Sheikh's Revenge by Jessica Brooke, Ella Brooke Page B

consuming every part of him, until he thought he couldn’t withstand it any longer. Then she took him so deeply into her mouth that he thought she’d swallow him whole. The flames inside grew so impossibly brilliant then, rendered him down to nothing as he came, shooting his seed deep into her throat.
    Zahir was beyond impressed when she swallowed it all coquettishly.
    Well, my minx has so many talents, doesn’t she?
    Addison took some time to wipe at her mouth and then to straighten herself up. As she did that, Zahir zipped himself but left his shirt off; she seemed to enjoy the view. He was glad he did. Once Addison was more settled, she leaned back against his left shoulder and stroked at his chest, playing with the lines of his pecs and scratching her fingernails against his abdomen.
    Such a sweet mix of pleasure and pain.
    And that reflected everything else, didn’t it? She could never know why he’d really hired her, why he was taking such an interest in her. Even though this was all about making Clayton pay for all of his crimes, including the way he’d verbally bullied her, that wasn’t enough. He knew that Addison would feel used and reject him. So, as he wrapped his arm tightly around her shoulder, he hugged her to him and smirked a bit as she began to quietly snore.
    No, it was better if the truth stay buried. It always was.
     

Chapter Six
     
     
    At first, she didn’t realize where she was when she woke up. Her apartment in Dubai was clean and functional but very cramped. The city was too luxurious and the rent too high for her to afford more than a loft, especially with the two thousand dollars she’d had to pay before she’d left the States. After paying for a replacement suit for her old boss, she’d had to scramble just for money to cover the first month, last month, and security deposit. This is why she knew immediately that the soft mattress underneath her and the luxurious and tantalizing satin sheets beneath her skin weren’t her own. All she could afford was efficient cotton.
    Then she opened her eyes and saw the huge archways overhead and the gorgeous tile work, the myriad of tessellations made from jade and turquoise and even more semiprecious stones from throughout the Middle East.
    “Where am I?”
    “You’re back in a guest room of my palace. It’s hardly any trouble. We have at least thirty,” Zahir said as he walked into the room. He carried a tray with a pitcher of coffee, a bottle of water, Advil, and several flat pitas of naan bread. “I thought you might need something for any possible hangovers.”
    She blinked blearily at him, even as she began to notice the throbbing in her temples. God, she had to stop following her id. There was a reason she’d shoved any rebellious streak in her deep down and into a cave back in middle school. When she just let herself out, Addison ended up going far too buck wild. But unlike the masquerade ball, she could remember last night in perfect clarity. Hell, she could still taste him—all of him—on her lips and tongue, and a large part of Addison would love nothing more than to pleasure her sheikh all over again. There had been so much power in seeing him writhe beneath her every motion and caress.
    She loved that.
    Still, she’d had more sake than she meant to, making her tipsy. She’d been craving him since that night on the rooftop garden at Club Rouge, and now she’d had him all over again.
    Zahir set the tray beside her bed even as she struggled for levity, for some sense of sanity in the things she’d done.
    “You have people for that. Hell, I’m sure you have legions upon legions of people to do that. Like if one person fails then there’s a line eight-people deep to help him out.”
    “I wanted to do it. Sometimes, I do like the hands-on touch,” he said, pushing her hair back from her face. It was a bit of a tangled mess, and she hated that he saw her with actual bedhead hair. “Besides, I wasn’t sure how you’d be