dress. “It wouldn’t matter,” Sheikh Bashir was saying. “She’s one of a kind, and she’s mine.”
I’m his . Stella’s insides fluttered at his words, even if she wasn’t sure he meant them. She hadn’t felt that rush in ages.
“But we were talking about pipelines.”
Creighton rolled his eyes.
“You know, I get tired of pipelines. All day, every day, it’s pipelines. And really, it’s impossible to concentrate with her in the room, Bashir. Tell me where you got her. Or at least let me borrow her.”
Stella stiffened. Was that part of the arrangement? Would Sheikh Bashir do it? She’d thought he’d only been messing with her in the Black Room when he suggested something like that, but he obviously wanted something from this cretin. But he wouldn’t just pass her around like a party favor, would he? Not after he’d just laid claim to her?
That was one of those things that, in theory, made Stella incredibly hot, but in practice, right now, with Cecil Creighton? No. And, in truth, she wanted Sheikh Bashir to want her for himself.
Wait, when did that happen?
“Exquisite, no?” Sheikh Bashir said, and slipped his hand under her dress, between her legs. Stella reddened; he would feel how wet she was. How she was probably already seeping through the thin dress. And, oh God, Cecil Creighton was watching all of it.
Sheikh Bashir’s seductive smile demanded all of her attention. “So responsive,” he said.
He forced her thighs apart and ran his fingers up and down her slit, testing her. Through half-lidded eyes she could see that he smoldered. Would he take her right there? No, he couldn’t. That was insane. But she realized she still wanted him to, even with Cecil Creighton looking on. The admission sent an immediate bolt of electricity from her brain to her pussy and back again, clearing her mind as she began to grind her hips into his hand. She put her arms around his neck and sighed.
“Christ, Bashir,” she heard Creighton say. It both demeaned and thrilled her.
What has he done to me? Why do I like this? The thought floated up unbidden and darted away just as quickly, a tiny insignificance in the immense ocean of sensation that flooded through her. Sheikh Bashir thrust a finger into her, and she clenched around it gladly, happy to have another feeling to wrap herself around. Her mind was almost completely empty, making room for more and more feeling. She hadn’t even realized how much anxiety and sadness she’d become accustomed to carrying around with her, and now Sheikh Bashir was able to banish it with just a finger. Somehow, the fact that she was being watched, that she had an audience, only intensified everything.
Until Sheikh Bashir abruptly stopped. With a soft chuckle, he withdrew his hand entirely.
Not again , she silently railed. When is he going to let me come?
“Get up and serve us another round, pet,” he said. “Mr. Creighton is running low again.”
Creighton rattled the ice in his otherwise empty glass for emphasis, and the hollow crack of ice cubes dragged Stella back down to earth. She pretended to smooth her dress in an effort to steady herself. Every encounter with Sheikh Bashir seemed to go deeper than the one before, seemed to cast her further away from herself and closer to…what?
Pretty soon I won’t be able to think at all . Stella was surprised to find that she looked forward to that moment.
“‘Nother scotch. Macallan is fine. You’d think they’d have better scotch at these things,” Creighton said. He didn’t even remark on what had just happened, as though rich and powerful men toyed with women like that all the time. As far as Stella knew, maybe they did.
Sheikh Bashir slipped a hand under her dress as she rose, and gave her ass a sharp pinch.
“Quickly.”
Her spine straightened, and her cheeks felt hot as Creighton laughed after her. It gave her the weirdest sense of déjà vu , and she was almost to the bar before she realized why:
I’m his . Stella’s insides fluttered at his words, even if she wasn’t sure he meant them. She hadn’t felt that rush in ages.
“But we were talking about pipelines.”
Creighton rolled his eyes.
“You know, I get tired of pipelines. All day, every day, it’s pipelines. And really, it’s impossible to concentrate with her in the room, Bashir. Tell me where you got her. Or at least let me borrow her.”
Stella stiffened. Was that part of the arrangement? Would Sheikh Bashir do it? She’d thought he’d only been messing with her in the Black Room when he suggested something like that, but he obviously wanted something from this cretin. But he wouldn’t just pass her around like a party favor, would he? Not after he’d just laid claim to her?
That was one of those things that, in theory, made Stella incredibly hot, but in practice, right now, with Cecil Creighton? No. And, in truth, she wanted Sheikh Bashir to want her for himself.
Wait, when did that happen?
“Exquisite, no?” Sheikh Bashir said, and slipped his hand under her dress, between her legs. Stella reddened; he would feel how wet she was. How she was probably already seeping through the thin dress. And, oh God, Cecil Creighton was watching all of it.
Sheikh Bashir’s seductive smile demanded all of her attention. “So responsive,” he said.
He forced her thighs apart and ran his fingers up and down her slit, testing her. Through half-lidded eyes she could see that he smoldered. Would he take her right there? No, he couldn’t. That was insane. But she realized she still wanted him to, even with Cecil Creighton looking on. The admission sent an immediate bolt of electricity from her brain to her pussy and back again, clearing her mind as she began to grind her hips into his hand. She put her arms around his neck and sighed.
“Christ, Bashir,” she heard Creighton say. It both demeaned and thrilled her.
What has he done to me? Why do I like this? The thought floated up unbidden and darted away just as quickly, a tiny insignificance in the immense ocean of sensation that flooded through her. Sheikh Bashir thrust a finger into her, and she clenched around it gladly, happy to have another feeling to wrap herself around. Her mind was almost completely empty, making room for more and more feeling. She hadn’t even realized how much anxiety and sadness she’d become accustomed to carrying around with her, and now Sheikh Bashir was able to banish it with just a finger. Somehow, the fact that she was being watched, that she had an audience, only intensified everything.
Until Sheikh Bashir abruptly stopped. With a soft chuckle, he withdrew his hand entirely.
Not again , she silently railed. When is he going to let me come?
“Get up and serve us another round, pet,” he said. “Mr. Creighton is running low again.”
Creighton rattled the ice in his otherwise empty glass for emphasis, and the hollow crack of ice cubes dragged Stella back down to earth. She pretended to smooth her dress in an effort to steady herself. Every encounter with Sheikh Bashir seemed to go deeper than the one before, seemed to cast her further away from herself and closer to…what?
Pretty soon I won’t be able to think at all . Stella was surprised to find that she looked forward to that moment.
“‘Nother scotch. Macallan is fine. You’d think they’d have better scotch at these things,” Creighton said. He didn’t even remark on what had just happened, as though rich and powerful men toyed with women like that all the time. As far as Stella knew, maybe they did.
Sheikh Bashir slipped a hand under her dress as she rose, and gave her ass a sharp pinch.
“Quickly.”
Her spine straightened, and her cheeks felt hot as Creighton laughed after her. It gave her the weirdest sense of déjà vu , and she was almost to the bar before she realized why:
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