Total pages in book: 39
Estimated words: 37523 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 188(@200wpm)___ 150(@250wpm)___ 125(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 37523 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 188(@200wpm)___ 150(@250wpm)___ 125(@300wpm)
And I didn't want that to happen.
Right?
It almost felt like I was lying to myself, and when I forced myself to start struggling, it almost felt like I was cutting my nose to spite my face. "Let me go, you fuck!"
But the SOB only chuckled, and as annoying as the sound was, there was also a purring sensuality to it that had another frisson of helpless desire tickle down my spine.
"I don't know what's gotten into you to make you change like this," he murmured, "but it does make things more interesting."
Motherfucking cocky piece of sheikh.
I opened my mouth to tell him just that, but...yeah. I ended up doing something in his favor again, and the moment my lips parted, his mouth crushed mine in an instant—-
Nooooooooooo.
I didn't want my first kiss to be with him.
But it was too late, and with one stroke of his tongue...I was lost.
Stroke...stroke...stroke.
I had always thought that this kind of kiss was rather gross. The tongue was just so wet and fleshy, I couldn't understand why anyone would want someone else's tongue inside their mouth.
But now I knew.
You'd want it if the other person knew what he was doing.
And this piece of sheikh?
He was still a motherfucking cocky SOB, but oh man, did he know...did this guy know how to use his tongue. Every stroke was tantalizingly unpredictable - one moment lazy, another moment possessive; one moment playful, another moment tender. But whichever the case, every stroke was an intoxicating pleasure, and when he started sucking on my tongue—-
Oh, fuck, but this was even better, just so much better—-
Suck, suck, suck.
I never knew having a man suck on my tongue could feel this good.
Suck, suck, suck.
I hated how good it felt. Wished I could make myself resist. But instead, all I could do was think, Don't end, please don't end, please—-
But it did.
One second, he was making love to my mouth, another second I was all alone, with only air to kiss me back. I watched in dazed silence as he stepped away, cool as fucking ice, and cocky as only mother-effing SOB sheikhs could be...
A smirk curved over his lips. "What was that you were saying about changing your mind?"
My cheeks burned, and I forgot all about being calm and sensible and all of the other things that Smarter Side of My Brain told me to be.
"Fuck you."
"With pleasure, habibti."
YEARGH.
"Fuck—-" I almost said 'you' again but managed to catch myself in time. "Fuck this shit."
I stalked out of his office, and with every step I could feel him watching me, and oh man, idiot that I was, all I could think of at that time was...
What would I do if he stopped me from leaving?
Dear Ms. Teller,
We kindly request that you present yourself at the address listed below on the stated time and date.
Please note that this letter shall also stand as your FINAL NOTICE AND WARNING.
If you fail to make yourself available as requested, this shall constitute as a direct violation of Sec. IV Rule 5 of Contract RE-058-ST, which you have voluntarily signed and received an advance payment in the sum of two hundred thousand euros (€200,000).
No further warning will be given following this, and our law firm has been authorized to pursue the necessary legal action if you continue to disregard your employer's request.
Sincerely,
Al-Dimashqi & Ghazali LLC
Chapter Two
Come on, Dahlia. Pick up the damn phone. But just as it had been for the past six days, all I heard was her mobile ringing, and so it went on until an automated response kicked in. "Sorry. The person you're calling is busy at the moment..."
Busy, my ass.
Or maybe Dahlia was busy, since my twin did have six digits to burn, and she didn't even have to worry her pretty little head about repaying it. Nope, no worries at all, since I was the one who'd get my ass sued, if I kept trying to fool myself, thinking I'd get away with ignoring the requests of my "employer".
And the latest request that the SOB threatened to take me to court for?
My steps came to a halt as I gazed moodily at the newly-opened restopub across the street.
Y + K, its minimalist-style signage read. A Yelp review described the place as 'swanky casual' and its menu a delicious but rare fusion of Japanese and Greek. On any other day, I'd have been happy to give this a try. Tonight, however...
Wear a dress. Don't be late.
Those were the asshole's exact words, included in fine print in the law firm's last courier-delivered letter, and the memory of it completely soured what should've been a fabulous dining experience. Y+K might as well have been the doorway to Hell, considering who was waiting for me behind its doors.
The urge to turn around struck anew even as I forced myself to cross the street as soon as the pedestrian light turned green. No point running away, I reminded myself while climbing the stairs that led up to the second-floor dining area. The SOB was just going to give me more shit if I did, so I might as well be done with it.