Lora Leigh - Guilty Pleasure

This wasn’t the first time. With the first fiery blast of his seed inside, her pussy tightened around him further and her body shook in another orgasm that left her spinning out of control. Each heavy throb of his cock sent another pulsing wave of heated warmth inside her and another explosion of intensity.

She couldn’t survive this much pleasure, she thought. She couldn’t survive if she lost this pleasure, and that thought sent a wave of fear rushing through her.

Khalid’s pleasure affected her own. His need, his hunger, his very touch and the knowledge of his desires fueled her own fantasies.

That made her weak. It made her want to give; it made her hungry for more. And she was terrified that Khalid had nothing more to give than this. His body, his desires, his hunger, and more pleasure than she had ever imagined could exist.

What would she do if she ever lost that?

Holding on to him now as he lifted her from Shayne and eased her into his lap as he sat on the opposite seat, Marty tried to tell herself she would be okay when it was over. All things come to an end, she reminded herself. At least for her.

“Come here, precious.” His voice was a velvet croon as he lifted her chin and touched her lips with his. The kiss was gentle, easing. It sent an easy feeling of warmth through her soul and almost settled the painful thoughts filling her head.

“You make me breathless,” he whispered against her lips. “You steal my control when no other has ever managed to do so.”

Her lashes lifted to stare into his sexually sated expression. Nothing had ever been so damned sexy as Khalid sexually sated.

“What the hell am I going to do about you?” she whispered then, her hand lifting to stroke his rough jaw as a small smile tugged at his sexy lips.

“Take me often?” he suggested. “Keep me lazy and sated, and I will follow behind you like a puppy begging for a touch from your silken hand.”

She almost snorted at the words. Yeah , she could see Khalid trailing behind her like a little lapdog. Not.

“Now, are you hiding a shower in here?” She sighed, desperate to keep from sinking into the emotional trap awaiting her.

“No shower.” He kissed her lips quickly. “Trust me, though, sweetie, I know how to clean that sweet, pretty body of yours.”

She hoped he did, because she was slick, wet, and definitely in need of a shower. Even more, she was in need of a sense of balance. Some way to place a guard between her heart and this man who she could feel stealing it, touch by touch.

If she wasn’t very, very careful, she was going to end up with a broken heart and a very lonely life.

Anger Thornton’s guest list made up the who’s who of politics and power in D.C. and Alexandria. He didn’t stint on the wine, champagne, and buffet. It was the best of everything, and everything was perfect.

The band was subtle and excellent, the music wafting through the air with a gentle presence. The place was filled with the clink of glasses, the murmur of conversation, as well as an air of privilege and refined arrogance-rather like Anger himself.

At six-four, broadly muscular, with piercing blue eyes, and thick black hair, Anger was a man who most others knew to watch out for. He was rough-hewn; no one could call him handsome. He was more striking, and completely domineering, than “handsome” could ever describe.

The Thornton family had been one of the social elite in the area since the inception of the colonies. They had thrived, risen, cemented their hold and held on to it with steel-reinforced claws. Anger continued the tradition, as well as the tradition of making money in an import-export business that had been in operation nearly since the family had stepped foot in the colonies.

The three-story mansion Anger resided in boasted two large connecting ballrooms. That night, guests milled in both rooms, as well as in the large outer rooms and well-lit gardens. It was a ball that most of the female guests planned for a year in advance. The right dress, the right shoes, and, of course, the perfect escort if they weren’t married or that option were available.

For Thornton, it was the business event of the year. He’d managed to acquire many a government contract over the years because of the excellence of this one party.

Entering the main ballroom, Marty had to hold back a smile of mocking amusement as heads turned, the arrival was noted, and varied looks touched many of the faces. Marty wasn’t a regular to the parties that kept the social matrons buzzing through the years. Tonight, dressed in a gown that Khalid had managed to procure at the last moment, Marty knew that she was easily competing with even the most expensively dressed women there. Somehow he’d managed to acquire an original by one of the most exclusive dressmakers in the world.

Never underestimate a determined man , she thought. The royal blue silk-and-taffeta concoction bared the upper curves of her breasts, lifted and cupped the rounded globes before tightening beneath them and shaping her hips. From there it fell to the floor in a glorious array of material and stiffened petticoats. Sapphires glittered at her ears and throat, while her long dark blond hair had been upswept into a loose, graceful style that complimented her neck and shoulders.

Beside her, Khalid was dressed in a black silk evening suit with a tie that coordinated perfectly with her dress. Shayne was dressed similarly, though his tie was a slate gray rather than a royal blue.

They flanked her, one on each side, and Marty knew the tongues would wag that night and come morning.

“Marty Mathews, you’ve finally decided to grace one of my parties.” Anger stepped from a nearby group of aging men, his fit, dominant features at odds with the wrinkles and gray hair that surrounded him. “Khalid, Shayne, good to see the two of you again.”

Marty almost arched her brows at the familiarity Anger extended toward Shayne. Another member of the club , she assumed. She glanced at Shayne and almost snorted at the amused look he threw her way.

“Anger, an impressive crowd,” Khalid stated as they shook hands.

“As always.” Anger chuckled.

He sounded amused, but with Anger, one could never be certain. His blue-eyed gaze was cool, his expression placid, barely registering emotion.

“I hear congratulations are in order as well,” Khalid said. “A very lucrative contract with the State Department?”

A hint of a smile touched the corners of Anger’s lips. “Someone has to transport their dirty laundry, may as well be me.”

Khalid inclined his head in acknowledgment as Marty caught sight of her parents across the room. Joe and Virginia Mathews stood with a small group of friends and acquaintances. One of whom could be a contact to the Mustafa brothers.

She had no doubt that someone there was in contact with Ayid and Aman. They wouldn’t move with such confidence, such ease, unless they had help within their own government as well as in the States.

Her parents were there as well as her godfather, though. They would be covered. She just prayed she was right. The suspicion that Ayid and Aman would have friends in this crowd had arisen only after she had read the file on the Saudi operation. Someone had sent the brothers that message, and that person could have only been among a very small group of government individuals.

“If you’ll excuse me.” Marty smiled to the group. “I see my parents.”

“Of course.” Anger’s gaze flickered with curiosity for the briefest moment. “I spoke to your father and godfather earlier. They seem rather pleased with your association with Khalid. I wish you both the best.”

Marty nearly choked at the good wishes. Her fathers were obviously sick tonight. They were both furious at Khalid as well as at Shayne, for her resignation as well as her refusal to stay at her parent’s home while Khalid’s brothers were still on the loose.