I smiled, knowing Senator Paul McGrath was an adamant supporter of both the president’s stance and the justice department’s lawsuit. Paul was a machine pumped with aggression and unafraid to bark and bite anyone who stood in his way. He and Alistair shared this trait. Alistair provided support to the political forces that stood against the merger.
It was nearly midnight when we walked into the hotel club. I’d spent the week in my usual tailored business suits and below-the-knee dresses, which Alistair had recommended for the UAE.I adjusted my silk YSL dress, the hem settling somewhere between my knees and ankles.
Inside the club was another universe—music pounding, the place packed with business executives and women who looked like they’d just stepped off a Paris runway. Gold jewelry flashed. Stilettos. Dresses that were little more than strips of fabric. I must’ve looked openly stunned with my mouth wide open and fluttering, wide eyes.
Omar leaned in, voice low. “It’s different here. Five-star hotels and private clubs are like international zones. What happens inside gets overlooked. Just don’t bring it out onto the street.”
Alistair’s mouth quirked. “Dubai loves its rules. But if you’re the right kind of guest, you get a different set.”
“You mean a guest with power and money,” I murmured, snapping my jaw shut.
A man in a dark Armani suit and gold rings strolled toward us, flanked by two women dressed like Bond girls. He glanced at me, then turned to Alistair and Omar.
“La-a,” Omar furtively dismissed, cutting the air with his flat palm.
Alistair instinctively placed his strong arm around me, glaring at the man in Armani.
“What did he ask?” I questioned.
“He asked if you were for sale,” he growled.
“Oh.” I burst out in laughter, stroking my man’s tense left shoulder. “It’s getting late. Shall we say goodnight to Omar and his colleagues?”
“I’ve organized a private show,” Alistair said. “They’re quite exotic. I think you’ll like them.”
“Hmm, I’m intrigued,” I hummed, glancing at four exquisite European escorts flirting with Omar and Khalid.
“The women will be joining us,” Alistair murmured hotly into my ear. I felt his lips tickle my earlobe, arousing my nipples, which hardened to the hot thoughts dancing in my head.
Moments later, we were in a private lounge watching an ornately embellished belly dancer, who entertained us with her figure-revealing costume and the hypnotic moves of her art.
“Look how she’s handling the swords,” I commented, clapping at her courage and coordination as the sharp blades whirled in the air. She juggled the weapons with finesse while she danced with fervor.
Alistair lounged back on the sofa, flanked by two love nymphs who pressed in close, their mouths scattering kisses across his skin, slick bodies sliding against his. At his request, they were naked and glistening with oil, perfect for his hands to roam. Tonight he wore the player’s mask, devilishly handsome and untouchable, letting them peel open his collar and rub their palms over the hard plane of his chest. He raised his glass and took a slow swallow of his favorite poison—whiskey, smooth and burning.
Khalid sat in a dark corner, lost in the passionate embrace of the other two women who planted kisses in more places on his body than a world map. The other men, except Omar, had left the club and gone home to their wives.
Omar was the youngest in his group, the only one unmarried. A dream of dominance, he leaned close as we shared ashisha, smoke curling between us in slow, easy rhythm. My gaze kept finding his, those dark, magnetic eyes holding me longer each time. Heat radiated off him, raw and forceful yet strangely tender at the core. His scent—musky, spiced, intoxicating—wrapped around me, pulling me deeper into the mystery of his dangerous charm.
The arousing feel of his thigh next to mine sent sparks and chills up my spine as my vaginal walls clenched, eliciting a familiar slickness between my legs. “I want you to touch me,” I whispered into Omar’s ear and placed my hand on his.
“Are you sure?” he asked, looking at Alistair. “What does he think? Your company is our best supplier, and Alistair is a man to be feared.”
“Feared?” I asked, running my fingers down Omar’s hard abs.
“He’s influential, well-connected, and quick to anger. A man like that is dangerous.”
I glanced at Alistair. His nod was subtle but sure when he noticed my fingers circling Omar’s wrist. One of the women had already unzipped his pants, her hand working his cock with slow strokes. The other pressed a bare breast to his mouth, and he drew her nipple between his lips while his fingers slid expertly over her slick folds. On the coffee table, a neat stack of condoms waited, like part of the performance.
“I think you’re safe. There won’t be any burning of bridges tonight,” I promised, admiring Omar’s sharp facial features. I kissed his cheek, then his pouty lips while guiding his long, nimble fingers to explore between my thighs.
Omar kissed me back with hungry urgency, his mouth devouring mine like a man tasting water after days in the desert. My hands roamed over the lines of his body, greedy for more, until I found the hard bulge straining against his pants.
“My sweet flower,” he breathed. “I wanted you from the moment I saw you.”
“I want you too,” I panted, breath breaking against his as his mouth claimed mine in hungry, unrelenting kisses. Our bodies tangled closer, hands roaming, exploring, desperate to knowmore. In the background, the music throbbed while the dancer spun, her movements a slow, tantalizing blur.
“We’d better stop.” Omar’s tone hardened as he lifted me off his lap and set me back on the sofa. His face tightened, eyes darting toward Alistair.
