The Greek Billionaire's Counterfeit Bride (12 page)

She lost herself in the sensations coursing through her body, kissing and touching everywhere she could reach, tasting the sweat that began to form on Ari’s warm, olive skin and contrasting it with the sweeter taste of his lips and tongue when he brought his mouth up to kiss her again and again. He lifted her up from the bed slightly and unhooked her bra, casting it aside quickly before kissing her as if he wanted to devour her whole; Eva reached down between their bodies and brushed her fingers against the hard, hot bulge in the front of his briefs. “We—we had a talk about patience,” she said, panting for breath. Ari laughed, kissing the dead center of her chest lightly.

“Did you have breakfast this morning? You seem hungry,” Ari suggested, reaching down to hook his fingers in the waistband of her panties. He tugged them down over her hips, pulling back enough to pull the fabric along her legs, and Eva cooperated, lifting her hips up and squirming and wriggling to hasten the process. She felt as though she might actually, truly die if she didn’t get better contact between her body and Ari’s. But instead of taking his briefs off, Ari brought one hand up between her thighs and cupped her soaking wet folds, rubbing the heel of his palm against her slick labia.

“Hungry—hungry is one word for it,” Eva said absently, reaching down to continue touching Ari through the fabric of his underwear. Ari’s fingers slid up and down along her slippery labia, teasing her.

“Poor, impatient little wife,” Ari murmured. His fingers slid up to barely brush against her clitoris, and Eva shivered with need.

“I told—told you, that’s…it’s a terrible nickname,” Eva told him, twisting her hips to get better contact with his fingers. “I’m going to…have to…school you.”

“I am a quick learner—I think you told me that,” Ari said. His lips connected with hers once more, leaving Eva unable to reply. His fingers worked her steadily, teasingly swirling around her clitoris one moment, and then sliding along her inner labia the next, increasing the tension deep down between her hips moment by moment. Eva moaned out, twisting and writhing underneath him, pawing at the waistband of his briefs to get at the thick, hot, hard erection she already knew so well.

Ari slid two fingers inside of her, wriggling them, rubbing along her inner walls even as his thumb pressed against her pleasure center, and Eva gave herself up to the pleasure of his teasing caresses, barely focusing enough to continue stroking Ari as she trembled and arched and squirmed underneath him. Over and over again, Ari brought her to the edge of orgasm and then retreated, slowing down until Eva’s shivering began to subside, kissing her on the lips until she thought she might drown. She was so close to climax that she could have sworn she could taste it, but Ari—expertly—kept the best pleasure at bay, leaving her reeling and almost whimpering with need.

By the time Ari lifted himself off of her, falling onto the bed at her side and tugging his underwear down to let his erection free, Eva thought she might die if she didn’t achieve orgasm soon. “You know, I think it’s not that I’m impatient,” she said, watching him slither out of the last piece of clothing on his body. “I think it’s that you’re a damn tease.” Ari chuckled, tossing his briefs away without even a shred of concern for where they landed in the room. He reached over for her, pulling Eva over, lifting her off of the bed.

“If you’re so worried about it, why don’t you call the shots for a while?” Eva frowned in momentary confusion, but as Ari began to maneuver her, hauling her on top of him, she realized what he meant. She straddled his hips, balancing her weight on her knees and her hands, and looked down at Ari with a grin.

She rocked her hips against his, rubbing her slick folds against the heat and hardness of his cock, and Ari’s hands wandered over her body slowly. He gave her breasts a lingering, eager squeeze and played his thumbs against her nipples, teasing them until they hardened into tight, little nubs. Eva teased Ari for as long as she could stand, building up speed as she slid along the length of his erection, pressing her clit against the tip of him. Ari moaned, pulling her face down to kiss her hungrily, and Eva struggled to keep herself in control; she wanted revenge for his teasing.

When Eva couldn’t stand it anymore, she shifted on top of Ari’s body and guided the tip of his erection against her folds. She sank down onto him, taking him inch by inch, letting him fill her up as slowly as she could make herself go. Eva and Ari both moaned out, clutching at each other, touching and kissing each other as they found their rhythm in an instant. Eva rode Ari, slowly at first, raiding and dropping her hips to take him deeper and deeper inside of her. She marveled at how deliciously full she felt, how hot and perfect Ari felt buried in her, rubbing along her inner walls. Gradually, Eva began to move faster, leaning in to kiss everywhere her lips could reach on Ari’s body, letting her hands wander over him as she shifted her balance from one to the other arm, twisting her hips.

If Eva had marveled at how perfect their first times together had been, the sensations were only better with the knowledge that Ari really loved her, and that he wanted her for more than just sex and a cover story. They murmured praise, instructions, pleas to each other as they moved together, and Eva struggled to hold back the orgasm she could feel building up deep down between her hips, tension mounting every moment.

All at once, the tension broke, as if someone had cut through the knot she could feel buried deep down between her hips. Eva rose and fell, riding Ari harder and faster as wave after wave of pleasure racked her, so intense it might have been pain; Ari held onto her hips with a viselike grip, thrusting up to meet her movements. Eva lost herself in the pleasure of her climax, moaning out over and over again as spasms of sensation jolted through her; she barely felt the telltale twitching of Ari’s erection buried deep inside of her, and the tension in his body as he came closer and closer to his own orgasm. When she heard Ari moan out, long and low, however, Eva’s climax intensified, and she rode him as hard and fast as she could, even as she felt the hot, slick gush of his fluids flooding into her.

Eva fell to the bed at Ari’s side, panting and gasping for breath, trapped in the warm, soothing aftermath of her climax. “What am I going to do with myself?”

“Hmm?” Eva rolled her eyes.

“I mean—you have work, and this apartment won’t need that much in the way of cleaning. I’ve never really been the housewife type.”

“You don’t have to be,” Ari told her. “Has it escaped your notice, Eva, that I’m incredibly wealthy?” Eva snorted.

“No, that did not escape my notice,” she told him.

“I will do whatever I need to do to make and keep you happy,” Ari told her, already beginning to caress her once more. Eva could feel her desire heating up once more, and knew that it would be only a matter of minutes before they tested the new bed even more aggressively. She wasn’t sure what the future would hold, but Eva knew that whatever happened between the two of them, she wanted to be with him, and he wanted to be with her. They would be able to hold together through just about anything, considering what they had already been through. And Eva knew—even more certainly—that she was never going to be involved in another con job or scheme for the rest of her life.

The End

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Thank you so much for reading. Here are the first few chapters from my previous release,
Owned By The Sheikh

Chapter One

Penny paused at the street corner, glancing one way and then the other as she waited for the light to change. She took a deep breath, trying to settle her rising nerves; it had been tricky to get the time off for the interview, but she had eventually convinced the office manager, a portly middle-aged man named Theodore, that she was sick enough to go home for the rest of the day.

She shook her head, stepping out onto the crosswalk quickly. She reached up with one unsteady hand and smoothed her hair against her scalp, glancing down at her watch to make sure of the time.
Good. Fifteen minutes early.
She caught sight of her reflection in the windows of one of the buildings; she looked—she hoped—completely professional, and utterly in keeping with the position she’d applied for.

After a year of working for Granger-Forrest Realty, it had become clear to Penny that she was never going to be more than a secretary there; she’d asked about opportunities to train to become a realtor, or to go into Contracts, but every answer she had gotten had been a “soft no,” as they called it. The realtors in the company didn’t want any competition—not when the commissions they were making were so good—and the legal team was full. Theodore probably would have taken a fifty percent pay cut to remain the office manager if he needed to, Penny thought to herself grimly. There was nowhere in the company for her to move up; that much was clear.

She paused in front of a mirror-tinted window, looking at herself one last time. Not a hair was out of place, and her outfit—the most expensive one she owned—was impeccable. It was also a different ensemble to the one she had worn to the office that morning; Penny hadn’t wanted to risk rumpling or staining her best interview clothes, nor had she wanted to set off any alarm bells that she might have reasons other than illness for leaving the office early.

Penny pressed her lips together, her heart beating a little faster at the prospect of anyone in the company finding out that she had gone on an interview. If she didn’t get the job, and someone found out she’d been looking for a new position elsewhere, Penny knew she’d be fired before she could even attempt to explain herself.

Maybe if those penny-pinchers would pay me a little more, I’d be okay with working as a secretary until the day Theodore finally decides to retire,
she thought, feeling more than a little resentment at the company that had hired her. She shook her head, continuing down the sidewalk towards the office she sought.

When she’d seen that Zeban Industries had an opening for a secretary to serve the Board of Directors, Penny had jumped on the job posting with abandon. It had been just before her breakup with Martin.
And to think, he’d actually told you that you had no hope of even making it to the shortlist,
Penny told herself, bleakly remembering her ex.

When she’d first moved to Chicago, more than a little out of her element after leaving her tiny hometown in Oklahoma, Martin’s quirks had seemed like exactly the kind of protective nature she wanted in a man. But a few months in, he had become completely obsessed with the idea that any time she had to stay at the office late, she was having sex—with Theodore of all people, or with one of the realtors. Whenever she came home, he wanted to inspect her phone, read through her text messages. After yet another fight about him invading her privacy, Penny had told Martin that she didn’t want to see him again.

It was as if that decision had been a catalyst to better things; the very next day, Penny had gotten an email from the Human Resources department at Zeban Industries, informing her that she had made it through the initial stages of the recruitment process, and asking her to call to schedule her interview with members of the senior management team. With Martin out of her life and more free time than she had had in months, Penny had dived into researching the company and its board members as thoroughly as she possibly could.

As she approached the impressive façade of the Zeban Industries building, Penny took another quick breath and checked the time; she would be able to duck into a bathroom, touch up her makeup, and then report to the receptionist on the executive floor with about ten minutes to spare before her scheduled interview.

She hurried up the stairs to the revolving doors, pausing for a heartbeat before plunging into the first open spot and continuing forward. She emerged in an enormous, almost empty lobby, with soft music playing over hidden speakers. Her heels clattered slightly on the marble floor, and Penny was briefly glad she’d thought to reinforce the soles with strips of grip tape to keep from slipping.

Penny looked at her surroundings in awe; the walls were covered in expensive wood paneling, with shining chrome fixtures for lights; potted plants in huge urns gave the air a fresh, lightly scented feeling. It was definitely the headquarters for a wealthy and powerful international company.
And if I was Sheikh Mahmood Al-Zeban, I’d probably spring for the best, too,
Penny thought, smiling slightly to herself. Between his connection with the royal family of Al-Zaddain and the wealth he had personally accumulated, it was clear that the CEO of Zeban Industries had spared no cost in building his corporate flagship.

A buzz in her purse interrupted the flow of Penny’s thoughts and she slipped her hand into the side pocket, irritated at the timing. As she strode towards the bathrooms, she pulled the device out and unlocked the screen. The notification showed a text message from Martin, and Penny scowled down at the screen, wishing that the man would recognize that no amount of pleading would convince her—she had meant it when she had told him she was finished with him.

Maybe the silent treatment will convince him I mean business,
Penny thought, shoving the phone back into her purse and stepping through the door into the women’s room.

Penny gave herself three minutes to make the final touches to her appearance; she turned her head from left to right making sure her hair—a rich, deep auburn, accentuated by her cream-pale skin and a light dusting of freckles across her nose and cheeks—was completely in place, the smart bun she’d twisted it into completely smooth. She added the lightest dab of color to her lips to reinforce the tint she’d applied before at her apartment, and blinked a few times to make sure that her mascara and eyeliner wouldn’t budge. She’d considered her outfit and styling carefully the night before; setting out everything that she would need so that she could get home from the office, get changed, and be out the door in a matter of minutes.

Penny knew that she wasn’t precisely plain; though she wasn’t quite tall enough to ever consider modeling, she had learned in her teen years how to emphasize her best qualities—both when she wanted to attract a man and when she wanted to look professional. For her interview at Zeban Industries, she had decided to style herself—as much as humanly possible—as the consummate professional, her theory being that if she appeared looking as though she was already an employee of the company, she might win a few points with the board, even if only subliminally. She had researched each of the board members’ profiles extensively, and concluded that the women appreciated a certain level of style, while the men were hard-nosed conservatives.

Penny stepped out of the bathroom and quickly moved across the lobby to the reception desk, smoothing her hair instinctively, even though she knew it looked perfect.

A diminutive brunette looked up from her computer screen and gave a slightly interested smile. “Can I help you?”

“Yes,” Penny said, keeping her tone light but direct. “I’m Penny Pritchard; I’m scheduled for an interview with the Board of Directors in about…” she checked her watch. “Eight minutes.”

“Let me just verify that with HR,” the woman at the desk said, looking at her screen once more. “Do you have some form of ID?”

Penny reached into the front pocket of her bag and retrieved her license, feeling relieved that she had remembered to bring it.
They can’t just let anyone upstairs to the sharks, after all.

The brunette typed something into the computer and looked at Penny’s ID. She then handed it back and Penny waited patiently as she continued to type. Finally, she looked up. “You can go up to the thirty-third floor,” the woman said, the polite smile returning to her face. “Someone will meet you there.”

Penny nodded her acceptance as the woman reached into one of the drawers of her desk, producing a slim plastic card. “This will give you access to the top floor in the elevator,” she said.

Penny took the card, thanking the receptionist, and hurried across the lobby to the elevator bank, trying her best not to look rushed. She had arrived early enough, hadn’t she?

She pressed the elevator button and suppressed the urge to fidget, reminding herself that she needed to make a good impression on as many people as possible in the building; certainly she shouldn’t do anything that might create a bad impression. Sometime near the end of college, one of Penny’s classmates had told her a story of arriving late to an interview and getting snippy with the receptionist, only to later discover that the woman at the desk was the niece of the company’s president. Penny did not intend to take the risk of finding out that someone she’d been less than professional in front of might blab to the people who controlled her fate.

The elevator chimed and Penny stepped onto the car as soon as the doors had opened enough to allow her. She pressed the top floor button and the doors closed in a silky murmur behind her.

“Please insert access card for this floor,” a neutral, feminine-sounding voice said. Penny fumbled slightly with the card but managed to find the slot to insert it. “Thank you.”

Penny suppressed the urge to tell the elevator “You’re welcome” and swallowed against the tight, dry feeling in her throat as the car began to rise up through the floors. She reviewed the questions she had practiced in her mind, looking around the little space; it was as ornate as everything in the building seemed to be, with wooden panels on the floor and burnished brass walls.
Every little detail in this place seems to be designed to remind you that the man who owns it could buy one or two small island countries if he wanted,
Penny thought to herself. She checked her makeup one last time as she felt the elevator beginning to slow; she was so high up her ears had popped from the pressure change.

As she emerged from the elevator, Penny spotted a tall, dark-haired man standing to one side. He was flawlessly dressed in a tailored suit, his hair was perfectly styled, and he was wearing a tasteful pair of designer glasses.

“Ms. Pritchard?”

She nodded. “Yes, that’s me,” Penny said, summoning her own polite smile.

“If you could wait about fifteen minutes, the board is finishing up its meeting—and there are some additional administrative things we need to do before the interview can begin.”

Penny’s stomach sank, but she simply nodded, accepting the need to wait. The man gestured to one of the chairs in the lobby area and Penny sat down carefully, crossing her legs at the ankle and pressing her knees together.

She glanced around the lobby as she waited, taking in the fact that it was even more opulent than the ground floor had been: the thick rug beneath her feet was swirled with unusual abstract designs; the chair she’d taken was plush, unobtrusively comfortable; she was fairly certain the upholstery was genuine velvet. The entire lobby was spotlessly clean, scented with something warm and fragrant that Penny couldn’t quite identify. She struggled against the impulse to fidget, taking slow, deep breaths to control her nerves.

She wasn’t sure if fifteen minutes had passed, but the man who’d greeted her at the elevator appeared once more.

“Ms. Pritchard?”

Penny looked up from her perusal of the rug and smiled.

“If you’ll follow me, there are some brief tests we’d like you to sit before the board members convene for your interview.”

Penny had known to expect something like that, so she nodded and followed the man through a door at the side of the lobby. He led her down a short hallway and into a tiny room—closer to a cubicle than a proper office, with a divided desk and a slim laptop off to one side.

“These are aptitude and skills tests; take your time, but they shouldn’t take more than twenty minutes total,” the man told her, gesturing for Penny to take a seat.

She sighed, thinking that at least it would be difficult for her to get more nervous with her mind occupied by the tests. Penny started the first program, and buried any worries about the interview ahead in the back of her mind, focusing on the problems that flashed on the screen. She made light work of the questions she was being asked: protocol questions about who she would notify in order in case of a particular kind of emergency, or what process she would pick for a given scenario. There were also quizzes on the various software types she’d included in her resume—including some more tricky questions that Penny took a little more time to answer.