101 Nights Box Set: Volume Two Read online

  I climb off him and all but collapse next to him on the bed. Remaining on his back, he wraps an arm around me and pulls me into his body. I cuddle next to him on my side, marveling at the muscular expanse of his frame. I touch his chest tentatively. When he doesn’t chastise me, I rest my hand on his upper abdomen, astounded by the solid heat.

  His erection draws my attention. I’m not sure what to do about it or even if I’m supposed to do anything. Sex wasn’t part of our agreement for this round.

  With some hesitation, I run my hand down his abs to the dick straining to be free of his towel and touch him through the thick material.

  “Touch me,” George urges. “Want me to show you how I wank off?”

  My face feels warm, but I nod.

  He unfastens the towel and pushes it aside, displaying the large, thick cock waiting beneath. I stare at it, unable to help the ache from building in my pussy once again. I can only imagine what he’ll feel like inside me

  Stretching, George pulls a small bottle of lube from the nightstand and dribbles some of the strawberry scented liquid over the bulging head of his dick. As I watch, he takes his cock in his large hand, squeezes, and begins stroking it.

  I don’t expect it to be a turn on, but it really is. The size of him, how hard he is, the idea of the bulging head tickling my g-spot …

  It’s like I didn’t just come harder than I ever have in my life.

  “Can I?” I ask.

  “You don’t have to ask, Alisha. I’m yours to do what you want with. In bed,” he whispers huskily.

  “I want to.” I push his arm aside.

  He releases his cock, and I wrap my fingers around it, amazed by how hard he is. I start to move my hand up and down.

  “Like this.” George takes my hand the way he did before and squeezes tightly then strokes the shaft. “Shaft hard, head harder.”

  His hand falls away. I prop myself up on my elbow, fascinated by the incredible body of the man beside me and even more intrigued by his dick. My lower belly is burning with need once more, but I focus on him the way he did me.

  I stroke him hard and feel the pulse that’s like a heartbeat inside his dick, making him larger, fuller, harder. His soft skin is even softer at the head, and I follow what I saw him doing to make short, quick, tight movements around the head before returning to his shaft.

  “Very good,” he murmurs.

  His eyes are closed, his features relaxed as I give him a hand job. I’ve never done it before and so watch him and his body to know when I hit a rhythm or region that elicits a reaction. I alternate pressure with my hand and lengths of the stroke, focused on his shaft, and notice how doing so makes the head grow larger and start to turn dark red. I shift my hand to the head and squeeze with a few fast movements.

  George groans.

  I get excited, thrilled by the idea of making the most reserved, guarded man I’ve ever met melt with my hands and come. The closer he gets, the more confident I become, reading his body signs and understanding that I’m not the only one who starts to lose control before I climax.

  George’s breathing grows faster, his body tensing, while the head of his dick turns almost purple and is too large for me to close my hand around. I focus on it, rubbing fast and tight, watching in glee as he clutches at the bedspread, and his head falls back.

  When he comes, I almost join him in shouting. Hot semen spouts out of his dick and covers my hand. His powerful, muscular body seizes as his orgasm takes him, and I sit up, staring in awe. I continue stroking him, and he stills my wrist.

  “Gently,” he murmurs, face completely relaxed for the first time since I’ve known him.

  I ease up and stroke him. He jerks each time I brush the head of his cock with my hand. Grinning, I keep doing it, loving that I’m in control of him.

  Climaxing from his ministrations is one thing. Watching him come is another. It’s just as intimate, just as incredible, to know I took a man like George and turned him into a boiled noodle.

  I like this. A lot.

  “Good,” he says, eyes opening. “You’re smiling.” He offers a small one as well.

  “I totally owned you,” I reply, satisfied with myself.

  He snorts. “Wipe your hand off and lie down with me.”

  I do and stretch out beside him. He rolls onto his side and wraps his arms around me again, pulling me against him. I breathe in his scent, proud, and close my eyes. I don’t want to take a nap. I want to work, but I’m so drowsy after all this that I start to think a short, half hour nap won’t hurt anything.

  “How about Hackman?” he asks.

  “What?”

  “As my comic book name.”

  My eyes open, and I stare at the golden skin of his thick chest. One of his thighs is draped across mine, and our hips are pressed together. I scratch his back lightly with one hand, irritated that we think so much alike sometimes.

  Because we’re a good team.

  Except he’s probably going to break my heart.

  “It’s terrible,” I say softly. “I already found you one.”

  “What is it?”

  “The Gladiator.”

  “Nice. Why?”

  “You’re lethal, smart, and capable of fighting and defeating anyone you have to in order to get what you,” I explain then add quietly, “And … because you hurt anyone who gets near you.”

  “That’s truer than you know,” he whispers.

  I don’t like that answer at all. I don’t want to think about what he means, and I don’t want to consider what happens when we leave his bed. His strong, warm body and low voice ground me, take the edge off the world I’m afraid of facing. I can think clearly in his arms.

  I don’t want to think about losing that at this moment.

  Chapter Seven: George

  Alisha falls asleep in my arms, and I let her sleep for the rest of the afternoon. Exhaustion and emotion both caused the second meltdown since I’ve been around her. While I like how we defused it, I’m also feeling the need to put more distance between us.

  This is getting too comfortable, too fast. We haven’t even had sex, and I’m already more interested in her than is natural.

  You hurt anyone who gets near you. Her words shouldn’t be playing over and over in my head. I know what I am, and she’s starting to understand that. It should be a relief.

  It’s not. If anything, it seems to make this harder.

  I dress, eat and pace around the penthouse for an hour before I return to the office and sit in front of the monitors. She’s right about Maya’s phone; it takes me all of sixty seconds to confirm what she’s said. The phone is new, which means we can’t get anything off of it. Maya was smart enough to know to get a new one rather than try to wipe an old one.

  Because she knew I’d be looking. Leaning forward, I wipe both hands down my face and pause, the scent of Alisha’s sweet cunt on my fingers. It makes my body warm from the inside, like the memory of drinking from her pussy earlier. It’s even better, sweeter, after a woman comes.

  I lower my hands and refocus on the cell, aware we’re running out of time.

  It’s one thing to know Maya gave us a bogus phone. It’s another thing entirely to realize that she’s out of the picture for good. There’s no way she’ll resurface, now that we’re onto her. I need to find a new lead.

  Closing my eyes, I mentally review everything I learned from her during the short interrogation. When I left, she was in tears, because I reminded her that her old boss is likely going to be gone when this is over, and Elijah will certainly see her banished from the kingdom. He doesn’t have the capacity to forgive those who hurt him and those he loves.

  Studious and quiet, Maya isn’t the kind to melt down like Alisha. She’ll likely go to Nijala, where she feels safe, and await Hassan to arrive. Not that her returning to Nijala will necessarily help me. I’ll have to be in Nijala in order to bug her home, but I have friends who can tip me off if she uses her passport to leave the State
s.

  I don’t know Hassan well enough to know his plan. Elijah’s father is erratic at best, which makes him almost completely unpredictable except in one way: he loves to hurt Elijah. The minute Hassan gets to Nijala, his captives are in serious trouble. Layla will be safe, but Natalie …

  She’s expendable, more so if Elijah’s father learns of her baby. A second heir to the throne, this one from the son he wants dead? Even if she wasn’t pregnant, Natalie is a threat to a monarchy staunchly opposing moving into the twenty first century. No Nijalan ruler or his consort has been of non-royal blood, and an American queen threatens to galvanize the discontentment of the lower class of Nijala, which suffers the highest level of poverty in the civilized world.

  “Whatever route Hassan takes, he’ll end up in Nijala to hand deliver Natalie to EJ’s father.” From there, I can’t begin to imagine what’ll happen and what Elijah will do in response. Father and son couldn’t be more different, except for one trait: neither has any sense of restraint. The two of them in a confrontation could destroy their country and everyone in it.

  Restless, I push back from the desk and debate what my next move will be. Thus far, none of the intelligence network I’ve built up over the years has provided any information. Granted, it’s still early, and good leads are likely to pop up soon. Waiting for them, however, is not an option, not with three lives in the balance.

  My gut tells me that, of all the properties the King of Nijala owns around the world, he’ll have Hassan bring the captives straight to him in Nijala. Our only way in, if we can’t find the girls first, is Elijah’s aunt, a woman who wants Elijah to lead a coup to overthrow the old guard of Nijala.

  I text him a quick note, asking for the status of his discussions with Malika. The moment I press send, unease drapes over me like a wet blanket.

  He deserves to know. I never keep secrets from Elijah. Knowing Natalie is pregnant kills me, because if I fail to find her in time, Elijah will lose them both.

  He won’t survive it. As much as he swears he doesn’t want children, he’ll take care of any child of his the way he does his sister: fiercely and absolutely, even if from a distance. His fear of himself is unfounded; the cruelty he was subjected to as a child isn’t hereditary. He’ll never be like his father, but no matter of convincing will help him believe it.

  I also know he’s in love with Natalie, even if he thinks breaking off his engagement to her is his way of protecting her. I imagine he’s going through what I did five years ago, when I lost Tracy.

  I can’t tell him yet, because I don’t know if I can save the woman he loves. One loss will be enough to kill him. Two might drive him mad.

  My phone vibrates. Your kitchen. It’s a message from Elijah.

  I dress wordlessly, lock my office and then leave Alisha to meet Elijah.

  Half a head shorter than I am and wiry where I’m thick, the heir to the Nijalan throne looks horrible. He’s normally a control freak, meticulous and fashionable. Right now, his hair is disheveled, his polo and jeans wrinkled. With the caramel skin characteristic of Middle Easterners, almond shaped dark eyes, and the chiseled features that belong on a magazine cover, he’s a woman magnet, even before they learn he’s a billionaire prince.

  “Anything?” he asks in his usual blunt way.

  “No,” I reply.

  “Why not, George? Why don’t you know anything?” He rubs the back of his neck. It’s clear he didn’t sleep last night. From being his closest friend for years now, I know what missing a night of sleep can do to him. It’s not this. This is stress, or rather, distress.

  “I’ve called in every favor I have. We have to wait until Hassan is spotted or slips up,” I tell him. “Or …”

  He pauses, listening.

  “Or we find a way to Nijala. Now.”

  “Fuck.” Elijah stares into the distance. He’s gone from a playboy with no cares in the world to a man who’s been plunged into the middle of a political nightmare and missing the women he loves. I don’t envy him. “Malika will probably help, in exchange for my cooperation. She’s working with her contacts here in the State Department and FBI. They all want to keep it quiet. I don’t know if that’s what I want at this point.”

  “Calling your father out in public might make him act irrationally.”

  “He’s already irrational, George, and he hates me,” Elijah replies. “I’ve agreed to help her. What other choice do I have?” The frustration in his voice is born of years of bitterness between him and the rest of his family. “The world loves Natalie. I can sway everyone against my father. Force him to give her up or abdicate.”

  “Or push him over the edge.”

  Elijah is quiet, pensive and worried. If someone had said he’d fall in love with a girl like Natalie, I’d never have believed it. That he chose someone sweet, kind and smart instead of one of his many call girls reinforces what I know about him. He’s a shrewd man but a good one, and far more intelligent than anyone gives him credit for.

  “She can get us into Nijala?” I ask.

  “She can get you into Nijala as part of her security detail. But me?” Elijah shakes his head. “My father has forbidden me to step foot in the country. I’m locked out.”

  “You may not be able to take the direct route, perhaps,” I reply. “Malika needs you in country for her plan to work. If your father has any hint that’s what’s going on, of course he’ll forbid you returning. Which is why we can always move you into the country via an indirect route.”

  “Tell me who I have to pay, and I’ll do it.”

  I study my closest friend. The depth of his affection for Natalie and Layla was clear to me the moment I had to tell him they were both gone. He tries hard to remain cold and hard to the world, while he secretly cares about more people than anyone else will ever know. He’s a sensitive, caring man beneath a thick, scarred shell, one Natalie managed to crack.

  “It’s not as easy as a bribe,” I tell him, aware of the intricacies and dangers of an already shady entity like a smuggling network.

  “Whatever you have to do, George, as much as it costs,” he says without blinking. “If I have to build a raft out of coconuts and paddle to Nijala, I will.”

  “Nothing like that, mate,” I assure him, entertained. “Have Malika get me in country with two others from my staff. And Alisha.”

  “Her?” Elijah’s eyebrows shoot up. “I can’t stand that woman.”

  “The feeling is mutual.” I suppress a smile. “She’s Natalie’s best friend, and I need her help.”

  “Are we that desperate?”

  I laugh. “She’s brilliant, EJ. The reason you don’t like her is because you view her as competition for Natalie’s attention.”

  “Whatever it takes.”

  “I’ll arrange to have you smuggled in. EJ, it can get dangerous.”

  He nods slowly. “I put them both in danger to start off with. It’s only right I’m in danger, too.”

  I consider, not wanting to think about the possibility that I’m about to put my friend in danger. I understand the desperation Alisha feels about Natalie’s situation. EJ and I have been brothers since shortly after we met. He was a scrawny, scared boy, and I was a family reject of above average size. We are both second sons, never meant to inherit our respective fathers’ wealth and titles, and accustomed to being constantly reminded of that by others. We were both bullied in school, me less so, because I was big enough to pound anyone who angered me.

  In my case, I’ll never inherit, given my status as a bastard. EJ hasn’t been home in over a decade and is estranged from his family. The only reason he’s in line to inherit the kingdom is because his older brother was killed in a car accident, likely set up by their father.

  We grew up with shitty lives and shitty families. We became brothers in the crucible of hell we went through. Everything we’ve been through, too, weighs on my thoughts as I think this all through.

  “I have a grave problem putting you in danger, mate,”
I tell him quietly.

  “I don’t have a problem with it.” His gaze grows distant. “I owe her this, if nothing else. I’d do anything for the chance to apologize.”

  There’s more to his words than I want to know. The pain in his tone prevents me from outright refusing to help him, despite the danger I know is inherent in this kind of situation. Elijah, the boy I protected as a child, is hurting, and I’ll do everything I can to make that go away, to protect him from experiencing what I did when I lost Tracy.

  “Your brother chairs an energy foundation,” Elijah says thoughtfully.

  “Half-brother.”

  “If I have to make a deal with Malika, you get to deal with your own devil,” he replies. “Maybe he can invite my father to a dialogue, something to get the king out of Nijala and give us a chance to get in. These kind of people like those things, George.”

  “True.”

  “Nothing like spreading a little familial treason, right?” Elijah asks bitterly. “I’m sure you’ve got secrets you can use to get your brother to do what you want.”

  Familial treason is what we’ve been calling his aunt’s plan to depose his father. It doesn’t sit well with either of us, even if we agree his father shouldn’t be on the throne.

  “Did you talk to your father yet?” I ask.

  “No.” Elijah’s gaze turns dark. “I need my head on right first. Or as much as possible, so when I tell him about the storm headed his way, he doesn’t kill my sister and fiancé.”

  And the child you don’t know about.

  “We both have important calls to make,” Elijah says and offers a tight smile. “I’ll have you on a plane to Nijala under Malika’s auspices by the end of the day. Go pack and find that woman.”

  “Will do. Take care, mate.”

  Elijah nods and walks away, towards the elevators.

  I lean back, mind going to the brother I don’t want to deal with. Elijah is right. Alexander is well positioned to provide assistance, if not in the form of a conference, then by using his connections with the British security apparatus to help me smuggle Elijah in.