He kissed, teased and sucked her clitoris, sending shivers through her body, hurtling her towards a climax she half feared. His thumb gently hooked on her entrance, pulling ever so slightly before he filled her with his fingers. Her breath became urgent, her legs shifting restlessly, her hands fisting his hair, holding her to him when he growled his delight, pushing him from her when he stopped. She wasn’t sure any more.
Let me taste you.
Let me drink you.
Let me bring you...
Her orgasm took her by surprise, exploding through her body like a meteorite, decimating any thought or sense she had. When she opened her eyes she was looking at the velvety sky above Öström, the stars myriad and beautiful, and she felt herself bright and burning as strong as any one of them. She felt both boundless but tethered, safe and protected. It was only then that she realised Aleksander was still holding her to him.
CHAPTER SEVEN
WATERSLUICEDOVERAleksander’s heated skin. Eight hours after he’d brought Henna to orgasm and then put her to bed,alone, his body was still burning for her, his breath was still catching in his lungs and he could absolutelynotgo into his meeting like this.
Damn it.
He’d kept the curse in, but it was a loud shout in his mind. Soaping up his hands, he swept them across his body efficiently, until he came to the jut of his erection and groaned. The slippery lubricant of the soap was too much. He had denied himself pleasure yesterday in favour of hers, and he would make the same decision over and over again. But as he firmed his grip on his arousal his hips surged against his will, one hand braced against the golden tiles of the bathroom, the other gliding to the tip of his penis, circling the head and sliding back down, and this time the groan fell in with the rush of water pounding down against his skin.
Henna’s eyes flashed in his mind, the way her thighs had parted for him, the damp heat between her legs, the taste of her, woman and sensuality, dripping on his tongue... He cursed again and he pressed his forehead against the tiles, the cool ceramic leaching the heat from his fevered brow, his breath coming in pants, harsh in comparison to the melodic litany of Henna’s from the night before. The way her cheeks had flushed as her climax grew nearer and nearer had Aleksander fisting the base of his shaft, a small pearlescent bead joining the drops of water against the bruised head of his need. But it was the memory of how she had fallen apart on his tongue, how she had let him hold her as her orgasm racked her body, that finally drew his own from him, his muscles corded, thighs locked and gut tight as he came.
By the time he opened his eyes the water had washed away the evidence of his need, making him a little more clear-headed, thankfully. Until he’d dressed and made his way towards the kitchen and he saw Henna at the table, head bent over the laptop she had brought with her. She had swept her hair into a messy bun and in doing so exposed the length of her neck, and instantly he was transported back to last night, to the feel of her skin beneath his fingers as he traced—
‘Coffee?’
‘Yes,’ he replied without missing a beat, even as his heart tripped over itself to catch up. She stood from the table, approached a coffee machine that hissed and spat, and magicked an espresso without looking him in the eye. Clenching his jaw, he fought the instinct to reach for her chin and turn her face to his so that he could see what he needed to. That she was all he could think about when he should be planning Kozlov’s downfall was dangerous and that she affected him so after what little they had shared was unacceptable. She threatened his focus and that was dangerous. To be the man he needed to be, the King his people needed, it was absolutely vital that he remained unaffected ateverylevel. He had given her what he could last night and there would be no more, and with that thought he left the cabin.
Klaus Brandt stood by the open window, blowing the smoke from his cigar out into the world, much to the disapproval of Olena Kelinski. The tension between the two was simmering, as it usually did whenever they were in the same room, but considerably less than when Ilian Kozlov was present. The Russian oligarch had the uncanny ability to ratchet up the tension with even the most mild-mannered of people, Sakura Maki being the perfect example. Aleksander rubbed at the dull tension at his temples, trying to focus on the most important matter for their consideration.
‘It won’t be easy,’ Sakura warned.
‘When did we ever shy away from hard work?’ he growled, drawing an assessing look from Javier Casas, the Spaniard with an incalculable net worth.
‘Something you want to share with the group?’ Javier teased.
‘Not particularly,’ Aleksander groused.
‘She’s very pretty,’ Olena’s rich Ukrainian accented voice purred.
Aleksander’s head whipped up. ‘She is none of your concern.’
Olena inclined her head, accepting his possessiveness over Henna.
The lower-level members of the organisation came from the UN, the IMF, Presidents, Prime Ministers, royalty and billionaires. But the group in this room comprised of the highest members. Every person had more money than a third of the world’s lowest income population,each. But all of them were united in one purpose: to use this organisation to redistribute the better part of that wealth where needed, to support initiatives that were denied backing because they didn’t know the right people, or weren’t prepared to offer the right investment incentive. Each and every person in the higher echelons of the organisation had a driving desire to see the world improve, economically, ecologically, technologically. Apart from Kozlov.
‘Revoking a membership hasn’t been done in over eighty years,’ Klaus said on a plume of blue smoke.
‘The man is a menace,’ Javier observed, distaste clear in his tone.
‘I’ll allow that he’s not a person I would have chosen, but the rules are the rules. Membership is passed down before the death of a previous member and their choice is inviolable,’ the German replied.
It was a way to keep the numbers steady and the organisation circumspect. There were certain criteria that must be met before the membership could be ratified, but Kozlov’s predecessor had been an ornery bastard and Aleksander couldn’t help but think he had chosen the Russian on purpose.
‘He skates too close to the edge,’ Sakura insisted.
Olena huffed. ‘Now is not the time for niceties. His dealings are illegal, his manner offensive and I’m appalled that it’s taken us this long to consider ousting him.’
‘In the past, members have done much worse,’ Javier reminded them.
‘And for an organisation determined to positively affect the future of the world, we might be putting too much stockin the past.Kozlov threatened,’ Aleksander said, his tone forbidding, ‘mysister.’