Her Improper Desire, page 14
"Oh, you so did," Ember said darkly, "even if you didn't use the exact same words."
Francesca's jaw was beginning to hurt from too much laughter. "I'm sorry, but I really just can't help it. The sheikh caught you staring at him, but instead of realizing you've been drooling after him all this time—-he thinks you're out to kill him!"
Ember glared as mini-Francesca on her iPad screen started literally rolling on her (carpeted) floor while laughing. "Not funny, Che-Che. Not funny at all!"
"But it is, actually," Francesca protested as she sat up and wiped tears from her eyes. "And oh my gosh, Em. Can you imagine what he'd do if you actually tried touching his hair?"
Ember did not want to imagine it, but with Francesca having already asked the question out loud, a sequence of possible outcomes was already flashing in her mind, and all of them ended up with the sheikh throwing her behind bars.
"Can I include this in one of my books?"
Francesca's question had Ember looking at her friend in horror. "Don't you dare—-"
But it was too late, and Ember was left glaring at her phone as Francesca laughingly made a hurried excuse to end their Zoom call.
You have two lessons to learn here, Ember Hallman.
The first one was to never ever be friends with authors, and especially those who wrote bestselling erotica like Francesca.
And as for the second lesson—-
Never let yourself forget you have no business falling for a man like Sheikh Ilyas Al-Masri.
Not only would that road cost Ember her livelihood, but it was also guaranteed to destroy her heart, irreparably.
Ilyas
It was only half-past seven in the evening, and Ilyas was already this close to losing his temper. Tonight's dinner party had been organized to welcome Khadem's fiancée as a new member of their family, and Saif had invited hundreds of guests in order to proactively quell any possible rumors about the palace being unsupportive of Khadem's relationship with Prue.
Unfortunately, among those invited were the usual bunch of gold-diggers, sluts, and social climbers who were hoping to be the next royal bride of Huzna, and without Ember to ward them off like she usually did, Ilyas had no choice but to waste his time dealing with them himself.
He had forced himself to smile even when seeing a woman flutter her lashes at him made his skin crawl, but a man could only tolerate so much stupidity before being driven to drink, and fuck, fuck, fuck!
Another gold-digger was trying to catch his eye, but Ilyas' patience was all used up, and he no longer had it in him to pretend he was a gentleman.
Since tonight was an official event for his family, Ilyas hadn't the freedom to be his usual asshole self. As most of the world still pictured Huzna as a land of barbarians, it was Ilyas and his brothers' responsibility to prove everyone wrong...even if it meant having to hide his contempt towards women whose eyes were like bottomless wells of avarice.
"Psst."
Ilyas frowned. Had he just imagined that?
"Over here!"
A grimace crossed his features when he finally saw who it was, but since his choice was between Johanna and the gold-digger who was now heading his way like a piranha in heels, Ilyas decided to take his chances with Huzna's most famous fortune teller, never mind if the two of them had been butting heads since he was a kid.
The old woman cackled as Ilyas entered her "hut", which was actually an expensive replica of Johanna's home back in Huzna. The royal augur was very meticulous about her surroundings when reading people's fortunes, and since the king was a great believer of Johanna's skills, no expense had been spared in catering to the old woman's every need.
"Well, well, well..."
"Alright, fine. You were right again." Ilyas' tone was disgruntled. She had told him early this evening he would need her help, and it always irked him whenever her prediction came true.
Johanna waved for him to to take a seat, but Ilyas shook his head. "I'm only going to be—-"
The older woman shot him a scowl. "Sit."
Ilyas reluctantly did as bid, since respecting the elderly was one of the cornerstones of Huznan culture.
"Your palm, please."
"There's no need—-"
He hadn't even finished speaking when Johanna suddenly reached over her silk-covered table to capture his hand.
"Let go," Ilyas growled.
But the fortune teller was already using her nail to draw blood from his finger—-
"What the fuck?"
—-just before spitting on his palm.
Ilyas fought against the urge of driving his fist into the hut's fake wall. "You did that deliberately just to mess with me, didn't you?"
"Quiet!"
Ilyas's teeth gnashed. "You—-"
"Or I'll spit on your face next!"
Ilyas' mouth snapped shut. Johanna was a lot of things, but a liar she wasn't, and he had no fucking dreams of having another taste of her spit.
Johanna clucked her tongue as she studied the life lines etched on the sheikh's palm. "Beware a kitten that cries, for life as you know it will never be the same once its claws find their way to your heart."
Ilyas snatched his hand out of the old woman's hold. He had no idea what Johanna was talking about, and he had no plans asking what it meant.
The fortune teller grinned up at him as he came to his feet. "You're right, by the way."
Ilyas was in the middle of wiping the spit off his hand with a hanky when he heard her speak. "Right about what?"
"About that." She pointed to his hand with another cackle. "It was unnecessary, and I only did it to mess with you."
"Goddammit, old bat!"
Johanna was still cackling with glee as he stalked out of her hut, and it took him half an hour and about a dozen cycles of soaping and rinsing before Ilyas felt his hands were sufficiently clean of her spit.
The staff had just started serving dessert when Ilyas received a business call, and he didn't hesitate to use this as an excuse to leave the party earlier than planned.
Ilyas took the steel-and-glass bridge that connected the hotel to the commercial complex across the street, and he was just past the halfway point when he heard a faint mewl coming from an overturned box.
What the hell?
He nudged the box aside, and he cursed under his breath when he saw the kitten underneath.
Walk away, Ilyas.
Just walk the fuck away.
But when the kitten let out another miserable little cry, Ilyas found himself bending down...only to get himself scratched.
Fuck!
The kitten was obviously traumatized, but Ilyas was patient, and his soft, coaxing voice eventually won the little thing over, and Ilyas was able to gently scoop its body off the cold, hard tiles.
Beware a kitten that cries, for life as you know it will never be the same once its claws find their way to your heart.
Those were Johanna's exact words when she had supposedly read his palm, but Ilyas refused to believe that her augury had anything to do with this scraggly little thing.
The kitten rubbed its tiny head against his palm as Ilyas resumed walking, and it was fast asleep by the time he reached his workplace.
Unlike his brothers, who hadn't any problem working from their respective hotel suites, Ilyas didn't like mixing business with his personal life in any way. A compartmentalized routine was the key to an organized life, and rather than turning the spare room in his hotel suite into a temporary office, Ilyas had leased instead an entire floor of commercial space in the building next door.
Upon unlocking the door, Ilyas frowned at seeing all the lights in his office open.
"Oh, it's you."
Ember.
He had forgotten all about his troublesome little chick. Whenever they had to travel for work, Ember would nag and nag and nag until he finally permitted her to sleep in their office, which then allowed her to pocket the same amount of money Ilyas would've spent if she had been staying at a hotel.
"Oh my God, is that a kitten?"
Ember came running to him, and Ilyas found himself blinking. The secretary he was used to seeing always had her hair pinned up, a pair of dorky glasses perched over her nose, and her body hidden under some oversized blazer and a baggy pair of pants.
This girl, however...
"Poor, poor kitty."
As Ember took the kitten off his hands, Ilyas caught a glimpse of her tits jiggling behind the thin fabric of her night shirt.
And those tits...were very, very big...just the way he liked it.
"Was it abandoned? Or did someone force you to take it? You've never been into animals. Or at least not that I ever noticed."
Ilyas had a feeling he was supposed to say something, but he just couldn't take his gaze off Ember's tits. They really were amazingly huge, and fuck, fuck, fuck—-why the hell was he suddenly sporting the most massive boner under his pants?
Ember seemed to sense the change in his mood and glanced up at him uncertainly. "Sheikh?"
Ilyas abruptly turned his back before his secretary could catch a glimpse of his hard-on.
"Sheikh? Are you—-"
"I'm drunk."
A few seconds passed, and then he heard her say, "Oh, so that's why..."
Ilyas stiffened. Had he failed to hide his boner, after all?
"You'd never have picked this poor kitty up if you weren't drunk. You would still feel bad, I'm sure, but you would've gotten one of your bodyguards to take care of it."
And she was right, Ilyas realized broodingly. That was exactly what he would've done if he had been in the right frame of mind, but he hadn't done so...because he was drunk as fuck.
Get the hell out of here, Ilyas Al-Masri.
That was what he should do and would've done if he wasn't drunk, but Ilyas heard himself say something else instead.
"I'll be spending the night here."
And as expected, the words had his secretary squawking like a little chick.
"What? Why?"
Ilyas glanced down at his pants. Boner gone. Good. He turned back to face his secretary, who had her lips parted, also like a little chick. "What do you mean 'why'? We still have one spare bedroom here, don't we?"
"Yes, but—-"
"So that's final. I'm staying here while you and that kitten will have to leave."
"What?"
"Just use the company card to book yourself a suite," he instructed. "And if I find out you got yourself a measly standard, I'll deduct twice the fucking amount from your wages."
Ember muttered under her breath, and Ilyas scowled. "What the fuck did you just say?"
"I said you're an awesome...soul."
Ilyas stared at her unsmilingly. "No. It wasn't that."
"It was."
"I think you called me a 'bosshole'."
Ember let out a gasp that sounded unconvincing even to his drunk ears. "I would never call you that."
"Yes, you would, damn you."
But Ember no longer seemed to hear him. "Oh my gosh, I almost forgot all about you, poor little kitty." She held the tiny creature up for Ilyas to see. "Look, Your Highness. Doesn't it break your heart to see him shivering?"
"No."
"I know, right?" Ember hugged the kitten to her chest. "Poor little kitty."
"Goddammit, Ember, don't you fucking think I don't know what you're doing.
"Will you excuse me, Your Highness?"
"You're not just excused," Ilyas growled, "but I also want you and that thing out of here. Now."
"I promise I'll be quick. I just need to take care of this little one first."
Ilyas glared at her. "Goddammit, Ember."
But his secretary was already zipping around the office suite like a tiny redheaded cyclone, and in just ten minutes, she had managed to whip up an emergency kitten formula with ingredients from the pantry.
Ilyas warily approached Ember when she started feeding the kitten on the kitchen island. "Why don't you just give it milk?"
Ember smiled ruefully at him. "That only works in cartoons."
He saw her shift position on her feet while speaking, and it was then Ilyas noticed something protruding against the thin fabric of her night shirt. And since there were two of them—-
Ember's nipples.
Those were his secretary's nipples, goddammit, and they were fully erect because...of the air-conditioning.
Right?
Ilyas' jaw clenched.
Goddamn wine.
Of course, it had to be the A/C making her nipples pointed like that, and it was only because alcohol had fucked him up that his mind was thinking of another reason entirely.
"Poor kitty," Ember murmured. "It's so hungry."
"So am I."
His secretary looked at him in surprise, and it was only then that Ilyas realized he had actually muttered the words out loud.
Fuck.
"You're hungry?" Ember sounded bewildered. "But didn't you have dinner at the party?"
Ilyas gritted his teeth. She didn't get it. He had dinner, yes, but it wasn't food he was ravenous for. Just like the kitten, what he hungered for right now was milk.
More to the point, her milk.
And he wanted to drink it straight from her nipples.
"Sheikh?"
Ilyas closed his eyes. He was definitely drunk, and if he didn't do something now, he would soon be tempted to turn his wildly-out-of-control thoughts into reality.
"Are you alright?"
Ilyas carefully avoided catching another glimpse of her nipples as he looked at his secretary. "You and the kitchen—-"
Ember's brows shot up. "What about me and the kitchen?"
"I mean, the kitten, dammit. You and the kitten need to leave."
Ember was incredulous. "Why?"
"Just do as I say, dammit."
"But can't you see it's so tired?"
"Will you just fucking obey me—-Ember, dammit!"
She was off again doing God knew what, and Ilyas' head started to pound as he sought for control.
"Sorry," he heard Ember say as she returned to the kitchen. "I just remembered kittens need a lot of heat, so...ta-da!"
She beamed up at him as she showed Ilyas the bedside lamp from her room, and in yet another display of resourcefulness, Ember had also used a towel and a gift basket to create a cozy little nook for her four-legged charge.
Very, very impressive, Ilyas thought, but when his secretary turned to face him again, all he could see was how her nipples were still fully erect.
And the sight of it still made him hungry as fuck.
Chapter One
Ember knew she was playing with fire the moment she caught the scent of liquor clinging to the demon prince's skin.
It was bad enough that the sheikh in a tux was just so breathtakingly handsome it had her secretly weak in the knees, but for her royal bosshole to also come here while he was intoxicated and thus without his usual rigid self-control...
Don't take advantage, Ember Hallman!
She must remember she was a woman of uprightness, not lewdness.
It was all about thrust
Oh, um, she meant trust.
It was all about not betraying the sheikh's trust even in his moment of weakness, and while she truly didn't want to do that—-
Ilyas was making it so, so hard, with the way she had caught him staring at her like he had finally realized his secretary was a flesh-and-blood, honest-to-goodness woman.
Be gone, inner slut! Stop trying to make me sin!
Ember did her best to focus on taking care of her furry little patient, but since her brain was used to multitasking, it hadn't any problems taunting her with evil thoughts even while she was hard at work arranging the kitten's makeshift bed.
Saif himself had told her that Ilyas had only been drunk once, and the result had not been pretty. Those were his exact words: not pretty. And the way she saw it, couldn't those words also be synonymous to, um, not clean, which could also mean...dirty?
Did that mean Ember had every reason to hope fear that an intoxicated demon prince might just do something dirty?
Or maybe he might just do...her?
The shameful thought had Ember turning red, and she could only be thankful that she still had her back to the sheikh as she plugged her bedside lamp on the kitchen counter.
Have some decency, woman!
The sheikh was drunk. It was wrong to wish that he'd do her, but...
What if he did?
Because it could happen, right?
What if the sheikh was the one who made the first move? Did that free her to...um...do "something" back?
The thought made her feel faint even though she also knew it was wicked and foolish of her to actually wish for something to happen between the sheikh and her.
She absolutely knew that, but...she just couldn't help it.
What if?
The sheikh only had to make the first move, and just imagining all the dirty things that could happen afterwards had her already-swollen breasts aching for her thoughts to become reality.
Stop turning yourself on, you idiot!
Ember took one last deep breath before turning around. All she meant to do was transfer the kitten into his bed basket, but just as she reached for the sleepy little ball of fur, it was then she noticed where the sheikh was staring, and her heart nearly stopped beating.
Oh...yes, I mean, oh no, no, no, no.
The demon prince had noticed that her nipples were fully erect.
And instead of looking away, which she believed he would've done if he wasn't drunk, Ilyas was staring at her nipples like they were making him—-
Oh my God.
Was this what he meant earlier, when he said he was hungry?
Ember could barely think straight as she moved the kitten into his basket and transferred the whole thing to the counter.
The demon prince is drunk, and he knows it.
Ember adjusted the lamp head until it was shining down at the exact angle and radiating sufficient heat for the kitten without blinding it.
That's why he's trying to get rid of me.
Ember swallowed hard.
And I should let him...right?
Ember turned back to face the demon prince, and the first thing she saw was the seriously huge bulge behind his pants.
