Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 67518 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 338(@200wpm)___ 270(@250wpm)___ 225(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67518 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 338(@200wpm)___ 270(@250wpm)___ 225(@300wpm)
A new mark.
Unsuspecting.
And the contentment won’t fade from his eyes because the chap will never see it coming.
That’s all that matters.
The kill.
Not the fucking world record. I don’t give a bloody fuck what the mark has done. Botch a minor deal or a major cock-up. It’s of no importance. The essential difference between a mark I expired yesterday and the one in my crosshairs today is his ticker is still bloody ticking.
A waiter blocks their boss, my mark, for a nanosecond, dropping another tray of alcohol. Once the waiter is out of the line of fire, my target’s forehead is no longer the focal point of my scope. He’s now leaning back in his chair with a cocksure grin as sweat dribbles down his brown skin. He lights a cheap cigar, looking up at the sweltering sky.
My breath stalls.
The Arab takes the last puff of his cigar.
I squeeze the trigger.
Nice.
A precise hole wedges between his eyes. Smile frozen, the Arab falls back dead.
“Chipper cunt,” I mutter. While drawing their guns, his crew springs to their feet, fire lit under their arses.
“Where did that come from? Fuck! Fuck!” I read their lips through my scope as they speak Arabic. Gripping AK-47s tightly, they point in all directions. Mission complete. Hard work done; time to play.
In all my travels, nothing trumps the alluring seductiveness of Middle Eastern women. Alright, I’ve said that a time or two about many different women. When in Paris, I’m drawn to lovely Parisians.
Egypt, South Africa, Peru. I delight in the versatility of women. Porcelain white, dark mahogany. Thick hair, silky strands. Plush lips, pink lips. I collect them, one and all, for a time. But I’m in Saudi Arabia and have set my sights on the Sheikh’s daughter. Princess Noor’s black marble eyes prompt me to forget about my previous conquests. Even though her sheer niqab covered much of her face, the depth of her eyes had me imagining how beautiful the forbidden Noor was. She’d been secretly enticing me for days.
At the prime age of thirty-four years old, I’m aware Noor would forever be off-limits to a Brit like me. The warning of steadying my gaze on Noor for a fraction has lethal consequences.
“You will die for this,” Noor warns in Arabic after I have followed her to a compound away from the Sheik’s palace.
I stop at the threshold, considering her words. Noor’s father would fucking murder me himself. She leans against the door with eyes begging for acquisition. Noor turns the knob and sweeps through the entryway.
I step into the dimly lit room, pulling the door shut behind me. Colorful silk linens drape a large bed, and Noor’s tempting perfume infuses the air. There are probably rooms upon rooms here that have heard her soft coy moaning.
I stand over her, pushing the veil away from her temple, enough to thumb a strand of her dark hair. “Have you ever gotten on your knees before, pretty princess?” But of course, you have.
She unwraps the translucent niqab, uncovering a gorgeous face. A pink tongue wets moderately plump lips. “Nope.”
Dropping a hand to my massive chest, I show my appreciation of her. Next, it’s back to business as usual, the acute stare, the muscles in my jaw constricting, as I eye her over.
“You’ll be permitted to kneel momentarily. Undress, now.” My gaze captures every bit of Noor’s golden body as she disrobes. Beneath the silken layers are perky tiny breasts, nipples hard.
No bra. No panties. No hair.
“Widen your stance.”
She slides her feet apart, and her slender hips extend.
“Two fingers, open yourself for me, Noor.”
She gets fancy with it, snaking her hands into the air. Noor slides them over a trim stomach, past her mound, and into her cunt.
While her moans lift off, I’m not hard yet.
“No, pretty princess, that was not my order. Push your lips back, show me your lovely pearl.”
At my command, Noor removes her drenched fingers. I examine her cleanly shaven pussy, which hasn’t seen an innocent day since the Queen of England last declared war.
I’m not dipping into that cunt. A smile parts my hardened features.
“Quite a pretty little cunt you have there. Have you ever underdressed yourself, or anyone else for that matter, Noor?”
“No.” She’s drowning in a haze of desire, intrigue, enthusiasm.
Her smile mirrors mine then becomes full-blown as I gesture to myself.
Noor slowly unbuttons my khakis and pulls them down.
“You may fall to your knees now.”
The princess descends, taking in a sharp bit of air and uttering thanks to God in her native tongue.
“That’s right, pretty princess. Now, I suspect no one has ever punished you.”
Sparkling obsidian gems peer up at me. She’s begging for a belt on her arse or a cock in it.
“I feel the faintest scrape of teeth, and you will know what true punishment is, Noor.”
Moaning deeply to relax her muscles to the girth and length of me, Noor opens her warm wet mouth, enveloping the tip of my cock. Then takes another inch. And another inch until Noor can no longer fit anymore. She whimpers as if mesmerized and craving even more of my dick. Noor’s head bobs up and down. Her tongue twirls around the nerve endings in my manhood.