Her Older Sheikh (Sheikh Breaks My Heart #9)

Chapter One

H oly, holy guacamoley, but he's actually here!

He's actually here again!

I'm beside myself with excitement, and for several moments, all I can do is just stare and stare and stare.

You so hot, Mr. Mine!

I have to take a few deep breaths before I'm able to unglue my feet from the floor, and ideas ranging from cute to crazy pop in my head as I brazenly pick the table right next to his.

Should I wait for him to make the first move or should I just walk up straight to Mr. Mine and remind him about his "message"?

Since there's no one else around, can't I just tell him that real men have never done it for me, and only 2D guys have made my pussy all sweet and wet...until him?

Tell me, Mr. Mine.

What must I do to have you fall for me?

My heart gallops away as I feel him staring at me, and I don't know whether to feel embarrassed or naughty when I feel my boobs jiggle against my racerback as I take my seat.

The intensity of his stare has my nipples waking up and stretching against the thin strapless cups of my bra. I almost feel like I'm performing for his pleasure when he actually takes a sip of his coffee while watching me, and I have to bite my lip hard so I'm not tempted to ask if he has any private requests.

Oh Mr. Mine, how you seduce me, and all without even trying.

Just feeling his gaze on me takes my breath away, and the longer I'm in his presence, the more I feel like flames are about to lave my entire body, with all six-feet-plus of him pulsing with sexual heat.

Animal magnetism makes perfect sense now that I'm just a foot or so away from Mr. Mine, and things like being civilized suddenly feel boring and overrated.

Why be with a boy who can only give you a ho-hum peck on the cheek when you can have Mr. Mine ruin every inch of your body? Why date a gentleman who will only kiss your hand...when you can have Mr. Mine adore your flesh in the most obscene ways there are?

Just thinking about all the dirty things a man like him can do to my body makes a thousand tingles travel all over my flesh, and when wanton restlessness has me unable to resist stealing a look at Mr. Mine, I nearly end up swooning.

Oh, you perfect man!

Mr. Mine licking a stray drop of coffee off his lip is a more sensual sight than the most erotic ad for men's underwear. I've seen other men do the same thing, but it's just not the same. How does he make everything he does so, so hot?

I take another peek at him, and it suddenly feels criminal to hog all this beauty to myself.

Mm.

A wildly genius idea captures my thoughts, and it has me hastily swallowing back a giggle. What if ...I secretly take his photo and submit it to Hot Dudes Reading ?

I'm already taking my phone out before I can even make up my mind, and as I discreetly get my phone to zoom in closer and closer and closer—-

Oh my.

How can a man have such extraordinarily long, beautiful lashes? Can this man be any more perfect?

That does it then.

I absolutely need to take a photo of him, and just as I squirm to get the perfect angle, and hide my phone behind my table's floral centerpiece, my phone camera lets out a loud telltale clicking sound—-

Eeek!

Mr. Mine finally looks my way, and shock has my iPhone slipping out of my suddenly nerveless fingers.

Busted.

All I can do is stare in horrified fascination as Mr. Mine rises gracefully to his feet...in order to pick my phone from the floor. He arches a brow when he sees what's on the screen, and when he glances at me, all I can do is smile weakly. "Oops?"

His lips twitch ever so slightly, and I just want to swoon all over again.

How does he do it, seriously?

Why you so, so unbelievably hot, Mr. Mine?

Does this all come naturally to you?

Or is there a secret charm school for men that you took classes in?

Mr. Mine glances at my table, and I'm momentarily distracted by the color of his eyes. Tiger-gold, I can't help thinking, and the color is exquisitely apt. If he was a beast, he would definitely be all big, sleek, and dangerously fast like a tiger.

"May I?"

My heart pounds when I realize what he's asking for. I allow myself a little nod...and a moment later, it's all I can do not to gasp.

That he'd take the seat across mine was a given, or so I mistakenly thought.

But instead he takes the chair adjacent to mine, and my body burns even hotter when our knees bump ever so briefly under the table. It's just the most fleeting of contact, but I feel like it deserves some kind of record for being able to make a woman all hot and bothered in the shortest amount of time.

My gaze drifts to Mr. Mine as I wait for him to apologize and say it's just an accident, but this turns out to be another erroneous expectation, since all he does is gaze at me with lazy, tiger-gold eyes.

"You look nervous."

His voice is just as manly as I remember. It's all deep and strong, with just a hint of roughness that teases you into thinking what kind of beast he'd be in bed.

"Why?"

Sweet, sweeeet baby Jesus.

Something starts spreading sinuously through my veins, and it takes a moment for me to realize it's actually lust that has invaded my blood.

I've read about this, you know.

Like, countless times.

Big bad alphas always purr.

Always.

They usually do it when they've found the woman they want to fuck, and the fact that Mr. Mine is now purring like all of those sexy, fake-mean heroes in my favorites books—-

Get a grip on yourself...self!

"Is it because of this?"

Color steals over my cheeks as Mr. Mine places my phone on the table.

Busted, 2.0.

So I forgot about my little misdemeanor, and now I'm not quite sure how to atone for it. Should I apologize for secretly taking a photo of him? Or should I tell him I was just being selfless, and that I sincerely believed his photo can be an FDA-approved treatment for PMS?

It's hard to figure out what I'm supposed to say, with how I'm suddenly distracted by the way his black cotton shirt has stretched as Mr. Mine leans back against his chair.

Oh yeah, baby!

I still can't tell if he has chest hair or not, but at least the shirt does a great job at accentuating the amazing breadth of his shoulders and the incredible expanse of his chest. I'm not saying he's huge huge like The Rock, but it's more like he's ooh-la-la huge like Henry Cavill, and—-

Oops!

The way his lips have this eensy weensy curve like an almost-smirk makes me realize I've been staring at his chest rather dreamily for quite some time...and that he's been watching me do it from the very start.

Busted, 3.0.

I can only look at him sheepishly at this point. "Sorry."

"For staring? Or for taking a photo of me?"

He's purring again, and my heart races away at the sound of it. I may be boyfriend-less since birth, but I know when someone's flirting with me, and I just want to pinch myself.

Mr. Mine!

Flirting!

Me!

Lust gushes out of me, and all I can do is hurriedly snap my legs close under the table. This has never happened to me before, and as shameless as it is to want this, but I really hope there comes a day I can tell him the truth.

I just think it would be cute, awesome, and kinky if I could one day tell Mr. Mine that he once asked me to do the impossible. I want to be able to whisper into his ear, I'm sorry, Mr. Mine. I really do want to obey you, but it's just impossible to be not wet when you're around.

One day, maybe.

I'll have a chance to say that.

But since I'm not that confident just yet—-

I look at him from under my lashes, which is my first attempt to flirt back, ever. "Which do you think I should apologize for?"

Tiger-gold eyes gleam at me, and all I know of grammar goes poof because I. IS. SWOONING.

"I don't mind the former," Mr. Mine says lazily, "but the latter could get you arrested...maybe even killed."

I start to laugh...but stop when he seems utterly serious. "Uh..."

"You'll just have to trust me on this."

Oh, phew.

I really thought he was serious for a moment there, but I think we're flirting still, and so I bite my lip like he has me terribly worried. "I don't think so."

He leans even closer, and my lungs threaten to collapse as his scent envelopes me.

"Why not?"

"Because you strike me as the dangerous type."

"If that's what you think..." Mr. Mine gently runs his knuckles down my cheek as he speaks, and it's all I can do not to gasp and shiver.

"Then you're absolutely right. I'm not someone good or nice. I'm bad in every unimaginable way there is—-"

He looks at me under his extraordinarily long lashes, and my inner folds ache and swell.

"But we both know it's all those things as well that has your pussy crying out for my dick."

Holy, holy, holy... fuck-a-holey.

I can't believe he just said that, but on the other hand, it also feels very much like him to say the words, and while I know these things are supposed to scare and offend good girls like me—-

That's just not how the real world works, ever since Internet became a thing.

Nowadays, you can be just like me, a home-schooled island girl who never smokes, drinks or parties. I'm the kind of girl who never wants to do drugs and always goes to church on Sundays—-but who also happens to own a Kindle full of dirty books and uses a VPN to watch porn, incognito .

Girls like me are neither good nor bad. Rocking the boat isn't our thing, but we do want to get into trouble now and then, and my Mr. Mine?

He's exactly the kind of man that he says he is. He's everything I shouldn't want, and that's why he's a man I can't trust. But for him to imply that I only want him because of that...

That's where he's wrong.

So, so wrong.

I want him because he is trouble, but I also want him because I know there's something special between us.

And it's the same for you, isn't it, Mr. Mine?

You may not be ready for it, but deep, deep inside you know it's true.

You know we have something special between us, and from the first moment our eyes met, you were also looking at me like I'm just as much trouble for you.

And that's what I don't get, really.

Am I not supposed to be someone that Mr. Mine can want and have?