From A Lover To Another 1

3.3 Last Chapter (Smut)

JJ's suite is the only hotel room in all of Dubai that offers a three-hundred-and-sixty-degree view of the city but thanks to its location in the very centre of the roof it is entirely hidden from view. There are floor-to-ceiling windows but not a single curtain. He and Hadiyeh are surrounded by soft, twinkling lights and a warm glow from the central fireplace. There are candles in the room, and lights on the balcony. JJ thought about music but decided against it, hoping to hear the music of her breath instead. The heavy drumbeat of her heart. That is the song he wants to hear tonight.

She stops inches from the huge, soft bed, and runs her fingers along the coverlet. She turns to him. Her eyes are quizzical, and she tips her head to the side. 

"You look nervous," she hums.

"I want you to like it."

"I love it. How could I not?"

JJ shakes his head. That's not what he meant.

"I want you to like... me."

So, yes, he is nervous. JJ has never lacked company, and his company has always been more than willing to offer their bodies for a night in the hopes of securing more. He is no saint. And he feels guilty about this. He does not want to be the sort of man who uses women for his own pleasure and then discards them. Perhaps it would have been different if he had ever felt as though the women who have passed through his life weren't using him as well. Pursuing his wealth instead of him.

JJ Olatunji has in fact never pursued a woman before Hadiyeh and at first, he did not like the fact that he couldn't seduce her. Then he realized there was something exquisitely erotic about the anticipation. It's not that he hasn't wanted her. He has ached from it. But this longing and need have created two things he has never experienced before: intimacy and trust.

Hadiyeh meets his shameless gaze. "I would like you a great deal more if you weren't wearing any clothes."

JJ tries not to laugh but cannot help himself. There is a starved look in her eyes and he is the only meal in sight. Hadiyeh takes a step toward him and rises onto the balls of her feet. She brushes her lips against his. She runs her tongue in the space between them. Slides her warm hands beneath the lapels of his coat, across his chest, and up toward his tie. Hadiyeh loosens the knot with graceful, assured fingers.

"Aren't I supposed to be the one undressing you?" he asks, brushing his lips lightly back and forth against hers. 

"Is that a rule?"

He laughs and pulls away in order to see her face. "So I've heard." 

She dispatches his tie efficiently. "I hate rules." 

"How about we take turns? An item for an item?"

"No."

Hadiyeh moves her fingers to his shoulders. She is entirely uninterested in his coat and pushes it off and then down so it drops to the floor at his feet. She moves her fingers to the first button at his throat. Then the next. And the next until his shirt hangs open.

"I hate cuff links," she mutters, fumbling with them. He pulls them out and decides that he will never wear them again.

Shirt gone.

Undershirt gone.

And there it is, the first hint of music to JJ's ears. Hadiyeh makes a small sound of pleasure at the sight of his bare chest. She sets her palm against his heart, and then she walks around him in a circle-never lowering that hand-and he feels the heat of her skin touching his. Chest. Biceps. Back. She pauses here to explore the dip that runs from shoulder blades to hips. Runs one finger up and down, up and down. He shudders at the featherlight touch. Mr KSI himself stands in the middle of his hotel room, eyes closed, breath caught in his throat as his wife of six hours presses lips between his shoulder blades.