Sheik Down
“Not the sexy kind of sweat that made a guy look like he’d just oiled his body after pumping iron, but that nasty, armpit-itching, cold line down your back kind of sweating that never did anybody any favors. Raid Faisal was sex in a tailored European suit. He wore the modern low-rise waistline and flawlessly tapered business shirts that skimmed the lean, narrow line of his torso with a casual elegance of being born into it.
He could’ve stepped from a fashion magazine. Like GQ. Hell, he could’ve ...stepped out of Forbes and been perfectly positioned among its ranks, because Sheik Raid Faisal wasn’t just a walking, talking orgasm. Sheik Raid Raisal had bank. The bank of a royal Arabian family behind him, thanks to the love affair of one wayward prince for an American debutante some thirty-five years ago.
And thanks to that same heritage, the owner of Kanz international jewelry chain had the natural bronzed skin, black curled hair and ebony eyes of his mixed heritage. The sonofabitch was blessed, from his equine nose to his full, smooth lips.MoreLess
He could’ve stepped from a fashion magazine. Like GQ. Hell, he could’ve ...stepped out of Forbes and been perfectly positioned among its ranks, because Sheik Raid Faisal wasn’t just a walking, talking orgasm. Sheik Raid Raisal had bank. The bank of a royal Arabian family behind him, thanks to the love affair of one wayward prince for an American debutante some thirty-five years ago.
And thanks to that same heritage, the owner of Kanz international jewelry chain had the natural bronzed skin, black curled hair and ebony eyes of his mixed heritage. The sonofabitch was blessed, from his equine nose to his full, smooth lips.MoreLess
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