Total pages in book: 63
Estimated words: 62056 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 310(@200wpm)___ 248(@250wpm)___ 207(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 62056 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 310(@200wpm)___ 248(@250wpm)___ 207(@300wpm)
"Are you really a prince?"
"I'm a sheikh with royal blood, yes."
A sheikh.
It sounds very exotic, and very much him, but—-
"Aren't sheikhs supposed to marry...lady sheikhs?"
He chokes.
"Did I say it wrong? Is it sheikhess? Sheikhueen? Maybe Sheikhina like Shakira—-"
"Are you trying to make me laugh?"
I grin, and he groans.
"Damn you."
He's saying those words that way again, and the sound tugs painfully at my heartstrings.
"I thought the truth would make you..."
"Angry?"
"And hurt," he says grimly.
"Why should it?"
"Because I lied to you."
A rueful smile curves over my lips. "Let's put it this way. I'm just glad that you only lied about being a prince, rather than me finding out you're only with me because of my grandfather's money."
I'm hoping those words are enough to clear things up, but Rashad's expression remains strained.
"Stop being a worrywart," I chide him teasingly. "Can't we just kiss and make up, please?"
I only mean it as a joke, but when his gaze goes straight to my lips, sexual tension erupts in the room, and I can barely breathe as Rashad slowly lets go of my hands.
His gaze holds me captive, and all I can do is tremble and ache as he joins me in the couch.
This man can have any girl he wants, but for some reason, it's me that he craves, me that his tiger-gold eyes are now busily devouring.
It's that same look again in his eyes, and lust tickles down my spine as I find myself unable to resist asking—-
"Are you finally going to eat me?"
The desire in his eyes turns hotter and wilder, and it's all I can do not to moan as he traces my lips with his thumb.
His touch is fire, and I'm burning with need.
"You don't know how badly I want to kiss you."
He's growling like some beast in heat, and it has me begging him shamelessly.
"Then kiss me. Please."
"I can't."
Frustration fills me, and I don't bother hiding it. "Why?"
"Because when I do, it will leave your lips so damn swollen, and everyone who sees you will know exactly why that is...your grandfather included."
Oh.
He raises a brow. "But if that's okay with you—-"
I quickly shake my head. "It's not."
Another one of his sexy little almost-smirks forms over his lips. "I thought you'd say that...which is why I'll need you to choose something else."
My forehead creases. "Choose what?"
"A secret part of your body," he says lazily, "that you want me to claim first."
Holy, holy, holy Mother of Debauchery!
Rashad once said he's bad in every unimaginable way there is, and I so believe him now.
"Are you serious?" I ask breathlessly.
"Tick tock, my sweet," he says mockingly. "Choose now or I'll make the choice—-"
I actually feel a little nervous, and I say in a rush, "I choose my boobs!"
His lips twitch, and I realize I might've actually screamed the words out?
"Excellent."
And now he's purring, and I feel excited, scared, and pressured all at once.
"Don't expect much. Like literally." I know I've started babbling, but I can't help it. "They're not that big—-"
"They're perfect."
"No, they're not—-"
"And I'll make you feel just how perfect they are."
Forget about swooning.
Because this time, I. IS. DROWNING.
"Raise your arms, my sweet."
The words remind me of how my favorite 2D heroes enjoy ordering their own women around, and I. IS. LOVING. IT.
Up my arms go, and Rashad gently pulls my blouse over my head.
My arms lower back down, and I see him staring at my breasts like they're a feast for his eyes.
"Perfect," he whispers, and I can only moan and writhe when he finally reaches for my tits.
His fingers slowly trace their roundness, and my boobs swell at the teasing gentleness of his touch. He promised to make me feel how perfect they are, and I definitely feel it now.
I never thought a man could ever look at my boobs this way, and sweet, sweet, sweeeet fantasy, baaaaaaaby—-
Rashad suddenly claims my waist to haul me up, and just as I find myself kneeling on the couch, and my legs are straddling his strong, hard thighs, he's also yanking my bra down, and now he's cupping my tits—-
Oh...yeeees.
Perfection is exactly how he makes me feel as he nuzzles the valley between my boobs while his hands start kneading my swollen pair of globes.
He kneads them slowly and gently, then roughly and forcefully, and just as I cry out at how perfect it all feels, Rashad makes it more so when he finally takes one nipple into his mouth and starts suckling.
Oh yes, oh please, oh gosh.
He sucks and sucks and sucks, and all I can do is clutch the back of the couch as he claims this secret part of me like he promised.
My nipples are now on fire, and a cry spills past my lips as he moves to claim my other tit and the whole tortuously perfect cycle begins anew.
Don't stop, please.