Total pages in book: 49
Estimated words: 46344 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 232(@200wpm)___ 185(@250wpm)___ 154(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 46344 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 232(@200wpm)___ 185(@250wpm)___ 154(@300wpm)
Would it be a sin if that look in his eyes thrilled rather than terrified her?
“This is bad, Malik,” Kyria said in a small voice.
“It is.” His lips curved in a sinfully beautiful smile. “And that’s how we want it, don’t we?”
Her heart slammed against her chest.
His head started to lower.
Oh no.
His lips, now an inch away from hers, started to move. “Kiss me,” the sheikh whispered.
Oh, oh, no.
But her eyes still closed, her face lifting to his, and their lips touched.
Oh yes.
The kiss was heartbreakingly tender at the first second, but then his tongue slipped in, and their kiss turned hot and fierce in an instant. His hands let go of hers to hold her by the waist and haul her close, and instead of pushing him away Kyria’s arms went around his neck while her legs wrapped around his waist. The new position had the sheikh groaning her name out loud, and the sound demolished what little sense she had left.
She moaned against his lips, a silent plea for more of the pleasure that she knew only the sheikh could give her.
“Kyria, fuck...”
The sheikh’s hands moved down to her hips, and gripping them hard, he began moving her up and down his engorged cock.
Arousal and disbelief warred inside of her, and fighting hard to cling to her sanity, she tried to get up, stammering, “We’re o-outside—-”
“It’s fine,” the sheikh rasped. “This whole area is covered by my security.” And with that, his hands tightened around her hips, and even as Kyria let out a small sound of protest, he was still making her move, grinding her pussy down on his cock. His ridged erection rubbed against her folds, faster and harder, driving her mad, making her want more of the pressure—-
Sweet heavens, she wanted more.
More.
MORE!
The sheikh’s fingers disappeared under the loose folds of her robe, and everything else ceased to matter. His fingers found her already wet panties, and she gasped his name. Their gazes clashed as his fingers slipped under the drenched fabric—-
“I’m going to make my little sister come,” he whispered.
Such dirty, dirty words, words no prince like him should say, but oh—-
A whimper escaped Kyria as a sensual shudder racked her body.
One finger thrust inside of her, and her eyes rolled back.
“M-Malik—-”
He pulled his finger out and shoved it back, harder, and another shudder tore through her body, her breasts swelling painfully against her bra.
And then he was doing it rhythmically, his finger thrusting in and out of her—-
Malik, finger-fucking her, his little sister—-
The thought made her stiffen, her fingers clutching his shoulders hard. “Malik—-”
It was all she could manage to say, the sensations rocking her body too much, but it was enough. He knew exactly what she was asking for.
“Come for me, shaqifa.”
A cry escaped Kyria, and as his finger pushed deep into her one last time, her body tumbled into a maelstrom of pleasure, a place where right or wrong didn’t matter, and only the most forbidden feelings existed.
Forty-five minutes later, and the maids were back at the balcony, the two older women expressionless as they cleared the table. The sheikh was still seated at the head of the table, his handsome features relaxed, and his posture one of indolent satisfaction. Simply put, he looked like a man who just had a taste of nirvana—-
And at that moment, said nirvana was red-faced while trapped on his lap.
“Malik, this is crazy,” she said helplessly under her breath on her nth failed attempt to get herself released. “Didn’t I say we should take it slow?”
“That you did,” the sheikh purred. “But I don’t recall agreeing to it. Do you?”
She tried to answer, intending to tell him he had unfairly tricked her on that score, but as soon as she opened her mouth he had covered it with his, and her body stiffened. Dimly, she heard the maids politely excusing themselves, and though her cheeks heated at the thought of how lewd a picture she and the sheikh made—-
It was too late.
His kiss, as always, robbed her of logic, and by the time he lifted his mouth she could only look up at him, a slave to his touch.
“Do you regret this, Ky?”
Slowly, she shook her head. “No.” Even though things seemed to be moving faster than it should be – faster than she felt comfortable with even – she meant it. Swallowing hard, she asked, “Do you regret this?”
His eyes bored through hers. “What do you think?”
An uncertain smile touched her lips. “I guess...not?”
“Fuck guessing,” the sheikh said, and a little laugh escaped her, the sound fading only as Malik clasped her face with both hands. “I will never regret this.”
“Same here,” Kyria whispered.
They looked at each other, both believing that they spoke the truth.
But it wasn’t so.
FOR THE REST OF THE week, Malik and Kyria didn’t even take one step out of his suite, with the sheikh determined to “train” her into being accustomed to his presence. Basically, it involved Kyria needing to stick close to the sheikh whenever and wherever. For the most part, it also inevitably involved slaps, kicks, and punches.