Page 45 of Her Arabian King

And he did.

He fucked her hard, so damn hard she could have sworn the room had started to spin, so damn hard it was like his phallus was tearing her pussy apart, and oh God, she loved it. She loved, loved the way it hurt, and when he started to grind his penis harder into her, his hips alternatively circling to make his phallus bump against the walls of her pussy—-

Her eyes rolled back, her breath caught, and her body tensed.

“Khalil—-”

The sheikh responded by reaching between their bodies as he withdrew his phallus. When he thrust back into her, he also slipped one finger inside of her, ensuring that every inch of her was stuffed –

Her pussy stretched open, her pleasure rocketed out of control, and Harper came apart with a scream.

She sobbed as she came, the strength of her release making her body heavy and pliant as the sheikh plunged into her over and over, fucking her with both his penis and his finger, fast and hard, until after another moment he, too, reached his release, the sheikh letting out a harsh growl as he shot his cum into her.

Later, much, much later, the sheikh carried his wife into the palace’s private Turkish bath, which was connected to his suite with a secret passageway. She was unnaturally silent, and she was clinging to him rather than resisting his touch like usual, and when he looked down at her, the first thing he saw was the fear that flickered in her eyes.

As they slipped into the water, he made her straddle him, and his lips slightly curved when she blushed at the way her breasts bobbed gently between their bodies.

“Why can’t we just shower the way normal people do,” she muttered, arms crossing over her chest.

“Because I’m a king?” She grunted in response, amusing him, but even so he didn’t forget what he had glimpsed in her gaze, and slowly, he murmured her name.

“Harper.”

Oh, shit. She knew that soft, coaxing voice of his, and she did her best to resist it, teeth sinking hard into her lower lip. But then he reached for her, winding a lock of her hair around his finger, and it was all she could do not to mewl.

Her hair unwound from his finger, and then he was clasping her cheek—-

His gentle, protective warmth was impossible to ignore, and before she knew it, she was already rubbing her face against his hand like a kitten begging for its master’s affection.

Damn sheikh. Damn sheikh. Damn sheikh.

But even so, she couldn’t help enjoying his touch.

“I have something to ask of you, malakti, and I need you to answer me honestly.”

And there it was, she thought. An order he’d leave her no choice but to obey—-

The sheikh cupped her chin. “What are you afraid of?”

Oh. It stunned her that he would notice her fears, and she couldn’t help hedging, muttering, “It’s unimportant.”

“Allow me to be the judge of that, qalifa.”

“But it’s really silly—-”

“Harper.” His voice was still soft, but underlying it was a note of command. “Speak of your trouble.”

“Oh, fine.” She knew she was being ungracious about it, but she didn’t care. “I’m just worried I’d end up embarrassing you this weekend.”

Silence.

And Harper felt hurt. “You think the same thing, too, don’t you?’

“No.”

“Ha!”

He shook his head. “Do you truly believe I could be so easily embarrassed?”

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