Page 19 of Her Arabian King

“What kind of man you must think of me, qalifa.” His voice was softly chiding.

Harper felt defensive. “It’s the first thing that occurred to me, and it’s not like I really know you.”

“What you suggested was dishonorable.” The sheikh’s tone had become silky. “Do I seem like that kind of man to you?”

Oh. Shit. Right. She hated it when the sheikh won a point over her. “Fine,” she grouched. “Sorry.”

“Gracious as ever,” the sheikh murmured.

“I said I’m sorry,” she snarled. “What else do you want, for me to go down on my knees—-” She shut up, but it was too late, the words were already out, and she knew it had been the wrong thing to say. But when her gaze flew to his, and she saw the way his eyes were burning, his nostrils once again flaring – maybe, maybe it wasn’t that wrong a thing?

“A good suggestion,” Khalil said thickly.

It was.

And he reached for her –

And she let him.

This was crazy, Harper thought hysterically. Wasn’t this what she was running away from? Wasn’t this exactly what she did not want to happen?

And yet—-

“Kneel for me, Harper.”

And she did. Oh my God, she actually let him guide her as she half-crawled between his legs and when she fell on her knees, her heart raced, and oh God, oh God – was that moisture she was feeling between her own legs, drenching her panties?

Was she wet...at the thought of blowing him?

“Release me.” It was a command.

And she wanted to follow it.

Dear God, why did she love being commanded by this damn sheikh?

She watched her fingers reach for the hem of his robe, pushing it up to reveal the pair of cotton trousers underneath. She then untied the strings to loosen its band and as he lifted his hips, she pulled both his trousers and his briefs down. He kicked them away as soon as they reached his ankles, and when she moved back to kneel between his legs and looked at him—-

Oooooooh.

The sight of his phallus greeted her. Larger than she could ever imagine, and thicker, oh God, it was so thick, she could only gulp and think weakly that now, she finally understood why they called men’s penises meat.

She was sure it would fit her pussy. It had to. It was meant to. But would it fit her mouth? Maybe it would if she had a mouth like Angelina Jolie’s, but it wasn’t. She looked up at the sheikh, seriously worried. “I have a small mouth.”

The words were not what Khalil had expected, and he threw his head back in laughter. He could not remember ever laughing while sporting a raging hard-on, and it only seemed fitting that he would have this moment with Harper.

Leaning forward, he reached for her face and slowly traced her small Cupid’s bow lips. The feel of his touch on her lips made Harper tremble, and she trembled even harder when she heard him whisper huskily, “You have a lovely mouth, Harper.”

Oooooh.

“My penis will stuff it perfectly.”

Oh. My. God. Wetness gushed out of her, forcing Harper to press her legs together in an effort to control her shuddering reaction to his words. Who knew she’d be this weak to dirty talk?

She swallowed hard as he leaned back, and as her heart thundered against her chest, she finally mustered the courage to reach for him. She felt his body go taut at her first touch, more so when her fingers finally wrapped around him.

As she started to stroke the length of his phallus, he began to murmur instructions in a tight, hoarse tone, teaching her how to pleasure him, telling her to use her other hand to caress his balls. And she did it. Oh God, she loved doing it.

And when it was finally time to pleasure him with her mouth—-

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