Page 40 of Her Arabian King

The sheikh’s head lifted, immediately sensing the change in Harper. “What is it?”

Without meeting his gaze, she muttered, “I just remembered...” Her voice trailed off, but her fingers unconsciously dug deep into his back, and the sheikh frowned.

“I am your husband now, Harper. It is my duty to solve your problems—-”

Despite everything, she couldn’t help smiling a little at this, saying, “I’ve never been the damsel-in-distress type, sheikh.”

“Perhaps not in the past, but you are my damsel now, and so your joy and distress is also mine.”

Oh. It was one of the sweetest things anyone had ever said to her, and Harper’s toes curled involuntarily. But even so, she just couldn’t make herself voice out her worries, and her fingers dug deeper into his back. “It’s silly...”

“It is not, if it bothers you that much.” When he spoke again, the sheikh’s tone was commanding. “Speak to me, malakti.”

Malakti. My queen. It was the first time for the sheikh to call her that, and Harper’s entire body stiffened for one long moment just before it softened against him. She was his queen, she thought dazedly. His queen—-

And wasn’t it right for a queen to speak of her troubles to her king?

“It’s that article...”

His lips compressed, the sheikh knowing it could only be one article that Harper was speaking of.

“She said ‘rough sex’ was your specialty.” Her fingers dug into his back again, this time hard enough to make the sheikh wince silently. Her gaze searched his, and her tone became gruff. “I didn’t like that she knew that about you.”

“I see.”

And the way his eyes gleamed, she knew he did see, probably more than she wanted.

“In other words,” the sheikh drawled, “you’re saying you’re jealous.” She started to sputter in protest, but the sheikh paid this no heed, only bending his head down and going back to nibbling her lips. His hands also moved down her body, sweeping over her curves before delving under her ass.

“You are cute when you are jealous, wife,” the sheikh murmured against her lips.

“I’m not jealous,” Harper growled. But the sound was ruined when his fingers suddenly tightened around each cheek of her butt, causing her to jerk against his hard body with a gasp.

“I cannot change the past, but there is one thing I can promise to you alone.”

T-there was?

His mouth moved up, and as his lips touched her ear, the sheikh whispered, “What they know of rough sex is nothing to what I’ll do to you.”

Oooooooh.

The way the sheikh said it was hot as hell, so damn sexy, that by the time the full import of his words sank in – wait a minute, didn’t that mean he would be...rougher with her? – it was too late.

The sheikh had suddenly flipped her on her stomach, his hands roughly pulling her hips up.

Harper’s eyes widened. “Wait!”

But the sheikh didn’t listen, his hand spanking her butt, and the stinging pain shocked her so that Harper let out a whimper.

“Relax, qalifa.”

Harper whimpered again, the sheikh’s purring tone only making her senses riot while her fear and excitement spiraled out of control.

“I will keep my word.” His hands clasped her hips. “I’ll make sure to rip your pussy apart.”

Harper shuddered. “No, I didn’t mean—-”

But the sheikh had already thrust in without a single warning, stuffing her pussy with one swift, hard, deep shove. Harper cried out, shock and pleasure mingling in her tone. But it was just the start. The sheikh rammed into her over and over, the force of his thrusts shoving her forward so that she found herself clutching the sheets just to keep her balance, her breasts flattened against the bed.

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