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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, hislittle 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.
****
