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If only he could make himself believe her reaction was out of sexual awareness and not because she was suffering from the throes of misplaced guilt and self-reproach.
“Anisah.”
“Yes, Your Highness?” She squared her shoulders as she waited for the sheikh’s next words, telling herself that she would take whatever punishment he deemed appropriate for her show of disrespect.
“Are you on your knees because you intend to apologize with a blowjob?”
WHAT?
Anisah shoved his hand away as she furiously shot up to her feet, crying out “You loathsome—-” She stopped speaking the moment she saw the mocking gleam in the sheikh’s eyes, realizing with a start that the infuriatingly perverse man hadn’t meant it at all, and his next words confirmed as much.
“You’re angry,” Tarif purred in approval. “That’s better. There’s no fun teasing you when you’re acting all meek and mild—-”
“I am meek and mild,” she said defensively.
“And I’m both a saint and a virgin,” the sheikh retorted, laughing at her face. “No, my sweet, what you are is the most troublesome of puritans—-”
“Excuse me?” she half-shrieked. Had he just called her a prude?
“The most luscious of harpies,” the sheikh continued in a voice that hinted of ill-smothered laughter.
“Harpy?” And now he was likening her to a mythical monster?
“Nem, anisdi,” the sheikh actually had the sheer audacity to affirm it. “A harpy pretending to be a tame little dove...” The sheikh’s eyes took on a dangerous gleam. “Which now brings us to my side of the story.”
Before Anisah realized what was happening, the sheikh had already closed in on her like a beast trapping its prey, and she found herself backed against the glass wall, caged in his arms, and his lean, hard length dangerously close to pressing intimately against hers.
Curses!
She had never been this close to any man, and for the sheikh to be the first—-
This would not do!
“Unhand me!”
“Manners, anisdi,” Tarif taunted. “Shouldn’t you have tagged a ‘Your Highness’ at the end to make it proper and all?”
Violet eyes shot wildly furious sparks at the sheikh. “If you do not unhand me, Your Highness, I shall do my best to properly claw your eyes—-”
The sheikh laughed. “See? You, my sweet, are a harpy through and through.”
Anisah no longer bothered to answer. All she cared about now was getting away, and so she did as promised, struggling so she could claw at his face. But no sooner had her arms lifted than the sheikh had her arms imprisoned over her head, and Anisah could’ve screamed. How was it that this infernal man always ended up getting the better of her? How?
“Stop fighting me, anisdi.” His body slammed hard against her a moment later, imprisoning her for good, and as the powerful, muscular weight of him came into contact with her soft, shaking curves, Anisah’s frustration turned into a shameful, hot, moist welling of awareness.
Oh...stars above...no.
NO.
She might be a virgin in every way, but it didn’t mean she was sexually unaware. She knew, oh heaven help her, but she knew exactly what the wetness threatening to spill out of her meant, and she hated it.
How she hated it, knowing that the moist response of her body was because of Tarif Al-Atassi of all people—-
Oh how she hated it, knowing that there also wasn’t a thing she could do to stem her wanton desire for him.
Tarif stared down at his captive: she was panting, her lips slightly parted, her chest heaving hard, and goddammit, but it was the most arousing sight, and he had the most basic urge to shove her robe up her waist and sink his cock deep into her virgin pussy so he could show her that no matter what she did – no matter how she wished otherwise – they wanted the same thing.
They wanted to fuck each other’s brains out.
