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And I find myself repeating it feverishly in my mind as the sheikh's rough, callused hands curve around the cheeks of my ass.
Just a dream, Seven.
Just a dream.
His fingers tighten around my bottom, and I see his gaze turn possessive when he hears me catch my breath.
Just...a...aaaaaaaaaah!
His dark head bends as he runs his tongue slowly down my slit, and I can only moan as my entire body melts at the feel of his mouth on my quivering flesh.
Sheikh Saif has what he wanted.
He's finally has his taste of me, and I could never have imagined a pleasure such as this. His tongue moves up and down the drenched, swollen flesh of my folds, and all I can do is helplessly alternate between moans and whimpers.
Every stroke of his tongue is like a mini explosion between my legs, and the sound his tongue makes, oh God...
It's the most sinfully lewd sound, and I just know I'll remember it for the rest of my life.
Pressure starts to build from within me when his hands leave my bottom, and another desperate little gasp breaks out of my throat as I feel his fingers carefully part my folds wide open...and wider...and wider until I'm all stretched out.
"S-Sheikh..."
The word comes out of nowhere, and I'm immediately aghast and bewildered, terrified and mortified. This is supposed to be a punishment, so why did I—-
"Sheeeeeeeeikh!"
I end up crying it out this time, with his tongue stabbing my pussy, and oh God, oh God, oh God—-
As his tongue thrusts in and out of my folds, I find myself blindly reaching for the lush ebony locks of his hair—-
"Sheikh, oh God, sheikh—-"
My fingers tighten its grip as his tongue seems to reach deeper and deeper inside of me. I feel like I'm about to implode, and oh God, oh God, oh God—-
It happens in a blink, the pleasure so intense that my body would have crumbled to the floor if not for the sheikh still gripping my thighs, and I find myself helplessly cumming in his mouth.
This...is just a dream.
Just a dream, Seven.
It's nothing but a dream.
My orgasm lasts so much longer than I'm capable of withstanding, and by the time the tremors begin to fade, everything feels like a blur.
How can so much wetness come out of me?
Maybe, this is really a dream?
The sheikh sweeps me up in his arms and gently lowers me to a couch. I know I should take this chance to leave, but I just sit there like a fool, and all I do is blink when the sheikh comes back with a washcloth.
He crouches down, and a blush steals over me from head to toe when he starts to clean me up.
"Don't—"
"Quiet."
The words whip out like a royal command, and I actually find myself shutting up even as every sweep of the cloth over my flesh makes me want to writhe.What the hell is wrong with me?
