The Sheikh’s Wife Arrangement (The Safar Sheikhs 1)

Except this time, there was no mistaking what came next.

“Calla,” he breathed, dragging a thumb over the crease of her pussy. The lacy scrap of fabric between her legs was drenched. Which told him a truth that she hadn’t yet uttered with her lips. She whimpered again. “Be honest. How long have you wanted this?”

Her chest heaved as he swirled his fingers back and forth over her panties. He knocked his thumb over the stiff peak of her clit.

“Since the day I met you?” She laughed weakly. The admission made his cock twitch.

“Yeah.” His other hand found the hem of her dress and skipped a trail up along her thigh. Until both hands swirled at her lacey panties. “Me too.”

Her breath hitched, and he tugged her panties down. There were plenty of ways he wanted to have her, but for their first time, on this first night, he wanted her in this dress.

Just like this.

8

Calla couldn’t tell if she was dreaming. Like maybe she’d blacked out sometime during the reception and this whole king-between-her-legs thing was just a champagne-induced wet dream.

Except the rustling of the beadwork as Fatim pushed her dress up to her hips—that seemed very real. And the cold blast of air once he whipped her panties off like he’d been doing it his entire life—also very real.

It was too early to tell. She should just keep going.

“How long have you been wanting to take this dress off me?” she asked, face burning the moment she asked the question. Sexing the king was one thing. Being bold in the sex tent was quite another.

“Since the second I saw you in it.” His warm lips skipped a trail up her thigh, pausing at the crease where her pussy met leg. “But I told you. I’ll keep the dress safe. I want you in the dress.”

His words zipped hot and incredulous through her. The man’s voice alone could push her to her limit. But knowing that he desired her, had been secretly wanting her since she started working for him, was such a turn-on she thought she might come from his teasing alone.

He ran a hand over her bare pussy, that dark gaze sweeping down to take in her nakedness. Everything prickled under his attention. She bit at her bottom lip—thank God she’d thought to shave in advance of her sham wedding.

“I can accommodate that,” she whispered, wiggling her hips as he nuzzled the crease of her pussy. “But by all means, feel free to undress. You must be so hot in here with all this on.” She tugged at his robe.

Fatim smirked and took a step back, causing a cool draft to whoosh past her. Her body lamented the absence of him. He made quick work of the large wooden buttons holding his robe together. It crumpled to the floor around him, revealing simple, black shirt and slacks. He stepped out of the pants, then tore the linen shirt over his head. When he stood before her again, all he had on was a pair of white boxer briefs, which looked so yummy against his caramel skin tone she wanted to take a bite of him.

“Much better,” she whispered, gobbling up the view as if he might slip his clothes back on at any second. Dark chest hair was clipped short and tight to the body, dotting all the way down his six-pack abs. So this was what training with the troops got him. She reached for him, but he shook his head slowly, resuming his position between her legs.

“What are you—” she began, but he shushed her, surging forward. Her thoughts dissolved once his warm lips met the one place on her body dying for attention. All the air whooshed out of her body, and she melted back into the bed. Fatim’s strong hands cupped her ass cheeks. And thank God, because she felt like she might float away. A heavenly rhythm emerged as his tongue pushed and prodded at her swollen, aching clit.

Fatim massaged the tops of her thighs as he licked her, then one of his hands ventured between her legs and suddenly he pressed a finger inside her. Gently. Inquiring. She hissed, her legs spreading wider. Yes, she needed more of this. So much more. Fatim grunted from between her legs, working his thick middle finger in and out of her slowly. His finger and his tongue were a match made in Heaven. Add onto it the fact that he was the world’s sexiest man, not to mention a king, and suddenly Calla was spilling over the edge head first.

Her whole body shook with the surprise orgasm, and her first thought was embarrassment. She wasn’t supposed to come so fast. But the king rested his chin against her thigh, looking amused, his lips shiny from her arousal. There was no sexier sight on Earth. She stammered, but no words came out.

“That was fast,” he remarked.

She jerked her head into a nod.

“I can promise I’ll last a little longer,” he said with a wink as he stood, revealing the massive tenting of his boxer briefs. Her mouth parted as he shoved his underwear down, which caused his cock to bob heavy in front of him. The cockhead bulged purply and fat, veins popping out the base. It was the most gorgeous thing she’d ever seen. When she reached for him this time, he allowed it.

“Mmmm.” His gaze fell to her hand as she sat up and caressed the length of him, gently at first but then with more confidence as the king responded. His eyes went hooded, little grunts escaping him as she fisted him and ran a finger under the fat ridge of his cockhead.

“Be honest,” she whispered past dry lips. “Where’s the one place you wish I could suck your dick?”

The question felt so naughty that her face burned, but she didn’t regret it. Even less when Fatim’s gaze turned into pure desire.

“When you’re down on your knees,” he said, his voice gritty, “measuring my pants, looking up at me with those kitten eyes.”

Her heart hammered in her chest at his confession. So he had been thinking the same thing all along. This felt like a personal victory somehow, though she wasn’t sure why.

“Well then.” She pumped her fist up and down his shaft, loving the way his eyes fluttered shut as she jacked him off. “Next time I come in for a fitting, you know what to expect.”