Total pages in book: 51
Estimated words: 48620 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 243(@200wpm)___ 194(@250wpm)___ 162(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 48620 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 243(@200wpm)___ 194(@250wpm)___ 162(@300wpm)
As the dinner was hosted in one of the palace’s smaller dining rooms – there were eight of them, last she knew – the table could only host a “modest” twenty. Howard was given a seat on the king’s left, but when she started to take the chair on Howard’s other side, the steward shook his head with a smile. “You are given the other seat of honor as Mr. Griffith’s daughter, anisdi.”
She mustered a smile purely for the sake of the proudly beaming steward. “Yay.” Not. Damn sheikh.
Five minutes to seven, the table’s guests were all seated, and at exactly seven in the evening the Emir Sheikh and his cabinet of vassals entered the room. Everyone was quick to rise to their feet in the sheikhs’ presence, Harper included. Whatever she felt about him, it wasn’t a valid excuse to disrespect the other sheikhs or Ramil’s culture in general.
“Thank you for joining us,” Khalil murmured, “in celebrating once again this kingdom’s living hero, Mr. Howard Griffiths.” His tone was soft and sibilant, without a single trace of the American accent he had used to speak with.
Per protocol, the customary exchange of greetings followed, and once this was done, Khalil turned to Harper.
Don’t react, she warned herself just as their eyes met—-
His dark gaze glittered with fire and lust.
Shit.
And she found herself ignoring her own warning as her body melted under her abaya.
Khalil pulled out a chair for her, being a gentleman before a sheikh, and he waited until she was seated before he, too, claimed his position at the head of the table. The other sheikhs followed, then her father as the guest of honor, followed by the remaining individuals.
Women were glaring at her once again, Harper thought, sensing their jealousy and anger even though she kept her gaze trained on her plate. Oh, well. What was new?
Servants started to file in, laying down the first course for the night, and the conversation swirling around her grew in noise as the guests were continuously plied with delicious food and wine. Once in a while, she could feel the sheikh’s gaze drifting towards her, but she ignored it determinedly and spent the evening talking to Malik, whom she got along with fairly well.
If looks could kill, Harper thought, she would probably have died ten times by now. But whatever. She was an American citizen, not a subject of Ramil, and she was damned—-
A hot touch claimed her knee, and Harper choked on the water she was sipping.
Oh my God!
The fingers on her knee squeezed, and her worst suspicions were confirmed just as her stomach turned over.
Beside her, Malik asked, “Are you alright?”
“Uh huh.” She nodded jerkily, and waited only for Malik to turn away to speak with his older brother before immediately looking the other side—-
Oh!
Harper almost fell out of her chair at finding the king leaning so close towards her that she had almost bumped her face into his. He smirked at her obvious surprise, and she would’ve glared at him if not for Howard’s grim gaze narrowing on her from across the table.
Her teeth gnashed. Dad, seriously, you’re supposed to be on my side!
“You seem to be enjoying yourself with my cousin.”
Lifting her chin, she made herself smile sweetly, saying, “I’ve always enjoyed talking to Malik.” Unlike with you, were her silently implied words after.
His eyes glinted possessively, but the sheikh’s tone remained soft and silky as he said, “Just as long you remember you belong to me.”
The words had her heart skipping a beat even as Harper’s mind warned her that this was one rabbit hole she did not want to tumble into. If you let him think he has hold over you, it would be so forever, stupid!
And so Harper opened her mouth to tell him he had to have his head examined if he really believed she belonged to him-—
But no words came out.
For his fingers on her knee had gone under the slit of her rather modern abaya, drifting past the short skirt of her dress, and going all the way up until they rested directly on top of her silk-covered pussy.
As dish after dish was served, Harper focused on methodically finishing her food and cleaning her plate. Not once did she look up, and on the few times either Malik or Howard tried to start a conversation, she mumbled incoherently, keeping her gaze on her plate. Better they thought her rude than let either of them see how hot her face was.
And it would probably stay hot all the way until dessert, with the way Khalil kept moving his fingers over her silk panties, now made moist by her need.
Damn sheikh.
Every tortuously slow stroke spoke of his expertise and experience, and his fingers would only lift and grant her a respite just when she was dangerously close to coming. It was as if he knew every pulse of her body like it was an instrument he had played for years – or maybe the sheikh simply understood a woman’s pleasure like he knew the back of his hand, because he had fucked that many of her sex.