“Why are you here, anyway?” I finally made myself ask. “I thought we had an agreement.”

“And the agreement still stands,” he acknowledged. “I’m here to enjoy breakfast with you.”

I could only grunt, thinking that his words sounded a little too plausible. Once an asshole, always an asshole, right?

When I reached the kitchen island, I was about to lift myself up on one of the bar stools when something caught my eye.

Those bagels…

My mouth immediately started watering.

They were from my favorite deli, and—-

Wait a minute.

How did he know…

My head shot up, and the sheikh, seeing the suspicion in my gaze, said easily, “I told you, have I not? My security team was quite thorough in compiling their report about you.”

“Stalker.”

But the sheikh only smiled and patted his lap. “Come and sit.”

My lip curled. “You wish—-”

Shit!

The sheikh’s reflexes were just too damn fast, and the next thing I knew I was already seated on his lap, and his fingers were gripping my hair hard. Not enough to hurt, but tight enough for there to be no possible escape without hurting myself.

“We had an agreement—-”

“There is nothing to be worried about,” the sheikh crooned. “All I want is a little kiss—-”

“I don’t want—-”

“Sssh.” He pulled my head farther back, and I fought to keep still, unwilling to show any kind of weakness. But then I felt his lips slowly trail down my neck, and memories flashed in my mind, almost as if they were taunting me to remember how good it felt, to have his mouth sucking on my pulse…

I felt the feather-soft slide of his tongue as he licked the side of my neck, and my fists clenched on my lap.

“You remember, don’t you?” the sheikh whispered. “How it felt…”

Yes, yes, yes.

I couldn’t say the words out loud, but oh God, I did remember, and I wanted to feel it again. So, so badly that just the thought of it was making me feel like I was burning up—-

Aaaaaah.

His mouth latched on to my neck without warning, and oh God, this time there was nothing slow, gentle, or gradual about it. He simply started sucking hard, so damn hard that I could no longer keep myself from crying out.

I felt his hands reach for mine, forcing them to unclench so that our fingers could twine with each other, and somehow, holding on to him, feeling his fingers tightly grip mine, just made things more punishingly sweet, and I couldn’t help arching my neck back to give him more access.

How the fuck was this possible, that with just his mouth on my neck, he nearly had me delirious with pleasure, and I knew I was just one stroke away from cumming?

And when I felt a bulge starting to grow under my ass…

Oh God.

I tried to keep still, but it was impossible.

The hard, throbbing length of it was impossible to resist, and I slowly found myself grinding my ass against it—-

I heard the sheikh growl as his cock found its sweet spot, thrusting forward and back between the cheeks of my denim-clad ass, and something inside of me started spiraling out of control. My mind shut down, and lust took over as I started rubbing myself harder and faster against him while his mouth on my neck continued to work its hungry magic.

Any second now, oh God, any second now, and fuuuuuuuuuuuuck…

I convulsed in his arms, my eyes squeezing shut in helpless surrender as wetness gushed out of me.

So good.

Why was it so good with this jerk?

Why?

But the answers eluded me, and as the shudders started fading, I heard the sheikh say, “Keep these panties on. I want you to stay wet and thinking of me for the rest of the day.”

Welcome back, Anonymous.

Thank you for contacting our helpline. You asked “Do panties with feminine discharge after sex stink?”, and our experts say that under normal circumstances feminine discharge after sex does not emit any strong, noticeable, or undesirable odor. If you do notice otherwise, this may be indicative of vaginal infection, and it is recommended that you consult your gynecologist about this.

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Chapter Ten

This was insane. Just fucking insane. I did my best to concentrate on Professor L.’s lecture, but it was impossible. The words she had written on the board might as well be in Kanji, and everything she was saying out loud might as well be in Kiswashili.

All I could think about – and had been able to think about for the past ninety minutes – was my fucking panties, and how fucking wet they still were, because of how the sheikh had made me fucking cum, just by having his cock slide forward and back between the cheeks of my ass.


Tags: Marian Tee Romance
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