My eyes flew open, and I couldn’t help but stare as I watched color stain the sheikh’s high-boned cheeks as he started to cum inside of me.
“I love you.”
I just had to say it all of a sudden, and when I saw his eyes blaze, I just knew—-
He could pretend all he wanted, but this time I was sure of it.
That flash of emotion in his eyes.
It really was just the fucking L-word, and I heard myself whisper, “Tell me.”
“Tell me you love me, too.”
A shudder rocked the sheikh’s powerful frame.
“Shut up and let me concentrate—-”
“Then tell me what I want to hear—-” The rest of my words disappeared under his kiss, with the sheikh suddenly fisting my hair and yanking my head back as his mouth crushed mine.
“Shut the fuck up,” he grated out against my lips, “and stay still.”
In complete defiance of his command, I deliberately squeezed his cock with my inner muscles instead and was rewarded with the sound of his harsh groan.
“Then say it,” I coaxed. “Just say—-”
I cried out when he suddenly bit my lip. “That hurt!”
“It’s going to hurt even more,” he warned, “if you don’t do as I say. You need to just shut up and don’t move a fucking muscle because right now…” His fingers clamped around my waist, and a moment later I felt him surge up inside of me to release one last powerful wad of cum. “The heir of the Crown Prince of Najma—-”
I stared at him, stunned.
“—-is about to be conceived inside his mama’s womb.”
The last secret, I thought dazedly, and the sheikh’s way of saying—-
I was different.
Not just because he loved me back.
But because he trusted me, too.
Verification of Pregnancy Test
This is to officially confirm that the pregnancy test taken by Ms. Story Teller in our clinic has registered a positive result. Please feel free to contact us for any inquiries or concerns.
“How about we name her Ella,” I asked mischievously two weeks later, “in honor of her future godmother?”
Raj actually blanched at the suggestion, and it had me laughing so hard that the other couples in the waiting room started looking at me like I was crazy.
In the past few days, he had been opening up more and more about his life – voluntarily, too, mind you – and one of the first things he shared with me was how he had grown up alongside another crown prince.
Khal, he told me, was his best friend. The guy was the thoroughly disciplined sort and was everything a prince was supposed to be…until a year or so ago, and Khal had ended up marrying Ella, a rather “rebellious” American girl who – in Raj’s private opinion – was an even bigger headache than I had been. From almost the onset of her royal life, Ella had set countless tongues wagging with the way she unknowingly violated court rules and almost got herself engaged with yet another crown prince. She had also gotten herself nearly kidnapped, nearly mauled to death by vicious dogs, and the list – according to a faintly disapproving Raj – just went on and on and on.
She is good for Khal and loves him truly, Raj had reluctantly opined, but I would definitely not want any daughter of mine to take after her.
Remembering this made me grin, and when the sheikh raised a brow in askance, I said innocently, “I was just thinking of more baby names.”
“Not Ella,” he rejected right away.
“No, of course not,” I answered obediently. Or at least, it wouldn’t be the kiddo’s first name, but he hadn’t said anything about second names, had he?
Once outside the clinic, the sheikh motioned me to stand behind him and used his large powerful frame to shield me from the harsh sunlight. A pair of pregnant women on their way inside saw this and let out rather dreamy sighs…right after glaring at me like I didn’t even deserve to kiss the sheikh’s feet.
They probably thought I was spoiled rotten, the way I seemed to take the sheikh’s “devotion” for granted, but honestly that wasn’t the case at all. The sheikh’s ridiculously overprotective gestures secretly had my toes curling each and every time, and while Raj might not have said the actual words, these little gestures of his spoke volumes. Even my own OB had remarked at how “devoted” he was to my well-being, with the way he had asked a gazillion detailed questions about my pregnancy.
And under normal circumstances, I would’ve gushed in agreement.
Instead, I told my doctor she was most assuredly wrong, and that the sheikh was nothing but an incurable asshole under his tall, dark, and handsome guise. I had to, you see. If I let this piece of sheikh realized how happy and cherished he made me feel, I’d bet my life Raj would start being perverse. Like, push-me-out-into-the-storm-and-hog-the-umbrella-to-himself kind of perverse, and since that would just be unnecessarily annoying, I think it was better this way.