Page 16 of Filthy Hot Prince

Khalid

Ilet out a sharp exhale, my body clenching with need and pleasure. I watched with half-lidded eyes as my hand stroked the velvety skin of my cock, moving it back and forth with firm pressure. Warm palettes of water pattered across my broad shoulders, the muscles on my body tensing with pure lust.

The deltoids of my muscular back moved when I leaned on the tile across me, squeezing my eyes shut. Instantly, my mind flashed with images of the stunning red-haired woman who had captured my mind, body and soul within one meeting.

Valeria Dunne.

“Valeria,” I groaned out, my husky voice echoing in the empty bathroom.

In my mind, I hadn’t been a gentleman and walked her home.No, I had captured her soft palm on my thigh and trailed it upwards. To make her feel how fuckinghardher one touch had made me. She would gasp as I would use her hand to stroke myself over my pants, the friction causing me to groan her name and embrace her lips in a heated kiss.

There would be no one but us in the backseat of my car, kissing and touching each other’s bodies and fucking.

Lots of fucking.

I imagined how beautiful she would look spread out beneath me. All bare and flushed for me. Whimpering and moaning and clutching my shoulders when I thrust inside her tight pussy again and again. Oh, how wonderful her moans would sound against my ears. How her warm walls would clench me.

I came with a long moan, hissing her name as I released thick spurts of seed in the shower. With a sharp exhale, I leaned back on the cold tiles, swallowing the lump in my throat.

I was truly going mad. Over a woman, nonetheless. Zayed would definitely make fun of me if I ever told him.

My muscles relaxed, my mind still floating with the filthy fantasies I had for Valeria. Guilt washed over me and I cleaned myself quickly, getting out of the shower and angrily wearing some clothes to hide my nudity.

I felt sick. Ashamed. Guilty. I shouldn’t have, but I did. Valeria was six years younger than me and even though our age didn’t matter, she seemed innocent. Far too innocent. She didn’t know that I killed my own father without any remorse. And I would do it again if I had to.

She was better off without me.

Then why did I feel the need to be with her? Why did the ache of her absence cause a hollowness in my heart? Most of all,why did she seem so familiar?

* * *

My car smelt like roses,my driver driving the car while I checked the map to the address Benjamin had given me after much reluctance. After the morning shower, I had gone to see Valeria, but she wasn’t at her home when I had knocked at eleven in the morning with a bouquet of roses in my hands. Benjamin had opened the door with a smile and asked if the flowers were for him.

He wishes.

Benjamin told me that Valeria was volunteering for the day at the foster care he and his wife, Mabel—who was a sweet, plum lady and not at all like Benjamin—had started. After asking him for the address, I had left Valeria’s beautiful house in search of her.

So she was a self-made millionaire, beautiful like an angel, supported charities and volunteered in a foster house.

Each day, I discovered something new about Valeria, who was slowly turning into my muse.

After reaching the foster house, I took the bouquet of roses with me and looked over a whitewashed building. Few of the people stared at me when I entered through the gate. I was used to the looks because of my tall height, my skin tone and my face.

I had an aquiline pointed nose, stern face with a chiseled jaw and sharp cheekbones. My dark brows and hooded onyx eyes made me look intimidating. Even Zain had commented that I looked more like a Sultan of Azmia than he ever did.

But I always denied it. Looks didn’t matter. Looksnevermatter. It was the inside that mattered, and mine was rotted with dark memories and past sins.

I stopped in the hallway, looking around for the cozy feeling the house gave of. The smiling photographs of children and babies made me smile. It made me remember how I used to visit foster homes with my mother as a child. How happy it made me to spend that time with her, watching her treat others with kindness. The scent of roses and freshly cut grass.

Why was I here? What was I doing here? What was my purpose in knowing more about Valeria Dunne when I had to be in my country?

I let out a sigh, raking my hand through my hair. I shouldn’t have come chasing her at the foster care. I knew it from the first moment I saw her. Valeria was nothing like me. She reminded me of all the good things in my life.

And why I didn’t deserve any of it.

I was about to drop the roses in a nearby empty vase and leave when I heard the commotion from the backyard. The loud, cheerful laughter of the familiar soft lilting voice.

I couldn’t help myself but follow the sound, and I was glad that I did.

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