Page 119 of Tall, Royal Hater
But he caught my hands and swiped them out from under me, yanking them over my head. “Try,” he mocked as he deftly wrapped my T-shirt around my wrists.
This again? Fuck, yes.
Uh, you mean, no!
“Shehryar.” I squirmed aggressively, lust, hatred, excitement, and mortification throwing alternative punches at each other inside me. But the harder I wriggled, the wider his smirk grew, and his hands worked quicker, tying my wrists as easily as if I wasn’t fighting him at all.
“You asshole! Fucking maniac. Dickhead. Untie me now. I’m going to rip your balls off and shove them up your nostrils.” I threw angry insult after insult, bucking under him. “Get off me!”
He chuckled a cruel, aroused sound that sunk right to my pulsing sex. And then his hands went to his belt, and my struggles weakened warily. I stilled when I noticed the bulge of his erection.Fuck, he was enjoying this.I gulped as the buckle clinked apart in his hands.
He ripped the leather from his trousers, and my brain flashedstruggle, bitch, struggle.
But it was no use. He slipped the leather between my wrists and wrapped it around the fabric tying my hands. I tipped my head back and watched him buckle the belt around one of the rungs in the headboard. He gave it a testing tug. Satisfied it wasn’t going to come undone, he climbed off me.
I gaped as he dragged a horny, heavy-lidded gaze up and down my very exposed body. Each spot he stopped at sparked and twitched as if he were pawing me, stifling the capacity of my lungs.
He dragged his teeth across his bottom lip before his eyes lifted to mine, and I swore, I felt it so acutely against my pussy I nearly whimpered. “Don’t move,” he purred. “And don’t struggle. Because if I come back and find out you’ve hurt yourself, I will beat your ass until you’re sobbing.”
He gave me his back and headed to the ensuite. Before going in, he glanced over his shoulder. “The door’s unlocked by the way.” A smirk stretched across his lips as he arched a brow. “So, unless you want someone to find you tied up, waiting to be fucked by your Daddy—don’t make a noise.”
The door slammed shut behind him.
I blinked. And blinked…and blinked.
Did he…did he just leave me here, fucking tied up, while he uses my shower?
My body went up in red-hot, tingling flames.
“Shehryar fucking Timur! I’m gonna shove your dick up your own fucking asshole!”
My threat was empty bullshit.
Because the only one who had any dick shoved in them was me.
Chapter 29
Mariyah
Shehryar carted me through his thorough aftercare routine again, and it was still the most bewildering experience having him wipe me down, then transport me in his arms to empty my bladder.
He carried me back from the bathroom too and set me down on the mattress. I glared at him when he picked up my T-shirt and gathered it in his hands to help me put it on, but he seemed so content with doing the task that the idea he might’ve been babying me died promptly. Once I was dressed, I dragged mylegs onto the mattress and scooted back with a pillow up against the headboard.
While Shehryar had given me privacy to pee, he’d dragged on his boxers and dragged off my duvet. He picked it up where it lay on the floor by the velvet chaise and said, “Drink some water.”
Between taking big gulps from a glass bottle, I watched a rumple-haired Shehryar strip the cover off my duvet, find a new one from the wardrobe, and put it on. Aside from the annoying fact that he wasn’t huffing and puffing from the full-body workout that was changing bedding, it was odd watching him do such a domestic task, and for me on top of that. Like last night and this morning, the back of my neck prickled with intrigued caution at his completely relaxed and focused demeanour. I couldn’t bring myself to look away, even though recent experience warned me he probably wasn’t as oblivious to my scrutiny as he appeared.
“You’re staring. Again.”
Not oblivious at all.
With a blush rising through my cheeks, I clutched the cool bottle against my stomach and thought of something to say that wasn’t outright denial—no point when he’d caught me multiple times already. That was when the ink on his skin caught my attention. “What’s with the same pattern tattoos?”
He laid down the newly covered duvet and spread it over the mattress. “It’s what my grandfather designed for me when I was born,” he said, lifting my legs up to tuck the duvet under them.
“Designed for you? Why?” I squinted, trying to get a good look while he moved around the bed.
The band on his arm had one thorned plant-like vine sitting between a one-inch black stripe and a plaited pattern above with some of the sections filled in in a faded way. The one that covered his left pec was the same, but it was enveloped top and bottom in a series of waving swirls.
