Page 80 of Tall, Royal Hater
I shattered on a broken cry, gasping as all the threads in my belly tore apart, jolting warm, spiralling sensation all through my middle. I squeezed my eyes shut, clinging on to every blissful second of it.
When it subsided, I pulled the toy out and turned it off. I took a moment to catch my breath, readying myself, then lazily, without a care, pushed up onto my elbows.
The sight before me was annoyingly delicious.
Shehryar fumed a few feet away from the end of the bed, cheeks washed with colour, a blaze in his glaring eyes. His hair was wet and pushed back off his face, there was a white towel wrapped tightly around his sturdy waist, and water trickled down his hairy, muscular forelegs below.
It had never been some secret that Shehryar was big and brawny but seeing him near-naked for the first time reiterated it in a way that made my pussy ache like I hadn’t just come.
His skin was golden and warm against the white of the towel, his shoulders wide and curved with muscle, his chest and pecs defined and painted with a decent matting of brown hairs a shade or two lighter than the hair on his head—I’d always liked hair on a man’s torso. His flat nipples were a dark brown, and a trail of hair ran down the central line of his chest, between rock-solid abs, around his belly button before thickening and disappearing under the towel. And the V on his hips was something else entirely, cut out of marble and so stupidly lick-able.
He had the body of a Viking plunderer who could throw a woman over his shoulder and steal her away, kicking and screaming, while carrying a weighted chest of treasure under his other arm.
I was no fucking damsel about to be stolen away, but fuck me, I could appreciate a mouthwatering body when I saw one. Especially one with the distinct tent of an erection in his towel.
What surprised me though were the two tattoos.
That would’ve been the last thing I’d have expected from the stern, all work Shehryar Timur I knew. But there was a patterned band around the very top of his right arm, and his left pec was detailed with a similar pattern but with more elements around it.
“What the fuck are you doing?”
His growled words snapped my eyes away from their appreciative perusal. His narrow stare darted between my wet cunt, the toy lying next to me, and my face.
“Oops,” I said, playing sweet, sarcastic, and stupid. “You weren’t meant to see that.”
“Mariyah,” he rumbled, and the threat pasted across the back of my neck. Oh, he was pissed, but he was aroused too, and I quite enjoyed that combination on him.Serves him right, idiot.
I picked up the sticky toy and lube in one hand. “Can we pretend you didn’t see that?” I pushed to the edge of the bed, and I was pretty sure I rubbed my arousal on the duvet, but I liked the idea of him having to look at an aggravating reminder of what he’d missed out on.
“You know,” I added, standing up, and the T-shirt slipped back down. “Kind of like how you pretended you knew what you were doing when you thought you could deny me.”
Smoke puffed out of his nostrils as they flared. His hands balled to fists by his sides, his fingers moving restlessly, but he stayed mute and immobile as I approached him.
“But I’ll be nice and leave you a souvenir.” I lifted my hand, and his eyes dropped to the black boy shorts I held in it. “Something just for you, hmm.”
I stopped right in front of him, close enough for his erection to brush my lower belly.
He glared down. I smiled up…
And tucked my underwear into the top on his towel, maybe giving it a testing tug too.
“Night, Sheri,” I purred, letting my hand skim his hard-on as I dropped it.
With a flick of my hair, I turned and headed to the door.
It was unnatural how quietly and quickly he moved when he wanted to. No doubt it was down to his training in the Army, butit was fucking inconvenient when I was trying to make a damned exit.
I didn’t get my triumphant exit. I didn’t evenreachsaid exit.
The satisfied swing in my hips only lasted five or six steps before his hand clamped around the back of my neck, tangling through my hair. I gasped as he dragged me away from the door. I heard a faint click, maybe the lock on the handle, behind me.
“Shehryar,” I barked, as he walked me all the way to his bed.
He shoved me as my knees hit the mattress, and I tumbled forward. I let the toy and lube fall from my grasp to catch myself on my hands and quickly snapped my hair out of my face to glare back at him.
“What the fuck?” I spat. But when I registered the ominous amusement in his sneer and the bright, swallowing gleam in his eyes, a foreboding prickle puckered my skin with goosebumps.
“You”—a chuckle mingled in his growling timbre—“are in so much fucking trouble. You little impatient menace.” I flipped onto my elbows, keeping my scowl stubborn, as he kneeled on the bed. “You just couldn’t wait, could you?”
