“I thought we weren’t going to have a honeymoon,” Harper exclaimed the next day while rushing to keep up with the sheikh’s long-legged stride. “You said you had loads---”

“Of cum to shoot into you?”

Harper gasped and tripped on her feet, and the sheikh laughed as he helped her up, with Harper still looking around them, a fearful expression on her face. There were guards all around them, but they were poker-faced, their expressions giving nothing away. Even so, it still left her mortified, and she turned to the sheikh, hissing, “I can’t believe you said that.”

“I normally don’t say such things,” the sheikh admitted musingly, “but there’s just something about you---”

“That makes you want to be a bully?” Harper snarled sarcastically.

The sheikh blinked. “Why, yes. Now that you’ve mentioned it, that’s exactly why I only like saying such things to you.” His tone was all innocent surprise, but she wasn’t fooled, not with the sly gleam in his dark eyes.

“You twisted---” But they had made it to the tarmac by this time, and she snapped her mouth shut, not wanting the public’s first impression of her to be that of a nagging wife. The staff all bowed in the presence of the sheikh, and when their eyes met hers, they bowed as well, making Harper start.

The sheikh took her hand, his fingers giving hers a gentle squeeze. “In time,” he murmured under his breath, “you will get used to it.”

Harper didn’t think so, but she only nodded, not wanting to make a fuss about it.

As they neared the plane’s elevator, the sheikh surprised Harper when he suddenly bent to sweep her up in his arms.

“Sheikh!”

He smiled. “Just carrying my bride over the threshold.” He stepped inside the elevator, and as soon as the doors closed, he looked at her, and she looked at him---

By the time they made it to the third floor, Harper and the sheikh were caught up in a torrid kiss, and the guards hastily jumped out of their way as the sheikh strode purposefully towards his cabin. He kicked the door shut, and then he was throwing her on the bed, and Harper couldn’t help giggling as he dove right after, his weight landing on top of her body.

“I’ve been thinking of doing this the entire morning,” the sheikh confessed roughly.

“Y-you did?”

His eyes bored down at her. “Are you telling me you haven’t?”

She wanted to lie, but pride forbade her from doing so, and in the end Harper said grudgingly, “I did, too.”

The sheikh’s lips curved. “Then tell me.”

She stiffened.

The sheikh started nibbling on her lips. “Tell me.”

She started to shake her head, but when the sheikh’s mouth moved down her neck, she couldn’t help shivering and moaning.

“Tell me.” His voice was gently coaxing, but his touch was just the delicious sort of rough when he took hold of her abaya –

RIIIIIIP.

“Sheikh!”

But another loud rip followed this, the sheikh systematically tearing her clothes off, leaving her trembling in a delicious mixture of fear and excitement. In the years she had known the sheikh, he had always been cool, calm, and collected, and although she had occasionally glimpsed a disconcerting sense of intensity in his dark gaze, Harper had never thought he could be this…

Beast-like.

The sheikh’s head lifted, immediately sensing the change in Harper. “What is it?”

Without meeting his gaze, she muttered, “I just remembered…” Her voice trailed off, but her fingers unconsciously dug deep into his back, and the sheikh frowned.

“I am your husband now, Harper. It is my duty to solve your problems---”

Despite everything, she couldn’t help smiling a little at this, saying, “I’ve never been the damsel-in-distress type, sheikh.”

“Perhaps not in the past, but you are my damsel now, and so your joy and distress is also mine.”

Oh. It was one of the sweetest things anyone had ever said to her, and Harper’s toes curled involuntarily. But even so, she just couldn’t make herself voice out her worries, and her fingers dug deeper into his back. “It’s silly…”

“It is not, if it bothers you that much.” When he spoke again, the sheikh’s tone was commanding. “Speak to me, malakti.”

Malakti. My queen. It was the first time for the sheikh to call her that, and Harper’s entire body stiffened for one long moment just before it softened against him. She was his queen, she thought dazedly. His queen---

And wasn’t it right for a queen to speak of her troubles to her king?

“It’s that article...”

His lips compressed, the sheikh knowing it could only be one article that Harper was speaking of.

“She said ‘rough sex’ was your specialty.” Her fingers dug into his back again, this time hard enough to make the sheikh wince silently. Her gaze searched his, and her tone became gruff. “I didn’t like that she knew that about you.”

“I see.”

And the way his eyes gleamed, she knew he did see, probably more than she wanted.

“In other words,” the sheikh drawled, “you’re saying you’re jealous.” She started to sputter in protest, but the sheikh paid this no heed, only bending his head down and going back to nibbling her lips. His hands also moved down her body, sweeping over her curves before delving under her ass.

“You are cute when you are jealous, wife,” the sheikh murmured against her lips.

“I’m not jealous,” Harper growled. But the sound was ruined when his fingers suddenly tightened around each cheek of her butt, causing her to jerk against his hard body with a gasp.

“I cannot change the past, but there is one thing I can promise to you alone.”

T-there was?

His mouth moved up, and as his lips touched her ear, the sheikh whispered, “What they know of rough sex is nothing to what I’ll do to you.”

Oooooooh.

The way the sheikh said it was hot as hell, so damn sexy, that by the time the full import of his words sank in – wait a minute, didn’t that mean he would be…rougher with her? – it was too late.

The sheikh had suddenly flipped her on her stomach, his hands roughly pulling her hips up.

Harper’s eyes widened. “Wait!”

But the sheikh didn’t listen, his hand spanking her butt, and the stinging pain shocked her so that Harper let out a whimper.

“Relax, qalifa.”

Harper whimpered again, the sheikh’s purring tone only making her senses riot while her fear and excitement spiraled out of control.

“I will keep my word.” His hands clasped her hips. “I’ll make sure to rip your pussy apart.”

Harper shuddered. “No, I didn’t mean---”

But the sheikh had already thrust in without a single warning, stuffing her pussy with one swift, hard, deep shove. Harper cried out, shock and pleasure mingling in her tone. But it was just the start. The sheikh rammed into her over and over, the force of his thrusts shoving her forward so that she found herself clutching the sheets just to keep her balance, her breasts flattened against the bed.

Fisting her hair, the sheikh pushed his penis all the way in, trying to reach the deepest core of her, and Harper moaned. His thick, throbbing phallus was ripping her pussy apart, and oh, how she loved it.

“Can you take more?” the sheikh growled.

“Yes.” The word came out a sob, Harper already trembling in fearful, excited anticipation of how rougher it could get. A moment later, the sheikh pulled her head back, his mouth capturing hers just as he buried his penis deeper into her. Its swollen head knocked against her womb, and Harper sobbed even as she sucked hungrily on his tongue, utterly lost in the savageness of his lovemaking.

Releasing her mouth, the sheikh bit her shoulder hard, and she cried out.

“Fuck.”

And then the sheikh’s muscular hips were wildly bumping against her, his hands gripping her hair like she was a mare he had pounced on to impregnate, and oh, the image alone made her cry out again.

Over and over, he shoved his penis into her, riding her, destroying her pussy----

“Khaaaaaalil!”

His name came out in a broken sob as a violent orgasm swept her away, and after a few seconds, the sheikh growled as he reached his own release, his free hand going around to grope her breast as he shot his load into her wet, throbbing pussy.

Her orgasm lasted forever, and so did his, the sheikh’s penis twitching as it continued to spurt out his cum. There was so much of it his cum began to leak out, trailing down her legs, and she let out a soft whimper at the realization.

So much cum, Harper thought dazedly.

She felt the sheikh pull out of her, his penis withdrawing with a loud pop, and her cheeks flushed at the sound. A moment later, and he was turning her around –

Harper gaped.

That was not possible.

That just could not be possible.

“How is it you’re still hard?” she half-wailed, half-gasped.

The sheikh smirked. “Are you complaining?”

“YES!”

The sheikh laughed. “Too bad.” His hands clasped her ankles. “Because I plan to keep my word.”

“W-what are---aah!”

The sheikh had suddenly yanked her forward by the ankles, and then he was pulling her legs up in the air and pushing them open.

“Sheeeikh---”

He entered her again, possessing her pussy anew, and Harper’s eyes rolled back.

The sheikh said thickly, “It’s going to be a rough night.”

Oh. My. God.

And so it started once again, the sheikh true to his promise, so much so that by the next day every part of Harper’s body was aching, including the parts that weren’t even supposed to ache. She could barely take a step without wincing, a fact that had the sheikh looking at her with such arrogant satisfaction, she was torn between thumping and kissing him. Why, oh, why did she think it was a good idea to be this man’s wife again?

An official welcoming committee from the royal family of Contini awaited them when they touched down in the country’s airport, and soon they were whisked into the snowy mountains of St. Valentine and ensconced in Queen Wilhemina’s very own chateau, which was easily the most luxurious in the region.

A full itinerary had been prepared for the couple, but in the end, the sheikh and Harper spent the majority of their weeklong vacation locked inside their bedroom, emerging only to grab a quick bite before once again retiring.

To say that the sheikh was insatiable was a vast understatement, and even the word ‘beast’ no longer seemed sufficient. Experience and instinct had made the sheikh masterly skillful in the art of using dominance in the bedroom, with the sheikh knowing exactly how far he could push Harper past her limits without being in danger of abusing her. He knew when to command her and when to worship her, knew when she wanted to be his slut and when she wanted to be his queen.

It was terrifying really, the way the sheikh seemed to know her even better than Harper knew herself. If she could have foreseen this back then, it might have been enough for Harper to run away and never say ‘yes’ to his proposal.

But she hadn’t, and now it was too late.

She was dangerously, foolishly close to falling in love with the sheikh.

* * *

As the sheikh’s private plane encountered turbulence while crossing the Mediterranean Sea, he closed his eyes, and less than a moment had passed before memories, too damn vivid against the monochromatic state of his existence, flashed behind his eyelids.

He remembered how she looked as they waved goodbye to the locals who had gone out of their way to take care of them in the few instances they had managed to leave their room. She had tears in her eyes, her nose red, her lips trembling. The sheikh had asked her about it, of course, and she had snapped at him. I have sensitive eyes, okay? They get easily irritated, is that a crime?

No, he had answered solemnly. What is a crime, however, is lying to your husband and king. He hadn’t let her answer after that, but instead hauled her into his arms as soon as the doors closed and the plane’s elevator started moving.

Are you crying because you’ll miss the place, he had asked.

His wife had hidden her face against the crook of his neck, mumbling, I’m crying because…I’ll miss you. Her fingers had then curled against his chest, gripping the thin cloth of his robe. I’ll miss who you were here.

Her words had clawed at his heart, catching him off guard. He had not expected her to confront the matter head on, but in hindsight he knew he should have. She was simply that kind of girl.

A girl who was as tough as she was fragile, a girl who loved fearlessly even when the men in her life could never be completely hers, a girl who deserved the right words from him---

But the sheikh hadn’t been able to say them.

And so he had only kissed her, and as she kissed him back, she cried, and he had kissed her harder, his arms locking around her sweet body in a futile attempt to absorb her pain. They had made love after that, and it had been rougher than it usually was. Almost savage. Raw. Real.

A storm patch rocked the plane once more, and Harper stirred beside him, her brows furrowing in her sleep. A moment later, she snuggled closer to the sheikh, her body instinctively molding against his hardness. A sigh escaped her, and then her face relaxed as if being in contact with the sheikh was all she needed to feel safe…and loved.

The sheikh was neither blind nor stupid. He had seen – felt – how his Harper had changed. She was different with him now. It used to be that there had always been a distance between them, a part of herself that she kept out of his reach. But that distance was gone now.

He knew what he should do about it. This was a marriage of convenience, and it would not succeed if one of them forgot that. He knew he should remind her of this, subtly or directly – it didn’t matter as long as he made sure that she remembered why they had married.

If he had been an ordinary man, he could make himself forget the lessons his own life taught him. He could lie to himself, make himself believe that love existed and love could last. He could pretend that his mother hadn’t been a selfish bitch who had only given birth to him hoping she could be Ramil’s queen. He could pretend that his grandfather hadn’t been a bigot and a tyrant who treated his half-blood grandchild like trash, could pretend that his father hadn’t been so weak he had chosen a life of comfort over his own son.

If he had been an ordinary man, no risk was too great. He would give her – them – a chance. For Harper, he would take a fucking leap of faith, let himself believe that she would always love him, would never abandon him the way all the people who were supposed to love did.

If he had been an ordinary man, the words Harper wanted to hear would have been hers from the start, and she wouldn’t even have to ask for them.

But he was not an ordinary man. He was a sheikh, and more than that, a king whom millions depended on. His life did not belong to him alone, and the words she wanted to hear must come from both man and king. The man in him could afford to lose his heart, even if she ended up destroying it in the process, but the part of him that wore a crown was not as blessed. The king in him only had the freedom to love a woman willing to cut her own heart out for him and his people – and Khalil wasn’t fucking sure if Harper could ever be that woman.