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Holding his gaze, she dropped to her knees, her eyes huge in her face. “Will you tell me?” She darted her tongue out and ran it over his tip, a thrill of strength bursting through her as she felt him tremble.

“Sophia,” he moved a little, stepping back slightly, but she shuffled forward, her hands curling around the base of his arousal, holding him where he was.

“And I want you to say my name,” she warned, her eyes sparking with his, as she opened her mouth wide enough to take his tip into her moistness.

He swore, his body rigid.

She took him deeper, slowly, letting herself get used to this new feeling, to this different kind of invasion. She moved her mouth up and down his length, challenging herself with how deep she could take him each time, until finally his tip hitched against the back of her throat and he groaned low and harsh.

His fingers found her hair, curling in its blonde lengths, the pressure gentle but incredibly arousing. She rolled her hips, desire sparking inside of her as she tasted a drop of his come in her mouth.

He swore, the sound so intensely hot, and then his hands were beneath her arms, lifting her, pulling her away from him, and he cradled her against his chest as he carried her back to bed.

“This damned dress,” he grunted, pushing the skirts up around her waist, his eyes showing impatience that made her laugh, despite her own needs being just as desperate.

“I didn’t want to go naked through the corridors,” she pointed out, but then his hands pushed her legs apart, wide and strong, and he thrust into her, so speech and thought became utterly impossible as pleasure seared her.

She arched her back, and he made a noise of impatience, one hand lifting to the top of her dress and pulling it. The dress tore.

She barely noticed. His hand cupped her breasts and then his mouth came down on her nipple, his tongue lashing her in time with each thrust, and then his teeth clamping on the engorged flesh until she was moaning his name over and over – no need to be asked this time.

“Malik,” she arched her back, pushing her hips up, taking him deeper and he drove into her as he moved his mouth to her other breast and she writhed beneath him, lost to this utterly and completely. “I need…”

“I know,” he reached up, his fingers curling into her hair, holding her head still as he took completely possession of her body and finally, she exploded, a burst of stars on the outside of her mind as pleasure contorted her being.

She closed her eyes, her body flooded with sensations, her mind u

nable to think of anything outside of this. She lay beneath him, his weight a pleasure, his closeness a godsend, and she simply felt.

She felt everything.

And then, he shifted out of her, moving to his side of the bed. “Go back to sleep, sharafaha. It is still dark out.”

She frowned, following his gaze to the window. It was dark, but there was a glow on the very edges of the horizon. Soon, morning would come, and there’d be light again, because light always followed the dark.

Chapter 8

SHE WOKE TO THE ringing of the phone and an empty bed. Pushing up, squinting, Sophia focused her gaze on the clock across the room. It was still early. Seven something.

She blinked, turning to the phone, reaching for the receiver on autopilot.

“Yeah, hello?”

Rapid fire Abu Fayan greeted her. “His highness is required immediately. Please ask him to come to the State rooms in the East wing.”

She frowned as the line went dead, replacing the receiver and pushing out of bed in one movement. She padded across the room, naked, and peered into the lounge area of the suite. Empty.

The bathroom was also empty. The kitchen likewise.

With a frown, she moved towards the balcony and it was here that she saw him.

Naked from the waist up, wearing only a pair of black briefs that showed his powerful trunk-like legs, tapered waist and muscular shoulders, her brow beaded with fine perspiration.

Why did she love his hair so much? He seemed to habitually pull it up into a very messy bun, himself, undoubtedly for comfort. But there was something so hot about that, about the way it sat there all dark and straining against confinement.

He turned, his eyes latching to hers, and Sophia’s breath snagged in her throat at the fact he’d caught her unashamedly staring.

“You’re awake.”


Tags: Clare Connelly Billionaire Romance