by Sophia Lynn
“I love you,” he said, wonder in his voice. “I love you. You've made me a father, and I love you, and I will always love you, and our son.”
“Nothing but love,” she promised him through her tears. “Today. Tomorrow. For always.”
THE END
CLICK HERE
to subscribe to my newsletter & get EXCLUSIVE updates on all offers, secret previews, and new releases!
PREVIEW: YOU MAY ALSO LIKE…
Prologue
Neve
The music room on the third floor of the women’s wing never failed to overwhelm Neve with its opulence. The beauty of the instruments, especially the piano, which would be premiere concert quality even at Carnegie Hall, wowed her every time she stepped into the room. She’d learned to play from a friend of her abuela’s on an old rickety piano in the basement of the local church, even though at first she’d hated the lessons. She could still play a few things, mostly hymns, but she did a mean Moonlight Sonata even now. The other instruments, the carved flutes and the stringed trapezoid (still unsure what that even did), were all lovingly maintained. They were also undoubtedly of the same quality as the piano.
Sitting down, Neve started to play, something she’d always loved to do when she’d helped out at Mass as a teen. She’d made it to the third chorus when her husband, King Mikhail al-Amin of Iraine, slipped in through the doors and locked them behind him. Neve arched her neck and smirked back at him, but she didn’t miss a beat as she finished the final verse of the song.
It was a thrill, meeting like this. They’d been married for several months, but there were still customs and rules, even in the palace. Maybe especially in the palace, and the women’s wing was for women only. It was improper under both Iraine’s laws and Islamic tradition for any man— even the monarch— to be among them here. It made a tryst mid-day when she was nominally trying to entertain herself without him, and when he was supposed to be doing work with Parliament, more exciting. The thought they might be seen thrilled her a bit. After all, Khadijeh, the head of the staff on this side, was kind but stern, and being caught was unthinkable.
Even before Mikhail had done more than take off his long, flowing white tunic, Neve was already throbbing with need.
“You know, you’re a bit late,” she said, finally winding down her song and enjoying the view of his abs and firm, swarthy arms.
Mikhail shrugged and only someone as good at observing behavior as she was would have noticed the slight hitch in his right shoulder.
“Well, we have some oil negotiations going on with your home country. I must say not only do I find the current president far less astute than his predecessor, but he rarely keeps to time frames agreed to.”
“American politicians are shifty bastards? Say it ain’t so.”
She stepped away from the piano. Dear God, the power he had over her. Neve could already feel how wet she was, as well as how desperate for him. She strode over to Mikhail and placed her hands on his chest, letting her fingers explore the hard muscle there, the firm planes of his abdomen and eventually trace the lines and strength of his shoulders and biceps. Tall, dark, and handsome were cliches, but they clearly existed for a reason. From his dark, slightly tousled hair to his bottomless, rich brown eyes and high cheekbones, Mikhail was truly something to behold.
Maybe she could have lived without the height difference. Neve was many things— resourceful probably chief among them, or maybe impatient, she could admit that— but tall she wasn’t. And when she wanted to just kiss him forever, the difference between her so-called height and his 6’3 was obvious.
“Hey,” she said, draping her arms as best she could around his neck. “I was wondering what you were planning to play in here, Your Benevolence.”
He smirked and bent down to finally kiss her, his tongue skillfully tracing over her own, his lips soft and inviting against hers as well. Then, he broke away to answer: “If you want a concert, my consort, then I might indulge you. In my youth, I was decent at the Chang. It’s the one that looks like a harp. My tutors were never blown away by my efforts. I confess my brother Amir was always the musician. His skill at the piano is, alas, unmatched.”
Neve rolled her eyes at the mention of Amir. He was one in-law she’d definitely didn’t want to dwell on. The dick. “Well, I was thinking there was something better you could do with your fingers,” she practically purred, her voice trying to promise Mikhail everything he could ever have wanted.
Mikhail smirked again. “Oh, do tell.”
She kissed him again and then made her way down the strong line of his jaw and then to his long neck where she spent extra time teasing and leaving hickies at the pulse point of his throat. With every move she made, Mikhail clearly became more interested. His erection pushed tightly against her belly, and he groaned with every flick of her tongue.
“So,” she said, pulling away from him and slipping off her own top, making short work of unclasping and removing the bra underneath. “Do you feel like playing me instead?”
As Mikhail nodded, something downright feral lit up his expression. In a few whirlwind moments, Neve found herself pressed against the piano and, soon enough, resettled by Mikhail’s strong arms to sit atop it.
He leaned down over her, and it always struck Neve how not just eager he was for her but how he could look at her like she was the most precious thing he’d ever seen. Neve’s eyes burned, and she blinked back tears. It was stupid. They were married, and even if the reasons were more political than anything else, they enjoyed each other’s company. They were good together. Neve wanted to believe that she deserved this, that her crazy, difficult life had earned the love and adoration of this man before her.
She knew better.
But she forced that part of her— the part that knew some day all of this would blow up in her face— to stay quiet and let Mikhail, let the king before her, keep worshiping her body.
And worship he did. He’d made his way to her breasts, and while he was not quite playing her as one might a harp, his fingers remained lithe and determined as his mouth made itself just as busy. His tongue swirled around her right nipple, tempting and teasing her, even as one of his hands kneaded and fondled the other breast. Neve threw back her head, her riot of dark hair falling behind her and halfway down her back. She moaned and even mewled before him, totally abandoning any feigned dignity she had left.
Screw dignity.
When Mikhail flicked his tongue rapidly like that over the taut peak of her nipples, she’d make any and every animal noise just to keep him going. Any woman would.
Mikhail kept his mouth and one hand focused on her breasts, but with the other, he traced his fingers slowly and lovingly down her torso. She bucked her hips against him, the fire rising through her core, as his talented musician’s fingers stroked the area around her belly button. In and out, an echo of what she hoped he’d be doing soon to her pussy.
“This tender love and affection is great, Mik,” she said, between breathy gasps. “But I need you, please,” she said, putting her own hands around his and pulling him under the waistband of her pants. “Please,” she begged again.
Mikhail pulled away from her breast just long enough to regard her with a dark, fathomless gaze. Again, part of Neve felt like a fraud, like she couldn’t possibly deserve the love and affection of a man like this. She shoved that away as hard as she could.
“You could have hung all the stars and the moon itself,” he said.
She chuckled because no matter what else she felt, and yes, guilt was part of that, Neve had never been some goddess. Hell, growing up with all her brothers, she’d always seen herself as just one of the guys. It was flattering how her husband saw her. Awe-inspiring, but it wasn’t her.
She kissed his swollen lips and laughed again. “Great lines, Casanova, but you don’t have to butter me up. Trust me, you’re gonna score big.”
He spoke again when they broke the kiss. “Trust me, my consort, I know exactly what
I’m saying. There were so many princesses and royal women my mother pushed me toward before she died, so many so-called ‘suitable matches,’ who lacked any of your beauty and your fire.”
She swallowed hard.
I’m not a fraud, she told herself. This is… This is everything.
Neve forced herself not to fold or to let things become too serious, to let her doubts weigh down on her heart. “I bet you say that to all the girls.”
Dark eyes regarded her solemnly. “I promise you, Neve, I never have and never would. You’re special.”
He emphasized his point by moving his hand under her waistband and then stroking her soft curls. Desperate, Neve arched her hips against his hand and mewled again. Mikhail didn’t seem capable of waiting any longer, and as he stared at her with his intense gaze, he traced his fingers delicately over her labia and then slid one thick finger inside of her.
“Dear me, how wet you are,” he said.
She nodded and didn’t dare look away from his eager gaze. “That’s what you do to me.”
Mikhail smiled, a genuine expression, and it lacked the bravado of some of the lovers she’d had. Honestly, Neve had a track record for bad boys and assholes. She’d always been with men who were good in bed but, alas, also knew it and lorded it over her. Mikhail seemed not to realize what a catch he was, and everything about him was beyond sincere, beyond loving. Again, it was overwhelming to think, however it had happened, that someone as normal as she was, and just, well, basic, had landed him in her life at all.
She didn’t dwell on it, as a second finger joined the first, and Mikhail pressed his thumb tightly against her clit. It felt like pure heat, like sparks were shooting up her from her core, warming her body and making her limbs tingle.
“Fuck yes,” she said.
Mikhail nodded and never looked away from her, that look of pure adoration and wonder so plain on his face. “Should I go harder now?” he asked, teasing her with just the slightest hints of pressure against her most sensitive bundle of nerves.
His fingers were pumping in and out of her but, so far, only at a languorous pace.
Neve moaned and with one free hand, stroked his face, the stubble there tickling her palm. “If you don’t go harder, I’ll never sneak off to the music room again. Don’t just tease.”
Mikhail nodded and then the talking between them stopped altogether. He thrust his fingers inside of her in an increasingly intense rhythm, and Neve could feel her inner walls spasming around him, urging him onwards to an even faster and deeper plumbing of her depths. His thumb was circling her clit skillfully and the fire— the heat— only rose in intensity through her body, making her shake in his embrace.
Finally, Mikhail added a third finger to his efforts, and that was all she could take.
It was like fireworks exploding in her, lighting every nerve and every inch of her skin in an intense light. She came then, spasming fully around his hand, and screaming his name. Neve couldn’t help it, and she desperately hoped none of the maids were near the music room then because even the soundproof walls might have strained to contain her ecstasy.
Not that she cared about scandals or rules.
But she knew that Mik did, that he could only be but so improper in the palace as so many expectations were on him.
When she finished, Neve felt truly boneless. She barely registered Mikhail picking her up and settling her on the plush woven carpet on the floor, or propping her up with silken, brilliantly colored pillows.
She yawned as he lay beside her, cradling her with his left arm to his chest. “I feel bad. I should… Give me a few minutes. I’ll get to you too.” Neve emphasized her point by rubbing her palm against his erection through the thin cotton of Mikhail’s pants.
Mikhail chuckled warmly and kissed her forehead. “All in due time, Neve. Believe me, it was so very satisfying pleasing you… Hearing you scream my name and quite a few colorful curses. Spanish, I assume?”
“Probably. It’s a quirk, you know. Thrills of being bilingual.”
He kissed her lips and then rested back against the pillows himself. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you, Guinevere Rivas, but I thank Allah every day that you came into my life.”
That cold chill slithered up Neve’s spine again, along with certain knowledge this all had an end date she couldn’t control. But she shook that off as she did every time they’d been together during the past few months. It didn’t matter yet.
What mattered was now— this moment— and what was real between them.
“I care so very much about you,” Mikhail said, before yawning a little. In no time, the great King of Iraine was snoring lightly beside her.
Neve sighed and kissed his lips delicately, trying not to rouse him. “And I love you, Mik. I just… I know that this can’t last. Nothing good ever does for me. After all, you deserve a real princess, and not just some American. I wish I could be that for you.”
But that was surely something she could never be, and so the timer on their trysts was running down. And taking Neve’s hope along with it.
Read the full story:
Sheikh’s Captive Virgin