by Marian Tee
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.
Chapter Twelve
The weeks following their return to the kingdom were frenetic, not only for the sheikh but Ramil’s new queen as well. Aside from her ongoing lessons with the court tutor, Harper was now expected and made to appear in various functions as a bona fide member of the royal family. In a few instances, she would be accompanied by one of the sheikh’s cousins: Altair for military affairs, Tarif where foreign dignitaries are concerned, Rayyan during economic conferences, and Malik when addressing the scientific and educational sectors. More often than not, however, it was just Harper facing the public while her security triumvirate stood in stoic vigilance from backstage, and it was during these instances that Harper would experience the greatest trouble.
Court members who had treated her with the utmost courtesy would then show their true colors whenever they chanced upon Harper minus the company of one of the sheikhs. They would arrive late for meetings, snigger at her botched accent when she spoke Rami, and loudly uttered snide remarks the moment she turned her back.
For the most part, Harper was able to shrug this off, thinking it wasn’t that much different from her high school days. Her bodyguards, however, were a different matter. As the sheikh had promised, the AFK had become accustomed to her cranky ways and was now very much protective of their queen. These days, the three didn’t hesitate at all in speaking their mind with her, and most of it involved reprimanding Harper for being too nice.
It is not right for a queen to be so accommodating of everyone’s wishes, Your Majesty.
You must assert yourself more, Your Majesty – remind them that such disrespectful treatment is punishable by our laws.
Our king must be made aware of these transgressions. Protecting such foul creatures will only encourage them to continue with their shameful ways.
To all of these Harper only nodded, with a large part of her believing the AFK was simply making a huge fuss out of nothing. It was only to be expected that the most traditional members of the sheikh’s government would treat her with scorn and suspicion. She was a foreigner, and even worse – she was neither an extremely rich or drop-dead gorgeous foreigner. In the eyes of most people, she was a woman completely undeserving of the sheikh, where her only good point was her filial relation with one of the kingdom’s present-day heroes.
But other than that, she brought nothing to the table. Harper knew this, accepted this, and it was why she was determined to earn the trust and respect of the sheikh’s officials on her own. No matter what it took, she would be the kind of queen the kingdom of Ramil could be proud of and maybe – just maybe – the sheikh would stop avoiding Harper like she had become his greatest mistake.
Even without the sheikh saying a word, Harper knew that something had changed between them. Ever since their return from Contini, the sheikh had noticeably cooled towards her, but every time she would attempt to ask him what was wrong or talk about what was bothering would him, the sheikh would only gaze at her with polite interest. And then he would lie—-
There is nothing wrong.
I’m merely busy.
You must be imagining things.
And if the lies weren’t enough, he would simply shut her up by making love to her. He would literally fuck her to exhaustion, and by the time she woke up, it was morning, and he was gone, his day always starting earlier than hers.
The first week, Harper had let it go, thinking that perhaps in time the sheikh would confide in her. But when his subtle cold-shoulder treatment continued, she had found herself frustrated, which in turn eventually led to Harper flying into a rage.
Stop with the bullshit! Are you a coward? Just tell me what’s wrong!
A part of her had been appalled at her words, but the other half of her was desperately hoping that they would be the key to unlocking his indifference. But instead, the opposite happened. The sheikh had walked out on her and slept elsewhere in the palace. When they had met for breakfast the next day, he didn’t tell her where he had slept, and she had been too proud to ask. When night fell, Harper lay in the dark, her eyes stinging, her heart shriveled.
What did she do if he still didn’t come?
What should she do?
What could she do?
The questions tormented her, and its answers only came to her just when she was about to lose all hope. It was past midnight when the door to their chamber quietly opened and the sheikh had entered. She had held her breath, watching him undress in the shadows, and when he had joined her in bed—-
She had not even hesitated, hadn’t even tried to think of what she was doing.
Harper had simply rolled towards him, and it was as if the sheikh had already known what she’d do, with his powerful arms immediately closing around her like he had only been waiting for her to come home.
She had started to speak, but he hadn’t let her, instead capturing her mouth with his while his fingers ripped her clothes away. She had gasped in surprise, but passion soon swept her away, and she willingly gave herself up to his touch. Their lovemaking was fast and furious, silent and rough. It was as wonderful as it had always been, maybe even more so after spending one night apart, and when he had come inside of her, his powerful body shuddering above hers, it really had felt like they were okay.
And she would have believed they were okay, had wanted so dreadfully to believe that – if not for the tears that had silently tracked down her cheeks.
In the shelter of the sheikh’s arms, her despair swallowed by the darkness of their chamber, Harper had prayed with all her heart. One day, one day, let him be proud of her. Let him notice what she was doing. Let him...love her.
Her heart whispered this every night, not knowing that it was asking something that God had already granted.
CONTRARY TO HARPER’S knowledge, the sheikh did know what she had been up to the past few weeks. The sheikh knew every little thing she did, was aware of every slight done to her, and had committed the name of every individual who had dared treat his queen with anything less than the utmost respect to memory. Moreover, he was not alone in such observations, with his cousins reporting to him in separate occasions about the disturbing rumors that had reached their offices. The issue had even grown so that in one of his closed-door meetings with the other sheikhs, Altair had again brought up the topic, asking in his typical take-action fashion about the Emir Sheikh’s plans for addressing the situation.
“It is not the proper time for me to interfere,” Khalil answered calmly. “There are things she must do on her own or she can never be the queen that the kingdom needs.”
Tarif shook his head, murmuring, “You are a surprisingly hard man, brother.”
The sheikh didn’t deny this, saying mildly, “It is a requisite for the job.”
“Tongues have been wagging atrociously, too,” Rayyan pointed out, “and it does nothing for our own economy when people believe the king’s marriage is less than idyllic.”
Tarif smirked. “I knew you’d somehow find a way to link this to financial matters.”
In a perfect imitation of the Emir Sheikh’s tone, the blue-eyed sheikh deadpanned, “It is a requisite for the job.”
“Airafi,” Khalil said pleasantly. Fuck you.
The other men laughed, but it was not enough for the tension in the meeting room to abate completely. All of them knew from firsthand experi
ence that rumors could be as viciously sharp as poisoned swords, with the power to turn people away for good.
“Would you at least like any of us to interfere for you?” Malik asked finally.
Khalil shook his head. “The rumors will naturally die down once it becomes clear that I will never be in the market for a second wife. But as for the rest – it must be allowed to run its own course.” The sheikh’s tone was cold and flat, but despite what his seeming indifference suggested, he – more than anyone in this kingdom – was counting on Harper to realize her destiny. And she would. She must. The sheikh refused to entertain any other alternative. He would have no other woman in this lifetime. Only his Harper would do, but for this to happen, Harper had to find a way to show the world what he had always seen in her.
A woman, despite her commoner’s blood, who was born to be queen.
So prove me right, malakti, the sheikh thought fiercely.
Chapter Thirteen
It was the weekend of the sheikh’s birthday, an occasion that also served as the first official event that Harper would be hosting as his wife. As he was a man who already had everything, she had thought long and hard on what to give him before eventually deciding that an exemplary performance as his queen was the best gift she could give him.
For this she had woken up early – earlier even than the sheikh, which startled and momentarily gave her pause. It had been a long time since she had glimpsed his sleeping face, and she couldn’t help staring.
Perfect, she couldn’t help thinking. He was so, so perfect in every way that a man could be, and the thought twisted her heart so because she knew she was still worlds away from being his equal. Whenever she spent time with his people, stories of hero worship were inevitable, and at first she had been skeptical, wondering if the people were only saying such things of the sheikh because they wanted to get on her good side. But as the stories only piled up, and they were always consistent in how they portrayed the Emir Sheikh, Harper had taken it upon herself to verify the truth on her own.
And what she discovered only made her love him more.
Here was a man who had used his personal fortune for the rehabilitation of injured Ramilian soldiers and offered monetary aid to grieving widows and orphaned children. And when he had learned of his grandfather refusing to offer basic healthcare to his people purely out of avarice, Khalil had once again dug into his own pockets to set up non-profit hospitals that offered free medical care. And all of this, he did despite King Hasim publicly branding him a bastard who’d never inherit the throne.
On the day Harper had married the sheikh, she had foolishly thought she was only marrying a man who happened to wear a crown. Now, she knew how wrong she was. She had married a man whose entire life had been selflessly devoted to Ramil – a man whom everyone believed would one day go down as one of history’s greatest kings.
Even now, it remained a daunting thought, a grave reminder of the monumental task that lay ahead of her, and as she continued to study the sheikh’s sleeping profile in silence, Harper gnawed on her lip worriedly. Could she ever measure up to him?
Yes. No. Of course. Never.
It was rare for her to be indecisive, and it frustrated Harper so. Releasing a sigh of frustration, she turned away and was about to stand up when fingers suddenly locked around her wrist, hauling her back—-
Harper tumbled back into the bed, falling against the sheikh’s powerful chest with a gasp. “You’re awake!”
“You were staring at me too hard.”
Her face reddened. “I was not!”
But the sheikh only smiled, his gaze all-too-knowing making her squirm. She tried tugging her hand out of his hold, mumbling, “I should go.”
“At three in the morning?”
“I feel guilty enough that I went to bed when most of the staff insisted on working overnight.”
“Don’t be. We all have our own duties, qalifa.” He reached up suddenly, and she started in surprise when he ran his fingers slowly over her forehead. “This party appears to be stressing you unnecessarily.”
“It’s not—-”
The sheikh’s fingers trailed down her neck, reaching the neckline of her silk nightgown. “You should relax.”
“I don’t have the time—-” Her voice died as the sheikh pulled the fabric down until her breasts popped free.
He cupped one breast, and she automatically leaned closer, closer and closer until the pink, pouting tip brushed against his lips. His mouth opened, his tongue flicking against her nipple, and Harper whimpered, her toes curling hard at the throbbing sensation.
“Still no time to relax?” the sheikh purred.
“Actually,” she managed to say, “I think I have lots of time.”
The sheikh smirked. “I thought you’d say that.” And then he grabbed her by the hair, pulling her down, and his mouth covered hers. She moaned at his kiss, and when he flipped them around the next moment, she moaned again as his heavy weight pressed down on hers and his huge and already hard phallus pulsated powerfully against her folds.
Harper writhed restlessly as he squeezed her breasts, pinched and bit her nipples before moving down, sucking hard on her clit. Her legs went around his neck, her fingers driving through his dark hair, and just when she was about to come his mouth lifted—-
“Khalil!”
He laughed at her frustrated tone, but he still pulled away and started everything all over again as he rose on his knees, pulled her legs up to his waist, and impaled his wife with one stroke. Harper screamed, his penis reaching all the way deep inside of her, and then she was gasping and panting, his hips moving forcefully as he impaled her over and over, his balls slapping against her aching, swelling pussy.
“Oh God, oh God, please.”
“Do you want me to fuck you harder?” the sheikh gritted out.
Harper moaned. “Y-yes.”
“Then say it. Say you want me to fuck you hard.” His fingers dug deep into the plump cheeks of her ass. “Say it.”
A sob tore out of her throat, and she choked, “Please fuck me hard.”
And he did.
He fucked her hard, so damn hard she could have sworn the room had started to spin, so damn hard it was like his phallus was tearing her pussy apart, and oh God, she loved it. She loved, loved the way it hurt, and when he started to grind his penis harder into her, his hips alternatively circling to make his phallus bump against the walls of her pussy—-
Her eyes rolled back, her breath caught, and her body tensed.
“Khalil—-”
The sheikh responded by reaching between their bodies as he withdrew his phallus. When he thrust back into her, he also slipped one finger inside of her, ensuring that every inch of her was stuffed –
Her pussy stretched open, her pleasure rocketed out of control, and Harper came apart with a scream.
She sobbed as she came, the strength of her release making her body heavy and pliant as the sheikh plunged into her over and over, fucking her with both his penis and his finger, fast and hard, until after another moment he, too, reached his release, the sheikh letting out a harsh growl as he shot his cum into her.
Later, much, much later, the sheikh carried his wife into the palace’s private Turkish bath, which was connected to his suite with a secret passageway. She was unnaturally silent, and she was clinging to him rather than resisting his touch like usual, and when he looked down at her, the first thing he saw was the fear that flickered in her eyes.
As they slipped into the water, he made her straddle him, and his lips slightly curved when she blushed at the way her breasts bobbed gently between their bodies.
“Why can’t we just shower the way normal people do,” she muttered, arms crossing over her chest.
“Because I’m a king?” She grunted in response, amusing him, but even so he didn’t forget what he had glimpsed in her gaze, and slowly, he murmured her name.
“Harper.”
Oh, shit. She knew that soft, coaxi
ng voice of his, and she did her best to resist it, teeth sinking hard into her lower lip. But then he reached for her, winding a lock of her hair around his finger, and it was all she could do not to mewl.
Her hair unwound from his finger, and then he was clasping her cheek—-
His gentle, protective warmth was impossible to ignore, and before she knew it, she was already rubbing her face against his hand like a kitten begging for its master’s affection.
Damn sheikh. Damn sheikh. Damn sheikh.
But even so, she couldn’t help enjoying his touch.
“I have something to ask of you, malakti, and I need you to answer me honestly.”
And there it was, she thought. An order he’d leave her no choice but to obey—-
The sheikh cupped her chin. “What are you afraid of?”
Oh. It stunned her that he would notice her fears, and she couldn’t help hedging, muttering, “It’s unimportant.”
“Allow me to be the judge of that, qalifa.”
“But it’s really silly—-”
“Harper.” His voice was still soft, but underlying it was a note of command. “Speak of your trouble.”
“Oh, fine.” She knew she was being ungracious about it, but she didn’t care. “I’m just worried I’d end up embarrassing you this weekend.”
Silence.
And Harper felt hurt. “You think the same thing, too, don’t you?’
“No.”
“Ha!”
He shook his head. “Do you truly believe I could be so easily embarrassed?”
Her mouth opened and closed.
“Would you like me to do something about your fears? Would you like me to slay dragons for you?”
Harper didn’t know what to say. The simple, easy way out would have been to answer ‘yes’ – but did she really want that?
“Tell me, wife. What do you truly wish to achieve?”
