Total pages in book: 22
Estimated words: 22608 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 113(@200wpm)___ 90(@250wpm)___ 75(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 22608 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 113(@200wpm)___ 90(@250wpm)___ 75(@300wpm)
Just coming and coming and coming.
Epilogue
IT'S BEEN A WEEK SINCE I moved to Zahir's place, and I'm still not used to life as a sheikh's wife. Each day is just crazier and more wonderful than the last one, and honestly?
I wouldn't trade it for the world, and it's all because of him.
"Did you really think you'd escape me, habibti?"
Busted.
"I...um..."
"You know this had to happen sooner or later," my sheikh purrs as he joins me in the shower.
"Then I choose la—-"
Zahir obviously disagrees since he's already reaching for the shower controls as he backs me against the wall.
Water blasts down on our naked bodies as he reaches for a sponge, and all I can do is whimper as he slowly starts soaping my body.
"S-Stop..."
My protests sound halfhearted even to my ears, and I also end up contradicting myself when my body arches the moment he starts kneading my breast with his free hand.
Since Zahir is nothing but thorough, he makes sure to give my other breast the same attention before moving lower and lower—-
No!
I push his hand away and beg him to leave that part alone, but of course, he doesn't.
"I have to clean it, Alysse. That's the part that's always the dirtiest..."
I'm gasping and choking back a laugh at the same time.
Did Kivr's most respected war hero just crack a—-
Zahir suddenly pulls me off the wall and turns us both the other way.
OH.
I finally understand why he recently had a full-length mirror installed in the en-suite, and I'm now suffering reaping its full benefit with our reflection staring back at us.
"Z-Zahir."
Wickedness gleams in his eyes as he reaches between my legs, and my knees fold completely as he starts stroking my quivering flesh with his sponge.
Over and over and over.
Until I'm sobbing and begging him to end the torture.
But this only makes him move his hand faster and faster, and it's only because he's still holding me against his powerful body that I haven't yet crumbled.
"P-Please..."
"As you wish, wife."
But instead of letting me go, he thrusts into me without warning, and with so much force that I end up bending from the waist down, and aaaah.
Every thrust hits me just right.
Every thrust drives me wild.
But what has me spiraling out of control is when he whispers into my ear—-
"I love you, Alysse."
I shatter at those words, and as soon as I sob the words back to him, my husband is right behind me, his hips pumping hard against me over and over as he fills me with my seed.
ZAHIR INSISTS ON DRIVING me to school after our, um, shower, and I don't know whether to laugh or cry as he also insists on walking me to class. I honestly understand his concern, and I know I'm still not completely safe until El Diablo's trial comes to an end, but...isn't this a little too much, considering how he already has undercover bodyguards following me everywhere?
"I'll see you later, habibti."
He kisses my forehead before walking away, and I'm pretty sure I'm not the only one silently sighing as I watch him walk away.
How can anyone be so, so perfect?
All eyes are on me as I get to my seat, and their gazes are freakishly admiring. I never had any trouble blending in the background while dating Jamieson. But now?
I'm still inordinately fond of sweats, but they can apparently pass as "fashionable" depending on the price tag they come with. I'm still a college student with an ordinate fondness for fantasy novels based on Alice's Adventures in Wonderland—-but I've also organically gained a social media following of sorts since people think of me as a modern-day Alysse while Zahir is my Sheikh of Hearts.
It's strangely, embarrassing, and somewhat funny all at the same time, but I also can't help smiling every time Zahir's friends rib him over it—-
"Hear ye, hear ye, citizens of the University of Christopoulos."
The voice coming from the PA system distracts me from my thoughts. It's Leandro Christopoulos, the Greek billionaire who owns the university, and I'm not sure why he's talking like someone from the Middle Ages?
"In gratitude and recognition of the sizable donation from certain noblemen of the Kingdom of Kivr who wish to remain anonymous—-"
Oh no.
"All students are invited to the Grand Hall this afternoon. Extra credits shall be rewarded to those who may suddenly feel faint-headed in the presence of the Sheikh of Hearts. Printed evidence is required and must be submitted to your professors. Let all who attend don their finest Wonderland array, befitting the splendor of His Sexiness' court."
He snickers as he says this, and I'm hard pressed not to smile as well when the people around me start to laugh.
"So let it be proclaimed and celebrated. Your royal herald for the day is now signing off."
ZAHIR IS SWIFT TO PICK up that something's amiss when he sees everyone dressed like they're cosplaying for, well, Wonderland. And when I take him to the Grand Hall, and he sees how its walls and ceiling are adorned with fresh red roses, and all around us are staff dressed like playing cards—-