Chapter 29
Mariyah
S hehryar carted me through his thorough aftercare routine again, and it was still the most bewildering experience having him wipe me down, then transport me in his arms to empty my bladder.
He carried me back from the bathroom too and set me down on the mattress. I glared at him when he picked up my T-shirt and gathered it in his hands to help me put it on, but he seemed so content with doing the task that the idea he might’ve been babying me died promptly. Once I was dressed, I dragged my legs onto the mattress and scooted back with a pillow up against the headboard.
While Shehryar had given me privacy to pee, he’d dragged on his boxers and dragged off my duvet. He picked it up where it lay on the floor by the velvet chaise and said, “Drink some water.”
Between taking big gulps from a glass bottle, I watched a rumple-haired Shehryar strip the cover off my duvet, find a new one from the wardrobe, and put it on. Aside from the annoying fact that he wasn’t huffing and puffing from the full-body workout that was changing bedding, it was odd watching him do such a domestic task, and for me on top of that. Like last night and this morning, the back of my neck prickled with intrigued caution at his completely relaxed and focused demeanour. I couldn’t bring myself to look away, even though recent experience warned me he probably wasn’t as oblivious to my scrutiny as he appeared.
“You’re staring. Again.”
Not oblivious at all.
With a blush rising through my cheeks, I clutched the cool bottle against my stomach and thought of something to say that wasn’t outright denial—no point when he’d caught me multiple times already. That was when the ink on his skin caught my attention. “What’s with the same pattern tattoos?”
He laid down the newly covered duvet and spread it over the mattress. “It’s what my grandfather designed for me when I was born,” he said, lifting my legs up to tuck the duvet under them.
“Designed for you? Why?” I squinted, trying to get a good look while he moved around the bed.
The band on his arm had one thorned plant-like vine sitting between a one-inch black stripe and a plaited pattern above with some of the sections filled in in a faded way. The one that covered his left pec was the same, but it was enveloped top and bottom in a series of waving swirls.
“Mum’s family is originally from the Region of Rustam in southwestern Jahandar. When a child is born, the custom is for someone in the family, usually a grandparent, to design a pattern and have it stitched into a blanket, or sometimes baby clothes, as a gift.” He walked towards the vanity in the corner where a massive, out-of-place bottle of lotion sat. “I had mine tattooed while I was in the Special Brigade. The band is only part of the pattern. The one on my chest is the full design.”
“I didn’t know your family was from southwestern Jahandar,” I said as he came towards the bed with the lotion in one hand. “I assumed you’d always lived in the royal capital.”
“We’ve never talked about our families,” he replied matter-of-factly.
It wasn’t as if we didn’t know about each other’s families—with Esmeralda being the common denominator, we’d stayed at one point or another with my family and his mum. Mainly because other than arguing, we didn’t actually talk, but we especially didn’t bring up family.
Except for that one time I cussed you out about your dad.
I bit down on my lip. I still felt guilty about that. More so, knowing who he’d been to see earlier. But I wasn’t going to apologise for it. Not when he hadn’t apologised for what he’d said to me.
“Move your legs.”
I moved them closer to my chest, though Shehryar still practically sat on top of my feet. With his muscled back slumped in a relaxed hunch, he hooked my ankles over his folded thighs. My toes twitched as his leg hairs tickled my skin, and I was suddenly reminded by a rush of cool air that I had no underwear on. But I sat silent and wary as he pumped out some lotion on his hands and began massaging it into one of my calves.
“You’re irritatingly meticulous with this,” I muttered, my upper lip curling.
“I already explained to you why.”
“Maybe just chill with the whole dominant, gonna-break-you-in-half beast act instead.” I shrugged.
His brows lifted in amusement. “I didn’t hear any complaints while I made you come multiple times.” I flushed pink and glared. His lips quirked proudly as he lowered his attention to his hands. “And I’m not always so dominant.”
I grunted. “What do you mean? You’re the biggest control freak I’ve ever met.”
“I’m not,” he said, rubbing gently around a hickey above my knee. “I can hand over control too.”
“Bullshit.”
He looked me right in the eyes. “I can.” He was being serious. “I’m not going to let someone lock my dick up or shove something up my ass. But if a woman wants me on my knees, begging—I can do that. I prefer being dominant, but there’s a different kind of pleasure in being submissive.”
My jaw collapsed into my lap. “You’re lying.”
No way was bossy-arse Shehryar Timur a switch.
“I’m not.”
“Prove it.”
His eyes danced under the challenge. “If I prove it, you’re going to end up on your back with your legs in the air, coming again and again until you don’t know day from night while I beg you to let me come on your face. Do you really want that right now?”
Mentally? Yes. The image had my core throbbing. Physically? My clit whimpered in fear at the thought of taking another five or six orgasms.
We fell into silence as he massaged my thigh, then moved onto my other leg. But I couldn’t get the possibility of hulking Shehryar on his knees, hands tied behind his back, face flushed as he whimpered and begged me to let him come out of my head. Fuck…that was hot…
It wasn’t until he moved to my right arm that he broke our silence. “Did Esmeralda tell you why I didn’t go to the castle with you today?”
It took a few blinks for my drooling, horny thoughts to fade away so I could process his question. And honestly, he caught me by surprise bringing up the forbidden topic.
I was silent for a second too long. “What makes you say that?”
“You haven’t asked where I was.”
I grunted. “Yeah, because you assumed I care. Which I don’t. Hence why I haven’t asked.”
And you didn’t tell me yourself. Dickhead.
He lifted his chin. “No. I hadn’t assumed you cared. I assumed so because I know what you and Esmeralda are like. I know she would have told you because you two tell each other everything.” A wide smirk spread across his lips. “But it’s good to know that you cared about my absence.”
His arrogant statement torched the skin off my face. But I hadn’t cared. I’d just… noticed . Been curious about it. Truthfully though, maybe the lines had blurred between the three, because explaining them apart didn’t seem possible.
“You fucking wish,” I said, enunciating each word slowly, but my tone lacked any venom. “The only thing I cared about was not having to deal with your irritating ass.”
He arched a brow, smugness dancing in his eyes. “Is that why you’re always looking at my ass?”
I narrowed my eyes, my cheeks stinging hotter. “Says the guy who groped my ass in public and rubbed his dick against it like a horny teenager.”
Wicked amusement danced through his stare. “And yet you enjoyed it even though you were angry.”
“Now who’s making assumptions?”
He widened his eyes. “So, you weren’t angry?”
I gaped. I couldn’t help it. He was winding me up and it was working. I was growing irritated and embarrassed. But at the same time, there was something thrilling about the bubbling, twisting feeling he was repeatedly stirring in me, which was…new. Ish. Maybe…
I clapped my lips together and smiled sarcastically as I brought one knee towards my chest. “Would you like me to remind you how angry I was?”
He ensnared my ankle in one hand before I could jab it forward and potentially kick him in the groin, but a peeved smirk still played on his mouth. He was apparently enjoying our back and forth too. “I think you’re confusing anger for arousal.”
I forced my smile wider. “No, I know exactly how I feel. Unlike you who confuses jealousy for hatred.”
His jaw shifted side to side as he rubbed his teeth together, and it was my turn to smirk triumphantly.
Yes, we mocked each other, but in the quiet moments we held each other’s gaze after, I realised that the entire conversation had no undercurrent of vindictive dislike or intentional insult. It was just banter. Huh …the conversation had been like that in the morning too.
His face had returned to a stern blankness, sombre even, as he placed my foot on the mattress against his hip again. He pumped a blob of lotion onto his fingers, then took my left hand in his and worked the cream into my wrist and the back of my hand with thorough circles of his thumbs.
Something about his expression and his gentle yet firm touch held my attention. “Yeah. Esmeralda told me,” I heard myself mutter.
Fuck…why did I say that? I wasn’t sure it was wise to steer the conversation back in that direction. But I want to know…
He was silent for almost a minute. I went from feeling annoyed that he’d ignored my comment to relieved that he wasn’t saying anything, and then annoyed again.
Without looking up from my palm, he said, “Have you ever heard of the Platmon Group?”
My brows dipped in confusion. “I…maybe? It rings a bell.”
“Heard of Jaazr Airlines?”
“Oh, yeah. It’s the main international Jahandari airline.” I’d flown on Jaazr with my family the last time we’d visited my cousins in the south of Jahandar.
“And Pentagon Energy?”
I paused, then nodded. “They’re the ones who created more solar and wind energy last year than nuclear or oil and were given a combined grant to help put solar panels on houses too. I read an article about their plans for the project.” I squinted. “What’s this got to do with your dad though?”
“Those are just two of five big companies that are under the Platmon Group.”
“Okay?”
Shehryar finally raised his lashes, setting the burdened weight of his gaze on me. “My father is Andrew Platmon. The chairman of the Platmon Group.”
I blinked and tilted my head, unconvinced I’d heard him correctly. Then slowly, like someone was turning a lever to unwind my jaw, my bottom lip lowered further and further from its upper partner.
“You’re the son—of a freaking billionaire ?” I said, slow and disbelieving.
In every currency , I should’ve added. Andrew Platmon and his family were multibillionaires in every freaking currency in the world. And big multibillionaires.
He was in the top ten list of richest people in all of Neves.
Something sharp and bitter sparked in Shehryar’s eyes as his jaw tightened. “Yes.”
“You’re the son of a freaking billionaire?” I confirmed, then straightened as the words sunk in. “What the fuck? You’re the son of an actual fucking multibillionaire!”
A dark shadow cast over his face. “How many times are you going to repeat that?”
I came off the pillow, gaping at him. “What do you mean? That’s fucking insane. Do you even know how much a billion is?”
“Yes—”
“It’s a thousand million. A freaking thousand. You could spend a million a year until you died and still leave the next nine generations of your family enough money to never have to work.” I widened my eyes and used my hands to emphasise my point. “And your dad has more than fifty of those.”
Shehryar’s eyes flashed again as his shoulders spread wide. “Is that all you care about? Money?”
“No. But your dad has a big fucking amount that’s kind of hard to ignore.”
“The same fucking dad who abandoned me and my mother when I was four years old and allowed everyone in his family to humiliate the both of us.” Hatred laced his growled words.
I angled my chin and raised my brows. “Did you hear me say he was a good person? No. Exactly. I just said he was bloody rich. That’s it.” I put up an index finger. “Plus, I doubt that’s what he told you happened between him and your mum when you saw him today.”
His hard stare narrowed. “Do you think I’m lying about what happened?”
“No. But do you really think you remember everything, let alone remember it accurately? Were you there during every conversation your parents had? Do you know what happened while you weren’t there?” I shook my head. “You were just a kid, Shehryar.”
“And what about what happened after? The things he said to me when I was older?”
I shrugged. “Yeah, well, I don’t know about that, so I can’t say. But I still doubt that was the full story of what happened. If it was, you wouldn’t have gone to meet him today, would’ve you?”
For a long moment, Shehryar scowled irately. The muscles down my neck tightened, preparing me to defend against a verbal attack. “What?” I said, my tone sharp and shielded. “You’re the one who brought it up, so it’s not my problem if you don’t like what I’m saying.”
Another tense, angry few seconds passed before he released my fingers. He extracted himself from between my legs and climbed off the bed with the bottle of lotion in his hand. After returning it to the bathroom, Shehryar shoved his legs into his trousers, picked up the rest of his clothes and shoes from around the velvet chaise, then left my room. Nothing said, no glance backward.
I sat, legs strewn in the way he’d left them, blinking at my closed door.
What the fuck?
“Now who’s the fucking coward?” I muttered, lips curled in annoyance. “Idiot.”
Grumbling to myself, I rolled and arched and huffed until I’d tucked my legs under the warmth of the silk duvet. As I patted it down, the scent of clean, floral sheets filled my lungs, and a jab of something akin to guilt poked through my sternum.
I growled aloud and sank back against the pillow like a moody teenager, glaring at the empty space he had been in moments ago.
I hadn’t said anything wrong. I had no reason to feel guilty. But…it wasn’t guilt exactly.
Confusion and curiosity were thrown in there somewhere too.
Why had he brought up his dad? To me of all people.
We weren’t—we weren’t like that. We didn’t talk about personal things. We didn’t talk at all . We argued and insulted each other. That was it. That was all it had ever been.
Before last night, at least.
Had this been his attempt at an olive branch or the same as waving a white flag? Because it had been a stupid place to start considering what had been said and done between us. And why?
Or had he genuinely wanted someone to talk to about his day? But why me?
That question— why me —was what was causing the puzzled, intrigued, guilty prickling in my chest. And I didn’t like it. It was making my fingers twitch restlessly and my head spin around Shehryar.
The click of the door cut through my focus before it flew open. I flinched and my lips parted.
Shehryar, now dressed in a black hoodie and matching pyjama bottoms, closed my bedroom door behind him and swaggered over to the other side of the bed.
“Why are you back?” I asked, sounding more perplexed than anything else.
Wordlessly, he climbed on top of the duvet and laid down. I watched, open-mouthed, as he made himself comfortable, tucking one arm between his head and the pillow while the other rested on his stomach. He frowned distantly up the chandelier, still without uttering a word.
Okay, what the actual fuck is going on?
I sat as motionless and as stiff as a rock.
“You were right,” he said, turning his face towards me. “I brought it up, but I didn’t like what you said.” The crease between his brows softened. “Nevertheless, I still want to hear your opinion.”
My heart thudded in my throat for some reason. “Why?” I mumbled.
His gaze penetrated my soul for a silent beat. “Because you’re not going to coddle me or sympathise with me like everyone else,” he said quietly. “Esmeralda, Mum, Prince Arsh, I know they’re doing it out of love, but they’re all trying to make this as comfortable as possible for me. But it’s not. I feel anything but comfortable, and the idea of their sympathy now feels…worse.
“But you don’t like me, so you’re not going to sympathise with me, which means you’ll be honest. And as much as I know I’m going to hate it…I need cold honesty.”
A low breath eased out of me, sinking my bones into softening muscle.
He was wrong.
I didn’t like him, but in that moment, I felt a thick ache of sympathy for Shehryar.
He had a lot going on with his mum’s engagement to Prince Arsh, adjusting to being the new interest of the public, and now with his dad too; I supposed I wasn’t exactly excluded from the equation. But I understood where he was coming from. I too would’ve found it frustrating to have everyone cushioning my problem like I was a baby lying on an empty bed when all I wanted to do was solve it and move on. Not because they didn’t want him to solve it, but it was their way of easing or preventing the blow in case he rolled off the bed and hurt himself.
I might’ve wanted to punch him the majority of the time, but I didn’t actually want to see him hurt. Saying that, we didn’t have the same relationship he had with everyone else, so it made sense he thought I could give him the raw honesty he wanted. Still, it was unexpected.
I kept trying to push one specific thought to the back of my mind where I could bury it six feet under, but it was printed on a huge billboard sign above a straight motorway with no slip roads, and I had no other choice but to drive towards it.
Shehryar trusted me.
Not in the same way he trusted me to use our safe word during sex. That was trust, but this was a different kind altogether.
He was making himself vulnerable in a way neither of us had ever allowed ourselves to be. That took ten times the trust. Made it weigh a hundred times more.
It was intense from all sides. It was intimate. And I…
My pride swelled, and a persistent, warm knocking echoed behind my rib cage.
Maybe I could actually follow through with my promises to Esmeralda and be nice to him…
Just this once. Only this once.
With a sigh, I tucked my feet under my arse and angled my body towards him. “Fine. Tell me what happened first.”
He told me, glaring at the ceiling the whole time. How his father was late, what he said had happened from his perspective in varying levels of detail. He explained that his dad wanted a chance to be in his life and had invited him to his half-sister’s birthday party.
When he finished, he set his shadowed gaze on me and waited.
I blinked. And thought. And tilted my head. “I mean…if you tell him you’ll let him back into your life if he gives you a couple billion, you’d be set for life, and his family would barely feel a dent.” I smirked. “Plus, he might put you on his will too, and that’d be perfect revenge, right?”
A deep, irate line cut between Shehryar’s brows. “I don’t want his money.”
“Fine. Then give it to me.” His scowl hardened. I widened my eyes and shrugged. “What? I’m not an idiot like you who’d refuse a couple fucking billion. And he’s your dad, you’re entitled to his money.”
“I don’t want money from a man who hurt my mum,” he growled through his teeth. “Nor do I have a need nor want for it.”
I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, I know. You have an aversion to excess amounts of money.” He opened his mouth to speak, but I kept going. “Fine. Get your revenge then if you’re still pissed about what he did. Do you have any dirt on him that you could expose?”
He stared at me like I’d spat on him. “Do you have anything to say that is a realistic option or opinion rather than being inspired by the endless number of books you and Esmeralda read?”
“You wanted my honest opinion,” I said, glaring back, “and I gave it to you the first time. Take the money—”
“And I said—”
“Well, then what do you want from him, Shehryar?” I snapped. “Because by the sounds of it, your father admitted to being young and stupid and in over his head. And what he did was fucked up, but can you blame him? Honestly? For thinking he was in love but realising it wasn’t going to last? For growing up in wealth and struggling with the idea of giving it up? He was twenty with no prospects or shit of his own. He thought he could make it work with your mum, but clearly, that crumbled the instant there was a problem. Not to mention they would’ve been fucking miserable together by the sounds of it.
“Yeah, he shouldn’t have abandoned his own son or kicked you to the streets when you went to see him, but can you blame him for wanting to keep you away from his toxic-ass family? It might have felt shit to you at the time, but now you know he was trying to protect you, and hindsight should make that count for something, because I’d say it damn well worked. You ended up having a bloody good upbringing in a freaking palace with the best education and prospects without ever needing him.”
Twin flames roared and spat in Shehryar’s gaze, but I wasn’t deterred. “Fucking hate his guts, Shehryar, but accept that things actually worked out for the better. And now that he’s ruling his family, maybe you actually have a chance to have a decent relationship with him without your parents arguing or his family trying to hurt you.”
Silence.
I felt like a boxer, the crowd roaring in my ears, full of adrenaline and bouncing on the balls of my feet, as I taunted my opponent over.
At me. I fucking dare you. Come at me right now.
But Shehryar didn’t launch a series of answering punches or taunts. He turned his glare up to the ceiling and stared and stared, lost in thought as if I wasn’t there.
“What do you actually want, Shehryar?” I asked again once the pumped-up feeling faded. “Do you want to forgive him and give him another chance, or do you want to say, ‘thanks but no thanks’ ?”
He scratched a set of fingers through his trimmed beard as he sighed, then set his hand back on his stomach. “I don’t think I can forgive him…”
“Then—”
“Yet.”
I pressed my lips together as the rest of my sentence evaporated. “Well…that’s something,” I settled on saying. “Start slow then. Make the asshole grovel on his bloody knees.”
Shehryar grunted, and he didn’t smile, but a lightness eased over his expression. He shook his head. “You and Esmeralda read too many romance books.”
I arched a brow. “Can you blame us? Men suck in real life.” I paused over that. “Well…Kai doesn’t suck.” From the corner of my mouth, I added, “Can’t say the same thing about you though…”
He rolled his eyes with the faintest little curl on his lips but didn’t retort, and we fell into a silent, smiling staring competition. The increasing depth of his intense stare had my skin prickling in a way that made me itch and twitch from the inside out.
“What?” I muttered, easing away from him on instinct.
His tongue slipped out between his lips, dragging my focus down. In my distracted state, I didn’t see his hand come out from under his head or reach for my throat.
I gasped as he clamped his palm around my nape and drew my upper body down. Under the threat of toppling forward, my hand flew out and clamped on his opposite shoulder. I was ready to stretch my arm and snap at him, but he sealed his wide mouth over mine and kissed me hard. But slow. Somehow lazily and yet still demanding as he pushed his tongue between my lips.
I let my weight sink over him and kissed him back, though it wasn’t the most comfortable position in all honesty. Not that I cared enough to complain when he eased into the pillow and let me take over. I nipped and licked and mapped the entirety of his mouth, swallowing his little breaths in between.
And it was sexual. Fuck, it was. Enough to make me ache as if I hadn’t been touched in several months. But there was no urgency, no rush. No need to progress what we were doing.
We just kissed. And kissed. And kissed.
When my lungs complained for air like a bitchy customer, I released his mouth from my clutches. Just enough to suck in big gulping breaths as the dizzy sway of my body kept our kiss-stung lips brushing against each other. Neither of us made any attempt to ease further apart.
His fingers kneaded into my neck, and I felt the touch right between my legs. Without any underwear on, I was hyperaware of how wet I was getting, how badly I wanted him again so soon after he’d railed me already. But I didn’t make a move to mount to him. I stayed where I was, gently scratching my nails through his beard with idle drags of my fingers.
All until Shehryar tightened his grip on my nape and urged me slightly away, his dilated eyes meeting mine. “Thank you,” he rasped so damn quietly.
A sharp jolt of blood rushed like a river of lava under my skin as my heart erupted from the mouth of a volcano and collapsed, sizzling and thrumming, right back into place.
I couldn’t hear my own thoughts over the echoing ring in my scorched ears. The only thing audible was the thud, thud, thud slamming behind my rib cage.
Why had he said it like that? So deep and warm and raw and…
Tender. Full of the kind of genuine emotion we hadn’t ever shared before.
I searched his heated gaze, unblinking and unmoving from my face. And shuddered as he slid his thumb in a small circle against my pulse, forming a crack in my tranced state.
Trying to regain some sense of what the fuck was going on, I gulped and eased back, lashes fluttering. Shehryar’s hand on my nape held me close, so I didn’t make it very far. In fact, he just pulled me back down to where I had been, forcing me to remain in ridiculous close proximity to his piercing observation. His bodily heat wrapped me up like a personalised, special delivery parcel. His sexy, citrusy male scent poked at my lungs, and I—
That was when the panic, but not the red-blaring-lights kind of panic, kicked in. The “what the fucks,” and “what is this,” “why is this,” “who is this,” and “ how is this,” but also “why does this feel good” noise in my head. I should’ve jerked back and diffused the situation with an insult or sarcastic comment, but it was confusing. And confusion led to slow reactions and slow understanding and aching pulses of…
I’m horny, right? Like really horny. That had to be it. That was it.
I wasn’t quite done with Shehryar’s mouth, hands, and cock for the night. That had to be why my insides and outsides felt so sensitive under his gaze, touch, and words.
Clinging on to that assurance for dear life, I rubbed my thumb across his bottom lip and tugged at it. “Thank me by putting this mouth to good use, Sheri,” I purred, adding an extra edge of seduction into my low tone so my meaning was clear.
A wolfish grin spread across his swollen lips before I suddenly found myself on my back, breathless, dazed, and blinking up at his stupidly handsome face. As he lowered over me, I clamped my hands around his jaw and held him still. If it weren’t for the hunger in his heavy-lidded eyes, I might’ve been distracted by how cute he looked with his cheeks squished against my palms, but—
“No more than two orgasms, do you hear me?” I said firmly. Because knowing him…
“Yes, ma’am,” he purred, and an arrow of arousal jabbed through my lower belly.
“Don’t ‘ma’am’ m —” My complaint melted into a moan as he licked across my neck.
One roughed hand dragged my T-shirt up as he whispered, “Two with my mouth. Two with my fingers. And two with my dick, right?”
My eyes widened. “Sher—” But the rest of his name came out as a groan as he found my wet core.
Fuck, I was screwed when it came to this man.
In the sex way! In the sex way.
Only in the sex way.