Page 32 of Dirty Wild Sultan

I could imagine how she was going to complain that it wasn’t something she deserved. Too bad that I was already thinking about how I would make her say ‘I deserve it’ with my mouth covering her soaking pussy.

I had given her a small tour of the palace that evening, showing her all the ancient riches we possessed, along with the sterling diamond ring with emerald stone she wore on her finger. It was never worn once. A heritage my mothers passed to us, making sure it was taken care of.

I knew in my heart when she smiled at the ring and asked, ‘What will we have for dinner?’ that it would be well taken care of on her finger, my soon-to-be-wife, Nasrin.

She took my hand, her eyes wide when she saw my palm was shaking. I cleared my throat. Biting her lip, she slid the golden band around my finger. It had a similar emerald but smaller than the diamond donning her finger. Her soft hand enveloped mine as more cheers erupted around us, glasses filled with alcohol clinking.

“Are you okay?” Nasrin asked when the photographer asked us to stand closer to each other. He gave us a forced smile and told me to wrap my hand around her waist and look thrilled.

“I am fine.”

“Your hands are shaking.”

“Hmm.” I grunted.

“Are you regretting your decision to marry me?” she asked, peering up at me. When I didn’t reply, she said, “I promise not to snore too loudly when we share a room, Sultan.”

I managed to crack a smile and shook my head at her when other members of royalty surrounded us, asking us how we met, about the wedding arrangements, and how beautiful our babies would look.

Hearing the last question made me pick up a couple of glasses of champagne to cool down my warming face. I didn’t understand why I was nervous and why I felt embarrassed talking about babies.

I didn’t sleep well that night, being ashamed in the morning meeting with Rahim and my good friend Zayed, because I couldn’t focus. I had delved deep into reading about sex late at night, trying my best to avoid watching porn and ignoring the bulge when I had imagined doing all those things with Nasrin. I couldn’t seem to forget the sight of her when she had reached her peak, falling over the edge when my fingers caressed the innermost sensitive parts of her.

I was growing restless. Knowing she was staying under the same roof of the palace made me want to stalk into her room and demand to know what she had done to me. I was being foolish, acting like an imbecile since the day we got engaged. Since the day we met.

I was walking down the hallway alone, grumbling under my breath, when I found out that Nasrin had gone to visit the market with two guards. I sent four more for her protection and knew we would have a chat about it when she returned.

When I looked up, I saw Zara walking towards me, her eyes blurred with tears as her face scrunched angrily.

How dare someone—

“Zara?” I asked softly. “What happened, Princess?”

She glared at me. “Don’t call methat.”

My sister looked at me as if I had called her a rat instead of a princess.

I raised my brows, walking with her as she stomped away. “Did Khalid say something?”

She shook her head and threw her hands in the air. “Why are boys so stupid and confusing?”

“Excuse me?”

“Yes. They are. Not even boys, men are! I hate them!” She complained, shutting herself in her room before I could follow her and ask her what happened. I needed to know why my sister was complaining about boys.

“Have you seen her with someone?” I asked her guard, who was sweating. “A boy, perhaps?”

He stuttered, “N-no, Sultan.”

I hummed and narrowed my eyes at him. “If she does, you will come straight to me.”

He dipped his chin.

“Sayyou will.”

“Y-yes, Sultan!”

“Good.”

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