My core burned hearing him, my body heating underneath his gleaming obsidian eyes. I couldn’t believe that man. Sultan Zain Al Latif, my soon-to-be-husband, wanted to make me come again. It had only been a minute.
“I am too sensitive,” I breathed, my palm brushing over his arm and retrieving it from the bath.
He noticed the lack of my touch on his arm, which he had gladly allowed me to hold when he was fucking me with his fingers. I had to close my hands into a fist and stop myself from grabbing him by his neck and kissing him again. I missed the way his warm skin felt underneath my palm, the way muscles on his arm moved when he pushed his fingers inside me.
I eyed his stiffened dick and said, “What about you? I want to—”
“Maybe some other time,” Zain said, tilting his head as he stood up, looming over the bath. “Come on, the water has turned cold. I don’t want my fiancée to get sick.”
Fiancée.
My mouth parted, and before I could process what he had said, I followed his lead. I bit my lip at the sight of his dripping naked body, watching his muscles move and tense as he dried himself, wrapping a towel around his waist. He helped me up from the bath, my palm holding his large, calloused hand. His eyes didn’t waver from my face when water dripped down my bare body.
“Fiancée?” I managed to utter. “Since when?”
Holding a clean white towel, he said, “Since you climaxed in my hand and I had the taste of the sweetest sin.” His eyes darkened, lowering down my body, my belly tightening, curling at his scorching gaze.
“I didn’t know Sultan could be so crude with his words,” I said, my voice small.
I hated how his voice affected me. How his coal eyes made a liquid fire pool between my legs. How his beautifully rugged face made me want to wish I could see him between my thighs. I hated how he affected me. I had never felt such utter lack of control when I was with someone else.
It was scary and thrilling.
Zain tsked at me, taking a step closer and patting my wet body with the dry towel as if we were having a casual conversation about the weather. “Only with you, my sweet wife,” he crooned, his warm breath brushing my cheek.
I swallowed the lump in my throat when he, the Sultan of Azmia, bent on his knees wearing nothing but a towel while I stood naked, dripping with water. I gazed at his dark hair when he patted my skin dry, my legs, my thighs, my butt.
“I can do it myself, you know,” I said, a flush creeping up my neck.
“I know.” He gazed up at me from his knees, his face close to my heated sex. “But I wanted an excuse to touch you again.”
My heart thundered when I said, “You don’t need an excuse to touch me, Zain.”
His lips parted, my eyes falling on them, and I had the sudden urge to hold his hair and kiss him—
Someone knocked on the door of the room, breaking the sexual pull between us. He straightened up, letting me drape the towel around me. We gazed at each other for a moment, waiting for the other to say something.
But Zain stepped out of the bathroom, giving me privacy while he went to check who was at the door with his clothes in hand.
I clutched the towel to my chest and stared at my reflection in the mirror. My dusky skin was glowing, flushed from neck to cheeks and ears. I shook my head and exhaled a sharp breath. I had to remind myself that the marriage was not based on the love that my mother wanted for me, even though we had a physical pull towards each other.
But that physical pull... it made me want to sigh, remembering how I had just orgasmed a few moments ago. His filthy words ringing in my ears, his burning eyes. I wondered what would have happened if we hadn’t been interrupted. If we had landed in the sheets, kissing each other, devouring each other. I wanted to know how he would look hovering above me, how he would feel stretching me, filling me.
I wanted a round two of that night with him.
I blushed, thinking about the bulge in his pants I had seen earlier while he was busy pleasuring me.
“Nasrin?” The man of my dirty daydream knocked on the door, his eyebrow raised as he looked at me.
“Yes?” I said, my voice high-pitched.
“We are getting engaged today.”
* * *
“This is my younger brother, Khalid,” Zain formally introduced me to his younger brother, Prince of Azmia, who smiled at me with a small bow.
We were greeting and introducing each other to our families. My younger and older brother stayed in Maahnoor, taking care of the duties while my father and eldest brother, Sadiq Elbaz, Sultan of Maahnoor, were in Azmia.
“Where is Zara?” Zain asked a worried guard, whispering something in his ear that made his jaw clench. I wanted to ask him if his sister was okay when he smiled at my family. “My little sister will join us for lunch.”
I was excited to meet Princess Zara Al Latif. She had been sheltered within Azmia and the palace so that no one but her family, the royal guards and other royals knew what she looked like. As she was the youngest Al Latif sibling and the only princess, both the brothers had kept her hidden in the palace. It was rumored that Zain didn’t allow her photograph to be taken or let other people see her because she was born scarred. Or… ugly.
I didn’t believe those rumors. I knew she was his half-sister, born from his second mother, but she must be a beauty, having Al Latif’s genes. Zain had mentioned to me that even though he and Khalid didn’t want others to see their little sister, it was her choice to keep her privacy. Her face to herself.
My father laughed. “No worries, Sultan. We are all eager to meet the Princess, especially Sadiq.”
Sadiq nodded lazily, my hand finding Zain’s and squeezing his hand, knowing well what my father meant. Of course, he would think of that. Marry Sadiq to the young princess who had just turned nineteen. It shamed me he would ever think about that. Sadiq was fifteen years older than her.
“Maybe she will have lunch alone.” Khalid glared at my eldest brother and my father. “Sadiq? I would suggest you erase your thoughts of marrying my sister. It will not happen as long as I am alive.”
“It’s Sultan Sadiq to you, Prince,” he replied, gritting his teeth.
Khalid ran his eyes over my brother’s form, chuckling at him, “If you truly were a sultan, Sadiq, you wouldn’t have to announce it every two seconds.”
I did not plan to have bloodshed on my engagement.
We hadn’t exchanged the rings yet.
I cleared my throat. “I think that’s enough, Prince Khalid and Brother.”
Zain continued, “Lunch must be ready. Come now, let’s celebrate.”
Sitting beside Zain while we had our lunch at the low table with our family members was a unique experience. My father and brothers never let me sit at the head of the table. But during lunch, Zain and I sat side by side while Zara, his sweet little sister, sat at the head of the table with Khalid beside her. My brother Sadiq sat on Zara’s opposite on the far end.
It was a surprise to see Princess Zara for the first time and greeting her when she gave me a dimpled smile, telling me she loved how I did my hair and needed me to teach her. I promised I would.
But knowing the angered look on Khalid’s face at my father’s hint of marriage, I knew there was something more than just brotherly protection towards Zara.
My father was giving Zara odd looks as she talked and laughed with Khalid, her beauty different from ours, with her pale skin, doe eyes and elfish face. I had the urge to protect her from him and Sadiq, who kept glaring at her.
I flickered my eyes from my brother to Zain’s. “I should thank you for your proposal.”
“And I should thank you for accepting it.”
I tugged at his suit and leaned closer to whisper in his ear. “I mean it, Sultan Zain. I owe you.”
He chuckled, his eyes glittering brightly. “You owe me nothing, Princess Nasrin. Let’s eat before the food gets cold and tell me about your favorite sweet.”
I talked to him about the sweet taste of kunafah, my mouth watering while I ate the spicy curry with naan. He seemed amused by my explanation and promised to try it as we talked back and forth until my father cleared his throat. For the umpteenth time.
“Here,” Zain leaned over and poured water in my father’s glass. “Cold water will help with the spicy food.”
I tried to hide my smile and stared wide-eyed at Zara when she let out a small giggle.
My father looked furious, ignoring the glass of water. “I think it’s time we discuss the marriage arrangements.”
“We should. I think it’d be best if we do it early. Next month?”
Sadiq butted in, “No need to be eager, Sultan Zain. I was hoping we could wait till winter.”
I certainly did not want to wait for six months and live in Maahnoor with my father and brothers.
“Why not ask Princess Nasrin?” Zara spoke up, sensing my discomfort. All heads turned towards me. “She is the bride after all.”
Zain squeezed my hand and whispered, “What do you want, Nasrin?”
My stomach coiled tightly when he gazed at me with his obsidian eyes. His large hand was warm and the way his thumb caressed the pulse of my wrist made me remember that his thumb was between my legs, teasing the pulsing nub in the same manner. His eyes gleamed as if he knew what I was thinking about.
“I was thinking next week,” I grinned, hoping no one could see my flush. “I can’t wait to be a sultana after all.”
A few of Zain’s peers chuckled along with his grandma, who smiled at me. Zain squeezed my hand in return. He glanced at Sadiq. “You heard your sister. The preparation will take no longer than a few days and we will hold the wedding in the palace so you don’t have to worry about the details.”
“Sultan, may I suggest you exchange the rings tonight for public announcement,” his advisor spoke up.
“Of course, Rahim,” Sultan of Azmia looked at me. “We will have the ring ceremony this evening. If it’s no trouble, I would like Nasrin to stay here, get used to being a sultana.”
My brother didn’t like that idea, glaring at me as I stared straight into his eyes, challenging him, daring him to belittle me. But he couldn’t.
“I think that’s a great idea,” I said, faking a cough. “I get sick when I travel so I’ll stay in Azmia.”
My father rolled his eyes at my lie and continued to talk about the bonding between Azmia and Maahnoor through our marriage. How it would end the rivalry between the two countries and benefit both of them.
Zain held my hand under the table during the remainder of lunch and I missed the warmth of it when we had to stand up and go our separate ways.