Dirty Wild Sultan 18+ A Steamy Marriage of Convenience Royal Romance

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Zain

I hummed, burying my nose in the warm skin, taking a deep breath of the subtle scent of jasmine with something musky. Hair tickled my face, my hands gliding up the curve of soft skin. I squeezed the tenderness, opening my half-lidded eyes, and smiled.

Jasmine. That was the name of my wife. The beautiful brunette who was sleeping beside me. Her lips were parted as she breathed deeply, clutching the pillow and nuzzling her body towards mine.

A small smile made its way to my lips. It was three in the morning, white curtains flowing as the cool breeze swept into the room. Making sure not to wake her up, I shifted, pulling away from her, and stared up at the ceiling.

My thoughts were all over the place. I was conflicted, yet somehow relieved. I didn't know why. But the reality that I slept with her, a stranger, was like being splashed with a bucket of ice water on a winter night. Twenty-four hours ago, I didn't want to have sex. I was comfortable being abstinent all my life.

Yet, just one look at her. I couldn't stop myself.

Something shuffled. I looked down and mentally groaned, running a hand over my face. I had to get hard at this hour.

Surely it couldn't be because she's beautiful. There was something familiar about her, but I had been seduced by the most beautiful princesses and daughters of sheikhs and royals in the past. Since the day I was crowned as the Sultan. Then why did I lose all my senses as soon as I saw her?

Her face looked so serene when she was sleeping. The taste of her musky feminine scent lingered in my mouth, and I hated that I wanted to wake her up and taste her again. I hated that I was so physically attracted to her. A stranger. I hated that I wanted to have sex with her again and again and again until I had my fill. But the one thing that I hated the most was that I might never have my fill after what had happened a few hours ago.

Is this how my father felt when he saw my mother in the market? Saw her, wooed her, and married her? Only to harm her years later because he wasn't happy. Would I turn out just like him? Love someone and hurt them once I had enough?

How far does the apple fall from the tree?

"What are you thinking about?"

My eyes averted to the sultry voice of the woman staring up at me, her eyes half-lidded as she yawned, leaning closer. The subtle scent of jasmine wafted in my nose. I don't know why I wished to tell her the truth.

"I was thinking about my father. How... angry I am at him for being him, if that makes any sense," I said, my heart beat increasing waiting for her response. To laugh at my awkwardness and the fact that I was thinking about my father and my past when a stunning naked woman was sleeping beside me.

But she didn't laugh.

Her deep brown eyes blinked at me as she nodded. "Yes... I understand what you mean. I have a terrible relationship with my father." She grinned, poking my cheek with her finger, "In fact, you should be glad that I am angry at him."

"I should?"

"Yes. That's why I came to the club to drink and hopefully... you know." She looked around, waving her hand. My eyes dropping to her breasts when the blanket slid down.

I hummed, reaching my hand out to touch them. Her eyes flashing towards me, no longer sleepy as she bit her lip when my fingers rolled around the hardened nub.

"At least we have hateful fathers in common," I said, leaning down to kiss her neck, wrapping my hand around the back of her neck, and urging her closer. I hissed when she palmed my length. The blanket pushed away as we both sighed and moaned, teasing each other.