Murtasim was a man known for his composure, his ability to maintain control in any situation. But tonight, on the evening of his first wedding anniversary, that control was slipping fast. The moment he laid eyes on Meerab in that exquisite black chiffon saree, every ounce of his self-restraint flew out the window.
The saree clung to her like a second skin, accentuating every curve, every line of her body in the most tantalizing way. The fabric was sheer, offering teasing glimpses of the smooth skin beneath, and the way it draped over her waist left just enough to the imagination. Her hair was styled in loose waves, cascading down her back, and the soft glow of the room's candlelight made her look like a vision straight out of his most carnal fantasies.
Murtasim could barely keep his eyes off her. His mind raced with thoughts of what he wanted to do to her, the ways he wanted to make her his. The black saree, with its delicate embroidery and sensual transparency, awakened a primal desire in him that was hard to ignore. The thought of taking her, tying her up to the bedpost, and making her beg for more was becoming increasingly impossible to push aside.
They had just arrived at their bedroom after the anniversary party downstairs, where Meerab had been the center of attention. Everyone had complimented her on her beauty, and while Murtasim had been proud, it also stoked a possessive fire in him. She was his wife, and tonight, he intended to remind her of that in the most unforgettable way.
As soon as the door closed behind them, Murtasim's hands were on her, pulling her close. His lips brushed against her ear, his voice a low growl. "Meerab, do you have any idea what you're doing to me in this saree?"
Meerab smiled, a sultry, knowing look in her eyes as she turned to face him. "What do you mean, Murtasim? It's just a saree."
His hands tightened around her waist, pulling her flush against him. "Just a saree? It's driving me mad. I can't think of anything else but taking it off you."
Meerab's breath hitched, her pulse quickening at the heat in his voice. "Then what's stopping you?" she whispered, her fingers trailing down his chest, teasing him with light touches.
Murtasim's eyes darkened with lust as he leaned in, capturing her lips in a searing kiss. His hands roamed over her body, feeling the softness of her curves beneath the delicate fabric. He pulled away just enough to murmur against her lips, "I want to tie you up, Meerab. Make you mine all over again. Do you trust me?"
Before Meerab could respond, there was a loud knock on the door. They both froze, the moment shattered by the sudden interruption. Murtasim cursed under his breath, reluctantly pulling away from her as he went to answer the door.
It was Maa Begum, his mother, her face filled with concern. "Murtasim, beta, have you seen Mariyam? She wasn't feeling well, and I wanted to check on her."
Murtasim forced a smile, trying to hide his frustration. "She's probably resting in her room, Maa Begum. I'll go check on her in a bit."
Maa Begum nodded, still looking worried. "Alright, but do make sure she's okay."
As soon as she left, Murtasim closed the door, locking it this time. He turned back to Meerab, his eyes blazing with renewed intensity. "Now, where were we?"
But before he could reach her, there was another knock on the door. This time, it was Anwar. Murtasim opened the door, barely concealing his irritation.
"Murtasim, I just wanted to congratulate you and Meerab on your anniversary. And, by the way, have you seen your mother? She was looking for you earlier."
Murtasim's smile was tight, his patience wearing thin. "Thank you, Chacha Sahab. I just spoke to maa sahab and everything is alright."
As soon as the door was shut again, Murtasim turned to Meerab with a frustrated sigh. "If one more person interrupts us, I swear..."
