Murtasim lay in the darkness of their bedroom, staring at the ceiling. The once-familiar space now felt eerily empty without Meerab. She had gone to Karachi for a week, and though it had only been three days, the absence of her presence gnawed at him relentlessly. He missed everything about her—the sound of her laughter, the way her eyes sparkled with mischief, and most of all, the touch of her body beside him.
His need for her had never been this overwhelming. Every moment spent apart seemed to amplify his craving for her. His skin tingled with desire, his mind racing with thoughts of the moments they had shared. He needed her now, more than ever, but she was miles away.
He rolled over onto his side, reaching for his phone. His fingers hovered over her contact, hesitating for a brief second before he pressed the call button. The phone rang, the sound loud in the stillness of the room.
"Hello?" came Meerab’s soft, sleepy voice on the other end.
The sound of her voice sent a jolt of heat through him. Murtasim swallowed hard, his voice thick with need as he spoke. "Meerab, are you alone?"
There was a pause, and then a hint of curiosity crept into her voice. "Yes, I’m in my room. Why?"
He exhaled deeply, his mind already slipping into a haze of desire. "I miss you," he said, his voice low and husky.
Meerab chuckled softly, her tone playful. "It’s only been three days, Murtasim. I’ll be back soon."
"It feels like a lifetime," he murmured, his hand gripping the edge of the pillow beside him, imagining it was her. "I can’t stop thinking about you. I can’t stop thinking about… your body."
Her breath hitched slightly on the other end of the line, and Murtasim could feel the shift in the air between them, even through the phone.
"Murtasim…" she whispered, her voice suddenly more serious, but there was a tremor of anticipation there too.
"Meerab," he rasped, closing his eyes, letting the need he felt spill into his words. "I want you. Right now. I can't take it anymore. I need to feel you, even if it’s just over the phone."
Her silence spoke volumes. He could almost picture her biting her lip, her cheeks flushing at his words. Finally, she spoke, her voice a soft, breathless whisper. "What do you want me to do?"
A surge of heat shot through Murtasim, his pulse quickening. He leaned back against the pillows, his voice lowering even more. "Tell me what you're wearing, Meerab."
Meerab hesitated for a moment, then responded, her voice barely above a whisper. "Just a nightgown."
His breathing grew heavier at the thought of her in something delicate, something he could imagine sliding off her shoulders. "Is it the white one?" he asked, knowing exactly which one he meant. The one that clung to her curves in just the right way.
"Yes," she replied softly, her voice almost shy.
Murtasim groaned softly, his hand trailing down his chest as his mind painted vivid images of her. "Take it off for me," he said, his voice commanding but full of desire.
"Murtasim…" she whispered, her breath hitching again, but this time there was no mistaking the desire in her tone.
"Please, Meerab," he rasped, his voice thick with arousal. "I need you."
He heard the soft rustle of fabric through the phone, and his imagination ran wild. He could picture her perfectly—her body illuminated by the dim light of her room, her hair cascading over her shoulders, her skin flushed with anticipation.
"I took it off," she said, her voice barely audible but filled with a trembling excitement that made Murtasim’s heart race.
"Good girl," he whispered, his voice rough and filled with longing. "Now, touch yourself. Pretend it's me. Tell me what you're feeling."
There was a soft intake of breath on the other end, and Murtasim could practically feel her hesitance, her uncertainty mixing with desire.
"Murtasim… I…" Meerab's voice was shaky, but she didn’t stop. "I'm touching… my stomach. Thinking about how your hands feel… when you do it."
His breath quickened. "And what about lower, Meerab? Are your fingers sliding lower?" His own hand trailed down his body, his need for her growing with every word she spoke.
She let out a small whimper, her voice almost trembling. "Yes…"
"Good," Murtasim growled softly, his voice thick with need. "Now imagine it's me. Imagine I'm there with you, my hands on your body, my lips kissing every inch of your skin."
Meerab’s soft breaths filled the phone, the tension between them growing with every passing second. Murtasim closed his eyes, picturing her, imagining her lost in the same overwhelming desire that consumed him.
"Do you want me, Meerab?" he whispered, his voice hoarse with need.
"Yes," she breathed, her voice strained with the same longing that consumed him.
"Tell me," Murtasim urged, his body aching for her even more. "Tell me how much you want me."
"I want you so much," she whispered, her voice trembling with desire. "I need you, Murtasim."
His chest tightened, his breath ragged as he groaned into the phone. "I want you too, Meerab. I want you so badly… I can’t wait until you’re back here, in my arms, in my bed."
Meerab’s soft whimpers on the other end of the line only fueled his arousal. Murtasim’s hand moved slowly, his mind lost in the sensation of her words, her voice, her presence. He was desperate for her, his need growing more intense with every second.
"Murtasim," she moaned softly, her voice full of yearning.
"Meerab… I can’t take it anymore," he groaned, his voice rough and strained. "I need you here. Now."
"I’ll be back soon," she promised, her voice a mixture of breathless desire and soft reassurance. "Just hold on for a little longer."
Murtasim let out a frustrated groan, his body aching for her, but he knew he would wait. He would wait because there was no one else he wanted, no one else who could make him feel this way.
"Just know," he whispered, his voice thick with longing, "that when you come back, I’m not letting you out of my sight. Or my arms."
Meerab let out a soft laugh, though her voice was still laced with desire. "I’ll hold you to that, Murtasim."
As they hung up the phone, Murtasim lay back in the darkness, his body still humming with the aftershocks of their conversation. The week couldn’t pass fast enough. He needed her, and when she returned, he would make sure she knew just how much.
