The atmosphere in the room was thick with tension, the kind that made every breath feel heavier than the last. Murtasim sat on the edge of the bed, his shirt partially unbuttoned, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he gazed down at Meerab, who was on her knees before him. Her soft touch and delicate lips were driving him wild, pulling him to the edge of control.
His fingers curled tightly into her hair, gently at first, guiding her as she moved against him. But the intensity of his desire was making it hard to be gentle. His grip tightened unconsciously as the need inside him grew unbearable, his head tilting back in frustration as a low groan escaped his throat.
Meerab’s hands were steady, but there was a hesitancy in her actions. She was always teasing him, always testing his patience, and this time was no different. He could feel her pulling back just when he was on the verge of losing himself completely, making him desperate, making him want to demand more. His breathing became heavier, a harsh rasp in the otherwise silent room.
And just when he thought he couldn’t take it any longer, a sudden knock shattered the moment.
It wasn’t a polite knock either; it was loud, insistent, demanding attention.
Meerab’s eyes widened in shock, her movements halting instantly. Without a second thought, she jerked away from him, wiping her lips hastily, her hands shaking slightly from the sudden interruption.
“No… no, no, no,” Murtasim growled in a low, dangerous voice. His grip on her hair loosened, but he was far from letting her go. He was still desperate, still aching, still on the edge of release, and now that release was slipping further from his grasp. His mind was a haze of frustration and need, and he wasn’t going to let her stop so easily.
He grabbed her wrist roughly, pulling her back toward him. His voice was hoarse with desperation as he begged, “Meerab, don’t stop. Please… I need this.”
His words weren’t a request—they were a demand. His eyes darkened with lust, his jaw clenched tight with frustration. His hold on her wrist was firm, almost too firm, as if he feared she’d slip away completely.
Meerab looked at him, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment, her eyes wide with anxiety as she glanced toward the door. “Murtasim, stop!” she whispered harshly, trying to pull her hand free from his grip. “Someone’s at the door!”
“I don’t care,” Murtasim hissed through gritted teeth, his other hand grabbing her waist and pulling her closer to him. “I need you, Meerab. Right now. Just ignore it.”
Her heart raced, but she knew she couldn’t. The knocking had grown louder, more impatient. She could hear footsteps shuffling outside the door, and her mind raced with the fear of who it might be. She struggled against Murtasim’s hold, pulling away from him with all her strength.
“Murtasim!” she whispered fiercely, her tone urgent. “We can’t. Someone will come in.”
Her words barely registered in his haze of need. He grabbed her waist harder, his fingers digging into her skin, a soft growl of frustration escaping him. He was losing his patience, his control, and the interruption was making him angrier by the second.
Meerab finally managed to pull herself free from his grasp, scrambling to her feet. “Just—just zip up your pants, please!” she begged, her voice trembling with urgency.
He threw her a dark, angry look, his jaw set tight, as if he was trying to control the primal urge coursing through him. Reluctantly, he stood up, yanking his pants back into place with an angry snap of the zipper. His eyes were still burning with unfulfilled desire, and he was nowhere near satisfied.
