Muhafiz-E-Khan (Tere Bin MeeraSim FF)

45 - Pyar

The abrupt end to their intimacy etched a deep scowl onto Meerab's dewy bridal visage, stood sans pants in their sprawling hotel suite, dimples dappling her chin with pent-up sexual frustration while her husband transformed into a dashing, effortless host on Sadaf's one knock.

Now, he stood conversing with Sadaf about irrelevant details, guests and food, for their qwalli night with chiming music continuing to charm guests in the huge amphitheatre.

Then, Murtasim closed the door and turned back to see Meerab fuming up red with anger. Her core burned and convulsed for more attention and caresses that'd help her finish what they started so eagerly.

Trying to suppress a humoured smile, Murtasim walked closer and stroked her hair in request for amends, whispering his plea of, ''I'll sort you out later, vaada hai mera, all night in the cabin.'' (I promise you.)

Disillusioned, Meerab shrugged off the subtle touch. His words did nothing to mellow her core's agonising throb after being teased and tempted with pleasure that never quite devoured her fully. ''Just go, bula rahi hai,'' Meerab snapped, jealous his attention was needed elsewhere. (She's calling you.)

Murtasim almost obliged, but his sight lingered as if he had other unfinished business besides her pleasure-quota being unfulfilled.

''Kya hai?'' Meerab asked sharply, her doll eyes looking up to her husband with a new sort of disappointment that tasted sour and bitter at the back of her throat. In that moment, she recalled the blowjob on his birthday and countless hours spent luxuriating him in pleasure since then, including the little shows she put on for him whilst clad in scanty lingerie that left little to fantasise about further — she had spoilt him rotten and this is how he repaid her? (What is it?)

Courageously, Murtasim pointed at her plump, tingling post-kiss lips. ''Lipstick phir se karlo,'' Murtasim suggested hesitantly — she was as sensitive as an explosive landmine, ready to attack him if he overstepped. (You should re-apply your lipstick.)

A shuddering scoff left her lips, utterly baffled while her finger impaled the buttery fabric smoothed over his annoyingly hot and marble-hard torso. ''Aur tum cologne pehnlo. You smell like sex,'' she retorted. Meerab's voice was laced with haughty venom while informing, ''And your neck is bright red, Shehzaada, the same shade as the kameez. Oops.'' (And you should wear some more perfume.)

Touché. The attitude left him staring, breaths calculated while weighing up how long her offended-stance would last.

She offered a fake look of pity and flicked her rolling waves back over her shoulder.

The cool whip of air made Murtasim palm his neck that suddenly burned at 200 degrees, now realising the hazing excitement for a quickie meant he didn't fully appreciate her gold lingerie either. In the little time they spent mauling each other, Meerab had marked him, sinking her teeth into his neck enough to leave a darkening imprint. Murtasim shook his head, and this time, he remembered to wear the shawl. It was bunched up to give some coverage, and looped around his hickey-stained neck, hanging either wide his kameez's train of buttons.

The sight of him, so selfishly fulfilled, pissed her off. Meerab rinsed between her legs in a the washroom, and freshened up with a layer of tinted gloss in the adjoining vanity. She didn't spare him a glance as she wandered back out with an air of scandal, yet Murtasim's aura light with gratification.

After spritzing something musky scent over his chest, Murtasim nodded towards the door. ''Come, Nawabzadi.''

''Don't call me that,'' she hissed.

''Tou aur kya bulau. Biwi ya meri jaan?'' Murtasim cooed, playing with fire. (What else shall I address you as?)

''Tum mere taraf dekhho hi na tou kaafi hoga.'' When Meerab's teeth clenched, her jawline sharpened; she seemed even hotter, but frustration clouded her mind. (If you don't look on my direction, that'll be enough.)