•••
"She feared the monster… but craved the way he said her name."
•••
Aamirah’s breath hitched when she felt his grip tighten around her waist, his hand splayed possessively against her lower back. His lips, still lingering on the tender skin of her neck, pressed a slow kiss, not of love, but of possession. She could feel the warmth of his breath, the low hum of control as he whispered against her skin.
Her collar slipped slightly, baring more of her to him, and her heart thundered with rage. How dare he touch her like this, now, when she was still burning in the flames of betrayal?
“Leave me,” she murmured shakily, her voice trembling with fury, “You can’t touch me... not like this.”
But her protest only made him pause, not in hesitation, but in defiance. His hand stilled for a breath, then moved with a slow deliberation, tightening just enough to steal her breath again. Her sharp inhale betrayed her even before her lips could.
A stinging pat landed on her hip, not harsh, but commanding, as he murmured near her ear, voice laced with iron, “Wrap your legs around me.”
She didn’t. Instead, her gaze drifted downward, locking, not with his eyes, but the rigid wall of his chest, as if willing herself to look anywhere but into the storm of his gaze. There was an ache in her, not just in her limbs, but deep in the place between her legs where she is too shy to speak and too prideful to acknowledge. And yet, her pride held her spine straight.
He exhaled slowly, as if reigning himself in, then reached for his phone.
“Salem,” he said, voice frigid as steel. “Send me the CCTV footage of my office. Every second from the last two weeks. Now.”
“Yes, sir,” came the clipped reply.
But before he could end the call, Aamirah’s voice cut through the air like a blade dipped in poison and sorrow.
“I don’t trust him,” she said, barely above a whisper, her words heavy, shaking with wounded dignity. “Why would he betray you… afterall... he’s more of a wife than I am.” she completed after a pause.
Silence.
A deadly silence.
Both men froze, one over the phone, the other standing before her.
He stared at her.
Not in anger.
Not in amusement.
But something darker, wounded pride, twisted guilt… and something far more dangerous.
Even though she hadn’t meant it in a romantic way, her words came out like a soft, innocent complaint, a fragile echo of hurt buried deep in her chest.
Salem, on the other end of the line, coughed awkwardly. His ears turned visibly red as her words echoed in the room like thunder. "He seems more like your wife than I am." The mental image made him crunch into his seat, mortified and speechless. His standards aren't that low.
Osman’s brow arched. “What?” he asked, voice sharp but low.
Aamirah didn’t flinch, only met his gaze, her eyes glistening with tears that betrayed far more than jealousy. “He gets to spend more time with you… than I did,” she whispered, her voice cracking like glass. “You share all your secrets with him. Not me. He knows you… better than I ever will. Even now, the first person you call… is him.”
Osman stood still, blinking, confused and caught off guard. He scanned her face, wondering, Is she on her periods? But his gaze faltered when he noticed her inners still lying carelessly on the floor, by him, her dress barely holding her composure, just like her.
YOU ARE READING
𝐂𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐝 𝐁𝐲 𝐕𝐨𝐰𝐬
Romance••• "Just because I haven't touched you as a husband should, that doesn't mean I won't," he said, his voice low and menacing. Her knees felt weak, and she didn't dare move from where she stood, his presence overwhelming her completely. She could b...
