The bedroom was shrouded in shadows, the soft glow of the moon barely filtering through the heavy curtains. The air was thick, still, a deceptive calm blanketing the room. Murtasim slept soundly, his broad chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm, his face relaxed in peaceful slumber. Beside him, Meerab lay awake, her mind restless. She watched him sleep, her eyes tracing the sharp angles of his jaw, the slight furrow in his brow even as he dreamed.
There was a stirring inside her tonight—a mischievous, wicked thought that wouldn’t leave her alone. Murtasim was always the one in control, the one who set the pace, dictated the terms of their passion. But tonight, she wanted to shift the power, to do something that would unsettle him, make him lose that iron grip of control he always held so firmly.
The idea formed slowly at first, creeping into her thoughts, until she couldn’t ignore it anymore. Her heart raced at the audacity of it, but a smirk tugged at the corners of her lips. She was going to push him, see how far she could go before that calm façade cracked.
Quietly, Meerab slid down the bed, her movements deliberate and silent. Murtasim didn’t stir, completely unaware of what she was about to do. The thrill of it sent a shiver down her spine, anticipation building inside her as she positioned herself at his waist. The room was silent, save for the sound of her own heartbeat thudding in her ears.
With a delicate hand, she tugged at the waistband of his pajama pants, carefully pulling them down just enough to expose him. Her eyes lingered on him for a moment, her breath catching at the sight. She could feel the heat radiating from his body, and a surge of excitement rushed through her veins. Leaning in, she brushed her lips against him, featherlight at first, testing the waters.
Murtasim shifted slightly in his sleep, a low groan escaping his throat, but he didn’t wake. His body, however, responded to her touch, the reaction unmistakable. The thrill of power coursed through her, emboldening her to continue. Meerab’s lips wrapped around him more fully now, her movements slow and deliberate, teasing, as she worked him with a careful rhythm.
The tension in the room began to shift, her bold actions pulling him out of his sleep. His brow furrowed deeper, and his breath hitched. He was waking up, but Meerab didn’t stop. She wanted to catch him off guard, to watch the shock in his eyes when he realized what was happening.
Murtasim’s eyes fluttered open, confusion clouding them as he tried to make sense of the sensations coursing through his body. His breathing was uneven, and his head turned slightly, trying to see what she was doing. When his gaze finally landed on her, his eyes darkened instantly with both surprise and desire.
“Meerab…” His voice was thick, rough with sleep and confusion, but there was a sharp edge to it, a mix of curiosity and warning.
Meerab paused for a moment, her eyes meeting his, but instead of stopping, she smirked. There was a dangerous glint in her gaze as she held his stare, then she leaned in again, her lips enveloping him with more enthusiasm now, her movements more confident, more deliberate.
Murtasim’s breath hitched again, this time sharper, his muscles tensing. His hand instinctively shot down, gripping the sheets for control. The soft groan that escaped his lips was filled with both frustration and pleasure. He was always the one to lead, always the one in charge. But now, Meerab was taking control, and the thought of it made his blood run hotter.
Her tongue flicked against him, and Murtasim clenched his jaw, his eyes narrowing. He wanted to stop her, to regain that dominance he was so used to, but the way she was moving, the way she was working him, it was driving him to the brink. He couldn’t think clearly; all he could feel was the intensity of her actions.
