A/N: This story is outside of the Tere Bin world --  Meerab and Murtasim are colleagues at a New York law firm—where Murtasim is the founding partner of the firm, and Meerab has worked her way up the ranks as senior partner. Behind closed doors, they may be more than colleagues - this is one of the stories where we drop in randomly without much background, and the context is all in the end! 

Note: This story contains explicit adult content and themes of dominance and submission.  Hehe. See on you on the other side!

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Meerab felt like an idiot. The plan, Rumi's foolproof plan, wasn't working. Her confidence in Rumi's assurances that Murtasim would give in, that he wouldn't be able to resist, was wavering with each passing moment.

She had risen earlier than usual to prepare, her mind buzzing with anticipation and nerves. In the bathroom, she meticulously worked on her hair, twisting it into a messy braid. She knew Murtasim detested her hair up, but he loved it when it looked tousled, almost undone. His eyes always lingered longer on her when her hair was slightly chaotic, as if the wildness hinted at something deeper, something raw and untamed.

Standing in front of her wardrobe, she had chosen a white shirt. It was one of her favorites, soft and crisp, but today, she wore it differently. Beneath it, she donned a lace push-up bra, the delicate fabric caressing her skin, she had skipped the tank top she usually wore underneath. The shirt was thick enough to conceal but thin enough to tease at the bare skin underneath. She left more buttons undone than usual, the opening dipping low enough to offer a tantalizing glimpse of her cleavage.

Rumi's voice echoed in her mind, her best friend's enthusiastic urgings during their FaceTime call. "More skin, Meerab! Show more skin!" Rumi had screamed, laughter in her voice. With a deep breath, Meerab had rolled up the sleeves to her elbows, exposing her smooth skin.

She had hesitated for a moment before slipping on a grey pencil skirt instead of her usual trousers. The skirt hugged her hips and thighs, emphasizing the curves that her loose trousers usually hid. It ended just above her knees, leaving her legs exposed, a bold departure from her conservative work attire. She completed the look with a pair of heels, the sleek black leather contrasting sharply with her bare legs.

For the final touch, she eschewed her contacts in favor of round-framed black glasses and painted her lips a bold red. The color popped against her skin, making her feel daring, almost dangerous. Rumi had declared she looked like a wet dream, a comment that had sent a thrill through her.

But now, as she sat at the large rectangular table in front of Murtasim's desk in his office - where Murtasim held meetings with the partners - she felt deflated. The meeting was wrapping up, everyone having provided updates and briefings for new cases. Murtasim remained behind his desk, engrossed in his paperwork, not once lifting his gaze to meet hers as the partners left. He had barely looked towards her during the meeting.

Meerab's frustration simmered beneath her calm exterior. She could hear the murmur of voices, the shuffling of papers, the clicking of heels against the polished floor. The scent of fresh coffee and the faint hint of Murtasim's cologne—a rich, woody fragrance that always made her heart race—filled the room.

Her skin prickled with awareness, every nerve ending hyper-alert as she sat there. The lace of her bra brushed against her skin with each breath, the tightness of the skirt a constant reminder of her daring choice. The cool air of the office touched the exposed skin of her chest and arms, sending a shiver down her spine.

She glanced around the room, taking in the polished wood of the table, the leather-bound books lining the shelves, the sleek modern art on the walls. Her eyes finally settled back on Murtasim, hoping, willing him to look at her. But he remained focused on his work, his strong, angular face set in a mask of concentration.

He wasn't looking at her, but Meerab couldn't keep her eyes off him. Murtasim wore a crisp white shirt under a charcoal vest, the sleeves rolled up to reveal his strong, muscular forearms, a classic Patek Phillipe on one wrist. The shirt fit him perfectly, accentuating his broad shoulders and slim waist. She admired the way the fabric hugged his body, of how the vest accentuated his figure and the sharpness of his jawline.

Meerab's desire for him was palpable, a physical ache that spread through her body. She wanted to climb into his lap and kiss him deeply, to feel the roughness of his beard against her skin, to cup his face in her hands, and to taste his lips on hers. She craved the sensation of his strong arms wrapped around her, the heat of his body pressed against hers, and the intoxicating pleasure of him buried deep inside her.

Yet, despite her longing, he didn't even look her way.

Others noticed her, though. She had drawn her fair share of attention that morning. She could feel their eyes on her, appreciative, curious, some even lustful. But none of it mattered if it wasn't Murtasim's gaze.

Meerab's eyes lifted when she sensed someone standing by the side of the table. It was Trevor, one of the junior partners in their law firm. His presence disrupted her thoughts, pulling her back to the present moment.

It was only then that she felt Murtasim's eyes on her. He always watched her when she interacted with other men, even if it was completely innocuous, even her colleagues weren't spared. She relished the intensity of his gaze, the way it seemed to sear into her, making her skin tingle.

The law firm was about 80% men, and that percentage was even higher if she considered only the lawyers and left out the administrative staff. There was no way to avoid them, and they both knew that.

She smiled at Trevor, arching her eyebrow. "Do you have a question?" she asked, her voice steady and professional.

As a senior partner, she co-supervised all of the newer junior partners, although most of them had been her colleagues before her recent promotion – something that didn't sit right with many of them. Trevor fidgeted nervously under her gaze.

"I – uh – no, but I – uh," he stammered.

Meerab's eyes flicked to Murtasim, finding him looking at her intently, his eyes flickering between her and Trevor. A fire spread through her body. He was finally looking. She loved how he carefully documented her movements. She had missed that lately.

Turning back to Trevor, she nodded, urging him to continue.

"Would you maybe, um, like to go out sometime? For dinner?" he finally managed to stammer out.

Her eyes darted back to Murtasim.

His dark eyes bore into hers, beseeching her to answer carefully.

But she was enjoying the attention too much to stop just yet.

Turning back to Trevor, she smiled and stood up, placing her palm on his arm. She felt him shiver at her touch and could only imagine the turmoil in his mind. She took a deep breath, letting her voice drop to a sultry tone, loud enough for Murtasim to hear.

"This shirt looks really nice on you," she said.

In truth, Trevor's shirt was mediocre at best, a dull powder blue that did nothing for him. His cologne was overwhelming, a sharp, synthetic scent that made her want to sneeze. She would probably need to sniff menthol later to clear it from her nose.

"T-thanks," he stuttered.

"Thank you for the offer, but I'll have to ask for a rain-check. You know I am piled with work." She tightened her grip on his bicep slightly, she knew he would notice.

Trevor's eyes went wide, and he nodded quickly. "Of course, I understand," he replied, his voice wavering.

Meerab released his arm, her gaze flicking back to Murtasim, who was watching them with an unreadable expression. Her heart pounded in her chest, a mix of triumph and longing swirling within her. She had his attention now, and she wasn't about to let it go.

"Miss Ahmed, there's something I'd like to discuss with you about the Callaghan file. Can you stay back?" Murtasim spoke, his voice rough, cutting through the silence that had momentarily settled in his office.

Meerab turned away from Trevor, moving to face Murtasim. His mouth was set in a hard line, his eyes blazing with jealousy. She knew that look well, and it always meant good things for her.

She nodded, and Tervor scrambled out the door, the slam echoing through the now-empty office. Meerab stood her ground, her heart pounding. She watched as Murtasim pressed two buttons on his desk. The first locked the door with a loud, definitive click. The second closed the shutters covering the glass walls of his office, shutting out the rest of the world. The same glass walls from which he usually watched her throughout the day.

Murtasim rose from his chair and walked around his desk, leaning against it with his arms crossed over his broad chest. Her eyes couldn't help but trace the lines of his muscles under the fabric of his shirt, her obsession with his physique flaring up anew.

"What was that?" he asked, his voice gruff.

His mouth was a straight line, and she could see the little vein pulsing in his temple, a clear sign of his barely contained anger.

Oh, she was going to pay for her actions, and that thought sent a shiver through her. Wetness pooled between her thighs, her panties already ruined—if she could even call the scrap of fabric she wore that.

"I don't know what you're talking about," she shrugged, feigning innocence.

"That little show of yours just now," he said, pushing himself off his desk to stand upright.

"What show?" she asked, her voice steady, though her body was anything but calm.

"Come here," he commanded, not moving from his spot.

She took the few steps needed to close the distance between them. As she approached, he stepped towards her, his presence overwhelming. Her eyes fluttered closed as the scent of his cologne enveloped her, a musky and woodsy fragrance that made her knees weak.

When she was close enough, she could feel the heat radiating from his body. Her breath hitched as she opened her eyes to find him towering over her, his dark eyes boring into hers with an intensity that made her pulse race. The air was thick with unspoken words and electric anticipation, the moment hanging between them like a taut string about to snap.

To her utter surprise, Murtasim moved, stepping behind her, his presence overwhelming. "Don't play innocent with me, Meerab," he whispered into her ear, his breath hot against her skin.

Her knees grew weak, her body reacting instantly to his proximity. His hands found her waist, fingers firm where her shirt tucked into her pencil skirt. He pulled her back against him, and she gasped, feeling his hard cock press against her ass.

A moan escaped her lips as the realization hit her – maybe he had been watching her.

"You touched him and led him on," he growled, his hands tightening around her waist. "I've told you, I don't like it when you flirt with other men," he snapped, his voice edged with possessive anger.

"Why?" she asked, breathless.

"You're mine," he muttered, the words sending a shiver down her spine.

A whimper left her lips at his declaration. The heat between them was palpable, her body responding to every word, every touch.

"Did you do all of this for him?" he asked, his teeth catching her earlobe and biting down gently. She knew he referred to her outfit, the ensemble she had chosen so carefully to tempt him.

She shook her head, her breath coming in short, ragged bursts.

He hummed, his hand trailing up from her waist to her chest, then moving to grasp her neck. He squeezed gently, pulling her head back. A gasp left her, the sensation of his hand around her throat sending waves of pleasure through her. She loved being choked, the feeling of his control.

"You've been driving me mad all morning," he spoke into her ear, his voice low and husky. "Biting those red lips, licking them while looking right at me."

A moan left her, raw and needy. "Does it bother you?" she managed to get out, her voice barely a whisper.

His hand tightened around her neck, making it harder to breathe, a delicious pressure that made her head spin. He pressed closer against her, his erection firm against her ass. "Do you feel how hard I am for you?" he asked, his voice a rough whisper.

She whimpered in response, her body trembling.

"This whole morning, all I've been thinking about is kissing your lips, sucking on them, having them wrapped around my cock, fucking that pretty little mouth of yours to shut you and your million opinions up," he whispered, his words laced with raw desire.

Meerab let out a moan as his tongue traced the shell of her ear, the sensation sending shivers through her body. She bit back a louder moan, her hands gripping the edge of his desk for support.

"What were you hoping to accomplish with this?" he asked, his hand unwrapping from around her neck, trailing down the skin left exposed by her unbuttoned shirt. "Everyone was staring at this," he muttered, running his fingers down her cleavage, making her skin tingle.

"I didn't wear it for them," she snapped, her voice sharp with frustration and desire.

He chuckled, a deep, throaty sound. "Did you wear it for me then? This shirt, and this skirt—" he groaned, his hands running down her sides. "It fucking hugs all your curves so perfectly, and those fucking heels." He groaned again, his hands gripping her hips.

"Maybe I did," was all she said, her voice a breathy whisper.

"Such a fucking tease," he muttered into her ear. "All day you've been prancing about in this, testing my self-control. Showing yourself off."

She whimpered, the sound escaping her lips involuntarily.

"And while I fucking love this," Murtasim muttered against her skin, pressing hot kisses down from her ear to her neck, his tongue licking between words, "it'd be a whole lot better if I didn't have to watch the entire male population of our firm trying to undress you with their eyes." His hands cupped her tits over her shirt, thumbs circling her nipples through the layers, driving her mad with desire.

"Please," she gasped, her voice a desperate whisper.

"Please what?" he asked, nipping at her neck, his hands squeezing her breasts possessively. "I fucking hate that every man in here was imagining doing just this, touching what's mine," he muttered into her ear.

She wondered if it was possible to orgasm just from the sound of his voice by her ear, but every word he uttered sent heat rushing through her.

"Who do you belong to?" he whispered, his breath hot against her ear.

"You," she gasped, pushing her hips back against him, grinding her ass against his hard length.

"Good girl," he whispered, before biting down at the juncture of her neck, so hard it would leave a mark.

The wetness between her legs surged, flowing freely as she gasped out his name, "Murtasimmmm."

"Are you wet for me?" he asked against her neck, his hand massaging her breasts. Her head fell back onto his shoulder, her nipples hard and aching even through the fabric.

She nodded, unable to form words.

He hummed in satisfaction. "I am going to have to punish you," he whispered, "for showing off what is mine."

"Yes," she gasped, willing to agree to anything just to keep his hands on her.

His hands fell away from her breasts, and he pushed her towards his desk. Suddenly, he forced her down against the smooth surface, her upper body and face against the cool wood, it sent a shiver through her. He pushed her skirt up past her hips, bunching it around her waist, and groaned as he exposed her ass to the cool air of his office.

"Did you do this for me as well?" he asked, his hand palming her ass, fingers trailing across her thong, a flimsy, skin-colored scrap of fabric.

She could only bite her lip, the throbbing between her legs consuming her, her body on fire.

She gasped as he struck her left ass cheek, hard, the sharp sting leaving her breathless, her eyes filling with tears.

"I asked you a question, Meerab," he said, his voice low and commanding.

"Yes," she gasped out, the word a plea.

"Good girl," he whispered. She loved the praise, especially from him, a man so reluctant to hand it out. His approval sent a wave of heat through her, intensifying her arousal.

Murtasim's fingers trailed lightly over the stinging skin of her ass before slipping beneath the thin fabric of her thong. She trembled at his touch, her breath hitching as he explored her wetness. He groaned, a deep, satisfied sound that vibrated through her.

"You're so wet," he murmured, his fingers slick with her arousal. "All this just for me?"

"Yes," she whispered, her voice shaky – she had thought of dozens of different ways he'd take her all morning.

He hummed again, his fingers teasing her entrance before plunging inside. She cried out, her body arching off the desk, every nerve ending alight with sensation. His fingers moved inside her, curling and twisting, drawing out moans and gasps.

With his free hand, he gripped her hip, holding her firmly in place. "This is what happens when you tease me," he growled, his fingers pumping in and out of her. "You make me want to claim what's mine, right here, right now."

She could only moan in response, her body trembling under his ministrations. The cool air of the office contrasted with the heat building inside her, the sensations overwhelming. She was lost in him, in his touch, in the possessive, hungry way he took control.

"Tell me who you belong to," he demanded, his fingers never slowing.

"You," she cried out, her voice breaking.

"Good girl," he whispered, his breath hot against her ear. He pressed a kiss to her neck, his tongue flicking out to taste her skin.

He pulled his fingers out of her, and she let out a sob that quickly turned into a gasp as she felt both his hands on her ass, kneading her cheeks. His fingers hooked into the sides of her panties, and with a hard yank, the fabric gave way, the sound of ripping filling the air.

Meerab moaned as he moved, positioning himself at the side of the desk. Her eyes were level with his crotch, his cock straining against his pants, she wanted it inside her. She looked up at him to find him balling up the torn fabric of her panties in his fist, his dark eyes filled with desire and anger.

"Open your mouth," he demanded, his voice rough.

She whimpered and shook her head.

He grabbed her chin firmly, forcing her to look up at him. "Open while I am asking nicely, or it's not fabric I am going to stuff into your mouth," he said pointedly.

She whimpered again but obediently opened her mouth. He stuffed the balled-up fabric, soaked in her juices, into her mouth.

"Keep it in there. We both know you can't keep quiet," he muttered as he moved back behind her.

For a moment, he didn't touch her, leaving her squirming in anticipation. The air was thick with tension, the only sounds their heavy breathing and the faint hum of the office. Then she heard the rushing of air just before his hand connected with her ass, the slap hard and sudden.

She yelped from the pain, her skin stinging, tears filling her eyes. Wetness rushed between her legs, and she could feel her thighs getting sticky.

"That was for wearing all of this and driving me insane," he muttered, his voice rough.

Another slap landed on her other cheek, harder this time, making her gasp around the fabric in her mouth.

"That's for touching another man," he growled.

He slapped the same cheek again, the pain sharp and immediate, tears spilling out of her eyes.

"And that's for biting those luscious lips while you looked at me during our meeting, making me forget my words," he said, his voice filled with dark satisfaction.

She found herself pushing her ass towards him, silently begging for more. The pain mingled with pleasure, heightening her arousal.

"Such a little whore for me," he groaned, rubbing her ass, soothing the stinging skin.

Then another slap landed on her cheek, the sharp sound echoing in the room.

"That's for showing what belongs to me to all those other men," he said, his voice possessive.

She whimpered around the fabric, her body trembling with desire and submission.

He slapped her ass again, the sting spreading through her body, making her moan.

"And that's to remind you that I own you," he said, his voice a low growl.

She nodded, her cheek rubbing against the smooth wood of the desk. The cool surface contrasted with the heat burning through her body, every nerve ending alive with sensation. She could feel the wetness pooling between her legs, her body aching for more of his touch, his dominance.

"Fuck, look at you. Your ass is just as red as your lips," Murtasim muttered, his voice filled with rough admiration.

She whimpered at his words, her body responding to the praise, as it always did. She had spent months trying to get a good job out of his mouth when she had first started at the firm.

"So perfect," he murmured, his fingers grazing her sore, heated skin. "I can feel the heat radiating off of it."

His hands trailed down to her bare pussy, his fingers running across her slit and spreading the wetness around. "You really get off on being spanked, huh?" he groaned, the sound filled with possessive pleasure.

His knees nudged her legs apart, and her body complied immediately, spreading for him.

"That's my girl. Spread for me. I want to see that pussy of yours begging for me," he muttered, his voice low and commanding.

She moaned around the fabric stuffed in her mouth, the sound muffled but filled with need. His fingers found her clit, running slow, torturous circles around it.

Her hips bucked back onto his hand, desperate for more. She wanted him inside her, needed it.

"So impatient," he teased, his fingers pushing into her again, sinking into her wet, welcoming depths.

"Who's the only man that can do this to you?" he growled, thrusting his fingers inside her hard and fast.

"You," she spoke despite the fabric in her mouth. The sound was muffled, but she knew he understood.

"Good girl, you belong to me," he said, and then she felt and heard him drop to his knees behind her.

She moaned, realizing what he was about to do. His breath was hot against her pussy, sending shivers down her spine. She closed her eyes, gasping as his tongue licked her slit, the sensation electrifying.

She felt him smile against her before he licked up and down her slit in long, slow, torturous strokes. She cried out and thrashed, begging for more through the gag.

"Shut up and stop moving, or I'll leave you here just like this while I take my meetings," he growled against her, his hands gripping her hips firmly.

She moaned but stilled, making sure to not move. The fear of him stopping kept her grounded, her feet digging into the floor to keep herself steady.

"Good girl," he whispered before lapping at her again, his tongue delving into her folds with expert precision.

The sensations were overwhelming, every lick, every touch sending waves of pleasure through her. She could feel the wetness dripping down her thighs, her body trembling with need. The taste of her soaked panties filled her mouth, a constant reminder of her submission, of how he owned her in that moment.

His tongue worked her relentlessly, licking and sucking, driving her higher and higher. Her moans were muffled but constant, her body a live wire of sensation and desire. He knew exactly how to touch her, how to bring her to the edge and keep her there, prolonging her pleasure, teasing her with the promise of release.

She gasped as he bit down on her clit, her hips bucking back against him uncontrollably.

"I told you to not move," he groaned against her, his voice vibrating through her most sensitive flesh.

And then he was gone.

She cursed herself for disobeying, the loss of his touch making her body ache with need. She gasped again as he pulled her up and turned her around to face him. In one swift motion, he yanked the panties from her mouth and crushed his lips against hers, kissing her wildly. His mouth was demanding, biting and bruising her lips, swallowing her moans with every stroke of his tongue.

She could taste herself on his tongue, a heady mix of salt and musk, and it made her feel both embarrassed and deeply aroused.

"Kneel," he growled as he pulled away, his eyes dark with lust.

She hesitated, her pussy throbbing with the need to feel him inside her.

"Don't make me ask twice," he warned, his tone leaving no room for defiance.

She fell to her knees, wincing as the hard floor bit into her skin, missing the comfort of her trousers. She whimpered as he undid his belt and pants, pulling them down along with his boxers. His huge cock sprang free, hard and straining upward against his stomach, still covered by his shirt and vest.

Her pussy clenched at the sight, desperate to be filled by him.

"I've been thinking about those lips sucking me off all morning," he said, his voice a low growl of need.

She groaned, the anticipation making her shiver. She had known what was coming when he made her kneel, but his words sent a fresh wave of arousal through her.

"Open your mouth, Meerab. It should be easy for you since you love to open it so much," he said, his tone taunting yet filled with desire.

She relaxed her jaw, letting her mouth fall open, lips parting as he stepped closer. The tip of his cock brushed against her lips, and she licked his head, tasting the salty precum. He let out a moan and gripped the back of her head, tangling his fingers in her braid.

"This fucking braid," he muttered as he pushed her head forward, forcing more of his length into her mouth. "And these glasses," he groaned.

She started sucking, bobbing her head slightly back and forth, her tongue swirling around his shaft. His grip tightened in her hair as she looked up at him, her eyes wide and filled with submission and lust. She moaned around him, sending vibrations through his cock, and he groaned in response, forcing himself deeper into her mouth. She felt him hit the back of her throat and gripped his hips to steady herself, breathing through her nose to avoid gagging.

"Maybe this is what I should do the next time you decide you want to open your mouth at a meeting and make me look like a fool," he said, thrusting into her mouth faster and harder, making her deep throat him.

His breathing became ragged as he looked down at her, her eyes watering from the intensity. "Look at your lips around my cock, so perfect, and your mouth," he groaned, speeding up. The glug-glug sound of her trying to swallow around him filled the room, mingling with his ragged breaths and her muffled moans.

He stopped as suddenly as he had started, his cock popping out of her mouth, glistening with her saliva. She gasped for air, her lips swollen and wet, her eyes still locked on his.

"Up," he commanded. Meerab barely had time to catch her breath before she was on her feet again. His hands were rough as he stuffed her panties back into her mouth, effectively silencing any protests. He pushed her back down onto the desk, her ass in the air, presenting her to him once again. She could feel his cock hard against her ass, and she ached for him to be inside her, to fill the emptiness that gnawed at her insides.

"Please," she begged, her voice muffled by the fabric in her mouth.

"Please what, Meerab?" he taunted, his voice low and teasing.

"Fuck me, please, just please fuck me," she cried out, the words barely intelligible with her mouth stuffed.

He spread her legs open, positioning himself between them. She felt the tip of his cock running along her slit, pressing just slightly into her, teasing her entrance. The sensation was almost unbearable, a hint of what she craved.

She sobbed, "Please," the sound desperate.

Without warning, he thrust into her, filling her completely, his cock plunging to the base. She screamed, the sound loud even through the gag. The sudden fullness was overwhelming, a mix of pleasure and pain that sent shivers through her body.

"Fuck, you're soaking for me," he groaned, his hands gripping her hips hard. He stilled for a moment, letting her adjust to the intrusion. But she didn't needed time to adjust. She swiveled her hips, pushing back against him, desperate for more.

"Fuck, Meerab," he groaned as he pulled back, almost entirely out of her, and then slammed back in with such force that she rocked forward into the desk. The sharp edge bit into her stomach, and she was suddenly thankful for the skirt bunched around her waist, cushioning the impact.

He did it over and over again, pulling out almost completely before slamming back in, each thrust harder and deeper than the last. It felt like he was in her throat, the sensation so intense it was almost too much.

She was sobbing, muttering "more, more, more" around the fabric in her mouth. Each thrust pushed her closer to the edge, the pleasure building with every movement.

"So fucking tight," he groaned, his pace picking up. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, mingling with their grunts and groans. It was raw, primal, the sound of rough fucking.

The coil in her stomach tightened, the pressure building to an almost unbearable level. She clenched her walls around him, knowing it would drive him crazy.

"Fuck," he grunted, grabbing her braid and pulling her head up. Her back arched, her throat muscles pulling taut as he sped up, hitting all the right spots inside her.

She was so close, her body trembling with the effort to hold on. The sensations were overwhelming, his cock driving into her, his hand tangled in her hair, the roughness of the desk against her stomach.

He thrust harder, his movements becoming more frantic. She could feel the heat radiating off him, hear the raggedness of his breath. Her own breath came in short, desperate gasps, her body tensing as the orgasm built within her, ready to explode.

The room was filled with the sounds of their coupling, the air thick with the scent of sex.

"Cum for me," he commanded, his voice a rough growl of dominance and desire.

Meerab gasped, thrusting her hips back into him, pulling him deeper into her. The sensation was overwhelming, his cock filling her completely. She sobbed as his hand connected with her ass, the sharp sting sending her over the edge.

Explosions of light burst across her closed eyes, every muscle in her body twitching as she clamped down on his cock. Her orgasm rushed through her like a tidal wave, powerful and unrelenting, she had never been denied this long before.

She heard him gasp her name, "Meerab," as he thrust into her one final time, harder than before. The intensity of it left her breathless, and then she felt him emptying inside her, filling her up with his release, thick warm ropes of cum.

They were both gasping for breath, the air thick with the scent of sweat and sex, as she came down from her high. Every inch of her skin was tingling, her body still shivering with the aftershocks of pleasure.

"Fuck, Meerab," he groaned, slipping out of her. Wetness trailed down her thighs as he pressed a kiss into her neck, his lips soft and warm against her damp skin.

She spit the panties out of her mouth, sucking in as much air as she could. He continued to press kisses into her neck and along the side of her face, his touch now gentle and soothing.

"I love you," he whispered into her ear, his voice tender.

She smiled, turning her head to capture his lips in a soft kiss. "Are you still angry?" she asked as he helped her stand up. Her legs were shaky, barely able to support her weight after the intensity of their encounter.

She looked into his eyes, loving how they looked post-orgasm—bright and dazed, no longer glaring at her, no longer mad – or she hoped, this is all it usually took, fucking like animals for them to forgive and move on.

"I should be," he sighed, his expression softening.

"I really am sorry," she muttered, feeling a pang of guilt. She knew she had messed up. He hadn't talked to her for a whole week, hadn't kissed her, hadn't touched her.

He sighed, cupping her face in his hands, his thumb rubbing her cheek tenderly. "Do not challenge me in a meeting like that in front of clients ever again. In here, when we're alone, do whatever the fuck you want—yell at me, tell me I'm wrong, tell me I'm stupid for not considering something. I don't care, I'll listen. But when you fight me in front of clients, it makes us both look bad," he said, his voice firm but not unkind.

She nodded, knowing she had fucked up. "I got carried away. I am sorry," she repeated, her voice small and sincere.

He nodded, leaning down to press a kiss into her forehead. The gesture was soft, reassuring, a promise that things were okay between them again.

"Are you okay? I wasn't too hard on you, was I?" he asked, concern softening the stern edge of his voice. This was the side of Murtasim only she knew, the man behind the powerful facade he presented to the world.

She nodded, her breath still coming in uneven gasps. "I am fine."

He cupped her face in his hands and kissed her gently, making her smile against his lips. The tender gesture was a stark contrast to the intensity of moments before.

As he pulled away, she grabbed his collar, pulling him back slightly. "Ignore me for that long again and I swear I'll kill you before the wedding even happens."

He rolled his eyes but nodded, understanding the unspoken promise behind her words. His hand trailed to her neck, his fingers finding the chain of her necklace. He pulled it out from under her shirt, revealing the ring he had placed on her finger months ago. It shone brightly, a symbol of commitment.

"I can't wait until they all know you're mine," he whispered, his eyes locked on hers.

"And you're mine," she muttered, her voice filled with equal parts love and possession.

He grinned and nodded. "Just a few more weeks," she smiled, the thought of their impending wedding filling her with happiness. "And then no one is going to say I fucked my way up to a promotion," she grinned, a touch of defiance in her voice.

"They still will," he muttered, his tone darkening slightly.

It had been a mutual decision to hide their relationship. The corporate world was brutal for women, and Meerab was acutely aware of the harsh judgments she would face. She knew it was her hard work, late nights, and dedication that had earned her the position of senior partner. However, once the world knew she was with Murtasim, the founding partner, every single one of her accomplishments would be dismissed. The whispered rumors and sidelong glances would write off her achievements as merely the result of sleeping her way to the top. She refused to let anyone undermine her professional integrity or the respect she had fought so hard to earn.

"Haan, but then I'll be your wife—technically half-owner of this firm, so does it really matter?" she grinned.

She had made peace with the fact that she would deal with whispers and the unjust assumptions when the truth came out. The truth was, his love and their future together were far more important than the opinions of those who didn't know her struggle or her worth. She had worked tirelessly to get where she was, and though she knew the world might try to diminish her achievements, the knowledge that Murtasim valued and respected her was enough – he got mad at the world on her behalf, he hated that her hard work would be questioned more than she did on most days. In the end, being with him, building a life together, mattered more than any fleeting judgment.

He laughed, the sound deep and warm. "I guess not." He pressed a kiss to her nose, the gesture playful and affectionate.

"I love you," she smiled, cupping his face, her heart swelling with joy that he was finally talking to her again.

He grinned, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her close as he tugged her skirt back down. She playfully whacked his chest. "You ripped my panties again."

"I buy you most of them," he grinned, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

She rolled her eyes. "What do I do now?"

"You sit at your desk, just like this, no panties, with my cum leaking out of you, and think about how hard I am going to fuck you when we get home to make up for all the days I missed," he muttered, his voice low and commanding.

A whimper left her lips at his words, the promise of more making her shiver with anticipation.

"I have to go home and pack," she told him, needing to gather her things if she was staying over at his place.

He shook his head. "You won't need any clothes."

She rolled her eyes again, whacking his chest lightly. "Go back to work."

"I was trying to work when someone walked into the office looking like a wet dream," he muttered.

She giggled at his words, realizing that Rumi had been right. The plan had worked, maybe too well.

He kissed her again, his lips soft and warm against hers, swallowing her giggles.

He groaned softly as he pulled away a little, his eyes dark with lingering desire. "I missed your laugh."

"I missed you," she smiled, her heart full.

"I missed you more," he grinned, the words a promise and a reassurance all at once.

"Have lunch with me?" She asked, she had missed eating with him. "I have so much to tell you!" It was a whole week's worth of stories, she would talk a mile a minute and he would listen affectionately.

He nodded, "something important has come up Miss Ahmed, we'll need to work through lunch, see you at 1pm."

She laughed, nodding. "Work definitely comes first, Mr. Khan." 

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A/N: Sooooo, what do you think?! What was your favourite part? 

This chapter is a bit of me testing the waters to see how things will go when I start posting fics that are not constrained by the world presented in Tere Bin (i.e., where we have two characters from religious families that follow certain norms). So feedback, thoughts, etc are much appreciated!