Author's Note: The new YumHaj pictures from their tour had me in a chokehold, so you all get a third chapters for HAFS. It's over 16K words! I am glad so many of you loved HAFS - the comments made me laugh and squeal so much. I hope you like this part just as much. Just a heads up that this part happens BEFORE their engagement which we saw at the end of the last chapter.

Note: This part is heavy on the mature stuff, lots of smut! Read at your own discretion!

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Meerab stood by the departures gate at the airport, her fingers drumming lightly on the handle of her rose gold carry-on. Beside it was a classic Rimowa aluminum carry-on, Murtasim's. She glanced at her watch, her foot tapping impatiently. Murtasim was getting off a flight from New York, sending the carry-on he had taken back to his apartment, and running over from arrivals to departures to catch their flight to Dallas.

It had been the longest time they had been apart since that fateful night in his office, a night that had propelled them headfirst into a relationship that defied her expectations. It made no sense, yet it made all the sense in the world to her. It was easy, something she didn't expect with Murtasim, but they were so good together it was a little scary.

It had less than two months – 7 weeks and one day to be exact - and she was terrified she would let an "I love you" slip out either as he fucked her into his mattress multiple times a week or when he kissed her nose and pulled back with that cute smile on his face. That wasn't her style—she was the type to think things through, to mull over her feelings for months. Yet here she was, less than two months into a relationship she never saw coming, and she was head over heels.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sight of Murtasim rushing through the doors. Her face lit up, and her heart thumped with joy. In that instant, she noticed everything—the way his white shirt clung to his muscular frame, the slight flush on his cheeks from hurrying, his dark neatly styled hair that she had missed running her fingers through, his well-groomed beard that framed his face in a way that was both rugged and gentle. He looked so undeniably handsome, and she couldn't help but feel a rush of gratitude that this wonderful man was hers.

She waved, waiting for him to spot her in the crowd. The moment their eyes met, a wide grin spread across his face. His expression softened, and his eyes crinkled at the corners, showing that adorable combination of relief and happiness. It was a look that seemed reserved only for her, one that made her feel like the most cherished person in the world.

Without thinking, Meerab found herself almost running towards him. The world around her seemed to blur as she focused solely on reaching him. She threw her arms around his shoulders, feeling the solid strength of his body against hers.

Murtasim's arms wrapped around her waist, lifting her slightly off the ground as he pulled her into a tight embrace. The sensation of being enveloped in his warmth was overwhelming. He pressed a tender kiss into her hair, his lips lingering there for a moment longer than necessary.

She inhaled deeply, savoring his familiar scent—a comforting mix of his cologne, a hint of fresh soap, and something uniquely Murtasim. She could feel the steady thump of his heart against her chest, mirroring the rhythm of her own.

"Meerab," he whispered, his voice filled with a mixture of relief and happiness. His breath was warm against her ear, sending shivers down her spine. "I missed you," he whispered.

She pulled back slightly, looking up at him with a smile. She loved the way his eyes roamed over her face, drinking her in as if he hadn't seen her in years.

She giggled when he leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to her nose, like he always did. It was such a sweet, affectionate gesture that it made her feel giddy inside. Her fingers moved to the back of his head, scratching lightly at his scalp in a way she knew he loved. She felt the slight shiver of pleasure run through him in response, and it made her grin wider.

"The right response to what I said is 'I missed you too,'" he teased, pulling her closer.

She shrugged playfully. "Maybe I was happy you weren't here to annoy me at work."

"Ouch, you poked my heart," he pouted, echoing a line from a reel she had sent him the previous night. She snickered.

"You can kiss it better," he suggested.

She leaned in and pressed a kiss to his shirt, right over where his heart was. He chuckled.

"Now you have New York germs on you!" he teased.

She rolled her eyes, trying to step away, but he held her tighter, his grip firm.

"Tell me you missed me," he said softly, his eyes searching hers.

She shook her head, biting her lower lip to keep from laughing.

"Meerab," he sighed dramatically.

"Okay, okay. I missed you...just a little," she lied, knowing she had missed him more than she could admit.

"Fine then, I won't give you your gifts," he said, a teasing glint in his eye.

"Gifts?" she asked, her interest piqued as she noticed the small bag in his hand for the first time.

"Nope, none for you. Only for people who missed me," he said, stepping back slightly.

She whined, holding him tighter and pouting up at him. "Murtasimmmm," she drew out his name in a way that always made him smile.

He sighed, a soft smile playing on his lips. "You're so cute," he said, leaning in to peck her lips.

Meerab smiled, looking up at him and then his lips, pursing hers for another kiss. He sighed but gave in, their kiss starting off slow and sweet. His lips were soft and warm against hers. But then, that familiar fire between them roared to life. The kiss deepened, his hand cupping the back of her head, fingers threading through her hair. She responded eagerly, her arms tightening around his shoulders as if to pull him even closer.

She could feel his breath quicken, matching the rapid beat of her own heart. Her tongue brushed against his, igniting sparks that spread throughout her body. She had always thought she hated public displays of affection, but here she was, sucking his face in the middle of a busy airport departures terminal, and she couldn't care less.

She could hear the murmurs and feel the stares of passersby, but all that mattered was the way he kissed her, the way his body pressed against hers, making her forget the world around them.

Finally, they broke apart, both of them breathless and a little dazed. Meerab's lips tingled, and she swore she could still taste him. As he pulled away, she whispered, "I did miss you, a whole lot."

His face lit up at her confession, and Meerab couldn't help but marvel at the sight before her. His smile was broad, crinkling the corners of his eyes in that endearing way she adored.

It was a smile she had come to realize was reserved just for her. She had seen him smile at others—polite, friendly, professional—but never like this. This smile, full of unguarded happiness and affection, was hers alone. It made her heart swell with warmth, knowing she could elicit such a reaction from him.

He pushed a strand of hair behind her ear before finally pulling away, his eyes trailing down her form and her brown dress.

"You look prettier," he said with a grin.

She giggled. "You're such a flirt."

"You missed it."

She shrugged, eyeing the bag in his hand. "What'd you get me?"

He handed her the bag, and she gasped in delight. "Levain cookies!" she exclaimed, pulling out the familiar bags.

"Your favorite, dark chocolate peanut butter chip," he said, smiling.

"Murtasimmmm!" she squealed happily. "You're the best."

"If that's all it took, I could have just gotten you a cookie a long time ago," he sighed with exaggerated regret.

She dug deeper into the bag and her eyes widened. "Banana pudding!" she squealed as she found the Magnolia Bakery tub. "You remembered!"

She had mentioned that it was one of her favourite things in New York, just once in passing. She had asked him to get her a cookie, but not the pudding.

He grinned as she got up on her tiptoes, pressing a kiss to his cheek. "Thank you. How'd you get this through security in a carry-on?" she asked, knowing it was over 100ml.

"I froze it until the moment I got it, even in the Uber to the airport, then I threw away the ice-packs, wrapped the tub in my sock and rushed through security, so it got through," he grinned, obviously impressed with himself.

She raised an eyebrow, smirking. "Such a genius."

He puffed out his chest playfully. "That's why you're so hot for me."

She laughed, shaking her head. "Yeah, your brain is definitely the reason," she teased.

"And my - ."

"Don't say it." She warned, knowing the next word was either going to be mouth, fingers, or dick, the odds were heavily in favour of the last.

He smirked.

"We have to eat it before we go in, though!" she said excitedly, holding up the tub.

"We? You're going to share?" he teased.

She rolled her eyes. "Not if you tease me about it."

He laughed, looking over at their carry-ons. "Thank you for packing mine."

She smiled. "You're welcome. I picked the ugliest things I could find in your closet," she teased, though his closet really had no ugly clothes. "Especially your superhero boxers," she teased again.

He sighed. "They were a gift."

"Which is even weirder. Why would someone gift you boxers? Was it a girlfriend?" she asked, trying to sound nonchalant.

He grinned. "Why? Are you jealous?"

"No," she replied, a little too quickly.

He snickered, "it was a Secret Santa thing."

"Boxers?!" That was odd.

"Apparently it was a present everyone could use, lots of people got socks too." He said.

"Men." She sighed.

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Meerab's heart raced as the plane ascended, the hum of the engines mingling with the soft murmur of passengers. The dim cabin lights cast a cozy glow over the rows of seats. Most of the passengers were strangers, thankfully, as the majority of the PearTech workers had taken an earlier flight. Murtasim had a reason for missing it, and she had made up an excuse, knowing it would be hard to spend time with her boyfriend on a work trip since they didn't want people to know about them. They were headed to Dallas where PearTech was announcing a major partnership that required their presence. It was their first work trip together since they had gotten together.

She glanced at Murtasim seated beside her. Business class had been filled on the small domestic flight since they had opted out of traveling with the rest, leaving them in economy. He didn't seem to mind, though. His dark hair was slightly tousled, and his sharp jawline was relaxed as he leaned back in his seat. She admired how effortlessly handsome he looked, even in the simple setting of an airplane.

As the seatbelt light went off, Murtasim leaned in, a wicked glint in his eye, and whispered suggestively, "We should join the mile-high club."

She rolled her eyes, trying to focus on her in-flight entertainment—a movie she knew she wouldn't finish. "You're rich, use it, private jet or nothing," she muttered, trying to hide the smile tugging at her lips.

"Fuck." He groaned, adjusting himself in his seat.

She caught the movement from the corner of her eye and grinned. It honestly took nothing to get him hard for her—she reveled in it greatly.

His breath was warm against her ear as he whispered, "Why are you wearing a dress if we're not joining the mile-high club?"

His fingers trailed up her legs, sending shivers down her spine. She slapped his hand away, feeling the heat rising to her cheeks. "Because we're going to a dinner with our co-workers as soon as we land."

He sighed, and was about to say something when a stewardess appeared. "Would you like something to drink?" she spoke to Murtasim only, blinking her lashes multiple times.

"Princess, would you like something?" Murtasim asked, turning to her.

Princess? She glared at Murtasim.

He winked before turning to the stewardess who was now looking between the two of them. "Coca-Cola, with ice for me. Orange Soda, no ice for my girlfriend," he said.

He was so hot when he did that. It was a constant thing; whenever they went anywhere, women hit on him, and he made it a point to say, "my girlfriend." She hadn't thought Murtasim Khan would be cute like that, but he was. He had that perfect mix of rugged handsomeness and boyish charm, like some sort of swoon-worthy rom-com hero.

She thought about all the cute little things he did that made her melt. Like the way he would press a soft kiss to her nose all the time, making her giggle every time. Or how he would lay his head in her lap while she was working, looking up at her with those soulful eyes, making it impossible for her to concentrate on anything other than running her fingers through his hair and kissing him. Then there were the quiet moments, like when he'd sneak up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist and resting his chin on her shoulder. His breath tickling her neck, whispering random mundane things into her ear, but it still made her heart flutter.

The stewardess poured them their drinks and grinned at Murtasim again. "Let me know if you need anything else, I'm Jessica." She grinned before going to the seats behind them.

"I'm Jessica." Meerab mocked, rolling her eyes.

Murtasim snickered, sipping on his soda.

The flight settled into a comfortable rhythm, the steady hum of the engines a soothing backdrop.

Meerab felt Murtasim's gaze on her, his eyes dark with unspoken desire. She shifted in her seat, her mind replaying his suggestive words – mile high club. She had always prided herself on being composed and logical – logical people didn't have sex on an airplane where anyone could hear them. The chances of getting caught were extremely high, and they would end up arrested, and she'd have to change her name and live on a deserted island somewhere – with no WiFi and lattes.

But then, there was Murtasim, sitting there looking like sin incarnate, making her question every bit of her sanity. Something about him ignited a fire within her that was hard to control. Logical people didn't get involved with someone who could make them spontaneously combust just by looking at them – but logic had flown out the window the night they first fucked.

She mentally chastised herself. Get a grip, Meerab. You are a professional. Professionals do not get caught with their pants - dress down – literally – on a plane.

Think of the headlines. 'PearTech Business Executives Arrested for In-Flight Shenanigans.'

Or worse, 'PearTech Execs Take 'Cloud Computing' Too Far, Get Grounded for Mile High Mischief'.

But then there was that spark in his eyes, the one that promised all kinds of trouble. The kind of trouble that made her want to throw caution, logic, and maybe even a bit of dignity to the wind.

She could almost hear the airport intercom now: "Passenger Meerab Ahmed, you are requested to stop being an absolute horndog immediately."

He shifted slightly, and her mind spiraled further.

Oh, God. What if he really tries? What if he actually drags me into that tiny bathroom? How will we even fit? What if someone hears us? Oh, right. Someone will definitely hear us. And then, I'll die. That's it. That's how I go out. Not with a bang – okay, technically with a bang – but not the kind of bang I envisioned for my grand exit from this world.

She sneaked a glance at him, and there he was, grinning like he knew exactly what kind of chaotic storm he was brewing in her head. Damn him and his stupid, sexy smirk.

His hands were relaxed on the armrests, but she knew better. She could feel the tension radiating off him, a silent promise of what he wanted to do.

She could almost hear the playful thoughts running through his mind, like, "How much trouble can I get us into without getting arrested?"

"Murtasim," she whispered, her voice barely audible over the hum of the plane.

"Hmm?" He turned to her, eyes gleaming.

"Don't try anything," she said, though her own resolve was weakening faster than a snowman in July.

He chuckled softly, leaning in so his lips brushed her ear. "You love it when I do."

Her breath hitched, a rush of heat spreading through her. His proximity was intoxicating. She bit her lip, trying to maintain her composure. Her brain was screaming, "Abort mission! Maintain professionalism!" but her body was singing a completely different tune.

"Meerab," he murmured, his hand finding her knee, thumb drawing slow circles on her skin. "You know you want to."

She shivered, torn between the desire to keep their relationship discreet and the overwhelming urge to feel his touch. The plane offered a sense of anonymity, the low lights and soft chatter creating a cocoon around them. Plus, what was it about flying that made everything seem like a good idea?

If there was one thing she had always known about Murtasim, it was that he was persistent. He moved closer, his knee pressing against hers, and her resolve began to waver. She tried to remind herself that logical people didn't do this. Logical people watched movies and pretended their hot, persistent boyfriends weren't trying to turn them into felons mid-flight.

"Not sex then, let me touch you, no one would know," he whispered in her ear, his breath warm and teasing. "We're at the back in front of a bulkhead, the seats in the middle are empty."

He wasn't wrong. Her eyes darted around, half-expecting someone to pop up and scream, "Caught you!" But it was just them, and he was so close, smelling so good, looking so irresistible.

And it had been a whole week – an entire seven days, for crying out loud. He had completely ruined her with regular sex. It was like her body had gone from zero to addicted in record time, and now it was staging a full-blown rebellion.

She could practically hear it screaming, Come on, Meerab, just one little touch! We're dying over here! Her logical brain was trying to maintain control, but her traitorous body was chanting, Murtasim, Murtasim, Murtasim, like a crazed fan club.

She tried. She really did. "Murtasim," she warned, trying to sound stern but failing miserably. Her brain was practically short-circuiting, every alarm bell going off, but her body was having none of it.

"I am bored," he whispered, his voice laced with a playful whine.

"Watch a movie," she muttered, eyes fixed on the screen in front of her, though she knew she wouldn't be able to focus. The words on the screen might as well have been hieroglyphics for all the attention she was paying.

"I haven't touched you for a whole week," he whined softly, his tone making her heart flutter.

His fingers inched higher, sending waves of heat through her.

He hadn't. And the truth was, she missed his touch just as much. Logical people didn't do this. Logical people didn't let their boyfriends turn them into puddles of wanton desire mid-flight. But then again, logical people didn't have a Murtasim Khan who fucked them into the mattress and everywhere else in his penthouse multiple times a week.

Her mind went on a wild, steamy tangent. On his bed, she'd be on all fours with him behind her, pulling her hair as she screamed so loud she was sure the whole building could hear. Against the kitchen counter, her legs wrapped around his waist as he pounded into her, the cold surface contrasting with the heat of their bodies. In the shower, water cascading over their bodies as he pinned her to the wall, his thrusts hard and relentless, the steam and slick tiles making everything more intense.

In the living room, he'd bend her over the back of the couch, spanking her ass before driving into her, her moans echoing off the walls. In his office, she'd ride him on his swivel chair, the desk rattling with every movement as she bounced on his cock, their eyes locked in a heated gaze. Even in the hallway, she'd be pressed against the wall, her cries loud he took her urgently, their need for each other overriding all sense of restraint.

She was spiraling, her brain running through every possible scenario where he had her completely at his mercy. She could almost hear an imaginary version of herself giving a dramatic monologue: Oh, the scandal! The passion! The utter lack of self-control!

He had been gone for a week, and she was only human.

Her legs opened slightly, a silent invitation she couldn't control.

"Hmmm, good girl," he murmured into her ear, his voice dripping with approval.

He draped a blanket over their laps, his eyes flicking around to ensure they were hidden. His hand, his left rather than his right since he was in the aisle seat, disappeared under the blanket, fingers slipping beneath the fabric of her brown silk dress.

Meerab gasped as his fingers brushed against her thigh, moving higher until they found the lace between her legs. Her mind was a chaotic mess, part of her screaming, Stop this madness! while the other part was egging him on, practically throwing confetti.

The angle was a little awkward, but she knew he'd make it work. Logical people might have concerns about the practicality of this, but logical people didn't have a Murtasim Khan – giver of orgasms, anytime, every time.

"Be quiet," he warned, his fingers slipping under her panties. Her mind screamed a hundred reasons why this was a terrible idea, but her body was betraying her at every turn.

He found her clit, circling it gently, teasing her. She bit her lip to stifle a moan as he pressed down on it, before flicking it gently.

"I rather like economy seats," he muttered into her ear as he continued circling her clit. "There'd be too much between us in business class."

She rolled her eyes, her breath hitching as he increased the pressure. Of course, he'd find a silver lining in economy class. Next, he'd be suggesting the cramped bathroom like it was a five-star suite.

"Don't roll your eyes at me like that, or I might just drag you into the cramped bathroom and fuck you."

She whimpered, the thought sending a thrill through her – what were the chances they would get arrested? And if they did, how would she explain that to the people who knew her?

He chuckled in her ear. "Do you think you can get off with just this?" He said as he rubbed her clit in circles. She could feel the wetness pooling due to his ministrations.

"I don't know." She muttered, her legs opening more under the blanket – she was sure there was a big sign flashing over her seat yelling horny bitch here.

"Do you miss me inside you?" He whispered into her ear.

She bit her lip to hold back a moan and nodded.

Missed you inside me? Of course! How do you go from being stuffed by a huge cock multiple times a week to nothing?

He stopped then, his hands stilling but not moving away, as someone got up from their seat to walk towards the bathroom. His fingers moved again as the door to the bathroom locked close, two sliding into her with ease, the angle awkward, but his palm rubbed her clit as he moved his fingers.

"Good?" He asked.

Good? Good? I would fucking climb into your lap and ride you if I wasn't scared of getting caught.

She hummed and then bit her lip as he rubbed her clit with the heel of his palm while his fingers moved. It was torture. He moved slowly, for a long time. Whenever a flight attendant walked by or a passenger shifted in their seat, he would pause, his fingers still inside her, causing her to bite back a whimper. As soon as the coast was clear, he resumed, his fingers working her closer to the edge.

For a whole hour of their three-and-a-half-hour flight, his long, thick fingers teased her, playing with her clit, sliding into her, sending electric jolts of pleasure through her body. She had missed them terribly—the way they stretched her, filled her, and found all the right spots that made her toes curl and her breath hitch.

Murtasim's fingers moved expertly, their familiarity with her body evident in every deliberate stroke and caress. The roughness of his fingertips against her sensitive skin drove her wild, his touch both gentle and demanding. His palm pressed against her clit, rubbing in time with the thrusts of his fingers, creating a delicious friction that had her writhing in her seat, desperately trying to stay silent.

"Please," she whispered, no longer being able to take the slow torture.

He grinned as she looked over at him, the wicked glint in his eyes making her heart race. He curled his fingers inside her, hitting that perfect spot that made her toes curl and her mind go blank with pleasure. She clutched his arm, her knuckles turning white as she fought to stay silent, biting her lip so hard she thought she might draw blood.

"You like that?" he whispered, his fingers moving faster, deeper, each thrust sending shockwaves of pleasure through her.

She nodded, her eyes squeezed shut as waves of pleasure washed over her. God, yes, she liked that. She loved that. She had missed him so much.

How had she gone a week without this? Was she crazy? Did she have a death wish? She added "self-inflicted deprivation" to her list of idiotic decisions.

He added another finger, stretching her further, filling her completely. The heel of his hand pressed against her clit, rubbing in perfect rhythm with the thrusts of his fingers. She was on the brink, teetering on the edge of release, the pleasure building to an almost unbearable level.

"Shh, stay quiet," he reminded her, his voice low and commanding.

She could only nod, her breath coming in ragged gasps as he pushed her closer and closer to the edge. She wondered if everyone on the plane had somehow developed super hearing and was about to turn around and see her in this compromising position.

Finally, she couldn't hold back any longer. Her body tensed, her walls clenching around his fingers as she came, her orgasm washing over her in waves of pleasure. She bit her lip hard, stifling the scream that threatened to escape, her entire body shuddering with the intensity of her release.

Murtasim continued to move his fingers inside her, prolonging her pleasure, drawing out every last bit of her orgasm. When she finally came down from the high, he withdrew his fingers, pulling her panties back into place and adjusting her dress. He grinned at her as he moved his hand out from under the blanket, bringing his fingers to his mouth and sucking them clean, his eyes never leaving hers.

She whimpered and then leaned in to whisper in his ear. "We're going to fuck in the rental car before getting to the hotel and going to dinner."

"Fuck." He groaned.

Her thoughts raced wildly. All she wanted to do was straddle him right then and there, ride him hard until she saw stars. Jessica could watch as she bounced on his cock, see how he screamed her name, a testament to who he belonged to. All the women from the office who hit on him could witness how he whimpered and groaned her name, how he was utterly and completely hers.

She shook herself out of it, momentarily stunned by her own possessiveness. When did she become so fiercely protective of him? The intensity of her feelings both thrilled and unnerved her.

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The rental car, a sleek Mercedes GLC, glided smoothly along the quiet back road, the soft purr of the engine the only sound breaking the stillness. Murtasim's grip on the steering wheel tightened, his knuckles turning white as Meerab's hand remained on his cock, teasing and rubbing him through his slacks. The anticipation had been building since she had seen him, and now, finally alone, the tension was about to snap, better in the car than in front of their colleagues.

As soon as he found a secluded spot, Murtasim pulled over, the tires crunching on the gravel. Before the car had even come to a complete stop, Meerab unbuckled her seatbelt and climbed into his lap, her knees on either side of his hips. They knew how to do this; on many nights, they didn't make it home after a date, finding a quiet street and fucking in his Range Rover.

It was their little secret, their adrenaline-fueled escapades that added a thrilling edge to their relationship.

She could practically hear a dramatic soundtrack in the background, the kind that played in steamy romance movies just before things got really heated.

He pushed his seat back as far as it would go, creating as much space as possible in the car. She wasted no time, her fingers deftly unbuttoning his slacks and pushing them down with his boxers, just enough for his cock to spring free, hard and aching from her teasing touch.

Meerab's breath hitched as she hiked up her dress, the silky fabric rustling as she bunched it around her waist. With one hand, she moved her panties to the side, exposing her slick folds, ready and eager for him. The anticipation made her heart race, her whole body humming with need.

"I love dresses," he groaned, his voice thick with desire.

She positioned herself over him, her other hand guiding his cock to her entrance. She could feel the heat radiating from him, the hard length of him throbbing in her hand. Slowly, she began to sink down onto him, her slickness enveloping him inch by inch. The stretch was exquisite, the way he filled her so completely after a week apart almost overwhelming. She was sure he had ruined her for anything and anyone else. Seriously, how did she go from living a sexless life to craving it every other day?

As she took him deeper, they both moaned, the sound mingling with the heavy breathing and the soft hum of the car's engine. The car's interior was filled with the scent of their arousal, the windows beginning to fog up. Her body adjusted to him, the familiar yet intoxicating sensation of being filled by him making her head spin.

The leather seats creaked under their combined weight, the subtle noises adding to the symphony of their lovemaking. She could feel every ridge and vein of his cock as she moved, her inner walls clenching around him in welcome. The heat between them was palpable, each thrust sending shivers down her spine.

"Meerab," he groaned, his hands gripping her hips tightly, his fingers digging into her flesh as he helped guide her movements. "Fuck, I've missed you. I've missed this pussy."

She gasped at his words, her body responding with even more intensity. "I've missed you too," she breathed, her voice trembling. "You've turned me into a sex fiend. I missed this."

He thrust up into her, his grip tightening. "Just my cock?" he teased, a wicked grin on his face.

She moaned, rocking her hips against him. "Mostly your cock," she admitted with a sly smile, her eyes half-lidded with pleasure. She couldn't get enough of how perfect he felt inside her.

Murtasim chuckled, his lips finding hers in a hard, demanding kiss. His tongue plunged into her mouth, mimicking the rhythm of his thrusts. She kissed him back with equal fervor, her fingers threading through his hair, pulling him closer. She couldn't get enough of him, this sex god who had somehow landed in her lap—literally.

As she moved on top of him, the car rocked slightly, the suspension groaning under the strain, the windows fogging up. The sounds of their passion filled the confined space—the wet, slick noises of their bodies coming together, the muted thud of the car's frame, and the mingled moans and gasps of pleasure.

Each thrust, each movement, sent waves of pleasure coursing through her, building her up higher and higher. Meerab's hands roamed over his chest, feeling the hard planes of his muscles beneath his shirt. She loved how strong he felt, how solid he was beneath her. His fingers moved to the straps of her dress, pulling them down her arms, pulling down the cups of her bra, and then his mouth was on her tits, sucking her nipples, biting and pulling like she loved.

Oh, she loved his mouth. If he weren't a tech genius, he could've made millions just teaching classes on how to use that mouth – with her as the subject of course, just her, no one else!

"Fuck, you feel so good," he groaned as she rocked on his cock, clenching her inner walls around him.

His words sent a thrill through her, making her clench around him even tighter. She rode him harder, her hips moving in a frantic rhythm, desperate to reach that peak of pleasure. "I need more," she gasped, her voice breaking with need.

Oh god, why did he have to be so perfect? Why did his cock have to fit her like a custom-made glove?

Murtasim's hands moved down to her ass, squeezing and guiding her movements as he thrust up into her. "This? Or more?" he asked.

She whimpered, her body trembling. "More."

He groaned, and then he was opening the car door, making her whine as he slipped out of her and got out of the car.

Come back.

The rush of warmer air hit her exposed skin, sending a shiver through her body. But then he was moving her, positioning her until her upper body lay on the leather seat of the car. Her feet touched the unpaved road under them, her ass out in the air as he stood behind her.

She gasped out, "Murtasim," as he thrust into her hard and fast, his hands grabbing her hips with a grip so tight she knew it would leave marks. Each thrust was powerful and precise, driving into her with a force that made her sob with pleasure. The cold air-conditioned leather pressed against her breasts, her nipples rubbing back and forth with every movement, adding another layer of sensation.

He groaned loudly, his words louder than the sound of their skin slapping together. "I am going to remember this when we sit down for dinner," he growled, fucking her harder. Her hands clutched the gearbox for support, her knuckles white from the strain.

"What?" she gasped, loving it when he used his words.

"You holding onto the gearbox, your ass red from my thighs hitting it again and again," he sped up as he spoke, his thighs slapping against her ass repeatedly, "my cock disappearing into you like this." He fucked her deep, pushing his cock in as far as it would go, making her whimper loudly.

The sensation was overwhelming. The rough texture of the leather, the way her nipples ached from the constant friction, the air against her heated skin—it all added to her pleasure. She could feel every inch of him, the thick, hard length of him driving into her, filling her completely. Each thrust sent shockwaves through her, her body arching and trembling with the intensity of it all.

"Your screams and moans, your head thrashing like this—and how hot and wet you are around me," he told her as he sped up.

She was screaming his name over and over again, her voice raw with need. He thrust into her harder, faster, driving her to the edge. "Cum for me, Meerab," he commanded, his voice authoritative and low. "I want to feel you come around my cock."

She whimpered at his words, she loved them so much. It was like he had a direct line to her brain, knowing exactly what to say to push her over the edge.

"I want to feel how your pussy clenches around me when you cum. Every night I was away, I jacked off thinking about this. About you. How tight and wet you get for me. How you milk me dry with every thrust." He said as he thrust harder.

His words sent shivers down her spine, her body reacting instinctively to the filthy things he was saying. The thought of him thinking about her, touching himself while imagining her, pushed her even closer to the edge. She was lost in the sensation, her body tightening around him as she moved closer and closer to release. The way he filled her, the way he moved inside her, was almost too much.

"I want to hear you scream my name, Meerab. Scream for me." His grip on her hips tightened, and she could feel his fingers digging into her skin. The sensation of his rough hands, the way he was holding her so possessively, sent waves of pleasure coursing through her. Her body arched, her back curving as she moved with him, matching his rhythm. She briefly considered how much it must cost to clean leather seats and decided that it didn't matter—she'd pay for it a thousand times over if it meant feeling like this.

"Cum for me, Meerab," he repeated, his voice a harsh whisper in her ear as he leaned over her. "I want to feel you. I want to hear you."

His words were her undoing. She felt her orgasm building, the pressure mounting until it was almost unbearable. Her breath came in ragged gasps, her body trembling with anticipation. When it finally hit, it was like a tidal wave, crashing over her with a force that left her breathless.

She screamed his name, her voice raw and desperate, her body shuddering as her walls clenched around him, milking his cock. The pleasure was so intense, so overwhelming, that she could barely think. All she could do was feel—feel him inside her, filling her completely, his cock pulsing as he followed her into orgasm.

"Fuck, Meerab," he groaned, thrusting into her one last time, deep and hard. "You feel so fucking good."

She hummed, feeling satisfied after a whole week apart, sagging against the seat. The air was thick with the scent of their sex, their mingled breaths the only sound now that their movements had stilled.

"How am I going to not fuck you crazy over the next few days?" he said, his hands palming and squeezing her ass.

"No one at work can know," she reminded him, her voice still breathless.

He groaned as he pulled out of her, the loss of him leaving her feeling empty and wanting. Murtasim immediately moved to help her, his hands gentle as he adjusted her panties back into place and smoothed down her dress. He lifted her carefully from the seat, turning her around to face him.

Without a word, he captured her lips in a passionate kiss, his mouth moving against hers with a fierce intensity that took her breath away. His hands roamed over her body, ensuring everything was in order. He pulled back slightly, his eyes searching hers with that annoyingly perfect mix of concern and lust. She wondered how she hadn't yet created a Murtasim-Khan-survival guide because she was clearly struggling.

He reached up to fix her hair, his fingers deftly smoothing the strands. Then he leaned in and kissed her nose, a soft, tender gesture that made her heart flutter. "God, I missed you," he whispered, his voice filled with emotion. How could a man who just turned her into a moaning mess also be so incredibly sweet?

She giggled, the sound light and happy, feeling a warmth spread through her at his words.

"I missed you too, now find me a clean bathroom so we can clean up and not show up at the hotel looking like we fucked... and get me fries," she commanded with a playful smile.

"Yes, Miss Ahmed," he grinned, his eyes twinkling with affection.

----------------------------------------------------------

"You two are so fucking obvious, how everyone does not already know is beyond me," Belinda said, her voice low but laced with amusement.

Meerab turned to her, giving her a sharp look. Their colleagues were around, and it was their second day in Dallas already. She didn't need Belinda making things harder.

"You two have been eye-fucking this whole time," Belinda muttered.

Meerab rolled her eyes, trying to brush it off. "We have not been."

"Please, I thought he was going to fuck you on the table in front of the press this morning," Belinda continued, her tone mischievous.

"Belinda, seriously?!" Meerab said, grabbing a tortilla chip and stuffing it in her mouth. "Eat more, talk less."

She turned away from Belinda to find Murtasim staring at her from across the room. His dark eyes were intense, filled with a longing that made her heart flutter. He arched an eyebrow at her, a silent question. She shook her head subtly, trying to maintain her composure.

He tilted his head in a let's go gesture, but she shook her head again. His sigh was visible even from a distance, and he pouted in a way that would have been adorable if it weren't so frustrating. She glared at him, silently telling him to stop.

Stop with the cute pouting! Do you want to get us caught?

"Just go and stop doing this," Belinda whined, her voice slurring slightly. "Everyone has to know, it was so obvious that you two fucked on the way here the first night."

Meerab moved her drink away from Belinda's reach. "That's it, no more alcohol for you."

"More alcohol!" Belinda declared, getting up and heading towards the bar.

Meerab got up and followed her, knowing that while she trusted sober Belinda, drunk Belinda could not be trusted. "See, he's even following you here, SO obvious," Belinda said, glancing over her shoulder.

Meerab groaned and turned around. Sure enough, Murtasim was walking towards them. She felt a mix of exasperation and affection. Great, just what she needed, Mr. Inconspicious.

"You have to stop doing this," Meerab said to him as he got closer.

"Maybe I am just here to get another drink, Ahmed," he said, using her last name in that infuriatingly formal way that always got under her skin. Why was it so hot?!

She rolled her eyes. "Or maybe to convince you to come back to my room tonight," he muttered as he stepped closer and to the side, his voice low and husky.

"Murtasim," she glared, "you know we can't."

He sighed and leaned against the bar, his eyes never leaving hers.

"Stop looking at me!" She snapped.

"Babe, they all probably think we're fighting because you're glaring at me like you always do," he said, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. He did have a point.

She sighed. "You're so fucking annoying, I swear."

"Me?" he laughed, a genuine, heartwarming sound that made her smile despite herself.

"You've been doing this shit all day!" she snapped, though her tone had softened. She was a little angry. He kept doing things that would get them caught. Just earlier, as they walked to the restaurant, he had attempted to put his arm around her waist, and now he was here, making everything more complicated.

"Stop being so tempting then!" he snapped back.

"I didn't do anything," she said, trying to keep her voice steady. Except exist, apparently.

He scoffed. "You were licking that ice cream cone while looking straight at me!"

Okay, so maybe she had done that. "It was just an ice cream cone!" she defended. "That's how you eat them."

"That's also the way you look at me when you suck my cock," he pointed out.

Did he say that out loud?!

She whacked his arm, eyes darting around them to make sure no one had overheard. "Stop saying that kind of stuff in places like this!" she snapped.

He snickered, leaning in closer. "I can say a lot worse. I thought you liked my words."

She glared at him, hating how much she did. "I could tell you all the things I want to do to you right now, but I didn't, did I?" his voice deepened, sending a shiver down her spine.

"Murtasim, don't," she said, knowing where this little game led—the one that had him fucking her in bathrooms at restaurants and in the car. He whispered filthy things into her ear all night until she could no longer take it.

"Hmmm, I can show you. Your room is just across from mine." He whispered as he moved closer.

She shook her head.

Do not cave. Do not cave. Do not cave.

"No? So you don't want me to press you up against the nearest wall and ravish your mouth, showing you no mercy, not stopping even when you need air, not until you're begging me to pull away?" he muttered.

She whimpered but shook her head, feeling the heat pool between her legs. She hated Murtasim Khan for this—he never listened. She had explicitly told him not to do this stuff with their colleagues around, but he did, over and over again.

"I see? Would you rather I slide my hands down that silk suit you're wearing, leave you longing for the feel of my hand? To undress you so slowly that you go crazy? To tie you up with my tie and lick you from your neck to those perfect tits to that swollen pussy that is always aching for me."

She whimpered, feeling the intense desire building. "Stop," she warned.

He grinned, leaning in even closer. "My room."

She shook her head.

"Your room," he said, his voice a low growl.

"Murtasim," she warned again.

She wanted that, badly, but not with everyone around. They would hear or see something they shouldn't, and then everyone would gossip. He knew that. They had this conversation over and over again. But he obviously didn't care.

Was his hearing selective? Did he think this was some kind of romantic comedy where the girl secretly loved being ignored?

She glared at him and pushed him away. "Fuck off," she said before marching out of the hotel restaurant.

Screw you and your stupid sexy face.

"Another fight?" she heard someone laugh behind her.

Yes, we're practically the romantic subplot of this work trip.

"Stop following me," she said, her frustration bubbling over. She quickened her pace, aware of Murtasim's persistent footsteps behind her. If he didn't stop, she was going to say something mean that she didn't want to.

"Seriously, you're acting like a child," he called out as he caught up with her.

Oh, now I'm the child? Mr. "I'll kiss you in front of the entire board if I feel like it"?

Meerab ignored him, jabbing the elevator button with more force than necessary. The doors slid open, and she stepped inside, Murtasim close on her heels. The moment the doors closed, sealing them away from the rest of the world, the tension between them reached a boiling point.

"Meerab," he began, but she cut him off.

"You never listen," she snapped, her eyes flashing with anger. "I told you not to do this around our colleagues, but you always do what you want."

He opened his mouth to retort, but she didn't give him a chance.

"Everyone is going to know, and then what?" She pressed on.

Yeah, tell me your grand plan, Mr. I-Have-No-Sense-Of-Boundaries.

"Then what?" he asked, his expression a mix of frustration and something deeper, something that tugged at her heart despite her anger. "I just missed my girlfriend," he said, his voice rising. "And she's always two feet from me, and I can't even fucking hold her hand or make sure some asshole doesn't run his bike into her as we walk down the sidewalk."

He was angry. He was never like this, not outside of work. His eyes were darker, his jaw clenched tight, and his voice held an edge that made her chest tighten. It was a different sort of anger, one she hadn't seen before. His frustration was raw and unfiltered.

Great, now he's making sense and looking hot doing it.

"Do you have any idea how hard it is to keep this a secret? To act like you're just a coworker when all I want to do is kiss you, hold your hand, be with you? So what if everyone knows? You're not my boss, I am not your boss, there is nothing wrong with this." His voice cracked with the weight of his emotions.

The sincerity in his voice momentarily took her aback.

No, don't look at me like that, like you're some wounded puppy.

"You think I don't miss you?" she shot back. "You think it's easy for me to be around you all day and not touch you, not be with you the way I want to?"

"Then why are you making it so hard?" he yelled, his frustration mirroring her own. "Let's just tell everyone and—"

"No, we can't," she interrupted, her voice dropping to a whisper.

"Why?" he groaned, stepping closer, his eyes searching hers for an answer.

"If it doesn't work out, then what? You'll be fine. Men always are. But what about me and—" she began, her voice trembling with worry.

"Why wouldn't it work out?" he asked, his eyes flickering between hers, looking hurt.

"What if you get tired of this one day, when the sex is no longer new and—" she said, her fears spilling out.

And I can't even blame you because, honestly, who could put up with my overthinking 24/7?

"Is that what this is to you, Meerab? Just sex?" he asked, his voice pained.

"No! That's not what I meant, I just—" She didn't know what she meant. She was scared because she was sure she was falling faster than he was, and things would go wrong, things that didn't adhere to logic always did.

He trapped her against the corner of the elevator, his presence overwhelming her senses. "Just what?" he asked, his hands cupping her face, forcing her to look at him.

All her defenses melted when he held her face like that, his thumb caressing her cheek with a tenderness that sent shivers down her spine. His eyes, deep and searching, seemed to see right through her, piercing the walls she had carefully constructed around her heart. She had always been so guarded, never telling anyone what was truly on her mind. Vulnerability wasn't in her nature. But with him, it was different. His touch, his gaze, the genuine concern etched in his expression—all of it made her feel safe, made her feel like she could share her deepest fears and desires.

Great, now I'm a melted puddle of emotions because of his stupid, perfect face.

But that very openness terrified her, it wasn't logical. She had hated him until a couple of months ago. Now, after just seven weeks of dating - where most of their time had been filled with intense sex, concerts, dinners, and spontaneous outings – she was suddenly like this with him? She was scared because she had started to feel something deeper, something more profound, and she wasn't sure if he felt the same way. She couldn't help but wonder if this was the real deal, or if it was just another fleeting moment of happiness that would eventually fade away, like most things did. People knowing would just make it worse if it didn't work out.

"I am scared," she admitted, her voice barely a whisper.

"Why?" he asked softly, his eyes filled with concern.

She began to ramble, a rare occurrence for her. She was always succinct and to the point, but with him, she couldn't seem to control her thoughts. "Because it's too much. All of last week, I was so miserable because I missed you. That can't be normal. And then I saw you, and it's like my brain short-circuited, and I just want to be with you. I have all these feelings inside me, and I don't know what to do with them. What if you don't have these feelings too? Then I am here alone, just in my feelings, feelings that make no sense because it's barely been two months and this is all—"

"I love you," he said suddenly, clearly, confidently.

It took her aback, her words disappearing from her mind as she looked into his eyes. His sincere, earnest eyes.

Her heart skipped a beat. Did he really say that? The words echoed in her head, sinking in slowly. He loved her? The realization was overwhelming, a rush of emotions flooding her system.

"I love you, Meerab Ahmed. What you're going through now is what I went through for weeks before that night. I had all those feelings, ones that made no sense – of wanting to kiss your nose, to lay in your lap and just talk to you for hours, to get a dog with you, to squeeze your chipmunk cheeks and kiss them when you danced happily in your chair eating something you liked, to be beside you all the time. Fuck, I even think about getting married and having kids with you all the fucking time. So, all those feelings, that don't make sense because it's barely been two months, I have them too, and they make sense if you stop trying to find logic in everything. There is no law, no book that tells you how to fall in love or how long it should take. That's all in here," he said, putting his hand over her heart.

Meerab stared at him, her mind racing. "That's not logical, Murtasim! People don't just... fall in love like this. It takes time, it takes... more! You don't even know what my...my favourite movie!" She was grasping at straws now, she knew it. Grasping at straws and throwing them all over the place like a demented scarecrow.

He smiled softly, "Ella Enchanted."

"My favorite color?" she challenged.

"Emerald green, like your favorite dress," he replied without hesitation.

How?

"Okay, but you don't know my favorite childhood memory," she said, sure she had him this time.

"The time you and your dad built that treehouse in your backyard, and he let you paint it any color you wanted," he said, his eyes filled with warmth and affection.

Was he a secret agent sent to spy on her? How did he know all this?

She stared at him, her arguments crumbling. "How do you know all this?"

"Because I listen, Meerab. And I will listen. I might not know all of the answers now, but I always want to be the first one to know those things. I want to know everything. And most of them will change, your favourite movie, colour, maybe even another memory will become your favourite for one reason or another. There will be something new to know all the time. Don't you think that's more important?" He said, his voice gentle but firm.

Oh great, now he's making sense and being all emotionally mature.

"But..." She trailed off, not knowing what she was trying to say.

"Love isn't some corporate project. Not everything in life can be measured or planned out. Sometimes things just happen," he said, frustration mingling with the love in his voice.

"But what if it doesn't work out? What if all this is just... infatuation? What if you get tired of me when the newness wears off?" she argued, her fear evident.

She was one heartbeat away from becoming a professional doomsayer.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "What if it does work out? What if we grow stronger, day by day, because we trust this feeling and each other? You can't predict the future with your colour-coded spreadsheets and workplans."

Why did he need to bring her color-coded spreadsheets into the conversation? They were her babies, her pride and joy!

"That's the problem, Murtasim! I need predictability. I need to know that I'm not setting myself up for heartbreak," she snapped, tears of frustration and fear filling her eyes.

"Babe, you can't control everything. Love doesn't come with guarantees or warranties. It just is. It's messy, and unpredictable, and terrifying, but that's what makes it beautiful. You have to take a leap of faith."

"But I'm scared!" she admitted, her voice breaking.

Scared of love, scared of losing control, scared of... a future without her color-coded spreadsheets.

"So am I," he confessed, stepping closer, his other hand cupping her face. "But I'm more scared of a life without you. I'm scared of not taking this chance and wondering 'what if' for the rest of my life. We spend the most of our day at work, and I don't want to spend that day without you. I want to drive to work together, I want to go get coffee together, to have lunch together, to just hug you when you get into one of your stressed moods, to steal kisses, to just...be. Maybe I pushed too much, but that's all I want."

He wanted the whole package, spreadsheets and all.

Meerab stared at him, his words sinking in slowly. She could feel the warmth of the hand he still had over her heart, a steady reassurance that calmed the storm inside her. His eyes, filled with sincerity and love, bore into hers, and she felt a weight lift off her shoulders. His words made sense, and for the first time, she allowed herself to accept them, to believe in the possibility that this didn't need to be logical.

Tears filled her eyes, blurring her vision. "You love me?" she asked, her voice trembling with emotion.

He nodded, his expression softening. "I love you, and this is going to work out, I promise you that."

"How?" she asked, sniffling, the fear still lingering but starting to fade.

"Because I am not letting you go," he said, clearly, confidently.

In that moment, she couldn't hold back any longer. She moved towards him, one moment he was speaking, and the next moment she was swallowing his words, her arms going around his neck and shoulders, holding him to her as she kissed him deeply.

He loved her.

Murtasim Khan loved her. He had those feelings too, the ones she was scared she was going to blurt out and scare him off with. He wanted the same things, maybe even more than she had let herself think about.

Their kiss was wild, filled with a raw intensity that left her breathless. Her fingers threaded through his hair, tugging him closer, while her other hand clutched the fabric of his shirt, desperate to feel him, to ground herself in this reality. His hands roamed her back, pulling her flush against him, the heat of his body seeping into hers.

He was like a furnace, a sexy, brooding furnace.

He moved a little, his hand moving away from her, hitting the wall of the elevator, he pressed a button, and that's when she noticed that they hadn't been moving. Surprised that no one had called the elevator, he seized the moment.

As they started ascending, he pushed her against the wall with a force that made her gasp, the cold metal pressing against her back. He grabbed her wrists, lifting her hands above her head and pinning them there with one strong hand, while the other trailed down her arm, igniting a trail of fire in its wake. His lips kissed hers with a ferocity that took her breath away, a raw, primal hunger that sent a jolt of electricity through her body.

She could feel the intensity of his need in the way his mouth moved against hers, demanding, claiming, devouring. His tongue plunged into her mouth, tangling with hers in a desperate dance, each stroke sending shivers down her spine. She moaned into his kiss, her body arching towards him, craving more of his touch.

His free hand roamed down her side, gripping her hip and pulling her closer. She could feel the hard length of him pressing against her stomach, the heat between them almost unbearable. Her heart raced, her breaths coming in ragged gasps as he kissed her deeper, harder, as if he was trying to merge their very souls.

She wrapped one leg around his waist, pulling him closer, feeling the delicious friction of his body against hers. The sensation was intoxicating, every nerve ending on fire, her entire being focused on the feel of him, the taste of him.

He broke the kiss, his lips trailing down her neck, biting and sucking, leaving marks that would remind her of this moment long after it was over.

No more hiding them.

She tilted her head back against the cold metal wall of the elevator, giving him better access, her eyes closed, lost in the sensations he was creating. She felt his breath hot against her skin, his teeth grazing her collarbone, sending another wave of pleasure coursing through her.

"Meerab," he growled against her skin, his voice thick with desire. "I need you."

She opened her eyes, meeting his dark, lust-filled gaze. "Take me," she whispered, her voice trembling with anticipation.

With a low growl, he captured her lips again, his hand releasing her wrists to cup her face, tilting her head to deepen the kiss. She moaned into his mouth, her hands free to roam over his shoulders, down his back, clutching at his shirt as if she needed to anchor herself to reality.

The elevator dinged, the doors slid open, but they were lost in their own world. Meerab wrapped both her legs around his waist, feeling his hardness pressing against her core. The sensation sent a jolt of desire through her, making her gasp. He let the hands he had pinned above her head go and they wrapped around his neck as they continued to kiss.

He didn't stop, carrying her out of the elevator, his grip on her firm and unyielding, his lips plundering hers.

He managed to navigate the hallway, pausing every few steps to press her against the walls, kissing her hard as if he couldn't help himself. Her fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, her breaths coming in ragged gasps.

She could feel his heart pounding against her chest, matching the frantic beat of her own. His hands roamed her body, squeezing her hips, her ass, anything he could reach, as if he needed to touch every part of her.

They somehow managed to get his door open, stumbling into his room just as the elevator dinged again. They paused, both of them frozen, listening to the sounds of their coworkers loitering around, making their way to their rooms—all of them on the same floor.

Murtasim closed the door quietly, then turned back to her, his eyes dark with lust. "We have to be quiet," he whispered, his voice rough and low.

She nodded, but the intensity in his gaze made it hard to remember how to breathe, let alone stay quiet. He backed her up against the door, lifting her hands above her head again, pinning them there with one hand while the other slid down her body.

"Off," Meerab muttered against his lips, her hands struggling to free themselves from his grip. She needed their clothes off. Now.

"Shut up," he whispered against her lips, holding her hands tighter, his free hand moving to her pants, unbuttoning them. The loose silk fell effortlessly to the floor, pooling around her ankles.

Her breath hitched as his fingers brushed against her thigh, inching higher towards her panties. The anticipation was driving her wild, every nerve ending on fire. She needed him, all of him, and she needed him now.

"Murtasim," she whispered, pulling away from his lips a little, her voice trembling with desperation.

He bit down on her lip, making her moan, before kissing her again, deeper this time. "I know, baby," he murmured, his fingers slipping beneath her panties, finding her wet and ready for him. He teased her entrance, sliding his fingers through her slick folds, making her whimper. She arched against him, her hips moving of their own accord, seeking more.

How could one man reduce her to this trembling mess with just a touch? Not just one, but over and over again?

"Do you want my cock?" he whispered, his lips brushing against her ear, sending shivers down her spine.

Like she needed air.

"Yes," she breathed, her voice barely audible. "Please, I need you."

How many ways could she say 'yes' before she started chanting it like a prayer?

He didn't make her wait. His hand that was holding hers up moved, freeing her hands. She immediately pushed his jacket off him, her fingers fumbling with his t-shirt, pulling it over his head even though her upper half was still fully clothed. She was desperate to feel his skin against hers.

He freed himself from his pants and lifted her higher against the door, hooking a leg over his forearm, aligning his cock with her entrance. She felt the tip of him pressing against her, the anticipation almost too much to bear.

This was the moment she now lived for.

He pushed into her slowly, filling her inch by inch, stretching her in the most delicious way. He groaned softly by her ear as he did, the sound vibrating through her, intensifying her arousal.

She bit her lip to stifle a moan, the feeling of him inside her almost overwhelming. "Fuck, you're so tight," he groaned, his voice thick with need.

He pulled away from her ear, looking at her against the door, his eyes dark with lust. "Wrap your legs around me again," he muttered.

As she complied, Murtasim's hand slipped under her thigh, lifting her leg and wrapping it around his waist. The new angle brought their bodies even closer, his cock sliding deeper into her. The sensation was exquisite, every inch of him hitting spots that made her body sing with pleasure.

"Meerab," he groaned, his voice a low rumble in his chest as he thrust slowly, his cock burying itself inch by inch into her slick heat. She moaned loudly, her head falling back against the wall as her body arched into his, craving more.

"Stay quiet," he whispered, his breath hot against her ear. "If anyone walked by my door right now, they'd know I was fucking you."

Did he want her to combust?

His words sent a shiver down her spine, the combination of pleasure and the thrill of being caught heightening her arousal. She hadn't known that about herself, but she got off on fucking in places where they could get caught. The danger, the risk—it made everything more intense.

Murtasim Khan had taught her many things – most of it coming down to the fact that she had a kink for risky behaviour, and submission.

Meerab clung to him, her arms wrapped tightly around his neck, her nails digging into his shoulders. Her body was on fire, every nerve ending alight with need. With her legs wrapped tightly around him, he used the leverage to grind against her, his cock pressing perfectly against her center with each thrust. The friction was delicious, sending waves of pleasure coursing through her. She threw her head back, hitting the wall lightly, her moans echoing in the confined space.

"Quiet," he reminded her again, his hand moving to cover her mouth as he continued to thrust into her, each movement more intense than the last. "You have to stay quiet, Meerab."

Easier said than done when he was fucking her brains out.

She whimpered against his hand, the muffled sound adding to the intensity of the moment. The feel of his cock stretching her, filling her completely, was overwhelming. Her eyes rolled back in her head as he picked up the pace, driving into her with a rhythm that left her breathless and keening his name, "Murtasimmm."

"If you can't stay quiet," he murmured, his voice low and dangerous, "I'll have to punish you."

Fuck, she wanted that.

The threat sent another wave of heat through her, her body responding to his every word. He thrust harder, deeper, his hand still covering her mouth as he watched her with dark, hungry eyes. She could feel the building pressure inside her, each thrust bringing her closer to the edge.

Her moans grew louder despite his hand, the pleasure too much to contain. He tightened his grip, his fingers pressing against her lips, stifling her cries. "If anyone hears you," he whispered, "they'll know exactly what we're doing."

The thought pushed her over the edge, her orgasm crashing through her with a force that left her trembling in his arms. She cried out against his hand, her body convulsing around his cock as waves of ecstasy washed over her.

Murtasim groaned, stilling, not chasing his orgasm—and she knew what that meant. She was getting fucked again, and again, and again. His self-control was legendary when he wanted it to be.

He was a sex god with the patience of a saint.

Her body was still shuddering from the aftershocks of her orgasm, every nerve ending hypersensitive as he continued to hold her against the wall. He removed his hand from her mouth, replacing it with his lips, kissing her deeply, swallowing her gasps as he began to move again, slow, deliberate thrusts that made her head spin.

"You're not done yet," he whispered against her lips, his voice a dark promise that sent another wave of arousal through her. "Not until I say you are."

He put her down, his still hard cock sliding out of her, making her whimper at the loss, her pussy clenching around nothing suddenly. The emptiness left her feeling desperate, her body aching for him.

Put it back in.

Murtasim turned her around, pressing her into the wall. He pulled her blazer off and yanked her matching strapless top down to free her tits, his hands immediately cupping and squeezing them. He pinched her nipples roughly, making her moan loudly. The mixture of pain and pleasure sent jolts of electricity through her, intensifying her need.

Was it possible to be electrocuted by arousal? Because she was definitely buzzing.

"Ass out," he commanded, nipping at her shoulder.

She pushed her hips out, her legs widening slightly to accommodate him. She moaned as his hot, naked body pressed against hers, his cock hard against her ass. She loved this position because he completely encompassed her, his strong arms and broad chest covering her body, making it nearly impossible to move. She felt utterly trapped, every inch of her skin in contact with his, and it made her feel completely under his mercy. The way he held her, the force of his thrusts, the sensation of his breath on her neck—it all turned her brain off, leaving her consumed by pure, primal pleasure.

He grabbed his cock, slapping it against her ass a couple of times, the sound sharp and thrilling. She moaned again, the sensation of his cock hitting her ass strangely arousing, a reminder of his power and control.

Slap my face with it later.

"Fuck, Meerab," he groaned, pushing her head against the wall, her cheek pressed to the cold surface. The contrast between the cool wall and the heat of his body sent shivers down her spine.

And then he was sliding into her again, his huge cock filling her completely. He set a punishing pace, his hips slamming against hers, each thrust driving her forward. His arms were on either side of her, trapping her in place – she loved it.

His mouth was at her ear, his breath hot against her skin. "You like being fucked like this, don't you? Like a little slut, taking my cock so well," he whispered, his voice low and filthy.

Her brain was officially mush – his little slut.

"Murtasimmmm." She moaned his name, loud and desperate, as he slammed his cock into her, the force of his thrusts making her body jolt.

Was it possible to moan oneself hoarse? Because she was definitely on her way there.

"Shhhh. You don't want them to know that—quiet—"

Thrust. She gasped, her body arching against him.

"-little-"

Thrust. Her walls tightened around him.

"-Miss Ahmed-"

Thrust. She could barely breathe, the pleasure coursing through her veins like liquid fire.

"the epitome-"

Thrust. His cock drove deeper, hitting that perfect spot inside her that made her see stars.

"-of professionalism-"

Hard thrust. Her eyes rolled back, her moans turning into desperate whimpers.

"-is getting-"

Thrust. She felt like she was teetering on the edge of a precipice, the intensity of his pace driving her wild.

"fucked-"

Thrust. The word echoed in her mind, sending another wave of arousal through her.

"-like-"

Thrust. Her entire body was trembling.

"-a slut."

Thrust.

Her moans grew louder despite his warning, each thrust pushing her closer to the edge, she sobbed out his name.

Did he think she was capable of being quiet right now? Clearly, he underestimated his own talents.

One of his hands moved from the wall to wrap around her neck. His long, warm fingers wrapped around her neck completely, tightening just enough to make her gasp. The sensation of being choked, of having his control over her complete, sent a rush of pleasure through her, amplifying every sensation.

"I told you to be quiet, didn't I?" he muttered into her ear, squeezing her neck just a bit tighter, making it hard to breathe for a second before he loosened his grip, letting her breathe, but still tight enough that she felt it. His other hand covered her mouth again, effectively silencing her.

He fucked her hard, pulling out almost all the way and slamming back in—over and over again—muffling her very loud screams. The force of his thrusts drove her wild, her body arching against him, desperate for more.

"Hmmm, I like shutting you up like this," he muttered into her ear, his voice dripping with satisfaction. She pushed her hips back into his, meeting his thrusts, her moans vibrating against his hand.

And with your cock in my mouth – she remembered.

"Should I let you cum again?" he whispered, his breath hot against her ear as he fucked her hard. "Or punish you for denying me the past two days?" He bit her earlobe, sending another jolt of pleasure through her.

Both.

She could only groan, the sound vibrating against his hand around her neck and his palm on her mouth. Her mind was a haze of lust and need, every nerve ending on fire.

Denying him? She should be awarded for resisting him!

"I think that was a no," he muttered, chuckling darkly. He sped up, thrusting into her with a punishing rhythm, each movement driving her closer to the edge.

Just when she thought she couldn't take it anymore, he stopped, pulling out of her suddenly and leaving her sobbing as her pussy clenched around nothing, feeling the loss acutely.

He turned her around again, his hand falling away from her mouth. "Murtasim, please, put it backkk" she whined, her voice desperate and needy, hands trying to grab his cock.

"On your knees," he commanded.

She groaned but dropped straight to her knees, looking up at him with wide, pleading eyes. She opened her mouth for his cock, knowing what he wanted. She knew this position well too, loved how it made her feel so submissive, so eager to please.

She was like a deity worshipping at the altar of his cock like this.

He chuckled, "Such a good girl, always ready to please," he muttered, running his thumb over her bottom lip. She took it into her mouth, sucking gently, her eyes locked on his. She let her eyes flicker to his cock, covered in her wetness, glistening in the dim light.

Damn, he should come with a 'Satisfaction Guaranteed' sign.

He groaned, the sound deep and rough, but pulled his thumb out of her mouth. Taking a few steps back, he walked over to the armchair by the glass windows that covered one wall of the room.

"Take that off and come here," he said, sitting in the armchair, fully naked.

His voice was a low, commanding growl that sent shivers down her spine.

Meerab whimpered at the sight before her. He looked so fucking hot sitting on the armchair like that. His muscular physique was on full display, every defined muscle highlighted by the soft light in the room. His legs were spread wide, his cock hard and throbbing between his thick thighs, the sight of it making her mouth water. The way he sat there, so confident, so sure of himself, made her heart race.

She got up, sliding her strapless top off and then her bra, which he had pulled down earlier, along with her panties, leaning over just slightly. His eyes darkened with desire, following her every movement. He groaned as she stood up straight, his gaze fixed on her breasts.

She giggled when she noticed where his eyes were.

He rather loved boobs—slept on them too when he could. His intense focus on her chest made her feel powerful, desirable.

Meerab cupped her boobs slowly, lifting them close and up and then letting them fall, loving the groan he let out as he watched.

She could tease too.

She sauntered over to him, her hips swaying, and fell to her knees between his legs, her hands caressing his strong thighs, nails digging into the skin. She could feel the tension in his muscles, the heat radiating from his skin. He was so close, so ready, and she relished the control she had over him in this moment.

Power was intoxicating, especially when it was wielded between a man's legs.

Looking up at him with a mischievous glint in her eyes, she spit on his cock, the moisture glistening on his hard length. His breath hitched, his eyes burning with lust as he watched her.

If he could bottle that look, he'd be richer than all the tech giants combined.

Instead of using her mouth, she moved her hands, pushing her tits together and leaning over him. She let the soft, warm flesh of her breasts envelop his cock, and she began to move, using her hands to keep her breasts together, sliding him between her mounds. The sensation of his hard length against her soft skin sent jolts of pleasure through her, making her nipples harden in response.

He groaned, "Meerab," loudly, his head falling back against the chair, eyes closing for a moment and then opening again as if he needed to see her, to watch every movement she made.

"You have to be quiet, Murtasim," she teased, her voice light but her eyes full of mischief.

Meerab loved the way he reacted to her, the way his body responded so eagerly to her touch. She moved her breasts up and down his shaft, the slickness of her spit making the motion smooth and effortless. The heat of his arousal sending sparks of pleasure through her own body.

Her hands squeezed her breasts together tighter, increasing the pressure around his cock. She looked up at him, watching his face contort with pleasure, his breaths coming in ragged gasps. He was beautiful like this, lost in the moment, completely at her mercy, eyes dark and locked onto hers.

"Murtasim," she whispered, her voice husky with desire. "Do you like this?"

"Fuck, yes," he groaned, his eyes filled with raw, animalistic need. "I love your tits."

She increased her pace, moving her breasts faster, watching as he gripped the arms of the chair, his knuckles turning white. His hips started to move, thrusting up to meet her rhythm, his cock sliding between her breasts with increasing urgency.

Who needed cardio when you had this?

She could feel him getting closer, his body tensing, his breaths turning into desperate pants. She leaned in, letting her tongue flick out to tease the tip of his cock each time it emerged from between her breasts. The added sensation made him groan, a deep, guttural sound that sent shivers down her spine.

"You're so fucking sexy," he groaned, his eyes blazing with desire.

She giggled and pulled away slightly, a teasing smile on her lips. "I know," she muttered, slithering up his body, leaning over him and capturing his lips in a kiss.

She knew she was driving him crazy, and that was half the fun.

He kissed her wildly, his hands moving to grip her hips, pulling her into his lap. The kiss was intense, filled with pent-up desire and need. His tongue plunged into her mouth, tasting her, exploring her, as his hands roamed her body.

Meerab felt her heart race, her body responding to him with a desperation that bordered on madness. She straddled him, her knees pressing into the cushions on either side of his thighs, her hands tangled in his hair.

Her brain was in full-blown chaos mode, a riot of hormones and want.

"Murtasim," she moaned against his lips, grinding her hips against his, feeling the hard length of his cock press against her slick folds. The friction sent waves of pleasure through her, making her desperate for more. "Fuck me," she muttered, her voice dripping with need.

Without a moment's hesitation, he picked her up, his strong arms effortlessly lifting her. He carried her to the floor-to-ceiling glass windows, pressing her against the cold surface. The contrast of the chill against her heated skin made her gasp, her nipples hardening as they pressed against the glass, still wet from her spit.

Murtasim's hands gripped her hips, holding her in place as he positioned himself at her entrance. With a powerful thrust, he slid into her, filling her completely. The sensation was overwhelming, the way he stretched her, the way he claimed her. He set a hard pace, each thrust driving her body against the glass, the cold surface amplifying every sensation.

"They can probably see you," he whispered in her ear, his voice a dark, seductive growl. "A woman on the 40th floor, getting fucked for all she's worth." His words sent a thrill through her, the idea of being watched, of being seen, only heightening her arousal.

Seriously? Why did that turn her on so much?

She was moaning and screaming, her voice echoing in the room, her body writhing against his. "Murtasim, Murtasim," she chanted, his name a desperate plea on her lips. Every thrust sent shockwaves of pleasure through her, her body responding to him with a desperation that bordered on madness.

"You love this, don't you?" he growled, his breath hot against her ear.

Yes.

"Being fucked like my little slut where anyone could see. They're probably watching us right now, wondering who's luckier—me or you."

Being called his "little slut" sent a thrill through her, a deliciously wicked validation of how much she loved surrendering to him.

His filthy words made her moan louder, her hips pushing back against him, seeking more. The sound of their bodies coming together, the wet, slick noises, the sharp slaps of skin against skin, filled the room. Each thrust was powerful, relentless, driving her closer to the edge. She could feel the pressure building inside her, the tension coiling tighter and tighter.

"Imagine them watching you, Meerab," he continued, his voice low and rough. "Watching how well you take my cock, seeing how much you love it. They're probably jealous as fuck, wishing they were the ones fucking you."

Yeah, and they could keep wishing. This was her sex god, and he was the only one she was fucking.

She whimpered, the thought sending another wave of heat through her. "Murtasim," she gasped, barely able to form the words. "Please..."

"Please what?" he taunted, his pace never slowing. "Please fuck you harder? Please make you cum?"

"Yes," she cried, her voice breaking. "Please, I need it."

"Good girl," he whispered, his thrusts becoming harder, more urgent. "Cum for me, Meerab. Show them how much you love being fucked like this."

His words, combined with the intensity of his thrusts, pushed her over the edge. Her orgasm crashed through her, her body convulsing around him, her walls clenching and milking his cock. She screamed his name, the sound filled with pure ecstasy, her vision blurring as waves of pleasure washed over her.

Murtasim continued to thrust into her, prolonging her orgasm, driving her wild with sensation. He followed her over the edge, his own release hitting him hard. He groaned deeply, his hips jerking as he spilled his seed inside her, filling her completely.

"They're probably watching you take my cum," he whispered, his voice thick with satisfaction. "Watching you get fucked and filled, knowing you're mine."

His. Utterly and completely his.

They stayed like that for a moment, their bodies pressed together, both of them breathing hard. The glass was fogged with their breath, the room filled with the scent of sex and sweat.

Meerab couldn't help but think they must look like a scene out of a steamy romance novel. If only their colleagues could see them now – Mr. and Miss Professional, lost in their own world of carnal chaos.

Slowly, he pulled out of her, his hands gentle as he turned her to face him. His touch was tender, a stark contrast to the intensity with which he had taken her. She looked up at him, her eyes half-lidded, a satisfied, dreamy smile on her lips.

He chuckled, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face. "You look like you've been drugged," he muttered, a teasing glint in his eyes.

She probably looked loopy, she felt loopy. The afterglow of their intense encounter left her feeling lightheaded, every part of her body buzzing with lingering pleasure. Like she had just been spun in a washing machine set to 'orgasm' cycle.

"I love your cock," she muttered, feeling herself dripping with the mess he had left in her. The sensation was oddly satisfying.

"Only my cock?" he asked, raising an eyebrow, his tone playful.

God, how could he manage to be so annoyingly sexy and endearing at the same time?

"I can't tell you the words right now, or you'll think it's just post-orgasmic bliss," she managed to mumble, her voice soft and a bit slurred from exhaustion. She didn't trust herself to utter anything coherent; she might accidentally declare her undying love for his cock or his fingers.

He chuckled again, leaning in to kiss her nose. "You're so cute," he said, his eyes twinkling with affection.

She pouted, her lips forming a perfect, adorable pout. "You're calling me cute after that?"

"You're a goddess, a siren, but you're also cute," he replied, kissing her nose again and wrapping his arms around her, holding her close. His embrace was warm, comforting, a cocoon of safety and love. She wanted to bottle this moment, save it for the days when she felt like she was drowning in spreadsheets and deadlines.

"Murtasim," she hummed, her voice a soft, contented sigh as she wrapped her arms around his waist, holding him just as tightly.

He hummed in response, a deep, soothing sound that vibrated through his chest and into her. It was like he was purring, which was a ridiculous thought, but in her current state, it made perfect sense.

"My legs are not working," she mumbled, her head resting against his shoulder. Her legs felt like jelly. She wondered if she'd ever walk normally again or if she'd have to crawl around the office like a weird, sex-drunk lizard.

He chuckled, a low, rumbling sound. "Already?" he teased, a playful smirk on his lips. "I'm not done yet."

She whimpered, the thought of another round both thrilling and daunting. "Not tonight," she begged, her thighs sore and her body exhausted.

"It's technically tomorrow in 27 minutes," he pointed out, his eyes gleaming with mischief.

She whined softly, her pout deepening, which only made him chuckle more. She swore he thrived on her exhaustion; he was like a sex god with an insatiable appetite, and she was his favorite meal.

"Let's go take a bath," he suggested, his voice softening with genuine care.

"My clothes," she murmured, glancing across the hall where her room was. The idea of walking that far, let alone finding her clothes, seemed impossible at the moment.

"You don't need them," he said, his tone matter-of-fact.

He scooped her up effortlessly, carrying her towards the bathroom as she nuzzled against his neck.

---------------

They were lying in bed, wrapped in plush bathrobes, waiting for the room service they had ordered – they needed food it they were going to have sex like that.

Meerab's fingers danced along Murtasim's, playing with them absentmindedly. The warmth of his skin against hers was comforting. It was moments like these that made her realize how deeply she had fallen for him, despite all her initial reservations and the chaos he brought into her life.

"I like this," she muttered, her voice soft and content. It was an understatement of monumental proportions, but it was all she could manage in her blissed-out state.

"My fingers?" he teased, his lips curling into a playful smile.

Well yes.

She rolled her eyes, a smile tugging at her lips. "No, this. You and me, in a different city, together."

"Traveling together?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

She nodded, a dreamy look in her eyes. She wanted to see the world with him—all the places she had always wanted to go but never did because taking time off work was hard for her. "Yes, traveling. Seeing new places, eating strange foods, getting lost together, and maybe even finding ourselves in the process."

"Let's do it. Wherever you want," he said, grabbing the hand that was playing with his fingers and bringing it to his lips, kissing the back of it tenderly.

She smiled, warmth spreading through her chest. Rolling over, she rested her chin on his chest, looking up at his handsome face. His features were softened in the dim light, his eyes filled with love. She couldn't help but think about how perfect he looked, even with that infuriating smirk that often made her want to throttle him and kiss him at the same time.

"I guess we'll have to tell Stuart...so he can approve two of his executives taking time off at the same time," she said.

He looked surprised, his eyebrows shooting up. "You sure?" His tone was cautious, but there was hope in his eyes.

She nodded, her resolve firm. She had made up her mind. "Yes, I'm sure. We deserve this, and I'm tired of hiding. Plus, think of the shock on Stuart's face when he realizes the two best employees he's got are in cahoots."

His eyes flickered over her face, searching for something. "Why the sudden change?" he asked, his voice gentle but curious.

"Because you love me," she whispered, a smile overcoming her face. The words felt right, felt true. They filled her with a warmth she couldn't describe. "And because I've realized that love isn't something that always makes logical sense. Sometimes, you just have to follow your heart, even if it's scary as hell."

He smiled, a soft, adoring smile, but then he pouted playfully. "And?"

She shrugged nonchalantly, a teasing smile on her lips. "I suppose I might feel the same way. But don't let it go to your head."

"You said you had feelings that made no sense," he reminded her, his pout deepening. "I want to hear those feelings, even if they don't make sense. Especially if they don't make sense."

She shrugged again.

He sighed dramatically, making her giggle. She pressed a kiss to his chest before resting her chin on it again, one hand going up to cup his face, her thumb caressing his cheek. His stubble was rough against her skin, a familiar and comforting sensation.

"It makes no logical sense, but I am in love with you, Murtasim Khan," she told him, her voice filled with sincerity. "You make my life messy and unpredictable, and I wouldn't have it any other way."

"You're not very good at confessions," he teased, his eyes sparkling with amusement.

She giggled, a joyful sound that filled the room. "I love you," she said simply, her eyes locking onto his.

She loved the smile that grew on his face, a smile that made her heart flutter. He sat up, pulling her with him, his hands cupping her face as he pecked her lips softly. "I love you, Meerab."

"Say it again," she whispered, her eyes wide and hopeful. She loved how it sounded, how it felt to hear those words from him. It was like a balm to her soul, soothing all her fears and doubts.

"I love you," he said again, his voice filled with emotion.

Her face hurt from smiling, but she didn't care. "I love you too," she replied, her voice filled with happiness.

-------------------------------------

They went down to breakfast together the next morning. Despite them walking in together, no one seemed to bat an eye. She figured their colleagues would chalk it up to coincidence.

Murtasim, of course, looked infuriatingly smug as they joined the others at the buffet style breakfast, which was laden with muffins, pastries, and other breakfast items. He picked up a plate and started piling on food while Meerab reached for a small croissant.

"You look like shit," Murtasim snickered, catching sight of Azibo, their CFO, who was clutching a cup of coffee like it was his lifeline. Azibo's hair was a mess, and his eyes were bloodshot. He looked like he'd fought a losing battle with a freight train.

Azibo glared at Murtasim. "Thanks, Khan. You're the ray of sunshine I needed this morning."

"What?" Murtasim asked, feigning innocence.

Meerab took a bite of her croissant, hoping to avoid getting pulled into their banter.

"All I heard last night was someone going at it until 3 a.m.," Azibo said pointedly, his gaze fixed on Murtasim.

Meerab's eyes widened, and she choked on her croissant. Her mind raced—how could she make herself invisible? Maybe if she wished hard enough, she'd just disappear.

Carrie, their Chief of People and Experience, sighed as she poured herself some coffee. "Oh, that happens at hotels," she said nonchalantly, clearly missing Azibo's pointed look.

She was completely, thankfully, oblivious to the undertone of the conversation, probably thinking it was some random couple.

Meerab coughed violently, trying to dislodge the pastry while her face turned beet red.

Murtasim turned to Meerab, patting her back gently. "You okay?" he asked, handing her a glass of apple juice.

He looked way too amused for her liking. This was his fault, after all – he had insisted on eating whipped cream off her tits, and then one thing had led to another, and another, and another.

She nodded, her embarrassment evident as she took a slow sip, trying to regain her composure. She could feel Azibo's eyes on her, a knowing smirk playing at the corners of his mouth.

He knew it was her! Oh, God. Could the ground please open up and swallow her now? She was not prepared for this level of public mortification at breakfast.

Azibo, clearly enjoying the situation, continued, "Yeah, kept us all up. Some people have no consideration." He glanced at Murtasim, his smirk widening.

Murtasim, barely able to hide his amusement, simply shrugged. "Sorry about that. Must have been some... enthusiastic neighbors."

She wanted to strangle him and kiss him at the same time.

Just then, Brian, a younger coworker, sauntered in, looking fresh but clueless. "Damn, someone was getting it last night," he said loudly, causing Meerab to choke again, this time on her own spit.

eriously? Why did her body pick now to betray her repeatedly?

Murtasim quickly handed her the juice again, trying not to laugh. She took it, her hands shaking slightly as she drank, avoiding everyone's gaze. If she could just make it through this breakfast without dying of embarrassment, she'd consider it a win.

Brian looked around, confused by the sudden silence. "What? Did I say something wrong?"

Azibo smirked, clearly relishing the moment. "Brian, you might want to keep your observations to yourself," he advised, trying to keep a straight face.

Meerab finally found her voice, though it was a bit shaky. "I think we should all just enjoy our breakfast and... maybe invest in some earplugs for the future? Hotels you know." She trailed off with an awkward laugh.

Her attempt at humor fell flat, but at least she managed to speak without choking again – and floating the idea that it wasn't her screaming all night.

Murtasim chuckled, pulling her into a quick side hug. "Good idea, babe."

The moment the word "babe" left his mouth, the room fell into a stunned silence.

Meerab could feel everyone's eyes on her, and she desperately wished for a hole to crawl into.

Azibo's smirk turned into a full-blown grin, but he kept his mouth shut, clearly enjoying the chaos he had sown. Carrie's eyes widened, a mixture of surprise and amusement dancing in them. Her expression screamed, "I knew it!"

Brian blinked, trying to process the new information, his jaw dropping. "Wait, you two are together?!" he stuttered, looking between her and Murtasim.

Murtasim, ever the composed one, simply smiled and grabbed Meerab's hand. "Come on, let's get some fresh air," he said, leading her away from the table.

As they walked towards the exit, the weight of everyone's stares heavy on their backs, Meerab heard Belinda's voice cut through the murmur of the dining area. "FINALLY!" she yelled, causing a ripple of laughter and a few scattered claps.

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Author's Note: Tadaaaaaaaaaa! Let me know what y'all think, hehehehe. What was your favourite part?