Author's Note:  No one saw this coming, but all the recent YumHaj content made me want to write smut. The idea fit Hate at First Sight Murtasim and Meerab the best, so here we are. If it has been a while since you last read, this is a good time to revisit the earlier chapters. However, for those who need a refresher, here's a recap of everything that has happened so far.

Recap: Meerab and Murtasim began as professional rivals at PearTech, where she is the Chief Legal Officer (CLO) and he is the Chief Innovation Officer (CTO). Their roles naturally put them in opposition—she is responsible for ensuring the company follows regulations and mitigates legal risks, while he is focused on innovation, pushing boundaries, and moving quickly. Meerab has always resented his arrogant and effortlessly charming presence, while Murtasim has been endlessly frustrated by her rigid adherence to rules and her ability to challenge him at every turn.

What should have remained a strictly professional rivalry took an unexpected turn when Murtasim began developing intrusive, increasingly obsessive fantasies about Meerab. At first, he dismissed them, assuming it was nothing more than misplaced frustration, but soon, he found himself unable to stop thinking about her in ways that had nothing to do with work. His frustration only grew as he realized he was no longer just physically attracted to her, but also fascinated by her personality, her intelligence, and her presence.

Meerab, however, remained unaware of his internal turmoil and continued treating him with the same sharp, unyielding resistance. Yet, she began to notice subtle changes in his behavior—he was no longer as openly combative, his reckless tendencies seemed slightly more restrained, and, at times, he even appeared considerate toward her. The shift unsettled her, though she refused to dwell on it. It wasn't until she fell asleep at her desk late one night that the nature of their dynamic truly began to change.

Murtasim, working late as well, found her asleep in her office and, instead of leaving her there, woke her up and insisted on driving her home. The car ride that followed was quiet, oddly intimate, and completely different from every interaction they had ever had. For the first time, there was no arguing, no competition—just an unspoken awareness of the fact that they were alone together, away from the constant tension of the office. During the drive, Meerab let slip a deeply personal detail about her past, revealing that she had been in a car accident as a child and had never driven since. Murtasim, for once, had nothing clever to say in response. Instead, he simply listened, and Meerab found herself unexpectedly thrown by his concern.

Then, things spiraled further.

Meerab had a dream about him—an explicit one—and woke up completely unsettled. She tried to dismiss it, but it followed her throughout the day, pulling her attention toward him in ways she was not prepared for. She began noticing him more, paying attention to his interactions with others, and, much to her own irritation, feeling jealous whenever other women spoke to him. Convinced he was simply moving on to another workplace conquest, she found herself struggling to reconcile her growing awareness of him with her own assumptions about his character. The confusion became so overwhelming that she called in sick just to avoid dealing with him, only to have him send food to her apartment, further complicating her feelings.

When she returned to work, their interactions became even more fraught. Murtasim had stopped fighting her over every little thing, and when he agreed with a suggestion of hers without argument, she snapped, demanding to know what had changed. The confrontation that followed was intense, filled with all the tension they had been ignoring for weeks. The argument shifted, the tension broke, and before either of them knew what was happening, they were kissing. That kiss led to a conversation, one where Meerab finally realized that her assumptions about his personal life had been wrong. He wasn't the serial womanizer she had thought he was. He hadn't been sleeping with his admirers at work, nor had he been entertaining any of the advances she assumed he had welcomed. The realization unraveled her defenses just enough that when they ended up sleeping together in the office that night, it didn't feel like a mistake.

Afterward, they went out to dinner, and from that night onward, they were something more.

They began dating in secret, meeting outside of work, stealing moments together whenever they could. They were still arguing, still challenging each other, but now, their fights ended in sex instead of frustration. Meerab, however, refused to let anyone at work find out. She was afraid of what it would mean, of how deeply she already felt for him, of the way she knew that if she admitted just how much she wanted him, there would be no going back. Eventually, that fear caught up to her, and when she broke down over it, Murtasim told her he loved her. They then had lots of sex (I sense a common theme here).

By the end of the second chapter, we had already skipped ahead a few months and seen the moment they got engaged. This chapter picks up after their engagement. Spoiler: there's lots of sex.

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Murtasim Khan exhaled a long, slow breath as he rolled out of bed, the sheets rustling softly against his skin. His eyes drifted—inevitably—to the figure still tangled in the bedding, dark hair splayed over the pillow, bare leg peeking from beneath the blanket.

His Meerab.

A slow grin tugged at his lips as he took her in. She looked like something out of a dream, the soft rise and fall of her chest, her lips parted just slightly, lashes fanned against flushed cheeks. Innocent. Sweet. Like a little angel lost in sleep.

It was such a fucking lie.

He bit back a chuckle, shaking his head. Meerab was the furthest thing from innocent, and his body carried the proof—the faint red lines she'd raked down his back last night, the dull ache in his thighs from holding her still as he'd wrecked her the way she'd begged him to.

Yet here she was, looking delicate as ever, like she hadn't spent the night moaning filthy things into his ear, like she hadn't clawed at him and taken everything he'd given her, only to demand more.

She was a damn siren, even in sleep. His body knew it before his mind fully caught up—the pull to her, the way his muscles ached to press back into her warmth, to bury his face in the crook of her neck and inhale the scent of her skin.

She would sigh in that sweet, drowsy way, nuzzle closer, and—without fail—press her perfect little ass against his cock, stretching like a spoiled cat. And when she felt his morning wood, she'd giggle, the sound husky and teasing. Then she'd wiggle, slow and deliberate, until his self-control was nothing more than a vague concept.

He hated that he couldn't do that this morning.

Jaw tight, he glanced down at himself—at the thick, aching outline straining beneath the covers. "Fucking behave," he muttered under his breath, but his cock wasn't listening. How could it? It had been indulged far too much, too often.

Still, he forced himself up, running a hand through his messy hair. He snatched his pajama bottoms from where he'd tossed them the night before—halfway across the room, thanks to Meerab's impatience—and made his way to the bathroom.

The cold water on his face did nothing to shake the image of her—of the way she'd let him stretch her open the night before, voice breaking in those filthy little moans that had him gripping her hips so hard he'd probably left bruises. His fingers curled against the counter.

He should go back to bed. Wake her up the way she always woke him up. She loved when he slid inside her first thing in the morning, sleepy and slow, making her take every inch before she'd even fully surfaced from her dreams.

But work called.

By the time he stepped into the kitchen, his erection had faded to a dull throb—one that wouldn't fully disappear until he buried himself inside her again. He muttered a curse under his breath, popping a fresh pod into the espresso machine. The hum of the machine was familiar, grounding.

His computer was already up and running in his home office, the PearTech logo glowing softly against the dark screen. He settled into his chair, rolling his shoulders as he powered it up. Documents flooded his display—lines of code, reports on hardware overheating issues, notes for the morning's call with Stuart Works.

Fucking Stuart.

Murtasim scowled, fingers flying over the keyboard. This was exactly why he hated weekend calls—the CTO had no damn business being on standby at all hours, but when something broke at PearTech, the execs expected a solution yesterday.

This time, it was a firmware failure in their latest prototype—one that threatened to delay the entire launch schedule. He'd spent half the night trying to isolate the issue, running tests, debugging, but then he had been distracted.

His focus flickered once again.

Even as his mind processed lines of technical jargon, another presence tugged at his awareness. A presence wrapped in soft sheets, waiting in his bed, likely still sprawled the way he'd left her.

He wanted to be in bed with her.

Meerab had been insatiable lately. Not that she ever wasn't. But lately, there was an edge to it—a hunger that kept him constantly aching for her. If he had stayed beside her, she would have woken him up in the best way possible.

She had a habit of taking him in her mouth before he was even conscious, sucking him down so deep he woke up to the wet heat of her tongue, the tight pull of her lips. Or sometimes, she'd just climb on top of him, sink down onto his cock with a breathy little sigh, rolling her hips until pleasure dragged him fully into wakefulness.

His cock twitched at the memory, half-hard again despite himself.

Murtasim exhaled sharply, dragging a hand over his face.

"Focus. She doesn't find unemployed men sexy." He muttered to himself.

If he got through this damn call, he was going back to that bed—and he wasn't leaving it for the rest of the day.

The rhythmic clatter of his fingers flying over the keyboard filled the quiet room, his focus locked on the lines of code before him, fixing the goddamn firmware issue that had Stuart losing his mind. His mind was sharp, his movements precise, but then he heard it.

That sound.

A soft, drowsy mewl, half-sigh, half-pouty little noise—the exact one Meerab made every time she woke up.

Murtasim froze mid-typing, his hands pausing over the keys, his lips twitching before he could stop them. He could picture her perfectly: stretching, long and slow like a cat, arms overhead, back arching just enough to make her shirt—his shirt—ride up, revealing those smooth, golden thighs. She'd frown when she rolled over, reaching for him, only to find the bed empty.

Then—another soft sound, a little frustrated sound.

He smirked.

Sure enough, a second later, he heard the rustle of sheets, the faint creak of the bed as she slipped out, bare feet padding against the hardwood. A sleepy shuffle toward the bathroom, followed by the quiet click of the door shutting behind her.

God, he fucking loved living with her.

His penthouse had once been sleek, modern, and—if he was honest—sterile as hell. White walls, expensive but impersonal furniture, every surface spotless, every detail curated to perfection. Now? Now, it actually felt like a home.

Meerab's touch was everywhere. Candles with scents that made his head swim—vanilla, amber, something floral he couldn't name but loved anyway. Her damn hair clips were scattered on nearly every surface, little jeweled traps waiting to stab his fingers when he reached for his wallet or watch. Throw blankets in soft, ridiculous colors were draped over the couch. And her knickknacks—tiny ceramic dogs, delicate trinket boxes, a miniature Eiffel Tower she'd picked up from a trip years ago—cluttered his once-minimalist shelves.

And he fucking adored all of it.

Just like he adored her.

His focus drifted, the document on his screen momentarily forgotten as he listened, waiting.

It didn't take long.

Her footsteps were light, unhurried, each one sending a pulse of anticipation straight to his heart. He didn't even need to turn; his body knew before his eyes did. A deep ache settled low in his gut, his cock twitching to full, throbbing attention, responding to her like a well-trained fucking dog hearing its master's call.

Meerab appeared in the doorway, backlit by the soft morning light streaming through the windows.

Murtasim's pulse kicked hard against his ribs.

She was wearing nothing but his white dress shirt—oversized, the top few buttons left undone, the fabric slipping off one shoulder, teasing him with a tantalizing glimpse of collarbone and smooth, golden skin. The hem barely brushed the tops of her thighs, revealing just enough of those long, gorgeous legs to have his blood thickening, heat rushing straight to his cock.

Fuck.

His jaw clenched as his mind supplied a fresh image—the reason her hair looked so wild, so perfectly tousled. He had held onto those thick, silky strands just last night, yanking her head back, watching her mouth fall open as he drove into her, stretching her tight, wet cunt with every merciless thrust. He had fucked her into his mattress, more than once, until her voice was hoarse and her legs trembled from exhaustion.

And yet here she was, looking as tempting as ever, as if he hadn't ruined her just hours ago.

"I hate waking up alone," she murmured, her voice husky with sleep as she stepped closer.

Fuck. Even the way she moved did something to him—slow, languid, like she knew exactly what she was doing to him. Her legs were fucking perfect, toned yet soft, smooth and begging to be touched. His fingers twitched at the thought of gripping her thighs, spreading them wide, teasing that dripping little cunt until she was whining, desperate for him to take her.

Instead, he only smiled at her voice, deep and slow, like molasses.

"I'm sorry, princess," he rumbled, his voice rougher than he intended. His gaze roamed her, betraying him completely. "Told you I had a call."

Meerab ignored his excuse, stepping into his space with the quiet confidence that he craved, that made him weak. Without hesitation, she climbed onto his lap, settling herself against him, her bare thighs pressing against his pajamas.

His hands immediately found her hips, fingers digging in, because fuck, she was warm—soft and warm, and all his.

Her arms wrapped around his shoulders as she nestled closer, fitting perfectly against his bare chest, like she belonged there. "Always working," she murmured, voice muffled against his skin. "I missed you."

Something tight coiled in his chest.

His hands slid up her thighs, tracing slow circles as he tilted his head, pressing his lips to hers in a kiss that was slow, deep, and unhurried.

Meerab sighed against his mouth, her fingers slipping into his hair, nails scratching lightly against his scalp, making him groan into her lips. She tasted like sleep, like warmth, like something inherently Meerab.

When she finally pulled back, her lashes fluttering, she smirked.

"You taste like coffee," she whispered, tracing a slow line along his jaw with her fingertip.

Murtasim smirked, running his hands over her thighs, feeling the bare heat of her skin against his palms. "Then have another taste."

She giggled—soft, playful, utterly fucking adorable—before tilting her head and kissing him again. But this time, it wasn't just a sleepy morning kiss.

It was deeper.

Her tongue flicked against his lower lip, teasing, coaxing his mouth open until he let her in, letting her taste him fully. She moaned quietly as she tangled her fingers deeper in his hair, tugging slightly, the way she knew drove him insane.

His hands tightened on her hips, and then—fuck—she shifted, rolling her hips just enough for him to feel the deliberate friction of her against his cock.

Heat flared through his entire body.

His pajamas were thin, offering little resistance to the damp warmth of her pussy pressing right against the thick ridge of his length. There was nothing between them—no panties, no barrier—he had known that.

Because at 3 a.m., he had taken full advantage of that fact.

She had been half-asleep when he'd woken her, pulling one of her legs over his, sliding his cock between her soaked folds and stretching her open from behind. She had whined, all breathy and needy, clinging to his forearm as he thrust into her slow, deep, lazy. Just enough to keep her on the edge, just enough to make her whimper. He had held her there, filled her completely, until her little gasping moans had broken apart in his palm as she came around him.

And now?

Now, she was on his lap, pressing that same bare, wet heat against him, driving him to the fucking brink.

"Fuck me," she whispered against his lips.

His jaw clenched. His cock throbbed painfully beneath her.

"Meerab, I have a call," he forced out. His hands gripped her hips tightly, trying to still her, trying to summon even a shred of self-control. "You can't—"

"Yes, I can," she cut him off smoothly, brushing her lips against the shell of his ear.

Her voice was low, dripping with mischief and something darker—something more desperate. "I'll be good," she promised. "I'll stay still. You can make your call, and I won't make a sound. I just need you inside me. Please."

His cock twitched violently at her words.

God, he fucking loved how needy she was these days, ever since he had put that ring on her finger. Meerab no longer held back, never hesitated to reach for what she wanted. They barely had mornings that didn't start with her moaning his name, her thighs shaking as he ruined her before breakfast.

It was the only thing that made him like mornings.

Knowing he'd wake up to her sighs, her gasps, her tight little cunt wrapped around his cock, milking him before he even rolled out of bed.

She shifted again, just slightly, and his grip on her hips tightened, fighting to keep her still.

But then her hands slid lower, fingers teasing at the waistband of his pajama pants.

"Meerab," he growled in warning, but she only smirked.

The little minx ignored him completely, tugging his waistband down just enough to free him, tucking the elastic under his balls so nothing was in the way. His cock sprang free, thick, heavy, flushed deep with arousal.

Her fingers wrapped around him, warm and soft, stroking him teasingly.

"I said I'll be good," she murmured, tilting her head and kissing him again.

Her hand pumped slowly, lazily, her thumb dragging over the sensitive tip, smearing the precum already leaking there.

Murtasim groaned against her mouth.

"What do you need to talk to Stuart about?" she whispered, her lips brushing his as her hand moved again, teasing him, coaxing him.

He exhaled sharply, forcing himself to focus. "Firmware failure. Overheating issue in the latest prototype. It's delaying the entire launch."

Meerab hummed, still stroking him, her fingers tightening just enough to make his abs clench. "See?" she purred. "You'll be fine."

Meerab slipped out of his lap with a little sigh, standing before him, her fingers idly tracing the edge of his desk. Murtasim was about to ask what she was up to when she turned around, facing away from him, and gripped the hem of his oversized shirt.

His breath caught in his throat as she slowly lifted it.

Fuck.

His hands clenched on his thighs as the fabric slid higher, revealing the smooth, golden skin of her thighs, the curve of her hips, and then—God help him—the bare, perfect swell of her ass.

He groaned low in his throat, unable to resist the pull, leaning forward and sinking his teeth lightly into the soft flesh of her ass cheek.

Meerab gasped, laughing, swatting at him over her shoulder. "You're supposed to be working, Mr. CTO," she teased.

"Don't test me, princess," he muttered against her skin, licking the spot where he'd bitten her.

Her back was to him as she climbed into his lap, her knees settling on either side of his thighs, her ass brushing against his stomach. His hands found her hips instinctively, fingers digging into the soft curves as she reached beneath herself, guiding his cock between her legs.

For the briefest moment, he caught a glimpse of her soaked folds, glistening, split open just enough for the thick head of his cock to press against her entrance.

Then—she sank down.

A ragged groan tore from his throat as her heat enveloped him, her pussy stretching around his cock inch by inch, taking him in with unbearable slowness.

Fuck.

The angle made it even tighter—her legs spread wide over his, her weight pressing her down onto him, forcing him deeper, deeper, until he was buried inside her.

"Fuck," he ground out, his head falling back against the chair, his hands gripping her hips like a lifeline.

The angle was insane—so fucking snug, her pussy squeezing him in a way that made his brain short-circuit. She clenched around him, adjusting, and he gritted his teeth, trying to rein himself in before he lost all control and fucked her into the desk.

Meerab let out a breathy gasp as she took him, her thighs trembling slightly from the stretch. "That's it," she whispered, a smug little purr in her voice.

Then, without another word, she leaned forward, resting her forearms on his desk, laying her head on top of them.

Murtasim swallowed hard.

The view was fucking obscene.

His cock throbbed inside her as he stared, breathless. The way she was folded over the desk, back arched slightly, her ass tilted just enough to accommodate him, her pussy snug and warm and pulsing around him—it was enough to make him abandon all thoughts of work.

She turned her head slightly, looking at him with a lazy, satisfied smirk. "Now you can take your call."

His hands twitched on her hips.

His fingers twitched on her hips, aching to move her, to fuck up into her, to ruin her for teasing him like this. But he had no fucking choice.

Murtasim exhaled through his nose, forcing himself to focus. Keeping one hand firm on her hip to keep her still, he rolled his chair closer to his desk, tapping his phone to dial into the call.

"Morning, Murtasim," Stuart's voice crackled through the speaker after a few rings.

"Morning," Murtasim responded, his voice steady despite the fact that his cock was buried inside his fiancée. "I am guessing we need to get ahead of this issue before the execs start breathing down our necks."

"Yeah, no kidding," Stuart muttered. "This firmware issue is turning into a nightmare. Any luck isolating the main problem?"

Murtasim forced his brain to cooperate, rattling off the necessary details. "The overheating seems to be linked to a power management flaw in the new chipset integration. The thermal throttling isn't kicking in early enough, which means the CPU is spiking past safe temps before the system compensates. The engineers are working on a fix, but it's going to take more than a simple patch."

His own voice sounded almost distant, like it belonged to someone else, because half of his fucking brain was currently between Meerab's legs.

She was keeping still, true to her word, her breathing even as she rested against the desk.

But he felt her.

Every subtle flutter of her walls, every pulse around his cock. It was like a slow, warm hug—velvety, snug, and utterly addictive.

It wasn't even an unfamiliar feeling.

Meerab loved to just sink down onto him and stay there, savoring the stretch, holding him deep inside her while she kissed him, while she whispered against his lips, content to just have him inside her.

Even when they watched movies together, she often ended up like this—straddling him, his cock buried inside her, unmoving for a while, then moving slowly, while the movie played, edging them for hours.

She was insatiable, always needing him in some way, and Murtasim had never been able to say no to her.

But fuck if he could ever control himself when she was like this.

He tried his best though, listening to his boss drone on about the issue.

Which meant that he barely noticed at first.

Meerab's hands had been still, resting on the desk, her breathing slow and even as she let him work—like the perfect, obedient little thing she pretended to be. But then, after a while, he felt her shift slightly, her fingers moving over the mouse.

His eyes flicked down, following the motion as she clicked with casual ease, opening a folder and dragging it onto his second monitor so it wouldn't cover the documents he was referencing.

He should've stopped her.

Should've said something.

Should've been paying attention to Stuart, who was undoubtedly saying something important.

But Murtasim wasn't listening.

Not really.

Not when Meerab was wrapped around his cock like this. Not when her breathing was shallow, her soft little exhales warm against his desk, her body so warm, so still—except for the occasional, involuntary clench of her pussy every time she adjusted just the tiniest bit.

It was driving him insane.

His blood turned molten the second he realized what folder she had opened.

The folder.

The one they had no business keeping. The one locked behind two very long passwords – three whole levels of encryption.

His throat went dry as she typed in the first one, her fingers quick and precise, as if she weren't currently filled with his cock. Then the second—just as long, just as complex.

A muscle ticked in his jaw.

"What are you doing?" he muttered, his voice low, sharp with warning.

Before she could answer, Stuart's laugh crackled through the speakers.

"Oh, you can hear that? My bad. I'm making pancakes for breakfast."

Murtasim barely bit back a groan, dragging in a slow, controlled breath.

Fuck, that was close.

He forced a chuckle, covering the tension thrumming beneath his skin. "Ah, must keep the wife happy."

Stuart snorted. "Damn right. Is Meerab still sleeping?"

Murtasim turned his head slightly, his lips brushing against the shell of Meerab's ear. "Should I tell him?" he whispered, letting the words tease over her skin.

Meerab clenched hard around him in warning, her thighs twitching slightly where they framed his lap.

Little brat. He barely managed to hold back a groan.

He smirked but played along. "Nah, she's out on a run," he answered smoothly, knowing full well it would appease her 'must-look-good-to-the-boss' personality.

The irony of it all wasn't lost on him.

That careful, responsible image she cultivated—PearTech's polished, brilliant Chief Legal Officer, disciplined and dedicated, always in control—was in direct contrast to the woman currently sitting in his lap with his cock buried inside her while he was literally talking to their boss.

And she was only getting bolder.

"Smart woman," Stuart mused. "She's got better discipline than I do. Alright, walk me through the latest test results—where are we at with the fix?"

Murtasim exhaled slowly, gripping Meerab's hip to keep himself grounded. He rattled off the latest updates, voice steady despite the heat curling in his gut. The engineers had managed to tweak the thermal algorithm slightly, and preliminary results were promising, but—

His sentence faltered for half a second.

Because Meerab had just clicked on a video.

A very specific video.

The screen in front of him flickered to life with muted visuals of him—standing behind her, his hands gripping her hips as he bent her over the arm of their couch, his cock slamming into her dripping cunt.

His gut tightened as he watched his on-screen self drive into her with punishing force, her body jolting with every thrust. Even with the volume all the way down, he knew what she had been screaming.

His name. Over and over. Desperate, broken.

Meerab hummed under her breath.

And then she clicked again.

A second video opened, replacing the first.

This time, she was flat on her back in their bed, legs spread wide, her ankles secured to the bedposts with cuffs.

Murtasim barely suppressed a groan as his gaze flicked between her now and the version of her on the screen—the one completely open for him, her pussy stretched around his cock, her mouth parted in soundless moans as he fucked her deep, slow.

His fingers dug into Meerab's hips, his patience wearing impossibly thin.

Then, she turned the volume up.

Just a little.

Just enough for him to hear.

The obscene, rhythmic slap of skin against skin.

The unmistakable wet, filthy sounds of his cock driving into her.

And then—her cries.

On screen, her tits bounced with every thrust, her pussy swallowing him greedily, and in his lap, the real Meerab clenched around his cock.

Murtasim gritted his teeth, his hand tightening on her hip.

This little game she was playing?

It was about to end real fucking quick.

Stuart's voice droned on in his ear, completely oblivious to the absolute fucking chaos happening in Murtasim's lap—and on his screen.

Murtasim was barely holding himself together. Meerab's pussy pulsed around him, clenching in sync with the rhythmic slaps echoing from the video—the one where he had her bent over the arm of the couch, her body jerking forward with every brutal thrust.

Then—fuck.

She clenched down hard, a sharp, involuntary squeeze that sent a jolt of pleasure straight up his spine.

Murtasim hissed, his entire body tensing.

"Shit," he muttered under his breath.

"You good?" Stuart asked, pausing mid-sentence.

Murtasim's brain scrambled for an excuse. "The... dog just bit me."

Silence.

Then—

"I thought you and Meerab were still looking for a dog," Stuart said, sounding completely thrown off. "Did you actually get one already? What kind? Man, you didn't even tell me."

Meerab giggled quietly, shaking against him. As though she couldn't fucking help herself, she rolled her hips just slightly—not enough to be obvious, but enough to make his vision blur.

Murtasim clenched his jaw so hard it ached. He exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand down his face. "We're dogsitting." He swallowed hard when she pulsed around him again. "Getting some practice in."

"Ah," Stuart said, finally satisfied. "Makes sense."

Then, as if nothing had happened, he dove back into the problem, rattling off something about voltage regulation.

But Murtasim wasn't fucking listening.

His entire focus was locked on her.

Meerab's eyes stayed on the screen, her breath hitching as she watched the way he took her in the video. She rested her head back on the desk, her cheek pressed against the wood, just watching—not grinding, not moving, but still squeezing around him.

Each time the video showed him plunging into her, her body reacted—her slick, pulsing walls tightening in real-time around his cock.

She was getting soaked.

Murtasim felt it—her arousal dripping down, slicking his cock, pooling around his length.

"Meerab," he whispered under his breath, his fingers flexing against her hips in warning.

She ignored him.

Her gaze stayed glued to the screen, her lips parting slightly, her breathing uneven. She bit down on her bottom lip, struggling to keep still as her own arousal built higher and higher.

Murtasim was losing it.

His grip on her tightened, his cock twitching inside her as he barely held himself back from yanking her hips down and fucking up into her until she screamed.

"—Murtasim?"

Stuart's voice yanked him back into reality.

Murtasim blinked, his entire body thrumming with tension.

Shit.

He had no idea what Stuart had just asked.

Clearing his throat, he forced his voice to stay steady. "I think the connection is cutting," he said, using every ounce of willpower he had left to sound remotely professional. "Could you repeat that?"

Meerab chose that moment to shift.

Slowly.

Deliberately.

She ground down, just a fraction of an inch, but it was enough to make Murtasim see fucking stars.

His free hand clamped down on her thigh, stopping her in her tracks.

She stilled—but he knew it wasn't going to last.

On the screen, the video reached its climax.

Him pulling out of her soaked, ruined pussy, stroking himself over her trembling body before thick ropes of cum splattered across her stomach, her tits.

Meerab whimpered softly, her entire body tensing.

Murtasim felt it—the way her walls fluttered, how her slick heat throbbed around his cock, how her breathing hitched like she was already on the edge.

She was close.

And it was taking everything in him not to shove her forward onto the desk, grab her hips, and fuck her senseless.

His fingers dug into her skin, his restraint unraveling thread by thread.

He didn't care about firmware.

He didn't care about CPU overheating.

He wanted to tell Stuart to shut the fuck up. To hang up. To disappear.

Because the only thing Murtasim really wanted to do—

Was pound into Meerab until she was moaning his name instead of watching herself do it on a fucking screen.

"Murtasim?" Stuart prompted, clearly waiting for a response.

Murtasim's grip tightened on Meerab's hips, barely keeping himself from groaning out loud as she squirmed against him, her wetness dripping down the length of his cock. His mind was fogged with lust, half of his blood pooled between his legs, and his boss was still fucking talking.

Then, Meerab moved.

He watched as she reached for the keyboard, fingers quick and precise as she opened a blank note and typed:

TELL HIM YOU NEED TO REVIEW IT AND THEN GET BACK TO HIM.

Murtasim exhaled slowly, reigning himself in just enough to make his voice sound composed. "You know what, Stuart?" he said, forcing a casual tone. "I think it makes the most sense for me to just review this on my end and get back to you with notes after."

"Sounds good," Stuart replied easily, not suspecting a damn thing. "We can move onto the —"

But Meerab wasn't done.

She clicked, and another video filled the screen.

Murtasim almost groaned.

This one was filthy.

On-screen, she was pinned against their full-length mirror, facing herself, her hands braced on the glass, fogging up the surface with every panting breath. Behind her, he had her bent slightly at the waist, one hand gripping her throat, the other between her legs, rubbing tight circles on her clit as he fucked her.

He remembered this night.

She had begged him to fuck her in front of the mirror, wanted to see how he wrecked her. And fuck, she had looked so gorgeous—her flushed face, her breasts bouncing with every thrust, the desperate way she had clawed at her own reflection, her mouth forming helpless little 'O's as she came over and over again.

Meerab let out a shuddery breath, her thighs trembling over his lap as she watched it.

Murtasim felt the gush of wetness soak him, felt how completely ruined she was, felt the slick drip down the side of his balls, dampening the waistband of his pajama pants.

And this fucking call was still going.

He gritted his teeth, tuning out Stuart's voice because he couldn't do this anymore. His fiancée was a sopping mess on his cock, trembling, panting, so fucking wet she was leaking all over him.

Murtasim's patience snapped.

"I'll review all of this and get back to you with notes later," he said abruptly. "Enjoy your breakfast, let's talk in the evening."

Before Stuart could even reply, Murtasim hung up, tossing his phone onto the desk.

Meerab barely had time to react before his hands were on her.

He grabbed her wrists, twisting them behind her back with one hand, pinning them there as he stood, pushing her forward onto the desk. She let out a surprised gasp, her breath hitching as he yanked his pajama pants down, his cock slapping against her soaked folds.

Then—he thrust up into her.

Hard.

Meerab let out the prettiest little groan of his name, her voice breaking into a drawn-out, "Murtasimmmmmm," as he stretched her open all over again.

"Such a fucking tease," he growled, his voice rough with pure, raw lust.

She gasped, lifting her head off the table as he drove into her, each thrust harder than the last, each stroke reaching so deep it had her toes curling.

"I didn't make a sound," she protested breathlessly, but the words dissolved into a helpless moan as he slammed into her sweet spot.

Murtasim smirked darkly.

"No," he murmured, "but you're about to."

Meerab hummed at that—so fucking pretty, so willing—like she knew he was about to ruin her.

"Such a needy little slut for me," he whispered against her ear.

Then, with his free hand, he reached for the keyboard and turned the volume on the computer up.

Meerab's head snapped up, her gaze locking onto the screen just as her own image flickered across it, another video playing.

There she was—riding him on the couch, her hands cupping her tits, rolling her nipples, her mouth parted in a blissed-out expression. His hands were gripping her waist, guiding her movements, watching her bounce on his cock, taking him so perfectly.

Murtasim groaned, his eyes flickering between the screen and the real Meerab—bent over his desk, wrists pinned behind her back, her body milking him as she took every deep, punishing thrust.

He had her.

And he was about to fucking wreck her.

But he needed to see her.

With a sharp breath, Murtasim pulled out of her, his cock slick and throbbing from being buried in her tight, wet heat. Meerab let out a little whiny sound at the loss, her body clenching around nothing, her thighs trembling.

Fuck, he loved that sound.

Letting go of her wrists, he pulled her up, gripping her waist as he moved her toward the emptier side of the desk. She let him manhandle her, completely pliant in his grasp, her breath still uneven from how he had been pounding into her seconds ago.

Then, he turned her around.

And he devoured her.

Their mouths crashed together, hungry, desperate, his hands gripping her ass as he kissed her like he was trying to swallow her whole. Meerab moaned into his mouth, clawing at his shoulders, dragging her nails down his back. He lifted her onto the desk, never breaking the kiss, his lips moving feverishly against hers as his hands slid up her thighs.

He reached for the buttons of the shirt—his shirt—undoing them one by one, growing impatient and simply pushing it open, baring her completely.

She fell back against the table, spreading out for him, her body a fucking masterpiece.

Murtasim's breath hitched, his eyes dark as they raked over her.

"So fucking sexy," he muttered, voice rough, full of raw, unfiltered need.

His gaze drank her in—her gorgeous tits, nipples tight and aching, her tiny waist, the soft dip of her stomach leading to the perfect flare of her hips, her thighs, and the absolute mess between her legs, glistening, wet, dripping for him.

Meerab pouted, her fingers grazing over her own stomach as she sighed dramatically. "Stop staring and fuck me."

His jaw clenched.

Then he moved.

His hands slid under her thighs, lifting them effortlessly, hooking her knees over his broad shoulders as he stepped closer to the desk. Her back arched, her bare toes curling, anticipation making her whole body tighten beneath him.

He teased her first, pressing the thick head of his cock against her soaked entrance, sliding it through her folds, making her shudder.

Then—he drove himself in.

Hard.

Her tight pussy resisted for a split second, forcing him to grip her hips harder, pinning her in place as he plunged in with a sharp, brutal thrust.

The desk screeched against the floor, slamming into the wall with an echoing BANG.

Meerab cried out, her head snapping back, hair cascading over the edge of the desk as she took every thick, stretching inch of him.

"Ohhh—fuck, yes!"

Her hands shot to her tits, squeezing them, rolling her nipples between her fingers as her moans turned into shameless cries.

The sight of her—spread out, writhing beneath him, her body arching, taking every pounding thrust—made his control shatter.

Murtasim growled, leaning over her, his voice dark and thick with lust. "How are you always like this, princess?" He slammed into her, making her gasp. "Always fucking ready for me. At any time, any fucking place—" Another sharp thrust. "Needy little thing, dripping for my cock while I'm on a work call."

Meerab moaned, her head rolling back against the desk, her body soaking him as her walls squeezed him like a vice.

"You love it, don't you? Being a little slut for me?" he murmured, one hand trailing up her stomach, grazing over her ribs before closing around her throat, tilting her head just enough so she had to look at him.

"I do," she breathed, voice breaking.

"Yeah?" His fingers tightened just a fraction, not enough to hurt, just enough to make her eyes darken with raw need. "Good fucking girl."

She whimpered, her nails digging into the wood of the desk as she writhed beneath him.

Her walls fluttered, squeezing him impossibly tight, each thrust sending jolts of pleasure up his spine.

Her moans grew louder, rawer, filling the air as her body surrendered completely. "Yes, yes, yes, just like that," she panted, rolling her hips up to meet every deep, brutal stroke.

Murtasim leaned down, capturing her mouth in a messy, desperate kiss, his teeth clashing against hers, their tongues tangling as his cock drove deeper, harder, hitting that perfect spot inside her—

Meerab broke away, gasping, her forehead pressing against his as her voice spilled over him, needy, desperate.

"So deep... fuckkkk... harder."

Murtasim smirked against her lips, his breath hot, teasing. "You want harder?" he rasped, his cock throbbing inside her. His hands tightened on her thighs, his thumbs pressing into the soft flesh. "Say please."

She whined, the sound high and so fucking sweet before finally getting out a breathy, "pleaseeeee."

That was all he needed.

His grip turned bruising as he yanked her closer, her ass barely balancing on the edge of the desk as he slammed into her with unrelenting force.

The desk creaked dangerously beneath them, groaning with every brutal thrust, but Murtasim didn't give a fuck. All he cared about was the way her pussy gripped him, clung to him like she never wanted to let go.

The way she trembled.

The way she moaned his name like a fucking prayer.

His hands slid up her sides, trailing over her slick, overheated skin, cupping her breasts, squeezing possessively. He leaned down, wrapping his lips around a tight, aching nipple, sucking it into his mouth.

Meerab cried out, her hands tangling in his hair, holding him there, her entire body arching into him as he lavished her with attention.

One of her legs slipped from his shoulder, falling around his waist, giving him even deeper access. He groaned into her skin, his tongue swirling around the stiff peak before grazing it with his teeth.

Then, his other hand trailed lower, slipping down her stomach, fingers pressing right there.

Right where he knew she could feel it.

His cock buried deep inside her, stretching her, hitting every spot that made her body shake.

She gasped, her back arching off the desk.

"Murtasim, I'm gonna—fuck, I'm gonna—" Her voice broke into a strangled moan as her orgasm crashed over her.

Her walls clamped down around him, pulsing, tightening, her entire body trembling uncontrollably.

Her slick gushed out of her, soaking his cock, dripping down, making an absolute mess.

Murtasim growled low in his throat, watching her fall apart, completely lost in pleasure.

"Good girl," he praised, his voice dark and rough.

But he didn't give her time to recover.

Gripping her waist, he pulled her off the desk, her body still twitching from aftershocks, her legs weak. He dropped into his chair, spreading his thighs wide, his cock still thick and aching for her.

Then, he turned her around, guiding her onto his lap, her back pressing flush against his chest.

He bit the soft curve of her ass, making her whimper as she positioned herself over him. Her soaked, trembling pussy brushed against the head of his cock, teasing them both.

"Spread your legs," he ordered, reaching for his phone.

Meerab obeyed without hesitation, her thighs falling apart as he propped the phone up on the desk. The screen flickered to life, capturing everything—the glistening mess between her legs, the way his cock stood slick and waiting, the way her body shivered in anticipation.

His voice was dark, hungry. "Sit down."

She lowered herself slowly, her breath shuddering as she sank down onto him, her cunt swallowing him inch by inch.

Murtasim groaned, his head falling back against the chair as her heat enveloped him, her tightness almost unbearable.

His gaze flickered between her and the screen.

On the monitor, he watched—his cock disappearing into her, her arousal slicking his length, making him glisten under the dim office light.

"Look at you," he murmured, his hands gripping her hips, guiding her. "Taking me so fucking well. Watching yourself do it—so perfect."

Meerab's breath hitched at his words, her thighs flexing as she moved—lifting herself just a little before slamming back down.

"Fuck," she gasped, her hands flying to his knees for balance.

She found a rhythm, slow at first, teasing, but the pleasure built—her hips moving faster, her moans turning into broken cries as she rode him with reckless abandon.

Murtasim could barely breathe.

His hands dug into her waist as he watched her—both in front of him and on the screen—her body bouncing, her pussy swallowing him greedily, over and over again.

And fuck, he wasn't sure how much longer he could hold back.

"Give me a show, baby," Murtasim muttered, his voice thick with lust. His fingers tightened on her hips, guiding her movements as she rocked on his cock. "I need something to watch when I'm away next week."

Meerab let out a soft, breathy moan at that, her lashes fluttering as she turned her gaze to the screen.

She bit her lip, her pupils blown wide with pleasure, before bringing her hands up to cup her tits. Slowly, deliberately, she squeezed them, rolling her hardened nipples between her fingers, arching into her own touch.

Her hips moved in slow, sensual circles, grinding down onto him, making him feel every slick, pulsing inch of her.

Murtasim groaned against her skin, trailing his lips along her shoulder, pressing open-mouthed kisses up the side of her neck. He nipped at her jaw, licking over the bite when she whimpered, his hands splaying over her stomach as he watched.

Watched how his cock disappeared into her, how her greedy pussy swallowed him whole, over and over again.

"Take all of me," he ordered, his voice rough, his breath hot against her ear.

Meerab mewled but nodded, her legs widening, her movements slowing as she sank deeper onto his cock, taking him, rocking until all of him was inside her, every inch, until her mouth fell open, her head tilting back in pure, wrecked pleasure.

"Such a good little slut for me," he moaned, his hand sliding down her stomach, pressing right there.

Fuck.

He groaned when he felt it—the tight, impossible pressure around his own cock, the way she clenched around him as he pushed down.

Meerab whimpered, her entire body trembling.

"Good girl," he praised again, whispering against her ear. "Ride me like this."

She obeyed, moving slow, deep, her body rocking in steady waves, her moans soft and sweet, her breath hitching every time his cock pressed into that perfect spot.

Murtasim's grip on her hips was possessive as he rasped, "So perfect, princess."

Her breath caught, her body jerking when his hand slid between her legs, rubbing tight circles over her clit.

Her moans broke apart, desperate, high-pitched cries filling the air.

"Yes, yes, yes," she chanted, voice hoarse, her movements turning erratic, frantic. "Murtasim—I can't—oh God, I can't—"

"You can," he growled, hooking her thighs over his arms, spreading her open completely.

And then he fucked up into her.

His cock slammed into her sweet spot with every stroke, his thrusts deep, brutal, relentless.

Meerab screamed, her hands clawing at his thighs, her entire body shaking as he pounded into her.

"Be a good little slut and cum for me, princess," he muttered, his fingers working her clit with ruthless precision.

"Murtasimmmmmm!"

She keeled, her voice breaking as her orgasm slammed into her.

"Murtasim! Yes! Yes! Fuck—fuck—ohhhhhh!"

Her body convulsed, her pussy gushing around him, her slick coating his cock, dripping down his thighs.

But he wasn't done.

Before she could fully recover, he gripped her waist and lifted her off him, turning her over, bending her over the desk.

Her chest pressed against the cool surface, her ass high in the air, her thighs still trembling from the intensity of her orgasm.

Murtasim snapped his hips forward, sheathing himself back inside her in one brutal thrust.

Meerab gasped, her hands flying up to brace herself as he started pistoning into her, hard, fast, unrelenting.

The sound of their bodies colliding was loud, filthy, echoing off the walls of his office.

"Fuck, Meerab," he groaned, his control unraveling as his climax built.

Her moans were frantic, high-pitched, desperate. "Yes, yes, yes!" she sobbed, taking everything he gave her, her pussy milking his cock, her body completely, utterly his.

Murtasim's pace stuttered, his grip tightening, his entire body coiling with pleasure.

With one final, deep thrust, he buried himself inside her, his cock pulsing as his orgasm hit, spilling deep into her, filling her up.

His grip loosened, his body collapsing over hers, his breath hot against her skin as they both came down from the high.

His lips found the back of her neck, pressing a lazy, lingering kiss against her damp skin.

His voice was hoarse, rasping in her ear.

"You're going to kill me one day, babe."

Meerab hummed softly beneath him, her body still trembling slightly, her breath warm against the desk.

Then, with a lazy, satisfied sigh, she murmured, "Good morning."

Murtasim huffed out a laugh, his chest shaking against her back. "Good morning? You're saying that now?"

She shifted beneath him, tilting her head slightly to look at him over her shoulder, a sleepy smile playing on her lips. "Mmmhmm."

Chuckling, Murtasim slowly sat back, wrapping his arms around her waist as he pulled her right back onto his lap, settling her against him. She let herself melt into his embrace, her head resting against his shoulder as he pressed soft kisses into the damp skin of her neck, her shoulder, anywhere he could reach.

"Good morning," he muttered against her skin, letting his hands stroke over her back, grounding her.

Meerab sighed, completely relaxed, pressing a soft kiss to his jaw before mumbling, "You need to feed me after fucking me like that."

Murtasim smirked, his fingers teasing at her waist. "I have something to feed you."

Meerab whined, swatting at his chest. "Food, Murtasim."

He laughed, his grip tightening around her as he kissed her again, lingering this time. "Alright, alright. I'll order breakfast from your favorite place."

She hummed in approval, snuggling into his chest. "You should also give me a massage."

Murtasim raised a brow. "Really?"

"Mmhmm." She stretched slightly, arching her back, still feeling the aftershocks of his relentless fucking. "You put a ring on it, so now you must do what I say. It's in our contract."

Murtasim chuckled, pressing one last kiss to the top of her head before murmuring, "Yes, ma'am."

"Murtasim?"

"Hmm?"

"I love you," she muttered making him grin.

"I love you too, princess."

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Author's Note: Tadaaaaaaa! What do you think? What was your favourite part? Hehe.