Chapter 156: Naughty Husband
Their breaths began to steady, the heat of their passion lingering in the air like an intoxicating perfume. Mira knelt beside him, her long hair cascading around her shoulders in soft waves, glowing in the dim light that filtered through the room. She looked down at Zamian, a smile playing at the corners of her lips as she gently pushed him to lie back on the bed. His broad chest rose and fell beneath her touch, each movement slow and deliberate, his heart still racing in response to the intensity of their shared moment.
"My turn, honey," she whispered, her voice low and sultry, the words dripping with intent as a mischievous smile curved her lips.
Zamian’s mind scattered at her words, his thoughts slipping away like grains of sand in an hourglass. He couldn’t focus. His pulse raced wildly, a throbbing rhythm that matched the fluttering sensation in his chest. Her eyes—those deep, shimmering pools of temptation—glimmered with mischief, a silent promise of what was to come. It was the way she looked at him, like he was hers to devour, that had his body burning with desire. There was something about the way she claimed the moment, the way she held his gaze, that made him feel vulnerable, exposed. Her power was undeniable.
She straddled his abs, her bare skin brushing against his, her warmth pressing against him in a way that had his body tightening, his breath catching in his throat. Slowly, deliberately, she began to move her hips, teasingly slow, her wetness gliding over him. The sensation was almost too much to bear. A deep groan rumbled in Zamian’s chest, escaping his lips before he could stop it. His hands moved instinctively, reaching for her, desperate to touch, to hold her.
But she stopped him.
"Don’t," Mira commanded, her voice a soft yet firm whisper. It wasn’t a demand; it was a plea, a command wrapped in the sweetness of her voice. She gently pushed his hands away, her touch a reminder of her control.
Zamian could do nothing but watch, his dark eyes clouded with lust and desire, his body aching with the need to touch her. But he obeyed her unspoken command, his restraint hanging by the thinnest of threads. His hands clenched at his sides, his fingers trembling with the effort of holding back.
Mira took full control, her hands sliding over his sculpted abs, tracing the ridges of his muscles with deliberate slowness. Each movement was a study in patience, savoring the way his body responded to her touch. She smiled to herself, enjoying the way his breath hitched with each movement, the way his body tensed beneath her fingers. She loved how he surrendered, how he let her lead.
"Mira..." he groaned, the sound low and guttural, the rawness of it stirring something deep inside her. She could feel his restraint, the way he fought to hold back the animal instinct that threatened to consume him. The sight of him like this, so vulnerable, so desperate for release, sent a thrill of power through her.