Forbiddenly Bound To You
Chapter 118: Unleash desire

Chapter 118: Unleash desire

Zamian, taken aback, stared at his wife, her legs still wrapped around his waist in surprise. He was left speechless—when, exactly, had Mira become this shameless? The silence in the room made it clear just how caught off guard he was. It felt as though everything had shifted in the blink of an eye.

"Or do you need me to undress you myself?" she murmured, batting her lashes. Zamian’s eyes widened, his body stiffening as her words stirred something deep within him. It was a slow burn of desire, one he hadn’t felt in a long while. The last thing he expected was his shy, innocent wife to be the one to make the first move like this.

He moved to reach for her.

"Nuh-uh... hands to yourself," she teased with a playful smile, holding her position as if to challenge him.

"Mira... I can’t do that," he replied, his voice tight as he struggled to keep his composure. It was like handing a child an ice cream and telling them not to eat it until they got home—impossible. Her beauty, her confidence, it was all too much.

Mira pulled away, walking over to the wardrobe. She picked up a tie and returned, leaving Zamian speechless. Since when had his shy, innocent wife turned this bold? Her cheeks still carried a soft pink flush, betraying her nervousness, but she was pushing herself to try something new, something daring.

"Your hands, honey," she whispered, tracing her fingers slowly over his hands, following the lines of his veins. His strong arm shook slightly as a low groan escaped his lips. His muscles tensed under her touch, betraying the effect she had on him. Her fingers moved with deliberate slowness, the anticipation driving him wild.

Taking his hands together, she began to tie the black tie around them securely. Her gaze locked onto his as she bit her rosy lips seductively. The sight of her—so innocent yet so bold—left him speechless. He had always been in control, but now, it seemed like she was the one pulling the strings.

"That reminds me... let’s begin our lesson," she said with a teasing tone, her cheeks flushed a deeper pink, but she was determined. Tonight, she would be the one in control.

Slowly, she began unbuttoning his shirt, taking her time as though she had all the time in the world. Each button she undid was a slow burn, adding fuel to the growing fire between them. The room was thick with tension, and every movement seemed to make the air heavier.

"Damn, Mira, tear the damn shirt!" he groaned, exasperated. His patience was wearing thin, but Mira’s innocent pout only seemed to intensify the moment. She giggled softly, her eyes sparkling with mischief, but still, she didn’t tear it.

"But didn’t I say I wanted to scold you... hmm, my love?" she teased, her voice light as she stepped back, leaving Zamian at a loss for words. His frustration was building, but the playful gleam in her eyes made it hard to stay mad at her. He had always thought he knew Mira, but this was a side of her he had never seen before. He didn’t know whether to be angry or to admire her daring nature.

She moved to a drawer, pulling out a pair of scissors. Even if she unbuttoned his shirt, she realized, it wouldn’t slide off easily with his hands tied. She glanced at him, eyes glinting with a mix of mischief and excitement, and it only made his heart race faster.

Returning to him, she began carefully cutting the fabric, her movements precise, as though measuring every snip. The sound of the scissors slicing through the fabric echoed in the room, each cut a reminder of the control she now had over him. He could feel the tension growing, the anticipation nearly unbearable.

"F*ck, Mira," Zamian groaned, his patience wearing thin. His voice was low, strained, as he fought to maintain some semblance of composure. Mira held back a smile, enjoying the way she was making him squirm.

"What’s wrong, honey? I just thought I could practice my tailoring... maybe I could become a designer. Let me practice on my dear husband," she said, her voice soft but laced with mischief. She was testing him, pushing him to his limits.

"Mi—"

"Shraa!" The fabric tore suddenly, catching him off guard. The force of the rip startled him, his breath hitching in his throat.

"Oops... tailoring might not be for me," she giggled, covering her mouth like a mischievous villain savoring a small victory.

Mira looked down at the pieces of fabric in her hands, a small laugh escaping her lips. She had done it—she had torn his shirt, and now he was completely at her mercy. His chest was now exposed, and she couldn’t help but take in the sight of his perfectly sculpted muscles, his body strong and firm. She traced her small hand over his skin, feeling the heat beneath her touch. He was a masterpiece, and now she was the artist.

When she finally looked up, she saw him sweating, his lips half-bitten as he tried to remain composed. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, his jaw clenched in effort, and she could see he was struggling to keep himself in check.

Her hand traveled down to trace the lines of his V, her voice soft and teasing. "So handsome... Prince Charming, or should I say King Charming?"

Zamian groaned in response, the words escaping his lips before he could stop them. His patience was fraying. He wasn’t used to being so out of control, but Mira was slowly breaking down every wall he’d built around himself.

At last, she began to pull down his pants.

"Mira, that’s enough. You’ve scolded me enough—stop being so damn slow," he growled, his voice thick with desire, his patience hanging by a thread. His body was on fire, his control slipping with every passing second.

"Be careful, Boo. The more you curse, the slower I get," Mira teased, her eyes glinting with mischief. Zamian growled in response, his body tense with pleasure he had never felt before. This woman—his wife—was driving him to the edge. She knew exactly how to push him, how to make him lose himself in her, and she was enjoying every second of it.

As she finally pulled down his pants, his hardness strained against his boxers. Mira’s fingers traced over him, almost as if sketching, and she tried not to gasp at his size. She had known he was strong, knew the way he carried himself with such dominance, but this was something else. His body was beyond her expectations.

She glanced up, catching his heated gaze, and, without realizing, licked her lips. A spark ignited in his eyes, a silent challenge. The fire in his stare burned hotter, and the tension between them crackled with a promise of what was to come.

"I think I should be an artist," she murmured, a playful smile dancing on her lips. Was she seriously considering new career options right now? She was definitely playing some game with him, and he had no idea how far it would go.

"Rate my drawing, dear husband," she whispered, her hand finally wrapping around him through the fabric, her touch gentle but deliberate. She was driving him insane, and he didn’t know how much longer he could hold on.

Zamian groaned, his voice thick with restraint. "A 10. Damn it, Mira, just stop this."

She tilted her head, smiling like a seductive villain finally trapping her prey. "I said no cursing, and yet you just did."

He stared at her, both in disbelief and admiration. She had transformed from his shy wife to this enchanting temptress, pushing his patience to its very edge. Her playful teasing, her unrelenting confidence, it was all too much. He was losing himself in her, and yet he couldn’t bring himself to stop her.

"You know what," she continued, her voice softening as her hands slipped lower, "maybe art isn’t for me after all." Her fingers finally slipped beneath his waistband, and her cheeks flushed deeper as she touched him directly for the first time. The warmth and firmness surprised her, sending a thrill through her. This was a whole new world for her, one she was just starting to explore, and she wasn’t sure what she was doing, but it felt right.

But then, she pulled her hand back, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Oops. I forgot—you cursed earlier."

Before she could react, Zamian had pulled her onto the bed, his grip firm as he moved with a swiftness she hadn’t anticipated. He wasn’t wasting any more time. His patience had run out.

"Shraaa." The pajamas he’d gifted her tore in his hands, the fabric ripping under his strength. His voice was low and breathless as he looked down at her. "I’d like to scold you too, but right now, I can’t wait a second longer."

Mira’s eyes widened in shock. She had tied him so tightly—how had he broken free? Her gaze dropped to his wrists, only to find the tie torn in half. Did he break it with sheer strength?

A smirk played on Zamian’s lips as he leaned closer. "I can only be patient if you’re my doctor, Mira."