Forbiddenly Bound To You
Chapter 156: Naughty Husband

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.

She moved lower, her lips brushing against his earlobes as she sucked lightly, her teeth grazing the sensitive skin, just enough to earn another groan from him. Her mouth trailed down to his neck, her kisses growing bolder, more urgent, as her teeth scraped against his skin, marking him, claiming him. Zamian’s body responded instantly, his breath coming in ragged gasps, his pulse thudding loudly in his ears. But still, he obeyed her unspoken command not to touch.

And then, she reached it.

Her small hand wrapped around his throbbing length, her fingers trembling slightly as she began to stroke him. At first, it was slow, careful, but her grip was firm, sure. She took her time, exploring every inch of him, savoring the way he reacted to each stroke, the way his body quivered beneath her touch.

"Damn, my love... please..." Zamian moaned, his voice rough and strained, the sound sending shivers down her spine. The raw need in his voice, the desperation, was intoxicating. Mira’s heart pounded in her chest, her own desire stirring in response, but she remained in control. Her hands worked him, alternating between slow, teasing strokes and faster, more purposeful movements. She could see the way his body tensed, the way his muscles flexed under her touch. His breath grew heavier, and his eyes darkened with lust, but she wouldn’t give him what he wanted—not yet.

Mira smiled, a sense of satisfaction blooming in her chest as she watched him unravel beneath her. She loved this feeling—this power she held over him. His reactions spurred her on, pushing her to continue. When one hand wasn’t enough to contain his impressive size, she brought her other hand to join, her fingers working in tandem. She alternated the pace, teasing him, torturing him, until his groans grew louder, his hands balling into fists as he fought to control the urge to touch her, to pull her closer.

Zamian groaned louder, his head falling back against the pillow as his body tensed under her touch. His groans turned to growls, primal and raw, as her pace quickened, becoming more purposeful. Mira’s hands began to tire, but she didn’t stop. She couldn’t. She was determined to see him through, to bring him to the edge.

"I’m coming..." Zamian growled, his voice thick with need, his words barely coherent.

With one final stroke, he reached his peak, his release shuddering through him. Mira felt the tension leave his body as his breaths slowed, his chest rising and falling beneath her. She let go, her hands falling to her sides as Zamian pulled her to him, his strong arms enveloping her. His body was still trembling, his heart racing, but he held her with an overwhelming tenderness.

He pressed a soft kiss to her forehead, his breath warm against her skin.

"I love you," he whispered, his voice filled with both reverence and exhaustion. There was a vulnerability in his words, a rawness that only made Mira’s heart ache with affection.

Mira smiled, her fingers brushing against his cheek, tracing the lines of his jaw as she leaned in to kiss him. "I love you too, my naughty husband."

They stayed there, wrapped in each other’s embrace, the silence of the night surrounding them as they basked in the warmth of their love. It was a quiet kind of intimacy, the kind that transcended words. They didn’t need to speak anymore. The connection between them was clear, unspoken, and unbreakable.

************

The soft sound of running water filled the room as Mira sank into the large bathtub. The water, heated perfectly, swirled around her, its warmth seeping into her bones, relaxing the muscles that had tensed during the night. She leaned back, her eyes fluttering shut as she let the peace of the moment wash over her. Her thoughts drifted to their little one—their baby. She was eager to meet her child soon, to hold them in her arms, to share breakfast together as a family. The thought of it made her smile, a soft, contented smile that reached her eyes.

Zamian had still been asleep when she slipped out of bed to bathe. She hadn’t wanted to disturb him, but now, as she soaked in the warmth, the quiet of the bathroom was broken by the sound of the door creaking open. Mira’s heart skipped a beat, her body tensing in surprise. Her instincts kicked in, and she quickly covered her chest with her arms, the sudden intrusion catching her off guard.

"Zamian!" she exclaimed, her voice a mix of surprise and a blush of embarrassment creeping up her neck.

Zamian chuckled, his deep voice resonating through the room with a teasing tone. "Morning, darling," he said casually, as though his presence was the most natural thing in the world.

Mira’s cheeks flushed, her heart racing as memories of the night before flashed through her mind. The intensity of it all, the connection between them, left her feeling raw and exposed. She glanced up at him, her breath catching in her throat as she realized he was completely naked. His confidence, so unabashed, left her flustered. Her fingers gripped the edge of the tub for support as she tried to steady herself, but it wasn’t easy. His body was a tempting sight, his broad shoulders and strong physique on full display.

"Let’s bathe together," Zamian said, his tone light, but his eyes gleaming with mischief, a playful edge to his words.

Mira shook her head quickly, standing up from the tub and reaching for the towel that hung on the rack. "No," she managed, her voice firm, though it trembled slightly with uncertainty. She wrapped the towel tightly around herself, trying to shield her body from his gaze.

But before she could make it to the door, Zamian’s strong arms encircled her from behind, pulling her against his chest. The warmth of his body against her back sent a shiver through her. His unmistakable arousal pressed into her, sending another wave of heat through her own body. She froze, her body stiffening as she felt the weight of his presence, the power in his embrace.

"Zamian..." she whispered, her voice barely above a breath.

He chuckled again, a low, seductive sound, before his grip loosened, and he stepped back, allowing her some space. "Relax, my love," he said gently, moving toward the shower. The sound of the water turned on, the cascading flow of it a stark contrast to the stillness of the room. He began to wash, his movements slow, deliberate. "I don’t mind if you watch me for a while," he added playfully, glancing over his shoulder at her, his smirk curling the edges of his lips.

Mira’s cheeks burned, the heat radiating from her face as she quickly moved toward the vanity. She grabbed a towel to dry her hair, her movements hurried and focused, her eyes avoiding his even though every fiber of her being wanted to glance at him.

The sound of the shower ceased, and Zamian grabbed a towel to dry off. As he wrapped it around his waist, he took a sip of water from the glass left on the counter. "I’m surprised the maids didn’t bathe you," he remarked, his tone casual, though there was an underlying curiosity in his words.

Mira faltered for a moment, her movements slowing as she turned to face him. The reminder that they were in the palace sent a flash of displeasure through her. The thought of someone else—one of the maids—assisting her felt entirely too personal, too intrusive. She shook her head, the discomfort lingering in her chest.

"Zamian..." she began softly, her voice serious, a slight edge to it. She didn’t want to confront him about this, but she couldn’t shake the unease that settled within her.

He hummed in response, his dark eyes meeting hers. There was a hint of amusement lingering in them, but she could tell he was waiting for her to say more.

"Do the maids bathe you?" she finally asked, her tone softer than she intended, tinged with both curiosity and a small flicker of jealousy.

Zamian raised a brow, a smirk playing at his lips. "Would it matter if they did?"