Author's Note: Hi everyone! Apologies for the delay with this update, I was travelling and busy! Sorry for worrying some of y'all -  I do tend to put out little updates/tweets on Twitter (@/misskaahaani) when I am expecting to be away. 

Thank you for all the love for the last chapter! I am so glad so many of you enjoyed it. Onto the next one -- this one wasn't a planned chapter, I just got carried away because of all the thirst traps Wahaj has been posting and felt like writing smut. So, this chapter is mostly fluff & smut featuring a sheer red saree on Meerab, a date, Murtasim going crazy, and some photography (as you can see from the risqué header), hehehe. See you on the other side!

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"Where are you taking me?" Meerab whined as her husband handed her a gift bag.

"It's a surprise," Murtasim said, grinning that stupid perfect grin of his.

She pouted, her lower lip jutting out. "I hate surprises."

"Liar," he teased, putting the bag on the bed behind her before cupping her face and squeezing it gently.

"Shtop it!" She whined, her words muffled by his playful grip.

He chuckled and placed a kiss on her forehead, his lips soft and warm, making her heart flutter. The tenderness of the gesture made her feel cherished, and she couldn't help but smile despite her mock annoyance.

"Shaitaan," she muttered as he pulled away, a hint of affection in her voice.

"It's been a while since you've called me that," he teased, his hand still cupping her face, thumb caressing her cheek in slow, soothing strokes.

"You're annoying again," she quipped, but her tone was light.

He snickered, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "Everything is annoying to you these days."

"I'll stick a watermelon to you and see how you like it," she grumbled, crossing her arms over her chest. Her back hurt, her feet hurt, she was always tired, constantly hungry, and just when she got comfortable, she needed to pee. "Your daughter keeps kicking my bladder!" she whined, her voice tinged with frustration.

Murtasim sighed, dropping to his knees in front of her and placing his hands gently on her swollen belly. "Meri choti shehzadi, I told you to stop doing that. You can't bother my wife like that, please," he muttered to her stomach, his tone soft and cajoling before pressing a kiss to her tummy.

He chuckled as their daughter kicked against where his lips were. "That better be you agreeing with me," he said, placing another kiss on her belly over her kameez.

Meerab sighed, yet there was a fondness in her expression. "It's probably a 'you wish,'" she said, shaking her head but unable to suppress the smile tugging at her lips, she had a feeling she was going to give birth to a feisty baby.

Murtasim looked up at her, his eyes filled with love and admiration. "She's just like you—strong-willed and feisty."

"We're in for trouble," she sighed.

"A little," he laughed, standing up and wrapping his arms around her.

He held her close, his hand resting protectively on her stomach.

"Go out with me. You're always stuck in the house these days. You'll like a change in scenery."

"I have to pee every five minutes," she whined. She hated going out because it was hard to find a clean, hygienic bathroom every five minutes.

"It's close by, and there's a bathroom there," he promised, his tone coaxing and reassuring.

"Tell me where we're going first," she pouted, narrowing her eyes at him.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "The same place we went on what you call our first date but was actually our third."

She rolled her eyes, giving his arm a playful whack. "I told you, the golgappe and the dinner in the courtyard don't count."

He sighed again but chose not to argue, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Go on a date with me," he smiled, his eyes soft and full of affection.

"Fine... only because I liked the food there," she said nonchalantly, though her heart fluttered with excitement at the prospect of another date at the same place.

He laughed, a warm, rich sound that made her smile, and nodded. He reached out to the bag he had put down and slid a box out of it, handing it to her.

The box was elegantly wrapped, its gold and beige paper shimmering under the soft light of the room. She sat down and carefully untied the satin ribbon, letting it slip through her fingers, and peeled back the wrapping paper, revealing a sturdy, plain brown box beneath. As she lifted the lid, her breath caught in her throat.

Inside, nestled among layers of delicate tissue paper, was a rich, deep red fabric of soft chiffon. It was plain, but the luxurious fabric shimmered so prettily that it didn't need anything more.

"A saree?" she asked Murtasim, looking up at him to find him smiling at her and nodding.

"Now?" she said, placing a hand on her stomach.

He nodded, his eyes darkening a little with an emotion that sent a shiver down her spine. "Especially now."

She rolled her eyes but couldn't help the smile that spread across her face, her cheeks flushing a bit. She had recently spiralled over the comment one of Maa Begum's friends had made at the baby shower about watching her husband closely because men strayed when their wives were pregnant, even though she knew Murtasim would never.

But for a moment she hadn't been able to shake the fear that he might find her less attractive. Yet, Murtasim's appreciation of her pregnancy was unwavering. Every time he looked at her, his eyes filled with undeniable desire.

He had made love to her more times than she could count, always whispering words of adoration and love. Even when she felt her most vulnerable, he would wrap his arms around her, his touch gentle yet passionate, his lips trailing kisses across her skin as if worshiping her. He would often tell her how much he loved her body, especially now, and how incredible it was that she was carrying their child. His hands would trace the curve of her belly with reverence, and he'd kiss every inch of her, making her feel like the most beautiful woman in the world.

She looked up at him now, her heart swelling with love, he looked between her face and the saree in anticipation.

Beneath the saree lay a matching coat, designed to provide both warmth and an added layer of modesty. She lifted it out, the coat unfolding gracefully in her hands. It was made from the same deep red fabric, with intricate embroidery—flowers in creams, pinks, and red, like a garden. The full-length coat had long sleeves, the hem of both the coat and sleeves matching the blouse, all designed to complement the flow of the sari beneath.

"This is beautiful," she whispered, her fingers tracing the delicate embroidery.

"I thought you'd like it," he said softly, stepping closer and placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. "And you'll look stunning in it."

She looked up at him, her eyes shining with love. "It's pretty."

"It'll look even better on you," he said, his eyes twinkling with admiration.

"You're so cheesy," she replied, even as her heart warmed. He was so cute. "You have to wait outside, at the door," she told him firmly.

He pouted. "Why?"

"I don't trust you," she teased.

It was partially that and partially that she no longer trusted herself to resist when he looked at her a certain way.

He sighed dramatically, causing her to giggle.

"You say dinner, but then we won't go anywhere," she narrowed her eyes at him.

"It's not my fault you're so tempting," he pouted again.

She giggled. "You're much too easily tempted."

"Have you seen yourself?" he scoffed, his gaze roving over her with an intensity that made her blush.

She rolled her eyes playfully, trying to mask the fluttering in her chest.

Murtasim stepped closer, leaning in, his hand going to her stomach. "Isn't your ammi absolutely gorgeous, meri choti shehzadi?"

Meerab gasped as she felt a kick and Murtasim grinned widely. "See, even she knows it.

"Go! And send Maryam to help, my stomach is too big for me to drape this myself," she said, trying to push him away gently.

"I can help," Murtasim grinned mischievously.

She whacked him playfully. "Shaitaan!"

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If Meerab was honest with herself, she had to admit she hadn't felt as pretty as she did the moment she stepped out of their room in the outfit Murtasim had gifted her. The rich, deep red sari and the matching coat hugged her figure perfectly, accentuating her pregnant belly. The delicate embroidery on the bodice shimmered under the soft lighting, adding a touch of elegance to her look. Her hair, styled in loose waves, cascaded down her back, and the light touch of makeup highlighted her natural beauty. The look of sheer admiration in Murtasim's eyes made her feel like she was beautiful.

As soon as Murtasim laid eyes on her, he let out a loud, appreciative groan that echoed in the room. His eyes flickered over her, taking in every detail, and she couldn't help but giggle at his reaction. She turned carefully, giving him a full view of the look, her heart fluttering with joy.

"You're a goddess... and if that means I'm bound for hell, then so be it," he groaned, his voice husky with desire.

Meerab pouted playfully, facing him again. "I don't want to be all alone in heaven," she said, her voice tinged with a teasing whine.

Murtasim smiled and closed the distance between them, his hands gently cupping her face. His touch was warm and tender, sending shivers down her spine. "Don't ruin my makeup," she warned.

He groaned again, squeezing her face a little and pecking her lips very lightly. "You're gorgeous," he murmured, his eyes filled with adoration.

"You're not so bad yourself," she replied, her eyes sweeping over him appreciatively.

Murtasim was dressed in a crisp, white suit that accentuated his frame.

The tailored jacket hugged his broad shoulders and tapered down to his narrow waist, emphasizing his build. The white fabric contrasted sharply with his complexion, making him look even more striking. His hair was neatly styled, though a few rebellious strands fell over his forehead, adding a touch of effortless charm. The top few buttons of his white shirt were left undone, revealing a glimpse of his tanned chest, a sight that made Meerab's heart race.

She pouted, her fingers going up to button his shirt. "Watch the waitress hit on you again," she muttered, remembering the last time they had gone to the restaurant and the blatant flirting he had endured.

He snickered, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "I'll tell them my wife, the mother of my child, the love of my life, is ordering," he grinned, the words making her heart swell with love.

She rolled her eyes as he smiled at her, his face lit up with joy. He was devastatingly handsome, and she couldn't even blame other women for being drawn to him. Her fingers trailed up from his shirt buttons to his neck, feeling the warmth of his skin under her touch. She smiled as she watched him gulp, his Adam's apple bobbing.

"Or we can stay here..." she muttered, teasing, her voice low and suggestive.

Murtasim's eyes darkened with desire, and for a moment, it seemed like he might give in to her teasing. But then he groaned, "Stop it."

She snickered, enjoying the effect she had on him.

"I wanted to take that saree off you last time we went on a date...but then you wouldn't have let me, and I am barely controlling myself right now, meri jaan, so don't tempt me," he muttered, looking at her in that way that made her stomach flutter and heat rush through her.

She nodded, "Let's go then."

He sighed and grabbed her hand, bringing it up to his lips and kissing it tenderly. "I am taking this off you when we get home," he muttered.

She nodded again, feeling the warmth of his kiss lingering on her skin. She smiled as she caught sight of his cufflinks, the same lion ones she had gotten him what felt like ages ago. "You know you can wear other cufflinks, right?" she teased.

He shook his head, "My wife gave them to me."

"I should buy you more," she muttered as he led her out of the room towards the door.

As they stepped past the living room, Maryam ambushed them. "Wait, let me take a picture!" she yelled, taking out her phone.

Murtasim sighed but stood still, a small smile playing on his lips as Maryam directed them.

"Stand closer together," Maryam instructed, snapping away. "Meerab, put your hand on his chest."

Meerab complied, placing her hand over his heart, feeling its steady beat under her palm. Murtasim wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her close, his hand finding the bare skin at the side of her stomach despite the coat covering her.

She looked up at him, arching her eyebrow but he just grinned.

Maryam took a few more shots, adjusting angles and lighting – clearly the love for photography wasn't limited to just Murtasim.

"Now look at each other," Maryam said, grinning.

Meerab looked up into Murtasim's eyes, getting lost in the warmth and depth she found there. His gaze softened, filled with so much love that it made her heart skip a beat. They smiled at each other, and Maryam quickly captured the moment.

"Perfect!" Maryam exclaimed, satisfied with her work.

Just then, Maa Begum strolled in, her face lighting up when she saw them. "Mashallah, you two look gorgeous," she smiled warmly. She then turned her attention to Murtasim, her voice taking on a more serious tone as she began imparting a million instructions. "Make sure she doesn't trip in that saree, help her if she needs to sit down, and don't let her stand for too long..."

Murtasim could only sigh and nod, the unspoken "do you think I won't" clear in his eyes. He patiently listened to his mother's instructions, his hand never leaving hers.

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"There's two sides to a table for a reason, Murtasim," Meerab told her husband when he sat beside her rather than across from her.

"Haan, but this way I can look at you and touch you," he grinned, his eyes sparkling with mischief and affection.

The waitress giggled as she handed them the menu, her eyes flickering between the two of them.

Meerab blushed, "I am sorry, he's – "

The waitress shook her head. "No need to apologize, it's adorable." She looked at Meerab warmly. "I'll give you a moment to look through the menus, but the special today is the satay chicken. No raw food for you, obviously," she added with a grin, "but any other dietary restrictions we should know of?"

"No fish," Meerab smiled.

The waitress nodded, scribbling something down. "Can I start you off with any drinks?"

"Lemonade?" Meerab asked.

"Of course. And for you, sir?"

"Lemonade as well," Murtasim said.

She nodded and rushed off.

"She's nice," Meerab smiled, noticing that the waitress hadn't looked at Murtasim for longer than necessary.

Murtasim snickered, "why?"

Meerab muttered under her breath, "she kept her eyes to herself."

Murtasim chuckled as she browsed the menu. She could feel his gaze fixed on her, his fingers running up and down her arm and her back, teasingly pulling on the ends of her hair. He leaned in and took a deep breath, inhaling her scent.

She turned to him, arching her eyebrow. "What are you doing?"

He grinned, "You smell good."

"Stop," she said, trying to sound stern but failing as a smile tugged at her lips.

He shook his head, leaning in and pressing a kiss to her ear. "Can't help it," he whispered, his breath warm against her skin.

Meerab felt a shiver run down her spine, her heart fluttering in her chest.

"Murtasim," she sighed, trying to maintain her composure despite the flutter in her chest.

"Meerab," he repeated, his voice lower, more intense.

"I am hungry," she said, hoping to redirect his focus.

His eyes flickered to her lips, and he smirked. "Me too."

She pushed his face away from her playfully, causing him to chuckle. "Fine, let's eat," he said, finally picking up the menu. "What do you want?"

"I can't decide between the satay chicken and rice, the achari shredded beef tacos, or the masala pasta," she confessed, her eyes darting between the options on the menu.

He snickered, shaking his head. "They're all so different, meri jaan."

"I know," she pouted, feeling overwhelmed by the choices. "I don't know what I want."

"We can get all three," he suggested with a smile.

"That's too much food," she protested.

"No, there's three of us here," he said, his hand trailing across her side, under her pallu, to her bare stomach. He smiled as he felt a kick, his touch gentle.

Meerab grinned, the warmth of his hand on her belly making her heart fill with warmth. "I don't think she can eat that much."

"Of course she can," Murtasim replied confidently.

Meerab pouted, her fingers brushing his wrist. "But I also want dessert."

"There's always room for dessert," he said, his grin widening. "I'll tell her to move a little to give your stomach more room."

"Murtasim," she said, shaking her head at his silliness.

He hummed, looking at her expectantly.

"Shut up," she said, but there was no real anger in her voice, only affection.

He laughed softly, his thumb brushing her cheek. "I thought you liked it when I talked."

She rolled her eyes.

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As Murtasim navigated through the dimly lit streets, his attention constantly flickered between the road ahead and the enchanting presence beside him. Meerab sat comfortably in the passenger seat, her cute feet propped up in his lap. He gently massaged her ankles and feet, his fingers tracing soothing circles over her skin, feeling the warmth and slight swell caused by her pregnancy.

The radio played a soft tune in the background, a perfect accompaniment to the moment. Murtasim stole glances at her, admiring the way the streetlights painted soft, fleeting shadows on her face. She looked serene, a small, contented smile playing on her lips as she closed her eyes and leaned back against the door – she had claimed to be in a food coma and situated herself like that as soon as they got in the car.

He began to hum along quietly to the song playing on the radio, the familiar lyrics rolling off his tongue quietly amidst the humming as he massaged her feet and navigated through the traffic.

He glanced over at Meerab as they came to another stop, and found her eyes open, she was grinning at him, her eyes sparkling with amusement.

Encouraged by her reaction, he sang a little louder, the words flowing effortlessly. "Haan sikha maine jeena jeena kaise jeena..." he sang, his voice gentle and filled with affection.

Meerab laughed, her face lighting up with joy. "Your sister said you didn't sing in front of others," she teased, her voice playful.

He met her eyes, his heart overflowing with love. "You're not others," he said simply, his thumb brushing over the top of her foot.

Her grin widened. "You're such a charmer," she said, her tone light.

Murtasim continued to sing, his voice now stronger and more confident. "Sacchi si hain yeh taareefein, dil se jo maine kari hain..." He paused, looking at her with a smirk.

He loved the smile on her face as he continued singing softly and massaged her feet. "Are you sure you don't want anything? You skipped dessert." He asked, wondering when she would sigh quietly and softly said Murtasim followed by a sheepish request for something specific.

She shook her head. "I'm sure."

"You're really, really sure?" he pressed, his tone playful.

Meerab's smile faded as she narrowed her eyes at him. "I am sure. Stop asking me."

"But you'll crave it later," he teased, glancing at her with a knowing look.

She glared at him, her frustration evident. "Sorry for being so troublesome, not like I am growing a whole baby or something," she snapped, trying to pull her feet from his lap.

He held onto her feet, his grip firm but gentle. "Stop, I was just asking," he said, his voice soothing.

She continued to glare at him, but he couldn't help the chuckle that escaped his lips, she was so damn cute.

"Stop laughing at me," she demanded.

"I can't help it, you're so cute when you're angry," he grinned, glancing at the road and then back at her.

She tried to maintain her glare, but as he increased the pressure of his massage, her irritation melted away, replaced by a contented sigh. "Fine, keep doing that," she murmured, closing her eyes and leaning back again.

Murtasim smiled as he drove on, continuing to massage her feet with his other hand.

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Back in their room, Murtasim couldn't take his eyes off Meerab as she stood in front of the mirror taking off her earrings. The vibrant red chiffon saree clung to her curves, accentuating the swell of her pregnant belly even underneath the matching coat. She looked radiant, the sheer fabric highlighting her glowing skin.

She glanced at him through the mirror, her eyebrow arching slightly.

A small, knowing smile played on her lips, and Murtasim felt a surge of need coursing through him.

Murtasim approached her slowly, his heart pounding. His fingers brushed her shoulders, sending shivers down her spine, as he slipped off the thin coat, leaving her in the sleeveless blouse and saree he had carefully chosen for her. He took a step back, his eyes drinking in the sight of her through the mirror. The red fabric shimmered in the dim light, hugging her body in a way that left him breathless.

There was something about Meerab in the color red—she was gorgeous in anything, but in red, she was an absolute siren. It reminded him of their wedding day, the day that followed their walima, and every time since that she had worn red.

She had always managed to steal his breath away.

In red, Meerab was more than just a vision - she was an incarnation of his deepest desires. The way the red hue embraced her, it was as if the color itself had been crafted solely to adorn her.

"I love you in red," he whispered, his voice husky with desire, as he leaned in to kiss her ear.

She shivered at his touch but hummed in response, her eyes meeting his through the mirror. "I know," she said, her voice a soft murmur.

With a gentle touch, he reached for the pallu, the long end of the saree draped over her shoulder. He pulled it off her slowly, revealing more of her form. She watched him with dark, smoldering eyes, her breath hitching in her throat. The saree's fabric cascaded down, pooling at her feet, leaving her more exposed.

She always looked good, but right then—her belly round with his child, her breasts fuller, her skin glowing—she looked beyond gorgeous. She was the epitome of beauty. He almost didn't know how to cope with it—how could someone be so breathtakingly beautiful?

"Why'd you stop?" she asked, her voice a soft whisper, begging to be undressed.

"You're gorgeous." He muttered, his voice laced with awe.

Her lips curved into a small smile.

He smiled, his hands gliding over her shoulders, his touch feather-light. "I want to see something," he replied, his eyes never leaving hers.

He wanted to see her wrapped entirely in red, to bask in her beauty.

She nodded immediately, her teeth catching her red-painted lip. The sight made his thoughts scatter, and he had to shake himself to focus, resisting the overwhelming urge to kiss the red off her lips.

His hands moved her hair over one shoulder, exposing the smooth skin of her back. He leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to the nape of her neck, feeling her shiver under his touch. Her scent, a mix of vanilla, rose, jasmine and something uniquely hers, filled his senses.

She let out a soft "Murtasim" that sent heat rushing straight to his hardening cock. The way she said his name, filled with need and longing, made him ache to claim her.

His fingers deftly untied the strings of her blouse, the only thing holding it to her. He had chosen it knowing she'd cry if the blouse didn't fit her, but the added bonus was that it slid off her shoulders and arms easily, falling to the ground. Her breasts were revealed in the mirror, the sight taking his breath away.

He sighed, his eyes drinking in the sight of her—her creamy skin and her contrasting nipples, taut and inviting. He cupped her breasts, his fingers gently squeezing them, and she moaned, the sound sending a thrill through him. Her skin was so soft, so warm, and he loved how perfectly her breasts fit into his hands, how heavy and soft they felt.

"Murtasim," she moaned, moving back a little, resting some of her weight back against him. The feel of her against his chest, her warmth, and her scent were driving him wild.

"Meerab," he groaned, his voice thick with desire at the neediness in her voice.

He reached for the sheer pallu, draping it over her bare breasts. The fabric clung to her skin, enhancing the curves and contours of her body, her nipples visible through the sheer fabric. It was a fantasy he didn't know he had until that moment – the red against her bare skin, a stunning contrast that made his breath hitch.

"You're so gorgeous," he whispered, his breath hot against her ear. His hands roamed over her body, tracing the lines of her curves, memorizing every inch of her. He kissed her shoulder, her neck, the side of her jaw, as his hands trailed over her body, over her saree covered breasts and her pregnant stomach, covering her with the fabric.

Slowly, he pulled at the pleats of the saree, the bottom sliding off her until it pooled on the floor. She stood before him in just her petticoat, the sheer fabric of the pallu still clinging to her breasts, her hand resting on the fabric that covered her swollen stomach.

Her beauty took his breath away.

With one quick pull, the petticoat was gone, pooling at her feet, leaving her in only her matching red panties. Murtasim's breath caught in his throat as he reached down, his hands trembling with anticipation. He hooked his fingers into both sides of the delicate fabric and ripped them off, the sound causing her to gasp.

"You have to stop doing that," she groaned, but the way she bit her lip and the soft flush spreading across her cheeks told him she liked it.

"I told you, I'll buy you more," he whispered, his voice filled with possessive desire. "They're mine to rip off."

She rolled her eyes, but he pinched her nipple through the fabric of the saree, and she gasped, her eyes closing, head falling back against his chest.

"What are you doing?" she muttered as he grabbed the saree again, wrapping it around her haphazardly.

He covered her just enough – the sheer pallu draped across her chest, the delicate fabric teasingly revealing the curves of her breasts, her nipples visibly hard through the translucent material. The same sheer pallu continued over her swollen stomach, hugging the curve of her pregnancy and accentuating her beautiful form.

He wrapped the saree around her hips and thighs, the rich red fabric clinging to her skin, highlighting every contour. The saree barely covered her up to her knees, some parts sheer, offering tantalizing glimpses of her creamy skin beneath. He tucked the end into the waistband at her hip, securing it but leaving it loose enough to look enticingly disheveled.

The effect was breathtaking. She stood before him, wrapped in red chiffon that both concealed and revealed, a vision of sensuality and elegance. "Covering you in red," he whispered, his voice rough with desire.

The sight of her, pregnant with his child, draped in nothing but red chiffon, was the sexiest thing he had ever seen. His arousal was almost painful, his desire for her overwhelming.

"Look at yourself," he whispered into her ear, his breath hot against her skin.

She opened her eyes and did. The reflection in the mirror was almost too erotic to be real. Her skin glowed, the red fabric clinging to her curves. She looked like a goddess, and she could see the way he was looking at her—like he was starving.

"Every time you wear red, it drives me crazy," he muttered, his hands trailing up and down her body, pulling the fabric taut so he could see her body through it—her nipples, the shape of her breasts, her stomach which he lingered on. "I want to devour you."

She shivered at his words, the heat in his gaze, the way his hands moved over her. "Murtasim..." she breathed, her voice filled with need.

He smirked, his hands squeezing her breasts through the fabric, making her gasp. "You're so fucking beautiful," he growled. "Let me take a picture of you like this," he whispered into her ear, his voice husky with need. His breath was hot against her skin, sending shivers down her spine.

The idea of capturing her like this, wrapped in red, made his cock ache.

She had let him take pictures once—on their honeymoon—of her spread out on the bed and sofa in lingerie. Just thinking about the pictures he had stored away made him harder. He remembered her spread out on the bed in black lingerie, her back arched up, her nipples pushing against the sheer lace bra, and matching panties that left little to the imagination. The way her body had looked, so inviting, so perfect, was forever etched in his mind.

He thought of her bent over the side of the bed, her legs apart so he could see her long legs and her perfect body, the sheer material barely covering her. The light had caught her curves just right, making her look like a goddess. Her hair had fallen over one shoulder, exposing the delicate line of her neck, and her eyes had been dark with desire as he took pictures.

Then there were the pictures of her on the bathroom counter, the marble against her skin as she leaned back, her fingers teasing her nipples through the lace of her bra. The steam from the shower had made her skin glisten, and the look of pure need on her face had driven him wild.

On the sofa, he had helped her pose with one leg draped over the armrest, her head thrown back, exposing her neck, her fingers trailing down her stomach to the waistband of her panties. The soft light from the lamp had bathed her in a warm glow, making her look ethereal.

In the kitchen, she had been on the counter, her legs spread wide, the tiny thong barely covering her, her fingers gripping the edge as he took her picture from between her legs. The look of anticipation on her face, the way her body had quivered with need, was something he would never forget.

He had even taken pictures while fucking her—his cock sliding into her perfect pussy, covered in her wetness. The way she had looked up at him, her eyes filled with lust, her mouth open in a silent moan, had been the most erotic thing he had ever seen.

But right now, in this moment, she was somehow sexier than all of that. Murtasim met her eyes through the mirror, his gaze questioning, filled with a burning desire that mirrored his own.

She nodded, her eyes filled with the same burning desire. He walked over to the cabinet where his camera was, pulling it out in haste. Even though he knew dropping it would be catastrophic, he didn't care right then.

She was looking at him as he walked towards her, biting her lip. The sight of her, so vulnerable and yet someone who held so much power over him, made his heart race. He couldn't help but close the distance between them, his desire overwhelming him.

He kissed her wildly, pouring all of his pent-up need and love into the kiss.

She moaned, kissing him back just as hard. Her hands moved with a desperate urgency, pushing his white blazer off his shoulders and reaching for his shirt. She wanted him just as much as he wanted her, she always did, and it made his desire for her burn even hotter.

He pulled away, but she let out a disappointed whimper. Unable to resist her, he captured her lips again, their mouths moving together. His hands tangled in her hair, pulling her closer as he deepened the kiss, ruining her lipstick.

Her hands were just as eager, her fingers fumbling with the buttons of his shirt. She managed to undo a few, her hands slipping inside to touch his bare skin. The feel of her hands on him sent a shiver down his spine, and he groaned into her mouth.

They were both gasping for breath as he pulled away, their chests heaving.

"Murtasim, please," she begged, her voice a soft plea that sent a thrill through him.

"Shhh, lay down on the bed, meri jaan," he muttered, his voice thick with desire, his cock aching.

She complied, allowing him to help her. He carefully situated her on her back, adjusting the saree to drape her just right. The chiffon was just one layer, thin enough to cover her but sheer enough to showcase the beauty of her form beneath.

He stood back up, his eyes drinking in the sight of her. She looked up at him with a look that made him want to forget everything and just take her right then and there, but he remembered how much he loved the other pictures.

Holding the camera, he looked through the lens at the picture she presented. Sultry, sexy, and better than anything in the world. He groaned softly as he took a picture, each click of the shutter echoing in the room.

He had never liked taking pictures of humans, but he loved her as a model. Every curve, every expression, every inch of her was perfection to him.

"Hold your breasts, cup them from the bottom up," he instructed, his voice a husky whisper.

"Murtasim," she sighed, her breath hitching.

"Do it, meri jaan," he urged, watching as she complied.

He groaned at the sight, her hands cupping her fuller breasts through the red fabric, her nipples larger and more sensitive than the last time he had taken pictures of her.

"Squeeze," he muttered. She did, biting her bottom lip as she followed his command. The sight was almost too much for him to bear, and he let out another groan.

He reached down, placing his hand on her stomach, spreading his fingers out. Her hand rested atop his, and he took a picture of her bump. They had many pictures of her growing stomach, taken weekly in the same spot, but this was different. This was for them.

When she saw pictures of herself like this, those doubts that clouded her mind about no longer being attractive to him would stop. There was no way she could look at these and say she was anything less than perfect.

"Look at you," he whispered, his voice filled with awe. "So perfect."

He let his hand trail up from her stomach to her breasts, squeezing them firmly and reveling in the way she gasped his name. "Murtasim," she moaned, her voice a breathy whisper that sent a shiver of desire through him.

Grinning, he trailed his hand to her neck, wrapping his fingers around it and squeezing lightly. The camera clicked as he held it with his other hand, capturing the moment. His favorite picture from last time was one of him straddling her, his hand wrapped around her neck, choking her gently as she looked up at him with sultry eyes, clad in her black lingerie. He could cum to the thought of that picture alone, remembering how he had taken her shortly after.

It had been just like this, a moment where he couldn't resist any longer. Like then, he put the camera aside and leaned down, pressing kisses into her perfect red lips, smudging her lipstick further. He kissed down her neck and body, over the chiffon, the fabric feeling delicate and smooth against his lips.

He kissed his way down her neck, his lips trailing over her skin, leaving a trail of heat in their wake. She moaned, her hands in his hair, pulling him closer and pushing him further down her body.

He licked, bit, and sucked on her nipples through the chiffon, making her moan and writhe beneath him. Her hands tangled in his hair, pulling and pushing him closer. He loved how the fabric darkened where he had been, wet spots showing evidence of his kisses. The sight of her breasts, wet and glistening through the sheer fabric, was intoxicating. She writhed beneath him, her moans growing louder, more desperate.

Pressing kisses to her stomach, he nuzzled it over the fabric before pushing it away, kissing her bare skin. She sighed, her body relaxing under his touch.

He looked up at her, his eyes filled with love and desire. "I am going to miss you like this," he muttered, his voice thick with emotion. He kissed her stomach again, savoring the feel of her round belly against his lips.

She smiled down at him, her eyes brimming with love. "I love you," she whispered, her voice tender and sweet.

"I love you too," he replied, kissing her stomach once more before moving off the bed. He pulled her slightly until her legs were hanging off the side, positioning himself on his knees between them.

She let out a moan as she pushed up onto her elbows. "I can't see you with my stomach in the way," she whined, her frustration evident.

"You don't need to see, meri jaan. Just relax," he whispered, running his hands up her thighs, kissing and nuzzling them. He pushed the saree fabric up until she was bare, the smell of her arousal and the heat between her legs making him groan with desire.

He let his fingers trail up her soaking slit, spreading her wetness around, parting her lips. The moment he touched her, she let out a soft gasp that sent a thrill through him. The sight of her bare and glistening, the smell of her arousal, made his own need almost unbearable.

He buried his face between her legs, devouring her like a man starved.

His tongue licked long, slow stripes along her slit before plunging inside her, fucking her with it.

She moaned loudly, her hips lifting off the bed to meet his mouth.

He sucked her clit into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it, feeling the way it pulsed and throbbed under his touch. Her taste, a mix of sweetness and musk, filled his senses, driving him wild.

Her cries of pleasure filled the room, each "Murtasim" she chanted pushing him to please her even more. Her moans grew louder, more desperate as he continued to lick and suck, his beard becoming soaked with her wetness. He loved the way her body responded to him, the way her hips bucked and her thighs trembled.

"Murtasim," she gasped, her voice breathy and strained as she reached the edge of her pleasure.

He grinned against her, sucking harder on her clit, his tongue flicking rapidly. He could feel her body tensing, her muscles tightening as she neared her climax. And then she was coming, her body writhing, her hips lifting off the bed as she screamed his name. He lapped at her, his tongue working to prolong her orgasm, loving the way she tasted and the sounds she made.

Her legs closed around his head, but he didn't stop. He continued to lick and suck, even as she sobbed and tried to move away. He slid his fingers into her, curling them against her g-spot, moving rapidly. His other hand held her hips down, keeping her in place as he flicked and sucked on her clit, her pleasure the only thing on his mind.

"Murtasim, please," she cried out, trying to push him away.

He didn't relent, his fingers pumping in and out of her, curling against her g-spot as he sucked on her clit. Her cries grew louder, her body trembling with the intensity of her pleasure. She was sobbing his name, her voice hoarse and desperate, trying to push him away.

"That's it, meri jaan," he murmured against her clit, his voice low and rough. "Give me one more. I want to feel you come again."

She was shaking, her body wracked with pleasure as he continued to fuck her with his fingers, his mouth working her clit. He could feel her building again, her muscles tightening, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps.

And then she was coming again, her body arching off the bed, her cries echoing in the room. He lapped at her, his fingers moving rapidly, prolonging her pleasure until she was a trembling, quivering mess beneath him.

He moved away, rubbing her thighs and stomach as her legs spasmed, each gentle touch sending residual shivers of pleasure through her body.

She looked up at him, her eyes dazed and filled with satisfaction – he loved her like this.

He pulled at her saree, wiping his face with the sheer fabric. The saree was a mess around her, barely covering her breasts, her stomach completely exposed. Unable to resist, he leaned in and nuzzled her belly, kissing the soft skin, loving the little giggle she let out.

With a gentle push, he moved her up the bed a little, turning her onto her side rather than her back, handling her like she was a pliant doll. She hummed softly, watching him with half-lidded eyes as he began to undress. He took off the cufflinks, followed by the white shirt, his pants, and boxers. His cock sprang free, hard and eager, bobbing towards his stomach, aching to be inside her.

Her eyes drifted down to his cock and then back up to his face, anticipation clear in her gaze. He chuckled softly as he slid into bed behind her, pulling her back against his chest, spooning her. He pressed a tender kiss to her shoulder, his lips lingering on her warm skin.

"Get to it," she whined as he bit her shoulder lightly, her voice breathy with need.

"So needy," he teased as he turned her face towards him, capturing her lips in a passionate kiss. His hand moved to lift her leg up and back across his thigh, opening her up to him, lining up his cock with her entrance. He groaned as he felt the heat of her, sliding into her slowly.

She bit his lip, making him pull away, gasping.

"Okay?" he asked, his voice strained.

She nodded, letting out a little mewl of pleasure as he filled her completely.

He began to move, fucking her slow and deep while kissing her.

His hand played with her breasts, squeezing and teasing her nipples before trailing down and caressing her stomach, before they finally made their way between her legs to her clit. He rubbed it in slow, deliberate circles, matching the rhythm of his thrusts.

Her breathing became ragged, each breath a soft moan as he drove into her. The feeling of his cock moving inside her tight heat was overwhelming. Her body responded to his every touch, her hips moving in sync with his thrusts.

"Murtasim," she gasped, her voice a mix of desperation and pleasure. He groaned, feeling her tighten around him.

His free hand moved to her face, tilting it back so he could kiss her deeply. Their tongues danced together, the kiss messy and heated. He fucked her harder, his thrusts becoming more intense. She cried out against his mouth, her nails digging into his arm as she clung to him.

He could feel her getting close, her body tensing, her moans growing louder. He rubbed her clit faster, his thrusts deep and powerful. "Let go for me, Meerab," he whispered against her lips.

Her body arched against him, her head falling back onto his shoulder as she groaned out his name. Her orgasm ripped through her, her walls clenching around his cock, milking him. He groaned, feeling her wetness coat him as he continued to thrust slowly.

He didn't stop, even as she spasmed around him. He kept fucking her, his hand moving between her legs, playing with her clit. She was crying out his name, her body trembling with the intensity of her pleasure.

"Fuck, Meerab," he groaned, her body writhing in his arms. The sight of her, the sounds she made, the way she felt around him – he loved it.

But it wasn't enough for him. His desire for Meerab was insatiable. He rolled onto his back as he slid out of her, the loss of her warmth momentarily making him shiver, and making her whimper as her eyes opened, finding his.

He moved her gently, helping her get up on her knees. The saree fell completely off her, leaving her utterly exposed. Her hands instinctively went to her stomach, holding it protectively as she stared down at him, her eyes dazed and filled with lust.

He reached up, guiding her to straddle his thighs. His cock, still hard and throbbing, brushed against her heat. "Ride me," he whispered, his voice thick with need.

She moaned softly, nodding as she positioned herself over him. He helped her slide onto his length, her warmth enveloping him inch by inch. Her mouth opened in a gasp, her eyes closing as her head fell back. The sensation of him filling her completely made her moan, the sound music to his ears.

He loved watching her like this, her body moving with instinctual grace. She didn't move up and down; instead, she rocked back and forth, her hips grinding against him. Her mouth opened in a gasp with each movement, her eyes fluttering closed in pure ecstasy. He loved watching her get off using him like this.

His hands trailed up her naked body, fingers playing with her breasts. He lifted his head, capturing one of her nipples in his mouth, sucking and nibbling as she moved above him. He could feel her body respond, her walls tightening around him with each suck. His other hand rubbed her belly, gently caressing.

She looked right at him, her eyes dark with desire as she put her hands on his chest, rocking faster. "Please, Murtasim," she begged, her voice a desperate plea as she squeezed her walls around him.

She was a vision, riding him with such need and grace, her body glowing with the sweat of their exertion. Her hair cascaded around her shoulders, her skin flushed with pleasure. Every rock of her hips, every moan that escaped her lips, made his heart flutter and his cock ache.

Unable to hold back any longer, he thrust up into her, loving the way she screamed his name. Her movements became more frantic, her body tightening around him as she chased her release. He matched her pace, thrusting up into her with deep, powerful strokes.

The tension built between them, a crescendo of pleasure that finally broke. She cried out, her body spasming around him as she came, her walls milking him. He followed her over the edge, filling her up with his release, his own groans mingling with her sobs.

The room was filled with the sounds of their heavy breathing, their bodies glistening with sweat. She slumped forward a little, exhausted and sated. He sat up, still inside her, being mindful of her stomach, and pressed kisses into her face and hair, his hands rubbing her back soothingly.

"I love you," he whispered against her skin, his voice filled with emotion.

She hummed, muttering something that sounded suspiciously like, "I love you" as he held her.

She leaned back a little after a minute, looking at him with eyes filled with adoration. "I have no energy," she whispered, her voice barely audible.

He nodded, pressing a gentle kiss to her nose. "I've got you," he murmured, pulling her off him and moving her so she sat in his lap sideways. Her arms wrapped around his neck, and he slid his arm under her knees, holding her bridal style as he picked her up and carried her to the bathroom with careful, deliberate steps.

He placed her gently in front of the door that led to the small space with the toilet, giving her a moment of privacy before walking over to the shower. He turned it on, letting the water heat up. A minute later, she emerged from the toilet, waddling towards the shower with one hand on her stomach. He took her other hand, guiding her in and helping her sit on the stone bench as he grabbed the shower wand.

"My makeup," she muttered, closing her eyes as he held the shower wand over her body, soaking her hair and face gently. He chuckled softly, knowing how particular she was about her skincare routine. He hummed, grabbing her face wash and the little facial cleansing machine she cherished.

He squirted the face wash into her awaiting hands, watching as she rubbed it between her palms before lathering it onto her face. She always scrubbed harder than he would, which is why she had forbidden him from doing this part. When she was done, she held her face towards him, her eyes closed, and he pointed the wand at her face again, washing off the cleanser before handing her the facial cleansing machine with a bit more soap on it. She spent a good minute washing her face again while he grabbed the shampoo and lathered her hair, massaging her scalp. He loved the little content sounds she let out, those small sighs and hums of pleasure.

He loved her like this. He had never really thought about what relationships were like—just vague notions of companionship and sex—but moments like this, where she implicitly trusted him to take care of her, meant everything. It was a level of intimacy and love he hadn't known existed. He would have never guessed he'd be doing this, but he loved every bit of it.

After thoroughly massaging her scalp and rinsing her hair, he moved on to soaping her up. His hands glided over her body, the lather covering her curves, the sensation both soothing and intimate. She sat on the bench, letting him take care of her, her eyes closed in contentment.

He rinsed her off, loving the content smile she gave him as he did.

As he soaped himself up, he could feel her eyes on him, trailing over his body while she pressed water out of her hair.

"Stop looking at me like that, meri jaan," he warned playfully.

She shrugged with a mischievous smile. "I am not looking."

He snickered, "I am sure," he said, pointing the shower wand at her again, causing her to shriek and glare at him.

He laughed heartily, enjoying her gaze as he finished rinsing off.

Grabbing their towels, he helped her dry off before wrapping one around his waist and leading her out of the shower.

She giggled as she pulled his towel off while walking past him, leaving him scrambling to grab it. She walked toward the vanity, grabbing her hair dryer with a satisfied smile. He rolled his eyes, standing beside her as she dried her hair.

Occasionally, she would blow dry his hair too, making them both laugh.

He got out the cream Dua had recommended for stretch marks, rubbing it gently into her skin as she focused on her hair. Each time he pressed a kiss somewhere on her skin, she giggled, the sound like music to his ears. She seemed almost sleepy as he rubbed her legs, her eyes drooping as she relaxed under his tender touch.

He moved back to her stomach, rubbing it gently, tapping at different spots to see if their choti shehzadi was up again. When he felt no kicks, he smiled softly, pressing another kiss to her shoulder.

"She'll kick as soon as I am about to fall asleep," Meerab pouted.

He laughed, "No, she'll be good," he assured her, taking her hand and guiding her out of the bathroom into the closet. The warm light illuminated the space, casting a soft glow around them. He watched her as she walked ahead, the gentle sway of her hips making him smile.

He expected her to walk towards her side and pick out something to wear, but she walked over to his section, picking out his brown kurta and sliding it on. The sight of her in his clothes always sent a thrill through him.

"I feel like you wear that more than I do now," he teased, grabbing a pair of pajamas and sliding them on.

"It's comfortable," she replied, smoothing the fabric over her belly.

"It looks better on you," he grinned, admiring how the kurta draped over her curves, highlighting her baby bump.

She rolled her eyes playfully. "No, you look really good in this one."

He shrugged with a smirk. "I look good in everything... and nothing at all."

She rolled her eyes again but held her hand out to him as they padded back into the room.

He took the top sheet off their bed and threw it somewhere before turning over the clean quilt and sheets. He helped her slide into bed, then slid in behind her, pressing a kiss to her cheek as he cuddled her.

"Good night, meri jaan," he whispered, his voice tender.

"Good night, shaitaan," she whispered back, her eyes already drooping with sleep.

"Goodnight, meri choti shehzadi," he added, his hand resting on her stomach.

Meerab groaned softly as their baby kicked, and he laughed, feeling a deep contentment wash over him.

His fingers gently traced patterns on her belly, feeling the subtle movements of their child as he listened to Meerab's breathing even out, she fell asleep rather quickly these days, as long as their choti shehzadi kept the kicks light.

Meerab shifted slightly, nestling closer to him, and he tightened his hold on her. He kissed her cheek again, savoring the warmth and softness of her skin. He whispered, "I love you," even though he knew she was already asleep.

Murtasim shifted his attention to the gentle movements beneath his palm. He began speaking softly to their unborn daughter, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Meri choti shehzadi," he murmured, his thumb lightly stroking Meerab's belly, feeling the gentle movement. "I hope you're comfortable in there. You're keeping your ammi on her toes, aren't you? But do me a favor - try not to kick her bladder so much. It makes her uncomfortable. If you need to practice your kicks, aim for the other side, I bought you a football the other day, save your kicks for that."

He chuckled softly, imagining their baby obliging to his request. "You know, it's not easy for her carrying you around all the time. So, maybe you can be a bit more predictable with your movements? That way, she won't be caught off guard."

He pressed a gentle kiss to Meerab's shoulder before continuing, "I hope you're growing well in there. Make sure you're developing the right number of fingers and toes. I can't wait to count them all when you're finally here."

His eyes softened as he imagined holding their baby for the first time. "You know, your ammi and I talk about you all the time. We wonder what you'll look like, whose eyes you'll have, whose smile. I just know you're going to be perfect. And I can't wait to hold you, to see you, to love you with everything I have."

His hand continued its soothing motions on Meerab's stomach, feeling the tiny responses from their baby. "Good night, meri choti shehzadi. Sweet dreams."

With that, he settled back down, his hand still resting protectively on Meerab's belly, and let the peacefulness of the night envelop them. He felt the day's events slowly fade away as he drifted closer to sleep, the soft rhythm of Meerab's breathing lulling him into a sense of calm.

But just as he was on the edge of slumber, he felt Meerab's hand on his shoulder, shaking him frantically. Her urgent whisper cut through the haze of sleep.

"Murtasim, wake up!"

He jolted awake, his heart racing as he tried to process the sudden urgency in her voice. "Meerab, what is it?" he asked, his voice thick with concern as he sat up and turned towards her, the darkness of the room pressing in around them.

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Author's Note: Tadaaaaaa! So, what do you think?! What was your favourite part? I promise this is the last mostly smut chapter, we'll switch gears soon as we approach the last trimester and Meesam's birth! I thought they deserved some fun before they can no longer have it!