Izzat An-Nisa (Pakistani Short Stories)

Hadsaa Part 3 🌸

Dawud sauntered into the kitchen, the daylight streaming in and hitting the marble countertops in its decadence. It was his day off and he had slept in, letting his tired muscles relax. The past few weeks had been very stressful after he had closed yet another case. And during this time, he'd only found solace in his wife.

Almas looked as pretty as a picture, her floral anarkali bringing out the rosiness of her smooth cheeks, her eyes narrowed ever so slightly as she kneaded the dough. The light seemed to shine on her, making her raven hair appear brown, pilled into a lazy bun as strands kissed the side of her face, and illuminating her collarbones, the soft skin complimented by the gold lace of her neckline, dipping from her activities and revealing her cleavage.

She packaged the dough into plastic, unaware of his presence as he leaned against the door, watching her with a swirl of emotions in his eyes. His wife of 5 months. A woman he'd known for only a little bit of time yet he had already become obsessed with her taste, her touch. The way she shyly turned her face when he'd kiss her.

Almas moved to the sink to wash her hands, turning her back to him and his gaze fell onto the exposed skin, the dress held together by a golden dori that he wanted to pull open.

When she turned to clean the counter top, their eyes met and she gave him this tentative smile. Dawud moved closer, taking a slice of the banana bread she had already made, biting into it as she swiped the counter.

"You're going to give me diabetes." He grumbled, dusting his hands as he finished off the delicacy.

Almas looked startled at the accusation, grabbing her dupatta and slinging it around her neck. "Would you prefer I cut down on the baking? I'd be OK with that. I don't-!"

Dawud stepped closer, a smirk playing on his lips as he grazed his jaw with a free hand. "Hmm, that wouldn't be entirely helpful." He was openly teasing her, but she only took a step back, clearing her throat.

"I'm sorry. I'll stop it entirely. I didn't know-!"

He stepped closer, caging her against the wall as she gasped. "You could stop baking, Almas, but how would you save me from the sweetness of your lips?"

Her eyes seemed to catch on finally, fluttering closed as he pressed a feather light kiss to her mouth, her body nearly burning from his touch, a pleasant feeling arising in him as he peppered kisses all the way down her jaw and neck.

He lowered himself, maintaining eye contact as his lips touched the center of her breasts, right above the lace trim, before he pushed himself into her, forcing her face upwards and kissing her properly, swallowing the sound of alarm.

Almas' hands did that thing he loved; rested against his chest, sliding up to his shoulders as if staking her claim. "Oh, Almas." He rasped. "Why can't I get enough of you?"

Without waiting for her response, he rejoined their lips, drawing soft gasps from her as his tongue played with hers, exploring the insides of her mouth, kissing her so gently, so softly. Since their confrontation in his study a few months prior, intimacy had become regular. He'd often make time for her, taking her into his arms as he worked, which ended up in a kissing session he was reluctant to pull away from. Most nights she'd go to sleep naked after he'd procured such noises that they'd even shocked him into decency, quieting her mouth with his kisses.

Dawud was happy with the way their life was. He liked the intimacy. He liked being able to touch this woman who intrigued him so fully, yet he didn't know how to make her less shy. Even after he'd be inside of her, kissing her skin so that nothing was left uncovered from his mark, she'd shy away from him. In the throes of passion, his meek wife was completely different, moaning his name, screaming in pleasure.