Chapter Four: A New Obsession

Ayan’s apartment in Dubai was a sleek, modern space that overlooked the shimmering skyline. The floor-to-ceiling windows offered a breathtaking view of the city, its lights twinkling like stars against the dark night sky. Ayan dropped his keys on the marble countertop, his thoughts still lingering on Saba and the tantalizing conversation they had shared at the airport.

He had tried to distract himself on the drive back, focusing on the familiar roads, the sound of the engine, anything to keep his mind off the allure of her words and the seductive sway of her hips. But now, in the solitude of his apartment, the memory of her smile, her voice, and the scent of her perfume seemed to wrap around him, refusing to let go.

Ayan sank into the leather couch, pulling out his smartphone. The screen glowed to life, and he hesitated for a moment before opening the browser. He typed Saba’s name into Google, curiosity getting the better of him. He wanted to know more about the enigmatic woman who had captivated his thoughts, who had turned his world upside down in just a few short hours.

As the search results loaded, Ayan felt a flicker of anticipation. There were countless links—articles, interviews, photographs. Saba was clearly someone of importance, someone used to the limelight. He clicked on the image tab, and his breath caught in his throat.

There she was, in dozens of photos, each one more striking than the last. Saba at charity events, her smile dazzling as she posed for the cameras. Saba at fashion shows, her long legs accentuated by designer gowns that hugged her curves in all the right places. Saba at art galleries, her expression thoughtful as she studied the paintings on the walls.

But it was the candid shots, the ones that seemed to capture her when she thought no one was looking, that held Ayan’s attention. In one, she was laughing, her head thrown back, the light catching the gold in her eyes. In another, she was staring directly at the camera, her lips slightly parted, a look of raw desire in her eyes that made Ayan’s pulse race.

He clicked on an image that showed Saba in a black silk dress, the fabric clinging to her body like a second skin. Her hair cascaded over her shoulders, and her eyes, dark and smoldering, seemed to look right through him. Ayan felt a tightening in his chest, a heat spreading through his body. He couldn’t tear his gaze away from her, from the way she seemed to radiate confidence and sensuality.

Ayan scrolled down, reading the brief snippets of information under each photo. His eyes caught on a headline: “Saba Ali Khan Divorces Renowned Painter Tahir Khan After Six Years of Marriage.” He paused, his mind processing the words. Saba had been married? He clicked on the link, the article opening up in front of him.

The text detailed her marriage to Tahir Khan, a celebrated painter known for his abstract works and tumultuous personal life. It spoke of their whirlwind romance, their high-profile wedding, and the art world’s fascination with them as a couple. But it was the mention of their divorce, barely a year ago, that intrigued Ayan the most.

“Sources close to the couple say the split was amicable, though rumors persist of infidelity and jealousy,” the article read. “Saba, known for her beauty and sharp business acumen, has remained tight-lipped about the reasons behind the separation, focusing instead on her career and philanthropic efforts.”

Ayan leaned back, his mind racing. Saba was a woman of secrets, a woman who had lived a life as complex and colorful as the paintings her ex-husband was famous for. He wondered what had driven her to end her marriage, what desires and passions lay beneath the polished surface she presented to the world.

As he continued to browse through the images, he came across one that stopped him cold. It was a black-and-white photograph, Saba lying on a bed of silk sheets, her body draped in nothing but shadows. Her eyes were half-closed, her lips parted, and there was a look of raw, unfiltered desire on her face that made Ayan’s blood boil. He could almost feel the softness of her skin, the heat of her body against his.

Ayan’s hand tightened around his phone, his breath coming faster. He felt a surge of arousal, a need that was sudden and overwhelming. He couldn’t stop thinking about the way she had looked at him, the way her voice had wrapped around him like a silken thread. His eyes drifted to the image again, and he felt a deep, aching desire, a hunger that was impossible to ignore.

He set his phone down on the couch, his hands moving to unbutton his shirt, the fabric slipping from his shoulders to pool on the floor. His skin felt hot, his heart pounding as he closed his eyes, letting the image of Saba fill his mind. He imagined her there with him, her fingers tracing patterns on his skin, her lips pressing against his neck.

Ayan’s hand slid down his stomach, his touch light and teasing, as he pictured the way Saba’s body would feel beneath his, the way her breath would hitch as he kissed her. He could almost hear her moan, a soft, needy sound that made his arousal spike.

He groaned softly, his hand wrapping around himself, his movements slow and deliberate. His mind was filled with thoughts of Saba—her voice, her touch, the way she had looked at him as if she could see right into his soul. He imagined her hands on him, her body pressing against his, and he felt a shudder run through him.

Ayan’s breathing quickened, his body moving in time with the rhythm of his thoughts, his hand stroking faster. He could almost feel Saba’s breath on his skin, her lips trailing down his chest, her fingers digging into his shoulders as he pulled her closer. The fantasy was so vivid, so real, that he could taste the salt of her skin, feel the heat of her desire.

He let out a low moan, his head falling back against the couch, his eyes squeezing shut. The sensation built, a wave of pleasure that threatened to overwhelm him. He imagined Saba’s voice, whispering in his ear, urging him on, her touch a fire that burned him from the inside out.

With a final, shuddering gasp, Ayan found his release, his body tensing, his mind filled with the image of Saba’s smiling, knowing eyes. Without wasting any time, he pointed his throbbing penis to his phone, where he had the image of Saba's face zoomed in. He directed the hot cum dripping from the tip of his cock into the phone, ensuring that it fell right atop Saba's lips on the image. As he watched his hot release engulfing Saba's beautiful image, he thought of how hot it would be to give Saba a facial on their first sexual encounter. The very thought made him feel like jerking off to her pic again. The pleasure was intense, a rush of heat and satisfaction that left him breathless, his body sagging against the cushions as the tension drained away.

Ayan lay there, his chest rising and falling, his mind a haze of satisfaction and lingering desire. He knew that what he felt for Saba was more than just attraction. It was a burning need, a craving that wouldn’t be satisfied with just one encounter. He wanted to know her, to uncover the secrets she kept hidden, to make that divorced slut his in every way.

As he stared up at the ceiling, a slow smile spread across his face. Ayan was sure he would see her again, and when he did, he would show her that he was more than just a passing interest. He would be the man who made her forget everything else, who made her want him as much as he wanted her. He would show her realms of sex and pleasure that she never knew existed. He would make her moan so hard that an entire street would compliment his sexual prowess mentally. And in the darkness of his apartment, Ayan felt a thrill of anticipation, a hunger for the woman who had captured his thoughts and ignited a fire within him that refused to be extinguished. With an urge to revisit the burning desire within him, he wiped his phone clean and went inside the bathroom to jerk off on Saba's pics one more time before the night.