Chapter 41 #5
When the skirt finally slipped away, leaving me lighter in my petticoat, I heard the faint sound of it pooling onto the floor. He gently nudged it aside before moving back toward me.
“Hey,” he murmured, lifting my face so our eyes met.
My lips trembled with the unease blooming inside me. I was nervous, uncertain, and afraid of being seen too closely.
What if he doesn’t like me?
His thumb brushed over my lower lip.
“Are you okay?” he whispered, and I nodded, barely.
One by one, he removed my jewellery. Starting with my nose ring, then earrings, and finally the maangteeka. With every piece set aside, the moment felt heavier, closer.
He leaned in, pressing his lips to the hollow at the base of my neck.
“Accept me as yours, love… please,” he murmured.
My eyes closed, and instinctively, I wrapped my arms around his neck, drawing him nearer.
“I love you so much, Suman,” he whispered.
As his hands slid to my shoulders, easing the blouse away, heat rushed through me. His gaze was fixed on my chest, giving all his attention.
I tried to shield myself with my hands, embarrassed by my drooping breasts, but he caught my wrists gently and pinned them over my head.
A soft sound escaped me as the movement drew a subtle rise in my chest, and my breathing faltered.
I looked down breathlessly, watching him trace slow circles around my left nipple, where Princess Rudraja had bitten me.
It started painfully slow, but with each passing moment, the pressure of his fingertip increased against my skin, causing my heart to thud loudly.
The lingering sensation made my pulse race.
“I need you closer,” I whispered before I could stop myself.
He leaned in, closing the space between us, and pressed his lips over my bud.
Butterflies erupted violently in my stomach, and I drew my knees up anxiously, squeezing my eyes shut.
It felt… good. Terrifyingly good.
His mouth was warm, and when I opened my eyes, I found him staring straight at me.
My lips parted on instinct, and my breath shuddered out of me as he released my wrist and gathered my breast in his palm. He lifted it, drawing my nipple into his mouth, showing me, shamelessly, how he was sucking it.
“You’re a baby,” I teased breathlessly.
Suddenly, he dug his teeth into my skin and nipped at it softly, drawing a cry from me before I could stop it.
He smirked, clearly pleased by my reaction.
I cupped his cheek with my free hand, still dazed, but his expression darkened. In one swift motion, he pinned that hand above my head as well, trapping both wrists, abandoning my breast.
“I hate the smell of henna,” he said quietly.
I swallowed. I knew I was in no position to argue. His mouth returned to my nipple, taking it entirely, mercilessly, while his hand squeezed my other breast, pinching the sensitive bud between his fingers. The sensation forced my thighs to press together as I felt heat pooling down there.
I could only stare at him and at the way he sucked on my brown bud, like he needed it to breathe. He tugged, stretched, and then released it with a sharp, wet pop.
A helpless sound came out with the sweet sting lingering.
He smiled, licking slowly across my skin, dragging his tongue from the curve of my breast to the inked eagle between them. My head tipped back as his mouth followed up my chest, along my throat, to my jaw. The cool air against my damp skin made me shiver.
He pressed his chest against mine, and I could feel the warmth seeping even through the thin cotton between us. Letting go of my wrists, he moved up, cupping my face and lifting it until I had no choice but to meet his gaze.
My cheeks burned.
I bit my lower lip as he murmured, “You look even more beautiful when you’re timid.”
My eyes flickered between his eyes and his lips.
I pressed my lips together, trying to steady their faint quiver as he leaned closer and gently captured them with his own.
My lashes fluttered shut, and I instinctively drew my thighs together as he parted his lips, leaving a trail of lingering kisses from my chin to my cheeks.
Heat bloomed where he touched me. My lips swelled under the warmth and possessiveness of his affection.
My breath hitched. I shifted beneath him, instinctively trying to escape the growing pressure, but he only cupped my neck, holding me there, deepening the kiss.
My hands slid up to his shoulders as he shifted his leg between mine. His free hand slipped down, tugging my in-skirt just enough to hook my leg around his waist.
“Urghh,” he groaned, thrusting his middle body against mine.
My lashes fluttered at the sensation. Temptation coursed through me as I inhaled sharply. I felt his hardness, and it sent a shiver straight through my spine.
I was caged beneath him.
My toes pressed into the mattress as I drew my lower abdomen in, instinctively searching for space to adjust, to breathe, but he only pressed closer.
His lips found my neck, scattering reverent kisses along my skin as he murmured soft words into my ear.
The first few dry humps startled me; my body stiffened at the unfamiliar intensity, but soon my hips answered him on their own.
I closed my eyes and gave in.
I could feel the slickness between my legs. My fingers curled into his hair, and I brushed my lips against his cheek. He answered by kissing my neck again deeply.
Gradually, he slowed down and lifted his mouth to mine, kissing me once more before shifting back onto his knees. The sudden distance made me gasp. I arched slightly, clutching the sheet beneath me restlessly, aching for more of him.
Then I realised what he was doing.
My heart pounded as his fingers searched for the strings of my in-skirt.
He leaned down, pressing soft kisses over my trembling belly as he tugged gently at the knot. My legs stretched instinctively.
I didn’t know what was happening to my body.
I wasn’t shy, but only until the moment he slid the fabric down my thighs.
I lifted my hips slightly to help him, keeping my thighs pressed tightly together. He was still dressed in white, while I lay bare beneath him, adorned only with the jewellery clinging to my ankles, wrists, and waist.
I turned onto my side, overwhelmed by my own nakedness. His face had flushed, eyes dark and intense, and when he sucked in his lip slowly, I knew there was no turning back.
Not that I wanted to.
I tried to draw my knees toward my chest, but he stopped me with one firm hand on my thigh.
The touch wasn’t warm.
It was hot.
My breath faltered as he leaned closer, placing his lips along the curve of my side, brushing his fingers slowly over my thigh. I shut my eyes and pressed my face into the mattress as he traced a trail of kisses downward from the joint of my thigh to my ankle.
He gently grasped my calves, then turned me onto my back.
I instinctively brought my bangle-filled hand to my core, ashamed, but he caught my wrist gently and moved it aside. His fingers brushed along my inner thighs instead.
I felt like a butterfly folding into its cocoon.
“I have seen you before, love,” he murmured, tracing languid lines over my thighs. “You are beautiful.”
I bit the inside of my lip as he settled between my legs, nudging my knees closer to my chest until my henna- and mahavar-inked feet rested against his chest. The intimacy of it made my breath hitch.
He leaned down and kissed my ankles, one by one. My toes curled reflexively.
The placement made me unbearably shy.
He closed his eyes, and I quickly pulled my feet back, stretching my legs long instead and hooking them around the curve of his waist. A faint smile tugged at his lips as he placed his hands on my midriff.
“You look so beautiful in all this gold,” he whispered, caressing my belly with feather-light strokes.
I swallowed hard as he gripped my waist and drew me closer. The intimacy felt raw… explicit.
“Are you ready, love?” he asked softly, massaging my breast.
I clenched the sheets on either side of me and nodded.
He slowly pulled his kurta over his head.
My gaze locked onto his bare, muscular torso. It looked dangerously alluring. His biceps flexed as he lifted his arms, and my breath caught in my throat. I trembled under his gaze, and he noticed.
That faint, knowing smirk appeared.
He extended his hands toward me, and I placed mine in his. The sound of my bangles clinked loudly, slicing through the thick silence in the chamber. He opened my clenched fists and guided my hands to his midriff.
As my fingertips met the warmth of his skin, I was at ease. My breathing steadied. I stared at our henna-stained hands intertwined against his body, reminding myself that he was my husband. That pleasing him was as much my right as it was his.
I lifted myself slightly, withdrawing my hands to support my weight. His brows knitted in confusion, then softened into a smile when I wrapped an arm around his neck and pulled him down.
My hands shook from nervousness.
I drew him close, cupping his cheek and neck carefully, and pressed my lips to his forehead.
“I love you too, Kunwar-sa,” I whispered.
He inhaled deeply and captured my lips. “Say that again,” he murmured against my mouth.
He shifted, grasped my leg, and parted my thighs before kissing me again.
“Hum bhi aapse bahut prem karte hain,” “I too love you a lot.” I whispered on his lips.
My toes curled into the bedsheet as I felt his hardness press against me. He kissed me once more, then rested his forehead against mine.
“Do you want to do it?” he husked out.
My eyes rolled back as his hand slipped between us.
“Ye… yes,” I breathed.
His fingers found my most sensitive place.
“Are you sure, love?” he asked, breathing heavily.
I tightened my grip around his neck and nodded.
He moved his fingers in gentle strokes. I couldn’t fully understand, but I was certain he was taking his time, playing with my wet folds, up and down. Sensation bloomed, spreading heat through my core.
A deep, needy ache pulsed inside me.