Chapter 22
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Yamini lay awake long after the palace fell silent.
Somewhere deep in the palace, a clock began to chime.
One. Two. Three.
She counted without meaning to, each strike slow and deliberate in the quiet.
Twelve.
Midnight.
The silk nightclothes she'd borrowed from the closet were soft, the bed wide and perfect. But sleep refused to come. She turned from one side to the other, staring at the ceiling, then the windows, then the faint outline of the mountains beyond the glass.
Married.
Her mind kept circling the same thoughts. The contract. The locked door. The separate bedrooms.
She closed her eyes. You proposed, she reminded herself. You signed the damn contract.
It didn't help.
She exhaled slowly. The meeting must be over by now.
A man like him wouldn’t allow anything to run over the prescribed time.
He must be in his bedroom on the other side of that locked door, going through whatever bedtime routine a man like him followed.
He probably had more skincare and haircare products than she did just to maintain his glowing skin and perfect hair.
Ugh.
She turned onto her side, away from the connecting door.
Just sleep.
But she couldn’t. She tossed and turned a few more times.
Until she heard a soft click.
She sat up and frowned.
What was that?
She realized it was probably the palace walls. The centuries-old stone made a noise from the cold mountain air.
But just as she was about to lie back on the bed, a thin line of light appeared under the connecting door. And then, the door opened wider, and a tall silhouette filled the frame.
For a moment, she couldn't move. Her brain refused to process what she was seeing.
She had been so certain. So completely, absolutely certain that he wouldn't come. That the door between them would remain locked until the end of their contract marriage.
But he came.
He wore a black robe, loosely tied, his shoulders filling the doorway. She couldn’t see his face clearly, but she sensed his gaze on her across the room.
He stepped inside.
Her heart thudded with each step he took. It was pounding when he stopped next to the bed.
There was a brief click, and the bedside lamp turned on, casting the room in soft, warm lighting.
Her heart raced. He was close enough for her to see the faint shadow of stubble along his jaw and the steady rise and fall of his chest.
The warm light flickered across his face, highlighting the sharp cheekbones and nose that made him look less like a human and more like something carved from marble—beautiful, unyielding, and cold.
His eyes didn’t meet hers.
His golden-brown eyes moved slowly over her body. She suddenly became aware of the thin nightgown against her skin, the sheets tangled around her legs, the warmth rising in her stomach under his gaze.
Her fingers curled into the sheets as her skin began to burn.
She wanted to speak, but her throat didn’t seem to work.
A part of her felt it was a dream. That her disturbed mind imagined that the cold maharaja who hated her was inside her room.
But then, she felt his touch.
His long fingers brushed the straps off her shoulders in one smooth motion.
A gasp escaped her as the soft silk of her nightdress slithered down her torso, pooling at her waist, baring her entire upper body.
Her face burned in embarrassment. But his handsome face remained unreadable as he looked at her.
Before she could cover herself or say something, she felt a firm push on her shoulders, and her head hit the pillow with a gasp.
He leaned towards her, his citrus cologne with a hint of pine musk and something strangely metallic filling her senses. And then his mouth closed over her breast.
There was no hesitation or awkwardness in his movements. A shocked cry escaped her, and her back arched as she gripped the black silk of his robe at the shoulders while he sucked hard.
He wasn’t gentle. But she heard herself moan and felt a rush of slick heat between her thighs with each relentless tug.
Her fingers dug into his shoulders, and the unyielding muscle felt real. Too real.
His mouth switched to her other breast, sucking hard with a graze of his teeth. Before she could pinch herself to snap out of her dream, his mouth moved lower.
A moan escaped her as his tongue dipped into the hollow of her navel. The sensation was electric, and she felt goosebumps peppering her skin. His hands gripped the material at her hips and yanked until she felt the cool air on her bare skin.
He placed her thighs on his shoulders, and then his mouth was on her.
Oh God!
He didn’t tease or start slow. Her head thrashed against the pillows, her fingers gripping his hair as his hot tongue moved with rough, rhythmic strokes that left her entire body shaking.
Her fingers yanked his hair hard, not knowing whether to push him away or pull him closer.
And then she felt it. Something she had never felt before during intimacy.
It was building rapidly. She tried desperately to control it.
But it ripped through her, and she screamed in shock as her body bowed against the sheets.
Even as shudders wracked her body, she felt him shifting.
She slowly opened her eyes to see him moving over her.
Her stomach quivered hard as she saw him shrug off the black robe. His broad shoulders and muscular torso appeared golden with the lighting.
But as soon as her eyes lowered, she gasped.
“Oh God,” she blurted before she could stop herself.
There was no way a man could be built like a mythical statue down there.
When his large hands gripped her thighs, panic hit her. Her eyes fell on the long fingers with the heavy gold signet ring that contrasted sharply against her dusky skin. The details on the ring felt too clear to be imagined.
Her eyes flew up and met his, and the expression in them stole her breath.
His eyes were darker with black pupils dominating the golden brown.
“Hold me,” he commanded.
The low, rough command jolted through her, and she gripped his muscled shoulders. His golden skin was warm and smooth to touch.
Then he moved.
The first thrust stole her breath, and she cried out, digging her fingers deeper into his shoulders.
Despite her earlier climax, it felt too much. He was too big, and the stretch bordered on pain.
“Too much—” she gasped, the words fracturing as his hips moved again, seating himself deeper than she thought was possible.
Her body tensed, resisting the invasion, but his grip on her thighs held firm.
Just when she thought he was deliberately being cruel, she felt the rough pads of his thumbs stroking softly under her knees.
The contradiction felt shocking. The brutal stretch of him nearly splitting her open while his fingertips gently stroked her to soothe.
He continued to move in precise movements, each thrust making her gasp.
Her nails dug into his shoulders. “Slow down. You’re too—”
Her words turned into a shattered cry as something inside her snapped, and suddenly she was coming with a violence that ripped through her like a lightning strike.
Her scream was raw as her back arched off the bed sharply. Stars exploded behind her eyelids as pleasure detonated along every nerve.
He didn’t stop. Or slow. He continued to move with hard thrusts while his thumbs stroked softly under her knees.
Her body trembled under his, caught between pleasure and the raw edge of pain.
She opened her eyes to see him watching her with intense concentration on his handsome face. Beads of sweat covered his forehead while he continued to move.
“Again,” he commanded.
Before her mind could protest, her body obeyed, and another climax ripped through her body with a force, making her scream.
She clawed at his shoulders and arms as the pleasure crested higher and sharper until sensation blurred into agony, her muscles clamping around him in frantic pulses while her hips jerked uncontrollably beneath him.
His rhythm didn’t falter. His hips drove into her in a ruthlessly precise rhythm while his fingers stroked her gently under her knees.
His face remained unreadable as he watched her with darkened eyes.
Just when she thought her body couldn’t take the overstimulation anymore, his thrusts lost their precise movements, and the veins in his neck stood out like cords as he hovered on the brink.
She watched, dazed, as sweat dripped from his forehead onto her neck. He was holding back, muscles trembling with the effort, his hardness pulsing inside her where their bodies were joined.
Then he withdrew from her.
She gasped at the sudden emptiness. Her stomach clenched, her breath catching as she watched him with his head thrown back in ecstasy while he gripped himself.
With a low growl that reverberated through her body, he came. Hot streaks of white splashed across her dusky stomach, marking her.
His breath came in ragged bursts, his grip white-knuckled on the headboard as he hovered over her, looking at her quivering stomach where he had released his seed.
For a moment, he remained still, and then he reached for the bedside table.
The crinkle of paper broke through the charged silence. She watched in a daze as he pressed clean white tissues against her quivering stomach.
Her skin prickled as his long fingers swiped away the evidence of his release from her dusky skin. His movements were deliberate and thorough, as though even this task needed to be done precisely.
Then, without looking at her, he threw the soiled tissues in a discreetly placed can next to the bed.
The tendons in his forearm flexed as he got out of bed and straightened, his profile carved from marble in the warm light. A drop of sweat slid down his broad, muscled chest, indicating he wasn’t a statue.
Her eyes lowered, and she nearly gasped seeing he was still hard.
Oh God.
Her thighs were still trembling, the echo of his mouth and then the brutal stretch pulsing between her legs like a second heartbeat. She didn’t think her body could take one more round.
But he didn’t look towards her. He put on his black robe with a smooth motion before tying it tightly. And then, he turned to walk towards his bedroom.
He paused near the door and looked over his shoulder. “Breakfast is at nine sharp,” he said.
His voice was calm, as if he had concluded a board meeting rather than consummating their marriage.
She watched as he stepped into his room.
The connecting door closed with a soft click, leaving her alone in complete silence.
She stared at the door for a long moment, her heart still racing and her skin damp with sweat.
What the hell happened?
Her wedding night hadn’t gone anything like she had expected. Not even close.
Bharat Jogra had made her gasp, moan, and scream loudly, making her climax thrice.
Oh God.
She pressed her damp palms to her flaming face. She rolled onto her side and looked outside the windows at the moonlit snow-capped mountains. The scent of musk, sweat, and his citrusy pine cologne clung to her skin, but she was too exhausted to shower.
Even as her body continued to hum, her mind spun with thoughts.
Why did he pull out if he wanted heirs?
Was it deliberate? Was it some kind of mind game?
She wasn’t sure, as nothing she predicted about him ever came true.
Even as she tried to think of a reason, exhaustion caught up with her. Her eyes began to droop.
Just as her eyes closed, a thought surfaced through her exhausted mind.
His mouth had been everywhere, on her breasts, her stomach, and also between her legs. But his mouth hadn’t touched her lips.
Bharat Singh Jogra didn’t kiss her.
Cold bastard.