CHAPTER 33
Yamini’s pulse was loud in her ears.
She had come here prepared to challenge him. To provoke him. To force something. A reaction, a crack, maybe even a confession.
But beneath his intense golden-brown gaze, her stomach trembled. Not just because of his height or the breadth of his shoulders, but because of the control he wore like a second skin.
As soon as she said she wasn’t leaving, silence followed.
It stretched thick and electric.
Bharat Jogra remained still. He did not even blink.
The stillness unsettled her more than anger would have.
Her determination rose.
She sat up fully now, silk pooling around her thighs, hair falling over her shoulder. She refused to shrink beneath his stare.
“I’ve read the contract, maharaja,” she said with deliberate provocation. “It states that you decide when I can conceive. But there isn’t anything written about who drives our physical intimacy and where. Tonight, I am in control. And I choose your bed.”
He didn’t say anything. His handsome face remained unmoved.
A spark of annoyance, along with her anger, grew at his silence.
“Take off your clothes and lie down on the bed,” she commanded.
Bharat didn’t move. His towering frame cast a shadow over her, but something flickered in his golden-brown eyes at her order.
She knew she was supposed to seduce and entice, not order him or piss him off. But the cold distance he maintained from her the previous night, along with the mixed signaling of his actions during the day, made her snap.
She braced herself for a fight. She was itching for it.
She was prepared to stay put even if he ordered her to get out of his bed and his room.
But he didn’t argue. Or order her to get out.
His hands reached for his shirt, and he began unbuttoning it.
Her breath caught in her throat.
Inch by inch, his golden-tanned skin came into view as he unbuttoned his shirt, and then shrugged out of it, revealing his bare, muscled upper body.
Her breath hitched when his hands reached for his belt.
His movements were smooth and efficient.
But her heart thudded loudly when he stepped out of his pants and stood completely naked.
He looked like a mythical god.
She once again recalled how he rode the stallion with effortless command and threw the spear right on target. Her cheeks heated, and her body burned.
She hated that he could control her body without even touching her. Her anger grew.
“Lie down on the bed,” she repeated the command.
He moved. His muscles shifted as he walked towards the other side of the bed and then lay on his back. His eyes were on her. Waiting.
Before she lost her nerve, she closed the distance between them.
She recalled all the times he had driven their intimacy. How he was always in complete control, while she lost hers. She was determined to take control and leave him as shattered as he left her each night.
“Tonight, I’m in charge,” she said as she straddled him, her thighs bracketing his hips, her wet heat hovering just above his hard arousal. She pulled up her satin nightwear in one move, until all she was wearing was just the emerald fish pendant.
He watched her with golden-brown eyes while remaining still under her.
With an angry inhale, she gripped his shoulders for balance and sank down onto him in a single thrust. The burn was immediate, a white-hot stretch that tore a gasp from her throat.
His hands moved to her hips, fingers digging deep as his entire body locked beneath her.
He was too big, even though she was prepared. She ignored the pain.
“I’m your wife,” she hissed, rolling her hips in a slow, deliberate circle that made his jaw tighten.
“You don’t get to order me around like I’m your hired lackey.
” She rocked forward, her nails scoring his chest as she dragged herself up his length almost to the tip, and then slammed back down, the impact reverberating through both of them.
The pain-pleasure of it punched a ragged cry from her throat, but she refused to look away from his golden-brown eyes, now dark with something primal.
As she continued to move, she could feel him deep inside her, feel the way his hips jerked upward involuntarily as if trying to bury himself deeper.
She felt a thrill that there was a fracture in his control.
“You know what your problem is?” she asked, continuing to move. “You are a cold bastard.”
The air between them crackled, thick with sweat and something she couldn’t name. She could feel his heartbeat under her palms, wild and untamed. But his expression remained neutral.
“What else?” he asked, his hands moving upwards from her hips.
His hands traced the soft swell of her belly, fingers splayed wide as if committing every curve to memory.
Her breath caught, not just from pleasure, but from the sheer audacity of him answering her insult with a question. His tone was casual, as though they were seated across the breakfast table, instead of her straddling him in the middle of the night with him buried inside her.
She bared her teeth. “You are also an arrogant, controlling—”
She gasped when his large, slightly-roughened palms cupped her breasts. And then, his calloused thumbs circled her nipples with deliberate slowness.
“What else?” he asked.
Her chest heaved as she tried to control her body’s reaction. But she could feel him everywhere.
The weight of his golden-brown gaze, the slick heat where their bodies joined, the maddening brush of his thumbs.
“You are also a liar,” she gritted. “Pretending you care by giving me the ceremonial sword in front of—”
She broke off when his one hand moved up and slid around her throat. He didn’t squeeze, just held while the pad of his thumb pressed against her frantic pulse.
Her pulse thundered in her ears as her eyes met his darkened gaze.
“I don’t lie,” he said, his voice low and rough, unlike his usual steady tone. And then, his hips jerked up.
She cried out as pleasure peaked and climax hit her hard.
Her entire body convulsed with her inner walls clamping down on his hardness.
His fingers bit into her waist, and his chest rose and fell as his breath turned harsher.
Even as her vision blurred at the edges with ecstasy, she pressed down on him harder, using all of her weight. She knew he might make her take more pills the next morning, but she was determined to see his loss of control once again.
He let out a low growl that vibrated through her.
And then, she was airborne. She was shocked to find herself on her stomach.
Cold air fell on her exposed back. Before she could scramble up, the scorching heat of his body pressed against her from the back.
His hand gripped her hips, positioned her against his still hard arousal, and then thrust into her again.
She cried out. The angle was deeper, and she could feel him everywhere while he moved with a hard, merciless rhythm.
Her fingers dug into the pillow.
“Don’t try that again,” he said, his hot breath falling against her ear from behind.
He knew.
He knew she had just tried to deliberately trap him into spilling inside her again.
“I’m your wife,” she gasped out defiantly. “I can do what I—”
His teeth sank into her shoulder.
She screamed in shock as pain and pleasure tore through her body in an orgasm. Her thighs shook, and her hips bucked against him, pulling him deeper.
He groaned against her shoulder, but didn’t stop or slow.
Before she could catch her breath, he flipped her onto her back with a growl, his hands pinning her wrists above her head. A gasp escaped her when he thrust into her again.
His free hand moved up her body until his fingers wrapped around her throat. He stared down at her as though he needed to see her face.
Even through her exhaustion, she glared up at him.
“Again,” he commanded, his thumb pressing into her throat.
“You controlling jerk—I’m not listening to your—ah!” Her curse shattered into a cry as his thumb pressed harder, while his hips pistoned into her with relentless force.
The third climax slammed into her like an explosion, ripping through her body with such intensity that her vision whited out completely.
Her scream tore through the bedroom again, this time in half fury and half pleasure as her body convulsed beneath him.
He groaned against her skin, his rhythm faltering.
Then, with a sharp inhale, he withdrew.
The sudden emptiness made her gasp, her hips jerking upwards instinctively to chase him. But his fingers dug into her hips, pinning her in place as he emptied once again on her stomach.
She lay quivering, watching his handsome face contorting in pleasure while he once again denied her what she wanted.
Even as her body trembled in pleasure, anger grew.
His eyes opened, and when he looked back at her, they were once again calm and in control.
He moved slightly, reached for the tissues on his nightstand, and began wiping her stomach clean with smooth, efficient strokes.
“Get off me,” she gritted.
His hand paused, and then he slowly moved away from her. He got up from the bed and dropped the tissues into the bin under the nightstand. And then, he stood next to the bed, watching her.
Her chest heaved as she tried to catch her breath.
“You are a liar,” she said in fury. “I know you didn’t marry me for an heir. You married me for revenge.”
He froze then.
Her voice trembled with anger as she spoke. “You think I don’t see it? The morning-after pill. The rules. The distance. Why you never finish inside me. You married me to punish me for humiliating you five years ago.”
He didn’t say anything.
That made it worse.
“You hate me,” she finished, her chest rising and falling. “Admit it.”
The word hate hung between them.
He studied her for a long second.
“You call his hate?” he asked, his eyes sweeping over her.
There was still heat in his eyes. And her heart jerked in shock seeing that he was fully aroused again.
Her stomach quivered, and her nipples hardened in response.
Angry at her body’s reaction, she folded her arms across her chest.