Chapter 7 #3
As if sensing her nervousness, he cupped her face. "You're beautiful. Every part of you. Don't hide from me."
"I've never—"
"I know." His thumb traced her lower lip. "I'll make it good. I promise."
Then his mouth was on her neck, kissing, sucking, marking. His hands explored her body with reverent hunger—cupping her breasts through the lace, thumb brushing over her nipples until they hardened into peaks.
She gasped, sensation shooting straight to her core.
"Sensitive," he noted with dark satisfaction. "Good."
He unhooked her bra, letting it fall away, and then his mouth was on her breast, tongue swirling around the hardened peak before sucking it deep.
Akriti cried out, her hands fisting in his hair, holding him to her.
"Raghav—"
"Say my name like that when I'm inside you," he growled against her skin. "I want to hear it. Want to hear you scream it."
His crude words should have shocked her. Instead, they made her wetter.
He worked his way down her body, kissing every scar, every mark the accident had left. His tongue traced the surgical line on her thigh.
"Beautiful," he murmured. "Every part of you is beautiful."
Then he was removing her petticoat, leaving her in just her panties—delicate lace that was already soaked with her arousal.
He groaned when he saw. "You're wet for me."
Embarrassment flooded her. "I—"
"Don't." His hand cupped her through the lace, making her gasp. "Don't be embarrassed. This—" He pressed harder, and she whimpered. "—this is perfect. You want me. Your body knows it belongs to me."
He removed the last barrier, leaving her completely naked before him.
For a long moment, he just looked at her. His gaze was so intense, so possessive, that she felt branded by it.
"On the bed," he ordered, his voice rough.
She obeyed, her heart pounding, her body trembling with need and nerves.
He stripped off his shirt, revealing a body honed by violence and power—broad chest, defined abs, scars that spoke of a dangerous life.
He was beautiful. Terrifying. Hers.
He removed his pants, his arousal evident, and she couldn't help but stare.
He was big. Thick. Would he even fit?
"It'll fit," he said, reading her expression. He climbed onto the bed, caging her beneath him. "Your body was made for mine. We'll fit perfectly."
His hand slid between her thighs, fingers exploring her slick folds. She gasped at the intimate touch, her hips bucking.
"So wet," he murmured approvingly. "So ready for me."
He circled her clit with his thumb, and pleasure sparked through her body. She moaned, her head falling back.
"That's it," he encouraged. "Let me hear you. Don't hold back."
His finger slid inside her, and she tensed at the unfamiliar intrusion.
"Relax," he soothed, kissing her neck. "Let me in. Let me make you feel good."
He worked her slowly, carefully, adding a second finger when she relaxed, stretching her, preparing her. His thumb continued its maddening circles on her clit, building pleasure higher and higher.
"Raghav, I—" She didn't know how to describe what she was feeling. The tension building. The need coiling tighter.
"Let go," he commanded. "Come for me, Akriti. Show me how beautiful you are when you fall apart."
His fingers curled inside her, hitting some spot that made stars explode behind her eyes. The tension snapped, and she came with a cry, her body convulsing around his fingers, pleasure washing through her in waves.
"Perfect," he growled, watching her come undone. "Absolutely perfect."
Before she could recover, he was positioning himself at her entrance. The broad head of his cock pressed against her slick opening.
"Look at me," he ordered.
She opened her eyes, meeting his intense gaze.
"This might hurt," he said honestly. "But I'll go slow. And I promise—" He pressed in slightly, making her gasp. "—I promise I'll make it feel good."
He pushed forward, slowly, inexorably. The stretch was intense, bordering on painful. She whimpered, her hands gripping his shoulders.
"Breathe," he murmured, his own breathing ragged with the effort of control. "Relax. Let me in."
Inch by inch, he filled her. Stretched her. Claimed her.
When he was fully seated, they both stilled, breathing hard.
"You okay?" he asked, his voice strained.
She nodded, adjusting to the fullness, the intimate invasion of her body.
"Words, Akriti. I need words."
"I'm okay. It's just—you're—"
"Big?" His smile was dark. "Yes. And you're taking me so perfectly. Like your body was made for mine."
He began to move, slow shallow thrusts that let her body adjust. The pain faded, replaced by a building pleasure. A delicious friction. A sense of completeness.
"More," she heard herself beg.
"Greedy," he approved. "I like it."
He increased his pace, thrusting deeper, harder. His hands gripped her hips, angling her for maximum penetration.
"Look at me," he commanded. "Only me. Always me."
She met his gaze, and the intensity there stole her breath. He wasn't just claiming her body. He was claiming all of her.
"Mine," he growled, punctuating the word with a particularly deep thrust. "Say it."
"Yours," she gasped. "I'm yours."
"Again."
"Yours, Raghav. Always yours."
He groaned, his control slipping. His thrusts became harder, faster, more desperate. The bed creaked beneath them. The headboard slammed against the wall.
"No one else will ever touch you," he said, his voice dark and possessive. "No one else will ever see you like this. No one else will ever make you feel what I make you feel."
"No one," she agreed, her nails raking down his back.
The pleasure built again, higher than before, more intense. His thumb found her clit, circling relentlessly, pushing her toward the edge.
"Come for me," he ordered. "Come on my cock. Let me feel you."
The command pushed her over. She came with a scream, her body clenching around him, milking him, pulling him deeper.
He followed her over with a roar, his hips jerking as he spilled inside her, marking her internally as his.
They collapsed together, breathing hard, bodies slick with sweat, utterly spent.
For a long moment, neither spoke. Then Raghav lifted his head, his eyes dark and satisfied. "Mine."
"Yours," she agreed softly.
He kissed her, slow and deep. "I was a fool to wait. To waste years."
She traced his face, her fingers gentle. "We're here now."
"Yes." He pulled her against his chest, his arms banding around her possessively. "And I'm never letting you go."
She believed him.
For the first time in three years, she completely, utterly believed him.
*
Morning brought reality. Akriti woke up to sunlight streaming through the windows and a dull ache between her thighs—proof of the night's activities.
She was sprawled across Raghav's chest, his arms locked around her even in sleep. She could see the marks she'd left on his shoulders. The scratches down his back.
She'd marked him as thoroughly as he'd marked her.
Speaking of which—she caught sight of herself in the mirror across the room and gasped.
Her neck was covered in love bites. Her shoulders bore the imprint of his teeth. Her lips were swollen from his kisses.
She looked thoroughly ravished.
"Good morning," Raghav's voice rumbled beneath her ear.
She looked up to find him watching her, his eyes dark with possession and satisfaction.
"You marked me," she accused.
"Extensively." No shame. No apology. Just dark male satisfaction. "I want everyone to know exactly what happened last night."
"Raghav—"
"Akriti." He rolled them so she was beneath him, his body covering hers. "You're mine now. Completely. I claimed you. Marked you. Made you mine in every way that matters."
"People will see—"
"Good." He kissed the mark on her neck. "Let them see. Let them know you're taken. Thoroughly. Completely."
"You're impossible—"
"And you love it." His hand slid between her thighs, finding her still slick from last night. "Your body certainly loves it."
She gasped as he began to work her again, his fingers skilled and knowing.
"Raghav, we should—the family—"
"Can wait." He positioned himself at her entrance. "I need you again. Now."
He pushed inside in one smooth thrust, and she cried out at the intense fullness.
This time was different. Slower. He savored her, worshipped her, took his time building her pleasure until she was begging.
And when they came together, it was with their eyes locked, their hearts racing in sync, their bodies perfectly joined.
Afterward, he dressed her himself, choosing a high-necked blouse to hide some (but not all) of the marks, arranging her hair to fall over her shoulders.
"Perfect," he pronounced. "Now everyone will see you're mine."
At breakfast, the family's reaction was immediate.
Savitri's eyes went wide, then soft with understanding. Vikram's lips twitched with amusement. Priya choked on her tea. Meera looked scandalized.
And Raghav—Raghav kept his hand on Akriti the entire meal. On her shoulder. On her back. On her thigh under the table.
Possessive. Claiming. Utterly shameless.
"Finally," Savitri said simply, her eyes bright with tears.
Vikram just nodded, a small smile on his face.
The extended family didn't know where to look.
And Akriti—Akriti sat there, marked and claimed and utterly possessed, and realized she'd never been happier in her life.
She was his.
Finally, completely, irrevocably his.
And she had no intention of ever being anything else.