Happy reading yrra's ð
As he cradled her in his arms, his steps carried them toward the attached bathroomâa space that exuded both luxury and intimacy. The moment they crossed the threshold, the automatic lights flickered on, casting a soft glow over the striking interior.
The bathroom was a masterpiece of design, its walls adorned with massive mirrors on all four sides, reflecting every angle, every breath, every unspoken emotion between them. Yet, beyond the mirrored expanse, everything else followed a singular, dominant themeâblack. From the sleek marble flooring to the minimalist yet extravagant fixtures, the space exuded a bold, almost possessive elegance. A lavish bathtub nestled in one corner, its placement calculated for both comfort and indulgence, while a spacious shower area stood nearby, its dark tiles gleaming under the soft glow of the recessed lighting.
But none of that held his attention at the moment. It was herâsilent in his embrace, the usual glimmer of mischief absent from her gaze, the teasing smirk nowhere to be found. A rare moment of quiet between them.
Stepping further inside, he didnât take her to the tub or the shower. Instead, he carried her to the wide basin area, where yet another grand mirror stretched across the wall. Carefully, almost reverently, he set her down atop the sleek counter, the cool surface a stark contrast against her warmth. Their reflections stared back at themâtwo souls entwined in a space designed to capture every moment, every emotion, without escape.
As he settled her on the counter, his hands lingering just enough to ensure she was comfortable, his gaze softened for a fleeting moment. She, adorned in a deep-neck, backless blouse paired with a lehenga, did nothing but watch him. Her breath remained steady, her expression unreadable. Yet, as his eyes found hers, something shifted.
Aadish, whose gaze had always spoken of loveâgentle, unyielding, and warmânow held something else. Something deeper. Something she had never seen before.
He stepped back, his eyes never straying from her face, yet the air between them thickened with an unspoken longing. He wanted to touch her. Craved it. But instead, he took his time, reaching for the hem of his kurta. With slow, deliberate movements, he pulled it over his head, the fabric sliding away effortlessly. His neck jewels came off next, a quiet clink echoing in the space.
Her eyes dropped to his bodyâone she had touched before, but never like this. And as if drawn by an invisible force, her hands moved forward, hesitant yet compelled. Before she could struggle with the decision, he made it easier, stepping closer, bridging the space between them.
Her fingertips barely grazed his chest, yet it was enough to set something ablaze within both of them. His breath hitchedâjust for a secondâbefore he lifted his hand to her hair, undoing the careful arrangement, letting the dark waves tumble down her back.
She stilled. Her hands froze. Her gaze lifted back to his.
And in that moment, the world outside ceased to exist.
Aadishâs lips curled into a smirk before his fingers tangled into her hair, gripping them firmlyânot enough to hurt, but just enough to make her breath hitch. And then, without hesitation, he pulled her into a kiss that stole the air from her lungs.
It wasnât just a kiss; it was a claim, a silent confession, a culmination of years of longing wrapped in the heat of the moment. His lips moved against hers with urgency, devouring, tasting, owning. And when he finally broke away, both of them gasping, a knowing smirk danced on her lips as well.
Catching her breath, she whispered, "Ye hum kya kar rahe hain?" (What are we doing?) Her voice was barely above a murmur, teasing yet unsure, her heart pounding against her ribs.
Aadishâs grip didnât waver. One hand still tangled in her hair, the other now tightening around her neck, his thumb tracing her jaw with possessive ease. She had no time to react before his deep voice rumbled against her skin, "Vahi jo hume karna chahiye, biwi..." (Exactly what we should be doing, wife...) His words sent a shiver down her spine, the weight of his intent pressing into the space between them.
Before she could say another word, his lips crashed onto hers again, claiming them with renewed fervor. The desperation, the hunger, the years of restraintâeverything poured into that kiss. When he pulled away, his breath hot against her lips, his voice dropped to a whisper, "Vahi jiska intezar kiya humne saalon se." (The very thing we have waited years for.)
And then, as if sealing his words, his lips trailed lower. His fingers traced the curve of her face before they journeyed downward, his mouth following their path. A soft gasp left her lips as his kisses traveled along her jaw, down the delicate line of her neck.
And when he bit downâsharp, possessive, branding her as hisâshe knew there was no turning back.
His lips traveled lower, tracing every curve, every inch of her skin with a devotion that burned through her veins. When he reached her chest, his teeth grazed against her skin, sinking in just enough to leave a markâa silent claim. A gasp escaped her lips, her body shuddering in response, and in an attempt to stifle the sound, she bit down on her lower lip.
But he noticed.
His movements halted abruptly. His hands found her face, parting her lips with a slow, deliberate touch as his darkened gaze met hers. A smirk played on his lips, but his voice was laced with unspoken authority as he murmured, "They are mine to bite, mine to adore⦠donât you dare, biwi, to hurt them." (They are mine to bite, mine to cherish... donât you dare, wife, to hurt them.)
To seal his words, he leaned in, pressing a soft, lingering kiss against her lips. The tenderness of it contrasted sharply with the intensity of his presence, making her heart pound even faster. She could feel itâhow deep his claim ran, how much he meant every word.
"Just say my name, biwi... or bite me⦠scratch me⦠but donât hurt them. They are mine, biwi." (Just say my name, wife... or bite me... scratch me... but donât hurt them. They belong to me, wife.)
His voice, deep and possessive, sent a shiver through her as his thumb brushed over her lips, soothing the spot where she had bitten moments ago. His touch was gentle, yet there was no mistaking the command in his words.
And in that moment, she knewâshe was his, in every way he desired.
His voice, his eyesâevery part of him spoke of an obsession he had kept buried for years. The restraint he once held was unraveling, revealing the raw, unfiltered need that had always existed beneath the surface. But what he didnât knowâwhat even he couldnât have predictedâwas that Avantika wasnât afraid of it.
She didnât shy away. She didnât hesitate.
Instead, her own gaze darkened, matching the intensity in his. Possessiveness bloomed in her heart, fierce and undeniable. If he was obsessed, then so was she. If he craved her, then she wanted nothing more than to be his addiction. The way he wasâunapologetically hersâmade her fall for him even harder.
At this moment, nothing else mattered. Not the world beyond their room, not the air that stood still between them. All she could see was him.
The hunger in his gaze, the way he looked at her as if she was the only thing that had ever mattered, sent a shiver down her spine. He wanted her, and he wasnât hiding it anymore.
And the way his need for her burned so openlyâso fiercelyâwas driving her insane.
As she nodded in response to his words, his grip tightened slightly, his eyes dark with intensity. But he wasnât satisfied with just a gesture.
"No, biwi⦠you have to say it." His voice was deep, commanding, leaving no room for disobedience. His gaze never left hers as he continued, "Iâm not going to miss a single chance to hear your melodious voice tonightânot even for a second, biwi."
A knowing smirk played on her lips, and without hesitation, she replied, her voice sweet yet teasing, "Yes, Mr. R."
His jaw tensed at the name, a low chuckle escaping his lips before he tsked, shaking his head. "Tsk tsk, biwi⦠itâs Aadish for you." His voice dropped lower, rough with desire, as he leaned in like a starving man finally being given his first meal.
His lips found her neck, his teeth grazing her delicate skin before sinking in with just enough force to leave a markâa mark that was his alone.
But instead of a gasp, instead of a soft moan, she did something that made his breath catch.
"Aa⦠dii⦠aadiii... shhhhh... Aadish..." She whispered his name, drawing it out, teasing, breathless, her voice carrying both surrender and possession. Her hands slid up his back, fingers digging into his skin, pulling him closer, holding him tightly as if she never wanted to let go.
His lips moved with worship, tracing every inch of her skin, his devotion leaving no space untouched. And just as she was lost in the moment, her mind clouded with emotions, her body reacting to every touchâher eyes suddenly widened.
A soft gasp escaped her lips as she felt the delicate knot of her backless blouse come undone.
She looked up at him, her heart racing, only to find his gaze locked onto hersâintense, possessive, unapologetic.
"Aadish," she called, her voice barely above a whisper, yet filled with something he couldnât ignore.
His lips curled into a soft smirk as he responded, "Ji, betu?" (Yes, love?) His voice was laced with warmth, but the desire in his eyes never wavered.
Before he could say another word, she moved.
Without hesitation, without any second thoughts, her hands reached up, cupping his face gently yet firmly. Her palms pressed against the roughness of his stubble, her fingers tracing the sharp lines of his jaw. She held him like he was something preciousâsomething she never wanted to lose.
Her sudden action made his breath hitch, his darkened eyes searching hers. There was no hesitation in her touch, no shynessâonly an overwhelming intensity that mirrored his own.
He had thoughtâmaybe, just maybeâshe needed time. That she wasnât ready for the fire burning between them. But her eyes told a different story.
Aadish felt the shift before he could fully process it. Her hands cradled his face with an intensity that made his breath falter. And then, without hesitation, she leaned inâher lips pressing against his in a slow, deliberate peck.
But she didnât stop there.
Before pulling away, she bit downâsharp and preciseâat the corner of his lips. A sting of pain shot through him, raw and unexpected, making his grip on her tighten involuntarily. His fingers dug into her waist, his breath ragged, as he felt the slight warmth of blood mixing between them.
And then, as if the moment itself wasnât enough to shake him, his eyes flickered to the mirrors surrounding themâtheir reflections staring back, the crimson stain on both their lips glaring like a mark of war.
His gaze snapped back to her just as she whispered, her voice dripping with possession, "And this red, blood-coated lip of yours is mine⦠Mr. Rajawat. It belongs to Avantika Aadish Rajawat. Remember that."
The way she said itâeach word slow, deliberate, laced with a claim that sent a violent shiver down his spineâmade something primal snap inside him.
This wasnât just a statement.
It was a warning. A declaration. A possession.
And heâAadish Rajawatâwas officially hers.
His words, his controlâeverything he thought he hadâwas dead in front of his wifeâs new side.
Avantika wasnât just responding to him; she was matching him. Step for step. Touch for touch. Look for look.
The intensity in her eyes was no longer soft or hesitant. It burned, just as fierce, just as consuming as his own. The same fearlessness he had always admired in her was now directed at him, and he loved it.
He loved the way her gaze didnât waver, how she wasnât just surrenderingâshe was claiming.
His wife wasnât just his anymore.
He was hers.
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SUkriya ji ð â¤ï¸ love you all
Please complete the next target ji before next Sunday
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