Chapter 17
18+ Chapter!!!
Steamy Scenes and ILLUSTRATIONS Ahead...
READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!! I WILL NOT HAVE YOU REPORT THIS STORY BECAUSE YOU DID NOT HEED THE WARNING!!
This is where things start to get interesting. Not explicit enough to scandalise you, but spicy enough to raise an eyebrow.
Future chapters? Let's just say... they'll earn the rating.
If you're here for the steam, stay tuned. The temperature's only going up from here.
So buckle up, stay hydrated, and don't say I didn't warn you later ;)
- Aaina
ARYAN
As my cock twitched with the painful need to be inside her, I recalled her soft and pliant body in my arms, just a few moments ago. Her soft skin under my fingertips as I rinsed off the Haldi on it.
Haldi, which was applied to her to make her glow. For me.
I pumped my cock at the thought.
Then I recalled how comfortably she sat on me. My cock pressed against her the whole time our family had watched. She squirmed and yet, stuck close.
I pumped harder.
That night, as her pink beach dress fluttered around her, I had her pinned against the tree. Even then, she had let me touch her, however I wanted.
It was exhilarating.
"Fuck you to hell," I said as I pumped faster. It was all because of her. She initiated a game of hate between us, and I gladly continued. She got me hard every time I saw her, and yet, I didn't do anything but deal with it in silence.
That night, she was wet.
And even then, her mouth had uttered those spiteful, hurtful words. If I had continued with what I had started, she would have let me. All the while hating me.
"You relish in torturing me, don't you?" I said and pumped harder. My hands didn't stop, and I recalled the only thing that had managed to get me off since that night.
The feel of her bare and wet pussy.
How soft she had been. How warm
"Ah, fuck!" My grip on myself tightened at the thought of putting her pussy to good use.
Finger her until she was a crying mess, eat her until she begged me stop, and fuck her until she forgot everything but me.
"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" There was no way someone as hardheaded and angry as her wouldn't want to be fucked until her mind cleared. And then, she would even beg me for more.
I groaned as I came close to a release.
I had barely touched her that night. Her exposed spine with feather-light fingertips, her neck with my breath and lips and finally her pussy with my fingers. She was so sensitive that she audibly gasped the moment my lips touched her back.
The sound of it still rang in my ear. It was the sole performer in my most erotic dreams.
Her lying on my bed naked, waiting for me to use her. Her hands were bound with my belt, and her eyes were blindfolded with my tie. She lay on my bed, and I sat in a chair looking at her, tormenting her.
"Wh--where are you?" She would ask.
"I am here."
"Th--then, won't you... Won't you do anything?"
"What do you want me to do?" I would ask as she squirmed on my sheets, uncomfortable, alone, on the bed, and feeling the heat of my stare.
"I want you to..." she paused. "Touch me," she whispered.
I tilted my head and looked at her. "Then beg."
I leaned forward, against the wall, as the weight of my arousal burned my body. My hand moved faster as my strokes brought me closer to an orgasm.
"Please," she whispered. "Please touch me."
I got up from my chair and hovered over her. Her hair clung to her sweaty skin, and I gently pushed it back. "Is that all you wanted, Princess?"
She gasped at my touch and gently shook her head. Her breathing was shallow. "More."
I tsked. "You have to be more specific."
She gulped. "I want you to..."
"Hmm..." I hummed and brought my lips close to her ears. "You want me to...?"
She shuddered and in a tiny voice, she managed to say, "I want you to fuck me, please."
"Kethaki," I groaned as I came and my cum spluttered out of me. "Fuck, Kethaki, fuck, fuck!" I pumped my cock through my orgasm. "I just fist-fucked my cock and came at the thought of you. Only you."
My cock was still hard, as I gave it some final strokes. But it wasn't as painful as it had been before. "Only you, Princess. Just you."
My head cleared.
The reality of my situation rushed to my brain.
That was the reality of my relationship with my nemesis.
A woman who made my blood pump with anger, as much as it did with arousal. A woman who couldn't stand the thought of being in the same room with me, but had managed to survive the moment when I had my hand under her skirt and had rubbed her wet pussy with my fingers. A woman who begged and cried to be taken away from me when we were kids, and would become my wife tomorrow.
I looked down at my hand. Still bleeding.
Turning off the shower, I walked out, wrapping a towel around my waist, and I got the most beautiful surprise of my life.
Kethaki sat on my bed.
It was straight out of the erotic dream I just came to in the bathroom. All she had to do was take off her green lehenga, which was in that weird shape. The front of it was high enough to reach above her knees and fell to the floor at the back. And then, take off the halter corset blouse, which exposed her arms, shoulders and back. Open her hair, which had been knotted at the top of her head in a bun, and let her long hair cascade down her back. Then, lie down on the bed and spread her legs open, give me the come-hither look, and wait for me to come and devour her.
But of course, that didn't happen. She sat on the bed, her exposed legs crossed in front of her, as she leaned back on the bed, her mouth open as she blatantly ogled my naked body.
As I raised my eyebrow at her wide eyes, she covered them with her hands. "Do you have no shame? Walking into your room in nothing but a towel?"
"You walk out of the bathroom fully clothed, Princess?"
"No, I wear a thing called 'bathrobe'!"
At that, I was tempted to drop the towel and see how she would react. "Good to know. Will prepare me for the future."
She gasped. "You really are turning insane." She peeked through her fingers and shut them again. "Wear some clothes, you pervert!"
'I am marrying you, Princess. In fact, I am looking forward to marrying you. I am looking forward to being in the same room as you. Nothing is more insane than that.'
"Not happening. What are you doing here? Missed me already, Princess?" I walk over to the dresser in my towel, running my fingers through my wet hair.
"In your dreams, Peasant." She got up and walked over to the dresser and leaned against it. "I am here to ask you about what happened at Haldi," she said and glared at me.
"What part exactly?" I asked. "The part where you sat on my cock like it was your right, or the part where I laid out all my secrets and thoughts in front of you?"
Her mouth dropped at my words. "First of all, I didn't have a choice in the first instance. You were holding me so tightly, and then it turned into a weird rasam where we would be washing together, and I couldn't get out of it. It was completely unwanted, and I would have gotten away if I could. And second--" She stopped the moment I turned and stepped towards her.
Her breath hitched when I leaned forward, and taking a deep breath, I placed my hands on the dresser, bracketing her in my arms. "Have you been telling yourself this lie ever since that night?"
She turned red at our proximity. Her eyes darted down at my naked chest, and then back up. Looking directly in my eyes, she said, "I have no idea what you're talking about!"
A laugh burst out of me at her reply. "Are you actually playing this game, Princess?"
She gulped but tipped her chin up and brought that haughty expression that she used to adorn her beautiful face every day. "What game? I don't know what you are talking about."
Her expression was serious, and if I hadn't known about her tendency to lie constantly, I might have bought it. But I knew her exactly as I knew about the mole above her cleavage. "Alright," I said and stepped closer.
This time, she looked up, not with a sense of pride, rather with dread.
I was close enough to see that mole again, if it hadn't been for the blouse.
I had her trapped against the dresser. And I stepped closer. My body was flush against hers, and exactly how I had predicted, she didn't push me away. I could feel the rapid rise and fall of her chest as her breasts pushed against me.
"What are you doing?" Her voice was barely a breath.
"Reminding you of the events of that night," I said, and with that, I grabbed her shoulders and spun her to face the mirror. She gasped at the sudden movement.
"Well, not exactly. I mean, we can't get a tree in this room, to pin you against, so this dresser will do." I looked in her eyes through the mirror. Then, placing a hand on her back, I bent her forward. "Remember in Bali, when you were dressed in that pink beach dress and I had you pinned against the tree?"
"No," she whispered. Her eyes flickered. Oh, she knew. She knew exactly what I was talking about.
I smirked, and she gulped at my expression. "And then, I had brushed your hair aside like this," I said, and gently, touching her nape, I pretended to gather her hair and swipe it away on her shoulder. I would have done it had it not been for them being pinned. She shuddered at my touch and her breathing shallowed. "You had shuddered exactly like this."
I leaned into her body, losing control over myself. "And how I had gently kissed your neck like this, hmm?" Placing a kiss on her exposed neck, and stepped into her, pushing her into the dresser. Her smell surrounded me like a vice. My mouth watered. I wanted to get closer. Fuck, I wanted to get inside her, if I could.
This wasn't enough.
It had never been enough.
"'You are driving me mad, Princess,'" I groaned in her ear. "I had said this, hadn't I?"
She nodded.
Slowly, and gently, I trailed my mouth down her spine, and she arched into my touch. "That night, I had discovered that your most sensitive zone was your back," I said, and bit the mole that was right in the middle of her spine.
She moaned as my teeth nibbled at her sensitive skin, leaving behind a hickey.
I licked it.
"How long had it taken for the hickey to go away?" I finally asked her. It had been seared into my mind, and I wanted to know for how long I had managed to mark her.
"Three weeks," she groaned, as I began my assault on the mole again.
I smiled against her skin. "So, until you were in India, you had carried my gift with you everywhere?"
She didn't reply.
"Still don't remember what I am talking about, Princess?" I asked her again, looking up into the mirror. Her eyes were glued to me, and her attention was on the assault my teeth and tongue wreaked on her body.
She shook her head, and I smiled. She had granted my wish. There was no way I would have stopped here if she had admitted to remembering the night I was talking about.
I wanted to continue.
"Maybe this will remind you," I said. Trailing my hands down her spine, slowly, I said, "After all, that moment had fundamentally changed my life." I reached lower, lower, lower, and finally, after caressing her waist, then hip, ass and thighs, I grabbed the hem of her lehenga and pushed my hand inside, grabbing the inside of her thigh.
She gasped at my rough touch.
"Is this helping your memory, darling?" I asked her. My voice was soft and gentle.
Through the mirror, she looked at me with half-lidded eyes. The languid expression she wore set my blood on fire, and I wanted to burn her in it.
She shook her head.
To that, I began trailing my hand upwards, taking my time. "This?" I whispered in her ear. She didn't reply. Her entire body was still, and she was looking me dead in my eyes. As I trailed my hands towards her pussy, which I knew was wet, she maintained eye contact.
And my cock stirred.
"Now?" I asked in a voice full of desire and sex. My fingers were touching the lines of her panties, and she still shook her head.
That had done it.
I wanted to torture us both some more, before giving us the relief we wanted, but all those thoughts went out of my brain when I realised what she had wanted me to do.
One day, I would make her say it and then beg me for it. Right now, her lies and desperation in her eyes were enough.
Without thinking, my hands went inside her panties, and I grabbed her wet pussy.
She moaned and fell into the dresser. Sliding my other hand under her, I pulled her up towards me. Her bare back touched my naked body, and she gasped at the sensations that ran through both our bodies.
The reflection of her leaning on me, with lust marring her entire face, while I had my hand under her lehenga, grabbing her pussy, was an image I would remember until my dying breath.
"Anything?" I asked.
She was panting.
And when she shook her head, I dipped my head into the crook of her neck and said, "if you wanted to me touch your bare pussy that bad, darling, all you had to do was ask." I spread her lips and with my middle finger, I rubbed her clit.
Her moan filled the room as her eyes shuddered close and she buckled in my hold. She didn't fall, but she did rub my cock.
"I had done this," I murmured in her ear, and rubbed her again.
"I had touched you, like I owned every inch of your body," I whispered.
Her eyes snapped open at my words, and she pushed me away. Her eyes were wide with terror as she looked at me, panting. She gulped and brushed her hands on her lehenga to get it in order.
"You had done this too," I noted, as I tried to understand her reaction. She had the same look she had that night. Like she was scared of me. But that couldn't be true. The last thing she felt whenever I was concerned was fear.
"Princess," I called out to her.
She stood there, frozen.
And to snap her out of whatever trance she had been in, I reached for her with my already bleeding hand, and grabbing her throat, I pushed her against the dresser again. My light brip on her throat brought her attention back to me, and her previously dead eyes glared at me again.
"Let go of me!" She snapped, and I pushed her against the dresser even more.
"Where did you go off to?" I asked.
"I was thinking about how dry, suffocating and utterly joyless a future with you would be," she replied.
A lump formed in my throat at her words, and like poison, I swallowed. Looking at the hateful expression on her face, I realised how serious she was. Gone was the girl who was singing to the tune I played on her body, and instead, the hateful and cold girl she pretended to be stood.
She changed faces like a con artist. And I was done being the victim in her latest charade.
Smirking at her words, I raised my other hand and punched the mirror behind her, smashing it into tiny pieces. Shards of its broken pieces flew around us, and Kethaki screamed and covered her face with her hands.
I didn't remove my hand from the mirror and silently waited for her to drop her hands.
It was an eternity before she actually dropped the hand that shielded her eyes and slowly looked up at me, her eyes full of tears. She then looked around us, and she regarded the damaged pieces of the mirror that surrounded us.
"Exciting enough for you, Princess?" I asked her. My voice was hoarse, and a tear fell from her eyes as she looked up. I could feel her gulp at my words.
I take my hand off the broken mirror and place it on the dresser, still covered with pieces of mirror, sharp enough to cut. And they do. They dig into my skin and lean further into them, bringing my body closer to her, my lips against her ear.
"There's a monster inside me, and it's been watching you," I whisper. "Don't test its patience." I squeeze her throat, enough to bring my point across. "Once it's unleashed, it won't stop until you're broken. No apologies, no second chances. Keep your tongue in check, future wife. This is your only warning."
Her face was blank, but her eyes. They were filled, partially, with fear and the rest with silent rage at my audacity to threaten her.
I stepped away from her, releasing her throat from my grip. My work was done here. "Get out," I said.
Without sparing me or my bleeding hand a second glance like a good little wife, she ran away, the payal I had gifted her jingling in the wake of what had happened.
I was happy with the outcome, even though my hands were bleeding and torn. I called Veer to bring the resident doctor to come and patch both of my bleeding hands, one more than the other.
I showed her a glimpse of the psychopath that lurked inside me whenever she was concerned. He wanted to devour her. And keeping him in check was harder than I would like to admit. Especially since I knew her back was sensitive and she kept it exposed to the world to see. Daring them to touch it.
Daring me to touch it.
She didn't need to know that the madman wasn't out for her blood. He was out for her flesh. Something, she would soon find out.
She needed to fear it, and today, I had managed to scare her, albeit not completely. If Kethaki Thakur was scared of a simple punch to the mirror, she wouldn't be the dangerous woman she was.
"You could have inspected my wound or at least turned to see if I was hurt when I punched the mirror," I tsked as I inspected the wounds. "You are going to be my wife, Princess. It's your duty to take care of my well-being."
A knock on the door alerted me of the doctor's arrival, who patched both my hands. My left hand was bandaged fully, while only the knuckles needed dressing on the right. I changed into my clothes for mehndi, and I walked out. Veer stood there, with his tab.
"We will put the alpha version of DataNexus into her phone tonight." We walk down the hallway, leading to the ballroom, where we would be having our mehndi ceremony. "Make my phone the link between them. I will put my phone next to hers, link them and bounce it off into hers."
He nodded as he got to work.
We walked into the ballroom, and Kethaki sat in her chair, waiting for the ceremony to start. She looked me dead in my eyes as I walked into the room, not betraying a single emotion or thought of what she felt about the whole ordeal.
'As expected of my princess.'
I took my place beside her, putting my phone right next to hers, and waited for Veer to do the job.
She ignored my presence, and I silently relished in hers.
The artist who sat at her feet asked Kethaki, "Ma'am, what is your groom's name?"
My eyes jumped to Kethaki, and I watched her open and close her mouth like a fish. I smirked involuntarily.
'Will you say it? After fifteen years? Will you finally take my name again, even for just a second? Even just once?'
She gulped and turned to look at me.
"Aryan," she murmured.
The smirk turned into a smile as I let her voice wash over me. She did say it. She took my name. I had expected her to say Peasant just to get on my nerves, but she didn't. Had she taken my threats to heart?
'Will you behave now, Princess?' My eyes asked. Before she could reply, a voice interrupted us.
Tara Maa came forward, her eyes fixed on my hands. "Aryan, what happened?" She looked up at me. "I swear to God, why is it that, every few days, you have cuts on your hands?"
"Don't tell me! Did you punch a wall again?" Shiva asked, her hands going to her waist.
"Or a mirror?"Vikram asked.
"Or a glass window?" Asked Shivanya.
"Did you punch someone? Who was it?" Mohini Chachi asked.
"Please! I am sure he broke a glass in his hands again," said Vedika Bua.
"He punched a wall and then a mirror," Papa said from afar, as he inspected the dressing pattern.
"And then cut his palm with a broken piece of mirror as well," Brij Chachu said.
Parth gasped, dramatically. "Don't tell me. You did this because you didn't want to do the Mehndi Rasam," he said. "Why go to such lengths just to not have mehndi on your hands?" Then smirked. "Because it would be in Kethaki's name?"
"Why? Don't you want her name on your hands?" Anil Mama asked, his head tilting.
This entire conversation was under thirty seconds.
"It's funny how you reached this conclusion by just looking at the wounds on my hands," I commented.
"It does look suspicious." Jaya Aunty observed from Kethaki's side.
"And extremely insulting," Viraj Uncle said from her side.
"Again, a big leap." I raised my right hand. "I punched the wall when I received the news of my incompetent team making a mess of the Murthy deal." I, then, raised my completely wounded left hand. "And then I punched the mirror and accidentally slammed my palm on the broken pieces when I was threatening the Manager's job and life on the phone."
"Acceptable excuses," Viraj Uncle said. "Still, the problem remains. What about the rasam?"
"Don't worry, Papa," Kethaki said from my right. "His hands would be red tomorrow, and not just because of the blood from the wound, but with mehndi as well," she completed, and grabbed a cone from the artist who was preparing to start with her work.
"The oil?" She asked, and the artist placed that yellow bottle in her hands. Then, Kethaki turned to me.
"I will apply mehndi to my groom, myself," she exclaimed, looking at them and then at me.
I smirked. "An act befitting a princess," I said, and her jaw clenched at my words, assuming I was mocking her.
Silently, she raised her hand to me, palm open, the way I had at the sangeet.
I simply placed my right hand into hers.
Then, she began her work. She applied some of the oil to the heel of my palm, right above my wrist. Her fingers were gentle, and they dug into my skin.
She might as well had been stroking my cock, with the way it had reacted to her touch.
She gave the oil back to the artist and gently placed her left hand under mine to steady it. Like how mine would be placed under hers, during her kanyadaan.
Then, she drew on my hand with the cone. I didn't look down to see what she was drawing, as long as she continued to touch me and grab like it was her right.
Finishing whatever she was doing to my hand, she gave the cone back to the artist and looked at her father.
"Is this enough?" She asked, smiling sweetly.
Her father's eyes were glued to my hand, his eyes shining. "Yes," he replied in a hoarse voice, then turned around and walked over to the drinking station to grab another.
Jaya Aunty stepped forward and gently kissed her forehead.
"It's good to see that you have truly accepted this marriage, Kethaki," Tara Maa said, he eyes not leaving my hand.
Kethaki didn't say anything for a second. "I don't understand," she finally said.
"Look at your handiwork carefully, Bhabhi," Shivanya said, her mouth stretched into a wide smile.
We looked.
The sight should have come with a warning.
Nothing could have prepared me for what my future wife had drawn on my skin.
My heart almost lurched at the words, and I turned to look at my bride, who looked shocked at the words she herself had written on my skin.
I wanted them etched on my soul.
She didn't speak. Didn't move.
She sat in her place like a statue as the evening continued and the words on my hand tingled.
'Should I have them tattooed?' I thought as I felt them dry and slowly chip off. It had dried completely by the time the artist who worked on her right hand had completed her work and had begun working on her right foot.
"Do you want to eat now, beta?" Viraj Uncle came towards her, a plate in his hands.
She nodded, clearly still shaken from what she had written.
"Aryan, why don't you?" Jaya Aunty asked. "Help her eat, I mean."
Viraj Uncle turned to look at his wife.
"It would be his duty from tomorrow," she told her husband, who looked at his daughter, the words on my hand and then at me.
"Right," He cleared his throat, and passed me the plate, which had all the things she loved to eat.
And I gladly accepted it.
Scooping some biriyani mixed with dahi into the spoon, I raised it to her mouth.
There were hoots all around us and flashes.
Kethaki just stared at the hand that held the spoon and finally opened her mouth to eat.
Smiling, I began feeding my bride with the hand that had been carved by her with her correct name.
'Kethaki Rathore'
~*~
If Aryan and Kethaki were a normal couple:
For updates, follow me on Wattpad as I post announcements on my board about the updates or on Instagram about future updates.
@aainamundra
Write a comment ...