“I have seen you before, love,” he murmured, tracing languid lines over my thighs.“You are beautiful.”
I bit the inside of my lip as he settled between my legs, nudging my knees closer to my chest until my henna- and mahavar-inked feet rested against his chest. The intimacy of it made my breath hitch.
He leaned down and kissed my ankles, one by one. My toes curled reflexively.
The placement made me unbearably shy.
He closed his eyes, and I quickly pulled my feet back, stretching my legs long instead and hooking them around the curve of his waist. A faint smile tugged at his lips as he placed his hands on my midriff.
“You look so beautiful in all this gold,” he whispered, caressing my belly with feather-light strokes.
I swallowed hard as he gripped my waist and drew me closer. The intimacy felt raw… explicit.
“Are you ready, love?” he asked softly, massaging my breast.
I clenched the sheets on either side of me and nodded.
He slowly pulled his kurta over his head.
My gaze locked onto his bare, muscular torso. It looked dangerously alluring. His biceps flexed as he lifted his arms, and my breath caught in my throat. I trembled under his gaze, and he noticed.
That faint, knowing smirk appeared.
He extended his hands toward me, and I placed mine in his. The sound of my bangles clinked loudly, slicing through the thick silence in the chamber. He opened my clenched fists and guided my hands to his midriff.
As my fingertips met the warmth of his skin, I was at ease. My breathing steadied. I stared at our henna-stained hands intertwined against his body, reminding myself that he was my husband. That pleasing him was as much my right as it was his.
I lifted myself slightly, withdrawing my hands to support my weight. His brows knitted in confusion, then softened into a smile when I wrapped an arm around his neck and pulled him down.
My hands shook from nervousness.
I drew him close, cupping his cheek and neck carefully, and pressed my lips to his forehead.
“I love you too, Kunwar-sa,” I whispered.
He inhaled deeply and captured my lips.“Say that again,” he murmured against my mouth.
He shifted, grasped my leg, and parted my thighs before kissing me again.
“Hum bhi aapse bahut prem karte hain,”“I too love you a lot.” I whispered on his lips.
My toes curled into the bedsheet as I felt his hardness press against me. He kissed me once more, then rested his forehead against mine.
“Do you want to do it?” he husked out.
My eyes rolled back as his hand slipped between us.
“Ye… yes,” I breathed.
His fingers found my most sensitive place.
“Are you sure, love?” he asked, breathing heavily.
I tightened my grip around his neck and nodded.
He moved his fingers in gentle strokes. I couldn’t fully understand, but I was certain he was taking his time, playing with my wet folds, up and down. Sensation bloomed, spreading heat through my core.
A deep, needy ache pulsed inside me.
