I hope you all like the story. And I am really sorry for the delay. I hope you guys dont remain angry and understand me.

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INAYAT'S POV:

The backyard glowed like something out of a dream. Fairy lights hung across every corner, flickering softly as they swayed with the breeze. Lanterns floated mid-air like tiny stars, and the aroma of sweets, flowers, and firecrackers lingered gently. Bright, beautiful, and oddly peaceful.

But what calmed me the most wasn't the lights or the festive chaos. It was Shivansh.

The way he stood earlier, facing everyone, and announced that our wedding wouldn't happen any time soon... not because he didn't want it — but because he wanted me to have the space to chase my dreams first.

And even more surprising? Everyone agreed.

His father's words had stayed with me: no pressure, no questions — just freedom. Everything will happen when we want it to.

A part of me felt lighter. Like I could finally breathe.

The twins squealed with excitement as they ran toward the table stacked with fireworks. Their laughter echoed in the backyard as they called out to Shivansh, who only chuckled and waved from afar.

That's when his father called us again.

We walked up to him, side by side — not touching, but close enough to feel each other's presence.

"I need a small favor," he said. "One of my business partners is coming over with his family. This deal means a lot to us, so I want you both to take care of them, alright?"

Shivansh gave a small nod. "Of course."

I smiled. "We'll make sure they feel welcomed."

"They'll be here in ten minutes," he added before leaving..

A few moments later, I saw uncle walking toward the entrance, that warm formal smile plastered on his face — the kind he reserved only for the 'important' ones. I turned slightly and saw a couple walking beside him. A man and a woman. So formal, so sophisticated.

The woman dripped elegance in her expensive silk sari and that diamond choker that could pay off someone's life. But her face? Wicked. Witchy. With that bitchy high-society attitude I've always despised.

Mr. and Mrs. Roy.

Oh, wow. This man again. My lips twitched.

I don't like this man. Period.

He's got secrets. Dark ones. The kind that don't make it to headlines. The kind people whisper about in clubs after three drinks. Bankruptcy was just around the corner for him, and then he magically bounced back.

Everyone clapped. No one questioned. But I know the truth — he saved his empire through online gambling. Illegally. Carelessly. And quietly.

But honestly? Not my circus, not my monkeys — as long as it doesn't touch my people or my peace.

Still, I put on that fake, sweet, socially-acceptable smile and made my way toward Uncle as he gestured for me to join.

"Roy, this is—"

"—Inayat Verma," he cut in, with that smug, snake-slick voice of his. "Owner of the globally-renowned company AASHIANA.. who doesn't know her?"

His hand stretched out for a shake, that disgusting smile glued to his lips.

Already getting on my nerves, Roy?

I kept my calm, shook his hand, and smiled — but my eyes were sharper than my words.

"Hello, Mr. Roy. Nice to meet you... again."

Again. I said it loud enough. Clear enough. Purposefully.

We didn't have a good history. Never did. And especially not with his daughter. Shambhavi Roy. My old rival. She never liked me, couldn't stand that I existed in the same air as her, and made it her life's mission to try and one-up me. She failed, of course.

Her father eventually backed off too. Because I showed him exactly what I could do if he didn't keep his darling daughter out of my lane.

No one here knows what it took to build my empire. No one knows what I had to become. A maniac? Maybe. But I built something the world couldn't ignore. JUST TO HAVE SHIVANSH, and she getting on my way delayed it a lot.

But not again.

I was about to take a deep breath and walk away when—

Boom.

There she was.

Shambhavi fucking Roy. Walking in like she owned the air around her, in a fitted dark green lehenga, heels clicking confidently, lips curled into that fake-ass smile.

And beside her — Shivansh.

Walking with her. Talking to her.

And cherry on top? Laughing.

I froze. My throat went dry.

Shambhavi's hand grazed his arm — light, deliberate, rehearsed.

And he didn't pull away.

The rage inside me began to boil.

Not dramatic. Not loud.

Just... hot. Controlled. Lethal.

I blinked once. Twice. Reminding myself — where I am.

This is not about me. This is about Uncle. The deal. The evening.

Still the perfect hostess. Still the strong, untouchable woman everyone sees me as.

But beneath that calm smile?

A storm.

She saw me. Of course she did. That smug little twitch in her lips screamed checkmate.

And before I could turn away or collect myself, Shivansh's eyes met mine.

For a split second... he paused.

His smile faltered. He saw that I wasn't okay with him being around her.

Good.

Let it.

Let him feel it — even if he doesn't understand why yet.

I tilted my head, just slightly. Smiled. A small one — tight-lipped, sharp-edged, and cold.

And then I looked away.

I'd play the part.

I'd be everything they didn't expect.

Because one thing's for sure — tonight was about fireworks.

And mine hadn't even begun yet.

I don't want my psychic part to show up again, because if it does... the results will be destructive.

Calm down, Inayat. Shivansh is yours.

"Did he tell you that? He didn't even confess his feelings for you, Inayat. In which delusion are you living?"

My mind mocked.

"Shut up. Nothing like that will happen."

To calm myself, I quietly slipped out of the backyard, out of sight — away from the crowd, the lights, and her.

My footsteps echoed against the marble as I entered the guest room and locked myself in the bathroom. I leaned over the sink, hands gripping its edge, trying to steady the storm inside me.

I looked up.

The mirror reflected a version of me I barely recognized — chest rising and falling erratically, eyes wild, breath short, and heart pounding like a warning drum.

What the hell is wrong with you, Inayat?

This isn't you.

"Stop it," I whispered, glaring at my own reflection. "You're not this weak. You're not some... psycho, obsessing over a touch and a smile. Shivansh isn't like that. You know he's not. Breathe. Focus."

I This isn't about Shivansh and that bitch.

This is about Uncle. And the deal. Nothing else.

Just then, I heard the soft click of the door.

I stilled.

Through the mirror, I saw him.

Shivansh.

Leaning against the doorframe, his brows knitted with worry. His voice, low and soothing, cut through the chaos in my chest.

"Baby?" he said, stepping in. "Are you okay?"

I turned away quickly, brushing a hand through my hair, trying to gather whatever composure I had left.

"Shivansh... I don't want to talk right now," I muttered, not facing him.

But he didn't listen. He came closer. Silent steps, careful gaze.

His hand found my wrist, firm but gentle, turning me to face him.

"Ina," he said, voice tighter this time. "What is it?"

I looked up at him. Those damn eyes. That concern. It almost cracked me.

"I don't want any drama," I said, my voice low, clipped. "That's it."

A pause.

His thumb brushed against my wrist as if trying to soothe more than skin — to reach what I was hiding.

"Is it about Shambhavi?" he asked, barely a whisper.

I didn't respond. I couldn't. My silence said more than my words ever could.

He cupped my face with both hands, his thumbs gently stroking my cheeks, and just like that, my breath, which had been running wild, started to slow down.

I leaned into his touch, my eyes fluttering shut, as if his palms alone could silence the chaos inside me.

His warmth, his scent, the steadiness of his presence... it grounded me.

"Baby, don't overthink. I'm going nowhere. I'm yours, and only yours, hm!??" he whispered, and his words... God, his words, melted something in me.

I nodded in his touch, quietly, as if any louder response would shatter this fragile peace.

He pulled me close into a tight embrace, strong arms around me like a fortress. Then came that kiss, a slow, assuring press of his lips to my forehead, and it lingered, speaking things his mouth hadn't said yet.

I looked up, only to find his eyes already locked onto mine. That stare. That intense, unreadable gaze that looked like it could strip me bare from the inside out.

Without breaking eye contact, he slid his hands down to my waist and effortlessly lifted me, placing me onto the cold counter behind.

"Ansh??" I breathed, the tremor in my voice betraying everything I was feeling.

"Shh..." he leaned in, his breath teasing my ear. "Let me worship my goddess... remind her I'm only her devotee."

A shiver ran down my spine at the way his voice dipped into that sinful register.

I gulped, "But...."

And in the next second, his lips crashed onto mine. Fierce, hungry, claiming, all at once.

I didn't argue further. I didn't resist. I couldn't. Because more than anything, I wanted him to show me... tell me... that he was mine. That he chose me.

My arms locked around his shoulders, fingers gripping his hair, anchoring myself as his mouth devoured mine. Every kiss was punishment and reassurance — desperate, demanding, like he needed to mark me all over again. His body pressed into mine, hard and unrelenting.

One hand slid beneath the draped folds of my saree, curling it up around my waist until the cool air kissed the skin of my thighs, now completely accessible to him. I gasped softly as he parted my legs and stepped between them, letting my thighs wrap around his waist, drawing him in.

He groaned when he felt I wasn't wearing anything underneath.

His hand grazed along my inner thigh, slow and teasing, while his chest rubbed against mine. My blouse was showing off my curves perfectly, and his hard chest rubbing over them made it more hot.

The heat — it was unbearable.

Unbearable in the most wicked, delicious way.

I pulled away, breathless. My lips were swollen, needy, tingling with the taste of him, chest heaving.

His lips chased mine, but I pulled back again, teasing him with a breathless smirk.

He growled low, feral, then grabbed the nape of my neck and yanked me back, slamming his mouth onto mine with a desperation that screamed possession — rougher, raw, utterly desperate.

His grip on my waist was bruising as he dragged me closer — closer until the edge of the counter met my thighs and our bodies aligned perfectly, skin to skin, breath to breath.

"You don't get to pull away, Ina," he growled against my lips, voice wrecked with desire and need. "Not when I'm busy proving I belong to you."

And God... when those words landed — low and rough against my mouth — I was gone.

Completely.

And this time, I didn't pull away.

I pushed Shivansh back slightly, trying to catch my breath. But he didn't stop. His lips still moved over mine with that same maddening hunger. So between kisses, I tried to reason with him—tried to remind him of reality.

"Shivansh... uncle told us to look after guests... let's do that... we'll continue it later," I whispered, my voice shaky, barely escaping my lips.

He groaned into my mouth, ignoring every word, too consumed. His lips were trailing down my jaw now, warm and firm. I pushed him gently again, and this time, with a frustrated sigh, he finally backed off , the sound escaping him like I'd snatched his oxygen away.

I slid off the counter, adjusting the folds, fixing the pleats of my saree. My pallu was still pinned securely, but the rest needed fixing. I was flustered, my hands trembling slightly as I tried to regain some composure.

Before I could fully gather myself, I felt his presence behind me.

Shivansh pressed into me from behind, his chest hot against my back. His arms snaked around my waist as he whispered, lips brushing against my neck voice dripping sin,

"I can't keep my hands off you..."

Before I could react, he kissed the crook of my neck, slow, open-mouthed, sucking softly. I whimpered. He moved my hair to one side, exposing more of my back, and his lips began trailing down, kisses, licks, little bites that made my knees weak.

His hands slid up, bold and hungry, cupping my breasts from behind. "Fuck," he growled against my skin. Cupping, kneading, teasing through the blouse, his touch firm and possessive. My head lolled back against his shoulder, a moan slipping past my lips.

He rolled his thumbs over my hardened nipples through the fabric, teasing, pinching just enough to make me arch.

"Wearing nothing under that saree... hmm?" he rasped, voice low, primal. "You want me to go insane, don't you?"

His hips pushed into me, I could feel his bulk, so hard. "You feel that?" he whispered against my ear, grinding slowly. "That's what you do to me. Just by breathing, Ina. Imagine what'll happen when I finally taste you tonight."

My breath caught. I was melting. Completely at his mercy. He kissed my shoulder, then dragged his lips back to my ear. "I wanna rip this blouse off, make you moan so loud."

My hand flew to his, heart racing, trying to stop him, but not really. Not yet.

He was whispering things I couldn't even process anymore — his lips never leaving my skin, his voice thick with desire as his fingers played with me like he knew exactly what drove me insane.

I was melting. God, I was already halfway gone. But I forced myself to grip his wrists gently, grounding myself, heart pounding.

"Shivansh..." I whispered breathlessly, turning slightly in his arms, my body betraying me.

He chuckled darkly, his voice wrecked with need, "Don't test me, Ina. One more second and I'll have you bent over this counter."

That was when I finally, reluctantly, turned in his arms and placed a firm hand on his chest. "Not now..." I said, cheeks flushed, lips trembling.

He stared at me, eyes feral, jaw clenched. His thumb grazed over my lower lip. He smirked, stepping back — but not before giving one final kiss to my neck, slow and deliberate.

"Later," he whispered, "you're not escaping tonight."

And with that, he fixed his hair and walked off — leaving me breathless, aching, and soaked in every sense of the word.

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AUTHOR'S POV :-

Shivansh descended the staircase, his brows furrowed, thoughts consumed by Inayat and the silent war brewing between her and Shambhavi.

I'll make sure she doesn't get stressed about this again, he promised himself, jaw tightening.

But as he turned towards the yard to rejoin his father, his steps halted — breath hitching in his throat.

Under the dim space beneath the staircase, he saw Aryan — leaning in to kiss Ahana.

Shivansh's chest clenched. His eyes darkened instantly.

Ahana, noticing Shivansh's presence, jerked back in panic, her face flushing red with embarrassment. Without a word, she turned and fled the scene, leaving Aryan standing there — caught, unbothered, and glaring.

The way Aryan looked at Shivansh — if looks could kill, Shivansh would've dropped dead on the spot.

"Teri problem kya hai, Shivansh?!" Aryan snapped, storming toward him, voice sharp and unfiltered.

"Tu. Tu hai meri problem," Shivansh fired back, stepping forward, matching his rage. "Meri behen ko shaadi se pehle touch bhi mat karna. Samjha?!"

Aryan let out a sarcastic chuckle, shaking his head. Poor Shivansh — completely unaware that the two were already married.

Swallowing his urge to confess it all, Aryan took a breath, trying to keep a straight face.

"Aur tu abhi upar jo karke aaya hai, Uska kya? haan?" Aryan shot back with a smirk.

Shivansh blinked, caught off-guard. "Kya kiya maine?" he asked, clearly defensive.

Without a word, Aryan pulled his phone out of his pocket, eyes glinting with mischief. He grabbed Shivansh by the collar, clicked a picture — and turned the screen around.

A lipstick stain. Bright. Obvious. Right on Shivansh's neck.

Shivansh's eyes widened as he instantly slapped his palm over the mark, trying to rub it away with his hand, face burning.

Aryan leaned closer, voice laced with mockery.

"Yeh jo pravachan tu mujhe abhi chod-I mean de raha tha... why don't you act on it first, saint Shivansh?"

Shivansh glared, fuming, jaw clenched so tight it could crack bone.

But Aryan didn't stop. He smirked darkly, voice dipping into something far filthier.

"Shaadi ho jaane de, phir dekhta hoon teri behen kaise chalke tere paas aati hai. Main usse bed se utarne layak bhi nahi chhodunga."

"Madar—" Shivansh snarled, fists clenched, ready to punch—

But Aryan, laughing wickedly, took off before the punch could land.

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ADVAY'S POV:

"Toh fir retire hone ka kab iraada hai, Kapoor?" Roy asked with a smug smile, raising his glass of champagne as if he owned the night.

Bade Papa chuckled lightly, swirling the drink in his hand. "Soon, Roy. Waise, achha hua yaad dila diya—next Sunday I'm hosting a celebration party. You'll get the official invite tomorrow, but since you're here, I wanted to extend a personal welcome."

A celebration party.

Well... more like a public announcement.

The moment he introduces me as the new CEO of ......... in front of the media, VVIPs, and the country's biggest business tycoons.

My heartbeat picked up.

Am I ready for this?

I'm not sure. But this? This is huge. I'm nervous. Really nervous.

"Celebration party?" Roy echoed, tilting his head like he already smelled something controversial.

"Yeah," Bade Papa said, glancing at me with a proud smile. "I'm officially handing over my company to my son—Advay."

My breath hitched.

Son.

That word.

Coming from him.

For the first time.

And the way he said it—with pride, with acceptance.

I blinked, overwhelmed. My chest tightened in a way I couldn't describe. I've waited for this—for years. And now that it's here, it doesn't feel real.

But Roy—of course—had to ruin the moment.

"And what about Shivansh? Your real son?" he asked, voice dripping with fake concern and underlying arrogance.

I froze. The words hit harder than I expected.

But Bade Papa didn't flinch. Instead, his hand gripped my shoulder more firmly.

"Advay is also my son," he said, voice calm but cold. "And as for Shivansh, he doesn't need my company. He's already built a global empire THE SHIVAY ENTERPRISES on his own—from scratch."

The warning in his tone was loud and clear. Another word from Roy, and things would get ugly.

"Excuse me," I mumbled, needing air... needing space.

I slipped away, heart still racing. Not from hurt—but from everything. The moment. The acceptance. The pressure.

And then I saw her—Rhea—standing with the twins, laughing as she helped them with sparklers.

For a second, everything inside me calmed. Her smile had that effect. Always.

I didn't say anything. I just watched her.

I want to hug her.

I want to tell her everything.

How tonight felt like the beginning of a new life. How scared and happy I am all at once.

An idea struck me—maybe a little mischievous, but sweet.

I walked over, pretending to help the twins light another sparkler.

And when she wasn't looking, I subtly stepped on the edge of her saree pleats, loosening them just enough to make them slip.

Her hands shot down to catch them, eyes widening in panic.

"I will be back twins, be careful till than okay?? No badmashi," she ordered them, turning to head inside quickly.

I smirked to myself.

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ADVAY'S POV

I waited two minutes.

Just enough time for her to settle in. Maybe halfway through fixing her saree, maybe already cursing me under her breath — either way, she'd be alone and frustrated.

I walked toward her room, careful with each step, glancing over my shoulder to make sure no one was watching. The corridor was empty. Quiet.

Perfect.

Her door was slightly ajar. I slipped inside — softly, silently.

Then I locked it behind me.

"Fucking hell!" Her voice cracked the silence like a slap. "It took me two goddamn hours to wear this saree — not even by me, Inayat helped, and now I can't even call her because she's busy with that smug, grinning jerk! Ugh!"

She stood facing the mirror, completely unaware of me. Her pleats were a mess, pallu trailing on the floor, hair wild and loose. She was fuming. Flustered. Furious.

And yet... she looked stunning.

Her front was nearly bare, the backless blouse untied, dori hanging down, fabric slipping off one shoulder as she struggled with the pleats again.

I couldn't help it.

"Woah, woah. Easy there, wildcat."

She spun toward me, breath caught in her throat, eyes flaring. "Shut up! Don't you dare speak. Can't you fucking see how I'm struggling?!"

Her voice was sharp — nearly shaking with rage.

I raised my hands in mock surrender. "Just saying. You look like you're about to kill someone. And I'd really hate to die before I finish what I started."

Her glare could've scorched the floor beneath us.

But she didn't stop me when I stepped closer.

I could see it — the way her chest rose and fell faster now. The tremble in her fingers as she tried, once more, to tame the chaos at her waist.

"You ruined it," she snapped.

"Then let me fix it."

I knelt down before her, eyes locked on the mess of fabric around her waist.

"Instruct me," I murmured, voice low, thick with something unspoken. "Tell me what to do."

She let out a soft scoff and raised her brows. "Look at that," she said with a teasing smirk. "I made the future CEO of Kapoor Industries THE ADVAY KAPOOR, do this." Her voice dripped with mischief.

I smiled, lips tilting. The Advay Kapoor, on his knees — for her. Not in some grand romantic gesture... but fixing her saree.

Well, baby girl, if only you knew what else Advay Kapoor can do for you... or to you.

I didn't say that part out loud — just tasted it on the tip of my tongue.

She bent slightly, closing the distance between us. Her fingers curled under my chin, thumb and forefinger lifting my face so I had no choice but to look directly at her.

And with that bend, her blouse dipped — her cleavage unapologetically on show. Fuck. It was like a slow-motion slap to my sanity. She knew exactly what she was doing.

My gaze flicked down before I could stop it — a reflex I didn't even bother to hide.

And she saw.

Of course, she saw.

Her lips curled into that maddening smirk — the one that screamed she had power over me and knew exactly how to wield it. She leaned back, slow and unbothered, straightening like the queen she was.

Then — with one perfectly arched brow and a subtle tilt of her chin — she gave me the silent command: Get to work.

No words. Just a look.

God. That expression. She knew exactly what she was doing.

My hands were still resting lightly on her waist — just barely there — but fuck, they were begging to slip under the edge of her blouse and feel what that delicate fabric barely dared to hide.

"Fix the pleats," she said, her voice steady, but there was an underlying edge of command in it.

I knelt down, fixing the pleats one by one from the bottom edge. She stood still, holding the fabric above her waist, watching every move I made.

Once I was done, I looked up. "Tuck it now."

She did — smooth, effortless. Her fingers worked fast, securing the pleats with pin.

I grabbed her waist — not accidentally, not gently. It was intentional.

She paused.

She didn't pull away. Didn't protest. But I felt it — the shift in her body. A small stutter in her movement.

I used that hold on her waist to push myself up from kneeling. Slow. Controlled. My grip firm as I rose, keeping close, not letting go.

By the time I was standing, we were too close. Our bodies nearly touching, breath mingling in the air between us.

My grip tightened around her waist, fingers digging in just enough to make her flinch. I leaned in, inhaling her scent — sweet, vulnerable, already losing control. Her breath hitched, eyes heavy with a mix of want.

I didn't let go. My left hand held her firmly, thumb pressing into her hip bone as I bent down to grab the fallen pallu.

She watched me, chest rising and falling, her impatience raw and visible in the way her lips parted — like she was silently begging me to hurry up, or slow down. I hadn't decided yet.

I dragged the pallu across her chest, slow and intentional. As the fabric slid over her skin, my knuckles brushed the swell of her breast — then lower, right over her nipple. I felt the stiff peak through the thin blouse. I didn't pull back.

I pressed in harder, fingers grazing again before flattening my palm over her breast. I squeezed — rough, slow — letting her feel every inch of it, pretending I was still just adjusting the drape.

Her head fell back, lips parted, a soft, broken gasp slipping out.

"You feel that?" I muttered into her neck, voice dark and low. "You're aching. Right here." My thumb rolled over her nipple again, dragging slow circles through the fabric.

"And you're letting me do it. No hesitation."

Her breath hitched — sharp, needy. Eyes closed, lashes fluttering, her body trembling under my hand like she was one second from melting. Or breaking.

"Keep them shut," I growled, pinching her lightly this time. "You don't get to watch. You just feel."

She whimpered — not in pain, but from the way I owned every inch of her without even taking anything off. Yet.

I pulled the pallu over her shoulder, let it fall to the floor. Before I moved, I pressed my mouth to her bare skin — a rough, fast kiss on her shoulder. She tensed, and I felt the shiver run through her.

Then I stepped behind her.

My chest hit her back, hard and warm. She felt everything. I slid both hands up her arms, gripping her shoulders tight. Her blouse was already slipping, the dori loose, only one thin hook keeping it together.

I dropped my mouth to the back of her neck and dragged kisses downward — wet, open, slow. She tilted her head without a word.

Good girl.

Her blouse hung wide open, backless — skin bare, exposed. Just that one hook. Just her back, mine for the taking. I kissed down the curve of her spine, slow and deep, tasting her, dragging my teeth just enough to leave a mark.

Her breathing changed — uneven, shaky. She didn't speak. But her silence screamed yes.

"You left this open for me?" I muttered into her skin. "One hook keeping you together. One pull and you'll be naked. Standing there just to tempt me?"

I shoved my hips into her from behind, grinding slow. Letting her feel what she was doing to me.

"Feel that, baby?" I whispered. "That's what you do to me."

My fingers slid to her sides, then up — grabbing her breast again. The pallu was already on the floor. No more barriers.

I didn't unclasp the blouse yet. I wanted her to feel the wait. Her chest was rising too fast, breath shallow like she couldn't get enough air.

"You want me to take it off?"

Still no answer.

So I squeezed her right breast — harder this time. She moaned, quiet and cracked.

"Ahh, Adv—"

I kissed the shell of her ear, slow and taunting.

"I asked you something, baby."

"I—" She barely got the word out before I backed away, letting the heat of my body vanish. Letting her feel the sudden, sharp emptiness of my touch.

And she whimpered — because she already missed it.

I chuckled at my teasing victory, eyes locked on her trembling frame.

"Too late, baby," I whispered darkly, backing off just enough to let the cold hit her skin where my hands had been.

But in the very next second, my wildcat snapped.

She grabbed me by the collar and yanked me forward, hard.

"Now you can't escape," she growled, breath hot, eyes blazing — and before I could reply, her mouth crashed into mine.

That was what I'd been waiting for. Starving for. The velvet slide of her lips, the taste of her — wild and desperate.

She stood on her toes, kissing me like she needed it to survive. No hesitation now — just heat, hunger, fire.

I growled low, cupped her face in both hands, and took control.

She wanted wild? She got it.

I matched her pace for a second — then took over. My tongue forced her mouth open wider, deeper, claiming her the way she begged to be claimed.

Her fingers twisted in my shirt like she couldn't get enough, and I pushed her back until she hit the wall, Her back hit the wall with a soft thud, But she didn't flinch, she pulled me closer.

Chest heaving, lips red and swollen.

My hands dropped from her face to her waist, fingers digging into the exposed skin where the blouse had loosened. I kissed her again — rougher this time, taking more than she gave. Her moan vibrated against my mouth.

"You really thought you could take control, didn't you?" I murmured against her lips, dragging my hand up her side. She gasped when my fingers slid under the fabric of her blouse and found her breast again — bare now, hot and soft in my palm.

No bra. Just skin. Just me.

squeezed slow, letting my thumb circle her nipple until it peaked against my touch. Her breath stuttered.

"You feel that?" I whispered, mouth moving down to her neck. I bit lightly, just enough to make her twitch, then licked over it to soothe the sting. "This is what happens when you tempt me."

She was panting, nails digging into my shoulders, blouse barely hanging on by that one hook. I unclasped it with a flick of my fingers, and it slipped open, finally freeing her completely.

She didn't hide. Didn't flinch.

My eyes dropped to her chest — god, perfect — before I bent down and kissed along her collarbone, then lower, trailing to her breast. I took my time, tasting, sucking, letting my tongue flick her nipple before pulling it into my mouth.

She gasped, loud this time, arching into me.

"You like being touched here, don't you?" I muttered against her skin. "So sensitive. So fucking responsive."

I palmed her other breast, squeezing rougher now. Her legs were shaking.

"Spread them," I ordered, voice low and firm.

And she obeyed.

Her breath was hot against my neck, chest rising hard against mine, bare breasts brushing as she squirmed under my grip. I kept her pinned to the wall, one hand firm on her waist, the other sliding up to cup her breast again — skin to skin this time.

"You're dripping, aren't you?" I growled into her ear. "And I haven't even touched you there yet."

A soft, shaky "mmh..." escaped her — breathy and broken, like she didn't mean to let it out.

I smirked.

Then I bent and slipped one arm behind her back, the other under her thighs, and lifted her into my arms — bridal style, but nothing sweet about it. Her arms clutched around my neck like she didn't trust her body not to fall apart already.

I carried her to the bed, didn't slow down, didn't give her time to think. Her bare chest pressed into me, and I could feel every tremble through her skin.

The second her back hit the mattress, I was on her — hovering above, eyes burning as I took her in.

Blouse gone. Saree still wrapped around her waist, tucked low. Hair messy, lips bruised, chest rising like she couldn't keep up with her own breath.

Mine.

I shoved the saree up her thighs — not off — just enough to expose her legs, enough to make her spread for me. The fabric gathered around her hips, framing her body like a damn gift I was about to unwrap — slowly.

I dropped my head to her chest, lips finding her nipple, and sucked hard.

"Ahh—Advay..." she gasped, hips jolting beneath me.

"There she is," I murmured against her skin, tongue circling before sucking again. "Fucking helpless when I touch you here."

"Mmhh..." another moan slipped out of her, this one softer, but needier.

My hand slid between her thighs, knuckles brushing the soaked fabric at her center. She tensed, a small, shaky "ah..." falling from her lips as my fingers pressed harder — not inside, just enough to tease.

"You want more?"

She nodded, breath catching. But that wasn't enough.

"Say it," I whispered darkly, fingers sliding along her slit through the thin cloth. "Let me hear you beg."

"Ahhh... please..." she moaned, voice trembling, thighs tightening around my wrist.

Her body was burning up, arching into my touch, trying so hard not to completely fall apart. I could feel her losing it — second by second.

And I hadn't even given her everything.

Yet.

Her moans were getting louder now — raw, uncontrollable. My fingers pressed harder against her center, teasing her clit over the soaked fabric.

She arched, legs trembling. "Mmh—Advay... please..." she gasped, voice ragged, breath catching like she couldn't take one more second.

"You're so close, aren't you?" I whispered darkly, lips brushing her jaw as I kissed her between every word. "So. Fucking. Close."

My hand slipped lower, fingers tracing the edge of her thong. She whimpered, biting her lip as I tugged — slow, deliberate. I leaned in again, kissed her deep. Tongues met, lips clashing — hungry.

And just when I was about to slide it down—

"Everyone come to the living room! Right now!"

Shivansh bhai's voice boomed through the house.

We froze.

My lips still pressed to hers.

My hand still wrapped around the edge of her thong.

Her chest rising like she was about to scream.

I pulled back first. Slowly. Our foreheads touched. Her eyes fluttered open — full of fire.

She growled. "I swear, Advay. Your fucking brother—"

I shot her a warning glare before she could finish that sentence.

Her eyes narrowed.

"Oh yeah, I'm so sorry," she snapped, voice dripping with sarcasm. She sat up halfway, palms pressed together dramatically. "Laxman ji, for daring to say anything about your Ram jaisa bhai."

Her teeth clenched, jaw tight, nostrils flared. She looked like she was ready to throw something — or bite me.

And I couldn't stop myself.

I burst out laughing.

"You're insane," I said, grinning.

She scowled, but I leaned down again and gave her a sharp, teasing suck to her breast, then kissed it softly after, tongue flicking lazily over her hardened nipple.

She gasped — betrayed by her own body, again.

I kissed her lips one last time — deep, slow, possessive. "I'm not done with you," I whispered. "This isn't over."

Then I reached over to grab her blouse, helped her slip it back on, fingers brushing her skin deliberately as I hooked it back into place. Her glare hadn't softened.

If anything, she looked even more dangerous now — saree getting retucked around her waist with quick, angry movements.

I smirked, running my thumb along her jaw as I fixed a strand of her messy hair.

"Make me finish what I started. After this. In my room. Door locked."

Her lips parted, breath catching again.

She didn't answer — but the way her eyes flickered said everything.

I slipped out of the room first, making sure no one saw me, and told Rhea to wait a few seconds before following.

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Hey my lovely people! I'm really, really sorry for keeping you all waiting for so long. After joining college, life got a little crazy and it honestly took me a while to adjust. I didn't even get the time to sit down and write like before.

And to top it off, the one who usually helps me was super busy with her 12th board exams and NEET prep. That's why we couldn't give you any updates, and I feel so bad about it.

I truly hope you guys will forgive me for this long wait.

Also, one small request — if any of you are doing MBBS, please, please drop a comment. I really need your help and guidance right now.

Thank you so much for your love, patience, and for sticking around. I promise to make it up to you with the story. Love you all!"

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