The chamber was cloaked in shadows, pierced only by the silver kiss of moonlight filtering through carved jharokhas. The air was thick with heat and tension, the kind that vibrated between two bodies caught between war and want.
Ruhanika lay beneath him, the silk robe fallen open around her like petals, her dark hair spilling across the plush sheets. Rudra hovered above her, his chest bare, the cords of muscle shifting as he supported himself on one forearm. His other hand skimmed her body—testing, teasing, claiming.
"You’re trembling," he murmured, voice rough velvet.
“I’m not afraid,” she said, trying to keep the quake from her voice.
His thumb brushed the corner of her mouth. “You should be.”
Then, ever so slowly, he dipped his head and kissed her—not roughly this time, but deep. Purposeful. His tongue slid past her lips, coaxing hers into a dance that made her toes curl. She tasted his hunger. His restraint. The need that burned just beneath the surface.
When he pulled back, his mouth was wet, his eyes darker than shadows. His gaze dropped to her chest—bare, rising and falling quickly. Without breaking eye contact, he cupped one breast in his calloused palm, his thumb brushing the peak into a taut point.
Ruhanika gasped.
“You look like a goddess laid bare for her most devout worshipper,” he said, lowering his head.
Then his mouth closed over her nipple.
A moan escaped her lips before she could stop it. His tongue flicked and swirled, suckling gently, then harder, until her back arched off the bed. He gave her the same attention on the other side—his hand massaging one breast as his mouth worshipped the other. It was maddening, the way he took his time, devouring her like a feast he’d long waited for.
“Rudra…” she whispered, barely aware she’d said his name.
He growled low against her skin, the vibration shooting straight to her core.
Then, without a word, he kissed a slow trail down her belly, dipping his tongue into the hollow just above her navel. Ruhanika’s legs shifted restlessly, instinctively. But he caught them—firm hands gripping her thighs and spreading them wide.
“I want to hear you beg,” he said, voice hoarse with hunger.
“I won’t,” she managed, defiant even now.
His smirk was sinful. “Then I’ll make you.”
And he did.
He kissed her inner thigh, then the other, maddeningly close but never quite there. His breath fanned over her slick folds before his tongue finally, finally made contact.
Ruhanika cried out.
He licked her slowly at first, savoring her taste like fine wine. Then his tongue circled her clit, again and again, until her hips bucked against him. He held her down, using his mouth like a weapon—relentless, consuming. He flicked, sucked, plunged—driving her higher, faster.
She was unraveling. Her fingers fisted in his hair, dragging him closer, needing more.
"Say it," he murmured against her. "Say you want this."
“I hate you,” she gasped.
But her body betrayed her, legs trembling, breath ragged.
He pushed a finger inside her, slow and deliberate, while his tongue continued its wicked rhythm. Her cries rose into the air, helpless, wild.
And then—release.
It tore through her like lightning, her back arching, thighs clenching around his head. Her cry echoed off the stone walls, ragged and raw.
Rudra didn’t let up—he licked her through it, only stopping when her body finally stilled beneath him. She lay trembling, dazed, chest heaving.
He moved up her body like a storm, covering her with his heat, pressing his forehead to hers.
“You’re dangerous,” she whispered.
“So are you,” he replied, his voice like gravel and honey.
Then he slid inside her—slowly.
There was no urgency now. Just heat. Depth. Connection neither of them wanted to admit. She gasped as he filled her, inch by inch, stretching her open, making her feel every moment of it.
He stayed still once he was buried deep, letting her adjust. Letting her feel it.
Then he moved—slow, deep strokes that made her feel every inch of him. He held her face as he thrust, lips brushing hers but not kissing. Their eyes locked. Breathing in unison. Moving together like waves.
It wasn’t a claiming. It wasn’t a conquest.
It was something else.
Something dangerous.
Ruhanika cupped his face, her thumb brushing over the scar on his jaw. She didn’t say anything. She didn’t need to.
His lips finally met hers again—slower now, softer.
When their bodies broke together once more, the silence that followed wasn’t empty. It was sacred.
He collapsed beside her, one arm draped over her waist, his breathing ragged.
“This changes nothing,” she said after a long silence.
Rudra’s chuckle rumbled against her skin.
“Oh, Rajkumari... it changes everything.”
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