Maine khud ko rokna chaha,

par tumhara asar hadd se zyada tha…

Yeh koi pyaar nahi tha,

yeh ek kashish thi—

jo todti bhi thi, aur jodti bhi.

Aur us lamhe mein samajh aaya—

main khud se nahi haari…

main tum mein

The moment I stepped inside, my breath hitched. My heart pounded wildly against my ribs. The room felt like a private universe—soft neon lights in deep crimson and violet tracing the walls, tiny starlights shimmering above like captured constellations. The large bed in the center was beautifully decorated, petals scattered across the sheets in silent invitation.

I placed the tray with the glass of milk on the side table. My anklets chimed softly as I moved. Warm boldness mixed with nervous anticipation coursed through me. He’s coming.

The soft click of the door made me turn.

Riddhimaan.

A single red rose tucked between his teeth, looking devastatingly handsome and dangerously seductive. His hair was damp, skin glowing under the colored lights. He wore only black pants that hung low on his hips. His hazel-blue eyes locked onto mine, dark with hunger, love, and raw possession.

I swallowed hard. He stepped closer. I instinctively moved back until my knees hit the edge of the bed.

He removed the rose from his mouth, his voice low and rough.

“You look breathtaking tonight, wife… but I need your permission for what comes next.”

My cheeks burned. I nodded shyly.

“You have it, Maan… I’m yours.”

With my consent, Riddhimaan unwrapped my saree and petticoat with deliberate care, then gently removed the rest until I lay completely bare before him. His gaze was reverent.

“So beautiful… every inch of you belongs to me tonight.”

He picked up the glass of milk and, with a wicked glint in his eyes, tilted it over my chest. Warm milk spilled slowly, soaking my skin and trailing down my body, leaving me glistening and sensitive.

He set the glass aside. He came toward my face, his hazel-blue eyes burning with love and hunger. My own eyes fluttered closed as his lips claimed mine in a deep, passionate kiss.

I kissed him back—dirty, messier, full of all the pent-up desire I had been holding inside. Our tongues tangled, lips sliding, sucking, biting—raw and desperate, like we were trying to merge our souls through this one kiss.

We lost ourselves in that kiss for long, heated moments, breathing each other in, tongues dancing sensually. When he finally pulled back, we were both breathless, chests heaving.

Riddhimaan didn’t stop. His lips moved to my jaw, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down to my neck. He sucked and nibbled, leaving possessive marks on my skin that made me shiver with need.

“Just wait a little bit, meri jaan,” he whispered, voice rough with restraint.

I frowned up at him, confused and impatient, but I stayed silent — trusting him completely. I try to catch my breaths.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a delicate gold bracelet adorned with tiny diamonds. My eyes widened in happy surprise, a soft gasp escaping my lips.

He smiled — that rare, beautiful smile reserved only for me — and gently lifted my hips. He wrapped the bracelet around my lower region, the cool metal and shining diamonds resting directly against my clit. The sensation was electric — cold, sparkling, intimate.

“Fuck…” he muttered to himself, voice dark with satisfaction. “Now it’s better.”

I felt so shy — my cheeks burning hot — but the way the diamonds pressed against my most sensitive spot made my thighs tremble.

Riddhimaan picked up the rose again. Never touching me directly with his hands below, he trailed the soft, velvety petals over my breasts and stomach, then lower. He focused the rose on my clit, using its gentle, maddening strokes against the diamond-studded bracelet. The combination of soft petals, cool sparkling metal, and his heated gaze sent waves of pleasure crashing through me.

While doing so, he leaned down and kept kissing my lips—deep, sensual kisses that stole my breath again and again. His mouth stayed on mine, tongues tangling sensually between my moans, as the rose worked relentlessly against the bracelet.

My hips bucked, thighs quivering as the pleasure coiled tighter and tighter.

“Maan… oh god…” I moaned into his mouth.

He didn’t stop the rose’s teasing circles and flicks, nor the deep kisses. The sensations built unbearably until the orgasm ripped through me—intense, shattering, beautiful. I cried out his name against his lips, body shaking as waves of pleasure consumed me.

Only then did he set the rose aside. He climbed over me, caging me with his powerful body.

“Now… we become one,” he murmured against my lips.

He stood up from the bed, his eyes never leaving mine. With deliberate movements, he pushed down his pants and boxers together, letting them fall to the floor.

My breath caught. And still flustered after the raw shock of waves orgasm.

My hottest husband stood before me completely naked — tall, powerful, every muscle sculpted like a god. His cock — thick, long, and rock-hard — stood proud, easily thirteen inches of intimidating beauty. The sight made my mouth water and my core clench with both nervousness and desperate need.

He crawled back over me, caging me with his body, the sheet still partially draped around us like a private world.

His hand slid between my thighs, fingers brushing the diamond bracelet against my clit. I gasped — the combination of cold diamonds and his warm touch making me jolt with pleasure.

“Beautiful,” he murmured, eyes dark with love and lust. “My wife… my everything.”

He kissed me again — deep, claiming — while his fingers played with the bracelet, pressing the diamonds rhythmically against my swollen clit.

I moaned into his mouth, hips bucking helplessly.

He broke the kiss and moved lower, sucking one nipple into his mouth while his fingers continued teasing me with the bracelet. The dual sensation — his hot mouth on my breast and the cool, sparkling pressure on my clit — drove me wild.

“Maan… please…” I whimpered, voice breaking with need.

He looked up at me, eyes glowing with intense love.

“Tell me what you want, meri jaan,” he whispered. “I want to hear you beg for it.”

I was trembling, aching, completely surrendered.

“Please… make love to me,” I begged, voice soft but desperate. “I need you inside me… please, Maan… I’m yours.”

He groaned — deep, primal — and positioned himself between my thighs.

The thick head of his cock pressed against my entrance, the diamond bracelet still teasing my clit.

“Relax for me, baby,” he murmured, kissing my forehead. “I’ll go slow… but I’m going to ruin you tonight. In every sense.”

He pushed in — slow, deep, stretching me inch by thick inch until he was buried to the hilt.

I cried out as a sharp shock of pain hit me. He stopped immediately, his body going completely still. He leaned down and kissed my neck and earlobe tenderly.

“I’m sorry sweetheart for the pain. Let me take out. I can’t see you in pain,” he whispered, voice full of concern.

I shook my head quickly.

“No, no… it will fade away. Just stay still.”

He looked at me, eyes filled with worry.

“Are you sure?”

I nodded, voice trembling.

“Yep.”

He hummed in response, staying buried deep inside me. His hand gently stroked my inner thigh and lower stomach in slow, soothing motions, helping my muscles relax around his thick length. The pain gradually eased, replaced by a deep, full pleasure.

Then he started moving. The moment my husband rolled his hips, I swear I felt like losing myself on him. Every time he pushed his cock deeper and harder inside me, dragging against my inner muscles, a chill ran down my spine. He dragged his cock slowly and controlled, as if he was savoring every moment and every sensation. A moan escaped from my mouth, “Maan.” My hands flew to hold onto his forearm. He came closer until there was no gap between us. Our breaths mingled with each other. My eyes locked onto his blue ones and I was completely drawn to him and this feeling.

He groaned and said, “Fuck baby, you're so tight and perfect. Feel me… how I fill you.”

I hummed in response. He demanded softly, “Words, baby. I need words from that pretty mouth of yours.”

I choked out as he fastened his hips, his cock dragging faster against my inner muscles, “Yes! Yes! Hubby.”

He praised, “Good girl.”

He put my legs on his shoulder and went even deeper. I screamed out, “AH! MAAN!” My eyes closed and opened again to look at him somehow. Sweat beads formed on his forehead, small strands of hair falling onto it, making him look devastating like a Greek God. My husband looked deliciously handsome.

He said again, “That’s it baby, scream as much as you want. The room is soundproof. But don’t stop your screaming.”

I nodded my head quickly. I was nothing but a beautiful moaning mess for him. I clenched around his cock as he fastened his hips. I was already lost in my husband, the way his cock dragged faster against my inner muscles, gripping him tightly. His guttural groans and my screams filled the room. He lowered his head and sucked both my breasts simultaneously, taking my entire areola and nipple buds into his mouth. His tongue moved mercilessly fast on my nipples and I clenched around his cock, getting even wetter. His mouth on my breasts and his cock deep inside me felt like heaven. His own body broke into goosebumps as I clenched around him. My legs shook uncontrollably around his waist. I felt like I would shatter around him soon. My body heated up more, my heart pounding like it would burst. My tummy tightened like it would explode.

Riddhimaan knew it instantly. He snapped his hips faster. Soon I shattered around him in a broken scream, “AHH, MAAN!!” My legs tightened around his waist. A minute later, he followed me, groaning my name as he filled me with his release, hips stuttering deep inside me.

We collapsed together—spent, trembling, wrapped in each other’s arms.

He kissed my forehead, my cheeks, my lips—soft, loving kisses that spoke louder than words.

“You are my world, Krishti,” he whispered, voice full of emotion. “My wife… my soul… my forever.”

I smiled through happy tears, curling into his chest.

“And you are mine, Maan. My husband… my everything.”

I could hear his heartbeat — steady, strong, lulling me like a lullaby meant only for me. He slowly pulled out of me with utmost care. Then he walked to the bathroom and returned with a bowl of warm water and a fresh towel. He came back to the bed, gently cleaned me up—everywhere, especially down there. I felt so shy again that I buried my face in the pillow like a puppy. I heard his soft chuckle, and though there was still a slight sting, he cleaned me with such gentle, loving hands that the discomfort eased. He fixed everything with tender care and stayed close.

After everything was fixed, he came back to the bed and pulled the sheet around us, wrapping us in its warmth. I lay my head on his chest and listened to the steady sound of his heartbeat. I closed my eyes for a moment, savoring it, while he stroked my back with smooth, soothing circles.

I heard his soft voice, “I love you, baby.”

He kissed my hairline and inhaled my scent. I whispered back, “I love you more, Maan.”

He tightened his arms around me.

Then he said, “I hadn’t checked my name in your mehndi yet.”

Shit. I completely forgot about it. How could I be so clueless?

I shifted on the bed and put both my hands in his. Softly, I said, “Here you go.”

A smile crept onto his face as he scanned the design with his index finger in that analytical way of his. Of course — my husband is a mafia king. He notices everything. The way his fingers brushed over the henna made me crave him all over again.

He said, “Found it!”

I asked curiously, “Really?”

He hummed in response and showed me. There, on my ring finger, in small elegant letters hidden within a floral design — Maan. He kissed my cheek and said, “Thank you for giving me everything, darling. You own a part of this ruthless heart of mine.”

I shook my head and replied, “No, you’re the one who gave me everything. And don’t call yourself ruthless. You’re my husband… my sweet husband.”

He looked at me with soft eyes. “Mere liye itna pyar?”

I smiled and whispered, “Bahut zyada.”

We stared at each other with raw intensity. I couldn’t look away from his hazel-blue eyes — they made my heart flutter wildly. He gulp his throat and bite slightly on his lower lip. He pulled me closer until our bodies molded perfectly together. Then he lifted his head and kissed me deeply on the lips.

My eyes closed as I kissed him back. I parted my lips, letting him in. Our tongues danced together as he kissed me so deeply that my knees weakened. His hands squeezed my buttocks cheeks possessively. I whimpered into his mouth.

We broke the kiss, both of us breathing heavily. He groaned and commanded in a low, dark voice,

“Face down and ass up for me.”

My core throbbed instantly at his words. I obeyed without hesitation. I lay on my stomach, face pressed into the pillow, and raised my ass up for him. My heart was beating fast, a mix of nervousness running through me.

I felt his hot breath against my pussy and asshole. Wait… is my husband into degradation? He kept giving me surprise after surprise tonight. I gulped, my throat dry with anticipation. His hot breath fanned over my exposed pussy and asshole, making me shiver. I felt so vulnerable like this — face down, ass up high for him, completely open.

Then I felt it.

His tongue.

He licked a slow, broad stripe from my clit all the way up to my asshole. A broken moan tore out of me into the pillow. He didn’t stop. He licked me again, slower this time, savoring me like I was his favorite meal. His tongue circled my clit, then moved back to my tight hole, teasing it with wet, filthy strokes.

“Fuck… Maan…” I whimpered, pushing back against his face instinctively.

He groaned against me, the vibration shooting straight to my core. “Such a good girl… presenting this pretty pussy and ass to me so nicely.”

His hands gripped my ass cheeks, spreading them wider. He buried his face deeper, eating me like a man starved. His tongue pushed inside my pussy, fucking me with it, then moved back to my asshole, licking and sucking until I was shaking uncontrollably.

I was dripping. The sounds were so obscene — his groans, my wet pussy, my desperate moans. He was really degrading me tonight… and I was loving every second of it.

He pulled back slightly, his voice dark and rough.

“Look at you… dripping for your husband like a needy little girl. You like when I play with both your holes, don’t you?”

I could only moan in response, too lost in pleasure to form words.

He chuckled darkly and slapped my ass lightly, making me jolt. “Answer me, baby.”

“Y-Yes… I like it,” I gasped.

“Good girl.”

He dove back in, tongue and fingers working together now — one thick finger sliding into my pussy while his tongue teased my asshole. The dual sensation was too much. My legs started shaking violently.

“Maan… I’m going to cum… please…”

He didn’t stop. He fucked me faster with his finger and sucked on my clit until I shattered hard, screaming his name into the pillow as my orgasm crashed over me.

But he wasn’t done.

He kept licking me through it, gentler now, until I was a trembling, oversensitive mess.

Only then did he climb up my body, covering me completely. His hard cock pressed against my ass as he kissed the back of my neck.

“Ready for more, meri jaan?” he whispered hotly against my ear. I tried to catch my breath, my body still trembling from the aftershocks. Riddhimaan gently rubbed my back in slow, soothing circles, giving me time to come down. Why am I so lucky to have this man? He is always so patient, always waiting for me, always putting me first.

After a few minutes, the waves finally subsided. I turned around to face him. He immediately pulled me into his arms and kissed my forehead tenderly. I closed my eyes, savoring the softness of his lips.

He swooped me up in his strong embrace, carrying me like I weighed nothing. Before I could even process it, my back hit the cool wall. He pinned me there, my legs wrapped tightly around his waist.

His eyes were dark with hunger.

In one smooth thrust, he buried himself deep inside me. I gasped loudly, my nails digging into his shoulders. He didn’t start slow this time. He fucked me hard against the wall — deep, powerful strokes that made my breasts bounce with every thrust.

“Fuck… Maan!” I moaned, my head falling back against the wall.

He groaned, burying his face in my neck as he pounded into me. The sound of skin slapping skin filled the room. Every thrust was harder than the last, hitting that perfect spot inside me again and again.

“You feel so fucking good,” he growled against my ear, biting my neck. “So tight… so wet for me.”

My walls clenched around him. I was already close again. He shifted his angle, going even deeper, his hips snapping against mine mercilessly. One of his hands gripped my ass, the other held my thigh, keeping me spread open for him.

I screamed his name as another orgasm ripped through me. My pussy pulsed hard around his thick cock, soaking him.

He didn’t stop. He fucked me through it, faster, rougher, until his own release hit. With a deep, guttural groan, he buried himself to the hilt and came hard, filling me with hot spurts of his cum.

We stayed like that for a moment — pressed against the wall, breathing heavily, bodies slick with sweat.

He kissed me softly, almost reverently, and whispered against my lips,

“My perfect wife.”

After a while, he carried me back to the bed. He laid me down gently and pulled the sheet around us. He then went to the bathroom a another fresh towel with water on it. He cleaned me up with such tender care — especially between my legs — that I felt shy again and buried my face in the pillow. He chuckled softly and continued gently until I was clean and comfortable. After everything is done, he laid me down gently and pulled the sheet around us, wrapping us in warmth. I lay my head on his chest, listening to his steady heartbeat while he stroked my back with smooth, soothing circles.

Riddhimaan’s fingers stroked gently through my hair, slow and soothing, as sleep claimed him. I closed my eyes too, safe in his arms, wrapped in the warmth of his love and the quiet promise of our future.

.

.

Next Morning

My eyes fluttered open to the soft golden rays of sunlight filtering through the curtains. I didn’t know what time it was at first. I glanced at the nightstand clock — 6:00 a.m.

A soft yawn escaped me as I stretched lightly, my fingers tracing the faint red marks my nails had left on his broad back the night before. The sight thrilled me in a quiet, possessive way — my marks on my husband.

I traced them gently with my fingertips. He stirred in his sleep, a low hum vibrating in his chest, then turned toward me. His chest rose and fell with deep, even breaths. I admired him for a long moment — my strong, beautiful man — not wanting to disturb his peaceful sleep.

I slipped out of bed, completely naked. There was nothing on in the room except us. It felt… right. Natural. This was our space. Our marriage. I didn’t feel shy anymore. I was his, and he was mine.

My anklets chimed softly with every step. I took a deep breath and moved slowly toward the bathroom, closing the door gently behind me.

I sighed in relief as I handled my morning routine. After finishing, I stepped into the shower and turned on the water. Warm streams cascaded over my body. I immediately cleaned my intimate parts with the shower gel, washing away the remnants of last night with gentle care, then rinsed thoroughly.

The bathroom door opened.

Riddhimaan stepped in, completely naked, having already placed our clothes and the sheets in the laundry hamper. His presence filled the shower instantly — tall, powerful, radiating that quiet dominance mixed with deep love.

My heart raced again.

“Good morning,” I said softly, voice still a little shy.

He came closer, water droplets sliding down his sculpted chest. His morning voice was husky, rough, and incredibly sexy.

“Good morning, moya zvezdochka,” he whispered, eyes roaming over me with open admiration. “I was wondering if you could even walk today… but here you are.”

I blushed deeply at his words, a small smile tugging at my lips.

“You were gentle with me last night,” I murmured.

He stepped fully under the spray with me, his large hands gently cupping my waist.

“I was worried about you,” he said, voice sincere yet teasing. “Thankfully, I didn’t hurt you too much. Turn around and let me check on you.”

His words were playful, but there was a protective edge beneath the teasing. I hoped he wouldn’t start anything again… though a part of me secretly craved it.

I turned around slowly, facing the tiled wall. He dropped to his knees behind me, water cascading over both of us.

His hands gently parted my thighs. I felt his warm breath against my mound as he inspected me carefully. My hymen was already broken from last night, but I hadn’t felt much pain — only overwhelming pleasure and connection. I still didn’t fully understand why it hadn’t hurt more.

Riddhimaan’s fingers brushed lightly over my folds — not to arouse, but to check if I was sore. His touch was incredibly gentle, full of care and love.

“You’re a little swollen, baby,” he murmured, voice soft. “But a little torn. You took me so well… my strong, beautiful wife.”

He pressed a tender kiss to my lower back, then stood up, wrapping his arms around me from behind. His chin rested on my shoulder, water pouring over us like a blessing.

“I love you,” he whispered against my wet skin. “More than anything in this world. Last night… you gave me everything. I want to give you the world in return.”

I leaned back into his chest, heart full, feeling safe and cherished in his embrace.

“I love you too, Maan,” I whispered back. “With all my heart.”

He turned me in his arms, cupping my face gently, and kissed me — slow, deep, full of love and promise.

The kiss turned more passionate in an instant.

Riddhimaan’s mouth claimed mine with deeper hunger, his tongue sliding against mine in a slow, sensual dance. He sucked my tongue into his mouth — gentle yet possessive — drawing a helpless moan from me that he swallowed greedily.

His eyes were filled with addictive desire, dark and burning, as if he could never get enough of me.

He broke the kiss with a low groan, breathing heavily. Without a word, he dropped to his knees in front of me, water still cascading over us.

He guided me gently, making me sit on his face — my thighs straddling his head, the diamond bracelet still pressed against my clit.

The moment his tongue touched me, I cried out.

He licked my folds — slow, broad, worshipful strokes — tasting every inch of me. Then he sucked hard on my clit, the diamond chain adding an extra spark of cool pressure with every movement of his mouth.

I cried out badly — legs trembling violently around his head, thighs squeezing him as pleasure shot through me like lightning.

His both hands reached up simultaneously, cupping my breasts. His fingers tweaked my nipples softly — rolling, pinching with just the right pressure — knowing exactly how sensitive they had become after last night.

It made them itch with pleasure.

That unwanted sexual hormone rush — the same one that had made my breasts leak milk for him last night — surged again. My nipples throbbed under his touch, aching in the most delicious way.

“Maan… ahh…” I moaned, voice breaking, hips grinding instinctively against his mouth.

He groaned against my core — the vibration making me shake even harder. His tongue never stopped — flicking rapidly over my clit, then plunging inside me, drinking every drop of my arousal like it was the only thing keeping him alive.

His fingers continued playing with my nipples — soft, warm, teasing — knowing it drove me wild, knowing it made that sweet itch turn into overwhelming pleasure.

I was a trembling mess — legs quivering around his head, moans spilling freely now, no longer able to hold back.

He sucked harder on my clit — relentless, hungry — while his thumbs circled my nipples with perfect pressure.

The combination pushed me over the edge.

I came with a sharp cry — thighs clamping around his ears, body convulsing as waves of intense pleasure crashed through me. My sacred water flooded his mouth; he drank every drop greedily, licking me through the orgasm with slow, soothing strokes until I was whimpering, oversensitive, and completely spent.

Only then did he ease back, pressing soft kisses to my inner thighs before rising to his feet.

He pulled me into his arms under the spray, holding me close as I trembled against his chest.

“Fucking perfect,” he whispered against my wet hair, voice thick with love and satisfaction. “My girl.”

I clung to him — breathless, glowing, utterly his — feeling cherished and loved beyond words.

I bit my lip, feeling deliciously naughty for my husband.

My hand slid down his wet, sculpted body until I reached his hard length. He was already so thick and heavy in my palm. I wrapped my fingers around him — barely able to meet around his girth — and stroked him slowly from base to tip.

Riddhimaan grunted — a deep, sexy sound that vibrated through his chest and sent a shiver racing down my spine.

“Moya zvezdochka… stop it,” he warned, voice rough and strained. “I won’t be able to control myself… Ahhh, shit…”

I tilted my head, looking up at him with a teasing grin, my eyes sparkling with mischief and love.

“Nope,” I whispered softly, continuing to stroke him with slow, deliberate movements.

He moaned — low and guttural — his hips twitching into my hand despite his words.

“Such a wildcat,” he rasped, eyes dark with desire and affection.

I smiled wider, feeling bold and cherished at the same time. My thumb brushed over the sensitive head, spreading the bead of pre-cum that had leaked for me.

Riddhimaan’s breath hitched. His hand came up to cup my cheek, thumb stroking my lower lip.

“You’re going to be the death of me, meri jaan,” he murmured, voice thick with restraint and love.

But he didn’t stop me.

Instead, he leaned down and captured my lips in a deep, hungry kiss — swallowing my soft whimpers as I continued to stroke him under the warm spray of the shower.

His free hand slid down my body, fingers teasing my still-sensitive folds, making me moan into his mouth.

We were lost in each other — teasing, touching, loving — the water cascading over us like a private blessing on our first morning as husband and wife.

After we finished our deeds. Riddhimaan had a towel wrapped around his torso while I quickly wrapped my robe around myself, finally remembering what I had completely forgotten before. I switched off the shower, the sound of water fading into silence, while he walked toward the mirror, casually drying his hair.

I stepped closer to him, watching him for a moment before asking softly, “How is your left hand?” He looked puzzled at first, as if trying to recall what I meant, and then it clicked—the injury from two years ago, the one that had once broken him from shoulder to chest.

He flexed his arm slightly, rolling his shoulder with ease before replying, “It’s better. In fact, I’ve been going to the gym too. There’s nothing I can feel now, love.”

I let out a quiet sigh of relief, but still looked at him carefully, needing to be sure. “Are you sure?” I asked again. He simply nodded, a small reassuring smile forming on his lips, and leaned forward to place a gentle kiss on my forehead.

I looked at him for a moment, then asked softly, “What do you like to eat in breakfast?”

Riddhimaan didn’t even take a second.

“You.”

My face instantly heated up.

“Riddhimaan!” I muttered, lightly slapping his chest in embarrassment. He chuckled softly—that deep, teasing sound that always made my heart skip.

I whined again, looking away shyly, “Say properly, nah!”

He stepped a little closer, his gaze softening this time.

“Anything you cook with these pretty hands.”

I blinked at him—the teasing gone—replaced with something warm. A small smile curved on my lips as I nodded slowly.

I told her casually, “From this room, my room is attached to the walk-in closet.”

Krishti looked at me—surprised… almost shocked. Everything here was still new to her, every little detail unfamiliar. That’s why I had already told Varshika to help her settle in… or anyone from the house if needed.

Krishti nodded softly and walked toward the closet. And of course—I followed her.

She stepped inside and started looking around, her fingers brushing through the neatly arranged sections. Then she picked something for herself.

I looked away immediately. Because if I didn’t—I knew exactly where my mind would go. And I wasn’t risking that again. Not this morning. A small smile tugged at my lips. Teaser…She knew what she was doing.

Shaking my head lightly, I moved to my side of the closet and picked up a pair of boxers. I unwrapped the towel from my torso and wore them quickly, focusing on anything but her.

But then—I felt it. Her gaze. On my back.

My muscles tensed slightly—not out of discomfort, but awareness. And then my eyes flickered to the mirror. There they were—faint marks.

Her marks. I didn’t look away. Didn’t hide it. Instead—a smirk slowly appeared on my lips. Because I didn’t need anything else. I liked it. More than I should. I caught her reflection in the mirror.

Watching. The moment our eyes met—she looked away instantly.

I let out a quiet breath, amused, before pulling on my pants, buttoning them up and zipping them. Then I reached for a casual shirt—something simple that matched the shade she had chosen.

Out of the corner of my eye—I saw her take out a blue saree. And for a second—I just watched her. Because no matter what she wore—no matter what she did—She still managed to distract me. Without even trying.

I fixed my hair, pushing it back casually, then walked toward her.

“Let me help my wife,” I said, my voice low but steady. Krishti looked at me and replied softly, “Sure… my husband.”

Something about the way she said it—soft…breathy…It hit me harder than it should have. Memories from last night flashed for a second—and I had to steady myself.

She had no idea what she did to me.Or maybe…she knew exactly. I exhaled quietly, controlling myself, focusing.

She had already worn the petticoat.

I stepped closer and tied the knot for her, my fingers brushing lightly against her waist—just enough to make her aware, but not enough to distract her completely.

Then I picked up the blue saree—unfolding it slowly. She looked at me, a hint of curiosity in her eyes.

“Do you even know how to drape a saree?” she asked.

A faint smile touched my lips.

“I didn’t… at first,” I replied honestly. “But when I was small, I used to watch my mom. The way she draped it… I was always mesmerized.” My hands moved naturally now—muscle memory. Careful. Precise.

“I learned from her… even helped her sometimes.”

I glanced at her through the mirror—my gaze softening.

“And it’s not ‘a woman’…” I added quietly. Stepping a little closer—my voice dropping just enough—

“You’re my woman.”

I began draping the saree around her—pleat by pleat—adjusting every fold with care. Not rushed. Not careless. But like something I wanted to get right—for her.

By now, she had already worn the blouse.

I stepped closer, lifting the edge of the saree and placing it gently over her left shoulder. My hands moved with quiet precision, tucking the pleats at her waist neatly, making sure every fold sat perfectly on her frame.

As I adjusted the fabric, my fingers brushed lightly against the chain resting on her pussy—just enough to tease her.

She let out a soft giggle, a slight shiver passing through her. That sound—it lingered. I leaned closer and pressed a gentle kiss to her cheek. Soft. Unhurried.

Then I fixed the pleats properly, smoothing them down. She carried the saree so effortlessly that it didn’t even need pins. It just… stayed, like it belonged to her.

For a moment, I simply looked at her. Then I reached for the vermillion. Carefully, I applied it along her hairline—just a slight touch, but enough.

A quiet pause settled between us. Because that small gesture—wasn’t just part of getting ready. It was a reminder. She was mine. And I was hers.

I told her softly, “I’ll come down later… you go.” Krishti nodded, understanding without needing more words.

Before leaving, she leaned in and kissed my lips, and I kissed her back just as softly, though my hold on her tightened for a brief second before I let her go. As she walked away, I already missed her warmth, but work didn’t wait.

I turned and walked into my office room, the one attached to ours—my space, completely mine. I put on my earbuds and called my secretary, instructing him to arrange the reception from my side, the underworld circle, and to inform everyone close to me.

He acknowledged with a brief hum before cutting the call. I sighed lightly, but my thoughts didn’t stay still for long. TRT crossed my mind again—something impossible to ignore.

It wasn’t just important, it was dangerous. Anirudh was still searching for clues, just like me. As Phantom and Deathrider, we both knew what was at stake. If it ever surfaced, none of us would survive.

Dante knew parts of it too and was handling things from his side as general, but his temper was unpredictable. If anything touched his wife, he would turn violent without hesitation.

And then there was the Blackston matter—handled by Arshan, supposedly settled. But I didn’t trust that. I would have to look into it myself.

Before I could think further, a maid stepped in and informed me that breakfast was ready. A faint smile crossed my lips—my wife was fast.

I removed my earbuds, picked up my phone, and walked downstairs. The house was alive with voices and movement, everyone gathered—but even then, my eyes searched for only one person.

Her.

That’s all I saw the moment I stepped down.

Krishti was coming out of the kitchen, completely unaware of the way she looked. A little bit of cornflour was smeared on both her cheeks, and somehow… it made her look even more adorable.

A soft smile formed on my lips. Without thinking twice, I walked straight toward her. She stopped when she saw me approaching, slightly confused. I didn’t say anything. I just lifted my hand and gently wiped the cornflour off her cheeks, my fingers brushing her skin softly.

Her eyes widened a little—cheeks turning pink instantly. I knew everyone was watching. Relatives. Family. But honestly?I didn’t care. Because in that moment—all I saw was her.

From the side, Gaurika smiled knowingly, while Manvik couldn’t hold back.

“Bhai… subah subah hi romance?” he teased.

(Brother morning in romance?)

A few chuckles followed. Krishti lowered her gaze, clearly embarrassed. And I?Just smirked slightly—completely unbothered. Because if loving my wife openly was a problem—then I wasn’t planning to stop anytime soon.

Soon everyone gathered around the dining table, the house filling with voices and warmth. Praise followed instantly—for her. Krishti stood there, a little shy but composed, as everyone appreciated the breakfast she had prepared. My eyes shifted to my plate—healthy toast and black coffee. Exactly the way I prefer it. A faint smirk touched my lips. Mom must have told her.

Gaurika and Harshika exchanged knowing looks, clearly enjoying the moment. Some relatives from chachi’s side had arrived early in the morning, and they greeted me with smiles. I simply nodded in acknowledgment, my focus still drifting back to her again and again.

I took my seat and, between bites, informed Yashveer and Manveer, “The reception will be arranged… from my side. Underworld.”

Both of them nodded calmly, understanding without questions. And just like that—the dining table turned into chaos again.

Teasing. Laughter. Side glances thrown at us. Manvik smirked, while Nivaan added fuel to it, and even Varshika and Paridhi weren’t holding back.

Krishti kept her gaze lowered, cheeks flushed, trying to focus on serving. And me? I just leaned back slightly, sipping my coffee—watching her. Because no matter how loud the room got—my attention stayed on one thing.

My wife.