18+
He was the line she shouldn't cross... but she stepped over it with bare feet and a wicked smile.
Late nights, stolen touches, whispered names in the dark - what started as forbidden became an addiction. He's dominant, possessive, and utterly of...
The shopping bags slipped from YN's hand as she entered their home, exhaustion hanging heavy on her shoulders.
"Rajiv... I got late, sorry," she mumbled, stepping into the bedroom.
He was already there-lounging on the couch, legs spread, one hand in his pocket, the other swirling wine in a half-filled glass. His eyes were dark, unreadable.
"Hmm," he replied coolly, arching a brow. "Show me what you brought."
Her fingers trembled slightly as she pulled items from the bag, unsure if he was annoyed or just teasing.
"This shirt... for you," she said, voice soft.
Rajiv nodded once.
"And that?" he asked, eyes flicking toward a neatly folded piece of lace.
"Just... a nightdress," she said, hesitating.
"Oh?" His lips curled around the rim of the glass. "Go. Wear it."
"I'm tired, Rajiv..." she whispered.
"I said go."
Not loud, but firm. Enough to make her breath hitch.
She reached for the simpler one-a satin piece with lace along the neckline-and went to change. It wasn't revealing. Just enough
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When she returned, his gaze swept over her slowly, possessively.
"It's decent," he murmured. "Now the second one."
Her lips parted in protest. "Rajiv-no. Please... I really don't want to-"
He set his glass down.
The clink was soft, but final.
Before he could take a step, YN rushed to grab the second nighty and disappeared into the room again. Her heart thundered in her chest.
Moments later, she returned-still in the first nightdress, the second one clutched nervously in her hands.
"I can't," she whispered, eyes lowered.
He walked toward her, calm but purposeful, finishing the last sip of wine before setting the glass aside.
"Why not?"
"It's... too short..."
"Then why did you bring it?"
"I didn't," she mumbled. "My sister forced me-"
"I said open it."
She flinched. Then shook her head, just slightly.
He stepped closer.
One hand gently tucked her hair behind her ear. The other slid around her waist, tugging at the robe she still wore.
Her breath hitched.
He unwrapped her like a present. The black lace clung to her like mist-short, scandalous, and sinfully beautiful.
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His hand slid up her side, fingers trailing her curves.
She took a step back.
He followed-and sat on the couch again, legs spread, voice low.
"Come here."
She hesitated... then obeyed.
He pulled her into his lap, one arm anchoring her waist, the other sliding up her bare thigh.
"Open it," he said, nodding at his belt.
Her fingers trembled.
She hesitated.
Too long.
And in the next heartbeat, the nightdress tore apart in his grip.
"Rajiv!" she gasped, breathless.
"You weren't listening," he growled, voice hot against her ear. "Now ride me."
Her cheeks burned. Her body trembled as she slowly lowered herself onto him.
"Ahhh... Rajiv..." she moaned, unable to hold it in as he filled her.
Her hands went to her chest instinctively, trying to hide her bouncing breasts-but he was faster. His mouth claimed one, sucking hard, while the other hand massaged the other roughly.
"Don't slow down," he gritted. "I've waited all damn day."
Her head dropped to his shoulder, her rhythm shaky, moans spilling from her lips.
After an intense, dizzying climax, he picked her up effortlessly, laid her down on the bed, and hovered over her.
His lips found her neck, her collarbone, then her chest again-this time with gentler hunger.
"R...Rajiv... I... I can't-"
"Yes, you can," he murmured against her lips. "You're mine tonight."
He took her again-this time harder, deeper.
The bed creaked. Her moans filled the room, rising with every thrust.
"Ahhh... mmhh... Rajiv... please..."
But he didn't stop.
She clawed at his back, tears glinting at the corners of her eyes-not from pain, but overwhelming pleasure and helpless surrender.
Later, her body lay against his, weak and trembling. Her chest rose and fell with each soft breath.
He pulled the blanket around them, one arm holding her tightly, the other brushing her cheek.
"Next time," he whispered, voice gentler now, "don't test me."
She smiled faintly and curled closer, nuzzling into his chest. "I missed you."
His lips found her hair. "I know," he murmured. "I missed this. You. Us."
The room grew quiet, filled only with their steady breaths and the warmth of a bond that ran deeper than dominance or desire.
It was love-in its rawest, most possessive, most passionate form.