Page 6 of Mrs. Pandey
“Now tell me you haven’t been aching for this,” he growled, massaging me without even taking off my underwear. God, I wanted more of him; I wanted him to rip my panties and take me rough right on my bed.
“Prashant…” I breathed.
But he didn’t let me finish. His mouth crashed into mine hungry, and devouring. His hand was still rubbing me wild while his mouth teased me hot. He was a damn good kisser; I could taste the alcohol he had consumed, and I was damn sure he could taste wine on my tongue.
This should be stopped before I spread my legs again for this man.
I pushed at his chest, but he caught my wrists, yanked them behind my back, and kissed me harder and rougher, like punishing me for disobeying him. He always punished me fordisobeying him. I was sure his hand must be feeling the pulsing between my thighs. I tried to resist. I really did. But the way he kissed me... it wasn’t fair. It never was.
My body deceived me again. I kissed him back like I had been dying without oxygen and he was the only air I craved.
We stumbled onto my bed, clawing, grinding, kissing like we wanted to hurt and heal each other all at once. His lips were everywhere, a burning trail from my mouth down my jaw, along the curve of my neck, to the hollow of my throat. My hands were tangled in his short hair, pulling him closer, desperate for more. Every touch, every press of his body against mine, sent electric shocks through me, making me arch into him.
“I love him, Prashant,” I breathed out between kisses, locking eyes with him, desperate to convince myself. “I loved him then, and I’ll always love Aryan. Just a few hours ago, I had a really good time with him.”
His hand wrapped around my throat, not tight, just enough to make me feel owned as he pulled me up against his stone-hard chest like I belonged there. In his arms.
“I just wanted to see again how loyal you really were,” he sneered in my face. “Turns out, you’re nothing but a selfish, cold woman. You used me when Aryan wasn’t around. And now he’s back, suddenly you’re the blushing bride-to-be? Want his babies, his name, his ring?”
“He offered it to me first, Prashant. Ten years ago,” I retorted, my voice tight with a mix of defiance and rising panic. His words stung, each one a barb finding its mark. “And you? You offered nothing but a few stolen nights and a cold shoulder.”
His grip on my jaw tightened for a fraction of a second, his eyes flashing.
“A few stolen nights?” he repeated, his voice dangerously low. “Is that what they were to you, Ira? Just a way to pass the time until your ‘true love’ comes back?”
I refused to look away, even as the truth of his accusation sunk into me. He was right. In a way, I had used him. Used his warmth, his presence, to fill the emptiness left by Aryan’s absence. But it wasn’t that easy. It was never like this with Prashant.
“You left, Prashant!” I replied, my voice cracking. “You came back like a stranger! You think I didn’t see it? You think I didn’t feel the walls you built around yourself? How could I stay and watch you lose yourself?”
A muscle jumped in his jaw. “So you ran to him. To the safe option. The one who wouldn’t challenge you, wouldn’t demand anything but your comfort.”
“He loves me!” I cried, the words bursting from my throat. “He never stops loving me! And I love him too! You were… you were a distraction, Prashant. A beautiful, dangerous distraction.”
His eyes glinted, reflecting the raw pain and anger swirling inside him. “A distraction?” he snarled, his voice laced with bitter sarcasm.
He shoved me back onto the bed, hovering over me, his hands resting on either side of my head.
“Is that it, Ira? Just a distraction?”
His gaze fell to my lips, then down, to the rise and fall of my chest beneath the thin silk. The tremors in my body were undeniable, a clear betrayal of the cold words he had just spoken to me.
“You want to talk about distractions?” he murmured, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down my spine.
“Let’s see if your body agrees with your words, Warrior. Let’s see if Aryan’s name will be on your lips when I’m buried deep inside you.”
He moved forward with a sudden, brutal shift that left no room for protest. His weight pressed me into the mattress, the scent of his whiskey skin and my skin something uniquely intoxicating and terrifying, like the Pacific. His lips descended, not softly, but with hurting intensity, demanding a response that my treacherous body was already eager to give.
I shut my eyes, a silent scream caught in my throat. I hated him. I hated him for coming, for breaking the fragile peace I’d built, for making me question everything, for making me feel this insidious pull, even two days before my wedding to another man.
But as his hand found its way under my nightgown, tracing a path of fire up my thigh, my resolve crumbled. The desire, the raw, undeniable hunger he ignited in me was a terrifying beast. And as his lips moved from my mouth to my neck, his teeth gently nipping, a broken whimper escaped me.
He knew. He always knew. And for that, I hated him more than anything.
My eyes snapped open, and I blinked into the darkness of my room. The air was cool, the only sound was the soft hum of the AC unit. My heart was still hammering, my breath coming in ragged gasps. I sat up, clutching the silk nightgown that was twisted around me. My skin was damp with sweat, and a shiver ran through me.
It was a dream. Just a dream. The bitter taste of bile was gone, replaced by the lingering phantom heat of his touch. My mind raced, replaying every vivid detail of Prashant's angry hazel eyes, the brutal beauty of his scarred chest, the possessive claim of his mouth. It felt so real, too real, for mere fantasy.
I touched my lips, still tingling from the imagined pressure of his kiss. A sigh escaped me, a mix of relief and a strange, unsettling disappointment. Prashant wasn't here. There was no confrontation, no illicit encounter, no dangerous game of desire just two days before my wedding. It was all a product of my conflicted mind, a manifestation of the turmoil churning beneath my carefully constructed composure.
