The journey of two people that have had everything laid in their feet since they were kids, except for the one thing they wanted.
Freedom.
In the society of the rich, you either keep the appearance or the passion. With lives put on crossroads, and...
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I lay under him, trying to live in the moment as he kisses my collarbone before going lower. He is a skilled man. I know by how skillfully he flicks my clit or by how he enters me, trying to ease me, trying to lessen the pain that comes with his size everytime. I am still not used to him but when he is inside it me, it feels right. It feels like home. Except today. Today I am not here with him.
As much as my body complies with him and bends to his will, my mind isn't here. Whatever I heard, whatever I was told, it doesn't sit right with me. I feel used. I hate my grandfather so much. His words always ruin my day and now they've ruined my ability to be with my husband. To give him what he truly deserves.
Shivansh's fingers clutch mine, he pushes my hands over my head as his thrusts pick up speed. His kisses turn to bites. His teeth sink into my skin and I, for the very first time, welcome the pain. It grounds me. I arch my back, giving him more of me to bite. To hurt.
He doesn't.
Ofcourse he doesn't. My husband knows what's inside a person's head even before the person. He pulls away from my breast and looks me in the eye. His jaw locks firmly when he sees whatever it is that my face shows. His hand leaves mine, his eyes fall shut as he pulls out and falls beside me. My eyes move to the ceiling that has beautiful paintings made on it. My thoughts swirl.
He didn't come. My lack of response ruined it. I could've done better, I could've focused on the man who matters rather than my thoughts that ruin everything. Insecurities make my stomach churn and my head hurt. Mumma told me of all the responsibilities I had, as a doting wife, one was to keep my husband satisfied. And even though it's a load of bullshit, built by stupid misogynistic people, satisfying him actually brought me pleasure and now I feel like a failure.
"Stop that." I turn to him, to find him already watching me. "Stop what?" I ask. "Over thinking. You deserve better. Better than what he did to you, and definitely better than what you're doing to yourself. You're better than this Amaira."
Amaira. Not darling or love but Amaira. My name has never offended me as much before as it does right now. I hate it. "Are you mad at me?" He frowns at my question. "Why do you think that?"
"You called me Amaira." His lips lift slightly. "Isn't that your name, Amaira?" Now he is being cruel. And he is enjoying that. Beautiful asshole. "Stop that." I give him his own words back and his smile grows. His hand comes up to cup my cheek.
"He has kept you under his thumb for a very long time darling, it's time you give your grandfather what he truly deserves. Step up to him. For me and for yourself." My eyes fall close when his thumb grazes my cheek. His touch, so warm, so tender. It makes me want to stay in his arms forever and never leave.
"You don't have to." I open my eyes and frown at him. Did I say that out loud? "You don't have to leave my arms. You can stay in them forever. I promise I'll keep you safe." Have you ever looked at someone and thought, this is the person I would do anything for? That's him for me. Just in such little time he has become so important for me.
