Talab

Her royal love 7

He kissed her entire face slowly — her forehead, eyelids, cheeks, the tip of her nose — as if memorizing the map of her innocence.

His shirt fell to the floor. The cold breeze of Shimla kissed his bare skin, but all he could feel was the heat rising inside him.

Unknown to him, that same warmth made her heart beat faster... made her breath hitch.

And made her want — for the first time, not with hesitation... but with longing.

He kissed her again — this time, deeper. Wild. Passionate.

He tried to control the storm within him, but tonight, love was overpowering restraint.

His hands reached for her blouse, trembling with emotion. In one fluid motion, it fell apart — exposing the soft, delicate skin he'd always respected, but never touched.

Now, both of them were bare from the waist up — exposed not just in body, but in soul.

He bent down, placing reverent kisses along her collarbone, then lower. His lips lingered over her curves — soft, slow, marking her with kisses that spoke one language: You're mine.

"Rooh... I can never get enough of you," he whispered hoarsely, his voice thick with love.

Her breath trembled.

He unwrapped her saree gently, as if unwrapping the most precious gift of his life.

She was now only in her undergarments, blushing fiercely. She instinctively closed her eyes and curled her legs slightly in shyness.

"Rooh," he whispered, cupping her face, "look at me. When I make love to you... I want your eyes on me. I want you to see what love truly looks like."

She opened her eyes slowly, lovingly — trusting.

He trailed kisses from her throat to her navel, worshipping her with every touch. She shivered, the world outside fading away.

Her body was no longer hers — it belonged to his touch, his devotion.

He gently slid her panties down, all the while never breaking eye contact.

She hesitated, closing her legs instinctively, but he touched her knees with such tenderness that she slowly let go.

"It's just your Maan," he said softly.

He placed her legs over his shoulders and leaned down, leaving a kiss so gentle it stole her breath.

What followed was overwhelming — not just the sensation, but the realization.

She had never known such closeness.

She moaned his name — his real name, his soul's name — over and over. She was unraveling in his love. Her fingers gripped the sheets, her voice trembling as she cried out his name like a prayer.

He held her through it all — and when it was over, he kissed her deeply, as if thanking her for trusting him with her heart, her body, her everything.

Then, without a word, he stood — baring himself completely.

Her eyes widened slightly at the sight of him — not out of fear, but surprise.

"Maan..." she whispered. "How will it..."

He chuckled gently at her innocence.

"Shhh... it will. I promise. Just trust me."

He knelt between her legs, softly kissing her thighs, then slowly inserted a finger to prepare her.

She whimpered slightly.

"You're so delicate, bacha," he whispered, heart aching.

After a few moments, he looked into her eyes again. "Are you ready?"

"I'm scared, Maan," she admitted, hugging him tightly.

He kissed her head. "Then I'll hold you through it all. I'll be as gentle as I can. I swear."

When he finally entered her, she let out a cry — not of regret, but the unfamiliar sharpness of first pain.

He stilled, tears filling his eyes.

"I'm sorry, Rooh... I'm so sorry. I'll wait."

And he did — he stayed still, kissing away her tears, holding her like something fragile and irreplaceable.

Minutes passed before she whispered, "You can move... slowly."

And slowly... he did.

The pain melted into warmth. The warmth melted into something else — something indescribable.

By the time their bodies moved in perfect rhythm, they weren't just making love.

They were creating their own universe.

In the cold of Shimla, two hearts burned... and became one.