To hide one lie, thousands of lies are needed.
Jhanish Mehrotra
He is a grumpy, moody billionaire who doesn't like people around him, he can't feel emotions or maybe he don't want to feel.
For him his work and his company is his priority.
But wh...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Surreal.
It still feels like dream.
I'm married now.
I know, I know, I was already married to Jhanish before, but I don't know why but this is the first time in forever I actually feel that now I'm married. My mangalsurta, sindoor, my chooda. Everything.
And if it's dream, I never want to wake up.
My fingers creep into his hair. All that soft, silky dark hair. I tug on it, wanting him even closer. I want him to devour me with his mouth.
I'm floating, flying and falling all at the same time. My husband surely knows how to make me all flustered and needy with his kisses, I'm sucker for his kisses.
The kiss goes on and on with sweet to hungry to back again. A steady pulse beats between my legs. I tap on his shoulder repeatedly to make him stop. He finally breaks away, we both were grasping for air.
He breathes in astonishment, "Fucking hell, sweetheart."
He's staring at me, wearing an expression of hunger and hot impatience, his gaze darting back and forth between my eyes and my mouth.
He kisses me again, grabbing my face between his big hands.
A soft sound rings over our head, and Jhanish instantly undoes our seatbelt.
"Bedroom. Now." He bites my lips, I gasp when he carries me. My legs instantly wraps around his waist. He holds me in tight, possessive grip, his hands moves under my baby pink dress gown, digging his finger into my bare flesh.
When we reached inside bedroom, he kicked the door shut behind and set me down.
Against my mouth, he murmurs. "Sweetheart, how wet are you?"
I don't answer him, kissing him harder. I arch into him, my heart hammering and my nipples hardening with every sweep of his tongue against mine. He tugs on my panties, making me squirm restlessly, then slides his hand between my legs.
"Soaked." he whispers, rubbing my panties. He slips his fingers under my panties and gently pinches my swollen clit. I gasp.
"Baby, let's skip the foreplay. I need to be inside you so badly." He breathes. Our mouth was on each other. I start unbuttoned his shirt while he unzipped my gown.
Our movemenys were desperate, frantic as we tore each other's clothes off. My gown, his shirt, his pants, my bra. He gently pushed me back on the bed, no matter how many times I've seen him shirtless. It's always leaves me with stunned eyes and millions of butterflies.
God! I think I've chest fetish. I'm obsessed with his broad, powerful chest, toned eight-pack. He's much bigger compared to me, this size difference is so appealing to me. I love how easily he can pick me with his incredible strength.
