𝐁𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐎𝐛𝐬𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧: 𝐊𝐚𝐛𝐢𝐫 𝐎𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐨𝐢 (𝟏𝟖+) ✅

𝟒𝟎: 𝐀𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬.

He moves towards me with a predatory step, his eyes fixed on me with a hunger that needs to be satiated by me. I instinctively clutch the pillow tighter against my chest, trying to create some distance between us, but his presence is suffocating.

My heart pounds in my chest, the sound of it echoing in my ears as if it's screaming for me to run, to escape from the danger that stands before me. But I'm frozen, rooted to the spot as his gaze pins me in place.

He looks exactly as he did the first time I saw him, all those years ago. Tall, imposing, with an air of danger that seemed to surround him like a cloak. Back then, I was drawn to him like a moth to a flame, unaware of the darkness that lurked beneath his charming facade.

But now, as he advances towards me with that same deadly allure, I can see him for what he truly is. A predator, stalking his prey with ruthless determination. And I know that if I don't take this escape, I may never get another chance, and I'm not sure if I want to.

"Tell me, Jaan, did anyone touch what's mine when I wasn't there?" His voice drips with venom as he tightens his grip on my hair, causing sharp pain to shoot through my scalp.

My light blue Anarkali suit feels like it's made of paper under his intense gaze as if he's peeling away every layer until I stand before him completely exposed. But in reality, I've been stripped bare long before he even laid eyes on me.

This is the monster driven by hunger, fuelled by lust, the one who sees me not as a person, but as a possession to be owned. And yet, in some twisted way, I find myself craving his touch, yearning to surrender to him completely. Because despite the darkness that consumes him, I know that within these walls, he's also the one who cares for me. He feeds me when I'm hungry, soothes my aches, and holds me close when I need comfort. He worships me like I'm his goddess, even as he treats me like his whore behind four walls.

"N...no," I stammer, meeting his gaze with a mixture of fear and longing.

"Good girl," he murmured, his fingers delicately brushing through my hair, tucking a loose strand behind my ear. Just as I relaxed into the gentle gesture, he abruptly seized my face, his grip unyielding as he drew me close to him. "And no one ever will," he uttered through clenched teeth.

"Do you have any idea how many times I've restrained myself from throttling that bastard for so much as looking at you? For daring to touch you? For merely breathing the same air as you..." His words were soft, but the underlying intensity was palpable. With deft hands, he removed my earrings and discarded my scarf carelessly to the ground. Slowly, he undid the back of my dress until it cascaded down my back, leaving me nearly exposed, vulnerable beneath him. His feet toyed with the anklets adorning my ankles.

"Every day, I've had to jerk myself off in thoughts of your sweet cunt, your mouth, your every curve and my favourite..." His thumb traced my lower lip, and moved towards the butt-hole, sending a shiver down my spine. It was both unsettling and strangely exhilarating, the way he could have anyone yet remained fixated on me.