Khatta-Mitha Ishq

∘₊✧The night✧∘₊

∘₊✧Ragini : The night is gently wild✧∘₊

His fingers on my nape are rubbing the place so gently, it forces me to breathe oxygen with my mouth. I can feel his warm breath again on my lips, "Calm down, my wild cat. Breathe. I just kissed, and your smutty brain cells seem lost."

I open my eyes in a snap to see the gorgeous smirk in between the perfect trimmed beard and the moustache. The little curve of his lip on the right side perfectly matches the curve of his moustache.

I lick my dry lips. He sucked all the wetness from it and left them dry. Damn. I forced my eyes to look at his eyes. But his lips are just inviting me, they are glistening with our mixed saliva, while his tongue is exploring inside my mouth.

His smirk grows, when I am lost in his lips and forget to reply back. "So, does this pretty little mouth forget to reply back?"

Is this the same person, who was so dry in texts? And here in front of me, with some words in his deepest rough voice, making my knees weak.

I want to just smash his lips with mine, showing some power to me, just like how I thought I would dominate my husband. But why?? Why do I just want to be dominated by him right now?

And when his thumb brushes across the border of the lower lip, I realise how big he is in front of me. His thumb just rubs in the middle of the lower lip to push it down, to feel the soft bounce.

He leans down and brushes his sharp nose tip on mine, to spread his warm breath on my parted lips, "Don't look at me like this Ragini. You can't dominate me, and will end up with your kind of punishment."

I whisper, "Test me then. I can dominate you or not."

He teases me, "A small kid is here to dominate me, sooo funny."

I mock him back, "Old man"

He pinch on my bare waist, "This old man can make you breathless, sweetheart, now turn around."

I frown, "Why?"

He smirks again, "See, I can't bend you over the mirror right, so for now open your bun."

I feel heat creeping up from my neck to my cheeks. Why the fuck he is so straight forward. Just to hide from his intense gaze, I go with his hand movement over my shoulder. Not to mention, how his both hands land on my shoulders, while brushing his fingers. Even when his fingers are leaving its print over the saree and the blouse, still I felt the shivery warmth.

We both need to take some step to make the space in between me and the mirror. But I can't hide at all from his gaze. But the intensity starts to decrease as if he is making a digital print of me into his head.

Again his hands drop beside my hands. I whisper, trying to connect my eyes with him through the mirror, "What are you looking for?"

He wraps his hand under my chest, as my back hits his chest, he drops his chin on the crook of my neck. He moves his body with mine little to swing us lightly together, "This moment, I just wish, I have the talent of Shayeri, to describe your beauty."

I title back my head to rest on his chest, "Do you know why Shayeri sounds so good, because it's not about saying the direct words, it's all about giving the deep essence of the feeling in breaking down the simple words in multiple ways which shows the genuine hit into your heart. The rhythm doesn't matter, if your random words can flatter my heart, give me blush on my cheeks. Shayeri really doesn't matter."

He puts his lips the nearest place on my jaw, "I really don't know who adds this specific ritual of wearing Sindoor in our marriage culture, but I am grateful to him. I never knew just some powder of red colour can make you mine."