The Maharaja And I : Inspired by Bridgerton

Monarch, Untamed.

Their secret tryst under the silver moonlight was shrouded by the cloaking secrecy of a silk canopy.

Luck had streaked across the Maharaja's night sky, gracing him with another intoxicating encounter with a henna-haired maiden.

In the dimly lit tent, the only light coming from the soft glow of candles and the silver moonlight filtering through the thin fabric, they were completely alone.

Maharaja Suryadev was panting heavily as he pressed his naked body against damsel's, their hearts hammering in unison with desire. Their tongues danced in a heated tango as they explored each other's lips, feeling out every crevice and corner of each other's mouths.

With practiced ease, the damsel slipped her hands underneath the Maharaja's shirt, tracing patterns on his sweat-slick skin before tugging it up and off over his head.

She leaned back slightly, giving him a sultry look that promised all sorts of wicked delights, then sank to her knees

Meanwhile, the Maharaja had ripped off her own clothes, revealing her well-defined bare bosom that glistened with sweat. He grasped her hair gently but firmly as he pulled her up and positioned himself between her legs. She was slick with arousal, waiting eagerly for him.

The candle flames flickered, casting shadows on the walls of the tent as the Maharaja and the damsel indulged in their passionate embrace.

Their sweat-slick bodies moved together in perfect harmony, creating a wet erotic rhythm that echoed through the night air.

The Maharaja's hands gripped her hips tightly, pulling her closer to him as he plunged deeper inside her wet warmth. His eyes closed tightly, savoring the sensation of her silken skin sliding against his rough palms.

He nipped at her neck playfully as he whispered crude words of lust into her ear, leaving goosebumps all over her body. She arched her back in response, pressing herself even harder against him.

She cried out his name as pleasure coursed through every nerve ending in her body

The damsel's slender legs entwined around his waist, exerting a firm pressure that urged him onward with every step, very inch of her pressed against him, begging for more, and he happily obliged as they journeyed towards their shared destination.

That's when he heard the final temple bells of the evening Aarti.

The Maharaja distanced himself from their intimate entanglement with a fucking curse, an invisible thread of lust pulling taut between them.

He hauled himself off the enormous golden bed, his rippling muscles screaming out in silent protest. As he ventured towards the bathing pools, eager to scrub away the tangible evidence of their carnal dance, his mind buzzed with thoughts of their next erotic rendezvous.

It was time for him to join the guests at the Royal Navaratri festival, and like the Rajamata had instructed, scan the room and dutifully to be prepared to pick one of the eligible women paraded before him as the Mahrani of Hampi.