𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐀𝐫𝐜𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐓𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬 | 𝟏𝟖+

𝟐𝟐. Bloody Kiss 🌶

･:*࿔.ೃ⋆❀˚༺☆༻°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

Continued,

And instead of shrinking back, Ikshita met his gaze—hesitant, defiant, yet undeniably curious, the storm in her eyes daring him to test her limits.

"Then... teach me," she whispered, the words trembling between innocence and challenge.

Aakarsh's expression darkened, that faint smirk ghosting over his lips. "No, Daisy."

Her brows furrowed instantly. "Why?"

"Because," he murmured, leaning back with infuriating calm, "either you do it properly... or I drive you straight back to—"

He never finished.

She moved before he could breathe another syllable—grabbing his collar with a sudden, reckless grip and crushing her mouth to his. The world outside the car blurred into nothingness as her lips pressed hard against his, heat flaring, breath catching.

Aakarsh groaned against her mouth, caught off guard by the boldness, by the intoxicating sweetness that melted into something darker.

"Don't drink whiskey before kissing me," she whispered against his lips, her breath hot and uneven, before biting down softly—just enough to make him hiss, a trace of blood blooming where her teeth met his skin.

A punishment. A warning. A declaration.

For driving her insane with his impossible arrogance—and the way he made desire feel like war.

And Ikshita Singhania always got what she wanted — even if she had to break every rule in the book to get it.

"Aakarsh..." she moaned, breath trembling when his hand slid into her hair, fisting it with perfect precision — firm enough to remind her who was in control, gentle enough to make her melt. He tilted her chin, forcing her eyes to meet his, the green in them darkened to something sinful before he crashed his lips onto hers.

This time, it wasn't soft. It was dominance — deliberate, claiming, intoxicating. The kind of kiss that stole air and left her craving the next breath only if it came from him.

He wasn't punishing her for biting him earlier — no, Aakarsh Mehrotra didn't believe in pain. He believed in lessons.

And this one was written on her lips — rough enough to tame, deep enough to make her remember who could silence her fire without burning it out.

Because someone had to remind the bratty princess that even she could be outmatched.

"Dont show me your barty ass attitude right now, daisy." he mumbled, and she bit his lips chewing it in her mouth.

"You don't get to say this to—" her voice got eaten by his chewing on her lips.

"Yes you dont get to say, When I'm having your saliva down my throat, fuck" he held her waist, and yanked her on his lap, before kissing her the way he wants to hard rough and wild, tasting her whole mouth.

A beat passed. The air between them thickened—anger, challenge, something far more dangerous. His hand found her wrist, firm but not cruel, anchoring her in place as if to remind her who she was dealing with.

"Ahh" she moaned inside, when his warm hand touched the inside of her crop top.

"Yes daisy say" he spoke, but she just dig her nails onto his soft lips totally forgetting every equation between them, she was lost in the sweet soft feeling of having his lips around her, and her lips around his pair.