Gereksiz İntikam

12

Shoaib's pov

She is sleeping peacefully, without caring about her bare body.

Her white skin glows in contrast to the black.

Her hair is still damp, with a few long strands sticking to her face and her left boob, making her even more beautiful. Her blue eyes are closed as she sleeps, which makes me gawk at her more shamelessly.

The smooth rise and fall of her chest urges me to caress her swollen skin,  I did not restrain my urge.

I gently caress her side, but she is sleeping like there's no tomorrow.

"Come on, you took her virginity a few hours ago like a mad bull ," my mind mocks.

A proud smirk appears on my lips. Finally, I ruined her innocence the way her brother did with my princess.

I'm sure this 'baji-type' woman sleeping in front of me will be traumatized after knowing that she lost her virginity to me without marriage.

"A few minutes ago, you were taking her hard out of jealousy", my heart mocks.

I roll my eyes and smile, imagining Taha's reaction when he finds out.

I wish Abraham bhai would kill him in a dungeon, but on the other hand, I want him to know what I did with his sister. I want him to feel the pain I felt when I found out about my baby sister's kidnapping and sudden marriage to him.

God knows if he actually married her or faked it all like me, just to feed his lust.

The mere thought of him doing this to my princess without nikah boils my blood.

"You're just as much of a psycho. You took his sister without nikah," my heart mocks.

I'll kill this stupid heart of mine; it's defending her for no reason. For God's sake, your job is to pump blood, not drool over anyone! I clench my jaw.

I was staring at her sleeping form without blinking. She is a sight to behold, to be honest...

She is my woman now, I smile involuntarily.

"And you are her man," my mind reminds me.

I never thought she would be this easy to make submit, like brother, like sister, complete whore. Bitterness fill my sense.

Thank God I took her virginity, or else I would die of anger if that bastard Navruz had already taken her.

Of course, he would have taken her in his way and then sold her for a bunch of money if Abraham hadn't crashed her wedding.

But the mere thought of another man touching her—not just touching, but staring at her the way I touch and stare—drives me insane.

She belongs to me now.

I cover her bare body with a black silk duvet as she shivers in the cold.

Obviously, she was all wet, and her hair is still not completely dry.

She’ll catch a fever for sure, but I don't know why I'm feeling uneasy in my heart thinking about her condition.

I get up immediately from my side, not caring about my own state of undress.

The blood of her innocence has dried on my blut head and nuts, reminding me that she belongs to me.

I smile like a teenager thinking about how I claimed her as mine.

I walk to the bathroom, grab a dry towel, and return to the room, sitting beside her head.

Ever so gently, I lift her hair from beneath her back and place her head on my lap, making sure not to wake her.

Don't take this the wrong way, but I don't want her to fall sick, as I will not spend a single penny on her treatment, second I don't want Rubab to see her ill because they surely share a good bond.

I am drying her hair with extra delicacy. Her long, thigh-length hair is laying on my bare lower half, hiding my manhood too.

While drying her hair, my eyes linger on her innocent face, then her neck and collarbone.

My art looks worth seeing on her white skin.

But don't you think it's strange that she hasn't woken up with this much movement and continuous rubbing of her hair?

Naive you, I actually gave her a sedative in a small quantity to make her sleep.

Don't judge me, man; I'm not a psycho, but her silent crying and sobbing for that deceased bastard was getting on my nerves.

Look, see my length; her blood is proof that I am the only man in her life to touch her this way. Then why is she crying and mourning over promises and love commitments?

Will Sherya also cry like her after knowing my betrayal? A thought came across my mind.

Of course not, she will understand my point of view.

While drying her hair, I took her henna-clad palm in which that bastard's name was written.

I crossed out his name with my fingertip and wrote my own.

I know it's a childish thing, but I feel happy imagining my name in her hand.

For sure, these siblings know black magic.

Her brother made my sister head over heels for him, and here I am, unable to help but lust after her innocence and body again and again.

I closed my eyes to sway away my thoughts.

I dry her hair as much as possible and make her wear my black shirt.

I’m not taking care of her; I just don’t want to spend money on her illness.

I cover her completely and lie beside her.

Unwillingly, I put my head on her chest and snake my arms around her waist.

Okay, I’m a bastard too; that’s why I already put a note on the table. I just can’t wait for her to wake up and read the note: here complete my revenge.

" scar your brother gave me. A scar I give to your brother."

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