Anya's ancient antics: a mahabharat tale

chapter 45

"⚠️ Warning: Spicy scenes ahead! Proceed with caution, maybe grab a cold drink or a fan – things are about to get extra heated! 😏🔥 If you're uncomfortable, feel free to skip this paragraph but yeah there is twist in this chapter – no judgment, just chill!"
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Anya stood before the mirror, adjusting her saree for what felt like the hundredth time. She had chosen his favorite color—a deep, royal blue that complimented her skin perfectly. The fabric clung to her curves in all the right ways, and she smiled at her reflection, feeling confident and beautiful. “Tonight is going to be special,” she whispered to herself, excitement bubbling inside her.

She was sitting on the bed, waiting eagerly when the door finally creaked open. Her heart skipped a beat when she saw Duryodhan step into the room, his eyes immediately finding hers.

“Oh, you came, husband!” she exclaimed, her voice filled with excitement as she sat up straighter, almost bouncing with enthusiasm.

Duryodhan paused, taking in the sight of her. She was glowing—wrapped in his favorite color, eyes bright with excitement, her body practically trembling with energy. A slow smile spread across his face as he approached her. “You’re really something else, Anya,” he said, his deep voice filled with amusement and affection.

Anya grinned, her excitement impossible to hide. “Something else? I’ll take that as a compliment,” she teased, her eyes sparkling with mischief. But as Duryodhan came closer, his gaze soft and warm, her heart began to race for a different reason.

He stopped just inches from her, his hand reaching out to gently cup her cheek. His thumb brushed over her skin, lingering there for a moment before it moved down to trace the outline of her lips. Anya’s breath caught in her throat, and for the first time that night, she felt a nervous flutter in her stomach.

“You look stunning,” Duryodhan whispered, his voice low and filled with desire.

Anya felt her cheeks flush as she looked up at him through her lashes. “I’m glad you like it,” she whispered back, her voice soft.

“I like more than just the saree,” he murmured, his lips hovering over hers, the warmth of his breath making her shiver.

Her heart hammered in her chest as he leaned in, his lips capturing hers in a deep, slow kiss. Anya melted into him, her arms instinctively wrapping around his neck as she pulled him closer. His hands moved to her waist, gripping her gently but firmly, as if he couldn’t bear to let her go.

Duryodhan broke the kiss for a moment, his eyes dark and filled with want. “Are you really this excited?” he asked, his voice husky.

Anya bit her lip, her playful grin returning. “Why wouldn’t I be? This is... new,” she teased, her voice light and teasing, but the tremor in it gave her away. She was excited—more than she had ever been before. “You’re not nervous, are you?” she added, her eyes twinkling with mischief.

Duryodhan smirked, his hand sliding from her waist to the small of her back, pulling her against him. “I should be asking you that,” he whispered in her ear, his lips grazing her skin, sending shivers down her spine.

Her response came in the form of a breathless laugh as he started unwrapping her saree, his fingers deftly working the fabric until it fell away, pooling at her feet. The cool air against her exposed skin made her gasp, but Duryodhan’s hands were there, warm and strong, guiding her gently down onto the bed.

He kissed her again, harder this time, his lips demanding as his hands roamed her body, exploring every curve, every inch of her skin. Anya’s breath hitched as she felt his touch, her body responding to him with a desire she hadn’t realized she had.