A Relationship That Blurs The Lines Between Love and Obsession
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Raghavendra Singh Rajvansh , is ruthless , heir to thron of royal , prominent state of Rajasthan with being it's chief minister and innumerable...
The morning dawned slowly, casting a warm golden light over the city. The sky transformed into a kaleidoscope of hues - soft pinks, blushing peaches, and radiant oranges.
The air was crisp and cool, carrying the sweet scent of blooming flowers and the distant chirping of birds. The gentle breeze rustled through the leaves, creating a soothing melody.
Inside Raghavendra's room, the morning sun peeked through the curtains, casting a warm glow. The soft rays danced across his face, illuminating his chiseled features.
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The room was quiet, except for the faint hum of the air conditioner and the occasional chirp of a bird outside. The atmosphere was peaceful, inviting a sense of serenity.
Suddenly, his phone buzzed, shattering the tranquility. Raghavendra opened his eyes, focusing on the caller ID.
"Good morning, beta..." His mother's voice poured through the line.
Raghavendra stood by the window, lost in thought. His mother's voice still lingered in his mind, but his focus had shifted.
"Meera..." he whispered, his eyes narrowing.
Thoughts of dominating her flooded his mind. He envisioned her beneath him, her body surrendering to his touch. Her full, luscious lips parted in submission. Her slender neck arched, exposing the delicate skin he yearned to kiss.
He pictured her curves, soft and inviting. Her waist, narrow and defined. Her hips, flared and irresistible.
"Fuck," he muttered, cursing his morning wood.
Meera's smile flashed in his mind, and he couldn't help but groan. "Shit, get a hold of yourself."
But his mind refused to cooperate. Memories of their last encounter danced before him - the way she laughed, the way her eyes sparkled.
He imagined her breasts, full and round, filling his palms. Her nipples, hard and responsive, begging for his touch.
Raghavendra's chest heaved, his pulse racing.
"Damn it, Meera," he growled, frustration etched on his face.
His mother's voice echoed in his mind, a stark contrast to his sensual thoughts. "Raghavendra, when are you coming home?"
He chuckled darkly. If she only knew.
Meera's eyes, like pools of darkness, drew him in. He envisioned her hair, wild and untamed, spread across his pillow.
"Shit, I need to get out of here," he muttered, releasing the windowsill.
Raghavendra strode towards the door, his thoughts still consumed by Meera. His face remained impassive, but his mind seethed with desire.
The cold shower did little to alleviate his frustration.
