𝐃𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐥𝐬 𝐀𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐥 : 𝑨 𝑴𝒂𝒇𝒊𝒂 𝑫𝒂𝒓𝒌 𝑹𝒐𝒎𝒂𝒏𝒄𝒆

|66|•ʜᴀᴘᴘʏ ʙɪʀᴛʜᴅᴀʏ ʟᴏᴠᴇ•(🌶)

𝐈 𝐦𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐛𝐞 𝐬𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐥, 𝐈 𝐦𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐛𝐞 𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐝... 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐢𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐢𝐦, 𝐈'𝐝 𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐬𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐞. 𝐁𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐀𝐧𝐢𝐫𝐮𝐝𝐡 𝐑𝐨𝐲 𝐂𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐝𝐡𝐮𝐫𝐲 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐈'𝐯𝐞 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐝𝐨𝐧𝐞-𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐈'𝐥𝐥 𝐤𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐝𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐭, 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐢𝐟 𝐢𝐭 𝐛𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐬 𝐦𝐞.

↬BY THE GIRL WHO ONCE LOVED HIM

He must think I'm bold.
So damn bold.

But truth?
I'm scared.
Scared shitless.

I'm literally sitting on top of a mafia man-my husband-who could kill people without flinching, and here I am... trying to give him a birthday gift I'm not even ready for.

Even now, as my hands rest on his chest and I try not to shake like a leaf in a storm, my body is betraying me. I'm shivering. As fuck.

But no. No backing out.
This is his 30th birthday.
And I'm supposed to be a good wife, right? A hot, bold, mafia wife.
So what if I'm dying inside?

I glance down.
At his belt.
Oh God. I'm going to suck hi-

EW EW EWWWW!!
WHAT THE FUCK?!
What am I even THINKING!?

I shake my head quickly, disgusted at my own thoughts.
And of course... he laughs.

That stupid, sexy, smug laugh that makes me wanna punch him and kiss him at the same time. "Aree bachhi hai aap jaaln. Yeh sab aapse nahi hone wala. Yaha aaiye."

(Oh jaan, you're just a little girl. You can't do this . Come here.)

Bachhi.
Little girl.

Oh hell no.
Now you've poked the wrong nerve, Mr. Mafia.

Before he could even move, I slid down a little further, my fingers gripping his belt with determination-my heart pounding so loud it felt like gunshots inside my chest.

I forced a smirk. Yeah, fake as fuck-but he doesn't need to know that. "Dehkthe jaaiyie ki yeh bachhi kya kar sakti hai.

(Let's see what this little girl can do.)

And just like that, my fear? Still there.
My shivers? Worse than before.
But my pride? Fucking louder.

And now I'm holding his belt.
Like some professional tease.

Except-I have zero clue what the hell to do next.

He's just lying there, arms behind his head, looking all smug and sinful like he's on the cover of Mafia Monthly.
Meanwhile, I'm sweating like a goat at a lion party.

Think, Bondita. Think!
What do bold girls do next?

I try to pull the belt-dramatically, of course-but it gets stuck.
Yes. Stuck.

Now I'm yanking it like a maniac while he raises one eyebrow like I'm the main comedy act at his birthday show.

"Need help, Mrs. Roy Choudhury?" he smirks.

"NO!" I snap like a cornered kitten. "I got this! I'm a woman!"

A very confused, horny, panicking woman.

Finally, with one strong pull, the belt comes loose-
-AND HITS ME RIGHT IN THE FACE.

I literally slap myself with his belt.
On his birthday.