|87|•ᴊɪsᴍ ᴀᴜʀ ᴊᴀᴀɴ•(🌶)

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⚠️ A SWEET LOVING MAKING...⚠️

God…Sometimes I think…How the fuck did I get this lucky?

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God…
Sometimes I think…
How the fuck did I get this lucky?

Wasn’t I always…
The most unfavourable child?
The one my father looked at like I’d never be enough?

And yet…
Here I am.
With her.

In my arms.
Again.

Her soft breathing…
The slight weight of her head resting on my chest…
Her hair still damp from the bath I gave her.

She was soft.
So fucking soft.
My wife.
Humari chhoti pari. (My little angel.)

Even while my laptop glows beside me…
My other hand typing commands, signing off shipments, sending orders to men who won’t breathe unless I say so…
My mind isn’t on work.

It’s on her.

The little baby…
Sleeping on my arms.
Her naked body covered only by a thin red sheet.
One of her legs tangled over my thigh, like she’s claiming me even in her sleep.

Fuck.

Last night…
No, last morning…
I took her until the sun rose, until her voice broke, until she was trembling, begging, shattering under me.
She couldn’t even keep her eyes open by the end.

When she finally passed out…
I carried her myself.
Wrapped her body in a thick blanket, not letting a single inch show.

Every maid.
Every guard in the mahal.
Scattered like frightened insects the second they saw me coming.
Eyes on the floor.
Not one dared to glance up.

I took her to our room.
Held her under the warm water, bathed her myself.
Her head resting on my chest, her lashes unmoving, breath soft like a doll’s.
She didn’t wake when I dried her.
Didn’t stir when I laid her on this bed.

Now…
She’s pressed against me.
One of my arms wrapped around her shoulders, my fingers brushing her skin slowly, lazily.
The other hand still working — because a mafia doesn’t get to sleep for long.
I took a month off.
Now, every second I rest costs me blood or money.

Still… I can’t stop looking at her.

I lower my head, brushing my lips against her hair, whispering softly, almost possessively:

“Aap sirf humari ho… hum aapko kabhi chhodne wale nahi.”
(You are only mine… I will never let you go.)
God, how can someone be this peaceful after what we did last night?
But she was mine—all mine—until the sun rose and chased away the dark.

The silence breaks suddenly.
My phone vibrates against the wooden desk.
I don’t want to pull away, but duty calls.

Still holding her, I answer.

𝐃𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐥𝐬 𝐀𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐥 : 𝑨 𝑴𝒂𝒇𝒊𝒂 𝑫𝒂𝒓𝒌 𝑹𝒐𝒎𝒂𝒏𝒄𝒆 Where stories live. Discover now