TejRan - Arranged Love

🔅CHAPTER 39🔅

Hello guys. Mature content ahead.⚠️

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The storm's fury seemed to echo the tempest within them, the shutters rattling in time with their quickening breaths. Karan's voice, a raw whisper against the chaos, cut through the tension. 

"Tell me you want this. Tell me, and I’ll fuck you right here. Right now. No more waiting. No more running." His words were a challenge, a plea, his need for her a tangible force in the air between them. His breath, hot and urgent, ghosted across her skin, sending shivers down her spine.

Tejasswi's fingers, still tracing the stubborn line of his jaw, paused. The weight of the moment hung heavy, the silence vibrating with unspoken desire.

Her gaze, intense and searching, met his, her eyes reflecting the storm's wildness. Then, with a steadiness that belied the turmoil within, she spoke. "I want this. As much as you do."

Her words were barely a whisper, yet they carried the force of a declaration. Before Karan could respond, she acted, her lips crashing against his in a kiss that was both desperate and tender.

Her hands, trembling slightly, fumbled with the ties of his kurta, the damp fabric offering little resistance as she tugged it off his shoulders. The garment fell away, revealing his chest, a landscape of muscle and skin that she had only glimpsed before.

Her fingers, driven by a hunger she couldn't deny, explored the contours of his body. They traced the ridges of his abdomen, the hard planes of his chest, as if mapping the terrain of a man she was claiming as her own. Her touch was urgent, possessive, yet gentle, as if she feared he might disappear if she pressed too hard.

Karan, his breath coming in ragged gasps, pulled her closer, his hands tangling in her hair, holding her face captive as he deepened the kiss. His tongue, hot and insistent, dueled with hers, their mouths moving in a rhythm as old as time. The taste of him—salt and desire—sent a jolt of need through her, making her cling to him, her body pressing against his.

The storm raged on, its fury a backdrop to their own tempest. The shutters rattled, the wind howled, but inside, the only sounds were their labored breaths and the soft, urgent noises they made as their kisses grew more fervent. Tejasswi's saree, once a barrier, now felt like a hindrance, the wet fabric clinging to her skin, a reminder of the world outside their cocoon of desire.

With a swiftness born of desperation, Karan's hands moved to her waist, his fingers deftly untangling the intricate folds of her saree. The fabric slid to the floor, pooling at their feet, leaving her clad only in her blouse and petticoat. His gaze, dark and hungry, took in the sight of her, his breath catching at the sight of her bare midriff, the curve of her hips, the swell of her breasts.

"You're so beautiful," he murmured, his voice hoarse with need. His hands, large and calloused, cupped her face, his thumbs brushing away the damp tendrils of hair that clung to her cheeks. "I've wanted you for so long, baby. Wanted to touch you, taste you, feel you around me."

His words sent a shiver through her, a mix of desire and fear. She wanted this—wanted him—but the vulnerability of it all still scared her. Yet, as his lips found hers again, as his hands roamed her body, she knew there was no turning back. Not now. Not when the storm, both outside and within, had stripped away her defenses, leaving her bare and open.