Historias de Violenceandpassion

He strokes himself with his eyes closed, and there he is-laid out in front of him, thighs parted, skin slick with desire. He imagines his hand sliding up that throat, feeling the shiver rise under his palm before tightening just enough to draw a gasp. His mouth would follow-hungry-down that taut chest, licking, biting, until a rough moan spills out. He knows how that body would respond: the way the hips would lift, aching for more, when his tongue moves lower, so much lower, tasting that salty, trembling skin. And those eyes... those 𝒇𝒖𝒄𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈 eyes drowning in pleasure, staring back at him with that kind of yielding that would drag a growl from his chest. He sinks deeper into it-deeper into the vision-imagining his fingers there, buried to the knuckles, while the other writhes beneath him, lips swollen from begging too long.

Ruthless Vows: The Thakur Bride "Marry him, or Mumbai bleeds." Those were the exact words my father whispered before handing me over to a man with blood on his hands and a scar across his lip. Aryan Thakur - the city's most feared underworld king. Ruthless. Silent. Untouchable. He doesn't ask for things. He takes them. And he just took me as his bride. I wasn't prepared for the wedding. I wasn't prepared for his secrets. I definitely wasn't prepared to fall for the man who destroyed everything I once loved. Now I wear his name like a cage. Sleep in his bed like a warzone. And kiss him like I don't want revenge. But Aryan has rules. And I just broke the deadliest one of all. > Never touch the devil's heart... unless you're ready to watch it burn.