Until We Meet

Until We Meet

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WpMetadataNoticeLast published Tue, Jun 9, 2020
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Fiction
Romance
"I'm Ajiya Imran and I'm a........ murder." She walks in with a knife in her hand. "You are joking?" "Do you still think that?" She threw the knife which stuck in the wooden wall, exactly above his shoulder. She came to him and stood in front of him. "Don't play with me, I've played more than you." He laughed and took the knife, holding it near her jawline. "Then it will be fun, I've record of winning every game I'd ever played." ******** How will the story be when it starts from the lie and moving toward the web of lies?
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#264
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"A-Aryan..." her voice trembled, breath uneven. I smirked. "Miss me, butterfly?" Her body was taut, shaking, but not from the cold. Her hands pressed against my chest, pushing, resisting. Weak. "Let me go," she whispered. I didn't move. "Why?" "You-" her voice cracked. "You killed him." My smirk didn't waver. Her throat bobbed as she swallowed. "You're not just a businessman. You're a murderer." I tilted my head. "And?" Her breath hitched. "And? That's all you have to say?" "What else do you want, Siya?" I murmured, brushing my thumb against her pulse. "An apology?" Her eyes darkened with rage. "You don't even regret it." I chuckled. "No." __________________________________ "What do I want?" His voice was low, edged with something dark. "I thought that was obvious." I held my ground, refusing to back away even as he stopped mere inches from me. "Say it," I challenged. He exhaled a quiet chuckle, his eyes roaming my face before locking onto mine. "I want you, Siya." My breath caught. Not because of his words-I had known it from the start-but because of the way he said them. Not a request. Not a plea. A statement. Like it was inevitable. Like I was already his. I forced my chin up, summoning every ounce of defiance in me. "You don't own me, Aryan." _____________ Mature content⚠️

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