[Mature content ]
Reyansh leaned in, his nose brushing against her temple. He inhaled deeply, as if he were memorizing her scent. "Because your pulse is racing, Myra. It's hitting my palm like a trapped bird. You aren't hungry for food. You're hungry for the same thing I am."
Before she could protest, he swept her up. Myra let out a soft gasp, her hands instinctively flying to his shoulders to steady herself. He carried her toward the master suite, his stride long and purposeful.
He didn't put her on the bed. He pressed her back against the closed mahogany door, his body a wall of heat pinning her in place
"I... I belong to myself," she tried to say, but it came out as a breathless whimper.
Reyansh chuckled, a dark, vibrating sound. He leaned down, his lips grazing the sensitive skin of her shoulder, right where her dress had slipped. "Liar. Last night you were a mistake. Tonight, you're a choice. My choice."
"Ruin me," she whispered against his lips, repeating the words from the club.
The sexual tension between them were too much to ignore
His hands found the zipper of her dress, the sound of it sliding down loud in the silent room. Myra's breath hitched. She should stop him. She should walk out. But the memory of Arjun's betrayal flashed in her mind—the coldness, the feeling of being unwanted
Her dress fell down on the floor that make her whole face red
She reached up, her fingers tangling in his dark hair, pulling him down to her. The kiss was explosive—a battle of wills that she was destined to lose. He tasted of whiskey and victory.
Reyansh pulled back just an inch, his gaze burning into hers. "I intend to, Princess. By the time I'm done with you, you won't even remember your own name
The air in the room vanished as Reyansh's lips reclaimed hers, harder and more demanding than before. He was no longer just the boss who had signed her papers; he was the man who had claimed her soul in the dark.
His hands, large and calloused, roamed over her bare skin, mapping out the curves of her waist as if he were memorizing a blueprint. Myra's skin felt like it was on fire, a sharp contrast to the cool mahogany door still pressed against her back.
He broke the kiss, his breathing ragged, and moved down to her neck. His teeth grazed the column of her throat, sending sparks of electricity through her entire frame. "You're shaking, Myra," he murmured against her skin, his voice a low, dangerous growl. "Is it fear... or anticipation?"
"Both," she confessed, her head falling back against the door.
Reyansh knelt before her, his eyes never leaving hers. The transition was fluid, predatory. With a smirk that promised both heaven and havoc, he used his teeth to catch the edge of the delicate lace covering her. The sensation was raw and primal, stripping away the last of Myra's defenses.
When the final barrier fell to the floor, joining her dress in a heap of forgotten silk, Myra felt a wave of vulnerability—until she saw the look in Reyansh's eyes. It wasn't just lust; it was a dark, obsessive worship.
Arjun was a boy who didn't know what he had," Reyansh rasped, rising back up to his full, intimidating height. He hooked his arms under her thighs, lifting her effortlessly as he carried her the final few steps to the bed. "I am a man who takes exactly what he wants. And right now... I want all of you."
The cool air of the room hit Myra's bare skin, but the heat radiating from Reyansh was enough to keep her burning. As he stood over her, his own clothes discarded, his silhouette against the Mumbai skyline was a masterpiece of raw, masculine power.
Myra looked up at him, her pulse thrumming in her throat. She didn't want to be the one who was just "taken." She wanted to own a piece of this man, the same way he was trying to own her.
Reaching out, she wrapped her fingers around his wrist and pulled him closer to the edge of the bed. Reyansh let out a low, questioning growl, his dark eyes narrowing as he watched her.
"You said you wanted to ruin me, Reyansh," she whispered, her voice gaining a sudden, bold edge. "But maybe I want to be the one who ruins your composure first."
She moved with a newfound confidence, kneeling on the silk sheets. As she took his deck into her mouth, Reyansh's entire body went rigid. His hands flew to her hair, his fingers tangling in the dark tresses, gripping her with a sudden, desperate intensity
A choked sound—somewhere between a groan and a curse—escaped his lips. This was the "Ice King" of Mumbai, the man who controlled billions, losing his grip on reality because of her
"Myra..." he rasped, his head falling back, his jaw tight as he fought for control. "You have no idea what you're doing to me."
The tension in the room snapped like a high-voltage wire. As Myra continued, Reyansh's composure—the legendary "Ice King" persona he wore like armor—crumbled completely. His breath came in harsh, jagged hitches, and his knuckles turned white where he gripped the edge of the headboard.
Suddenly, a low, guttural groan ripped from his chest. He lost the battle for control, his body tensing with a violent finality. As he reached his peak, the intensity of it left them both breathless, marking the end of their silent power struggle for the night
But Reyansh wasn't finished.
While the heat of the moment still hung heavy in the air, his hands moved with a sudden, possessive hunger. He reached out, his fingers finding the soft peaks of her breasts, pressing and rolling her nipples with a firm, demanding pressure that made Myra's back arch off the bed.
"Gasp for me, Princess," he rasped, his voice sounding like gravel over velvet.
Myra clawed at the air, her lungs burning as she struggled to find breath. The combination of the release and his sudden, sharp touch sent a new wave of sensation crashing over her. Every nerve ending in her body felt raw, exposed, and entirely under his command
The room was sweltering, the air conditioning unable to compete with the sheer heat radiating between their bodies. Reyansh looked down at the silk sheets beneath her—darkened and damp, a physical testament to how much her body had betrayed her heart
A dark, satisfied smirk touched his lips. "Look at what I do to you, Myra," he murmured, his voice thick with a possessive pride. "You're a lake of fire."
Before she could find her voice, he surged forward. He buried his face in the soft curves of her chest, his mouth capturing one aching peak. The sensation of his hot, wet tongue and the sharp, rhythmic pull of his suction sent a bolt of pure electricity straight to the core of her.
Then Reyansh started kissing her agagai