AUTHOR'S POV

It's been months since they got married.

And in those months... it felt like time had paused for them just them.

Their days started together, ended together. Work meetings turned into stolen glances. Lazy Sunday mornings were filled with coffee, shared laughter, and her head resting on his chest while his fingers absentmindedly played with her hair. Nights ended with kisses on her forehead and the soft promise of forever whispered against her skin.

Zain adored her.

He treated her like a rare piece of art—precious, delicate, irreplaceable.

He loved her with an intensity that could set the world on fire. A kind of love that made her feel seen. Protected. Worshipped. The way his eyes found her across a room full of people. The way he smiled, as if she was the only thing worth smiling for. The way he couldn't sleep unless she was tucked in beside him, her hand in his.

It was a fairytale.

No... even fairytales would shy away from calling this real.

But as some old soul once said,
"Joy is fleeting, and happiness, temporary. Because this is life—and nothing in life stays forever."

And just like that...
Even their perfect world began to crack.

The glow dimmed.

The warmth faded.

The smiles became fewer... the silence, heavier.

The love? Still there. But surrounded by shadows neither of them could explain.

Sarah began to feel it first.

That invisible ache.

She'd wake up with his arms around her—but still feel cold.

He still looked at her the same way—but she couldn't meet his eyes long enough.

Because her heart?

It was quietly shattering.

And Zain... he noticed.

But he didn't know how to fix it.

Because sometimes, love isn't enough to stop life from bleeding into happiness.

"Jaan, are you ready?"
Zain's voice echoed through the hallway as he stepped into their room, his tone light, playful—completely unaware of the storm waiting inside.

He entered with a soft smile, fixing the cuff of his shirt, expecting her to spin around and tease him about being late again.

But what he saw—

It wasn't her.

Sarah stood in front of the mirror, still... too still.

Her hands were frozen mid-motion, holding onto her dupatta like it weighed a hundred bricks. The reflection staring back at her wasn't the Sarah he had fallen in love with. No mischief in her eyes. No warmth in her smile.

Just... emptiness.

Those once-glowing eyes?
Now glassy and swollen, red rims giving away every single tear she had tried to hide.

Eyes that used to sparkle when he walked into the room... now looked like they had been screaming in silence for hours.

A face that once lit up every corner of the house—was pale. Drained. Hollow. Like a flame that had slowly, cruelly burned out.

She didn't say a word.

She didn't need to.

Because grief speaks loudest in silence.

Zain froze in his place, every playful cell in his body suddenly going numb. His heart stopped. He hadn't seen this Sarah before—not like this.

He took a step closer, voice dropping into something fragile.
"Sarah...?"

She blinked once, and that was all it took.

A single tear escaped—slipping down her cheek, painting her brokenness in the clearest ink.

She didn't try to wipe it away.

She was tired of pretending.

Tired of being strong.

And he... he just stood there. Staring. Hurting.

Because the woman he loved—the one he swore to protect from the world...

Was slowly falling apart.

The car came to a halt.

Zain reached over, gently placing his hand over Sarah's trembling fingers.

They were here.

Raghuvanshi Mansion.

The house that once echoed with Kritika's laughter... now sat in haunting silence, dressed in white sheets, jasmine garlands, and mourning.

The gates opened slowly, as if time itself was reluctant to let them in.

Inside, the living room had turned into a sea of pain.

In the center—Kritika's photo.

Framed in gold. Adorned with a fresh flower mala. Her smile—forever frozen in time.

The room smelled of incense and heartbreak.

Mantras floated through the air, soft and heavy, like whispers to the heavens.

People sat with folded hands, heads lowered—but no one could escape the weight of the loss that lingered in every breath.

Zain stayed close behind as Sarah walked in, her gaze instantly falling on Adi.

He was on the floor, knees pulled to his chest, hands clutching tightly to Kritika's dupatta like it was the last piece of her he had left.

His face...

God.

It looked like he hadn't slept in days.

His eyes were swollen. Lips chapped. His usually well-groomed self was now nothing but a shell of a man shattered by grief.

He stared at the floor—unmoving.

No tears.

No words.

Just stillness.

A kind of stillness that only comes from the guilt of watching the person you love die by your own hands.

"Adi..." Sarah whispered, crouching beside him.

He didn't move.

She placed a soft hand on his shoulder.

because at that time she can't do anything 
zain and everyone was trying to console him and saarah she was already so devasted but still was consoling kritika's cousins 

"Adi, please—say something...": zain said

He finally lifted his head.

And the moment their eyes met—he broke.

"I killed her..." he choked out, voice barely a whisper.
"It's my fault, zain... I— I took her away from me. I pulled the trigger. I saw the life leave her eyes and I—"

"Stop!" zain cried, cupping his face, his own tears now streaming.

"You didn't mean to—Adi, it wasn't you. It was fate... it was circumstances... it wasn't you."

But Adi only shook his head, violently.

"She trusted me. She LOVED me. And I... I gave her death."

He broke down.

Loud, raw sobs erupting from his chest, shaking his whole body.

Zain turned away, jaw clenched as he wiped his tears silently, unable to witness his friend's agony.

The mantras were coming to an end.

The priest tied the final threads of ritual, placing the last handful of sacred rice beside Kritika's photograph. Her picture now looked peaceful—surrounded by flickering diyas, silent prayers, and wilting petals that mirrored the sorrow in everyone's hearts.

Adi had gone quiet again.

Zain, standing in a corner, silently exchanged a look with one of the elders, then walked over to Sarah and gently whispered,
"Jaan... we should leave now. Let them rest. You need rest too."

Sarah looked at Adi once more—broken, breathless, hollow. She leaned down and pressed a soft kiss on his forehead.

"I'm here. Always."
She whispered.

Adi didn't reply, but a single tear rolled down his cheek—and Sarah knew he heard her.

Zain reached for her hand.

She stood up.

They both turned toward the photo one last time.

Kritika.

That wild, loud, beautiful girl with fire in her soul and stars in her laughter.

Gone.

And yet, somehow, still here.

Sarah joined her hands in a quiet dua, her lips trembling as she whispered a final prayer.

Zain placed a hand on her back protectively, guiding her out.

They walked toward the exit slowly, with heavy steps and heavier hearts.

As the mansion door shut behind them, the silence inside resumed. But a silence now filled with prayers, unsaid apologies, and a desperate longing for peace.

Outside – In the Car

The driver opened the backseat door.

Zain helped Sarah in gently, brushing a stray tear from her cheek before sliding in next to her. As the car pulled away from Raghuvanshi Mansion, Sarah leaned her head on his shoulder, her fingers tightly gripping his.

They didn't talk.

They didn't need to.

The road was long, quiet... and bathed in sunset.

Sometimes grief doesn't scream.

Sometimes, it just sits beside you—quiet, aching, but slowly healing.

As the Malik Villa gates opened, Zain leaned down and kissed her temple softly.

Months had passed since Kritika's death.

The house was no longer drowning in cries, but the silence had changed—it had turned hollow. Grief had faded into quiet, invisible shadows that clung to everyone and everything. The curtains moved. The meals were eaten. Life moved on. But the laughter?

It had gone missing.

Adi hadn't been the same. He moved like a ghost now, barely speaking, throwing himself into work and mafia duties—avoiding mirrors, memories, and especially emotions. The guilt was eating him alive, and no one could pull him out, not even Zain.

And Sarah?

Sarah wasn't Sarah anymore.

The girl who once snapped her sass like a whip, who made entire boardrooms fumble with her smirk and her presence—that girl had faded. She still worked. Still performed. But something in her had shut off. The sparkle in her eyes had dimmed. She smiled politely now. Laughed rarely. She was existing, not living.

Zain had noticed. Of course he had.

But even he had become distant. Not out of neglect, but because he was being pulled in every direction—managing the empire, the underworld, Adi's spiraling, and the gaping ache in his heart that Sarah wouldn't talk to him anymore like she used to.

They slept in the same bed.

But between them was a silence louder than thunder.

saarah too started going for long buisness trips as she was running from everyone and can't face anyone 

The city lights shimmered like glass tonight.

The ballroom was buzzing—champagne pouring, fake laughter echoing off marble walls, and polished lies exchanged like business cards. It was one of those high-profile parties, meant more for showing off than actual deals.

Sarah stood quietly in the farthest corner, draped in a sharp black suit. Tailored to perfection, paired with killer heels. Her face was hidden behind a black lace mask, only her eyes visible—cold, unreadable. Her friend beside her whispered jokes, but Sarah barely smiled.

She wasn't here to enjoy. Just to attend, observe, and vanish.

She didn't even want to be here. But it was business.

It always was.

And then she saw him.

Zain.

Her breath caught for a second.

Even after all these months, even after the silence, the distance, the ache—he still made her heart forget how to beat. Standing there in a crisp navy suit, his watch gleaming, his jaw clenched, his brows slightly drawn like something was on his mind.

Was it her?

But no. He didn't see her.

Not yet.

Her heart ached to go to him. Hug him. Just talk.

But she didn't.

Because she wasn't Sarah, not tonight.

She was someone else.

And Zain wasn't looking at her. His eyes scanned the crowd carefully, sharply... then locked onto something.

For a moment, Sarah panicked.

Did he recognize me?

But no.

She followed his gaze... and saw him looking at her 

they are here for the search of ....

La Nora Rose.

The twins the underworld whispered about. Dangerous. Elusive. And the reason Sarah was here undercover.

Suddenly, the air shifted.

A tray of drinks passed through the crowd.

A tall, unfamiliar waiter handed two glasses—one each to Zain and Adi.

Sarah watched with narrowed eyes.

Something felt off.

The waiter's hands trembled. His eyes darted. And Sarah—who'd learned to read the smallest signs—knew it.

The drinks were spiked.

Before she could make a move, before she could warn them—

They drank.

Just a sip... and she saw it.

Zain blinked. Frowned. Shook his head.

Shit.

She stepped forward slightly, pulse racing.

But then paused.

They were already surrounded by unknown men. Arms on their shoulders, soft smiles masking firm grips. No one else in the party noticed—just another group laughing.

Sarah turned to her friend.

"We need to go. Now."

"But—"

"Now."

Without a sound, she disappeared into the shadows.

Because she couldn't blow her cover.

She couldn't risk getting caught.

But as she exited the hall, her heart was thundering in her chest.

She knew something bad was coming.

And she was right.

Because barely minutes after she left...

Zain and Adi never walked out of that party.

They were gone.

Just vanished.

Like they never existed.

And Sarah?
She was the only one who knew something was wrong.
Terribly, dangerously wrong.

The dim light flickered overhead—like even it was scared to stay on for too long.

Zain groaned, his head pounding as if a war had broken loose inside his skull. His neck ached as he tried to move, only to feel the harsh grip of ropes digging into his arms and chest. A cold metal chair beneath him, damp walls, and the faint metallic smell of blood—it was clear:

They were not in some regular basement.

He blinked rapidly, trying to adjust to the dark surroundings. Beside him, he heard a low whimper.

Adi.

Tied the same way. Bleeding from his lip. His eyes swollen red—not just from the hit, but from something deeper.

Grief.

"Adi..." Zain's voice was hoarse, but steady. "You with me?"

Adi looked up weakly and nodded once. His jaw clenched, eyes still hollow from Kritika's death. A ghost of a man who hadn't truly breathed since that night.

The metal door creaked open.

Boots. Laughter. A presence that reeked of arrogance.

And then walked in Rajbir.

Wearing a suit like he was walking a runway, not a dungeon. His smile curled like poison. His eyes—void of remorse.

"Awake already?" Rajbir said, clicking his tongue mockingly. 

"Didn't even get to serve breakfast yet."

Zain's eyes narrowed. "If you want a head start on your funeral, keep talking."

Rajbir laughed.

"Oh Zain, always the hero. Always ready with that mouth." He turned to Adi. 

"But this one... this one's my favorite."

Adi stayed quiet, breathing hard through his nose.

"You know, Aditya," Rajbir drawled, circling them like a predator. 

"When I heard what happened to Kritika, I thought—how poetic."

Zain yanked at his ropes. "Don't you dare bring her name into this!"

But Rajbir kept going, bending slightly toward Adi now.

"Your wife... that poor, beautiful thing," he whispered cruelly. 

"And the best part? You did it. You pulled the trigger."

Adi's head snapped up.

"Shut. Up."

Rajbir chuckled. "You want to know what her last words were?"

Zain's voice rose, rough and warning, "I swear, Rajbir, you won't leave this room alive—"

Rajbir turned slowly to Zain.

"Oh, I don't plan to. Not without a grand finale."

And then it happened.

He pulled out a gun.

Black. Cold. Loaded.

He aimed it at Adi's head.

"No—" Zain jerked forward, fury in every vein.

Rajbir smirked darkly. "Time to send him to his wife."

Bang.

The sound cracked through the warehouse like lightning.

But it wasn't Adi who fell.

Because right at that moment, two roaring bikes tore through the shadows—slicing through the silence with tires screeching and headlights blazing like the wrath of gods. They circled around Zain and Adi, trapping them in a vortex of smoke, rubber, and raw vengeance.

Rajbir stumbled, startled. "What the hell—?!"

Pop-pop!

One biker, clad in full black from head to toe, aimed and shot straight at Adi's chair, the bullet splitting the rope that held him captive. Then another shot—Zain's restraints fell apart too. Both men leapt to their feet, dazed but ready.

From behind their masks, the bikers moved with military precision.

One shot at Rajbir's men—no kills, just precise shots that hit thighs, shoulders, kneecaps. Every bullet landed where it would disable, not destroy. Painful, yes. Permanent, definitely. His men dropped like dominoes—some screaming, others unconscious, all useless.

Rajbir barely had time to react when a bullet ripped through his gun hand, making him howl and collapse to his knees.

The two bikers didn't speak. They let their bullets do the talking.

And then—

Sirens.

Blazing red and blue lights splashed through broken windows. Police vans screeched to a halt outside.

Uniformed officers stormed in.

"Freeze! Hands in the air!"

The injured men were cuffed and dragged like rag dolls. Rajbir, still clutching his bleeding hand, was the last to be arrested—his face contorted in rage and disbelief.

Zain and Adi stood watching, still catching their breath.

Then, they turned to their mysterious saviors. The two bikers stood calmly by their rides. Sleek black helmets. Backs straight. Silent.

Zain squinted.

Something about the bikes. The logo on them.

La Nora Rose.

The name made his eyes widen.

"You... you're the Black Rose?" Adi said, voice rough. "Who are you? Why are you helping us?"

The two bikers looked at each other.

A quiet nod.

And then—slowly—they removed their helmets.

Hair spilled out first. Long, damp with sweat, curling slightly at the ends.

And when their faces came into view—Zain's world stopped.

"No f*ing way..."**

His mouth fell open.

So did Adi's.

Because in front of them stood Saarah and Kritika.

Alive. Armed. And absolutely unbothered.

Their queens.

Their rescuers.

The women they would've burned the world for... just lit it up for them.

Then Kritika walked forward, her black boots echoing sharply on the dusty floor. She stood in front of Rajbir, who was barely conscious, whimpering in pain as he knelt on the floor.

She crouched down to his eye level.

And whispered—cold as ice, sharp as a blade—

"How dare you touch my husband with your filthy hands?"

She stood again and turned to the others. "Let this be a message to anyone who thinks hurting our family won't come with consequences."

Every officer, every injured thug, even the police—stood frozen. No one spoke.

Adi took a step forward, his eyes red, chest heaving.

"Kritika..."

She looked at him, and the mask of steel shattered into emotion. Her eyes welled with tears as she dropped her helmet and ran to him. He caught her in his arms like he'd never let go again.

"I thought I lost you," he choked.

She sobbed against his chest. "I had to disappear. They would've killed you too... I couldn't risk it."

He pulled back and kissed her—hard, desperate, full of months of heartbreak, guilt, and love.

Zain stood a few steps away, still processing.

His wife. Saarah. The same girl who sassed him into sanity. Who blushed when he looked at her too long. Who kissed his scars like they were poetry.

She was La Nora Rose.

The most feared mafia syndicate in the underground world.

She walked toward him slowly. Calm. Steady. Like this was just another night.

"Still angry?" she smirked.

Zain blinked. "I think I'm in love with you all over again."

She laughed softly and pulled him into a hug.

"Good. Because this is just the beginning."

Kritika turned to the others, her voice bold and proud. "We are La Nora Rose—the Black Rose. We created this group to help the innocent, to destroy devils like Rajbir, and to burn moleholes into the heart of the mafia. But we never killed the innocent. We protect them."

Zain's eyes didn't move from his wife's face.

"All this time... you were living double?"

Saarah smirked, her eyes sparkling. "I wasn't living double, jaan. I was just waiting for the right moment to show you all of me."

Before either woman could say anything more, Zain lifted a hand and shook his head.

"Nope. I can handle only one plot twist at a time," he said, eyes wide and dazed.

Everyone burst into laughter.

They all sat in the living room. The tension had faded into comfort, but the silence was filled with curiosity. The truth was ready to spill.

Kritika took a deep breath. "You deserve to know everything now."

She turned to Adi. "That night... when you thought I died, it was staged. I had to vanish. If I hadn't, they would've killed you too. It was the only way to protect you."

Saarah added, "And I knew. I helped her. I acted like I didn't know anything... just to protect both of you. And to find the real enemy."

Zain and Adi were speechless.

Kritika continued, "Five years ago, we were assigned a mission. We're not just mafia princesses—we're La Nora Rose. Our mission was to investigate Zain Malik and Aditya ray raghuvanshi  Because there was word spreading that... you two were running a women trafficking ring."

"What?!" Zain's voice thundered.

"But we found out quickly it wasn't you," Saarah said. "You were innocent. Someone was using your names. Framing you. That's when we decided to stay. We wanted to dig deeper... and protect you without blowing our cover."

Kritika smiled softly. "But then... we fell in love. Everything changed."

The room was quiet again—but now filled with awe.

Zain leaned back and exhaled. "So... all this time, you were living a double life."

Saarah smirked. "Wouldn't be the first secret I kept from you."

Zain laughed, a mix of disbelief and admiration in his eyes. "I really married a storm in disguise."

Saarah winked. "And you love every second of it."

Hours later...

Zain and Saarah returned to Malik Villa. Adi and Kritika, after meeting Kritika's emotional parents at Malhotra Mansion, left for Raghuvanshi Mansion.

But at Malik Villa...

The villa was silent, moonlight spilling in from the grand window. Zain walked in first, jaw clenched, jacket flying onto the chair. Saarah entered behind him, quietly, unsure whether to speak or stay silent.

He didn't look at her. He was too still. Too quiet.

That silence? It was louder than any screaming.

She took a step forward. "Zain—"

"Don't," he said, voice low.

She paused.

"I trusted you with everything I had," he muttered, finally turning to face her. His eyes burned—not with hatred, but with hurt. "And you were out there—living a whole other life. As a damn mafia queen."

Saarah's throat tightened. "I wanted to tell you, I—"

He stepped closer. "But you didn't."

"I had to protect—"

"Me?" he scoffed. "Don't give me that 'I did it for you' nonsense, Saarah. You knew how much I hate secrets. How much I crave honesty. You let me fall for someone you were only half showing me."

Her eyes stung.

He took another step, so close she could feel the heat radiating off him.

"You wore a mask, Saarah. All this time. While I gave you every unfiltered piece of me."

She dropped her gaze.

But then—Zain cupped her chin and tilted her face up, his touch rough, eyes fierce.

"You think I'm angry because you're dangerous? You think I'm mad because you've got a gun and a gang and a title in the underworld?"

He leaned closer, voice dropping to a breath near her lips.

"I'm mad... because you didn't trust me enough to stand beside you in it."

Her heart was racing.

"You were mine, completely. But now I realise—I was never yours. Not fully. You never gave me that chance."

"I was scared," she whispered, "scared to lose you if you saw that side of me."

He laughed once—bitter, aching. "And now? After knowing everything, guess what?"

She looked up at him.

"I still want you. Desperately. Madly. Obsessively."

She gasped as he suddenly pushed her gently but firmly back—her spine meeting the cold wall. His hands caged her in.

"But now," he growled, "you're going to pay for keeping those secrets..."

"How?" she asked, breathless.

Zain's voice darkened, seductive. "By letting me claim every inch of the woman you've kept hidden from me."

He kissed her then—not soft. Not slow. But hungry. Like he was devouring the lies, punishing the silence, kissing the truth out of her lips.

She whimpered into the kiss. He grabbed her waist, pulling her flush against him.

"You want to play secrets?" he whispered, lips against her skin. "Then let's play. But tonight—you don't get to keep anything from me. Not even a single breath."

And then he picked her up—her gasp echoing in the room—as he carried her to their bed, his storm of anger melting into fire.

Because Zain Malik didn't forgive easily...

But he loved harder.

Zain's hands didn't tremble.
But hers did.
Not from fear... but from the way his gaze pierced her soul like a dagger dipped in fire.

He laid her gently on the bed—but there was nothing gentle in his touch as he hovered above her, eyes flickering with everything he felt but couldn't say.

"You don't get to lie to me," he murmured, brushing his thumb down her throat, "and then just expect me to hold you like nothing happened."

Saarah swallowed, her chest rising rapidly beneath him. "Then don't hold me."

He smirked darkly. "Oh no, sweetheart. I said you don't get it easy. I never said I won't take what's mine."

She gasped as his lips crashed into hers again—hot, bruising, punishing. He kissed her like he needed to rewrite every memory she made without him.

With every bite to her lips...
With every grip on her skin...
He was taking back what she'd kept hidden.

Her jacket was gone. His shirt followed. Skin met skin, fire meeting wildfire.

"You think you can keep a life like that from me and still sleep in my arms?" he asked between kisses, voice husky and raw. "Still kiss me like I'm your only truth?"

"I was trying to protect—"

"Don't you dare say 'protect,' Saarah," he growled, flipping her over with one hand, her back now against his chest. "You don't protect me from you. You give me you."

She moaned softly as his hand gripped her waist, pulling her closer. Her breath hitched when his lips brushed down the side of her neck.

"I needed to see you like this," he whispered. "Vulnerable. Real. No mask. No 'Black Rose'. Just my wife."

"And if that version of me is messy?" she breathed, eyes fluttering shut.

He kissed the back of her shoulder slowly, reverently. "Then I'll get dirty with you."

His fingers found hers and pinned them to the mattress as his lips danced across her spine.

"You're not getting away with a single lie tonight," he said, voice trembling slightly now. "Not one. I'll burn through every secret until all that's left is us."

And when their eyes met again—there was no anger left.

Only longing.
Only love.
Only two souls who had lied for the right reasons... and now, ached to tell the truth through touch.

"You belong to me," Zain whispered, voice cracking with emotion as he kissed her again—slower this time, deeper. "All of you. The sweet... the sinner... the savage."

Saarah cupped his face, lips trembling. "Then claim me, Zain. Every piece you missed..."

He did.

And in that night—between kisses that stole apologies, and touches that rewrote every betrayal—they fell again. Not as the man and woman they pretended to be.

But as the two warriors who finally stood bare... and chose to love anyway.

The room smelled like rain, sweat, and him.

Zain.

My Zain.

I was beneath him—completely bare, stripped of every layer of clothing and lies. The silk sheets clung to my skin, cool and soft, but nothing compared to the heat of his mouth on my body.

He wasn't rushing.
He wasn't desperate.
He was... worshipping.

His lips brushed against my collarbone, slow and reverent, like he was memorizing the story written in my skin.

I arched slightly beneath him, breath caught in my throat as his mouth travelled lower, pressing kisses down the valley between my breasts—pausing, whispering words I couldn't hear but felt echo inside me.

He wasn't just kissing me.
He was... reclaiming me.

"You think hiding this part of your life made me love you any less?" he whispered, his lips grazing my ribs.

I couldn't speak.

All I could do was feel.

His hands explored me with a possessiveness I'd never seen before—like he was searching for pieces of me I had hidden even from myself. His mouth traced over every inch of my body like it belonged to him.

And it did.
It always did.

"I hate that you had to carry it alone," he said, voice breaking slightly as he kissed the scar near my waist—one I never told him about. "But you're not alone anymore. Not now. Not ever again."

Tears slipped down my cheeks, hot and silent.

And still, he kissed them too—moving up, until his lips met mine again.

"I'm yours," I whispered against his mouth. "Every scar, every lie, every truth. Yours."

His forehead touched mine, breath heavy. "And I'll love you through all of it."

And just like that, his body melted into mine again—warm, strong, familiar.

My breath hitched as his hand slid higher.

"Zain..." I murmured, but even I didn't know whether I was begging him to stop... or to keep going.

He dipped his head and his mouth grazed the inside of my knee — slowly trailing upward. "You don't get to keep secrets from me and walk away without consequences, jaan."

My fingers dug into the pillow.

I was already trembling.

The moment his lips met the insides of my thighs, heat surged through me like wildfire. I could feel my own wetness building — not just from his touch, but from the raw tension, the way he looked at me like I belonged to no one else but him.

And I did.

I was soaked — for him.
Because of him.
Every inch of me, desperate for his forgiveness, his love... him.

When his fingers slid between my legs, teasing, slow — he paused.

"You're already this wet for me?" His voice was dark silk. 

"Even when I should be furious at you?"

I turned my head away, cheeks flushed. "I didn't mean to hide. I was trying to protect—"

He silenced me with his mouth.

"Don't ever hide from me again," he said against my skin, voice rough and low.

 "You're mine. In truth. In lies. In every damn version of this life."

I cried his name.

And he kissed it into me.

Again.
And again.
Until there was nothing left between us but sweat, skin, and the sound of everything we never said — finally being spoken.

"So wet for me huhh?" He smirked and gazed at my wet pussy. His fingers traveled on my clit and I opened my eyes in pleasure when he started rubbing his fingers on my clit.

"zai-in ahhh"

"So wet for me. Open your eyes, jaan, let me see your beautiful eyes when I put my dick inside your tempting pussy," When I opened my eyes I saw him looking straight at my soul.

"Can I use them?" He asked me showing his fingers.

I nodded and he slid his two fingers inside me and I screamed louder. I hold the bed sheets tightly.

"Don't hold that, Instead hold me. Dig your nails on my back. Mark me yours jaan like I will mark you mine today," He hovered over me making sure his fingers were moving inside me.

"Told you, your pussy was waiting for me. Look how good it is behaving with my fingers. You're so tight jaan. I wonder how they will behave if I put my dick inside you?" His unholy talk was just making me more turned on. He moved his fingers in and out of my hole making me moan .A loud scream left my mouth when his fingers hit my G-spot.

I am damn sure if this room wasn't sound proof everyone heard me moaning like a mess till now

"z-ain. It feels so good," He squeezed my breast and I never thought sex could be so amazing.

𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐰𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐠  saarah ! 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐬𝐞𝐱, 𝐢𝐭'𝐬 𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞.

My inner mind mocked me. He pulled his finger and started licking it like that was a damn meal.

"Ahmm so amazing.I should taste you with my mouth also, what do you say?" He asked me while his fingers again moved to my clit, his thumb pressed my clitoris and I rolled my eyes.

"Tell me?" I nodded as I wasn't able to speak a word.

"Words darling"

"Y-yes,"I said panting and Within no time, zain is in between my legs.

"Open your legs jaan," He put his both hands on my legs, keeping them in his shoulders. I threw my head back when I felt his tongue on my wet core. He started licking it.

"Not only your lips but your pussy also tastes like mine," My eyes were shut but I opened them when he sucked on my clit.

"Fuck zain," I couldn't complete my sentence when I felt a knot tightening in my stomach. I know I was close to

"ahh I-i am c-close," I whispered somehow.

I tried to close my leg but zain's hold was tight enough to not let me move

"Don't do that. I want you to come on my tongue," A scream echoed in our room as hot liquid slid down my pussy but zain began to lick it off.

"Look how tasty you are. Fuck jaan," His other lick made me moan like a mess.

"Ahhh this is so good"

"Now think what will happen when I slid my dick inside your wet pussy," He sat straight and I closed my legs.

Hovering over me, he separated my legs with his hands.

"Should I jaan? My dick is dying to fuck you so harder that you moan like a mess under me whole night," Million of butterflies again took flight in my tummy hearing his unholy talks.

I nodded. He opened the packet of condoms and slid his dick inside it.

He placed himself on my entrance. I know it hurts but I am prepared. I dug my nails deeper into his back when he pulled into me. This pain is too much and unbearable.

"It will hurt for a while and then it will get better jaan," He let me adjust to him. He kissed me and when I nodded he slowly began to move. The pain was slowly turning into a pleasure.

"Better?"I nodded since I was not in a condition to speak. He increased the pace and I tears rolled down from corner of my eyes.

"You like it?" I didn't answer him anything so he almost pulled out and thrust back in one go.

"Answer me jaan?" A moan left my mouth making him smirk.

"I loved it zain, this is the better thing that happened to me,"

"The best answer I could ever get"

"Do you know how gorgeous you are looking under me? Your hazel brown eyes and tempting plumpy lips. You are my queen jaan" He said and I parted my lips to whisper

"zain fuck me hard," He began to thrust and at same time began to suck on my left breast and squeeze another one. Every time he thrust. I could feel myself in heaven.

"zain I-i am coming"

He lifts his face to say. "Wait for me jaan, I want you to come with me,"

"za-in please"

"Tell me who you belong to?" He asked me.

I wasn't in a condition to answer.

"Tell me jaan," He said as he thrust harder inside me and spank on my butt. I moaned his name before saying

"To Y-you"

"Good girl"

"Come for me, jaan," The moment he said these words, I came with him.The orgasm was so strong that I could feel myself shaking and panting hard.

I threw my head on the pillow before closing my eyes. I just wanted to sleep now.

"Not now jaan, We have whole night for it" He whispered before thrusting inside me again

He went for god knows how much round until I pass out.

𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐭'𝐬 𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐓𝐨𝐝𝐚𝐲!

HOW'S THE CHAPTER?

ARE YOU GUYS EXCITED FOR WHAT'S HAPPENING NEXT .....

DID YOU LIKE THE SMUT , I hope I didn't disappoint you too much. This was actually my first time writing something like this, and honestly, my best friend helped me with it too. I know you all have probably read way hotter and better-written smuts before — but I gave it my best shot. I'll definitely keep learning and improving from here.

anyways ... are you guys ready for upcoming twists? 
the twist which will really twist you ?
get ready for the upcoming emotional roller coaster 

let's see what's destiny planning for them.

𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐲 𝐒𝐚𝐟𝐞

𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐀𝐥𝐥❤