From contract to ishq - Chapter 5: Chapter 5
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Yaram’s pulse thundered as he recalled his question from moments ago: “Kya mein tumhein kiss kar sakta hoon?” Minahil’s earlier refusal had only stoked his desire, but her hesitant “Ok… lekin sirf ek kiss” now sent lust slamming through him, his cock hardening painfully.
Her cautious consent, made it all the more intense. He forced himself to kiss her slow .Minahil sit still on the sofa, her maroon kameez brushing him as she sat frozen beside him, her dupatta slipping. Yaram wrapped a steely arm around her waist to steady her, his muscles tensing. Her softness was electric, igniting him.
She sucked in a breath, as he bit her lip , her heart racing. His fingers pressed into her waist, rubbing the curve, then sliding to her butt, squeezing. Her breathing faltered, and she hadn’t even kissed him back.
She paused too long, and he growled, “Darr rahi ho?”
“Nahi.”
“Toh phir masla kya hai?”“K-koi masla nahi hai.”“Jaan, kiss me back otherwise I will this matter on my hands. Jaldi faisla karo.”
His voice sent shivers down Minahil’s spine, arousal clashing with nerves. She ached to press closer, but her modesty held her back.
Leaning in, He brushed his lips against the corner of her mouth, inhaling her addicting jasmine scent. It hit like a drug, her lips trembling.
He nipped softly, quivering. Minahil's body stiffened, her arm tightening, stealing her breath.He pulled back, licking his lips, tasting her. His heavy-lidded eyes locked on her mouth, his breath ragged.
He returned, sucking her bottom lip delicately.
Without warning, he grabbed her, lifting her effortlessly and made her straddled him, her hands on his shoulders, her lip still under his teeth.
She moaned softly, her thighs pressing against him, waves of sensation rushing through her. Pleasure surged through Yaram, his cock pulsating. Her breasts bounced against his chest, her heat searing through his shirt, sweat beading on his forehead.
He hadn’t deepened the kiss yet, and he was already unraveling.
Allah, yeh mujhe khatam kar degi, he thought, imagining her bare.
The first time would be quick—he couldn’t hold back.His hands gripped her hips, fighting to endure the hottest closed-mouth kiss he’d ever known.
He battled for control, seconds from ramming his tongue into her mouth.
One second. Two. Three…Minahil gasped as his tongue pushed in. His hands cupped her head, angling her for a kiss of raw lust.
Her belly tightened, senses overwhelmed as he took over. His tongue plunged, retreated, plunged again, mimicking something deeper.
At twenty-two, a virgin, she’d never been kissed. Being Muslim had kept her chaste, but she’d read about such kisses in novels, doubting their reality.
Now, she knew. Yaram was kissing her like he’d claim her fully, his tongue stiff, moving like he’d fuck her. It shattered her innocence.He consumed her, one hand holding her head, the other lifting her off his lap.
Flipping her onto the sofa, he pinned her, stealing her breath, his tongue relentless. Her legs parted, his hips settling between her thighs. If they were married, he’d be inside her.
His intensity promised a lover unlike any she could imagine, overwhelming her sheltered world.Gasping for air, she turned her face. His mouth moved lower, pushing past her kameez’s neckline to her breasts, kissing over her shirt.
Groaning, he took off her kameez and unhooked her bra , tossing it aside in an instant, and fastened his mouth on her nipple, sucking hard.
His hand cupped her other breast, thumb rubbing the hardened peak. The dual assault sent her spiraling, and she realized this was racing past a kiss. He wasn’t stopping, and—Allah forgive her—she was struggling to want him to.
His mouth worked her nipple, laving it with his rough tongue, sucking as if to consume her. He moved to the valley between her breasts, then her soft skin, devouring her, sucking until faint marks bloomed.
His hand pinched her other nipple, rolling it, the force teetering on pain but exhilarating.
He was dominating her, taking without giving. Minahil’s mind fragmented, soft moans escaping.
At her moan, he lifted his head, nostrils flaring, and kissed her again, drinking deeply. His hands moved to her shalwar’s drawstring, tugging with the same urgency as her kameez.
Panic surged through Minahil, her conscience snapping her back. She pushed at his hands, her voice trembling. “Nahi, Yaram, ruk jain. Hum nikaah se pehle yeh nahi kar sakte, yeh gunaah hai.”
Yaram froze, his hands stilling, his cock throbbing painfully. Her words hit like a bucket of cold water, but he shouldn't have lost control, he’d let desire cloud his judgment.
Breathing heavily, he pulled back, his eyes wild but softening. “Theek hai, jaan,” he rasped, forcing calm into his voice. “I won't do anything--.”He sat up, running a hand through his hair, his body screaming in protest. Minahil adjusted her kameez, her cheeks flushed, her breathing uneven. The air was thick with tension, but also a mutual understanding. They’d gone too far, but not past the point of no return. He stood, offering his hand, his voice gentler.
“Chalo, bedroom mein chalte hain. Bas araam karenge, kuch nahi karunga. Promise.”
Minahil hesitated, then took his hand, her trust in him fragile but present. He lifted her, carrying her soft weight in his arms, his mind focused on one thing: regaining control and ensuring she felt safe. He was stunned at himself. He’d always prided himself on restraint, on respecting boundaries. But with Minahil, he’d nearly crossed a line that mattered deeply to them both.
At thirty-five, he should’ve known better. She probably thought her cautious kiss experiment had spiraled, proving he couldn’t be trusted.He needed to set this right, to show her he could honor her values, starting now.Yaram shouldered into the master bedroom, setting her gently on the bed. The room was dimly lit, the sea’s glow filtering through the windows. He lay beside her, keeping a respectful distance, his arm resting lightly around her waist.
“Bas yahan let’s relax, okay?” he murmured, his voice soothing.
“Kuch nahi hoga, bas baat karenge.”
Minahil nodded, her body still trembling from the intensity, but she felt a strange comfort in his presence.
They lay there, the silence heavy but not uncomfortable, both grappling with what had almost happened and what it meant for their future.
Her cautious consent, made it all the more intense. He forced himself to kiss her slow .Minahil sit still on the sofa, her maroon kameez brushing him as she sat frozen beside him, her dupatta slipping. Yaram wrapped a steely arm around her waist to steady her, his muscles tensing. Her softness was electric, igniting him.
She sucked in a breath, as he bit her lip , her heart racing. His fingers pressed into her waist, rubbing the curve, then sliding to her butt, squeezing. Her breathing faltered, and she hadn’t even kissed him back.
She paused too long, and he growled, “Darr rahi ho?”
“Nahi.”
“Toh phir masla kya hai?”“K-koi masla nahi hai.”“Jaan, kiss me back otherwise I will this matter on my hands. Jaldi faisla karo.”
His voice sent shivers down Minahil’s spine, arousal clashing with nerves. She ached to press closer, but her modesty held her back.
Leaning in, He brushed his lips against the corner of her mouth, inhaling her addicting jasmine scent. It hit like a drug, her lips trembling.
He nipped softly, quivering. Minahil's body stiffened, her arm tightening, stealing her breath.He pulled back, licking his lips, tasting her. His heavy-lidded eyes locked on her mouth, his breath ragged.
He returned, sucking her bottom lip delicately.
Without warning, he grabbed her, lifting her effortlessly and made her straddled him, her hands on his shoulders, her lip still under his teeth.
She moaned softly, her thighs pressing against him, waves of sensation rushing through her. Pleasure surged through Yaram, his cock pulsating. Her breasts bounced against his chest, her heat searing through his shirt, sweat beading on his forehead.
He hadn’t deepened the kiss yet, and he was already unraveling.
Allah, yeh mujhe khatam kar degi, he thought, imagining her bare.
The first time would be quick—he couldn’t hold back.His hands gripped her hips, fighting to endure the hottest closed-mouth kiss he’d ever known.
He battled for control, seconds from ramming his tongue into her mouth.
One second. Two. Three…Minahil gasped as his tongue pushed in. His hands cupped her head, angling her for a kiss of raw lust.
Her belly tightened, senses overwhelmed as he took over. His tongue plunged, retreated, plunged again, mimicking something deeper.
At twenty-two, a virgin, she’d never been kissed. Being Muslim had kept her chaste, but she’d read about such kisses in novels, doubting their reality.
Now, she knew. Yaram was kissing her like he’d claim her fully, his tongue stiff, moving like he’d fuck her. It shattered her innocence.He consumed her, one hand holding her head, the other lifting her off his lap.
Flipping her onto the sofa, he pinned her, stealing her breath, his tongue relentless. Her legs parted, his hips settling between her thighs. If they were married, he’d be inside her.
His intensity promised a lover unlike any she could imagine, overwhelming her sheltered world.Gasping for air, she turned her face. His mouth moved lower, pushing past her kameez’s neckline to her breasts, kissing over her shirt.
Groaning, he took off her kameez and unhooked her bra , tossing it aside in an instant, and fastened his mouth on her nipple, sucking hard.
His hand cupped her other breast, thumb rubbing the hardened peak. The dual assault sent her spiraling, and she realized this was racing past a kiss. He wasn’t stopping, and—Allah forgive her—she was struggling to want him to.
His mouth worked her nipple, laving it with his rough tongue, sucking as if to consume her. He moved to the valley between her breasts, then her soft skin, devouring her, sucking until faint marks bloomed.
His hand pinched her other nipple, rolling it, the force teetering on pain but exhilarating.
He was dominating her, taking without giving. Minahil’s mind fragmented, soft moans escaping.
At her moan, he lifted his head, nostrils flaring, and kissed her again, drinking deeply. His hands moved to her shalwar’s drawstring, tugging with the same urgency as her kameez.
Panic surged through Minahil, her conscience snapping her back. She pushed at his hands, her voice trembling. “Nahi, Yaram, ruk jain. Hum nikaah se pehle yeh nahi kar sakte, yeh gunaah hai.”
Yaram froze, his hands stilling, his cock throbbing painfully. Her words hit like a bucket of cold water, but he shouldn't have lost control, he’d let desire cloud his judgment.
Breathing heavily, he pulled back, his eyes wild but softening. “Theek hai, jaan,” he rasped, forcing calm into his voice. “I won't do anything--.”He sat up, running a hand through his hair, his body screaming in protest. Minahil adjusted her kameez, her cheeks flushed, her breathing uneven. The air was thick with tension, but also a mutual understanding. They’d gone too far, but not past the point of no return. He stood, offering his hand, his voice gentler.
“Chalo, bedroom mein chalte hain. Bas araam karenge, kuch nahi karunga. Promise.”
Minahil hesitated, then took his hand, her trust in him fragile but present. He lifted her, carrying her soft weight in his arms, his mind focused on one thing: regaining control and ensuring she felt safe. He was stunned at himself. He’d always prided himself on restraint, on respecting boundaries. But with Minahil, he’d nearly crossed a line that mattered deeply to them both.
At thirty-five, he should’ve known better. She probably thought her cautious kiss experiment had spiraled, proving he couldn’t be trusted.He needed to set this right, to show her he could honor her values, starting now.Yaram shouldered into the master bedroom, setting her gently on the bed. The room was dimly lit, the sea’s glow filtering through the windows. He lay beside her, keeping a respectful distance, his arm resting lightly around her waist.
“Bas yahan let’s relax, okay?” he murmured, his voice soothing.
“Kuch nahi hoga, bas baat karenge.”
Minahil nodded, her body still trembling from the intensity, but she felt a strange comfort in his presence.
They lay there, the silence heavy but not uncomfortable, both grappling with what had almost happened and what it meant for their future.
End of From contract to ishq Chapter 5. Continue reading Chapter 6 or return to From contract to ishq book page.