From contract to ishq - Chapter 6: Chapter 6

The next morning, Minahil woke to the sound of Yaram moving in the bathroom. The clock read 6:00 AM. she found a comb in her purse and stood at the dresser, trying to look presentable when Yaram walked in, naked except for a towel around his hips, drying his hair.She froze, watching him in the mirror.
His eyes searched the bed, then found her, clashing with her gaze before noticing her clothes, like armor shielding her.
He hooked the towel tighter and stalked toward her, his hands landing on her shoulders.
She felt his erection press against her through the towel.
“Good. Tum tayyar ho.”Her eyes stung at the comment, dropping from his.He continued.
“Hum tumhare ghar se fresh kapre lenge, phir airport.”She lifted her gaze. “Airport?”
“Haan. Hum Islamabad jaa rage hai.”
“Kyun?” Confusion laced her voice.“Kyun Kiya lagta hai?” he bit back.Realization hit her.
“Mein is weekend Islamabad mein aapse se nikaah nahi kar rahi, agar aap yeh soch rahe ho to.”
“Yes--you are!.” His confidence was unshakable.
“Nahi, mei. nahi kar rahi,” she argued.“Kyun nahi?”
“Itna jaldi hai sab kuch. Mujhe sochne ke liye time chahiye.”
“Kya sochna hai?” Impatience crept in. “Aapni life ke bare mein. Kya aapki life mei mere liye koi importance hai? Ya aapko meri feelings ki koi parwah nahi?”
“Mujhe parwah hai, Minahil. Yeh arrangement tumhare liye bhi acha hoga. Tumhein paiso ki zarurat hai, aur tum jawan ho. Is waqt do saal baad koi farq nahi padega. Tum yeh arrangement debt-free chorogi, bank mein paisa hoga. University ja sakti ho, degree ke liye.” His eyes bored into her.
“Tumne kabhi bachelor’s degree ke bare mein socha hai?”
Anger surged at his tone, but she held her tongue about her hidden degree. “Haan, socha hai.”
“Good. Koi rok nahi hai phir. Mein fees doonga.” He crossed his arms. “Mein nahi chahta ke sirf mera faida ho. Tumhein bhi kuch milna chahiye.”
“O--ok .”
“Islamabad Jana Hai ? Nikaah SE koi problem nai?”
“Hmm.” Her voice dripped with defiance.He pinched her chin again. “Itna gussa kyun?”
“Kyunki aap apni marzi kar rahe hai.”
“Haan, kar raha hoon.” Smirking, he kissed her forehead, possessive.
In Islamabad, the nikaah was simple, held at a small mosque with two witnesses and a trusted maulvi. Minahil wore a modest cream lehenga, her dupatta draped carefully, while Yaram was in a tailored sherwani.
The ceremony was quick, their vows binding them in front of Allah. Minahil’s heart raced—not from love, but from the weight of what she’d agreed to.
The hotel room was hushed, the air thick with anticipation as Yaram carried Minahil to the bed.
He laid her down on the crisp, cool sheets, her cream lehenga shimmering under the soft glow of the bedside lamp. With a hungry edge to his movements, he tried to take her clothes off.
She tried to stop him" yeh aap Kiya rahe hai. Mei ye sab abhi nai chahti!."
She was scared of his intense gaze, like he wanted to devour her and it scared her.
"Hmari shadi ho gai hai. Mei apna haq le Raha Hun." He growled.
Seeing her scared, he tried to control his emotions and tried a gentle approach.
"Jaan don't worry I won't hurt you. I will be gentle, Hmm."
She knew that he will not stop even if she argue so she told him."I am scared." His features becomes soft and tried to assure her. " Ok, Mei araam se Karun GA."
Seeing her shoulders relax, he slid her dupatta off, letting it pool on the floor, and peeled the shirt and lehenga from her body, exposing her smooth, untouched skin.
His cock twitched, swelling against his clothes as he brushed her dark hair aside and pressed his lips to her neck, kissing and nipping at her flesh. The heat of his breath made her shiver, her body caught between nerves and a growing ache.
Minahil’s heart pounded—this was it, her first night as his wife. She sank into the pillows, her body trembling. The mattress creaked beneath them, the sheets cool against her flushed skin.
Yaram’s hands roamed—one cupping her breast through her lacey bra, kneading until her nipple hardened under his thumb, the other slipping between her thighs.
His thick fingers pressed against her panties, tracing her slit through the fabric, teasing her clit with slow, deliberate circles.
Pleasure sparked through her, sharp and electric, and she arched off the bed, her hips chasing his touch.Her sex throbbed, wet heat soaking through the cloth as he rubbed harder.
She gasped, her body trembling under the dual assault—his hand on her breast, his fingers working her below.
Yaram’s cock strained painfully, the sight of her writhing beneath him nearly undoing him. But he held back—this was her first time, and he wanted her dripping for him.
He unhooked her bra, tossing it aside, and latched his mouth onto her breast, sucking her nipple hard. His tongue flicked over the sensitive bud, and Minahil moaned, her fingers digging into the sheets.
He didn’t stop there. Trailing kisses down her stomach, he tugged her panties off, leaving her bare on the bed. Her skin glowed, her thighs trembling as he spread them wide. Kneeling between her legs, he parted her slick folds, her clit swollen and begging for him.
He dove in, his tongue lashing against her, teeth grazing just enough to make her jolt. “Yaram!” she cried, her hands flying to his hair, gripping tight as he devoured her.
His finger slipped inside, curling against her tight walls, and the combination—his mouth on her clit, his finger stroking deep—sent her spiraling. Her body seized, and with a sharp, shuddering moan, she came, her pussy clenching around him, hips bucking against his face.
Yaram groaned, her taste flooding his senses, his control hanging by a thread. His cock ached, desperate for release. He pulled back, taking his clothes off impatiently, guiding her hand to his erection.
“Mujhe Apne hath mei lo,” he rasped, voice raw with need. Minahil tried to wrap her fingers around his thick shaft, her hand trembling , her touch shy and unsure.
“I don't know how to--?” she whispered, her wide eyes locked on his.“Is trha karo” he growled, his hand over hers, teaching her.
He leaned down, kissing her fiercely, his tongue tangling with her as she pumped his cock. A few firm strokes, and he shattered, his seed spilling over her hand and onto the sheets, a guttural moan tearing from his throat.
He collapsed beside her, pulling her close, their breaths mingling in the charged air. But he wasn’t done.
His cock stayed hard, pressing against her thigh, his desire reignited by the sight of her—flushed, panting.
His hand slid down, cupping her mound, fingers teasing her entrance. “Tum meri ho, Minahil. Har tarah se.”Her pulse raced, fear and a war inside her. “O-ok,” she breathed, trembling.
Yaram shifted, settling between her legs again. He settled his cock at her entrance, the head nudging her slick, virgin folds. “Dard hoga thora, lekin mein dheere karunga,” he said, his tone softening despite the tension coiling in his body. She nodded, clutching his shoulders, waiting for the pain but he pushed in—slowly, carefully. Her tightness resisted, then gave way as he broke her barrier. She winced, a sting of pain flaring as a trickle of blood stained the sheet beneath her, marking her transition.
He froze seeing her blood, the caveman in him was thumping his chest, cherishing that she is his only.
Letting her adjust, his jaw tight with restraint.
“Theek ho?”
he asked, voice strained.
“Haan,”
she whispered, the pain easing into a strange, full ache.
She rocked her hips, because of fullness, and a flicker of pleasure bloomed. “Aahhh.”
That was all he needed. Yaram thrust deeper, slow at first, each stroke drawing a soft moan from her. Her pussy gripped him like a vice, hot and tight, driving him wild.
He kissed her hard, his tongue matching the rhythm of his hips. Minahil’s nails raked his back, her body rising to meet him, the pain fading into a building heat.
She felt him everywhere—his weight pinning her to the bed, his cock filling her, his scent wrapping around her.His control slipped.
He fucked her harder, faster, his cock plunging deep, hitting a spot that made her cry out. “Tum meri ho,” he snarled, primal.
“Ahh,--Yes!,” she gasped, teetering on the edge. One last thrust, and he came, spilling inside her, his cock pulsing as he groaned her name.
The heat of his release tipped her over, her second orgasm ripping through her, her pussy clenching tight around him.
They collapsed together, sweat-slick and spent, the sheets a tangled mess beneath them, the faint bloodstain a quiet testament to their union.Yaram pulled her into his arms, kissing her forehead. “Dard hua?”
“Thoda sa,” she murmured, tracing his chest. “Lekin ab sab theek hai.”
“Good.” He held her tighter, possessive and tender all at once.
“Ab tum meri ho. Hamesha ke liye.”Minahil nestled against him, her body humming, and let the moment sink in—raw, real, and theirs.