From contract to ishq - Chapter 8: Chapter 8

Minahil stood frozen, her hand gripping the banister for support as her heart raced. Yaram rose from the armchair and stalked toward her, his intent radiating from every deliberate step. She felt powerless as he wrapped a strong arm around her waist, pulling her torso against his chest, his mouth descending on hers like a predator starved for days.
She hung in his grasp, overwhelmed by his physical and sexual dominance. He was undeniably male, his erection pressing insistently against her through her shirt, his need to claim her consuming him entirely.
It was too much, too soon after their nikaah. She fought back.Pushing against his chest, she wedged her arms between them, squirming to break free. She tore her mouth from his, turning her face away.
"Nahi."
He growled low in his throat, pulling her mouth back to his with a possessive grip.She sealed her lips shut, her body stiffening in refusal.
"Why?" His voice was a guttural rasp, barely controlled.
Minahil sagged against him, her energy draining away.
"Mein aaj aur nahi jhel sakti. Mein bohat thak gayi hoon. Mujhe ghar jana hai. Mujhe yeh nikaah nahi karna chahiye tha."
Yaram's arms tightened around her, his desire warring with her words. A small sob escaped her, muffled against his shoulder, and guilt pricked at him.
He lifted her into his arms and carried her through the dimly lit hall into the master bedroom.
Laying her gently on the bed, he switched off the light and gathered her close.
She stiffened against him, but he made soothing sounds, his hands tracing gentle patterns over her arms and back. Another sob broke free, and he kissed her hair softly.
"Shh, shh. Rona mat, jaan. Sab theek ho jayega."
"Mujhe ghar jana hai."
His body went rigid, his voice roughening.
"Nahi. Ab bohat der ho chuki hai. Bas so jao." He kissed her forehead, his hand smoothing over her stomach.
"Mein tumhein pareshan nahi karunga, tum so sakti ho."
His intentions were sincere, but her scent-soft and floral-drove him wild.She turned her face toward him, whispering,
"This isn't going to work. I can't take the money."
In the darkness, he loomed over her, his outline sharp against the faint moonlight filtering through the curtains.
She felt his hand land possessively between her thighs, squeezing through her trousers in a silent claim.
He pushed her shirt up, bunching it around her waist, his palm sliding over her bare stomach.
Her skin was soft, tempting, and her scent inflamed him further. He dismissed her words, focusing on her body. She needed to sleep-or prepare for what was coming.
He took her trousers off. She whimpered, and he softened, his hand stroking her gently.
He pushed her legs apart, his fingers tracing her with care.
"I want to touch you," he whispered, his breath hot against her ear.
"Tum mujhe pagal kar deti ho, Minahil."
His finger pressed against her, and she trembled, whispering,
"N-nahi."
"Kyun nahi, jaan?" He circled her gently, his voice coaxing.
"Humein yeh nikkah nahi karne chahiye the." He ignored her, kissing her ear, tugging her lobe between his teeth. His hand moved to her breast, teasing her through the fabric until she arched against him.
He slid back down, sinking a finger into her warmth. Her arms wrapped around his head, her legs parting further
. That small surrender nearly broke him, but he fought for control. Her hand touched his cheek, her plea soft:
"Please."
It calmed him. She pulled him into a kiss, her tongue swirling against his. His grip tightened, his control slipping.
Minahil's emotions churned-panic to arousal in seconds.
His gentle strokes melted her resistance. She liked it. But then he stiffened, pushing her legs apart and rising over her, snapping her back to distress.
Yaram felt the moment he lost control-and her. Yeh kya ho raha hai? he thought, frustrated. With a sharp breath, he flipped onto his back, pulling her atop him.
He made her straddled him, his hardness pressing against her through his clothing.
He lay still, hands on her hips, reciting numbers to calm himself: One. Two. Three. Four...Minahil's breath hitched, her hands on his chest, her core parted against his stomach.
His pulse throbbed against her, intimate and overwhelming. She adjusted to the darkness, seeing his feral expression, his eyes closed.
Goosebumps prickled her skin as he raised his hands in surrender.Their eyes met, need pulsing between them. His hand cupped her shoulder.
"Tumhein pata hai tum mere saath kya karti ho?"
She shook her head, her hair brushing his hand. "Nahi, mujhe bas yeh pata hai ke aa mere saath kya karte ho."
His grip tightened.
"Mein tumhare saath kya karta hoon?" He reached for protection, preparing himself behind her.
"Aap mujhe andar se tod dete ho." She stiffened as he rubbed her hips. "You want my body , lekin mujhe lagta hai ke aapke yeh kaafi nahi. you want my soul ."
His hands clenched. She was right-he wanted everything. But it was too soon. He pushed the thought aside, stroking her body.
His fingers teased her breasts, circling without touching the peaks. She inhaled sharply.
He slid down, pressing her until she melted against him.Lifting her hips, he positioned her over him.
"Nahi, mein-"
she started, but he pushed in slowly, guiding her down.
"Shh, shh."
"Please, mein-"
He pressed two fingers against her with precision. She gasped, sinking fully onto him, shuddering as she collapsed against his chest.
Yaram felt her warmth clamp around him, her soft skin making him shake. He lifted her hips, guiding her into a rhythm.
By the fourth stroke, she took over,her body betraying her emotions and he sank his hands into her hair, kissing her softly, matching her gentle movements.He lifted his mouth, cradling her face.
"Tum meri ho. Sirf meri."
Minahil's body splintered at his possessive tone. Her muscles clenched around him, pushing her into oblivion. She collapsed as he groaned, spilling into her with a primal sound.