Talab - Chapter 17: Chapter 17

He kissed every inch of her face, admiring each of her features like sacred art.
As he hovered over her, he noticed a faint glint of fear in her eyes—something she tried to hide. But he knew. He always knew. Without saying a word, he lay beside her, facing her. That simple act—of choosing comfort over passion—was enough to calm her.
With trembling hands, she helped him unpin her saree pallu. She tried to open his shirt buttons but fumbled, nervous. He gently placed her hands on his chest, guiding her to trace along it. A low groan escaped him, igniting something inside her. Emboldened, she slowly hovered over him, kissed his neck, then his chest. He gripped her waist, grounding her.
His hand slowly traveled to her blouse hook. He looked into her eyes, searching—checking for discomfort. There was none.
With a soft click, he unhooked it. She immediately buried her face in his chest.
"Relax, biwi ji," he whispered, cupping her face. "There's nothing to be shy about. You're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen. You're safe with me."
He straightened her gently and slid the blouse off, letting it fall beside his shirt. His heart shattered when he saw the fading and fresh scars marring her chest—testaments of a past that should never have been hers.
With reverence, he leaned down and kissed the skin near her heart, soft and wet, as if to kiss away every bruise.
"Oh Samarth," she whimpered, his name falling like honey from her lips.
A smug smile lifted his lips at her reaction. He cupped one breast with his hand while taking the other into his mouth, enveloping it in warmth, making her forget every cold memory tied to it.
Her fingers tangled in his hair as she arched into him.
Soon, he laid her down beside him, pulling off his pants, leaving just his boxers. He kissed her long, slender legs, worshipping every inch, making her shiver beneath his sweet touches.
She had never known that lovemaking could be this tender.
He slid down and, with his teeth, gently tugged at her panty's waistband, keeping his eyes on hers. She closed her eyes, overwhelmed by his gaze.
Now completely bare in front of him, she turned her face away, shy and trembling. He stood, removed his boxer, and faced her in his vulnerability.
"Biwi ji," he whispered, "Look at me. Please... it'll make me feel special."
Her heart broke open. She sat up and hugged him tightly, cupped his face, and covered it in kisses.
"I love you, Samarth ji," she said between kisses.
He held her face as if holding his entire world.
"Biwi ji... whether you love me or hate me, I'll always love you. Even if I have to give my life for you—I'll do it with a smile."
He gently laid her down and kissed her all over. Lifting her legs onto his shoulders, he positioned himself, inhaled her scent, and gave a long, slow lick.
"Oh my Samarth... again, please," she gasped.
He continued pleasuring her, letting her experience love and not just the echo of pain.
Then, with utmost care, he aligned himself and slowly entered her.
She whimpered. Tears trickled down her cheeks—not of pain, but of being touched with love, not violence.
He leaned down and kissed her forehead, whispering, "You are the purest soul I've ever known."
His slow, soulful movements filled her with a sense of belonging.
As he released deep inside her, a warmth spread through her womb. She felt... complete.
And above them, the moon watched it all—a silent witness to a love that healed, redeemed, and resurrected a broken soul.