PART THREE- B (Please read Part THREE- A- before continuing on)
"Beta... you plate all the food while I get the table ready" Khushia hesitantly turned back again, shaking her round face from side to side before nodding in Riya's direction, "And don't let this girl here anywhere near the food... only God knows what else will go wrong. My poor Shivam..." she trailed off as she walked absent-mindedly back to the dining table. Riya felt the sting of her words in her chest, hating herself for caring one way or the other. Mummyji was obviously under the influence of her mother-in-law, but couldn't she think for herself, couldn't she just try? She couldn't help but wonder if the woman she once thought of as a mother was in complete denial, unable to face the fact that her children weren't as perfect as she had thought. That maybe she was using her new daughter-in-law as a scapegoat to run away from the truth. Well... what difference did it make anymore? Her truth was that she didn't really care what they all thought of her; the only person whose opinion had the ability to destroy her or empower her was Shivam's... the same man who had looked at her like she was his entire world as he had marked her as his wife with the sindoor. The depths of love and pride that she had seen reflected back to her in his eyes in that moment had undone her and when his fingers had brushed against her forehead, the red vermillion making her his, she hadn't been able to hold the silent tears back. He was her dream come true. She had never been the sort of woman to let a man make her feel weak; she was never one to depend on others for self-empowerment. Her father and the memory of her mother had ensured she grew up to be strong, to be able to weather any storm no matter what came her way. But he changed all that... never in a million years had she expected the weakness that could come with such a force of passion and love. Never did she imagine that just as love could make one as strong as a hundred thousand men that its absence could bring her to her knees, craving and longing and aching for just one more look from him. He had shattered her and still she couldn't hate him, still she couldn't despise him. Was something wrong with her? Or was this what love did to people? Was this the ugly side of love... when you can't have the one human being in all the world who could make it all better? When that one person was the cause of your heartbreak in the first place? Was this love? She didn't know... she didn't know the answer to the question that all of humanity in all of history hadn't been able to answer. All she knew was that he made her heart ache and break and soar into the heavens all at the same time. She couldn't even begin to describe what she felt anymore. How could the same man hate her so much? How could this same man blame her like the rest of them were? And why was she not walking away? Why! She closed her eyes for a moment, leaning against the wall outside the kitchen as she got lost in her silent pain and unanswered questions. Every time she saw him her heart and mind spiralled out of control, concocting a monstrous mixture of confusion and need and anger and the utter helplessness to be able to do nothing but want him, love him. She swallowed what little moisture was in her mouth, her throat dry having not finished her tea; when she opened her eyes she was sure she saw the soft smirk on Chanda's face. Without caring if dadi or mummyji were nearby, she walked into the kitchen pulling a surprised look from Chanda who quickly squirrelled it away and continued to ladle the dhal. "Chanda... your sari is beautiful. Why don't you let me plate up the food... Dadi will get upset if you get food on it. I can get it ready for you and you can serve it at the table?" she spoke in a purposefully innocent tone, hoping she would take the bait. She watched as Chanda faltered, running her hands over the expensive material before giving Riya a look so virtuous that it almost seemed artificial. The woman simply nodded even as Riya moved to the pans and bowls brimming with freshly cooked vegetables and meat, already placing the curries and condiments just how she knew he liked. At least he can eat the food I have plated for him... she thought sadly and feeling pathetic and stupid that she was so desperate to take care of him that she had resorted to inconspicuously plating his food. How low she had sunk... and yet... she felt a sense of warmth in her heart being able to take care of him even in the smallest way, even if he never knew. He had looked so tired yet again, as if he hadn't been getting any sleep at all these days... as if he hadn't been getting any peace. And I'm the one he blames, she thought as her heart clenched and she removed the chillies from his dhal... he hated whole chillies in his food and Chanda had added at least four or five in there. Riya couldn't help the words practically jumping out of her mouth, her irritation had spiked and she couldn't ignore the suspicion clawing away at her, "How do you know what Shivam's favourite foods are, Chanda?... Are you trying to impress him?" She watched as the strangely ingratiating woman flicked her hair back in nervousness before answering in a saccharine voice, "I just cooked what I was told to..." Riya blurted out her next question, hating the overly sweet look on the girl's too naive face, "Were you also told to dress up like a married woman?" she shook her head at Chanda almost immediately, wishing she hadn't given her weakness away and kept her stupid mouth shut, "Forget about it. I'm sorry. Here... you can take it to the table..." She knew she was being unfair, but she couldn't shake the feeling that even through her innocent words she had ulterior motives. She hadn't missed the way she had spied her doing her make-up in dadi's room, re-touching it three times before coming infront of Shivam. It didn't sit right with her. Already she felt defeated, like she had gone ten rounds in a boxing ring and all it had taken was Chanda with her expensive sari and perfect make-up and prettied up for her husband to make her feel like a stain on the otherwise perfect facade of the Srivastav household.
His hair was still damp from the quick shower he had taken, the spikes falling over his eyes and the droplets of water falling onto his clean and fitted black t-shirt as he descended the stairs. His head had felt so foggy now that he was home and ready to crash into the bed that he had decided to do a couple hundred push-ups and pull-ups. At least the physical exertion had cleared some of the cobwebs from his brain, not to mention the remnants of his lust filled thoughts after he had seen Riya first thing after entering the house. What was wrong with him? She had been completely covered from neck to toe but one look at her make-up free face and those haunting eyes and he had been sucked right in. He had needed to work it out of his system before coming downstairs and now his muscles ached almost pleasantly with the catharsis. He had been feeling hungry; starving in fact, after having not eaten any breakfast or lunch and he had fully intended to dish out his own food. He was in no doubt that Riya would try and serve him again today despite his mother's prostestations. Neither would she let Riya serve him and neither would she let him serve himself, as if he was some pre-pubescent child who couldn't look after himself. Sometimes he could swear that time ran backwards in this house; back to the 1900's he was sure. Well, after seeing the look of exhaustion on Riya's face, there was no way he was going to let her serve him; if anything, he should be serving her, but that wasn't going to happen. Not if he wanted her to think he didn't give a damn about her. Even as he thought it his appetite all but disappeared; he really didn't want to eat until she had had something herself. As soon as he heard her voice his muscles bunched right the hell back up again, his breathing coming out slightly heavier as his curiosity outweighed his need to sit at the table and rest his shoulders for a while. He hadn't missed any of the conversation, unable to ignore the hint of jealousy in her voice as she rattled off one question after the next. Chanda looked like she was putting on a class act, the syrupy sweetness of her nature couldn't have been the real her, surely. No one was that f**king nice all the f**king time.
He twisted around quickly, sensing his mother approaching him from behind before she went for the kill and shouted at Riya for being in the kitchen. Usually he would have allowed it to happen; the more his family ill-treated her, the more likely she would leave this shithole. But something about today felt different; after he had kissed her his brain had felt like it had been turned inside out and he was finding it infinitely harder to be the complete bas***d he had promised himself he would be. Today she looked shattered, as if she was holding on by a thread of sanity and he didn't have it in him to let his mother unleash her hatred on her... not today. And so he walked infront of his mother, stopping her in her tracks and blocking her view. "Ma... I can dish my own food out. Why don't you go and rest, I'll be fine..." as soon as he uttered the words his mother gasped looking displeased just as dadi started her yakking yet again. "What are you talking about serving yourself? Have you lost your mind? Men don't serve themselves in this house, you know that! Now... don't worry about your ma. Chanda will serve you your food today... go...go and sit at the table... " He shook his head silently, only a hair's breadth from losing it and walking the hell back out of Shanti Sadan. He was a grown f**king man, he could damn well serve himself and he didn't need Chanda of all people to serve him like some doting married woman! He wasn't f**king blind! He could see very well what was going on... they were damn well pushing their limits shoving that woman in his face every chance they got, the both of them. He looked at his mother then, unable to mask the shock on his face as she started sobbing with fat teardrops running down her face. Ah f**king hell, what now for godsakes! "L-look at what she has done to you! Do you see now? Do you see? This is all Riya's fault... she is too modern this girl, teaching you to serve yourself. You have never served yourself... Amma-ji what do I do? Riya has changed my boy..." Shivam ground his teeth for what felt like the millionth time; God... he was fed-up. If he told his mother to stop making such a big deal out of it she would no doubt blame Riya for that too and if he just shut his mouth and let Chanda serve him then he could just get the hell out of there sooner rather than later. He was too exhausted for this bitch-fest between his dadi and his mother and in all honesty he wasn't so sure anymore that his mother was as innocent and sweet as he had believed her to be all these years. Every day she seemed to show an increasingly more cruel side to herself and he didn't like what he was discovering. Not at all.
He ground his jaw tight and shut his mouth like the exemplary f**king son of the house was expected to do, simply nodding once before moving to the dining table and hoping that Riya had snuck out of the kitchen before she was found out. He sat himself down, unable to stop himself from seeking her out from the corner of his eye before looking directly at her. She was hurting and he couldn't help but get sucked into that look, her beautiful puppy eyes looking beyond sad and as though she were longing for him. Her eyes felt like they were literally pulling on his heart with strings, as if with that look alone she could magnetise him to her and he would wrap his arms around her and bury his face in her, in the crook of her neck. God... I wish... his breathing deepened as the ache in his ribcage hurtled through him, if he wasn't careful then his resolve to push her away would completely fall apart. He needed to remind her that she meant nothing to him, that that kiss that had melted his heart and turned him on and made him want to devour her whole had meant nothing to him. And so when he uttered the words that came out of his mouth next as Chanda set the plates infront of him, he could have sworn he heard his own soul tear itself apart. "Chanda... why don't you sit down and eat with me? You must have spent all day cooking and no one else seems to be hungry... " he had looked at the food infront of him unseeingly as he spoke the hollow words, knowing that each utterance was a knife in his beautiful wife's heart. He raised his eyebrows and looked at the woman he couldn't care less about, "Sit... you must be tired... and... and your sari looks lovely by the way..." And Riya is exhausted... she hasn't even eaten... If he was any weaker he would have let the sting in his eyes manifest itself, but he didn't. He couldn't believe that his mouth was still making words; words he didn't mean even if his life had depended on it. He looked at Chanda stoically as she sat herself perpendicular to him, offering her the most wooden and hollow smile he had ever given to another human being, his entire body still attuned to the perfect angel in the background even if he didn't glance her way. Almost a quarter of an hour went by, his peripheral vision latched onto Riya not knowing what her face looked like, not wanting to know for fear of what he would see. He had pushed his food about, barely eating a piece of roti he had dipped in the dhal before completely giving up; Chanda had sat awkwardly watching him waste the food she had cooked and he really couldn't have given a shit. Hungry wasn't even a word he understood right now; he just wanted to get the hell out of there and go to sleep, at least it would be oblivion from his own aching heart if only for a while. "You're looking quite unwell Riya... and your sari is torn, eh. You should take some pride in how you look if you're going to force yourself on us here... we don't need the neighbours gossiping about your tatty clothes on top of everything else..." Shivam's gaze gravitated to her like a magnet upon hearing her name; his eyes moved from her feet to her hand twisting self-consciously at the hole in her sari, her injured one still wrapped in the same gauze he had used as it triggered the memory and prompted him to fist his own injured hand. When he finally found her face he had wished he hadn't; even before the pretty teardrop had touched her cheek she had swiped it away, her lip trembling in barely masked pain as she forced a gentle smile on her lips and spoke back to dadi, "I am proud of my clothes dadi... I look like you, don't I?" Shivam would have smiled at her audacity if the heart wrenching pain on her face wasn't ripping his heart right out of his chest. That tear she had swiped away had nothing to do with dadi and everything to do with him, of that he was sure. He would have bet his life that had she been alone her tears would have flowed unimpeded over her face, mirroring the breaking of her heart as she watched her husband care more for a stranger than her. Yes, he was pretty damn sure he had sunk to the depths of hell itself.
If she had thought her heart was breaking before, then she obviously didn't know what the hell she was talking about. Watching the man she was in love with giving attention to and showing such concern to Chanda had been akin to his shoving his hand into her chest and squeezing her heart until it bled. She had leaned back against the wall in her sudden weakness, not able to believe her ears as the blood drained from her face and pooled into the empty chasm where her heart should have been. He really doesn't love me... all he needed was... was a woman in a pretty sari... She felt like her face was going to crumble as her throat contracted with the sharp sting of jealousy and betrayal. He hadn't really done anything shocking, but the way he asked her to sit with him, the compliment... the two of them alone like a pair of lovers and dadi's smug face in the background... She let the pain settle in her throat, not even wanting to run away from it anymore. He really truly hated her... there was no other explanation any more. It was the first time he had ever invited Chanda to sit with him, to spend time with him; she had hoped that it had been a good sign his avoiding the woman every time dadi had tried to force them together. But no... now he had sought her out without any prompting. He truly doesn't want me anymore... she had thought to herself as her world came crashing down and even then dadi showed no compassion, her vicious taunt nearly sending her over the edge. She wouldn't cry... not infront of that woman; not infront of any of them. Even though she didn't care what dadi had to say about her state of dress, she did care what Shivam thought of her. Damn her but she still cared even though she was sure he hadn't even noticed if she was alive since he had come home from work; why the hell would he with Chanda walking around looking like a classy model swanning about the house? She shouldn't have cared; he obviously didn't. But she accepted it now as surely as she accepted the sun in the sky and the depths of the ocean... she was in love with him even he hated her, even if he wanted nothing to do with her. And it was so obvious to her now. Her being here... forcing herself on him, in his life... it was selfish. He didn't want her anymore... if that display was anything, it was proof that he was already moving on. It was proof that she could never make him happy. It felt like she was over-reacting but she knew she wasn't... he hadn't stopped shouting at her, insulting her, going out of his way to hurt her and that kiss... well that kiss had obviously meant nothing to him. When he had said it had been a mistake, he had truly meant it; she couldn't believe otherwise as she watched him smile at Chanda, even if he looked uncomfortable as he did it. Maybe he just wishes I wasn't here to watch him... she thought as her heart beat out the last vestiges of hope left in her, for now she truly had none. Not only did she feel stupid and ugly in her old-fashioned sari compared to Chanda, but she was exhausted and her stomach twisted in painful knots in its desperation for food even if it was the last thing on her mind. She was struggling to keep her face from falling apart, let alone speaking back to dadi; she needed to get out of here. I should leave them alone, let them spend some time together... she thought to herself as each silent word peeled and ripped away at the battered and broken layers of her heart. She didn't think she could hold back the pain anymore, she needed to be alone... away from them, from him. "Doesn't Chanda look beautiful in this sari, eh Kushia? Like an actress! Do you like the colour Shivam?..." Riya didn't dare look at him; she couldn't hold back the tears leaking quietly from the corners of her eyes. She didn't want to know his answer, she didn't want to hear him say how beautiful she looked or how the colour suited her. She just wanted to hide and sob her heart out until she curled up in on herself. If he truly didn't want her... then she would never hurt him by being in his life. But she couldn't watch this, listen to this. And so Riya quietly backed away, drawing as little attention as she could to herself and sure than no one in the world would notice anyway. She walked up the stairs, passing by her husband's room and disappeared into the shadows far and infinitely alone from prying eyes.
*
He hadn't missed the movement in the background, the subtle saffron splash of colour there one moment and gone the next. She had left him alone with a witch, a puppet and possibly a charlatan. He didn't like to think of his mother as a puppet, but the way she was acting these days was making it increasingly difficult for him to see her the way he used to. She had always been naive, but this was way beyond ridiculous; she believed every word out of dadi's mouth no matter how preposterous and without question. It wasn't an attribute he found he could respect no matter how much he loved his mother. He looked at Chanda as she smiled shyly at him, no doubt his and dadi's comments inflating her ego no matter how demure and well mannered she seemed on the surface. He narrowed his eyes for a moment, a frown marring his features for a second before he looked back at dadi, wishing he could hurl the insults back at her for the way she had essentially laughed at Riya infront of everyone with her usual brand of cruelty. He was being a hypocrite yet again, afterall, hadn't he complimented a complete stranger on her sari just to hurt Riya? But that was him... his dadi attacking her was different and as hypocritical as it was he couldn't bear to listen to them verbally strip her, especially not today. "Dadi... Chanda has been home all day. I'm sure she's had lots of time to dress up and do her hair and... whatever you women do... but others have to go out and work. They come home and then they do the housework. Not everyone can play dress up Dadi. I myself am covered in dust when I get back from work..." He didn't know when he had learnt to speak like that to the matriarch of the family; maybe Riya was rubbing off on him more than he realised, but he would be damned if he had let her get away with it. Riya wasn't here to hear him support her and it was how he preferred it, but speaking up to this woman had made him feel empowered. A rare occurrence indeed with a life sucking family such as his; he might have loved them, but they sure as hell didn't know how to just be happy in life. His throat had constricted when he had watched Riya fisting the hole in her sari as if she had felt small and ashamed of herself. When he had spotted her from a distance as she busied herself in the stall with Varun, she had got her sari trapped by a nail, ripping it before she could get it free. If anything that tear was a symbol of how hard she had been working today; it was nothing to be ashamed of and he wasn't going to let dadi belittle it. His dadi had shamelessly flaunted Chanda infront of him, as if that woman could in any way compare to Riya's natural beauty. She didn't need layers of make-up and blindingly bright saris to make her look beautiful, she was f**king gorgeous just as she was to him. Preferably with as little on as possible if he could have his way, but this wasn't the place to think of such things. "That conniving girl? That modern woman? Don't be fooled by her... you already got fooled once. She doesn't know the meaning of hard work. As soon as she came home she made herself some tea and comfortably sat down. And here Chanda has been toiling in the kitchen all day! That is working hard" she puffed out her chest trying to seem imposing no doubt, only managing to piss him off even more with her intentional sociopathic tendencies. "Anyway, you are a man eh Shivam? You are expected to look like a mess when you come home from work" she chuckled in her deep voice, "women should make more of an effort. Going to the office is no excuse to look like a homeless person. But ah anyway... leave it. You should eat some more food. Chanda has been in the kitchen all day cooking for the family... you don't want her work to go to waste..." Wow... you're really laying it on thick today dadi... he thought with a bitter and sickly feeling in his belly, as though something was badly wrong. He couldn't be bothered talking back to her again, no doubt she would skim over it and keep shoving Chanda in his face if he stayed here and he really wasn't hungry anymore. He wrapped the roti and vegetable parcel surreptitiously under the table as dadi fawned over Chanda, making sure it was covered in the thick clean tissue before tucking it out of sight and standing up. "No dadi... thank you but I've had enough for now, I'm tired so Im going to rest for a while" he clipped out succinctly, nodding quickly to his mother and Chanda before making himself scarce and giving his grand-mother a chance to hold him back longer. He walked up the stairs sure that she had gone this way; he just needed to give her the parcel of food and go to his bedroom... at least he would feel more at peace that she had some food before she had to cook for herself later. As he walked passed their bedroom, the setting sun casting long and golden shadows along the open landing he thought he heard something coming from behind the room and towards the rear-facing balcony before the sound disappeared again. Not sure what to expect but feeling his heart hammer in his chest anyway, he walked in the direction from where it originated only to stop dead in his tracks when he saw her. Her veil was in disarray as she leaned her uncovered shoulder on the wall, her face in her hands and her slender shoulders slightly hunched over as the most heart wracking sobs escaped her pretty mouth. His heart twisted into an unbearable pain at the sight of her; she hadn't noticed him watching as she bit hard into her bottom lip, no doubt trying to stop the sound of her heart breaking from reaching too far. Her body shook quietly, one word escaping her lips over and over until he thought his chest was going to completely cave in. "Sh-shivam... Sh-shivam... I'm sorry..." when she uttered the apology he felt the rage finally bubble to the surface of his barely contained sanity. Why the f**k is she apologising? She doesn't have anything to apologise for! I'm the one who made her cry! How the f**k can this woman still want me?! He didn't know if he was feeling the anger at her or himself anymore, just that he wanted her to stop crying. He f**king hated seeing her cry... and this, this wasn't crying. She was breaking right before his eyes. "Stop it" was all he could say at first, his voice cold and devoid of emotion; her head snapped up as she plastered her back to the wall, the soft light of the sun making her face glow in the bronzed light and catching the sparkle of her tears. God she is beautiful. "Just stop it. What is wrong with you? Don't you ever stop crying? Stop looking for attention!" he didn't know what the hell had come over him, bellowing the last words to her like a man gone mad even as her face morphed right before his eyes from fractured heartache to stone-faced anger. He damn well preferred her anger to her tears. "I wasn't looking for attention! Why do you always yell at me? What did I do?? You're the one who followed me here! I don't need you! I didn't ask for you to look for me!" her voice cracked as she almost screamed the last few words and somewhere in the back of his mind he was surprised that no one had heard them. As though he was possessed by some manic need to shake sense into her, he stalked up to her in seconds, her smaller frame pressing further into the wall behind her as the space between them shrunk. He stopped just a hair's breadth away from her chest, he could feel her breasts just barely moving against his own chest as she sucked the air into her lungs at his sudden proximity and the frisson of contact between them. No where near enough and yet too much all at the same time. He could smell her delicate perfume, something heady like jasmine and woman and her. And god knew what else that was making his breath come out ragged and laboured. He couldn't tear his eyes away from her hair as the make-shift knot she had made suddenly came loose as she jolted against the wall, her long silky hair fanning about her face like a damned siren. His eyes swung back to her own pools of liquid chestnut, his voice coming out deep and hoarse even to his own ears, aroused. "Don't think I'll change my mind just because you're beautiful. I shouldn't have kissed you" he leaned into her as he uttered the same hard words he spoke that night, unable to move in any other direction but closer. Her breasts pushed into him fully now even as he gritted his teeth with the sensation of her, unclenching his jaw again before he spoke and taking her own laboured breath into his lungs, "You shouldn't be here, in this house. Stop interfering with dadi and ma... and leave Chanda alone, Riya. She's just doing what they tell her to" his words were meant to make her angrier, to make her hate him with every particle of her being except that wasn't what happened. The look he had been terrified of seeing was there before him in all its glory, her face crumbled and her every vulnerability was bared before him like the most precious of treasures; her voice trembled and broke and tore through him like a battering sandstorm, "I-I know you want h-her. I l-look like this and she is beautiful. I am s-sorry I have made you so miserable, Sh-shivam. I wont be a burden to you any more... I p-promise" she struggled through the words, the tributaries of tears cascading over her cheeks and lips and unable to look him in the eyes. He could feel the movement of her breasts against him as she shook with the force of her tears, the sensation coiling around him until he couldn't take it any more. He needed her to look at him, if she didn't look at him he was going to f**king detonate as the rage of what her words did to him licked through him like fire. She bit into her bottom lip, hard enough that he saw the indentation of her small teeth against the natural blush of her skin, her frown causing her face to crumble further as she unsuccessfully held her breathless sobs at bay, "Y-you hate me... so much... I-" That was all it took to make him finally snap. He couldn't have given a flying f**k about Chanda or if they dipped her in f**king gold and rolled her in diamonds. No one compared to Riya. No one. "JUST SHUT UP! Alright? Shut. UP" Even as he bellowed out the last word he lifted his right arm up and sunk his long fingers into the back of her scalp, her soft hair firmly but gently bunched up in his fist. He slammed his chest against hers, crushing her breasts into him as she let out a yelp from the sudden onslaught to her senses and before he knew what he was doing his mouth came crashing down on hers, hard and desperate for her. He could taste the saltiness of her tears, the sweetness of her saliva and the soft whimpering from her throat as he sucked on her lips, licking and nibbling like he hadn't eaten in years wanting only to kiss away the mark she had made with her small teeth. He felt her pushing deeper into his embrace, seeking more of him like it was the most natural thing in the world and another lock snapped open in his barely restrained body. He needed to touch her goddamit; it wasn't enough! Shivam lifted his left hand to her veil, instinctively pulling at it and away from her skin even as she tried to pull it back and cover herself. They were alone, no one was watching and he had lost all common sense; he needed that stupid f**king sari off her blouse now. You're mine, if I want to touch you I will! The possessive and almost Neanderthal-like thought forced its way into his psyche after the months of self-inflicted torture. She f**king well belonged to him no matter how much he tried to deny it; even if she left him and let him die alone and broken, even if they could never be together... she would always belong to him. He hadn't been able to stop thinking of that kiss, of the needy sounds she had made when he simply touched her with his lips but now he needed more, he needed more than anything in this moment to pull those sounds from her precious lungs again just for him. Shivam pressed himself deeper into her, his cock hard and flush against her flat belly as he thrust his tongue in between her lips. He drank in her soft cry for more as he sucked on her tongue, slowing the kiss until he was drugging her senses; licking first her bottom lip before moving onto her pretty heart-shaped upper lip and sucking it in-between his own. He loved the primal and painfully feminine sounds coming from her, filling his own mouth as he bit hard on her lip, needing her to feel the force of his love for her even if he wouldn't say it with his words. He was getting lost in her, losing control. He shoved her harder against the wall, pulling on her hair at the base of her scalp until her face was bent up towards him to get a better angle. He plundered her mouth until he was sure she couldn't breathe; she was breathless and speaking his name on her lips, almost crying out for more of him. I love you Riya... I love you baby... he wished he could say it loud, he wished he could kiss her more tenderly and communicate his love to her that way but he didn't dare. This wasn't a time for tenderness; he couldn't show her he loved her but he could show he wanted her, like a man wants a woman. He felt her wrap her arms around his neck, desperately pulling him down towards her from his height; Shivam dislodged her hands, using his own strong arms to pin her wrists to either side of her head before kissing her harder and softer at the same time. He took his time to savour her until she squirmed against him for more pressure, bucking her own slender hips into his own and he unable to stop the deep rumbling moan of his own voice from flooding her mouth. She smelled so f**king good; her skin clear and fresh without a trace of make-up so he could taste her as he lapped at her. His hands sported a fine tremor as one dropped to her waist, his right hand caressing sensually over her bare silky skin and pulling her into his own abdomen; he loved the way she sucked the air into her lungs at his touch. His palms ached to cup her breasts, to draw out yet another aching whimper from her until his brain short-circuited. His cock ached for her, to sink into her after almost a year of fantasising about it. He couldn't get enough of her tentative and inexperienced attempts to thrust her sweet tongue in his mouth, taking her cues from him as she sucked back on his own tongue and sent fireworks exploding in his head. It was too much, he was sure he would start hyperventilating at this rate, drowning in her as she pushed her breasts further into him. f**k! He was losing control dammit. Too much! I need to stop before I tear her damned clothes off right here! He suddenly stepped back from her breathless and shaken at the force of his own need and at his own actions, severing the connection between them so roughly that she almost moved with him before he held his hand out between them, stopping her from coming any closer with the slightest of tremors running up his arm. His breathing was laboured when he spoke, praying she didn't look south of his abdomen lest she see the very obvious evidence of his lust through his jeans. As if she hasn't just felt you press your damned cock into her you idiot! He mentally chastised himself as he tried not to latch his eyes onto the movement of her chest rising and falling with her own heavy breathing. She was so f**king sexy right now his throat ached for more; his mouth had wanted to trail kisses where it had never dared before. Shivam unconsciously shook his head, tearing his eyes away from her for a moment to shake the uncontrollable love and lust raging through him before speaking to her like a goddamned asshole yet again. He really needed to stop f**king around with her emotions like this, but when she had finally spoken of leaving he had lost his damned mind and hurled himself at her. He knew he was giving her mixed signals and he really didn't know what the hell to do about it at this point. He ground his jaw shut and forced himself to breathe through his nose, trying his best to ignore the becoming flush over her cheeks and the exposed part of her chest... her lips swollen from what his mouth had just done to her again. His kisses suited her.
He tore his hand through his hair, pulling almost viciously until it hurt; he couldn't stop the small hiss that left his mouth as he inadvertently opened the wound on his palm again. Even as he dropped his hand, he hadn't missed the way Riya looked at his hand, the frown on her face her tell-tale sign for her concern and worry; however, Shivam spoke before giving her a chance to question him about it. "Don't mistake this for something more. Stop trying to seduce me. It won't work. I don't care how f**king gorgeous you are - stop looking at me like that and just do what ma tells you, alright? Stop trying to be part of this family" Shivam shook his head at the hurt in her eyes even as she gasped at his swearing; he never swore infront of her, but she had completely undone him, he had lost his damned f**king mind attacking her like a wild animal in heat. It didn't escape him that every word out of his mouth was a lie. He was completely seduced even if she hadn't planned it and it was taking everything he had not to hurl himself back into her incredible soft body and listen to her soft moans for him. This is what f**king happened when you didn't make love to your wife after marrying her... and pretending you hated her. "Don't look at me like that. You wanted a divorce, you said six months... that's what you'll get". He was convinced without a doubt now that she had no part to play in filing for the divorce, there was no way in hell she wanted to leave him when she kissed him back like that. Dadi had manipulated and orchestrated the whole thing and he fell into the trap like the moron that he was. Well... in the end it didn't make a difference. He should let her go, he should let her live her life hassle free; except when she had actually said it out loud he had panicked, unable to stomach the idea of her leaving forever. He didn't know what the f**k he was doing; he should have told her to go, not kiss her until neither of them could breathe anymore! And here they were, back to square one and he was sure he had completely confused her by the look on her face. He walked towards her, moving to her right and picking up the food parcel he left on the balcony railing before shoving in into her good hand, "Eat this. You haven't eaten all day. And don't mistake it for love, Riya. I don't have room for it anymore" She looked stung by his words as her face fell even more, but instead of hurling abuse at him she shook her head before speaking, "But you barely ate anything. Here, you take-". Shivam scowled at her, in no mood to argue with her and the taste of her still in his mouth driving him insane. He narrowed his eyes and looked at her with a touch of anger, "You're still arguing with me? You know what? Eat it, don't eat it... I don't give a damn. Do whatever the hell you like" He swallowed back his spit and turned on his heel, now feeling the weariness of their situation settle in his bones leaving him completely deflated and hollow. What in the hell was he going to do? He was more in love with her than he ever had been and he wasn't sure how he was supposed to let her go. Except... if he truly claimed to love her, then he had to... for her sake.
Riya stared at the silhouette of his broad shoulders, tapering into a V at his waist as he stalked away from her, his head bent down and the adam's apple in his throat moving up and down. The wrapped up food sat like a bag of feathers in her open hand, her head floating and every nerve ending in her body electrified at whatever in God's name had just happened between them. His words had been horrible, cold and full of anger yet again... even cruel when he accused of her seducing him... except he had practically made love to her with his mouth in the secluded corner of the house. Her breath trembled as she breathed in and out, her dupatta hanging immodestly on the floor of the balcony and her upper body clothed only in her saffron coloured blouse as the memory of his hands felt like he had been tattooed all over her skin. When she finally looked down at the food in her hands, the force of love and the ache hit her square in the centre of her chest like a tidal wave... he hadn't eaten, but he had snuck out his own food to give to her. To make matters worse she hadn't missed the pain etched on his face when he had clenched his left fist, the small droplet of blood he had left on the tissue like a precious jewel. Her tears dropped on the paper-thin material, the liquid spreading into it as her vision blurred realising that he was wounded. He said he didn't love her, that she wasn't a part of his world... but the evidence in her hands was so completely the opposite that her head swam with the confusion. Her injured hand floated to her sensitive lips before dropping to her neck. What had just happened? God... what do I do? I don't want to go... not after the way he kissed me... touched me. She let the unanswered question hang silently in the ethers knowing that God would not help her if she didn't think for herself. She leaned back against the wall, closing her eyes and letting the tears flow down her cheeks and wetting the exposed skin of her decolletage as if her tears could wash away the feel of him. They couldn't, they never would. She swallowed back the painful lump in her throat, already missing him, already craving the feel of his hot sweet breath against her cheek as he had practically eaten her up. "I love you Shivam..."
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Cricket
CID
