PreRish/KaRica AT #67|Mindless Chaos and Uncertain Future| - Page 109

Originally posted by: Grey-licious

hows the coloring guyz

Originally posted by: Grey-licious

hows the coloring guyz

The effect his words have on her. Just need to.look into her eyes they are saying so much.

Beautiful colouring

Originally posted by: shin-chan

This season she is getting only pamper from RB aur kitna chahiye. Apart from taking care of Kuki that too after a big blunder she did.and learned her responsibility out of it, this season I dint see her doing anything productive. No studies no wife duties nothing. Roaming around useless and this RB too doesnt tell her anything to do apart from announcing she will run his one of the publications.

RB's Queen this season for a reason in every sense

Originally posted by: -TeriMalang-

In hospital her blingy shiny clothes and jewels wouldnt be allowed no

Beta imp hai yah jewellery 🤣

Originally posted by: .amigos.

THIS INSPIRED ME TOO HAHA!

His footsteps drove a staccato against the floorboard, clapping against the silent walls of the hall. She didn’t pause. The slithering, sizzling current that was always between them filled the air, ballooning between the hollow, vacant gaps years of rectitude had brought forward. He was playing the saint. But all saints submitted. Worship was their sin. And worship would be his.

The shadow loomed closer, catching up with her, engulfing the cream walls in curtains of black. A very warm, very solid arm closed around her, the stamp of his fingers igniting heat and familiarity. She was turned, the distance ever so permanent between them, and a wall behind her gave purchase.

The hand withdrew, leaving a lingering residue of current that burned a halo against her skin. Her chin rose, those subtle, sleepy cat-eyes arrested in the storm of black and grey. Of smoke and sin and power so corrupted, it made you dizzy. She’d looked into those eyes, a thousand times, and each time, was a different color. Blue, for the sky. For the sin. For electricity. Yellow. For the Sun. The sunflowers and those fleeting moments when they’d been good and healthy. And red. Red for the visceral, gut-tearing, animalistic thirst and lust and need that flew between them. But black. And Black, and black for the love that died so painfully.

It was violet today. Violet, the letters strummed inside her head, burning images of poppies and periwinkles and thunderstorms against the back of her lids. Violet for the violence brewing inside the cold stare that held her.

“Rishab,” she tilted her head to the side. She wanted to touch him. But they had rules. Never touch each other.

“Menka,” his eyes fell to her lips and then down her throat. She knew what the appraisal was about. Not about love. Never about lust. It was a mark of intimidation. A show of who had the upper-hand in the moment. It was about indifference and callous disregard.

“I wonder how your wife feels about our little games.”

“She can’t feel much,” he looked at her, “...for the moment. How did you convince her to drink?”

“Did I?”

“You’re beautiful. You know that, don’t you?”

She didn’t say a word. Didn’t move. Didn’t blink. He drew closer and she allowed his scent to fill the space. Him. Still him. The smell of aftershave. His favorite cologne and the gutters from where he’d come.

A slow smile shifted his mouth, a moment so fleeting it tore past her before she could hold it, and then his shoulder flexed. An arm rose, and his hand cinched around her neck, the pressure soft but firm.

Something blazed inside her. He’d not touched her in years. Something short-circuited. They had rules!

His face swallowed the light that shimmered overhead, and all she could see was him. His broad shouldered, jacket packed chest that rose and fell so gracefully, his dark, bottomless eyes that consumed her, and the lethal, dark challenge that sent a bolt of thrill through her. Their noses brushed. Almost. Almost. Not touching and his words were slow and soft.

“And you know how I love beautiful things. Especially when I watch all life leave their pretty, empty faces. When the blood drains and the lips lose their red, and the eyes are just bone and socket, that’s my favorite part.”

The hold tightened and a small hitch rose inside her throat. He wouldn’t kill her. They both knew that. But what if he did?

“Go ahead, then. I dare you.”

He smiled, “there’s no fun in eating your meal raw. You have to marinate it first. Wait for the right time. I’ll find you. Some time. Somewhere. Alone. And nobody will know where you went. And you know the best part? Nobody will care either.”

The jibe hit and she curled her fists, “there’s no need to be in such a pucker love. It was just a drink.”

“Stay away from Prerna. And you know me, don’t you? I don’t like repeating my words.”

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KHAIR, that's just us and our wishes. No I've not read it. WILL DO ASAP! Thank you for the suggestion.

Haha I actually need good music to set the mood in. Once that happens, the muse is automatically fed.

Originally posted by: WaqtZaya

BIWI KO BULAO 😈

Originally posted by: WaqtZaya

BIWI KO BULAO 😈

SHE X hai wo

Biwi toh ghar par hi hai agar neeehe ho toh chillake bulalo.

Originally posted by: rmahi25

Ye Paisa Paisa krti hai....Paisa ke wajah se iska beta Marti haii🤣

🤣

Originally posted by: Surbhi123

No way mujhe uski wife is face bilkul bhi nhi pasand

Originally posted by: Grey-licious

hows the coloring guyz

❤️