⚠️ 18+ only. Desire ahead.
Chapter 9 drops the truth — Vikram shows her what real sin looks like.
What happens next? 😈

The room was warm, filled with the scent of rain and old books.

Naina sat in his lap, still stunned by the images and words in those foreign pages.

Her heart raced with a mix of fear, excitement, and confusion.

Vikram closed the book softly and held her closer.

“Not like this,” he murmured against her temple.

She blinked, looking up. “Why?”

“Because you don’t even know what you want yet, biwi.” His voice was deep, gentle now. “And I need to know. What you desire. What scares you? And does it make you flinch when I touch your waist... and what makes your breath hitch when I whisper in your ear.”

He brushed a knuckle along her jaw—slow, deliberate, as if memorising the shape of her.

“Tell me,” he murmured, voice husky at the edges. “Do you want me to bind your hands… or do you want to be held and kissed slowly in the dark?”

His knuckle drifted to her chin, tilting her face up.

“Do you want control taken from you…”

His thumb grazed her lower lip.

“…or shared?”

Naina’s breath hitched.

No one had ever touched her like this—like she was something precious… something dangerous… something wanted.

She swallowed hard.

She had read about desire. Imagined it.

Fantasised in quiet moments.

But nothing—nothing—had prepared her for him.

Standing so close she could feel the warmth of his body.

The steadiness of his breath.

The promise in his voice.

Her voice trembled as she forced the words out.

“You said I’m the first woman you’ve touched…”

He stilled.

Then he smiled—soft, shy, impossibly intimate.

That rare, raw smile he never showed anyone.

“You are.”

Her lips parted. “Then… how do you know so much?”

Instead of answering, he cupped her face with both hands, thumbs stroking her cheeks as if calming something wild in him.

Then he kissed her—slowly, deeply, like he was pouring every unspoken truth into her mouth.

When he finally pulled back, their breaths tangled, his forehead resting against hers, he whispered:

“Because I’ve read. Late nights. Alone.”

His fingers slid down her spine, barely touching, just enough to make her shiver.

“Wondering if I was a monster for wanting these things.”

She leaned into him—instinctively, helplessly—her hands clutching his shirt.

He exhaled, a soft, shaky sound.

“Now,” he murmured, lips brushing her temple, “I know I’m not.”

He rested his forehead against hers.

“I have you. And if you want to explore, I’ll take you through every page you ever dreamed of.”

“If you want to stop and be normal, live as others do—I’ll do that too. No force. No pressure.”

Then, softer:

“But if you want to live that secret life you hide in books… tell me, Naina.

And I’ll make sure you never feel tainted again.”

Her pulse stumbled.

The way he said it low, certain, sounding as if he already knew the secrets she never dared write down, made her knees weaken even though she was in his lap.

She felt seen.

Exposed.

Caught.

Yet safe.

“I don’t want normal…” she whispered.

“I want you.”

His fingers tightened at her waist — not hard, just firm enough that she felt his restraint.

“Then we’ll go slow,” he said, voice turning molten.

“One… step at a time.”

He tapped her nose, but his eyes were dark with something deeper.

“Tonight, I touch,” he said.

“You tell me what sparks… and what burns.”

Her breath caught.

She nodded, cheeks burning.

“And if you feel scared,” he added, brushing a thumb over the corner of her mouth,

“You say stop. I stop. Always.”

A shy, wicked smile tugged at her lips.

“Then touch me, Sarkar. I’ll tell you everything.”

Their night didn’t begin with wild passion.

It began with questions.

With breath.

With the soft tremor of anticipation between them.

With his hands exploring slowly —

the curve of her hip,

the dip of her waist,

the places where her breath caught

and her fingers curled into his kurta.

Each gasp of hers shaped his next move.

Each shiver told him more than words ever could.

It wasn’t soft.

It wasn’t rough.

It was something else, a kind of careful hunger, the ache of a man holding back because he refuses to rush her.

It didn’t hurt.

It didn’t soothe.

It awakened.

This wasn’t gentleness.

This wasn’t dominance.

It was the beginning of something she wasn’t ready for…yet craved all the same.

HELLO, my delicious chaos crew!

So…
Chapter 9 was supposed to be “gentle,” right?
RIGHT?? Because that did not feel gentle.
That felt like Vikram slowly setting your soul on fire and calling it patience. 😏🔥

Tell me — yes or yes:

Did the way he said “Tonight, I touch. You tell me what burns.”
absolutely END you?

Drop a 🔥 if you’re ready for Chapter 10.
Drop a 😈 if you want it to hurt a little.

— Shaar Shree 💋