Chapter 61 :

Anvaya's POV

My gasp dissolved between our lips as the kiss deepened, swallowed whole by the warmth of him. My legs remained wrapped around his waist, holding him close, while his hands supported me beneath my thighs, keeping me effortlessly lifted against him. The strength in his grip made my pulse stutter. Without thinking, I slid my arms tighter around his shoulders and pulled him closer, silently urging him not to stop as I surrendered further into the kiss.

The walls that had once stood between us had long since crumbled.

Or perhaps they had never truly existed at all.

For months, I had convinced myself that there were boundaries separating us. Rules. Limitations. Reasons to stay away. I told myself that what existed between us was impossible, that no amount of attraction could justify crossing a line I had spent my entire life believing should never be crossed.

The only thing I had ever truly pushed him away for was his marital status.

No matter how intensely I was drawn to him, I wasn't the kind of person who compromised her morals whenever emotions became inconvenient. I wasn't someone who ignored her conscience because desire happened to be stronger. Having an affair with a married man was not something I had ever imagined myself doing.

To me, it was a sin.

It should never have mattered how he lived his life. It shouldn't have concerned me how cold his marriage was, how his wife treated him behind closed doors, or how suffocating the expectations placed upon him had become. It wasn't my responsibility to care about the way his parents had bound him to a life he never wanted, nor should I have cared that the brother he loved wasn't even truly his to claim.

None of it should have mattered.

His fractured world wasn't mine to mend.

His pain wasn't mine to carry.

And yet, somehow, it became exactly that.

Life, however, seemed to have other plans for me.

Somewhere along the way, I crossed every line I had sworn I never would. I kissed a married man. I let him touch me. I allowed him beneath the carefully guarded layers of my heart and mind. In the process, I destroyed my own peace, unraveling the sanity I had worked so hard to preserve.

And I dragged him down with me.

Maybe we were both guilty.

Maybe we were both selfish.

But resisting him had become impossible.

There was something about him that drew me in despite every warning screaming inside my head. Every time I tried to walk away, something stronger pulled me back. Every time I reminded myself of all the reasons this was wrong, he somehow became the only thing that felt right.

He was irresistible.

The frightening part wasn't how deeply I wanted him.

It was how naturally he had become a part of me.

Because the truth was, our connection hadn't begun the day we met. It hadn't started with the first conversation we shared or the first moment our eyes locked across a room.

Somewhere, somehow, we had been tied together long before either of us knew the other existed.

As though our lives had been quietly moving toward one another for years, crossing invisible paths we couldn't yet see, waiting for the moment fate finally decided to let them collide.

I didn't know what was right or wrong anymore.

At some point, those lines had blurred beyond recognition, swallowed by emotions I could no longer control. All I knew was that I wanted him. I loved him.

And somehow, that had become the only truth that mattered.

A startled gasp escaped me when the world suddenly shifted beneath my feet. Before I could process what was happening, I felt myself being lifted effortlessly into the air. The next moment, my body landed against something soft, the mattress dipping beneath my weight and bouncing slightly from the impact.

I blinked up in surprise.

I was on my bed.

And he was above me.

My pulse stumbled.

"What are you doing?" I asked breathlessly.

He didn't answer.

Instead, his gaze remained fixed on me as his hands moved with quiet confidence. There was no hesitation in his actions, no uncertainty. Every movement carried the kind of certainty that made my stomach tighten.

Before I could question him again, he guided me to turn over, my chest pressing lightly against the mattress. Confusion lingered in my mind, but I remained silent, unsure of what he intended to do next.

Yet despite the uncertainty, anticipation curled through me.

It was unfamiliar.

Completely unfamiliar.

I had never experienced anything like this before, never surrendered control in such a way. And yet, there was something strangely intoxicating about the way he handled me-firm and authoritative, yet never careless. Every touch carried an underlying gentleness that made resistance feel impossible.

My breath caught when I felt him take hold of my wrists.

A second later, he secured them behind my back with something silky.

My eyes widened.

"Aksh," I murmured against the mattress, my voice coming out muffled. "Why are you binding me?"

A low chuckle brushed against my ear.

"Don't speak too much, love," he whispered.

The closeness of his voice sent a shiver racing through me.

I couldn't stop the small whimper that escaped when he leaned nearer, his breath warm against my skin. For a brief moment, his presence surrounded me completely before he pulled away again, leaving an unexpected ache in his absence.

The mattress shifted beneath his weight before he got down the bed.
I opened my mouth to speak but he was already demanding.

"Don't move."

That was all he said before disappearing from the room. The door clicked shut behind him, leaving me lying on the bed, hands bound behind me.

Desire had started to course through me, a tingling sensation crawling silently under my skin, inside my heart, making me restless. I gulped. I wasn't expecting anything from him because I knew this man was kinky.

His words and behaviour in bed had given me enough ideas to know that.

And somehow, that made me nervous.

The cold air of the room trailed down my skin like silk drenched in ice, leaving behind goosebumps.

A few minutes later my anticipation came to an end when the door opened again, the sound of his boots echoing again in the room.

"Where did you go?" I asked. I wanted to say something. Anything. To hold on my sensitive nerves making me both impatient and nervous.

"You sound more impatient than curious." He chuckled, voice deeper now.

My cheeks burned making me close my eyes for a moment. It felt humiliating to be caught like that. A cold strike to my ego and pride. But it didn't matter more than the desire that has already started coursing down between my legs.

A moment later, he turned me back over.

My eyes immediately found his.

He was straddling me, his gaze dark and unwavering. There was something dangerous in the way he looked at me-something patient and confident, as though he already knew exactly how this would end.

As though he had already won.

My wrists instinctively tested the restraint behind my back, but it was pointless.

I wasn't going anywhere.

And judging by the knowing curve of his mouth, he was fully aware of that.

"Do you feel that, Anvaya?" he asked softly.

His thumb brushed across my lower lip in a slow, teasing motion.

The gesture was simple.

Yet it made my heartbeat stumble.

"The way you tremble..." His eyes never left mine. "The way your body gives you away before you've spoken a single word."

His gaze moved over me with quiet satisfaction before returning to my face.

And suddenly, being unable to look away felt far more dangerous than being restrained.

I bit down on the whimper threatening to escape, but my silence only made his smirk sharpen. He bent lower, lips brushing mine without sealing, teasing me with the ghost of what I craved. Then he moved down - slow, purposeful - until his mouth hovered over my chest.

The straps of my bra had fallen aside, leaving me bare. My breasts ached under his stare, nipples taut, desperate for relief.

He dragged his tongue across the curve beneath one breast, not where I needed him, but close enough to set every nerve alight. Then he kissed, slow and hot, sucking lightly at the tender skin. His teeth followed, a sharp nip that made me arch with a gasp, only for his tongue to soothe it immediately.

A dark chuckle vibrated against me. "Your body tells me everything you try to hide. You're begging, love. And I've only just begun."

He kissed higher, leaving another bite, another mark, before sealing his mouth to my chest skin and pulling. The heat and pressure made my head spin. A raw sound tore from my throat as he drew a deep hickey into the soft flesh above my breast.

He lifted his head, admiring the bruise blooming there. "Mine," he whispered, almost reverently, before latching onto another spot and branding me again. He scattered them across my chest, claiming me in a way no one could erase. Each one pulled another broken moan from me, my body arching, straining against the bondage.

But suddenly he pulled back, supporting his body on his knees.

My eyes flew open at the sudden absence of his warmth.

And they widened.

He pulled out a silver object from the pocket.

The handle was long and narrow, resembling the shaft of a screwdriver, but the end was fitted with a small rotating wheel lined with tiny metal spikes. The wheel spun freely with the slightest movement, catching the light every time it turned.

My breath caught in my throat.

A knot formed in my stomach as I stared at it, unease creeping through me.

What kind of torturous item had he brought this time?

"A-Aksh, what the hell is that?" I muttered, unable to hide the nervousness in my voice.

The corner of his lips lifted.

His gaze shifted lazily from the metal instrument to my face, lingering on my expression as though he was thoroughly enjoying my reaction.

"It's a Wartenberg Pinwheel," he said. "Ever heard of it before?"

I shook my head immediately.

His brows rose slightly before he gave a single nod.

"Expected from someone like you."

A frown instantly pulled at my features.

"What do you mean by someone like me?" I asked, offended.

A low chuckle escaped him.

The sound alone made irritation flare inside me.

"You'll get your first orgasm with just my words."

My jaw tightened.

I shot him a glare, but neither of us bothered pretending he was entirely wrong.

He knew exactly what to say, exactly how to say it, and somehow every teasing remark, every whispered sentence, always seemed capable of reducing me into a trembling mess.

Admitting that out loud, however, was never going to happen.

That would only inflate his ego. And I wasn't feeding a man's ego. Even if he happened to be my man.

Heat crept up my neck under the weight of his gaze.

Embarrassed, I looked away.

He always saw through me far too easily.

But the next second a sharp gasp escaped my lips. Something cold rolled over my skin.

My back arched instinctively.

The sensation was unexpected enough to steal the air from my lungs.

For a brief moment my eyes squeezed shut as the tiny spikes brushed across my stomach.

Not enough to truly hurt. Just enough to sting. Enough to make every nerve suddenly aware of itself.

I looked down.

The pinwheel rested just beneath my navel.

Kaaryaksh was leaning over me, his weight supported by one arm while the other guided the strange instrument across my skin with deliberate slowness.

The wheel rotated smoothly.

Each tiny point traced a path that left my skin tingling long after it had moved on.

What kind of kink even was this?

I swallowed hard.

"Kaaryaksh-"

"Shh."

The quiet command cut through my protest immediately.

His voice was calm.

Certain.

As though he had already decided neither of us needed words right now.

My heart hammered painfully against my ribs.

"Just enjoy."

The words settled over me like a challenge.

My toes curled involuntarily.

A shaky breath escaped me as he slowly guided the pinwheel upward.

The metal spikes rolled across the sensitive skin of my sternum. A soft whimper slipped from my throat.

The sensation was strange.

The spikes weren't digging deeply enough to injure. Yet they weren't gentle either. Each pass left behind a sharp, prickling trail that sent shivers through me.

My body couldn't seem to decide whether to pull away from it or lean into it.

He watched every reaction carefully.

Every breath.

Every twitch.

Every helpless response.

His focus only made my pulse race harder.

Slowly, he circled the pinwheel around the curve of my left breast.

The movement was almost lazy.

Deliberate. Patient.

My breath caught.

His own breaths suddenly felt closer.

Warmer.

Then I felt his lips near my ear. A shiver immediately ran through me.

His teeth closed gently around my earlobe, giving a slow lock before he released it again.

The brief sensation made me squirm beneath him.

"Do you like it?" he murmured against my skin.

The question sent another tremor through me.

The pinwheel continued its slow path.

My body felt overly aware.

Overstimulated.

Every sensation seemed amplified.

I gasped.

"It hurts."

The admission left me before I could stop it. Because it wasn't entirely a lie. The tiny spikes did bite at my skin with their sharp edges.

His hand never paused.

"That wasn't my question."

The quiet response made my stomach twist.

For a moment I hesitated. Then I gave a reluctant nod.

"I do."

His expression shifted into something deeply satisfied.

"Good."

The word was barely spoken.

Then he leaned down and pressed a lingering kiss against the side of my neck. The warmth of it contrasted sharply with the cold metal still tracing patterns across my skin.

A soft sound escaped me before I could stop it. And judging by the look in his eyes, he noticed every second of it.

Holding back my moans wasn't possible anymore.

Every second felt deliberately stretched, every movement calculated to torture me in the most infuriating way imaginable. He wasn't rushing. He wasn't even trying to reach any particular destination. He simply moved with unbearable slowness, forcing me to feel every sensation, every brush of skin, every lingering touch until it consumed my entire awareness.

My arms ached behind me.

The constant strain of pulling against the restraints had left my muscles sore, my wrists burning from the friction. I'd spent what felt like forever twisting, wriggling, testing every possible angle, but it had been completely useless.

And that was what frustrated me the most.

Not the restraints.

Not the ache.

Not even the helplessness.

It was the fact that I couldn't touch him.

He could do whatever he wanted. He could trail his hands wherever he pleased, take his time exploring every reaction he dragged out of me, watch me unravel piece by piece while remaining completely in control.

Meanwhile, I was left with nothing.

No way to pull him closer.

No way to grab him.

No way to get even.

The imbalance was driving me insane.

His lips brushed beneath my ear.

The contact was feather-light at first, barely there, but it was enough to make my breath hitch. A series of slow kisses followed, each one lingering longer than necessary as he traced a path down the sensitive skin of my neck.

A gasp slipped out before I could stop it.

Then it turned into something louder.

The moment he rolled the pinwheel across my nipple, my entire body jerked.

"Aksh-"

I tried to say his name.

Tried to complain.

Tried to tell him to stop.

But the words never fully formed.

His mouth captured mine before I could finish, swallowing every protest.

My toes curled involuntarily.

The pinwheel rolled away from the nipple, rolling over the hardness, travelling slowly down the valley between my breasts. The tiny points dragged against my skin, leaving a trail of sharp sensation in their wake.

I could feel every single movement.

Every tiny rotation.

Every second.

When it reached the other side and rolled over the second nipple, a broken cry escaped me directly into the kiss.

He didn't react.

Didn't slow down.

Didn't speed up.

Nothing.

As though my response was exactly what he'd expected.

As though he was simply taking his time enjoying it.

His lips continued to dominate mine, stealing my breath and every coherent thought along with it.

I felt dizzy.

Completely intoxicated.

The discomfort in my wrists.

The frustration.

The anticipation.

The slow, relentless burn of being teased beyond endurance.

And him.

Especially him.

Together, it created something dangerously overwhelming.

Something that made my head spin.

Something I should have hated.

But I didn't. I liked it.

The realization settled heavily inside me.

I liked the attention.

Liked the control he had over the situation.

Liked the way he seemed to know exactly how much I could take before pushing a little further.

And that only irritated me more.

When he finally pulled away from the kiss, I dragged in a desperate breath.

Before I could properly recover, the pinwheel moved again.

Slowly.

Deliberately.

It travelled upward until it rested beneath my chin. Then the tiny points pressed into my skin.

Sharp enough to force my head upward.

Sharp enough to make me meet his gaze.

A shiver ran through me.

I was breathing hard now.

Chest rising and falling rapidly.

Completely exposed.

Completely vulnerable.

And judging by the look in his eyes, he knew it.

I hated it.

My eyes fluttered half-open before finally locking onto his.

Silence stretched between us.

His gaze wandered over my face, studying every detail as though he was memorizing it.

The flush staining my skin.

The uneven breaths.

The frustration.

The desperation.

Everything.

For a long moment, neither of us spoke.

Then his voice finally broke the silence.

"Do you like this?"

The question should have been easy to answer.

Instead, my throat felt dry.

Heat rushed through me.

I swallowed.

Then nodded weakly.

"I do."

A low chuckle escaped him.

The sound alone sent another wave of irritation through me.

"There's more."

My eyes widened immediately.

"Oh, no-"

The protest barely left my mouth because his hands moved without warning.

One second he was watching me. The next, both hands closed around my breasts in a firm grip.

The sudden pressure made me scream.

The shock alone stole my breath.

"What the fuck, you old hag-"

The curse flew out automatically.

Too fast to stop.

Too loud to take back.

The grip had come completely out of nowhere.

One moment I was anticipating another slow tease. The next, he had replaced patience with force. The abrupt change made the sensation twice as intense.

My entire body tensed beneath him.

Every muscle tightening instinctively.

The sting lingered long after the initial shock had passed, leaving me glaring at him through watery eyes while struggling to catch my breath.

And judging by the look on his face, he wasn't even remotely sorry.

His grip didn't loosen, but he did stop for a moment.

I didn't open my eyes. My lungs were struggling to catch up with the sudden rush of pain that had shot through me. Every breath came out uneven and shallow, my chest rising and falling far too quickly. The sting lingered, radiating outward and refusing to fade no matter how hard I tried to steady myself.

"What did you just say?"

His voice was low.

Dangerously low.

"I said you're a psycho old hag. Who holds them like they're some sort of s-stress balls?" I gritted out, finally forcing my eyes open.

I glared at him.

Actually glared.

The words should have made me feel victorious. They should have given me at least a tiny sense of satisfaction.

Instead, the look that crossed his face made my stomach tighten.

His eyes darkened instantly.

Something sharp flickered through them.

For a second, neither of us moved.

Then he leaned down.

Slowly.

Deliberately.

"You need to learn how to use your mouth when you're under me, moaning for me," he muttered.