Follow for more

Introduction:

Forbidden attraction between a girl and her best friend's older brother, Aarav — a mature, confident man who knows exactly how to ruin her innocence, in the most delicious ways.

---

PART 1: Aankhon Se Shuru, Hothon Pe Khatam

The storm raged outside as she closed the door behind Aarav. Water dripped from his body, his white shirt clinging to his chest. Her throat went dry.

“Tumhe kisne bola baarish mein bike chalane?” she asked, trying to hide the flush on her cheeks.

He smirked. “Kya karoon, tumhara intezaar karna sabse bada risk hai.”

He was teasing her again. Always this slow, burning flirtation—but tonight, something in his eyes was different.

She handed him a towel. “Kapde badal lo, warna bimar pad jaoge.”

Aarav stepped closer, wet footprints trailing behind him.

“Main toh pehle se hi bemaar hoon,” he whispered, “Tumhari yaadon ka bukhaar hai, chadh hi nahi raha.”

She froze.

Before she could think, his fingers were in her hair, tilting her head up. His lips claimed hers, slow and possessive. She gasped, clutching his shirt, already soaked.

“Tumne kabhi socha tha,” he murmured, “Main tumse is tarah baat karunga?”

“Main... sapne mein bhi nahi,” she breathed, heart pounding.

He smiled darkly. “Toh chalo, sapna pura karte hain.”

With that, he lifted her in one motion, carrying her to the bedroom. Her breaths came out fast. He threw the towel aside and pinned her to the bed, hovering above her.

“Tum mujhe rok sakti ho... agar chaaho toh,” he whispered, thumb brushing her lips.

“Rokungi toh chhod doge?” she challenged.

He leaned in, voice rough. “Bilkul nahi.”

Then, his mouth was everywhere—her neck, collarbone, down her stomach. She arched under him as he pulled off her kurti, bra and all. He stared at her like she was a feast.

“Perfect ho,” he growled, biting down gently on her shoulder.

She whimpered. He slid a hand between her legs, rubbing her through her wet panties. “Itni geeli ho? Sirf mere ek kiss se?”

“Shut up,” she moaned.

“Main toh abhi shuru bhi nahi hua.”

He pulled her panties down slowly, eyes never leaving hers. And then, his mouth replaced his fingers.

She grabbed the bedsheet, gasping, legs trembling as he sucked and teased her. His tongue was slow torture, licking circles, dipping inside, then pulling away just when she was about to break.

“Bol ke maango,” he said huskily, “warna kuch nahi milega.”

“Aarav... please... mujhe chahiye...”

“Kaun chahiye?” he teased, slipping a finger inside her.

“Tum,” she cried, “bas tum.”

He climbed over her, undressed, hard and heavy against her thigh.

“Main andar aaoon?” he whispered, his tip teasing her entrance.

She nodded furiously. “Aarav, abhi...”

He thrusted in one strong stroke. She screamed his name.

His hands gripped her hips, his pace slow at first, grinding into her just right.

Then harder.

Then rougher.

He pulled her leg over his shoulder, hitting deeper. She couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. Just feel.

“Dekha?” he groaned, “Kaise bharti ho mujh mein... jaise sirf mere liye bani ho.”

Hair pulling. Skin slapping. Wet kisses. Whispered moans.

They didn’t stop.

Not even when the clock struck 3 a.m.

He tied her wrists with her dupatta and made her beg.

“Raat bhar tumhari saans meri marzi se chalegi,” he said, licking her ear.

And she let him.

---