Chapter 97: A Dark Desire

His eyelids concealed his grey eyes. Blackness sprawled in front of his eyes. And then, in that darkness, a picture was slowly and sensually drawn.

Grey eyes.

Slender nose.

Laughing lips. Rosy lips.

Perfect cheeks.

Honey blonde locks.

Her dainty hands holding a rose.

The picture faded and then came a certain scene.

Her writhing under him. Her rosy lips that were smiling earlier now shivered. Her cheeks paled. Her grey eyes closed. Her fingers digging into his muscular back. Then her lips

opened as she let out a wince.

The pleasure filled within him.

The sound of his grunts mixed with her moans and winces began to play like music in his ears as he lay in the bed.

One more thrust, and she came undone there against the glass wall of the washroom. The shower showering drops of water above them.

His heart began to beat wildly as he turned to his side in the bed. Everything quietened, and for a moment, he heard the tick-tock of the clock. His eyes opened again and came across the dullness of the room.

For a moment, he stared at nothing. Then glanced at the wall to figure out the time.

Another half an hour passed. It was 3 in the morning now.

But no sleep reached him.

Again, he closed his eyes.

This time around, her wet front was leaned against his toned abs, on which the drops trickled down. She breathed heavily. He had stopped moving in her and allowed her to breathe. She had come undone without his permission. His hands gently caressing her wet hair. Her teeth biting the skin against his shoulder.

His eyes opened once again. He took a deep breath now. He was getting high now. His hand formed a fist, itching to hold her locks and kiss her till she would pass out.

He sat up, resting his back against the headboard. A groan escaping his lips. As if he was controlling himself. The desire in him grew. Kept on growing as he clenched and unclenched his jaw.

He could call anyone at the moment to satisfy these over-growing desires, but no one could be even close to her. No one. That even while thrusting in and out of those bodies who were supposed to give pleasure to him, all he could think was her. And then he had stopped calling them, thinking he would go mad if he began to think so much of her.

At this point, he couldn't understand his decisions.

She caught his eyes.

She had a one-night stand with him.

And yet still, she wasn't off of his system as he had thought.

Maybe this was the reason he wanted to marry her. His mind was unclear and ambiguous as to why he was marrying her, yet all he knew was he would be marrying her at any cost.

Every cost. Let it be a knife against his throat. Or her throat. Let it be at the cost of the death

of people dear to her. But he would marry her. And not marrying her was not even an option.

He wanted more. So much more. Rather, all of her. Until this need, this raw desire was satiated.

He tried closing his eyes. And again, her grey eyes, her perfect uncovered body flashed in front of his eyes.

"Oh Sheharzaad. You will be the death of me," He gritted, before opening his eyes and getting up from his bed on his way to where his heart was leading him.

....

The doorbell rang, startling her. Her sleep was disturbed.

A frown itched on her forehead, thinking who it might be when the thought of Amna hit her mind.

She thought Amna would have come back; otherwise, who could come at her door at this hour? So, she got up and headed towards the door. Unlocked it, opened it, and then moved her eyes up from the floor only to widen them.

"You," She felt her voice getting lost suddenly. She meant to pronounce it louder, yet it only came out as a whisper.

"Did not I tell you not to open the door for anyone?" He stepped in, puffing out smoke from his lips as he held the cigarette between his fingers.

"And that too without asking, Sheharzaad," He entered her house and she was already taking a few unnoticeable steps back. He turned around, his back towards her as he worked with the lock. Twisted, turned it around, and locked it before facing her.

The cigarette was dropped from his fingers to the floor when he crushed it under his boot.

By now, her back had touched the wall as she stared at him, anxiously.

Shehryaar came closer, before placing his hand next to her head. Her eyes followed his movements.

He kept on staring at her without uttering a word.

"I w-was sleeping," She tried to initiate a conversation as the silence and his deep grey eyes were tightening the air around her lungs.

"I know,"

"Why are you here?" Her voice came out as meek, and she couldn't understand why. Maybe it was the effect of what she witnessed in that basement.

"I want you," He whispered.