The desert sun, a molten orb, bled across the ancient sandstone palace, painting its intricate jharokhas in hues of fiery orange and deep rose. Inside, away from the day's fading heat, a different kind of warmth bloomed. Anirudh, King of Rajasthan, watched Aayat, his queen, as she moved through their chambers, her silken ghagra swishing with each graceful step. Her laughter, a chime of silver bells, drifted to him from the dressing table where she fussed with a stray curl, her reflection shimmering in the polished mirror.
"Still preening, my queen?" Anirudh's voice, a low rumble, wrapped around her, possessive and tender. He leaned against the carved archway, his arms crossed over his brocaded chest, a faint, indulgent smile playing on his lips.
Aayat turned, her eyes, dark pools reflecting the dying light, sparkled with mischief.
"And you, my king, still watching?"
She teased, her fingers dancing lightly over the delicate gold embroidery on her blouse.
"One would think you have seen enough of me."
He pushed off the archway, his strides long and deliberate, closing the distance between them.
"Never enough."
He reached her, his large hand cupping her jaw, thumb tracing the delicate curve of her cheekbone. Her skin, soft as rose petals, flushed under his touch. His gaze, intense and unwavering, devoured her face, lingering on the full curve of her lips.
"Every time I look, I find a new reason to look again."
Aayat's breath hitched, a soft gasp escaping her. Her hand instinctively went to his chest, feeling the solid beat of his heart beneath the silk.
"Such words, my lord. One might believe them."
"Believe them."
His voice deepened, a velvet command. He lowered his head, his lips brushing hers, a feather-light touch that promised more. Her scent, a heady mix of jasmine and warm skin, filled his senses, intoxicating. He felt the familiar surge of desire, a primal thrumming in his veins that only she could ignite. He deepened the kiss, his mouth claiming hers with a fierce tenderness. Her lips parted, soft and yielding, inviting him in. His tongue swept inside, exploring the warm, wet cavern, tangling with hers in a dance of increasing urgency. A soft moan escaped her throat, a delicious sound that fueled his hunger.
He backed her against the cool marble of the dressing table, his body pressing against hers, molding them together. Her hands, delicate yet strong, fisted in his long, dark hair, tugging gently, urging him closer. He felt the soft swell of her breasts against his chest, the brush of her nipples through the fabric, hardening in anticipation. A shiver coursed through her, and she arched into him, a silent plea.
"My queen," he murmured against her lips, pulling back just enough to gaze into her eyes, dark with burgeoning passion.
"You set my blood aflame."
Her fingers trailed down his back, sending delicious shivers through him.
"And you, my king, quench no thirst."
He chuckled, a low, husky sound. His hands moved, swift and practiced, unfastening the ties of her ghagra, letting the heavy fabric pool at her feet. Then, his fingers sought the delicate hooks of her choli, slowly revealing the creamy expanse of her stomach, the gentle curve of her ribs, and finally, her full, round breasts. They spilled from the fabric, pale and lush, her nipples, tight buds, beckoning.
He lowered his head, his tongue tracing a path from her collarbone down to the valley between her breasts, sending goosebumps prickling over her skin. She gasped, her head falling back, exposing the elegant line of her throat. He suckled at one nipple, drawing it deep into his mouth, his tongue swirling around it, the wet heat a dizzying sensation. Aayat cried out, a strangled sound of pure pleasure, her fingers digging into his shoulders. He moved to the other breast, lavishing it with the same attention, alternating between gentle nips and greedy suckling, until both nipples were swollen and slick.
His hands roamed lower, over the soft skin of her belly, the slight indentation of her navel, before dipping between her legs. She wore nothing beneath, and his fingers found the moist heat of her pussy, already slick and ready for him. He slipped a finger inside, a low groan escaping his lips as he felt the tight grip of her walls. She bucked against his touch, her hips grinding into his hand, a frantic rhythm building between them.
"Please, Anirudh," she panted, her voice thick with desire.
"Now."
He lifted her, her legs instinctively wrapping around his waist, her pussy pressing against his hard, throbbing cock, which strained against the confines of his trousers. He carried her to their bed, a vast expanse of silk and velvet, and laid her down gently. He shed his own clothes with practiced ease, his eyes never leaving her, devouring her naked form, spread out before him like a feast.
He knelt between her legs, his cock, thick and engorged, throbbing with anticipation. He kissed her again, a deep, hungry kiss, as he slowly, deliberately, pushed into her. Aayat gasped, her nails raking his back as he filled her, stretching her, claiming her entirely. He paused, letting her adjust to his size, feeling the delicious tightness, the wet heat engulfing him.
"You are mine," he whispered, his voice raw with emotion, his hips beginning to move, a slow, rhythmic thrust that built in intensity.
"Yours,"
she echoed, her hips rising to meet his, matching his rhythm, their bodies slick with sweat, the sounds of their joining filling the chamber.
*Schlick, schlick, squelch.*
The air was thick with their scent, the musk of sex and arousal. He drove into her, harder and faster, each thrust deeper than the last, her cries mingling with his own guttural moans. Her pussy gripped him, milking him, urging him on, and he felt the delicious pressure building, the exquisite tension coiling in his gut.
He felt her climax first, a series of frantic shudders that wracked her body, her pussy clenching around him, squeezing him, stealing his breath. Her nails dug into his skin, her head thrashing on the pillow, a long, drawn-out cry escaping her lips. And then, he followed, a violent release that sent shivers through his entire being, his cock pulsing deep inside her, spilling his seed into her warm depths. He collapsed onto her, his body heavy and sated, their breaths coming in ragged gasps.
They lay tangled together, the afterglow a soft haze around them, until the last vestiges of light faded from the sky and the first stars pricked through the velvet canvas of night.
Two days later, the air in the palace felt different, thinner, tinged with a subtle anxiety Anirudh couldn't quite place. He had returned from Udaipur, a quick, necessary trip to secure a new trade route, leaving Aayat behind despite his urge to take her with him. He had missed her, the ache of her absence a constant dull throb beneath his ribs. Now, as his palanquin entered the palace gates, the usual fanfare felt muted. Courtiers and guards bowed low, their faces solemn. He strode through the grand halls, expecting to see her, to feel her rush into his arms, but she was nowhere.
"Where is the queen?" he asked, his voice cutting through the hushed silence. A nervous shuffle went through the assembled staff. No one met his gaze.
He scoffed, a humorless sound. "She thinks to punish me for leaving, does she? Hiding in our chambers, no doubt." A dangerous glint entered his eyes. "She will find herself punished instead."
He dismissed the lingering guards with a flick of his wrist and stalked towards their private apartments, his boots echoing loudly on the marble floor. The scent of jasmine, Aayat's signature fragrance, usually clung to the air here, but today it was faint, almost imperceptible. He pushed open the heavy sandalwood door to their bedchamber. The room was bathed in the soft, diffused light filtering through the intricate latticework, but it felt empty, cold.
"Aayat?" he called out, his voice sharp, a tremor of unease beginning to ripple through him. Silence.
He swept through the room, his eyes scanning every corner. The silken drapes, usually drawn back, hung limply. Her favorite shawl lay discarded on a chaise, but no Aayat. He checked the adjoining bathing chambers, the balcony overlooking the inner courtyard, even the small, hidden alcove where she sometimes read. Nothing.
A cold dread began to coil in his stomach, tightening with each empty space. He returned to the bedchamber, a furious frown creasing his brow. His gaze fell upon the dressing table. There, glinting innocently under the soft light, lay her nuptial chain, its intricate gold links intertwined with small, shimmering rubies.
His breath caught. This had happened before. But this time, the feeling was different. He reached out, his fingers closing around the cool metal. This time, there was no note, no playful hint of her whereabouts. Just the chain, abandoned.
A slow, terrifying rage began to simmer within him, a dark heat spreading through his chest. He clutched the chain, the delicate links digging into his palm, a physical manifestation of the tightening grip around his heart.
"Enough," he growled, the word a venomous whisper, lost in the silent room. "Enough of this game. Enough of this… freedom." His knuckles whitened around the chain. "I gave her space. I gave her trust. But this… this is too much." His eyes, usually warm and loving when they looked at her, hardened into chips of obsidian. "She thinks she can run? She thinks she can hide?" A chilling smile, devoid of humor, stretched his lips. "This time, my queen, when I find you, you will not leave this room. Not for a moment. Not for a breath. You will be mine, truly mine, locked away from the world, from any thought of escape." The thought, once a fleeting darkness, now solidified into a terrifying promise. "I will tie her down, if I have to. I will build walls around her, stronger than any in this palace. She will learn what it means to belong to a king. To belong to me."
He stormed out of the chambers, the nuptial chain still clutched in his hand, its presence a burning accusation. His footsteps thundered through the silent corridors, the sound a harbinger of the storm to come. He burst into the grand hall, his eyes blazing, a predator scenting blood.
The entire household was there, gathered in a silent, terrified tableau. The Rajmata, her usually stern face etched with worry, stood among them, her head bowed. Ministers, courtiers, guards, servants – all stood with downcast eyes, a collective air of guilt and fear hanging heavy in the air. They knew. They all knew.
Anirudh's gaze swept over them, a chilling silence descending. "Where is she?" His voice was low, dangerously calm, but it carried the weight of an approaching tempest.
No one dared to meet his eyes, let alone speak. A collective intake of breath was the only sound.
His jaw clenched. "I asked," he repeated, each word dripping with menace, "where is my queen?"
Still, silence. The air crackled with tension, thick and suffocating.
A vein throbbed in Anirudh's temple. His eyes narrowed, scanning their faces, searching for a hint, a flicker of deceit. His gaze landed on a small, intricately carved side table, laden with a heavy bronze lamp. With a sudden, explosive roar, he lashed out, his foot connecting with the table's leg. *CRACK!*
The wood splintered with a deafening sound, the bronze lamp crashing to the marble floor, shattering into a dozen pieces. Shards of metal skittered across the polished surface. A collective gasp rose from the terrified assembly.
He stood amidst the wreckage, his chest heaving, his eyes burning holes into their downcast faces.
"Let me make myself clear." His voice was a low growl, more animal than man.
"If she is not found, if I do not have answers, there will be consequences. Consequences you will all regret."
He paused, letting the chilling threat sink in. "Now. Where. Is. Aayat?"
A small, whimpering sound broke the silence. His sister, Princess Meera, a delicate woman usually brimming with grace, stood trembling, her eyes wide with terror. She clutched her hands to her chest, her knuckles white.
"She…" Meera's voice was barely a whisper, a fragile thread in the suddenly heavy air. "She… she ran away." Her gaze flickered to her brother's face, then quickly dropped again, unable to meet the inferno in his eyes. "With… with someone."