Page 72 of Trapped By the Maharaja
His mouth captured her moans, kissing her hard as his fingers drove into her faster. She gasped against his mouth, while her body began tightening. Pleasure coiled low in her belly. She clawed at his shoulders desperately, burning with a need.
His fingers moved faster inside her.
Her head thrashed against the mirror. She gasped and cried out. And then, a shudder ripped through her. Her eyes flew wide open and her body arched violently against him. Her inner muscles clenched hard around his fingers and she screamed.
She didn’t know how long her entire body continued to shake violently, but after a while, she shuddered hard and slumped against him, panting.
Outside, the chime of a distant palace clock echoed through the silent suite. Seven. Sanjana blinked and slowly her mind began clearing.
The reality crashed over her.
She pushed against his chest. “Ram, stop,” she gasped.
Ram didn't move. His chest heaved, and his gaze remained locked on her face, hunger swirling in his eyes.
“Ram, please. We’ll be late,” she urged. “Your mother is waiting.”
Just when she thought he wouldn’t listen, he slowly withdrew his finger.
He then lifted his wet fingers to his lips and tasted her. She shuddered.
“Next time,” he said with a dark promise. “It won't be my finger. It'll be my tongue and my cock buried inside you.”
Sanjana shuddered, the vivid image flooding her mind despite her frantic attempts to push it away. The tremor that ran through her wasn't entirely anger or fear. Her traitorous body still hummed, slick and sensitive. “You are disgusting,” she choked out.
His mouth twisted into a dark smile as he stepped back. She felt the keen loss of his body heat. She watched as he turned and walked towards his own meticulously organized section of the closet. He moved with smooth confidence, the towel hanging precariously low on his hips. Her helpless gaze followed the powerful lines of his back, the water droplets catching the light.
Suddenly, the towel fell and pooled soundlessly at his feet. She stifled a gasp as her eyes greedily took in the stark expanse of his naked, muscled back.
He abruptly turned and met her gaze. She froze. Her breath caught inside her chest and her eyes dropped instinctively. Her eyes widened, taking in the large, thick, fully erect, pulsing manhood. She stared, momentarily paralyzed by the sheer primal reality of him.
A choked gasp tore from her throat. Panic surged, and she scrambled backwards, stumbling over the discarded blue silk dress. Her hands flew up, covering herself inadequately. She couldn’t look away from his intense stare or the blatant evidence of his arousal. Panic and unwanted heat warred within her.
She fled. The crumpled blue silk dress fell as she bolted across the cool marble floor of the closet and went to the bathroom. She wrenched the heavy door open, stumbled inside, and slammed it shut. Her trembling fingers fumbled for the lock, clicking it into place with frantic urgency. Only then, braced against the chilled wood, did she dare to breathe.
Her reflection in the large wall-to-wall mirror shocked her. Her hair was wild and tangled, her face was flushed, and her lipswere swollen from Ram's bruising kiss. The torn remnants of her bra hung apart, exposing her hardened nipples, bruised red from his mouth. Her lower body was completely bare, with wetness between her legs. She recalled the feel of his finger moving inside her and the intense climax ripped from her against the mirrored closet wall.
Shuddering, she closed her eyes.
Ram had nearly consummated their marriage in the closet, and she had almost let him.
Her face burned, and she felt a throbbing need once again.
I can’t let him near me again. I must put an end to this marriage.
???
By the time Sanjana walked towards the grand dining hall, she looked outwardly composed even though inside she wasn’t. The encounter in the closet continued to haunt her.
Taking a deep breath, she pushed those moments away from her mind.
Lalita and Kumari escorted her into the dining area.
Seated at the long, polished teak table, Queen was the very picture of regal authority. The deep emerald of her sari was perfectly draped, her antique gold jewelry gleaming softly in the warm chandelier light.
Taking a steadying breath, Sanjana moved forward and slipped into the chair opposite her, right beside the head of the table where Ram normally sat.
Ram’s chair at the head of the table was empty. Relief slid through her chest. She had a chance to speak with Suchitra Devi. All she had to do is find the right moment.
