A U T H O R
• F L A S H B A C K •
Amaya's tears streamed down her cheeks, glistening like fragile crystal droplets against her pale skin. The soft, broken sobs that escaped her throat pierced the silence, stirring a deep sense of urgency within Revansh. There she sat, a fragile figure curled into herself, her tiny body trembling as she buried her face in her knees.
Revansh, a few inches away, felt a magnetic pull towards her pain, yet he remained rooted in place, his own heart heavy with the wish to comfort her, to wipe away the tears that seemed to flow endlessly. "Don't cry," he spoke, his voice steady yet gentle.
Amaya lifted her head, her dark brown eyes glistening with tears, her gaze met Revansh's, who rose from his spot, the rustle of his clothes breaking the silence, and settled beside her, "Don't cry. We will run away from here," he said, his voice a soothing balm. A soft, comforting smile graced his lips, radiating warmth that enveloped Amaya, "I miss my Mumma, Papa, and Bhai," she whispered, her words laced with longing and a delicate pout formed on her little lips.
Revansh couldn't help but enfold his arms around her shoulders, enveloping Amaya in a cocoon of warmth and comfort. Amaya nestled her face into his chest, her small frame trembling as quiet sobs escaped her lips. As the minutes ticked by, an understanding began to dawn on her-crying would not mend anything she had to escape from this place. She pulled back from his embrace with a gentle resolve, her tear-streaked face lifting to meet his gaze.
Revansh, caught in the moment, stiffened in place, the reality of her presence washing over him like a tidal wave. He was awash with disbelief; how could this delicate girl, who felt so fragile against him, evoke such powerful currents of electricity within his veins? The sensation of her soft skin brushing against his sent sparks dancing across his body, igniting a fire that thrilled and terrified him.
Ignoring the swirling storm within him, he adopted a mellifluous tone, smooth and honeyed, aiming to lift her spirits. "Do you want toffee?" he asked, his voice warm. Amaya's eyes, glimmering like stars scattered across a midnight sky, she hastily nodded her head, a gesture of eager anticipation. With a soft smile tugging at his lips, Revansh slipped his hand into the depths of his pocket, fingers brushing against the crinkly wrapper of the sweet treat. He extended his hand, offering the candy a small token of joy as he placed it gently into her palm, their fingers briefly touching.
The moment she unwrapped the crinkly foil, a sweet aroma wafted through the air. Without a moment's hesitation, she popped the candy into her mouth, her cheeks puffing slightly as she savored the burst of flavor. A soft smile tugged at the corners of Revansh's lips, enchanted by her innocent enthusiasm. "What's your name?" he asked, his voice warm and inviting, pulling her attention away from the candy and toward him.
"I am Amaya," she declared, the name "Mittal" trailing after like a whispered echo. But Revansh's eyes captivate hers, a deep, whisky color. She found herself mesmerized, lost in their depths, and a simple "Oh my god, your eyes are so beautiful," tumbled from her lips. The sincerity in her gaze softened him, and a gentle smile spread across his face as a small, heartfelt "thank you" escaped from his throat.
The tranquility of the moment shattered as the door creaked open. Amaya's heart raced, a wild drum in her chest, and instinctively, she clutched Revansh's arms, her fingers digging into his skin as if he were her lifeline. The air shifted with the entry of Ciro, who stepped into the room with a deliberate slowness. He glanced around with an air of casual concern, "Hey, are you fine?" She let out a deep, shuddering breath, the tension in her shoulders easing slightly as she turned her gaze towards Ciro.
"What are you doing here?" she asked, her brow furrowing slightly as she rose gracefully from her seat. Revansh could sense the shift in dynamics as she made the introductions between him and Ciro. However, Revansh's heart tightened at Ciro's smile a charming grin that seemed to linger just a moment too long "I ran away from the room," Ciro explained timidly, "Unfortunately, they left the doors open for every room. I was just trying to open mine, and it swung wide on its own. For a moment, I thought I had some kind of superpower." He chuckled lightly, "Then I saw you through the window, and I noticed your door was also ajar, so I came in."
Before Amaya or Revansh could voice their thoughts, Ciro continued, "Let's run away from here," he urged, his eyes gleaming with a mix of determination and desperation. The two of them nodded in agreement, their hearts racing in unison as they stepped cautiously out of the dimly lit room into the corridor's harsh fluorescent light. But just as their feet began to move, their escape was abruptly halted by a chilling voice that echoed ominously through the hallway. "Where are you going?" The words dripped with malice, causing a cold shiver to crawl down their spines. Ciro and Revansh instinctively turned to face the source of the threat. Standing before them was the very figure who had taken Amaya to their boss.
As he strode toward them with a determined gait, and with a sudden shove, he propelled Revansh into the dimly lit room again, the impact causing the boy to stumble and crash unceremoniously onto the cold, unforgiving floor. The sharp clatter of his fall echoed ominously in the silence. The air felt thick with tension as he turned his attention to Amaya and Ciro, grabbing their arms firmly and guiding them back into the same room which was of their boss.
Amaya's breath hitched in her throat as dread clawed at her insides, each heartbeat thundering in her chest like a warning bell. The sight of the room sent a chill racing down her spine, reminding her of the chilling moment when innocence had shattered. Her heart began to palpitate ferociously, a wild creature trapped within her ribcage, as panic took hold. Fear wrapped around her like a vise.
Tears streamed down Amaya's cheeks, cascading like a river, each droplet a testament to her unbridled emotion. Her little eyes, once bright with hope, now shimmered with despair as she caught sight of him-Ciro-standing helplessly before her. The room felt heavy with tension, an imposing figure cloaked in authority, made a subtle yet commanding gesture to his men. They moved with precision, encircling Ciro and drawing him away to a shadowy corner, where the light failed to penetrate. Amaya's heart raced as she turned her gaze back to the boss, whose inscrutable expression loomed like a storm cloud over her fragile spirit.
"What did I hear about you trying to run away from me?" Each word dripped with menace, sending a shiver racing down her spine. His presence loomed larger as he approached, each deliberate step slow and calculated. She felt her breath quicken, her body rooted in place despite the instinct to flee. When he finally stopped just inches away, the intensity of his gaze felt like a weight pressing down on her. With a fluid motion, he reached out, his fingers brushing against her hair with an almost tender touch that sent another wave of fear coursing through her.
"And he was the one who tried to help you in it, right?" The boss's voice dripped with fury, each word laced with an intensity that gave cold sweats to Amaya. All of sudden two women burst into the room, their eyes cold devoid of any emotions. They swiftly grasped Amaya's arms, their grip firm and unyielding. The boss, a looming figure enveloped in shadows, strode toward him with menacing confidence. In a swift, aggressive motion, he pushed Ciro, sending him stumbling back and his eyes widened, reflecting the sudden shift from light to darkness.
Amaya's heart raced, a wild drumbeat echoing in her chest as her eyes locked onto the cold metal glinting in his hand. A chill crept through her, spreading from her veins to every corner of her being. Her breath hitched in her throat as tears welled up, spilling down her cheeks like tiny rivers of despair, each droplet a reflection of her growing panic. "Please put that gun down!" she shouted, her voice trembling. "He wasn't helping me, please don't shoot him!" The words tumbled out, raw and frantic.
"He was helping you, sweet girl," he thundered, his tone laced with venom, echoing off the cold, concrete surfaces. Ciro stood frozen, eyes wide with a mix of fear and dread, while the little girl, her heart racing like a drum, "No, don't shoot him! I was at fault-shoot me instead!" Her voice rang out, raw and defiant but the boss clutched the cold metal of a gun, he pointed it at Ciro's head, the threat as palpable as the tension surrounding them.
"I can't." The words escaped his lips like a fleeting whisper. Just as the syllables hung in the air, a deafening bang echoed through the room. Time seemed to freeze as Amaya's heart raced, her breath caught in her throat. Then she turned, and the sight that greeted her sent a chilling shiver down her spine. There, sprawled across the cold, unforgiving floor, lay Ciro. His body was motionless, a pool of blood spread out around him, dark and ominous, like a scarlet halo framing his still figure. Amaya felt the weight of the moment crash upon her, a tidal wave of shock, grief, and disbelief washing over her.
Just moments ago, she had felt the weight of two pairs of hands holding her, but now, an unsettling silence followed the echo of gunfire. She turned her head in horror to witness the aftermath lifeless body crumpling to the ground, the very women who had restrained her were now nothing more than shadows of their former selves. As her mind struggled to process the brutal reality, the ominous sound of another gunshot rippled through the air, this time aimed at the men who had dared to touch the innocent girl. Her heart raced, and an instinctive scream tore from her lips, "Why did you shoot them?" The question hung in the air, but the answer came cloaked in darkness-a low, chilling chuckle that sent shivers down her spine. "They touched you, sweet girl," he replied, his voice smooth yet laced with menace.
As the piercing wail of the police siren sliced through the air, a palpable tension filled the room. The boss's eyes, typically sharp and calculating, now widened in alarm, reflecting an unexpected vulnerability. His voice, usually a steady command, erupted into a thunderous demand that echoed against the stark walls. "Carlo, what's this?" he bellowed, his tone laced with urgency and disbelief.
"Boss, I think the Polizia Municipale got to know about us. We have to get out of here soon." His eyes darted around, wide with fear, the shadows dancing on his face accentuating the panic that gripped him. The boss, a figure cloaked in authority and menace, his brow furrowing into deep lines of irritation. "But how the fuck is this possible?" His voice was low and gravelly, like the rumble of distant thunder, each word dripping with disbelief and anger. His fists clenched on the table, knuckles white, as he contemplated the gravity of their situation.
"This girl's father is a big figure in India and he must have done something which makes the Polizia Municiple to know about us. I have checked her background with your permission." He pointed a finger at Amaya making her heart raced. She stood there, small and fragile, her wide eyes reflecting the world's cruelty around her. "Leave all the child here and take her with us," the boss commanded, his voice low and menacing, the authority in his tone sending chills down Amaya's spine. She felt her legs instinctively retreat, moving backward as if trying to escape from the very ground beneath her, her mind racing with thoughts of what could happen if they took her away.
Carlo's heart raced as he stood before his boss, "Boss," he urged, his voice a blend of concern and urgency, "if we take her with us, it will cause huge problems for us in the future." The weight of his words hung in the silence, and after a moment that felt like an eternity, the boss nodded, "Let's go," he replied, his tone clipped yet decisive. With a deliberate stride, he approached Amaya, his hand hovering before her face, gently caressing her cheek.
As he turned to leave, the dim light cast shadows on the floor, highlighting the pool of blood that lay heavy beneath Amaya haunting reminder of what had transpired. Alone now, her eyes flickered open, reflecting a mixture of fear and confusion as the door clicked shut behind him, sealing her fate within the echoing silence of the room.
The heavy door creaked open, its hinges groaning like a weary soul. Amaya's heart skipped a beat as she turned, her breath catching in her throat. There stood Revansh, his presence radiating warmth and reassurance. The moment their eyes met, tears pooled in her eyes, and her small legs surged forward, propelled by an instinctive need for comfort. She wrapped her arms around him, the tightness of her embrace conveying a mixture of fear and relief. Revansh felt the tremor in her small frame, the way her sobs shook her fragile body. "He killed Ciro," she breathed between gasps, her voice a mere whisper laced with anguish.
Amaya's heart raced as the familiar sound of her brother, Shaurya's voice sliced through the silence, pulling her from the bubble of warmth, "Ye toh Bhai ki aawaz hai," she mumbled, her tone infused with a mixture of excitement and urgency. Instinctively, her body reacted before her mind could catch up, she broke free from Revansh's gentle grasp, her legs swiftly carrying her toward the sound that echoed with a sense of belonging.
For Revansh, time seemed to stand still. He was enveloped in a whirlwind of thoughts, wrestling with the certainty that he would find Amaya again in the future, no matter the obstacles. In his heart, he envisioned a life where they would be together forever, an unbreakable bond that would transcend time and circumstance, even as Amaya's figure faded into the distance.
A M A Y A
My eyes fluttered open, but the world around me felt strangely silent. I blinked a few times, trying to shake off the remnants of sleep when reality crashed over me like a wave-I was alone in the bed. Kya matlab mujhe akele chhod ke chala gaya?
My thoughts were abruptly interrupted by the soft creak of the bathroom door swinging open. I swiftly turned around, and there he stood in nothing but a pair of grey trousers that clung to his form, emphasizing the contours of his well-defined physique. Water droplets glistened like tiny diamonds as they cascaded down his chiseled chest, tracing a mesmerizing path from his damp hair.
And God.
The light flickered softly across his skin, revealing a canvas of intricate dark tattoos that wove their way across his chest and curled like vines around his right shoulder. The small tattoo on the left side of his chest that intrigued me most was not obscured from my view where I was sitting. The allure of the unknown tugged at my curiosity, leaving me to wonder what words or symbols lay etched beneath the surface.
Yeah, I was so in pleasure that I didn't even comprehend to scrutinize it.
In a suit, this man is a powerhouse of intimidation, a handsome mystery, but in very little, he is... overwhelming, alarmingly breathtaking, masculine, sexy as sin, and if my brain blood wasn't between my legs right now, I would be able to think of other synonyms.
Butterflies take flight inside me.
I've never wanted to lick a man before, but right now, I want more than anything to know what his body tastes like. Power probably, if power had a taste, that's what his body would taste like. My eyes drop to the light dusting of hair on his abdominals, following the trail between the thick V-shaped muscles leading beneath his pants, where I am now staring at the dense bulge between his thighs, a shape hard to hide due to the size and girth. I can't look away.
Stop looking at his cock, Amaya. You have taken it for the whole fucking two times but still, you are being horny as fuck?
That's not my mistake, he should stop being this sexy.
Bouncing my eyes up from the thick channel of his cock, I meet his searing whisky-colored gaze. His eyes are locked on me like he is imagining tasting me the way I am imagining tasting him, "One more round?" His husky voice snapped my precious daze.
"W-what?" I stuttered, my voice barely above a whisper but my gaze shifted, almost involuntarily, to his slender fingers, which moved steadily as he picked up the t-shirt from the couch. The fabric hung loosely for a moment before it enveloped his form. He stepped closer, his long legs extending toward me, and paused, grounding himself right in front of me, "You were eyeing my cock. Do you want it again?" As he leaned in, his fingers brushed against my cheeks, their gentle caress sending shivers down my spine.
"N-no," I spoke, a mischievous chuckle escaped his throat that vibrated through the room. My gaze, flitting across the space, landed on the antique clock hanging on the wall, its face frozen at noon. A sudden jolt of realization banged me, "How many hours do I have slept?" I muttered.
"Three hours, baby," he said, his tone was so soft that I felt a flutter in my chest, "Oh," I mumbled softly, barely louder than a whisper, as I watched him move with purpose. With a practiced hand, he reached for the bedside drawer and it creaked open, his fingers deftly navigated through the clutter until he pulled out small, unassuming pills. He extended his hand, forwarding me the pills.
I gave him a questioning look which made him answer, "Morning after pills." The fuck, I had forgotten about this shit. If he had not given this to me, I would have become pregnant because of the way he cum inside me.
The moment the rim of glass brushed against my lips, his voice, deep and gravelly, halted me in my tracks. "Only I know how much I want to crush these pills right fucking now." I turned to meet his gaze, my eyes widening in surprise. In a split second, instinct kicked in, I tilted the glass to my mouth and swallowed the pills with water in one swift motion. I could feel his eyes on me, sharp and piercing, and I knew I had to act fast before he made a move I couldn't predict.
"Do you want me to get pregnant?"
"What if I told you, it's one of my desires."
Did I ever tell you that one of his favorite things is to make me speechless?
He leaned in, his breath a whisper against my skin, and pressed his soft lips onto my forehead-a gentle, tender gesture that made me feel cherished and protected. As he pulled away, a hint of a smile danced on his lips, but it was his next move that took me by surprise. He enveloped me in his arms, strong and reassuring, cocooning me in a warm embrace that contrasted sharply with my nakedness.
As he carried me effortlessly through the bathroom, the air was warm and infused with the soothing scent of lavender. He lowered me into the warm water, and I sank into the silky depths. Just as he reached for the soap, I interrupted, "I can do it alone. You have already taken your shower-if you help me, you will get wet for sure." His response was a chuckle, a soft smile curling at the corners of his lips, "I don't have any problem," he said.
I assured him I would be fine, and he could leave which he did, and take a good amount of time to carefully hang my clothes, the fabric now resting neatly on the hanger. As the door clicked shut behind him, a palpable sense of relief washed over me.
As I stepped out of the warm water, droplets of water clung to my skin like tiny jewels, glistening in the soft light of the bathroom. I reached for the plush towel hanging nearby. Wrapping it securely around myself, and with another towel in hand, I dried my fingers methodically, the soft cotton absorbing the last remnants of moisture.
Just then, a gentle, rhythmic knock interrupted the serenity of the moment, echoing softly against the wooden door. It must be Revansh. "Baby, are you fine?" His voice, smooth and tender, floated through the air. A smile blossomed on my lips, lighting up my face, as the sound of his concern melted away any lingering chill, filling my heart with warmth and affection. "Did you wear your clothes?" He asked again.
"No, I am in a towel," Just as my fingers brushed the edge of my bra, the door creaked open, revealing him tall, with an imposing presence that seemed to fill the space around us. He strode forward with a confidence that commanded attention, his long legs carrying him closer. Our eyes locked, his gaze was intense, filled with an unspoken authority that sent a shiver down my spine. With a steady voice, I reiterated, "I told you I am just in the towel."
As his lips hovered tantalizingly close to mine, when he murmured in a low and seductive voice, "The reason why I came inside," I felt the heat of his breath against my skin, his fingers, gentle yet assertive, traced a path to the edge of the towel draped around me, teasingly brushing against my bare skin. With one swift motion, the towel slipped away, pooling at my feet, leaving me completely exposed before him and I stood naked once again, captivated by the hunger in his eyes.
"You love to see me naked?"
"How do you read my mind?"
Blood surged through my cheeks, igniting them in a vivid crimson hue that mirrored the rising heat coursing through my body. His lips grazed my skin with a tantalizing softness and stirred a deep, primal desire within me. Without warning, he captured my lips with his own in a fierce, passionate kiss. It was a kiss that demanded attention, devouring every inch of my mouth as if he were savoring a forbidden treat. I surrendered to the moment, kissing him back with equal fervor.
As his hand glided down from my waist, and paused, teasingly resting against the softness of my breast, his grip was firm yet gentle, a dance of exploration as he kneaded and pinched, each movement sending shivers of pleasure radiating from the point of contact. Meanwhile, his mouth captured mine with an intensity that felt all-consuming, as if he were savoring every moment, every nuance of our connection.
As he pulled away from the kiss, his gaze lingered on me for a moment longer. His hands gently glided over the fabric of my clothes and undergarments which were placed on a hanger, and he made me wear it. With a playful smirk, he effortlessly lifted me into his arms, cradling me as if I were the most precious thing in the world and together, we moved toward the room.
He gently guided me to sit on the plush bed. The rich aroma of garlic paneer wafted through the air, mingling delightfully with the familiar scent of my all-time favorite fried rice. As picked the plate in his hand and fed me affectionately. "Do you want to watch a movie, baby?" He asked with a playful glint in his eyes and placed the plate on the table again, but before I could respond, he leaned down and placed a tender kiss on my forehead.
"Barbie movie?" I asked, what? I am just a girl. My eyes were wide and shimmering, and the corners of my lips dipped into a playful pout, a gesture that never failed to tug at his heart. As he caught my gaze, a soft smile broke across his face. In a tender moment, he leaned closer, brushing his lips against my pouty ones, and placed a gentle kiss, "Jo kaho woh karunga, meri jaan," he whispered, his voice filled with sincerity.
As Revansh handed me his laptop, the screen lit up with the familiar glow of the search tab, with a playful grin, I typed in the title 'Barbie: Princess Charm School,' my heart fluttering with anticipation. The moment the movie began to play I nestled comfortably against his warm chest, I could feel the rhythmic rise and fall of his breathing. His arms encircled my waist, a gentle yet firm embrace that made me feel secure. While my gaze was glued to the screen, I could sense his eyes lingering on my face.
Out of nowhere, a sudden question pierced through me, I twirled my head, and my heart raced-his warm, soft gaze already locked onto mine, "Where is Kiara?" I blurted out, my curiosity cutting through the ambient sounds of the movie. In an instant, the softness that had once radiated from him was replaced by a tension that tightened the corners of his mouth and darkened his eyes. "Office," he replied to which I nodded but my mind was still overthinking about Kiara.
"Don't overthink, baby. Watch the movie." He says and places a kiss on my head.
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