Sasur ji's smirk deepened as his fingers traced a possessive path down my sweat-slicked spine. "Abhi," he growled, nipping at my swollen lower lip while pulling me upright with one rough hand tangled in my hair, "Tere kamre mein chal." The command sent fresh heat pooling between my thighs as my bare feet hit the tiled floor, my legs nearly buckling when his palm smacked against my ass—a sharp, stinging promise.

("Now,")