My last series of updates had very low responses :( But some dear online friends made me still feel special and appreciated, you guys  mean a lot to me: Khushiyan789 Suhani2611 mightypanda300, dedicating this part to you all!

So if you're still here, your support on my last few updates would go a long way, thank you so much, and beyond excited to see or hear what you have to say about this one <3

Also a heads-up: this is a dark story, and there are certain controversial takes and concepts introduced in this book for fictional purposes. So if you are looking for a mushy, cute kind of love story, this won't be your cup of tea, but if you are here for something intense, dangerous and passionate... can I take your order? :P

𓆩𓆪

So it had come to this... she was going to make herself bait to save her friend from danger.

Manik's hand had detached from her round cheek and dropped to the space between her jaws and shoulders, where a lock of hair cloaked her neck. Between every hasty breath of his, Nandini's inviting lips, that were emphasised perfectly by the scattered candles in the area, and her trance-like glimmering eyes were insolently sized up with a lingering roguish possessiveness.

Nandini's soul had skipped out of her body. It was not supposed to enchant her, but if his plan was to charm her, he knew exactly what he was doing. The icy metal on Nandini's back was her only reminder that she was still a physical part of Earth, and had not transcended into the magical plights of an afterlife. What she was considering doing was so wrong, but it was the only way she could right his wrongs.

Gently, her cuffed hand had come in contact with his hanging one, wrapped around his fingers, and snapped him back to his senses.

He stared at it, the negligible gap between them, and then her once again as he relentlessly backed off. His Adam's apple, that was in her direct line of sight, sprung as if he had painfully swallowed. 

"Umm... Uh... You should – um – eat something."

Sidelining her own palpitations, she sought his cuffed wrist and slipped his hand into her hold properly the second time, tracing his banded finger. He paused, but showed signs of resistance until she batted her eyelashes as him, then he was clean bowled.

Gorgeous swipes of wispy, wavy hair perfectly framed his stunning features. Manik had somehow appeared exactly like the man she swiped on, not the Manik she had been with or around. No bushy hair, no well-trimmed stubble. It was as if someone had walked into his life and changed him completely. Shielding herself from that strain of having foregone him, she intently watched him without breaking down.

Was the man who ruled her consciousness actually taken?

Partly possessive herself and partly overcome by her anger for his actions, Nandini tactfully clawed his vest straps and yanked him towards her. His arms instinctively hovered around her frame, and he gasped as her breasts pushed into him.

Manik's breath was already knocked out of his lungs when she touched him first, but as he felt her warmth and breath on him, he realised he was losing it. God, Nandini knew exactly what she was doing when she gave Manik that longing look.

"You have me now, Manik," she murmured, still gazing.

Irrationally blinking at the confession, Manik watched her tantalising fingers move upwards at a snail's pace, from his right forearm, around that elbow and up that bicep while she watched him. Out of sheer impulse, he had flexed it, and goosebumps cascaded from the trailing warmth of her. The unforeseen effect she had on him had her marvelling.

"Does she make you feel like this?" Nandini's voice unexpectedly cracked, but she ensured to keep her composure intact as she focused on her touch.

He was keeping his own sanity in check by clutching the sides of her waist, hard and tight, almost digging his nails into her skin. "Who?"

"The woman you're committed to."

She was certain she heard something akin to a snigger, but before she caught onto it, his strong arm that she was stroking wrapped around her waist, firmly pulling her to him while his cuffed left hand anchored her face for another gentle peck on a cheek. Wincing at the sensation, she was reminded of the days when he courted her and used his hands and lips tactfully to arouse her.

All that for what?

The intimate flashback, of what was once a dream come true, filled her tear ducts once again.

"There is nobody else," he uttered against her cheek, tenderly grazing over it with his thumb.

Yet, another lie.      

She was oblivious to the fact that in the literal sense, he had been cuffed to her.

His impudent grin at her fierce protectiveness, something nobody else exhibited towards him, vanished at the sight of another teardrop rolling. He managed to flick it onto the thumb that was still on her cheek, but it pained him. "Why these constant tears?" Manik helplessly asked with a faltering voice and tucked a small portion of her loose hair behind her ear.

"I really hate you..." She painfully whispered, ignoring the somersaults that snowballed in her stomach with every expression of his affection.

He brought his hands up to caress Nandini's face, alternating his eyes to those full cheeks that he pined for all those months to feel the softness of again, and her gorgeous round eyes that ruthlessly held his heart at her mercy. Her eyes had the power to render him a slave.

A slave to her command.

Her round nose, red at the tip from all her crying from earlier, was begging to be kissed. He pecked it, as she gazed at him with a mix of shock and pleasure. And her lush tempting lips, even the Lords had not known the formidable restraint he possessed to stop himself from marking them his.

He wet a thumb on his front teeth, and ran it along her lower lip in a tantalising manner, smearing it across. She swallowed hard, struggling to think straight as he seduced her in his own tormenting style. Being locked in the mansion was dangerous, being around him alone was extremely dangerous, but beyond all, surrendering to him... that was a recipe for death on a platter, but she matched his intensity by fearlessly looking him in the eye.

Every cell in her body had blazed at the thought of him being someone else's man, but now... between his arms... it all felt so insignificant. He could very well be somebody else's partner and she was slipping into morally grey territory if she thought about it further, but she didn't.

As his drugged gaze flickered to her, he tentatively mused whether she really did hate him, because that would explain some of her actions that night. Only some, or was that just him hoping for a tunnel of light in pitch-black?

"Are you sure, Nandini?"  

His near plead had her clenching her eyes shut. Yes, her answer should have been yes, but she couldn't lie like him. It wasn't right. Everything said and done, she was just not like him. That horrifying punch was proof enough, that even if he had broken her heart before, she could not knowingly inflict pain on him, or anyone... she could not live with that and let it be that way.

And that gut-wrenching realisation had her crippling from the inside, torn between comforting him but betraying herself, and betraying him but comforting herself.

"Manik... kiss me," she breathed, impulsively nudging her chin upwards as his thumb ran backward along her lower lip line. What she had thought was the perfect opportunity for her – to right the wrongs, to fully feel him, and use her consent this time and rewrite horrid memories as she would regain control – no longer held true. The part of her brain that was supposed to taunt her about losing herself yet again to him was long shut off from oxygen supply.

Magnetised by the unexpected request, he shifted from the torturous pout to her dilated eyes. The last time she said those words, he had promised himself that it would be the last. He had not wanted to be selfish, or to string her along. That had been a deadly mistake, for she consumed him bit by bit every breathing living second of his existence. Only this time, he was not sure he had enough of himself left to be selfless for her and make such promises for her.

He reeled to that night when he had dosed her up, carried her to the bed, and showered her with kisses from her fingers to her shoulders – unable to bear the thought of leaving her side – not abandoning a single inch of exposed skin. The moment she passed out, he had lovingly tucked her into the covers.

Wanting to possess some sort of memory of her for the rest of his life, he took out his pocket knife and mindlessly cut a slit through her kurti, picking at as many of those stray strings as he could own. The sanity of it – or insanity, rather – had not crossed his mind in the midst of his selfishness, but today, albeit in secret, he proudly endorsed it on a finger.

Marking a first in his life – a peaceful night of sleep for the very first time since joining the Professor's cartel.

He had vouched that night that it was the right decision to make – for her to hate him and move on from him forever while having tremendous faith in himself to go back to his life before her.

Yet, there they were: Nandini supposedly hating his guts yet struggling to imagine a life where he would not exist, and Manik spewing tens of thousands of lies to push her away from his sinful life, yet dying a little every day he spent apart from her.

Unable to resist each other any longer, they both leaned in. In the last moment, he tipped her chin and let their lips connect after what seemed like decades of a drought-stricken land relishing her first rain of monsoon. Manik's soft smile lingered over her mouth amidst the soul-snatching kiss that twisted her insides into a firm, nauseating knot. Her heart shattered all over again as a snarky mind-voice pointed fingers and mocked her for destroying herself for some petty moments of passion.

She shelved the thought selfishly and wiggled an arm around his neck while the other grazed his back as she nervously registered a gush between her thighs.

Taking her enthusiasm in a delightful stride, he wove fingers into the silky tresses at the nape of her neck as he traded claiming her lips to slipping in some tongue.

Manik had never been more serene; in fact, he had forgotten what it felt like to be so fucking happy. Kissing her felt as intoxicating as it had seven months ago, the peace that overtook him had been just the same, like she was the woman made to destroy him, and this time he was welcoming his end with open arms.

When he felt her tears on his cheeks, his beaming smile was snatched from his face and stomped on. They separated briefly for a breath, and as the pads of his thumbs rubbed her face, Manik muttered over her lips, "You said hate... hate is not a good enough reason for these." Panting from the incredibly intense moment that had her yearning for more, she opened her eyes, staring into his soul. "Hope," His eyes answered his own question and glittered magically at the word, and he lovingly traced her face, speaking a language their internal struggles both understood.

It was not the confession she had expected – in fact she had given up all expectations when she begged for his kiss – but in that split-second, Nandini was certain of one thing... and one thing alone.

What she felt for him was not one-sided. 

There were no words that could describe the immense exhilaration flooding through her frame, emerging from a space in her heart and spreading rapidly all over. As she heavily breathed unable to withstand the spectrum of her bombarding emotions, Manik stilled.

"Tell me to stop, Nandini." He uttered, knowing full well she would, given the appalling conclusion she came to about his character, he thought sardonically.

Nandini held the hand behind her neck, unlocking it from there and slowly drew it down to one of her breasts, resting his hand beneath the curve there. "Don't stop, Manik," She mumbled, hooking her thumbs under his earlobes and putting her warm mouth over his for a fleeting moment.

Fuck! He cursed under his breath, locking arms around her frame and lifting her up. The height advantage she had then allowed her tongue to dip into his, tantalising him with her carnal impulses. She wanted to do more to him, for him, but did not know how or where to begin.

Slow steady steps were being taken in some unknown direction. His shins hit something, and he plopped into a seating position as she straddled him. His arousal struggled in his jeans while their mouths were still mesmerising each other.

Manik's jaw moved along the contours of hers as he held her firmly in his lap, leaving a trail of soft kisses until her neck. Underlining the topical hints of coconut and vanilla was a particular natural scent he associated with her. He spent a significant amount of time around that area, relishing it while her stomach flipped in a whirlpool of sensations.

Eager to give back pleasure, on some levels, if not in ways that could match his skills, she held his jaws and peppered in pecks across his face that got him gripping the sides of her waist. She tilted him to one side, exposing his neck, where the sweet assault continued. At one particular spot just below his earlobe, his nails dug into her flesh.

"Don't do that, Nandini," he warned, adjusting her over his lap, and controlling the animalistic urge to escalate the situation to bounds the woman had never experienced.

He shifted her hair from one shoulder and made space under his red collar-flap for his lips to devour. A note was uncontrollably released from her parted lips as he sucked and nibbled her skin. As he latched, her palms dug into his hair, bunching them. He smirked as he continued, and after a certain interval of time that he had discerned through experience, he lifted his head and admired the bright red bruise he had embedded on her skin.

He dazedly drew curves along the side of her neck with his tongue, momentarily sucking her skin to incite a moan, now that he knew what made her tick. It was a sound that he wished to engrave in his brain forever. As he gently bit down on a bare earlobe, she hissed his name like it was a prayer that soothed her sorrows.

Fuck! He had never wanted a woman more. 

Encouraged by her whimper, he drew her closer, and pressed his nose under her earlobe in a low, hushed tone, "Your earring is missing."

Nandini heaved a breath and responded, "I don't care."

"But I need to find it," he stated, amused by the unfiltered sexual tension between them. He couldn't believe she lacked experience in that domain; she had completely fallen in sync with him, butting heads with him when it came to inducing pleasure. Was that what compatibility was?

If so, how the fuck had he lived for so long without her? Merely existing was a better way to describe the two and a half decades of his life.

Her hands dove into his hair, weaving through them as she directed him back to her face, to feel those lips meet hers. To combust the pulsing between her legs, her hips churned to instigate contact but his grip on her restrained himself, and her, from going any further.

Slow, he had to take it slow. 

He lowered her on the couch and detached from her lips as he went south, her throat dancing with every gulp as he pecked his way down to the valley between her breasts and stared at her intensely from there.

Disheveled hair, darkened eyes and with flushed lips fuller than before, she laid in his clothes under him.

She was the female form of a devil incarnated. His destruction.

As her own hands impatiently fumbled and made their way to the buttons on her shirt, the reality of what was about to transpire crossed his mind. Even without thoroughly being hers, he was dying a little everyday. What would happen if he surrendered himself, or worse – lost himself completely, to her?

Manik anchored himself on his knees and hopped off the couch, extremely restrained in his breathing until he faced his back to her and then blowed a big O. As he stressfully ran his fingers through his hair condoning his impulses, Nandini confusedly sat up, fiddling with the first button she had undone.

Did she do something to put him off or kill the sensual mood they were both seemingly in?

She was sure he was aroused too, she had felt it and he even went the extra mile to please her and get her in the mood in ways she had not known was possible, then why was he resisting her... unless...

But he had said there was no one else in his life.

What was the guarantee he had not been lying again, to have his ways?

What ways though? She had surrendered to him, but he still stopped... hadn't he?

There was no reason for him to lie. It was mostly gut instinct assuring her of that, but a sliver of it had been crystallised by clean evidence that despite receiving her consent, and, not to mention – co-operation, Manik had not gone ahead with it.

Throughout the night, there were innumerable instances where he could have exercised his power over her... as he rightly detailed himself, she had bitten him, punched him, scolded him and what not... but he had not retorted in any way.

Instead, the most inappropriate thing he had done was kiss her... and could she even call that, when she shamelessly begged for him to do so?

All night, all it took was one word or one objectionable action from Nandini and he complied with her. She was perhaps deluded in her present claims, but at least she was completely conscious. And he still didn't go further.

No way in hell did he take advantage of her vulnerable state that night.

𓆩𓆪

Holy freaking hell, I cannot breathe! Oh, dear Lord, have mercy on my MaNan heart! And the passion has just begun; how am I going to match up to them?!

Was any of it vulgar? This is the first time I've written anything this spicy, and I think MaNan being in it have literally brought me to my knees! I'm literally not okay, guys, I think I'm going to douse myself in PaNi to cope with this :D

Any support is appreciated. I would really really love it if you could drop some comments and thoughts (happy to hear criticism too :) )

Don't forget the orange star at the bottom! Cheers! :P