“Say it.”
His voice was low.
Dangerously soft. A whisper curled around her throat like silk—and steel.
Inaaya’s breath trembled as she looked up at him from the floor, knees burning against cold marble.
Her lips were parted. Swollen. Her eyes glassy with tears—of humiliation… or hunger, she couldn’t tell anymore.
He hadn’t touched her yet.
But he owned her.
Heart. Body. Mind.
And she let him.
Raunak Vikrant Malhotra.
The billionaire.
The kingpin.
Her boss.
Her ruin.
He stood above her like sin sculpted in Armani—sleeves rolled, belt loose, the dark ink on his forearm catching the low gold light.
“Say it, Inaaya,” he murmured, crouching down in front of her. His knuckles brushed her cheek.
“I want to hear it from those pretty lips.”
She shook her head. “I—I can’t…”
He smiled, the kind of smile that promised destruction.
“You already have, sweetheart. With every gasp. Every moan. Every time you came undone on my fingers, my mouth… my cock.”
Her body flinched, heat spiraling down her spine.
He leaned in, his forehead resting against hers for one devastating second.
“You belong to me now,” he whispered.
“And when I’m inside you tonight, there’ll be no room for doubt.”
Her lips parted.
And finally… she said it.
“I’m yours.”
He grinned like a sinner who’d just claimed salvation.
“No, little one. You’re my fantasy made real.”
---
Let the game begin.
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