Her Arms Around His Waist
That day blurred.
The classroom.
The noise.
The world.
Everything faded into the background—because every time Siyara blinked, she remembered how his hands had held her, how his mouth had tasted hers like she was forbidden.
Yuvraj Singh Rathore.ML.
*He couldn’t concentrate. Couldn’t breathe without wanting to kiss her again.*
So when class ended, he didn’t ask.
He just walked up to her desk, bent slightly, and said it low—just for her ears.
Yuvraj Singh Rathore.ML.
(darkly):
“Get on my bike.”
Siyara Banerjee.FL.
(surprised):
“Where?”
Yuvraj Singh Rathore.ML.
(grinning):
“Anywhere you want to be touched again.”
Siyara Banerjee.FL.
*Her breath caught.*
An Hour Later | The Open Road
They didn’t speak much.
She sat behind him, arms wrapped tightly around his waist, her cheek resting lightly against his back.
And he rode—fast enough to escape reality, slow enough to feel her pressed against him.
The sun melted into the horizon as the roads narrowed into countryside.
He pulled off near a secluded field, the kind where silence wasn’t awkward—it was loaded.
Siyara Banerjee.FL.
*She got off the bike, eyes bright and nervous.*
Yuvraj Singh Rathore.ML.
(watching her):
“You don’t even realize what you do to me, do you?”
She looked up at him, the wind catching the edge of her kurti.
Siyara Banerjee.FL.
(quietly):
“I feel it. Every time you look at me like that.”
Yuvraj Singh Rathore.ML.
*He stepped close—too close.*
And without a word, his hands slid to her hips, pulling her flush against him again.
His forehead touched hers.
Yuvraj Singh Rathore.ML.
(low):
“One kiss on a rooftop wasn’t enough.”
He kissed her again—rougher this time, like the ride had built up everything he was holding back.
Siyara Banerjee.FL.
*Her hands slipped under his jacket, pressing flat against his chest, feeling the thrum of his heart—fast, heavy.*
His lips left hers only to find her neck.
He kissed lower, his hands gripping her waist tighter as he whispered between kisses.
Yuvraj Singh Rathore.ML.
(voice ragged):
“I thought touching you once would calm me…
But it just made me want to take my time undoing you.”
Siyara Banerjee.FL.
(blushing, breathless):
“We’re outside…”
Yuvraj Singh Rathore.ML.
(smirking):
“Then scream quietly.”
Siyara Banerjee.FL.
*She gasped.*
Yuvraj Singh Rathore.ML.
*He slid her dupatta off her shoulder, eyes locked on hers the entire time.*
Then his fingers slipped beneath the neckline of her kurti—slow, teasing, reverent. Just enough to reveal the curve of her upper chest, warm and untouched.
Siyara Banerjee.FL.
*She gasped, clutching his shirt tighter.*
Yuvraj Singh Rathore.ML.
(voice low and wild):
“This... is mine now.”
Then he bent down—his lips brushing the soft skin just above her heart, leaving a slow, open mouth kiss and a mark that burned through fabric and skin.
Not rushed.
Not forced.
Claimed.
And when he pulled back, she wasn’t the same girl anymore.
Her heart was racing. Her body is trembling. Her mind is gone.
And that mark?
She’d feel it for days.
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