The morning after Navratri dawned with a strange quietness over the haveli. Servants cleared the decorations while whispers spread about the Sarpanch’s unusual fury the previous night. Rudra had barely slept. He kept replaying the way Meera looked in that red lehenga — innocent face flushed, full breasts straining against the tight choli, her soft moans as he kissed her behind the pillar. She had become his obsession, his religion, his only weakness.

Meera worked in the kitchen, chopping vegetables with bandaged hands. Every movement reminded her of last night — Rudra’s thick cock pounding into her from behind, his hand slapping her ass, his deep growls claiming her as his personal whore and his little baby at the same time. Her thighs clenched involuntarily. She was sore, but the ache felt addictive.

Rudra appeared at the kitchen entrance like a storm. His eyes immediately found her. Without caring who was watching, he walked straight in.

“Meera,” he called, voice commanding yet soft for her. “Come with me. Badi Maa wants fresh mangoes from the orchard for the guests. You will help me choose.”

It was a lie, and everyone knew it, but no one dared question the Sarpanch.

As soon as they were out of sight near the private mango grove behind the haveli, Rudra pulled her behind a thick tree trunk and pressed her against it. His large body caged her completely.

“You have no idea what you do to me,” he breathed, voice hoarse with need. He cupped her face tenderly, thumbs stroking her cheeks. “Last night, when that boy tried to touch you… I wanted to destroy everything. You are my little baby. My pure, innocent girl. And yet you make me so fucking hard I can’t think straight.”

He kissed her slowly at first — deep, romantic, full of love. His tongue worshipped her mouth like she was the sweetest thing he had ever tasted. Then the kiss turned filthy. He sucked on her lower lip, bit it, then devoured her again while his hands roamed.

One hand slipped inside her choli, squeezing her heavy breast possessively. “These tits… fuck, Meera. They are getting fuller. That medicine is working. Soon I’ll drink milk straight from them while buried deep inside you.”

Meera whimpered, melting against him. “Rudra… someone might come…”

“Let them,” he growled, pinching her nipple hard. “Let the whole world know who owns this body.”

He dropped to his knees right there in the orchard, pushed her lehenga up, and buried his face between her thighs. He ate her pussy with slow, loving madness — long licks from her entrance to her clit, sucking the swollen bud gently then hard, tongue fucking her tight hole while two thick fingers curled inside her.

Meera clutched his hair, moaning softly. “Ahh… Rudra… oh god… your tongue feels so good…”

He made her come twice — once on his tongue, once with his fingers rubbing her G-spot while sucking her clit. Her legs shook violently as she tried to stay quiet.

Afterward, he stood up, wiped his glistening mouth, and kissed her so she could taste herself. “You are my addiction, jaan. My forever.”

---

That night, the haveli was quiet again. At exactly twelve-thirty, Meera slipped into Rudra’s chamber wearing only a thin white nightie.

Rudra was waiting like a caged lion. The moment she entered, he locked the door and lifted her in his arms, carrying her to the massive bed as if she were his bride.

Tonight was different. He wanted to make it iconic — something they would both remember forever.

He laid her down gently and stripped her slowly, worshipping every inch. “Look at you,” he whispered reverently. “My beautiful, innocent Meera. So pure yet so fucking mine.”

He spent nearly thirty minutes on her breasts alone. He licked, sucked, bit, and slapped them lightly, leaving dark hickeys all over the soft, heavy flesh. He squeezed them together and buried his face between them, motorboating and groaning like a man in heaven.

“These will feed me one day,” he said filthily, sucking hard on her nipples until they were swollen and red. “I’ll drink your milk while I fuck you pregnant with my child.”

Meera was a moaning, dripping mess. “Rudra… please… I need you…”

He spread her legs wide, hooked them over his shoulders, and entered her in one deep thrust. They both moaned loudly. He fucked her slow and deep at first — grinding, rotating his hips, making sure she felt every thick inch.

“Look into my eyes while I make love to you,” he commanded softly.

Their gazes locked. The romance was intense. Rudra kissed her constantly — forehead, nose, lips, neck — while his cock stroked in and out with perfect rhythm.

“I love you, Meera,” he whispered against her lips. “Not just your body. Your innocence. Your heart. Your everything. I will fight God himself if he tries to take you from me.”

Tears of overwhelming emotion and pleasure slipped from Meera’s eyes. “I love you too… so much it scares me.”

Those words ignited him.

Rudra’s pace turned wild. He pounded into her hard and fast, the bed banging against the wall. Skin slapped loudly. He rubbed her clit furiously while sucking her breasts.

“Cum for me, my little baby. Cum on your Sarpanch’s cock.”

Meera shattered with a silent scream, her walls milking him tightly. Rudra followed with a deep, guttural groan, burying himself to the hilt and filling her with thick, endless ropes of cum.

Even after coming, he stayed inside her, collapsing on top while keeping most of his weight off. He kissed her tears away, stroked her hair, and whispered sweet filthy promises.

“You are going to be the mother of my children. I will make you my wife in secret first, then in front of the whole world when the time is right.”

He cleaned her gently with warm water, dressed her in his shirt, and fed her milk from a glass, holding it to her lips like she was his precious little girl. Then he pulled her onto his chest, wrapping her in his strong arms.

“Sleep here tonight,” he said. “I need to hold you.”

Meera fell asleep feeling completely safe, loved, and utterly owned.

---

Unknown to them, Riya had bribed a servant and was now standing outside Rudra’s chamber door, listening to the faint sounds. Her face was twisted with pure hatred and obsession.

She took out her phone

and began typing a message to Maasa.

The war for Rudra had officially begun.