Riya’s mouth was numb, her throat was burning, and her face was covered in the combined fluids of her Sasur and Saas. She was a broken doll, gasping for air on the massive mahogany bed.
"The night is reaching its peak, Bahu," Pratap Singh growled, his dark, throbbing Lund glistening in the candlelight. "But a Zamindar never leaves his task unfinished."






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