In the blazing heat of the Rajasthani afternoon, Preety, dressed in a long scarf and local attire to blend in, navigated the narrow backroads of the ancient fort where Tina was being kept. Her heartbeat was louder than her footsteps as she pressed her back against the sandstone wall, glancing around the corner.
Two guards stood lazily near the entrance to a locked chamber. They weren't expecting trouble, after all, who would dare to defy Prem Chaudhary?
But they didn't know Preety.
She had memorized her father's encrypted messages, hacked into his secure files, and traced the location here, an old palace-turned-prison in the heart of the desert. She waited for the right moment, then tossed a stone far across the courtyard.
The noise drew the guards' attention, just enough time.
Preety sprinted silently, picked the lock with trembling fingers, and pushed the creaky door open.
Inside, Tina sat on a dusty mattress, pale, tired, but very much alive. Her eyes widened the moment she saw Preety.
"Preety?" she gasped.
Before she could say anything else, Preety ran to her and wrapped her in a trembling embrace. "We don't have time. We're getting out of here."
Tina's legs were weak, but her spirit sparked the moment she held Preety's hand. "I knew you'd come…"
They moved like shadows through the maze of old corridors, sneaking past guards and slipping into the back of a delivery truck Preety had pre-arranged to bribe.
As the truck sped away from the fort and into the open desert, Tina finally looked at Preety, her voice soft, "You risked everything for me."
Preety looked back, eyes glassy, but a smirk on her lips. "You're not just anyone. You're mine."
Tina leaned her head on Preety's shoulder as the sun dipped below the horizon.
Little did they know... Prem Chaudhary would soon realize Tina had escaped, and he would not let her go so easily.
--------
As Romy stepped out of the bathroom, fresh steam still clinging to his skin and hair damp, the early morning light spilled across his toned frame. A simple towel hung low around his waist, and water trailed down the curves of his back. Monty, who had just woken up and was sitting at the edge of the bed, turned his head, and instantly froze.
His breath hitched.
There was something maddeningly magnetic about Romy in that moment, confident, raw, real. Not the man who always barked orders or threw sharp words, but the one who was quietly fighting storms beneath his calm gaze.
Monty's throat went dry. His heart beat faster than it should've.
What the hell is wrong with me? he thought.
Romy gave a slight nod and walked over to his suitcase without much of a glance. But Monty could still feel the electricity in the air. He stood up abruptly and mumbled, "I need a shower."
Without waiting for a reply, he disappeared into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him a little harder than necessary.
Inside, Monty leaned back against the cold tile, exhaling sharply. His mind betrayed him, running wild with the memory of Romy's body, the curve of his muscles, the scent of his skin that still lingered in the room. Every detail replayed itself, vivid and uninvited.
His body reacted involuntarily, and Monty stared down in disbelief, as though cursing his own response. "Damn it," he muttered under his breath.
He splashed cold water on his face, hoping to clear both his thoughts and his... condition.
"This is just stress," he whispered, trying to convince himself. "Too much tension, too much drama. That's all this is. Right?"
Thinking about Romy, Monty's dick stood up straight.
While Monty was calming his own dick, he said, "How can you get hard for guy?"
But he was already fully erect. As he stayed in the bathroom for a long time,
Romy called from outside, "How long are you going to take? Come out!"
But Monty's dick was still hard, and he was hesitant to come out.