The heavy teak doors of the Sheesh Mahal bridal chamber had long since been locked, sealing the room in a cocoon of sandalwood scented silence and the lingering musk of hours of relentless copulation. The night outside had stretched into its deepest, most silent hours. Inside the chamber, the air was thick and warm, heavy with the perfume of sweat, sex, and the faint, sweet fragrance of the jasmine flowers that had been woven into Priya’s hair, now crushed and scattered across the silk pillows.

Priya finally lay asleep, utterly and completely exhausted, her body surrendered to a slumber so deep it was almost a coma. She was completely naked, her skin mapped with the evidence of her ravishment. A faint sheen of sweat still clung to the curve of her spine, and the heavy gold mangalsutra was nestled deep between her massive, pillowy breasts. Her dark chocolate brown nipples were still swollen and puffy, the areolas pebbled, bearing the fresh, livid marks of Ranjeet’s teeth, small, possessive crescents bitten into her flesh during his final, brutal climax inside her cunt just an hour ago.