The message arrived at dawn.
Priya had barely slept. The penthouse hours clung to her skin like perfume, Reyansh's scent everywhere, his touch branded into the hollows of her body. She lay tangled in sheets that smelled of childhood and loss, the ruby choker still warm against her throat, and watched the ceiling fan trace its endless circles. Every time she closed her eyes she saw his face above her, the savage triumph softening into something she could not name. Every time she shifted her thighs she felt the ghost of his fingers and the slick, shameful echo of her own surrender.
Support helps me create the kind of stories that breathe fire, raw, emotional, and unafraid of desire. My goal is to write with honesty, explore the depth of power and surrender, and build a space where readers who crave intensity feel seen. Every bit of support lets me go deeper into the world I’m crafting… and stay committed to telling the truth of these characters.
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