Chapter 18: The Theatre

SAESHA POV

It felt… strange.

Not wrong, not bad—just strange.

To walk beside him like this, not sneaking into his office at midnight, not pressed against his desk with my lips swollen and thighs aching. Just… walking into a mall. Like we were ordinary. Like he was mine in public and I was his.

He didn’t hold my hand. Of course he didn’t. Veeraj Kapoor wasn’t a man who held hands. But his palm pressed against the small of my back as we entered the theatre, guiding me through the crowd, protective and possessive all at once. Anyone who saw us probably thought I was his girlfriend. They had no idea.

We got our tickets without a word. He didn’t even ask what movie I wanted to watch, just picked the one he knew had the best private seating. The kind of luxury box that let him keep me close, unseen, untouched by anyone else.

But the thing about being with a man like Veeraj? It didn’t matter how private the space. His presence made every room feel smaller.

“Popcorn?” I asked lightly, trying to ease the tight coil of tension winding between us since last night.

His eyes slid down to me, dark and unreadable. “You’ll eat when I feed you.”

My cheeks heated instantly. I looked away, clutching my small purse like it could hide the way my thighs pressed together.

We entered the theatre. The screen hadn’t lit yet, just trailers flashing against the darkness. I slipped into the plush seat beside him, heart thudding at how normal it felt, like a date I’d only seen in movies.

And then it happened.

Halfway through the previews, I felt it. That prickling awareness that someone was staring.

I shifted slightly, glancing down the row. A guy. Early thirties maybe. Alone. His eyes weren’t on the screen. They were on me.

My skin crawled.

I turned back quickly, hoping Veeraj hadn’t noticed.

But of course he had.

The second his jaw tightened, I knew. His gaze cut across me like a blade and landed on the man. Sharp. Cold. Deadly.

“Who the fuck is that?” he muttered, his voice low enough for only me to hear.

“I—I don’t know. He’s just—”

“Just staring at what’s mine.”

I swallowed, heat flooding my face. “It’s fine, Veeraj. Ignore—”

He laughed, dark and humorless. “Ignore? You think I’m the kind of man who ignores another bastard undressing you with his eyes?”

My stomach twisted. His hand landed on my thigh under the cover of the seat, squeezing hard enough to make me gasp.

“You wore this little skirt knowing it would drive me insane,” he hissed, his lips brushing my ear. “But if you think I’ll let another man enjoy what’s mine, you’re fucking wrong.”

The movie started, but I couldn’t hear it. Couldn’t see it. All I felt was Veeraj’s hand inching higher, his grip tightening like punishment.

“Open your legs,” he ordered.

My eyes widened. “Veeraj—”

“Now.”

The authority in his tone left no room for refusal. My thighs parted slowly, trembling, the darkness of the theatre swallowing my shame.

His fingers slid beneath the hem of my skirt, finding me bare. He cursed under his breath. “Of course you didn’t wear panties. You love being my little slut in public, don’t you?”

I bit my lip hard, trying not to moan as his fingers teased me, circling, pressing, not giving me what I needed.

“You’re dripping already,” he whispered. “Is it from me… or from knowing he’s watching?”

“From you,” I gasped.

“Say it louder.”

“From you, Veeraj.”

He smirked, cruel and satisfied, before plunging two fingers inside me. My body jolted, my nails digging into the armrest. The screen lit our faces in flashes of color, but no one around us knew the filth happening in our seats.

“You’re going to take it,” he growled. “You’re going to sit here and let me fuck you with my fingers while that bastard watches you squirm. And when you come, you’re going to keep your pretty little voice down because you belong to me, not him. Understand?”

I nodded desperately, my breath coming in shallow bursts. His pace was relentless, his thumb punishing my clit, his fingers curling deep inside me. I tried to stay quiet, but a soft whimper slipped out, drowned by the movie’s soundtrack.

“That’s it,” he murmured. “Take it, baby. Take it while I ruin you right under his nose.”

The coil in my stomach snapped. My orgasm ripped through me, violent and hot, my body clenching around his fingers. I bit my lip so hard I tasted blood, my whole body trembling in the seat.

Veeraj didn’t stop. He leaned close, his voice venomous. “Look at him.”

My eyes shot open, hazy with tears and lust. “W-What?”

“Look. At. Him.”

Shaking, I turned my head. The man was still staring. Still watching.

And Veeraj smiled.

“Good,” he whispered darkly. “Now he knows you only come for me.”

He pulled his fingers free, glistening in the dim light. Without hesitation, he shoved them between my lips.

“Suck.”

I obeyed, licking myself clean from his hand, shame and arousal mixing until I didn’t know where one ended and the other began.

When he pulled his fingers away, he kissed me hard, devouring, possessive. As if to mark me even here, in public, in front of strangers.

By the time the credits rolled, I could barely breathe. My thighs ached, my lips were swollen, and Veeraj’s hand never left my waist as he led me out of the theatre.

But as we stepped into the night, I knew one thing for certain.

No matter who looked at me, no matter how dangerous the game—Veeraj Kapoor would always make sure the world knew I was his.

END OF CHAPTER 18