Chapter 62 The timing was against us… #2
She pushed open wet eyes, not even halfway coming yet but so ready to explode when his shadow darkened her being.
Amaal did not have the strength to meet his gaze then as he pushed her legs apart and nudged his way in.
It was so raw, and so real, and so instinctive as their bodies just snapped together like magnets notching into each other.
“Oooohggg…” she writhed her head, falling down the rabbit hole already.
“Quiet, Amaal.”
She pushed her teeth into her lips.
He pulled her lip out of her bite, sinking his teeth in instead. She thrust up, and felt pain like never before. “Oh shit.”
“Slow down.” He scolded, tamping her hips. “It’s been long, your body won’t adjust immediately.”
“Neither will yours!” She snapped back, grateful for his maturity in this moment.
“I am not the one being torn apart,” he nuzzled his nose into her throat, scraping his teeth down her neck. She relaxed. “I won’t last long, but we both know that’s just a practical problem.”
“Is it?” She quipped, fisting her fingers in his hair.
She could feel him begin to throb already.
He was not as rock solid as she had thought he’d be.
But they had both accepted the practicalities of their reality.
It was so good to joke about it. His mouth took her breast and his teeth clamped. Hard. She clenched.
“Amaal…” he groaned. “Wait, wait…”
She took advantage of the moment and broke free from his grip. Amaal thrust up, and he thrust down, out of his own control. She grabbed his hips and he grabbed her breast, his eyes snagging hers — half lustful, half enraged.
“How does it feel to surrender, Samar?” She smirked, feeling a whole different kind of pleasure open up inside her.
He came up on his knees and she felt the first release of his control inside her.
His palm came down on the place they were joined and she screamed, flicking back into a spiral where she did not care about a thing.
Her mind blanked out and noises went silent.
All except his grunts. And then she felt it all burst into one big ball of light.
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A flutter of lips trailed over her shoulder.
Amaal smiled, opening her eyes to the sun setting in the sky outside the window.
The air had cooled, fluttering the curtains and blowing goosebumps over her skin.
Birds were singing long notes, and she was in a strange town, in a strange house, in familiar arms.
“How does it feel?” His low voice wove into her skin. “Hmm?” His mouth pressed into the middle of her back, peeling the light-as-air sheet away from her.
“Lighter than it’s ever been…” she sighed, stretching her torso just as he turned her and placed his lips under her breast. She caressed the top of his hair, enjoying the quietness of this moment of dusk, being so fully consummated by him, being completely open, abandoned to him, just as he had finally become to her.
“I have never felt like this.” He touched her navel with his mouth. “Everything has been a sprint but now finally I have arrived.” He caressed the skin around it with his knuckles. And his face lifted, dark eyes smiling at her. “Am I Samar or what? Talking like this?”
She chuckled, her stomach vibrating under his chin. He rubbed it over her, the stubble creating friction and burns all the same. She had them growing between her thighs, too. But who was complaining?
“Tell me that we will be like this even when we begin another sprint.” She caressed his cheek.
He nodded, kissing her palm. “We will begin another sprint, and be just like this,” he told her.
“But not any time soon. I have not lived away from you to not even live with you for at least a few months…”
“One month.” She reminded him, scratching the tiny crevice in his cheekbone that creased when he smiled a certain way. “Then you have to start campaigning for Lok Sabha Election.”
“NDP just got registered today,” he groaned. “Don’t talk about work already.”
“Tell me about that!” She began to sit up but he tamped her stomach down — “No.”
“What do you mean no?”
“By No I mean NO.” He traced his fingernails over her side. “I am not spending my first day with my wife talking about NDP or KDP or HDP or anything remotely related to work.”
“Then what do you want to talk about?”
“About the fact that you could be pregnant already?” He nuzzled her stomach.
She rolled her eyes. “Be realistic, you are a doctor.”
“And hence I know that one time is enough.” His head popped up. “We’ve counted three already.”
“The third doesn’t count.”
“The hell it doesn’t!”
“How exactly…”
“Preejacu… You know what? I’m going to give you a biology class.” He ran his palm up and over her breast, climbing over her and smiling at the sight of her forehead.
“What?” She frowned.
His smile widened. “It’s all smudged.” He palmed her hair. She rubbed at it, and came up with the red of the sindoor. Amaal turned, and the pillow under her was red too after that intense third time. Her entire body heated up.
“Let me wash my face…”
He pulled her back and set her on the pillows — “Stay.” He kissed her smudged forehead. “Looks nice.”
Instead, he got to his feet, stretching his arms and popping his joints. Amaal caught sight of his back and got to her knees on the bed.
“What happened?” His head turned over his shoulder.
She reached up and rubbed at the stains of her red palm prints, streaks cascading across his back, his neck, over his side. She turned him around and found more, trailing over his pecs and down to his forearm. Red prints over melted skin.
“Looks nice.” He traced an imprint over the grafts on his stomach. Amaal looked up, but his eyes were on the end of their bed, creased in more red prints from her feet.
“These sheets are never going to be white again.” She clicked her tongue. “Unless you have some strong stain remover.”
“Good.” He tugged her waist. “I don’t want these to be washed.”
The sun was emanating the last of its golden rays, painting his eyes in its glow.
Amaal held his face between her hands, tracing the fine lines under his eyes with her thumbs.
Her smooth, naked skin was tracing the welted leather of his.
Her nose was breathing in the scent over his.
And she knew that if she had told her 23-year-old self this, that young, naive, ambitious but brash Amaal would have jumped in glee and then dismissed it as nothing but a good dream.
“What happened?” He squeezed her closer with both arms.
She swallowed, seeing the sun go down in the sky behind him but its rays still bursting through their window. “The timing was against us,” Amaal remembered. “But what a time that was.”
He cupped her chin and brought her face back to him. She stared into his eyes. And he smiled. “What a time it will be.”