Chapter 11
RADHA AND KRISHNA
ETHAN
Our eyes widened, my heart pounding against my chest as I just had one of the best orgasms of my life.
Kiara was breathing heavily, and I cursed, looking at her swollen nipples peeking from the scrambled shirt.
I looked at her face and I felt myself twitch again.
Fuck. She was beautiful. Her hair tousled, lips swollen, cheeks flushed and her heavy-lidded brown eyes begging me for more. Fuckfuckfuck.
I shook my head and looked down at my sweatpants. I sat back on my heels, my eyes flickering between her spread legs. I swallowed the lump in my throat and ignored the urge to remove the briefs, slide her legs around my waist, and thrust myself inside her, pinning her hands above her head.
Running my hand through my hair, I looked down at my sweatpants, getting a semi just by looking at her like this. “I can’t open the door like this, Kiara.”
She smirked at me, her nimble fingers—the one that was wrapped around me squeezing me slowly a few moments ago—buttoning the shirt. Her hooded eyes trailed over my bare chest, torso, and lower.
“Of course not,” she said innocently, batting her lashes at me. “Go wear your T-shirt.”
I deadpanned, “I am serious, Kiara.”
Then my eyes lowered to her chest once again and I couldn’t help myself. I pinned her hands away and leaned closer, kissing her perfect pouting breasts as she let out a half squeal, half moan. I moved up, capturing her moan on my lips. Her fingers tightened over my hands, entwining them together.
I pulled away, smiling at her. “Sorry, I had to kiss you.”
She smiled back, her dimple poking her cheek, and the moment was broken when her mother knocked again. With much effort, I pulled away, already missing the warmth of her soft body wrapped around mine.
“Why don’t you go change? I’ll open the door.”
I nodded, blood warming up my neck as I picked up the T-shirt from the floor and pulled it over my chest. I could feel her hungry eyes on me and clenched my jaw at the little pinch on my back. She had scratched my back when she came.
Shaking my head and trying to avoid her sharp gaze, I went to my room taking fresh sweatpants with me to the bathroom.
My hair was a mess and I ran a hand through it when I noticed the small hickey on my collarbone and turned to see a small pair of four scratches on my back.
I sighed and suppressed my smile as I quickly cleaned myself.
I hope Mrs. Sharma didn’t hear either of us come or else it will be an awkward topic to tackle during a family function.
Apparently, her mom knocked on the door because her daughter was missing in her room and wouldn’t pick up her phone. Even I had two miscalls from her, and I didn’t feel guilty of not picking them up as our cell phones were long forgotten on my desk when we had stumbled in my room last night.
She invited both of us for breakfast and we were still hungry, so we went to her home, my stomach grumbling at the smell of delicious poha. But my hunger lasted for only a few seconds, because Mr. Vijay Sharma was also sitting at the table reading a book while his white coat hung behind his chair.
My heartbeat picked up as she greeted her father with a small kiss on his cheek and mumbled good morning in her native language. He nodded at his daughter and gave us the briefest small smile when I added sir after my greeting.
I was stiff and managed a one-word answer when her mother chirped about her daughter and giggled heartily when she pointed to our picture frame on one of the walls.
We both grinned remembering that day. We were about eight years old in that picture and went to a Halloween costume party.
The theme of the party was Gods and Goddesses.
She was dressed as gorgeous Radha and I was dressed as notorious young Krishna.
She almost got into a fight with a kid who kept calling me sick because my body was painted in blue and Lord Krishna didn’t have blue-green eyes.
I could still remember holding her dandiya sticks when she marched up to him and gave him a scolding.
She was grinning at the camera even though her red lipstick was smudged over her cheeks and bits of yogurt were scattered over her lips.
I was smiling shyly, holding her hand and a handkerchief ready in my other hand to wipe yogurt from her mouth.
We won the competition. Especially after doing the difficult Garba dance her mom had taught both of us for one straight month.
We still laughed looking at the footage of our practice session.
I had noticed the smudge of blue paint on her hand and my chest when she had squealed at my jewelry on my neck and told me I looked like the cutest little Krishna she had ever seen.
I had blushed like a tomato and wished she wouldn’t be able to notice through the paint.
And I had kissed her cheek, telling her she looked beautiful in her Indian choli dress.
“I still remember her choli had smudged blue in all different places when she got back home,” her mother said, her brown eyes warm as she looked at both of us. “You both were the cutest pair.”
I wondered if Mrs. Damini Sharma was fighting back her tears as her daughter squeezed her hand and Mr. Vijay gazed at his wife with adoration.
“They still are,” Kiara’s father said, looking between his daughter and me. “The only difference is that she has stopped tying Rakhi to Ethan during Rakshabandhan.”
She groaned and hid her flushed face while I looked everywhere but her parents. Especially her mother, who had a knowing smile on her face eerily similar to my mothers’.
“Dad,” Kiara said, “we talked about this. Ethan is my friend, my best friend. And I was a child when I tied Rakhi to his wrist. We talked about this.”
I didn’t know what they talked about, but looking at her warning stare, I knew I should shut my mouth and eat poha.
So, I did while ignoring Mr. Vijay’s gaze on me.
Kiara was right. I could never see her as my sister.
Never. Ever. Yes, we celebrated Rakshabandhan together as brother and sister, but we were barely five back then.
We stopped once we shared a chaste kiss on the lips when we were eight.
That’s why I think Kiara needed to repeat her words.
Her dad was smart enough to look down at the book he was reading, hiding his small smile when his daughter gave him the warning look.
When her mom wasn’t looking, I slid my hand on Kiara’s knee and slowly made small circles on it with my thumb.
She calmed down and tucked the strand of her hair behind her ear and squeezed my hand.
Someone rang the doorbell and I sighed, running a hand through my hair when we all heard his voice.
“KEM CHO BADHA?!” Volt strolled inside, kissing Mrs. Sharma on her cheek and Kiara on her head, and I pushed his face away when he tried to kiss my cheek.
Her mom smiled at him when he went to the kitchen and took his plate from the cabinet. Kiara eyed him suspiciously and I looked at his backward cap, the printed shirt with small oranges and the pants.
“Where are you going?” I asked when he sat down beside Mr. Sharma, who nodded at him with a smile as if this was a daily occurrence.
Volt gave both of us a lopsided grin. “We are going to Ryan’s farmhouse.”
I was about to shake my head when Kiara asked, “Why? Katherine didn’t call—wait, she might have.” Red flush peppered her cheeks and she stood up, taking her empty plate to the kitchen as she mumbled, “I must have forgotten to call her back.”
Of course she had. We spent the whole night and morning together.
Her mom went after her and I swallowed the food in my mouth, gulping the cold water from the glass.
* * *
“I don’t want to see you around Carl.”
Kiara groaned, giving me a dramatic eye roll as she changed the song on the radio when I shifted the car gear, speeding up. Volt had decided to stay for breakfast and left for Ryan’s farmhouse in his own car because I warned him to. I wanted to be alone with Kiara.
“His name is Carter.”
I know what his name is, Kiara. I don’t like him. Especially when he is around you.
My knuckles turned white when my grip on the wheel tightened. Taking a sharp breath, I said, “I don’t give a fuck about his name, Kiara. I just don’t like him around you.”
“Of course you don’t,” she scoffed, resting back on the seat. “You hate every guy who talks to me.”
Fuck. Her tanned legs were so smooth and soft. I could remember the way her thighs tensed and trembled when she came. Her heels digging in my lower back when I dry humped her on the couch. I loved the way they perfectly wrapped around my torso.
Eiffel, stay in the pants and don’t you dare wave at her.
But what she said was the truth. I was more protective of her than her own brother, Karan. Partly because he entrusted Kiara with me because we both knew how it felt to have a little sister.
He’d end me if he found out that his little sister was writhing with orgasms under me last night.
“Well, I don’t mind Rio,” I replied.
“That’s because he is your best friend and you have a doubt that he is either bisexual or gay.”
“Okay. There’s Volt.”
“He calls me imōto. His little sister,” she said. “Not to mention, he is whipped by Becky Whitestone.”
I clenched my jaw. She was right. I did get protective of her, and after what Liam did, I was not leaving her side.
“Hey,” she squeezed my hand, her warm brown eyes blinking at me. “If you don’t want me to hang out with Carter, I won’t.”
“I am not worried about you, Kiara,” I said playfully, smiling at her. “I am worried about the poor lad. I know how much you love flirting with Ryan’s friends, so don’t stop that on my account.”
I was teasing because I knew she only did that to rile up Ryan, Katherine’s boyfriend and the guy I could trust because he thought of Kiara as his own sister.
She let out a small laugh and replied, “It’s not my fault. Besides, they should know I have my eyes set on only one thing.” She looked at me from the corner of her eye, smiling at me.
I nodded. “My penis.”
Kiara shook her head, grinning at me, and looked away, her hands fumbling with the hem of her dress. It was a gorgeous cherry red summer dress my mothers had bought for her birthday last year. Seeing her wearing that made my heart stumble and Eiffel twitch.
I didn’t know what it was, but seeing her in a dress did something to me.
The V-neck of her dress showed her golden skin and the way it snugged around her waist and flowed freely down her thighs.
I swallowed the lump in my throat when I saw the hickeys on her neck when she moved her hair over her shoulder.
I resisted the urge to stop the car and give her a couple of more hickeys and taste her lips.
“Did I tell you that you look gorgeous today?” I asked, following her to the farmhouse. The bushes and the once clean pathway were littered with red cups from last night’s party.
Kiara looked over her shoulder. “You didn’t.”
I swear I could hear my moms scolding me for not complimenting her. Sorry, ma.
I stepped closer to her and leaned down. The scent of warm black vanilla and coconuts wafted in my nose, reminding me how my sheets smelled like today. I smiled and peppered butterfly kisses over her neck and jaw, kissing her nose and even pecking her dimple.
“Kiara, you look gorgeous today,” I whispered in her ear, biting the earlobe as she took a sharp breath when I dragged it gently, licking the soft pink skin. “Especially when I look up from your spread thighs.”
She shook her head when I pulled away, holding her hand in mine. Her hands and fingers were so soft. “You’re such a tease. Don’t say stuff like that. It makes me—”
I leaned down and kissed her lips. “Wet?”
“Ethan!”
“Kiara!”
Our moment was broken when the front door opened. There was a red G-string and a hot pink bra dangling on the golden doorknob, and they fell in front of us when the door opened.
Carter grinned at Kiara and took much more time than I would like to check her out. I was glad that his short burst of happiness seemed to deflate when his coal-black eyes landed on our entwined hands.
“And Ethan.” I squeezed her hand and nodded at him. “If you’ll excuse us.”
Without waiting for his reply, I took Kiara with me, pushing him away with my shoulder and glaring at him when he smirked back, crossing his arms. Asshole.
We both stared at the chaos that was once called a living room.
There was a boxer brief and a pizza slice dangling from the ceiling fan.
Someone had tried to push the couch on the backyard but stopped it halfway and the feathers from a pillow littered over the television and coffee table.
Not to mention the whole floor was littered with red cups, spilled alcohol, water, vomit, and things I would rather not talk about.
Now I knew exactly why Ryan called Volt to get us here.
* * *
I scrunched my face and picked the last underwear from the bush with a wooden stick and dropped it in the trash bag. We had already deflated the mannequin balloon and thrown it in the trash along with some shoes, socks, and other trash. Frat parties were wild.
“So, did you kiss her?”
I turned around to see Rio as he narrowed his green eyes at me after picking up the last cup from the backyard.
“Kiss who?” I tried to play it cool.
“I am not an idiot, Ethan. Something’s going on between you and Kee. Spill the tea, dude,” he asked again, waggling his eyebrows. “Did you kiss her? With tongue?”
I cleared my throat and tried not to blush remembering the kiss we had shared in the room when she was standing so close to me. “Well, uh, yeah, I did. We kissed.” I smiled at the memory.
We did more than a kiss. I watched her masturbate and then felt her orgasm on my fingers and snuggled my face on her breasts. It was like a dream.
Rio grinned and he looked over his shoulder. I raised my brows when Volt came out from the bush and angrily slapped the twenty-dollar bill on Rio’s hand.
He pocketed it in his shorts. “I told you. I always win.”
“What the fuck?” I looked between the two of them. “You put a bet on us?”
They both shrugged and Volt said, “I believed in you, Ethan. I thought you could hold it in your pants for another week or so. I would’ve won fifty bucks!”
I shook my head. “Promise me this will be the last time you bet on us. It’s not polite.”
They rolled their eyes as they picked up their trash bags. “Yes, daddy. We won’t.”