Chapter 37
IRA
Tomorrow, Prashant and I would leave for our duty in Barmer.
I was practically buzzing with excitement because I'd have Prashant all to myself.
We would have our own spouse quarter, our own furniture, our own kitchen, our own room.
Every morning would start with him, and every night would end with him.
The thought alone made my cheeks warm and my stomach flutter with butterflies.
Prashant had been taking care of my every little need-my meals, my clothes. He'd even washed my laundry without me asking. Just this morning, he'd made me my favourite cheese sandwich and presented it like it was a gourmet delicacy.
His mother wasn't too happy about it. She thought he was giving me the "princess treatment" and spoiling me beyond repair. His two sisters were away in Delhi for further studies, so it was just the three of us at home these days, well, for the moment, at least.
I told him my head had healed, but Prashant refused to believe me. He didn't let me lift a finger.
"Dinner is ready," Prashant announced as he entered the room carrying a big tray. First, he placed the laptop table on the bed, then set the tray on top of it with a careful, almost ceremonial motion.
The food smelled divine, steaming bowls of dal, fluffy rice, soft paneer in rich gravy, and fresh chapattis still puffed with heat. I inhaled deeply, closing my eyes for a second to savour it. God, how could he be this good at everything?
"Has Maa eaten?" I asked, reaching for a chapatti.
"She went to her sister's for a small function," he said, smiling that smile I loved most, the one that brought out two perfect dimples on either side of his cheeks. "She'll be back in the morning. So..." his voice softened, "we're alone in the house."
"We're alone..." I echoed, my lips curling into a knowing smile as I tore the chapatti into a small piece, dipped it into the dal, and placed it in my mouth.
Prashant didn't take his eyes off me the entire time. His hunger wasn't for food that much was obvious.
I chewed slowly, pretending not to notice how intently he was watching me. "What?" I asked, raising an eyebrow after swallowing.
"Nothing," he said, though the mischievous glint in his eyes betrayed him. "Just wondering if the paneer tastes better than my last attempt at aloo parathas."
I laughed instantly, the memory flashing bright and clear as his half-cooked dough in the middle, burnt edges outside, and him blaming the rolling pin for the disaster. "Oh God, don't remind me. I can still feel that dough sticking to my teeth."
"That was innovation," he said, pretending to be offended. "You clearly don't understand experimental cuisine."
"Experimental?" I giggled, shaking my head. "That was criminal."
He laughed, the sound warm and deep, his dimples appearing again. "You're going to regret saying that because I was planning to make breakfast tomorrow."
I gasped dramatically. "You dare bring parathas into my life again?"
"Not parathas," he said, leaning closer, lowering his voice. "I'm thinking hot, fluffy poha. I promise...not a single raw grain... unless I decide it needs a little extra crunch."
I couldn't stop laughing, my stomach aching. He reached out to wipe a small smear of dal from the corner of my mouth, his thumb lingering for a second too long. My heartbeat stumbled, and suddenly, the air between us felt heavier.
"See?" he said softly. "This is why I cook. Just to hear you laugh like that."
I looked at him as his messy hair fell over his forehead, wearing a faded t-shirt, smiling at me like I was the only thing in the world that mattered.
Then his expression shifted. His gaze locked on mine, his tone dropping low. "You know what I'm going to do with you all night, don't you?" he whispered against my ear, sending shivers racing down my spine.
I swallowed hard, my voice sounding far steadier than I felt. "Aren't you going to eat?"
"Will you feed me?" His grin returned, boyish yet wicked.
"You have two perfectly working hands," I shot back, but before I could move, he caught my wrist gently, guiding my hand toward his mouth. He let me feed him and then, without warning, he began licking each of my fingers slowly, deliberately. My breath caught, heat rushing through me.
"Exactly," he murmured against my skin. "I have two hands." His voice was thick with something that made my pulse hammer. "Eat first... because you're not going to make it through the night if you don't have enough calories."
My throat tightened. "And what about you?" I asked, my voice hoarse.
"I'm going to eat you," he said simply, the words stealing my breath.
"I'm done," I whispered, setting the tray aside and folding the laptop table.
When I stood, my legs felt unsteady, as though they belonged to someone else. I managed to walk to the wash basin, rinse my hands, and dry them, but I could feel his eyes burning with desire.
When I turned, he was still sitting on the bed, one arm resting lazily on his knee, watching me with a look so intense, my knees nearly gave out again.
He unbuttoned his shirt slowly, his gaze locked on something other than me.
My eyes were drawn to the way his golden skin stretched taut over his hard muscles as he pulled the fabric from his shoulders. We hadn't been together in more than two weeks, and the ache for him was a physical thing-a deep, burning need that I knew only he could soothe.
Before I could take another step toward the bed, Prashant's arm shot out, his hand grasping my waist. He pulled me against his stone-hard chest, the warmth of his skin radiating through my fingertips as I pressed my palms against him. I felt his muscles flex and tense under my touch.
He wrapped his arms around me completely before burying his face in my breasts. With a swift, practiced movement, he tore my kurta, then my bra. My lower garments and then my panties soon followed, leaving me standing naked in his arms.
"I love how confident you are in your own skin," he murmured, his hands cupping my breasts. "And I love how hard your nipples get with my single touch."
He pinched them lightly between his fingers, a gasp escaping my lips. A soft whimper rose in my throat as he took one of them into his mouth, the suction sending a jolt of pleasure through my entire body.
"Oh God," I cried, squeezing my thighs together as he kissed my breasts tenderly. His mouth felt like heaven.
"They deserve to be worshipped and devoured at the same time," he said, his voice a low growl.
He laid me gently on the bed before coming to lie on top of me. I heard the sound of his zipper before he shed his pants and boxers.
"Oh, wow," I breathed, my voice trembling under his weight and warmth.
His smile deepened, a slow, dangerous curve that made my heartbeat pound in my ears. He leaned down, his lips brushing against my ear as he whispered something so low and sinful that a wave of heat rushed to my cheeks.
In one fluid movement, he pulled me closer, my body melting against his as if I had been made to fit there perfectly. His hands roamed down my back, every touch igniting sparks under my skin, making me burn with desire.
My breath hitched as his mouth found mine, a deep and hungry kiss that left me dizzy. I cupped the back of his head, kissing him back with a fierce passion. I loved the sweet, intoxicating taste of him. The more I kissed him, the more I craved.
I moaned as he squeezed my breasts softly.
The world outside vanished. There was only his warmth, his weight, and the scent of him that wrapped around me like an anchor. The air between us grew heavier, hotter, as he continued to whisper all the things I loved to hear.
I didn't want this moment to end. I didn't want him to let go. I felt I couldn't live without him, always wanting to be held in his arms and under his chest.
I clung to him, my nails pressing into his shoulders, my body moving with his as if we were caught in a rhythm older than time itself.
His gaze locked with mine as he slowly entered me, a small groan escaping his lips.
I bit my lower lip, a sharp gasp escaping me when his entire length was buried inside me. I squeezed his biceps, needing something to hold on to as his thrusts became deeper and harder. I loved how our bodies were molded and fit together so perfectly. His jaw clenched, sweat beading on his temple.
After a few more powerful thrusts, he commanded, "Turn around, ass in the air."
I obeyed without a word, gasping as he squeezed my butt cheeks before entering me again.
"Oh God, Dimples!" I cried out, the pleasure overwhelming me as he throbbed roughly while rubbing me from the front.
He took a fistful of my hair, pulling me back against his chest and kissing me deeply. "Tell me how much you love your husband inside you."
"So much," I whimpered, my eyes rolling back as I became dizzy with so much pleasure. "I'm coming."
"Come," he smirked, thrusting deeper and harder.
"Ah...!" I screamed, but he covered my mouth.
"Come quietly," he whispered, removing his hand and replacing it with his mouth. "You're so fucking beautiful, Ira."
I lay flat on my stomach, breathing heavily on the bed, after an hour.
Prashant lay next to me, both of us sweaty and panting. I felt his fingers slowly tracing a line down my spine.
"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice full of concern.
"Yes," I said, looking at him. "You were amazing."
"So were you," he grinned.
"I have a question."
"Yes."
"Your mother doesn't seem to care about my supposed pregnancy. You know what I mean. I told the villagers I was pregnant with your child to get you to marry me, but no one has asked me a single question about why I'm not showing. I mean, I'm still the same."
"Because you're not pregnant, Ira."
"But your family and the villagers don't know the truth."
"They do," he sighed. "After we got married, I went to the panchayat and told the villagers you weren't pregnant.
I also told them you weren't a characterless person.
I hated how people were looking at you after you announced your pregnancy.
I told them we loved each other but our families' different castes were a problem.
The villagers wouldn't normally agree to our relationship, but since I'm a hero to them and they found out you were a soldier as well, they made an exception for our marriage. "
"You did all of that... for me?"
"For us," he smiled.
"What about your mother?"
"Please don't be offended, Ira, but she said she'd never accept you into her family."
"But I'm trying everything I can to please her," I mumbled.
"I don't want you to please her. I want you to be what you really are to her."
"I'm..." I hesitated.
"You don't need to justify your actions, Ira, it's okay," he smiled, pulling me closer to him.
I took a long, shaky breath and then released it. "Prashant..." I held his gaze. "I think I'm in love with you."
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