CHAPTER 45
ANIKA
My eyelids flutter open, and the morning sunlight filters through the sheer curtains, soft and warm against my skin.
For a second, I’m suspended between sleep and waking, my limbs heavy, my mind foggy.
But then I feel it—something slow and deliberate between my legs.
My breath catches. That’s not me. That’s not my hand.
My eyes snap open as I look at Aarav beside me. “Aarav,” I whisper, voice thick with sleep and something else—need. Desire. I don’t even know if I’m fully awake yet.
I turn my head slightly, and there he is—my husband.
His dark eyes meet mine, filled with that familiar glint of mischief, and I swear my heart skips a beat.
His body hovers over mine, casting a shadow across my bare skin.
His black hair’s a mess, falling into his forehead, and that damn smirk on his lips makes me ache in places I didn’t even know were awake yet.
“Good morning, wife,” he murmurs, his voice deep and lazy, rumbling through me like a low storm. "You’re quite responsive in your sleep, too." He whispers, pecking my cheek.
Wait… was I asleep? Had I…? God, I can’t even remember. My body is humming, every inch of me lit up with awareness, especially where his fingers are moving inside me—slow, confident, like he has all the time in the world.
“Aarav,” I whisper again, and this time it sounds like I’m begging, even though I’m not trying to. I can’t help it. He knows exactly what he’s doing.
He laughs—low, smug—and leans in close, his breath warm against my ear. “You like that, don’t you?”
I don’t answer. Can’t. My brain isn’t working, not when his fingers twist inside me and find that exact spot that makes my toes curl and my back arch off the bed.
“Tell me, Anika,” he says, voice almost teasing. “Do you like it when I touch you like this?”
I can only nod, biting my lip to keep from moaning too loud. Why am I trying to be quiet? Habit, maybe. I don’t even know. My hips move with his hand on instinct, chasing that edge he’s bringing me to with every stroke.
“That’s it,” he whispers against my neck, kissing the sensitive skin there. “Let go, Anika. Let me hear you.”
And I do.
I break apart with a cry, my body trembling as the orgasm rolls through me like a wave I didn’t see coming. His name tumbles from my lips again—and I don’t even care that I sound desperate. I am desperate. For him. Always for him.
As the shudders fade, he pulls his fingers from me and brings them to his mouth, licking them with an expression that’s almost reverent. “So sweet,” he murmurs, his eyes locked on mine like he’s reading every thought I’m too dazed to form.
Then he kisses me, suddenly and fiercely, and I can taste myself on his tongue—salt and heat mingling with the mint of his toothpaste, and somehow it’s the most intimate thing in the world.
Before I can catch my breath, he’s moving again, lips trailing down my throat, over my collarbone, hands everywhere, mapping me like I’m something sacred.
His mouth closes around my nipple, tongue circling until I moan again, arching into him like my body belongs to him—and maybe it does. Maybe it always has.
But he doesn’t linger there. He has something else in mind.
“On your knees, wife,” he says, voice steady but soft, like he’s giving me both a command and a gift.
I obey, still buzzing from the orgasm, limbs loose, head spinning. I kneel in front of him, our eyes locking—his black eyes even darker now—and I swear the look he gives me undoes me more than anything else. It’s like I’m everything to him, and it terrifies me how much I need that.
"Do you need me?" He asks, and I nod wordlessly. Eager for him.
He cups my cheek, thumb brushing across my lips. “Show me.”
I don’t hesitate. My hands move to his waist, fingers tracing the hard ridges of his abdomen, and I lean in, brushing my lips against the tip of his cock.
He hisses at the contact, his head tipping back just slightly, and I feel this weird sense of power curl inside me.
He’s always in control—except when he is desperate too, like this.
I take him into my mouth, slowly at first, swirling my tongue around the head before sliding down, stretching my lips around his thickness. His hands bury in my hair, guiding me gently, his hips moving in sync with me.
“That’s it, Anika,” he groans, voice tight with need. “Suck me like you mean it.”
Oh, I do. I move with purpose, with heat and hunger, moaning around him just to hear the way it makes him curse under his breath. My hands grip his thighs, nails digging into him for balance, and I take him deeper, letting my throat tighten around him.
He tastes like musk and heat, and the more I give, the more he falls apart.
"I am going to cum, baby." He slows down the pace, but I don't let him. "Anika, baby, you need to let go," he moans.
And I do. But only to let him know that I am not letting go, "Let me swallow it," I say as I take him in again.
His eyes widen. "Are you sure, baby?" He asks, his pupils dilate, and I nod.
His voice is wrecked when he speaks again. “Fuck, Anika… Do it then." He groans, "I want to see you swallow all of it.”
I don’t even pause. When he comes, hot and thick, I drink him down, keeping my eyes on him the whole time. He looks at me like he’s never seen anything more beautiful. Like I’m everything.
When it’s over, he pulls me into his arms, holding me close, kissing my forehead like I’m fragile and precious and his.
“You’re mind-blowing,” he whispers.
But something twists in my chest, even through the haze of satisfaction. I frown slightly, pulling back just enough to look at him.
“Aarav…” My voice is sharper now, more awake. “Why did you do that while I was asleep? I—I didn’t even know what was happening.”
He chuckles, warm and unbothered, tracing my jaw with his fingers. “You didn’t complain when you were screaming my name, wife,” he says, all smug and teasing, and my eyes widen at him. I didn't know you could feel pleasure while asleep. “Besides, you were so responsive. How could I resist?”
My face burns, this time from embarrassment. “That’s not the point,” I mutter, though my irritation is already slipping, melting under the heat of his touch and the look in his eyes.
He leans in, brushing his lips against mine. “How about we make up for it? A date. Just you and me. What do you say?”
I narrow my eyes at him, pretending to consider, but the smile tugs at my lips anyway.
Is he really asking me out? It will be our first date ever.
I had imagined it so many times; it's finally turning into reality.
“It would be my pleasure,” I say. "Pun intended.
" I wink, letting the pun land just to see him groan.
He laughs, shaking his head, pulling me close again. “You’re impossible,” he murmurs.
But the way he holds me says he wouldn’t want me any other way.
And as we lie there tangled together, the morning light warming our skin, I can’t help but think—yeah, this is it.
This is all true. Returning home hasn't broken any bubbles; it is all true.
It was not a dream; he actually likes spending time with me, and he actually wants me.
And now I am going to go on a date with him.
I don't think I have ever felt this happy, but I love it.