11. Sona
SONA
S oaked and trembling, I rushed to the shower and stood under a blast of steaming water.
What was I doing? The idea was to have sex with Mihir—that’s all I wanted, a sordid, onetime fling. Then we could go back to being Tara’s friends, happy and content in our separate lives. Yet here I was, letting myself get drawn to him, because he’d aroused feelings I didn’t know existed. Things I didn’t know I wanted. Greedy, brazen desire, for one.
Sex had mostly been a means to an end for me, a way to satisfy my physical need so I could regain my mental acuity. Being wet and needy did weird things to my mind, and sex helped me reinstate myself within civilized society. It didn’t mean I didn’t enjoy it or that I wasn’t good at it, but it wasn’t something I sought out unless my body prompted me. But when I’d seen him the night before, I’d wanted him. I’d wanted the body cutting through the pool like a machete, the arms long and powerful, the legs pushing through the water as if it posed no resistance. Not just sex—I wanted sex with him . He was the end I was seeking.
It was a scary thought. I knew his propensity for short-term affairs, and that’s what I should’ve wanted too. But I was already in danger of falling head over heels for him, which made sex a very, very bad idea.
How shameful was it to have feelings for a man I knew to be a player? The way my mind skipped from one thought to another was the exact way he jumped from one playmate to the next. It was like he had attention deficit of the sexual kind.
Then again, how wise would it be to let this moment slip for fear of ending up hurt? I was a champion of dealing with hurt. I’d survived Ajay. I could survive Mihir.
You’re so beautiful. His voice in my ear promised to erase years of futile agony from an unworthy relationship. The look in his eye had said he really meant it, even if it was only to get me into his bed for a short few hours. Those words had felt validating, especially after the brutal rejection I’d suffered in the past.
It had been a long time since I had heard those words. From someone who meant them too. I had always been at ease with who I was and what I looked like, until the night Ajay had catalogued everything lacking in me. The night he had broken up with me. Because despite everything I had achieved, what mattered in that moment was the singular purpose of the female body: reproduction. Neither my accomplishments nor my desires stood a chance—only my body, its color, its capacity for bringing forth beautiful progeny.
Social status has always been inscribed on and through the female body. Men of means seek out thin, conventionally good-looking women for wives, even as they find sexual, emotional, and intellectual pleasure elsewhere. This is more sinister than the beauty-status exchange that is crassly labeled as the trophy wife phenomenon, which demonizes women as gold-diggers. The real question to ask is, why is it successful? Why can some women successfully trade their beauty for wealth or status? It’s because men, not women, have always set the terms of this exchange. When women were seen as property, having a gorgeous spouse was meant to reflect high status. I knew it. I’d studied it. I had seen it happen to women around me, but I had never imagined I would experience it so intimately.
I turned off the shower, but the shudders reappeared, and I let the stream of hot water run along my body again.
There was only one way out of this conundrum. I needed to maintain distance from him.
What was that rule about playing with fire? Keep it at arm’s length. That’s what my parents had taught me when I was little, and I’d wanted to hold the sparklers at Diwali. You can play with fire, but it is never safe or wise to bring it close to you. Hold it at a distance where it can’t accidentally injure you.
Those were words to live by. I had successfully played with fireworks after that and had never once been burned.
That’s what I needed to do. Sex but no feelings. Keep him and his charm at arm’s distance while I played with him. Set boundaries: once and done. Because the more you played with fire, the higher the chances of accidentally injuring yourself. It was math, a statistical probability.
I shampooed my hair and soaped the chlorine off my skin. When I stepped out of the shower, the trembling had ceased. After moisturizing my body, I pushed the heat diffuser into my hair and dried my damp curls. A dab of lip gloss, a frilly lace teddy, and lace shorts. I pulled on a thick robe and carried myself with diffident steps to the other end of the hallway.
Outside his room, I debated if this was about to be the most asinine thing I’d ever done, or the most adventurous. I knocked softly before I could talk myself out of it.
Mihir answered the door in low-rise gray sweatpants and a thin T-shirt that clung to every sculpted muscle on his broad frame. A towel hung from his left hand. His hair was wet and uncombed, his beard damp. In other words, he looked like a picture-perfect sex god.
“Hey,” he said when I stood gawking at him, honey dripping from my eyes at the sight, mouth at risk of drooling.
“H-hey…” I stuttered.
He raked a hand through his rumpled hair as a faint sound from the far end of the hallway made me swivel around with a start. The light from his room cast long shadows of our bodies across the hallway.
“You better come in,” he urged and closed the door behind me.
“Did you take a shower?” Stupid question.
“Yes.” Painfully obvious answer.
“I was thinking if you hadn’t, umm…found your relief yet, maybe I could help you.”
His response was a frown mixed with a smile. “Is that right?” He caught my eye, taking slow, determined steps toward me. “Is that why you’re here?”
I looked away from his powerful gaze and paced around the room, observing us in the plentiful mirrors along the walls. The only place I couldn’t spot them was the ceiling, thank goodness, although that should’ve been the most obvious choice to put mirrors.
“Are these mirrored walls a lifestyle choice or a coincidence?”
He laughed. “Well, it’s Grant, so I can say with certainty it’s a lifestyle choice.”
I blinked. “Why aren’t there any on the ceiling?”
He looked up. “I don’t know. I’ll ask him the next time I see him.”
He stood by the bed as I walked about, inspecting the interiors. “Yeah, it’s for a reason that there’s an entire hallway between this bedroom and the others. I’m willing to bet it’s soundproof too.”
“So, are we doing this?” I asked, the blood thundering in my ears.
“Are you sure this is what you want?”
“I’m here, aren’t I?” I said with a shy smile.
He cast me a crooked smile, then walked across the room and twisted the lock with a triumphant flair. Tossing his towel away, he strode over to me.
The room around me stilled as he kept advancing.
“Remember my promise to Sameer?” he asked. “I’m not going to touch you.”
It was clear he was goading me. I was in his room, in my negligee underneath that robe. He could have devoured me cold, and I wouldn’t have complained.
Then again, that would’ve been considerably less fun than baiting me into making the first move. He was a player, after all, and I hadn’t forgotten that. I wouldn’t forget that , I reminded myself.
He took another step toward me, and my heart began racing. I took a step back, then another, as he kept advancing. He locked his eyes with mine, and in another step, my back was flush against the glass. I gasped.
“Now you have nowhere to run, Sona Thomas,” he said with a heavy voice and took another step closer.
That was it. That’s all it took to break down the walls around me.
I undid the knot on my robe and shook it off me to let it pool at my ankles. The cold glass stunned me, pressing into every curve on my back.
His eyes widened before he composed himself. He brought his hands to rest on the glass, caging me between them. His eyes roved along my face, studying each feature carefully. They slipped down to my clavicle before he brought them back and steadied them on my eyes. He hadn’t touched me yet, and I was palpitating already.
“Sona.” His voice thundered in my ear, and my stomach took a sharp dip. “Let me tell you how I imagined this.” His eyes dropped down to my chin. “Yes, this is where I want to start, at that gentle curve in your chin. Would you like me to kiss it gently or lick it raw with my tongue?”
I gasped hard. He smirked, and his eyes moved up to my lips. They parted on impact from his powerful gaze. “How will your luscious lips feel in my mouth? Will you let me bite them?”
My palms landed flat on the glass, cold in stark contrast to the onslaught of warmth from Mihir’s body. My chest rose and fell in quick succession, and his eyes darted to my breasts.
“Then, of course, I wonder how your big nipples will feel on my tongue, against the roof of my mouth, firmly clenched between my teeth.”
A gasp, a shuddered breath, more rumbling in my stomach. And below it.
Pleased, he pushed himself off the glass and gazed at me with a lusty look.
“Not enough?” he asked, drawing delight from my distraught condition.
Holding his hand out, he air-glided his finger along my arms. My skin rippled, and he paused to enjoy the fruit of his torment. The finger then traveled to my lips and down my throat, over my chest and stomach, then halted just below the navel.
My thighs clenched, and he saw it.
“Tell me when you want me to stop,” he whispered.
He brought the finger to hover over the lace of my shorts, still not touching me.
“Stop,” I pleaded.
If the idea of his touch was sending me into realms of ecstasy, I wondered if I would be able to survive when he actually put his hands on me. I would surely melt. I would combust.
I wanted that destruction.
“Mihir…” I finally managed.
“Yes, Sona? Are you ready to touch me yet?”
Without another thought, I brought my hand to clutch his shirt and pulled him down toward my face. I stopped inches away from his, but he didn’t move, didn’t lean in. Ruthless , I thought as I huffed with annoyance.
With my gaze on his inviting lips, I inched closer. Shuddering in my skin, I gently placed my lips on his. A sudden electric buzz traveled up my spine, and I stepped back instantly.
I hadn’t anticipated how defenseless I would feel in his arms. For all my bravery and bravado, there was a high chance I would end up melting against his body in a pathetic mess.
But the line had been toed, the Lakshman Rekha breached. The boundary that shouldn’t be crossed had been transgressed in more ways than one.
I stood blinking at him, my heart jumping to my mouth.
“That’s it, Sona. That’s all I needed,” he whispered as he extended his hand to touch my face. The chin first, and he dropped a soft kiss on it. I gasped and found the courage to pull my arms around his firm body.
He stepped closer into my arms and ran his finger over my lips. Then, as if he could hold it back no more, he lowered his mouth to mine. His soft lips made me dizzy. His clean soap smell, mingled with the cedar notes of his lotion, rubbed into my skin, and I began to melt in his arms just as I had feared.
His tongue nudged my lips apart, and I nearly lost my bearing. I kissed him like I was hungry, and he was the only thing that could satiate me. A deep growl emanated from his chest and egged me on.
I stepped back into the mirrored wall as his weight came down on me. His mouth traveled down my throat, and a moan escaped my lips. Then he whipped me around, and my stomach landed firm against the glass. When I felt his lips on the side of my neck, I pulled myself up to catch our image in the mirror. His eyes met mine, and I looked away.
“Look at me,” he growled in my ear before he put distance between the wall and us.
I returned my eyes to the mirror as he kissed the side of my neck and along my clavicle. I felt the heat from his soft breath on my skin. Moving my hair over one shoulder, he slid his hand across my stomach, over my lace shorts. My body reacted with a quick, involuntary shudder.
His hand steadied. “Are we alright?” he asked.
“Yes.” I rasped. “You’re so…”
“Sexy?” he offered and placed a soft kiss on my nape. I leaned back on his body, and his hands came around my waist.
“No,” I said as he leered at me in the mirror.
“Hot?” His eyes followed his hands as they caressed the curve of my waist before coming to rest on my wide hips.
With another shake of my head, I said, “Incorrigible is what I had in mind.”
He laughed. I pushed myself back against him and felt his warm touch on my neck.
“And you’re extraordinary,” he said with his lips on my bare shoulder. “Absolutely sensational.”
The truth in his words pricked me again. This is about sex, not feelings , I reminded myself.
He caught me mid-flight into my thoughts, glared at me, and pulled the cropped teddy off before I could react. I flinched slightly but retained eye contact with him in the mirror, which he approved of with a smile. He flung the piece of clothing to some corner of the mirrored wall and brought his hands to my breasts.
“There’s one thing I hadn’t imagined, though,” he said as his hands kneaded them softly. “I hadn’t imagined how perfect these would look in my hands.” He cupped them to demonstrate. Heat rose to my face as I watched the soft flesh fill out his big palms, the gentle curves spilling over.
“Let’s see how well they fill my mouth,” he said, and without warning, he whipped me around and hoisted me to his hips.
I wrapped my legs around him and locked them at the ankles as his mouth came over my breast. He sucked and nipped greedily, rolling his tongue over my nipple. My head lolled back, and a loud moan escaped as I laced my fingers at his nape. When his touch vanished for a moment, I felt the void in my stomach, but he quickly brought his mouth over the other breast.
A cry emanated from my throat as he dug his teeth into my skin. My hands clutched his hair, his soft beard scraping my chest, and I found myself dripping wet. He set me down and swung me around to face the mirror again. His hands covered my breasts and kneaded them. I threw my head back against him.
“You are so perfect,” he said in my ear and leaned in closer. I felt him hard against my back and greedily reached behind to palm his heavy sweatpants. My lips parted into an involuntary gasp at the touch.
He smiled. “Was that excitement or alarm?” he asked, tenderly caressing my arms, a decided softness on his face. When my shy eyes traveled to the floor, he said, “In that case, I hope to make you very, very happy tonight.”
My heart thudded, my stomach dipped, and my legs threatened to buckle at the promise in those words.
He slid his hand down the lace and into my slick wetness, groaning against my jaw. In a smooth motion, he nudged the shorts down my legs, and I stepped out of them. His attention returned to the thin wisp of hair and the smooth skin around it. When he ran his finger through the slit, I shuddered.
He grabbed me, wrapping his left arm around my waist, and thundered the words in my ear, “Open your legs for me, Sona.”
The demand made my knees tremble, and I gave in with a loud, involuntary moan.
“Wider,” he said, and my legs parted at the urgency in that command.
His grip on my waist stiffened to match the ferocity of his finger exploring me. He thrust one finger in, slowly at first, but as my receptive body drenched it, he glided swiftly, turning me into a helpless mess.
In the mirror, I saw myself losing control to him. Then I caught his image, struggling to maintain mastery over his own faculties, and my heart surged. I spread my legs wider to allow him all the access he wanted.
As if this was the sanction he’d been waiting for, he groaned in my ear again. He brought his thumb to swirl over my clit and pushed two fingers inside to stroke me back and forth. He took his time to get me there, with an arm around my waist to support my gradually fading body. Then, as his movements intensified, my eyes closed, and in a flash, I stood at the threshold of ruin. His thumb drew wild circles as his fingers pressed against the agonizingly sweet spot on the roof. Within seconds, the unannounced orgasm launched at me like an avalanche, pulling everything in its wake, turning bigger and more dangerous. An unlikely scream coincided with a warm spill gushing out of me.
“Fuck, Sona! Yes,” he encouraged as he worked me through it.
I shrieked again. It felt like I would pass out from pleasure. I couldn’t see anything but ear-numbing sparks against my dark, clenched eyelids. I didn’t know orgasms could be this long, this wild, this intense. He held me up with a strong arm as my legs gave way, and I struggled to survive the wild ride. Finally, I yanked out his drenched hand and collapsed against him.