24. Sona
SONA
I wanted him to come back, and if my experience with him had taught me anything, it was that he was a man of his word. He had proved that over and over again.
So I prepared myself, physically and emotionally—not that I was complaining. Of course not. I was looking forward to being in his arms again.
I removed the full-skirt lehenga I was wearing before I cleaned, washed, and rinsed. I considered changing, but I wanted it to be a chore for him to get me naked, so instead of slipping into something comfortable, I put my lehenga back on, draping the dupatta. It wasn’t perfect, but there were enough pins to delay his gratification, pun intended.
After about forty-five minutes, there was a knock on my door. My heart thumped.
“It’s me,” he said when I stepped closer to the door, wary.
His words, his voice, sent a thrill up and down my body, and I found myself getting ready for him a little too eagerly. I opened it, and he stood there with a determined face, hands planted on the doorjamb.
“Do you really want to do this?” he asked.
“If you want it too. If not, I’m happy to call it off. It’s not as if I’m dying to do it.”
That was a blatant lie. I was. I really was. I had dreamed about it all day—peeling that rich green and gold sherwani off his sculpted body, running my fingers over his smooth torso, all the way to the delectable dip in his hipbone…
“Then let’s do it,” he said as if it were a business deal.
My eyes focused back on his face. I responded with a haughty sniff. “Do you want to come in or just have a verbal duel across the threshold?”
He stepped in.
“Did your parents get home okay? It was a long day. They must’ve been tired.”
“My parents are my responsibility. You needn’t concern yourself with them,” he said with a huff.
I turned on my heel and planted a strong hand on his chest. “Let’s get one thing straight, Mihir Seth. Whatever the equation between us, I will always care about your parents, and there is nothing you can do to stop me. You get that? My relationship with them is my own, irrespective of you. Irrespective of us.”
His face remained unchanged, but I saw his eyes soften for a moment before he returned a nod. “Understood, now strip,” he ordered.
“No,” I retorted. “You want control, you do it.” I repeated my line from Montréal.
This time, he smirked. “ Gladly . Anything off limits?” he asked, unbuttoning his heavy brocade jacket.
“No pinning down my arms. Torso is okay,” I said, walking toward the bed. “You?”
“No choking.”
“Got it. Are you going to undress me, or do I have to do that myself?” I tossed out a challenge, and he lapped it up.
I chuckled inside as he stepped closer and began tugging at the dupatta.
“Safety pins,” I said and pointed to several places I had pinned, haphazardly so in places, just to annoy him.
But meticulous as he was, it didn’t seem to bother him. He patted me down and found every pin I had pushed into my ornate blouse, undoing them carefully and tenderly, never once letting either the steel of the pin or its prickly top touch my skin.
I resisted the urge to slide my hand up his naked torso. He stood with his buttons undone but the clothing still on him. The open sherwani flapped against our thighs as he circled me, undoing the pins. I felt the warmth of his body brushing against me, his rich, heady smell sinking into my soul.
“Is kissing allowed?” I asked, peering into his determined eyes with my needy, doe-like ones.
I expected him to grin at my desperation, but he just nodded. The next moment, I grabbed his face between my palms and brought it down to meet my lips. I let my hunger for him show as I sucked his lips and tongue, but I was also angry that he had so easily allowed me to walk away after I took offense at Anju’s words. I bit his bottom lip at the memory, and he groaned in pain.
“Sorry!” I said, immediately realizing my folly.
“Dammit, Sona! You’re so fucking hot.”
He undressed quickly and pulled the cord of my lehenga. It slipped down my legs and gathered in a halo around my ankles. As I stepped out of the pool, he picked it up and laid it on the chair. Then, with haste, he yanked down my panties, kicked them away, and undid the hooks and cord holding my blouse in place. The moment it was off, he pounced on my breasts.
“Not so fast, mister,” I said as I pulled down his briefs, finding him heavy and ready for me.
As I grabbed him and decided on my next move, he gripped my chin with one hand and pinched my nipple with the other until I winced.
“Not this time, Thomas. I won’t give you the pleasure.”
“Try and stop me,” I cried, ravaged with need and annoyance. I stroked him harder and teased the head with my thumb until my finger was wet and sliding all over him like an out-of-control skater.
He lifted me off the floor and dropped me on the bed, coaxing my legs apart. I fought against myself, but my need won. I rocked with him as he employed everything available to him at the moment to disarm me.
“Condom,” I said between breaths. “Now.”
He heeded immediately, and as he entered me, I felt his throbbing. I hugged him tight and rolled with him to get on top as I pulled my legs from beneath him and repositioned myself. I felt him deeper inside me and found his resistance weakening. His grip on my waist loosened as his eyes dropped shut, and I grazed and teased and clutched him tight, digging my nails into his skin.
With a groan, he brought his hand to my upper arms, closing his fingers around them. I raked my nails along his shoulders and down his arms as he let out a series of sighs and hisses.
He pulled himself up to grab my breast in his mouth. True to his word, he wasn’t gentle—I felt his teeth sink into my skin. I yelled, but not in complaint. No, I wanted more. Cradling his head, I pushed his face deeper into my chest. When he moved his mouth to the other breast, I urged him again, and he gave me the bite marks I so desperately craved.
As I stood at the threshold of the promised ruin, an involuntary moan escaped my mouth. “Oh, Mi—” I stopped. I wasn’t going to give him the pleasure.
His fingers dug into my arms. “Say it, Sona. Say my name. Show me how much you’re enjoying this.”
I writhed and wriggled, inching closer to the cliff. I was determined not to utter his name, although its melody was strumming through my veins.
That irked him, and he tried tipping me to exchange positions, only I had gripped his shoulders and was about to explode. He felt me and, in a weak moment, allowed himself to indulge in that feeling.
I let out a wanton scream as my insides tightened around him, and I kept up my rhythm to extend the delightful feeling. When my tender clit had had enough, it fired back at me, and I relented, flopping to the bed in agony.
Fierce as his face was, he allowed me the space, for a moment, at least. “Ready?” he asked with impatience.
At my nod, he flipped me over and hoisted up my hips. Positioning himself behind me, he spanked me hard before thrusting into me. My back arched with pleasure. Each angry thrust was followed by a thump on my buttocks. My traitorous heart soared at the thought of his palm print on them. The arrogant man knew exactly what he was doing, and it irked me that I was enjoying all of it.
“Say my name, Sona,” he demanded as he continued his thwacking.
Yes, sure I was going to just bend over and say his name. Well, I was bent over, but I wasn’t going to say his name and grant him that win.
“Say it, Sona. Tell me how hard I’m winning at this,” he tried to provoke me, but I held my silence, allowing my body to rock with him.
He groaned, grunted, and cursed before he succumbed. As I collapsed onto my stomach, he fell on his back beside me.
When our racing hearts slowed down, he turned to his side and placed a gentle hand on my buttocks. “Did that hurt? Are you in pain?” he asked caressing my tender skin.
“No,” I said, but he got off the bed, stepped to the bathroom and returned with a tube of my body cream.
I remained motionless from the most satisfying fatigue ever, as he applied the emollient over my tingling skin. At that point, the only thought haunting me was that I wanted to spend an eternity lying naked next to this fantastic man. If only he’d wanted me the same way.
“Turn over,” he ordered.
I tumbled over, and he applied the cream to my breasts, checking for broken skin. I had none, only bruises from the rough session. Our eyes locked as he leaned in, and I thought he was going to kiss me. My lips parted, although the rest of my body lay still with exhaustion. He stayed there for a few beats, then pulled away and returned the body cream to the bathroom.
“I better leave,” he said, as he pulled up his briefs.
The sting from his declaration hurt deep. “You better. You didn’t think I was letting you spend the night here, did you?” I quipped.
“I wouldn’t want to,” he said from the edge of the bed, pulling the tight salwar leggings up his strong limbs. “You snore.”
I sat up with a frown. “Get out,” I said, and he found delight in my anger.
I was still naked when he was dressed and ready to leave. I pulled a robe off the chair where I had tossed it that morning.
“Lock it,” he ordered at the door. He extended a hand to touch the hair falling across my cheek, but he retracted it and straightened, gazing into my eyes instead.
“Tomorrow?” he asked with a hastily put-on grump.
My chest turned heavy, and I clutched the door to prevent myself from leaping into his arms when he was ready to make his escape. I held my hurt and my silence.
“Tomorrow?” he asked again with blatant need in his voice.
“Yes,” I said and hurriedly closed the door behind him.