28 Got Back Together
"Tell me to stop," Ansh rasped against her skin, his breath hot against her collarbone, his fingers digging gently into her waist. "Tell me you don't want this, Niyati... tell me, and I'll walk away right now."
Niyati's chest heaved, her hands tightening in his hair. She opened her eyes, looking down at his face buried against her neck, his pulse hammering as wildly as her own.
"Ansh, don't you dare stop," she whispered breathlessly, leaning down to capture his lips once more.
Her words were a lit match to gasoline. The last fragile thread of Ansh's control snapped. He crushed his mouth to hers, a raw, hungry groan vibrating in his chest as he devoured her. This was no longer a plea or an apology; it was a claiming.
His other hand shot up, tangling in the hair at the nape of her neck, holding her captive for the ferocious sweep of his tongue.
He angled his head, deepening the kiss until it was all-consuming, a frantic, messy exploration that tasted of salt from her tears and the desperate need they'd both starved for.
Niyati met his intensity with her own. Her hands fisted in his hair, not gently now, but with a desperate grip that pulled a hiss from him. She arched into him, her breasts flattening against the hard wall of his chest, the silk of her gown a flimsy barrier against the wool of his tuxedo.
She could feel the frantic, unsteady beat of his heart hammering against her ribs, a primal drum that echoed the throbbing ache between her own thighs.
Every coherent thought fractured, replaced by the singular, overwhelming imperative to get closer, to feel more, to erase the months of emptiness with the solid, undeniable reality of his body against hers.
His lips broke from hers, leaving her gasping for air, but the reprieve was fleeting.
Ansh's mouth blazed a trail down the elegant column of her throat, his kisses hot, open, and wet.
He nipped at the sensitive skin where her neck met her shoulder, and Niyati cried out, a sharp, shocked sound that was half-pain, all-pleasure.
His hands were no longer gentle; they roamed her body with a proprietary urgency, sliding down her back to cup the full curves of her ass, pulling her hard against his erection.
The thick, rigid length of him pressed insistently against her belly, a blatant promise of what was to come, and a fresh wave of slick heat flooded her pussy.
"Ansh," she gasped, his name a ragged prayer on her lips.
He responded by lifting her, his strength effortless.
A soft gasp escaped her as her feet left the floor, her legs automatically wrapping around his lean waist.
The new position was dizzying. The silk of her gown rode up her thighs, bunching around her hips as he pressed her against the cold marble of the vanity.
The shock of the stone against her bare skin was a stark counterpoint to the searing heat of his body.
He was all around her, his thighs bracketing hers, his chest pinning her, his mouth returning to hers in a kiss that was even more possessive than before.
His tongue fucked into her mouth, a deliberate, rhythmic thrusting that mimicked the primal dance she craved, and she moaned, grinding herself against the hard bulge straining the fabric of his trousers.
He tore his mouth away again, his breathing harsh and ragged. His eyes, dark and burning with an emotion so raw it made her ache, locked onto hers. "I love you," he growled, the words torn from his throat, thick with a desperation that mirrored her own. "I've always loved you. Let me show you."
His hands moved with renewed purpose, sliding down between their pressed bodies. His fingers found the hem of her gown, bunching the silk in his fists before his hands slipped underneath, seeking bare skin. The touch of his palms on her thighs was electric.
His touch was reverent yet urgent, his fingers tracing the sensitive skin, his thumbs stroking the crease where her leg met her torso.
He was so close, so torturously close to where she needed him most.
Niyati's head fell back against the mirror, her eyes closing as she surrendered to the sensations, her body trembling.
"Ansh," she whispered, her voice breaking, "I need you."
It was the permission he'd been waiting for.
He stepped back just enough, his hands still gripping her waist, and with one decisive tug, he pulled the gown down.
The delicate chiffon whispered over her skin, catching for a moment on her breasts before sliding down to pool in a shimmering starry puddle at her feet.
She stood before him in only a pair of simple, lace panties, her body bared to his hungry gaze.
Ansh's breath hitched. His eyes darkened, the raw, unfiltered adoration in them so intense it was almost painful to witness.
He looked at her as if he were a starving man finally presented with a feast.
His hands, which had been so sure and dominant moments before, now trembled slightly as he reached for her.
He cupped her breasts, testing their weight, his thumbs brushing over the tight, aching peaks of her nipples. The contact sent a bolt of pure pleasure straight to her core, and she cried out, her hands flying to his shoulders to steady herself.
"You're mine," he murmured, his lips brushing hers, his voice a hoarse whisper that was both a statement and a vow. "Always have been, always will be."
He began to unbutton his tuxedo jacket, his eyes never leaving hers.
Each button that came undone was another layer of restraint falling away.
He shrugged off the jacket, letting it drop to the floor, then his fingers went to the crisp white shirt.
Niyati's hands moved of their own accord, her fingers tracing the hard planes of his chest through the fabric, her touch hungry, desperate.
She wanted to feel him, all of him. He tore at his shirt, sending buttons skittering across the tiled floor, and finally, his chest was bare to her touch.
She leaned forward, pressing her lips to the warm, salty skin over his heart. He groaned, his hands tangling in her hair again, holding her to him as he stepped closer, his body pressing against hers once more.
His lips captured hers in a deep, drugging kiss as his hands slid down to the back of her thighs, lifting her effortlessly onto the vanity. The cold marble against her overheated skin made her gasp, and he took the opportunity to settle himself between her spread legs.
Their movements were frantic yet tender, a beautiful, chaotic symphony of need and love.
Ansh's fingers slid into the waistband of her panties, his knuckles brushing against her sensitive flesh as he drew them down her legs.
He tossed them aside, his gaze dropping to the slick, glistening folds of her pussy.
He growled, a low, possessive sound of approval. His fingers traced her wet slit, parting her folds, his touch deliberate, worshipful, as he explored the slick heat of her. Niyati arched into his hand, her breath catching in her throat as he found the tight bundle of nerves at her apex.
"Please," she whispered, her voice raw, her body trembling with the unbearable need for release. "Please, Ansh."
He positioned himself at her entrance, the thick, blunt head of his cock nudging against her soaking wet opening. He looked into her eyes, his own dark with emotion, and slowly, so slowly, he pushed forward.
Niyati gasped, her nails digging into his shoulders as he stretched her, filling her inch by agonizing inch until he was buried to the hilt. He paused, his lips brushing her forehead, letting her adjust to the overwhelming sensation of being so completely, utterly full of him.
"I'll never leave you," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "Never again."
He began to move, his hips withdrawing almost completely before sliding back in, a slow, deep rhythm that was both gentle and relentless.
Each thrust was a promise, a declaration, a sealing of the words they had just spoken.
Their breaths mingled in the cool air, their hearts pounding in unison.
The world outside this small room had ceased to exist.
There was only the sound of their bodies moving together, the slick slap of skin on skin, and the profound, undeniable love that had finally brought them back together.
He increased his pace, his thrusts deepening, his body surrendering to the overwhelming intensity of their connection, and Niyati met him thrust for thrust, her body rising to meet his, her soul crying out in joyous surrender.
The slow, deliberate rhythm of Ansh's hips drove Niyati to the edge of sanity.
Each deep thrust sent waves of pleasure through her body, making her toes curl against the cold marble.
Her fingers, which had been clutching his shoulders, began a slow descent down his back, tracing the ridges of his spine through the thin fabric of his trousers.
The muscles beneath her touch flexed with each movement, evidence of his control, his restraint.
Niyati's hands finally reached their destination, cupping the firm globes of Ansh's ass through his trousers.
The expensive fabric did little to hide the power contained there, the strength with which he drove into her.
She squeezed, testing the hardness, the resilience of his muscles.
His response was immediate-a sharp intake of breath, a slight falter in his rhythm before he resumed with renewed intensity.
Her body trembled uncontrollably now, small earthquakes of need rippling through her limbs. The slow, tender fucking wasn't enough; she needed more, needed everything he had to give.
She pulled him closer with her hands on his ass, grinding her pelvis against his, trying to take him deeper, to erase any remaining space between their bodies. The lace of her panties, still tangled around one ankle, brushed against his trousers with each movement.
"Fuck me harder, Ansh," she whispered, her voice ragged with desire. The words barely escaped her throat, strained with the effort of speaking while being so thoroughly filled. "Make me yours completely."
Ansh's response was instantaneous and devastating.