33 Pacifying My Best Friends Brother #2
He swallowed hard, fighting a losing battle against the corners of his mouth. "Still no."
I let out an exaggerated, theatrical sigh. "You are completely impossible, Ansh Raizada."
"I've suffered profound emotional neglect today, Niyati. It takes work."
"You've suffered?"
"Tremendously."
"Fine then," I whispered softly. I cupped his jaw gently with one hand, leaning in close to press a slow, tender kiss directly onto his forehead, letting my lips rest against his warm skin for a long moment. "There."
Ansh's lips twitched uncontrollably, a faint dimple appearing on his cheek.
I caught it instantly. "You smiled! I saw that!"
"I didn't."
"You absolutely did!"
"Didn't," he lied smoothly, though the scowl had completely shattered.
"You're literally smiling right now, Ansh!"
He tried to turn his head away to hide it, but I caught his chin, laughing softly at his failed attempt to stay mad. "Got you."
Ansh finally gave up the act, a rich, breathtaking smile breaking across his face as he looked up at me properly. He reached out, wrapping his hands securely around my waist and pulling me a step closer. "Maybe I need just one more thing to be fully pacified."
I looked down at him, my heart hammering happily. "One more what?"
"A kiss."
I shook my head with a soft chuckle. "Greedy."
"Extremely," he agreed softly, his dark eyes dropping to my lips.
For a moment, he responded, his lips softening under hers, a low sigh escaping his throat. But when she pulled back, the storm in his eyes had only slightly abated. The rigid line of his shoulders had eased by perhaps five percent.
She sighed, a small puff of air against his lips. "Okay?" she whispered, the word a soft, teasing question.
He just stared at her, his dark eyes unreadable, but the shift was enough.
"I changed my mind. I'm just pacfied 5%," he said.
It was a crack in the wall, an invitation.
A slow, mischievous smile bloomed on Niyati's face.
If a kiss on the lips was only worth five percent, she would just have to up the ante.
She kept her eyes locked on his as she began to move, her body a slow, sinuous glide down his torso. Her knees settled on the bed between his thighs.
Her fingers found the top button of his shirt, a small, mother-of-pearl disc. She popped it open, her knuckles brushing against the warm, firm skin of his chest. One by one, she worked her way down, her touch deliberate.
With each button she freed, her fingers lingered, tracing the contours of the muscle beneath. She followed the path of his sternum, feeling the steady, powerful beat of his heart against her fingertips. His breathing hitched, the sound loud in the quiet room.
She pushed the shirt open, revealing the landscape of his body. The hard planes of his pectoral muscles, the ridges of his abdomen, the dark trail of hair that disappeared beneath the waistband of his jeans.
Her fingers danced over his abs, feeling them clench and tighten under her touch. She leaned down, pressing a wet, open-mouthed kiss to his navel, her tongue flicking out to taste the salt of his skin. A low groan rumbled in his chest, a sound of surrender.
Her hands moved lower, to the heavy brass buckle of his belt. The metallic clink as she undid it was sharp, decisive. She tugged the leather free from the loops, the sound a soft hiss in the charged air.
Her fingers then went to the button of his jeans, and then the zipper. She pulled it down slowly, tooth by tooth, her knuckles grazing the hard, straining length of him still trapped beneath the denim.
She hooked her fingers into the waistband of his jeans and his boxers, pulling them down together.
He lifted his hips to help her, and the fabric slid away, revealing him completely.
His cock sprang free, thick and hard, the head flushed a dark, angry purple and already beading with a pearly drop of precum.
Niyati's breath caught in her throat. She settled back on her heels, her gaze drinking him in.
She wrapped her hand around the base of his shaft, her fingers not quite meeting.
He was hot and heavy in her palm, the skin velvety smooth over the rigid steel beneath.
She gave him a slow, firm stroke from base to tip, smearing the wetness from his slit across the head.
Ansh's head fell back, a guttural moan tearing from his throat. His hands, which had been clenched at his sides, flew to her hair, his fingers tangling in the dark strands. He didn't push, just held on, his touch desperate.
Leaning forward, Niyati stuck out her tongue and licked the glistening head of his cock, tasting the salty, slightly bitter flavor of him.
She swirled her tongue around the ridge, tracing the sensitive underside before taking just the tip into her mouth.
She sucked gently, her cheeks hollowing, her tongue flicking against the slit.
His hips jerked upward, a silent plea for more.
She obliged, taking him deeper, inch by glorious inch.
She relaxed her throat, letting him slide into the wet, tight heat of her mouth until her lips met the fingers still circling his base.
He filled her completely, the sheer size of him a delicious, overwhelming presence.
She could feel the thick veins pulsing against her tongue.
She began to move, establishing a rhythm.
She bobbed her head, her lips gliding up and down his shaft, her tongue working in tandem, stroking and swirling.
One of her hands came up to cup his heavy balls, rolling them gently in her palm, her fingertips pressing against the sensitive patch of skin just behind them.
His grip on her hair tightened, his breath coming in harsh, ragged pants. The sounds he made-grunts, moans, her name whispered like a prayer-were the most erotic music she had ever heard.
She looked up at him, at the raw, unguarded pleasure on his face. His eyes were squeezed shut, his brows furrowed in concentration, his lips parted. The composure, the anger, the petulance-all of it was gone, stripped away by the raw, intimate act.
There was only this. Only her, and the pleasure she was giving him. She redoubled her efforts, taking him even deeper, her nose brushing against the coarse hair at his base. She felt him swell in her mouth, his entire body going taut as a bowstring.
With a hoarse cry, he came, his hips thrusting forward as he spilled himself down her throat. She swallowed, taking everything he had to give, her mouth working around him until he was spent. He collapsed back against the headboard, his chest heaving, his body limp.
Niyati slowly released him, pressing one last, soft kiss to his sensitive head before sitting up. She wiped a stray drop from the corner of her mouth with her thumb, her eyes meeting his. He looked utterly wrecked, his eyes dark and dazed, a slow, satisfied smile finally gracing his lips.
The storm had passed. In its place was a quiet, profound stillness, a shared intimacy that felt more real than any words. He reached for her, pulling her up into his arms, and she settled against his chest, listening to the steady, calming rhythm of his heart.
The steady rhythm of Ansh's heartbeat under her ear was a comforting drum, a stark contrast to the tense silence that had filled the room just moments before.
Niyati let out a soft sigh, her body lax against his.
She felt his fingers, which had been stroking her hair in a lazy, satisfied manner, still for a moment.
Then, they began to move again, but with a different purpose. The lazy caress transformed into a possessive sweep, his palm sliding down her spine, over the curve of her ass, and back up her side, mapping the terrain of her body as if staking a claim.
His grip tightened on her hip, and before she could process the shift, the world tilted. With a grunt of effort, Ansh rolled them, using his body weight to flip her onto her back. He loomed over her, his knees bracketing her thighs, his spent cock brushing against the fabric of her jeans.
The soft, satisfied smile was gone, replaced by a look of raw, predatory intent that sent a jolt of heat straight to her core. His shirt hung open, revealing the hard planes of his chest she had just worshipped with her mouth.
"Half-finished," he growled, his voice a low rasp that vibrated through her. His eyes, dark and intense, held hers captive. "Your apology is only half-finished, Niyati."
He didn't wait for a response. He lowered his head, but not to her mouth. His lips found the sensitive skin just below her ear, and he bit down gently, just enough to make her gasp. His hands were busy, tugging at the hem of her top.
He didn't bother with finesse; he simply pulled it up and over her head in one swift motion, tossing it aside. The cool air hit her skin, pebbling her nipples into tight beads. His gaze dropped to them, a hungry glint in his eyes before he bent his head again.
This time, his mouth closed over one peak through the thin lace of her bra. The fabric was a frustrating barrier, a tease that amplified the sensation. He swirled his tongue, a wet, hot circle that made her arch her back, a silent plea for more.
He obliged, his teeth scraping lightly over the sensitive bud, pulling a sharp hiss from between her lips. His other hand wasn't idle; it slid down her stomach, his fingers hooking into the waistband of her jeans. He popped the button open with a flick of his thumb, the sound loud in the quiet room.
He shifted his attention to her other breast, giving it the same torturous, thorough treatment while his hand worked her zipper down. His knuckles brushed against the sensitive skin of her lower belly as he tugged the denim over her hips.
She lifted her ass to help him, and he peeled her jeans and panties down her legs in one rough motion, leaving her bare except for the useless bra. He sat back on his heels for a second, his eyes raking over her, a look of pure, unadulterated ownership on his face. Then, he was on her again.
His mouth began a slow, deliberate descent.