40 ~ Broken restraint 🔞
Kartik's POV.
The day had been endless.
The kind of day that drained everything out of me and left me hollow.
All I wanted was to come home. All I wanted was her.
The house was quiet.
But I didn't need to ask where she was.
I walked up the stairs, my footsteps quickening with every step. I reached our bedroom and pushed the door open.
She wasn't inside but the balcony doors were open.
And there she was.
I walked toward her, my footsteps silent on the marble floor. She didn't hear me-she was too lost in her thoughts, her gaze fixed on the horizon.
I stopped behind her.
And I wrapped my arms around her from behind, I pulled her gently against my chest and rested my chin near her shoulder.
She immediately relaxed in my arms.
That small reaction did something to me.
I tightened my embrace, breathing in the familiar scent of her hair before turning her around to face me. The moment our eyes met, whatever restraint I had managed to maintain throughout the day disappeared.
I cupped her face and kissed her.
Hard.
She gasped softly against my lips before her arms slipped around my shoulders, kissing me back with the same intensity. I pulled her closer, deepening the kiss as the last remnants of the day's frustration melted away between us.
My lips crashed against hers with all the hunger I had been holding back all day. All the longing. All the need.
She gasped against my mouth.
I took advantage.
My tongue swept across her lower lip, demanding entry. She opened for me, and I deepened the kiss, tasting her, claiming her, losing myself in her.
My hands roamed her body, her back, her waist. I pulled her closer, pressing her against me, needing to feel every inch of her.
She moaned. "Kartik..."
The sound went straight to my head.
I kissed her harder and deeper like I was starving. Like she was the only thing keeping me alive. Like I would die if I stopped.
"Kartik," she breathed against my lips.
"Hmm?"
She pulled back just enough to look at me.
Her cheeks were flushed.
She was beautiful.
"I missed you," she whispered.
I felt my heart swell.
"I missed you too," I said, my voice rough.
I cupped her face and hugged her.
I had barely wrapped my arms around Chahat after coming home when the memory of that client returned, the way he had looked at her, openly and shamelessly. Anger immediately clouded my mind, and my grip around her waist tightened before I even realized it.
Chahat gasped, making me look down at her. I loosened my hold, but she had already noticed my bruised and cut knuckles.
She took my hand carefully, concern replacing everything else on her face. "Kaise lagi aapko, Kartik? Kya hua yeh?"
(How did you get this Kartik? What happened?)
I looked at my and shook my head. "It's nothing. I accidentally hurt my hand on a ceramic vase."
She clearly didn't believe me, but she didn't question me further.
We went downstairs for dinner, where Dad casually asked whether everything was going smoothly with the business. "Yeah, everything is fine," I replied.
Seema Chachi's eyes briefly moved towards her particularly her clothes, but I ignored it and pulled the chair beside me out for her.
Under the table, I found her hand and held it, smiling when she looked at me.
A moment later, my hand rested lightly on her thigh, and I could see her trying and failing to hide her smile.
Dadi noticed her expression and asked what had happened, but Chahat simply shook her head and said nothing.
Later, when we finally came upstairs, her words from earlier kept echoing in my mind.
I had never expected her to ask me so directly why I hadn't made love to her. It had caught me completely off guard, but beneath the surprise was something else...relief. She was comfortable enough with me to say what she wanted, and for some reason, that mattered to me more than I could explain.
We reached our bedroom after dinner when I stretched my arms, trying to ease the tiredness in my shoulders.
She was watching me, and the suspicious little smile appearing on her face immediately told me she was planning something.
I ignored it.
I took my phone from my pocket and held it out to her. "Isse charger pe laga do."
(Put this on the charger.)
She bit her lower lip, clearly fighting a smile.
"Kyun?" she asked innocently. "Battery down hai kya?"
(Why? Is the battery dead?)
I looked at her with a raised eyebrow.
"What exactly do you mean?"
She glanced at the phone in my hand and immediately corrected herself.
"Mera matlab hai... phone ki."
(I mean... the phone.)
I stared at her for a second before handing it over.
She plugged it into the charger and looked at the screen.
"Haan," she said thoughtfully, "battery toh sach mein down hai."
(Yes, the battery really is dead.)
I narrowed my eyes.
She was doing this deliberately.
"Waise bhi..." she said, turning toward me with that mischievous smile, "Aapki battery toh roz raat ko down hi rehti hai."
(By the way...Your battery is down every night anyway.)
I closed my eyes for a moment. "Chahat."
She giggled. "Kya?"
(What?)
"Phone ki battery."
(The phone's battery.)
She nodded solemnly. "Haan. Main bhi phone ki hi baat kar rahi thi."
(Yes. I was talking about the phone too.)
I shook my head. "You're impossible."
She laughed again, clearly delighted with herself.
I watched her for another second before deciding she'd had enough fun at my expense.
I crossed the room, caught her by the wrist, and pulled her toward me.
Her laughter disappeared instantly.
She looked up at me, suddenly very quiet.
I tightened my hold just enough to keep her close and cupped her cheek with my other hand. "Ab hansi nahi aa rahi?"
(Are you not laughing now?)
She didn't answer.
Instead, she tried to gently free her wrist from my hand.
I pulled her a little closer.
The teasing confidence that had filled her face only moments ago had completely vanished, replaced by a nervous little expression that made me want to smile.
"Kartik..."
I laughed softly and rested my forehead against hers.
I loved this side of her.
The carefree, mischievous wife who wasn't afraid to tease me.
Even if she was slowly testing the limits of my patience.
She went to the bathroom to change her clothes and I got busy with some work.
The bathroom door clicked open.
I looked up from my phone, my breath catching in my throat.
She stepped out.
And I forgot how to breathe.
The nightdress was satin white in colour that caught the dim light and shimmered like liquid. It was short, reaching just past her mid-thigh, the fabric clinging to every curve of her body.
A rope belt was tied loosely at her waist, drawing attention to the gentle swell of her breast, the dip of her waist.
Over it, she wore a translucent robe. It was sheer, delicate, barely there. It draped over her shoulders and fell to her ankles, revealing more than it concealed.
Her hair was loose, cascading down her back in soft waves.
She was so beautiful.
My feelings were already heightened.
The conversation from earlier was still burning in my mind. Why haven't you made love to me yet? The way she had looked at me. The way she had asked. I didn't know how much longer I could wait.
My body was aching for her and my mind was consumed by her.
Every ounce of control I had was slipping through my fingers.
But I knew I had to take things slow.
She looked at me.
Her eyes met mine, and for a moment, neither of us moved.
And then she walked toward the bed.
I couldn't stop looking at her.
The way her nightdress clung to her curves. The way the robe revealed glimpses of her smooth skin. The way her hair fanned out across the pillow.
She was gorgeous. She was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen.
And she was mine.
I walked toward her.
I stopped at the edge of the mattress.
I couldn't help but admire her.
My hand reached for her waist as I pulled her closer and kissed her hard.
Her body melted against me, warm and yielding, and I let myself get lost in the taste of her, in the quiet little sounds she made, in the way her fingers curled into my shirt.
Then she felt it.
My cock had gone fully hard the moment she deepened the kiss. It was thick, insistent, pressing firmly against the soft skin of her thigh through the thin fabric of my trousers. There was no hiding it.
Her eyes flew open.
She pulled back just enough to look down, breath catching sharply in her throat. A deep crimson flush flooded her cheeks, spreading all the way to the tips of her ears.
A low, teasing chuckle rumbled out of me as I watched her flustered reaction. My hand came up to cup her chin, thumb brushing slowly across her lower lip that was still slightly swollen from our kiss.
"Kya hua, Chahat?" I asked, voice dripping with quiet amusement.
(What's wrong, Chahat?)
She shook her head, lips parting but no words coming out.
I tilted her face up gently, keeping her gaze locked on mine.
"Bolo," I murmured, thumb still stroking that soft lower lip. "Kya hua? You're looking at me like you've never felt what you do to your husband before."
(Speak. What happened?)
Her flush deepened. She shook her head again and took a small step back, putting the tiniest bit of space between us.
The loss of her warmth against my aching cock was almost painful, but the shy, flustered look on her face only made me harder.
I didn't let her go far. My other hand settled lightly at her waist, keeping her close enough that she could still feel the heat of me.
"Don't run, baby," I said, voice low and teasing. "You tempted me, made me kiss you... and now you're shy because your husband is hard for you?"
"Kartik..."
I took some steps back and unbuttoned my shirt and tossed it aside.
Her breath hitched the second the fabric left my skin. I watched her eyes darken as they traced every line of muscle I had built, lingering on my shoulders, the cut of my abs, the V that disappeared into my pants.