Pleasure
Devyani sat on his lap like she belonged there.
Because she did.
RIVAN lay back against the wide bonnet of the car, shirtless beneath the cold midnight wind, the metal still warm from the engine but nowhere near enough to cool the fire raging under his skin.
Moonlight spilled over him shamelessly.
Over the sharp lines of his chest.
Over the rise and fall of his breathing.
Over the dangerous calm in his eyes as he watched his wife sitting above him like temptation itself.
And Devyani
half drunk, half innocent, and fully dangerous
was busy doing something that made even RIVAN Thakur stop breathing for a second.
She had taken the end of her pallu.
And she was wrapping it around his wrists.
Slowly.
Carefully.
Like she was doing the most normal thing in the world.
His brows lifted.
His eyes widened.
For once
genuinely shocked.
She gave the fabric another little pull, tying his wrists together loosely against the bonnet.
Then she looked down at him, her expression so heartbreakingly innocent it should have been illegal.
Soft eyes.
Pink cheeks.
Swollen lips.
And a voice too sweet for the crime she was committing.
"She tied him with something..."
she said softly, almost like she was explaining a bedtime story.
Then she frowned slightly.
Another tug.
Silence.
RIVAN stared at her.
Processing.
Slowly.
Very slowly.
Because his wife
his sweet, innocent wife
had apparently decided tonight was the perfect time to experiment with power.
And honestly?
He should have stopped her.
He should have said something.
Instead
somewhere deep inside
a smirk rose.
Because while she had been busy being chaos,
he had been busy being RIVAN.
One phone call.
That was all.
No cars.
No strangers.
No interruptions.
No witnesses.
No rescue.
Just moonlight.
Silence.
And her.
He was absurdly proud of that.
Devyani sat there, looking at him with complete seriousness.
Then blinked.
A pause.
God.
He almost laughed.
RIVAN shifted slightly beneath her, testing the soft restraint of the pallu around his wrists, then looked up at her like a man willingly walking into his own destruction.
His voice was low.
Warm.
Dangerously calm.
Her face brightened instantly.
He tilted his head.
She gasped dramatically.
She placed a hand dramatically on her chest.
A serious nod.
RIVAN looked at her.
Then at the empty glasses memory in his mind.
Then back at her.
Liar.
Cute liar.
His gaze dropped for one dangerous second.
Because her saree had shifted again.
Because the neckline of her blouse was testing both religion and self-control.
Because yes
he had seen her boobs before.
Many times.
But somehow every single time
it still sent a violent shiver down his spine.
Still made him feel like a starving man pretending he was civilized.
He immediately moved his gaze away.
Respectfully.
Survival first.
But she noticed.
Of course she noticed.
She narrowed her eyes suspiciously.
His ears burned instantly, betraying him in the most humiliating way possible.
That familiar heat crept up his neck, staining the tips of his ears crimson as she leaned closer, far too close, her warm breath brushing against his throat like a whispered threat.
RIVAN hated that.
Because she noticed everything.
And right now, she was noticing exactly what she was doing to him.
Devyani's eyes shimmered with drunken curiosity and soft mischief, her lashes lowering as she studied him like he was some beautiful puzzle she had finally decided to solve.
Then
her lips touched his skin.
Soft.
Barely there.
Just a teasing brush at first, light enough to make him question if it had even happened.
But it had.
God, it had.
A violent shiver ran through him anyway.
Because when it came to her, even the smallest touch felt like destruction.
She kissed him slowly.
Deliberately.
Like she had nowhere else to be.
Like time itself had stopped just to watch her ruin him.
Her lips traced along the sharp line of his jaw, warm and slow, each kiss stealing another piece of his restraint. She moved lower, unhurried, her mouth finding the place where his pulse betrayed him most.
That sensitive spot.
Where his neck met his shoulder.
Where every nerve ended.
And began again.
RIVAN's breathing changed instantly.
Sharper.
Heavier.
His chest rose beneath her, his tied wrists flexing uselessly against the pallu restraint as he fought the urge to grab her, stop her, pull her closer he didn't know anymore.
She paused there.
Right there.
As if she knew.
As if she could hear how violently his heart was pounding.
Then he felt it.
Her mouth opened slightly.
The soft scrape of her teeth against his skin.
A warning.
A promise.
And then
she sucked.
Hard.
A sharp breath tore from him before he could stop it.
His head tipped back against the bonnet, throat exposed completely, eyes shutting as sensation shot straight through him like lightning.
Pain.
Pleasure.
Possession.
All tangled into one unbearable second.
Her lips stayed there, firm and warm, claiming him with that tiny mark like she was signing her name into his skin.
His skin burned where she touched him.
His entire body burned.
And when she finally pulled back, slow enough to make it worse, the mark remained.
Visible.
Real.
Hers.
Devyani looked at it with wide, fascinated eyes, like she had just discovered magic.
Then she smiled.
Small.
Proud.
Completely innocent.
Her voice sounded like a child showing off a drawing.
RIVAN opened his eyes slowly, staring at her like she had personally ended civilizations.
His voice came out rough.
Ruined.
A pause.
A sharp hiss escaped his lips.
Then she start giving him a love bite, but not just any love bite.
Her tongue lapped at the skin first, a wet, soothing stroke, before she sealed her lips around the spot and pulled.
The pressure built, a delicious, stinging pull that sent a shudder down his spine.
She held it, her breath hot and humid against his skin, until the darkness of her mark was sure to bloom.
When she finally pulled back, she licked the bruised spot once more, a final, possessive claim.
"You're shirtless," she said, her voice a mock-scold. "How rude."
Before he could form a coherent response, her hands were at her own blouse.
With a flick of her fingers, the hooks came undone.
She pulled the fabric aside, revealing the smooth curve of her shoulders, the dip of her collarbone.
Then, with a careless toss, she threw the blouse away.
It fluttered somewhere into the darkness. She sat there in just her bra, her breasts pushed up, the valley of her cleavage a deep, inviting shadow.
She looked down at him, a smirk playing on her lips.
His name.
She'd said his name AGAIN.
The sound of it, spoken with such daring confidence, sent a rush of heat through his veins.
He felt his control slipping, felt the leash of his composure straining.
He growled, a low, guttural sound that rumbled from deep in his chest. "Yeah. You're right."
"Don't tell me I'm a girl and I can't do this," she said, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "It's you who did this first. I'm just continuing your dirty things."
"Dirty?" He tilted his head, a teasing challenge in his gaze. "Me?"
"Accept it, Mr. Thakur," she purred, leaning down again. "If you say so."
Then her focus shifted. Her eyes traced over his bare chest, her gaze hungry, appreciative. "Now let me focus on your body," she murmured.
She started at his collarbone. Her lips pressed feather-light kisses along the ridge, moving to the hollow of his throat.
Her tongue darted out, tasting his skin.
He tasted like salt and heat and her.
She kissed down his sternum, slow, torturous, her hair brushing against his nipples, making them pebble.
He moved, a slight shift of his hips. She stopped instantly. "Stop moving, Mr. Thakur," she commanded.
She looked up at him, her eyes curious, playful. "You look very delicious," she said, her voice dropping to a whisper. "Like... yummy, yummy."
A smirk curved his lips. "Hmm. I'll show you what 'yummy' is, baby. Just wait."
"Challenge?" She raised an eyebrow, a spark of fire in her eyes.
He raised one too. "Maybe."
She tightened the pallu, pulling his wrists closer together until the fabric bit into his skin. "Let's see, then."
Her eyes traveled down.
From his face, down his chest, over the ripples of his abs, until they stopped at the metal buckle of his belt.
Rivan had never, in his wildest dreams, expected her to go there.
His breath caught in his throat.
"No," he breathed.
"Yes," she countered, her voice soft but firm. "And it's not like I haven't seen you before. I saw you once. You were in the bathroom, Mr. Thakur."
His ears turned crimson. "That was an accident, Devyani. This is—"
"This is what, Rivan?" She tilted her head, her expression sweetly innocent. "Will you complain?" She gave a wink, a brazen, tempting gesture. "Do it. I don't care."
He was speechless.
Completely.
Utterly.
For perhaps the first time in his entire life, RIVAN Thakur had no words.
He just stared at her.
At the determined flush on her cheeks.
At the trembling bravery in her hands.
At the way innocence and boldness somehow coexisted so perfectly inside one woman.
And then
in one smooth, reckless motion
her fingers reached for his belt.
The metallic buckle clicked softly in the silence.
A sharp, intimate sound.
His entire body went still.
The leather slid through the loops with a slow, dangerous whisper.
Thwip.
The sound felt louder than thunder.
She pulled it free.
And suddenly
she was holding his belt in her hands.
Like a trophy.
Like a weapon.
Like a challenge.
Moonlight caught against the leather as she lifted it slightly, staring at it with fascinated triumph, and RIVAN
God.
His heart slammed against his ribs like it was trying to escape.
The cold wind didn't matter anymore.
The empty road didn't matter.
The seized silence, the blocked streets, the night itself
none of it mattered.
There was only this.
Only her.
This bold, impossible woman who had somehow turned the entire world upside down and left him willingly kneeling in the ruins.
She tossed the belt aside.
It hit the asphalt with a sharp sound.
Final.
Damning.
Like the last warning before disaster.
Then
her fingers moved lower.
To the button of his jeans.
And suddenly even breathing felt like a task.
She was fumbling.
Just slightly.
Her hands trembling enough to betray her.
Enough to reveal the truth beneath all this confidence
she was nervous.
Terrified, even.
This was new.
She had never done this before.
She was walking blind through fire, pretending she wasn't scared of the flames.
And yet
she kept going.
Because she was brave.
Because she trusted him.
Because tonight, love had made her reckless.
RIVAN saw it all.
That tiny flicker of uncertainty in her eyes.
That silent question.
Am I doing this right?
Am I enough?
His chest tightened painfully.
He wanted to stop her.
Wanted to catch her hands, kiss her forehead, tell her she never had to prove anything to him.
But the words
the words died in his throat.
Because then
she managed it.
The button popped open.
Soft.
Sharp.
A tiny sound that somehow felt louder than his own heartbeat.
She froze for a second.
So did he.
Then slowly
she looked up.
Their eyes locked.
And the world disappeared.
No wind.
No night.
No road.
Just him.
Just her.
And the unbearable intimacy of being seen like this.
Her voice came barely above a whisper.
Fragile.
Brave.
Dangerously honest.
She swallowed.
Her fingers still resting there, uncertain and bold all at once.
His breath stopped.
She held his gaze.
And whispered
Silence.
Heavy.
Burning.
The tension between them stretched like a wire pulled too tight, humming with heat and want and the terrifying beauty of first times.
The scent of her perfume mixed with the warmth of his skin.
The cold wind moved around them, but neither felt it.
They existed somewhere else now.
A private world.
A fragile, dangerous place made of moonlight, trust, and the kind of desire that changes people.
He was bound.
She was in control.
And for the first time in his life
RIVAN was not fighting it.
Not resisting.
Not leading.
Just surrendering.
Willingly.
Completely.
At her mercy.
He lifted his tied hands slightly, the pallu around his wrists tightening just enough to remind them both of who held the power tonight.
Then he smiled.
Slow.
Dark.
Ruined.
And his voice came low enough to make her shiver.
He leaned closer.
Close enough that his lips nearly touched hers.
A pause.
His breath brushed her mouth.
The soft click of his pant button undoing echoed in the night air like a gunshot.
Devyani's fingers trembled as she worked the metal through the loop, her heart hammering so loud she was certain Rivan could hear it.
She looked up at him through her lashes, a nervous smile playing on her lips the innocent smirk she had practiced in her mind a hundred times, but now it felt fragile, like glass about to shatter.
Rivan's breath caught. His eyes darkened as he watched her, his jaw tightening.
"You are starting, kitten," he said, his voice low and strained. "Later, don't blame me."
She tried to sound bold, her words coming out breathier than she intended. "Aye chal be chikne."
But her hands betrayed her.
As she slid them inside his pants the fabric warm from his body heat a wave of dizziness washed over her.
What am I doing?
This is insane.
Her fingers brushed against the smooth skin of his lower abdomen, and she felt him shudder.
Rivan shifted beneath her touch, his hips twitching involuntarily. "Kitten... ah... please..."
His voice cracked on the last word, and something raw flickered across his face.
He was a man caught between wanting to stop her and desperately wanting her to continue.
His hands hovered in the air, not knowing whether to push her away or pull her closer.
Devyani pressed her lips together. "No."
She moved her fingers deeper, past the waistband of his underwear, her knuckles brushing against the coarse hair at the base of his belly.
Her entire body was trembling now a fine, uncontrollable shiver that ran from her scalp down her spine, settling in her trembling thighs.
Her palms were slick with sweat.
She didn't know where to look at his face, at her hand, at the sky.
Everything felt too real.
Shivers run down a spine.
She felt them.
Cold cascades of electricity that made her breath hitch, her heart race.
My hands tremble.
She could barely control them.
They moved of their own accord, clumsy and hesitant, as if they had a mind separate from her racing thoughts.
And Rivan...
His veins popped out along his arms and neck, serpentine lines of blue and purple standing stark against his flushed skin.
His forehead glistened with sweat.
His breathing had become ragged, each inhale a struggle, each exhale a shaky release.
He looked like a man standing on the edge of a cliff, wind whipping around him, every muscle coiled and ready to jump or to fall.
She leaned close to his ear, her lips brushing the shell of it, her voice a whisper thick with nervousness.
Rivan's entire body went rigid. He was struggling for air, his chest heaving as if he'd been running. "B... baby... first... remove your hand."
The words came out broken, desperate.
His veins bulged at his temples, a throbbing pulse visible in the hollow of his neck.
His eyes were squeezed shut, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. He was fighting for control and losing.
Devyani pulled back, a strange confidence blooming in her chest despite her shaking limbs.
The thought screamed in her mind.
His cock was thick and hard in her grasp, pulsing with heat, so much larger than she had imagined.
She could feel every vein under her fingertips, the weight of it in her palm. Her hand felt small around it.
Rivan let out a sound she had never heard from him a low, guttural moan that seemed to come from somewhere deep in his chest.
He opened his eyes, and there was a mixture of awe and torment in them.
A smirk touched his lips, but it was strained, trembling at the edges.
She met his gaze, her voice small.
She didn't wait for an answer. She looked at him really looked and saw a man transformed.
All those red veins stood out like angry rivers on his skin, from his forehead down his neck, across his arms.
His breaths came in heavy, desperate pants. And her pallu was tangled around him, binding him, making him look trapped and wild at once.
A strange power surged through her. So this is how it works. I am doing right, Mr. Pati ji.
She smirked, though her insides were quaking. "Ummm... it's how this works, so I am doing right, Mr. Pati ji?"
Then she held it tightly.
"Ahhhhhh! Kitten, do you want our babies to die, baby?!"
The words tore from him, half plea, half protest. His hips bucked into her grip, seeking more even as his voice begged for mercy.
Devyani's confidence wavered. "Am I doing wrongly?"
But Rivan didn't hear her.
He was lost in a world of sensation, his head thrown back, his hands fisting in the fabric of her kurti.
He was a man drowning, and every stroke of her hand pushed him deeper.
She loosened her grip, trying to be gentle.
She started stroking him slowly at first, unsure of the rhythm, her hand moving up and down the length of him.
The skin was soft and hot, sliding easily in her grip as she found a natural pace.
His moans filled the night. "Ahhhhh..."
This was his first time.
The realization struck her even as her hand moved.
First time someone is holding his cock.
First time someone is touching him like this.
Of course it was new to him every sound, every shudder, every ragged breath was uncharted territory.
He was experiencing pleasure for the first time in someone else's hands.
He tried to pry her hand away, but his own palm was clenched tight, the fingers locked in a fist he couldn't unfurl.
"Kitte, open this," he begged, his voice cracking.
"Nope," she whispered, and she meant it.
She increased her pace, her hand moving faster, the friction building. The sound of it wet and intimate filled the space between them.
Rivan hissed through his teeth, the air escaping him in a sharp, jagged stream. He gulped, his Adam's apple bobbing wildly.
But Devyani didn't move. She couldn't. Not because she was defiant, but because she didn't know how to stop.
Her hand had a rhythm now, a purpose. She watched his face the way his eyes rolled back, the way his lips parted, the way his entire body tensed and released with each stroke.
He was panting, heaven-sent sounds leaving his lips with every breath. His hands clawed at the ground, at her clothes, at anything solid to anchor himself.
And then, with a final, desperate effort, he freed his hand from the tangle of her pallu.
In one swift motion, the world flipped.
Devyani was on her back, the hard earth pressing into her spine, and Rivan was above her, his weight a magnificent, terrifying pressure. Her eyes widened, her breath stolen.
He looked down at her, chest heaving, eyes burning with a hunger that made her forget everything the road, the risk, the trembling in her own hands.
"Now," he rasped, "it's my turn, little queen."
His hand moved to the clasp of her bra, and with a flick of his wrist, it came undone.
The fabric loosened around her, and she felt the cool air kiss her skin through the thin kurti.
She tried a sarcastic remark, her voice shaky. "Pati ji, it's the middle of the road."
But he was past hearing.
Past caring. He was on the urge the edge of a storm that had been building since the moment her fingers first brushed against him.
His lips crashed into hers, and the world dissolved.
This kiss was nothing like the tentative brushes they had shared before.
This was a collision.
A devouring.
His mouth claimed hers with a force that left her dizzy, his tongue pushing past her lips without preamble, plunging deep, tasting every corner of her mouth as if he was memorizing her flavor.
Devyani's hands flew to his shoulders, her fingers digging into the taut muscles as she tried to hold on.
His weight pressed her into the ground, the gravel biting through the fabric of her kurti, but she didn't feel pain only the fire of his mouth on hers.
He kissed her like a man possessed.
His lips moved with a frantic rhythm, sucking her lower lip between his teeth, biting just hard enough to make her gasp before soothing the sting with his tongue.
He tilted her head back, changing the angle, and his tongue swept deeper, exploring, claiming, plundering.
She whimpered against his lips, and he swallowed the sound, pulling her closer, his hand tangling in her hair, tilting her head just the way he wanted.
He broke the kiss only to trail his lips down her jaw, her throat, the hollow where her pulse raced against his tongue.
She felt his smile against her skin as he sucked a mark into the curve of her neck.
"You taste like sin," he murmured, his voice thick with desire. "And I'm going to savor every drop."
His mouth continued its descent, leaving a trail of fire across her collarbone, down the swell of her breast.
"Were you this nervous when you touched me?" he asked, his lips brushing the thin cotton. "When your hand was on my cock, were you trembling like this?"
She could only nod, her words lost in the haze of sensation.
The nipple tightened instantly, pebbling under his gaze. He looked at her really looked his eyes dark with hunger.
"Good," he said. "Because now you're going to tremble for a different reason."
And then his mouth closed over her nipple, and Devyani lost all ability to think.
He didn't start gently. He took her breast deep into his mouth, sucking hard, drawing the sensitive peak against his tongue with an intensity that made her cry out.
His hand came up to cup the other breast, squeezing and kneading, rolling the nipple between his fingers as he feasted on the first.
He licked and sucked and bit, alternating between tender caresses and sharp nips that sent jolts of pleasure-pain straight to her core.
He worshiped each breast with a devotion that bordered on obsession, his mouth never still, his tongue tracing circles, patterns, promises on her skin.
"This is what you wanted, isn't it?" he growled against her skin. "Me like this. Hungry. Desperate. Fucking starving for you."
He took her nipple between his teeth and tugged, watching her face contort with a mixture of shock and pleasure.
Then he soothed the sting with his tongue, laving her until she was moaning, her hips grinding against him.
"You drive me insane, Devyani," he said, his voice breaking. "You have no idea what you do to me."
His mouth descended again, and he ate her breasts like a man who had been starved for years.
He licked the undersides, sucked the peaks, bit the soft flesh until her skin was marked with his passion.
He moved from one to the other, giving each equal attention, his hands never stopping, always touching, always claiming.
Devyani's hands fisted in his hair, pulling him closer, her body arching into his mouth.
She was lost completely, utterly lost in the feeling of his lips, his tongue, his breath on her skin.
"Please what, baby?" He lifted his head, his lips wet and swollen, his eyes dark as midnight. "Tell me what you need."
But she couldn't find the words. She could only pull him down, her mouth seeking his, kissing him with a hunger that matched his own, tasting herself on his lips as he deepened the kiss once more.
The road was forgotten. The world was forgotten. There was only this only him, only her, and the fire that consumed them both.
And his mouth kept moving, kept devouring, kept driving her higher, until she was but a collection of moans and sighs, trembling beneath him, utterly undone.