[10] CONTROL
Mature chapter so be aware.18+.
Moonlight dripped through the jali,
liquid silver pooling on the sheets,
on her skin.
Abhiraj's eyes burned in the dark,
fixed on her.
Two hand-spans.
Close enough to taste her breath,
soft,
warm,
sweet with cherry balm and sleep.
But it felt like oceans.
He ached.
Every muscle taut,
veins pulsing under skin.
He wanted her pressed against him,
her softness melting into his hardness,
her pulse syncing with his.
She shifted,
a slow, unconscious roll,
gagra sliding up her thigh,
revealing a sliver of creamy skin.
Anklets whispered,
chhan-chhan,
a siren's call.
He swallowed,
throat raw.
If I pull... she'll wake.
If I touch... she might tense.
Not yet.
Not until she begs.
Or until I break.
His hand hovered,
fingers trembling with restraint,
like a man starving before a feast.
She rolled again,
facing him,
lips parted,
breath ghosting his collarbone.
Her kurta had ridden up,
exposing the gentle curve of her waist,
kamarband glinting like a secret.
Now.
He nudged,
a calculated press of his palm into the mattress,
a ripple,
a tide.
She rolled,
fluid,
helpless in sleep,
straight into his fire.
Thump.
Her body collided with his,
soft breasts against his chest,
hips slotting into his,
one leg draping over his thigh.
Her head nestled under his chin,
hair spilling like ink across his skin.
His arms snapped around her,
one sliding under her shoulders,
hand splaying between her shoulder blades,
the other clamping her waist,
fingers digging into the dip above her hip,
kamarband biting into his palm.
Mine.
Her warmth seared him,
skin to skin where the kurta had shifted,
her bare midriff pressed to his abs.
Her scent,
jasmine,
sweat,
her,
flooded his lungs.
He buried his face in her hair,
silk tangling in his stubble,
inhaled,
deep,
ravenous,
until his chest burned.
A low growl rumbled in his throat.
I didn't pull you, moti.
You came to me.
She sighed,
a sleepy,
sensual sound,
nuzzled closer,
her lips brushing the hollow of his throat,
unaware of the storm she'd ignited.
His hand slid lower,
just an inch,
thumb tracing the curve where waist met hip,
feeling the shiver that rippled through her even in sleep.
He smirked into her hair,
dark,
possessive.
The moon watched.
The night held its breath.
And he held her,
tight,
sensual,
on the edge of control,
until dawn.
Abhiraj's arm stayed locked around her waist,
thumb tracing idle circles on the kamarband's edge.
His eyes,
wide open,
drank her in.
I missed you.
Nine years.
Every breath, every heartbeat, every night.
Her chest rose and fell,
slow,
rhythmic,
kurta stretching with each inhale,
soft mounds pressing into him.
Eyes closed,
long lashes fanned across her cheeks like dark feathers.
One cheek squished into the pillow,
pouty,
chubby,
irresistible.
Lips parted,
glossy even in sleep,
breathing soft puffs against his collarbone.
She shifted,
a sleepy kick,
small foot nudging his thigh,
then draping her leg over his,
calf warm,
anklet cool against his skin.
He thought in his mind.abhi gussa nikal rahi ho kya pure 9 sal ka.
The gagra had ridden up,
bunched at her thigh,
revealing milky skin,
glowing like moonlit marble,
soft,
smooth,
begging to be touched.
Her waist,
bare where the kurta had twisted,
curved gently,
a faint, feminine swell,
far-
not childish,
womanly,
with a slight, perfect tummy that rose and fell under his gaze.
His fingers flexed,
itching to trace that curve,
to feel the warmth of her skin,
to memorize every inch he'd missed.
He didn't move.
Just watched,
heart pounding,
I missed this.
You.
All of you.
She sighed in her sleep,
nuzzled closer,
lips brushing his neck,
unaware of the fire she stoked.
He smirked,
dark,
possessive,
and held her tighter,
moonlight painting them in silver,
nine years dissolving
in the heat of her breath.
Abhiraj's eyes burned,
dark,
predatory.
His hand rose,
slow,
a thief in the night,
fingers trembling with hunger.
It hovered over her thigh,
then descended,
brushing the gagra's edge,
fabric cool,
her skin scorching.
He gathered the chiffon,
deliberate,
thumb grazing the inner curve of her thigh,
a feather-light stroke,
dark intent.
She stirred,
a low,
sleepy sound,
legs pressing together,
tight,
instinctive,
her calf clamping over his thigh,
anklet biting his skin.
Her breath hitched,
just once,
a shiver rippling through her,
even in dreams.
He paused,
watching her face,
lashes trembling,
lips parted,
wet with balm,
cheeks flushed.
No wake.
He eased the gagra down,
slow,
covering the milky skin,
smoothing it to her ankles,
modest again.
His hand didn't stop.
It slid upward,
settled on her bare waist,
big,
spanning the soft swell,
fingers digging into the slight tummy,
kamarband cold against his wrist.
Warm.
Soft.
Responsive.
Her body arched,
just a fraction,
unconscious,
pressing into his palm.
He pulled her closer,
chest to chest,
chin atop her head,
hair silk against his stubble.
A dark smirk,
Sleep, moti.
His eyes closed.
Hand stayed on her waist,
claiming,
possessive,
peaceful.
The moon watched.
They slept,
finally,
whole,
in the dark.
Dawn bled through the jali,
molten gold licking the walls,
caressing the ivory sheets in slow, sensual strokes.
Abhiraj's lashes lifted,
heavy,
hazel eyes drinking in the light.
His arms-
empty.
But the blanket on her side pulsed with her heat,
a lingering imprint of jasmine,
warm skin,
her.
His gaze snapped to the almirah corner.
Amisha.
Brown satin saree clung to her like liquid sin,
loosely draped,
sliding over the swell of her hips,
teasing the dip of her waist,
barely holding on.
She hadn't seen him.
Her blouse-
black,
unhooked,
hanging open at the back,
strings dangling like an invitation,
revealing the delicate beige band of her bra,
tight against creamy,
flawless skin,
a faint shadow of her spine begging to be traced.
Wet hair poured over one shoulder,
black silk,
heavy with water,
droplets trailing down her collarbone,
slipping into the valley between her breasts,
glistening like diamonds on satin.
She lifted the saree,
slow,
hips rolling,
pleats tucked with deliberate grace,
the fabric whispering over her thighs,
clinging,
releasing.
Then she turned.
He slammed his eyes shut,
pulse roaring,
Fuck.
Every morning? This?
Anklets chimed,
soft,
seductive,
drawing closer.
He cracked one eye.
Mirror.
She stood,
comb gliding through wet strands,
parting them with slow,
hypnotic strokes,
exposing the nape of her neck,
vulnerable,
his.
Then-
lip-balm.
Cherry.
She pressed it to her lips,
slow,
pouty,
full,
glossy,
pink,
swollen from sleep,
parted just enough to hint at the heat within.
His blood surged.
He sat up,
sheets sliding down his bare chest,
and moved.
Fast.
Snatched a cushion,
slammed it over his lap.
Mountains.
Joggers strained,
hard,
throbbing,
her fault.
She turned,
voice soft,
unaware.
"Uth gaye?"
He forced a grin,
voice gravel.
"Jaldi naha lijiye. Breakfast thodi der mein ready hoga."
Stood,
cushion clutched like a lifeline,
turned,
strode to bathroom
back rigid,
smirk burning,
already addicted
to tomorrow's dawn.
The door sealed with a soft click.
Steam curled, cedar thick in the air.
Abhiraj's spine hit the wall, breath ragged, chest heaving like he'd run miles.
His gaze dropped.
Joggers clung, soaked, stretched over eight inches of rock-hard heat, thick, veiny, pulsing with every heartbeat.
He cranked the shower.
Ice water exploded, biting his skin, sluicing over broad shoulders, carving paths down ridged abs, hissing at his feet.
Cold did nothing.
Her.
Wet hair, black silk, dripping down her spine.
Bronze satin slipping, teasing hips.
Beige bra band, tight against creamy skin.
Glossy lips, parted, cherry-sweet.
His hand moved.
Fingers wrapped around his cock,
hard as stone,
throbbing under his grip.
Slow.
Up.
Down.
Water slicking his knuckles,
veins bulging,
heat building.
Her name tore free.
"Amisha..."
Low, dark, a growl swallowed by the spray.
Speed increased.
Hand pumping,
fast,
relentless,
water and sweat mixing,
muscles tensing,
hips jerking.
Her curves.
Her waist.
Her breath in his ear last night.
Chest burned.
Not just want.
Nine years.
Regret.
Longing.
He came,
hard,
body convulsing,
a raw moan lost in the roar,
seed spilling,
spiraling down.
Forehead to tile,
water pounding,
steam wrapping him like her scent.
Voice a whisper,
raw,
"You have so much effect over me... and I like that."
Abhiraj descended the stairs,
black suit tailored sharp,
crisp,top three shirt buttons undone,
revealing the strong column of his throat,Rolex glinting on his wrist.Hair still damp,pushed back,
a faint cedar scent trailing him.
He entered the dining hall,
voice warm,
"Good morning, Ma. Dadi. Sabko."
Nods, smiles,
Dadi's hand on his cheek,
Minakshi's proud eyes.
Megha and Amisha emerged from thekitchen,steel thalis steaming.
Amisha-brown satin saree nowperfectly draped,pallu pinned,
kamarband catching light,
cheeks flushed from the stove's heat,
lips still glossy.
She served poha,then paratha,
avoiding his gaze.
He took his seat,spoon in hand,
but his eyes stayed on her.
Every move she made-bending to place a bowl,saree shifting over her hips,wet hair now in a loose bun,
tendrils framing her neck-
hit him like a replay.
Minutes ago.Her image in the shower,satin slipping,beige bra,glossy lips.
His hand,stroking,her name on his tongue.
A smirk tugged his lips,hidden behind a sip of lassi.
She glanced up,caught it,blushed,
looked away fast.
He ate,
slow,
savoring more than breakfast,
thinking:
You have no idea, moti...
...what you do to me.
Plates scraped clean,
steel bowls empty,
the scent of ghee and jeera lingering.
Satish pushed back his chair.
"Chalo, Megha, main chhod deta hoon."
Mihir grinned,
eyes on Amisha.
"Chaliye, Bhabhi Maa, main aapko chhod deta hoon."
Amisha's lips curved,knowing,
Karishma ka chakkar.
Abhiraj set his lassi glass down,voice calm,final.
"Main chhod deta hoon Amisha ko."
Heads turned.Minakshi nodded,Dadi smiled,Mihir's face fell immidatly comically.
Amisha patted Mihir's shoulder,
teasing
"Next time, chhote."
She glided out,brown satin saree shimmering,Abhiraj a step behind,
black suit cutting a sharp shadow.
The Rolls-Royce gleamed under the neem.
He opened the door for her,hand steady.She slid in,saree pooling like bronze liquid,kamarband flashing.
He took the wheel,engine purring.Small talk-weather,Dadi's health,her new class.Her voice,soft,melodic,stirred him.
Karishma leaned against the gate,
cream dupatta fluttering.
Her eyes widened at the car.
"Yeh kaun hai?"
Amisha stepped out,smile proud.
"Pati hai mere."
Pati.
The word hit him like sunlight,chestswelling,pride.Karishma grinned,mischievous.
"Aapko pata hai, aapko Mr. Khanna se milna chahiye-woh aapki biwi pe line maarte hain-"
Amisha cut her off,
sharp,
grabbing her arm.
"Hum jaate hain ab!"
Dragged Karishma inside,saree swishing,anklets chiming protest.
Karishma called back,laughing.
"Please, ek baar Mr. Khanna se milna!"
They vanished through the gate.Abhiraj stood by the car,brow furrowed,confused.Mr. KhannaFriend? Colleague?Line maarte hain?
His jaw tightened,a flicker of possession.
He slid back into the car,smirking despite himself.
We'll see about that.