[81]
Amisha set the comb down on the dressing table with a soft clink, her half-wet hair now smooth and falling in loose waves down her back.
The strands still dripped occasionally, leaving tiny dark spots on her shoulders and the black lace that clung to her skin like a second layer.
She glanced at her reflection one last time-lips slightly parted, cheeks still flushed from the shower-then stood up and walked toward the bed.
Abhiraj hadn't moved from his spot on the mattress.
He was propped on one elbow, face resting in his hand, eyes following her every step.
The bulge in his lowers was still there-unmistakable, straining against the fabric-but he made no move to adjust or hide it.
His gaze was heavy, dark, filled with that quiet hunger he reserved only for her.
The room felt warmer, the air thicker, as if the space between them was pulling taut like a bowstring.
She reached the bed, about to slide onto it, when a soft sound came from outside.
Pat... pat...
Then louder.
Pat pat pat...
Rain.
The first rain of the season.
Amisha's eyes brightened instantly.
She whipped around toward the open balcony doors, where the curtains fluttered slightly in the breeze.
"Barish..."
Her voice was a whisper of delight.
She ran to the balcony without thinking-bare feet padding on the cool marble floor, wet hair swinging behind her.
The night sky had darkened, but the half-moon peeked through scattered clouds, casting a silvery glow over the haveli courtyard below.
The rain started slow-big, fat drops splattering on the stone railing, the leaves of the potted plants, the ground.
Then it picked up-chat chat chat-full speed, a sudden downpour that turned the air cool and electric.
Amisha stepped out onto the balcony, lace nighty fluttering in the wind, rain kissing her skin.
Abhiraj sat up slowly on the bed.
His eyes went wide.
"Amisha... andar aa jao!"
He stood, hands in his pockets, still hard, voice a mix of shock and concern.
"Pehli barish hai is season ki... bimaar ho jaogi."
She turned to him, face lit up like a child's, rain already dampening her hair and the lace.
"Kuch nahi hota... aap aa jao!"
He shook his head, staying at the door, leaning against the frame.
"Nahi."
But he watched her anyway.
The rain soaked her quickly.
The black lace turned transparent-clinging to her curves like a second skin, leaving nothing to the imagination.
The straps stuck to her shoulders, the cups to her breasts, the panty to her hips.
Water trailed down her body in rivulets-over her collarbone, between her breasts, down her stomach, over her thighs.
Abhiraj's breath caught.
He took a deep, controlled inhale.
Down below, servants were running for cover-sudden rain catching them off guard, laughter and shouts echoing as they dashed under awnings.
But Abhiraj realized-anyone looking up from the courtyard would see her.
All of her.
He moved fast.
Crossed the room in two strides.
Reached the balcony.
Grabbed her wrist gently but firmly.
Dragged her into the shadowed corner-against the wall, where the rain still fell but no one from below could see.
He positioned himself in front of her-body blocking her completely, his back to the courtyard.
Amisha looked up at him, rain dripping from her hair, eyes sparkling.
"Pagal ho gaye ho kya?"
He stared down at her.
"Haan."
Rain had soaked him too now-shirtless chest glistening, lowers damp, hair sticking to his forehead.
He didn't care.
He reached down, hands sliding under her thighs.
Lifted her up in one smooth motion.
Her legs wrapped around his waist instinctively-thighs squeezing his sides, ankles locking behind his back.
She gasped softly at the contact-his hardness pressing against her through the thin fabric.
He carried her inside.
Not to the bed-too wet, and they still had to sleep there.
To the dressing table instead.
He set her down on the wooden surface-careful, but firm.
Her wet hair spread out behind her on the table, dark halo against the wood.
He stepped between her legs.
She didn't move them.
He looked at her-rain-soaked, lace glued to her body like transparent film.
Thought to himself:
Kach mein ye nighty hota...
He reached to the strings of nighty to remove and dragged it from her body.
Amisha spoke"na bola tha na kuchh karne ke liye."
Abhiraj took of upprepart whole and spoke with little smile "ha to me kha kuchh kar raha hu...I am just drying you."
And then moved to her panty and amisha spoke loocking at him"me khud bhi to kar sakti hu na..."
And he spoke while throwing both panty and night at corner of room"haa..kar to sakti ho but me karne nhi dunga..."
He reached for the towel on the chair.
Started at her face.
Wiped gently-first her eyes, holding her gaze the whole time, small smile on his lips.
Eyes to eyes.
Then her cheeks-slow circles.
Her mouth-thumb brushing her lower lip.
Her ears-hands sliding behind her neck, tilting her head slightly, thumb pressing lightly on her pulse point, feeling it race.
She stared at him, breath shallow.
He tilted her head back.
Wiped her neck-slow, deliberate, towel tracing the line of her throat.
Then shoulders-one, then the other.
Her arms-down to her hands, fingers interlacing briefly as he dried them.
Then... lower.
He looked at her.
She tilted her head-permission, challenge.
He moved the towel over her cleavage-gentle, careful, tracing the upper swells.
Then to her nipples-circling slowly.
Amisha's breath hitched.
He cupped one breast in his hand-full, heavy, wet lace sticking to it.
Moved it slightly to wipe underneath.
Then the sides.
The other breast-same slow attention.
Between them-towel dipping into the valley.
Amisha bit her lip, eyes half-lidded, but she held his gaze.
He leaned in closer-almost a hug-to wipe her back.
Gathered her wet hair over one shoulder.
Towel glided down her spine, over the curve of her waist.
Then front again-stomach, soft and warm under his touch.
Waist-fingers brushing her hips.
Until now, Amisha was red-flushed from the rain, from his hands, from the tension.
But her face stayed straight-defiant, teasing.
Abhiraj looked at her.
A big smile spread across his face.
He didn't say anything.
Just continued.
He took both her hands, placed them flat on the table behind her.
Bent her back slightly-so he could wipe her stomach properly.
Towel moved in slow circles.
Then... lower.
Near her pussy-upper part.
Abhiraj's hands slid down to her wrists.
He took both her hands gently but firmly and guided them to the table behind her-placing them a little farther apart so her upper body had to lean back, elbows locked, spine arched just enough.
She was almost lying on the table now, but not fully-half propped up on her arms, chest lifted, head tilted slightly back.
He stepped between her parted thighs.
His fingers hooked under her knees.
Parted her legs wider.
Slowly.
Deliberately.
Amisha's breath hitched.
He lifted one leg first-placed her foot flat on the table, bending her knee so her thigh opened even more.
Then the other.
Now she was fully exposed-legs bent, knees wide, feet on the table, hips tilted upward.
He took the towel again.
Wiped her thighs first-inner sides, slow strokes from knee to hip crease, cloth gliding over soft, warm skin.
Then he moved lower-calves, ankles, feet-drying every inch with careful attention.
He lifted her hips slightly-hands under her ass, thumbs brushing the undersides.
Wiped there too-round, soft curves, the cleft between.
Amisha's face turned tomato red.
She was almost fully lying back now-arms straight behind her, head hanging slightly off the table edge, wet hair fanning out.
Legs bent and spread wide.
Completely open to him.
He could see everything.
the way her body responded-wetness glistening between her thighs, not from rain anymore.
He saw it.he was the reason behind it and he likes that.afywr seeking her this muchh wet he loocked at her but she immediately looked at fan.macking him control his chuckle.
The way her clit peeked, swollen, flushed.
The slickness coating her folds.
But he didn't touch there.
Not yet.
He kept wiping-sides of her thighs, the crease where leg met hip, dangerously close but never crossing.
Then he straightened.
Moved the towel aside.
Walked to the almirah.
Took out her kurta and ghagra.
Came back.
Amisha's face fell slightly-disappointment flickering in her eyes.
He had stopped.
She was still wet there-aching, throbbing, untouched.
Abhiraj smirked-small, knowing, wicked.
He started dressing her.
First the kurta-sliding it over her head, arms through sleeves.
Then the ghagra-he pulled it up her legs, over her hips... but left it bunched around her waist.
Not pulled down fully.
Her lower half still bare.
He came closer.
Leaned in.
Tied the strings of the kurta at her waist-slowly, deliberately.
His hardness pressed against her through his lowers-rough, wet fabric rubbing right over her throbbing center.
Amisha moaned-soft, involuntary, head falling back.
He held her thighs-fingers digging in gently, spreading her wider.
His cock-still clothed-nudged exactly where she ached most.
He spoke low in her ear, voice rough.
"You look more innocent in this kurta than in that nighty..."
His thumb brushed the inside of her thigh-high, close.
She whimpered.
He kept the pressure-fabric sliding, teasing, rubbing her clit with every small movement.
"Understood now?"
She nodded-eyes glassy, lips parted.
He smiled against her ear.
"Good girl."