Adultery Between Nabila and Ranjeet

[Monikapu91]

Very good story

[Monikapu91]

Please update this story 
Anxiously waiting

[Monikapu91]

Please update the story

[naj0501]

The door clicked shut behind me, the sound swallowed by the cacophony of the Mumbai evening. For a moment, I just stood there, the city’s roar a deafening contrast to the ringing silence left by the fight. The humid air felt like my first breath of free air. Adnan whimpered against my shoulder, his small body trembling, and the reality of what I had just done crashed down.
With the heavy duffel bag slung over one shoulder and my son with me, I left the apartment that I had started hating much and went out onto the bustling street. The world was a blur of neon lights, honking horns, and a river of people that seemed to flow around us as if we were invisible. My cheek throbbed with a fiery, humiliating pain, a physical brand of my broken marriage.
“Mumma, where are we going?” Adnan whispered, his voice muffled against my neck.
“To Nani’s house, baba,” I murmured, trying to keep my voice steady. “We’re going to have a sleepover. It’s an adventure.”
A sob caught in my throat, but I swallowed it down. I must not fall apart. Not now. I hugged him tighter, stroking his hair. The journey felt both impossibly long and terrifyingly short until we finally arrived at Ammi’s building, my heart pounding a frantic rhythm against my ribs.
What would she say? Would I get a lecture? An "I told you so"? The woman who had grilled me about Ranjeet just the night before was the last person I wanted to face in my moment of utter defeat. But she was also my only refuge.
I took a deep, shuddering breath and pressed the doorbell.
Door opened a moment later. Ammi stood there, her expression shifting instantly as she took in the scene. Her eyes saw the duffel bag, my son’s sleepy, tear-stained face, and then lifted it to mine. The irritation on her face vanished, replaced by a sharp, horrified intake of breath. She didn't see a defiant daughter with a secret lover. She saw the angry, red handprint that was blooming violently on my cheek.
“Nabila,” she breathed, her voice a ghost of a sound.
Without another word, she pulled us inside, slamming the door shut. Her hands came up to frame my face, her thumb gently tracing the edge of the mark left by Asif’s hand. Her critical eyes were now filled with a fierce, protective fire.
“That animal,” she whispered, her voice trembling with a cold rage. “He did this to you?”
The dam inside me finally broke. A raw, guttural sob tore from my throat, and I collapsed into her arms as the full weight of my shattered life came crashing down. She held me tightly, rocking me gently as I cried, just as she had when I was a child. Adnan clung to us both, his own quiet sobs joining mine.
“Shhh, my dear,” Ammi murmured, her voice a steel blade wrapped in velvet.
I narrated the whole incident after I gathered myself wiping the tears from my cheeks. She listened to me sympathetically and said,
“You are home. You did the right thing. I swear on my life, he will never touch you or Bittu again.”
Then she offered us the food. I had no interest in food nor I felt hungry so I gently denied.
After she had settled a sleeping Adnan into bed with warm milk, Ammi led me to the living room. She sat me down and gently began to press a cold compress against my swollen cheek. She then returned from the kitchen with two steaming cups of chai.
“You are not going back, Nabila,” she said. It wasn't a question. It was a declaration.
I shook my head, my throat too tight to speak.
“This is our home. His power ends at that door,” she continued, her voice filled with a cold fury. “Tomorrow, we will find a lawyer. We will handle this the right way. You will not be weak. You will be a lioness for your son.”
Just as she spoke, a harsh buzz shattered the quiet. My phone, lying on the sofa, lit up with a name that made my blood run cold: Asif.
“Do not answer,” Ammi commanded, her eyes like flint. “He has lost that privilege.”
With a trembling hand, I silenced the call and turned the phone off. The silence that returned felt heavier, but also safer. A while later, needing to feel connected to a world beyond these four walls, I switched it back on, keeping it on silent. The screen lit up with a dozen missed calls from Asif and vicious texts I refused to open. And then, at the very top, a WhatsApp message from Ranjeet.
Ranjeet: Can’t stop thinking about that picture, my wildfire. Are you thinking of me? I hope Asif’s return didn’t dim your glow. Let me know you’re okay.
His words, meant to be flirty, landed like a punch to my gut. Glow. The woman in that picture was a stranger to me now. My fingers hovered over the keyboard.
Nabila: Ranjeet, something’s happened. It’s bad. I can’t talk right now.
The reply was almost instantaneous, his tone shifting from playful to deeply concerned.
Ranjeet: Nabila? What is it? What happened? Are you hurt? Are you and Adnan safe? Tell me where you are.
Before I could reply, my phone vibrated with his call. On pure, unthinking instinct, I answered and walked to the small, enclosed balcony, shielding the conversation from my mother.
“Hello?” My voice was a reedy, broken thing.
“Nabila? Thank God,” his voice flooded the line, raw with fear. “Talk to me. What happened? Is everything alright?”
His panic was so genuine it pierced through my own shock. A sob escaped my lips. “Yes,” I choked out. “We had a fight. He hit me. I took Adnan and I left.”
There was a dead silence. Then I heard him take a sharp, ragged breath. When he spoke again, his voice was a low, terrifying growl. “That bastard. I’m going to kill him. Where are you? Nabila, tell me where you are. I’m coming to you right now.”
“No!” The word was out before I could stop it, sharp and panicked. “No, Ranjeet, you can’t. I’m safe. We’re safe. I’m at my mother’s house.”
“Your mother’s? Okay. I can be there in twenty minutes—”
“Ranjeet, please,” I begged, cutting him off. My world was already an inferno; adding him to the mix would be like adding gasoline. “It’s too much. It’s too complicated. My mother is here. I can’t explain it to you right now. I just can’t.”
He was silent for another long moment. “Okay,” he finally said, his voice strained. “Okay, Jaan. I won’t come. Not tonight. But you have to promise me something. You are not alone in this. Do you understand me? This doesn’t change us, Nabila. It just… makes us happen faster. I love you.”
The raw sincerity of his words was a comfort so profound it almost brought me to my knees. “I love you, too,” I whispered back.
“Get some rest,” he said softly. “We’ll face tomorrow together.”
We hung up. Emotionally drained, I walked back into the living room. Ammi was watching me, her expression sharp and probing.
“That was not Asif,” she stated. “Who was that, Nabila? Who is the man you call in the middle of your life’s worst crisis?”
I took a shaky breath. “ Ranjeet,” I said, my voice low but clear.
Ammi’s expression tightened. “Ohhho.”
“He’s more than a friend, Ammi,” I confessed. “He’s… he’s the reason I found the strength to stand up to Asif tonight. He reminded me of what it felt like to be respected.” I saw the fear and cultural disapproval flash in her eyes.
“You have just run from a burning house,” she said, her voice strained. “Are you telling me you are running straight into another fire?”
“No,” I said, pleading with her to understand. “He’s not a fire, Ammi. He’s the water. He just found out, on that call. He wanted to come here, right now. I told him no. I told him I had to handle this with my family first.”
That made her pause. Her sharp gaze searched my face, not for lies, but for the truth of my character. Finally, she let out a long, weary sigh.
“Your life is a mess, beta,” she said, her voice softer now. “First things first. We deal with Asif. That is our only battle right now.” She gave my hand a firm squeeze. “This… Ranjeet… I don’t want to hear about him right now. We will talk about him later. One battle at a time.”
It wasn’t an approval, but it wasn’t a rejection either. It was a truce.
“Now,” she said, her tone all practical command. “You and Adnan will sleep in your old room. It is safe there.” She took the phone from my hand. “And this stays with me tonight, switched off. No calls from Asif. No calls from… anyone. Tonight, you just rest.”
I nodded, surrendering completely to her care. I was bruised and heartbroken, but for the first time in a long, long time, I wasn’t alone.

The first light of next day morning was a clean slate. I woke slowly, the dull throb on my cheek a grim reminder that this new life had been born from violence. After quietly getting dressed, I faced my reflection. An ugly, purplish bruise was blooming on my cheek. Staring at it, I felt a cold, hard rage solidify in my gut. This was the proof. This was the end.
Ammi was a fortress of calm, and we ate breakfast in a quiet solidarity. Just as we were finishing, the shrill ring of the landline cut through the quiet. Ammi’s back went rigid. She walked over and picked up the receiver.
“Hello?” she said. There was a pause. Her expression hardened. “Your son is not my concern right now. Nabila and Bittu are with me. They are safe.” She listened, her lips pressed into a thin, angry line. I could hear the tinny, agitated voice of Asif’s mother.
“Shame?” Ammi’s voice was dangerously low. “You want to speak of shame? Let us speak of the shame of a man who raises his hand against his wife. My daughter did not ‘run away.’ She fled for her life, and she came home.”
Another pause. I held my breath.
“No,” Ammi said, her voice like ice. “The time for discussion in your house is over. Now you will listen to me. If your son wants his wife back, he will come to this door. He will stand before us and apologize. He will promise me that he will never lay a hand on her again. Those are my terms.”
She held the phone away from her ear, and I could hear my mother-in-law’s shrieking replaced by Asif’s arrogant, booming voice. Ammi listened for a moment longer, her face impassive.
“I see,” she said finally. She hung up the phone, the definitive click echoing in the silent room. She turned to me, her eyes blazing. “He refuses. He says you left willingly, so you must come back by yourself. That coward.”
A wave of dizzying relief washed over me. He had been given a chance to show an ounce of remorse, and he had spat on it.
“I’m not going back, Ammi,” I said, my own voice surprisingly strong. “Not ever.”
A slow, proud smile spread across Ammi’s face, and she pulled me into a fierce hug. “It's alright."
She released me and sat beside me on the sofa, her gesture one of alliance. “I was awake all night,” she began, her voice low and serious. “I was thinking and thinking. Nabila, if we are to fight this war, I cannot be blind. I need you to tell me everything. No more secrets.”
I knew what she was asking.
“This Ranjeet,” she continued. “It is serious, isn't it?”
I could only nod.
“How serious?” she pressed gently. “I am your mother. I am on your side. But I need the whole truth, Nabila. Be honest please.”
Finally the moment of truth had come.There could be no more secrets.
“It’s… very serious, Ammi,” I whispered, my cheeks burning.
“How far have you gone?” She asked.
“We have done everything” I replied to her shyly.
The silence that followed was absolute. I risked a glance at her. Ammi had closed her eyes, her face a mask of profound pain. When she opened them, they were swimming with tears.
“Oh, Nabila… what have you done?” her voice was a ragged whisper.
“Do you understand what this means? Do you understand the weapon you have just handed them?” Her voice grew stronger, fueled by a rising, terrified anger. “He will call you an adulteress! An unfit mother! He will use this to take Adnan away from you, Nabila! Are you stupid ?!”
Her voice felt like it was choking me. “No one knows, Ammi,” I said desperately.
“It's not gonna be hidden forever. What will people say? ” she countered.
She looked at me, her daughter, the source of her deepest love and her greatest fears. The disappointment was still etched on her face.
“He loves me and I love him. I don't care about people. Let them talk whatever they like” I shot back.
“Whatever it is. It's not good. I'm not happy.” She replied firmly.
“Ammi,I'm happy. Won't you be happy if I'm happy ?” I tried to calm her down.
“ It's not like that,” She said.
“ Then ?” I asked.
“Leave it for now.What is done is done,” she said, her voice heavy but firm.
“ But Nabila, do think about your son before doing anything stupid” she added standing up. She then went to her bedroom, leaving me alone sitting on the couch, confused, guilty and thinking what to do.

[naj0501]

The weight of Ammi’s words stayed in the room like a cloudy storm. What have you done, Nabila? Her question echoed in my mind, each word a sharp reminder of the risks I’d taken. Adulteress. Unfit mother. The words stung, not because they were true, but because they could be wielded as weapons in a conservative society that judged women so harshly. Alone, I curled up on the couch. I can’t lose Adnan. I won’t. But Ranjeet… he’s the only thing keeping me sane right now. I needed space to think, to breathe, to piece together the fragments of my life.
The next morning, I called Priya from HR. My voice was steady, but my hands trembled as I spoke. “I need two days off,” I said, citing health issues. It wasn’t entirely a lie-the bruise on my cheek was a glaring truth, and the exhaustion in my bones was real. I just need time to hide, to heal, to figure out what comes next. She was sympathetic, granting the leave without question. I hung up, grateful for the small mercy.
For two days, I stayed put in Ammi’s flat. Adnan’s laughter as he played with his old toys was a balm, grounding me in the present. Ammi was a quiet fortress, cooking meals and fussing over us without pressing for more answers. My phone buzzed incessantly with Asif’s calls and texts, each one a fresh stab of anger and fear. He thinks he can bully me back into that cage. I ignored every call, every message, until finally, I typed a single reply: Stop bothering me. I’m done. After that, I muted his number, letting the silence be my shield.
Ranjeet, though, was different. His messages came sparingly, gentle and concerned, never pushing too hard. Nabila, just checking in. Are you okay? or Thinking of you and Adnan. Let me know when you’re ready to talk. Each one felt like a lifeline, pulling me back from the edge. Late at night, when Ammi and Adnan were asleep, I’d slip out to the balcony, the Mumbai skyline a glittering chaos below. The cool night air brushed against my skin, and I’d dial Ranjeet’s number, keeping my voice low. He’s not Asif. He listens. He cares.
“Jaan?” His voice answered on the first ring, soft but urgent, like he’d been waiting by the phone. “You okay?”
I leaned against the railing, clutching the phone tighter. “I’m okay,” I whispered, though my voice cracked. Am I? I don’t even know anymore. “Just… needed to hear you.”
There was a pause, and I could almost hear him exhale, like he was steadying himself. “I’m right here, Nabila. Always. You don’t have to go through this alone.”
The words wrapped around me like a warm blanket, soothing the raw edges of my heart. “It’s so hard, Ranjeet,” I admitted, my voice barely audible. “Ammi knows about us now. She’s… she’s not happy. She thinks I’ve ruined everything.”
“Hey, hey,” he soothed, his tone gentle but firm. “You haven’t ruined anything. You’re protecting yourself, protecting Adnan. That’s what matters. Your Ammi… she’s just scared for you. Give her time.”
He’s right, but it doesn’t make it hurt less. I swallowed hard, the bruise on my cheek throbbing faintly. “She said Asif could use us to take Adnan away. I’m so scared, Ranjeet. I can’t lose him.”
“You won’t,” he said fiercely, his voice low but unwavering. “I won’t let that happen. We’ll figure this out together, okay? Step by step. You’re not fighting this alone.”
Together. The word felt like a promise, a lifeline in the storm. I closed my eyes, letting his certainty anchor me. “I don’t know what I’d do without you,” I whispered. “You make me feel… like I’m worth something again.”
“Nabila,” he said, his voice softening to something almost reverent. “You’re worth everything. You’re the strongest woman I know. What you did,that’s courage. Don’t ever forget that.”
A tear slipped down my cheek, but it wasn’t from pain. It was relief, the kind that comes from being seen. He sees me, not just the mess I’ve made. “Thank you,” I murmured. “For being you. For… not giving up on me.”
“Never,” he said, and I could hear the smile in his voice. “You’re stuck with me, wildfire. Get some rest, okay? We’ll talk tomorrow. I’m not going anywhere.”
“Goodnight, Ranjeet,” I said, my voice steadier now.
“Goodnight, Jaan.”
I hung up, the silence of the night settling around me. Those brief conversations were my anchor, reminding me that I wasn’t alone. He’s my safe place. And right now, that’s enough.
After two days, the bruise on my cheek had completely healed, leaving no trace of Asif’s violence. I stood before the mirror in my old bedroom, studying my reflection. The woman staring back was not the broken figure I feared seeing-she was confident, courageous, her eyes blazing with a spark of defiance. I can’t hide forever. I have to face the world. I chose my outfit carefully, wanting to embody the strength I felt rising within me. I slipped into a vibrant maroon kurti with intricate silver embroidery along the hem and sleeves, its flowing silhouette both elegant and commanding. Paired with white leggings that hugged my legs comfortably. I dbangd a sheer maroon dupatta loosely over the shoulders, its delicate shimmer catching the light. Small silver hoop earrings gleamed against my skin, and I tied my hair elegantly into a sleek, high bun.
Returning to work felt like stepping onto a tightrope. The office was a familiar chaos of ringing phones and clacking keyboards, but every glance from a colleague felt like scrutiny. Do they know? Can they sense the storm I’m carrying? I pushed the paranoia down, smoothing my dupatta as I settled at my desk, letting the rhythm of work dull the edges of my anxiety.
Ranjeet was there, of course, sitting behind a giant table,in his glassed cabin. He gently nodded at me when our eyes met. In front of others, he kept the professionalism-nodding politely, discussing campaign strategies with the same calm efficiency as always. He’s protecting me, I realized, grateful for his restraint. But during lunch, when we slipped away to the canteen, his demeanor softened. We sat at a corner table, away from prying eyes, and he leaned forward, his voice low and warm.
“How are you holding up, Nabila?” he asked, his eyes searching mine.
I managed a small smile. “Better. Ammi’s taking care of us. It’s… a lot, but I’m managing.”
He nodded, his fingers brushing mine briefly under the table. “You’re stronger than you know. I’m here, okay? Whenever you need me.”
But during lunch, when we slipped away to the canteen, his demeanor softened. We sat at a corner table, away from prying eyes, and he leaned forward, his voice low and warm.
“How are you holding up, Nabila?” he asked, his eyes searching mine.
I managed a small smile. “Better. Ammi’s taking care of us. It’s… a lot, but I’m managing.”
He nodded, his fingers brushing mine briefly under the table. “You’re stronger than you know. I’m here, okay? Whenever you need me.”
He means it. The thought warmed me, loosening the knot in my chest. “Thanks, Ranjeet,” I said, stirring my coffee to avoid his gaze for a moment. “So, what’s the latest around here? I feel like I’ve been gone for ages.”
He grinned, leaning back in his chair. “Oh, you missed some drama. You know Priya from HR? She’s convinced the new intern is spying for the rival firm. Swears she saw him taking photos of her spreadsheets.”
I laughed, the sound surprising me with its lightness. “Priya and her conspiracy theories. What’s next, corporate espionage over the photocopier?”
“Right?” He chuckled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “And don’t get me started on the coffee. I swear, they’re brewing it with decaf just to torture us.”
I wrinkled my nose, glancing at my cup. “This stuff is awful. Tastes like burnt socks. Why do we even drink it?”
“Because it’s free,” he said with a playful wink. “And because it gives us an excuse to sit here and talk.”
I felt a flush creep up my cheeks, but I met his gaze, emboldened. “Is that so? And here I thought you just liked my sparkling company.”
“Oh, I do,” he said, his voice dropping to a teasing murmur. “Sparkling, fiery, the whole package. You’re making it hard to focus on those campaign reports, you know.”
I rolled my eyes, but my heart fluttered. “Flatterer. You’re not so bad yourself, Mr. Smooth Talker.”
He leaned closer, his tone shifting to something softer, more intimate. “You know, Nabila, I was thinking… maybe we could get away for a bit. Just you and me. Somewhere quiet, away from all this noise. A proper evening, not just stolen moments like this.”
My pulse quickened, a mix of excitement and caution swirling in my chest. “An evening, huh?” I said, keeping my tone light but my eyes locked on his. “What kind of evening are we talking about, Ranjeet?”
He smiled, a slow, warm curve that made my stomach flip. “Nothing fancy. Maybe dinner, a walk by the sea at Bandstand. Somewhere we can just… be together. Talk without looking over our shoulders. What do you say?”
I wanted to say yes. But the weight of Ammi’s warnings tugged at me. “It sounds wonderful,” I admitted, my voice softening. “But… it’s complicated, Ranjeet. I can’t just… ”
His expression didn’t falter, his eyes still warm, understanding. “I know, Jaan. I’m not asking you to run away with me-not yet,” he added with a playful glint. “Just a few hours. When you’re ready. You deserve a moment to feel free, Nabila. To feel like you again.”
I swallowed, my fingers tightening around my cup. “Soon,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. “Give me a little time, okay?”
“Always,” he said, his hand brushing mine again, lingering just a moment longer. “I’ll wait as long as it takes.”
He leaned closer, his tone softening. “Seriously, though, Nabila. You look… different today. Stronger. Like you’re ready to take on the world.”
He sees it. He sees me. I swallowed, my smile softening. “I’m trying. One day at a time, right?”
“One day at a time,” he echoed, his gaze steady and sure. “And I’m with you for every one of them.”
For those few minutes, as we bantered and sipped terrible coffee, I felt almost normal again. The weight of the past didn’t vanish, but it felt lighter, like I could carry it without breaking.
The following week, life began to settle into a fragile routine. Asif’s calls and texts stopped after my message, his silence a victory I hadn’t dared hope for. Maybe he’s given up. Or maybe he’s plotting. The thought lingered, but I pushed it aside, focusing on Adnan and work. Ammi remained vigilant, her eyes sharp whenever the phone rang, but she didn’t bring up Ranjeet again.
Ranjeet and I fell into an easy rhythm at work, but the office was a minefield of politics and whispered alliances. The marketing team was buzzing with tension over who’d lead the next big campaign, with Priya from HR stirring the pot by hinting she’d overheard the boss favoring Ranjeet over Neha, who’d been gunning for the role. Whispers of favoritism and late-night meetings floated through the cubicles, and I could feel the weight of curious eyes whenever I passed by. They’re watching everyone, not just me. But it still feels like I’m under a microscope.
Ranjeet, though, was my safe harbor. Our conversations grew lighter, the tension between us easing like a slowly uncoiling spring. He slipped in casual flirtations, his eyes twinkling as he teased me about my choice of earrings or the way I organized my desk. “You’re too neat, Nabila,” he’d say with a grin, leaning over my desk during a quiet moment. “It’s unnatural?”
I’d roll my eyes, but my heart fluttered. “Someone has to keep things in order around here,” I shot back, nudging his arm playfully. I responded in kind, testing the waters with a coy smile or a teasing comment, our connection rebuilding in stolen moments-brushing hands in the corridor, sharing knowing glances during meetings.
But not everyone’s attention was welcome. Vikram from admin, with his slicked-back hair and overconfident swagger, came to my desk, his eyes lingering too long. As I was sorting through campaign drafts, he sauntered over, leaning against my cubicle with a grin that was all charm and no sincerity. “Nabila, you’re looking gorgeous today,” he said, his voice loud enough to draw a few glances. “ Fancy grabbing a coffee later? I know a great spot nearby.”
I kept my eyes on my papers, forcing a polite smile. “Thanks, Vikram, but I’m overloaded. Maybe another time.”
He didn’t take the hint, his grin widening. “Come on, you can’t work all the time. A break with me might do you good.” He winked, and I caught Priya smirking from across the room.
Before I could respond, Ranjeet appeared, his expression neutral but his eyes sharp. “Nabila, you ready to go over those ad copies? We need them by end of day.” His tone was professional, but the way he stood, close and protective, sent a clear message.
Vikram’s smile faltered. “Right, duty calls,” he said, backing off with a forced chuckle. “Catch you later, Nabila.”
Thank you, Ranjeet. I nodded, grateful for the save. “Let’s do it,” I said, grabbing my notes and following him to a quiet corner. Once we were alone, he dropped his voice, his teasing grin returning. “You okay? Vikram is chutiya no.1.”
I sighed, my shoulders relaxing. “yeah….He’s just annoying. Thanks for stepping in.”
“Anytime” he murmured, his fingers brushing mine briefly. “Can’t let anyone steal my favorite lunch partner.”
By the end of the week, the office felt less like a battlefield and more like a sanctuary. On Friday, after a long meeting, Ranjeet caught me alone in the break room, refilling my coffee. The door was closed, the hum of the office muffled. He stepped closer, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. “You look beautiful today, wildfire.”
The old nickname sent a shiver down my spine.I met his gaze, my pulse quickening. “You’re trouble, you know that?”
“The best kind,” he murmured, stepping closer still. The air between us crackled, heavy with unspoken longing. Before I could think, his hands cupped my face and he kissed me. It was fierce, hungry, a collision of need and relief. I kissed him back, my hands gripping his shirt, pulling him closer. The world fell away, leaving only the heat of his lips, the press of his body against mine.
We stumbled back against the counter, the kiss deepening, our breaths mingling in a desperate rhythm. His hands slid to my waist, and I felt a fire ignite inside me, a reclaiming of my own desire.For a moment, we were lost in each other, the office fading into irrelevance.
A distant laugh from the corridor snapped us back to reality. We pulled apart, breathless, our eyes locked in a shared understanding. “We can’t… not here,” I whispered, my voice shaky but firm.
He nodded, his thumb brushing my lip. “Soon, Jaan. Somewhere safe.”
I straightened my clothes, my heart still racing. What am I doing? This is reckless. But as I looked at him, his eyes full of love and restraint, I knew I wasn’t wrong to want this. I deserve this. I deserve him.
As I walked back to my desk, the weight of the past week felt lighter. Life wasn’t fixed, not by a long shot. Asif’s shadow still loomed, and Ammi’s disapproval hung over me like a storm waiting to break. But for the first time in years, I felt like I was moving forward, not just surviving.

[siva05]

Subtle glances and knowing grins are beauty. Keep going author. Thanks for your update.we're waiting to watch their togetherness officially

[naj0501]

Thank you for your kind comment. I'm just curious to know what you liked and disliked in the story. Also going to update the story tonight.

[siva05]

Sorry I don't have deep analysing skill. But I like very much the part in that she stood for herself and walk away from abusive husband ,politely confessed her feelings for ranjeet to her mom , And the way you wrote ranjeet's kind words & protectiveness towards nabila. That's all thank you author

[Monikapu91]

Nice story 
Nice narration 
Nice update

[Monikapu91]

Please update the story

[KGB]

Just superbly written update.

[The Pervert]

. Marvelous and fabulous update ❤️

[naj0501]

Thank you for the patience. I have finalised the next update and will post it around 5:30 pm today.

[naj0501]

The office buzzed with its usual chaos, but Ranjeet’s presence made it bearable. One day, as I was finalizing a campaign draft, my eyes burning from hours at the screen, he came to my desk, leaning against it with that familiar teasing grin. “Nabila, you’ve been glued to that screen all day. How about a coffee break? Somewhere better than the canteen’s burnt socks.”
I looked up, catching the playful glint in his eyes, my heart skipping a beat. “Coffee, huh?” I said, leaning back in my chair, my tone teasing. “What’s the catch, Ranjeet? Trying to dodge Priya’s latest conspiracy about you stealing the campaign lead?”
He chuckled, a low, warm sound that sent a shiver through me. “Caught me,” he said, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “But seriously, there’s a café down the street.Very nice coffee they make. Just you and me. What do you say?”
I wanted to but hesitated for a moment.
“Ohh…Come on yaar…It’s just a coffee.What’s there to think so much in it?” He said irritatingly.
“Ok…ok…fine.But I need to call Ammi first. She’ll have my head if I’m late without warning” I replied finally.
He nodded, his grin widening. “Alright. I’ll wait by the lift. Don’t keep me waiting too long.”
I walked towards the lift after signing off from work, my fingers trembling slightly as I dialed Ammi. “Ammi, I’ve got an unexpected meeting at work,” I said, keeping my voice light. “I’ll be a bit late coming home.”
“Ohhhh….How would it take?” She asked worriedly.
“Not much Ammi…May be around an hour…” I replied to her.
“Ok….try to hurry as much as possible….” She spoke before cutting the call.
I hung up, my resolve firming as I joined Ranjeet in the lift.
The café, a cozy nook in Bandra with exposed brick walls and soft jazz playing, felt like a sanctuary. We settled into a corner booth, the warm glow of a lantern casting shadows across Ranjeet’s face as he ordered us cappuccinos.
"You're absolutely radiant today," he murmured, his tone smooth as velvet, eyes set on me with that appreciative gaze. "This Salwar Kameez really suits you, Nabila. It just reminds me of the song- Tenu suit suit karda…..”
I giggled, the sound escaping before I could stop it, hearing him try to carry the tune. I instinctively adjusted my dupatta, glancing at the couple at the next table. "Ranjeet… please stop," I whispered, a laugh still bubbling in my voice. "People are watching us."
He leaned forward, a playful smirk on his lips, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial hum. "Let them watch. Let them see what a man looks like when he's sitting across from the most beautiful woman in the room. They're probably just jealous."
Our coffee arrived, and the barista gave us a knowing smile. I hid my own behind my cup, the warmth spreading through my fingers. "You're impossible," I said, but there was no heat in it. "And you're one to talk about causing a distraction."
"Me?" He feigned innocence, placing a hand on his chest.
"Yes, you," I teased. "Walking around the office with your sleeves rolled up just so. It's a public menace. Someone should file a complaint."
He laughed, a rich, genuine sound that made my heart flutter. His expression then softened into something more tender as his eyes lingered on the emerald green of my suit. "You know, my Anaya would love that colour on you. She's obsessed with anything that reminds her of a peacock."
The mention of his daughter was a familiar, intimate current between us. "How is she?" I asked, my voice softening too. "Did you speak to her today?"
"I did. Video call last night," he said, a familiar mix of love and longing in his voice. "She showed me a painting she did of the beach. It was good," he chuckled. "Her grandparents are spoiling her rotten, as usual. She's happy in Goa. But I miss her like crazy." He paused, his gaze becoming distant for a second.
He said it so simply, a statement of fact, a memory that existed alongside us without casting a shadow. It was one of the things I admired most about him-the way he carried his past with grace.
"It must be so different for you," he said, his focus returning entirely to me. "Having Adnan with you every day. I’m jealous, honestly. Even on the hard days."
"The hard days are most days right now," I confessed, the playful mood giving way to our reality. "I love having him, he's my whole world. But I feel like I'm holding that world in my hands, and it's made of glass. Ammi is constantly worried, watching my every move, terrified of what people will say, how it will affect him..."
"Forget people," he said, his voice firm, his hand covering mine on the table. The casual touch sent a jolt straight through me. "This is about you. About us."
"I don't even know what I want anymore," I confessed, my voice dropping to a whisper. "Except... this. These moments. Where I can just breathe."
"Then let's have more of them," he said, his thumb beginning to stroke my knuckles in a slow, hypnotic rhythm. "That's why I asked you here, Nabila.I just want to make love to you….want to worship that beautiful body…Let’s unite again."
His words hit the very core of my existence.
"An evening?" I whispered. "Well…I don't know ... .Can't say now ... .but suppose if it’s yes, then how?"
"My flat," he said, his voice low and urgent. "Come over after work. No parents, no pasts, just us. I'll cook for you. We will listen to music... I just want to be with you, properly. Without hiding. I want to hold you and not worry about anything or anyone in the world." He leaned in closer, his gaze intense. "I want to feel you in my arms again, Nabila. I need it. I need you."
We stayed in the café, talking about our lives-his childhood in Pune, my love for old Bollywood songs, the way we both dreamed of quieter days by the sea. The world outside faded, and for those moments, I felt free, alive.
I reached Ammi’s flat late, the clock ticking past dinner time. Ammi and Adnan were already at the table, plates piled with curry and chapati. Adnan’s face lit up as I walked in, his small arms reaching for me. “Mumma! You’re back!”
“Hey, baba,” I said, hugging him tightly, my heart swelling.Ammi’s eyes were sharp, questioning. “Traffic was awful,” I said quickly. “And the meeting ran long. Sorry.”
She nodded, but her gaze lingered. “Eat, Nabila. Adnan was waiting for you.”
As we ate, my phone buzzed with WhatsApp messages from Ranjeet. Decided yet, wildfire? I’m dreaming of tomorrow already. I glanced at Ammi, then typed a quick reply: Still thinking. I’ll let you know.
After dinner, as Adnan chattered about his day, I made my decision. I texted Ranjeet: Yes. Tomorrow. But I need to sort things with Ammi.
His reply was instant: You’ve made me the happiest man alive. I’ll leave early. Come to my flat after work. It’ll be perfect.
I turned to Ammi as she cleared the dishes, my voice steady. “Ammi, the company’s working on a big deal with some American clients. We’re swamped right now. Tomorrow, I’ll need to leave early in the morning and might be late coming home.”
Her eyes narrowed, but she didn’t argue. “American clients, huh? Just make sure you’re here for Bittu when he needs you.”
“I will,” I promised.
The next morning, I woke up with a plan to surprise Ranjeet. I left Ammi’s flat early, Adnan still asleep, and headed to a very well known shopping mall. My heart raced as I browsed a lingerie boutique, choosing a sleek, black silk nighty that felt daring, sensual-a secret weapon for the evening ahead.I tucked the purchase into my bag and headed to the office.
At work, I played my part carefully. When Ranjeet caught me by the printer, his eyes hopeful, I leaned close and whispered, “I can’t come to your flat tonight. Adnan’s not feeling well, so I need to leave early.”
His face fell, disappointment clear. “Oh. Okay, Jaan. Is he alright?”
“He’ll be fine,” I said, hiding my smile. “Just needs his mumma tonight.”
After work, I bypassed the usual route to the train station and instead took a cab towards the sea. The destination: The ******, Nariman Point. The name itself felt like an incantation, a password to another world. I’d booked a Premier Suite with an ocean view online the night before, my finger trembling over the ‘confirm’ button, my heart pounding a wild, exhilarating rhythm against my ribs.
Checking in felt like stepping into a new skin. The hushed, opulent lobby, with its gleaming marble and the faint, clean scent of lemongrass, was a world away from the cluttered reality of my life. The woman at the desk was discreet and professional, and for those few moments, I wasn't a runaway wife or a worried mother; I was a woman with a purpose, a secret, an adventure of her own making.
The suite door clicked shut behind me, and the sound was a definitive seal, locking the chaos of the world out. The first thing that struck me was the silence, followed by the breathtaking view. The room was a vast expanse of understated luxury, but the real masterpiece was the floor-to-ceiling window. It looked out over the majestic, endless grey of the Arabian Sea, and below, the iconic curve of the Queen’s Necklace was just beginning to glitter as the sun dipped towards the horizon. A king-sized bed, a mountain of soft, white pillows, stood like an invitation in the center of the room. This wasn't just a room; it was a stage.
My first act was to wash away the day. The bathroom was a temple of marble and glass. I turned the taps on, and hot, steaming water gushed into the deep, sunken tub.I poured in the hotel’s bath oil-sandalwood and rose, thick and intoxicating-watching it swirl into the water, turning it silky and fragrant. Slipping out of my clothes, I sank into the tub, the hot water enveloping me like a lover’s touch, kissing my skin from my collarbone to the curve of my hips. It teased my breasts, lapping at my nipples, sending shivers through me as I leaned back, letting the warmth melt the tension from my bones. I glided a loofah over my skin, slow and deliberate, savoring the slick sensation, my fingers brushing the sensitive skin of my inner thighs, lingering just long enough to stoke the fire building within me. The rose-scented steam curled around me, and for a moment, I closed my eyes, imagining hands that weren’t my own.
When I stepped out, the heated marble floor warmed my bare feet, and I wrapped myself in a robe so plush it felt like being caressed by clouds. Standing before the full-length mirror, my skin glowed from the bath, my eyes dark with anticipation. I reached for the black silk nighty I had bought on a reckless whim, its fabric cool and weightless in my hands. I let the robe fall, the air kissing my bare skin, raising goosebumps and tightening my nipples instantly.
As I slipped the nighty on, it poured over me like liquid midnight, clinging to every curve, the silk so light it felt like a whisper. The spaghetti straps rested delicately on my shoulders, the plunging neckline bared the swell of my breasts, where my pulse thrummed visibly. The hem skimmed around my knees, it fluttered with my every step, teasing my knees. I wore nothing beneath-no panties, no bra-just the silk’s sensual glide against my skin, the fabric catching on my hardened nipples, making them press boldly against the thin material. In the mirror, I saw a woman transformed: my warm, honeyed skin glowed against the black silk, my hips swaying as I turned, the nighty a second skin that both concealed and revealed, daring anyone to look closer.
I reached for my perfume, a French blend I had bought as a quiet act of defiance, its heavy glass bottle cool in my hands. I spritzed it, the dark tuberose, amber, and spice blooming on my skin like a secret unfolding. I applied it with care: a mist at the hollow of my throat, where my pulse hammered; a touch on my wrists, the skin soft and sensitive; and a bold spray along my inner thighs, where the warmth of my body turned the scent into something primal, intoxicating. The fragrance wove into the silk, mingling with my own heat, creating an aura that felt like a spell.
I paused for one final, practical act. From a hidden pocket in my handbag, I pulled a small box of lubricated extra thin condoms, their foil wrappers glinting in the soft light. I placed three on the bedside table, their presence grounding me, a reminder that I was in control, that this night was mine to shape. This wasn’t a fantasy-it was real, raw and deliberate.
In the mirror, I met the eyes of a stranger-confident, daring, her loose waves of hair framing a face alight with desire. My fingers were steady as I picked up my phone, the screen’s glow illuminating the certainty in my heart. I typed the message to Ranjeet, each word a spark igniting the night: The ******, Nariman Point. Suite 1402. Come now. Surprise. The two blue ticks flashed instantly, and my body hummed with the promise of what was to come, every nerve alive, ready.

A soft knock at the door snapped me out of my trance. My bare feet sank into the plush carpet as I glided across the room, the silk nighty whispering against my skin, my pulse points still warm with the perfume I applied.
I swung the door open, and there was him, my Ranjeet, with his dark eyes wide, practically sparkling with shock and mischief as they roamed over me. His usual cocky grin wobbled, replaced by a giddy, almost boyish smirk as he clocked the way the silk dipped low at my neckline, clinging to my hips and teasing my knees.
“Nabila,” he said, his voice a playful rumble, “You are a bad girl, aren’t you?”
He stepped inside, the door clicking shut, trapping us in this lush, private bubble. He was in dark jeans and a fitted black shirt that showed off his lean frame, but the way his shoulders bounced with barely-contained energy screamed he wasn’t ready for this. His eyes flicked to the suite-the plush bed, the condoms winking on the bedside table-then back to me, his grin widening as he noticed the silk betraying every curve, the faint outline of my nipples perked against the fabric.
“Surprise…” I purred.
“I liked it” he teased, his voice dripping with delight as he took a step closer, the air between us buzzing with playful heat.
I tilted my head, letting my hair spill over one shoulder, the jasmine of my perfume floating his way. His took a deep breathe, and then in a flickr of moment he was on me, pulling me into his arms with a laugh that echoed through the room.
His ragged breath, hot and tasting of the city and pure want, ghosted over my mouth for a fraction of a second before his lips crashed against mine. It wasn't a question, but an answer. The kiss was all heat and no hesitation, a raw, explosive release of the shock and awe that had been building in him. His lips were impossibly soft yet firm, demanding and worshipful all at once, molding to mine as if they were made to be there. For a second, I was just lost in the force of it, a sharp gasp of surrender my only response.
My body reacted before my mind did. My hands, which had been hanging uselessly at my sides, flew up to his chest, not to push him away, but to anchor myself to him, my fingers caught the collar of his shirt, feeling the frantic, hammering beat of his heart beneath my palm. I melted against him, my lips parting under his in a silent invitation he immediately accepted.
His tongue, hot and slick, traced the seam of my lips before sweeping inside, a bold, confident exploration that met my own in a tangled, desperate dance. It was velvet and fire, a claiming that sent a shiver straight down my spine. This was what I wanted. This was the prize.

[naj0501]

He groaned, a low, guttural sound in the back of his throat, and the kiss deepened. One of his hands, which had been cupping my jaw, slid around to the nape of my neck, his fingers tangling in my hair, tilting my head back. The gesture was pure possession. His other hand wasn't idle; it slid down my back, following the curve of my spine over the cool silk, finally splaying wide across my lower back, pressing me impossibly closer. I responded in kind, one of my hands leaving his chest to snake around his neck, pulling him down, losing myself completely in the intoxicating chaos of the kiss.
He pulled back, just an inch, both of us breathless. A low, incredulous chuckle rumbled in his chest, his eyes glinting with a heady mix of mischief and adoration.
"You're killing me, darling," he rasped, his forehead now resting against mine, his gaze locked on my swollen lips. His hands were already wandering, no longer holding me in place but exploring their new territory. One hand moved from my back to my waist, his thumb stroking my nighty clad waist.
"You look so hot in nighty,jaan?" he murmured, his fingers tracing the delicate strap on my shoulder.
"I’m going to fuck you hard my Nabli" His hand slid lower, down over my hip, the silk of the nighty felt like a second skin under his touch.
“Fuck me Ranjeet….” I replied, my hands holding his face gently.
His hands moved on my back and rested gently on the curve of my ass. He felt my bums with his hands moving in circular motion. Ranjeet’s grip on my ass tightened, his fingers sinking into the soft flesh with a possessive edge that sent my heart racing, a mix of heat and unease swirling in my chest.
He put his lips on mine and started smooching again.His breath was hot and ragged against my nose, his body pressed close. I could feel his hard cock ,through his pants, nudging insistently against me.
“Fuck, Nabila,” he growled, voice thick with raw desire, “this ass… it’s fucking perfect. You don't know how I feel whenever I see it darling. I just want to take it one day” His hands traced the curve beneath my nighty circling with a boldness that made my breath catch.
He grabbed my waist and started pushing me backward, step by step, in a clumsy, desperate reverse waltz toward the bed. My own steps were a blind surrender, my entire world tilting, focused only on the crushing pleasure of his mouth and the strength of his hands guiding me. The plush carpet muffled our footsteps, the only sounds in the vast suite our mingled, hot, and ragged breaths. The soft, unyielding edge of the mattress finally met the back of my knees, a silent, thrilling promise of what was to come.
His hands left my waist, a brief, cold absence that I immediately ached for. I heard the sharp, metallic clink of his belt buckle, a stark sound in the quiet room. His hands were fumbling, clumsy with a need that sent a thrill through me.
"Let me," I whispered against his lips, my own hands moving to meet his, pushing them gently aside.
My fingers found the cool metal of the button on his jeans. I worked it free with my knuckles grazing the tense, hot skin of his abdomen just below his navel. A low, guttural groan vibrated from his chest into mine, the sound swallowed by our kiss. I moved to the zipper, pulling it down with the same ferocity, feeling the tension coil in his body with every inch.
He broke the kiss, his hands gripping my hips as he kicked his jeans and shoes off in a single, fluid motion of impatience. The denim pooled at his feet before he stepped free, his powerful thighs now bare. He stood before me, still in his unbuttoned black shirt and simple cotton boxers, his arousal a stark, straining evidence of his need against the soft fabric.
My eyes dropped to where my hands were, now slipped inside his boxers, freeing him. His cock was thick and veined, curving slightly upward, the uncut skin smooth and flushed a deep, warm brown, the head glistening with anticipation, throbbing under my touch as I wrapped my fingers around it, stroking slowly from base to tip.
I locked eyes with him, my gaze heavy with intent, as I pressed one last, lingering kiss to his lips-soft at first, then deepening with a swirl of my tongue against his, tasting the faint salt of his skin mingled with our shared breath. Pulling back, I flashed a sly, wicked smile, my lips curving in anticipation as I slowly sank onto the edge of the bed. The cool, crisp sheets whispered against the bare skin of my thighs, a stark contrast to the heat building between us, making my pulse quicken. My hands slid possessively to his hips, fingers curling into the firm muscle there, pulling him closer until he stood between my parted legs, his body towering over me like a promise.
His cock, uncut and rock-hard,slightly curved upward, waved inches from my face, the foreskin partially retracted to reveal the flushed, glistening head, a bead of pre-cum pearling at the tip. I could smell his arousal-musky, masculine, intoxicating-and it made my mouth water, my own body responding with a fresh rush of wetness soaking the silk between my thighs.
With deliberate slowness, I leaned forward, my breath hot and teasing against his sensitive skin, watching his abs tense in anticipation. My tongue darted out first, flat and broad, lapping at the underside of his shaft from base to tip, tracing the prominent vein that pulsed under my touch. He hissed sharply, his hands immediately threading into my hair, fingers tangling in the loose waves, not pulling yet but holding, grounding himself as I explored.
“Fuck, Nabila… You are awesome,” he groaned, his voice a low, gravelly rumble that sent shivers racing down my spine. I hummed in response, the vibration traveling through him as I circled the head with my tongue, teasing the tender ridge beneath the foreskin, gently easing it back with my lips to expose more of that silky, hot skin. The taste hit me fully now-salty, tangy, with an underlying sweetness that made me crave more. I parted my lips wider, taking just the tip into my mouth, sucking lightly, my cheeks hollowing as I swirled my tongue around it in tight, lazy circles. His hips jerked involuntarily, a small thrust he quickly checked, but it pushed him a fraction deeper, and I moaned softly around him, the sound muffled and needy.
I looked up and our eyes met. I started taking him further, inch by inch, my lips stretching around his thick girth, the uncut skin gliding smoothly on the tip of my tongue.
“Ohhhhh…….fucckkkkk…….”He moaned and I felt his hand gripping my hair firmly.
My hands gripped his hips tighter, nails digging into the flesh, leaving faint crescent marks as I pulled him closer, guiding him into the wet heat of my mouth. Saliva mixed with his pre-cum, making everything slicker, messier-drool escaping the corners of my lips as I worked him deeper, relaxing my throat to take him to the hilt. The fullness made my eyes water slightly, but it was a good burn, a delicious stretch that had me clenching my thighs together, my clit throbbing with neglected need.
Ranjeet’s fingers tightened in my hair, twisting the strands with a gentle tug that bordered on demanding, sending electric sparks straight to my core.
“Goddamn, jaan, you’re so fucking good at this,” he rasped, his voice wrecked and breathless, eyes locked on mine as I looked up at him through my lashes, loving the way his face contorted in pleasure-brows furrowed, lips parted in a silent gasp.
“Aaaahhhhh…….suckkk itt babbbee……suucckkk myyy lunnndddd….hardddd….” Ranjeet groaned, his voice a raw, desperate plea that ignited a fire in my core, unleashing something wild and untamed within me. His words were like gasoline on my desire, fueling a boldness I hadn’t fully tapped into before.
I locked eyes with him, my gaze fierce and unapologetic, and picked up the pace, my head bobbing faster, lips stretched tight around his cock. My tongue pressed flat against the underside, dragging slow and deliberate on each upstroke, then flicked the sensitive frenulum with a teasing snap that made his hips jerk. My hand slid from his hip to grip the base of his cock, stroking the inches my mouth couldn’t take, twisting with a gentle, rhythmic pressure that matched the hungry pull of my lips.
I pulled back for a ragged breath.My saliva and his pre-cum glistening in strings between my swollen lips and his throbbing, wet cock. I grinned up at him, my voice low and sultry, dripping with newfound confidence.
“You taste like fucking heaven, Ranjeet… I could devour you forever.” His eyes widened, a mix of shock and awe at the raw edge in my tone, but before he could respond, I dove back in, taking him deep, my throat relaxing to swallow him to the hilt. I hummed deliberately, the vibrations rippling through him, making his knees buckle slightly as he cursed under his breath,
“Nabila… fuck, you’re unreal,” he rasped, his free hand cupping my jaw, thumb brushing my cheek with a tenderness that contrasted the wild heat between us.
My body was alive, every nerve singing with desire, my nipples hard and aching against the silk nighty, the fabric clinging to my sweat-damp skin. My free hand slipped between my thighs, fingers pressing hard against my soaked pussy, rubbing tight circles through the thin silk, my own moans muffled around his cock, amplifying his pleasure. He noticed, his eyes darkening to near-black, a hungry smirk tugging at his lips despite the strain in his voice. “Touching that sweet pussy while you suck me? Goddamn, jaan, you’re so fucking wet for this,” he growled, his voice thick with adoration and lust.
Then he caught my hair with his fist and slowly pulled out his dick from my mouth.Then he bent down and pulled my face upwards by tugging my hair and his lips met mine in a passionate kiss, deep and devouring, tasting himself on my lips.His other hand moved to my thigh. He gently caressed my thigh with his thumb and then it traveled to my crotch. He caught my hand and moved it to the side and he inserted his hand into the hem of my nighty. His cold and rough fingers brushed on my pussy and I moaned softly into his mouth.
“Ummmmmhhhhh…..”
My hand stretched out instinctively toward the bedside table, fingers closing around a condom packet. As I fumbled with the wrapper, trying to tear it open, Ranjeet caught my wrist, his eyes dark and pleading as he broke the kiss.
“Wait,” he whispered, his voice thick with need, “ I want you raw, Nabila. Want to feel every inch of you, cum deep inside of you. No barriers today Jaan,just us.”
I hesitated for a moment. “Okay,” I breathed with my heart pounding hard, I tossed the packet aside, “Do it. Fill me up,Ranjeet….”
That was all he needed. With a primal growl, he pushed me back onto the bed. I lay on my back, upping my upper body with my elbows on the bed. He hurriedly took off his shirt , revealing his hairy chest and muscled arms. With a red thread tied on his right wrist and throbbing glistening cock , he looked like a deity.
He climbed on bed with his knees on it. My body bounced slightly on the soft mattress as he moved over my stretched legs.He shoved the silk nighty up around my waist in one rough motion, exposing me completely, his eyes devouring the sight. His hands gripped my thighs, spreading them wide as he positioned himself between my legs. My breath hitched as he positioned himself between my thighs, his thick, pulsing cock brushing against my entrance, teasing me with its heat and promise. The sensation sent a shiver through me.
“Love you Nabila,” he murmured, his voice a low rumble, before thrusting in hard, burying himself to the hilt in one swift, powerful stroke.
“Love you too, Rannnnnnnjjjjjjjjj…….Aaaaaaahhhhhhhhh”
My words broke into a sharp, needy moan as he thrust forward, his cock driving into me in one hard, powerful stroke, filling me completely. The sudden stretch made my walls clench tightly around him, every inch of him throbbing inside me, hot and unyielding.
“Aaaahhh!” I gasped, my voice a raw cry of pleasure, my head tilting back, eyes fluttering half-closed but still holding his gaze.
His thighs slammed against my bum with each thrust, the rhythmic collision sending a delicious shock through my body, my curves jiggling under the force. My breasts bounced with the motion, swaying against the silk of my nightgown, the fabric catching on my hardened nipples, amplifying the sensation. My hands clawed at the bedsheets, fingers twisting in the soft silk as I fought to anchor myself against the waves of pleasure.
His hands stayed firm, one gripping my thigh, fingers sinking deeper into my skin, while the other slid to my hip, guiding my body to meet his thrusts.
“You feel so damn good,” he growled, his chest heaving, sweat beading on his skin as his eyes burned into mine, never wavering. He leaned closer, his breath hot against my neck, his free hand trailing up my side to cup my breast, he pressed it gently. My nipple hardened under this palm. My body arched instinctively, pressing my breasts harder into his hand, my hips rocking to match his rhythm.
His thrusts were relentless, a mix of hard, deep strokes and slow, grinding rolls of his hips that pressed his cock against my most sensitive spots, driving me wild. Each movement was raw, deliberate, the force of his thighs against my bum and the sway of my breasts heightening every sensation.
My hands moved, one clutching his shoulder, nails biting into his skin, the other tangling in his hair, tugging hard enough to draw a low, guttural groan from him. “Ranjeet…” I moaned, my voice breaking as he angled his hips, hitting a spot deep inside that made my vision blur with sparks.
The bed creaked under our frenzied rhythm, the air thick with our ragged breaths and the soft slap of skin against skin. For few minutes our bodies moved in a primal dance, the heat building, promising more as we lost ourselves in the raw, passionate state of mind.


He pounded into me hard, his breaths coming in harsh grunts, sweat beading on his forehead as he leaned down, his mouth crashing against mine in messy, desperate kisses.
“You’re so much delicious my queen,” he panted between thrusts, “tight… perfect… gonna stretch your pussy wide my jaanu…..”
“Ohhhhh….Raaannnnjeeetett……I….m……alll……youurrss….” I moaned, my voice trembling as I cradled his face, drawing him into a deep, searing kiss.


“Yeahhh….You…are ….mine….my…..love……my…..queen….my…..slut……” His voice was a low growl as he seized my wrists, his grip firm yet tender, pinning them above my head against the soft sheets.


“ohhhhhh…..Ranjeeeett…..yess….fuck me like that……fucckkkk,.....yours……slut…..harddd….” The room filled with the sounds of our bodies slapping together, our moans mixing in a symphony of raw need-his deep, throaty growls and my high-pitched cries echoing off the suite’s walls.
He continued fucking me rough.Weaves upon weaves of pleasure started washing mw over.I shuddered and moaned loudly as earth shattering orgasm hit me. But Ranjeet was far from over. After few strokes,he slowed down.His chest heaving, sweat glistening on his skin as he pulled back slightly. He sat on the bed on his knees, his cockhead still inside me. His dark eyes locked on mine, wild with hunger.
“Nabila,You’re unreal….” Ranjeet spoke heaving, voice thick with breath.
I giggled and put my right hand on his chest, just above his heart and felt his fast heartbeats.
“Calm down…tiger…”
“you’re a fucking goddess, you know that? My goddess.” He said caressing my thighs with his hands. His words sent a shiver through me, my body still trembling from the orgasm that had torn me apart.
Then he smirked, a wicked glint in his eyes, and grabbed a pillow from the bed, his movements quick and deliberate. “Lift that gorgeous ass, baby,” he teased, his tone rough but playful, “let’s get you just right for me.” I arched my hips, giggling despite the heat pooling in my core, and he slid the pillow beneath me, tilting my pelvis perfectly. The new angle made my breath hitch, exposing me completely-my pussy already swollen and slick, pulsing with anticipation. “Well, damn,” he chuckled, his gaze dropping to where we’d soon be joined, his cock hard and glistening with our arousal. “Look at this view, Nabila… you’re serving yourself up like a fucking feast.”
His eyes darkened, all playfulness sharpening into primal hunger as he positioned himself at my entrance, the thick head of his cock teasing my folds. “Ready for the ride again, baby?” he murmured, his voice a low, teasing purr. “This pillow’s gonna make you feel every. Single. Inch.” He thrust in slowly, deliberately, sinking into me inch by inch, and I gasped, the new angle driving him deeper than ever before.
The pillow tilted me up, letting his cock plunge straight into that sensitive spot deep inside, my G-spot sparking with every inch he pushed in. It felt like he was reaching new depths, at least a couple of inches deeper, his balls pressing flush against my ass, the head of his cock nudging my cervix in a way that sent electric shocks through me.
“Oh, fuck, Ranjeet!” I cried out, my body arching as he filled me completely. His cock felt massive, hot, and unyielding-like a burning rod stabbing me from the inside. The stretch was intense, a sharp, delicious pain that teetered on the edge of too much, my pussy walls clenching around him in a desperate mix of protest and pleasure.
The pillow made every sensation more vivid, the deeper angle turning each movement into a full-body assault. It burned, a fiery ache that melted into waves of ecstasy, making my thighs quiver and my breath come in short, desperate gasps. “You’re so deep,” I moaned, my voice breaking, “it’s… it’s too much, but so fucking good.”
He grinned, a playful edge to his lust. “Too much? Hah…..nobdody went that far before, Jaan,” he teased, his hands gripping my waist, fingers bruising as he held still to let me adjust.
I shook my head, grimacing.
“Seriously….I feel like I’m fucking a virgin…..Asif’s really chutiya guy……but…don’t worry my love….I…willl ….spread….it….properly….” He was pulling back his dick and slamming in again, the deeper penetration making stars explode behind my eyes, every ridge and vein of his cock dragging along my sensitive walls, the friction amplified to a dizzying intensity.
“Ohhhhhhh……” I was restless with beautiful agony.
“Your pussy’s gripping me like it’s never letting go. So hot, so wet… fuck, you’re so delicious my slut…” He hissed.
I moaned, my head thrown back, the pillow ensuring every thrust hit that perfect spot, sending sparks through my veins. “Ranjeet… you’re wrecking me,” I panted, a playful whine in my voice. “This pussy’s gonna need a vacation after you’re done!” He laughed, a deep, throaty sound that vibrated through me. “No breaks for you, baby,” he shot back, hooking my both legs over his shoulder, spreading me wide. “I’m gonna worship you whenever I like….Now hold on-I’m about to pray real hard.”
He slammed into me with a rhythm that was relentless, brutal, divine, each thrust deeper, harder, the pillow making every stroke a direct hit to that spot that made my vision blur. The burn in my core was intense, my pussy stretched to its limit, the pain and pleasure intertwining until I couldn’t tell them apart. “Ranjeet… it hurts so good,” I gasped, my voice breaking. “Keep going… fuck me like you own me!”
Just then, my phone buzzed on the nightstand, the screen lighting up with “Maa” in bold. I groaned, ignoring it, my body too consumed by Ranjeet’s rhythm to care. The buzzing stopped, only to start again, insistent and relentless. “Fuck,” I muttered, reaching for it with a trembling hand, but hesitating. It buzzed again, the third time, and Ranjeet slowed, his thrusts pausing, though he stayed buried deep inside me, his cock pulsing against my sensitive walls.
“Answer it, naughty queen,” he whispered, a wicked grin spreading across his face. “Let’s see what my future mother in law has to say at this moment.” His voice was a teasing challenge, his eyes glinting with mischief as he held still, the pressure of him filling me making it hard to think.
I shot him a mock glare, my breath hitching as I swiped to answer, his cock still stretching me, hot and unyielding.
“Assalamualaykum” I heard her voice as soon as I tapped the green symbol.
“What’s up, Ammi,” I replied, my voice shaky, trying to sound normal as Ranjeet’s hands tightened on my waist, his thumbs digging my flesh. Just as I spoke, he started moving again, slow and deliberate, each shallow thrust dragging against my G-spot, making my toes curl. I bit my lip to stifle a moan, my pussy clenching around him.
“Nabila, it’s past your usual time. Are you going to be late?” my mother’s voice cut through, sharp with concern.
“Y-Yeah,” I stammered, clutching the phone tight as Ranjeet’s slow, torturous thrusts sent sparks through my core. “Got a… video meeting with American clients. I’ll be… late.” My voice cracked as he rolled his hips, the pillow amplifying every sensation, his cock nudging deeper with each subtle movement.
“Hurry up as soon as possible, beta,” she said.
Before I could respond, my son’s voice burst through, bright and demanding. “Mummy! Bring ice cream when you come home! Chocolate chips, okay? Pleeease?”
Ranjeet’s grin widened, and he pressed himself deeper, his movements slow but relentless, his fingers brushing my clit just enough to make me gasp. I clenched my teeth, forcing a smile into my voice. “Okay, champ, chocolate chips ice cream… promise. Be good for Nani, alright?” I hung up quickly, throwing the phone across the bed, my body trembling from the effort of holding it together.
“You bastard,” I gasped, half-laughing, half-moaning as Ranjeet chuckled, his voice low and teasing. “You think that was funny, huh?” I said, my voice thick with lust and playful indignation.
“Oh, baby, you’re too fucking perfect,” he growled, the playful edge sharpening into hunger. “Now let’s see how loud I can make you scream.” He slammed into me hard, resuming his relentless rhythm, each thrust deeper, harder, the pillow ensuring every stroke hit that perfect spot. The burn in my core roared back, my pussy stretched to its limit, the pain and pleasure intertwining until I couldn’t tell them apart. “Ranjeet… fuck, you’re wrecking me,” I moaned, my voice breaking. “Keep going… own me!”
“You’re so perfect,” he rasped, his voice thick with devotion, the playful edge still there. “My queen, taking me like this… letting me worship you in every damn way.” His hand slid between us, fingers finding my clit, rubbing in tight circles that made me scream. “Come for me again, Nabila. Show me how much this pussy loves me.”
The friction, the angle, his words-they pushed me over the edge. My body arched, my pussy clamping down on him as another orgasm ripped through me, the pleasure so intense it bordered on agony. “Ranjeet!” I screamed, my voice echoing through the suite, my nails raking down his back. He groaned, his thrusts growing erratic, his cock throbbing inside me. “Fuck, Nabila… you’re milking me dry,” he growled, a playful lilt under his raw tone. “Gonna fill you up, baby-make you mine, over and over.”
With a final, desperate thrust, he came, his roar vibrating through me as he spilled inside, hot and thick, his release flooding me. My pussy burned with the intensity, the fullness, the raw connection between us. He collapsed onto me, both of us panting, slick with sweat, our bodies still joined. “ohhhhhhh Nabila,” he whispered against my lips, his voice softer but still teasing. “Thank you darling…..”
I grinned, my heart pounding, my body trembling with aftershocks.

[Neha Singh]

Fantastic and outstanding writing

[Sushmita Sharma]

Classic and outclass update

[Monikapu91]

Very very good story 
Narration is very nice 
Hot and sexy story

[naj0501]

Thank you all for liking the story. Its based on reality. Im always curious what is the most liked part in it.

[naj0501]

I lay there, my body still humming from the aftershocks, Ranjeet’s weight a warm, grounding presence against me. His breath tickled my neck, his lips brushing soft, lazy kisses along my collarbone. “Fuck, Nabila,” he murmured, his voice low and rough, but laced with that playful edge I couldn’t resist. “You’re gonna kill me jaan. That was… unreal.”
I laughed, my voice hoarse, my chest still heaving. “Me? You’re the one who wouldn’t let me breathe, even through that phone call too” I teased, swatting his shoulder lightly. My fingers moved on his arm, tracing the sweat-slicked muscles of his arm, feeling the heat radiating off him. “You’re lucky I didn’t moan right into Ammi's ear.”
He chuckled, lifting his head to meet my eyes,
“Oh, I was tempted to make you,” he said, his hand sliding down to squeeze my hip. “But I’m a gentleman… sometimes.” He winked, and I rolled my eyes, a grin tugging at my lips despite the soreness between my thighs and the warm, sticky evidence of his release inside me.
The air in the room was thick with the scent of sex and quiet hum of the Air Conditioner.But reality crept in.I glanced at the clock on the nightstand-shit, it was later than I thought. My son’s excited voice echoed in my head, demanding chocolate ice cream, and I could almost see my mother’s impatient frown waiting for me at home. Plus, I needed to clean up before heading out; I couldn’t exactly walk into my house feeling like this.
“Ranjeet,” I said softly, my fingers threading through his hair, “I gotta go soon. Ammi’s gonna be mad if I’m too late, and my little man’s waiting for his ice cream. But first, I need a quick shower.”
He groaned dramatically, burying his face in the crook of my neck. “Already? Can’t we just lock the door and stay here forever?” His tone was playful. “Fine, go get cleaned up,” he said, smirking. “But I’m wondering when will be the next time?”
I laughed, wincing at the tenderness between my legs as I slid off the bed, the memory of his relentless thrusts still burning in my core. “You’re insatiable,” I teased, grabbing my salwar and kameez from the chair where I’d left them neatly folded-my modest, home-appropriate outfit a stark contrast to the reckless heat of the last hour. “I need to take a quick shower to rinse off your handiwork, you animal.”
Ranjeet propped himself on one elbow, watching me with a lazy, appreciative grin as I headed for the bathroom. “Hurry up, my queen,” he called, his voice dripping with mock impatience. “Don’t keep that ice cream kid waiting too long.”
I rolled my eyes, stepping into the hotel suite’s sleek bathroom. The hot water hit my skin like a balm, washing away the sweat and the evidence of our passion, though the ache in my pussy was there, a delicious reminder of Ranjeet’s claim. I scrubbed quickly, the steam filling the air as I ran my hands over my body, still sensitive from his touch. My thighs trembled slightly, and I couldn’t help but smile, rewinding the passion with which we made love.
Five minutes later, I stepped out, toweling off and slipping into my salwar and kameez. The soft, flowing fabric felt grounding, pulling me back to the version of myself that walked out of my house earlier-dutiful daughter, devoted mom. But the flush in my cheeks and the spark in my eyes betrayed the firecracker Ranjeet had unleashed. I adjusted the dupatta over my shoulders, checking my reflection to make sure I looked presentable.
Back in the room, Ranjeet was pulling on his jeans, his bare torso catching the dim light as he watched me. “Damn, Nabila,” he said, his voice warm with admiration. “You make that salwar kameez look sexier than anything else you’ve worn today. How do you do it?”
I smirked, smoothing the fabric over my thighs. “Years of practice and a high tolerance for chaos,” I leaned over, pressing a quick kiss to his lips, staying just long enough to feel the spark reignite. “Don’t get too comfortable, though. I’m not done with you either.”
His eyes darkened, and he reached for me, but I danced out of his grasp, giggling. “No no…Not again. I’ve got a date with a pint of chocolate ice cream and a very demanding boy.” I grabbed my phone, checking for any more missed calls-thankfully, none-and slipped it into my purse.
Ranjeet stood, gloriously half-dressed and unashamed as he watched me gather my things. “Fine, go be Supermom,” he said. “But you’re gonna be my queen soon.”
I smirked “I will need some time for recovery, big boy…..Now I’m thinking what would I explain to my mother if she asks why I’m walking weirdly…” I shot back, winking as I headed for the door. “Don’t forget to lock up.”
As I stepped into the hallway, I glanced back through the door, catching Ranjeet’s grin as he buttoned his jeans. “Love you, firecracker,” he called out, soft but sincere.
“Love you too,” I murmured, my heart full as I closed the door behind me, already counting the hours until I could be back in his arms.
The hotel door clicked shut behind me, and I stepped into the cool evening air, my salwar kameez swaying lightly with each step. The Mumbai streets were alive with the usual chaos-honking autos, vendors shouting, the faint hum of life that never quite stopped. My body still thrummed with the memory of Ranjeet’s touch, his wicked grin, the way he’d pushed me to the edge and beyond. My thighs ached, a delicious reminder of every deep thrust, and I couldn’t help but smile to myself, my dupatta catching the breeze as I walked to my car.
But my son’s excited voice-“Chocolate ice cream, Mummy!” echoed in my mind, pulling me back to reality. I glanced at my watch. It was really getting late. If I hurried, I could hit the corner store, grab the ice cream, and make it home before Ammi’s impatience turned into a full-blown lecture. I slid into the driver’s seat, the leather cool against my skin, and started the engine, my thoughts flickering between Ranjeet’s low, teasing growl and the domestic routine waiting for me.
The grocery store was a quick stop, a small, fluorescent-lit shop crammed with everything from snacks to shampoo. I grabbed a pint of chocolate ice cream from the freezer.At the counter, the cashier-a young guy with a bored expression-barely looked up as he scanned it. “Anything else, ma’am?” he asked, his tone flat.
“Nope, that’s it,” I said, smiling. I paid and took the ice cream and headed back to the car. The drive home was a blur of city lights and traffic, the radio playing some old Bollywood song that made me hum along, my fingers tapping the steering wheel. Every now and then, a jolt of memory-Ranjeet’s hands on my hips, his voice calling me his queen-sent a shiver down my spine, and I had to shake my head to focus on the road.
I pulled into the driveway of Ammi’s flat just as the sky was already dark. The familiar sight of the building grounded me. I grabbed the ice cream and my purse, adjusting my dupatta to make sure I looked every bit the proper daughter and mother.
Inside, the aroma of Ammi’s cooking-Chicken Korma and fresh rotis-hit me like a warm hug. “Nabila, is that you?” she called from the kitchen, her voice carrying that mix of relief and mild irritation.
“Yeah, Ammi,” I replied, kicking off my sandals and padding into the living room. Adnan was sprawled on the floor, surrounded by a chaos of toy cars and crayons. His face lit up when he saw me, and he scrambled to his feet, barreling toward me with a grin.
“Mummy! Did you get it?” he demanded with eyes sparkling.
I laughed, pulling out the pint of chocolate ice cream and holding it up like a trophy. “What, this? Only for good boys who listen to Nani,” I teased, ruffling his hair.
“I was good!” he protested, bouncing on his toes. “Nani, tell her!”
Ammi appeared in the doorway, wiping her hands on a napkin, her expression softening despite the faint frown. “He was… mostly good,” she said, her eyes narrowing at me. “ That meeting must’ve been important.”
I nodded, keeping my face neutral even as a flash of Ranjeet’s wicked grin crossed my mind. “Yeah, American clients,” I said smoothly, setting the ice cream on the counter. “They talk forever. But I’m here now.”
Ammi huffed, but her gaze lingered, like she could sense something was off. “Dinner’s almost ready. Go wash up, and bring Adnan. No ice cream until he eats his vegetables.”
Adnan groaned dramatically, and I stifled a laugh, scooping him up in my arms. “Come on, champ, let’s get you cleaned up. You want that ice cream, you gotta earn it.” He giggled, squirming in my hold, and I felt a rush of love so fierce it almost drowned out the lingering heat from earlier.
As I helped Adnan wash his hands, his chatter filled the air-something about a race car that “goes super fast, Mummy!”I let myself settle into the warmth of home. But a part of me, tucked deep inside, was still in that hotel room, replaying Ranjeet’s touch, his voice, his promise of making love again.
After dinner, I tucked Adnan into bed, his chocolate ice cream happily devoured. “Love you, Mummy,” he mumbled, already half-asleep, clutching his favorite car toy.
“Love you too, baba,” I whispered, kissing his forehead. As I turned off light , my phone buzzed with a text from Ranjeet: “Miss you already, my queen.When’s the next time?”
I bit my lip, my heart racing as I typed back: “Be Patient, Tiger” I hit send, grinning, and slipped under the covers, the weight of my double life-mother, daughter, lover-settling around me like a warm, secret embrace.
Ranjeet’s message popped up:“I just can’t wait to feel you wrapped around me wildfire. you were so tight, so perfect. Got me hard just thinking about it.”
I flushed, my thighs pressing together as a wave of heat rolled through me. His words painted the memory vividly-his cock stretching me, the pillow tilting me just right, the way he’d hit that spot deep inside until I was screaming his name. I typed back, keeping it playful: “You’re Badmash, Ranjeet. I’m still sore down there”
“Take the painkillers, babe…..it will get used to it….” He replied.
“Ohhhh…so nice of you…thanks for medical advice…” I replied sarcastically.
His reply came fast, the three dots dancing on the screen before his message landed: “Owwww baby, I’m thinking about that gorgeous ass of yours. Felt so good in my hands… ever thought about letting me explore a little more back there? ?” The winking devil emoji made me roll my eyes, but my pulse quickened at his not-so-subtle hint.
I laughed softly, shaking my head as I typed: “Nice try, big guy, but that’s a no-go zone. This temple’s got sacred boundaries, and you’re already getting VIP access to the main altar. Be grateful!” I added a tongue-out emoji for good measure, keeping the vibe light but firm.
His response was immediate, his teasing unrelenting: “Sacred, huh? I’m a devout worshipper, Nabila. I can be gentle… or not, if you want it rough. ? Just sayin’, the way you arched into me today, your body was begging for more. Every inch of you felt like fucking heaven-hot, wet, gripping me like you never wanted to let go.”
My cheeks burned, and I shifted under the covers, the memory of his thrusts-deep, relentless, sparking stars behind my eyes-flooding back. He wasn’t wrong; my body had melted under him, every nerve singing with pleasure. But I wasn’t about to let him know how much his words were getting to me. I typed back, my tone dripping with sass: “Oh, you felt me, alright. Nearly broke me in half, you animal. But my ass is off-limits, so keep dreaming. Stick to what you’re good at-and you’re very good at that, I’ll give you.” I added a winking emoji, my grin widening as I hit send.
His next message came with a voice note, and I hesitated, glancing at Adnan again before plugging in my earphones. His low, husky voice filled my ears, sending a shiver down my spine. “Nabila, baby, you have no idea what you do to me. The way your pussy clenched around me, the way you moaned my name… fuck, I can still feel you, so slick, so tight, like you were made for me. I’m lying here, hard as hell, thinking about how you looked-spread out, that pillow under you, taking every inch like my perfect queen. Next time, I’m gonna make you scream even louder.”
I bit my lip hard, my breath catching as his words reignited the fire in my core. Damn him for knowing exactly how to unravel me, even from miles away. I typed back, keeping my cool: “You’re gonna have to work harder than that to outdo today, Ranjeet. I’m not that easy to impress. ? Get some sleep-you’ll need the energy.”
His reply was a string of laughing emojis followed by: “Challenge accepted, firecracker. I’ll have you begging for me next time. And don’t think I’m giving up on that other idea… I’m a patient man. ? Sweet dreams, my queen.”
I shook my head, a soft laugh escaping as I typed one last message: “Dream on, you devil.” I hit send, turned off the phone, and tucked it under my pillow, my body buzzing with anticipation. The house was quiet, Adnan’s soft snores drifting from his room, Ammi’s TV murmuring faintly in living room.