An Innocent Beauty Continues Part2

[Deepak.kapoor]

Vikram's Desperate Move

Vikram paced like a caged animal, every step echoing his restless mind. Meera… The name itself was enough to make his pulse spike. Their last meeting had sunk hooks deep into him, carving out a space where nothing but her existed. This wasn’t just lust anymore—it was an ache, a gnawing obsession that chewed at him day and night.


He had been patient, waiting for the right moment, but patience had limits. And today, it snapped.


The house would still be this afternoon—he knew the routine by heart. Napping servants. A husband away. And Meera, likely curled up in that soft bed, blissfully unaware.


No more waiting.


He moved like a shadow through the hall, every step controlled, silent. His hand rested on Meera’s bedroom door handle for a fraction of a second longer than it should have. One deep breath, and he turned it.


The door swung open.


Inside, soft afternoon light filtered through heavy curtains, painting the room in muted gold. There she was—Meera.


She lay sprawled diagonally across the bed, the thin cotton sari loosened in sleep. One leg bent slightly, the other stretched out, revealing the smooth curve of her thigh, bare and glowing under the faint light. The sari’s edge had slipped higher than modesty would allow, showing enough to make Vikram’s throat go dry.


Her blouse, soft and slightly loose, had shifted with her movements. One strap had slipped down her shoulder, and her breasts, full and heavy, were barely held inside the thin fabric—one nearly spilling free, the deep valley of her cleavage exposed, rising and falling with each calm breath. A few strands of her hair clung to her cheek, lips parted ever so slightly in the innocence of sleep, even as her body radiated pure sensuality without intention.


Vikram froze, drinking in the sight. His heartbeat thundered in his ears, his breath hitching at the sheer vulnerability of her position.


Meera stirred faintly, sensing something off. Her eyes fluttered open, lashes blinking away sleep, confusion morphing into shock.


“Vikram?” Her voice cracked slightly, alarm flashing across her face as she pushed herself upright, instinctively pulling the slipping sari over her exposed thigh and adjusting her blouse.


“Tum yahan kya kar rahe ho?” (What are you doing here?)


Vikram’s gaze locked onto hers—intense, almost feverish, still caught in the image of how she’d looked seconds ago. 


“Rok nahi paya khud ko,” (I couldn’t stop myself,) he muttered, voice rough, thick with longing. “Mujhe tum chahiye… abhi.” (I need you… right now.)


Meera’s mind kicked into overdrive. Her eyes darted to the door—closed, silent. The weight of the situation slammed into her. Alone. Trapped.


“Vikram…” She kept her voice even, careful. “Yeh waqt… yeh jagah… sahi nahi hai.” (This isn’t the right time… or place.)


But Vikram shook his head, taking a step closer, eyes blazing with desperate hunger. 


“Kabhi sahi waqt hota hai kya? Hamesha reason milta hai door bhaagne ka…” (Is there ever a right time? There’s always a reason to run away…) His hand came up, fingers brushing her cheek.


The touch jolted her, tension rippling through her body.


“Tumhe jaana hoga,” she said, firmer now. “Koi dekh lega toh—” (You need to leave. If someone sees you—)


“Dekhne do.” His voice dropped lower, rougher. His face was inches from hers now, breath warm against her skin.


“Mujhe fark nahi padta. Mujhe tum chahiye, Meera.” (Let them see. I don’t care. I want you, Meera.)


Her heart thudded in her chest, but she forced calm into her expression. She gently pushed his hand away, locking eyes with him.


“Sunno, Vikram…” she said softly, almost soothing. 


“Agar tum mujhe chahte ho, toh samajhna hoga. Aise ghus kar sab kharab ho sakta hai. Agar tum mujhe chaahte ho… toh sabr karo.”
(If you want me, you need to understand. Barging in like this could ruin everything. If you wish to me… then wait.)


For a second, something flickered in his eyes—confusion, hesitation, a crack in that hard wall of urgency.


Her voice dropped to a whisper, soft and deliberate. “Mujh par bharosa karo.” (Trust me.)


His jaw clenched. The desire still burned in his eyes, but his body stilled. His breathing slowed slightly as the words sank in. Finally, he stepped back, reluctant, like an animal pulled from its prey.


“Thik hai,” he muttered, voice tight. “Par mujhe intezaar mat karwana… zyada.”
(Fine. But don’t keep me waiting… too long.)


He turned sharply, hand on the door, pausing just once to glance back. That hunger still flared in his eyes, but now it carried something else—hope mixed with warning.


And then he was gone.


Meera sat frozen for a moment, heart pounding against her ribs. When the door clicked shut, she exhaled shakily, one trembling hand pressing to her chest. Relief washed over her—but so did unease.


That was too close…


And she knew this wasn’t the end.

[Deepak.kapoor]

A Moment of Passion

Vikram walked out of the room, the door clicking softly behind him… but he didn’t go far.

He leaned against the wall in the hallway, his chest heaving, his mind screaming.

That image of her—Meera sprawled across the bed, thigh exposed, blouse hanging dangerously loose, one breast almost slipping free—burned into him like fire under the skin. It wasn’t just arousal anymore. It was rage. Rage at himself for hesitating. Rage that he walked away.

"Main pagal ho raha hoon… abhi ruk gaya toh dobara moka nahi milega."
(I’m losing my mind… if I stop now, I may never get another chance.)


His hands clenched into fists. He thought of her soft lips parting as she woke, the slight flush on her chest, the innocence of that sleep mixing with raw sensuality. It twisted his insides, stoked something darker—possession.


And then… he made his decision.


He turned back.


Inside, Meera sat on the edge of the bed, still rattled but relieved. She ran a hand through her hair, trying to steady her breath. That was close… too close.


The door clicking again froze her mid-motion.


Her eyes darted up. “Vikram?”


He stepped inside, this time not with hesitation, but with a slow, predatory calm. The door closed behind him with a deliberate thud.


Meera’s pulse spiked. “Tum phir se? Maine kaha na—” (You again? I told you—)

“Bas.” His voice was low, hoarse. “Aur nahi sun sakta. Tum mujhe samajhti nahi ho, Meera. Jo maine dekha abhi…” He took a step closer, his eyes blazing. “Woh mujhe chain se baithne nahi de raha.”

(You don’t understand, Meera. What I just saw… it won’t let me rest.)

She stood up quickly, hands slightly raised as if to calm him. 

“Vikram, ruk jao. Yeh galat hai—” (Stop. This is wrong—)

“Galat? Galat toh yeh hai ki main tumse door raha jab tum mujhe khud bula rahi thi…” He gestured toward the bed, his voice deepening.

“Woh soyi hui Meera… blouse se bahar girti hui tumhari chaati… woh jhaankti hui smooth thighs…”

He took another step, closer now.

“Tum mujhe dekh rahi thi sapne mein bhi kya? Mujhe feel kar rahi thi kya?” 

(Wrong? Wrong is me staying away when your own body was calling me… that blouse barely holding you, those smooth thighs peeking out… were you dreaming of me, even then?)


“Enough!” she snapped, though her voice trembled. 

“Vikram, darwaza kholo aur jao!” 

(Open the door and leave!)

But he didn’t stop. His eyes had gone darker, his steps slower, calculated, almost animalistic.

“Meera…” he whispered, now just a breath away.

“Main tumhe chahta hoon. Abhi. Yahin.”
(I want you. Right now. Here.)

His hand shot out, gripping her wrist—not painfully, but firmly enough to make her breath hitch. He pulled her closer, his other hand grazing the bare curve of her waist where her sari had loosened.


“You know how crazy you looked, lying there like that? 


Jaise ek gift jo khula jaane ke liye wait kar raha ho.” 

(Like a gift waiting to be opened.) 

His voice dipped lower, rough and shaky with restraint slipping fast.
 
“Aur main… main rukne nahi waala.” (And I… I’m not going to stop.)

Meera’s mind raced. She pushed lightly against his chest, trying to regain space, but he didn’t budge.

“Vikram, listen to me…” Her tone was steady but urgent.

“Agar tumne aaj koi line cross ki, hum dono ke liye khatra ho jaayega.” 

(If you cross a line today, it will destroy us both.)

For a moment, he froze. His grip loosened slightly, but the hunger in his eyes didn’t fade. He cupped her face instead, his thumb brushing dangerously close to her lips.

“Khatra?” he murmured, lips curling into a dangerous smirk.

“Mujhe parwah nahi, Meera. Tum jaanti ho main tumhe chhod nahi paunga. Tum mujhe milni hi padogi…”

(Danger? I don’t care, Meera. You know I can’t let you go. You’ll have to give yourself to me…)

He leaned in closer, breath hot on her cheek, his body nearly pressing hers against the wall.

Meera stiffened, realizing the depth of his obsession. This wasn’t the same Vikram she could calm with reason. This was something unrestrained.


Vikram’s face hovered dangerously close to hers, his breath hot and ragged, his eyes clouded with unrestrained hunger. His grip on her wrist tightened, pulling her flush against him.


“Meera…” His voice was low, almost trembling.

“Ab nahi ruk sakta main. Jo maine dekha… woh mujhe pagal kar raha hai.” 

(I can’t stop now. What I saw… It’s driving me insane.)

Meera’s heart thudded. She should have pushed him away, screamed, done something… but something inside her hesitated. Why? Because deep down, buried beneath layers of fear and reason, she still had that soft spot for Vikram—the man who once made her feel desired without shame.


And he could sense it.

He released her wrist only to slide both hands around her waist, gripping firmly, pulling her sari loose even more. The silky fabric slipped, baring more of her thigh, her waist, almost half her blouse.

“Yeh tumhari galti hai, Meera…” he whispered, his lips brushing her ear.

“Aise soyi thi… jaise mujhse keh rahi ho, ‘Vikram, le lo mujhe… abhi.’”
(This is your fault, Meera… sleeping like that, like you were saying to me, ‘Vikram, take me… now.’)

She gasped, shivering—not entirely from fear. Why am I not fighting harder?

Her hands pressed against his chest. “Vikram… hum aise nahi kar sakte…” (We can’t do this…)

He silenced her by gripping her chin and forcing her to meet his eyes. His look was raw, desperate, like a man drowning.

“Main nahi ruk raha.” (I’m not stopping.)

And then his mouth crashed onto hers.

It wasn’t a kiss—it was a claim, hard and hungry. His tongue pushed past her parted lips, searching, demanding, and despite herself, a soft moan slipped from Meera’s throat. She hated it, hated how that part of her still responded.


Her hands pushed weakly at first, but then clutched at his shoulders as he deepened the kiss, one hand sliding up to cup her breast, the other pulling her sari completely free.


Her breath hitched as he whispered against her lips,

“Teri chaati… abhi bhi mere sapno mein aati hai…”
(Your breasts… I still dream about them…)

His hand kneaded one through the thin blouse, his thumb rolling over her nipple until it stiffened under his touch.

“Vikram…” she whispered again, but this time it lacked conviction. That soft spot—those unspoken memories—left her confused, trembling.


“You feel this too, Meera…” he murmured, lips trailing down her neck, biting just hard enough to leave marks.

“Mat jhooth bol ki tujhe nahi chahiye main…” (Don’t lie that you don’t want me…)

She shuddered as his other hand slid down her bare thigh, gripping it firmly, hoisting her up. In one fluid motion, he pressed her back against the wall, her legs instinctively wrapping around his waist.

“See?” he growled softly.

“Tere pair khud mujhpar aa gaye…” (Your legs came to me on their own…)

Meera closed her eyes tightly, trying to shut out the storm of emotions. He’s wrong. He’s wrong… isn’t he? Yet her body betrayed her, arching slightly when his hard penis pressed against her pussy through their clothes.


His breathing was ragged, wild, and his hands were everywhere now—gripping, pulling, squeezing—like a man starving after too long a wait.


“Ab main nahi rukunga, Meera…” he said against her ear, voice raw, shaky with passion and fury alike.

 “Chahe tum mana karo… chahe tum chaho…” (I’m not stopping now, Meera… whether you say no… or yes…)

Vikram’s grip was unyielding, his body pressed tight against hers as if even a breath of space would break the spell. His voice trembled with hunger, raw and unrestrained.

“Tum samajhti ho na, Meera… main kitna intezaar kiya hai.” (You know, Meera… how long I’ve waited.)

Meera’s lips parted to respond, to stop him, but the words died in her throat when his mouth claimed hers again—hungry, punishing, almost desperate.

She should have pushed him away. She knew that. But her hands betrayed her, clutching at his shoulders instead, fingers curling into his shirt as if searching for balance. That soft spot she’d buried for him, the way he once made her feel desired beyond reason, came rushing back like a wave she couldn’t stop.

His hands roamed freely now, sliding under her blouse, finding her bare skin. She gasped when his fingers cupped her breast directly, kneading it with a low, guttural moan escaping his lips.

“Yeh… wahi feel… jo kabhi bhooli nahi…” (This… the same feeling I could never forget…)

Her breath hitched, a small whimper slipping out unbidden.

“You feel it too, Meera…” he whispered, lips trailing down her neck, biting and sucking until she shivered. 

“Mana mat karo…” (Don’t deny it…)

One hand gripped her thigh again, lifting her with ease, pressing her against the wall, his hips grinding into her pussy. She gasped sharply at the sensation, his hard penis pressing right where she was already sensitive, her body betraying her mind.

“Dekha?” he murmured against her ear, voice husky.

“Tera body khud keh raha hai haan…” (See? Your body is saying yes…)

“Vikram…” she whispered, eyes squeezed shut, torn between fear and the heat pooling inside her.

He lowered her slightly, fingers fumbling at her sari until it pooled around her waist, his hands sliding beneath, gripping the curve of her bare hips. Her blouse shifted further, one breast almost spilling free entirely. He paused for a brief moment—just to look at her.

“Meera…” His voice was rough, almost reverent.

“Tu itni khoobsurat hai ki dimaag kharab ho jaata hai mera…” (You’re so beautiful you drive me insane…)

And then his mouth was on her chest, sucking hungrily, his tongue circling her nipple through the thin fabric before tugging it down, baring her fully. She gasped, one hand flying to his head—meant to push him away, but instead holding him there.

Her body arched, betraying her final defense.

He kissed her again, deeper, rougher, one hand sliding lower between her thighs. She whimpered against his lips but didn’t resist, her nails digging into his back as he pressed against her core, fingers teasing over fabric.

And then, in a shattering moment of weakness, Meera let go—not just of his shirt, but of her resistance.

Her legs wrapped tighter around him, her lips parted to his kiss willingly now, a soft moan escaping as her body melted into his. She could feel herself trembling—not just from fear, but from the intensity of the moment, from that dangerous, intoxicating mix of her soft spot for him and his unrelenting dominance.

“Take me… Vikram…” she whispered finally, almost inaudible, but it was all he needed.

His eyes burned with triumph and hunger, and he carried her to the bed, laying her down, their bodies tangling as if this moment had been waiting for years.

[Crazy007]

Wow great update

?

Is it a dream or what
The emotions of Meera

[Deepak.kapoor]

Seeking Protection in the Aftermath

The room was still, filled only with the sound of their heavy breathing as they lay entwined. Their bodies gradually relaxed, the rush of passion giving way to a calm that enveloped them both. Vikram held Meera close, his fingers trailing lazily over her skin. But Meera, though she rested against him, had something pressing on her mind that couldn't wait.


She took a deep breath, steadying herself as she pulled back slightly to look into his eyes. "Vikram," she began, her voice severe yet soft, “I need to tell you something about what happened this morning. It’s important."


Vikram's gaze sharpened, and his contentment was quickly replaced with concern. "What is it, Meera?" he asked, gently brushing a strand of hair from her face. He could see the worry in her eyes, the hesitation that told him whatever she was about to say was weighing heavily on her.


Meera closed her eyes for a brief moment, gathering the courage to speak. "It’s about Arjun,” she started, feeling a knot tighten in her stomach. “This morning, he tried to… force himself on me. He used the threat of Riya, the video…, and everything to make me bend to his will. I didn't have a choice."


Vikram stiffened, his eyes darkening with anger as he listened. “He did what?” he growled, his voice low and rage-filled. The thought of Arjun acting on his desires, using their shared leverage in such a way, made his blood boil.


"Yes," Meera continued, her voice shaky yet determined. "He manipulated me into submitting to him, using Riya's safety as leverage. He said if I didn't do what he wanted, he would go after her next. I didn't know what else to do." She paused, searching his eyes, looking for the man who had just shared something deeply intimate with her. "But Vikram, if you care about me and truly love me, then there has to be a way you can end this... to all these threats."


Vikram's jaw clenched, his expression hardening. He knew this game had started with him and Arjun as a means to indulge in their fantasies. But now, seeing Meera so helpless, her eyes pleading for protection, he felt a conflict rise.


"Meera," he said after a moment, his voice steady though laced with the remnants of anger. "Arjun and I... we both began this, yes. It was a game to us, a way to take control. But things have changed." His gaze softened as he looked at her. "If you’re asking if there’s a way to stop him, there is. We started this blackmail together so I can get him off.”


Meera felt a glimmer of hope and a stab of fear at what he might have to do to make that happen. “He’s still your friend,” she said cautiously, searching his eyes. “Are you sure you can make him stop?”


Vikram nodded, his expression resolute. “Yes, he's still my friend, which is why this can work. I know how to talk to and make him understand that this has gone too far.” His hand cupped her cheek, his thumb brushing gently against her skin. "If he values our friendship and sees that this isn't just a game anymore, he'll listen. I'll make sure of it."


Meera swallowed. She trusted Vikram, hoping his influence over Arjun could end this nightmare. "Then please, Vikram," she whispered, trembling slightly, "do it for us. For me. I can't live under this threat anymore, nor can Riya."


Vikram leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. "I’ll handle it," he promised, his voice firm. "I’ll talk to Arjun."


Meera sighed. Vikram's words comforted her, but a lingering doubt gnawed at the edge of her mind. She needed more than just his promise to talk to Arjun. She needed a safety net to ensure they were no longer under the constant threat of exposure.


“Vikram,” she murmured, pulling back slightly to meet his gaze. Her eyes searched his, looking for the determination she needed to see. “I believe you can talk to him, make him understand. But… what if he disagrees? What if he refuses to back down?”


Vikram's expression tensed, his jaw clenched as he considered the possibility. Confronting Arjun about their entire twisted arrangement was already difficult enough, but the idea that his friend might not listen added a layer of problem.


"Meera…" he started, but she cut him off, placing a hand on his chest, her eyes firm and pleading.


“Listen,” she said, her voice steady yet insistent. “If he disagrees, then there’s one thing you can do to protect us—delete those videos. From both his phone and yours.” She felt a chill run down her spine as she spoke, knowing how much power those videos held over them. "If those videos are gone, he’ll lose leverage over us. You have to be sure, Vikram. Can you do that?"


Vikram's eyes widened slightly, caught off guard by the directness of her request. He knew the videos were the root of their power, the tool they used to manipulate and control. Deleting them would mean surrendering that power entirely. But as he looked into Meera’s eyes, the fear, the weakness, he realized that the stakes had changed. It wasn’t just about control anymore—it was about protecting someone he had grown to care for.


He exhaled slowly, his expression hardening with resolve. "Yes," he said quietly but firmly. "If he disagrees, I’ll delete the videos from my phone. I can also try to get to his phone, but it’ll be tricky. I know his habits, though, so if there's a way to access it without him knowing, I’ll find it."


Meera nodded, her heart pounding with a mixture of hope and anxiety. “It might be our only chance,” she whispered. “If those videos are gone, he’ll have nothing to threaten us with.”


Vikram cupped her face with his thumb, brushing against her cheek. "I'll do everything I can," he promised. "For you, for us."


Vikram looked at Meera, her eyes full of fear, hope, and a plea for safety that tugged at something deep within him. 


Without breaking eye contact, he reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. Meera watched, her heart racing as she grasped what he was about to do. 


Vikram unlocked his phone and navigated to the folder where he had stored the videos. With a few swipes, he found the files and looked up at Meera one last time. “If this is what it takes to make you feel safe, then I’ll do it,” he said, his voice firm yet gentle. “You’re forever free from any exposure from my side.”


He tapped the delete button, and a prompt asked if he was sure. His thumb hovered over the screen for just a second. Then, without hesitation, he pressed ‘Delete,’ watching as the files vanished, leaving nothing but an empty folder.


“They’re gone,” he said quietly, slipping the phone back into his pocket. “You don’t have to worry about anything from me anymore. I’ve erased my part in this. I’ll still talk to Arjun, but at least now, you know I can’t use anything against you.”


Meera exhaled shakily, feeling a sudden weight lift from her shoulders. A wave of relief washed over her, but it was mixed with the reality of what lay ahead. Vikram’s gesture meant the world; it was the first step toward breaking free from the hold of blackmail and manipulation. “Thank you,” she whispered, her voice cracking slightly as she processed the enormity of his action. “This means more than you know.”


Vikram nodded, his eyes softening as he reached out to hold her close.


For the first time in what felt like forever, Meera felt a glimmer of hope.

[Deepak.kapoor]

Please respond with your feedback and suggestions. That helps the author improve his work. Some people have brought to my notice that they cannot find me on the Amazon India site. I am trying to resolve that; in the meantime, you can easily buy a VPN Service and find me on Amazon USA.

[Deepak.kapoor]

सम्मान और बदला: Hindi Version Of Honor and Vengeance (book 5) you can find live in amazon . I hope to put all my other work, too, on the Amazon India website in a few days.

[Deepak.kapoor]

Meera’s Expression of Trust

Meera held his gaze, a storm of newly calmed emotions settling inside her. The sound of the video files being permanently erased still echoed in the silent room—a sound that was more than just data deletion; it was the sound of a slate being wiped clean, of a future opening up.


“You did it,” she finally whispered, the two simple words heavy with all the meaning they held. “You didn’t just say you would, Vikram. You actually did it. You let go of the control.”


Vikram swallowed hard, his eyes reflecting a complicated mix of relief, exhaustion, and a tentative hope he hadn't allowed himself to feel until this moment. “I… I know it doesn't make up for anything that happened before,” he admitted, his voice rough. “But it was the only way to prove I meant it that I want us to be real. Not coerced.”


A deep, soul-stirring gratitude surged through Meera. She had pushed him, gambled on the man she hoped he could be, and he had risen to meet her there. Now, it was her turn to meet him.


Without breaking eye contact—a silent promise passing between them—she shifted, smoothly climbing over his hips until she was straddling him.


Her hands moved. They traced the tense, hard lines of his chest, feeling the residual uncertainty still humming beneath his skin. She leaned in, her breath warm against his ear, letting her voice be the soft caress he needed.


“That means everything to me,” she murmured, pulling back just enough for him to see the sincerity blazing in her eyes. “Everything. You gave me back a piece of my peace. And in doing that, you just gave me a reason to trust you, Vikram.”


He lifted a hand, his fingers trembling slightly as they brushed the curve of her jaw. “Trust… I don’t know if I deserve it yet, Meera.”


She captured his hand, guiding it flat against her racing heart, letting him feel the proof of her raw, unfiltered emotion. “Maybe not. But I’m choosing to give it to you anyway,” she countered, her voice dropping to a seductive, yet somber tone. “Because I saw the fight you had to win to do this. I saw the man you chose to be.”

“And what does the man I chose to be… get?” he asked, his surprise flickering into a hungry, captivated wonder as he felt the soft pressure of her weight, the unusual softness in her expression.


Meera lowered her head, their foreheads touching, her lips hovering an inch above his. “He gets me. Truly,” she breathed, the word hanging like a heavy promise in the air between them. “He gets my appreciation. He gets to feel what it's like when I’m not just complying, but when I’m choosing him, too.”


She pulled back to watch his reaction as she let her fingers drift down from his chest, slowly tracing the rugged ridges of his abdomen, a path of sensual recognition.


“Show me, Meera,” he choked out, his eyes dark with the new, powerful emotion that threatened to overwhelm him. “Show me how that feels.”


A small, knowing smile curved her lips—a smile that held power, not domination, but the power of mutual desire. “With pleasure, Vikram. Absolute pleasure.”


Meera settled her weight fully upon Vikram’s hips. The exquisite, hard weight of his penis pressing intimately against her sent a thrill through her vagina, electrifying every nerve she possessed.


She looked down at his captivated face. Taking his hands, she guided them deliberately up her body, bringing his large, warm palms to rest gently on the full curve of her breasts.


She took a slow, steadying breath, allowing the moment to stretch, savoring the profound stillness before the storm. Then, she reached down, her own hand guiding his beautifully hard penis to the slick, welcoming entrance of her vagina.


The initial, hot contact sent a deep, electric jolt through both of them. A soft, unbidden gasp escaped her lips, a sound of pure anticipation and immediate need.


Slowly, agonizingly, she began to lower herself. Her body instinctively resisted the immense fullness for a heartbeat. She pressed onward, feeling him slide into her, an inch-by-inch invasion that was somehow also a perfect, deep filling.


A profound, guttural groan tore from Vikram’s throat as her heat fully sheathed his immense size. “Meera,” he rasped, his hands instinctively tightening on her hips, anchoring her to him.


Her eyes squeezed shut, a wave of pleasure coursing through her. Her body trembled as she took him in fully, every glorious, stretching inch of him filling her in a way that made her toes curl.


She paused, resting entirely on him, catching her breath, savoring the weight and the depth. “God, that’s… that’s perfection,” she whispered, the words trembling with the intensity of the connection.


“Stay right there, Meera. Just feel me. Just like that,” Vikram urged, his voice thick with a pleasure that was both physical and deeply emotional.


Then, with a soft, liberated sigh, she began to move. It was slow at first, a rocking, undulating motion that savored the delicious friction of their bodies. She found a rhythm, an organic back-and-forth that celebrated their intimate fit.


Vikram’s hands roamed her back, sliding up to grasp the plump weight of her breasts, squeezing them firmly as she moved, guiding her tempo.


“Yes, that’s it,” he commanded, his voice growing rougher with increasing urgency.


Meera threw her head back, her focus entirely internal now, on the beautiful friction building with every downward press and every rocking thrust.


“Feel how much I want you, Vikram,” she gasped, driving down harder, deeper, finding the delicious center of her need. “Feel it.”



As Meera found her rhythm, a primal, consuming need taking over her movements, Vikram responded by bucking his hips upward, meeting her descent halfway, which sent exquisite shockwaves of pleasure tearing through both of them.


His eyes, now dark and utterly focused, remained locked onto hers, absorbing every minute change, every expression of pleasure, every gasp that crossed her face.


“Yes! That’s it, Meera,” he grated out, a low, guttural moan trapped in his chest. “Ride me like that. You’re incredible.”


Meera cried out, a sharp, ragged sound of pure sensation as her eyes squeezed half-shut. The pleasure was intensifying at an alarming rate. Each time he thrust deep into her, she felt her core contract, drawing her closer to a breaking point she had never touched before. The incredible fullness, the way he occupied every inch of her, was pushing her relentlessly toward the edge.


“Oh, Vikram… I can’t…” she gasped, the words fragments of desperation and ecstasy. “It’s too much…”


He groaned softly, a sound of deep, controlled effort. He thrust up into her with a slow, steady, agonizingly deep rhythm, controlling the pace just enough to draw out every ounce of mounting pleasure. “Don’t stop,” he commanded, his voice rough, thick with desire, the words tasting like a delicious threat. “You’re almost there. Look at me, Meera. Take it.”


Her breath began to catch in shallow, rapid gasps. Responding only to the building pressure, she moved faster, riding him with a frantic need that had become an all-consuming fire.


“Faster, love… need it harder,” she pleaded, the words spilling out as incoherent moans. She gripped his shoulders, her nails digging in slightly as the world narrowed down to the magnificent pressure point deep within her.


Meera could feel the wave gathering, the tightness in her belly growing until she felt lightheaded and could hardly draw a full breath. Vikram’s focus became singular; his hips began to match the frenzied rhythm she had set, his thrusts becoming harder, deeper, driven by the mutual, desperate need for release.


“Now, Meera! God, now,” he roared, his voice cracking with the strain.


And then, with one final, earth-shattering, powerful thrust that felt like he touched her soul, they both shattered.
Meera cried out, a long, high sound of complete release, her body arching violently against his. The wave of climax washed over her, a blinding, all-consuming cascade that left her trembling, weak, and gasping for air.


Vikram groaned a deep, satisfied sound, a sound of immense relief and completion, holding her tight against him as his release tore through him, pulsing heat deep inside her, filling her completely. He collapsed back onto the sheets, pulling her down to rest on his damp chest, their bodies slick and entangled.


“Meera… my God,” he whispered into her hair, still breathing hard, his heart slamming against his ribs beneath her ear.


She couldn't speak, managing only a soft, ragged moan of absolute satisfaction, burrowing her face into his neck, content to feel the violent, beautiful aftershocks subside. This was more than just a climax; it was the physical proof of their new beginning.

[Crazy007]

Wow splendid choice of words

The rage the anticipation andsensousness of Meera encounter is awesome

Waiting for more and more episodes

[Deepak.kapoor]

Wow splendid choice of words

The rage the anticipation andsensousness of Meera encounter is awesome

Waiting for more and more episodes

Thanks For feedback . Please Read my other works too and give feedback .

[Deepak.kapoor]

Vikram's Resolve

The room settled into a profound, calm quiet, punctuated only by the soft brush of sheets and the steady beat of two hearts now aligned. Vikram lay beside Meera, but his mind was already turning, charting a course for the future.


He could feel the weight of Meera’s trust settled upon him, a burden of responsibility that felt strangely lighter than the power he had wielded before. She had looked past his most profound failings and offered him a chance to be redeemed.


Meera rested her head on his chest, her eyes closing as she felt the powerful current of his resolve. She felt a spark of hope—a tiny, fragile flame in the darkness they had navigated. Her risk had paid off; Vikram had met her trust with a sincerity she hadn't dared to expect. Now, everything depended on his next move.


He gently shifted, careful not to jostle her, sliding off his chest and sitting up on the edge of the bed. The weight of the moment made him solemn. "Meera, I need to go. Now."


Meera lifted her head immediately, concern mingling with the hope in her eyes. "To do what?" she asked, her gaze piercing, searching his profile for answers, for any sign of wavering.


Vikram turned back to her, his posture firm, his expression hard with resolve. "To finish this," he replied, meeting her look without flinching. "I can't let this hang over us. I need to make sure we're completely free."


He reached out, taking her hand and gripping it tightly. "The first and most crucial thing is Arjun. He holds the only other copies. I have to find him tonight and delete those videos from his phone. They are his only leverage, his only weapon."


His jaw tightened, a muscle jumping in his cheek. "But it's more than just the files. I need to talk with him. This blackmailing, the threats—it all ends now. I will make him understand that I am out, and he is powerless."


Meera sat up, pulling the sheet over her chest. "He won't just hand them over, Vikram. Arjun is hungry for control. He’ll fight you."
"I know," Vikram countered, his eyes dark with grim determination. "But he will listen to me, one way or another. I know his weaknesses, Meera. I helped him build the scheme; I know how to dismantle it. If he resists, if he doesn't listen... I'll find a way to ensure he understands there will be serious consequences. I'll expose the whole scheme myself before I let him hurt you or Riya again."


A surge of relief, potent and warm, flooded Meera. This was the man she had hoped he could be, standing up to the darkness he had helped create.


"Be careful," she insisted, squeezing his hand fiercely. "He won’t give up that easily. Promise me you won't do anything reckless. Don't throw away what you just gained for a moment of anger."


Vikram brought her hand to his lips, kissing her knuckles. "I promise. My purpose now is to protect Meera. My only recklessness will be against Arjun. And I have too much to lose to be careless now. You taught me that."


He stood up, grabbed his clothes, and dressed quickly, the determined movements contrasting with the earlier languor. He glanced back at her, his eyes locking with hers across the small distance.


"I’ll be back soon," he promised, his voice low and firm. "Don't worry. This ends tonight."


With a final, resolute nod, he left the room, the door closing softly behind him. Vikram knew exactly where Arjun usually hung out, and he planned his approach with sharp, cold clarity—the time for confrontation had come. He was no longer driven by fear, but by the simple, powerful need to protect and right his wrongs.


With determination coursing through his veins, he headed out into the night, ready to find Arjun and finally end the cycle of blackmail and deception they had set in motion. He was walking toward the darkness, but this time, he was carrying the light of Meera’s trust.