Adultery Love Sex And War : Age Of Darkness

[SMOD-P]

Its coming online in few hours.....just finishing up some AI arts to the chapter and last leg of corrections.....it will be online soon!!!   

[Harry Jordan]

I have a family emergency which is why Chapter 31 is delayed....however it will come in few hours.....I will post a simple message before I post the chapter for active readers to be ready.

[SMOD-P]

Still waiting...

[Ishowspeedy]

Delayed to Saturday.... It's seems

[Demeter]

So that the disappointment is not too great despite the author's announcement: 
‘I'll post the new chapter at the weekend!’
and nothing happens ...
Some readers are advised to study the announcement with due attention,
namely:
‘I'll post the new chapter at the weekend!’
The reference to ‘at the weekend’ in the previous sentence is relative and does not indicate a specific and exact time, but merely says ‘at the weekend’, 
and as we all know, there are exactly 52 weekends in a year.

If, instead, the author says: 
‘I will post the new chapter this coming weekend!’
He is sharing this information with us, and it is precise and exact, as it specifies the weekend that follows according to the author's announcement.

Everything else is at the discretion of the author, who decides what happens to the text.


-----------
Demeter

[Harry Jordan]

ITS HERE!!!! 

So beloved Readers , 

     The last few days has been total chaos , but thankfully I am posting it right away. And I believe this delay was a boon in disguise due to recent events. I don't know how many of you are Kiara Advani fans but I guess this recent chapter will give them some joy after the debacle yesterday LOL. I have split my work on this chapter to compensate for the delay so Chapter 31 is coming up right now while Chapter 32 will be posted without delay on Saturday. We are moving into a more portion of the story anyways so you will see "Sex" to play a smaller role in future chapters. Regardless hope you have a good read with Chapter 31 as this features majority   kind of action and one small "revenge" sequence. Hope you enjoy this spicy chapter!

HAPPY HOLI TO ALL READERS! 

       From Your's Truly

 HARRY JORDAN 

[Harry Jordan]

                                                                                                                  CHAPTER 31

The sun was only beginning to rise over Silver Beach, its pale orange glow stretching across the restless Arabian Sea. Hemant’s shoes struck the damp sand in a steady rhythm as he sprinted along the shoreline, his breath measured, controlled. Each stride was an act of defiance against fatigue, against memory, against everything that once held him back. The salty wind slapped against his face, but he didn’t slow down. Pain was familiar. Pain was useful. It reminded him that he was still alive—and that he still had work to do.



Once, during these morning runs, his thoughts had always drifted toward Sonarika. Her smile. Her promises. Her betrayal. The hollow silence that followed her departure. But now, there was nothing. No bitterness, no longing, no regret. That chapter had been sealed and buried. In its place stood something colder, sharper. A singular purpose. Revenge was no longer an emotion to him—it was a mission.


As he ran, images surfaced uninvited: Manush Rustom standing beside him in a dimly lit warehouse, teaching him how to read enemies, how to anticipate betrayal, how to survive. Manush had turned him into Michael King, the shadow that haunted the underworld. He had been more than a mentor—he had been family. And Hemant had failed him. Failed to arrive in time. Failed to stop the massacre that wiped out Manush and everyone he loved. That failure was etched into his bones.


He slowed to a jog, fists clenched, jaw tight. The AZRAEL Syndicate had orchestrated that slaughter. They had ruled through fear, corruption, and bloodshed. Hemant had tried to walk away from that world, to reinvent himself, to build something legitimate. But nightmares didn’t respect new beginnings. Every night, the screams returned. Every morning, the same conclusion waited for him: peace would only come when AZRAEL was erased.



Back at his Silver Beach villa, the private gym echoed with the dull thud of fists against leather. Hemant stood before a heavy punching bag, sweat already soaking through his vest. In his mind, the bag was no longer an object. It was Daraaksh Zarir. It was Lai Tong. Every punch carried a name. Every strike was fueled by memory. He attacked with relentless precision—hooks, elbows, knees—until his knuckles burned and his arms trembled.



Amir Hassan haunted his thoughts the most. The Lebanese general was a legend of cruelty, a man who found pleasure in breaking people slowly. Once the muscle of AZRAEL, he now commanded a fortified base in the mountains of Tabarja, hidden within an old Ottoman fort. It was surrounded by concrete walls, watchtowers, and armed patrols. Many had tried to breach it. None had succeeded. But Hemant didn’t see a fortress. He saw a challenge.



And inside that fortress was Lai Tong.



Lai had been a shadow in Shanghai, living in the long shadow of his older brother Tong. When Michael King had killed Tong, it had ignited a fire in Lai that never went out. Now , years later, Lai struck back—murdering Ricky Tan, one of Hemant’s closest allies, and Father Dominic, the priest who had once saved him from drowning in darkness. Their deaths were not accidents. They were messages. And Hemant had received them loud and clear. He slammed the punching bag one final time, sending it swinging violently. Breathing hard, he rested his forehead against it, eyes closed. He wasn’t angry anymore. Anger burned out quickly. What remained was something far more dangerous—focus. Calculation. Patience.


Later that afternoon, the polished corridors of YOD Enterprise reflected his silhouette as he walked toward the weapons bay. The company had begun as a defense manufacturer, a legitimate front to rebuild his life. Now it had grown into a sprawling enterprise, respected in international markets. To the world, Hemant was a businessman. Inside these walls, he was still a warrior.


The weapons bay hummed with controlled energy. Targets lined the far wall. Racks of firearms gleamed under white lights. Hemant selected a Vector assault rifle first, checking its balance, its weight, its response. He raised it, exhaled, and fired. The first round pierced the center of the target. Then another. And another. His movements were fluid, mechanical, honed by years of survival.


Next came the custom Masada fitted with an ACOG scope. He adjusted the optics, narrowed his eyes, and shifted to long-range drills. Each shot landed with surgical precision. To him, these weren’t just exercises. They were rehearsals. Every trigger pull was a practice run for Tabarja. For narrow corridors. For armed guards. For chaos.


Between drills, fragments of memory slipped through his defenses—Ricky laughing over late-night meals in Shanghai, Father Dominic’s gentle voice echoing through Saint Michael’s Church. 
 
"Sometimes its good to let go.."

Hemant had believed it then. Now, he wasn’t so sure. Some debts could only be paid in blood. He lowered the rifle and stared at the shattered targets. They looked like hollow silhouettes now, riddled with holes, erased. That was how he imagined Amir and Lai—reduced from legends to footnotes. Not out of hatred. Out of necessity. AZRAEL had taken too much. It was time they lost everything.


As evening fell over Mumbai, Hemant stood alone in the weapons bay, surrounded by silence and steel. His body was exhausted. His mind was razor-sharp. The path ahead was dangerous, almost suicidal. A fortified mountain base. A ruthless general. A desperate fugitive with nothing left to lose.

But Hemant didn’t hesitate.

This was only the beginning.

Amir Hassan and Lai Tong were first on his list. After them, every remaining shadow of AZRAEL would fall. One by one. Systematically. Relentlessly.

And when it was over, only then would Hemant will truly start to live!


FEW DAYS LATER


Night settled over Mumbai like a held breath as Hemant disappeared into the lower levels of YOD Enterprise. This floor didn’t exist on any official blueprint. Concrete walls were lined with aging monitors, satellite feeds, and physical archives scavenged from conflicts long forgotten. Lebanon glowed on a central screen, the mountains of Tabarja rising like jagged teeth. This wasn’t a place you assaulted blind. This was a place you studied until it gave up its secrets.


Ancient schematics lay spread across a steel table—yellowed blueprints from the Ottoman era, scanned and reconstructed from European war archives. Hidden aqueducts. Smuggler tunnels carved centuries ago. Emergency escape routes designed for pashas and generals who never trusted their own men. Hemant traced the lines with his finger, memorizing every curve, every choke point. Fortresses were arrogant things. They always believed their walls were enough.


Raquel stood across from him, arms folded, eyes sharp. He had pulled the schematics from places that didn’t officially exist anymore—defunct intelligence agencies, private collectors, and one monastery archive that had required more persuasion than money. 

"This tunnel here, it collapsed on the surface during the civil war. But underground? It’s still intact. Leads straight under the eastern barracks" 

Raquel said, tapping a narrow passage marked in faded ink, 

Hemant nodded slowly. 

"That’s our exit, if anything goes wrong" he said. 

Raquel didn’t move. 

“Everything will go wrong, Bhaijaan. Which is why I’m coming with you" 

He corrected. The words hung heavy between them. Hemant turned sharply. 

“No. I won’t risk you. Not for this. I need you here. If I don’t come back—" 

There was no anger in his voice—only finality. Raquel stepped forward. 

"You will come back"

"That’s not the point. My job is to protect what’s left. And I cannot risk you Raquel like this"

Hemant’s jaw tightened. Raquel’s eyes didn’t waver. 

"You don’t get to make that choice alone" His voice dropped, steadier now. 

"I made a vow. When it mattered—when you walked back into the fire—I’d be there. Same as before"

The room went quiet.

Hemant turned away, fists clenched against the table. For a moment, the fortress maps blurred, replaced by another image—another battlefield. Raquel’s older brother bleeding out in his arms years ago, breath rattling, eyes still defiant even as life slipped away. Michael King had held him then. Powerless. Too late again.

"I won’t watch you die like he did" Hemant said quietly. 

"I won’t carry that weight. Not again"

Raquel’s voice softened, but it didn’t break. 

"Because of my brother is exactly why I’m coming. I lost him in your arms. I won’t lose you from a distance" 

He stepped closer. 

"You’re not alone anymore. Don’t push me out"

Hemant exhaled slowly, the fight draining out of him. He looked at Raquel then—not as a lieutenant, not as a soldier—but as family. Someone who stood by him, despite the darkness, despite the cost. Emotion surfaced, raw and unwelcome, tightening his chest.

"Alright, but you follow my lead. Always" Hemant said at last. 

"Always" Raquel gave a small, firm nod. 

Later, as weapons were prepped and gear laid out with ritualistic precision, Hemant’s mind betrayed him. Sonarika’s face surfaced uninvited—older now in his memory, harder around the edges. He had told himself she was a closed chapter. Yet the past had a cruel sense of timing. Recently events had revealed something he never expected: Manush Rustom and Jagjeet Sharma had been friends long before Hemant ever existed in their lives.

That connection was a fuse burning backward toward him.

If Sonarika learned who Michael King truly was—learned how deep the blood ran—there would be no neutral ground. No quiet understanding. She might see him as a threat. As poison. And worst of all, she could take Karan away. For good.

That fear sat heavier than any fortress, any syndicate, any underworld.

Hemant paused, resting his hands on the edge of the table, eyes closed. He had survived gangs, syndicates, wars, and ghosts. But the thought of losing his son—of being erased from Karan’s life—terrified him in a way nothing else could.

Still, he straightened.

Lebanon awaited. Amir Hassan. Lai Tong. AZRAEL.

One battle at a time, he reminded himself.

But somewhere deep down, Hemant knew—this journey wouldn't just decide who lived or died. It would decide what parts of his past would forever be imprinted on him.

                                                                                                                             (CHAPTER TO BE CONTD)

[Harry Jordan]

                                                                                                     (CHAPTER CONTD)

THE NEXT EVENING IN AMSTERDAM



The train from Amsterdam hummed smoothly toward Zandvoort, its windows reflecting streaks of late afternoon light. Hemant sat by the glass, phone in hand, replaying the short video Pranitha had posted hours earlier. The wind had tangled her hair as she laughed into the camera, the North Sea rolling behind her. The black bikini she wore contrasted sharply against her sun-kissed skin, every movement effortless, confident.

It wasn’t just desire that stirred in him—it was anticipation long deferred. Months of charged conversations. Playful late-night confessions. A tension that had never been given a body.

When the train pulled into Zandvoort aan Zee station, his pulse was no longer steady. He stepped onto the platform dressed simply—white half-sleeve shirt, denim jeans, sunglasses pushed into his collar. The North Sea breeze greeted him with a cool bite as he dragged his trolley toward the shore.

Sand resisted his steps, swallowing the wheels of his bag, slowing him down. But his focus was elsewhere. He remembered her teasing mention of the nude section of the beach during their last call. 

"How romantic and erotic would it be if you one day.....walked here.....laid me down on the sand.....ripped my bikini off.....and fucked me senseless!!!" 

She had said, her tone light but loaded. He had ignored it then. Now, he wondered if she meant for him to follow that clue. He passed beach pole 68, where the atmosphere shifted subtly—quieter, more private. The stretch of sand ahead seemed almost deserted, the vast horizon tinted gold by the lowering sun. For a brief second, doubt flickered through him. Had he misread everything? Had this surprise been foolish?

Then he saw her.

A solitary figure emerging from the sea.



Pranitha walked through the shallow water toward the shore, droplets trailing down her body, the setting sun igniting her silhouette in amber light. The black bikini clung to her curves, and every step was unhurried, unaware. She looked untouchable—like a vision sculpted by light and tide.

Something primal surged through him.

He let the trolley fall. The briefcase slipped from his hand, forgotten in the sand. He moved toward her without thinking, without planning—just instinct.

It was only when he was close enough to hear the water break around her ankles that she noticed him. Her eyes widened in disbelief, breath catching.

"Hemant… you’re he—"

He didn’t let her finish.

He closed the distance and kissed her.

The contact was electric—raw, sudden, months of restraint collapsing into a single breathless moment. Her surprise melted quickly into hunger. Her fingers curled into his shoulders as she leaned into him, the sea wind tangling around them. The kiss deepened, slowed, then intensified again, like waves building and breaking.

She pulled back just enough to look at him, eyes dark, searching. 

"You came" she whispered, voice trembling with something deeper than shock.

"For you" he replied, barely audible.

Her hands moved to the buttons of his shirt, deliberate now. Each one undone felt like a boundary dissolving. He shrugged it off, the fabric falling into the sand, and his palms traced the curve of her waist, the warmth of her skin still heated by the sun. The world around them faded—the distant gulls, the soft murmur of the tide—until there was only breath against breath.


They didn't speak as they kissed harder and more intently than she thought she ever had done, feeling his hand slide up under her now loose bikini top to cup her breast, his fingers circling the nipple to make it stiffen and screw itself up as his other hand stroked her sides and back, reaching up to pull at her hair a little before diving down into the back of her bikini bottoms. Breaking apart, they both gave a gasp as his breast-cupping hand immediately pulled her half undone bikini top off over her head to leave her completely topless. She saw him take in her perky chest for a moment before they started kissing hotly again, this time both his hands going for her chest, groping her completely as her hands ran through his hair and down his muscular shoulders and back which are now exposed thanks to the discarded shirt, letting one drop down between them to land squarely on his already mighty erection.

She felt his hips push up a little as she wrapped her dainty hand around his manhood, taking a good grip on it and starting to work it a little to stroke him through his pants as he thoroughly squeezed and groped her breasts, though one hand very shortly slid down her tummy towards her bikini bottoms. Pranitha leaned back a little to offer him slightly better access, and the move wasn't lost on him at all as his hand pushed slowly but steadily down her toned body to her damp bikini bottoms, still wet from the sea but now getting a little wetter from something else. His fingers slid over the smooth, firm bulge of her pussy, feeling her quiver a little as they kissed whilst he started to massage it, then she let out a gasp round there smooches as he suddenly pulled up and then boldly pushed his hand down into her bikini and onto her pussy. She didn't have a problem with it, she was just taken by surprise as he did it, feeling her wonderfully smooth skin and tiny pubic hair under his fingers and hand as he did it, immediately seeking out her clit with his fingers, making her give a shiver and a gasp as he started working at it.

Getting into a rhythm on her needy clit, they continued to kiss deeply, their tongues entwining and working together, working between fast and slow kisses, getting more aggressive at moments which raised the stakes, such as when Pranitha's stroking hand reached up and undid his boxers, deftly releasing them and then slipping down inside to wrap her slim digits around his throbbing manhood. She immediately started to stroke him again, feeling simply sublime as she worked to get his boxers down a bit, making their kisses really climb in intensity as his hand worked both her pussy and her breasts, pulling and pinching at her now very hard nipples as he circled her clit, before his hand dove deeper into her bikini bottoms as his fingertips slipped over her juicy, leaking entrance, making her shiver. He wasted no time whatsoever in curling his finger to press his middle finger into her haven, bending his hand to let him push his whole finger up into her wonderfully hot, slippery pussy, Pranitha sighing satisfiedly with an open smile as she helped by pressing down onto him completely while he nibbled at her lip.

She gave a murmur of pleasure as she locked into more kissing with him, her hand giving a good squeeze of his cock, making it surge in her hand, urging her to stroke him a little faster for a moment, not wanting to rush him as she started to ride just a little on his penetrating finger. Pulling his hand back, she gave a grunt as he quickly added a second, stretching her open a little bit more, but still not as much as his decent sized cock would do, feeling his thick member pulsing in her hand as she stroked him carefully, ready to get it inside her now. He worked his fingers in her pussy, hooking back to seek her G-spot, making her feel the deep, rumbling sensations of pleasure inside her that such stimulation caused, her pussy getting even wetter round his fingers.

Kissing passionately, Pranitha almost didn't realise what he was doing as his fingers slipped out of her and his arms locked around her smooth back under her arms, suddenly pulling her forwards into his lap. They just worked perfectly in sync, Pranitha spreading her thighs and pulling her legs up to wrap them round his hips, dropping her spare hand to her crotch as she continued to squeeze him as he pulled her into place. Pulling her bikini aside, she held his cock up for herself, absolutely granite hard and waiting for her as she pushed up with her thighs, rocking her hips a moment to work him between her puffy lips before she sank down, his bulbous head popping into her incredibly wet, soft pussy with the slightest pressure, both of them gasping at the fantastic feeling. His hand slid up her arched back and grabbed a handful of her long, dark hair, pulling her down harder so her pussy swallowed his entire cock, Pranitha grabbing Hemant's shoulders as she shuddered at him pressing deep into her.

Grinding together a moment, they just breathed heavily at their connection and then resumed their heavy kissing, tongues fighting even more aggressively now. Pranitha lifted herself on his cock, right to the head, before pushing down once more, feeling him shake beneath her, his hands sliding down to her hips now to control the pace. Helping to lift her, Hemant also thrust up into her as he pulled her down, quickly governing and building a quick, deep rhythm that had his cock stretching and probing areas deep inside the Mehta family princess she'd forgotten were there. Their kisses became hungry, gasping efforts as they fucked, their bodies fitted together so perfectly as they fornicated, kissing and biting at each others necks and shoulders, Pranitha's toes digging into the sand to gain leverage as they had sex right there in the ground.

That didn't last long however, as their rampant lust took over, and so did he. He pushed up from the sand with a turn and then slammed her down firmly on the beach, landing on top of her to pin her down and keep on fucking her, pushing her hair back from her face to kiss her further as he pumped his hips deeply between her toned legs. She pulled him tightly over her, leaning over his shoulder as she gasped heavily for air, pushing and rolling her hips for him as they screwed on the beach, feeling the damp sand pressed into her back as he drilled her, just loving every moment and every inch of the passionate fuck she was getting.

Reaching down, Hemant hooked her legs up under the knees, pulling them up and spreading them open for him as he leaned up and started fucking her a little harder but slower, really working to jam his cock as deep and hard into her as possible, making her give a strained grunt with every one as his head bashed into her cervix. He was completely controlling her now, and she let him, laid flat on her back on the sand, looking up at him. She grunted as he slammed his cock deep and hard, making her feel at her limit but wonderfully tested. Their eyes met, locked together as he pumped in every last millimetre of his cock to her soft pussy, unable to get any more into her. Hemant gave a particularly hard thrust and Pranitha winced, her pussy clenching delightfully around him, squeezing at his cock and spurring him to pick it up. Pranitha just squealed in pleasure as Hemant pounded on her very hard, fast and deep for a few moments, absolutely overwhelmed by the smash-and-grab tactics on her womb.

With one deep thrust and a grind, he slipped himself out of her snatch, making her open her beautiful eyes to see why, to be greeted by his hands grabbing her bikini bottoms and pulling them down her legs, revealing her pussy and its nicely trimmed pubic hair. She had a nice shady outline of very short dark hair above her pussy. His eyes stayed locked on it as he pulled her black bikini off, allowing Pranitha to quickly take the initiative to pull her feet up and get her toes into Hemant's partially removed boxers, pushing them down his legs a bit to give him the hint to finish the job, discarding them onto the sand with her bottoms.

He suddenly grabbed her hand and pulled her up from the beach, and as she rocked to her knees he suddenly dropped onto his back and pulled her over his crotch, grinding onto his hard cock. Pranitha just gave a smile at Hemant's grin from sneakily pulling her on top and lifted herself up from him, letting his cock spring up behind her dripping, loosened pussy, loving how hard he was for her. Reaching back over her firm bum, she held him in position and then pushed back, making him thrust in response, allowing her wonderfully wet pussy to engulf his manhood as they both sighed deeply once more. There was no problem now in pushing herself all the way down on the first thrust, just sinking down to get all of him inside her, feeling him fit just right as she gave a shiver, his hands sliding to her hips. Looking down, she could see him looking up at her, her pretty face, long hair, perky but fleshy breasts, slim waist and thick, small dark V of hair, right above where her juicy snatch was wrapped tightly round his cock.

He gave a shudder and a groan as she squeezed her pussy as tight as possible on him, absolutely vice like, before she started to ride, holding his shoulders as his fingers trailed through her soft pubic hair. She arched her back to push her lovely boobs out towards him as he thrust up to meet her as she pushed down on his erection, building up the pace till she was pumping down hard on him, her tight ass slapping against his thighs. She knew she was doing something right for him as she rode, squeezing her pussy, as his hand grabbed at her breast, giving an enthusiastic grope, and at her firm ass, taking a good hold on it. Pranitha didn't mind, loving her body being worshipped in such a way as she rode Hemant's cock hard, leaning down to kiss him passionately, jolting her hips on his cock in short, sharp thrusts to work at his head, feeling him arch in pleasure beneath her. She moved down to him at his neck as she worked her hips, rolling and rotating them as much as possible to really stimulate the tip of his thick cock. Kneeling back up over him, she squeezed her pussy tight again, making him shiver, only this time she didn't release. She worked out, and could hold her muscles well, and with that she pushed down onto Hemant, feeling his rock hard cock drive up through her tight pussy, stretching her out as his hands grabbed her hips and pulled her down to make her take it, stirring up his dominance and lust once more.

Hemant quite forcefully pushed Pranitha off his cock, onto her knees on the sand beside him. Quickly pulling up to his knees himself, he pushed her down to all fours with an easy shove to her back, Pranitha evidently quite aware what Hemant wanted to do to her and happy to welcome it, feeling the sweat crawling on her sandy back. She gave a gasp as his hand connected hard with her ass, delivering a good spank to her firm rear, Pranitha was shocked , as she didn't expect Hemant to be a spanker. And then he grabbed her hips and pressed his cock to her juicy opening. She didn't wait for him, shoving back hard to get him inside her, feeling him almost fall over her back as he just slipped deeply into her silky haven, his cock surging inside her, hardening a little. Pranitha knew it wouldn't be long now, Hemant was close, and so was she.

"Ahh....ahhh....ahhh"

She gave a murmur of pleasure at the rough, scratching sensation of him brushing sand from her back as they built up a rhythm again quickly, pumping down into her, rubbing over her G-spot now and quickly making her orgasm gather inside her, making her realise she'd cum a lot sooner than she thought. She started to fuck back harder onto him, reaching down to give her clit a good, firm rub to take her close as fast as possible. Pranitha could tell by the way he was fucking her that Hemant was getting close, as he had a tight hold on her waist and was pumping vigorously into her and going deep into her pussy, not quite with the primal lust of an imminent climax but clearly close. It was a treat for her then that her orgasm was breaking on her now, and she withdrew her hand to dig it back into the sand with her other one, shoving back hard on him now to get him as deep as possible and spur him to pick up the pace.

"mhhmm.....ahhh.....mmm....mmmgghhmm"

She wasn't disappointed, as after few speechless moments of him pounding her like she'd never felt she burst into a huge orgasm, her whole body tightening up, back arching and pussy clenching on his invading cock. It didn't stop him though, he continued to slam against her ass, lighting her body up even more as her orgasm rushed through her, making her arms shake beneath her as she wailed her ecstasy to the secluded beach, crashing waves and soaking sweat. Both of them were absolutely dripping wet now from the sweat of their exertion, Pranitha feeling his fingers dig into her side as he suddenly pounded on her with the kind of primal lust she expected when he was about to cum. He was worried that she'd ask him to pull out, but was delighted and even more turned on when at the slightest hesitation she suddenly thrust back hard to take him, signalling that she was his to own and fill up.

"aahhh.....aahhh....aaahhh.....ahhhmmm"

Grabbing her waist hard he just went for it, letting instinct take over as he pounded on her, holding back as long as possible, hearing Pranitha screaming with pleasure as his hard fucking of her made her climax again immediately on the bounce in a multiple orgasm, her pussy pulsing and squeezing at Hemant, desperate for his sperm. As he reached his peak he fucked her harder and faster than he knew he could, almost knocking her face down in the sand he was so energetic, pushing up on his toes a bit before jamming himself hard into her, the hardest he had in their first ever session. Hemant felt something give a little inside her as he did, Pranitha knowing it as her cervix yielding, and then exploded deep inside her with a loud cry of release and pleasure, Pranitha loving it as his cock swelled even bigger and harder inside her velvet tunnel. She relished the feel of his cock repeating this several times as Hemant ejaculated heavily within her, shuddering and withdrawing a little then pulling her back by her hips to pull depth with each one, until with one last push, he relaxed, rocking back down on his heels and pulling her with him so she knelt, still embedded on his twitching, softening cock.

Pulling forward slowly, Pranitha slipped off his cock, hearing Hemant gasp as his now sensitive head slid past her tight entrance, though it wasn't so tight after the fucking he'd just given her. She dropped down onto the sand on her side, exhausted after how hard he'd just taken her, looking to him as he lowered himself down beside her, neither of them caring they lay naked on the beach, just pulling in close to one another and sharing a deep, soulful kiss to wrap up their fantastic shag in the wake of their fantastic orgasms. Cuddling close together, they just lay blissfully for a few minutes with each other. As the sun lowered toward the horizon, painting the sky in rose and molten gold, their movements came to a halt but now there was something deeper, more connected. A merging of desire and comfort, of vulnerability and strength.

For Hemant, who had lived so long in old nightmares and broken family darkness, this felt dangerously close to light.

And as the last edge of the sun dipped beneath the sea, he realized something unsettling—

This wasn’t just passion. It was attachment.

The drive from Zandvoort to Noordwijk was wrapped in a comfortable silence, broken only by the low hum of the engine and the occasional shared glance that reignited what they had just experienced. Sand clung stubbornly to their skin and clothes, evidence of a reckless, sun-soaked surrender neither of them regretted.

By the time they entered her hotel suite in Noordwijk, the evening light had softened into a pale silver glow through the tall windows. The room was elegant—muted tones, modern art, and the faint scent of jasmine drifting from somewhere unseen.

Pranitha shut the door behind them and leaned against it, studying him with a slow smile. 

"You’re joining me in the shower" she said, brushing sand from his shoulder.

Hemant arched a brow, though the answer was already written in his eyes. 

"I wouldn’t refuse" he replied quietly.

The bathroom was spacious, all glass and marble, steam rising as warm water cascaded from above. Under the spray, the last traces of sand dissolved, trailing away at their feet. Hemant let his gaze linger over her silhouette—every curve illuminated by the diffused light filtering through frosted glass. There was admiration in the way he looked at her, not just hunger.

Pranitha noticed the change in his breathing, the subtle shift in his posture. She stepped closer, fingertips tracing his chest with teasing deliberation. 

"Careful....We have plans tonight. A very high-profile party. I need you composed" 

She murmured, a playful warning in her tone. 

"You’re the one who insisted on this" He gave a low chuckle. 

"And I don’t regret it...but I do intend to show you off later" she replied smoothly. 

"I didn’t exactly pack for galas and champagne diplomacy" 

He leaned his forehead briefly against hers. She smiled with a confidence that only deepened his intrigue. 

"I know. Don’t worry—I've arranged something for you"

The steam thickened around them, conversation dissolving into touch once more—slower this time, less urgent than the beach, but no less intimate. The water traced paths over intertwined forms, and for a while, the world beyond the glass walls ceased to exist.
When they finally stepped out, wrapped in plush white towels, the mirror fogged behind them, Pranitha tilted her head mischievously. 

"Honestly...I prefer you like this. Just a towel. Saves me the trouble of undressing you later" 

She teased, eyeing him appreciatively, Hemant smirked. 

"Tempting. But I doubt my employees at YOD Enterprise would approve of that dress code"

She laughed, moving toward the garment rack near the bed. 

"Good thing this isn’t a company meet"

With a dramatic flourish, she revealed the outfit she had prepared—a dark velvet-silk textured suit, impeccably tailored, paired with a maroon velvet shirt beneath. The fabric caught the light with understated luxury.

"Try it" she urged.

Moments later, Hemant stood before the mirror, adjusting the cuff, studying his reflection. The deep tones sharpened his features, the cut of the suit emphasizing his frame. He looked less like a businessman escaping for pleasure and more like a man who commanded rooms without raising his voice.
The wardrobe door clicked open behind him.

He turned.

Pranitha stepped out wearing a maroon glittering dress that mirrored his palette perfectly. The fabric shimmered subtly with every movement, a high slit revealing the elegant line of her leg as she walked toward him. The dress hugged her form without excess, refined yet undeniably captivating.



For a moment, neither spoke. They simply admired each other.

"You planned this" he said softly.

"Of course...we're making an entrance together" she replied. 

She reached up, straightening his collar, then rose onto her toes to kiss him—slow, deliberate, filled with promise rather than urgency. It was the kind of kiss that said the night was only beginning.

When they pulled apart, their reflections stood side by side in the mirror—dark velvet and shimmering maroon, power and allure intertwined. Hand in hand, they turned toward the door, ready to step into the lights of a world that saw them only as elegance and influence. Neither of them spoke of what still burned beneath the surface.

They didn’t need to.

                                                                                                                                     (CHAPTER TO BE CONTD)

[Harry Jordan]

                                                                                                                 (CHAPTER CONTD)

SOMEWHERE AT THE HAGUE



The grand ballroom in The Hague shimmered beneath cascading chandeliers, crystal reflecting gold light across polished marble floors. Diplomats, industrialists, royalty-adjacent elites—every corner of influence seemed represented beneath that vaulted ceiling. Conversations overlapped in a refined hum, champagne flutes clinked, and a string quartet played something elegant and restrained.

And then Hemant and Pranitha entered.

Their arrival shifted the atmosphere almost instantly. Heads turned—not subtly, but openly. The dark velvet of Hemant’s suit absorbed the light while the maroon shimmer of Pranitha’s dress caught it, radiating it back in dazzling waves. Together, they looked less like guests and more like the evening’s centerpiece.

Whispers followed them as they moved through the crowd.

"That’s Hemant Kumar right?… of YOD Enterprise?"

"Isn’t that Pranitha Mehta from REGALCORP?"

"They look extraordinary"

Pranitha handled the attention with practiced ease, her hand resting lightly on Hemant’s arm. He, in turn, carried himself with quiet command—offering nods, brief handshakes, measured smiles. To the world, he was a visionary businessman expanding global partnerships.

But across the room, someone had gone completely still.

Hakim Khaled stood near the far balcony, a glass suspended mid-air in his trembling hand. The Algerian trader had navigated shadow economies for decades, thriving in grey markets between legality and crime. His eyes weren’t on Pranitha. They were locked entirely on Hemant.

No.

Not Hemant.

Michael King.

The name thundered inside his skull.

Hakim had believed him dead—someone long buried after the massacre of the Rustom family in Azerbaijan. That bloodbath of the Zarirs had shaken entire underground networks. Michael King’s disappearance afterward had cemented the myth. Some said he was killed. Others said he simply vanished.

But here he was.

Alive.

Refined.

Smiling in public.

The urban legend of the archangel vigilante had just walked into a ballroom.

Hakim’s pulse spiked violently. Stories of Michael King’s hunts resurfaced in his memory—the systematic takedowns of overlords who thought themselves untouchable. Cartels dismantled overnight. Crime lords vanishing without warning. The legend had grown with time, becoming something closer to folklore.

And now Hakim felt something he hadn’t felt in years.

Fear.

At that exact moment, Hemant’s gaze shifted.

Their eyes met.

It lasted barely a second—but for Hakim, it felt eternal.

In that instant, he wasn’t looking at a businessman.

He was looking at a predator who had just identified his prey. The Archangel has found his sinner!

Hakim’s mind spiraled. He imagined Michael recognizing him, recalling past dealings, connecting threads long buried. The hallucination deepened—he could almost see the faint, knowing smirk of the vigilante who dismantled empires.

The glass slipped from his hand.

It shattered on the marble floor.

A nearby waiter flinched as Hakim stumbled backward, colliding into a tray of champagne flutes. Crystal cascaded, drinks splashed across silk gowns, and a ripple of shocked murmurs spread through the ballroom.

"What on earth is his problem?" Pranitha leaned closer to Hemant. 

Hemant watched Hakim retreat, his expression almost amused. 

"Too much champagne, perhaps" he said lightly. 

"Some men lose their balance when the night overwhelms them"

But his eyes followed every frantic step.

Hakim nearly tripped over his own shoes as he rushed toward the exit, pushing past guests, ignoring the staff calling after him. By the time he reached his car, his breathing was ragged.

He drove recklessly toward his luxury villa near Ockenburgh beach, the coastline dark and windswept under the night sky. Once inside, he descended to the basement—a converted control center lined with monitors, encrypted communication systems, and weapon crates.

He grabbed his secure phone and dialed.

Within minutes, several lethal operatives answered—men accustomed to clean, efficient elimination jobs.

"I want him dead tonight" Hakim hissed. 

"Hotel name, room number—I’m sending it now"

One of the assassins paused. 

"And the woman with him?"

"Kill her too" Hakim didn’t hesitate.

He ended the call and turned toward the monitors, watching as his men armed themselves. Assault rifles checked. Suppressors fitted. Vehicles prepared.

Hakim sank into his leather chair, sweat still damp on his collar despite the cold room.

For years, he had feared Michael King might return.

Tonight, he would make sure the legend ended.

Upstairs, miles away, the party still sparkled under chandeliers—unaware that somewhere in the shadows of The Hague, a hunt had just been declared.

And the ghost had been recognized.


BACK AT THE BALLROOM


The ballroom in The Hague had grown livelier as the night deepened. Conversations were looser, laughter louder, and clusters of influence shifted like constellations under chandeliers. Hemant and Pranitha moved effortlessly through it all, pausing for photographs, exchanging introductions, and collecting invitations disguised as compliments.

Near the central gallery, a familiar ripple passed through the crowd.

Two figures stood framed beneath a cascade of warm light—Alia Bhatt and Kiara Advani.



Alia looked radiant in a black saree paired with a gold short-sleeved blouse intricately embroidered, the fabric dbangd in a way that accentuated her graceful, hourglass silhouette. There was an effortless confidence in her posture, a charm that had made her a sensation both on-screen and off. Kiara, beside her, shimmered in a full gold saree with delicate embroidery, the light catching every subtle movement. Petite, poised, and luminous—she carried herself with quiet magnetism.

"Well, that’s unexpected" Pranitha’s eyes sparkled. 

Introductions were quick and warm. Alia’s smile widened as she looked Hemant over with playful curiosity.

"You two are stealing the spotlight tonight" she said, her tone light but undeniably flirtatious. 

"Careful, or we’ll have to compete"

"I wouldn’t dare compete with legends" Hemant offered a measured grin. 

"Flattery works. Keep going" Alia laughed softly. 

Kiara glanced at him, her smile gentler, a little shy but intrigued. 

"You clean up very well" 

She added, almost as an aside, though her eyes lingered a second longer than necessary.

Pranitha observed the exchange with amused calm, her hand resting possessively yet casually at Hemant’s side. 

"I did pick the suit" she said with a playful tilt of her head.

"Clearly, you have excellent taste" Alia replied, raising her glass.

The four of them shared easy banter—cinema, business, travel, the peculiar overlap between power and publicity. Hemant noticed how naturally Pranitha fit into this circle—no awe, no performance. She belonged here. And tonight, so did he.

When the party eventually thinned and the night air outside turned crisp, Hemant and Pranitha returned to their hotel suite, heels and dress shoes clicking softly across polished floors.

The door closed behind them.

Pranitha kicked off her heels first, stretching slightly before turning to him with an expression that was half amusement, half confession.

"There’s something I didn’t tell you"

Hemant loosened his cufflinks. 

"I knew it....those ladies were oogling me in a different way"

She walked closer, fingers trailing along his lapel. 

"Well....we had plans for a private slumber party. Just me, Alia, and Kiara"

He blinked.

"Slumber party?" he repeated carefully.

She smiled at his reaction. 

"Okay fine......we were planning for a night of fucking....I was meant to have a night of carnal pleasure with these beautiful ladies!!" 

Her gaze sharpened slightly. Hemant was momentarily silent, processing.

"And my arrival ruined this?" he asked.

"On paper yes......but it doesn't have to be ruined you know" 

She laughed softly. Her fingers slipped into his hand. 

"I was thinking—why not make it more interesting? After all today was indeed a special day for me because you are here so.....why don't you help me with the party and tag along?"

There it was. An invitation not just to a foursome—but to her world.

Hemant had known Pranitha’s lifestyle leaned toward the bold, the elite, the unashamedly open. He had admired that about her from a distance. Tonight, he was being offered not just a front-row seat. But to participate with her

"If you mean tag along by indulging with those lovely ladies.....I am quiet nervous considering you are around" 

He admitted slowly.

"That’s fair"

He studied her face—confident, expectant, but not pressuring. This wasn’t recklessness. It was choice. Exploration. Trust.

"I was skeptic about your lifestyle and...."

"And now?" she asked softly.

A faint, dangerous smile curved at the edge of his mouth. 

"Now I’m curious"

Her eyes darkened with satisfaction.

"You’ll be fine.....just do the stuff you did with Ananya...though not with Kiara as she is a shy type.." 

"Ugghh....don't tell me she will also call me Daddy"

"Don't worry.....Alia just prefers her partner to be strong and powerful in bed....she doesn't care about wordplay and other kinks...."

She murmured. He stepped closer, lowering his voice. 

"You seem to be too excited regarding this night"

Pranitha rose onto her toes, brushing her lips near his ear.

"Lets just say after that mind blowing performance at the beach I wanna watch my man perform!!!"

The air between them shifted again—charged, anticipatory.

For Hemant, who had navigated wars, syndicates, and assassins without flinching, this felt like stepping into a different but familiar kind of unknown.

And strangely— He wasn’t afraid of it anymore.

Hemant stood by the floor-to-ceiling window, Noordwijk’s night lights twinkling like scattered diamonds below, but his focus was fractured. The memory of the party—the sly glances, the brush of silk against his arm, the way Alia Bhatt’s eyes had held his while her lips curved around a suggestive compliment—still buzzed under his skin.

Pranitha emerged from the bedroom, having shed her couture gown for a sheer black robe. Her smile was a knowing, wicked thing. 

"Nervous?" she asked, her voice a low purr.

"A little" Hemant admitted, turning to face her. The revelation of her planned 'slumber party' with the two Bollywood stars had been a shock, but the kind that sent a jolt of pure, unadulterated heat straight to his core. Pranitha’s world, the secret lifestyle of the elites, was now his to taste.

"Like I said , be the  'Alpha' Kumar Mrunal and Ananya are talking about" 

She glided closer, her fingers tracing the line of his jaw. 

"Tonight, Alia and Kiara will be part of your secret shenanigans. Consider it my gift!"

A soft knock at the suite door made his heart thump. Pranitha answered, and there they were. Alia, radiant and confident in a simple silk slip that did nothing to hide the famous, tempting curve of her hourglass figure. Kiara, a vision in gold-embroidered silk pajamas, her doe eyes wide with a shyness that was somehow more alluring than any boldness.

"We thought maybe we should give the lovebirds their privacy" 

Alia said, her grin playful as she stepped inside, her gaze locking onto Hemant. Pranitha laughed, a rich, unfettered sound. 

"Oh, no. No walking back now. A commitment is a commitment"

"And how, exactly, does this work?" Alia’s eyes sparkled. 

Pranitha’s only answer was that same, enigmatic grin. Next things you know , Alia Bhatt , one of the biggest actresses of Bollywood was laying nude and bare in Pranitha's king sized bedroom. Alia was moaning profusely as Pranitha had buried her face between her legs. They were a tangle of bare limbs on the crisp white sheets. Eventually Pranitha came above after glistening Alia's pussy lips with her saliva ,  Pranitha straddled Alia’s hips, their mouths meeting in a kiss that was all hunger and no hesitation. Their lips moved with a practiced, mad passion. Alia’s hands gripped Pranitha’s back, pulling her closer. The sound of their kissing, wet and deep, filled the room. When they finally broke apart, Alia groaned, her head falling back. 

"God, woman. I thought you’d be all over your man tonight. Proven wrong again"

Their attention—was ripped away by a soft, shuddering gasp.

Beside them, Kiara was laying nude and bare voicing out a choked, beautiful moan. Her nerves were on fire as Hemant was between her legs eating her out. He feasted on her. His tongue explored her folds, firm and deliberate, before circling the tight, desperate bud of her clit. Kiara’s hips jerked off the bed. A high, keening sound escaped her lips. Her hands fisted in the sheets, then flew to his hair, not pushing him away but holding him there.

"Damn....I guess he knows what he is doing!" 

Alia murmured, propping herself up on an elbow to watch, her own arousal evident in her flushed skin and heavy-lidded eyes. Pranitha chuckled, her gaze drinking in the sight of her man between the actress’s legs.

"He might have some skills I need to investigate later" Pranitha mused, her voice husky. 

"I was already smitten by him after the pounding he gave me this evening at the nude beach"

"I love a good pounder" 

Alia grinned, wicked and wild.  Then she lay back, spreading her own legs.  Pranitha’s eyes lit with fire. She slid down Alia’s body, replacing the space between her thighs with her mouth. The room dissolved into a symphony of wet, sucking sounds and escalating moans. Hemant doubled his efforts on Kiara, licking and sucking with a focused intensity, driven by the competitive energy and the sheer, overwhelming sensation of the woman unraveling beneath him. Kiara was no longer silent. Her moans were continuous now, a melodic, broken stream of pleasure as she arched her back, pressing herself harder against his mouth.

Beside them, Alia was vocal, her groans deeper, more guttural. 

"Yes, just like that… fuck, right there!" 

Her hand found Kiara’s, and their fingers laced together, a bond of shared, overwhelming sensation. Hemant could feel Kiara tightening, her inner muscles fluttering around his probing tongue. Her cries became sharper, more urgent. He slid two fingers inside her, curling them, and her entire body bowed off the mattress. 

"Hemant!" she cried out his name as both a prayer and a curse.

It was a close contest, but Pranitha won. With a final, powerful suck on Alia’s clit, she sent the actress over the edge. Alia’s scream was raw and loud as her orgasm ripped through her, her body convulsing under Pranitha’s relentless mouth.

The sound seemed to trigger Kiara’s own climax. With a final, drawn-out lick, Hemant pushed her into the abyss. Her orgasm wasn’t loud; it was a total physical collapse. Her moan cut off into a silent, open-mouthed gasp. Her body spasmed over and over again, her grip on his hair becoming almost painful, her thighs trembling violently against his ears. For a long moment, she simply shook, waves of pleasure coursing through her until she finally went limp, breathing in ragged, shallow pants.

As she slowly floated back, her voice was a dazed, breathless whisper. 

"I… I felt like my soul was sucked out"

Alia, recovering beside her, laughed weakly, her body still humming. 

"Join the club, darling" 

She turned her head, her gaze landing on Hemant, now kneeling between Kiara’s splayed legs, his mouth glistening. Her eyes, dark with renewed hunger, traveled down his body. Alia breathed, her grin returning, full of promise. The silence that followed Kiara’s breathless confession was soft, filled with the hum of afterglow. She shifted, a delicate blush coloring her cheeks as she looked from Hemant to Pranitha. 

"I… I’m not on the safest day for it" she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. 

"I can’t do penetrative sex tonight. Not… not the risky kind" 

Her doe eyes flickered with a mix of disappointment and genuine sorrow. 

"It feels unfair. To him, and to me. I want… more"

Hemant, still kneeling on the bed, felt a surge of protective warmth. He reached out, brushing a strand of hair from her damp forehead. 

"It’s okay, Kiara. There are no rules here except pleasure"

It was then that he moved to sit back on his heels, and as he did, the full, rigid length of his arousal was unveiled, standing thick and proud against his abdomen. A collective, sharp intake of breath filled the room.

Alia’s eyes, already dark with hunger, widened. A slow, predatory grin spread across her face. "Well, hello" she purred, her gaze locked on him. 

"I’m calling dibs on the real thing. No offense, darling" she added, nodding to Pranitha.

Pranitha simply chuckled, already sliding off the bed. 

"None taken. I have other plans" 

She moved to a sleek, expensive-looking overnight case, retrieving a harness and a sizable, realistic dildo made of deep, flesh-toned silicone. She began strapping it on with practiced ease. 

"Kiara, my sweet, you may not get the real meat tonight, but I promise you’ll feel filled"

Kiara watched, a new kind of nervous excitement replacing her shyness as Pranitha approached, the strap-on swaying with each step. 

"Just… gentle, please? I like it slow"

"Of course" 

Pranitha whispered, kneeling between Kiara’s freshly splayed thighs. She guided the silicone tip, slick with a dab of lube from the nightstand, to Kiara’s entrance. 

"Just relax. Tell me what feels good"

As Pranitha began to press forward, a low, trembling moan escaped Kiara’s lips. The sound was soft at first, then grew, blooming into the room as Pranitha slowly, inch by exquisite inch, sheathed herself inside the actress. 

"Ohhh… oh, Pranitha…"

The moans were soon joined by a different, more urgent sound: Hemant’s low, ragged grunts.

Alia hadn’t waited. She’d crawled to him, her small hands wrapping around the base of his shaft, her eyes locked on his as she took him into her mouth. She was, as her reputation might suggest, an artist. There was no tentative exploration. She took him deep, her throat relaxing in a way that made his vision blur, then pulled back, her tongue swirling around the crown in tight, torturous circles before diving down again. She used her hands in tandem, twisting and stroking what her mouth couldn’t take. It was a symphony of sensation—wet, warm, and unbearably skilled.

Hemant’s hips jerked involuntarily. He could feel the explosive pressure building at the base of his spine, far too quickly. She’s going to make me come just like this. With a groan of effort, he tangled his hands in her dark hair and gently but firmly pulled her off. A string of saliva connected her swollen lips to his glistening tip.

"Hey, I wasn’t done—" Alia looked up, her expression one of mock indignation. 

He didn’t let her finish. In one fluid motion, he pushed her onto her back, her body sinking into the mattress. He loomed over her, lining the broad, leaking head of his cock against her soaked folds. He rubbed it through her slickness, teasing her entrance, feeling her body tremble beneath him.

"Don’t… don’t tease m—" Alia squirmed, a frustrated growl in her throat. 

He didn’t.

He pushed forward, not with a slow entry, but with one powerful, driving thrust that buried him to the hilt in one stroke.

"AAAAGHHHHH!"

Alia’s scream was one of pure, shocked sensation—a cry torn from her lungs at the sudden, complete fullness. Her back arched, her nails digging into his shoulders. For a moment, he stayed there, embedded fully, letting them both feel the incredible, clutching tightness of her. Then he began to move. Slow, deliberate pulls back, then pushes forward, each stroke a deep, measured conquest.

"Fuck… fuck" Alia panted, her head thrashing side to side. After a few of these deep, possessive thrusts, she managed to turn her head toward Pranitha, who was steadily rocking into a now-moaning Kiara. 

"Ahh...ahhh...No wonder…ahaa… you fancy him…ahh...so much...mhmm..Pranitha!"

Pranitha, her own breathing labored, laughed. 

"Don’t go easy on her, Hemant! Just like Ananya, she prefers her men to dominate her"

That was all the signal he needed.

The slow, steady pace began to quicken. The sound in the room changed. The wet, rhythmic slide of flesh against flesh grew louder, faster. It was soon underscored by the sharp, percussive thwup… thwup… THWUP of his balls slapping against her ass with every deep drive. Alia’s moans escalated into continuous, ragged cries, each thrust punching the air from her lungs.

Kiara, lost in the sensation of Pranitha’s steady thrusts, was pulled from her haze by the sheer, visceral violence of the sound next to her. She turned her head, eyes wide, watching the powerful muscles in Hemant’s back and ass coil and release with animalistic grace. She was flabbergasted. He moves like a beast.

Her attention was brutally redirected when Pranitha, inspired by the sight, unconsciously picked up her own pace, thrusting harder into Kiara’s yielding body.

"Ah! Pranitha, slower" Kiara gasped, her hands coming up to press against Pranitha’s hips. 

"Not… not so hard. Please"

Pranitha immediately softened her movements, returning to a gentle, deep rhythm, but her eyes remained fixed on her husband. He was glistening now, a sheen of sweat coating his powerful form. Droplets fell from his chin and chest, landing on Alia’s heaving breasts and flushed face, mingling with her own sweat. They were a mess of slick, straining bodies.

Eventually, with a guttural sound, Hemant rolled onto his back, pulling Alia with him so she now straddled his hips. 

"Your turn" he grunted.

Alia needed no further invitation. She rose on her knees, then sank down onto him with a force that made them both cry out. She set a furious, punishing pace, riding him with a wild abandon that made her dark hair fly around her shoulders. Sweat droplets flew from her skin, catching the low light like tiny diamonds.

"She’s… so wild" Kiara watched, stunned. 

Pranitha, still moving gently inside her, nodded. 

"That’s his specialty. It’s never just one person in control. For him, it’s mutual. A shared… fucking"

Alia, hearing them, threw her head back with a hoarse laugh. 

"She’s… ah!… damn right! I’m the luckiest woman… oh god… on this planet right now!" 

But her bravado was fading, her movements becoming more ragged, her powerful thighs trembling with strain. She was exhausted, dripping sweat, but utterly consumed. The climax, when it hit her, was cataclysmic. Her body locked, her back bowing in a sharp arc. A raw, shattered scream tore from her throat as she came, her inner muscles clamping down on Hemant’s cock in a series of vicious, milking pulses. 

"FUCK! YES! YOU… ARE… SO… GOOD!"

She spasmed, her pussy gripping him like a vise, but Hemant wasn’t done. The feel of her climax triggered his own urgent need. In a swift motion, he flipped her onto her back again, returning to missionary. He didn’t slow. He pounded. Deep, hard, relentless strokes that hammered into her oversensitive core while she was still convulsing in the aftershocks.

Alia’s screams died into choked, silent gasps. Her eyes rolled back, her body jerking uncontrollably beneath his assault. She was being pushed past pleasure, into a realm of sheer, overwhelming sensory overload.

Kiara’s own release came then, a soft, trembling wave that made her cry out and cling to Pranitha, who held her through it, spent from her own efforts.

Hemant saw stars. The coiling pressure snapped. With a final, animalistic groan that seemed to come from the depths of his soul, he buried himself to the hilt and erupted. His hips jerked forward in short, sharp pulses as he emptied himself inside her in thick, hot bursts. Alia’s body, already in a state of shocked bliss, could only take it. Her eyes were shut, her mouth slack. Not a sound emerged.

He collapsed on top of her, both of them slick and heaving. A moment of heavy silence passed.

Pranitha, disentangling herself from a blissful Kiara, peered over. Alia was utterly still, her breathing deep and even. 

"Is she…?" Kiara whispered, worried.

Pranitha leaned closer, then giggled, a sound of pure delight. 

"She’s fine. Look at her. Hemant didn’t just fuck her. He fucked the soul right out of her body. She’s just…..enjoying the bliss of that powerfully satisfying sex!!"

                                                                                                                  (CHAPTER TO BE CONTD)

[Harry Jordan]

                                                                                                                    (CHAPTER CONTD)

A few hours later, Pranitha’s hotel suite was wrapped in an eerie stillness.

Moonlight filtered through sheer curtains, casting pale silver lines across the floor. The room bore the quiet aftermath of passion—discarded fabrics dbangd over chairs, champagne glasses resting half-finished, the air heavy with perfume and warmth. On the king-sized bed and adjoining lounge couch, Pranitha, Alia, and Kiara slept in peaceful disarray, their breathing soft and untroubled.

Outside the hotel’s perimeter, two black vans idled in the shadows.

Inside, well-suited men adjusted silencers, checked magazines, and pulled gloves over steady hands. One of them dialed a secure number.

In the basement control room of his Ockenburgh villa, Hakim Khaled answered immediately. Multiple live feeds flickered before him as several of the men activated body cameras.

"We’re in position" one whispered.

Hakim leaned closer to the screen. 

"The backdoor access is arranged. The manager has cleared the service corridor. You’ll reach their floor without disturbance"

He paused, eyes narrowing.

"According to inside scoop. There are four individuals in that suite" he added coldly. 

"One man.....and three women!"

"Understood"

"No exceptions. Kill everyone" Hakim’s voice turned glacial. 

The vans’ doors slid open silently. The men moved with disciplined precision through the hotel’s rear service entrance, guided by Hakim’s remote instructions. Within minutes, they reached the corridor outside the suite.

One assassin knelt, raising infrared goggles to his eyes.

He scanned the interior through thermal scope.

There was silence on the comm.

"Report" Hakim frowned. 

"Three heat signatures" the man whispered. 

"All stationary. Looks like… three women"

Hakim’s breath stalled.

"What?"

"No fourth signature. No male presence"

For a fraction of a second, the control room felt suffocating. Where was he? The lights in Hakim’s bunker flickered once. Then died. Darkness swallowed the room. Hakim grabbed his microphone, panic cracking through his composure. 

"Status! Report from the perimeter!"

No response.

Outside his villa, his bodyguards stood frozen—MP5s raised but hands trembling. Because beyond the gates, a wall of headlights had ignited the night. Dozens of vehicles formed a tightening ring around the estate. Engines hummed low. Doors opened in synchronized motion. Triad soldiers stepped out in disciplined silence, their customized QSZ-92 pistols fitted with suppressors glinting under the beams. The bodyguards tried to lift their weapons—

But they never squeezed the triggers. Muffled bursts split the air in rapid succession. One by one, Hakim’s guards dropped before they could even shout. The villa’s grand entrance creaked open under the glow of headlights. A towering silhouette emerged from the blinding light. Black shirt. Black trousers. Gloves fitted tightly around steady hands.

Hemant.

No.

Michael King.

He walked forward without hurry, stepping over fallen bodies as if they were debris in his path. A faint wind stirred his shirt as he reached a corpse, bent down, and removed a keycard from the man’s waist.

Inside, the basement door stood sealed. Michael swiped the card. The lock beeped. The instant it clicked open, two grenades rolled across the floor. Hakim’s remaining gunmen shouted and scattered—but there was nowhere far enough. The explosion tore through the bunker. Concrete cracked. Monitors shattered. Flames and smoke filled the chamber. When Hakim regained partial consciousness, ears ringing and vision blurred, he saw shapes moving through haze.

Michael walked through the smoke carrying a hatchet. What followed was not a battle. It was a rampage. The surviving men barely lifted their weapons before the hatchet found them. Bone splintered. Steel bit deep. Efficiency replaced fury; each strike deliberate, each movement final. Then Michael stopped before Hakim. Hakim tried to crawl back, blood soaking through his suit. 

"Wait—listen—we can negotiate. I’ll transfer everything. My businesses. Offshore accounts—"

Michael crouched slowly, eyes devoid of warmth.

"Rustom begged" he said quietly. 

"He begged for his family"

Hakim’s lips trembled.

"You watched" Michael continued. 

"You stood there in Azerbaijan and watched the Zarirs slaughter them"

The memory flashed in Hakim’s eyes. Michael rose.

"There was no mercy then"

The hatchet came down. Again. And again. Hakim’s screams echoed against shattered concrete, growing weaker with every blow until they dissolved into gurgled breaths and silence. Moments later, Sam Lin stepped through the smoke, surveying the carnage.

Hakim Khaled lay broken, bleeding out amid debris and bodies.

"Are you done?" The Redpole within the Triad faction asked calmly.

"One last thing" Michael wiped the blade clean against a fallen coat. 

Minutes later, the villa’s rooftop chimney bore a grim silhouette under the night sky. Hakim, barely conscious, was bound upright—left to feel every agonizing second as life slipped from him. Below, Michael stood beside a burning trash can. He removed his gloves, tossed them into the flames, and watched as they curled and blackened. Another name crossed off. Another soul erased from existence. But as the fire crackled and sirens wailed faintly in the distance, Michael King’s expression remained unchanged.

Hakim was just the beginning.

And AZRAEL’s reckoning had only just begun.

BACK AT PRANITHA'S SUITE

The hallway outside the suite was silent when Hemant returned.

He moved with practiced quiet, keycard sliding into place without a sound. Inside, the room was dim—only a bedside lamp casting a soft amber glow. The faint scent of perfume and wine still lingered in the air. Pranitha, Alia, and Kiara were asleep again, tangled in sheets that carried the warmth of the night’s indulgence.

Hemant slipped toward the main bathroom without disturbing them.

He turned on the shower, letting the water run hot. Steam rose quickly, blurring the mirror. Under the cascade, he stood still for a moment, allowing the heat to wash away the smell of smoke, of gunpowder, of blood. His knuckles bore faint redness. His shoulders carried tension not from passion—but from violence.

The first name from the list erased. Hakim Khaled was gone. When he stepped out, towel wrapped low around his waist, he paused. Pranitha was standing near the doorway in a silk robe, arms folded, watching him.

“Where did you go?” she asked softly.

Her tone wasn’t accusatory. It was curious. Concerned. He offered a faint, composed smile. 

"An old friend was passing through the city. Unexpectedly. I stepped out to meet him"

"At this hour?" she tilted her head.

"I didn’t want to wake you" he replied smoothly. 

"You looked… too peaceful"

"Is that supposed to be charming?" Her lips curved slowly. 

"It’s honest"

"You could’ve left a note" She stepped closer, eyes trailing over his damp skin. 

"I wasn't gonna go out all night....planned to return without any of you noticing" he murmured.

Her gaze darkened—not with suspicion, but with desire. 

"You thought I looked good asleep?"

"Very" he said quietly.

The robe slipped slightly off her shoulder as she closed the distance between them. 

"You have a way of saying things that make it hard to stay annoyed"

His hand found her waist. 

"Then don’t"

Whatever faint tension had existed dissolved instantly.

She pressed her lips to his—slow at first, testing, then deepening with renewed urgency. The kiss tasted of heat and possession, of unspoken questions left suspended in favor of sensation. Her fingers slid through his damp hair; his palms traced the curve of her back beneath silk.

They moved toward the bed without breaking contact.

The sheets welcomed them again, soft and warm, and their movements were less reckless than before—more assured, more knowing. It wasn’t novelty anymore. It was connection layered over desire.

A quiet murmur escaped her lips as she pulled him closer, the robe forgotten somewhere on the floor. He responded not with haste, but with deliberate intensity—like a man who knew how fragile peace could be and wanted to claim it while it existed.

Eventually, the room returned to stillness once more.

They lay intertwined beneath the covers, the faint rhythm of distant city traffic filtering through the window. Nearby, the other women remained asleep, unaware of the storm that had passed beyond hotel walls.

Pranitha rested her head against his chest, fingers lazily tracing circles against his skin. 

"You disappear mysteriously" she whispered drowsily. 

"And then you come back like this"

"Like what?"

"Like you belong nowhere else"

He didn’t answer. Because his mind had already drifted elsewhere. Hakim’s name was off the list. One thread of vengeance tied. But others remained—The rest of AZRAEL. And beyond revenge, there were other questions now.

How long could he keep these worlds separated? How long before Pranitha saw the man beneath the tailored suits? How long before Sonarika uncovered the truth about his past? Hemant stared at the ceiling in the dim light, feeling the warmth of Pranitha against him, the rare stillness of a moment untouched by chaos.

He had crossed the first name off. The hunt had begun. But for the first time in years, he also felt something else forming alongside vengeance—A future that was way different than he anticipated!

The deep, velvety silence of the hotel suite was broken only by the soft, rhythmic breathing of four exhausted bodies. A sliver of moonlight cut across the vast bed, illuminating a landscape of tangled limbs and discarded silk. Hemant stirred, a deep-seated ache of satisfaction in his muscles, but a new, familiar heat was already coiling low in his belly. The scent of sex and sweat was a potent perfume in the still air.

He blinked, his eyes adjusting. At the far edge of the king-sized expanse, he saw movement. Pranitha was propped up on an elbow, her dark hair cascading over her shoulder as she leaned over a sleeping Alia. Her mouth was latched onto one of Alia’s pert, dusky nipples, sucking gently but insistently. Alia, in her partial consciousness, let out a soft, dreamy moan, her back arching slightly off the mattress, offering her breast more fully.

A jolt of pure, electric arousal shot through Hemant. God, she’s insatiable. He was surprised by the immediacy of his own renewed hardness, pressing insistently against the sheets. He turned his head and found Kiara sleeping soundly beside him, her nude body a warm, smooth curve in the dim light. The sight of her, so vulnerable and beautiful, was irresistible. He shifted closer, the heat of her skin radiating against him. He began to grind his erection slowly against the swell of her buttock, the friction delicious through the thin layer of dried sweat on their skin. He relished the feel of her—the soft give of her flesh, the smoothness of her skin.

"Pranitha" Hemant whispered, his voice rough with sleep and desire. 

"Let’s have sex. It’s not a safe night for Kiara, and I am a little horny…"

Pranitha detached from Alia’s nipple with a soft, wet pop. She glanced over, her eyes gleaming in the dark. She giggled, a low, husky sound. 

"I’m a little occupied, babe. You’ll have to wait your turn" 

She dipped her head again, her tongue swirling around Alia’s areola, eliciting another muffled groan. Hemant let out a frustrated sigh, his hips still moving in a slow, grinding rhythm against Kiara. A few minutes later, Pranitha looked up again, a mischievous smile playing on her lips. 

"You know....there are other ways to have sex on unsafe days. Places that are… always safe" 
She said, her voice a teasing sing-song, 

"What do you mean?" Hemant paused, confused for a moment. 

Pranitha chuckled softly, finally leaving Alia’s breast alone. She sat up, the sheet pooling around her waist. 

"I mean, there’s another place to stick that magnificent cock of yours in her" 

She nodded toward the still-sleeping Kiara. The implication dawned on him. 

"Anal? Has she… has she done it before?"

Pranitha’s grin was wide and knowing. 

"Hemant, she’s a Bollywood actress. Of course she’s done it. The question is, will you be her costar tonight?"

The idea sent a fresh wave of heat through him. He turned his full attention to Kiara. His hands, which had been resting on her hip, slid around to cup her small, perfect breasts. He thumbed her nipples, feeling them pebble into hard points under his touch. He leaned down and took one into his mouth, sucking gently, then with more pressure.

Kiara stirred with a soft sigh, then a sharp intake of breath as pleasure pierced her sleep. Her eyes fluttered open, hazy and confused for a second before focusing on him. 

"H-Hemant?"

Her whisper woke Alia, who blinked and stretched, noticing Pranitha now positioned between her thighs, her mouth already descending. 

"Next Round already?" 

Alia mumbled, a smile in her voice, before Pranitha’s tongue silenced her with a low moan.

Pranitha, while eating Alia out, reached for her overnight case again. This time, she pulled out a different toy—a double-ended dildo, longer and more flexible than the strap-on. She coated each end with clear lubricant, her eyes locked on Hemant’s progress.

Hemant focused on Kiara. He kissed her, deep and slow, letting her taste herself and him. 

"I am sorry Kiara" he murmured against her lips. 

"But I am really horny"

Kiara’s expression grew pensive, even as her body responded to his touch. She broke the kiss, her voice small. 

"I feel bad… that we couldn’t do it tonight.....its not just the unsafe days Hemant.....I’m actually scared. I saw how hard you fucked Alia. I felt the bed shake" 

She shivered. Hemant cupped her face, his thumb stroking her cheek. 

"Look at me, Kiara. I won’t do anything you don’t want. Ever. Your comfort, your pleasure… that’s the only rule"

She searched his eyes, seeing only earnest honesty. 

"I don’t mind the idea" she whispered. 

"I’ve… enjoyed it before. But the fear of pain, and your….your size…"

"We’ll go as slow as you need" he promised, his voice a low rumble. 

"I’ll make you feel every inch, and we stop the second you say"

The trust that blossomed in her doe eyes was breathtaking. She leaned in and kissed him, not with shyness, but with a sudden, passionate hunger that took him by surprise. Her tongue delved into his mouth, exploring, claiming. It was their first real kiss, and it was electric. He moaned into her, tasting her, savoring the softness of her lips.

When they parted, both were breathless. Without a word, Kiara gathered a mix of their saliva in her palm. She reached behind herself, her face flushing as she smeared the warm, slick fluid over the tight, pink pucker of her asshole. The contact made her shiver, a gasp escaping her.

Hemant positioned himself behind her, both on their sides in a spooning position. He guided his cock, rock-hard and throbbing, to her prepared entrance. The broad, spongy head pressed against her. 

"Breathe out, Kiara" he whispered.

Kiara exhaled in a shaky gust, and he pushed forward, just an incremental fraction. Her body resisted, a ring of intense, hot pressure clenching around the tip. He held still, letting her adjust. 

"Okay?" he breathed.

"Y-yesss...just slow" she gasped. 

He obeyed, feeding himself into her millimeter by agonizing millimeter. The sensation was incredible—a tight, velvety, scorching heat that hugged his shaft in a vice-like embrace. He watched her face, her eyes squeezed shut, her lips parted in a silent ‘O’. He saw the moment the sharp edge of pain began to blur into a feeling of intense, overwhelming fullness.

"Oh… god…" 

Kiara groaned, her head falling back against his shoulder as he finally, fully bottomed out inside her. She was stuffed, stretched to her limit, but the pain was already receding, replaced by a deep, aching fullness that bordered on pleasure. A single tear of intense sensation leaked from the corner of her eye.

Pranitha, now positioned with the double-ended dildo, had impaled herself on one end and was guiding the other into a moaning Alia. She saw Kiara’s tear and smiled. 

"How does he feel, Kiara? all of him wrapped inside you?"

"The… the best feeling… ever" Kiara’s voice was a strangled moan. 

Then Hemant began to move. This was a different Hemant. Gone was the dominant, pounding beast from hours before. His hips rolled with a tender, exquisite slowness. He withdrew almost completely, then slid back in with a gentle, rolling thrust that made Kiara whimper. He focused on the sensation—the incredible tightness, the way her body gradually began to accept him, to clench around him in a rhythm of its own.

Alia, getting fucked by Pranitha with the shared dildo, was stunned. She turned her head, watching the careful, loving rhythm of Hemant’s hips against Kiara’s backside. 

"Fuck" Alia breathed, her own pleasure momentarily forgotten. 

"Look at him. He’s… so different with her" She met Pranitha’s gaze. 

"No wonder he’s your man. The control… the adaptability"

Pranitha, driving the dildo into Alia with rough, deep strokes, could only nod, her own breaths coming in sharp gasps. Their session was a contrast—a fierce, competitive pounding of plastic and flesh, their moans and screams filling the air.

Kiara’s sounds were different. Soft grunts, sharp intakes of breath, low moans that sometimes edged into a pained gasp. Every time she made that sound, Hemant would freeze, dial his movements back to near-stillness, whispering assurances against her neck until she relaxed and nodded for him to continue. She loved it. She loved the palpable care, the way her well-being was his paramount concern.

The slow, deep friction was building a fire in them both. Hemant could feel his climax approaching, a tight coil in his gut. 

"Kiara… I’m going to cum" he grunted, his voice thick.

She turned her head, her eyes glazed with passion. 

"Do it" she whispered, a fierce determination in her voice. 

"Its in a safe space anyways....ahhh...do it!" she said with a slight mix of giggle and moan.

Her permission was the final release. He increased his pace, but only slightly—a firm, steady rhythm that pushed her towards her own peak. To their mutual shock, her orgasm crested with his. Her body clenched around his invading length in a series of violent, fluttering spasms as she cried out, a gush of her own fluids soaking the sheets beneath them. Hemant’s own release followed, a roaring tide of pleasure. He buried himself deep and pulsed, jet after hot, thick jet of cum flooding her rectum, marking her insides as his.

A minute later, with twin, screaming climaxes, Pranitha and Alia joined them, their shared orgasm making them both squirt messily onto the dildo and the already-soaked bed.

Pranitha collapsed, spent. She rolled onto her side, facing Hemant and Kiara. Kiara had shifted, now facing Hemant, snuggling into his chest as he held her close, his softening cock still nestled within her. He looked over Kiara’s head and met Pranitha’s eyes, giving her a slow, satisfied wink.

Pranitha’s gaze drifted lower, to where a thick, pearly trail of Hemant’s cum was already seeping out from between Kiara’s ass cheeks, tracing a path down her thigh. He really filled her, Pranitha thought with a thrill of vicarious pleasure.

                                                                                                                      (CHAPTER TO BE CONTD)

[Harry Jordan]

                                                                                                                (CHAPTER CONTD)

Morning came in Noordwijk as sunlight started to penetrate the cold fog of the always breezing city. Inside Pranitha's suite was mostly silent except the sound of some sort of slurping. Hemant was deep in his sleep when slowly he was gaining consciousness from his sleep. The first sensation was a warm, wet pressure, a gentle suction that pulled him from the depths of a sated sleep. Hemant groaned, a low, guttural sound of pure pleasure as consciousness returned. His morning erection was engulfed in a familiar, wonderful heat. He cracked his eyes open to see the top of Pranitha’s head bobbing slowly between his legs, her dark hair spilling over his thighs.

She looked up, her lips stretched around his girth, and her eyes crinkled with a smile. She released him with a soft pop. 

"Good morning, Handsome!" she purred, her voice husky with sleep and desire. 

She gave his shaft a slow, languid stroke. 

"You handled both me and these starlets quiet wonderfully yesterday. Both our Bollywood stars. I am very impressed"

Hemant let out a breathy laugh, his hips lifting slightly, seeking more of her mouth. 

"You’re doing a much better job right now" he managed, his voice thick.

"Are you sure about that?"

The voice, playful and laced with a hint of challenge, came from his other side. Alia emerged from the tangle of sheets, her nude body glowing in the soft morning light filtering through the curtains. She stretched like a cat, her small, perfect breasts lifting, before she slid down the bed to join Pranitha. Her eyes, bright and mischievous, locked onto his cock, glistening with Pranitha’s saliva.

"Mind if we share?" 

Alia asked, not waiting for an answer as she nudged Pranitha playfully with her shoulder. 

"He’s got enough to go around"

"Just don’t be greedy" Pranitha chuckled and nodded, shifting to make room. 

What followed was a dizzying, overwhelming assault on his senses. Pranitha took him first, giving a few deep, loving bobs, her tongue flat against his underside. Then Alia moved in, her approach more audacious. She opened her mouth wide and, in one smooth, practiced motion, swallowed him whole. Hemant gasped as the head of his cock nudged the back of her throat. She held it there, her eyes watering slightly, before pulling back with a wet, slurping sound, a string of saliva connecting her lips to his tip.

"Fuck" he hissed, his hands fisting in the sheets. 

The dual sensation—Pranitha’s loving expertise and Alia’s bold, deep-throating hunger—was almost too much to process. His abs tightened, his entire body coiling with the intense, building pleasure.

Then he felt a soft hand on his chest, a gentle weight settling against his side. He turned his head to see Kiara, awake now, her doe eyes soft and affectionate. She smiled and leaned in, pressing her lips to his in a deep, slow, morning kiss. She tasted of sleep and something sweet. When she pulled back, she nuzzled his neck. 

"I loved the way you sucked my breasts last night" she confessed, her whisper a warm breath against his skin. 

"The way your mouth felt… I couldn’t stop thinking about it"

Without another word, she shifted, straddling his chest. She leaned forward, bringing one of her small, perfect breasts to his lips. The dusky pink nipple was already pebbled and hard. Hemant obliged eagerly, taking it into his mouth, sucking gently, then with more firmness, his tongue flicking over the sensitive peak. A soft, shuddering sigh escaped Kiara.

"I should… I should be pleasuring you all" Hemant mumbled around her flesh, his words muffled.

Kiara shook her head, her fingers threading through his hair. 

"No" she breathed. 

"We’re tired. Deliciously, wonderfully tired. You worked so hard for us last night. This… this morning is for you. A thank you" 

She gasped as he switched to her other breast, his teeth grazing lightly over the nipple.

As if on cue, Kiara slid down his body, joining the two women already working on his cock. Now there were three. Three sets of lips, three talented tongues, three beautiful, famous women vying for a taste of him. The visual alone was nearly enough to push him over the edge. Pranitha took the base, her lips sealing around his shaft, sucking firmly. Alia claimed the middle, her mouth a wet, tight ring as she bobbed rapidly. Kiara, shy but determined, focused on the sensitive head, her kitten-like licks and gentle sucks sending shivers up his spine.

The sensations merged into one continuous, electrifying current of bliss. He was losing himself, drowning in a sea of wet warmth and soft murmurs. He could feel the orgasm building, a tidal wave gathering force deep in his core.

"I’m… I’m close" he grunted, the warning torn from him.

The women understood. In a coordinated, silent agreement, they pulled back. Pranitha took his shaft in her hand, her grip firm and knowing. She began to jerk him, rough and fast, her fist a blur. Alia cupped his heavy balls in her mouth, sucking gently on the sac, her tongue swirling. Kiara and Pranitha leaned in, and for a breathtaking second, they kissed each other, their lips meeting right over the weeping tip of his cock, their tongues dancing as a droplet of his pre-cum smeared between them.

That image—the ultimate act of shared devotion—was his undoing.

"NOW!" he roared.

His body arched off the bed as the first spurt erupted. It was a powerful, thick rope that shot across the short distance and splashed across Pranitha’s cheek, white against her skin. The second followed instantly, and then it was like a hose had been unleashed. Pranitha, grinning wickedly, angled his pulsing cock. She directed the next violent jet to the left, painting Alia’s surprised, beautiful face with a streak of his cum. Without pause, she swung to the right, and Kiara’s delicate features were plastered with the warm, sticky fluid.

Hemant’s vision whited out. He groaned, long and deep, as his body convulsed through the most powerful, draining release of his life. Jet after hot jet spurted out, coating the three waiting faces below until he was spent, utterly empty. He collapsed back onto the mattress, his chest heaving, his limbs boneless. A deep, profound exhaustion claimed him, and his eyes fluttered shut, consciousness slipping away into a satisfied, grateful darkness.

The last thing he was aware of was the sound of soft, wet smacks and contented hums. He cracked one eye open a slit. The three women were gathered close, their faces glistening. Pranitha used her fingers to gather the cum from her own cheek and brought it to her lips, sucking it clean with a pleased moan. She then leaned over and kissed Alia, sharing the taste. Alia, in turn, turned to Kiara, licking a stripe of white from her jaw before capturing her mouth in a deep, messy kiss. They traded his essence between them, swallow by languid swallow, a silent, intimate communion.

As Hemant finally settled into the bed after being finally exhausted from his activities. He accepted that moments like this is what makes his life worth it at the moment.


An hour later, they were sharing a quiet lunch in the suite. Sunlight had grown brighter now, casting a softer tone over everything.

"So Hemant? how is YOD" Alia asked with a curious tone.

Hemant was startled by her talk.

"You know about YOD?" Hemant asked stunned.

"Of course....you really I would let a stranger do the things you did last night? I have standards hunk" 

Alia responded with a raised eyebrow of her own. She continued.

"Pranitha never stopped talking about you. She made it clear your were her recent obsession. And I was also curious after Ananya kept calling you 'Daddy'.....to the point I just had to find out so I jumped the gun"

"And for that I have no regrets" Pranitha said thoughtfully. 

Before Hemant could respond, his phone vibrated on the table. He glanced at the screen—and froze. Meera Sethi. His divorce lawyer. He excused himself subtly and answered in a composed tone. 

"Good afternoon, Meera"

"Good afternoon, Hemant" she replied professionally. 

"I’m calling because Sonarika contacted me. She wants to renegotiate the divorce settlement"

"Renegotiate? Why?" His jaw tightened slightly. 

"That’s unclear" Meera admitted. 

"She’ll be in Mumbai tomorrow. She’s requested your presence at my office so we can discuss the changes together"

A quiet weight settled in his chest. He had a suspicion. And he desperately hoped he was wrong.

"I’ll be there" he said simply before ending the call.

When he returned to the table, Pranitha noticed the shift immediately. The other ladies noticed it too.

"What happened?"

He exhaled slowly. 

"Sonarika wants to change the divorce deal. She’s coming to Mumbai tomorrow"

Pranitha’s expression softened. She reached across the table, squeezing his hand. 

"Sonarika? that's the wife right?" 

Alia questioned as Kiara too looked nervous seeing the change in Hemant. His demeanor totally shifted.

"Maybe it’s just financial. New job, new city… maybe she needs more security"

"I don’t think so" he replied quietly. 

"She has enoughsavings. Her father has enough fortune to support her" He paused. 

"I have a feeling this is about Karan"

The word lingered heavier than anything else in the room. Alia and Kiara realized things had evolved into a rather uncomfortable scenario. Pranitha moved closer, resting her head briefly against his shoulder. 

"Don’t jump to conclusions" she said gently. 

"You’ll know tomorrow. Until then… don’t let fear steal today"

She leaned back with a small smile. 

"She's right Hemant. Whatever it is , you might be overthinking it. Besides you have nothing to worry if Pranitha has your back"

Alia hypes up Pranitha to lighten the mood. Kiara also becomes a reassuring voice of reason.

"Hemant , as a parent , I can understand the fears and worries you're going through. But you need to fight , be confident about your son. Nothing bad will happen to a good man like you"

"When are you going then?"

"I have to book a return flight for tonight"

"You still have a few hours in Amsterdam before your rescheduled flight. Let’s make them count"

Pranitha said with assurance. He looked at her—at the warmth, the stability she offered without demand. But beneath Hemant’s calm exterior, unease simmered. One enemy had fallen. Another storm was forming. And this time, it wasn’t coming from the underworld. It was coming from home.

The rest of the afternoon dissolved into something lighter.

They drifted from one beach pub to another along the Dutch coastline—music spilling into the open air, glasses clinking, strangers laughing under fading sunlight. The sea breeze carried a crisp edge, but inside the wooden-floored bar where they eventually settled, the energy was warm and electric.

Pranitha pulled him toward the dance floor without hesitation.

Hemant wasn’t usually one to dance publicly, but with her hands on his shoulders and her laughter spilling into his ear, he let himself loosen. Alia and Kiara too were with them but were keeping a low profile and reserved themselves to the bar counter. The new pair moved close—unapologetically close—swaying to rhythmic beats that thudded through the floorboards. At one point she leaned up, brushing her lips against his jaw.

"Beaches are going to mean something very different to me now" she murmured, eyes glinting.

"Let me guess , its because of yesterday evening?" He smirked faintly. 

"That evening will be a forever in my life!!!" She laughed. 

"Then I suppose beaches are special to me now too. You’re in my life" 

He met her gaze more seriously. Her expression softened at that. Later, seated on a wooden deck overlooking the water, her martini and his coke resting forgotten on the table, Hemant grew quieter.

"There’s something strange about all this" he admitted. 

"Being… physically involved in that situation. With other people , its kind of a deja vu , and I am confused about it"

Pranitha tilted her head. 

"Don't be. It’s about experience. About not rushing into something permanent just because it feels intense" 

She traced her finger along the rim of her glass. 

"I don’t want us making life-altering decisions from the get-go. I want thrill. Freedom. To explore you before I choose you fully"

"That mindset… reminds me of someone" He studied her for a moment, then nodded slowly. 

"Oh?" she asked lightly. 

"Who?"

"Ashnoor" he said, the name leaving him almost unconsciously.

"Who was she?" Pranitha stilled. 

For the first time that day, a shadow crossed his features.

"She was… someone that became my everything....a very ambitious and rebel young woman when I met her. She was my mentor's daughter. But she also had an attitude , he gave me the responsibility to look after her. But somewhere in those moments , my duty became my love. And next thing I know , we became closer than ever. And she , she had a pretty ridiculous kinks and aspirations about our relationship. We indulged in a lot of 'kinky' stuffs. Those moments were pretty significant to what I am today" 

He said quietly. Pranitha watched him carefully, eyes growing misty at the raw honesty in his tone.

"What happened?" she asked gently.

"Darkness.....the thing I learned now about my life , when I get something , I usually loose a whole lot more.....the path I walked , it was not normal , not ideal. I messed with that darkness and it consumed me. And that darkness....it took her from me forever. I lost , my girl , my mentor , a family that I had once built on.....and now here I am bracing for loosing another one.....which is why despite everything I am scared Pranitha.....I am scared to commit....my life....“It’s more complicated than you think." 

He replied with a faint, humorless smile. She reached across the table, squeezing his hand. 

"I’m glad I’m part of that complication"

He exhaled slowly. 

"You don’t know the half of it. My past…It’s dark. Grim. If you ever saw the whole truth, you might look at me differently. You might see a monster"

Pranitha didn’t hesitate.

"I don’t see a monster" she said firmly. 

"I see a man who survived something terrible. A man who was afraid of his own darkness. And now that you’ve faced it… the best parts of you are finally showing"

He searched her eyes for doubt. There was none.

By evening, Amsterdam’s airport lights glowed against the descending dusk. Alia and Kiara had separate from the couple for some shopping promising to return to Pranitha in her suite by evening. Pranitha walked beside him through the terminal, fingers intertwined, unwilling to release the moment too soon.

At the security barrier, she turned to him.

"Don’t overthink Sonarika.....It won’t be anything catastrophic" she said softly. 

He shook his head slightly. 

"I feel like it will be. And somehow… it might hurt more than anything from my past"

Pranitha stepped closer, her voice dropping to a whisper edged with steel. 

"You won’t be hurt. I won’t let her"

"It’s not your fight" He gave her a faint smile. 

“It is now.....and if she even thinks about hurting you...I’ll ruin her life in ways she won’t see coming" 

Pranitha replied calmly,  The possessiveness in her tone was startling—but sincere. They kissed slowly, deliberately, as if imprinting the taste of each other for the days ahead.

"Let me know about the progress....I will be back in Mumbai very soon!" she said.

"I will"

He turned and walked toward check-in without looking back, though he felt her gaze on him until he disappeared beyond the crowd. Outside, Pranitha returned to her car. She didn’t start the engine immediately. Instead, she pulled out her phone and dialed a number from memory. When the call connected, her voice was steady.

"I need all the details regarding Sonarika Sharma. Including her recent activities and her new occupation!"


ON THE FLIGHT TO MUMBAI


The cabin lights dimmed as the aircraft cruised steadily toward India.

Hemant sat by the window, watching the endless stretch of night outside. The ten-hour journey had been uneventful on the surface—polite flight attendants, muted conversations, the soft hum of engines—but inside him, nothing was calm.

His thoughts kept circling back to one question:

Why would Sonarika want to renegotiate?

He knew her patterns. Sonarika had always been quick to react, quicker to assume. Half-formed details had once spiraled into full-blown accusations. If she had discovered even a fragment of his past, she wouldn’t wait for context. She would draw her own conclusion.

And that was what frightened him.

He leaned back and closed his eyes, forcing himself into sleep. Maybe it was just paperwork. A financial clause. A timing issue. A small correction. Nothing more.

He slept longer than expected.

When he woke, the aircraft had begun its gradual descent. The overhead sign chimed softly.

A moment later, the captain’s voice filled the cabin.

“Ladies and gentlemen, we’ll be landing in Mumbai in approximately one hour. Monsoon has arrived earlier than expected this year. The city is currently experiencing a thunderstorm. Please rest assured, conditions remain within safe operational limits.”

Outside the window, flashes of distant lightning tore through thick clouds.

Hemant’s pulse quickened.

Mumbai.

Storm.

Renegotiation.

Without thinking further, he switched his phone off airplane mode. The signal flickered weakly but stabilized just enough.

He dialed.

Five rings.

Then her voice.

"Hello?"

"Where are you?" Hemant asked immediately.

"At home" she replied calmly.

He frowned. 

"At home? Then why did you tell Ms. Meera Sethi you wanted me in Mumbai if you’re in Delhi?"

A brief pause.

"I’m not in Delhi" she said.

Silence stretched between them.

"I’m at our house" she continued. 

"Silver Beach. Juhu"

His grip tightened around the phone. Silver Beach. He hadn’t expected that. Not so soon. Not without warning. After steadying himself, he spoke again. 

"Why are you renegotiating the deal?"

Her tone shifted—no longer defensive, no longer wounded. Measured.

"The deal needs to change" she said quietly. 

"I thought I was the only one who ruined this marriage. I thought I was the wrongdoer"

A flicker of confusion crossed his face.

"And now?" he asked.

“And now...I know our marriage was a lie all along!!!" she said. 

His chest tightened.

"What's that supposed to mean?" he asked carefully.

There was a faint exhale on the other end.

"Who’s asking me that?" she said softly. 

"Is it my soon to be ex-husband Hemant Kumar…....or Michael King?"

The world inside the cabin seemed to freeze. The hum of engines grew louder in his ears.

Michael King.

The name he had buried. The name that belonged to the darkest chapters of his life. He couldn’t speak. His lips parted, but no sound came out. His heartbeat pounded violently against his ribs. How did she know this? What was the content of Rustom's letter? Has she believed the fabricated urban legend of Michael King? Before he could gather himself, the signal crackled. Static overtook the line as the plane pierced deeper into the storm clouds.

The call dropped.

Outside, the aircraft plunged into thick monsoon clouds. The world beyond the window turned pitch black, broken only by violent flashes of lightning illuminating the wing for a split second before swallowing it again.



The plane trembled slightly. Inside, passengers murmured nervously. Hemant sat absolutely still. He wasn’t afraid of the turbulence. He was afraid of what awaited him on the ground. As the aircraft moved deeper into the darkness, he struggled to breathe properly. His chest felt constricted—not from altitude, but from inevitability.

The past had not remained buried. It had found its way home.

And as Mumbai’s storm swallowed the plane whole, Hemant couldn’t ignore the symbolism—his life, too, was descending straight into the darkness he had spent years trying to escape.

                                                                                                                    END OF CHAPTER 31

[Harry Jordan]

Like I said before , I have split this chapter into two which means Chapter 32 will come online this time without delay on Saturday. I have also rescheduled my process to ensure there is weekly updates of chapters so that no more delays like this happen. We are moving to a rather serious part of the story anyways so now the plot will tackle more serious stuffs and tone down the sex to some extent. This chapter definitely had an overdrive of sex. Chapter 32 will be about conflicts between Hemant and Sonarika and the paths they take moving forward. A chapter will be fully dedicated to Sonarika in the future focusing on her chain of events in Delhi until her new beginning in Goa. Things between the couple will be tense from now on and this is the start of their next set of arcs with the path taking them to uncharted territories. 

So brace for Chapter 32 this saturday as Hemant and Sonarika faces seen and unseen villains in their life as things about to get way out of their hand!!!

[Demeter]

.

.
"The deal needs to change" she said quietly. 

"I thought I was the only one who ruined this marriage. I thought I was the wrongdoer"

A flicker of confusion crossed his face.

"And now?" he asked.

“And now...I know our marriage was a lie all along!!!" she said. 
.
.

I have read another successful chapter, which made the long wait really worthwhile.

I think that with this step, which resembles an "attack", Sonarika is leaning too far out of the window and thus overshooting the mark.
Her logic is also without a definable basis and has an unclear structure.

She is attempting to blame Hemant for the ‘adultery und cheating’ that led to the break-up, which was solely her fault, in order to possibly achieve moral purification.
However, I find this extremely risky and unfounded.
Hemant was honest with her from the beginning and never cheated on her or lied to her during their time together. 
He simply did not reveal his past to her completely because, among other things, he wanted to break away from that past and bury it once and for all.
Sonarika, meanwhile, also has a considerable number of dark sides to her past, which she has not yet mentioned to Hemant. 
One example of this is the exact circumstances surrounding her sister, her exact relationship and closeness to Meghna.

Those are my initial thoughts on the matter. Perhaps more later!

It seems to me that in the coming chapters we can expect a similar ‘battle’ to the one in the film 
‘Mr. & Mrs. Smith’ 
with Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie.
Ultimately, however, this led to the two finding their way back to each other...


-----------
Demeter

[RCF]

I have read another successful chapter, which made the long wait really worthwhile.

I think that with this step, which resembles an "attack", Sonarika is leaning too far out of the window and thus overshooting the mark.
Her logic is also without a definable basis and has an unclear structure.

She is attempting to blame Hemant for the ‘adultery und cheating’ that led to the break-up, which was solely her fault, in order to possibly achieve moral purification.
However, I find this extremely risky and unfounded.
Hemant was honest with her from the beginning and never cheated on her or lied to her during their time together. 
He simply did not reveal his past to her completely because, among other things, he wanted to break away from that past and bury it once and for all.
Sonarika, meanwhile, also has a considerable number of dark sides to her past, which she has not yet mentioned to Hemant. 
One example of this is the exact circumstances surrounding her sister, her exact relationship and closeness to Meghna.

Those are my initial thoughts on the matter. Perhaps more later!

It seems to me that in the coming chapters we can expect a similar ‘battle’ to the one in the film 
‘Mr. & Mrs. Smith’ 
with Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie.
Ultimately, however, this led to the two finding their way back to each other...


-----------
Demeter

You are totally thinking it wrong, She might have now truly understood why Hemanth despite being MK once turned himself and his life to be HK. She might have understood how her past trauma was healed by Hemanth and at the same time how she healed HK. I think this new deal is to only protect Hemanth despite being like other way on the surface and she might know something that Hemanth doesn't know and she is definitely helping HK. 

Sonarika is many things but not blaming types...she might be fearing for her son's safety as well so renegotiating the custody is her right in the best interests of his life. 

~RCF

[Blackdick11]

The very thing Hemant was afraid of has finally happened. I can’t help but wonder the same thing, HOW did Sonarika find out? DID Rustom really mention in his letter who Michael King is, or is there something more to it? BECAUSE honestly, my instinct telling me she didn’t learn this from the letter at all. It feels like someone else must have told her… AND for some reason, my suspicion keeps circling back to Vikram’s sister, ANJANA. I don’t know why, but something about it just doesn’t sit right. If Hemant gets exposed. Anjana is the one who benefits the most. AFTER all, the revenge is meant for MICHAEL KING not HEMANT KUMAR.

[Demeter]

She helped Hemant a lot by entering into a passionate relationship with Vikram. Her sole intention was to help Hemant become a “real man”. 
Yes, she was a great help to him.
During this ‘helping phase’, she was also a good, caring and sincere wife! 
Mother Theresa, in fact!
Yes, yes... Hemant should be grateful to her, because she showed him and exemplified what it means to be a ‘real man’.


-----------
Demeter

[RCF]

Haha I get it, Not defending her actions..I am saying you got the plot wrong for moving forward, we all hate her for the past...time will tell.

[Demeter]

The very thing Hemant was afraid of has finally happened. I can’t help but wonder the same thing, HOW did Sonarika find out? DID Rustom really mention in his letter who Michael King is, or is there something more to it? BECAUSE honestly, my instinct telling me she didn’t learn this from the letter at all. It feels like someone else must have told her… AND for some reason, my suspicion keeps circling back to Vikram’s sister, ANJANA. I don’t know why, but something about it just doesn’t sit right. If Hemant gets exposed. Anjana is the one who benefits the most. AFTER all, the revenge is meant for MICHAEL KING not HEMANT KUMAR.

I also think that Sonarika's father was not explicitly informed in the letter that his son-in-law Hemant S. is actually Michael K. Otherwise, he would have explained this to his daughter at the beginning.

Rather, I think that Vikram's sister, who is close friends with Daraaksh and does things together with him, leaked the information.  
She is determined to rise to the top of the family business, but Vikram stands in her way. She may have leaked the information about Hemant S. – Michael K. so that Sonarika would be filled with hatred and anger towards him (Hemant) and finally distance herself from him in order to get closer to Vikram.
After all, a Vikraum whose focus is solely on Sonarika can easily be removed, leading to sole leadership.
There is a possibility that his mother is involved, although I do not prefer this option.


-----------
Demeter

[Demeter]

Posted by mistake !

[giffsmaster_pro]

Hi does this story has hot beautiful girl sex with old man or uncle or watchman type of story? please tell.