29-09-2024, 09:45 PM
CHAPTER – 36
Danish woke up to the soft, warm light filtering through the curtains, his body still heavy with the lingering exhaustion from the night before. Kavya lay beside him, curled into his chest, her breathing soft and rhythmic. She looked serene, her hair messy, her skin glowing with a warmth that brought a smile to his face. The night had been intense—more than either of them had anticipated—and now, in the stillness of the morning, the weight of their actions settled in.
As Danish shifted slightly, careful not to wake her, his eyes fell on the marks he had left on her neck and shoulders. Red and faintly bruised, the imprints of his passion, his desire. His pride swelled at the sight of them. He had taken her to places she had never been, pushed her limits, and in doing so, had made her his in a way he knew she had never experienced with anyone else.
Kavya stirred beside him, slowly waking, her body stretching as she opened her eyes. Her lips curled into a soft smile when she saw him watching her, but there was an unmistakable exhaustion in her gaze, a reflection of the intensity from the night before.
"Good morning," she whispered, her voice husky and low.
"Morning," Danish replied, his hand reaching out to brush a strand of hair from her face. He admired her for a moment, taking in the subtle flush of her cheeks, the way her lips looked slightly swollen from their passionate kisses. The memory of her moans, the way she had said his name, sent a surge of pride through him once again.
Kavya shifted, her body still feeling the echoes of their night together. Her muscles ached in ways she hadn’t known they could, and there was a delicious soreness between her legs that reminded her of every deep thrust, every moment of surrender. She hadn’t expected it to be like this—raw, overwhelming, and entirely consuming. Rahul had never made her feel this way. With him, it had always been quick, predictable. But with Danish, everything had been different.
Danish’s fingers traced the faint marks on her neck, his eyes flicking over the bruises with a look of pride that didn’t go unnoticed by Kavya. She shivered under his touch, the reminder of how wild he had been sending a thrill through her even now.
"You look... pleased with yourself," Kavya teased softly, her voice still thick with sleep.
Danish grinned, his fingers trailing down to her collarbone. "Maybe a little," he admitted, his voice low and confident. "You’re a ***** girl, after all. I never thought... well, I never imagined this."
Kavya bit her lip, a blush rising to her cheeks. "Neither did I," she whispered. "I never thought I’d... be with someone like you. It’s... different."
"Different?" Danish’s eyebrow arched, his grin growing wider.
Kavya’s breath hitched as she tried to put her thoughts into words. "You’re... you’re not like Rahul. Last night was... I don’t even know how to describe it. You lasted so long, you pushed me so far—" Her voice trembled with the memory of it. "It was more than I’ve ever felt before. And I didn’t think... I didn’t think I’d ever feel that with someone like you."
Danish felt a surge of pride, his chest swelling as he heard her words. He had always known there was something special about this connection, but hearing her say it—that he had given her something no one else had—made it all the more intense.
"I told you," Danish murmured, his lips brushing the curve of her ear. "I’m different."
Kavya’s pulse quickened at his words, the memory of the night flashing in her mind—the way his hands had gripped her, the sound of their bodies moving
together, the overwhelming sensation of his deep thrusts. She had never felt so full, so completely consumed by another person.
Her eyes flicked down to his hand on her skin, her breath catching in her throat as she remembered how he had taken her, how he had made her lose control in ways Rahul never could. Danish had pushed her past her limits, and in doing so, had awakened something deep within her—a desire she hadn’t known existed.
"You were... incredible," she confessed, her voice barely a whisper.
Danish smirked, leaning down to kiss her shoulder, the pride in his chest growing with every passing second. "You’re not too bad yourself," he teased, his hand slipping down her waist, fingers tracing the curve of her hip.
Kavya’s body responded instantly, a shiver running down her spine as his touch reignited the embers of their passion from the night before. She turned her head, her lips meeting his in a slow, languid kiss that spoke of the intimacy they had shared.
As their lips parted, Danish’s eyes met hers, and he felt the weight of the night settle between them once more. It wasn’t just about the physical act—it was about the connection they had formed, the way they had broken through barriers neither of them had expected to cross.
"You’re mine now," Danish murmured, his voice low and possessive. "No one else can give you what I did."
Kavya’s breath hitched, her heart racing at his words. There was a rawness to him, an intensity that Rahul had never had. And now, after what they had shared, she knew that Danish had given her something no one else could.
Her fingers traced the marks on her neck, the reminder of his dominance over her. And as she lay there, wrapped in his arms, she realized that she had crossed a line—one she could never go back from. But instead of fear or regret, all she felt was an overwhelming sense of satisfaction.
"Yes," she whispered, her voice trembling with the truth of it. "I’m yours."
As Kavya lay in Danish’s arms, her body still tingling from the intense night they had shared, a wave of thoughts washed over her. She stared at the ceiling, her mind racing as reality slowly set in. She had crossed a boundary she never thought she would—she, a ***** girl from a traditional family, had just spent the night in the arms of a M u s l i m man.
The cultural weight of that realization made her heart pound harder. Kavya had grown up with the expectations of her family, where the idea of a relationship outside of their caste, let alone religion, was unthinkable. She had been taught that love and marriage must follow strict rules, guided by tradition and caste. But now, here she was, wrapped in the sheets, her body aching from the love they had made, and it wasn’t her husband Rahul she was thinking about—it was Danish.
She blinked, her gaze shifting to the ceiling as her thoughts grew louder, more insistent. "How did I get here?" she whispered to herself, as if saying it out loud would somehow make it real. But the answer was already clear. She knew how. She knew why. And despite the guilt that pricked at her conscience, the truth was undeniable: she didn’t regret it.
Danish stirred beside her, his arm dbangd casually across her waist, his breathing steady and peaceful. She glanced over at him, her heart twisting in her chest. He had a satisfied look on his face, a look of pride, and why wouldn’t he? He had claimed her in a way she had never been claimed before—physically, emotionally, and perhaps even spiritually. In that moment, the weight of their different worlds seemed to dissolve, leaving only the reality of their connection.
Her hand instinctively went to the red marks on her neck, tracing the faint outline of his bites. Her body was a canvas of the night they had shared—bitten shoulders, bruised collarbone, marks that told the story of their passion, marks that Rahul had never left. She closed her eyes, feeling a wave of something dark and thrilling wash over her. The fact that she, a ***** girl, had given herself to a '. man added a forbidden edge to it all—a dangerous, exhilarating rebellion against everything she had been raised to believe.
Growing up, she had heard countless warnings about interfaith relationships, about the dangers of stepping outside the bounds of caste and religion. Those lessons had been drilled into her, shaping her choices, defining her path. But in the arms of Danish, all of that had faded away. It was as if the weight of those expectations had melted under the heat of their passion, leaving her free to be who she truly was—not the obedient daughter, not the dutiful wife, but a woman who had discovered a fire within herself that she never knew existed.
As she lay there, wrapped in the afterglow of their night together, Kavya couldn’t help but marvel at how much she had changed in just a few short hours. She had crossed a line that could never be uncrossed, and instead of fear or regret, all she felt was power. She had given herself completely to Danish, had surrendered to the desire that had been building between them for weeks, and it had been everything she never knew she wanted.
Her fingers traced the red marks on her skin once more, her mind replaying every moment—the way his hands had gripped her, the way his body had moved with hers, the way he had whispered her name as if it were a prayer. She shivered at the memory, her pulse quickening again. The way he had made love to her was unlike anything she had ever experienced. He had taken her places Rahul never had, both physically and emotionally. He had pushed her to the edge, and then over it, again and again, until her body had no choice but to surrender to the pleasure.
And what amazed her the most was how much she had loved it. She had loved the intensity, the roughness, the way Danish had made her feel completely out of control, yet entirely safe in his hands. Every time he had pushed deeper, every time he had kissed her harder, she had felt herself unraveling in ways she hadn’t thought possible. It was as if her body had been waiting for this, for him.
Danish shifted beside her, "You’re thinking about last night, aren’t you?" he asked, his voice low and teasing.
Kavya’s lips curled into a small smile, her heart pounding in her chest. "I am," she admitted softly, her voice trembling with the weight of her confession.
Danish leaned closer, his hand brushing against the marks on her neck. "I told you I’d show you something different," he whispered, his breath hot against her skin.
Kavya closed her eyes, her body reacting to his words. He had shown her something different, something wild and uncontrollable. And the truth was, she couldn’t imagine going back to the way things were with Rahul. Danish had unlocked something inside her, something primal and untamed, and there was no closing that door now.
"You did," she whispered back, her voice barely audible. "I never thought I’d feel this way. I never thought... I’d be with someone like you."
The words hung in the air between them, heavy with meaning. Kavya had never imagined herself in this situation, and yet here she was. And she wasn’t ashamed. She wasn’t afraid. All she felt was desire—desire for more of the connection they had shared, desire for more of the passion that had left her breathless.
Danish smirked, his hand moving to cup her face, his thumb brushing over her lips. "You’ll never be the same again, Kavya. I’m not like him, and you know that."
She nodded, unable to speak. He was right. He wasn’t like Rahul. He was more—more intense, more passionate, more everything. And as she looked into his eyes, she knew that what they had shared was only the beginning.
The fact that she, a B r a h m i n girl, had given herself to a M u s l i m man only made the connection between them feel even more powerful. It was a breaking of barriers, a defiance of rules that had bound her for far too long. And in Danish’s arms, she had found the freedom she had always craved, the passion she had never known she needed.
And she loved every second of it.
They both slowly got up from the bed, Danish stretched his arms, a satisfied smirk on his face, still feeling the weight of the intense night they had shared. He glanced at Kavya, who was lying there with a soft, dreamy expression. Her skin still glowed, and the bite marks, red and visible, added an untamed beauty to her appearance. The sight of those marks, his marks, on her smooth ***** skin stirred something deep within him again.
He leaned in and kissed her forehead gently, breaking the silence with a playful suggestion. “How about we go out for a brunch?” he asked, his voice low and warm, still holding traces of the night before.
Kavya blinked, a smile tugging at her lips. The idea of going out felt oddly refreshing after the night they had spent. “Brunch sounds perfect,” she replied softly, slowly sitting up and running a hand through her tousled hair. Her body still ached slightly from their love-making, a delicious reminder of what they had shared. But she didn’t mind the soreness—if anything, it felt like a secret she carried with her, a thrill she hadn’t felt before.
After getting out of bed, Kavya stretched her body, feeling the satisfying ache from the intense night before. The sheets still carried the warmth of their passion, but her skin tingled, craving the cool touch of water. She turned toward the bathroom, feeling Danish's eyes on her as she walked away, a smirk playing on his lips as he watched her every move.
Closing the bathroom door behind her, Kavya took a moment to let out a soft sigh, her thoughts still drifting to the way Danish had made her feel. She turned on the shower, letting the water run until steam began to fill the room.
The bite marks along her neck, shoulders, and chest were even more vivid under the bathroom light, each one a reminder of the wild passion they had shared. She lightly touched the marks, feeling a mixture of pride and thrill.
Stepping into the shower, the cool water splashed against her skin, soothing the ache and washing away the remnants of the night. Kavya tilted her head back, letting the water cascade down her body, her muscles relaxing under its gentle pressure. She ran her hands over her skin, feeling the smoothness interrupted by the love marks that Danish had left behind.
The shower felt cleansing, not just physically, but emotionally too. She couldn’t shake the thoughts running through her mind—the fact that she had made love to Danish, a M u s l i m man, while she was a B r a h m i n girl. The cultural differences that once seemed so significant now felt meaningless. What mattered was the connection she had felt with him, the way he had made her feel desired, wanted, and completely satisfied.
As she finished washing, she stood under the water for a few moments longer, letting the last of the tension melt away. Wrapping herself in a soft towel, she stepped out of the shower, her skin glistening and refreshed. But the marks remained, a silent testament to the passion of the night before. She smiled to herself as she dried off, knowing that she wasn’t going to hide them.
As she got dressed, she stood in front of the mirror, her eyes falling on the bite marks that adorned her neck and shoulders. They were bold, red, and unapologetically present. She traced her fingers over one, the memory of Danish's wild, passionate bites flooding back to her, making her body tingle. A small part of her, the part that once would have been embarrassed, was now quiet. Instead, there was a mischievous satisfaction blooming inside her.
She picked out a sleeveless floral maxi dress from her wardrobe, something light and comfortable, but revealing enough that the marks on her neck and shoulders remained visible. Somewhere in her mind, she wanted to show them, to flex the passion she had experienced. It wasn’t something she would have done before—Rahul had never left such marks, never made her feel so alive. But with Danish, everything was different. These marks were symbols of something raw, something powerful.
As she slipped into the dress, she admired herself in the mirror for a moment. The dress clung to her body in all the right places, the fabric soft against her skin, and the bite marks peeking out from beneath the floral print gave her an edge she hadn’t felt before. She felt a strange sense of pride wearing them openly, like a silent declaration of the wild passion she had experienced.
Danish watched her from the doorway, his eyes trailing over her as she adjusted the dress. “You look beautiful,” he said, his voice husky. There was something primal in the way he said it, like he was already imagining what their day might lead to. He noticed the bite marks she had chosen not to cover and smirked. He knew exactly what she was doing, and it made him proud in a way that was hard to describe.
Kavya smiled at him, a playful gleam in her eyes as she twirled slightly, letting the dress move gracefully. “You don’t think it’s too much?” she teased, knowing full well that the marks were on full display.
“Too much?” Danish chuckled, stepping closer to her. His hand reached up, lightly brushing one of the bite marks on her neck. “I think it’s perfect.”
Kavya felt a shiver run down her spine at his touch. Her heart raced just a little faster. She wasn’t used to feeling this confident, this alive. And the fact that those marks told a story, their story, made it all the more thrilling.
As they left the apartment, Kavya felt a surge of excitement. The day was bright, the world outside felt new, and in a strange way, she felt like she was stepping out not just into a day of brunch but into a new chapter of herself—a chapter where she wasn’t just the quiet B r a h m i n girl anymore but someone who had tasted passion, defied boundaries, and embraced something entirely different.
Walking beside Danish, she couldn’t help but feel the thrill of it all. She loved the way people glanced at them, at her, at the marks on her skin. It was her secret, their secret, and yet here she was, showing the world that something powerful had happened. And for the first time in a long time, she felt fully alive, owning her desire, her choices, and everything that came with them.
Danish woke up to the soft, warm light filtering through the curtains, his body still heavy with the lingering exhaustion from the night before. Kavya lay beside him, curled into his chest, her breathing soft and rhythmic. She looked serene, her hair messy, her skin glowing with a warmth that brought a smile to his face. The night had been intense—more than either of them had anticipated—and now, in the stillness of the morning, the weight of their actions settled in.
As Danish shifted slightly, careful not to wake her, his eyes fell on the marks he had left on her neck and shoulders. Red and faintly bruised, the imprints of his passion, his desire. His pride swelled at the sight of them. He had taken her to places she had never been, pushed her limits, and in doing so, had made her his in a way he knew she had never experienced with anyone else.
Kavya stirred beside him, slowly waking, her body stretching as she opened her eyes. Her lips curled into a soft smile when she saw him watching her, but there was an unmistakable exhaustion in her gaze, a reflection of the intensity from the night before.
"Good morning," she whispered, her voice husky and low.
"Morning," Danish replied, his hand reaching out to brush a strand of hair from her face. He admired her for a moment, taking in the subtle flush of her cheeks, the way her lips looked slightly swollen from their passionate kisses. The memory of her moans, the way she had said his name, sent a surge of pride through him once again.
Kavya shifted, her body still feeling the echoes of their night together. Her muscles ached in ways she hadn’t known they could, and there was a delicious soreness between her legs that reminded her of every deep thrust, every moment of surrender. She hadn’t expected it to be like this—raw, overwhelming, and entirely consuming. Rahul had never made her feel this way. With him, it had always been quick, predictable. But with Danish, everything had been different.
Danish’s fingers traced the faint marks on her neck, his eyes flicking over the bruises with a look of pride that didn’t go unnoticed by Kavya. She shivered under his touch, the reminder of how wild he had been sending a thrill through her even now.
"You look... pleased with yourself," Kavya teased softly, her voice still thick with sleep.
Danish grinned, his fingers trailing down to her collarbone. "Maybe a little," he admitted, his voice low and confident. "You’re a ***** girl, after all. I never thought... well, I never imagined this."
Kavya bit her lip, a blush rising to her cheeks. "Neither did I," she whispered. "I never thought I’d... be with someone like you. It’s... different."
"Different?" Danish’s eyebrow arched, his grin growing wider.
Kavya’s breath hitched as she tried to put her thoughts into words. "You’re... you’re not like Rahul. Last night was... I don’t even know how to describe it. You lasted so long, you pushed me so far—" Her voice trembled with the memory of it. "It was more than I’ve ever felt before. And I didn’t think... I didn’t think I’d ever feel that with someone like you."
Danish felt a surge of pride, his chest swelling as he heard her words. He had always known there was something special about this connection, but hearing her say it—that he had given her something no one else had—made it all the more intense.
"I told you," Danish murmured, his lips brushing the curve of her ear. "I’m different."
Kavya’s pulse quickened at his words, the memory of the night flashing in her mind—the way his hands had gripped her, the sound of their bodies moving
together, the overwhelming sensation of his deep thrusts. She had never felt so full, so completely consumed by another person.
Her eyes flicked down to his hand on her skin, her breath catching in her throat as she remembered how he had taken her, how he had made her lose control in ways Rahul never could. Danish had pushed her past her limits, and in doing so, had awakened something deep within her—a desire she hadn’t known existed.
"You were... incredible," she confessed, her voice barely a whisper.
Danish smirked, leaning down to kiss her shoulder, the pride in his chest growing with every passing second. "You’re not too bad yourself," he teased, his hand slipping down her waist, fingers tracing the curve of her hip.
Kavya’s body responded instantly, a shiver running down her spine as his touch reignited the embers of their passion from the night before. She turned her head, her lips meeting his in a slow, languid kiss that spoke of the intimacy they had shared.
As their lips parted, Danish’s eyes met hers, and he felt the weight of the night settle between them once more. It wasn’t just about the physical act—it was about the connection they had formed, the way they had broken through barriers neither of them had expected to cross.
"You’re mine now," Danish murmured, his voice low and possessive. "No one else can give you what I did."
Kavya’s breath hitched, her heart racing at his words. There was a rawness to him, an intensity that Rahul had never had. And now, after what they had shared, she knew that Danish had given her something no one else could.
Her fingers traced the marks on her neck, the reminder of his dominance over her. And as she lay there, wrapped in his arms, she realized that she had crossed a line—one she could never go back from. But instead of fear or regret, all she felt was an overwhelming sense of satisfaction.
"Yes," she whispered, her voice trembling with the truth of it. "I’m yours."
As Kavya lay in Danish’s arms, her body still tingling from the intense night they had shared, a wave of thoughts washed over her. She stared at the ceiling, her mind racing as reality slowly set in. She had crossed a boundary she never thought she would—she, a ***** girl from a traditional family, had just spent the night in the arms of a M u s l i m man.
The cultural weight of that realization made her heart pound harder. Kavya had grown up with the expectations of her family, where the idea of a relationship outside of their caste, let alone religion, was unthinkable. She had been taught that love and marriage must follow strict rules, guided by tradition and caste. But now, here she was, wrapped in the sheets, her body aching from the love they had made, and it wasn’t her husband Rahul she was thinking about—it was Danish.
She blinked, her gaze shifting to the ceiling as her thoughts grew louder, more insistent. "How did I get here?" she whispered to herself, as if saying it out loud would somehow make it real. But the answer was already clear. She knew how. She knew why. And despite the guilt that pricked at her conscience, the truth was undeniable: she didn’t regret it.
Danish stirred beside her, his arm dbangd casually across her waist, his breathing steady and peaceful. She glanced over at him, her heart twisting in her chest. He had a satisfied look on his face, a look of pride, and why wouldn’t he? He had claimed her in a way she had never been claimed before—physically, emotionally, and perhaps even spiritually. In that moment, the weight of their different worlds seemed to dissolve, leaving only the reality of their connection.
Her hand instinctively went to the red marks on her neck, tracing the faint outline of his bites. Her body was a canvas of the night they had shared—bitten shoulders, bruised collarbone, marks that told the story of their passion, marks that Rahul had never left. She closed her eyes, feeling a wave of something dark and thrilling wash over her. The fact that she, a ***** girl, had given herself to a '. man added a forbidden edge to it all—a dangerous, exhilarating rebellion against everything she had been raised to believe.
Growing up, she had heard countless warnings about interfaith relationships, about the dangers of stepping outside the bounds of caste and religion. Those lessons had been drilled into her, shaping her choices, defining her path. But in the arms of Danish, all of that had faded away. It was as if the weight of those expectations had melted under the heat of their passion, leaving her free to be who she truly was—not the obedient daughter, not the dutiful wife, but a woman who had discovered a fire within herself that she never knew existed.
As she lay there, wrapped in the afterglow of their night together, Kavya couldn’t help but marvel at how much she had changed in just a few short hours. She had crossed a line that could never be uncrossed, and instead of fear or regret, all she felt was power. She had given herself completely to Danish, had surrendered to the desire that had been building between them for weeks, and it had been everything she never knew she wanted.
Her fingers traced the red marks on her skin once more, her mind replaying every moment—the way his hands had gripped her, the way his body had moved with hers, the way he had whispered her name as if it were a prayer. She shivered at the memory, her pulse quickening again. The way he had made love to her was unlike anything she had ever experienced. He had taken her places Rahul never had, both physically and emotionally. He had pushed her to the edge, and then over it, again and again, until her body had no choice but to surrender to the pleasure.
And what amazed her the most was how much she had loved it. She had loved the intensity, the roughness, the way Danish had made her feel completely out of control, yet entirely safe in his hands. Every time he had pushed deeper, every time he had kissed her harder, she had felt herself unraveling in ways she hadn’t thought possible. It was as if her body had been waiting for this, for him.
Danish shifted beside her, "You’re thinking about last night, aren’t you?" he asked, his voice low and teasing.
Kavya’s lips curled into a small smile, her heart pounding in her chest. "I am," she admitted softly, her voice trembling with the weight of her confession.
Danish leaned closer, his hand brushing against the marks on her neck. "I told you I’d show you something different," he whispered, his breath hot against her skin.
Kavya closed her eyes, her body reacting to his words. He had shown her something different, something wild and uncontrollable. And the truth was, she couldn’t imagine going back to the way things were with Rahul. Danish had unlocked something inside her, something primal and untamed, and there was no closing that door now.
"You did," she whispered back, her voice barely audible. "I never thought I’d feel this way. I never thought... I’d be with someone like you."
The words hung in the air between them, heavy with meaning. Kavya had never imagined herself in this situation, and yet here she was. And she wasn’t ashamed. She wasn’t afraid. All she felt was desire—desire for more of the connection they had shared, desire for more of the passion that had left her breathless.
Danish smirked, his hand moving to cup her face, his thumb brushing over her lips. "You’ll never be the same again, Kavya. I’m not like him, and you know that."
She nodded, unable to speak. He was right. He wasn’t like Rahul. He was more—more intense, more passionate, more everything. And as she looked into his eyes, she knew that what they had shared was only the beginning.
The fact that she, a B r a h m i n girl, had given herself to a M u s l i m man only made the connection between them feel even more powerful. It was a breaking of barriers, a defiance of rules that had bound her for far too long. And in Danish’s arms, she had found the freedom she had always craved, the passion she had never known she needed.
And she loved every second of it.
They both slowly got up from the bed, Danish stretched his arms, a satisfied smirk on his face, still feeling the weight of the intense night they had shared. He glanced at Kavya, who was lying there with a soft, dreamy expression. Her skin still glowed, and the bite marks, red and visible, added an untamed beauty to her appearance. The sight of those marks, his marks, on her smooth ***** skin stirred something deep within him again.
He leaned in and kissed her forehead gently, breaking the silence with a playful suggestion. “How about we go out for a brunch?” he asked, his voice low and warm, still holding traces of the night before.
Kavya blinked, a smile tugging at her lips. The idea of going out felt oddly refreshing after the night they had spent. “Brunch sounds perfect,” she replied softly, slowly sitting up and running a hand through her tousled hair. Her body still ached slightly from their love-making, a delicious reminder of what they had shared. But she didn’t mind the soreness—if anything, it felt like a secret she carried with her, a thrill she hadn’t felt before.
After getting out of bed, Kavya stretched her body, feeling the satisfying ache from the intense night before. The sheets still carried the warmth of their passion, but her skin tingled, craving the cool touch of water. She turned toward the bathroom, feeling Danish's eyes on her as she walked away, a smirk playing on his lips as he watched her every move.
Closing the bathroom door behind her, Kavya took a moment to let out a soft sigh, her thoughts still drifting to the way Danish had made her feel. She turned on the shower, letting the water run until steam began to fill the room.
The bite marks along her neck, shoulders, and chest were even more vivid under the bathroom light, each one a reminder of the wild passion they had shared. She lightly touched the marks, feeling a mixture of pride and thrill.
Stepping into the shower, the cool water splashed against her skin, soothing the ache and washing away the remnants of the night. Kavya tilted her head back, letting the water cascade down her body, her muscles relaxing under its gentle pressure. She ran her hands over her skin, feeling the smoothness interrupted by the love marks that Danish had left behind.
The shower felt cleansing, not just physically, but emotionally too. She couldn’t shake the thoughts running through her mind—the fact that she had made love to Danish, a M u s l i m man, while she was a B r a h m i n girl. The cultural differences that once seemed so significant now felt meaningless. What mattered was the connection she had felt with him, the way he had made her feel desired, wanted, and completely satisfied.
As she finished washing, she stood under the water for a few moments longer, letting the last of the tension melt away. Wrapping herself in a soft towel, she stepped out of the shower, her skin glistening and refreshed. But the marks remained, a silent testament to the passion of the night before. She smiled to herself as she dried off, knowing that she wasn’t going to hide them.
As she got dressed, she stood in front of the mirror, her eyes falling on the bite marks that adorned her neck and shoulders. They were bold, red, and unapologetically present. She traced her fingers over one, the memory of Danish's wild, passionate bites flooding back to her, making her body tingle. A small part of her, the part that once would have been embarrassed, was now quiet. Instead, there was a mischievous satisfaction blooming inside her.
She picked out a sleeveless floral maxi dress from her wardrobe, something light and comfortable, but revealing enough that the marks on her neck and shoulders remained visible. Somewhere in her mind, she wanted to show them, to flex the passion she had experienced. It wasn’t something she would have done before—Rahul had never left such marks, never made her feel so alive. But with Danish, everything was different. These marks were symbols of something raw, something powerful.
As she slipped into the dress, she admired herself in the mirror for a moment. The dress clung to her body in all the right places, the fabric soft against her skin, and the bite marks peeking out from beneath the floral print gave her an edge she hadn’t felt before. She felt a strange sense of pride wearing them openly, like a silent declaration of the wild passion she had experienced.
Danish watched her from the doorway, his eyes trailing over her as she adjusted the dress. “You look beautiful,” he said, his voice husky. There was something primal in the way he said it, like he was already imagining what their day might lead to. He noticed the bite marks she had chosen not to cover and smirked. He knew exactly what she was doing, and it made him proud in a way that was hard to describe.
Kavya smiled at him, a playful gleam in her eyes as she twirled slightly, letting the dress move gracefully. “You don’t think it’s too much?” she teased, knowing full well that the marks were on full display.
“Too much?” Danish chuckled, stepping closer to her. His hand reached up, lightly brushing one of the bite marks on her neck. “I think it’s perfect.”
Kavya felt a shiver run down her spine at his touch. Her heart raced just a little faster. She wasn’t used to feeling this confident, this alive. And the fact that those marks told a story, their story, made it all the more thrilling.
As they left the apartment, Kavya felt a surge of excitement. The day was bright, the world outside felt new, and in a strange way, she felt like she was stepping out not just into a day of brunch but into a new chapter of herself—a chapter where she wasn’t just the quiet B r a h m i n girl anymore but someone who had tasted passion, defied boundaries, and embraced something entirely different.
Walking beside Danish, she couldn’t help but feel the thrill of it all. She loved the way people glanced at them, at her, at the marks on her skin. It was her secret, their secret, and yet here she was, showing the world that something powerful had happened. And for the first time in a long time, she felt fully alive, owning her desire, her choices, and everything that came with them.
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