Bhenchod: My sister, my lover(Brother-sister)

[Mohit.Kumar]

The room was filled with the anticipation of a silent symphony as they waited for the knock on the door that signaled the room service. Rupa took this moment to strip herself of her heavy lehenga, letting it pool at her feet like a discarded shell. Her choli, now uncovered, clung to her sweat-dampened skin, the red fabric a stark contrast to the paleness of her midriff. She kicked off her sandals, the jingle of her anklets the only sound in the room other than their ragged breaths.

The door creaked open, and the room bearer, a young man with a shy smile, stepped inside, his eyes immediately drawn to the sight of Rupa standing there in her revealing attire. Sharan quickly handed him a wad of cash, the unspoken message clear. "Could you get a bottle of whisky and some soda and ice for us?" he asked, his voice a low rumble that seemed to resonate in the room.

Rupa watched the exchange with a knowing smile, enjoying the thrill of the illicitness of their situation. The room bearer's eyes widened slightly at the sum of money exchanged, but he nodded eagerly, the grin never leaving his face as he took the money. "Of course, sir," he said, his gaze flicking to Rupa.

She signaled him to come closer. With big eyes the room bearer tip toed up to her.

Whispering something into the room bearer's ear, Rupa stepped closer to him, her breasts pressing against the thin fabric of her choli. Her words were a secret shared only between them, a promise that lingered in the air like the scent of expensive perfume. The room bearer's grin grew wider, his eyes darkening with understanding. He nodded again, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down as he swallowed hard. Without another word, he turned on his heel and disappeared into the corridor, the door clicking shut behind him.

Sharan's eyes narrowed slightly at the interaction, a spark of possessiveness flaring within him. He took a step toward Rupa, his hand reaching out to trace the line of her jaw. "What did you tell him?" he asked, his voice a low growl of curiosity.

Rupa leaned into his touch, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Just a little extra something for his troubles," she replied, her voice a purr that seemed to wrap around him like a silken noose. "It's all part of the game, bhai."

Sharan felt a strange cocktail of emotions—jealousy, anger, and arousal—at the thought of his sister using her charms to manipulate the hotel staff. Yet, he knew it was part of the thrill she sought, the danger of discovery that made their encounters so potent. He stepped closer to her, his hand sliding down to cup her breast through the fabric of her choli. The weight of it in his palm was intoxicating, the nipple pebbling beneath his touch. "Is this what you had in mind?" he murmured, his thumb tracing circles around the sensitive peak.

Rupa's eyes fluttered closed, a soft moan escaping her lips as she leaned into his touch. "Always," she breathed. "But you know what I really want."

Sharan's mouth claimed hers once again, the kiss a heady mix of desire and need that left them both gasping for breath. Their tongues danced together, a sensual tango that spoke of the years of longing and repression that had led them to this moment. Her hands slid up his back, her nails digging into his flesh, the pain only serving to fuel the fire that raged within him. His hand on her breast grew bolder, his thumb brushing against the rigid peak, sending a shiver of pleasure down her spine.

Breaking away from the kiss, Sharan looked into Rupa's eyes, his own dark with lust. "Dance for me," he said, his voice a rough command. Rupa stepped back, a slow, sultry smile spreading across her face as she reached for her phone. She flicked through the playlist, her eyes gleaming as she selected a particularly raunchy Hindi number, the beat heavy and laden with innuendo.

The music filled the room, the bass thumping through the floorboards as Rupa began to sway to the rhythm. The choli, already scandalously revealing, clung to her breasts as she moved, the fabric straining with every movement. She rolled her hips, her bare midriff undulating in a way that made Sharan's mouth water. His eyes were riveted to the sliver of her waist, the way it curved into her green cotton panty.

Rupa's dance grew more brazen as the lyrics grew more explicit. Her eyes never left Sharan's, holding his gaze as if daring him to look away. The air grew thick with the scent of her arousal, mingling with the sweet scent of her jasmine perfume. Her words were a filthy litany of desires and suggestions, each one more scandalous than the last. "Look at me, bhai," she murmured, . "Tell me what you want."