06-04-2025, 08:33 AM
Whispers in the Shadows (Part 2)
Shuvo couldn’t sleep.
The storm outside growled like an angry beast, and the mirror room called to him—low, humming whispers crawling through the walls like invisible vines. He got up, shirtless, his bare feet cold against the creaking wooden floor.
The house seemed… alive.
He wandered into the long hallway, candle in hand, drawn as if in a trance. The mirror room’s door stood ajar.
She was there.
Rekha.
She stood in front of the mirror, wrapped in a deep crimson robe that clung to her curves like satin over flame. Her black hair tumbled down her shoulders, wild and untamed. Her eyes glowed faintly—unnatural… or maybe it was the candlelight playing tricks on him.
"Shuvo," she said softly, her voice velvet and thorned. "You're not afraid of me, are you?"
"I... I thought you were Puja’s mother," he stammered, stepping back.
"I am," she purred. "But I'm more than that. I’m what this house craves… and now, so are you."
She approached slowly, the robe slipping open just enough for Shuvo’s eyes to catch a glimpse of flawless skin and full, heavy breasts swaying beneath. Her body—ripe, powerful, tempting—was unlike anything he’d ever seen.
Rekha circled behind him, fingertips grazing his bare chest, down his stomach. He shivered.
"You’re different," she whispered. "Pure. Innocent. That’s why the house chose you."
Before he could speak, her mouth was on his neck, kissing, biting, drawing gasps from his lips. He tried to pull away—but her arms were strong. Her robe dropped to the floor with a hush.
Her body was breathtaking. Thick, sultry curves that begged to be touched. Her breasts, large and full, seemed to defy gravity, and her hips—wide, commanding—swayed with otherworldly grace.
She pushed him gently to the old velvet couch, her hands working his pants down, slow and deliberate.
"You’ll remember this forever," she said, straddling him.
Their shadows danced across the mirror.
What happened next didn’t feel like a dream—but couldn’t have been real. It was as if Rekha fed off his arousal. Her body moved like silk and fire, and every thrust felt like falling deeper into a trance, deeper into her spell.
And in the mirror—Puja was watching.
But her expression wasn’t fear.
It was hunger.
Shuvo couldn’t sleep.
The storm outside growled like an angry beast, and the mirror room called to him—low, humming whispers crawling through the walls like invisible vines. He got up, shirtless, his bare feet cold against the creaking wooden floor.
The house seemed… alive.
He wandered into the long hallway, candle in hand, drawn as if in a trance. The mirror room’s door stood ajar.
She was there.
Rekha.
She stood in front of the mirror, wrapped in a deep crimson robe that clung to her curves like satin over flame. Her black hair tumbled down her shoulders, wild and untamed. Her eyes glowed faintly—unnatural… or maybe it was the candlelight playing tricks on him.
"Shuvo," she said softly, her voice velvet and thorned. "You're not afraid of me, are you?"
"I... I thought you were Puja’s mother," he stammered, stepping back.
"I am," she purred. "But I'm more than that. I’m what this house craves… and now, so are you."
She approached slowly, the robe slipping open just enough for Shuvo’s eyes to catch a glimpse of flawless skin and full, heavy breasts swaying beneath. Her body—ripe, powerful, tempting—was unlike anything he’d ever seen.
Rekha circled behind him, fingertips grazing his bare chest, down his stomach. He shivered.
"You’re different," she whispered. "Pure. Innocent. That’s why the house chose you."
Before he could speak, her mouth was on his neck, kissing, biting, drawing gasps from his lips. He tried to pull away—but her arms were strong. Her robe dropped to the floor with a hush.
Her body was breathtaking. Thick, sultry curves that begged to be touched. Her breasts, large and full, seemed to defy gravity, and her hips—wide, commanding—swayed with otherworldly grace.
She pushed him gently to the old velvet couch, her hands working his pants down, slow and deliberate.
"You’ll remember this forever," she said, straddling him.
Their shadows danced across the mirror.
What happened next didn’t feel like a dream—but couldn’t have been real. It was as if Rekha fed off his arousal. Her body moved like silk and fire, and every thrust felt like falling deeper into a trance, deeper into her spell.
And in the mirror—Puja was watching.
But her expression wasn’t fear.
It was hunger.
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