20-06-2025, 03:39 PM
Abhi’s mouth parted slightly. “I…”
“It’s okay,” she interrupted, still gentle. “You don’t need to speak.”
She shifted closer—her thigh now flush against the outside of his.
Her palm splayed wider, the circles slower now.
Drifting just a little lower, then higher again, never crossing the line, but dancing around it.
He felt like he was suspended inside a breath he couldn’t finish.
His arm instinctively slid toward her, fingers curling lightly around her knee.
She didn’t stop him.
She leaned in—just enough for her lips to graze the curve of his jaw.
Not a kiss.
A scent.
A sensation.
Her mouth near him without taking.
Then came the whisper.
“Do you feel how warm your body’s become?”
He nodded—barely.
Her voice was silk-wrapped smoke. “That’s not just the pose, Abhi.”
A silence bloomed. Thick. Saturated.
And then, slowly, she uncurled from him—pulling away with the same deliberate grace as she entered.
She slid her hand off his stomach last, letting it linger a second longer than necessary, as if reluctant.
Abhi lay still, chest rising sharply now, the air feeling thinner without her weight.
Meghana sat back on her knees beside him, her skin glowing in the soft light, her lips parted slightly.
She looked down at him—not teasing, not smiling—just aware.
Deeply aware of what she’d just done.
What they’d both allowed.
“I think you’re ready,” she said softly.
“For what?” he asked, voice dry.
Her smile returned, small and devastating. “For the next pose.”
“It’s okay,” she interrupted, still gentle. “You don’t need to speak.”
She shifted closer—her thigh now flush against the outside of his.
Her palm splayed wider, the circles slower now.
Drifting just a little lower, then higher again, never crossing the line, but dancing around it.
He felt like he was suspended inside a breath he couldn’t finish.
His arm instinctively slid toward her, fingers curling lightly around her knee.
She didn’t stop him.
She leaned in—just enough for her lips to graze the curve of his jaw.
Not a kiss.
A scent.
A sensation.
Her mouth near him without taking.
Then came the whisper.
“Do you feel how warm your body’s become?”
He nodded—barely.
Her voice was silk-wrapped smoke. “That’s not just the pose, Abhi.”
A silence bloomed. Thick. Saturated.
And then, slowly, she uncurled from him—pulling away with the same deliberate grace as she entered.
She slid her hand off his stomach last, letting it linger a second longer than necessary, as if reluctant.
Abhi lay still, chest rising sharply now, the air feeling thinner without her weight.
Meghana sat back on her knees beside him, her skin glowing in the soft light, her lips parted slightly.
She looked down at him—not teasing, not smiling—just aware.
Deeply aware of what she’d just done.
What they’d both allowed.
“I think you’re ready,” she said softly.
“For what?” he asked, voice dry.
Her smile returned, small and devastating. “For the next pose.”
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