16-08-2025, 05:15 PM
Chapter 20: Traces in the Dark
The Coimbatore night hummed with a sultry heat as Nivi stepped toward Raghavan’s car, the headlights catching the soft teal kurti she’d chosen—its fabric clinging to the swell of her breasts, the neckline dipping subtly to hint at her curves, the hem flaring over her hips to tease the roundness of her ass.
Beneath, lace panties hugged her pussy, already damp from the anticipation that had simmered since her dawn resolve—Anand’s indifference now a fading echo, replaced by the fire Raghavan’s gaze had ignited.
I’m not his wife tonight, she thought, adjusting her dupatta to graze her neckline, a shy smile playing on her lips. I’m someone new, teasing him, making him want me—but I’m not ready to give in yet. Her heart raced, a mix of nerves and excitement, her shyness tempering the boldness that had flared last night in a moment of reckless confession.
She slid into the passenger seat, the leather cool against her thighs, her kurti riding up slightly to reveal a sliver of skin above her leggings.
Raghavan’s eyes flicked to her, dark and intense, tracing the curve of her breasts, lingering on her legs as she crossed them, the movement pressing her pussy against the lace, sending a quiet jolt through her core. He’s watching every move, she thought, her cheeks warming with a shy flush, her pussy clenching at the memory of the boutique—the damp spot she’d left on this seat, his face bent close, maybe tasting her. Does he sense it now? The thought sent a shiver through her, her nipples hardening against the fabric, but she kept her gaze soft, teasing, not betraying the heat building inside.
“Nivi,” he said, his voice low, rough with a hunger that made her breath catch, as he started the engine. “That kurti… it’s doing things to me. You look like you’re up to something tonight.” His smile was slow, his eyes flicking to her chest, then back to her face, testing her.
She tilted her head, letting her hair fall over one shoulder, her voice soft but laced with a playful edge. “Maybe I am, sir. But you’ll have to keep up to find out.” Her words were coy, a shy tease rather than a bold promise, her heart pounding as his throat bobbed, his fingers tightening on the wheel.
The city buzzed outside—scooters darting, vendors calling over sizzling pakoras, neon signs casting flickers of light—but inside the car, their tension was a private pulse, her shyness fueling her power to keep him wanting.
They pulled into a quiet restaurant down a narrow street, its lanterns casting a warm, amber glow over low wooden tables. The air was thick with the scent of ghee and roasted spices, mingling with the faint jasmine of her perfume as they settled into a corner booth, tucked away from the crowd.
Raghavan’s gaze stayed on her, his eyes tracing her neckline where the kurti hugged her curves. “Pick whatever you like,” he said, sliding the menu across, his fingers brushing hers, lingering just enough to send a spark to her pussy.
He’s trying to pull me in, she thought, her cheeks flushing as she adjusted her dupatta, letting it slip to show a hint of skin, her shyness making the move feel daring.
“Don’t tempt me, sir,” she murmured, her voice light, teasing, as she leaned forward slightly, the kurti outlining her breasts. “I might choose something… spicy.”
Her eyes met his, a shy smile tugging her lips, her pussy throbbing as his gaze darkened, but she kept the moment delicate, not crossing into the explicit heat of last night’s call.
That was a slip, she thought, her clit aching with the memory of her fingers, his commands. Tonight, I tease—make him want without saying it.
Dinner unfolded in a dance of glances and subtle touches—his knee grazing hers under the table, her fingers brushing his as she passed a plate of dosa, each contact sending heat through her body. She savored the game, tossing her hair to let the kurti shift, revealing a sliver of collarbone, or leaning back to let her curves catch the light, all while keeping her smile shy, her words playful.
“You’re staring, sir,” she teased softly, licking a bit of chutney from her finger, the move slow and deliberate, her pussy pulsing as his jaw tightened. He’s hungry for me, she thought, her panties growing wetter, but her shyness held her back from more, letting the tension simmer.
“You’re making it hard not to,” he said, leaning closer, his voice a low growl that sent a shiver down her spine. “Every move you make, Nivi—that kurti, the way you’re sitting—it’s driving me crazy.”
His foot slid against hers again, bolder now, and her pussy clenched, a fresh wave of wetness soaking the lace. He wants to fuck me, she thought, her cheeks burning, but she ducked her head, letting her hair hide her flush, keeping the power in her hands.
Continues....
The Coimbatore night hummed with a sultry heat as Nivi stepped toward Raghavan’s car, the headlights catching the soft teal kurti she’d chosen—its fabric clinging to the swell of her breasts, the neckline dipping subtly to hint at her curves, the hem flaring over her hips to tease the roundness of her ass.
Beneath, lace panties hugged her pussy, already damp from the anticipation that had simmered since her dawn resolve—Anand’s indifference now a fading echo, replaced by the fire Raghavan’s gaze had ignited.
I’m not his wife tonight, she thought, adjusting her dupatta to graze her neckline, a shy smile playing on her lips. I’m someone new, teasing him, making him want me—but I’m not ready to give in yet. Her heart raced, a mix of nerves and excitement, her shyness tempering the boldness that had flared last night in a moment of reckless confession.
She slid into the passenger seat, the leather cool against her thighs, her kurti riding up slightly to reveal a sliver of skin above her leggings.
Raghavan’s eyes flicked to her, dark and intense, tracing the curve of her breasts, lingering on her legs as she crossed them, the movement pressing her pussy against the lace, sending a quiet jolt through her core. He’s watching every move, she thought, her cheeks warming with a shy flush, her pussy clenching at the memory of the boutique—the damp spot she’d left on this seat, his face bent close, maybe tasting her. Does he sense it now? The thought sent a shiver through her, her nipples hardening against the fabric, but she kept her gaze soft, teasing, not betraying the heat building inside.
“Nivi,” he said, his voice low, rough with a hunger that made her breath catch, as he started the engine. “That kurti… it’s doing things to me. You look like you’re up to something tonight.” His smile was slow, his eyes flicking to her chest, then back to her face, testing her.
She tilted her head, letting her hair fall over one shoulder, her voice soft but laced with a playful edge. “Maybe I am, sir. But you’ll have to keep up to find out.” Her words were coy, a shy tease rather than a bold promise, her heart pounding as his throat bobbed, his fingers tightening on the wheel.
The city buzzed outside—scooters darting, vendors calling over sizzling pakoras, neon signs casting flickers of light—but inside the car, their tension was a private pulse, her shyness fueling her power to keep him wanting.
They pulled into a quiet restaurant down a narrow street, its lanterns casting a warm, amber glow over low wooden tables. The air was thick with the scent of ghee and roasted spices, mingling with the faint jasmine of her perfume as they settled into a corner booth, tucked away from the crowd.
Raghavan’s gaze stayed on her, his eyes tracing her neckline where the kurti hugged her curves. “Pick whatever you like,” he said, sliding the menu across, his fingers brushing hers, lingering just enough to send a spark to her pussy.
He’s trying to pull me in, she thought, her cheeks flushing as she adjusted her dupatta, letting it slip to show a hint of skin, her shyness making the move feel daring.
“Don’t tempt me, sir,” she murmured, her voice light, teasing, as she leaned forward slightly, the kurti outlining her breasts. “I might choose something… spicy.”
Her eyes met his, a shy smile tugging her lips, her pussy throbbing as his gaze darkened, but she kept the moment delicate, not crossing into the explicit heat of last night’s call.
That was a slip, she thought, her clit aching with the memory of her fingers, his commands. Tonight, I tease—make him want without saying it.
Dinner unfolded in a dance of glances and subtle touches—his knee grazing hers under the table, her fingers brushing his as she passed a plate of dosa, each contact sending heat through her body. She savored the game, tossing her hair to let the kurti shift, revealing a sliver of collarbone, or leaning back to let her curves catch the light, all while keeping her smile shy, her words playful.
“You’re staring, sir,” she teased softly, licking a bit of chutney from her finger, the move slow and deliberate, her pussy pulsing as his jaw tightened. He’s hungry for me, she thought, her panties growing wetter, but her shyness held her back from more, letting the tension simmer.
“You’re making it hard not to,” he said, leaning closer, his voice a low growl that sent a shiver down her spine. “Every move you make, Nivi—that kurti, the way you’re sitting—it’s driving me crazy.”
His foot slid against hers again, bolder now, and her pussy clenched, a fresh wave of wetness soaking the lace. He wants to fuck me, she thought, her cheeks burning, but she ducked her head, letting her hair hide her flush, keeping the power in her hands.
Continues....
![[+]](https://xossipy.com/themes/sharepoint/collapse_collapsed.png)