19-08-2025, 05:24 PM
Chapter 38: Forbidden Stops
The office weeks wove a tapestry of routine and simmering tension, Nivi’s presence a constant magnet, her outfits teasing just enough to keep the air electric—subtle curves under kurtis, hips swaying in leggings, a power that drew eyes without shouting.
Raghavan’s absence was a persistent ache, his rare calls—voice low, a husky “soon”—stoking her fire but leaving her unsatisfied, the uncertainty sharpening her edge. Fuck, he’s gone too long—his eyes, his commanding growl, they own me, she thought, fingers pausing over her keyboard, thighs brushing together as she worked. Mohan’s nightly drops had become a ritual, his car a quiet space of controlled flirtation—generic chats, his glances hungry, her responses measured, always dropped blocks from home to dodge neighbors’ whispers. It’s naughty but safe—Mohan’s spark fills the gap, but Raghavan’s hold keeps me tethered, she thought, her body warming during those rides, ass shifting subtly on the seat, a tease she couldn’t fully resist.
One evening, as Mohan drove her after a long day sorting files, the conversation turned flirty, his voice low and warm. “Nivi, you’re trouble—you know that? Lighting up the office, making it hard to focus,” he said, eyes flicking to her lips, then her thighs, a playful glint sparking. His hand rested on the gear shift, fingers brushing close to her knee, not touching but close enough to send a shiver.
She laughed, voice sultry, indirect. “Trouble? Mohan, I’m just doing my job. If you’re distracted, that’s on you.” Her body tingled, the banter igniting a naughty warmth, but she kept it light, leaning back to let her shoulder angle toward him, a subtle invitation. Fuck, he’s pushing—his eyes eating me, craving more, she thought, her mind dancing with caution and thrill. I’m Raghavan’s, but this game... it’s hot, testing my control.
He grinned, leaning slightly closer, the car’s hum a soft backdrop. “Your job? Nah, it’s that laugh, that sway—got me tangled up, Nivi. What’s the secret behind that glow?” His tone was teasing, naughty, his hand inching the gear shift, brushing her knee lightly, a bold move that sparked her skin.
Fuck, he’s bold—touching close, fishing for my fire, she thought, her body heating, ass shifting to ease away but not too far. “Secret? Just living, Mohan—finding my spark. Think you can handle it?” Her voice was playful, a naughty edge, eyes meeting his with a challenge, keeping the line firm but tempting. Raghavan’s absence makes this dangerous—my fire’s slipping, wanting to play.
The drops continued over days, each ride laced with flirty exchanges, Mohan’s compliments growing bolder. “You’re killing it, Nivi—those outfits, that confidence,” he’d say, eyes lingering on her curves as she stepped out, a naughty grin. “Confidence? You’re sweet,” she’d tease, voice low, turning to let her hip shift, a controlled brush against the door. Fuck, his words—stoking my heat, making me stumble, she thought, her body responding, thighs pressing together to stay grounded. I’m Raghavan’s, but Mohan’s chase... it’s pulling me in, just a little.
One evening, as they drove, Mohan’s eyes flicked to her ankles, voice casual but probing. “Nivi, that anklet I gave you—why not wearing it? Thought it’d look stunning on those legs.” His tone was light, but his gaze was hungry, tracing her calves, implying more.
Her heart skipped, the gold anklet’s memory flashing—delicate, the exact one she’d been saving for, a claim she hadn’t worn. Fuck, he’s noticing—wants it on me, a mark of his, she thought, a naughty thrill mixing with caution.
“Kept it for a special occasion,” she said, voice teasing, indirect, leaning forward slightly, letting her kurti pull taut across her breasts. “Gold like that needs the right moment.” Her body warmed, the idea of it on her ankle—his gift, a subtle tie—sparking heat.
Mohan nodded, smile widening, eyes dark with intent. “Fair—special’s right. Bring it tomorrow, yeah? Not to wear, just keep it in your bag. Might find that moment.” His voice was playful, but the naughty edge was clear, his hand brushing the gear shift near her thigh. Fuck, he’s planning—wants to see it on me, claim a piece, she thought, her body tingling, mind racing. Special occasion with him? Raghavan’s shadow looms, but this... it’s tempting, dangerous. “Maybe,” she purred, voice sultry, indirect, a subtle nod that lit his eyes with hope.
The next day, she tucked the anklet in her bag, curiosity burning, her body alive with the thrill of his boldness. After work, Mohan drove, the conversation flirty as always. “Got the anklet?” he asked, voice low, eyes flicking to her bag as they pulled away from the office. “Thought it’d suit you—those legs deserve gold.”
She smiled, voice teasing. “Brought it—special enough for you?” Her body warmed, the game pushing her fire, thighs shifting as she leaned toward him. Fuck, he’s relentless—wants to mark me, she thought, her mind torn between caution and the naughty pull of his attention.
Instead of heading to her usual drop, Mohan veered off, stopping in a secluded spot—trees shading the car, city lights faint, only the car’s headlights casting a dim glow.
“Let’s see it,” he said, stepping out, opening her door with a grin, his eyes intense. She got out, heart racing, handing him the box, her body tingling as he knelt, lifting her foot gently, his fingers warm on her ankle as he slipped the gold anklet on, its delicate chain glinting against her skin. Fuck, his touch—bold, claiming, on my leg, she thought, shivering as his fingers lingered, tracing her calf subtly, sending heat through her core.
He looked up, eyes dark, and planted a gentle kiss on her calf, lips soft and warm, making her body shudder, a naughty thrill spiking. “Perfect,” he murmured, voice low, naughty, standing slowly, his body closer now, the air thick.
“Your legs... they’re made for this, Nivi—gorgeous, demanding attention.” His words were flirty, eyes locked on hers, implying more.
Fuck, that kiss—his lips on my leg, shivering me, she thought, her body alive, ass shifting as she stood by the car. “You’re bold, Mohan,” she teased, voice sultry, stepping back, but the thrill pulled her in.
He stepped closer, eyes burning, and leaned in, lips brushing hers in a sudden kiss, soft at first, then deeper, his body pressing her against the car door, hands on her waist, her breasts grazing his chest in the dim light of the car’s glow.
Her body responded, tingling, lips parting under his, tongues brushing briefly, the heat wild. Fuck, his kiss—hungry, claiming, so fucking hot, she thought, but Raghavan’s shadow flashed—his hold, his fire, anchoring her. She stopped him, hand on his chest, pulling back, voice firm but breathy.
“Mohan, I’m... not free.” Her words were indirect, implying a tie without naming Raghavan, her body still warm from the kiss.
He paused, eyes wide but not shocked, a knowing grin spreading.
“Not free? I suspected—someone’s got your glow, your fire. I’m okay with that, Nivi—doesn’t dim how much I want you.” His voice was serious, naughty edge lingering, hand squeezing her waist gently, not pushing further but holding the tension. “Just... needed a taste.”
Fuck, he guesses—senses someone, maybe the boss, but doesn’t care? she thought, her body buzzing, the thrill of his acceptance pulling her in. “It’s complicated,” she said, voice sultry, indirect, stepping back to the car door, her ass brushing the handle. “Can’t go there.” Her mind raced: His kiss burned, but Raghavan... he’s my anchor, my fire.
Mohan nodded, eyes still hungry. “Complicated’s fine—your spark’s too much to ignore. Just a taste, yeah?” His voice was low, pleading, hand lingering on her arm, the anklet glinting on her ankle in the car’s light.
The tension surged, her fire wild without Raghavan’s presence. Fuck, his kiss, his touch on my leg—it’s tempting, pulling me, she thought, her body leaning in despite herself. She allowed it—one more kiss, slow and deep, tongues brushing, his hands on her waist, her breasts pressing his chest, ass against the car door, the secluded darkness amplifying the heat. Fuck, so hot—his mouth hungry, claiming, but not Raghavan’s, she thought, pulling back after a moment, voice breathy. “Enough—take me home, quick.”
He nodded, no argument, starting the car, the kiss lingering in the air, the anklet a quiet claim on her ankle. At her drop spot, blocks from home, she stepped out, heart pounding, mind racing: Fuck, I let him kiss me—twice, leg, lips, anklet on—Raghavan’s away, and I slipped, gave in to the fire.
I’m his, but Mohan’s pull... it’s strong. She hid the anklet in her bag, her body still buzzing, the thrill and guilt mixing.
That night, alone in her room, kids asleep, Nivi called Raghavan, voice soft, confessing. “Sir... Mohan kissed me tonight. I stopped it, but I let it happen—sorry, it felt wrong.” Her heart raced, the anklet’s weight in her bag heavy, her body warm from the memory of Mohan’s lips, his kiss on her leg.
Raghavan’s voice was calm, serious, a low rumble through the phone. “Nivi, you’re free—do what you want. I’m okay with it. I’m away for a month or so—business trips piling up. Explore, but be safe. You’re your own woman.” His words were steady, no anger, but a hint of distance that stung.
Fuck, free? Mohan’s kiss, his touch—hot, but Raghavan’s hold... it’s my anchor, she thought, her body conflicted, the thrill of freedom clashing with loyalty. His absence for a month—fuck, my fire’s wild, slipping with Mohan. What now?
Continues...
The office weeks wove a tapestry of routine and simmering tension, Nivi’s presence a constant magnet, her outfits teasing just enough to keep the air electric—subtle curves under kurtis, hips swaying in leggings, a power that drew eyes without shouting.
Raghavan’s absence was a persistent ache, his rare calls—voice low, a husky “soon”—stoking her fire but leaving her unsatisfied, the uncertainty sharpening her edge. Fuck, he’s gone too long—his eyes, his commanding growl, they own me, she thought, fingers pausing over her keyboard, thighs brushing together as she worked. Mohan’s nightly drops had become a ritual, his car a quiet space of controlled flirtation—generic chats, his glances hungry, her responses measured, always dropped blocks from home to dodge neighbors’ whispers. It’s naughty but safe—Mohan’s spark fills the gap, but Raghavan’s hold keeps me tethered, she thought, her body warming during those rides, ass shifting subtly on the seat, a tease she couldn’t fully resist.
One evening, as Mohan drove her after a long day sorting files, the conversation turned flirty, his voice low and warm. “Nivi, you’re trouble—you know that? Lighting up the office, making it hard to focus,” he said, eyes flicking to her lips, then her thighs, a playful glint sparking. His hand rested on the gear shift, fingers brushing close to her knee, not touching but close enough to send a shiver.
She laughed, voice sultry, indirect. “Trouble? Mohan, I’m just doing my job. If you’re distracted, that’s on you.” Her body tingled, the banter igniting a naughty warmth, but she kept it light, leaning back to let her shoulder angle toward him, a subtle invitation. Fuck, he’s pushing—his eyes eating me, craving more, she thought, her mind dancing with caution and thrill. I’m Raghavan’s, but this game... it’s hot, testing my control.
He grinned, leaning slightly closer, the car’s hum a soft backdrop. “Your job? Nah, it’s that laugh, that sway—got me tangled up, Nivi. What’s the secret behind that glow?” His tone was teasing, naughty, his hand inching the gear shift, brushing her knee lightly, a bold move that sparked her skin.
Fuck, he’s bold—touching close, fishing for my fire, she thought, her body heating, ass shifting to ease away but not too far. “Secret? Just living, Mohan—finding my spark. Think you can handle it?” Her voice was playful, a naughty edge, eyes meeting his with a challenge, keeping the line firm but tempting. Raghavan’s absence makes this dangerous—my fire’s slipping, wanting to play.
The drops continued over days, each ride laced with flirty exchanges, Mohan’s compliments growing bolder. “You’re killing it, Nivi—those outfits, that confidence,” he’d say, eyes lingering on her curves as she stepped out, a naughty grin. “Confidence? You’re sweet,” she’d tease, voice low, turning to let her hip shift, a controlled brush against the door. Fuck, his words—stoking my heat, making me stumble, she thought, her body responding, thighs pressing together to stay grounded. I’m Raghavan’s, but Mohan’s chase... it’s pulling me in, just a little.
One evening, as they drove, Mohan’s eyes flicked to her ankles, voice casual but probing. “Nivi, that anklet I gave you—why not wearing it? Thought it’d look stunning on those legs.” His tone was light, but his gaze was hungry, tracing her calves, implying more.
Her heart skipped, the gold anklet’s memory flashing—delicate, the exact one she’d been saving for, a claim she hadn’t worn. Fuck, he’s noticing—wants it on me, a mark of his, she thought, a naughty thrill mixing with caution.
“Kept it for a special occasion,” she said, voice teasing, indirect, leaning forward slightly, letting her kurti pull taut across her breasts. “Gold like that needs the right moment.” Her body warmed, the idea of it on her ankle—his gift, a subtle tie—sparking heat.
Mohan nodded, smile widening, eyes dark with intent. “Fair—special’s right. Bring it tomorrow, yeah? Not to wear, just keep it in your bag. Might find that moment.” His voice was playful, but the naughty edge was clear, his hand brushing the gear shift near her thigh. Fuck, he’s planning—wants to see it on me, claim a piece, she thought, her body tingling, mind racing. Special occasion with him? Raghavan’s shadow looms, but this... it’s tempting, dangerous. “Maybe,” she purred, voice sultry, indirect, a subtle nod that lit his eyes with hope.
The next day, she tucked the anklet in her bag, curiosity burning, her body alive with the thrill of his boldness. After work, Mohan drove, the conversation flirty as always. “Got the anklet?” he asked, voice low, eyes flicking to her bag as they pulled away from the office. “Thought it’d suit you—those legs deserve gold.”
She smiled, voice teasing. “Brought it—special enough for you?” Her body warmed, the game pushing her fire, thighs shifting as she leaned toward him. Fuck, he’s relentless—wants to mark me, she thought, her mind torn between caution and the naughty pull of his attention.
Instead of heading to her usual drop, Mohan veered off, stopping in a secluded spot—trees shading the car, city lights faint, only the car’s headlights casting a dim glow.
“Let’s see it,” he said, stepping out, opening her door with a grin, his eyes intense. She got out, heart racing, handing him the box, her body tingling as he knelt, lifting her foot gently, his fingers warm on her ankle as he slipped the gold anklet on, its delicate chain glinting against her skin. Fuck, his touch—bold, claiming, on my leg, she thought, shivering as his fingers lingered, tracing her calf subtly, sending heat through her core.
He looked up, eyes dark, and planted a gentle kiss on her calf, lips soft and warm, making her body shudder, a naughty thrill spiking. “Perfect,” he murmured, voice low, naughty, standing slowly, his body closer now, the air thick.
“Your legs... they’re made for this, Nivi—gorgeous, demanding attention.” His words were flirty, eyes locked on hers, implying more.
Fuck, that kiss—his lips on my leg, shivering me, she thought, her body alive, ass shifting as she stood by the car. “You’re bold, Mohan,” she teased, voice sultry, stepping back, but the thrill pulled her in.
He stepped closer, eyes burning, and leaned in, lips brushing hers in a sudden kiss, soft at first, then deeper, his body pressing her against the car door, hands on her waist, her breasts grazing his chest in the dim light of the car’s glow.
Her body responded, tingling, lips parting under his, tongues brushing briefly, the heat wild. Fuck, his kiss—hungry, claiming, so fucking hot, she thought, but Raghavan’s shadow flashed—his hold, his fire, anchoring her. She stopped him, hand on his chest, pulling back, voice firm but breathy.
“Mohan, I’m... not free.” Her words were indirect, implying a tie without naming Raghavan, her body still warm from the kiss.
He paused, eyes wide but not shocked, a knowing grin spreading.
“Not free? I suspected—someone’s got your glow, your fire. I’m okay with that, Nivi—doesn’t dim how much I want you.” His voice was serious, naughty edge lingering, hand squeezing her waist gently, not pushing further but holding the tension. “Just... needed a taste.”
Fuck, he guesses—senses someone, maybe the boss, but doesn’t care? she thought, her body buzzing, the thrill of his acceptance pulling her in. “It’s complicated,” she said, voice sultry, indirect, stepping back to the car door, her ass brushing the handle. “Can’t go there.” Her mind raced: His kiss burned, but Raghavan... he’s my anchor, my fire.
Mohan nodded, eyes still hungry. “Complicated’s fine—your spark’s too much to ignore. Just a taste, yeah?” His voice was low, pleading, hand lingering on her arm, the anklet glinting on her ankle in the car’s light.
The tension surged, her fire wild without Raghavan’s presence. Fuck, his kiss, his touch on my leg—it’s tempting, pulling me, she thought, her body leaning in despite herself. She allowed it—one more kiss, slow and deep, tongues brushing, his hands on her waist, her breasts pressing his chest, ass against the car door, the secluded darkness amplifying the heat. Fuck, so hot—his mouth hungry, claiming, but not Raghavan’s, she thought, pulling back after a moment, voice breathy. “Enough—take me home, quick.”
He nodded, no argument, starting the car, the kiss lingering in the air, the anklet a quiet claim on her ankle. At her drop spot, blocks from home, she stepped out, heart pounding, mind racing: Fuck, I let him kiss me—twice, leg, lips, anklet on—Raghavan’s away, and I slipped, gave in to the fire.
I’m his, but Mohan’s pull... it’s strong. She hid the anklet in her bag, her body still buzzing, the thrill and guilt mixing.
That night, alone in her room, kids asleep, Nivi called Raghavan, voice soft, confessing. “Sir... Mohan kissed me tonight. I stopped it, but I let it happen—sorry, it felt wrong.” Her heart raced, the anklet’s weight in her bag heavy, her body warm from the memory of Mohan’s lips, his kiss on her leg.
Raghavan’s voice was calm, serious, a low rumble through the phone. “Nivi, you’re free—do what you want. I’m okay with it. I’m away for a month or so—business trips piling up. Explore, but be safe. You’re your own woman.” His words were steady, no anger, but a hint of distance that stung.
Fuck, free? Mohan’s kiss, his touch—hot, but Raghavan’s hold... it’s my anchor, she thought, her body conflicted, the thrill of freedom clashing with loyalty. His absence for a month—fuck, my fire’s wild, slipping with Mohan. What now?
Continues...
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