30-08-2025, 09:46 AM
Chapter 48: Suite Flames
The door to the honeymoon suite clicked shut behind them, sealing out the cool forest night, the air inside warm and heavy with the scent of fresh linens, jasmine candles flickering softly on side tables, casting golden shadows across the spacious hall.
The suite was luxurious—wooden beams overhead, a plush sofa in the center, leading to a balcony overlooking the dark trees, and doors branching to bedrooms, a bath, and what looked like a master with a king bed visible through a cracked door.
Nivi's heart pounded, her lips still tingling from the car blowjob, cum's aftertaste lingering, her pussy soaked, leggings damp against her folds.
Fuck, this place—secluded, romantic, but dirty; he's gonna ruin me here, claim what's his, she thought, body buzzing as Raghavan pulled her close, his hand sliding to her ass, squeezing hard through the fabric, possessive and rough.
He backed her against the wall, mouth crashing to hers, tongue invading deep, tasting his own cum on her lips, a growl rumbling in his chest.
"Nivi... finally alone—your body's mine, that pussy I've waited to wreck."
His voice was low, raw, hands roaming—one cupping her breast, thumb circling her nipple through the chiffon, making it harden instantly, the other dipping between her thighs, rubbing her clit through the leggings, feeling her wetness. Fuck, she's dripping from sucking me; confessions about Mohan fired her up—my slut, ready to submit, he thought, kissing her neck, sucking a fresh mark, his cock hardening again against her hip.
She moaned into his mouth, hands clutching his shirt, nails digging, her ass grinding back into his palm, thighs parting for his fingers.
"Daddy... yes, wreck me—your pussy, aching since the villa. Mohan's touches... nothing like yours, just teases, but you own."
Her voice was breathy, real, confessions spilling raw as their tongues tangled, her body arching, breasts pressing his chest, nipples aching for more.
Fuck, his hands—bold, knowing; deep connection, he sees my fire, encourages it, makes me feel alive, not guilty, she thought, revelations hitting: Anand ignored me, but Raghavan worships, dirties me right.
He pulled back slightly, eyes dark, locked on hers, hand slipping under her kurti, fingers tracing her bare waist, dipping to her navel, teasing the motherhood scars with gentle circles, then rougher, possessive.
"Tell me more, slut—while I touch you. Mohan's kisses, his cock in your mouth—did it make you wet, thinking of daddy's claim?" His dirty talk was real, probing her depths, connecting their shared heat, his fingers now under her leggings, brushing her soaked panties, one slipping aside to trace her folds, wet and hot. She's opening—confessions bond us, her fire mine; pussy clenching already, begging, he thought, kissing her collarbone, sucking lightly.
Nivi gasped, hips bucking into his hand, her pussy leaking onto his finger, clit throbbing under his thumb.
"Kisses... hot, bold—his hands on my thighs, ass, but I stopped, controlled. Bets—sucked him, owned him, but... thought of you, daddy—your tongue, your cum, ruining me proper."
Her words raw, voice sultry, hands sliding down to his belt, stroking his hardening cock through pants, feeling its thickness pulse.
Fuck, sharing this—deepens us, his dirty questions make me hotter, pussy dripping for his wrecking; he's my anchor, owning without caging, she thought, moaning as his finger dipped inside, shallow thrust, stretching her lightly.
Their connection burned—kisses turning frantic, his mouth on her neck, her hands in his hair, pulling him closer, bodies pressed, his finger thrusting deeper now, curling to hit her spot, her wetness smearing his palm.
"Good girl—confessing like a whore, pussy gripping my finger. Mohan's nothing; tonight, I fuck you raw, fill that hole."
His voice rough, real, hand kneading her breast harder, pinching nipple, the dirtiness laced with care, eyes meeting hers with intensity. Fuck, her eyes—vulnerable, fierce; this bond, her evolution from innocent to my queen, makes me ache to claim, he thought, adding a second finger, thrusting faster, her moans echoing in the hall.
She cried out, thighs trembling, her hand squeezing his cock, stroking through fabric, ass grinding back against the wall. "Daddy... yes, fill me—ruin it, make it yours forever.
Mohan's bets... fun, but empty; your touch, your words—deep, real, connecting my fire to yours."
Her confessions poured, raw and honest, body on edge, pussy clenching his fingers, clit pulsing under his thumb, He's not just fucking; he's seeing me—past the curves, the teases, to the woman trapped, now free.
She kissed him hard, tongue dirty, exploring, her free hand under his shirt, nails raking his back.
Suddenly, a knock echoed—sharp, at the door.
"Room service—dinner as ordered," a voice called, male, young. Nivi froze, eyes wide, pussy still gripping his fingers, heat flushing her cheeks.
Fuck, caught—his fingers in me, moans loud; the guy heard? she thought, panic mixing with thrill, pulling away quick, kurti disheveled, leggings damp. Raghavan growled low, fingers slipping out, wet and shiny, licking them clean with a wicked grin.
"Hide, slut—don't let him see your fire yet."
His voice teasing, naughty, adjusting his pants as she bolted to the nearest room, a bedroom, door cracking open just enough to peek.
The room service guy entered, pushing a cart—steaming plates of biryani, curries, naan, candles for the table—his eyes widening at the disarray: Raghavan's rumpled shirt, the air thick with sex scent, Nivi's faint moan lingering. He caught a glimpse—through the cracked door, Nivi's side profile, kurti slipped to show cleavage, ass curved as she bent to adjust, thighs slick. Fuck, hot—boss with a stunner, caught mid-tease, the guy thought, face flushing, cock stirring, but professional, setting the table quick.
Raghavan tipped him generously, voice firm.
"That's all—good night." Sending him away fast, door shutting, the guy's mind racing with the witnessed heat. Raghavan turned, grinning wicked, heading to the bedroom where Nivi hid, pushing the door open, finding her on the bed, legs crossed, face flushed, pussy still throbbing.
"Slut... he saw you—your tits teasing, ass out. Bet his cock's hard now, jerking to my queen." His naughty comment raw, eyes devouring her, stepping close, hand on her thigh again, squeezing.
Nivi laughed breathy, naughty thrill surging, pulling him down for a quick kiss.
"Fuck, daddy—embarrassing, but hot; his eyes burning like Ashok's cuck stare. You sent him away quick—protective." Her voice real, connecting their playfulness, body warming anew, but hunger hitting.
Fuck, his comment—dirty, making me wetter; deep bond, he guards my fire, she thought, stomach growling softly.
He chuckled, pulling her up.
"Dinner first—build the heat. Eat, then... prepare."
His tone promising, leading her to the hall table, candles lit, food aromatic. They sat close, his thigh against hers, feeding each other bites—biryani spicy on tongues, naan dipped in curry, his hand on her knee under the table, stroking subtly.
Conversation flowed raw, deep: "Nivi... your evolution—from shy wife to this fire; proud, but tell me, does guilt hit? Anand, the kids?" His question real, eyes soft but dirty, hand sliding higher, grazing her damp leggings.
She swallowed, voice honest, feeding him a bite, her fingers lingering on his lips.
"Guilt... sometimes, but fading. Anand's dead to me—drinking, ignoring; kids keep me grounded, Amma supports. You... awaken me, connect deep—dirty, but real."
Her words raw, revelations: Fuck, sharing this—bonds us beyond sex; his care, his dirtiness, perfect. Pussy tingling as his hand rubbed her inner thigh, heat building slow.
He nodded, eyes intense, hand cupping her core lightly, rubbing through fabric.
"Real—yes, my slut queen. After dinner... prepare separately. I'll hand you something—get ready in here." His voice low, promising the big event, dirtiness laced with connection, feeding her the last bite, kiss following, spicy and deep.
Dinner done, plates pushed aside, he stood, pulling her up, kiss lingering, hands on her ass, squeezing. "Wait here—I'll bring it."
He disappeared to the master bedroom, returning with a wrapped box, handing it over, eyes wicked.
"Gorgeous saree—lustful, red silk, low blouse, designed to tease your curves, nipples poking, ass dbangd perfect. Get ready in this room—shower, makeup slutty, anklet on. I'll prepare the main room—bed, ambiance for wrecking you."
His instructions raw, dirty, hand brushing her breast as he handed the box, cock tenting his pants again.
Nivi took it, body electric, pussy clenching at his words.
"Yes, daddy—lustful saree, for you to unwrap. Prepare... make it filthy."
Her voice sultry, real, kissing him quick before he left to the main room, door shutting. Fuck, the big event—finally, his cock in me, ruining; connection deep, his prep showing care, she thought, unwrapping the box: red silk saree, shimmering, blouse low-cut and tight, petticoat sheer, no bra or panties implied. He's thought of everything—my body displayed, owned; dirtiness with romance.
In her room, she stripped, kurti and leggings tossed, naked curves glowing under soft lights, pussy still wet, clit begging. Shower running hot, water cascading over her breasts, tracing nipples, down to her shaved folds, fingers teasing her clit lightly, building anticipation but not releasing.
Fuck, clean for him—pussy fresh, ready to gush, she thought, soaping curves, ass cheeks slick, revelations: This weekend—deep bond, his claim healing my emptiness. Drying off, skin glowing, she did makeup—slutty, red lips bold, eyes smoky, cheeks flushed, transforming pretty to vixen.
Slipping into the saree—blouse hugging her 34C breasts, low-cut showing swell, nipples faintly visible through silk, no bra; petticoat tied low on hips, saree dbangd sensual, pleats teasing thighs, pallu loose to flash cleavage. Anklet on, gold glinting against her ankle, thunder thighs smooth.
Fuck, lustful—tits begging, ass swaying; he'll lose it, she thought, turning, side view jaw-dropping, pussy tingling bare under silk. Ready, heart racing, she waited a moment, fire burning.
Meanwhile, in the main room, Raghavan prepared—bed sheets turned down, rose petals scattered, candles everywhere, soft music low and sensual, dim lights casting shadows, a bottle of oil on the side for massages, toys hidden but implied, ambiance filthy romantic.
He changed—silk robe loose, nothing under, cock semi-hard, waiting. Fuck, ambiance set—bed for her screams, oil for sliding in deep; connection raw, wrecking with care, he thought, sitting on the edge, eyes on the door, anticipating her arrival.
Nivi's hand on her door, ready to step out, the big event looming, their deep, dirty bond pulsing in the air.
Continues...
The door to the honeymoon suite clicked shut behind them, sealing out the cool forest night, the air inside warm and heavy with the scent of fresh linens, jasmine candles flickering softly on side tables, casting golden shadows across the spacious hall.
The suite was luxurious—wooden beams overhead, a plush sofa in the center, leading to a balcony overlooking the dark trees, and doors branching to bedrooms, a bath, and what looked like a master with a king bed visible through a cracked door.
Nivi's heart pounded, her lips still tingling from the car blowjob, cum's aftertaste lingering, her pussy soaked, leggings damp against her folds.
Fuck, this place—secluded, romantic, but dirty; he's gonna ruin me here, claim what's his, she thought, body buzzing as Raghavan pulled her close, his hand sliding to her ass, squeezing hard through the fabric, possessive and rough.
He backed her against the wall, mouth crashing to hers, tongue invading deep, tasting his own cum on her lips, a growl rumbling in his chest.
"Nivi... finally alone—your body's mine, that pussy I've waited to wreck."
His voice was low, raw, hands roaming—one cupping her breast, thumb circling her nipple through the chiffon, making it harden instantly, the other dipping between her thighs, rubbing her clit through the leggings, feeling her wetness. Fuck, she's dripping from sucking me; confessions about Mohan fired her up—my slut, ready to submit, he thought, kissing her neck, sucking a fresh mark, his cock hardening again against her hip.
She moaned into his mouth, hands clutching his shirt, nails digging, her ass grinding back into his palm, thighs parting for his fingers.
"Daddy... yes, wreck me—your pussy, aching since the villa. Mohan's touches... nothing like yours, just teases, but you own."
Her voice was breathy, real, confessions spilling raw as their tongues tangled, her body arching, breasts pressing his chest, nipples aching for more.
Fuck, his hands—bold, knowing; deep connection, he sees my fire, encourages it, makes me feel alive, not guilty, she thought, revelations hitting: Anand ignored me, but Raghavan worships, dirties me right.
He pulled back slightly, eyes dark, locked on hers, hand slipping under her kurti, fingers tracing her bare waist, dipping to her navel, teasing the motherhood scars with gentle circles, then rougher, possessive.
"Tell me more, slut—while I touch you. Mohan's kisses, his cock in your mouth—did it make you wet, thinking of daddy's claim?" His dirty talk was real, probing her depths, connecting their shared heat, his fingers now under her leggings, brushing her soaked panties, one slipping aside to trace her folds, wet and hot. She's opening—confessions bond us, her fire mine; pussy clenching already, begging, he thought, kissing her collarbone, sucking lightly.
Nivi gasped, hips bucking into his hand, her pussy leaking onto his finger, clit throbbing under his thumb.
"Kisses... hot, bold—his hands on my thighs, ass, but I stopped, controlled. Bets—sucked him, owned him, but... thought of you, daddy—your tongue, your cum, ruining me proper."
Her words raw, voice sultry, hands sliding down to his belt, stroking his hardening cock through pants, feeling its thickness pulse.
Fuck, sharing this—deepens us, his dirty questions make me hotter, pussy dripping for his wrecking; he's my anchor, owning without caging, she thought, moaning as his finger dipped inside, shallow thrust, stretching her lightly.
Their connection burned—kisses turning frantic, his mouth on her neck, her hands in his hair, pulling him closer, bodies pressed, his finger thrusting deeper now, curling to hit her spot, her wetness smearing his palm.
"Good girl—confessing like a whore, pussy gripping my finger. Mohan's nothing; tonight, I fuck you raw, fill that hole."
His voice rough, real, hand kneading her breast harder, pinching nipple, the dirtiness laced with care, eyes meeting hers with intensity. Fuck, her eyes—vulnerable, fierce; this bond, her evolution from innocent to my queen, makes me ache to claim, he thought, adding a second finger, thrusting faster, her moans echoing in the hall.
She cried out, thighs trembling, her hand squeezing his cock, stroking through fabric, ass grinding back against the wall. "Daddy... yes, fill me—ruin it, make it yours forever.
Mohan's bets... fun, but empty; your touch, your words—deep, real, connecting my fire to yours."
Her confessions poured, raw and honest, body on edge, pussy clenching his fingers, clit pulsing under his thumb, He's not just fucking; he's seeing me—past the curves, the teases, to the woman trapped, now free.
She kissed him hard, tongue dirty, exploring, her free hand under his shirt, nails raking his back.
Suddenly, a knock echoed—sharp, at the door.
"Room service—dinner as ordered," a voice called, male, young. Nivi froze, eyes wide, pussy still gripping his fingers, heat flushing her cheeks.
Fuck, caught—his fingers in me, moans loud; the guy heard? she thought, panic mixing with thrill, pulling away quick, kurti disheveled, leggings damp. Raghavan growled low, fingers slipping out, wet and shiny, licking them clean with a wicked grin.
"Hide, slut—don't let him see your fire yet."
His voice teasing, naughty, adjusting his pants as she bolted to the nearest room, a bedroom, door cracking open just enough to peek.
The room service guy entered, pushing a cart—steaming plates of biryani, curries, naan, candles for the table—his eyes widening at the disarray: Raghavan's rumpled shirt, the air thick with sex scent, Nivi's faint moan lingering. He caught a glimpse—through the cracked door, Nivi's side profile, kurti slipped to show cleavage, ass curved as she bent to adjust, thighs slick. Fuck, hot—boss with a stunner, caught mid-tease, the guy thought, face flushing, cock stirring, but professional, setting the table quick.
Raghavan tipped him generously, voice firm.
"That's all—good night." Sending him away fast, door shutting, the guy's mind racing with the witnessed heat. Raghavan turned, grinning wicked, heading to the bedroom where Nivi hid, pushing the door open, finding her on the bed, legs crossed, face flushed, pussy still throbbing.
"Slut... he saw you—your tits teasing, ass out. Bet his cock's hard now, jerking to my queen." His naughty comment raw, eyes devouring her, stepping close, hand on her thigh again, squeezing.
Nivi laughed breathy, naughty thrill surging, pulling him down for a quick kiss.
"Fuck, daddy—embarrassing, but hot; his eyes burning like Ashok's cuck stare. You sent him away quick—protective." Her voice real, connecting their playfulness, body warming anew, but hunger hitting.
Fuck, his comment—dirty, making me wetter; deep bond, he guards my fire, she thought, stomach growling softly.
He chuckled, pulling her up.
"Dinner first—build the heat. Eat, then... prepare."
His tone promising, leading her to the hall table, candles lit, food aromatic. They sat close, his thigh against hers, feeding each other bites—biryani spicy on tongues, naan dipped in curry, his hand on her knee under the table, stroking subtly.
Conversation flowed raw, deep: "Nivi... your evolution—from shy wife to this fire; proud, but tell me, does guilt hit? Anand, the kids?" His question real, eyes soft but dirty, hand sliding higher, grazing her damp leggings.
She swallowed, voice honest, feeding him a bite, her fingers lingering on his lips.
"Guilt... sometimes, but fading. Anand's dead to me—drinking, ignoring; kids keep me grounded, Amma supports. You... awaken me, connect deep—dirty, but real."
Her words raw, revelations: Fuck, sharing this—bonds us beyond sex; his care, his dirtiness, perfect. Pussy tingling as his hand rubbed her inner thigh, heat building slow.
He nodded, eyes intense, hand cupping her core lightly, rubbing through fabric.
"Real—yes, my slut queen. After dinner... prepare separately. I'll hand you something—get ready in here." His voice low, promising the big event, dirtiness laced with connection, feeding her the last bite, kiss following, spicy and deep.
Dinner done, plates pushed aside, he stood, pulling her up, kiss lingering, hands on her ass, squeezing. "Wait here—I'll bring it."
He disappeared to the master bedroom, returning with a wrapped box, handing it over, eyes wicked.
"Gorgeous saree—lustful, red silk, low blouse, designed to tease your curves, nipples poking, ass dbangd perfect. Get ready in this room—shower, makeup slutty, anklet on. I'll prepare the main room—bed, ambiance for wrecking you."
His instructions raw, dirty, hand brushing her breast as he handed the box, cock tenting his pants again.
Nivi took it, body electric, pussy clenching at his words.
"Yes, daddy—lustful saree, for you to unwrap. Prepare... make it filthy."
Her voice sultry, real, kissing him quick before he left to the main room, door shutting. Fuck, the big event—finally, his cock in me, ruining; connection deep, his prep showing care, she thought, unwrapping the box: red silk saree, shimmering, blouse low-cut and tight, petticoat sheer, no bra or panties implied. He's thought of everything—my body displayed, owned; dirtiness with romance.
In her room, she stripped, kurti and leggings tossed, naked curves glowing under soft lights, pussy still wet, clit begging. Shower running hot, water cascading over her breasts, tracing nipples, down to her shaved folds, fingers teasing her clit lightly, building anticipation but not releasing.
Fuck, clean for him—pussy fresh, ready to gush, she thought, soaping curves, ass cheeks slick, revelations: This weekend—deep bond, his claim healing my emptiness. Drying off, skin glowing, she did makeup—slutty, red lips bold, eyes smoky, cheeks flushed, transforming pretty to vixen.
Slipping into the saree—blouse hugging her 34C breasts, low-cut showing swell, nipples faintly visible through silk, no bra; petticoat tied low on hips, saree dbangd sensual, pleats teasing thighs, pallu loose to flash cleavage. Anklet on, gold glinting against her ankle, thunder thighs smooth.
Fuck, lustful—tits begging, ass swaying; he'll lose it, she thought, turning, side view jaw-dropping, pussy tingling bare under silk. Ready, heart racing, she waited a moment, fire burning.
Meanwhile, in the main room, Raghavan prepared—bed sheets turned down, rose petals scattered, candles everywhere, soft music low and sensual, dim lights casting shadows, a bottle of oil on the side for massages, toys hidden but implied, ambiance filthy romantic.
He changed—silk robe loose, nothing under, cock semi-hard, waiting. Fuck, ambiance set—bed for her screams, oil for sliding in deep; connection raw, wrecking with care, he thought, sitting on the edge, eyes on the door, anticipating her arrival.
Nivi's hand on her door, ready to step out, the big event looming, their deep, dirty bond pulsing in the air.
Continues...
![[+]](https://xossipy.com/themes/sharepoint/collapse_collapsed.png)