27-09-2025, 05:22 PM
The office buzzed with its usual chaos, but Ranjeet’s presence made it bearable. One day, as I was finalizing a campaign draft, my eyes burning from hours at the screen, he came to my desk, leaning against it with that familiar teasing grin. “Nabila, you’ve been glued to that screen all day. How about a coffee break? Somewhere better than the canteen’s burnt socks.”
I looked up, catching the playful glint in his eyes, my heart skipping a beat. “Coffee, huh?” I said, leaning back in my chair, my tone teasing. “What’s the catch, Ranjeet? Trying to dodge Priya’s latest conspiracy about you stealing the campaign lead?”
He chuckled, a low, warm sound that sent a shiver through me. “Caught me,” he said, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “But seriously, there’s a café down the street.Very nice coffee they make. Just you and me. What do you say?”
I wanted to but hesitated for a moment.
“Ohh…Come on yaar…It’s just a coffee.What’s there to think so much in it?” He said irritatingly.
“Ok…ok…fine.But I need to call Ammi first. She’ll have my head if I’m late without warning” I replied finally.
He nodded, his grin widening. “Alright. I’ll wait by the lift. Don’t keep me waiting too long.”
I walked towards the lift after signing off from work, my fingers trembling slightly as I dialed Ammi. “Ammi, I’ve got an unexpected meeting at work,” I said, keeping my voice light. “I’ll be a bit late coming home.”
“Ohhhh….How would it take?” She asked worriedly.
“Not much Ammi…May be around an hour…” I replied to her.
“Ok….try to hurry as much as possible….” She spoke before cutting the call.
I hung up, my resolve firming as I joined Ranjeet in the lift.
The café, a cozy nook in Bandra with exposed brick walls and soft jazz playing, felt like a sanctuary. We settled into a corner booth, the warm glow of a lantern casting shadows across Ranjeet’s face as he ordered us cappuccinos.
"You're absolutely radiant today," he murmured, his tone smooth as velvet, eyes set on me with that appreciative gaze. "This Salwar Kameez really suits you, Nabila. It just reminds me of the song- Tenu suit suit karda…..”
I giggled, the sound escaping before I could stop it, hearing him try to carry the tune. I instinctively adjusted my dupatta, glancing at the couple at the next table. "Ranjeet… please stop," I whispered, a laugh still bubbling in my voice. "People are watching us."
He leaned forward, a playful smirk on his lips, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial hum. "Let them watch. Let them see what a man looks like when he's sitting across from the most beautiful woman in the room. They're probably just jealous."
Our coffee arrived, and the barista gave us a knowing smile. I hid my own behind my cup, the warmth spreading through my fingers. "You're impossible," I said, but there was no heat in it. "And you're one to talk about causing a distraction."
"Me?" He feigned innocence, placing a hand on his chest.
"Yes, you," I teased. "Walking around the office with your sleeves rolled up just so. It's a public menace. Someone should file a complaint."
He laughed, a rich, genuine sound that made my heart flutter. His expression then softened into something more tender as his eyes lingered on the emerald green of my suit. "You know, my Anaya would love that colour on you. She's obsessed with anything that reminds her of a peacock."
The mention of his daughter was a familiar, intimate current between us. "How is she?" I asked, my voice softening too. "Did you speak to her today?"
"I did. Video call last night," he said, a familiar mix of love and longing in his voice. "She showed me a painting she did of the beach. It was good," he chuckled. "Her grandparents are spoiling her rotten, as usual. She's happy in Goa. But I miss her like crazy." He paused, his gaze becoming distant for a second.
He said it so simply, a statement of fact, a memory that existed alongside us without casting a shadow. It was one of the things I admired most about him-the way he carried his past with grace.
"It must be so different for you," he said, his focus returning entirely to me. "Having Adnan with you every day. I’m jealous, honestly. Even on the hard days."
"The hard days are most days right now," I confessed, the playful mood giving way to our reality. "I love having him, he's my whole world. But I feel like I'm holding that world in my hands, and it's made of glass. Ammi is constantly worried, watching my every move, terrified of what people will say, how it will affect him..."
"Forget people," he said, his voice firm, his hand covering mine on the table. The casual touch sent a jolt straight through me. "This is about you. About us."
"I don't even know what I want anymore," I confessed, my voice dropping to a whisper. "Except... this. These moments. Where I can just breathe."
"Then let's have more of them," he said, his thumb beginning to stroke my knuckles in a slow, hypnotic rhythm. "That's why I asked you here, Nabila.I just want to make love to you….want to worship that beautiful body…Let’s unite again."
His words hit the very core of my existence.
"An evening?" I whispered. "Well…I don't know ... .Can't say now ... .but suppose if it’s yes, then how?"
"My flat," he said, his voice low and urgent. "Come over after work. No parents, no pasts, just us. I'll cook for you. We will listen to music... I just want to be with you, properly. Without hiding. I want to hold you and not worry about anything or anyone in the world." He leaned in closer, his gaze intense. "I want to feel you in my arms again, Nabila. I need it. I need you."
We stayed in the café, talking about our lives-his childhood in Pune, my love for old Bollywood songs, the way we both dreamed of quieter days by the sea. The world outside faded, and for those moments, I felt free, alive.
I reached Ammi’s flat late, the clock ticking past dinner time. Ammi and Adnan were already at the table, plates piled with curry and chapati. Adnan’s face lit up as I walked in, his small arms reaching for me. “Mumma! You’re back!”
“Hey, baba,” I said, hugging him tightly, my heart swelling.Ammi’s eyes were sharp, questioning. “Traffic was awful,” I said quickly. “And the meeting ran long. Sorry.”
She nodded, but her gaze lingered. “Eat, Nabila. Adnan was waiting for you.”
As we ate, my phone buzzed with WhatsApp messages from Ranjeet. Decided yet, wildfire? I’m dreaming of tomorrow already. I glanced at Ammi, then typed a quick reply: Still thinking. I’ll let you know.
After dinner, as Adnan chattered about his day, I made my decision. I texted Ranjeet: Yes. Tomorrow. But I need to sort things with Ammi.
His reply was instant: You’ve made me the happiest man alive. I’ll leave early. Come to my flat after work. It’ll be perfect.
I turned to Ammi as she cleared the dishes, my voice steady. “Ammi, the company’s working on a big deal with some American clients. We’re swamped right now. Tomorrow, I’ll need to leave early in the morning and might be late coming home.”
Her eyes narrowed, but she didn’t argue. “American clients, huh? Just make sure you’re here for Bittu when he needs you.”
“I will,” I promised.
The next morning, I woke up with a plan to surprise Ranjeet. I left Ammi’s flat early, Adnan still asleep, and headed to a very well known shopping mall. My heart raced as I browsed a lingerie boutique, choosing a sleek, black silk nighty that felt daring, sensual-a secret weapon for the evening ahead.I tucked the purchase into my bag and headed to the office.
At work, I played my part carefully. When Ranjeet caught me by the printer, his eyes hopeful, I leaned close and whispered, “I can’t come to your flat tonight. Adnan’s not feeling well, so I need to leave early.”
His face fell, disappointment clear. “Oh. Okay, Jaan. Is he alright?”
“He’ll be fine,” I said, hiding my smile. “Just needs his mumma tonight.”
After work, I bypassed the usual route to the train station and instead took a cab towards the sea. The destination: The ******, Nariman Point. The name itself felt like an incantation, a password to another world. I’d booked a Premier Suite with an ocean view online the night before, my finger trembling over the ‘confirm’ button, my heart pounding a wild, exhilarating rhythm against my ribs.
Checking in felt like stepping into a new skin. The hushed, opulent lobby, with its gleaming marble and the faint, clean scent of lemongrass, was a world away from the cluttered reality of my life. The woman at the desk was discreet and professional, and for those few moments, I wasn't a runaway wife or a worried mother; I was a woman with a purpose, a secret, an adventure of her own making.
The suite door clicked shut behind me, and the sound was a definitive seal, locking the chaos of the world out. The first thing that struck me was the silence, followed by the breathtaking view. The room was a vast expanse of understated luxury, but the real masterpiece was the floor-to-ceiling window. It looked out over the majestic, endless grey of the Arabian Sea, and below, the iconic curve of the Queen’s Necklace was just beginning to glitter as the sun dipped towards the horizon. A king-sized bed, a mountain of soft, white pillows, stood like an invitation in the center of the room. This wasn't just a room; it was a stage.
My first act was to wash away the day. The bathroom was a temple of marble and glass. I turned the taps on, and hot, steaming water gushed into the deep, sunken tub.I poured in the hotel’s bath oil-sandalwood and rose, thick and intoxicating-watching it swirl into the water, turning it silky and fragrant. Slipping out of my clothes, I sank into the tub, the hot water enveloping me like a lover’s touch, kissing my skin from my collarbone to the curve of my hips. It teased my breasts, lapping at my nipples, sending shivers through me as I leaned back, letting the warmth melt the tension from my bones. I glided a loofah over my skin, slow and deliberate, savoring the slick sensation, my fingers brushing the sensitive skin of my inner thighs, lingering just long enough to stoke the fire building within me. The rose-scented steam curled around me, and for a moment, I closed my eyes, imagining hands that weren’t my own.
When I stepped out, the heated marble floor warmed my bare feet, and I wrapped myself in a robe so plush it felt like being caressed by clouds. Standing before the full-length mirror, my skin glowed from the bath, my eyes dark with anticipation. I reached for the black silk nighty I had bought on a reckless whim, its fabric cool and weightless in my hands. I let the robe fall, the air kissing my bare skin, raising goosebumps and tightening my nipples instantly.
As I slipped the nighty on, it poured over me like liquid midnight, clinging to every curve, the silk so light it felt like a whisper. The spaghetti straps rested delicately on my shoulders, the plunging neckline bared the swell of my breasts, where my pulse thrummed visibly. The hem skimmed around my knees, it fluttered with my every step, teasing my knees. I wore nothing beneath-no panties, no bra-just the silk’s sensual glide against my skin, the fabric catching on my hardened nipples, making them press boldly against the thin material. In the mirror, I saw a woman transformed: my warm, honeyed skin glowed against the black silk, my hips swaying as I turned, the nighty a second skin that both concealed and revealed, daring anyone to look closer.
I reached for my perfume, a French blend I had bought as a quiet act of defiance, its heavy glass bottle cool in my hands. I spritzed it, the dark tuberose, amber, and spice blooming on my skin like a secret unfolding. I applied it with care: a mist at the hollow of my throat, where my pulse hammered; a touch on my wrists, the skin soft and sensitive; and a bold spray along my inner thighs, where the warmth of my body turned the scent into something primal, intoxicating. The fragrance wove into the silk, mingling with my own heat, creating an aura that felt like a spell.
I paused for one final, practical act. From a hidden pocket in my handbag, I pulled a small box of lubricated extra thin condoms, their foil wrappers glinting in the soft light. I placed three on the bedside table, their presence grounding me, a reminder that I was in control, that this night was mine to shape. This wasn’t a fantasy-it was real, raw and deliberate.
In the mirror, I met the eyes of a stranger-confident, daring, her loose waves of hair framing a face alight with desire. My fingers were steady as I picked up my phone, the screen’s glow illuminating the certainty in my heart. I typed the message to Ranjeet, each word a spark igniting the night: The ******, Nariman Point. Suite 1402. Come now. Surprise. The two blue ticks flashed instantly, and my body hummed with the promise of what was to come, every nerve alive, ready.
A soft knock at the door snapped me out of my trance. My bare feet sank into the plush carpet as I glided across the room, the silk nighty whispering against my skin, my pulse points still warm with the perfume I applied.
I swung the door open, and there was him, my Ranjeet, with his dark eyes wide, practically sparkling with shock and mischief as they roamed over me. His usual cocky grin wobbled, replaced by a giddy, almost boyish smirk as he clocked the way the silk dipped low at my neckline, clinging to my hips and teasing my knees.
“Nabila,” he said, his voice a playful rumble, “You are a bad girl, aren’t you?”
He stepped inside, the door clicking shut, trapping us in this lush, private bubble. He was in dark jeans and a fitted black shirt that showed off his lean frame, but the way his shoulders bounced with barely-contained energy screamed he wasn’t ready for this. His eyes flicked to the suite-the plush bed, the condoms winking on the bedside table-then back to me, his grin widening as he noticed the silk betraying every curve, the faint outline of my nipples perked against the fabric.
“Surprise…” I purred.
“I liked it” he teased, his voice dripping with delight as he took a step closer, the air between us buzzing with playful heat.
I tilted my head, letting my hair spill over one shoulder, the jasmine of my perfume floating his way. His took a deep breathe, and then in a flickr of moment he was on me, pulling me into his arms with a laugh that echoed through the room.
His ragged breath, hot and tasting of the city and pure want, ghosted over my mouth for a fraction of a second before his lips crashed against mine. It wasn't a question, but an answer. The kiss was all heat and no hesitation, a raw, explosive release of the shock and awe that had been building in him. His lips were impossibly soft yet firm, demanding and worshipful all at once, molding to mine as if they were made to be there. For a second, I was just lost in the force of it, a sharp gasp of surrender my only response.
My body reacted before my mind did. My hands, which had been hanging uselessly at my sides, flew up to his chest, not to push him away, but to anchor myself to him, my fingers caught the collar of his shirt, feeling the frantic, hammering beat of his heart beneath my palm. I melted against him, my lips parting under his in a silent invitation he immediately accepted.
His tongue, hot and slick, traced the seam of my lips before sweeping inside, a bold, confident exploration that met my own in a tangled, desperate dance. It was velvet and fire, a claiming that sent a shiver straight down my spine. This was what I wanted. This was the prize.
I looked up, catching the playful glint in his eyes, my heart skipping a beat. “Coffee, huh?” I said, leaning back in my chair, my tone teasing. “What’s the catch, Ranjeet? Trying to dodge Priya’s latest conspiracy about you stealing the campaign lead?”
He chuckled, a low, warm sound that sent a shiver through me. “Caught me,” he said, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “But seriously, there’s a café down the street.Very nice coffee they make. Just you and me. What do you say?”
I wanted to but hesitated for a moment.
“Ohh…Come on yaar…It’s just a coffee.What’s there to think so much in it?” He said irritatingly.
“Ok…ok…fine.But I need to call Ammi first. She’ll have my head if I’m late without warning” I replied finally.
He nodded, his grin widening. “Alright. I’ll wait by the lift. Don’t keep me waiting too long.”
I walked towards the lift after signing off from work, my fingers trembling slightly as I dialed Ammi. “Ammi, I’ve got an unexpected meeting at work,” I said, keeping my voice light. “I’ll be a bit late coming home.”
“Ohhhh….How would it take?” She asked worriedly.
“Not much Ammi…May be around an hour…” I replied to her.
“Ok….try to hurry as much as possible….” She spoke before cutting the call.
I hung up, my resolve firming as I joined Ranjeet in the lift.
The café, a cozy nook in Bandra with exposed brick walls and soft jazz playing, felt like a sanctuary. We settled into a corner booth, the warm glow of a lantern casting shadows across Ranjeet’s face as he ordered us cappuccinos.
"You're absolutely radiant today," he murmured, his tone smooth as velvet, eyes set on me with that appreciative gaze. "This Salwar Kameez really suits you, Nabila. It just reminds me of the song- Tenu suit suit karda…..”
I giggled, the sound escaping before I could stop it, hearing him try to carry the tune. I instinctively adjusted my dupatta, glancing at the couple at the next table. "Ranjeet… please stop," I whispered, a laugh still bubbling in my voice. "People are watching us."
He leaned forward, a playful smirk on his lips, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial hum. "Let them watch. Let them see what a man looks like when he's sitting across from the most beautiful woman in the room. They're probably just jealous."
Our coffee arrived, and the barista gave us a knowing smile. I hid my own behind my cup, the warmth spreading through my fingers. "You're impossible," I said, but there was no heat in it. "And you're one to talk about causing a distraction."
"Me?" He feigned innocence, placing a hand on his chest.
"Yes, you," I teased. "Walking around the office with your sleeves rolled up just so. It's a public menace. Someone should file a complaint."
He laughed, a rich, genuine sound that made my heart flutter. His expression then softened into something more tender as his eyes lingered on the emerald green of my suit. "You know, my Anaya would love that colour on you. She's obsessed with anything that reminds her of a peacock."
The mention of his daughter was a familiar, intimate current between us. "How is she?" I asked, my voice softening too. "Did you speak to her today?"
"I did. Video call last night," he said, a familiar mix of love and longing in his voice. "She showed me a painting she did of the beach. It was good," he chuckled. "Her grandparents are spoiling her rotten, as usual. She's happy in Goa. But I miss her like crazy." He paused, his gaze becoming distant for a second.
He said it so simply, a statement of fact, a memory that existed alongside us without casting a shadow. It was one of the things I admired most about him-the way he carried his past with grace.
"It must be so different for you," he said, his focus returning entirely to me. "Having Adnan with you every day. I’m jealous, honestly. Even on the hard days."
"The hard days are most days right now," I confessed, the playful mood giving way to our reality. "I love having him, he's my whole world. But I feel like I'm holding that world in my hands, and it's made of glass. Ammi is constantly worried, watching my every move, terrified of what people will say, how it will affect him..."
"Forget people," he said, his voice firm, his hand covering mine on the table. The casual touch sent a jolt straight through me. "This is about you. About us."
"I don't even know what I want anymore," I confessed, my voice dropping to a whisper. "Except... this. These moments. Where I can just breathe."
"Then let's have more of them," he said, his thumb beginning to stroke my knuckles in a slow, hypnotic rhythm. "That's why I asked you here, Nabila.I just want to make love to you….want to worship that beautiful body…Let’s unite again."
His words hit the very core of my existence.
"An evening?" I whispered. "Well…I don't know ... .Can't say now ... .but suppose if it’s yes, then how?"
"My flat," he said, his voice low and urgent. "Come over after work. No parents, no pasts, just us. I'll cook for you. We will listen to music... I just want to be with you, properly. Without hiding. I want to hold you and not worry about anything or anyone in the world." He leaned in closer, his gaze intense. "I want to feel you in my arms again, Nabila. I need it. I need you."
We stayed in the café, talking about our lives-his childhood in Pune, my love for old Bollywood songs, the way we both dreamed of quieter days by the sea. The world outside faded, and for those moments, I felt free, alive.
I reached Ammi’s flat late, the clock ticking past dinner time. Ammi and Adnan were already at the table, plates piled with curry and chapati. Adnan’s face lit up as I walked in, his small arms reaching for me. “Mumma! You’re back!”
“Hey, baba,” I said, hugging him tightly, my heart swelling.Ammi’s eyes were sharp, questioning. “Traffic was awful,” I said quickly. “And the meeting ran long. Sorry.”
She nodded, but her gaze lingered. “Eat, Nabila. Adnan was waiting for you.”
As we ate, my phone buzzed with WhatsApp messages from Ranjeet. Decided yet, wildfire? I’m dreaming of tomorrow already. I glanced at Ammi, then typed a quick reply: Still thinking. I’ll let you know.
After dinner, as Adnan chattered about his day, I made my decision. I texted Ranjeet: Yes. Tomorrow. But I need to sort things with Ammi.
His reply was instant: You’ve made me the happiest man alive. I’ll leave early. Come to my flat after work. It’ll be perfect.
I turned to Ammi as she cleared the dishes, my voice steady. “Ammi, the company’s working on a big deal with some American clients. We’re swamped right now. Tomorrow, I’ll need to leave early in the morning and might be late coming home.”
Her eyes narrowed, but she didn’t argue. “American clients, huh? Just make sure you’re here for Bittu when he needs you.”
“I will,” I promised.
The next morning, I woke up with a plan to surprise Ranjeet. I left Ammi’s flat early, Adnan still asleep, and headed to a very well known shopping mall. My heart raced as I browsed a lingerie boutique, choosing a sleek, black silk nighty that felt daring, sensual-a secret weapon for the evening ahead.I tucked the purchase into my bag and headed to the office.
At work, I played my part carefully. When Ranjeet caught me by the printer, his eyes hopeful, I leaned close and whispered, “I can’t come to your flat tonight. Adnan’s not feeling well, so I need to leave early.”
His face fell, disappointment clear. “Oh. Okay, Jaan. Is he alright?”
“He’ll be fine,” I said, hiding my smile. “Just needs his mumma tonight.”
After work, I bypassed the usual route to the train station and instead took a cab towards the sea. The destination: The ******, Nariman Point. The name itself felt like an incantation, a password to another world. I’d booked a Premier Suite with an ocean view online the night before, my finger trembling over the ‘confirm’ button, my heart pounding a wild, exhilarating rhythm against my ribs.
Checking in felt like stepping into a new skin. The hushed, opulent lobby, with its gleaming marble and the faint, clean scent of lemongrass, was a world away from the cluttered reality of my life. The woman at the desk was discreet and professional, and for those few moments, I wasn't a runaway wife or a worried mother; I was a woman with a purpose, a secret, an adventure of her own making.
The suite door clicked shut behind me, and the sound was a definitive seal, locking the chaos of the world out. The first thing that struck me was the silence, followed by the breathtaking view. The room was a vast expanse of understated luxury, but the real masterpiece was the floor-to-ceiling window. It looked out over the majestic, endless grey of the Arabian Sea, and below, the iconic curve of the Queen’s Necklace was just beginning to glitter as the sun dipped towards the horizon. A king-sized bed, a mountain of soft, white pillows, stood like an invitation in the center of the room. This wasn't just a room; it was a stage.
My first act was to wash away the day. The bathroom was a temple of marble and glass. I turned the taps on, and hot, steaming water gushed into the deep, sunken tub.I poured in the hotel’s bath oil-sandalwood and rose, thick and intoxicating-watching it swirl into the water, turning it silky and fragrant. Slipping out of my clothes, I sank into the tub, the hot water enveloping me like a lover’s touch, kissing my skin from my collarbone to the curve of my hips. It teased my breasts, lapping at my nipples, sending shivers through me as I leaned back, letting the warmth melt the tension from my bones. I glided a loofah over my skin, slow and deliberate, savoring the slick sensation, my fingers brushing the sensitive skin of my inner thighs, lingering just long enough to stoke the fire building within me. The rose-scented steam curled around me, and for a moment, I closed my eyes, imagining hands that weren’t my own.
When I stepped out, the heated marble floor warmed my bare feet, and I wrapped myself in a robe so plush it felt like being caressed by clouds. Standing before the full-length mirror, my skin glowed from the bath, my eyes dark with anticipation. I reached for the black silk nighty I had bought on a reckless whim, its fabric cool and weightless in my hands. I let the robe fall, the air kissing my bare skin, raising goosebumps and tightening my nipples instantly.
As I slipped the nighty on, it poured over me like liquid midnight, clinging to every curve, the silk so light it felt like a whisper. The spaghetti straps rested delicately on my shoulders, the plunging neckline bared the swell of my breasts, where my pulse thrummed visibly. The hem skimmed around my knees, it fluttered with my every step, teasing my knees. I wore nothing beneath-no panties, no bra-just the silk’s sensual glide against my skin, the fabric catching on my hardened nipples, making them press boldly against the thin material. In the mirror, I saw a woman transformed: my warm, honeyed skin glowed against the black silk, my hips swaying as I turned, the nighty a second skin that both concealed and revealed, daring anyone to look closer.
I reached for my perfume, a French blend I had bought as a quiet act of defiance, its heavy glass bottle cool in my hands. I spritzed it, the dark tuberose, amber, and spice blooming on my skin like a secret unfolding. I applied it with care: a mist at the hollow of my throat, where my pulse hammered; a touch on my wrists, the skin soft and sensitive; and a bold spray along my inner thighs, where the warmth of my body turned the scent into something primal, intoxicating. The fragrance wove into the silk, mingling with my own heat, creating an aura that felt like a spell.
I paused for one final, practical act. From a hidden pocket in my handbag, I pulled a small box of lubricated extra thin condoms, their foil wrappers glinting in the soft light. I placed three on the bedside table, their presence grounding me, a reminder that I was in control, that this night was mine to shape. This wasn’t a fantasy-it was real, raw and deliberate.
In the mirror, I met the eyes of a stranger-confident, daring, her loose waves of hair framing a face alight with desire. My fingers were steady as I picked up my phone, the screen’s glow illuminating the certainty in my heart. I typed the message to Ranjeet, each word a spark igniting the night: The ******, Nariman Point. Suite 1402. Come now. Surprise. The two blue ticks flashed instantly, and my body hummed with the promise of what was to come, every nerve alive, ready.
A soft knock at the door snapped me out of my trance. My bare feet sank into the plush carpet as I glided across the room, the silk nighty whispering against my skin, my pulse points still warm with the perfume I applied.
I swung the door open, and there was him, my Ranjeet, with his dark eyes wide, practically sparkling with shock and mischief as they roamed over me. His usual cocky grin wobbled, replaced by a giddy, almost boyish smirk as he clocked the way the silk dipped low at my neckline, clinging to my hips and teasing my knees.
“Nabila,” he said, his voice a playful rumble, “You are a bad girl, aren’t you?”
He stepped inside, the door clicking shut, trapping us in this lush, private bubble. He was in dark jeans and a fitted black shirt that showed off his lean frame, but the way his shoulders bounced with barely-contained energy screamed he wasn’t ready for this. His eyes flicked to the suite-the plush bed, the condoms winking on the bedside table-then back to me, his grin widening as he noticed the silk betraying every curve, the faint outline of my nipples perked against the fabric.
“Surprise…” I purred.
“I liked it” he teased, his voice dripping with delight as he took a step closer, the air between us buzzing with playful heat.
I tilted my head, letting my hair spill over one shoulder, the jasmine of my perfume floating his way. His took a deep breathe, and then in a flickr of moment he was on me, pulling me into his arms with a laugh that echoed through the room.
His ragged breath, hot and tasting of the city and pure want, ghosted over my mouth for a fraction of a second before his lips crashed against mine. It wasn't a question, but an answer. The kiss was all heat and no hesitation, a raw, explosive release of the shock and awe that had been building in him. His lips were impossibly soft yet firm, demanding and worshipful all at once, molding to mine as if they were made to be there. For a second, I was just lost in the force of it, a sharp gasp of surrender my only response.
My body reacted before my mind did. My hands, which had been hanging uselessly at my sides, flew up to his chest, not to push him away, but to anchor myself to him, my fingers caught the collar of his shirt, feeling the frantic, hammering beat of his heart beneath my palm. I melted against him, my lips parting under his in a silent invitation he immediately accepted.
His tongue, hot and slick, traced the seam of my lips before sweeping inside, a bold, confident exploration that met my own in a tangled, desperate dance. It was velvet and fire, a claiming that sent a shiver straight down my spine. This was what I wanted. This was the prize.
![[+]](https://xossipy.com/themes/sharepoint/collapse_collapsed.png)