30-09-2025, 07:58 PM
The Monday morning office buzz hit me like a shock after the cozy Sunday with Adnan and Ammi. I sat at my desk, fingers tapping out reports, but my body was alive with the memory of Ranjeet’s message from yesterday: “Missed you today, firecracker. Hope you’re surviving the domestic life. Still thinking about you… all of you. ?” His deep, teasing voice echoed in my head, sending a warm, liquid rush through me. I squeezed my thighs together under the desk, trying to shake off the heat. My black salwar kameez, with its delicate gold trim, was my professional armor, but the purple lace lingerie underneath felt like a naughty secret, clinging to my skin like a lover’s whisper.
The morning meeting was a haze of charts and deadlines, made unbearable by Ranjeet sitting across from me. He looked sharp in his crisp white shirt and blue jeans. When his eyes locked on mine, they burned with something raw and hungry. That look claimed me, made my breath hitch and my heart pound. I scribbled notes, pretending to focus, but my mind was lost in memories of that hotel room-his rough stubble grazing my inner thighs, his low voice hissing my name over and over while he was buried deep in me.
When the meeting ended, I hurried back to my cubicle, my heels clicking fast against the tiles, matching my racing pulse. Then I felt him-Ranjeet’s presence, warm and electric, as he leaned against my cubicle wall. His sandalwood cologne wrapped around me, pulling me in. That slow, wicked grin of his made my knees weak.
“Babe,” he purred, his voice a soft growl that slid down my spine, just for me. “What color are you hiding under there today?” His eyebrow lifted, his words dripping with desire.
I glanced around to make sure we were alone, then leaned closer, breathing in his scent. “Purple,” I whispered, my voice low and teasing.
“ Ohhh my god….” He acted like fainting. I chuckled at his overacting.
His eyes darkened, like a storm ready to break. A rough, hungry sound rumbled in his throat, half-laugh, half-growl. “ Ohhhh damn…. when will I be able to see it…..it's been ages,” he muttered, he glanced towards my busts before he walked away, leaving me flushed and trembling with want.
At lunch, we found a noisy corner in the cafeteria, the chatter hiding us. I slid into the seat across from him, and his playful grin softened when he saw my face. He leaned in, his eyes only on me.
“Ranjeet,” I said, my voice tight. “I need to tell you something heavy.” I took a deep breath. “Ammi and I met a divorce lawyer. I’m leaving Asif. It’s happening. He was… cruel. Abusive. I won’t let Adnan grow up like that. We’re filing the case. It’s going to be a battle, but I’m done.”
Ranjeet froze, his playful vibe gone. His jaw tightened, and a fierce, protective anger flashed in his eyes, aimed at the man who’d hurt me. He reached across the table, his warm hand covering mine, his thumb stroking my knuckles, grounding me.
“Nabila, you’re doing the right thing,” he said, his voice steady and strong. “You deserve better than him. You and Adnan deserve peace.” He squeezed my hand. “I’m here for you-whatever you need. A shoulder, a distraction, or someone to fight for you. You’re my queen, and I’ve got you. Always.”
His words melted something inside me, easing the raw ache I hadn’t realized was there. “Thank you, Ranjeet,” I whispered, my throat tight. “It means everything. Even if you’re a shameless flirt.”
His eyes sparked with mischief again, the anger fading. He leaned closer, his voice dropping to that low, husky tone that set my skin on fire.
“Shameless? No, just obsessed with my spark.” His gaze slid over me, heavy and hot. “Purple, huh? I’m dying to see it against your skin. I want to peel off that black kameez and find the fire underneath.”
I laughed, a shaky sound, and swatted his hand under the table. “Behave, we’re at work,” I teased, but my burning cheeks gave me away.
“Challenge accepted,” he said with a wink. “But seriously, keep me posted, okay?”
I nodded, my heart swelling. As we headed back, my phone buzzed. His text: “Purple’s my new favourite. Can’t wait to unwrap it.”
I bit my lip, a thrill of hot anticipation racing through me. I felt bold, not just as a mom fighting for freedom, but as a woman desired, with his strength behind me and our secret, fiery connection lighting my path.
The next week hit like a storm. A huge project from an international client dropped with a crazy deadline, turning the office into a whirlwind. I used to leave the office as per my convenience but Ranjeet worked really hard ,being responsible for timely completion of the project. But he worked hard, not looking day or night, powered by coffee and pizzas of course. The air hummed with computers and stressed-out voices.
But even in the chaos, the pull between Ranjeet and me burned hotter than ever. It was a secret game we played in stolen moments. A glance over our monitors that held more heat than the sun. A sneaky message on whatsapp:
Ranjeet: This report’s driving me nuts. I need a real distraction.
Me: Oh? What’s that?
Ranjeet: You. In that purple lace. Nothing else.
My breath caught, my cheeks flushing as I hid the chat, my fingers clumsy on the keys. He was relentless, a sweet torture in the middle of the grind.
One afternoon, we ended up alone in the pantry, the office still buzzing outside. I was stirring sugar into my fourth coffee when I felt him behind me, his warmth wrapping around me like a touch.
“Too much coffee,ehhh,” he murmured, his voice a low hum against my ear, sending shivers down my spine.
“Work pressure…” I replied.
“Too much caffeine is not good for your health, Darlu… ”
“Owwww….so sweet of you…..” I replied sarcastically.
“ Not more than you…But seriously too much caffeine is not good” He replied instantly.
“I know…. But it helps in ….relaxing…” I said.
“I’ve got a better idea,” he said, his eyes tracing my jaw, dark with want. “Why don't we relax at my home. You. Me. No interruptions.”
My heart pounded. “Careful, Ranjeet. I might say yes, and then you’d have to explain why you fucked up the project.”
He laughed, a low, hungry sound. “Worth it.” His gaze turned serious. “How’s it going… with everything?”
I sipped my coffee, the heat steadying me. “The lawyer sent Asif the notice yesterday,” I said softly. “It’s real now. The fight’s started.”
His eyes hardened, that protective fire back. “Good. You okay?”
“Numb. Scared. Relieved,” I admitted. “All at once.”
“You’re a warrior, Nabila,” he said, his voice firm. His fingers brushed a strand of hair from my cheek, the light touch sparking heat through me. “Let’s Get through this project. Then we’ll celebrate you breaking free.”
His thumb grazed my cheek, his eyes dropping to my lips. “God, I want you,” he rasped, his voice raw with need. “It’s torture seeing you every day, catching your scent, and not being able to touch you. To hold you. To drown in you until we forget the world.”
His words mirrored the ache inside me, the divorce fears and project pressure twisting into a desperate need for him. “I know,” I whispered, my voice thick. “You have to be patient”.
“I want to steal you away,” he said, his gaze burning. “I want to finish what we started. I want to hear you moan my name again, babe..for real, not just in my head.”
The pantry door swung open, a colleague walking in, shattering the moment. Ranjeet stepped back, the space between us cold and sharp. He ran a hand through his hair, his jaw tight, the professional mask slipping back on. But I saw the raw need in his eyes before he gave me a quick nod and left. I stood there, trembling, my coffee forgotten, the brief moment leaving me aching for him, a reminder of the fire we both craved but couldn’t yet touch.
The morning meeting was a haze of charts and deadlines, made unbearable by Ranjeet sitting across from me. He looked sharp in his crisp white shirt and blue jeans. When his eyes locked on mine, they burned with something raw and hungry. That look claimed me, made my breath hitch and my heart pound. I scribbled notes, pretending to focus, but my mind was lost in memories of that hotel room-his rough stubble grazing my inner thighs, his low voice hissing my name over and over while he was buried deep in me.
When the meeting ended, I hurried back to my cubicle, my heels clicking fast against the tiles, matching my racing pulse. Then I felt him-Ranjeet’s presence, warm and electric, as he leaned against my cubicle wall. His sandalwood cologne wrapped around me, pulling me in. That slow, wicked grin of his made my knees weak.
“Babe,” he purred, his voice a soft growl that slid down my spine, just for me. “What color are you hiding under there today?” His eyebrow lifted, his words dripping with desire.
I glanced around to make sure we were alone, then leaned closer, breathing in his scent. “Purple,” I whispered, my voice low and teasing.
“ Ohhh my god….” He acted like fainting. I chuckled at his overacting.
His eyes darkened, like a storm ready to break. A rough, hungry sound rumbled in his throat, half-laugh, half-growl. “ Ohhhh damn…. when will I be able to see it…..it's been ages,” he muttered, he glanced towards my busts before he walked away, leaving me flushed and trembling with want.
At lunch, we found a noisy corner in the cafeteria, the chatter hiding us. I slid into the seat across from him, and his playful grin softened when he saw my face. He leaned in, his eyes only on me.
“Ranjeet,” I said, my voice tight. “I need to tell you something heavy.” I took a deep breath. “Ammi and I met a divorce lawyer. I’m leaving Asif. It’s happening. He was… cruel. Abusive. I won’t let Adnan grow up like that. We’re filing the case. It’s going to be a battle, but I’m done.”
Ranjeet froze, his playful vibe gone. His jaw tightened, and a fierce, protective anger flashed in his eyes, aimed at the man who’d hurt me. He reached across the table, his warm hand covering mine, his thumb stroking my knuckles, grounding me.
“Nabila, you’re doing the right thing,” he said, his voice steady and strong. “You deserve better than him. You and Adnan deserve peace.” He squeezed my hand. “I’m here for you-whatever you need. A shoulder, a distraction, or someone to fight for you. You’re my queen, and I’ve got you. Always.”
His words melted something inside me, easing the raw ache I hadn’t realized was there. “Thank you, Ranjeet,” I whispered, my throat tight. “It means everything. Even if you’re a shameless flirt.”
His eyes sparked with mischief again, the anger fading. He leaned closer, his voice dropping to that low, husky tone that set my skin on fire.
“Shameless? No, just obsessed with my spark.” His gaze slid over me, heavy and hot. “Purple, huh? I’m dying to see it against your skin. I want to peel off that black kameez and find the fire underneath.”
I laughed, a shaky sound, and swatted his hand under the table. “Behave, we’re at work,” I teased, but my burning cheeks gave me away.
“Challenge accepted,” he said with a wink. “But seriously, keep me posted, okay?”
I nodded, my heart swelling. As we headed back, my phone buzzed. His text: “Purple’s my new favourite. Can’t wait to unwrap it.”
I bit my lip, a thrill of hot anticipation racing through me. I felt bold, not just as a mom fighting for freedom, but as a woman desired, with his strength behind me and our secret, fiery connection lighting my path.
The next week hit like a storm. A huge project from an international client dropped with a crazy deadline, turning the office into a whirlwind. I used to leave the office as per my convenience but Ranjeet worked really hard ,being responsible for timely completion of the project. But he worked hard, not looking day or night, powered by coffee and pizzas of course. The air hummed with computers and stressed-out voices.
But even in the chaos, the pull between Ranjeet and me burned hotter than ever. It was a secret game we played in stolen moments. A glance over our monitors that held more heat than the sun. A sneaky message on whatsapp:
Ranjeet: This report’s driving me nuts. I need a real distraction.
Me: Oh? What’s that?
Ranjeet: You. In that purple lace. Nothing else.
My breath caught, my cheeks flushing as I hid the chat, my fingers clumsy on the keys. He was relentless, a sweet torture in the middle of the grind.
One afternoon, we ended up alone in the pantry, the office still buzzing outside. I was stirring sugar into my fourth coffee when I felt him behind me, his warmth wrapping around me like a touch.
“Too much coffee,ehhh,” he murmured, his voice a low hum against my ear, sending shivers down my spine.
“Work pressure…” I replied.
“Too much caffeine is not good for your health, Darlu… ”
“Owwww….so sweet of you…..” I replied sarcastically.
“ Not more than you…But seriously too much caffeine is not good” He replied instantly.
“I know…. But it helps in ….relaxing…” I said.
“I’ve got a better idea,” he said, his eyes tracing my jaw, dark with want. “Why don't we relax at my home. You. Me. No interruptions.”
My heart pounded. “Careful, Ranjeet. I might say yes, and then you’d have to explain why you fucked up the project.”
He laughed, a low, hungry sound. “Worth it.” His gaze turned serious. “How’s it going… with everything?”
I sipped my coffee, the heat steadying me. “The lawyer sent Asif the notice yesterday,” I said softly. “It’s real now. The fight’s started.”
His eyes hardened, that protective fire back. “Good. You okay?”
“Numb. Scared. Relieved,” I admitted. “All at once.”
“You’re a warrior, Nabila,” he said, his voice firm. His fingers brushed a strand of hair from my cheek, the light touch sparking heat through me. “Let’s Get through this project. Then we’ll celebrate you breaking free.”
His thumb grazed my cheek, his eyes dropping to my lips. “God, I want you,” he rasped, his voice raw with need. “It’s torture seeing you every day, catching your scent, and not being able to touch you. To hold you. To drown in you until we forget the world.”
His words mirrored the ache inside me, the divorce fears and project pressure twisting into a desperate need for him. “I know,” I whispered, my voice thick. “You have to be patient”.
“I want to steal you away,” he said, his gaze burning. “I want to finish what we started. I want to hear you moan my name again, babe..for real, not just in my head.”
The pantry door swung open, a colleague walking in, shattering the moment. Ranjeet stepped back, the space between us cold and sharp. He ran a hand through his hair, his jaw tight, the professional mask slipping back on. But I saw the raw need in his eyes before he gave me a quick nod and left. I stood there, trembling, my coffee forgotten, the brief moment leaving me aching for him, a reminder of the fire we both craved but couldn’t yet touch.
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