12-10-2025, 01:00 AM
He carried me easily towards the bedroom, his steps quiet so not to wake Adnan. The door was open.He kicked the door shut gently behind us and set me down on my feet, right there on the floor. His hands stayed on my waist, holding me close. His eyes never left mine, full of promise. "Now, we have some time just for us," he said, leaning in closer. My body tingled again, ready for whatever came next.
His hands began a slow, deliberate journey from my waist, up my sides, his thumbs drawing circles that made my skin tingle even through the fabric. They settled on my shoulders, the warmth of his palms sinking deep. He turned me gently, a silent command, until my back was pressed flush against the hard, muscular wall of his chest.
I felt every inch of him. I felt the undeniable, hard ridge of his cock pressing insistently against the curve of my bum through my jeans. It was a silent, potent declaration of his need.
A low, guttural hiss escaped his lips
“Finally… I’m feeling my sexy queen.”
The raw, possessive words shattered my composure. A breathless, helpless moan escaped me.
“Ohhhh… Ranjeeet…” My own hands came up to find the back of his head, my fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him instinctively and desperately closer to my neck.
His arms wrapped around me, his hands locking over my belly, caging me against him in a possessive embrace. His lips found the cold metal of my gold hoop, his tongue tracing its curve before his teeth gently tugged on my earlobe.
As his mouth blazed a trail of open-mouthed, wet kisses down my neck, his right hand began its own slow, torturous journey upward. It slid over my ribs, each finger a brand of fire until his palm finally settled, possessively, over the full swell of my left breast.
The heat of his hand through the thin crepe of my blouse and the lace of my bra made me gasp, my body arching back into his as if seeking more of the contact. My own moan surprised me, a raw, unfamiliar sound of pure, unadulterated pleasure.
He answered with a slow, deliberate squeeze, his thumb finding the nipple through the fabric and circling it, coaxing it into a tight, hard point. At the very same moment, his left hand gathered my hair, lifting all of it and dbanging it over my right shoulder.
He now had a clear view of my neck. I felt his fingers searching at the top of my spine. They found the single, tiny pearl button there. A soft click echoed in the quiet room. The neck of my top loosened, exposing my skin. Before I could even take a breath, his mouth was there. He pressed a hot, wet, open-mouthed kiss onto that newly bare spot. A shiver went through my entire body.
His arms slid around me from behind. He pulled me back against his chest. His hands came up and covered my breasts completely. His grip was firm. It was possessive.
"So full," he growled. His voice was a low hiss against my ear. "So perfect."
He pressed his palms against my breasts. He was feeling my fullness. He weighed my breasts in his hands.
"It feels so fucking good in my hands, Nabu," he murmured and leaned in. His lips brushed my earlobe.
He cupped my breasts from below. He did not just hold them. He began a slow, kneading rhythm with his palms. With each press, he pushed them up gently. The fabric of my blouse created a delicious friction. My head fell back against his shoulder.He was feeling my fullness. He was feeling the frantic beat of my heart beneath his hands. Then his thumbs moved. They swept upward over the fabric. They teased the hardened nipples with an agonizing slowness. A helpless, breathy sound escaped my lips. I was completely undone by his touch.
"Do you have any idea how many times I've sat across from you, talking about work, about anything... while all I could think about was your round and soft boobs? How would my hands feel them?"
The question hung in the air. I remembered all those times. I had felt his gaze like a physical touch. My cheeks would flush. My heart would race. I could not lie this time. My voice was gone. I just gave a small, jerky nod.
He chuckled softly against my back. It was a warm, satisfying sound.
His hands moved from my waist. They found the hem of my top. He began to lift it slowly.
My body knew what to do before my mind did. My arms lifted instinctively over my head. It was a gesture of pure surrender.
He drew the blouse up and over me. For a brief moment, the world was dark crepe fabric. Then it was gone. He let it fall. It landed on the floor with a soft, final sound.
I stood there. My back was still to him. I was wearing only my coffee-colored bra and my jeans. The cool air of the room raised goosebumps on my bare skin.
I could feel his heat just behind me. He hadn't moved. He was just looking.
His right hand came to rest on my bare stomach. The rough skin of his palm was a delicious shock against my smooth skin.
His left hand caught my chin. He turned my head to the side. I could feel the heat of his body against my back. I felt the undeniable hardness of his cock pressing against me.
He put his lips on mine. He began to kiss me. It was a deep, possessive kiss that claimed me completely.
As our kiss deepened, his right hand began to move. It slid slowly, deliberately across my belly. The touch was sudden. It was completely unexpected. His index finger dipped directly into my navel.
A jolt of pure pleasure shot through me. It was a wave that traveled from my head all the way to my toes. I moaned into his mouth. It was a muffled, helpless sound. "Ummmmmppphhh."
His left hand moved up. It wrapped around my breasts. They were still covered by the coffee-colored bra. His grip was not gentle. He began to squeeze and knead them firmly. It was a rough, possessive touch. It was a claiming.
At the same time, his right index finger began a relentless rhythm. It pushed into my navel. Then it pulled out. The motion was hypnotic. It was torturous.
The two sensations were too much. My body squirmed in his arms. It was an involuntary response to the overwhelming pleasure. My hand found his wrist. I gripped it weakly.
"Ranjeet… please… stop…" I pleaded.
My voice was a breathless, broken sound. It was not a real command. It was a surrender.
He chuckled against my ear. It was a low, dark sound. "Today... no stopping, jaanu," he replied.
He knew what I really wanted. With his left hand, he hooked his thumb under the lace cup of my bra. He pulled it down forcefully. My right breast was suddenly free. It was bare in the cool air of the room.
His hand immediately covered my bare skin. The heat of his palm was a shock. His thumb and fingers found my nipple. It was already a hard, aching peak. He began to roll it. He pinched it gently.
A sharp, helpless moan tore from my throat. "Aaahhhhh..."
Before the sound could fully escape, his mouth crashed down on mine. He sealed the sound inside. He swallowed my cry with a deep, punishing kiss.
A soft gasp tore from my lips as he molded me to him, my hips slotting perfectly into the cradle of his pelvis. The thick, rigid length of his cock pressed insistently against the curve of my ass, straining through his trousers, a raw declaration of his want that sent a surge of molten heat to my core. My legs trembled, my clit throbbing as slick warmth soaked my panties, my body already begging for more.
“Feel that, Nabila?” he murmured, his voice a low, husky growl against my ear, sending shivers down my spine. “That’s what you do to me. Every damn time.”
“Ranjeet,” I moaned, my voice raw and needy as I threw my head back against his shoulder, overwhelmed by the dual assault-his left hand teasing my navel, stoking a slow burn, and his right hand gripping my breast so firmly it felt like a claim etched into my skin. My ass pressed harder against his erection, the friction drawing a low, guttural groan from him.
“Fuck, you’re perfect,” he growled.
I whimpered, my hands clutching his arms tighter, my body trembling as slick heat pooled between my thighs.
“Love you Ranjeet,” I whispered, my voice barely audible, laced with desperation.
“Love you too Jaan” he replied, his voice thick with want as his lips grazed my neck, teeth nipping lightly at the sensitive skin.
His left hand slid down my body. It moved past my navel. His fingers traced the top seam of my high-waisted jeans. They settled just above my center. The touch was a light, agonizing tease. My hips instinctively pushed forward into his hand.
He leaned in. His voice was a raw whisper against my ear. "I want to feel all of you, Nabila." He pressed his palm firmly against me. "I want to feel you tremble. I want to hear you cry out my name."
I turned in his arms. I faced him completely. My hands came up. I held his neck. I pulled him down to me.
My lips crashed against his. It was a fierce kiss. It was wild. Our tongues met in a desperate tangle. They twisted together.
He pushed his tongue into my mouth. I could taste him. It was a taste of smoke, lemon soda, and pure Ranjeet. He tried to go deeper. His tongue explored the inside of my cheeks. It was a slow, claiming exploration. His saliva mixed with mine. Our lips were sealed tight. The saliva gathered in my mouth. I swallowed it down.
While we kissed, his hands began to move. They slid down my back. They settled on my ass. The denim of my jeans was a thin barrier. He started to feel me. His palms were soft against the fabric. He moved his hands in slow, circular motions. He was learning my shape. He was claiming every curve.
I was lost in the delicious violence of our kiss. I felt his hands move from my hips. They slid up to my bare back. His fingers traced the delicate line of my spine. Then they began to search. He was looking for the clasp of my bra.
I expected him to unhook it easily. I imagined a swift, practiced move. But his fingers were clumsy. I felt a frustrated fumbling against my skin. He tried once. He failed. He tried again. The tiny hooks refused to release.
A low, frustrated growl rumbled in his chest. It vibrated against my lips. This was the man who had planned this perfect day. This was the man who moved with such unshakable confidence. But right now, he was being completely defeated by a tiny hook of my bra.
A small smile touched my mouth. It was a secret, silent laugh against his lips. I pulled back from the kiss. It was just enough to breathe. A teasing glint was in my eyes. I met his dark, passion-filled gaze.
"Trouble?" I whispered.
A low, frustrated growl was his only answer.
My smile widened. My hand left his forearm. I reached behind my own back. My fingers found his. They were still fumbling. I brushed against them for a moment. Then my own fingers found the stubborn hook. With a single, practiced flick, it was undone.
The moment the clasp was undone, I felt a release. The thin straps went slack on my shoulders. The molded cups fell away from my body. My breasts were suddenly free. His hands were warm on my shoulders. He slid the straps down my arms. His touch was slow and deliberate. The bra dropped to the floor. It landed in a soft, lacy pile by my feet.
My breasts were bare in the cool air of the room. I stood perfectly still. I did not try to cover myself. I was vulnerable. I was also completely, utterly his.
He didn't move for a long moment. He just looked.His eyes dropped from my face. His gaze was hungry and possessive. It was full of a deep, reverent awe.Then he moved. He grabbed my right breast with his hand.His palm settled on the soft, full underside. His fingers pointed upward toward my shoulder. My brown nipple was smashed flat against his warm palm. He then pressed it gently.
“Ummmmmmm……” My breath hitched. My hands caressed his biceps over his shirt.I leaned forward into his touch. It was a silent invitation. It was a complete surrender.
He took that as his answer. His other hand came up. He cupped both of my breasts. He held their full, heavy weight in his palms. A low groan rumbled in his chest. It was a sound of pure, masculine satisfaction.
"Even more beautiful," he breathed. His voice was a raw, husky sound. "Than anything I could have imagined."
His thumbs found my rubbery nipples. They were already hard, aching peaks. He began to circle them slowly. The agonizingly gentle friction sent a new wave of fire through me. My head fell back. A soft, helpless moan escaped my lips.
That sound was his undoing.A low growl escaped his throat. It was a primal, possessive sound. He bent his head. His mouth found the hard peak of my right nipple. He took it into his mouth.
The sensation was a lightning strike. A sharp cry escaped my lips. My back arched.
His other hand was not idle. It found my other breast. His thumb and forefinger began to pinch and roll the nipple gently. He was pleasuring both of them at once.
My hands left his biceps. They moved to his head. My fingers tangled in his thick, dark hair. I held him there. I pressed him closer.
He lifted his head for a moment. His gaze met mine. His eyes were dark with a promise. Then he moved to my other breast. His mouth claimed it with the same hungry intensity.
He finally pulled back. We were both breathing heavily. He looked from my face to the magnificent king-sized bed. A silent, possessive look was in his eyes.
"Turn around," he whispered. His voice was a raw, husky sound.
I did not hesitate. My body was a pliant instrument for his pleasure. I turned my back to him.
He placed his hands on my waist. He guided me forward. We walked the few steps to the bed. He stopped me at the edge of the mattress.
"Put your hands on the bed," he commanded softly.
I obeyed. I leaned forward. I placed my palms flat on the crisp, white sheets. My body was bent over the bed. My ass was pushed out towards him. I was completely vulnerable before him. I was waiting.
His hands began a slow, deliberate journey from my waist, up my sides, his thumbs drawing circles that made my skin tingle even through the fabric. They settled on my shoulders, the warmth of his palms sinking deep. He turned me gently, a silent command, until my back was pressed flush against the hard, muscular wall of his chest.
I felt every inch of him. I felt the undeniable, hard ridge of his cock pressing insistently against the curve of my bum through my jeans. It was a silent, potent declaration of his need.
A low, guttural hiss escaped his lips
“Finally… I’m feeling my sexy queen.”
The raw, possessive words shattered my composure. A breathless, helpless moan escaped me.
“Ohhhh… Ranjeeet…” My own hands came up to find the back of his head, my fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him instinctively and desperately closer to my neck.
His arms wrapped around me, his hands locking over my belly, caging me against him in a possessive embrace. His lips found the cold metal of my gold hoop, his tongue tracing its curve before his teeth gently tugged on my earlobe.
As his mouth blazed a trail of open-mouthed, wet kisses down my neck, his right hand began its own slow, torturous journey upward. It slid over my ribs, each finger a brand of fire until his palm finally settled, possessively, over the full swell of my left breast.
The heat of his hand through the thin crepe of my blouse and the lace of my bra made me gasp, my body arching back into his as if seeking more of the contact. My own moan surprised me, a raw, unfamiliar sound of pure, unadulterated pleasure.
He answered with a slow, deliberate squeeze, his thumb finding the nipple through the fabric and circling it, coaxing it into a tight, hard point. At the very same moment, his left hand gathered my hair, lifting all of it and dbanging it over my right shoulder.
He now had a clear view of my neck. I felt his fingers searching at the top of my spine. They found the single, tiny pearl button there. A soft click echoed in the quiet room. The neck of my top loosened, exposing my skin. Before I could even take a breath, his mouth was there. He pressed a hot, wet, open-mouthed kiss onto that newly bare spot. A shiver went through my entire body.
His arms slid around me from behind. He pulled me back against his chest. His hands came up and covered my breasts completely. His grip was firm. It was possessive.
"So full," he growled. His voice was a low hiss against my ear. "So perfect."
He pressed his palms against my breasts. He was feeling my fullness. He weighed my breasts in his hands.
"It feels so fucking good in my hands, Nabu," he murmured and leaned in. His lips brushed my earlobe.
He cupped my breasts from below. He did not just hold them. He began a slow, kneading rhythm with his palms. With each press, he pushed them up gently. The fabric of my blouse created a delicious friction. My head fell back against his shoulder.He was feeling my fullness. He was feeling the frantic beat of my heart beneath his hands. Then his thumbs moved. They swept upward over the fabric. They teased the hardened nipples with an agonizing slowness. A helpless, breathy sound escaped my lips. I was completely undone by his touch.
"Do you have any idea how many times I've sat across from you, talking about work, about anything... while all I could think about was your round and soft boobs? How would my hands feel them?"
The question hung in the air. I remembered all those times. I had felt his gaze like a physical touch. My cheeks would flush. My heart would race. I could not lie this time. My voice was gone. I just gave a small, jerky nod.
He chuckled softly against my back. It was a warm, satisfying sound.
His hands moved from my waist. They found the hem of my top. He began to lift it slowly.
My body knew what to do before my mind did. My arms lifted instinctively over my head. It was a gesture of pure surrender.
He drew the blouse up and over me. For a brief moment, the world was dark crepe fabric. Then it was gone. He let it fall. It landed on the floor with a soft, final sound.
I stood there. My back was still to him. I was wearing only my coffee-colored bra and my jeans. The cool air of the room raised goosebumps on my bare skin.
I could feel his heat just behind me. He hadn't moved. He was just looking.
His right hand came to rest on my bare stomach. The rough skin of his palm was a delicious shock against my smooth skin.
His left hand caught my chin. He turned my head to the side. I could feel the heat of his body against my back. I felt the undeniable hardness of his cock pressing against me.
He put his lips on mine. He began to kiss me. It was a deep, possessive kiss that claimed me completely.
As our kiss deepened, his right hand began to move. It slid slowly, deliberately across my belly. The touch was sudden. It was completely unexpected. His index finger dipped directly into my navel.
A jolt of pure pleasure shot through me. It was a wave that traveled from my head all the way to my toes. I moaned into his mouth. It was a muffled, helpless sound. "Ummmmmppphhh."
His left hand moved up. It wrapped around my breasts. They were still covered by the coffee-colored bra. His grip was not gentle. He began to squeeze and knead them firmly. It was a rough, possessive touch. It was a claiming.
At the same time, his right index finger began a relentless rhythm. It pushed into my navel. Then it pulled out. The motion was hypnotic. It was torturous.
The two sensations were too much. My body squirmed in his arms. It was an involuntary response to the overwhelming pleasure. My hand found his wrist. I gripped it weakly.
"Ranjeet… please… stop…" I pleaded.
My voice was a breathless, broken sound. It was not a real command. It was a surrender.
He chuckled against my ear. It was a low, dark sound. "Today... no stopping, jaanu," he replied.
He knew what I really wanted. With his left hand, he hooked his thumb under the lace cup of my bra. He pulled it down forcefully. My right breast was suddenly free. It was bare in the cool air of the room.
His hand immediately covered my bare skin. The heat of his palm was a shock. His thumb and fingers found my nipple. It was already a hard, aching peak. He began to roll it. He pinched it gently.
A sharp, helpless moan tore from my throat. "Aaahhhhh..."
Before the sound could fully escape, his mouth crashed down on mine. He sealed the sound inside. He swallowed my cry with a deep, punishing kiss.
A soft gasp tore from my lips as he molded me to him, my hips slotting perfectly into the cradle of his pelvis. The thick, rigid length of his cock pressed insistently against the curve of my ass, straining through his trousers, a raw declaration of his want that sent a surge of molten heat to my core. My legs trembled, my clit throbbing as slick warmth soaked my panties, my body already begging for more.
“Feel that, Nabila?” he murmured, his voice a low, husky growl against my ear, sending shivers down my spine. “That’s what you do to me. Every damn time.”
“Ranjeet,” I moaned, my voice raw and needy as I threw my head back against his shoulder, overwhelmed by the dual assault-his left hand teasing my navel, stoking a slow burn, and his right hand gripping my breast so firmly it felt like a claim etched into my skin. My ass pressed harder against his erection, the friction drawing a low, guttural groan from him.
“Fuck, you’re perfect,” he growled.
I whimpered, my hands clutching his arms tighter, my body trembling as slick heat pooled between my thighs.
“Love you Ranjeet,” I whispered, my voice barely audible, laced with desperation.
“Love you too Jaan” he replied, his voice thick with want as his lips grazed my neck, teeth nipping lightly at the sensitive skin.
His left hand slid down my body. It moved past my navel. His fingers traced the top seam of my high-waisted jeans. They settled just above my center. The touch was a light, agonizing tease. My hips instinctively pushed forward into his hand.
He leaned in. His voice was a raw whisper against my ear. "I want to feel all of you, Nabila." He pressed his palm firmly against me. "I want to feel you tremble. I want to hear you cry out my name."
I turned in his arms. I faced him completely. My hands came up. I held his neck. I pulled him down to me.
My lips crashed against his. It was a fierce kiss. It was wild. Our tongues met in a desperate tangle. They twisted together.
He pushed his tongue into my mouth. I could taste him. It was a taste of smoke, lemon soda, and pure Ranjeet. He tried to go deeper. His tongue explored the inside of my cheeks. It was a slow, claiming exploration. His saliva mixed with mine. Our lips were sealed tight. The saliva gathered in my mouth. I swallowed it down.
While we kissed, his hands began to move. They slid down my back. They settled on my ass. The denim of my jeans was a thin barrier. He started to feel me. His palms were soft against the fabric. He moved his hands in slow, circular motions. He was learning my shape. He was claiming every curve.
I was lost in the delicious violence of our kiss. I felt his hands move from my hips. They slid up to my bare back. His fingers traced the delicate line of my spine. Then they began to search. He was looking for the clasp of my bra.
I expected him to unhook it easily. I imagined a swift, practiced move. But his fingers were clumsy. I felt a frustrated fumbling against my skin. He tried once. He failed. He tried again. The tiny hooks refused to release.
A low, frustrated growl rumbled in his chest. It vibrated against my lips. This was the man who had planned this perfect day. This was the man who moved with such unshakable confidence. But right now, he was being completely defeated by a tiny hook of my bra.
A small smile touched my mouth. It was a secret, silent laugh against his lips. I pulled back from the kiss. It was just enough to breathe. A teasing glint was in my eyes. I met his dark, passion-filled gaze.
"Trouble?" I whispered.
A low, frustrated growl was his only answer.
My smile widened. My hand left his forearm. I reached behind my own back. My fingers found his. They were still fumbling. I brushed against them for a moment. Then my own fingers found the stubborn hook. With a single, practiced flick, it was undone.
The moment the clasp was undone, I felt a release. The thin straps went slack on my shoulders. The molded cups fell away from my body. My breasts were suddenly free. His hands were warm on my shoulders. He slid the straps down my arms. His touch was slow and deliberate. The bra dropped to the floor. It landed in a soft, lacy pile by my feet.
My breasts were bare in the cool air of the room. I stood perfectly still. I did not try to cover myself. I was vulnerable. I was also completely, utterly his.
He didn't move for a long moment. He just looked.His eyes dropped from my face. His gaze was hungry and possessive. It was full of a deep, reverent awe.Then he moved. He grabbed my right breast with his hand.His palm settled on the soft, full underside. His fingers pointed upward toward my shoulder. My brown nipple was smashed flat against his warm palm. He then pressed it gently.
“Ummmmmmm……” My breath hitched. My hands caressed his biceps over his shirt.I leaned forward into his touch. It was a silent invitation. It was a complete surrender.
He took that as his answer. His other hand came up. He cupped both of my breasts. He held their full, heavy weight in his palms. A low groan rumbled in his chest. It was a sound of pure, masculine satisfaction.
"Even more beautiful," he breathed. His voice was a raw, husky sound. "Than anything I could have imagined."
His thumbs found my rubbery nipples. They were already hard, aching peaks. He began to circle them slowly. The agonizingly gentle friction sent a new wave of fire through me. My head fell back. A soft, helpless moan escaped my lips.
That sound was his undoing.A low growl escaped his throat. It was a primal, possessive sound. He bent his head. His mouth found the hard peak of my right nipple. He took it into his mouth.
The sensation was a lightning strike. A sharp cry escaped my lips. My back arched.
His other hand was not idle. It found my other breast. His thumb and forefinger began to pinch and roll the nipple gently. He was pleasuring both of them at once.
My hands left his biceps. They moved to his head. My fingers tangled in his thick, dark hair. I held him there. I pressed him closer.
He lifted his head for a moment. His gaze met mine. His eyes were dark with a promise. Then he moved to my other breast. His mouth claimed it with the same hungry intensity.
He finally pulled back. We were both breathing heavily. He looked from my face to the magnificent king-sized bed. A silent, possessive look was in his eyes.
"Turn around," he whispered. His voice was a raw, husky sound.
I did not hesitate. My body was a pliant instrument for his pleasure. I turned my back to him.
He placed his hands on my waist. He guided me forward. We walked the few steps to the bed. He stopped me at the edge of the mattress.
"Put your hands on the bed," he commanded softly.
I obeyed. I leaned forward. I placed my palms flat on the crisp, white sheets. My body was bent over the bed. My ass was pushed out towards him. I was completely vulnerable before him. I was waiting.
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