An Innocent Beauty Continues Part2

[Deepak.kapoor]

Vikram's Desperate Move

Vikram paced like a caged animal, every step echoing his restless mind. Meera… The name itself was enough to make his pulse spike. Their last meeting had sunk hooks deep into him, carving out a space where nothing but her existed. This wasn’t just lust anymore—it was an ache, a gnawing obsession that chewed at him day and night.


He had been patient, waiting for the right moment, but patience had limits. And today, it snapped.


The house would still be this afternoon—he knew the routine by heart. Napping servants. A husband away. And Meera, likely curled up in that soft bed, blissfully unaware.


No more waiting.


He moved like a shadow through the hall, every step controlled, silent. His hand rested on Meera’s bedroom door handle for a fraction of a second longer than it should have. One deep breath, and he turned it.


The door swung open.


Inside, soft afternoon light filtered through heavy curtains, painting the room in muted gold. There she was—Meera.


She lay sprawled diagonally across the bed, the thin cotton sari loosened in sleep. One leg bent slightly, the other stretched out, revealing the smooth curve of her thigh, bare and glowing under the faint light. The sari’s edge had slipped higher than modesty would allow, showing enough to make Vikram’s throat go dry.


Her blouse, soft and slightly loose, had shifted with her movements. One strap had slipped down her shoulder, and her breasts, full and heavy, were barely held inside the thin fabric—one nearly spilling free, the deep valley of her cleavage exposed, rising and falling with each calm breath. A few strands of her hair clung to her cheek, lips parted ever so slightly in the innocence of sleep, even as her body radiated pure sensuality without intention.


Vikram froze, drinking in the sight. His heartbeat thundered in his ears, his breath hitching at the sheer vulnerability of her position.


Meera stirred faintly, sensing something off. Her eyes fluttered open, lashes blinking away sleep, confusion morphing into shock.


“Vikram?” Her voice cracked slightly, alarm flashing across her face as she pushed herself upright, instinctively pulling the slipping sari over her exposed thigh and adjusting her blouse.


“Tum yahan kya kar rahe ho?” (What are you doing here?)


Vikram’s gaze locked onto hers—intense, almost feverish, still caught in the image of how she’d looked seconds ago. 


“Rok nahi paya khud ko,” (I couldn’t stop myself,) he muttered, voice rough, thick with longing. “Mujhe tum chahiye… abhi.” (I need you… right now.)


Meera’s mind kicked into overdrive. Her eyes darted to the door—closed, silent. The weight of the situation slammed into her. Alone. Trapped.


“Vikram…” She kept her voice even, careful. “Yeh waqt… yeh jagah… sahi nahi hai.” (This isn’t the right time… or place.)


But Vikram shook his head, taking a step closer, eyes blazing with desperate hunger. 


“Kabhi sahi waqt hota hai kya? Hamesha reason milta hai door bhaagne ka…” (Is there ever a right time? There’s always a reason to run away…) His hand came up, fingers brushing her cheek.


The touch jolted her, tension rippling through her body.


“Tumhe jaana hoga,” she said, firmer now. “Koi dekh lega toh—” (You need to leave. If someone sees you—)


“Dekhne do.” His voice dropped lower, rougher. His face was inches from hers now, breath warm against her skin.


“Mujhe fark nahi padta. Mujhe tum chahiye, Meera.” (Let them see. I don’t care. I want you, Meera.)


Her heart thudded in her chest, but she forced calm into her expression. She gently pushed his hand away, locking eyes with him.


“Sunno, Vikram…” she said softly, almost soothing. 


“Agar tum mujhe chahte ho, toh samajhna hoga. Aise ghus kar sab kharab ho sakta hai. Agar tum mujhe chaahte ho… toh sabr karo.”
(If you want me, you need to understand. Barging in like this could ruin everything. If you wish to me… then wait.)


For a second, something flickered in his eyes—confusion, hesitation, a crack in that hard wall of urgency.


Her voice dropped to a whisper, soft and deliberate. “Mujh par bharosa karo.” (Trust me.)


His jaw clenched. The desire still burned in his eyes, but his body stilled. His breathing slowed slightly as the words sank in. Finally, he stepped back, reluctant, like an animal pulled from its prey.


“Thik hai,” he muttered, voice tight. “Par mujhe intezaar mat karwana… zyada.”
(Fine. But don’t keep me waiting… too long.)


He turned sharply, hand on the door, pausing just once to glance back. That hunger still flared in his eyes, but now it carried something else—hope mixed with warning.


And then he was gone.


Meera sat frozen for a moment, heart pounding against her ribs. When the door clicked shut, she exhaled shakily, one trembling hand pressing to her chest. Relief washed over her—but so did unease.


That was too close…


And she knew this wasn’t the end.