23-12-2025, 07:20 PM
Chapter 34 – The Morning Messages
2 AM — Chennai
Prem never knew when he fell asleep.
The phone had slipped from his hand onto the pillow, screen still glowing faintly with the last message he’d sent.
Love you. Come home soon. I’m trying to be better. For us.
He had typed and deleted a dozen times before that.
Apologies for the years of control.
Promises to listen more, trust more.
Memories of their early days — the elopement thrill, the tiny room, her smile when he brought home his first paycheck.
Finally, exhaustion took him.
He slept deeply — dreaming of Nivi smiling like she used to, eyes bright with the fire he’d long forgotten.
Hoping tomorrow she’d see his effort.
Feel his change.
2 AM — Bangalore Penthouse
The moaning still filled the room — low, breathless, uncontrolled, a symphony of surrender that echoed off the high ceilings and glass walls.
They were on the second round — after a short break to catch their breath, bodies slick with sweat, sheets twisted and damp beneath them, clinging to skin like a second layer.
![[Image: passionate-love-185-scaled.webp]](https://cdn.xgifer.com/41788/passionate-love-185-scaled.webp)
Rohan felt it this time.
Nivi was different.
Not just responding — taking.
Her hips rising to meet his thrusts with urgency, grinding back against him, demanding more.
Nails digging deeper into his back, leaving red trails that burned sweetly.
Mouth hungry on his neck, his chest — biting, sucking, marking him as hers with wet, possessive kisses.
She was too much into him.
Lost in him.
Completely surrendered to the rhythm — body moving in perfect sync, every roll of her hips pulling him deeper.
He moved slower now — deeper strokes, grinding against her with every plunge, feeling her clit rub against him, watching her face in the dim light filtering from the city below.
Every gasp that escaped her parted lips — soft, sharp, building.
Every flutter of her closed eyes — lashes trembling.
Every time her brows furrowed in pleasure — lost in the sensation.
She was his.
Completely.
The thought fueled him — thrusts steady, powerful, the wet slap of skin on skin echoing softly in the quiet suite, rhythmic and primal.
Her walls clenched around him — tight, hot, pulling him deeper with every withdrawal, as if refusing to let go.
He groaned into her hair — low, guttural.
She whispered his name — broken, desperate, a plea and a claim.
They came again — her body shuddering beneath him, back arching off the bed, walls pulsing and milking him in waves as he spilled inside, hot pulses filling her, marking her from within.
Collapsed together.
Breaths mingling — heavy, syncing slowly.
Sweat-slick skin cooling in the night air.
No words.
Just the quiet afterglow — hearts pounding in unison, bodies entwined, the world outside forgotten.
Morning — 6 AM, Chennai
Prem woke early, before the sun fully rose.
The room still quiet, shadows long. He reached for his phone — habit.
No reply from Nivi.
He smiled anyway. She’d be tired. Travelling. Meetings.
Busy.
He lay there a moment, thinking.
How Nivi used to wake early — coffee brewing, Aara’s lunch packed, everything ready before he stirred.
He had taken it for granted.
Pushed her dreams aside.
Today, he’d make dinner.
Surprise her when she returned.
Show her the change was real.
He got up quietly — careful not to wake Aara in the next room.
Started the coffee machine.
The aroma filled the kitchen.
Felt good.
Like hope.
7 AM — Bangalore Penthouse
Sun rays scattered through the floor-to-ceiling windows, golden light spilling across the tangled sheets, warming bare skin.
Nivi woke slowly — body heavy, deliciously sore.
Felt the weight.
Heavy.
Warm.
Rohan — asleep on top of her, face buried in the curve of her neck, breath steady against her skin.
Arm dbangd possessively across her waist, holding her close.
His body still joined to hers — cock nestled deep inside, semi-hard from the night, filling her even in sleep.
She froze.
Memories flooded — the passion, the surrender, the multiple rounds until exhaustion.
Then shifted slightly — testing, adjusting.
The movement woke him.
He stirred — morning erection swelling instantly, thickening inside her, stuffing her fuller, stretching the sensitive walls anew.
A moan escaped her lips — involuntary, surprised, pleasure-pain sharp.
He lifted his head, eyes sleepy but darkening with want.
“Good morning, baby…”
Baby?
Nivi’s eyes widened.
Shocked.
“When did you start calling me…”
He silenced her with a slow grind of his hips — deep, deliberate circle that made her gasp.
From now on.
She stopped him — hand on his chest, fingers pressing.
“No… today we need to return. At least give me time to fresh up…”
But Rohan pulled her closer, lips brushing hers.
Kissed her — deep, lazy, morning taste of sleep and sex.
Round four started.
Slow.
Intense.
He moved with purpose — long strokes, grinding clit on every push, hand cupping breast, thumb teasing nipple.
She surrendered again — legs wrapping his waist, pulling deeper.
![[Image: turning-into-a-fucktoy-so-you-told-youre...caled.webp]](https://cdn.xgifer.com/205296/turning-into-a-fucktoy-so-you-told-youre-experienced-in-handling-monstercocks-sweetie-rainia-belle-vs-bruce-venture-6-scaled.webp)
Felt spoiled by him.
A happiness — raw, new, better than anything with Prem.
When they came — shuddering together, quiet cries into each other’s mouths, bodies clenching in unison.
She reached for her phone on the nightstand — hand trembling slightly.
Screen lit up.
Dozens of notifications.
Prem.
No questions. Just presence.
The messages unread.
But there. Accusing..
2 AM — Chennai
Prem never knew when he fell asleep.
The phone had slipped from his hand onto the pillow, screen still glowing faintly with the last message he’d sent.
Love you. Come home soon. I’m trying to be better. For us.
He had typed and deleted a dozen times before that.
Apologies for the years of control.
Promises to listen more, trust more.
Memories of their early days — the elopement thrill, the tiny room, her smile when he brought home his first paycheck.
Finally, exhaustion took him.
He slept deeply — dreaming of Nivi smiling like she used to, eyes bright with the fire he’d long forgotten.
Hoping tomorrow she’d see his effort.
Feel his change.
2 AM — Bangalore Penthouse
The moaning still filled the room — low, breathless, uncontrolled, a symphony of surrender that echoed off the high ceilings and glass walls.
They were on the second round — after a short break to catch their breath, bodies slick with sweat, sheets twisted and damp beneath them, clinging to skin like a second layer.
Rohan felt it this time.
Nivi was different.
Not just responding — taking.
Her hips rising to meet his thrusts with urgency, grinding back against him, demanding more.
Nails digging deeper into his back, leaving red trails that burned sweetly.
Mouth hungry on his neck, his chest — biting, sucking, marking him as hers with wet, possessive kisses.
She was too much into him.
Lost in him.
Completely surrendered to the rhythm — body moving in perfect sync, every roll of her hips pulling him deeper.
He moved slower now — deeper strokes, grinding against her with every plunge, feeling her clit rub against him, watching her face in the dim light filtering from the city below.
Every gasp that escaped her parted lips — soft, sharp, building.
Every flutter of her closed eyes — lashes trembling.
Every time her brows furrowed in pleasure — lost in the sensation.
She was his.
Completely.
The thought fueled him — thrusts steady, powerful, the wet slap of skin on skin echoing softly in the quiet suite, rhythmic and primal.
Her walls clenched around him — tight, hot, pulling him deeper with every withdrawal, as if refusing to let go.
He groaned into her hair — low, guttural.
She whispered his name — broken, desperate, a plea and a claim.
They came again — her body shuddering beneath him, back arching off the bed, walls pulsing and milking him in waves as he spilled inside, hot pulses filling her, marking her from within.
Collapsed together.
Breaths mingling — heavy, syncing slowly.
Sweat-slick skin cooling in the night air.
No words.
Just the quiet afterglow — hearts pounding in unison, bodies entwined, the world outside forgotten.
Morning — 6 AM, Chennai
Prem woke early, before the sun fully rose.
The room still quiet, shadows long. He reached for his phone — habit.
No reply from Nivi.
He smiled anyway. She’d be tired. Travelling. Meetings.
Busy.
He lay there a moment, thinking.
How Nivi used to wake early — coffee brewing, Aara’s lunch packed, everything ready before he stirred.
He had taken it for granted.
Pushed her dreams aside.
Today, he’d make dinner.
Surprise her when she returned.
Show her the change was real.
He got up quietly — careful not to wake Aara in the next room.
Started the coffee machine.
The aroma filled the kitchen.
Felt good.
Like hope.
7 AM — Bangalore Penthouse
Sun rays scattered through the floor-to-ceiling windows, golden light spilling across the tangled sheets, warming bare skin.
Nivi woke slowly — body heavy, deliciously sore.
Felt the weight.
Heavy.
Warm.
Rohan — asleep on top of her, face buried in the curve of her neck, breath steady against her skin.
Arm dbangd possessively across her waist, holding her close.
His body still joined to hers — cock nestled deep inside, semi-hard from the night, filling her even in sleep.
She froze.
Memories flooded — the passion, the surrender, the multiple rounds until exhaustion.
Then shifted slightly — testing, adjusting.
The movement woke him.
He stirred — morning erection swelling instantly, thickening inside her, stuffing her fuller, stretching the sensitive walls anew.
A moan escaped her lips — involuntary, surprised, pleasure-pain sharp.
He lifted his head, eyes sleepy but darkening with want.
“Good morning, baby…”
Baby?
Nivi’s eyes widened.
Shocked.
“When did you start calling me…”
He silenced her with a slow grind of his hips — deep, deliberate circle that made her gasp.
From now on.
She stopped him — hand on his chest, fingers pressing.
“No… today we need to return. At least give me time to fresh up…”
But Rohan pulled her closer, lips brushing hers.
Kissed her — deep, lazy, morning taste of sleep and sex.
Round four started.
Slow.
Intense.
He moved with purpose — long strokes, grinding clit on every push, hand cupping breast, thumb teasing nipple.
She surrendered again — legs wrapping his waist, pulling deeper.
A happiness — raw, new, better than anything with Prem.
When they came — shuddering together, quiet cries into each other’s mouths, bodies clenching in unison.
She reached for her phone on the nightstand — hand trembling slightly.
Screen lit up.
Dozens of notifications.
Prem.
No questions. Just presence.
The messages unread.
But there. Accusing..
![[+]](https://xossipy.com/themes/sharepoint/collapse_collapsed.png)