25-01-2026, 01:29 PM
Chapter 56 – The Mark & The Surrender
Vani stepped out of the auto-rickshaw, the engine’s sputter fading into the rhythmic crash of waves somewhere beyond the compound wall.
She handed the driver a crumpled note and a few coins — he nodded without looking up, already pulling away.
The gate loomed ahead — black wrought iron, partially open, flanked by two stone pillars lit by low, amber uplights.
She paused.
Her heart was beating too fast — not just from the ride, but from something she couldn’t name yet.
Fear? Anticipation? A strange cocktail of both.
She sensed something — a shift in the air, a pull she couldn’t articulate — but she couldn’t quite realise what it was.
All she knew was curiosity.
Aadhil had called it “a surprise” — casual, almost offhand, when he’d texted her the address that morning.
That word alone had kept looping in her mind all day.
She adjusted the strap of her midnight-blue maxi — the one he’d sent — and took one step forward.
Then another.
The driveway opened up.
And she stopped breathing for a second.
A row of cars gleamed under the garden lights — polished obsidian and chrome catching the glow like dark jewels.
A Porsche 911 Turbo S — matte black, low and predatory.
Next to it, a Bugatti Chiron — impossible blue, crouched like it could devour the road.
Then a BMW M8 Competition — gunmetal grey, aggressive vents.
A Mercedes-Maybach S680 — stately, obscene in its luxury.
Even the “least” car in the line was an Audi R8 V10 — red, sleek, arrogant.
Vani’s mouth went dry.
This.
This was the world she had tasted only briefly after marrying Nitin — back when his family still had money, before the step-brothers tore it apart.
She remembered the first time she sat in a car like that — the smell of leather, the low purr of the engine, the way people looked at her differently.
She had wanted it again.
Every day since the fall, she had wanted it again.
She took a deep, shaky inhale — salt air filling her lungs.
Her fingers tightened around her clutch.
“Okay,” she whispered to herself.
“Prepare for anything.”
She straightened her shoulders, smoothed the dress over her hips, and walked through the gate.
The gravel crunched under her heels — each step louder than the last.
The front door stood open — warm light spilling out, laughter and low music drifting from inside.
She crossed the threshold.
And stepped into the rest of her life.
Inside, Aadhil stood just past the threshold — casual linen shirt unbuttoned one extra notch, sleeves rolled to the elbows, a half-empty bottle of beer dangling loosely from his right hand.
The hallway light behind him cast a warm halo around his shoulders.
He saw Vani step in — and his face changed.
The easy host smile he’d worn for the crowd softened into something more private, more deliberate.
He didn’t speak right away.
Just looked at her — eyes traveling slowly from the way the midnight-blue maxi hugged her hips, up the bare line of her collarbone, to the nervous flicker in her gaze.
Then he smiled — small, almost tender.
“Hi,” he said quietly.
Vani managed a shaky laugh. “Hi.”
He stepped forward — close enough that she could smell the beer on his breath and the faint salt-and-cedar of his cologne.
Without asking, his left arm slid around her waist — firm, warm, possessive in a way that felt both protective and dangerous.
He turned them both toward the living room where the small crowd waited.
“Ladies and gentlemen…” His voice carried easily, playful but commanding. “…meet my girl.”
A ripple of approval rolled through the group — eight or ten people, all elite-looking, expensive watches glinting, laughter bright and loose.
Glasses lifted. Someone whistled. A woman near the bar called out, “Finally!”
Vani froze.
Her smile locked in place — polite, practiced — but her body stiffened against his side.
Every pair of eyes landed on her at once — curious, amused, measuring.
She felt suddenly naked despite the dress.
Aadhil’s fingers flexed lightly against her waist — a silent steady.
Then he dipped his head — lips brushing the shell of her ear.
“Excuse us for a moment,” he murmured to the room, but mostly to her.
The crowd chuckled knowingly as he guided her past them — arm never leaving her waist — through the open living area and down the short hallway.
Into the bedroom.
He nudged the door shut behind them.
The lock clicked — soft, final.
The room was dim — only a single floor lamp and the faint glow leaking through the tinted glass windows.
He turned to face her — expression shifting from playful host to something quieter, more serious.
“Sorry,” he said first. “My friends came early. You don’t need to know who my ex is — it would look staged if I pointed her out.”
Vani nodded — pulse thundering in her throat.
She didn’t trust her voice yet.
Aadhil reached into the pocket of his trousers and pulled out a slim, gift-wrapped envelope — black paper, silver ribbon.
He held it out.
“For you.”
Vani took it with trembling fingers — tore the paper carefully.
Inside — a partnership document.
Her name — Vani Nitin Prakash — listed alongside Aadhil, Nivi, Rohan.
Annual share: 30 lakhs.
Fixed.
She stared — breath stuck somewhere between her lungs and her mouth.
“This is…” Her voice cracked. “…huge.”
Aadhil stepped closer — voice dropping low.
“I did all this because you deserve it.”
He paused — let the weight of the number settle.
“And your help tonight will be bigger than you think.”
Vani looked up — eyes glassy.
He reached out — brushed a strand of hair behind her ear.
“My ex is sharp,” They will look out for the mark.. i usually does to my ex(es)... he continued, tone shifting to business. “They’ll approach you.
They’ll test your genuineness. Quick answers — memorize them.”
He held up one finger.
“One. My size — you say it’s longer than it could fit in your mouth.”
Vani’s cheeks flamed instantly.
He continued — second finger.
“Two. I have a few moles on my penis.”
Third finger.
“Three. I love missionary.”
Vani’s mouth opened — closed — no sound came out.
“Aadhil… I can’t—”
He didn’t let her finish.
His gaze dropped to her dress — the midnight-blue spaghetti-strap bodycon he’d chosen, the way it clung to every curve.
“You look incredible,” he said — voice rougher now.
Vani looked down — suddenly hyper-aware of how exposed her shoulders were, how the fabric stretched across her breasts.
He stepped even closer — hand settling on her waist again.
“For the mark…” he murmured. “…it has to be natural.”
Vani was confused on mark?
She innocently asked it is a tattoo?
Before she could process the words — his hand slid up under the hem of her maxi.
Fingers found bare skin — warm, sure.
He tugged the fabric aside just enough.
Cupped her breast — thumb brushing the nipple once, twice.
Vani was bit shaken.. by his sudden action on her breast ...
Then he bent — mouth closing over the soft swell.
Teeth grazed — then bit.
Not hard enough to break skin — but firm enough to leave a clear, red crescent.
Vani gasped — body jerking forward.
“What are you—”
Aadhil pulled back — admiring the mark.
“Now perfect.”
He smoothed the fabric back down — quick, casual, like he’d just fixed her strap.
“Now go out there,” he said. “Cover my honor.”
He opened the door — no pause, no chance to argue.
Vani stumbled back into the living room — legs unsteady, breath short.
The bite throbbed under the dress — hot, secret, undeniable.
Aadhil followed — arm sliding around her waist again.
Back in the crowd, the air had thickened — laughter louder, drinks stronger, the scent of salt and perfume mingling with the faint coconut oil from someone’s skin.
Aadhil walked Vani back into the center of the room — his arm dbangd low around her waist, fingers resting possessively just above the curve of her hip.
He stopped in the middle of the loose circle of guests and raised his voice, warm but commanding.
“Ladies and gentlemen… meet my lover.”
A ripple of approval rolled through the group — glasses lifted, a few whistles, a low chorus of “Finally!” and “About time!”
Vani felt every pair of eyes land on her — appraising, amused, curious. Her skin prickled under the midnight-blue fabric. The bite mark on her breast throbbed faintly beneath the thin strap, a secret brand she could still feel pulsing.
Aadhil turned to her — eyes dark, smile slow.
The crowd picked up the cue instantly.
“Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!”
The chant started soft, then swelled — rhythmic, teasing, insistent.
Vani’s breath caught. She looked up at him — half-question, half-warning.
Aadhil’s hand slid up her back — steady, reassuring — cradling the nape of her neck.
He leaned in slowly — giving her one long second to pull away if she wanted.
She didn’t.
Their lips met — soft at first, almost tentative, like the first brush of a secret.
The crowd cheered louder.
Aadhil deepened the kiss — tilting her head gently, tongue slipping past her lips, tasting the champagne she’d drunk earlier.
Vani froze for a heartbeat — body stiff, mind screaming this is too much, too public — then something inside her gave way.
She leaned in — parted her lips wider, let her tongue meet his, let her hands slide up his chest to grip his shirt.
The kiss turned hungry — wet, slow, deliberate.
One of her hands drifted to the back of his neck, fingers threading into his hair.
The crowd whooped — glasses clinking, someone whistled sharply.
When they finally parted — both breathing harder — Aadhil rested his forehead against hers for a second, smiling.
“Good girl,” he whispered — so low only she heard.
Vani’s cheeks burned. Her lips felt swollen, tingling.
The crowd didn’t let the moment linger.
The group naturally split — men drifting toward the bar and cigars, women clustering near the low couches and the open balcony doors.
Two women peeled away from the group and approached Vani — Aadhil’s “ex” circle, elegant, sharp-eyed, smiling like they already knew everything.
“So…” the taller one said, voice silky, “you’re the new one.”
Vani swallowed — remembering Aadhil’s script.
“Yes.”
The shorter one tilted her head — “Tell us… his size?”
Vani’s face flamed, but she forced her voice steady.
“Longer… than it could fit in my mouth.”
Both women laughed — genuine, approving.
“Moles?” the tall one asked.
“Few… on his penis.”
“And his favorite position?” the shorter one pressed, eyes glinting.
Vani — voice steadier now — “Missionary….”
They exchanged a look — satisfied.
The taller one leaned closer — conspiratorial.
“You’re good. He marked you already?”
Vani hesitated — then lifted the thin strap of her maxi just enough to show the fresh bite mark on the swell of her breast — red, indented, unmistakable.
The women smiled — slow, approving.
“Welcome to the club.”
They drifted away — leaving Vani standing alone for a moment, pulse loud in her ears.
Hours slipped by.
The guest house turned hotter — music lower, lights dimmer, inhibitions melting.
Couples kissed openly — some pressed against walls, others disappearing into darker corners.
Hands roamed under dresses, shirts unbuttoned, soft moans blending with the crash of waves outside.
Aadhil found Vani again — took her hand without asking.
“We need to play around,” he said — voice low, casual.
Vani — voice small — “No… just an act.”
He smiled — “Just an act.”
He led her back into the bedroom — the same one with the tinted glass.
The windows let shapes be seen from outside — silhouettes moving, bodies close — but nothing clear.
He closed the door — locked it.
Turned to her.
“Just make out noises,” he said, voice low and steady, eyes locked on hers. “This is the glass window — let’s enact like we’re making love. Shapes visible, nothing clear. They’ll see us moving, hear us… but not the details.”
Vani’s heart hammered against her ribs — loud enough she was sure he could feel it.
“Okay…” she whispered, the word barely leaving her lips.
But before she could finish the word — before she could even draw the next breath — Aadhil was already peeling off his shirt.
The linen slid over his head in one smooth motion, revealing the lean, hard lines of his torso — muscles defined from hours in private gyms, skin tanned and smooth.
Naked in seconds — trousers dropped, boxers following.
He stood before her — fully bare, body sculpted, hardness proud and thick, curving slightly upward, already glistening at the tip.
Vani shocked asked you said its just an act..?
Aadhil said.. yes this is shady glass they should see my naked form for believability.. Your back with panties wont be an issue....Hope its okay with you we are adults right ?
He winked — playful, confident, dangerous.
Before she could react — before her mind could catch up — his hands were on her maxi straps.
Fingers hooked under the thin spaghetti straps.
The fabric slid down her body in one smooth motion — slow enough to feel like a caress, fast enough to leave her breathless.
It pooled at her feet — midnight blue against the pale marble floor.
She stood in only her lace panties — black, delicate, already damp.
Arms instinctively crossing over her breasts — protecting, hiding.
Aadhil stepped close — heat radiating from his skin.
He didn’t speak.
Just kissed her again — real, deep, tongue claiming, tasting champagne and surrender.
His hand slipped between her thighs — fingers brushing over the lace, slow, deliberate circles.
Vani’s knees weakened — a soft whimper escaped into his mouth.
She realised its no more an act an calculated move from Aadhil...
He felt her wetness — smiled against her lips.
Pulled back just enough to whisper.
"You’re ready for me."
He hooked his fingers in her panties — slid them down her legs.
She stepped out — trembling, exposed.
He lifted her — arms strong under her thighs and back — carried her to the bed like she weighed nothing.
Laid her down — gentle, reverent.
Spread her legs — slowly, eyes never leaving hers.
Kissed her neck — soft, then harder, teeth grazing.
Collarbone — tongue tracing the line.
Down to the bite mark — tongue circling it, making her shiver.
Then lower — kissing her stomach, her hips, the soft skin of her inner thighs.
Vani’s hands fisted the sheets — breath ragged, body arching toward him.
He settled between her thighs — kissed the inside of each — teasing, lingering.
Then his mouth found her — tongue slow, deliberate, circling her clit with perfect pressure.
Vani arched — "Aadhil…"
He licked — long, flat strokes, then focused suction.
She moaned — hips lifting, chasing more.
He slid two fingers inside — curled them, stroking that spot deep within.
She came — sudden, sharp, crying out, body shaking.
He didn’t stop — kept licking through the aftershocks, drawing it out until she was trembling, oversensitive.
When she finally relaxed — gasping, flushed — he rose over her.
Cock hard, thick, glistening with her arousal and his own.
He positioned himself — rubbed the head against her entrance, teasing, coating himself.
“Look at me,” he said — voice rough.
Vani’s eyes fluttered open — met his, dark with desire.
He pushed in — slow, inch by inch.
Vani gasped — hands clutching his shoulders, nails digging in.
Fullness — stretch — heat overwhelming.
He paused when fully inside — letting her adjust, forehead against hers.
"Breathe..."
Then began to move — slow, deep thrusts, hips rolling, letting her feel every ridge, every vein.
Vani wrapped her legs around him — pulling him closer, heels pressing into his back.
He fucked her steadily — building rhythm, skin slapping softly.
She moaned — "Harder…"
He obliged — hips snapping, bed creaking softly.
She came again — walls fluttering around him, body arching.
He followed — deep, groaning against her neck, release hot and pulsing.
She surrendered completely...
Aadhil — stroking her hair — “Welcome to the real world, Vani.”
Vani — smiling, conflicted, voice small — “those papers are real? are trick to get me”
Aadhil looked at her eyes for a moment
She had surrendered — not tricked, not forced — but tempted beyond resistance.
For the money.
For the power.
For the ladder she had always wanted.
And Aadhil knew — she would keep climbing.
Vani stepped out of the auto-rickshaw, the engine’s sputter fading into the rhythmic crash of waves somewhere beyond the compound wall.
She handed the driver a crumpled note and a few coins — he nodded without looking up, already pulling away.
The gate loomed ahead — black wrought iron, partially open, flanked by two stone pillars lit by low, amber uplights.
She paused.
Her heart was beating too fast — not just from the ride, but from something she couldn’t name yet.
Fear? Anticipation? A strange cocktail of both.
She sensed something — a shift in the air, a pull she couldn’t articulate — but she couldn’t quite realise what it was.
All she knew was curiosity.
Aadhil had called it “a surprise” — casual, almost offhand, when he’d texted her the address that morning.
That word alone had kept looping in her mind all day.
She adjusted the strap of her midnight-blue maxi — the one he’d sent — and took one step forward.
Then another.
The driveway opened up.
And she stopped breathing for a second.
A row of cars gleamed under the garden lights — polished obsidian and chrome catching the glow like dark jewels.
A Porsche 911 Turbo S — matte black, low and predatory.
Next to it, a Bugatti Chiron — impossible blue, crouched like it could devour the road.
Then a BMW M8 Competition — gunmetal grey, aggressive vents.
A Mercedes-Maybach S680 — stately, obscene in its luxury.
Even the “least” car in the line was an Audi R8 V10 — red, sleek, arrogant.
Vani’s mouth went dry.
This.
This was the world she had tasted only briefly after marrying Nitin — back when his family still had money, before the step-brothers tore it apart.
She remembered the first time she sat in a car like that — the smell of leather, the low purr of the engine, the way people looked at her differently.
She had wanted it again.
Every day since the fall, she had wanted it again.
She took a deep, shaky inhale — salt air filling her lungs.
Her fingers tightened around her clutch.
“Okay,” she whispered to herself.
“Prepare for anything.”
She straightened her shoulders, smoothed the dress over her hips, and walked through the gate.
The gravel crunched under her heels — each step louder than the last.
The front door stood open — warm light spilling out, laughter and low music drifting from inside.
She crossed the threshold.
And stepped into the rest of her life.
Inside, Aadhil stood just past the threshold — casual linen shirt unbuttoned one extra notch, sleeves rolled to the elbows, a half-empty bottle of beer dangling loosely from his right hand.
The hallway light behind him cast a warm halo around his shoulders.
He saw Vani step in — and his face changed.
The easy host smile he’d worn for the crowd softened into something more private, more deliberate.
He didn’t speak right away.
Just looked at her — eyes traveling slowly from the way the midnight-blue maxi hugged her hips, up the bare line of her collarbone, to the nervous flicker in her gaze.
Then he smiled — small, almost tender.
“Hi,” he said quietly.
Vani managed a shaky laugh. “Hi.”
He stepped forward — close enough that she could smell the beer on his breath and the faint salt-and-cedar of his cologne.
Without asking, his left arm slid around her waist — firm, warm, possessive in a way that felt both protective and dangerous.
He turned them both toward the living room where the small crowd waited.
“Ladies and gentlemen…” His voice carried easily, playful but commanding. “…meet my girl.”
A ripple of approval rolled through the group — eight or ten people, all elite-looking, expensive watches glinting, laughter bright and loose.
Glasses lifted. Someone whistled. A woman near the bar called out, “Finally!”
Vani froze.
Her smile locked in place — polite, practiced — but her body stiffened against his side.
Every pair of eyes landed on her at once — curious, amused, measuring.
She felt suddenly naked despite the dress.
Aadhil’s fingers flexed lightly against her waist — a silent steady.
Then he dipped his head — lips brushing the shell of her ear.
“Excuse us for a moment,” he murmured to the room, but mostly to her.
The crowd chuckled knowingly as he guided her past them — arm never leaving her waist — through the open living area and down the short hallway.
Into the bedroom.
He nudged the door shut behind them.
The lock clicked — soft, final.
The room was dim — only a single floor lamp and the faint glow leaking through the tinted glass windows.
He turned to face her — expression shifting from playful host to something quieter, more serious.
“Sorry,” he said first. “My friends came early. You don’t need to know who my ex is — it would look staged if I pointed her out.”
Vani nodded — pulse thundering in her throat.
She didn’t trust her voice yet.
Aadhil reached into the pocket of his trousers and pulled out a slim, gift-wrapped envelope — black paper, silver ribbon.
He held it out.
“For you.”
Vani took it with trembling fingers — tore the paper carefully.
Inside — a partnership document.
Her name — Vani Nitin Prakash — listed alongside Aadhil, Nivi, Rohan.
Annual share: 30 lakhs.
Fixed.
She stared — breath stuck somewhere between her lungs and her mouth.
“This is…” Her voice cracked. “…huge.”
Aadhil stepped closer — voice dropping low.
“I did all this because you deserve it.”
He paused — let the weight of the number settle.
“And your help tonight will be bigger than you think.”
Vani looked up — eyes glassy.
He reached out — brushed a strand of hair behind her ear.
“My ex is sharp,” They will look out for the mark.. i usually does to my ex(es)... he continued, tone shifting to business. “They’ll approach you.
They’ll test your genuineness. Quick answers — memorize them.”
He held up one finger.
“One. My size — you say it’s longer than it could fit in your mouth.”
Vani’s cheeks flamed instantly.
He continued — second finger.
“Two. I have a few moles on my penis.”
Third finger.
“Three. I love missionary.”
Vani’s mouth opened — closed — no sound came out.
“Aadhil… I can’t—”
He didn’t let her finish.
His gaze dropped to her dress — the midnight-blue spaghetti-strap bodycon he’d chosen, the way it clung to every curve.
“You look incredible,” he said — voice rougher now.
Vani looked down — suddenly hyper-aware of how exposed her shoulders were, how the fabric stretched across her breasts.
He stepped even closer — hand settling on her waist again.
“For the mark…” he murmured. “…it has to be natural.”
Vani was confused on mark?
She innocently asked it is a tattoo?
Before she could process the words — his hand slid up under the hem of her maxi.
Fingers found bare skin — warm, sure.
He tugged the fabric aside just enough.
Cupped her breast — thumb brushing the nipple once, twice.
Vani was bit shaken.. by his sudden action on her breast ...
Then he bent — mouth closing over the soft swell.
Teeth grazed — then bit.
Not hard enough to break skin — but firm enough to leave a clear, red crescent.
Vani gasped — body jerking forward.
“What are you—”
Aadhil pulled back — admiring the mark.
“Now perfect.”
He smoothed the fabric back down — quick, casual, like he’d just fixed her strap.
“Now go out there,” he said. “Cover my honor.”
He opened the door — no pause, no chance to argue.
Vani stumbled back into the living room — legs unsteady, breath short.
The bite throbbed under the dress — hot, secret, undeniable.
Aadhil followed — arm sliding around her waist again.
Back in the crowd, the air had thickened — laughter louder, drinks stronger, the scent of salt and perfume mingling with the faint coconut oil from someone’s skin.
Aadhil walked Vani back into the center of the room — his arm dbangd low around her waist, fingers resting possessively just above the curve of her hip.
He stopped in the middle of the loose circle of guests and raised his voice, warm but commanding.
“Ladies and gentlemen… meet my lover.”
A ripple of approval rolled through the group — glasses lifted, a few whistles, a low chorus of “Finally!” and “About time!”
Vani felt every pair of eyes land on her — appraising, amused, curious. Her skin prickled under the midnight-blue fabric. The bite mark on her breast throbbed faintly beneath the thin strap, a secret brand she could still feel pulsing.
Aadhil turned to her — eyes dark, smile slow.
The crowd picked up the cue instantly.
“Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!”
The chant started soft, then swelled — rhythmic, teasing, insistent.
Vani’s breath caught. She looked up at him — half-question, half-warning.
Aadhil’s hand slid up her back — steady, reassuring — cradling the nape of her neck.
He leaned in slowly — giving her one long second to pull away if she wanted.
She didn’t.
Their lips met — soft at first, almost tentative, like the first brush of a secret.
The crowd cheered louder.
Aadhil deepened the kiss — tilting her head gently, tongue slipping past her lips, tasting the champagne she’d drunk earlier.
Vani froze for a heartbeat — body stiff, mind screaming this is too much, too public — then something inside her gave way.
She leaned in — parted her lips wider, let her tongue meet his, let her hands slide up his chest to grip his shirt.
The kiss turned hungry — wet, slow, deliberate.
One of her hands drifted to the back of his neck, fingers threading into his hair.
The crowd whooped — glasses clinking, someone whistled sharply.
When they finally parted — both breathing harder — Aadhil rested his forehead against hers for a second, smiling.
“Good girl,” he whispered — so low only she heard.
Vani’s cheeks burned. Her lips felt swollen, tingling.
The crowd didn’t let the moment linger.
The group naturally split — men drifting toward the bar and cigars, women clustering near the low couches and the open balcony doors.
Two women peeled away from the group and approached Vani — Aadhil’s “ex” circle, elegant, sharp-eyed, smiling like they already knew everything.
“So…” the taller one said, voice silky, “you’re the new one.”
Vani swallowed — remembering Aadhil’s script.
“Yes.”
The shorter one tilted her head — “Tell us… his size?”
Vani’s face flamed, but she forced her voice steady.
“Longer… than it could fit in my mouth.”
Both women laughed — genuine, approving.
“Moles?” the tall one asked.
“Few… on his penis.”
“And his favorite position?” the shorter one pressed, eyes glinting.
Vani — voice steadier now — “Missionary….”
They exchanged a look — satisfied.
The taller one leaned closer — conspiratorial.
“You’re good. He marked you already?”
Vani hesitated — then lifted the thin strap of her maxi just enough to show the fresh bite mark on the swell of her breast — red, indented, unmistakable.
The women smiled — slow, approving.
“Welcome to the club.”
They drifted away — leaving Vani standing alone for a moment, pulse loud in her ears.
Hours slipped by.
The guest house turned hotter — music lower, lights dimmer, inhibitions melting.
Couples kissed openly — some pressed against walls, others disappearing into darker corners.
Hands roamed under dresses, shirts unbuttoned, soft moans blending with the crash of waves outside.
Aadhil found Vani again — took her hand without asking.
“We need to play around,” he said — voice low, casual.
Vani — voice small — “No… just an act.”
He smiled — “Just an act.”
He led her back into the bedroom — the same one with the tinted glass.
The windows let shapes be seen from outside — silhouettes moving, bodies close — but nothing clear.
He closed the door — locked it.
Turned to her.
“Just make out noises,” he said, voice low and steady, eyes locked on hers. “This is the glass window — let’s enact like we’re making love. Shapes visible, nothing clear. They’ll see us moving, hear us… but not the details.”
Vani’s heart hammered against her ribs — loud enough she was sure he could feel it.
“Okay…” she whispered, the word barely leaving her lips.
But before she could finish the word — before she could even draw the next breath — Aadhil was already peeling off his shirt.
The linen slid over his head in one smooth motion, revealing the lean, hard lines of his torso — muscles defined from hours in private gyms, skin tanned and smooth.
Naked in seconds — trousers dropped, boxers following.
He stood before her — fully bare, body sculpted, hardness proud and thick, curving slightly upward, already glistening at the tip.
Vani shocked asked you said its just an act..?
Aadhil said.. yes this is shady glass they should see my naked form for believability.. Your back with panties wont be an issue....Hope its okay with you we are adults right ?
He winked — playful, confident, dangerous.
Before she could react — before her mind could catch up — his hands were on her maxi straps.
Fingers hooked under the thin spaghetti straps.
The fabric slid down her body in one smooth motion — slow enough to feel like a caress, fast enough to leave her breathless.
It pooled at her feet — midnight blue against the pale marble floor.
She stood in only her lace panties — black, delicate, already damp.
Arms instinctively crossing over her breasts — protecting, hiding.
Aadhil stepped close — heat radiating from his skin.
He didn’t speak.
Just kissed her again — real, deep, tongue claiming, tasting champagne and surrender.
His hand slipped between her thighs — fingers brushing over the lace, slow, deliberate circles.
Vani’s knees weakened — a soft whimper escaped into his mouth.
She realised its no more an act an calculated move from Aadhil...
He felt her wetness — smiled against her lips.
Pulled back just enough to whisper.
"You’re ready for me."
He hooked his fingers in her panties — slid them down her legs.
She stepped out — trembling, exposed.
He lifted her — arms strong under her thighs and back — carried her to the bed like she weighed nothing.
Laid her down — gentle, reverent.
Spread her legs — slowly, eyes never leaving hers.
Kissed her neck — soft, then harder, teeth grazing.
Collarbone — tongue tracing the line.
Down to the bite mark — tongue circling it, making her shiver.
Then lower — kissing her stomach, her hips, the soft skin of her inner thighs.
Vani’s hands fisted the sheets — breath ragged, body arching toward him.
He settled between her thighs — kissed the inside of each — teasing, lingering.
Then his mouth found her — tongue slow, deliberate, circling her clit with perfect pressure.
Vani arched — "Aadhil…"
He licked — long, flat strokes, then focused suction.
She moaned — hips lifting, chasing more.
He slid two fingers inside — curled them, stroking that spot deep within.
She came — sudden, sharp, crying out, body shaking.
He didn’t stop — kept licking through the aftershocks, drawing it out until she was trembling, oversensitive.
When she finally relaxed — gasping, flushed — he rose over her.
Cock hard, thick, glistening with her arousal and his own.
He positioned himself — rubbed the head against her entrance, teasing, coating himself.
“Look at me,” he said — voice rough.
Vani’s eyes fluttered open — met his, dark with desire.
He pushed in — slow, inch by inch.
Vani gasped — hands clutching his shoulders, nails digging in.
Fullness — stretch — heat overwhelming.
He paused when fully inside — letting her adjust, forehead against hers.
"Breathe..."
Then began to move — slow, deep thrusts, hips rolling, letting her feel every ridge, every vein.
Vani wrapped her legs around him — pulling him closer, heels pressing into his back.
He fucked her steadily — building rhythm, skin slapping softly.
She moaned — "Harder…"
He obliged — hips snapping, bed creaking softly.
She came again — walls fluttering around him, body arching.
He followed — deep, groaning against her neck, release hot and pulsing.
She surrendered completely...
Aadhil — stroking her hair — “Welcome to the real world, Vani.”
Vani — smiling, conflicted, voice small — “those papers are real? are trick to get me”
Aadhil looked at her eyes for a moment
She had surrendered — not tricked, not forced — but tempted beyond resistance.
For the money.
For the power.
For the ladder she had always wanted.
And Aadhil knew — she would keep climbing.
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