Yesterday, 09:15 PM
(This post was last modified: Yesterday, 09:21 PM by heygiwriter. Edited 2 times in total. Edited 2 times in total.)
Chapter 43: Mirna's Accidental tease
Next morning—the third day—Mirnaa was attending the big-shot event.
Vikram, with all his pending work finally over, relaxed in the resort room. The acquisition was complete, legalities tied up, payoffs made. He had finished what Krish demanded in record time. For the first time in days, his mind felt lighter.
He decided to call Malar.
She picked up on the first ring.
Vikram smiled. “How did you pick up on the first ring?”
Malar’s voice came soft, almost shy. “I was just looking forward to our call.”
Vikram’s tone dropped. “Come soon. I’m waiting for you.”
Malar kissed the phone—loud, playful—and cut the call.
Meanwhile, Mirnaa reached the event venue.
Almost 1,000 people participated. The main hall buzzed with speeches and networking. Medical camps were attached to the back side of the building—only important people, their staff, and bodyguards were allowed inside the main area.
Mirnaa stood near the edge, watching the politician on stage. He introduced someone: “A young talent, Aadharsh…”
Suddenly, someone rushed from the back. A few people ran in the same direction. Mirnaa saw the movement and followed—curious, concerned. Behind the building, away from the crowd’s view, a man with his face covered by cloth was being beaten and fell down.
When she came near, the watchman removed the cloth.
Mirnaa was shocked.
It was Bharath—the man she thought was a monster from the hospital the other day. Now he lay on the floor, bloodied, bruised, barely conscious.
Everyone else wanted the security officer to come in.
Mirnaa urged, “No—take him to the bed for first aid first.”
Another nurse working with her frowned. “Hey, isn’t this the same person from the hospital the other day—beating someone? Why are you trying to treat him? It’s a big-shot event. Don’t get into trouble.”
Mirnaa responded firmly, “Good man or bad, he needs to be treated. That’s why we’re on the job.”
Bharath could hear her voice—faint, distant. He wanted to see her, but the beatings were too much. He had come here to meet Aadharsh and inform him he wouldn’t bend. Aadharsh had offered a better deal, but the informer—who took the earlier beating personally—bypassed Aadharsh and caused this. Attacked from behind. Otherwise, they wouldn’t stand a chance against Bharath.
A doctor arrived. He knew Bharath was a cop. “No need to inform the security officer. I’ve done it. I’ll treat him.”
He treated him—cleaned wounds, gave IV drips.
As the crowd was full and staff nurses were adequate, the doctor asked Mirnaa to take care of him.
Mirnaa was half minded, she wanted to help him but knowing he was a bad man, She just made sure he was doing fine and decided to go away when some other nurse came to her place.
As Bharath was in deep sleep due to medicine…
Mirnaa asked a nurse to shift her place. “Wait for 2 hours.”
Meanwhile, at the resort…
The door was wide open.
Vikram and Malar kissed each other hungrily.
He locked the door and asked, “Do you miss me that much?”
Malar smiled. “Yes, I do.”
Vikram mocked, “Is this the same woman who said ‘I’m married, I have a kid, don’t turn animal’?”
Malar smiled. “Both are the same woman. Both are true.”
He said, “Explain how you justify this today.”
Malar took a deep breath. “I have wishes. I mean, most women could have—like you men. We want to enjoy sex to the fullest, and need to explore a lot. But you guys judge us, right? For instance, I tried to sit on him and ride Vicky one day. He said some bad cursing words and asked, ‘Are you a slut to have such a mind or done with someone else?’ From then on I never asked him anything. I just spread my legs whenever he wanted. The fear of what my loved one will think hurts me more. Today I have you. It doesn’t matter what you think. We have sexed once. I don’t have anything to lose, but a lot to gain. My way, I can be with you. If you judge me, I have the option to kick you and get away.”
Vikram was surprised. “Who is she? Is she my princess Malar? Can you speak this openly?”
“I can do a lot more,” she said.
She unbuttoned Vikram’s shirt and inserted her hand inside his boxer.
![[Image: hardcorenasties-tumblr-com-scaled.webp]](https://cdn.xgifer.com/104644/hardcorenasties-tumblr-com-scaled.webp)
“Come, let’s start. My way. I want to ride you.”
Vikram teased, “Hey, no…” He mimicked her earlier resistance, then fell on the bed.
Two hours later, a staff nurse phoned the room.
“Mirnaa, my work is done. Come in 10 minutes. I’ll hand over the file and get to your room. Also pack your things—your hospital people called back. They have many emergency cases there.”
The phone ring made Bharath awake. He could not open his eyes fully, but he stirred. The sun rays screeching in made him more irritated. He closed his eyes again.
Mirnaa saw the patient chart—the name was written as “Case 16,” no name, nothing.
Mirnaa quickly packed all her belongings she had kept there—stethoscope, notepad, small pouch of essentials—stuffing them into her bag with hurried hands. Her shift was over, emergency cases were piling up back at the main hospital, and she needed to leave fast.
Then she noticed it.
One charger—hers—still plugged into the socket above Bharath’s bed.
The doctor who’d come earlier to check on him had used it to charge his phone, and it was left dangling just out of easy reach. The plug point was mounted high on the wall, right above his headboard.
No one else was around. The other nurse had stepped out for a moment.
Mirnaa glanced at Bharath—he was still in deep sleep, medicine keeping him under, chest rising and falling slowly, bandages fresh on his arms, dried blood staining the edges.
She couldn’t leave the charger behind.
With urgency pushing her, she stepped close to the bed, leaned over him, and stretched upward.
Her body arched—waist bending, one knee pressing lightly into the mattress edge for balance. The saree, already slightly loosened from the long day, slid a little at her shoulder. The pallu dipped, the blouse stretched tight across her chest.
She reached higher—fingertips brushing the plug.
In that stretch, her breasts—full, heavy from the day, cradled in the soft cotton of her blouse—came forward and gently, unintentionally, crushed against Bharath’s face.
The weight settled first—warm, pillowy softness pressing directly over his cheek and mouth through the thin fabric. The curve of one breast molded perfectly against his lips, the other resting across his nose and closed eyes.
The blouse was slightly damp from her sweat after the long shift, clinging just enough to outline the shape, the faint scent of her skin—hospital antiseptic mixed with her own faint jasmine—drifting down.
Bharath stirred.
His body registered it before his mind: the sudden, overwhelming softness enveloping half his face, the gentle pressure of her nipple (hardened slightly from the cool hospital air and the stretch) pressing through cotton right against his lower lip.
The heaviness of her breasts shifted with her breathing—rising, falling—each subtle movement brushing across his skin, warm and alive.
He woke instantly.
But he didn’t move.
Didn’t flinch.
Didn’t open his eyes.
He stayed perfectly still—feeling every detail: the way her breasts yielded against his face, the faint heartbeat thudding through them, the heat radiating from her chest, the accidental drag of fabric as she stretched higher.
One more push upward—her body leaned further, pressing her breasts even more firmly onto him, the full weight now resting, molding, the nipple sliding slightly across his lip with the motion.
A quiet, involuntary breath escaped him—hot against the cotton.
Mirnaa felt the faint exhale on her skin through the blouse. She froze for a half-second—confused, then embarrassed—realizing how close she was, how much of her chest was pressed against his face.
“Ufff…” she whispered under her breath, cheeks flushing.
She gave one final stretch, fingers closing around the charger plug, yanking it free.
The moment she pulled back, her breasts lifted off his face—slowly, reluctantly, the soft flesh dragging one last time across his lips and cheek before breaking contact.
She stepped away quickly, flustered, tucking the charger into her bag without looking back.
Bharath’s eyes cracked open—just a sliver.
He watched her retreating figure—saree slightly askew, blouse still wrinkled from the pressure, the faint outline of her nipple visible for a second through the fabric before she adjusted it.
He smirked—slow, private, dangerous.
She hadn’t noticed.
But he had.
He knew exactly who she was.
The nurse from the hospital entrance—the one who’d asked “Sir… are you okay?” while he bled. She was the same women today wanted to get him treated he assumed from voices he heard when the phone comes minutes before.
And now he knew how soft she felt.
How heavy.
How warm.
Bharath lay back, eyes half-lidded, the smirk lingering.
The pain in his body was nothing compared to the new hunger stirring.
Mirnaa hurried out of the room— she had to catch her rest of the team—completely unaware that the man she had just mistaken for a monster had just tasted her innocence by accident.
And he wasn’t going to forget it.
Next morning—the third day—Mirnaa was attending the big-shot event.
Vikram, with all his pending work finally over, relaxed in the resort room. The acquisition was complete, legalities tied up, payoffs made. He had finished what Krish demanded in record time. For the first time in days, his mind felt lighter.
He decided to call Malar.
She picked up on the first ring.
Vikram smiled. “How did you pick up on the first ring?”
Malar’s voice came soft, almost shy. “I was just looking forward to our call.”
Vikram’s tone dropped. “Come soon. I’m waiting for you.”
Malar kissed the phone—loud, playful—and cut the call.
Meanwhile, Mirnaa reached the event venue.
Almost 1,000 people participated. The main hall buzzed with speeches and networking. Medical camps were attached to the back side of the building—only important people, their staff, and bodyguards were allowed inside the main area.
Mirnaa stood near the edge, watching the politician on stage. He introduced someone: “A young talent, Aadharsh…”
Suddenly, someone rushed from the back. A few people ran in the same direction. Mirnaa saw the movement and followed—curious, concerned. Behind the building, away from the crowd’s view, a man with his face covered by cloth was being beaten and fell down.
When she came near, the watchman removed the cloth.
Mirnaa was shocked.
It was Bharath—the man she thought was a monster from the hospital the other day. Now he lay on the floor, bloodied, bruised, barely conscious.
Everyone else wanted the security officer to come in.
Mirnaa urged, “No—take him to the bed for first aid first.”
Another nurse working with her frowned. “Hey, isn’t this the same person from the hospital the other day—beating someone? Why are you trying to treat him? It’s a big-shot event. Don’t get into trouble.”
Mirnaa responded firmly, “Good man or bad, he needs to be treated. That’s why we’re on the job.”
Bharath could hear her voice—faint, distant. He wanted to see her, but the beatings were too much. He had come here to meet Aadharsh and inform him he wouldn’t bend. Aadharsh had offered a better deal, but the informer—who took the earlier beating personally—bypassed Aadharsh and caused this. Attacked from behind. Otherwise, they wouldn’t stand a chance against Bharath.
A doctor arrived. He knew Bharath was a cop. “No need to inform the security officer. I’ve done it. I’ll treat him.”
He treated him—cleaned wounds, gave IV drips.
As the crowd was full and staff nurses were adequate, the doctor asked Mirnaa to take care of him.
Mirnaa was half minded, she wanted to help him but knowing he was a bad man, She just made sure he was doing fine and decided to go away when some other nurse came to her place.
As Bharath was in deep sleep due to medicine…
Mirnaa asked a nurse to shift her place. “Wait for 2 hours.”
Meanwhile, at the resort…
The door was wide open.
Vikram and Malar kissed each other hungrily.
He locked the door and asked, “Do you miss me that much?”
Malar smiled. “Yes, I do.”
Vikram mocked, “Is this the same woman who said ‘I’m married, I have a kid, don’t turn animal’?”
Malar smiled. “Both are the same woman. Both are true.”
He said, “Explain how you justify this today.”
Malar took a deep breath. “I have wishes. I mean, most women could have—like you men. We want to enjoy sex to the fullest, and need to explore a lot. But you guys judge us, right? For instance, I tried to sit on him and ride Vicky one day. He said some bad cursing words and asked, ‘Are you a slut to have such a mind or done with someone else?’ From then on I never asked him anything. I just spread my legs whenever he wanted. The fear of what my loved one will think hurts me more. Today I have you. It doesn’t matter what you think. We have sexed once. I don’t have anything to lose, but a lot to gain. My way, I can be with you. If you judge me, I have the option to kick you and get away.”
Vikram was surprised. “Who is she? Is she my princess Malar? Can you speak this openly?”
“I can do a lot more,” she said.
She unbuttoned Vikram’s shirt and inserted her hand inside his boxer.
“Come, let’s start. My way. I want to ride you.”
Vikram teased, “Hey, no…” He mimicked her earlier resistance, then fell on the bed.
Two hours later, a staff nurse phoned the room.
“Mirnaa, my work is done. Come in 10 minutes. I’ll hand over the file and get to your room. Also pack your things—your hospital people called back. They have many emergency cases there.”
The phone ring made Bharath awake. He could not open his eyes fully, but he stirred. The sun rays screeching in made him more irritated. He closed his eyes again.
Mirnaa saw the patient chart—the name was written as “Case 16,” no name, nothing.
Mirnaa quickly packed all her belongings she had kept there—stethoscope, notepad, small pouch of essentials—stuffing them into her bag with hurried hands. Her shift was over, emergency cases were piling up back at the main hospital, and she needed to leave fast.
Then she noticed it.
One charger—hers—still plugged into the socket above Bharath’s bed.
The doctor who’d come earlier to check on him had used it to charge his phone, and it was left dangling just out of easy reach. The plug point was mounted high on the wall, right above his headboard.
No one else was around. The other nurse had stepped out for a moment.
Mirnaa glanced at Bharath—he was still in deep sleep, medicine keeping him under, chest rising and falling slowly, bandages fresh on his arms, dried blood staining the edges.
She couldn’t leave the charger behind.
With urgency pushing her, she stepped close to the bed, leaned over him, and stretched upward.
Her body arched—waist bending, one knee pressing lightly into the mattress edge for balance. The saree, already slightly loosened from the long day, slid a little at her shoulder. The pallu dipped, the blouse stretched tight across her chest.
She reached higher—fingertips brushing the plug.
In that stretch, her breasts—full, heavy from the day, cradled in the soft cotton of her blouse—came forward and gently, unintentionally, crushed against Bharath’s face.
The weight settled first—warm, pillowy softness pressing directly over his cheek and mouth through the thin fabric. The curve of one breast molded perfectly against his lips, the other resting across his nose and closed eyes.
The blouse was slightly damp from her sweat after the long shift, clinging just enough to outline the shape, the faint scent of her skin—hospital antiseptic mixed with her own faint jasmine—drifting down.
Bharath stirred.
His body registered it before his mind: the sudden, overwhelming softness enveloping half his face, the gentle pressure of her nipple (hardened slightly from the cool hospital air and the stretch) pressing through cotton right against his lower lip.
The heaviness of her breasts shifted with her breathing—rising, falling—each subtle movement brushing across his skin, warm and alive.
He woke instantly.
But he didn’t move.
Didn’t flinch.
Didn’t open his eyes.
He stayed perfectly still—feeling every detail: the way her breasts yielded against his face, the faint heartbeat thudding through them, the heat radiating from her chest, the accidental drag of fabric as she stretched higher.
One more push upward—her body leaned further, pressing her breasts even more firmly onto him, the full weight now resting, molding, the nipple sliding slightly across his lip with the motion.
A quiet, involuntary breath escaped him—hot against the cotton.
Mirnaa felt the faint exhale on her skin through the blouse. She froze for a half-second—confused, then embarrassed—realizing how close she was, how much of her chest was pressed against his face.
“Ufff…” she whispered under her breath, cheeks flushing.
She gave one final stretch, fingers closing around the charger plug, yanking it free.
The moment she pulled back, her breasts lifted off his face—slowly, reluctantly, the soft flesh dragging one last time across his lips and cheek before breaking contact.
She stepped away quickly, flustered, tucking the charger into her bag without looking back.
Bharath’s eyes cracked open—just a sliver.
He watched her retreating figure—saree slightly askew, blouse still wrinkled from the pressure, the faint outline of her nipple visible for a second through the fabric before she adjusted it.
He smirked—slow, private, dangerous.
She hadn’t noticed.
But he had.
He knew exactly who she was.
The nurse from the hospital entrance—the one who’d asked “Sir… are you okay?” while he bled. She was the same women today wanted to get him treated he assumed from voices he heard when the phone comes minutes before.
And now he knew how soft she felt.
How heavy.
How warm.
Bharath lay back, eyes half-lidded, the smirk lingering.
The pain in his body was nothing compared to the new hunger stirring.
Mirnaa hurried out of the room— she had to catch her rest of the team—completely unaware that the man she had just mistaken for a monster had just tasted her innocence by accident.
And he wasn’t going to forget it.
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