Incest Little sis Anjali and her friends

[prasannas2001]

 
Mamta turned back to the screen, but his hand didn't stop.
 
It moved with a deliberate, maddening slowness across the bare skin of her midriff.
 
Each touch was a spark, and under his fingers, she could feel her muscles clench and release, a silent, rhythmic dance of surrender.
 
The little shivers that ran through her body were no longer just reactions; they were invitations.
 
His thumb traced a path upward, a slow, teasing ascent along the curve of her ribs until it found the soft swell of her breast beneath the silk of her saree.
 
He paused there, his hand resting heavily, letting her feel its weight, letting her imagination strip away the barrier of cloth until it was just his skin on hers.
 
"Mamta," he whispered, his voice a dark caress. "Look at me."
 
She turned her head, her eyes finding his in the gloom. They were darker than she'd ever seen them, pools of hunger that threatened to pull her under.
 
"You know I want this, right? I have been waiting to touch these" he asked, his thumb pressing her breasts slightly, a silent question.
 
She couldn't speak. Words felt inadequate, impossible. 

But her body answered for her. 

Her breathing quickened, her lips parted, and her eyes, wide and glistening, held all the consent he needed.
 
"Your body is burning," he murmured, leaning closer. 

"I've been thinking about this. About touching you, about tasting you, since the first time I saw you in this purple silk."
 
"Rohan… " The name was a plea, a warning, but it lacked all conviction.
 
"Tell me to stop," he challenged, his hand stilling. "Just one word, and I'll stop. I'll take my hand away and we'll just watch the movie."
 
The word was there, on the tip of her tongue. It was the right word, the safe word. 

But it wouldn't come out. 

Instead, she gave a slow, deliberate nod, sealing her fate.