Fantasy Priya's Designs

[Rabbitshru]

Chapter 4: The Edge She Craved
Priya stood in the kitchen of their South Delhi apartment the next evening, stirring tea she didn’t really want, while Rahul sat at the dining table with his laptop open. The site visit that afternoon had left her body still humming — Vikram’s fingers inside her while the labourer worked nearby, the quick, filthy orgasm she had swallowed down in silence. She had come home flushed and restless, already counting the hours until she could return.
Rahul looked up from his screen. His voice was casual at first, but there was a new thread of something underneath it. “You’ve been spending a lot of time at the site lately. Evenings too. Is everything okay with the project, or is Vikram giving you extra work?”
Priya turned with the mug in her hands, leaning her hip against the counter. She let her kurti slip slightly off one shoulder as she moved, the soft fabric clinging to the curve of her breast. When she answered, her voice was low and warm, the same tone she used when she wanted to pull him closer in bed.
“It’s just coordination, Rahul. Vikram’s team keeps running into small issues with the finishes I specified, and it’s faster if I’m there in person to sort them. You know how these luxury projects are — one delay and the client starts asking questions.” She crossed the room and set the mug down in front of him, then rested her hand on his shoulder, fingers brushing the back of his neck in a slow, affectionate stroke. “You’ve been working so hard on the structural side. I figured the least I could do was handle the interior coordination without bothering you with every little thing.”
Rahul looked up at her. His eyes flicked briefly to the open neckline of her kurti before returning to her face. “It’s not that I mind. It’s just… you come home late, smelling like dust and concrete, and you seem distracted. Last night you barely touched your dinner. And this morning you were already checking your phone before I left for the office.”
She smiled softly, sliding into the chair beside him so their knees touched. Her hand stayed on his shoulder, thumb now tracing small circles against his skin. “I’m sorry if I’ve seemed off. I’ve just been trying to make sure everything runs smoothly so you don’t have to carry extra stress. You always say the project’s success depends on both of us.” She leaned in a little closer, her breast brushing his arm through the thin fabric. “I don’t want you worrying about me or the site. Let me handle Vikram. He respects my input. It makes the whole thing easier for everyone.”
Rahul’s expression softened, but the doubt didn’t fully leave his eyes. “I just don’t want you burning out. Or… getting too close to someone like him. He’s older, experienced. These site guys can be rough.”
Priya laughed quietly, the sound light and intimate, and let her fingers drift down to rest on his chest. “Rough? Vikram’s professional. And I’m not some naive girl, Rahul. I know how to handle myself.” She tilted her head, letting her hair fall against his shoulder as she spoke. “If anything, being there late means I come home wanting to be with you. I miss you when I’m stuck on site.” The lie tasted sweet on her tongue because it carried just enough truth to make it believable — and because saying it while her cunt still felt sore from another man’s fingers sent a secret thrill straight through her.
Rahul exhaled, the tension easing from his shoulders under her touch. He turned and kissed her, slow and familiar. She kissed him back, letting it linger, even as her mind drifted to the terrace, to the wind on her bare skin, to the way Vikram had made her beg. When they pulled apart, she rested her forehead against his for a moment.
“Trust me,” she whispered. “I’ve got this.”
He nodded, the doubt still there but quieter now, wrapped in the warmth she had deliberately poured over it. Priya felt the familiar mix inside her chest — a sharp flash of guilt at how easily she could redirect him, followed by a hotter, sharper craving. She wanted more. More risk. More of Vikram’s hands on her where they shouldn’t be. More nights where she came home carrying another man’s cum and lied sweetly to her husband about it.
The next evening she drove to the site later than usual, the sky already turning deep blue over the half-finished towers. Most of the day crew had gone. Only a few security lights glowed. Vikram was waiting on the twelfth-floor terrace, a small bottle of cheap local liquor and a packet of beedis on a stack of plywood.
He didn’t greet her with words. He pulled her in by the waist the moment she stepped through the doorway and kissed her hard, tongue pushing into her mouth like he already owned it. When he broke away, he held up the bottle.
“Rough day on site. Thought we’d take the edge off properly.”
Priya looked at the cheap liquor — the kind labourers drank, not the imported whiskey Rahul kept at home — and felt a fresh pulse of taboo excitement. She had never touched anything like it. Vikram poured a little into a plastic cup and handed it to her.
“Drink.”
She hesitated only a second, then tipped it back. The liquor burned, harsh and sweet at the same time, settling warm in her stomach. He lit a beedi, took a drag, and passed it to her. The thin, acrid smoke filled her lungs. She coughed at first, then tried again. The taste was rough, masculine, completely unlike anything in her polished life. She liked it. The wrongness of it — standing on a luxury project terrace in her designer kurti, smoking a labourer’s beedi and drinking cheap liquor with the man who had fucked her while her husband waited at home — made her cunt throb.
Vikram watched her with dark satisfaction. “You like that, don’t you? The cheap stuff. The real stuff.”
She took another drag, letting the smoke curl from her lips, and nodded. The craving was already stronger than before. She wanted more of this — more edges, more things that would shock the version of herself who kissed Rahul goodnight.
They didn’t wait long.
Vikram backed her against the low pabangt wall again. The terrace was mostly empty now, but voices still drifted from lower floors and the adjacent unit where a couple of late workers were packing tools. The risk was lower than before but still present — anyone could climb the stairs, anyone could look up from the ground far below.
He yanked her kurti up and over her head, unhooked her bra, and pushed her pants down in rough movements. She stood naked from the waist up in the cooling night air, nipples already tight from the wind and anticipation. Vikram freed his cock, thick and hard, and lifted one of her legs to hook over his hip.
“Been thinking about this cunt all day,” he muttered as he pushed into her. The stretch made her gasp. He was rougher tonight, fucking her in deep, steady strokes while the pabangt pressed into her lower back. “You went home to your husband last night still leaking my cum and lied to his face. Didn’t you?”
“Yes,” she breathed, arms around his neck, hips rocking to meet every thrust. The liquor and smoke had loosened something in her. “I told him I was just coordinating. He believed me.”
Vikram groaned and fucked her harder, the wet sound of his cock driving into her cunt loud in the open air. “Good girl. Keep lying for me. Keep coming back here so I can ruin you.” He reached between them and rubbed her clit with his thumb, fast and relentless. “You crave this now, don’t you? The risk. The secret. My cock stretching you while your husband sits at home wondering why you’re late.”
The words pushed her over. She came hard, biting his shoulder to muffle the cry, her pussy clenching and fluttering around him. He kept going, pounding through her orgasm until she was shaking, then pulled out and turned her around, bending her over the low wall again.
This time he took her from behind, one hand fisted in her hair, the other gripping her hip hard enough to leave marks. The city lights glittered below them. A distant car horn floated up. Somewhere below, a worker shouted something to a colleague. Every thrust made her breasts sway, made fresh wetness drip down her thighs.
“Tell me you want more,” he demanded, voice low and rough.
“I want more,” she gasped, pushing back onto his cock. “I want you to fuck me like this again. I want the risk. I want to come home to him carrying your cum.”
Vikram growled and slammed deeper, his pace turning brutal. She came again, legs buckling, only his grip keeping her upright. He followed seconds later, burying himself to the hilt and flooding her cunt with hot pulses of cum. He stayed inside her until the last twitch, then pulled out slowly, letting the mess run down her legs.
They didn’t dress right away.
The last of the labourers had finally gone. The terrace was theirs now — open, dark except for the distant city glow and a single security light from the stairwell. Vikram poured more of the cheap liquor into the plastic cup and handed it to her. She drank it standing naked, the wind cool against her sweat-damp skin. He lit another beedi, took a drag, and passed it over. She accepted it, the paper rough between her fingers, the smoke harsh in her throat. She liked the way it made her feel — raw, slightly dizzy, completely removed from the polished woman who designed luxury apartments.
They sat on a folded tarp spread over the concrete, backs against the pabangt wall, legs stretched out. Naked. The bottle between them. The beedi passing back and forth.
Vikram spoke first, voice quieter now. “You weren’t like this the first time we worked together two years ago. You were careful. Professional. Married. What changed?”
Priya took a slow drag, letting the smoke linger before exhaling into the night. “I don’t know. Maybe nothing changed. Maybe it was always there and I just… didn’t let myself feel it.” She passed the beedi back. “Rahul is good to me. Steady. He trusts me completely. That used to feel safe. Now it feels like… space. Space I can fill with this.” She gestured vaguely at the terrace, at their naked bodies, at him. “With you.”
Vikram took a sip of the liquor straight from the bottle. “And what do you think he’d do if he found out? Not about the mistake. About this. About you letting me fuck you on his project while he waits at home.”
She was quiet for a moment, staring out at the scattered lights of other towers under construction. “He’d be devastated. Not just angry. He’d feel betrayed in that quiet way he has. Like I broke something he thought was solid. And part of me hates that I could do that to him.” She looked at Vikram. “But another part of me… the part that’s here right now… likes knowing I can. Likes the power of the secret. Likes coming home and lying to his face while your cum is still inside me.”
Vikram reached over and brushed his knuckles along the inside of her thigh, casual and possessive. “You’re not the first married woman who’s gotten off on this. But you’re one of the ones who might actually lean into it. Most of them feel guilty and stop. You feel guilty and come back for more.”
Priya laughed softly, the sound carrying a little edge. “I do feel guilty. When I’m with him, when he touches me, I think about how I let you use me. But then I come here and the guilt turns into something else. Something hotter.” She took the bottle from him and drank. “I want more of it. More nights like this. More places where we could get caught. I want to see how far I can push it before something breaks.”
Vikram studied her in the dim light. “Careful what you ask for. Once you start craving the edge, it gets harder to go back to safe.”
“I know,” she said simply. “That’s why I’m here.”
They sat in silence for a while, passing the beedi and the bottle. The night air cooled their skin. Somewhere far below, a lone motorbike engine revved and faded. Priya felt loose and open in a way she hadn’t in years — naked on a construction terrace with a man who wasn’t her husband, the cheap liquor warm in her veins, the beedi smoke still in her lungs.
Her phone buzzed on top of her discarded clothes. Rahul’s name lit up the screen.
Vikram picked it up before she could reach for it. He held it out to her. “Answer it.”
Priya’s stomach tightened. “Now?”
“Now,” he said. His voice left no room. “Tell him you’ll be late. Tell him whatever you need to tell him.” He poured a little of the liquor onto her bare breasts, the cold liquid running over her nipples and down her stomach. Then he leaned in and licked it off slowly, tongue dragging across her skin, sucking one nipple into his mouth.
The phone kept buzzing. Priya’s heart pounded as she answered, trying to keep her voice steady.
“Hello?”
“Priya? It’s getting late again. Everything okay?” Rahul’s voice was concerned, familiar.
Vikram’s tongue circled her nipple, then sucked harder. She bit the inside of her cheek.
“I’m still at the site,” she managed. “Vikram wanted to go over some last-minute changes to the terrace drainage before the weekend. It’s taking longer than I thought.”
Vikram poured more liquor, letting it drip between her breasts this time, and licked it up in long, slow strokes, his stubble scbanging her skin. She had to press her thighs together to stay quiet.
“You sound a little out of breath,” Rahul said. “Are you sure you’re alright?”
Priya closed her eyes, one hand gripping the edge of the tarp while Vikram’s mouth moved lower, licking a trail down her stomach. “I’m fine. It’s just… dusty up here. And I’ve been moving things around. I’ll be home in an hour or so. Don’t wait up if you’re tired.”
There was a pause on the other end. “Alright. Just… be careful, okay? And text me when you’re leaving.”
“I will,” she said, her voice softer now, the same manipulative warmth she had used on him in the kitchen. “I love you. Go to sleep. I’ll see you soon.”
She ended the call quickly. The moment the screen went dark, a low moan escaped her. Vikram had poured more liquor and was sucking it from the soft skin just above her cunt, his tongue dangerously close to where she was already wet again.
“You’re getting good at that,” he murmured against her skin. “Lying to him while I’m tasting you.”
Priya dropped the phone and pulled his head up, kissing him hard, tasting the cheap liquor on his tongue. The guilt was there — sharp and present — but it was already being swallowed by the hotter, stronger craving. She wanted more nights like this. More lies that tasted like smoke and liquor and another man’s mouth on her body.
Vikram pushed her onto her back on the tarp and settled between her legs again. This time he took his time, fucking her slow and deep while the empty terrace stretched around them and the city lights watched from a distance. She came twice more before he finished inside her, and when they finally dressed and walked down to their cars, the beedi packet was half-empty and the bottle was nearly gone.
Priya drove home with the taste of cheap liquor and smoke still on her tongue, Vikram’s cum leaking into her panties, and the memory of Rahul’s worried voice in her ear while another man licked alcohol from her breasts.
She was already wondering how she could arrange to stay even later tomorrow.