Her lips twisted. “I wanted them to keep for our home videos.”
He chuckled, grabbing her jaw and pasting his mouth over hers. She opened her mouth, letting him kiss her, letting his body push her until the back of her knees hit the bed.
“What were you doing?” He pushed his nose into her neck and took a deep whiff.
“Lotion ritual.”
“Allow me, Raje.”
Avantika felt electricity zing down her spine.
“One leg is done.”
“Then one is remaining,” he sat her down on the bed and kneeled in front of her. His hand took hold of her ankle and placed it on his knee, pushing her back and open for him. Samarth’s eyes zeroed in on the V of her legs, covered in her night silk shorts. He ran a hand up her thigh to the hem of her shorts, then back — “I have dreamt about you in these shorts and this top since you described it to me.”
‘When did I describe it to you?”
He grabbed her lotion and squeezed more than a generous dollop on his palm. His head rose and that naughty smirk touched his eyes — “Once during a late night call. You were saying that it’s cooler in Paris but not as cold as to ditch these shorts and your spaghetti,” he rubbed his hands together, slowly, leisurely warming the lotion.
“You have been perving behind me forthatlong?” She took her foot to his shoulder and toed him back. He went like an obedient slave, turning his mouth and kissing her toe. “Longer.”
“What happened to staying away this weekend?”
“Could I manage?” He laughed self-deprecatingly, touching his warm lotion-clad hand to her calf. She stilled.
Samarth held her foot on his shoulder and ran the lotion up her calf, round and round her knees, down to that ticklish spot behind her knees, then up her thigh. Her breath turned shallower, faster.
“Samarth, don’t do more if you are not planning to stay.”
“Do you want me to stay, Raje?” He nuzzled her ankle, leaving a kiss there.
“Won’t they miss you at the party?”
“I am a good boy. Early to bed. What about you?” He took his mouth up, up, up, to the hem of her shorts. His fingers hooked into the waistband of her shorts, eyes weaving into hers for permission. That stray lock of hair again fell on his forehead and she pushed it back with her fingers.
“They think I am down with a cold.”
“Are you?”
“Not if you do your job well.”
The next thing she knew her shorts were snatched away from her body. She gasped, unable to tell him that there was no barrier left. His mouth dropped open.
“Samarth if you don’t want to…”
He pushed her bodily down on the bed and climbed in between her legs, his mouth on her. Bare. There. Completely.
“Oh fuck! Sa…” she bucked into half. His hand splayed over her chest and pushed her back, holding her flat down. Her hips writhed, circled, bucked, pleaded. He held her down in entirety and continued his assault, his tongue going deeper than his clothed hips or fingers ever had.
“Samarth, it’s too fast… it’s happening…”
“Come!” He commanded in vibrations over her battered flesh and she came. Spiralling into nothing.
When she opened her eyes he was over her, hair falling all over his forehead, face falling over hers.
“Marry me.”
Her faint breaths went silent.