“Don’t…” I managed, voice trembling. “Don’t stop.”
He tightened his hold on me in response, a soft, almost relieved sound escaping his throat. For a moment, we lingered there—his hand resting on my thigh, mine gripping the arm he had wrapped around my waist.
His lips trailed up my neck in gentle, open-mouthed kisses, each one lighting a spark behind my eyelids. My breath spiked when he started tracing invisible patterns on my bare skin. In the mirror’s reflection, I caught the way his lashes lowered, the way his expression seemed both intent and reverent, like he couldn’t quite believe he was allowed this closeness. Slowly, so carefully, his hand slid up my torso, skimming the lace that barely covered my midsection. My skin heated under his touch, and I let out a trembling exhale.
He shifted his stance, pressing himself against my back for support as his hand continued its delicate journey. My fingers found his free hand, interlacing with it and holding tight. Another subtle movement, and I felt him gently push aside the edge of lace near my hip.
Every motion was slow and deliberate, as though he was giving me every chance to change my mind. But I didn’t want to. My head fell back against his shoulder, and I couldfeel his breath catch again when I whispered his name—just his name, softly, a plea or a prayer. Maybe both.
In response, his lips found the spot at the junction of my neck and shoulder, nibbling faintly before leaving a tender kiss. My chest rose and fell with shallow breaths as he nudged my hair aside.
The mirror reflected every shift in our expressions—mine, full of tentative wonder, and his, a mixture of reverence and restraint. We were in uncharted territory, and yet it felt strangely right.
His thumb found that sensitive spot with maddening precision, stroking slow, deliberate circles that set my entire body ablaze. My breath hitched, my legs trembling as I felt myself melting beneath his touch, the slick heat only intensifying with every movement of his hand.
“You’re so… fucking beautiful,” he murmured, his voice hoarse with restraint, his words sending a fresh wave of heat surging through me. He paused for a heartbeat, as if to collect himself, his throat working as he swallowed hard.
Then, without missing a beat, his fingers slipped deeper, stroking me with a mastery that left me gasping. My body arched instinctively, my hands gripping his shoulders for support, as he skillfully unraveled me, inch by inch. His dark, hungry gaze never wavered from mine, watching every reaction, every shiver, every breathless moan.
A startled gasp left my lips as my eyes fluttered shut. “Manav…”
He chuckled softly as he kissed along my shoulder, his lips leaving a trail of heat in their wake. “Keep saying my name like that, and I might lose control,” though his voice carried no intent of stopping.
I couldn’t look away from the mirror—the sight of him worshipping me, his passion and intensity reflectedin me. I never wanted it to end.
His lips brushed against my temple, his breath hot and deliberate, as he whispered again, “Tell me, baby. What do you want?” His voice was thick with restraint, laced with the hunger he was barely holding back.
“I need to…” I exhaled, my voice trembling, raw with desperation. “ Please, don’t stop.”
Manav’s low growl vibrated against my skin, making me shiver. “Good girl.” His thumb resumed its deliberate, maddening rhythm, coaxing me closer to the edge with every precise movement.
“Let go for me,” he whispered, his lips grazing the shell of my ear, his breath hot and electrifying. “I’ve got you.”
My body obeyed before my mind could catch up, waves of pleasure crashing over me, pulling me under. He didn’t stop, his fingers skillfully prolonging the intensity, drawing out every ounce of pleasure until I was completely undone, trembling and breathless in his arms.
As the aftershocks subsided, I collapsed against his chest, my heart pounding like a wild drum. He pressed a gentle kiss to my temple, as though I’d just given him something sacred.
Panting against his chest, I clung to him for stability while he held me tightly, not once letting go. My limbs felt boneless, my eyes too heavy to open.
He scooped me into his arms with a quiet gentleness I hadn’t expected in the aftermath of something so intense. My mind felt hazy, my legs were weak, and my heart thudded against my chest like it might never slow down. With careful steps, he carried me to the bed and laid me down, brushing a stray strand of hair from my face.
For a moment, neither of us spoke; the only sounds in the room were our uneven breathing and the muffled rushof blood in my ears. I blinked up at him, still caught in that surreal haze. He looked back at me, something soft and unreadable glinting in his eyes—like awe. Or maybe something deeper.
“You okay?” He asked softly.
I nodded, exhaling a shuddering breath. My body was still buzzing, every nerve on high alert, but there was a warmth—both physical and emotional—that made me feel safe. He grazed the back of his hand along my cheek. “Stay here,” he said gently. “I’ll get water.”
I didn’t have the energy to argue. My muscles felt like jelly, and my heart still hammered from the string of overwhelming sensations. I closed my eyes and listened to his footsteps fade—only to return moments later. When I opened them again, he was at my side, pressing a cool glass into my hands.
“Drink.” His free hand supported mine so I wouldn’t drop it. I obeyed, taking a few sips. He settled on the edge of the bed, watching me as I drank from the glass.
I let my eyes slide shut again, sinking into the bed, and felt him shift closer, one arm slipping under the pillows behind me. Eventually, my racing heart began to calm. The adrenaline ebbed, replaced by a tranquil fatigue. As I drifted toward sleep, I vaguely registered him pressing another gentle kiss against my temple.
____________
‘I am in the kitchen…’
I found the note on my pillow when I opened my eyes. Sunlight poured into the room, warming everything in its golden glow. I felt more rested than I had in weeks—no, months.
