I moan as his tongue flicks across my vagina, going back and forth, teasing me open before moving inside me. When he pulls out, my nails dig into his arms.
‘Please,’ I beg.
‘Jaan,’ he cajoles, his passion naked.
What has Ved just called me?Jaan. I feel my heart expand exponentially, balloon-like; my eyes are tearing up.
‘I’m in love with you,’ he says. ‘I feel so full in this emotion that I don’t think I could love you any more than I love you at this point. It is beyond anything I have ever felt in my life. I’m not sure it’s a good thing in my position, but there’s not a thing I can do to stop how I feel for you.’
I pull Ved down on me, throw my arms around his neck and listen to his heartbeat.
When he finally lies over me, length over length, our bodies meeting and moving almost instantly, my hips rising to envelop his thrust, it feels like a door we’ve both been waiting to walk through has opened.
There’s a wildness to the movement. He’s reaching further and further; he is deep, deep inside me when I hear myself call out, ‘Ved… Veeed… Vee... eed…’
The night is still, and my voice echoes.
We move together like we’ve been holding our breath for weeks and have finally remembered how to exhale. It is tender, even a little shy, yet powered by the currents of the emotional tide we are wading into – it’s the duality that makes it more real. More us.
I feel the hesitation, the hope, the unsung notes that press into that one lingering moment. And just like that, something shifts between us and explodes inside me, and I cry into the night.
It’s just us – two humans, from worlds so apart you can’t help but wonder how they may ever be bridged. Still, the only sensations are those of breath and skin and something that feels like an emotion that could stretch to infinity.
My parents don’t know where I am, nor do Alia and Lavanya, but no one needs to know, because I’m home.
In this time we have together, I forget the weight of who we are – the Coffee Queen, the daughter of a senior politician, and the crown prince. There’s no palace, no headlines, no eyes watching us from behind heavy curtains. Just he and me, his lips on my cheek and the strange, aching beauty of being completed in this togetherness.
I smile against his mouth, tasting relief, nerves and the beginning of something neither of us has the words for yet.
‘I love you, Aaditha,’ he says, trying to steady his ragged breath. The space between us has slowly melted – layer by layer, kiss by kiss.
My heartbeat knocks on my ears, louder than the city outside.
‘I love you, Ved,’ I reply as his fingers stroke my naked leg, pressing against the inside of my thigh.
Later, in the hush that follows, I realize it isn’t fireworks; it is something quieter and softer, but it is everything. It is where I feel safe. Wanted. Loved – not for the version of me people imagine but for the girl I am underneath it all. The girl who fled to Ohio and returned with a dream, a girl who was burned by love but is now inhaling it and twirling around in it like it were a dress that has given her room to move.
When I open my eyes, I’m naked under a sheet and Ved’s leg is over mine.
‘Jaan,’ he calls, sensing I have opened my eyes. ‘This is how I want to wake up every morning of my life.’
I reach up and place a kiss on his lips. ‘Have we kissed before? If we have, I have no recollection.’
I hear Vedveer’s moan as he rolls me over him and pulls me up against his erection. ‘I’m good with reminders, and prompts, too,’ he says.
TittleTattle
North Meets South: Inside the Wedding of the Year
The coming together of Prince Vedveer and Aaditha Prathap is more than a synergy of cultures; it’s the rumba of contrasting, often colliding worlds. None of which seems to have got in the way of this darling twosome.
A love story for the ages played out before high-powered guests at the brilliantly lit Ranibagh Palace last weekend.
The toothsome Rajput Prince Vedveer Rathore Singh and Aaditha Asha Prathap – the sparky Coffee Queen – tied the knot, following week-long celebrations that culminated in the holy ritual where they were pronounced man and wife. An array of ceremonies honoured both cultures, highlighting the union of families and communities from different corners of the country, with the abiding message of togetherness. Live, and let love grow.
TT was inside the wedding and the reception that followed the next evening, but before we drool about those gorgeous, scrumptious affairs, we wanted to tell you that almost every attendee was a known name.
There are big-ticket weddings that go on and on, and then there are those unions with moments for which time seems to slow down. The heart is racing, but everything around is moving perfectly slowly – fragrant orchid trees, in shades from purple to light pink, hold firm despite the flush of the winter breeze; the bride and groom locking eyes, communicating silently, but the soundless exchange isaudible across the room. The Prince’s adoring look at his glowing bride while adjusting hermaang tikkaadorned with an uncut pink diamond.
