Karan’s response is immediate; his fingers dig even deeper into the skin of my ass, and he rewards my vocal demand with a long swipe of his tongue, sending goosebumps across every inch of my body.
“Oh my God,” I gasp, gripping his hair for dear life.
“That’s not my name.” He looks up at me and slips two fingers inside me, the gentle stretching makes me see stars.
“Karan, please!”
With an animalistic groan, he presses his tongue against me again, continuing to stroke me gently with his fingers. The sensations build up at the base of my spine, in the muscle of my thighs, and right at my center.
Karan makes right on this promise, his tongue flicking and lapping expertly in all the right places. Right now, everything else—his job, his family, the despair I’ve been feeling around our future—falls away, scattering to the ether like dust. There’s only room for him, the delicious friction of his beard, his fingers and tongue pulling ragged gasps and moans from my throat.
A pressure builds up not only at my core, but in my heart, too, as it swells and fills like I didn’t think was possible anymore. When I’m right along the edge, everything in me tenses, and just as I knew he would, Karan reads me like an open book and begins to slow down his movements, opting to give me slow, deep thrusts of his fingers as he sucks down on my clit.
It’s exactly what I need, and I fall.
I fall, without an ounce of fear in me, the freedom of the flight spreading through my body in waves of ecstasy. Karan’s moans vibrate against my center, and I hold on to that as I ride the fall. For a brief moment in time, I am nothing but light, soaring across the sky, held safely by Karan’s reverent touch.
I don’t realize Karan has stopped moving and is now cradling me until he whispers in my ear. “You did so good, baby.”
When I come to, we’re both on the floor, my knees having buckled from my release.
I still can’t feel my toes.
“Holy shit,” I whisper, my voice hoarse.
I must have been screaming by the end.
My legs are still shaking, so I wrap my arms around Karan’s neck and bury my face in his chest, inhaling his scent as I attempt to catch my breath.
Karan strokes my hair, his caresses so gentle that he doesn’t seem like the same man he was a few minutes ago. The man who nearly slammed me against the wall and possessed my mouth like he would die if he couldn’t have me.
This doesn’t fix everything. Of course it doesn’t. But it feels so fucking good to be close to him like this. And to have him actively doing something to keep me in his vicinity.
The desire he lit in my belly isn’t gone. The scent of him is intoxicating, and I grip onto his shirt, trying to pull it up to reveal the skin underneath. Confronted with his bare chest—so large, soft, yet strong, and covered with thick black hair I want to lose myself in—my breath hitches before I press my lips to him.
“Rachel.” Karan groans as he grabs onto my shoulder to stop my movements. “Baby. We’re not doing that tonight.”
“What?” I look up at him and see the desire reflected in his eyes.
Fuck, it’s hot to see him at my mercy like this, so why won’t he let me reciprocate?
“This was just for you.” He strokes my jaw with his thumb and gives me a small smile. “You deserve it.”
“But…” My gaze looks him up and down, and I bite my lip. “Karan, I want to.”
One corner of his lips turns up. “You’ll just have to wait.”
He stands, helping me up along with him, and to my chagrin, the fabric of his shirt falls back down with our movements.
“I think the onion soup should be cool enough to eat by now.”
“Really?” I cross my arms and pout. “You want to go straight back to dinner? And leave you like this?”
I point to the very obvious bulge in his pants.
Karan scoops my neck with one hand and kisses my forehead. “I’m sure you’re starving.”
I am… but not for soup.
