Guilty Pleasures

39

"Hate is a disease: an edge to a sword that cannot be reversed once driven in; but hating the one your heart has pledged to love feels like nothing more than a double edged sword. Killing you and him simultaneously..."

Raghav had been waiting impatiently for her call for bleeding hours; his phone staring him blankly in the face. He could distantly still hear Keerti's words playing in the depths of his mind as he continued his workout pushing his weight up whilst his fiery eyes lay attached to the phone that had been placed in front of him. Sweat had been pouring down his physique giving him this almost vulgarity and rawness to the masculinity he was prone to channel. An image of female fantasy epitomised.

And finally with a sharp ring breaking through his thoughts he jumped out of the push-up position; leaning down to grab his phone a smirk playing at the edge of his features as he accepted the call.

"Yes Sari Ka Dukaan?"

"Can you meet me some distance away from the hospital? Just slightly after it by the war statue."

"I'm on my way."

He had disconnected the call; and begun his trek towards the woman who's soul his had been tied to by fate; his fingertips rapped at the steering wheel; his eyes watching the traffic haphazardly as his hand moved slightly to the centre of the wheel, his other resting just below the window so his head could be rested in his hand; this overwhelming sense of guilt that he had been pushing away was festering with the thoughts of her; the thought of her tear filled eyes; the accusations that lay threaded within them had been haunting him more than her felt absence within his sheets.

He knew his game was selfish; that in midst of wanting to obtain his family's love and acceptance he had destroyed hers; but Raghav had to continuously remind himself of the vile nature he believed she possessed; of the mind games he had deluded himself to believe were their reality.

A heavy sigh seemed to escape his lips, the breath leaving him torturously as he moved his hand to force the car into a higher gear; his foot applying more pressure to the accelerator.

He had pulled up moments later; his eyes catching sight of her hourglass figure dressed in the light blue sari he had taken off her body the night of his accident; the night where neither of them spoke a word but allowed the feelings; the lust, the pleasure and the unspoken to fester; to be felt instead of ignored.

He could still remember her hooded gaze as she had rocked her hips into his. He could still remember the way in which her breasts seemed to move with the momentum of her movement and he remembered leaning up to litter his mark from her neck all the way down to her chest.

He could remember how his fingers had tangled into the very hair that was blowing in the wind to taunt him; the smell of strawberry had greeted him that night and he couldn't help but wonder if the same scent would come to sneer at him this time too.

He had forced his eyes closed in attempt to rid himself of those torturous thoughts yet all his mind seemed to display in its abyss was that night; the way she had planted a kiss to his forehead; mumbling words that he couldn't make out over the pain medication that made his eyes and head respectively hazy.

He could still faintly feel the way her hands glided over his body; down the trail of abs; against his chiselled jaw line; before tangling with the soft curls of his hair; her grip soft as she seemed to massage his temple gently.

That night whilst it had been sex in its act; felt like making love: and was because she was in control. It was because he had let her take the rhythm of their passion the way she had desired; and he should have known from that point where she stood with him.