Sweet 'n' Sour | ✔

forty-two

42. ang se ang lagale (connect your body with mine)

warning// sexual content ahead.

•°•

Last night was without a doubt bliss. I didn't get my release but watching her writhing beneath me, clinging to my shoulders like she can't bear any distance apart, made my chest swell with pride. To watch the always so poised and graceful woman turn into a shameless wanton only for you was mesmerizing. I couldn't get enough of her, her moans, those breathless whimpers, the way she chased my lips to silence hers, the scratches on my back, and the way she tried to lock her legs around my hips, trying to keep us connected, it was all absolutely breathtaking.

I had never seen her like that before, and it made me realise I was missing out on so many things when it comes to pleasure and intimacy.

Seeing her neediness last night, I can't wait to explore different ways to make sex more enjoyable. I'm still not confident about getting down to the main action, I can't bear to see the disappointment on her face. So unless we both are prepared for it, we'll rather give different things a try.

The next morning, Priya was quite bashful. But the way she had provocatively worn her saree, with a sleeveless blouse that exposed more of her back, and the pleats clinging low on her hips were enough signs that she wanted me more than ever.

I beckoned her closer after a shower and she stepped into my arms with a soft smile. Her dusky skin had flushed faint red, her breath elevated, and her eyes clouded with lust.

This time there was no hesitation, no shyness when I undressed her in the broad daylight, only the desire swam in those beautiful brown pools. I shifted her diagonally on the bed, so the sun streaming from the windows doesn't dare steal glances at my wife.

I covered her lithe form with my bare back, my lips seeking the faded red bruises scattered on her skin, redrawing them with my teeth and soaking them wet with the gentle brushes of my tongue. She sighed helplessly, hands clutching my shoulders, slithering like a snake around my back and dropping low to my torso. One of my hands cupped her neck, burying her face in my shoulder as the other drew a map down her curves, learning the highs and lows, re-tracing the same direction from the last night and taking a familiar path down her stomach to reach their destination. She opened the doors for me, embracing my hand with a welcoming moan, sighing breathlessly when my fingers buried deep inside her, curling to hit the spot that had her crying in pleasure.

I swallowed the sound, worshipping her with my tongue, exploring all the corners of her mouth like a devoted disciple of her body.

"More," she demanded hoarsely.

I obeyed wordlessly, slipping another digit into her, the pad of my thumb rubbing and tweaking the nub hidden between her folds. She buried her face in the nook of my neck, drowning into me like we were one body two souls, but then she resurfaced again, as though I was stealing her breath and she needed more.

I reciprocated her passion with my kisses, painting them along the lines of her body, down the curves and over the slopes, on the rise of her mounds, and below the surface of her spine. She reacted each time, mewling sweetly, stretching her body like a feline, and demanding more.

I had no qualms extinguishing the fire burning inside her. But the twitching in my pants added to the discomfort, watching her want me, need me so brazenly, I was going to burst anytime. So when I placed her hand on me out of desperation, she gasped, her body freezing instantly.

"Please," I whispered, my fingers still soaking in her warmth, wet, sticky, but her legs did not separate to let me go, they only sucked in more, as though my fingers were a part of their body, not to be detached ever again.