The journey of two people that have had everything laid in their feet since they were kids, except for the one thing they wanted.
Freedom.
In the society of the rich, you either keep the appearance or the passion. With lives put on crossroads, and...
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I honestly love dressing up. I always have. Part of the reason why I chose fashion designing as a degree. Not that I do anything with it. But anyway. Dressing up is still a fun thing for me to do. I don't go out often. No one stops me but I am not a person who will run out on the first chance to roam around. I like being in the house. Just not alone but whatever. We can't always have what we want.
I stand in our closet, in front of the mirror trying to put on a perfect wing liner in a matching bra and panties set. It's easier this way and I can avoid getting makeup on my clothes. Since the day, rather night in the wooden cabin a week ago, It's been easier for me to get naked infront of my husband. That little awkwardness that comes with arranged marriage is slowly leaving me from it's clutches. I finally get the liner perfect after several minutes of trying. My makeup is almost done, save for the lipstick. I move towards my dress that hangs on the door to the closet.
It's a rich business people party that we are to attend. And the theme of the party is Dark seduction. It'll be weird to watch my parents dressed according to the theme but it is what it is. My eyes fall over the coat hanging next to my dress. It's for Shivansh. I pull it off of it's hanger and pull it over myself. The sleeves are way too long for me, just as I assumed and the padded shoulders too broad on my frame. But none of that bothers me. It's his and I love it on me.
"The only reason I love coming back home now." I turn to my right at the voice. My husband leans against the door, his shirt sleeves rolled up, his glasses perched and his hair slightly messy. Perfection. I take his jacket off and put it back, embarrassed that he caught me like this until I realize what I have underneath isn't helping my situation. He gazes at me leisurely, his lips tilting slightly. Ofcourse. He is having a field day, isn't he? I'll have one too if he takes that shirt off.
He walks inside and his fingers wrap around my throat to push me back against the nearest wall. His lips are on mine the very next instant. We've kissed plenty of times over the week, and I've concluded that my husband is a rough kisser. That's how he likes it and so do I. He goes soft at times but the kisses that drip down with a primal need are my favorite. Just like this one. His fingers tighten around my throat and my mind turns hazy.
I almost missed when he kept his knee between my legs and rubbed me from over the lace. I moan into his mouth, clutching his hair in my fists. His other hand skims over my stomach, going to trace my nipple that have pebbled under my bra. I pull slightly away to mumble over his lips. "We have somewhere to be in an hour husband." He groans lightly but we can't be late. Everyone expects us there and on time. He pulls away but I keep my hold on is hair to pull him closer for another short kiss. "But I don't see why we can't continue it after we come back." His eyes shine like crystals at my words.
"Now if you don't follow up with your own promise and leave me hanging, I'll make sure you don't walk for the next few days darling. And I am very serious." I bet he is. Over the course of the week we've had been more intimate in our relationship. And I realized the first time was him being merciful. He can fuck my world up if he wanted to. I blow him a kiss in return which he receives with a chuckle. A slap lands on my breast as he winks at me. "Get dressed darling."
