𝐁𝐎𝐎𝐊 𝟏: 𝐉𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐲 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐋𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐓𝐎 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄
.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.
"What?" she said, she couldn't believe her ears, that her Kabir ji would say something like that when he had been showering his whole life at her feet.
"Kabir ji, if it's abo...
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The office clock mocked Kabir with its bright red second hand ticking its way to five. Every beat felt like a hammer blow to his already frayed nerves. It was the last day of a particularly tedious project, and the lack of physical intimacy with Aisha pushed him to the edge. He yearned for the calming touch, the warmth of her presence, anything to quell the simmering frustration that had him dispensing pink slips like confetti.
At home, Aisha was engrossed in a book when Aarav, Kabir's younger brother, called in a panicked voice. "Bhabhi," he sputtered, "Please call bhai and calm him down! He's fired 25 people since morning, yelling at everyone – the office is a mess, and everyone's scared out of their wits!"
Aisha, ever the calming influence, soothed Aarav and promised to intervene. Kabir, sensing his phone vibrate, answered on the first ring. His voice, usually warm and playful, was laced with a barely contained irritation. "Bolo," he barked, the frustration from his touch deprivation manifesting as a short temper.
(Speak)
"Kabir ji, ye aap kya kar rahe hain?" (Kabir, what are you doing?) Aisha's concern was palpable through the phone. "Thoda shaant ho jaye" (Please calm down a little)."
Kabir's already taut muscles coiled further. "Who the hell complained to my wife?!" he bellowed, not into the phone, but at his hapless employees, oblivious to the misplaced outburst.
Aisha used to his occasional bouts of work stress, tried a gentler approach. "Shant ho jayiye, aap (Please calm down)," she soothed. "Kisi ne kuch complain nahi kari hai, (Nobody complained). Aap ghar aa jaiye (Just come home), it's almost six."
Kabir practically burst through the front door, the groan of the hinges a welcome melody after what felt like an eternity. He snatched a glance at his wrist, a surge of relief washing over him as he saw the luminous hands glowing 6:10. "Fucking finally," he muttered under his breath, the adrenaline of the day slowly ebbing away.
His eyes scanned the living room, empty. Panic, a cold twist in his gut, threatened to rise. Then, a soft clinking sound drew him towards the dining room. There, bathed in the warm glow of the overhead lamp, stood Aisha. The sight of her, draped in a creamy nude colored saree that clung to her curves in a way that always stole his breath away, made him forget his momentary worry. She was leaning against the counter, a half-eaten slice of cake on a plate beside a glass of ruby red juice. Her hair, usually pulled back in a practical bun, cascaded down her shoulders in a cascade of ebony waves. Fucking dreamy, he thought, the words a silent prayer.
In three long strides, he was by her side, arms wrapping possessively around her waist. He lifted her effortlessly, ignoring her surprised yelp, and held her close, bridal style. "Kabir ji, kya kar rahe hai?" Aisha laughed, a hint of breathlessness in her voice. "Koi dekh lega!"
(Kabir, what are you doing, someone will see!)
"Shh" he shushed her up and opened the door and put her on bed, while removing his shirt, and hovering over her, he started kissing her neck ferociously. He removed one side of the blouse and bit a harsh bite.
