To Be Continued...

FIFTY TWO

I sat at my laptop, my heart pounding with a mix of hope and anxiety. My phone was broken, leaving me cut off from Nicolas. The only lifeline left was Discord, and I desperately hoped it would work. When I finally managed to log in, I was flooded with relief at seeing Nicolas’s face on the screen.

“Harini, I thought I’d lost you,” Nicolas said, his voice laced with worry. “Your dad—”

“I know,” I interrupted, my voice trembling. “I’m so sorry. I couldn’t get a new phone, but I’m here now.”

Nicolas exhaled deeply, his concern palpable. “It’s okay. We’ve got to find a way to make this work. I’m giving you my number. Memorize it. You can call me from any phone if you need to.”

The gesture meant everything to me. I quickly noted down his number, feeling a rush of relief. The connection with him, even through a screen, was more comforting than I’d realized.

That day, I decided to skip classes. There was no one home, and Nicolas and I spent the day reconnecting. The two-day separation had felt like an eternity, and the emotions hit us hard. We cried together at first, the tears flowing freely as we talked about everything we’d missed.

Slowly, as we found our footing again, the familiar intimacy began to resurface. I asked Nicolas to start the chat, and he did so with a tenderness that sent shivers down my spine.

He began by describing how he would kiss me on the forehead and eyes, his voice soothing and affectionate. “I’d drink up your tears and then reach your neck,” he murmured. “I’d lick it all, placing endless kisses until you were completely drenched with desire.”

I could almost feel his touch through his words, a warm flush spreading across my body. My breathing quickened as he continued, painting vivid images of his lips traveling down from my neck to my tummy. “I’d suck your tummy into my mouth, making small bites,” he said, his voice low and heated.

The intensity of his words was almost overwhelming. When he asked, “Can I remove your top?” I nodded, my pulse racing. Despite knowing it was all happening over the chat, it felt achingly real.

He continued, describing how he would admire me and wrap me in a towel, leading me to the washroom. “We’d sit in the bathtub, separated only by the towel,” he said, his tone almost reverent.

“Can I remove the towel too?” he asked.

I nodded again, my heart pounding. As the towel slipped away, he described how he would touch my breasts, big and shiny, with both of his hands. “I’d place a kiss right in the middle,” he said, his words making me shiver.

I whispered, “You’re going too fast.”

I wanted everything he was describing, but I also wanted to savor it. The silence that followed was almost unbearable, so I encouraged him to continue.

He pressed my breasts and took my nipples into his mouth, sucking gently as his other hand traveled down to my vagina. His words were a potent mix of desire and promise. “I want to fuck you, Harini. I want to fuck you hard. I will fuck you after our marriage.”

The intensity of his words left me breathless. It felt as though every boundary we’d set had been crossed, yet the connection between us was more profound than ever.