The Charade

44| 𝕽𝖆𝖆𝖟

(❗️Warning: This is a work of fiction, a product of pure imagination. Any resemblance to real-life events, people, or situations is entirely coincidental.❗️)

AUTHOR'S POV

Away from the shore, a majestic cruise sailed in all its glory. The large, bold 'A' at its helm indicated to even the barely present birds that this vessel belonged to the Agnihotris.

There were two birds, in the sky, with their wings spread flying over the water body.

What surprised these birds was the sight of two souls making love under the open sky. Their deep breaths, moans, and grunts were quiet, almost drowned by the sound of the waves, but the birds could see everything with their sharp eyes.

The woman was tangled beneath him, wrapped in the sheets, as he thrust into her in a slow, torturous rhythm. They were both sweating, despite the cold air kissing their skin through the ocean air.

His lips kissed every inch of her skin, leaving no part untouched, while her hands roamed his body, urging him deeper into her. His back, scratched and scarred from her nails, looked like a canvas of art. Marks from past fucks had not yet healed, and some had left scars-forever.

Like sex maniacs, they continued their deed until the birds' attention was drawn elsewhere. One bird blinked as another's wing gently brushed across its eyes, as if to say, "Close them, this is not for us to see."

But it wasn't the birds' fault, was it? The sky was their home, and these two humans were invading their territory, performing their act under their domain.

Their domain?

A sharp, silenced gunshot echoed through the air, too quiet to disturb the lovers below but lethal for the two friends.

Another gunshot.

The birds fell into the ocean, lifeless, their bodies swallowed by the waiting mouths of sharks, who had been circling beneath, ready for their next meal.

It was not the birds' domain.

Not anyone's.

Except.

"Good?" he asked in a low voice, slipping his shirt over her shoulders as she lay, spent. She glanced at him from the corner of her eye as he moved to dress himself.

They weren't sure when their sitting together had turned into making love in the open. Maybe when she kissed his jaw, or maybe when he pecked at the corner of her shoulder, or maybe when she shifted on his lap or when he grabbed her arsecheeks, or when she moaned or when he spanked her tits, or when he made her top naked and sucked her tits, or.... She could not remember it.

After their deed he guided her to the shower, as royal as the cruise itself. To his surprise, she didn't stop him from washing her.

She let him.

He concluded it must have been the shock from the attack at the office. So, he rinsed her skin with care, a contrast to his earlier rough, deep, manly touch before the shower.

She sat quietly in the bathtub, watching him with admiration. When he moved to leave, she reached for his hand, her touch sending butterflies through him. He couldn't deny it-he had been feeling this since he first saw her, every time he did.

He settled beside her, pressing her gently against his chest. They remained silent, but this silence wasn't as haunting as it used to be.

"Mr. Agnihotri," she muttered, blinking away memories of how tenderly he had cared for her earlier.