𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞 ( 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐎𝐧𝐞 )

Warning ⚠️

This prologue contains mature (18+) content intended for adult readers only. If you enjoyed, please leave a vote and drop a comment—your support means everything and keeps this story going.

Thank you my lovely lilies ❤️.

AUTHOR'S POV

The air was thick with perfume, laughter, and the echo of clinking glasses. Inside the opulent beachside villa, the bachelorette party was in full swing—chaotic, glamorous, and shimmering with celebration. It was Ridhaan Malhotra’s last night as a bachelor, and every corner pulsed with music and mischief.

Aarohi Mehra stood quietly at the edge of the room, near the glass windows, wrapped in a deep maroon designer saree that clung to her curves like second skin—its sheer pallu sliding off her shoulder, shimmering with delicate sequins that made her look every bit the temptation she never meant to be.

But she hadn’t worn it for anyone else.

Her gaze, unwilling but restless, drifted to him again.

Vihaan Malhotra.

CFO of Malhotra Industries. Her boss. Her unattainable dream.

Her mistake, waiting to happen.

He leaned back on the leather couch across the room, long fingers curled around a glass of whiskey, shirt unbuttoned enough to reveal a flash of tan skin and arrogance. His smile—lazy, confident, entirely unbothered—did strange things to her body. Women hovered around him, laughed too loud, leaned too close.

But his eyes—when they caught hers—didn’t waver.

She dropped her gaze.

It was dangerous, this pull she felt. She had loved him from the moment she had walked into the conference room on her first day.

Love at first sight? Maybe.

Or maybe it was an obsession—because Vihaan wasn’t made for gentle things. He was made of midnight, storm, and rules meant to be broken. She knew he was the kind of man who never stayed. Who took what he wanted and left with no promises.

Still, she couldn’t stop loving him.

And she certainly couldn’t stop wanting him.

“Enjoying the view?”

The voice came suddenly, inches from her ear—low, teasing, dark.

She turned—and found him.

Vihaan.

Too close. Too real. Too dangerous.

“I—I was just…” she stammered, stepping back.

But he didn’t let her go. His hand slid around her wrist—firm, deliberate.

“There’s some urgent work,” he said casually. “Upstairs. Come with me.”

She blinked. “Now? But this is—”

“Now, Aarohi,” he cut in, his voice low, leaving no room for questions. His hand wrapped around her wrist before she could speak again, pulling her along through the corridor like she belonged to him.

They were halfway through the hallway when Aaradhna’s voice cut in.

“Aarohi?” Her sister turned from the corridor with Ridhaan beside her, both looking surprised. “Where are you guys going?”

Vihaan didn’t miss a beat.

“Singapore client,” he lied smoothly, still holding Aarohi’s hand. “Something urgent. I need her with me.”

He turned his head slightly, giving Aarohi a slow, deliberate once-over—eyes dragging from her neckline to her thighs before locking on her lips. Then, without shame, he licked his bottom lip.

Aarohi flushed.

“You really can’t stop working even tonight?” Ridhaan chuckled, shaking his head. “You’re the CFO. I’m the CEO. I should be worried about this stuff.”

Vihaan smirked. “That’s the difference between us, bhai. You know how to take a break. I handle things before they spiral.”

Ridhaan rolled his eyes. “Fine. But just try not to kill the party mood.”

“Won’t take long,” Vihaan said, his tone deceptively casual—but his hand squeezed Aarohi’s wrist just enough to make her shiver.

Vihaan smirked without looking away from Aarohi. “Some things can’t wait.”

Aaradhna tilted her head. “Can’t it be handled tomorrow?”

Vihaan's voice turned darker. “No. Tonight. It needs to be dealt with... now.”

He didn’t let her speak.

They turned the corner. And the moment they were alone again, Aarohi tugged her hand back, heart pounding. “What work? Why do you need me?”

He didn’t answer. Just led her faster. The suite door swung open, and before she could step away, he pulled her in and slammed it shut.

“Mr. Malhotra—what is this?” she demanded, confused, breathless. “What work are we even talking about?”

He locked the door.

Then he turned around slowly.

His eyes were molten.

“There’s no work,” he said bluntly. “I brought you here to ruin you.”

The words hit her like a slap.

“What?” Her voice broke which was laced with sheer horror and shock.

What was he even saying?

Had he drunk too much?

He stepped forward, cornering her against the door. “You have been walking around all week in those tight office blouses, pretending you don’t know what you do to me.”

“I-I didn’t—” she stammered, but he was already in front of her, palm flat against the door beside her head.

“You looked at me tonight like you were begging to be touched,” he whispered. “So I am giving you what you’ve been aching for.”

“I wasn’t—Mr. Malhotra, this is wrong,” she gasped, trying to escape—but he caught her wrist, pressing it against the door, mouth grazing her ear.

“You are my employee. My responsibility. And I have fantasized about ruining your innocence since the day you joined.”

“Stop…” she choked out, but her voice lacked conviction.

“You think I care if you cry?” he growled against her neck. “You will be begging through the tears by the time I’m done.”

His lips crushed her throat—wet, sharp kisses that bruised as much as they burned. She whimpered, the pleasure twisting into confusion and forbidden hunger.

“You are mine tonight, Aarohi. I am not asking.”

And when his hand slid up her waist and her knees buckled—she didn’t pull away.

She just whispered, “Please don’t break me.”

To which he replied, “I came here to make sure you never feel whole again—unless it’s under me.”

“You’re shaking.”

Vihaan’s voice was velvet and venom, low and unhurried. His thumb grazed the inside of Aarohi’s wrist as her back stayed pinned to the door—his body pressing too close, too firm, too certain.

“I should go…” she whispered.

“But you won’t.”

Her breath hitched.

He leaned in, lips brushing the shell of her ear. “Because your body’s already made the decision your mouth is too scared to say.”

“I don’t want—”

“Liar,” he cut her off gently, not cruelly, not loudly. Just wickedly sure.

“I’ve seen the way you look at me during meetings. Like you want to spread those pretty legs across the conference table and let me fuck the logic out of you.” His hand slid slowly up her thigh. “You wore this tempting saree tonight, didn’t you?”

Her lips parted in protest—but no sound came out.

“I bet you’re wet right now,” he whispered, nosing down the side of her neck, inhaling her. “And if I slid my fingers into that soaked little pussy… you’d moan my name like you’ve rehearsed it.”

She trembled violently. “Mr. Malhotra… please… don’t…”

He pulled back just enough to look at her.

“Don’t what?” he asked. “Don’t say the things you’ve dreamed of hearing? Don’t touch you the way you ache to be touched?”

His hand found her waist, then her hip bone, fingers pressing in.

“I know you’re untouched,” he said, slower now. “I can feel it. The way you flinch. The way you fight it.”

He brushed her lips with his thumb. “You’re terrified of wanting me… and obsessed with the idea of what I’ll do to you.”

Aarohi turned her face, trying to escape the spell—but his hand caught her jaw, turning her back.

“You want love,” he murmured. “You want meaning. But tell me this—does your body care if I love you, when it’s melting for me like this?”

Her eyes stung.

“This is just a game to you,” she whispered, voice cracking.

“No, sweetheart,” he said, tone shifting darker. “It’s a claim game which I played with no one. This one I should’ve taken the day you first bit your lip in front of me.”

“Mr. Malhotra.”

“Let me be your first. Let me ruin every man after me. Let me down the memory of your cries when I stretch that tight little virgin cunt around me—so no one else can ever measure up.”

Her legs gave out and he caught her, wrapping her in his arms like a cage.

“Say yes.”

She didn’t.

She couldn’t.

But she didn’t push him away either.

And he smiled like he’d already won.

Her silence was deafening.

Vihaan leaned in again, his hand sliding beneath her hair, fingers curling against her nape. “Why no answer, Aarohi?”

She swallowed hard. “This is wrong, Mr. Malhotra…”

His jaw ticked.

“Mr. Malhotra,” he echoed, his voice suddenly cold. “ I thought , with each lingering touch you would forget being professional. But yet you are here, stick to one word. Mr. Malhotra.

“You are not in the damn boardroom.” I whispered, biting the side of her ear.

She kept her eyes down, lips trembling. “But you’re my boss.”

“Not right now,” he said, cupping her chin, forcing her to look at him. “Right now, I’m the man who’s going to take what you’ve never given to anyone.”

Her breath faltered.

“Say my name.”

She shook her head.

“I said, say it.”

“No…”

His eyes turned sharp, feral. In one sudden, fluid motion, he slid his hand down—between her thighs—and grabbed her clothed pussy, cupping it possessively, his palm pressing in hard against the center of her soaked panties.

She gasped—then moaned—so loud, it echoed in the suite.

“Vihaan!”

The name fell from her lips like a plea. Desperate. Undone.

His mouth curled in victory. “There she is…”

She looked away, humiliated by her own reaction.

He didn’t let her retreat.

“You’ll never call me Mr. Malhotra again when I’m holding you like this,” he whispered, grinding his palm harder against her heat. “Not when your pussy is this fucking wet for Vihaan.”

Aarohi clutched the doorknob behind her like a lifeline, chest heaving, face burning from the shame of what had just slipped out of her mouth.

Vihaan didn’t let up.

He stayed close, his hand still between her thighs—firm, unyielding, soaking in the power of her unraveling.

“You said my name like you needed me,” he whispered, breath hot against her cheek. “Say it again.”

She shook her head, eyes glassy. “No… I didn’t mean—”

He leaned closer, lips grazing the edge of hers but not kissing. “You moaned for me like a good girl. Don’t go running back to being scared now.”

“I’m not a toy,” she whispered, voice shaking. “I’m not like your flings, Vihaan. I’m not disposable.”

His eyes darkened at that.

He finally moved his hand—but only to slide it up her waist, his fingers brushing the curve of her breast. “You think I would bring you here…tease you like this…for a distraction?”

“You don’t even like me,” she blurted, frustrated. “You avoid me in the office. You act cold. And now—”

“I avoid you,” he cut in, voice low, “because if I ever let myself look too long… I would bend you over my desk and fuck you till you forgot how to breathe.”

Her breath hitched.

“I hate how much I crave you,” he admitted roughly, pressing her to the door with his full body now. “I hate that your innocence makes me this hard. That your eyes look at me like I’m not a monster.”

Her lips parted. “Then don’t be one…”

“I am, Aarohi,” he murmured darkly. “But you’re still here. Still trembling for me.”

“I should go.”

“Then go.”

His words were a dare.

She didn’t move.

“I know what this means to you,” he said softly now, dangerously soft. “And I’ll never pretend I’m the man you deserve. But tonight—this moment—let it be yours too. Not just mine.”

Her eyes closed. Her hands balled into fists at her sides.

“You’ll ruin me,” she whispered.

His forehead leaned into hers. “No. I’ll mark you.”

He kissed her. Slow. Deep. Claiming.

And even as her mind screamed no—her body arched, lips parting wider, surrendering inch by inch to the man she swore she’d resist.

And the next second Vihaan’s lips crashed into hers, rough and hungry, swallowing her gasp as he devoured her mouth with every ounce of pent-up lust.

Aarohi whimpered, fists clenching against his chest—but not to push him away. She was too far gone for that now.

His mouth moved against hers with maddening control—tasting, coaxing, dominating. Aarohi’s back arched against the door, caught between her shame and the fire tearing through her.

Every part of her screamed to stop.

But his touch…

His lips…

His body pressed to hers like it belonged there.

“You don’t have to love me tonight,” he whispered against her lips. “But don’t lie to yourself either… you want this.”

She didn’t answer.

Her eyes fluttered open—clouded with fear, yes, but lust too. So much it terrified her.

He stepped back for a moment, just enough to cup her face. “Last chance. Say no… and I’ll walk away.”

Silence.

Her lips trembled. “I don’t want to regret this.”

“You won’t.”

“You might.”

Vihaan smirked. “I am already addicted, Aarohi.”

Her heart clenched.

That single sentence—half a confession, half a trap—undid her.

She didn’t say yes.

She didn’t need to.

Because her fingers reached for him, curled into his shirt, and pulled.

That was all the permission he needed.

“So soft. So fucking mine.”

He pushed her off her pallu, fingers sliding along the edge of the barely covering blouse. “You’re trembling.”

She was.

Because this wasn’t a dream anymore.

Vihaan Malhotra—her first love, her arrogant, irresistible boss—was about to take her.

And the worst part?

She wanted it more than anything.

While Vihaan kissed her like he was parched and she was the only water on earth—desperate, devouring, unbearably slow.

Aarohi clung to his shirt, trembling, gasping into his mouth as he pressed her back against the door, one knee nudging between hers to part her legs just enough. Her saree rustled, the silk brushing her thighs as his hand snaked around her waist with practiced ease.

But it wasn’t cold greed—it was focused hunger.

His fingertips skimmed the small of her back, feeling the soft curve where skin met the tight waistband of her petticoat. His mouth never left hers as he murmured into her lips, “So warm…”

Then he moved lower.

His fingers slipped under the pleats of her saree slowly, reverently, like he was unwrapping something forbidden. Her stomach clenched when his knuckles brushed the side of her waist under the blouse, the heat of his skin colliding with hers.

“You feel this?” he rasped, lips ghosting over her jaw. “Every inch of you…untouched. Mine to explore.”

She whimpered, gripping his biceps as his hand slid farther—beneath the drape, beneath the petticoat—until he cupped her over the flimsy cotton of her panties.

She gasped, bucking slightly in shock.

He didn’t stop.

With maddening slowness, his hand slid beneath that last barrier, until his palm was pressed to her bare mound. Her entire body jolted at the contact, her thighs clenching involuntarily.

The heat of his hand against her bare core was almost too much—intimate, dangerous, sacred.

“Vihaan—” she whispered, voice shaking.

“Shh,” he breathed against her throat, planting hot kisses along her collarbone. “Let me feel you.”

His fingers didn’t probe—he simply cupped her at first, palm pressed firmly against her folds, feeling the softness, the vulnerability. Then he began moving—small, slow circles, dragging the slickness across her aching flesh.

She squirmed against the door, torn between shame and something darker, deeper. Her breath hitched, a strangled sound escaping her throat.

“It hurts…” she mumbled brokenly.

He sucked on her earlobe, a voice like sin. “Because no one’s touched you like a woman before. Because it’s me.”

Aarohi’s lashes fluttered, her hands shaking as they dug into his arms. She hated how much she wanted more. Hated that her body was betraying every line she’d drawn.

But Vihaan—he reveled in it.

“You’re so sensitive,” he murmured, dragging his thumb just over the top of her slit, making her jerk and cry out. “So fucking pure.”

Her thighs quivered, moisture pooling in places she'd never known could ache like this.

And when he whispered, “Let me ruin you a little, Aarohi,” she didn’t resist.

“You’re not stopping me now,” he murmured, voice rough, gaze flicking down to the small, barely-there blouse she wore under her saree—tight, silk, the kind designed more for style than coverage.

It clung to her like a second skin, hugging her curves, the neckline scandalously low with thin golden straps over her shoulders. A single tiny hook held the center together, trembling slightly as she breathed.

Her chest heaved, struggling under the tight confines of her blouse—deep maroon, sleeveless, the silk clinging to her curves, the neckline teasing and low, barely concealing her softness beneath. A row of delicate hooks lined the front, one wrong tug from bursting.

Vihaan’s eyes dropped there, dark with pure heat.

“This tiny thing,” he muttered, dragging his mouth across the fabric. “You wore this knowing I’d see you tonight, didn’t you?”

“Vihaan—please…” she trembled, her knees nearly giving out.

He growled low, like the sound came from his chest. “You want me to stop?”

She didn’t answer. She couldn’t.

With a wicked glint in his eyes, he dipped his head and bit down on the neckline, his teeth hooking into the first clasp. With precision and pure dominance, he pulled—unfastening it with his mouth.

Aarohi gasped, her hands flexing against his grip. “W-what are you doing…”

“Exactly what you’ve imagined every night since joining my office,” he whispered into her skin, hot breath grazing her cleavage. “Undoing you… with nothing but my mouth.”

Another clasp—undone with his teeth. Then another.

By the time he reached the last one, her blouse hung wide open, barely clinging to her shoulders, exposing the tender swell of her chest. The silk slipped further as his tongue brushed along the slope of one breast, trailing heat.

Then—he devoured her.

Not gently.

Vihaan’s mouth was everywhere—sucking, dragging, biting as his stubble grazed her skin. His tongue circled each sensitive curve, his lips pulling until she gasped his name like a plea.

“Vihaan!”

“That’s better,” he growled, pulling one breast fully into his mouth, while his palm squeezed hard between her thighs.

Aarohi arched, a strangled moan breaking from her lips. “It… hurts…”

“Good,” he muttered, mouth still full of her. “It should. Your body’s been untouched. It needs to learn mine.”

He didn’t stop. He worshipped and tormented her at once, taking his time as if her chest alone was a feast. Her nipples peaked under the relentless touch of his tongue, his mouth moving between them—sloppy, wet, thorough.

Her back arched into him. Her body betrayed every fear she’d had when he’d pulled her into this room.

And her heart?

It pounded with something dangerously close to surrender.

His mouth curved into a smirk against her skin. “You wear something like this and expect me not to go feral?”  His teeth grazed the top curve of her breast.

“Perfect,” he murmured, almost reverent. Then his tone turned darker—hungrier. “Now let me show you how I play with what’s mine.”

He took her breast into his mouth with a raw need that made Aarohi cry out, body arching against the door. His tongue licked in deep strokes, his lips sucking hard, his teeth grazing with just enough pressure to make her squirm. He didn’t kiss—he devoured.

His free hand, still between her legs, pressed tighter.

Aarohi sobbed out his name, her legs shaking.

He growled against her chest, dragging his tongue to the other side, wetting a trail as he moved. “Look at you… falling apart just from my mouth. What will you do when I’m inside you, sweetheart?”

Her breath came in short gasps, pleasure sharp and unbearable.

His fingers dug in deeper between her legs, his mouth never stopping—marking her, owning her, reducing her to nothing but sensation and need.

And she was unraveling.

Hopelessly.

Helplessly.

Only his name on her lips… and his heat buried against every inch of her.

Vihaan finally pulled back, breath ragged, lips glistening from the way he had devoured her. He looked at her now—not just with lust, but something fiercer, something territorial.

Her chest rose and fell rapidly, bared and flushed, the skin marked in places with swollen redness and faint bruises left behind by his mouth. Her blouse hung open, half-off her shoulders, helplessly clinging to her like she herself was clinging to the last threads of resistance.

He exhaled slowly, eyes trailing over her heaving breasts, and then lower. A wicked smirk curved on his lips.

“Look at you,” he muttered, voice gravel-rich, roughened by hunger. “I marked you everywhere. And you're still standing… barely.”

Aarohi opened her mouth to speak, but no words came. Her body trembled—not from fear, but from the overwhelming heat rushing through her veins. She had never felt so seen… so ruined… and so deeply wanted.

And then he shocked her again.

Vihaan dropped to his knees before her.

Aarohi froze.

His eyes, still dark with desire, stayed locked on hers as his palms slowly skimmed down her sides, over her saree pleats, holding her like she was something sacred—and his to desecrate.

“I should never want you like this,” he whispered, brushing his lips against the exposed skin of her stomach. “But I do. I want to ruin you for anyone else—permanently.”

She gasped as he pressed a slow, open-mouthed kiss right below her navel, the rough scrape of his stubble sending ripples through her belly.

“Vihaan…” she whimpered.

He didn’t stop. His hands moved to her waist, fingers sliding into the tucked pleats of her saree. Inch by inch, he began unwrapping her, his eyes never leaving hers—as though each layer was a vow being broken.

When the last pleat loosened and the fabric fluttered to the floor, he hooked his fingers beneath her petticoat, drawing it down agonizingly slow. The rustle of fabric, the heat in the room, the tension in her body—it all combined into a heady chaos she couldn’t escape.

And then she stood before him, stripped down to nothing but a pair of black lace panties, trembling like a flame caught in a storm.

Fully dressed in his sharp dark suit, Vihaan looked up at her from his knees.

“Now look at the irony,” he said darkly, fingers tracing the edge of her last barrier. “The man you call ‘Boss’ is on his knees for you. But don't think for a second it makes me weak, Aarohi…”

He leaned forward, lips grazing just above the waistband.

“It only means I want to taste you first... before I break every rule you ever lived by.”

Aarohi’s breathing hitched as Vihaan’s head dipped lower. His warm breath fanned across her thighs, making her skin erupt in goosebumps. She gripped his shoulders instinctively, but he didn’t stop. His lips pressed a soft, reverent kiss just above her inner thigh—then another, this time firmer, lingering longer.

A sharp gasp escaped her.

“Your skin,” he murmured against her, voice thick, “tastes like sin.”

Her hands trembled as they slid into his hair, fingers tangling at the roots. He groaned—low, possessive—like her touch fed something primal inside him. Slowly, deliberately, his tongue dragged across the sensitive spot between her thighs, right over the lace barrier, making her hips jolt.

“Vihaan…” she whispered, almost a warning, almost a prayer.

He looked up at her from between her legs, hair tousled from her grip, eyes molten. “Still calling me that?” he asked, his smirk curling into something darker. “I liked it better when you moaned it.”

Her cheeks flushed. “This is wrong… you know it is.”

He slid his hand up, fingers ghosting over the damp heat at her core—just enough to make her whimper.

“I know it’s wrong,” he said slowly, fingers circling lazily. “But that doesn't change the fact that you’re soaked for me.”

She bit her lip, choking on a moan.

He pressed a bruising kiss on the inside of her other thigh. “You say no with your mouth, Aarohi,” he whispered, “but your body? It's begging.”

“Stop…” she whispered weakly, though her hands gripped him tighter.

His fingers pressed harder against the thin fabric. “You don't want me to stop. You're scared because you know once I take you…” He looked up at her, gaze heavy. “There won’t be any going back.”

Her legs threatened to give out.

“Tell me you don’t want this,” he dared her, pressing one last kiss right over her center, slow and possessive. “Lie to me, Aarohi. Just once.”

She opened her mouth… but no words came.

Only a soft, desperate moan that slipped from her lips as her hips involuntarily rocked into his palm.

And Vihaan smiled.

“I thought so.”

Aarohi’s knees threatened to buckle as Vihaan slowly ran his hands up her thighs again, spreading them just enough to kneel deeper between them. She stood, breathless, nearly naked except for her damp lace panties and trembling nerves, pinned by the intensity in his eyes.

“Still shaking?” he murmured, his voice like velvet laced with fire. “Don’t worry, baby… I’ll teach your body everything mine already craves.”

He dipped his head again, mouth brushing over the soaked fabric, tongue teasing the outline of her most sensitive spot. Aarohi gasped, her hands gripping his hair tighter, her hips moving against him before she even realized.

“Mr. Malhotra—Vihaan—please… it feels…” Her voice dissolved into a shudder as he sucked the fabric into his mouth, wetting it more, making her feel every slow drag of his tongue through the barrier.

He chuckled darkly. “So wet for me already… and I haven’t even tasted you properly yet.”

With that, his fingers hooked into her panties and pulled them down slowly—so slowly that her breath caught in anticipation. She felt the cool air kiss her bare skin, felt completely exposed... and more alive than she had ever felt.

Vihaan pulled the panties off completely, tossing them aside like something insignificant.

Then he leaned in.

His mouth opened over her core, warm tongue flicking and lapping, and Aarohi’s entire body arched. Her moan came out broken, desperate.

“Vihaan… it’s too much… I—”

His hands slid up, gripping her thighs firmly, holding her in place.

“No, sweetheart,” he growled softly between strokes. “This is nothing. I haven’t even started ruining you yet.”

A finger slid between her folds—slow, gentle, but demanding. She gasped at the sudden intrusion, her hips jerking. It didn’t hurt exactly—but there was a stretch, a pressure that made her cry out softly against her own arm.

He stilled for a moment, looking up at her, reading her face.

“It’s your first… isn’t it?” His voice was quieter now. “Even your body’s never known what it means to be claimed.”

Aarohi couldn’t meet his eyes. She nodded.

And Vihaan’s gaze darkened.

A quiet moment passed—then his voice dropped, thick with something dangerous and tender.

“Then let me be the first… and the only.”

He pressed a kiss on her inner thigh again, slow and reverent. Then he moved back to her core, this time using both—his tongue and finger, working together with slow, maddening strokes. His mouth worshipped her, tongue flicking and dragging with practiced hunger, while his finger coaxed her gently open.

Aarohi’s body burned.

Pain melted into pleasure… confusion into need… and somewhere in the haze, her mouth formed only one word:

“Vihaan…”

And that was all he needed.

And Vihaan care to go slow.

His tongue moved with wicked precision—circling, flicking, stroking—while his finger thrust in deeper now, curling ever so slightly with each motion. Every time Aarohi’s body tried to escape the overwhelming sensation, he held her firmer, grounding her with one strong arm.

And then—he added a second finger.

She gasped, her walls clenching, body jerking in startled pleasure. He smirked against her, the vibration sending a jolt straight through her.

“Such a tight, sweet little cunt,” he murmured between strokes of his tongue. “And now… all mine.”

His free hand reached up to her chest, finding one soft, trembling breast and squeezing—his thumb circling her nipple, tugging and teasing until it peaked beneath his touch. The mix of stimulation from both ends wrecked her—his fingers thrusting deeper now, his mouth never stopping, his hand owning her chest like it belonged there.

Her moans turned into sobs of pleasure, hips grinding against his mouth uncontrollably.

“Vihaan—please—I can’t— there's something wrong down th

ere….Ahhhh”

“Yes, you can,” he growled against her core. “Come for me, Aarohi. Give me everything.”

And she did.

To be continued.....