༄˖°.🍂.ೃ࿔

Piyali stirred softly, a lazy warmth flooding her senses the moment she felt that familiar heavy weight anchoring her down.

He was pressed flush against her chest, solid and radiating heat. She didn't even need to open her eyes to know it was him.

One of her hands remained loosely tangled in the thick messy strands of his hair while her other arm draped comfortably over his neck.

As consciousness crept in, she stretched beneath him with a quiet satisfied whimper, the movement fluid and unhurried.

God, they had finally slept properly together after what felt like an eternity.

Ever since the wedding, Samar had barely found a fleeting moment to breathe, let alone rest.

Between managing the sprawling farmlands, handling the endless tangles of business work and shouldering his new responsibilities, he would trudge home late into the night, only to disappear again before the first rays of sunrise.

But today was Sunday, a quiet sacred boundary in his chaotic routine.

It meant he would stay home unless, of course, Ajay called him away for some absolute emergency.

Opening her sleepy eyes halfway, Piyali looked down at him, her gaze instantly softening at the sight.

He was buried shamelessly against her chest, his warm steady breaths fanning across her skin.

Somewhere during the restless tossing and turning of the night, her heavy saree had been shed, tossed carelessly across the mattress.

It left her in just her petticoat and blouse, the front buttons of which were now half undone.

He had blindly unfastened them in his sleep, driven by a primal urge to pull her closer, needing nothing between his skin and hers.

A helpless fond sigh escaped her lips. A small smile bloomed as she felt his lips brush lazily against her right breast, his nose slightly squished from how tightly he was wedged against her.

How is he even breathing like this? Her fingers slid gently through his hair, her nails lightly scratching his scalp with sleepy affection.

"Uthjao..." she cooed softly, her voice gentle with a morning haze.

(Wake up..)

The word was a half hearted attempt to wake him, though she herself had absolutely no intention of leaving the cozy cocoon of the bed.

Instead, she reached down, pulling the heavy blanket higher over his broad bare back so the morning chill wouldn't bite at him.

Then, she wrapped her arm more firmly around his neck, drawing him even deeper into her embrace.

Within minutes, the rhythmic pull of sleep claimed her once again.

When Piyali finally woke up properly, the heavy warmth against her hadn't shifted, except now she could feel the subtle change in his posture. Samar was awake too.

Before either of them could speak, a soft hesitant knock echoed from the other side of the heavy wooden door.

"Piyali beta..." a gentle familiar voice called out.

(Piyali, child..)

It was Sheetal aunty. To outsiders, she might have looked like just another hired maid managing the household chores but Samar's reasons for bringing her into their home ran far deeper than simple labor.

After the wedding, Samar had known that Piyali would struggle to manage such a massive ancestral house entirely on her own.

Initially, he had considered hiring someone younger, someone quick on their feet.

But then, one sweltering afternoon, Sheetal had approached him, her eyes downcast as she hesitantly asked for help.

Her husband's meager earnings were barely enough to keep a roof over their heads and with no children to support them in their later years, life had become a painful daily struggle for survival.

Samar's heart had softened.

But before making any promises, he had consulted Piyali, wanting to ensure she would be entirely comfortable sharing her space with a stranger.

Sheetal wasn't old, but she wasn't young either, perhaps just a few years younger than their own mothers.

Piyali hadn't hesitated for a single second.

"Le aaiye na ghar..."

(Please bring her home...)

she had said instantly, her eyes warm with empathy.

And from that day onward, Samar had integrated her into the household, ensuring she was given proper wages and the utmost respect.

Later, when Sheetal had hesitantly asked if her husband could also find some small work, Samar had gently refused to put the man through the grueling backbreaking labor of the fields.

Instead, he offered him a lighter more peaceful role, tending to the sprawling courtyard garden, manicuring the flowers and caring for the vibrant plants.

He was rarely seen though, mostly does his work then leaves.

The couple had accepted the gesture with tears in their eyes.

Since then, every single morning, Sheetal aunty would help Piyali around the kitchen.

Truthfully, Piyali loved cooking too much to ever give up control completely but she deeply appreciated the companionship.

She only kept her till her work was done or if she needed an helpful hand. When not, she was asked to go home.

And today, because the master bedroom had remained unusually quiet long past their waking hour, Sheetal had come to check in.

"Ji...nashte mein kuch bana du?"

(Dear... should I make something for breakfast?)

Piyali lifted her head slightly from the pillow, her eyes instinctively darting down to Samar. The man clearly had zero intention of moving a single muscle. He didn't even blink.

"Mashima, aap rehne dijiye... main bana dungi"

(Auntie, let it be... I will make it)

Piyali called back, her voice raised just enough to cut through the door.

"Toh mai-"

(Then I-)

Before the older woman could finish her sentence, Samar lazily pushed himself up just an inch, his voice raspy, deep, and heavily laced with sleep as he cut in.

"Maa ji, aap ghar jaiye... aaj aaram kariye. Kal se aaiyega."

(Mother, you go home... rest today. Come from tomorrow.)

A brief understanding silence hung in the hallway before Sheetal's soft voice drifted back. "Thik hai ji... shukriya sahab."

(All right, then...thank you.)

Her words were formal even after being told to avoid it.

A few moments later, the light retreating shuffle of her footsteps faded down the corridor. Piyali immediately turned her gaze back to him, her brows knitting into a slight disapproving frown.

"Aapne unhe ghar kyun bhej diya...mujhe kuch kam karne the.."

"Why did you send her home? I actually needed her help with the deep cleaning today."

Without offering an immediate answer, Samar simply let his weight drop back down onto her body.

He rested his chin against the soft slope of her chest, tilting his head up to look at her with heavy hooded eyes.

"Aaj ghar khali chahiye mujhe..."

(Today I want the house empty...)

His large hands slid smoothly around her waist, his long fingers anchoring themselves beneath her arms, trapping her beneath him as if he intended to keep her there for the rest of the day.

Piyali blinked, a faint flush rising on her cheeks at his shamelessness. "Kyun...?"

(Why..?)

Samar remained quiet for a beat, his gaze lingering on her lips before he shifted higher, burying his face into the sensitive crook of her neck.

"Bas chahiye..."

(I just want it...)

he mumbled against her warm skin, sending a shiver down her spine.

"Kaam aap kal kar lena."

(You can do the work tomorrow.)

Piyali shook her head helplessly, a soft chuckle escaping her as her fingers brushed through his messy uncombed hair.

"Dekhiye..kitne alsi hogaye hai aap aaj.."

(Look at you. You've become so incredibly lazy today...)

His hands traveled upward, agonizingly slow, until they settled over the soft curve of her stomach.

His fingers squeezed gently at her sides, absentmindedly playing with the soft flesh of her waist while Piyali's gaze drifted toward the window, suddenly lost in her own thoughts.

"Acha Suno..." she whispered quietly.

(Listen...)

He merely hummed in response, his lips grazing her collarbone before pressing a slow deliberate kiss right against the pulsing vein there.

Piyali hesitated, her chest rising and falling unsteadily.

"Main soch rahi thi ki..."

(I was thinking that...)

Seeking comfort, her fingers instinctively slipped toward the nape of his neck, his absolute weakest point, a place that always made him soften completely.

"Kya?"

(What?)

His hands drifted lower, his palms tracing the line from her waist down to the flare of her hips, waiting for her to finish.

"Woh... main ye soch rahi thi..." (That... I was thinking this...)

Sensing the unusual tremor in her voice, Samar finally lifted himself up, propping his weight on his forearms to look at her properly.

The sleepy lazy haze in his expression sharpened into a quiet intense seriousness. His dark eyes locked entirely onto her face, waiting for her to speak.

The sudden undivided attention made her stomach flip with nervousness.

"Nahi nahi... aap kariye na... main bol rahi hoon..."

(No no... you carry on... I am speaking...)

Blushing furiously, she quickly gripped his shoulders and tugged him back down against herself, trying to hide her face and distract him before she lost the courage entirely.

Samar narrowed his eyes faintly at her suspiciously guilty behavior, a silent question passing through his gaze but he settled back down anyway, resting his heavy frame against her comfortably.

Piyali swallowed hard, staring at the ceiling before she finally blurted it out in a single breath.

"Main soch rahi thi kyun din ke liye maa ke ghar jaun..masi aayi haina hamari toh mujhe laga kuch din ke liye jana chaiye...nahi?

(I was thinking of going back to my parents' house for a few days. Masi has come to visit from the village, and I thought... maybe I could spend some time with her?)

She tilted her face slightly as she finished, her hopeful anxious eyes carefully searching the sharp angles of his face, watching for any flicker of annoyance or disapproval.

It wasn't that she feared he would forbid her. Samar was never restrictive.

He never questioned her whereabouts, never demanded explanations, and even when he wasn't home, she moved with absolute freedom.

He just needed to be informed and if he felt like it wasn't fine, he wouldn't let her go, which was rare.

But it had barely been a few months since their wedding.

And somewhere in the middle of these quiet ordinary mornings, these sleepy embraces and the silent dinners where she sat waiting for his jeep to pull into the courtyard, Samar had grown deeply thoroughly accustomed to her presence.

Truthfully, Piyali herself didn't want to leave. But during her brief visit to her parents' house the previous week, her aunt had filled the living room with endless passive aggressive taunts, muttering about how daughters completely forget their own blood the moment they get married.

How Piyali hadn't even bothered to stay for a few days with her and how quickly she had become entirely absorbed in her new sasural.

Even though her masi visited their house quiet frequently.

Her mother had immediately scolded her aunt for the comments. "Abhi naye naye shaadi hui hai..."

(The marriage is very fresh right now...)

she had snap defended, understanding that the young couple needed time to build their own world.

But Piyali, gentle and soft hearted to a fault, had carried those sharp words deep inside her chest.

And now she was sitting here trying to convince her husband to let her go, despite her own heart begging her to stay.

For a few long agonizing seconds, Samar simply stared at her, his expression unreadable.

Then, finally, a low murmur broke from his lips.

"Abhi toh tumhe biyah ke laya hoon... Aur abhi ghar jana hai?"

(I have only just brought you home after marriage... and you want to go home already?)

There wasn't a shred of anger in his tone, only a deep heavy undercurrent of reluctant attachment.

Piyali instantly shook her head, her hands tightening on his shoulders.

"Nahi nahi...aisa nahi hai, apko chor ke jane ka toh hamara bhi Maan nahi...par wo masi..."

(No... no, it's not that I want to leave you and go... but... Masi was saying...)

The faint sharp crease between his heavy brows deepened immediately. "Kuch kaha tumse?"

(Did she say something?)

"Nahi nahi...kuch galat nahi bola." Piyali denied quickly, protecting her family's peace.

"Unhe bas wo meri yaad aa rahi thi..toh kehne lagi thodi der reh lu..chali jau kya?"

(No, no, she didn't say anything bad.)

(She was just... missing me, asking me to stay for a few days. So... should I go?)

Samar let out a long quiet sigh, the tension leaving his shoulders as he rested his forehead heavily against her collarbone.

His arms tightened around her waist, pulling her in so close that there wasn't a single pocket of air left between them. "Kitne din?"

(How many days?)

Piyali gently played with the soft hairs at the back of his neck, her voice dropping into a soft yielding whisper. "Aap bolo..."

(You tell me...)

Even while asking for his permission to leave, she knew one thing with absolute unwavering clarity, the exact moment Samar told her he needed her back, she would drop everything and return to him without a second thought.

A heavy silence settled over the sunlit room for a few moments before he finally spoke, his voice muffled against her skin.

"Aap jao..."

(You go...)

He paused, his grip tightening for a fraction of a second before he loosed it. "Jab maan bhar jayein, aap aajana, par.."

(Come back whenever you feel like it. But...)

He shifted, his lips lingering so close to her cheek that his warm breath sent a shiver through her. "Teen-chaar din se zyada nahi."

(Not more than three or four days.)

Piyali nodded immediately against his shoulder, a little too quickly, a small breathless "Hmm hmm..." escaping her.

The victorious beautiful smile currently hiding on her lips didn't go unnoticed by him at all.

Samar leaned up just enough to catch the curve of her mouth, his eyes narrowing in fond amusement as he prepared to punish her for being so eager to leave him.

The air in the room grew heavy, thick with a sudden suffocating heat as his hands drifted downward.

His palms found the soft curve of her stomach, his fingers sinking into her flesh with a slow deliberate pressure, as if mapping a territory that belonged entirely to him.

Piyali trembled, a fragile broken sound catching in her throat as his touch slid lower, anchoring her by the hips.

He leaned in, his lips grazing the sensitive skin of her left breast through the fabric of her blouse, his teeth catching the flesh in a sharp teasing bite that made her arch into him as she yelped.

The muffled echoes of her breath filled the quiet space, dangerous and unrestrained.

She realized then, with a spike of adrenaline, why he had cleared the pavilion and dismissed the servants hours ago.

There was no escape and no one to hear her surrender.

His head dipped lower. The warmth of his breath fanned across her bare skin an instant before his lips brushed the shallow dip of her navel.

He lingered there, torturing her with agonizingly swirling kisses, his tongue thrusting in her navel while his fingers hooked into the hem of her half opened blouse, the fabric opened, mostly torn at his aggressiveness, exposing her to the cool night air and his searing gaze.

And in the flick of a moment, his hands dragged the blouse down her legs before pulling her thighs over his shoulders, burying himself between them as he lost himself in her warmth.

Instinct took over. Her fingers tangled frantically in his thick hair, gripping him as if he were the only solid thing left in a spinning world.

A low vibrated hum of satisfaction rumbled against her skin. His heavy palm flattened against her abdomen, pinning her to the sheets, making it impossible to pull away.

Piyali shifted restlessly, her body betraying her as a slick heat pooled between her thighs. Resistance was a forgotten concept.

Driven by a sudden desperate urge to close the agonizing distance between them, she shifted her hips, wrapping her legs around his neck, pulling him down into her already opened nectar.

With every tremor of her thighs and every ragged breath she drew, the silver bells of her payal moved in the silence, a delicate frantic rhythm that narrated her undone state to the quiet room.

He ignored her entirely, his mouth still anchored to her skin.

The rhythmic dragging heat of his lips and tongue was relentless, pulling a sharp unraveled gasp from deep inside her chest.

"Suno naa...bass.."

(listen please.. enough...)

The weak plea was nothing more than a breathless whisper, dying out before it could even leave her lips.

She brought her hands down, her fingers digging desperately into his shoulders, trying to push against his weight and raise his head.

But he refused to budge. He simply let out a low vibration of a hum against her skin, a dark dismissive sound that made it clear he wasn't stopping.

He was entirely consumed by the taste of her, demanding every ounce of her focus.

But Piyali kept shifting, her hips twisting restlessly beneath him as she tried to break the overwhelming intensity of the sensation.

Suddenly, he wrenched his head back with a sharp impatient jerk.

He stared down at her, his dark eyes glittering with a dangerous mix of desire and sheer frustration.

This girl truly knew how to test his patience.

She wanted him, he could feel the slick heat of her desire, could hear it in the way her breath hitched but the moment he gave her exactly what she begged for, she became too sensitive, trying to pull away.

If any other day, he would have pulled away and have her in his arms but.

Today was just not that day.

Before she could even read the warning in his gaze, he moved.

A startled yelp tore from her throat as he gripped her hips and flipped her over onto her stomach in one fluid brutally efficient motion.

The mattress rushed up to meet her but she had no time to recover. In a heartbeat, his hands settled over her back.

He hooked his arm beneath her pelvis, ruthlessly pulling her hips up and back, arching her body into a vulnerable agonizingly perfect curve.

"Choro naa..." she gasped, but the word was cut short as her back arched itself, giving into his firm hold.

(Let go...)

With his other hand, he gathered both of her slender wrists, pinning them securely against the small of her back in a vice-like grip.

She was completely trapped, suspended between the mattress and his hard frame.

He didn't give her a second to breathe. Leaning down, he buried his face right back into the sensitive core, his mouth finding a new torturous rhythm.

Piyali could only cry out into the pillows, completely helpless against the heavy demanding pulse of his touch.

A silent tear slipped from the corner of her eye, soaking into the fabric of the pillow beneath her cheek.

God knows what had possessed him tonight, but this sudden brutal edge to his passion left her completely breathless.

His grip on her pinned wrists was unyielding, and his heavy arm around her waist anchored her body in place, ruthlessly ensuring her complete cooperation.

The dirty sound of those stickiness coming from his aggressive sucking could be heard as he took her soul out of her cunt.

This stark unapologetic dominance was doing something dangerous to her.

It made her feel entirely docile, stripping away her defenses until she was nothing but raw sensation.

Every weak trembling word she uttered was just a token attempt to claw back some control, because the terrifying truth was she loved this.

It gave her an intense intoxicating satisfaction to simply let go, to let him take over and use her body exactly how he pleased.

"Arr parchi naaa...."

(I can't take it anymore.....)

It was getting to be too much. The sheer intensity was a wave crashing over her, pushing her past her limits.

Giving up the fight, she let her face sink deeper into the pillow, completely surrendering her body to his whims.

She and deeply asleep in the quiet of the room.

༄˖°.🍂.ೃ࿔