His hands were everywhere—gripping, caressing, lifting, anchoring.
His mouth moved over her as though he were starving.
And she fed him.
With her sounds. With her scent. With the way her back arched when he whispered her name against the inside of her thigh.
Vivek was lost.
Completely.
Utterly.
There was no rhythm. No plan. Only instinct.
Every time she moaned, he hardened.
Every time she gasped, he dove deeper.
She rode him like she needed him to live, hips rolling in slow waves, her nails dragging across his chest as she pulsed around him.
And when he flipped her—took her from behind, gripping her waist, kissing the curve of her spine—she sobbed into the pillow, her whole body trembling through another release.
They laughed.
They bit.
They begged.
They whispered things no one would ever say in daylight.
He told her how long he’d wanted her.
She told him how long she’d known.
They clung to each other as though the dawn would steal it away.
By the fourth wave, Kalpana had no words left.
Only sounds.
Only limbs that wouldn’t stop shaking.
Only a heart that beat so hard it hurt.
He wrapped his arms around her from behind, still inside her ass, and held her close while she panted through her final climax—raw, deep, uncontrollable.
She didn’t cry.
But something in her soul cracked wide open.
When the storm outside finally broke into silence…
And the candle had melted down to its final pool of wax…
They lay tangled.
Sweat-slicked. Spent.
She rested her cheek against his chest.
He stroked her back, his fingers trembling from exhaustion.
Neither of them spoke.
Because words would only make it smaller.
And what they had just done—what they had just become—was too large, too sacred, too wild to name.
Chapter XXXV: The Door Left Open
It was almost morning when they finally slept.
The candle had burned out, the storm had quieted, and Kalpana lay curled in Vivek’s arms, her body bare and glowing with warmth from the night they had just lived.
No words.
Just breath.
And silence that felt earned.
The front door opened softly around 5 a.m.
Avinash entered first, rain on his shoulders, shoes in hand. Amit followed behind him, both quiet as they stepped in, careful not to wake anyone.
But they didn’t need long to realize something had changed.
The hallway lights were still off. The door to Kalpana’s room—usually closed—was now left ajar.
Barely.
But open.
And that was enough.
Avinash stilled. His eyes caught the scattered clothes on the floor. A man’s shirt. A woman’s robe.
His gaze met Amit’s.
No anger.
No shock.
Just knowing.
They didn’t speak.
Instead, they walked to the kitchen. Poured coffee. Sat in silence for a few minutes as the sun began to rise in pale gold behind the curtains.
After a while, they heard movement.
Vivek stepped out first.
Hair messy. Shirtless. His skin still marked by her nails. His mouth swollen from kisses that still hadn’t left his system.
He stopped when he saw them.
For a beat, no one moved.
Then Amit raised his cup in salute. “Mornin’.”
Vivek swallowed. “You’re early.”
Avinash smirked. “You’re not.”