“I want you both,” she gasped into Avinash’s kiss.
“You have us,” Amit murmured from between her thighs, voice thick with devotion.
He stood, lifting her effortlessly, her legs wrapping around his waist. Avinash stripped off his shirt, lean body gleaming, eyes locked on hers.
Amit carried her to the bed—soft sheets pulled back, candles flickering. He lay her down, kissing her chest, her stomach, her hip.
Avinash knelt above her, brushing her hair back, lips tracing down her throat. His fingers trailed between her thighs, joining Amit’s as they both explored her together—two sets of hands, two mouths, one woman gasping, moaning, alive beneath them.
When Amit entered her—slow, full, deep—she cried out, not in pain, but in release.
Avinash kissed her lips, whispering words that weren’t words, just heat. Her hands gripped his hips, pulling him closer, guiding his length toward her mouth.
She took him eagerly, lips wrapped around him, tongue flicking, body rocking as Amit moved inside her. She had never felt so full. So utterly claimed, yet completely free.
Every inch of her body was worshipped.
Touched.
Known.
She cried out again, release ripping through her like lightning through a tree. Her thighs clenched around Amit. Her mouth moaned around Avinash.
And still, they didn’t stop.
Because this wasn’t about sex.
It was about arrival.
About years of restraint pouring out of her body like honey.
About being touched not for what she gave—but for who she was.
They moved with her, for her. Until she shattered again. And again. And again.
Finally, they lay beside her—one on each side—bodies spent, but eyes wide, breathless, stunned by the power of what they had just shared.
Kalpana lay between them, naked, sweat-slick, glowing.
Not as a fantasy.
As a truth.
She was no longer a woman rediscovering herself.
She was a woman who had claimed her fire—and shared it without apology.
Chapter XXII: The Threshold
Kalpana couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt this way—open, aching, utterly claimed and yet in control. Her body throbbed with the afterglow of being filled, worshipped, devoured. But tonight wasn’t over.
She was sprawled across the bed, sweat-kissed and panting, as Avinash traced a line of kisses from her navel upward. Amit knelt between her legs, still hard, eyes glazed with reverence and need.
She reached out to both of them, fingers curled like a summons. “Don’t stop. I want… more.”
Amit’s eyes darkened. “More?”
Her voice was hoarse, soaked in hunger. “Both of you.”
For a moment, neither moved. Then Avinash leaned in, kissed her deeply—tongue slow, deliberate, filling her mouth as if it were an extension of how they would fill her body.
Amit’s hand slid under her hips, lifting her slightly, positioning her with worshipful precision. Kalpana guided Avinash behind her, her hips arching, breath trembling as his tip pressed between her cheeks.
She exhaled, slowly. “Go slow. But go in.”
Avinash’s fingers spread her open, gently slicking her, preparing her. Amit leaned forward, kissing her nipples, her neck, her mouth as Avinash’s shaft began to sink inside—inch by inch, patient and deep.