–SOHINI–
I don't know how a kiss led to this—to me lying naked and breathless beneath Vedant Khanna, in a luxury suite of a five-star hotel.
It started as just a kiss—soft, tentative, aching with the weight of everything unspoken.
"Spread for me, Mrs. Banerjee," he whispered, voice husky and commanding, lips brushing my ear with a cruelty that made my thighs tremble.
"Vedant—" I hissed, my voice trembling, wanting to protest, to beg him to call me Sohini like he once did—before everything fell apart.
But he didn't let me speak. His mouth silenced mine—firm, hungry, desperate—and shamefully, I welcomed it. I devoured it.
Because the truth was, I missed him. His touch. His mouth. His cock. I had craved this chaos for three fucking years.
He'd wrecked me twice in the past—left me ruined and aching. And now, he was back to ruin me for the third time.
I tilted my head back, legs parted like a shameless woman—a married woman—open beneath a man who wasn't her husband. But Ritwik and I were nothing more than an arranged couple. A name on paper. A performance, just to please our parents. There was no love, no vows I had ever truly made or accepted.
But Vedant—he had once owned every piece of me. And perhaps he still did.
His fingers trailed from my thigh to the curve of my hip, teasing, exploring, until they found my wetness. My breath caught.
I hadn't shaved. Why would I? Who could've predicted I'd be spread like this, drenched for him—my boss, my past, my Vedant.
But here I was, moaning his name as two fingers curled inside me, skillful and deliberate.
"Faster—harder—" I gritted, my hips bucking into his hand.
His pace quickened—fingers driving deeper. I reached for him, needing him closer, needing him inside me.
"Fuck me," I whispered. Then louder, "Please. Fuck me bad."
His lips curved into that crooked, arrogant smile—the one that said he'd already won. He didn't reply, just loosened the belt around his waist with one hand.
The trousers dropped. My eyes locked on the bulge beneath his boxers—thick, pulsing, demanding attention.
When he peeled the last clothing away, I bit my lip.
God.
That veiny, swollen dick stood tall and heavy—and it looked even bigger than I remembered.
"Open your mouth," he said, low and husky.
I obeyed, heart pounding. He pushed the full length in—hitting the back of my throat. I gagged, but he didn't stop. He pulled back halfway, then thrust again, deep and slow, again and again, until my eyes watered and my lungs burned.
Tears slipped down my cheeks. My lips throbbed. I could barely breathe—but I didn't want him to stop.
Then he shoved me down on the bed—firm hands pinning mine above my head with one grip. His other hand parted my thighs until I was open—completely exposed.
Then, in one swift, unrelenting motion—he entered me.
I screamed. It was too much. Too thick. Too deep. I felt split open, stretched past my limits.
"Ahh—slow—" I cried out—he was so big. Had he always been this massive? Or had my body simply forgotten what it felt like to be split open by him?
But he didn't slow.
He was punishing me—each thrust a reminder of how I'd left. How I'd broken us.
And I let him. I took it.
He pulled out and slammed back in, hitting that tender spot deep inside—the back of my cervix. My body trembled.
"You seem to enjoy it," he growled, hair damp with sweat, his hips grinding with ruthless rhythm.
He looked so goddamn beautiful. Wild. Dangerous.
I touched his face, breath hitching.
"Shouldn't I?" I whispered.
He said nothing—just flipped me, lifting my legs and folding them over my head, holding them there like I weighed nothing.
"What are you—Vedant what are you doing?" I panted, body trembling.
"Shh—" he kissed me softly, then thrust in again—deeper, harsher, merciless.
The angle—God, the stretch—I felt him in places I didn't know existed. My spine arched. My nails scratched his back. My eyes rolled back, lips bleeding from how hard I bit down.
"Ah—I can't—I—" My voice cracked, choked by the mixture of pain and unbearable pleasure. Tears poured from my eyes.
"Please—stop. Please."
He froze.
For the first time—he looked at me. Really looked.
I saw the flicker of fear in his eyes, masked quickly behind his usual restraint. He gently released my legs, hands trembling slightly.
"I'll be gentle," he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to my forehead.
I nodded, wiping away the tears.
Then he guided me on top of him. His hands rested firmly on my waist, grounding me, steadying me. I moved slowly, carefully—grinding down on him, feeling every inch slide in, filling me, but this time—lovingly.
One hand cupped my breast, the other curved gently around my neck—not choking, just claiming.
I threw my head back, riding him like a woman starved of love. The room echoed with wet, obscene sounds, the creak of the bed, our staggered moans.
"I—I'm coming—" I gasped.
And then I shattered—completely undone—as waves of release rolled through me. My body collapsed onto his chest, panting, trembling.
I didn't know when I fell asleep, but when I woke up, naked and sore in places I had long forgotten could ache, my body heavy with a strange sweetness, I blinked against the evening sunlight spilling into the hotel suite. The room was still, too quiet. I turned my head.
Vedant Khanna stood shirtless on the balcony, leaning casually against the railing, a cigarette pinched between his fingers. Smoke curled around his face as he stared out toward the sprawling garden and the empty pool shimmering below.
He looked—different. Harder. Older. But still sinfully, devastatingly beautiful.
I clutched the white sheet around my bare body and walked to him. I followed his gaze to the horizon, pretending not to notice the silence thickening between us.
"You didn't smoke back then," I said quietly, almost like a question.
He didn't look at me. Just exhaled a lazy breath of smoke. "People change," he said. "I didn't do a lot of things back then."
"When did you pick up such a habit?" I asked, the concern in my voice unmasked. Even if it made him more rugged, more alluring—it also made him look lost.
He finally glanced at me, brief and unreadable. "When you left," he replied. "I needed something to cope."
My breath hitched.
"I'm sorry," I whispered, looking down at my hands. "Vedant—I—I'm really sorry."
"Don't be," he said, forcing a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "You made your choice."
"No, Vedant. Let me apologize. I broke you," I admitted, the words burning my throat.
He turned toward me fully, folding his arms across his chest. "Don't pity me, Mrs. Banerjee."
It hurt the way he said it—that name, that title, as though Sohini had been buried somewhere and forgotten.
"Why don't you call me Sohini anymore?" I asked, voice trembling.
He chuckled, dark and bitter, as he brushed a loose strand of hair behind my ear. "Are you still my Sohini?"
I had no answer. Only silence.
"I never wanted to marry Ritwik," I said, swallowing the lump in my throat. "It was forced on me. My parents—"
He nodded slowly. "Oh, okay."
"Do you believe me?"
"Of course I believe you," he said with mock sweetness. "You didn't want to marry him, but you did. You wore his ring. His vermilion. You stood beside him in front of the gods and society. That's commitment, Soh—Mrs. Banerjee."
He grabbed my hand, lifting it, the gold ring catching the dusky sunlight. It felt heavier than ever. I wasn't just unfaithful. I was a liar. To Vedant. To Ritwik. To myself.
"I didn't have a choice!" I burst out. "I was cornered. My mother threatened to kill herself if I refused. My father said I'd bring shame to the family. What would you have done if your own blood said they'd die if you chose love?"
He stared at me, unreadable. "You did have a choice. You always did. You had me."
"And what would you have done? You don't know my father, Vedant! He would've disowned me. I—I thought I was protecting everyone."
"No. You were protecting yourself from discomfort. You didn't fight. You ran." His voice was razor-sharp now. "Your promises were lies. Your love was a lie. You destroyed everything. You ruined me—"
I flinched. "Ruined you? I made you. If I hadn't left, you wouldn't have become this—this successful. I was the reason you rose."
His eyes blazed. "Oh, so now I owe you for my success? You left because you were ashamed of me, didn't you?"
"That's not true!" I cried. I was never ashamed. I loved him.
"Then why did you choose him? Isn't Ritwik the dream husband? Educated. Settled. A perfect man to bring home to your father?"
He stepped closer, his lips brushing my ear. "You'll regret it, Sohini. Every second. I promise you that."
"Vedant?" I whispered, shocked by the fury in his voice. But he had already turned his back, pulling on his shirt, dialing a number on his phone.
"I want you in my office at seven tomorrow," he said without looking at me. And then he was gone.
The door shut behind him, and I collapsed. My knees gave out, and I broke into sobs. What have I done? I only ever wanted to be a good daughter. To make my parents proud—just once. To take away the shame they felt because of me. But I had paid the price. I lost myself. I lost Vedant.
When I got home, I locked myself in the bathroom and scrubbed my skin until it stung. But the guilt didn't wash off. It stuck to my bones. And when Ritwik appeared at the door, his warm, trusting smile made it worse.
"What's this on your neck?" he asked, reaching for the mark Vedant had left.
My breath caught. I bit my inner cheek. "Allergy," I lied. "Pineapple. I'm allergic."
"Then why eat it?"
"Sweta brought a fruit cake. I didn't know," I said with a forced smile.
"Be careful next time," he said, and I nodded.
"Sohini! Is dinner ready?" Baba called from the dining room.
"Just a minute!" I called back.
I looked at the ring on my finger. I was Mrs. Banerjee. A daughter-in-law. A wife. I had responsibilities. And I couldn't afford to mess up again. I couldn't ruin another life.
What happened between me and Vedant—was a mistake.
Just once.
I had to talk to him. Put an end to this madness before it swallowed me whole.
Maybe I wasn't Sohini anymore. Maybe I was never meant to be her again. I was Sohini Das Banerjee now.
And I had to live with that.