Rhea lay naked beside Shruti, her fingers still brushing gently over Shruti's trembling belly. The scent of sweat, arousal, and surrender thickened the air. Shruti's body was still jerking faintly in aftershocks — every now and then a whispered "Haa... bas... aur nahi..." spilling from her lips.
But Rhea knew better.Shruti was never done.Not with her.
She leaned in, kissing her softly. "Tu thak gayi?"
Shruti let out a tired laugh, eyes half-lidded. "Tere saath to meri rooh bhi thak ke sukoon me chali jaati hai..."
And yet, she didn't turn away when Rhea's hand slowly moved between her thighs again. She just gasped, her legs parting instinctively.
"Pagal aurat..."
Outside the balcony, Aman was no longer there.
He had gone down the stairs quietly, his face expressionless. His mind, however, was chaos.
His feet carried him to the guest bedroom. He didn't want to be near his wife right now.Or maybe he wanted to be closer than ever — but not as a husband.As a spectator.
As a ghost in his own house.
He poured himself a drink with shaking hands. The whisky felt warm in his throat, but it didn't burn away the ache between his legs or the growing realization — Shruti's not mine anymore.
And the worst part?
I don't want her back.He just wanted to watch her be taken. Again. And again.
Meanwhile, in the dim-lit bedroom, Rhea pulled Shruti onto her lap."Tujhe pata hai... jab tu moan karti hai na... meri saans ruk jaati hai."
Shruti chuckled, still dazed."Tu har baar mujhe pagal kyun bana deti hai?"
Rhea looked at her, serious now."Main sirf tujhe kholti hoon, Shruti.Woh sab kuch jo tu chhupake rakhti hai duniya se... apne pati se... apne aap se bhi..."
Shruti's eyes darkened. The mention of Aman, even indirectly, pulled her heart in strange directions.
Guilt.Thrill.And something crueler — the knowing that he heard.
She turned her face into Rhea's neck."Tumhare saath... main zinda mehsoos karti hoon."
Rhea's fingers slipped lower again.
"Toh phir... chalo zinda karte hain tujhe ek baar aur."
This time the moan was deeper.More broken."Rhea... bas... nahi... phir se..."Her voice cracking as Rhea's tongue pushed lower, tasting the echoes of what they'd already done.
"Aaaaahhhhhh... Rhea...kutti... pagal hai tu... ruk..."
But Rhea didn't.She fed on her like she was starved.Shruti's thighs trembled.Her moans turned guttural, layered with Hindi, laced with filth, soaked in emotion:
"Main toot rahi hoon... haan... aahhh... meri chut... meri chut jal rahi hai... Rhea... tu rakh le mujhe... rakh le hamesha ke liye..."
Her head rolled back.
And then it came—That unfiltered cry, that almost savage release.
The night was thick, damp with a heat that rose not from the monsoon-soaked ground, but from the walls of Shruti's body, arched over the bed as Rhea kissed her spine with deliberate wetness.
"तू आज कुछ ज़्यादा ही गीली लग रही है…" Rhea murmured, sliding her tongue lower.
Shruti bit down on a gasp, her hands gripping the sheets.
"मत छेड़..." she whispered, voice tremulous with a half-laugh, half-moan. But her hips betrayed her, rising into Rhea's mouth.
Aman stood behind the sliver of the half-open door, chest rising fast, his hand gripping the edge of the wooden frame so tightly his knuckles had gone white. His jaw clenched, but his eyes—dark, hungry, shamefully transfixed—didn't blink. His wife, his beautiful wife, writhed under another woman, soaked and opened in a way he hadn't seen in years.
"Rhea… तू जानती है न, मैं सिर्फ़ तुझे चाहती हूँ…" Shruti whimpered.
"तेरे बदन से झूठ नहीं बोला जा सकता, जानू..." Rhea said between licks, her fingers now slick, thrusting deep and rhythmically.
Shruti's moans became guttural, "आह… हाँ… और… अंदर तक…!"
Aman unzipped slowly, almost ritualistically. He hated himself for watching. But he couldn't stop. There was something about Shruti's naked desperation that made his knees weak—something he'd never been able to summon from her himself.
Inside, Shruti's eyes fluttered, her toes curled. Rhea had positioned herself now fully between her legs, her lips soaking in Shruti's scent, her tongue slow, then brutal.
"तेरी चूत में खुदा बसा है, Shruti," Rhea growled, "और मैं उसका इबादत कर रही हूँ…"
Shruti's body jerked, a cry erupting like thunder: "ओह्ह्ह Rhea… चूस… मत रुक… मत…!"
Aman nearly gasped aloud.
But Shruti couldn't hear anything beyond the sound of her own heartbeat, her body convulsing as the orgasm ripped through her in waves—eyes squeezed shut, thighs trembling.
Rhea didn't stop.
She savored.
Shruti collapsed on the bed, breath ragged, face glazed with sweat and satisfaction. "इतना कोई कैसे जान सकता है मेरी चूत को..." she whispered.
Rhea crawled up beside her, brushing damp hair from her face. "क्योंकि तू मेरी है, Shruti..."
There was a silence, a fragile, sticky silence.
But beyond the door, Aman backed away slowly, breathing heavily, conflicted. A part of him was burning. Another part… was aroused beyond comprehension.
He hadn't touched her in weeks.
But tonight… he had watched her come alive.