Chapter 9

[If you are a new reader: Welcome! You’ve arrived at a critical moment in this story. The characters have made choices that cannot be unmade, and the consequences are about to converge in devastating ways. To fully understand the history—the secret marriage, the staged affair, the desires that were never supposed to surface ... I recommend starting with Chapter 1.

For our returning readers: Thank you for being on this journey with me! When we last left our characters, Nitin had sacrificed his marriage on the altar of ambition. Komal moved into Rahul’s penthouse, playing the role of girlfriend with increasing comfort. Rahul became CEO of Hotel Sapphire and promoted Komal to “Special Advisor”, a position that keeps her by his side indefinitely. Nitin, humiliated and desperate, offered to become Rahul’s ‘personal concierge,’ even agreeing to serve them during an upcoming safari retreat. As the countdown to the trip begins, all three are about to discover that some games have no winners.

Thank you for reading. The clock is ticking.

~BhagiRath]

Komal Narrates: 14 Days to the Safari Trip

“Nitin, can you send up a bottle of the 25-year-old Macallan to our room, Rahul has been talking about it all day. And be quick about it.”

Nitin looked at me in surprise, with a bit of hurt evident in his eyes.

I felt bad for him. I guess I hadn’t realized that he’d feel so offended, but then again ... his own wife, ordering him to get drinks delivered to her lover’s room - that would do it!

I closed the door quickly, unable to look at his face any longer.

Besides, I had other things on my mind at the moment.

Just before we were interrupted by Nutty and his grand gesture, of becoming Rahul’s ‘personal concierge’, Rahul was in the middle of giving me one of the best orgasms of my life.

What even was that?

A desperate plea to prove himself as a ... personal concierge?

It seemed like the most convoluted path to GM I could imagine.

And why would Rahul even allow this farce?”

What was Rahul thinking? And more importantly what the hell was Nutty thinking?

I walked into the inner room and saw Rahul on the phone with someone. He was facing the window, looking out at the city.

“ ... tell Cathy to send over the marketing plans to me tomorrow.” Rahul said, rubbing his temples, a deep frown evident on his forehead.

A work call. From Sapphire’s Johannesburg branch to be precise. The ‘pain in the ass’ branch, as Rahul calls it. Underperforming, bleeding money, bad customer reviews.

I knew Rahul would be stressed after this call. Johannesburg often did that to him.

He really wanted to prove himself to his dad, and this branch was the true test.

It struck me just then, that both the men in my life had the same fundamental thing driving them. They each wanted to prove something to their fathers.

With Nitin, it was the life long verbal abuses and humiliations of being called “good-for-nothing” failure. As the village teacher’s son, everyone expected a lot from Nitin, but none more than his own father. But Nitin was not inclined academically, in fact he was far from it. Repeating several grades, hanging out with the ‘wrong’ crowd, and finally getting caught by the village hawaldar stealing liquor bottles - these cardinal sins drove a permanent wedge between father and son.

After our wedding, Nitin’s father had softened, but Nitin still held on to his pride. He wanted to prove to his father that he was not a “good-for-nothing” failure. He believed that by earning more money in an year than his father had ever seen in his life, would prove this point. A promotion to GM would do this ... and more.

And as for Rahul ... what drove him was shedding his spoilt brat, playboy persona, especially in his father’s eyes. Rahul doesn’t like to speak about his mother, but I knew that it was just him and his father, growing up. And while female attention was easy to come by for Rahul, his father’s approval was not.

His coming to the Delhi branch was not by chance. He was being groomed for CEO from day one. But his father was watching, and turning around the struggling Johannesburg branch—that would be the true test.

Rahul had started pacing in the bathroom now, his stress evident. I was sure someone must’ve messed up, yet again, in the Johannesburg branch.

I didn’t want him in a bad mood. Not when he still owed me an orgasm!

There was only one way to rescue his mood.

Rahul stopped pacing when he saw me. He watched me walk to him and strip my robe off, revealing my whole self to him.

A smile formed on his face, despite the frown on his forehead as I bent down at my knees and opened his robe.

Out came his cock, flaccid yet thick and heavy. I put my hands on his thighs for support, and leaned in, my lips parting as I enveloped the head of his cock into my wet mouth.

Within a few seconds of my warm, wet mouth wrapped around his shaft, I felt his cock twitch and come to life.

I loved this part.

I loved how quickly Rahul’s cock grew in my mouth, how fast it would outgrow my mouth and force its way into my throat, making me gag.

Although I had noticed I wasn’t gagging as much these days. My body was getting used to Rahul—in every way.

His cock had stretched me beyond what I thought was possible. My pussy and my ass, re-shaped to accommodate him - thoroughly his, and only his.

I was doubtful if I’d even feel Nutty’s cock in me again.

That thought used to make me quite sad, but it was becoming less and less of an issue for me.

I increased the pace, sucking Rahul’s cock with a hunger I didn’t know I had.

“ ... uhh ... June ... listen ... umm ... are we done ... ohh ... can we talk about it tomorrow?” Rahul was struggling on the phone now. His fingers were tangled in my hair now, but he wasn’t stopping me.

Somehow, knowing that just a few minutes ago, my husband was begging my lover for a chance to prove himself, offering himself in servitude to him, made me want to suck Rahul’s cock even harder.

There was a twisted depravity in our situation ... Nutty and mine.

That day ... the day Rahul was announced as the CEO ... Nutty had begged me to go back to Rahul. ‘Continue being his girlfriend’, Nitin had said.

Well, that’s what I was being. In every conceivable sense of the way.

I held nothing back, nothing was off limits to my ‘boyfriend’ Rahul.

I was just playing a part. A part that my own husband had asked me to play. Well, this part is that of a slutty, no limits, do-anything-for-my-boyfriend type of girlfriend.

And frankly, I was enjoying the heck out of playing this role.

Maybe one day when I can finally stop playing this part, then ... then I’ll go back to being the conservative Indian wife I once was.

Until then...

I swirled my tongue around the thick head of Rahul’s cock, feeling the veins against my lips. I pulled back his foreskin and flicked the tip of my tongue against his slit, tasting the pre-cum that had already started leaking out.

I loved this part even more.

Rahul’s taste. That’ll be the thing I’ll miss the most perhaps, once this was all over. I’d become hooked to his taste even before I’d moved in with Rahul. But in the last two weeks, he’d fed me his juices at least twice every day.

Waking him up with a blowjob had become my daily ritual.

I loved the way Rahul would groan, his voice thick with sleep as he realized my lips were wrapped around his cock.

Those were the moments I felt the most powerful. The CEO of Hotel Sapphire, heir to the Sapphire Resorts empire, playboy millionaire - putty in my hands. Or rather, in my mouth.

With a simple moan over his cock, a simple flick of my tongue I could make this powerful man’s day. And I did. Every single day, since I moved in with him.

If I was going to play the part of a girlfriend, I was going to be a goddamn perfect one!

“ ... listen June ... ahh ... I really have to go ... tell John ... I mean Cathy to ... uh ... send those faxes over!” Rahul practically screamed into the phone before cutting the call.

He tightened his grip on my hair, and held my head tight, forcing me to stop sucking him.

“Oh fuck ... I love it when you do this Komal!”

“Was I good, baby?” I ask, making an innocent face, looking up at him, still on my knees.

“Oh you know you were good ... but also awfully bad! You need to be punished!”

“I was waiting for you to say that ... you need to finish what you started, Mr. Oberoi!”

Rahul smiled.

He pulled me up to my feet and dragged me by my hair to the sofa outside. I’d started to like when he got rough with me like this.

He put his hand between my shoulders and pushed me forward, bending me over the thick cushioned arm of the sofa. I gasped as I tipped over the arm, my stomach and chest landing on the cushion, my hips bent over the raised edge. My feet were still on the floor, but my upper body was draped across the seat, my face pressed into the fabric.

His hands were on my hips, pulling me back toward him, positioning me exactly where he wanted me. His hand slid between my legs, and I was already wet. His fingers found me, parted me, and I moaned into the cushion.

“Rahul...”

“You like this,” he said. It wasn’t a question.

His fingers moved in slow circles, teasing, building my anticipation. I pressed my face harder into the sofa, my fingers gripping the fabric. The angle made me feel exposed, vulnerable, bent over for him, unable to see what he was doing, only able to feel.

“Tell me you want it,” he said.

“I want it.”

“Tell me you’re mine.”

“I’m yours Rahul ... only yours!” the words just flew out of my mouth. I wasn’t thinking. I didn’t want to.

I realized that I was drooling on the exact place where Nitin was sitting minutes ago, declaring that I was only Rahul’s.

But I didn’t get to think about the irony of it, I was distracted by Rahul’s cock pressed against my entrance.

He pushed inside with one slow, deliberate thrust. I cried out, the sound muffled by the cushion.

He held there for a moment, letting me feel the fullness, the stretch. Then he began to move.

The angle was different like this. Deeper. The arm of the sofa held my hips at just the right height, and each thrust pushed me forward into the cushion, then pulled me back onto him. I had no leverage, no control. I was bent over, held in place, taking everything he gave me.

“You feel so good, Komal” he groaned behind me.

His hand slid up my back, pressing me down harder into the sofa. His other hand gripped my hip, his fingers digging into my flesh, pulling me onto him with each thrust.

I was gasping now, moaning, the sounds escaping before I could stop them. The friction was building, the pleasure coiling low in my belly, tighter and tighter.

“Rahul ... jaanu ... I’m...”

“Wait,” he said.

His hand left my hip and slid around to the front, finding my clit. He began to rub in tight circles as he thrust, and the combination was too much.

I couldn’t wait. I came hard, my body arching over the arm of the sofa, my hands fisting the fabric, a scream tearing from my throat.

He didn’t stop. He kept moving through my orgasm, his rhythm faster now, harder, chasing his own release. I felt another wave building before the first had even faded.

“Again,” he said. “Come for me again.”

And I did.

I shattered a second time, and this time he followed me over the edge. He drove into me one last time and held, a groan tearing from his throat, his hands gripping my hips so hard I knew I’d have bruises tomorrow.

We stayed like that for a long moment, both of us breathing hard, my body still draped over the arm of the sofa.

Then he pulled out slowly, and I felt the loss of him. My legs were shaky, barely able to hold me. He helped me stand, turned me around, and kissed me ... soft this time, tender. Then he took me by my hand to his bed.

Afterward, we lay tangled together on the bed, my head on his chest. Outside, it had started to rain - a soft, steady drizzle that tapped against the windows. The city lights blurred behind the droplets, and the room was lit only by a dim lamp in the corner, casting everything in a warm glow.

It felt intimate. Quiet. Like we were the only two people in the world.

Rahul’s fingers traced lazy patterns on my shoulder. I could hear his heartbeat, slow and steady beneath my ear.

“The safari trip in two weeks,” he said, his voice low. “I want it to be special. A mini-honeymoon, just the two of us.”

I lifted my head to look at him. “A honeymoon?”

“That’s what I said.” He smiled. “Three days. Two nights. No work, no distractions. Just us.”

“But you invited the entire staff of Hotel Sapphire,” I reminded him. “It’s a corporate retreat jaanu, not a honeymoon.” I smiled.

He shrugged. “The staff will have their own activities. Team building, games. And besides...” his smile turned slightly mischievous, “ ... we’ll have our personal concierge ensuring we find plenty of ... personal time.”

Personal concierge. Nitin.

I should have felt something at the mention - guilt, perhaps, or unease. But all I felt was a flutter of anticipation.

“I’m excited,” I said, and I meant it.

“Good.”

He reached behind him, to the side table where he’d set something earlier. A small velvet box appeared in his hand.

“I have something for you.”

I sat up, pulling the bed covers around me to cover myself. “What is this?”

“Open it.”

I opened the box. Inside was a necklace ... a delicate gold chain with a single diamond pendant that caught the dim light, sparkling softly.

It was beautiful. And I knew exactly where I’d seen it before.

“Rahul...” I breathed. “This is ... I only mentioned it once. Weeks ago. We were passing that jewelry store in Khan Market, and I saw it in the window and said it was beautiful. I didn’t even think you were listening.”

“I listen to everything you say, Komal.”

The words landed softly, but I felt them deeply.

“Will you put it on me?” I asked.

I let the sheet fall from my shoulders, exposing my bare skin to the cool air. I turned slightly, lifting my hair, giving him access to my neck.

He took the necklace from the box. I felt his fingers brush against my skin as he fastened the clasp - gentle, careful. The diamond settled in the hollow of my throat, cool at first, then warming to my body.