Chapter 3: Love begins 🌶️

The taste of him, salty and sharp and hers, still coated her tongue as she finished licking his fingers clean. She sucked the last droplet from his thumb, her eyes locked on his, dark with a submission so complete it stole his breath. A soft, melodic chime echoed through the apartment.

Two AM.

The sound seemed to break a spell. Siddharth’s body, which had been a lazy, sated warmth beside her on the ruined sheets, tensed. He pulled his hand gently from her mouth.

“Wait here,” he said, his voice rough from use.

He rolled off the bed, his naked form a silhouette of powerful muscle in the dim light. He walked out of the bedroom without a backward glance.

Minakshi’s heart clenched. Did I do something wrong? Was I not good enough? The fear was cold, sharp, cutting through the warm haze of her exhaustion. She struggled to sit up, her body protesting with a thousand delicious aches. The sticky evidence of their fucking cooled on her thighs. She was about to swing her legs over the side of the bed when he returned.

He stood in the doorway, fully naked, and the sight made her mouth water anew. His lund hung thick and heavy between his legs, already semi-hard again just from her gaze. Water droplets glistened on his shoulders and chest. He must have splashed his face. He chuckled, a low, warm sound that dispelled her fears.

“Thinking of running away, my greedy little randi?” he asked, walking toward her.

“Never, hubby,” she breathed.

He leaned down, his hands sliding under her arms and knees, and lifted her as if she weighed nothing. He brought her close, giving her a soft, reassuring peck on the lips—a tenderness that felt foreign and immense after the night’s brutality. Then he cradled her against his chest and carried her out of the room.

The bathroom was softly lit, steam already fogging the mirrors. A large, deep soaking tub was filling, the water letting out a gentle gurgle. Tendrils of steam rose, carrying a faint, clean scent. Siddharth gently set her down on the tiled ledge beside the tub. He tested the water with his elbow, then his hand, his face a mask of concentration.

“Perfect,” he murmured.

He dropped a dark red bath bomb into the water. It fizzed and swirled, dissolving into a cascade of crimson that turned the water a deep, translucent pink, releasing the tart, sweet scent of cranberries. He turned off the tap, the silence sudden and intimate.

“Come,” he said, his voice gentle.

He helped her stand, his hands firm on her hips as she stepped over the high rim and sank into the luxurious heat. The water was heavenly, enveloping her sore muscles, seeping into her bones. A moan escaped her lips.

“Aah... ”

Siddharth climbed in behind her, settling with his back against the sloped end. He guided her to sit between his legs, her back against his chest. The water rose to just below her breasts. His arms came around her, and he simply held her for a long moment, his chin resting on her damp hair. His cock, now fully hard, pressed against the small of her back, a persistent, thrilling promise.

“My good girl,” he whispered into her ear, his breath warm. “You took everything I gave you. Bohot acha kiya.” [You did very well.]

The praise sank into her deeper than the warm water. She melted against him, a soft sigh leaving her lips. His good girl. That was all she wanted to be.

He reached for a soft, sea sponge and a bottle of vanilla-scented body wash. He poured a generous amount onto the sponge, working it into a rich lather. He started with her shoulders, his hands moving in slow, circular motions, kneading the tension from her muscles. His touch was worshipful, thorough. He washed her arms, each finger, paying attention to every curve.

Then the sponge glided over her collarbones and down to her chest. He cupped her left chuche in his palm, the sponge circling her nipple with maddening slowness. The rough texture of the sponge against her sensitive peak made her gasp. He did the same to the other, his fingers tweaking the nipple as he washed around it.