A single motion of his finger across the gusset of her panties had her toes curling and her stomach in free fall. Nayna had been dreaming and aching and fantasizing about him for so long that the simple friction of the lace against her skin as he explored her might well be enough to send her over.
Unable to stop the instinctive motions, she moved against him, rubbing and needy. He made a rumbling sound of approval in his chest, seemingly happy with her nonvocal encouragement.
“I fantasized about this,” he confessed as he continued to stroke her between her thighs. “After that night at the party—that night when I was nearly certain you weren’t wearing panties.”
Nayna shivered. “I wasn’t.”
A groan. “I dreamed about touching you like this and hearing you whimper. I told myself you’d be wet and silky for me.”
He so didn’t have to worry about that.
“This is better than my fantasy.” He kissed his way down the edge of her jaw to her mouth, at the same time using his free hand to tug down the cups of her bra.
Wrapping her arms around him because she loved kissing Raj as much as he seemed to love kissing her, Nayna jerked her hips against his hand when he stopped his petting. He started up again, going a little faster when she shifted impatiently.
Nayna felt wanton and wild and she loved it.
Suddenly needy for something she couldn’t put into words, she pressed down against his touch—he pushed back with the heel of his hand before withdrawing for a second, only to slip his hand inside her panties.
He speared two fingers through her flesh, pinning her clit in between.
Nayna’s cry was silent, her nails digging into his neck and the fingers of her free hand clenching on his biceps as her body tried to ride his hand. She should’ve been mortified and uncomfortable, but she couldn’t be, not with him encouraging her with rough whispers and private caresses that followed the movements of her body.
Right at the end, when she couldn’t stand it anymore, she gripped his wrist and guided him to exactly where she wanted the pressure.
The orgasm tore her apart. It was nothing like the sharp sweetness she’d experienced at her own hands. This was deeper, harder, a wrenching jolt that flowed over her in luscious, demanding waves.
* * *
Raj knew his decision to stay celibate until he found the woman who would be his was old-fashioned even in their culture. But as he watched Nayna’s face while her body rippled under his touch, her hand gripping convulsively at his wrist, he had zero regrets. It wouldn’t have changed anything if she’d been more experienced; it would’ve still been their first time together.
Exploring this new adventure with Nayna by his side, yeah, that felt good.
His own breathing was a ragged rasp by now, his heart a roar in his ears. He’d never seen anything more beautiful in his life. She was heat and woman, the dark brown of her skin flushed with a fine layer of perspiration, and on his fingers, she moved sweet and slick and goddamn perfect. His fantasies paled in comparison to the reality.
He couldn’t understand some of the things he’d heard on the work sites. More than one man had complained about how long it took to make a woman come. Hard work, they’d muttered, to a chorus of agreement. The women on the sites had added their own thoughts—that the vast majority of men were lazy bastards who just wanted to get off and who acted as if making a lover orgasm was a chore.
Raj loved watching Nayna lose it. He loved that he’d done this to her. And he loved the idea of learning all the different ways in which he could coax her to pleasure, his confident but shy Nayna with the reading glasses sitting on the bedside table.
Her lashes lifted, revealing eyes deep and dark and fuzzy with passion-drenched shock.
He stopped the motions of his hand even before she tugged at his wrist, guessing that she might be too sensitive now. It was, however, hard to take his hand from her flesh. He’d found his favorite instrument to play, his favorite hobby in which to indulge. He had the feeling he could do this with Nayna all day long.
Except for one thing—his cock was about to snap in two.
And Nayna looked so soft and sexy and erotic that he had no hope of resisting her.
Holding her gaze, he hooked his hands into the sides of her jeans and began to tug them off. She lazily lifted her hips so that he could strip her of the denim. Afterward, he gave himself a second to appreciate how sexy she looked in just her panties and with her nude breasts exposed and deliciously framed by the lines of her bra.
That was about as much control as he had.
Getting up, he tore off his jeans and underwear and threw them to the floor, then grabbed for one of the flat packets on the bedside table. A new awareness came into Nayna’s eyes, her gaze going to his as he finally got the damn thing open and began to roll it down his erection. His hands were trembling with need, and he’d been half afraid he’d mess it up.
Chucking aside the empty foil packet the instant he was done, he reached for the sides of her panties. She stiffened and he snapped up his eyes. But she relaxed almost at once and lifted her hips again in silent encouragement.
The scrap of lace joined the rest of their clothes on the floor.
Though he was trembling by the time he came between her thighs, he locked gazes with her once more and said, “Are you sure?” Nayna might want to break the rules, but she’d always before followed the traditional path. If she did this, she’d have to live with it. The last thing Raj wanted was for her to regret their first time together.
Never did he want Nayna to regret being with him.
“I’m very sure.” It was a soft statement, but there was no doubting her resolve, especially when she hooked one of her legs over his waist and arched her body into his.
Soft dampness rubbing against him, a lap of heat and musk.
Muscles trembling from his teeth-gritted attempt at control, he guided himself to the slick heat of her and nudged in.
She made a funny sound, and when he looked up, he saw that she was wide-eyed, her hands braced up against the headboard. “You feel… large.”
And even though Raj was about to totally lose his shit, he grinned. “That’s it, jaanam. Talk dirty to me.”
She laughed, husky and delighted.
On the verge of coming then and there, Raj clenched his jaw and pushed into her as slowly as he could manage. He did everything in his power not to hurt her even though he knew that was apt to be impossible.
When she made a sharp noise at one point, he hesitated, but a second later, she lifted her hips toward him and he just couldn’t hold it together anymore. He thrust the final inches into the heated tightness of her body, and when he looked up, her eyes were closed and her spine slightly arched. Lowering his head, he sucked her nipple into his mouth as he withdrew then thrust back in.
Once.
Twice.
And boom.
28
The Woman with No Panties
Nayna lay on her back in bed, the sheets pulled up to her neck and her bra straightened. She didn’t know why she’d done that when she wasn’t wearing panties—or anything else for that matter. Raj lay beside her, the sheets rumpled at his waist and one arm bent above his head. The other one he’d tucked under her head and kind of curled it across her chest.
Nayna liked that. It was cuddling. Even if he wouldn’t call it that, it definitely was. She’d been half afraid he’d just turn over and go to sleep, or maybe go into the shower. She’d read all those complaints from women who wrote in to the magazines, but Raj had only gotten up to dispose of the protection—after letting her use the bathroom first.
Unable to stop the instinctive motions, she moved against him, rubbing and needy. He made a rumbling sound of approval in his chest, seemingly happy with her nonvocal encouragement.
“I fantasized about this,” he confessed as he continued to stroke her between her thighs. “After that night at the party—that night when I was nearly certain you weren’t wearing panties.”
Nayna shivered. “I wasn’t.”
A groan. “I dreamed about touching you like this and hearing you whimper. I told myself you’d be wet and silky for me.”
He so didn’t have to worry about that.
“This is better than my fantasy.” He kissed his way down the edge of her jaw to her mouth, at the same time using his free hand to tug down the cups of her bra.
Wrapping her arms around him because she loved kissing Raj as much as he seemed to love kissing her, Nayna jerked her hips against his hand when he stopped his petting. He started up again, going a little faster when she shifted impatiently.
Nayna felt wanton and wild and she loved it.
Suddenly needy for something she couldn’t put into words, she pressed down against his touch—he pushed back with the heel of his hand before withdrawing for a second, only to slip his hand inside her panties.
He speared two fingers through her flesh, pinning her clit in between.
Nayna’s cry was silent, her nails digging into his neck and the fingers of her free hand clenching on his biceps as her body tried to ride his hand. She should’ve been mortified and uncomfortable, but she couldn’t be, not with him encouraging her with rough whispers and private caresses that followed the movements of her body.
Right at the end, when she couldn’t stand it anymore, she gripped his wrist and guided him to exactly where she wanted the pressure.
The orgasm tore her apart. It was nothing like the sharp sweetness she’d experienced at her own hands. This was deeper, harder, a wrenching jolt that flowed over her in luscious, demanding waves.
* * *
Raj knew his decision to stay celibate until he found the woman who would be his was old-fashioned even in their culture. But as he watched Nayna’s face while her body rippled under his touch, her hand gripping convulsively at his wrist, he had zero regrets. It wouldn’t have changed anything if she’d been more experienced; it would’ve still been their first time together.
Exploring this new adventure with Nayna by his side, yeah, that felt good.
His own breathing was a ragged rasp by now, his heart a roar in his ears. He’d never seen anything more beautiful in his life. She was heat and woman, the dark brown of her skin flushed with a fine layer of perspiration, and on his fingers, she moved sweet and slick and goddamn perfect. His fantasies paled in comparison to the reality.
He couldn’t understand some of the things he’d heard on the work sites. More than one man had complained about how long it took to make a woman come. Hard work, they’d muttered, to a chorus of agreement. The women on the sites had added their own thoughts—that the vast majority of men were lazy bastards who just wanted to get off and who acted as if making a lover orgasm was a chore.
Raj loved watching Nayna lose it. He loved that he’d done this to her. And he loved the idea of learning all the different ways in which he could coax her to pleasure, his confident but shy Nayna with the reading glasses sitting on the bedside table.
Her lashes lifted, revealing eyes deep and dark and fuzzy with passion-drenched shock.
He stopped the motions of his hand even before she tugged at his wrist, guessing that she might be too sensitive now. It was, however, hard to take his hand from her flesh. He’d found his favorite instrument to play, his favorite hobby in which to indulge. He had the feeling he could do this with Nayna all day long.
Except for one thing—his cock was about to snap in two.
And Nayna looked so soft and sexy and erotic that he had no hope of resisting her.
Holding her gaze, he hooked his hands into the sides of her jeans and began to tug them off. She lazily lifted her hips so that he could strip her of the denim. Afterward, he gave himself a second to appreciate how sexy she looked in just her panties and with her nude breasts exposed and deliciously framed by the lines of her bra.
That was about as much control as he had.
Getting up, he tore off his jeans and underwear and threw them to the floor, then grabbed for one of the flat packets on the bedside table. A new awareness came into Nayna’s eyes, her gaze going to his as he finally got the damn thing open and began to roll it down his erection. His hands were trembling with need, and he’d been half afraid he’d mess it up.
Chucking aside the empty foil packet the instant he was done, he reached for the sides of her panties. She stiffened and he snapped up his eyes. But she relaxed almost at once and lifted her hips again in silent encouragement.
The scrap of lace joined the rest of their clothes on the floor.
Though he was trembling by the time he came between her thighs, he locked gazes with her once more and said, “Are you sure?” Nayna might want to break the rules, but she’d always before followed the traditional path. If she did this, she’d have to live with it. The last thing Raj wanted was for her to regret their first time together.
Never did he want Nayna to regret being with him.
“I’m very sure.” It was a soft statement, but there was no doubting her resolve, especially when she hooked one of her legs over his waist and arched her body into his.
Soft dampness rubbing against him, a lap of heat and musk.
Muscles trembling from his teeth-gritted attempt at control, he guided himself to the slick heat of her and nudged in.
She made a funny sound, and when he looked up, he saw that she was wide-eyed, her hands braced up against the headboard. “You feel… large.”
And even though Raj was about to totally lose his shit, he grinned. “That’s it, jaanam. Talk dirty to me.”
She laughed, husky and delighted.
On the verge of coming then and there, Raj clenched his jaw and pushed into her as slowly as he could manage. He did everything in his power not to hurt her even though he knew that was apt to be impossible.
When she made a sharp noise at one point, he hesitated, but a second later, she lifted her hips toward him and he just couldn’t hold it together anymore. He thrust the final inches into the heated tightness of her body, and when he looked up, her eyes were closed and her spine slightly arched. Lowering his head, he sucked her nipple into his mouth as he withdrew then thrust back in.
Once.
Twice.
And boom.
28
The Woman with No Panties
Nayna lay on her back in bed, the sheets pulled up to her neck and her bra straightened. She didn’t know why she’d done that when she wasn’t wearing panties—or anything else for that matter. Raj lay beside her, the sheets rumpled at his waist and one arm bent above his head. The other one he’d tucked under her head and kind of curled it across her chest.
Nayna liked that. It was cuddling. Even if he wouldn’t call it that, it definitely was. She’d been half afraid he’d just turn over and go to sleep, or maybe go into the shower. She’d read all those complaints from women who wrote in to the magazines, but Raj had only gotten up to dispose of the protection—after letting her use the bathroom first.
