Chapter 2: Now jealousy of siddharth
The cracked plaster ceiling swam into focus. Parineeti blinked, her eyelids heavy as sandbags. Every single muscle screamed in protest – a deep, satisfying ache that radiated from her core outwards. The scent hit her next: sweat, sex, and Siddharth’s distinct, musky cologne clinging stubbornly to the tangled sheets beneath her. She was sprawled naked on his narrow hostel bed, limbs loose, skin still humming.
A low groan escaped her as she shifted. Twenty-three rounds. The number echoed in her hazy mind, a testament to the raw, almost feral energy that had consumed them both. She remembered the sting of the handcuffs on his headboard biting into her wrists earlier, the possessive fury in his eyes when he’d dragged her from the classroom, Chinmayee’s mocking laughter still ringing in her ears. Remembered Mohit’s easy smile before Siddharth exploded.
"Awake?" His voice was a low rumble beside her, rough with sleep and something else. Possession. She turned her head slowly. Siddharth lay on his side, propped up on one elbow, watching her. Moonlight filtering through the thin curtain caught the sharp line of his jaw, the intensity in his dark eyes. He looked devastatingly handsome, the cold, aloof school god stripped bare, physically and emotionally. His gaze traced the curve of her shoulder, down to the faint, purpling marks where his fingers had gripped her hips with brutal strength. A flicker of something – guilt? concern? – crossed his face before vanishing, replaced by that smouldering heat.
"Feel like I got hit by the college bus," she murmured, her voice raspy. "Twice." A small, involuntary shiver ran through her, less from cold and more from the sheer, overwhelming memory of his touch, his demands. Beg for me. Tell me who you belong to.
He didn't smile. His hand reached out, calloused fingertips brushing a strand of damp hair from her forehead. The gentleness of the gesture, so starkly different from the punishing force of hours before, made her breath catch. "Shower?" he asked simply.
She nodded, the movement sending fresh waves of soreness through her neck. He swung his legs off the bed with predatory grace, the muscles in his back and shoulders rippling under smooth skin. Parineeti watched him pad naked across the small, cluttered room – textbooks piled haphazardly, a faded band poster peeling off the wall, the silver glint of the handcuffs still dangling from the wrought-iron headboard. He turned on the tiny ensuite shower. The sound of rushing water filled the sudden silence.
He returned, offering a hand. She took it, wincing slightly as she pushed herself up. Her legs felt like jelly. He steadied her, his arm slipping around her waist, pulling her close against the solid warmth of his body. The unspoken intimacy of it, standing naked and sore in the dim room, felt more profound than anything before.
The shower cubicle was cramped. Steam quickly fogged the plastic curtain, clinging to their skin. Siddharth guided her under the hot spray. She leaned her forehead against the cool tile, letting the water sluice away the physical remnants of their desperate coupling. His hands moved over her back, massaging the knots in her shoulders, sliding down to the curve of her waist, his touch unexpectedly tender. Water streamed down his chest, over the defined ridges of his abdomen, dripping from his dark hair.
Parineeti closed her eyes, leaning into his touch. The confusion, the unspoken questions, churned beneath the surface of her exhaustion and lingering pleasure. "Sid," she whispered, the sound almost lost in the hiss of water.
"Hmm?" His hands stilled on her hips.
"Why?" She turned to face him, water plastering her hair to her cheeks. "Why did you… explode like that? With Mohit? With Chinmayee?" The memory of his jealousy, the terrifying possessiveness, was as vivid as the ache between her thighs. "You pushed me away before. Said I wasn't your type." She echoed his polite dismissal of Chinmayee, the one that had sent her spiralling into Mohit's orbit.
His gaze darkened, the possessiveness flashing back, fierce and immediate. His grip tightened on her hips, not painfully, but with unmistakable intensity. "Seeing you laugh with him," he growled, his voice low and dangerous even over the water. "Him touching you. Chinmayee smirking, thinking she could get to you…" He shook his head, water droplets flying. "Couldn't fucking stand it, Pari. Like something snapped."
"But you didn't want me," she pressed, searching his face. The vulnerability she saw warring with the intensity startled her. "Not before."
"I always wanted you," he admitted, the words ripped from him. He pushed her back gently against the tile, caging her in with his arms, his body radiating heat. The steam made his skin slick. "From the first day you argued with me in Bio about that stupid frog dissection. That fire in your eyes." He leaned in, his lips brushing the shell of her ear, sending shivers down her spine that had nothing to do with the water. "But this… this thing inside me…" He gestured vaguely, frustration lacing his voice. "When I want something, Pari, I take. Hard. Rough. I thought… I thought I’d scare you. Ruin you. Like some fucking animal." His jaw clenched. "That’s why I pushed you away. Thought it was… safer."
Parineeti reached up, tracing the sharp line of his jaw, her thumb brushing over his bottom lip. She saw the conflict in his eyes – the fear of his own intensity warring with the fierce need to claim her. "Did I look scared tonight?" she challenged softly, a hint of her own fire returning. "Did I look ruined?" She moved her hips subtly against his. A low groan rumbled deep in his chest. "I loved it, Sid." Her voice dropped to a husky whisper, echoing the moans he’d torn from her hours before. "Loved every fucking second of you losing control. Loved begging you for more. Loved you… making me yours." The words hung in the steamy air.
His eyes blazed. All traces of doubt vanished, replaced by pure, primal hunger. He crushed his mouth to hers, the kiss deep, claiming, tasting of steam and desperate need. His hands slid down, gripping her ass, lifting her effortlessly. She wrapped her legs around his waist, slick skin sliding against skin.
"Say it again," he demanded against her lips, his voice thick. "Who do you belong to, Parineeti?" He punctuated the question with a rough grind of his hips, his erection pressing insistently against her core.
She gasped, arching into him, the hot water cascading over them both. "You!" she cried out, the admission ripped from her as pleasure sparked anew. "Yours, Sid! Only yours! Daddy… please…" The unexpected honorific, born of the heat and the moment and his overwhelming dominance, slipped out.
A feral sound escaped him. He thrust against her, hard, the tile cool against her back, his heat searing her front. "Mine," he growled, biting down possessively on the pulse point at her throat. "Every fucking part of you." He moved again, the friction exquisite torture. "Tell me you want it. Now."
"God, yes!" she moaned, nails digging into his shoulders. "Want you! Need you! More, Sid, please…"
He didn't need further invitation. He shifted, bracing her against the wall, and with one powerful thrust, buried himself inside her again. The cry that tore from her throat was pure ecstasy mixed with the shock of renewed sensation on her already sensitized body. The water beat down, mingling with their gasps and moans as he drove into her with relentless, possessive strokes, reclaiming her all over again in the steamy, cramped sanctuary, the world outside – Chinmayee, Mohit, the taunts – utterly forgotten in the consuming fire of them. His rhythm was punishing, possessive, each thrust demanding her surrender, reinforcing his claim with visceral intensity. She met him thrust for thrust, her moans echoing off the tiles, lost in the raw, unvarnished truth of their collision. The hostel room, the handcuffs, the seven-hour bus ride that started it all… it all narrowed down to this steam-filled cubicle, the slap of wet skin, Siddharth’s growls of ownership, and Parineeti’s breathless pleas for more, faster, harder, wrapping around the single, undeniable truth.
He came with a roar, shuddering against her, pressing her hard into the tile. She followed instantly, her climax crashing over her in sharp, shattering waves, her cry muffled against his wet shoulder. They slumped together under the still-pouring water, breathing ragged, hearts hammering against each other, the steam thick with the scent of sex and sweat and something terrifyingly new.
Slowly, he lowered her. Her legs trembled violently. He turned off the water, the sudden silence amplifying their harsh breaths. He reached for a thin towel, drying her with surprising care, his touch lingering on the bruises he’d left, his expression unreadable but intense. He dried himself quickly, then wrapped a towel around his waist before handing her one.
Back in the room, the air felt cooler. He lit a cigarette perched precariously on a stack of books by the narrow window, cracking it open. The sharp scent of tobacco cut through the damp air. Parineeti pulled on his discarded t-shirt, the fabric swallowing her, smelling overwhelmingly of him. She watched him, the moonlight catching the planes of his face as he took a long drag, the glowing ember illuminating the stark possessiveness still lingering in his eyes. The tenderness in the shower warred with the memory of his ferocity, the echo of his demands – Who do you belong to? – still vibrating in her bones.
He offered her the cigarette. She took it, her fingers brushing his. She inhaled deeply, the smoke harsh but grounding. They sat side by side on the edge of the battered mattress, not touching, the silence stretching, filled with the immensity of what had just happened – twice – and the unspoken words hanging heavy in the air.
He finally spoke, his voice rough, his gaze fixed on the glowing tip of the cigarette. "So." A long pause. The college grounds outside were quiet. "What now, Pari?" He didn't look at her, but the question was loaded, vulnerable beneath its casual delivery. It asked about Chinmayee, about Mohit, about the terrifying beast he’d unleashed and the terrifying confession she’d mirrored. It asked about everything. The shared cigarette passed back to him, its ember burning bright in the dim hostel room, the only answer for now.