Chapter 21: Ria awakening
The suite was all dark wood and cool marble, a world away from the cramped plane and the moving car. "Dance for us, Saumya," Vishal commanded, pouring a drink as he settled into a low sofa. My didi, usually so reserved, began to move, her hips swaying to a silent rhythm that made my own skin feel hot. I copied her, my movements shyer, undoing the buttons of my blouse with trembling fingers. "Good girl," Vishal murmured, his eyes dark with approval as I let the fabric fall. Saumya came to me then, her hands helping me with the clasp of my skirt, her touch clinical yet intimate. "It will hurt," she whispered, her breath a ghost against my ear, "but only for a moment." I nodded, my heart a frantic drum against my ribs as I helped undress them both, my hands clumsy on his belt, my fingers fumbling with the silk of her sari. When he was finally above me, his weight a terrifying promise, Saumya guided my hips. "Relax, Ria," she instructed, her voice strangely flat. The initial pressure was immense, a stretching, tearing sensation that stole my breath. I cried out, a short, sharp sound, as he pushed past the final barrier. The pain was a bright, searing line, so much more than I had imagined. He didn't stop, his rhythm steady and relentless, his gaze locked on my tear-streaked face. Saumya watched, her expression unreadable, a silent sentinel to my surrender.
Then his rhythm changed, becoming something deeper, and the sharp pain began to dissolve into a strange, warm friction. "See?" Saumya whispered, her hand stroking my hair with an unexpected tenderness that felt nothing like the car. "The worst is over." Her other hand slid down my stomach, her fingers finding a rhythm against me that made me gasp, my back arching off the silk sheets. I watched, mesmerized, as she leaned over to kiss Vishal, her mouth hungry and open, a side of my didi I had never imagined. "You're both so beautiful," he groaned, his hips driving into me with renewed purpose, his eyes flicking between her face and mine. The room filled with the sounds of our breathing, sharp and ragged, a trio of need that erased everything else. I felt myself clenching around him, that tight coil from the plane and the car winding impossibly tighter now inside me. "Let it happen, Ria," Saumya urged, her voice husky, her own body moving against his side. And I did, a wave crashing through me so violently I saw stars, my cry muffled against his shoulder. He followed with a low, guttural sound, his body stiffening above me before he collapsed, his weight heavy and final. For a long moment, there was only the hum of the air conditioner and the frantic beat of my heart. Saumya moved first, reaching for the champagne flute on the nightstand, her movements fluid and unselfconscious. She took a long sip, her eyes meeting mine over the rim, and offered me the glass. "Welcome," she said, her smile a complex, worn-out thing. I took it, my hand shaking, the bubbles stinging my raw throat. Vishal shifted off me, running a hand through his hair. "Well," he said, his voice rich with satisfaction. "That was a proper welcome to the team."
The champagne tasted like victory and salt. "Now," Saumya said, her voice a low hum that cut through the satisfied silence. She didn't look at Vishal for permission this time.
Her mouth found mine, sudden and demanding, her tongue tracing the sweet sting of champagne from my lips. One of her hands slid down my stomach, fingers slipping through the slick mess between my thighs, and I jerked at the touch, still oversensitive. "You're both so ready again," she murmured against my skin, her other hand reaching for Vishal.
She took him in her hand, stroking him slowly back to life, her eyes locked on mine the entire time. "Watch," she instructed me, her breath hot on my neck as she lowered her head. The sight of her, my elegant, reserved didi, taking him into her mouth with a practiced hunger sent a new, shocking bolt of heat through my core. Her enthusiasm was raw, a greedy sound vibrating in her throat.
Vishal’s head fell back, a low groan escaping him. "God, Saumya," he breathed, his hand tangling in her hair. She pulled away, a slick string of saliva connecting her lips to him, her own need palpable in the darkened room. "My turn," she whispered, her voice ragged, and pushed me back onto the pillows.
She climbed over me, her skin fever-hot, and guided him into herself with a sharp, desperate gasp. The bed rocked with her frantic rhythm, a complete abandonment that left me breathless. She reached for my hand, pressing my palm against her lower stomach where I could feel the deep, driving movement inside her. "Feel it," she moaned, her hips stuttering. "Feel how much I need it."