Chapter 1: Abu Dhabi Reunion
The penthouse air smelled of expensive sandalwood soap and steam. Water droplets traced paths down the marble wall behind her, mimicking the slow, anticipatory beat of Shanaya’s heart. She stepped onto the cool teak floor, the plush bath sheet wrapped loosely around her, tucked just above her breasts. Her skin, still flushed from the hot water, glowed in the golden afternoon light flooding in from the floor-to-ceiling windows. Abu Dhabi was a dusty, blazing jewel sprawled below them, silent from thirty stories up.
Through the open doorway of the ensuite, she saw him.
Divakar was sitting on the edge of the king-sized bed, still in his tailored trousers and a half-unbuttoned white linen shirt. His elbows rested on his knees, his head down.The muscles of his forearms were taut. He was a statue of conflicted desire.
“You’re still here,” she said, her voice a low, smooth thing.It wasn’t a question.He looked up. His warm brown eyes, usually so sure, were clouded.“Shanaya…”
She didn’t let him finish. The words would be about honor, about Tanya, about a mistake. She’d heard their ghost in every hesitant touch since he’d kissed her in the hotel bar two hours ago, since he’d brought her back here, to this apartment that screamed of his other life. The walk-in closet she’d peeked into held rows of designer dresses—some she recognized as Tanya’s style, some she didn’t. The scent of another woman’s perfume was a faint, persistent note beneath the citrus and spice of him.
She walked toward the bed, the only sound the soft slap of her bare feet on wood, then the crush of the pristine ivory rug. She stopped a foot in front of him, within reach. The afternoon sun caught the damp ends of her long black hair, turning them to filaments of light against her shoulders.
With a slow, deliberate move, she let the towel fall.It pooled at her feet, a ring of damp cotton. The air-conditioned breeze from a hidden vent brushed her nipples, making them tighten instantly. She watched his eyes darken, saw his gaze travel over the full, heavy curve of her breasts, down the narrow dip of her waist, across the flare of her hips.She knew what he saw. A body made for pleasure, a geography he’d once mapped with worshipful hands.
“Look at me,” she whispered.He was.His breath hitched, a sharp, audible pull in the quiet room.
“All these years,” she continued, taking one final step so her knees brushed against his. She placed a hand on his shoulder, felt the hard muscle beneath the crisp linen. Leaning down, her breasts almost touching his chest, she brought her lips to his ear. Her voice dropped to a sinful, confessional murmur.“I’ve never stopped thinking about it.About you. About that thick, beautiful cock of yours, buried deep inside me. I’ve dreamed about how it stretches me, fills me up until I can’t think.”
Divakar groaned, a sound ripped from somewhere primal. His hands came up to her hips, his fingers digging into her flesh, anchoring her—or maybe himself.His forehead dropped against her sternum. “You can’t say things like that.”
“Why not? It’s the truth.” She tangled her fingers in his short, black hair, gently tugging his head back so he had to look up at her again. His resolve was crumbling, she could see it in the tight line of his jaw, the wild pulse in his throat.“You think about it too. I saw it in your eyes the second you saw me at that conference. You remembered how I come, how I scream your name.”
“Shanaya, please.” It was a plea, but not for her to stop.
“Please what?” She ground her hips slowly against the hard ridge now blatant in his trousers. A sharp, electric thrill shot through her.“Please fuck me?Please ruin this perfectly made bed? Please forget for one hour that you’re a loyal, married man?”
With a growl, he surged up, his mouth crashing onto hers. It wasn’t a kiss of gentle reunion; it was a claiming, hot and desperate and full of eight years of pent-up want. His tongue plunged into her mouth, tasting of whisky and regret. She kissed him back just as fiercely, her nails scraping down his back, clutching at his shirt.He broke the kiss, breathing ragged. His hands cupped her face, his thumbs brushing her cheekbones. “I shouldn’t.”
“You already are,” she breathed, and reached for his belt.The clink of the buckle was deafeningly loud. He didn’t stop her. He watched, his chest heaving, as she undid the button, the zipper, and pushed the trousers and boxer briefs down over his hips. His cock sprung free, thick and heavy and already leaking. It was just as she remembered—a solid, intimidating length of flesh, veined and ruddy, the head a smooth, flushed purple. A low whimper escaped her throat at the sight.
“Still a perfect fucking handful,” she murmured, wrapping her fingers around the base.She couldn’t close her thumb and forefinger. He jerked in her grip, a drop of pre-cum beading at the tip. She smoothed it over the silky head with her thumb, her eyes locked on his.That was it. The last thread of his control snapped.
In one fluid, powerful motion, he lifted her and threw her onto the center of the bed.The plush duvet swallowed her. He was on her before she could gasp, covering her body with his, his weight a delicious anchor. He kissed her again, biting her lower lip, then trailing his mouth down her neck, to her collarbone, lower. He took one nipple into his hot mouth, sucking hard, lashing it with his tongue until she cried out, her back arching.
“Divakar… fuck, yes…”
He moved to the other breast, giving it the same brutal attention, his hand kneading the full, soft weight of the first. His hips were grinding against her thigh, his cock leaving a wet, hot trail on her skin.
“You want it?” he growled against her breast, his voice rough, almost unfamiliar. “You want this cock?”
“Yes,” she hissed, bucking beneath him. “God, yes, I want it.Give it to me.”
He shifted, settling between her legs. He didn’t ask if she was ready. He used his hand to guide himself, the broad head of his cock nudging against her soaked entrance.He paused, his eyes locking with hers. The world narrowed to this point of pressure, this moment of almost.With one relentless, deep thrust, he pushed inside her.
She screamed.It was a shock of fullness, a blinding stretch that stole her breath. He was huge, and she was tight, and for a second it was almost too much. He buried himself to the hilt, his pelvis flush against hers, her body stretched taut around him. They both froze, panting.“Jesus,” he breathed, his face a mask of strained ecstasy. “You’re so fucking tight.Like a vise.”
Then he began to move.
He started slow, withdrawing almost completely before plunging back in, setting a deep, deliberate rhythm. Each stroke dragged against her inner walls, lighting up nerves she’d forgotten existed. The slap of skin, the wet, obscene sound of their joining, filled the silent room.
“Harder,” she demanded, clawing at his back.“Don’t you fucking hold back on me now.”
He obeyed. His pace quickened, the thrusts becoming harder, faster, punishing. The bedframe slammed against the wall in a steady, frantic beat. He hooked his arms under her knees, pushing her legs back, opening her wider, plunging even deeper.The new angle hit a spot that made her vision whiten.
“Right there! Oh god, right fucking there!” she shrieked, her heels digging into his shoulders.His rhythm became erratic, primal. He was grunting with each thrust, a savage, beautiful animal lost in the feel of her.Sweat dripped from his brow onto her breasts. She could feel the coil of her own orgasm tightening, a spiral of heat and pressure low in her belly, fed by the relentless, deep friction of him.
“Come for me,” he ordered, his voice guttural. “I wanna feel you come on my cock.”
It was the command that pushed her over.The tension shattered. Her orgasm ripped through her, a convulsive wave that clenched around him, milking his length. She screamed, a raw, unfiltered sound, her body bowing off the bed.Feeling her contractions, his own control shattered. With a final, brutal thrust, he buried himself as deep as possible and let go. A harsh cry tore from his throat as he came, pulsing hot inside her, his body shuddering violently atop hers.
For long minutes, there was only the sound of their ragged breathing, and the distant hum of the city below.The sun had moved, casting long, accusatory shadows across the rumpled silk.
Slowly, he softened and slipped out of her. He collapsed onto his back beside her, an arm flung over his eyes. The silence between them was no longer charged with desire, but with the heavy weight of consequence.
Shanaya stared at the silk canopy above, feeling the ache between her legs, the sticky proof of their sin cooling on her inner thighs.She had what she wanted.Him. Again.
From the bedside table, Divakar’s phone buzzed, skittering across the polished surface.The screen lit up. The caller ID was unmistakable: a photo of a smiling Tanya, with the word “Wife” beneath it.
The phone buzzed again, persistent, a tiny vibrating judgment in the golden light.Divakar didn’t move his arm from his face. He just lay there, utterly still.Shanaya watched the phone until it went silent. Then she turned her head on the pillow to look at his profile, at the strong line of his nose, the set of his jaw. A different kind of hunger, cold and calculating, began to stir in her gut.He was here.He was hers again.For now.
But the phone’s screen had gone dark, and the world outside the windows was slowly turning from gold to a deep, bloody orange. The hour was up.