The Price of Silence
Read the storyThe steam from her bath clung to the mirror, and to her skin. Deepti traced a faint, purple bite mark high on her inner thigh—Amod’s signature. Her fingertip was cool against the heated, tender skin. She leaned closer, her breath fogging the glass. The mark was perfect. A deliberate, possessive oval, the edges already darkening. She remembered the sharp, sweet pain of his teeth, the low groan that had vibrated against her flesh. A slow, secret smile spread on her lips. Her body hummed with the memory, a low, persistent thrum between her legs. The towel around her felt insubstantial, just like her guilt. The bedroom door opened. She didn’t jump. She watched his reflection materialize in the clouded glass, a dark shape in the doorway. Raj’s possessive gaze found her, traveled from the damp ends of her hair down the line of her spine to where the white towel knotted at her chest. The silence was thick. He closed the door. The click of the latch was final. “You’re home early,” she said. Her voice was calm. A little rough. Raj notieces Deepti as she was looking tired and her body is glowing “Hi Deepti, it seems you are tired what happened is all ok? Yes all ok whay you ask this. There bite pink marks on your neck what are those, if you forgive i want confess one thing yes please “Amod started it,” she said, her eyes still on his reflection in the fogged glass. Her voice was quiet, deliberate. A confession dropped into the silent room. Raj’s dark eyes held hers in