抖阴社区

31. Schemes and screams.

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Days after Rakhi, on a Sunday morning, I make sure my wife wakes up after me—preferably with my mouth on her skin

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Days after Rakhi, on a Sunday morning, I make sure my wife wakes up after me—preferably with my mouth on her skin. Bugu sleeps semi-naked, sometimes entirely bare, just like the day she was born. And honestly, who am I to complain? What husband in his right mind would ever miss the chance to watch his wife let a bathrobe or satin slip pool at her feet, cross the room, and slide under the covers beside him?

For me, foreplay begins right there.

But it's been far too long since we've had any of it. Having a wife who runs her own business—one that keeps her traveling more than I'd like—is a damn challenge. This time, Falak was away planning a destination wedding for a friend, while I was stuck here with work.

Three nights without her in our bed, and I swear, I nearly lost my mind.

Three nights. Seventy-two hours of aching for her, of sleeping alone in a bed that felt too damn big, of scrolling through my phone and staring at pictures of her just to keep myself sane. And now that she's finally back, sprawled out naked beside me, I feel like a starved man at a feast.

My eyes rake over her body, taking in every inch of her smooth, golden skin. The way the morning light dances over her curves, the way her chest rises and falls in steady breaths—it's enough to make my mouth water.

I swallow hard, my throat suddenly dry, as my fingers itch to touch. My gaze trails lower, drinking her in, heat pooling low in my stomach. God, I missed this. I missed her.

My body responds instantly, hardening at the sight of her, the scent of her—familiar, intoxicating, entirely mine. My pulse pounds as I shift closer, my lips parting as I lean in, my breath ghosting over her bare shoulder.

I can't help it.

I press a slow, open-mouthed kiss to her skin, tasting her warmth, feeling the way she stirs beneath me. My tongue flicks out, teasing, savoring. A low groan rumbles in my chest as my hand slides over her stomach, tracing the dip of her waist.

She sighs in her sleep, shifting slightly, her body instinctively pressing into mine.

God help me, but I need her. Now.

Falak stirs, a sleepy hum escaping her lips as my fingers trail lower, teasing, lingering. She's still half-asleep, but her body responds to me, the way it always does—like it knows me even before her mind catches up.

I press another kiss to her shoulder, then her collarbone, dragging my lips down until I reach the valley between her breasts. My breath hitches as she shifts again, her legs stretching, parting just enough to make my brain short-circuit.

God, three nights without this woman felt like hell.

I let my mouth wander, tasting, savoring. My tongue flicks over her skin, and I feel her shudder beneath me. Her breathing changes—deeper, heavier—before she finally blinks awake, her lashes fluttering as her gaze meets mine.

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