—SOHINI—
Six months.
That's how long it had been since Vedant last touched me—since that one last kiss that still haunted my lips.
I had tried everything since then—skimpy outfits, subtle touches, teasing glances. But he hadn't laid a single finger on me.
The man had restraint. Culture, he'd say. Fuck that. I was burning from the inside out.
My nights were drenched in fantasies—wet dreams so vivid I'd wake up breathless and aching, my fingers replacing the touch I craved, pretending it was his cock stretching me open instead. But how long was I supposed to wait?
"How long do I have to wait?" I snapped, slamming my math book on the table with a frustrated groan.
Vedant barely blinked. "I told you—when you're ready." He flipped the book open again, calm as ever.
"And how the hell would I know that?" I demanded, brows drawn in irritation.
"You'll just know," he replied with a teasing smirk, diving back into the equation.
"You're just fucking with me," I muttered, narrowing my eyes.
Then he leaned in—soft, sudden, electric—he kissed me.
His lips were warm, deliciously firm, with taste of discipline and denial. I grabbed his collar, pulling him into me until my breasts pressed against his chest. My heart thundered.
"Fuck me, please," I moaned against his mouth, desperate.
He pulled back slowly, eyes dark and unreadable, lingering on my face.
"Back to studies," he said, voice hoarse, pointing to the book like he hadn't just kissed me.
"No," I whispered, defiant, my hand trailing down to his crotch. There. Hard. Hot. Real.
He caught my wrist instantly, grip tight, voice low. "What are you trying to do?"
"V-Vedant," I stammered, cheeks burning. "I—I want to see it. I've never seen one before."
His brows shot up. "Never?"
"No," I breathed. "You're my first. I don't watch porn either—I read smut. It's better."
He looked like he was struggling to keep breathing.
"I want to give you a blowjob," I said with a sweet, innocent smile. "Please?"
He blinked like he thought I was joking. But I wasn't.
Without waiting, I slowly sank to my knees in front of him, while he sat frozen on the chair. I placed my palm on the bulge in his jeans. Solid. Thick. My mouth watered.
"Don't," he growled, his jaw tight.
"Why not?" I looked up at him, eyes wide, voice soft. "I want to."
"Because I won't be able to control myself." His voice was ragged now.
I crawled onto his lap instead, straddling him, my breasts pushing against his chest, nipples stiff beneath my top. I let my fingers trace lazy circles over his clothed cock, feeling it twitch beneath my touch.
His whole body tensed.He was trembling. Fighting himself.
"I don't want you to control yourself anymore," I whispered, lips just barely brushing his.
"You make it so fucking hard," he groaned, breath uneven.
I smiled wickedly. "I can feel exactly how hard."
I kissed him softly, teasingly, and murmured, "Let me pleasure you. Just a handjob. Nothing more—unless you lose control."
He let out a shaky exhale, head falling back, eyes fluttering shut.
"Alright," he said. "Do what you want with me."
And I planned to.
I slowly unzipped his jeans, revealing the fact that he wasn't wearing any underwear. Of course he wasn't—he was home, relaxed, and completely unaware of the chaos he was about to cause inside me.
His cock sprang free, thick, veiny, and hard—just like I had fantasized for months. But nothing could've prepared me for the real thing. My jaw opened, my hand trembled slightly as I wrapped my fingers around him.
"Tighter," he murmured, his hand enveloping mine, guiding it along his shaft. Our eyes locked, his narrowed with restraint, mine wide with curiosity and hunger. He moved my hand back and forth, slow and deliberate.
"This—this is how it's done?" I asked innocently, like a curious student learning a new experiment in the lab.
He nodded, watching me closely.
Soon enough, he let go, and I began stroking him on my own, watching his lips part in a quiet moan that made my pussy clench and my nipples tighten under my bra.
"How often do you jerk off?" I asked, switching hands as the other started to ache.
"I don't," he growled. "I—I—f—fuck."
His fingers gripped the sides of the chair like he was holding himself back from pouncing on me.
"What did you say?" I teased, moving faster.
"Shh—just keep going."
And then it happened. I felt the sudden heat coat my hand.
"Fuck—," he groaned, removing my hand just in time to release into a towel.
I looked at the sticky mess coating my fingers and brought them to my nose. "It smells—alkaline," I noted, then curiously licked a bit. "Tastes bitter."
He stared at me, stunned and amused.
"You didn't just lick my cum, did you?"
"I was curious," I said sweetly. "Mind if I get a better taste?" I winked.
"No. Go back to your studies," he said, trying to sound stern.
"You're such a fucking strict tutor," I groaned.
He laughed softly, then leaned in, kissing the side of my neck. His hand began trailing down my body until it cupped my breast, firm and bold. Even through the fabric, I could feel the heat of his palm.
He slipped his fingers beneath my bra, pinching my hard nipple. I gasped, grinding against his thigh.
"Yes—fuck," I moaned, biting my lip as he massaged and teased, turning pain into pleasure.
I crashed my lips into his, our tongues tangled in desperation, my fingers tugging at his hair.
"I can't control it anymore," I moaned into his mouth. "I'm fucking worked up."
"Vedant—please, do something," I begged.
He lifted me onto the table with ease, then yanked off my t-shirt in one swift motion. My bra came undone a moment later, and my tits bounced free, nipples already stiff and aching for him.
"May I?" he asked, even now a gentleman, which was infuriating and somehow even more arousing.
"Yes. Please."
He devoured my breasts, sucking and biting with hunger. His mouth was rough, desperate, and god, it hurt in the best way.
My head rolled back, a string of moans escaping my lips.
"Fuck me," I groaned, threading my fingers through his hair.
His mouth hovered over mine again, his eyes burning into me like he was trying to read my soul.
"Not yet," he whispered.
Before I could argue, there was a knock at the door.
"Vedant? Sohini's father is here, asking how long the lesson will last," came his mother's voice.
I pushed him away in a panic, yanked my shirt on, not bothering with the bra, and tried to catch my breath.
Vedant opened the door, and there stood my father beside his mother.
"Papa?" I smiled nervously, tucking the bra under my book. "Just five more minutes?"
"I'm waiting downstairs," he said sternly, then turned and left.
I sighed deeply. "He's going to scold me tonight."
"Why? Just tell him the lesson ran long." Vedant was completely unbothered.
"It's past ten. I've been here since six," I muttered, dreading the walk home.
"Want me to talk to him?" he offered gently, ruffling my hair.
"No, it's fine." I picked up my books and followed Papa out.
At home, he didn't wait long.
"Why did the class last so long?" he asked as we sat at the table.
"It was a really long chapter. We lost track of time," I said, lying through my teeth while shoving roti in my mouth.
"Next time, don't lock the door," he said sharply, eyes piercing through me.
"Papa, we were just studying. He's like a brother to me." I tried to sound innocent, praying he wouldn't push more.
"I'm just concerned. One day, when you have a daughter, you'll understand."
"But Papa, we're innocent," I argued.
"Sohini, since when did you start arguing with your elders?" Maa cut in.
"Maa! You too?" I groaned.
"Next time, tell your tutor not to teach past eight," Papa concluded.
"Fine," I mumbled and went straight to my room.
I flopped onto my bed, frustrated. Why are parents such buzzkills? Why can't they let me live my life?
If I want to lose my virginity to Vedant, I'll have to marry him first. But my parents would never let me marry him.
He's older, divorced, jobless—and the only man who's ever made me this wet.