Dating Dr. Dil (If Shakespeare was an Auntie #1)(48)

Kareena gasped and slid down the length of the hood, until she was straddling his waist. Prem hooked two fingers in the front of her blouse, right over the unfastened clasp, and tugged until she was sitting up. Her head fell back, exposing the lines of her throat.

“What are you doing?” Her voice was breathy and indignant all at the same time.

Prem rested a finger against her lips. “I’m sorry,” he said.

Her eyes widened, and they were so soft, so beautiful in the dim light of the shed. “Wh-what?”

“I said I’m sorry. You were right to call me a liar. I shouldn’t have said that the kiss was just for show.”

“Then . . . wh-what was it?”

“I don’t know, Kareena,” he said softly, exposing himself. “I don’t know, but ever since I saw you standing at the bar, I knew that you were going to change me. I wasn’t wrong, because even now, even after knowing that we want different things, I plan on kissing you again.” They were close now, and his heart was beating at an erratic rate. He touched her face, tracing the line of her jaw, and watched as desire filmed over her gaze.

“This was only Plan B,” Kareena whispered. She shook her head so that her hair fell in a sleek black waterfall down her back.

Prem leaned in kissed the curve of her collarbone. “Now who’s lying,” he whispered. She tasted deliciously soft, and the heady scent of sandalwood and vanilla haunted him the same way the memory of it haunted his dreams.

He cupped her face, his mouth hovering over hers for a moment in frozen time. Then Kareena’s hands streaked up his chest to tangle in his hair. He groaned as her mouth claimed his.

The rush of lust was just as potent as the first time. Prem pressed a thumb to her chin, and when she parted her lips, he slid his tongue against hers, fitting against her. He hadn’t imagined it. She was perfect.

His hands fell from her face and gripped the top of her thighs that bracketed his hips. The skirt bunched, and even as their lips locked, sliding over each other with a cresting hunger, Prem moved the fabric aside so that he could grip the bare skin of her inner thighs.

She jerked at the first touch but didn’t pull back. Lost in the feel of her kiss, Prem slid his hands farther under the lehenga until he could brush the top of her mound.

Kareena whimpered and pulled away, even as her hands fisted at his shoulders. “Prem, there are people,” she whispered.

“Fuck them,” he replied, his voice heavy and harsh before his mouth crashed against hers. She shifted closer and tilted her hips forward enough for him to slide two fingers under the fabric of her panties.

God, she was soaked. He’d sell his soul to get a taste of her, but because there was a chance, as small as it may be, that they’d get caught, he stayed standing, hiding her pleasure with his body. She shivered as he parted her and found her clit.

They were breathing heavy now, tongues tangled as he began rubbing slow, maddening circles over her swollen clitoris. It felt perfect under his fingers, and he pressed harder just as she began to quiver in his arms. She tightened like a bow, back arching, hips gyrating in slow, even movements, until he prodded at her entrance with two fingers.

She tore her mouth from his and wrapped her arms around his neck. “Prem,” she whispered shakily.

“Do you want to come,” he whispered back. “Or should I leave you like this, aching for me?”

She groaned, gyrating hard against him. “Would you run upstairs and get yourself off with the thought of my dick pumping inside you until you’re screaming?”

She bit his jaw, her teeth nipping just hard enough for his cock to jerk in his pants. “Make me come,” she whispered back. “Please.”

“Good little Indian girls don’t get finger fucked in the shed,” he said roughly as he pushed his fingers inside her. The sound of her gasp was like music to his ears. He let her adjust to his intrusion, then slowly retracted and pushed back inside her with a little more force. “But you’re a dirty girl, aren’t you? I knew you were different the moment we met.”

“Prem,” she gasped when his thumb brushed against her clitoris.

“I want you to remember me whenever you touch yourself,” he whispered, and began pistoning into her hard.

Her arms wrapped around his shoulders, and she shuddered, her hips rolling forward, silently begging him for more. He was hard now, his erection pressing against his zipper, but this was for Rina. This was for her to feel him so deep that she’d be thinking about him as long as he’d been thinking of her.

She rocked in his arms, harder, faster, her hips moving in a way that had him dreaming of her on top. He buried his face in her neck as her body tensed and she grew closer to orgasm. The sound of the party continuing across the lawn was a reminder that they had to be quick, or they could be discovered any second, as he touched her, her lehenga skirt at her hips, the chime of her payal ringing against the back of his thigh as she fucked his hand.

“Kiss me while you come,” he groaned, and her mouth found his, fastening together like a key finding a lock.

Her body tensed impossibly harder in his arms before she let out a muffled shriek into his kiss. Then her pussy tightened around him as she came.

She was magnificent, he thought as he held her through the shudders and after quakes of her orgasm. He stroked one hand down her back as he removed the other from her deliciously soft pussy.