Dating Dr. Dil (If Shakespeare was an Auntie #1)(49)

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.

Rina gasped for air, and in the shadows of her shed, watched him lift his fingers to his lips and suck off her juices.

She tasted just as sweet as a gulab jamun that dripped with sticky decadence. He couldn’t wait to taste her again, but this time in a bed where he could take his time and she rode his face.

And they would end up in a bed together soon.

“I—you—”

A sound interrupted them, slicing through the moment like a utility knife.

“Kareena! They’re about to cut the cake, and your grandmother wants you to be there!”

Prem dropped his forehead to hers. “Damn,” he said quietly.

“I didn’t . . . we didn’t . . .”

“Later,” he said. “You can touch me later, Rina, honey. Right now, I need to calm down.”

He pulled back, letting her lehenga fall to her knees. They were both still breathing heavy, drunk on lust.

“I hope they don’t know,” she whispered, adjusting her hair and clothes as she slid off the hood of the car. “Just by looking at us.”

He stepped back and admired her in the starlight. “Your father already has an idea that we’re out here alone,” he said. “But if it makes you feel better, I’ll walk around to the front of the house. I’ll need another moment anyway.”

She nodded, then straightened her shoulders. Before she could move past him, he touched her arm. “Before you go, tell me what you want to do.”

His stomach twisted when she shook her head, then pulled back. “I-I don’t know,” she said. “I just need more time.”

Prem slid a hand over her bare arm until it reached her shoulder. Then, he adjusted her chunni and dropped a quick kiss against her mouth one last time.

“Fine,” he said. “Then I’ll give you time.” He hooked his fingers in her cleavage, feeling a surge of power when she shuddered, and quickly fastened the top clasp. “But you don’t have a lot of it, Rina, honey.”

“You’ll wait for me,” she replied, her voice stronger now, her eyes cool as she looked straight at him. “You’ll wait for me as long as I ask, because now, Dr. Prem Verma, you’re invested.”