Page 79 of The Rules of Playing with Fire

At my nod, he flipped me over and hoisted up my hips. Positioning himself behind me, he spanked me hard before thrusting into me. My back arched with pleasure. Each angry thrust was followed by a thump on my buttocks. My traitorous heart soared at the thought of his palm print on them. The arrogant man knew exactly what he was doing, and it irked me that I was enjoying all of it.

“Say my name, Sona,” he demanded as he continued his thwacking.

Yes, sure I was going to just bend over and say his name. Well, I was bent over, but I wasn’t going to say his name and grant him that win.

“Say it, Sona. Tell me how hard I’m winning at this,” he tried to provoke me, but I held my silence, allowing my body to rock with him.

He groaned, grunted, and cursed before he succumbed. As I collapsed onto my stomach, he fell on his back beside me.

When our racing hearts slowed down, he turned to his side and placed a gentle hand on my buttocks. “Did that hurt? Are you in pain?” he asked caressing my tender skin.

“No,” I said, but he got off the bed, stepped to the bathroom and returned with a tube of my body cream.

I remained motionless from the most satisfying fatigue ever, as he applied the emollient over my tingling skin. At that point, the only thought haunting me was that I wanted to spend an eternity lying naked next to this fantastic man. If only he’d wanted me the same way.

“Turn over,” he ordered.

I tumbled over, and he applied the cream to my breasts, checking for broken skin. I had none, only bruises from the rough session. Our eyes locked as he leaned in, and I thought he was going to kiss me. My lips parted, although the rest of my body lay still with exhaustion. He stayed there for a few beats, then pulled away and returned the body cream to the bathroom.

“I better leave,” he said, as he pulled up his briefs.

The sting from his declaration hurt deep. “You better. You didn’t think I was letting you spend the night here, did you?” I quipped.

“I wouldn’t want to,” he said from the edge of the bed, pulling the tight salwar leggings up his strong limbs. “You snore.”

I sat up with a frown. “Get out,” I said, and he found delight in my anger.

I was still naked when he was dressed and ready to leave. I pulled a robe off the chair where I had tossed it that morning.

“Lock it,” he ordered at the door. He extended a hand to touch the hair falling across my cheek, but he retracted it and straightened, gazing into my eyes instead.

“Tomorrow?” he asked with a hastily put-on grump.

My chest turned heavy, and I clutched the door to prevent myself from leaping into his arms when he was ready to make his escape. I held my hurt and my silence.

“Tomorrow?” he asked again with blatant need in his voice.

“Yes,” I said and hurriedly closed the door behind him.

MIHIR

The next night, I owned her.

She didn’t challenge me when I claimed indisputable victory in bed that night. Instead, she gave me a shy smile with those innocent eyes I loved. Perhaps that’s what she’d wanted? And if I had given her that, did that mean she had won? Great, now she was playing with my mind too.

Sona had apologized and expected me to accept and appreciate it. But an apology wasn’t what I was after. An apology could mean she was sorry for retreating from me again. It could mean she regretted having hurt me. But neither of these suggested she wanted me. What I needed from her was an unequivocal admission of her feelings. Sona had to tell me that she wanted me, that she believed in my commitment to her, and that she was ready to take the plunge. Short of that, nothing seemed adequate. I was all in, and she had to take the leap with me.

Until then, I’d give her the space she required. But that didn’t mean I wouldn’t torture her, annoy her, or infuriate her. It was all a part of this dance around the fire. It would be a rough road to get back to where we were, and she’d better be prepared to trudge it with me, rocks, embers, and all.

I held on to my faux anger and grump around her while we carried on this ridiculous act for four more days. During the day, we barely saw each other. I spent my days at work and my evenings with friends or attending business dinners. Sona spent her days with Tara or whatever else she had planned to do. At night, we fucked like we were eternal lovers. I owned her on my piano, in the kitchen, in my bed. She claimed me on the floor, in her bed, on the couch. We rarely spoke during these times together except to provoke each other into surrendering.

Then she disappeared for a day and a half. When I asked her the next night, she said she had driven up to Houston for a quick meeting. She gave no details about who and why, and I didn’t ask.

That Saturday, Sameer and Tara left for India. They wanted to accompany Tara’s mother back home before they embarked on their elaborate honeymoon tour.

On Sunday, Mom asked Sona over for dinner, as well as Grant and Mike. I suspected Mom of trying to establish some kind of legitimacy for my association with Sona. I saw no other reason why she would invite my friends and Sona to dine at the same table.

Sona had arrived early to help Mom, as did I. Mom’s cook usually had the weekends off, so it was just the four of us, including Dad, skittering around the kitchen. Mom made chicken curry while I made a simple pulao with peas and cashews. Out of defiance, I didn’t make aloo paratha. Dad and Sona helped Mom chop and dice vegetables for her spread of assorted dishes. Sona was tasked with making the raita, but she messed up the yogurt to cucumber to mint ratio. I had to step in and salvage the dish, much to her ire and my delight.

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