Page 44 of The Legend of Meneka
Before I can stop myself, I climb into his lap and straddle him.
I have no time to think if I am being too forward or if I have misinterpreted him.
Kaushika’s gaze widens, and his arms encircle my waist. I feel his strength beneath me, and the corded muscle of his thighs. We both gasp as I settle and lean into him, eyes closed. All I can smell ishim, all I feel is his body, so perfectly aligned with mine. His thumbs skim just below the swells of my breasts, and Ifeelthe contours of my curves through his touch. I suppress a moan, at how close we are, at what we are about to do. My hands bury themselves in his hair, and it is as soft as his body is hard beneath me.
I force my eyes open. I force myself to draw back and study his face.
I will not come to this now in deception. I will have him understand what this means—no ordinary mark, but Kaushika,a sage.
“This will end your asceticism,” I whisper.
“I’ve recently learnt it is not the only way.” His eyes are on my mouth.
“This is your choice,” I say.
“Agreed. Is it yours?”
I dip my head and graze my teeth on the skin of his neck. “What do you think?”
He laughs, and my heart leaps with that sound. His hand threads through my hair, cupping my scalp. He tugs lightly, bending my head slightly back. I want to close my eyes, but I hold on to myself with a final will. I watch him through my lashes, searching him.
“You cannot blame me for this,” I warn.
“Oh,” he whispers. “But I am.”
And he surges forward, his lips assaulting mine. My mouth is hot, my hands gripping his hair. Under me, hegroans, his fingers supporting my neck, tangling in my tresses as he pulls me closer. I angle my head, my hunger a hot flame within me. This is madness. It will only end in pain. This man hates my lord, my home. He may have already harmed my sisters. But all those thoughts flitter away like so manyseeds in the wind. I cannot stop kissing him, and he devours me like he wouldn’t allow me to stop. He tastes of spun sugar and ginger, the camphor of his scent driving me to distraction. I part my lips and pull his tongue along mine, and he groans again, his fingers by my rib cage, thumbs skimming just over my nipples, rubbing them back and forth until they harden through my kurta.
“Meneka.” His voice is a tortured whisper, and within it I hear a thousand admissions, a million promises. “I’ve thought of this for too long.”
I shiver against him as the images of his seduction return to me, this time unbidden, golden visions where he pleasures me without asking for anything in return.
A part of me wants to stop. His words make him sound like another successful mark. Yet there is something true within the iron of his voice, something that tells me it is not my influence as an apsara that’s brought him here to me, butme. Beyond my magic, beyond my power.
I tighten the grip of my legs around his waist. I feel his hardness perched right below my bottom, and his hips rock into mine instinctively. Kaushika hitches me higher, never breaking the kiss, and I kiss harder, rolling my body into his, ragged and breathless, devouring him. A dampness grows between my legs, and his hands cup my backside, kneading, his fingers flickering just there.
Pinpoints of pleasure shoot into my spine, into my head. I moan, biting into his lower lip, sinking my nails into the skin of his throat, unable to get enough. I want more, so much more. I want him on his knees. I want to be onmyknees, his hand pushing my head while he begs me for sweet release and I give it to him. I want to conquer this man. I want to own him and bend him to me, not because of my mission but because he will be strong enough to take it, to want it, to understand it. Is this truly who I am? Simply another apsara intoxicatedwith her own power, desiring worship by her thralls? Indra’s gleaming court shines in my head again. Rambha says,Seduce, and I think of whether I am, whether I have.
I break the kiss, my breathing rough. “I—I don’t want to stop,” I stammer, but the words are not for him. They are for me, a justification, a plea. Who will I become if I go through with this? There will be no turning back.
“We won’t stop,” he says firmly. “Not until I give you what you want. Not until you are satiated.”
“What if I never am?” I whisper.
“Then we have a long time of discovery, don’t we?” he says, and his smile tingles against my skin. “I am certainly not going to complain.”
I laugh, and it is a sound torn from me. The thought crosses my mind, that I have seduced him without my knowledge, so much an apsara that I have done this even withoutmypermission, let alone his. I want to give into it badly, my control slipping with every kiss he trails across my neck, that I cannot remember why this is wrong. His tongue glides over me in slow patterns, too dizzying to note, and though I am the one being pleasured, a strangled sound escapes him that tells me that he will allow this, that he will let me conquer him, that he will surrender and know it for strength, that he wants this too. I have never been reluctant about sex, and there has certainly been no more meaning to it than pleasure, but knowing what it would mean for him, formeto do this with a mark … I clutch him, not wanting to leave, not wanting to stop, yet too afraid to continue.
Kaushika rescues me from my own mind. “Let yourself go,” he whispers, and his fingers sneak under my trousers, skin on bare skin, kneading the soft flesh of my bottom, reaching. He is inches away from where I need him, and I squirm, trying to get closer, but he holds me tight. I utter a sound of frustration as rapid need courses thoughme. Dampness is trickling down my thighs, and I press against his hardness, whimpering.
“Do you like this?” he asks quietly.
Almost too much so, I think. “Y-Yes,” I whisper.
My voice is a rush. His hand slides inward, and I bite my lip to keep from screaming. I try to move my own hand, to feel him in turn, but I am trapped by his hard chest, and he shakes his head. He slides his tongue across my jaw, nips at my ears, a low growl of refusal erupting from him. I can almost hear his words.Not me. Just you.
The sound undoes me. It is too intoxicating, that he is both a seduced mark and not. That I am both an apsara and not. We are two raw creatures caught in this whirlpool of identities we have been forced into and embraced.
His knuckles brush over my aching center. Then one thick finger slides through my opening, twisting expertly, and I cannot control it anymore. I cry out, and my back arches. He tugs my head back, his hand in my hair. My eyes are shut in exquisite agony, and I feel the feathery touch of his lips, on my cheeks, my chin, my throat. His breath whispers on my eyelids, the rasp of his tongue as he licks my lips, parting my mouth, stroking it with a skill that I can only compare to lovers I’ve had in heaven.
