Page 208 of The Circle of Exile
“I thought you had a meeting at the HDP office in Chotta Shimla today…”
“I just had that one meeting. I postponed it to 11. That way I can go after breakfast and return before lunch.”
Iram glanced up from helping Yathaarth. Her eyes were surprised but happy.
“Oh don’t be so smug now,” he drawled.
“I didn’t say anything.”
He smirked — “Are you free after his breakfast, myani zuv?”
“Why do you ask?”
“I need to talk to you about something.”
She frowned.
“Drop him down to Shiva and come back up.”
She just shook her head, reiterating the wordsgudandrotito their son, who did not care about the words as long as he got the things into his mouth.
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“I dropped him to play with coriander and be Shiva’s non-helping-helper,” Iram came blabbering into the observatory and he grabbed her wrist, shutting the door closed. Her mouth dropped open but he pressed the door with his back and pulled her to his chest, capturing that wide-open mouth and her loud protest.
“Ath… ummm!” He clasped his hands behind her. Her arms got trapped between them. He tightened his hold, pushing his tongue into her mouth. “Umm…”
That wasn’t a sound of protest now. Atharva bent his head, making her crane back as he used his tongue to reach parts of her he hadn’t touched in long days, weeks, maybe months. Iram met him halfway, wriggling her hands free to snake them up his shoulders, around his neck, clasping there until her fingers were buried in his hair and pushing his head deeper.
He went relentlessly then, using his mouth to do everything, all at once.
“Oh,” she gasped back. Big brown eyes, wide and amazed, stared up at him. He walked her back into the room, turning the key in the lock behind him. Her eyes went there — “Breakfast, Atharva…”
“Arth ate.”
“I meant you.”
He leaned down and caught her lower lip. Nibbled. Silent laughter reverberated from inside her.
“You wanted to talk to me about something,” she demanded with mock indignation. He nipped her chin. “Hmm.”
“Hmm, what, Janab?”
“Hmm, I wanted to talk to you about something,” he reached for her pheran. She froze, glancing around them.
“We are two floors up, between dense deciduous trees with no other house in sight.” He loosened her hold on her thick pheran. “Short of the sun and the birds finding out how amazing you look when you come, there is no danger here.”
Her mouth fell into that same crook where his son had been some time ago. And she scraped her teeth there, knowing what got him going. Atharva groaned, getting rid of everything between them. She began to pull him down to the mattress.
“Too small,” he lifted her up, wrapping her legs around his waist and pushing until they were pasted on a glass wall. He had done his due diligence and checked if it was double-glazed. The thing was thicker than a wall and Atharva only had to hold her up. He did that with pleasure, feeling her warm up over him even when she gasped.
“Cold glass?” He kissed her neck, running his fingers through her hair. “I’m ordering a full mattress and heater for this room, plus a divan big enough to house us both.”
“It’s a waste…” she reached down for him, leaving her weight to him, knowing he would hold her up. Atharva shouldn’t have felt powerful in that one move; it wasn’t even a surprising move. But he felt like the king of the world. Then she stroked him. Hard. And he felt like a slave, slobbering at her altar.
“We need condoms.”
“Here,” he stretched an arm out to the high console drawer under the gramophone and brought a foil up between them. Her eyes widened — “You store it there?”
