Prerish OS : Dream a Little Dream || Kasautii Zindagii Kay OS || KZK OS || Prerna || Mr.Bajaj

Good bye, baby.

His baritone voice reaches her from far, far away, drifting like an exotic butterfly in the haze of summer. Perhaps she's dreaming, she thinks and buries herself further into the covers and takes in the scents of oak moss and cedar and hints of peppermint with long, deep breaths. Her own personal narcotic. Her eyes blink open to search for the handsome features of her husband but find nothing.

A momentary panic seizes her before a sleepy memory chases the fear away. He had left for the United States yesterday. With a sigh, she closes her eyes against nightmarish reality and wills herself to allow the dreams of being in his strong arms to fill her head.

She nuzzles into the pillow, his pillow and let's her hand slide between her thighs as she feels the sweet lull of sleep taking over her, mixed with fond memories...

Was it possible to hate someone so much that she felt she was going to catch on fire? Because Prerna was feeling exactly like that as she followed her husband into his mansion.

"Mr. Bajaj..." she bit out.

He showed no signs of stopping or turning back and continued up the stairs two at a time.

"Stop, Mr. Bajaj!"

Grinding her teeth together, she ran after him and pushed herself into his bedroom before he could close the door on her face.

"You can't run from me."

"Not now, Prerna." The words were a low growl in his throat, like a wolf warning off a rival from his territory.

Lucky then that she was feeling a lot reckless that day.

"I've told you time and again to leave them alone. Why did you insult Kakababu... Ow!"

His hands encircled her upper arms and he dragged her towards the door. Realising what he intended, Prerna dug her heels to prevent his action.

"No.. No. You can't throw me out."

His face was impassive, devoid of any kind of emotion. Until his eyes met hers. Obsidian eyes. She wasn't sure if she had ever seen eyes like his. A true black. So black that it was impossible to tell where the irises ended and the pupils began. Presently, they were glinting with barely suppressed rage. Caught in them, she felt terrified. And completely alive.

"I don't want to talk to you right now." He spat the words, pressing her to the door.

The danger he was exuding and her hatred for him was making every nerve in her body sizzle with fire. She didn't understand what this feeling was but she wanted more.

"But I want to talk," she said with a confidence that she was really not feeling. "You have no right. Absolutely no right to hurt the people I care about.."

"Look at you." The disappointment on his face bothered her as much as the disdain in his voice. "You're pathetic."

"And you're disgusting. You don't have the right to insult Anurag. You'll always be a gutter rat compared to him."

The words were chosen with the intention to inflict the maximum hurt. She could barely suppress her crow of triumph when she saw the words find their mark. The glint had turned into full-fledged fire in the depth of his eyes. His hand tightened around her arms, almost to the point of pain.

"Prerna." And his voice was calm. Like the lull before the storm. "You don't want to find out what happens when you play with fire."

But she did. Desperately so. "Why don't you show me?"

Her cl*toris is throbbing between her slick fingers. The memory of their first kiss plays in her head. The tangle of their tongues, the graze of his teeth against her lips and the yearning for something unknown. She had devoured him with the same urgency before she came to her senses, or had lost it and she had ended up slapping him soundly across his face. 

She's so close. So damn close... 

A loud knock on the door startles her. She feels like a bucket full of ice has been upended on her.

"Go away," she snaps.

"Madam, Maasi needs you to come downstairs instantly," Chandu says, his tone apologetic.

Bloodsucking bitch.

He hasn't called her. Not even once in the entire day. And now she refuses to call him on principle. That doesn't stop her from directing alternate glances of longing and annoyance at her mobile phone as she gets ready for bed. The force of her glare then turns to the empty space on the bed where he would have slept if he was here with her.

"Heartless bast*rd," she says out loud. "Money-minded jerk."

Prerna storms to their shared wardrobe and throws the doors open. As she is looking for her nightgown, her eyes find his wine coloured shirt and refuse to budge.

In a fit of whimsy, she pulls the shirt out and presses it to her face, breathing in deeply.

She is reminded of the days she had spent in the confused agony of his absence after their first kiss. She had yearned for one glimpse of him, one word from him. But in vain. Instead, for close to a month she had been left in the company of his family members and the silence of his house.

Until she found out from Chandu that he had returned.

She stood in the doorway, partly hidden from view as she watched him padding around barefooted in a pair of dark trousers and a white shirt which he was in the process of discarding. Her plans of announcing her presence with a discreet cough scattered like dandelion petals on a breeze as he dropped the garment on the bed and walked to his wardrobe.

Prerna was aware that he was a handsome man. In a purely objective way of course. She'd have to be blind to not notice that much. But with his shirt off, Mr. Bajaj was a different specimen of male beauty altogether. The ripple of the muscles on his back as he pulled out and replaced garments was riveting to say the least. Prerna stamped down on the mad urge to go and examine his tattoos from close proximity. To touch his bare skin.

"Why are you hiding in the shadows?" he asked as he put his arms through the sleeves of his shirt.

She was so startled that she hit her hand on the doorknob. "Sh*t."

He left the shirt unbuttoned as he turned towards her. With a wave of his first two fingers, he gestured her to come closer. Like how a bloody colonist would summon a native servant. It should be beneath her but the look in his eyes made not obeying him impossible.

"You're bleeding," he observed.

Prerna became aware of  the pain in her fingers. "Oh."

His hand encircled her wrist and he lifted her hand to his lips. He lapped the blood off her index finger like an exotic elixir. The warmth of his mouth around her finger resonated in the depths of her stomach.

"Rishabh," she moans his name, just as she had moaned it then. But this time, his groan doesn't follow.

Prerna wears the shirt to bed, instead of her nightgown.

She was in bed with the devil himself.

She should've known her husband didn't possess a single iota of mercy in his body. But she begged nevertheless.

"Please... Please let me come."

The rythmn of his fingers inside her slowed instead of hastening. Dark eyes pinned her down with their javelin-like weight. The curve of his mouth was unbearable cruel.

"Not yet."

Once again, her org*sm receded, leaving her quivering under him. Her hands fluttered down to his shoulders out of their own violation and moved down his back, raking his skin with her nails.

"Prerna..." Her name left his lips in a strange mixture of need and warning. "Keep your hands where you were told to keep. Else..."

She didn't need to be told twice. She fisted the sheets beside her head.

Her readiness to obey was awarded by a swipe of his thumb against her sensitive nub. The motion he found that time was just the right amount of stimulation to make her gasp in pleasure.

"Yes... Yes!"

But he stopped once more. Although this time it was because of her phone ringing than any desire to torture her further.

The name flashing on the screen, caused a scowl to appear on his face.

Anurag

Prerna hastily disconnected the call and turned to cradle the face of her husband in her hands. But before she could say anything, the phone started ringing again.

"Take it," he said, disentangling himself from her. As she began to shake her head, he repeated himself but in a hard tone that made her obey him instantly.

"What is it?" Prerna spoke into the cellular device.

Before she could catch a reply though, before she could disconnect, her husband had her pinned under his weight. His fingers were replaced by his cock in one smooth glide and he set a punishing rythmn, drilling her into the bed.

"Beg for it, Prerna," he growled. "You beg so prettily"

"Please, please... Rishabh please."

Prerna can hear the phone ringing and jolts awake. Snatching it from the bedside table, she sees her husband's name on the screen.

It's Mr. Mehra's voice, however, that greets her ears.

"Ma'am, Bajaj sir is asking you to look for a file."

Prerna's eyes find the clock in the room. 03:21, it reads. "Tell your sir to go to hell."

His warm breath grazes the shell of her ear. Prerna buries her head into his shoulder and presses her whimpers of need against the skin of his throat. The shudders that wrack his frame wakes her from her sleep.

He's looking down at her with tenderness and unabashed want.

"Did you miss me, baby?"

Prerna nods empathetically, the ire she'd been feeling throughout the week, melting under his smile.

His hand moved under the covers. On realising that she's been wearing his shirts to bed, his smile becomes a grin. "Distance has made your heart grow foolish, my love."

Their lips meet in a hungry kiss as Prerna's hands deftly divest him of his tie and jacket.

"Foolish wife, indeed," he whispers as he slips under the sheets.

Aryapdane