Dev’s POV 

She was wearing white. A damn oversized kurta, that's it, nothing else. It clung to her like wet silk, drenched from the rain, hugging every inch of her skin.

I can't see anything because of the dark room, but still I can see everything.

Her hair was soaked too, sticking to her face, her throat, and her collarbones. Still, her face isn't visible in the darkness of the room.

God.

My throat went dry.

She was standing by my bed. Barefoot. Drenched. Eyes locked on mine.

I didn’t move. I couldn’t. I just stared.

Quenching the thirst of my eyes looking at her curves and imagining what could be hiding behind this sheer fabric.

And then she smiled, soft and secretive. I can see the corner of her lips stretching, and then she climbed onto the bed without saying a word.

Her palms were cool against my chest, her fingers slow and deliberate, tracing every scar, every muscle, every place but not where I desperately wanted her.

Warm skin. Soft sighs. Fingertips dragging across my chest like whispers.

A weight above me. Moving. Slowly. Rhythmically. Deliberately. Intoxicatingly.

My eyes were heavy. The room was fogged, and my breath was ragged.

She didn’t speak. Not a word.

But I felt her.

The press of her thighs against my hips. The scrape of nails down my abdomen. The roll of her body as she moved over me, fluid, aching, devastating.

Her face was shadowed, dipped in the dark, hidden behind strands of her wet hair. I couldn’t see her. But I didn’t need to.

My body knew her.

Every curve, every gasp, every tremble. Like I’d touched her before. Like she was mine.

My hands roamed, greedy, reverent. Up her spine, down her back, holding her close as she arched into me. Her breath hitched as I gripped her tighter, my name slipping from her lips like a secret she wasn't supposed to say.

"Dev…"

That voice.

Familiar. Forbidden.

My heart slammed against my ribs.

Who?

I tried to see her. My hands went to her face. But she dipped lower, her lips trailing down my neck, across my jaw, teasing, tasting, torturing.

Her lips brushed against my neck first, hot, soft, maddening.

Then lower.

I groaned. I swear I did.

My hands moved on their own, gripping her waist, her hips. God, she fit so perfectly, like she was made to sit there, just like that.

Then she kissed me, and in that kiss, I forgot my own name.

It wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t sweet.

It was hunger and surrender and punishment all at once.

I let my hands roam her thighs, her waist, and under the soaked fabric, and she let me. Welcomed me. Pulled me closer.

The more I touched her, the more I needed.

And when she leaned forward, brushing her lips against my ear, and whispered, “I told you you’d come undone,”

I lost control.

My hand fists her wet hair, and the other travels between us.

I touched her, and she was dripping wet for me.

“Dev, I dreamt of this moment. I dreamt of you.”

The moment those words left her quivering lips, I lost every ounce of control within me, and I moved my hips upward.

With a single thrust I was balls deep inside her, and she arched her body, throwing her head back in pleasure.

"Oh, Dev!"

The moment she threw her head back and her wet hair moved away from her face, then I saw her.

“Prachi!” 

Her name was a prayer on my lips, half moan, half apology.

She looked down at my face, and I saw her properly.

Prachi.

It's my Prachi.

Her eyes. Her mouth. That little mole near her lip.

The same expression she wears when she’s furious with me, only now it was softer. Hungrier.

Her body moved against mine, slow at first, then urgent, as if time itself bent around us. My breaths were ragged.

My hands couldn’t stop shaking, but that didn't stop me from touching her, molding her curves.

It was bliss and torment all at once.

Every gasp, every damn breath, every moan, and every groan in this silent room was a melodious symphony.

Every time she moans my name, “Dev!” A desperate, breathless moan. It sounds like a prayer to my ears that I can hear my whole fucking life.

God, I was losing it.

Her movements quickened, deeper, wilder, pulling me closer to the edge I didn’t know I’d been chasing.

Pleasure surged through me, sharp and sudden, as her body gripped mine like velvet fire.

I was spiraling.

Breaking.

And then…just as the waves crashed, I moaned her name like a prayer to the dark.

Her name tore from my throat just as I jolted awake.

“Prachi…”

I was panting. Sweating. Hard as a fucking rock.

Every muscle is tight. The sheets tangled. My heart is racing. My body is still aching from the aftermath.

I sat up. Wiped a hand down my face.

Fuck.

It wasn’t real.

Just a fucking dream.

But it felt like she had been here.

Like she had touched me, marked me, and claimed something that was never hers to begin with.

Or maybe it was never mine.

I leaned back against the headboard, jaw clenched, staring into the dark.

She hadn’t even touched me in real life, and yet, she owned every inch of me.

My heart was racing like I’d actually touched her. But I hadn’t.

She wasn’t here.

Just a goddamn dream.

A dream so vivid I could still feel her nails on my skin, her scent in the air.

Then I stretched my hand for a glass of water… anything cold because the fire she lit in me wasn’t going to burn out anytime soon.

No! My body was still on fire.

I’d woken up breathless, painfully hard, her name still echoing in my mouth.

Prachi.

Goddaamn it woman!

It was like she’d reached inside my damn head and made a home there. And now? She wouldn't leave.

The sheets clung to my skin, soaked with sweat and sin. My boxers felt like a vise. I kicked the covers off and sat on the edge of the bed, trying to calm my pulse.

But my cock throbbed with a cruel ache.

I drank the water in one gulp to calm myself, but it was useless.

I leaned back, running a hand down my face. I shouldn’t. I really shouldn’t think about her.

But then I thought of her lips, plump, soft, and slightly parted in that dream. The way she’d moaned around my name. The way her mouth had…

Fuck.

My hand slipped lower, traitorous and desperate, cupping myself through the fabric. A hiss left my lips.

It was supposed to be a release. A way to forget. But every stroke just pulled me deeper into her.

I freed my throbbing cock from the only restraint holding it and started jerking myself.

I imagined her on her knees. Looking up at me. Eyes full of mischief and challenge. That smug innocence she wore whenever she got under my skin.

Only this time, she was on her knees for me.

I let out a broken sound, my hips twitching, my grip tightening.

She’d take her time, wouldn’t she? Tease me. Torture me. Make me beg.

And I would.

For her.
Always for her.

I started moving my hand faster, imagining her mouth wrapped around my cock.

A sharp moan escaped me as my climax built, hot and fast and ruthless. I bit down on the inside of my cheek, stifling the groan that tore from my chest as I came hard, her name once again breaking past my lips.

“Prachi…”

Silence followed. Heavy and suffocating.

I sat there, breathing hard, my head bowed, shame creeping in like smoke under a locked door.

This had to stop.

But deep down, I knew the truth.

She had already ruined me.

And I hadn’t even tasted her yet.

Fuck!

I’ve completely lost my mind.

I just had a wet dream about that girl… And now I’ve jerked myself off imagining her.

Fuck! I’ve gone mad, and maybe this madness won’t end unless I taste Prachi.

I want her. I need her. At any cost.

The next morning, I tried to keep myself busy with work. Sufiyan is about to leave for his honeymoon, and before that, he has a mountain of commitments to wrap up.

There’s no doubt that he’s dedicated to his work… And maybe that dedication distracted me for a while too.

But the moment I got home, my mind spiraled back into insanity for her.

I know very well… that an innocent girl like her isn’t meant for someone like me. She’s too pure. But still… I want to ruin her.

Make her mine, and for that, sometimes, I feel disgusted with myself.

But still, I don't care.

Trying to distract my thoughts, I picked up my phone, thinking maybe I could talk to that stranger again… the one I’ve been sexting for over a year now.

I haven’t spoken to her in days; work has kept me swamped, and everything needed settling before I could even breathe.

I opened the app and sent her a message.

NoSafeWords: Are you awake?

I didn’t know if she’d even reply… I had ghosted her for quite some time.

But within seconds, my screen lit up.

WhisperOfYes is typing…

A faint smile tugged at my lips, and then her message came through:

WhisperOfYes: Where have you been, stranger? I thought you forgot me.

NoSafeWords: Forgive me… I was caught up with work.

I hit send.

But her next reply?

That one gave me an instant hard-on.

WhisperOfYes: I touched myself last night. I woke up with aching between my legs… and I did it.

My fingers paused over the screen.

A groan escaped my lips as I leaned back into the couch, my eyes glued to her words.

I could picture it: her sprawled across her bed, flushed cheeks, nipples brushing the soft fabric of her nightdress, thighs clenched.

I typed,

NoSafeWords: Tell me exactly what you were wearing and what you did after you woke up wet.

She didn’t respond right away.

I stared at the typing bubble for what felt like a goddamn century.

Then

Her reply came in pieces, slow… teasing… deliberate.

WhisperOfYes: A long black satin nightgown….. No panties…. And after I woke up? I slid my fingers down… slow… imagining it was your mouth instead… I moaned your name… even though I don’t know it.

Fuck! I ran a hand through my hair, jaw clenched, my cock straining against my boxers again. She didn’t even need to send pictures; her words were enough to make my imagination go wild. She knew how to crawl under my skin, twist my restraint into a knot, and set it on fire.

NoSafeWords: I want to see you. Tonight. Just your voice. Nothing else. No names. No faces. Just the sound of you falling apart for me.

There was a pause. My heart beat faster than I’d admit. I don't know if she will agree or not, but maybe I'll get some peace from my desire after hearing her voice.

Then, finally, she replied.

WhisperOfYes: Midnight. You call. And I’ll fall. 

I shut my eyes, but I didn’t see her.

I saw Prachi.

In that same nightgown. On her knees. Eyes wide and innocent. Mouth opening for me.

Fuck!

Even when I tried to escape her…

Prachi was the one I kept dragging into my darkness.

Just to distract myself, I texted her again.

NoSafeWords: I promise, without even touching you, I’ll give you the best orgasm of your life just with my voice.

WhisperOfYes: You shouldn’t affect me this much.

NoSafeWords: I haven’t even touched you.

WhisperOfYes: That’s the problem. What happens when you do?