Rebel Hard
Page 29
Her hands paused pushing at his chest, curled in instead, and he wanted to shudder in sheer relief. “Never?”
“Never.” He wondered if he should tell her what other things he’d never done. “Have you?”
She shook her head, her eyes huge and her teeth biting down on her lower lip.
“How about it?” It came out a rough request.
Running her hands down his chest in that possessive petting way that gave him hope, she rolled her lips inside her mouth and when she parted them to speak, they were pink and wet. “Okay,” she whispered. “But you have to figure out how.”
“Leave me to it.” His jeans were ridiculously uncomfortable in the crotch region right now. “I have to go get my cock under control first.”
Her eyes dipped to his jeans, and he saw the pulse jerk in her throat. “I can’t believe you just…”
Loving her scandalized response when he’d sucked and licked her bare breasts not so many nights ago, he bent close to her ear and whispered, “My cock feels like concrete. It wants to be inside your hot and tight—”
“Nayna!” It was a singsong cry from the kitchen. “I didn’t tell the folks you were in here with Raj, but you better show your face soon or you’re busted.”
Raj pushed off the wall. “I’ll see you at midnight.”
21
Happy New Year
Nayna’s breasts were sulking when she walked into the kitchen, so addicted to Raj’s touch that the tiny mounds ached at being denied it. “Where’s Aditi?”
“Keeping the folks distracted.” Madhuri gave her the once-over. “Huh. You don’t look like you’ve been doing anything at all.”
It was a good thing Madhuri didn’t have X-ray vision.
Her sister’s phone beeped before Nayna had to come up with an answer. Pulling it out of her pocket, Madhuri glanced at it. A dreamy look softened her face, her lips curving.
“Who is he?” Nayna asked her sister.
Madhuri was a flirt, had always been a flirt. However, despite what some people might believe, she didn’t take it beyond flirting with most men. Regardless, she had a far richer dating history than Nayna.
Which wasn’t hard since Nayna had never actually been on a date.
As for Madhuri—Nayna didn’t know what their parents believed, but her sister had been dating steadily since the divorce. Madhuri might be commitment-shy, but she liked men, and she liked being around men and being taken care of by men.
Even living alone, Madhuri was never short of male help. The last time Nayna had been over, she’d found Madhuri’s middle-aged landlord helping her sort out a problem with her television. And there’d been nothing slimy about it—the man had just been happy to be around Madhuri’s effervescent feminine presence.
It had always been that way.
Growing up, Nayna had watched in awe as her sister drew male attention at every wedding and every large party to which they were invited. The marriage offers had begun pouring in the instant Madhuri turned eighteen, but their parents had turned them all down.
“We want our daughter to be educated and able to stand on her own feet before marriage,” her father had said to more than one hopeful suitor.
When those suitors had assured Gaurav Sharma that they’d support Madhuri’s continued studies even after marriage, he’d shaken his head. “No, this is old-fashioned. Marriage at eighteen is not what we want for our girl. She should have her university years.”
That, Nayna thought, was partly why it had hurt their parents so awfully when Madhuri eloped at nineteen. She’d thrown egg into Gaurav’s and Shilpa’s faces, caused them even more shame in the community than engendered by the affair with the master’s student. Raj had deliberately been a bastard that time at lunch, but he was also right: there remained families who wouldn’t allow their precious sons within a hundred meters of Madhuri.
Not that Madhuri cared; she had more men in her thrall than she knew what to do with anyway. Six marriage offers had arrived since Pinky’s wedding. Two from divorced males, three from never-marrieds, and one from a man who was separated as of a bare two months ago but already looking. He’d gone directly into the discard pile. No one wanted to be with a jerk.
“Look at this,” Shilpa Sharma had said when she got a message about one of the never-marrieds. “He’s a real estate man, owns that big apartment complex out by where Mina mausi lives.”
Madhuri had been intrigued. “He must be loaded.”
“Yes, but he’s also older than your father,” their mother had said, waving her hand. “Why do these wrinkly old men think they can get the pretty girls?”
“Um, have you seen Nita’s husband?” Nayna had pointed out.
Their mother had shuddered. “He’s going to be dead before she has her first child.”
“I don’t think that’s in Nita’s plans.” Madhuri’s silky voice. “She’s waiting for him to pop off so she can live the high life with a stud.”
Laughing at the wickedness of Madhuri’s words, Shilpa Sharma had moved on to the next offer. “You should go for this Rohan boy instead. The electrician with his own company. Electricians make good money—we had to pay five hundred dollars that time we had the problem! And he’s young and fit.”
Madhuri, of course, was taking none of the offers seriously—and somehow getting away with it. Every time their parents began to push, she’d say she didn’t intend to be a two-time divorcée and planned to take her time choosing the right groom. “Don’t tell Ma and Dad,” she whispered now before turning her phone around so that Nayna could look at the photograph on it. “His name is Bailey.”
Bailey was a surfer dude, complete with a surfboard under his arm and beach-blond hair. His smile was toothpaste white, his skin like a baby’s bottom. “How old is he?” Nayna asked. “Five?”
Madhuri giggled. “Twenty-one,” she said. “I’m the sophisticated older woman who’s teaching him the ways of the world.”
Nayna’s lips twitched. She had to hand it to her sister—Madhuri knew how to live life. “I’m guessing this one isn’t long term?” she said, taking in the pretty cottage behind Bailey the Surfer. It had a name—inscribed on the plaque beside Bailey’s right shoulder: Seagrass.
Madhuri gave a liquid shrug. “Who knows? We’re having fun right now.” Shimmying around the kitchen, she added, “Lots and lots of fun.”
“When did you go to this cottage? It’s pretty.”
“Been there a couple of times now. Last was a month ago.”
Nayna happened to glance out the window as Madhuri went to reply to Bailey’s message, and caught sight of Aji and Mr. Hohepa sneaking off with Pixie as their tail-wagging third. No doubt for a “walk.” Turning back on a surge of inexplicable emotion that built inside her like a wave an inch away from breaking, she caught Madhuri’s expression. “Don’t look at Bailey’s messages around the folks. You have the sex face on.”
“I can’t help it. He makes me want to strip off my panties and do a pole dance.” Her phone beeped again before Nayna could respond.
Leaving her sister to answer it, Nayna walked outside—to see that Raj had already beaten her there. He must’ve gone out the front door and walked back around the side of the house—as if he’d left to grab something from his truck.
“Never.” He wondered if he should tell her what other things he’d never done. “Have you?”
She shook her head, her eyes huge and her teeth biting down on her lower lip.
“How about it?” It came out a rough request.
Running her hands down his chest in that possessive petting way that gave him hope, she rolled her lips inside her mouth and when she parted them to speak, they were pink and wet. “Okay,” she whispered. “But you have to figure out how.”
“Leave me to it.” His jeans were ridiculously uncomfortable in the crotch region right now. “I have to go get my cock under control first.”
Her eyes dipped to his jeans, and he saw the pulse jerk in her throat. “I can’t believe you just…”
Loving her scandalized response when he’d sucked and licked her bare breasts not so many nights ago, he bent close to her ear and whispered, “My cock feels like concrete. It wants to be inside your hot and tight—”
“Nayna!” It was a singsong cry from the kitchen. “I didn’t tell the folks you were in here with Raj, but you better show your face soon or you’re busted.”
Raj pushed off the wall. “I’ll see you at midnight.”
21
Happy New Year
Nayna’s breasts were sulking when she walked into the kitchen, so addicted to Raj’s touch that the tiny mounds ached at being denied it. “Where’s Aditi?”
“Keeping the folks distracted.” Madhuri gave her the once-over. “Huh. You don’t look like you’ve been doing anything at all.”
It was a good thing Madhuri didn’t have X-ray vision.
Her sister’s phone beeped before Nayna had to come up with an answer. Pulling it out of her pocket, Madhuri glanced at it. A dreamy look softened her face, her lips curving.
“Who is he?” Nayna asked her sister.
Madhuri was a flirt, had always been a flirt. However, despite what some people might believe, she didn’t take it beyond flirting with most men. Regardless, she had a far richer dating history than Nayna.
Which wasn’t hard since Nayna had never actually been on a date.
As for Madhuri—Nayna didn’t know what their parents believed, but her sister had been dating steadily since the divorce. Madhuri might be commitment-shy, but she liked men, and she liked being around men and being taken care of by men.
Even living alone, Madhuri was never short of male help. The last time Nayna had been over, she’d found Madhuri’s middle-aged landlord helping her sort out a problem with her television. And there’d been nothing slimy about it—the man had just been happy to be around Madhuri’s effervescent feminine presence.
It had always been that way.
Growing up, Nayna had watched in awe as her sister drew male attention at every wedding and every large party to which they were invited. The marriage offers had begun pouring in the instant Madhuri turned eighteen, but their parents had turned them all down.
“We want our daughter to be educated and able to stand on her own feet before marriage,” her father had said to more than one hopeful suitor.
When those suitors had assured Gaurav Sharma that they’d support Madhuri’s continued studies even after marriage, he’d shaken his head. “No, this is old-fashioned. Marriage at eighteen is not what we want for our girl. She should have her university years.”
That, Nayna thought, was partly why it had hurt their parents so awfully when Madhuri eloped at nineteen. She’d thrown egg into Gaurav’s and Shilpa’s faces, caused them even more shame in the community than engendered by the affair with the master’s student. Raj had deliberately been a bastard that time at lunch, but he was also right: there remained families who wouldn’t allow their precious sons within a hundred meters of Madhuri.
Not that Madhuri cared; she had more men in her thrall than she knew what to do with anyway. Six marriage offers had arrived since Pinky’s wedding. Two from divorced males, three from never-marrieds, and one from a man who was separated as of a bare two months ago but already looking. He’d gone directly into the discard pile. No one wanted to be with a jerk.
“Look at this,” Shilpa Sharma had said when she got a message about one of the never-marrieds. “He’s a real estate man, owns that big apartment complex out by where Mina mausi lives.”
Madhuri had been intrigued. “He must be loaded.”
“Yes, but he’s also older than your father,” their mother had said, waving her hand. “Why do these wrinkly old men think they can get the pretty girls?”
“Um, have you seen Nita’s husband?” Nayna had pointed out.
Their mother had shuddered. “He’s going to be dead before she has her first child.”
“I don’t think that’s in Nita’s plans.” Madhuri’s silky voice. “She’s waiting for him to pop off so she can live the high life with a stud.”
Laughing at the wickedness of Madhuri’s words, Shilpa Sharma had moved on to the next offer. “You should go for this Rohan boy instead. The electrician with his own company. Electricians make good money—we had to pay five hundred dollars that time we had the problem! And he’s young and fit.”
Madhuri, of course, was taking none of the offers seriously—and somehow getting away with it. Every time their parents began to push, she’d say she didn’t intend to be a two-time divorcée and planned to take her time choosing the right groom. “Don’t tell Ma and Dad,” she whispered now before turning her phone around so that Nayna could look at the photograph on it. “His name is Bailey.”
Bailey was a surfer dude, complete with a surfboard under his arm and beach-blond hair. His smile was toothpaste white, his skin like a baby’s bottom. “How old is he?” Nayna asked. “Five?”
Madhuri giggled. “Twenty-one,” she said. “I’m the sophisticated older woman who’s teaching him the ways of the world.”
Nayna’s lips twitched. She had to hand it to her sister—Madhuri knew how to live life. “I’m guessing this one isn’t long term?” she said, taking in the pretty cottage behind Bailey the Surfer. It had a name—inscribed on the plaque beside Bailey’s right shoulder: Seagrass.
Madhuri gave a liquid shrug. “Who knows? We’re having fun right now.” Shimmying around the kitchen, she added, “Lots and lots of fun.”
“When did you go to this cottage? It’s pretty.”
“Been there a couple of times now. Last was a month ago.”
Nayna happened to glance out the window as Madhuri went to reply to Bailey’s message, and caught sight of Aji and Mr. Hohepa sneaking off with Pixie as their tail-wagging third. No doubt for a “walk.” Turning back on a surge of inexplicable emotion that built inside her like a wave an inch away from breaking, she caught Madhuri’s expression. “Don’t look at Bailey’s messages around the folks. You have the sex face on.”
“I can’t help it. He makes me want to strip off my panties and do a pole dance.” Her phone beeped again before Nayna could respond.
Leaving her sister to answer it, Nayna walked outside—to see that Raj had already beaten her there. He must’ve gone out the front door and walked back around the side of the house—as if he’d left to grab something from his truck.
