Chapter 18 Deepak

Chapter 18 Deepak

Text messages from one year and four months ago:

DEEPAK: Look, if you steel my Columbia grad sweatshirts every time you sleep over after a movie marathon, I'm literally going to

run out of all my favorite ones.

VEERA: Oh no! The bazillionaire is without a sweatshirt!

DEEPAK: LOL. Shut up.

The wedding reception was the distraction Deepak and Veera needed. It had been a few weeks since the visit to his parents'

estate, and the feel of Veera's orgasm and their café kiss was like a hazy fantasy that kept Deepak up at night. With the

way that Vee grumbled at him every morning, he knew that she was having a few sleepless nights of her own.

Now their party and first major public appearance as a couple had arrived, which meant that they would most likely have a

legitimate reason to kiss again.

Deepak looked forward to it as he slipped his diamond cuff links through the small holes of his French cuff button-down and straightened the lines of his three-piece suit. It was in a monochrome jet-black color that matched the shade of his styled thick black hair.

His mother had sent the suit over a few days ago while Bobbi had forwarded a to-do list in a spreadsheet that required two

Tylenol to understand.

Deepak glanced in the mirror long enough to confirm that he looked presentable for pictures and his family's expectations.

He adjusted his thin gold wedding band, checked the time on his grandfather's watch, and when he saw that they were going

to be late if they didn't leave soon, he walked out of his suite and into the stairwell. "Vee? We have ten minutes before

the car gets here."

"Just go ahead without me," the muffled reply called back.

Okay, he should probably tell his driver they needed another ten. He sighed, then began climbing the stairs to the guest bedroom

floor. He turned left at the top of the stairs and knocked on the door at the end of the hall.

"Vee?"

"I'm decent," came the irritated reply.

When he entered the room, he saw that she was standing in the middle of her chaotic clutter in a state of delicious undress.

Her deep maroon blouse with gold detail at the cap sleeves, hem, and neckline was barely fastened at the center of her back.

The long tassels that were supposed to secure the blouse in place were opened and fell in long thin ropes to her waist. She

wore a voluminous purple-and-red lehenga that was unbuttoned at the hip, and her phone played a YouTube video of a woman trying

to fold pleats into a dupatta.

"Uh-oh," Deepak said.

"Uh-oh is right!" Veera replied, as she held up the heavily embroidered fabric in one fist. He realized that she was wearing makeup again. Her face was artfully painted in the same way she'd looked during their staged wedding photos, except somehow, her lashes were now thicker. They fluttered with irritation. There was also a simple round bindi in the middle of her forehead, and her hair was in a loose braid draped over one shoulder.

"What exactly is happening?" he asked.

"I'm supposed to wear this dupatta a specific way and pin it in place, but this is way more complicated than a damn sari,"

she said in a rush. "My mother used to do this for me when I was younger. Then, I just stopped wearing complicated duputtas."

"As the bride, you have to wrestle with all that fabric, huh?" he asked. He stepped farther into the room and nudged aside

a pair of heels that she'd discarded next to the doorway.

"Thank you, Captain Obvious." She tugged at the hem of her blouse to try and cover the small strip of exposed belly skin.

He was tempted to reach out and brush his fingers against the soft rich brown color of her abdomen, but he gritted his teeth

and focused on the task at hand.

"Do you have something else you can wear?"

Her eyes were bright now with panic. "My mother sent this over for me. She wanted me to wear it, and it's going to be the

first time I see her in person since we're back. I've talked to her over the year, but this is going to be different, and

I want to make her... I want to wear this."

"Ahh," Deepak said, aware that his sound of understanding was probably the most unhelpful response he could give her at that

moment. "What can I do?"

"I don't know," she said, her voice beginning to waver.

He'd never met a woman who had an immediate cry response at stress the way Veera did. It was both endearing and panic inducing at the same time. Right now, she was beautiful, and half naked, and he wanted to tell her to strip out of the lehenga and to lie with him.

Which was not a helpful recommendation in the slightest.

Deepak reached for her phone and reset the video from the beginning. He watched as the woman began rapidly pleating the dupatta.

The movements were familiar, since he remembered as a child watching his grandmother do the same thing to her chunni right

before she left the house. Using her index finger and middle finger, the instructor on the screen pinched the fabric back

and forth until it resembled a folding fan.

"Okay, let's do this together," he replied. Then he shrugged out of his suit coat and draped it over the foot of the unmade

bed.

He had every intention of behaving himself, of helping her into the outfit, then ushering her into his car, so they could

head out to the venue with more than enough time to spare.

But when he stood in front of her to remove the dupatta from her shoulder, she stopped him with a hand on his wrist.

"What is it?"

Veera shook her head, pressed her hands against his chest and leaned into him. Deepak's hands went to her waist, and he felt

the soft skin of her exposed hip where the lehenga skirt still needed to be tied.

"Veera?"

"I feel like I'm going to be the runaway wife," she said, as she sucked in air in one hard gulp. "If this was a business meeting,

I'd have no trouble at all. But our extended family is going to be there. The entire board. Some of my coworkers I haven't

seen since I was let go from the business."

He stroked a hand over her naked back, and his fingers brushed against the barely secured clasp at her shoulder blades. One soft nudge, and it would come undone.

"It's going to be fine," he said. Then he leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to her collarbone, so that he didn't disturb

her makeup. "It's going to be okay."

"I-I need..."

"What? What is it?"

She let out a shuddered breath. "I'm sorry, it's ridiculous. I'm tense and we haven't talked about it since the café."

"Talked about what?"

Her lashes fluttered again, and the ruby-red painted lips parted with a soft sigh. "What if we need..."

That's when it registered what she was asking for. She needed release, and he was the one who could give it to her. His cock

swelled, and his fingertips tucked into the waistband of her lehenga. They moved impossibly closer until her breasts brushed

against his chest. With every intake of breath her nipples scraped gently over his upper abdomen.

"What do you need?" he whispered.

He could see the color deepen in her cheeks. She averted her eyes, but he pinched her chin and tilted her head up, so she

met his gaze.

"Help me, Deepak."

His fingertips unhooked her blouse at her back, and fabric loosened over her shoulders, her breasts were a careless tug away

from being exposed.

"Sit on your bed," he said.

With their eyes locked, she followed instructions and lowered to the edge of her mattress. He got to his knees in front of

her. "I need you to lie back, Vee."

Without hesitation, she did what he asked. He could see the underside of her bare breasts from this vantage point, her nipples concealed by her loose blouse. Then he slid his hands under her lehenga, and careful to make sure there would be no wrinkles, he folded the fabric back until it pooled at her waist. When she gave him a barely perceptible nod, he bent her legs to rest her heels on the edge of the bed.

She wore payal. The anklets had a tiny cluster of bells that chimed gently when he touched them. His fingertips brushed over

her exposed skin, sliding down the insides of her thighs, relishing her trembling anticipation, before touching the crotch

of her black lace panties, which were now fully exposed. A damp spot formed between her lips, and he stroked a fingertip down

the transparent fabric.

Veera moaned and her knees fell open a little farther.

"You're aching for me, aren't you, wife?" Deepak said softly, and he felt her tremble when he pressed a kiss to her inner

thigh. "You're wound so tight."

"Deepak," she said, breathlessly.

He folded up the sleeves of his dress shirt, then he picked up her phone and set a timer. They only had five minutes otherwise

they'd be late, but that would be enough. He tossed the phone next to her on the bed so he could see the digits as they began

to count down.

Deepak gripped the waistband of her panties and tugged them off. He carefully removed his tie and tossed it next to her panties

before repositioning her legs exactly the way he wanted them.

In the bright lights of her room, he could see her plump labia, and the delicious wetness of her sweet pussy. He was starving,

and he wanted to eat her up.

Draping her legs over his shoulders, he started at the side of her knee, trailing kisses until he reached the swollen heat of her and gave her one hard, long lick.

Veera gasped, moaning his name. Her fingers dove into his hair as he circled her clit with the tip of his tongue and sucked

hard and fast. Then holding her thighs in place, he feasted on her every tremble, every gasp, every quiver as he drank her

pleasure and her cries. He felt her tense impossibly harder, then slipped two fingers inside, curling up as he relentlessly

focused on the delicate places that made her scream.

He watched her over the curve of her mound, over the bunched fabric of her lehenga, as she exposed her breasts, and her fingertips

squeezed her dark, peaked nipples. He heard the chime of her anklet as her feet bounced against his back with every rolling

thrust of her hips against his mouth. And then when her body was wound so tight, so impossibly tense, he pushed a third finger

inside of her, and, fucking her with deep strokes, he flicked her clit then blew gently on her swollen skin.

Veera screamed so loud that he was sure the neighboring town house could hear as her orgasm crashed through her body, and

she shuddered as she flooded his fingertips. He almost came in his pants at the feel of her clenching. Her pleasure was a

precious gift and he'd been blessed to savor it on his tongue.

They were both breathing heavily when the timer went off.

Deepak slipped her legs off his shoulders, got to his feet, and walked into the adjoining bath to run warm water over a hand

towel he retrieved from the lower cabinet. She was still gasping for air when he returned, her legs spread wide, her lehenga

still pooled around her waist. The blouse that had come undone had been gently moved in place to cover her nipples, but Veera's

eyes remained closed.

He carefully wiped away the remnants of her orgasm and folded the towel before he set it aside. Then Deepak gripped her hands and pulled her up to a seated position.

"Are you all right?" he said softly.

She nodded, her expression drowsy, and sweetly sated. Then she motioned to the tent in his pants. "What about—"

He ran a thumb over the curve of her jaw and tilted her face up to his. "One day, I want to fuck your mouth," he said. "But

right now, we're running late to our own wedding reception. We should go. I'll be fine."

The crudeness of his words had her eyes opening and her hands holding the blouse over her breasts. "Deepak," she said.

"I know," he said. "Let's get going." He helped her to her feet and turned her around so he could fasten her blouse.

Her body was relaxed and pliant as he turned her left and right to adjust her lehenga skirt, then tied it at her hip. Deepak

played the YouTube video tutorial again to watch how to pleat her dupatta, and he was able to quickly make the folds. She

held it to her shoulder as he pinned it in place, then draped it behind her back and into the waistband of her lehenga where

he fastened another pin.

Neither of them spoke as they finished getting dressed. Veera retrieved another pair of panties from the dresser and stepped

into them, and he folded down his sleeves and refastened his tie.

As she retrieved her juttis, he saw the set of baliyan earrings on the dresser and picked one up. He unscrewed the backing

and moved to Veera's side. While she began to fuss with her lipstick, he slipped the post in her earlobe and screwed on the

backing. Because he couldn't help it, he flicked the small dangling umbrella so the earring let out a musical tinkle sound.

Veera smiled but didn't comment as he reached for the second earring and did the same. Then he picked up her mangalsutra, the diamond pendant he'd bought from Goa on the gold-and-black beaded chain. A symbol of their spiritual marriage and commitment to each other. He stepped around her so that he could loop the necklace over her head and fasten it at the nape of her neck. When he looked over her head at their image in the mirrors, he saw the way the top of her head reached his shoulder blade. The glitter of her bangles on her wrist, and the ring on her finger that said she belonged with him.

Veera was stunning and he'd work every day of his life making up for the time he didn't appreciate her. He'd do his damnedest

to show her that he felt so lucky to have her in his life. And if he was successful, maybe he'd convince her that they were

good enough for the long haul.