Chapter 1
She's watching her, watching herself in the mirror, adjusting her sari for the umpteenth time.
Rhea rises from the chaise lounge, stalking toward the vanity mirror, standing behind Pragya. "Stop it, you're beautiful."
Pragya catches her hazel eyes through the reflection, and smiles. "If you say so."
"You are, Pragya." Rhea insists, and they both know she's serious when calls Pragya by her name, which she seldom does.
"Baccha (Baby)-." Pragya tries to protest when Rhea's nimble fingers slide off the pleated cloth draped over Pragya's shoulder, bowing her head to press her lips to the bare skin, and Pragya shivers.
Pragya eyes never leave Rhea's, as the latter's shimmer with specs of gold, a trick of light, maybe something more. Rhea's arm encircle her waist fingertips ghosting across the stretch marks she had been trying to hide on her exposed mid-drift, and she arches into the touch.
Any other day Pragya's sari would be torn and on the floor in seconds, with Rhea promising to buy her another, her Baccha is not patient. But today Rhea takes sweet time, unraveling Pragya's sari, piece by piece, baring her every insecurity.
The blouse is first to fall away, her breasts jiggle free of their confines. Rhea marvels at the sight, and Pragya moans when Rhea cups her rounded breasts from behind, a perfect fit in Rhea's hands. "You're so beautiful."
A flush rises on Pragya's cheeks, she has to tear her eyes away from the mirror and rotate in Rhea's arms, nose to nose, not inverted reflections. Pragya's lips ghost against Rhea's. "Stop teasing me, Baccha." Pragya captures Rhea's lips in a kiss.
Rhea doesn't need to be told twice, they stumble to the bed, in a lip lock that Pragya withdraws from solely to pull Rhea's sweater off, gliding her hands over Rhea's toned stomach.
Pragya's head hit the pillows, and Rhea's lips nip, suck, kiss, and whisper sweet nothings into her skin. From the contours of her face to the pads of her feet, a trail of fire, leaving no part of her untouched, no part of her that didn't belong to Rhea.
Her heated center adorned with a small bush of hair was pulsating with need, her clit protruding and swollen. When Rhea's head disappeared between her thighs, gasping Pragya's entire body jolted off the mattress with just one flick of Rhea's tongue.
But Rhea held Pragya's hips firmly in position, lapping up her wetness like it was sweet nectar and not sea water. Nipping and sucking on her cilt, alternating between the two, keeping Pragya on edge. "Oh God, yes." She cooed, breathily, extending her arm outward to cup the crown of Rhea's head, stroking her raven hair, encouraging her.
Pragya never knew she could feel so loved, desired... wanted. She never knew this could feel so good. She never knew sex could be for a woman's pleasure, sex is something only men want, is what society taught her, and her husband- now ex-husband Abhishek only affirmed their claims. It was only always about his pleasure, never hers. She remembers when she didn't even know women could orgasm, how naive. Now not a day goes by where Rhea doesn't bring her to a earth shattering orgasm at least once.
She likes to joke that her Baccha has horse stamina but the truth is Rhea is just younger than she is. Their relationship is not something society would approve of- even Pragya didn't approve of them at first. Dismissing Rhea's advances to be a childish crush, or even a prank to annoy Prachi and Shahana, her daughters.
Rhea's tongue drew circles around her entrance, before dipping the tip of it inside, making her groan and fist Rhea's hair, pushing Rhea's head deeper into her core. It hit her for the gazillionth time, Rhea was old enough to be her daughter, and in truth she was, the daughter she abandoned in the separation with her husband, but neither knew yet.
At present, Pragya bucked her hips into Rhea's face, her stomach muscles taught, chasing her release, they were purely two lovers, untainted by reality.
A teacher and a student, a mother and a daughter, a 20-year-old girl, with a 40-year-old woman.
Though Pragya's baby face made her look not much older than Rhea. Her figure, well-maintained, slim, and curvy. Even so, on occasion she couldn't avoid feeling insecure about her body. But the ways in which Rhea worshipped her body like it was a temple, the English papers that became secret love letters between them, eradicated her every insecurity.
For the first time in a long time, Pragya felt rewarded by fate, in form of Rhea, a false oblivion, they were- by definition of societal constructs, constrained and ill-fated from the start.
Her body tensed at the impending doom, Rhea could read her like a book and let go of her hips to trail a hand up her body, tongue flicking her cilt rhythmically, pinching one of Pragya's hardened tits between her fingers, a trickle of milk oozing out of the slit.
Pragya's orgasm, much like Rhea's entry in her life, came like a wrecking ball, and she cried out "Rhea!" Which if not for the soundproof walls the whole Mehra family would have heard, Rhea continued to eat her out, lapping up her juices, riding her through the aftershocks of her orgasm.
Rhea raised her head when Pragya's body quit jerking, and grinned, sprawling forward to capture her lips in a kiss.
Pragya could taste herself on Rhea's tongue, and something familiar poking against her thigh, her lips, trailed kisses up Rhea's defined jawline to her ear, her breath tickling Rhea as she whispered seductively. "Your turn, Baccha."
