After the intensely sensual sponge bath, Virat’s restraint shattered. His eyes burned with raw, possessive hunger as he gazed at Ishani standing before him in nothing but her tight yellow blouse and petticoat—the blouse straining desperately over her heavy, heaving breasts, nipples dark and erect against the thin fabric, mangalsutra swaying teasingly in the deep valley of her cleavage. The petticoat clung low on her wide hips, accentuating the lush curve of her ass and the soft swell of her belly. Her skin still glistened from the bath's lingering moisture, thighs marked red from his earlier mauling, pussy throbbing visibly through the soaked cotton.

In one swift motion, he pulled her into his arms, her voluptuous body crashing against his naked chest. He buried his face in her damp neck and thick, fragrant hair, inhaling deeply before groaning low and filthy, “Biwi…” The vibration of his voice against her sensitive skin sent electric shocks straight to her core. His massive erection pressed insistently against her belly, hot and throbbing through the thin barrier of her petticoat.