“Don’t say things like that!” She swats my chest and tries to pull away, but I hold her in her place so that she doesn’t get hurt from the studytable.
“Why?” I whisper in her ear, gently nibbling her earlobe. She shudders under my touch.
“It…” She stutters. “It gives me butterflies.” She hides her face in my chest.
I chuckle, gently running my fingers through her hair. “Looks like I will have to do it more then,” I state. She huffs. I look at the family photo she has on her table and adore the little pigtails her younger self has; she definitely looks like her mother.
“I have something for you,” I say as I pull back a little to look into her eyes.
“Something for me?” she asks, her eyes widening slightly, a mixture of curiosity and anticipation in her gaze. I can see the way she’s trying to maintain her composure, but the hint of excitement in her gaze betrays her.
I nod. “Close your eyes,” I say, my voice firm yet gentle. Her eyelids flutter shut and I reach into my pocket, taking out a small jewelry box and opening it.
“You can open it now,” I say softly.
Anya opens her eyes. They widen slightly as she sees the jewelry box. Her gaze flits from the box to my face. “You boughtjhumkasfor me?” she exclaims.
“Eh?” I twist my face in confusion. “What does that word mean?” I question. “Jh—” I try to pronounce it. “Jhumka?” I have successfully butchered it. It sounds like gibberish coming from my mouth.
A small giggle escapes her lips. “They’re earrings,” she says. “But not just any earrings. They’re traditional Indian earrings.” She adds. “I did not bring many because I don’t get to wear Indian clothes that much here, except if I am visiting a temple, which is also rare.” I love how excited she gets when she is talking about India.
“Why did you buy them though?” she asks, peering intently at me.
“Oh.” I scratch my neck. “I was stalking you on Instagram. I saw some old posts. You look pretty in Indian attire, I must say,” I confess.
Her mouth falls open. “Oh shit!” She covers her face with her hands. “I am so embarrassed. I really need to delete those posts,” she remarks.
I frown, taken aback by her reaction. “Why would you say that?”
Anya looks at me and hesitates, her hand still covering her face, but she peeks out from behind her fingers. “It’s just… they’re old pictures and I look so cringe in them,” she explains, biting on her bottom lip.
I chuckle, taking her hand in mine. “I have to make some things clear, I guess.” I narrow my eyes at her. “I will not hear anyone talk shit about my girlfriend.” I pull her forcefully towards me, and she crashes into my chest. Her breath hitches. “Not even you. Keep that in mind,” I say sternly as I bend down and peck her cheek.
“I just—” Before she can complete her sentence, I put a finger on her lips.
“I am very serious, Anya.” I glare at her. She studies my face for a moment and then smiles at me softly.
“Okay,” she breathes out. “Can you help me put them on?”
“Of course, Firecracker,” I say, my voice gentle. “Turn around for me, baby,” I whisper in her hair.
Her body visibly trembles as I run my fingers across her neckline. I can feel the heat radiating from her skin, the soft hitch in her breath. I can feel her pulse quicken under my touch, a steady thrum against my fingertips. “Stay still for me, Firecracker,” I murmur in her ear, my voice low and husky. “Let me put these on you.” I suppress a smirk, loving the way she responds to my touch. I take the earrings gently in my hands.
I gently thread the earrings through her earlobes, careful not to pull too hard. The soft metal against her skingleams, the earrings catching the light beautifully. Leaning in, I press a gentle kiss onto the curve of her neck. Her skin is soft and warm under my lips.
She lets out a soft moan as my lips press against her skin. She tilts her head to the side, giving me more access to her skin. I can feel her body leaning into me, her muscles slackening under my touch. “You look absolutely beautiful with those earrings,” I whisper against her skin, my hands still on her shoulders. “Open your eyes, Anya,” I command.
Her eyes flicker open, a mixture of arousal and admiration in her gaze. Her cheeks are flushed, the heat radiating off her skin. She attempts to speak, but the words seem to get stuck in her throat. I turn her around so she can face me. Her gaze is fixed on my face. I reach out, gently tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.
I lean down, biting her lower lip. Her body involuntarily leans toward mine. Anya’s breath quickens as my teeth graze her lower lip, and my hands trace patterns on her jawline. “You’re so beautiful,” I murmur, my voice low and gruff. My fingers dance along her collarbone, tracing the curves of her body through the thin material of her shirt.
She pants as I cup her right breast. My other hand is still on her neck, holding her in place. Her body feels warm and soft under my touch, the thin material of her shirt not doing much to hide her shape.
I continue exploring her body with my hands, enjoying the way she responds to me. “You’re so responsive. It’s driving me wild,” I say, my hands moving down to her hips, pulling her closer to me, if that’s even possible.
“You want me to kiss you, baby?”
Anya’s response is a gentle nod, a quiet admission of her needs and desires. “Yes.” She breathes out, her words almost strangled by the thickness in her voice.
