Dawg I felt soo kinky writing this 🫣
Pyaar Ki Hiraasat
Pairing:Tarun Saluja x Reader x Dev Verma
T.W: MDNI, 18+, Tarun having a bit of boob kink, Pls minors stay away...
Chapter- i
Tarun had been a constant presence in your home for years, long before the tension between you became something you could almost taste. As your family’s lawyer, he was always there, sitting in the grand living room or your parents' study, discussing business with the seriousness of a man who held the world in his hands.
You’d been watching him from the corners of your eyes the way his tailored shirts hugged his broad shoulders, the sharp, intelligent way he navigated a conversation, and that subtle, commanding aura that made even your parents listen a little more closely when he spoke.
At first, he was just Mr.Saluja to the rest of the family, a respected professional who visited often.
But for you, he was the man who made your heart stutter every time he walked through the front door. The shift happened slowly.
A lingering gaze here, a hand brushing yours while he handed you a file there. Then came the private messages, the late night calls, and the way he started picking you up from college in his sleek black Mercedes, hiding the heat between you from the prying eyes of South Bombay.
It was a dangerous, delicious secret, tucked away behind the polished veneer of your family's reputation.
Tonight was your twentieth birthday, and the house was overflowing with people. The air was thick with the smell of expensive catering and the loud, boisterous laughter of your relatives.
You felt restless, the heavy silk of your mini dress rubbing against your thighs, making you crave something much more private than a crowded ballroom. You looked across the room and caught his eye. Tarun was standing near the buffet, looking devastating in a dark suit, sipping a drink while talking to one of your uncles.
You decided to make your move. You reached for a glass of dark red wine, your eyes locked on his, and with a slow motion, you let your hand tilt just enough. The deep red liquid splashed across the front of your light colored dress, a dark stain spreading rapidly over your chest.
"Arre!" you gasped, though the panic in your voice was mostly for show.
You felt the eyes of the room on you for a split second before you looked directly at Tarun.
You caught Tarun’s gaze for a heartbeat longer than was polite, letting a tiny, mischievous wink slip just for him before you turned to your mother.
"Mummy, dekho toh! My dress is ruined," you complained, though your eyes were dancing with a secret thrill.
"I'll just go up and change,but mujhe thoda time lagega." Your mother, busy entertaining a group of diamond traders, merely patted your hand, telling you to take your time.
As you hurried toward the grand staircase, you could feel Tarun’s eyes burning a hole in your back. You didn't have to look to know he was watching the sway of your hips.
A few minutes later, you heard the low, authoritative rumble of his voice downstairs. He had made his move, telling your father that a high profile client was calling with an urgent matter. It was a perfect, professional lie, and you knew he was heading straight for the stairs.
By the time you reached your bedroom, your heart was thudding against your ribs like a trapped bird.
You didn't even bother changing, you just unzipped the ruined dress halfway, letting it hang precariously off your shoulders, leaving you in just your lace bra.
The door clicked shut behind you, and a second later, the heavy footsteps of a man who knew exactly where he was going echoed in the hallway.
The door opened, and there he was. Tarun didn't look like a poised lawyer anymore, his eyes were hooded, filled with a hunger that made your breath catch. He closed the door with a soft thud, locking it, and the sound seemed to echo in the quiet of the room.
He didn't even wait to say a word before he was on you. Tarun crossed the room in long strides, his hands finding your waist and pulling you flush against his hard chest. His mouth crashed onto yours, tasting of expensive whiskey and that cologne he wears, which always makes your head spin.
You let out a muffled moan into his mouth, your fingers tangling in his hair as you pulled him closer, needing to feel every inch of him.
He pulled back just an inch, his forehead resting against yours, his breath coming in heavy, jagged huffs. A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, though his eyes were passionately intense.
"Meri jaan, tum bhi na... kitni smart ho," he whispered, his voice thick and low with praise.
"Pura drama kar liya tumne...just to get me alone."
You let out a breathless laugh, tilting your head back as his lips began to trail fire down your jawline.
"Toh kaam kar gaya na? You're here, aren't you?" you teased, your voice trembling slightly as his hands slid lower, bunching up the silk of your dress.
"Kaam toh bahut kar gaya," he muttered against your skin, his teeth grazing the sensitive spot just below your ear.
He nipped at you, making you arch your back instinctively.
"You have no idea how hard it was to stand there and pretend to listen to your uncle while all I could think about was this. All I could think about was getting you alone."
His hands weren't staying still. One hand moved up, cupping one of your breast through the thin lace of your bra, his thumb grazing your nipple until it peaked hard against the fabric.
You gasped, your eyes fluttering shut as the sensation sent a jolt of pure desire straight to your core. He was so much larger than you, so much more solid, and the way he crowded you against the door made you feel small and completely consumed by him.
"Tarun..." you whimpered, your hands sliding down his chest to the waistband of his trousers, desperate to feel the heat of his skin.
"Shhh, bas dekho," he murmured, his voice dropping a bit.
He broke away from your neck to capture your lips again, but this time the kiss was slower, more torturous. He used his tongue to tease yours, dancing around the edges of your mouth before diving deep, making your head spin.
He began to back you toward the balcony doors, his hands never leaving your body.
Every time his palms slid over your curves, you felt a fresh wave of heat. He pushed the glass doors open, the cool, windy night air of the deck hitting your heated skin, but it did nothing to dampen the fire he was stoking.
He led you out into the open space, the moonlight bathing everything in a silvery glow, and before you could even catch your breath, he hoisted you up.
Your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, your thighs gripping his hips as he sat you down on the smooth stone of the railing.
The wind whipped around you, tugging at your hair and your half undone dress, but all you could focus on was the way he was looking at you like you were the only thing in the world that mattered.
Tarun didn't let you settle for long. He kept you perched on the railing, your legs locked tightly around his waist, while his hands worked with a frantic, desperate energy.
He pulled your dress down past your hips, leaving you in nothing but your lacy underwear and the bra that was barely containing you. The cool night breeze hit your bare skin, making you shiver, but the heat radiating from him was enough to keep you burning.
"Tarun... ruko... koi dekh lega," you whispered, your voice trembling as you glanced back toward the glass doors of your bedroom.
The party was still happening just a few floors below, and the thought of a servant or a relative walking onto the deck made your heart hammer against your ribs.
"Sach mein, someone might come up..."
"Kuch nahi, Jaan," he growled, his voice sounding almost primal.
He leaned in, burying his face in the crook of your neck, his breath hot and heavy.
"Koi nahi aayeg,. Everyone is too busy with the food and the drinks. Just focus on me."
He pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes dark with a hunger that felt almost predatory. He reached out, his large hands cupping your breasts through the lace, squeezing them with a firm, possessive pressure that made you gasp.
He unclasped your bra, hooking his thumbs into the tops of your bra cups, slowly pulling the fabric down until your heavy, aching breasts were fully exposed to the moonlight.
You let out a soft, broken moan as he leaned forward, his mouth engulfing one nipple at a time. He was relentless, his tongue swirling around the sensitive peak before he began to suckle deeply, his teeth grazing you just enough to make you arch your back and cry out.
"Tarun! Aah!" You clamped a hand over your own mouth, terrified your voice would carry.
He chuckled, the vibration of it felt against your skin. He moved his hands down, pulling your bra away entirely so you were completely bare to the night air.
He began to play with you, his thumbs rubbing circles over your areolas while he used his mouth to tease the undersides of your breasts. Then, he shifted, his eyes never leaving yours as he began to unbuckle his belt.
He worked his trousers down just enough to free himself, his thick, pulsing length springing free. Instead of going straight for you, he positioned himself between your breasts.
You watched, breathless, as he pressed the hot, velvet skin of his cock against the valley of your cleavage. He began to slide up and down, the friction of his skin against your soft, sensitive breasts making you feel like you were about to melt.
"Oh god, Tarun..." you whimpered, your hands reaching out to guide him, your fingers brushing against the hard heat of him.
The sensation was overwhelming the cool wind on your back, the moonlight on your skin, and the intense, sliding friction of him between your breasts. You felt so full, so alive, and so incredibly naughty.
He picked up the pace, his movements becoming more rhythmic and forceful. He was watching your face, watching the way your eyes rolled back and your lips parted, clearly enjoying the power he had over you.
He leaned in, his chest pressing against yours, making the friction even more intense as he slid between your breasts, his cock slicking with your natural moisture.
The friction of him sliding between your breasts was almost too much to bear, a delicious torture that had you trembling so hard you feared you might slip right off the railing.
Tarun seemed to sense your desperation, the way your hips were bucking instinctively, seeking a release that was still just out of reach.
He slowed his pace, his eyes locking onto yours with a heavy, knowing intensity that made you feel completely exposed.
"Abhi toh sirf shuruat hai, meri jaan," he murmured, his voice a low, vibrating hum that seemed to settle deep in your belly.
He began to move his hands down, his fingers tracing the line of your stomach before sliding lower, parting your thighs.
You felt the cool air hit your most sensitive parts, a sharp contrast to the feverish heat of his skin. He didn't rush. He was a man who knew the value of a slow burn, and right now, he was playing with your sanity. His fingers teased the edges of your lace panties, brushing against your soaking wet folds with a lightness that was agonizing.
"Tarunnn... please," you pleaded, your voice a mere thread of sound.
You were leaning back against the railing, your head lolling back as the wind tossed your hair. The fear of being caught was still there, a sharp spike of adrenaline in your chest, but it was being drowned out by the sheer, overwhelming need for him to touch you.
He slid his hand inside the lace, his long, warm fingers finding your clitoris. He didn't press hard, instead, he circled it with agonizing slowness, his touch so light it was almost teasing.
You let out a choked sob, your hands gripping the cold stone of the railing so hard your knuckles turned white. Every time he thought you were about to peak, he would pull back just a fraction, leaving you hovering on the very edge of madness.
Then, he moved. He slid down from the railing, dropping to his knees on the deck. The sight of him there, the powerful, commanding Tarun Saluja kneeling before you in the moonlight, made your heart skip a beat. He looked up at you, his dark eyes reflecting the stars above, before he leaned in.
The first touch of his tongue was a shock to your system. It was warm, wet, and incredibly precise. He didn't go straight for the center, he started by licking the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, his breath hot against your skin, before slowly working his way up.
You were gasping now, your breath coming in short, jagged hitches as he finally made contact with your swollen, aching core.
He began to use his tongue with a rhythmic, swirling motion. He was absolutely relentless, his mouth engulfing you, his tongue flicking against your clitoris with a pressure that was perfectly calibrated to drive you insane.
You felt the world around you begin to blur. The sounds of the party below, the wind, the distant city lights it all faded into a singular, pulsing sensation of pleasure.
"Tarun... You're g-gonna be the death of me..." you cried out, your fingers digging into his shoulders as you felt the first waves of an orgasm beginning to crash over you.
it felt like a total sensory overload. You felt like you were floating, like you were actually seeing the stars he had promised. Every flick of his tongue sent a new jolt of arousal through your nerves, making your vision swim and your muscles quiver uncontrollably.
He didn't let up. As you neared the peak, he increased the intensity, his suction becoming deeper, more demanding. He was drinking you in, his hands gripping your hips to hold you steady as you shook.
The sensation of his tongue was almost too much to bear, a beautiful, agonizing torture that left you trembling so violently you thought you might actually fall from the railing.
Just as you felt the first tremors of a massive, soul shaking orgasm beginning to take hold, Tarun pulled back. He looked up at you, his face flushed, his lips glistening with your moisture, and the sudden absence of his heat left you feeling achingly empty.
"Don't worry Meri Jaan, Ab aur intezaar nahi hota," he groaned, his voice thick and strained.
He stood up, his eyes dark with a sense of hunger. He didn't even bother to fully adjust himself, he simply gripped the edge of the railing with one hand and reached for you with the other, guiding your hips to align with his.
He guided his thick, pulsing length to your entrance, the blunt head of his cock teasing your soaking wet folds. You were so sensitive, so incredibly primed, that the mere touch of him made your entire body arch instinctively toward him.
"Tarun... jaldi... please," you whimpered, your hands clutching his shoulders, your nails digging into the expensive fabric of his suit.
With one powerful, decisive thrust, he buried himself inside you.
A loud, broken gasp escaped your lips, your head snapping back as you felt him fill you completely. He was so large, stretching you in a way that felt both overwhelming and perfectly right. The sensation of him sliding deep into your core, hitting that sweet spot with every movement, made your vision go white for a split second.
"Oh god... tum kitni tight ho, meri jaan," he hissed through clenched teeth, his eyes fluttering shut as he fought to maintain control. He stayed still for a moment, letting you adjust to the sheer fullness of him, his forehead resting against yours as your breaths mingled in the cool night air.
Then, he began to move.
He started with slow, deep, grinding thrusts that made you feel every single inch of him. His hips slamming against yours with a rhythmic, heavy force that echoed the pounding of your heart. The railing creaked slightly under the weight of your bodies, a sound that sent a fresh wave of panic and arousal through you.
"Tarun... koi... koi sun lega..." you gasped, but the warning was lost as he picked up the pace.
He was relentless. His thrusts became faster, harder, more primal. He gripped your waist so tightly his fingers left marks on your skin, his movements driving you higher and higher toward a peak you couldn't escape.
The friction was intense, the heat between your bodies clashing with the cool wind, creating a sensory storm that left you breathless. You felt like you were being torn apart and put back together all at once.
"Mujhe dekho. Y/N," he commanded, his voice a low groan.
You forced your eyes open, meeting his intense, burning gaze. He was watching the way your face contorted with pleasure, the way your breasts bounced with every heavy impact of his hips.
The friction of his cock against your G spot, combined with the frantic, heavy rhythm of his thrusts, finally pushed you over the edge. You let out a long, high pitched moan, your body tightening around him in a series of pulsing contractions.
You felt the orgasm crash over you like a tidal wave, a blinding, white hot explosion of sensation that made your entire world dissolve into pure pleasure.
Seconds later, you felt him stiffen, his breath catching in his throat as he let out a low, guttural roar. He buried himself as deep as he could go, his entire body shuddering as he came inside you, his release so powerful you could feel the warmth of it flooding your core.
He held you there, pinned against the railing, both of you gasping for air, your hearts racing in unison as the stars above seemed to dance in the wake of your ecstasy.
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The next morning, the sunlight streamed through the floor to ceiling windows of your bedroom, warm and unapologetic.
You woke up feeling a delicious, heavy ache in your limbs, a lingering reminder of Tarun’s hands and the way the moonlight had felt on your skin.
You stretched, a soft smile playing on your lips, completely unaware that the peace of your life was about to shatter.
You wandered downstairs, your hair a messy nest, feeling a bit groggy. The house felt unusually quiet with your parents away on their business trip to Surat, but the familiar scent of breakfast brought a sense of comfort.
On the dining table sat a plate of steaming poha, garnished perfectly with sev and pomegranate seeds, and with it a steaming cup of coffee.
You sat down, the warmth of the plate grounding you, and began to eat, savoring the flavors. The house felt peaceful, almost too quiet, but you didn't think much of it. You were just thinking about your plans for the day it was Saturday, and you were supposed to meet Tarun at his place in a couple of hours, Ever since that Rohan Khurana case and Tarun loosing his license for 6 months,He has been free to mess around with you.
"Beti, tumhare mummy aur papa toh subah hi nikal gaye,"
the housemaid, Shanti, said as she walked into the dining room, wiping her hands on her apron.
Her voice was casual, but there was something different about the way she was watching you.
"Surat chale gaye hain kaam se. Aaj ghar pe tum akele hi ho."
You paused, a spoonful of poha halfway to your mouth.
"Accha? Unhone bataya nahi," you muttered, feeling a slight prickle of unease.
It wasn't unusual for them to travel, but the emptiness of the house suddenly felt a lot heavier.
You finished your breakfast quickly, washed your plate, and headed toward the grand staircase to get ready. You were halfway up when you felt a presence behind you.
Before you could turn, Shanti was there, her shadow falling over you. She wasn't wearing her usual subservient smil,; instead, her eyes were filled with a terrifying kind of greed.
"Suniye..." she started, her voice dropping to a low, conspiratorial whisper that made the hair on your arms stand up.
She stepped closer, cornering you against the mahogany banister.
"Akele ghar mein rehna thoda khatarnak ho sakta hai, haina? Khaas kar jab aapke paas kuch aise raaz hon jo duniya ke saamne aa jayein."
You frowned, trying to maintain your composure.
"Kya matlab hai aapka,, Shanti? Kya keh rahe he aap?"
She let out a small, dry chuckle, a sound that sent a chill straight to your bones.
She reached into the pocket of her apron and pulled out her phone, turning the screen toward you. Your heart stopped. It was a video grainy, but unmistakable. It was you and Tarun on the deck, the moonlight catching the curve of your back and the intimacy of your movements. The sight of your own secret, exposed in the hands of a servant, made the blood drain from your face.
"Yeh video bahut sundar hai na?" she asked, her eyes gleaming with malice.
"Lekin agar yeh aapke mummy papa ne dekh liya, toh unka kya hoga? Aur aapki woh 'reputation'... sab mitti mein mil jayegi."
You felt a wave of nausea hit you.
"Tumhe... tumhe kya chahiye?" you stammered, your hands trembling as you gripped the railing.
Shanti leaned in even closer, the smell of spices and sweat clinging to her.
"Mujhe bas paisa chahiye...Ek crore rupaye... aur yeh video hamesha ke liye gayab ho jayegi. Agar nahi diye... toh kal subah tak yeh poore Bombay mein phail jayega."
The ultimatum hung in the air, heavy and suffocating. You looked at her, seeing not a servant, but a threat. You realized then that she was holding your entire life hostage.
And you knew, deep down, that even if you paid her, she would never stop. She would keep coming back, demanding more, more and more, until you were completely bled dry.
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