Pari, Ishika, Adhvika, and Zara met at Ishaan’s hotel, where he had made special arrangements for the girls to have the best time together. They got new hairdos, enjoyed a spa session, had lunch, and even watched a movie in the theatre.
By late evening, they returned to the VIP room. Pari stood before the full-length mirror, admiring herself. The bouncy blowout framed her face beautifully, and her curves looked perfect in the reflection. She could almost imagine Ishaan’s hand grazing her body, and the thought made her pulse quicken—she couldn’t wait to meet him.
“Looks like someone is going to have a long night,” Zara whistled at the sight of her.
Pari folded her arms and shot her a playful glare. Zara only smirked, curling her fang with her finger.
“Says the one who’s always busy with Ayaan,” Pari retorted, and Zara stuck her tongue out, earning laughter and teasing from the rest of the girls.
After bidding goodbye to them, Pari drove to Ishaan’s penthouse, her first time visiting.
The sleek, modern car rolled to a stop in the underground parking of the towering high-rise. She swung her handbag off the passenger seat, stepped out gracefully, and headed straight to the private elevator. Her reflection in the polished metal doors showed a confident woman who knew exactly where she was going.
The elevator glided upward in silence before opening onto the top floor. Her heels clicked against the pristine marble as she strode forward. At the entrance, she keyed in the PIN on the digital lock and the soft beep announced her arrival.
The penthouse was draped in shadows, illuminated only by the warm glow of a ceiling night lamp. She tossed her handbag carelessly onto the couch and climbed the stairs to the first floor. Reaching a massive door, she gripped the handle and pushed it open.
The room was still, the dim light casting long, dramatic shadows. Yet she knew he was there. The faint hum of music, the half-finished glass of whisky on the low table—they were all the signs she needed.
Then came the quiet click of the door closing behind her. Her throat went dry, and her fingers fidgeted nervously with the fabric of her gown. The sound of slow, deliberate footsteps drew closer, the sharp, steady taps of his shoes echoing against the marble floor, each one sending a shiver down her spine.
And then she felt him, standing right behind her. His warm breath brushed against her collarbone, his fingers grazing the thin strap of her gown. She swallowed hard as his hand slid, unhurried and certain, around her waist. In an instant, her back was pressed firmly against the solid wall of his chest. She squeezed her eyes shut as his lips brushed her earlobe.
“Beautiful.”
Just that one word. Low. Certain. Dangerous.
Before she could breathe, he turned her to face him, his mouth claiming hers in a fierce, unrelenting kiss. His arm tightened around her waist, pulling her impossibly close, their bodies locked together. Her knees weakened, turning to liquid, but before she could collapse, he caught her effortlessly—one arm holding her aloft as though she weighed nothing, the other sliding to grasp her thigh, his kiss deepening with unrestrained hunger.
Everything was perfect, exactly like her dream, except for one thing. He didn’t have to ask her to kiss him back. She was already lost in the moment, pulling him closer, her fingers buried in his hair. Ishaan grunted in satisfaction, his hand stroking slowly up and down the back of her thigh.
“Ishaan…” she moaned softly, her eyes fluttering shut as his lips trailed lower, finding the rapid thrum of her pulse, sucking hard enough to leave a mark.
He pinned her against the wall, his fingers teasing the delicate strap of her gown. She suddenly started laughing, breaking the spell. Ishaan froze, pulling back just enough to look at her, his brows furrowed in confusion.
“Mood killer,” Ishaan mumbled. Holding her chin, he tried to kiss her, but Pari stopped him, continuing to laugh.
“Ishu, I had a dream and wanted to see if we could recreate it. You won’t believe me, everything happened exactly the same from the moment I stepped into the penthouse.”
Ishaan looked bewildered hearing her words, and Pari wound her arm around his neck. He touched her bouncy hair and traced her forehead with a smile.
“New hairdo looks good, babe. Now tell me about the dream. What did we do? Did I make you blush just like you’re doing now?” Ishaan asked, and Pari shook her head.
“I was wearing a red dress, so I chose this red dress tonight. The room looked dark just like it is now. You said ‘beautiful’ in your hoarse voice and kissed me. Then you pushed me against the wall and continued to kiss me. But in my dream you pushed down my strap, and I tried to hide myself. That cracked me up because I know you wouldn’t do that in real life. The great Ishaan has promised to control himself until we’re married,” Pari said, and then gasped when Ishaan actually pushed down the strap of her gown.
His lips pressed against her collarbone as he sucked, leaving a hickey.
“Bad girl. We shall wait, but a little foreplay doesn’t hurt, would it?”
Ishaan stepped back, and Pari stood holding her gown. His gaze never left her as he unbuttoned his shirt. Pari bit her lip when Ishaan stood in just his pants, throwing his shirt to the floor. He stepped toward her, and she instinctively stepped back with each of his steps. Her leg hit the bed, and she fell back onto it.
Ishaan hovered over her, pressing gentle kisses on her face. He interlaced their fingers and kissed her lips slowly, then began to devour her mouth with hunger.
He let go of her hands and traced the curve of her body.
“You are perfect, Pari—perfect for me to hold your curves, to kiss you, and those long, beautiful legs are perfect to wrap around me. I can’t wait to bury myself in you. You’ll be the death of me,” Ishaan said tracing her cheek with his nose.
Pari’s chest heaved when his palm moved from her abdomen up to the swell of her breast.
Ishaan looked at her gown, barely clinging to cover her mounds. He kissed her chest as his palm groped her bosom. Pari gasped, and Ishaan locked their lips again, his hand continuing to fondle her curves.
He broke the kiss, glancing down at her chest before meeting her eyes, silently seeking her permission. Pari bobbed her head, and Ishaan slowly tugged down the gown that had built-in cups, revealing her bare bosoms.
“They’re gorgeous… and mine, Pari. Look at how perfectly they fit in my palms,” Ishaan murmured, cupping them possessively. He leaned down and latched his lips onto her hardened peaks. Pari arched her back, moaning at the feel of his warm mouth on her sensitive skin.
After their heated make-out, they lay tangled together, bare torsos pressed close, Ishaan absentmindedly stroking her hair.
“Ishu, I haven’t even seen the penthouse yet. You brought me straight to the bedroom,” Pari teased, resting against him.
“It was you who walked into the bedroom first. I just followed. Admit it—you wanted me, and you love us being romantic,” Ishaan countered, pinching her arm playfully.
Pari lifted her chin to rest on his chest and looked into his eyes.
“Of course I love it, Ishu. But you’re the one who wanted to wait until we’re married,” Pari said softly.
Ishaan flicked her nose with a smirk. “Then I’ll take that as my cue to make the move. Be ready, Pari—you’re going to be tied to me forever.”
Pari giggled, slipped off the bed, and pulled her straps back up. She tied her hair into a bun and, with playful energy, leapt onto Ishaan’s back as he carried her out of the room.
He gave her a tour of the penthouse, and Pari was happy and excited to see their photos displayed in every corner. When they reached the kitchen, Ishaan guided her to sit on the island counter. He opened the cabinets and pulled out ingredients to cook dinner. Pari watched him move with effortless grace, the way his muscles flexed with every motion. He looked dangerously hot, and resisting him felt impossible.
Sensing her gaze on his back, Ishaan turned, cocking an eyebrow at her. Pari quickly shook her head, though words betrayed her. He walked over, stood between her legs, and pecked her lips.
“Enjoying the show now, are we?” he teased.
Pari shook her head again, and Ishaan chuckled, brushing a kiss across her cheek.
“Cute,” he murmured with a wink before returning to the cooking.
Later, they settled in the balcony for dinner. Pari sighed, placing her plate on the tea table.
“I think you should wear a shirt. You’re distracting me way too much,” she complained.
Ishaan smirked at the effect he had on her. He tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear, leaning close, his warm breath tickling her ear shell.
“You always have a choice, love. You could try tit for tat… and I wouldn’t mind,” he whispered.
Pari’s eyes widened in shock. She turned to hit him, but Ishaan bolted, and she chased him through the room. Finally, she shoved him onto the couch and straddled him, tugging his hair with mock vengeance. Ishaan hissed at the sting, then grabbed her waist as he freed himself from her grip.
“This position looks really good, baby. How about we try another round of making out?” he suggested with a wicked grin.
Before she could protest, he flipped her over, and their playful banter melted into another heated round.
The next morning, Ishaan stopped his car in front of his office and stepped out to open the door for Pari. Wrapping his arm casually around her waist, he led her forward.
“Ishu, what are you doing? People might see us,” she mumbled.
But Ishaan’s look told her that was exactly his intention. Inside, employees froze in surprise, staring at their boss walking in with his arm draped around Pari’s waist.
He opened the door to his cabin and pulled out his plush chair for her. Pari sat, while Ishaan perched on the edge of the table opposite her.
“So… you planned all of this?” she asked, narrowing her eyes.
Ishaan only shrugged, then turned on the TV. The screen lit up with news flashes of photos—him and Pari entering the office together. Rumors and gossip about their relationship scrolled across the headlines.
“What now?” Pari asked, glancing from the TV to him.
With his hands in his pockets, Ishaan smirked. “Now, we treat the paparazzi to more pictures of us. For the next few days, let’s give them exactly what they want.”
Pari couldn’t help but smile at him.
The next day, Ishaan and Pari arrived at a resort hand in hand, smiling at each other. Ishaan, fully aware they were being followed, leaned closer to Pari’s ear—making it appear as though he was kissing her.
A week later, Ishaan planned for a weekend celebration and together they arrived at the airport. This time, Ishaan purposely removed his mask, revealing his face to the paparazzi, and carried Pari’s handbag—a detail gossipers quickly matched with her previous photos.
In less than two weeks, Pari and Ishaan were everywhere on the news, across social media, their pictures from various occasions and places going viral. They gained a massive fan following, with hashtags shipping them as the perfect couple.
When Ishaan had a business meeting in London, Pari accompanied him, since he wanted to introduce her officially as his girlfriend. After the meeting, they attended a party together.
Ishaan looked sharp in a black tux, while Pari dazzled in an off-shoulder A-line gown. Her hair was styled in a fishtail braid, adorned with a diamond brooch. Together, they lit up the red carpet, and soon their photos flooded social media once again.
Later that night, when they returned to Rey’s mansion in London, Ishaan barely gave Pari a chance to breathe. The moment they stepped inside the room, he pressed her against the wall, his voice thick with desire.
“I can’t wait anymore, Pari. You’re too tempting. Let’s get married, baby.”
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