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The First Word

Ron's throat works once, twice, before the sound comes—hoarse, scraped raw, a word she has never heard him speak in that tone. 'You.' The rain pounds the window as he says it again, his hand lifting, fingers brushing the wet edge of her saree where it clings to her shoulder. Karnali's knees press harder into the floorboards, the cold forgotten, because his eyes have not left her mouth and his cock is hard again, and the space between them has become a question she must answer with more than silence.