The doorbell rang, and Pravesh straightened his shirt, smiling as he opened the door. Neelam stood there, draped in a shimmering chiffon saree that clung to her tall, muscular frame. Her skin glowed under the soft light of the porch, the fragrance of her lotion intoxicating as it wafted toward him. She looks stunning, Pravesh thought, his pulse quickening despite himself. “Neelam, you look beautiful,” he said warmly, pulling her into a hug. His lips brushed her cheek in a polite kiss, but she lingered in his embrace, her hands sliding over his back and torso. He felt the warmth of her palms through his shirt, and for a moment, he let himself enjoy the sensation. Inside, they sat down to dinner, the conversation light but laced with an undercurrent of tension. Neelam’s eyes rarely left his, her laughter a little too bright, her touches a little too lingering. She’s smitten, Pravesh realized, though he tried not to let it show. As the evening wore on, Neelam tilted her head, a coy smile playing on her lips. “Pravesh,” she began, her voice soft, “it’s so lonely in my house tonight. Can I stay here? Just for the night?” He hesitated, then nodded. “Of course. I’ll set up the guest room for you.” When he offered her his nightwear, she shook her head, her smile turning mischievous. “I brought my own.” Pravesh retreated to his room, trying to ignore the way his heart raced. He lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, when he heard the soft creak of his door opening. Before he could react, Neelam slipped under the covers beside him, her body pressing against his. She was wearing a front-open brown nightgown, the fabric barely clinging to her curves. This is wrong, he thought, but before he could speak, her hands were on him—caressing his torso, tracing the lines of his muscles. Her lips found his neck, kissing and licking with a hunger that made him gasp. “Neelam, please,” he whispered, his voice strained. But she ignored him, her hands sliding lower, her breath hot against his skin. “Maan jao na mere raja… ummm,” she murmured, her voice sultry and low. Her tongue flicked over his earlobe, sending shivers down his spine. He tried to push her away, but she was relentless, pulling him out of bed and leading him to the bathroom. There, she poured honey and chocolate sauce over his torso, her tongue following the sticky trails. The warmth of her mouth, the softness of her lips—it was overwhelming, and despite himself, his body responded. “Honey, I missed you so much…hmmm…nothing means as much as you,” she whispered between licks, her hands roaming over his body with possessive intensity. “Neelam, stop,” he pleaded, his voice trembling. But she only smiled, her eyes dark with desire. She turned on the shower, the water cascading over them as she rubbed herbal mud and body wash into his skin. Her touch was slow, deliberate, as if she was savoring every inch of him. Back in the bedroom, Pravesh stood naked, his breath coming in ragged gasps. Neelam knelt before him, her lips tracing patterns on his thighs, her hands gripping his hips. He could feel her breath against him, so close yet too much. “Tu Jo kahe jaaneman bhand ke rakh du samaa…kissa hai ek raat ka…hone na dungi subha Tod de ye badan,” she whispered, her voice a mix of desperation and longing. “Take my heart…take my soul…in the night, no control…take me on…take me all.” But Pravesh shook his head, his voice breaking. “Neelam, I can’t. I respect you too much. And…I already love someone else.” Her hands stilled, and for a moment, the room was silent except for the sound of their breathing. Then she looked up at him, her eyes filling with tears. “Who is she?” “My boss…Ms. Shaifali,” he admitted quietly. Neelam sighed, rising to her feet. “Shaifali is so lucky to have a man like you,” she said softly, her voice tinged with sadness. “If not in this life…then in the next. I want you as my partner.” She turned to leave, but Pravesh caught her hand. “Neelam…” She squeezed his hand gently, then smiled through her tears. “Goodnight, Pravesh.” As she disappeared into the guest room, Pravesh lay back down, his mind racing. The night had been a whirlwind of temptation and resistance

The doorbell rang, and Pravesh straightened his shirt, smiling as he opened the door. Neelam stood there, draped in a shimmering chiffon saree that clung to her tall, muscular frame. Her skin glowed under the soft light of the porch, the fragrance of her lotion intoxicating as it wafted toward him. *She looks stunning,* Pravesh thought, his pulse quickening despite himself.  

“Neelam, you look beautiful,” he said warmly, pulling her into a hug. His lips brushed her cheek in a polite kiss, but she lingered in his embrace, her hands sliding over his back and torso. He felt the warmth of her palms through his shirt, and for a moment, he let himself enjoy the sensation.  

Inside, they sat down to dinner, the conversation light but laced with an undercurrent of tension. Neelam’s eyes rarely left his, her laughter a little too bright, her touches a little too lingering. *She’s smitten,* Pravesh realized, though he tried not to let it show.  

As the evening wore on, Neelam tilted her head, a coy smile playing on her lips. “Pravesh,” she began, her voice soft, “it’s so lonely in my house tonight. Can I stay here? Just for the night?”  

He hesitated, then nodded. “Of course. I’ll set up the guest room for you.”  

When he offered her his nightwear, she shook her head, her smile turning mischievous. “I brought my own.”  

Pravesh retreated to his room, trying to ignore the way his heart raced. He lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, when he heard the soft creak of his door opening. Before he could react, Neelam slipped under the covers beside him, her body pressing against his.  

She was wearing a front-open brown nightgown, the fabric barely clinging to her curves. *This is wrong,* he thought, but before he could speak, her hands were on him—caressing his torso, tracing the lines of his muscles. Her lips found his neck, kissing and licking with a hunger that made him gasp.  

“Neelam, please,” he whispered, his voice strained. But she ignored him, her hands sliding lower, her breath hot against his skin.  

__“Maan jao na mere raja… ummm,”__ she murmured, her voice sultry and low. Her tongue flicked over his earlobe, sending shivers down his spine.  

He tried to push her away, but she was relentless, pulling him out of bed and leading him to the bathroom. There, she poured honey and chocolate sauce over his torso, her tongue following the sticky trails. The warmth of her mouth, the softness of her lips—it was overwhelming, and despite himself, his body responded.  

__“Honey, I missed you so much…hmmm…nothing means as much as you,”__ she whispered between licks, her hands roaming over his body with possessive intensity.  

“Neelam, stop,” he pleaded, his voice trembling. But she only smiled, her eyes dark with desire. She turned on the shower, the water cascading over them as she rubbed herbal mud and body wash into his skin. Her touch was slow, deliberate, as if she was savoring every inch of him.  

Back in the bedroom, Pravesh stood naked, his breath coming in ragged gasps. Neelam knelt before him, her lips tracing patterns on his thighs, her hands gripping his hips. He could feel her breath against him, so close yet too much.  

__“Tu Jo kahe jaaneman bhand ke rakh du samaa…kissa hai ek raat ka…hone na dungi subha Tod de ye badan,”__ she whispered, her voice a mix of desperation and longing. “Take my heart…take my soul…in the night, no control…take me on…take me all.”  

But Pravesh shook his head, his voice breaking. “Neelam, I can’t. I respect you too much. And…I already love someone else.”  

Her hands stilled, and for a moment, the room was silent except for the sound of their breathing. Then she looked up at him, her eyes filling with tears. “Who is she?”  

“My boss…Ms. Shaifali,” he admitted quietly.  

Neelam sighed, rising to her feet. “Shaifali is so lucky to have a man like you,” she said softly, her voice tinged with sadness. “If not in this life…then in the next. I want you as my partner.”  

She turned to leave, but Pravesh caught her hand. “Neelam…”  

She squeezed his hand gently, then smiled through her tears. “Goodnight, Pravesh.”  

As she disappeared into the guest room, Pravesh lay back down, his mind racing. The night had been a whirlwind of temptation and resistance

A handsome banker, Pravesh, finds himself the object of desire for his neighbor, Neelam, a beautiful and muscular school teacher. Neelam, smitten with Pravesh, makes a bold move to seduce him one evening, using sweet talk and her sensual prowess to try and win him over. Pravesh, however, remains steadfast in his respect for Neelam and his love for another, ultimately leading to a bittersweet realization for Neelam.

Forbidden Honeyed Desires of the Night

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