Whose fault was this, really? He stops again. As I glare at the cupboards past his head, he gently takes my chin between his fingers. “Yes, it was....You said she hit you first.” “She did,” I reply. “Then good,” he snaps back. “You and I weren’t doing anything wrong Chanel. She got fucking jealous seeing you in bed with me, but her and I aren’t together, as you’ve known. As it’s been made pretty fucking clear now.” I bite my lip watching his intensity. He’s staring at me, searching my eyes. I signalled her to be watchful of the surrounding so that she can give me warning if she sense any trouble. That was the first time I have to be off-guard and rely on her senses almost fully. In this pose I looked like a child cuddled on to the lap of his mother. Only difference is that I might look like an overgrown child. I turned my head a bit so that I have my face buried between her thighs. My hand clutched on her thighs over her saree. I inhaled her divine smell from close quarters. While. More

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