Mere Rang me rangnewali - a RiKara OS (16+)

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"Hume laga aap painting karne ke liye hume yah le aaye," she looks around the room curiously. There are paintings all over the place, all of them have her as the subject, doing meaningless stuff. A huge bed is pushed against the furthest wall, the covers pulled up.

He responds by sliding his palm across her exposed waist. "Paint hi to kar raha hu tumhe," he pulls her slightly towards himself before whispering in a husky tone. She yelps as she feels the wetness, looking down to find his paint-smeared fingers dancing across her midriff. In the moments when she has been distracted by the several paintings stashed around the huge room, he has opened up several bottles of paints, his hands now stained with a deep red colour.

"Kya kar rahe hai aap?" she squirms in his hold, automatically trying to get out as the paint threatens to drip onto her pale and expensive saree.

"Kaha to ki tumhe paint kar raha hu. You're my canvas tonight," he answers, his fingers tracing a wet path on her spine to reach the knot that holds her blouse together on her back. She shivers; the paint feels cold to the warmth that emanates from the rest of his body.

"You'll ruin the saree," she protests weakly as his fingers dip dangerously lower, just right where she has tied her saree.

"I don't care. Anyway, you'd look much better when out of it," he declares, hands successfully pulling out the tucks. They come off easily, startling a gasp out of her as his hands simultaneously yank her head back to press his lips against her throat. His lips start a hike downwards, the undone knot helping him to push her blouse out of the way. Omkara's exploring lips are joined by his teeth quite suddenly, causing a pleased gasp to escape her lips and just like that she stops caring about her garment. His fingers draw a line up her ribs and come to a stop right under her breast, the blouse getting in the way.

His other hand spans her tiny waist, rubbing sticky circles on her lower back. She throws her head back in pleasure when he bites down on her upper chest, teasing the skin until she whimpers in his hold, her own hand slipping to his hair. One hand clutches on to his shoulder, fingers digging in the expensive fabric. She tries to get the barrier off, wanting to feel his skin under her own fingers but right then he pulls the blouse off and proceeds to use his fingers to paint indistinct patterns on the underside of her breast and she promptly forgets everything else. All that remains is the sensation of his hands on her while his mouth works on her neck. A strangled moan leaves her lips, her hands fist painfully in his hair while he continues his torture using both lips and hands.

"Om...Ka...Raaa..." she drags out his name in three different syllables. He smirks against her skin, lips moving further lower. She goes limp in his arms, glad that he is holding her up. It is unlike anything they have ever done and the inclusion of paint feels raw, intimate and almost sacred.

"Shame that paint is inconsumable." She hears his voice sound quite distant, not even noticing it when his hands undo her skirt to join her saree on the floor. He dips his hand in the jar again to bring his fingers right to the middle of her back, the cold paint trickles down her spine leaving a delicious sensation behind. His lips travel back to her neck, tongue snaking out to trace her collarbone. "I would have happily covered you in my colours, top to toe but the taste of paint is not something I want to know," he murmurs before taking her earlobe in his teeth and tugging lightly.

"And right now, kissing you is my top priority," he murmurs, teeth still against her neck.

She groans, more in reaction to his husky words, hands working frantically at his shirt before finally divesting him of the offending garment. He slides his fingers towards her hips, lingering to draw some patterns and coax a harsh moan from her. His hands end up on her thigh, pulling her closer with a tug before curving along and easing her leg up to hook around his waist. Securing her legs around his waist and taking her entire weight, he switches the sides of her neck to suck a dark mark just above her collarbone. She mumbles out a version of his name with a moan, fingers fisting in his hair.

He feels his own control ebbing away as incoherent words tumble off her lips, her almost bare body pressed against his.

"I never thought I'd say this, but I wish there was edible paint available," he confides in her as he walks them over to the bed. His fingers trace the ridges of her spine before settling on her lower back. "A part of me wants to kiss every single inch of you all over while the other wants to paint you, using all the colours out there." he drops her on the bed, taking a step back to admire her as she lies against the white sheets with blood red colour staining her body. Her hair too holds faint traces of the red paint, nothing they won't be able to get rid of, especially if he was to help her in the shower, he muses with delight.

She raises her hand to beckon him, her body desperate in need as he stands there just staring at her. He lowers himself on the bed, balancing his weight on his elbow. She squirms under him as he refuses to move, instead looks at her with mischief in his eyes. He is teasing her, she realises when he still hovers above her with a smirk, keeping her body trapped under his own.

"Om, please," she begs when his fingers glide down her side, tracing just the side of her breast and ribs. She uses her breathy voice, a hoarse sound which is a weapon that always works on him, making him give in. Her nails dig in his back, leaving marks and he groans in pleasure.

She ends up being right again, he lets go and crushes her body under his; lips against hers hungrily.

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"You didn't sign your work," she traces the hard planes of his abdomen as she lies against him, noticing the comfortable softness of the mattress for the first time before turning slightly to change side.

"I left my signature everywhere Gauri. But I don't mind signing you as mine again," he whispers lazily, slipping an arm around her waist to pull her closer, her back against his chest.

"But I really want to paint on you, Gauri," he pulls the duvet down to expose her shoulder to see an unmarked spot.

"Sach me?" She covers his hand with hers, halting his movements.

"You've already got me on my knees, worshipping you. By the time I'm finished with you, you'll actually look the part of a pagan goddess," he says in a sincere tone.

Despite everything he has just done to her, she still finds herself blushing at his words. "Kuch bhi," she chuckles.

"Don't doubt it," Omkara bites on her shoulder, finally leaving a dark print on the pale skin.

"Itna concentrate kar paayenge aap ki hume puri tarah se paint kar paaye?" she asks with a mischievous smile. He catches on quickly, turning swiftly to trap her under his weight, "And for that Mrs. Omkara Singh Oberoi, you'll pay."

He pins her hands together above her head, putting a stop to her giggles when he pulls her hair to one side, letting his teeth nibble on her shoulderblade. She squirms, burying her face in the pillow to smother her moans of frustration and pleasure.

He grins, lips attentive on her neck, "As for my concentration skills, we'll put them to test this week itself because we are leaving for Crotia tomorrow where I can finally have you all to myself, all the time."

His words and his teeth wrench a gasp out of her while he latches on to her delectable skin gleefully.

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Thanks!

Well written

Loved their conversation between intimacy

Bechara want to paint her but desire overcomes him

Thank you 😳

Whatay effortless and smooth piece of writing.. this is such a delight and me laus it.. keep working more on such garam os and provide us relief.. show is sar dard personified