Flaming Sun Collection 2: Marriages Made in India (Box Set with 5 novellas)

by Sundari Venkatraman

  Dia pulled him closer, her arms around his neck. “I missed you too.” She pulled out of his arms and stood away. “Sorry about the mixed signals. I couldn’t resist.”

  He grinned, tracing a finger against her reddened lips. “Can you see me objecting?” he winked.

  “I hope you’re hungry. I made pasta in pesto sauce…”

  “Lead the way, please. I’ve not had anything since lunch. But show me the way to a washroom first.” He threw an arm around her waist. Dia changed direction, taking him to the back of the house. “How’s your dad? I don’t think I can see him tonight, could I?”

  “He’s improving in leaps and bounds and is out of the ICU. You can see him tomorrow. It’s too late now. Here you go.” She left him at the washroom and went back to the kitchen where Pia was heating the pasta.

  “Your Bharat’s hot!” declared Pia, making Dia blush. “And he’s in love with you.”

  “Can you see that?”

  “Oh yes. He was talking to me, but his eyes were looking for you. You should have seen the way they lit up, like warm honey, when he caught sight of you.”

  “Pia.” Dia turned redder than ever. She didn’t say anything more as Bharat entered the cavernous kitchen that also had a dining area, rubbing his flat stomach.

  “Can you hear my stomach growl?” he asked, before carrying the huge pot of pasta to the table. “Anything else?”

  “Just some iced tea. I’m getting it. You guys start,” called out Pia, opening the fridge.

  Bharat didn’t speak for the next few minutes as he ate his way through two helpings of pasta. “This is awesome Dia. I’d pay a huge sum of money if I ate this at some fancy restaurant.”

  Dia caught Pia’s eye and giggled.

  “What?” Bharat turned his head this way and that, watching the sisters laugh. “Did I say something funny?”

  Dia shook her head. “Not at all. You just took the words out of my mouth. Remember, I told you I lost my job. I’ve been thinking a lot, ever since you appreciated the lunch I made. I don’t want to get back to the rat race. I was…um…thinking of starting a takeaway kind of place. Something that I could do from home or a small space that won’t cost me too much. What do you think?”

  Bharat gave Dia an amazed look. “You’re smart baby. That’s an awesome idea. In Jaipur?”

  She nodded.

  “Hmm…have either of you heard of food trucks?” He looked from one girl to the other.

  “Yeah, it’s common in the west,” said Dia. “Wait! Recently I read an article about food trucks in Mumbai.”

  Pia nodded excitedly. “Yeah, I know what you’re talking about. I had some burgers and tacos along with friends at a food truck in Connaught Place too.”

  Bharat nodded at Pia, “Oh, in Delhi you mean. That’s awesome. It’s ideal for takeaways,” he said, before turning to Dia. “The truck usually comes customised with stoves, fridge, sink, chimney, all built within. It can be assembled according to your specific needs. That’s an option to explore.”

  Dia got up to hug him and sat on his lap, throwing her arms around his neck. “You’re my man.” She kissed him on his cheek.

  Pia got up. “You lovebirds will have to excuse me. I need to complete some office work.” She took her plate and glass and left them in the sink before going up to her room.

  Bharat nuzzled Dia’s neck, leaving a trail of kisses as he moved to her jaw, before dropping a kiss on her cheek. “Hmm…you smell good.”

  Dia turned her face to trace her tongue over his lips before seeking entry into his mouth. It was a while before they came up for air. Resting back on his arms that were locked around her, she said, “So you like the idea?”

  “Love it. Will you let me assist you? I can drive the truck, serve stuff and…”

  Dia’s eyes went wide. “Super model Bharat Maheshwari driving a food truck? You’re joking.” She shook her head at him. “Do you want your parents to disown me even before I marry you?”

  Bharat smiled at her. “I’m serious. And my parents will be the last ones to object. Come on, Dia. It’s honest work at the end of the day. I’m planning to cut down assignments that will take me away from you. If you agree,” he thought on his feet, “we’ll run this truck twenty days of the month and travel the rest of the ten days to my shooting locations. I’ll give my dates to producers accordingly. What say?” He quirked an eyebrow at her.

  Dia hugged him. “I like it too much.” She had been thinking that she might have to stay away from him whenever he travelled.

  “Let’s get more comfy,” said Bharat, lifting her in his arms. She clung to him, her legs around his waist as he carried her to the sofa in the living room. “Tell me if there’s a curfew and I’ll get out,” he said, nibbling her earlobe.

  “Hmm.” She turned her head to accommodate his roving lips as he kissed her along the length of her throat, moving down to her cleavage. Dia removed the buttons on her kurti to help him.

  “Sweetie, if you don’t want to let me love you fully, you’d better not do that,” he said, pulling the open flaps of her top together.

  She looked up at him to see the desire burning in his molten brown eyes, before tucking her head against his shoulder. “Okay.”

  “Have you thought of a name for your business?” he asked, just holding her on his lap and continuing to talk.

  “Bhadia. Spelt B-H-A-D-I-A. What do you think?”

  Bharat whistled in appreciation. “That’s so perfect.”

  “Maybe Bhadia’s fast food or Bhadia Dhaba…”

  “Bhadia Dhaba sounds lovely,” he agreed.

  They chatted for a long time, talking about licenses, insurance and other formalities. Bharat had been checking out food truck manufacturers on his phone before he snapped his fingers suddenly. “Hey, there’s a customised truck maker right here in Meerut. Do you wanna go check it out when your dad’s home?”

  “What?” Dia jumped in excitement. It looked as if everything was falling in place so perfectly and so fast. She grabbed the phone from his hand and checked the website. “This is great. Let’s go tomorrow after visiting Pappa. I’d rather go with you.”

  “Done.” Bharat got up. “I’m bushed. Kiss me goodnight.”

  “Where do you plan to go?” asked Dia, kissing his jaw line, reluctant to let him go.

  “I’ve a room at Bravura Gold Resort, not far from here.”

  “Yep,” she nodded. “It’s about twenty minutes from here.”

  “Then I’ll see you tomorrow.” He kissed her hard on her lips, before letting her go. “You stay here. I’ll let myself out. Say ‘bye’ to Pia from me.” He blew her a kiss from near the door, before stepping out.

  Dia ran up the stairs to talk some more about Bhadia Dabha to Pia.

  25

  They were married six weeks later, under a shamiana in the compound of Nakshatra, in Jaipur. The muhurat was in the evening of December 17, the weather simply beautiful. Bharat and Dia took the saat phere with the blessings of both sets of parents, while having eyes only for each other.

  Chanda, Ranveer and his family; Sapna’s family; Ruma’s family and Dia’s extended family had all come down to attend the wedding. Samaira slept in her crib throughout the ceremony, to wake up just when her parents sat down to dinner. She had the whole family twisted around her little finger, dancing to her tunes.

  Bharat couldn’t wait to get his bride alone as they had abstained from having sex till the wedding. “Tell me when we can get away. I need to get inside you urgently.”

  His bride blushed a becoming red, looking gorgeous in a turquoise blue Benarasi silk sari, the mehendi a dark red on her hands. She turned sultry silver eyes to her husband and gave him a small wink. “Patience, sweetheart. Inthazaar ka pal meeta hota hai.”

  “Inthazaar my ass,” he growled. “Haven’t I waited long enough for over two months?”

  “What two months?” she rolled her eyes at him. “Just six weeks.”

  “Just six weeks, sh
e says. Do you know that it’s actually been more than forty-five days?” he complained, removing his pagari and placing it on a chair beside him.

  Dia’s hands twitched, wanting to run them through his tousled hair. He looked so handsome, as if he’d just stepped out of the pages of the glossy magazine she’d been ogling so long ago. She took his hand in hers and placed it against her bare waist. “I know, my sweetheart. It’s not just you who’s been waiting that long.”

  Bharat didn’t need a second invitation as his hand caressed her waist, making her eyes go glazed, as she stared in front unseeingly. There was only the immediate family and a last few stragglers left at the wedding venue. The bride and groom had been left alone for a few minutes as they were getting the dinner table arranged for the extended family to sit together.

  “I want to feel your lips on every inch of my skin, Bharat. I’ve missed your lovemaking,” she whispered, looking into his molten chocolate eyes that were burning with desire.

  He took her sari pallu and spread it over his lap, before taking her hand and placing it against his erection. “My body’s screaming out for you.”

  Unable to contain herself, Dia caressed him, her silver gaze locked to his brown one. “Soon. Let’s go for dinner and get it done with.”

  While everyone chatted around them, the bride and groom pretended to eat, their hearts not really in it. Even then, it was almost an hour before they got done. Looking at the desperation on his twin’s face, Shatru came to his help. “Tell you what. I’ll drive you both to your cottage. Dia looks ready to drop off.” He gave the bridal couple a tiny wink before getting up to bring the car.

  Dia’s best friend Avantika got up to go with Shatru to the garage. If she had thought that Dia’s beau was attractive, she had just flipped for the twin. He was so hot, and difficult to pin down. Like even now, when she offered to go with him, he walked ahead of her, leaving her to follow in his wake.

  “Shatru,” called Avantika, “wait for me.”

  He turned around with a scowl on his face, impatience in every line of his taut body. He stood there, not uttering a word. And that brooding presence was what made him so attractive to Avantika. Men usually swooned over her, putting her off even before she got to know them. But this man didn’t seem to give a damn, a devil-may-care expression in his obsidian eyes. When she reached him, he continued to walk towards the garage, saying nothing.

  “I’m a dancer. I head my own troupe. Now that Bharat has given me a couple of contacts, I’ve got a chance to choreograph for a Bollywood film.” She continued to talk about herself, even if he didn’t respond.

  What she didn’t know was that Shatrughan was listening to every word. Yeah, he was attracted to her, big time. But then, he was a loner, a globetrotter. He got restless if he stayed back home for longer than a month, as he had done this time, because of Bharat’s wedding. The faraway shores called out to him, not letting him be. What would he do with a girl who was grounded in Mumbai, that too with a rocking career?

  He opened the passenger door for her, before moving to the driver’s end, impressing her more than ever. She continued to talk to him about her life in Mumbai, as he reversed the car out of the garage and to where Dia and Bharat were waiting.

  Their cottage—yeah, Bharat had wanted one and had planned it from scratch—was the furthest building in the compound. While it would have taken a good ten-minute walk to reach it, they arrived there in half a minute by car. Leaving the couple at the door, Shatru turned to ask his unwanted companion, “Would you like to go for a drive?”

  “Oh, yes,” said Avantika, a wide smile on her face. Wouldn’t she just love to?

  26

  Dia looked at her new home, loving what she saw. She and Bharat had got together to furnish the low slung cottage, to make it a cosy home. There was only one floor—sprawling across 3000 sq feet. Well, they called it a cottage because it had a roof of Mysore tiles.

  Bharat went forward to push open the unlocked door before turning to lift her in his arms, his left arm under her shoulders and the right beneath her knees. “Welcome home, baby,” he said, walking into the living room, before letting her down to stand in front of him.

  Shutting the door, he pulled her into his arms, kissing her hard, sucking on her tongue. His hands were at her back, pulling the strings of her choli, impatient to touch her all over.

  Dia laughed softly, helping him pull her sari off. “Just a minute,” she said, removing all her heavy jewellery in a hurry and placing them on a side table. She was back in his arms, as he removed her blouse completely off her, his breath catching as her breasts were exposed to his brown gaze. “No bra?” he groaned, cupping her breasts in his large hands, squeezing them gently.

  “It’s in-built,” she said, her voice choking as he ran his thumbs in a circular motion against the taut peaks.

  “You should wear more of such clothes,” he growled, before bending down to take a stiff nipple in his mouth, stroking it with his tongue, making her moan with desire.

  “Bharat, this is not fair. Will you just get out of your damn clothes?” she complained, holding his dark head close to her chest. Her hands craved to touch him.

  He laughed softly, lifting his head to look at the wet tip of her breast, blowing on it gently, making her shiver in anticipation. He took his hands off her to remove his sherwani and churidhar swiftly, watching her with avid eyes as she took off her petticoat. “I’m all yours,” he said, spreading his arms wide in invitation.

  Dia jumped on him, kissing him all over his chest, her hand following the line of hair all the way down across his stomach as it disappeared into his briefs.

  He placed a hand in her silky hair, pulling her face up to his, placing kisses all over her face. She splayed a hand over his engorged manhood, caressing him as he grew even bigger and harder. “Do you wanna bet that we make it to the bedroom?” he challenged, sucking on her lower lip, nipping it, his hands stroking her breasts, making her wet between her legs.

  “I don’t want to lose a sure bet,” she giggled, pushing him down on the carpet. She pulled some cushions off the sofa and spread them around, her breasts jiggling as she worked fast. She stared at him when he finally pulled his briefs off. “Ooh!” She went on the floor next to him, holding his manhood in both her hands.

  “Dia.” Bharat pulled her down to make her lie down on the floor beside him, kissing her shoulder. “You looked lovely today, in the wedding sari. But I like you even better with nothing on,” he growled in her ear, biting an earlobe, his tongue immediately caressing it soothingly. Dia ran her hands on his shoulders and chest, revelling in the masculine texture, even as he traced his hands gently down her body, his lips following in their wake. He suckled one breast while his hand plucked at the other nipple, making her moan in pleasure.

  “Bharat, I need you now.”

  “Anything for you, my love,” said Bharat, getting up on all fours. He gently pulled down her panties, running caressing hands down her long legs, before he cupped a hand against her vagina.

  Dia jumped of the floor, clinging to him, her sharp teeth biting his shoulder. “Now,” she demanded.

  Bharat spread her legs wide, stroking a finger within her, finding her wet and ready, before he thrust into her with a grunt of satisfaction. “You’re so perfect,” he groaned as he kissed her on her mouth, his tongue thrusting rhythmically, matching his strokes below.

  Dia dragged her nails down his smooth back, unable to stop herself, not even aware of the marks she was leaving on her husband, as excitement built within her. She clung to him, her legs around her waist, meeting thrust for thrust as they reached out to the stars together. The world exploded around them as they climaxed simultaneously, their moans reverberating in the hallway.

  Bharat flopped down beside her, totally spent, his breath ragged, burying his face on her shoulder. “I love you baby,” he said, a soft smile on his lips, his eyes closed.

  Dia held him to her heart, her arm around his nec
k, her lips pressed to his forehead, splaying a leg over his waist.

  It was a long time before they got up to go to the master bedroom where Bharat made love to her in a leisurely fashion, keeping her awake till dawn broke.

  Epilogue

  It was the end of February in the next year, two months after their marriage. Bhadia Dabha was doing roaring business by now, the crowd increasing day by day. Dia ran it from eleven in the morning till seven in the evening, the stocks running out before that on most days. Bharat worked beside her, driving the truck for her and helping her with the orders and cash. They had employed an enthusiastic young man, just out of college, to help with all the odd jobs.

  Dia glowed, what with her husband’s love, the success of her business, and living with a wonderful family. Some days of the month, she travelled with her husband when he went on his shoots, taking all the envious looks on her chin. Nowadays, she wasn’t too bothered about the women who flocked around Bharat. Well, he would have to be Superman if he had any stamina left to even look at another woman after the way they made love every day.

  Some days she went to the studio with him, while on others, she toured the city by herself. There were also times when she stayed back in their hotel room, completing the accounts for their new business. Yeah, she’d insisted on managing the business and accounting all by herself. And Bharat was absolutely proud of his wife.

  That day, Dia was at the studio, reading a tabloid. Yeah, that was one habit that had stuck with her as she kept looking for titbits that the papers and magazines published on her husband. She burst out laughing when she came across a gossip item, unaware of the stares she was receiving.

  You all know about the super model who’s a show stopper to top brands, our very own Indian Casanova. But you might be surprised with the latest news we have on him. Psst…our man who used to bed every single woman he met—well, it’s not I who’s saying this, folks, but someone who’s known him intimately—suddenly stopped playing around. Our sources say that this man who hails from the city of gems has turned err…well, he can’t do it anymore. Nope! I’m not revealing my sources. There’s worse to come. He’s married an innocent from a remote part of Uttar Pradesh, obviously without revealing the state of his health. We can’t but feel sorry for the Casanova’s wife…