Waking in Lal’s bed, Chippy found her kurti crumpled, her body flushed, and a damp ache between her thighs. “I’m sorry, Amma… I can’t help it.” Her glare cut deeper, but he held her gaze, his words spilling, raw, desperate.“It’s you, Amma. Indian xxx Veiled Light was for you, every line. “You can’t say that,” she whispered, voice stern. Chippy snapped. The Menon family’s Kochi mansion stood like a beacon against the Arabian Sea. Lal slept beside her, his face serene, a child’s calm in his curled form.Her chest tightened—her imagination? Her hips rubbed against him, slow, deliberate, her kurti clinging to her breasts.His breath hitched, his hands gripping the seat, and she felt it—a spark, forbidden, alive. Then came the Munnar trip, a 10-day retreat to their tea estate villa, a desperate bid to heal the family.The 10-hour drive was chaos—the SUV stuffed with suitcases, Ravi’s work bags, and three extra briefcases for his deals. The mole on your lip, a star I see every night.
