Sabita Ma’am chapter 4

Chapter 4 : I called Him when no-one was at home

At around noon, I took out my phone and scrolled down to Sanju’s name.

I stared at it for a long time. My finger hovered over the call button. A million thoughts ran through my mind.

This is wrong. He’s younger. What if someone finds out?

But what about me? My pain, my desires, my needs?

I took a deep breath.

And I called.

“Hello?” he answered, surprised.

I didn’t waste time. “Are you free today? Can you come to my house?”

There was a pause. Then, “Yes, madam. What’s the matter?”

“You’ll find out when you come.”

I sent him the address.

Then I went into my room, pulled out a black satin nightie I had bought long ago but never worn. It was soft, flowing, with thin straps and lace at the neckline. I slipped into it slowly, brushing my hair, my heart racing like I was a teenager again.

I stood by the mirror.

This was not about cheating. It was not about revenge.

It was about claiming back the woman I had forgotten.

The doorbell rang an hour later.

I opened it.

Sanju stood there, wearing jeans and a casual T-shirt. But his eyes widened the moment he saw me. For a second, he forgot to blink.

His mouth opened slightly, but no words came out.

I smiled. “Come in.”

He stepped inside, eyes still glued to my body. I could feel his gaze crawling over my bare arms, my legs, my curves outlined in satin.

“Would you like something to eat?” I asked, casually.

He gave a slow smile.

“I’ve come to eat you, madam.”

My breath caught.

It wasn’t just what he said. It was how he said it.

Bold. Unashamed. Confident.

Something Ravi had never been.

I closed the door behind him.

***

He looked at me with hunger in his eyes — not the timid kind of desire that stares from a distance, but the kind that claims. His voice was low, dangerous, thrilling.

“I’ve come to eat you, madam.”

The words sent a shiver down my spine.

Before I could respond, he stepped forward, closed the space between us, and pulled me into his arms. His touch was rough, not unkind, but possessive — the kind of grip that made my breath catch in my throat.

My body reacted before my mind did.

I melted into him — clinging to his chest, feeling the heat that radiated through his clothes and into my skin. His arms wrapped around my waist, and his hands roamed with deliberate hunger, tracing the curve of my back and settling over the roundness of my hips.

And then, his lips found mine.

There was no hesitation, no polite prelude — just the urgent press of his mouth against mine, devouring. His kiss was wild, raw, like he’d been waiting to do it for months. And I… I didn’t hold back either.

My lips parted instinctively, welcoming him, matching his rhythm, letting the kiss deepen. I had never been kissed like this — not even by my husband. There was no routine in it. No duty. Just fire.

As we kissed, his hands slid downward, cupping my backside through the satin of my nighty. He gripped it, firm and unashamed, pressing me into him. I gasped into his mouth — not in protest, but in pure need.

Each squeeze made my thighs press together involuntarily. My breath grew heavier. A soft moan escaped my lips, and he growled softly, clearly enjoying the sound.

“You feel so good, madam,” he murmured against my lips.

He kissed down my jawline, then to my neck, leaving a trail of heat wherever his lips went. I tilted my head to give him more space, my fingers threading into his hair as he nibbled my collarbone, my chest rising and falling in anticipation.

The satin straps of my nighty had slipped halfway off my shoulders, baring more skin with every movement. The fabric clung to my body, dampened by the rising warmth between us. I could feel the heat pooling low in my belly, my skin tingling under his every touch.

His hands never stopped exploring — sliding from my waist to my hips, squeezing, grabbing, owning. I wasn’t used to being touched like this — like my body was something to be worshipped with hunger.

And yet, every time he touched me, I wanted more.

***

Without a word, he swept his arms under my thighs and back, and lifted me gently, as if I weighed nothing, carrying me across the room with surprising ease. His eyes never left mine — deep, smoldering, and unblinking, as though he was memorizing every inch of me.

He laid me down on the sofa, slowly, reverently, as if placing something precious. The soft fabric was cool against my back, contrasting with the warmth of my skin. I looked up at him, chest heaving, lips parted, unsure whether I wanted to pause or beg for more.

He didn't give me time to decide.

With steady fingers, he pulled open the knot of my satin nighty, letting it fall apart, revealing my body inch by inch. I wasn’t wearing anything underneath except my black lace bra and matching panties — a set I had once bought on impulse but never had a reason to wear until now.

His eyes darkened the moment he saw me. “You’re… beautiful,” he whispered — the kind of whisper that sends tremors across your skin.

He leaned down, his lips brushing across my navel, slow and deliberate, like he wanted to taste every second of this moment. I gasped softly, my stomach fluttering as his warm breath fanned over my skin.

Then he started kissing my stomach — soft, lingering kisses that trailed up and down my belly. His hands found their way to my chest, cupping my breasts over the bra, his thumbs grazing across the fabric, sending jolts of pleasure through me.

I arched my back slightly, sighing deeply, my body reacting with a life of its own. His touch wasn’t rough — it was hungry, but controlled, like he was savoring every curve, every response.

“Your body speaks, madam,” he murmured as he squeezed my breasts gently, teasing the edges of the lace. “It’s begging to be heard.”

I moaned softly, heat pulsing between my thighs, the fabric of my panties clinging wetly to my skin. My breath came in short bursts, my hands gripping the edge of the sofa as his kisses moved lower again, circling my navel, teasing, igniting.

My whole body was tense with need. I had never felt like this before —