The Rain Between Us

Author: MASTRAMM | Category: Forbidden Desires | Location: Room 306

It started with rain. Not the kind that pitter-patters gently, but a storm that rattled windows and invited sin. I was stuck at the hotel lounge, sipping whiskey, pretending to read a book I’d brought just for show.

That’s when she walked in. A drenched silhouette, wrapped in a wine-red saree that clung to her curves like it was jealous of anyone else getting a peek. Her blouse was dark, almost black, laced in a way that the rain had made it nearly transparent. She shook her hair, water droplets flying off like pearls scattered in the air. Our eyes met.

“Storm got you too?” I asked, offering the seat across from me.

She laughed. “And my husband still believes I’m visiting my cousin in Indore.”

I blinked. “Wow. Honest opener.”

“I believe in short stories,” she smirked, her eyes scanning me like I was a menu item she wasn’t supposed to order.

The Elevator Silence

By the time the second drink hit, our knees were brushing under the table. Her fingers danced dangerously close to my thigh, the conversation getting bolder with every passing second. There was no hesitation—just the kind of tension that screamed for a release.

We stepped into the elevator together. Her wet pallu slipped, brushing against my arm. The silence was loaded. The kind that you breathe heavy through.

“Room 306,” she whispered, almost like a challenge.

Desire Unleashed

Her room smelled of jasmine and forbidden choices. As she unwrapped the soaked saree, every inch of her was a secret being whispered. My hands trembled, not from fear, but from the sheer electric pull between us.

She pulled me in by my collar, biting her lower lip. “Make me forget I ever lied.”

And I did.

The rain outside mirrored our rhythm—fierce, wet, relentless. Her moans were soft at first, but grew wild as I traced kisses down her neck, along her collarbone, tasting her, claiming her.

Every moment was soaked—not just from the rain, but the madness of two strangers losing themselves. She arched her back, her fingers digging into the sheets as my tongue explored her, teasing her until she whimpered like a secret let loose.

“Don’t stop,” she gasped, as I slid into her, slowly, deeply. The rain became thunder. Our bodies moved like music with no chorus, only crescendo. Every thrust brought us closer—not just to climax, but to an understanding. This was not love. This was hunger, need, rebellion.

The Morning After

We lay tangled, the bedsheet covering only our names, not our shame. I watched her light a cigarette by the window, still naked, her back a canvas of love bites.

“You know,” she said, exhaling smoke, “I’ll remember this night every time it rains.”

I smiled. “Me too.”

There was no number exchange. No names. Just room 306, and the scent of sin hanging in the air.

---

🔥 Loved this confession?

Explore more forbidden tales on SpicyRaaz – Confessions from the Shadows.

💋 Try the scent of temptation:

✨ A perfume that lingers... like memories from Room 306.