Tea and Spices (An Erotic Novel of Colonial India) (28 page)

 
“Why did he dislike you so much?”

“He didn’t dislike me at all. He just knew I couldn’t provide for his daughter in the way he wanted. In the end, I had to respect that.”

 
“I think that’s terrible. If two people love each other, then they should be together.”

 
“It is never that simple,” Rohan said gently.

 
“Well, it should be.” Devora took off her hat and patted her damp forehead. She suddenly felt mildly overwhelmed by all this talk of deep love and sacrifice. Her own marriage seemed decidedly boring by comparison.

 
“If you are hungry, I can leave you at a teahouse that is close by,” Rohan said. “They serve British tourists frequently. Then this afternoon we will have time to visit the Red Fort before returning home.”

 
“I don’t want to eat at a teahouse,” Devora said. “Why don’t we go on a picnic?”

 
“A picnic?”

 
“Yes. Perhaps near the river.” Devora climbed into the car next to him and settled against the seat. “And don’t tell me it’s not proper. There’s no one here to see us anyway.”

 
She soon realized the naiveté of her statement when she and Rohan went into a grocery to pick up some things for lunch. The road in front of the shop was covered with dust and stones, and Devora’s shoe caught on the edge of a large rock. With a gasp, she tripped and felt herself start to pitch forward before Rohan grabbed her around the waist and hauled her upright.

 
“You are all right,
memsahib
?” he asked.

 
Devora grasped his arm to steady herself. “Yes, thank you. Just a bit startled, that’s all.”

 
“Miss! Miss, are you all right?”

 
Devora and Rohan looked up at the sound of the British, male voice. A group of tourists stood near a carriage across the street, and two young men broke away and began running towards Devora.

 
Devora sensed Rohan stiffen as he released her immediately and stepped back.

 
“Miss, we saw the coolie grab you.” Panting, the man stopped in front of them. His face was reddened from sunburn, his eyes flashing with dislike as he looked from Devora to Rohan. “Is he bothering you?”

 
“No, of course not,” Devora said. “I tripped on a stone, that’s all. There’s nothing to be concerned about.”

 
“We’re not so sure of that.” The other man glowered at Rohan, adopting what he seemed to think was a belligerent stance. “These coolies will take every opportunity to grope a white woman.”

 
“You don’t have to be frightened of him, miss,” the first man said. “We can take care of him for you.”

 
“I’m not frightened of him,” Devora replied sharply. “He’s my servant. As I said, there’s nothing to be concerned about. Thank you for your interest, but we’re in a bit of a hurry.”

 
“You shouldn’t be out alone with an Indian,” the man continued. “They can’t control themselves, you know.”

“I’ve heard the same about the British. Good day to you both.”

 
The men looked at Rohan again with their eyes narrowed in suspicion, but began backing slowly away. Devora spun on heel and stalked into the shop, her entire body trembling with irritation. She turned to look at Rohan, but he wasn’t behind her.

 
“Rohan?” Devora stepped back outside and saw that he hadn’t moved, his gaze fixed warily on the two men. Only after the two men turned away did he approach Devora.

 
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I hate men like that.”

“I’m used to them. I will wait here while you make some purchases.”

 
Worried that the unpleasant men would come back, Devora quickly bought some fruit and mutton pies before she and Rohan returned to the car.

 
“I guess it’s not possible to really escape, is it?” she asked.

 
Rohan shrugged and pulled onto the road. “It depends entirely on your definition of escape.”

 
“Have you had many encounters like that?”

 
“Some.”

 
“Rohan, don’t you ever just want to leave here?” Devora asked. “I mean, move to another country or something? It must get unbearable at times.”

“I have a much better life than most. I am not complaining.”

 
He pulled the car over to the side of the road and parked near a grove of trees by the river. For moment, they watched the flow of the water as it drifted south, then got out and spread a blanket underneath a tree. The sun had become increasingly warm over the course of the morning, but the leafy tree branches provided a lovely coolness.

 
“There, now, isn’t this better than a teahouse?” Devora asked. She handed him a mutton pie and uncapped a bottle of soda water. “I imagine those places are a great deal like the British clubs.”

 
She unstrapped her shoes and took them off, wriggling her toes with pleasure as a rush of air swept over them. They ate lunch in companionable silence while listening to the rhythm of the river and the twittering of birds.

 
Devora popped a slice of orange in her mouth and glanced at Rohan.

 
“Why don’t you relax?” she asked.

 
“I am very relaxed.”

 
“No, I mean, unbutton your jacket.” Devora leaned over and unfastened the buttons of his suit. “And loosen your tie, for heaven’s sake. Don’t worry about looking rumpled because there’s no one to see you.”

 
“Now, why do I think you find that fact particularly inviting?” Rohan asked, a teasing look in his eyes.

 
“You can’t possibly think I’m going to seduce you right here and now.”

 
“I think you are capable of almost anything,
memsahib
.”

 
Devora gave him a mock frown. “You think I’m a complete tart, don’t you?”

 
“Complete,” Rohan agreed. His dark eyes grew warm as he slipped his hand around the back of her neck and pulled her gently towards him. “A tart of the most delicious flavor.”

 
His lips brushed lightly over hers in a kiss that caused a little quiver to run down her spine. Thoughts of their unorthodox situation slipped into oblivion as she parted her lips under Rohan’s and allowed him to explore her mouth with his tongue.

He kissed with a rich sensuality that belied his reserved persona. Slowly, his hands slipped around to cup Devora’s face as he deepened their kiss. The gesture made her feel almost cherished, as if he were holding something precious within his grasp. She moved closer to him and wrapped her arms around his neck, letting her body sink against his.

 
“This is perhaps not wise,” Rohan murmured, his lips moving over hers.

 
“Nothing about our situation is wise,” Devora reminded him breathlessly as she drove her hands into the thick coarseness of his hair. “We’re a couple of fools, you and I.”

 
She slipped his jacket off his shoulders and began to unbutton his shirt, exposing the hair-roughened skin of his chest inch by tantalizing inch. Lowering her head, Devora followed the pathway with her lips.

Her hands stroked down over his chest to his groin. Rohan’s breathing increased as Devora slipped her hand into his trousers and closed her fingers around the length of his penis. She pulled it out and murmured a husky sound of admiration, rubbing her thumb lightly over the tip before taking him in her mouth.

Rohan’s hips jerked upward with a suggestive movement when Devora’s tongue swirled over him. Her own sex grew heavy with the thick blood of lust. She slid Rohan’s sleek phallus in and out of the cavern of her mouth, murmuring lewd little noises in the back of her throat designed to incite him further.

“Wait.” The word emerged from Rohan’s throat on a choked gasp. His hand twined into her hair to still her movements. “Stop.”

 
Devora pulled away, flashing him a wicked smile as she reached underneath her dress to unclasp her garters and remove her stockings. Then she eased closer to Rohan and straddled him, brushing the head of his shaft against the moist folds of her sex. His body tensed with pleasure as Devora enclosed the tip of his penis in her body. She clutched her dress and pulled the material over her hips as she lowered herself onto him.

 
Clenching her inner muscles around Rohan’s shaft, she leaned forward and began to ride him, watching with satisfaction the painful contortion of his expression as he fought to retain control over himself. His hands lifted towards her swaying breasts, their hard nipples pressing enticingly against the fabric of her dress. He undid the buttons quickly to expose her breasts and palm them in his hands.

 
Devora splayed her body over his, crushing her breasts against his chest and delighting in the sensation of his crisp chest hairs scraping the bare v-neckline of her cleavage. The heat of his body burned into her, his skin damp with sweat.

Twisting her hips, she found a particular angle that created the most pressure in her sex. Tightness gathered in her loins, coiling around her body until her breath came in rapid pants and her skin prickled with heat. The tense control of Rohan’s body under her, his muscles straining, his hot breath against her forehead, swayed Devora’s senses like a potent aphrodisiac.

 
“Say something,” she whispered, her tongue flickering out to capture a bead of sweat trickling into the scorched hollow of his throat.

 
Stilling her writhing movements, she tightened her satin depths around his shaft and reached up to grip his hair. Rohan opened his eyes, which were filled with heat and desperation over being poised on the brink of rapture.

 
“Something wicked,” Devora urged.

 
Rohan grabbed the back of her head, forcing her mouth down on his again.

 
“Fuck me,” he hissed against her lips. The words sounds deliciously salacious and musical in his accented English. “Fuck me good and hard.”

 
Devora’s blood seethed as his words spilled into her. She curled her hands around the hard biceps of his arms, digging her fingernails into his flesh as urgency stretched to breaking point.

This was the moment she craved the most, the precipice so fraught with tension and pain. She let it build before forcing herself to quell the threatening waves, heightening her anticipation until she could stand it no longer and plunged her body down on Rohan’s cock with a moan of ecstasy. His hips bucked upward as he groaned and thrust into her with an almost violent release.

 
Devora stretched over her lover, relishing the endless shudders that rippled outward from her sex as her inner walls convulsed around him. She lifted her head and smiled at him, reaching to run her hand through his dark, damp hair.

 
“Let’s try and do this more often,” she suggested languidly.

 
“Make love, you mean?”

 
Devora rested her head on his chest as she gazed out at the gently undulating waves of the river. As she listened to the beating of her lover’s heart, a strange melancholy stole over her. “And simply be together.”

***

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

 
Gerald stomped the dust off his boots before entering the bungalow. The damn hot season seemed to be arriving early, and everyone, both British and Indian, was getting irritable and belligerent.

Gerald hoped Devora wouldn’t argue too much about going up to Simla in a month or so when the temperature would be truly unbearable. She’d find it to be much cooler in the hill station. Gerald was also convinced that a long separation would be good for both of them. He was beginning to find her constant nonconformity rather tiresome. A couple of months spent in the company of the
memsahibs
would surely straighten her out.

 
“Devora?” Gerald called out her name as he shed his jacket. He did like it when he arrived home after a long day and she greeted him with a drink. She always looked cool and lovely, and she’d learned how to make his gin and tonics just right. “Devora, are you home?”

 
Kalindi poked her head out of the kitchen. “
Sahib
, you are home early.”

 
“Yes, I know. Where’s my wife?”

 
“She has gone for tea at the club,” Kalindi informed him. “She will be back before supper.”

 
“Right, well, bring me a drink, would you?”

 
“Yes,
sahib
. You wish tea?”

 
“No. A gin and tonic.”