Priya stood frozen in the middle of the lavish bedroom, heart hammering so loudly she was sure Vikram could hear it. The thin white towel wrapped around her freshly bathed body was barely holding on — it barely covered the top of her heavy breasts and ended just below the curve of her round, juicy ass. Water droplets still glistened on her smooth skin, tracing paths down her cleavage, over her flat stomach, and disappearing between her thighs.

Vikram Kapoor stood just a few feet away, arms crossed over his broad chest, wearing a simple white kurta that stretched across his powerful frame. His salt-and-pepper hair was perfectly combed, and those dark, piercing eyes were slowly drinking in every exposed inch of his son’s new wife.