Sahil Rajput is an engineer by education, a writer by passion, and a digital marketer by profession, Sahil Rajput was born on October 28, 1992, in Jammu and Kashmir, a beautiful state of temples, languages, and of course controversies. Imaginative, creative, and curious, Sahil can spend hours on end on the Internet researching on a wide variety of topics ranging from history to entertainment. His first book, Roll no. 77, was published in 2015. It’s my Girlfriend’s Wedding is his second book. Below you can read an excerpt from It’s My Girlfriend’s Wedding. Courtesy: Fingerprint.
An excerpt from the book It’s My Girlfriend’s Wedding
“I love you, baby!” Maya whispers in my ear, digging her nails into my naked back. She is lying under me.
“I love you too, baby!” I whisper back and kiss her collarbone. She moans softly and purrs, “Kiss me, baby, kiss me.”
I remove the blanket from above us and slide down to kiss her breasts. Leaving a trail of kisses along her abdomen, I move further down and lick her navel. Maya gasps as the pleasure of lovemaking increases.
“Vivan, lick it again.” She holds my hair and digs my face into her navel. I move up, kissing her left breast and softly squeezing the right one. A moan escapes her lips and she whispers in my ear, “I can’t take this anymore . . .”
I move up and press my lips against hers in a deep kiss. “Vivan . . .” she softly moans into my mouth.
“Mmm?” I say, not stopping my kisses.
Her words set me off. I position myself over her and enter in one slow yet firm stroke. I groan as I feel her exquisite wetness surrounding me. Her scent drives me mad and I fasten my thrusts. She bucks her hips to match my pace, taking me closer to the peak. And soon, I feel her coming closer and closer to a release. And she does, and with her so do I. Both of us lay side by side, spent.
As I close my eyes, I feel her hand around my neck and her face on my chest.
“So, have you decided it yet?” she asks while ruffling my hair. I know what she is expecting but choose to remain silent.
“Baby, I asked you something,” she raises her voice again, louder than before.
“We will think about it once the London deal cracks,” I answer casually without opening my eyes.
She immediately stands up. “What’s wrong with you? My wedding date has been fixed and you know it very well,” she blurts.
“I know. But there is still a month to your wedding. I will figure it out once the London de—”
She doesn’t let me complete, “We have been in a relationship for the last three months. I lied to my mom whenever you asked me for a night out. I almost lost touch with all my best friends, just because of you. And most importantly, I slept with you. But whenever I ask you about the future of our relationship, you put that London crap in the middle. For God’s sake, I am about to get married to someone else!”
“Baby, please calm down. It is a million-dollar deal, I can’t take any risk,” I say politely, putting my palm on her cheek.
“So, million dollars are more important than our relationship, right?” she removes my hand.
“Trust me, dear, I will settle it perfectly,” I hold her hand.
“Vivan, Seema was right. Rich brats like you have no feelings. You need only one thing—sex,” she says agitatedly, putting on her clothes and tying her hair in a bun.
“By the way, you are most welcome to my wedding, Mr. Vivan Bakshi, CEO of Techocall.” Her invitation card comes flying towards me.
“Baby . . .”
“Stop calling me baby. I am not your baby. I am your mistress!” she blurts before stepping out of the house and banging the door shut behind her.
I have no idea how I should react. I love Maya, but the London deal is too important to be missed. Lost in the dilemma, I notice that Maya has forgotten her bag in the room. I call her, but apparently, she isn’t taking my call. Sitting with my hands on my head, I suddenly spot the wedding invitation near my feet.
With a numb mind and numb hands, I open it.
Maharaja Vijay Singh cordially invites you to the
wedding ceremony of his granddaughter
Rajkumari Mayavati Singh
Kunwar Ajit Singh
Prince of Bilaspur
on October 22, 2016
“Fuck! The meeting for the London deal is on the same day.” I mutter to myself as I recall. And suddenly, my eyes fall on a diary, which is jutting out from the side of her bag. I pick up the bag and take out the diary. ‘My Life’ is scribbled on it with a thick black marker. It must be her personal diary, I think to myself before opening it.
I turn to the first page and it is actually her personal diary. It’s not right to read someone’s diary. But then Maya loves me, I am her ‘official’ boyfriend and there shouldn’t be any restrictions on me reading her diary. So I open the first page and begin reading . . .