Their Wonder Years: Fall 98

Chapter 173: At the Boutique (3)

Mia sat on his lap suddenly, straddling his thighs like it was the most natural thing in the world. Her thighs were bare beneath the lehenga. Her choli straps brushed his shoulders.

“Poor baby,” she said, stroking his hair.

He turned red. “Mia - get up - please! I’m only human.”

She didn’t.

Mia didn’t move immediately.

Instead, she looked at him, really looked, her expression no longer playful but soft, serious, vulnerable in a way he hadn’t seen before.

“I know what you think,” she said quietly, hands resting lightly on his chest. “That I’m just teasing. That I’m being reckless. That maybe, I don’t understand what this means.”

Bharath opened his mouth, but no words came.

Mia leaned in, close enough that he could feel her breath against his cheek.

“But I do,” she whispered. “I’ve seen how you are with them. With Marisol. With Sarah. You’re not just the love of their lives, Bharath. You’re their… center. Their gravity. The man they trust with their whole selves. You are their forever.”

Her fingers slid up to cup his face, thumbs brushing his jaw. “I’m not here because they pushed me. I’m here because I’ve come to realize that I’ve never wanted anything more than to belong to you like that. Not just for the sex. Not just for the sisterhood. But because I love you. Truly. Madly. Deeply.”

His breath caught.

Her voice trembled now, but she didn’t stop. “I love you completely. Not with one foot out the door. This is scary, and stupid, and too fast… but it’s also real. And I’ve never felt this sure about anything in my life. You are my man for life when you have me.”

He stared at her, stunned. His hands, still clenched at his sides, didn’t know whether to hold her or push her gently away.

“Mia…” he began.

“I know,” she said softly, before he could go on. “You’re not sure yet. I can see it. I can feel it.”

He nodded slowly, swallowing hard. “I don’t want to break what we have. You, me, Marisol, Sarah… this isn’t just teasing anymore. It’s serious. I don’t want to reach for you unless I’m sure I can honor what you’re offering.”

Mia’s lips curled-not in a smirk, but something warmer. “Then think about it.”

And just as he exhaled in relief-thinking that was the end of it-Mia shifted her weight with practiced grace and slid his hands up, guiding them under her blouse until his palms cupped her fantastic breasts, full and warm and defiant beneath the sheer silk.

He froze. Eyes wide.

“Mia-”

She smirked now, just a little. “That’s just insurance. So you think the right way.”

He blinked. Stared. Didn’t pull away.

Didn’t move at all.

Just held her. Reverently. Like her body was proof of everything she’d said.

Behind them, Sarah let out a breath. Marisol leaned forward, eyes shimmering. They saw the shift. Felt it.

Mia leaned in close, her voice trembling again-but with joy this time.

“I meant it,” she whispered, forehead resting against his. “I love you. And I’m going to keep loving you. Whether you’re ready now… or tomorrow. Or later.”

Bharath looked up at her, his hands still full of her warmth, her truth. His heart beat so loudly he was sure she could feel it through her chest.

“I believe you,” he said softly. “And that scares me more than anything.”

She smiled.

And this time, it wasn’t wicked or coy.

It was the smile of someone already his.

Instead, Sarah joined them, kneeling beside the ottoman and leaning her head against his arm. “We were just testing you.”

“And I failed,” he said weakly.

Marisol sat on his other side, draping her dupatta across his lap like a blanket of modesty that only looked modest.

“You passed,” she said s oftly, kissing his cheek. “You stayed a gentleman. Even when you were clearly suffering.”

“Which means,” Marisol said, grabbing his wrists and guiding them behind her, “you’ve earned a little reward.”

She planted his hands firmly on her hips-then lower, over the bare curve of her ass where her lehenga dipped scandalously low.

“Grab it,” she whispered. “Tell me what you’ll do to it.”

He clenched, overwhelmed, aroused beyond words.

“I’m going to bend you over the dresser,” he growled in Tamil. “And spank you until you cry and come.”

She whimpered into his neck back in Tamil to his delight. “Do it chellam. Tonight. After you ruin Sarah - ruin me too.”

Sarah kissed his other cheek. “But we do like seeing you squirm.”

Mia leaned in and kissed his nose. “And maybe just a little… hard.”

He groaned and tried to hide his face in Mia’s shoulder.

“Tonight’s going to be chaos, isn’t it?” he mumbled.

“Mmhm,” the girls hummed together.

“Can I request a moment of silence? Like, just thirty seconds of no stimulation?”

“Nope,” Marisol said sweetly. “We’re going to make you hold all our stuff in the truck too.”

“And help us rehearse the finale with lifts,” Sarah added.

“Which means touching hips,” Mia added, bouncing slightly on his lap.

Bharath made a sound that could only be described as a prayer to every Hindu god in existence.

And then he laughed - helpless, breathless, stunned.

He had no armor against this kind of affection with a sudden realization.

He didn’t want armor.

He wrapped his arms around all three of them and pulled them close, kissing their temples, holding them like he never wanted to let go.

“I love you,” he whispered to Marisol.

“I love you too,” she said instantly.

He turned to Sarah. “I love you.”

“Good,” she whispered, “because I’ve already told the boutique owner you’re paying for my dress.”

“Fair,” he murmured-only for her to grab his hand and slide it right under the edge of her choli.

“Sarah -”

“Shhh.”

Her eyes locked with his. “You said I looked like temptation. Touch your temptation.”

She arched into him slightly, and he cupped her without thinking - fingers molding over softness, thumb brushing the curve reverently.

“You want this later?” she whispered, biting his ear. “Say so.”

“I want it,” he growled. “I want you  in this exact outfit. No panties. Nothing but bangles.”

Finally, he looked at Mia - and paused.

Her eyes were wide. She was breathing fast. Her cheeks were flushed.

“I don’t expect it,” she whispered, before he could say anything. “Not yet. But know that I am yours - completely.”

Bharath smiled and rested his forehead gently against hers.

“Let’s just start with this,” he said softly.

Mia nodded, and for a long, perfect moment, they all just sat there - surrounded by color and fabric and tension and affection. A tiny sanctuary of shared breath, laughter, and unspoken promises.

Then Marisol broke the silence.

“Okay. Time to go. If we don’t leave now, Nandita’s going to kill us.”

Sarah stood. “And I need you alive, Bharath. At least until the lifts are done.”

Mia got off his lap, not without a lingering glance, and gathered her dupatta.

Bharath stood last, adjusting his shirt and mumbling to himself.

“Cholis are evil.”

“We’ll let you practice again tomorrow,” Marisol said, linking her arm with his.

He just groaned.

And followed them out into the cooling evening air - flustered, turned on, and completely, irrevocably in love with three dangerously unholy women in dangerously holy clothes.