The seminars became Amber's secret obsession. Twice a week she sat in that oak-paneled room, front row, uniform blouse clinging to her curves, huge amber eyes fixed on Kabir as he unraveled more layers of the psyche. Each lecture felt like foreplay. His voice wrapped around words like dominance, surrender, repression, and release until they pulsed inside her like a second heartbeat. She left every class soaked, thighs slick, nipples aching, body screaming for a touch that cultural walls and watchful bodyguards made impossible.

Kabir played the long game masterfully. He never crossed a visible line. No lingering after class beyond a few charged words. No messages. No gifts. Just those black eyes burning into hers during lectures, promising everything while giving nothing yet. He knew her world. Rajasthani royalty. Honor. Purity until marriage. He would not steal her virginity in some rushed, shameful way. He wanted her willing, bound by desire so deep that when the time came, she would beg for the ring and the claiming in the same breath.