The city was drowning in a late summer haze, the kind that made everything feel heavy, ripe with possibility. Ria’s apartment was a cocoon of dim lights and open windows, the distant hum of traffic blending with the slow thrum of a fan. We’d been together for six months, me and Ria—six months of stolen kisses, late-night drives, and a hunger that grew sharper with every touch. Tonight, though, something felt different. The air between us crackled, like we were on the edge of something wild, something we couldn’t undo.
Ria was sprawled on the couch, her tank top riding up to show a sliver of her stomach, her shorts hugging her thighs in a way that made my mouth dry. Her dark hair spilled over one shoulder, and when she caught me staring, her lips curved into a smirk. “Kya soch raha hai, Arjun?” she teased, her voice a low purr, her eyes daring me to say it out loud.
I crossed the room, my pulse already kicking up. “Tujhe,” I said, honest, raw. “Always you.” I stopped in front of her, close enough to feel the heat off her skin. She tilted her head back, looking up at me, and fuck, that look—half challenge, half invitation—undid me. I leaned down, and our lips met, a kiss that started slow but turned hungry fast. Her tongue slid against mine, bold, teasing, a chudai of mouths that had me groaning into her. She tasted like mint and want, and I was already hard, my land straining against my jeans.
Her hands were on me, tugging at my shirt, nails scraping my chest as she yanked it off. “Fuck, Arjun,” she breathed, her fingers tracing the lines of my abs, dipping lower to palm my dick through the denim. I hissed, gripping her wrists, pinning them above her head as I kissed her harder, deeper, our breaths ragged. “You’re playing dirty,” I growled, and she laughed, sultry, wicked, her body arching to press her choot against my thigh, the heat of her seeping through her shorts.
“Dirty’s my favorite,” she shot back, and that was it. I let her wrists go, my hands diving for her tank top, pulling it over her head to reveal her breasts—full, perfect, nipples already hard. I groaned, mouth closing over one, sucking, flicking with my tongue as she moaned, her fingers tangling in my hair. “Harder,” she demanded, and I gave it to her, biting just enough to make her gasp, her hips grinding against me, desperate for more.
We stumbled to the bedroom, clothes shedding like promises we didn’t need anymore. Her shorts hit the floor, leaving her in black lace panties that barely covered her choot, her gaand round and fucking flawless. I pushed her onto the bed, her legs parting as she looked up at me, eyes burning. “What do you want, Ria?” I asked, voice rough, my hands sliding up her thighs, teasing the edge of her panties.
“You,” she said, simple, sure. “All of you. Everywhere.” Her words hit like a spark, and I didn’t waste time. I hooked my fingers in her panties, yanking them down, exposing her—wet, ready, her choot glistening in the low light. I groaned, leaning down to kiss her there, my tongue flicking slow, deliberate, savoring the way she tasted, the way she shivered. “Fuck, Arjun,” she moaned, hips bucking, and I kept going, licking, sucking, until she was trembling, her hands clawing the sheets.
But tonight wasn’t just about that. She’d teased me before, whispered about wanting more, and I saw it in her eyes now—trust, desire, a need to push boundaries. I pulled back, kissing my way up her body, lingering on her gaand, the curve of it driving me wild. “This okay?” I murmured, my hand stroking her there, gentle but firm, testing.
She nodded, biting her lip. “Do it,” she whispered, voice thick with want. I grabbed the lube from her nightstand—she’d planned this, the minx—and slicked my fingers, easing her into it, slow, careful, watching her face for every reaction. Her moans grew louder, her body opening to me, and fuck, it was the hottest thing I’d ever seen. “More,” she begged, and I gave it to her, my land throbbing as I worked her, prepping her until she was ready.
When I finally positioned myself, her gaand tight and perfect, I went slow, every inch a question she answered with a gasp, a moan, her hands gripping my arms. “Chod na,” she urged, voice raw, and I did, thrusting steady, deep, the heat of her driving me to the edge. She moved with me, meeting every push, her choot dripping as she touched herself, her cries filling the room. “Fuck, yes,” she panted, and I lost it, the rhythm turning frantic, our bodies slick with sweat, the bed creaking under us.
She came first, her whole body shaking, her gaand clenching around me as she screamed my name. It pushed me over, my land pulsing, spilling into her as I groaned, collapsing against her, both of us wrecked. We lay there, tangled, catching our breath, her fingers tracing lazy patterns on my chest.
“Worth it,” she murmured, a smile in her voice, and I kissed her, soft this time, knowing we’d just burned the rulebook and didn’t care.