After my breakup with Rhea, I buried myself in flying nonstop sectors, minimal layovers, and zero time to think. It wasn’t just a distraction. It was avoidance. The cockpit became my therapist, the skies my refuge. Exploring new cities, meeting strangers, sleeping through emotions.
Weeks passed in a blur. Then Rishab called. Again.
I’d ignored him the first few times—too consumed in pretending I was fine. But this time, I answered. He told me to take a break and come down to Bangalore for a few days to crash with the boys. I missed that. The effortless laughter, the banter, the chaos. So, I said yes.
We booked an Airbnb on the outskirts for the first night—twelve of us, drinks flowing, poolside banter under the stars. Talk turned to relationships, of course. Most of them were cuffed, except for me and two others. Rishab was glowing about Tanya, his girlfriend.
I hadn’t met her yet, but the way he spoke about her made it seem like she was a walking, talking dream. I had no idea how twisted that dream would turn out to be.
After check-out, we planned a proper house party at Rishab’s place. Friends of friends. A couple of surprises. I mentally prepared myself for a possible run-in with Rhea. Her best friend, Aditi, was coming—and that usually meant Rhea followed.
The evening arrived with that nervous buzz that always creeps in before a big night. I was setting the mood—lighting, playlists, beers in ice buckets. Rishab bailed at a minute. Some urgent meeting. Just like him.
Guests trickled in. My heart jumped when Aditi walked through the door, but no Rhea. Part of me felt relief. The other part? A weird emptiness I didn’t want to acknowledge.
Then, a voice sliced through the air behind me.
“So… who’s Aarush?”
I turned.
“Guilty,” I said, flashing a grin.
She held out her hand. “I’m Tanya. Rishab’s girlfriend. Did he mention me?”
“He did. Yesterday.”
There was a beat. Then the banter started flowing—natural, easy, loaded. I cracked a joke—some offhand line I can’t even remember—but her response? Burned into my brain.
“Wow. Are you a professional comedian or something? I think I just wet my knickers. That was so funny.”
I laughed, trying to play it off, but my body reacted before my brain could catch up. The way she said it. The way her eyes lingered on mine, like they already knew a secret we hadn’t told yet.
There was a glint of mischief there. Dangerous.
“I remember now,” I said, feigning realisation. “Tanya. Rishab mentioned something about a stalker. Crazy bitch. That sort of thing.”
She turned to Rohan. “Does he just keep going like this all night?”
Rohan shrugged. “He just keeps talking.”
Tanya rolled her eyes. “Where the fuck is Rishab anyway?”
“Haven’t heard from him since seven,” I said. “Said he’d be here by midnight.”
She snorted. “He is fucking useless at being on time. Or showing up at all.”
Then she smiled—slow, knowing.
“I’m gonna go check on my friends. We’ll talk later. You can teach me more of that comedy.”
“Yeah, sure,” I replied, trying to sound chill while my heartbeat pounded like a war drum.
As soon as she walked away, Rohan leaned in.
“Well, that’s gonna be awkward.”
“What?”
“You serious? That Rishab’s girl is super hot, and she’s gonna be hanging around. In tiny shorts. In t-shirts. You’re gonna have to act like you don’t notice.”
I tried to laugh it off, but yeah—Tanya was drop-dead stunning. Five-four, curvy in all the right ways. Her tits were full, her waist impossibly tight, and that hair cascading down like she walked out of a shampoo ad. And her eyes—dark brown, sharp, playful.
“I guess so,” I said. I didn’t realise just how wrong that guess was.
Hours passed.
We drank, we smoked. The party slipped into that hazy phase around half-one when conversations turned low, and bodies slumped into furniture. Without a word, she sauntered over, spun around, and dropped herself straight onto my lap.
Her thighs were warm and bare against my jeans, smooth and soft. Her body moulded to me like she’d always belonged there. She sat sideways, her legs stretched across the couch and draped lazily over the girl I’d been half-flirting with.
That girl shifted awkwardly, forced to adjust. Then, she excused herself with a huff, leaving behind nothing but Tanya’s scent—spiced vanilla, cigarettes, and sin.
“It appears my boyfriend won’t be joining us,” she announced, lips brushing dangerously close to my ear. “He’s dropped off the face of the earth again.”
Her breath was hot against my skin. I swallowed hard.
“Well,” I replied, trying to play it cool despite my cock starting to betray me under her weight, “maybe he’ll resurface soon.”
She leaned in a little more, her lips hovering just above my neck. “You don’t know him like I do. He won’t. Not tonight.”
Her tone wasn’t sad. It was laced with something else—something darker, more mischievous. Like she wasn’t the abandoned girl at the party. She was the girl who decided the rules. I nodded slowly, unsure whether to lean away or lean in. But Tanya didn’t leave room for questions.
She shifted, her hips grinding ever so slightly into my lap. A deliberate move. Calculated. Cruel. Her ass pressed against my cock, and I was certain she felt how hard I was getting beneath her. There was no way she couldn’t. It was like my body was betraying every rational thought in my head.
“I hear you’ve got a bitch of an ex,” she said suddenly, loudly, playfully.
My eyes flicked around the room. Aditi, Rhea’s friend, wasn’t nearby, thankfully.
“Word gets around, huh?” I replied, trying to keep my voice steady.
“I like stories,” she said, fingers now lazily tracing circles on my chest. “Tell me yours.”
And just like that, we were in our little bubble, the room fading into nothing. I told her bits—enough to seem open, enough to test the waters. All the while, her eyes didn’t leave mine. That same intense stare—like she was undressing me without blinking.
I couldn’t think straight. Her eyes flicked to my mouth and lingered. Then, I drifted down to the curve of my jaw, the collar of my shirt. She bit her bottom lip—just for a second, but it was enough.
Tanya sat on my lap like she was meant to be there. She laughed at my jokes, whispered dirty comebacks, and told me how boring the other guys were. She told me about her ‘idiot boyfriend’ in ways that made it obvious—she was testing me.
And I was failing. Or winning. Or both.
She stayed on my lap even when I got up to piss. I came back and stood awkwardly nearby, not sure what to do. Tanya grabbed my hand, pulled me back down, and settled herself right back onto me—like a queen reclaiming her throne.
“You have a comfy knee,” she purred, resting her head against my chest. I could feel her heartbeat syncing with mine.
My cock pulsed beneath her, hard and aching. She had to know. There was no way she didn’t feel it throbbing against the seam of her shorts. But she didn’t flinch. She didn’t move.
She pressed herself closer. That’s when I knew. She wasn’t ignoring it. She was using it. Playing with it. And it was working.
Now and then, her fingers would trail down my arm, brushing just a little too close to my wrist, her thumb caressing the inside of it. That delicate skin. She’d lean in when she talked, her breath sliding along my jawline. The curve of her lips just barely grazing me as she laughed or whispered.
I couldn’t concentrate. I couldn’t even remember what anyone else was saying anymore. I didn’t care. Tanya shifted again—subtle, slow, her ass grinding against me as she repositioned herself. My hips twitched.
Still, she kept talking. Still, she played the innocent one. The girlfriend is waiting for her boyfriend to show up. Except she wasn’t waiting for him. And I wasn’t stopping her. She stayed with me the rest of the night.
The party thinned around 4 a.m., collapsing into that fuzzy late-night lull where music softens, and people disappear into corners or each other. A few couples had found their cosy nooks and the air was heavier and warmer now. Charged.
Tanya hadn’t moved from my lap. She’d long stopped pretending she was sitting. Her legs were now tangled with mine, her arm lazily slung around my shoulder, fingers curled into my t-shirt like she owned a piece of me.
Her head was on my chest. Every time she shifted, her body rubbed against mine with a softness that burned. People were too drunk to notice—or pretended not to. But I noticed everything.
The press of her thigh. The soft moan she let out when she stretched and arched her back. The way her hips rolled just slightly every time she adjusted her weight on me—subtle but deliberate. I was rock hard beneath her. Embarrassingly so. Painfully so.
She either didn’t care or enjoyed it. Probably both. At some point, she fell asleep against me. At least, that’s what I thought until she stirred and whispered, “My legs are dead. I need a bed.”
“Let me take you to Rishab’s room,” I said.
She groaned, her breath hot against my neck. “Locked. The dick changed the code.”
“I’ll figure something out.”
I scooped her up, and she didn’t protest. Her body moulded into mine like we’d done this before. I carried her through the dim hallway, past the empty bathroom and snoring bodies sprawled on beanbags. Her arms curled around my neck, her face tucked against my collarbone.
I opened the door to my room. Tossed together a quick bed on the floor. Gently laid her on the mattress. But when I turned to leave, she grabbed my wrist.
“Don’t be a dumbass,” she muttered. “Get in the bed.”
“I’ll sleep on the floor,” I said, half-hearted.
“Aarush,” she snapped, eyes still closed, “stop being a knight and get your ass in the fucking bed before I break it in half.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
I locked the door and climbed in, keeping a strict wall of space between us – for exactly 12 seconds. Then I felt it—her body rolling toward mine, blanket rustling, heat radiating as she slipped in close, her head against my shoulder, her leg sliding over mine, her hand resting low on my stomach.
“What are you thinking?” she whispered.
I laughed, breathless. “That you’re warm. And soft. And you’re my friend’s girlfriend. And I’m probably going to hell.”
She chuckled, low and raspy. “I don’t cheat.”
“That’s… good?”
She hesitated. “But he does. I think. Maybe. I don’t know.”
She sighed. “I still love him. But… fuck, I don’t feel like his anymore. And last night, sitting on you… I felt something I hadn’t felt in a while.”
Her hand moved. Down. Onto my thigh. She didn’t look at me when she did it. Didn’t ask. Just slowly slid her fingers higher, palm warm through the fabric of my jeans. My cock surged beneath the denim, twitching under her touch.
I grabbed her wrist instinctively, but she didn’t pull away.
“You want me to stop?” she whispered.
My throat was dry. “I should say yes.”
“But you won’t.”
Silence. Then I let go of her wrist. Her fingers found my zipper. Tugged. Pulled it down. The sound was deafening in the quiet room. Then her hand slipped into my boxers.
Fuck!
The moment her fingers wrapped around me, my hips jolted. She stroked me slowly, deliberately, her fingers teasing the base, then gliding to the tip, spreading the precum she found there. Her lips found my neck, then my jawline, and finally hovered inches from mine.
“I’ve been thinking about this since the moment I sat on you,” she murmured.
I turned, pulled her into me, and kissed her—hard. Our mouths crashed all heat and hunger, all the things we’d been pretending not to feel. Her tongue tasted like beer and rebellion. She moaned into my mouth, her hand still stroking me, and I groaned into hers.
I rolled on top of her. Her legs parted without resistance, wrapping around my waist. We weren’t even naked yet, but it felt like we were already fucking. My hands slipped under her t-shirt—no bra. My fingers found her breasts, full and soft and perfect.
Her nipples were already hard, begging for attention. I kissed down her neck, and her collarbone tugged the shirt up and off. God, she was beautiful. I kissed one nipple, then the other, sucking, biting gently, her back arching off the bed with every graze of my tongue. Her hands clawed at my hair, her breath ragged.
She reached down and yanked my jeans off, my boxers with them, then pushed her shorts down. No panties. Of course.
I pressed a kiss just above her navel, then lower, trailing kisses down to where she was wet—so fucking wet. I couldn’t stop myself. I slid my tongue between her thighs, and she cried out loud and broken.
Her thighs trembled as I licked her slowly—long, wet strokes with the flat of my tongue. I wanted to take my time, but she was already writhing beneath me, already so sensitive it made her hips buck against my face.
“Fuck, Aarush…” she breathed, her voice breaking on my name.
Her hands clutched at the sheets, then my hair, trying to ground herself, but I didn’t let her. I sucked gently on her clit, flicking it with my tongue in slow pulses, then faster, circling until her thighs clamped around my head. She was soaked, and I wanted to drown in her.
I slid two fingers inside her, curling them slightly as I sucked again—harder this time. Her whole body jerked.
“Oh my god, oh my—fuck—don’t stop,” she gasped.
I didn’t. Her hips moved with mine now, grinding into my mouth, riding the edge. She was loud and uninhibited. Every moan, every whimper went straight to my cock—throbbing, aching for her.
And then it hit her. She came with a guttural cry, her body seizing around my fingers, legs shaking. She grabbed my wrist, pulling it tight against her as her orgasm crashed through her like a wave, mouth open in silent ecstasy, hair sticking to her forehead.
I watched her, mesmerised. Raw. Beautiful. When her breathing slowed, I crawled back up, my lips brushing hers. She kissed me—deep and messy, tasting herself on my tongue without hesitation.
“I’ve never…” she started to say but stopped.
“What?” I asked, whispering into her mouth.
“I’ve never felt that intense with anyone. Ever.”
I smiled. “That’s because I haven’t even fucked you yet.”
Her eyes flashed. She pulled me down, her hand wrapping around my cock, guiding me to her entrance. “Then what the fuck are you waiting for?”
I pushed in—slow, inch by inch.
She gasped, clutching my shoulders, her nails digging into my skin.
“Shit… you’re—fuck—you’re big.”
I stopped for a second, letting her adjust, watching her bite her lip, her brows furrowing from the stretch.
“You good?” I murmured.
“Don’t you dare stop!”
I thrust again, deeper this time, bottoming out until I was fully inside her. The feeling was overwhelming—tight, wet, warm like she was built around me. I started slow.
Each thrust was deliberate, slow enough to feel every inch. Her legs locked around my waist, heels digging into my back, urging me deeper.
“Harder,” she hissed. “I want to feel it tomorrow.”
So I gave her what she asked for.
I fucked her like I’d been holding back for years. Her body slammed into the mattress with every thrust, her tits bouncing, her mouth gasping for air between moans. She clawed at my back, bit my shoulder, and swore in broken sentences.
“God, yes. Aarush. You feel… fuck… you feel so good inside me.”
I gripped her hips and changed the angle, hitting her deeper. Her eyes rolled back. She came again—violently, her whole body convulsing as she screamed into my shoulder, biting down to muffle herself.
But I wasn’t done. I flipped her over and pulled her onto all fours. She looked back, her hair wild, lips swollen, eyes dark with want.
“You’re a fucking animal,” she whispered.
“And you fucking love it.”
I pushed into her again, deeper this time. She arched her back, her ass pressing into my hips, taking everything I gave her. I grabbed her hair and yanked her head back, my other hand gripping her waist as I pounded into her. The sound of skin slapping echoed through the room, her moans unfiltered now.
“Say it,” I growled.
“Say what?”
“That you’ve thought about this. That you’ve thought about me.”
Her eyes closed, mouth open.
“Yes. Yes, I have. Since the moment I saw you. Since you made me laugh. Since I felt your cock under me. I fucking wanted this.”
I leaned down, biting her shoulder. “Then take it.”
Her hand slid between her legs, touching herself as I drove into her. It was too much—too hot, too tight, too intense.
“I’m close,” I warned.
“Inside,” she begged. “I’m clean. Just… fucking do it.”
Her walls clenched around me again as she came for the third time. I let go—my orgasm hitting like a freight train, filling her. I buried myself deep inside, groaning her name against her skin. We collapsed onto the bed, tangled in sweat and sheets and guilt and breathless silence.
I woke up with her leg draped over mine, her hair a mess of dark curls across my chest. The sheets were tangled around us like they’d tried to keep up with the chaos but failed. The room smelled like sweat, sex, and faint vanilla.
My arm was still around her, fingers unconsciously tracing the curve of her waist. The sun pushed soft light through the curtains, and for a moment, everything felt painfully… peaceful.
Tanya stirred, groaning quietly. Then she lifted her head, her lips brushing my collarbone.
“Did we just ruin everything?” she whispered.
Her voice was husky, raw from the night before. And I didn’t answer right away. Because yeah, maybe we did. But fuck, it didn’t feel ruined. It felt like I had just tasted something I wasn’t supposed to, like touching fire and not getting burned.
“I don’t know,” I said honestly, brushing a strand of hair from her cheek. “Do you feel ruined?”
She looked up at me. “No. I feel…alive.”
Her hand slid across my chest, slow and lazy, fingers tracing the lines of my body. Her lips followed, pressing soft kisses just below my jaw, my neck. It wasn’t hunger now. It was reverence.
She pulled the blanket over us as if to trap whatever this was for just a few minutes longer. Her fingers played with mine like she couldn’t stop touching me. I knew that feeling. I felt it, too. We didn’t say much for a while.
Just stayed there, pressed against each other, bodies still humming from everything we did. Everything we said with our hands and mouths and the quiet, breathless moans that still echoed in the sheets.
Eventually, she rolled over and sat up, sheets sliding down to her waist. Her back was bare and perfect, the curves of her hips catching the sunlight.
“I should shower,” she said like it was just another day.
“Yeah,” I said. But I didn’t move.
She turned, her eyes softer now. “You regret it?”
I looked at her—really looked. The girl who had laughed at my jokes like they were her first real laughs in weeks. Who had straddled my lap with the kind of confidence that made blood rush south! Who had whispered she wanted me inside her like it wasn’t a betrayal—but a confession.
“No,” I said. “I don’t. Not even a little.”
Her lips curled into a half-smile. “Good. Because I don’t either.”
She leaned in and kissed me—this time slow, deep, tongue dancing with mine, lips soft but insistent. She bit my lower lip before pulling away.
“You’re dangerous,” she said.
“And you’re trouble.”
We both laughed. She stood naked and unapologetic, her body glowing in the morning light. Then she threw on one of my shirts, walked to the bathroom, and disappeared behind the door.
I laid back. My heart is still pounding. Mind spinning. Because Tanya wasn’t mine, but for one night—she was. And I had no idea what that meant for tomorrow.
But right now? Right now, I didn’t care.
You can reach out to me and give me your feedback on my email ID or Gchat using the same email address: [email protected].