It started with a photo. I stood in front of the mirror in my apartment, the bathrobe barely held together. The see-through fabric revealed the curve of my breast and a teasing glimpse of my thigh.
My lips were red on purpose, and my hair fell messily over my shoulders. I looked reckless. Unapologetic. Fuckable. And I knew it.
I snapped the photo and hit send. Moments later, Ram messaged back with his bulge visible under his trousers: “You’re craving for me, aren’t you? Come finish what we started.”
He knew exactly what to say. My heart didn’t flutter. It slammed. That wasn’t an invitation; it was a command I was already obeying.
Another message followed: “Flat’s booked. 23rd floor. Pack light. Or nothing.”
So I packed nothing. Just lipstick, condoms, and my nerve.
The elevator ride up the building felt longer than it should have. Every ding made my thighs press tighter. I touched up my lips and tugged the hem of my dress lower, knowing it would ride up again in seconds.
Anticipation buzzed through me. I wanted to see his face when he opened the door. Wanted to see the hunger.
The door swung open. He stood there shirtless, barefoot, jeans slung dangerously low. Muscles taut, eyes dark.
“Still teasing?” he asked.
I walked in without a word, brushing past him. My heels clicked on the marble. My purse fell to the floor like a dead weight.
“I came for you,” I whispered.
Then silence. Charged. Our breaths are shallow. His hands gripped my waist before I could blink. We crashed together like magnets. His mouth claimed mine, hungry, rough, tasting me like he hadn’t eaten in days. His hands slipped under my dress like they belonged there.
As his palms pushed the fabric up, his fingers slowed.
“What’s this?” he murmured.
He pulled back and studied me with his eyes like he really studied every inch. His fingertips traced the faint purple blotch on the curve of my breast, the barely-there outline on my inner thigh, and the older mark on my ass cheek.
His jaw clenched. “You let someone else do this to you?”
I met his gaze, breathing hard. “It wasn’t about them. It was about me.”
He stared for a beat longer, and then something shifted. His expression darkened, not with rejection, but possession.
“Then you’ll let me do more. You’ll remember who marked you last.”
He grabbed the back of my hair and pulled me into a kiss that felt more like a claim. My back hit the wall. His mouth moved to my breasts, biting, sucking. New bruises bloomed beneath his lips.
“This is what I came for,” I thought. Not romance. Not a conversation. Just raw, selfish pleasure.
We fumbled down the hallway, stripping between kisses. I yanked his jeans down. He opened the back of my dress, not even bothered by my biting his lips from excitement.
He shoved me onto the bed. His hands spread my thighs without hesitation, mouth kissing up my leg, wet and slow. His fingers found me first, already soaked.
“God, Ram,” I moaned, hips bucking.
He looked up, smirking. “You missed me. But don’t worry, you’ll leave here sore.”
He crawled up my body and slammed his cock right on the entrance. I stopped him with a palm to his chest.
“Wrap it. Now! A pack is in my bag.”
“You’re killing me,” he growled, but obeyed.
He reached into my bag, bit the condom open, and rolled it on as he tossed the box on the side table.
When he pressed into me, I gasped. “God, the stretch. The slow, maddening inch of him moving inside.”
He watched my face the whole time. Not because he was sweet, but because he loved watching himself ruin me.
“Harder,” I said, nails digging into his shoulder.
He thrust deep, then deeper. My legs locked around his waist.
“You like this? Getting fucked like a needy slut?”
“Yes! More! Ram! fuck me.”
The bed shook and squeaked with each thrust. I screamed when he pulled my legs over his shoulders and pounded into me.
“I’m not here for gentle.” I reminded myself.
My climax tore through me. I clawed at his back as I leaked.
“Come for me,” I begged. “Fill me. Make me yours.”
“You want my baby? Huh? Want me dripping out of you?”
I nodded, lost in it.
He groaned, jerking harder, hips twitching as he came. Heat pulsed inside the condom and then collapsed beside me.
We lay there for a moment, breathing like we’d run a marathon. I sat up, slid the condom off him, and tossed it in the bin. Then, I crawled back down.
“Still hard?”
He chuckled. “Getting there.”
I took him in my mouth slowly. Deeply. Holding eye contact.
He needed to know I was in control now.
His cock thickened between my lips. I moaned, letting spit drip onto him, stroking the base as I sucked. He groaned, head back.
“Fuck, Swati… you’re gonna make me—”
I pulled away, straddled him, tore open another condom, and rolled it on.
“My turn,” I whispered.
I lowered myself onto him inch by inch. “God, the fullness. The friction.”
I rode him slowly at first, grinding my hips in small circles, watching his face twist in pleasure. His hands found my breasts, thumbs grazing the fading bruises before squeezing hard.
Then I bounced faster. My moans filled the room.
He grabbed my hips and met each thrust from below, harder and harder.
“This pussy’s mine tonight,” he growled.
“Yours. Take it. Take me.”
His palm smacked my ass. I yelped, clenching around him.
“You love that? Being used like this?”
“Yes, Ram. Use me. Fuck me harder.”
He sat up, arms wrapping around my back. I locked my legs around him as he thrust upward into me, brutal and raw. The bed creaked, and our bodies slapped together.
“I’m going to come again.” I didn’t say it. I didn’t have to since my body was doing all the talking.
My orgasm hit like a wave crashing against a dam. I shook, muscles locking, head thrown back.
He kept thrusting until he, too, moaned and froze, releasing again in my tight pussy. The condom filled up with his thick cum. We both collapsed, tangled, sweaty, spent.
I rolled off him, laughing breathlessly.
“That was round two.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Planning a third?”
I rolled to my side and whispered into his ear, “Maybe. If you behave.”
He grinned. “Meet me in the shower”, he murmured to me, followed by a spank.
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