It was a pleasant day at work for Sam, who remained focused on making the most of his summer internship before moving abroad for his master’s degree. The weather hadn’t been sunny for some time, but today it was sunny enough.
Today was also Riya’s last day – the cute girl who was one of the interns in the office. The dessert date he’d had with Riya had been a missed opportunity. That day had lingered in his mind for a long time, but he’d felt it was the right decision not to act on anything.
He’d gone to a place he never thought he would: One8 Commune, Riya’s favorite cricketer’s restaurant. After having one of the most overpriced basic desserts there, Riya had gone to the restroom, and he’d thought of taking the lift down with her to kiss her in a moment of passion, but somehow the timing had never aligned.
The passion that had arisen that day while sitting beside her just hadn’t returned. What scared Sam more was the thought that today it might re-emerge. Too scared of this thought, Sam planned to stay busy with his experiments all day. But Riya was continuously on his mind.
Then she came to the office in her kurti and jeans, her hair loose just below her shoulders, and her scent – it was warmer, muskier, a little like rain on hot concrete and something uniquely, irresistibly her that couldn’t be explained. This very scent had made him lose his senses.
Somehow, he made it through the entire day, trying to stay busy with his work and barely keeping his focus off Riya. That’s when it happened.
Suddenly, Riya cornered him outside the coffee room.
“Why are you ignoring me?” she asked.
“I wasn’t,” Sam replied.
“So, you don’t want to talk to me on my last day here?” Riya asked.
“Why do you think that? Though I might do better work without you here,” Sam replied.
“Admit it. You’re going to miss my brilliant contributions. Who will you talk to and gossip with now?” she said.
“I will cherish the peace,” he said, the corner of his mouth twitching. He finally looked at her – from her jeans to the beautiful kurti she wore, to her face, her lips, and her eyes.
“Hmmm, can we hug once before going?” Riya asked sincerely.
But for Sam, this was the end, because he knew if he hugged her, he would lose control. Her scent, her neck, her hair poking him in the face, her warm body – everything would undo everything he’d maintained the entire day.
“Just a hug,” she whispered, her voice cracking just enough to fracture his resolve. “One proper goodbye hug. Please.”
Sam turned. Her eyes were glittering, her lips slightly parted. The bravado was gone, stripped away to reveal something raw and pleading. He sighed, a sound of surrender, and opened his arms.
She moved into them without hesitation, a small, warm weight against his chest. He rested his chin on the top of her head, inhaling that dizzying, seductive scent at the side of her neck.
His hands settled on the curve of her back, feeling the delicate architecture of her spine through her thin kurti. She nestled closer, her arms tightening around his waist.
It was supposed to be a hug. A brief, consoling closure.
It wasn’t.
His hands began to move of their own volition, tracing the notch of her spine up to her shoulders, then back down. Hers slid to his face, fingers playing with his hair. The embrace shifted, tightened.
Heat radiated from every point of contact. She tilted her head back to look at him. Her gaze dropped to his mouth. Every rational argument, every cautious thought he’d built for this day, evaporated. He bent his head, and their lips met.
It wasn’t tentative. It was a spark meeting a powder keg. A summer’s worth of suppressed glances, playful teases, and stifled want exploded into a single, fiery point of connection.
Her mouth was soft and insistent, and she kissed with a surprising, hungry confidence that shattered his last illusion of control. His glasses knocked awkwardly against her cheekbone, the world blurring as he cupped her face, diving back in.
They stumbled, a tangled four-legged creature, through the open door and into the back room of the coffee room. Her back met a shelf, causing a gentle clink of some cups. He winced, breaking the kiss.
“Careful…”
He stopped kissing her lips and slowly moved to her neck, inhaling the scent which had made him this weak in the first place. He slowly moved between her neck, her cheeks, and her lips. Riya started letting out small moans.
He walked her backwards, away from the shelf, until the backs of her knees hit the edge of a counter. He lifted her, and she wrapped her legs around his waist, her arms locking around his neck as he set her down on the cleared surface.
The new position aligned them perfectly. And he groaned against her mouth, feeling the evidence of his own desire pressing urgently against the seam of his jeans, met with the warm, aching pressure of her.
Their kisses grew messier, more desperate. His hands slid under her kurti, spanning the narrow plane of her ribcage, the smooth, hot skin of her back. She was so thin, so finely made. She arched into him, a soft sound escaping her throat that went straight to his core.
“Riya, are you sure?” He had to ask. He had to. “This changes everything. This isn’t… this isn’t just a hug.”
She leaned back, her eyes searching his blurred face. Her hands came up to frame his.
“All summer, you treated me like a person. Not just a girl in the office. You listened, took me to my favorite restaurant. You argued with me. You made me feel dumb but happy at the same time.” Her thumbs stroked his cheeks. “I don’t want a sad, careful goodbye. I want this. I want to feel you. I want you to ruin me for every other guy.”
A laugh, rough and ragged, broke from him. “I hope you won’t regret it.”
“I won’t,” she reassured him. “Shut up and kiss me again.”
He did. But this time, the frantic energy morphed into something more deliberate, more devastating. He took his time, learning the taste of her, the way she sighed when he nipped at her lip, the little shiver that ran through her when his tongue met hers.
His hands roamed, learning the landscape of her – the slight curve of her breast fitting perfectly in his palm, the dramatic dip of her waist, the fierce clutch of her thighs around him.
He was an experienced lover. He prided himself on patience, on technique, on bringing a woman to the edge over and over before they fell together. But this was different. This was Riya. Every sigh, every tremble, felt like a discovery he’d been racing against time to make.
When his fingers found the button of her jeans, he paused, asking a silent question. Her answer was to surge up, capturing his mouth in a searing kiss as she fumbled with his belt. The metallic rasp of his zipper was loud in the quiet room.
She removed his jeans just as he removed her kurti and her jeans. Sam then took off his t-shirt. Now Sam was in his boxers and Riya in her bra and panties. Riya could easily see how big Sam was and how aroused he was, and Sam also saw the wetness that made a dark mark on her blue panties.
Sam lightly took Riya into a deep kiss, lowering her onto the cold floor tiles.
“Hey.” He moved back to her, standing between her spread knees. He didn’t touch her yet. “We stop anytime. You say the word, and this ends. No debate.”
She nodded, swallowing. Then she reached for him, her small hand wrapping around his length. Her touch was electrifying.
“I’ve thought about this,” she admitted, her voice small. “A lot. I don’t want it to be with some careful, polite guy. I want it to be with you. Here. Where we argued about chemistry, cricket, and life.”
Her words unmoored him. He kissed her, pouring every ounce of that shared history into it. His fingers found her, sliding through her wetness, circling the tight, hot core of her. He slowly removed her last piece of clothing.
She gasped into his mouth, her hips jerking. She was so ready, so responsive. He worked her slowly, watching her face, feeling her body tense and flutter around his touch until her breath hitched and a short, sharp cry escaped her.
He positioned himself at her entrance, the broad head of his cock nudging against her incredible tightness. He watched her face, every micro-expression.
“This will hurt. For a second.”
She locked her eyes on his, her fingers digging into his shoulders. “Just… do it. Please.”
He pushed, slowly, an inexorable, burning pressure. Her breath caught, her eyes squeezing shut. A single tear escaped the corner of one eye, tracing a path through the dust on her skin.
He stopped, fully sheathed, feeling her body clench and adjust around him in waves of shocking, perfect heat. He was trembling with the effort of stillness.
“Okay?” The word was strained.
She opened her eyes. They were clear and focused. She nodded, a sharp, definite movement. “Okay. Now move.”
He began with a shallow, careful rhythm. Her fingernails bit into the skin of his back, a sharp, bright pain that anchored him. With each thrust, her body yielded, accepted, then began to meet him. Her breathing shifted from pained gasps to something deeper, more rhythmic. She pulled his head down, her mouth finding his ear.
“It’s too big, too deep,” she managed, her voice hitching on a thrust. “All that… it’s too much,” she panted, her heels locking behind his back, pulling him deeper.
He continued the rhythm, changing the motions – sometimes slow, sometimes fast. Sometimes he would pull almost out, then suddenly push back in just to hear her moan loudly. He hooked his hands under her knees, spreading her wider, bending her almost in half as he pounded into her.
He kissed her lips, sucked on her cute little nipples, and smelled her neck. He gathered her hair in his hand and pulled it tight enough to tilt her face up. He then carefully started to kiss her neck, licking at times, wanting to take all her scent into him.
Time was just an illusion now, with her legs wrapped around his back and his chest on her soft breasts. He kept pinching them to make her more and more excited.
It was raw, messy, and deeper than anything she’d ever felt. Her tightness was a fist-like heat, milking him, and her sounds were unfiltered — grunts, sharp cries, the slap of skin on skin echoing off the concrete walls.
He watched her face, her expressions flickering from intense concentration to blank shock to something like triumph.
Finally, Riya couldn’t control herself anymore. She let out a huge cry and started calling out to him, “Aur tez, Sam… aur tez!”
As he increased his speed, she tightened around him. Her orgasm took her silently, her mouth forming a perfect ‘O’, her fingers clenching hard, and her eyes closing tightly, as her whole body stiffened, then convulsed around him, pulling a guttural roar from his chest.
But he wasn’t done yet. He was still hard; the passion he’d been imagining for the last few days needed much more energy to be released.
Riya noticed this. She pushed him back, taking charge now. Her eyes, dark and glinting, held his as she sank to her knees on the hard floor.
“Riya…” His voice was strangled.
A wicked, triumphant grin spread across her kiss-swollen lips and her sweaty face. Her fingers, unable to fully cover his length, wrapped around his cock. But before he could say anything else, her warm mouth closed around him, and Sam’s head slammed back against the ground with a thud, his hands flying out.
The world, already blurry, dissolved into pure, blinding sensation. She was audacious, intuitive, applying a chemistry of her own that seemed to instantly unravel every synaptic pathway he possessed.
There was only the heat, the wetness, the gentle scrape of her teeth and the slide of her tongue, the dizzying intensity of her scent mixed with dust and desire. His planned control, his patient expertise, lay in shattered fragments around their feet.
All that was left was a stunning, humbling freefall, and the desperate clutch of his hands in her dark, unruly hair as he finally came. He came with a force that left his vision bleached white at the edges, a silent, shuddering release that had him gripping her head for support as if the floor had shifted.
For a long moment, there was only the sound of their ragged breathing in the dusty quiet. The warm, wet heat of her mouth as she pulled away, swallowing and wiping the back of her hand across her lips, ending in one final deep kiss with him.
Riya’s forehead rested against his, their breathing synchronizing into a slow, ragged rhythm. She could feel the rapid drum of his heart against her own chest. His arms, still wrapped around her, were trembling slightly.
Sam finally broke the silence and got up to hand Riya her clothes. He dressed as well. They both kissed once again before saying goodbye to each other forever.