The apartment was quiet except for the hum of the refrigerator and the occasional clatter of dishes as Ramya cleaned up after lunch. She had sent Sam off to work with a quick kiss, her fingers lingering on his collar just a little longer than necessary. Now, alone in the kitchen, she wiped her hands on her nighty, the thin cotton clinging to her curves in ways that made her self-conscious—though there was no one around to notice.
Or so she thought.
Mohit had let himself in with the spare key, like he always did when Sam wasn’t home. He claimed it was to check on the plumbing or borrow tools, but Ramya knew better. His eyes lingered too long, his excuses were too flimsy. Today, though, he didn’t bother with pretense. The door clicked shut behind him, and she turned, her breath catching as she saw the way his gaze raked over her—slow, deliberate, like a man starving.
“Sam’s not here,” she said, her voice steadier than she felt.
“I know,” Mohit replied, stepping closer. His fingers brushed against hers as he reached for the dish towel she held, his touch electric. She should’ve pulled away. She wanted to. But something in the way his thumb traced the back of her hand made her pulse jump, her skin heating under his touch.
Ramya retreated into the kitchen, putting the counter between them. The space felt smaller suddenly, the air thicker. She could hear his footsteps behind her, slow and measured, like a predator stalking prey. Then his body pressed against her back, his chest warm through the thin fabric of her nighty, his breath hot against her ear.
“You smell good,” he murmured, his hands sliding around her waist, pulling her flush against him. She could feel the hard ridge of his cock through his jeans, pressing into the curve of her ass. A shiver ran down her spine, her nipples tightening under the cotton.
“Mohit, don’t—” she started, but her protest died as his palms slid up, cupping her breasts through the fabric. His thumbs circled her nipples, teasing them into stiff peaks, and a traitorous whimper escaped her lips.
“You want this,” he growled, his mouth against her neck now, his teeth grazing her skin just enough to sting. “I’ve seen the way you look at me when Sam’s not around.”
She should’ve denied it. She should’ve pushed him away. But when his hands slipped under the hem of her nighty, his calloused fingers tracing the inside of her thighs, her legs parted just a little. Just enough.
Mohit didn’t need more invitation. His fingers slid higher, slipping under the elastic of her panties, finding her already wet. “Fuck, Ramya,” he groaned, his voice rough. “You’re soaked.”
She bit her lip as his fingers teased her, two of them sliding between her folds, rubbing slow circles over her clit. Her hips rocked back against him instinctively, her body betraying her even as her mind screamed at her to stop. But it had been so long since Sam had touched her like this—like she was something to be *wanted*, something to be *conquered*.
Mohit’s other hand tugged the nighty up, bunching it around her waist before his fingers hooked into her panties and yanked them down. She gasped as the cool air hit her bare skin, but before she could protest, he was spinning her around, lifting her onto the counter. His mouth crashed onto hers, his tongue demanding entrance, and she melted into the kiss, her fingers tangling in his hair.
He dropped to his knees, his hands gripping her thighs, spreading them wide. The first swipe of his tongue against her pussy made her jerk, a moan tearing from her throat. “Mohit—fuck—”
“Shh,” he murmured against her, his breath hot. “Let me taste you.”
And then his mouth was on her, his tongue flicking over her clit before delving inside her, fucking her with slow, deep strokes. Ramya’s head fell back, her fingers clawing at the counter as pleasure coiled tight in her belly. She was so close, so *fucking* close—
But then he pulled back, his lips glistening with her arousal. “Not yet,” he said, standing up. His fingers worked the button of his jeans, freeing his cock—thick, veiny, the tip already leaking. He stroked himself once, twice, his eyes locked on hers. “On your knees, Ramya.”
She hesitated for only a second before sliding off the counter, sinking to the tile floor. His cock was right there, inches from her lips, the scent of him musky and intoxicating. She wrapped her fingers around the base, her tongue darting out to lick the pre-cum from the tip. He hissed, his hand tangling in her hair, guiding her as she took him into her mouth.
“Fuck, just like that,” he groaned, his hips rocking forward, fucking her mouth in shallow thrusts. She hollowed her cheeks, taking him deeper, her free hand slipping between her legs to rub her aching clit.
But Mohit wasn’t done with her. With a growl, he pulled out, hauling her to her feet before spinning her around, bending her over the counter. His palm cracked against her ass, the sting making her gasp before his fingers were back between her legs, teasing her entrance.
“You want my cock, Ramya?” he asked, his voice a dark promise.
She didn’t answer. She didn’t have to. The way her hips pushed back against his touch said it all.
He didn’t make her wait. In one smooth motion, he thrust inside her, filling her completely. She cried out, her nails scraping against the counter as he set a brutal pace, his cock pounding into her with deep, punishing strokes. The sound of skin slapping skin filled the kitchen, mixed with her breathless moans and his grunts of pleasure.