The first thing Priya felt was the ache, delicious, bone-deep, between her thighs.
The second was the warm, solid weight of Arjun's arm draped across her waist, his palm cupping one heavy breast like it belonged there. Sunlight filtered through half-open blinds, striping the bed in gold. The clock on the nightstand blinked 6:47 AM.
She lay still, pulse fluttering. *I'm in another man's bed. My husband is probably waking up to an empty side right now.*
The thought should have panicked her. Instead, a slow throb started low in her belly, her pussy clenching around the ghost of Arjun's cock. She was sore, swollen, *marked*. And still wet.
Arjun stirred behind her, breath warm against her nape. His cock, thick even soft, nestled against the cleft of her ass. One small shift and it would slide between her cheeks. She bit her lip to stifle a moan.
"Morning," he rumbled, voice gravel-rough with sleep. His hand squeezed her breast gently, thumb flicking the nipple. It hardened instantly.
"Hi," she whispered. The word cracked.
He nuzzled her neck, lips brushing the faint bruise he'd left hours ago. "Sleep okay?"
"I don't think I slept." A shy laugh. "I kept… feeling you."
His hips rolled lazily, cock thickening against her. "Good. I want you to feel me all day."
Priya turned in his arms, facing him. His eyes were dark, sleepy, *hungry*. Stubble shadowed his jaw; she traced it with trembling fingers. He caught her wrist, kissed the inside, then guided her hand lower—until her fingers wrapped around his shaft.
*Fuck.* Even morning-hard, it was intimidating—velvety steel, veins pulsing under her palm. She stroked once, slow, marveling at the weight. A bead of precum pearled at the slit; she smeared it with her thumb.
Arjun hissed. "Careful. I'll bend you over the dresser and we'll never leave this bed."
The image flashed—her breasts pressed to cool wood, ass high, his cock splitting her open from behind. Her pussy fluttered, fresh slick coating her thighs.
"Shower first," he decided, reading her flush. "Then breakfast. Then I'm eating *you* again."
---
The en-suite was all marble and glass, rainfall shower already steaming when he led her inside. Water cascaded over them, turning her hair into dark silk against her back. Arjun pressed her to the tiled wall, hands roaming—palming her ass, lifting one breast to his mouth. He sucked lazily, tongue swirling, while his fingers slid between her legs.
She was *drenched*—not just from the shower. Two fingers slipped inside easily, curling to stroke that spot that made her knees buckle. He added a third, stretching her, pumping slow.
"Look at you," he murmured against her nipple. "Still greedy for me."
Priya's head fell back, water streaming over her face. "Arjun—*please*—"
"Please what?"
"Inside. Need you inside."
He spun her gently, hands on her hips. "Hands on the wall. Arch for me."
She obeyed, legs spreading, ass tilting up. The position thrust her breasts forward, water sluicing between them. Arjun gripped his cock, rubbing the head along her slit—once, twice—coating himself in her juices. Then he pushed in.
One long, slow glide. No resistance. Just wet, welcoming heat swallowing him whole. They both groaned.
He didn't rush. Deep, rolling thrusts—pulling out until only the head kissed her entrance, then sinking back in until his balls pressed against her clit. Each stroke nudged her cervix, a sweet ache that built and built. Water pounded over them, steam thick in the air.
Priya's moans echoed off the tiles. "Harder—*please*—"
Arjun obliged, hips snapping faster. His hands slid up to cup her swinging breasts, pinching her nipples in time with his thrusts. She came suddenly, pussy clamping down, a gush of slick mixing with the shower water. He fucked her through it, relentless, until she sagged against the wall.
Only then did he let go—pulling out, spinning her again. He lifted her easily, back to the wall, legs around his waist. Re-entered in one slick thrust. Face-to-face now, he watched every flicker of pleasure cross her features.
"Eyes on me," he growled.
She couldn't look away. His cock pistoned into her, water splashing with each slap of skin. Her second orgasm coiled tight—then snapped. She screamed his name, nails raking his shoulders, pussy milking him in rhythmic pulses.
Arjun buried his face in her neck, thrusting deep. "*Fuck*—Priya—"
He came with a shudder, flooding her again, hips jerking as he emptied every drop.
They stayed locked together, panting, until the water cooled. He lowered her gently, steadying her shaking legs.
---
Wrapped in his bathrobe—far too big, sleeves swallowing her hands—Priya sat at the kitchen island while Arjun made eggs. The domesticity felt surreal. He wore only low-slung sweats, the V of his hips on full display. Every time he reached for a spice, the fabric shifted, revealing the thick outline of his cock.
Her phone buzzed on the counter. *Rajesh.* Her husband.
*Where are you? Kids asking. Said you had early shift?*
Her stomach dropped. Guilt, sharp and sudden, cut through the haze.
Arjun noticed. He set a plate in front of her—fluffy omelette, buttered toast—then cupped her cheek. "You okay?"
"I… I have to go home." Her voice was small.
He nodded, no pressure. "I'll drive you."
In the elevator down, she leaned against him, head on his chest. His heartbeat was steady, strong. *I'm in trouble,* she thought. *Big trouble.*
At her building, he pulled her into one last kiss—slow, filthy, promising more. "Text me when you're free."
She nodded, throat tight.
---
That afternoon, while folding laundry, Priya's fingers brushed the damp spot in her panties from the morning. She brought them to her nose without thinking—musky, *him*. Her clit throbbed.
Her phone buzzed again. Not Rajesh.
**Arjun:**
*Thinking about how you taste mixed with coffee. Tomorrow night. My place. Bring an overnight bag.*
She stared at the screen, heart racing. Rajesh would be on another "business trip" by Friday.
Her reply was a single word.
**Priya:**
*Yes.*