Girl in heat 3 : My idiot friend dropped

One afternoon, just as the nightly massage ritual had settled into a feverish routine, the doorbell rang.

Supali, fresh from work and already braless in a thin sundress, opened the door to find Pamini—her college friend from Vizag—standing there with a small suitcase and a bright, mischievous smile.

“Surprise, Supu!” Pamini squealed, pulling her into a tight hug. “I’m in Hyderabad for two days to write my certification exam. I told you last month, remember? Can I crash here? Hotels are crazy expensive.”

Supali laughed, hugging her back. “Of course, idiot! Come in.”

Pamini rolled her luggage inside and stopped dead in her tracks when Vikram appeared from the kitchen, shirtless, a dish towel slung over one massive shoulder. His dark, sculpted torso glistened faintly from the heat of cooking. At 6'3" and built like a bull, he filled the doorway completely.

Pamini’s eyes widened. Her mouth actually dropped open for a second. “Oh… hello,” she managed, voice suddenly breathy.

Supali noticed the reaction and smirked. “Relax, Pami. That’s Vikram. He’s… the full-time help Arjun arranged. Arjun’s offshore for two years now, remember I told you?”

Pamini blinked, cheeks flushing. “Oh! I—I thought… wow, okay. Hi, Vikram.” She extended a nervous hand, which Vikram shook gently, his huge palm swallowing hers.

“Good evening, madam,” he said politely, but his deep voice sent a visible shiver through her.

Pamini was 22, curvy like Supali but with shorter hair and a bolder personality. She wore a fitted kurti and leggings that hugged her hips and thighs. Supali caught her friend stealing several quick glances at Vikram’s chest and arms as they showed her to the guest room.

That night, after dinner, Pamini whispered to Supali in the bedroom, “Girl… your ‘help’ is terrifyingly hot. How do you even function? I thought he was your husband at first—he looks like he owns the place.”

Supali just smiled mysteriously. “He takes very good care of everything.”

The next two days passed quickly. Pamini left early for her exam and returned exhausted. On the second evening, after her paper finished, she announced over dinner, “I’m actually free now. My train back isn’t till next week, but… would it be too much if I stayed two more days? Hyderabad malls, some food, girl time?”

Supali glanced at Vikram, who was serving them quietly. “Of course you can stay.”

Pamini’s eyes flicked to Vikram again, lingering lower this time. “Great!”

By the third night, Pamini had noticed the routine. She saw Supali disappear into the living room after dinner, heard the low music, caught the faint scent of warm coconut oil drifting through the flat. Curiosity—and something hotter—won.

She knocked softly on Supali’s bedroom door. “Supu… what’s that massage thing you do every night? My shoulders are killing me from writing for four hours straight. Can I… try one too?”

Supali raised an eyebrow, amused. “You sure?”

Pamini nodded eagerly. “Please. I trust your judgment.”

An hour later, the living room was prepared as usual. Pamini emerged from the bathroom wrapped in two towels just like Supali had taught her—one around her breasts, one low on her hips. She lay face-down on the blanket, heart racing.

Vikram began professionally: warm oil, strong hands working her back, shoulders, arms. Pamini melted instantly, moaning softly. “God, this is amazing…”

Supali sat on the couch watching, sipping water, a knowing smile on her lips.

As the massage progressed, Vikram’s hands grew bolder—kneading Pamini’s full ass through the towel at first, then slipping it aside. Pamini gasped but didn’t protest. When he asked her to turn over, the towel over her breasts slipped away almost immediately. Vikram oiled her chest lavishly, large hands cupping and squeezing her breasts, thumbs rubbing and pinching her nipples until they stood hard and dark.

Pamini’s breathing turned ragged. Her eyes fluttered open, drifting downward.

Vikram was on his knees beside her, wearing only loose shorts as always. The outline of his thick, half-hard cock was impossible to miss—stretching the fabric dramatically, the head clearly defined.

Pamini stared openly for several seconds, lips parted.

Then, in a breathless, wondering voice, she said:

“Wow, Vikram… your penis is really big.”

The room went perfectly still.

Vikram didn’t stop his slow, firm circling of her nipples with oiled thumbs. His dark eyes met hers, calm but burning.

Supali let out a soft laugh from the couch. “Told you he takes care of everything.”

Pamini’s cheeks flamed crimson, but she didn’t look away from the massive bulge inches from her side. Her thighs pressed together under the remaining towel, a small whimper escaping her throat as Vikram’s hand slid lower, beginning the same intimate, teasing work he’d perfected on Supali—fingers slicking through her folds, pressing, stretching, but never quite giving release.

The massage had officially become something else entirely.

And Pamini still had one more day left in Hyderabad.

The living room was thick with the scent of warm coconut oil and heavy breathing. Pamini lay fully exposed on the blanket now, towels long discarded, her curvy body glistening under the dim lights. Vikram knelt beside her, shorts still on but tented obscenely from her earlier comment. His hands worked her breasts with slow, deliberate squeezes, rolling her dark nipples between oiled fingers until she squirmed.

Pamini’s gaze kept dropping to the massive bulge straining his shorts. Finally, emboldened by the heat and the moans she couldn’t hold back, she reached out. Her small hand closed around the thick outline through the fabric, stroking upward slowly.

Vikram froze for a heartbeat, his dark eyes flicking immediately to Supali on the couch.

Supali sat with her legs tucked under her, sundress hiked high on her thighs, nipples hard against the thin cotton. She met his gaze, a flush on her cheeks, lips parted. After a long second, she gave a small nod and a breathless smile.

“Pamini’s a sex freak,” Supali said softly, voice husky. “Way hornier than me. If you’re okay with it… no problem from me.”

Pamini didn’t wait for further permission. With a wicked grin, she tugged at Vikram’s shorts. “Fair’s fair,” she murmured. “I’m naked. You have to be too.”

Vikram exhaled slowly, then lifted his hips to let her pull the shorts down. His cock sprang free—heavy, dark, and already semi-hard from the prolonged teasing. As the cool air and their stares hit him, it thickened and lengthened before their eyes, rising to a full, rigid 10 inches. Veins stood out along the shaft, the broad head glistening with a bead of pre-cum. It stood straight up against his abs like an iron rod, pulsing faintly with his heartbeat.

Pamini’s eyes went wide. “Holy fuck…” she whispered, wrapping both hands around it. Her fingers barely met around the girth. She stroked slowly from base to tip, marveling at the heat and hardness, thumb swirling over the head to spread the slickness.

Supali watched from the sofa, thighs pressed tightly together, her own arousal soaking through her panties. She imagined that impossible length inside her—how it would stretch her, fill her completely, reach places no one ever had. The thought made her bite her lip to stifle a moan.

Vikram’s restraint finally cracked. Completely naked now, muscles rippling in the low light, he poured more oil over Pamini’s mound. His large hands moved down, parting her thighs wide. Two thick fingers from one hand slid easily into her dripping entrance, pumping slowly while the thumb of his other hand gently pulled and extended her outer lips, exposing her fully. Then he added a third finger, stretching her wider, scissoring gently as she bucked against his hand.

Pamini’s back arched off the blanket, one hand still lazily stroking his cock, the other clutching the rug. “Yes… like that…” she gasped.

Vikram’s fingers worked deeper, curling to stroke her inner walls, heel of his palm grinding against her swollen clit. His other hand returned to her breasts, pinching and tugging her nipples in rhythm.

Supali’s hand slipped under her dress without thinking, circling her own clit as she watched, breath coming in shallow pants. The room filled with wet sounds, Pamini’s moans, and Vikram’s low, controlled breathing.

Neither woman had taken him yet—but the night was far from over, and the line they’d all been dancing around had finally shattered.

Pamini’s body was already trembling on the edge long before Vikram’s hands moved between her legs. The air in the living room felt thick and electric, the low music barely audible over her ragged breathing and the slick sounds of oil on skin.

She lay completely naked on the blanket, thighs spread wide, knees bent. One of her hands still loosely gripped the base of Vikram’s throbbing 10-inch cock, stroking it absent-mindedly in long, slow pulls, as if mesmerised by its heat and weight. The other hand clutched the rug, knuckles white.

Supali watched from the sofa, dress rucked up around her waist now, fingers circling her own clit in time with the scene unfolding in front of her. Her eyes were glazed with lust, fixed on Vikram’s massive erection and the way Pamini’s body responded to every touch.

Vikram knelt between Pamini’s open legs, his dark, oiled hands working with deliberate precision. He used both hands now—one to part and extend her swollen outer lips, gently tugging the soft, slick skin outward to expose her completely, the pink inner folds glistening under the dim light. The other hand pressed two thick fingers deep inside her, then three, stretching her wide, curling upward in a slow, firm come-hither motion against her front wall.

Pamini’s hips jerked involuntarily. “Oh fuck… Vikram…” she whimpered, voice breaking.

He didn’t rush. He kept the rhythm steady—deep, measured strokes with his fingers, scissoring gently to open her further, while the heel of his hand ground slow circles over her engorged clit. Every time her breathing hitched and her thighs started to quiver, he eased off just enough to keep her teetering on the brink, drawing it out.

Her breasts heaved with each pant, nipples dark and stiff from his earlier attention. A thin sheen of sweat mixed with the oil, making her skin glow. Her hand tightened around his cock, pumping faster now, pre-cum slicking her palm.

Supali’s own fingers moved quicker between her legs, her breath catching as she watched Pamini unravel.

Suddenly Vikram changed the angle—his three fingers plunged deeper, curling hard against her G-spot while his thumb took over direct pressure on her clit, rubbing firm, rapid circles. At the same time, his free hand shot up to pinch and twist one of her nipples sharply.

That was it.

Pamini’s entire body seized. Her back arched clean off the blanket, mouth open in a silent scream for a split second before a raw, guttural moan tore from her throat. “Fuuuck—yes—!”

Her pussy clenched hard around his buried fingers, pulsing in strong waves as her orgasm crashed through her. Clear fluid gushed against his palm in rhythmic spurts, soaking his hand and the blanket beneath her hips. Her thighs shook violently, trying to close but held open by his powerful grip. Every muscle in her body tensed and released in shuddering spasms.

Vikram didn’t stop—he kept stroking through it, drawing the climax out longer, milking every last tremor until Pamini was gasping, oversensitive, tears of overwhelming pleasure in her eyes.

Finally, she collapsed back, chest heaving, limbs limp. Her hand slipped from his cock, falling to her side. A dazed, blissful smile curved her lips as aftershocks rippled through her.

Vikram slowly withdrew his fingers, glistening with her release, and rested his hands on her trembling thighs, letting her come down.

From the sofa, Supali’s own soft moan broke the silence as she came watching them, fingers buried deep, imagining those same fingers—or that massive cock—doing the same to her.

Pamini’s first climax with Vikram had been explosive, unrestrained, and very far from her last.

The night—and Pamini’s extended stay—had only just begun.

Pamini was still floating in the hazy afterglow of her climax, chest rising and falling rapidly, thighs slick with oil and her own release. Vikram’s fingers slipped out of her slowly, drawing a soft whimper from her lips. He rose to his full height, the dim light casting dramatic shadows over his sculpted, oiled body. His cock stood proud—ten inches of thick, rigid heat, veins pulsing, the broad head shiny with pre-cum.

Without a word, he moved to the foot of the low massage table they’d shifted the blanket onto for better height. Large hands gripped Pamini’s ankles gently but firmly. With one smooth pull, he dragged her entire body down until her ass rested right at the edge, legs dangling off, knees bent and spread wide by his hips. The motion made her gasp, breasts jiggling as she slid.

“Vikram… wait,” she breathed, eyes widening as she felt the blunt, hot tip of his cock nudge against her soaked entrance. He didn’t push in—just rested there, heavy and insistent, letting her feel the sheer size of him.

Supali leaned forward on the sofa, dress still bunched around her waist, fingers frozen between her thighs. Her heart pounded as she watched, a mix of arousal and vicarious nerves twisting in her belly.

Pamini lifted her head, looking down her oiled body at the place they almost joined. “Oh my God… it’s too big,” she whispered, voice trembling with equal parts fear and hunger. “You’ll split me in half.”

Vikram’s deep voice was calm, reassuring, but rough with restraint. “Breathe, Pamini. I’ll go slow. You’re wet enough… and I’ll make it feel good.”

He poured a fresh stream of warm oil over his shaft and her mound, letting it drip down. One large hand wrapped around the base of his cock, guiding the head up and down her slick folds—teasing her clit, spreading the oil, pressing lightly at her entrance but not breaching yet. The other hand began massaging her inner thighs in slow, firm circles, easing the tension.

Pamini’s breath hitched. “I’m scared it’ll hurt… but I want it,” she admitted, biting her lip. “Just… slow, okay?”

Vikram nodded, dark eyes locked on hers. “Tell me if it’s too much.”

He pressed forward—only the thick head, stretching her outer lips wide. Pamini’s hands flew to his forearms, nails digging in. A sharp whimper escaped her.

“Ahh—fuck, it’s huge…”

Vikram paused immediately, holding still, letting her adjust. His free hand moved to her lower belly, thumb stroking soothing circles just above her mound while his fingers splayed wide, gently shaking and massaging the soft skin to relax her muscles. The subtle vibration traveled downward, easing her open bit by bit.

“Breathe out, baby,” he murmured. “Let me in.”

Pamini exhaled shakily, forcing her hips to relax. Vikram rocked forward in tiny increments—barely an inch—then back, then forward again, each gentle thrust coated in oil, opening her further. His hand kept up that rhythmic shaking massage on her belly and mound, sending waves of warmth through her core.

Another inch. Pamini’s head fell back, mouth open in a silent cry. “It burns… but it’s good… don’t stop…”

Supali watched, transfixed, her own pussy clenching at the sight—imagining that slow, relentless stretch inside her own body. She could see Pamini’s lips stretched taut around the thick intrusion, glistening, trembling.

Vikram leaned forward slightly, one hand now sliding up to cup and knead Pamini’s breast, rolling the nipple to distract and pleasure her. “You’re taking me so well,” he praised, voice low and gravelly. “Look how beautiful you are, opening for me.”

Halfway in now—five thick inches buried inside her—and Pamini’s thighs started to quake. Tears of overwhelming sensation pricked her eyes, but her hips began to rock instinctively, seeking more.

“Please… more,” she begged, voice breaking.

Vikram’s jaw clenched with effort—he was barely holding back. He slid in another inch, then two, slow and steady, the oil and her arousal easing the way. His massaging hand moved lower, thumb finding her swollen clit, rubbing gentle, shaking circles that made her whole body jolt.

When he finally bottomed out—all ten inches sheathed inside her, his heavy balls resting against her ass—Pamini let out a long, shuddering moan that bordered on a sob.

“So full… I’ve never… oh God…”

Vikram stilled completely, letting her adjust, both hands now massaging her hips and thighs in slow, soothing strokes. His cock pulsed deep inside her, stretching her to her absolute limit.

Supali’s fingers moved again between her legs, unable to stay still, as she whispered to herself, “Fuck… I need that next.”

The air in the room was thick with heat, oil, and anticipation.

Vikram hadn’t even started thrusting yet—and already Pamini was on the edge of another climax.

Vikram stayed buried deep inside Pamini for a long moment, letting her adjust to the impossible fullness. Her legs dangled off the edge of the low table, trembling, her arms loosely draped around his thick neck. Then, with a low growl, he slid his massive hands under her ass and lifted her clean off the surface as if she weighed nothing.

Pamini let out a startled squeal that melted into a moan. At barely 4'5", she was tiny against his 6'3" frame—her curvy body completely supported by his powerful arms. Her legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, ankles locking behind his back, while her arms clung tight to his broad shoulders.

“Oh God… Vikram…” she gasped, feeling every inch of his 10-inch cock shift deeper inside her from the new angle.

He didn’t answer with words. He simply tightened his grip on her ass cheeks, spread them slightly, and began to thrust—slow, powerful strokes that lifted her entire body up his shaft and slammed her back down. Each upward drive forced a sharp cry from her lips, her breasts bouncing wildly against his chest.

Pamini’s head fell back, mouth open, eyes rolling as he fucked her standing in the middle of the living room. Complete domination: she was weightless, impaled, helpless in his arms. His biceps bulged with effortless strength, hips snapping up to meet her descending weight, the wet slap of skin on skin echoing in the quiet flat.

“Too deep… fuck… you’re ruining me…” she whimpered, but her nails dug harder into his shoulders, urging him on.

Vikram’s pace quickened—long, punishing strokes that bottomed out every time, his heavy balls slapping against her ass. He turned and carried her the few steps to the weight bench, laying her back across it without pulling out. Her legs stayed wrapped around him as he leaned over her, folding her nearly in half. The new position let him drive even deeper, the head of his cock kissing her cervix with every thrust.

Pamini screamed, back arching off the bench, hands scrabbling for purchase on his sweat-slicked back. “Yes—harder—please!”

He obliged, pounding into her with raw power, the bench creaking under the force. Her pussy clenched and fluttered around him, another orgasm building fast from the relentless depth.

Without warning, he pulled out—earning a desperate whine from her—scooped her up again, and moved to the sofa. He sat down heavily, settling Pamini straddling his lap, facing him. She immediately sank back down onto his cock with a shuddering moan, taking him to the hilt.

Now she rode him—or tried to. Vikram’s hands gripped her hips, lifting and slamming her down in a brutal rhythm, using her like a toy. Her breasts bounced inches from his face; he caught one nipple in his mouth, sucking hard, teeth grazing just enough to make her sob with pleasure.

“Mine,” he growled against her skin, voice rough. “Take it all.”

Pamini could only whimper and nod, lost in the overwhelming sensation of being so thoroughly claimed. Her third climax hit suddenly—her whole body seizing, pussy spasming violently around his buried length, fresh wetness coating his thighs. She screamed his name, shaking uncontrollably in his grip.

Vikram didn’t stop. He kept bouncing her through it, drawing the orgasm out until she was limp and gasping, forehead pressed to his shoulder.

Across the room, hidden in the shadows of the sofa corner, Supali watched every second—dress long discarded, legs spread wide, fingers buried deep in her own dripping pussy. She rubbed her clit furiously in time with Vikram’s thrusts, biting her lip to stay silent, coming hard as she imagined herself in Pamini’s place: tiny, weightless, utterly dominated by that massive cock.

But tonight belonged to Pamini. Supali stayed in the shadows, chasing her own release to the soundtrack of her friend’s helpless cries and the wet, rhythmic slap of complete and total domination.

Vikram’s control was iron-clad, but even iron bends under enough heat.

Pamini was limp in his lap on the sofa, her body glistening with oil and sweat, pussy still fluttering around his buried length from her third—or fourth—orgasm. Her head lolled against his shoulder, soft whimpers escaping with every shallow breath. She had gone completely pliant, surrendered, her tiny frame molded to his like she was made to take him.

But Vikram wasn’t finished.

With a low, guttural sound, he gripped her ass tighter—fingers digging deep into the soft flesh—and stood up again. Pamini’s legs stayed loosely wrapped around his waist, arms clinging to his neck as he lifted her effortlessly once more. His cock never left her; the motion drove him even deeper, making her cry out weakly.

“Hold on,” he rumbled, voice rough and strained for the first time.

He began to fuck her standing again—harder now, faster, no longer measured. Each thrust was brutal, lifting her entire body up his shaft before slamming her back down. The wet, obscene slap of their bodies echoed through the room. Her breasts bounced wildly against his chest; her head fell back, mouth open in continuous, broken moans.

“Vikram… I can’t… too much…” she sobbed, but her heels dug into his back, pulling him closer.

He didn’t slow. His hips snapped forward with raw power, muscles flexing across his back and arms, sweat dripping down his dark skin. One hand slid up to grip the back of her neck, holding her steady as he pounded into her. The other kept her ass spread, fingers brushing where they joined, feeling his own thick shaft stretching her wide with every plunge.

Pamini’s nails raked down his shoulders, leaving red trails. Her pussy clenched again—another small, helpless climax rippling through her—but Vikram’s rhythm didn’t falter. His breathing grew heavier, deeper, the first cracks in his control showing.

He carried her back to the weight bench and bent her over it face-down, her feet barely touching the floor. Gripping her hips, he drove into her from behind in long, punishing strokes. The angle let him go even deeper; Pamini screamed into the padding, fingers clawing at the leather, body shaking with every impact.

“Fuck… yes… use me…” she gasped, voice muffled and wrecked.

Vikram’s thrusts turned erratic. His hand tangled in her short hair, pulling her head back gently as he leaned over her, chest to her back. His other arm wrapped around her waist, holding her in place as his hips slammed forward one final time.

A deep, animal groan tore from his throat.

His cock pulsed hard inside her—once, twice—then erupted. Thick ropes of cum flooded her, hot and endless, filling her completely. He kept thrusting through it, grinding deep, each spurt accompanied by a low growl. Pamini whimpered at the sensation, feeling him swell even thicker as he came, the heat spreading through her core.

He didn’t pull out immediately. He stayed buried to the hilt, breathing hard against her neck, one hand stroking her side possessively as the last tremors left his body.

Finally, slowly, he straightened and eased out. A rush of his cum followed, dripping down her thighs onto the mat. Pamini stayed bent over the bench, trembling, utterly spent—marked, claimed, ruined in the best way.

Vikram stood behind her, chest heaving, cock still heavy and slick, glistening with their combined release. He looked every inch the conqueror.

From the shadows of the sofa, Supali came hard one last time—fingers buried deep, biting her fist to stay quiet—her body shaking as she watched the final proof of Vikram’s complete domination spill out of her best friend.

The room smelled of oil, sweat, and sex.

No one spoke for a long time.

And tomorrow, Pamini still had one more day left in Hyderabad.

The next morning, sunlight filtered through the curtains as Pamini shuffled into the kitchen, wrapped in one of Supali’s oversized t-shirts that hung like a dress on her tiny frame. She walked gingerly, thighs pressed together, a satisfied but slightly dazed smile on her face.

Vikram was at the stove making coffee, wearing just his shorts. Supali sat at the counter sipping tea, smirking over the rim of her mug.

Pamini lowered herself carefully onto a stool, wincing dramatically. “You guys… I’m not joking, I can still feel him,” she said, pointing an accusing finger at Vikram’s broad back. “He came so much last night. Like… so much. It’s still leaking out. I had to change panties twice already this morning.”

Supali burst out laughing. Vikram glanced over his shoulder, a rare, smug half-smile tugging at his lips as he poured coffee.

“I’m serious!” Pamini continued, cheeks flushing. “I’ve never had anyone fill me like that. It felt like a litre. My pussy is ruined for normal men now. Thanks a lot, Vikram.”

He turned fully, handing her a cup. “You complained less last night,” he said in that deep, calm rumble.

Pamini took the coffee, biting her lip. “Yeah, well… last night I wasn’t walking.”

The three of them shared a quiet, charged laugh—easy, intimate, conspiratorial.

Later that evening, knowing it was Pamini’s final night before her early train back to Vizag, the air in the apartment thickened again.

After dinner, Supali kissed Pamini on the cheek and murmured, “Enjoy your goodbye. I’ll be in my room… headphones on.” She gave Vikram a lingering look before disappearing behind her door.

The living room lights were dimmed once more.

This time there was no pretense of massage.

Vikram lifted Pamini easily onto the wide balcony railing—her back against the cool glass door, legs wrapped around his waist, the city lights glittering far below. He entered her in one slow, deep thrust, her familiar moan filling the night air. She was still swollen and sensitive from the night before, but slick and ready, taking him with a shudder.

They stayed there for a long while—slow, grinding strokes, her nails digging into his shoulders, whispering filthy goodbyes against his neck.

Then inside again: on the thick rug, her on all fours while he took her from behind, one hand in her hair, the other gripping her hip as he drove deep and steady. On the sofa, her straddling him reverse, riding slowly while he watched her ass bounce, hands spreading her cheeks.

Finally, he carried her to the weight bench one last time. He laid her on her back, hooked her legs over his massive forearms, and folded her small body beneath him. The angle was devastating—every thrust bottomed out, the head of his cock pressing hard against her deepest spot.

Pamini came twice like that, screaming into his shoulder, tears of overwhelming pleasure streaking her temples.

When Vikram finally let go, he buried himself to the hilt and stayed there, groaning long and low as he flooded her again—pulse after thick pulse, even more than the night before. Pamini whimpered at the heat, feeling it fill her, overflow, drip down her ass onto the mat.

They stayed locked together, breathing hard, until he slowly lowered her legs and pulled out. A thick stream followed immediately, pooling beneath her.

Pamini laughed weakly, exhausted. “You’re trying to get me pregnant before I leave, aren’t you?”

Vikram just kissed her forehead, a rare tender gesture, and lifted her spent body into his arms, carrying her to the guest bathroom to clean up.

The next morning, Pamini hugged Supali tightly at the door, suitcase in hand.

“Tell your husband the house was in very good hands,” she whispered with a wicked grin.

Supali hugged her back. “I will.”

Vikram loaded her bag into the cab, gave her a quiet nod and one final, brief hug.

As the cab pulled away, Pamini waved from the window, sore, satisfied, and already missing the feel of him.

Back inside, Supali closed the door and turned to Vikram.

The apartment felt suddenly quieter.

But the heat between them had only grown stronger.

Two years minus a few days still stretched ahead—and now there were no more distractions.