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The monsoon rain hammered the glass walls of the Bandra high-rise, turning the Mumbai skyline into blurred streaks of gold and red. Inside the apartment the air felt thick, charged, almost electric. Vikram stood close behind Meera as she set the whiskey glasses down. His chest brushed her back with every slow breath. When she turned, their eyes locked and held. Neither looked away. The space between them vanished until the soft curve of her breasts pressed against the hard plane of his chest. He lifted one hand and traced the side of her neck, fingertips moving with deliberate slowness. Meera’s lips parted on a shaky inhale. He leaned in and kissed her. The kiss was deep and hungry from the first second, tongue sliding into her mouth, tasting the faint burn of whiskey. She answered with equal force, fists curling into the front of his shirt, pulling him tighter until there was no space left. His hands slid down her back and gripped her ass through the thin kurta, squeezing hard enough to draw a soft sound from her throat. She pushed her hips forward and felt the thick, insistent line of his cock press against her stomach. He was already fully hard. The knowledge sent a fresh rush of heat between her thighs. Vikram’s mouth left hers and trailed hot, open kisses along her jaw and down the side of her neck. His hands moved up, cupping her breasts through the fabric, thumbs dragging slowly over her nipples until they tightened into stiff peaks. Meera’s head tipped back. She was already wet. She could feel the slickness gathering, the soft pulse of her cunt with every rough stroke of his thumbs. She yanked his shirt up, palms sliding over the hard ridges of his chest and stomach. Her nails scraped lightly down his sides. He groaned into her mouth and kissed her harder, almost punishing. Their bodies pressed flush. He ground the heavy length of his cock against her in slow, deliberate circles, letting her feel every thick inch through their clothes. Meera’s hand found the front of his trousers. She cupped him, squeezed, felt the heat and the strong pulse under her palm. Something in both of them snapped at the same moment. Vikram grabbed the front of her kurta and ripped it open. Buttons scattered across the marble. Her breasts spilled free, full and heavy, nipples dark and tight. He stared for a beat, breathing hard, then tore the rest of the cloth down her arms. Meera did the same to him, ripping his shirt apart, shoving the ruined fabric off his shoulders. Her nails dragged down his bare chest. His hands went to her jeans. He did not bother with the button. The zipper tore under his grip. He shoved the denim and her soaked panties down her hips in one rough motion. Cool air kissed her cunt. She was dripping, the soft inner lips shiny and swollen. Vikram’s fingers slid between her thighs, two of them sinking easily into the wet heat. She clenched around him with a broken moan. He lifted her onto the edge of the kitchen island, spread her thighs wide, and dropped to his knees between them. The first long, flat lick of his tongue dragged from the bottom of her soaked opening all the way up to her clit. Meera’s whole body jerked. He did it again, slower this time, tasting her thoroughly, the warm slickness coating his tongue. He groaned against her cunt like the taste alone was enough to drive him mad. Then he settled in and began to work her properly. His tongue circled her clit in tight, firm loops, never quite giving her the direct pressure she needed, building the ache until her hips started to lift. He held her thighs open with both hands, thumbs spreading her lips so he could see every wet fold. When he finally sealed his mouth over her clit and sucked, Meera’s head fell back with a sharp cry. He licked her with focused hunger, alternating between broad strokes that covered everything and precise flicks against the swollen bud. Every few seconds he pushed his tongue inside her, fucking her with it, tasting how much wetter she was becoming. Her juices ran down his chin. He did not care. He only pressed closer, tongue working deeper, nose brushing her clit while he licked inside her. Meera’s fingers tangled in his hair. Her thighs trembled on either side of his head. The tension coiled tighter and tighter until it finally snapped. She came hard against his mouth, cunt pulsing, a fresh rush of slick pouring out onto his tongue. Her cry echoed through the apartment. Vikram did not stop. He kept licking through the orgasm, slower now but relentless, drawing every last flutter out of her. When her body tried to twist away from the oversensitivity he held her thighs firmer and licked harder, focusing on the still-throbbing clit, sucking it gently between his lips, then lashing it with the tip of his tongue until a second, sharper climax ripped through her. Meera sobbed his name, legs shaking violently, more wetness flooding his mouth. Still he did not stop. He licked her through the second orgasm...