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She waits for me in the dark of a Mumbai night where the monsoon has just broken the sky open. Rain slides down the window like fingers learning skin. I pull her close by the hair, slow at first, then tighter, until her breath turns into a soft broken sound against my mouth. Her lips taste of salt and want. I bite the lower one just enough to make her gasp, then soothe it with my tongue while my hand finds the heat between her thighs. Already soaked. Already open. I press two fingers inside her, curl them, feel the way her walls flutter and grip like they are starving. She tries to close her legs but I keep them spread with my knee, keep working those fingers until her hips start chasing the friction on their own. “Look at me,” I tell her. She does. Eyes glassy. Mouth parted. I add a third finger and watch her lose the last piece of control. Her cunt clenches hard around me, wetness running down my wrist, and I lean in to speak against her ear while I keep fucking her with my hand. “You take it so fucking well when you stop pretending you can hold back.” She comes with a broken cry, thighs shaking, nails digging into my shoulders. I don’t stop. I keep the pressure steady, keep the rhythm cruel and perfect, until the second wave rips through her even harder and she is nothing but wet heat and trembling flesh in my arms. Only then do I free my cock, push her down onto the bed, and slide into that swollen, dripping cunt in one long, deep thrust that makes her moan my name like it is the only word she still remembers. I fuck her slow at first, letting her feel every inch, then harder, deeper, until the bedframe knocks the wall and the rain outside cannot drown out the wet sound of me claiming what is already mine. She comes again with me buried to the hilt, cunt pulsing, legs locked around my waist, and I follow right after, filling her until it spills out between us and the only thing left in the room is the smell of sex and monsoon and her soft, ruined breathing🔥💦