The living room was dim. Only one side lamp was on, casting a warm yellow glow across the sofa. Meera sat with her legs pressed tightly together, the thin pink nighty sticking to the wetness between her thighs. Every small shift made the soft fabric drag against her swollen clit. She could smell herself—warm, musky, shamelessly aroused.

Vikram sat only inches away. His large frame filled his side of the sofa. The front of his white pyjama pants was tented heavily, the thick outline of his cock clearly visible. It looked long and heavy, the head pressing against the cotton like it wanted to tear through.