He sucked, slow and deliberate, tongue circling, and she wrapped her arms around him and held on. He worked her nipples one at a time, kissing and sucking and flicking his tongue across each tip until she was squirming under him, her hips moving without being asked to. He took her right nipple between his lips and tugged at it gently and she made a sound high in her throat and pulled him closer.
"Don't stop," she managed. "Please."
He didn't stop. Her nipples were fully stiff and swollen now, dark and sensitive, and every time he took one into his mouth a tremor moved through her whole body. He alternated between them, kissed the soft weight of each breast, buried his face between them and breathed her in, then found her nipple again and sucked harder than before.
"Ahh, god--"
He kissed down her stomach again with his fingers going to the waistband of her jeans. He looked up at her once.
Her breath caught. She knew where this was going and her whole body tensed with the knowledge of it.
"Are we going too far?" she whispered.
He didn't stop. His fingers worked the button of her jeans. "Only if you want me to stop, Priya."
The pause stretched. He waited, hands still.
She exhaled, a long slow breath with all the resistance going out of it. "First and last time," she whispered. "That's all this is."
That was enough.
He pulled her jeans down her legs in one steady motion and tossed them aside. She lay in front of him in just her panties, the thin fabric clinging to her, visibly damp at the centre. He ran his hands slowly along her thighs and felt the tremor in them.
"Fuck," he breathed, so quiet it was almost just for himself.
Priya's legs moved instinctively together and his hands spread them apart, firm and wanting.
He slipped his fingers under the sides of her panties and pulled them down. She was completely bare under him now.
She gasped at the exposure of it, the feeling of his eyes on her. But she looked at his face and what was there wasn't just lust. There was something that looked a lot like reverence.
He didn't give her time to overthink it. He lowered his mouth to her pussy.
"Ankur." The word came out like a shock.
His tongue moved along her folds slowly, tasting her, learning the shape of her. Her hips rose against him immediately.
He found her clit and circled it with firm steady strokes. She grabbed the back of his head with both hands. "Oh my god," she breathed. "Oh my god, Ankur--"
He sucked at her clit, tongue flicking in a rhythm that had her legs shaking within seconds. He moaned against her and she felt the vibration of it run through her whole body and cried out softly, one hand pressed to her mouth to keep the sound down.
He pushed two fingers inside her, curled them forward and began to move while his tongue stayed working her clit at the same time. The combination made her back arch clean off the mattress.
"Right there," she gasped, grinding herself against his face. "Right there, don't stop, don't--"
He didn't stop. He kept the rhythm, fingers moving inside her pussy while his lips stayed on her clit, sucking and flicking, and she rode his face with her hips and pulled his hair and said his name twice more before it stopped being a word and became something else entirely.
"I'm going to cum, Ankur, fuck, I'm going to--"
She came. Her thighs locked around his head and her hips ground hard against his mouth, a broken cry tearing out of her that she smothered in the pillow she grabbed blindly from beside her. He felt her contracting around his fingers and kept moving through every shudder, drinking her in, not letting up until her legs stopped shaking and her grip on his hair went completely slack.
She collapsed back. Chest heaving. Hair stuck to her face. She looked down at him, still between her thighs, his face wet, eyes dark and completely focused on
her.
"I can't believe we just did that," she whispered.
He looked up at her with a slow smile. "We're just getting started."
He sat up beside her and reached for the buttons of his shirt and undid them one by one. Slid it off his shoulders. The room was cold but his skin was burning.
"Should I take the rest off too?" he asked. His voice came out thicker than he intended.
Priya hesitated for a moment. Then she nodded. But she touched his arm before he moved.
"Ankur. Don't make me do anything I'm not ready for. Not tonight. Not ever."
"Never," he said. He meant it completely.
He stood and pushed his jeans and boxers down together. His cock sprang free, thick and hard and already slick at the tip. Priya's eyes went to it and widened slightly, not with fear but with something closer to surprise. Neither of them had planned for tonight to unfold this way when they'd left their hostels. There was something almost funny about that, something raw and human in the simple fact of it.
He got back under the blanket beside her and she came into him immediately, her body moulding against his, warm and bare and real.
He kissed her neck and across her chest, his mouth going to her nipples again briefly to taste them, before kissing back up to her lips. His hands moved over her curves, her waist and her hips, trying to memorise the shape of her before the night was over.
Then he reached for her hand and quietly, without saying anything, he guided it down to his cock.
Her fingers trembled slightly as they closed around him. She held still for a moment. Then she began to move her hand slowly, stroking him, exploring the shape and the warmth of him, the slickness already gathering at the tip. He groaned low and involuntary against her chest.
She kept going, her grip firming up, pace picking up slightly, and he kissed her boobs while she stroked him, lips moving over her nipples, his hips beginning to move with the rhythm her hand was making.
Then he shifted, moving upward, bringing his cock closer to her face.
Priya pulled back. Her voice was calm and clear. "Ankur. Not this. Not yet. I'm not ready for that."
He stopped immediately and moved back beside her without any discussion. "Of course," he said. "It's okay."
Her hand found him again and resumed its pace. He felt it building, every nerve in his body narrowed down to her hand and her warmth and her smell and her bare skin against his. His jaw tightened.
"Priya," he managed. "I can't hold it."
She looked at him with flushed cheeks. "Let go," she said softly.
He groaned, the sound raw and helpless, and came. Thick and hot, spilling across her stomach in a long shudder while his hips jerked forward. He gasped her name against her shoulder.
"Priya. Ahh, fuck--"
He collapsed beside her with both of them breathing hard and the heat of the room entirely their own now. She looked at him. He turned his head and looked back at her.
"That was," she started.
"Yeah," he said. "It was."
They lay there tangled and warm and quiet. He cleaned her up gently with a corner of his towel and then pulled the blanket back over them. She settled her head on his chest and he wrapped an arm around her and the room went completely still.
Down the corridor in Room A-222, the sounds coming through the wall were nothing like quiet. Som and Ritika weren't in any conversation about feelings. What was happening there was louder and more urgent and entirely physical, the sounds of it coming through clearly even muffled by the walls. Moaning, the rhythmic creak of the bed, Ritika's sharp cries. Pure hunger with no pretense at anything more.
Ankur lay in the dark listening without meaning to, Priya's hair against his chin, her breathing slowly evening out toward sleep.
And it came to him simply, without drama, the way the most honest things tend to arrive when you stop looking for them. He was in love with her. Not the wanting and not the heat of what they had just done together but something deeper and quieter and completely certain, something that had been building for so long that arriving at the word felt less like a revelation and more like finally reading the sign at the end of a road you had been on for miles without admitting where it led.
He thought about Ritika. What he had wanted when he watched her in Gokarna, when he had lain three feet away listening to her cum, when he had lain alone in his room afterwards thinking about her more times than he wanted to count.
What was I even thinking, he told himself quietly. She was never that. She was never mine to want in that way.
He held Priya a little closer. She was enough. She was all of it. He believed that completely as he lay there in the warm dark, her weight against him, the sound of her breathing the only thing in the room that mattered.
He believed it, and he meant it.
But he had no idea yet what Ritika still had left to do to him. He had no idea that things come back in the most unexpected of ways. Ritika was far from over. Not yet!