The next morning Karan arrived at the office at 6:45 a.m., before even the cleaning staff had finished their rounds. He needed the silence, the sterile glow of his dual monitors, anything to pretend last night hadn’t happened. But the evidence was everywhere.

A faint smear of red lipstick still stained the edge of his desk where Saanvi’s mouth had been. His navy tie—now ruined with dried cum and her perfume—sat folded in his drawer like contraband. Every time he shifted in his chair, he could still feel the ghost of her tight, dripping cunt gripping him, the way she’d begged ruin me.