Karan’s tongue was still buried deep in Saanvi’s dripping cunt when her thumb hovered over the intercom remote. The little red button glowed like a warning light. One press and Vikram Khanna—his boss, mentor, the man who could end his career with a single email—would be riding the elevator up to the 14th floor.

Saanvi’s thighs trembled around his ears. Her pussy clenched rhythmically against his mouth, fresh arousal coating his lips and chin. She looked down at him—eyes wild, mascara-streaked, lips swollen from biting them to stay quiet.

“Do it,” she whispered, voice shaking with equal parts fear and arousal. “Buzz him in. Let him come up while your tongue is still inside his daughter’s cunt.”

Karan’s heart hammered so hard he could feel it in his throat. His cock—still slick from her ass—throbbed painfully against his stomach, leaking steadily onto his abs.

He should say no. He should grab the remote from her hand. He should tell her this was over—send her home, resign tomorrow, disappear to another city.

Instead, his hand shot up—fingers closing around her wrist—and guided her thumb down.

Click.

The intercom speaker crackled to life.

“Coming up, Karan. Thanks. Be there in two minutes.”

Vikram sounded calm. Professional. Oblivious.

Saanvi’s breath hitched. A fresh gush of wetness flooded Karan’s mouth.

She ground down harder—smearing herself across his face—then lifted just enough to speak.

“Get on the couch. Sit. Legs spread.”

Karan obeyed—brain on fire, body moving on instinct. He sat back, cock standing rigid and glistening, balls heavy and aching.

Saanvi straddled him facing forward this time—knees sinking into the cushions on either side of his hips. She reached between them, gripped his shaft, and lined him up with her soaked entrance.

No teasing. No slow slide.

She sank down in one brutal motion—taking every inch until her ass met his thighs with a wet slap.

They both groaned—low, desperate.

Her cunt was molten—still swollen from the earlier double penetration, walls fluttering around him like she was trying to pull him deeper.

She started riding immediately—hard, fast rolls of her hips—tits bouncing inches from his face, silver bars catching the light.

“Fuck—yes—fill me again—” she panted. “While he’s in the elevator. While he’s walking down the hallway.”

Karan’s hands flew to her ass—spreading her cheeks wide so he could feel the slight gape still left from her ass-fucking earlier. A faint trickle of his cum leaked out around the edges—warm, sticky—dripping down his balls.

He thrust up to meet her—savage, punishing—each slam making her cry out louder than she should.

The elevator dinged somewhere down the hall.

One floor below.

Saanvi’s eyes rolled back. “He’s almost here—fuck—don’t stop—make me come on your cock before he knocks—”

Karan reached between them—thumb finding her clit and rubbing brutal circles.

She shattered almost instantly—cunt clamping down like a vice, squirting in hot, messy bursts that soaked his lap, the sofa, his thighs. Her nails dug into his shoulders—drawing blood—as she rode through it, babbling filth.

“Yes—yes—breed me—fill your boss’s daughter’s pussy—mark me so I leak you all through dinner with Papa tomorrow—”

Karan was right there—edge razor-sharp.

He flipped her onto her back—legs over his shoulders again—angling deep enough to hit her cervix with every thrust.

The doorbell rang.

Sharp. Three quick presses.

Vikram’s voice through the wood—muffled but clear.

“Karan? Saanvi? Open up. I know you’re in there.”

Saanvi’s cunt spasmed violently around him at the sound of her father’s voice.

She stared up at Karan—eyes glassy, lips parted in a filthy smile.

“Answer the door,” she whispered. “With your cock still inside me.”

Karan froze—mid-thrust—buried to the hilt.

Her walls rippled around him—milking, begging.

He pulled out slowly—inch by torturous inch—cock glistening with her cream and his own pre-cum.

Saanvi whimpered at the loss.

He stood—legs shaking—cock bobbing angrily, slick and red.

She sat up—spread her thighs wide on the sofa—pussy gaping slightly, clit swollen and throbbing, inner lips puffy and dark.

She scooped a thick glob of her own squirt mixed with his leaking cum from her entrance—brought it to her mouth—and sucked her fingers clean while holding his gaze.

Then she pointed to the door.

“Go. Open it. Let him see what a good little intern you’ve been training.”

The doorbell rang again—more insistent.

“Karan! Everything alright? Saanvi’s car is parked downstairs. If something’s wrong—”

Karan’s pulse roared in his ears.

He glanced at Saanvi—naked, wrecked, dripping on his sofa, smiling like the devil herself.

Then at the door.

He took one step toward it.

Saanvi slid off the couch—silent as a cat—and dropped to her knees in front of him.

Before he could react, her mouth was on him—hot, wet, sucking him deep in one greedy pull.

Karan’s knees buckled.

She bobbed fast—messy—slurping loudly—tongue swirling around the head—tasting herself on him.

Another knock—harder.

“Karan, open this door right now or I’m calling security!”

Saanvi pulled off with a wet pop—strings of saliva connecting her lips to his cock.

She looked up at him—eyes watering, lipstick smeared across her chin.

“Open it,” she whispered. “Or I’ll scream his name while you come down my throat.”

Karan stared down at her—mouth full of his cock again—then at the door.

His hand reached for the knob.

Turned it.

Cracked the door open—just a few inches.

Vikram stood there—phone in hand, brow furrowed, concern etched on his face.

“Karan? What the hell—why didn’t you—”

Karan blocked the view with his body—door barely ajar.

Behind him, Saanvi took him to the root—throat relaxing, nose pressed to his pubic bone—humming around his length.

Karan’s voice came out strangled. “Everything’s… fine, sir. Saanvi just… stepped out to the balcony. Bad signal. Give me one minute.”

Vikram frowned deeper. “She’s here? At this hour? Karan, this isn’t—”

Saanvi’s tongue flicked the underside of his cock—teasing the slit—while one hand cupped his balls, rolling them gently.

Karan’s thighs trembled.

He was going to come.

Right now.

With the door cracked.

With her father three feet away.

Saanvi looked up—eyes locked on his—mouth full—and nodded once.

A silent: Do it.

Karan’s control snapped.

He came—hard—silent but violent—thick ropes shooting down her throat while she swallowed greedily, not spilling a drop.

His knees nearly gave out.

Vikram’s voice sharpened. “Karan? You okay? You look—”

Karan forced words out. “Fine. Just… intense discussion. On the Singapore deck. She’ll call you tomorrow. Good night, sir.”

He shut the door—quietly—before Vikram could push.

Locked it.

Leaned his forehead against the wood—panting.

Behind him, Saanvi rose slowly—cum-smeared lips curved in triumph.

She pressed her body to his back—tits against his spine, hand sliding around to stroke his still-hard cock.

“See?” she whispered against his ear. “We’re good at this.”

Then she turned—walked naked toward the bedroom—ass swaying, still leaking faintly from earlier.

At the doorway she paused.

Looked back.

“And tomorrow… I’m wearing your tie to the office. The one with your cum stains still on it.”

She disappeared into the dark.

Karan stood frozen—heart pounding—cock twitching back to life at the thought.

Then he heard it.

From the hallway—faint but unmistakable.

Vikram’s footsteps retreating.

And then—his phone buzzing on the coffee table.

A new message.

From Vikram.

Karan—we need to talk. Tomorrow. First thing. Something doesn’t feel right.

Karan stared at the screen.

Then at the bedroom door—where Saanvi waited, naked and insatiable.

And realised—with sick, thrilling certainty—

This was only getting more dangerous.