Anirudh sprawled on the bed, sleep a distant dream. After damn near an hour of dead silence, he slipped out from under the sheets, yanked on his boxers, and—barefoot—eased off the mattress. He ghosted to the door, double-checked the quiet, then cracked it open. A quick peek at Amy's room—door shut, a thin glow sneaking through the gap. Didn't overthink it. He slid out and crept upstairs like a thief in the night.
Past ten—Amy shouldn't still be up. Maybe she's a lights-on sleeper? That fire in his gut owned his brain now—no room for what-ifs. Bare feet hushed his steps up the stairs, not a creak—his pulse spiked with a wicked thrill. At Aurora's door, it wasn't even shut—just cracked open, begging him in.
This little fox is waiting. Through the slit, he caught Aurora lounging against the headboard, nose-deep in a magazine. Shawl ditched—just that slinky silk gown, one strap down, half her killer rack spilling out. Anirudh's jaw damn near dropped—drool city.
Gold. Pure freaking gold.
He nudged the door, head poking in like a kid sneaking candy.
Aurora's eyes flicked up.
"You little punk—thought you'd conked out!" Spotting him, a grin flashed across her face. She chucked the magazine aside and hit him with a flirty eye-roll.
"Heh, you waiting up? No way I'm crashing!" Anirudh shot back a smirk, slipping inside like he owned the place, bee-lining for the bed.
"You little devil—gonna wreck me 'til I can't walk?" Aurora huffed, clocking the full-on tent in his shorts.
"Nah—just keeping you company, lonely girl. Not feeling it? I'll bounce!" Anirudh teased, faking a pivot to the door.
"You little shit—get over here!" She saw through his game but barked anyway. Real talk—that afternoon hookup still burned in her mind, a high she'd never hit, not even with her ex on night one. Like rain on cracked desert ground.
She was dying for another round of Anirudh's heat.
He smirked, slammed the door shut, and pounced—diving under her covers. One hand shot to her chest, kneading through the silk—that plush, silky fullness sent him straight to cloud nine.
"Little punk, so damn thirsty?" Aurora tossed him a look, but his grip pulled a soft moan—she didn't shove him off. Nah, she grabbed his junk—hard as steel. Feeling its heft, its fire, her heart kicked into overdrive, blood simmering hot.
"Blame your vibe—too damn fine!" Anirudh's grin went full rogue, lips crashing onto her face. Post-afternoon tangle, he had zero chill with her. Aurora leaned in—tongues slamming together, twisting up fast. One hand worked her rack, the other slid down that slick gown, tracing her thigh, creeping north.
Her legs clamped shut on reflex, but his touch pried 'em open. When his fingers hit paydirt—no panties, just a soaked mess.
This chick's been primed, he thought, but held off the main event. He teased her sweet spots instead, hell-bent on breaking her down.
And yeah, with no quick strike, Aurora got antsy—almost begging—but caught his sly-ass grin and read the play. A crafty spark lit her eyes. Swallowing the itch, she flipped the script—pinned him flat, soft tongue flicking his lips, then his ear. Her slick fingers roamed his frame—Anirudh squirmed, but too stubborn to fold, he didn't dive in.
She doubled down. Arched up, body plastered to his, hips jutting back. One hand ripped off a strap, yanking the gown low—those massive mounds popped free. Kissing his ear, his cheek, she writhed—full peaks grazing his chest, electric zaps from her tips buzzing him 'til a low groan slipped out.
His junk stood like a damn flagpole, brushing her secret spot, tapping her lower belly now and then—the tease was torture, screaming to sink in. But Aurora swiveled her hips, dodging his shot.
"Babe, I'm dying—let me in, please…" Anirudh cracked, moaning a desperate plea.
"Slow down—haven't unleashed my best yet!" Aurora purred in his ear, lips sliding south—nipping his neck, his chest, tongue dancing there. Her killer rack shifted down, tips teasing his shaft—pushing him right to the edge of losing it…