20-10-2025, 04:00 PM
Scene 2
He stayed inside her for a long time, his ragged breaths hot against her ear, his body heavy and solid against her back.
The rain was cold, but a burning heat radiated from where they were joined, spreading through Kritika’s entire body. She felt his cock twitch one last time before he slowly, deliberately, pulled out of her.
A gasp escaped her lips at the feeling of emptiness. The cold night air immediately rushed into the space he had occupied, making her shiver. He didn't let go of her. One arm was still wrapped around her waist, holding her steady against the tree as her legs threatened to give out.
Vansh: Look at you.
His voice was a low rumble. He turned her around to face him. In the harsh glare of the headlights, she was a mess. Her dress was hiked up, her hair was plastered to her face, and her lipstick was smeared. But her eyes were wide, dazed, and sparkling with a wildness that hadn't been there before. He reached out and wiped a drop of rain from her cheek with his thumb.
Vansh: You’re beautiful like this. Completely wrecked.
He didn't kiss her. He just turned and walked back to the car, leaving her standing there, trembling and exposed. She quickly pulled her dress down, her body aching with a deep, satisfying throb. When he opened the passenger door for her, she got in without a word.
The drive back was silent again, but it was a different kind of silence. It was heavy, thick with the smell of rain and sex. The windows were fogged up. Kritika stared out at the blurry city lights, hyper-aware of everything. She could feel the sticky wetness between her legs, the dull ache in her womb where he had hit her, the phantom feeling of his hot cum still inside her. She pressed her thighs together, trying to hold it all in.
When he pulled up near her apartment, he cut the engine.
Kritika: I...
She didn't know what to say. Thank you? What the fuck was that? Nothing felt right.
He didn't seem to need words. He just looked at her, his eyes dark and unreadable.
Vansh: Tomorrow. Same time. I’ll text you the place.
It wasn’t a question. It was a statement. An order. Kritika just nodded, her throat too tight to speak. She got out of the car and walked towards her building on unsteady legs, not looking back. She heard his car drive away as she fumbled with her keys.
Inside her apartment, the silence was deafening. She stripped off her wet, ruined dress and walked into the bathroom, flicking on the light.
She barely recognized the woman in the mirror.
Her eyes were dark and hazy with lust. Her skin was flushed. And on her neck, just below her ear, was a dark purple mark. A bruise. His mark. She touched it gently, a shiver running through her.
She stepped into the shower, the hot water a shock against her cold skin. As she washed herself, she felt his semen trickle out of her and run down her leg, mingling with the water. The physical evidence was being washed away, but the feeling wasn't.
The numbness was gone.
In its place was a throbbing, aching, undeniable aliveness. Her entire body was a live wire, tingling with sensation. She leaned her head against the cool tiles of the shower, closing her eyes, and all she could see was his face in the rain. All she could feel was him, deep inside her.
She had wanted to feel something.
He had made her feel everything.
Her phone buzzed on the bathroom counter. She got out of the shower, wrapped a towel around herself, and picked it up. It was a message from Vansh.
It was just a location. A pin dropped on a map in another dark, secluded part of the city.
Underneath it, a single word.
Vansh: Tomorrow.
Kritika smiled. It was the first real smile she’d had in a year.
Kritika just wanted wild sex and nothing else.
He stayed inside her for a long time, his ragged breaths hot against her ear, his body heavy and solid against her back.
The rain was cold, but a burning heat radiated from where they were joined, spreading through Kritika’s entire body. She felt his cock twitch one last time before he slowly, deliberately, pulled out of her.
A gasp escaped her lips at the feeling of emptiness. The cold night air immediately rushed into the space he had occupied, making her shiver. He didn't let go of her. One arm was still wrapped around her waist, holding her steady against the tree as her legs threatened to give out.
Vansh: Look at you.
His voice was a low rumble. He turned her around to face him. In the harsh glare of the headlights, she was a mess. Her dress was hiked up, her hair was plastered to her face, and her lipstick was smeared. But her eyes were wide, dazed, and sparkling with a wildness that hadn't been there before. He reached out and wiped a drop of rain from her cheek with his thumb.
Vansh: You’re beautiful like this. Completely wrecked.
He didn't kiss her. He just turned and walked back to the car, leaving her standing there, trembling and exposed. She quickly pulled her dress down, her body aching with a deep, satisfying throb. When he opened the passenger door for her, she got in without a word.
The drive back was silent again, but it was a different kind of silence. It was heavy, thick with the smell of rain and sex. The windows were fogged up. Kritika stared out at the blurry city lights, hyper-aware of everything. She could feel the sticky wetness between her legs, the dull ache in her womb where he had hit her, the phantom feeling of his hot cum still inside her. She pressed her thighs together, trying to hold it all in.
When he pulled up near her apartment, he cut the engine.
Kritika: I...
She didn't know what to say. Thank you? What the fuck was that? Nothing felt right.
He didn't seem to need words. He just looked at her, his eyes dark and unreadable.
Vansh: Tomorrow. Same time. I’ll text you the place.
It wasn’t a question. It was a statement. An order. Kritika just nodded, her throat too tight to speak. She got out of the car and walked towards her building on unsteady legs, not looking back. She heard his car drive away as she fumbled with her keys.
Inside her apartment, the silence was deafening. She stripped off her wet, ruined dress and walked into the bathroom, flicking on the light.
She barely recognized the woman in the mirror.
Her eyes were dark and hazy with lust. Her skin was flushed. And on her neck, just below her ear, was a dark purple mark. A bruise. His mark. She touched it gently, a shiver running through her.
She stepped into the shower, the hot water a shock against her cold skin. As she washed herself, she felt his semen trickle out of her and run down her leg, mingling with the water. The physical evidence was being washed away, but the feeling wasn't.
The numbness was gone.
In its place was a throbbing, aching, undeniable aliveness. Her entire body was a live wire, tingling with sensation. She leaned her head against the cool tiles of the shower, closing her eyes, and all she could see was his face in the rain. All she could feel was him, deep inside her.
She had wanted to feel something.
He had made her feel everything.
Her phone buzzed on the bathroom counter. She got out of the shower, wrapped a towel around herself, and picked it up. It was a message from Vansh.
It was just a location. A pin dropped on a map in another dark, secluded part of the city.
Underneath it, a single word.
Vansh: Tomorrow.
Kritika smiled. It was the first real smile she’d had in a year.
Kritika just wanted wild sex and nothing else.
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