Title: The heat of her flat.

We met on Hinge — casual, flirty chats at first, then a couple of meetups. Coffee, walks, light teasing. There was a tension, though, simmering beneath every brush of her fingers, every glance she held for a second too long.

Then one evening, she invited me over to her flat. "Just to chill," she’d said. Nothing serious. She wore an oversized T-shirt and those tiny shorts that barely covered her ass, and underneath… red lace lingerie I wasn’t meant to see just yet — but she made sure I caught a glimpse.

We sat close on the couch. Her thigh brushed mine. Her scent — musky and faintly sweet — was intoxicating. She leaned in, her eyes searching mine. “You’ve been thinking about this, haven’t you?” she whispered, lips grazing my ear. I could feel her breath and my control slip at the same time.

I kissed her hard. No more games. She wrapped her legs around my waist as I lifted her. Our mouths never parted as I pinned her against the wall, hands tracing her curves — her ass was perfect, full and soft, begging to be grabbed. Her moans got louder when I slid my hand under her shirt, cupping her breasts — full, warm, nipples already hard beneath the lace.

“Fuck me,” she said, grinding on me, her voice thick with lust. “Right here.”

We made it to her bed somehow. Clothes hit the floor in seconds. She was wearing that same red lace — bra undone and tossed aside, panties yanked down just enough to feel how wet she already was. I tasted her, felt her thighs tighten around my head, her fingers digging into my hair as she gasped, “Don’t stop—just like that…”

Just as I slid into her, deep and slow, the power cut. Complete darkness. Just the sound of our breath, the fan dying, and the unforgiving heat of a Delhi summer crawling over our slick bodies.

But we didn’t stop.

We fucked through the sweat. Her nails raked down my back, our skin sticking and sliding, breaths ragged. I pulled her legs wide, watched her body in faint moonlight as she arched into me, her breasts bouncing, her moans louder now — raw and real.

She rode me like she was starving for it. I gripped her ass, guided her pace — fast, deep, desperate. Sweat dripped down both our bodies, but the heat only made it better. She was glowing, soaked, hair messy, lipstick smudged, panting in my ear, “God, you feel so fucking good…”

When we came — it was loud, chaotic, and damn near primal. We collapsed onto the sheets, sticky, exhausted, and satisfied.

No light. No fan. Just the afterglow and her body curled against mine, still pulsing with heat.