20-03-2025, 12:36 PM
The sheets of the five-star hotel bed were a drenched, tangled ruin, soaked with sweat and the sticky aftermath of Arjun and Maya’s relentless fucking. The room—a sprawling suite at the Taj Mumbai—glowed with morning light streaming through floor-to-ceiling windows, the Arabian Sea shimmering beyond the glass, oblivious to their chaos. Maya sprawled across Arjun’s chest, her naked body plastered to his, her dusky skin slick and flushed from hours of raw, animalistic sex. Her thighs glistened with their mingled cum, her pussy swollen and tender from his brutal thrusts, her heavy breasts pressed against his ribs, nipples chafed red from his teeth and tongue. Her dark hair splayed across the plush pillows, damp strands clinging to her neck where his lips had ravaged her moments ago. Arjun’s arm coiled around her, his rough fingers digging into her hip, tracing the bruises he’d left, his breath still jagged from their latest climax.
It had kicked off the night before, a wildfire of lust igniting after he’d driven her back from a late board meeting. In the hotel’s underground garage, inside her Mercedes, Maya had ripped her skirt up, tearing her panties aside as she straddled him, his driver’s cap hitting the floor. She’d sunk onto his thick cock, her wet cunt swallowing him deep, her hips slamming down as she fucked him raw, the car rocking with each thrust. Her juices coated his shaft, dripping onto his balls as she ground her clit against him, cumming with a guttural scream, her walls pulsing tight around him. He’d gripped her ass, thrusting up into her dripping heat, his release exploding hot and thick inside her, spilling out to stain the leather as she shuddered above him.
They’d barely made it to the suite. In the elevator, she’d yanked his shirt open, her hands clawing his chest as he pinned her to the mirrored wall, hiking her leg up and slamming into her again, his cock stretching her soaked pussy with every savage stroke. Her back smeared the glass, her moans bouncing off the walls as he sucked her tits, biting her nipples until they throbbed, her cum slicking his chin when he dropped to his knees and devoured her—tongue plunging into her folds, lips sucking her clit until she squirted, her thighs quaking as she drenched his face. In the suite’s marble bathroom, he’d bent her over the sink, her breasts flattening against the cold counter, fucking her from behind, his balls slapping her ass, her screams echoing as he fingered her clit, wrenching another orgasm from her spasming body.
The king-sized bed was their final arena. Dawn broke with Maya on her back, legs hooked over his shoulders, his cock buried balls-deep as he pounded her, the wet smack of their flesh loud against the hum of the AC. Her pussy gripped him, slick and tight, her juices soaking the crisp sheets as he angled deeper, hitting that spot that made her eyes roll back. She’d clawed his back raw, her voice hoarse from screaming his name—“Arjun, fuck, yes!”—her tits bouncing with each thrust, her body convulsing through climax after climax. He’d flipped her onto her knees, yanking her hips up, slamming into her doggy-style, his hands bruising her ass as he fucked her senseless, her cum dripping down her thighs, his own release flooding her again, hot and messy, until they collapsed in a sweaty heap.
Now, as their breathing steadied, the room service boy knocked—a polite tap signaling breakfast. Arjun shifted, his cock still half-hard inside her, slick with their combined mess, starting to pull out, but Maya’s hand clamped his wrist. “Don’t you dare,” she rasped, her voice rough with lust, her hazel eyes blazing with that fierce edge he craved. “Keep going.”
He grinned, a wicked spark in his dark gaze, and obeyed. The door swung open, the boy wheeling in a silver cart—coffee, croissants, fruit—but Maya didn’t flinch. She yanked Arjun closer, guiding his throbbing cock back into her swollen pussy, her hips bucking to meet his thrust as the cart clinked to a stop. The boy froze, jaw dropping, stammering, “S-sorry, ma’am,” as he glimpsed her legs splayed wide, Arjun’s shaft plunging into her dripping cunt, her breasts jiggling with each pump. “Faster,” she hissed, loud enough to echo through the suite, her breath catching as Arjun ramped up, his balls slapping her ass, the bed’s plush frame creaking under them.
The boy bolted, the door slamming, and Arjun laughed against her neck, his thrusts relentless. “You’re shameless, boss,” he murmured, his voice a low growl, his teeth grazing her ear as he drove deeper, her pussy clenching around him. Maya’s laugh was wild, throaty, her body arching as another orgasm coiled tight, her thighs quaking. “You love it,” she gasped, and he did—loved how she gave herself to him, fearless and raw, heedless of the five-star elegance around their sweat-soaked tangle.
He fucked her harder, his cock pulsing inside her, her clit throbbing against his pelvis as she came again, a sharp cry tearing from her throat, her walls milking him until he erupted, his cum flooding her with a groan, hot spurts mixing with hers. They collapsed, panting, the breakfast cart ignored beside the bed, coffee cooling as Maya’s head lolled on his chest, her fingers brushing the scars on his knuckles—marks she thought were from a rough driver’s life, not the battles of a billionaire heir.
“God, you’re good,” she murmured, her voice soft now, sated. “How’d I get so lucky with a driver like you?”
Arjun smirked, his hand sliding up her spine, hiding the weight of his secrets. “Just know how to handle the curves, ma’am,” he teased, his tone playful, but his mind was elsewhere. He’d checked his phone in the night—encrypted messages from his family’s network: an audit closing in on Maya’s company, her husband’s laundering exposed in hidden files, a trafficking trip to Goa set for tomorrow. Maya didn’t know the danger, didn’t know Imran’s betrayal or the empire Arjun wielded to shield her.
He’d been her driver for six months, a cover he’d taken to stay near her, to guard her from threats she couldn’t see. She saw him as a thrill, a daring escape from her suffocating marriage to Imran—a man she barely tolerated, clueless about his drug-lord life or his groveling to a woman plotting her ruin. Arjun played the part—cocky, rough-edged, fucking her senseless—but behind the wheel, he was the heir to a hidden Asian dynasty, his wealth and spies dismantling the dangers circling him.
Maya stirred, her lips brushing his chest, sticky with sweat. “Drive me to the office later?” she mumbled, half-asleep. “Need to prep for that solar pitch.”
“Anything for you, boss,” Arjun replied, his voice smooth, his grip tightening on her hip. He’d drive her—past the chaos brewing, into the victory she’d earned—his true power hidden, her trust in him unshaken.
Hours later, after a quick shower and checkout, Arjun pulled the Mercedes into the underground cellar of a gleaming high-rise in Mumbai’s prime business district. Maya’s solar company rented the top floor, a sleek testament to her ambition, but the cellar—dim, concrete, lined with parked cars—was their next playground. She’d barely waited for him to park, her skirt already hiked up as she climbed into the backseat, pulling him with her.
“Fuck me again,” she demanded, her voice husky, yanking his shirt open as she straddled him. Her pussy was still tender from the hotel, but she didn’t care—her fingers fumbled with his belt, freeing his cock, already thick and hard for her. She sank onto him with a groan, her wet heat swallowing him whole, her juices slicking his shaft as she started riding him. The car rocked, suspension creaking, her tits bouncing under her blouse as she ground her clit against him, chasing another high.
Arjun gripped her hips, thrusting up into her, his balls slapping her ass with each stroke. “You’re insatiable, boss,” he growled, his hands sliding under her blouse to squeeze her breasts, pinching her nipples through the fabric until she gasped. Her pussy clenched around him, dripping onto his thighs, the air thick with the musky scent of their sex—sweat, cum, and her faint perfume mingling in the confined space. She leaned forward, her lips crashing into his, tongues tangling as she fucked him harder, the wet smack of their bodies echoing off the concrete walls.
He flipped her onto her back across the seat, yanking her legs apart, her skirt bunched around her waist. His cock plunged back in, deep and relentless, her moans bouncing around the cellar as he pounded her, the car’s leather creaking beneath them. Her nails raked his arms, her eyes locked on his, wild and desperate. “Harder,” she rasped, and he obeyed, his thrusts brutal, her pussy gushing around him as she came, a sharp cry tearing from her throat, her walls pulsing tight. He followed, groaning as he spilled into her, hot spurts flooding her already-soaked cunt, their cum dripping onto the seat as he slumped over her.
They lay there, panting, the cellar’s cool air brushing their overheated skin. Maya laughed softly, catching her breath, her fingers tracing the scars on his knuckles—marks she thought were from a rough driver’s life. “You’re gonna kill me one of these days,” she teased, sitting up to fix her skirt.
Arjun chuckled, zipping up, but his expression sobered as he leaned back. “Listen, boss… I need to tell you something.” He paused, running a hand through his dark hair. “I’ve got some work coming up. Gotta head out for four months. Leaving tomorrow.”
Maya froze, her blouse half-buttoned, her eyes narrowing. “Four months? What the hell, Arjun? What work?”
He shrugged, keeping it vague, his tone casual but firm. “Just a gig. Driving job, long haul. Can’t get out of it.” He met her gaze, softening slightly. “I’ll be back, though. You won’t even miss me.”
She scoffed, but there was a flicker of something—disappointment, maybe—in her eyes. “Bullshit. Who’s gonna drive me—and fuck me—like you do?” She smirked, masking the sting, then sighed. “Fine. But you’d better be back in one piece.”
“Promise,” he said, grinning, though his mind was already shifting. He didn’t know the storm brewing—Salma’s audit, the drug-lord Imran’s laundering, the Goa trafficking play—but he’d felt a gut instinct to stick close to her these past six months. Now, with this job pulling him away, he’d have to trust she’d hold her own. She saw him as her daring driver, her dirty secret who fucked her senseless, and for now, that’s all he was.
Maya climbed out, smoothing her hair. “Come on, help me with that pitch upstairs. Then you’re free—until you ditch me tomorrow.”
He followed, locking the car, the echo of their sex still lingering in the cellar air. Four months was a long stretch, but he’d be back—ready to drive her wild again, unaware of the threats circling her empire or the power he’d one day wield to crush them.
It had kicked off the night before, a wildfire of lust igniting after he’d driven her back from a late board meeting. In the hotel’s underground garage, inside her Mercedes, Maya had ripped her skirt up, tearing her panties aside as she straddled him, his driver’s cap hitting the floor. She’d sunk onto his thick cock, her wet cunt swallowing him deep, her hips slamming down as she fucked him raw, the car rocking with each thrust. Her juices coated his shaft, dripping onto his balls as she ground her clit against him, cumming with a guttural scream, her walls pulsing tight around him. He’d gripped her ass, thrusting up into her dripping heat, his release exploding hot and thick inside her, spilling out to stain the leather as she shuddered above him.
They’d barely made it to the suite. In the elevator, she’d yanked his shirt open, her hands clawing his chest as he pinned her to the mirrored wall, hiking her leg up and slamming into her again, his cock stretching her soaked pussy with every savage stroke. Her back smeared the glass, her moans bouncing off the walls as he sucked her tits, biting her nipples until they throbbed, her cum slicking his chin when he dropped to his knees and devoured her—tongue plunging into her folds, lips sucking her clit until she squirted, her thighs quaking as she drenched his face. In the suite’s marble bathroom, he’d bent her over the sink, her breasts flattening against the cold counter, fucking her from behind, his balls slapping her ass, her screams echoing as he fingered her clit, wrenching another orgasm from her spasming body.
The king-sized bed was their final arena. Dawn broke with Maya on her back, legs hooked over his shoulders, his cock buried balls-deep as he pounded her, the wet smack of their flesh loud against the hum of the AC. Her pussy gripped him, slick and tight, her juices soaking the crisp sheets as he angled deeper, hitting that spot that made her eyes roll back. She’d clawed his back raw, her voice hoarse from screaming his name—“Arjun, fuck, yes!”—her tits bouncing with each thrust, her body convulsing through climax after climax. He’d flipped her onto her knees, yanking her hips up, slamming into her doggy-style, his hands bruising her ass as he fucked her senseless, her cum dripping down her thighs, his own release flooding her again, hot and messy, until they collapsed in a sweaty heap.
Now, as their breathing steadied, the room service boy knocked—a polite tap signaling breakfast. Arjun shifted, his cock still half-hard inside her, slick with their combined mess, starting to pull out, but Maya’s hand clamped his wrist. “Don’t you dare,” she rasped, her voice rough with lust, her hazel eyes blazing with that fierce edge he craved. “Keep going.”
He grinned, a wicked spark in his dark gaze, and obeyed. The door swung open, the boy wheeling in a silver cart—coffee, croissants, fruit—but Maya didn’t flinch. She yanked Arjun closer, guiding his throbbing cock back into her swollen pussy, her hips bucking to meet his thrust as the cart clinked to a stop. The boy froze, jaw dropping, stammering, “S-sorry, ma’am,” as he glimpsed her legs splayed wide, Arjun’s shaft plunging into her dripping cunt, her breasts jiggling with each pump. “Faster,” she hissed, loud enough to echo through the suite, her breath catching as Arjun ramped up, his balls slapping her ass, the bed’s plush frame creaking under them.
The boy bolted, the door slamming, and Arjun laughed against her neck, his thrusts relentless. “You’re shameless, boss,” he murmured, his voice a low growl, his teeth grazing her ear as he drove deeper, her pussy clenching around him. Maya’s laugh was wild, throaty, her body arching as another orgasm coiled tight, her thighs quaking. “You love it,” she gasped, and he did—loved how she gave herself to him, fearless and raw, heedless of the five-star elegance around their sweat-soaked tangle.
He fucked her harder, his cock pulsing inside her, her clit throbbing against his pelvis as she came again, a sharp cry tearing from her throat, her walls milking him until he erupted, his cum flooding her with a groan, hot spurts mixing with hers. They collapsed, panting, the breakfast cart ignored beside the bed, coffee cooling as Maya’s head lolled on his chest, her fingers brushing the scars on his knuckles—marks she thought were from a rough driver’s life, not the battles of a billionaire heir.
“God, you’re good,” she murmured, her voice soft now, sated. “How’d I get so lucky with a driver like you?”
Arjun smirked, his hand sliding up her spine, hiding the weight of his secrets. “Just know how to handle the curves, ma’am,” he teased, his tone playful, but his mind was elsewhere. He’d checked his phone in the night—encrypted messages from his family’s network: an audit closing in on Maya’s company, her husband’s laundering exposed in hidden files, a trafficking trip to Goa set for tomorrow. Maya didn’t know the danger, didn’t know Imran’s betrayal or the empire Arjun wielded to shield her.
He’d been her driver for six months, a cover he’d taken to stay near her, to guard her from threats she couldn’t see. She saw him as a thrill, a daring escape from her suffocating marriage to Imran—a man she barely tolerated, clueless about his drug-lord life or his groveling to a woman plotting her ruin. Arjun played the part—cocky, rough-edged, fucking her senseless—but behind the wheel, he was the heir to a hidden Asian dynasty, his wealth and spies dismantling the dangers circling him.
Maya stirred, her lips brushing his chest, sticky with sweat. “Drive me to the office later?” she mumbled, half-asleep. “Need to prep for that solar pitch.”
“Anything for you, boss,” Arjun replied, his voice smooth, his grip tightening on her hip. He’d drive her—past the chaos brewing, into the victory she’d earned—his true power hidden, her trust in him unshaken.
Hours later, after a quick shower and checkout, Arjun pulled the Mercedes into the underground cellar of a gleaming high-rise in Mumbai’s prime business district. Maya’s solar company rented the top floor, a sleek testament to her ambition, but the cellar—dim, concrete, lined with parked cars—was their next playground. She’d barely waited for him to park, her skirt already hiked up as she climbed into the backseat, pulling him with her.
“Fuck me again,” she demanded, her voice husky, yanking his shirt open as she straddled him. Her pussy was still tender from the hotel, but she didn’t care—her fingers fumbled with his belt, freeing his cock, already thick and hard for her. She sank onto him with a groan, her wet heat swallowing him whole, her juices slicking his shaft as she started riding him. The car rocked, suspension creaking, her tits bouncing under her blouse as she ground her clit against him, chasing another high.
Arjun gripped her hips, thrusting up into her, his balls slapping her ass with each stroke. “You’re insatiable, boss,” he growled, his hands sliding under her blouse to squeeze her breasts, pinching her nipples through the fabric until she gasped. Her pussy clenched around him, dripping onto his thighs, the air thick with the musky scent of their sex—sweat, cum, and her faint perfume mingling in the confined space. She leaned forward, her lips crashing into his, tongues tangling as she fucked him harder, the wet smack of their bodies echoing off the concrete walls.
He flipped her onto her back across the seat, yanking her legs apart, her skirt bunched around her waist. His cock plunged back in, deep and relentless, her moans bouncing around the cellar as he pounded her, the car’s leather creaking beneath them. Her nails raked his arms, her eyes locked on his, wild and desperate. “Harder,” she rasped, and he obeyed, his thrusts brutal, her pussy gushing around him as she came, a sharp cry tearing from her throat, her walls pulsing tight. He followed, groaning as he spilled into her, hot spurts flooding her already-soaked cunt, their cum dripping onto the seat as he slumped over her.
They lay there, panting, the cellar’s cool air brushing their overheated skin. Maya laughed softly, catching her breath, her fingers tracing the scars on his knuckles—marks she thought were from a rough driver’s life. “You’re gonna kill me one of these days,” she teased, sitting up to fix her skirt.
Arjun chuckled, zipping up, but his expression sobered as he leaned back. “Listen, boss… I need to tell you something.” He paused, running a hand through his dark hair. “I’ve got some work coming up. Gotta head out for four months. Leaving tomorrow.”
Maya froze, her blouse half-buttoned, her eyes narrowing. “Four months? What the hell, Arjun? What work?”
He shrugged, keeping it vague, his tone casual but firm. “Just a gig. Driving job, long haul. Can’t get out of it.” He met her gaze, softening slightly. “I’ll be back, though. You won’t even miss me.”
She scoffed, but there was a flicker of something—disappointment, maybe—in her eyes. “Bullshit. Who’s gonna drive me—and fuck me—like you do?” She smirked, masking the sting, then sighed. “Fine. But you’d better be back in one piece.”
“Promise,” he said, grinning, though his mind was already shifting. He didn’t know the storm brewing—Salma’s audit, the drug-lord Imran’s laundering, the Goa trafficking play—but he’d felt a gut instinct to stick close to her these past six months. Now, with this job pulling him away, he’d have to trust she’d hold her own. She saw him as her daring driver, her dirty secret who fucked her senseless, and for now, that’s all he was.
Maya climbed out, smoothing her hair. “Come on, help me with that pitch upstairs. Then you’re free—until you ditch me tomorrow.”
He followed, locking the car, the echo of their sex still lingering in the cellar air. Four months was a long stretch, but he’d be back—ready to drive her wild again, unaware of the threats circling her empire or the power he’d one day wield to crush them.
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