His best friend

I texted Ravi at 9:15 the next night. Room 412. Door will be open. Come now or don’t come at all.“I’m not doing this,” he said. His voice was tight. “Arjun is my best friend. He doesn’t even know”

“Then don’t walk in,” I said. “Stay on the phone and listen.”

I put him on speaker, set the phone on the nightstand, and let my fingers slide between my legs. The sound was wet and obvious in the quiet room. Ravi went silent on the other end. Ravi stood in the hallway in the same shirt he’d worn to the bar, jaw clenched, eyes flicking from my open thighs to the phone still recording on the nightstand.

“Turn that off,” he said.

“No.” I spread my knees wider. “Come here and shut me up if you hate it so much.”

He crossed the room in three steps, grabbed my wrist, and yanked my hand away from my cunt. His grip was hard. I smiled up at him.

“You denied me for eight whole minutes,” I said.I reached for his belt, popped the button, and shoved my hand inside. He was thick and hot and already leaking. I stroked him once, rough, and his breath caught.

Ravi’s control snapped. He shoved me back onto the mattress, yanked the skirt off, and forced my thighs apart. Two fingers pushed in hard. I was soaked. He curled them, dragged them out, and wiped them across my mouth.

“You forced this,” he growled. “Remember that.”

Then he was on me. No more hesitation. He shoved his jeans down just far enough, lined up, and drove in with one brutal thrust. The stretch punched the air out of me. I cried out—loud, sharp—and he clamped a hand over my mouth.

“Scream all you want,” he said against my ear. “These walls are thin and I don’t care. Your brother thinks I’m home. He has no idea his best friend is balls-deep in the sister he called fat.”

He pulled almost all the way out and slammed back in. The headboard cracked against the wall. I bit his palm. He laughed, low and mean, and fucked me harder, each thrust shoving me up the bed. My legs wrapped around his waist on instinct. He grabbed one ankle and forced it higher, folding me open so he could go deeper.

“Listen to yourself,” he panted. “You walked in here thinking you were still in charge. Now you’re taking my cock like you need it. Arjun would lose his mind if he heard how wet you are for me.”

I clawed at his back. He caught both wrists, pinned them above my head with one hand, and kept pounding. The angle was ruthless. Every stroke dragged against the spot that made my vision blur. I couldn’t stay quiet. The sounds kept ripping out of me—high, broken, nothing like the controlled voice I’d used with Rajesh.

Ravi leaned down, mouth against my ear, still fucking me in long, heavy strokes.

“Say his name,” he ordered. “Tell the empty room what his best friend is doing to you.”

“Ravi—fuck—Arjun’s best friend is wrecking me,” I gasped. “He’s fucking me in the same hotel. Same bed. And I can’t stop screaming because he won’t slow down.”

“Louder.”

He released my wrists, gripped my hips, and flipped me onto my stomach in one rough motion. Before I could catch my breath he hauled my ass up and drove back in. The new angle made me sob into the pillow. He didn’t ease up. One hand fisted in my hair, the other spread across my lower back, holding me exactly where he wanted while he fucked me like he was trying to erase every other man who had touched me.

“You forced me into this room,” he snarled. “Now take it. Take every inch while I tell you what Arjun’s never going to get. He’s at home right now thinking his sister is loyal. Thinking his best friend would never touch her. And you’re dripping down my cock, screaming so loud the people next door can hear exactly how wrong he is.”

I came without warning, clenching hard around him, voice cracking into a raw cry that echoed off the cheap walls. Ravi groaned and kept going, fucking me through it, hips snapping harder as my body shook. He didn’t stop until I was limp and oversensitive, then he pulled out, flipped me again, and shoved his cock against my lips.

“Open. Clean it. And look at the phone while you do.”

I did. Eyes on the lens, I sucked him messy and deep, tasting myself, letting spit run down his shaft. He gripped my hair and thrust into my mouth twice, three times, then pulled out and came across my tongue and lips in thick pulses. I swallowed what I could and let the rest drip while the recording caught every second.

Ravi was breathing hard, still kneeling over me. He glanced at the phone, then back at my face.

“He doesn’t know,” he said, voice wrecked. “Not about this room. Not about me. Not yet.”

I licked my lips, reached over, and stopped the recording. Saved it. Didn’t send it. I just looked up at him, thighs still trembling, and smiled.

“Next time you don’t get to deny me for even eight minutes,” I said. “And next time you’re going to make me scream his name so loud he hears it through the phone when I call him after.”

Ravi didn’t answer. He just stared at the mess on my mouth and the red marks his fingers had left on my hips, and stayed exactly where he was.