The room was heavy with the scent of lust and sweat, the bed creaking under their weight as Samrath pinned Tara beneath him. Her saree, a vibrant red, was bunched up around her waist, the delicate fabric crumpled and irrelevant in the heat of the moment. Her blouse, already torn at the shoulder, exposed her heaving breasts, one of which Samrath latched onto with a rough, hungry pull. His lips worked her nipple, sucking hard as if expecting milk, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin, drawing a sharp gasp from Tara's lips. 1
"Fuck, you're such a desperate slut," he growled, his voice low and commanding, his hips driving into her with deep, relentless strokes. Each thrust in the missionary position sent a jolt through Tara's body, her legs trembling as they spread wider to accommodate him. Her moans filled the air, a mix of pleasure and surrender, her fingers clawing at the bedsheets.
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