The morning sun filtered through the sheer curtains of Avni’s upscale suburban bedroom, casting a golden glow over the tangled mess of silk sheets on her king-sized bed. She stirred, her long, toned legs caught in the fabric, a restless sigh escaping her full lips. Another day alone. Another day with that familiar ache gnawing at her core, a fire her husband—off on yet another “urgent” business trip—hadn’t bothered to stoke in months. Neglect had become her constant companion, and she was damn tired of it.
Avni rolled onto her back, her dark hair splayed across the pillow, and let her hand drift beneath the sheets. Her fingers found the heat between her thighs, and a low moan slipped out as she began to tease herself, chasing the release she so desperately craved. Her movements were urgent, almost angry, as if she could punish her body for its endless yearning. Her breath hitched, her hips arching off the bed, so close to that sweet edge—
*Ding-dong.*
The shrill chime of the doorbell sliced through her haze like a knife. Avni froze, her fingers stilled, her chest heaving. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” she muttered through gritted teeth. She waited, hoping it was a fluke, a delivery driver who’d leave a package and vanish. Her hand resumed its rhythm, slower now, trying to reclaim the moment.
*Ding-dong. Ding-dong.*
“Unbelievable!” she snapped, yanking her hand away and throwing the sheets off. Her body throbbed with unspent need as she swung her legs over the side of the bed, her silk nightgown clinging to her curves like a second skin. The fabric was barely decent, the deep V of the neckline dipping low, one strap already slipping off her shoulder. She didn’t care. Whoever was at the door was about to get an earful.
Storming through her pristine home, her bare feet slapping against the hardwood, Avni reached the front door and flung it open with a force that made the hinges groan. “What the hell do you—” Her words caught in her throat as she took in the sight before her.
A man stood there, scruffy and unkempt, his clothes little more than rags hanging off his lean frame. His hair was a wild mess, his stubble days past due for a shave, but his sheepish grin held a certain roguish charm. “Uh, sorry to bother you, ma’am,” he mumbled, scratching the back of his neck. “I was just wonderin’ if you had any food to spare. I ain’t eaten in a couple days.”
Avni’s initial rage flared hotter. A beggar. A filthy, intrusive beggar, daring to interrupt her at the worst possible moment. She opened her mouth to tell him to get lost, to slam the door in his grimy face, but then her gaze dropped—purely by accident, or so she told herself. And there it was. Beneath the tattered fabric of his worn-out pants, a bulge. Not just any bulge, but a half-erect promise that made her breath catch. It was… substantial. Far more than her husband had ever brought to the table, even on his best day.
Her interrupted arousal roared back to life, mixing with a dangerous curiosity. She bit her lip, her anger morphing into something else entirely. Something hungry. Instead of snapping at him, Avni tilted her head, letting a slow, sly smile curl her lips. “Well, aren’t you a sorry sight,” she purred, her voice dripping with mock pity as she leaned against the doorframe, making no effort to fix the slipping strap of her nightgown. “What’s your name, stray?”
He blinked, caught off guard by her tone. “Uh, Vikas, ma’am. I didn’t mean to—”
“Shush,” she cut him off, waving a dismissive hand. “You look like you’ve been dragged through a gutter. But I’m feeling generous today. Come in. I’ll see if I’ve got some leftovers for a poor, starving soul like you.”
Vikas hesitated, his eyes flicking over her barely covered form before quickly darting away. “I don’t wanna be no trouble, ma’am. I can wait out here.”
“Oh, nonsense,” Avni insisted, stepping aside and gesturing him in with a flourish. “I’m not about to let the neighbors see me chatting with a ragamuffin on my doorstep. Get in here before I change my mind.”
He shuffled inside, his worn boots leaving faint streaks of dirt on her spotless floor. She didn’t care. Not right now. Closing the door behind him, she crossed her arms under her chest, deliberately pushing her curves into sharper relief. “So, Vikas,” she drawled, leading him toward the kitchen, her hips swaying just a little more than necessary. “Do you make a habit of knocking on strangers’ doors, looking like you’ve rolled out of a dumpster? Or am I just lucky?”
He chuckled nervously, rubbing his neck again. “I, uh, don’t usually get invited in. Most folks just toss me a crust of bread and tell me to scram. You’re… different.”
“Different,” she echoed, arching a brow as she rummaged through the fridge, bending over just enough to let the hem of her nightgown ride up her thighs. “Is that your way of saying I’m a pushover? Because I assure you, darling, I’m anything but.”
“No, no, I didn’t mean—” he stammered, his eyes darting to her legs before snapping back to the ceiling. “You’re just… kinder than most. And, uh, prettier.”
Avni straightened, a container of leftover curry in hand, and turned to face him with a smirk. “Flattery, huh? From a man who smells like he hasn’t showered since the last monsoon. Bold move, Vikas. I like bold.” She stepped closer, setting the container on the counter beside him, her body just a breath away from his. “But let’s be clear. I’m not running a charity here. If I feed you, I expect something in return. Gratitude, at the very least. Think you can manage that?”
His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed hard, his gaze flickering between her face and the dangerously low neckline of her nightgown. “I… I can be grateful, ma’am. Real grateful. Whatever you want.”
Her laugh was low and throaty, a sound that sent a shiver down his spine. “Oh, careful now. You don’t even know what I might want.” She reached out, brushing a speck of dirt from his shoulder, her touch lingering just a second too long. “But I’ll give you a hint. It’s not just your stomach I’m interested in filling.”
Vikas’s eyes widened, and for a moment, he seemed at a loss for words. “I, uh, I’m not sure I follow, ma’am.”
“Call me Avni,” she corrected, her voice sharp but playful. “And don’t play dumb with me. I saw the way you looked at me when I opened the door. Like a starving man who just stumbled into a feast. So tell me, Vikas, are you hungry for more than just food?”
He shifted on his feet, clearly torn between caution and the undeniable pull of her presence. “I… I don’t wanna overstep, Avni. You’re bein’ real kind, and I’m just—”
“Filthy?” she supplied, her tone teasing as she stepped even closer, the heat of her body brushing against his. “Disheveled? Completely out of your depth? Yes, you are. And yet, here I am, entertaining the idea of letting you stay a little longer. Why do you think that is?”
His breath hitched, and that bulge she’d noticed earlier seemed to strain even more against his tattered pants. “I… I don’t know. But I ain’t complainin’.”
“Good boy,” she murmured, her lips curling into a wicked smile as she turned back to the counter, giving him a moment to collect himself. “Now, let’s get you fed. But don’t think for a second I’m done with you. We’ve only just started.”
As she heated up the leftovers, Avni kept her movements deliberate, every bend and stretch calculated to keep him on edge. The tension in the air was thick, electric, and she reveled in it. Vikas might have come to her door begging for scraps, but she was the one in control here. And if she played her cards right, she’d get exactly what she’d been craving—right under her own roof, with a man who didn’t even know the game he’d just stumbled into.
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