The first real sunlight sliced through the gap in the blackout curtains like a knife—thin, pale gold, cutting across the tangled sheets and the mess they’d made of each other.

Priya was on her side now, one leg thrown over Arjun’s hip, his softening cock still half-inside her because neither of them had bothered to pull apart after the last round. Her skin was sticky with sweat, dried cum, spit, and the faint metallic tang of hotel air. His hand rested possessively on the curve of her ass, fingers idly tracing the red handprints he’d left hours earlier.