I exited the lift and walked towards my apartment.
My phone beeped. A text from my wife.
"Got held up at work. Will be home by 9."
I groaned. After a long, frustrating day at work I was aching for a hard, filthy fuck. Now Mansi would not be home for at least an hour. Worse, she would probably be too drained to take me the way I needed.
The air felt thick and stale as I stepped inside. I hated the flat when it sat this quiet, this empty. I flung my bag on the couch and drained an ice-cold bottle of water. It was a sweltering summer night in Delhi and the heat only fed the restless hunger crawling under my skin.
I made myself a sandwich and escaped to the bedroom, shut the door, and switched on the air conditioning.
Hookupup Tales arenât written in ink alone â theyâre carved out of time, shadows, and secrets. If youâve enjoyed reading my work and want to see more, you can support me here. Every bit of encouragement keeps me motivated to write the next chapter for you.
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