In the heart of New Delhi, a woman with raven-black hair and a lithe, nude body walked silently through her apartment. The moonlight streamed in through the window, casting a soft glow on her caramel skin as she made her way to the bedroom. She was an Indian beauty, her long hair cascading down her back, her full hips and breasts beckoning to the darkness.
As she entered the room, she saw a figure standing by the window. A man, his chiseled chest and abs glistening in the moonlight, his eyes locked onto her. They had been seeing each other for weeks, their passion igniting like the spark of a struck match.
He approached her, his gaze intense and unwavering. She looked up at him, her dark eyes filled with desire. He leaned in, his lips brushing against hers in a soft, lingering kiss. His hands roamed over her body, his fingertips tracing the curve of her waist, the swell of her hips.
Their kiss deepened, their tongues dancing together in a rhythm as old as time. He reached behind her, his fingers tangling in her hair as he pulled her closer. She gasped, her back arching as he nipped at her earlobe, his breath hot against her skin.
He trailed a line of kisses down her neck, his teeth grazing her collarbone as she moaned softly. His hands continued to roam, his fingers tweaking her nipples, causing her to gasp and writhe in his arms.
He lowered himself to his knees, his lips finding the curve of her breast. He teased her nipple with his tongue, his hands gripping her hips as she threaded her fingers through his hair.
