The vanity van door clicked shut behind Ajay, sealing Karishma in a new kind of silence, broken only by the heavy, possessive weight of Harshad’s stare. The air, thick with the smell of his cum and her own submission, seemed to pulse. Her body ached, a symphony of pain from her well-used ass and the tender, swollen flesh between her legs.

“Come here,” Harshad’s voice was a low command, no longer the growl of a predator but the calm, undeniable order of a man who knew he owned every inch of the space, and of her.