Shefali orgasm was a white-hot detonation that seemed to incinerate every nerve ending in her body before rebuilding them, one by one, in the aftermath. Her back arched off the bed, her fingers convulsing in the men's hair, a long, wailing cry tearing from her throat. Abhimanyu's tongue never stopped, working her through the spasms, drawing out every last tremor until she collapsed against the mattress, utterly spent.

For a long moment, there was only the sound of shefali ragged breathing and the gentle percussion of rain against the windows.