The clock had just touched 11:47 PM. A slow drizzle fell outside, dusting the windowpanes with raindrops. Inside Penthouse 484, the lights were dim, warm orange hues casting shadows on the marble floor. A soft jazz instrumental played from the speaker — Siya’s pick. She always claimed it “sets the mood.”

Reyansh walked out of the bathroom, towel-drying his hair, still wearing his police cargos and vest. His muscles glistened with leftover water. But his steps slowed as soon as he saw her.

Siya stood near the balcony curtains, her back to him, wearing a thin, silky deep red nightgown, the strap of which kept falling off her shoulder.

He didn’t say anything. Just stood there… breathing.

“I was waiting,” she said, not turning around.

“For?”

Her eyes met his over her shoulder. “My punishment.”

His throat went dry.

“You mean my reward?” he asked, walking toward her.

But before he could touch her, Siya turned and pressed a finger against his lips. “Tonight… I’m in charge.”

Reyansh raised an eyebrow, teasing, “Says the girl who once slipped while trying to seduce me with milkshake on her lips.”

Siya smirked. “That girl grew up.”

In a swift move, she pushed him against the wall — barely reaching his chest — but her confidence made her taller than the sky. Her hands slid under his vest, feeling the heat of his skin. He inhaled sharply as she leaned in and whispered near his ear:

“Sit down, Officer Rathore. You’ve had a long day… let your wife take care of you tonight.”

He obeyed like a criminal under interrogation.

On the couch, she straddled him, her nightgown sliding up her thighs. Her lips teased his neck, trailing down to his collarbone. She took her time — slow, deliberate, loving.

Their kisses turned desperate.

Their touches turned addictive.

Every second felt like borrowed time — like the world outside didn’t exist.

Just when Reyansh whispered, “Siya… don’t stop…”

His phone buzzed.

He ignored it.

Then it buzzed again — louder, urgent.

“No,” he murmured, holding her tighter.

Siya sighed against his lips. “Duty?”

He nodded slowly, his eyes tired and frustrated.

Siya climbed off, gently fixing his vest. “Go, Rey. Someone out there needs their hero.”

He looked at her, cupped her face, and kissed her forehead. “But right now… I need you more than the whole world.”

She smiled softly. “And I’ll be right here… waiting.”

As the door shut behind him, Siya curled up on the couch, hugging the pillow he sat on, his scent still fresh. She turned up the jazz music, the night still heavy with love.

And somewhere in the distance, thunder rumbled — but Penthouse 484 had already felt its storm.

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