The Call That Shattered Barriers
One such story involved a day when Jasmine was late to the airport because she and Ryan were… preoccupied. Geeta had called, her voice sharp with irritation, only to be met with the unmistakable sounds of passion.
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The morning sun streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the penthouse, casting a golden glow over the tangled sheets and discarded designer clothes. Jasmine lay sprawled across the bed, her hair a wild cascade against the pillows, her body still humming from the night's relentless passion. Ryan's arm draped possessively over her waist, his breathing steady and deep.
The shrill ring of Jasmine's phone shattered the quiet. She groaned, reaching blindly for the device on the nightstand. The caller ID flashed Geeta Sethi.
"Ugh, it's Geeta," Jasmine muttered, her voice thick with sleep and satisfaction.
Ryan propped himself up on one elbow, a smirk playing on his lips. "Answer it. Let her hear what she's missing."
Jasmine shot him a mischievous grin, her fingers brushing against his chest as she swiped to answer the call. She didn't bother to mute herself or hide the evidence of their activities. Instead, she leaned back against the headboard, her free hand trailing down Ryan's torso as she greeted Geeta with a breathy, "Hey, Geeta. What's up?"
On the other end, Geeta's voice was sharp and impatient. "Jasmine, where the hell are you? The flight leaves in an hour, and you're not even at the airport!"
Jasmine's response was interrupted by a low moan as Ryan's hands found her hips, pulling her closer. She bit her lip, her voice trembling slightly as she replied, "I'm… uh… running a little late. Got caught up in something."
The sound of their bodies meeting—wet, rhythmic, and unmistakable—echoed through the phone. Jasmine made no effort to stifle her gasps or the slick, sensual noises that filled the room. If anything, she leaned into it, her voice dripping with faux innocence. "Sorry, Geeta. I'll be there as soon as I can."
Geeta's silence was deafening. For a moment, there was only the sound of Jasmine's escalating moans and the rhythmic slap of skin against skin. Then, Geeta's voice cut through, laced with disbelief and a hint of something darker. "Jasmine, are you—are you serious right now?"
Jasmine laughed, a low, throaty sound that sent shivers down Ryan's spine. "What can I say? Sometimes you just have to… prioritize."
Ryan's grip tightened, his movements growing more deliberate as he watched Jasmine's face flush with pleasure. She arched her back, her free hand gripping the sheets as she let out a particularly loud moan. "Oh, God—Geeta, I'll call you back, okay? I'm a little… busy."
Before Geeta could respond, Jasmine didn't end the call, tossing the phone aside. Her eyes met Ryan's, filled with a mix of mischief and desire. "Think she heard u?"
Ryan chuckled, his hands roaming her body with renewed intensity, knowing that Geeta was still on the call and hearing. "Oh, she heard it. Loud and clear."
Aftermath: A Shift in Power Dynamics
The call marked a turning point. Geeta, ever the pragmatist, couldn't ignore the blatant display of Jasmine's newfound allegiance. It wasn't just about the sex—it was about the power Ryan wielded, the way he could make even the most independent women bend to his will.
When Jasmine finally arrived at the airport, hours late and radiating smug satisfaction, Geeta's glare could have melted steel. But beneath the anger was something else—curiosity, perhaps, or even envy desiring the same luxurious life and sexual pleasure.
Ryan, watching from the shadows, knew the seeds had been planted. Geeta was already hooked with desire, but her morality—that was the final piece of the puzzle that needed to be shattered. And he intended to claim it, one way or another.
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Geeta's Perspective: The Uninvited Intimacy
Geeta stood frozen in the cramped airport staff lounge, her phone pressed tightly to her ear. The call had been meant to reprimand Jasmine for her tardiness, but now she found herself trapped in a private theater of sound—a symphony of moans, gasps, and rhythmic friction that left her breathless. Her grip tightened on the phone, her knuckles whitening as Jasmine's voice dissolved into another shameless cry of pleasure.
"Oh God—Ryan, don't stop—"
The line crackled with the raw, unfiltered sounds of passion. Geeta's cheeks burned, her pulse quickening despite her fury. She should have hung up. She knew she should have hung up. But her body betrayed her, rooted to the spot as heat pooled low in her stomach. Her free hand drifted unconsciously to the hem of her breasts, fingers trembling as they grazed the sensitive skin beneath.
"Harder—yes, just like that—ahh....ahh.aaaah.." Jasmine's voice broke into a whimper, followed by Ryan's low, approving growl and the wet sounds of their bodies hitting each other.
Geeta's breath hitched. She glanced around the empty lounge, guilt and shame warring with the illicit thrill coursing through her veins. Her back pressed against the cold wall as she slid down to the floor, legs folding beneath her. The phone fell to her lap, its speaker still broadcasting every gasp and sigh.
"You're so fucking perfect, Jasmine," Ryan murmured, his voice rough with desire.
Geeta's eyes fluttered shut. Against her will, her fingers slipped beneath the waistband of her pencil skirt reaching her pussy, her touch feather-light at first, then firmer as the sounds from the phone stoked a fire she'd long suppressed. She bit her lip to stifle a whimper, from fingering her pussy with one hand and squeezing her breasts with the other, her mind a whirlwind of anger and arousal.
How dare they? she thought, even as her hips arched involuntarily. How dare they drag me into this?
But the rhythm of their lovemaking—the wet slap of skin, Jasmine's escalating cries—had already hijacked her senses. Her fingers moved with a will of their own, circling the aching heat between her legs. The friction was electric, her body responding to the primal soundtrack of their pleasure.
"Geeta—are you still there?" Jasmine's voice suddenly cut through the haze, breathless and mocking.
Geeta froze, her hand jerking away as if scalded. Humiliation flooded her. She scrambled to end the call, her trembling fingers fumbling with the screen. But not before she heard Ryan's dark chuckle, followed by a single, deliberate command:
"Come for me, Geeta. Now."
The line went dead.
Alone in the silence, Geeta slumped against the wall, her chest heaving. Shame prickled behind her eyelids, but her body still thrummed with unmet need. She pressed her forehead to her knees, disgusted with herself—and yet, a treacherous part of her wondered what it would feel like to be the one unraveling under Ryan's touch.
When she finally stood, smoothing her wrinkled uniform with unsteady hands, she avoided her reflection in the lounge mirror. But the flush on her skin and the dampness between her thighs told a story she couldn't escape—one where anger and desire were no longer separate but twisted together like poison and honey.
This emphasizes Geeta's complex emotions—rage, envy, and reluctant arousal from her suppressed sexual desires.