The next few days after that desk-fuck in the office, Riya started pushing boundaries—hard.

It began subtly. A tighter kurti here, a shorter dupatta there. But by Friday, she arrived in a cropped white tank top that barely covered her underboob—thin enough to show the outline of her hard nipples—and denim micro shorts that rode up her thick ass cheeks every time she bent to pick up Arjun’s toys. No bra, no panties (Karan could tell from the way the fabric clung to her cameltoe when she squatted). Her hair was loose, wavy, falling over her shoulders like she’d just been fucked.