The Bengaluru sun was higher now, streaming golden through the penthouse windows and warming the tangled sheets where Swati still straddled Anurag’s hips. Her glasses had slipped down her nose again, cheeks flushed a deep crimson as she caught her breath from riding him—slow and tentative at first, then bolder, her small hands braced on his chest while she rolled her hips in inexperienced circles that had driven him wild. She was still clenching around his softening cock, their combined release slick between her thighs, when the question slipped out in that soft, hesitant whisper she couldn’t quite hold back.

“Anurag… can I ask you something?” Swati bit her lower lip, eyes darting away as she traced a shy finger over the dark hair dusting his chest. “About… your past. The women before me. I know this is just one night—well, one morning now—but I keep thinking… you’re so confident. So… experienced. How many? What were they like?”