Stolen Moments with Project manager

### Stolen Moments

In the gleaming glass towers of Hyderabad's HITEC City, 34-year-old Ananya worked as a senior project manager at a top IT firm. Married to Vivek for eight years, their life was comfortable—weekend getaways, a spacious flat in Gachibowli—but the spark had faded. Vivek's long hours as a banker left Ananya feeling lonely, unappreciated, and craving the excitement she'd once known.

That's where Karan came in. He was 31, a charismatic lead developer on her team—tall, with a disarming smile, sharp wit, and eyes that lingered on her a second too long during meetings. Their professional banter had turned flirty over late-night project calls, then personal. Coffee breaks became excuses to talk about everything except work. One rainy evening, stuck in the office after everyone left, the tension snapped.

The conference room was dimly lit, rain lashing the windows. Ananya leaned over Karan's laptop, her kurti brushing his arm. "This code looks good," she said softly, but her eyes said something else.

Karan turned to her, closing the laptop. "Ananya... we've been dancing around this for months."

She bit her lip, heart pounding. "I know. I'm married, Karan. This is wrong."

"But you want it," he whispered, standing closer. "I see it every time you look at me."

Ananya didn't pull away when his hand cupped her cheek. Their kiss was urgent—years of restraint unleashing in a flood. She tasted coffee on his tongue, felt the strength in his arms as he pulled her against him.

"We can't... not here," she gasped, even as her fingers clutched his shirt.

"My place is ten minutes away," he murmured against her neck. "Come with me."

She should have said no. Instead, she nodded.

Karan's apartment in Madhapur was modern and minimal. The door barely closed before they were on each other—kissing fiercely in the hallway, clothes shedding as they stumbled to the bedroom.

"You're so beautiful," Karan breathed, unbuttoning her kurti slowly, kissing every inch of exposed skin. Ananya's bra fell away, and he took his time—mouth on her breasts, teasing nipples until she moaned.

"No one's touched me like this in so long," she confessed, arching into him.

He slid her leggings down, fingers tracing her thighs. "I want to make you feel everything you've been missing."

Ananya lay back on his bed, watching him undress—his lean, toned body making her ache. When he settled between her legs, kissing her inner thighs, she trembled.

"Karan... please."

His tongue found her center, slow and deliberate—circling her clit, dipping inside. Ananya's hands fisted the sheets. Vivek never did this, never took the time. Pleasure built fast, overwhelming.

"Oh God... don't stop," she begged.

He didn't. Fingers joined his mouth, curling perfectly until she came hard—body shaking, crying out his name as waves crashed through her.

Karan moved up, kissing her deeply so she tasted herself. "I need you," he groaned, positioning himself.

"Yes... now," she whispered.

He entered her slowly, filling her completely. They moved together—deep, rhythmic thrusts that had her wrapping her legs around him.

"You feel incredible," he panted, pace quickening.

Ananya met every thrust, nails digging into his back. "Harder... make me forget everything else."

He obliged, flipping her onto her stomach, taking her from behind. The angle hit perfectly—she came again, clenching around him, muffling her screams in the pillow.

Karan followed soon after, pulling out to spill across her back with a guttural moan.

They lay tangled afterward, breathing heavy. Guilt crept in slowly, but so did satisfaction.

"This was..." Ananya started.

"Amazing," Karan finished, kissing her shoulder. "And it's not just once, is it?"

She turned to face him, tracing his jaw. "I don't know what this is. But I needed it. Needed you."

He pulled her closer. "Whenever you want me, I'm here. No pressure. Just... us."

Over the next months, their affair became a secret rhythm—stolen lunch hours in hotel rooms, late "meetings" that ended in passion, quickies in the office parking garage. Each time, Karan worshipped her body, making her come multiple times, whispering how desirable she was.

Ananya felt alive again—guilty, yes, but undeniably awakened. She didn't know where it would lead, but for now, these stolen moments with Karan were exactly what she'd been craving.

As she dressed to leave that first night, he kissed her softly at the door. "Text me when you get home safe."

She smiled, heart racing. "I will."

Driving back to her empty flat, Ananya touched her lips, still tasting him. Whatever tomorrow brought, tonight she felt wanted—truly, deeply wanted—for the first time in years.