The Knock
The Knock That Changed Everything
by MASTRAMM | SpicyRaaz Confession
It started with a knock.
The kind of knock that doesn’t wait. That doesn’t ask permission. It echoes through the silence of the room, loud and commanding, but not desperate. I froze. It was past midnight, the lights were low, and the wine on the table had barely been touched.
I wasn’t expecting anyone. But something about that knock… made my skin tingle.
I opened the door — slowly — and there he was. Soaked from the light drizzle outside, his white linen shirt clung to his body like a second skin. His eyes didn’t ask for permission. They demanded attention. They searched mine, then drifted… slowly… down.
“Rhea,” he said. My name. Just that. Like he owned it.
I stepped aside. He entered. And with that, my night — no, my entire life — changed.
The Electricity Between Us
He wasn’t a stranger. Not entirely. He lived two floors above. We’d shared glances, elevator silences, maybe once a smile when the lift stalled. But we had never touched. Never spoken. Until now.
Now, he stood close — too close — the air thick between us. I could smell the rain on his shirt… and something else. A musky, warm scent that wrapped around me like an invisible thread. Was that perfume? It smelled sinful.
“You left your door slightly open,” he lied. We both knew it. But I let it slide. My eyes didn’t care about his story. They cared about the drop of water rolling down his neck… into the collarbone… down further.
My breath hitched. My body answered before my mind did.
I leaned in, whispering, “And now?”
His lips brushed my ear, “Now… I lock it.”
The Room Went Dark
And with a click, the door shut behind us. The room felt smaller, hotter. My skin buzzed, hypersensitive. His fingers traced a path across my arm, barely touching, but every cell in me screamed at the contact.
He took his time. Every glance, every breath, deliberate. Like he was reading a script written just for us. I wanted more. I didn’t want to wait.
Clothes were suggestions. They fell. My back met the cold wall. His lips met the curve of my neck. My moan was soft — not out of modesty, but because it was the only sound I could manage.
The night stretched long and wild. The rain turned to thunder. And still… we kept discovering each other like we were pages of a forgotten book.
And Then...
The knock returned. But this time — it came from inside me. A need. A hunger. A question I wasn’t ready to ask… but my body already answered.
What happens when one night isn’t enough?
What happens when you realize the knock was never outside… it was inside you all along?
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