#thighriding

The smell inside the great hall was so intense—cloying with the scent of expensive jasmine, heavy oud, and the underlying metallic tang of the power gathered under one roof.

It was a wedding of alliances, not love, and as the daughter of a man whose signature could move borders, you were more of an ornament than a guest.

​You retreated to the edge of the balcony, clutching a glass of sparkling water like a shield. Your heels clicked softly against the marble, a timid sound drowned out by the roar of laughter from the inner hall.

All night you had tried to catch your breath- you needed fresh air- desperately. You were used to huge parties, my- you usually attend festives twice as big as this one but..for some reason- you felt uneasy.

Wherever you stepped in this huge, well decorated and beautiful scenery- you felt like you had to flee- run off- get out of here..

Outside on the balcony- the air was fresh, welcoming you with a chilling hug that made you let out a relieved, relaxed sigh..

​Then, the temperature of the air seemed to shift ever so slightly again-

​It started as a prickle at the base of your neck. You looked toward the center of the room, past the flower arrangements, and saw Rehman Dakait..

He was familar, very much so, since you had seen him more often than you would have liked to- speaking of buiness with your Father behind closed wooden doors or bringing way to expensive gifts to your Birthdays- gifts not even a real relative would be generous enough for.

He couldn't be the reason why your body screamed for you to run away..no.

As you kept watching him, he was laughing, his hand resting on the shoulder of a man you hadn’t seen before.

​The stranger was tall—towering, really—with a frame that seemed to absorb the light around him. He wasn't laughing. While Rehman commanded the room with noise, this man commanded it with silence and his eyes, dark and predatory, weren't on the bride or the groom-

​They were fixed directly on you while the slightest hint of a smile displayed on his lips.

​You looked away quickly, your heart hammering against your ribs. His gaze felt like a physical hand on your shoulder- for a woman like you, always shielded from intense gazes or inappropriate conversations, it felt like he tried burning holes into your Lehenga with his eyes.

It was him- the reason of your heartbeat increased- the reason why you needed to get outside and take a break from his gaze

When you risked a second glance, he was closer. He hadn't walked; he had drifted, cutting through the crowd like a blade through silk.

​He leaned down to whisper something to Rehman, his eyes never leaving yours. Rehman glanced over, gave a knowing, jagged grin, and patted the man’s arm before turning back to a group of men to discuss.. who knows what..

​The stranger began to walk toward the balcony-

​Every instinct told you to run back to your father, but your feet felt rooted to the stone. As he stepped out of the light of the hall and into the shadows of the terrace, the sheer scale of him became terrifyingly clear..

​"The air is cleaner out here," he said. His voice was a low, gravelly hum that vibrated in your chest. "But you look like you’re trying to disappear, jaan."

​You gripped your glass tighter, your knuckles turning white. "I just... I don't like crowds."

​"A shame," he murmured, stepping into your personal space. The scent of sandalwood and tobacco enveloped you. He was so close that the heat from his body felt like a fever. He looked down at you, his shadow completely swallowing your smaller frame. "Because a girl like you? You were made to be looked at."

The air between you became impossibly thin as he spoke, his voice dropping into a register so low it felt like a physical vibration against your skin.

​You felt your breath hitch, trapped in your lungs, as your back pressed firmly against the cold stone of the balcony railing. There was nowhere left to retreat. He stepped even closer, his large frame acting as a wall that shut out the music, the laughter, and the light of the wedding. In his shadow, the world felt private, dark, and dangerous..

Your head was tilted back at a sharp angle just to maintain eye contact, making you feel painfully small, painfully exposed. You tried to swallow, but your throat was dry. You could see the subtle pulse in his neck and the way his dark eyes tracked the frantic beat of the pulse in your own.

​You wanted to look away—to find safety in the floorboards—but the intensity of his gaze was like a hook. A traitorous heat began to spread from your chest down to your fingertips, a direct contradiction to the way your knees felt weak. You weren't just intimidated; you were hyper-aware of every inch of him: the breadth of his shoulders, scent of his unusually long, curly hair, his dark and intense eyes- and the fact that if he moved just two inches closer, your chests would touch any second.

You took a step back, forcing yourself to look away and break eyecontact.

,,I should go back inside..-" was all that you were able to say in this moment, causing him to give you an amused smile.

Hamza didn’t move away. Instead, he leaned down, his face hovering just inches from yours. He didn't touch you—not yet—but he let his hand rest on the railing right next to your waist, his arm a heavy barrier that boxed you in.

​"a shame.." he murmured, his breath ghosting over your lips, smelling of dark coffee and something dangerously masculine. "Is it because you’re afraid of me? Or because you’re afraid of how much you want to..actually stay right here Jaan?"

​He let his gaze drop slowly, lingering on your mouth with a heavy, deliberate hunger that made your stomach flip.

​"Rehman thinks I’m here for the business," he whispered, his voice a sandpaper caress. "But I haven't heard a word anyone has said since I saw you standing by the door. My mind has been... elsewhere. Occupied by the thought of how quiet you’d be if we weren't in a crowd.."

,,You dont even know my name- what do you-"

The challenge in your voice—small, breathless, but there—seemed to amuse him. It was the first spark of resistance he’d seen all night, and it only made the hunt more interesting.

​"I know the way your heart tries to jump out of your chest when I step into your space," he rumbled, his voice dropping into a dangerous, silken register. "I know the way you bite your lip when you think no one is watching. Names are for the people inside that hall, jaan. They care about titles. I care about the way you look like you’re about to shatter if I so much as breathe too hard against your skin.."

​The intensity was too much. Your breath hitched, and your gaze broke, sliding from his dark, searching eyes down to the sharp knot of his tie. You couldn't look at him anymore; the raw hunger in his expression made you feel like you were standing on the edge of a sheer cliff. You focused on the gold watch at his wrist, the heavy cufflinks—anything but the man himself.

​"Look at me," he commanded. It wasn't a shout; it was a low, velvet pull.

​You shook your head slightly, your chin dipping lower. The shyness felt like a physical weight now, heating your cheeks to a deep crimson. You felt his hand move—not to grab you, but to catch your chin between his thumb and forefinger. His touch was searing, his skin calloused and firm. He didn't force your head up; he simply waited, his thumb tracing the line of your jaw with agonizing slowness.

​"If you're going to remember a man who ruined your night," he whispered, his face so close you could feel the heat radiating from his skin, "at least remember his name."

​He waited until you finally, fearfully, flicked your eyes back up to his—a fleeting, wide-eyed contact that lasted only a second before your lashes fluttered shut again.

​"Hamza," he finished, your reaction making him smile ever so slightly again.

His hand didn't move- it was still caressing the edge of your jaw- his eyes not loosing focus on your trembling lips for a second.

His thumb continued its slow, torturous path along your jawline, tracing the curve of your bone as if he were memorizing a map. The roughness of his skin against your soft cheek was a contrast that made your toes curl inside your silk heels. You were still trapped between his towering frame and the cold marble, the silence of the terrace amplified by the distant, muffled bass of the wedding music.

​"Hamza," you whispered back, the name feeling heavy and foreign on your tongue.

​The sound of his name coming from your lips made his eyes darken, a flash of something primitive and satisfied crossing his features. He leaned in even closer, his chest now a mere hair’s breadth from yours. You could feel the solid, rhythmic thud of his heart—steady, unlike your own, which was frantic and shallow.

​The height difference felt more pronounced than ever. You felt like a small bird caught in a storm, tucked under the eaves of a massive, dark building. Every time you tried to lift your eyes to his, the sheer heat in his gaze forced them back down to the hollow of his throat.

​"You're so small," he murmured, his voice thick with a sudden, rough edge. He let his hand slide from your jaw to the nape of your neck, his fingers tangling slightly in your hair, holding you in place not with force, but with the sheer magnetism of his touch. "So delicate. I feel like if I squeezed just a little too hard, you’d simply vanish."

​He dipped his head, his lips hovering just a fraction of an inch from the sensitive skin below your ear. You let out a soft, involuntary shiver, your knees threatening to buckle. The scent of him—woodsmoke and pure, masculine heat—was making it impossible to think.

​"Look at me," he urged again, his thumb now pressing firmly into the soft skin behind your ear.

​You tried. You really did. You flicked your eyes up, catching the sharp, predatory curve of his brow, but the moment your gaze met those dark, bottomless pits of his eyes, you felt a jolt of pure electricity shoot down your spine. You gasped, your head dropping again, your forehead almost resting against the lapel of his blazer. You were shaking now—visible, rhythmic tremors that you couldn't suppress.

​Hamza let out a low, dark chuckle that vibrated right through you. He didn't let go. Instead, he used his other hand to grip the railing on the other side of you, effectively caging you in his arms without even a full embrace.

​"You’re trembling, and we haven’t even touched yet.. It makes me wonder... if I finally reach out and take what I’ve been staring at all night, will you break? Or will you finally be able to look me in the eye, jaan?"

​He paused, his breath hot against your skin, waiting for an answer you were too breathless to give.

​"I think," he continued, his voice dangerously low, "I'd like to find out which one it is."

Hamza’s gaze broke from yours for a fraction of a second, but the pressure of his hand at the nape of your neck didn't waver. He looked over his shoulder, his eyes sweeping the balcony and the glass doors leading back to the gala with the cold, calculated precision of a man checking for witnesses.

​The party roared on behind the glass—a sea of gold, silk, and false smiles—but out here, in the shadows he created, none of that mattered. Satisfied that Rehman and your father’s associates were sufficiently distracted by their champagne and politics, he turned back to you.

​"Come," he commanded. It wasn't a request.

​He didn't grab your hand. Instead, he placed his palm firmly against the small of your back, his touch heavy and possessive, guiding you away from the railing. You should have stayed. You should have turned back toward the light, toward the safety of the crowd and the people who knew your name. But as he began to walk, his long strides forcing you to move quickly to keep up, you found your feet moving in perfect synchronization with his.

​It was as if he had cast an invisible tether around you. Every time your arm brushed against the fine wool of his sleeve, a fresh wave of heat rolled through you. You felt like a moth being drawn toward a dark, beautiful flame, fully aware of the danger but unable to turn away.

​He led you through a side door, away from the main ballroom and toward a wide, dimly lit staircase. As you climbed, the thumping bass of the music began to muffle, replaced by the rhythmic clack of your heels and the heavy, steady footfalls of the man beside you.

​The higher you went, the thinner the air seemed to become. The upstairs corridor was lined with heavy oak doors and lit by flickering sconces that threw long, dancing shadows against the walls. Here, the scent of the wedding flowers was gone, replaced by the scent of old wood and the overwhelming, spicy aroma of Hamza’s cologne.

​He stopped in front of a heavy door at the very end of the hall, where the music was nothing more than a faint heartbeat beneath the floorboards.

​"Why am I doing this?" you whispered, the question finally breaking through the haze of your shyness. You were looking at his chest, at the way his breathing remained perfectly calm while yours was a jagged mess.

​Hamza didn't answer immediately. He reached out, his large hand wrapping around the brass handle of the door, but he didn't turn it yet. He looked down at you, his eyes hooded and dark, reflecting the dim amber light of the hallway.

​"Because you've been bored your entire life," he said, his voice a low, gravelly truth that made your heart ache. "And because you know that tonight, for the first time, someone is looking at you and seeing exactly what's hidden under all that silence."

​He leaned down, his face inches from yours, his height making the ceiling feel like it was closing in. "And because I haven't let go of you yet. And you haven't asked me to."

​With a slow, deliberate click, he turned the handle and pushed the door open into the darkness of the room beyond.

The door clicked shut behind you, the sound final and heavy, severing the last thread of connection to the world downstairs. Hamza reached out, his fingers brushing the wall until he found the switch.

A soft, warm amber glow flooded the room, revealing a sprawling master suite—expensive furniture, heavy velvet drapes, and a wide, expansive bed that seemed to dominate the space.

​The silence here was absolute, save for the frantic sound of your own breathing.

​Hamza didn't move toward the bed. He stayed by the door, his towering frame nearly reaching the top of the frame. He watched you with a quiet, hungry curiosity, his hands shoved casually into his pockets, though the tension in his shoulders told a different story.

​"You're bolder when there's no one watching," he observed, his voice a low rumble that seemed to bounce off the walls.

​You took a small, tentative step further into the room, your fingers tracing the edge of a polished vanity. "Maybe I'm just curious," you whispered, finally finding the courage to look at him for more than a second. Up close, under the steady light, he was even more striking—the sharp angles of his face, framed by this wild looking beard.. the slight scar near his temple, the way his dark hair was perfectly styled despite the wind on the terrace.

"Why me? There were hundreds of women down there. Women who... who know how to talk to men like you."

​"Men like me?" He took a slow step forward, and you instinctively backed up until your calves hit the edge of the bed frame.

He didn't stop until he was directly in your space again, forcing you to crane your neck back. "And what kind of man do you think I am?"

​"khataranaak ho..." you breathed, the word coming out as a confession. " aur adhiir ho.."

​"jab puraskaar iintajaar ke laayak hota hai to maiin bahut dhairy rakhata huuin" he countered. He reached out, his hand hovering near your waist, not quite touching but close enough that you could feel the heat radiating through your Lehenga.

"aur jab se maine us parityakt ghar mein kadam rakha hai, tab se keval aap hii dekhane laayak haiin. tum ek rahasy kii tarah lag rahe ho maiin baakii raat ko ujaagar karana chaahata huuin."

​As he shifted closer, his blazer pulled back slightly, and that’s when you saw it..

​Tucked into a leather holster against his ribs was the cold, matte-black grip of a handgun. The sight of it sent a jolt of pure, icy fear through your veins. Your breath hitched, and you recoiled, your eyes wide as you stared at the weapon. The reality of who—and what—he was crashed down on you.

​"You're... you have a..."

Your voice failed you, your hands trembling as you clutched the silk of your skirts.

​Hamza didn't flinch. He didn't try to hide it. Instead, his eyes turned into something darker, more intense. He saw your fear, and instead of backing off, he used it to draw the circle tighter.

​"Does it scare you?" he asked, his voice dropping to a velvet whisper. He reached up, slowly unbuttoning his jacket and shucking it off, tossing it onto a nearby chair.

Now, in just his crisp white dress shirt, the holster was fully visible—a stark, violent contrast to the luxury of the room.

​"I... I've never been this close to one," you admitted, your voice small.

​Hamza took your hand. His grip was firm, his skin searingly hot against your cold fingers. He didn't lead your hand to his face or his chest. Instead, he guided your trembling fingers toward his side.

​"Don't be afraid of the metal," he murmured, his breath hot against your forehead as he loomed over you. "It’s just a tool. It only does what I tell it to do."

​He stopped your hand just inches from the weapon. You could feel the heat of his body through the thin cotton of his shirt, the solid muscle of his ribs beneath your knuckles.

​"Touch it," he commanded softly.

​"Hamza, I can't—"

​"Touch it," he repeated, his thumb stroking the back of your hand, grounding you. "Feel how cold it is. And then feel how hot I am. Tell me which one you’re really afraid of."

​Your heart was drumming a frantic rhythm against your ribs as you finally let your fingertips graze the cold, textured grip. It was freezing, a heavy weight that represented everything dangerous about the world he lived in.

But as your hand rested there, so close to his heart, the fear began to morph into something else—a dizzying, high-stakes adrenaline that made your head light.

​He leaned down, his lips brushing against the pulse point at your neck. "There," he hissed, his voice thick with approval. "See? You’re not breaking. You’re waking up."

His hand stayed over yours, guiding your fingers to wrap fully around the cold grip. With a click that sounded like a gunshot in the silent room, he disarmed the holster. The weight of the weapon was shocking in your small palm—heavy, dense, and unapologetically lethal.

​But he didn’t pull away. He took your wrist, his fingers like a scorched iron cuff, and moved your hand—and the gun—upwards until it was pressed flat against the center of his chest, right over his heart.

​"Hold it there," he rasped.

​The cold metal was now sandwiched between your palm and the thundering heat of his body. Through the thin fabric of his shirt, you could feel the violent, steady beat of his heart. It was fast—just as fast as yours. The realization hit you like a wave; this man, this giant who seemed so composed, was just as affected by the proximity as you were.

​"You’re holding my life in your hand now," he murmured, stepping into the final inch of space between you. Your breasts brushed against his chest, the gun the only thing separating your heart from his..

​Something shifted inside you.

​Slowly, deliberately, you tilted your head back. For the first time, you didn't just glance at him; you met his dark, predatory eyes with a steady gaze of your own.

​The air in the room seemed to ignite. Up close, his eyes weren't just dark—they were an obsidian storm, reflecting nothing but your own wide-eyed reflection. You saw the hunger there, the absolute focus, and the flicker of genuine surprise that you were finally staring back.

​"I’m not afraid of the metal, Hamza," you whispered, your voice steadier than it had been all night. You pressed the gun harder into his chest, feeling the muscle beneath it jump in response. "And I’m not afraid of the man holding it."

​A low, guttural sound escaped his throat—half-growl, half-chuckle.

His hand left your wrist and moved to your waist, his large fingers splaying across the small of your back and pulling you flush against him. The height difference meant your face was perfectly aligned with his throat, but you didn't hide. You kept your chin up, your eyes locked onto his, refusing to be the first to blink.

​"There she is," he breathed, his voice a rough, prideful velvet. "I knew you were hiding in there. All that silence, just waiting for the right hand to break it."

​He leaned down, his nose brushing against yours, his gaze dropping to your lips and then snapping back to your eyes-

He didn't take his eyes off yours as his hand slid over yours, his large fingers prying the weapon from your grip with a slow, deliberate grace. The weight vanished from your hand, but the tension only doubled.

​With a swift, fluid motion, he didn't put the gun away. Instead, he brought the cool, flat side of the barrel up, resting it against the top of your chest, just above the neckline of your dress. The contrast was electric—the biting chill of the steel against your overheated skin.

​"My turn," he hummed, the sound vibrating through the metal and into your bones.

​Before you could gasp, he placed his other hand on your hip and firmly spun you around. Your back hit his chest, your smaller frame completely eclipsed by his height and breadth.

He pressed you back against him, his arm wrapping around you like a band of iron, while the hand holding the gun stayed resting against your collarbone, marking you.

​He dipped his head, his face disappearing into the crook of your neck. "You've been so brave," he whispered against your skin, his lips grazing the sensitive cord of your throat.

​He began to kiss a slow, searing path from your ear down to your shoulder. Each press of his lips was heavy and purposeful, marking you as his own while the cool metal of the gun acted as a constant, grounding reminder of the danger you were dancing with.

You arched your neck, your eyes fluttering shut as a low moan caught in your throat. You felt small, protected, and utterly possessed all at once.

​"Hamza..." you breathed, your hands reaching back to grip his forearms, feeling the hard, coiled muscle beneath his sleeves.

​"I've got you," he rasped.

​He turned you again, this time with a frantic sort of hunger. He put the gun aside for now-

His hands came up to frame your face, his thumbs wiping the flush on your cheeks. He looked at you with an intensity that made your knees turn to water, his shadow looming over you in the amber light.

​"Look at me," he commanded softly, and you did. You met his gaze, wide-eyed and wanting.

​He leaned down, bridging the final gap with agonizing slowness, giving you every second to run. But you didn't. When his lips finally met yours, it wasn't a gentle brush; it was an invitation to a storm.

​The kiss was deep and demanding, a collision of his raw power and your burgeoning desire. He guided you through it, his tongue tracing the seam of your lips until you opened for him, a soft whimper escaping you.

He tasted of dark honey and salt, his hands sliding down to your waist to hoist you up, forcing you to stand on your tiptoes just to keep the contact.

​He was teaching you how to want him, his movements slow and rhythmic, pulling you into his pace until the rest of the world—the wedding, your father, the danger—ceased to exist the only thing that existed right now was him- and this feeling deep inside you. Arousal.

While the kiss had you basically on cloud nine already, Hamza moved towards the bet, sitting down on it- not breaking the kiss while his hands traveled lower to your hips, grabbing them firmly.

As you finally pulled back- out of breath and with cheeks matching the red curtains in the bedroom- he slowly eyed you.

You could swear you've seen him think for a second- just ever so faintly- as you watched your breath.

,,..Take this off for me.."

His voice interupted your own thoughts in a demanding, low voice that surprised you.

,,Take it off..? what- do you mean-"

Before you could finish your sentence, he had to gun back in his right hand, tilting the weapon toward the Skirt of your Lehenga.

,,Its only gonna be in the way..meri jaan"

He smirked at you, his head tilting lightly as he watched your shocked reaction. The fact that he had brought you so far- it made him confident he could make you do anything for him.....good.

His free hand lightly grazed over the fabric of his pants, slowly patting his thigh while his eyes never left your face.

You realised with a soft gasp- he wanted you to..take off your clothes and sit on his thigh..

A rush of pure shock and excitement jolted though your body- the thought alone- it was enough to make your knees weak.

You gave into those primal feelings- too curious- no..way too turned on to not do as he demanded.

With a gracefully move of your hands and some light tugging, the skirt of your lehenga hit the floor- fabric so heavy it made a soft thud sound as it dropped to the floor.

You must have your damn mind..showing yourself like this- to a total stranger! But..

It was too late.. was it not? there was no way you could escape him now anymore..and you didn't even want to anyway.

A growl escaped his lips, a low and dangerous sound.

He moved the gun, patting his thigh with it as he watched you move towards him- then stopped you.

,,These too.." he breathed, looking up to you as he lightly pushed the cold metal of the weapon under the rim of your underwear, lightly playing with it before letting it snap back against your skin.

,,I want to feel your pussy pressed right against my thigh.."

Your breath got stuck in your throat- no man ever dared to speak this way to you..and my- was it impactful.

You slowly pulled off your underwear, dropping it on the floor stepping out of it as you approached him further.

He looked more than pleased- he looked like he wanted to eat you up- reaching his free hand to gently pull you in, making you sit down on his thigh.

He gasped out- feeling his muscles tighten as he pressed you onto him, then gun still in his other hand and slowly trailing down from your stomach to your pussy.

,,Beautiful.." he breathed out, leaning in close enough for you to feel his breath brush against your face again ,,and so wet already.."

The gun dropped from his fingers finally- it had served its purpose- as his big warm hands wrapped around your hips, guiding them slowly, making you grind against his thigh.

,,Hamza- ahh-" you moaned out softly, letting him take control over your body and mind. It felt dangerously good- your pussy grinding down on his thigh, his muscle lightly twitching at the impact- your clit jumped- your breath hitched.

,,Good..keep grinding like that meri jaan.. fuck yourself on my thigh.."

He encouraged you, his voice deep and growly- but yet- soft- like he wanted to reassure you its okay.

He showed you just how to move- how to push your hips forward and grind down on his lap patiently, holding you save in place.

You moved your hips forwards, grinding against him with another moan. ,,Yes- like this- nice and slow.." he groaned, his fingers gently tugging into your skin.

His pants got stained quickly from your juices, a dark wet spot that got bigger with each thrust of your hips- what a wonderful way to ruin a new pair of pants..

,,Go a bit faster now..dont be shy.. Ive got you.."

He leaned in more, resting his forhead against yours- the air between you two way to thin to breathe properly..but you didn't need air right now anyway..just him.

,,haan..ahh~" you leaned right into him, your nose brushing against his as you moved your hips faster, gliding up and down his thighs more needy- your hips rolling against him like you're in a trance.

faster.. again he guided you, moving his leg lightly which made you moan out loudly.

With each movement you teased yourself- your clit was fully stimulated, pressed and rubbed against his thigh- while him shifting his leg or simply flexing his muscle made her jump and pulse even more.

His hands around your hips slowly slipped to your ass, lightly squeezing before the grip got firmer and he started to move you, harder, pushing you down against him to make it even more intense for you..

he loved having you pushed against his body, enjoying your moans against his face- how you now desperately held onto the back of his head- your small fingers grabbing onto his long, luscious hair.

,,Thats it, just like that..make yourself cum on me.." he groaned, his lips crashing against yours again in an hungry, demanding kiss.

You moaned against his lips, biting them in a playful way while you felt self control slipping away- so good- the sensation, the air around you that felt like it's on fire, it brought tears to your eyes as you got close

By now you were bouncing on his leg- chasing the feeling that made you forget everything- the wedding- the fact you shouldn't even have talked to this man- a stranger, that so very easily captured you and melted you in his hands like ice..

You pulled away from the kiss as your orgasm shaked you through your core- it was a raw and overwhelming storm of feelings taking over your body and mind- Hamza flexed his muscle against your pussy- forcing the filthiest sounds out of your pretty mouth.

,,Oh fuck- yes fuck-!" You threw your head back, gasping and moaning while lightly circling your hips against his thigh still- unable to stop yet, riding out your orgasm fully.

,,Fuck look at you...that's exactly the girl I've seen all day...hiding behind this shy facade.." he groaned, closing the space you created by leaning your head back with crashing his lips against the skin of your throat, kissing over it feverishly while your fingers played with his long curls.

Your breath slowly calmed down, and you were finally able to face him again, gulping softly.

The eyecontact was intense, so many unsaid things screamed through them as you looked at each other for what felt like an eternity- and a smile formed on your lips as your hand traveled from his head to his face, lightly ans playfully tugging and his beard before caressing his face.

,,You did so well Jaan.."

His voice praised you, low...but softer than before- almost affectionate.

He gave you a smile, gently tugging some of your by now wild hair behind your ear, then pressed a kiss against your lips

,,Get dressed..the wedding is over soon. But don't worry..I know exactly where to find you..just leave your window open."

He smirked at you- an expression that you liked very much by now..

,,Are you going to kidnap me?" - "would you like that?" You had to chuckle. You would like it for sure.

,,Go on," he murmured, his voice a low, gravelly caress. "Go back to your father’s side. Play the shy, dutiful daughter for just a little longer."

The cool silk of your skirt felt like a foreign skin as you smoothed it down, your fingers still tingling from the weight of his hands..

​You paused at the door, your hand on the brass handle. For the first time all night, you didn't look down. You looked back at him, your lips swollen and your eyes bright with a fire you hadn't known you possessed.

​"And when will I see you again, Hamza?"

​"I told you," he said, leaning back a bit. ,,zi know where to find you..i won't let you wait long for me meri jaan.."

​reassured and with a smile you slipped out of the room.

As you walked back down the long corridor, the muffled music from downstairs began to swell, but it didn't feel oppressive anymore. You felt electrified.

Your heart was still racing, not from fear, but from the delicious, illicit thrill of what had just transpired.

You smoothed your hair, tucked your chin, and re-entered the ballroom—appearing to the world as the same shy girl, while inside, you were screaming with the excitement of a woman who had finally been seen.

​The heavy oak door clicked shut, sealing the room in amber-lit silence.

​The moment the latch engaged, the warmth vanished from Hamza’s expression. The smirk that had seemed so genuine, so heated, didn't just fade—it died..slowly but surely.

So far so good.. his calculated glances worked..the first step was done..

“Miiike.” You whined, leaning into him while he played his guitar. “c’mon, baby, why don’t we go do something? You’ve been in here all day.” 

“Just five more minutes.” He muttered without looking up. 

“You said that an hour ago.” You pouted, huffing when he ignored you. 

Desperate for attention, you slunk off into the bedroom and peeled off all your clothes, throwing them across the room. 

“Can’t even look up from your guitar when you’re talking to me?” You grumbled to yourself, swiping his hat off the top of the dresser on your way back out, “I’ll give you something to look at.” 

He heard you come in, but again, Mike kept his gaze fixed on the instrument in his hands. 

“Five more minutes.” 

“Oh, don’t worry, baby.” You smiled sweetly, sitting on the other end of the couch. Your back was up against the armrest, legs stretched out across the couch, bent at the knee, and wide open for him.  “Take your time. Don’t you worry about it.” 

Mike nodded, but then processed your words, and his brows pulled together.

You’d been badgering him all day, and all of a sudden, you were fine? 

He glanced over at you, and his eyes bulged. The music immediately stopped. 

There you were, staring back at him through hooded eyes under the brim of his cowboy hat, which just so happened to be the only thing you were wearing. 

One of your hands was between your thighs, rubbing slow circles over your clit. He had a great view too, you’d made sure of it. 

His breathing immediately deepened. Without looking away from you, Mike set his guitar on the stand and sat back in his seat, licking his lips. 

“Whatcha doin’?” He rasped, struggling not to lunge across the couch and start grabbing at you. 

“Just waiting to see what I’ve gotta do to get your attention.” You shrugged, but it came out breathy. “Seems like I’ve got it now, though. Don’t I?” 

“Yes, you do.” Mike muttered, able to feel his dick straining against the confines of his jeans. 

You eased a finger into your dripping cunt, staring right at him while he watched, mesmerized by you. 

“You’d rather play your guitar than pay attention to me?” You pouted, exhaling shakily as your finger slid in past the second knuckle “That’s not very nice, Mikey.” 

He shook his head, running a hand through his hair. 

“No, baby.” he breathed “you know I can get carried away sometimes. I was just practicing.”

“You’re getting carried away a whole lot lately.” You whined, working a second finger into your cunt “I miss you.” 

“I’m right here, angel.” Mike brushed his fingertips over your shin “c’mere.”

The corners of your lips curled into a smirk and you were quick to crawl into his lap, stradling him. 

He gently took your wrist and guided your fingers to his mouth, holding your gaze as he sucked your juices off of them.

A low moan slipped through your lips as you shuddered. The feeling of his rough jeans against your bare pussy was doing thing to you. 

His hands came to rest on your hips, rough and calloused from years of playing his beloved instrument. They trailed up your sides, ghosting over your tits on their way up to cradle your face.

You rested your hands on his shoulders. 

“You miss me?” Those blue eyes gazed up at you lovingly, alway in slight disbelief that someone so beautiful wanted him around badly enough to miss him while being in the same room. 

With your bottom lip trapped between your teeth, you nodded. 

Mike pulled your lips to his and kissed you softly. Then again harder. 

You melted into him, lowering his hands from your face and guiding them to your tits. He palmed them, kneading the skin as his tongue slipped into your mouth. A happy sigh fell from your lips and he swallowed it, letting one hand travel down your side to grab your ass. 

You rolled your hips and hissed, his bulge beneath the denim pressed up against your cunt, offering almost too much friction. Mike groaned, and dug his fingers into your hips, guiding them to rock against him again. 

“Mikeyyy” A low whine escaped your throat as yout fingers threaded through his hair, tugging at the roots in a way that you knew drove him wild. 

“Yeah, baby?” He muttered into your mouth. 

“Need you to touch me.” you gasped, quickly growing overstimulated from the harsh fabric. “Please?” 

He squeezed his eyes shut and groaned. Nothing got him going like you begging him to touch you. It made him feel so useful. So needed and desired. 

“You want me to touch you?” Mike pulled away to look up at you and the desperate look in your eyes as you nodded immediately. “Yeah? Where? Where do you want me to touch you?” 

You were quick to shift further down his legs and yank one of his hands between your legs, presenting yourself to him, panting. 

He cupped you in his hand, but didn’t move it, watching you intently. You could feel the cool metal of his rings pressed up against your throbbing cunt.

“Please?” You whimpered, pupils blown with lust “I need you, baby.” 

He watched you squirming in his lap for a moment before running a finger down your slit. You jolted, arms shaking as you cried out, hands clamped around his knees. You were so sensitive from his jeans rubbing you raw, but his rings helped soothe the sting. 

Your back arched and for a second, he wasn’t sure you’d be able to keep yourself upright, but you did. 

Mike let one arm rest on your back to keep you from falling and teased your dripping hole with his finger while you writhed in his arms, a whimpering, begging mess. 

“Fuck, Angel, you’re so wet.” he groaned, resting his forehead against your chest in an attempt to try and compose himself. “Killin’ me here, baby.” 

“That’s all for you.” You panted, “shit, please Mikey, more.” 

By the time he’d built up a slow rhythm and worked a second finger inside of your sopping cunt, you were convulsing in his arms, clamped down around his fingers while his name fell from your lips like a prayer. 

Feeling you cum around his fingers always made the tip of his cock weep. It was the hottest thing you could do, especially while wearing his hat. 

You slumped over into his arms, breathing raggedly as you came down from your high, and whimpered when he pulled his fingers out of your cunt, leaving you feeling empty. 

Before you had time to dwell, Mike scooped you up and stood. You gasped and grabbed onto his shoulders, fingers digging into firm muscle. 

“I’m not gonna drop you.” He muttered into your hair and kissed the side of your head sweetly. “I’d never drop you.” 

There was only one place he could be taking you, and the thought had your walls clenching around nothing. You couldn't help but kiss his neck; it was right there, at mouth level, and you had great access. His hat kept getting in the way, so you took it off your head and put it on his to make room for your greedy mouth.

His grip around you tightened as he felt your tongue swipe over the skin, followed by sloppy, open-mouthed kisses to the side of his throat.

You could feel him swallow hard. 

Mike all but threw you onto the bed once he’d made it to the end of the hallway. 

You bounced once and let out a breathless giggle as your hair fanned out around the pillow. 

By the time you looked up at him, he’d already shrugged off his shirt, tossed his hat back on the dresser and was fumbling with his belt buckle.

He stood over you once he’d undressed completely, gazing down at you with clear hunger in his eyes. The laughter died in your throat as need took over. 

Mike was quick to crawl into bed with you, crashing his lips to yours the second you were within arm's reach. He pulled your body flush against him, shuddering at the sudden skin-on-skin contact. 

You could feel his length digging into your hip, dripping precum, and wrapped your leg around his waist in an attempt to line it up with your aching cunt. 

“You want it that bad, Angel?” He breathed into your mouth, grabbing a handfull of ass. 

“Mhmm,” You hummed breathily, “I need you, baby. Need you to fuck me so bad.” 

“Please-” You started whining, but had the breath knocked out of you when he lined himself up and burried himself all the way inside you in one thrust. 

“Oh, god.” He groaned “fuck, that feels so fucking good.”

“You okay, baby?” Mike fought to stay still until you nodded, burying your face in the crook of his neck. “Taking me so good. Fuck.” 

You whimpered at the praise, winding the fingers of one hand through his hair while the other clung to his shoulder. 

Slowly, he withdrew, inch by inch, before sinking back down into you, drawing a low moan as you adjusted. 

Once he knew he wouldn’t hurt you, he picked up the pace until he was slamming into you. Your head fell back and all that could be heard in the room was Mike’s breathy grunts and groans, the lewd sound of your soaked cunt and the whines and mewls escaping your throat. 

You could feel the cord deep in your belly going taught and knew he was getting close too when his hips started bucking at a sloppy pace and he started muttering curse words under his breath. 

“You gonna cum for me, Angel?” His breathing was ragged as he rut into you. 

You were quick to nod, clinging to him as you came crashing over the edge, crying out loudly. 

“Fuck-” He grunted, “That’s it baby- Shit.” 

“I love you.” You pulled him along with you barely able to hear his words over the blood rushing through your ears “Fuck- I fucking love you-” 

Mike allowed himself a few more lazy thrusts as he came down, pumping you full of cum. 

Still buried inside you, he pulled you into his chest and rolled onto his side, pressing his lips to the crown of your head. 

"That enough attention for you?" He smiled tiredly.

"Never."

It started with little things — a lingering touch on Hot Pants’ shoulder, the brush of your thigh against hers around the fire at night, her fingers grazing yours whilst you packed your supplies for the day’s journey. On your end, there were lingering gazes and moments spent too long imaging what her plush lips would feel like against yours, or how good her husky voice would sound if it was crying out your name.

But, you knew it was only a fantasy. HP was a nun - though she’d told you she wasn’t devout, you still weren’t going to risk crossing her boundaries. Finding someone trustworthy was a feat in itself during the Steel Ball Run, and you weren’t going to risk losing yours over something as trivial as a crush.

As the race went on, though, so did your capacity for holding yourself back. Days turned into weeks as you and Hot Pants traveled across America, forging a close camaraderie that could only be found during extreme situations like the one the two of you were taking part in.

You took advantage of that closeness in ways that made you feel guilty - but not guilty enough to stop your behavior. The little things turned into big things, like washing yourself in the creek together and sharing a bed roll at night. The way HP trusted you so easily started to creep into the depths of your mind, your dark thoughts spurned on by the lack of proper care given to your body during the race. (And not just basic needs - but emotional and physical, too.) Perhaps you were lying to yourself when you chalked off your thoughts as something only happening due to your circumstances, but still...

You wanted Hot Pants. You wanted her on her back crying out your name, on her knees while she worshiped you. You wanted to see her break, to come undone - to want you so much that she’d disregard the things she’d pledged to God. It was wrong and it was disgusting but it’s all you could think about at night when she was asleep next to you, your hand working itself silently against your lower half.

You didn’t think you could hold yourself back any longer.

-

Hot Pants is sitting next to the fire when you approach her. She’s stripped down to a simple shirt and pants, having hung her usual outer clothing up to dry. Her hat sits beside her, discarded as she stares into the campfire. HP really was beautiful - the flicker of the flames catches her deep hazel eyes and accentuates the curve of her face, angular in a way that made you think she belonged in paintings rather than to the Church. She lifts her head to look at you as you take a seat next to her, surprising you when she scoots slightly closer to close the gap.

Maybe things weren’t going to be as hard as you thought.

“How are you feeling?” You offer. It was best to start off normal - you didn’t want to spook her away, though you doubted that would happen in the first place. HP hums, eyes leaving your face to look back at the fire.

“Okay. I feel like we’re behind where we should be, but it’ll be better if we don’t push the horses or ourselves.” She pauses. “This early in the race, anyways.”

You agree by humming, choosing to let her continue whenever she was ready. Despite how strongly you felt for her, it really was easy just to sit in her presence and not feel like you had to hold a conversation. She was easy, in that way.

Finally, she speaks up. “And you?”

“Okay. I’m just lonely.” HP turns her gaze backs to you and raises an eyebrow.

“Are we not traveling together?” You sigh at her response, earning the quirk of her lip. “Really? That’s what you’re thinking about?”

Though anyone else would perhaps feel like she was taking a jab at them, you only felt elation at the fact that she would bring something of that nature up. It meant she was thinking something carnal too - or had considered it, at least.

“Oh, don’t act like you don’t have those thoughts either.” You chide, and Hot Pants rolls her eyes.

“Even If I did, I wouldn’t be able to act on them.” You swallow at her words and watch her take a sip of water, eyes darting to the way her tongue pokes out to swipe at her lips after. Fuck, you were really and truly gone for her.

“Well,” You start, looking to her for a reaction. When HP just stares at you, seemingly waiting for a response, you continue. “I can’t say I’m very versed in religion, but... couldn’t you just ask for forgiveness?”

Hot Pants scoffs, but doesn’t move away from you. “That’s not how it works. Things aren’t that simple.”

“But don’t you ever feel desire to be with someone else?” Hot Pants’ eyes widen at your question and her cheeks turn pink, but still, she doesn’t move away. Instead, she tucks her chin down and nods shyly as if she didn’t want you to notice it. You put your hand on her thigh and she jumps, but makes no move to push you away. 

“It’s not bad to have thoughts like that, HP. It’s normal. I know you have your own reasons for being here, but don’t you think that this kind of situation warrants some... leeway?” You gently squeeze her thigh and she lets out an almost imperceptible moan - you don’t miss her cheeks going from pink to bright red.

“I... I don’t know,” Hot Pants says. She shifts closer to you. “I haven’t ever... done this kind of thing with someone else. Even before.”

It was now or never. “What if I helped you? There’s no one around but us.” You lick your lips, and you hear her breath hitch. “We don’t even have to get undressed. There is more than one way to do things, you know.”

Hot Pants is quiet for a moment, and then steals a quick glance to catch your gaze. “O-okay.”

Seeing her so vulnerable when HP was normally so strong and confident turned you on more than you wanted to admit - today was just the start, but there was so much more you wanted to do with her.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be gentle.” You murmur - you slide your hand further up her leg until it’s resting on her hip and lean in to press your lips against her pulse point, soft. You can feel her heart skittering underneath your mouth and you can’t help but to chuckle against her, making her pulse race even faster. You trail your lips from her neck up to her jaw before you’re hovering close enough to her lips that you can feel her cool breath against you.

“Want me to keep going?” You whisper, lips dangerously close to hers. 

“Yes,” she replies, voice wobbly. You close the gap between the two of you and catch her mouth in a gentle kiss, letting her get used to the sensation before you start to gently pull at her bottom lip with your teeth. Hot Pants groans and you use the chance to slide your tongue inside her mouth, earning a noise of surprise before she settles into the new sensation. 

The kiss itself is enough to have Hot Pants panting. All you want to do is take her apart but you know she deserves to be treated gently, as much as you want to see her blissed out after being given a thorough fucking. 

Instead, you have a better idea. Something simple that won’t require anything too extreme. You break apart from the kiss and smile when you see that her lips try to follow yours. As much as you’d love to keep kissing her, there’s something else you’d like to try instead - something that would help her feel good.

“Straddle my thigh.” You say, pulling back to look at her expression. Hot Pants’ eyes are lidded as she looks at you until she realizes what you’ve said, eyes opening in surprise. 

“What?” She replies, nearly breathless from the kiss.

“C’mon, you heard what I said. Straddle my thigh.” Hot Pants says nothing else despite the look of trepidation on her face and follows your instructions this time, pressing herself into your thigh with her knees on either side. The effect is immediate - she gasps as her clothed pussy presses against your strong leg. You can only imagine what she’s feeling right now, how intense the sensation must be even over her thin pants. You’d really love to feel her bare skin against yours, but that could wait for another time when she was more confident.

“Now ride it.” Hot Pants bites her lip, unsure, but reaches out to place her hands on your shoulders anyways. Her head dips down as she tentatively starts to move her hips, at first so slow that she’s barely moving. Once or twice she lifts herself up, as if she wanted to change her mind, but then quickly planted herself back on your thigh. Her hips swivel and you hum at her in approval, watching as her cheeks grow red again. The flush extends all the way down to her neck and chest - if you weren’t so sure she’d be too embarrassed by it, you’d tell her she looked adorable. Compared to her blunt nature that you admired, this shy version of Hot Pants made your dominant nature rise to the front.

“That’s right, just like that.” You coo. Hot Pants lets out a hiss through her teeth as she starts to roll her hips faster on top of your thigh, pressing down more insistently as her pace increases. With each moment you know her inhibitions are falling away - you need to know just how good this is making her feel. “How does it feel, using my thigh like this?”

Though it takes a moment for her to respond, she does. “G-good.” Hot Pants is grinding herself against you now, the damp spot on her pants starting to rub off on you. “A-ah,” she moans, quiet.

“I knew it. You wanted to do something like this all along, didn’t you?” Your eyes don’t leave her face as you speak, and you can see her bite her lip. “You don’t have to lie to me. It’s just us, remember?”

“... Nooo,” she whines, but her the rhythm of her hips betrays her voice.

“You can admit it. I bet you used to sneak away at night and touch yourself.” Hot Pants gasps loudly and presses her pussy against your thigh even harder. “You’d think of someone between your legs, or maybe you between their legs before you prayed for forgiveness in the morning.”

“I-I would never,” Hot Pants body betrays her again, though, as she starts to shudder. She had to be close - your leg was practically soaked by now, but you didn’t care. You wanted it to be that way, to get as much as her from you could. 

“You may not have been with someone else, but it’s obvious you know how to pleasure that tight little pussy of yours—”

You don’t even get to finish what you’re saying before Hot Pants cries out louder than before, fingers clamping down on your shoulders as she reaches her peak on your thigh. Her breathing is fast as she rides out her orgasm, body shuddering every couple moments as she pants and comes back down. Your leg is positively soaked with her release and you want so badly to have her head between your thighs cleaning up her mess - but you manage to repress the feeling for now, instead leaning forward to press a kiss to her sweaty forehead.

“That wasn’t so bad, was it? It’ll be our little secret, I promise. Don’t you feel better now?” You say, soft. Hot Pants lets out a sigh and meets your gaze, something imperceptible in her eyes.

“I... Do you think I could be by myself for a bit?” You nod. You’re not offended by her blunt words, or by her lack of comment on what just happened. She’d need time to adjust, you knew that from the start. You smile at her as you get up, walking in the direction of where the horses were tied up so you’d be out of earshot for whatever she needed to do. Though your own lower half was desperate for attention, you decide to save that for a different time. You have some self-control... 

-

Though the tent feels awkward at first that night, it quickly passes as you both fall into sleep. When you’re awoken by a slick sound and muffled moans, though, you decide maybe now was the right time to take care of your own problem. Surely, Hot Pants would return a favor with a favor.

"Now your mine." Kylo said as he walked around you facing you. He bent towards the table picking up a deep dark red leash. He snapped the leather together chuckling as you jumped slightly.

"Do we get to go walking around now?" You asked ever so sweetly.

"Almost my sweet pet." He answered. Clipping the leash to your collar. Giving it a quick pull, tugging your body towards his. You pressed flushed against his chest. He grabbed your chin tilting your head up. You lips collided with his. Gently at first but you grew to needy for him and deepen the kiss.

He tugged the leash back in one jerk pulling you from his plump lips. "TSK TSK TSK kitten. Your far to greedy."

He took a another step back from you, admiring his view. Your face flushed matching your pretty leash. Your crimson gown barley covering you. It's thin sheer lace leaving nothing to the imagination. Kylo liked you like this. So beautiful yet only his.

A deep grunt escaped his lips as he walked around you. Touching your back he pushed you over his desk.  Lifting your sheer layers of crimson exposing your delicious looking cunt.

"Spread your legs wider for me pet." He asked in a husky tone.

Obediently you did so. Opening your legs and pushing you ass father out.

He hummed in approval his leather gloves gliding over your round ass. He slapped it hard. Enjoying the way your ass cheek jiggled for him. Rubbing the red hand print he left behind for a moment before his hand traveled lower. Sliding his hand down spreading your lips open for him. You gasped at the feel of him as he teased you open slowly.

"such a good girl." He praised into your ear.

Grabbing at your leash he jerked your head up, thrusting his fingers into your soaking wet cunt. You moaned at the feel of being stretched open by his large fingers. Your hips pushing back against him wanting more. His fingers worked deep into your cunt. Sloppy, wet sounds echoed. His leather fingers filling you. Pushing in you, toying with clit with his thumb. You whimpered and moaned. You head held into place by the collar. He pulled your leash tighter making your collar lightly crush your airway.

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as your struggled to breath. His fingers fucking your restlessly.

"Please kyl-" You tried to beg. The need was becoming to much.

"I can't hear your princess." He replied.

His fingered never stopping.

"Please KYLO!" You yelled.

"Say. My. Name." He said. Each word punctuated by a sharp thrust.

"Master please let me cum!" You begged tears in your eyes.

"Cum for me pet. Tell me who you belong to." He demanded. His thumb rubbing just right on your sensitive clit as his fingers found your G-stop.

"YOU MASTER. I'm yours!" you screamed happily as your orgasm crashed into you as a ocean wave. Drowning you whole before for you could finally come up for air.

"Such a good girl." he praised. Pulling his fingers from you he offered his other hand helping you up.

"Now, get down on your hands and knees. I want everyone to see your pretty face all flushed after cumming for your Master."

"Yes master." You sang joyfully as you sunk down to the ground.

Kylo gripped your leash, kicking your ass softly indicating for you to go before him. Seductively you crawled. Kylo's boots clicking behind you. Your swung your hips dramatically as your walked on all fours. The cool floor cooling your hot sweaty skin as you continued towards the throne room.

Soldiers and officers moving quickly out of your way. Their gazing never staying on you for to long. The newer troopers however didn't know the rules. Their gazes spotted you as your made your way down the corridor into the throne room. Your dress hugging your breast tightly. Your nipples hard with excitement. Face flushed red and spotted. They lingered to long at the site of you on all fours. Your collar pressed against your innocent neck. Most after a moment looked away. But there was always one. One who gasped, whos cock twitched at the view of you. Whos thoughts were far to loud.

You liked those most. The ones who couldn't look away from you. The ones that kylo noticed far to easily. If you were good, and oh have you been so good. Those where the ones Kylo would let you play with.  Once you had made your way to the throne room Kylo took his place. He patted on his leg for you to sit.

Like any good pet you did so. Facing away from him you straddled his large thigh. Most of the times Kylo let you sit on his lap, occasionally keeping his cock warm during meetings. Petting you softly as you sat. But other times like today he wanted to show you off.

"Do you want to ride my pet?" Kylo whispered into you ear.

"Yes please." You whined.

"If you make a good enough show I'll let your ride my cock later." He breathed into your ear.

You smiled and nodded and began moving your hips against his thigh. The one stormtrooper. The one whos thoughts rung so loudly through out the room stood against the wall. His chest rising quickly. He wore his mask, the trooper. But his eyes bore into through them watching you. Your grinded your hips hard into kylo. Loving the way his pants rubbing your sensitive clit. Moaning loudly as you did so. Your eyes never leaving the troopers mask.

The other troopers all looked down not daring to look at you as you moaned like such a good whore. Kylos hand found their way to your breast. Squeezing them through your see through gown. He pinched your nipples as they harden under his touch.

"Look at him watching you." He smirked quietly.

You moaned louder. Practically soaking Kylos pants.

" Your such a good whore. Riding my thigh like the needy slut you are." He praised to you. "He's thinking about you."

"He thinking about smelling your wet cunt." He continued whispering to you. "Thinking about fucking your pretty little pussy."

"Oh kylo please." You whined.

Kylos hand stopped playing with your breast and wrapped around your throat. Pushing your metal collar deeper into your warm skin.

"Say my name pet." He said harshly. His large hands squeezing your throat tighter.

"Master please." You breathed. "Please let me cum."

"Cum over my thigh kitten. Let him watch you cum on me. See how needy you are for me." He said loud enough for the trooper to hear.

Your chest swelled and your cunt pulsed with need. Your hips moved faster with a purpose now. Your breath coming in short quick pants as kylo pulled your collar tighter. You moans loud and sloppy. Your eyes never leaving the troopers. His cock bulging through his pants. His attention on you. He stood frozen in place as you rode kylo.

The need to cum finally over took you as you bucked. You squeezed your eyes shut. Grinding your cunt against kylo as he pushed his thigh into you. Sound left you as you came. You squeaked as came on kylo. Leaving your breathless as you chanted Kylos name like a pray over and over riding your orgasm out.

Opening them you saw the troopers head snap quickly to the side. He fell with a hard thud to the floor. The other soldiers ignoring his body. You turned your head towards Kylo and smiled. Leaning back against him until your lips touched him. He chuckled, pushing your hair that had fallen in front of your face.

"Your so good pet." He praised. His hand petting your cheek sweetly.

The dizziness in your head has heightened your passions, throwing your head back sends you in a spin but you’re unsure if it’s pure lust rushing through your veins or the alcohol you’ve shared throughout the night. Your body feels hot to the touch, burning your fingertips as you massage your breast. The other holds you steady while you ride his manspread thigh, perched on the leather couch in your hotel room. 

Joon just sits in his boxers, enjoying the show you’re performing for him. His elbow propped up on the back cushion, one hand resting on his temple while you work on your own pleasure, using him as a toy.. or that’s what he wants you to believe. He’s taking in every curve, every wind as you sensually move before his eyes. He feels powerful, smug in the knowledge that he could easily flip you and own you right now, but he’s enjoying this too much. He’s enjoying you in your lust fuelled state, no longer your shy or timid self so he’s letting you enjoy the freedom, for now.

Your breath hitches with every drag against his thick thigh, smearing your arousal along him like you’re marking him as yours. Teasing your clit with every gyration, determined for him to feel how much you want him. How thinking about him is making you wet. How much you want him to take you. To fill you completely but you know he’s in control here. You’re waiting on his word but he sits patiently, a satisfied look painted on his face as you continue your motions.

Your legs begin to tire beneath you and a frustrated groan ripples through your throat. Your hands grasping his knee as you slow your movements, breathing heavy and whimpering above him. Joon notices, eagerly leaning against your body. His skin feels like electric at the slightest touch, goosebumps rising across your body causing pleasant shivers. You lean back against him, offering your neck like it’s his to devour.

“Don’t you dare slow Baby,” he speaks in his low timbre, it vibrating against the pulse on your neck as you gather breath. No longer drunk from the bar, completely drunk on him. Your fingertips combing through Joon’s hair, taking hold as you inhale deeply. His lips grazing the skin on your neck, teasing and making you wait for their gentle touch. His breath cooling your skin, causing a static feeling as you wait in anticipation. 

Joon’s hands snake around your body, his fingers flexing as they take purchase against your hips. Burning imaginary indentations into your sensitive skin as he tightens his grip. “Keep going,” he murmurs against your ear, before placing the slightest kiss just below it. He adjusts his stance, raising his thigh slightly as his hands begin to gently pull you back. You sigh, following his guidance back and forth with your head still against his shoulder. The motions beginning to ignite within you as you succumb to him.

He watches you begin to lose it above him, your hand grasping at your breast while the other needs to feel him, raking through his hair and tugging rhythmically with every pull against your clit. Your shyness completely gone as you revel in the pleasure that’s filling your body. His name on your lips between intakes of breath and wanton gasps as you near your high. 

“Enjoying that Baby?” he lowly chuckles, knowing he’s fully in control now.

“I-I need you Joon. I need to feel you,” you moan as you start to come undone above him. Chest heaving, and a heated rush beginning to surge through your body.

A smirk rises across Joon’s face, eyebrow raised and dimple popped. Feeling powerful and desired as he watches you teeter on the edge. Knowing he could do this to you, with just his thigh. His touch. His lips reach your ear once more, whispering words while the timbre rumbles through your body, coaxing your orgasm to its peak,

“You want me? Soon Baby. Cum for me first.”