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Pairing: Bodyguard!Kenshi Takahashi x AFAB!Reader

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: first person POV, no use of (y/n), dirty talk, fingering, mirror sexy time, the reader is absolutely obsessed with him (I mean who among us isn't), pre-blinding

A/N: Guys. Guys…this fic has been such a trek. Originally it was going to be a one shot, then I was like 'oh I have so many ideas for a longer sex scene, so I'll make it two parts', then I completely stalled. I felt like it was unfair to me and the fic to just let it rot away on my computer. So here it is. It is complete but if I'm feeling especially smut inclined, maybe MAYBE I'll write the marathon sex I had been thinking of adding. AO3

Kenshi was a brick wall, unmoving, firm, rigid.

It was infuriating.

All I wanted was his eyes on me. Not in the brief glances I got, but in a way that said he cared. That told me he wanted me as much as I wanted him. I would count how long he would linger on me, where his eyes hovered. Then I would accentuate it. A little extra highlight on my collarbones or especially sparkly earrings to draw attention to the slope of my neck. But he would stay silent, only speaking when spoken to. There were a few touches to my lower back, or fingers brushing my arm, that would ignite me for days. They weren’t adoring caresses. They were always in a way to guide me.

I wanted to claw at him in desperation, in anger. In the four months that he’s been assigned as my closest bodyguard, he had paid me little mind. His head was forever on a swivel. My Father had more enemies than men to fight against. I was his most precious gift, as he always called me. Kenshi served as the last line of defense between me and any would be assassins. I had many guards most days, anywhere from three to ten. But Kenshi was the closest. Frustratingly close. His room was next to mine in any hotel. He sat next to me in any car, plane, or train. Everytime his knee would brush against me, my skin would flare, clit twitching in interest. I would press my ear to the wall when I heard the shower going next door, praying that I would hear my name in his smooth voice.

I was suffocating under the need for him. Sometimes I would sneak out of my house in the dead of night to find myself at some hook-up’s apartment. Even while he’s trying to coax moans from me, they only come if I imagine Kenshi. It’s his tattooed hands curling inside me. It’s his cock pushing into me. It’s his moans filling my ears. But my brain can never smooth over the clumsiness of these men. I knew Kenshi would never fumble at me like this, only doing enough to open me to them, never enough for toe curling pleasure. I would never stay with these men once I had my meager fill. What was the point? They weren’t him. Other nights, I was forced to shove my fingers in my soaked pussy myself. This is when I could moan his name with reckless abandon. If I knew he was next door, I always imagined pounding on his door. He would open, shirtless and only in boxers, rumpled from sleep. Then I would demand, order, him to fuck me. He wouldn’t refuse my direct request.

Then, in the harsh morning light, I would be overcome with hot, burning shame. I felt disgusted at thinking of my employee like that. That it always made me come hardest when I imagined ordering him to fuck me. That he would say yes ma’am and drop to his knees before me. But inevitably, I would find myself in the same position. I thought of him in the same primal, lustful way I knew some people thought of me. But my body recoiled at the idea of showing him. I never wanted to be a predator, using my power to convince, or worse, force him. So I struggled to maintain an aloof air around him to keep a wall between us. Unfortunately, it sometimes came out wrong. At worst it made me seem bratty and spoiled. Which I could be if it benefited me, but it usually resulted in the briefest flash of annoyance on Kenshi’s handsome face.

The business trip my Father brought me along on had been boring. Shanghai was similar in certain ways to my home city of Tokyo. But I loved exploring more than anything. Unfortunately, I saw none of it. I was shepherded from home to grand home, smiling at old gang bosses and fluttering my eyelashes at their sons. If even one of them showed interest, I would have pulled them to the nearest bathroom, language barrier be damned. Words didn’t matter much when it came to fucking. Anything to get rid of this ache in me. Kenshi and I had been stuck together, his body always protectively standing behind me. All I could smell was his cologne, fogging all my senses. I felt like I was going insane. How could just one man have me so devoted with such little effort. I was barely able to pry the barest conversation from him and yet I was so entranced. Talks of merging ties, merging families, did little to wash away the desperation in me. If anything it made it burn hotter. I was running out of time to make Kenshi weak for me.

It was our last night here and I had barely seen the city. I felt like a caged animal, tail flicking in anger at being restrained. So I decided that I would do something about it. My knuckles rapped against Kenshi’s door, my platformed toe tapping on the carpeted floor. Nothing. I raised my fist to bang but the door swung open before I could make contact. He was still in his uniform, maroon suit and black button up. The first few buttons were popped open and his sleeves were rolled back to show off the delicious tattoos inked there. Just that extra bit of skin made my mouth water. “What would you like from me?” So much. Everything. I can’t remember when he started saying this instead of how can I help you. There was something about the phrase that made the back of my brain perk up in question. Maybe he knew how much I craved him?

“I want to go out,” I said simply, gesturing to my short sparkly dress. It was tight and low cut. A fervent recklessness had settled deep in my stomach. The chance I would have a ring on my finger by the end of year was growing. My chance for a touch, a kiss, from the man who consumed me so completely was slipping away. His brown eyes flicked down me. I was seeing things, surely. His gaze was slow as it pulled along my skin, taking in the curve of my calf, the dip of my knee, the swell of my hips. I suck in a sharp breath. The trail burns along my skin, makes my nipples pebble when he takes in the carefully placed line of glitter between my breasts. Then he meets my eyes and my heart stutters. His eyes were blazing with desire. I blinked. That look was gone. Had I just imagined all that? Silence hung heavy between us as I waited for him to say anything.

He didn’t.

“There’s a club twenty minutes away,” I mumbled, feeling dazed, confusion keeping hurt at bay. Kenshi leaned against the door frame, a little sigh escaping those dream worthy lips.

“You want to spend your last night in Shanghai at some club?” I crossed my arms, titling my chin up on defiance.

“I’ll go myself then,” I turned without so much as another glance and stomped down the hall. I reached the wall of elevators but it was Kenshi’s multicolored finger that pressed the down arrow. Only a few moments of silence pass before the elevator dings, metal doors sliding open. “It’s the best you come with. I don’t have my key.” My heels make satisfying clicks on the marble floor as I step into the elevator, jabbing the lobby button. Kenshi huffs but I caught a tiny, fond smile on his lips before he turned his back to me.

The car dropped us a block away as the crowded streets grew too thick for it to pass through. I didn’t mind the walk. The street was bathed in a kaleidoscope of neon. Small food carts with fragrant meat skewers and crunchy scallion pancakes dotted the sidewalks. Curls of cigarette smoke puffed from open bar doors, the men holding them nursing beers. A group of women drew closer, stumbling a bit on their too high heels. My Mandarin wasn’t refined enough to keep up with their rapid conversation but I picked up on tattoos and handsome. They giggled, shooting glances at Kenshi behind me, the alcohol making them bold. I bared my teeth and sped past them.

It wasn’t the first time I had heard someone swoon over him. In fact, it was a near constant occurrence. Women would fall in his lap or men would shyly pass him a drink, intentionally brushing their hands against his. I tried to let it not affect me in the beginning. He was his own man and he could sleep with whoever he wanted. But that reasonable understanding gave way to burning possessiveness soon enough. My jaw would flex, anger flaring suddenly. He did nothing to invite others to approach him and when they did, he would politely rebuff them. I knew I had no claim over him, over his body or his heart. But that didn’t mean I wasn’t selfishly clinging onto them.

I heard, felt, the club before I even saw the last man in line. The bass of energetic house music was rumbling through the concrete walls of the building. We rounded the corner and saw the line wrapped all the way around the building. But neither me nor Kenshi paused to wait, like good club goers. We went immediately to the bouncers at the entrance. The man on the right held up a thickly muscled arm. “No VIP, no entrance. In line.” His Japanese was clipped but understandable. He had to shout to be heard over the music seeping out from the open door.

“I’m not a fan of waiting,” I said in Mandarin. I knew it would put him on the backfoot. I glanced over at Kenshi who was already tugging a thick slab of yuan from inside his jacket pocket. The bouncers’ eyes widened as Kenshi deliberately thumbed through the notes. We both knew all of it was going to the men anyways, no need to count, but the show of excessive wealth was as important as actually having it. But all I could see was the way Kenshi’s inked fingers easily delved between the money, how nimble they were. The simple act of counting shouldn’t have had my panties this damp. I had to look away, catching the eye of the bouncer to the left. He glanced away, his cheeks pink. I gave him an appraising once over. He wasn’t particularly handsome but he looked strong enough to hold me down. If everything fell apart tonight, he would do. Kenshi split the notes in half, handing the equal chunks to each man. They smiled, unclipping the velvet rope they guarded and bid us in. I made sure to wink and wave at the bouncer I caught staring.

The music was thunderous, rumbling into my very bones. I could hear a mixture of languages, their sounds only adding to the cacophony. Women in dresses like mine, wisps of glittery fabric, weaved between clumps of men. My heart leapt in excitement when I saw that the dance floor was packed. I wouldn’t have to be dancing alone tonight. The swaying purple and blue lights caught on my sparkly dress, sending bright stars across the floor. Small leather booths were tucked into the walls. Very few were filled, most were couples that used the relative darkness to their advantage. “I want a drink,” I called, before snaking my way through the crowd, trying to get to the silver bar.

With a good amount of shoving, I was able to finally reach it. A bartender appeared, a smile on her pretty face. I opened my mouth to respond but stalled when I felt Kenshi’s chest press against mine, his hands planting on the metal bar top, caging me against him. His breath fanned across my hair, dusting down my neck. He’d never been so forward before. I let out an unexpected whine that was hopefully drowned out by the thudding music. The bartender was looking between me and Kenshi, a look of concern on her face. “Don’t worry about him,” I shouted, giving her a nervous smile. I wanted to assure her that my look of shock had nothing to do with Kenshi being creepy. I gave my drink order and she left to make it, constantly glancing back at him looming over me. “You’re so close,” I said, peeking over my shoulder at him.

He…wasn’t looking at me. Instead his eyes were scanning the bar, trying to find anyone suspicious. My stomach dropped and embarrassment filled me. Of course he wasn’t looking at me. That wasn’t why he was paid. This new closeness was just a symptom of the climate we were in. If he were to hover behind me, he would be buffeted around in the moving crowd. A glass was slid in front of me and I moodily plucked the cherry from it, snapping the fruit off its stem with my teeth. The sweetness, then the burn of alcohol once I downed my cocktail did little to dull my sense of shame. A different bartender passed by, asking if I wanted another. I nodded.

The song changed, a lighter pop song. I absently tapped my foot along to the beat as I tried to ignore Kenshi against me. A new cocktail was put in front of me and I sipped at it. The new drink was made with a much heavier hand than before. The liquor burned my throat and made my chest heat. I still swallowed all of it in a few big sips. That restless need deep in me to confess to Kenshi hadn’t disappeared. I would need something strong to let me be that vulnerable. I placed the new cherry in my mouth, chewing without tasting much. Kenshi’s breath tickled my ear as he leaned toward it.

“Just let those two settle before you drink anything more,” he hummed. My eyes squeezed shut as I battled against all the emotions raging in me. I wanted to snap at him, remind him that he had no right to tell me what to do. But I also wanted to collapse into his arms and beg him to understand my feelings, unload everything I have felt onto him. Instead I spun in my makeshift enclosure to face him. Kenshi didn’t flinch when our noses brushed against each other. My eyes narrowed.

“I’m going to dance.” It looked like Kenshi would keep me pinned there for a moment. His eyes were on me but I couldn’t read the emotion in the flashing dark. But I felt it. It was something heavy and my skin rippled in goosebumps at the feeling. The moment hung, thick with tension that he had never allowed before. Then he nodded and moved his arms away, standing straight. When I blinked dumbly at him, he gestured with a broad hand to the pulsing dance floor. Once again, rejection bit at my skin and I pushed past him and practically dove in the thick crowd of people.

All my senses became numb as I began to dance. The lights were too bright so I let my eyes fall closed. The music overwhelmed my ears and I let it, reveling in the strange almost silence it brought, my thoughts completely drowned out. My nose was invaded by the smell of hundreds of different perfumes and colognes, the tangy scent of alcohol, and the sharp undertone of sweat, washed over me. It was easy to fall in the rhythm of those around me. Everyone’s bodies moved as one, like a wave. Men turned to allow women to press against them. Women giggled and threw their heads back. Rouge hands grabbed at exposed skin and hips. Maybe the cocktails were finally hitting me because I just giggled when the man I was flushed against laid his hands on my thighs. I could feel him getting hard against me. It felt like some nasty victory against Kenshi. I didn’t know where he had planted himself, I did not care. But if this man, completely random, found me so alluring, clearly it was Kenshi’s problem he didn’t as well.

The song changed and I gave my dance partner a sly smile before moving onto the next one. Several songs passed like this, letting random people touch me, press brave kisses on my neck. Then I stumbled upon a group of women. They immediately drew me in, talking excitedly in very rapid Mandarin. I let them know I only spoke a little but they all flapped their hands wildly, waving any concerns away. One of them, a particularly tall bleach blonde, said she could speak Japanese. With the pesky issue out of the way, I was invited to dance with them. They were clearly several drinks deep and mine were settling in. We all traded off with each other, allowing the other woman to shamelessly grind against us, laughing the entire time. I was starting to feel light, all of my worries fading. The tall blonde offered me some of her drink which I gladly took. She winked at me in a very not lighthearted way when I handed the glass back to her. I could feel a blush rush up my already hot cheeks. She leaned close, gloss-covered lips nearly sticking to the shell of my ear. “That guy has been staring at you this whole time. Do you want me to get the bouncer?”

My hazy head felt a rush of fear. Was I being stalked? Then I realized. Kenshi had somehow managed to fall behind in my mind. I followed her gaze and found him, standing with his arms crossed, eyes squarely on me. I chuckled, “I’ll be back!” I disentangled myself from the women around me, stumbling a bit as a man knocked into me. I was able to squeeze out of the throng of bodies and walked over to Kenshi. I could see him tracking my progress but he didn’t move. “My new friend says you look dangerous,” I say, almost scolding, once I plant myself in front of him. A dumb, tipsy smile was spread across my warm face. Kenshi raised a perfect eyebrow.

“I am dangerous, that’s why I’m paid.” I scoff.

“You’re not dangerous to me!” Kenshi cocked his head to the side. He was surely dangerous for me. I turned into nothing but a horny desperate mess around him. But that wasn’t what I was talking about. “Come on,” I say, tugging on the lapels of his jacket, “let’s dance!” If I wasn’t feeling so light and carefree, I would realize that I was starting to walk a dangerous line.

“I’m not dancing,” he says simply. I pout unabashedly, looking up at him through my mascara covered lashes.

“But you can’t protect me from all the way over here! What if an assassin stabs me on the dance floor? You might not even see it happen.” He glared and I glared back playfully. Then he sighed, unlatching my hands from his jacket, his rough fingers scratching against the sensitive skin of my inner wrist. “Come on,” I shout, dragging him to the dance floor. People part for him instantly, either due to his height or the air of power emanating from him. He plants himself in the middle of the crowd and waits for me to make the next move.

So I close my eyes again, letting music thrum through me. My arms float up, hips swaying, head thrown back. I allow a small space between me and Kenshi, but soon I miss the press of someone against me. I shuffle my feet so my back molds against his chest. I can feel him tense, his hands diving into his pockets. A song passes like this before I turn, breasts squished against him, eyelashes fluttering. “Kenshi, relax. Touch me like you want me. You only have to pretend for a bit. Just please.” He shifts, eyes darting between mine. Then he nods. I turn, cupping my hand around the back of his neck, head tossed back against his chest.

The new song is heavy, bass rumbling, my heart pounding with the intense beat. Kenshi’s hands go to my waist, tentative at first, then his fingers dig into my hips. My shocked gasp is lost in the song. His touch is possessive. He guides me against him and I become liquid in his strong grip. He doesn’t grind desperately against me like some of my previous partners. Instead, he sways our hips together, perhaps a bit slow for the current song. My breath is already ragged. First from an hour of dancing, but now, just his touch is making my body shudder.

The booze makes me brave and I ease his hand on my hip lower, to the hem of my dress. There’s a moment where it feels like he might pull away. He stills behind me, hand hovering. But he plants it on my skin, much higher up my skirt than I had positioned him, but still not close enough. I feel his breath flutter over my ear as he leans down. “Desperate?” His cheek rests against my sweaty temple.

“Only for you,” I gasp back. What was the point in lying? The truth is what will get me what I crave. I turn my head, our lips brush, for just a moment. It’s too dark to see the emotion in his eyes but I’m too impatient to wait for him to move. My face draws closer to his and to my relief, he doesn’t recoil away. Just a little more-

Ice cold liquid splashes against my chest. “I’m sorry!!” If looks could kill, the man in front of me would have died a million deaths. The moment I had wanted above all else was gone. Kenshi had stepped back and my body felt cold without him. I wanted to scream, beg him to touch me again. I stomped away, being maybe a little too mean in my shoving to get dancers out of my way. My aching feet drag me toward the back of the club, finding a row of bathroom doors. I try a few before I find an empty one. As I turn, my eyes connect with Kenshi’s. His mouth opens like he intends to say something but the door snapping shut cuts his words off.

Near silence falls in the open bathroom, the music muffled. My eyes can’t tear themselves away from where Kenshi had been. He looked…confused? Worried? Sad? That careful, blank mask had cracked for a moment, for only my eyes. Emotions, confusing as they were, so plain on that face for the first time since I met him.

And I slammed the door on him.

I sigh, eyes squeezing shut until stars pop behind the lids, before opening them again. The bland gray door was still there, right where I had put it. My heels clicking against the stone floor echo off the walls as I go to the sink. I grab fistfuls of paper towels, wiping at my drink soaked skin. It had become sticky so I was forced to go over again with damp towels. I can feel beads of liquid dripping down my shoulders. I try to catch them but fail. I huff, annoyed gaze catching itself in the large mirror. I had been careful to avoid it, scared that I would see some defeated, broken woman. But all I see is cracked foundation around my mouth from laughing and smudged mascara from sweat.

The bathroom door creaks open and I poke my head out. Kenshi stands sentinel, scanning the dance floor, arms folded. “Can you help me? That idiot got some drink on my back.” Kenshi gives a curt nod, following me into the cramped space. I take my place in front of the sink, drumming my finger anxiously against the faux marble. All that wild assurance of Kenshi’s desire for me is gone. It died once the harsh LED light of the bathroom hit it.

Kenshi’s rough fingertips graze the nape of my neck as he clasps the back of my dress, the zipper gliding open. With the low cut of my dress, a bra would be completely impractical, so my back was bare to him. His inked fingers reach for a paper towel, wetting it before beginning to pat at the liquor. I can only stare at the sink. The idea of our eyes locking was too much. The wet towel was dropped in the nearby trash can before he used a fresh one to dry me. “Do you want to go back to the hotel?” His voice is low and soft as he works the zip back closed.

“I don’t know.” Part of me wanted to stay, drown my embarrassment in booze and that bouncer out front. Sinking into the plush bed at the hotel also sounds appealing. But once we leave this bathroom, any tension between us will evaporate. I have to do something now or risk losing my opportunity forever. I turn to face him. Our bodies are close enough that every breath I take pushes my breasts into his chest. God he’s so handsome. Up close, I could see faint white scars along his square jaw, a small dent on his right cheek bone. His hands go into his pockets as he allows me to drink in his face.

Kenshi makes the faintest noise of surprise when my lips press to his. The tipsy part of me is begging to give him every ounce of my kisses I can but I hold myself back. His lips are so soft against mine. But they don’t move with me. Instead they stay still. My eyebrows cinch together over my closed eyes. I linger, stupidly hoping that he would reciprocate the kiss. A single touch of those long fingers on me would have reduced me to a puddle. The tears collect behind my lids before I drag my face from his. The silence is deafening. I can feel Kenshi’s focus on me but I can’t bare to see his face. It was a clear rejection, among a series of others from tonight, and it still stings.

“You’ve been drinking, you aren’t thinking straight.” I bite my lip at his understanding tone, it’s near pity.

“Don’t,” I snap, eyes flying open. Kenshi looks startled at my sudden change in attitude. “We both know that this isn’t new. I know I’m not subtle with my desire for you. If you can’t see that, I need a new guard. My Father is clearly wasting his money on you.” The corner of his lips turn down in a frown. That was perhaps a bit too far and harsh, but my frustration is bubbling up faster than I can quell it. “I can’t do this anymore. You have two choices now. You can leave, I won’t be angry. If you walk away, I’ll call my Father in the morning and request a new guard. But if you stay, kiss me, fuck me, make me go to my knees for you. Do whatever you want to me. I’ll take anything you give me. Pick.”

Kenshi’s eyes had widened as I ranted. My chin jutted out in defiance under his scrutiny. It wasn’t romantic or eloquent, but it was the truth. This burning need for him couldn’t go on anymore. I made my wants clear. It was his choice now. If he left, I knew I would cry. It would hurt like when my pet fish died at age ten, like something was pulled away from my heart. Perhaps in all my craving, real feelings had grown, sprouting in secret, shadowed by desire.

Kenshi considers me and I instantly flush under him. There’s something distinctly unprofessional in the way he regards me. It’s that same hungry stare from his hotel door. “If I tell you what to do, will you listen?” My stomach swoops at the question and I hurriedly nod. “Then turn around.” I do, nearly stumbling in my rush, heels clicking loudly. My eyes go to him immediately only to find him staring back. His head is perfectly framed above mine. “Why are you finally admitting this?” My mouth opens to answer, but my voice dies in my throat as his calloused fingers trace up my arms. They start with tender skin on the back of my hands, then take long, languid paths up my forearms. Every touch makes my body tingle like his fingers are electrified. He gives both my elbows a squeeze as he passes them. “Tell me.”

“Because I know I’m going to be married soon. That I’ll be shipped here, marrying a man I probably won’t love, expected to pump out sons every two years.” My shudder has nothing to do with his touch. “And I just…” I break eye contact, gaze downcast. It feels too personal to say out loud. But I promised him I would obey him. “I like you too much to not say anything.” Kenshi hums, his body pressing closer.

“In what way do you like me? If you tell me, I’ll tell you how I like you.” Shock ripples through me as I gape at his reflection. His face is mostly impassive, but there’s a gleam in his eye I haven’t seen before. His digits slide under the straps of my dress, outlining my collar bones. Once again I find my mouth trying to form words, but my throat refuses to make sound. I can’t say this. Not out loud. “Hey,” his voice is soft as he leans close, breath ghosting down my neck. “You said you would do what I asked.”

“I want you so bad that I,” my face must be a magnificent shade of red right now. “I fantasize about you. All the time.” Once I say it, the dam opens. “I go out at night and imagine I’m having sex with you. When we travel, I have to stop myself from going to your room and making you fuck me. On trains or planes, I want to drag you to the bathroom and jerk you off till you beg me to stop.” Kenshi hums, body curling close around me. That’s when I feel it. It’s a boner hard and big enough to make my eyes pop wide. Heat blooms between my legs so quickly that my knees nearly give out. “Your turn,” I mumble. He chuckles, low and deep in my ear. The raspy sound makes my thighs clench, nipples hardening.

“If you were to ever ask, I would have done anything you ordered of me. If you knocked, I would fuck you until my lungs gave out. I would let you jerk me off in those small plane bathrooms even when I have nothing left to paint over that pretty face.” Those sword worn hands go to my plunging neckline and pop each of my breasts out with care, caressing them like they are something delicate. I bite back a few moans as his fingers pinch and roll the tight buds. “Hm, these look so pretty,” he muses almost to himself. His skin, covered in dark green ink, is in stark contrast to my unblemished chest. “Even now, you could demand me to lay on this floor so you could sit on my face and I would let you.” I can feel my panties become sticky. “Why haven’t you done anything?” He tweaks my nipples and my hips jerk against him at the feeling.

“I would feel too predatory, like some creepy old man.” My words are breathless, back arching to expose more of my chest to him. His head ducks, lips grazing at my thundering pulse point, not quite kisses, but enough to make me tremble. “And you never gave me any hints you wanted this.” I try to sound biting but only manage a pitiful gasp as his hands descend lower. They skim over my thighs, avoiding the hem of my dress. Anticipation is rushing through me, eyes glued to Kenshi’s hands in the mirror.

“How could I? You are your Father’s precious gift.” I can’t stop the annoyance from flashing on my face. That nickname will haunt me till my grave. “I don’t think he would want the help pumping his daughter full of cum every chance he gets.” Finally, he begins to press wet kisses along the column of my throat. “Imagine we get caught,” he murmurs. “How would you explain my dick down your throat? Princesses like you shouldn’t act like whore for men like me.”

“Oh god,” I whimper. It feels like my skin is melting with every filthy word. His deliciously rough hands drift to the side of my thighs as he works the end of my dress over my hips, revealing the pink lacy panties there. Kenshi props his chin on my shoulder and I can feel his focus practically burning me in the mirror. My head falls back on his shoulder, a blush rushing across my exposed chest and throat. “Kenshi,” I’m begging now. I think even one touch will send me over the edge. One of his feet nudges my ankles and I spread my legs without question.

“Look at yourself.” His fingers pinch my chin, forcing me to look at my own reflection. “Is a few kisses all I need to do to get you so turned on?” I look wild, pink chest heaving, lips parted on shallow pants. “Did all those other people get you like this? The ones you imagined were me.”

“No, only you make me this crazy.” The smile he flashes me nearly brings me to my knees. The dull bathroom lightning catches perfectly on the points of his canines. For a moment, all I can think about is how those teeth would feel against my clit. “Fuck,” I breathe and it only makes his smile grow. “Stop toying with me,” and I press my ass against the rock hard monster in his pants. “Just fuck me, please.” He gives a thoughtful hum.

Then shakes his head.

There’s a terrible moment where my heart clenches. I expect him to walk away and leave me. But that fear eases when his left hand bunches my dress in a fist, his right delving between my slick thighs, middle finger teasing my clit. My wanton moan is thankfully covered by the thudding base outside. “You’re already so wet for me,” Kenshi purrs in my ear, littering the space behind my ear with feather light kisses. He moves in quick, sure movements that have me quivering in his arms in mere moments. The lace scrapes against my sensitive skin and I grind down on the digit. “Be good and bend over,” his hand draws back and I whine at its absence.

“Kenshi I don’t-“ my voice is slurred. I go to turn to him, order him to stop teasing me. But before I can, his hand splays between my shoulder blades, guiding me flat against the cool counter. I allow him, elbows crossed in front of me so I can still see him in the mirror. The hand holding my dress flips the material over my hips and exposes my ass to him. Kenshi’s agile fingers hook into the band of my too expensive panties, easing it down my legs, until it’s dangling around my ankles. He takes a step back, admiring.

“You look so pretty like this,” he mumbles, thick fingers trailing over my ass. He suddenly takes fistfuls of the flesh, spreading me open more to him. The roughness forces a gasp from me. “Fuck,” he groans, hands dragging down my legs, nearly ticklish with how sensative I was. “You’re dripping.” As if to prove his point, he runs a finger over a river of slick on my inner thighs. I feel tight, like a string about to snap if he doesn’t touch me right now. “I won’t fuck you, not yet at least.”

“Why!?” I sound pathetic, voice frail and a gasp. That cocky smirk flashes across his face again as he catches me in the mirror. I hope I’m too wet for him to notice just how much that face is working on me. His hands go to his maroon suit jacket, inching it down his broad shoulders. He definitely knows how much this is affecting me. He does everything he can to make the simple act as sensual as he can, chest puffing out, forearms flexing under his tight black button up. His first two fingers make a curling motion, signaling me to stand up. All I can see is how thick those two fingers together look. I follow his silent order though, and the folded jacket is put under me so my elbows have a comfortable place to rest. “Thank you,” I mumble. When I go back to bending forward without prompting, he makes an approving noise.

Kenshi’s fingers go to the buttons along his cuff, slowly rolling back the arms of his shirt. My eyes are glued to his hands, nearly drooling as more and more of his veins are revealed. More of the tattoos I know he has. More of him. It has no right being so goddamn erotic. “I’m not going to fuck you now because,” he says, hands back on my hips, “when I get my dick in this pretty pussy, I’m going to fuck you until I can’t get hard anymore. Or until you’re passed out under me. Whichever happens first.” I swallow. His right hand skates down my skin, fingers carding through my folds. The rough pads of his fingers make me tremble, back arching. His middle digit peaks up, teasing at my clit, finally. Once again, he moves in tight circles, pulling moans from me with every flick. I can hear how slick I am. But the lewd sounds only spur Kenshi on. My toes curl in my shoes and I try desperately to push against him, something more. Heat is rushing through my body and I know I’m close. As if sensing it, his speed picks up.

“Kenshi!” I cry, my whole body shaking as the orgasm rushes through me. My pussy clenches, hard, around nothing. But he keeps going, drawing out my pleasure till his fingers are leaving behind burning bites on my tender clit. I whine, trying to wiggle my hips away from him. He tsks like an unhappy teacher and tightens the hand on my hip. Just as I’m about to beg him to stop, he does, sinking the finger into my trembling hole. We groan in unison, my eyes falling shut as my head drops forward. His finger pumps into me slowly, curling and arching, as if to discover something. I push against him, overstimulation all but forgotten. “More.”

Even if I can’t see him, I know he’s smiling, as he slips a second digit in. My breath comes to me in weak little moans as he continues the maddening exploration in me. He strokes against every stretch of muscle he can reach, which is seemingly everything. My thighs are trembling now. That hot pool at the bottom of my stomach is forming again. “You're squeezing me so much, feel good?” I nod my head, words having escaped me. The hand at my hip disappears and weaves into my hair, giving it a firm tug. “Keep those pretty eyes open then, watch yourself fall apart.” I lift my heavy head, blurry eyes opening. The apples of my cheeks are a bright pink, chapped lips open on my pants. Then I glanced at him. His gaze practically burns through me with its intensity. He drinks in my body like it’s the last thing he’ll ever see. “Is this the attention you wanted?” His fingers speed up, finding that spongy spot over and over again.

“Kenshi I-“ I whimper, desperate to keep my eyelids open, to watch myself like he asked. But it’s so fucking hard when those fingers are stroking inside me in just the way I want, the way I need. I can’t get anything else out before the heat in my stomach finally explodes. My eyes roll back, mouth slack. He doesn’t stop, only goes faster, like a dog who finally pounces on its prey after playing with it too long. There’s something he’s doing, pushing just the right area, that has me keening. Tears bubble at the corners of my eyes before streaking down my cheeks. The euphoria is never ending as he continues to work me through the orgasm, not allowing it to die off in the first place. His thumb presses against my clit and his free hand leaves my sweaty hair to delve under me to tweak at my nipple. The sensation has me slapping a hand over my mouth to stop a wail. Then he slips a third finger in me. I’m a sobbing, mewling mess, babbling nonsense, strings of his name and so good over and over again.

It’s all so much. The tail end of my second orgasm disappears just in time for my third. It hits me like a train and my legs become liquid under me. My knees knock against the cabinet under the counter. I can’t hear anything beyond the rushing in my ears, just a faint voice. Then Kenshi slows, then stops, and removes himself completely from me. I lay, half melting off the counter, sweaty forehead pressed to the faux marble. A handful of heartbeats pass before I feel a warm expanse of fabric press against my back. There’s a gentle voice that says my name. His breath catches the sweaty hair by my ear, tickling my skin. “You okay?” I give a weak grunt. Kenshi chuckles in response, leaving an affectionate kiss on my cheek, before pulling away.

I hear rustling behind me, then his voice, hard and detached, rumbles out. “Yeah, we need you to come pick us up.” My heavy eyes open, finding his phone wedged between his shoulder and cheek in the mirror’s reflection. The driver from before was undoubtedly talking on the other end. Those agile, thoroughly slick coated, fingers slip between his full lips while he listens, tongue flashing as he licks them clean. I stifle a moan at the sight. He doesn’t say goodbye, just taps to end the call, the phone slipping back into his trouser pocket. “We only have a few minutes.” He draws closer and turns on the tap, dampening a paper towel. I watch as his mirrored self dips low as he kneels behind me. The towel is lukewarm and eases the lingering intensity in me. He takes his time cleaning the crease between my thigh and my overly spent pussy. Then he moves to my other leg. A sleepy quiet passes while Kenshi finishes wiping me down. His teeth briefly sink into my ass, just hard enough for me to yelp, before his tongue laps away the sting. “Time to get up so we can go to the hotel.” My eye flick to his and found a glint of anticipation that was undoubtedly reflected in my own.

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