The bedroom door clicked shut behind them, sealing the world out. Her breath hitched as he stepped closer, his presence suddenly darker, heavier. The easy charm he wore at the airport was gone. What stood before her now was pure command.
“Take off your dress,” he said, voice quiet.
She hesitated only a second before sliding the straps off her shoulders. Silk whispered to the floor, pooling around her ankles. She stood bare before him, trembling but unafraid. Wanting.
He circled her like a predator, fingers grazing her shoulder, down her back, slow, possessive. “You’ve been teasing me all night,” he growled into her ear, his breath hot. “Flashing those eyes like you didn’t know exactly what they were doing to me.”
Before she could answer, his hand fisted in her hair and pulled her head back sharply, forcing her to look at him.
“But you did know, didn’t you?”
“Yes, Sir” she whispered, her lips trembling.
A grin touched his mouth, sharp and dangerous. “Then you’ll take what you asked for.”
He kissed her hard, his mouth controlling hers, tongue claiming, demanding. His free hand gripped her waist and spun her around, shoving her down over the padded bench at the edge of the cabin. Her hands caught the edge instinctively. The cool leather against her chest made her gasp.
His body pressed against her back, hard and hot. “Be still,” he growled. Slipping his hands between her legs and satifies to find her pussy dripping.
She nodded, her breath ragged.
He didn’t ease into it. His hands were firm, rough, sliding down her sides, gripping her thighs. She felt the hard press of him, felt him tease—just once—before he entered her in a sharp, claiming thrust that stole her breath.
She cried out, body jolting forward, but he gripped her hips and dragged her back, anchoring her to him. “Do not move,” he hissed. “Take every bit of me.”
He drove into her again, harder this time. His rhythm was brutal, relentless, the sound of skin on skin echoing against the walls. Her body arched, caught between pain and bliss, her moans turning into something desperate.
He was almost satisfied. He snarled in satisfaction, punishing her with pleasure, pushing her to the brink. His grip never wavered—every movement a message: you’re mine. Her mind blanked, nothing left but sensation, his name spilling from her lips like a mantra.
"What do you say?" he questioned with his cheek pressed against hers.
"Thank you, Sir", she whispered.
He thrust into her harder, stronger, and bolder. His shaft was slippery from her pussy juice, welcoming him more and more with each stroke.
"If you stop thanking me, I'll stop fucking you," he told her plainly.
Dazed and confused and relizaing his thrusts had stopped. She searched for clarity and connected his words. Then blurted out "Thank you, Sir". Immediately the hard fucking she needed resumed.
"Thank you, Sir" she continually whispered as her juice spilled out of her pussy and began to run down her legs.
He didn't stop until her legs gave out, until she was limp in his arms, trembling and dazed, utterly undone. Then, finally, his touch gentled. He wrapped her in his arms, kissing the sweat from her skin, whispering against her hair.
“You did beautifully,” he murmured. “You are such a good girl.”
With pride she raised her head and smiled into his eyes.
"Thank you, Sir."