A Wrench

11: Too Good

Mando growls under his helmet at your words, grabbing your shoulders and spinning you, slamming your chest against the nearest wall of a building. You hold your yelp inside your chest, but your gasp is loud, your body disoriented from the movement. He moves his hands to lay flat on the wall on either side of your head, trapping you under him as his chest pushes into your back. Your breath heaves in your chest as you look back and up at him.

"You are such a tease. You wore that dress to drive me crazy, didn't you? Your lips are colored to force me to look at them, aren't they?" his helmet is right at your ear, grazing over your hair.

You swallow, giving him one stiff nod.

"Fucking tease."

His hand slips up the back of your thigh under your dress. Gasping when his gloved fingers swipes up your skimpy thong, he leans down further, his hard helmet presses against the side of your head. His finger pushes aside the fabric in search of your wet, throbbing slit. Your face flames, and your breath is uneven.

"Someone could...walk by and see..." you gasp.

He thrusts a finger inside, making you shutter with shaking breath, his chest holding you against the wall. "You like that, don't you? Look how wet you are."

You can't answer. This is so unexpected, you never thought he could be like this. So public...and aggressive. But all you can think about is wanting another finger, or better yet- his huge cock pounding into you where anyone can see. This isn't even something you've ever considered doing before. It sets your guts on fire.

He inserts another finger and slams his hand into your entrance. "Answer me." he growls.

You stiffen and whimper. "Yes."

"Mmmm, you want everyone to know you're mine, huh mesh'la?"

You know he'll make you answer regardless. "Yes."

"You're so good." He purrs into your ear.

He starts to curl his fingers into you, wiggling and hitting all the perfect spots. Your breath comes in pants, knees growing weak under his forceful pin. Then his free hand lifts the bottom of your dress up over your ass, the warm breeze hitting your bare cheeks. A moan escapes your throat as his leather hand caresses your skin, down your thigh.

"Who does this perfect ass belong to?"

"You!" your voice cracks as you breathe it out. You just want to hurry up and get home so you can touch him and beg him to touch your aching clit.

His hand rubs up and down your bare cheeks for another short moment as his fingers thrust in and out of your slick core. Then he pulls out of you and spins you around to face him. Your mind and body can't keep up. Your head spins, breath ragged and legs shaky. You come face to face with his lifeless helmet, and you can only imagine the kind of expression he's wearing underneath.

"Hold your hands out." he demands.

You comply with a ragged breath. And before you can process it, he's strapping your wrists in thick metal cuffs. You gasp. "Ah—Mando!"

He takes a half step back and looks down at you, pulling at the front of your dress a little, but leaving your bare ass out in the open. He snatches your arm and turns to start walking.

"Walk." Another demand.

Your entire body is flushed red with shame and buzzing with desire. And you walk by his side, your slick thighs rubbing together as you get wetter than you think you've ever been. There's something so wrong and wild about walking down the street in cuffs with your ass out, and so comforting and protective about doing it next to your shiny knight.