One shots

Fine wine

"Bring her up even if you have to knock her out."

It had been exactly two minutes since Rebel went looking for the bathroom. Vesper felt the ache in her chest grow stronger, she was in desperate need for some cold air right now. Holding one hand to her heat she used the other to elbow her way through the crowd on dance floor towards the exit. She made it close the end in sight before she felt herself flying through a door on the right. She was hauled by a pair of hands through a secret staircase leading upstairs that was barely lit, forcing her eyes to adjust. One of the grubby hands covered her mouth as they asceneded the stairs.

She didn't bother to put up a fight in the mans arms, although she had a good idea of who the hell it was. She however did huff whilst still being muffled from annoyance of knowing excatly who was behind this. More than anything though she was pissed at herself for letting herself be talked back into this place. Because the outcome was more than likely she would have to recounter the past. The past she had so desperatly had been trying to run away from. To forget.

Watching his lower ranked men manhandling his girl was not exactly the way Ryder thought would be the first time they would see each other again going. He let his mind wander about how he would be there, after knocking her out and having her bound of course. Vesper was the epitome of femme fatale and even he knew how foolish he would be to let her roam freely when they meet again. She was the only person that could bring him to his knees. And turn anything into a weapon. But as she was hauled in hands and legs drooping with no fight he couldn't help the care fusion that fleeted over his face before it evolved into dead eyes and signature smirk. Where was her fighting spirit?

"I see you haven't stopped manhandling people Ry."

The familiarity and casualness of her voice sent chilling shivers down his spine. If possible her felt his body tense more as if possible and finch the slightest. It wouldn't go missed by her. The realisation of exactly how he missed her hit him. So much that he didn't realise how much it was hurting him to see her. To feel her presence in the same room. He still wanted her. All of her, with her arms around him talking about anything and everything like they used to. He missed the only intimate moments he's ever had with any woman. The side only she had seen. No matter how short lived.

Never before did she ever feel so damn exposed. She felt her nerves heighten. His eyes were blank so dead she had only seen him look like that before screaming murder. She hated his his body was coming across defensive, stance tense and ready to roughly attack her to the ground. More than anything she hated how he drank her in growling showing the first emotion of rage like fire to shine in his brown eyes. And the way her body reacted, nipples pebbling and fire from need coursing through her veins.

He could see it in her eyes. She wasn't going to back down. Even though the uncertainty of the situation and the lack of comfort she felt flickered through her eyes for a split second, she stood straight, hands clenched by her side. She made sure to not cower, exposing herself to his onslaught. Leisurely he ran his eyes down her form. Vesper has more curvy and be flat and he loved that. The comfort and confidence that she had in her own skin.

She was the embodiment of fine wine. The halter lace bodysuit did little to stop his mind running wild. Her breasts were barely contained by the criss cross design and from where he was standing he could see her nipples straining against the flimsy material, aching for release. He swore he could still remember their taste, the feel of the way they spilled over his hands. The scrap of material did little to hide the apex between her thighs and he could only imagine how little it did to cover her plump ass. Over it she threw on a short mesh black skirt making her legs go on for miles. Black sky high fuck me heels adorned her feet where her black laced tattoo of an anklet curled around her left ankle. He didn't know which he felt more. The appreciation and urge to make her scream his name slowly as he takes her. Or the rage to fuck her brains out sideways all the way to Sunday until she'd understand that she was his because she was so exposed for all the other men including his own to see what was his freely imagining how they'd make her theirs.