Precious | Kylo Ren x Reader | Precious Pet Series | Book 2

You're My Chocolate

In the morning, he was awakened by soft kisses on his neck. There were fingers in his hair and a curvy body half-draped over his left side. He groaned, feeling his dick stir at the tender caresses, and reached up to touch before he bothered to open his eyes.

His right hand didn't connect with anything, and his eyes popped open with confused disorientation. He briefly wondered if he were dreaming, but that didn't make any sense. He knew he wasn't hallucinating because he felt his beloved pressed up against him and the marshmallow-y mattress underneath them with the fine sheets covering it.

The room was cool and almost dark--with no lights on and the opacity of the glass doors set at ninety-percent--and he raised his right hand above his face to find it missing. Oh. He couldn't feel anything because there was no hand to feel.

A deluge of absolute loathing drowned any desire, and he ordered her to get off him. She scooted away to free him from her overly sweet touches. He couldn't take it. He sat up to stare down at the stump of his right arm: the physical evidence of his own folly.

He should've seen Rey coming or ripped her apart the second he'd had the chance. He imagined how it would've felt, to rend her flesh and hear her scream until it dissolved into pained gurgles and then finally silence. Somehow, it didn't feel as satisfying as he thought it would. He couldn't even imagine reaching out to touch her with the Force, let alone with the flesh.

From behind him, his beloved murmured, "It's okay. It's just us."

"I know that," he fumed.

"I don't care."

He glared over his shoulder. "I care."

He could just make her out in the dim. The black undershirt--one of his--she had worn to bed was crooked on her torso. One of the straps was barely on hanging onto her shoulder. Her skin softly shone in the low light. Her hair was just tamed and tucked behind her ears. He could discern the swells of her breasts under the shirt, could see the beginnings of her cleavage.

"I mean, it doesn't matter to me," she corrected herself as he studied her.

"It should." He faced forward again before his cock got back in the game and his own desire distracted him from the reality of his situation.

"Don't tell me what I need to care about. I have priorities--and you are it right now."

"You just want to fuck."

"I do." He heard the rustle of fabric and the mattress dipped a little behind him. "Don't you want me?"

He felt her hands on his bare back. His first instinct was to shake her off, but he couldn't make himself do it. She smoothed her palms over his shoulder-blades and swept his hair to one side.

He admitted, "Of course."

"Then lie back and let me fuck you," she whispered in his ear.

He relaxed back and let her guide him down to the bed. He found the indent from his head in the pillow and wiggled into it. She bent over him and kissed him. Stale breath or an oily nose was nothing in the face of such loving treatment. He melted into it as he reached for her with his left hand. His palm landed on her upper arm, and he pulled her forward to lie on him.

Between the two of them, they got off her shirt and his briefs. His erection pushed against her cotton panties as she straddled his hips and rolled her mound against him. She sat up and brought his hand up to one of her breasts. It fit perfectly in his hand, and he fondled her, tweaking her nipple just because he could.

She purred and trailed her fingers over his loose, disregarded right arm. He wanted to pull it away from her touch, snap at her, but the look in her eyes stopped him. She seemed determined and accepting yet demanding.