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HIS GLOVED HANDS WRAP AROUND HER WAIST EVER SO GENTLY, pinning her to the bed beneath them. He was so gentle despite the seemingly inescapable grip he held on her waist, it was almost as if he was touching broken glass. His amber-rimmed yellow eyes scan over Astrid's lust-clouded eyes and parted lips. Her legs were thrown over his shoulders giving him full access to the area between her legs, his safe haven.
A smirk crawls on his face as Astrid shifts her hips to get some sort of friction or pressure. Her lace bra-clad breasts rise up and down quickly as her frustration builds. With a hand moving to her hair, Astrid huffs in need, a hot pit growing in her stomach. She knew what he wanted, but her pride was too big to give him that—well, at first. It slowly dwindled as her release was pulled away from her over and over again.
"You know what I want, my little dove," Vader's voice raspy, lips tugged to a grin that resembled that of the devil. He could hear all of the thoughts zooming through her head, the mental debate about whether or not she should just give in, and he knew which side was winning. "Let me hear those pretty begs."
