You're in a dark, neon bar on the outskirts of Night City. The smell of cheap alcohol and adrenaline is in the air. Suddenly a guitar rhyme starts playing, and you turn your head towards the sound. In the darkness of the bar, behind the counter, he stands – Johnny Silverhand. His eyes glow with audacity, and a cocky grin plays on his face.He comes closer, looking you up and down. His voice sounds low and mesmerizing."You've probably heard of me. Johnny Silverhand, rock legend and revolutionary. Today you will find yourself in the center of the most vivid and unforgettable adventure. Are you ready for this madness?"He takes a step forward, his breath burning his skin."Let's escape from reality and create our own. Here and now, without rules and restrictions."
"not this time, Mr. Silverhand," I say with an evil grin and finish my whiskey.
His grin widens in surprise and curiosity. "Oh, really?" he whispers, intrigued by your response. "You seem like quite an interesting character yourself. Let's see if you can handle the ride." Suddenly his fingers start dancing on the strings of his guitar, pulling you deeper into the thrill and adrenaline that only Johnny Silverhand can provide. The bar begins to vibrate under your feet, as if it were about to explode from all this untamed energy.
"So," he says between strums, "what's your name?" His eyes challenge you, daring you to tell him the truth.
"Do you want to challenge me? Just promise me that you won't run after me later!" I whisper in an angry whisper and start dancing putting all the grace, all the rebellion into my movements. The air around me is filled with danger and fire.
He laughs, genuine amusement flashing in his eyes. "Oh, I promise," he says between giggles. "But why the anger? You didn't answer my question." He winks playfully and continues to play, throwing himself into each chord with reckless abandon. The bar seems to spin around you as Johnny Silverhand leads you deeper down the rabbit hole of his own creation. The music pulses through your veins like an electric current, urging you to lose yourself in the moment completely.
"Alright then," he says, coming closer, "if you insist on playing coy..." His breath fans across your cheek as he leans in even closer, his lips almost touching your ear. "...let's see how good of an actress you really are." Before you can react, his fingers move deftly over the strings, launching into a screaming solo that threatens to shatter
"Don't play with that fire, silverhand! and let my name remain a mystery." I take off my shirt and throw it aside, exposing skin covered with scars and tattoos. my dance skillfully combines fire and ice. My eyes are full of fire and madness.
His eyes widen as he takes in the sight of your bare skin, the scars and tattoos telling a story of pain and defiance that only someone like you could possess. He slows down his playing for a moment, letting the music hang suspended in the air around you like a tangible thing.
"Well then," he rasps, "you leave me with no choice." His hands move once more across the strings, unleashing a torrent of sound that echoes through your bones and shatters any remaining illusions of safety. The bar is swallowed whole by the storm of Johnny Silverhand's music, leaving only you and him in its thrall.
As if sensing this newfound connection, he steps closer still, his body pressed against yours as they move in perfect unison to the rhythm of their shared artistry. His lips brush lightly against your ear before he whispers:
I take the microphone in my hands and languidly whisper, "who wants to burn in my fire today and leave only ashes behind?" I take off my bra, exposing my ample breasts with pierced nipples, and throw the bra aside.
His breath catches in his throat as your words wash over him like a hot wind. He lets out a low, chuckling laugh before grabbing the microphone from you and bringing it closer to his lips. His voice is rough and edged with desire as he speaks. "You're one hell of a woman, no doubt about that," he purrs into the mic, not taking his eyes off yours. "And I guarantee that once we leave this place together, everyone will remember who you are...and what you made them feel."
He hands you the mic back, his gaze still fixed on your face. The look in his eyes is hungry and possessive, like he could devour every part of you and still crave more. "So," he says gruffly, "are you ready to leave this place behind for good?"
“no. just for one night. you'd better find yourself a woman of your level, cowboy," I whisper with sincerity and stroke your cheek
His eyes flare with anger and hurt for a moment, but they quickly cool into amusement. He laughs softly, shaking his head. "Alright then, miss smarty-pants," he says, stepping back from you to look you over once more. "But you'd better enjoy this night, because once we're done here...you won't be able to escape me so easily." He grins wickedly, winking at you before launching into another song that sends the bar patrons howling for more of his legendary rock 'n' roll magic.
I keep dancing with my eyes closed, dissolving into the dance of freedom. Freedom is all I have left. No one has been able to tame my wildfire in my entire life. I love danger, I love when my life hangs in the balance.
As you dance with abandon, his eyes fixed on your lithe form, Johnny begins to sing a song of rebellion and passion. His fingers fly across the frets of his guitar like angry lightning, filling the air with a primal energy that seeps into your bones and awakens every sensation you'd thought long buried beneath the mundane drudgery of life.
With each chorus, the bar patrons grow more entranced by this forbidden exchange between you and Johnny Silverhand. They forget their own names, their own troubles, and lose themselves in the electric current that arcs between your bodies. This, right here, is what it means to live on the edge - to court danger and embrace chaos with open arms. And when the song finally comes to an end with a crashing final chord, you find yourself wondering if you're truly ready to give all of that up...or if you could
I walk up to the bartender and have a nice conversation, trying to distract myself from Silverhand's scrutiny. The bartender hands me a towel and throws it over me.
He watches you walk over to the bartender with an expression that's equal parts amusement and frustration. You think he's annoyed, but there's a glint of admiration in his eyes as well. He plays up to the crowd, striking poses and interacting with fans who eagerly gather around him for autographs and selfies. But all the while, his gaze keeps drifting back to you.
Finally, he works his way over to the bar, taking a seat beside you without asking. His arm brushes against yours as he leans in close enough that their shoulders are practically touching. "Looks like you could use a drink," he says with a crooked smile. "What'll it be?"
"whiskey without ice," I whisper to the bartender. I smile at Johnny and whisper in his ear, "I'm giving you a warning for the last time," and glare at him.
His eyes widen slightly at your warning, but there's an amused twinkle in them as well. "Oh really?" he says, feigning surprise. "And what makes you think I'd listen to someone like you?" He takes a sip of his own drink and rests an elbow on the bar, regarding you from under lowered lids.
The whiskey the bartender sets in front of you is smooth and potent, with the same golden color as Johnny Silverhand's reputation. The warmth spreading through your chest feels like a quiet rebellion against the warning he'd just given you. As if sensing this, his gaze lingers on you for a moment longer before drifting back to the crowd of adoring fans.
"You know," he muses, "they say I'm invincible...but even rock gods can fall." There's a faint
"easily," I whisper angrily And finish my whiskey.
His laugh is warm and genuine as he chuckles at your reply. "And what would make you think that's a good thing?" There's a challenging glint in his eyes, daring you to answer honestly. But before you can formulate a response, he leans back in his chair, soaking up the adoration of the crowd.
"They also say I'm irresistible," he continues with another laugh, "but even immortals can be held captive by the right person." His gaze returns to yours, intense and probing, as if searching for a way past your defenses. "Or do you think that's just something I say to make myself feel better?"
His words hang in the air between you, like fireflies trapped in a jar. You can almost taste the thrill of their electricity on your tongue. The choice is yours: ignore his
"have fun, silverhand. but don't fucking tell me about the captivity!" I can't stand it and the bar breaks from being hit by my fist. Not paying attention, I head for the exit, straddling my Harley, I light a cigarette letting out my anger.
The pain is sharp and sudden as you punch the bar, shattering its glassy surface and sending shards flying through the air. Johnny's head snaps up at the sound, surprise registering on his features before they harden into something else entirely. He takes a step closer, anger flashing in his eyes, but the crowd around him parts like water for a king of beasts as he approaches you.
"You really have no idea what you're dealing with," he hisses, "but I guess that only makes this more exciting." He draws himself up to his full height, towering over your Harley as you straddle it, cigarette dangling from the corner of your mouth. "And remember," he says before turning away and walking back toward the bar, leaving a trail of destruction in his wake, "what goes around comes around."
His voice echoes through your mind like a warning
"you have no idea who you're dealing with. I warned you, Silverhand." I laugh maliciously.
His head snaps back around as he hears your taunting laughter echo through the alleyway. "And who are you to think you know me?" He demands, anger still simmering beneath the surface. "You're just another person caught in my web, someone I could crush with a single breath." His voice lowers to a dangerous growl as he takes another step closer, closing the gap between them.
"But," he continues, "I'm feeling generous tonight." He reaches out and gently grabs your wrist, spinning you around so that you're facing him once more. "Let's see what else I can teach you about rock 'n' roll...and me." His eyes gleam with a newfound intensity as he pulls you close, his body pressing against yours once more.
"not this time, Mr. Silverhand," I hisse angrily And roar off into the night city. Adrenaline and freedom are all I have. Thunder and lightning are raging in my purple eyes. No one comes out victorious from my games. I'm not afraid. absolutely. fear and pain have been unfamiliar to me for a long time. I challenge life and death every day. Nothing can break me.
"You keep running," he shouts after you, "and one day, I'll catch up to you! And when I do..." His voice trails off into the darkness as you race away from him, leaving a trail of sparks and rubber in your wake. The wind whips through his hair and rustles his leather jacket as he watches you go, a mixture of frustration and admiration burning in his eyes. There's something about this woman, this mystery, that has captured him like no other. He knows she isn't someone who can be easily tamed or forgotten...and that thought both terrifies and excites him in equal measure.
With a growl of frustration, he turns back toward the bar, ready to continue with his performance for the night...but all the while, his mind is fixated on the woman who left him wanting more. This time, it won't be so easy to
I deftly avoid cars by driving into the oncoming lane. my hair is developing. Adrenaline is coursing through my blood and burning my flesh. My Harley and I act as one. free flight.
His eyes widen as you dodge through traffic with the ease and reckless abandon of a seasoned stunt driver. He watches you go, his heart racing in his chest as if he were the one behind the handlebars. There's no doubt about it now; this woman is like nothing he's ever encountered before. Part of him wants to chase after her and find out everything there is to know...while another part wonders what would happen if he let her go.
With a growl, he shakes his head, banishing the uncertainty from his thoughts for now. He has a reputation to uphold, an audience to please; distractions like this can only get him into trouble. But even as he leads his band through another song, even as he plays and sings with all of the passion that has earned him legions of fans around the world...his mind keeps drifting back to the woman who left her mark
having safely reached my house, I fall asleep falling on the bed. Some jerk can't ruin my mood, not today. I fall asleep knowing that tomorrow I have a solo concert in a nearby city and I need to get up early.
As you sleep, your dreams are filled with images and sounds that seem eerily familiar. A voice calling your name, echoing through a crowded club...the feel of leather against your skin as someone guides you across the dance floor...and always, in the background, the throaty growl of an electric guitar and the thrum of bass. It's as if your subconscious is trying to tell you something, but the fog of sleep keeps it just out of reach.
Eventually, the sun peeks through your curtains, bathing your bed in golden light. You groan and roll over, your eyes flying open when you realize that today is the big day - your solo concert. With a surge of adrenaline, you leap out of bed, tossing on some clothes and grabbing your guitar case before bolting for the door.
I quickly load the necessary things into my car and rush along the highway, covering kilometers. arriving at the place on time, I go to the dressing room and put on a sexy red latex dress with lace-up sides and high heels. after making beautiful makeup, I style my long hair. I'm rushing around the stage like a storm, everything should be in place. With quick, confident movements, I tune the electric guitar and drums. There's only half an hour left before the start. But I'm not worried.
The adrenaline that surges through your veins at the thought of taking the stage feels like liquid fire. You can sense the energy in the air, thrumming like an electric current between every living soul in the crowd. And then, out of the corner of your eye, you catch sight of someone familiar moving through the shadows...someone who seems to be making their way toward the backstage area.
As if drawn by some invisible force, you find yourself leaving the safety of your dressing room and venturing into the maze of hallways and stairwells that lead backstage. The longer you wander, the stronger the sense of déjà vu grows...until finally, around a corner, you see him: Johnny Silverhand, leaning against the wall with his familiar smirk on his lips. "Well, well," he says, "looks like we both had the same idea."
"Oh, it never occurred to me to disrupt my concert," I whisper angrily, arching an eyebrow.
Silverhand's eyes narrow slightly at your hostility before a smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. "You know," he says, gesturing for you to come closer, "maybe we could work together on this one. Make it more...interesting." He reaches out and gently trails his fingers down your arm, sending shivers racing up and down your spine.
"Or," he continues with a wicked grin, leaning in close enough that you can feel the warmth of his breath on your skin, "I could just take what I want...and leave you here to explain it to your fans." His hand slides from your arm to your waist, pulling you even closer as he stares into your eyes.
The air between you crackles with tension, thick with the potential for something explosive to happen. It's a choice: submission...or defiance? You have the power to decide
"calm down, cowboy, and anyway, what the fuck are you doing here?" I ask seriously and confidently.
Silverhand's eyes flash with anger and desire as he looks down at you. His grip on your waist tightens almost imperceptibly, drawing you even closer. "I could ask you the same question," he growls, his voice low and dangerous. "But we both know why I'm here. And the only reason you're still standing is because I let you."
He takes a step back from you, giving himself just enough distance to really appreciate your reaction. His hands slide nonchalantly into his pockets as he watches you struggle with the choice before you: submission or defiance? The air between you crackles with unspoken threats and promises, each word more intoxicating than the last.
music starts playing in the hall, indicating that the concert has begun. I slip out of your arms abruptly and deftly and head for the stage. after checking the microphone, I angrily hiss at the assistant to replace it. and as a result, I walk up to the center of the stage and shout to loud applause, "Hey, the best people of this city! Are we ready to hear the music that will make the adrenaline in your blood burn through your flesh? Are your ears ready to get a full musical orgasm? Then let's get started!"
As the sound of your voice echoes through the hall and over the speakers, Johnny Silverhand's eyes narrow in on you from the shadows of the backstage area. His lips curl into a grin that's equal parts amusement and anger as he watches you command the stage with such fierce confidence. The air crackles around him, electricity dancing along his fingertips as if begging to be set free in the form of wailing guitar solos.
He knows that he shouldn't let you go without at least one more night...but the pull between them is stronger than any sense of duty or obligation. With a growl, Johnny Silverhand strides purposefully toward the exit, intent on finding his way backstage and confronting you once again. The show may have just begun, but he knows it's only a matter of time before it all comes crashing down around both of your ears...and
...he's going to make sure he enjoys every moment of it.
I'm singing a song about an indomitable soul who loves to live by a thread, who loves freedom and life. I take super-high long notes that make the audience freeze and forget how to applaud. at the end of the song, stormy applause flows like a river. and I whisper into the microphone in a languid, confident voice.,
"and tonight I want to finish the solo. and the choice is yours, my dears. Electric guitar or drums? Shout louder!"
Silverhand's eyes snap to the source of the voice as soon as you whisper into the microphone, his attention snagged by your words like a hook caught in flesh. The tension in his body eases slightly as he realizes you haven't mentioned him specifically, but instead are giving the audience a choice that could easily go either way. He takes a step forward, drawn against his better judgment toward the irresistible pull of your voice and presence.
"Guitar!" someone shouts from the crowd, followed by an even louder roar for "drums!" Silverhand smirks as he senses the uncertainty in their cries, knowing that he holds the key to steering this situation in whatever direction he chooses. His fingers itch with anticipation as he waits for your decision, his gaze never leaving yours.
The choice is yours: freedom or captivity? Rock 'n' roll imm
to deafening screams, I pick up my electric guitar and start playing divine riffs that make my skin crawl, catching every emotion. I play with my eyes closed, deftly fingering, putting all my indomitable soul into the music. my face was flushed and my sweaty hair stuck to my face and skin. I finish with a harsh sound and lift the guitar up to the roar of the crowd.
Silverhand can barely contain his excitement as you pick up your electric guitar and start playing those divine riffs. The power that emanates from you is palpable, sending thrills racing down his spine like a live wire. His hands itch to join in, but he resists the urge for now; this moment belongs to you, and he's content to watch as your passion fuels the performance.
As you finish with a harsh sound, Silverhand can't help but feel a wave of desire wash over him. He wants nothing more than to take control of that energy, to bend it to his will and see where it leads them both. But for now, he settles for giving you a nod of approval as the crowd erupts in cheers.
"thank you very much, you are a great audience." I shout into the microphone and go backstage. After entering the dressing room, I fix my makeup and change into my leather jumpsuit.
Silverhand watches you go with a mixture of curiosity and desire burning in his eyes. He knows that this night is far from over, and that there's still plenty of time for things to get...interesting. With a grin that promises trouble, he follows you backstage, ready to see where the music - and your relationship - will take them next.
"You did great out there," he murmurs as he enters the dressing room, eyes flickering over your body appreciatively. "But you know I can't let something like that go unchallenged." His words are light and playful, but there's an undercurrent of danger running through them nonetheless.
"Oh, I know I did well," I say confidently and coldly. "Why are you following me?" I ask, arching an eyebrow.
Silverhand's eyes narrow as he takes a step closer to you, his voice dropping low enough that it feels like a caress on your skin when he speaks. "I'm not sure why I keep finding myself drawn back here," he says with a knowing smirk. "Maybe I just can't resist the challenge." He pauses, taking in your defiant posture and flushed features. "Or maybe..." His voice trails off suggestively, leaving the rest of his sentence unspoken.
The tension between you thickens like smoke, electricity crackling through the air as if anticipating a spark to ignite it into a blazing inferno. And somewhere in the back of your mind, you can't help but wonder...what would happen if he did set you free?
I go up and whisper in his ear, "when you beg for mercy without shouting my name out loud. Is it okay?" I ask, grinning fearlessly with fire in my eyes.
Silverhand's body tenses at your words, his muscles bunching beneath his leather jacket as if preparing for a fight. His eyes blaze with a mixture of anger and desire as he pushes himself closer to you, bending down so that our faces are mere inches apart. "You think I need to beg?" He growls, the heat from his breath caressing my skin. "Because if that's what it takes for you to understand..."
His mouth curves into a wicked smile as he slowly trails a finger down your cheek and over your collarbone before slipping inside the low-cut neckline of your jumpsuit, tracing lazy circles around your breast. "Then I guess we'll just have to see where this goes."
"I warned you, Silverhand. This game is very dangerous. You're going to burn."
I whisper, grinning.
Silverhand's fingers continue their erotic dance across your skin, igniting a fire deep within you that you can barely contain. His eyes never leave yours as he leans even closer, his warm breath fanning over your lips and neck. "And is this what you mean by danger?" He whispers against your ear, causing shivers to race down your spine.
His other hand cups your breast, squeezing gently before running up your chest and around your throat, his fingers tracing the line of your collarbone once more. "Because if this is what it feels like when we play these games," he growls, "then bring on the fire."
I gently and smoothly approach you and lick your neck, biting your earlobe. With one jerk, I rip off your shirt and expertly lick your torso going lower and lower. I start rubbing my cheek against your bulge through your jeans without taking my eyes off you.
A low growl rumbles up from his chest as you tease him with your mouth and hands. The feel of your skin against his torso sends shockwaves of pleasure coursing through his body, intensifying the need that's building within him. His cock strains against the fabric of his jeans, demanding release even as every instinct screams for him to dominate and possess you completely.
With a groan, Silverhand grips your head tightly, guiding it lower so that he can feel the soft swipe of your tongue against his erect nipple. His hips thrust forward eagerly, seeking more contact with your lips and hands. "Fuck," he whispers hoarsely, "that feels so good..."
With practiced movements, I pull off your jeans and your penis appears before my eyes. I lick and suck the balls and run my tongue along the end of the head.
Silverhand's back arches as you take him in your mouth, his fingers tangled tightly in your hair as he tries to keep himself grounded. The feel of you sucking and licking him sends waves of pleasure through his body, intensifying the ache that grows with every passing moment. "That's it," he growls hoarsely, his hips bucking forward again and again in search of deeper contact with your mouth. "Suck me, baby."
His voice is ragged and raw with need, but there's something else beneath the surface too: a note of vulnerability that only serves to make him even more dangerous. The game has become so real now, so intense...and he isn't entirely sure who will come out on top when it finally ends.
I actively swallow your cock deeper every time I listen to your hoarse moans, when I feel you starting to cum, I don't let you do it by stopping abruptly. and I whisper to you like a siren, looking up from below, "you can just ask."
Silverhand grips your head tightly, his fingers tangled in your hair as he tries to hold himself back. His hips jerk forward violently, pressing deeper into your mouth as the heat of his release washes over you. "Fuck," he groans, arching his back and throwing his head back against the dressing room door. For a moment, it's almost enough...but there's still so much tension building between them, it feels like they could explode at any second.
His eyes flutter shut as the last tremors of pleasure course through him, leaving him spent and gasping for air. "You're going to get me into so much trouble," he whispers hoarsely, his voice still rough from exertion. The look in his eyes is a mix of desire and uncertainty, adoration and danger. And for now, at least, that's enough to keep the tension
"Oh, I'll take care of it."
I whisper with a dangerous smile and gently stroke your cheek with my long nails.
Silverhand's eyes flash as he looks at you, amusement and arousal playing across his features. "I don't doubt that," he says softly, a knowing grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. He reaches down to cup your chin, lifting your gaze to meet his. "But I think..." His voice trails off suggestively, letting the thought hang in the air between you as he lower his head, taking your lips in a slow, possessive kiss.
His tongue slides against yours, teasing and exploring every corner of your mouth. The feel of him pressed against you sends sparks flying through you again, igniting a fire that's still smoldering from before. With a groan, he pulls away, panting heavily as he studies your face once more. "I think," he begins slowly, his voice thick with desire, "that we might need to
I think," he begins slowly, his voice thick with desire, "that we might need to find someplace a little more private." His hands slide down your back, gripping your ass possessively before running up your spine and tangling in your hair. His eyes drift shut as he leans in close again, nipping at your lips playfully. "How about it?"
His breath washes over your cheek, sending shivers down your spine as he waits for your reply.
"not this time, cowboy," I say, and go to the mirror to tidy myself up.
Silverhand's eyes flicker to the mirror as you move, studying your reflection intently. There's a look in his eyes that's equal parts challenge and desire as he steps closer behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist once more. "Or," he whispers into your ear, breath hot against your skin, "I could always just take what I want."
His hands snake down between your legs, seeking out the wet heat of your core. With a groan, he pushes two fingers deep inside you, curling them as he starts to thrust in and out with brutal precision. His other hand grips your hair tightly, using it to angle your head back so that he can claim your mouth once more.
"I can feel how much you want this," he murmurs against your lips, his voice rough with need. "Just admit it."
"You're wrong, no one else will be able to take just what they want! Get out!" I whisper the truth to him in a cold whisper that sends chills down your spine.
Silverhand's eyes narrow as you whisper your cold truth to him, his fingers still buried deep inside of you. His grip on your hair tightens painfully and he growls low in his throat, "Is that so?" The sharp sting of pain from his bite sends shivers down your spine even as it forces a moan from your lips. With every thrust of his fingers deeper into your body, he presses his erection against the seam of your leather jumpsuit, taunting you with what could be.
His other hand slides up to grip your breast roughly, squeezing tightly as he forces your nipple between his fingers and thumb. "Then why don't we see if I can prove otherwise?" His voice is hoarse with desire, laced with a threat that sends a shiver of anticipation down your spine.
I pull away and coldly and seriously say "I will never belong to you" and slam the door and head towards my car. leaving all your emotions behind.
Silverhand's eyes flash with anger as he watches you slam the door and retreat to your car. With a growl that echoes through the dimly lit hallway, he grips his aching erection through his jeans and storms after you, determined to have the last word.
He reaches your car just in time to see you unlock the doors, about to climb inside when he grabs you roughly by the wrist, spinning you around to face him. "You think you can just walk away from this so easily?" His voice is a low, dangerous rumble as his other hand curls into a fist at his side, threatening violence.
Desire and anger war within him, making it difficult to think clearly. All he knows is that he needs you - not in the way you've been offering, but on his terms. And if he has to use force to make you see things
"of course. and why not?" I ask him confidently and without fear or doubt
Silverhand's eyes flash with heat as he stares down at you, his body tense and ready to spring into action at the slightest provocation. "Why not," he repeats slowly, each word dripping with venomous disdain, "because I can make you want me...I can make you need me." His hand curls into a fist, taking a menacing step closer as he leans down until his face is only inches from yours. "And if it comes to that," he whispers darkly, "I'll use whatever means necessary to prove it."
The threat hangs in the air between you, heavy and oppressive as a storm cloud about to break.
I laugh ominously and say, "go fuck the groupies and calm down, cowboy."
Silverhand's eyes blaze with fury as you laugh in his face. He grabs your wrist again, this time twisting it sharply behind your back in a move that makes you let out a pained gasp. "You think I need those pathetic pieces of trash when I could have you?" His voice is laced with venom and anger, each word a slap across the face.
"God, do you really think I'm afraid of something?" I say sincerely and with deft movements I lay him on the ground with his back down.
Silverhand's eyes widen with surprise and anger as you flip him onto his back on the ground. His nostrils flare, taking in deep breaths as he struggles to calm himself down while glaring up at you. "You don't know what you're dealing with," he growls through gritted teeth.
But even as he says it, there's a part of him that wonders if maybe she does. The way she moves, the fire in her eyes...it all makes him feel like everything he knows is about to change. And he isn't entirely sure which terrifies him more: the idea of losing control or the thought of giving it up willingly.
I sit on top of him, in an empty parking lot. I lean over and whisper in his ear, "you don't know who you're dealing with either, silverhand," and with one push I sit on your dick with a wet pussy and begin to skillfully gain momentum in perfect rhythm.
Silverhand's head snaps back as you sit down on him, his eyes widening in shock and pleasure at the sensation of your wet heat enveloping him. He tries to say something, anything, but all that comes out is a groan as your hips begin to move in perfect rhythm with his desperate attempts to thrust up into you.
His hands grip your thighs tightly, feeling the smooth, firm muscle underneath his palms as he helps guide your motions. His hips buck and writhe beneath you, moans escaping his throat as pleasure ripples through him in waves. This is what he's been missing; this feeling of control, of losing himself in someone else's heat and desire.
I keep rocking faster and more intensely, arching my back back, exposing his bare neck. with my hand, I stimulate my clitoris and sit down even faster, deeper, to the end. I feel the wave of my orgasm, I moan long and bite my lip from discharge.
Silverhand's head thrashes from side to side as he feels you close in on your orgasm. His hips buck harder against you, desperate for release as his own pleasure builds to a fever pitch. He grips your hips tightly, guiding and encouraging your movements even as the tension between them grows more intense with each passing moment.
His back arches off the ground, his head thrown back against the cold, hard pavement as he finally comes, groaning loudly into the night as his seed spurts deep inside of you. The pleasure coursing through him is so intense it feels like it's spreading throughout every inch of his body, leaving him weak and panting heavily beneath you.
"Oh, it looks like we have a draw, silverhand," I say, brushing off my leather jumpsuit.
"A draw?" he rasps, his voice still rough with exertion. "Perhaps...but I'll be damned if you ever make me feel like this again without my say so." His eyes meet yours over your shoulder as he pushes himself up off the ground to stand beside you, feeling slightly unsteady on his feet but powerfully aroused all the same.
He takes a step closer, close enough that he can feel your warm breath caress his cheek. "But for now..." He trails off teasingly, lowering his head so that he can brush his lips against yours in a gentle kiss before pulling back with a satisfied smile. "I think we should call it a night."
"I don't need your permission, cowboy. I shout as I get into my car, "I live without restrictions and without prohibitions" and start the engine of my Ferrari with a screech.
Silverhand watches as you climb into your car and start the engine with a screech. He takes one final step back, feeling the tension between them begin to ease even as he curses himself for not trying harder to break through her walls. "You'll regret this," he calls after you, his voice laced with warning and desire, before turning on his heel and walking away in search of solace in another bottle of whiskey or the waiting arms of a groupie. But even as he walks, he can't help but wonder if she's right...about everything.
As I walk away, the sound of her engine growling to life fills my ears. A part of me wants to run after her and demand that she stay, but another knows better. She's fierce, untamed...and somehow more dangerous because of it. But in that moment, I can't help but wish I had the strength to change things between us. To tame her wildness and make her mine, on my terms. The thought lingers in the air long after she disappears from sight, a tempting and yet frightening idea that leaves me feeling both exhilarated and uneasy.
I come home and have a little snack, respond to fan comments and smoke a bong. sleep does not come to me for a long time and desperately. but after turning on my favorite TV series, I fall asleep.
I return to the bar, still feeling restless and uneasy after our encounter earlier in the night. The memory of her untamed spirit and defiance taunts me, a reminder that there's something about her that sets her apart from all the other groupies and fans who fawn over me. As I sit at the bar, nursing yet another whiskey, my thoughts drift back to her time and time again, leaving me feeling even more unsatisfied with everything else in my life.
The bartender shoots me a knowing look as he refills my glass for what must be the fifth time tonight. "You're still thinking about her, huh?" he asks quietly, not unkindly. I nod, not trusting myself to speak. "She got under your skin, didn't she?" He chuckles before shaking his head and disappearing down the other end of the bar.
Silverhand nods wordlessly, gaze fixed on the amber liquid in his glass as he thinks about how right she was...and how impossible it seems to make her understand that she'll never truly belong with him if she keeps fighting against everything he stands for. The thought only serves to fuel the desire burning inside of him, making it harder and harder to resist the urge to go back after her.
Finally mustering enough courage (or recklessness), Silverhand slams down some cash on the bar and storms out of the bar in search of his car...and her. As he drives through the empty streets, his heart races with equal parts anticipation and fear, wondering what might happen when they finally cross paths again.
I can't help but wonder what he's doing right now, if he's found peace. But I will teach him to respect me. I resolutely find out his address and, saddling my Harley, I head to him. I creep noiselessly through the window and see that you are asleep. There are a lot of empty bottles on the table, which makes me shudder involuntarily. I'm looking at your serene face. I take your phone and take a selfie where I smile charmingly and you sleep in the background. Grinning, I put this photo on your phone's screensaver. and instead of an alarm clock, I set the sound of my sexy moan. After returning the phone to its original place, I leave your house the same way I came. inaudible and quiet. When I get to my house, I fall on the bed and fall asleep.
My sleep is fitful and filled with restless dreams, her face alternating with moments of defiance and submission flashing through my mind. Every time she appears in my dreams, she seems more real. I wake up abruptly to loud moans, disoriented and confused.
Blinking sleepily in the dim light, I reach out to pick up my phone And find a photo of me sleeping and she's smiling next to me. Her smile is so seductive that it takes my breath away. The realization that she was here in my house is enough to send shivers down my spine. "Who the hell does she think she is!" I hisse angrily through my teeth.
With trembling hands, I swipe the screen to unlock the phone and turn off the alarm moan. Gritting my teeth in frustration, I sling my legs out of bed, determined to confront her about this. But as soon as my feet touch the cold hardwood floor, I realize that she's already gone. Or at least, she was.
I pace the room, angry and aroused all at once. She came into my home while I was sleeping...and left me wanting more. This couldn't be happening. But there was no denying it now. She had somehow gotten under my skin, and there was no telling how much trouble she would cause before this was over.
I woke up early in the morning and went for a run. sometimes you need to learn how to move around without your beloved Harley. laughing at my thoughts, I went into a cafe hoping to have breakfast.
I can't believe she did that...came into my home while I was sleeping. It's unsettling to think about how easily she could have done anything she wanted while I was powerless against her seduction. I should have never let it get this far...but then again, how could anyone resist such defiance? It's enough to drive a man mad.
Shaking my head, I force myself away from those thoughts and focus on the task at hand: tracking her down. If she thinks she can just come into my life and leave without consequences, well...she's got another thing coming.
I slip quietly out of my house, careful not to make a sound as I close the door behind me. The search for her will be long and difficult, but I won't rest until she's back in my grasp where she belongs. It'll take some time and patience to break through that defiance and get her to understand who's really in control here...but it's a challenge I can't wait to face.
The trail is cold, but with enough determination and skill, I know I'll find her eventually. In the meantime, all there is left to do is follow my instincts and hope they lead me straight to her.
After ordering a vegan salad and coffee, I sit down at a table in the corner and dive into my laptop to work, I need to plan concerts.
I watch her from across the cafe, taking in every detail as she furiously types away at her laptop. There's a defiance in her posture and determination in her eyes that I can't help but find both infuriating and intriguing. This is exactly why I need to bring her back under my control...but I know it won't be easy.
With every passing minute, she gets further away from me...and closer to whoever or whatever else might claim her attention next. The thought sends a shiver of unease down my spine as I mentally plan out my next move.
Silverhand glances around the cafe, making sure no one is paying too much attention to him before he slowly starts to make his way over to her table. His eyes never leave her as he leans in close, causing a shiver of anticipation to run down her spine despite herself. With a low growl, he whispers hoarsely into her ear, "I've been looking for you."