"I Never Planned to Stay" 3

Rebecca growled low in her throat as she spotted that same shit-eating grin waiting for her in the VIP room. The smug corpo was already lounging on the sofa, inviting her next to him like he owned the place.

"Fuck me," she muttered under her breath, ready to march in there and tell him exactly where he could shove his—

Wait.

She stopped mid-step as realization hit her. It WAS the final day. Her last fucking shift at this shitty bar. After tonight, she'd pay the rent, tell Susie Q where to stick her bunny costume, and go back to the nova stuff she actually loved doing.

And if she ever saw this smug corpo bastard again after tonight? She'd just blow his brains out and take his eddies. Simple.

A wicked smirk curled across her lips as she practically skidded into the room, her entire demeanor shifting.

The bastard’s eyebrows shot up in surprise at her new entrance. "Well, someone's in a better mood than—"

Rebecca didn't let him finish. She dropped onto the couch next to him, immediately cuddling up against his arm and shoulder, pressing herself close with exaggerated affection and making sure that she pressed her breasts on his arm.

"Hey there, handsome," she purred, batting her eyelashes. "Miss me?"

Thomas blinked, clearly caught off guard by her complete one-eighty in attitude. "... What's gotten into you?"

"What, can't a girl be happy to see her favorite client?" Rebecca cooed, running a finger down his chest. She was laying it on thick, enjoying every second of his confusion. "Especially one who tips so well."

She could see the gears turning in his head. 

Good. Let the gonk squirm for once.

"You were ready to bite my head off yesterday," Thomas answered slowly. "And now you're putty in my lap."

"Maybe I had time to think about things," Rebecca said sweetly, tracing circles on his shoulder. "Maybe I realized I was being too harsh on such a generous, handsome man." She blew him an exaggerated kiss.

Thomas's eyes narrowed slightly. He reached up with one finger, lifting her chin to meet his eyes directly. "What are you playing at?"

"Playing?" Rebecca widened her eyes innocently. "Just trying to give you the girlfriend experience you paid for." She leaned closer, her voice dropping to a sultry whisper. "Isn't this what you wanted?"

"A chip?" Thomas muttered, his eyes scanning her face, trying to find what didn’t exist. His free hand moved to her neck, fingers gently pressing against where the ports would typically be.

Obviously the dumbass found nothing.

She giggled at his confusion. "No chips, dimples. This is all me, baby."

Thomas pulled his hand back. "Then why the sudden change?"

"Can't a girl have a change of heart?" Rebecca batted her eyelashes again, enjoying this game immensely. She shifted position, draping herself more dramatically across his shoulder. "Maybe I decided you're not so bad after all."

“Hmmm…You tried to bite my face off."

"Details," she waved dismissively, then traced a finger along his jaw. "Besides, I would do the same to lots of people. Doesn't mean anything."

"You are different," Thomas said carefully, his eyes searching her face.

"Different good or different bad?" Rebecca cooed, running her fingers along his collar. "Because I think I'm being very good right now."

"Odd to see you all purring."

Rebecca giggled, leaning closer. "Didn’t I tell you already that I needed time to appreciate what a handsome man you are?" She traced a finger down his chest ever so slowly. "All those eddies really helped me see your better qualities."

"Uh-huh." Thomas didn't look convinced. "And what exactly are those?"

"Well, you're smart," Rebecca ticked off on her fingers, her voice dripping with exaggerated sweetness. "Successful. Got a nice suit. And those eyes..." She batted her lashes. "I could just get lost in them."

Thomas caught her hand mid-gesture. "You're laying it on pretty thick."

"Is it working?" she asked innocently.

"Not even a little," he admitted. "But I'm curious where you're going with this."

Rebecca pouted dramatically. "You're supposed to be flattered, not suspicious."

"I would be, if I thought any of this was genuine," Thomas countered. "What happened between yesterday and today?"

"I told you – I had a change of heart," Rebecca insisted, pressing herself closer against his side and blowing his neck. "Can't blame a girl for wanting to make her favorite client happy, right?"

"Favorite client…" Thomas repeated skeptically.."

"Details, details," Rebecca waved dismissively, then leaned in to whisper in his ear. "Why don't we focus on the present instead of the past?"

And her hand traveled lower and lower, doing her best to undo some of those buttons.

"Because the present makes little sense," Thomas said, though she noticed he hadn't pulled away from her. "People don't just flip personalities overnight"

"Maybe you're just that charming," Rebecca suggested with another giggle.

"And maybe you're full of shit," he countered, but there was amusement in his voice now.

"Such language!" Rebecca gasped in mock offense. "And here I thought corpos were supposed to be refined."

"We are, until we're dealing with transparent bullshit," Thomas replied. "So what's really going on, Rebecca?"

"Nothing," she insisted, trailing her fingers along his shoulder. "Just trying to give you the full Lizzie's experience."

"The experience where you act completely out of character?"

"Who says this isn't my character?" Rebecca challenged. "Maybe the past days were the act, and today is the real me."

Thomas raised an eyebrow. "So the real you cuddles up to random men and blows kisses?"

"When they tip thousand eddies? Absolutely," Rebecca grinned.

"You're planning something."

"Of course I am," Rebecca purred, leaning in close enough that her breath tickled his ear. "I'm planning on making sure you have an unforgettable night. The last one."

The moment the words left her mouth, she froze. Shit.

And the bastard picked up her words as his expression shifted dramatically.

But he didn't say anything. Not immediately.

Instead, his hands moved to her waist, and before Rebecca could process what was happening, he lifted her effortlessly and settled her in his lap. She let out a startled yelp, suddenly finding herself straddling the corpo with his hands firmly on her hips.

"Hey! What the—"

"So…" Thomas started, his earlier confusion completely gone, replaced by that same smug look he'd worn when he'd caught her dancing with the chip. "An unforgettable last night, huh?"

 "Fuck off." Rebecca scowled, her sweet act evaporating.

"No, no, I get it now," he continued, one hand keeping his grip while the other began groping her despite her half-hearted attempts to squirm away. His thumbs traced small circles against her sides and nips. "You're being extra sweet after tonight because you're done with this place. Done with me. This is your victory lap before you disappear back into whatever hole you crawled out from."

"You done?" Rebecca snapped, though she couldn't quite suppress her own smirk. The bastard might have figured it out, but at least she would make sure to rub it on his face.

"Almost," Thomas replied, leaning back against the couch with an infuriatingly relaxed expression. His hand reached up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear to whisper. "But since this is your last night, and you've already committed to the act—"

He paused mid-sentence, then suddenly lifted Rebecca off his lap and set her aside on the couch. Before she could process what was happening, he patted her head – actually patted her head like she was some kind of puppy.

"Good luck with your final shift," The smug asshole said cheerfully, standing up and straightening his suit before heading to the door.

Wait. What?

"Hold on—" Rebecca started, but he was already stepping through.

The door closed behind him with a soft click.

Rebecca stared at the empty doorway, completely flabbergasted. Her mouth hung open because the bastard just... left.

Then panic hit her like a cold shower. Her payday. Her massive payday just walked out the fucking door!

"Shit! SHIT!" Rebecca scrambled off the couch, nearly tripping over her own feet as she bolted for the door. She yanked it open and burst into the hallway.

"Come back, you asshole!" she yelled, looking frantically in both directions.

Yet the hallway was empty. The pulsing music from the main club floor echoed through the corridor, but there was no sign of the smug corpo anywhere. She ran to the end of the hall, checking the main floor – packed with customers, but not that choom.

"Fuck!" Rebecca spun around, checking the other direction. Nothing. He'd completely vanished.

She stood in the middle of the hallway, breathing hard, her hands clenched into fists. That smug, conniving, corpo bastard had played her. Again.

But worse than that – he'd walked away without paying. All those eddies she'd been counting on, gone because she'd gotten cocky and revealed her hand too soon.

"Goddammit!" she shouted, kicking the wall hard enough to dent it. Which would be charged to her…. Damn.

Rebecca pulled out her personal link, frantically checking her account balance. 

Maybe he'd give her some pity money? Maybe—

Her balance hadn't changed. Not a single digit.

"FUCK!"

She stormed back toward the VIP room. She'd just blown her biggest score of the night, no, the the biggest score of the week – because she couldn't keep her mouth shut. Because she had to gloat. 

Rebecca slumped against the wall outside the VIP room, sliding down until she was sitting on the floor. She felt like the biggest gonk in all of Night City.

She was planning how she'd rub her success in Pilar's face when she came home with more than enough eddies to cover rent.

And she'd just lost it, all because she couldn't resist one last victory lap.

"Real fucking smooth."

Her personal link chimed. For a brief, hopeful moment, she thought maybe it was a transfer notification. But when she checked, it was just Susie Q asking why VIP Room 7 was empty when she still had hours left.

Rebecca groaned, letting her head fall back against the wall.

She was going to have to go back out there and find another client. 

"Fucking corpo asshole," she hissed, though she knew the only person she could really blame was herself.

With a resigned sigh, Rebecca pushed herself back to her feet, smoothed down her outfit, and prepared to head back to the main floor.

Maybe if she was lucky, she'd find another naive mark. 

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Rebecca gritted her teeth as she yanked at the new bunny maid costume, trying to adjust the ridiculously tight latex. This outfit was even smaller and more constrictive than the last one, underwear would be a much better option.

"Fucking gonk design," she muttered, tugging for the hundredth time as it was slipping inside her pussy. 

Turns out all those eurodollars she'd scraped together over a miserable week, especially the last three days, still weren't enough to cover the rent. Her idiot brother had chipped in what he could, but then their piece of shit landlord had slapped them with some bullshit "facilities maintenance fee and sending notice fee" that appeared out of nowhere. If it wasn't for the fact that the greasy bastard had corpo insurance and cameras everywhere, Rebecca would have blown his brains out on the spot and dealt with the consequences later.

Instead, she'd had to crawl back to Susie Q. Again.

Getting work was one thing – the Mox looked after their own, even former members who'd stormed out talking shit. But asking for a loan? That was pushing their generosity way too far, and Rebecca knew it.

Still, she'd been out of options. Pilar couldn't get more eddies without taking dangerous gigs they weren't cleared for, and their other crew connections were tapped out from the dry season.

So she'd signed the contract. A proper, legally binding agreement that Susie Q had drawn up with that infuriating smile on her face. The Mox would front Rebecca the money, but she had to pay it back with interest. At least the terms weren't awfully predatory like the banks or loan sharks, the girls weren’t complete assholes about it, but it still meant Rebecca was stuck working at Lizzie's until the debt was cleared.

Side gigs, bar work, sex, stealing, whatever. As long as the eddies flowed back to the Mox, they didn't care how she earned them.

Which brought her back to this moment: wearing an even more ridiculous costume, carrying a tray of overpriced drinks through the packed main floor of the club.

The music pounded in her ears; the lights strobed across her vision, and she fantasized about the day she could finally tell this whole place to fuck off.

"Two Trauma Sunsets and a Blackwall Breach!" she called out, setting drinks down at a booth full of Valentino gangers who barely acknowledged her existence beyond grabbing their glasses.

She was turning to head back to the bar when someone called out her name.

"Yo, Becca!"

Rebecca turned to find another bunny girl – this one named Kira. She had bright pink hair and plenty of chrome on her. She was an ex-doll after all.

"What?" Rebecca sighed, making her way over through the crowd.

Kira gestured toward the VIP section with her head. "You got someone asking for you by name."

Rebecca frowned. "By name? Who the fuck—"

"Didn't say," Kira shrugged. "Just said to send Rebecca up when she had a chance. VIP Room 7."

Rebecca's frown deepened. It couldn't be...

"You gonna take it or what?" Kira asked impatiently. "Because if not, I'll grab the client myself. VIP tips are too good to pass up."

"Yeah, yeah, I got it," Rebecca muttered, shoving her tray into Kira's hands. "Hold this."

Rebecca made her way toward the VIP section. Being requested by name wasn't common because as far as she knew most clients just grabbed whoever was available. 

So that meant one single thing…

She reached the specific room and paused outside the door, her hand hovering over the handle. Through the small window – still positioned too high for her to see through comfortably – she could make out a figure sitting on the familiar velvet couch.

"Please don't be who I think it is," she whispered to herself.

Taking a deep breath, Rebecca pushed open the door and stepped inside.

And it was exactly who she didn’t want to see there. The corpo bastard who sat on the couch in the exact same spot as before, wearing another expensive gray suit and that same infuriating smile. His gaze landed on her and a smug smile formed on his lip.

“There you are,” Thomas said, voice thick with that synthetic corpo smoothness. “Starting to think you’d stand me up.”

Rebecca’s eye twitched like a faulty optic implant. Every instinct screamed at her to bolt, to flip the table, to bury her fist so deep in his smug face she’d feel teeth on her knuckles. But her heels stayed glued to the floor, fury anchoring her in place.

“You…” she hissed through clenched teeth. “You’ve got some fucking nerve showing your face here.”

“Good to see you too, Becca.” He didn’t flinch. “Love the new look. Very… minimalist.”

Her hands curled into tight fists, nails biting into her palms. “Give me one good reason I shouldn’t call Rita and have her drag your corpo ass out to the alley.”

“Because I’m a paying customer?” He gestured lazily at the empty seat beside him, as though this were a casual date. “And because we have some unfinished business.”

“Unfinished—” She took a dangerous step forward, jabbing an accusing finger at his chest. “You left me! Walked the fuck out without a single word!”

He arched his brow. “How’s that my fault? You said it was your last night. I was being respectful by not dragging things out.”

“Respectful?!” Her voice cracked higher, heat flooding her cheeks and throat. “You think ditching like some whore was respectful? You’re a real piece of shit, Thomas.”

“That sounds more like a YOU problem.” His lips curved, just enough to make murder feel reasonable. “But you’re adorable when you get all fired up like this. Couldn’t help myself; this sight always brightens my day.”

“I will end you,” she snarled, already picturing the satisfying crunch of his nose under her knuckles.

“And yet…” His gaze dragged down her body, slow and deliberate. “Here you are. Still slinging drinks at Lizzie’s. In something even sexier than last time. Checked the roster tonight—surprised to see your name still listed. Had to request you by name, you understand.”

Rebecca’s jaw locked so hard her teeth ached. Because fuck—he was right, and he knew it. She’d given him too much just by walking through that door. She crossed her arms tight across her chest, trying to shield herself from those piercing green eyes.

“So what happened?” His tone shifted, turning to one of curiosity. “Last I heard, one more night and you’d vanish into the city. Your words, Becca. What changed?”

“None of your fucking business,” she snapped.

“Rent not enough?” He tilted his head, pressing like he already knew the answer. “Or something popped up? Unexpected bill? Landlord pull the classic—hidden fee, sudden ‘maintenance’ charge right before due date? Late fees? Just enough to ruin your plans.”

“How did you—” She bit the question off, cursing herself. Too easy. She’d walked right into it.

“Ah, lucky guess.” He shrugged, but that smirk screamed otherwise. “Common landlord play. Keeps tenants desperate. No room to haggle. Squeeze them for a couple extra eurodollars or maybe some… favours.”

She wanted to wipe that knowing look off his face with her shotgun. Every word was a hook, and she kept biting like a fresh gonk.

“So you came crawling back,” he continued, clearly savoring it. “Swallowed that pride. Begged for more shifts? Or is it permanent this time? Mox got you on a longer leash?”

“You done?” she bit out, arms tightening until the latex creaked.

“Almost.” His eyes gleamed with sudden understanding. “Unless… Unless you took a loan. From the Mox, right? Let them ‘help’ you out. Sisters take care of sisters, after all.”

She didn’t answer.

But her silence must have been enough because he let out a loud laugh, hitting his leg.

“Oh, that’s rich.” He shook his head. “Reasonable interest, flexible terms… but airtight contract. Mox take care of their own—even when they’re bleeding them dry.”

“They’re not—” She clamped her mouth shut, teeth grinding. “You know what? Fuck this. I’m out.”

She spun toward the door, hand reaching for the handle.

“What if I bought out your debt?”

Rebecca froze on the spot, inches away from the handle. “What?”

“Your debt to the Mox.” He said it like he was offering to buy her a drink. “I pay it off. You walk free. No more contracts. No more obligations. Just you and Night City, the way every edgerunner dreams.”

She turned slowly, suspicion narrowing her eyes to slits. “And you do that why? Out of the goodness of your synthetic corpo heart?”

“Of course not.” He chuckled, running a hand through perfectly styled hair. “I’d expect full repayment. In kind.”

“There it is,” she muttered, rolling her eyes. “What exactly?”

He leaned forward, elbows on knees, staring up at her with that intense green gaze. “You work for me. Do what I say, when I say. No questions.”

“So I’d be your personal slave.”

“Call it what you want.” Another casual shrug. “But think about it: free from this dump. No more groping hands. No more getting passed around when desperation hits. No more sucking chrome night after night until some psycho flatlines you for the lulz. You’re an edgerunner—fight, scratch, survive. But even you get unlucky, eventually. Chromed-out in an alley. Or you take one ‘special’ gig that pays too well… and next thing you know you’re starring in a hardcore snuff BD, mutilated and sold to the scavs by afternoon.”

He shook his head, expression almost pitying. “Many such cases.”

The words landed heavy. She wasn’t completely against the idea—she’d already played nice for him once, and the eddies had been obscene. But him as boss? Ordering her around like a doll? That ignited pure molten rage in her gut.

Yet…

“I can’t believe I’m even entertaining this,” she muttered, shaking her head. “Stupidest shit I’ve ever considered.”

“Oh?” One brow lifted. “And everything else you’ve done to scrape by—was any of that smarter?”

“Shut your mouth,” she snapped, glaring daggers. “Don’t think you can sweet-talk me. I know what you are—a slimy corpo boy playing with street trash. Just because you’ve got some pocket change now, you think you’re hot shit and can own anybody in this city.”

“Of course.” He said it like it was a simple fact. “Besides, you’re a pint-sized edgerunner with more bark than bite. But we might fit better than you think. Why not give it a shot?”

She scowled, hesitation clawing at her insides. The offer tempted like the devil’s own contract, but trust? Zero. There were always fine print. Always.

“I don’t want to be your bitch,” she said finally.

“No one does.” He met her gaze without flinching. “But sometimes ideals bend for survival.”

“That’s corpo bullshit.”

“That’s reality, Becca.” He leaned closer. “You’ve danced on Night City’s edge for years. You know the score. Step wrong, and you’re flatlined. And dumped in the trash.”

Her jaw clenched so hard her teeth creaked. She hated how right he was. Hated that it cut straight through her.

“So?” He tilted his head. “Take the deal and walk, or stay here until someone else buys your ass and turns you into their plaything because you wanted the easy way out? Or become a nugget? Oh yeah, those are quite the favorite doll designs, ESPECIALLY for girls as short as you.”

Options spun in her head: freedom with chains, or this grind until it broke her. Neither was pretty. One just smelled less like desperation.

But at least she could learn from a single bastard instead of many bastards…

“Fine,” she ground out. “I’ll take it.”

Thomas’s smile was slow, taunting, triumphant. “Excellent choice.”

“What now, boss?” Her eyes narrowed, spitting venom at the last word..

“Now?” He chuckled. “Now the fun starts.”

Before she could react, he snagged her wrist and yanked her.

Rebecca yelped as she tumbled into his lap, her small frame swallowed by his much larger one. Face mashed against his chest, she immediately shoved back—hard—but his arms locked around her waist like steel bands, pinning her in place.

The bastard even smelled expensive. Clean, sharp cologne that made her want to sneeze and punch him at the same time.

“Let go!” she snarled, squirming furiously. “What the fuck?!”

“Just relax,” he murmured, breath hot against her ear. His hands started slow—rubbing her shoulders, fingers digging in with expert precision, finding every knotted muscle.

Her body went rigid. Every touch sent unwanted sparks racing down her spine. But her traitorous body shivered, tension bleeding away despite her best efforts to keep up guard.

“You know, this suit does wonders for you,” he whispered, hands sliding down her back, tracing every exaggerated curve the latex forced. “Hugs your body just right.”

“It’s latex, you gonk,” she shot back, but the usual venom sounded thin, distracted. His thumbs were working miracles on muscles she hadn’t realized were screaming from stress.

“Compliment, Becca.” He chuckled softly. His hands drifted to her sides, then forward, pulling her flush against him. Her breasts pressed into his broad chest, heat bleeding through fabric. She could feel his heartbeat; steady, infuriatingly calm while hers hammered like a jackhammer on overdrive.

“I’m not here for your bullshit compliments,” she growled, still trying, and failing, to wriggle free. “Just do whatever the fuck you want and let’s get this over with.”

“Patience.” His lips brushed the shell of her ear, sending a traitorous chill straight to her core. “You’ve earned a break tonight. Let me take care of you. A taste of what’s coming.”

One hand drifted up, cupping her small breast through the thin latex top. He squeezed gently at first, thumb circling her already-stiff nipple in slow, deliberate strokes.

She bit back a gasp, hating how her back arched into the touch. Pride screamed at her to fight. The slow knead was building heat she couldn’t ignore, every roll of his fingers pulling her focus away from escape.

Then he flipped her without warning.

Her back slammed against his chest, legs splayed wide over his thighs, her petite stature making her feel even smaller.

“W-what the—”

His hands reclaimed her breasts from behind, firmer now. Fingers pinched her nipples through the material, twisting just enough to sting sweetly.

She gasped, spine bowing. “Hey! Cut that shit out!”

“Just getting a feel for what’s mine,” he whispered, hot breath fanning her neck. Then his teeth grazed her skin—light at first, then a sharp bite that made her jolt.

“Asshole…” she hissed, but the word dissolved into a shudder as pleasure tangled with fury. One hand stayed on her breast, rolling the peak relentlessly, while the other began its slow descent; tracing ribs, dipping into the dip of her waist, flaring over hips. Every inch left fire in its wake, the latex amplifying every press and drag.

Stupid costume.

Her heart was pounding her chest. She hated him, hated this control, but his hands were skilled, knowing exactly where to press, exactly how hard. Just like last time. And it was bullshit that this corpo prick was so fucking good at it.

He had to be cheating. There was no other explanation.

“Your pulse is racing,” he murmured against her ear. “Excited, Becca? Or just pissed? Both?”

“F-fuck… you,” she stammered, breath hitching as his fingers teased the tops of her thighs, drawing lazy, maddening patterns.

“I intend to.” He chuckled, squeezing the soft flesh of her inner thighs. “But not yet. We’ve got time.”

That’s when his fingers finally dipped between her legs, pressing firmly against her nub through the latex. The tight material turned the pressure obscene—enough to make her jerk, not enough to satisfy.

Her hips bucked involuntarily, a sharp gasp tearing free. She squeezed her eyes shut, fighting the rising heat, but he increased the pressure, rubbing slow, torturous circles.

“Come on,” he coaxed, voice a low rumble that vibrated through her. “Let me hear those pretty moans.”

“N-never…” she gasped, but the word cracked as he sped up. The burn coiled low and tight, relentless.

His free hand slid to her throat but not with the intention to choke her, just holding. It was a sign of possessiveness. A claim. And much to her confusion a fresh arousal flooded her.

“You love being at my mercy, don’t you, little slut?” His thumb stroked the column of her throat in slow, deliberate lines.

She was a merc. An edgerunner. A fighter. Not some spoiled rich corpo’s toy.

But her body didn’t give a damn about principles. It was soaking, throbbing, begging for more despite her brain saying otherwise.

And the worst part? He knew. He felt it. And he capitalized immediately.

Fingers tugged the crotch of the latex aside, exposing her dripping heat to the cool air. She was soaked, obscenely so.

“Wet already?” he taunted, then bit her earlobe.

Without warning, two fingers plunged deep, curling perfectly against that spot inside her. Stars exploded behind her eyelids. A scream muffled into her own palm as he pumped; fast, rough, merciless, hitting her sweet spot over and over again.

Lewd, wet sounds filled the room. Her walls clenched desperately around his digits, hips jerking no matter how hard she fought against the pleasure.

“Look at you,” he growled, arm banding her waist to keep her pinned. “Dripping for the man you hate.”

When he sped up again, she shattered—white-hot, screaming into her hand, spasms wracking her tiny frame. Vision blurred. Toes curled. The latex suddenly felt suffocating, too tight, too hot.

He didn’t stop. He kept abusing that spot through her orgasm, drawing it out, making a mess of the couch and floor beneath them.

Only when she was still twitching did he withdraw those stupid fingers—slowly—leaving her feeling maddeningly empty.

Then he plunged back in, causing her to scream before he built her up again. The bastard was relentless.

Only to stop. Right at the edge.

His fingers slipped free, leaving her clenching around nothing.

“Y-you son of a bitch!” Rage and frustration boiled over. “Don’t you fucking dare!”

Did she just… beg?

He laughed*. “I said good girls get to come. And you’ve been anything but good—all that mouth.”

“This is bullshit!” She thrashed, trying to land a slap, but his grip was like steel, unflinching much to her frustration.

His hands returned to her small breasts, kneading them possessively and getting rougher with them. “Still so feisty. I love it.”

She could only growl and but one hard pinch made her look away, cheeks burning.

Then he lifted her effortlessly for a moment, settling something thick and heavy between her thighs.

When she looked down, her throat went dry.

How the fuck was he that big without chrome?

Organic. Her ass.

She’d blown him before—knew the size that had choked her—but seeing it now, trapped between her pale thighs, head protruding far past her mound, twitching against her… the sheer scale difference hit differently this time.

What would happen if he actually—

She shook the thought away when she realized one detail.

“Wait, how did you—” She hadn’t even heard the zipper go down.

“Like what you see?” He gave a shallow thrust, sliding along her soaked folds through the latex.

“Fuck off,” she muttered, looking away as a new wave heat flooded her face.

He only laughed before setting a slow, torturous rhythm—using her thighs to stroke himself. The sight was obscene: thick length disappearing and reappearing, the fat head brushing her clit with every pass.

“I could edge you like this all night,” he murmured, hands gripping her hips, controlling every movement. “Drive you mad until you beg.”

She believed him.

Her head fell back against his shoulder, resolve fraying at the edges. She hated him—hated the humiliation—but the friction was exquisite torture, a new pleasure begging for release.

Every glide sent jolts through her core. Her hips started rocking despite herself. She bit her lip bloody to keep quiet, but small, broken whimpers escaped anyway.

And he noticed those whimpers. Of course he did.

“Fighting so hard,” he taunted. “But you’re soaking me, Becca. Admit it—you want this.”

“N-never,” she panted. But her body arched hard after the next thrust.

That was the moment she slipped.

He tore the ruined latex wide open, cool air hitting her dripping sex fully.

“Much better.”

He adjusted her, broad head nudging her entrance. Parting her—just enough to stretch her lips—then pulling back, tapping her very sensitive clit.

Again.

And again.

Each slow nudge sent electricity racing through her nerves, making her tremble. How could simple teasing wreck her this badly?

He kept denying penetration, using her own slickness to glide through her folds, coating himself, teasing her hole without mercy.

“What’s wrong?” His lips ghosted her ear. “Frustrated? Angry?”

“Go… fuck yourself, you massive piece of shit” she ground out, fists clenched so hard her nails drew blood.

“I’d rather fuck you.” He pressed harder, sliding through her eager quim, gathering more of her juices, but still never entering. “This is more fun. Watching you squirm.”

“You’re a bastard,” she moaned, hips bucking desperately. But he held her firm, dictating her every movement.

“And you’re desperate.” He bit her shoulder—sharp enough to make her yelp. “All that attitude, and it comes down to this.”

“S-shut up!” Even talking was getting hard.

“Then beg for it,” he growled, hand returning to her throat.

“N-never.”

“Stubborn to the end.” He chuckled.

Then he pulled her down—not inside, but trapping himself between her thighs again. Slick friction resumed, guiding her up and down, making sure her swollen clit dragged hard along every hot inch faster and faster.

Until her head fell back. A strangled moan tore free as climax crashed through her—without him even entering her.

Thankfully, that seemed to be his limit. He grunted, low and rough, hot release spilling thick across her thighs and stomach, marking her pale skin.

Rebecca slumped, trembling, mind hazy as she gasped for air.

He held her close for long moments, their breaths slowly syncing in the dim room.

She didn’t know how long they stayed like that until he caught her chin, turning her face toward him.

She snarled and tried to bite—because fuck him if he thought he was getting a kiss.

He laughed softly instead, then leaned in and pressed a surprisingly gentle kiss to her forehead, sealing the deal like a signature.

As soon as his arms loosened, she scrambled off his lap. Her legs wobbled; she dropped to her knees for a second, one hand braced on the couch. That’s when she saw the ruined bunny suit, latex torn and stretched, his cum streaked across her stomach and thighs.

No napkins. Of course.

And worse her snatch was still throbbing, feeling very empty and for some stupid reason desiring for more.

“Go ahead,” he said calmly, already tucking himself away and buckling his belt like nothing had happened. “Get your things. We’re leaving.”

“Where?”

“My place.” The click of the buckle was loud in the quiet room. “Our little deal starts now.”

“I’m not your doll,” she spat, pushing herself back to her feet through sheer stubborn will.

He tilted his head, then shook it with a slow, dangerous smirk. “You sold yourself, Becca. I don’t share my toys.”

“I’ll kill you,” she seethed. “Bullet right between those pretty eyes.”

“You can alwa- Wait, pretty?.”

Fuck.

-----------------------------------------

AN: Had some time to get this one out. Rebecca isn't getting out easy.