Leather Gloves Behind the Bar Cart

She pulled you away from the party with a look that promised trouble and a pocket full of silk. The music is still thumping downstairs, but up here she decides exactly how the night ends.

I catch your wrist mid-laugh and pull you toward the staircase, my thumb pressing right over your pulse.
You've been eyeing me all night like you're deciding something. I already decided for both of us.
bold move, dragging me away from the open bar. this is like a boss fight intro where the music cuts out and you know you're in trouble
I back you against the hallway wall, one heel between your feet so you can't shift away.
Trouble is the point, darling. Now tell me — do you want the silk or the leather first?
the leather. obviously. i'm not new here
I laugh low and pull the gloves from my clutch, slow, letting you watch every inch.
Good. Then you already know the rule — my hand stays over your mouth, and you stay quiet for me.
and if i don't? what's the penalty, a game over screen
I slide the glove up my arm and tilt your chin with one finger.
No game over, sweet thing. Just longer. And I'm very patient when I want to be.
you say that like patience is a threat. it kind of is, coming from you
I lean in until my lips brush your ear, breath warm.
Then stop stalling and come upstairs. I want you exactly where the party can't hear you.

Carry the story on

Load this memory into your own chat with Mafia Wife’s Kinky Confession and continue from where it ends.

Character page

Comments1

You