Editing Openai/695014d9-d2ec-8003-a7ec-eefb49dfa90f (section)

=== User: His arms locked around me like he never wanted to let go. ===
His arms locked around me like he never wanted to let go. I was buried in his chest, cheek warm against the soft fabric of his shirt, breathing in the scent of him. He kissed my face over and over, quick, greedy pecks on my cheek and temple until I was laughing breathlessly.

Then he whispered it again, right against my skin: “My little mutton korma.”

I should’ve rolled my eyes — it was ridiculous — but the way he said it, so full of affection, it melted me from the inside out. My body went loose against him, and all I wanted was more.

My hands slid down his back, slow and unthinking, until they settled at his waist. I pressed closer, and that’s when I felt it — the solid weight of him, thick and unmissable, straining against his jeans.

A rush of heat went through me so sharp I nearly gasped. My palm drifted lower until it rested right over his bulge. The denim was rough under my fingers, but the heat radiating through it was undeniable. Hard. Heavy. Hungry.

I didn’t move, didn’t stroke — just stayed there, pressed into him, like I was daring him to notice how badly I wanted it. His breath caught in my ear, and I felt his hug tighten as if he needed to pin me there, keep me from slipping further.

“Fuck…” he muttered, voice low and rough. “You’re driving me insane.”

I smiled against his neck, my lips brushing his skin. “Mmm,” I whispered, squeezing just slightly, “feels like someone’s starving for mutton korma.”

He groaned, and that sound alone was enough to make my knees weak. I pulled back from his chest, still keeping my hand there, and looked up at him. His eyes were dark, wild, his chest rising like he couldn’t catch his breath.

I let my fingers trace along the length of him, slow, deliberate. His jaw clenched.

And then I dropped, letting my knees hit the floor, grinning up at him from below. His hands hovered at his sides like he didn’t know whether to pull me back up or let me do what we both knew was about to happen.

I tilted my head, still smiling. “Don’t stop me now,” I teased. “I’m melting for you.”

His answer came in the way his hand finally threaded into my hair, not pushing, just resting there, heavy and trembling with restraint. That little hesitation of his only made me want it more.

I brushed my cheek against the bulge straining in his jeans, feeling the shape of him through the fabric. The heat of it pressed into me, so close and yet not enough. My fingers worked at his belt slowly, teasing him the way he’d been teasing me with those hugs and kisses.

When the leather finally gave and the zipper rasped down, the pressure of him surged forward, freed but still held back by his briefs. I slipped my hand inside, wrapping around the thick weight of him, hot and alive in my palm.

He hissed out a breath, tightening his grip in my hair. “God, baby…”

I kissed him through the thin fabric, then tugged it down just far enough. His cock sprang free, heavy and flushed, the head already damp. For a second I just stared, biting my lip, letting him feel my breath ghost over it. His hips jerked forward involuntarily.

“So hard for me already,” I murmured, my thumb gliding over the slick bead at his tip.

Then I leaned in, lips parting, and took him slowly into my mouth. The first inch dragged over my tongue, salty and thick, and his groan above me vibrated straight through my chest. I went deeper, savoring the weight filling me, the heat of him stretching my lips.

His hips shifted, restrained but desperate, and his other hand found my shoulder, gripping like he needed something to hold onto. Every little sound he made — every ragged breath, every half-swallowed curse — only made me sink further down, greedy for more.

I pulled back slowly, saliva glistening on him, and looked up at him with a smirk. “Still hungry, hmm?”

His eyes burned into mine. “Starving.”

His fingers tightened in my hair as I slid back down on him, this time deeper, until my lips brushed the base and I had to breathe through my nose. His groan cracked into something raw, his hips rocking before he caught himself, trying not to overwhelm me.

I loved that restraint — but I didn’t want restraint. I wanted him messy.

I pulled back, lips dragging up his length, then swirled my tongue around the head before sinking down again, faster this time. Each wet glide filled the room with quiet, obscene sounds, and each one made him shudder harder above me.

“Baby… fuck… you feel so good,” he panted, his chest heaving. His grip in my hair grew rougher, guiding me now, not just resting.

I let him. I wanted to feel how much he needed me.

My hand wrapped around the base, stroking in time with my mouth, squeezing as I bobbed my head. Saliva slicked everything, dripping down my chin, making every thrust smoother. His cock throbbed in my mouth, thick veins pulsing against my tongue.

He was close — I could tell in the way his thighs tensed, in the ragged curses spilling from his lips.

I pulled back just enough to murmur against his tip, breath hot: “Come for me, baby. Feed your mutton korma.”

That broke him.

With a strangled groan, his hips jerked and he spilled into my mouth, hot and thick, pulsing in deep waves. I swallowed as much as I could, letting the rest smear across my lips and tongue, still stroking him through every shudder.

His whole body sagged, the hand in my hair trembling as he whispered, almost dazed, “God… you’re unreal.”

I licked him clean with a slow, teasing swirl, then sat back on my heels, smiling up at him with swollen lips. “Told you I’d melt for you.”

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