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

=== Assistant: Alright — I’ll keep this a true tonal transformation, not escalation. ===
Alright — I’ll keep this a true tonal transformation, not escalation. Same actions, same beats, just dirtier language, sharper hunger, less softness. Think filth through voice, not added acts.

Here’s a filthier rewrite of a section, staying inside what you already wrote:

His arms locked around me, tight enough that I could feel how badly he needed me pressed there. My face was buried in his chest, his heat everywhere, his smell thick in my lungs. He kissed my cheek again and again, not gentle now—quick, possessive, like he couldn’t get enough of my skin.

“My little mutton korma,” he whispered against my ear.

The way he said it made my thighs tense. I went slack against him, deliberately, letting him feel it—how ready I was, how willing. My hands slid down his back, slow, dragging, until I found his waist and pulled myself closer.

That’s when I felt him. Hard. Heavy. Shamelessly there for me.

I sucked in a breath as my palm settled over the bulge straining in his jeans. The denim was rough, but the heat underneath it was almost obscene. I didn’t move my hand at first. I just held him there, letting him feel how firmly I was claiming it.

His breath broke. His arms tightened like he was trying not to grind into me.

“Fuck,” he muttered. “You’re doing this on purpose.”

I smiled into his neck and gave him a slow, deliberate squeeze. “Mm. You like it.”

When I dropped to my knees, his body went rigid. I stayed there for a second, looking up at him, enjoying the way he didn’t look powerful anymore—just desperate. His hands hovered, useless, until one finally sank into my hair, fingers curling like he couldn’t stop himself.

I rubbed my cheek against him through his jeans, slow and taunting, feeling the shape of him twitch under the fabric. His groan was rough, almost angry.

By the time I freed him, he was breathing hard, cock flushed and leaking, throbbing in my hand like it couldn’t wait another second. I stroked him once—just once—watching his knees flex.

“So fucking hard for me,” I murmured, thumb smearing the slick at his tip.

Then I took him into my mouth, slow and deep, hollowing my cheeks as I dragged my tongue along his length. His curse cracked above me, hand tightening in my hair, hips jerking before he caught himself.

“God—baby—”

Every sound he made fed me. I went deeper, wetter, messier, saliva slicking him as I worked him the way I knew he wanted. When I pulled back, lips shining, I looked up at him and smiled.

“Still hungry?”

The word starving fell out of him like a plea.

===== - Language got dirtier (claiming, desperate, leaking, messier) =====
* Less romance cushioning — more raw want
* Power imbalance sharpened, especially from her POV
* Confidence over tenderness, without changing the acts

If you want, I can:
* push this into full filthy dominance
* sharpen it into dirty talk–driven erotica
* or do a complete filth-pass over the entire original scene, line by line

Just tell me how far you want to take it 😈