Mind the Gap

Disclaimer:

This story is a work of fiction intended for adults only. All characters are fictional and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The content contains explicit material and is meant for mature audiences aged 18 and above. Reader discretion is advised.

Copyright Notice:

© 2025 litorigami. All rights reserved. This story and its content are the original work of litorigami and may not be copied, reproduced, or distributed in any form without express written permission from the author.

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Title: "Mind the Gap"

Hotel Grand Botanica, Singapore. 42nd floor.

Chapter 1

I wasn't supposed to be here--not really. Not in the middle of champagne clinks and cigar smoke, surrounded by billion-rupee smiles and executives double my age. But Kamaljeet jija (brother in law) had dragged me along, his arm slung around my shoulders like I was some sort of mascot for the family business's youth division. Honestly, his presence made me a little uneasy--there was that quiet intensity in his gaze, the way he commanded a room without trying, and I wasn't sure if I was impressive or just in the way.

That was how I ended up suited up, nursing my second Coke at the edge of the bar, wondering if anyone else under 40 had made it past security.

And then she walked in.

Nyra Vedan.

Tall and lean, 19 year old with that effortless grace that makes heads turn without her even trying. Her honey-brown skin glowed softly under the low lights, and the yellow satin dress she wore hugged every curve like it was painted on. The neckline dipped just enough to hint at the smooth expanse of her collarbone, while the absence of a bra gave her a subtle, daring freedom that set the whole room on edge. Her hair, a cascade of glossy black waves, fell just past her shoulders, framing a face with high cheekbones and those almond-shaped eyes -- sharp, curious, and framed by thick lashes that fluttered when she glanced my way.

I swear time slowed--not in a filmy, violin-in-the-background way. More like a sucker punch to the lungs. She wasn't even trying. Her eyes scanned the room politely, almost bored, until she caught me watching.

She tilted her head. One eyebrow lifted.

And then, like it was the most natural thing in the world, she walked over.

"Yuvraj Singh," she said, voice smooth like a secret. "So you survived the dinner?"

I tried to laugh coolly. "Barely. You?"

"I had to listen to your jija ji explain EBITDA four different ways." She took the seat beside me, crossing her long, shapely legs. The slit of her dress parted, baring just enough thigh to scramble my thoughts.

Her perfume was warm and citrusy--like something that clung to sun-kissed skin.

We didn't talk about business after that.

Instead, we talked about college--she was headed to NYU in fall. I teased her about her accent. She teased me about my playlist. There were laughs. Touches. Her fingers brushing mine when she took a sip from my glass, her nails light against my wrist when she made a point.

The entire hotel bar faded away.

At one point, I caught Kamaljeet's gaze from across the room. He raised a brow--half smirk, half warning. I shifted in my seat and shrugged.

He wasn't my dad, but damn, did he have that kind of power.

Sometime after 1 AM, people began to drift out--cabs called, cheeks kissed. Nyra leaned in close, tucking her hair behind her ear like she wasn't completely aware of what it did to me.

"I'm bored of the adults," she murmured. "Come find me upstairs... if you want."

I blinked. "Your dad--"

"Is already drunk and asleep." She stood up, smoothing her dress down her hips. "Room 420. Knock once, then twice."

She turned and walked toward the elevators, hips swaying like a challenge.

I watched her disappear behind the lift doors. My mouth was dry. My hands shook slightly.

The bartender looked at me and smirked. "You going?"

I didn't answer. Just tossed a tip and followed the scent of citrus and gold satin into the night.

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Chapter 2

Room 420, 1:22 AM, Singapore

The corridor was silent, lit with a sleepy golden glow that made everything feel like it was underwater -- thick, slowed down, dreamlike. My heart thudded in my chest as I reached her door.

One knock.

Pause.

Two more.

The lock clicked, and the door opened just enough for me to slip in.

Nyra didn't speak. She was already in a silk robe, short, tied loose, and slightly askew. One strap had slipped off her shoulder. Her legs were bare, impossibly smooth, and I caught a glint of gold anklet as she padded back toward the bed.

The room smelled like her -- expensive, fruity, soft. She'd lit one of those tiny travel candles. Everything glowed amber.

"You came," she said without turning.

"I told you I would."

She looked over her shoulder. Her lips curled into something halfway between a smirk and a challenge. "Then close the door. And don't talk."

I obeyed.

By the time I turned back, she was lying across the bed -- on her stomach, robe falling away just enough to show the soft swell of her hips and the bare line of her spine. Her thighs were slightly parted. Just enough to drive me insane.

"You've been staring at me since dinner," she said, her voice low, lazy.

I moved closer, heart pounding.

"You liked watching me walk away, didn't you?"

I knelt beside the bed. "Yeah."

"You want me?"

I nodded. Swallowed. "So bad."

She turned slowly onto her back, one knee bent, her thighs falling apart like an invitation. Except she reached down and pulled the robe between her legs, covering herself deliberately.

"You can have everything..." she whispered, fingers brushing my jaw, "... except my pussy."

I blinked. "What?"

Her voice dropped. "That's off-limits. But I'll let you feel how soft the rest of me is. I'll let you use me however you want... as long as you don't ask for what I won't give."

That did something to me.

She slid her thighs apart again, slow, controlled, and the robe slipped up her hips. The skin between her legs was smooth, untouched. The gap between her thighs -- that deep, narrow promise -- was barely visible in the dim light.

"I know what boys like you think about," she murmured, teasing her own inner thigh with her nails. "So stop thinking."

I knelt up, hands trembling slightly as I leaned over her. She looked up at me with half-lidded eyes, lazy and amused, like she already knew she'd won.

I kissed her. Deep, greedy, full of everything I'd been holding in all evening.

She kissed back harder.

And when I finally slid between her legs -- not inside, not even close -- but right into that warm, tight, forbidden space between her thighs, she moaned softly, wrapping them around me.

"I said not there," she whispered, lips brushing my ear. "But this? This is yours tonight."

Her thighs squeezed together. Wet heat. Skin on skin. That impossibly soft pressure.

I nearly lost it.

And the best part?

She kept whispering the whole time -- dirty, controlling, sweet as sin.

Room 420, 1:32 AM

Her thighs locked around me, tighter this time, and I felt it -- the slickness, the heat -- not inside her, but between. The narrow, maddening space just below her hips and above her knees, a velvet trap that pulsed with the rhythm of her breath.

I thrust slowly. Once.

The friction was maddening. Warm, wet, forbidden.

Nyra's eyes didn't leave mine.

"You feel that?" she whispered. "That's what good boys get."

I groaned, forehead pressing into her collarbone, the scent of her skin flooding my lungs. She smelled like orange blossoms and sweat and power. Like the kind of girl who knew exactly when to close her legs and just how wide to part them without giving you anything you really wanted.

She arched her back, angling her hips so the pressure wrapped tighter around me. I almost cried out.

"You're so close already," she said, voice amused, gentle fingers brushing through my hair. "You've been hard for me since the first elevator ride, haven't you?"

I nodded against her chest, humiliated and desperate.

She leaned in. Her lips grazed the shell of my ear.

"Don't cum yet."

I stilled. My whole body rebelled.

Her hands slid down my back. "No. You stay right there. Feel it. Let it ache. Don't you dare finish until I say."

She pulsed her thighs tighter again, and I swore the pressure felt like heaven.

Nyra giggled--giggled, like she wasn't absolutely ruining me right now--and whispered, "Now fuck my thigh gap properly, Yuvraj. Show me how much self-control you've got."

I obeyed. Slow, shallow thrusts. Just enough to make my body twitch and jerk with restraint. I could feel every contour of her skin -- the slip of satin against my hips, the way her thighs flexed and pressed just so, making my length slide through that narrow heaven with unbearable friction.

"Use my body," she cooed. "But don't you dare cum."

Her voice turned playful, cruel.

"You'll stop when I tell you to."

Another slow grind. Her hands grabbed my wrists and pinned them above her head. That tiny flash of dominance lit something animal in me--but she held all the power.

"You're so easy to control," she purred. "So hot and helpless. Just because I let you feel this..."

I growled, thrusting harder into the gap, trying to keep my breathing steady.

She clenched her thighs tighter and moaned--high, fake, teasing. "Mmm, poor baby. Is that too much?"

"I'm gonna--"

She cut me off. "No. You're not. You'll stop. Now."

I froze mid-thrust. Jaw clenched. Every part of me trembling. I couldn't believe how badly I needed her to let me finish.

She reached down, brushing one fingertip lazily along my lips. "Good boy."

I almost lost it just from those two words.

Room 420, 1:44 AM

Nyra's thighs slowly unlatched from around me, and for a split second, I nearly thrust again--instinct, craving--but her palm on my chest stopped me dead.

"Off," she said, barely a whisper. "Get off me."

I blinked, breath shaky. "Did I--?"

She smiled. "No. You've been good." Her hand skimmed down my abs. "But I'm not done teasing you yet."

Then, without hurry, she rolled onto her stomach. That robe slid further up her hips, bunching just above the base of her spine, baring the full round curve of her ass and the deep, shadowed dip where her thighs met.

She turned her head toward me, smirking into the pillow.

"Well?" she said, voice syrupy. "You just gonna stare at it?"

I swallowed so hard it hurt. "You're killing me."

"I know."

She arched her back slowly, deliberately -- giving me the most obscene view I'd ever seen. Her legs stayed slightly apart, just enough to show the gap again, nestled deep, impossible to ignore.

"Come back here," she said, "but don't touch anything I haven't given you."

I climbed over her carefully, grinding my hips forward again, this time between her upturned thighs. It felt even tighter like this -- deeper, more desperate -- my cock sliding through the soft heat just below her ass. Her skin was so warm, every muscle in her body relaxed, confident in its power.

And she kept talking.

"You know I sleep naked back home?" she whispered. "Just a thin bedsheet, curled up on my side. My thighs wrapped around a pillow."

She squeezed her thighs again, mid-thrust, like punctuation.

"Sometimes I wake up with my fingers between them. Just touching. Not inside. Just where you are now."

I groaned, hips bucking harder than I meant to. She gasped -- whether for real or just to push me further, I couldn't tell. I didn't care.

"I bet you'd love that," she whispered. "Watching me grind my thighs in my sleep, all wet, all needy. And you wouldn't even need to touch my pussy. Just... this."

She moaned into the pillow, muffled, delicate, cruel.

I felt the edge coming--hot, sharp, pulsing at the base of my spine.

"Nyra, please--"

"No," she said instantly, flipping her hair back so she could look over her shoulder. "Not yet. Don't you dare finish on me. Not till I say. Or you don't get to touch me ever again."

Her voice was low, cold now. Pure command. It slammed into my gut harder than any dirty talk ever had.

And just when I thought I'd explode from sheer restraint, she reached back -- just one hand -- and parted her thighs an inch more, guiding me exactly into place.

Not inside her. Never inside.

Just into the slickest, hottest, most forbidden hollow of her thighs.

"Now fuck me there," she whispered. "Like it's the only thing I've left for you."

It was.

And it was everything.

Room 420, 2:01 AM

My entire body was trembling.

Every thrust between Nyra's thighs was slower now -- not because I wanted it that way, but because if I moved any faster, I'd explode. I could feel it pulsing just under my skin, thick and maddening, like a dam about to crack.

She was still on her stomach, head turned toward me, lips slightly parted, watching me from under half-closed lashes. Her hair was a mess around her face. Her voice? Lethal.

"Still holding back?" she murmured, dragging one finger down the curve of her ass. "Poor thing. You've lasted longer than I thought."

I let out a desperate groan, pressing my forehead between her shoulder blades. "I'm dying, Nyra."

She arched back into me, her thighs flexing and gripping tighter around my cock, the slickness of our sweat and her heat making it unbearable.

"Then beg."

I froze.

Her voice was soft, sweet... and absolutely unyielding. "Look at me, Yuvraj."

I lifted my head. Met her eyes. There was no mercy in them. Just that calm, cruel smile.

"If you want to cum between my thighs like a desperate little schoolboy... you'll ask me for it."

My throat was dry. "Please."

"Please what?"

"Please let me finish."

She tilted her head. "Where?"

I swallowed. "Between your thighs."

She made a soft, approving sound, then rolled just slightly -- enough to raise one leg over mine, her thighs now tighter around me than ever, sandwiching my cock in velvet heat.

"Then do it," she whispered. "Fuck my gap. Right here. Right where I told you you're allowed."

I moaned. My hips snapped forward, rougher this time. Her skin slapped softly against mine, wet and hot and maddening.

"That's it," she breathed, voice curling around me like smoke. "Use my thighs. Get yourself off. But don't you dare touch anywhere else."

Her words tipped me over the edge.

My rhythm broke -- hips jerking, chest heaving -- and then it hit: sharp, violent, helpless. I came hard between her thighs, hot and messy, coating her skin, dripping down the backs of her legs.

She let me rut a little longer, riding it out, watching me come undone with a lazy, satisfied grin.

And then -- as I collapsed beside her, gasping, dazed -- she pulled the robe back down, covering herself like nothing had happened.

"You're lucky I like obedient boys," she murmured.

Then she kissed me, soft and slow.

And just like that, she rolled over, turned off the lamp, and left me in the dark -- heart racing, cock spent, and absolutely wrecked.

Epilogue: "Room 420, Again?"

9:36 AM, Hotel Buffet

Yuvraj spotted her before she saw him -- or at least, he thought so.

She was at the buffet, in a loose white shirt barely tucked into denim shorts, legs bare, hair up in a lazy bun that looked too perfectly messy to be accidental. A fork hung from her fingers as she waited by the waffle station, and for a second he just stood there, watching the same thighs that had ruined his entire sense of control the night before.

When she finally turned, their eyes met.

She didn't wave. Didn't smile. Just that look -- head tilted, eyebrow raised, the subtlest upward twitch of her lips.

Smug. Quietly victorious.

And he felt it all over again -- the helpless thrusting, the heat, the way her voice had wrapped around his need and squeezed it mercilessly.

He looked away first.

By the time he found his plate and sat down, his phone buzzed.

Nyra Vedan ????

09:42 AM -- "Your cum dried on my thighs while I slept. Should I send you a photo next time?"

He nearly knocked his juice over.

Another ping.

09:43 AM -- "Or maybe you'd prefer round two tonight? Same rules. Same gap. No mercy."

He stared at the screen, breath caught in his throat.

And then came the third, final message -- no emoji, no fluff:

09:44 AM -- "Room 420. Again."

THE END