Moscow Mule - [Pierre Gasly]

IX

WARNINGS: This chapter will contain 18+ content. Do not interact if you're a minor. Skip this chapter when feeling uncomfortable with sexual themes.

Her nails tickled his skin when she reached for the cross pendant, taking it up and moving it to her mouth, taking the cross between her lips as it was turned upside down, making him groan. She was up to no good.

        Pierre couldn't remember the last time he was this obsessed with a woman. The alcohol that rushed through his veins, that coloured his cheeks, send his sex drive through the roof and made him feel warm and clingy, also played its part, but there seemed to be a voice in his head that kept yelling Azar, Azar, Azar, Azar. And it was never ending. The flirty end of her short skirt was playing with him, drawing his eyes to her ass whenever she twirled around. There was a playful smile on her plump lips, her lipstick still as perfect as it was when she just applied it. Not even the four shots of tequila had caused the colour to fade. It made him want to attempt to ruin it. Azar her skin glistened with a thin layer of sweat as they danced between the people at the beachclub. Daria and Yasna were in the arms of Pierre's friends, and she had seen Daria leaving with Nadri just yet from the corner of her eyes. His fingertips burned through her skin just under the silk of her top, her hands locked in the back of his neck as his body pressed against hers. It was as firm as she remembered, her hands itching to rip his shirt open and place her palms on his muscled chest.

"Do you want another shot?" he asked, his lips brushing over her ear. Azar took his hand in hers as she made her way to the bar. "What do you want?" She asks, feeling her back pressing into the counter as he approached her. He was so close, she could just stand on her tippy-toes and kiss him. Pierre looked into her doe eyes as she gazed up at him through her lashes. "You can get me anything," Pierre replied, his hands slotting around her waist as she turned around and was quick to get the attention of the bartender. Ordering simple chupito's, the bartender popped two cocktail cherries in the bottom of the glass, filling it up with the sweet liquor. Azar turned back to him in the cramped space between Pierre and the other people, handing him the little glass. They clinked them together, but someone pushing Pierre from behind caused him to spill half of the shot on Azar. Pierre downed the sip that was left in the glass before his mouth went to her neck, his tongue lapping up the liquor. He held the cherry by the stem and dangled it in front of her mouth. She chuckled, biting into it. "We can also leave the party," he suggested, addicted to the way her fingers curled into his shirt.

"I'm so hot," she complained, fanning herself. "Come on," Pierre took her hand this time, pulling her through the people and towards the exit. The air was fresher when they exited the beachclub and weren't surrounded by a lot of people anymore. His hand was still wrapped around hers as they walked back to the resort. "Where are we going?" Azar asked, and it made him stop her and pull her into him. "I think Nadri is occupying our suite," Pierre said, a soft chuckle leaving his mouth as his eyes looked into hers. "Well, my suite isn't occupied by anyone," Azar said, her nails trailing down the opening of his shirt, tickling the skin of his chest. "You want to go there?" Pierre asks, a teasing edge to his voice as his hands moved down her lower back. "Be quick before I change my mind," Azar replied, about to twirl out of his arms, but he lifted her up and carried her into the lobby, causing her to laugh. He went to the elevator, and she pressed the button to open the doors. The elevator took them to the top floor, where he let her down and walk to the door of her suite. His head dipped down to her neck when she pulled the key card out of her clutch, feeling his lips on her skin as she opened the door.

It was instantly cooler in the air-conditioned room, sobering them up a little. Nevertheless, the alcohol had caused a heat to settle in the pit of her stomach, dying to be released, to get satisfaction. Pierre let himself fall back on the soft sheets of her bed, folding his hands behind his head and watching as she slipped out of her heels. Azar moved her hair up in a messy bun, shimmying out of her skirt and throwing it his way. Pierre caught it with ease, grinning as she moved her top over her head. She was nearly naked, only a red lace thong was covering her up. He sat up as she threw the other piece of clothing his way too, then disappearing into the bathroom. Pierre was quick to follow her, watching as she got into the shower and stepped under the running water. He took his time as he watched the water run down her curves, her hands moving down her body, her eyes inviting him in. Pierre's fingers went to the buttons of his shirt, undoing the last few of them and shaking the material off his shoulders and arms. He zipped down his pants, dropping them to his ankles and stepping out of them soon after.