Rough Edges and Soft Pleas

**Chapter 1: The Unyielding Hunt**

The dimly lit bar on the edge of town was a haven for misfits and wanderers, a place where the air was thick with the scent of cheap whiskey and unspoken desires. At the far end of the scratched-up counter sat Riley, a 38-year-old tomboy with a reputation for getting what she wanted. Her cropped hair was streaked with silver, her leather jacket worn at the elbows, and her smirk was as sharp as the switchblade she kept tucked in her boot. She wasn’t here for the watered-down drinks or the stale peanuts. She was here for prey.

Her hazel eyes locked onto him the moment he shuffled in, all soft edges and nervous glances. His name was Eli, a femboy in his early twenties, with delicate features, long lashes, and a cascade of honey-blonde hair that framed his porcelain face. He wore a pastel sweater that clung to his slender frame, and his wide, innocent eyes darted around the room like a deer sensing a predator. Perfect.

Riley sipped her beer, her gaze predatory as she watched him settle into a corner booth, fidgeting with the straw in his soda. She could tell he wasn’t used to places like this—too pure, too untouched. Her lips curled into a wicked grin. She wanted to hear him beg, to see that pretty face contort under her control. She wanted to break him just a little, just enough to feel the thrill of his resistance.

Sliding off her stool, she sauntered over, her boots clicking against the sticky floor. Eli looked up as she loomed over his table, her shadow casting a darkness over his trembling form. “Hey, sweetheart,” she drawled, her voice rough like gravel but dripping with intent. “Mind if I join you?”

Eli blinked, his cheeks flushing a soft pink. “Uh, I—I’m just waiting for a friend,” he stammered, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Friend, huh? They’re late. Lucky for me.” Riley slid into the booth opposite him, uninvited, her muscular frame taking up more space than necessary. She leaned forward, elbows on the table, her grin widening as she caught the way his hands fidgeted. “You’ve got a gorgeous face, kid. Ever had someone sit on it?”

His eyes widened, a gasp escaping his lips as he shrank back against the worn vinyl seat. “W-what? No, I—I don’t even know you!” His voice cracked, and Riley’s grin turned feral. She loved the way his innocence bled through every word.

“Name’s Riley. Now you know me. And I’m askin’ real nice—let me sit on that pretty little face of yours. I promise I’ll make it worth your while.” Her tone was teasing, but there was a dangerous edge to it, a challenge that dared him to say no.

Eli’s face burned crimson, his hands gripping the edge of the table. “I’m not… I’m not into that. Please, just—just leave me alone.” His voice trembled, but there was a quiet defiance in his eyes that only fueled Riley’s hunger.

“Aw, c’mon, don’t be like that,” she purred, leaning closer until her breath ghosted over his ear. “I can see it in your eyes—you’re curious. Scared, sure, but curious. Let me show you how good it feels to let go.”

“I said no!” Eli snapped, his voice louder now, drawing a few curious glances from the other patrons. He pushed himself further into the corner of the booth, as if the wall could shield him from her intensity.

Riley’s smirk didn’t falter. If anything, his resistance made her more determined. “Fine, sugar. We’ll play it your way. For now.” She stood, towering over him, her gaze pinning him in place. “But I don’t take no for an answer forever. Stick around, pretty boy. I’ve got manners to teach you.”

The tension hung heavy as she walked back to the bar, her stride confident, knowing full well he was watching her every move. Eli’s heart pounded in his chest, his breath shallow as he tried to process what had just happened. He should leave, he knew that, but something about her raw, unapologetic energy kept him rooted to the spot. He hated how his mind lingered on her words, on the image she’d planted there.

An hour later, the bar had thinned out, and Eli made the mistake of stepping outside for some air. The alley behind the bar was dark, the only light coming from a flickering streetlamp. He didn’t see her until it was too late—Riley, leaning against the brick wall, a cigarette dangling from her lips, her eyes glinting with mischief.

“Thought you’d run off, sweetheart,” she said, flicking the cigarette away as she pushed off the wall and stalked toward him. “But here you are, all alone. Perfect.”

Eli took a step back, his back hitting the cold brick. “I—I’m just getting some air. I don’t want any trouble.”

“Trouble’s my middle name, kid.” Riley closed the distance in two strides, her hand slamming against the wall beside his head, caging him in. “You’ve been dodging me all night, and I’m done playin’ nice. I want that face of yours under me, and I’m not askin’ anymore.”

Before he could protest, Riley’s strong hands gripped his shoulders, pushing him down with a force he couldn’t resist. He stumbled, falling to his knees on the gritty pavement, his breath hitching as she towered over him. “Wait, please—don’t do this!” he cried, his voice laced with panic, but Riley only chuckled, low and dark.

“Shh, sugar. You’ll thank me later.” With a swift motion, she turned, her powerful frame looming as she lowered herself over him. Eli’s pleas turned to muffled gasps as her weight settled, her firm ass pressing down on his delicate face. She ground against him with deliberate slowness, savoring the way he squirmed beneath her, his hands pushing weakly at her thighs.

“Stop fightin’ it,” she growled, her voice thick with dominance as she felt his hot breath against her through the fabric of her jeans. “Feel that? That’s power, pretty boy. You’re mine right now.”

Eli’s face contorted under her, his features crushed beneath her unyielding weight, his muffled cries vibrating against her. His slender body writhed, desperate for air, for release, but Riley held firm, her thighs clamping tighter as she relished every twitch of resistance. She was sweating now, her breath coming in short, hungry pants as the thrill of control coursed through her. She could feel herself getting wet, the heat between her legs intensifying with every helpless sound he made.

“You’re doin’ so good down there,” she taunted, her voice dripping with wicked amusement. “Keep squirming, baby. Makes it even better for me.”

The alley was silent save for Eli’s stifled whimpers and Riley’s low, satisfied hums. She wasn’t done with him—not by a long shot. This was just the beginning, a taste of the power she wielded, and she knew he’d be back for more, whether he wanted to admit it or not. For now, though, she’d let him struggle, let him feel the weight of her desire, until he was dripping with the memory of her dominance.