IKRRR

The tension between Stella and Martin had been a ticking time bomb since the Mnet Asian Music Awards. As a member of the rising girl group H2H, Stella was used to the spotlight, but she wasn't used to the suffocating intensity of Martin Cortis. Martin, the lead rapper of the global powerhouse Getty, was everything she despised: arrogant, loud, and far too aware of his own charms. They were rivals in the charts and enemies in the green room, yet every time they crossed paths, the air between them didn't just crackle—it burned.

Tonight, at the after-party following a grueling three-day festival in Seoul, the fuse finally hit the powder keg.

Stella slipped into an empty dressing room to escape the noise and the prying eyes of managers. She leaned against the cold vanity, her heart racing from the adrenaline of their closing performance. The door clicked shut, but it wasn't her manager who entered. It was Martin.

"You're in the wrong room, Cortis," Stella snapped, her eyes flashing with a mixture of exhaustion and irritation.

Martin didn't leave. Instead, he locked the door behind him, his gaze running slowly over her stage outfit—a tight, shimmering corset that pushed up her generous cleavage and a skirt that barely covered her thighs. "I think I'm exactly where I need to be, Stella. You’ve been glaring at me all night. Why don't you do something about it?"

"I'd rather jump off the stage," she hissed, though her breath hitched as he stepped into her personal space.

"Liar," he whispered, his voice a low growl. He grabbed her waist, his large hands sinking into her curves. "You’ve been wanting this since the debut showcase. Stop pretending you hate me when your body is shaking just because I'm close."

Before she could retort, his mouth crashed onto hers. It wasn't a gentle kiss; it was a collision of teeth and tongue, a battle for dominance that Stella met with equal fervor. She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him closer as he hoisted her up onto the vanity, scattering makeup brushes and hairspray cans onto the floor.

He broke the kiss to trail his lips down her throat, his stubble grazing her sensitive skin. "You're so loud on stage, Princess. Let's see how loud you are for me."

Stella’s hands flew to the buttons of his dress shirt, tearing them open in her haste. "Shut up and show me why you're so damn confident, Martin."

He stripped her out of the corset with ruthless efficiency, his eyes darkening as her large, heavy breasts were freed. They were pale and firm, the nipples already peaking in the cool air. He groaned, burying his face in her cleavage, inhaling the scent of her perfume and sweat. "Look at you," he muttered against her skin. "Perfect."

He didn't waste another second. He unbuckled his belt and shoved his trousers down, his thick, pulsing length springing free. Stella gasped at the sight of him; he was massive, a testament to the raw power he carried himself with.

"Sit on it," he commanded, his voice dropping into a deep, authoritative tone. "Show me how much you want it, Daddy’s girl."

The "Daddy" caught her off guard, sending a jolt of heat straight to her core. Stella didn't hesitate. She gripped his broad shoulders and lowered herself onto him. She cried out as he filled her completely, her tight walls stretching to accommodate his girth. The sensation was overwhelming, a blunt force of pleasure that made her head toss back.

"That's it," Martin encouraged, his hands gripping her hips to help her find a rhythm. "Take every inch."

Stella began to ride him, her movements frantic and hungry. Her breasts bounced with every upward thrust, and Martin couldn't keep his hands off them, squeezing and kneading the soft flesh as he watched her. The friction against her clit was agonizingly perfect, sending waves of electricity through her.

"You're so tight, Stella," he groaned, his eyes hooded with lust. "I'm going to ruin you for anyone else."

"Then do it," she challenged, her voice breaking. "Faster, Martin. Please."

He flipped her around without warning, pressing her chest down against the cold surface of the vanity. He stood behind her, his chest pressed against her back, and guided himself back into her from behind. The angle was deeper, more invasive. He began to deliver heavy, punishing back shots that echoed in the small room.

Each thrust was a deliberate strike. Stella’s hands searched for purchase on the marble counter, her fingers slipping on spilled powder. She was a mess of pleasure, her cries muffled by the velvet curtains nearby.

"Who do you belong to?" Martin demanded, his voice a rough rasp in her ear. He reached around to find her clit, his thumb circling the swollen bud with agonizing precision while he continued to hammer into her.

"You," she sobbed, the orgasm beginning to coil in her gut. "Daddy, please... I’m going to—"

"Go for it," he commanded, his pace becoming frantic, his movements blurring into a rhythmic assault. "Give it all to me."

Stella shattered. Her internal muscles clamped down on him in a rhythmic pulse that sent him over the edge. Martin let out a guttural roar, thrusting one last time, deep and hard, as he filled her, his forehead resting against the back of her neck as they both tried to catch their breath.

The silence that followed was heavy, broken only by their synchronized panting. Martin didn't pull away immediately; he stayed buried inside her, savoring the afterglow of their shared animosity turned to ecstasy.

"We're still enemies tomorrow," Stella whispered, her voice trembling.

Martin leaned down, biting her earlobe softly. "Of course. But tonight, you're mine."