Hux was annoyed.

And Hux was never annoyed. Not outwardly, at least.

He had learned to let anger stew. Let it sit heavy on his chest, seep into his bones, gnaw at his marrow. But he never allowed it to show. Emotion was a weakness, a loose thread waiting to be pulled. And weakness was fatal. Lethal.

Even then, such annoyance was rarely this aggravating.

Yet here she was. Senator, sitting before him in her pristine garments, poised as if she had any real power here. She spoke with measured confidence, as if the First Order could be bargained with. As if he could be reasoned with. It was laughable. Pathetic.

And it was turning him on.

It wasn't just her arrogance that made his jaw tighten, and his cock stir. It was the way she held his gaze. The way she refused to flinch. She stood like a virtue, spoke like a dare wrapped in silk, her mind too sharp for a woman so beautiful. Her tongue far too bold.

And Hux had never met a threat he didn't want to dominate. He knew she wouldn't be any different.

She talked and talked—peace-this and peace-that, as if she could afford such ideals. Hux didn't want peace. Hux wanted obedience. He wanted this pretty thing at his beck and call, his personal political doll to manipulate.

Perhaps fucking her would shut her up. Bending her over his desk, taking her until she begged him to stop. Or better yet—keeping her on her knees for hours while he worked, mouth warm around his cock, silent and obedient.

Yes, might make paperwork less tedious.

He shifted in his chair, just barely, easing the tightness in his pants.

Control. He needed control. He needed her broken in, not broken. Subdued. One he planned to define slowly, painfully, with precision. Like everything else.

She said something about mineral resources, tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, and swiped a page on her datapad.

Hux nearly groaned.

Damn her. She was infuriating. Irresistible. So defiant that he'd rather put a blaster bolt between her eyes than listen to another word spill from her lips.

With a flick of his wrist, he dismissed the officer by the door. The man scrambled out, leaving only the two of them.

The click of the door echoed like a sentence.

She blinked. Once. Twice. Three times—a beat too long. She was scared.

Good girl.

"Tell me, Senator," he said, voice smooth, cutting, cruel. "What exactly do you think you have to offer?"

To me.

His tone was laced with venom, but beneath pulsed hunger. Not just carnal, but personal. He wanted to unravel her. Strip her of conviction. Watch her ideals rot under the weight of reality. Of him. He wanted to watch her lose.

He leaned forward, just enough to watch her throat bob as she swallowed.

Let's see how far she is willing to go. How far she's willing to fall.