Chapter 3: The reconquest
The couple Alice and Rick walked down a different hallway, to a separate wing of playrooms that were also reserved for overnight stays. The key to their private room felt heavy and significant in Rick’s hand. He unlocked the door and pushed it open, letting Alice enter first.
The room was quiet, just a king bed and soft lighting. The door clicked shut, locking out the rest of the world. The manufactured anonymity of the party was gone. It was just them now, with the scent of other people clinging to their skin and the silent, screaming stories in their heads. Rick turned to her, his expression shedding its social ease, leaving only raw, hungry curiosity.
“So,” he said, the single word loaded with everything.
They practically slammed into one another, a collision of desperate hands and hungry mouths. His fingers tangled in her hair, pulling her head back to deepen the kiss, a claiming that tasted of whisky and the ghost of another woman’s perfume. She clawed at his shirt, buttons pinging against the wall as she yanked it open.
“Tell me,” he growled against her lips, his hands shoving her robe from her shoulders. “Did he fuck you hard?”
“Yes,” she gasped, biting his lower lip. Her own hands fumbled with his belt. “He used my ass. Now tell me about her.”
He spun her, pushing her towards the bed. “Molly,” he breathed, the name a hot confession against her neck as he nipped the skin. “She rode me first, so deep I saw stars.” He pushed her onto the mattress, his trousers and her robe discarded in a heap on the floor.
Alice pulled him down, her legs wrapping around his hips. “My stranger,” she whispered, guiding his hand between her thighs, “he fucked me here and there.” Rick’s fingers slid through her wetness, then lower, probing the tender, used place she described.
A possessive sound rumbled in his chest. He kissed her again, swallowing her moan as his finger pressed gently inside that forbidden heat. “You’re so open,” he murmured, his voice thick. “I can feel it.”
She reached between them, wrapping her hand around his cock, finding it slick. “This was in her,” she stated, not asking, her thumb smearing the moisture around his head. “I want to taste her on you.”
Before he could respond, she knelt down infront of him.
Her mouth enveloped him, the lingering salt and musk of another woman’s body blooming across her tongue. She sucked hard, pulling the essence of Molly from his skin, her own arousal spiking at the bitter, foreign taste. “Fuck, Alice,” he groaned, his fingers tightening in her hair as she took him deep into her throat.
She pulled back, swirling her tongue around the head, collecting every trace. “I can taste her pussy,” she whispered, looking up at him, her eyes dark. “It’s all over you. I want you to fuck me with this dick and tell me more about your time with her.”
He didn’t need telling twice. Rick pushed her onto her back, the mattress sighing beneath them, and drove into her with a single, reclaiming thrust that forced the air from her lungs in a sharp gasp. He set a deep, possessive rhythm, his eyes locked on hers, his hips meeting hers with a solid, wet sound. “She came twice,” he grunted, his voice strained with the effort of speaking and fucking. “The second time, she was so loud.”
Alice’s head rolled back, her nails scoring his shoulders. “How?” she demanded, her own voice cracking as he hit a spot that sparked white behind her eyelids. “How was she loud?”
“Screaming,” he panted, his pace quickening. “A fucking broken scream when I pinned her legs back.” He demonstrated, hooking his hands under her knees and driving her wider, deeper. The change in angle made her cry out, a sharp, answering sound. “Like that, yeah. Just like that.”
She was close, the coil tightening unbearably, fed more by his words than by the friction. “Did you kiss her?” she breathed, her hips matching his frantic pace. “Tell me.”
Rick shook his head, sweat dripping from his brow onto her chest. “No. Just fucked her.” He was chasing his own end now, his movements becoming ragged. “Your turn. Did he make you come?”
“Yes,” she moaned, the confession tumbling out. “Hard.” She offered no more, her focus entirely on the story he was giving her. “Was she tight? Was she tighter than me?”
He let out a choked laugh, his control shattering. “God, no, but she felt amazing, almost as good as you" he grunted clearly close.
Alice familiar with his noises stops him. "Slow down and pause a minute lover, dont cum yet, I want more than that. big boy"
He froze, shuddering with the effort, his cock throbbing inside her as he held still. "What more do you want?" he breathed, his voice ragged. She clenched around him, a slow, deliberate pulse, and watched the conflict in his eyes—shyness warring with a dark, new hunger she’d unleashed.
"Details," she whispered, rolling her hips to feel him twitch. "What did her cunt look like? Did she shave or was there hair?" His breath hitched; this was a level of graphic sharing they’d never crossed. "Tell me, or I won’t let you finish."
"Shaved," he grunted, the word torn from him. "Neat, and she was so pink, glistening." He began moving again, shallow, desperate thrusts, compelled by his own confession. "She tasted clean, a little sweet, when I went down on her."
Alice moaned, her own arousal spiking at the image. "Did you like it? Licking her?" "Yes," he admitted, his forehead dropping to hers. "And she kept saying 'just like that,' her hands in my hair." He was fucking her in earnest now, each drive punctuating a sentence. "I made her come with my tongue first."
"Good," Alice gasped, arching to meet him. "Now fuck me like you’re still thinking about her pussy." He obeyed, his rhythm turning punishing, a frantic piston of hips and sweat-slicked skin. "I am," he panted, "I’m thinking of her tight little cunt, but you feel so much fucking better, Alice, god—"
She could feel his balls tightening, the imminent surge. "Then give it to me," she demanded, digging her heels into his back. "Cum in me where he was." The permission shattered him. With a raw, broken shout, he plunged deep and held, his release pumping hot into her in violent pulses.
She clenched around him, milking every drop, her own climax ripping through her a second later, a silent, breathless convulsion. They collapsed together, a tangled mess of limbs and cooling sweat, the room silent except for their ragged breaths. After a long moment, he softened and slipped out, followed by a slow, warm trickle onto the sheet.
He rolled onto his side, facing her, his fingers tracing the line of her jaw. "Your turn," he said quietly, his earlier shyness returning but layered now with a deep, sated curiosity. "The man... did he... hurt you?" Alice caught his hand, kissed his palm, tasting salt and sex. "No," she said, holding his gaze. "He just used me. It was exactly what I wanted."
She saw a flicker in his eyes, not jealousy, but a dark fascination. "Show me," he whispered. Alice smiled, a slow, wicked thing, and turned onto her stomach, presenting herself. "He took me here," she said, her voice low. "It’s still sore. Want to see?"