Chapter 1: Fucking Reagan's ass hard
The hotel room air was thick, not just with the heat of their bodies, but with the scent of blown-out candles and her perfume. Reagan’s laugh was a low, breathy thing as she shifted her weight, her thighs framing Shawn’s face. The plush comforter was a rumpled sea of white beneath them.
“You look so fucking good right there,” she breathed, looking down at him. Her fingers threaded through his hair, not guiding, just claiming. She could feel his breath, hot and steady, against her. “All yours, baby. It’s all for you.”
Shawn’s answer was a murmur against her skin, a vibration that made her hips jerk. Then his mouth was on her, not tentative, not asking, just taking. He licked a slow, firm stripe through her folds and she gasped, her head falling back. “Oh, fuck. Yes. Just like that.”
Her world narrowed to the wet, rhythmic pressure of his tongue. He was thorough, alternating between broad, flattening strokes and pointed, insistent flicks right where she needed him most. She rode his face, a slow, grinding roll of her hips, meeting every lap and suck. One of his hands gripped her ass, fingers digging into the soft flesh, holding her steady while he worked her over.
“You taste so goddamn good,” he growled, the words muffled against her.
“Deeper,” she commanded, her voice already ragged. He obliged, his tongue plunging inside her, fucking her with it, and she moaned, loud and unfiltered. The sound echoed off the silent walls. Her own hands were busy, one braced on the headboard, the other trailing down her own stomach, tweaking a nipple, before sliding back to where they were joined. She let her fingertips glide over his stubbled jaw, feeling the muscle work.
Then his other hand, the one not gripping her ass, moved. A single slick finger, glistening from her, pressed firmly against the tight ring of muscle beside his mouth. He circled it, once, twice, the pressure a shocking, delicious contrast. Reagan went utterly still for a second, a sharp intake of breath hissing through her teeth.
“Do it,” she whispered. “Don’t you fucking tease me, Shawn. Put it in.”
He pushed. Just the tip, a slow, burning invasion that made her see stars. He kept eating her out, his tongue never slowing its relentless rhythm, as his finger worked deeper, inch by impossible inch. The dual sensations, the wet heat of his mouth and the sharp, full stretch from behind, coiled a tension in her gut so tight she thought she might snap.
“You’re so fucking tight here,” he muttered, his voice raw. He crooked the finger inside her, and she cried out, her back arching violently.
it.”
He added a second finger, stretching her wider, a burning, perfect ache. His pace with his tongue became frantic, sloppy, focused entirely on her clit now, sucking and licking as his fingers pistoned in and out of her ass in a deep, rhythmic counterpoint.
“You like that, don’t you?” he grunted, his breath coming hard. “You like getting your ass played with while I eat this sweet pussy.”
“Yes! God, yes, I love it!” she screamed. The filthy talk sent a jolt straight through her. Her composure was shattering. “I’m your good girl, your dirty fucking girl, aren’t I?”
“You’re my slut,” he said, the words a dark promise. “My perfect, greedy slut. You’re gonna come all over my face. Do it. Come for me right now.”
It was the command that undid her. The coil snapped. Pleasure, white-hot and electric, tore through her in brutal, relentless waves. Her body clenched around his fingers, convulsing, and she ground herself down onto his mouth, riding out the shockwave with a series of broken, sobbing cries. The room blurred, the only real things the invasive stretch of his fingers and the ruthless suction of his lips and tongue.
She slumped forward, spent, her body trembling. Gently, he withdrew his fingers. She lifted herself off him, collapsing onto the bed beside his head. She was panting, slick with sweat, her heart hammering against her ribs. Shawn turned his head toward her, his mouth and chin glistening wetly in the low light. He looked utterly debauched, and she’d never seen anything sexier.
He grinned, a wicked, satisfied thing. “Tasty.”
She reached out a shaky hand, swiping her thumb across his bottom lip. “You’re a mess.”
“Your mess.” He leaned in and kissed her, deep and slow, letting her taste herself on his tongue. It was intimate, grounding. The frantic energy bled away, leaving a heavy, sated calm.
After a long moment, she broke the kiss, resting her forehead against his. Their breathing began to sync. Outside, the faint hum of the city was a distant rumor. In here, there was only the sound of their shared peace, the cooling sheets, and the unspoken promise that this was just the beginning of the night. She traced the line of his jaw, her green eyes dark with affection and leftover fire.
“So,” she whispered, a new, playful curve on her lips. “What’s next?”
“What’s next?”
A slow, wicked smile spread across her swollen lips. She let her green eyes travel down the length of his body, noting the thick, hard line of his cock straining against his stomach. “My turn to taste.”
She pushed him back until he was sitting on the edge of the bed, his legs spread. The lamp light carved the muscles of his abdomen into sharp relief. She knelt between his knees, her fiery hair brushing his thighs as she leaned forward. She didn’t hesitate. She took the head of his cock into her mouth, swirling her tongue around the ridge, tasting the salt and musk of him.
“Fuck, Reagan,” he gasped, his hands coming to rest in her hair.
She took him deeper, her mouth a wet, tight heat. She moved with a hungry rhythm, one hand working the base of his shaft, the other fondling his balls. She looked up at him, her eyes glazed with lust, and the sight of her like that—lips stretched, cheeks hollowed—made his gut clench. She sucked him hard, pulling desperate groans from his chest, her saliva slicking his length. She dragged her teeth lightly along the sensitive underside, and he jerked, his fingers tightening in her hair.
“Gonna make me come already, you greedy bitch,” he warned, his voice rough.
She released him with a wet pop, a string of saliva connecting her lip to his glistening tip. “Not yet,” she breathed. “I want something else.”
She turned around, presenting the full, round curve of her ass to him. She reached back and spread herself open, offering him the view of her pink, swollen folds and the tighter, darker pucker he’d just fingered. She guided him, the head of his cock pressing against that forbidden entrance. “Here,” she whispered. “I want you here.”
She lowered herself slowly, an exquisite, burning descent that stole the air from both their lungs. He watched, mesmerized, as she took him, inch by impossible inch, her body yielding to his with a tight, clutching heat that was almost too much. A guttural groan tore from his throat. She sank all the way down until she was seated fully, his hips pressed flush against her ass.
For a moment, she just stayed there, both of them trembling, letting their bodies adjust to the intense, full feeling. Then she began to move. A slow, rolling grind of her hips, lifting herself almost all the way off before sinking back down. He held her hips, his fingers digging into the soft flesh, guiding the pace.
“That’s it,” he muttered. “Ride that cock. Take all of it.”
She moved faster, her breaths coming in sharp pants. “It’s so deep. God, you’re so deep in my ass.”
The filthy admission shattered his control. He took over, his hands locking onto her hips like vices. He started thrusting up into her, meeting her downward strokes with powerful drives of his own. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, a rhythmic, obscene counterpoint to their moans.
“You like that?” he grunted, burying himself to the root with every upward surge. “You like getting your ass fucked full of my cock?”
“Yes! Harder, Shawn, please, fuck me harder!” she begged, her voice breaking. She braced her hands on his knees, pushing back against him, taking him deeper. “It’s yours. My ass is yours. Wreck it. Make me feel it tomorrow.”
He pounded into her, each thrust a jolt of pure, animal sensation. The room dissolved into heat and sweat and the raw, primal sound of their joining. She was tight, so impossibly tight, and the friction was overwhelming.
“Tell me what you want,” he demanded, his own climax coiling tight at the base of his spine.
“I want you to come!” she cried, her body starting to shake. “Fill my ass up. I want to feel you pump that hot fucking load deep inside me. Do it, baby, please, I’m so close!”
Her words tipped her over the edge. Her inner muscles fluttered and clenched around him in violent, rippling spasms. Her whole body went rigid as a silent scream ripped through her, the orgasm wracking her with such force she saw white behind her eyelids. The intense, pulsing tightness of her climax milked him, tore his own release from him.
With a final, brutal thrust, he buried himself as deep as he could go and let go. A raw shout erupted from his chest as he came, jets of his cum painting the inside of her ass in hot, urgent pulses. He held her there, impaled, as the last tremors shook them both.
They collapsed forward onto the bed in a tangled, sweating heap, his body still half-covering hers. The only sound was their ragged, struggling breaths. After a long moment, he softened and slipped out of her. She winced slightly, a full, aching tenderness settling in her muscles.
He rolled onto his back, pulling her with him, tucking her against his side. His heart hammered against her ear. He pressed a kiss to her damp forehead. “You’re fucking incredible.”
She traced idle patterns on his chest, a sated, heavy-limbed calm wrapping around them. Outside, a siren wailed in the distance, a reminder of a world that kept spinning. In here, for now, it had stopped just for them. She smiled against his skin, knowing the night was still young, and that their hunger for each other always returned, quicker than either of them expected.
She smiled against his skin, knowing the night was still young, and that their hunger for each other always returned, quicker than either of them expected.
It did.
Twice more before dawn, tangled in sheets that smelled of sex and sweat. Once with her on her knees, him driving into her from behind while she clutched the headboard, her cries muffled by the pillow. Later, with him lying back as she straddled his hips, riding him slowly, her eyes locked on his until they both shattered. They slept in brief, exhausted bursts, their bodies a maze of limbs.
Sunlight, sharp and accusing, cut through a gap in the blackout curtains. Shawn blinked awake. The room was a disaster of room service carts, empty bottles, and discarded clothing. Reagan was a warm weight against his back, her breathing deep and even. He carefully extracted himself, the cool air hitting his damp skin. He stood, stretching, feeling the pleasant ache in his muscles. He needed a shower.
The water was scalding, beating the last of the sleep from his system. He washed off the night, the scent of her, the sweat, feeling a clean slate form under the steam. He wrapped a towel around his waist and pushed the bathroom door open, a cloud of vapor following him into the room.
He stopped.
Reagan was awake. She lay on her back in the center of the demolished bed, the sheet pooled around her hips. One hand was pinned beneath her head, her fiery hair fanning out. The other was between her legs.
Her eyes were closed, her lips parted. Her fingers moved with a slow, knowing rhythm beneath the blanket of her curls, a quiet, wet sound whispering in the silent room. She bit her lower lip, a soft sigh escaping her. The morning light gilded the curve of her breast, the line of her throat as it arched.
Shawn leaned against the doorframe, his mouth going dry. He just watched, the towel suddenly feeling restrictive.
Her eyes fluttered open. She saw him. She didn’t stop. A slow, filthy smile spread across her face. She held his gaze as she brought her glistening fingers to her mouth. She licked them, one by one, with deliberate slowness, her tongue cleaning every trace of herself. Her green eyes darkened, challenging him.
“Morning,” she rasped.
“You’re insatiable,” he said, his voice rough.
“You love it.” She beckoned him with a curl of her finger. “I had a dream. A really good one. Woke up all wet and empty.”
He walked to the edge of the bed, letting the towel fall. He was already hard. “And what do you need?”
“Your cock,” she said simply, her tone shifting from playful to a low, urgent demand. “In my mouth. Right now. I want to taste us. I want you to fuck my face and dump your load down my throat.”
Her words, so crude and direct, hit him like a physical blow. He climbed onto the bed, kneeling over her. She immediately turned her head, nuzzling against his length, breathing him in. “You’re so hard for me already. Fucking perfect.”
She opened her mouth, taking just the head, swirling her tongue around the tip. A low groan rumbled in his chest. She pulled off, looking up at him. “No hands. Just use me. My mouth is your pussy this morning. Come all the way in. I want to choke on it.”
He threaded his hands into her hair, not gentle. She moaned around him, the vibration traveling straight to his spine. He started slow, a shallow push past her lips. Her tongue was flat and eager, caressing his underside.
“That’s it,” she gurgled, her words distorted. “Give it to me.”
He increased the pace, his hips pumping, driving himself deeper into the wet, willing heat of her mouth. She took him, her throat relaxing on each forward thrust, a wet, obscene sound punctuating every movement. Her eyes watered, but she held his gaze, a look of pure ecstasy on her face. Saliva dripped down her chin.
“You look so fucking good like this,” he grunted, his control fraying. “My dirty little cocksleeve. You really are just a set of holes for me, aren’t you?”
She hummed in agreement, the sound a desperate, needy affirmation. Her hands gripped his thighs, urging him on.
“You want my cum?” he demanded, his thrusts becoming harder, more erratic. “You wanna swallow every last drop like a good slut?”
Her eyes, wide and pleading, screamed yes. She managed a frantic nod, her nose pressed against his skin.
“Then get ready. Open up. Take it all.”
He let go. A final, deep thrust, burying himself to the root. He held there, throbbing, as the first hot pulse shot directly down her throat. She swallowed convulsively, her body tensing beneath him. He cried out, pouring himself into her, release after release, each spurt forced down by the rhythmic clenching of her throat. She took it, drinking him down, a low, continuous moan of satisfaction vibrating against him.
When he was spent, he slipped out, collapsing beside her. She gasped for air, a string of spit and cum connecting her lips to him. She swiped her tongue over her lips, chasing the last taste, then swallowed with a satisfied sigh.
She rolled onto her side, facing him, a blissful, wrecked smile on her face. “Breakfast of champions,” she whispered, her voice hoarse.
He pulled her close, kissing her forehead, tasting the salt on her skin. The sun climbed higher, illuminating the dust motes dancing in the air. The city outside was fully awake. But in their ruined sanctuary, for a few moments more, there was only the sound of their breathing, and the quiet, profound understanding that this was a language only they spoke.