Sunlight poured over the deck like warm silk, catching on skin, glassware, and the slow smiles of people who’d slept great.

It was Sunday morning at Taylor’s riverside retreat, and the kitchen buzzed with lazy movement—smoothies blending, coffee pouring, bare feet padding across cool floors. Taylor moved with her usual quiet grace in a tiny white tank and linen shorts, while Lisa curled up in a silk robe, legs crossed, sipping green juice like it was champagne. Sadie leaned against the counter in a slate-gray bodysuit, toned and glowing, her gaze soft but electric.

Ryan sat at the table in loose shorts and no shirt. There was teasing, leftover heat, and the kind of closeness that lingered after a weekend like this.

Soon, it was time to go.

Sadie’s black Audi cut through the winding forest road like a knife, the last glimpses of the retreat flickering in the rearview. The windows were down, warm summer air spilling in, tousling Ryan’s hair and brushing over Sadie’s bare legs. She drove barefoot, one foot tucked under her on the leather seat, her slate-gray bodysuit hugging her yoga-toned frame like it was made for her alone.

They rode in a comfortable hush, the kind that only comes after something decadent. They’d all indulged in something primal, something honest—and it lingered in the silence, in the look she gave him at every red light.

“You looked so fucking good this weekend,” Sadie said finally, her voice low but excited. “But watching you double-penetrate Lisa?”

Ryan glanced at her, smirking. “You liked that?”

Sadie nodded, eyes still on the road. “She was in another dimension. And Taylor... the way you filled her up, slow, deep—watching her cum all over your cock? That’s burned into my brain.”

He chuckled, easy and unbothered. “You were watching a lot.”

They pulled up to Ryan’s building around noon. A sleek tower of glass and steel rising from the heart of downtown, the kind of place where everything was curated—from the concierge to the scent in the lobby. Sadie idled at the curb, the Audi purring beneath them.

Ryan slung his weekend bag over one shoulder and turned to her. She had one hand on the wheel, the other trailing idle circles on her thigh. Her sunglasses were on, but her smile was unmistakably wicked.

“What’s your week look like?” she asked.

“Big deal for Claudia’s firm,” he said. “Downtown project. And I’m going to some gala Wednesday night. Mercer Island.”

She lifted an eyebrow. “You in a tux. That’s a dangerous idea.”

He smirked. “I’ll try not to cause trouble.”

Sadie tilted her head, voice softening. “I’ll be in L.A. all week. Consulting gig. Big one.”

“Of course you will.”

She leaned in just a touch. “Don’t worry. I’ll send you something while I’m gone.”

Ryan arched a brow. “Something I can open in public?”

Her smile spread slowly. “Only if you want to get arrested.”

He kissed her cheek—slow, deliberate—then stepped out. Her laughter followed him all the way to the elevator.

The week moved fast. A blur of espresso, glass conference tables, and skyline views from Claudia Moretti’s high-floor offices downtown.

Ryan looked good in a suit—he knew that. And he looked even better when he was closing a deal worth seven figures.

Claudia knew that, too.

She stood beside him in the boardroom as the final signatures went down, dark eyes sharp and amused behind thick-rimmed glasses. Black silk blouse, tailored pants, a gold cuff on one wrist. She looked like what she was—an architect who built empires and wore perfume that cost more than most people’s rent.

When the room cleared, she turned to him and clinked her water glass against his.

“Nicely done,” she said. “That one’s going to keep the lights on for a while.”

Ryan smiled. “Glad I could keep the lights on in your penthouse.”

Claudia gave him a slow, approving look. “I like you, Ryan. You know how to play the game without asking for permission.”

She reached into her drawer and pulled out her phone, flipping through a few photos before handing it to him.

“Take a weekend soon. My place in the San Juans is yours whenever you want. It’s peaceful. Private.”

Ryan looked at the image—stone and glass tucked into a cliffside, a pool over blue water.

“Looks ridiculous.”

“It is,” Claudia said. “Go get lost sometime.”

Midweek, and it felt nothing like work.

Ryan stepped out of the black town car into golden twilight, adjusting the jacket of his perfectly tailored tuxedo. Slim-cut, jet black, custom—clean lines against his broad shoulders, crisp white shirt open just enough at the collar to keep it casual. Not showy. Just sharp. At 35, Ryan was young enough to surprise people, and successful enough that he didn't care about the others.

Beside him, Claudia Moretti was a vision of curated power. Fifty years old, though she could easily pass for early forties. Her Italian features aged like something carved in marble—high cheekbones, olive skin, striking dark eyes. Her long black dress skimmed her frame like poured silk, low-cut in the back, a delicate diamond chain trailing down her spine. Her heels clicked softly on the stone walkway as she took in the scene.

The house was perched high on Mercer Island’s billionaire row, one of Claudia’s early projects—modern and minimalist, all glass and steel, designed to dissolve into the trees. The kind of place where the view was the architecture.

The gala had already begun. Laughter and jazz floated out over the lawn, a string quartet warming up near the glass wall that opened onto a sprawling terrace. Waiters drifted by with silver trays. Champagne. Caviar. That sort of night.

“Nice to see it’s held up,” Claudia murmured, scanning the lines of the building with a quiet pride.

Ryan glanced at her. “You built a fortress.”

“I built a legacy,” she said. Then glanced at him with a smirk. “You clean up well.”

He adjusted his cufflinks. “It’s Wednesday night. I save my best tux for Wednesdays.”

She laughed lightly, threading her arm through his. “Come on. Let’s dazzle the donors.”

Inside, the space pulsed with the energy of real money—tech, legacy wealth, old Seattle families mixed with new billionaires. Claudia moved through it like she belonged, and Ryan followed a step behind, soaking in the view. He didn’t need to talk much here. Just stand still and let people wonder who he was.

Claudia glanced back at him. “Mingle if you want. I’ll be working the room.”

He gave a slight nod. “Just don’t sell me to the highest bidder.”

“No promises.”

The ballroom was already buzzing when Ryan stepped inside, the doors opening into a space that shimmered with curated luxury.

A suited man with slicked-back hair and polished shoes handed him a glass of champagne without a word. Claudia had already disappeared—air-kissing donors, laughing with CEOs, scanning the room like a general in a low-cut black dress.

Ryan paused just past the threshold, letting it all sink in.

He looked the part—black tuxedo, tailored to perfection, crisp white shirt open at the neck. The sleeves hugged his forearms just enough to show his strength without trying. His watch gleamed subtly on his wrist—dark leather band, slim, understated. A gift from Claudia, after he’d pulled off a deal that saved her millions.

The room smelled like money and expensive perfume. Jazz floated just under the buzz of conversation. Ice clinked softly. Glasses sparkled in warm, flattering lighting.

He took a slow sip of champagne and wandered.

It was a scene: perfectly aged men in tuxedos with thinner, younger wives on their arms. Art on the walls, but no one looking at it. Waiters moved in tight patterns, offering oysters, tuna crudo, miniature blinis. On the lawn outside, the lake caught the last blush of the day.

He got looks. Women. Wives. Fiancées. Rich, bored, manicured. They clocked him immediately—tall, fit, unaccompanied. A few smiles. A smirk or two. One woman stared too long while her husband talked to a city councilman.

Ryan didn’t mind. He liked being underestimated.

“God, you always look like you just walked off a movie set,” came a voice to his left.

He turned—instantly smiling. “Vanessa. I was hoping I’d see you here.”

Vanessa Ashcroft. Senior partner at one of the oldest firms downtown. Sharp as hell. Forty-something, long auburn hair in soft waves, killer legs in black stilettos. Her dress was dark green silk with a deep V and a side slit up to the hip—flawless skin, toned arms. No one ever guessed she was gay, and she broke a lot of men's hearts.

They hugged.

“I thought Claudia might bring you,” she said, taking his champagne and sipping it. “She doesn’t go to these things without a shark in her pocket.”

Ryan laughed. “I’m just here for the oysters.”

Vanessa leaned in. “And maybe the scenery.”

They stood together a moment, scanning the crowd.

“Lot of young wives tonight,” Ryan said.

“Too young for their husbands,” Vanessa replied, sipping again. “I’ve seen more Botox and stepdaughters than actual donors.”

They both laughed, quietly.

Then Vanessa went still. “Wow. Look at her.”

Ryan followed her gaze across the room.

He saw the hair first—red, deep and vibrant, glossy waves pulled over one shoulder. Then the dress: a sleek, sculpted gown in bold crimson, the kind of red that dared you to stare. It clung to her like it had been made for her body—cut high on one leg, dipping low in the back, a tasteful plunge at the front showing just enough to want more. Satin shimmered under the soft light, catching on every curve.

Diamond earrings sparkled as she turned.

McKenna.

She was talking to someone, but her eyes were scanning. Then she saw him.

And smiled.

She didn’t rush. Just gave a quick goodbye, said something that made the older man in front of her laugh, then started walking toward them—slow, elegant, confident. In her element.

McKenna Lang. 32 years old. Top news personality in the region, flawless on camera, even more so in person. A public face at a private event, one foot in the glittering world of society and the other grounded in newsrooms.

Vanessa gave Ryan a look. “You know her?”

He nodded slowly. “We’ve met.”

McKenna was ten steps away now, each one deliberate. Her lipstick matched the dress. Her heels clicked softly against the polished floor. She didn’t glance around. She didn’t need to.

Every eye would find her soon enough.

McKenna reached them with a practiced smile, her eyes flicking between the two of them—cool, confident, poised in that show-stopping red dress like it was another broadcast set.

Vanessa smiled first. “Wow. You look incredible.”

McKenna gave a little laugh, modest but knowing. “Thank you. This old thing?”

Ryan let his eyes move over her, slowly. He took a sip of his champagne before saying, “McKenna.”

Her eyes landed on him, a flicker of amusement behind them. “Ryan. Fancy seeing you here.”

Vanessa looked between them with a smirk. “You two know each other?”

McKenna paused, then nodded once. “Through mutual friends.”

It was only four nights ago.

She had been straddling his face in Taylor’s candlelit yoga studio, her perfect red hair loose around her shoulders, thighs trembling as she came on his tongue. Ryan had his hands full—her hips grinding above him, another man’s cock buried in her mouth as she moaned into it. Then later, she had climbed on top of him, slow and sensual, riding him with the rhythm of someone who knew exactly what her body could do. Her breasts swayed above his face, heavy and beautiful, soft in his palms and sweet in his mouth.

He shifted slightly now, adjusting the way his pants fit across his lap.

Her breasts—those very same breasts—were barely hidden at all tonight. The red satin clung to them, framed by that deep neckline. She wasn’t wearing a bra. He was sure of it.

McKenna looked between him and Vanessa, perfectly composed. “You two here for Claudia’s thing?”

“She dragged us in,” Ryan said with a grin. “Charity and cocktails.”

McKenna’s mouth curved. “Well, I’m glad I ran into you. You clean up well.”

“You too,” he said, voice low.

She arched an eyebrow. “I was beginning to think I wouldn’t see you again.”

Vanessa sipped her drink, clearly entertained. “Should I leave you two?”

McKenna turned to her with a grin. “Oh no, I’m being very well-behaved.”

Ryan gave her a look. “For now.”

A quick flash in her eyes—something private, something remembered. But she didn’t bite. Just leaned in slightly.

“Well,” she said, brushing her fingers lightly down Ryan’s arm, “I’ll see you later. I’m sure we’ll find each other again.”

She turned and walked away.

Ryan’s eyes dropped—there it was, the sway of her hips, the high slit of the dress showing just enough leg, the fabric hugging every curve like it had been poured onto her body.

Vanessa let out a low whistle. “Damn. That woman is dangerous.”

Ryan didn’t speak. Just nodded once, slowly. Then lifted his champagne to his lips and drank.

His eyes didn’t leave McKenna until she disappeared into the crowd.

Ryan stood near the end of the buffet, eyeing a tray of delicate appetizers—some kind of fig wrapped in bacon, skewered with gold-tipped toothpicks. He reached for one just as someone brushed lightly against his arm.

He turned.

It was McKenna.

She didn’t look at him at first. Just leaned slightly closer, her hand hovering above a platter of smoked salmon on toast. Her perfume—something expensive and floral—hit him like a memory. Like her skin in the candlelight.

“Sadie told me you’d be here,” McKenna murmured, her voice barely louder than the music.

Ryan tilted his head slightly toward her. “Did she.”

McKenna’s lips curved, still looking at the food like nothing out of the ordinary was happening. “She said you might need some company this week. That I should look out for you.”

He said nothing. Just watched her, amused and increasingly turned on.

She leaned in a breath closer. “I think she meant that I should keep you entertained.”

Then, smooth as anything, she slid her hand along his side and slipped something into the inner pocket of his tuxedo jacket.

“Meet me out front,” she said. “Thirty minutes.”

And just like that, she turned and walked away, hips swaying with subtle precision beneath that red dress.

Ryan blinked. His heart was definitely beating faster. He reached into his jacket, fingers brushing soft lace.

He pulled it partway out—red, delicate.

A lace thong.

Still warm.

He looked up. McKenna was already gone, swallowed into the crowd of wealthy donors and bored trophy wives.

He stuffed the fabric back in his pocket and popped the bacon-wrapped fig into his mouth.

Thirty minutes.

Suddenly, this party wasn’t so boring after all.

Ryan stepped out into the warm night. The valet at the entrance gave him a slight nod.

“This way, sir.”

Ryan followed him down the curved stone drive. The sun was dipping behind the trees, casting long golden shadows across the line of black cars.

The valet opened the door of a sleek black Mercedes.

McKenna was already in the back seat, legs crossed, red dress glowing in the low light.

“Hi, beautiful,” she said, smiling wide—exactly the way she had four nights ago at Taylor’s house. Her eyes glimmered. “Wouldn’t want you leaving alone, looking like that.”

Ryan smirked, sliding in beside her. “I could say the same about you.”

McKenna turned toward the driver. “Downtown, please.” She gave him an address.

The car pulled forward, smooth and quiet. They climbed onto I-90, the city unfolding ahead. The lake below shimmered in the late evening light—boats scattered like confetti across the water. Everything outside felt cool and slow. Everything inside the car felt warmer than it should.

McKenna’s bare leg brushed against his slacks as she shifted slightly toward him.

Neither of them spoke.

The Mercedes pulled up to a modern high-rise in the heart of downtown. Glass and steel caught the last of the sunset, painting sharp lines across the pavement. The driver rounded to open McKenna’s door first. She stepped out gracefully, then extended a hand to Ryan. He took it.

She slipped her arm through his as they walked into the building.

Inside, the lobby was quiet and elegant. Marble floors, tall wood-paneled walls, the faint scent of citrus and leather. An older man in a charcoal uniform stood behind the front desk, posture straight but his smile kind.

“Hi, John,” McKenna said as they passed. “I hope the grandkids are good.”

John gave a respectful nod. “Of course, Miss McKenna. I’ll give them your best.”

McKenna smiled, eyes still ahead, leading Ryan toward the elevator without missing a beat.

Ryan glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. That same confidence. That same poise. And under it, that same wild streak he’d felt when she was straddling his face in Taylor’s studio.

He adjusted slightly in his tux as the elevator doors slid open.

This night wasn’t over. Not even close.

The elevator dinged softly, its interior aglow with warm golden light as they stepped inside.

As soon as the doors slid shut, McKenna turned. No hesitation.

She pressed Ryan back against the wall, her body flush with his, and kissed him hard.

Deep. Possessive. Her bright red lipstick smeared across his mouth, his cheek, marking him. He didn’t care—if anything, it turned him on more. She slid one hand down his chest, the other directly to his cock, rubbing slow circles through the fine wool of his tailored pants.

He was already rock hard.

“Fuck,” she murmured against his mouth, feeling the size of him. “Still just as good.”

Ryan gripped her ass with both hands, taking a firm handful of the soft fabric and toned muscle beneath it. Her breasts pressed into his chest—barely contained by the deep plunge of her elegant dress.

The elevator dinged again.

McKenna broke the kiss with a sultry laugh, lipstick now smudged on both of them. She grabbed his hand, practically bouncing out of the elevator in her heels.

“Come on,” she whispered, still giggling.

They walked down a quiet hallway, her hand tight in his, until she stopped at a black lacquered door. A quick tap of her key fob and they were inside.

The condo was modern and open, with floor-to-ceiling windows that framed a narrow slice of Elliott Bay. The night sky was clear, the Sound reflecting city lights like scattered coins.

McKenna tossed her clutch on a side table.

“Welcome,” she said, turning toward him, slightly breathless. “The news salary doesn’t pay for this, obviously.”

Ryan glanced around. High ceilings, clean lines, expensive furniture in soft neutrals.

She shrugged with a little grin. “Old family money. The condo’s mine, but I just like being on the news. Especially the morning slot.”

He raised a brow.

She continued, loosening her hair from one shoulder with a practiced flick. “No depressing headlines. No politics. I get the fun segments—sunrise yoga on rooftops, trendy chefs making vegan ceviche, puppy adoptions.”

She stepped closer, playful now. Her fingers traced the edge of his tux lapel. “And honestly? I like the camera. Knowing people are watching.”

Her voice dropped just slightly.

“You’d be surprised how many things I do just a little better when I know someone’s paying attention.”

McKenna sank onto the low couch with a soft exhale, the kind that said her body had been waiting for this moment all night. The dress moved like water around her—bold red silk that pooled along the cushions, the slit riding higher to reveal smooth, toned calves. Her legs crossed slowly, deliberately. Those heels—sharp, expensive, crimson—were a perfect match to her lipstick, to the dress, to her whole confident, seductive presence.

She tilted her head, one eyebrow raised. “Would you mind?” she said softly. “My feet are killing me.”

Ryan was already moving, lowering to one knee in front of her. His tux still sharp, pressed, perfect—even as his hands slipped under the hem of her dress.

“Of course,” he murmured.

He reached for her left foot, unfastening the delicate strap with care, then sliding the heel off. She let out a quiet sigh of relief, tipping her head back slightly. Her fingers were already in his hair, stroking gently, tracing along his scalp.

Then the other. Another slow movement, another quiet sigh.

Still on one knee, Ryan lifted her foot and began to massage it, thumbs working slowly and firmly along the arch, then the ball, then each toe. McKenna let her body melt into the couch, one leg draped over the other, her lips parted in pleasure.

“Mmm,” she purred. “God, that feels good. You’re way too good at this.”

He didn’t respond, just moved up her ankle with steady, sensual pressure. Her skin was flawless. Toned calves, smooth from yoga and Pilates, tightened and released under his touch. He worked his way slowly, deliberately, switching to the other leg—taking his time.

She leaned back deeper into the cushions, one arm sprawled along the top of the couch, the other lazily resting on her stomach. Her wavy red hair tumbled down across her shoulder, catching the light. Green eyes caught his from above, half-lidded, shining with something between pleasure and hunger.

“You know,” she said, voice low and even, “I’ve been thinking about you all week.”

He didn’t stop. His hands slowed, his eyes locked to hers.

She smiled, slow and wicked.

“About riding your dick. How good it felt. How deep you were. That perfect view…” She trailed off, eyes narrowing slightly as her smile turned knowing. “You were so good to me.”

Her voice was light, but there was something serious in it too. A weight in the way she looked at him, still playing with his hair, like she could feel his pulse under her fingertips.

“Wanna remind me how good you can be?” she asked, barely above a whisper.

She slid her bare foot up the inside of his thigh.

Ryan’s hands began gliding higher, exploring the soft terrain of McKenna’s thighs. Her legs parted slightly under his touch—unspoken invitation. No panties, of course. He could still feel them in his pocket.

He reached in, pulling out the small scrap of red lace. Lounge. Delicate. Barely anything at all. He held the thong between two fingers, eyes locked with hers as he brought it to his face. He took a slow, deep breath in—long enough to make her pulse flutter. Then he let them fall to the floor.

McKenna stood in one graceful movement, the dress rippling around her thighs. “Help me out of this thing,” she said, already turning away.

The back was low, plunging all the way down to her waist. No bra. Just smooth, bare skin. She pulled her red hair over one shoulder, revealing everything.

Ryan let his fingertips trail lightly up her spine. She gasped, breath catching as his lips brushed her neck, then her shoulder—sensual, teasing, slow. A delicate shiver ran the length of her body. He slid a finger under one strap, then the other, easing them off.

The dress fell like water.

It slipped down her back, her waist, and pooled at her feet. She stepped out of it, naked now, her ass high and full in front of him. She leaned back, slowly grinding against his body, then turned to face him.

“Your turn,” she said, voice low.

She untied his bowtie with a playful flick and tossed it over her shoulder. Then she started on the buttons of his shirt—slow, deliberate. Her fingertips grazed the line of his chest, his abs, pausing to trace the faint ridges of his muscles.

She slid the jacket and shirt off in one fluid motion. Her nails—perfectly manicured, matching the red of her lipstick, her dress, her panties—ran gently down his torso. She made a sound of approval, low in her throat, then stepped back.

McKenna lowered herself onto the couch again, her face now level with his waist.

She looked up at him with green eyes, heat and intent in every detail.

Her fingers undid his belt. The leather slipped free. The button next. The zipper.

Still looking up at him, she eased his pants and underwear down. They dropped to the floor in a soft thud. Only then did she break eye contact—just long enough to take in the sight of him.

Ryan stood there, fully exposed, his cock hard and throbbing inches from her lips.

“Yum,” McKenna murmured, wrapping her fingers around his shaft. She gave it a slow stroke, base to tip, the pads of her fingers gliding smoothly over his skin.

Then she leaned in and took one of his balls into her mouth, warm and wet. Her tongue moved gently, swirling around it, while her hand continued to stroke him with lazy precision. Ryan was shaved clean, every part of him sensitive under her expert touch.

She kissed his shaft, slowly, then dragged her tongue from base to tip. A swirl around the crown. Another soft kiss back down. His body tensed at the contact, pleasure flashing through his core. She licked the tip again, slower this time, drawing a tremor from his hips.

And then she took him in.

Just a few inches at first. Wet. Warm. Sweet. A smudge of red lipstick marked his shaft like a seal.

She moved deeper. Inch by inch, until all eight inches disappeared between her lips. Her throat swallowed him effortlessly. No gag, no hesitation. She surfaced with a sharp gasp for air, eyes slightly wet, her breath hot on his skin.

Then she started to really suck him.

Her hand worked his shaft in rhythm as she took him in again, harder now. Hungrier. She slurped around him with abandon, spit trailing down his length. It clung to her hand as she stroked him faster.

Ryan’s hands moved on instinct, fingers sliding into her hair, long, soft, red. He wrapped it around his knuckles, guiding her, watching her take him over and over.

“Fuck,” he groaned.

She was different now. Last weekend, at Taylor’s retreat, she had been all sensual grace—slow and smooth, like the rhythm of the river below them.

Now?

She was feral. Pure sexual energy.

She bobbed on his cock, fast and deep, her head moving in smooth strokes. The sound of it—wet, messy, relentless—filled the quiet condo.

Spit pooled at the base of his cock, coating her fingers as she stroked him in rhythm. Her cheeks hollowed. Her throat worked. Her lipstick smeared, her breath ragged.

His hips began to move—small, involuntary thrusts that met her rhythm. Forward. Back. Forward again. She didn’t pull away. She wanted it.

McKenna was devouring him.

And he was starting to lose control.

McKenna pulled back, lips slick, a thin strand of saliva connecting her mouth to his tip. She giggled, a wicked sparkle in her green eyes, and reached into her purse.

“Proof of life for Sadie,” she said with a playful grin.

She grabbed her phone, opened the camera, and with one fluid motion took his cock back into her mouth—deep, slow, sultry. She looked up at the lens, lips stretched around him, eyes locked with it like she was performing. Then click—she snapped the selfie.

She popped him out of her mouth with a wet sound, thumbed out a quick message, and sent the pic. Her fingers flew across the screen.

“Keeping Ryan company 🥰💋”

McKenna tossed the phone onto the coffee table and laughed.

A few seconds later, it dinged. She tapped it open, then read aloud:

“That’s my girl. You look like an absolute goddess with that dick in your mouth. Make him cum for me. Make him see stars. 😈❤️”

McKenna smiled, biting her lip. She looked up at Ryan.

“She wants a good show,” she said, voice low and hot.

Then she slid him back into her mouth—deeper, slower, even more intent than before. Then pulled off again.

McKenna smiled slowly, licking her lips.

“God,” she said softly. “I’ve missed this.”

McKenna leaned back on the couch, tossing one leg casually over the backrest, the red fabric of her dress a crumpled memory at her feet. She was completely exposed now—confident, commanding, and glowing under the soft golden light of the room. Her skin had that post-sun kiss, and her toned figure was pure elegance and desire—smooth legs, soft curves, bright red polish matching her parted lips and the manicured fingers now circling slow, lazy loops across her clit.

She looked down her body at Ryan, eyes half-lidded with mischief and heat. “You’ve just been standing there,” she said, her voice a low, smoky tease. “Are you going to make me beg?”

She cupped one perfect breast, her fingers squeezing it with delicious tension, her thumb brushing the nipple. Her hips arched forward slightly.

“Get down here. I want that tongue before I let you fuck me,” she purred.

Ryan’s breath caught as he dropped to his knees in front of her, the couch pressing against his chest as he leaned in. Their eyes locked. Her lips curved into a sinful little smile.

As he moved between her thighs, she added with a whisper, “You remember how good I tasted last weekend?” Her voice was a slow drip of honey over fire. “Show me you haven’t forgotten.”

Their chemistry sparked instantly as he answered with action, sinking lower between her thighs. His hands slid under her legs, gripping the backs of her toned thighs as he pulled her toward the edge of the couch. Her pussy glistened in the low light—inviting, dripping, flushed with heat.

He kissed the inside of one thigh, then the other, inhaling her scent, lingering in that space just before his mouth met her. She gasped softly at the first contact of his tongue against her clit, her hips giving a startled jolt, a tremble rolling through her core.

“God, yes,” she whispered, voice barely audible.

He circled her clit again. And again. Then flattened his tongue and licked her slowly from bottom to top, savoring the taste of her. She was sweet and wet and hot against his mouth. He flicked faster now, faster and firmer, locking his lips around her clit and sucking gently. Her fingers threaded through his hair, guiding him exactly where she wanted him.

When he slid one finger into her pussy, she moaned loud and raw.

“Mmmm, fuck,” she gasped. “Right there, baby…”

He curled his finger upward, rubbing that perfect spot just inside that made her body seize in pleasure. Then added a second finger, easing it in, filling her. She clenched around him, already close. He moved with rhythm, licking and stroking her in sync—wet, steady, passionate.

“Jesus—oh god, I’m gonna—” she stammered, then her whole body tensed.

The orgasm crashed into her hard. Her legs locked around his head, and she screamed as it overtook her.

“FUCK! Ryan, yes—fuck, that’s it, that’s it—”

She rocked her hips into his face, riding the waves, her thighs trembling, her breath ragged and broken. He didn’t stop. He licked her through it, tasting every drop, feeling her come undone in his mouth.

When she finally softened, breathless and wild-eyed, he kissed his way up her stomach, her chest, her neck. She reached for him, grabbing him by the face and pulling him into a kiss that was deep and hot and filled with gratitude. Her tongue met his, tasting herself on him, moaning into his mouth.

She wrapped her legs around his waist, her body still buzzing with the high.

“You’re fucking dangerous,” she whispered.

He just smiled.

“Only for you tonight,” he said.

“Fuck me. Hard,” she said into his mouth. “I want to feel it tomorrow.”

She guided him with one hand, fingers wrapped firmly around the base of his cock, slick from her own arousal. Her other hand clutched at his shoulder, nails digging in just enough to leave a trace. The head of his cock pressed against her entrance, and she held her breath.

He eased forward, slow and steady. The tip parted her folds and slid inside her inch by inch. Her pussy stretched to take him, wet and ready, clenching down around him as he sank deeper.

Her head fell back against the couch, red hair spilling, lips parted in a moan.

“God, yes,” she gasped, her voice shaking. “Just like that. Don’t stop.”

He filled her completely, their hips finally meeting, skin to skin. Her thighs tightened around his waist, and she rocked up into him, needing more already.

The rhythm built—slow, purposeful, every thrust pushing her open again, making her feel all of him. The sound of their bodies connecting, wet and hot, echoed through the room.

He leaned over her, one hand cupping her breast, thumb brushing over her nipple. She arched into him, breathing harder, grinding against him.

Their words started flowing—low and raw, filled with heat and memory. Everything that had been simmering since the retreat poured out here in movement and touch and sound.

“God, you feel so fucking good,” he muttered against her neck.

“You too,” she whispered back, breathless. “Don’t hold back. I want it.”

Ryan shifted his weight and hooked her legs up over his shoulders, gripping the backs of her thighs to anchor himself. The change in angle made her gasp—he was deeper now, thick and pulsing inside her, hitting just the right spot with every thrust.

“Oh fuck—Ryan,” McKenna moaned, her voice catching as her back arched. “Right there. Don’t you dare stop.”

He drove into her, hard and rhythmic, each thrust slapping against her ass with a wet clap that echoed through the quiet condo. His abs flexed with the effort, sweat forming at the base of his neck, his jaw clenched in concentration and need.

“You’re so tight,” he grunted. “You were made for this. For me.”

She whimpered, breath stuttering as the intensity built. “Yes. Fuck, yes. Just like that—deeper—fuck me, Ryan.”

Her hands gripped the couch cushion, her knuckles white, breasts bouncing with every movement. Her pussy clenched around him with each impact, her whole body on fire, chasing the next wave.

He leaned forward slightly, folding her in more, thrusting faster now, harder. Their bodies smacked together with slick, perfect rhythm.

“You’re gonna come for me again, aren’t you?” he growled, breath hot against her ankle.

She nodded frantically, head rolling side to side. “Yes—yes—fuck, I’m so close—don’t stop, don’t fucking stop.”

Ryan’s grip tightened, his rhythm relentless, every inch of her shaking beneath him as she unraveled again.

Her whole body trembled as the orgasm tore through her, raw and overwhelming. Her pussy clenched down on him, tight and pulsing, squeezing every inch of his cock with rhythmic waves.

“Fuck, you feel that?” she gasped, her voice shaking.

“I feel every inch of you,” he growled, eyes locked on hers. “You’re incredible when you cum.”

She let out a breathless, satisfied laugh, her skin glowing with sweat and lust. “You’re not done, are you?”

Ryan pulled out slowly, savoring the wet heat of her, his cock glistening in the soft light. “Not even close.”

McKenna sat up, still flushed, and took his hand. Without a word, she led him down the hall, both of them slick and breathless. The bedroom was cool, the dim lighting casting a soft glow over everything.

She climbed onto the bed on all fours, the sheets rumpled beneath her. Her ass arched high, round and perfect, hips angled with practiced ease. Her smooth, wet pussy glistened between toned thighs. Her back curved, that long red hair cascading over one shoulder.

She looked back at him over her shoulder, her green eyes dark with desire. “I need more. Give it to me.”

Ryan moved in without hesitation, his hands gripping her hips roughly. His fingers dug into her soft skin, firm and commanding. He pulled her back into him and gave her ass a hard slap—his palm connecting with a loud crack. A red handprint bloomed instantly on her cheek.

McKenna moaned, her voice thick with pleasure. “Fuck yes—just like that. Do it again.”

He growled low, gave her another hard spank, then lined himself up. His cock slid along her slick lips once, twice—then he thrust deep and fast into her, bottoming out on the first stroke.

Her entire body jerked forward from the impact.

“God, yes!” she cried, grabbing the sheets, breath catching. “That’s exactly what I needed.”

Ryan gripped her hips tighter, his fingertips digging into her skin as he began to thrust—deep, relentless, fast. The room filled with the sound of their bodies slamming together, skin on skin, wet and rhythmic. Her ass bounced with every impact, his cock disappearing into her again and again.

“Fuck, Ryan—don’t stop,” McKenna moaned, her voice high and ragged. “God, your cock feels so fucking good inside me.”

He pounded harder, his abs tight, sweat sliding down his chest. He watched her take every thrust, her pussy gripping him tight, wetter with every stroke. She was loud now—uninhibited, lost in the sheer physical pleasure of it.

“You want it like this?” he growled, leaning forward, his chest against her back, one hand wrapped around her throat as he slammed into her.

“Yes!” she cried, her eyes fluttering closed, mouth open. “Harder—fuck me harder!”

He gave her exactly that. His hips snapped against her ass with brutal precision, the bed rocking beneath them. She pushed back into him, meeting every thrust, greedy for more.

“Your pussy’s so fucking tight,” Ryan groaned. “You were made for this cock, weren’t you?”

McKenna whimpered in response, her fingers clawing at the sheets. “Yes—fuck, yes—I want all of it. Fill me. Use me.”

The pressure was building again in both of them. Her pussy was fluttering around him, sucking him in deeper. Every nerve in her body felt lit up, overwhelmed and desperate.

“Come for me again,” he ordered, voice rough in her ear. “Let me feel you fall apart.”

McKenna cried out, trembling beneath him as her orgasm hit—hard, sudden, electric. Her whole body shuddered, pussy spasming around him in powerful waves.

“Oh fuck—yes—yes, I’m cumming!” she screamed.

Ryan was right behind her, every muscle in his body tensed, his rhythm faltering as her orgasm gripped him—tight, wet, pulsing around his cock. It almost pulled him under.

“Fuck—Jesus,” he growled, teeth clenched. He slammed into her one last time, deep, then suddenly pulled out with a sharp inhale, his cock slick and twitching in the cool air. His whole body shivered as he edged himself back from the brink, standing there, throbbing, trying to catch his breath.

His chest rose and fell with effort, heavy with the need to release. He wrapped a hand around the base of his cock, squeezed tight, and breathed through it—barely holding on.

McKenna looked back over her shoulder, her cheeks flushed, her mouth open in a lust-drunk smile.

“Fuck,” she whispered, still panting. “Did I almost break you?”

“You have no idea,” Ryan said, his voice hoarse. “I was about to lose it all over your perfect ass.”

She moaned, backing her ass up toward him like she wanted to tempt fate again. Her pussy was still glistening, dripping from her orgasm, lips puffy and parted.

“Why’d you stop?” she teased, eyes gleaming. “You were about to explode inside me. I could feel it.”

“I know,” he said, voice dark, low. “I wanted to see what you’d do if I didn’t.”

McKenna licked her lips, then reached back between her legs, slipping two fingers inside her soaked pussy, pulling them out and showing them to him—shining with slick.

“I’d beg,” she said, slowly sucking her fingers into her mouth, never breaking eye contact. “Or maybe take control and ride you until you couldn’t hold back.”

Ryan stepped forward again, still holding himself just barely in check, his cock aching with pressure.

“Yeah?” he said. “Then maybe you should show me.”

McKenna didn’t hesitate. With a mischievous grin, she grabbed Ryan’s wrists and pushed him back onto the bed, her eyes blazing with hunger. His heart slammed in his chest as she straddled him, her hands wrapping around his throbbing cock, hot and pulsing.

“Ready for me?” she challenged, leaning down to press her mouth against his in a searing kiss.

Without waiting for an answer, she slammed down hard onto him, taking him deep inside her. Ryan groaned, caught off guard by the force, his hands gripping the sheets.

“Fuck, McKenna,” he gasped. “You’re so goddamn good.”

She rocked her hips fiercely, riding him hard—each slam of her perfect, fit ass against his pelvis sending shivers through them both.

Ryan’s hands flew to her hips, then around to her ass, spanking her sharply. The loud slap echoed in the room. She shuddered but didn’t slow down.

“Fuck yeah,” Ryan growled, grabbing her ass hard, holding her close. “You like that, don’t you? Getting spanked while you ride me like a wild animal.”

Her lips found his again—kissing deep and rough, tongues tangling. She whispered against his mouth, breath hot and ragged.

“I want your cum so bad. Fill me up, Ryan. Show me what you’ve got.”

He tightened his grip on her hips, thrusting up to meet her every move, the rhythm fierce and unrelenting.

“Goddamn, you’re mine tonight,” he said between clenched teeth. “Gonna make you scream for me.”

She cried out, head thrown back, body moving perfectly with his, lost in the savage heat of it all.

Ryan’s body tensed, breath hitching as the first surge hit him—a white-hot wave of pleasure crashing from deep inside. His hips jerked uncontrollably, thrusts growing sloppy with the intensity. Heat flooded every nerve ending, spreading out in relentless pulses that shook him to the core.

McKenna’s moan was low, guttural, a perfect match to his release. Her hands gripped his chest as she rode him harder, her slick, tight heat clenching around his cock with every spasm. The way she moved—slow, deliberate, wild—drove him further over the edge.

“Fuck, you feel so fucking good,” Ryan groaned, voice rough and ragged. “I’m gonna—I'm gonna lose it, baby.”

“Cum for me,” McKenna whispered, breath hot against his ear, lips brushing his skin. “Fill me up with all that thick, hot mess. Don’t stop, I want every drop.”

Wave after wave crashed through him, each one more powerful than the last. His muscles clenched and shuddered, every pulse forcing deep, hot spurts of cum to flood into her slick, trembling heat. The thick warmth filled her utterly, flowing deep inside where only he could reach, anchoring them together in an intimate, messy connection.

Sweat slicked their bodies as McKenna matched every tremor with a slow, rhythmic grind of her hips, molding herself around him like she was made to take every drop. The fullness stretched her just enough to make her gasp, her pussy fluttering tightly around his throbbing length, swallowing him whole with hungry, greedy contractions.

His breath hitched as he felt her soak up every pulse, her slickness mingling with his warmth, sealing them in a shared, electric moment of surrender and pleasure. The hot, wet heat of his release inside her was undeniable—proof of their connection, raw and unfiltered.

McKenna lay heavy on top of him, their bodies still trembling in the wake of his powerful orgasm. His cock throbbed deep inside her, pulsing with aftershocks that sent ripples of pleasure through them both. Their lips met in a fierce, passionate kiss—tongues swirling, breaths mingling, a shared heat that refused to cool.

“You know,” she murmured between kisses, a playful glint in her emerald eyes, “while Sadie’s out of town, we should probably take extra good care of each other.”

Ryan chuckled, his hands resting possessively on her hips. “Oh, I’m counting on it. No slacking off.”

She smiled against his mouth, then began to slide off him slowly, her body curved in perfect surrender. As she moved, his cock slipped free from her velvet warmth, releasing a hot, thick wave of cum that spilled out of her like molten honey. It traced a slick path down her glistening lips, pooled at the curve of her thighs, and dripped in slow, sticky beads onto his chest and stomach beneath her.

The soft, wet sound of it falling between them echoed in the quiet room—a sensual reminder of the intensity they’d just shared.

McKenna looked down at the mess with a wicked grin. “Guess you left your mark,” she teased, rubbing her fingers through a stray drop on her inner thigh, then bringing them to her lips, tasting it with a slow, deliberate lick.

McKenna slipped out of the room, giggling and still a glorious mess. Moments later, she returned with her phone in hand. With a mischievous smile, she snapped a selfie of them lying tangled naked together—skin slick and shining, her body glistening with his cum, drops trailing down onto his chest.

She tapped out a quick message to Sadie: “Definitely taking good care of Ryan. Wish you were here.”

Almost instantly, her phone chimed back.

Sadie’s reply: “Looks like you’re doing an amazing job. Can’t wait to hear every detail.”

McKenna grinned, her eyes sparkling with promise.