I bite out a string of curse words. Her pussy isn’t just wetter than it was in the shower; it’s also tighter. “You feel so fucking good.”
“Then stop fighting for control and enjoy the ride.”
Her words aren’t snarky—far from it. They’re too nurturing to display anything but sincerity. She’s not being dominant because I’m failing to give her what she needs. She’s taking charge so I can relinquish it. She’s identified that I’m struggling and showing she’s strong enough to take the reins when needed. If that doesn’t prove her ability to destroy me, nothing will.
My fingers dig into Regan’s hips with violence when I adjust her position. I’m not fighting to be top dog. I want to show her what her support means to me. She wants us even—I’m assuring we are.
Regan’s scream of frustration shifts to a moan of pleasure when my cartwheel-like maneuver has her swollen-with-need pussy landing on my mouth. I crank my neck forward, smashing my lips against the succulence responsible for the delicious scent lingering in the air.
“Oh. . . you shouldn’t. . . I can’t. . . Fuck. . .” The rest of Regan’s reply is a garble.
Her nails dig into my thighs as her head flops forward. She’s at my mercy, her body incapable of denying the sensation roaring through it. She quivers and shakes as the most seductive fucking taste I’ve ever sampled smears my tongue. Her orgasm is quick to arrive but less eager to leave. It takes several long, perfectly addictive minutes before her shaking subsides. And even then, she’s only at half-strength.
While Regan works through the exhaustion screaming through her body, I suckle her clit into my mouth, easing its frantic throbs. My speed is slow and patient, a teasing pace full of admiration and mutual respect.
After regaining control of her limbs, Regan returns my devotion with the same agile moves. Her sweaty palm glides down my erect cock before her pouty lips nestle my weeping crown. We suck, lick, and fondle each other for the next several minutes, our exchange only ramping up when the tension in my sack grows too great to ignore.
In a nimble roll, I enter Regan from behind. As we work together to find a rhythm fast enough to be satisfying but slow to starve off my desire to come, I slide my fingertip over the soaked opening of her pussy. With our sideways position letting my chin rest on her nape, she feels the curve of my lips when the strum of her clit causes her hips to jerk forward.
“You better not be laughing at me, Mister Fancy Pants.” Her use of my favorite nickname weakens the sneer of her words, but it doesn’t completely erase it.
“I’m not laughing. I’m smiling. Those are two entirely different things.” After circling my thumb over her clit three times, I add on, “ I love the way your body responds to my touch. It’s more vocal of your needs than you are.”
“That’s because the only needs I have are for you to fuck me well enough that I come. . .again.”
I burrow my head into her neck. I’m not hiding my face in shame but concealing my smile from the dip of her tone when she said “again.” Anyone would swear she’s never had back-to-back orgasms before. I know that isn’t true. Our romp in the field had her firing back-to-back shots. It was beautiful, too perfect to have only happened once.
Unless. . .
“Oh, baby, if I had known, I would have aimed for more than two.”
Regan cranks her neck back to peer at me. My chest swells when I see the confirmation I am after in her eyes. I may not have been the first man she slept with, but I was the first to award her multiple orgasms. And you can be assured I’ll be the last.
“Step off the soapbox, Alex. You can’t bang your chest until you’ve delivered the goods.”
Her sassy words muffle into the thick carpet pile when I adjust her position once more. I heard the challenge in her voice, saw it flare through her eyes. Finding the right balance has always been my biggest issue with Regan, but that never enters the equation when we’re fucking. Right here, in this environment, logic defies. We’re not dueling; we’re forging peace. I’ve struggled to find my place in the world for years, but that will never be the case when I’m balls deep inside her. I’m the hunter claiming his prize. The first place winner stepping up to the podium to collect his medal. I’m her motherfucking other half.
I stop banging my chest without fists so I can raise Regan’s glorious ass high into the air. She purrs a throaty garble when I slam my cock back inside her. It vibrates all the way up my shaft when my hand bounces across the pasty white globes bobbing up and down in front of my face.
As a fiery jolt scampers across the taut skin of her ass, Regan calls out in a grunt, her eyes rocketing to mine. “Again.” Her voice is unlike anything I’ve ever heard. “Spank me again.”
A lifetime of injustice is corrected when I answer her request without a single qualm. She shouts my name as her pussy bleeds my cock of precum, its frantic squeezes begging for me to join her on the dangerous ride that borders the brink of insanity. If I weren’t still seeking a way to relocate my ego, I’d happily jump on board, but right now nothing but discovering how many ways Regan can scream my name is on my mind.
That. . . and striving to unearth why the angry red handprint on Regan’s glowingly white ass has my attacker’s identity smacking into me at this very instant.
8
Iwait for the shower to switch on in the hotel bathroom before snagging Regan’s cell phone from the side table and dialing a frequently called number. An operator at FBI headquarters requests my name and badge number two rings later.
“Alex Rogers, ID 3415673, seeking information on a Brandon James, technician at—”
“Patching you through to his cell now.”
“Or that’ll work too,” I mumble to myself, annoyed.
I’m not bothered by the operator’s quick thinking. I’m frustrated as hell that I have to deal with this now. Tonight has been the best night of my life. The past ten hours with Regan have been phenomenal. We fucked. We laughed. We ate room service while sitting on the floor with our legs intertwined before she fell asleep in my arms for the most peaceful four hours of my life.
And I did it all without letting on to her that she is responsible for my assault last night. She didn’t clock me over the head before stealing my wallet, badge and gun. She was just her—a woman so perfect men can’t understand why they can’t have her.
