Page 137 of Distress Signal

I didn’t speak until I’d pulled us deep enough into the shadows that the dim glow cast by the lone exterior light couldn’t reach us.

“I need you.”

Any reply she would’ve made was cut off when my mouth crashed to hers. Thankfully, she met me fervently, our tongues gliding messily together, teeth clacking as we nipped at each other’s lips.

“Hard and fast,” she begged when I pulled away for a moment, knowing where we were headed.

My hand slid down her side until it connected with bare thigh, then slipped under the hem of her dress, higher until I collided with her pussy—herbarepussy.

“No panties? I thought you were supposed to be a southern belle?”

“For everyone else maybe,” she said, the last word rising in pitch as my fingers parted her slit. “But not for you.”

“That’s right, baby,” I murmured. “You’re my little slut, right?”

“Yes,” she gasped. “Now fuck me.”

She was already wet, her desire slicking the insides of her thighs and coating my hand.

“Fucking soaked,” I mused, then licked my fingers clean. Reagan reached for me, yanking down my zipper and unbuttoning my jeans, shoving them and my boxer briefs down enough to free my cock.

Gripping my length, I speared the tip through her cunt thenspread her arousal down the shaft. I notched my head at her entrance. Before I could even ask the question, Reagan was nodding vehemently, hands finding my hips and urging me forward.

I surged into her, a strangled moaning leaving me as I buried myself in her wet heat. Reagan’s head fell back against the brick exterior of the building, sighing. Her casted arm hung awkwardly between us, so I lifted it to my shoulder, and despite their limited movement, her fingers found their way into my hair—anchoring herself.

Grateful she was as tall as she was, I hooked her leg higher on my hip, providing the perfect angle to drive even deeper.

My strokes were slow, savoring. I’d never tired of being connected to her like this.

“You’re fucking perfect, belle,” I muttered, tipping my forehead against hers. “Like your pussy was molded specifically to fit my cock. Fuck, I love you.”

“I love you,” she gasped. “But Finn…hard and fast.”

Remembering her earlier request, when I pulled out next, I shot my hips forward, slamming back into her.

“Yes,” she hissed. “Just like that, baby.Please.”

“Goddamn, I love it when you beg.”

I set a relentless pace. Where Reagan was concerned, it took little more than a single look to get me going, and this was no different. After a few minutes, that telltale pressure coiled at the base of my spine. Reagan’s inner walls squeezed around me tightly, telling me she was close too.

Though we were pressed tightly enough together that not even a millimeter of space could be found, I wedged my hand between us and found her clit.

That little bit of pressure was all it took.

Right as the floodgates on our respective orgasms opened, so did the sky, the storm that had been darkening the clouds all day finally breaking free.

We were doused in seconds, but we barely noticed.

Reagan came with a cry, drowned by the boom of thunder, pulsing around me, triggering my own release.

“That’s it, baby,” I gasped as I unloaded into her. “Milk my cock.”

When we stilled and came down from the high, I pulled myself free, tucked my dick back into my pants, and stepped away to readjust my clothes, difficult given the wet denim of my jeans had no give.

Reagan’s hair hung in heavy, damp strands across her shoulders and down her back. The pale blue and white of her dress was now damn near transparent and clinging to every dip and hollow of her body. In this state, her curves were positively sinful, and her nipples, tightened to peaks and pressing distractingly against the fabric, begged for my mouth. If I didn’t know my family would likely be wondering what happened to us, I’d take her again.

Reagan merely smoothed her palms down the skirt of her dress and watched me with a smirk.