REGANThe night was at its end, she was supposed to have left the fundraising event with her driver, alone; but the gentle slope between her neck and shoulder on both sides are occupied by busy tongues leaving trails from their sloppy caresses. She was certain her father was still tied up making nice with the other fortune holders and her mother was hanging ever so elegantly from his arm. Ronan disappeared before the night even began, only to dip back in and out again to show his face to whoever their father pointed him to. Regan however was only a pretty face to be flaunted around to the highest bidder, should any of the eligible pockets take a liking to her. She was able to slip away without much of anyone blinking an eye.

After about four or five too many drinks, she pulled a barhop to an empty corridor and whispered promises into his ear that were too sweet for him to ignore. And, just as her luck would have it, a familiar face catches her attention as she's making her escape plan. He doesn't linger on her too long, he only tracks her line of strides and she can notice him tense just slightly. A smirk plasters her face as she traipses over to him, amusement rises on her face as she watches him twist and slowly turn as if he's uncomfortable with how close she's forced the two of them to be now. And uncomfortable he should be—she is after all the sister of his own beloved best friend, who's made it very clear that Regan is off limits in every way imaginable. The young harlot sees this as a challenge, and raises her brother—in the form of a one not so loyal best friend and the sister that is strictly off limits.

It was like pulling teeth from the unwilling, but Regan has long since learned how to bat her pretty eyelashes and twirl her fire red curls in her delicate but deadly fingers. She knows that her brother's friends are not quite men, they are either depraved or too eager, and she makes herself too tempting to be irresistible—nevermind the subtle drop of a tiny, white little pill that dissolves In his drink when he finally caves and loses himself in her mismatched gaze. Her eyes only leave his when she's guiding him by the hand to meet the barhop in her car, scanning the crowd as she hopes to find her own gaze somewhere burning back into her with the fury she knows she's able to provoke. Ronan never approves of her choices, always accuses her of being reckless and fucking up their reputation. When she doesn't find his gold and cerulean judgmental gaze, she gives a short sigh but hurries the three of them into her car, knowing she may still have a chance should she make it back to the estate at the right time.

She makes her driver take his time, looping through the city and stopping at various shops she hassles owners to open at the Ungodly midnight hour, all before arriving home finally. She is able to stifle the giggles and chuckles that come from her and her little entourage, bags hanging from their hands while she's wrapped around her brother's friend's arm as they make their way through the back side of the property. She doesn't even bother to remember the other man's face, he's just a little bonus to her scheme and she certainly doesn't remember what time it was when they left the fundraiser. It's dark though, save for a few subtle lights left on to illuminate outside pathways and the corridors In the mansion she's now quietly stumbling through. She pulled her boys in through the kitchens, then through the dining hall and up a grand staircase. She leads, with her two boy toys trailing behind her as they fight for their moment to place rough kisses along her neck. One of them stumbles upwards and catches her, causing her to trip before she just Barely catches herself. She can't help but to snort, a giggle caught in her mouth by her own hand and another from the boy she thinks is named Grayson, but she finds it easiest to call him Ronan's Best Friend. The three of them continue to stumble quietly onto the next story as they glance around, Regan still pulling them, Only this time she's headed in the direction of her bedroom. She fights with the heels on her feet, Grayson taking them only to shove them onto the barhop she nearly forgot was there again already. He tosses them to the floor, both of their hands chase after the straps of her black, satin dress, and Regan pulls them both in as she finally reaches the door to her bedroom. She places her back to the wall while small fingers tangle in Grayson and the barhop's hair; she grips a handful of their hair and pulls them in to her, guiding their mouths to either side of her neck. The hall is dimly lit, making it harder to see down the halls on either side of her. Soon enough, she loses her concentration on the unfortunately empty halls and reaches for the handle to her bedroom door. Grayson becomes greedy in a moments notice, pulling her from the door and closer to him before she can even think about setting foot into her bedroom.

RONANHe sits on her bed waiting for her. Or them, rather. Per usual, Regan has put on a show for him, plucking at the strings of his patience until they snap in a spectacular display. At the fundraiser, Ronan did what he did best - helped his father slick the palms of those who continued to place money back in their hands. Fair exchange was no robbery. Their entire legacy was built on the exploitation of others. There was little he or his father wouldn’t do, when it came to furthering their empire. And if he got his dick sucked at the same time time? Even better. Ronan had never had much trouble when it come to getting a woman in bed or on her knees. Money and good lucks, combined with some charm, made it all the easier. Each and every one of them hoped to tie him down, to secure him as a husband that would take care of them for life. But Ronan wasn’t so easily caught.

Today’s dog and pony show was one of the many fundraisers his family hosted. His attendance was required, as was his sisters. But unlike his sister, Ronan had actual work to do. Not to say he wasn’t also playing at the same time. He disappeared a couple of times, never on his own though. Always with his date on his arm. When he wasn’t bending her over his desk, he was making nice with associates and keeping tabs on his sister. Whenever she looked his way, he could practically feel her eyes on him, waiting for his attention, waiting for whatever she was doing to spark his temper. His dear sister was an unrelenting tease, always mocking him for what he couldn’t do, in the eye of public.

When boredom set in, Regan was off, finding the first vulnerable man she could. Today it was a bellhop. Grayson offered to go handle it. His best friend. Or so he thought. Ronan always knew that his sister had a knack for getting her way, whatever it was. If Regan wanted it, she got it. So when he looked up, finding her sneaking out with none other than Grayson and the bellhop, he wasn’t wholly surprised. What surprised him was the complete lack of loyalty his best friend had. His sister spreading her legs for anything that moved, simply to get a rise out of him, was not something new. And he knew well enough to know she wasn’t taking them straight home.

Regan had her games and the two men fondling her were mere pawns in her play. All it meant was he had time, time to wrap up his business here, time to send his date home. There wasn’t a need for him to rush home, but he still gripped the steering wheel of his black sports car with white knuckles. Alone, he seethed.

Pulling up to their home, he threw the car in park, leaving the keys in it for someone else to park. Slamming the door shut behind, he climbed the stairs and headed straight for Regans room. With a sliver more self control, he opened the door to the empty room and with a quiet click, closed it behind him. In here, everything smelled distinctly of Regan - he could still smell the perfume she’d put on for today. Sitting on the edge of her bed, he faces her door and from there, he waits. In the silence of the house, he knows the moment she’s home, her drunken laughter filling the halls and growing louder the closer she got. Listening, he could hear her back hit the wall, the soft moans and heavy breathing from outside the door and it all made his teeth grind together. His jaw ticked. One of them fiddled with the doorknob but still the door didn’t swing open. Fisting her comforter, like it was enough to hold him in place, Ronan waited, his temper rising exponentially with each passing moment.

REGANShe blames it all on her lack of attention, really; the outbursts, the trouble, the provoking. Her father seeps every last drop of his attention into Ronan, building him up to take over some day and Regan is just am after thought, someone he gives a short smile to on his way to his office after a long day. Her mother reassures her, comforts her, offers a warm hug whenever she needs it. But that is never enough, she always wants more—and what she wants, she gets.

Tonight, she uses her beautiful pawns under the guise of a hook up, but knows she won't offer them more than the touches they've earned on her skin that isn't covered by the expensive satin that clings delicately so to her curves. Grayson is who she ensnares in her trap more tightly, so much so that her self awareness is slipping with every kiss that trails her neck, and every finger that glides down her spine. When his lips finally find hers, she let's him consume her in rough, sloppy, kisses. The other man is somewhere at her side, following the two of them in while his face occupies anywhere that Grayson isn't. She can feel the inevitable greed begin to set in between the two of them, their palms getting rougher, grips getting tighter and the muscles beneath their slowly stripping suits bulging with more tension. She let's them guide her into the room, her back facing her bed while they push her in it's direction. When Grayson frees her mouth for a brief moment, she gives a breathy, quiet laugh as her eyes flutter. In her brief moment of reveling in the sliver of euphoria she could feel building, she hardly notices both of her catches stop dead in their tracks, their gazes no longer on her and she scowls at them. “Fucking disrespectful—” she grumbles, lifting both hands to force the men before her to look at her, but she feels their jaws clench tight and refuse to move to look at her.

A shiver runs down her spine as her ears begin to ring slightly, all prompted by the subtle hint of a familiar musk that creeps up from behind her. His cologne is nearly as intoxicating as the booze she's poured into her veins, but in this moment it is suffocating. Her breathing slows finally, but the fire that's lit in her core is far from satiated, it is unrelenting and she realizes any chance of it being extinguished was nonexistent in this very moment.

A brow quirks as she lifts a finger to swipe away the dampened lipstick from her lips before she slowly turns around. She runs her hands down the front of her dress, flattening out the ridges as she falls back slowly to rest against the front of Grayson. Her eyes trail up from the floor, finding his perfectly placed footing first before jumping to the fists she sees clenched around her comforter. The gold and cerulean gaze she was so desperate to find at the party finally meets hers, but he isn't looking at her, he's looking behind her at the tense rock of a best friend that's refusing to even lay a finger on her now. She gives a soft roll of her eyes. “Turns out, loyalty is easily diluted with the help of a little, tiny pill.” the smirk on her face is sturdy, never faltering as she scales the size of the pill she used with her index finger and thumb.

RONANWhen the bedroom finally swings open, banging clumsily against the wall, it’s all he can do to keep it together. Regans dress is pushed up and down, half on and half off, wrinkled with her pawns affections. Both man lavish her with attention, which she eats up like a glutton. Mismatched eyes flash at his twin, her eyes closed and head tipped back in ecstasy. Her chest rises and falls quickly, her breath a steady pant as lets herself be worshiped. Or what she thinks is worship. Ronan still doesn’t rise from his place at the foot of her bed.

The trio is living in a fantasy world. Until Grayson notices him. His best friends eyes widen, shock and horror colliding to make a fearful cocktail. The bellhop is equally shocked, having the decency to look a bit sheepish at being caught with his hand in the proverbial cookie jar. Regan, on the other hand, is oblivious, noticing only when their attention isn’t on her. Her temper rises and even though he’s behind her, Ronan knows her cheeks turn an even darker shade of pink when she’s mad.

Then, finally, she turns.

Smoothing out her dress, she looks like the cat that caught the canary. And isn’t the least bit remorseful about it. Leaning back, she supports herself against Grayson, who is very pointedly no longer touching her. Turns out, loyalty is easily diluted with the help of a little, tiny pill. Complete with a demo on just how big the pill was. Some might have forgiven their friend in the moment. But not Ronan. Its inexcusable.

Gold and cerulean eyes turn to the bellhop. “Go.” A threat is on the tip of his tongue, but the mans eyes widen and he doesn’t need the extra encouragement. He’s gone as fast as his legs can carry him. Which leaves Grayson. Regan was hardly a credible witness, partly because she was drunk and partly because Ronan knew that she would never turn on him. And Grayson knew it. Putting his hands up in front of him, an act of surrender, Grayson tries to backpedal. ”She drugged me man.” He even takes a step away from Regan. But Ronan is on him. With a lethal grace, Ronan is on his feet, stepping right up to his friend, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt. ”It won’t happen again!” Grayson shrinks back, but Ronan is already pulling back his fist, aiming so it lands square on his best friends jaw.

Pain erupts across his knuckles, spreading up his hand as the impact traveled to his shoulder. Grayson grunts but doesn’t resist. “Get out. Before I fucking kill you.” Ronan snarls. At least his friend doesn’t need to be told twice.

Alone, he slowly turned towards his sister. Her red hair is tousled from so many fingers tangling in it. Her matching stare is unrepentant. “Anything to say for yourself?” It was her last chance to repent, though he knew she’d let it sail right by her, and that’s what he was counting on. His palms itched with the sudden desire to punish her. This time she went too far, brazenly crossed the line and now it was time for her to pay the consequences.

REGANHer own eyes light up with amusement as she watches Ronan take in the sight before him, she loves to watch him boil over, the satisfaction in the very moment he erupts. But she knows him too well, knows she won't get what she wants—atleast, not exactly how she imagines it all in her. Where she sees Ronan flying off the wall and nearly burying the stranger into the marble of her bedroom floor, he dismissed him. Let him go with a warning glare and nothing more. She quietly scoffs in disbelief, or is it disappointment? Before she can decide, she's being swiftly tossed aside as Ronan invades their space, his familiar scent and the rush of her being moved out of the way sends the blood in her veins straight to her head in a near dizzying moment that's brought about by it all, plus the booze still potent only heightens the sensation.

Grayson is still resolute in the idea that he's innocent here. She didn't force him to come with her, maybe she pushed him just a tad to make a decision, but she isn't to blame here. "It won't happen again!" he reassures Ronan, but Regan knows it's pointless in this moment. Her eyes find the back of her head once more as she grows bored, dismissing herself and finds her bed. She catches herself in a trip as she watches Ronan's fist reel back, aiming for contact with Grayson's face. She's seen this before, when she was younger. A different boy, a different Ronan. Except this time, Grayson is gifted the opportunity to run, and stay away until the coast is clear.

She remembers Ronan burying his fist into another boy she was caught playing around with, sneaking him around the grounds and into pool. It was another late night, and Ronan caught the two of them by the pool. Both of them were a little drunk, and had no idea what they were actually doing most of the time, but they were figuring it out together. From what Regan remembers, Ronan told her she was too drunk, and the boy that was with her was pushing things too far. If he hadn't stepped in, "who knows what he would have tried doing to her" is what she was told the morning after waking in her bed that she didn't remember making it to. She does, however, remember seeing Ronan come out of no where and bury his fists into the boy's face until he was too sore to throw any more hits, and supposedly the boy was taken to the hospital- but he seemed to have disappeared from the town, hell even the earth after that. As if he didn't even exist.

She watches Ronan as she seats herself on the silk sheets of her bed, his arms drawn back and extended and after that, Grayson is excused, making a quick exit. She feels her breath hitch in her throat, but clears it quietly as Ronan turns to her. When his eyes fall on her, she feels unease wash over her, her fingers beginning to fidget and twirl the sheets beneath them. Giving a sigh, she pulls her hands back slightly to rest her weight back on her elbows, extending her legs in front of her and crossing them together. Her head tilts to the side, red curls falling to the side of her and cascading over her shoulders, just barely reaching the sheets. "Hmmm,” she hummed, a feigned look of contemplation is smothered across her face. her drunken, lidded gaze travels up to his face. “Yes, actually.” She lowers her gaze, innocence attempting to replace the fake thoughtful look on her. A pouty, plump bottom lip sticks out slightly. "I was just trying to have a little fun, with someone you trust—" the last word is drawn out with a click on her tongue as she gives an unapologetically smug grin to her brother, watching him and waiting to see when he will choose to melt over his horribly kept composure.

RONANShe lays in her bed like she doesn’t have a worry in the world. Sprawled across her comforter with her ankles crossed, she waits. Waits for his attention. And boy does she have it now. Regan tries her hand at looking thoughtful, something that might be cute if he weren’t considering wringing her neck. Next is her look of innocence, something that doesn’t suit her but its also perfect on her face. But Regan certainly knows how to ruin a moment. Her grin is smug, like she believes she had one upped him this time. As if trust had anything to do with it.

A large hand wraps around one of her ankles before jerking roughly to the edge of her bed. He doesn’t care if her dress rides up in the process. Though he certainly does notice when her long legs are revealed, her flawless skin all begging to be reddened. “You forget…” His voice is deceptively soft as he releases her ankle in exchange for a wrist to haul her to her feet. The fact that she is drunk doesn’t matter to him as he maneuvers her around like a rag doll. Thrusting his fingers into her hair, he grips fiery locks at her nape in a vice like grip. He meant for her to feel the burn in her scalp.

“I don’t trust anyone.” With you.

Pulling her down with him, Ronan once again sits on the edge of her bed. But this time, he forces her across his lap. And he doesn’t care if she fights, or how she fights. It all ends with her in the same spot. “Perhaps you need something to help you remember.” Inch by inch, he pulls her dress up, bunching around her hips and out of his way. He’s met with the captivating sight of her bare ass. He tuts with feigned disapproval. In truth, he was enthralled with the knowledge that she hadn’t been wearing anything under her dress this whole time. But the thought of Grayson's wandering hands had his fist clenching her hair tighter. Running one hand up the backs of her thigh, he releases her hair but that hand is quickly placed between her shoulder blades, pinning her place. She wasn’t escaping him this time. Their parents wouldn’t be home for hours, if they came home tonight at all.

Ronan had her all to himself.

But tonight was about punishment, even if her bare pussy was just begging to be touched. He wanted her to remember what happened when she thought it wise to rile him up. To drug and seduce his best friend. He wanted her to think twice. Palming one cheek, he squeezed hard. “Count.” Was her only warning before his palm came down on her ass with a sharp slap! Her skin was deliciously warm under his hand. Flexing his fingers, he massaged her flesh, giving her only a moment to realize what was going to happen to her tonight.

REGANHer breath gets caught in her throat once more when his firm grip finds an ankle of hers. She can't help the mocking laugh that escapes her lips, realizing she's hit the right buttons in the right order. She let's her arms trail above her head and slide down the comforter behind her as he pulls her to the edge of the bed. She can feel the bottom of her dress tug upward, crinkling and catching while revealing more flesh that ached to be touched further up her thighs. Her head rolls to the side and meets a shoulder, while runs her freed foot up the other leg that Ronan has in his grasp. A smile is parted as she begins to croon whatever nonsense is to come next at his first words, but is cut off abruptly as he grabs a wrist to yank her upright from the bed. A drunken, deep chuckle meets his face with her lidded gaze and unapologetically taunting smile.

When his fist reaches for a handful of hair and locks in his hold there, she can't help but let out a short sigh of satisfaction from the stinging sensation he's induced with a single tug. She gives another laugh as she attempts to lean back into his grip for a moment, finding his eyes. “Not even your little.. innocent..sister?” she emphasizes each word slowly but the drunken chords add a heaviness that draws them out a little longer. Before she laugh at his face and try to spin out of his grip, he's hauling her down over his lap.

Between gravity and his grip on the back of her head still, she gives a disgruntled and sloppy excuse of an attempt to put herself up right. She fights the impossible, and is planted firmly over Ronan's lap, where his hands are felt at her thighs. There's a slight jolt of sensation that creeps upward from his fingers meet her skin, and when his hands have tucked the dress into little bunched up layers at her hips, she can't help but give a little arch as the cool air finds the bare skin of her ass. She gives another throaty chuckle, not at Ronan's words and the idea of her choosing to go commando tonight. “A reminder—that I can do what I want, when I want, with who I—" there's a sharp inhale to cut off her sentence as his hand trails the back of her thighs. He's able to coax little goose bumps along the back of her legs, while the knot in her core is once more lit a blaze. It's when his grip releases and buries her further into the locking hold he now has on her that she begins to seethe and push upward.

"Ronan, let me up you fucking—" her voice gets caught in her throat as he connects his palm with her bare ass. She tenses at the stinging sensation he's left her with. Meanwhile, all at the same time the fire in her core is stoked further and burns with the sting—and her desperate, slickened cunt reminds her of what it is she's feeling in this moment and it sends a rush of her heat to her face and ears. She moves her arms around, to gain leverage somewhere to push herself up, while trying to twist out of Ronan's grasp. “Count..” his command still ringing in her ear, it prompts her to take a fist and throw it at Ronan's calf. “Fuck you, Ronan, let me go!” She's gives another disgruntled exhale of frustration as she fights to free herself.

RONAN“You’re hardly innocent.” He scoffed. this wasn’t the first time she’d made him jealous, that she paraded other men in front of them, letting them grope her. She’d been playing this game for years. He could still recall the boy that had conveniently disappeared after Ronan bloodied his face and sent him to the hospital. All four simply touching what was his. She was his toy. No one else’s. She knew it too. But still she fought him. No matter how she tried, she couldn’t contain her reaction whenever he touched her. His hands on her thighs had her words being cut short, her gasp a sound he could hear everyday for the rest of his life. A smirk she’d never see curled one corner of his mouth as his eyes darkened with sinful desire.

Ronan… The warning in her voice was disregarded. Again, his touch stole the words right from her throat. The resounding slap momentarily stunned her before she begins to fight him in earnest. But his little sister is no match for him. His hold tightens. Regan isn’t getting up anytime soon. Not until he sees her mascara running down her face as she begs his forgiveness. She begins to fight him in earnest, her ineffectual little fist connoted with his calf, pulling a dark laugh from his lips. Hooking a leg around one arm, he pins it between his leg and the bed, leaving her with only free hand. Though he knows better than to let his sister keep any weapon. Grabbing her wrist, he twists her arm behind her back, using it as leverage to hold her in place. Spitting curses at him, he only tuts his disapproval. His palm connected with her ass a second time, but this time his fingertips were dangerously close to her glistening pussy. She was wet. His jaw would tic as he resisted the urge to slide his fingers through her lips, to plunge into her warmth without warning. “I said count.” There was a growl in his voice. Baritones were husky as his cock hardened against her belly. “Or I start over.” Any mistake would put her right back at one.

In rapid succession, he slapped her ass three more times. One. Two. Three. Left. Right. Left. With mismatched eyes glued to her ass, he watched as her skin turned red, her skin warming under his abuse. His breathing deepened. It was the farthest he had ever crossed the line with her but he found himself unable to stop. Ronan was hungry for more. Again, his fingertips trailed up her thigh, gliding up either side of her wet hole. One. Two. Three more times. The sound of his palm connecting with her flesh filled her bedroom. His pattern changed, not letting her anticipate and guard her exposed ass from him. Listening to the sounds of her ragged breathing, he waited for her body to go lax with submission, for the fight to leave her. But this was Regan, she wasn’t going to cave easily.

REGANAnother shrieking, disgruntled sound escapes her lips. She's frustrated, in so many ways, and she hardly form a proper thought. When her next words leave her lips, it's from a lack of sense in her mind, much like the lack of oxygen in one's head that leads them to do or say things they probably shouldn't. “I am—and you're just a jealous, piece of shit, who can't have something that everyone. else. wants.” her words are vindictive, laced with sin and evil as she taunts the glorious beast that is Ronan Ivers, the same beast she's seen unleashed ever since they were old enough to walk and talk. She throws a laugh of triumph she knows she doesn't really have over the situation, a soft growl in her fight against his hold mixed with the laugh as she tries to flail her fists and legs.

As much as she'd like to say it was unexpected, Ronan has pinned one of her arms with a leg, while his hand has twisted her other to behind her back tighter in his hold. She feels another sting on the flesh of her ass his hand collides with her cheek once more. This time, she can feel his finger tips just barely meet the heat pooled between her thighs. He commanded her to count, threatening to start this all over if she didn't. She attempted to collect a breath in her throat, tempted to say something but three consecutive slaps made her writhe and attempt to twist- failing to move an inch, of course. “Fuck. You.” she spat, repeating both words in sync with each slap of her cheeks. The sinister laugh she offered him back was something she couldn't be bothered to fake or not, just something to fuel Ronan's fire.

He still proceeded to redden her ass, never faltering, but always allowing his fingers to trail dangerously close to slickened cunt. With each slap, each frustrating second she was stuck in his grasp, she could feel it throb, feel the mess it was creating between her thighs and she was only turning herself on more. Her nipples heightened the arousal, hardened and pressed against the silk dress that was bunched up around her breasts. But she could feel his own undeniable arousal beneath her, making the heat in her face flush right down to the core that was causing her to drip for ever smack, every word, every drop of attention Ronan was giving her.

Ronan:

Dismantling his sister was like disarming a bomb. There was a very real risk that she could blow up in his face. But Ronan Ivers doesn’t fear consequences. She hurls her words like weapons of mass destruction, pushing him closer and closer to the edge as she digs her claws in. He can feel the familiar heat in his belly, the way his temper rises and his control frays. Regan laughs, like she has the upper hand here, like she could win tonight’s battle. But Ronan intends to his leave his mark on her tonight, he wants to make sure she knows just how far unhinged he can be. It doesn’t matter that she’s his sister. All that matters is that she’s his. And his alone. “We both know I can have whatever I want.” He drawls, his voice rough with a combination of frustration and desire. To prove his point, his fingers ghost over her glistening pussy. Just ever so lightly he brushes her clit. She’s wet, soaked even. Her arousal is messed up across her thighs and an invitation for him to explore further.

She writhes in his grasp, trying and failing to escape the merciless slap of his hand. Fuck. You. She snarled. Gritting his teeth, Ronan brought his hand down across her reddening ass. And again. And again. And again. His palm tingled and he started to feel the bite each time he slapped her flesh. After that, he didn’t keep a pattern, his slaps were sporadic, some hard and some softer. The redder her ass got, the more of his hand prints that branded her skin, the harder he breathed, the more he wanted to fuck her. Ronan couldn’t help himself, he ran his fingers through her wet folds, coating his fingertips in her arousal.

“Tell me, sister, are you wet for them? Or for me?”

His voice was dark and sinister. This was wrong. He shouldn’t want his sister. He shouldn’t want to see tears streaming down her face, her pleas for mercy coming out in between sobs. He shouldn’t fantasize about sinking into her wet heat, ravaging her until she couldn’t walk the next day. He pinched her clit then, his fingers squeezing her flesh roughly, tormenting her even more. Then another smack across her ass, his fingers deliberately brushing over her pussy. Regan failed to follow directions and Ronan continued to punish her for it, loving every time her body tightens with pain and pleasure.

Or for me? His question echoes in his skull. What the fuck was wrong with him? She shouldn’t be dripping for him. Slap! There was a tic in his jaw. This was her fault. All her years of toying with him, taunting him with her tight little body, it had all come to a head. Now he wanted her - mind, body and soul. And he wasn’t the least bit sorry about it. Slap! Slap! His fingers flexed. By now, her ass had to be on fire, each resounding slap excruciating. Not that she would learn.

Regan

There's a shift in the balance between them, Ronan's aura is ever consuming and is eating away at her, gaining leverage and slowly tightening the chokehold he has on her, no matter how hard she fights and resists. “We both know I can have whatever I want.” His words are like a bittersweet poison, hard to swallow but she does so with a conniving grin. She works desperately to gain the scales back in her favor, but to also send him fully over the edge. She knows he always gets what he wants, one way or another, Ronan Ivers never goes without. But she knows she is the exception here—she's something so very close yet so, so far away and off-limits to him—and the thought alone gets her sick mind off. She offers only a scoff, but that's all he give her time to do before his fingers are ghosting themselves across her dampened folds. She's too turned on by her own slick mess she's created between her thighs to protest. And then his voice pierces her ears. “Tell me, sister, are you wet for them? Or for me?” her face flushes at the question and as the heat of his fingers find the heat of her arousal, but not before another grin plasters her still drunken features. She decides, like a fucking fool, in this moment to poke the bear one more time. “Grayson's fingers are to thank for this, you could—” she gasps the lie from her mouth, fists curling as they're still locked in a hold. She let's out a laugh as she tries to collect herself, despite his presence in all the wrong places of her. “You should have asked him for a taste, see what something you can't have tastes like.” she coos, taunting him.

She squirms in his lap, the ache between her thighs is becoming unbearable. When his fingers pinch and squeeze, she twists and contorts even more. Moans and cries fall from her still smiling lips. She doesn't give in, though, she doesn't want him to win this. But what the fuck is this? The burning sensation he's leaving on her ass is no help, fogging her mind as she fights the urge to break into a sob after he lashes his frustration out on her still. There is no reprieve from the overwhelming sensation that's practically buzzing throughout her body, her traitorous cunt still sopping wet and nipples hard against the silk of her dress. She herself is frustrated, unable to even begin searching for a release. But if she can't find a release, she would find an exit, hopefully- push Ronan so far that he too would toss her to the floor and stalk away to find a way to relieve himself. With another moaning cry, she arches her back so her belly presses further into his lap, squirming legs fighting to hoist her ass up just another inch or so, to help better expose the damning evidence between her legs. “If you leave now—”, she gasps, feigning innocence on her breath as she comes up for air that she uses Solely to shove Ronan off the edge Herself. “And Maybe you can beg Grayson to come finish what he started, and fuck me.” She spits her venom at him, unaware Of the consequences she's to face.