I woke at the dacha with a splitting headache and my panties tangled at my knees. My ass throbbed, a blunt reminder of how much vodka I’d poured down last night during the birthday bash with the crew. Sunlight stabbed through the curtains while I tried to piece together the blur.
Alex strolled in carrying coffee, that familiar smirk already in place. “Morning, champ. You were declaring yourself queen of the dance floor around midnight. Then you decided the real party was elsewhere.”
“Elsewhere meaning your lap, apparently,” I shot back, sitting up even though every movement made my ass protest. “You always this helpful after getting a girl blackout drunk?”
“Only when she’s the one pinning me to the couch and whispering exactly what she wants,” he replied, eyes flicking to my bare thighs. “You were very specific about my cock and how hard you needed it.”
I stood, deliberately letting the sheet drop, owning the ache. “Then I guess we’re finishing what I started.” I shoved him onto the bed, straddled his hips, and freed his already hard length. “Stay still. I’m driving.”
His cock slid into my dripping pussy first, wet and tight from the night before. I rode him with purpose, panting as I ground down, then shifted so the head nudged my sore ass. “You came here last night,” I said between thrusts, “but this time I want to feel every inch while I’m sober.” He groaned, hands on my ass but not controlling, as I took him deeper, sweat beading on my skin.
I leaned forward for a quick, filthy blowjob, tasting myself on him, then sank back onto his cock until he came with a shout, hot cum filling me. My own orgasm followed, pussy clenching, ass still burning in the best way. We lay there sweating and panting, the morning air thick with sex.
Alex brushed damp hair from my face. “Round two later, or are you saving that energy for the rest of the guests?”
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