A Desire for Dean and Riley
# The Confession ## Undercurrents The air in the bedroom was thick, hanging between them like a third entity. Grant leaned against the doorframe, his muscular frame casting a long shadow across the rumpled sheets. His blue eyes, usually b
Chapter 1
The air in the bedroom was thick, hanging between them like a third entity. Grant leaned against the doorframe, his muscular frame casting a long shadow across the rumpled sheets. His blue eyes, usually bright with adventure, were dark, fixed on Simone where she sat cross-legged on the bed. The fading light caught the gold in her hair and the nervous tremble of her full lower lip.
She had asked him to sit, but he remained standing. Dominance wasn't a costume he wore; it was the quiet certainty in his posture, the patient, unnerving stillness. He watched her fidget, the way her curvy body shifted, the soft swell of her breasts rising and falling with each shallow breath. She was his adventure, his playful submissive, and right now, she was terrified.
“I want…” Simone began, her voice a fragile thing. She faltered, her blue eyes dropping to her hands. “I want Dean.”
Grant didn't move. A single scar above his eyebrow seemed to whiten in the dim light.
She rushed on, the words tumbling out in a desperate, needy stream. “Not just… I want him to be a regular. Here. With us.” She forced her gaze up to meet his, a spark of her own defiance igniting. “You can have… you can be with Riley. Whenever you want. But I… I need Dean to… to take me.”
The silence that followed was absolute. It wasn't refusal; it was calculation. Grant finally pushed off the doorframe, the floorboards creaking under his weight. He came to stand at the foot of the bed, looking down at her. He saw the fantasy playing out behind her eyes—not just a threesome, but a surrender. The raw, extreme edge of it. Dean, with his deceptive slimness and those full lips, dominating her. The idea of it being non-consensual, a regular, brutal taking she craved.
A slow, dangerous smile touched Grant’s lips, revealing the dimple in his cheek. It wasn't a kind smile. It was a threshold being crossed.
“You’d give me Riley,” he stated, his voice low and rough. “For that.”
Simone nodded, a sharp, eager jerk of her chin. The submissive in her was laid bare, offering her deepest, most forbidden want as a bargaining chip.
Grant reached out, not to touch her, but to trace the edge of the mattress beside her thigh. His gaze burned into her. “Then you’ll have your fantasy, Simone.” He leaned in, his breath hot against her ear. “But when he’s here… when he takes what he wants from you… you remember who allowed it. You remember who you truly belong to.”
He straightened, the decision made. The obstacle wasn't jealousy; it was control. And he had just reasserted it, completely. The confession hadn't created a rift—it had forged a new, more intricate chain. And the first link would be Dean.
Chapter 2
“You want Dean whenever you want,” Grant repeated, his voice a low vibration in the charged air. “As long as it’s within my permission?”
Simone’s heart hammered against her ribs. She swallowed, her throat dry, but her blue eyes held his without wavering. This was the final lock, the ultimate key to her fantasy. “Yes,” she breathed. “Yes, Grant.”
A new, predatory stillness settled over him. He leaned forward, bracing his hands on the mattress on either side of her hips, caging her in. The scent of him—clean sweat and salt air—was overwhelming.
“So you crave his cock,” Grant murmured, his lips inches from hers. His eyes dropped to her mouth. “That Pilot's fat
cock you want to suck. You want him to sin for you. To take you.”
“Yes,” she whispered again, the word a desperate prayer.
“And Dean,” Grant continued, leaning closer still, his breath hot on her skin. “He’s been dreaming of this, hasn’t he? Fantasizing about my wife. Willing to do anything to get inside this tight little pussy.” His hand came up, a rough palm cupping her jaw, forcing her to hold his gaze. “Tell me what he sees when he dreams.”
Simone’s mind swam with the explicit images she’d conjured herself. The words tumbled out, raw and unfiltered. “He… he sees me on my knees. He forces his cock into my mouth. He fucks my face until I choke. He talks about how he’s going to ruin me, how he’s going to rape me so hard I forget my own name.”
Grant’s thumb stroked her lower lip, his touch deceptively gentle. “And you get wet thinking about it.” It wasn’t a question.
She whimpered, nodding, her body betraying her with a hot pulse of pure need.
“Then you’ll have it,” he growled, the promise final and absolute. “This weekend. You’ll get your fantasy. But when he’s here…” His grip tightened slightly. “ And you thank me for letting him use you.” He released her chin, his hand sliding down to squeeze her breast through the thin fabric of her top, a brutal claim. “Do you understand?”
A shiver of pure submission wracked her body, mingling with the scorching lust. “I understand,” Simone gasped.
“Good.” He straightened up, his dominant frame towering over her. The deal was struck in the most visceral terms—her deepest hunger traded for his absolute control. The arrangement was no longer just a confession; it was a pact, written in desire and ownership.
He turned and walked toward the door, pausing at the threshold. Without looking back, he delivered his final command, the words hanging in the dusky room like a vow.
“Start thinking about what you’ll wear when he comes to take what he wants.”
Chapter 3
Simone’s key trembled in the lock. Friday. The silence of the house felt charged, like the air before a storm. She dropped her bag by the door, her heart already pounding a frantic rhythm against her ribs.
She walked to the bedroom, and there it was, laid out across the rumpled duvet: a white silk robe so sheer it was nearly mist, meant to accent the delicate white lace bra and panties beneath. The panties were cut high on the hip, a suggestion of vulnerability. A single note rested on the fabric.
*Your confessions and your honesty will be rewarded tonight. Be at the airfield for your taxi to deliver you at 7pm.*
Her breath caught. *Taxi*. Her pilot. A shiver, part fear and part pure, unadulterated need, traced her spine. She ran a finger over the cool silk, envisioning Dean’s hands on it, his blue eyes dark with intent as he peeled it from her shoulders. For a little while, he would own her. The fire inside her roared to life.
But they were going to take a little detour first. Grant’s final command echoed. *Start thinking about what you’ll wear.*
She shed her work clothes with clumsy haste, her skin humming. The lace felt foreign and thrilling against her skin. She slipped the robe on, the silk whispering over her curves. In the mirror, she saw a ghost of herself—pale, shimmering, offered up. It was perfect.
At 6:45 PM, she stood at the small local airfield, the robe cinched tight against the evening breeze. The Bell Ranger faced toward her, Everything on the airfield was quiet as if this was to be a private intimate affair. She searched the grounds for Dean but couldn't locate him. The door swung open on the Bell ranger.
Dean appeared in the hatchway, his slim frame silhouetted against the cockpit lights. His blond hair was ruffled, his usual playful grin absent. His gaze swept over her, from her windswept hair to the thin silk clinging to her body, and his full lips parted slightly.
“Your taxi awaits,” he said, his voice low. He offered a hand.
She took it, his grip firm and warm as he helped her up into the passenger seat in the back He leaned close to fasten her harness, his cheek brushing hers. “Grant’s instructions were very specific,” he murmured near her ear.
“What are they?” Simone asked, her voice barely a whisper.
He pulled back just enough to look at her, his blue eyes serious. “I’m to fly you to the coordinates he gave me. No questions. No deviations.” He traced the line of the robe’s lapel with a single finger. “And I’m to make sure you remember who arranged this… gift.”
He sealed the door and slid into the pilot’s seat beside her. As the engine roared back to life and they began to roll toward the runway, Simone stared out at the darkening sky. The cockpit felt impossibly intimate, a bubble of suspended reality. She was wearing almost nothing, flying into the night with a man who had starred in her most forbidden fantasies, on a path laid by the husband who owned her.
Dean’s hand settled on the throttle. “Ready for your detour?”
Chapter 4
Simone unclipped her harness, the nylon straps falling away. The cabin vibration thrummed through her as she shrugged out of her overcoat, letting it pool at her feet. The chill of the high-altitude air kissed her skin through the sheer white silk robe. She turned slightly in her seat to face Dean, her heart a trapped bird against her ribs.
“Do you like what I’m wearing?” she asked, her voice barely audible over the rotor wash.
Dean’s gaze snapped from the instrument panel to her. His blue eyes, usually playful, darkened instantly. They raked over the transparent silk, the pale lace barely containing the swell of her breasts, the curve of her hips. A muscle twitched in his jaw. The playful pilot was gone, replaced by something raw and ravenous.
“Yes,” he exclaimed, the word a guttural punch of sound. His eyes promised no choices, only pure, consuming desire.
Simone shivered, turning to look out the window. Endless, moonlit water stretched beneath them, swallowing the horizon. “We’re over water?”
“It’s a surprise,” Dean said, his voice a low thrum that matched the engine. “Sit back and relax.”
Her eyes drifted down. The fabric of his flight suit was taut over his thighs. A prominent, hard ridge strained against the zipper, unmistakable even in the dim cockpit lights. Her mouth went dry.
He saw her looking. A slow, dangerous smile touched his full lips. “See something you want?”
“I…” Simone’s breath hitched. The fantasy was no longer in her head; it was here, in this vibrating metal bubble suspended between sky and sea.
Without another word, Dean reached over. His hand, warm and sure, settled on her bare thigh above the stocking top. His thumb stroked the sensitive skin there, a deliberate, claiming touch. “Grant told me to make sure you understood the terms,” he said, his voice dropping to a predatory whisper. “This is a gift from him. My taking of you is a privilege he allows.”
His fingers slid higher, under the hem of the silk robe, tracing the lace edge of her panties. “And when I take what I want,” he continued, his eyes locked on hers, “you will thank him for it. You will say his name while I’m buried inside you. Do you understand?”
Simone could only nod, a helpless, eager motion. His touch was fire, his words chains. She was exactly where she had begged to be: owned by one man, and about to be used by another.
Dean’s hand retreated, returning to the controls. “Good,” he said, his tone shifting back to that of the pilot in command. “We’re almost there.” He adjusted their heading, the helicopter banking slightly. Below, a dark, solitary shape broke the silver expanse of water—a small island with no signs of any inhabitants.
The destination was in sight. The prelude was over
Chapter 5
Dean laid her gently on the mattress, the coarse fabric a stark contrast to the silk of her robe. The cabana was open on all sides to the moonlit beach and the rhythmic sigh of the ocean. He knelt beside her, his hands settling on her hips.
“Does Grant really know I’m here?” Simone whispered again, her need for the fantasy’s framework as urgent as her need for his touch.
Dean’s thumbs hooked into the lace of her panties. “Every detail,” he said, his voice a low thrum of possession. “He picked this island. He packed the wine.” His eyes locked on hers, blue and pitiless in the dim light. “He told me exactly how he wants to hear you beg for me.”
He peeled the panties down her thighs, his knuckles grazing her wet skin. Simone gasped, arching off the mattress. “And what does he want to hear?”
Dean tossed the lace aside and crawled over her, caging her body with his own. He smelled of jet fuel and night air. “He wants to hear you thank him while I fuck you,” he growled, his lips brushing hers. “He wants to hear you admit you’re his slut, letting another man ruin you because he allows it.”
His hand slid between them, his fingers finding her soaked pussy. He pressed two fingers inside, a swift, claiming invasion that stole her breath. “He knows you’re dripping for my cock right now. He knows you’ve been dreaming of this rape.”
“Yes,” Simone moaned, her body clenching around his fingers.
Dean withdrew his hand, brought his wet fingers to her lips. “Taste yourself,” he commanded. “Taste how badly you want this.”
She opened her mouth, sucking his fingers clean, the salty-sweet taste of her own arousal making her whimper with shame and need.
“Good girl,” he murmured, his other hand pulling at the tie of her robe. He spread the silk open, exposing the lace bra barely containing her breasts. “Now, let’s make sure Grant hears everything he needs to.” He reached for the iPad on the mattress, tapped the screen, and a video call connected.
Grant’s face filled the screen, his expression unreadable, his blue eyes burning from thousands of feet away. Simone froze.
“Look at him,” Dean ordered, his mouth at her ear. “Tell him what you want.”
Chapter 6
The screen glowed between them, a portal to the other side of the world. Simone’s eyes locked on Grant’s, but they flickered to the movement beside him. Riley was there, curled quietly on the couch, a silent witness in the dim light of Grant’s living room. Her presence made the fantasy real, solid. This was a shared pact, not a secret.
“It’s all ours tonight, Simone,” Grant’s voice came through the iPad’s speaker, calm and absolute. “No rules. Just passion. Stay as long as you want. But you return to me before first light.”
Dean’s hands, now free of his flight suit, slid up her inner thighs. His palms were hot. “You heard him, bunny. The night is ours.” He leaned forward, his lips a breath from her ear, his eyes never leaving the screen. “He’s watching. She’s watching. And you’re dripping all over this bed for me.”
“Maybe… maybe we should go to them,” Simone whispered, the plea a thin veneer over her want.
Dean’s laugh was a low, dark sound. “No way off this island unless you surrender.” He hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his briefs, peeling them down. His cock sprang free, thick and already hard. The sight, combined with Grant’s unblinking gaze, made her pussy clench, a fresh, throbbing wave of wetness soaking her.
“I guess… we can stay for a little while,” she breathed, the words a final, sweet surrender.
“That’s my girl,” Grant said, his voice a rough caress from the screen.
Dean settled his weight between her splayed legs, the head of his cock nudging against her soaked entrance. He didn’t push in. Not yet. He held himself there, a teasing, brutal pressure. “Tell him what you feel,” Dean commanded, his own breath becoming ragged.
Simone’s head fell back, her blonde hair fanning across the pillow. Her blue eyes found Grant’s again. “I feel him… right there. He’s so hard. I’m so open for him.”
“For who?” Grant asked, his tone deceptively soft.
“For Dean,” she moaned.
“And who does that make you?” Riley’s voice, gentle but clear, joined the fray from the other side of the screen.
The question shattered her. Simone’s hips bucked, trying to force Dean inside, but he held firm, denying her. Tears of sheer need pricked her eyes. “It makes me yours,” she cried out, the confession ripped from her throat. “Grant’s. I’m your slut… letting him have me because you allow it.”
“Then take your gift,” Grant said, his final command.
Dean drove into her with one deep, punishing stroke, filling her completely. Simone screamed, a raw sound lost in the ocean’s roar as he began to move, setting a relentless, claiming rhythm that was everything she’d begged for.
Chapter 7
Simone’s scream dissolved into the humid island air, a raw, unclaimed sound. Her eyes flew to the iPad, now a dark, silent rectangle on the nightstand. Grant had ended the call. The severing was absolute.
Dean’s lips brushed her ear, his growl a possessive vibration against her skin. “I told you. No one can hear you but me.”
The empowerment was instant, electric. He was still buried inside her, a thick, relentless presence. She was alone with her pilot and his fat cock. The fantasy was hers to command now.
She bucked her hips, taking him deeper, a sharp, testing motion. “Then make me scream louder,” she breathed, her voice a dark challenge. “Do everything you want.”
A feral grin split his face. He pulled out slowly, making her feel every inch of his withdrawal, then flipped her onto her stomach with a rough, effortless tug. His hands gripped her hips, yanking her ass into the air. “You asked for it, bunny.”
He didn’t re-enter her. Instead, his thumb found her other hole, circling the tight furl with a slick, insistent pressure. Her whole body clenched in shock and want.
Dean murmured, his voice low and dangerous. “This is for me. This is where you really let the darkness in.”
Simone buried her face in the pillow, nodding frantically. “Yes, Fucking do it.”
“Say it.”
“It’s for you,” she gasped. “Take it. Take all of me.”
Dean looked down at her perfect star, her rim throbbing with anticipation " Do it! Fuck my ass Dean Fuck me!!"
He spit into his palm, slicking himself, then pressed the broad head of his cock against her forbidden entrance. The pressure was immense, a burning stretch that stole her breath. She pushed back against him, a silent, desperate plea.
He gave her an inch, then another, a brutal, conquering invasion. Her cries were muffled by the bedding, tears of pain and ecstasy leaking from her eyes. He held himself there, fully seated, letting her body convulse around him.
“You’re so fucking tight,” he groaned, his control fraying. “My good, dark little slut.”
He began to move, a slow, deep piston that lit a fire in her core. With each thrust, her earlier submission melted into a fierce, claiming desire. She was using him. Using this moment. Awakening something primal and hungry.
“Harder,” she demanded, the words ripped from her throat.
Dean obeyed, his pace turning punishing, his hands digging bruises into her flesh. The bed rocked with their force. Simone reached between her own legs, finding her swollen clit, rubbing frantic circles as he fucked her ass. The dual sensations coiled into a terrifying tension.
“I’m not… I’m not going to stop,” she warned him, her voice ragged with impending release.
“Then don’t,” he grunted, driving into her. “Come for me. Scream for me.”
Chapter 8
Her climax was a crashing wave, endless and brutal. Simone lost count of how many times her pussy convulsed around him. Her body was a live wire, every nerve screaming Dean’s name.
Suddenly, the iPad on the nightstand flickered to life. The screen filled with the raw, high-definition image of Grant’s thick cock pounding relentlessly into Riley’s tight, glistening ass. Riley’s face was contorted in ecstasy against the sheets of their bedroom at home. Grant’s dominant grunts were a faint soundtrack to Dean’s own punishing rhythm inside her.
“Look at your husband,” Dean growled into her ear, his thrusts into her ass never slowing. “Look at him claim what’s his. While I claim what’s mine.”
Simone obeyed, her eyes locked on the screen. The duality was exquisite torture. She was split between two worlds, owned in both. She watched Grant’s possession and felt Dean’s. Her surrender was absolute.
Finally, with a final, deep grind, Dean stilled. His body tensed, and a hot, flooding release filled her. “Take it,” he commanded, his voice ragged. “All of it. It’s what you wanted.”
She did, her own body shuddering through another devastating peak at the feel of his possession.
For a long moment, there was only the sound of their ragged breathing and the distant ocean. Dean pulled out slowly. Simone felt utterly wrecked, gloriously used.
Her gaze drifted past the cabana’s open wall, overlooking the darkening sea. She spied the outdoor shower tucked against the bungalow’s side, a simple stone platform open to the sky.
A slow, wicked grin spread across her lips. She pushed herself up on trembling arms.
“It’s not over yet,” she said, her voice hoarse but defiant.
Dean watched her, a dark curiosity in his blue eyes. “No?”
“No.” She stood, her legs shaky but determined. She walked, naked and proud, toward the shower. “You made a mess. Now you’re going to wash it off me.”
She stepped under the cool spray, gasping as it hit her overheated skin. She looked back at him, a challenge in her eyes.
Dean’s dimpled smile returned. He stood and followed.
Chapter 9
The cool spray of the outdoor shower washed over them, a stark contrast to the heat still radiating from their bodies. Simone stepped under it first, turning to face Dean with a defiant smirk that didn’t quite mask her shivering. The water plastered her blonde hair to her shoulders and beaded on the sensitive peaks of her breasts.
“Your turn,” she breathed, her voice still hoarse from screaming his name.
Dean moved under the spray with her, closing the small distance. He took the bar of soap and began to lather his hands, his blue eyes locked on hers. His touch, so recently possessive and brutal, was now impossibly tender. He started at her shoulders, his slick hands sliding down her arms.
“Everywhere I was,” he murmured, more to himself than to her.
He washed her back, his fingers tracing the faint marks from where he’d gripped her. He soaped her full breasts, cupping their weight, circling her nipples until they tightened into hard peaks against his palms. Simone leaned into it, her own hands coming up to press flat against the wet, firm muscles of his chest. She felt his heartbeat, a strong, steady rhythm beneath her fingertips.
He knelt before her on the stone platform. His hands slid down her stomach, over the curve of her hips, and between her thighs. He washed her there with a slow, deliberate thoroughness that made her knees weak. He cleaned the lingering evidence of his possession from her pussy and her sore ass, his touch clinical and reverent at once.
When he was done, she took the soap from him. “My turn.”
Her mission was different. She paid no attention to cleaning. She lathered his chest, her fingers tracing the line of freckles across his collarbone, the hollows of his shoulders. She soaped his flat stomach, her nails scraping lightly through the blond hair there. She washed his cock, still semi-hard and sensitive, her grip firm as she stroked him slowly from root to tip. She lingered on his balls, cupping the heavy weight of them in her soapy hand.
“Here,” she whispered, leaning close so her lips brushed his ear over the sound of the water. “And here.” Her other hand slid behind him, over the tight muscles of his ass. “These are the spots I want to taste.”
Dean groaned, a raw sound swallowed by the shower. He pulled her against him, their slick skin sliding together. “You’re a greedy little thing.”
“Grant gave you to me as a gift,” she said, tipping her head back to look up at him, water catching on her lashes. Her tone was pure ownership. “I’m going to take you.”
He kissed her then, hard and deep, his full lips claiming hers. His hands came up to cradle her face, thumbs stroking her cheekbones. The shift from ruthless taker to this—this intense, focused tenderness—was more devastating than anything that had come before.
He broke the kiss, resting his forehead against hers. “Then take me,” he breathed. “But not here.”
He shut off the water and led her, dripping and steaming in the warm night air, back into the cabana. The large bed awaited them, lit only by moonlight and the soft glow of a single lamp. He laid her down on the cool sheets and stood over her, his body a silhouette of lean muscle against the night sky.
“How?” he asked, his voice a low command. “How do you want to take your gift?”
Simone spread her legs slowly, a smile playing on her lips. Her pussy throbbed with a renewed, aching need. “I want you in my mouth,” she said, the words leaving no room for doubt. “I want to taste every inch of you until you forget your own name.”
Chapter 10
Simone’s eyes flicked to the nightstand. The iPad screen was a void of black glass again. The connection had ended, but the fantasy hadn’t. Was Grant washing Riley now, just as she had washed her pilot? Were his strong hands moving over another woman’s skin with the same possessive thoroughness? Her pussy flooded anew, a slick, hot pulse of arousal soaking her inner thighs at the thought of them sharing each other, but in two separate, perfect places.
She dragged her gaze back to Dean. He stood over her, his cock hardening fully under her hungry stare. Her fantasy of a friend-with-benefits was no longer a whispered confession; it was here, alive and pulsing in this cabana. And she had a cock to suck.
“How do you want to take your gift?” he’d asked.
“Like this,” Simone purred.
She pushed herself up on the bed, her hands sliding up his thighs. She didn't kiss him again. She went straight for what she wanted, her mouth hovering just above the thick, veined length of him. Her breath was hot on his skin.
“Look at you,” she murmured, her voice a low, worshipful thing. “Every part of him I get to have.” She wasn't talking to Dean. She was talking to the fantasy, to the reality of it.
She leaned in and dragged the flat of her tongue slowly from the base of his cock all the way to the flushed, leaking tip. A shudder ran through him. She circled the head, lapping at his pre-cum with a soft, greedy sound.
“You taste like salt and sin,” she moaned against his skin, then took him into her mouth.
She took him deep, her lips stretching around his girth, her tongue working the sensitive underside. One hand wrapped around the base of him, stroking what her mouth couldn't reach. The other cupped his balls, rolling their heavy weight in her palm. She set a rhythm that was all claiming pleasure—deep sucks followed by fluttering licks, her eyes closed in concentration.
Dean’s hands buried themselves in her damp hair. “Fuck, Simone… yes. Just like that.”
She pulled off with a wet pop, breathless. “Mine,” she gasped, looking up at him through her lashes. Her lips were slick and swollen. “This weekend, you’re mine. He gave you to me.”
She dove back down, taking him even deeper, her throat relaxing to accommodate him. The wet, rhythmic sounds filled the cabana, a counterpoint to Dean’s ragged groans. Her own need was a fierce throb between her legs, but this was what she wanted right now—the power of her mouth on him, the proof of her ownership, and the dizzying knowledge that miles away, Grant was claiming his own gift.