Seduction Principles Season 4, Episode 16

Plan A

Ella Hughes & Seth Gamble

The party is over. Ella is still in the dress, late and exclusive, pearls warm against her throat. Seth is beside her on the sofa, jacket open, the two of them talking in the low light as if the night has not quite ended. Her hand finds his knee. His finds the line of her pearls. The sentence they were in dissolves into a kiss.

It is unhurried at first, then not. His mouth opens against hers. She sighs into it. The dress slips from one shoulder, then the other. He kisses the newly bare skin, the hollow above the pearls, the swell of her breast as the fabric gives. Her nipples tighten under his palm. She arches, a soft moan caught between them, and draws him down.

He goes to his knees between hers. The dress is gathered at her waist. He kisses the inside of her thigh until she is wet enough that his mouth finds her easily, tongue slow over her clit, then deeper. She holds his hair. Her hips lift. The pearls shift against her chest with every breath.

When he rises she opens his trousers and frees him. He is already hard, heavy in her hand, the head flushed. She takes him into her mouth, unhurried, one hand at the base, the other spread on his thigh. He watches her, fingers gentle at her nipple, rolling it while she works him, a low sound in his throat each time she takes him deeper.

They move. She turns, settles over him, and rides from behind — his chest to her back, her hands braced, his hands at her hips and then up to her breasts again. He fills her in long strokes. She is slick around him. The pace stays close, almost careful, until it is not. He holds her there and comes inside her, a deep pulse she feels all the way through.

After, she turns and takes him in her mouth again, slower now, cleaning him with her tongue, pearls still at her throat, the dress forgotten on the sofa.

Plan B

Alexa Grace & Danny Mountain

They are already kissing when the scene finds them. Alexa’s hands are in Danny’s hair. His are at her waist, then under the hem of her top, pushing it up and off. Her breasts bare, nipples tight. He bends to them, mouth closing over one, then the other, tongue circling, a light pull that makes her breath catch. She holds his head there.

His boxers come down. He is hard against her palm, hot, the shaft firm under her fingers. She sinks and takes him into her mouth, lips wet, a slow slide to the base and back, eyes lifted. He groans, hand in her hair, not forcing, only holding.

Then it is his turn. He lays her back, hooks the black thong and draws it down her legs. She is already wet, a shine at her folds, clit swollen when he parts her with his thumbs. His mouth covers her. He licks in long strokes, then narrower, staying on her clit until her thighs tremble and her hand fists in the sheet.

He comes up over her. She guides him in. Missionary, close, his weight braced so he can watch her face. She reaches between them and plays with her clit while he moves, two fingers circling in time with his thrusts. He is deep. She is wet enough that each stroke sounds soft in the room. They kiss through it, broken only when she moans against his mouth, her hand never quite leaving herself, his hips never quite leaving hers.