by Tha Wrecka
Victoria had Rickman, once. It was several years ago, when she and Lex were 'together', after a party.
Lex was elsewhere, at a meeting, supposedly. Victoria was full of champagne -- though she was easy enough when sober -- and Rickman had been giving her the eye all night.
He didn't waste any time on small talk, just sidled up to her and asked, "Wanna fuck?"
"Sure," she replied, putting her champagne glass down on a nearby table.
They kissed in the limo on the way and as they entered the building. He shrugged off his jacket and tie, throwing them over the furniture. She kicked off her shoes just before they landed on the couch.
After a second or two of fumbling he produced a condom from his pocket. She unzipped his pants and rolled it onto his dick with nimble fingers, then pulled up her skirt and sank onto him with ease.
It was over almost before it was started. Thirty seconds after she started to move, he came with a shudder, rasping out, "Kyle."
Victoria had never had a problem with other people's names being called out during sex. Let men fantasise what they wanted, she just wanted to get laid. She just didn't like feeling unsatisfied.
She put herself back together and picked up her shoes, leaving Rickman slumped on the couch. Maybe Lex would be home, she thought, and, if not, at least he had willing staff.
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