Caution: this story is not meant to stand alone. The Beyond Happily Ever After stories are vignettes and outtakes showing the O’Kanes in their daily lives, in between the adventures and often after their happy endings. These stories were written exclusively for readers and fans of the series, and will probably not make very much sense to anyone not familiar with the characters.
Ravished: October 2017 Patreon Reward Story. This story is a short vignette voted on by our Patreon supporters. In it, Finn watches Trix’s first dance at the newly reopened Broken Circle and the two enjoy a little sexy time together in her new dressing room. (Note: Patreon stories are exclusive to subscribers for the first six months. After that, they’ll be available to download free on our website.)
Characters: Trix and Finn
Timeline: Set after Beyond Forever.
Tucked just out of view backstage, Finn watched her sway with the music, every liquid movement graceful. Magical. Her curly red hair writhed like flames under the hot lights, and her pale skin shimmered with a golden glow that was only partly due to makeup.
For most of the time Finn had been an O’Kane, Trix’s act had been hard-edged and rough. Messy makeup, messy music. Fierce challenge and raw passion. But tonight, to christen the stage of the newly reopened Broken Circle, she’d gone back to her roots. Emerald green lace cupped her tits as her tightly laced corset lifted them, showing off a bounty glorious enough to set every mouth in the audience to watering.
Finn didn’t mind them looking. He was the one who would get to touch them when Trix finished her act and stalked off the stage hot and horny and hungry for a good hard fuck.
When she danced behind the screen obscuring her from the audience’s view, Finn could still see her. She stared at him as she peeled off one glove, then the other, and tossed them over the screen.
The audience stamped their feet and shouted for her to come back. They could only see the outline of her body against the screen, but Finn was getting all of her.
He showed his appreciation with a lazy look up and down and back again, along with a slow smile of promise. She mirrored it with a heated grin of her own as her fingers worked the hooks on the front of her corset.
Inch by inch, the fabric parted, revealing the swells of her breasts and then the hard tips of her nipples. She tossed the corset aside, as well, and ran her hands over her skin.
With the music blaring, no one in the audience could hear his hoarse murmur. No one but Trix. “If you were standing over here, I’d be sucking on your nipples already.”
She shivered through a silent laugh and pinched them.
No doubt the shadows playing on the screen were intoxicating. The people shouting for more sure seemed to be enjoying it. Finn was too busy flexing his fingers, jealous of her hands for being where he wanted his own.
But this was the game, their own personal brand of foreplay. Trix might dance in front of the patrons of the Broken Circle, but every night she really danced for him.
And he was just as much in her thrall as all those drunks in the audience.
By the time she broke out the fans, they were howling. But all Finn could see was miles of naked skin, shielded from their view and open to his, along with every secret, promising glance she sent his way.
He’d done a lot of things in his life, a lot of hard things. None of them had ever seemed as difficult as keeping the soles of his boots fixed to the floor until she finished her routine with a flourish of fans and came to him.
The roar of the crowd covered the sound of her fans hitting the stage and her bright, bubbling laughter. She launched herself into his arms, and he caught her, his hands sliding over all of that warm, smooth skin. The shimmery gold dusting her body transferred to his fingers and his vest, and he didn’t give a shit.
He pulled her closer and kissed her.
Her tongue slicked over his for a long moment—then she bit his lower lip and broke away. “We have to hurry.”
In the past, sometimes he’d gotten so worked up from watching her that they’d swung into a convenient prop closet or even made do with the darkness behind the stage. But this was the new Broken Circle. Everything about it was bigger.
Trix squealed with laughter as he hoisted her higher and turned past a trio of giggling dancers. The backstage exit led to a long hallway lined with doors, half of them bearing names printed on colorful signs.
He stopped in front of the one that said TRIX in green glitter surrounded by peacock feathers and pressed her against it. “Have I mentioned how convenient this is?” he rumbled as he groped for the doorknob. “I should thank Dallas.”
“He just wanted us to stop fucking where people could see us.” She smiled and ran her finger down his cheek. “Something about free shows being a shameful waste…”
“Liar.” The doorknob clicked, and he pushed through into her dressing room and kicked the door shut behind them.
The space was surprisingly roomy, with places for all of Trix’s costumes, a couch and a couple of chairs, a huge dressing table, and even an attached bathroom. As one of the O’Kane headliners, Trix had one of the best suites—because when Dallas O’Kane spent money on his people, he didn’t skimp.
Finn couldn’t help but appreciate the man’s priorities as he sank to the couch with a naked Trix straddling his cock.
“Mmm, don’t distract me.” She placed a finger over his lips. “Costume.”
She squinted at him. “Don’t tell me you forgot Nessa’s party. Finn, it’s Halloween.”
“Ah, shit.” He had forgotten—mostly because he’d wanted to forget. He’d do damn near anything for Nessa—and literally anything for Trix—but putting on a silly costume was a lot to ask.
Especially when Trix was naked in his lap.
He slid his hands up her hips and teased his thumbs over the soft skin just beneath her breasts. “We could be late.”
“We could be…” She trailed off with a shiver. “If you’ll wear it.”
The first time the idea of costumes had come up, he’d evaded it. The second time, he’d nodded vaguely without really listening. So she’d gotten the costume. And it made her so fucking happy that he knew he’d end up wearing it, even if he looked ridiculous.
But the longer they spent here, naked, the less time he had to spend at Nessa’s party, dressed up like a damn pirate.
“I’ll wear it,” he murmured, bringing his hands up to cup her full breasts. Her nipples drew to tight points beneath his palms, and he smiled. “After you help me get undressed.”
She pretended to consider that, tilting her head back and squinching up her face in a thoughtful expression even as her hands slipped under his shirt and vest. “Acceptable.”
Touching her was good, but having her touch him was magic. His body was hard and tough, with too many scars and too many rough edges. But her fingers slid over his skin, soft and warm, neither avoiding his scars nor lingering on them. Heat kindled everywhere she touched him, a slow burn he would never stop craving.
He’d given up a lot of vices in his day, but Trix was the one addiction ke knew he’d never quit.
She unbuttoned his vest slowly, then slid the leather off his shoulders. “You know what pirates do, right?”
He leaned forward far enough for her to strip away the vest. “Something with boats?”
“They pillage.” Her nails scraped his skin as she drew his shirt up. “They plunder.” She hauled the cotton over his head and tossed it over her shoulder. “They ravish.”
The husky edge of longing in her voice made her desire clear—and, all of a sudden, the pirate thing didn’t seem so bad. He let himself sink into the fantasy, shifting his hands until he could flick her nipples. “Is that what you want tonight, Trix? A pirate?”
She sucked in a breath and leaned closer, close enough to lick his lower lip. “I want my pirate.”
He was always hers. Her fighter, her lover, her monster, her criminal. Her hero, maybe, finally.
And, tonight, her pirate.
He surged to his feet with her in his arms and twisted to deposit her on the couch. Before she could catch her breath, he sank to his knees between her thighs and forced them wide. “Then I’m going to pillage. Until you beg me to stop.”
Laughing, she pulled his hair. Hard. “Good luck with that.”
Instead of answering, he curled his fingers under the soft flesh of her thighs and jerked her hips to the edge of the couch. She was wet already, so hot that he could have pulled his dick out of his jeans and plunged all the way into her welcoming heat.
But that wasn’t how he wanted to ravish her.
Her fingers were still tangled in his hair as he dipped his head and dragged his tongue over her clit. She made a high, shocked noise in the back of her throat, followed by a shaky exhale that turned into a low moan.
Her moans were music. He lived to earn them, along with the gasp that came when he used his thumbs to spread her wide, and her shudders when he took his time licking her, savoring her taste and the way she opened for him.
Trix lifted her legs over his shoulders. She hadn’t taken off her shoes, and the heels scraped his back with every shudder. The slight pain only enhanced his arousal, just like the jerky way she started pulling his hair as her hips lifted, chasing his mouth where she needed it most.
Some nights, he would have held back. Teased. Coaxed her to the edge only to pull her back, again and again. He could spend all fucking night between her thighs, fucking her pussy with his tongue and loving every second of it.
But she wanted a pirate. She wanted to be pillaged and plundered.
Sliding his hands up to her hips, he gripped them roughly, holding her in place. Then he centered his mouth directly over her clit, lashing it with his tongue in a swift, ruthless rhythm.
Her hips bucked, her nails bit into his scalp, and her chest heaved as her panting breaths turned into something far more frantic. But the only sound she made was his name, a single syllable squeezed out between those desperate lungfuls of air.
That was his favorite sound of all.
She was close, teetering on the edge. He could bring her there with his tongue. But he shifted one hand down instead, running the backs of his fingers up her slick inner thigh without taking his mouth from her.
Two of his broad fingers was a lot to start with, but she was hot, and she was ready, and he groaned against her clit as he worked them inside the clasping heat of her pussy.
She went rigid as she clenched around his fingers, then whispered the only word that could move him as deeply as the sound of his name on her lips. “Please.”
He gave her what she needed. What she wanted. He always would. A firm touch with his tongue, rhythmic and steady. Deep thrusts of his fingers. Just the right combination of both to send her spinning over the edge—not just into a single screaming orgasm, but into a cascade of them, one that didn’t stop until she was panting, incoherent, her thighs trembling on his shoulders and one heel digging insistently into his back.
Only then did he upend them again. They’d only had the couch for a week, and they’d already fucked on it twice—both times with her straddling his lap, giving him unrestricted access to her glorious tits as she rocked and moaned her way to multiple orgasms.
Finn was a big fan of watching her face while she came, but tonight… Tonight he was a pirate. A pillaging, plundering pirate.
So he flipped her onto her knees, across the armrest, and slid a soothing hand down her spine as he used the other to unbuckle his belt. “How thoroughly do you want to be ravished?”
“Yes.” She reached back, caught the end of his belt and yanked it free. “Now.”
Answer enough. He yanked open the button on his jeans and damn near ripped the zipper. Trix’s full, perfect ass was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. Kneeling behind her, he had to take a moment just to run his hands over the curve of her hip and caress all that smooth, soft skin. “You’re better than any treasure.”
“I meant to tell you…” She arched under his hands. “In my fantasy, the pirate definitely gets the girl.”
Sometimes he still couldn’t believe he had. That Trix was his. That he got to touch her, he got to grip her hips. He got to work his cock into her, one blindingly blissful inch at a time, and listen to her breathless moans as he sank so deep she was all he could feel.
He couldn’t believe he got to slide his hand into her wild, untamed red hair and curl the strands around his fingers and pull her head back until her throat was right there, begging for his mouth, his lips.
He couldn’t believe he got to fuck her. And he couldn’t believe how much she loved it.
But she did. She told him with every moan and sigh, showed him with each helpless, fevered reaction. No one else had ever touched her like this, and no one else ever would. They could fuck their way through an entire O’Kane party and it wouldn’t be this.
Him and Trix. Together, in spite of everything the world had thrown at them.
When they were like this, her skin soft and warm against his, her panting breaths falling against his throat, her body clasping his dick so tight it was all he could do to hold on—when he was deep inside her, driving her toward release, Finn believed in fate and destiny and all the rainbows and sunshine the O’Kanes peddled.
He believed in love. Because fuck knew he loved the woman whimpering beneath him.
He tightened his grip in her hair and craned her head back so he could taste her lips. “Come on,” he groaned as he thrust into her again. “I’ve got the girl. I’ve got you. So come for me.”
It wasn’t sweet. They weren’t sweet. But nothing had ever been more real than her choked cry of surrender, or the relieved moan that followed. He swallowed them both as she shuddered beneath him, her pussy drawing him deeper with every pulse of release.
No point in trying to hold back. He’d never been able to resist her. Finn rode her orgasms, driving into her until the edges of the world faded away and pleasure roared through him, the most blissful high he’d ever known.
He barely had the presence of mind to keep from collapsing on her. He lifted her instead, falling back on the couch with her sprawled across his chest. Her disheveled hair spilled across his face, a bright red tumble of curls that smelled like her shampoo, and he turned his face into it with a groan. “Damn.”
She laughed breathlessly as her fingernails dragged over the midnight blue velvet surface of the sofa. “Maybe we should have gone for the leather.”
“Easier to clean,” Finn agreed, wrapping his arms around her. “But my back would be sticking to the leather right now. This velvet feels pretty nice.”
“True…” The word melted into a groan. “But we have to get up. I need time to do your makeup.”
Finn froze. “My what?”
“Uh-huh.” She twisted in his arms until she was peering down at him, and she traced her fingers over his face. “Not much, just a little smudgy eyeliner. Will you let me braid your beard?”
It sounded ridiculous. It sounded a little embarrassing. Nessa would be documenting everything with her new camera, which meant he’d be immortalized in his goofy costume with his smudged eyeliner and braided beard.
But Trix was smiling down at him, her eyes bright, her lips soft and tempting—and her tits were rubbing against his chest, making him wonder how fast he could recover for a second round. “Fine. On one condition.”
“No lipstick,” she promised. “And not a hint of rouge.”
“I’ll wear whatever you put on me,” he countered, sliding his hands down to cup her ass. “But when the party’s over, you’re going home over my shoulder, and I get to take my time ravishing you.”
“Oh, Finn.” She kissed him lightly, her eyes shining with amusement and joy. “That part of the evening? Is an absolute fucking certainty.”
So much of his life he’d spent just waiting to die. And then, the last few years, fighting to live. There was something magical about having the luxury to stretch out on a couch and laugh. To dress up in stupid costumes and go to a party. To make plans for sex and love and laughter instead of war and battle and death.
Maybe he was finally a true believer in all of Dallas O’Kane’s rainbow sparkle bullshit.
“Trix,” he murmured, sliding his fingers into her hair to pull her down for a deeper kiss. “Have your way with me.”