Pretty in Pink
With McKenna Grace
Written by TheLW
Codes: MF, Oral
Disclaimer: This FICTIONAL story was written for entertainment purposes only.
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The lights of the Dolby Theatre had finally dimmed on the 98th Annual Academy Awards, but the night still hummed with that electric afterglow of cameras, and applause. I’d been there as a guest, nothing glamorous, just a plus-one for a producer friend who’d dragged me along for the event, and I hadn’t expected much beyond a few good speeches and an overpriced dinner. Then I saw her.
McKenna Grace stood near the edge of the red carpet exit in that floor-length pink satin gown, the one that caught every flash like it was made of liquid rose gold. The bodice hugged her like a second skin, the deep scoop neckline framing the soft swell of her breasts, while the corseted waist flared out into layers of pleated fabric that swayed with every small shift of her weight. Her blonde hair was swept up in a loose, elegant updo, a few strands framing her face, and that diamond necklace, delicate yet dazzling, drew my eyes straight to the elegant line of her throat. She looked like a dream someone had painted just to ruin me. I’d seen her on screen plenty of times, but nothing prepared me for the real thing, the confidence in her posture, the way her fingers lightly gathered the skirt of her gown as she posed for one last photographer, her lips curved in a small, knowing smile.
I wasn’t trying to approach her. I really wasn’t. But the crowd funneled us toward the same side exit, and when a security guard accidentally bumped her elbow, her clutch slipped. It hit the carpet at my feet. I bent down before I could think twice, picked it up, and handed it back to her.
“Here,” I said, voice steady even though my pulse wasn’t. “You dropped this.”
She turned those blue eyes on me, sharp, amused, a little tired from the long night, and took the clutch. “Thanks. Saved me from chasing it across the pavement in these heels.” Her voice was softer than I expected, a little husky from all the interviews. She glanced at my tux, then back up to my face. “You look like you’ve had enough of the spotlight too.”
I laughed under my breath. “Just a guest. Not even nominated for anything except maybe ‘best plus-one who doesn’t know how to tie a bow tie properly.’”
She smiled wider, and something shifted in the air between us. “Well, you’re doing better than half the guys in here. I’m McKenna, by the way.”
“I know,” I said before I could stop myself. Then I winced. “Sorry. That sounded creepy. I’m Eric.”
McKenna tilted her head, studying me for a second. “Not creepy. Honest. Most people pretend they don’t recognize me. Makes the night feel longer.” She glanced around at the thinning crowd, the lingering paparazzi flashes still popping in the distance. “Are you sticking around for the after-parties, or are you one of those smart ones who bails early?”
“I’ve got a suite at the Peninsula,” I told her. “Figured I’d head back, order room service, and pretend I didn’t just watch half the industry cry on stage.”
“Room service sounds better than another hour of small talk. Mind if I tag along? My driver’s running late, and I’m starving for something that isn’t a tiny canapé.”
I blinked. “Yeah. Absolutely.”
We slipped out together through a side door the security team opened for her. The black SUV she’d waved over wasn’t hers after all, it was a shared ride the Academy had arranged, but she didn’t seem to care. In the back seat, the city lights slid across her face as she kicked off her heels with a sigh of relief. The gown pooled around her legs like spilled silk. We talked easily, about the awards, about how surreal it felt to be in a room with legends, about the ridiculous dress code that made breathing optional. She asked where I was from, and I told her about the cold winters and the way the sky looked endless back home. She listened like she actually cared, her knee brushing mine, sending a spark up my spine.
By the time we pulled up to the hotel, the tension had thickened into something undeniable. The doorman didn’t bat an eye at the two of us walking in together, her bare feet silent on the marble floor, gown whispering with every step. In the elevator, she leaned against the wall, eyes half-lidded, and said quietly, “I don’t usually do this. But tonight... I don’t want the night to end yet.”
My suite was on the top floor, spacious, modern, with a view of the glowing Los Angeles skyline. The moment the door closed shut behind us, she turned to me. The air felt charged, heavy. She stepped close enough that I could smell the faint floral scent of her perfume mixed with the warmth of her skin. “Eric,” she said, my name soft on her lips. “Kiss me.”
I did. Slow at first, testing, then deeper when she sighed into my mouth and pressed herself against me. Her hands slid up my chest, fingers curling into the lapels of my tux jacket. I pulled her closer, one hand at the small of her back, the other cupping the back of her neck where stray hairs tickled my palm. The kiss turned hungry, tongues sliding, breaths mingling. She tasted like champagne and something sweeter, something just her.
We didn’t rush to the bedroom. We stumbled there, still kissing, her gown making soft rustling sounds as it dragged across the carpet. I backed her toward the king-sized bed until her thighs hit the edge. She sat, looking up at me with flushed cheeks and parted lips. “Help me with this dress?” she whispered.
I sank to my knees in front of her instead. The gown was a masterpiece of engineering, hooks and hidden zippers, but I took my time, sliding the satin down her shoulders, revealing inch after inch of smooth, warm skin. The necklace stayed on, the diamonds glittered against her collarbones as the fabric pooled at her waist. Her breasts spilled free, full and perfect, nipples already tight. I leaned in and kissed the valley between them, then lower, trailing my mouth down the soft curve of her stomach as I worked the gown the rest of the way off. She lifted her hips to help, and soon the dress lay in a pink heap on the floor beside her discarded heels.
McKenna was left in nothing but the diamond necklace, a tiny lace thong, and the faint sheen of lotion on her legs. I hooked my fingers into the sides of the thong and peeled it down slowly, savoring the way her breath hitched. When it was gone, she was bare to me, smooth, glistening, her thighs parting just enough to invite me closer.
I looked up at her. “I want to taste you,” I said, voice rough.
Her eyes darkened. “Please.”
I pressed my hands to the insides of McKenna's thighs, spreading her wider, and lowered my mouth to her. The first lick dragged from the bottom of her slit all the way up to her clit, and she gasped, fingers threading into my hair. She was warm, slick, the taste of her flooding my tongue, sweet and heady. I took my time, exploring every fold, circling her sensitive area with the flat side of my tongue before sucking it gently between my lips. Her hips rolled against my face, soft moans spilling out of her as I licked deeper, firmer.
“God, yes,” she breathed, head falling back. “Just like that.”
I slid my arms under her thighs, hooking them over my shoulders so I could bury myself completely. My tongue plunged inside her, fucking her in slow, deliberate strokes while my nose brushed her clit. She tasted even better like this, hot and wet, her arousal coating my chin. I groaned against her, the vibration making her shudder. I switched to long, broad licks again, then focused on her snatch with tight, rhythmic circles, sucking and flicking until her thighs started to tremble around my head.
McKenna's fingers tightened in my hair, pulling just hard enough to sting. “Don’t stop, fuck, I’m so close already.” Her voice cracked on the last word. I doubled down, sucking her clit hard while my tongue flicked fast and steady. She came with a sharp moan, back arching off the bed, hips grinding against my mouth as waves of pleasure rolled through her. I didn’t pull away. I kept licking her through it, drawing out every last shudder until she was panting, chest heaving, the diamonds on her necklace catching the low light with every breath.
When McKenna's grip in my hair loosened, I kissed the inside of each thigh, then rose up between her legs. My cock was straining against my tux pants, aching. She looked wrecked in the best way, flushed, lips swollen from kissing, eyes glassy with satisfaction.
I stripped quickly, shedding the jacket, shirt, pants, until I was as bare as she was. McKenna watched me, biting her lower lip, one hand trailing down her own stomach. I climbed onto the bed, settling between her thighs again. The head of my cock nudged against her soaked entrance, and she nodded, whispering, “Yes. Now.”
I pushed inside her in one deep thrust. She was tight, hot, still pulsating from her orgasm. The feeling of her inner walls gripping me made my vision blur for a second. I stayed there, buried to the hilt, letting her adjust, letting myself feel every inch of her. Then I started to move, with long, steady strokes that dragged against every sensitive spot inside her. She wrapped her legs around my waist, heels digging into the small of my back, pulling me deeper.
“Harder,” she gasped. “I want to feel you.”
I gave it to her. The pace quickened, the sound of skin meeting skin filling the room along with her moans and my low groans. I braced one hand beside her head, the other sliding under her ass to tilt her hips up, hitting a new angle that made her cry out every time I drove in. The necklace bounced against her chest with each thrust, diamonds flashing. Her breasts moved in time with my rhythm, nipples brushing my chest when I leaned down to kiss her again, this time with messy, desperate kisses that tasted like her and like me.
We fucked like that for what felt like hours but was probably only minutes, deep, relentless, the kind of sex that erases everything else. She came again, clenching around me so tightly I had to fight not to follow her over the edge right then. I slowed just enough to let her ride it out, then picked up the pace again, chasing my own release.
When it hit me, it was shattering. I buried myself as deep as I could go and came hard, groaning her name against her neck. She held me through it, nails lightly scratching down my back, whispering soft encouragement until the last throb faded.
We stayed like that, me still inside her, her legs loosely wrapped around me, both of us catching our breath. Eventually I pulled out and collapsed beside her, pulling her into my arms. She curled against my chest, one leg thrown over mine, the pink satin of her abandoned gown somewhere on the floor like a forgotten promise.
The city lights shined outside the window, but the only thing that mattered was the steady beat of her heart against mine.
“Best after-party I’ve ever been to,” she murmured, smiling against me.
I pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “Same. And the night’s still young.”
We didn’t sleep much after that. But the rest of it... well, that’s another story for another night.
The End