A Life in Hollywood Ch.15 - Daisy Ridley and Taylor Swift (Patreon)

A Life in Hollywood

Chapter 15 - Daisy Ridley and Taylor Swift

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October 2014, Los Angeles

Osiah lay flat on his back in the king bed of his rented apartment, arms bent, hands laced behind his head. The morning light filtering through the blinds painted pale stripes across the ceiling. Between his spread thighs, Daisy Ridley’s head bobbed steadily, her lips stretched tight around his cock. She was completely naked, knees tucked under her, the smooth curve of her back arching slightly as she worked.

Daisy had a lean, athletic build—small but firm tits with soft pink nipples, a narrow waist that flared into surprisingly full hips, and a tight, rounded ass that flexed every time she shifted her weight. Her skin was pale and smooth, still carrying a faint tan line from some recent outdoor shoot. A few freckles dotted her shoulders. Right now her dark hair was messy, falling across her face as she took him deeper, one small hand wrapped around the thick base while the other rested on his hip for balance.

She’d shown up twenty minutes earlier with two coffees and a shy, excited smile, still buzzing from the Star Wars audition news that had the whole town whispering. One thing led to another fast. Clothes came off, and now her warm, wet mouth was working him with focused enthusiasm.

Her tongue swirled around the head on every slow upstroke, teasing the sensitive underside before she sank back down. Soft, rhythmic slurps filled the quiet room, mixed with the occasional quiet gluck when she took him especially deep and her throat fluttered around him. Strings of spit ran down his shaft and over her fingers. Whenever she pulled back for air, her eyes flicked up to meet his—brown, bright, a little watery but full of playful heat.

Osiah’s abs tightened as she hollowed her cheeks and sucked harder. “Fuck, Daisy… just like that.”

She hummed around him, the vibration shooting straight down his cock. Her free hand slid up his thigh, nails lightly scratching, then back down again as she bobbed faster. The wet sounds grew louder, messier. Her small tits swayed gently with the motion, nipples hard from the cool morning air and her own arousal.

His phone buzzed on the nightstand. Osiah glanced over. Taylor Swift.

He answered without moving his hands from behind his head. “Hey.”

Taylor’s voice came through bright and a little breathless, like she was walking fast between buildings or rushing down a hallway. “Osiah. Hi. You busy right now?”

Daisy didn’t stop. If anything she slowed down deliberately, taking him deeper into her throat with a quiet, wet gluck. Her tongue pressed flat along the underside as she held him there for a long second, throat fluttering softly around his cock.

“Not really,” Osiah said, voice perfectly steady. “What’s up?”

Taylor let out that easy, familiar laugh he’d already heard on a dozen morning shows this week. “I’m in LA doing the whole radio circus. Good Morning America this morning—they had me doing that segment where I had to guess celebrity baby photos while trying not to spill coffee everywhere. Then a bunch of afternoon spots. Jimmy Kimmel tonight, I think. I’m dying. My feet are killing me from these heels they keep making me wear, and my voice is starting to go from talking nonstop. Any chance you’re free for dinner tonight? Just us. I need one normal meal that isn’t scheduled or photographed or turned into a headline.”

Daisy hollowed her cheeks again and sucked harder, her hand twisting gently around the base in a slow corkscrew motion. Osiah’s abs flexed visibly, a sharp twitch running through his stomach, but his tone stayed even.

“Yeah, I can do dinner. Where?”

“Somewhere low-key? I’m staying at the Chateau Marmont. I can have them set something up in the bungalow if you want it private. Or we can go out somewhere quiet. Your call.”

Osiah felt Daisy’s throat flutter and squeeze around him as she held him deep for another long second, her nose brushing his stomach. He exhaled slowly through his nose, keeping his breathing controlled.

“Bungalow sounds good. Eight o’clock work?”

“Perfect.” Taylor sounded genuinely relieved, a smile clear in her voice. “God, thank you. I’ve done like a billion appearances in the last four days. Radio rows where every DJ asks the same three questions, teaser performances at a couple small clubs to test the new songs—last night I did this tiny venue in Silver Lake and someone in the front row tried to hand me a marriage proposal written on a napkin mid-song. I almost cracked up right there on stage. Photo shoots where they keep changing my outfits every five minutes because nothing photographs ‘pop enough.’ I’m starting to sound like a robot on autopilot. It’ll be nice to talk to someone who doesn’t want a quote or a selfie or to ask me for the hundredth time if the album is really a full pop shift.”

Daisy pulled off just long enough to catch her breath. Thick strings of spit connected her swollen lips to his glistening cock. She stroked him slowly with both hands now, twisting gently, thumb brushing over the head to spread her spit. She looked up at him with a small, amused smile, eyes sparkling with mischief as she listened to the one-sided conversation.

“You must have done a billion appearances right now,” Osiah said into the phone, repeating her words back with a little grin in his voice.

Taylor laughed again, louder this time, warm and genuine. “Exactly. You get it. The 1989 teasers have been nonstop. Little club shows where I play a couple new tracks and the crowd loses their minds because they’ve never heard them before. Radio stations wanting the full story on leaving country behind—like, yes, I wrote these songs on a guitar in my kitchen and now they sound like this, deal with it. Morning TV where they make me do those cheesy segments. This morning on GMA they had me guessing baby photos of celebrities and I completely blanked on one of them. I said it was Ryan Gosling as a kid and it was actually Justin Timberlake. The hosts wouldn’t let it go. I wanted to crawl under the desk. My legs are sore from all the stage running around in heels, and I swear my smile muscles are exhausted. Anyway, eight o’clock. I’ll text you the bungalow number.”

“See you then.”

He hung up. Daisy immediately sank back down, taking him all the way to the root in one smooth motion. Her nose pressed against his stomach, throat working around him with tight, rhythmic squeezes.

“Fuck,” Osiah muttered, one hand finally dropping to rest on the back of her head, fingers threading through her messy hair. “That was Taylor Swift.”

Daisy made a soft, affirmative hum around his cock. The vibration shot straight through him, making his hips twitch. She started moving faster, head bobbing with clear purpose now, wet sounds getting louder and messier—obscene slurps and quiet gags as she pushed herself. Her small tits swayed and bounced lightly with the rhythm, nipples tight. Spit ran down his shaft and over her fingers, dripping onto his balls.

Osiah’s grip tightened gently in her hair, not forcing her, just guiding. “Shit, Daisy… keep going.”

She did, hollowing her cheeks on the upstroke, tongue swirling around the head before plunging back down. Her free hand cupped his balls, massaging them softly while she sucked. The room filled with the slick, rhythmic sounds of her mouth and throat working him—wet pops when she pulled back for air, greedy little hums when she took him deep again.

Osiah’s breathing grew heavier. “You’re too good at that.”

Daisy pulled off for a second, stroking him fast with both hands, lips shiny and swollen. “Taylor Swift, huh?” she teased, voice a little raspy. “Big plans tonight?”

“Something like that.” He grinned down at her. “Don’t stop.”

She laughed softly and sank back down, taking him even deeper this time. Her throat fluttered and squeezed as she held him there, eyes watering but locked on his. Osiah groaned low, hips twitching up. Daisy took it, swallowing around him, then started bobbing again with renewed energy.

The blowjob turned filthier—long, sloppy strokes, her tongue flat and pressing, spit everywhere. She moaned around him, the vibrations pushing him closer. Osiah’s hand stayed in her hair, thumb brushing her cheek.

He hung up. Daisy immediately sank back down, taking him all the way to the root in one smooth motion. Her nose pressed against his stomach, throat working around him.

“Fuck,” Osiah muttered, one hand finally dropping to rest on the back of her head, fingers threading through her hair. “That was Taylor Swift.”

Daisy made a soft, affirmative hum around his cock. The vibration shot straight through him. She started moving faster, head bobbing with clear purpose now, wet sounds getting louder and messier—obscene slurps and gags as she pushed herself. Her small tits swayed and bounced lightly with the rhythm. Spit ran down his balls and dripped onto the sheets.

Osiah’s hips twitched up once, twice. “Shit, Daisy… I’m close.”

She didn’t pull off. Instead she took him even deeper, throat squeezing rhythmically, eyes watering but locked on his the whole time. One hand cupped his balls gently, massaging them as she sucked. Osiah groaned low and came hard, thick spurts pulsing straight down her throat. Daisy swallowed every drop without hesitation, then kept him in her mouth, sucking gently through the aftershocks. Her tongue moved lazy and affectionate along the underside, milking the last little pulses.

When he finally softened she let him slip free with a wet pop. A thin string of spit still connected her lower lip to the head of his cock. She rested her cheek against his thigh, breathing hard, and pumped his spent shaft slowly with one hand. Soft, lingering kisses pressed along the length, from base to tip.

Osiah ran his fingers through her messy hair, brushing it back from her face. “Who knew when me and Emilia Clarke saw you at that restaurant you’d actually audition and get the Star Wars role.”

Daisy giggled, the sound warm and a little hoarse from the throat fucking. She nuzzled closer, still slowly stroking him with lazy affection, pressing another kiss just below the head. “That encounter with you two was a good omen, really. I was so nervous that night. I remember walking in and seeing you guys at the table and thinking, ‘Okay, don’t trip over your own feet in front of actual working actors.’ You both made me feel like I wasn’t completely insane for believing I could do it. Emilia was so sweet, and you just… talked to me like a normal person. No weird Hollywood bullshit. It stuck with me.”

She gave the head one last gentle, lingering kiss, tongue flicking out playfully, then pushed herself up onto her knees. Her body looked even better in the morning light—lean muscle under soft curves, small tits flushed pink, nipples still tight. A faint sheen of sweat glowed on her collarbone and between her breasts.

“I should get going,” she said reluctantly, climbing off the bed. “Early call time today. They’ve got me doing more movement stuff for the role.”

They padded into the bathroom together. Daisy rinsed her mouth at the sink, then splashed water on her face. Osiah stood behind her, hands on her hips, watching her in the mirror while he splashed his own face. She leaned back against him for a moment, ass pressing lightly against his softening cock, and smiled at their reflection.

“Last night was fun,” she said quietly. “And this morning too. Thanks for… letting me come over.”

“Anytime,” he replied, giving her ass a light squeeze.

Daisy turned, rose up on her toes, and gave him a quick, sweet kiss—soft and affectionate, no pressure. She tasted faintly of toothpaste now. “I’ll text you later if I survive the day.”

She pulled on her clothes—simple jeans and a loose sweater that still somehow looked good on her frame—grabbed her bag, and headed for the door. At the threshold she paused, looked back with a little wave and that same shy-excited smile from earlier, then slipped out.

Osiah stood there for a second after the door clicked shut, the apartment suddenly quieter. Daisy’s vanilla scent and the faint smell of sex still lingered in the air. He sat on the edge of the bed, still naked, and scrolled through his phone. A couple of calls to make before the day really started. He dialed Jeremy Slater first.

Jeremy picked up on the second ring. “Osiah Morse. Been a minute, man. How the hell are you?”

“Yeah, man. How you doing?” Osiah leaned back on one hand, stretching his legs out. “Surviving the machine?”

Jeremy laughed, that familiar dry chuckle from their old workshop days. “Barely. I’m hearing your name popping up in some bigger circles lately. You’re 2nd 2nd AD on the new Avengers now? That’s a solid jump. Last time we talked you were still wrangling background on smaller stuff. Congrats.”

“Thanks. It’s been a grind, but it feels good. Keeps me busy. How about you? Still writing, or you finally crossed over to directing full time?”

“Both, actually. Writing’s still the main thing, but I got the gig directing The Lazarus Effect. Small horror thriller. Tight budget, tighter schedule, but it’s got real potential. Olivia Wilde and Mark Duplass are attached. We’re shooting a lot of it in this creepy abandoned hospital outside Atlanta. Real location, no stages. Should be fun if we don’t all lose our minds.”

Osiah smiled. “Sounds like your kind of thing. You always liked the gritty, practical stuff.”

“Exactly. Which brings me to why I called. I need a solid 2nd AD. Someone who can keep the background from eating the frame, handle the extras without turning every reset into a circus, and not lose their shit when we’re shooting night exteriors in an actual abandoned hospital at 3 a.m. with fake blood everywhere and the power flickering. You interested?”

Osiah sat up a little straighter. “Yeah, I’m interested. Tell me more about the schedule.”

Jeremy launched into it. “We start principal photography in about six weeks. Four weeks in Atlanta, some pickups in LA later. It’s not a huge crew, so the 2nd AD has to be hands-on. You’d be running background, coordinating with the AD team, making sure the extras sell the panic without staring at the camera. We’ve got some big night sequences—power outages, medical chaos, the works. I remember how calm you stayed during those nightmare night shoots back in the workshop shorts. That’s what I need.”

They spent the next few minutes going deeper. Jeremy described the tone—claustrophobic horror with real emotional stakes, not just jump scares. He talked about the location shoots, the practical effects, how they were leaning into practical blood and real hospital corridors instead of heavy CGI. Osiah asked about the crew size, the daily pages, how much improvisation they were allowing the actors.

“Pages are tight, but we’re giving the leads some room to play,” Jeremy said. “You’d be working directly under the 1st AD, but with the scale we’re at, you’ll have real input. No bullshit hierarchy. Plus, we’ve got some solid mutual friends on the crew already—couple guys from the old USC circle. It’d be like old times, except with actual money and better catering.”

Osiah chuckled. “Better catering would be nice. Avengers craft services is good, but nothing beats knowing the director from writing bad horror shorts at 2 a.m. in a classroom.”

“Exactly. Look, I know you’re locked into Marvel for a bit. But if the dates line up even partially, I want you. Your name’s been coming up a lot lately—people say you keep the machine running smooth without yelling. That’s rare.”

“I’m in LA for the next few weeks on Avengers, wrapping some big sequences,” Osiah said. “Send me the full details—schedule, rate, sides if you’ve got them. I’ll talk to my agent and see what we can shift. If it overlaps too much I might only be able to do part of it, but I’d love to make it work.”

“Will do. I’ll email everything over today. Good talking to you, man. Been too long.”

“Same. Take care.”

They hung up. Osiah made one more quick call to his agent, relaying the offer and asking her to look at the conflicts with his current Marvel commitment. The conversation was short and professional—she promised to get the breakdown by end of day and loop back with notes on negotiating the rate.

By the time he hung up, the morning light had shifted across the room. Osiah stood up, stretched his arms overhead until his back popped, then headed into the bathroom. He splashed cold water on his face, brushed his teeth, and took a quick shower, letting the hot water wake him up fully. Daisy’s visit and Taylor’s call already had the day feeling layered—work, connections, and whatever tonight with Taylor would turn into.

Dressed in jeans and a simple black crewneck, he grabbed his keys and headset, ready to head to set. The apartment felt quiet again, but in a good way. Another day in the machine.

***

The Chateau Marmont bungalow was quiet when Osiah arrived a few minutes after eight. A private table had been set up on the small patio overlooking the garden—soft candles flickering in glass holders, a bottle of good red wine already open and breathing, no waitstaff hovering. The air smelled like night-blooming jasmine and warm stone. Taylor stood up when he walked in.

She looked incredible.

The dress was simple but dangerous: a tight black slip that ended mid-thigh, thin straps over her shoulders, the fabric hugging the full swell of her tits and the dramatic curve of her waist before flaring just enough over her hips. Her long legs looked even longer in strappy heels. Her blonde hair was down in loose waves, and she wasn’t wearing much makeup—just enough to make her blue eyes pop. When she turned to grab the wine bottle, the dress clung to the round, firm shape of her ass like it had been poured on.

“Hi,” she said, smiling wide and genuine as she pulled him into a quick hug. She smelled like vanilla and something warm and expensive, her body soft and warm against his for that brief second. “Thanks for coming. I needed this.”

They sat. The conversation started easy. Taylor poured them both wine, the deep red catching the candlelight, and took a long sip.

“I swear I’ve done like twenty interviews today alone,” she said, leaning back in her chair with a tired but amused sigh. “Everyone wants to know if the album is really a full pop shift. Like, yes. It is. I wrote it that way on purpose. I stayed up until four in the morning in my kitchen with a guitar and a notebook, figuring out exactly how I wanted these songs to sound. I had this whole vision—bright, bold, unapologetic. And now every interviewer acts like I’m betraying some sacred country oath. One guy today literally asked if my parents were disappointed. I almost laughed in his face.”

Osiah nodded, taking a sip of his own wine. It was smooth, a little earthy. “It’s the right move. Country was great for what it was, but you’ve outgrown it. 1989 sounds like you. The real you. Not the version the label wanted five years ago when they were still trying to keep you in the same box.”

Taylor’s smile softened, genuine and a little relieved. “Thank you. That means a lot coming from someone who’s not just saying what they think I want to hear. A lot of people are… skeptical. My dad still thinks I’m making a huge mistake. He keeps texting me articles about how pop careers crash and burn faster than country ones. ‘Look at what happened to so-and-so,’ he says. My mom’s more supportive, but even she’s nervous about the optics—like, will the fans who grew up with me stick around? But it feels right. Scary, but right. Like I’m finally saying what I actually want to say instead of what people expect. I wrote ‘Shake It Off’ after one too many tabloid weeks where everything I did was picked apart. It was my way of laughing at it.”

They talked through the first course—some simple grilled fish and vegetables that tasted better than anything Osiah had eaten on set in weeks. Taylor asked about his work on Age of Ultron. He gave her the short version at first: background wrangling, keeping hundreds of extras from staring at the camera during the big Sokovian street scenes, making sure the chaos felt real instead of a bunch of people waiting for lunch.

“It’s bigger than the first one,” he said, cutting into his fish. “More moving parts, bigger sets, more pressure from every angle. But the same job at the core—make sure the machine doesn’t grind to a halt because someone steps in the wrong spot or an extra drifts into frame.”

Taylor listened, chin resting on her hand, eyes genuinely interested. “That sounds exhausting but kind of amazing. I’ve done tours, but nothing on that scale with wires and practical explosions and hundreds of people moving at once. Do you ever get to watch the actors do their thing, or are you always running around putting out fires?”

“Both,” Osiah said with a small shrug. “I catch the monitors when I can. Scarlett’s been killing it with the stunts—she throws herself into every take like it’s the only one that matters. Elizabeth too—she’s figuring out Wanda in a way that feels real, like the power actually costs her something. It’s cool to watch.”

Taylor nodded, then leaned in a little, eyes sparkling with curiosity and something sharper. “So… I heard some things. Not from the usual Hollywood gossip mill. Scarlett mentioned you the other day when we ran into each other at an event. She was pretty… detailed about how you two reconnected on set. And the way she talked about it? Let’s just say it stuck with me.” She laughed, but there was a real edge of jealousy under it, a little flush creeping up her neck. “Is it true? All of it? Or is she just messing with me?”

Osiah took a slow sip of wine, completely unfazed. “It’s true.”

Taylor’s eyebrows went up. She waited for more, twirling the stem of her glass between her fingers. When he didn’t elaborate she let out a short laugh and shook her head, half amused, half something else.

“Wow. Okay. You’re not even gonna try to deny it or give me the polite version.”

“No point. It happened. It’s casual. Nobody gets hurt.”

She studied him for a second, then took another drink, her blue eyes flicking over his face. “Must be nice in a way. I feel like I can’t sneeze without someone writing a thinkpiece about who I’m dating or why I’m single or whether I smiled at the wrong person at an awards show. Meanwhile you’re just… living your life and people like Scarlett are out here dropping hints that make me curious as hell.” She paused, then added with a small, self-deprecating smile, “It stings a little, if I’m honest. Not that I have any claim or anything. Just… hearing it from her made it feel very real.”

The conversation moved on naturally as the plates were cleared and dessert arrived—some rich chocolate thing that Taylor only picked at, pushing pieces around with her fork. She talked more about her schedule, the upcoming teaser performances that were ramping up.

“New York in a couple weeks,” she said. “Small club show to test a few more tracks from the album. Then London—same thing, but with a little more press. Tokyo after that before the full 1989 tour kicks off properly next year. I’m excited but already exhausted thinking about it. Jet lag is going to destroy me. Different stages every night, figuring out how to make the new songs feel big in arenas when I’ve only played them in tiny clubs so far. Last week in that Silver Lake place someone yelled ‘Marry me!’ right in the middle of ‘Blank Space’ and I almost forgot the next line. Had to laugh it off on stage while my brain short-circuited. The crowd ate it up, though.”

Osiah chuckled. “Sounds about right for this town. At least they’re enthusiastic.”

“Yeah. And the interviews never stop. Everyone wants the story behind every song. ‘Shake It Off’ is fun and empowering on the surface, but they keep asking if it’s about specific exes. Like, no, it’s about shaking off all the noise—the critics, the tabloids, the expectations. But try explaining that without sounding like a press release.” She took another sip of wine, her foot accidentally brushing his under the table and lingering this time. “What about you? Any wild set stories from Avengers that aren’t top secret? I could use something that doesn’t involve me talking about myself for once.”

He shared a couple—nothing classified, just the usual chaos of practical effects going wrong mid-take, an extra tripping during a big reset and nearly taking out a camera rig, the way the cast kept things light with pranks even when everyone was exhausted from night shoots. Taylor listened, laughing in the right places, asking follow-up questions that showed she was actually paying attention. She told him a few more of her own stories in return—one about a radio host who kept mispronouncing song titles, another about a photo shoot where the wind machine nearly blew her off the platform.

By the time the plates were cleared the wine was mostly gone and the conversation had turned quieter, more personal. Taylor leaned forward, elbows on the table, candlelight catching in her eyes.

“I’m jealous, you know,” she said, half teasing, half serious. “Not just of the Scarlett thing—though yeah, that stings a little hearing it from her directly—but of how free you seem about it all. No one’s waiting to write a headline about your personal life every five minutes or asking your parents for comment. It sounds… simpler.”

Osiah met her eyes. “It’s not as free as it looks. But I keep it separate from the work. Keeps things simpler on my end.”

She nodded slowly, then smiled, softer this time. “Well, tonight feels pretty simple. And I like that.”

The candles had burned lower. Taylor’s foot brushed his again, lingering deliberately. The air between them had shifted—easy conversation giving way to something warmer, heavier, charged with anticipation.

By the time dessert came they were both relaxed, the wine doing its job. Taylor’s hand brushed his on the table more than once. When the plates were cleared she looked at him across the candlelight.

“Ready to head inside?” she asked, voice a little lower, eyes holding his.

Osiah stood. “Yeah.”

The second the door shut behind them their hands were everywhere. Taylor kissed him hard, pressing her body flush against his, the full softness of her tits crushing against his chest through the thin dress. Osiah’s hands slid down her back and grabbed her ass, squeezing the firm, round cheeks. The fabric rode up as he kneaded them, and she moaned into his mouth, pushing her hips forward so her pelvis rubbed against the growing bulge in his pants.

They stumbled toward the bedroom, mouths still locked, barely coming up for air. Taylor’s fingers worked at his shirt buttons, popping them open one by one while he hooked his thumbs under the thin straps of her dress and pulled them down her shoulders. The black slip dropped to her waist in a whisper of fabric, freeing her tits—full, heavy, nipples already tight and dark. He cupped one immediately, thumb brushing back and forth over the stiff peak. Taylor gasped, the sound turning into a low moan when he pinched it gently.

“Fuck, I’ve been thinking about this all week,” she breathed against his lips, her hands shoving his shirt off his shoulders.

Taylor pushed him back onto the big hotel bed. Osiah sat on the edge as she kicked the dress the rest of the way off, leaving her in just a tiny black thong. Her body was long and lean but curved where it counted—full, heavy tits that swayed with every step, narrow waist flaring into wide hips, and a round, firm ass that flexed as she stepped between his knees. The candlelight from the patio spilled in through the open doors, catching on her skin and the subtle sheen of arousal already visible on her inner thighs.

She climbed onto his lap, straddling him, and kissed him again, deeper this time, tongue sliding against his as she ground her hips slowly against the hard line of his cock still trapped in his pants. Osiah’s hands went straight to her tits, squeezing the soft weight, thumbs brushing back and forth over her stiff nipples until she shivered and arched into his touch.

“God, these feel even better than they look,” he muttered against her mouth, rolling both nipples between his fingers.

Taylor laughed breathlessly and rocked her hips harder, the thin thong doing nothing to hide how wet she already was. “You’ve been staring at them all dinner. I could tell. Every time I leaned forward you were looking.”

He pinched both nipples at once, rolling them firmly. She gasped and arched her back sharply, pushing her chest closer to his face. Osiah leaned in and took one nipple into his mouth, sucking hard while his other hand slid down to grip her ass cheek, kneading the firm flesh and spreading her slightly. Taylor’s head fell back, a shaky moan slipping out as she threaded her fingers through his hair and held him there.

“Fuck… yeah, like that. Harder.”

She reached between them and worked his belt open with impatient fingers, shoving his pants and boxers down just enough to free his cock. It sprang up thick and heavy between them, the head already slick. Taylor wrapped her hand around it, stroking slowly from base to tip, spreading the bead of pre-cum that leaked from the head with her thumb.

“Jesus, you’re big,” she whispered, eyes dark with heat as she pumped him a few more times, twisting her wrist on the upstroke. “I’ve been wet since you walked in. Could barely focus during that last radio spot thinking about this.”

She lifted up on her knees, yanked her thong to the side with one hand, and rubbed the swollen head of his cock up and down her soaked pussy lips. The slick heat of her coated him instantly. Taylor bit her lip, eyes half-lidded, then sank down slowly, taking the first few inches with a shaky exhale. Her pussy was tight and scorching hot, gripping him like a velvet fist.

Osiah groaned deep in his chest and gripped her hips, letting her control the pace as she worked herself lower, inch by inch, until her ass rested fully on his thighs and he was buried to the hilt. Taylor let out a long, breathy moan, forehead dropping to his shoulder for a second as she adjusted to the stretch.

“Fuck… you fill me up so much,” she whispered, rolling her hips experimentally. The movement made her tits brush against his chest, nipples dragging over his skin. “Just… give me a second.”

She started riding him in slow, deep rolls of her hips, grinding her clit against his pelvis every time she came down. Her tits swayed heavily right in front of his face, full and soft, nipples stiff and dark. Osiah caught one in his mouth again, sucking hard and flicking his tongue over the peak while his hands guided her ass, squeezing the firm cheeks and helping her move a little faster. The wet, rhythmic sound of her pussy taking every inch mixed with her soft gasps and the quiet creak of the bed beneath them.

Taylor’s head tipped back, mouth open, blonde hair spilling down her back. “Oh my god… right there. Your cock feels so fucking good.”

She picked up the pace, bouncing harder. The wet slap of her ass meeting his thighs grew louder, steadier. Her pussy was soaked, dripping down his shaft and over his balls with every downstroke. Osiah thrust up to meet her, driving deeper, and Taylor’s moans got louder, sharper. Her walls started fluttering around him, tight little pulses that made her thighs tremble.

She came hard a couple minutes later, thighs shaking, nails digging into his shoulders as she ground down and rode it out with little jerks of her hips. “Fuck—yes—” Her pussy clamped down in strong, rhythmic waves, a fresh rush of wetness coating him.

She didn’t stop moving. Instead she leaned back, hands braced on his knees, and fucked him faster, tits bouncing wildly now, nipples tracing little circles in the air. Osiah watched them, mesmerized, hands gripping her ass tight enough to leave faint marks on the pale skin.

“Again,” he told her, voice rough. “Cum on my cock again.”

Taylor’s eyes squeezed shut. “I’m gonna—fuck—”

She came a second time, harder, pussy clamping down on him in strong pulses that milked his shaft. A warm gush of wetness coated his balls and thighs. She kept riding through it, slower now, catching her breath, tits still swaying heavily with every lazy roll of her hips. Her cheeks were flushed, lips parted, eyes glassy with pleasure.

Osiah lifted her off him suddenly. Taylor made a disappointed little sound, her pussy clenching around nothing, but he just flipped her onto her back on the bed and spread her legs wide. He pushed back inside in one smooth thrust, folding her knees toward her chest so he could go even deeper. The new angle made her gasp sharply.

This position made her tits spill to the sides, heavy and soft. He leaned over her, one hand braced beside her head, the other mauling her breast, squeezing the full flesh and pinching the nipple while he fucked her in steady, powerful strokes. The headboard started knocking softly against the wall with each thrust.

Taylor’s legs trembled in the air. “Harder… please, fuck me harder.”

He gave it to her, hips snapping forward, the wet slap of skin on skin getting louder and filthier. Her pussy made obscene squelching sounds every time he bottomed out, his balls smacking against her ass. Taylor’s mouth fell open in a silent cry as another orgasm hit her, back arching off the bed, tits jiggling with the force of his thrusts. Her walls rippled and squeezed around him, pulling him deeper.

Osiah kept going, grinding deep through her spasms, hips rolling to drag the head of his cock against that sensitive spot inside her. The smell of sex was thick in the room—sweat, her sweet arousal, the faint vanilla of her skin. Taylor’s hands clutched at his arms, nails digging in as she shook through the aftershocks.

He pulled out after she came down, breathing hard. “Turn over.”

Taylor rolled onto her stomach, lifting her ass up instinctively, knees spread. Osiah grabbed her hips and pulled her back onto his cock, sinking in balls-deep in one thrust. He fucked her like that for a while—deep, steady strokes that made her ass ripple and jiggle every time his hips smacked against it. The flesh bounced softly on impact. Taylor moaned into the pillow, pushing back to meet him, one hand reaching back to spread herself wider so he could watch his thick cock disappearing inside her soaked pussy.

“God, your cock is ruining me,” she gasped, voice muffled. “Don’t stop—fuck, I’m gonna cum again—”

She did, thighs shaking violently, pussy squeezing him so tight he had to slow his pace to keep from finishing right there. Her walls fluttered and pulsed around him in long, powerful waves. When the orgasm faded he pulled out, flipped her onto her side, and spooned up behind her. He hooked one of her long legs over his arm, spreading her open, and slid back inside from behind. He fucked her in long, grinding strokes while his hand reached around to rub her clit in tight circles.

Taylor’s head fell back against his shoulder, breath hot against his neck. “Yes… just like that… play with my clit while you fuck me.”

Her tits rested heavy on his forearm as he held her close. He pinched and rolled her nipple between his fingers, then went back to her clit, rubbing firm, relentless circles. Taylor came again, quieter this time, a long shuddering moan as her pussy pulsed and clenched around his cock. Fresh wetness coated his shaft and dripped down her thigh.

Osiah felt his own orgasm building fast. He fucked her faster, hips snapping, the wet slap of their bodies loud in the quiet bungalow. Taylor reached back, nails digging into his thigh.

“Cum inside me,” she whispered, voice wrecked. “I want to feel it. Fill me up.”

He buried himself deep and groaned as he came, thick spurts flooding her pussy in heavy pulses. Taylor moaned with him, another small aftershock rolling through her as she felt him throb and empty inside her. Her walls milked every drop, greedy and fluttering.

They stayed locked together, breathing hard, sweat cooling on their skin. Osiah kissed the back of her neck, his hand still gently cupping her tit, thumb idly brushing the sensitive nipple. Taylor let out a soft, satisfied laugh, reaching back to run her fingers through his hair.

“Holy shit. That was… a lot.”

“Yeah,” Osiah agreed, voice low and rough. He gave her ass a light squeeze, still buried inside her. “We’re not done yet.”

Taylor hummed happily, pressing back against him, her pussy giving a lazy squeeze around his cock. “Good. I don’t want you to be.”

She stayed on her side for a minute, catching her breath, Osiah’s cock still buried deep inside her. She reached back and ran her fingers along his hip, tracing the muscle there, then slowly rolled forward onto her stomach again, lifting her ass a little higher in invitation.

“Keep going,” she said, voice husky and needy. “I want it from behind again but… different.”

Osiah got the idea. He pulled out slowly, the wet sound of her pussy releasing him loud in the quiet room. He stood at the edge of the bed and yanked her hips back so her knees were right at the mattress edge, ass up high, chest pressed down into the sheets. He spread her legs wider with his knees and pushed back in, the new angle letting him hit even deeper. Taylor moaned loud into the sheets as he started thrusting, hard and steady. Her ass rippled every time his hips slapped against it, the firm flesh jiggling softly on impact, turning pink from the repeated contact.

“Fuck yes,” she gasped, pushing back to meet him. “Like that—harder.”

The wet smack of skin filled the room again, louder now. Osiah reached around and rubbed her clit in firm, steady circles while he fucked her, his fingers slick with her wetness. Taylor’s pussy was soaked, dripping down her thighs and making everything slippery and noisy. She came again within a couple minutes, legs shaking hard, pushing her ass back against him like she couldn’t get enough. Her walls clamped down in strong pulses, milking his cock as a fresh gush of wetness coated him.

Osiah didn’t slow down. He kept pounding into her, one hand gripping her hip for leverage, the other tangled in her blonde hair, pulling just enough to arch her back more. Her heavy tits dragged against the sheets with every thrust, nipples rubbing the fabric and sending sparks through her. Taylor moaned into the pillow, the sound muffled but raw.

“God, your pussy is gripping me so tight,” he groaned, voice thick. “You’re dripping everywhere.”

Taylor made a broken sound, half laugh, half moan. “Can’t help it… you feel too good. Don’t stop.”

He fucked her through the aftershocks, deep and relentless, the head of his cock dragging against that perfect spot inside her on every stroke. Her ass continued to ripple and jiggle with each impact, the wet slap growing filthier as her juices ran down her thighs. Taylor came a third time like that, shorter and sharper, her whole body tensing before she melted back into the bed with a shaky whimper.

When her orgasm faded he pulled out, breathing hard. “Turn over.”

Taylor rolled onto her back, legs spreading wide for him without hesitation. Osiah climbed fully onto the bed, kneeling between her thighs. He hooked both of her long legs over his shoulders, folding her nearly in half, then sank back inside in one smooth push. The position let him grind impossibly deep, his pelvis pressing right against her swollen clit on every downstroke.

Taylor’s eyes rolled back. “Holy shit— Osiah—”

He fucked her like that, steady and deep, the head of his cock dragging against that sensitive spot inside her with every thrust. Her tits bounced and swayed with the rhythm, sometimes clapping softly together when he drove in hard. Sweat glistened on her skin and between her breasts. Taylor’s hands grabbed his arms, nails digging in as another orgasm built fast and intense.

“Don’t stop— I’m gonna cum again,” she panted, voice breaking.

She did, hard, her pussy pulsing around him in strong waves, a fresh rush of wetness coating his cock and dripping down. Osiah kept thrusting through it, slower now, letting her feel every thick inch while she shook and gasped beneath him.

When she came down he lowered her legs, letting her wrap them around his waist instead. He leaned down over her, chest to chest, and fucked her in long, grinding strokes. Their bodies pressed tight, skin sliding together slick with sweat. Taylor’s tits squished warmly against him, hard nipples rubbing his chest with every movement.

“Feel how deep I am?” he murmured against her ear, voice rough.

“Yes… fuck, I feel all of you,” she whispered back, voice wrecked and needy. She turned her head and kissed him, messy and desperate, tongues sliding as he kept moving inside her, grinding slow and deep.

They stayed like that for a while—close, intense, the bed creaking softly under them. Taylor came one more time from the steady pressure on her clit and the deep grind, moaning into his mouth, her pussy fluttering and squeezing around him. Osiah finally felt his own orgasm building again. He sped up, hips snapping harder, the wet slap louder now.

“Gonna cum,” he warned, breath hot against her neck.

“Inside me,” Taylor gasped, legs tightening around him. “Fill me up. I want to feel it.”

He buried himself deep and came hard, groaning low as thick spurts pumped into her, pulse after pulse. Taylor shuddered with another small aftershock, her pussy milking every drop, walls rippling around him.

They collapsed together, breathing heavy. Osiah rolled to the side so he wasn’t crushing her, but kept one arm around her waist, his cock still buried inside her as they both came down. Taylor’s leg draped over his hip. She traced lazy circles on his chest with her fingertip, her body soft and spent against his.

“Jesus,” she said after a minute, voice soft and amused. “I needed that more than I thought.”

Osiah chuckled, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Same.”

They lay there for a long while, catching their breath, the room thick with the smell of sex—sweat, her arousal, the faint vanilla of her skin, and the warm musk of their combined release. Taylor’s fingers kept moving idly over his chest and stomach, occasionally brushing lower. A trickle of his cum slowly leaked out of her, warm against his thigh, but neither of them moved to clean up yet.

Eventually Taylor shifted, wincing a little as he finally slipped out of her. More of his cum leaked down her thigh in a slow, pearly trail. She didn’t bother wiping it away right away—just lay there looking at him with a small, thoroughly satisfied smile, her hair messy and her lips still swollen from kissing.

“So,” she said, propping herself up on one elbow. Her tits shifted with the movement, still flushed and marked faintly from his hands. “I’ve been thinking. The tour’s gonna be crazy, but… I want you there. Not the whole time, obviously. But for some stretches. New York, London, Tokyo—whatever you can swing. I’ll make sure you’ve got a spot on the plane, good hotel rooms, the works. No pressure, just… company. And more nights like this.”

Osiah ran his hand down her side, over the curve of her waist and hip. “I’ll think about it. Avengers stuff is wrapping, but I’ve got some other offers coming in. Lazarus Effect might shoot soon.”

Taylor nodded, not pushing. “Fair. Just… think about it. I like this. Us. Whatever this is.”

She leaned in and kissed him again, slower this time, lips soft and lingering. Then she climbed out of bed, completely naked, and walked to the mini-fridge like it was the most natural thing in the world. Osiah watched her ass sway as she bent to grab two bottles of water. The movement made her cheeks spread slightly, more of his cum still glistening on her inner thighs. She tossed one bottle to him and climbed back in, curling against his side, one leg draped over his.

They talked quietly while they hydrated. Taylor twisted the cap off her bottle and took a long drink, then rested her head on his chest again.

“New York is going to be wild,” she said. “I’m doing a couple of small club shows to test more of the album live. The crowds there are so loud and opinionated—it’s exciting but terrifying. What if they hate the new direction? I keep imagining someone in the front row holding up a sign that just says ‘Go back to country.’”

Osiah chuckled, his hand stroking her back. “They won’t. The songs are good. You know that.”

“I hope so. London’s next—bigger stage, more press. Then Tokyo, which I’m actually nervous about because of the language barrier and the different energy. I’ve been practicing some basic phrases, but mostly I’m just going to smile a lot and hope the music does the talking.” She traced a finger over his collarbone. “The full tour next year is going to be nonstop arenas. I’m excited, but part of me wonders if I’ll miss the tiny club nights where it feels more personal.”

She told him more stories—how during one radio appearance the host had tried to get her to sing an acapella snippet of a new track and her voice cracked from all the talking, so she turned it into a joke about needing more tea. Another time in a photo shoot the fan they brought in for a meet-and-greet got so excited she tripped over a cable and nearly took down a light stand. Taylor had helped her up and they ended up laughing about it for ten minutes while the crew reset.

Osiah shared a few more set stories in return—how an extra once got so into character during a big battle reset that he actually tackled another background actor for “authenticity,” or the time a practical rain rig malfunctioned and soaked half the crew during a night shoot. The conversation felt easy, comfortable, even with both of them still naked and sticky, bodies pressed close.

After a while Taylor’s hand started wandering again, sliding down his stomach. She wrapped her fingers around his cock and stroked him slowly back to hardness, her touch lazy but purposeful.

“Round two already?” Osiah asked, eyebrow raised, a small smile tugging at his lips.

Taylor grinned, eyes sparkling. “We’ve got all night. I’m not wasting it.”

She pushed him onto his back and straddled his face this time, lowering her soaked pussy onto his mouth while she faced away from him, toward his cock. Osiah grabbed her ass with both hands, spreading her cheeks, and licked into her, tasting the mix of their earlier mess—salty, sweet, warm. Taylor moaned loudly and leaned forward, taking him into her mouth in one smooth glide, lips stretching around his thickening shaft.

The 69 was slow and filthy at first. She sucked him deep, tongue swirling, while he ate her out, tongue fucking her pussy and flicking her clit in firm strokes. Taylor’s hips rocked, smearing her wetness across his face and chin. Her tits pressed against his stomach, soft and warm, nipples hard. The sounds were obscene: wet slurps from her mouth, her muffled moans vibrating around his cock, his own low groans buzzing against her folds.

She came first, thighs clamping around his head, grinding down as she shuddered through it. “Fuck—yes—” Her pussy pulsed against his tongue, fresh wetness flooding his mouth. Osiah kept licking her through it, holding her ass tight.

Then he flipped her off him and pulled her up so she was sitting on his cock again, facing away—reverse cowgirl. Taylor sank down with a long, throaty moan, her ass cheeks spreading around his thick shaft. She started riding him hard, hands braced on his thighs, ass bouncing and rippling with every drop. Osiah had the perfect view—her tight hole stretching around him, pink and glistening, her ass jiggling, the sway of her back, and the way her tits swung forward when she leaned.

“Fuck, look at that ass,” he groaned, slapping one cheek lightly. It jiggled harder, the sharp sound mixing with the wet slap of her pussy.

Taylor gasped and rode him faster. “Harder—spank me again.”

He did, alternating cheeks, the sharp smacks turning her skin pink. Taylor came again like that, ass bouncing wildly, a loud moan tearing out of her as her pussy clenched and fluttered around him, soaking his lap.

Osiah sat up behind her, wrapping one arm around her waist and the other across her chest, mauling her tit, pinching the nipple while he thrust up into her. They fucked like that—close, sweaty, her back to his chest—his cock driving deep with every upward snap. Taylor’s head fell back on his shoulder, moaning openly.

“Gonna cum again,” he warned, voice strained.

Taylor reached down and rubbed her clit fast. “Me too—cum with me.”

They did, her pussy milking him in strong waves as he pumped another thick load deep inside her. Taylor shook through it, head falling back, tits heaving in his grip, a broken cry escaping her lips.

They stayed like that for a long minute, breathing together, bodies locked and trembling. Then they slowly untangled. Taylor rolled off and flopped onto her back, legs spread, cum leaking steadily out of her onto the sheets. She looked thoroughly fucked—hair a wild mess, lips swollen, skin flushed and marked, a lazy, blissful smile on her face.

“Stay the night?” she asked, voice sleepy but hopeful.

Osiah pulled her against him, wrapping an arm around her. “Yeah. I’ll stay.”

Taylor stretched like a cat, then rolled over and straddled him again, this time facing him. She was still dripping his cum, but she didn’t care. She reached down, lined him up, and sank back onto his cock with a slow, wet slide.

“Again,” she whispered, already rolling her hips in lazy circles. “I want to feel you one more time.”

Osiah’s hands settled on her ass, guiding her movements. She rode him like that for a while—slow and deep, grinding her clit against him on every downstroke. Her tits swayed heavily right in front of his face. He caught one, sucking the nipple while the other bounced freely. Taylor’s head tipped back, soft moans spilling out as she took her time, savoring every inch.

The pace built gradually. She started bouncing harder, ass slapping down onto his thighs, tits jiggling wildly. Osiah thrust up to meet her, the wet sounds loud and constant. Taylor leaned forward, bracing her hands on his chest, hair falling around them like a curtain.

“God, your cock hits so deep like this,” she panted. “I can feel it in my stomach every time.”

She came again, thighs clamping tight, pussy fluttering around him in strong pulses. Osiah kept fucking her through it, hands squeezing her ass, spreading her cheeks as she rode out the waves.

When she slowed, breathing hard, he flipped them so she was on her back once more. This time he hooked her legs around his waist and fucked her in steady, deep strokes, bodies pressed close. Taylor wrapped her arms around his neck, kissing him between moans. Her tits squished against his chest, nipples dragging with every thrust.

“Cum inside me again,” she breathed against his lips. “I love feeling it leak out later.”

Osiah groaned and picked up speed. The bed creaked louder. Taylor’s moans turned sharp and needy. She came first, back arching, nails raking down his back. Osiah followed right after, burying himself deep and pumping another load into her.

They stayed locked together, sweaty and spent, hearts hammering. Taylor’s legs stayed wrapped around him even after he softened. She traced lazy patterns on his shoulder with one finger.

“Stay tonight,” she said quietly. “Don’t go back to your place.”

Osiah kissed her forehead. “I’m not going anywhere.”

They eventually untangled long enough to clean up in the big shower. Taylor leaned against him under the hot water, letting him wash her back while his hands roamed over her ass and tits. They didn’t fuck again—just touched, kissed softly, and let the water rinse away the sweat and mess. Afterward they collapsed back into bed, naked, limbs tangled under the sheets.

Taylor rested her head on his chest, one leg thrown over his. “So… about the tour. Think about it, okay? Even a couple weeks would be amazing. I want you there when I’m in New York, London, Tokyo. The full tour starts next year, but these next few months are the crazy ones.”

Osiah ran his fingers through her damp hair. “I’ll check the schedule with the Avengers stuff and the Lazarus thing. If it lines up, I’m in. At least for some of it.”

Taylor smiled against his skin. “Good. That’s all I’m asking.”

They talked a little longer—her nerves about fully committing to the pop sound and how some longtime fans might react. Random little things that made the night feel more relaxing. Eventually her voice got slower, sleepier. She drifted off first, breathing steady against his chest.

Osiah lay awake a few minutes longer, hand resting on the curve of her hip. Taylor Swift in his arms, cum still slowly leaking out of her, talking about bringing him on tour. He let out a quiet breath and closed his eyes.

The Hollywood machine kept turning outside the bungalow walls—early calls, radio hits, endless promo—but tonight it could wait.