Ally 🕷

With shaking hands, you fixated on smoothing out the pleats in the skirt of your wedding gown. The dress was heavy and not because there were yards upon yards of fabric tailored to you or because of the silver embroidery and precious stones, but because of what this dress meant—the loss of your freedom.

"Stop fidgeting, girl. It is unbecoming." Your mother's shrill voice came through the fog, clouding your thoughts. "Now, stand up straight, it's time."

"Mother, please, I would rather be sent off to war than this. Anything but this." You held her hand like a vice, begging her for some way out.

She only shook her head and snatched her hand away. "I thought I taught you better than this. Do as your father says, and do not embarrass this family in front of the Prince." She pinched your cheeks to give them color before turning to leave. "The choir will begin in one minute, you will enter then."

It was no use calling after her, and it was no use trying to run away; there were guards at every entrance to the church, making it impossible, especially in this dress that needed at least two maids to help you remove. So, down the aisle to your doomed fate it was.

As the choir began, your heart leaped, beating faster than you ever thought it could. The giant oak doors opened, and every guest rose to their feet, all looking your way, all except your husband to be. He stood, back facing you, dressed in an armor chest plate and a white doublet and breeches with a sword attached to his left hip. The air that surrounded him felt thick as you approached, your dress restricting your movements. The Princeonly turned to you once you reached the stairs; he offered his hand to you, and you took it hesitantly, letting him guide you.

You took the few spare moments before the Priest began to examine the man you were to wed. His hair swept around his face, almost blocking him from your view, but as his head turned and you saw him fully, your breath caught in your throat. The stories told and the rumors whispered had led you to believe that this man was a monster, beastly and garish to look at, but the man before you was anything but. The candlelight made him look almost angelic with his sharp angles and full lips. His skin was white as milk and freckled. What demon would ever look so sweet? But that was exactly it, wasn't it? The devil will always come in a form you may trust.

The ceremony went by in a blur. You followed instructions and repeated words, but only because your body was guiding you; your mind floated miles above, enraptured with the man who was beside you.

It wasn't until you were being ushered into a carriage that you came back to your senses. As the door slammed, you realized it was just you and your newlywed husband. The silence was so thick, you could have cut into it. What were you to say? You didn't know the man, only what was said about him, and you doubted that it was an appropriate conversation to be held.

The ride was bumpy as the carriage took you farther away from the home you knew and towards an unfamiliar place. It had only been an hour, and still, neither of you had broken the silence. That is, until a quite harsh jerk had you toppling across the coach and into the Prince. He caught you in his strong hands and set you up right again.

"I am sorry," you apologize.

He waives his hand, dismissing you. "It is quite all right."

You couldn't help the blush that formed on your cheeks, his voice… this was the first time you were hearing it clearly, the thoughts in your head not distracting you from the low tenor that vibrated soul. You wanted to hear it again.

"Is your home far?"

He looked at you, eyes scanning, deducing why now you were asking him questions. "A three-day ride if the horses are fast."

"Oh, then we will be lodging somewhere for the night, I suppose?"

"We will make camp in a few hours. There are no lodgings on this road."

Your eyes widened. You were to spend your wedding night in a tent in the woods?

The carriage stopped just before dusk, and the men worked quickly to build tents, gather wood for a fire, and cook. It was dark when your husband helped you to your tent. He stayed for only a moment to tell you dinner would be ready soon before leaving quickly.

Sighing, you went around opening your trunks, trying to find something more comfortable to wear other than this outrageous wedding dress, although you didn't know how you were to extract yourself from the copious amounts of pleats and lace when your ladies' maids were nowhere to be found. You refused to go looking for them as you were tired from travel and wanted nothing more than to be left alone.

It took almost fifteen minutes for you to even begin to loosen the tight bodice, but it only did so much when you had been tacked in at certain spots. Your hands ceased their flailing when you heard footsteps and the curtain over the entrance of your tent flung open. You turned slowly, face heating as you realized someone was watching you trying and failing to undress.

"My Lord," you startle when you see the Voivodestanding there.

He narrows his eyes at the awkward angle your arms are bent, "What are you doing?"

"Undressing," a huff, "well, trying to at least." You answered.

Taking a step forward, he lets the curtain fall behind him. "Would you like some help?"

You eyed him wearily. From the stories you had been told, he was a brute of a man, taking anything he wanted without asking, and yet here he was asking if you would like his help.

Reluctantly, you accept.

He strides toward you slowly, as if you were a terrified fawn ready to bolt at any moment. "If you could turn around, please."

His hands never left your shoulders as you turned.

A shiver ran down your spine at the electric touch of his thick fingers as he gently caressed the skin of your neck he moving your hair out of the way. Gradually, the lacing of your dress fell away, the cut the strings tacking you in with his knife. The moment was intimate, and you could feel your heart racing. His fingers brushed against the thin fabric of your shift, goosebumps rising in their wake.

"I shall leave you, dinner will be by forthwith." He gave you no time to respond before he left you, with a heart full of confusion, and clinging to the bodice of your unfastened dress to your chest.

Quickly, you untied your skirts and folded them neatly into a trunk before dressing yourself in a less restrictive dressing gown, as you weren't leaving your tent for the rest of the night.

Food was brought to you on a pewter plate. Bread and some kind of meat, it didn't look too appetizing, but you were starving.

And then, you waited. And waited. And waited.

Yet, your husband never came. The candles began to die as you laied on the makeshift bed and the only thoughts in your head were, Where is he? Shouldn't he be here? Wasn't this supposed to be our wedding night? Does he not find me attractive? You couldn't understand why they were swarming in your mind. You shouldn't be concerned whether or not a man you were forcefully wed to liked you.

You awoke the next morning to the rustling and murmuring of the men around the camp. The smell of porridge cooking had your stomach growling.

Elina and Alba, your ladies maids, found their way into your tent with breakfast, apologizing for not attending to you the night before.

"We thought to leave you and your husband be," they said, cheeks tinged pink at the implication.

"Your efforts were in vain, ladies, for he left quite abruptly after unfastening me from my wedding gown." You replied between bites of your porridge.

"How peculiar," Alba hummed. "Usually, men can't wait to get to the marriage bed; they always want an heir sooner rather than later."

You gasp at her forwardness before laughing softly; you had never known her to speak so forwardly.

"I believe I overheard a few of the men whispering around the fire earlier that the Prince had forgone supper and was acting out of sorts after leaving your tent. Are you sure nothing happened?" Elina asked.

"Yes, I'm sure. All he did was help me undress, and then he left, before anything could have happened."

You didn't catch the look the two women gave each other before starting to gather your garments for the day.

After having dressed, your tent was taken down, and you were again ushered into the carriage, only this time, your husband did not accompany you. Instead, he sat stoically atop a striking dapple grey steed.

He was so alluring, you couldn't bear to take your eyes off him even as the long journey began. The way he moved in rhythm with his horse became your entertainment in the boredom of the carriage box. You admired his hair as the sun shone upon it, bringing out the gold and copper tones, and imagined your fingers running through the tresses.

The curve of his lower back and the broadness of his shoulders completely captivated your attention. Your mind wandered to places it shouldn't have, explicit thoughts, unbecoming thoughts.

"What are you doing?" You shake your head, clearing the visions. "This man has murdered people, and here you are gawking at him like a Christmas roast."

Later on, the night progressed much the same as the night before, only your ladies' maids helped you undress.

Around midday on the third day of travel, your new home came into view.

Large and imposing with its spires slicing into the clear sky, and yet it was beautiful, magnificent. It was larger than any estate you had ever laid eyes upon. The stone itself seems to have been carved in the foot of the mountain behind it, leaving the western side a sheer cliff to the lake below.

Once the carriage stopped, the Prince opened the door, offering you his hand as you stepped down.

"Thank you, my lord."

He nodded curtly before speaking. "I am sure you are tired; allow me to walk you to your rooms."

You couldn't help the small smile that bloomed on your lips. "Yes, that would be wonderful, thank you."

Again, as you followed behind him upstairs and through twisting corridors, you became distracted by his straight posture and poised shoulders—enough so that you almost collided with him as he came to a stop.

He opened a heavy, creaking door and motioned for you to enter before him. The room beyond was beautiful. Red velvet curtains hung at every window, matching the duvet, a lovely contrast to the dark wood furniture and light stone walls.

You turned to him, still standing in the threshold. "This is wonderful.

"I'm glad it is to your tastes." A small smile crossed his lips. "I'll leave you then, let you rest."

As he turned to go, you called out to him. You hadn't been able to push from your mind the fact that he hadn't once tried to consummate the marriage or what Elina had said the day prior.

"I- my lord, am I not desirable to you?" You were surprised at your emboldened words.

He turned, an eyebrow raised in question. "What do you mean?"

"We have been married for two full days, and you have not once…" You couldn't bring yourself to say it out loud.

"Ah. Yes." He took two long strides and was standing before you, his heat penetrating your skin. "Contrary to the beliefs of many, I am no brute. I will not touch you unless you ask it of me."

His words left you dumbfounded, and your preconceived notions of him started to crumble.

Several days later, you were taking a stroll through the gardens alone when you heard heavy footsteps on the ground.

"Hello," you smiled at him, and he gave you one back. You had learned rather quickly that he was a man of few words, but all that needed to be said shone through his eyes, like a fathomless ocean.

"Would you like to help me pick flowers? I'm making a crown." You held up your half-finished flower crown to him.

He reached out and touched one of the delicate petals. "I would love to."

You tasked him with holding your pickings until you had enough to finish the crown you were working on and to make another. He sat with you on the cool grass as you wove the stems together

"What is your favorite flower?" His voice softly broke the silence.

You thought for a moment before speaking. "I'm fond of Snowdrops. I haven't seen any in the garden, but there's still time for them to bloom."

The Prince only hummed in response.

"Do you have a favorite?"

"I haven't thought about it," he answered.

"Well," you look at the two finished flower crowns in your lap, "tell me when you have."

Standing to your feet, you placed a crown gently upon each of your heads before returning to the castle.

The next morning, you awoke to a vase filled with snowdrops greeting you on your nightstand.

You couldn't pinpoint the exact moment you began to fall for your husband, but as you sat across the informal dining table from him, you felt a warm tug in your heart. It had taken a while before your dinners were spent here rather than the extravagant dining room, where you both sat awkwardly at either end of the long table, taking sneaking glances at the other.

Now you were in a private parlor, seated only an arm's length away, enjoying food you could only describe as heavenly. Roasted chicken cooked to perfection with a variety of vegetables, breads, and fruits—but there was one thing you did not recognize. The dish was white; you could tell there were layers to it, but what you did not know, and pomegranate seeds were sprinkled atop.

The man in front of you, perceptive as ever, noticed your eyes examining the dessert. "Try some. It is good."

"I'm not sure I want to." You reply, unsure. "I haven't a clue what this is; we have nothing like it where I am from, my lord."

He rolls his eyes and scoots the dish toward you. "Eat it."

"I don't think so, no, thank you." You try to push it back to him.

"Then close your eyes."

"What?"

"I said close your eyes. Trust me."

Eyeing him wearily, you shut your eyes. You hear a stenciled scrape against a serving dish.

"Please, open your mouth."

Reluctantly, you did as told, and when you did, you were met with an interesting flavor. Sweet and milky with the slightest hint of rose, followed by the crunchy texture of slightly ground pistachios.

Opening your eyes, your husband is staring right at you, his eyebrows lifted, waiting for a response.

"That's actually really good," you express, and you reach for your own spoon to take another bite. "What is this called?"

"Güllaç. It comes from the Ottomans, and is one of the only fond memories that come from my time spent in the empire." His eyes darkened at the mention of the ever-looming Ottoman Empire.

You knew from stories what might have happened, what he could be thinking about. So you reached over and touched his hand, running your thumb over the back. "If it brings you pain to think of, please, don't relive it on my behalf, my lord."

"You are most kind… I believe I will retire. Good night." He kissed the back of your hand in goodbye as he stood abruptly and exited the room, leaving you with your hand tingling where his lips touched and wondering if he was alright.

Two nights after, you found your husband in the library, book in hand, lounging by the fire. He looked so peaceful as his eyes scanned the pages. You wondered what he was reading.

His eyes flickered to where you stood barely in the room and then back to the book. You took that as your cue to make your way to him, sitting in the chair next to his. The fire cracked, fending off the night chill.

You watched him for a good five minutes before he spoke. "You are staring."

Heat crept up your neck as you blushed. "I'm sorry, my lord, I was just admiring."

Looking up at you, he snapped his book closed and placed it on the table between the two of you. "I do have a name, you know," he said seriously.

"Yes, I know that."

"Then, I would prefer if my wife used it from time to time."

You smirked at him. "Only if you do the same, Vlad."

And he did, he said your name. It made butterflies erupt in your stomach. How could your name, the one your mother shrieked when you were in trouble or your father said with greed as he signed your life away, make you react this way? The way it rolled off his tongue like a prayer had you swooning, thankful that you were seated and not standing on shaky knees.

When you went to sleep, you dreamt of all the other ways your name would sound coming off his lips.

The next morning, you woke early, the sun barely peaking into the valley. The quiet footsteps of the servants that sounded off the rock walls let you know that the castle was wide awake, preparing for the day.

Slowly, you clambered drowsily out of bed, shivering at the cool morning air. Faint glowing embers shone through the ash in the fireplace, the minuscule emittance of heat not enough to reach you from feet away.

With shaking hands, you grabbed your dressing down, wrapping it around you snuggly.

Your slippers made soft thwacks against the flagstones as you walked aimlessly through the castle, letting your heart guide you. Before you knew it, you were outside and were met with the sound of metal ringing. As you ventured closer to the source of the sound, you began to hear muffled grunts.

'What could be happening at this time of morning?' You thought.

Turning a corner, you were met with the source. Vlad stood before some contraption made of wood, his sword in hand, chest bare. Your eyes examined him, watched each precise movement he made. It was like watching a dancer perform, entrancing.

He wasn't big and corded with muscle, but you could tell he was strong with the way he held himself upright and the amount of power behind each slice and lunge.

You couldn't help the flutter in your stomach, and you couldn't stop it as it traveled further down.

The rising sun brought along better light to which you were able to see the sweat covering his pale and freckled skin.

Your heart began to beat faster, and your legs crossed. A frisson of excitement could be felt in the warming morning air.

Vlad continued his training, oblivious to your audience or how his ragged breaths made saliva pool in your mouth and sent a pang to your core.

You wanted to touch him, dig your nails into the soft skin of his back, and have him take you hard and animal-like. You had to have him now, and you would.

When he finally lets his sword rest, you stroll to him, swaying your hips just enough. When he spotted you, his eyes trailed your body in its state of undress, lingering on the swell of your hips in the fine fabric before locking on your own.

"Good morning," you spoke, voice soft.

"Good morning," he smiled back. "You're up early."

Wrapping your arms around yourself your you spoke, "I was cold."

"I can send for someone to relight your hearth."

Shaking your head, you placed a hand on his bicep. Your heart skipped a beat when it sent a tingle up your arm.

Looking at him through hooded eyes, you bit your lip anxiously, clearly nervous about what you were going to suggest. "There are other ways to warm up."

Vlad's grip on his sword tightened, his knuckles going white.

"Are you-"

"Yes." You were never more sure about anything in your life. You couldn't wait any longer.

Slowly, he stepped forward, and you took one back. He cocked an eyebrow at you, and you just grinned a wicked grin before turning on a dime and sprinting to the castle. "Catch me!" You called out, stooping briefly at the threshold to see if he was following. He was, and at top speed.

Screaming in excitement, you bolted down the hall, almost crashing into a group of servants as you rounded a corner. "Sorry!" you yelled after them, not stopping lest he apprehend you before reaching the bedroom.

While climbing the stairs two by two, you tripped over your nightgown, causing you to stumble slightly. You could hear Vlad bounding up behind you, gaining on you quickly. Swiftly, you regained your composure and raced for the door. You could just see him down the corridor, gaining on you.

You were almost to the door when he grabbed your wrist and pushed you against the wall. You shrieked in joy. His lips were parted, letting his heavy breaths escape, mingling with your own.

"Vlad…." Your chest heaved against his own.

His eyes were dark, void of that bright blue you were so used to seeing. They flickered from your gaze to your lips over and over, making you dizzy. Finally, before it was too much to take, he surged in and kissed you. His lips were warm and soft against your own. Hands roamed your body, scrunching in your night gown, groping for anything they could.

goosebumps appeared on your skin when his hand drifted up and lingered at your neck. You leaned into it, the feeling of him, wanting him, needing him to put pressure.

"My Prince-" a yelp severed your sentence. He was lifting you into your arms and carrying you through the door to your room, all without breaking the kiss.

You were only parted when your husband gently tossed you to the sheets. It was overwhelming, the lust you felt for him in this moment. It was almost paralyzing.

"I have waited for you to say those words to me for weeks. Have wanted you in silence; I could barely keep my hands to myself. You are a temptress, a succubus, and I will gladly fall to ruin for you."

He stepped into your open legs, pushing your dress up and over your head, tossing it to the side, exposing you.

You barely noticed your nakedness, all you knew was that you wanted him then and there, you disnt care how, as long as he touched you. "Please, please, I need to feel you." You pleaded, hips grinding into the air.

"Be patient, my Beloved, I will give you what you desire in time." He said as he fell to his knees, large hands caressing your skin, pulling you closer to him, and settling your legs over his shoulders. The air from his mouth cooled the wetness at your core.

Vlad let out an eager groan before licking his lips, like a lion about to devour its prey. In a single, fluid motion, he placed his mouth upon your center. The gasp that escaped you quickly turned into an uncontrollable moan when he began to softly suck. Your hands shot to his hair, gripping onto the strands for dear life. It had never felt like this, not when you had touched yourself.

His teeth nipped greedily at the sensitive nub until your hips bucked and strained against his hold. Your breath hitched and caught in your throat when a pang of arousal echoed through you.

Your legs snapped closed around his head, his low growl vibrating against you. His fingers gripped the tops of your thighs, but he did not loosen them; he only dove into you deeper, plunging his tongue into your opening.

"Oh- ahh." You threw your head back, closing your eyes tight. You could feel that spark, the growing electric feeling deep within your bones. He was bringing you to the very precipice of your being.

His tongue coaxed and teased until you finally gave way, body tensing in his grasp. Pulling your legs away from his head, he leaned up only slightly so that he could speak. "Look at me."

You shook your head in answer.

"Look at me. I want you to look at me." He punctuated his sentence with a sloppy kiss to the inside of your thigh.

Giving in, you propped yourself up, shakily, onto your elbows and gazed at him with lidded eyes.

Vlad kept contact with your stare as he sank back onto you like a man starved. The intensity of the moment, of being watched as you fell apart, had you coming undone in a matter of seconds.

He licked you through the shockwaves, pulling strained moans from your swollen lips.

Breathless, you stared at the canopy above your bed. "That was…" You didn't know where to start, how to describe what you had just been through.

Taking his time, Vlad crept back up your body, his hands began to move, sliding across your curves, fingers tracing over the flare of your ribs as you took a deep breath in. The warmth of his pals as he cupped your breasts had you sighing. His thumbs passed over your sensitive peaks, causing them to pebble in his wake.

"You are the most beautiful creature I have ever seen," he breathed, voice filled with reverence. Leaning down, he pressed open-mouthed kisses along the curve of your breasts, tongue flicking over your hardened bud.

Pressing his body to yours, you could feel the evidence of his arousal straining against his trousers. Wanton need built up inside, emboldening you as your hand inched its way down to undo the ties of his pants. Before you could unlace them completely, Vlad stopped you.

"I told you, have patience. I don't want to hurt you." He muttered, teeth grazing the sensitive skin of your neck, nipping at your pulse point.

"But I need you so much, so I feel like I might die," you bemoan dramatically.

He only chuckles, "You'll have me soon enough."

With a fervent motion of his hand, Vlad pushed the waist of his trousers down his hips, exposing himself. Your eyes widened at the sight, and your breathing became ragged as he slipped himself past your folds into your aching center.

The stretch wasn't painful, only slightly uncomfortable. As he sank into you deeper and deeper, the pressure built. Your legs wrapped around him, urging him further into you.

"Yes, my love, my prince, yes- ahh," you keened, shuddering as he bottomed out.

Vlad's right hand cupped your thigh while the left tangled in the hair at the nape of your neck, pulling you in to kiss him. "I want nothing more than to map your body in kisses, learn every secret, sensitive spot that brings a moan to your lips and causes your body to writhe."

His mouth barely left yours, locked together like you were his lifeline, tethering him to this plane of existence.

Your fingers clawed at the expanse of his back, no doubt leaving long, red marks as a testament to your ecstasy.

"Move," you whine, "I need you to move."

Vlad obliged, slowly beginning to rock his hips. Your own rolling to meet the shallow thrusts. Moans mingled in the air shared between you.

He sat up onto his knees and grabbed your waist. From this angle, the thrusts were more intense. You could feel him better this way, punching into you.

"Faster," you begged him, needing to find release from the throbbing ache building inside you.

"I don't want to hurt you." He rasped.

Shaking your head, you cry out, "You won't, my love, you won't hurt me."

He studied you for a moment before gripping your hips and pistoning in and out.

The room might have been cold when you awoke, but now it was stifling hot. Sweat was beading across both your foreheads and where skin touched skin.

A chorus of grunts, groans, and whimpers echoed through the room as he began to rut into you.

And then, it was like something snapped within you. Your cries became louder and your back arched off the bed. "I- I'm-" you stutter out, hand reaching for him.

He locks his finger's with your own. "I know." The rhythm of his thrusts begins to falter, "I am as well."

With one last drive, you came undone, body shuddering rapture. Vlad wasn't far behind, spilling himself into you.

Exhausted, you both lay there, catching your breath. As you came down from your high, the room began to feel cold once again. Vlad noticed you shivering and pulled you into him before covering you both with the duvet.

His fingers played with your hair, pulling you into a blissful sleep, but before falling into slumber, a voice kept you.

"You," Vlad says before kissing your lips.

"What?" You ask with confusion etched on your face.

"You," he says once more, his fingers caressing your face. "In the garden, you asked me what my favorite flower was… It's you."

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The first time Eddie saw you, you were wrestling with a box twice your size in the hallway, one bare shoulder pressed to the side of it as you struggled with the lock to your new apartment.

Eddie had been on his way out, hoodie half-zipped, takeout menu folded in one hand, and Venom growling in the back of his mind about how humans eat garbage. But then he saw you, in that tank top, those shorts that clung like sin, messy hair, and he abruptly stopped.

“Uh—hey, need a hand with that?” He heard himself say.

You turned, eyes flicking over him for the briefest second before smiling. A proper, slow, flirtatious smile, the kind that made his heart skip a beat.

“No thanks. I’ve got it,” you replied, voice low and warm, a little teasing. “But good to know someone around here is actually nice.”

Eddie chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, uh. Welcome to the neighborhood.”

Venom whispered inside his brain: “She smells good. Can I eat her?”

You were only his new neighbor, and that quickly became a problem, because Eddie wasn’t exactly a man in control of his own mind. Especially not with Venom in there.

You two started talking in small doses, it was only elevator conversations, jokes in the laundry room, a few lingering glances that made him wonder if you could feel it too—whatever this was.

“You want her,” Venom said one night as Eddie stood by the kitchen window, half a beer in his hand.

“No. No, I don’t,” he mumbled.

“Liar.” he said. “I’m tired of you being a pussy, you should take her. Just pick her up. Tell her she’s yours. She wants you.”

“Whatever, V.”

“Please don’t tell me you’re still mourning over Anne,” Venom roared. “We are so over Anne.”

“It’s not about Anne!” Eddie snapped. “Don’t bring Anne into—”

“Then tell me,” Venom growled inside his skull, “if Anne got Dan then why we can’t mate with the hot neighbor?”

“Because this ain’t the goddamn law of the jungle, pal. And ‘mating’ doesn’t work like that!”

“I don’t know what the hell happened to you, Eddie,” Venom grumbled in his head. “I’ve seen your memories— you used to have some game, pal. Now you’re just… floundering. Pathetic.”

“Yeah, well… life happened,” Eddie muttered, running a hand through his hair. “You seen her? She’s insanely hot. Like, melt-your-brain hot. She’s probably got a whole damn waiting list of guys dying to buy her coffee, and I’m over here forgetting how to talk when I see her.”

“We could eat the others.”

“Still not helping, buddy.”

The dryer buzzed. Eddie was already regretting leaving his laundry till the last minute again, he was down to his last pair of clean boxers.

He opened the dryer door and started pulling the clothes into the basket, not really looking. A hoodie, some socks, a t-shirt, and then… something small, black and lacy caught on the edge of the drum and fell into his hand.

Eddie stared, it was a thong.

Not just a thong. The thong. Tiny, with a little bow, and so delicate it barely weighed anything, the kind of thing he’d imagined you in before. The kind of thing that didn’t seem like it could possibly be functional, the kind of thing someone wore when they wanted to be seen, when they wanted to tease, to ruin someone else.

The fabric dangled from his fingers like it knew what it was doing.

Venom purred. “Ooooooh. That’s hers. I can smell it.”

Eddie’s stomach twisted, his throat went dry and his pants got tighter.

“Oh no.”

“Oh Yes.”

“Jesus Christ,” Eddie muttered, tossing the thong toward the basket like it burned. It landed softly on top of a towel—mocking him still.

Venom huckled darkly. “Definitely hers. And she wore it recently. Mmm, bet I can still taste her.”

“Shut up.” His voice cracked, rough with arousal and shame. “Shut the hell up.”

“Do you think she left it here on purpose?” Venom hissed gleefully. “Marking her territory? Begging you to find it? Wanting you to react to it?”

Eddie let out a strained noise, somewhere between a groan and a whimper.

“Christ, you’re insane.”

“I’m not the one hard over a pair of panties,” Venom sneered, amused.

“I’m not—fuck off.”

Eddie dragged his hand down his face again, his pulse thundering. He couldn’t stop picturing it—you pulling that thong up your thighs, the way it would hug your hips, disappear between your cheeks, the way it would smell after you wore it all day. He leaned against the dryer, eyes shut tight, trying not to let the fantasy spiral.

Venom growled low and hungry. “Take it home.”

“I am not.”

“Sure.”

…

He stood frozen in his apartment, the thong still in his hand.

His brain was doing somersaults, because obviously, this was an accident, a simple mistake, you’d probably tossed in a load late at night, mixed it with his by mistake. It happened, it was a normal honest mistake. But he couldn’t stop looking at it, at how tiny it was, how soft, how impossibly intimate.

“She wore this.” Venom’s voice slid through his chest. “It touched her. We could smell her on it if you let me—”

“NOPE,” Eddie snapped aloud, shoving the thong deep into his hoodie pocket like it might explode if he looked at it one second longer.

He started pacing.

“This is wrong. I’m not that guy. I’m not some creep who—who sniffs his neighbor’s—Jesus, what is wrong with me?”

“You want her,” Venom growled, low and matter-of-fact. “You’ve always wanted her. And now, after a whole year of celibacy, blue balls and sad showers, you’re losing your mind like some horny teenager.”

“No. I’m gonna go over there and return it to her. Tell her it was a mistake.”

“We have a trophy, Eddie! A GIFT! why would you want to throw it away like a coward?”

“Because I’m not a goddamn pervert!”

“No, you’re just a hungry, touch-starved, pathetic little man.”

Eddie dragged a hand through his hair, then sat heavily on the edge of his bed. The thong was burning a hole in his pocket, his mind was spinning in the worst kind of way—fast, filthy, uncontrollable. Images flickering like wildfire, images of you, naked, bent over a counter, hips rocking, that little scrap of fabric on the floor.

“God. I need help.”

“She would help. If you asked nicely. If you growled a little. She’d love it.”

“Christ, man. Stop. I mean it.”

Eddie didn’t move to return the thong to you.

…

It was just after 1 a.m. The city outside Eddie’s window was buzzing with low life and sirens, he was lying in bed, shirtless, the covers pushed down around his hips. His skin was hot. His thoughts, worse.

That damn thong was next to him. He’d tried to forget about it, he really had, tried going for a run, watching old movies, reading the newspaper, even did the dishes, anything to keep his hands busy, anything to distract himself from the way his cock had been aching—throbbing—for over an hour.

But his dick was still hard, he could feel it drooling at the tip. Painful with the kind of need that didn’t just settle in his body, but in his bones.

“Touch it,” Venom whispered, low and guttural inside his head. “You know you want to.”

Eddie groaned, dragging a hand down his face.

“This is so wrong.”

“She wants you to. She probably left it for you.” Venom’s voice was dark silk, soaked in hunger. “She wants you to lose it. Wants you to wrap it around your cock while you think about ruining her pretty little throat.”

Eddie didn’t answer, instead, his hand slid beneath the waistband of his boxers. Just to ease the pressure, he told himself. Just to take the edge off, just to stop his cock from leaking precum onto his stomach like some fucking teenager.

The second he wrapped his fingers around his aching cock, a sharp breath escaped him. It was hot, heavy, the head so sensitive that even the glide of his palm made his hips jerk.

His mind began to wonder. You—on your knees in his kitchen. Eyes wide and innocent, but your mouth so filthy, stretched around him, drool running down your chin.

You—straddling him, mouth parted, voice whispering his name like it was yours. Grinding on him slow, panties pulled to the side, slick soaking him as you whimpered into his neck.

You—laughing as you dropped that tiny scrap of black lace in his lap, telling him “you’ve been thinking about this, haven’t you?”

His hand moved faster over his thick length. Fist tight, twisting at the top, every stroke dragging a shiver down his spine, smearing the leaking precum from his tip down to his shaft, letting it get all wet. He reached in the dark for your thong, and wrapped it around his knuckles, dragging it up his cock, imagining it was your tongue instead.

“That’s it,” Venom hissed, delighted. “Think of her. Think of her wet, begging for you—”

“Jesus—shut up, get out of my head,” Eddie gasped, even as his hips rocked into his fist, chasing that release with desperation he hadn’t felt in years. His body was tight, every nerve on fire, all of it focused on you.

“Look at you,” Venom snarled, delighted. “Sweaty, moaning her name, fucking your fist like it’s the only hole we’ll ever get. Tragic.”

“I don’t need a narrator,” Eddie growled through clenched teeth, thrusting frantically into his fist. “Just—just shut up. Let me have this. Just one goddamn minute.”

He ignored Venom and imagined your thighs wrapped around his waist, your fingernails dragging down his back, your voice, high and breathy, “Harder, Eddie—God, don’t stop—”

He came hard, so hard his whole body seized, cum spurted over his hand, hot and thick and endless, leaking between his fingers and onto the sheets. The orgasm was so intense it made his eyes roll back, his back arch off the mattress, his chest rising and falling with ragged, uneven breaths. His stomach was a mess, his thighs shook, his mouth hung open on a silent moan.

His hot, sticky cum coated his fingers as he collapsed against the pillows, shaking with the aftershocks of it, it was slowly dripping down his wrist but he didn’t even have the strength to clean it up.

“You’re an embarrassment,” Venom purred. “You should’ve gone next door. Told her how you feel. Pushed her against the wall and fucked her like you wanted to.”

Eddie groaned.

“Man, we should be fucking her,” Venom barked, “not your hand. You’re a disgrace to horny men everywhere.”

“I hate you.”

“I hate you more. I’m stuck with a pathetic excuse for a man who’d rather jerk off instead of banging his hot neighbor.”

Eddie lay there, heart still pounding, sweat cooling on his chest, hand limp on his stomach. The thong was still wrapped around his fist, soaked, reeking of sex, shame and everything he couldn’t have.

“Please,” Venom groaned, equal parts disgusted and amused. “Go wash your damn hand. I swear, if I wake up glued to the sheets again, I’m eating the mattress.”

Eddie let out a broken laugh, still breathless. “Jesus, you’re so fucking dramatic—”

“No, you’re disgusting.” Venom snapped. “And if she ever finds out what you just did thinking about her—oh, the shame, Eddie. The shame.”

…

Eddie swore he was going to return the panties. The next morning, he almost did, got as far as your door, the thong folded neatly in his hoodie pocket, hand raised to knock, but he turned around, went back inside, and jerked off so hard it made his legs shake.

Now, it was like a routine. Midnight, lights off, apartment quiet, and there he’d be, in bed, fingers curling around your thong like it was sacred, holding it to his face, inhaling the faint, lingering trace of your scent, stroking himself slow, then faster, like it hurted not to.

He wrapped it around his fist and fuck it with the kind of desperate, aching rhythm that left him gasping, grinding his hips up into the fabric, fucking it like he’d fuck you—deep, needy, filthy.

He started talking to you in the dark, whispering into the sheets.

“You’d take it so good, baby. God, I’d split you open on this cock. You’d beg for it. Cry for it.”

Telling you how tight you’d feel, how soft your skin would be, how long he’d make you take it—slow, then rough, then slow again until you were shaking and begging and—

But tonight a different thought crept up behind it. A dirtier one, a ridiculous idea, one that he couldn’t take out of his brain..

“Try it on.”

His face flushed instantly. “No. Fucking no. That’s—no.”

“Just do it.”

“Venom, get out of my thoughts.”

“Just once. I know you want to.”

His hand shook as he brought it to his waist, like his body was already making the decision for him before his rational thoughts had any chance to say otherwise. He stepped out of his boxers and bent slightly, lifting one foot, then the other, sliding that little black thong up. The band stretched tight around his hips, it was way too small for him, he had to pull the fabric carefully to keep it from snapping.

When it was in place it dug tight between his asscheeks, pressing snug to the curve of his aching cock and balls, he let out a strangled sound, something between a whimper and a moan.

“Jesus fucking Christ.”

It looked obscene on him, it hugged everything, making his cock look bigger, more sensitive somehow. His balls were spilling out the sides, the tiny scrap of fabric was doing a miserable job at holding anything in, barely stretching over the thick girth of his cock.

“You’re so pathetic,” Venom purred. “But you look surprisingly good in that.”

He palmed himself over the thong, his cock throbbed through the fabric, twitching with every rub, the tip already soaking the black lace with pre-cum. Just the mental image of you wearing that same thing, hugging your ass and cunt the same way it was now hugging his cock, made him throb in anticipation.

The friction felt surprisingly good, the lace rasped over his swollen cockhead, catching against the veins down the shaft. He could feel every seam, every thread. He pulled the fabric aside to free the thick length of his cock, just enough to stroke himself properly, but he kept the rest on, tight around his hips, and in between his cheeks. He could feel it every time he moved, and it made his whole body feel like it belonged to someone else. Like he was yours in some fucked-up way.

The lace rubbed under his balls, ruthless against the sensitive skin, and he rocked into it like he needed it. His orgasm hit him hard and fast. He arched off the bed, cock shooting rope after rope of cum that painted his stomach, the thong, the bedsheets. His hand didn’t stop moving even as his vision blurred and he choked on a moan that turned into a laugh. A fucking laugh.

“Pathetic little human,” Venom crooned, low in Eddie’s skull. “You’re addicted. Obsessed. Do you think she’d be shocked if she knew? Or turned on?”

Eddie’s eyes fluttered closed, cum cooling on his skin, your thong still wrapped around his cock.

He hoped to God the answer was turned on.

One night there was a knock on his door.

Eddie flinched like he’d been caught doing something illegal. Which, in a way… he had. Last night. With your underwear. In his bed.

“Open it,” Venom growled in his chest. “It’s her. She smells…sweet tonight.”

Eddie swallowed hard and cracked the door open. You were standing there in little denim shorts and a tank top that clung to your curves like it had been painted on, hair loose, lips glossed. You leaned on the doorframe like you owned it.

“Hey, neighbor.”

His mouth went dry.

“ACT NORMAL. NO, WAIT, DON’T ACT LIKE YOURSELF. ACT COOL.” Venom yelled inside his mind.

“Uh… hey.”

You smiled, one side of your mouth twitching like you could smell his panic.

“Sorry to bother you. I forgot my phone charger at work today. You wouldn’t happen to have a spare one, would you?”

“Y-yeah,” he managed. “Yeah, I’ve got a spare one.”

“LET HER IN,” Venom practically moaned.

Eddie stepped back, heart thudding like a drum. You walked past him, slow and easy, he couldn’t help but watch the way your hips moved—graceful, lazy, like a cat in the sun.

The same hips he’d imagined bouncing on his lap.

Focus, man.

“Uh… Sorry it’s a little messy,” Eddie muttered, scratching the back of his neck as he glanced around the apartment. Messy was an understatement. There were plates stacked in the sink, half-drunk beer bottles on the table, takeout containers shoved everywhere, and—were those feathers on the floor? Yeah. Definitely feathers. Remnants of whatever Venom had called “dinner” the other night.

You stepped inside carefully, eyeing the organized chaos. “It’s alright,” you said, lips quirking into a grin. “It has personality.”

Eddie blinked. “That’s… a nice way of putting it.”

“Your bed has personality too, Eddie. Show it to her.”

He fumbled through his desk drawers, his fingers trembling slightly as he searched for the charger.

You watched him. “You always this nervous when a girl is in your place?” You teased gently.

He glanced at you over his shoulder, trying to play it cool. “Only when she looks like she belongs on the cover of something I can’t afford.”

You laughed—low, real—and Eddie felt like someone had punched him in the chest.

“Well, well,” Venom purred, amused. “That wasn’t so bad, Casanova. Almost sounded like a functioning adult.”

“Smooth,” you said, taking a step closer. “And are you always this charming?”

“No,” he muttered, too honest, too quick.

“Tell her she smells good,” Venom said. “Just don’t make it weird. Wait, never mind—you will.”

Another step, and now you were just a few feet away, he could smell your perfume—warm, something sweet layered over your skin.

He felt Venom stir, curious and hungry.

“She wants you. Say something. Do something. Pin her against the wall. Fuck her like—”

“Shut up,” Eddie whispered.

You blinked. “Sorry?”

His eyes went wide. “Oh, no—I wasn’t—I wasn’t talking to you. I, uh, I have this... brain injury.”

You laughed again, this time with a raised brow. “Right. That explains a lot.”

You took the charger from his hands, but didn’t head straight toward the door. Instead, you lingered there, just a couple feet away, eyes fixed on his face.

“Why do I feel like I know you from somewhere?” you said, eyes narrowing as you searched his face, trying to place him.

“From your dreams!”

“Yeah… I get that a lot,” Eddie replied, his voice a little stiff.

Then your eyes lit up. “Oh! I know—you’re Brock. Eddie Brock.”

"AND VENOM."

He gave a sheepish shrug, scratching the back of his head. “That’s what it says on my ID.”

You grinned. “I knew you looked familiar. My grandma used to love your show—you know, The Eddie Brock Report?”

“Your grandma…” Eddie grimaced. “That doesn’t make me feel old at all.”

“It was a great show.” You laughed, nudging him. “Anyway, thanks for the loan,” you called over your shoulder. “I’ll return it. Maybe tomorrow.”

The door clicked shut behind you and Eddie stood there, brain fried, heart pounding, hard as a rock under his sweatpants.

“Lame,” Venom purred. “She wants to climb you like a tree. She’s like a cat in heat. And you just stood there. Pathetic.”

“Thanks.”

“You’re soft.”

“Yeah.”

“You are a coward, Eddie.”

“Yeah.”

Eddie sat on the couch, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his palms while Venom was pacing inside his skull like a caged animal.

“She came in here,” Venom hissed. “She was close. She smelled like want. And you let her walk out.”

“I’m not… I’m not ready for that,” Eddie muttered.

“There we go again.”

He pressed his face into his hands.

“She’s younger. Hotter. She probably thinks I’m a loser. Look at me, man—I look worse than I’ve ever looked, I don't have a steady job, I pay a rent I can barely afford. I’m not some—some smooth guy she’s waiting on. I’m the weird neighbor who talks to himself.”

Venom snarled.

“Yes, you’re insignificant, lame, and puny. But you’re not gonna do anything with all that self pity. You’re the man she wants. You smell what I smell, her body’s on fire when you’re near. She’s thinking about it. Fantasizing. Just like you.”

Eddie swallowed hard. “I’m not the same as I used to be,” he said quietly.

And that was true. Before everything fell apart—his job, Anne, the whole alien symbiote situation—he’d been confident, charming, even. He’d had purpose.

Now?

He jerked off with your underwear clutched in his fist and then pretended not to stare when you stopped to chat in the hallway.

“You are so weak. It’s sad really. She wants to mate with you and you’re here like a virgin.” Venom said, voice curling through Eddie’s skull like smoke. “I can’t believe you used to have sex daily, and honestly? From your memories? You didn’t even suck most of the time. Shocking, really.”

“Okay, first of all, she doesn’t want to ‘mate’ with me,” Eddie hissed under his breath, glancing over his shoulder like you might somehow overhear him from two rooms away. “And secondly, thank you.”

Venom huffed. “We should be out in the world. Eating heads. Getting head.” Venom laughed, low and rumbling. “Giving head too. ‘Cause we’re gentlemen.”

Eddie dragged a hand down his face. “You are not a gentleman.”

“Excuse you—I opened the door for her last week. That counts.”

“That was me, you jackass. You just screamed in my brain the whole time about how her jeans were ‘a work of sinful textile engineering.’”

“They were! You’re the one who got all shy and ruined it. You could’ve devoured her right there in the stairwell.”

“Not everything is about sex and consumption,” Eddie gritted.

“Oh but it is, Eddie. It is. We’re basically a walking wet dream. I’m a lethal, throbbing apex predator with a six-pack… and you… well you have your anxiety. I’m sure some women find that attractive. We should be doing something with that.”

Eddie groaned, rubbing at his temple. “Please shut up. You are so fucked in the head.”

“And horny, Eddie, don’t forget horny. I can fix this,” Venom growled. “Let me take over. We’ll go to her. Push her up against the wall. Make her beg for us.”

Eddie’s gut clenched. “Jesus, no.”

Venom cackled. “Then grow a spine, Eddie. Do something before someone else does.”

That last bit landed hard. He ran a hand through his hair and leaned his head back against the couch, jaw clenched.

“You think she’d really…?”

“Yes,” Venom hissed. “She’d let you fuck her until she can’t stand straight. She’d moan your name until the neighbors know. All you have to do is act.”

Eddie groaned. He was hard already, the ache too familiar, and without even thinking, his hand slipped beneath his waistband—again. And just like that, the routine began, but this time, the shame was louder.

“There we go,” Venom purred, watching through Eddie’s eyes. “Stroke it like a pathetic little pervert. Oh wait—you are one.”

“Tomorrow,” Eddie breathed.

“What?” Venom hissed.

“I’ll talk to her. Tomorrow. I swear.”

“No more jerking off like a teenager.”

“Okay.”

“No more hiding.”

“Okay.”

“You will fuck her or I will do it for you.”

“V, please—”

“Deal?”

Eddie shut his eyes, hand still moving, breath picking up. “Deal.”

“She’d be riding our face by now if you had an ounce of dominance in that soft little meat body,” Venom sneered. “Instead, you’re over here moaning into your hand like a loser.”

Tomorrow, he told himself.

But tonight?

Tonight, he came hard, moaning into the dark, with your name on his lips.

The cookies were still warm when you tucked them into the little tin. You didn’t usually bake, it wasn’t your thing, but you’d been restless all day—thinking about last night, about the way Eddie looked at you like he wanted to devour you but didn’t know how. You liked it, you liked him. The quiet awkwardness, the softness under all that scruff and shyness.

And now you were standing at his door again, bare-faced, hair loose, wearing a big old sweatshirt and tiny shorts underneath—just short enough to show your thighs just right.

You knocked. A pause. Footsteps. The door opened a crack—and then wider.

Eddie blinked at you, staring at the tin like it might explode.

“Hey,” you said, all casual. “Peace offering.”

“I, uh—what?”

You smiled. “Cookies. I made them. To say thanks for the charger last night.”

“You… baked?” He looked skeptical, then immediately apologetic. “You didn’t have to”

“I wanted to,” you held it out, and he reached for it like it might vanish.

“THAT’S WIFE MATERIAL OVER THERE, EDDIE!” Venom bellowed, rattling around in Eddie’s skull like a drunk frat boy on a megaphone. “ASK HER TO COME IN. NOW.”

“Wanna come in?” he asked, stepping back.

“Thought you’d never ask.”

Eddie closed the door behind you and stood awkwardly while you made yourself at home—again. You popped open the tin, plucked out a cookie, and held it up to him.

“C’mon. Be honest. If it sucks, I’ll pretend not to cry.”

Eddie took it—your fingers brushing—and took a slow bite.

His eyes closed. You bit your lip.

“…Holy shit,” he mumbled, mouth full. “This is actually—this is really good.”

You grinned. “Told you.”

“EDDIE,” Venom thundered in Eddie’s mind. “KEEP HER. MARRY HER. GIVE HER BABIES. ALSO—GIVE ME ANOTHER COOKIE.”

Eddie coughed and nearly choked.

“Y’okay?” you laughed.

“Yeah. Yeah. Just, uh—brain injury.”

“Right, I remember.”

You took one yourself, leaning back against the counter, licking melted chocolate from your thumb. Eddie looked like he might combust, his sweatpants weren’t hiding a damn thing now, the huge bulge under them was clear as the day.

“SHE IS DOING THAT ON PURPOSE,” Venom growled gleefully. “SHE KNOWS YOU’RE A WEAK MAN.”

You met his eyes and he didn’t look away.

“You can’t even talk to her without getting a boner,” Venom muttered. “Pull yourself together. You’re embarrassing both of us.”

“So,” you said slowly, “I’ve been thinking.”

“That’s dangerous,” he said, before he could stop himself. He made his way to the couch, maybe if he sat down, spread out and casually pulled a cushion over his lap, you wouldn’t notice the way his cock was throbbing, straining against the thin fabric of his sweats.

You raised a brow, grinning. “Okay, smartass. I was gonna say… I’ve been thinking about another way of saying thank you.”

Eddie’s throat bobbed. “Yeah?”

You took a step closer, stepping between his knees, where he’d sunk onto the edge of the couch without realizing it.

“DO SOMETHING,” Venom snarled. “NOW. SHE IS IN FRONT OF YOU. GET ON YOUR KNEES, EDDIE—NO, WAIT, GET HER ON HER KNEES—”

And then you were doing it for him. You dropped to your knees slowly, purposefully, hands trailing up his thighs. He sucked in a breath like you’d punched him.

You spread his legs a little wider with your palms, your nails dragging lightly through the soft fabric, your breath ghosted over the bulge in his sweatpants, you felt the tremor roll through him.

“OH MY GOD,” Venom practically moaned. “I AM SEEING THROUGH YOUR EYES. I LOVE THIS. I LOVE HER.”

Eddie’s breath hitched as your fingers grazed the bulge in his sweatpants. It was thick, and it twitched under your touch, hot and heavy and aching for attention. You could feel the shape of him through the cotton, you could already imagine how he’d feel against your tongue.

“Fuck—” Eddie whispered, his pupils were blown wide, his mouth slack. “You’re really… doing this.”

You dragged your fingers along the outline—slowly, deliberately, like you were unwrapping a gift, earning a strangled, wrecked noise from him.

“Is this okay?” you murmured.

He nodded, voice lost.

“I want to make you feel good,” you whispered.

He reached out—like he didn’t know whether to stop you or pull you closer—but he stopped himself when your lips brushed over the thick outline of him, teasing with every slow drag of your mouth. You nuzzled your nose against the heavy bulge, humming softly like you were getting to know it, testing the weight, the girth, the way it twitched for you even without skin-to-skin contact.

Eddie couldn’t believe his fucking eyes. You, on your knees, mouthing at his cock through his sweats like it was the best thing in the world, that was the most glorious sight he’d ever seen.

“I—Y-you…” Eddie stammered, his words breaking apart as his brain tried to keep up.

Your only answer was another slow press of your mouth against his cock, your tongue dragging along the fabric now, a wet spot blooming as you licked him through the cotton.

Before he could say anything else, you were already sliding his waistband down, already pressing a kiss to his thigh. His cock sprang free, flushed and leaking, beautiful and so hard it looked like it hurt, you kissed just beside it, inhaling the scent of him. His tip was already glistening with precum, and you made a soft, appreciative sound in your throat, like you’d just been handed dessert.

“You looked like it,” you said, smirking as you leaned in just a little.

Eddie blinked. “L-Like what?” he asked, voice cracking just enough to betray the panic brewing beneath his skin.

“Like you had a huge cock.”

Eddie’s breath hitched, eyes going wide.

“DO NOT COME LOOKING FOR ME—I’M DEAD,” Venom wailed dramatically inside his head. “I HAVE ASCENDED. I AM GONE. BURY ME WHERE I FELL.”

You licked a slow stripe up the side of his cock and his whole body jolted like he’d been electrocuted, you soothed him with a kiss to the head, one hand stroking his shaft while the other pressed gently on his thigh to hold him still.

“SHE HAS NO BUSINESS LOOKING THAT GOOD WITH YOUR DICK IN HER MOUTH!” Venom snarled, somewhere between horrified and deeply impressed.

Eddie clenched his jaw, trying his hardest to drown out Venom’s relentless voice echoing inside his head, all he wanted was to focus on the wonderful, intoxicating feeling of your mouth on him, so warm, wet, and impossibly good.

You moved your tongue with just the lightest pressure, just the tip of it tracing up and down his swollen head. His cock was so sensitive, leaking more precum every second, and every time your tongue swirled over the slit, his whole body shook

“Fuck, you’re good at this,” he mumbled breathlessly.

“I’m just getting started,” you whispered.

“HA. She’s going to kill you. You’re going to die from horny.”

Eddie twitched in the seat, knuckles white as he gripped the edge, eyes barely open and glazed with need.

“You’re so sensitive,” you cooed. “Is this too much?”

He whimpered. “Yes—No—Maybe—don’t stop, please.”

You kissed him again, licked the precum off his slit, and wrapped your hot and wet mouth around him. Eddie’s whole body shuddered, his hand flew to your hair, not to push you down or guide your movements—just to hold on, to anchor himself. His knuckles turned white in your hair, his jaw hung open, he made a sound like he was dying.

“SHE IS GLORIOUS.”

“Ff-fuck—” he whispered.

He was sensitive and desperate, you could tell, every flick of your tongue made his thighs tense, every sound from your mouth made him tremble. You moaned around him like you were the one getting head, and he cursed again, hips jerking like he couldn’t help it.

Venom was purring like a damn engine. “I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU’VE DEPRIVED ME FROM THIS FEELING FOR SO LONG. THIS IS BETTER THAN BRAINS. WE ARE NEVER LETTING HER GO.”

“Shut up, just—shut—” Eddie started muttering to Venom under his breath, eyes squeezed shut.

You looked up at him, cock still warm and wet in your mouth, brow furrowed in confusion.

“I-I said—I said it feels so good,” he stammered again, trying to recover, but his voice sounded rough and desperate.

You sucked him in inch by inch, tongue working along the underside, feeling every twitch, every pulse of heat. He was thick, stretching your lips, hitting the back of your throat before you pulled back to swirl your tongue around the tip.

You pulled back just far enough to speak, breath hot on his spit-slick cock. “Good?”

He nodded, frantically, not trusting himself to speak. His whole body was a twitching mess, like he couldn’t stop his body from reacting.

“Marry her. Now. While she’s still gagging on your cock. Best time to ask.” Venom demanded, while Eddie was already dying inside.

His grip tightened, his hips bucked the tiniest bit, chasing the heat of your mouth. You let him, you wanted him wild, you wanted him wrecked. Your mouth was taking him with purpose, pulling off just to spit on the head and swirl your tongue around it, looking up with eyes that borderlined on pornographic.

Your mouth slid down over his balls, licking one and then the other, before sucking them into your mouth one at a time. While your mouth showered one with attention, your hand massaged the other one softly.

"Jesus Christ—That's—"

You moved back to his cock, which was in need for attention. You shoved it deep in your throat until your nose was buried in the hairs that decorated his pelvis. You held yourself there, letting him feel the heath of your throat clenching around him as you bobbed your head in long strokes.

“Shit—I’m gonna—”

“NO. DON’T YOU DARE, EDDIE. BE A MAN AND HOLD IT. I WANT TO KEEP FEELING IT.”

You didn’t stop, didn’t want to, you wanted to swallow every last drop, and so you sucked him deeper, letting spit drip down your chin, your eyes locked on his as you kept taking him to the hilt, hands cupping his slick balls. He cursed so loudly it echoed, and you just stared up at him hungry, needy, desperate, like you were begging him without a single word. Begging him to give it to you, to give you that hot, aching load straight down your throat.

“Don’t blow it, Eddie. Just a little more,” Venom pleaded, his voice thick with urgency and hunger.

"Holy shit—I ca’nt—I’m gonna—fuck, I can’t hold it!"

But Eddie was already too far gone, every nerve screaming, every muscle trembling, completely unable to hold back even if he wanted to. And when he came—hard, shaking, gasping your name—you swallowed his cum down like he was the sweetest thing you’d ever tasted. Hot and thick on your tongue, your mouth full of him, your hands holding his trembling thighs steady while he came undone for you. You didn’t let a drop escape, you kept sucking until he whimpered.

He collapsed back, dazed and ruined like he’d never been before.

“SHE SWALLOWED IT! DID YOU SEE THAT?” Venom roared triumphantly inside Eddie’s head, practically bouncing with excitement. “THAT WAS SO MUCH BETTER THAN YOUR NASTY HAND, EDDIE.”

You kissed your way up his chest and curled beside him on the couch, lips brushing his ear.

“OH HOLY GOD,” Venom howled in his mind. “SHE’S PERFECT. SHE’S A KEEPER. WE ARE CLAIMING HER. CLAIM HER NOW. MATE FOR LIFE—”

You looked at him—lips swollen, eyes dark, smile lazy and warm. “Was that good?”

Eddie stared at you. Still panting, still stunned.

“Y—yeah. Jesus. Yeah.” He blinked at the ceiling. “What year is it.”

You chuckled softly, “I was thinking,” you whispered, “maybe next time… you could return the favor.”

Eddie made a strangled noise. His cock gave a sudden twitch, still half-hard.

Venom roared. “YES. YES. NEXT TIME IS NOW.”

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A/N: Sooo, this was my first Eddie fic, hope you enjoyed it! If you did, please consider showing some support🫶🏻🩷

Eddie Brock girlies, get behind me🤺 this one was made especially for you. I’m planning to write more Eddie x Neighbor!Reader one-shots for that 20% who wanted Eddie fics.

Felt like I needed to give @mani-pedro a shoutout for suggesting the idea of Eddie wearing the thong (genius).

tag: @katssecretdiary

Cold Autumn air cut through your suite like a knife. Swinging around the city as the sun went down, checking for any sign of mischief. Catching a glimpse of one of your partners in an alleyway. Deciding to check-in on him and see what was going on.

You crawled slowly down the wall behind him. Sneaking up to see if maybe there was something he was hiding.

"I know you're there," his deep voice rumbled in your ears.

Venom. An alien symbiote. Vigilante by night. Not entirely sure who his human vestige was underneath. Always curious, but never willing to ask.

You hopped off the wall with a sigh. Landing directly behind him, "Your senses are getting better."

"I can always smell you coming," he chuckled with a grin on his face. Your cheeks flushed under your mask. There always was a hint of flirtation between the two of you. You jokingly sniffed your armpit, “Do I really smell that bad?”

Venom scoffed, “Of course not.” A small sting of embarrassment on his tone. Like something deep inside him did not want to offend you.

You felt your senses go into overdrive. Whipping your head around in the direction you were being called to. Leading your gaze into the small view of the streets you had from the alleyway. Hearing the familiar laugh of the villain you had been tracking for weeks now.

“Come on,” you instructed him as you thwipped a web up, pulling yourself higher. Landing on top of the building surrounding you. Staring at the new machine they created. A giant vessel holding some colorful liquid on its back. Giant legs hoisting it up as it rampaged down the streets. Clamping down on cars and throwing them into buildings.

You and Venom diving down head first into the battle. Venom stopping the newly thrown car mid air before it struck a mother and her child. Your webs wrapping themselves around the arms of the machine, pulling and pinning them backwards. The villain shooting a dreadful look at you.

“So this is what you’ve been up to? Thought you were just scared to see me,” you mocked as you shot webs against the arms, pinning it to the ground.

“Pesky bug!” They shouted at you, fingers rapidly pressing buttons on the board of the machine. Watching as a canon extended from the back of it. Feeling your senses tingle every end of your nerves.

“VENOM! WATCH OUT!” You called out as you swung over to your partner. Attempting to shield him from whatever attack was coming from the villain. Your body moving without thinking to his defense.

Gas poured from the cone-shaped end. Surprising you that a missile of some kind didn’t fire out. Thick smog filled the entire street you were in. Fogging up your vision and burning your nose.

You both coughed as the dust coated the insides of your noses and throats.

"What the hell was that?!" Venom growled, noticing the villain had disappeared in front of you.

"I have no idea," you coughed out, "I don't feel any different. Not noticing any physical changes."

"Maybe it was just a distraction," Venom groaned frustrated that you had let them get away. Slamming his giant fist into the nearby concrete. Quiet cursed grumbled under his breath as he jumped back to the ground. You followed closely behind, shooting a web and sliding down it. Feeling a ting in your heart for him.

Walking over and flattening your hand against his back, “We’ll get them next time.”

The monster sighed.

Your chest jumped. The growl on his voice vibrating through your entire body. You swallowed heavy as you awkwardly removed your hand from him. His white eyes looking over his shoulder at you. Widening when they met yours.

“I’ve got to go,” Venom forced his head forward. Rushing off from you. Somewhere you were unsure of. An abrupt end to your nightly routine.

You headed home. Swinging along the large glass buildings in your city. Jumping down a hidden part of the alley next to your apartment. Grabbing your bag you had hid and changing clothes.

Your body went through the familiar motions as you walked up to your apartment. A haze around your vision, your mind somewhere else entirely. Unsure why you felt what you were, but focusing on the one thing that cleared up your fog.

Venom.

Your large alien partner in crime. Well— stopping crime. Ever since you had parted ways after your failed face off today, he was the only thing you could focus on. How gentle he always was with you, his deep voice, how effortlessly flirty he was with you during your endeavors, his tongue—

Oh God.

You felt every last vein in your body run hot. Tingling spreading from between your thighs throughout your body. Fumbling as you tried to get your key in the lock, hunching over at the deep sensation taking over your body. Your breath hitched in your throat.

- click -

Fuck, finally.

You stormed into your apartment. Arms wrapped around your chest. Your clothes feeling extra tight. Sweat bubbled along your body. You fanned yourself with your hands. Rushing into your kitchen to open the freezer. Cool air persisting your sudden sweats. Nothing was cooling you off.

You stumbled down your hallway as your core throbbed, an unspeakable feeling seizing your figure. Grabbing the box fan from the closet. Hurrying into the living room and plugging it in. Slumping against your couch directly in front of the fan. Growing agitated at the feeling swirling deep inside you. Unsure how to calm it.

A loud knock at your door made you sit completely up.

Why didn't your spider-sense warn you?

Walking over to look through the peephole. A man with a beard wearing a black leather jacket stood before your door. Not someone you had recognized before. Something inside you begged for you to open the door.

"Hello?"

The man awkwardly smiled at you. A hint of sweat on his forehead. "Uh- Yeah, hi," his eyes darted around the stairwell.

"Can I help you?"

"I think you can actually," he sighed, seeming like there was something he wanted to say. You could see his tongue moving around in his mouth as if he was feeling out the words before saying them.

Suddenly, black ooze began morphing around his arm. Quickly taking the shape of Venom's head in front of you. "We need to come in now," Venom insisted. Your body instinctively moved out of the way allowing them inside.

"How did you find where I live?"

"Do you feel it too?"

You blushed. Completely overtaken by the smell of him. The musky cologne mixed with the sweat on his skin. How his plump lips begged you to plant yours against them. The way his dark eyes stared into yours.

When you suddenly realized. He was feeling the same way you had been all afternoon. The deep burning inside you. The way your body ached and craved another. One that you could not put a finger on until now. It was him.

"Yes," you breathlessly said. Following close behind him.

"I told you so," Venom hissed in the man's face. He held up a hand, pushing him away from his face. "I'm Eddie by the way," he smiled at you, "We've kinda knew each other through some costumes before now." You returned his smile. Feeling a connection to him beyond understanding. Almost like you had known him forever.

“So— uh… guess we need to talk about this? It had to be whatever that psycho sprayed us with earlier. I’m not exactly sure what the side effects are, but I’ve been feeling—“

“Aroused?” Venom blatantly asked, embarrassing his human half. Eddie reached out attempting to cover Venom’s mouth. Pink decorating his cheeks at the aliens lack of social skills. Both of you sharing in your color filled facing.

“Sorry about him—“

“No— No I think he’s right,” you walked over to Eddie and Venom. Locking eyes with Eddie. Both of your bodies instinctively meeting each other. His hands splaying around your lower back, your arms wrapping around his neck. A warmth rising between you. Spreading throughout your body from where his hands met your skin.

“Have you been feeling it too, Eddie?”

His tongue came out to wet his lip. Dark eyes examining your face, pupils blown in lust. A sigh of a “yes” falling from him as he leaned in to plant his lips on yours. Tenderly you kissed back and forth. Tongues exploring each other’s mouths. Soft groans sharing between kisses. Taste of your shared saliva filling your senses.

Eddie’s kisses turned hungry. One hand roaming up your body to tangle in your hair, deepening your connected mouths. He led you backwards, the back of your legs hitting the couch. Bending as you sat back, Eddie’s arms pinned on either side of your head. Your lips parting as you stared at each other. Black pupils stared into yours. Feeling yourself grow lost in his presence. Needing him all over you.

“You smell delicious,” Venom’s deep voice huffed into your ear from behind. Turning your head to meet his gaze. Not even noticing he had crept up behind you while his host hovered over you. A tentacle of ooze wrapping around your neck and pinning you back against the couch. Ripping the air out of your lungs with his strength. Eddie’s lips kissed along your jawline, “Tell us if you want to stop.” You nodded in acknowledgment.

Your eyes squinted shut as their touches stimulated you. Eddie trailed down your body, knees hitting your floor. Fingers traced the waist of your shorts, playing with the elastic. Deep blue eyes stared up at your arched neck. Pressure left your neck as Venom retreated. Taking a deep breath that had been escaping you. Leaning your gaze forward to meet his eyes.

"May I?" Eddie hooked his finger around your waistband.

"Please-"

Eddie pulled your shorts down your legs. The sensation of his hands barely touching your skin sending shivers through you. He admired the darkened fabric of your panties as your core leaked for him. A goofy grin coming across his face. His hot breath fanned at your clothed entry. He leaned forward planting an open mouth kiss against you. Your hips lunged forward at the sudden contact. His hands gripped your thighs firmly holding you in place. "I'll make you feel good," he promised breathlessly. Eyes fixated on the faint image of your pussy in front of him. The smell of your arousal sending him over the edge. Animal like urges taking over. A strong hand ripped your panties off in one swipe. Eddie's brows raised in shock. Looking up at you with an awkward smile, a faint "sorry" escaping him.

Dipping in, his tongue swiping up your entrance. Your breath growing shaky, head falling onto the back of the couch. Trying your best to let him take control. Dying to grind into his face and ride his tongue. One of your hands tangled in his hair, lacing your fingers through it. A grunt vibrated through you when you pulled his hair a little harder than intended. One of his fingers circled your entrance, coating it in your juices before sliding it inside. Curving it with each slow and long thrust. Eddie's name a loud moan from you.

It rang in their ears. Venom inside Eddie's mind telling him to keep going until he had you a squirming mess. Fueling the fire that burned inside Eddie. His hard-on throbbing and begging to be inside you. Whatever had taken over the two of you stinging his skin. Your taste on his tongue turning him on even more.

Your orgasm was approaching at a rapid pace. Your legs were shaking with the magic Eddie worked on you. You were panting, eyes squinted shut in pure ecstasy. You felt Eddie rocking back and forth differently than before. Looking down to see him humping into your couch while still going down on you. Hot breath hitting your core as he continued sucking on your sensitive nub. Your eyes met, holding together. Eddie's brows contorted slightly, wanting nothing more than to be inside you. You could feel the coil inside you about to unwind. One more curve of Eddie's finger had it washing over you. A loud moan escaping you as you gripped his head for support. Forcing yourself further onto his face.

"That's it," Eddie cooed.

You sighed, your body relaxing into the sofa. Your hole still gripping around his finger post orgasm. Slowly, he removed his finger from you. Huffing as he rested his head against your quivering thigh, a wide grin on his face. Admiring how your chest rose and fell with every harsh breath you took. He held his finger up in front of his face staring at how your orgasm coated his finger. Pushing it between his lips and cleaning it off. Lingering in the taste of you.

"Eddie..."

"Yes?"

"Please, I need you to fuck me," you begged. He sighed heavily. Rising to his feet in front of you. Dropping his jacket from his shoulders, then pulling his shirt off. Undoing his belt and dropping it into the floor. Scooping you up into his arms effortlessly. Strength clearly from his symbiotic partner. "I thought you'd never ask," Eddie smiled at you, kissing your lips. Taking you down the hall where he assumed your bedroom was. Pretending the monster in his mind was not leading him to the area strongest of your scent. That's how Venom had taken him here to begin with. When they both were overcome with a desire they could not relieve themselves. The symbiote begged Eddie to allow him to go to you. You were what they desired.

Eddie sat you onto your feet, hands grazing up your sides as his forehead rested against yours. Lips locking with yours. Tongue exploring your mouth. Hands groped your chest. Pinching at your sensitive nipples through the fabric. Hands finding their way under your shirt, dancing up your back to the clasp of your bra. Fingers effortlessly undoing it. Pulling your shirt and bra off in one clean motion. Lips attaching to the soft skin of your chest. Sucking purple marks into them as his fingers rolled your nipples.

"Your skin is so soft," he moaned into you.

You moaned, grinding your knee into his erection. Hands circling his waist, dipping into the band of his jeans. Playing with his boxer-briefs underneath. Undoing the button and zipper. Hand delving down and wrapping around his thinly clothed cock. Eddie's hips rutted at your touch. Smiling into your skin.

Suddenly you felt yourself get thrown back onto your bed. Nude body on complete display for them. Eddie's wide eyes stared at you. Venom had grown impatient. Deciding he could no longer wait to be inside you.

"I want her now, Eddie," Venom growled in his face.

Eddie dropped his jeans and boxers. Hard cock springing free. You felt your mouth watering at the sight. Spreading your legs, inviting them in. That burn inside you igniting again. He stepped in front of you on the edge of the bed. Hand gripping his erection, pumping it. His brows furrowed, "Not what I need." His head tilted to the side as he eyed your body.

His toned body leaned on top of yours. Muscles flexing as he held himself up, other hand guiding himself at your entrance. Circling your folds with the tip. "Fuck, Eddie," you moaned. Forcing yourself down on him just enough to take his head in. Eddie groaned at the feeling, "Ah- Y/N, goddammit."

Eddie planted a strong kiss against yours lips as he sheathed himself inside you. Rolling his hips, allowing you to adjust to him. An instant relief overtaking you both. Exactly what you needed.

You felt ooze touching every inch of your body. Venom wrapped himself around you, wanting to feel as close to you as Eddie was. Stimulating your sensitive body, pinching at your hardened nipples, wrapping around your wrists and interlocking with your fingers. Far more intimate than you thought he was capable of. "Pretty thing," his voice boomed inside your ears.

Eddie continued his thrusts inside you. Face contorted at the relief he felt. Your insides cooling the burn he had been feeling. Walls coaxing him further inside you, practically sucking him in. Needing him all over you. Loving the attention Venom was giving you. The symbiote finding his way down to your clit. Circling it.

Your back arched. Moaning loudly at the feeling. Overstimulation taking over your senses. Losing yourself as Eddie's cock hit the spongey spot inside you that had you seeing stars. Breath hitching in your throat as your eyes rolled back into your head. Your cunt contorted around his member as they got you closer to your edge.

"I could fuck you forever," Eddie groaned as he leaned down closer to you. Lips tangling together as your wrapped your arms and legs around him. Pulling your bodies flush together. Venom spreading across both your bodies. Connecting you more than you had ever been with anyone else. You began meeting Eddie's thrusts with your own. Needing him to fill you up.

"Want us to breed you?" Venom licked his lips, "Dirty girl..."

You and Eddie's eyes locked. Lust blown pupils staring into each other. Both your mouths hung open, sharing the same air. He cocked an eyebrow at you, asking the same question that Venom had.

"Cum inside me, Eddie," you moaned, breath escaping you as he thrusted harder into you.

Hips snapped into you. Harsh and sloppy thrusts. Venom continued circling your sensitivity in an attempt to get you both to finish at the same time.

"Come on, Eddie," Venom snarled, "Fill her cunt up."

Eddie's face rested in the crook of your neck as he searched for both your highs. Grunting with each snap of his hips. "Yo-You have the per-perfect pussy," Eddie praised you as he felt your walls begin to tighten around him.

You came undone around him. Walls spasming around his cock. Pushing him over his own edge. Eddie shot hot up inside you, coating your walls with his seed. Pushing himself as deep inside you as he could get. His body twitched with each rope he shot into you. Lips kissing your skin.

Eddie slumped his body onto yours unable to remove himself from your warmth. Savoring the feeling of you wrapped around him. Your hands rubbed his back, nails scratching at his skin. Hesitantly, Eddie rolled off of you. Pulling himself out. The mixture of juices inside you spilling out. Venom forcing it all back inside you.

You rested against his chest. The fire inside you finally subsiding. Both of your chests heaved with deep breaths. Bodies having been worked.

"You can stay here," you sighed.

"We would love that," Eddie kissed your head.

~

[END]

// Thank you so much for reading! It feels so nice to return to the character who originally got me writing so much on this blog. I've missed these two so much. My inbox is always open for requests. If you want to be tagged in the future let me know! //

{tags}

“You want me to write a what?” You look at Ruben, who's sitting across the hotel bar table. You blink slowly over your half-empty drink.

“A book,” he repeats. “A Sonny Hayes comeback story. Full access, travel with the team, track to track. All of it.” You narrow your eyes. 

“Why me?” Ruben leans back in the booth, nursing his whisky like he’s just been waiting for that question.

“Because you’re smart, talented, and,” he adds, glancing over the rim of his glass, “You’ve got a pretty face. Sonny’s got a type. You? You’re it.”

“So I’m bait.” Ruben grins at your response.

“Think of it as motivation. The man’s been out of F1 for years. You really think a data chart’s going to convince him to put on a suit again? No. He needs a reason.” This could be career-defining for you. A high-profile, raw, behind-the-scenes look at one of F1’s most chaotic legends? You tell him you'll think about it.

To Ruben, that's enough for him to talk to Sonny. 

“She's not media. She's not gonna shove a camera in your face at every available moment.” Sonny squints, scepticism in his eyes. His jaw is tight, and his arms are folded across his chest.

“So, who is she?”

“She’s writing a book.” Ruben says with a smile. “Your book. About the comeback and about what it’s like to return after years.” Sonny raises a brow. “She’s also fucking stunning, by the way. In case you needed a little extra incentive.” Sonny sighs, head tilting back.

“Christ. Are you hiring a publicist or a cover girl?” Ruben holds his hands up in surrender.

“If she's able to make you curious and get you driving, I'm not above playing to your weaknesses.”

“You’re a real piece of work.” Sonny laughs, a grin on his lips.

“But you’re listening” Ruben replies. Sonny shakes his head. Is he really considering it?

“When's she gonna get here?”

Ruben doesn’t waste a second, pulling out his phone and texting you. 

Ruben: Pack your bags.

You: He said yes? Just like that? 

Ruben: Not exactly, but he didn't say no.

You softly laugh and put your phone aside wondering if you were really gonna do this when another text comes through.

Ruben: Wear something that makes him forget he ever said he was done.

The next day you're walking into APXGPs factory, your heels echoing against the tiles. You spot the two men in the lobby area, just off to the side. You walk closer, Sonny's eyes on yours the whole time. At first he doesn't say anything; he just looks. He takes a step towards Ruben. 

“I'll drive” Although you didn't hear what he said, Rubens grin was spoiling it. Sonny finally turns his attention to you, offering a hand.

“Ready to get started?” You take his hand, feeling the strength in his grip.

“More than ready”

Pre-season passed in a blur. You had a few interviews with him at the factory or his house. From the start he wasn’t afraid to flirt –He called you sweetheart before your first full interview even started. He would lean back in his chair, legs spread, with that cocky smirk. He’d compliment your perfume and your clothes.

By the time the first few races rolled around, it wasn’t just words. He started greeting you with hugs, his hands warm against your lower back. During interviews, he’d sit closer than necessary –knees brushing under the table. 

On a windy day in the paddock, you were mid-question when he reached over and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. His knuckles grazed your cheek as he pulled back. You looked at him, your lips parted just enough for shallow breaths to pass.

Every weekend, the gap between professional and personal grew a little smaller, and every weekend, you stopped caring just a little bit more.

It was heading towards the midseason break. Sonny had been on the podium twice but never on that top step. 

At the Hungarian GP he got 2nd place due to a stupid penalty; he was so close to building the gap he needed, less than one second. Having that before heading into the break made him more eager, he had no doubts now that he and the car were capable enough.

The team decided to go for dinner on Sunday night to unwind and at the end of the night, Sonny suggested you walk back to the hotel. Your rooms were next to each other. When you opened your door you leant against the frame, facing him.

“Three weeks off” He murmured “You’re gonna miss me so much, aren’t you?” You giggle at him and that stupid smirk.

“Care for one more interview before that?” You step back, further into your apartment, holding the door open and he followed. You grab your recorder and settle into the armchair opposite him. "Last race before the break" you start, keeping your voice light. "How are you feeling heading into the second half of the season?"

“Confident. I’m ready to win. Would’ve won today if it wasn’t for that bullshit penalty” You nod along, listening to him. A few more questions pass –simple ones with simple answers. You glance down at your notes, then back up. 

“Do you have any regrets?”

“Yeah” he says quietly. “Just one.” You raise your brow prompting him to go further. The pause stretches long enough that you think he might dodge the question.

“Sonny?” He stands up, taking a step to close the gap between you. His hand comes up, fingers brushing your jaw and he makes you look up at him.

“My regret is not doing this sooner” Then he leans over and his mouth is on yours. It’s practically perfect; you lean into it, your lips working together. He pulls back just enough to look at you, and that's when you realise what you did.

“Shit.” You stand up and step back. “Oh my God” You run your fingers through your hair. You begin to basically pace around and you shake your head before looking back at him. “That was… I can’t believe, Sonny, we can’t” He doesn’t move, he just watches you with an amused grin. “This is completely unprofessional. You’re– Fuck! You’re older, and I’m supposed to be documenting your comeback, not…” You gesture vaguely towards the space between you.

“You done?” His eyes glance over you.

“Don’t do that. Don’t stand there like this isn’t a problem.” He raises his hands. 

“What’s the problem then?”

“Are you joking?” You look away briefly before looking back. “I’m writing about your career, Sonny. I’ve been shadowing you for months. If anyone finds out they’ll say I got with you to get ahead. That I used you. That I wanted fame.”

“Fuck them.” He shrugs like it's easy and you stare at him. 

“You can’t just say that.”

“Why not? People will always talk. Let them!” You let out a soft, quick laugh. 

“It's not the same for you and me. I’m just starting out. One headline like that and I’m done. I don’t get to be reckless.” He closes the space between you. 

“Tell me the truth,” he says “Take them out of it. Take everything out of it –your job, the book, the media. Just you and me, right now.” His eyes stay on yours. “Do you want this?” You can feel his breath ghosting over your skin. You take the chance; you grab the front of his shirt and pull him closer. Your lips meet his again. His hands find your hips grabbing them firmly. He walks backwards, guiding you with him. When he feels the couch with his legs he sits down, pulling you down to straddle his lap. 

Your dress hikes up as you settle into his lap, bunching at your hips. His hands waste no time, spreading over your bare skin. Your fingers slip into his hair, curling at the nape of his neck as you kiss him harder. He runs his hands up your thighs until they're on your ass, squeezing gently. In reply you grind your hips, feeling his growing erection straining against the fabric of his jeans. Sonny’s mouth breaks from yours, his lips brushing along your jaw before trailing hot kisses down your neck.

“You feel that?” He murmurs. “That’s what you do to me. Every fucking weekend.” His fingers begin to toy with the waistband of your panties, lightly snapping it on your skin. He dips them beneath the lace, running two digits between your folds.

“Christ” He says under his breath as he continues to slowly run his fingers up and then down.

“Sonny, please-” He pulls his fingers out and brings them to his mouth, sucking them clean.

“You taste like sin” His eye contact makes you feel nervous, let alone his dirty words. “Take it off.” You grab the silky material of your dress, pulling it over your head before you get off of his lap, pulling your panties down. Sonny leans back, eyes roaming shamelessly. “Fuck”

Unsure of what to do you move back towards him but he quickly stands, telling you to sit down. He guides you onto the couch, and so you’re as flat on your back as you can be. He kneels between your legs, and his fingers trail along your inner thighs. When he reaches the top his hands grab your hips pulling you closer. He plants a soft kiss on the inside of your knee.

“You have no idea what you do to me” He kisses higher. First one thigh, then the other, all the way up. 

His eyes flick up, watching you breathe, watching your chest rise and fall, your bottom lip caught between your teeth, and he couldn't help but smirk.

“You don't know what you're doing to me, sweetheart, lying here, spread out for me.”

“Sonny… please.” Your voice shakes a little. He chuckles softly, the sound sending a shiver through you. He gives you a single, slow stroke of his tongue that makes your back arch off the couch.

“Fuckin soaked for me” Your hips shift up, desperate for more. 

“So stop teasing” He does it again. Slower. You bite down on a moan, not wanting to give him that much satisfaction right away. He flattens his tongue and begins with long, steady strokes –not too fast, and not too light but he’s not rushing towards your orgasm. He’s drawing it out. Tasting you. Learning you.

When his lips wrap around your clit, you cry out, one hand flies down to tangle your fingers in his hair. He presses his hands against your hips, keeping you still as he devours you, his tongue flicking, circling, and sucking your clit.

“Fuck– Sonny” you breathe, and he just groans in response, sending vibrations straight through your core.

“You’ll get what you need. Let me enjoy this.” and before you can reply his mouth is back on you. He can tell how close you’re getting, so he moves one hand up to your chest, pinching at your nipples, and with the other he presses two fingers into you —slowly, deeply, curling them just right. Your back arches off the couch in an automatic response. He thrusts his fingers a little faster and his tongue flicks back and forth in merciless strokes. 

That's all it takes.

Your orgasm rips through you, pulling a sob from your lips as your thighs clamp around his head. He groans again at the feel of you coming undone, working you through every pulse, breath, and whimper that spills out of you. It becomes too much, your body trembles, and he only pulls away when you’re squirming from the overstimulation. Your fingers weakly tug at his hair; he eases off with a final kiss. When he looks up, his mouth is glistening.

“You alright?” he asks, his voice thick, his thumb rubbing slow circles over your hipbone. You nod at him. He stands up, stripping off his shirt revealing his toned, tanned skin and scattered tattoos. He works on his belt and zipper, and his cock jolts up when he pushes his jeans and boxers down. He’s thick and longer than other men you’ve been with, you can't help the way your lips part slightly. He strokes himself slowly while looking at you. 

“I’m clean, and on the pill” you say quickly, wanting to feel only him. He adjusts how you're laying, more horizontal with the couch, then he’s above you. He drags the head of his cock through your folds, nudging your entrance. 

“Please Sonny” Your voice is soft and airy. He pushes in, slowly, stretching you inch by inch. You fingers wrap around his bicep as he fully sinks in, you feel like you’re being split open in the best way possible.

“Fuck,” he grits out, forehead resting against yours for a moment. “Such a tight pussy” Your walls pulse around him, clenching instinctively. He pulls out halfway, then pushes back in with a slow thrust that drags a moan from your lips. His hips roll in deep strokes, making your toes curl. Your legs wrap around his waist, heels digging into his lower back, trying to get him even deeper. He thrusts again, harder this time. When you moan for him, and he does it again.

“You like that, sweetheart? You like how deep I am?” You can’t even speak, you just nod. He hooks one of your legs over his shoulder and the new angle is devastatingly good. His cock hits a spot inside you that makes your vision blur and he keeps getting it –again and again.

“Cum for me, sweetheart. I wanna feel it. Come on, give it to me.” He coos gently. You tighten around him. “That’s it!” Your whole body locks up as you cum and you sob out his name. 

“Shit, Baby!” Sonny’s losing control. He grips your hips, his thrusts becoming ragged and frantic before he buries himself one last time. You can feel his cock pulsing as he finishes deep inside of you. He lets your leg back down and leans down to kiss you. 

You don’t move for a long while. You just give yourself time to enjoy the aftermath of a perfect moment. Sonny shifts just enough to kiss the corner of your mouth, then your jaw, then beneath your ear.

“You okay?”

“Better than…” A giggle leaves your lips “I can’t believe we did that. I promise that was not part of the plan.”

“No?” There’s a teasing smile tugging at his lips like he knew this is how it was gonna go. “You sure? Because you’ve been giving me those eyes since Melbourne.”

“Those eyes?”

“Yeah,” he grins. “The ‘I want you, but I’m pretending this is a professional working relationship’ eyes.”

“You’re delusional”

“Sweetheart” he says, dipping his head to kiss you. “You let me talk about tire compounds for forty minutes like it was foreplay.” You swat at his chest. 

“I was being professional! Getting context”

“You knew I was trouble when you signed up for this”

“I thought you were ‘old, grumpy, retired trouble’. Not ‘Hot hotel couch sex’ trouble.” He laughs, kissing you again before gently pulling out. Sonny sits on the couch and you sit up, not leaving much space between you. His eyes flick to the coffee table, catching a small red glow from your audio recorder.

“Hey” he says, voice playful but curious. “Does that mean it’s still recording?”

 “Oh, shit” You lean over to grab it. “That’s the most unprofessional interview ever recorded.” You both laugh as you turn it off, placing it back on the table.

“Can I get a copy of that unprofessional masterpiece?” You raise an eyebrow, smirking.

“What are you planning to do with it?”

“Depends on how motivated it makes me.” He shrugs casually.

“Could be my secret weapon for the comeback.” You shake your head at him.

“You can have it after round two” You stand up and head towards the bathroom. His eyes glance over your body like he’s trying to memorise it.

“Someone’s eager.”

“Don’t get too cocky. You still have to earn it.” You flash him a playful smile over your shoulder.

The room is luxurious in a sophisticated, if minimalist, sort of way—a broad bed with a white duvet and half a dozen pillows, a long desk of glossy polished wood, and soft lighting from the blown-glass sconces hung along the otherwise stark white walls. It’s on one of the higher floors, and the windows look out over the cityscape. You briefly admire the view while the sun sets before noticing several boxes laid out for you on the bed. Prada. Bottega Veneta. Next to the window, a garment bag lies draped over the quilted leather armchair. The sleek, all-caps sans-serif typeface says Givenchy.

Whatever stylists Harry had hired at Bloomingdale's or Saks had really outdone themselves. The clutch, the jewelry, and the shoes are all to your taste. You wonder what intimate details he’d shared with them. How might he describe your aesthetic? Loud but refined? The very idea has you laughing. Maybe they’d scrolled through your social media? They must have because the gown is absolutely perfect, too. Tight in the bodice with a loose flowing skirt. 

Taking three hours to get ready is probably overkill. But when do you ever do this back home? A long, hot shower relaxes you slightly, the clay scrub softening your skin. You dry your hair upside down so it’ll be bouncier—more voluminous than you usually wear it. Winnie had lent you a curling iron, so you work on creating some waves. 

You’d contemplated her offer of getting a bikini wax at the salon but ultimately decided against it. That might be more tenderness than you can bear.  Instead, you use the electric clippers to trim everything neatly. Then, step into a pair of lace panties. No bra.

Last summer, you bought a very expensive bottle of perfume from this atelier shop in Portland while visiting a friend who described the fragrance as sensual. It’s warm, sweet, and spicy–like citrus and caramel. The scent might as well say fuck me out loud.

Tonight is the first time you’ve ever worn it. 

You apply makeup like the guy at the Mac store taught you, the way you almost never bother with. Most days, mascara and tinted lip balm are enough. Tonight, you go with a 60s cat-eye and shimmery blush that contours your cheekbones. The lipstick you wear is matte red.

Clutch tucked under your arm, you stand in front of the mirror, trying to see yourself as Harry will see you from across the room. It’s all so glamorous. You feel sexy and magnificent for what feels like the first time in forever. Hopefully, Harry will think so, too. 

You can’t wait to see his face when you step off the elevator.

But the handsome man waiting for you in the hotel lobby is not Harry Castillo. 

“Hey Jim,” you say, taking in the way he fills out his smartly tailored black suit. “How have you been? You look amazing.”

He waves the compliment away before pulling you into a one-armed hug. “Quit smoking a few years back.”

“Good for you!” You say with real enthusiasm, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek above the trim beard. Jim’s gone gray since the last time you saw him. “Better late than never.”

“You look absolutely stunning, as always.” Jim extends his arm to escort you out to the car. He’s a thoughtful and observant man. One who understands your disappointment when your gaze sweeps up and down the street, expecting to see Harry. 

“He’s on a call,” he says gently before opening the car door for you.

Inside the town car, Harry reaches out a hand to help you settle onto the wide bench in the back seat. His eyes go wide and grow warm, mouthing how gorgeous you look while his iPhone remains pressed tightly to his ear. Your smile falters a little.

“Yeah—yeah. Delmar’s using the office parks as collateral, so—exactly.”

He’s dressed more casually than you expected. Charcoal gray slacks cut perfectly to accentuate the taper of his waist and muscular thighs. But he’s wearing a turtleneck under the jacket of his sumptuous wool suit. Not black tie. It draws attention upward, towards his face. His breathtakingly beautiful face. All angular lines—thick brows, sharp nose, and strong jaw, softened by his enticing smile. 

Although you hadn’t noticed him moving, he seems to have edged closer to you. Your knees are nearly touching now. 

“Just give the man what he wants.”

It’s frustrating having to be patient and wait for his full attention, but this is how he affords the designer gowns and parkside view apartment.  

You take a deep breath and close your eyes, willing yourself to be calm. It works until you open them. And then you see the way he’s looking at you—the sudden heat. Your body responds powerfully. Instinctively. It’s like the sheer force of his desire is enough to quicken your pulse. To make your skin tingle with the expectation of being touched.

This man is sexy as hell. And tonight, he’s all yours. 

Or should be.

“Well, I don’t know Greg. Offer him ten percent.” 

You’re glad he likes the dress and the way you look. But Harry is the gorgeous one. Like no one else, you think as you unbutton his blazer—pausing only to let him shift the phone to his other ear before you slip your hand over his stomach. The firmness of his abdominals, the unreal disparity between the broadness of his shoulders and his taut, trim waist, even those warm brown eyes—Harry is extraordinary. Anyone would want him desperately.

You do. 

Harry extends his arm along the back of the seat. You expect him to draw you into a placating embrace, but he doesn’t put his arm around you. Instead, he brushes the curve of your bare shoulder with his fingertips. The touch sets you on fire. 

Then he raises a finger and wags it at you. “Nuh-uh,” you watch him mouth wordlessly. “Be good.”

Jealousy is often perceived as something ugly in women. But jealousy doesn’t make you agonized or resentful. It sparks your competitive nature. Someone else was competing for Harry’s attention, and you are determined to come out on top. To make yourself his highest priority.   

Your hand drifts down his stomach, and between his thighs, where you press your palm against his cock. Harry bites his lower lip, stifling an incredulous laugh.

God, he’s so thick. You marvel at the sheer size of him every time. 

Growing flustered, he huffs into the phone, his cock jumping slightly at your touch. The pressure is evident even through the soft wool of Harry’s trousers. You start moving your hand back and forth—the smallest, slowest strokes. 

This time, Harry lifts your hand away, grinning and shaking his head. 

“Did you run it against the SEC filings?” he asks, his voice maddeningly calm, as if he were merely observing this instead of wanting it as much as you do. Only the long, thick swelling down the leg of his pants betrays his arousal.

But he knows this is a game now. One, you intend to win.

So you slip off your heels and roll forward onto your knees, situating yourself on the floor of the car, between his thighs, before leaning forward to press your cheek against his throbbing erection. 

Harry says nothing, though he’s watching you avidly. His professionalism at war with his desire. And his desire is spiking higher and hotter as he watches you rub and nuzzle his cock with your face. He bites down on both lips to muffle his groans of pleasure. You gaze into his eyes, watching the muscles of his jaw working. He breathes out hard and lets his head slump back.

“Gotta be honest with you, Greg, I’m losing interest in this conversation.” Harry’s broad hand strokes the length of your back, the sequins on your dress make a silvery sound against his palms.

Sitting back on your heels, you grip his knees and let your fingers drift up his thighs until they meet over his belt. You unbutton his fly, the zipper purring as you pull it down. All while staring into his eyes. Watching his pupils dilate. Smiling when he forgets to breathe. Then you reach inside his boxers to draw out the length of his cock. 

It juts up, long and thick for you. And so hot. When you close your hand around it, your reward is the first pre-come, slicking your fingers along with the head of his cock.

“Come on, Greg,” Harry’s voice is tight. Strained. “You don’t need me for this. Do I have to hold your dick while you piss, too?”

You begin tightening and loosening your fist as you move up the length of his shaft. Now down again. You begin using your wrist. He’s hot against your palm and so hard he must be aching.

“Fuck,” he growls.

Suddenly, Harry grabs you roughly by the wrist, and you worry that you’ve pushed him too far. But the look in his brown eyes is smoldering as he lifts your hand to his face and drags his moist tongue from the heel of your thumb to the tips of your fingers, wetting your palm.

Your whole body flushes with heat; your pulse quickens. You feel the clenching waves of arousal slicking your thighs. 

“Yeah, try that, Greg. See what happens to you.”

Twist and grip and stroke, teasing the ridge around the head of his cock. You sweep your tongue dramatically around the circumference of your lips and look up at him in challenge, tilting your head. Harry nods open-mouthed, threading his fingers in your hair. 

You bend over, until his enormous cock is in your face. Parting your lips, you open wide and take him into your mouth, leaving traces of red lipstick along his shaft.

“Oh fuck,” he gasps, finally breaking.

Salty come wells against your tongue, slicking your lips. Slowly, you start sucking—taking little swallows around the head at first so he won’t blow his load. Or this business deal. He visibly struggles for control and wins. A slow smile spreads across his face. 

“More,” Harry sighs, placing a hand over the receiver. He must mean it to sound like an order, but he’s too close to the edge for that. His softest whisper betrays how much he wants it. “More.”

Let him pretend he’s in control. You’ve already given yourself over. 

Soon, you’re hollowing your cheeks, taking deep pulls down the length of his cock. You start using your tongue, circling and licking, as you bob your head up and down. Your thumb and forefinger close around the base of his cock so you can pump him in time with your movements. The come trickling from the corner of your mouth tells you how much he loves it.

Harry changes his approach, muting the phone and placing the call on speaker.

“The board meeting is on Tuesday…” Greg’s voice drones on like white noise, drowned out by the wet pops and squelching sound of your lips moving up and down Harry’s cock. He’s breathing so hard and deep now, you don’t know how he can hear anything else.

“Shit! Yes, I’ll be there.” He bashes the microphone icon on his phone screen with his thumb, “Yes. Yes!”

Then, abruptly, Harry takes control. 

“Mmmph,” the hand in your hair guides you into a rhythm he likes, “Nnnngh, annngh.” Sometimes he pushes no more than the head of his cock into your mouth so that you can suck him fiercely. Then he urges your head down—and with one deep, unforgiving thrust—you gag around him.

“Ha, aah! Fuck, I love it when you choke on my cock,” he says through gritted teeth. “Your throat gets so tight. Makes me think about how tight your pussy is.”

With your eyes closed, you don’t see what he’s doing with his other hand until he begins drawing up the long skirt of your dress. The rustle of silk is the only sound besides your breathing.

You whimper as his hand moves to pull aside your panties, and his fingers push inside you. 

“That’s what I thought,” he groans. “Tight and wet.”

You whimper, the sound muffled by his balls in your mouth.

Then he starts fucking you with his fingers, fast and hard. His thumb finds your clit, rubbing it with every single stroke. You were too hot for him already to endure much of this. You gasp around his cock, and he shivers. Your cry of pleasure vibrates around him, and he makes a low, yearning sound that seems to have been torn from him.

Dizzying pleasure races along your nerves, through your veins, upon your skin. You suck him harder, shamelessly, overcome with the instinct to take all of Harry. All you possibly can. His fingers push in deeper, and you can hear the slick, wet sound of him pumping them in and out.

You take him in deep, your nose brushing against the soft skin of his belly. The pleasure arcs inside, building until it drowns out fear, doubt, or even thought. When you come, it’s like a lightning bolt, one pure surge of energy and heat that turns night to day. You tense and arch into it as orgasm sweeps through you, and that’s all Harry needs.

“Seven thirty. Tuesday. Yeah. Okay. Let me off the goddam call, Greg. I’m coming.”

He tosses the phone aside. That’s right. Eat shit, Gregory.

“Fuck me,” you pant, running your fingers through his dark hair. “Please, Harry, I want you to fuck me.”

You remove the clip from your hair so it falls loose and messy around your face. His gaze drifts downward, where the satin of your gown clings to your soft belly. The low neckline of the dress must reveal how your breasts rise and fall with each breath. You’re breathing so fast and shallow now that you’re starting to get faint. You want him so fucking badly. 

“I need you,” you plead.

Harry breaks. He’s on you in an instant, hands palming your breast through the satin of your dress. The fabric is so thin that it does nothing to veil the heat and friction of his thumb. Nor does it hide how your nipples are hardening, more and more obvious beneath the shimmering neckline. His thumb circles the firm skin, and he grins.

“What’s that? Were you asking me to do something?” 

You sink into Harry’s embrace and feel his lips brush against your mouth. He winds his arms around you, and the kiss intensifies until you’re sharing one breath. Harry’s hands glide up your back, pulling you closer—and to unzip the first few inches of your dress. 

He peels down the bodice, exposing your breasts completely so he can take them in both hands.

“Please,” you beg. Harry likes it when you beg. 

“Please, what?” he teases, as he continues caressing you.

“Please fuck me, Harry. I need you inside me.”

He pushes you down onto the backseat so fast you cry out in involuntary surprise. The car is so wide that you can almost stretch the full length of it. Harry’s rough hands reach beneath the rustling plum skirt of your dress, fingers digging into your thighs as he pries them apart. Your panties stretch enough to allow his fingers to penetrate you, just an inch or two. Your wetness welcomes him, soaking through the thin fabric.

“Take them off,” he says. With trembling hands, you reach beneath the hem of your dress to wriggle out of your underwear. After you let the panties fall to the floor of the car, he whispers. “Now spread yourself for me.”

You let your left leg fall to the side, parting your thighs. Harry angles himself between your legs as he pushes your right knee up so far it’s almost against your chest. “Hold your leg up,” he commands, and then you feel the hard pressure of his cock against your cunt.

You bite down on your bottom lip as he slides inside—inch by inch, until it burns. He stretches you out, opens you wide.

“That’s it,” he groans as he sinks the rest of the way in. “Just like that. Take it. Take it.” 

Then he thrusts harder, filling you completely, and you cry out. He smiles at the sound and rocks his hips back so he can shove inside you again. You wish you could watch his cock slipping in and out, but you can’t. The crumpled folds of your dress are in the way. Instead, you see the muscles of Harry’s abdomen and pelvis working with every thrust, the thatch of dark hair above his cock, the grimace of ecstasy on his face—

Within seconds, you're panting. Within minutes, you're on the brink. 

Harry keeps going, deliberately slow. The tempo quickens without ever actually becoming fast. Every time, he pulls almost all the way out, then plunges in deep. Each time, you have to gasp for breath, caught between pleasure and aching need. You're on fire for him—reeling on the edge of orgasm, but he won’t thrust fast enough for you to come. He’s making this last longer, because he wants to revel in his power over you now that the tables have turned. 

When he does it like this—pushing in inch by inch, making you wait for it—you feel every single sensation. The way your cunt burns as he forces you wider to take him. The wetness around him, your slick heat dampening his thighs. The warmth of his body grows closer until he’s finally buried inside you up to the hilt, and you can feel the heat of his breath against your skin. 

His tongue laps at your nipple, and then he opens his mouth to suck. It only lasts a moment, but that’s long enough to send a surge of pleasure ricocheting through you, from your breasts to your cunt.

You're close. You're so close.

“We can do this all night,” Harry pants, resting his sweat-soaked forehead against your neck. Again, he thrusts so deeply that you clutch at the car seat, your fingernails digging into the leather. “Just drive around the city while I fuck you in the back of the car.”

“Is that a promise or a warning?” you gasp against his throat. 

Harry doesn’t answer at first. Then he cups your face in one hand, rough and possessive, and brings his mouth to yours. His kiss is hard. Insistent. His tongue pushes your lips apart.

When Harry thrusts even deeper inside, the sensation arcs inside you, and you can’t hold it back. The world turns upside down, inside out, and you come, moaning desperately as you clench around Harry’s cock.

Your second orgasm isn’t as strong as the first, but it’s better. Slower. It ripples through you in waves, before claiming your whole body in ecstasy. You bite down on the shoulder of his blazer, and then your cry turns into a scream as you come. Your head swirls in the rush of pure satisfaction, and you writhe beneath him as every muscle of your body surrenders to the intensity of your climax.

Pleasure rolls through you, but it’s not just the release that leaves you trembling. The bliss is dizzying, but it’s his presence. His unwavering attention. It’s looking up to see him watching you, lips parted, gaze reverent.

Like he needs you. You didn’t realize how badly you wanted him to need you like this.

And you wonder if he knows. If he can feel how much it means to you.

Harry just says, “That’s my girl,” in that same maddeningly calm voice.

Then he speeds up, and the only sounds are his heavy breaths, your whimpers, and the wet slap of your bodies. By now, you're limp and dizzy, a completely passive body for him to use.

So he uses you. Harry lifts your pelvis slightly so he can thrust ceaselessly. He drives into you, faster and faster, until he slides in slower, pauses, then goes totally still. He shuts his eyes as his mouth falls open. After he sucks in a couple of deep breaths, Harry pulls out.

“You better swallow all of it, or I’ll make a mess of you.”

When he straddles your chest, you open your mouth, wetting your lips with your tongue. He gently brushes a lock of hair from your sweaty face with one hand while using the other to guide his cock into your mouth.

Within seconds, he’s at the brink. He shouts out, and then he comes, filling your mouth with heat. You swallow deep, drinking him down, every drop.

Harry pulls out. His cock—still half-hard—dangling in front of your face. A thin line of come trickles down the side of your mouth, and Harry’s finger catches it. “There,” he murmurs.

You open your eyes to see him looking down at you like you're the most precious thing he’s ever seen. He smiles at you, “You’re just so beautiful.” 

Pulling you upright beside him, his breathing comes quick and shallow, and you relish the way he’s leaning into you, your bodies wedged against the back seat. Harry folds you in his arms and kisses your temple. It feels like he’s wrapping himself around you to try and shield you both from the world outside. 

But the gallery opening awaits beyond the tinted windows. You pull up the front of your dress, letting Harry bother with the zipper. As you feel around the floorboards, your fingers find your panties, still wet. The heels are easy enough to slip into, but your legs wobble beneath you as you step from the car and walk toward the press line.

“Are you all right?” he says, catching you with an arm around your waist.

You nod. “That was—amazing.”

The laugh lines around his eyes deepen as he chuckles. “Yeah. It was.”

His arm remains draped around your waist, more possessive than protective now.

You reach up, your thumb grazing his mustache as you wipe away a smear of red, then smile and whisper, “There.”

And you let him hold you.

-------------

"Ugh, this dress is so last season! Are you serious? Everything here is out of style—get rid of them! Call Elliot and have them send me another dress, or I'm going to be really pissed!"

As if tossed at you like a used handkerchief, another dress worth thousands of dollars—perhaps only worn once—landed in your hands. You sighed as you looked at the elegant dress you were now holding, the Gucci label glinting under the light.

"Story of my life," you mumbled.

Working as a housekeeper in a millionaire's house was hard enough, but dealing with his spoiled and ill-tempered daughter was exhausting. Yet you were determined that it would soon be over. You could no longer endure this physical and psychological torture. With the money you had saved, you planned to open your own restaurant—fulfilling your dream. You just needed to save a little more and hang in there a bit longer.

Your boss was a decent, kind man, but his daughter was so unbearable that every housekeeper assigned left the next day.

How do you even tolerate her? 

Because you didn’t have the luxury of quitting and waiting for a new job. You were still young and trying to establish yourself in the business. The extra pay you received was simply to endure her antics. Your kind millionaire boss had even promised you all the support you needed, suggesting you could quit your day job and focus solely on managing his daughter’s affairs. But how could you have known it would be so challenging? Still, you managed to get through each day and believed you could endure this for just a little while longer. After all, you had survived three challenging years already, right?

The mansion was enormous, and everything inside was meticulously organized. Everyone—housekeepers, gardeners, cooks, and even the owners—followed a disciplined daily routine. 

Except for the young lady of the house.

You never knew when she would wake up or come downstairs to join her family at the dinner table. She was stubborn, mean, and unpredictable, and you had to manage her behavior just as you managed her dresses, her dates, and her friends. Because you were responsible for her, there were times when you wished you could handle all the housework yourself and let someone else take care of her demands. Despite being just an ordinary housekeeper, your name was the one that echoed the most throughout this vast mansion.

Why? 

Because the young lady constantly called on you to fulfill her never-ending requests. And it was one of those moments again. Since it was evening, you guessed she was probably getting ready for a night out at the club, and you felt a surge of annoyance as you rushed to her room.

"I can't believe I was a size 8 before starting this job; now I'm down to a size 6," you mumbled to yourself, quickly making your way up the stairs.

One of the cleaners dusting the vases in the hallway shot you a wink and let out a sigh. Man, you’d do just about anything to be in her shoes, just taking care of that vase!

As soon as you knocked on the door, the young lady Melanie opened it, pulled you inside by the arm, and slammed the door shut behind you. You were taken aback—had you made a mistake? It had only been two hours since you last saw her; you had picked up her clothes off the floor and taken them to the laundry room. She had seemed content, busy texting on her phone. What could have possibly happened in such a short time?

“Is something wrong?” you asked, your eyes wide. For some reason, she looked super tense and nervous.  

“You’ve gotta help me,” she said almost desperately, which caught you off guard; it was pretty rare for her to ask for help like this, very rare.  

“Of course, if I know what’s going on…” 

“Remember that thing we did with the senator's son? I need you to do something like that again.”

You froze for a moment. She was referring to something you had helped her with before—something you weren't very proud of.

“Oh, but—” you frowned. “You said I’d never have to do anything like that again.”

Years ago, you had done your best to disguise yourself as Melanie to turn off the senator's son and prevent him from marrying her. It had worked, but lying to someone was a real headache. Thankfully, Melanie's father hadn’t suspected a thing, but the thought of risking it again felt scarier than anything else.

“I know, I know, but I’m in a tough spot. My dad has been speaking with a matchmaker again to arrange a match for me. After the scandal at the club last time, he's determined to marry me off for sure. Please, I need your help.”

How could she still act so childish in her late twenties? As she looked at you with those pleading eyes, memories of all the times she’d yelled at you and scolded you flashed in your mind. It was fine when you were more like her special assistant instead of just a housekeeper, but now it feels like you’re just a toy to her. When she wants to have fun, she plays with you—almost like you’re her little slave or something.

“I’m not here for that,” you said firmly. “That is not my job.” Your patience was running thin, and this was just too much.  

“But you’re supposed to help me,” she shot back, stubborn as ever. “And it’ll be easier this time, I promise.” 

You narrowed your eyes and said, “We got caught last time when the guy found out and cursed both of us. Do you have any idea how hard that was for me? And if your father discovers what we’re up to this time…”

She replied with a grin, “We won’t get caught this time because I already sent them your photo instead of mine. Besides, you know how my father is strict about always having my picture removed from newspapers and magazines.”

“You did what?” you wailed.

“Chill, it’s all figured out. I’ve been working on this since last week. You’ll have dinner with the guy, pretend to be me, scare him off, and boom! He won’t want to hear my name again. Easy peasy!”  

You rolled your eyes. “But he’s surely seen your photo somewhere; he can’t be that clueless.”  

“No, he’s a very busy businessman. He has lived abroad for years and has just returned from France. He’s looking to set up his business here in New York,” she said as she opened her laptop and pulled up a webpage with information about the man. “It seems he’s also looking for a suitable match,” she continued, glancing at his photo and pursing her lips.

You froze when you looked at the photo; he wasn’t at all what you expected. He appeared to be a mature, charismatic, and intelligent man. But how could you sit opposite this man and pretend to be someone else? The thought made you shudder, raising the tiny hairs on the back of your neck.  

“As you can see, he’s much older than me. I don’t think he’ll tolerate disrespect. If you’re disrespectful to him, he might get annoyed and just leave the table,” she said with a chuckle.

You laughed too, but for a different reason. You were sure that if she went to the meeting herself, he would get up and leave when he saw her personality.  

“I think you should go; maybe he won’t like you,” you suggested.  

She narrowed her eyes at you like she'd just caught you saying something crazy. “He won’t like me? Seriously?” She flipped her hair over her shoulder with a cocky grin. “Anyway, I can’t risk it. I don’t want to marry him or anyone else, and I definitely don’t want to be stuck in the same room with that old man.” 

As if I want it so much, you thought.  

“Come on, please do this for me! I promise I’ll be good; I won’t make you work too hard. I’ll ask Dad to give you a nice raise,” she said, clasping her hands together and trying to look cute.  

Well, good raise would mean you could quit your job and bail out of here earlier, right? You crossed your arms and glanced back at the laptop screen, staring at the photo of that guy—Harry Castillo. You made a decision that you had no idea would change everything in both his life and yours.

“Fine. When’s dinner?” you said, feeling a bit anxious.  

“Oh, you’re the best! I knew you couldn’t say no!” she said excitedly. “This Saturday.”  

“But that’s only two days away,” you pointed out, feeling even more nervous.  

“Don’t worry, I’ll get you all set. Just make sure you displease him,” she grinned.  

You sighed deeply, already sure you’d regret this choice.

“Don’t you think this dress is a bit… exaggerated?” you muttered, looking at yourself in the mirror.  

It was an elegant burgundy dress—strappy, satin, and adorned with pearl details—the kind of designer item you could never afford, even if you worked your entire life.  

“Am I trying to make him hate me or make him fall for me?” you asked, frowning.  

Melanie rolled her eyes. “Don’t worry; he’ll never fall in love with you,” she said arrogantly. This was typical behavior for her, so you chose to ignore it. “As much as you want to annoy him, remember that you represent me. I don’t want anyone gossiping that Melanie Johanson is wearing a lame dress,” she continued while picking out a matching purse.  

“But everyone knows I’m not you, except that poor guy.”  

“I don’t suppose you were planning to wear one of your own skimpy outfits,” she remarked. “Do you want our game to be exposed?”  

That was too much—being scolded and being forced to do something so ridiculous for this spoiled girl.  

“Fine, go to that dinner yourself then,” you said, slipping off your heels.  

She grabbed your arms. “No, no, no, please. Okay, I’m sorry I was rude. But I need you; no one else would do something like this for me.”  

“It’s good that you realize that,” you muttered.  

“Here, take this; it’s time,” she said, giving you a smile.  

Honestly, putting up with Melanie’s constant demands, cleaning up after her, and covering for her felt like child’s play compared to what you were facing tonight. 

A nice raise, you keep telling yourself trying to soothe yourself. I’m doing this for my restaurant; I’ll get it started someday.

The restaurant was one of the most famous, expensive, and luxurious places in New York—somewhere you would never normally set foot in. But tonight, thanks to Melanie’s name, you could easily get in. You were overwhelmed by the incredibly polite behavior of the restaurant staff.  

Melanie may have been extravagant and reckless, but she had thought of almost everything for tonight—from the driver who brought you here to the all restaurant staff. 

All this effort was for one purpose: to rid herself of the matchmaker’s match.  

When they took your fur coat at the entrance and told you that Mr. Castillo was waiting for you, you took a deep breath. After one step inside, when you saw him, you nearly backed away. Harry was busy on his phone, scribbling notes in his small notebook. He looked really sharp and stylish—way more handsome and appealing than in the photo.

Damn.  

You wanted to escape; you wished to put an end to this nonsense before it even began. Without realizing it, your feet started to move backward. Just then, you turned around and accidentally bumped into the waiter behind you, causing him to drop the champagne glasses he was carrying on his tray. The glasses shattered, and champagne spilled all over his outfit. You cursed yourself for the mishap.

Before you could even respond, the waiter apologized. “No, it was my fault; I’m sorry,” you said nervously, trying to wipe off the champagne from his clothes.

The other waiter and the staff stared at you in shock. 

Yes, you were a wealthy lady now, but what harm was there in being polite?

"No, ma'am, I should have been more careful," he said before turning and walking away.

"Miss Johnson?" said a soft, deep voice. 

You turned around to meet him and felt almost breathless. There he was, few inches taller than you, with broad shoulders, curly hair, deep-set brown eyes, a sharp nose, and an attractive appearance. 

"Melanie, right?" 

"Y-yes," you stammered, batting your eyelashes. 

And that smile! For a moment, the world seemed to stop; all the sounds in the restaurant faded, and you almost forgot why you were there. 

"I'm Harry," he said, holding out his hand. It took you so long to look at his face that you nearly forgot to acknowledge his hand. He laughed again, that wonderful smile lighting up his face. "My hand has been waiting for a while," he said teasingly. 

You felt your cheeks flush as you realized what he meant. "I'm sorry," you replied, quickly reaching out to shake his waiting hand. His hand was big and warm. "I hope I didn't keep you waiting too long," you mumbled, feeling embarrassed. You knew you needed to work up the courage. 

“Not really,” he said with a grin. “Shall we head to our table? Or do you want to stay here all night?” 

“S-sure,” you said sheepishly. 

Well, there wasn't much you could do about it. This wasn't just about him being wealthy or handsome. Even if it was a fake date, it had been years since you'd been on a date, and you didn’t know many men in your life. 

Dinner was harder than you expected. Even though you and Melanie had practiced what you should and shouldn't say, your fears came to light. Harry seemed kind and understanding, and it was difficult to lie to him, which made you hate every minute of it. It got worse when he started grilling you with questions, and you weren't sure how much longer you could keep up with this silly game.

When you excused yourself to go to the restroom, you called Melanie. 

"What do you mean he hasn't left the restaurant yet?" 

"I don't know; the conversation got a little long, and he kept asking questions about me, I mean you." 

"Do something to make him hate you already!" 

“But how? Throw wine at him? This is all ridiculous. I think we should just tell the truth.”

"Don't you dare!" she barked.

Her voice was so loud that you had to smile apologetically when the other women in the ladies room looked at you strangely, hearing your end of the conversation. 

"What am I supposed to do? Our plan isn't working." 

“What's up with this guy? He should’ve bailed by now.” Melanie grunted.

“He seems nice—I doubt he’d be rude like that.” 

“Rude! That’s the ticket; just be rude enough that he can’t stand it.” 

“What? Seriously?” 

“Yep, you heard me. Just be as rude as you can.” 

You let out a sigh, really wishing you could just bang your head against the wall right now.

“I said do it, or you'll ruin everything. Call me when you’re done.” 

“But what am I gonna— Hello? Darn it!” 

Beep… Beep… Beep… 

She hung up. 

You’ll have to be rude, how wonderful! But she was right; you needed to get rid of this man for the night to end and for you to return to your normal life. Why did he have to be so nice and kind? If he could ever act like a jerk, you would have done it by now, but he was just too sweet. As you looked in the mirror, you thought of all the rude things a lady wouldn’t normally do. Ah, that sounds familiar; it reminds you of Melanie herself. The very thought of her actions made you smile nervously. You took a deep breath and left the restroom.

Encouraging yourself, you gazed at Harry's handsome face from afar.

You can do it, you can do it...

Your first move: act indifferent.

You changed your facial expression as you approached the table and deliberately looked away from his face. He was smiling warmly at you. No, you couldn't look at him; it would only complicate everything. You were about to apologize for being late, but no, you can’t. Instead, you pulled your chair noisily on purpose, scraping its legs on the floor to create an annoying sound. You sat down and crossed your legs, positioning your body so it wasn't fully facing him. Harry seemed surprised by this sudden shift in your mood, but he didn’t comment.

A little later, as your desserts were served, he looked at you, “I like chocolate cake too, especially with pistachio sauce. We have similar tastes,” grinning at you.

You looked at him and then at the waiter. “I don’t want this,” you said angrily.

“But ma'am, you ordered it,” the poor man replied sheepishly.

“I’ve changed my mind,” you said. “I’ll go with the tiramisu,” you added after a quick look at the menu, making sure to glance away casually.

“Sure, I’ll change it right away,” he said, taking your plate and walking back.

“Are you all right?” Harry asked, concern creeping into his voice.

“I’m great,” you lied, forcing a fake grin.

He didn’t ask any further questions, but he seemed to suspect something had changed. When the waiter brought your dessert, you decided to eat it rudely. You were sure Harry would be disgusted as you devoured your dessert quickly and rather rudely as if you were starving. You didn’t look at him again until you finished your plate. When you finally glanced up, your stomach feeling a bit nauseous, the look on his face was not what you had expected. He was smiling at you admiringly.

What the hell was that? 

Shouldn’t he have shown disgust or displeasure, just like the people at the next table who were staring at you with disdain?

But not Harry, not him. Why, God, why? 

As if teasing you, he laughed and reached for a napkin on the table, wiping the remnants of dessert from the corner of your lips. “You’ve got quite the sweet tooth, don’t you, sweet girl?”

How could he be so nice, even after everything? 

“Want to eat mine too?” he joked again. Clearly, you were amusing him instead of grossing him out. Ugh, just what you needed. Why was this so hard? 

“It’s the cream in it,” you said, a bit defensive. If you were going to get into a battle of words, you might as well dive in. 

When he looked at you, confused, you thought you saw a glimmer of hope. Maybe you could annoy him with your gourmet knowledge. 

“The Marsala wine is in the cream; it’s a secret recipe,” you said, trying to sound smart. 

Harry paused eating his dessert, rested his elbow on the table, and gave you an admiring look. “Interesting. I didn’t know you were into cooking. That wasn’t in the info.” That familiar warm smile was back.

Crap. Another mess-up. 

“I get it—you’re keeping it under wraps from your dad. I want you to feel comfortable talking about your hobbies when you’re with me.” 

When you’re with him? Damn, that was supposed to be the first and last time you saw him. You started playing with your fingers in your hair out of nervousness. 

Think, think, think. All you had left was to use the only card you had.

“Look, Harry, I’ll be frank. I don’t plan to see you again.”

Suddenly, he stopped. “Didn’t you like me?” he asked softly.

Was it possible not to like this man? But damn it, you had to lie. You looked away; it was hard to read his expression.

“You’ve probably heard about me from the tabloids. I’m not the type of woman to get attached to just one man. My father put me up to this matchmaker thing; I didn’t intend to.” You admitted this indirectly. He deserved a little honesty, didn’t he? “I’ve had and will have many men in my life. I don’t plan to get married. I mean, you’re not special. I don’t want you to get the wrong idea.” 

When you looked at his face timidly, you realized you got the reaction you had been waiting for since the beginning of the night. His smile vanished; his expression hardened, and the color of his eyes darkened. 

But why did your heart squeeze when you should have felt relieved?

When they brought your coat, you thanked them and turned to Harry for the last time. You would probably never see him again. You felt fortunate to have had the chance to meet and get to know this man, even briefly. He would probably forget you anyway; why would he remember you? 

“Can I give you a ride home so we can end things on a good note?” he asked, sounding a bit unsure.

You definitely didn’t see that coming. You paused, trying to figure out what to say. It would’ve been easier to just say no, but his eyes were so mesmerizing that if he’d asked you to spill all your secrets right then, you might have done it without even thinking.

“Sure,” you replied, feeling shy.

When the valet brought Harry's car around, your jaw dropped. This black, late-model Mercedes Benz S was probably worth hundreds of thousands of dollars. Your interest in cars stemmed from your childhood; your mother always complained that you didn't like dresses and jewelry like other girls—rather, you liked cars. It was clear you were different, and you had always been that way.

Just like the situation you found yourself in now. Maybe there was something wrong with you.

The two of you were silent the entire ride. You didn’t look directly at him, but you could feel his gaze on you out of the corner of your eye. However, you were more captivated by the interior of the car. When would you ever get to ride in such a luxury vehicle again? It wouldn’t hurt to take a closer look. As you glanced towards his side to check out the control panel and see how much horsepower the car had, he caught your eye, causing you to quickly turn your head away. You had to suppress your curiosity.

"We’ll turn right here," you said as you approached the junction. Down the street, the giant mansion loomed, so close to your destination. You stole a quick glance at him, realizing this might be the only time you would see this man in person. You wanted to remember his handsome face. 

Suddenly, Harry slammed on the brakes, and the car screeched to a halt. Your eyes widened in surprise as you looked at him, startled that he had stopped so abruptly near the mansion. What had caused him to suddenly halt? He didn’t say a word, just stared at you, and his eyes seemed to communicate something intense. Was he angry and no longer wanting your company? 

You unbuckled your seatbelt and reached for the door handle, only to find it locked.

“Stay still,” he said as he unlocked the car doors. 

What was he implying? He walked around the front of the car, reached your side, and opened your door. 

Was this chivalry? If so, why did he stay away from the mansion?

“Aren’t you getting out?” His voice was kinda cold.

You didn’t know how to respond. You stepped out of the car without saying a word.

“Thanks for the ride—” 

Suddenly, he grabbed your arm—not roughly, but with a firm, questioning grip. His gaze was intense, but why did he look that way? Had he figured it all out? Maybe he was about to confront you for making a fool of yourself. After all, you had been willing to be open, and now you felt you deserved it. But you didn’t have the courage to meet his eyes, so you lowered your head. 

“You were lying, weren’t you?”

Shit. 

You swallowed hard; this was the moment you had dreaded.

“I-I…”

What were you going to say? How would you even say it?

You were fucked.

Suddenly, Harry pinched your chin with one hand, forcing you to look at him while his other hand rested on your waist. He tilted his head toward you, his hot breath brushing against your face, making your heart race. His lips were dangerously close to yours, and you could feel your throat going dry. What the hell was he going to do? Kissing you or scolding you? After what felt like an eternity, he pulled you closer by the arm around your waist and kissed you.

It had been a long time since you kissed someone, so you were almost shocked by his sudden kiss. No matter how hard you tried to stop yourself, you finally closed your eyes and surrendered to him completely. Your surrendering gave him courage and he deepened the kiss, his hot tongue licking your lips and forcing them apart. While his expert hand lingered on the swell of your breasts teasingly, you moaned and opened your mouth for him and when his tongue touched yours, you could still taste the chocolate from the dessert he had just eaten. 

But suddenly, Harry pulled his head back, breaking the kiss and all contact. Instinctively mesmerized, you leaned forward, eyes closed and mouth agape. When you finally opened your eyes, you caught him snickering, and as the embarrassment of the situation hit you, you wished you could disappear. You instinctively pressed your hand to your burning lips and pressed hem together. Harry licked his lips and grinned. "Just as I predicted. You lied to me. There's no way another man has touched you recently."

For a second, your mind went blank, and you just stared at him, blinking in confusion. What the heck did he mean by that? "Y-you... w-what..." Great, now you couldn't even put together a simple sentence.

What next?

Just then, your phone started ringing. When you opened your purse to get it, Harry reached for it before you could. Fortunately, you had saved Melanie in your phone under a special nickname, not her real name. Harry laughed, raising his eyebrows in surprise and amusement. "Trouble?"

Yes, you had saved her as trouble.

"Can you hand my phone back, please?" you said, holding out your hands, but he caught them with one hand and gently pushed them away. 

“Your trouble can wait,” he said, rejecting Melanie’s call. He dialed a number on your phone, but realized what he was doing when his own phone started ringing.

“There, now you have my number,” he said, handing your phone back to you.

You frowned and grabbed your phone angrily, "What makes you think I’d actually call you?" 

Harry shrugged, pursing his lips. “Shouldn't I call you before I come to pick you up for our next date? I guess I could just come by your house and honk the horn instead.” 

“What?” you exclaimed.

He grinned.

You took a deep breath to release some of your tension. “Harry, why are you doing this? There won’t be a next date; I told you that.”

“One chance,” he said firmly.

“A chance of what?” 

"I want you to give me a chance. A real date. If, at the end of the night, you still feel the same way, I promise you’ll never see me again."

You shook your head. "But why? You’re a man who can have any woman you want. You’re rich, handsome, and kind—why waste your time on someone who doesn’t want you?"

You saw something in his brown eyes, something you couldn’t quite identify, but it was intense. “Because you're different from others,” he said sharply. “True, women are not unattainable for me; they are always around. But what I want is someone special, and I feel that you are the one. There’s something about you that has ignited something in me I haven't felt in a long time. I must admit, I'm surprised; I never thought I’d be attracted to you after reading the news about you, but it seems I was wrong. Can you give me a chance? Please?”

Oh, Harry, there’s so much you don’t know, you thought. Your heart was fluttering at the thought of saying yes, but how could you? How dare you? You weren’t Melanie, the daughter of a wealthy businessman; you were just an ordinary girl.

“You know I won’t leave without hearing your answer, right?” He grunted.

Just then, you heard a car approaching, and you freaked out. That was Melanie’s dad’s car. Your heart nearly stopped.

“You have to go, like, now!” you yelled in a panic.

“First, say yes,” he replied, frowning.

"Si, yes, okay, alright! But please, go now!" you urged, pushing him toward the back of his car. He chuckled in response.

You crouched down to hide your face as the other car drove toward the mansion and pulled him down with you.

“I want you to know I’ve never done anything like this in my life,” he admitted, snickering.

“Is that so funny?” you snapped.

"Okay, I get that you don’t want your dad to see us like this, and I’m curious why, but since you said yes, I’ll be a good guy and leave."

“Yes you do that,” you said with a sigh.

Harry took his phone out of his pocket and waved it before getting into his car. “You’d better answer it when I call,” he said, getting inside. He winked at your puzzled expression and started the engine. His car quickly disappeared from sight along the road. You turned toward the mansion, exhaled deeply, and murmured to yourself.

“I'm so fucked.”

Like something plucked from a dusty rulebook of gender roles. You’d chalked it up to posturing—a private equity mogul’s version of 'chivalry' or whatever other bullshit thing that men did. But, Harry had explained that he respected your job, your autonomy, and your no-nonsense approach—but he wasn’t about to let you open the door for him. Not if he could help it.

As time went on, you realized it was just Harry being Harry.

It wasn’t about a power play or performative politeness.

He was just an old-fashioned gentleman through and through.

And honestly? After three years, you’d started to get used to it. It was kind of charming in a way that only someone like Harry could pull off.

The engine purred softly as you started to drive. Harry remained unusually quiet, his gaze fixed outside the window, his jaw tight. The usual easy banter or light chatter that often filled these rides was absent tonight.

Instead, an awkward silence settled between you.

Thick.

And uncharacteristically heavy.

"Is Lucy meeting you at the event, or should I be picking her up?" you asked, after a moment, glancing at him through the rearview mirror.

He tensed visibly at your question, his shoulders stiffening just slightly.

You noticed it, but didn’t press.

"She won’t be coming."

Your brow furrowed slightly. "Okay. Got it."

"We broke up."

You didn’t say anything right away, giving him space to continue if he wanted to. When he didn’t, you kept your expression composed, waiting for him to speak again.

He exhaled slowly.

"She broke up with me."

You were shocked.

Because, let’s be honest—who walked away from Harry Castillo?

He was genuinely one of the nicest men you had ever met in your life. There was a quiet kindness in the way he carried himself—and in the way he treated others.

He was…

Respectful.

Considerate.

And remarkably easy to be around.

It was a sincerity that was impossible to fake.

Harry was attractive, yes—sexy in a way that was effortless, but he wasn’t cocky. You could tell he was comfortable in his own skin, but never eager to impress or show off.

He was incredibly sharp, but never arrogant about it.

He listened more than he talked, genuinely interested in what others had to say, and had a way of making people feel comfortable.

His humor was understated but genuine, and he didn’t need to try to be charming—he just fucking was.

You didn’t have many opinions about Lucy—she was fine, but when they first started dating, you hadn’t quite understood what they talked about or what drew them together. It wasn’t your place to judge, and besides, it wasn’t really your business.

He was your boss. Just your boss.

Nothing more...

It wasn't like your pussy clenched at the mere thought of him.

It wasn't like you had thrown your head back moaning out his name last night with your fingers between your legs…

You opened your mouth to say something, but before you could, Harry’s phone suddenly buzzed against the console. He reached for it quickly, glancing at the screen before answering.

"Hello? Yes, this is Harry," he said, his tone businesslike but a little strained. You couldn’t make out all the words, but you caught snippets—something about selling a building, terms like 'asset disposition' and 'valuation adjustments.' The jargon was dense, layered, and honestly, a bit over your head.

After a few moments, he nodded, murmured a few more words, and then ended the call. He looked at you through the rearview mirror, a faint, tired smile flickering across his face.

As you pulled up to the venue, you noticed a cluster of flashing cameras and a small crowd gathered outside. Paparazzi were already waiting, their lenses trained on the entrance, likely expecting Harry to step out of the car. You slowed down and parked discreetly, catching a glimpse of the eager photographers. Harry immediately reached up to adjust his bowtie, fidgeting with it as he surveyed the scene with a calm expression. He smoothed down the lapels of his tuxedo, then turned to you through the rearview mirror.

"Thanks for the ride," he said softly. "You don’t need to pick me up from the event tonight. I’ll manage on my own tonight."

"Are you sure? I can pick—"

He cut you off gently, shaking his head. "Really, I’ll be fine. Have a nice weekend, okay?"

You nodded.

Harry stepped out of the car, adjusting his cuffs as he prepared to face the crowd. Impulsively, you rolled down the window, feeling a sudden burst of nervous energy.

"Hey… um my brother just graduated law school. My mom’s throwing a small family thing at my parents place in Astoria on Sunday. You’re more than welcome to join if you want… to take your mind off things," you blurted out.

There was a moment of silence as Harry looked at you, clearly caught off guard.

What the fuck were you doing inviting your boss… to hang out with your family in Queens?

He offered a small, apologetic smile.

"That’s really kind of you. But I don’t think I can make it. Things are a bit hectic on my end. But…congratulations to your brother. That’s a huge achievement."

Before you could respond, the paparazzi had already caught sight of him, their cameras clicking rapidly. You realized that was your cue and quickly rolled up the window, the sound of shutter snaps filling the air as Harry waved goodbye to you.

The warm evening sun cast a gentle glow over the backyard as you, your family, and friends lounged comfortably on the patio. You clinked your drink with your parents, brother, and his girlfriend. You all sat in chairs arranged around a small table, sipping cold drinks straight from the cooler.

Laughter and lively chatter filled the space, blending with music playing from a nearby speaker. Your sister sat on a cushioned chair, cradling her baby boy in her arms, who was wrapped snugly in a soft blanket. Her husband leaned casually against the patio wall, smiling as he watched her and his son, and walked over to gently kiss her.

Your mom had set up a buffet table on the side, loaded with platters of cheeses, cold cuts, fresh fruits, and homemade dips. Bowls of chips and nuts were scattered around, inviting everyone to help themselves while they waited.

The main course was in the oven.

Your mom’s special lasagna.

A fan favorite.

Suddenly, the backyard gate swung open, and your aunt and uncle stepped out, hurrying over to your brother, giving him a hug.

The doorbell rang sharply. You paused for a moment, surprised—most of your relatives and friends tended to text or just walk in, so you set down your drink and headed toward the front door.

As you approached, you reached out and opened the door, your eyes immediately locked onto the figure standing before you—and for a moment, your mind blanked out entirely.

It was Harry.

You froze, a jolt of shock rushing through you.

You didn’t actually think he would show up.

You were freaking out, realizing that your fucking boss, the man you’d known for years, was standing on your doorstep—here, at your family’s home.

Your pulse quickened, and you felt a heat creeping up your cheeks.

Harry looked you over carefully, his gaze slow and assessing, taking in your blue flowy midi dress.

He was dressed down, wearing a simple brown button-down shirt and jeans, the most casual you’d ever seen him.

He was so handsome.

Ridiculously so.

It was as if he was intentionally trying to blend in, to be less of the polished private equity guy and more of just… Harry.

Harry’s gaze softened as he took a step closer, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He was holding a bottle of whiskey in one hand, then paused, as if reconsidering how to begin.

"I meant to call you and let you know I was coming. But I just asked Albert for your parents address. I didn’t want to bother you at the last minute."

Albert was Harry’s house manager.

His other hand was holding a bouquet of peonies, their soft pink and white petals fresh and fragrant. He glanced down at them briefly, then looked back at you.

"These are for your mother," he said softly.

Without hesitation, you reached out and gently took the flowers from his hands, giving him a smitten smile.

"Thank you so much, Harry. She’ll love these," you said honestly, and a little surprised by how much it meant to see him there.

You got to admire one of your favorite sights. The white of his teeth, and the crinkles around his eyes that accompanied his big smile.

His famous dimple making its appearance.

Harry noticed the shoes at the doorstep, and you instinctively started to step toward him, about to tell him he didn’t need to bother with removing them. But before you could, Harry raised an eyebrow and chuckled quietly. "I’m the child of immigrants," he said matter-of-factly. "I always take my shoes off. My mother would murder me if I didn’t."

A small smile tugged at your lips, and you nodded.

He stepped into the house, slipping off his loafers, and you watched as he glanced around the modest, lived-in space. You felt a flicker of embarrassment—your childhood home wasn’t anything fancy, and Harry, coming from old money, probably had a different standard in mind. Still, you quickly shifted your focus back to the flowers, placing them carefully in a vase on the side table, arranging them so they looked just right.

As Harry moved further inside, you caught him subtly assessing the house—the old furniture, the framed photos on the walls.

You suddenly felt self-conscious.

You were aware of the contrast: Harry’s world of luxury, and your world of simplicity—your dad a taxi driver, your mother a stay-at-home mom, raising three kids. You grew up with less, but you never went hungry. You always had clothes on your back, and your parents instilled in all three of you a sense of independence and self-sufficiency.

Your gaze drifted to the living room, where Harry had paused, examining a collection of framed photos. One caught his eye—a picture of you on a tennis court. You noticed him stopping in front of it, studying it intently.

"You play tennis?" he asked, turning slightly toward you.

You walked over and nodded.

"Yeah. It’s sort of the only way I was able to go to college."

"That’s impressive."

You shrugged.

"I had a pretty bad injury at the beginning of my junior year. It was a torn ligament in my ankle, and I was out for most of the season. Honestly, I thought that was the end of my tennis days."

Harry’s brows creased slightly, listening intently.

"But my coach was really supportive. He still kept me on the team, even though I couldn’t compete anymore. Made me an alternate. Kind of like a backup player, but it meant I could still practice with the team and, more importantly, keep my scholarship. Without that, I wouldn’t have been able to afford college."

"Good man," he said quietly, taking a slow step closer, one of his hands casually slipping into his pockets as he continued to hold the bottle of whiskey with his other hand.

"If it’s not too much on your ankle,” he said with a soft smile. "we should play sometime."

"Harry, I know how busy you are. You don’t have to do that."

"I want to," he said simply. "I’ve been playing since I was a kid. My dad used to take me out to courts on the weekends, and I’d spend hours swinging away. It’s one of those things that just stuck with me." He paused, a small, nostalgic smile tugging at his lips. "Haven’t played much lately, though. Life gets busy, and I haven’t had the time or the chance to get on a court in a while." "Okay, just let me know when you’re free. I’ll have to run it by my boss first, though. I barely get any time off," you winked. Harry gave all of his personal staff 30 days of PTO every year. He was extremely generous. "He’s… kind of a tough guy," you teased.

He smirked.

"A tough guy, huh? Well, I’ll make sure to get on his good side then,"

Just then, a loud, unmistakable shout cut through from the backyard. "BULLSHIT!" Both of you froze for a moment. Harry’s eyebrows lifted, and he looked at you with a bemused, slightly puzzled expression. "Game of bullshit must have started," you said with a grin, shrugging as if it explained everything.

"Bullshit?"

You couldn’t help but grin as the shouting from outside continued. Without a second thought, you reached out and grabbed Harry’s wrist, giving it a gentle but firm tug. "Come on," you said with a playful smirk, heading toward the backyard.

Harry looked surprised but amused, and so he followed your lead.

As you stepped through the patio door into the backyard, all eyes immediately turned toward you. The crowd, caught mid-laugh or mid-sip, paused and turned their gaze upward.

"Everyone, this is my boss, Harry."

"The billionaire?" your brother blurted out, his eyes wide.

His voice rang loud and clear, and suddenly the entire group looked at Harry with newfound interest. You shot your brother a sharp, side-eye glare, your jaw tightening as your eyes narrowed. You crossed your arms, giving him a look that could cut glass.

Your brother, suddenly realizing the slip-up, stammered awkwardly, scratching the back of his head as he scrambled for words. "Uh, I mean, the private equity guy, right?"

Harry, ever the composed gentleman, calmly stepped forward, offering a relaxed smile. "Your sister invited me. Hope that’s okay." His gaze flicked to you with a hint of amusement. "She mentioned you just graduated from law school," he added, handing your brother the bottle of Macallan.

Your brother’s eyes went even wider as he took the bottle. You realized he’d probably just been handed an obscenely expensive bottle of whiskey.

"Congratulations," Harry’s smile lingered as he nodded casually.

"Thanks," your brother mumbled.

Your mom appeared, a warm smile lighting her face as she stepped forward to hug Harry. "Welcome to our home. It’s nice to finally put a face to the name. She talks about you all the time." 

"Mom..." you muttered under your breath.

Gently, Harry leaned in and pressed two gentle kisses—one on each of her cheeks. "Thank you so much for having me. It’s a pleasure to meet you and be part of your lovely gathering."

Your mother beamed.

Harry had her wrapped around his finger with his charm.

Obviously.

Meanwhile, your dad, sitting at the table with some cards in hand, looked up as Harry was introduced. He offered a firm, friendly handshake. "Nice to meet you, Harry," he said sincerely. Then, he yelled out, "BULL-FUCKING-SHIT!" loudly, causing a ripple of laughter from everyone, including Harry, as your uncle tried to look innocent when he said he put down two aces.

"You want to join us for a game?" your father asked Harry, wiggling his eyebrows. "We could use a fresh challenger."

"Dad, cut it out. Let Harry settle in first—he’s had a long day. Why don’t you let him grab some food and a drink first?" you quickly intervened, giving him a nudge and a stern look.

Harry glanced curiously at the scoreboard mounted on the side of the deck table. His eyes settled on your name with a shining star next to it.

"What’s this?" he asked, gesturing toward the scoreboard.

Your sister chuckled, leaning back comfortably in her chair with your nephew as she glanced at the display. "Well," she pointed at you. "she’s the bullshit champion around here. Nobody’s beaten her yet."

"Champion, huh?" Harry said, taking a seat next to your dad. He casually draped an arm over the back of the chair. "Alright then, if she’s the champ, I’ll play. But only if she’s willing to take me on," he said with a hint of playfulness, bringing a smile to your face.

 "Are you sure you want to do that?" you asked.

Harry grinned, reaching down to roll up the sleeves of his brown button-down, exposing his forearms. "My job involves dealing with people bluffing all the time. I’ve learned a thing or two about reading a poker face."

"Alright, then. But don’t come crying when I wipe the floor with you."

Your brother and his girlfriend snickered.

"Game on," he chuckled, as you settled into your seat across from him.

You crossed your arms, leaning forward slightly.

"Just so you know… I don’t like losing."

Harry’s smile widened, and he gave a small nod. "Good. That makes it more interesting."

The game had ended in Harry’s favor, but everyone knew—especially Harry—that it wasn’t quite fair. Your family had been subtly feeding him answers with quick glances and knowing smirks.

Traitors.

But you honestly couldn’t bring yourself to actually be mad.

As the evening wound down, it was time for Harry to leave. Your mom, pressed a container of lasagna leftovers into his hands.

"Here, Harry. You come back anytime," she said.

"Thank you, ma’am. I haven’t had a home-cooked meal this good in a very long time. It was truly delicious," he said, holding the container close to his chest.

"You’re always welcome here," she replied.

You stepped close, giving her a quick hug before turning to your family. "I should head back to Brooklyn,” you said, glancing at the time. "Got an early day tomorrow with this one," you pointed playfully at Harry, who was chatting with your dad.

Your dad reached out, pulling you into a firm hug. "Take care of yourself, honey."

You hugged your sister, brother, and his girlfriend next, sharing a quick smile and a promise to catch up soon. Then, you bent down to kiss your nephew goodnight, gently pressing a soft kiss to his tiny forehead as he was cradled in your brother-in-law’s arms. His little eyelids fluttered shut, and he shifted slightly, settling into sleep.

You and Harry stepped out from the front door together. The warm glow of the porch light cast a soft sheen over his handsome features. He paused on the doorstep, glancing down at you.

"How are you getting home?"

"I was just gonna take the subway. It’s not far," you replied.

"I can drive you."

You blinked, caught off guard. "You drove here?"

He chuckled quietly, a knowing smirk curling at the corner of his mouth. "I sometimes do that."

"So… what car did you drive here?"

He walked you both around the corner, and then your jaw dropped when he reached behind his back, pulling out a set of keys to unlock a vintage car—an immaculate, gleaming blue 1959 Aston Martin DB4 Series 1.

Your breath hitched just a little. That wasn’t just any car. That was a piece of history, a masterpiece of design and craftsmanship—luxury wrapped in a classic silhouette. You’d known Harry was into rare cars, but seeing it in person hit differently.

You felt a little flutter of awe, maybe even a tiny pang of envy, as you looked at it.

"That’s… that’s…um…that’s…wow," you stammered.

“Want to take her for a spin?”

You could hardly believe Harry was actually offering you the chance to drive it. It felt surreal—like a dream you weren’t sure you deserved. Your fingers twitched at your sides, hesitant yet eager, as you looked at him in shock. You couldn’t help but blink a few times, trying to process the generosity in his eyes.

This was the nicest thing anyone had ever offered you. You’d never even sat in a car like this, let alone driven one. You weren’t sure what to say—your voice caught in your throat for a moment—until you managed to whisper, "Really?"

"Hell yeah," he smirked. Without hesitation, Harry stepped closer, his hand gently settling on your back, guiding you toward the driver’s side. You moved with eager anticipation, your heart pounding a little faster. As per usual, he reached for the door and opened it smoothly for you, helping you slip into the front seat, the seatbelt clicking into place as you looked over at him.

He closed the door softly, then crossed to the passenger side. With a satisfied smile, he slid into the seat, his gaze lingering on the road ahead for a moment as he held onto his leftovers in his lap.

"Thanks for inviting me today. It’s the most fun I’ve had in years," he admitted, his cheeks flushed pink.

You felt a small ounce of sadness at hearing that confession.

"No need to thank me," you said, your teeth sinking into your bottom lip. "I’m really glad you came."

You had just turned off the engine.

You were back in Carroll Gardens outside of your apartment.

Harry walked with you up the steps of your building, his shoes making soft clicks on the concrete. The evening had settled into a quiet calm, the kind that made everything feel a little more intimate.

"Thanks for the ride… that was amazing. I have no words," you said, when you two reached the final step.

"You were driving, so technically, I should be thanking you for the ride."

You nodded, feeling a little shy but grateful.

"Goodnight," he said as he started going back down the steps.

"Goodnight," you whispered, but then you cried out, "Wait!"

Harry paused and then turned back slowly to face you.

"I know this is none of my business, but… I’m sorry you and Lucy broke up."

He looked surprised.

"Don’t be sorry," he murmured, barely audible. "It’s okay."

You took a breath, gathering your words. "You know, I remember the first time I interviewed for this job. I thought it was crazy when you cut it short—there was still thirty minutes left, and you just said you had to go. At first, I thought it was rude. Then your personal assistant helped me reschedule, and she told me you were going to the hospital to visit Archie’s wife."

Archie was Harry’s personal Chef. A couple years ago, she had taken a serious fall that led to her breaking her leg. The injury was severe, requiring surgery and months of recovery. It was a difficult time for Archie and his wife, and Harry had been there for her, visiting regularly. Despite his busy schedule, he made sure she received the care she needed and checked in on her often.

He paid for her hospital stay.

You continued, your voice a little more confident now. "I remember thinking, I’ve driven a lot of people in this fucking town, and I can’t remember anyone caring about their staff like that. My old boss was saying my name wrong for three months before he even considered that I mattered."

Harry hadn’t once let his eyes fall from your face since you had started speaking.

"I don’t know why you and Lucy didn’t work out. But I just want you to know…I think you’re this really incredible person."

Harry stood quietly while his eyes found the ground.

"You wanna know why Lucy broke up with me?"

Your heart skipped a beat at the sudden shift in his tone. You hesitated, but then asked anyway. "Why?"

He looked up at you. "She said that I wasn’t in love with her."

The words hung between you for a moment.

You felt the air shift, as if time had slowed or frozen altogether.

"Well, were you?" you asked, and ended up gasping softly when his hands slipped over to your hips.

He gazed down at you through lidded eyes.

Your breath sped up, and you placed your hands over his chest.

You could feel his heartbeat pounding beneath your fingertips, and your mouth grew dry.

"How could I have been in love with her when I have feelings for you?"

Your breath caught in your throat, and your mind struggled to process his words.

Had he really just said that?

Was this real?

"You’re all I’ve thought about for the last three years," he raised one hand, and as his hand brushed your cheek, your eyes fluttered shut. You could feel the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath your trembling fingertips.

"Bullshit." you whispered.

A guy like Harry couldn't be interested in you.

You were from two different worlds. 

He tugged you closer, his warm breath brushing against your ear as he gently pressed his lips to the delicate curve just below your earlobe. The softness of his kiss sent a shiver down your spine, his lips lingering there for a moment before he pulled back slightly, "You think I’m lying?" 

But before you could say anything more, he moved, his hands deftly finding the hem of your dress and sliding it up your thighs.

"I want you," he said, his voice a low growl as his fingers danced along your skin, finding the soft lace of your panties. "How could I not want you, sweetheart?"

"Fuck, Harry," you whined, your head hitting the door behind you.

"Say that again," he murmured, his breath trailing down to your shoulder.

"What?"

"My name."

"Harry…" you moaned, desperation coating your voice. "Kiss me."

He wasted no time.

His expression quickly turned predatory, as his eyes flicked to your mouth. His hand slid around the back of your neck, and he started to attack your mouth. A moan escaped you, as he rubbed himself against your clothed cunt. One of your hands dove into his perfect hair, while the other traced your nails along the back of his neck, as you continued to tangle your tongue with his. He groaned into your mouth, when your tongue slid against his. Then, his lips left yours, to bury his face in your neck, and leave a trail of kisses along your neck.

You audibly exhaled when one of his hands cupped you over your panties, underneath your dress, where you were currently soaked. You should have been embarrassed by how aroused you were, but you were too desperate to care. His other hand explored your ass as he traced the outline of your curves. Harry tightened his grip on your waist, pressing you harder against his erection, his breath hot against your ear as he nipped playfully at your jaw and whispered filth into your ear. Telling you how he wanted to taste your pussy, to fill you up with his fingers, his cock, stretch you out, and give it to you over and over again.

"I need to fuck you," he said, as his forehead rested against yours, his beautiful brown eyes dark with need. "Need to make you feel good."

You bit your bottom lip.

You slid your hands up his chest, looking up at him seductively, and watched him pull back a little. His eyebrows raised as he watched you lick your lips.

You knew it was risky.

Sleeping with your boss could have serious consequences.

You always followed the rules… but you were tired of being that person.

Of always playing it safe.

Of holding back.

You had been dreaming of this moment longer than you cared to admit, and you found yourself needing him more than you wanted to acknowledge.

"Please, fuck me," you begged, knowing that crossing this line could lead to complications.

But, for once, you didn’t want to think about what might come next or the potential fallout—you just needed to feel.

And, in this moment, the temptation of Harry Castillo was too strong to resist.

dividers by @saradika-graphics

It’s a bitterly cold day in Chicago’s south side. The type of cold where everyone at school is more concerned about staying warm than fashion. You were walking to school, both your parents left for work before you woke up. The school was too close to home for bus services so walking was really the only option. After trying to get in touch with Lip for the past two days, you were now on strike from being nice to him. You weren’t ignorant, Lip had a lot going on at home which meant his undivided attention was rare. Sometimes you wished he would just shoot you a text like: hey super busy day, love you / shits been crazy, talk to you when i can. Having this conversation in the past, you weren’t going to bother having it again. It surprised you to see Lip sitting on the front steps of the school; early which he never was. You started walking up the steps, he stood up and flicked his cigarette bud into the snow. 

“Hey,” he said, you just looked at him and kept walking to your locker. 

“Oh come one, you’re ignoring me?” he asked, leaning up against the mental lockers as you emptied your things into the locker. 

“Seems familiar doesn’t it,” you say, referencing him not reaching out for the past couple days. 

“Yeah but mine was accidental not bratty,” he chuckled. Maybe it was because you haven't eaten or smoked that morning but that comment enraged you. Slamming your locker and walking toward first period, leaving him in the hall. 

Just your luck to have chemistry as the first class of the day. The teacher took 20 minutes to calm the class down. Kids play fighting with each other or flirting in the back of the room. Groups of students in their cliques, not paying any mind to the instructions given. You felt bad for the teacher, I'm sure she thought an education career would help so many teens. Only to be placed in one of the most poorly funded schools in the state. You didn’t feel too bad though, it only meant less work for you. Lip liked the fact that you cared about your grades, that you had a plan after highschool. As stupid as Lip was acting, you also liked how smart he was. You complained about it alot but you liked how he didn’t fall for your little tricks and games. He doesn’t chase you, or let you push him over. Most guys were just so emotionally unintelligent, not to mention Lip was more mature when it came to sex. The last couple guys you were with didn’t even talk while you fucked. Didn’t know what foreplay was or understand a woman's body. Lip had a really good understanding of when to be gentle or rough. When he would whisper things in your ear it always felt so natural and smooth. There were times when your stomach would randomly flip when thinking about the nasty things he’d told or done to you. Maybe part of the reason you had some animosity towards Lip was because you had been sexually frustrated. For the past couple weeks you felt like you were practically throwing yourself at him and he wasn’t in the mood. Of course you respected that, you just missed him was all; maybe a specific part of him. At lunch he came up to you from behind and hugged you. Still feeling quite stubborn, you allowed it but acted like you didn’t care. 

“You still mad?” he whispers into your ear which makes your skin break out with goosebumps. He slides his hands down from your waist to your hips.

“I know we haven’t talked but I’m here now, let’s ditch for the rest of the day,” he said, pressing his lips against your neck. As much as you wanted to give in and agree, you still wanted to make a point. Pushing his hands away, you grab your backpack and walk away without acknowledging him. If he wanted to brand you as a brat then you’d give him his money's worth. 

It was the last period, and everyone was waiting for the bell to ring. Some kids just left when they were ready and the teacher didn’t care. He just sat there, staring with cold dead eyes at his computer. Daren was consistently trying his best to spark conversation with you, all he talked about was how he ran track but he was trying his best. The heaters were blasting inside the school because it was snowing. The classroom windows were wet with condensation which made you feel sticky. Becoming overstimulated you decide to leave early, excusing yourself and walking out. Daren followed you into the hallway, 

“Hey I was wondering if you wanted to stay after school and watch me practice? Maybe I can take you out after, or something?” he asks. 

“Oh sorry I can't. I actually have a ton of homework so, maybe next time?” you say walking away, happy that you’re avoiding the rush of people flooding out the front gates. 

Normally Lip would walk you home but you didn’t see him. Your willpower that was fueling your grudge was weakening. Pulling your phone out of your pocket and seeing if he texted you; he didn’t. Looking back you were feeling silly about your actions because look where they led you. It was really cold, snow sticking to your hair and eyelashes. Once you finally got home, Lip was waiting on the porch which took you by surprise. You went to greet him, this is when you noticed he looked angry. He didn’t even say anything to you, even after opening the door and letting the both of you in. 

“How’s Daren?” he asks, once you both get to your bedroom. 

“What?” you asked confused. 

“Well you talked to him all last period and even after you left,” he said, sitting on your bed and lighting a cig. 

“Okay first of all, I only talk to him for like two seconds. He asked me to watch him practice and I said no,” you defend yourself. 

“That’s two seconds more than you talked to me today,” he remarked. 

“Lip that’s not even fair,” you say, which made him smirk and shake his head as he took a drag. 

“Do you even hear yourself? ‘tHat’s nOt fAiR’ whining like a baby who didn’t get their way. Why were you so offended that I called you a brat even though you’re acting just like one,” he said.

“What are you trying to scare me?” you ask while laughing.

“Trying?” he asked rhetorically. 

You rolled your eyes and started to change into comfortable clothes. While you were only in your bra and underwear, Lip came behind you and ripped the lace material of the panties. You gasp and go to turn around but he presses you against the closet door. Intertwining his hand into your hair, gripping it so tight strands of hair were being pulled out. His dick was extremely hard and feeling it pressed against your ass immediately excited you. Moving your head slightly so he can start kissing and biting your neck. His breathing was hard and with his chest pressed against your back, you could feel his heartbeat. As he marked your neck, whimpers and moans were escaping your mouth. 

“Since you were feeling so brave today let’s hope you keep that energy,” he growled into your ear. 

“You gonna try and teach me a lesson?” you asked with a patronizing tone.

He chuckled and led you to the bed by your hair. Your heart was racing, your sexlife was by no means bland however, this was the first time he was this rough. It felt like the two of you were breaking the rules or something. Like discovering new and daunting territories. He reached his hand down and started feeling you through the hole in your panties he made. He let out a moan once he felt how wet you were. 

“You are such a fucking slut, good to know being put in your place is all it takes for you to soak your panties,” he said, letting go of your hair. 

He sat up onto his knees, instead of fully stripping his clothes, he just pulled his dick out of his zipper. Rubbing the tip against your pussy. Your chest was pressed against the mattress but your ass was pressed against his shaft. You start to rock your hips back and forth against him but he starts spanking his hands against your ass. The pain was so bad it burned, you thought he’d stop after a couple times but he kept going. Wanting to show you were handling the smacks, you try your best to take them without complaint. He was unrelenting and you finally begin to squirm away, which seemed to humor him,

“The more you fight and squirm, the more I wanna fuck you,” he said, running his nails down your now bright red ass. 

“Fuck just do it already then,” you whine, in response he spits at your face. 

“Cum slut’s don’t speak unless spoken to,” he said, pushing himself into your twitching and leaking pussy.

The feeling was enough to make your eyes roll back. After weeks of Lip blue-balling you, the sensation of being filled by him was pure bliss. He was going at a painfully slow rate, pulling himself fully in and out of you after every thrust. As pleasurable as it was, you’d do anything to get him to speed up. Unable to rock your own hips, you kick your feet a little in protest. This made him laugh and slow down even further. He grabbed your wrists and pressed them against your lower back, taking full control of your body. You were dripping down both thighs and tears pooled in your eyes. You were at your limit with his teasing, tightly clenching around him. He pulled out and flipped you onto your back, feeling too embarrassed to look him in the eye. Tears had stained your cheeks and your hair was in complete disarray from being yanked and pulled. He crawled on top of you and started pushing his tip in and out. You were bucking your hips up, tears coming back as he teased relentlessly. 

“You’re sensitive here? Perfect spot to abuse huh?” he asked sarcastically, using one hand to smack his cock against your pussy.

In your own little world, trying to cum with what little friction he was giving you. He finally stops and instead wraps his hands around your neck. Then starts pounding into you, slowly tightening his grip over time. You were feeling dizzy and foggy, letting out a moan every time his length fully pressed into you. He was grunting and groaning, a couple beads of sweat dropping onto the bed from how much he was exerting himself. The closer you got to your orgasm the tighter his grip on your throat became. Your face was bright red and a wheezing sound came out of your mouth with every inhale. He seemed to be hummored by this and started to mock you. 

“Can’t breathe? Good,” he chuckled. 

The mixture of degradation and the fast paced abuse on your cunt was enough to send you over the edge. Shockwaves of pure pleasure began to ripple throughout your body. Legs trembling and eyes rolling back. He was chasing his own climax, seeing and feeling you cum around his cock was enough for him. Rutting into you with no regard for you, as if you were nothing but a toy for him. Seeing how he turned you into such a slutty mess made him feel feral. It wasn’t until he was fully finished that he removed his hands from your neck. After a small coughing fit, you began to come too. Lip was already up, using his shirt to clean you up. Pulling your hair out of your face and into a messy bun. You were half dead, completely exhausted and worn down. He laid down next to you, rubbing your back and whispering affirmations into your ear. You wrapped your arms around his neck, trying to be as close to him as you could.