Equal Opportunity Hoe

She dried her hands on the small towel hanging next to her, grinning up at his scrumptious reflection. “You missed me?”

“Mhm. So bad, baby.”

A bigger smile was creeping onto her face as he sat his cap and glasses down by the sink, but then she realized something. Her brows scrunched in confusion. “Why are we talking so low?”

“Tink is sleep.”

“Oh, ok. That must’ve just happened.”

“Which means we got 'bout fifteen minutes, give or take,” he said, hurrying out of his t-shirt and tossing it to the floor.

Her head jerked forward, lips pursed, but she was only partially confused now. “Um, to do what?”

Ignoring her completely, he curved his arms around her waist and licked his lips, trailing wet kisses at the crook of her neck.

“Nope.” She whipped around to face him, throwing her hands up to his bare chest before he could wrap her up too tightly. Or get her too loose.

“Why not?”

He was frowning like she was the one not making any sense. So, naturally, she frowned back, aware that he was the actual crazy person.

“Baby, what if she wakes up? What if she walks in here?”

He shrugged. “Lock the door.”

“But, then, what if she needs one of us and we’re in here with the door locked? Being nasty.”

“Baby, I need you.”

“Mike, you gotta focus, boo,” she instructed, snapping her fingers near his face. “Focus.”

He sighed and dropped his head in defeat. He knew she was right, but his hunger was outpacing all of his good sense right now. “If she needs one of us, I can move quickly.”

“Ok, but she’s right in our bed. What if she hears something? She could be scarred for the rest of her little life.”

“Simple. You the loud one. Just be quiet.”

Her eyes widened as her jaw fell slack, into a smile. “Not ‘Mr. huff and puff, moan and groan’ tryna play me--” They both ducked into near-silent laughter, throwing their hands up to catch the noise before it could go too far. “You be quiet, too, shit.”

“Ok, ok. I will. So, come ooon.” He pressed his body against her plushness, allowing her to feel all the frustration he'd been carrying around with him. Her stomach did a violent flip.

“Mike… I don’t know about this.” She bit her bottom lip, carefully sliding her hands down to his abs, knowing she was very close to giving in. He knew it, too.

“Mama… please," he whispered right against her ear, grazing it lightly with his soft lips. "You know you love the way I make you feel.”

He raised one of her legs and pushed himself even closer, sinking his starving fingers into the suppleness of her thigh. The desperation in his words as well as his unsteady movements had her soaking her panties.

“Baby,” she released a frustrated sigh, “...we can’t. Not while Tink’s in here.”

“But she’s asleep, Crys. Come on, we wastin' precious time.”

She stared at him for a second, just to see how serious he was. He stared back with the eyes of a man who didn’t have a playing bone in his body. Without warning, he grabbed her waist and lifted her up onto the sink, sending more than a few of her products tumbling. One even rolled onto the floor.

“Michael!” she whispered, intensely.

“Just let me…” he begged, going straight for her lips. She dodged his kiss, but his hand was caressing her thigh and slowly creeping up her shorts. “Let me make that pussy feel good.”

She gasped when his lips touched her neck right as those filthy words entered her ears. He was talking to her like their baby wasn’t right in the next room. His brain wasn’t in full control and hers was about to follow, her glossy walls clenching around nothing, begging to be touched. 

"But, babe, you know it's just a cat nap. She ain't even sleep for real," she breathed, eyes closed, neck stretched out and giving him more space.

"We got 'bout ten minutes now."

He was relentless. In the moment, there was only one logical thing she could think to do. She knew she would pay handsomely for it later, but that was a problem for future Crystal. “…Tink, baby, daddy’s home!” she suddenly yelled, covering her face right after.

She watched through her fingers as he backed away, blinking slowly, eyes wide. “Crys…” he whispered. She licked her tongue out at him, laughing uncontrollably at the genuine shock in his expression. He shook his head, unable to hold his laughs seeing her lose it. "I can't believe you, girl.”

"I'm sorryyyy! I didn't know what else to doooo!"

His head slumped back and he huffed toward the ceiling, so dramatically. Of course, she just laughed harder. About two seconds later, Tink ran into the bathroom with a huge smile, rubbing the residual sleep from her eyes. “Daddyyyy!”

“Tiiiiiink!” He scooped his baby girl up, peppering kisses onto her cute little face through her giggles. Then he turned back to Crys swinging her legs up on the sink, and cupped his hand over Tink's ear. “That ass gettin' put smoove through the mattress tonight. Believe that.” Crys' mouth dropped. He'd spoken softly, but he didn't want that to curb the severity of his statement. “And I'm not playin'.”

"Oop!" She pulled her lips in and bit them, letting her head fall. She knew she was in trouble, but it was undoubtedly her favorite kind. She couldn't wait for the sun to go down. "Well, put me through it then."

He chuckled, nodding his head. "...Aight."

@blackerthings @judymfmoody @lyrarodriguez @fendionmyfeet @fadingbelieverexpert @chaneajoyyy @astoldbychae @hotgrlcece @daddiespamm @lovethecheri @xo-goldengirl @miyuhpapayuh @silkhoneyy @jiminie-08 @queengodiva619 @soufcakmistress @shiania @motheroffae @savagemickey03 @bigjh @infinity2 @uhhh-nunyabidniz-heaux @deepinmydaydream @queenofklonnie22 @irefusetobeacasualty @honestlyurslol @margepimpson -taglist-

“Not now, darlin’.”

Billy didn’t even glance up from his computer. You’d spent nearly an hour in the shower, shaved and exfoliated, lathered your body in lotion until you were silky smooth, spritzed on the perfume that always drove him wild, spent extra time on your hair and makeup, showed up to his office to surprise him, and…nothing.

He didn’t even look up when you’d seductively unbuttoned the long black wool coat and let it slip off your shoulders to pool on the floor around your heels, leaving you in a red lacy lingerie set that left very little to the imagination.

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

It had been like this for weeks now. A shipment had been stolen from the docks, and it had incited chaos. The Gnucci’s were pointing fingers at the Russians, the Russians were threatening to retaliate for the disrespect, and Billy had been drawn right into the middle of it because his guys were supposed to be the protection. You’d barely seen him at all lately.

“You know you’re not supposed to be out ‘til this dies down-”

“You’ve been saying that for over a month, William. I can’t stay cooped up in that goddamn penthouse, alone, anymore.”

Billy let out a frustrated exhale through his nose, leaning back in his chair to look at you, not even reacting to what you were wearing or how you looked, which had your stubborn confidence deflating.

“Would you quit bein’ a fuckin’ brat? I’m sorry you’re mad I can’t be up your ass right now, but I’m in the middle of some serious shit. Preventin’ an all out gang war is a bit more important than you gettin’ fucked. Christ, you act like you ain’t got toys to tide you over.”

His words incinerated you, and you reached down to rip your coat off the floor angrily.

“At least the only time those toys disappoint me is when the fucking batteries die. And if they can keep me satisfied, then what the hell do I need you for?”

Billy’s eyes darkened at your venomous words, but he could hear the clear hurt in your voice beneath the vexation, and it bothered him. It wasn’t like he enjoyed being away from you lately. He was frustrated that this situation had even happened, but he was more worried that if he didn’t handle it, someone might try to hurt you just to get back at him. 

Letting out a sigh, he rubbed his palm down his face as you hastily pulled your coat back on. 

“Look, just…hang on a minute, darlin’.”

He knew he was being unfair to you. The two of you had a very healthy sex life, or did, up until a month ago. He knew this attitude was purely sexual frustration, and you weren’t gonna calm down until you got what you wanted. 

And Billy could never deny you.

He glanced over at his office door, his eyes lingering on it for a moment seemingly in thought before they flickered back to you. 

“I know what you need, baby.”

The sudden saccharine softness of his voice perplexed you, a stark contrast to how he’d spoken to you just moments before, and the wicked smirk that stretched across his mouth clued you in that he was up to something, but you had no idea what. Before you could even ask, his eyes flickered over to the door again and he called out.

“Hey, Frankie.”

A few seconds later, the door opened, and a familiar figure stepped in, causing you to quickly wrap your coat around yourself tightly to protect your modesty as you shot Billy an incredulous look. He seemed to not have a care in the world that you were standing there in lingerie when Frank walked into the room.

“Yeah?”

Billy loosened the tie around his neck as he looked at Frank, gesturing to you with a nod of his head. 

“Take care of my girl, would ya? She’s feelin’ a bit neglected.”

Your eyes nearly popped out of your head as you gawked at Billy. Your brain refused to process the words that passed through your ears. Did he just offer you to Frank?

“What the fuck, Billy?”

“What? My hands are tied up right now, baby. Frank’s ain’t.”

All at once your cheeks flushed with heat, though you weren’t sure if it was from anger or embarrassment. Billy was serious. He was actually fucking serious. Frank, who had said maybe seven words to you the entire six months that you’d known him, seemed completely unphased by Billy’s command. You weren’t naive about who Billy was and what he did, and there was no naivety towards Frank either. 

You didn’t know much about Frank, other than that Billy had known him for a long time, was the person Billy trusted most in the world, and did virtually whatever Billy asked of him, no matter what it was. 

But would he do this?

He stood there with that broody expression you swore was permanent, the look in his dark brown eyes as unreadable as ever. He was like a statue. A big, broad, grumpy statute that communicated through grunts ninety percent of the time. He was the polar opposite of Billy in every way. While Billy was all designer labels, flirty charm, and a perfectly polished appearance, Frank was more rugged, a bit abrasive, and seemed to only own one pair of boots.

You were so completely dumbfounded, it took you a moment to stutter out an apology.

“I…God, Frank, I’m so sorry. I don’t…I have no idea why he-”

“Don’t worry ‘bout it. How you want it?”

You weren’t sure what it was that sent the tingle down your spine; his blunt question, or the rough baritone of his voice. Had he always sounded like that? You couldn’t remember. He never said much to you, and maybe you’d never paid him much attention because he was so goddamn intimidating. He was also so quiet that sometimes you forgot he was even in the room, which seemed impossible, because how the hell do you miss a man that looks like he could snap you in half and build a house with his bare hands.

“W-What?”

“You gotta tell me what you want, sweetheart.”

All you could do was blink in bewilderment. Sweetheart. Oh, that shouldn’t have sounded as good as it did coming from his soft looking lips. Was he actually agreeing to this? Were you actually considering it? Was this a test? You looked over at Billy in utter astonishment, trying to gauge what he was thinking, but his attention had already drifted. He was typing something on his phone when he chimed in to fill your silence.

“She likes bein’ told what to do, Frankie. You’re gonna have to take the reins.” 

“That right?”

Frank wasn’t looking at Billy. He was looking at you. And that stormy look in his eyes seemed to have eclipsed into something that made heat bloom in your lower belly. His eyes were roving over the long black wool coat like he could see right through it, lingering on the exposed skin of your legs before meeting your wide eyed gaze. He kept his eyes locked on you as he calmly sat down in one of the plush chairs, spreading his thick thighs wide.

“Show me what you got on under there, yeah?”

Part of you was still struggling to understand what was happening. That little voice in the back of your head was trying to tell you this was a bad idea, coming up with a million reasons to just walk out that door and question Billy in private later to figure out what the fuck he was thinking. But another part of you, a stronger part, wanted to be selfish and give into the aching hunger that was begging to be sated. 

A toy could only do so much. A toy couldn’t bend you over and leave hand prints on your ass. A toy couldn’t pull your hair and whisper breathy praises. A toy couldn’t play with your nipples while it ate you out. You needed more. 

“Don’t be shy now, baby. Be a good girl and do what you’re told.”

Billy’s further taunts aggravated you. He was the one who had been neglecting you, and now he had the audacity to tease you. He didn’t seem to care if you fucked Frank, so why should you? The way Frank was looking at you, even all covered up by your coat, he may have been following Billy’s orders, but he wanted it. He wanted you.

So fuck it.

This time when you let the coat slip off your shoulders, you got the reaction you wanted. A sharp intake of breath, a dilation of pupils, evidence of desire beginning to strain against a zipper. Frank shamelessly let his eyes travel up and down your body, his ravenous gaze meeting yours once again as he patted his thigh in a silent command you were all too eager to obey. He didn’t reach out and grab you once you were standing between his spread legs, he just stared up at you and patted his thigh again.

“Sit.”

Your fingertips lightly trembled as you reached your hands out to grab onto his broad shoulders, lowering yourself down to straddle his lap. You could feel the heat radiating from his chest, and the firm muscle beneath his shirt. You’d never been this close to him before. He smelled like mint and black coffee, and something…earthy. Something masculine. It made you dizzy. 

“Are you gonna touch me?”

The edge of Frank’s mouth quirked up in a smirk as he tilted his head to the side a little, amusement twinkling in his eyes.

“You want me to touch you?”

You gave a nod of your head, but that didn’t satisfy Frank.

“Use your words, pretty girl.”

Tightening your grip on his shoulders, you leaned in to brush your nose against his. You wondered if he could feel your heart pounding against his chest, and a needy noise you’d never heard yourself make escaped.

“Please just touch me, Frank. I don’t have the patience to beg-”

“Relax sweetheart, I ain’t gonna make you beg. Just makin’ sure you’re okay with this, that’s all.”

Frank lifted his hand to cradle your jaw. His hand was rough with calluses, and there was a lingering scent of gunpowder on his skin. He traced your bottom lip with the pad of his thumb, and when your lips instinctively parted, he slipped two of his fingers into your mouth, pressing down on your warm wet tongue. Letting out a soft noise, you licked at his fingers and started to suck, while his other hand found your hip and pulled you closer on his lap.

“That’s it, good girl.”

When he pulled you closer, it made you grind against the large bulge in his jeans, and the friction of rough denim against your thin damp lacy thong made your eyes flutter. The sound of his gravely voice granting you praise had you nearly on the brink of coming already. God, you probably could come like this, sucking on Frank’s fingers and dry humping him. Something told you that he probably wouldn’t mind.

When he pulled his fingers out of your mouth, there was a string of your saliva connected between his digits and your lips, stretching until it silently snapped. Slipping his hand down between your thighs, he hooked his finger into your thong and pulled it to the side, and the moment his slick fingers made contact with your wet pussy, it was like a jolt to your system and a sharp moan of relief escaped.

“Oh, sweetheart.”

Frank leaned in to leave open mouthed wet kisses along your neck, not wasting any time in finding your aching clit and giving it the attention it craved. One of your hands found the back of his neck while your other gripped his shoulder, your nails sinking into his flesh beneath the fabric of his shirt. You could hear how wet you were, could hear the obscene sound of Frank’s fingers playing with your pussy, and it made you shudder.

“This what you wanted?”

The sound of your blood rushing in your ears and your own pleasure drowned out Billy’s voice in the background, talking to someone on the phone. You’d almost forgotten he was there. All you could focus on was Frank. The expert motion of his fingers, the sound of his alluring voice, the dedication to your pleasure. Unlike Billy, Frank didn’t hesitate to give you exactly what you wanted. No teasing, no games. It was impossible to not give into your selfish greed. 

“Frank…more…”

“Yeah? Tell me what you want, pretty girl. Whatever you want, you can have it.”

Your hands slipped between your bodies, blindly fumbling for his belt buckle. Frank let out a quiet grunt and pulled back to look at you, a lazy smirk stretched over his lips.

“You wanna ride me, sweetheart?”

Clawing at the leather of his belt, you nodded breathlessly as you popped the button on his jeans, tugging at the zipper. A deep chuckle rumbled in his chest as he lifted his hips to shove his jeans and briefs down just enough for his hard cock to spring free, giving your ass a firm smack.

“Well go on, then.”

As soon as you started to sink down onto him, your jaw went slack and your eyes nearly rolled. Frank was big, much bigger than Billy. His thick girth stretching out your tight cunt elicited a delicious symphony of pleasure and pain, and once he bottomed out, a strangled moan tore from your throat.

“Oh God-”

Behind you, Billy stopped pacing in front of the large floor to ceiling windows.

“Sorry, one sec. Frankie, keep her quiet, would ya?”

Billy’s voice sounded miles away in your head despite his presence behind you. When Frank clamped his palm over your mouth, a moan was muffled by his rough skin. You couldn’t explain why that turned you on even more, or why the thought of Billy watching you get fucked by his best friend while still doing business had you buzzing with exhilaration.

It should have made you feel guilty and ashamed, or at least that’s what you had expected to feel. Fucking Frank was one thing, but fucking him in front of Billy…it shouldn’t have been as exciting as it was. Maybe a twisted part of you got satisfaction from it. Even though Billy was the one that had suggested it, in your mind it was his punishment for neglecting you. Then again…maybe Billy didn’t see it that way. Maybe he wanted to watch. You couldn’t see him straddling Frank’s lap like this, but you could feel his eyes on you. You knew he was watching.

Like a lightning strike, a sudden spark of realization shocked your system, illuminating something you hadn’t been able to put together at first. Billy’s casual offer. Frank’s uninhibited acceptance. The weight of your boyfriend’s heated stare.

They’d done this before.

You weren’t sure if Billy just liked watching his best friend fuck his girlfriends, if they participated in regular threesomes, or what the deal was, but the nonchalant attitude they both had towards this situation made it very clear this was not some out of the blue occurrence. And that…well…that generated several different emotions and questions. You weren’t sure why, but that epiphany had you feeling more impetuous, more bold and eager to fully surrender to your intrinsic desires. 

If Billy wanted a show, you’d give him a fucking show.

Tugging Frank’s hand away from your mouth, you leaned in for a messy top lip kiss, and his tongue instinctively sought yours out, inviting himself past your parted lips. The passion you normally resolved for your boyfriend was fully unleashed on Frank, and he willingly drowned in it. He gripped your hips with both hands now, guiding your rhythm as you rocked your hips against his, riding him harder and faster as you gained confidence. The feeling of his rough hands exploring your soft skin, kneading and squeezing, grabbing your ass and giving it encouraging spanks, it all had you moaning into his mouth. 

“Fuck…Frank…”

“Yeah, baby? What is it?”

He murmured against your neck, trailing warm messy open mouthed kisses along your neck, nipping at your skin and flicking his tongue over your bitten flesh to soothe the sting.

Letting your head dip back to offer more of yourself to him, your eyes fluttered while continuing to roll your hips, alternating between bouncing on his cock and riding him at a more languid pace, fully indulging in having him inside you.  

“It’s so fucking big…”

Frank nuzzled his large nose against the underside of your jaw, one of his hands gripping your waist while his other splayed over your lower back, gliding up and down your skin in a soothing caress.

“Takin’ it so well, yeah? You’re bein’ such a good girl, ain’t you?”

The wrecked whimper you let out in response had him letting out a quiet grunt, his tongue gliding over your lips which eagerly parted to seek out his kiss.

“Say it for me, sweetheart. Tell me you’re a good girl.”

Purely just to be a brat and get back at Billy for how he’d treated you for the past month, you wrapped both of your arms around Frank’s neck and fully pressed yourself against him, kissing him eagerly before moaning in pleasure.

“I’m your good girl.”

Billy was a jealous and possessive man by nature, which was a total juxtaposition to the fact that he shared his women with Frank. You weren’t sure what it was about Frank specifically that caused Billy to want to share, and maybe your little stunt wouldn’t make him jealous at all, but you knew Billy and you knew that praising Frank’s big dick and saying you were his girl had to appeal to Billy’s ego. Maybe he’d get pissed and make you pay for it later in bed. Maybe he’d feel challenged and join you and Frank.

Either way, you were getting what you wanted.

“Atta girl. Such a pretty…perfect…good girl. Ridin’ me so good, baby…you got the best pussy, you know that? Keep ridin’ me like that, you’re gonna make me come.”

The praise he whispered into your ear in his gravely voice, the filthy things that sounded so sweet from his soft lips, it was all driving you wild, and he grunted when he felt your cunt clenching around his cock.

He slipped his hand between your thighs, his thumb finding your swollen clit again, and before the wrecked moan could escape your lips, he clamped his other hand over your mouth again. Letting your head fall back, you gripped onto Frank’s shirt, clawing at it while he bucked his hips upwards, making you bounce on his cock as he fervently rubbed at your clit.

“C’mon sweetheart…I know you’re right there, yeah? Come for me, pretty girl.”

It suddenly felt like you’d been staring directly into the sun, your eyes fluttering as monochromatic confetti exploded behind your eyelids. The tension that had been tightly coiled within you was expelled instantly as you writhed on Frank’s lap, making a mess on his lap with a flood of euphoria. It felt like you were floating, your body buzzing with bliss, and Frank let out a breathy chuckle when you slumped against him.

“You still with us, darlin’?”

You hadn’t even heard Billy approach, but when he started to stroke your hair, the scent of his expensive cologne pulled you back to the present. It also made you suddenly aware of just how selfish you’d been. Pulling back to sit up, with Frank’s assistance, you looked at him in almost an apologetic daze.

“You didn’t-”

“Shh shh shh.”

Billy wrapped his hand around your throat as he pressed against you from behind, and you could feel his hard on nudging against your lower back. His thumb gently caressed your jaw as he bent down to kiss your temple. You kept your eyes on Frank, watching his broad shoulders rise and fall from how hard he was breathing, hearing the exertion in his heavy pants that escaped his parted lips, feeling his hands still holding your waist tightly, keeping you anchored to his lap.

“I think you should tell Frank thank you for bein’ so generous, don’t you, darlin’?”

Billy was already lifting you off of Frank’s lap, earning a quiet grunt from Frank when he slipped out of you, and a broken whine from you at the sudden emptiness you felt. Before you could protest, Billy lowered you down onto your shaky knees in front of Frank, your hands darting out to grip his thick thighs through his jeans to steady yourself. Frank’s cock was glistening with your juices, and he gathered your cream that had dripped down with the same two fingers he’d put in your mouth, bringing them up to his lips to lick them clean, keeping eye contact with you the entire time. The noise you let out made Billy chuckle, and you heard the familiar jingle of a belt buckle and a zipper being undone.

“I think she likes sharin’, Frankie.”

Placing his hand between your shoulder blades, Billy made you bend over until Frank’s cock was right in your face, and you could feel the blunt head of his own cock notching at your drenched gaping entrance. Frank reached down and brushed his thumb over your bottom lip, his eyes still locked on you, a grin stretching across his mouth.

“Think I do too.”

tags: @strawberrycheesecake262 @lacilou

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Day one of your argument you stayed strong and moved through the house like a queen in a castle that had been overrun by a jealous beast.

Your skincare routine? Luxurious.

Your work calls? On point.

Your outfit? A soft two-piece lounge set that hugged every curve like it missed you.

When dinner came, you threw yourself into it like you were being judged on Top Chef. You marinated lamb chops for hours. Cooked up homemade honey butter biscuits with a dash of cayenne in the butter… just the way… he… liked it. But you made it very clear: that plate was yours and yours alone.

As you cooked, Smoke lingered around the kitchen and his massive frame leaned against the fridge while watching you plate your meal like a hawk. His nostrils flared as his eyes burned holes into your skin. He couldn’t believe his woman wasn’t offering him a plate of food, but he also wasn’t a man who would beg.

While completely ignoring his existence, you sat at the dining table with your legs crossed, lips glistening with lamb jus and smirking between each bite like you were daring him to say something. He didn’t. But oh, the look he gave you… Girl run

When Saturday rolled in the silence started to feel dangerous. This was the one day out of the week when Smoke would usually hit the gym with Stack, run errands he couldn’t get to during the week and any other ‘man shit’ that you didn’t care to know about. But not today. Today, that man made it a point to stay his ass at home. All. Damn. Day. And worse? He did it wearing only grey sweatpants and no shirt.

Every inch of Smoke was carved out of marble by God. Smooth brown skin stretched over thick muscle and broad shoulders. His gold chains swung low, catching the light every time he reached for something. And those damn sweatpants? They hung low. Way too damn low while leaving nothing to the imagination.

You were sitting on the couch, pretending to scroll through your phone, but your eyes kept sliding up catching every stretch, every shift, and every flex Smoke would make.

When he purposefully reached his arm up to stretch, that’s when he caught you. “Fuck you staring at?” His voice was deep and sharp. His lips curled into a smirk even as his eyes narrowed, knowing exactly what you were doing.

Your mouth went dry but you sucked your teeth and rolled your eyes before firing back just as sharp. “Ain’t nobody looking at you, nigga.” You turned your head fast, placed a nearby throw blanket onto your lap, and squeezed your thighs shut like you weren’t damn near vibrating with need.

Smoke let out a scoff and dropped onto the armchair across from you, legs spread wide, one hand rubbing the scruff along his jaw, the other dragging down his thigh like he didn’t know what that did to you. But he knew. Of course he knew. Because he’s a SLUT. Smoke was a man born with sin in his bloodstream and you were his favorite outlet.

“You real bold when your pussy hungry,” he goaded without looking at you, just low enough to make your stomach flip. “Real fuckin’ bold.”

You didn’t respond. Your throat tightened and your fingers curled into the blanket as heat spread between your thighs like wildfire. You hated how your body betrayed you. How your nipples perked beneath your tank top just from hearing his voice like that. How your lower belly tightened at the memory of his mouth, his hands, his— Stop. You weren’t going to fold. Not this time. No. This time you had a point to prove… So you stayed quiet.

Smoke leaned forward then, his forearms braced on his knees, honey brown eyes finally locking with yours. He was so beautiful it made your chest hurt. That hard jaw. That slow burn in his stare. The way his gold tooth caught the light when he smirked.

“You gon’ act like you don’t hear me? I said…” he repeated, his voice dropping lower, rougher, “… you real bold when your pussy hungry.”

You tossed the blanket off your lap like a challenge and stood up, storming past him toward the kitchen. But before you could make it, his hand snatched your wrist. “Don’t touch me,” you snapped.

“I ain’t touchin’ you,” he said coolly, pulling you gently, slow and patient, until you were standing right between his legs. “I’m remindin’ you. That mouth? That attitude? That little fake-ass silent treatment you think you givin’? That shit don’t work on me, pretty girl.”

He looked up at you like you were the last good thing in a ruined world. And then his eyes dropped trailing slowly down your body, soaking in every soft curve, every part of you he knew like scripture. “Go on. Keep walkin’ away,” he muttered, voice like hardened steel. “But I know damn well you miss how it feel when I grab the back of that neck and tell you to hush while I—”

“Don’t.” You said it too fast. Too breathless.

He grinned. That arrogant grin that made your knees weak and your pride falter. “You really mad?” he asked quietly, now wrapping a hand around your thigh and easing you a fraction closer. “Or you just don’t wanna admit that I had a reason to knock that pretty boy barista out his damn shoes?”

You sarcastically laughed at Smoke’s audacity. “That man smiled. That’s it. You almost went to jail over a smile.”

“Don’t care.” He leaned forward, nose brushing against your lower belly, breath warm through the cotton of your tank. “Anyone smile at you like that again, I’ll put him in the dirt.”

You stared down at him, your fingers twitching by your sides. “You’re a damn lunatic.”

“Yup.” His eyes lifted, black and unrepentant. “Your lunatic.”

You wanted to slap him. You wanted to kiss him. You wanted to scream and bite and ride and cry and maybe all at once. But instead, you turned your head, stared at the wall, and whispered, “Don’t talk to me.”

Smoke scoffed and his grip tightened before he kissed the inside of your thigh, right on that special spot that always makes you forget how to think straight. The kiss was gentle… dangerous… knowing “Aight, baby,” his voice muffled against your skin. “I won’t say a word.” But the fire in those orbs told a different story.

When you finally pulled away, storming back into the kitchen to cool down, you could feel his stare trailing behind you like a shadow with claws. You stood next to the kitchen island hoping for a moment of peace but instead your heart rattled like a stray bullet in your chest. The room felt too hot, too still… way too still, like the moment right before a thunderstorm when all the air gets sucked out of the sky and the ground doesn’t know whether to shake or stay still.

You ran your hands through your hair and let out a frustrated sigh. After 24 hours of being strong, you couldn’t let yourself fold from a little thigh kiss. You weren’t even hungry, but your hands moved on autopilot, opening the fridge, grabbing things, pretending like your body wasn’t still humming from the feel of his mouth on your thigh.

Smoke wasn’t slick and you weren’t safe. Not from him and not from the heat building up under your skin like it was trying to boil you alive. Behind you, the sound of the armchair creaking and his footsteps thumping across the hardwood made you hold your breath. You didn’t bother turning, you already knew the look on his face was smug and cocky like he was just biding time until your pride finally tapped out.

“You heavy-footed on purpose?” you muttered without looking at him. “Or you tryna make sure I know you comin’ so I don’t swing a skillet at your head?”

Smoke didn’t say a word but you heard the slow grind of his teeth and a slight click when his tongue hit the back of them. Then, the fridge door beside you opened. His arm brushed yours with intent and his skin was as hot as a stovetop. He reached in and grabbed a bottle of water, twisted the cap off, and took a long, long drink like he had been parched since war-time.

You still didn’t give him the satisfaction of looking at him. Instead you stopped fiddling with the random assortment of ingredients and crossed your arms under your chest so tightly your hands started going numb. But none of that mattered. Smoke was standing so close now with his presence wrapping around you like a weighted blanket made of lustful desire, silently daring you to keep dismissing him.

“You really don’t want me talkin’ to you?” he asked finally with his tone full of challenge. “Even though your thighs damn near gave up and invited me in just now?”

You turned your head and squinted your eyes at him. “You punched an innocent man for smiling at me!”

“And I said a barista don’t need to be starin’ at what’s mine like he got a fuckin’ chance!”

“You don’t own me, Elijah,” you mumbled.

That was the first time you’d said his real name in days. And you had the nerve to use it while telling him that he doesn’t own you.

Smoke’s jaw ticked. His nostrils flared. And then he laughed like he couldn’t believe he was having this conversation with you right now. “I don’t own you?” he repeated, stepping in now, cornering you against the counter. “You right… You right, you grown, huh? Real grown. Is that why you been sittin’ in this house clenching your lil thighs every time I so much as stretch?”

“Back up,” you whispered. It didn’t sound as strong as you wanted it to. Not when your back hit the cold of the cabinet and your front was all warm-blooded temptation and hard muscle.

Smoke leaned in like a snake slithering across grass before striking its prey. His lips brushed your ear, and his voice dropped to a place that made your belly twist. “Tell me to back up one more time, baby,” he taunted, “and mean it.”

You swallowed thickly, chest rising fast beneath your thin top.

His hand settled on the counter beside your hip, the other drifting ever so gently down the side of your arm, brushing like a warning. “Say it,” he taunted again. “Or let me remind you why you don’t ever sleep right unless I’m wrapped around you.”

Now it was your turn to clench your jaw but your breath betrayed you. Your thighs pressed together again, heat rushing back like a tidal wave. “Why you always gotta be like this?” you breathed, voice barely holding on.

He chuckled darkly. “Because I know what’s mine.” His hand slid beneath your shirt, fingers brushing the dip of your waist. “And I know when she lyin’… putting on a front.” He kissed your neck just once to test the waters. It was soft but full of possession.

And when you didn’t stop him, when you didn’t shove him away, he nipped your collarbone and muttered, “You gon’ keep fightin’ me or you gon’ let Daddy fix this?”

“I’m still mad at you,” you said, even as your fingers gripped his sweatpants.

“Stay mad then,” he growled, lifting you up onto the counter like you weighed nothing. “But don’t pretend you don’t need me.”

It took all your might to not whimper when his hand slid between your thighs, the heat of his palm making your eyes roll back. “I told… you not… to talk to me,” you gasped.

Smoke smirked against your throat. “Then put that pretty lil pussy in my face and shut me up.”

Your eyes squinted into a glare and heat rushed up your neck as your lips parted in disbelief. Your body wanted him. Badly. But your mind… that damn stubborn, bratty, prideful-ass mind was not about to let him win this round so easily.

And so… you did what any unhinged woman dating Elijah Moore would do and shoved a hand into his perfect face… and mushed him. What color roses do you want at your funeral? You pushed his cocky expression away like you were slapping a mosquito. The suddenness made him take a step back, just long enough for you to hop down from the counter in one quick motion and scurry away like a rabbit setting itself free from a snare.

“I said don’t talk to me, nigga!” you yelled, snatching your composure back like a silk robe off the floor.

You stormed out the kitchen, and tossed a middle finger over your shoulder. “And put some damn clothes on! Walkin’ ‘round this house like I could buy you for the night with two dollars and a half-stick of gum!”

Smoke stood still like a statue and for a second he didn't know if he was dreaming or if his woman was truly out of her damn mind. Then that low, dangerous laugh rolled from his chest like thunder over wet concrete. It was a sound that did nothing but pour gasoline on the flames already licking between your thighs. He loved when you got like this, wild-eyed, stubborn-lipped, and sass pouring from your throat like it was made of honey and broken glass.

He knew you’d fold. And when you did… he’d be the one to catch you.

The rest of the day you avoided Smoke like the floor was lava and he was the devil waiting at the bottom. You locked yourself in your shared bedroom and buried yourself in the sheets like they could protect you from the walking sin on the other side of the door. You distracted yourself for hours. Scrolled through your phone. Scrolled again. Played lo-fi beats. Switched to gospel. Thought about cooking. Decided not to because that would involve you leaving your sanctuary. Thought about apologizing. Decided not to because it would be a cold day in hell before you apologize to him. Thought about touching yourself… Absolutely did not… yet.

Eventually, your body gave in to exhaustion. The softness of the pillows, the hum of the AC in the background and the scent of Smoke lingering on the sheets rocked you into a tense, twitchy sleep. And then your mind betrayed you.

Of course your unconscious mind decided to betray you as you went off into dreamland. Dream-Smoke had his mouth everywhere on your body. On your neck. Down your chest. Between your thighs. This version of Smoke was utterly ruthless. He said your name like it was a threat and a prayer. His hands gripped your legs like he was holding onto the only thing that made sense in this godforsaken world.

“Open up, baby. Yeah, just like that…”

Your body arched in your sleep, your mouth parted, a soft moan fluttering against the dark. And right when you were about to reach that shimmering edge, Dream-Smoke pulled back and taunted in your ear, “Shouldn’t’ve told me not to talk, huh?”

You gasped yourself awake and the bedroom was cloaked in darkness, only a soft sliver of moonlight slipped between the curtains. Your chest heaved and your pajama shorts were damn near soaked through. The cotton stuck to your core like it had a vendetta. A frown pulled at your lips and a tear slid down your cheek before you could stop it.

You turned your head to look at the blinking alarm clock through wet eyes and frowned again. It was currently 2:03 AM and you couldn’t believe you somehow slept the entire the day away.

Peaking over your shoulder you let out a disgruntled sigh. Smoke was laid out like he didn’t have a care in the world. One arm slung behind his head, chest rising and falling with calm, heavy breaths. That same damn pair of grey sweatpants still clung to his hips. He looked peaceful. Angelic even. You wanted to punch him and make him suffer for what Dream-Smoke started but didn’t finish. But since you already got away with mushing him in the face you didn’t want to test your luck and simply whined.

A shaky, bratty, needy whimper left your throat as you wiped your still falling tears and leaned over, gently nudging Smoke's shoulder. He grunted and cracked one eye open. “What, baby?” His voice was sleep-worn and you tried not to focus on what hearing it was doing to your already wounded up body.

You pouted in the dark, nose wrinkled, lips trembling. “This is ALL your fault.”

Raising your voice early in the morning got Smoke’s full attention and he blinked slowly, as the remnants of sleep cleared from his face like a curtain lifting. His eyes found you in the moonlit darkness. You looked so adorable to him, pouty-lipped, flushed cheeks, and thighs pressed tightly together under the covers.

“The fuck you yellin’ at me for and cryin’ this early in the morning?” he asked, now fully awake, his tone clipped with concern and confusion.

You sniffled. “I… I need… I want… I want… to touch myself,” you admitted, lip quivering dramatically. “And since I’m still mad at you… I need you to leave the bed.”

Smoke blinked once at you and then again into the darkness like he was on an episode of The Office. He didn’t expect to be so entertained by your antics today and he started to chuckle to himself. This wasn’t a typical ‘I love how bratty my girl is acting’ type of laugh. No, this was a dark, ‘this girl done lost her fuckin’ mind’ laugh.

“You woke me up,” he said slowly, to make sure he got all the details correct, “to tell me that you’re horny… and I need to leave our bed… so you can touch what belongs to me?”

Your throat tightened. When Smoke repeated everything out loud it did sound kind of insane but that was besides the point. “You heard me,” you said, lifting your chin and pointing it to the door. “Now go.”

Smoke let out a final chuckle and didn’t move. He leaned back on one elbow, eyes gleaming in the dark like he could see the mess you’d become under those covers. “You really out here throwin’ tantrums at two in the morning ‘cause you can’t handle how badly you want me to fuck that attitude out of you?” he teased.

“I am handling it,” you bit back. “I’m asking you to leave. Like a grown woman.”

His tongue slid along the inside of his cheek. Then he reached down, adjusted himself in those sweats just slightly, and let out a hum that made your thighs twitch. “You sure?” he asked gently, like he was talking to a skittish wild animal about to bolt. “You sure you want me to leave, baby?”

“Yes,” you whispered, even as your legs squirmed beneath the blanket. “I don’t need you. I can do it myself.”

“Mhm… is that right...”

Smoke sat up slowly before swinging his legs off the side of the bed. He stood to his full height and then without saying another word he discarded his sweatpants, letting the moonlight shine on his intimidating half-hard manhood. You sat in complete shock, unsure what to say or what to do. Your mouth stayed agape and you could’ve sworn you didn’t breathe for 2 minutes, Your whole body burned with need and you hated this feeling.

And he spoke again in a cruel velvet-slick tone, “Go on then.” He climbed back in bed and laid on his back with his hands behind his head like he didn’t just take his pants off. “Show me how you don’t need me.”

The silence that followed was so thick it felt like smoke itself. It crackled with the weight of what you wanted to do and what your pride wouldn’t allow. Your fingers trembled under the blanket. You hated him, yet you wanted him. And you hated how badly you wanted him. All of this only made the leaking faucet between your thighs turn into a full blown fire hose.

He bit his bottom lip before antagonizing you. “Might help if you stop cryin’, baby. You can’t see your lil fingers down there with all them tears foggin’ up your eyesight.”

Your fists balled with annoyance but your thighs began to slightly part. Smoke didn’t move or touch you. He didn’t even acknowledge the way he could smell your sweet aroma in the room. He just gave you a look that said, ‘You can play this game all night, pretty girl… I’ll be here when you break.’

And you were so, so close to shattering. You stared at him like he’d summoned a demon into the room and dared you to dance with it.

Smoke stretched his long body across the bed like he was on display. Like he wasn’t a man who just dropped his pants in the middle of a silent standoff and dared you to stay proud. With his arms folded beneath his head, the swell of his chest rose and fell as if he weren’t aware of the war going on inside your body. The tension. The hunger. The absolute need that clawed at your insides like a caged animal. His dick sat heavy between his thighs, thick and idle, like it had time to wait. Like it knew it would be fed eventually.

“You got five seconds before I close my eyes and go back to sleep,” he grumbled without looking at you. “So go ahead. Get to rubbin’. Let me hear how good you make yourself feel without my help.”

Your lip trembled. You weren’t crying anymore, not from frustration anyway. But your thighs were sticky, your panties were soaked through, and every nerve ending in your body was throbbing like you’d been edgewalking through purgatory. Still… you weren’t gonna give him the satisfaction of begging. So you huffed in a loud and obnoxious manner before wiping your cheeks like a toddler who just got scolded. You then yanked the covers off your body and laid flat on your back beside him, arms stiff at your sides.

Smoke turned his head slightly, one brow arched. “Thought you said you didn’t need me,” he said, tone sharp and mocking.

“I don’t,” you snapped. “I just need space.”

He smirked. “You sound stupid.”

You glared at the ceiling. “You look stupid.”

Another beat of silence. Then your hand slowly dragged beneath the waistband of your pajama shorts, and your breath hitched. You weren’t even doing anything yet, and your whole body tensed like you were about to commit a crime.

Smoke didn’t move but he watched from the corner of his eye. You could feel his eyes burning into the side of your face, heavy and loaded. Like if he blinked, he might miss the exact moment you broke. Your fingers brushed against your panties and found them soaked, the cotton clinging to your folds like it was trying to apologize for being in the way. You let out a shaky breath and your fingers twitched as you slid them beneath the fabric and gently grazed your clit.

The behemoth of a man next to you exhaled through his nose but he didn’t say a word as he continued to observe. You rubbed slow circles, small and hesitant, still stubborn as hell and still trying to prove a point you were seconds from losing as a soft and breathy moan slipped out.

Smoke turned his head toward you fully now, his gaze dark and unreadable. “You always make yourself sound so pretty,” he said, voice lower now, rough and molten. “But it don’t hit the same, do it?”

You didn’t answer him but your hips rolled in response to his question. Your hand moved faster. Your breath stuttered. Your back arched. Still—not a word. You didn’t plead or cry for help. To prove your point you used your own hand and held back the silent scream in your throat. Then you finally felt it… that build. It climbed your spine and tingled through your limbs, coiling low and tight in your belly like lightning trapped behind your navel. But just as your toes curled and your moans grew louder… Smoke’s hand slammed down on your wrist and you yelped.

He was above you now, face inches from yours, his chest heaving, lips parted. “That’s enough,” he growled. “This little show? Over.”

“Wha—? I didn’t even—” you started, but he cut you.

“You really gon’ make yourself cum when I’m layin’ right here?” he snapped, pressing your wrist into the mattress with one hand while the other dragged your shorts down in one brutal yank. “Tryna act like you in control of somethin’ when this pussy don’t even belong to you no more?”

You whimpered as his mouth crashed into yours, all heat and dominance, devouring your lips like he was punishing you for breathing without permission. His tongue pushed into your mouth while his hips settled between your thighs, and you could feel all of him, heavy and hot, grinding against your bare heat.

“You should’ve just asked,” he murmured against your mouth, voice trembling with restraint.

You blinked up at him, dazed and breathless. “Asked… what?”

“If I was done bein’ mad,” he answered, dragging his tip along your soaked entrance, teasing but never pushing in. “Cause I wasn’t. Not yet.” And with that he slid in excruciatingly slow. So slow you nearly blacked out.

“Now,” he growled, gripping your throat just enough to make your heart flutter, “you don’t talk to me.”

Your breath caught in your throat as he filled you inch by inch, until all nine inches of his rock hard flesh stretched you out causing your back arch off the bed. Once he was completely sheathed inside of your warm gummy walls Smoke didn’t move. Not yet. He held himself still with his hand still resting on your throat—not choking, just a firm reminder of who was in control. Of whose name was stitched into the folds of your body like ownership. Like scripture.

Your lashes fluttered as a soft, broken whimper escaped your lips.

“Yeah,” he hummed, watching your face intently. “That’s what I thought.”

The weight of him, the heat, the way his body caged yours like a storm rolling over weak land, every bit of it made your spine tremble. He didn’t have to say it, didn’t need to ask… he already knew. This wasn’t about sex anymore. This was about submission. About surrender. About you thinking you could ignore him, silence him, deny him, and still sleep soundly next to him every night.

His hips rolled meticulously and grinded so deep you swore you saw stars behind your eyes. His pace was punishing in its patience. Purposeful and steady. Like he wanted you to feel the agony he felt every second you ignored him. Every breath you wasted pretending you didn’t need him.

“You really thought you was gon’ touch yourself in this bed?” he grunted, lips ghosting over your jaw as he rocked into you again. “While I laid next to you? Like I ain’t the one that got this pussy cryin’ in the first place?”

You couldn’t even respond. Your mouth opened but no sound came out, just a sharp inhale, a choked moan, and the clenching of your legs around his hips.

He groaned low like he felt your apology in the way your walls pulled him in tighter.

“This one… if for every time you rolled your eyes at me,” THRUST.

“This one… is for every time you walked away from me,” THRUST.

“Fuck… and THIS one is for every time you told me not to talk to you,” SLAM.

You whimpered beneath him, nails digging into his arms as your pride cracked wide open and your body begged to be ruined. You couldn’t handle this torturous unhurried fuck session. You needed your walls plowed to smithereens and you needed it to happen right now. “I hate you,” you gasped.

“Shut up. You love me,” he corrected with a smirk, snapping his hips against yours harder now. “You love me when I got you stuffed full and dumb off my name.”

Your moans turned shameless… so soft, high, and desperate. Each slow thrust had you melting further, your bratty resolve unraveling like a ribbon. And Smoke? He watched the transformation like it was art. “There she go…” he whispered. “There’s my girl. Ain’t no talkin’ now, huh? Just that lil mouth open like you got somethin’ to say… but still don’t know how to say sorry.”

You finally met his gaze, eyes wide and glassy with need. “I’m—” you tried.

He pressed his fingers against your lips. “Nope.” Another thrust. Brutal. Deep. You cried out. “Don’t say shit else to me... Just take it.”

He dipped his head, kissed the corner of your mouth with an intimacy that contrasted the way he was owning you from the inside out. You wrapped your legs tighter around him, hips rising to meet him while chasing the edge of pleasure like you’d die if you didn’t reach it soon.

“I got you,” he whispered, his breath warm and ragged against your ear. “Go on, baby. Let go. Let me take it.”

Your orgasm crept up your spine like a threat, your whole body tightening under him. “Smoke—” you breathed, one hand tangling in the bedsheets beneath you, the other clutching his shoulder like a lifeline.

“I know, I know. Shhh, baby,” he cooed. “Come on. I got you.” And when you finally shattered—mouth open, legs shaking, eyes rolling—he never let up. He kept fucking you through it, hips grinding, mouth pressing kisses to your throat and chest, whispering your name like prayer and punishment all at once.

You went limp beneath him and he pulled back just enough to look you in the face, brushing a lone tear from your cheek. “You still mad?”

You blinked up at him, dazed and ruined. He smirked again. That same crooked, devilish thing that started it all. “Yeah… you look like you still got a fuckin’ attitude.”

Your chest rose and fell in shallow waves with your skin covered in sweat as you lay there boneless and ruined beneath him.

Smoke hovered above you like a storm cloud that refused to pass. His body didn’t press down; he just hovered, solid and still, like a hunter watching his prey breathe after the first strike. His arms caged you on either side, head tilted slightly as his gold chain swung gently from his neck and tapped your collarbone. Your legs still trembled from the aftershock and your thighs involuntarily locked around his waist, trying to pull him closer.

But Smoke didn’t move, he was so deep inside of you that you could barely think. And instead of chasing his own pleasure like any other man might, he just stared and studied you like you were the most precious thing he’s ever laid eyes on. You felt the subtle twitch of him inside you, ready, but not rushing. Not desperate. Because Smoke wasn’t a man ruled by impulse. He was ruled by control. And he wielded it like a blade.

“You done squeezing my dick?” he asked quietly, voice low and relaxed, like he had nowhere else to be but right here. “Or you need a minute to remember where you at?”

You blinked slowly, lips still tingling from where he kissed you, still too blissed out to string a proper sentence together. But he waited—patient, immovable—as your brows knit together, that ache you just got rid of was already building again and you finally realized… he wasn’t finished. He still hadn’t moved. And now, you were too aware of it. Too aware of the way he filled you like he’d been carved just for you. Too aware of the steady rise and fall of his chest. Of how warm and thick and ready he still felt inside you.

“Smoke,” you whined, voice hoarse and fragile.

He cocked a brow, his gold tooth glinting in the dark. “Yeah, baby?”

Your thighs flexed around him again, a needy little roll of your hips that made you whimper even as you tried to hold your pride in place. His hand slid slowly up the side of your throat, fingers curling around the hinge of your jaw to tilt your face up toward his.

“You feel that?” he murmured.

You nodded weakly, lips parting.

“I been sittin’ still. Holdin’ back,” he whispered, each word slipping into your mouth like honey and heat. “You been cryin’, whinin’, beggin’ me to leave. But I ain’t goin’ nowhere, baby.”

He leaned down, forehead nearly touching yours. “I stay when you bratty. Stay when you act like you don’t want me. Stay when you try to punish me with silence.”

A soft, broken sound spilled from your lips.

“I stay… ‘cause you mine.” Then finally… he moved again. Just a slow roll of his hips. Barely there. Just enough to make you feel the stretch again. Just enough to remind your body that your first orgasm was nothing but the beginning. Your nails found his back again, dragging lightly over the skin of his shoulders as your breath caught.

“You thought I was gon’ break first,” he said, dragging himself out slowly before sinking back into you. “Didn’t you?”

You moaned, head tipping back, throat arching beneath his palm.

“You thought that lil attitude was enough to make me lose my cool.” Another thrust. Deep and slow. The kind that made your vision blur.

“But you forgot who you dealin’ with,” he grunted as his lips brushed your ear. “I can fuck this perfect pussy slow like this for hours and still not cum.”

You whimpered again, your hips twitching, your body betraying you as your heat reignited. He kissed the curve of your cheek, your jaw, your ear.

“You don’t get quick fucks when you act like you don’t need me.” His hand slid between your bodies, fingers slipping down until they found that tender, swollen bundle of nerves. “You get discipline.”And as his fingers began to move in calculated devastating circles, his hips continued their cruel rhythm and your body began to shake again.

You could barely breathe. Every inch of your body was coated in sweat, your skin fever-hot, while your senses flooded with overstimulation. Smoke hadn’t let up and he hadn’t sped up either. That was the worst part… or maybe the best. He moved with purpose and mastery. Every grind of his hips was deep, as he poured himself into you like he was trying to combine your souls into one. And his fingers… God. The pads of them circled your clit with such devastating precision, you swore you were unraveling on a molecular level. Like you were coming apart from the inside out.

You gripped at his shoulders, his back, his biceps, wherever you could reach… but you couldn’t stop it. Couldn’t change the pace. Couldn’t make him move faster no matter how much your legs shook or your voice cracked. “P-please,” you breathed, not even sure what you were asking for. Release? Mercy? More?

Smoke leaned down, brushing his lips against your cheek with a smug grin carved into his face. “Oh… You beggin’ now?” he asked. “Wasn’t too long ago you was flippin’ me off and actin’ like I was walkin’ around here like a cheap thrill.”

His voice vibrated against your neck, dragging goosebumps down your spine. “You wanna cum again, pretty girl?” he murmured, fingers pressing down just slightly harder, swirling against your clit like he was drawing a map to your breakdown. “Is that what all them little tears are for?”

You whined, nodding frantically, your thighs beginning to quake again. Smoke didn’t speed up. He didn’t need to. Your body was desperate for him and would greedily take whatever was given. He knew you so well he could fuck you out of a meltdown without ever changing rhythm.

“You don’t deserve to cum yet,” he said lowly, pulling his mouth back to hover just above yours. “But I’m gon’ let you anyway. Just so you remember who got you moaning so loud our neighbors might file a noise complaint tomorrow.”

He moved in again with one solid and controlled stroke that made your eyes roll and your nails dig so deep into his back you swore you could feel muscle give. Your body started to quiver. “No—no, wait—” you whimpered, because you felt it building too fast, the peak rising like a wave with nowhere to go.

“Shhh,” he whispered, voice laced with hunger now, though his pace never changed. “That’s it. Go on. Cum on my dick.”

He kissed you and swallowed your cries as your walls constricted around him and you came again, harder than before. Your body jerked beneath him as your second orgasm crashed through you like a tidal wave smashing through a dam. You sobbed into his mouth, a mix of bliss and frustration and pure, helpless surrender. Your thighs shook uncontrollably and your nails dug into his flesh like he was the only thing keeping you from drifting away.

Smoke pulled back just enough to look at your face that was flushed and tear-streaked, while your mouth hung open in silent shock as you rode the aftershocks. “I don’t think that attitude is gone yet” he rasped, still deep inside you, still hard as stone. “You need another reminder. Don’t you, baby?”

You nodded weakly unable to form words.

Smoke slid his hand up your ribcage, slow and reverent, until he cupped the side of your face. His thumb brushed your bottom lip, tugging it gently. “I ain’t even started your real punishment yet.”

Your heart stuttered.

“Two days you gave me attitude,” he murmured, kissing your chin. “Two days you walked around this house actin’ like you forgot what my name felt like between your thighs… I'm nowhere near done with you yet.”

You gasped, your fingers twitched around his arms, already worn down and so full of him. You didn’t know if it was seconds or minutes or lifetimes that passed with him moving inside you like that—slow, deliberate, dominant. Your body felt swollen with sensation, soaked in the aftermath of two back-to-back orgasms that had left your breath scattered like glass shards across the mattress.

Your skin was hot to the touch, your muscles limp, your mind foggy with a heady mix of defiance and surrender. And through it all, Smoke hadn’t broken his rhythm. His stamina was inhuman, like he fed off control, fed off the way your body twitched and sobbed under his. The way you needed more and hated that it had to come from him.

But then… Something shifted. His eyes… those dark, obsidian things dragged across your face. He licked his lips, slow and thoughtful. Then he pulled back again. All the way out. You cried at the loss of fullness and rose your hips involuntarily trying to chase him. Smoke grinned but it wasn’t a playful or kind grin. Without a word, he grabbed your hips, flipped you over onto your stomach, and yanked your ass up until you were on your knees, chest pressed to the mattress. He spread your legs with his own and ran a hand down your back.

“You said I looked like I could be bought for two dollars and some gum,” he growled, dragging himself against your folds, wet and swollen and already twitching from anticipation.

You swallowed, face buried in the sheets. You remembered and silently cursed to yourself.

He leaned down, mouth grazing your ear as he lined himself up behind you. “Good thing for you, I don’t charge. But I do collect.”

And then he slammed into you. No warning. No patience. The thrust knocked the wind out of your lungs. “E-ELIJAHHHH! F-FUCKKK!” you cried, hands gripping the sheets like a lifeline.

Smoke’s pace was nothing like before. All that held-back heat, all that restraint? Gone. His hips snapped against you with vicious precision, his grip digging into your hips as your ass slapped against him, over and over, filling the room with the sound of skin meeting skin and your broken cries.

“This what you wanted?” he grunted, every word punched out between thrusts. “All that mouth, all that attitude… This what you needed to calm down?”

You couldn’t even answer. Couldn’t form a thought. Your voice was raw with whimpers and your tears stained the pillow as you arched back into him on instinct, chasing every brutal, perfect stroke.

He reached around and grabbed a fistful of your hair, pulling your head back just enough to whisper against your jaw. “You talk big,” he hissed, thrusting deep, “but this pussy always tell the truth.”

You sobbed out a yes. Or maybe his name. Or maybe just a noise—because that’s all you were now. A body molded to his pace. A vessel of heat and ache and want. And then… He slowed again. But this time, his strokes were hard and measured. That had your eyes rolling and your teeth sinking into the pillow to stop yourself from screaming his name like a confession.

“You feel how deep I am?” he groaned, voice thick and low behind you. “You gon’ run your mouth next time a man so much as smiles at you?”

You shook your head quickly, biting down on your bottom lip as you wavered between reality and subspace.

“Use your words,” he demanded before landing hard smacks on your ass that turned your ebony skin bright red.

“No—no, Smo- Daddy! I won’t, I swear—” you gasped, voice choked and high.

“Damn right you won’t.”

He dragged you up by your waist, pulling your back against his chest, one arm wrapping across your ribs, the other snaking down to rub your clit in slow, punishing circles again.

“Let another nigga smile at you again in public and I’ma bend you over right then and there,” he whispered, biting your shoulder. “Make sure everybody knows who you belong to.”

You cried out again, the pleasure building faster than your body could handle. It was too much but you loved every second of it. And Smoke? He was relentless. Focused. Determined to etch his name into your skin, your bones, your fucking soul.

“You gon’ cum one more time for me,” he ordered, fingers working faster now. “And then I’ll think about lettin’ myself nut.”

You couldn’t even reply because your body was already shaking. Your walls were already spasming around his brutal rod. You felt your mind spiral into that place that only he could take you. The place where pride didn’t exist and control was something you gave him freely.

“Go on, baby,” he ordered. “Make my dick shiny. Cum for me.”

And you did. Harder than you’ve ever climaxed before. This orgasm felt spiritual like your soul kissed the feet of God before asking for forgiveness and traveling back into your human vessel. You screamed his name into the pillow like a secret finally confessed, your body convulsed, your legs collapsed beneath you as he held you upright, grunting through clenched teeth.

Smoke held you there, both of you trembling in the twinkling moonlight shining through the bedroom. Your back was slick against his chest, your breath short and stuttering. His arm was still banded tight across your stomach, the other gripping your thigh with bruising intensity, like he didn’t trust his body not to break you if he let it go free. You felt every inch of him—still deep, still pulsing, still holding on with that impossible restraint that made you ache in places words couldn’t touch.

“Fuck… Fuck… Don’t move,” he moaned, his voice cracking down the middle—low, rasped, and dangerous. “Don’t.”

You didn’t dare disobey your man. You were already trembling too hard, barely tethered to your body. Your face was damp with tears, your thighs quaking, your walls still fluttering in waves around him.

“Shit, baby…” he growled, his voice buried somewhere between awe and agony. “You tryin’ to milk me dry, huh?”

You whimpered. Not out of pain. But because you felt it—felt that slow-building quake start to rattle through him. The way his grip tightened. The way his hips stilled just for a beat too long. You felt the flex in his abdomen, the tension coiling at the base of his spine like a spring being wound to the brink of snapping.

Your last orgasm clenched down onto his dick perfectly and now he was close trying to fight against it. You turned your face slightly from the pillow, voice hoarse and barely above a whisper. “Why’re you holdin’ it in?”

Smoke gritted his teeth tightly. “‘Cause once I let go…” he hissed, “you ain’t gon’ be able to walk, let alone keep talkin’ shit like you ain’t mine.”

You shivered under him. “But I am yours,” you whispered, the confession slipping out with a breath you didn’t realize you were holding.

That broke him. Smoke let out a low, raw groan as his grip shifted. He grabbed your hips with both hands, holding you still as his restraint finally began to splinter.

“Say it again.”

“Smoke—”

“Say. It. Again.”

Your voice caught in your throat, but you gave it to him, every word thick with truth and heat. “I’m yours,” you breathed. “I’ve always been yours.”

He let out something between a moan and a curse as he started to move again. Each thrust was rough with purpose, his rhythm tight and controlled even as his body fought against itself for release. “I should’ve made you say that two days ago,” he murmured into your neck. “Could’ve saved us both a whole lot of trouble.”

You could feel him on edge now. His hands were shaking. His thighs flexed with every grind forward. His jaw locked. “Fuck, baby… you feel too good,” he rasped. “Too fucking good.”

You whimpered, barely holding yourself up as he rutted into you like it was the last thing he’d ever do.

“Where you want it?” he choked out, voice frayed and thick with hunger. His hand fisted the meat of your ass, keeping your hips tilted perfectly, helplessly open for him.

“Tell me. Right here?” he ground into you deeper—deeper—and your whole body jolted like he’d struck a nerve that reached your soul.

“Want me to fill this pretty pussy up?” he growled, hips snapping forward again, rough, rhythmic, merciless. “You want me to cum so deep you leak for days, huh? So every time you open your legs, you remember who the fuck owns it?”

You tried to answer, but your voice cracked around the sound of your own moan.

Your body was done. Shaking, oversensitive, strung out from back-to-back orgasms—but still hungry for him. Still desperate to take all of him, to feel the final blow. The one he’d been holding back since the minute he put his hands on you.

Smoke’s thrusts became heavier and it became obvious he was losing the reins. His grip on your hips turned bruising, and a deep, guttural snarl ripped out of him like it came from the base of his spine. “Answer me, baby! Where. You. Want. It?”

“Inside,” you cried, head buried in the sheets, hips bucking against him. “Please, Smoke, fill me up.”

Smoke roared before grabbing you by the back of your neck and forcing your chest flush to the mattress. His other hand yanked your ass back into him, hard enough to make your eyes roll. His body collapsed over yours, hot and massive and trembling as he began to pound into you like a man possessed. No more teasing. No more patience. Just raw, primal need.

“You fuckin’ take it,” he growled in your ear. “You take every drop. That’s mine. You hear me? Mine. This pussy… this whole fuckin’ body… you think I’m lettin’ it walk around untouched, unclaimed? Nah. Nah, baby. I’m leavin’ my fuckin’ mark.”

His thrusts were devastating now. Every stroke came with the full weight of his body. His hips snapped forward like punishment, his chest slick against your back, his voice a broken, dirty prayer in your ear.

“I can’t—” you gasped, sobbing against the sheets.

“Yes, you… can,” he growled, his voice deep and guttural, hips pounding harder now. “You will. You gon’ take every drop I give you… then lay here… and thank me for it like a good girl. Understand?”

You felt the tremor roll through his body as his thighs tensed, his back flexed, and the ragged stutter of his breath grew as he chased his own breaking point. He was close. So close. “Say it,” he demanded, his voice sharp as a razor. “Say you’re mine while I paint these walls. Say it with my dick buried in this pussy.”

You cried out, clawing at the sheets, tears streaking your face. “I’m yours, Smoke! I’m yours, please—cum inside me!”

With a final, brutal thrust, he buried himself so deep you screamed, and then he moaned your name like it was the last word he’d ever say.

You were on the verge of slipping into unconsciousness when you felt Smoke’s hot and heavy load spilling into you in thick waves as his body seized behind you, every muscle locked in place. His nails dug into your hips as he held you there, stuffed full, claimed and ruined. His head dropped into your neck, his moan drawn-out, ragged, the sound of a man breaking as he finally gave in.

He stayed like that. Still pulsing inside you and panting. His lips grazed your skin, open-mouthed, breath hot. Then, after a long, heavy silence—he exhaled and murmured low, almost reverent: “Mine.”

And this time, you didn’t argue. Because your body? It agreed.

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Authors Note: This was just a one shot to get all the horn horn energy out before I finish my series🥴🙂‍↕️ I understand mean Smoke isn’t for everyone but… HE IS VERY GORGEOUS TO MEEEE!!!