Reporting Live from My Business

Because if you didn't know, the fics ARE still available via reblogs on Safari and in online browsers like chrome, edge, etc! In the tumblr mobile app, they are accessible on reblogs as well but only if you follow this navigation:

"notes" in bottom left corner > 🔁 (reblogs) > "View post" on the bottom of a reblog.

I thought it may be helpful if we try to put everything in one place for convenience in the meantime.

Here's what I have so far:

The attic held a kind of hush that felt like a cathedral at dusk.

Not a silence, but a velvet stillness—soft, expectant, thick with value. The kind of quiet you whisper into without being told. It wasn’t cold. It wasn’t lonely. It was womb-warm and dusk-dark, wrapped in slanted beams of amber light leaking through the porthole window, painting the floorboards with gold.

Above them, the rafters cradled cascading silks—wine-colored, violet, deep blues—all swaying gently in the draft like they were breathing. A linen sheet had been spread over the floor and weighted at the corners, and atop it, folds of velvet and satin layered like a nest. Someone had once stored fabric up here, or maybe dresses from decades past, but now they softened the space like memory itself had been laid bare.

Everywhere was softness. A place to fall open.

Their voices floated in the loft like prayers.

Smoke stood frozen by the door, his chest rising hard beneath his white shirt, jaw clenched so tight it twitched. He didn’t speak. Didn’t move. He looked like he’d been hit square in the chest by something bigger than lust.

“You sure?”

Smoke’s voice was low—deep like gravel wet with bourbon, but gentle around the edges and skin glowing with the sheen of want.

Violet nodded slowly, eyes shining behind her mask, lips parted just enough to tremble. Her voice was barely a whisper, but it rang through the attic like a bell.

“I want this. I want you.”

That was all it took.

Below them, through the floorboards, came the faint throb of the Velvet and Vice party—a muffled beat of blues guitar, the occasional wail of a trumpet, a woman’s laughter that turned into a moan before fading. The world was still moving, still writhing in heat and sin, but it felt far away. Here, in the loft, time slowed to breath and heartbeat.

Ba-dum…Ba-dum…Ba-dum.

His eyes dragged down her—jaw, collarbone, breasts, thighs—with a adoration so deep it burned. His fingers twitched at his sides. His chest rose faster. But he didn’t speak.

Smoke’s hand cupped Violet’s cheek. She leaned into him, skin flushed, silk brushing against her shoulders like feathers. Somewhere behind her, the mirror caught their reflection—not bold and sharp like stage lights, but ghosted in gold, blurred by light and softness. Their bodies looked half-dreamed.

Even the dust here sparkled, suspended like it had paused to watch.

And though the attic was warm, Smoke shivered at the sound of her voice.

Not from cold.

But from the weight of being invited into something so tender, so holy, and so achingly real.

“I want you to look at me, Smoke,” she said, her voice low, molten, “All of me.”

Her hands went to the straps of her white velvet gown.

She slid them down, one after the other, so slowly the fabric seemed to sigh. The gown clung for a moment to her breasts, then slipped—molasses-slow—over her skin, pooling at her feet like spilled cream.

She stepped out of it.

Naked.

Except for the ribbon still tied at her throat. A single lavender bow resting against the hollow of her neck. Her skin gleamed in the moon light—soft, full, golden-brown, glowing like candle flame licked over flesh.

Smoke still hadn’t moved.

He didn’t have to.

Violet moved for him—slow, swaying to the rhythm of the blues. Her hips rolled gently with the beat, her breasts bouncing just slightly, her breath getting heavier.

She ran her hands down her own body—over her waist, her belly, the inside of her thighs. Her voice came out on a shuddered breath, but it didn’t falter.

“I want you to see what’s yours.”

Smoke’s eyes snapped up to her face.

“I’m ready, Elijah.”

She rarely used his name.

That alone nearly broke him.

“I’m ready for you to take me. Claim me. Make me yours so deep I forget what it was like to be untouched.”

A sound broke from his throat—half-growl, half-prayer.

“You don’t know what you askin’, girl,” he rasped.

Violet stepped in close. Close enough to feel the heat rolling off his skin. Close enough that her breasts nearly brushed his chest.

She touched the buttons of his vest—slow, deliberate—and whispered…

“I know exactly what I’m asking.”

Then she turned.

Walked backward toward the velvet and silk splayed across the floor. Still moving to the blues. Still glowing. She climbed onto the drapery, her thighs parting just enough, knees bent, feet flat, ribbon catching the light as she looked back at him through her mask.

“Come here,” she whispered, “Take your time. But take me.”

Smoke reached behind him and locked the door.

Then he moved.

Slow and silent—like a wolf circling a flame.

He peeled off his vest first. Then his suspenders. He undid each button on his shirt like he was unwrapping something dangerous. His eyes never left her. When he pulled the shirt off, his chest gleamed with sweat. Broad. Scarred. Lined with strength and ache.

He knelt at the edge of the drapes and ran his hands up her thighs—slow, careful.

“You sure?” he asked again, voice deep as thunder under velvet.

Violet reached for him. She guided one trembling hand between her thighs, pressing his fingers where she ached.

“You tell me,” she whispered, “Does this feel like doubt?”

His fingers brushed over her wet folds.

Wet. Ready. Willing.

“Tell me to kiss you,” he rasped.

“Kiss me like I’m already yours.”

Smoke swore. Crawled up her body. Kissed her full on the mouth—hard and deep—then pressed his forehead to hers, eyes shut tight like he was trying to survive.

“I’ll go slow,” he said.

“No,” she breathed, “I want you to go how you feel.”

He looked at her.

And then he moved.

Smoke didn’t remember crossing the space between them.

One second, Violet was there molded into fabric, bare except for that lavender satin ribbon tied around her neck like a kept promise, her knees parted and the blush on her skin glowing like morning after sin.

The next, he was on her.

Not fast. Not frantic.

But with that slow, dangerous gravity that only happened once a man stopped fighting his desire. He leaned in, both hands braced on either side of her, and hovered—just enough distance for breath to pass between them. His eyes were locked on her lips. His breath hitched, chest rising and falling like he’d run miles.

Violet’s voice shook—but not from fear. From knowing.

That did it.

Smoke’s mouth descended on hers like it was the only salvation left in the attic. His lips were hot, full, and rough, the way only a man who’s been starving can be. Not sloppy. Not rushed. Just…needy. Like he’d dreamed about the taste of her for weeks and couldn’t believe it was real.

Violet moaned into it, fingers smoothing down the front of his hair, yanking him closer at the nape of his neck, hungrier. Her lips parted beneath his, soft and slick, and when he licked into her mouth, she opened wider for him—welcoming, bold, burning.

His tongue met hers in slow, wet strokes—deep, velvety, every movement dragging low in her belly. Her thighs clamped around his waist. The kiss tilted, deepened, grew dirtier as they lost themselves in it. Smoke sucked her bottom lip between his teeth, bit down just enough to make her gasp, then soothed it with the flat of his tongue.

He pulled back an inch, just enough to speak against her lips.

“Jesus, girl…you taste like sin dressed in sugar.”

And then he kissed her again—slower this time, more focused, like he was trying to memorize her with his mouth. His hand cupped the side of her throat, thumb grazing the ribbon. The other slipped under her thigh, lifting her higher against him. Every part of her body arched into the kiss like it had been waiting years for this moment—this heat, this weight, this man.

Violet whimpered, tugged him closer.

Her voice broke against his mouth.

“I can feel you shaking.” She whispered.

“I’m not gonna last if you keep kissing me like that,” he muttered, barely holding himself up.

“Then don’t.” She whispered, biting down on his bottom lip, “Fall with me.”

He groaned—guttural and filthy—and kissed her so deep she forgot her name.

Smoke kissed her like he was unraveling—like every second of restraint had finally snapped loose and now there was only heat. Hunger. Her. Violet clung to him, trembling, her legs wrapped around his waist, her hands trembling against his shoulders. The kiss deepened until it wasn’t a kiss anymore—it was breath sharing, it was mouths devouring, it was I want you, I need you, I am not leaving here untouched.

But still, he didn’t thrust. Didn’t take.

Not yet.

He broke the kiss, barely.

Breath ragged. Eyes locked to hers through the mask. His voice was low and dark, broken open at the edges.

“I can see how bad you want it, baby,” Smoke spoke, chest heaving against hers, “You want slow? soft? Or you want me the way I really feel it…wild and deep and too much?”

Violet ran her hand down his chest, fingers tracing his sternum, the dip below his ribs. Her touch was feather-light—but deliberate.

She whispered, “I want it all.”

Smoke exhaled hard, like she knocked the air out of him. Then he kissed her jaw, her throat, the edge of the ribbon, dragging his mouth along her skin with wet heat and a devotion so intense it made her knees weak.

“You ain’t soft, Violet,” he whispered against her neck, “You’re blazing, baby. You think I don’t feel it?”

She gasped then guided his hand between her thighs again.

“Feel this,” she said, voice breathy and rising, “and tell me I’m not burning for you.”

He groaned, deep in his chest. His fingers moved through her folds—slick, swollen, warm—his touch slow and exploratory. Like she was a new language he’d been dying to speak.

“You soaked, baby,” he whispered, lips brushing her temple, “You feel like heaven. So wet…”

His fingers stroked up and down, circling her clit with the pads of two fingers—just enough pressure to make her whimper. She arched into him, biting her bottom lip.

Her voice shook, but she didn’t hold back.

“Don’t tease. Touch me like you mean it.”

He growled, deep and low, and did exactly that—rubbing slow, firm circles, slipping one finger inside her, then two, pumping carefully, stretching her as she clenched around him.

“I can feel you flutterin’, baby,” he said, his voice breaking, “So tight…you gon’ come just like this, ain’t you?”

She nodded, eyes fluttering, biting down on her bottom lip, hips grinding down against his hand.

“Yes…Smoke—please, don’t stop…” she begged in that little voice.

He kissed her again—harder this time, tongue deep, claiming, messy. His hand didn’t stop moving, didn’t slow. He kept her right there, circling her clit, curling his fingers inside her. Violet whimpered, eyes flicking from between her legs to his eyes.

“You need it bad, don’t you?” he whispered against her mouth, “You been dreamin’ ‘bout this, layin’ in that little bed, slippin’ your fingers down and pretendin’ it was me?”

“Yes,” she moaned, “Yes, I have, sir. I’ve been touching my pussy to the thought of you since the moment I saw you.”

That undid him.

“You nasty little thing…fuck…since you first saw me? Huh?”

“Yes,” she moaned.

He moved faster, pressing his thumb down just right, until her body began to tense, her thighs trembling.

“Damn, baby…wet ass pussy…and you giving this precious little box to me?” Smoke whispered with a filthy exhale.

“Yes, daddy…all for you. To fuck…to lick…make me open up for you,” Violet trailed a singer finger down Smoke’s face until it curled beneath his jaw. She leaned in, and slowly flicked her tongue against his plush lips, “Daddy, I’m gonna cum.”

“Yeah?”

Violet nodded her head with a pout of her lip. She was so wet and sensitive. She could feel the ache in her belly grow bolder, stilling her legs.

“Cum for me, Violet,” he rasped, “Cum on my hand. Show me how sweet you taste when you fall apart.”

She shattered.

Her hips bucked. Her mouth dropped open in a moan so raw it cracked in the middle. Her walls clenched tight around his fingers as she pulsed, wet and rhythmic, riding it out in his arms, eyes wide behind the mask. Smoke watched every second, lips parted, chest heaving. His fat dick strained against his slacks, but he didn’t move for himself—didn’t even flinch.

He was entranced.

When her body finally stilled, he pulled his fingers from her slowly, wet and glistening.

Then—locking eyes with her—he brought them to his mouth.

And sucked them clean.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he whispered, voice wrecked.

She reached for him—desperate now, trembling, glowing.

“Your turn,” she whispered, her lips swollen, “I want to feel you…all of you. Fill my pussy.”

Violet lay sprawled across velvet and silk, her thighs still twitching, lips parted, skin glowing.

Her ribbon had loosened, one end hanging down between her breasts, catching the candlelight like a flag of surrender. But her eyes—what Smoke could see of them behind the pearl-tulle mask—weren’t surrendering anything.

They were hungry.

“Smoke…” Her voice was a whisper, half-wrecked from the way he’d made her come, but still thick with want, “I need you.”

He was kneeling between her thighs, half clothed—forearms taut, the buttons of his slacks straining around his dick. His hands rested on her thighs like he was trying to pray her back together.

“I know you do,” he rasped, voice rough, “I feel it. I smell it.”

He leaned down, mouth brushing her knee. Then her inner thigh.

“Still shakin’ for me, sugar?”

She nodded.

“Good,” he spoke, “You ain’t done.”

He kissed a path up her thigh, mouth hot and open, breath dragging over the wetness he’d left behind. Violet arched, gasped, but he didn’t lick her again.

He just breathed her in.

Slow.

Deep.

“You smell like heat and want.” he growled against her skin, “Like velvet burned down to the bone.”

His hands moved over her hips, up her ribs, over her breasts. He cupped one and ran his thumb across her nipple until it peaked. Then leaned in, letting his lips hover.

Not touch.

Just hover.

Letting the air between them throb.

“Say it again,” he said, “Tell me what you want.”

Violet reached up and grabbed the back of his neck—fingers squeezing a little, pulling until his mouth finally brushed her skin.

“I want you to lose control,” she said, “I want to feel your mouth. Your tongue. Your dick. I want you to take me like I’m the only thing that’s ever mattered.”

Smoke’s jaw clenched. His fingers dug into her thighs.

“You want my mouth?”

She nodded, breath ragged.

He kissed her breast, sucked her nipple in slowly, circled it with his tongue while his other hand moved between her legs again.

She whimpered, hips lifting.

“You want my dick?”

“Yes,” she gasped. “God, yes—please—”

“Then be still,” he growled, voice shaking with restraint.

He sat back on his heels. Undid the button of his slacks. Pulled them down and off. Kicking his oxfords and socks with it.

Violet stared, wide-eyed, mouth parted. The fabric opened and—

God.

His dick was thick, flushed dark, glistening at the tip, twitching as he gripped the base.

He pumped it once. Twice. Just enough to coat his palm.

Her eyes dropped to his hand. Her breath caught.

He moved forward—pressed the head against her slit, not entering, just dragging it up and down. The friction slick. Torturous. Perfect.

“You feel that?” he whispered, “That ache right here?”

He rubbed her clit with the tip. She cried out.

“That’s me, baby. All of me. You ready to beg for it yet?”

Violet arched her hips.

Then—bold as anything—she reached between them, wrapped her hand over his, guiding his dick to her entrance.

Her voice trembled, but her words didn’t.

“I’m already begging inside, daddy.”

Smoke growled—a deep, wrecked sound—and dropped his forehead to hers.

“I can’t go slow for long, baby…I just can’t.”

“Then don’t.”

The lamp light flickered near them, scattering gold light over sweat-slicked skin and slow-burning sin.

Violet sat half-upright now, propped on one elbow, thighs spread wide in invitation. Her body was flush and radiant, lips kiss-swollen, glowing with release—and yet, not even close to satisfied. Her hand wrapped around Smoke’s thickness—firm, sure, trembling just slightly with the weight of what she held. He knelt between her thighs. His body gleamed, chest rising and falling like he’d just run through fire.

“Watch me,” she said, voice low and soaked in heat.

And he did.

Smoke’s jaw clenched tight, lips parted, eyes hungry as her fingers guided his big dick between her folds—slow, achingly slow—gliding along the length of her slick center.

His dick was flushed dark, veiny, heavy in her hand. Precum glistened at the tip, catching the moonlight as she dragged it up through her arousal. His shaft slid like silk between her folds, catching at her clit each time she pressed forward just enough to make them both twitch.

Wet sounds filled the space between their bodies—slick, filthy, honest.

She bit her bottom lip.

Pressed the head against her clit again. Rubbed it in slow, lazy little circles that made her thighs tremble.

Smoke swore under his breath. His hands balled into fists at his thighs, every muscle in his body tense with restraint.

“Jesus…Violet…”

His voice was a gravel scrape—half warning, half worship.

“You see what you doin’ to me? Got my dick so fuckin hard.”

She nodded slowly, dragging him down again, her folds parting around the swollen head of his dick like they’d been made to cradle it.

“You feel it?” she whispered, “How soft I am for you? How much I want it? How wet I am?”

Her grip tightened just a little. She stroked him, sliding his length back and forth, coating him in her wetness until the entire shaft gleamed.

“You’re so hard, sir,” she whispered, eyes wide behind the mask, “You’re shaking, Smoke…”

“I’m holdin’ on by a fuckin’ thread,” he breathed, “You keep that up, I’m gonna nut before I even get inside you.”

She lifted her hips, letting the head of his big dick catch at her entrance—not entering—just there. Tempting. Tormenting.

“I want you right here,” she said, voice breaking with lust, “Right where I ache the most.”

Smoke’s hand shot out—gripped her thigh.

Violet circled her soaked hole with his flushed tip. In tortuous fashion. Her breaths ragged. The sound of her slick loud. Smoke groaning low.

“Then stop teasin’,” he growled, trembling, “You ready for it? All of me?”

She smiled—soft, open, utterly unraveled.

“I’m ready for everything.”

Smoke gripped the backs of Violet’s thighs and spread her wide, wrapping them around his waist. Her hips tilted toward him, skin damp and glowing in the moonlight. The lavender satin ribbon still clung to her throat, looser now, trailing over one shoulder like an unspoken promise. It fluttered faintly with every breath she took, every tremble of want and nerves. Her mask stayed on. Her eyes locked on his.

Smoke hovered above her, braced on his forearms, his chest rising and falling like he’d run through fire. His face was close—so close—and his eyes searched hers like she was something sacred, something breakable and burning.

“Can I?” he asked, voice low and rough, “You want me to untie it?”

Violet looked up at him, and though her lashes were damp, her mouth trembled into something tender. Brave. Soft and blazing all at once.

She nodded.

But then she whispered.

“Yes. I want you to.”

Her voice was so small, but it rang like thunder in the hush of the attic. A storm in silk and skin. Smoke exhaled through his nose, as if steadying himself. Then he reached up, calloused fingers trembling as they found the satin bow. He didn’t rush it. Didn’t tug. Just held it for a moment, like it was the last ribbon on a gift he wasn’t sure he deserved.

Then slowly, delicately, he began to pull.

The knot gave with a whisper-soft sigh, and the two ends fluttered down over her collarbones. Her breath caught. Her body arched.

Smoke leaned in.

He didn’t speak. He just lowered his mouth and kissed the spot where the bow had been tied, right above her pulse, where her heartbeat raced wild beneath her skin. A soft, open-mouthed kiss—warm and wet and full of something unspoken.

“You’re so fuckin’ beautiful,” he whispered into her skin. “So brave.”

Violet’s hands slid up his chest, fingers curling near his shoulders. She didn’t speak—she didn’t have to. The ribbon now lay like an offering across her breasts, undone, and her eyes—those wide, wet eyes behind the mask—held his with an ache that begged to be answered.

Smoke rose just enough to look down at her again, chest heaving.

“You ready, baby?”

And this time when she nodded, she didn’t tremble.

She burned.

“Keep lookin’ at me,” he spoke, voice thick, trembling, “I wanna see your eyes when I fill you.”

She nodded, breath stuttering, lips parted. Her hands reached for his arms—those strong, tensed forearms, the ones that had held back for too long. He let her pull him close, brought his dick to her entrance, and paused.

Not yet. Not all at once.

He breathed against her mouth, and whispered, “You want it, baby? Tell me. Beg for it. ‘Cause I’m ready to give you what you deserve.”

Violet’s voice cracked open, soft but certain.

“Please. I need to feel it. Need you inside me. Please, Sir.”

He kissed her then—slow, wet, tongues curling, breath sharing. One hand came to her cheek, the other still bracing her thigh as he pressed in—just the tip. A tight, perfect heat wrapped around him, making him groan into her mouth.

“Goddamn,” he choked out, “You…Violet, you’re…so…so tight.”

She gasped, hips jerking slightly. Her thighs trembled.

He didn’t move.

Held still.

Let her adjust.

His forehead pressed to hers, sweat collecting at his brow, voice trembling when he spoke again.

“You okay?”

She nodded, breath hot against his lips. Her body pulsed around him, soft and slow, trying to make room.

“I feel so full already,” she whispered, eyes fluttering, “But I–I want more.”

Smoke rocked forward an inch—and Violet cried out, legs tightening around his waist. Her body stretched to take him, to welcome him deeper. She could feel the thick drag of his dick, the heavy pressure splitting her open slowly, soft walls stretching in ways they never had.

It burned, but not in pain.

In pleasure.

A deep, aching kind of stretch that made her arch and moan.

Smoke whispered against her ear, “You feel it, baby? How deep I am? That’s me…workin’ my way in. I’m makin’ my way in this pussy…inch by inch…”

His hands moved, sliding under her ass to lift her, angle her, open her more.

“Breathe,” he spoke soflty, “You takin’ me so good. So fuckin’ good.”

Another inch. Then another.

Violet’s nails dug into his back. Her mouth dropped open. Her whole body quaked.

“Oh G–G–God…” she gasped, “It’s—it’s so thick. I can feel every inch of you.”

Smoke bit down softly on her throat, kissed over the spot, then whispered filth into her skin.

“You stretchin’ so sweet for me. You were made for this. Made for me. You know that?”

She nodded frantically, “Yes—yes, I want it all. I want you to fill me until I can’t breathe.”

Smoke’s hips rolled forward—deeper, slower—and she cried out, her voice breaking on the way her walls clenched around him, gripping him like a velvet vice.

“You okay?” he asked again, barely able to form the words, “Tell me, Violet.” He spoke through clenched teeth.

Her voice was breathless, high, shaking with need.

“I feel everything. You’re so deep. It’s thick—it’s stretching me so wide. But it’s—fuck, it’s perfect.”

He stopped halfway in, groaned, dropped his forehead to her shoulder.

“You feel like goddamn heaven,” he said, “If I go any deeper, I’m not lettin’ you go.”

“Then don’t,” she whispered, “Take all of me.”

Smoke groaned—wrecked, worshipful—and began to move.

Smoke knelt between her thighs, completely bare, stripped down to skin and sweat and sin. His body gleamed under the moon—broad shoulders, powerful arms, a chest dusted with hair, rising and falling like he’d just run through fire and hadn’t stopped burning. Veins traced the lengths of his forearms, tension coiled in his muscles as he fought not to take her all at once. His dick hung heavy, thick and flushed, glistening at the tip from her slick, twitching with each ragged breath he drew. There was nothing left between them now. No clothes. No pretense.

Just heat.

Just skin.

Just want.

He looked at her like she was the only thing left in the world that could save him.

Smoke stayed still, buried halfway inside her, thick and throbbing where her walls clung tight—stretching, burning, aching for more.

His breath shuddered. His jaw locked.

“Goddamn, baby…” he rasped, “You so tight—grippin’ me like you don’t wanna let me go.”

Violet’s back arched. Her thighs trembled.

She was soaked around him, her slick coating his dick, her folds flushed and swollen from how long he’d teased her. The stretch made her gasp—thick, slow, just shy of too much. Her walls fluttered, adjusting, pulsing with every heartbeat.

But still, he held back.

He didn’t thrust.

He didn’t press deeper.

He worshipped.

Smoke bent down and pressed kisses across her throat, soft and slow, letting his hips grind just a little—just enough to feel her flutter again around the half of him she was holding.

“You okay?” he whispered against her collarbone. “Need me to stop?”

She shook her head, voice trembling.

“No. Don’t stop. Just…give me a second. I can feel everything.”

He kissed her again, lips open over her skin, breath burning.

“You’re takin’ me so good,” he spoke, voice thick and deep, “So damn sweet, baby. You feel like heaven made wet for me.”

His hands slid up her ribs, rough palms grazing slick skin.

Then he took one breast in his mouth.

Her nipple was tight, flushed dark, sensitive from heat and wanting. He sucked slow, deep, lips sealing around it while his tongue flicked and dragged—hungry, tender, filthy.

Violet cried out beneath him.

“Oh…Smoke—yes…”

She arched into his mouth, hands threading over his hair, pulling him closer. His hips shifted just slightly and she felt it—the weight of him, the stretch still humming where they were joined.

He groaned against her skin, licked her nipple again, then moved to the other breast.

“Could suck these all night,” he rasped between kisses, “So soft. You shakin’ for me.”

“Because I need you,” she gasped, “I need all of you.”

He lifted his head, eyes glazed and burning.

“You’ll have it. Every inch. But not yet.”

He kissed her again—deep, wet, tongue sliding slow as his girth pulsed inside her. Her hips tried to rock up. He stilled her with a strong hand.

“Not yet, baby,” he whispered again, resting his forehead against hers, “Let me feel you like this. Let me memorize it—how you open for me. How you stretch around just half of me.”

Smoke stared down at the way his big dick only half way in looked. How her folds spread and bloomed around his slick girth. It was beautiful.

She whimpered.

“Then do it. Remember me, Daddy.”

“I want you to remember it too, baby. Look at this,” Smoke spread her so her hips tilted, “fuckin’ gorgeous, baby.”

Smoke kissed her slow and long. His hand gripped her waist. His dick twitched where it was buried halfway inside her heat.

Still not moving. Still holding.

Just trembling on the edge.

His dick is thick and throbbing, glistening from root to tip in her slick. Her walls gripped him so tight he could barely breathe, his control stretched to the edge of breaking.

“Look at you,” he whispered, voice wrecked, “You grippin’ me good and tight.”

Violet arched beneath him, her thighs falling wider, chest heaving. Her hands dug into his shoulders, nails biting skin.

“I don’t want you to slip out,” she gasped, “I want…I want you to stay inside me. Live there.”

“Live in this sweet little pussy?”

“Yes…mmmm—”

Smoke let out a sound that was half growl, half prayer.

Then he shifted his hips—not thrusting in, not pulling out, just a slow, controlled sway from side to side, grinding his dick through her heat like he was trying to carve space inside her that didn’t exist. Rocking her hips.

Her eyes flew wide. Her breath caught.

“Oh—fuck—”

“You feel that?” he moaned out, staring down at where they were joined, “That stretch?”

He watched it happen—watched how her folds kissed every inch of him half way in, slick and swollen, gripping his dick like velvet-lined hunger. The way she opened, stretched around his girth, the raw, glistening pink of her taking him with effort, with ache.

“Look at this pretty pussy,” he groaned, voice low and filthy, “Can’t even take me yet, and she’s still tryna pull me in deeper.”

He rocked his hips again—left, then right—slow, obscene pressure.

Violet whimpered, biting her lip so hard her lip trembled.

Her pussy pulsed, clenching tight every time he moved like that, and he watched it happen, mesmerized.

“I could come just from this,” he muttered, “Just watchin’ your pussy swallow me like she don’t know whether to stretch wider or suck me deeper.”

“Don’t stop,” Violet begged, “It’s so full—I feel you everywhere.”

He leaned in, mouth at her ear.

“You like the stretch, baby?”

“Yes—yes—please—”

“Then take it.”

His hand gripped the underside of her thigh, lifting it higher, angling her open even more.

And still—he didn’t push deeper.

He just kept grinding. Swaying. Teasing. Torturing. Stretching the tension. Making her wetter. Filthier. Letting that big dick move inside her like a slow burn, wide and thick, dragging over her walls from side to side until she was shaking, writhing, helpless and dripping.

Her whole body lit up. Her head dropped back against the drapes.

“I feel every ridge of you,” she cried, hiccuped, “I can feel the veins. It’s—God, it’s so much—”

Smoke looked down again, watching himself buried in her halfway—her lips stretched wide around the base of his shaft, her slick smeared over his thighs.

“Look at what you fuckin’ doin’ to me,” he rasped, eyes blown, “Look how soaked you are. You’re fuckin’ drenchin’ me, baby.”

Violet reached down with one hand, touched the base of his dick where her body stretched around him, fingers trembling as she felt the obscene wetness there.

“I want all of it,” she whispered, “Now. I want to feel every inch stretch me open.”

Smoke stilled. His body shook.

“You sure, baby? This pussy too tight. You sure you can handle it?”

Her voice was soft, wrecked, completely undone.

“Ruin me.” She begged.

Smoke’s body was tight as wire, thighs trembling where they pressed to hers. His dick throbbed—half buried, thick and twitching inside her, coated in her slick. Violet lay beneath him—open, trembling, flushed with need. Her mask still framed her eyes, but he could see everything: her want, her surrender, her need for more.

“Ruin me,” she’d begged with a shaky voice.

And Smoke—bare, soaked in sweat, jaw clenched so tight it ached—finally gave in.

“Hold on,” he growled, low and hoarse, mouth at her ear, “’Cause I’m not stoppin’ this time.”

He braced his hands to either side of her, locked his eyes on her face—and pushed.

Inch by inch.

Deep.

Stretching.

Thick.

The sound was obscene—a wet, slick drag of dick sinking into tight, velvet heat, the slap of her slick against his hips as her pussy gave way, struggling to take the rest of him.

“Oh—fuckkkk—” she cried, legs shaking, body arching beneath him, “You’re—oh my God—you’re so deep—”

Her pussy fluttered around him, stretching slow, burning, the walls clenching, dragging over every ridge and vein as he sank deeper.

“FFFFUCCCCKKK,” Smoke breathed, sweat sliding down his chest, watching as his dick disappeared inside her, “You feel like silk soaked in honey. Like heaven’s got a tight little pussy just for me.”

Her nails dug into his back, hips bucking instinctively, trying to take more—wanting the pressure, the fullness.

“You stretchin’ so fuckin’ good,” he groaned, “Takin’ me inch by inch like this pussy was made for it. Gahdamn…”

She was gasping, voice breaking.

“It’s so thick…it’s so much—”

“I know, baby,” he whispered, “That’s it. Just like that. Let me all the way in. All the way…just like that…uhuh…good girl…”

He pulled back slightly, then rolled his hips forward again—deep, steady pressure, working her open.

The sound—wet, filthy, rhythmic—echoed in the moon -lit room, layered with her soft, broken moans and the slide of skin on velvet.

Another inch.

Another stretch.

He grunted when her pussy clenched tight again—trying to push him out and pull him in at the same time.

“You milkin’ me, baby. You even know what you doin’ to me right now?”

She whimpered, her heels digging into his back.

“S–Smoke,” she begged, “Don’t stop till you’re all the way in.”

He grabbed her thigh, opened her just a little more, and pushed—deep, all the way, until his hips met the soft cradle of hers and they both groaned like something sacred just broke.

Her walls stretched to their limit, fluttering around the base of his dick, soaked and swollen.

“Shiiiitttt.”

Smoke’s voice cracked.

He was fully inside her now—root-deep, dick buried to the hilt, surrounded by heat and wetness so tight he couldn’t move without coming undone.

“You feel that?” he gasped, chest pressed to hers, every muscle in his body trembling, “I’m all the way in. Every. Fuckin’. Inch. Deep baby.”

Violet’s mouth dropped open.

Smoke stared down at their conjoined bodies. He shook his head at the sight. She felt split wide, gloriously full, every nerve between her hips alive with ache and bliss. The stretch made her body quake—but it was perfect.

“I can feel you…everywhere,” she whispered, “So deep—too deep—”

He kissed her hard. Tongue deep, rough, teeth dragging her bottom lip.

“No such thing, baby,” he growled, “You mine. You take all of me.”

That dick was all the way in—thick, deep, pulsing inside Violet’s soaked, stretched heat. Her walls clutched him like she never wanted to let go, fluttering around him, wet and swollen and trembling. He didn’t move at first. He just held there, buried in the tightest, sweetest, slickest place he’d ever felt, sweat dripping from his brow to her chest.

Violet whimpered beneath him, her body quaking, arms wrapped around his back.

Smoke pulled back—slow, deliberate—until just the tip of his dick stayed inside.

Shlk…shlk…shlk…

The sound of her wetness parting around him made his whole body jerk.

Then he pushed back in.

One, long stroke.

From tip to base.

Shhhhlllk—THMP.

Violet cried out, high and helpless.

“Ahhh—fuck!”

Her pussy stretched and sucked around him, the tight pull of her walls fluttering with each inch he fed her. It pulled so tight her hips drew up each time he would pull back to the tip. Like she wanted to glue his dick to her aching walls.

Smoke braced himself on his knees, then reached down, hooked both her legs, and pressed her thighs back—folding her open.

“Yeah,” he growled, voice gravel and heat, “That’s it, baby. Let me open you wide. Feel that wet ass pussy.”

He slid her knees back, propped them on the shelf of his shoulders, hands gripping the backs to keep her pinned. Her ass tilted up. Her pussy tilted back.

Everything was exposed. Everything was his.

He looked down at where they were joined—his thick dick gliding into her, coated in slick, her folds stretched wide around his base, her clit flushed and swollen, barely untouched.

Smoke pulled out with a gushy sound and Violet whimpered. He stared at her pussy and put his mouth on her so fast Violet didn’t see it coming. Her head was tilted just enough to catch her reflection in the tall gilded mirror across the room. From this angle, she could see everything—the arch of her spine, the tremble in her belly, the way his head dipped between her thighs like he was starving.

When Smoke kissed her there, her moan ripped loose, raw and aching.

“Ahh—S-Smoke…”

He didn’t answer with words. Just a growl deep in his chest, continuous slurps, and a firmer grip on her thighs. He licked slow—luxurious, filthy—dragging his mouth in circles, tasting her like she was something forbidden and holy.

Schlllck…mmhh…

The sounds alone made her legs shake. Violet was the wettest she’d ever been. Smoke couldn’t help himself. He had to taste what he was responsible for. She watched through the mirror, watched the way her body writhed, the way his shoulders moved with every devouring stroke. His dark head moved slow and steady between her legs, and the contrast of her soft thighs around his jaw made her whimper.

“You see how pretty you look?” he rasped between open–mouthed kisses, glancing up at her with his mouth slick and eyes heavy, “Drippin’ all over my tongue?”

“F-fuck—please…please don’t stop—”

He didn’t. He sucked her clit just right, tongue lapping, mouth wet and open and relentless. Her hands flew to his head, pulling him in, needing more. Her hips bucked but he held her down, his hands like shackles, steady and sure.

In the mirror, she saw her own mouth fall open, her body start to shake. Her eyes glossed over and begging to leak tears. The rhythm below them rose with her pulse—horns wailing, bass thumping, the whole house echoing sin. But all Violet could hear was the slick suck of his mouth and the trembling sobs falling from her lips.

“Ahhhhnn—Smoke—Smoke—I—”

She came hard, thighs clamping, toes curling, back arching off the velvet and satin. And Smoke—greedy, growling—held her through it, still tasting, still devouring, pulling every last tremor from her with slow, devastating precision.

“That’s it, baby. Ride it. Ride this tongue for me…let it happen.”

Violet broke. Sweet moans and cries. And just what he wanted—more mess.

Smoke lifted his head, lips wet and swollen from eating her pussy good. He grabbed his big dick in his fist, tapped her pussy, then glided back in to the base. All the way in. Deep. Violet was frozen with her mouth hanging open.

“Look at you,” he groaned, “You takin’ it all, baby? You feel how deep I am? All in you?”

Violet moaned again, higher this time, voice breaking on each syllable.

“Ah—ah—ahhhhnn…”

“Sound so fuckin’ pretty when you moan,” he grunted, sliding out again.

Pulled out to the tip again.

Then surged forward.

Shhlk… shhhlk…THMP.

Another full stroke. Measured. Deep. Controlled. His hips rolled, grinding at the bottom, pressing his dick into places she hadn’t even known she had.

“You love this daddy dick, don’t you?” he growled, voice ragged as his thrusts came slow but punishing, “Huh? You love this big boy stretchin’ this tight little pussy out?”

Violet couldn’t answer. Her head fell back. Her hands grabbed at the fabric. Her mouth hung open as she moaned, sobbed, breathed his name like gospel.

“Mmmnnnh—f-fuck—Smoke—yes—”

“Yeah, you love it,” he hissed, bending lower, keeping her thighs high on his shoulders, pressing his dick even deeper, “Listen to you. So fuckin’ wet. That pussy talkin’ to me, baby. Finally in this pussy. Best pussy I ever had.”

Shhlk…shhlk…shhhhlick—

The sound was filthy. Wet. Loud. Like her body was eating his dick.

“You a big girl now, ain’t you?” he grinned, voice smug and savage, “Look at you, takin’ it all like a good fuckin’ woman.”

She choked on her moan, “Yes—oh God, yes—”

“That’s it,” he growled, thrusting slow again, thick shaft dragging against every inch of her stretched walls, “You mine, girl. This is just the start, baby. This pussy? This heat? That little ribbon around your throat? All mine.”

He leaned down and bit her shoulder. Hard enough to make her gasp. His hips never stopped moving—slow, deep, thick strokes that made the floorboards creak.

“This is just night one. I ain’t leavin’ you the same. You understand me?” He spoke with that Mississippi drawl that drove her crazy.

Violet clung to him. Whimpering. Gasping. Taking every drop of him like she was born to.

“You fuckin’ hear me?” He dragged in and out of her, “Violet I asked you a question.”

“Yes,” she breathed, “Take me…keep me…make me yours.”

Smoke’s eyes burned. His body shook.

And he fucked her like she already was.

That big dick drove into her with measured force, slow but deep, thick strokes that dragged against her walls and made her shake with every inch. Violet peeked at her reflection and couldn’t believe what she saw. Smoke was up on his hands, toes planted into the floor, strong, thick, powerful body driving downward and upward above her little frame. Delicate against steel.

Shlk…shlk…shhhhlick—THMP.

He held her thighs high over his shoulders, chest pressed to her legs, his hips grinding low with wet, dirty rhythm. Violet’s body was open, trembling, flushed dark across her chest and throat.

Her eyes—behind the sheer pearl mask—were locked on his.

She was close.

Smoke saw it.

Her lips parted in a shaky gasp. Her pupils blown wide. Her moans hitched with every thrust like she couldn’t hold them in anymore. She clawed at the fabric.

“Ahh—ahh—ahhh—AHHH—ahhhn—”

Her whimpers were soft, breathless, rising.

Smoke didn’t stop.

He leaned in, fucked her deeper, hips rolling hard, grinding at the end of each thrust like he was trying to brand her with the shape of him.

“You feel that?” he panted, forehead nearly touching hers, “That buildin’ up inside you? That tight little quake startin’ right here—”

He brought a hand between them, pressed two fingers to her clit, circling slow as his dick stayed buried deep.

She gasped—loud and sharp.

“Ahhh—fuck—Smoke—”

“There she is,” he groaned, “That’s it, baby. That’s your climax comin’ for you. You feel it, don’t you? Let her out. It’s heavy ain’t it, baby?”

She nodded, mouth open, eyes glassy. Her hands clawed at his back, nails scraping sweat-slick skin.

“I—ah—I c-can’t—”

“Yes, you can,” he growled, fucking her through the rise, that good dick dragging, pushing, claiming, “You gon’ cum all over this dick. I want you to let go. I wanna feel it. Give it to me, baby. Please? For daddy?”

The begging. The quiver in his voice.

Her breath caught. Her whole body tightened. Her thighs shook on his shoulders.

“Ahh—ahhhhn—fuuuuck—”

“Come on, Violet. Let me feel it. Let me milk it, baby.”

Her eyes snapped open—locked on his.

Then she broke.

“Oh—Smoke—SMOKE—ahhh—fuuuuhhhck—!”

Her climax ripped through her like lightning in her spine—hot, deep, blinding. Her walls clenched, pulsed, squeezed around his dick like her pussy couldn’t decide whether to keep him or push him out. Slick flooded between them, wetting his thighs, coating him even more.

Shhhhhlick…shlk—shlk—shlk—

“Goddamn,” he growled, “You feel that? You hear that, baby? Fuck…wet this dick up.”

He never stopped moving—fucking her through it, dick sliding, grinding, making her feel every second of the release.

“You drippin’ for me. So wet, it’s drippin’ down my balls.”

She whimpered through her cries—“uh—ah—uhnnn—”—her whole body trembling, fingers gripping his shoulders like she might fly apart without him.

He kissed her. Hard. Filthy. Wet. Then pulled back to watch her face.

“Look at you,” he said, voice thick with awe, “Takin’ every inch and cummin’ ‘round me like this’s your fuckin’ purpose.”

“Y-You—” she gasped, “You made me—I’ve never—fuck—”

“You did it, baby,” he whispered, hips still rolling, dragging through her sensitive, soaked center, “You mine. All fuckin’ mine. This what daddy givin’ you. Anytime you want it baby.”

She moaned again, wrecked, slick pouring down between her thighs, her pussy fluttering with the last aftershocks.

Smoke grunted. His body trembled.

He was close.

But he wasn’t done yet.

Smoke’s chest heaved as he hovered above her, his dick still buried to the hilt in her soaked, fluttering heat. Violet lay beneath him, breathless, trembling, her release still pulsing around him in slow aftershocks.

He watched her—watched the way her sweat-beaded skin glowed, the way her chest rose and fell, the way her mouth stayed open like a question he couldn’t stop answering.

But then—

He pulled back.

Slow.

Obscene.

Shhhhhlk—shlk—slk—

Violet whimpered at the sudden loss, her pussy twitching, clenching at the absence of him, juices spilling from her stretched opening as his dick slid out glistening, coated in slick and cream.

“Fuck,” Smoke whispered, eyes locked on the sight between her thighs, “Look at that. Look.”

He didn’t touch her right away. Just knelt there, breathing hard, staring at her pussy.

“Goddamn, baby…I stretched you wide open. You see this mess?”

Her folds were swollen, her pussy glistening, the pink of her insides just barely visible where he’d split her so slow and deep. He ran two fingers up her slit—gentle, but filthy—spreading her lips apart so he could see.

“Pussy’s still pulsin’,” he spoke, eyes glassy, in a trance, “Still fuckin’ twitchin’ like she misses me already.”

Then—he started talking to it.

“You miss that dick, huh? Couldn’t wait to wrap around me. Grippin’ me like you were scared I’d pull out and leave you empty. But not you, nah. You took it like a big girl. You soaked me, didn’t you?”

Violet whimpered, her hand covering her mouth, watching him between her legs—watching him talk to her pussy like it was sacred.

Smoke kissed her thigh. Then leaned in.

Spread her open again with his thumbs, slow, adoring.

“Look how pretty you are, baby. Look how wet you made my dick.”

He looked down at himself—his shaft slick, shiny with her arousal, twitching, the head flushed and veins raised from how hard he still was.

Violet licked her lips. Her eyes darkened.

“I wanna taste it,” she whispered, “I wanna taste what you did to me.”

Smoke’s breath caught.

“What’d you say?”

She sat up slowly, eyes locked on his big dick. Violet reached out with one delicate, trembling hand and wrapped her fingers around the base.

“I wanna suck my mess off your dick,” she said, bold and breathless, “I want it in my mouth.”

Smoke groaned—low, helpless.

“Fuckin’ hell, Violet—”

She didn’t wait. She licked up the underside first, tongue flat, dragging through the slick of her own juices that still coated him.

“Mmm…”

She hummed—soft and sinful—as she tasted herself, his salt, their heat.

Then she wrapped her lips around the head—slow, tight, swirling her tongue over the sensitive ridge.

“Ah—shit—” Smoke’s hands flew into her hair, holding but not forcing, watching his dick disappear into that sweet mouth inch by inch.

“You nasty little angel,” he breathed, “Takin’ your own cum off my dick like it’s dessert.”

Violet moaned around him—Mmmnnnnh—eyes locked on his, throat swallowing him deeper. She sucked slow, wet, her tongue sliding under the shaft, collecting every drop of their filth.

Slrk…slrp…slrrrk—

“Look at you,” he groaned, his hips twitching, barely holding on, “Look how fuckin’ filthy you are for me.”

She pulled back with a pop, spit glistening on her lips.

“I’d do it again,” she whispered, “I’d let you ruin me again just to taste it after.”

Smoke stood motionless, jaw tight, every muscle trembling as Violet sucked him slow. Her mouth was hot—wet, velvety, her lips stretched around the head of his dick, cheeks hollowing with every draw.

Slrp…slrrrk…shlk…

The sounds echoed in the hush of the attic, filthy and rhythmic, the only thing louder than her mouth was the sound of his breath—shaky, caught between groans and restraint.

She took her time.

She licked up the underside with deliberate strokes.

She swirled her tongue around the tip, then kissed it like it was sacred.

And the whole time, her eyes stayed on his.

Soft. Blazing. Wrecked.

Smoke’s hands threaded through her hair, not pushing, just holding, worshipping.

“Goddamn, baby,” he rasped, “You were made for this.”

She pulled back just enough to speak, breath hot, lips slick with spit and arousal.

“I want you to remember this—my mouth on you, your taste on my tongue, me sucking the mess we made like I was starved for it.”

His dick jumped in her hand.

She smiled, then kissed the flushed head again—soft, like an apology for how dirty she sounded.

Smoke’s chest rose and fell in uneven waves.

“I’m not gonna last if you keep talkin’ like that,” he warned, voice breaking, “You want me to cum, you better be sure. ‘Cause I’m not gentle when I do.”

Violet licked the drop of precum from his slit and moaned like it was honey.

“I don’t want gentle,” she whispered, “I want truth.”

Smoke’s grip on her hair tightened—just a little.

But he didn’t thrust.

He didn’t force.

He watched her.

Watched her mouth.

Watched the slick on her chin.

Watched her tongue curl around the underside of his shaft like it belonged there. The candlelight flickered across her cheeks, her lashes, the ribbon still tied at her throat. Her breasts rose and fell with each slow breath, each wet suck, each swirl of her tongue as she licked the base and worked her way back up.

Slrp…slrk…slrp…

And all Smoke could do was let it happen.

Let it burn.

Let her own him.

His fingers flexed in her hair.

His thighs tensed.

His eyes dropped to her mouth again—that sweet, sinful mouth wrapped around his dick.

And he groaned.

“Fuck…Violet…you gonna be the death of me.”

Violet had Smoke’s dick in her mouth—slick, deep, wet—and he was barely standing.

He braced one hand on his thigh, the other threaded in her hair, his chest heaving like he’d run through a thunderstorm and liked it.

“Mmmmff—fuck.”

The groan cracked out of him—low, rough, long, like it was torn from somewhere deep. His jaw slackened. His thighs twitched.

“Shit…shit, babyyyy—”

Her mouth was heaven.

Her lips sealed tight around him. Her tongue worked the underside in slow, practiced swirls, then flattened, dragging from base to tip in a long, soaking stroke.

Sllllrp…slrk…slrp…

Violet pulled back just enough to breathe—spit and her slick glistening on her lips—and kissed the head of his precious, delicious dick like it was beloved. Then she looked up, eyes glowing behind the mask, and said, breathless

“I practiced for you.”

Smoke blinked, dazed.

“What…?”

She smiled. Bold. Sweet. Sinful.

“I started practicing. With a cucumber. Testing how deep I could take it. Seeing how long I could hold it. So I could suck you good.”

Smoke made a sound that wasn’t human—a broken moan wrapped in a curse, his knees nearly buckling.

“Jesus fucking Christ—”

He looked down at her like she was a miracle soaked in sin.

“You—fuck—”

Words failed him.

She giggled, soft and wicked, and took him back into her mouth—slow, tight, wet. Her lips stretched. Her cheeks hollowed. She eased down, inch by inch, until the head nudged the back of her throat.

Smoke’s moan was raw, open, dragged from the pit of his stomach.

“Ohhhnn—fuck, Violet—don’t stop—don’t you fuckin’ stop—”

She moaned around him—Mmmnnnnnh—her throat fluttering as she swallowed, pulling him deeper, then easing back, letting spit trail from her lips to his shaft.

Then—soft kisses.

One at the base.

One just beneath the crown.

A long, hot lick up the side, followed by a swirling stroke of her tongue around the slit.

He was twitching in her hand, hard as a brick, dick flushed and glistening.

“Does it feel good?” she whispered, teasing the head with gentle flicks of her tongue.

Smoke nodded, wordless.

His mouth parted like he wanted to answer—but all that came out was another guttural moan.

“Mmmfff… nnnh—god damn.”

She sucked again—just the head this time. Slow, steady pulses of suction while she stroked the shaft with her hand.

Slrp. Slrrrk. Slk…slrp—

“I wanted to be good for you,” she whispered against the crown, “I wanted this mouth to be your favorite place to cum.”

“It is,” he choked, “It fucking is, baby—don’t stop—please—”

His voice cracked. His abs clenched. His dick twitched against her tongue.

And she kept going.

Licking.

Sucking.

Swallowing him like she owned him.

Smoke couldn’t breathe.

Violet was sucking him like she was born for it—tight, wet, perfect—her hand stroking where her mouth couldn’t reach, her tongue swirling over the head like she knew exactly where it hurt the most.

And he was shaking.

“Shit—fuck—baby, I’m gonna—”

She didn’t stop.

Didn’t flinch.

She moaned around his dick—mmmnnnnh—and that was it. That was fucking it.

Smoke’s body snapped forward, hips jerking hard. His head dropped back with a guttural, open-throated groan—deep, loud, wrecked.

“Fuuuuhhck—Violet—ahhh—shit—I’m cumin’, baby—fuck—I’m cumin’—”

And he did.

Smoke was wrecked. His big dick pulsed hard in her mouth, thick spurts of hot cum spilling across her tongue, deep, sudden, relentless. His thighs flexed. His abs clenched. His whole body twitched as the orgasm ripped through him—raw, full-body, no holding back.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck—” he gasped, hips still rocking, chasing the last of it.

And Violet?

She took it all.

Swallowed every drop like it was a secret made just for her. Her lips stayed wrapped tight around him, her tongue licking gently, soothing, even as he twitched from the sensitivity.

Slrp…slk…mmmnnh…

She pulled off slowly, letting the tip slide from her mouth with a soft, wet pop.

Smoke stood above her—wrecked, panting, sweat running down his chest, his dick softening against his thigh, glistening from her mouth and his release.

Violet licked the corner of her lips.

Then looked up at him.

“Told you I’d be good for you.”

Smoke dropped to his knees in front of her—still gasping, still reeling.

He cupped her jaw, kissed her—deep, slow, tasting himself on her tongue, moaning into her mouth like he was still coming.

“You’re fuckin’ perfect,” he whispered, his voice hoarse and full of awe, “You just—Jesus, Violet—you just broke me.”

She smiled against his lips.

“Good.”

Smoke knelt in front of her, hands on either side of her face, thumbs brushing gently beneath her mask. His breath had started to settle, but his body was still warm, flushed from release. His dick—softening now—rested against his thigh, still slick with the memory of her mouth.

Violet’s lips were swollen. Her chin wet with spit. Her skin still pulsed with heat, glowing from what she’d just done. And she was watching him like she still hadn’t had enough.

Smoke cupped her cheek, stroked her jaw with his knuckles, slow and sweet. His voice dropped into something deep—warm, molten.

“You took me so good, baby…” he whispered, “Mouth soft as sin. Fuckin’ ruined me.”

Violet leaned into the praise—eyes fluttering, hips shifting, thighs pressing together. Her body was still buzzing. Her pussy was wet, sensitive, still open from earlier. She could feel it—the hollow ache of being empty again.

And Smoke could see it.

He watched the way her mouth opened slightly, how her lashes fluttered, how her thighs squeezed.

“What is it, sugar?” he whispered, brushing a thumb over her kiss-bruised bottom lip, “You want somethin’ else?”

She bit her lip—slow, thoughtful—and nodded.

“Tell me.”

Her voice came quiet. Shy. But bold beneath the softness.

“Can I…ride you?”

Smoke blinked, caught between surprise and instant arousal.

She looked down. Then back up at him, cheeks flushed.

“I wanna feel it. I wanna be on top. I wanna…watch your face when I take you in.”

Smoke let out a low, stunned groan. His dick, still wet and sticky against his thigh, twitched.

“You wanna ride this dick?” he questioned, voice thickening again, “You think you can handle that after the way I just split you open?”

She leaned in, kissed the corner of his mouth, breath hot against his cheek.

“I can take it. I want to. I want to sit on it slow…make you feel all of me.”

He pulled back just enough to look her in the eye—hungry, worshiping.

“Shit, baby…you askin’ me like that, I’ll let you ride me all night.”

Smoke lay back against the drapes, sweat cooling on his chest, his body still thick with heat, dick hardening again under Violet’s gaze.

She climbed over him slowly—naked, glowing. Her thighs trembled with anticipation, not fear. Her breath was quick. Her eyes locked on his. And her pussy—wet, swollen, still stretched from earlier—throbbed with the need to be filled again.

“Come on, baby,” he spoke, voice deep and wrecked. “Climb on. Take what you want.”

She reached for his dick, stroked it gently—still slick, hardening fast beneath her hand—and guided the head to her opening.

Smoke groaned the moment he felt her heat kiss the tip.

“Shit…”

Violet sank down—slow, careful, inches at a time—her brows furrowing as she adjusted to his size all over again.

“Ohhh—ahhh—Smoke—”

He watched her the entire way down, eyes glued to where their bodies met, where her folds spread around his dick, inch by inch.

“You got it, sweet girl,” he rasped, voice thick with worship, “You can take it. You were made to take it.”

Her hands came to his chest to brace herself—fingers splayed, nails grazing sweat-slick muscle as she settled further down.

Her thighs trembled.

Her lips parted.

Her head dropped back with a gasp as the stretch bloomed deep.

“Ah—ahh—so big—so full—daddy it’s big in my pussy.”

“Yeah, baby,” he groaned, “You feel that pressure in your belly? That’s me.”

She bottomed out slowly, inch by trembling inch, until her ass met his hips and her breath broke into a shaky, wrecked moan.

Smoke could barely breathe.

Violet on top of him was a fucking vision.

Her body was soft, full, and glowing—hips plush, breasts swaying. In contrast, his frame beneath her was hard, scarred, dark with sweat and muscle. She looked small, but powerful—glowing, feminine, a goddess in bloom with a big dick buried to the hilt inside her.

“Look at you,” he whispered, hands running up her sides, “Takin’ me all the way, nice and deep. Good girl. Remember how scared you looked when you saw me for the first time? Now look at you, sittin’ on it. Mmm…”

She started to rock her hips, tentative at first.

Up.

Down.

A slow, wet grind, her pussy hugging his length with every drag.

Shlk…slrp…shhhlick.

Violet found her rhythm—hips circling, rolling, bouncing just enough to make her breasts sway. The friction built, deeper each time, the sounds of their bodies filthy, beautiful, perfect.

“Oh—ohh—Smoke—it’s so—full, I can feel all of it—”

“That’s it, baby,” he rasped, eyes wild, “That’s my girl. Ridin’ it like it’s yours. Go from bottom to tip, honey.”

He sat up slightly, mouth at her collarbone, one hand cradling the back of her neck. The other reached up and wrapped lightly at her throat.

“Go on,” he growled, “That’s mine now.”

She moaned—high, desperate—and ground down hard, her walls clenching around him.

“Shit—you want somethin’ in your mouth?” he asked, voice hoarse and thick.

She nodded.

He pressed two fingers to her lips. She opened obediently, took them in, sucked slow, tongue swirling around the knuckles as her hips kept grinding down on his dick.

“Mmmnnnh…” her moan vibrated against his fingers, eyes rolling back.

“Good girl,” he growled, “Keep ridin’. Let me feel that sweet pussy melt all over me.”

Her thighs slapped softly against his. Her ass bounced in slow rhythm. Their joined bodies were a mess of slick, sweat, and sex.

She was gorgeous.

She was filthy.

She was in control.

And Smoke watched her like she was the only thing that had ever mattered.

Violet was moving now—hips rolling in slow, syrupy strokes, taking every inch of Smoke’s dick deep inside her. Her thighs burned, her skin glowed, and her mouth hung open in pleasure. Sweat beaded at the curve of her lower back.

Smoke looked up at her—wrecked, mesmerized, worshipful.

“Goddamn,” he breathed, “You’re fuckin’ art.”

Then—he reached up.

One broad, rough hand wrapped around her throat.

Not tight.

Not choking.

Just claiming.

His fingers spread across the sides of her neck, thumb resting just beneath her jaw, the pressure present, heavy enough to send a jolt of awareness through her.

Violet gasped—a high, breathy sound—and her eyes flew open behind the mask.

Her pussy clenched down hard around him.

Smoke felt it.

“Ohhh yeah,” he groaned, “You like that, don’t you? You like ridin’ with my hand right here—”

His grip stayed loose, but the weight of it made her tremble. She ground down harder, rolling her hips in tight circles.

“Mmmnh—uhhh,” she moaned, head tipping back into his palm.

“Look at you,” he whispered, “My sweet girl ridin’ like a good little slut.”

Her pussy fluttered again at the words, slick dripping down where they were joined.

And then—

SMACK.

His palm landed on her ass—not hard, but sharp enough to jolt her spine, to send heat blooming where flesh met flesh.

The sound cracked through the air.

THWAP.

Violet whined—“Ahhh—!”—more shock than pain, hips jerking forward as her pussy tightened around him.

Her thighs trembled. Her rhythm stuttered for half a second.

Smoke smirked, eyes hooded, hand still at her throat.

“You feel that, baby?” he rasped, “That sting in that ass? That stretch in your pussy? That’s me. That’s daddy.”

Violet whimpered, riding harder now, more desperate.

“Mmmnnnnh…yes…” she moaned, her hands sliding down his chest to brace again, “I need it—God, I need all of it—”

“That’s my girl,” he growled, “So good. So filthy. Drippin’ all over me and beggin’ for more.”

His other hand cupped her ass cheek, fingers splayed wide, kneading the flesh he’d just smacked.

“You want me to slap it again, baby?” he asked, voice low and hot, “Or you want me to grip up your throat next?”

Violet’s pussy clamped, a broken sob catching in her chest.

“Whatever you want—” she gasped, “Just don’t stop.”

Smoke’s hand stayed loose around Violet’s throat, dick buried deep inside her as she rocked and rolled above him—slick, full, beautiful.

But he wanted more.

Not just to feel her.

He wanted to see her.

“Turn for me,” he growled, breath hot against her chest, “Just a little. Right there—curve your body to the side.”

Violet blinked, dazed, mouth parted, hips still moving.

“What…?”

“Don’t stop,” he said, “Just lean. Curve that pretty body—yeah, like that.”

Her spine arched, and she turned her upper body slightly—off balance at first, but still grinding. One knee still braced beside his hip, the other shifted back to help her balance as she found the angle.

Across the attic the ornate gilded mirror stood angled in the flickering glow. Smoke could now see the full sweep of her body.

Her back arched in motion.

The bounce of her ass as she rode him.

The way her wet pussy spread open and swallowed his fat dick.

Fat brown pole slicked with cum and veined.

The ripple of her thighs.

“Holy fuck.”

The sight of it shattered him.

“Look at you,” he rasped, eyes locked on the reflection, “Look at that. Look at how that pussy stretch for me. Stretchin’ wide around this pole.”

Violet moaned, her cheeks flushed even darker, her eyes fluttering as she peeked toward the mirror.

“You see that, baby?” Smoke said, voice going low and filthy, “You see how nasty you look takin’ me like that? You see how that pretty little cunt’s grippin’ my dick?”

Her breath hitched—“Ah—ahhh—Smoke—”

“You see how your juices drip down my fuckin’ balls every time you bounce? Say it.”

She nodded frantically, thighs quivering.

“I want you to say it,” he growled, “Use your words, sweet girl. Tell me what you see.”

Violet whimpered, voice barely holding.

“I see…I see my pussy stretched around your dick—drippin’—taking all of you—fuck—it looks so nasty, sir—so good—”

“Damn right it does.”

Then—THWAP

Smoke popped her ass again, a crisp smack that made her jerk and moan loud.

“Ahnn—fuck!”

“That’s what I like,” he grunted, “That bounce. That jiggle. That tight pussy getting fucked.”

He grabbed both cheeks then—kneading, squeezing, spreading her open just to watch her pussy drag up and down his dick in the mirror. He made her do it real slow, so he could watch her go all the way down until his balls touched her cheeks, then he made her go faster.

“You see that mess?” he growled, “That’s mine. You makin’ a show for me, ridin’ like the sweet little slut you are.”

She cried out again, hips moving faster, her pussy wetter now from the way he praised her. Smoke’s big hands on her little waist held her steady.

“Say it again,” he whispered, thumb grazing her bottom lip.

“I’m your sweet little slut.”

“Louder.”

“I’m your sweet—fucking—slut!”

He slapped her ass again. THWAP.

Then grabbed it, held her still, groaning from the feel of her tight, slick heat.

“That’s it, baby. That’s fuckin’ it.”

Her thighs burned, her breath came out in sharp gasps, and her pussy was so wet, so full, that the drag of Smoke’s cock inside her made her see stars.

She ground down in slow, tight circles, gripping him, riding deeper, her upper body turned just enough for both of them to watch the reflection—her ass bouncing, her slick dripping, his dick—thick, brown, veined—sliding in and out of her like velvet dragged through honey.

Smoke couldn’t stop watching.

“Look at how you take me,” he growled, eyes locked on the mirror, hand on her throat, “That pretty pussy’s fuckin’ grippin’ me—squeezin’ like you were made for this dick.”

“Smoke—” she gasped, thighs trembling harder now. “I—I’m—fuck—”

He slid the hand from her throat down between her legs, fingers rubbing tight, wet circles against her clit in perfect rhythm with her hips.

“Cum for me, baby,” he rasped, voice hoarse and low, “Right here, ridin’ me like a good girl. Show me how that sweet pussy wanna be milked. Give this pussy what she been itchin’ for. There you go…spread that pussy…ride this dick, baby…that’s that pace I like…right up in it…”

Her mouth dropped open.

Her body started to shake—a tremble in her thighs, a flutter in her belly, a burn low and deep. Smoke met her strokes. Making sure she felt it. Making sure he gave her pussy what it wanted.

“I—ohh—fuck, I’m gonna—”

“You feel that heat crawlin’ up your spine?” he growled, fingers circling harder. “That ache in your clit? That swell inside your belly that says you ‘bout to lose it? Give daddy that pussy juice baby.”

“*Yes—oh God, yes—I’m cummin’—

“Then let it go.”

He thrust up into her hard—once—deep and full, burying his dick to the base as she cried out.

“*Ahhh—SMOKE—fuhhhk—I—Daddy—!”

Her body snapped, thighs locked tight around him, pussy clenching, rippling, gripping him so hard he moaned with her.

“Shiiit—that’s it, baby,” he groaned, hips still grinding as he felt her come undone, “That’s the way. Cum for me. Cream on this pole—just like that.”

Slllk…slrp…shhlk…

The sound of her soaked, spasming pussy riding him through the orgasm was filthy, intimate, perfect. Her slick coated them both, thick and wet, her pussy pulsing with every breathless cry.

“Nnnnh—uhhn—Smoke—ah—ah—”

She moaned into the crook of his neck, body trembling uncontrollably.

He held her.

Rocked her.

Rubbed her clit gently as the aftershocks made her shake.

“You’re so fuckin’ beautiful when you cum,” he whispered, kissing her shoulder, breath ragged, “This pussy’s mine forever, you know that?”

She nodded, voice barely a whisper.

“Yours.”

Smoke held Violet in his arms as she trembled, her pussy still twitching around him, wetness smeared across his thighs. Her breath was hot against his neck, her voice gone soft and shaky.

But he was still hard. Still buried inside her. Still hungry.

He pulled back slowly, lifting her chin to look at her.

“Violet,” he rasped, “I need to see you from behind.”

Her lashes fluttered. She blinked at him, cheeks flushed, lips kiss-swollen.

“You want to…?”

He kissed her—slow, deep, soft.

“I want to claim you,” he said, voice hot at her ear, “Bend you forward, spread you wide, and slide back into that soaked little pussy.”

Her breath hitched. Her thighs clenched. She remembered what Peaches had said one morning:

“That’s where you feel all of him. Deep. Like he’s tryin’ to get in your belly.”

“You nervous, baby?”

She nodded, lip caught between her teeth.

Smoke stroked her cheek, slow and soothing.

“I’ll take care of you. I promise. You’re still in control. I’m gonna make it feel so fuckin’ good,” then he spoke softly, “Will you let me put your body how I like it?”

Violet hesitated for just a second.

Then whispered, “Yes.”

Smoke kissed her hard, then shifted her gently—handling her like a treasure, not a toy. He turned her around on the floor hands guiding her hips, letting her settle onto all fours. Then he gripped her waist and slowly adjusted her.

“Belly down…good girl. Drop your chest a little more. Let that spine dip—yeah, just like that. That’s it.”

He stepped back for a beat and looked.

She was a vision—arched deep, spine curved, her back a smooth, glowing line that dipped into the plush swell of her ass. Her pussy glistened below, wet, open, and still twitching from her last orgasm.

Her thighs trembled with anticipation.

“Goddamn,” he groaned, running his hands over her hips, “You look like sin waitin’ to be devoured.”

He knelt behind her, one hand on her lower back, the other wrapping around the base of his dick. He rubbed the head along her slick folds—slow, teasing, filthy.

Shhhhhlk…shlk…slrp…

Her moan was breathless, almost frightened.

“Smoke…”

“I got you, baby,” he spoke, “Just feel it. Don’t think—feel.”

He slid the head in—barely, just enough to part her.

“Ahh—oh God—”

“Shhh, that’s it,” he whispered, eyes locked on where she stretched open for him, “This angle hits deeper, I know. Let me in slow.”

He pushed forward another inch—thick, pressing, splitting her again with slow, claiming weight.

Her pussy gripped him tighter than before, the new angle pressing into her softest spots.

“*Ahhhnn—ah—*Smoke, I—” she gasped, fingers clutching the drapes.

He stilled.

“You okay?”

She nodded into the crook of her arm, voice trembling.

“It feels…bigger.”

“It is,” he rasped, “That pussy’s stretched wide open for me. You feel how deep I’m hittin’? That’s the kind of stretch that ruins other men for you.”

He pulled out halfway, then pushed in again—slow, steady, all the way to the base.

Shhhllk…THMP.

“Ohhh—” Violet moaned, her back arching deeper.

“That’s it,” he groaned, hands gripping her hips tight, “That’s how I like it—ass high, back bowed, takin’ this dick like a good fuckin’ girl.”

He leaned over her, kissed her spine, his breath fanning across her skin.

“You mine like this,” he whispered, “This pussy—my pussy—was made to be taken from behind.”

He grinded deep. Violet sobbed into her arm.

“Mmmmn—ah—ah—uhhnn—”

“Yeah, baby,” he growled, “You feel how I fill you? Feel that pressure in your belly? That’s me ownin’ it.”

He slapped her ass—not hard, just firm—THWAP—and gripped the cheek after, kneading it like he wanted to mold it to his palm.

Her moan was broken.

“Smoke—please—”

“You want it deeper?”

“Yes—”

“You want me to ruin you a little more?”

“Yes—please—take it.”

He pulled back—long, wet drag—then slammed forward.

SHHLK—THMP.

And kept going.

Smoke’s hips snapped forward again—louder this time.

SHHLK—THMP—shhlk—THMP.

Violet moaned into her arm, body arching and collapsing with every deep thrust. It was intense, but the more he did it…the more it felt good. Overwhelmingly good. Like she didn’t know what to do with her body.

Her ass—round, slick, reddened from his grip—ricocheted off his pelvis, the bounce rippling, the wet slap of skin on skin echoing like percussion beneath the music drifting up from the party downstairs.

A bawdy blues tune moaned through the floorboards—a woman’s voice dripping with want, backed by a piano and slow, heavy bass:

🎶 Told my man don’t be gentle, don’t be shy…

Slide it in deep ‘til I see the sky.

Took my sugar walls like a midnight sin—

Now he knockin’ ‘round my ribs just to crawl back in. 🎶

Smoke grunted through a deep thrust, his hands digging into her hips to hold her still as he buried himself balls-deep again. He scrunched his brows and stared down at Violet like he couldn’t believe this the type of pussy she was giving up.

SHHHLLK—THMP

“You hear that?” he groaned, “Even the music knows what I’m doin’ to you.”

Violet moaned, incoherent now, glistening, shaking, glowing under the candle’s flicker. Her arms collapsed at the elbows, chest dipping down into the drapes, back arched high, ass tilted up and spread wide for him.

She looked ruined—perfectly, beautifully ruined—and he couldn’t stop looking. Her head lolled to the side, mouth hanging open, and she started sucking on two of her fingers—middle and ring finger—mindlessly, desperate, sweet and filthy.

Smoke nearly lost it right there.

“Oh fuck, look at you…suckin’ on those fingers like I ain’t already feedin’ your pussy a whole meal.”

She whimpered around her fingers, back arching harder as she rocked back against him. Sucking on her fingers in a trance. The sight almost broke Smoke down.

“God damn, baby,” he growled, “You know what you look like right now?”

She didn’t answer—couldn’t—but her pussy twitched around him in response.

“Cross-eyed. Dumb from dick. Sweet little slut takin’ it so good her fuckin’ eyes won’t stay straight.”

He slapped her ass again—THWAP—then gripped the flesh in both hands, spreading her open, watching the way her slick little hole swallowed him.

Shlk—shhlllk—slrp—THMP.

“If only you could see how she clings to me,” he groaned, “So wet she sound like she beggin’ for more. You gettin’ used to it, pretty baby?”

Violet moaned around her fingers. Her thighs were shaking. Her slick was everywhere—on his dick, down his balls, smeared across her thighs.

He bent over her back, mouth at her ear. Then he pulled her up by one shoulder, and that made her spine curve deliciously.

“That’s ‘cause I’m fuckin’ you different now. This ain’t tender. This is mine. This is how I mark you.”

She cried out—high, shaky, desperate—fingers slipping along her tongue.

“Mmmn—uh—uh—Smoke—please—”

He licked a long, slow stripe up her spine and grunted, “Don’t worry, baby. I’m gonna fuck you through it.”

And he did.

Her moans had turned to cries, her thighs were trembling so hard Smoke had to grip her hips tighter just to keep her steady.

Every time he thrust, she jolted forward with a whimper. Violet looked back and locked eyes with Smoke. She chewed on that bottom lip, he reached down to rub his fingers into her slick spine.

THMP—shhlk—THMP—slrp—

The sounds were everywhere—slick, filthy, alive. Skin meeting skin, her soaked pussy slapping back against his hips, the wet grind of her body around him.

Smoke bent low over her, dick still driving deep, slow, devastating.

“Come on, baby,” he groaned, voice dark and hot against her neck, “Give it to me. I wanna feel this sweet pussy clench around me one more time.”

Violet whimpered, sucking her fingers harder now, mouth glazed with spit, eyes rolling up.

“I—ah—ahh—I can’t—*I’m—fuhhhck—”

“Yes, you can,” he growled, “You got one more in you. One more for me. One more to show this pussy knows who it belongs to.”

His hand slid around her belly, found her clit, rubbed tight, slick, urgent circles just as he slammed deeper from behind.

SHHLK—THMP—shlk—shhhlick—

She sobbed into the velvet.

“Smoke—Smoke I’m gonna—oh God—”

“That’s it,” he panted, “That’s it, baby. Let go. Let me feel that pretty pussy cream my dick.”

She came hard.

Her body snapped into a quake—spine arched, toes curled, fingers tangled in the drapes. Her pussy clenched so tight around his dick he couldn’t move—velvet walls fluttering, gripping, milking him, slick pouring down her thighs.

“Ahhh—ahhhhhnn—nnnnnh—”

She choked on his name—“Smoke—Smoke—Smoke—”—as her orgasm ripped through her, raw and devastating.

Her whole body trembled beneath him, locked in wave after wave of pulsing heat.

Smoke lost it.

His voice cracked as he pushed deep, deep, buried to the hilt, and groaned so loud it shook his chest.

“Fuuuuuuck—Violet—I’m cummin’, baby—I’m fuckin’ cummin’—”

His big dick throbbed and released inside her—hot, thick, pouring into her in long, deep spurts—hips retracting as he released more onto her folds and the fabric beneath. He groaned with every pulse, hips grinding as he spilled into the tight clutch of her still-spasming pussy.

“Take it. Take every fuckin’ drop. This here mines. You fuckin’ hear me?”

He wrapped an arm around her waist, holding her against him as he pulsed and groaned, pressing kisses to her shoulder and neck.

The blues song below faded into a final cry of brass.

And the room went quiet except for their ragged breathing.

Their bodies were tangled. Slick. Shaking.

Filled.

And together.

Violet collapsed into the drapes, her body trembling, her breath catching in little sobs of release. Her legs refused to work. Her skin glistened with sweat. And her pussy—soaked, stretched, filled to overflowing—still pulsed gently around the weight of Smoke’s dick softening inside her.

He was still deep. Still holding her hips. Still breathing hard against her spine.

“Shhh,” he soothed, pressing a kiss to the dip between her shoulders, “I got you.”

His voice was rough, spent, but tender.

Smoke withdrew slowly—gently—one hand smoothing over her back as he pulled out with a soft, wet slide.

Shhhhlk…slrp…

Violet gasped, twitching at the loss, and a warm trickle of his release followed, dripping between her thighs onto the sheets below.

“Fuck,” he whispered, staring at the mess, “Look what we did.”

Then he moved—quick, careful, like her body was something precious that needed wrapping, not wiping away. He reached for a folded towel that had been placed by violet earlier, used it to gently clean the inside of her thighs, his cum, her slick, the stickiness between them.

“Still with me?” he asked softly, rubbing her calf.

Violet nodded, her voice a murmur.

“I’ve never…felt anything like that.”

Smoke smiled against her skin.

“Me neither.”

He gathered her up—lifted her, turned her, pulled her into his chest like he was folding her back into himself.

She curled into him without hesitation, bare and boneless. Her breath still trembled. Her thighs twitched against his. His arms wrapped around her middle. One hand cradled her jaw. The other rubbed slow circles on her lower back, grounding her.

“Good girl,” he whispered, brushing his lips against her temple, “You gave me everything. And you took it like a fuckin’ dream.”

Violet buried her face against his chest.

“You okay?” he asked again.

She nodded.

“Better than okay.”

He smiled.

They lay there for a while—limbs tangled, bodies warm, sheets damp, the slow rise and fall of their breathing syncing like waves in the dark.

Then Smoke whispered, like a secret just for her.

“Next time, I want you to ride me with the mask off. I wanna see every part of you when you cum. Wanna watch your eyes when you break.”

Violet looked up at him through her lashes, flushed and soft.

“Only if I get to tie you up next time.”

Smoke blinked, then laughed—low, hoarse, adoring.

“Goddamn,” he whispered, pressing his forehead to hers, “You gon’ kill me.”

They lay tangled for a while, just breathing—bodies still slick with sweat and the fading pulse of pleasure. Violet dozed briefly, limbs boneless, cheek pressed to Smoke’s chest. He ran fingers through her damp hair, lips brushing her forehead, letting her rest in the silence between the music downstairs and the storm they’d just weathered together.

Eventually, he shifted beneath her, and spoke, “Come on, sugar. Let’s get you cleaned up before you melt into this floor.”

She stirred, soft and sleepy, lips brushing his skin, “You ruined me.”

He chuckled low, kissed the crown of her head, “Damn right I did.”

She swatted his chest weakly.

He dressed her slowly—gentle, loving, helping her into her dress, then tugged his shirt and pants back on without bothering to button it. Her mask still clung to her face, half askew, ribbon trailing.

He scooped her up bridal-style, arms strong beneath her legs and back.

“Gonna carry me?” she asked, blushing.

“Always.”

They left the attic loft quietly, stepping into the cool hallway beyond. The air was heavy with incense and smoke, the sound of low blues music still rising from the floorboards, dim now—slow, brassy, spent.

Violet’s room was further down the hall, the last door near the corner—secluded, tucked away.

Smoke shouldered it open with ease, stepping into the quiet dark and closing it behind them.

He carried her straight to the little washroom, where a deep clawfoot tub waited—already drawn earlier by one of the house girls at Violet’s request. Still warm. Still steaming. Rose petals floated lazily across the surface, and a lavender-salt scent clung to the air.

He set her down on the edge of the tub and undressed her slowly—untying the dress, letting it fall away. The white satin ribbon was the last thing he touched, fingers curling under it.

“Let me see you,” he said softly.

Violet nodded.

He pulled the bow loose, tugged the mask free—and saw her eyes fully for the first time tonight.

Soft. Wild. Glowing.

“Fuck,” he whispered, “You’re so goddamn beautiful.”

A blush crept up her chest. She looked away, smiling shy.

He stepped out of his stacks, removed his shirt and climbed into the tub first, settling into the steaming water. Then he helped her in, pulling her into his lap.

She settled between his thighs, back against his chest, his arms wrapping around her belly beneath the water.

“You sore?” he asked, voice thick with tenderness.

“A little,” she spoke softly, “But it’s the good kind.”

He kissed the nape of her neck.

They sat for a while like that—warm, naked, silent—the water lapping gently at their skin, the world outside forgotten.

Smoke dipped a cloth into the water and brought it to her chest, dragging it slowly between her breasts, across her belly, between her thighs. He was gentle now, but still intentional—his touch a silent promise.

I’ll wreck you, and then I’ll hold you together.

“Never knew a girl who could ride it like that,” he murmured, teasing now, “Took me so deep I swear I saw stars.”

“You deserved it,” she whispered, leaning back against him,“I practiced, remember? All those times I rode your thigh.”

“And the way you sucked my dick,” he blew are out his mouth, “Baby…”

Violet giggled, “Thank you.”

He grinned, kissed her shoulder, “Might need to watch that sometime. You and that cucumber.”

She gasped, slapped water at him.

“Elijah!”

He laughed, arms tightening around her.

“Say it again.”

“What?”

“My name. Not just Smoke. I want you to say Elijah.”

She tilted her head back and whispered it softly.

“Elijah.”

His breath caught. His grip around her waist pulsed.

“Yeah,” he said, “That’s the one.”

The bathwater had cooled some, but neither of them moved. Violet sat curled between his legs, back to his chest, her cheek resting against his shoulder. Elijah’s arms stayed wrapped around her middle, fingers laced softly over her navel, as if holding her was the only thing keeping him steady. The room glowed gold and low. Candlelight flickered against the tile walls. Outside, the blues had faded into silence.

Inside—only them.

Violet shifted a little, nestled closer, drawing in a long breath like she was trying to swallow something tight in her chest.

“Elijah…” she whispered, barely above the soft splash of water.

“Mm?” His chin brushed her temple.

She turned her face just slightly, enough for him to see her eyes—wide, vulnerable, glassy with tears that hadn’t yet fallen.

“Thank you.”

He stilled.

She swallowed, “For seeing me. For being patient. For… not taking it from me. For letting me choose when it was time.”

Her voice cracked a little, but she didn’t hide.

“I know I was ready,” she whispered, “But it still… mattered. More than I knew it would.”

Smoke’s chest rose under her spine. He held her tighter, one hand coming up to brush a damp curl from her cheek.

“Of course it mattered,” he said softly, “It’s yours, baby. It was always supposed to be yours to give—when, how, to who. All of it.”

Violet’s tears slipped loose then—soft, quiet, not from regret but from the way his words found the places she never let anyone see. She turned fully into his chest, arms wrapping around him, face buried in the hollow beneath his collarbone.

“I didn’t think I’d ever feel like this,” she whispered, “Safe. Wanted. Chosen.”

Smoke pressed a kiss to her hair. His voice was low, adorning, “You’re more than wanted,” he said, “You’re seen. And every time you give me a piece of yourself, I’m gonna hold it like it’s the only thing in the world that matters.”

She sobbed once—quiet and grateful—then kissed his chest right above his heart.

“I felt everything,” she said with a soft spoken voice, Even when it hurt…it was good. You made it good.”

He closed his eyes, one hand stroking slow up and down her back.

“You made it good, baby,” he whispered, “You gave me something sacred. That’s yours. It always will be. But now it’s ours, too.”

you know you shouldn’t be watching it again – but it’s late, your apartment’s quiet, and your body’s already decided for you. your dress was already unzipped, one heel kicked off somewhere under the coffee table. you’re half-drunk on good wine and the high of surviving yet another mixer full of glossy business cards, hollow compliments, and names you’re supposed to recognize. but this?

this is the real show.

your phone rests delicately in your palm, brightness turned low. the video’s already queued up, and you don’t need to scroll. it’s… bookmarked. categorized as “for emergency use only” – though let’s be honest, it’s been a very horny week and you’ve hit play every night since monday.

the frame opens the same every time: low light, dark velvet couch. a.p. steele, propped up in his own bed, thighs spread like sin, the muscles of his chest flexing with every slow stroke of his hand across his shaft.

“…y’know,” he grumbles, that thick english accent so much filthier when he’s tired and worked up, “i had a really long day.”

a deep inhale. a subtle shift in his wrist. “and y’know what i need? to cum. hard.”

your fingers slip beneath the lace of your panties like a prayer answered. because god, those thighs. his tattooed arms, that wide chest, and that heavy, lazy smile. his eyes, hooded and hungry, staring straight into the camera like he knows you’re watching. like he knows exactly how many times you’ve mouthed his name into the curve of your pillow, sweating, shaking, spent.

he starts slow as always. a.p. doesn’t just touch himself; he makes love to the tension that builds. his strokes are long and measured, his hips subtly shifting beneath the weight of his own hand, and his voice is a wrecking ball.

“you want this?” he murmurs, thumb dragging over his leaking tip as he pants. “wanna watch me lose it for you?”

you’ve watched this video so many times that your body moves with it. your back arches just as his jaw clenches. your breathing syncs with the pace of his strokes. your fingers circle faster, tighter, deeper.

and right when he groans – raw and beautiful and broken, “fuck, i’m gonna –” he spills hot across his stomach in thick, brutal ropes.

your orgasm crashes into you at the exact same moment, a stuttering gasp ripping through your chest as you bite your lip and try not to moan too loudly into the empty room.

you lie there for a long moment after, still trembling, legs twitching, shame mingling with euphoria in that all-too-familiar afterglow.

you hate how many times you’ve cum to the same damn video. and more embarrassingly, you know you’ll do it again tomorrow.

but the funny thing about fate is that she’s a bitch.

because not even 24 hours later, you’re at a private party downtown, invited by a friend of a friend, sipping a ginger beer with your back against the kitchen island, when you feel him walk into the room.

you feel him before you see him.

that same energy from the video: calm, deliberate, heavy. it rolls in behind you like smoke and syrup and sin, curling up your spine. then comes that voice curling against the shell of your ear. “evening.”

you freeze. and not in a figurative way. not like wow i’m stunned. like your body’s been flash-frozen and your soul has just exited through your ankles.

because standing three feet behind you in an olive-green jacket, black shirt, and jeans that deserve their own movie credit, is a.p. steele in the flesh, in your immediate vicinity, looking at you like you’ve already failed to hide every filthy thing you’ve ever thought about him.

you turn slowly. blink. swallow. do not choke on your drink. play it cool, you tell yourself. smile. say hi. pretend he didn’t make you cum so hard last night you had to change the sheets. but of course, your mouth betrays you. “holy shit.”

he lifts an eyebrow, amused. “that’s one way to say hello.”

you’re already shaking your head, flustered beyond repair. “no – i mean, yes, hello, hi, i just – i wasn’t expecting –”

“to run into me?”

“to run into you,” you echo, cheeks burning. “like. in real life.”

his mouth tilts, crooked and devastating. he knows. and he’s enjoying this. “have we met before?” he asks, that voice dripping like warm honey, smoothed out by a lazy smirk.

“no,” you squeak. “no, we’ve definitely – um.” you clear your throat. “we haven’t met.”

he sips his drink, casually. unbothered. built like the devil but patient like a saint. “but you know who i am.”

you stare at the label on your ginger beer like it might open a portal to save you. “i mean…” you murmur. “who doesn’t?”

he laughs, sitting low in his chest. it was deep. way too familiar.

and you feel it behind your knees. “you watch my work?” he asks, like he’s asking if you caught the game last night.

you consider launching yourself off the balcony. instead, you grip the counter like it might save your soul. “okay. i think i need to go lie down in traffic.”

“don’t,” he says easily. “it’s a compliment.”

you whip your head up. “excuse me?”

he shrugs, finishing his drink. “you’re flustered. which means i did something right. or several things. depending on which video.”

his hand lands beside yours. pinky just barely brushing against your skin. intentional. measured.

“i don’t usually come to these things,” he murmurs, voice lowering a shade. “too many names. too many people pretending they don’t know who i am.”

you glance up – big mistake. his eyes are locked on you, dark and so sure. like he already knows how you taste.

“but you…” he continues, voice velvet-wrapped and dangerous. “you’re really quiet now. not like you were last night.”

your breath catches and your lips part. “wha – how do you –?”