Content Fiend.

The plane lands and Annie feels it in her chest before the wheels even settle, a quiet drop that has nothing to do with altitude. She stays seated, fingers curled around the strap of her purse. She hears the seatbelt signs ding, people stand, some stretch, others reach for their bags and fall into the aisle like this is routine.

Her carry-on sits in the overhead bin above her, untouched. She watches the passengers go. Row by row. Voice after voice fading toward the exit.

No rush. No urgency. Just movement she doesn’t join because as long as she’s still sitting here… she’s not really here yet.

The cabin empties around her. The noise dies down to something softer. Distant. A flight attendant murmurs something near the front. A bag wheel drags faint across the aisle, then disappears.

And then—it’s quiet.

Annie exhales slowly, her hand coming up to rest against the edge of the seat in front of her.

There’s nothing left to wait on.

She stands, reaching up for her bag, fingers closing around the handle without hesitation, but she still pauses once it’s in her hands. Just for a second—like this is it.

She steps into the aisle walking forward, and this time there’s nothing slowing her down but herself. It all feels too normal for something that didn’t feel small when she decided to do it. She tells herself it’s just a trip. A visit. Something quick. Something she can leave if it goes left. Her mouth presses thin at that, because she knows that’s not true. 

Not really. 

The airport air greets her the same way it always does, cool and overworked, carrying a faint mix of coffee, cleaning solution, and people moving in every direction at once. She walks with the crowd, not rushing, and not dragging either. She’s keeping pace until she reaches baggage claim. The carousel hums, metal groaning under the weight of suitcases circling over and over. Annie stands with her arms folded, eyes scanning without really seeing, her mind running ahead of her. Eight years. She says it again in her head as if it’ll sound differently the second time. 

It doesn’t.

Her suitcase comes around eventually, the one she packed late the night before, half her things folded, half thrown in when she started thinking too much. She grips the handle, pulls it down, and sets it upright beside her. For a second she considers calling Pearline asking where she is. Instead, she heads for the exit.

The doors slide open and the air outside hits different—warmer, heavier, carrying that familiar weight she hasn’t felt in years. It settles over her shoulders without asking. The sounds come with it, engines idling, horns tapping, voices calling out across the pickup lane. Annie steps off to the side, out of the main flow, her hand resting on the handle of her suitcase while she scans the line of cars pulling up and pulling off. Her heart beats a little faster than she wants it to, a quiet rhythm she can’t quite calm.

She checks her phone. No new messages. Of course not.

She exhales through her nose and looks up again just as a familiar voice cuts loudly through the noise. “There’s my bestie!!”

Annie turned at the sound. Pearline was halfway out of the car, door wide open, eyes locked on her with the biggest grin on her face. Her brown skin was warm under the light. Her edges laid clean, hair pulled back into a long, sleek ponytail that fell down her back. She wore a fitted tank and loose shorts sitting easy on her hips, her gold earrings gleaming in the sun. Everything about her gave effortless.

“Girl,” Pearline says, walking straight into her space, arms wrapping around her before Annie can say anything.

Annie laughs into it, the sound coming out lighter than she feels, hugging her back just as tight. “Hey, Line.”

“You really here,” Pearline murmurs, pulling back just enough to look at her, hands still on her arms like she’s making sure she’s real. “I thought you was playin’.”

“I almost was,” Annie admits.

Pearline snorts. “I know. That’s why I ain’t believe you.”

Annie rolls her eyes, but it doesn’t hold. There’s something grounding about Pearline standing right in front of her, familiar in a way that doesn’t require explanation.

“Let me see you,” Pearline says, stepping back, eyes dragging over her with open approval. “Okay… you came down here lookin’ like this on purpose.”

Annie huffs out a small laugh. “Please.”

“Nah, fren. You look good.”

Annie shrugs it off, but her hand smooths over her shirt anyway, a small, unconscious motion. The fabric sits soft against her skin, one shoulder left bare, the neckline dipping just enough to show she thought about it longer than she’ll admit. The baby blue lounge set hugs her easy without trying, the kind of outfit that looks simple until you notice how it falls.

Her braids trail down her back, long knotless boho plaits with loose waves woven through, catching movement when she does. Fresh. Neat. Intentional.

Pearline reaches for Annie’s suitcase without asking, already turning toward the car. “Come on. Before they start blowin’ at me.”

Annie follows, rolling her carry-on behind her as Pearline pops the trunk and lifts the larger suitcase in. Annie angles the smaller one beside it. Pearline shuts the trunk and moves around to the driver’s side. Annie heads for the passenger door, sliding into the seat, purse sliding off her shoulder. Pearline gets in a second later, the doors shutting one after the other, sealing them into a smaller space, the outside noise dropping to a dull hum.

At first, neither of them says anything. 

Pearline pulls out into traffic, one hand on the wheel, the other resting easy.

Annie looks out the window, watching the road open up in front of them, something tight settling low in her chest.

“You ok?” Pearline asks, not looking at her yet.

Annie nods once, even though Pearline can’t see it. “Yeah.”

Pearline glances over anyway. “Mm.”

Annie lets out a breath that doesn’t fully release anything. “I’m here,” she says, quieter now.

Pearline nods, like that’s enough for now. “Yeah,” she says. “You here.”

The house sits back off the road, gravel crunching under the tires as Jada pulls in. Late afternoon light cuts across the front windows, making the new build look sharper and cleaner than it probably is.

“Tell me this ain’t a good one,” Jada says, cutting the engine.

Smoke takes a moment, eyes scanning the exterior lines, the lot, the roof pitch. “It’s solid.”

She smiles, satisfied, already reaching for the door handle. “I know it is.”

They step out, the heat sitting heavier here, quieter than the job site, no machines, no noise—just space.

Jada leads the way up the short walk, unlocking the door and pushing it open. “Watch your step,” she says over her shoulder, already inside.

The air is cool and smells of fresh paint and new wood. The place echoes, empty and full of potential. 

Jada immediately slips into real estate mode, walking him through the house with easy confidence. “Three bed, two and a half bath,” she says, leading him into the open living area. “Good natural light in the mornings. Owners are asking for three-fifty, but they’re motivated. They need to close quick.”

Smoke follows a half-step behind, moving like the foreman he is. His hand drags along the drywall, pressing lightly to check how solid it feels. He taps a knuckle against a support beam, eyes narrowing at the trim work in the corners.

“Who built it?” he asks.

“Local crew,” she says.

Smoke’s hand drags briefly along the counter edge again. “Mm.”

Jada glances at him. “What?”

He looks toward the ceiling line, then the trim near the doorway. “Corners lazy.”

She laughs immediately. “Boy, please, don’t start.”

“I ain’t start nothin’,” he says, a faint smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth.

Jada keeps going. “Kitchen’s decent. Not gourmet, but the layout works. I’m thinking I might make an offer myself — flip it. Put in better finishes, maybe extend the island, update the backsplash. Could turn a solid profit in six months.”

She glances back at him, expecting the usual thoughtful input.

Smoke nods, but his response is delayed. “Yeah… layout’s good.”

His fingers trail along the wall again as they move into the hallway. He crouches slightly to check the baseboards, then stands and tests a door hinge. The motions are automatic. Professional.

But his mind is somewhere else.

“…I thought you were saying goodbye.”

Annie’s voice from the phone call keeps cutting in. The way it softened on his name. The hesitation. The way he’d shut her down — flat, cold, final. He clenches his jaw. He’s pissed at himself for how easily she got under his skin after eight years. Pissed that one phone call had him replaying old shit he thought he’d buried.

Jada leads him into the primary bedroom. “This is the money room. Closet’s decent size. Bathroom has that nice tub — that’s what sells it to couples.” She turns, gesturing toward the windows. “Backyard’s big enough for a deck or even a small pool if someone wanted to go crazy.”

Smoke steps past her, running his palm over the painted wall, checking for imperfections. He glances out the window at the yard, but his eyes are unfocused. In his head he hears his own voice again — “…ain’t no ‘us,’ Annie.” — and feels a flicker of regret he doesn’t expect.

Jada stops talking. She watches him for a long moment, arms slowly crossing.

“You good?” she asks.

Smoke blinks, pulling himself back. “Uh huh.”

Too quick. Too flat.

Jada’s eyes narrow. She leans against the doorframe, studying him. “You been here in body, Smoke, but your mind been somewhere else since we walked through that front door. I’m talkin’ about flippin’ this house, making money, and you barely nodding at me.”

“I’m listenin’.”

“No, you hearin’ me,” she says. “That ain’t the same thing.”

He exhales, dragging a hand down his face. Annie’s words hit him again — “I was wrong.” — and the irritation at himself flares hotter. He shouldn’t still care this much.

Jada watches him quietly another second. “Did somethin’ happen?”

Smoke shakes his head once. “Nah.”

A lie.

Not a full one. But enough.

Jada’s mouth presses thin. “Okay.”

Minutes pass. Then another.

And when he still doesn’t offer anything else, something in her expression changes. Not anger. Something more tired than that.

Jada looks at him for another second before speaking again. “You ever see this bein’ more than what it is?”

Smoke’s gaze flickers toward her.

Brief.

Guarded.

The room goes quiet around them.

“I thought we was clear about what this was,” he says carefully.

Jada nods once. “We were, but—but clear don’t mean feelings disappear.”

That settles heavier than he expects.

She exhales softly, stepping closer, arms uncrossing. “I’m not askin’ for the world. I’m not askin’ you to move in or slap a label on us. But I’m tired of feeling like I’m the only one even thinkin’ ahead sometimes.”

The silence stretches.

Smoke looks at her. Really looks. For half a second he imagines leaning into what she’s offering — something stable, no ghosts. It would be simpler.

But Annie’s voice is still there.

Jada continues, voice softening with old hurt. “I liked you since we was in high school, you know. For real. You were always so wrapped up in sports, running the streets, chasing after…” She catches herself, the name Annie almost slipping out. She swallows it when she sees the slight shift in his eyes. “Chasing after what you wanted. I told myself it was whatever. We were young.”

She lets out a shaky breath. “Then we got together and it felt different. Easier. At least for me. I know what we said this was. I know. But sometimes I let myself forget that I’m the one waiting for you to show up all the way. And that shit hurts more than I thought it would.”

Smoke feels the weight of both women now, one standing right in front of him, the other lodged in his head. He’s angry at himself for letting Annie crack the seal he’d kept closed for years.

“I’m not trying to play games with you,” he says finally, voice low and even. “You know that. I told you from the beginnin’ what I got room for right now. I’m focused on work, building. I’m not in a place to give more than what we already doin’.”

Jada searches his face, eyes glistening. “Then why does it feel like even what we are doing is starting to change? You been distant. Like your mind somewhere else every time I touch you.”

She steps back, folding her arms. “Be honest wit me, Smoke. What’s up?”

He doesn’t flinch or look away, but the question lodges heavy beneath his ribs, pressing against things he’d rather leave alone.

A long breath leaves him.

“Some old shit came back up,” he says finally, voice lower now. “And I ain’t figured out what to do with it yet.”

The fact that he admitted even that means it matters more than he wants it to. 

Jada watches him carefully, because that’s not nothing, and  the fact that he admitted even that means it matters more than he wants it to.

Jada studies him for another second, something tight moving across her face.

“Okay,” she says quietly. “That make sense.”

A bitter kind of understanding settles into the room after that. Not relief. Just the realization that the distance she’d been feeling wasn’t in her head after all.

She turns toward the hallway, shoulders looser. “Come on. You ain’t even seen the backyard yet.”

Smoke follows.

Present in body.

But his mind is still split — half here with Jada, half stuck on a phone call he wishes hadn’t affected him at all.

And for the first time in a long time, he doesn’t know which pull feels heavier.

The restaurant hums around them, loud enough to blur into background noise after a while. Grease crackles behind the counter. Somebody near the jukebox keeps laughing too hard at their own jokes. Plates clink. Sweet tea sweats against the table beneath Annie’s hand.

Pearline leans forward across the booth, fries halfway to her mouth already laughing before she can even finish the story.

“I’m checking this man in yesterday,” she says, shaking her head. “And he kept calling me ‘young lady’ every five seconds.”

Annie snorts softly. “Uh oh.”

“No, listen. So I ask for his insurance card, right? This man gon’ lean over the counter talmbout, ‘I got somethin’ else I can give you too.’”

Annie immediately groans. “Oh my God.”

Pearline points at her with the fry. “Mind you—this man had to be at least sixty.”

Annie bursts out laughing.

“Sixty is insane.”

“I said sir,” Pearline continues, barely holding her own laugh together now, “‘the only thing I need from you is a copay and a blood pressure reading.’”

Annie folds forward against the table laughing hard enough her shoulders shake.

“You did not say that.”

“I absolutely did.”

“You so ignorant.”

“And employed,” Pearline says proudly.

Annie wipes beneath one eye, still laughing. “See, this why old people love you though.”

Pearline gasps dramatically. “Love WHO? That man had compression socks on.”

Annie nearly chokes on her drink.

“Line!”

“I’m serious! One wrong step and his circulation gone.”

“You don’t want an older man no more?” Annie teases, grinning now. “I thought you liked older.”

Pearline rolls her eyes. “Older, Annie. Not social security old.”

Annie loses it again.

The sound leaves her before she can stop it, loud and full and real enough that a couple people glance over smiling. Pearline starts laughing harder seeing Annie laugh, both of them leaning into the kind of silliness that only comes easy with people who knew you before life got complicated.

For a little while, the tight feeling sitting inside Annie loosens.

Not completely.

But enough that she forgets herself for a minute.

Then the front door opens.

Warm air pushes briefly through the restaurant along with the low murmur of voices from outside. Somebody steps in laughing. Another person behind them complaining about parking.

Annie barely looks up at first.

Pearline keeps talking, still smiling to herself while she reaches for another fry. “And then this man gon’ ask me if I was married—”

Something pulls low through Annie’s chest.

Faint.

Strange enough that her attention drifts before she understands why. The feeling curls slow beneath her ribs, familiar in a way that makes her stomach tighten.

Her smile fades slightly.

Pearline notices immediately. “What?”

Annie blinks once, dragging herself back. “Nothin’.”

But her eyes move toward the front of the restaurant anyway. People crowd near the entrance waiting to be seated. Somebody brushes past carrying takeout bags. Plates clatter behind the counter.

Normal. Everything normal. Still—that feeling lingers. Like her body recognized something before her mind caught up.

Across the restaurant, Smoke pauses halfway through pulling his wallet from his pocket. A faint crease forms between his brows. Jada is saying something beside him, voice low, easy, but it blurs at the edges for a second beneath the sudden pull in his chest.

Not pain. Not memory either. Something sharper than that.

Attention.

His eyes move across the restaurant slowly without meaning to. Over booths. Over faces. Over movement. Searching for something he can’t name.

Jada notices the pause immediately. “What?”

Smoke looks back at her after a second. “I don’t know,” and he means it, because the feeling makes no sense.

Pearline watches Annie carefully now. “You okay?”

Annie wets her lips lightly before nodding once. “Yeah.”

Lie.

A soft one this time.

The restaurant suddenly feels smaller than it did five minutes ago. Louder too. The laughter around them blending into something harder to separate.

Her fingers curl around her glass.

Across the room, Smoke finally looks away, attention dragged back toward the hostess speaking to him. The feeling eases… barely, but enough that both of them let it go without understanding why.

Pearline leans back slowly against the booth, eyes narrowing slightly while she watches Annie stare down into her drink.

Then quietly, “…you felt that?”

Annie’s eyes lift immediately.

Too fast.

Pearline sees it right away.

And Annie hates that she does.

“What are you talking about?” Annie asks.

Pearline’s eyes drift toward the front of the restaurant out of instinct more than anything else.

That’s when she sees him.

Smoke.

Tall frame moving deeper inside beside a woman Pearline recognizes immediately.

Jada.

Understanding flickers across Pearline’s face slow and quiet after that.

Then she looks back at Annie, staring at her for a little longer, something unreadable passing briefly across her face.

Then she picks up her drink.

“Mm,” she says quietly. “Never mind.”

And somehow—that feels worse.

A lamp glows low in the living room of Pearline’s apartment while soft music plays from Pearline’s phone in the kitchen, the sound muffled beneath running water and cabinet doors opening and closing. Outside, tires hiss faint across wet pavement from an earlier rain. Laughter in the distance. Then even that fades too.

Annie stands in the bathroom mirror wiping the last traces of makeup from beneath her eyes. Her reflection stares back at her looking softer now. Tired around the edges.

Too aware.

Steam still clings faint against the mirror from her shower. Annie stands there a moment longer gathering her braids up carefully, twisting the long plaits over one shoulder before tucking them beneath a satin bonnet. By the time she finishes, a few loose curls still frame the edges of her face, damp against her skin.

The soft pajama set hangs easy against her body—thin straps, fitted shorts, the material cool and smooth against freshly lotioned skin. The house smells faintly like fabric softener and shea butter. Home. Or close enough to confuse her body into believing it. She braces both hands against the counter and lowers her head for a second.

That feeling in the restaurant keeps replaying. The sudden pull low in her chest. The strange awareness crawling over her skin before she even understood why.

Then Pearline’s face after.

Never mind.

Annie exhales sharply through her nose because Pearline saw something. She knows she did. And somehow that feels worse than if she’d said it out loud.

Annie straightens again, staring at herself. “You are twenty-five years old,” she mutters softly. “Get a grip.” But her stomach twists anyway, because the feeling back at the restaurant hadn’t felt random. Now her mind keeps circling back to the impossible question.

Did he feel it too?

The thought comes fast enough to irritate her immediately. This is ridiculous. Eight years gone and suddenly she’s standing in a bathroom spiraling over a feeling she can’t even explain?

Except—deep down—she knows the feeling had something to do with him. Even without seeing him. Even without proof. 

The realization settles slowly, heavily.

All day she kept telling herself she came here for clarity. Closure. Conversation. Something mature. Safe.

Now? Now she knows better.

Her chest tightens gradually beneath the weight of it. Closure never made somebody board a plane. Closure never made somebody hold onto a voice for nearly a decade. Closure never made her react before she even saw his face.

Annie closes her eyes briefly.

And there it is.

Quiet.

Ugly.

True.

She still loves him.

The realization moves through her body so clean it almost makes her angry. Not teenage nostalgia. Not curiosity. Not unfinished business.

Love.

Grown now. Older. Heavier. Still alive after everything she did to bury it.

A knock taps softly against the bathroom door before she can sink any deeper into it.

“You alive in there?” Pearline calls.

Annie clears her throat quickly. “Yeah.”

“You want wine or you still pretending to have self-control?”

Despite herself, Annie laughs softly.

“Wine.”

“That’s what I thought.”

Annie looks at herself one last time before turning the bathroom light off. But even lying in bed later, wine half-finished on the nightstand beside her, sleep refuses to come. Moonlight stretches pale across the ceiling. Her phone rests face down near her hip.

Every few minutes she fights the urge to pick it up. To text him. To ask him something she doesn’t even fully understand herself. Instead she stares upward listening to the soft hum of the ceiling fan in her room.

And somewhere between one breath and the next, her chest aches with the terrifying realization that seeing him again might actually ruin her life a little.

—

Across town, Smoke sits alone on his back porch.

The night air hangs warm against his skin, carrying the smell of rain soaked dirt and cigarette smoke curling slowly from between his fingers. Crickets hum steady through the dark tree line bordering the yard.

His phone rests face down beside him. Unread messages. Ignored phone calls. Inside, the television plays low to nobody. He drags another pull from the cigarette, gaze fixed somewhere beyond the fence line.

The restaurant sits under his skin wrong. Not the food. Not Jada.

The feeling.

That strange pull in his chest the second he walked through the door.

His jaw tightens faintly.

Jada clocked it too.

Smoke exhales smoke slowly through his nose before leaning forward, forearms resting against his knees.

“…some old shit came back up.”

The words sound weaker now than they did earlier. Too vague. Too clean for what it actually feels like, because the truth is uglier than that. The truth is one phone call cracked open something he spent years sealing shut.

And tonight? Tonight it felt close. Close enough to touch.

His tongue drags slowly across the inside of his cheek. He still hears her voice sometimes if he sits still too long.

I thought you were saying goodbye.

Smoke closes his eyes briefly. That part keeps digging at him, because she really believed that. Believed he was trying to leave her first. A humorless laugh leaves him low beneath his breath. Whole time he was trying to hand her every part of himself he didn’t know how to say out loud.

The cigarette burns lower between his fingers.

His phone buzzes once. He doesn’t move immediately. Then finally grabs it without much interest.

Jada.

You made it home?

His thumb hovers briefly over the screen.

A good woman. Patient. Beautiful. Trying, and still…his chest stays tangled somewhere else entirely. 

Smoke stares at the message another second before typing back.

Yeah.

The response sends. Short. Same way he always does.

But afterward he sits there staring out into the dark feeling more alone than he has in years.

The next afternoon arrives thick with heat and sunlight baked deep into the pavement. Pearline’s car smells faintly of vanilla and fries from the drive-thru bag sitting between them while Annie scrolls through the grocery list on her phone.

“You really invited half the town over for this cookout?” Annie asks.

Pearline keeps one hand on the wheel, sunglasses pushed high on her nose. “Please. People heard you was back and invited themselves.”

Annie snorts softly. “That’s actually terrifying.”

“You should feel honored.”

“I feel hunted.”

Pearline laughs loud at that, reaching over to steal one of Annie’s fries before Annie smacks her hand away.

“Girl!”

“You got plenty.”

“You literally driving. Focus on the road.”

“I am focused.”

“You almost merged into that truck.”

Pearline sucks her teeth dramatically. “See? This why I don’t miss you.”

Annie smiles despite herself, leaning back into the seat. Warm air curls through the cracked window, brushing against the loose pieces escaping from the long braided ponytail draped over her shoulder.

Her phone chimes against her thigh.

Pearline glances over. “Who is that?”

Annie looks down.

Mama.

Her chest softens instantly.

“Mama. She checkin’ in,” Annie murmurs.

Pearline smiles faintly. “Tell Auntie I said hey.”

Annie types out a quick I’m good. We out runnin’ errands. Love you before setting the phone back down.

Before she can say anything else, Pearline’s phone rings through the speakers.

Stack’s laugh comes low and filthy through the speakers. “Yeah, you know what. You was screaming my name last week when my tongue was deep in that puss—”

“STACK, OH MY GOD!” Pearline yells, eyes wide with horror as she frantically turns the volume down. “Shut the hell up!”

Annie folds forward laughing immediately, one hand over her mouth, shoulders shaking so hard she can barely breathe.

Stack cackles through the speakers.

“Nah, don’t act shy now.”

“Elias, shut UP.” Pearline’s entire face twists in pure mortification. She glares at the phone like she can somehow fight him through it.

“You wasn’t tellin’ me shut up then.”

Pearline slaps the steering wheel. “Annie in the car!”

Silence.

Then—

“…OH SHIT.”

Annie completely loses it.

Stack groans loud through the speakers. “Man, why y’all ain’t stop me?”

Pearline stares ahead at the road. “We tried.”

“No, y’all absolutely did not.”

Annie can barely get herself together enough to speak. “Hi, Stack.”

“Aw man,” he says, voice full of disbelief now. “Annie really in my business hearin’ all this.”

Pearline grins immediately. “That’s what you get.”

“When did she get there?” Stack asks.

Pearline rolls her eyes. “Boy, I told you yesterday I was pickin’ her up from the airport.”

Silence—

Then Stack groans again. “Aight, yeah. You right.”

Annie laughs softly.

“I was high as fuck when you told me,” he admits. “Blown.”

Pearline snorts. “Please.”

“Nah, I’m serious.” His tone softens some under the jokes now. “Annie-annie really back?”

That old nickname pulls warmth straight through Annie’s chest.

“Yes, fool.”

“Oh nah,” Stack says immediately. “Pull up right now.”

Pearline smirks. “That’s literally what we doin’.”

“Bet.”

The call ends a second later.

Annie shakes her head, still smiling down at her lap, wiping tears from the corner of her eyes. “So… last week, huh?” she teases, voice dripping with amusement. “I thought you said you hadn’t hooked up wit him since you found out about Mary. That’s crazy.”

“Shut up,” Pearline mutters, sucking her teeth hard. She keeps her eyes glued to the road, but her cheeks burning. “It wasn’t even like that. He just… caught me at a weak moment.”

“Mm-hmm,” Annie says, grinning wider. “Weak moment. That’s what we callin’ it now?”

Pearline cuts her eyes at her friend. “I will put you out this car, Anissa Marie Landry. Don’t play with me.”

Annie gasps dramatically. “Not my full name.”

Pearline keeps driving. “Then act right.”

Annie laughs again, lighter than she has in days. Her chest feels warm.

Until it doesn’t.

Because the second Pearline turns into the apartment complex, nervousness starts crawling slowly back into Annie’s stomach.

The buildings look different now.

Smaller than they used to.

When they were teenagers, this place felt enormous. Endless stairs. Endless summers. Music bouncing between buildings while somebody grilled too late into the night. Kids running through parking lots. People yelling out windows for cousins and brothers and friends.

Now Annie sees cracked pavement. Faded paint near the railings. Rust beginning to gather around old fixtures.

Time.

That’s what she notices most.

Time sitting quietly over everything.

Still—the place carries the same energy underneath it. Familiar voices drifting through open windows. The smell of somebody frying food nearby. Bass thumping faint through apartment walls.

Her chest tightens.

Because part of her still remembers exactly who she used to be here.

The afternoon air hangs heavy over everything.

“You good?” Pearline asks quietly this time.

Annie exhales once. “Yeah.”

Lie.

Again.

Pearline parks crooked beside Stack’s truck.

Before Annie can even fully unbuckle her seatbelt, the apartment door swings open.

And there he is.

Stack comes down the stairs two at a time in basketball shorts and a white tank, chains bouncing against his chest, grin already spreading wide enough to split his face apart.

“ANNIE!”

Annie barely gets out the car before his arms wrap around her hard enough to lift her halfway off the ground.

“Oh my God,” she laughs breathlessly.

“Nah.” Stack squeezes her tighter. “Nah, let me look at you.”

He holds her at arm’s length for half a second before pulling her right back in again.

And that—that almost breaks her.

Because suddenly she’s seventeen again. Summer air. Loud music. Sneaking into kitchens late at night. The twins arguing somewhere nearby. Her laughter mixed into theirs.

Family.

That’s what this used to feel like.

Her eyes burn fast enough she has to blink hard before Stack notices.

But of course he notices anyway.

His expression softens immediately. “Damn,” he murmurs quieter now. “You really here.”

Annie swallows hard before nodding once. “I’m here.”

Stack studies her face another second before looking genuinely offended. “Why you ain’t come back sooner?”

Pearline snorts loudly. “Oh brother.”

“I’m serious.”

“You dramatic,” Pearline mutters, grabbing grocery bags from the backseat.

“I missed my friend.”

The sincerity in it pulls something deep in Annie’s chest.

She laughs softly through it anyway. “You still talk too much.”

“And you still love me.”

That part slips out easy.

Natural.

And Annie realizes with frightening clarity that maybe she never stopped loving any of this.

The apartment smells familiar the second Annie walks in.

Food. Cologne. Candles burned low enough to leave sweetness hanging in the air. A faint trace of weed settled deep into the couch and walls beneath everything else.

But the apartment itself catches her off guard.

Stack always cared about presentation even when they were teenagers. Matching shoes before anybody else had them. Jewelry bought with money he absolutely should’ve saved. Wanting everything around him to feel good, look good, sound expensive.

Now it’s grown into something else entirely.

Dark wood against black finishes. Low amber lighting instead of harsh overheads. Framed vinyl covers lining one wall beside abstract prints Annie knows cost too much. A massive television mounted above a fireplace that probably never gets used.

The place is clean too.

Not spotless. Lived in.

A hoodie tossed over the arm of the couch. Expensive sneakers lined neatly near the door. Half-empty tequila bottles sitting beside a speaker humming low music through the apartment.

Annie turns slowly once, taking it all in.

“Well damn,” she murmurs.

Stack grins immediately. “I got money now, baby.”

Pearline snorts from behind them. “Please. Half this shit financed.”

“Why you always pocket watchin’?”

“Cause somebody gotta stay responsible.”

Annie laughs softly under her breath while Stack points dramatically toward the kitchen.

“See? She get me.”

Pearline rolls her eyes, already making herself comfortable in the kitchen. “You lying already,”

“You love me.”

“Unfortunately.” 

The conversation flows easy after that.

Too easy.

Stack talks almost the entire time, moving around the apartment while Annie trails behind him and Pearline starts pulling bottled water from the fridge.

“So boom,” Stack says, pointing between them while Annie settles onto one of the barstools near the kitchen island. “Who all comin’ tomorrow?”

“Half the damn town apparently,” Pearline mutters.

“That mean food need to be serious then.”

“It is serious,” Pearline replies. “My uncle bringing ribs, my mama doing greens—”

“Who makin’ the Mac & Cheese?”

Pearline points immediately. “Me.”

Stack makes a face. “Aight so we orderin’ it from somewhere else.”

Pearline gasps loud enough to echo through the apartment.

Annie folds forward laughing while Stack ducks away from the kitchen towel Pearline throws at his head.

“I’m serious!” he argues. “Last Thanksgiving your macaroni was fighting for its life.”

“You ate THREE plates.”

“Cause I support Black women.”

“Elias!”

Annie laughs harder hearing Pearline use his full name again.

And for a while—it feels easy being here. Easy sitting in the middle of people who still know every version of her.

The music hums low through the apartment. Pearline and Stack argue about liquor for tomorrow’s cookout while Annie scrolls through the grocery list again pretending she’s listening better than she actually is.

Get somethin’ dark too,” Stack says. “You know Smoke bougie with liquor now.”

Annie stills at Smoke’s name before forcing herself forward again. Pearline notices, but before either of them can say anything—the front door opens.

“Stack, you got my—”

Smoke stops. The entire room changes.

Annie looks up before she can prepare herself.

There he is.

Closer than memory allowed.

Her stomach drops so hard it almost hurts. Everything inside her goes painfully still.

Smoke stares at her from the doorway.

Complete silence settles over the apartment.

Even Stack shuts up.

Because Elijah Moore looks at Annie the way people look at ghosts they never stopped loving.

His keys hang loose in his hand. His chest rises once.

Twice.

Slow.

Disbelief flashes first. Then recognition. Then something…deeper.  Something that spreads across his face before he can hide it.

Annie can’t breathe right suddenly. Because this—this is worse than the phone call. Worse than the memories.

Because now she can see it.

Every single thing he tried to bury after hearing her voice is written all over his face.

And judging by the way Smoke keeps staring at her—he sees the same thing reflected back at him.

The apartment goes completely still.

Smoke stands near the door with one hand still wrapped around his keys, the other holding it halfway open behind him. For a second he doesn’t move at all. Doesn’t blink either.

Neither does Annie.

The music still hums low through the speakers somewhere behind them. Pearline is saying something from the kitchen. Stack’s television flickers silently in the background. The entire room keeps existing around them while something inside both of them completely locks up.

Annie’s pulse turns violent.

Because up close is worse.

So much worse.

The phone call didn’t prepare her for this. Memory didn’t prepare her for this. Nothing could’ve prepared her for the reality of Elijah Moore standing ten feet away looking at her like somebody knocked the air clean out his chest.

He looks older in ways that matter.

Harder around the edges. More filled out through the chest and shoulders. Tattoos that disappear beneath the sleeves of his shirt and climb slowly along his forearms when he moves. A watch that sits heavy around his wrist. His beard trimmed low enough to sharpen his jaw instead of softening it. He looks settled into himself in a way that almost startles her.

His skin carried that same rich brown complexion she used to trace absentmindedly beneath porch lights and movie screens, smoother now somehow despite the years. His shoulders looked broader than she remembered, stretching the black t-shirt across his chest in a way that made him seem almost too large for the apartment kitchen. His hands looked the same though. Big. Veined. Familiar enough to make her stomach twist.

Then his eyes found hers fully. Still quiet-looking. Still unreadable at first glance. But his eyes—

God.

Those same dark heavy-lidded eyes that always seemed half a thought away from saying something dangerous if she stared too long.

Man.

That’s the first thought that moves through her head.

Not boy. Not memory…. Man.

He’s still beautiful.

The realization arrives ugly and immediate.

Smoke finally shuts the apartment door behind him carefully. Too carefully. Like his body suddenly became something he has to consciously control.

His eyes never leave her face.

Annie tries to stand. Or speak. Or breathe normally. None of it comes easy, because the look on his face keeps undoing her in real time.

Shock came first. Then recognition.

But this—this part now? This feels almost worse, because the longer he looks at her, the less guarded he becomes. Like seeing her cracked something open before he could stop it.

Stack looks between them once.

Twice.

And finally: “Oh.”

The realization crosses his face hard enough that even Pearline catches it from the kitchen doorway.

Right. 

The phone call. The silence after. Everything unsaid sitting underneath all of it.

Stack clears his throat loud enough to crack the silence slightly. “Well,” he mutters awkwardly, looking between them. “This tense as hell.”

Nobody laughs.

Smoke’s gaze flicks toward his brother briefly before landing right back on Annie.

“Hey,” he says.

Quiet.

Low.

The single word moves through her chest with frightening force. His voice still does that to her.

Annie opens her mouth. Nothing comes out.

Her throat tightens immediately, embarrassment following right behind it.

Annie clears her throat softly and tries again. “Hey.” The word comes quieter than she intended.

Smoke’s jaw tightens faintly at the sound of it.

Stack steps fully into the tension now, talking faster than usual. “Aight well—” he claps his hands once. “Look at everybody bein’ grown and reunited and shit.”

Pearline cuts her eyes toward him immediately.

Too much.

Too obvious.

Stack catches it half a second late.

“Not—” he corrects quickly. “Not reunited-reunited. Y’all know what I mean.”

Annie looks down instantly, fingers tightening around the edge of the kitchen island.

Smoke drags a hand slowly across his beard.

Nobody knows where to put themselves.

The apartment suddenly feels too warm.

Too small.

Too aware.

Smoke finally moves farther into the room after what feels like forever, but even then he keeps distance between them. A careful amount. Deliberate enough that Annie notices immediately.

That hurts too, because she remembers when Elijah used to close distance without thinking: A hand at her waist passing through rooms. Knees touching beneath tables. Pulling her between his legs while he sat on couches. Small things. Constant things.

Now he looks at her like getting too close might physically damage both of them.

Stack keeps talking. Something about the cookout. Liquor. Ice. Music. The words barely register. Annie becomes hyperaware of everything instead: Smoke setting his keys down near the counter. The faint scent of his cologne mixing into the apartment air. The way his fingers flex once against the marble countertop before flattening still.

As for Smoke—he notices everything too.

The long braids falling over Annie’s shoulder. Tiny gold hoops catching the kitchen light every time she turned her head. Deep brown skin glowing warm beneath the apartment lights, smooth enough to pull memory straight to the surface before Smoke could stop it. Big doe eyes lifting toward him for half a second before dropping away again, the same eyes that used to undo him at seventeen just by looking too long. The fitted shirt clinging softly to the full weight of her breasts, familiar enough to make something low in his stomach tightens. Bare legs beneath her shorts he remembered wrapped around his waist years ago. Gloss shining softly across full lips he used to kiss until neither of them could breathe straight.

His chest pulls tight enough to irritate him. None of this should still be happening.

Not after eight years.

Not after silence.

Not after hearing another nigga laugh in the background during one of their last phone calls before everything fell apart.

But standing here now? His body remembers her immediately.

Dangerously fast.

Pearline watches Annie carefully from across the kitchen. The tension rolling off her friend is almost visible. And suddenly Pearline understands something she really wishes she didn’t. Neither of them got over this.

Not even close.

Against her better judgment, her mind flashes briefly back to the restaurant. Jada beside Smoke. Close enough to matter. Her stomach twists, because Annie doesn’t know.

And judging by the way Annie keeps looking at Smoke now, soft despite herself, hurt despite herself, Pearline suddenly realizes finding the right moment to tell her is about to become a nightmare.

Stack keeps trying to fill the silence.

“Anyway,” he says loudly, grabbing water bottles from the fridge nobody asked for. “Tomorrow gon’ be cool. Everybody been askin’ about you, Annie.”

Smoke finally speaks again.

“When you get in?”

Simple question.

Still enough to pull every eye back toward him.

Annie looks up slowly. “Yesterday.”

Smoke nods once.

Yesterday.

Something unreadable crosses his face at that. Brief. Sharp. As if he’s quietly replaying the last twenty-four hours in his head trying to understand how she could’ve already been this close without him knowing.

Or did he?

“Yeah,” Stack jumps back in quickly. “Pearline picked her up from the airport.”

Smoke’s eyes flick briefly toward Pearline.

And immediately, she understands the look for exactly what it is.

You knew she was here.

You ain’t say shit?

Pearline leans back against the counter slightly, expression smooth.

She doesn’t apologize for it either.

Smoke holds her gaze another second before looking back at Annie.

“You stayin’ long?”

There it is.

The real question underneath the question.

Annie hears it immediately.

So does Pearline.

So does Stack.

How long do I have to survive this?

“I took a week off,” she says carefully. “After that…I don’t know yet.”

Smoke goes still again.

Somehow—that answer feels far too big for the room.

Stack twists the cap off a water bottle and tosses another one toward Smoke.

Smoke catches it automatically without looking away from Annie.

That somehow makes everything worse.

The movement is so familiar. So easy. Like his body still knows how to do things around her without thought involved. Annie watches his fingers close around the bottle and immediately hates herself for noticing something that small.

Stack keeps talking anyway, voice carrying too loud through the apartment now.

“So boom,” he says, forcing energy back into the room. “We still need charcoal, ice, liquor, and somebody gotta go pick up the meat tomorrow morning.”

“I already told you my uncle handling the meat,” Pearline says carefully, eyes flicking toward Annie again.

“Yeah, but your uncle also drink while he grill.”

“That’s seasoning.”

“It’s alcoholism.”

Pearline rolls her eyes hard enough to almost make Annie laugh again.

Almost.

Smoke finally looks away first, lowering his gaze to the bottle in his hand while twisting the cap loose. Annie exhales quietly before she can stop herself.

Pearline catches that too.

Of course she does.

“Anyway,” Stack says, talking faster now like he can force the room back to normal if he keeps moving. “Tomorrow still at Aunt Cheryl house, right?”

Pearline nods once. “Around four.”

Stack points toward Smoke. “You still bringing the speakers?”

Smoke opens his mouth automatically.

Then stops.

Because suddenly the cookout rearranges itself completely in his head.

Not random people.

Not some regular Saturday.

Annie.

Everybody gathering because Annie came home.

His jaw tightens faintly.

“…yeah,” he says finally.

But the answer sounds slower now.

Careful.

Like he’s realizing too many things at once.

Pearline watches the realization move across his face in real time.

And for one brief second—she remembers Jada sitting beside him in that restaurant booth.

Her stomach twists again immediately.

Stack nods too fast. “Bet, bet.”

Silence threatens again immediately after.

Everybody feels it.

Smoke leans back lightly against the counter near the door, keeping distance between himself and Annie even though the apartment suddenly feels too small for distance to matter. His eyes lift toward her again before dropping almost instantly this time.

Too late.

She catches it anyway.

The room presses tighter around her ribs, every glance from him feels unfinished. Like he keeps almost saying something.

Annie reaches for the water bottle nearest her mostly to give her hands something to do. Her fingers brush the cap once before another hand reaches past her shoulder at the exact same time.

Everything in her body locks.

Smoke stops too.

His arm stretches beside hers, close enough that she catches the warmth coming off his skin instantly. Cologne folds around her again, clean and dark and painfully familiar.

Nobody moves.

Not Stack.

Not Pearline.

Not Annie.

Smoke’s fingers hover near the bottle beside hers before slowly pulling back first.

“My bad,” he says quietly.

The apology wrecks her a little because Elijah never used to stop himself with her. Now even almost touching her seems to make him careful.

Annie swallows hard. “You good.” Her voice comes out softer than she meant it to.

Smoke’s jaw tightens faintly.

Stack looks between both of them so fast it almost gives him whiplash.

Pearline grabs her own drink immediately, clearly resisting the urge to intervene physically.

The silence stretches again.

Then Stack blurts, “So Annie apparently think my apartment ugly.”

Annie’s head snaps toward him instantly. “I never said that!”

“You implied it.”

“I literally did not.”

“You looked around judgmental as fuck.”

“I was impressed!”

Stack points dramatically. “AHA.”

For the first time since walking through the door, something close to amusement flickers briefly across Smoke’s face. Tiny. Gone almost immediately.

Annie catches it though and somehow that hurts too. She remembers how easily she used to make him smile. The memory moves through her chest before she can brace for it.

Stack keeps rambling. “See? That’s why Smoke the favorite. He don’t judge me.”

Smoke takes a sip from the bottle finally. “Your apartment nice.”

Stack looks vindicated instantly. “THANK you.”

“It still smell like weed though.”

Pearline barks out a laugh.

Stack points at Smoke in betrayal. “See now you switched sides.”

“Never had a side.”

“That’s cold.”

The room loosens slightly after that. Barely. Enough for breathing to return in pieces. Annie finally risks another look toward Smoke. Big mistake. He’s already looking at her again. Not even trying to hide it this time. Something deep and uncertain twists low in her stomach.

He looks overwhelmed. That’s the worst part. Not angry. Not detached.

Overwhelmed.

Like seeing her in person dismantled whatever version of this reunion he prepared himself for.

Stack clears his throat again, softer this time. “So…” He looks between both of them carefully now. “Tomorrow probably gon’ be a lot.”

Pearline cuts her eyes toward him immediately. Too direct. But Smoke answers anyway, gaze still resting on Annie.

“I’ll be aight.”

Annie’s breath catches slightly because the words don’t feel aimed at Stack at all. They feel aimed at her.

Or maybe himself.

Pearline notices that too and suddenly decides she’s had enough emotional Russian roulette for one afternoon.

“Aight, me and Annie bout to go,” she says abruptly, pushing off the counter. “We still gotta hit the store before all the good liquor gone.”

Stack blinks. “Right now?”

“Yes, right now.”

“We still got time—”

“No we don’t.” The look Pearline gives him shuts him up immediately.

Annie sets her bottle down carefully, pulse still uneven beneath her skin.

Smoke straightens from the counter the second she moves.

Automatic. Instinctive. Like some part of him is still tuned to her body whether he wants it to be or not. That realization moves visibly through both of them at the exact same time.

Dangerous.

Stack notices. Finally fully notices. And judging by the expression crossing his face now, the three-way phone call did not prepare him for how bad this actually is.

Smoke grabs his keys from the counter slowly. “I was finna head out anyway.”

Something sinks inside Annie’s chest hearing that. Too fast. He just got here. The thought embarrasses her immediately.

Pearline reaches for her purse. Stack starts talking again. Everybody moving at once now. Too much motion all of a sudden after standing emotionally exposed for nearly twenty minutes.

Smoke reaches the door first.

Then pauses.

Annie feels it before she even looks up.

When she finally does, Smoke is already staring at her again.

Quieter now.

Less shocked.

Worse somehow.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he says.

Not y’all.

You.

The word settles low and heavy between them. Annie’s throat tightens immediately. “Yeah,” she answers smiling slightly. “Tomorrow.”

Smoke holds her gaze one second longer.

Then leaves.

The apartment feels smaller the second he’s gone.

Stack starts talking immediately, trying to fill the silence like he always does. “Man, y’all some awkward-ass people. I should’ve charged admission for that.”

Pearline shoots him a look but says nothing, her eyes staying on Annie.

Annie doesn’t hear either of them.

Because Smoke’s cologne is still in the room.

That warm, woody scent with the faint edge of something clean, the same one he’s worn since he was a teen. It lingers in the air like it’s clinging to her. Like his absence is taking up more space than his presence did.

Her chest tightens.

And just like that, she’s yanked backward.

Flashback

The motel room was dim except for the cheap lamp buzzing softly on the nightstand. Late July heat pressed against the window even with the AC rattling hard beneath it. The air smelled faintly of bleach, warm skin, and the fast food Stack dropped off earlier before disappearing with a grin and his keys.

The sheets tangled around their legs, damp with sweat and the kind of closeness neither of them wanted to leave yet. 

Annie lay on her side facing him, one leg thrown over Smoke’s hip. Her bare breasts pressed against his chest as his hand traced slow, absent circles along the curve of her spine. His other arm was tucked under her head like a pillow. Their skin stuck together wherever they touched, but neither of them moved away.

His heartbeat was steady under her palm.

She traced the small scar just below his collarbone with her fingertip, the one he got when he was fifteen trying to jump a barbed wire fence. She’d heard that story at least ten times, but she never got tired of touching it.

“You really think we can do this?” she whispered.

Smoke’s hand paused on her back, then continued its slow path down to the dip above her ass and back up again. His voice was low, rough from everything they’d just done and the hours of talking after.

“Yeah,” he said without hesitation. “I do.”

Annie lifted her head to look at him. His eyes were half-lidded, heavy with satisfaction and sleep, but still clear. Certain. That was what always undid her, how sure he could sound about things that terrified her.

“I’m gonna be so far away,” she said quietly. “And you gonna be here grindin’. What if—”

“We make it work.” He pulled her closer slowly. “You still gon’ be you. I’m still gon’ be me.”

She searched his face, looking for cracks. She found none.

“You say that now…”

“I’m sayin’ it ‘cause I mean it.” His hand slid up to cup the back of her neck, thumb brushing just behind her ear in that way that always made her melt. “I love you. That don’t change just ‘cause you movin’. You still mine when you come back.”

He rolled them gently so she was underneath him again, his weight comforting, grounding. He kissed her slower this time, her forehead, her cheek, and the corner of her mouth before settling beside her once more, pulling her into his chest. One of his legs slid between hers. Their bodies fit together like they’d been doing it forever.

For a while, neither of them spoke.

Just breathing. Skin on skin. The low hum of the AC and the occasional car passing outside.

In the quiet, Annie felt the fear anyway. Small. Sharp. What if distance changed things slowly instead of all at once? What if somebody else learned the shape of him while she was gone? What if coming home stopped feeling easy one day?

She pressed closer before the thoughts could settle too deep.

Smoke’s hand kept moving along her back in that same slow rhythm, as if he could hold them together through touch alone. His lips brushed the top of her head.

“We got this,” he murmured, voice heavy with sleep. “You and me.”

Annie closed her eyes and believed him.

Completely.

Back to Present

The memory released her as suddenly as it had pulled her in.

Annie blinked, eyes stinging. The apartment smelled like fresh cologne and old heartbreak. Stack was still talking. Pearline was watching her too closely.

She forced a small smile and nodded at something she hadn’t actually heard, but her chest felt raw.

Because eight years ago, in that cheap ass motel room, they had been so sure.

And now here they were, speaking carefully around a love that never really left either of them.

The apartment door closes behind them with a soft click.

For a second, neither Annie nor Pearline moves.

Then Pearline reaches for her keys while Annie starts down the stairs slowly beside her, one hand sliding along the warm metal railing.

The evening air feels heavier now.

Closer.

Their footsteps echo softly against the concrete while music drifts faintly through the apartment complex from nearby. Laughter echoes in the distance. A dog barking a few doors down.

Life keeps moving.

Meanwhile Annie feels like her entire world tilted sideways upstairs.

Pearline watches her carefully while they make their way down another flight. Annie looks dazed. Not in a dramatic way. A quiet one. Like she walked into that apartment expecting memory and accidentally found something alive instead.

“He looked at me the same.”

The words land low between them. Pearline’s chest tightens instantly, because Annie sounds almost confused by it. As if some part of her expected eight years to erase everything she saw written across that man’s face tonight.

Pearline leans lightly against the car door. “Girl…”

“I know,” Annie says quickly, already embarrassed. “I know how it sounds.”

“No,” Pearline says softly. “I don’t think you do.”

Annie looks away toward the apartment building again. Toward the floor Smoke walked out of minutes earlier. “He looked like…” She swallows. “I don’t know.”

Pearline watches her carefully.

Annie’s voice drops quieter. “…I still matter.”

Lord.

Pearline exhales slowly through her nose. Now she’s thinking about Jada again. That restaurant booth. Smoke leaning close. Jada smiling at him across the table, and suddenly the timing of all this feels dangerous as hell.

Annie finally climbs into the passenger seat.

Pearline opens the driver’s siide door, but stays outside. “I forgot my charger upstairs,” she lies smoothly.

Annie blinks. “Your charger right here.”

“It’s another one.”

Annie narrows her eyes slightly but doesn’t argue. “Okay…”

“I’ll be right back.”

Pearline shuts the door before Annie can question it further and heads back toward the building. By the time Stack opens the apartment door again, he already looks suspicious.

“You forgot somethin’?” he asks immediately.

Pearline walks past him into the apartment. “Please tell me yo’ brother got enough sense not to bring Jada’s pick me ass tomorrow.”

Stack’s entire face changes.

“…huh.”

Pearline turns toward him fully now, arms crossing tight. “I saw them at the restaurant yesterday.”

“Aw shit.”

“Exactly.”

Stack drags a hand over his mouth immediately. “Did Annie see?”

“No. Thank God.”

He exhales hard enough to puff his cheeks. “Okay. Okay.”

Pearline stares at him. “Why you sayin’ it like that?”

“‘Cause if Annie saw Smoke sittin’ up with Jada after the way them two was just lookin’ at each other up in here?” He shakes his head immediately. “Shiiit.”

Pearline walks farther into the apartment, agitation building again now that Annie isn’t standing in front of her. “I thought he was just fuckin’ her. I ain’t know they was out in public-public.”

“They not together,” Stack says quickly.

Pearline lifts an eyebrow. “You sure?”

“I mean…” Stack hesitates. “As far as I know.”

“That don’t make me feel better.”

Stack sighs, leaning back against the kitchen counter. “Smoke ain’t been serious about nobody since Annie.”

The apartment quiets a little after that.

Pearline looks toward the front door unconsciously, like Smoke or Annie might walk back in if she says their names too loud.

“She still love him,” she says finally.

Stack laughs once under his breath. Not because it’s funny, but it’s obvious. “Yeah,” he murmurs. “That man still love her too.”

Pearline presses her lips together.

“Then tomorrow finna be a mess.”

“Nah.” Stack shakes his head slowly. “Smoke got sense.”

Pearline snorts. “That’s debatable.”

Stack points toward her immediately. “Aight now. Don’t do my brother.”

“I’m serious.” Pearline steps closer again. “Please tell him don’t bring Jada tomorrow. Annie already nervous enough.”

Stack studies her face. “Y’all still on that high school shit?”

Pearline gives him a look. “Please. You remember how Jada used to act over your brother.”

Stack snorts softly. “Smoke ain’t even realize half that shit.”

Pearline folds her arms tighter. “Annie had that nigga nose so wide open, a girl could throw herself directly at him and he’d still miss the point.”

“That’s true.”

“Meanwhile Annie used to notice EVERYTHING.”

Stack studies her face for a while longer before nodding once.

“He won’t bring her.”

“You sound real confident.”

“After the way he looked at Annie tonight?” Stack shakes his head slowly. “Trust me. Jada the last thing on that nigga mind right now.”

Pearline’s stomach twists because deep down? She believes him. The realization softens her face before she can stop it.

Stack notices immediately. His voice drops lower. “You still mad at me?”

Pearline rolls her eyes instantly. “Boy.”

“I’m serious.”

“You always serious after you get caught.”

“That’s not true.”

“It absolutely is.”

Stack steps closer anyway. 

Too close.

Pearline hates that her body notices immediately. Hates that he smells good. Hates that she wants to lean into him before he even touches her.

His hand settles lightly against her waist.

Familiar.

Warm.

“You was worried about Annie this whole time,” he murmurs. “Meanwhile you over here stressin’ yoself out too.”

Pearline sucks her teeth softly. “You think you know everythin’.”

“I know you.”

Fuck.

Pearline looks up at him.

Big Mistake.

He’s looking at her the same dangerous way he used to before they ended up tangled together somewhere making terrible decisions.

Stack’s thumb brushes once against her side.

Slow.

Pearline exhales carefully.

“See,” he murmurs. “Now you lookin’ at me all soft again.”

“Elias…”

“There she go.”

He smiles slightly when she says his full name.

Pearline hates that too.

For a second neither of them moves.

Then Pearline shoves lightly against his chest and steps back before her own hormones embarrass her. 

“Bye, boy.”

Stack laughs immediately. “That push ain’t even got no strength behind it.”

“Goodbye!”

She heads toward the door fast enough to make him laugh harder behind her. But right before she leaves, 

Stack calls after her again. “Seriously though.”

Pearline pauses.

Stack’s expression softens slightly. “Everything gon’ work out how it’s supposed to.”

Pearline studies him for a minute. Then snorts softly. “That sound nice.”

“It’s true.”

She opens the door. “Tell your brother not to piss me off tomorrow.”

End Note: Get ready for the mess y'all! 🫣

Tag List:

Today was the day you drop off your three year-old son, Amari, at Stack's Place for the weekend. It was 3 pm on a Friday afternoon, and as you packed his bags, the reality of the destination left a sour taste in your mouth. You now and then still caught yourself wishing it was your house too- just like how it use to be.

You and Stack were engaged, happily. Once.

You often found yourself thinking of the life you once shared with Stack, When you were engaged and living together with your newborn Amari. Stack's work began to take up more room than his presence which was needed. He was physically there, at home, coming home every night, busy finishing his projects and his availability, emotionally or rather emotional intimacy started drifting.

You and Stack's engagement didn't work out and that was ok, not really ok at first but you two managed, there was peace in the aftermath of your breakup. No heated arguments or lingering bitterness, you don't think you could ever truly hate him, instead there was a mutual understanding and respect that was a healthy way to raise your son. Your pride and joy, your three year old son Amari. You love him to bits and pieces. You love Amari with everything in your being, and as a mother to see him grow was such a beautiful thing.

Co- parenting was definitely an adjustment but it was going well. The drop-offs, the weekend pick-ups and the flow of communication it didn't feel like you were just going through the motions, but the communication, you guys were a team working together to raise your son. everything moved smoothly between you two .

You often found yourself thinking of the life you once shared with Stack, When you were engaged and living together with your newborn son, Amari. Stack's work began to take up more room than his presence which was needed. He was physically there, at home, coming home every night, busy finishing his projects and his availability, emotionally or rather emotional intimacy started drifting.

He was present, he was a true provider, but he started burying himself in the "grind", in his work and became less present as a partner and sometimes a father. You always told him money wasn't everything but he always gave you and Amari everything you two needed, which was great and you were beyond grateful but what you really wanted was him. That shift turned into a problem that made "forever" feel damn near impossible, leading you both to realize that you were better of apart for the time being, so you can take care of your son and work while Stack solely focused on work. But you never truly stopped loving him, you just focused on your son.

But today was the day you drop Amari off to Stack's house, the air was casual but charged. Jackson sat at the counter finishing a bowl of cereal as a little bit of milk was in the carton, he was becoming a more frequent guest in your home. You were clear with him and more importantly clear with yourself: this wasn't about building a future, this was about needs, sex to be exact. You were careful wrapping it up and on the pill. This was purely friends wit benefits no strings attached.

In the living room, sat on the carpet, was Amari in his own little world of imagination. You knelt beside him, packing his Lightning McQueen backpack, with some essentials, his favorite pajamas, a soft hoodie, and a couple of snacks and baggy of goldfish. Sometimes you act as if Amari won't get what he needs there, but oh, trust he will. Stack would spoil him the moment he walked through the door, but you always wanted to be prepared, and it never hurt.

You zip up his backpack and lay it on the couch. You straighten Amari's shirt, noticing a few stray crumbs on his cheeks and corner of his mouth from breakfast and you take your thumb gently wiping them away. He looked at you, holding his favorite Hess truck in his hand.

"Mama, we going to Daddy's house today?" he asked curiously.

You nod with a warm smile "Yes, baby, you're going to spend the weekend with Dad".

Lifting him into your arms, you carry him to the car, the Lighting McQueen backpack slung over your shoulder. You lift him into his car seat, and making sure you hear that click of the buckle making sure he's all safe and strapped in.

"All strapped in?" you ask checkin the tension of the harness in the car seat

Amari looked up with those big, soulful brown eyes. He nods as he holds his toy truck and flicks the light switch on the toy on "Yes, Mommy"

You gave him a light smile and pressed a lingering kiss to his forehead, closing the door. But as you turned to head toward the driver's side, you felt a pair of hands settle on your waist.

It was Jackson. His touch made you blink, pulling you back to him "Want me to come with?" he asked

"No, noo" you said quickly, your head shaking that idea away. You did not want that, that your life here and you co-parenting with Stack those lines, you never wanted those to intersect, you would try to hold it off for as long as you could at least.

"No it's fine I'll be back before you know it". you reassure him

He leaned in and gave you a light kiss on the cheek, Jackson got the hint and stepped back with a quiet sigh as you reached for the driver's door.

"Bye Mari" Jackson say tapping the window not to scare him.

Through the window, your son gave a weak wave and didn't look at him any longer as he looked at the truck in his hand, mind probably already on his father's house and all the fun things to do there.

You buckle up, the arrangement with Jackson was still fresh, a couple months old and you were always transparent. It was a "no strings attached" type of thing, something to fill in the quiet spaces that Stack had left behind. Truth be told even as bad as it sounds you knew Jackson wasn't Stack, he wasn't the man you had planned a life with, and he wasn't the father of your son.

You were very wary bringing him into your home. You hadn't been with anyone since the engagement ended and that was about a year and a half ago. You never wanted to confuse Amari, you were closed of with men for a while terrified of opening that door of men into his life Jackson was meant to be the separate of your life, only pleasure and needs, but you started to think maybe for Jackson the lines are blurring as he spent more time at the house.

You prayed that they didn't, you always told him what it was and what it wasn't.

He was a distraction and that was the truth.

Before you shift into gear, you turn back to Amari making sure he's strapped in, you reach over and check the tension of the straps, your eyes sweep to the right of him making sure his backpack his next to him and it is.

You pull out of the driveway, you tend to glance at Amari using the rear view mirror always making sure he's ok. Needless to say he is fine, matter fact he is happy as he is swinging his legs and his little velcro shoes in excitement. You began the familiar drive to the home you once shared with Stack, the place that still held ghosts of the family you three used to be. The early stage of that family life.

"Going to Daddy's house?!" Amari squealed, you can practically feel the excitement radiating off of him. You caught his eye int he rear view mirror and smiled at him, you couldn't help but smile at him, he is truly the cutest thing.

"Yes, baby. I'm dropping you off, and I'll be back to get you Sunday night"

Amari looked out the window, his legs slowly swinging now. "Mommy, why don't you stay with us dis time?? Pweeaseee? we play games together!"

You could hear the plead in his voice, his request pulls at your heart. "I don't know about that, my love. This your special time with your dad. I'll see you in a couple days, mommy doesn't wanna get in the way of you and daddy's time."

"But- want Mama and Daddy together" he insists, that pout forming on his lips. "uh mommy we can play! you be the princess, Daddy can be prince and I'll be the knight to save you!!"

"An a evil dragon!, ruined your castle, so I'll fight with my sword!" He puffs his chest out as far as the car straps would allow.

"I'll be like this mommy" he makes noises with his mouth as swings his arms together acting as if he has a sword.

"Is that so?" you chuckled.

"Mhmm, and Daddy is gonna carry you away from danger to protect you".

You smile lightly feeling a bit bittersweet. You turned on some soft music to fill in the silence, and make a turn at the familiar street, the silhouette of your old home came into view. Your heart sank as you pulled into the circular driveway. This house held so many memories, the smell of Sunday dinners, you both use to make, the laughter, the frantic night your water broke at the bottom of the staircase and screamed for Stack to hurry up, Stack practically flew down the stairs tripping over himself. It was the house you had been a fiancee and a new mom, a place where you tried to build a life with a man you love that was just to busy on the grind, not meeting where you needed.

You sigh shaking your head getting out of your thoughts, and to be honest you haven't been in that house since, only meeting at the door, it opens for you two briefly talk and go your separate ways.

Amari was already dancing in his seat and you took your keys out of the ignition. You stepped out, opening his door and unbuckling him, you grab this Lighting McQueen backpack over your shoulder. As soon as his feet hit the pavement, he made a ill dance. "Papa's house!, Mhmm mhmm mhmm!!"

You couldn't help but smile and you remind him "Have fun, okay? And be a good boy".

Amari stopped mid dance, and looking up at you " I will Mama. I love you"

Your heart warmed instantly, You press a firm kiss on his forehead "I love you more, baby".

You hold your handout and he takes it as you walk to the front door and knocked. It didn't take long for the door to creak open, revealing Stack's mother. Amari's face it up even more. "Mimi!" he shouted, letting go of your hand and making a rush forward and wrapping himself around her legs.

She beamed, as she crouched down and hugging him, one of those warm loving hugs, ones that you feel you can ust sleep in your grandmother's arms. He soon scurried inside to find his dad. You let out a sigh and look a her with a light smile "Hi Ms. Moore. I'm just here for the drop-off is Stack around?"

She stepped forward, pulling you into a warm familiar embrace. "Girl, stop acting all so shy, as if we ain't family."

"But—" you tried to protest feeling the sting of "what if's" in your gut.

"But nothing" she interrupted, her eyes with love and yet warning "you gave me a beautiful grandson. If Stack doesn't realize what he has, which he does, trust me he'll regret it for the rest of his life".

You swallow at her words, and look down a wave of complicated emotions hit you "Well… tell him i said hi, and this bag had some of Mari's favorite pajamas and some snacks he likes.."

Truth be told you haven't seen her in a long time and when that door opened you didn't know how she was gonna react, but she acted as if she had just seen you yesterday and no time has passed.

"I packed a couple things for Amari, some snacks he likes and light clothes, i know he has things here it's- just in case he wants these specific things." you finished, you realize this might've come off as rambling so you try to stop yourself.

Mama T place a hand on your forearm, her touch warm and familiar. "Come on in, sweetheart"

You shook your head with a light smile, stepping back some. "It's okay, really. I just came to drop him off and—"

She didn't say a word, she simply gave you that look-it's like a universal look that all mother gives that means shut up and do what she says, she wasn't asking she was telling. You sighed and stepped in. The house hit scents hit you first, the faint smell of cologne, Stack's cologne, the warmth of home-cooked food.

"Something smells good" you murmured, following the sound of Amari's giggles. You see Amari pulling on the sliding door that he's having trouble with.

In the backyard you could hear the muffled soulful sounds of Frankie Beverly's "Before I Let Go" playing from the speakers, the air was filled with that thick scent of hickory smoke and the steady rhythm of the music. Amari was grunting as he tugged at the sliding glass door.

"What are you tryna do, munchkin?" you asked, leaning over him.

"Daddy is out there! Eghh, wanna say hi!" he pouted bracing his little feet trying to tug again at the door handle with all his might.

A smile couldn't help but appear on your face"Okay, baby, step aside" You offered what seem like much needed help, giving the door a firm shove, releasing the warm breeze across your face. Standing there manning the grills were Stack and Smoke, hovering over the flames and laughing . Your heart hammered against your ribs.

Amari didn't even hesitate. He bolted across the grass, shouting, "Daddy! Uncle Smoke!"

"Uh oh, look who it is!" Smoke shouted with a grin making it sound like it was a royal announcement.

Stack set his tongs aside wiping his hands with the rag that laid on his shoulder, his signature sly smile creeping across his face as he scooped up Amari into the air, swinging him in a circle, while Amari giggled like there was no tomorrow.

Stack pressed a kiss to Amari's cheek, his voice dropping into an immediate warm and fatherly tone "How's my boy doing?"

"Daddy, stop! It tickles!" Amari kicked his legs against him, his laughter ringing out loud and infectious.

You couldn't help it, a small giggle escapes you. At the sound, Stack froze. His gaze snapped to yours, setting Amari down, as he is drinking your appearance in from head to toe. You see his jaw clench as he whispered a faint "Damn" to himself. You swallowed, but he moves away from the grill and towards you.

The closer he got, the smaller you felt. the world seemed to shrink to you. He smelled of smoked wood chips, the ones he must've been hovering over and— that familiar cologne—, the scent that use to make your head spin with need. You looked up at him, as you heart frantically hammers against your ribs.

"Hey" he said, his voice dropping into that smooth, low register that threaten to make your knees buckle. "How you been, Mamas? Amari hasn't been giving you too much trouble has he?"

The nickname hung in the air, feeling intimate, nostalgic, and truth be told, entirely wwaayyy too effective. You cleared your throat, your feet moving, shifting your weight nervously.

You blinked, forcing your eyes away from his and onto Amari. "Uh, good I've been good. Mari's good. And you?"

"I'm good" he replied, his eyes sparkling, his smile flashing just enough to show his grills. The way he was looking at you, sent a chill up your spine it was a look that felt like far more than just "co-parenting". The chemistry was living between you, bringing up memories you'd tried to bury. He seems a bit too close, making you take a tiny step back.

Amari watches you two, seeing how close you two are, he looked up with wide innocent eyes. "Are you gonna kiss Daddy like you kiss Jackson?"

The silence that followed Amari's lips after the mention of a name was deafening. Your heart stopped. You gasped trying to cover it with a cough but it was way too late. It was as if a record player had been scratched and the world stopped spinning.

You felt frozen in time. Stack posture shifted, his playful expression wiped clean from his face. His eyebrows furrowed, his tongue poking at the inside of his cheek as he ran it over his teeth—a tell tale sign or pure and simmering irritation. Smoke standing nearby, looked like he'd choked on his drink, his eyes darting between you see his tongue poke at his cheek and run over his teeth, acting as if he has some food stuck in teeth, there was no food only pure irritation.

Smoke nearly choked on his drink, his eyes darting between the three of you.

Smoke's gaze never left as he analyzed the three of you. First his eyes hit you, the stiffness in your stance, the breath you were seamless holding. His eyes quickly went to Stack's he sees his eyes glaring at you, the silence and now shallow breathes Elias was taking and Amari innocent eyes and wide smile.

"C'mon, little trouble" Smoke quickly intervened, sensing the tension and pressure rising to a breaking point. He scooped Amari over his shoulder. "Let's see what Mimi is doin' in the kitchen. She probably making cookies! Let's head inside, food's almost ready!.

The mention of Jackson's name and the smell of food all around you suddenly make you nauseous.

Amari laughed as Smoke carried him off. Leaving you and Stack standing there. The yard was quiet. It was heavy. You turned to leave, the words flowing from you quickly, in a panicked rush. "Ishouldgo,ionlycametodrophimoff—"

"Who's Jackson?" Stacks voice cut through the tension like a blade. "You kissing some man in front of 'Mari?"

You fumbled with your bracelet, unable to meet his eyes under his heated gaze.

"It's nothing, Stack. It's none of your business"

You tried to down play it, you really did, but you knew how he was. You knew he wasn't gonna let it go, no, no, not wasn't— couldn't.

"None of my business?" he stepped closer, his posture stiff and his breathing shallow. You looked at him for a moment and he looked vulnerable for a split second before the anger masked it.

"Stack-" you tried to say.

Before Stack's lips could fire something quick, the sliding door creaked open. Mama T stood there, her expression soft but knowing. "Honey, would you like to stay for some dinner? I made some of that good cornbread you like?"

No,no, no ,no ,no ffuucckkkk no, you thought, but before you could politely decline. Amari's voice coming from the living room as you hear his little feet padded over closer to you. Until his body hits your legs and his little arms wrap around you . "Please, Mama! Stay!

You see him as he looks up at you with his puppy-dog eyes and his plump, pouting lips, pouting as he jumps, how could you say no to that? You watch Amari's hopeful expression, even after the exchange between you and Stack, the word "no" wasn't finding it's way on your lips.

You sighed "Okay…I'll stay for a little bit"

Inside, the air was tight but clam. You decided to busy yourself and help Mama T set the table, handing her glasses while Smoke brought in trays of food. The spread was a feast that included ribs, brisket, mac and cheese, greens, salad and honey cornbread. You sat across from Stack while Amari perched in his seat next to you.

Mama T then led grace and the clinking of silverware is what you hear. You lean over taking Amari's plate fixing his plate for him, making sure he has veggies on his plate. Across the table, the heat of Stack's eyes hasn't left. They were locked onto yours, his eyebrows looked furrowed as if he had heavy questions that he hadn't asked or hadn't finished asking.

Only for a while the house noise faded and in the air lingered a name that you never wanted in this house, or anywhere around Stack's ears. Jackson's name now sat in the air like an uninvited guest at the table.

"So.. Jackson hm? Amari you like him?" Stack asks as he watches his son eat with some barbecue sauce splayed on his mouth.

Amari shifted in his seat looking at you and then Stack, shrugging his shoulders.

"Stack enough" you say looking up at him, you do not want Amari involved even if he did unkowningly, open the can of worms.

Stack barely touched his food. He just sat there, his framed hunched over a bit and his eyes burning into you, while you cut a piece of meat for Amari.

"So.." his voice rumbled lowly, vibrating around the table. "Jackson, that's his name? Mari seems real comfortable with him."

Your grip tightens on the fork. You didn't even look up at him "Stack, please. just eat your food."

"I ain't that hungry no more", he replied now leaning forward. " I'm tryna figure out who this man is you kissing in front of Amari" the cocky smirk was no longer smeared on his face but something deeper, something raw underneath. His voice cracked just a bit. "I'm just trying figure out when I became second to my son to some man I ain't never heard of. You really got him in your house like that? Around Amari?"

You see it in his eyes the vulnerability it caught you off for a bit. It wasn't only anger, he looks like he's missed out on a chapter in his own life and now someone is in your house. You looked at him, you hurt for him. "Stack, I truly don't think this is the time, please just let it go"

"Let it go? I can't just let this—"

"Elias, enough" Mama T said, her voice was still soft but her voice carried like a gavel with finality to it. She didn't look at anything from her plate as she put butter on her cornbread. "The boy is right there, we are having dinner and he don't need to hearing any of this".

Stack's jaw ticked, his tongue poking at his cheek again and he remained silent.

Smoke just watched as he was chewing on the smoked rib.

As dinner continued Amari began to yawn and his head began bobbing a bit, he was fighting his sleep, his eye looking droopy.

As dinner continued it was all cordial, Smoke and Mama T sending looks to each other but not saying anything. Stack barely ate the food that was on his plate, his gaze drifted from his plate to you, and then to Amari, his jaw tight the entire time.

Finally dinner was over and you immediately got up grabbing your own plate and Amari's, Mama T joins and the familiar rhythm of scrapping food and rinsing dishes, took your mind off of things.

Meanwhile in the living room, there Stack and Amari sat on the couch as he rushed to give his dad the remote. Amari's feet padded to the arm chair grabbing a fuzzy blanket from the couch, insisting on watching a movie with him.

"Daddy, sit! Watch cars please!" Amari commanded.

Stack didn't argue. He sat down next to his son, arms relaxing on the back of the couch. He could tell Amari wasn't gonna be up for long, the way his little body relaxed into his arms and it seems like his eyes got heavy once the movie started playing, looks like all the excitement throughout the day caught up with Amari's body.

In the kitchen, you watched them both through the doorway as Amari's head laid against Stack's chest.

Stack adjusted him instinctively, his large hand splaying across the boy’s back, holding him with a protective gentleness that made your chest ache. It was a mirror image of three years ago—Stack rocking a colicky infant in the middle of the night in this very house.

You turned away, blinking back the nostalgia, and grabbed your purse and keys from the counter. It was Stack’s weekend, and you needed to leave before the memories pulled you under.

You watched as, Stack rose from the couch, moving with careful precision so he did not wake the sleeping boy in his arms, rocking him softly.

Amari whimpered in Stack's hold cuddling into his shoulder. Maybe you have always known but this place would always be a home to you, Jackson maybe at your house, but your heart resided in this home with your two boys.

Just the way Stack was rocking Amari brought you back to how it use to be, when Amari was only a couple months old even a year. Stack would always rock Mari as he would hum and give a lullaby, no matter in the dining room or anywhere, Amari had trouble sleeping when he was a baby but he always eased when he was in Stack's arms. As if Stack was all he needed to be at peace and rest.

Seeing Stack have Amari sleep in his arms again just brought that back.

You hug Mama T as she makes way with a to-go plate of her own. She then kisses Stack's forehead and Amari's, Smoke putting a hand on Stack's shoulder and just a nod for them was a whole conversation.

"Alright, I'm gonna head out. Good seein you, Sis" he said pulling you into a brief warm hug.

He made his way to the couch dapping Stack up "Talk to her, and be easy".

As Mama T and Smoke both take their leave, it's almost like your cue to head out as well.

As you too were going to head for the door, Stack rose from the couch, moving carefully so he did not wake Amari who was now fully asleep in his arms.

"Wait," he whispered, his voice thick. "Don't go yet. We need to talk."

"Stack, it’s late, truly. You have him for the weekend, I should get home," you murmured, jiggling your keys nervously.

"Please." The word was quiet, stripped of his usual tone. You heard the raw vulnerability in his tone—the sound of a man who was hurting. "Just five minutes. Please."

You hesitated, your purse strap dug into your shoulder, but you nodded slowly.

The front door clicked shut, leaving just the three of you in the home, how it used to be. The house fell into a heavy silence.

Stack looked down at Amari, then back to you. "I'm gonna put him to bed. I'm beggin' you don't leave. Please".

You wait in the hallway, you fiddle with the keys in your hand, watching him carry your son up the stairs. This house used to be yours. He used to be yours. This house is the one you decorated, the nursery that Stack insisted on painting and getting Smoke and Sammie to help. Everything was the same here, and that's what stung.

Seeing the house, the home you two built together, felt like the ghost of the life you used to have felt more real than the one you were living now.

You stare at the art that hung on the wall. You remember the day you picked it out, it reminded you of the flowers he got on your first date, the lilies he gifted you, you remember you wanted to walk down the aisle with those exact flowers in hand.

Stack heads upstairs, to Amari's bedroom placing him in bed laying a loving kiss on his head and tucking him, before turning off the lights and closing the door.

A few moments later, you heard the soft click of the bedroom door upstairs. Stack had left the bedroom. His heavy and measured footsteps descending from the staircase, each creak of the floor felt like a countdown.

Felt like a bomb just waiting to go off.

You see him as his eyebrows are furrowed his back straightened body almost stoic. He stood there for a beat his shoulders dropped, looking less guarded then he did when he was glaring at you from across the dinner table, that expression on his face looked more like the man you used to wake up to every morning.

You feel a lump in your throat, and then he looked at you, he really looked at you and you saw exhaustion on his face and it mirrored the pain in your chest.

Truthfully, you weren't sure how this was going to go. What were you going to say? or do? How could you make this right, and how would he take this?

He took his time, taking slow steps into the hallway. He didn't rush toward you, he kept a respectful distance— a painful distance.

"He's out cold," His voice barely above a whisper, you can hear the raspy emotion in it. "Was always a heavy sleeper, just like his mama."

He looked past you this time, towards the living room, then back at you, his gaze settling on your face with this time a searching intensity. He didn't start with an apology for the scene at the table and he didn't start with a demand, yet.

Instead his eyes were just on yours, his eyes looking at the woman he used to know— the woman who wanted those lilies for a wedding that should've happened, but never did.

"It's been a while since i saw you standin' in this hall, and not in a rush to leave" he said his words almost forced.

You don't know what to say.

He took another step, this time his presence filling the space, the heat of his body radiating towards you. He gestured towards the living room, toward the space where the two of you used to talk until the sun came up,

"I know you don't wanna be here, and i know i might be over steppin'," he continued, his voice dropping into that low, register that made you skin prickle. "But i gotta know, for my own sake… when did we get to the place when I'm the last person you'd tell what's going with you, when have i been the last person to know anything goin' on with you?"

"When did i become the person that you truly hidin' from?" he said.

You gripped your keys so hard that the metal began to bite into the palm of your hand.

"I don't know what you want me to say, Stack I-I didn't want you to find out like this. I just…I don't know"

Stack watched you and took a step closer, the shadow of the man who used to be your world was large in the dim living room. That anger that splayed his face at the dinner table has shifted..into something heavier, something that look like grief and maybe even sorrow.

"I know why you broke it off, the engagement," he said his voice cracking with vulnerability he usually kept locked behind his grills and his pride.

"I know I was gone too much, I was chasin' the bag, chasin' the life I thought you and 'Mari deserved, the one i thought you truly needed. I know and now i know I learned the hard way that the work isn't everything. Work doesn't hug me when I walk through that door. Work doesn't watch movies with me on the couch or fall asleep in my arms."

He vaguely gestured with the nod of his head toward the stairs where your son was sleeping.

"That's my family up there. That's my heart. And i come home to this big house and it's different, it's just…quiet. Too quiet."

His chest was heaving as he looked at you, his eyes were searching yours for the woman who wanted to carry the lilies you liked so much down the aisle. His jaw couldn't help but clench at the thought of Jackson settling in his mind and the hurt at the mention of another man sharpened back into a shape of jealousy.

You couldn't help but feel guilt.

"So who is he?" His voice rose, the irritation slipping back in again, the same kind that was shown at the dinner table moments ago. "Who is the man, is this man spending time with you and my son? Do you love him, or is he some guy who is doing something I couldn't?"

"Stack" you begin.

He was now all up in your personal space, the scent of that familiar cologne and smoked wood chips now clouding your judgment. "Does he care for you? Does he hold you like you deserve?

"Cause I know how you need to be held. And what about my son? What is 'Mari calling him daddy?? Does he treat 'Mari right? Or is this nigga just playin' house with my life?".

You feet shifted the your weight, he looked down at your hands, seeing you fidget with your bracelet and his voice dropping into a pained whisper. "Tell me the truth. Do you love him more than what we had?"

Your eyes couldn't help but water up and you put your bag down on the table. the sudden sting of tears blurring the hallway lights. You let out a jagged breath.

"Just listen, You're not listening, Elias!" you broke out. your voice echoing, trying not to be loud enough to wake up Amari. "I told you! I told you a hundred time back then to take a break, to stop running yourself into the ground. I told you money wasn't everything, that we didn't need the i house or the fancy life if it meant you were never here. But you never truly listened! You were always working, always gone, when all I wanted was for you to be home, you were chasing something that didn't have me or Amari's name on it, while i was chasing you to stay home."

Stack took a sharp step toward you, his face becoming darkened with a mix of frustration and desperation. "That ain't what I asked you! I'm not talkin' bout the past right now, I'm talkin' about this! I'm asking you if he's replacing me! I'm asking you if he is who you truly love?"

His eyes were wild searching your face, seeing if a lie would come from your mouth or the truth that would destroy him.

Do you truly love that man? If you kiss him, you must, right? Stack thought.

"I need to know if I lost you to me working, to the lifestyle, or if i lost you to another man" he let out, his voice dropping into a painful sound

You choked on your tears as you heard him ask you these questions.

"Does he know how to hold you when you're scared? Does he look at you the way I do?"

The vulnerability that had been there moments ago had hardened into a desperate, jealous hunger.

"You look at me", he commanded, his voice slightly shaking. "You look me in the eye and you tell me, that he is the one you love? Or are you just tryin' to fill a bed that I ain't layin in no more?"

If someone came in to this house right now you think they would choke on how thick the air was, the tension. It was suffocating.

You could feel the heat radiating off of him. His gaze was burning, demanding honesty and truth for the both of you.

You bit your cheek and the words tore from you, raw and jagged, you took a step back as your wiped at your eyes, but the tears kept coming, relentless.

"He isn't you, Stack!" you choked out, the confession coming out like a physical blow. "He isn't you. I just.. I needed something to forget that i needed you and still want you. I was trying to fill a void, I was just trying to find a way to make the house feel less quiet, i just needed somebody. I don't know, I needed someone who would show up. But he couldn't truly replace you…. No one can, Elias".

Stack stood there as if the words that left your lips had struck him in his chest as he stared at you. The fire he had in his eyes only calming with a bit of clarity.

"Jackson can't replace Amari's father," you continued, your voice shaking, trembling. "Because I see it every night. When I put 'Mari to bed, and he has a nightmare… and he wakes up crying in the middle of the night," you continue with a shaky breath. "It isn't Jackson he's screaming for. He calls for you. He wants his Daddy".

Stack's jaw dropped slightly, his gaze no longer on you but falling to the floor as he hears the words leaving your lips, they are now settled into his bones. The slick-mouthed man who always had something to say or a defensive response, was now quiet, he was found without the words, speechless.

He took a step toward you, this time not defensive or jealous, just understanding with a bit of defeat. His hand trembled as he caressed your cheek, just that touch was electric, it was so familiar, it reminded you of how he always wanted to look at you, his eyes were filled with regret that felt deep like it just might swallow you both.

"I ain't know" he whispered, his voice breaking "I thought, i was been erased, I thought i was just going to be the man who dropped off checks and takes him for this weekends…i don't wanna be that".

His hand lingered on your cheek as he wipes away a tear falling from your eye.

"I'm sorry" the weight of the conversation, the months of contemplations all the trouble seemed to collapse the moment you stepped into him. You let it g, the hurt, anger, frustration. You let out a hitching sob and melted int his arms.

You felt the broadness of his chest, it firmly against yours. The intoxicating scent surrounding you, filling your sense. Instantly transporting you back to the nights you use to fall asleep to the steady rhythm of his heart.

But he didn't hesitate, he completely locked his arms around you as if he were trying to pull you back into the void that needed to be filled. His face buried into the crook of your neck, you feel his breath on it prickling your asking, his breathing was wet against your skin.

You could feel the slight shake in his hands.

It was just silence for a while, neither of you spoke. You just stood there, tears running down your face, but as you stood there in his arms. It felt like for the first time you were breathing fresh air for the first time in a long time.

Your tears dampened the fabric of his shirt, causing him to hold you even tighter, his warm palm splayed on your lower back, rocking you slight, a motion he used to sooth Amari, he is now using it on you.

He pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes searching your as his hand moves to cradle your face with tenderness. "I'm here" he whispered, his voice thick. "I'm right here, we gonna fix this, I'm gonna fix this,"

These walls the ones you two built together are now wrapping you in it's arms, all the memories comes flooding back, it was less of a burden and more of relief.

He didn't pull away, he leaned close to you having your foreheads resting against each other, all you hear is the shallow breathes you are now both taking.

You felt the heat of his gaze, his focus now entirely on you, his eyes almost hid the terrifying feeling of losing his soul. Losing you

"He doesn't love you like I do" Stack whispered again, his confession having the hair of your back standing up. "He can't, cause your heart is wrapped in mine, you have me completely baby, he doesn't know the half of our love, the love i have for you."

He pressed a lingering yet tender kiss to your tear-stained cheek. You couldn't help but let out a broken sound, causing your eyes to flutter shut. He moved lower this time his lips grazing the sensitive skin on your neck, his hot shaky breath against your pulse, causing you to shiver and tighten your hands on him.

His touch was like a claim, a silent plea to have you back, for you to remember what you two shared, for you to remember everything you tried to hurt and forget with another man.

"I'm sorry, baby" he said against your neck. "I'm sorry I let work get in the way of you and 'Mari, I'm sorry it got in the way of you, but I've changed."

His lips trailed back up, hovering just a bit from yours. He took a second, he waited giving you the chance to pull back, but you didn't you moved closer.

"Please Elias" is all you said and that was all he needed to hear.

His lips finally crashed into yours, this kiss was heated it was the collision of your love and longing coming together, you were starving for his lips ever since the last time you had then on yours.

This kiss burned with hope, with a new beginning it was a kiss that said more than you two felt words ever could, it was a sealed promise that the void Stack created could only be closed by the one who created it, Stack himself.

"Please, speak to me?" Stack pleaded as his chest was heaving, as his hand slid down the small of your back, pulling you closer to him.

You were grounded here, this was your home, this was where you heart resided between Stack and Amari, in this house.

"I want you, it's always been you, Jackson couldn't even—" you began to say.

"Imma prove to you that no man can replace me, but i think you know that baby, don't you?" he asked, you feel as if his question was rhetorical.

"I love you "ꨄ︎", I love our son, I wanna prove to you I've changed, I wanna show you that I am the man you've wanted me to become, the business is doing so well I won't have to work for a long time, this time I can provide and be here for the both of you". He states looking you in your eye.

Your eyes threaten to swell with tears again as these are the words you've been wanting to hear all along; this is all you wanted.

It was your turn to lean in and kiss him, leading you to be breathless, Stack's arms cling tighter to you, sliding to the meat of your ass to hold onto, causing you let out a moan.

He sits on the couch, pulling you down with him, forcing you to straddle his lap, knees braced on either side of him. He holds your hips, looking up at you as one of his hands makes it's way towards your stomach, leading to cup your breast.

He massages you breast through your clothes. "So you want me, hm?" He asks, but by the way you are grinding on him, he definitely knows the answer.

"You know I do," you whimper as you begin to take your shirt off, and his hands quickly go to unhook your bra, stripping it off of you so he can see your tits. His eyes are solely on you as his lips inch closer to your nipples, and his tongue latches onto you.

He strips his shirt off placing it on the couch.

You whimper, biting your lip "Elias-" you lean closer to him as his lips encircle your breast. Stack shakes his head "Nah, baby, say my name".

"Daddy" you whimper as your nails dig into his neck.

You heard a low moan leave him, as his mouth was working on your right breast while your other nipple was busy being squeezed by his fingers. You shifted slightly, beginning to grind on him.

"God, I've missed you, baby," he moaned, as a string of saliva connected to his lip and to your nipple. He licks his lips. Your back arches, only wanting to lean into him as much as you could, as far as you could.

You take his chin in your hand, truly looking at him, and you smile, kissing him. He leans back as you melt into his touch, your bodies were melting together on the couch. You both have been aching for this.

Your hands are shaking as you pull at the strings of his sweatpants, as he grabbed your wrists shaking his head. "As bad as I can't wait for that, I need my mouth on you first" He stated, his mouth trailed up to your neck finding beautiful places to make marks on.

Before you can try to grind your hips again, Stacks kisses you, completely silencing any of your pleas, as he lifts you up and gently sits you on the couch, breaking your kiss. You quickly pull your shorts down, but Stack grabs your wrist as he sees your fingers looped onto your panties.

His eyes never left yours as he knelt before you, as if he were ready to give you everything. He peppered kisses on your knees, up to your thighs. His eyes weren't just loving or lustful, but they were determined…they—no, he was hungry.

He saw your soaked panties and kisses them, smelling the sweet musky scent of you, smiling to himself.

"Missed this smell, missed how you taste" he said.

You squirmed as your wet panties cling to your sticky mound "Please, do something, daddy!!" you whimpered.

He didn't take your panties off yet, no, he kissed you through your panties, and all you could do was watch as your hand found his head, caressing the back of it.

"Patience, baby" is all he whispered, but you swore he wasn't even talking to you; he was talking to your pussy.

He licked your panties that clung to your heat, your hand instinctively tighten on his shoulder as you shuddered a breath. His tongue was laid wide as he licked stripes all over your pussy.

Hearing your whimpering and seeing you squirm was good enough taunting for him as he then took your panties off for you, having the wet fabric slide down your ankles, holding them in his hand.

Your bare soaking pussy now in front of him, just glistening, so pretty.

"Please, been wanting you to get a taste all day" you pleaded. You knew you just had to rile him up at the exact moment so he would stop going go slow.

Why was he taking so long anyway? Didn't he want you?

He groans as the blood and heat rushes to his cock.

His mouth finds your clit, immediately causing you to hiss and your back to arch. He tasted your heat, your slick oozing into his mouth.

"Shhh.. baby, we ain't tryin wake him up, keep your voice down, okay ?" he spoke lowly, as he kissed your mound. "Can you do that for me, or try?"

You inhale deeply nodding, "I can try, nnghh". He barely gave you time to respond as his tongue lapped at you again.

 His tongue absolutely agonizing, as he lifts his head only a bit "That nigga got a taste of this?" he asked as his finger begins to apply pressure to your clit.

You whimper, trying to cover your mouth. He did say for you to keep your voice down, didn't he ? So why would you answer his question now?

His eyes bore into yours, his warm, comforting mouth now releasing you, causing you to shiver, feeling the cool breeze on your wet, sopping pussy. His energy completely shifted, and his eyes grew dark as he looked at you.

"I know you heard me." he reiterated.

His tongue began to glide against your folds, as he pulled your legs closer towards him, his nose started to hit your clit, panting wasn't what you were doing at this point, you were gasping for air as your hand pushed his head in deeper, your voice cried out as your hand snapped to cover it.

"mmmm-nghhh baby s-slow down" your hips began to jerk.

"Answer my question"

"H-He did" you admit as your eyes closed, causing Stack to pull back from your soaking pussy, and you to look down at him.

"Come here" Stack said pulling your hips down, so you two are now both on the floor and you pull his dick out of his sweatpants, he aligns your sopping pussy with his mouth, your wet mouth with his tip.

"You gonna forget his name tonight, I'll make sure of it" is all he said, as he spread your ass and his nose hitting your pussy. You can't help but moan and grind, staring at his now standing dick, he was hard, hard for you.

You drool on him before leaning down and wrapping your wet warm lips around his dick.

"All this for me?" He asked, and you can't help but nod your head, causing you to bob your head on him eagerly.

"Breathe, baby, breathe," he reminds you as his own mouth finds it was back to your pussy.

He was huge, but you've missed this, you missed having his body with yours, this is the void you've been trying to fill, all you wanted was him. Your hips never stop rolling on his face as you whimper on his dick, his hips snapping, causing you to choke a couple of times and hit the back of your throat.

His hands find their way on your waist, holding you steady and completely devouring you, causing you to gasp and moan at the feeling.

Your mouth releases his dick "fff-ucck, mmhm keep going baby please."

You stroke his dick, and unexpectedly you snap, feeling a release oozing from your pussy. You cum on his face, forcing your hips to jerk as you lift form is face a bit, seeing hims lick his lips you turn around and kiss him, tasting yourself on your own tongue.

Stack groans, "You taste as sweet as I remember. Come on, baby, I need to be inside you."

You whimper and nod, pulling away from him, and licking your lips as his back stays lying on the ground, and you straddle him, but he quickly swaps places with you, rolling you two so he is now on top of you.

As much as he loved seeing you on top, he wanted to give you everything.

His hand reaches for those soaked panties he had, wrapping it around his cock and stroking himself, and you watch him, only the pre cum getting on your panties.

"I need you, baby, gosh I've missed you," he said, hissing, lining his dick up into your tight hole.

Your hand wraps around the back of his neck, causing him to grab your throat, and you two sloppily kiss, making out, tongues fighting for dominance. Feeling and tasting yourself on his lips, he moves a bit closer to you.

You feel him, his tip sinking in slowly, as if he was taking his time to indulge in you, savoring how you feel wrapped around him, your soaked, gushy walls, sopping and crying just for him and only for him.

Your arms instantly wrapping around his neck, his hand moved your thighs, spreading you out, trying to dig deeper, you couldn't help but clench.

And all this time you were going on without him? Without your best friend, the man you love? You wonder how you made it this long anyway.

"Baby, you too tight, open up for me" He commanded, as his middle finger began to place itself on your clit and rub in a slow circular motion, making you jolt. He took his opportunity to thrust deeper, knocking the wind out of you.

As one hand was beside your head the other between your legs, messing with your clit.

"You so tight, baby, it's ok Daddy's back, i'm here, i'm right here" He whispered.

You couldn't help but whine, as your hand wraps around his wrist trying to slow down his painful yet pleasurable toying with your clit.

"Nah, baby, this is who you need, I'm right here," He said as he felt your hand wrapping around his wrist, causing him to intertwine his fingers with yours, placing your hand above your head. Now both of your hands are interlocked together.

"Missed you, missed you so much," He groaned as his hips didn't even want to stop. "No, no, it's ok, baby." "It's a lot taking a real man's dick, but you remember how to don't you?. His voice was somewhat taunting

You don't know if he was talking to you or her. But his hips moved if he had everything to prove, as if you were on the line.

"You're so big nggghh" your breath coming out as panting.

"You can take it, I know you can, just like you used to."

"Mmhmmm, you feel so good," you can't help but look at him.

His thrusts only picked up, becoming harder and more determined, with pure precision. You only grow tighter around him, his hand that was intertwined with yours soon released, slithering down your face to palm your throat in his grasp.

"Who you miss? Hmm? Say you missed Daddy's dick," he said as he leaned down his warm breath on your ear, tickling your neck.

His hand firm on your throat, it wasn't brutal, it was only light pressure, squeezing ever so lightly, just the way you liked it. He remembered.

You snap your hips up to meet his "I-hmph,"

He squeezed your throat just a little tighter as he felt your hips meet his.

"I missed your dick, baby."

The only sounds in the living room to be heard, was the slapping of skin, your moaning, ass rubbing against the soft carpet, but more importantly the wet sound coming from you pussy.

"Cmon pretty, i need you to- hah! try to stay quiet i need to hear something" he kissed your lips, his hips slowing down slightly.

"What?" you asked in a bit of confusion.

"You trust me?" He asks rather softly, catching his breath

Your eyebrows furrow as you choke on a moan. "Of course I do"

A smile appeared on his face, more like a mischevious grin as he gave a peck to your forehead.

His hand, which was wrapped around your throat, then covered your mouth, and all you could do was look at him and take it.

The palm of his hand covering your mouth, not harmfully—just silencing you.

"I love you, I need you to know that, and you tap me if I'm too rough, alright?"

All you did was nod, and that's when the thrusts began, oh, he fucked you, he fucked you like he hated you or something, as if he was trying to win a competition.

"Shhh, baby i can't hear her" he breathed.

Your muffled moans were dying by his hand, silencing you.

Schlick.

Your eyes widen, causing your breathing to become heavier.

He moaned at the sound "Thereeee, she is,"

Schlick

Your hands traveled making there way to your clit as you play with yourself only a little bit.

"Oh thaattt's it baby say it one more time for me, who is daddy?" He asked, but again he wasn't ask you to say it, he wanted to hear it. Hear it from her.

You took deep breathes as you felt the cum already pooling down your ass.

"Hmphh- Mmmm" was all could be heard from you.

"That's it C'mon baby talk to me" he commanded and so she did.

He was in a different state, he was commanding your attention and your pleasure, when and where to give it was all up to him.

He felt you, and seeing your eyes roll back and your body begin to shake, your sound muffled, as you gripped onto him like your life depended on it, circling your hips back to his.

"F--Fuckkk I think —I'm gonna cum, can I ?" before he can finish his sentence, you nod, both of your hips meeting one another's in pleasure.

His hips stilled, his abs clenching, as he panted catching his breath and removing his hand from your mouth.

"You okay? He asks carefully, as he pulls out slowly. Catching his breath.

You nod, feeling the plush cushion on your skin felt nice, the house was silent more of catching each other breath than anything. The soft hum of the air condition.

He grabs his sweatpants, putting them back on and heading over to the fridge grabbing water.

He hands you a bottle "Drink"

You feel the nice cool water bottle in your palms as you begin to drink it, just what you needed.

It truly felt surreal to be back in this house, with the man you’d tried so hard to erase from your heart.

Stack was sitting next to you, with his hand resting on your waist, his thumb tracing slow, thoughtful circles against your skin.

"Stay," he whispered, the word carrying more weight than a command. It was a plea. "Don't go back to that house tonight. Just... stay here. With me. With 'Mari."

You look towards the window. "Stack… I didn't even bring any clothes, shit I wasn't even supposed to be here. I only have the clothes I came in with."

Stack has a small smile appear on his face after he takes a sip of water. "You know I still have some of your clothes in the room in a box", he said, a bit sheepishly, as if he didn't just rearrange your organs. "I don't know what it's got in there, but there is definitely some leggings, some sweatpants, and a hoodie."

Stack watched your face, and he could clearly see all the wheels turning in your brain.

"Listen to me, I ain't rushing you, but i'm not gonna act like i don't miss you or love you. That is clear, it's gonna work, cause imma make it work," he said reassuringly "It ain't gonna be the same as it use to be, cause I ain't the same man and imma prove it to you and 'Mari no matter how long it takes."

He looked at you "We ain't gotta tell him everything, we just gon' tell that Mommy stayed over cause we missed each other, we can take it slow, I don't have any problems with that. But I ain't letting work or anybody come between what we got. I want my family back. I want you back.

You looked at his hand interwined with yours "Are you sure this time?"

Stack nodded.

"And you promise?" you ask.

"Promise, we'll be slow, I ain't losing my family again". Stack said reassuring.

mika's notes .ᐟ.ᐟ: ummmm yeah i actually loved the way this turned out, i might revised the smut, but i hope you all enjoy, i think this might be the longest fic to date

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Evening had blanketed the luxurious ranch, the sky shifted from gold to a deep violet and the vast land responded in its own quiet language. Katydids, field crickets, and cicadas woke. The pond gave off a soft shimmer. Somewhere near the tree line, the horses flicked their tails and moved closer to the barn, sensing that night had come. 

Annie Moore stepped onto the spacious porch and paused, letting the air wrap around her. It had weight to it here. Southern heat. Fragrance. Memory. Evening on their land carried Smoke’s signature from the dark wood siding of the house to the line of lanterns he installed along the porch rail for her. They glowed like small fire spirits guiding her back every time she wandered too far. 

The luxury ranch stretched wide and private, a pocket of the world carved out just for the two of them. Acres of pasture rolled away into the distance. A creek curved through the back woods like a hidden vein. Dear, and other forest animals stepped carefully near the pond at dusk, lowering their heads as if paying silent respect to whatever lived in the stillness. Smoke always said the land was alive. Annie believed him. It breathed around her and it listened. 

The dogs had already begun their evening patrol. Bramble trotted along the fence line, a hulking shadow with eyes that missed nothing. Jet lingered closer to the porch, pacing until he was certain everything was as it should be. Annie watched him settle, then glanced towards the barn where a warm light glowed through the half-open doors. Smoke was still inside, finishing whatever he needed to finish before he put the day down. 

The barn always pulled Annie’s attention. Its cedar beams held the scent of hay and leather, and the stable lamps casted a soft amber wash over the stalls. Midnight, Smoke’s stallion, turned his head at the sound of footsteps, ears pricking forward. Honey drop—mild-tempered and curious—leaned out of her stall as if expecting Annie to come in and stroke her muzzle. Flint and River shifted in the straw, the gentle scrape of hooves echoing in the quiet. 

But tonight, Annie didn’t walk towards the barn. She stood on the porch, watching the last of the sun sink behind the ridge, the ranch house behind her. A house Smoke designed to feel lived-in and intimate instead of ostentatious. Dark wood floors. Soft lamps. Deep ruggs that cushioned her steps. A fireplace that never quite lost its ember scent. It was the kind of home that asked nothing of them except honestly. 

Inside, the living room held a peaceful quiet. The broad stone fireplace flickered, casting shadows along the walls. Smoke’s favorite armchair sat angled towards the fire, his book still open on the table beside it. The kitchen beyond it glowed with under-cabinet lights, a soft golden wash over marble counters and shiny appliances. Pots hung neatly above the island. Fresh herbs and spices waited in jars and a heavy-duty wooden cutting board sat on the kitchen island like Annie planned to cook later. 

Their bedroom sat on the second floor towards the back of the house where night always felt thickest and the quiet didn’t break unless they broke it. Their bed was low and wide, dressed in black linen sheets. The balcony door was cracked open, letting in a faint breeze that carried the scent of pine and distant earth. Annie could see the faint outline of the pond from where she stood, moonlight reflecting on its service. Smoke built this place for peace. Annie turned it into home. The ranch held both desire and a soft domesticity. 

Annie eased further down the porch steps. Smoke’s silhouette moved inside the barn, tall and broad, presence unmistakable even from afar. She watched him for a long moment, the easy strength in the way he lifted the feed bag. The quiet confidence in how he moved through a space that obeyed him. Her pulse answered him from across the field. 

It always did. 

Everything on this land—every horse, every breeze, every grain of dust that’s suspended in golden light—knew them. Knew their history. Knew the magnetic pull between their bodies. Knew the way Smoke’s voice softened only for her. Knew the way Annie curved towards him before he even touched her. 

Annie stepped back inside, the door closing behind her with a soft click, sealing her into the low-lit peace of their home. Shadows deepened along the hallway walls as she moved towards the kitchen. 

It greeted her with open arms. 

Wide counters of dark stone. A double farmhouse sink. Tall-backed leather stools lining the island. Everything smelling faintly of fresh herbs and wood polish. 

Annie reached for the small alcove tucked between the pantry and the far wall. Smoke had designed it specifically for their wine, built into chilled shelving that displayed bottles like artifacts. Their vineyard was a passion project, a piece of their legacy, and the pride of the collection sat at eye level: 

Boudreaux & Moore Reserve. 

A full-bodied Southern red blend cultivated from Delta soil that runs deep with memory, mineral, and heat. Grown under long Mississippi suns and cooled by river wind at dusk. The wine carries both structure and soul. 

It’s a wine of contrast. 

Dark but luminous. Refined but untamed. 

Each vintage is produced in limited quantity, hand-harvested and aged with patience, never rushed. The result is a red that doesn’t simply sit on the palate, it settles in, lingers, and speaks back. 

Annie smiled as her fingers brushed the label. 

A proprietary blend, typically composed of Cabernet Sauvignon for backbone, tannin, and depth. Syrah for spice, smoke, and body. And Petit Verdot for color, structure, and a subtle wild edge. The exact ratios shift slightly with each harvest, guided by instinct, climate, and taste rather than rigid formula. 

In the glass, Boudreaux & Moore Reserve pours a deep garnet-black, almost opaque at its center, with a slow-moving viscosity that clings to the bowl. At the rim, a faint crimson halo catches the light. A quiet reminder that beneath its darkness, there is warmth. 

The bottle is heavy, dark glass—nearly black. The label sits against it like a quiet statement. Matte black textured paper embossed in aged gold foil. At the center, a grapevine rises from the bottom of the label, its roots thick and grounded. As it climbs, the vine begins to unravel into soft curls of smoke, fading into the upper design. Hidden within the border, nearly invisible unless studied closely, are fine-lined details: 

Subtle Rootwork-inspired patterns.

Coordinates of the vineyard.

A faint, almost ghostlike glow etched into the vine lines.

At the bottom edge, a single line reads: 

“From soil to spirit” 

Two forces. Two histories. Two fires learning how to burn in harmony.

Annie pulled a bottle free, the glass cool in her hand. The cork released with a soft pop. The scent rose immediately. 

Black cherry. 

Warm spice.

A hint of dark plum and oak. 

Thick and sultry on the tongue. 

A wine that unfolded slowly. A wine with weight. 

She poured herself a glass, the rich color catching the kitchen light and glowed like garnet. Annie carried it through the living room and took her usual seat on the corner of the sectional. The place where she could see the kitchen. The hallway. The porch. The world felt anchored from here. And on nights like this, she liked to sit and listen for the sound of Smoke coming home. 

The first sign was the creak of the porch. Then, the door opened. The unmistakable sound of his boots. Smoke always stopped at the threshold. Always respected the house she poured herself into. He braced one hand against the wall as he untugged the heel of the first cowboy boot. Then the second. When he stepped inside fully, the air shifted. 

Smoke filled the doorway in a way that made the room feel smaller, hotter, more aware of itself. The barn’s heat clung to him. The scent of cedar, horse, sweat, and something unmistakably him drifted forward with each step.  

His body was everything Annie loved. Broad shoulders, thick muscles. Arms carved from heavy work and heavy habits. A chest framed by a white tank that clung to him, damp in places from the work he’d done in the barn. Deep, brown skin kissed bronze at the high points. Neck glistening faintly. Jaw shadowed. Lips soft and plush but set in a stoic, focused way he carried when he had been working. 

He wore denim. Well-worn. Low on his hips. Dark where sweat and dirt had touched. Faded where his thighs stretched the fabric. The sight of him alone could bring a flush to her. 

Her man. Her husband. Her impossible softness wrapped inside a body built for strength. 

Smoke didn’t glance her way at first, he headed straight to the sink. He turned on the faucet and ran his hands under the water, rubbing away dust and the lingering feel of leather reins. He lathered his hands good twice, his back flexed with each motion. Shoulders rising and settling. The tank stretching across muscle she had memorized with her palms. 

Annie sipped her wine slowly, enjoying the view. Enjoying the warmth pooling in her belly. Enjoying the simple luxury of watching her husband move through the space they built together. 

Smoke reached for some paper towels, dried his hands, tossed it in the trash, and only then did he look her way. 

His eyes softened. Just enough for her to feel it. The quiet between them grew charged. Familiar. 

Annie lifted her glass again, just to give her hands something to do while she admired him. Smoke leaned his hip against the counter and studied her in that way he did when he knew she had something on her mind. 

Annie smiled. Knowing. 

Smoke crossed the room with the steady confidence that always made Annie’s breath hitch. His steps were unhurried. They came from a man who never needed to announce himself. Smoke stopped in front of her, casting a shadow over her body. Annie lounged along the sectional like she had been poured onto it, her mint green abaya dress draped in soft folds, one shoulder exposed, the fabric slipping just enough to reveal a hint of collarbone and the gleam of her gold jewelry. The dress hid the fullness of her curves in a way that somehow made her look even more decadent. Smoke’s eyes swept over her, slow and appreciative, as if confirming she was exactly as he remembered from the moment he left her that morning. 

Smoke leaned down. Not with haste. Not with hunger alone. With ownership and affection wound together. His fingers slid beneath her chin, tilting her face up to his. Annie didn’t lift her eyes right away. She slowly dragged her gaze up, blinking slow. 

Smoke kissed her hard. A deep, claiming kiss that pulled a soft sound from her throat. His mouth moved against hers with certainty. His tongue stroked slow at first, then deeper when she opened for him. The kiss wasn’t rushed. The warm grunt he let slip vibrated against her lips. His hand held her chin in place while he tasted her and when he finally broke the kiss, he didn’t pull far. Smoke dragged his mouth along her cheek, down to the spot beneath her jaw where her pulse fluttered. His lips found her neck, and he pressed a lingering kiss there breathing her in before finally straightening.

Annie let her fingers graze her lower lip, still tasting him. Smoke watched the gesture as if it were a private performance meant for him alone. 

He moved to his armchair beside the fireplace. The chair was wide, dark, softened by years of use and shaped to the weight of his body. Smoke sat heavily, spreading his legs without thinking, denim stretching over thick thighs. The white tank still clung to his chest, darkened slightly from sweat. He reached for the cedar humidor on the table beside him. His thick fingers moved with practiced ease as he opened the lid, selected a cigar, and held it between his fingers. 

Smoke clipped the tip with a quick, clean motion. The cutter clicked with a sound Annie always found strangely intimate. Smoke lifted the cigar to his nose, inhaled its scent, and closed his eyes briefly as if taking measure of the moment. He struck a match instead of using his lighter. He preferred the flame. Preferred the control. The match flared, casting a warm glow across his knuckles as he brought it to the cigar’s end. He rotated the cigar slowly, coaxing the tobacco to life. The ember bloomed red. Smoke drew the flame towards him with a soft pull, then shook the match out with a flick. 

He settled back, one arm draped over the armrest, the other holding the cigar with lazy dominance. Legs wide. Chest rising and falling calmly as he released the first slow stream of smoke. 

His eyes never left Annie. 

She sipped her wine under that gaze, letting the glass tilt languidly towards her lips. The red glow sat against her glossy lips before she drank, savoring the richness. Smoke’s eyes followed the movement, the swallow of her throat, the way her fingers curled the stem of the glass. 

“You get into anything today?” Smoke asked, voice low and unhurried. It was a simple question, but the tone curled around her like a hand sliding up her thigh. 

“Work,” Annie said, keeping her voice steady even though the air between them felt too thick with tension, “Checked on the vineyard. Tasted a new bach they barreling.” 

Smoke nodded slowly, pulling once more from his cigar. The ember brightened and the smoke drives in a smooth ribbon from his lips. 

“That why you glowing like that?” 

Annie smiled into her wine. She tucked one leg beneath her and shifted, letting the abaya slide higher over her thigh. Smoke’s eyes dropped, subtle, then lifted to meet her eyes again. 

“Maybe I just missed my husband,” Annie said.

Smoke’s jaw flexed. He took another pull from the cigar, exhaled a cloud that curled into the air, and tilted his head slightly as he watched her.

“Did you?”

“Mm-hm,” Annie let the sound linger, “Watching you smoking that cigar ain’t helping.” 

Smoke smirked, the expression slow. He tapped ash into the tray, leaned deeper into his seat, and kept her in his unwavering gaze. 

“You keep looking at me like that,” he said, “And I’m not gon’ let you finish that wine.” 

Annie’s lips parted just slightly, “Maybe that’s the point.” 

Smoke’s exhaled turned into a quiet laugh, low and rough, “Woman…you know exactly what you doin’.” 

Annie sipped again, never looking away from him, “And you like it.” 

Smoke didn’t bother hiding his agreement. His eyes dropped once more to her exposed shoulder, the shine of her gold, the soft curve of her thigh under the mint green fabric. When he looked up again, his gaze was darker. Focused. Heavy with every intention she had been hoping he’d catch. 

“I always like you,” he said. 

And the way he said it made Annie’s pulse thud beneath her skin. 

She held his gaze, “You gon’ stare at me all night or you gon’ say something?” 

Smoke let out a quiet breath, not quite a laugh.

“Ain’t my fault you sittin’ over there lookin’ like God took his time.” 

Annie smiled, bringing the glass to her lips to mask her blush, “you been sayin’ that since we were young.”

“And I meant it then,” Smoke replied, eyes steady on hers, “but it hit different now,” he pulled from the cigar again, exhaling a slow curl of smoke, “you know you fine, right? Don’t roll them eyes. I’m tellin’ you the truth.”

 Annie angled her body towards him, the wine catching a faint shimmer across her mouth, “you only sayin’ all that cause you want somethin’,” she teased. 

“I’m sayin’ it ‘cause it’s real.” smoke nodded once, like he was stamping the words in place, “ain’t nobody on this earth I’d rather come home to than you.”

Annie felt that. 

“Long day?” 

“Long week,” he answered, rubbing his thumb along the side of the cigar, “Business. Barn was hot as hell. Midnight tryin’ to act up again. Flint damn near stepped on my foot,” Smoke shook his head but there was warmth in it, “but then I walk in here, and you sittin’ all pretty in green waitin’ on me? Day start lookin’ better.” 

Annie lowered her glass, “I wasn’t waitin’.” 

“Yes you were,” Smoke’s voice dipped, easy and assured, “you always wait for me, woman. Even when you pretendin’ you ain’t.” 

Annie held his gaze for a long moment. Their history lingered in the quiet between them. Years of learning each other, years of wanting each other in ways neither had language for until they found it together. 

“You miss me?” Annie asked softly.

Smoke’s eyes softened, “Yeah, baby,” he didn’t blink, “I did.”

Annie breathed in, “I missed you too.” 

Smoke leaned forward, forearms resting on his thighs, “C’mere then.” 

Annie gave a small hum of amusement, “You already kissed me, Smoke.”

“Didn’t say that was enough,” Smoke tapped aah gently into the tray, “I said, C’mere.” 

Annie didn’t make a move. She sipped instead, teasing him with the angle of her throat.

“Maybe I’m comfortable.” 

Smoke studied her like she was the only thing in the room worth knowing. 

“You comfortable,” he said quietly, “‘cause you know I’ll come get you if I want you bad enough. And I do.” 

Annie’s smile deepened, lazy and sexy, “then come get me.”

Smoke held her eyes for a beat longer, hunger simmering beneath the look. 

“You keep talkin’ with that voice of yours,” he warned, voice low, “And I’m a forget about this cigar.” 

Annie rested her head back against the cushion, the gold at her throat catching the firelight, “maybe I want you to.” 

Smoke’s mouth curved slow into a dimpled smirk, “You gon’ get me in trouble.”

“That why you love me.” 

Smoke nodded once, “one of the reasons.” 

The tension was a familiar pull that lived in the air of their home. 

“How long you been thinkin’ ‘bout me today?” Smoke asked.

Annie set her glass down gently, “Since before the sun came up.”

Smoke’s lips parted just slightly, appreciation moving through his expression like a quiet current.

“Yeah. That’s what I thought.” 

Annie tilted her head, “How long you been thinkin’ about me?”

Some didn’t look away, “all damn day, baby.” 

Their eyes held. 

Smoke let the last ribbon of cigar smoke drift from his full lips before resting the cigar in the ashtray. He took one slow breath, eyes still on Annie as if he were deciding whether to stay in his chair or go where his body already decided to go. 

Then, he rose. 

The chair creaked under his weight as he stood, broad shoulders, denim pulling tight over his thighs. Annie watched him, wine glass loose in her hand, her eyes warm with a softness she didn’t offer to anyone else. 

Smoke crossed the room and sank into the sectional beside her. The cushion dipped beneath his weight, pulling her closer. Smoke reached for her ankles with gentle yet work-worn hands, the contrast of tenderness and size making her breath slow in her chest. Smoke lifted her feet onto his lap, settling them over his crotch. 

His brow lifted, “when you get these done?” 

Annie smiled, sliding her toes against his thigh, “today.”

Smoke took her left foot in both his hands, thumbs tracing her arch. The neon yellow polish gleamed against her deep, dark skin, bright as summer lemons. Clean lines. Smooth cuticles. A shine you could see from across the room. As if the color was made for her. Smoke turned her foot slightly, admiring it the way he admired her dresses, her hair, her jewelry—quietly but with real appreciation. 

“They pretty, baby,” he said, his voice having a rough edge to it but the admiration softened it, “bright as hell, but pretty.” 

“That’s Crystal’s work,” Annie replied, brushing her dress over her knee, “she came over this afternoon.”

Smoke nodded slowly, “she know what she doin’. These nice,” he shifted his thumb, brushing the pad along the underside of her toes, “I like this color on you.”

“You say that everytime I try something bold.” Annie teased.

“That’s ’cause you make everything look bold,” his eyes flicked up to meet hers, “you know how good you look right now?”

Annie let her smile widen, “you sayin’ that ‘cause I’m relaxin’ or ‘cause my feet in your lap?” 

Smoke leaned back against the couch, legs spreading a little wider under her claves, “I’m sayin’ it ‘cause it’s true. Dress hangin’ off your shoulder. Skin all glowy. This bright yellow against that beautiful skin. You sittin’ up here lookin’ like you know I can’t stop watchin’ you.” 

Annie tilted her head, “You can’t.” 

Smoke chucked under his breath, deep and low, the sound rolling through his chest, “No. I can’t.” 

Annie moved her toes again, gently pressing into the denim crease at his thigh, “you like them that much, huh?”

“I do,” Smoke’s voice dropped, “I like all of you tonight.” 

Annie felt that in her belly, “You tryna butter me up, Smoke?”

“Nah,” he said, shaking his head once, “I’m tellin’ you what I see. You sittin’ pretty in that dress. New nails. Drinkin’ wine. You know damn well you fine.” 

Annie lifted her glass to her lips, “you act like you ain’t seen me dressed up before.” 

“I have,” he continued rubbing slow circles into her arch, his hands big and warm around her foot, “You look rested. Soft. Like your day treated you good.” 

“It did”

“That right?” Smoke angled her foot in his palm, studying it again, “Crystal do your hands too?”

Annie held up her left hand, letting him see the matching neon manicure.

“She sure did.”

Smoke’s eyes warmed, a slight grin tugging his mouth, revealing slight dimples, “Lemme see.” 

Annie reached out, offering him her fingers. Smoke held her hand with the same tenderness he gave her feet, his thumb moving across the bright polish like he was testing the texture.

“You somethin’ else,” Smoke said, “Come in here lookin’ like this and think I’m just gon’ sit way over there.” 

Annie smirked, “would you prefer I toned it down, Mr. Moore?”

“Hell nah,” Smoke released kissed her nails before releasing her hand slowly, letting his fingers trail along her wrist, “I want you loud if you wanna be loud. Soft if you wanna be soft. Neon yellow if that’s what you feelin’. Long as you keep bringin’ it home to me.” 

Annie let her head rest against the cushion, a warmth spreading through her chest, “you really like them.” She tried to hide her blush behind her wine glass. 

Annie l loved to hear Smoke gush about her. She eats it all up. Words of affirmation being one of her love languages. And it made it all the more better coming from her husband that didn’t do much talking in the first place. 

Smoke nodded, “I like anything you choose for yourself. And I like watchin’ you show it off,” Smoke’s gaze dipped to her exposed thigh, “You know I’m weak for you.”

Annie wet her already glossy lips, “you tryna tell me somethin’, Smoke?”

“Just speakin’ on what’s true,” he said quietly, fingers gliding over her skin.

Annie took another slow sip of wine while Smoke watched her, thumb tracing idle patterns along her calf. The heat between them spread slowly. Intentionally. Like something the walls of the ranch recognized and leaned toward. 

“Come sit closer,” Smoke said, voice thin with affection and something deeper. Hungrier. 

Annie shifted, sliding her hips gently towards him, and Smoke’s hands guided her feet even closer across his lap. His touch never left her skin. The movement opened the dress along her thighs, a soft spill of fabric that revealed more of her skin. Smoke adjusted himself, one hand cupping her heel, the other gliding up the sole of her foot with slow, practiced pressure. His touch was firm yet tender like a massage that unraveled her piece by piece. 

“Mm,” Smoke hummed, thumbs working into her arch, “Look at my pretty girl takin’ care of herself.” 

Annie’s breath dipped. She felt the praise settle into her chest the way his hands always settled into her hips when he held her from behind—steady, grounding, warm. Smoke continued working his fingers into the curve of her foot, his gaze pinned on her face with quiet hunger. 

“You somethin’ special, Annie. Every damn time I look at you, I see somethin’ new to love on.” 

Her pulse fluttered. Annie was far from shy, especially not with him, but the way he said it did something to her. She let her toes trace the worn denim that stretched over his thighs, enjoying the way his jaw flexed just slightly at the contact. 

Smoke’s voice dropped lower, a tone reserved only for her, “Lookin’ like my peace and my troubles at the same time.” 

Annie smiled, her expression flirty, “If I’m trouble, you raised me into it, Papa.” 

Smoke’s thumbs slows their circles. His eyes traveled from her toes, up her calf, over the slip of her dress, and finally to her mouth. Annie felt her breath catch. Smoke’s stillness always meant something. Did something. 

His voice found her again, threaded with command and affection.

“You been wearin’ your plug like Papa want you to?” 

The question didn’t land gently. It landed with power. 

Annie’s whole body tightened. It wasn’t from fear. The air around them turned molten. Annie felt the change low in her stomach, an ache that came when he stepped fully into that role she asked for. Wanted. Craved. Her lips parted on a breath she didn’t realize she had been holding. Her toes curled against his thigh. Her thighs squeezed together as if trying to contain something that didn’t want containing. 

Smoke saw it immediately. He always did. His eyes sharpened, darkened, but the warmth never left them. His was not a man guessing. This was a man who knew his wife’s body better than she did. 

“Mm-hmm,” he said softly, thumb striking her ankle, “there it is.”

Annie swallowed, her voice when it came, was quiet but steady, “why you askin’ me that right now?”

“‘Cause you sittin’ here lookin’ ready for me. Everytime you look at me like that, I think about how you feel when you got it in for me. How you melt when I check,” Smoke leaned in slightly, eyes locked on hers, “How you open.” 

The last word brushed over her mind like a hand cupping her pussy.

Annie’s heartbeat quickened. It was impossible to hide from a man who watched her this closely. The wine she’d been sipping settled warm in her chest, but the heat building now came from a different place entirely. 

Smoke’s hand slipped higher along her calf, strong fingers tracing the softest line, “Answer me, baby.” 

Annie breathed out slowly, lips parting. She lifted her eyes to his, letting him see everything she wasn’t saying yet. 

“Yeah,” she whispered, “I been wearin’ it.” 

Smoke’s grip on her calf tightened.

“Good girl.” 

The words didn’t explode between them, they settled. They sank. They found the spot inside her that only he ever touched. Annie felt warmth bloom. Her back softened into the sectional, her thighs eased open as if her body made the decision before her mind could catch up. 

Smoke saw it. Smoke felt it. Smoke owned that shift. 

“That’s my woman,” he whispered, pulling her foot higher into his lap, his thumb stroking the inside of her ankle, “knew somethin’ was different when I walked in. You been holdin’ it in for me.” 

Her breath trembled, “Maybe.” 

Smoke’s smile was dangerous and deeply loving, “ain’t no fuckin’ maybe ‘bout you tonight.” 

He brought her foot to his mouth and kissed the inside of her ankle, arousal blooming where his lips touched her skin.

“Now, tell Papa what you need.” 

Annie’s breath eased out of her in one steady stream. His thumb kept slow circles against her skin, patient, gentle, a quiet reassurance that she could speak freely. That Papa is there to hear what his baby girl had to say. To tell him what she needed. To speak freely. 

Annie lifted her gaze to him—soft, open, certain. 

“I’m ready,” she said.

Smoke stilled. He wasn’t tense or surprised, just fully present. His gaze settled on her face, reading her with the same care he used on her body. 

Annie’a voice came low, “I wanna take you fully now,” Her fingers tightened slightly around the edge of the sectional, “I’m not scared anymore, baby. I want all of you…and I want it deeper…”

Smoke’s voice softened in a way she only ever heard in moments like this, “You sure, Annie?” 

She nodded, the movement small but strong, “I’m sure.” 

“You know we ain’t gotta rush,” Smoke said, still rubbing her arch with the softest pressure, “we can stay where we at. Keep usin’ that size plug ‘til you good. Ain’t no timeline on this.” 

Annie’s chest warmed. His patience was never performative. It was real. Lived in love. And that patience made her want him even more.

“I thought about that,” Annie said, shifting slightly, the dress slipping more along her thigh, “but I been sittin’ with it. Workin’ up to it. Trainin’ good like you told me to. I want you tonight. I’m ready for more.” 

Smoke’s gaze deepened. Heavier, weighted with affection and desire woven together. He kept massaging her foot like he didn’t want his hands to leave her skin while she spoke this truth into the space.

“You prepped before you put it in?” Smoke asked, a question with care. 

“Yeah,” Annie’s voice held no hesitation, “I did everything I was supposed to,” she paused, letting the truth settle between them, “I prepped right. Took my time. And once I felt good, I put the plug in. Been wearin’ it for you since.” 

Smoke’s jaw flexed with smoldering appreciation. 

“You did all that for me, baby?” 

“For us, Papa.” She corrected softly. 

Smoke leaned in a little, his eyes locked onto hers, “Come here, baby.” 

Annie didn’t need to be told twice. She slid closer, her claves still cradled in his lap, her body drawn into his gravity. Smoke let one hand rest over her knee, stroking the skin with his thumb.

“You tellin’ me you fully ready to take your man like that,” he said, his voice low but hitting her like thunder before rain, “and you ain’t scared, not even a little?” 

“I’m not scared no more. I trust you,” she placed her hand on his thigh, her palm warm over denim, “I want you deep in me. However you wanna take me.” 

Smoke looked at her the way a man looks at something precious he plans to handle with care and hunger alike. 

“Aight,” he whispered, “if wifey ready…I’m right here.” Smoke placed a kiss against her knee, “Now, you sure you want Papa, to take you all the way, tonight? ‘Cause you know what that mean, right?” 

Annie’s answer was barely above a whisper but full, her eyes doe-like with desire, “yes…take me all the way, Smoke.” 

His shoulders lowered on a deep exhale, like her words settled something in him too. That tension between them thickened, sweet and heavy. 

“Then we gon’ do it right. Together.” 

Smoke reached for her. His palm slid behind her thigh, guiding her from the cushion to his lap in one smooth pull. Annie went willingly, her knee brushing his hip as she swung a leg over him. She settled onto him with a soft whimper, her thighs bracketing his, her warm, wet pussy pressed close enough that he could feel it throb like a heartbeat through the thin fabric of her abaya. 

Smoke took her wine glass gently from her hand, never breaking eye contact, and sat it on the table beside them. His hands returned immediately—both of them—sliding over the curve of her backside. He dragged his palms down her hips, over the full softness of her waist, up her back where the dress clung to her plush curves. Smoke explored her like she was familiar and new at the same time. 

Annie’s breathing changed. Smoke’s touch always did that to her. He held her gaze with that steady, unblinking intensity he only used on her. 

“If we doin’ this tonight,” he said, voice low and stern, “you gon’ listen to me. All the way through.” 

Annie’s hands slid up his shoulders, her fingers sinking into the warm muscle. His grip moved over her backside again, kneading, dragging, pressing. Annie could feel the strength in every stroke, the ownership wrapped in tenderness. 

Smoke’s thumb brushed the small of her back, “you gon’ follow my instructions,” he continued, “ain’t no rushin’. Aim no tensing up. You hear me?” 

Annie nodded.

Smoke’s hand wrapped around the base of her waist, pulling her more into him, “Nah. I need you to say it, Annie.” 

Annie’s lips parted, breath warming his cheek, “I hear you, Papa.” 

Smoke’s gaze dipped to her mouth, then returned to her eyes, “I need you relaxed. I need you trustin’ me. I need you lettin’ go when I tell you to let go, understand?” 

“Yes, Sir.” She whispered. 

Smoke’s hands cupped her ass fully now, fingers spreading and kneading, claiming the weight of her, “and you gon’ tell me if somethin’ don’t feel right. You don’t hold that in. You speak up. That’s how we do this. That’s how we stay good.” 

“I will,” she said, voice steady and a little breathless, “I promise.” 

Smoke’s approval was quiet but unmistakable, “good.”

His hands trailed lower. Smoke hooked his thumbs under the hem of her dress and slowly lifted the fabric. Annie raised her hips for him, letting the mint-green cloth glide up her further, revealing warm skin inch by inch. 

When the dress rose high enough, Smoke paused. 

No panties. 

His breath eased out of him, slow and thick. His fingers dragged over her bare ass, tracing the round curves of her cheeks. He squeezed as much as he could, juggling her ass like they were two heavy ass cushions of flesh. 

“Mm,” he hummed, eyes flicking up to meet hers, “you came to sit in my lap like this?” 

Annie licked her lips, “Yeah.”

Smoke dragged his hands over her again, appreciating her, memorizing her, “you knew what Papa needed. Been a long day for me. Knew I needed to come home to this.” 

Her hips tilted, giving him more of her to explore. Smoke’s grip tightened again, steady and grounding. 

“I ain’t mad at it,” he said, his hand smoothing over her ass once more, “but you gon’ let me take my time with you.”

Annie nodded again, whisper-soft, “I will.”

Smoke lifted her chin with two fingers, forcing her eyes to stay on his, “say it strong, baby.” 

“I’ll let you take your time, papa. Because it’s yours,” she said, voice firmer now. 

Smoke bit his bottom lip, eyes holding something hot and devoted, “that’s my woman.” 

His thumb drifted dangerously close to the place she wanted him to touch. The place she wore the plug snug between the plentiful flesh of her ass.

Annie shivered. 

Smoke’s thumb grazed it. He smiled, slow and knowing. 

“Damn,” he whispered against her neck, “You open for me, ain’t you?” 

Smoke kissed her again, his tongue sliding against hers with a thirst that had waited all day to be quenched. Between those kisses, his lips brushed hers as he whispered to her. His voice came low, the tone of it curling into her stomach and spreading heat through her entire body. 

“I need you tonight,” Smoke breathed, kissing her again, lips catching hers, “need to feel that ass take me deep.” 

Annie’s fingers tightened at the back of his neck. Smoke kissed her until she sighed into him, her thighs opening just a little more over his. Smoke spread her ass cheeks, the cool air hitting her plugged ass, making her clench. He popped her cheek one at at time before dragging his hands from the top curve of her ass down to the back of her thighs, finger tips barely brushing the outline of her pussy lips spread over his big bulge. 

“You hear me?” Smoke’s mouth brushed her lower lip as he spoke, “Been thinkin’ ‘bout you all fuckin’ day. Thinkin’ ‘bout how you gon’ feel when I put this dick in your mouth,” he flicked his tongue against her lips, “In Papa’s pussy,” his fingers teased her outer lips just a little, “Now I get to open that ass up how I want to? Mm…”

Another kiss claimed her mouth before she could answer. Smoke palmed the back of her head, pressing their mouths together until she felt her pulse responding to the rhythm he set. 

“I’m proud of you,” Smoke whispered against her mouth, brushing her lip with the softest sweep of his thumb, “real proud. You tellin’ me you ready for more…baby, you don’t know what that do to me. But I’m a show you.” 

Annie kissed him back with the same hunger building inside her, her hips grinding, body answering him in small, involuntary movements. 

He kissed her harder. 

“You gon’ let Papa dig in that ass?” He whispered into her mouth, words warm and thick between their lips, “ain’t no runnin’. Ain’t no teasing. You gon’ open these cheeks up for me like you know how.” 

Annie whimpered softly into the kiss, her fingers tightening in his thick, coils. Smoke swallowed the sound, kissing her until she melted full into his lap. One hand kept squeezing one cheek while the other grazed the plug with his thumb. He guided her hips closer with lazy strength until she was pressed fully against the swell of him. 

“That’s it,” Smoke whispered, lips brushing hers, “yeah, you ready for this. I can tell. Bet you drippin’ pussy juice in my lap.” Smoke popped her ass, “you trust me,” he whispered, resting his forehead to hers for a brief second, “I got you. All night.” 

Smoke yanked Annie closer by the hips, then his hands went to her waist and without a struggle he lifted and slammed her thick body flush against his throbbing crotch until she could feel the rigid outline of that thick dick pressing insistently against her wet pussy. His rough hands clamped down on her plump ass cheeks, kneading the soft flesh with heavy squeezes that made her asshole twitch in anticipation. Smoke dragged his calloused palms over her bare skin in desperate strokes, fingers dipping into the crack of her ass and teasing the puckered rim of her tight little hole, sending shivers straight to her dripping pussy. 

He molded his full lips to hers in a sloppy, devouring kiss, his thick, pink tongue thrusting and spearing deep into her saliva-heavy mouth, tangling with her sweet-tasting tongue in a raw hunger that had been building all fucking day. Between those messy kisses, Smoke’s lips grazed hers as he growled low, the gravelly rumble vibrating down to her pussy and igniting a filthy ache in her guts like he was digging in her already. 

“Need that tight butt tonight,” Smoke rasped, sealing his lips over hers again, starting soft and teasing before plunging his tongue back in to fuck her mouth with it, “Needa bury this fat dick in down to my nuts.” 

Annie’s nails dug into the back of his neck, scraping his skin as Smoke devoured her mouth with so much sloppiness she moaned with a broken sound into him, her thick thighs spreading wider over his lap, soaked pussy lips parting to grind against the bulge straining his jeans.

“You hear me, woman?” Smoke’s teeth nipped at her lower lip, tugging it before soothing it with a swipe of his tongue, “Been jerkin’ off in the office today thinkin’ ‘bout you. ‘Bout how this greedy little ass gon’ swallow my dick when I stretch it wide open and pound every fuckin’ inch inside.” 

The kiss grew sloppier, saliva mixing as their tongues slid and sucked with filthy intent. Smoke’s hand crept lower on her ass, thick fingers tracing the deep cleft where her cheeks met, brushing right over the sensitive ring of her asshole. Their lips mashed together until her heartbeat thundered in her ears. Syncing with the oils of his dick against her. 

“I’m so fuckin’ proud of you,” Smoke spoke hotly against her lips, his thumb smearing the spit across her mouth in a dirty caress, “real proud of my dirty girl. You tellin’ me you ready to take my whole dick up ya ass…fuck…that make me wanna wrack you right now.” 

Annie’s breath hitched sharp when his fingers dipped lower, stroking the full globes of her ass cheeks, then sliding between them to circle her tight, pucker with deliberate pressure. Applying force against the plug. Smoke dragged his fingertips over the jeweled end, feeling it clench and quiver under his touch while his other palm cupped her ass, squeezing hard enough to leave marks. Annie kissed him back, her hips bucking, her asshole fluttering as slick arousal leaked from her pussy. 

“Tonight, you givin’ me that ass completely,” he growled into her mouth, the words thick and dripping with lust between their slick lips, “you gon’ spread those cheeks and let me ram my dick in, take it like the filthy anal slut you are.” 

Annie whimpered into the kiss, a needy, broken sound that made her fingers yank his hair, pulling him closer. Smoke swallowed her whine, kissing her until her body went limp and pliant in his lap, fully surrendered. His hand kept groping her ass, fingers probing and massaging the tight entrance, the touch firm, coaxing, owning every inch. He rocked her hips down with lazy but unyielding force until her ass was clapping right on him, the fabric barrier doing nothing to hide how badly he wanted to split her open. 

“That’s my girl,” Smoke breathed, lips dragging over hers in teasing nips, “you fuckin’ ready for this. I can feel that ass beggin’ for Papa’s dick.” 

Smoke scooped Annie up in his strong arms, carrying her effortlessly to their kind-sized bed, the mattress dipping under their combined weight as he laid her out on her back like a feast ready to be devoured. Her legs dangled off the edge at first, but Smoke wasted no time, grabbing her ankles and hoisting them up, spreading her thighs wide apart until her knees bent towards her chest, exposing every inch of her glistening pussy to his hungry gaze. The jeweled base of the anal plug peeked out from between her plump ass cheeks, the toy stretching her tight ring just enough to prepare her for what was coming. 

“Damn, baby girl,” Smoke uttered, his voice thick with approval as he knelt between her splayed legs, his rough hands sliding up the backs of her thighs in long, caressing strokes. His palms glided over her soft skin, thumbs pressing into the sensitive hollows behind her knees, then lower, tracing the curves where her hamstrings met her ass, “such a good lil’ slut for Papa, wearin’ that plug all day like I told you. Keep that asshole nice and open so I can slam this big dick inside you. Makin’ me so fuckin’ proud, Annie.”

Annie shivered under his touch, her phat pussy lips swollen and parted, revealing the slick pink folds beneath her big clit throbbing visibly like a fat pearl begging for attention. The plug’s presence made her ass clench around it involuntarily, sending jolts of pleasure up her spine that made her pussy drip even more, a trail of arousal leaking down towards the toy. Smoke’s fingers dug in a bit firmer on her thighs, massaging the muscles as he leaned in closer, his breath ticklish against her inner thighs.

“Hold them titties together for me, baby. Squeeze ‘em tight…push ‘em up so I can watch ‘em bounce while I eat this juicy pussy.” 

Annie obeyed instantly, her hands cupping her full breasts, pressing them together until the soft flesh bulged between her fingers, nipples hardening into stiff peaks that poked towards the ceiling. She arched her back slightly, offering herself up as Smoke’s eyes darkened with lust. 

He dove in without hesitation, his mouth latching onto her phat pussy with a wet slurp, sucking her thick outer lips into his mouth one side at a time. His tongue lolled out sloppy and broad, lapping at the puffy folds, dragging from her dripping entrance up to her big clit, which he engulfed fully, sucking hard enough to make it swell even larger against his lips. 

“Mmm, fuck, this fat clit perfect,” Smoke groaned against her, vibrations buzzing through her core as he released it with a pop, only to suck it back in, his cheeks hollowing as he nursed on the sensitive nub like it was candy. 

Smoke’s hands kept caressing the backs of her thighs, holding her spread wide while his face buried deeper, nose grinding against her the outer, meaty flesh of her pussy as he sucked her entire folds into his mouth. Tongue thrusting in messy circles, Smoke slurped at her inner folds, pulling them between his lips with gentle tugs before flattening his tongue to lap up her juices, damn near swallowing them down with obscene gulps. The anal plug shifted slightly with each of her squirms, the fullness in her ass amplifying every suck and lick, making her hips buck up towards his mouth. 

His sucks grew sloppier, saliva mixing with her mess to create a filthy sheen over her crotch, dripping down to coat the plug’s base. Smoke focused on her big clit again wrapping his lips around it and humming low, the suction pulling it taut as his tongue flicked rapidly over the tip. 

“That’s it, good girl, take Papa’s mouth. Make you cum so fuckin’ hard before I fuck that ass raw.” 

Annie’s fingers tightened on her titties, mashing them together harder as moans spilled from her lips, her body trembling under the relentless assault of his tongue and lips, every caress on her thighs grounding her in the building ecstasy. 

Smoke’s mouth stayed locked on Annie’s, gushy, phat pussy, his plush lips slurping greedily at the swollen folds, tongue plunging deep into her dripping hole before dragging up to batter her big clit with wet, insistent laps. Saliva and her juices smeared across his chin, dripping down to soak the sheets beneath her ass, the anal plug’s base glistening from the overflow like a precious jewel. Smoke sucked her puffy lips into his mouth again and again, tugging them before releasing with a filthy smack. His fingers dug into the flesh of her thighs to keep her spread wide and immobile under his assault. 

Annie’s hands released their tight squeeze on her big titties, instead starting to jiggling them for him, bouncing the heavy melons up and down in rhythmic shakes that made them slap softly against each other. The motion lifted her chest higher, her stiff nipples tracing circles in the air but it also blocked Smoke’s view of her face completely. Those massive tits heaving like pillows obscuring everything above her stomach, leaving him fixated on the feast between her legs.

“Mmmph—ahhh!” Annie moaned, her voice breathy and high-pitched, the sound breaking into a series of whimpers as his tongue swirled around her clit. She arched her back and rolled her hips, pushing her pussy harder against his face, her ass clenching around the plug with each jiggle of her breasts and quiver of her thighs.

“Yesss, Papa…eat that pussy…ohhhh, fuucckkk, yesss…”

Smoke pulled back just enough to speak, his breath ragged against her slick skin, lips brushing her throbbing clit as he groaned, “Papa eatin’ this pussy good, baby? I know, you makin’ such a mess in my mouth, baby,”  He dove right back in, sucking her big court between his lips with a loud, vacuum-like slurp, his tongue flicking the underside rapidly while humming vibrations through it.” 

“Oh GOD—mmm, yesss, Papa! I love it when you suck on my pussy like that…ahh-ahhh-ahhhhh!” Annie’s moans escalated, turning into staccato gasps that matched the bobbing of her titties, fingers pinching her nipples now to heighten the jiggle, sending sparks straight to her core. Her hips rolled without her control, grinding her phat pussy against his mouth, the wet sounds of his slurping filling th bedroom like obscene music. 

“Pussy so phat,” smoke muttered between sucks, his voice muffled as he latched onto her outer lips, pulling one side fully into his mouth and nursing on it with sloppy pulls, his teeth grazing the tender flesh. He released it with a pop, then switched to the other, his thumbs stroking firmer along the backs of her thighs, feeling the flesh quiver under his touch. 

“So fuckin, thick and juicy, baby girl.” 

Annie’s response came in a drawn-out whine, her body trembling as she kept jiggling her big titties faster, the slaps growing louder, “mmmm, yessss…ohhhh, Papa, don’t stop…haaah—yes, eat it, eat my pussy deep…nngh!” A sharp cry escaped her when his tongue thrusted inside her gushy hole, fucking in and out with quick, messy stabs, lapping up the fresh gush of wetness that coated his face.

“Pussy so wet,” Smoke praised, his words vibrating against her as he flattened his tongue to lap broad stroking from her entrance up to her clit, back and forth, swallowing down the mix of spit and fresh cream with a deep, guttural groan. Smoke couldn’t see yer spaced-out face or rolled-back eyes, but the way her thighs tensed in his grip told him everything—her body’s betrayal of how close she was teetering, “Drippin’ all over Papa’s face like a good fuckin’ slut.” 

Annie bucked harder, the moans fracturing into desperate pants, “Ah! Ah! Ah-ah-ah—mmph! Yessss, Papa, I love your tongue…suck it…suck my clit…ohhhhh fuuuuck!” Her titties bounced wildly now, nearly smacking her chin with each heave, the anal plug shifting inside her and increasing the building pressure in her gut. 

Smoke chuckled low against her folds, the sound rumbling through her core before he sucked her entire pussy up into his mouth again, cheeks hollowing as he nursed hungrily, “I’m suckin’ this pussy good, huh? Papa gotta get you right before I wreck that plugged-up ass,” his tongue delved deep once more, circling her walls before going back to sealing those big lips around her protruding clit, pulling and flicking in tandem—lips, tongue—determined to push her over the edge with his relentless sloppy feast. 

His mouth never left Annie’s phat, wet pussy. His lips sealed tight with every suck, drawing out her juices with relentless pulls that made her thighs quake in his grip. No words escaped him now. Just the wet, filthy sounds of his whole mouthpiece working her over and over, broad and flat licks dragging from her drippy hole up to that big clit in slow, sloppy laps that coated everything in a sheen of saliva and cream. Lapped again and again, strokes wide and unhurried, pressing firmly against her swollen lips and aching clit, flattening the flesh to drag his heavy tongue slickly, releasing to expose how throbbing and soaked she is. 

Annie’a ass clenched tight around the plug, the base pressing deeper with each involuntary squeeze, sending jolts of pleasure through her core that mingled with the heat building from his mouth. She felt pinned in place, her body locked under his hold, but she couldn’t help cocking her hips to the side in a desperate twist, trying to angle for more friction—yet Smoke adjusted instantly, his hands sliding up to grip her inner thighs and yank them wider, keeping her splayed as his tongue chased her movement, lapping at the shifted folds without mercy. 

Annie froze there after that, body going still except for the tremors ripping through her, neon yellow painted toes curling hard in the air, her toes cramping up as waves of pleasure locked her muscles, “ohhhh…mmmph—ahhhhh—ahhhh!” Her moans spilled out in breathy bursts, high an needy, fracturing into whimpers each time his tongue and lips swept broad across her pussy, the sloppy wetness echoing in the bedroom. Her big titties still heaved from earlier jiggles, now settling into a subtle bounce with every hitch in her breath, nipples peaked and aching from neglect. 

Smoke’s chin glistened with her mess, dripping steadily as he shifted to her inner walls, tongue probing shallow to taste the fresh slickness. Then, the slurping started—loud, greedy, noises as he dragged his thick lips before hollowing his cheeks again, pulling those lips towards him, sucking while his tongue flicked rapid against her entrance, drawing out strings of wetness. He paused only to spread her fully, his thumbs hooking into her folds and peeling them apart wide, exposing the pretty pink glistening to the cool air. 

Smoke stared for a beat, eyes locked on her big clit standing swollen and proud, the thick inner lips framing it like petals heavy with dew, quivering under his gaze. The sight made his dick twitch against the bed and his nut sack tighten. Smoke kept her pried open with those strong fingers and dove back in to slurp, the sound filthy and amplified as his mouth engulfed her clit and lips together, sucking with wet pull that made her hips jerk despite her stillness. 

“Nngh—yes, oh fuuuck…mmm, haaah!” Annie cried out, her voice cracking into a series of sharp gasps, toes curling tighter until the neon yellow polish gleamed under the strain, her ass clenching the plug in rhythmic pulses that pushed her closer to the edge. Annie bit her lip, stifling a longer moan that bubbled up, “Mmmph—ahh-ahh—sssss, fuck, Smoke!” Her body arched just enough to feed more of her pussy into his slurping mouth, “mmm, yeah…take it, papa,” she gasped out, voice thick with that NOLA drawl, all husky and drawn long on the vowels. 

“Mhm, goo girl, feed Papa his pussy,” Smoke growled against her, the words vibrating right into her core, his Mississippi tongue rolling deep and rough like gravel under tires. He didn’t stop, tongue lashing out to lick broad over her pussy, tasting the fresh gush she gave him, “There you go, give it to me—gimme that phat pussy, baby. Yeah, push it out on my fuckin’ tongue, lemme suck this sweet pussy dry,” his voice stayed low and constant, filthy praises spilling between slurps as he sealed his thick lips around her clit while his tongue probed the edges of her inner lips, lapping up every drop that leaked out. 

Annie’s ass squeezed the plug tighter with each suck, the fullness increasing the ache low in her belly, big titties bouncing lightly as her chest heaved. Annie bucked and rode his face, hips higher, grinding that phat pussy all in his mouth, smearing her wetness across his nose and chin, “Papa…ohhhh, Papa…I’m cummin’…I’m cummin’, Papa!” Annie cried, the words breaking into a drawn out ‘yessss’ that twisted with her southern lilt, high and desperate. Her thighs clamped around Smoke’s head for a second before he forced them back open, but she didn’t stop, “I’m cummin’, yessss, Papa, don’t stop—I’m cummin’ in yo’ mouth!” 

Smoke hummed approval right into her, the vibration shooting straight through her clit as he kept slurping and twirling the thick tongue in tight circles around the swollen nub while his big lips tugged at her inner lips, stretching them gently before releasing with a wet pop, “keep feedin’ me, baby, that’s my goo pussy—gimmie all that nut, flood papa’s mouth wit’ it,” Smoke urged, words muffled but insistent, his breath heavy against her as he licked faster, sucked her clit, slurped her up. He spread her even wider, fingers slipping closer to her entrance to hold everything open, diving in to slurp directly at the source, tongue thrusting shallow to scoop out her release. 

Annie’s moans turned into a chant, body arching and twitching off the bed as her orgasm ripped through her, pussing clenching and pulsing against his tongue, “Cummin’…Papa…cummin’ so hard—yessss, oh lawd, yes!” She wailed, that NOLA twang making the plea sound even sweeter, her hips jerking erratically to shove more into his relentless mouth. Waves crashed over her, juices squirting in hot spurts that he caught and swallowed with eager gulps, his free hand sliding up to pinch one of her hard nipples, rolling it between his fingers, “Papa—Smoke—Daddy—” her toes curled so tight the neon yellow nails damn near dug into her soles, ass gripping the plug like it was anchoring her through the storm. 

Smoke’s lips vibrated with another filthy mutter, “Mmm, yeah, got more fa’ me? Gimmie every drop from this fat lil’ pussy, baby. You tastin’ so damn good, keep givin’ it up,” his dick throbbed heavy against the bed, but he stayed buried in her, slurping and licking until her cries softened into whimpers, her body slumping back, spent but still twitching under his hold. 

Smoke eased off Annie’s clit with one last lingering suck, his full lips shiny from the feast, breath coming in no pants as he pulled back just enough to survey the mess he’d made of her. Annie’s pretty pussy glistened under the dim light, inner lips puffy and twitchy from his attention, juices streaked across her thighs and dripping down towards the plug nestled in her ass. Smoke pressed soft pecks all over her, trailing kisses along the outer lips, then up to the sensitive crease where her thigh met pussy, each one light and tender like he was worshiping the aftermath. 

“Damn, baby. You did so good cummin’ in Papa’s mouth,” he spoke against her skin, voice low and gravelly with that Mississippi rumble, soft lops brushing her clit in a final gentle kiss that made her twitch, “Flooded me just right…taste like heaven, all sweet and thick. My good girl givin’ it all up like that.”  

Annie let out a breathy chuckle, her chest rising and falling as she caught her breath, big titties shifting with the sound. She reached down to stroke his cheek, fingers tracing the wetness she’d smeared there, “mmm, yo’ mouth amazin’,” she drawled, soft and sated, vowels stretching lazy like warm honey, “you got me shakin’ still—lawd, wha you do to me. Ate me up.”

Smoke grinned up at her, eyes dark with hunger, then started crawling up her body slow, muscles flexing under his skin as he dragged his chest along her belly. His big dick hung heavy between his legs, brushing her thigh and leaving a trail of pre-cum, but he ignored it for now, focused on her face. When he reached her, he captured her mouth in a deep kiss, tongue sliding in to share her taste—salty and musky. Annie moaned into it, arms wrapping around his neck to pull him closer, their tongues tangling wet and unhurried, her legs hooking loose around his hips. 

While they kissed, Smoke’s hand snaked down between her thighs again, fingers finding the base of the butt plug where it stretched her tight ring. He stroked around it gentle, circling the flared end with his thumb, feeling the way her ass clenched and relaxed under the pressure. The toy was slick from her release, and he pressed lightly, twisting it just a fraction to make it shift inside her, teasing the nerves without pulling it out. 

“That feel good, don’t it?” Smoke whispered against her lips, breaking the kiss to nip at her bottom one, voice thick with lust and that sexy, country boy flare. His fingers kept stroking, rubbing firm circles over the plug’s base, dripping to trace the puckered skin around it. 

Annie shivered, nodding as she nipped back, her breath hitching, “y-yeah, Papa…feels so good,” she whispered, hips lifting a little to chase the touch. 

“Mhm, this how I’m a get up in that ass…nice and slow,” Smoke continued, voice dropping to a filthy rumble as he twisted the plug again, easing it in a shallow push-pull that made her hole flutter, “slow stroke it, baby…open you up real gentle ‘til you beggin’ for more dick,” his thumb pressed firmer, stroking the length of the toy where it met her skin, mimicking the motion he promised, while his other fingers splayed over her pussy to keep her spread, still sensitive from his mouth. 

Annie gasped into his mouth, kissing him harder, tongue flicking against his as the sensation built low in her gut again, “ohhhh, Papa…”

“Ease this ass open for Papa to fit in it, right?” Smoke growled, eyes locking on hers as he worked the plug deeper with a slow twist, feeling her muscles yield bit by bit. His dick throbbed against her thigh, leaking more as he imagined sliding in there, but he kept the pace deliberate, stroking and pressing until her breaths came quicker, body arching to take more, “Yeah, that’s it—loosen up for me, let me stretch this tight lil’ hole wide.” 

Smoke broke their kiss with a wet pop, his lips trailing fire down her jaw, nipping at the curve of her neck before dipping lower. He dragged his mouth along her collarbone, tongue flicking out to taste the salt of her skin, then zeroed in on her big titties heaving with each breath. Those heavy things rose and fell, dark nipples peaked and begging surrounded by wide areolas that begged for his attention.

Smoke latched onto one nipple first, sucking hard with a low grunt rumbling from his chest, teeth grazing the stiff bud as his tongue swirled around it in tight circles. Annie arched up, a sharp gasp escaping her as he pulled more of her breast into his mouth, devouring it like he was starved. His free hand kept working the butt plug, stroking and twisting it slow while the other reached up to grab a thick handful of her titty flesh, squeezing firm because it was his to own. 

“Mmmph,” he hummed against her skin, vibration shooting straight to her nipple as he switched sides, licking a broad stripe across the underside of her other breast before sucking that nipple deep too. Smoke grabbed both now, big hands sinking into the soft, overflowing handfuls, using them like handlebars to pull her closer, kneading and rolling the weight in his palms. His fingers dug in just enough to leave faint marks, thumbs flicking over the wet peaks he left behind. 

Grunting low, Smoke slapped her titties together with a meaty smack, watching them jiggle and bounce before burning his face right in the deep valley between them. He rubbed his cheeks against the warm, pillowy skin, inhaling her scent—warm skin, vanilla, and a trace of amber—nuzzling deep like a man possessed. Because that’s what Annie does to him. His stubble scraped lightly, adding a rough edge while he kept groaning, the sound vibrating through her chest.

Annie bit down on her lower lip, eyes half-lidded as she watched him feast, her body twisting under the onslaught. One hand threaded into his hair, holding him there, while her hips bucked faintly against the press of his fingers on her plugged ass, “you love these big ass titties, Papa?” She purred, voice thick, breathy, teasing, “they not too big for you to handle?” 

Smoke met her gaze, a wicked grin splitting his face as he gave her breasts another squeeze, thumbs circling her nipples, “Hell nah, baby. These titties perfect for me.” Smoke growled back, accent heavy like gravel under boots before diving in again to suck one into his mouth with a hungry slurp.

Smoke shifted his weight, swinging one strapping thigh over her hips to straddle her chest, his massive frame looming like a shadow above her sprawled form on the bed. Those broad shoulders and corded arms flexed as he positioned himself, knees digging into the mattress on either side of her ribs, his heavy balls settling warm and full against her breast bone. Annie’s eyes locked on his fat dick, that long, girthy shaft pulsing with veins snaking along its length, the head flushed dark and leaking a steady bead of pre-cum. 

He gripped the base of his dick, guiding it down into the deep cleft between her big titties, the soft sweat-glistened flesh yielding around him like a custom-made sheath. Her skin was slick from their sweat, a sheen of perspiration making everything glide smooth as he pressed her breasts together with his rough hands, trapping his dick in that plush valley. The fist thrust forward was slow, hips rocking to slide that veiny thickness up through the tunnel of her cleavage, the tip emerging just shy of her chin while his balls dragged heavy across her sternum.

“Oh, fuck, yeah,” Smoke groaned, voice low, that drawl thickening every word, heavy-lidded eyes boring down into hers as he started pumping steadily. Each glide smeared his pre-cum along her, mixing with her sweat to create a slippery friction that had him grunting deep in his throat. Smoke squeezed her titties harder, fingers sinking into the overflowing flesh, using them to tighten the grip around his dick as he fucked forward, the head of his dick popping out at the top of each stroke. 

Annie tilted her head up, lips parting as she poked her tongue out, catching the tip on the next upward thrust. She flicked it quick an teasing, lapping at the skit where more pre-cum welled up, her tongue swirling around the broad crown in lazy circles that made his hips stutter.

“Mmm, damn, Papa,” Annie moaned against him, voice husky and breathless, “pre-cum taste so good, just how I like it slidin’ on my tongue, mmm,” Annie sucked the tip briefly when it crested again, hollowing her cheeks before releasing the swollen head with a wet pop, then flicked her tongue side to side across the sensitive underside, tracing a vein that throbbed. 

“Mmm, titties swallowing my dick whole,” Smoke rumbled, staring down at her with raw hunger, his thumbs pressing into the sides of her breasts to mold them firmer around him. His thrusts deepened, slick sounds of skin on skin filling the bedroom—Schlick, Schlick— as his balls slapped lightly against her chest with every push, “you do soft, baby…mmm…big fuckin’ titties feel good on this fuckin’ dick, girl…got ‘em huggin’ me tight, makin’ this dick look small around all this titty-meat,” his voice dropped nastier, words tumbling out between heavy breathes, “takin’ Papa’s fat dick between these big ol’ titties—you must want me to paint ‘em up, mark you with my nut.” 

Smoke kept the pace building, hips rolling in a steady grind, one hand releasing her breast to brace on the headboard above her for leverage, letting him drive forward harder. Annie held one titty while Smoke’s other hand stayed clamped on the other, kneading it rough as he watched his shaft disappear an reappear, glistening more with each pass. Annie worked that tongue overtime—swirling broad locks around the frenulum to make him hiss, then darting out to trace the ridge before sucking greedily at his slit. 

“Keep fuckin’ these titties, Smoke…love feelin’ that big dick between ‘em gettin’ ready to bust.” 

Smoke let go of the headboard and tangled his hand in her coarse hair, holding her steady as he angled his thrusts to feed her more of the tip, his balls tightening against her skin with the building pressure. 

“That’s right, use that tongue, suck on that tip, nasty girl. Big titties got Daddy’s dick achin’ to nut but I ain’t done wit’ ya’ ass yet. Gon’ make you beg for it in that phat pussy next,” Smoke growled the words, pace quickening, the bed creaking under their weight as he lost himself in the sight of his wife beneath him, tongue lashing and breasts bouncing with every forceful glide. 

“You want this dick down your throat, baby?” Smoke rasped, voice rough and thick, hips stilling as he held her gaze, one hand loosening its grip on her breast to cup her jaw tight. 

Annie’s eyes lit up, her tongue darting out for one last teasing lick along the underside before she nodded eagerly, breath coming in hot pants, “want it stretchin’ my throat,” Annie purred back in that sultry twang, her voice husky. 

Smoke dragged his teeth across his bottom lip while smirking slightly, sliding his big dick free from between her titties. He eased off her chest, thick, toned thighs flexing as he swung a leg over and stood beside the bed, towering over her like a wall of muscle. He reached down, strong hands hooking under her arms to help her up, pulling her body upright with effortless strength. Annie scrambled into position quick, turning to drop onto all fours on the bed’s edge, knees sinking into the sheets, ass up high with that plug still nestled deep in her puckered hole. Her big titties hung heavy beneath her, swaying as she arched her back, facing him with her mouth open and waiting.

She reached out first, one hand wrapping around his heavy balls, fingers kneading the warm, wrinkled sac gently at first, then squeezing just enough to make him hiss. Her other hand braced on his muscular thigh for balance as she leaned in, lips wide to engulf the fat head of his dick. Annie sucked him in deep right away, cheeks sunken as she took half his length in one go, tongue pressing flat against the underside to stroke along the pulling vein. Slurps filled the air—wet, obscene sounds as she bobbed forward, throat relaxing to swallow more, gagging softly when the girth hit the back of her mouth but pushing on anyway. 

Smoke groaned low, his hand coming down to tangle in her hair, guiding her without forcing it, “Fuck, damn, baby. Suck that dick like that, baby. Throat takin’ me so fuckin’ good, all sloppy and wet for Papa.” 

He leaned over her slightly, his free hand cracking down on her big ass cheek with a sharp pop, the flesh jiggling under the impact, leaving a faint, purplish bruise on her dark skin. The plug shifted a little inside her from the smack, making her whimper around his dick. 

Annie pulled back with a gasp, strings of spit connecting her lips to his tip, then drove back in deeper, her head twisting side to side to tongue every inch she could reach. She swirled her tongue around the head on the upstroke, flicking the slit to coax out more pre-cum, then slurping him down again, making bubbles of spit froth at the corners of her mouth. They dripped down her chin in thick rivulets, rolling over her neck and splattering onto her swinging titties, making them shine slick as they smacked together with each forceful suck—thwack, thwack—nipples stiff and slick with saliva.

“Gahdamn, woman, you suckin’ the soul outta me,” Smoke grunted, biting his lower lip hard enough to leave teeth marks, hips bucking shallow into her mouth as she worked him. 

His big dick was iron-hard now, veins bulging against her tongue, twitching every time she sunk those cheeks to suck tight or grazed her teeth lightly along the shaft. Smoke popped that big ass butt again, harder this time, the slap echoing as her cheeks rippled. Annie moaned around him, the sound muffled by needy, her hand tugging his balls former to pull him closer. 

“That’s it, grab them nuts—work for that fuckin’ nut. Damn, this dick deep in your throat. You my nasty lil’ throat slut, ain’t you? Fuck, feelin’ too good, baby—gon’ have you chokin’ on every inch ‘fore i flip you on your back and wreck that plugged-up ass.” 

Smoke kept the dirty words flowing, voice gravelly between grunts, body tensing as pleasure coiled tight in his gut. Annie ramped it up, sucking with wet pulls—slurp, gag, slurp—her tongue lashing relentlessly, spit bubbling and dripping everywhere. Smoke’s groans turned ragged, his grip tightening in her hair, biting back a curse as her mouth pushed him right to the edge, that tight, hot suction making his knees damn near buckle. 

Smoke’s eyes locked on Annie’s face, mesmerized by the way her full lips stretched wide around his thick dick, slicing down inch by inch until her nose brushed against his trimmed pubes. He couldn’t wrap his head around how fucking incredible it felt every damn time, even after all these years with his wife. Her mouth was a goddamn vice, hot and wet, pulling him in like she was starving for it. Smoke bit down on his lower lip again, harder this time, a sharp sting cutting through the haze of pleasure as his hips twitched forward. 

His hand moved from her hair to stroke along her cheek, almost tenderly, while his other palm came down with a firm smack on her ass. The flesh wobbled under the impact. It drew a muffled hum from her throat that shot straight up his dick. 

“Fuck, suckin’ me so deep—ain’t no way this my wife doin’ this shit to me every night,” Smoke groaned, voice thick and ragged and laced with awe and raw lust.

Annie pushed forward, relaxing her throat completely now, taking him all the way to the base in one determined swallow. Her gag reflex fluttered but held, her esophagus clenching around the fat head of his dick as she held him there, nose buried against his pubes, inhaling his scent. Spit bubbled at the corners of her mouth, overflowing in thick streams that trailed down her chin. Her titties swayed with subtle rocks. 

“Just like that…just like that, hold that dick in your throat,” Smoke rasped, his fingers tightening in her hair, guiding her to stay put for a beat longer before she pulled back gasping for air. He popped her ass again, the slap ringing out sharp, leaving a warm handprint blooming on her dark skin, “That’s my woman…suck your dick like it’s the only thing you need. This your dick, baby, all yours to choke on.” 

Annie eased off with a wet pop, coughing lightly but grinning up at him through watery eyes, her tongue flicking out to lap at the underside of his dick while she caught her breath. Strings of saliva connected her lips to his glistening dick and she dove right back in, sucking him down to the base once more, holding it there with a deep, throaty gag that made his nalls draw up tight. Her other hand squeezed his sac, the heavy orbs rolling in her palm, urging him closer to the brink. 

“Good girl, throat deep like that—swallow every fuckin’ inch for your man. You my nasty lil’ throat queen, ain’t ya? Tryna drain this dick with that good neck, makin’ Papa lose his damn mind,” Smoke praised her filthy, woods tumbling out between gritted teeth as he watching her work, coils swaying as her head bobbed and her neck worked, “yeah, baby, gag on it, show me how much you love chokin’ on this meat. That’s it, hold it…hold it right there, I know you feel this dick throbbin’ in your throat.” 

Annie’s moans vibrated around him, her pussy clenching around nothing but the plug as she deepthroated him again, holding steady until her lungs burned, tears pricking her eyes from the effort. She pulled back slow this time, slurping loudly along the length, tongue pressing flat to trace every bulging vein before plunging down once more. The ache building between her legs from how turned on she was just from his reactions. 

“Gahdamn, woman, you too good at this. Pretty wife with that magic mouth,” Smoke growled, stroking her hair soothingly even as he smacked her ass harder, the sound echoing like a drumbeat, “suck it deeper, baby, make them bubbles, let that spit run all over them big titties. This dick yours, yeah? Own it, throat-fuck yourself on it ‘til I bust,” his groans deepened, body tensing as Annie ramped up the suction, holding him buried to the hilt, her throat convulsing in tight pulls that had him biting his lip damn near bloody, eyes never leaving the sight of her eating his dick up. 

From her vantage point on all fours, her gaze flicked up to his face—his chiseled jaw clenched tight, sweat beading on his deep brown skin, those intense dark brown eyes half-lidded and locked in her like she was the only thing that existed in his world. His massive chest healed with each ragged breath, muscles rippling under his thick frame, abs contracting as he fought to hold back just a second longer. Annie could feel the heat radiating off his body, his highs tensing like coiled springs, the scent of his musk in the air mixing with the tang of her own pussy in the air. 

His hips bucked shallowly, fucking her throat in short, desperate thrusts. His dick was rock-hard inside her, veins bulging like ropes under the skin, the shaft swelling even thicker as the base of his dick pressed flush against her lips. Annie moaned around him, making his balls tighten up against her chin—heavy, full orbs drawing up close to his body, churning with the load he’d been building.

“FUCK,” Smoke grunted, the word rumbling from his chest like thunder, Mississippi drawl turning it into a drawn out ‘fuuuuck’. His free hand slapped her ass again, his focus shattering as pleasure overtook him. 

His groans grew louder, animalistic, hips jerking forward as he chased the edge, “baby,” he rasped, biting his lip so hard she saw the white flash of his teeth against his soul patch, “shiit…you got me right there,” Annie’s pussy spasmed, dripping down her thighs from how turned on she was by his undoing—seeing her big, strong husband lose control because of her mouth, her throat, her everything. 

His dick pulsed harder now, the head flaring wide in her throat, stretching her even more. Annie felt his balls contract fully, pulling up tight as the first wave hit him, “I’m a give your beautiful lass what you workin’ so damn hard for, o-okay?” Smoke groaned, his voice breaking on the last word, eyes squeezing shut for a beat before snapping back to her face, watching her take it all. 

Then, he exploded. His entire body went rigid, thighs quaking as a deep, guttural ‘fuuckkkk, baby’ tore from his throat. The first rope of cum shot straight down her gullet, hot and thick, forcing her to swallow convulsively around him. From her view, his dick jerked violently in her mouth, twitching up and down, the shaft rippling as it pumped out load after load. Annie pulled back just enough to catch the next blasts on her tongue, eyes wide as she saw the veins throb visibly, the head swelling purple-red before unleashing creamy-white jets that splattered against the roof of her mouth, overflowing her lips in sticky strands. His balls pulsed with each release, contracting and relaxing, emptying themselves as cum bubbles out around her sucking lips, dripping down her chin onto her seating titties. He was so fucking hard still, even as he came—unyielding steel in her grip, only softening a fraction as the orgasm wracked him. 

“Shit…mmm, yeah, swallow it all, baby,” Smoke panted, body shuddering, sweat trickling down his temples, his shoulders slumping forward slightly as the tension bled out. 

She looks up, seeing the blissed-out haze in his eyes, his chest rising and falling in heavy waves, a satisfied grin cracking his face as he thumbed a stray drop from her lip and pushed it back into her mouth. 

“Gahdamn, woman…you sucked me dry.” 

As he pulled back, he felt the blood rushing right back in, swelling him to full mast again. Smoke stared down at her, sprawled on the bed with cum smeared on her chin and those big, doe eyes sparkling up at him. 

“Gahdamn,” Smoke muttered under his breath, shaking his head in disbelief. Technically, he knew why. His fine ass wife—Annelora Solange Boudreaux–Moore—or Annie as he called her, had that effect on him. A simple smile from her full lips, that NOLA drawl whispering his name, and BOOM, his dick was ready to go again, like it had a mind of its own. 

Smoke leaned down, capturing her mouth in a deep, appreciative kiss, his tongue sweeping in to taste the remnants of himself on her. His lips pressed firm against hers, sucking gently on her bottom lip before diving back in, swirling around her tongue. Annie moaned into it, her body arching up towards him, and he could feel the heat from her pussy radiating up, making his balls tighten anew. That kiss hit straight in the pussy, a jolt of need making her clench. 

Smoke broke the kiss with a low growl, his hand sliding up to cup her jaw, thumb brushing her lips, “mmm, that’s my girl.” 

With a firm grip of her hips, Smoke flipped her onto her back, the bed creaking under his weight as he dragged her body towards the edge, her legs dangling off. Annie let out a bubbly giggle, her big titties jiggling with the motion, that playful spark in her eyes making his dick twitch. 

“What you laughin’ at, woman?” Smoke teased, his voice a deep baritone as he looked over her, one hand pinning her thigh down while the other stroked his hardening length, “I’m ‘bout to make love to this phat pussy and wipe that smile off your face. Turn it into cries.“

Annie’s laughter softened into a husky chuckle, her voice dripping with sass as she bit her lip, gazing up at him, “you say it like that ain’t what I want, Smoke,” her words were a challenge, her pussy aching for him, the plug in her ass causing her to shift her hips, sending sparks through her.

Smoke’s smirk turned primal. His dark eyes flashed with hunger. He grabbed her ankles, strong hands wrapping around them like vices, and folded her in half with effortless power. Her knees bent towards her ears, those heavy titties squishing up against her chin, nipples hard and brushing her skin with every breath. Her feet kicked up in the air for a moment before he planted his own wide stance on the floor, ass hanging just over the edge of the bed. Smoke used his thick, muscled arms to hold her there, pinning her thighs to her sides, his broad chest pressing down to keep her locked in place. Annie gasped at the stretch, her flexibility tested but loving the way his strength dominated her, making her feel small and owned. 

Smoke lined up his thick dick at her wet hole, the fat tip nudging her swollen folds apart. Annie was dripping, phat pussy lips puffy and slick, that big clit peeking out at him. With a slow thrust, Smoke sank that big dick up in her, inch by veiny inch stretching her wide. 

“Mhm? Pussy wet as fuck, baby,” Smoke grunted, his voice breaking into a satisfied hum as he bottomed out, balls slapping against her ass where the plug base peeked out. The sensation of her tightness, combined with the pressure from th plug made his dick pulse inside her. Annie whimpered, her hands clutching at his forearms, nails digging into his skin as he filled her completely. 

“Oh, Smoke…yes, Papa,” she breathed in, eyes fluttering half-shut from the fullness. 

Smoke didn’t waste time easing in. He started pumping her with deep, powerful strokes, his hips snapping forward to drive his dick balls-deep each time, the wet slap of skin on skin echoing through the bedroom. His strength kept her folded tight, her ass lifting slightly off the bed with every plunge of that thick dick. Smoke watched her face, loving how her giggles turned to moans, her mouth falling open in those sweet cries he promised. 

“That’s it, baby girl,” Smoke leaned in closer, his breath against her ear, “take this fuckin’ dick like you know. Pussy squeezin’ me so good—fuck, you feel that?” 

Each pump built the rhythm, his thick shaft dragging along her inner walls, hitting that spot that made her toes curl. Sweat beaded on his forehead, trickling down his temple as his muscles flexed, abs contracting with the force of his drives. Annie’s titties bounced with the motion, pressing against her chin, her big clit grinding against his pubic bone on every hilt.

“Harder, Smoke…please,” Annie begged, her voice a needy whine, body trembling under his control. 

Smoke obliged, grunting with effort as he picked up the pace, pounding into her relentlessly, the bed frame rattling against the wall. 

“Gon’ fuck you ‘til you can’t walk straight, Annie. My nasty wife creamin’ all over this daddy dick.” 

His free hand slipped between them, thumb circling her clit in firm rubs, amplifying the pleasure until her cries filled the air just like he wanted. 

Annie’s eyes darted wildly, flicking from his intense face-sweat-slicked brows furrowed in concentration, those dark eyes locked on hers like he was claiming her soul—to the mesmerizing sight of his fat, slightly curved dick disappearing into her folds and emerging shiny with her cream. Annie watched it stretch her wide, the way her clit throbbed against his base on each drive, her juices painting his length in a glossy sheen that dripped down to coat his heavy sack.

“Ohhh, fuck, Smoke,” Annie gasped, voice hitching with the force of it, her neon yellow toes flexing in the air as her folded body rocked under him. Annie whimpered, her big titties heaving against her chin with each powerful stroke, nipples peaked, “yes, Papa…tear it up,” she moaned, her drawl thick and needy, eyes glazing over as she felt another wave of slickness coat him, painting his dick white even more. Her hands clawed at the sheets now while Smoke’s feee hand gripped her hip, fingers digging into her soft flesh to pull her onto him harder, his grunts mixing with the obscene squelch of her wetness. 

“Fuck, baby, you takin’ it so good. Gon’ make you cum all over this fuckin’ dick,” Smoke growled, snapping forward again, the head of his dick kissing the bottom of her pussy with a bruising force. Her cries sharpened, breath hitching in time with his thrusts. 

Smoke’s strong hands clamped around Annie’s ankles, yanking her legs high and wide, hoisting her hips clean off the bed in one fluid motion. Her ass covered there, suspended in his grip. Smoke didn’t ease up—hell nah—his thick, veiny dick plunged straight back into her creamy pussy, driving deep and relentless, the head battering her A-spot with ever unyielding stroke. The bed creaked under the force, his hips pistoning like a machine, balls swinging heavy to clap against her cheeks with sharp, echoing slaps that turned her skin a deeper shade of mahogany. 

Her big titties bounced wildly now, smacking together and swaying side to side. Annie’s face twisted into that perfect fucked-out glaze, eyes half-lidded and unfocused, mouth slack as drool pooled at the corner of her full lips, deep, dark skin sheenjng with sweat. Every inch of her looked utterly claimed, sexy as fuck while Papa Smoke wrecked her good. Annie was stupid on it, mind blanking out from the nonstop stretch and fill, her phat lips sucking him in greedily, cream frothing at the base where the joined, trickling down to soak the plug.

“Fuck yeah, take this dick, girl,” Smoke rasped, sweat dripping from his brow into her heaving chest as he hammered away, the wet squelch of her pussy louder than her gasps. His muscles flexed, biceps bulging as he held her aloft, using her body like his personal fuck toy, each thrust snapping her breath away and making her walls spasm around his girth, “so damn wet, gripping me tight, gon’ make you paint daddy whole dick and balls, fuck, this pussy goo—ahhhhh, fuuuck.” 

Annie’s voice came out shaky, trembling, breaking as another wave built fast and fierce, “Papa…I’m gon’ squirt,” Annie warned, the words slurring through gritted teeth, her body tensing in his hold, thighs quivering against his palms while her pussy clenched harder, ready to unleash.

“Don’t tell me, do the shit, push it out on this dick, baby. Go on, push f’me. That’s my gushy pussy, right? I earned that. Push it…uhuh…give Papa that wet and gushy, girl.” 

His words hit her like a spark to dry tinder, Annie’s body obeying before her mind could catch up. She bore down hard, muscles clenching in her belly and thighs, forcing the tension to uncoil from deep within. A sharp, electric jolt ripped through her pelvis first, her pussy contracting in fierce spasms around his plunging shaft, the plug in her ass adding pressure that made everything feel impossibly full and stretched. 

Then, she broke. Annie’s release hit like a floodgate shattering. Clear fluid gushed out from her in forceful spurts, soaking his dick and balls, spraying across his abdomen and dripping down to the sheets below. Her hips bucked in his hold, the sensation a wild mix of relief and exploding all at once. Every nerve lit up, dark thighs trembling uncontrollably. A high, keening moan echoed. 

Smoke didn’t stop. Fuck no. He powered through it, hips snapping forward harder, wet slaps turning even louder as her squirt lubed him up more, making his entry slicker an deeper. 

“That’s it, baby, flood this dick,” Smoke growled, his eyes locked on the mess she made, his own arousal spiking at the sight of her losing control. He angled his thrusts to rub against that spot inside her, prolonging the hush, drawing out more sprays that splashed against his skin while her body shook and quivered. Annie’s mind went hazy, the pleasure bordering on too much, wall fluttering erratically as aftershocks rippled through her, leaving her limp and gasping. 

Smoke eased his throbbing dick free from Annie’s drenched folds with a slick pop, pussy twitching from aftershocks, a trail of her squirt and his pre-cum linking them for a beat before snapping. Smoke leaned over her, lips crashing into hers in a deep, hungry, tongue kiss. Their mouths widened, tongues sliding and tangling with the taste of their own release lingering between them. 

Annie’s hand slid down instinctively, fingers wrapping around his soaked dick. She stroked him slow, feeling the veins pulse under her palm, the head still flared and leaking as she pumped from base to tip, thumb circling the ridge to tease out more of that clear bead. Her other arm looped around his neck to pull him closer, big tits pressing flat against his chest.

Smoke broke the kiss first, nipping at her lower lip, voice rough and satisfied, “Damn, you wet me up, woman.” 

Annie grinned against his mouth, “you always know where to put that dick to make me squirt.” 

Smoke chuckled low, sitting back to take her in. His hands hooked under her knees, spreading her thighs wide, exposing everything—the glossy sheen coating her inner thighs, her puffy pussy lips parted and glistening, and lower, that shiny plug nestled snug between her round cheeks, the base winking up at him. Smoke stared, hunger sharpening his gaze, one hand trailing up her calf to admire how the neon yellow on her toes gleamed in the light. 

“You ready for this, baby?” Smoke whispered, voice dropping thicker, eyes flicking to hers, “Ready for this dick deep in this tight ass? Gon’ fill you up back here, stretch you just right.” 

Annie nodded, biting her lip, her body still humming from the high, ass clenching around the plug in anticipation, “Yeah, Papa…I’m ready. Been waitin’ for it.” 

Smoke grabbed on of her ankles then, lifting it high, his lips brushing feather-like kisses along the arch, tongue flicking out to taste the salt of her skin. He worked his way up, peppering soft presses from her heel to the ball of her foot, sucking gently on her big toe for a second, making her shiver, “Papa’s here, baby,” he soothed, eyes locked on hers, warm but commanding, “Gon’ take it slow, let you get used to me slidin’ in. Breathe for me, okay? You take it so good already with that plug. Now, you gon’ feel me own that hole. 

Smoke’s fingers gripped the base of the plug, twisting it gently as he pulled, the flared end popping free from Annie’s tight ring with a wet, audible suck. Her asshole winked open for a second, a dribble of lube seeping out before it clenched back down, leaving her hole quivering and empty. Annie, gasped, hips bucking slightly, the sudden void making her clench her fists in the sheets.

“Fuck, that felt good comin’ out,” she said, voice husky, eyes heavy-lidded as she watched him. 

Smoke sat the plug aside on the nightstand with a clink, then he reached for the drawer, pulling out a fresh bottle of lube—thick, clear gel that warmer on contact—and a small towel to wide his hands. His dick bobbed heavy between his legs, slick from her pussy, veins thick and prominent, the head swollen and leaking steadily now. 

“Gon’ make this ass mine proper,” Smoke grunted low, squirting a generous dollop into his palm and slathering it over his shaft, stroking himself a few times to coat every inch, the lube making obscene squelching sounds as if mixed with her remnants.

Annie licked her lips, gaze dripping to his dick, then up to his face, “wait, baby…put on that cock ring first. Want you throbbin’ even harder when you slide in.” 

Smoke paused, a smirk tugging at his mouth, and leaned over to the bedside table, fishing out the ring from the clutter of toys and condoms. It was a thick, silicone band, jet black and stretchy, about an inch wide with a subtle ridge rubbing along the inner edge for extra grip. The top part had a smaller loop designed to circle the base of his balls, keeping everything snug and restricted, while the main ring hugged the root of his dick tight. He handed it to her, settling back on his knees, “Go ‘head, baby. Stretch it over me.” 

Annie sat up a bit, her big tits swaying as she took it, warming the silicone between her fingers. She looped the ball ring first. Sliding it down behind his sack, the material snapping lightly against his skin as it settled, pulling his heavy balls forward and low, making them hang fuller, more prominent. Then, she worked the main band over the head of his dick, easing it down the length until it locked around the base like a vice, compressing the spongy tissue just enough to trap the blood, his shaft swelling even girthier kn response. The ridge dug in faintly, a constant pressure that made the veins bulge out more, his dick looking even longer. 

Smoke hissed through his teeth as it settled, the tightness sensing a jolt to his core, a deep building ache that made his dick twitch and pulse harder, precum oozing in a thicker bead from his slit. 

“Shit, grippin’ me good,” Smoke rumbled. Flexing his hips to feel the pull and the way it restricted the flow and amped up every sensation. Like his entire length was on edge, ready to burst but held back. His balls felt heavier too, tugged forward, sensitive to the slightest brush of air. Smoke gave it an experimental stroke, the lube slicking over the ring, and groaned at how the pressure made his top hypersensitive, every glide feeling intensified. 

Annie admired her work, tracing a nail along the stretched band, watching his dick jump, “looks so fuckin’ big like that. Gon’ feel you stretch me wide, Daddy.” 

Satisfied, Smoke moved then, strong hands gripping Annie’s hips and flipping her with ease onto her back at the bed’s edge. He dragged her son until her ass hung off, cheeks spreading naturally over the mattress drop, exposing her puckered hole fully. 

“Legs up baby. Knees to your chest,” Smoke commanded, voice firm but laced with that affectionate drawl. 

Annie obeyed quickly, hooking her arms under her thighs and pulling them high, folding herself open like a present, her phat pussy lips parting above her ass, clit peeking swollen and dark while that asshole winked invitingly below.

Smoke stepped between her spread thighs, one foot on the floor for leverage, the other knee on the bed, towering over her like that. His lubed dick in hand, he pressed the blunt tip right against her rim, rubbing slow circles, smearing the gel around her entrance, feeling the heat of her hole kiss back. The ring at his base made every nudge feel sharper, his head budging insistent but not pushing in yet, just teasing, dipping shallow to let her relax around the pressure. 

“Breathe deep for me, baby. Feel that tip right there? That’s where I’m goin’. Deep as you can take.” 

Annie’s breath hitched sharp, a low whine escaping her throat as that thick tip forced her open. It burned at first, a deep, insistent stretch that made her asshole flutter an clench, trying to push him out even as her body craved more. But the lube smoothed it, turning the ache into a throbbing heat that radiated up her spine, her pussy clenching empty above in sympathy, juices trickling down to mix with the slick at her hole. Fullness bloomed inside her, pressure building like she was being split ski and thorough, every vein on his shaft dragging against her inner ridges as he sank deeper.

“Ooh, Smoke…it’s so big…stretchin’ me so wide,” her voice was thick with need, body trembling under the intensity, nerves firing wild as pleasure edged in, making her clit pulse untouched. 

For Snoke, it was pure fuckin’ heaven. The way her ass gripped him like a hot, velvet fist, tighter than her pussy ever could, sucking at his length with every careful thrust forward. The cock ring bit in at his base, amplifying everything, trapping the blood so his shaft swelled even harder inside her, every ridge and vein hypersensitive to the clench of her walls. Smoke groaned deep, the restriction making his balls draw up tight, aching with the need to bury himself balls deep. 

“Good girl, Annie…that’s my baby, takin’ Papa’s dick so good,” Smoke rumbled, eyes locked on where they joined, mesmerized by the sight of her hole devouring him. Smoke pushed another inch, feeling her yield.

The faded into a delicious fullness that made her hips twitch, wanting him all in, her ass quivering around the invading thickness. Pressure built low in her belly, pussy lips swelling further, clit throbbing as if jealous of the attention below. 

“Suckin’ me in, ain’t you? Fuck, this ass is grippin’ so tight,” Snoke growled, his hands sliding to her cheeks, spreading her wider to watch himself disappear, the sensation like fire coiling in his gut. 

Snoke rocked forward again, easing past the halfway mark, her walls rippling around him, drawing him deeper with involuntary spasms. Sweat beaded on his brow, muscles in his arms flexing as he held back, savoring the drag, the way she fluttered and fought to take him. 

“Yesss, let Papa open this ass up…you doin’ so good, baby.” 

Annie's eyes watered a bit but it was from the overwhelming rush, her body arching as much as the position allowed. Waves of pleasure rolled through her, the fullness pressing against spots inside that makes her gasp and whimper. 

“Deeper, please…feels like you rearrangin’ me,” Annie panted, voice husky, loving the way he filled her completely, every nerve alight. 

Smoke chuckled, thrusting shallow now to loosen her up, the motion sending jolts up his spine, his dick throbbing, “Gon’ fuck you ‘til you screamin’ my name. You look so beautiful like this, all opened up for me, takin’ it like a champ,” Another inch sank in, her hole stretching taut around his girth and he praised her more, words filthy and tender mixed, “There you go, my good girl…Papa’s gon’ make this hole his forever.” 

Smoke folded her up tight, knees to chest, big tits squished between them as her ass lifted higher, that stretched hole fully impaled in his dick. With a deep breath, Smoke pulled back slow, the slick drag of her ass clinging to every inch, lube squelching wet as he withdrew to the tip, her ring fluttering reluctant around the ridge of his crown. Then, he drove in again, bottoming out with a firm slap of his hips to her cheeks, the ring tapping rhythmically against her skin with each thrust, a lewd smack echoing in the bedroom. 

Annie’s ass clenched with each pass, creating a suction that tugged at his skin, making his dick throb harder. His balls tightened with the buildup, the restriction amplifying every sensation until his abs clenched, thighs burning from pleasure coiled low and fierce in his gut, urging him to go harder but holding back to savor the slide. 

Smoke looked down at Annie, his big titty wife all folded and vulnerable, lips parted in a constant moan, pussy glistening above. She looked so damn sexy like that, fucked open and taking him deep, her asshole stretched wide around his girth, the sight making his dick twitch inside her.

“Papa in that ass, baby?” Smoke rasped, voice thick, pulling out slow again, watching her hole try to follow before he sank back in, lube slurping softly around them.

Annie gasped, body shuddering with the fullness, the deep strokes hitting nerves that made her toes flex, “y-yess, Papa…all in my ass,” Annie whimpered.

“Papa making that ass feel good, huh?” Another slow pull-out, then plunge, Smoke’s body buzzing, muscles flexing as he held her folded, the sensation of her tightness making his pulse race.

“Oh, fuck, yes…feels so full, so good stretchin’ me,” Annie panted, her big tits bouncing slightly with each stroke, pussy dripping onto his balls below, the pressure building inside her like a storm. 

The way she bit her lip had Smoke locked on her face, picking up the pace just a fraction, the wet sounds growing louder, “you like big dick in your butt, don’t you?” Smoke pressed, voice dropping low and commanding, hips rolling to bury himself fully, the glide of her insides stroking him perfect. 

“Mmm, love it, Smoke…love that big dick fillin’ my butt,” Annie confessed breathlessly. 

Smoke eased out just enough to reposition. He locked eyes with her, voice dropping to that commanding growl, “hold your ankles, baby. Grip ‘em tight for me.” 

Her hands reached down to wrap around her ankles, pulling her legs wide and back, filing herself deeper. Her phat pussy lips parted more. Smoke leaned back on his knees, hands on her thighs for leverage, admiring how she looked splayed out, big tits heaving.

“Now, Papa ‘bout to go faster. Gon’ fuck this ass open real good, okay? You gotta keep these legs open, Annie. That’s the only way I’m a fuck this ass how you want it, understand? You gotta do as you told to get what you want, baby. Say, yes sir.” 

“Y-yes, Sir,” Annie spoke breathlessly. 

Smoke’s hips snapped forward harder, pace building, each plunge pulling her rim taut around his shaft, the lube letting him slide in and out with obscene slaps, balls swinging to tap her cheeks. The cock ring smacked against her skin louder, that big dick pistoning full length, from tip to base, her insides rippling in protest and pleasure, gripping him like a vice that loosened just enough with every drive. 

One hand shot up to grab a handful of her big titty, fingers sinking into the soft flesh, kneading rough as he pinched her nipple between thumb and forefinger, rolling it firm. His other hand dipped lower, thumb circling her big, phat clit, stroking over it in a firm circle, the nub hard and pulsing under his touch. Annie bucked at the contact, a fresh gush of wetness coating his fingers, her ass clenching down on his dick in response. 

When his thumb pulled back, a thick, slimy trail of her arousal stretched her clit to his skin, glistening in the light, pussy absolutely soaked, juices trailing down to mix with the lube around his base. Smoke’s eyes heated at the sight, his thrusts picking up speed, pounding deeper.

“Damn, baby, you so fuckin’ wet,” his thumb dipped back to swipe through her slick again before returning to rub her clit steady, “yeah, you feelin’ good.” 

The dual assault in her ass and clit sent shocks through her, “yes, Papa…feels fuckin’ amazin’ stretchin’ and fuckin’ me so deep with that big ass dick,” Annie’s walls spasmed around him. 

Smoke’s rhythm shifted, his body coiling like a predator ready to unleash. Smoke released her ankle grip with a firm pat on her thigh, but she kept them hooked tight, legs splayed obscenely, her plush frame pinned open for him. Rising up, Smoke planted his fists on either side of her hips, knuckles digging into the mattress, toes curling for balance as he shifted into that push-up stance, his massive, muscled frame hovering dominant over her softer curves—broad shoulders, flexing, abs rippling under sweat-slicked skin, that thick dick still buried deep in her ass, twitching with anticipation.

“Papa, gonna power through this tight ass. Take every inch of this dick,” Smoke’s hips drew back smooth, pulling halfway out with a slick drag that made her rim flutter,,5$3! He dropped forward, powerful thrusts slamming his full length back in, balls slapping heavy against her ass with a stinging smack. 

The sensation exploded for Annie, that relentless drive hitting deeper, sending jolts up her spine. She was stuck, body locked in place under his bulk, the air punched from her lungs. No words formed, just a fractured gasp escaping her lips, her mouth falling open in silent shock as the pleasure bordered on overwhelm, ass clenching futilely around his big dick.

Smoke didn’t let up, hips pistoning smooth and forceful, each drop of his body driving that thick ass dick deep. His bulky strength pinned her without even touching, the sheer power of his thrusts rocking her tits wildly.

“Breathe through it, Annie,” Smoke rasped, voice steady despite the strain in his clenched jaw, eyes never leaving her face, watching every twitch, every helpless quiver, “you takin’ this dick so good, baby. Feel that burn turn sweet? Yeah, let it build, baby. Papa’s got you…making this ass mine, fill you up ‘til you can’t think straight. All you gon’ do is let me fuck this ass? This my tight–fuckin’–ass, baby? Who this ass belong to—”

“You! Fuuuuck—ssss—Smoke!—nnghhhhh—ahh-ah-ah—”

All she could manage were shards of sound—tiny, broken moans fracturing into whimpers, incoherent hums vibrating from her throat as he fucked her silent, plush body yielding under his torture. The friction built fire in her belly, walls spasming erratically, milking him as he powered on, taking her ass. 

“All quiet and took,” Smoke continued, breath ragged, hips snapping faster, the head of his dick battering her depths, “Just feel it. Moan for Daddy if you can, but I know you deep in it now, thick ass built for this dick—Gon’ make you cum from this alone, watch you bust all over me,” his muscles bulged with the effort, sweat beading down his chest, but Smoke held steady, dominating her completely, turning her into a vessel of raw, wordless ecstasy. 

Smoke sank deeper into her, that tight grip of her ass pulling him under like quicksand, every slide in and out blurring the edges of his control. Smoke grunted low. Lost in the slick drag and the way she yielded and fought back all at once, “fuck, Annie,” he muttered through gritted teeth, his voice a rough drawl this with pleasure, “this ass got me hooked…grippin’ my dick up tight, baby, you take big dick in the ass just how I knew you would…fuck, look at this shit…” 

Below him, Annie’s body betrayed her in the best way, her pussy clenching on empty air, untouched but alive with fire. The pressure built in her core, a tidal wave she couldn’t hold, her clit pulsing hard without a single brush. Annie couldn’t wrap her head around it—him buried only in her ass, pounding steady, and here she was, teetering on the edge of release, juices gathering hot and insistent. Her thighs trembled in her own hook, neon yellow toes curling into the soles of her feet as the first warning spasms hit. 

Smoke caught the shift in her eyes, that wide, desperate gleam and adjusted quick, hands sliding up to brace firm on the backs of her thighs, prsssing them wider, folding her deeper into herself. His hips kept rolling, powerful and relentless, slamming that full length home with each thrust, the cock ring bumping her, teasing without mercy. The bed creaked under them, his bulky frame driving down, muscles bunching in his arms and chest as he held her open, fucking her tight ass with a precision that bordered on savage—deep strokes that stretched her rim wide, filled her to bursting. 

Eyes locked tight on hers, dark and fierce, Smoke wasn’t messing around, reading every flicker on her face like a map to her breaking point, “what’s that look, baby?” He rasped, breath uneven, hips snapping forward again, balls tapping with each descent all heavy and sticky with lube and her juices, “you feelin’ it coming? Tell Big Daddy what’s got you shakin’ like that…”

Annie’s mouth worked but the words tangled, coming out in fractured bursts, “S-S-Smoke, oh, God, I’m—gonna…I’m gonna…s-s-squirt,” her voice a high, breathless whine, barely audible over the slick sounds of him claiming her. Annie arched as much as she could under his weight, pussy lips quivering, the convulsion turning to a flood she couldn’t stop, her whole body tensing like a bowstring. 

Smoke grinned feral through his clenched jaw, thumbs digging into her soft flesh to hold her steady, “yeah? From this dick in your ass? That’s my girl—let it go, Annie. Squirt all over me, soak me wit’ all that pussy juice while I tear this up,” his thrusts picked up, relentless, the head of his dick grinding her depths, pushing her right over as her warning disabled into a sharp cry, her release hitting hard and sudden. 

Smoke’s voice dropped low and commanding, cutting through the haze of her building storm like a lifeline, his words wrapping around her as tight as his grip on her thighs, “That’s my good girl, squirt all over me, you holdin’ that cum in my pussy now push it out, let it out on me, girl, I’m a keep fucking this ass, I know that,” Smoke drove in harder, the thick base of his dick stretching her rim with every plunge, the ring at his root grinding against her, sparking those empty clenches into overdrive. 

Annie’s body shattered under the pressure, her pussy contracting wild and fierce, the first hot gush erupting from her in a forceful spray that arced up, splattering his abs and the sheets below, “Ooooooo, FUCK, Smoke! Oh lawwdddd—I’m squirtin’!” Annie cried out, voice cracking high in that lilt, juices pulsing out in rhythmic bursts, drenching her thighs and his heavy balls slapping against her. Smoke was glossed up with all that liquid that shot from her pussy. Annie had droplets of it rolling over her dark skin. 

Smoke watched it all, eyes burning into hers, “Hell yeah, look at you go, baby…my dirty lil’ squirter soakin’ everything like a good wife s’ppose to. Keep cummin’, baby, I know you got more in that phat pussy,” his muscles flexed, holding her folded and exposed, letting her ride the peak while he claimed her ass, the wet slaps echoing louder over her gasps. 

Then, with a forceful pull, Smoke eased his throbbing length free from her ass, the sudden emptiness hitting her like a shockwave, her ring fluttering open, greedy and denied, sending a fresh surge through her pussy. Another jet shot out, stronger this time, spraying across his chest as she bucked, the sensation of him withdrawing amplifying the aftershocks, her walls spasming hard on nothing. 

“Shit—S-Smoke, pullin’ outta me like t-that…more’s comin’! Fuuuucckkkk,” Annie whimpered, hips jerking involuntarily, the flood unrelenting. 

Quick as lightning, Smoke’s hand cracked down on her ass cheek, a sharp pop that stung hot and made her yelp, the flesh jiggling under the impact, “stay still, girl—Daddy gon’ clean you up,” Smoke growled, the dominance in his Mississippi drawl thick as cold grits, bending his broad frame forward without missing a beat. His mouth descended on her drenched pussy, tongue diving in flat and broad, lapping up the mess with hungry, slurping strokes that dragged from her pussy hole to her swollen clit. 

Smoke sucked her folds into his mouth, tongue swirling through the slick release, tasting her sharp and sweet cleaning every inch with flicks and probes, “Mmm, fuck, you taste like heaven after a squirt,” Smoke muttered against her pussy lips, the vibrations shooting through her sensitive flesh as he delved deeper, nose bumping her clit while his lips puckered at her entrance, sealing around her hole, drawing out more creamy wetness with greedy pulls that made her eyes cross. Annie’s hands flew to his head, fingers gripping coarse curls, thighs quivering. 

Smoke’s tongue pulled away from her soaked pussy with a final, greedy suck, leaving her glistening and twitching in the aftermath. Without a word, his eyes locked on hers. Smoke shifted his hips forward, the fat head of his dick pressing against her still-gaping ass. He pushed in slow at first, the thick shaft sliding through her slick ring, stretching her wide again as she gasped, her body yielding to the familiar burn. Inch by inch, he sank deep, burning himself balls deep. 

One hand planted firm on the back of her thigh, keeping her ass elevated and open for him. His other hand snaked between them, thumb finding her swollen clit, rubbing firm circles over the hard nub. Smoke didn’t ease in. Once seated fully, he started thrusting sharp and relentless, hips snapping forward to drive his full length into her ass with punishing force, pulling out his enough to slam back in, the wet smack of skin on skin filling the bedroom. 

Her big tits bounced wildly across her chest. The bed rocked under them, frame knocking hard against the wall as his pace turned savage, muscles in his arms and back bulging. 

“Yes, Papa, push that big dick in me—YES! Feels so good, mmm, yes, you fuck all my holes so fuckin’ good—make that dick cum, YES!” 

Smoke stayed silent now. Only grunts escaped his lips—deep, guttural sounds that vibrated through his chest as he pounded her ass without mercy. His thumb pressed harder on her clit, feeling her pulse throb under his touch. Skin sweat-slicked and hot to the touch as he chased his release, the pressure building in his balls, heavy and full, ready to unload deep inside of her. Her praises fueled the fire as her tits jiggled erratically, body trembling on the edge of another peak from the dual assault.

“Mmm, that big dick throbbin’ inside…you fuck me better than any man, love how you make my ass grip that big dick…”

“Don’t stop, Smoke—balls slapping my ass got me leakin’ everywhere. You my king, poundin’ this ass right, Daddy!” 

“Fuck, baby, I can feel you swellin’…give it to me…shoot that nut deep…that’s my man…my dick…I’m yours to fuck…yes…nnghhh…oh, Smoke, yes—”

Smoke’s thrusts turned even more ferocious. That dick was throbbing like iron inside Annie, heavy with a load he was about to bust. Smoke grabbed her thighs roughly, forcing her legs up higher, her knees hooked up near her ears like earmuffs, holding her in half and exposing every inch of her. Her pussy lips parted obscenely as he drilled into her ass with savage, piston-like strokes, the head of his dick battering deep, stretching her ring to its limit with each punishing plunge. 

Annie’s body quivered uncontrollably, the pressure building on her stomach until it shattered, her orgasm ripping through her like lightning, pussy leaking a fresh gush of slick cum down her crack, soaking his balls as they slapped against her. Annie moaned loud and broken, whimpers spilling from her lips in a frantic song, big titties mashed against her knees.

A deep growl rumbled from Smoke’s throat, his eyes locking onto hers wildly, “Baby, babe, I’m a fuckin’ nut in this ass—I’m’bout to fill this ass up, fuuuck—say my fuckin’ name, say who fuckin’ you like this.” 

Annie’s voice cracked through the haze of pleasure, “Elijah, fuck, Elijah, yes—you fuckin your wife like this. Can’t nobody fuck me like you do, Papa…”