forest

"What an intriguing device this is... I wonder what it can be used for?"

'Sir John' raised a brow, crossing his legs as he sat on a sofa, twisting a clicker in his hand, observing how it fit in his palm. It was quite small compared to his hand, and his thumb fit just right against the button. He was teasing, of course; he knew what to do with it, but it was fun to mess around with you. After all, he did find it in one of your drawers.

"Actually, I think I have a hunch. I've seen this used before, but I didn't think it could be used on humans. How entertaining. I think I'm going to have a lot of fun with this. Let's see if you can be a good girl for me and get down on your knees."

He laughed, and you rolled your eyes, reluctant, but for the sake of entertaining him, knelt in front of him. 'Sir John' smirked, his hand coming to your cheek, fingers cradling it. Then with his other hand, he clicked the device.

"Oh, good job, my dear. Here, have a treat." He praised, kissing her. "Let's try that again. Shall we? Crawl over."

'Sir John' instructed, standing up from the couch and taking a few steps away, creating a little distance, enough to test you. Rebellious at first, but spun forward by the desire to please him and get another kiss, you dragged yourself closer on your knees, eyes up on him.

"Are you happy now?"

He clicked the device, grinning in satisfaction. "Oh, what a good girl you are. I should reward you, shouldn't I? Mhm, I'll see it done." And he leaned in, placing another kiss, this time on your temple.

You wanted to scoff and get up, but before you could, 'Sir John' spoke again.

"You're doing so well. I'm so proud of you. How about this time you put your hands on my belt? Think you could do that, my dear?"  

"Smug ass."

"I can't reward that, love." He remarked, tapping his foot rhythmically on the floor, pointing at the spot in front of him. "Come here, my dear, and work on my belt."

You squinted up at him, but didn't find it in your heart to refuse him, so your hands clung to his belt, and he watched, hands behind his back, clicker clutched in one. "That's it. I love it when you act like this. You're such a good girl. You deserve so many rewards. Here..."

And once again, he leaned down and kissed you. A soft touch of his lips on yours. Sweet enough to cause a soft whimper from your lips, but short-lived enough to turn that whimper into a whine. "Do you think you're a smart girl and can do another? Because I think you are, yeah? Let's go for another one. How about you unbuckle my belt this time?"

You thought less about it this time, and your hands worked on him, in hopes that the next reward would come swifter. He figured that was the case and looked down at you as you fumbled with it, until it came undone. When it did, he clicked his toy again. "That's a good girl. It feels like you've been trained to do this all your life."

You reached up for the kiss, but he pushed you down by the shoulder. "Hey. Not so fast. I reward you when I think you've done enough." He scolded, causing you to pout. "I need you to touch it through the boxers. And then you'll get your reward."

At his instruction, you nodded and pressed your palm against him, fingers tracing the contours of his size. 'Sir John' closed his eyes for a moment, strengthening his resolve and clenching his fist around the toy to control himself.

Then he clicked it.

You glanced up at him excitedly, and he at last rewarded you with a kiss. Eager to get more of this, you tried to cling to his boxers and pull them off when he pulled away from the kiss, but he frowned and stepped back.

"I didn't give you an order yet. You need to respect that. Only act when I tell you to."

"But I just-"

"I can only reward good behaviour."

You pouted again, and he pointed at the ground next to him. Familiar with this command by now, you stepped in front of him again and heard the click, confirming you behaved again.

"You still have something to learn, my dear. And that something is patience. I know, you're so eager to be a good girl for me, but you need to hold back sometimes, okay? Let's go for another now."

'Sir John' pointed to his boxers and you, recalling his command from before, pressed your palm against his bulge, earning a grunt from him and the click. But like the last click, you didn't get a reward, so you shifted impatiently, eager to keep pleasing him, waiting for your turn to be praised.

He noticed and pinched the band of his boxers, pulling them a little lower, enough that his tip was poking out of them. You glanced at it, then up at him, then down at it again, waiting to hear what 'Sir John' wanted you to do about it.

"Oh, I know, I know, my boxers are in the way, but it doesn't matter now. Does it? You can still taste it even if just the tip is out. Come on, kiss it."

The practice achieved its goal because as soon as you heard the command, you leaned in and kissed his tip, eyes up on him, all the more eager. This time, as he clicked the device, he rewarded you too. He reached down with one hand, the other still behind his back with the clicker, and grabbed your chin, guiding it up as he leaned in and kissed you. It was a longer, needier kiss that edged on making out. Yet right as you were about to press into it, to lose yourself in it, he drew back again.

"Oh, each time I'm amazed by how well you behave. You are so good. Let's take those boxers off now. You're so eager to please me."

You reached down in a rush, tugging down his trousers and boxers alongside them, yet right as you were about to lean in and overdo it by kissing his cock, you remembered the scolding and stopped yourself. 'Sir John' noticed and clicked proudly.

"That's right, darling. Not yet. I didn't tell you what to do. Don't jump to action without my order. You learned. Good girls hold back when I say so, yeah?"

You nodded quickly, swallowing the knot in your throat as you waited, like an eager puppy for another order. 'Sir John' gazed down, first at your compliant eyes, then at his hardening erection, and then a quiet laugh left his lips.

"We'll have a lot of fun with this thing tonight."

Click.

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“I’d say that our Lavender Apple Pie is the one that everyone should try when stopping through Chicago this autumn! I’m certain it’s what will make everyone fall in love with our bakery!” 

She giggles at her use of the worn-out pun, and your lips stretch so hard your cheekbones push up your glasses.

Your bottom lip makes an uncomfortable, silent pop! at the pull, and you taste metallic seep onto your tongue. Of all the days to misplace your lip balm in your other coat.

Your fingers tightly grip your 0.9 ballpoint pen. Yes, 0.9, because the 0.5 always snaps too easily, and the 0.7 scratches right through your notebook pages.

This big, fat 0.9 blue pen is the only one that can withstand the pliable aggression that seems to always materialize in your grip, in moments like these. 

“Grip my hair a little tighter, baby, come on.” He whispers into your neck. 

Right.. In moments like those, too. You shake your head, not right now.

You hadn’t seen him since that night four months ago, when you stole him for a small interview for your music column after he performed at some summer festival.

A video that shouldn’t have taken more than 15 minutes ended with you leaving three hours later. 

You wonder how many times he's done that. How many girls he pressed up against the bed in his tour bus and fucked her like it would be the last time he’d ever.

It didn’t matter then, though, because your off-handed jokes of “I just need two hours with that man, that’s it!” Had suddenly come into fruition, and by the grace of your spirit guides, you were given the extra hour. 

He stuck his hands into your psyche and pulled out a side of you, you didn’t know existed. He held you as if he knew you, moved inside you like all he could ever need was you.

He knew your body better than you did, whispering words into your skin that sounded as if they'd been just for you. 

So much so that when it was all said and done and you were sent on your way, it hurt more than you thought it would.

Despite knowing the way that shit goes. And as cliché as it sounds, you hoped that you were burned somewhere deep in his mind, the same way he was in yours. 

The chances of you seeing him again are slim to none. You’re in Chicago, and he’s somewhere, caught up in California. 

You had hoped that when you posted the interview to Instagram and tagged him, he’d be first in your DM’s, wanting another go.

But again, that’s not how this shit goes. To add salt to the wound, it didn’t even give you the big break you'd been hoping for at your job.

They wanted an A-list, not a B. And it sent you back to “wet behind the ears” story pitches, despite your columns being the best in your unit. 

You’d woken up the next morning in your bedroom, citrus and earth still clinging to your nose and body.

You remember the way it wrapped around you when in his sheets, getting lost in it when he begged you to suck up his throat.

It was stronger there, warm in the crease of his neck. You couldn’t forget that scent if you tried. 

“Not yet, baby. You can hold on a little longer, can’t you?”

He murmured against your lips, using his thumbs to wipe your tears as he rolled his hips in a slow pace. Ruining your pending orgasm for the third time.

“Gonna make you feel so good, I promise.” 

And he kept that promise.

You’d never been fucked that good in your life, and damn it, he should take responsibility for it. He’s the reason for this, making you feel like some hung-up groupie.

Not even for his name, but for how he made you feel that night. If you had just two more hours, you’d—

The tape recorder clicks, the end of the tape, and you straighten up, eyes snapping out of its hazy focus. 

Mrs. Tweedle jolts, too. She was probably still talking by the looks of it. Scraps of big apple red bigger than it was a moment ago. 

Your patience is little to none as of late, having been tested beyond its limits.

Your potential is being wasted on a story that someone who’s been in the industry for half the time you have, should be doing.

But you can’t just barge into your boss's office, slam the expensive black coffee (three sugar, four cream, that he insists you get for him every morning at 7am on the dot) onto his desk, and demand more. 

Maybe even thrown the damn drink in his face. So instead, you smile, that same, tight-lipped smile that just split your bottom lip, and carry on. 

“Oh dear, looks like I’ve talked the recorder out.” She presses a hand to her mouth to suppress a hearty chuckle. Your eye twitches. 

“No worries, Mrs. Tweedle–” 

“Please, call me Bertha.” 

“Right.. No worries, Bertha. Thank you for your time.” You click your pen back in and begin tucking your belongings into your cross-body bag.

A brown leather vintage piece, Cat gifted you after you graduated. You’re sure it cost her a pretty penny, and you’ve spent months trying to figure out how much to pay her back.

Eventually, you stopped nagging when she threatened to stop doing your nails for free. And well, some things just aren’t worth the sacrifice. 

“Once I write up the story, I’ll send you the final draft for review.” You tap your nails; shiny, black, and almond, against the recorder, “It’s a miracle this thing is still working.”

You slip it into your bag and hastily stand up. If you’re in here a minute longer, you’ll throw up lavender and red polish. 

“I have your email. We’ll be in touch. Have a great evening, Mrs. Twe- Bertha.” You shuffle out of the booth before she can respond, and scurry out the doors.

Early October’s chill cools the sweat that's pooling at your neck, and you sigh as you take off your glasses. It was too warm and stuffy in there.

You need a shower and a drink. And sex.

You make it to your car when your phone rings. It’s Cat. 

“Hey, wanna go for drinks tonight?”  and just like that, you're once again in your best friend's debt. 

“Yes, please,” You check your watch, quarter past eight. “Pick me up at ten?” 

“See you then! Mwah!” 

¥

Cat is many things; she’s kind, loud, ready to land a few punches on your behalf if you ask, and utterly devoted to the people she deems close. She loves you more than words, which is why she can be a bit too blunt for her own good. 

Your feelings be damned, she’ll tell you how it is and justify it before you can get a word in, making you feel just as stupid, if not more, than before.

So you weren’t expecting hugs and kisses after you told her about your Dominic debacle. 

Even now, after explaining to her how your boss is letting the new snobby intern snuff out your stories left and right. 

Though it would have been nice...

“Well, that’s shitty,” She mutters, chin resting on the palm of her hand as she leans into your space. Her braids sweep over her shoulder, and cascade down in waves. 

“You’re telling me,” you scoff into the rim of your glass, rolling your eyes before knocking back the rest of your lemon drop. 

“Blond and blue eyes?” 

“Blond and blue eyes.” You give her a side eye, then both of you lean into eachother with giggles. 

“Yeah, she’s probably fucking him.” Cat laughs, popping the cherry off her Old Fashioned, onto her tongue.

Pushing up onto the counter, you rest your temple on your knuckles, waving the bartender over for another martini, already feeling the knots loosen out of your shoulders. 

You sweep your eyes around the bar; it’s one of the nicer lounges residing deep in Chicago’s house music district. Upscale and sleazy. People sway to the music, loud enough to feel it, but soft enough for conversation. 

Lawyers in booths, their blazers tossed over the back, white button-ups rolled over their elbows– a little bit of everyone fills up the space. 

Your gaze passes over a group of girls surrounding a girl with glittered eyeshadow, a “Birthday Bitch!” crown lopsided on her head as she throws back a shot.

Then you settle on a man who was tucked into a corner. 

Hollow spreads across your chest. He was already staring in your direction, nursing a half-empty glass of something dark. His eyes remain sharp and unmoving despite being caught.

And you’d remember that face anywhere.

It's him.

He’s there, right there across from you, and you feel your heart drop to your ass. Your foot shakes against the side of the stool, and he catches it, eyes drinking up the anxiety seeping out of your body. 

You don’t have time to think about soaking it all back in when his lips curl into a smile. The same one he used to coax you into his bed all those months ago.

Your head spins. 

You part your lips to say what? “Hey, long time no see, please fuck me again. Thanks!”

He’s across the room and wouldn’t be able to hear you, but the sudden throb between your thighs is crossing out rationality. You need to say something. Anything at all to–

A poke to the back of your neck, and you jump, swiveling your barstool around. 

“You good?” Cat asks, eyebrow arched. You glance over your shoulder, back into that corner, and he’s gone.

Of course, and maybe it's for the better.

The moment you shared couldn’t have been more than a minute, and you were ready to bend any which way if he asked. Right then and there, an audience be damned.

You breathe out, “Yeah, yeah, all good.” The bartender slides you a new lemon drop, and you dance your finger around the rim to scrape off the sugared coating. 

Cat narrows her eyes. You know that look; she doesn’t believe you, and questions are brewing.

You’d ran her dry with every possible scenario of seeing Dom again, she wouldn’t bat an eye if you told her you saw him here.

She’d probably pat your head in pity, acknowledging you had a few too many drinks. 

No, thank you.

“So how’s everything going? Nia finally out of the picture, right?” You cut in. Cat’s lips quirk up, head dropping at the mention of her infuriatingly hot, but shitty ex-girlfriend.

Mission accomplished, but annoyance takes the place of victory at her hesitance to respond. You throw your hands up, the bangles stacked on your wrists clattering, “Cat?!” 

“I know, but wait, hear me out!”  

Cat’s excuses finally wrung out. You found yourselves moved from the bar, sinking into the plush red velvet couches placed around the lounge.

You’re a bit out of breath, having danced around an hour after your last drink. Contentment settles over your bones, the night finally having a start. 

“So, where to next?”  You twist around the rings on your finger, hoping she’ll want to check out the new bar across the way, but furrow your brows when she begins to gather herself up.

She swipes at the sweat that’s started coating her forehead, edges coiling up.  

“Where to next? I have work in the morning. My nine am wants a nail design from hell. I need to mentally prepare.” 

You huff a laugh, but reach out towards her, drunk and a little sore, but still itching to move to the Kaytranada beat playing overhead.  

“What, no!~.”

“No, nothing, not everyone took off work the next two days.” She laughs, standing up from the couch, and rummaging in her purse for her keys.

“You coming with me?”

You probably should go home, end the rest of the night with takeout from your favorite Chinese spot, and Supernatural reruns. It’s familiar, a cozy nest of comfort and predictability. 

Under normal circumstances, yes would have rolled off your tongue, but you were waiting, hopeful for something. For him.

You don’t even know if he’s still here, but you danced like you had an audience. Subtly keeping your head on a swivel, hoping to lock eyes with him again, but to no avail.

Every corner, every tucked-away spot, remained vacant. 

“Nah, think I’ll linger around a little bit.” You lazily turn on your side, draping your right leg over the left, “A few more moments of bliss before reality sinks in again.”  

Cat's face softens, “You sure?” You wave her off,  “Promise, now go before I start searching for that bag’s price tag again.” 

She groans, “You wouldn’t.” 

“Go!” 

“Okay, okay, text me when you get home, love you!” She leans in to kiss your forehead, then scurries towards the exit. 

Your head thuds back against the couch, a lopsided smile on your lips. Over ten years of that, and it never fails to fill you with warmth. 

It's quiet around you again, despite the bass. No more banter, or a thigh for you to drape your legs over.

For a moment, you let your eyes fall, watching as a girl clumsily tangles herself with a man who looks just as inebriated as she is.

They have matching neck tattoos, and you squirm when she leans over to press a wet kiss where his is under his ear.

The look he gives her promises just what she’s asking for, and then he’s dragging her towards the back of the club, out of sight. 

You shiver and avert your eyes. That must be nice.

A beat passes, and you tap your acrylics together. The music fades into another house beat, and the bar grows more crowded. You should have just gone home; this isn’t an A24 movie; he’s not showing up. 

With a defeated sigh, you pull out your phone and gear up to call an Uber. Your head felt as if it could roll off your shoulders, the last lemon drop you downed nesting itself comfortably into your nervous system. 

A blunt would be nice right now, too; you have a few rolls left, just what you need. 

Just as your thumb goes to call a ride, the cushions next to you sink slowly, and your shoulders tense. Solid and dark out of the corner of your eye, his presence makes your stomach churn.

You know who it was, but can’t will yourself to look, not yet. Not when your heart is hammering against your ribs, as if it’s trying to break from its bone cage and fall into his hands in a bloody plop.

Long and drawn out, his exhale ghosts over your neck, making you shiver. How close is he? The breath sounds bored, waiting.

You sit frozen. Get yourself together! You silently scream.

The cushions shift, and his body heat moves away, icing you out. Was he about to leave?  

Your head snaps up as if controlled by strings. Of course, he’s already watching, waiting for you with a knowing curl on his upper lip, and eyes glinting. 

“I wasn’t going anywhere.” His voice settles deep into your bones; it’s nasally, and it sounds just like you remember. 

His eyes are still sharp, but glossy and round—a telltale sign of a drink or three.

The air's suddenly prickling with static, making you hyperaware of every breath you struggle to take in. You swallow, but it’s hard to get down.

You feel like you’re right back on that tour bus. 

Your lips part as he trails up your body, as if trying to etch you into his memory again. Black pants sit low on your hips, and a thin top that stops right where the pants kiss your hip.

It’s everything you’d hoped for.

The primal attention that makes anyone on the receiving end of it feels like the luckiest woman alive, and you’re soaking in it.

Unable to handle the weight of his stare, you shift, and that calculated attention snaps up to your face. Your mouth moves before you tell it to. 

“Hey,” you breathe. 

“Hi,” he grins, eyes crinkling. You wonder if he even remembers you, but then he brings a hand up to your shoulder and softly tugs at the loose fabric of your shirt.

He pulls it down to reveal more of the wispy tattoo starting at your neck and trailing to your fingers, and that doubt goes away. 

His large, veined hands are cold, and goosebumps awaken down your arm as his fingers trace over your ink, just like he did back in July. 

“What are you drinking?” You clear your throat, regaining a bit of your voice. The short glass he holds is full. He pulls his fingers away from your arm,  and you almost mewl at the loss. 

“Spiced rum,” He swirls the glass, sloshing the liquor. “Wanna taste?” Before he can say anything else, you nod.

You know what spiced rum tastes like, but he’s offering, and you’ll agree to anything he asks right now.

He makes you work for it; you have to use a bit of your strength to pull the glass away. 

He snickers; you roll your eyes. 

At the first sip, your lip gloss leaves a pink frosted kiss on the rim. The rum’s spicy, wraps your tongue in notes of toffee and dried plum. Nothing like the spiced rum you’ve had before, this is expensive shit.

It practically melts down your throat, and you do nothing to stop the small moan you hum.

“Good?” he tilts his head, grinning. 

You take another sip, shudder, then roll your shoulders back. Small talk, you’re good at that. It’s your fucking job, for God's sake. 

“I know what rum tastes like.” You shrug, “Nothing I haven’t had before. But it’s pretty good.”  His eyebrow raises, and you notice a piercing glint under the colored lighting above the couch. Oh, that’s new. 

“Got it, so you just wanted to press your lips where mine were, then? That it?” He nods towards the glass, and your lips part, neck suddenly feeling too hot for the hair falling around it.

His grin widens, and you hate how beautiful it looks. 

Still, it doesn’t stop your scoff, “Fuck off.” It comes out airy, with no bite. 

You turn your head and lift your chin, having to see it through now, but he still hasn’t outright said he remembers you. So the attitude isn’t completely in vain. 

He kisses his teeth and plucks the glass from your hand. 

“Come on, don’t be like that.” He throws an arm along the back of the couch and spreads out.  "You remember how good you were for me last time, don’t you?” 

Oh.

Your heart thrums. He remembers, and from the sound of it, that night’s been burned deep into his mind just like it has yours.

You turn to face him, already thinking of ways you could worm your way back under him, but the words die in your throat.

You catch as his tongue swipes out to wet his lips, then he drags it along the rim of the glass, licking off your lip gloss smear in one go.

You heard it before you saw it: the clink of metal hitting the cup, a small silver ball in the middle of his tongue showing through the glass. 

A fucking tongue piercing, that’s new too. What the hell happened over these past months? 

Your body sizzles with an untamed heat. Never have you wanted to pounce on him more than you do right now. 

“Vanilla, right?” He husks, placing the glass on the table in front of you. You take in the sudden deep rise and fall of his chest; his voice seems to have left him. “I remember smelling that everywhere I went after you left.” 

“Mm-mm, no.” Lying, you look down at his lips, “Try again.” His hand comes down to rest on the curve of your ass, thumb sliding into your pants to rest over your hip.

His lips are a breath away from where they should be. Tension thick, and sucking the air out of your lungs with a permission you’d give again and again. 

He knows it’s vanilla, you can tell by the way he digs his thumb hard into your hipbone in warning. You push up against it. 

“You know how hard it was to forget you? I smelled you on my lips for days, aching to just fucking taste you again.” His fall into your hands wasn't expected; you thought you'd have to work for it, so this is a welcome surprise.

You’re quivering with the need to take him back to your place. Mind beginning to black out at the edges, a wave of confidence oozing from you, at his blatant need for you. So you act on it before it can slip away. 

“You missed me?” You slide your hand around his neck and anchor it there, up and under his curls.

His eyes flutter closed as he nods, “So much.” 

“Show me.”

He’s close enough for you to lean forward and just take what you want, but you want him to do it. Your voice is lost to your ears. All that registers is the slow smile stretching across this beautiful man’s face.

You swear right then, you’ll do anything to keep it there. 

He’s on your lips before you can blink. Your fingers tangle in his hair, struggling to find grounding at the intensity of it. His lips are soft, just like you remember, and taste of dried plum and spice.

You press your chest to his. Both his hands slide to palm your ass, yanking you closer. You let him, hiking a leg over his lap, hips now flush against his side.

Earth and citrus swarm your senses again, and you just about lose yourself. It ferments the air around you, the more he invades your space, mixing with your sweet perfume, and you bite back the wild urge to lick up his jaw. 

With a mind of its own, your hand slithers down to wrap around his neck. No pressure, yet the moan that rumbles out of his throat shoots right to your pussy.

His piercing clicks uncomfortably against your teeth, making you grimace. It vibrates up your gums, and you yearn for him to do it again. 

“You still like being choked, huh?” You giggle against his lips between kisses. 

Dom’s grip tightens on your waist.  Your leg twitches, and you intend to climb fully on top of him. Just thinking about your clit pressing against the prominent tent in his jeans leaves you whimpering into his mouth.

He sucks on your bottom lip, then lets it snap back into place before putting space between you. 

You have stop yourself from chasing his lips; you haven’t swept your tongue against his piercing yet, and trying to hold on to the self-control you usually have feels almost impossible right now.

Well, what’s left of it anyway.

Cat would lose her shit if she saw you right now: hair roughed up, lip gloss smeared across your cheek in public like this. 

“Take me back to your place?” He noses along your jaw. You sigh and lean into him with a nod, not trusting your voice. Hoping your eagerness is pliable enough for him. 

You don’t remember much of the Uber ride back to your place, or even which one of you unlocked the door to your apartment before you were slammed up against it, heels falling off your feet.

You’re supposed to text Cat that you made it home, but that can wait; she’ll understand. 

“Room is down the hall. Second. Door. On the left” You pant in between kisses. And now you’re lying on your mattress, with Dominic fucking Fike right back between your legs like he’s always belonged there. 

He remembers where to kiss, to press, and more importantly, where to bite. What to say, and how to say it, to make you tighten your grip in his hair.

His eyes are glossed over and wild as he looks up at you, licking the birthmark on the inside of your thigh before nipping at it.

Your pants are somewhere on the floor, yanked off along with your top. But your panties stay, and you could feel the warm puff of his breath through them. 

At the whisper of contact, you buck your hips up, eager for him to get to where you need him. You watch his eyes flutter close, as he greedily nuzzles his nose into your clothed cunt with a deep inhale.

Your hand tightens in his hair. Saliva pools around your tongue. 

“Fuck Dom, you’re something else.” You breathe. He just sighs, hands squeezing into your thighs. It’s all too much, you feel you'll pass out if you don't busy yourself with something.

You feel up for your nightstand and dig around the ashtray for one of your blunts and a lighter. 

“Come here,” You coax, as you light it. Both his arms are wrapped under and over your thighs.

Taking a deep pull of the joint, Dominic pulls himself up and hovers his face over yours. Your eyes roam over his nose, his cheekbones, the freckles dotting up his jaw, and along his ear.

Lips, pink and plumper after being bitten. You can’t believe you’re back here after all this time. 

Dropping the blunt into the ashtray, you yank him down for a shotgun. He greedily inhales all that you give him, and the buzz you feel right after is just what you were looking for as you melt into the bed.

Barely having a moment to exhale before Dom's lips are back on yours. 

It’s wet and swollen. He still tastes of the spiced rum and peppermint gum you’d slipped under his tongue earlier.

Then finally, finally, his tongue slips into your mouth; you suck on it, flicking your tongue over the piercing. His breathing turns erratic, and he firmly caresses your cheek, silently begging for more.

And who are you to deny him? 

Moving down, you suck at the skin right under the back of his ear. He tilts his head, giving you more room, and curses out your name. It quickly becomes your favorite sound.

Dropping his weight fully to his forearms, his body firmly presses against yours, and he rolls his hips. 

The deep, slow grind of his hard-on, poking through his jeans, makes your mouth drop against his neck at the friction. 

“Dom please.” You choke. He hasn’t fully touched you yet, but you knew you’d come too soon if he did that again. Your ears feel as if they’d been stuffed with cotton, and Dominic’s bare chest feels molten against yours.

When did he take off his shirt? 

You turn your head towards his, which has found its way into your neck, and nip at his ear. “Might cum if you do that again,” You warn, though it sounds more like a plea. 

“Yeah? You promise?” He whispers against the side of your mouth. His hips roll again, and you can’t help but move your hips to match his rhythm.

“Don’t wanna cum like this. Need you.” 

“You already have me.” You roll your eyes, knowing he knew what you meant, and that he was making your work for it.

So, grabbing hold of his hand, you slide it between your bodies to press his fingers to your aching clit. 

“Want you here..” Your voice is small, and Dominic’s eyes gloss over. 

You tug at the belt around his pants, “Need these off, too.” He lets you unclasp the metal buckle and unbutton his jeans before he kicks them off, along with his boxers. 

Once he settles back over you, he swipes his thumb over your bottom lip, “Look at you. Missed me that bad, didn't you?” You lean into his touch, but your eyes remain focused between your bodies. 

Mouth watering at the sight of him again. You lick your lips and reach to wrap around his shaft.

Hard, it throbs in your hand, and you hear his breath hitch. If you weren’t so hellbent on wanting this to last as long as possible, you’d have sunk down on him before fully processing that you had crawled on top. 

You blink up at his fucked out expression, eyes red and low. Imagining you must look the same, you slowly began to move your hand up and down his cock, your fist tight and twisting.

But he wraps his hand around your wrist. 

“Another time, okay. Need to taste you again.” Your brain short-circuits at the promise of a next time.  

He moves your hand off him and up, intertwining them with his as he moves down. In a matter of seconds, he’s back settled between your thighs. 

He presses one, three, five kisses along the band of your panties, icy heat left behind each one as his hands slide up to hook around the soaked lace and slip them down your legs. 

“Look at how wet you are.” He whispers, watching as your panties peel away from your sticky folds, “Bet you taste better than last time.” Your toes twitch at the soft awe in his voice. 

Time seems to slow, you wait impatiently with bated breath to feel his lips. And you don’t have to wait long before he kisses your clit, then suctions his lips around it. A white-hot pleasure licks at your spine. 

“Dom~.” You draw out, “Yes, yes.”

He pulls back to push forward a ball of spit, letting it slowly spill over your folds. It’s warm as it slips down between your ass and pools onto your sheets.

Your jaw slackens when he takes his pointer and middle finger to push apart your folds and expose your clit. It’s so obscene, so nasty, how he’s playing with you. 

He hikes your legs further back, spreading you wider. 

Your fingers flex in his hair at how he’s moving you. You’re completely pliant under him, and he knows it.  

“You smell so good,” He breathes, "Just how I remember.”  Then he flattens his tongue to lick a slow stripe up your cunt, flicking the tip of his tongue wildly against your bundle of nerves. 

Your eyes shut, and before you can beg for more, he’s eating you like he’s starved. It’s so good, too good.

Before you can stop it, your mind drifts without warning. Who else has he had like this between the months– Nope. You stick a pin in that. Dominic’s yours right now, no one else's. 

“Yes,” You roll your hips up to meet his tongue, that little ball of metal catching on your clit in the most delicious way.

“Just like that.” He groans against you, his fingers pressing harder into the meat of your thighs, sure to leave an imprint. You hope it does.

The thought of him leaving something there made your chest fill with pride. Proof that you belong to him, no matter how delusional that sounds right now.

His middle and index fingers push into your fluttering walls, knuckles deep and your back arches. 

His long, thin fingers fit perfectly, and his pace is quick. Your vision lags, the lewd sounds of his mouth working you almost too much. 

Overcome with the need to lay your claim over him, you start sputtering out nonsense. Anything to keep him right where he is. 

“Yours, Dom, I’m all yours.” You slur.  

“Yeah, all mine.” 

“No one else’s.” 

“Then cum for me, you can do that for me again, can’t you?” 

Your knuckles turn white in his hair, as your hips pick up against his tongue.

He keeps his head there, his movements not slowing down, if anything seeming to get faster when you start to cry out, voice cracking before you let out a broken cry. 

His face is completely pressed into you, and you aren’t sure if he’s breathing. If he even cares to be or not. 

“M’ gonna cum, you’re gonna make me cum already.” So close, so fucking close. 

“All over my face, baby. Come on.” 

That’s it.

Your thighs clamp around his head, bottom half lifting off the bed as your coil snaps.

You feel it before you process it, eyes closed so tight your vision begins to speckle stars, thighs locking up, as you cum harder than you believed possible.

Dominic slows down, suckling your clit while his fingers slowly slide out, lazily dragging his piercing over your cunt. Your thighs are trembling around his head, and he's showing you no mercy.

The overstimulation is immediate. You try to paw at his face to push him away, mewling at him to stop.

He lingers a little longer, just to be an asshole, then pulls off with a pop. Watching your clit snap back into place before rising over you, the bottom half of his face glimmering.

His hair’s tousled from your fingers, chest heaving as he sweeps over your body. He’s never looked hotter. 

“Wanna taste?” He pants, and at this point, you don’t know why he bothers asking you anything. You pull him down, too fucked out to remember words. 

That slow, teasing smile works its way across his face, and you can’t help but mirror it, laughing breathlessly. 

“You’re such a fucking freak.” Voice hoarse from all your screaming. 

“Yeah, still hit though.” 

You cringe and push at his face, as he laughs against your hand. 

Jamie Campbell Bower

DAY 1: Condoms, Brat Taming, Breathplay [Sir John | Emmanuelle]DAY 2: Embarrassment, Coming in Pants, Marking [Anthony Hope | Sweeney Todd: The Demon Barber of Fleet Street]DAY 3: Hate Sex, Mind Control, Dubcon [Henry 'Vecna' Creel | Stranger Things]DAY 4: Subspace, Hand Kink, Blindfold [Henry '001' Creel | Stranger Things]DAY 5: Glory Hole, Anal Sex, Wax Play [Kit Marlowe | Will]DAY 6: Held Down, Body Worship, Knife Play [Jace Wayland | The Mortal Instruments: City of Bones]DAY 7: Dirty Talk, Cockwarming, Aphrodisiacs [Alexander Babtiste | Witchboard]DAY 8: Face Sitting, Edging, Stripping [Jace Wayland | The Mortal Instruments: City of Bones]DAY 9: Orgasm Delay/Denial, Discipline, Handcuffs [Sir John | Emmanuelle]DAY 10: Gentle Sex, Noncon, Blackmail [Alexander Babtiste | Witchboard]DAY 11: Master/Apprentice, Corruption, Religion Kink [Kit Marlowe | Will]DAY 12: Phone sex, Findom, Voice Kink [Theo Deschamps | The Trials]DAY 13: Temperature Play, Mirror Sex, Masks [Sir John | Emmanuelle]DAY 14: Strength Kink, Roleplay, Ocean/Sea/Pool Sex [King Arthur | Camelot]DAY 15: Power Imbalance, Somnophilia, Handjob [Caius Volturi | Twilight]DAY 16: Nipple Play, Predator/Prey, Biting [Caius Volturi | Twilight]DAY 17: Rough Sex, Begging, Gun Play [Caleb Sykes | Horizon: An American Saga]DAY 18: Deepthroating, Dacryphilia, Kidnapping [Henry 'Mr Whatsit' Creel | Stranger Things]DAY 19: Public Sex, Caught in the Act, Cigar/Cigarettes [Kit Marlowe | Will]DAY 20: One Night Stand, Creampie, Feather Play [Edward de Vere | Anonymous]DAY 21: Overstimulation, Pillow Princess, Milking [Jace Wayland | The Mortal Instruments: City of Bones]DAY 22: Sharing, Boot Worship, Lactation [Caleb Sykes | Horizon: An American Saga]DAY 23: Vibrators, Spitting, Pornography [Theo Deschamps | The Trials]DAY 24: Drugging, Armpit, Teasing [Alexander Babtiste | Witchboard]DAY 25: First Time, Praise, Risky [Anthony Hope | Sweeney Todd: The Demon Barber of Fleet Street]DAY 26: Swallowing, Outdoor, Royalty [King Arthur | Camelot]DAY 27: Spanking, Threesome, Cucking [Edward de Vere | Anonymous] + [Kit Marlowe | Will]DAY 28: Safewords, Car Sex, Aftercare [Theo Deschamps | The Trials]DAY 29: Quickie, Wet & Messy, Hair Pulling [Caleb Sykes | Horizon: An American Saga]DAY 30: Licking, Choking, Breeding [Caius Volturi | Twilight]DAY 31: Fingering, Clothed Sex, Dry Humping [Anthony Hope | Sweeney Todd: The Demon Barber of Fleet Street]

Alan Rickman [Bonus]

DAY 4: Subspace, Service Top, Breeding [Sinclair Bryant | Close My Eyes]DAY 9: Orgasm Delay/Denial, Discipline, Stripping [Hans Gruber | Die Hard]DAY 10: Noncon, Blackmail, Corruption [Judge Turpin | Sweeney Todd: The Demon Barber of Fleet Street]DAY 12: Phone sex, Findom, Sexting [Lionel Shahbandar | Gambit]DAY 15: Power Imbalance, Restraints, Dubcon [The Interrogator | Closet Land] DAY 17: Rough Sex, Begging, Teacher/Student [Eli Michaelson | Nobel Son]DAY 20: One Night Stand, Condom, Quickie [Hilly Kristal | CBGB]DAY 22: Sharing, Boot Worship, Lactation [Elliot Marston | Quigley Down Under]DAY 23: Caught in the Act, Knife Play, Held Down [Sheriff of Nottingham | Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves]DAY 31: Fingering, Praise, Voice Kink [Jamie | Truly Madly Deeply]

One youngster was quite enough to deal with already. Caleb's child varied little from him, after all, as the saying goes, like father, like son. In this case, like daughter. The first child Caleb had was a little girl, a carbon copy of him in terms of both looks and personality. A rebellious little lady that never listened to either you or Caleb himself, which was nearly killing you, whilst making Caleb laugh his heart out. No matter how many times you tried to get the little one under control, it always led to Caleb letting her do whatever and laughing at how fiery her tiny heart was.

But he was not as concerned with taking care of the little one. Caleb was a provider and was out a lot while you had to be taking care of the little one. There were several times when you had told Caleb that he had better take care of your daughter, too, else you'd kick him out. But he always laughed and rubbed your back.

"You do mighty fine, girl. Don't let me mess her up." "She needs a father, Caleb! Come on... You can't stay out all day and come late-" "You got it, girl. That's why I wifed ya' up. Come on, give me a kiss."

And he'd pulled you in by the hip and kissed you hard before going out again.

But this time, things took a different turn.

It was late, the sun was setting, so you suspected he was out to feed the horses before coming back. You let him. How could you argue with him? You put the little one to bed. She had already eaten, and you thought to give Caleb his meal soon.

But for now, you stayed there, quietly, on the edge of the bed, watching. Tending to the little girl, making sure she was deep in sleep before you could go. Oh, she was a little menace, but one thing she couldn't fight you on was sleep. She always fell asleep right as you put her down on the bed after running about all day and begging you to ask her dad to take her riding on the horse.

She was asleep, though. Deep in sleep.

You smiled, hand stroking her cheek, then got up, but not before placing a soft kiss on her head. How you saw your Caleb in her... In this little menace of an angel.

But as you turned to the doorway, you saw Caleb.

He was there, with his arms crossed, his hat gone. He had discarded his furs and gun and was standing there. Quiet. That was unlike him, to be quiet. It spooked you to see him there, and you covered your mouth sharply to keep from squeaking and waking the little one.

You felt tension in his eyes, an intense pressure that loomed over you. It was strange, it wasn't anger or frustration, but something curious which you hadn't spotted in a long time. You felt it was similar to what you could call desire... He wanted you. And yet, there was more... More than the simple desire he held for you.

You walked over to him, trying to make it past him, but he was blocking the door.

He inhaled deeply.

Then exhaled, slowly, as if he held behind a flurry of words. A million things that ought to be said. But that was concluded with a deep shuddering grasp of your wrist as he tugged you into his body.

"One ain't enough girl, I'll give ya another."

He whispered. Not to wake your daughter, as he guided you out of the room, closing the door behind you.

"Another?" "Another baby. I'll put another in ya'. I'll be damned... Ya' want me in the house? I ain't leaving 'till I make sure ya're with child again." "Not a chance, Caleb. One's already a hassle. Love her to death, but I ain't takin' care of another." "Shut it, girl." "What about dinner? Caleb, come on, be responsible, like a father should!" "Hell, I ain't giving a damn about dinner. If I don't have ya' now I'll be mad mad, girl." "Caleb!"

Caleb grinned, scooping you up and throwing you over his shoulder, carrying you to the bedroom. He was messing with you. You sniffed that out, but you knew better - when Caleb was set on something, he would have it done. So you let him carry you, clinging to his shoulders. Trying not to laugh.

"Ain't ya my wife? That's right, girl. My wife, ain't got a word, if I say I put a baby in ya' I will. God's asked for it, for another babe."

"That's right, girl. Damn, ya'll be the death of me!"

Caleb groaned, pressing his head back against the straw pillow.

His hands were clasped roughly on your hips, keeping you steady on his lap. Each roll of your hips, each bounce on his cock, drawing feral growls from Caleb, who was, for once, letting you take charge. There had always been a silent agreement that he'd be on you, but this time you swayed him, got him under you, and now you were taking full advantage of his willingness to let you in charge.

"This ain't right, girl. Ain't right for a man like me..." "You wanted this, Caleb. Now shut it and take it." "Who ya' think ya' speakin' to, girl?" Caleb started, threatening to push himself up, but you thrust him down with your hands pressed firmly down on his chest. "Fuck, ya... minx." "Wanted another child? I'll have it on my own terms."

Caleb didn't fight you on it. He let himself drop back on the bed, with his hands on you, guiding you to ride him as he liked it. His hips thrust up into you, meeting your pace. There were soft creaks of the bed, the wooden frame too frail for the pace Caleb was often willing to set.

"I ain't likin' the tone ya' got with me, girl." "I'm your wife, Caleb. Not your toy."

You felt him twitch inside you, and saw the way his jaw tightened as he struggled to hold back. He wanted to grab you and force that baby in you on his own terms, but seeing you on him like that was a sight he was equally unwilling to give up on. So he forced himself to let you have the lead, at least for now.

"Ya' be what I want ya'. Don't get ahead of ya'self girl. Damn, ya're a fuckin' view."

As you rolled your hips, pace quickening as you chased your release, Caleb grunted, growing desperate to regain control again. His hands migrated from your hips to your ass, squeezing it and keeping you steady by it as he started thrusting roughly up into you. Taken by surprise, you dropped your head forward, trying to cling to his chest to ground yourself, but Caleb wasn't going to give you time to adapt.

He thrust up into you, licking his lips at the sight of your resolve faltering. Caleb thrived on seeing your lips part, hearing your muffled, strangled moans as you tried to keep control of yourself. To not give in yet. But he knew how to make you lose your grip. He kept thrusting into you, one hand hard on your ass, the other reaching up to the back of your head, burying his fingers in your hair. He got a hold of your hair and pushed your head down closer to his, forcing a rough kiss on you while he thrust into you with his whole strength.

You winced and tried to claw at him with your nails to make it easier, but that made him laugh. He broke the kiss, his forehead pressed into yours, his hand keeping your head there by the hair as he growled right by your lips.

"That's right, girl, sure ridin' me better than ya' ride my horse-" "Stop it, Caleb," you forced yourself to say, the waves of pleasure too intense to be able to think of anything better to say. "Ain't got to tell me what to do. Good wives keep their beaks shut, ay?" "Asshole." "That's girl, baby. Cuss at me all ya' want, but I can feel ya' takin' it good. Hell, ya' pussy's practically begging for it. God. God Damn. Come on, girl, come on. Give me a son."

With a rough jerk, he rolled you over, your back hitting the sheets with him still inside you, thrusting as roughly. But like this, he had a better angle, a better footing. His knees lodged into the mattress as he quickened his pace more, groaning with each thrust.

"Look at me, girl. That's right. Right at me. Ya' gonna have another child for me, got that? Fuck, hell better open and swallow me whole if I don't fill this house up with our kids." "God damn it, Sykes. I ain't thought I married a-" "A what, girl? A what? A man who wants to get his wife with child all the time, ay? Oh, bet I do love it, girl. I love takin' ya around with that belly showing, yeah. I love shoving it in everyone's fuckin' faces that I can do a God damn better job than they can."

You buried your face into his shoulder, his hand still in your hair, keeping your head against his. His other hand went down to your thigh, holding onto it as he thrust into you, feeling your orgasm nearing. So he pushed on, knowing what he was saying was helping you get off.

"Mhm, God, girl. I love paradin' ya in front of my brother. Love seein' him seethin' when he knows I get to have ya' whenever I want. All the fuckin' time. Ya' ain't gonna be a God damn day without child anymore, hear it? I'll make sure of that girl."

There was no way to delay it any longer, to hold back when he snapped his hips into yours, his cock making you mewl into his shoulder, in an attempt to keep it down. At least muffle yourselves so you won't wake up the house. But Caleb didn't care; he didn't let you muffle yourself. He tugged your head back by the hair, forcing you to gaze into his eyes.

"Not a chance. Ya' lookin' at me and lettin' me hear it all. Come on, girl, give it all to me. Give it all to Caleb Sykes."

As you came, squeezing him inside you, unable to hold back no longer, he too growled at the mere sight of you loose in his arms. Seeing you reach those heights due to his cock was enough to make a man mad with lust, and Caleb was but a mere man. So when he saw you like that, he held back no longer either, thrusting into you - past your orgasm, until he filled you up with his cum. But he didn't stop. He couldn't. His mind wanted nothing more than to keep going, so even as he emptied himself in you, his hips continued to roll, instinctively almost, trying to push his seed as far up into you as he could.

But he didn't think that was enough. And as he panted into your body, catching his breath, he knew he wasn't letting you off the hook for the night.

"So, Papa is right, you know that?" "What is Papa right about?"

You shot Caleb a look as you made breakfast. He was at the table with his elbow on it, watching your ass very shamelessly as you tried to get food on the table for the two of you. At your look, he smirked cockily.

"Did Papa and you talk about anything that Mama doesn't know?" "No, I heard it last night. Papa asked you for a son, and I agree. I want a brother."

You nearly dropped the plates, and Caleb, as always, did nothing helpful. He started laughing, leaning back in his chair with his arm draped lazily over its back.

"A'ight! See? She's got it right. That's a good girl. Tell Mama about it."

You wanted to break the plate over Caleb's head. But in an attempt to salvage the situation, you changed the subject to something about breakfast. The little one got distracted by it, at least for now, and after she was done eating, she went to play outside with the dogs.

But you turned to Caleb, who was still acting all cocky about it.

In fact, you had only turned to him when he was up behind you, with his arms around your waist and leaning down to kiss you. But before he could, you shoved him back playfully, hands on his chest.

"Not a chance, Caleb." "Difficult woman..." he growled playfully, plastering his hand on the table by your side. "You know, I've been thinking..." "So have I."

You rolled your eyes at the interruption, "Hard to believe that you do. Regardless, I've been thinking. Why did you want a son specifically? I mean, I know... I know men want boys because it shows how great men they are, but I hope this isn't why you keep being off the house. You must love your daughter, right?"

Caleb didn't expect that.

Of course he did.

He loved her dearly. He hadn't even considered this. Sure, a boy was usually what men wanted, but Caleb couldn't care less about how many tries it took to get a son. He wanted a boy, but it had nothing to do with how others saw him. He softened up for a moment, spooning you from behind with his head resting on your shoulder as you looked down at the plates you had to clean.

"Ain't a damn day that passes without me hatin' having to be away from my girls."

His hands went around you, resting on your belly with his head nestled securily against your neck.

"I want girls, boys. Doesn't matter to me, I'll love them all the same. I..." He took a moment, almost hurt by the fact he had to make a vulnerable confession, but he went with it, and you could hear the effort he was making to open up, "I ain't doin' an easy job, girl. One day, I may step out of that God damn door and not come back and then what, ay? What comes of ya and my girl? Who takes care of ya'? Junior? Ain't trusting him with ya', I can't."

His eyes closed, and his forehead pressed slightly against your neck. Trying to reach closer to you. To feel you grounding him, anchoring him.

"Want a son, to raise him good so if something comes of me, he can help ya' take care of the girls, a'ight? I ain't got a worry in the world that ya'd be doin' ya best. But damn, girl. Ya' know people are snakes... they'd try to use my girls and I ain't letting that happen."

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One youngster was quite enough to deal with already. Caleb's child varied little from him, after all, as the saying goes, like father, like son. In this case, like daughter. The first child Caleb had was a little girl, a carbon copy of him in terms of both looks and personality. A rebellious little lady that never listened to either you or Caleb himself, which was nearly killing you, whilst making Caleb laugh his heart out. No matter how many times you tried to get the little one under control, it always led to Caleb letting her do whatever and laughing at how fiery her tiny heart was.

But he was not as concerned with taking care of the little one. Caleb was a provider and was out a lot while you had to be taking care of the little one. There were several times when you had told Caleb that he had better take care of your daughter, too, else you'd kick him out. But he always laughed and rubbed your back.

"You do mighty fine, girl. Don't let me mess her up." "She needs a father, Caleb! Come on... You can't stay out all day and come late-" "You got it, girl. That's why I wifed ya' up. Come on, give me a kiss."

And he'd pulled you in by the hip and kissed you hard before going out again.

But this time, things took a different turn.

It was late, the sun was setting, so you suspected he was out to feed the horses before coming back. You let him. How could you argue with him? You put the little one to bed. She had already eaten, and you thought to give Caleb his meal soon.

But for now, you stayed there, quietly, on the edge of the bed, watching. Tending to the little girl, making sure she was deep in sleep before you could go. Oh, she was a little menace, but one thing she couldn't fight you on was sleep. She always fell asleep right as you put her down on the bed after running about all day and begging you to ask her dad to take her riding on the horse.

She was asleep, though. Deep in sleep.

You smiled, hand stroking her cheek, then got up, but not before placing a soft kiss on her head. How you saw your Caleb in her... In this little menace of an angel.

But as you turned to the doorway, you saw Caleb.

He was there, with his arms crossed, his hat gone. He had discarded his furs and gun and was standing there. Quiet. That was unlike him, to be quiet. It spooked you to see him there, and you covered your mouth sharply to keep from squeaking and waking the little one.

You felt tension in his eyes, an intense pressure that loomed over you. It was strange, it wasn't anger or frustration, but something curious which you hadn't spotted in a long time. You felt it was similar to what you could call desire... He wanted you. And yet, there was more... More than the simple desire he held for you.

You walked over to him, trying to make it past him, but he was blocking the door.

He inhaled deeply.

Then exhaled, slowly, as if he held behind a flurry of words. A million things that ought to be said. But that was concluded with a deep shuddering grasp of your wrist as he tugged you into his body.

"One ain't enough girl, I'll give ya another."

He whispered. Not to wake your daughter, as he guided you out of the room, closing the door behind you.

"Another?" "Another baby. I'll put another in ya'. I'll be damned... Ya' want me in the house? I ain't leaving 'till I make sure ya're with child again." "Not a chance, Caleb. One's already a hassle. Love her to death, but I ain't takin' care of another." "Shut it, girl." "What about dinner? Caleb, come on, be responsible, like a father should!" "Hell, I ain't giving a damn about dinner. If I don't have ya' now I'll be mad mad, girl." "Caleb!"

Caleb grinned, scooping you up and throwing you over his shoulder, carrying you to the bedroom. He was messing with you. You sniffed that out, but you knew better - when Caleb was set on something, he would have it done. So you let him carry you, clinging to his shoulders. Trying not to laugh.

"Ain't ya my wife? That's right, girl. My wife, ain't got a word, if I say I put a baby in ya' I will. God's asked for it, for another babe."

"That's right, girl. Damn, ya'll be the death of me!"

Caleb groaned, pressing his head back against the straw pillow.

His hands were clasped roughly on your hips, keeping you steady on his lap. Each roll of your hips, each bounce on his cock, drawing feral growls from Caleb, who was, for once, letting you take charge. There had always been a silent agreement that he'd be on you, but this time you swayed him, got him under you, and now you were taking full advantage of his willingness to let you in charge.

"This ain't right, girl. Ain't right for a man like me..." "You wanted this, Caleb. Now shut it and take it." "Who ya' think ya' speakin' to, girl?" Caleb started, threatening to push himself up, but you thrust him down with your hands pressed firmly down on his chest. "Fuck, ya... minx." "Wanted another child? I'll have it on my own terms."

Caleb didn't fight you on it. He let himself drop back on the bed, with his hands on you, guiding you to ride him as he liked it. His hips thrust up into you, meeting your pace. There were soft creaks of the bed, the wooden frame too frail for the pace Caleb was often willing to set.

"I ain't likin' the tone ya' got with me, girl." "I'm your wife, Caleb. Not your toy."

You felt him twitch inside you, and saw the way his jaw tightened as he struggled to hold back. He wanted to grab you and force that baby in you on his own terms, but seeing you on him like that was a sight he was equally unwilling to give up on. So he forced himself to let you have the lead, at least for now.

"Ya' be what I want ya'. Don't get ahead of ya'self girl. Damn, ya're a fuckin' view."

As you rolled your hips, pace quickening as you chased your release, Caleb grunted, growing desperate to regain control again. His hands migrated from your hips to your ass, squeezing it and keeping you steady by it as he started thrusting roughly up into you. Taken by surprise, you dropped your head forward, trying to cling to his chest to ground yourself, but Caleb wasn't going to give you time to adapt.

He thrust up into you, licking his lips at the sight of your resolve faltering. Caleb thrived on seeing your lips part, hearing your muffled, strangled moans as you tried to keep control of yourself. To not give in yet. But he knew how to make you lose your grip. He kept thrusting into you, one hand hard on your ass, the other reaching up to the back of your head, burying his fingers in your hair. He got a hold of your hair and pushed your head down closer to his, forcing a rough kiss on you while he thrust into you with his whole strength.

You winced and tried to claw at him with your nails to make it easier, but that made him laugh. He broke the kiss, his forehead pressed into yours, his hand keeping your head there by the hair as he growled right by your lips.

"That's right, girl, sure ridin' me better than ya' ride my horse-" "Stop it, Caleb," you forced yourself to say, the waves of pleasure too intense to be able to think of anything better to say. "Ain't got to tell me what to do. Good wives keep their beaks shut, ay?" "Asshole." "That's girl, baby. Cuss at me all ya' want, but I can feel ya' takin' it good. Hell, ya' pussy's practically begging for it. God. God Damn. Come on, girl, come on. Give me a son."

With a rough jerk, he rolled you over, your back hitting the sheets with him still inside you, thrusting as roughly. But like this, he had a better angle, a better footing. His knees lodged into the mattress as he quickened his pace more, groaning with each thrust.

"Look at me, girl. That's right. Right at me. Ya' gonna have another child for me, got that? Fuck, hell better open and swallow me whole if I don't fill this house up with our kids." "God damn it, Sykes. I ain't thought I married a-" "A what, girl? A what? A man who wants to get his wife with child all the time, ay? Oh, bet I do love it, girl. I love takin' ya around with that belly showing, yeah. I love shoving it in everyone's fuckin' faces that I can do a God damn better job than they can."

You buried your face into his shoulder, his hand still in your hair, keeping your head against his. His other hand went down to your thigh, holding onto it as he thrust into you, feeling your orgasm nearing. So he pushed on, knowing what he was saying was helping you get off.

"Mhm, God, girl. I love paradin' ya in front of my brother. Love seein' him seethin' when he knows I get to have ya' whenever I want. All the fuckin' time. Ya' ain't gonna be a God damn day without child anymore, hear it? I'll make sure of that girl."

There was no way to delay it any longer, to hold back when he snapped his hips into yours, his cock making you mewl into his shoulder, in an attempt to keep it down. At least muffle yourselves so you won't wake up the house. But Caleb didn't care; he didn't let you muffle yourself. He tugged your head back by the hair, forcing you to gaze into his eyes.

"Not a chance. Ya' lookin' at me and lettin' me hear it all. Come on, girl, give it all to me. Give it all to Caleb Sykes."

As you came, squeezing him inside you, unable to hold back no longer, he too growled at the mere sight of you loose in his arms. Seeing you reach those heights due to his cock was enough to make a man mad with lust, and Caleb was but a mere man. So when he saw you like that, he held back no longer either, thrusting into you - past your orgasm, until he filled you up with his cum. But he didn't stop. He couldn't. His mind wanted nothing more than to keep going, so even as he emptied himself in you, his hips continued to roll, instinctively almost, trying to push his seed as far up into you as he could.

But he didn't think that was enough. And as he panted into your body, catching his breath, he knew he wasn't letting you off the hook for the night.

"So, Papa is right, you know that?" "What is Papa right about?"

You shot Caleb a look as you made breakfast. He was at the table with his elbow on it, watching your ass very shamelessly as you tried to get food on the table for the two of you. At your look, he smirked cockily.

"Did Papa and you talk about anything that Mama doesn't know?" "No, I heard it last night. Papa asked you for a son, and I agree. I want a brother."

You nearly dropped the plates, and Caleb, as always, did nothing helpful. He started laughing, leaning back in his chair with his arm draped lazily over its back.

"A'ight! See? She's got it right. That's a good girl. Tell Mama about it."

You wanted to break the plate over Caleb's head. But in an attempt to salvage the situation, you changed the subject to something about breakfast. The little one got distracted by it, at least for now, and after she was done eating, she went to play outside with the dogs.

But you turned to Caleb, who was still acting all cocky about it.

In fact, you had only turned to him when he was up behind you, with his arms around your waist and leaning down to kiss you. But before he could, you shoved him back playfully, hands on his chest.

"Not a chance, Caleb." "Difficult woman..." he growled playfully, plastering his hand on the table by your side. "You know, I've been thinking..." "So have I."

You rolled your eyes at the interruption, "Hard to believe that you do. Regardless, I've been thinking. Why did you want a son specifically? I mean, I know... I know men want boys because it shows how great men they are, but I hope this isn't why you keep being off the house. You must love your daughter, right?"

Caleb didn't expect that.

Of course he did.

He loved her dearly. He hadn't even considered this. Sure, a boy was usually what men wanted, but Caleb couldn't care less about how many tries it took to get a son. He wanted a boy, but it had nothing to do with how others saw him. He softened up for a moment, spooning you from behind with his head resting on your shoulder as you looked down at the plates you had to clean.

"Ain't a damn day that passes without me hatin' having to be away from my girls."

His hands went around you, resting on your belly with his head nestled securily against your neck.

"I want girls, boys. Doesn't matter to me, I'll love them all the same. I..." He took a moment, almost hurt by the fact he had to make a vulnerable confession, but he went with it, and you could hear the effort he was making to open up, "I ain't doin' an easy job, girl. One day, I may step out of that God damn door and not come back and then what, ay? What comes of ya and my girl? Who takes care of ya'? Junior? Ain't trusting him with ya', I can't."

His eyes closed, and his forehead pressed slightly against your neck. Trying to reach closer to you. To feel you grounding him, anchoring him.

"Want a son, to raise him good so if something comes of me, he can help ya' take care of the girls, a'ight? I ain't got a worry in the world that ya'd be doin' ya best. But damn, girl. Ya' know people are snakes... they'd try to use my girls and I ain't letting that happen."

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