Untitled

“stay your ass right there.”

his voice came out low, a warning for you not to move or there would be consequences. you barely had time to catch your breath before stack’s palm pressed down between your shoulder blades, keeping your arch deep and your face buried in the couch cushion. his other hand gripped your hip tight, using you exactly how he wanted you.

“thought you was slick, huh?” he growled in your ear, hips snapping forward hard enough to jolt the whole damn couch. “actin’ up in front of them people, tryna embarrass me, now look at you.”

the slap of skin echoed with every thrust. the way your pussy sounded every time he moved, had stack groaning. his pace didn’t slow—not even when your legs started shaking or when your fingers clawed at the cushion for something to hold on to. you couldn’t see him, but you felt him everywhere, the weight of his body, the heat of his breath, his voice when he leaned in and muttered straight nastiness in your ear.

“you takin’ it good though mama,” he murmured, almost mocking. “so desperate for me to fuck the attitude outta you.”

you whimpered something—maybe his name, maybe a curse—but he didn’t let up. his tattooed hand with your name on it wrapped around your throat from behind, pulling you up just enough for his chest to press to your back.

“stop all that fuckin’ crying. this what you wanted, right?” he snarled against your temple. “actin’ like a brat so i’d break you in.”

the couch creaked beneath you, the rhythm deep and punishing, like he had a point to prove. stack didn’t fuck like he loved you. nah, he fucked like he owned you.

That was the question N'Jadaka asked himself watching his wife sunbathe topless on the deck while she chatted about her women friends back in Birnin Zana. Her evenly sun-baked skin looked liked the tops of baked dinner rolls drenched in butter from all the coconut oil she slathered all over. Her voice tinkled like delicate glass chimes and he gazed at her with heart eyes and a silly grin on his face.

His chest filled up with bubbly feelings listening to her talk. He melted in her presence, as softness flowed all through his insides.

A new bond had forged between them.

Encountering the sacred together transcended his feelings for Yani. That young woman had traveled in darkness on a hover bike to receive a message from his mother and in the process she was able to meet his parents and great-grandmother. They knew her. Loved her. Watched over her as their own daughter. Yani was given such a precious gift and her love for him poured out into him all that day.

"Your mother…not only was she beautiful, but she was so…I can't find the words. Glamorous? She looked like a goddess herself along with Nana Jean," she said, reaching for his hand and squeezing it.

She lowered her gaze.

"And your father…I see why he was known as a heartbreaker here."

N'Jadaka grinned.

"They were a good-looking couple. No doubt about that," he said.

Yani sat up and hugged her knees to her chest. They had spent time recuperating from their trip in the cave an entire day. N'Jadaka watched over Yani as her body finally decompressed in a deep slumber. He had sat by her side on the loft bed making sure she was not alone in case she woke up in the night remembering the spiritual realm she had skimmed across. His own brush with the sacred twice in a lifetime still humbled him, so he knew that Yani would probably feel as he did from a profound encounter, and wake up many times adjusting to a new reality she was expected to move in henceforth. Encountering gods had an impact on the body and mind. As he knew she would, Yani roused from sleep several times, her body trembling and her grasp on his nearby hand anchoring her back to the human world. It took her several attempts to reach full sleep, and in that time, he left her side to eat and hydrate his own body.

The next day he ate on the top deck with her and they moved the houseboat closer to the shore in order to catch glimpses of the first flamingo arrivals into the territory. He urged her to relax and she chose to sunbathe seated next to him while he glanced through a book of Wakandan philosophers. He used a dictionary to help him with difficult Wakandan translations that had no English word equivalents.

"Riki looks so much like Califia that it's spooky. You, know what? Joba has N'Jobu's eyes, and his deep rich skin color for sure, and his energy. That calmness…she inherited his temperament…that gentleness with just a hint of fierceness underneath. I love the fact that Sydette has the same color eyes as Joba. It makes them look like true blood sisters."

"Mmmhmmm."

Yani stared at him.

"You are both of your parents in every way. Grandpop always said that, but I was able to see it for myself."

Her eyes welled up.

"I wish they could be here with us. They should be here with us," she said.

She wiped her eyes quickly. He stroked her leg and she clasped his hand, lifting it to her lips.

"I'm so lucky…so blessed," she whispered into his fingers.

He put down his book and pulled her against him.

"So am I, Yani."

They agreed not to speak of their experience to anyone.

That afternoon N'Jadaka moved the boat again out toward the cove view of the oldest forest in Wakanda. He watched his wife swim past him as they explored Umbono Cove's beautiful waters using specialized diving masks to keep up with a school of fish they followed underwater. Yani wanted to dive deeper and stay under longer.

Hunger brought them back to the surface and they ate beef patties and fried rice with jerk shrimp. Yani knocked out in a food coma on the deck lounger and he carried her back to the loft to sleep off her meal where she wouldn't get sunburned. He napped next to her for an hour and woke up energized.

His wife snored softly next to him.

He left her side and went for a swim alone. The sun had warmed up the tranquil clear water into a balmy soak for his skin. He had to be two shades darker by now. Floating on his back, N'Jadaka stared at the blue sky. He and Yani had a few more days left before they stayed at his family's private villa before the children joined them. Grinning in the water, he couldn't wait to see his kids. Time alone with Yani was a blessing, but having all of his babies with him and his wife gave him joy. He couldn't wait to have Sydette filling him in on all the happenings in Birnin Zana, and Riki sharing all of the gossip among his friend group and cousins. Joba would play in his hair and share her opinion on the opinions of Umama and the rest of the family. There was a synergy the children created when they were all together that made N'Jadaka proud to be a father. Fatherhood was not his dream for a long time. When he asked Disa to marry him as a young man, he knew children were a possibility, but they were not on his vision board. It was Yani that gave him the gift of fatherhood, and he learned to love it with Sweet Pea first and foremost.

He wanted to be an intentional parent with Yani, and once they returned to the palace, they'd have to start preparing Sydette for her rites of passage trials. Every child in Wakanda went through it at the age of twelve, and parents began to prep for it once their child turned nine. Sydette was excited, especially with Umama and Ramonda teaching Yani and him the proper way to prepare. When Sydette came of age, they would release her to women elders for a month in the ancient forests he could see from the water he floated in. The first step would be to prepare her hair, and Umama was ready to do it for Sydette after the honeymoon trip. His oldest child couldn't wait to wear the hairstyle for three years that told the public she was becoming a young lady.

N'Jadaka dove under the water. He wasn't ready for his firstborn to grow up already. She would always be his baby, but time would march on. In a few years she would be a teenager like he had once been. She'd probably want to test her limits and push against boundaries he and Yani set as loving parents. The best thing about being a father was having Yani be the mother of his children. Her love for them knew no bounds. She proved it by traveling to the edge of the ancestral plane for them…and him.

He couldn't get over that. His mind replayed finding Yani in the cave and hearing the voice of his unborn baby in his head over and over. Braving the wrath of Bast was something special. Her bold move to protect them warmed his heart all over again. He glanced at the houseboat. She was still asleep, hopefully resting well.

A large drone swooped over head and landed on the deck of the houseboat carrying a fresh load of gourmet food for the royal couple. N'Jadaka swam back to the boat ladder and pulled himself out of the water. He checked the list of food against what was inside the refrigerated container and began putting goods away before sending the drone back to the Royal Talon Fighter. Yani requested more Caribbean supplies with spices and food from the islands. Twyla made sure there were freshly prepared jars of green seasoning to save Yani cooking time.

His wife walked down from the bedroom wiping her eyes of sleep.

"Did I wake you up?" he asked, pouring himself a glass of red wine.

"I heard the buzzing from the drone. Figured I'd better come down and start cooking. How does stewed fish and spicy dumplings sound?"

He rubbed his hands together, "Can you make the fried oyster rolls too?"

"Your wish is my command. Pour me a glass too, my sexy husband," she said.

He grinned.

"Swim trunks are sexy now?"

Yani trailed her index finger up his midsection.

"Everything is sexy about you. The first time I saw you swimming naked my mouth watered. I cursed your name too for being in my private space, but this body and that face could not be denied their due," she said.

"Are you flirting with me to get some dick tonight?"

Yani laughed and pinched his left nipple. She stepped away from him and washed her hands in the wide sink of the galley.

"I dreamed about your parents again," she said.

"Oh, yeah? Good dream?"

She nodded and paused her work gathering the ingredients needed for their meal prep.

"We were seated around a campfire and holding long sticks to toast marshmallows. Your father was telling me a story about teaching you to swim. Your mother kept touching his face and laughing…it was so real. They gave me comfort…like they knew I needed that from them. I looked up at the night sky and saw so many stars twinkling above me and I was at peace."

N'Jadaka grinned, pleased that she was in a good place mentally. He drank wine with her and she cooked a full meal that tasted better than any fancy restaurant could throw together. With a heavy belly, he sat on the deck with her and watched the sun go down and usher in a solitude they both needed. Yani lifted a fresh glass of red wine and he did the same. They clinked glasses and sipped all night.

Five days at the family villa invigorated Yani. The property had been in the Udaku family for three generations, but most recently had been used by Prince N'Jobu before he became a War Dog. An eager staff had greeted the royals when they arrived on a warm afternoon, and that same day, Yani and N'Jadaka learned about N'Jobu's playboy ways in detail. One of the housekeepers, Gorata, was an older woman who looked after N'Jobu. Her caretaking of the property gave her privy to the goings on of the villa and the dashing prince who treated her well. Although she was in her mid-fifties, Gorata held a youthful zeal in her face and movement, her long thick beaded locs only sporting a tiny sprinkle of gray at the roots. She gave Yani and N'Jadaka a tour of the grounds and showed them where the Royal Talon Fighter would land in an open grassy area when it brought the children later.

"Prince N'Jobu loved meditating out here. This place was like his bachelor vacation retreat. He'd walk along the river reciting poetry, or sometimes he would listen to music and sing. I loved his singing voice…so rich and full-bodied. The ladies loved that," Gorata said.

"Ladies?" Yani asked, peeking at N'Jadaka's face as she spoke.

The king stared at Gorata and the older woman grinned.

"Oh yes…Prince N'Jobu entertained many young noble women here. Sometimes he had parties with his friends that lasted for days when they wanted privacy. He was very popular. The young nobles loved coming here."

"I bet my grandmother was not very happy about parties here," N'Jadaka said.

"Kumkani, we were never allowed to let any of the elder royals know of his stay here. Sometimes…sometimes the women guests were not appropriate for the prince to be around," Gorata said.

"He had hookers come here?" Yani said.

"Oh no…Queen Yani…never. Prince N'Jobu often entertained non-noble elites, but they were not prostitutes. He was too good for anything like that. Royals are always supposed to be in the company of their status, but Prince N'Jobu liked commoners too."

"Commoners, huh?"

"High quality my queen."

"So this was his sex party house," N'Jadaka said.

Gorata laughed and covered her mouth.

"King N'Jadaka, you jest!" Gorata said.

"I mean, it is what it is…my father came here to be with women so my grandparents wouldn't know."

"Your father was very respectful and very discreet."

"Hmmm, I wonder if I should even be here," Yani said, flouncing around the area.

Gorata held up her hands toward Yani.

"Oh…Queen Yani, I did not mean to make you feel unwelcome. This villa is now your family abode. A bachelor pad no more."

"I'm only teasing, Gorata. Thank you for showing us around."

"I will take my leave now. The staff will have lunch ready for when the royal children arrive."

"Thank you, Gorata," N'Jadaka said.

The caretaker departed and Yani smirked at the king.

"Your daddy's hoe house!"

Yani cackled and N'Jadaka only smiled.

"I was told that they still have women and men on standby for private royal favors. Seems like a few of my older Wakandan cousins still use the place often."

"Interesting."

N'Jadaka glanced around.

"Are you ready to get the munchkins back?" he said.

"Yes. It's actually been too quiet without them."

She noticed his kimoyo beads lighting up in several different colors. His palace staff used color codes to prioritize his work load. He was already putting together his docket for his return. N'Jadaka tapped the beads and the colors dulled on his wrist. Yani patted his arm. She hadn't bothered to turn on her beads, preferring to hit the ground running once she returned. Her office manager S'Indiphile was left in charge of preparing Yani's calendar for her return with strict guidelines to prioritize charitable works overseas and her coming out events for the next two months. The elites from every tribe vyed for her attention and she was being very selective based on how she was treated by noble families tied to the Udaku clan. She knew the moment she turned her work beads on, her wrist would light up in rainbow colors like N'Jadaka's.

N'Jadaka reached for her hand and she took it. They strolled along the river's edge waiting for the Royal Talon Fighter.

"Kumkani, we are arriving in five minutes," Okoye said from N'Jadaka's beads.

Yani already sensed the vibratory hum of the aircraft and her heart thumped faster anticipating holding her children again.

"Here they come!' she yelped as they watched the Talon Fighter float over the landing ground.

N'Jadaka squeezed her hand. The aircraft landed with a gentle shaking of the ground around them and the off-ramp slid out. Okoye and Ayo walked out ahead of the children and waited at the end of the ramp.

Sydette held Riki and Joba's hands and they strode out into the bright sun wearing big wide smiles on their faces. Riki jerked away from her hold and Joba ran behind him to greet Yani first. Sydette hugged N'Jadaka's waist and looked up at his face.

"I missed you Baba," Sydette said.

He kissed her forehead before reaching over for the bouncy "twins".

"Sweet Pea, oh my love…I'm so happy to see you," Yani said.

She gave her oldest a deep long hug. Both parents couldn't stop hugging and kissing their babies and the children responded in kind. Love lingered all around them and Yani breathed a sigh of contentment. She carried a watchful energy around her brood too.

"Were you well-behaved with the Doras? It was your first trip traveling without the nannies," Yani said.

"We were good," Sydette said.

"Hungry?"

"Starving!" Riki yelled.

Yani caught sight of the villa staff bringing their lunch meal into the two-story villa. The comforting cool breeze made the interior pleasant for everyone. Yani led the children to the restroom on the first floor to wash their hands. N'Jadaka spoke to the Doras before relieving them for a long break. They would head out for the houseboat in the evening which only allowed their children a few hours in the villa.

Lunch was thick spicy sausage rolls and fries with a cool refreshing dessert of sliced fruit in thick sweetened cream. The children devoured everything like they had bottomless pits for stomachs and Yani admired her family being all together again. Sydette was of course spilling all the tea back home. Riki seemed happier since Twyla re-braided his hair differently from the girls. Joba was especially talkative revealing all of Umama's plans for Yani and N'Jadaka when they returned home. Their marriage pleased Umama to no end from the way Joba described it. For one thing it shut down the negative chatter from naysayers about the king being an unmarried father of three among her class. It also legitimized the children in a way that pushed the agenda of other nobles wanting to align with the family intimately. It was uncouth to overtly pressure match-making so young, but Yani was aware of elite families quietly leaning on Umama to favor their children for consideration in future betrothal marches when the time came. Umama was fiercely protective of her great-grandchildren, even more so since the Infinity War, but she was also a forceful mover and shaker since her return to Birnin Zana. People knew she was the only way to get into N'Jadaka's ear and stay close to the royal inner circle. Yani was much more in favor of letting the children develop their friend groups, grow into Wakandan culture more, and then letting them decide what life partners they wanted. Alas, she knew it wouldn't be that simple. Citizens were aware that she and N'Jadaka would have more children, and unlike the recent monarchs who only had one or two children, the possibility of snagging more than two direct descendants with choices that could join them with the most powerful family in the country was too valuable to ignore.

Joba waved her spoon around to get Yani's attention.

"What is it Sunshine?"

Joba glanced at Riki and he nodded his head encouraging her to speak for them.

"Mama, Riki and I want to have a pool party when we go back home. We told our friends we could have one when we came back before iholide starts. Can we? I know we are supposed to ask permission before we tell people things, but everyone might leave early before we get home," Joba said.

Sydette stared at Yani.

"We wanted to ask sooner but you were already gone and Umama was keeping us from disturbing you. It'll only be a few friends."

"How many is a few?" N'Jadaka asked.

Sydette's gaze dropped to her finished plate of food.

"About twelve…of my friends. And then there's Riki and Joba's friends…and Uncle M'Baku's kids."

N'Jadaka let out a whistle and Yani giggled.

"That's not a few people Sweet Pea, that's about forty kids running around the palace," he said.

"It won't be the palace, just the pool room, Baba," Riki interjected.

N'Jadaka glanced at Yani.

"I have a spa day with Twyla and my Ladies in waiting before my first day as Queen. You'll have to supervise," Yani said quickly before he dropped it all in her lap.

"Baba…please…" Joba whined.

N'Jadaka tossed his linen napkin on the table. He couldn't deny his youngest child anything.

"Okay, okay. Swim party it is. But just for the day, we're not dragging this out…what, Sweet Pea?"

Sydette's dimples popped out and she held up a finger.

"We kinda told everyone it would be a sleepover too. Camping in the garden to see the fireflies."

"Anything else?" N'Jadaka said crossing his arms.

"No dassit, Baba," Riki said grinning like he knew they pulled one over on them.

N'Jadaka latched his gaze onto Yani's. She sipped water from a glass.

"You are in charge," Yani declared.

N'Jadaka stood up from their meal table and the children pounced on him, knocking him onto the carpeted floor and wrestling him. He tickled every underarm and sandaled foot and the peals of laughter flew all around the room. The king lifted back to his feet and led them all back outside where he showed the kids the beauty of the grounds. Riki grabbed N'Jadaka's hand.

"I'm ready to get on the boat, Baba. Let's go!" Riki said.

Sydette and Joba bounced around him agreeing.

"You guys can't be bored with this place already," Yani said.

"We want to go diving and play on the water bouncy mat," Sydette said.

"The Doras have to rest," N'Jadaka said.

"Then you fly the Talon Fighter, they can sleep there," Riki insisted.

Yani touched Riki's shoulder.

"We respect our staff, Dumpling. They work hard to protect you and they deserve rest and time to eat. I know you're excited about the boat, but be mindful, yeah?"

Riki nodded.

"What's over there?" Joba asked.

She pointed to a big tree with thick limbs outstretched across the tranquil part of the river.

"Let's go see,' N'Jadaka said.

He took off running and their children squealed and chased after him. Yani strolled behind them enjoying the sight of her husband playing. It was so rare for him. The eager and excited chatter delighted her once the children noticed the swing tied to the tree that swung out over a giant pond.

Okoye met up with them holding a purple gym travel bag.

"I suppose the little ones would like to have their swimming suits?" Okoye asked.

N'Jadaka put his hands on his hips.

"I dunno Okoye, Riki said he was ready to go out to the houseboat already. I don't think he wants to stick around and use the pond swing."

Riki held up his hands in denial.

"I changed mi mind. I want to stay longer, Baba!"

"You sure? Because I'm pretty sure you were eager to jet outta here."

"Forget what I said. Thank you Dora Okoye."

Riki took the bag from her hand and his sisters followed him back to the villa to change.

"Thank you, Okoye," N'Jadaka said.

Yani grinned, "We'll probably end up leaving later than planned now that the children have this swing to play with."

"No problem, Queen Yani. We'll be ready," Okoye said.

Five minutes later the kids were tearing back down the path wearing colorful swim suits and arm floaties, all thoughts of leaving forgotten. Their bright excited expressions reminded Yani that life was for joy with her family. She turned to look at N'Jadaka, and he was already swinging over the bright green water fully clothed. He released the rope and dropped into the pond with a giant splash, acting like the biggest kid of them all.

Chapter 13 HERE.

Tag List:

@readingaddict1290

@issimplyaamazinggg

@eyeknowmywrites

@kitesatforestp

@fd-writes

@soufcakmistress  

@cherrystainedlipsbaby

@tclaybon  

@thadelightfulone

@allhailqueennel

@bartierbakarimobisson

@cpwtwot

@shookmcgookqueen

@yoyolovesbucky

@raysunshine78

@the-illlestt

@terrablaze514  

@l-auteuse

@amirra88

@jimizwidow

@janelledarling

@chaneajoyyy  

@sweetestdream92  

@purple-apricots

@blackpinup22  

@hennessystevens-udaku

@scrumptiouslytenaciouscrusade

@bugngiz

@stariamrry  

@honeytoffee

@meilintheempressofdreams

@tyees

@eye-raq  

@writerbee-ffs  

@chocolatedream30  

@childishgambinaa  

@mygirlrenee

@thewaysheis—awkward

@tchallasbabymama

@lahuttor

@goodieyaya

@post-woke

@soufcakmistress

@yomiloo

@goddessofthundathighs

@nahimjustfeelingit-writes

@retroxvailles

@cydneyrenee4

@nizzle-mo

@cecereads209

@childishgambinaax

@gopaperless

@bombshellbre95

@tchallasbabymama

@musicisme333

@sister-winter73

@nccu-rnc

@sj206260358

@blmcd57110

@griot-of-wakanda

@xsweetdellzx

@nayaesworld

Erik smacked your ass while his other hand had your long braids around his fist, yanking you back harder into his thrusts. “That pussy just keep gettin’ wetter and wetter for a nigga.” He grunted, the grip on your hips unrelenting.

Sex with Erik had always been intense. You two had been in a relationship for three and a half years now, and you still couldn’t get used to it. It’s like the sex got better each time. Now the sex felt different. Even more intense now that he had something to prove.

The hand gripping your waist snaked under you, and his fingers began to rub your clit. You whined loudly, arching your back as you begged between screams in the pillow. 

“Ahh shit! No, I can’t cum again!” You pulled away from him, causing his dick to slip out of you with a wet squelch, and crawled up the bed. 

He chuckled softly as he watched you scurry up the bed. “Oh, don’t run now, Y/N. You was talkin’ all that shit about a nigga’s stamina, and now you runnin’ from me?”

Erik grabbed your legs and flipped you onto your back, slotting himself between your shaking thighs. His brown eyes were filled with so much lust, he almost looked intoxicated while he stroked himself a few times, rubbing his swollen tip against your sensitive clit.

“Mmm…” you whimpered softly, fingers reaching out to rest on his lower abdomen. You tried to close your legs, but his grip on your thigh was like a vice. He pushed back inside you with ease, stroking you slowly and deliberately as he watched your wet walls stretch around his girthy dick. 

You looked up at him, eyes shining and jaw slack. He grunted softly as he rocked into you harder. “This my pussy?”

You nodded, sinking your teeth into your bottom lip to fight back a shout. 

“Use your words, Y/N.” 

“Yesss,” you choked on a sob, vision blurry now. “This is your pussy, Erik.” 

“That’s what the fuck I thought.” He growled, pounding your walls at a pace so relentless the headboard smacked against the wall over and over.

Your entire body tingled as he brushed your g-spot over and over. Your head thrashed against the pillows as you felt yet another orgasm approaching. You could barely form a sentence coherent enough to warn him. He already knew by the way you clenched around him.

He inhaled sharply and then groaned loudly as he finally felt his own orgasm approaching. “Cum with me, baby.”

Erik came deep inside you, so deep that another orgasm ripped through you. The shocked scream that escaped your throat was hoarse and barely audible. Your thighs shook as tears rolled down your cheeks. His arm was between your bodies as he rubbed your clit and kissed your tear-stained cheeks. “Just breathe, baby. That’s all you gotta do.”

Every syllable felt like another pull, another layer of control and care. It wasn’t pain, it wasn’t punishment; it was too much in the way lightning is too much: bright, alive, and impossible to look away from.

When it finally eased, silence filled the room except for the rain. Your ears could barely hear the Jamie Foxx recording softly bumping from the living room speaker. Erik pressed his forehead to yours, breath unsteady but satisfied. “You still with me, baby?”

You giggled, shaky but sure. “Barely.”

He smiled, the kind that always made you feel safe right after he’d made you tremble. “You look so fuckin’ pretty when you’re loosin’ it on my dick.”

You took a much-needed breath before you spoke. “You plottin’ on my demise, nigga?”

He chuckled loudly, pressing a quick kiss to your lips. “Nah, but I bet yo ass won’t crack another joke about my stamina now, will you?”

“You really lose sleep over this shit, huh?” he questioned. “Over my handwriting? Over my notes?”

“Over your ego,” you corrected. “That thing needs a full engineering team of its own.”

He scoffed, chuckling under his breath like you were both ridiculous…and slightly entertaining.

You flipped to the last page and held it up for him. “Erik. This says ‘fix later.’ That’s it. That’s the whole instruction.”

“Because I was gonna fix it later.”

“WHEN?” you snapped. “In the afterlife? During your reincarnation? Because—”

“Alright, enough.”

Both of you turned as your department director, Brayden, stepped between you with a look reserved for toddlers and chaos goblins.

“You two,” he said, pointing from you to Erik like he was conducting a traffic stop, “are doing a mandatory team-building retreat. Tomorrow. Mountains. Holiday Lodge. Pack a bag.”

You and Erik protested in unison.

“I’m not going with him.”

“I’m not going with her.”

Your boss didn’t even blink. “Too bad. You’re already booked.”

Erik crossed his arms. “I got real work to do.”

“So do I,” you quipped. “I have to fix his manuals before someone gets electrocuted.”

Brayden rubbed his temples like he was actively reconsidering his career choices.

“Listen. Cabin. Mountains. Two days. The storm hasn’t hit yet so you’ll make it up there just fine. Come back Monday acting like adults.”

Erik shot you a look, and you shot him one right back, both of you fighting the urge to stick out your tongue and shoot a bird.

Brayden sighed deeply. “Dear God. Please try not to kill each other.”

Erik leaned closer, dropping his voice just for you. “No promises, Y/N.”

You smiled sweetly and whispered back. “Good. Cause I ain’t promising shit.”

Erik’s truck rumbled through the mountain road like it had an attitude, which made sense, because its owner definitely did.

You sat in the passenger seat with your arms crossed, glaring at the windshield like it personally wronged you. Snowflakes drifted lazily against the glass, but the real chill was inside the car.

He hadn’t said a word since picking you up, so you didn’t either.

Five minutes passed, then ten, then fifteen before he broke the silence, exhaling sharply through his nose before asking, “You always breathe this loud?”

You turned your head slowly, giving him the driest look known to mankind.

“You always drive like an old-ass nigga?”

He gripped the wheel tighter, jaw ticking. “Woman—”

“What?” you snapped. “Speak up. I know you struggle with using your goddamn words.”

He muttered something under his breath that definitely wasn’t workplace appropriate.

As the drive continued, you caught him glancing at you more than once. At your thighs in those skin-tone-colored leggings. At your lips when you took a sip from the raspberry tea in your travel mug. At the way your ombré box braids fell over your shoulder.

He looked away every time, like it irritated him.

Good, you thought. It wasn’t your fault you were the sexiest person to ride in his passenger seat.

You checked the retreat itinerary on your phone. Brayden signed y’all up for damn near everything: workshops, icebreakers, and holiday mixers.

You groaned under your breath. “If they make me do one trust fall, I’m quittin’ on the spot.”

Erik snorted. “You don’t trust niggas anyway.”

“Especially not yo ass.”

“Good,” he muttered. “Keep it that way.”

There was another long moment of silence until you leaned forward to adjust the heat vent.

Erik grumbled, “Should’ve brought some goddamn noise-cancelling headphones…”

You didn’t even look at him. “Should’ve brought a fuck for me to give.”

His fingers clenched the wheel harder. “Oh, I got one,” he muttered.

“Oh yeah? Where? In the glove compartment?”

He pressed his lips together like he was physically restraining himself, but then the snow started picking up. Thick flurries and steady wind, and the road got whiter by the second.

Erik slowed down without you having to tell him. You hated that it was responsible and attractive all at once.

By the time the navy blue Silverado pulled into the lodge grounds, the sky was a full winter postcard. Dark grey clouds, drifting snow, and pine trees dusted like powdered sugar. It would’ve been beautiful if you weren’t stuck with him.

You hopped out before he even cut the engine. Snow crunched under your boots as you marched toward the main lodge. Erik followed, long strides eating the ground behind you. “You don’t even know where you going,” he called.

“I’d rather be lost in the snow than walk next to you.”

“Shit, me too,” he retorted. “A nigga already tired of all the noise you make.”

You didn’t flip him off, but it was in the front of your mind.

Inside, the lobby was warm and cozy with fireplaces, wreaths, and twinkle lights. A real winter wonderland, and neither of you cracked a smile once.

At the front desk, the receptionist beamed. “Welcome! Name?”

You gave your name, and Erik gave his.

She typed and typed, but her smile faltered. “Oh… okay, so… hm…this must be a glitch…I’m not—well, let me double-check something…”

Erik stepped forward. “What glitch?”

She winced at his agitated tone. “Well… due to the incoming storm, some guests canceled. Some rooms…uh…combined? And it looks like you two were assigned…the same room.”

You glared. Erik blinked. The receptionist swallowed.

“And…it also appears there’s only…one working room left in your cabin. With one bed. King-sized.”

Silence only lasted for half a second.

“I know you fuckin’ lying,” you complained.

“Hell nah,” Erik echoed.

The receptionist tried to smile again, but it was the kind people wear during emotional distress. “I’m so sorry, but everything else is booked because of the weather…and the storm is expected to hit harder tonight. You’re…um—lucky you made it up here at all.”

You and Erik turned to each other. You blinked. He glared. The receptionist slid the key across the counter like she was offering a peace treaty.

“Cabin 19,” she giggled nervously. “Have a wonderful holiday!”

The second you stepped outside the lodge, the cold slapped you like it had personal beef. Snowflakes stuck to your eyelashes, wind cut through your coat, and the path to Cabin 19 was a long stretch of frigid misery.

Behind you, Erik dragged both your suitcases with the casual strength of someone who never skipped a day in the gym. His long locs were dusted with snow, his breath fogging in the air as he muttered. “This some bullshit.”

“You volunteering for the couch when we get there?” you shot back, boots crunching.

“Couch? I’m not even sleepin’ in the same room as you.”

You snorted. “Man, be serious. You can barely handle cold weather with yo Oakland-raised ass. Your knees probably crying under those pants.”

He stopped walking and then slowly looked you up and down, long enough to be disrespectful, and then smirked. “Worry about your own knees, Mama. I heard you don’t like kneeling for too long anyway.”

You whipped around, scandalized. “EXCUSE ME?”

He shrugged, biting back a laugh. “I’m just saying. Lotta power in them thighs. Probably gotta conserve energy and shit.”

You threw a handful of snow at him. He ate the impact, dusted it off his chest, and smirked wider. “See? Aggressive for no reason.”

“NO REASON?” you snapped. “YOU STARTED IT, ERIK.”

“And you finish it every time.” His voice dipped lower, too close to flirtatious for your comfort.

You spun and stormed ahead. “Can’t stand you,” you muttered.

“Good,” he said behind you. “I like the view from back here anyway.”

Your steps faltered for a moment before you continued your stride, but he definitely saw, and he enjoyed how he got under your skin far too much.

Cabin 19 sat at the edge of the woods. It was cozy, snow-dusted, with warm light glowing in the windows like something out of a movie. You were too annoyed to appreciate it.

Erik unlocked the door, brushed past you, and stomped his boots on the entry mat. You stepped inside behind him, toes off your boots, and nearly gasped in awe. It was beautiful. High wooden beams, a gigantic stone fireplace, fur blankets draped over the couch, and pine wreaths littered with soft holiday lights. You hated that you loved it.

“What?” Erik said, tossing his gloves on the table. “Don’t tell me you impressed.”

“I ain’t even say nothing.”

“You ain’t have to. Your face doing the most.”

You glared at him, and he glared right back; then the heater kicked on and immediately shut off with a loud, metallic clunk.

You blinked. He blinked.

“…the hell was that?” he muttered.

You walked over to the thermostat and tapped it. No blinking lights and no hum. The cabin was losing heat fast.

You turned slowly. “Erik?”

“Mmhmm?”

“Can’t engineers fix this?”

He stared at you like you’d asked him to build a spaceship. “It’s a heating unit, not a damn battle mech. I don’t even have my tools.”

You crossed your arms. “Wow. So you’re useless.”

He stepped closer, towering over you with that beautifully irritating height of his. “Say that shit again.”

You swallowed, breath catching despite yourself.

He smirked knowingly. “Yeah. That’s what the fuck I thought.”

He walked past you to the fireplace, kneeling to check the logs.

“This the only heat source we got right now,” he said. “Good thing one of us knows how to start a fire.”

“Oh, nigga please—”

“Be quiet and watch.” His tone was overly confident and warm, borderline sinful.

He struck a match, set the logs, and coaxed the flame until it roared to life. The sparks were dancing, firelight casting gold across his locs and shoulders.

You hated how good he looked doing basic survival tasks. He sat back on his heels, glancing up at you.

“Don’t start clapping for a nigga,” he teased. “I know you impressed.”

“It was literally a match,” you deadpanned.

“Yeah, but you lookin’ at me like I invented fire.”

“I—” You choked. “I am not!”

“Sure,” he said, standing. “Whatever’s gonna help you sleep tonight.”

You marched into the bedroom to escape him, which was a big mistake because there was only one bed. One enormous, fluffy, fur-blanketed bed…in a single-room cabin.

You groaned so loud it echoed. “Oh, FUCK no.”

Erik stepped in behind you, took one look at the bed, and hissed through his teeth. “Man—this retreat already starting with disrespect.”

You spun. “We’re not sharing.”

“Good,” he said. “I’d rather sleep outside.”

“Be my guest.”

“I will.”

You pointed toward the window. “Snow is literally rising as we speak.”

He shrugged. “So?”

“So?!” you snapped. “You’re gonna freeze!”

He smirked. “Aw. You worried about me?”

“I ain’t say all that…”

“Then I’m good.”

You both stared at each other, irritated, stubborn, and breathing too hard. As the fire crackled loudly in the other room, the snowstorm intensified outside.

He took a step closer, and you didn’t back up, so he took another step, but you still didn’t move. Now he was inches away, much closer than coworkers should be, closer than enemies should ever get.

His voice dropped before asking, “You scared you might actually like sharing a bed with me, Y/N?”

You scoffed, but your pulse jumped. “I don’t like anything about you.”

“Lie again.”

You opened your mouth, but nothing came out.

He leaned in, breath brushing your cheek, eyes dropping to your lips for half a second too long. “Thought so.”

Your heart hammered, but somehow your pride held firm.

“We’re not sharing,” you blurted.

He smirked. “Aight. Then you can sleep by the fire.”

You blinked. “Excuse me?”

He gestured lazily toward the living room. “You scared of the dark?”

You stepped into his space fully. “You are infuriating.”

He grinned slowly and wickedly, inviting trouble. “And what the fuck does that make you?”

The tension was electric, one spark away from igniting.

The cabin lights flickered twice, then everything went dark. The heater died first, followed by the overheads and then the gentle hum of appliances.

The cabin was filled with silence. The snow pounding against the windows like iron fists was the only audible sound.

You inhaled sharply. “Erik…?”

He cursed under his breath. “Shit. It looks like the storm kicked out the power.”

You crossed your arms, annoyed at mother nature herself. “Of course we are.”

He grabbed your wrist surprisingly gently and guided you toward the living room, where the fireplace still glowed. “Stay close, Mama.”

You snatched your hand back. “I am close.”

“Good,” he muttered. “Try not to wander off and fall into a snowbank.”

You sat on the fur blanket in front of the fire, refusing to look at him. The wind howled outside, the storm raging harder than either of your attitudes.

Erik tossed a few extra logs onto the flames, the fire crackling hotter and brighter, throwing gold across his arms and locs as he worked.

You hated how good he looked illuminated like that. You hated that he knew you noticed.

He dusted off his hands. “This storm’s gonna trap us in here all night.”

“Fantastic.”

“No heater,” he continued, settling across from you. “No lights. No extra blankets. Gonna get cold.”

You eyed the flames. “I’ll manage.”

He huffed a laugh. “Right. Sure.”

You glared. “What’s that supposed to mean? You don’t know me, nigga.”

“Oh, I know your dramatic ass good and plenty.” He ranted. “You think I don’t notice how cold you get at work when the AC drops below seventy-three degrees? But yeah, you muhfuckin Ororo Munroe, so you’ll survive.”

You grabbed a fur throw and pulled it dramatically over your shoulders.

He had the audacity to smirk.

The minutes that passed turned into half an hour. The temperature dropped significantly. The kind of cold that traveled all the way down to your bones. 

You scooted closer to the fire without thinking, and so did Erik. Somehow, without either of you consciously deciding to do so, your knees brushed against each other. You both froze, but neither of you pulled away.

The fire popped loudly, orange sparks dancing upward. Erik’s gaze slid to where your knees touched, then slowly traveled upward to your thighs and your waist, stopping on your face.

His jaw tightened. “You cold?”

“Nope.”

“You lying.”

He reached over, grabbed the end of the fur blanket, and tugged it over himself too. Now you were forced to shift closer or lose the warmth completely.

Your shoulders grazed as your thighs pressed together under the blanket. Your breath caught, unsteady and embarrassingly audible. Erik noticed of course and leaned in slightly, voice low.

“You shake like that every time you sit next to me?”

You swallowed. “Nah. Just when you won’t shut the fuck up.”

His lips twitched like he was suppressing a grin. “That right?”

You glared at him, but your voice softened without permission. “You think you’re irresistible.”

He leaned even closer, the firelight gilding his features, eyes locked on yours with a focus that felt dangerous.

“And you think you don’t stare at me every time I fix something in the office.”

Your face heated. “I don’t stare.”

“You do.” He reached forward and brushed a snowflake from your braid, slowly and deliberately. “You staring right now.”

You tried to look away, but your eyes were glued to his face.

The air thickened. and your breath hitched. Erik Stevens, your workplace nemesis, professional irritant, and human nightmare, shifted closer until your noses brushed.

“Tell me you don’t feel this,” he murmured.

Your pulse pounded as the fire crackled and the wind slammed against the cabin walls.

“Admit that you been wanting a nigga,” he whispered again, kobicha brown eyes dropping briefly to your lips.

You opened your mouth to deny it or to insult him, but the words tangled in your throat, refusing to come out.

He saw your silence and confirmed the truth inside it.

Slowly his hand slid to your waist, careful and testing, like he expected you to shove him away, but you didn’t.

You inhaled sharply, your body betraying you entirely.

Erik’s jaw flexed. “Uh-huh.”

The fire roared in front of you, heat blooming between you in a way that had nothing to do with flames. There was no more room for snarky jabs as you two teetered on the edge of something inevitable.

Erik’s hand stayed on your waist, warm and firm, his thumb sweeping once across the fabric of your shirt, subtly claiming.

You tried to speak, you tried to gather an insult, and you tried to remember why you hated this man, but the words dissolved on your tongue, swallowed by the tension pressing your bodies closer inch by inch.

“You really piss me the fuck off,” you expressed, barely audible.

He let out an alarming chuckle. “I don’t even be doin’ shit,” he insisted, leaning in until his breath brushed your lips. “You just like arguin’ with a nigga.”

You opened your mouth to snap back, but he cut off the protest before it formed by kissing you hard. A crash of heat and impatience and every unspoken thing that had been building for months. Your hand shot to his chest out of instinct to push him away, but your fingers curled into his sweater instead. His other hand slid to the back of your neck, pulling you deeper into the kiss like he’d been waiting far too long and finally lost control.

You gasped against his mouth. “I—Erik…”

He didn’t give you space to recover. “You talk too damn much,” he muttered against your lips.

“You—” You started, but your voice broke when he kissed you again, slower this time, deeper, the kind of kiss that etched its shape into your memory.

You made one single, fatal mistake. You leaned into him the tiniest bit. Just enough for him to feel it. His breath hitched, a low sound you had never heard from him, and then his hands gripped your waist again, this time with purpose.

“C’mere, Mama,” he said, voice a rumble.

Before you could question the command, he tightened the hold on your hips, lifted you like you weighed nothing, and pulled you straight into his lap.

A startled squeak escaped you, but your arms were already looping around his shoulders for balance, your thick thighs bracketing his hips as the fur blanket slipped down around you both.

His palms settled on your curves, firm and sure, anchoring you there. You felt the breath punch out of both of you when you landed against his chest.

“You really shouldn’t be sittin’ here,” he swallowed hard, eyes locked on yours and burning. “Cause I’m not lettin’ you back up.”

Your heart thundered as your forehead brushed his without meaning to.

“You going to push me away?” he asked softly, almost a dare, almost a plea.

You didn’t move or blink, still processing the fact that he just set you on his lap like you belonged there.

He grinned triumphantly and said, “Didn’t think so.” before he captured your lips in a starving kiss, both of you tipping fully into the heat you’d been fighting since the moment you met.

You were still recovering from the shock as he settled you fully onto him, the fire casting gold across both your faces. Erik’s hands gripped the hem of your long-sleeve shirt, and you raised your arms so he could lift it over your head and toss it to the side. He didn’t unfasten your bra, but his thumbs stroked at the soft skin under the latch, slow circles like he didn’t even realize he was doing it. Like touching you was instinct. Like it was his god-given right.

Your forehead brushed his again, softer this time and his breathing slowed like he was trying to steady himself and failing miserably.

“Why you shakin’, Y/N?” he whispered, voice velvety warm. “You scared of me…or what you feel?”

You swallowed, fingers tightening in the fabric of his shirt.

“Neither,” you lied.

“Yeah, you are,” he hummed, leaning in to kiss the corner of your mouth. “I am too.”

That admission and his lips snatched the air right out of your lungs. He kissed you again, much slower, like he was memorizing your lips. His hands at your back guided you closer until your chest met his and your heartbeat thudded right against him.

The storm outside howled and the cabin groaned, but in that moment, all you felt was him.

Erik tilted his head, his mouth tracing a slow path to your jaw, his breath warm against your skin.

“You drive me fuckin’ crazy at work,” he admitted between soft kisses. “All that attitude. All that fire.” His left hand moved to your ass, squeezing the flesh through your leggings. “Couldn’t stand you…because I wanted you.”

Your breath hitched involuntarily as he landed a sharp slap on your ass.

“You want me?” he asked.

You nodded, and that was all the permission he needed. He kissed down your throat slowly and reverently, like you were something he’d been starving for but didn’t dare ruin by moving too fast.

Your fingers dug into his shoulders, bold now, as you pulled him closer as the crackling fire warmed both your bodies. His locs brushed your cheek when he lifted his head to meet your gaze again.

His eyes softened. “Relax, Mama.”

You were already anxious, but you leaned in anyway, pressing into him, letting your full weight settle on his lap. You gasped quietly as your heat brushed against the erection in his pants. He was huge. You rocked down once to be certain, and he inhaled sharply, hands tightening with a low, quiet groan he failed to suppress.

The sound catapulted heat through your entire body, and your clit throbbed in anticipation. He kissed you again, this time with the fierce tenderness of someone who’d been holding back for far too long. No rush. No hurry. Just heat rising slow and inevitable, like the fire dancing behind you.

One of his hands slid up your spine, unsnapping your bra; the other anchored your side. Your fingers curled into his locs, and you sighed as he kissed the top of your left breast. He exhaled your name like it was a confession, pulling back just enough to rest his forehead against yours, breath unsteady, voice raw.

“Tell me to stop.”

Your lips brushed his forehead in a ghost of a kiss. “For once I don’t want you to stop.”

He groaned softly as he took your hardened nipple in his mouth, sucking firmly. You moaned his name as he alternated between each breast, giving equal attention to both.

After a few minutes he pulled back just enough to study you, like he was memorizing every microexpression you made.

You were breathless and flustered, still trying to pretend you weren’t melting in his lap.

“Oh yeah,” he smirked, thumb brushing your bottom lip, “you a problem.”

You tried to glare at him, but it was hard to be convincing when you were straddling him and shaking.

“Get over yourself,” you managed to mutter out.

He let out a sound of amusement, the kind of laugh meant to pin you exactly where you were.

“There she go,” he announced fondly. “My little brat.”

Your pulse jumped as his hand slid down your chest, past your tummy, slow enough to make your breath catch, then stopped in between your thighs, his other hand pushing you down against his hard dick.

“You talk a lot of shit,” he murmured, “but I bet that pussy soakin’ for a nigga.”

You scoffed and shifted like you were going to get off his lap. He didn’t let you. His hands tightened instantly, pulling you back down in one fluid, unquestionable motion.

“Nah,” he whispered, voice dipping. “Stop fuckin’ playin’ with me.”

Your breath stuttered. “Erik—”

“Uh-uh,” he said, leaning in, lips grazing your ear without touching. “That attitude got a limit…and you hittin’ it.”

You shivered, heat skimming the back of your neck and thighs clenching.

His fingers lifted your chin gently but firmly. “Look at me.”

You did because you couldn’t not.

His eyes softened, not so much in a sweet way but in a certain way. The kind of look that pulled the fight right out of you.

“That’s better,” he praised. “Be nice to Daddy.”

You opened your mouth to fire back some petty remark, but he was already moving, his hands gripping your soft sides, his gaze dropping lower and lower.

He glanced at your socks peeking out from under the blanket a moment too long. In one smooth motion he removed a sock, revealing your French-tipped toes, and something in his expression shifted, subtle and hungry, like he hadn’t meant to react but couldn’t hide it either.

You caught it immediately.

“What?” you asked, eyeing him suspiciously.

He huffed a laugh like you’d uncovered state secrets.

“Nothing,” he muttered unconvincingly.

“Oh nah,” you said, narrowing your eyes. “Say it.”

His tongue swept over his bottom lip thoughtfully before he met your gaze again. “You don’t wanna know what I’m thinking.”

That shouldn’t have sent heat down your spine, but it did, so you pressed, “Try me.”

He leaned back just enough to look you over from your eyes…to your mouth…to your perky nipples…then down to your other foot, tugging the sock off.

“Your feet,” he said quietly, “gonna get me in trouble.”

Your breath caught. “I—what?”

He dragged one hand down your thigh, stopping right above your ankle, fingers grazing over your toes.

“I’ve been trying not to look,” he murmured. “At work. Today. Right now.”

You stared at him, stunned.

He continued, “Especially when you get them painted white or lavender. I can’t focus on a damn thing at work when your toes out.”

He smiled, completely unbothered by your shock.

“Thought you were observant,” he teased. “Guess not.”

You pulled your leg back instinctively. He gripped your ankle gently, firm enough to make your breath stutter.

“Don’t hide,” he whispered. “Not from me.”

The last shred of resolve slipped inside you, and you surrendered. He exhaled like he’d been waiting for that exact moment.

“That’s it,” he murmured, his thumb stroking the back of your ankle once, lightly, reverently. “See? You not as tough as you pretend.”

“I am,” you shot back weakly.

He leaned forward, nose brushing yours. “No, you not and that’s why I like you.”

Your heartbeat stuttered into a run when he pushed you down against his straining erection while he lifted his hips to meet your warmth. You whimpered softly as his zipper brushed against your clit. His eyes dropped to your lips again. “You done fightin’ me?”

“Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, Daddy.”

He hummed, pleased, sliding one hand up your spine in a slow, claiming stroke.

“That’s what I like to hear,” he whispered against your mouth.

His next kiss was consuming. The kind of kiss that said we’re way past the point of pretending now. His hand snaked inside the front of your leggings, and his fingers found your clit with ease. His thumb circled your clit through your panties, and your eyes fluttered closed as you gasped his name.

“E—Erik.”

“Mmm,” he groaned. “I barely even touched you, and this pussy already drippin’ for me.”

His free hand tore a hole in your leggings all the way to your ass, ruining them, but before you could complain, he yanked your panties to the side and circled your clit harder with his thumb, while his middle finger traced your slit, your wetness coating his finger as he dipped it inside you.

“Goddamn,” Erik exhaled as he admired your fat pussy. “So wet and soft. Warmer than I imagined.”

“Erik.”

“Why you was hiding all this from me?”

“Erik.”

“Tell me.” He grunted softly as he inserted a second finger without warning, thrusting slowly. “Tight-ass fuckin’ pussy.”

A loud moan escaped you when he curled his fingers deeper and thrust faster, his thumb circling your clit with more pressure.

“Eri—ohfuckohfuck—Erik, please!

Without warning, he pulled his fingers out, grumbling under his breath about not being able to wait any longer, as he unbuckled his jeans and tugged them down just enough with his briefs. His dick came free, hard, long, and heavy. A girth like no other.

Your mouth fell open and your eyes widened in utter amazement. You could feel how huge he was when you put all your weight on his lap, but you had no idea he was packing that much. Was that supposed to go inside you? On what planet and in what timeline?!

“I need to be inside you, Mama,” he groaned softly as he stroked himself. “Can I put it in?”

“Wait—you don’t want no head first or—um…to get more comfortable—“

“I’m the most comfortable I’ll ever be now that I got you in my lap.”

“At least take your sweater off, E.”

He dropped his dick and lifted his sweater over his head and tossed it aside, gold chain shining against his smooth, toned chest. 

You met his gaze steadily, brushing his locs back from his face and shoulders. “I want you inside me.”

For a beat, he just looked at you like he was savoring the shift, the way tenderness tipped into heat. There was no going back to just coworkers after this. He pulled at the hole on your leggings until enough of your ass was free for him to cup, ripping your panties in the process. You didn’t even bother to comment because his brute strength did something to you.

You lowered yourself onto him, both of you inhaled sharply as he eased in carefully, inch by inch. The stretch damn near tilted your world on its axis. Your fingers gripped the back of his neck, your arms bringing him closer to you.

“Fuuuck,” he rasped, warm puffs of breath tickling your neck. “Tighter than—“

“Erik…”

His name flowed from your lips like a prayer, and suddenly it was him who was undone. Heat traveled through him as you began to bounce slowly and steadily, adjusting to his massive size, and the sting from the stretch gradually subsided.

“Shit, don't say Daddy's name like that," he rasped, breathless and on the verge of snapping.

“I can’t help it. You feel too good.”

“Goddamn,” he groaned, trying with all his might to not bust embarrassingly quick. “You feel too good, Y/N. Too fuckin’ good.”

You clutched his shoulders, coffin nails biting lightly into his skin, gasping his name. The sound of his name being moaned like that wrecked him. He thought he would let you lead with your slow bounces at first, but every time his name slipped past your lips, he lost a little more control.

The pace quickened, and you both settled on an intense rhythm as sweat began to slick your chests. Broken breaths syncing with your impeccable rocks.

“What’s my name?” He asked, hands reaching up to cup your face and bring your lips down against his.

You were so full and stretched you forgot how to speak for a moment. Every deliberate stroke and every perfectly timed hip thrust drew a needy moan out of you; every kiss left you wrecked. He wouldn’t let you look away from him, eyes locked like he was pulling the word out of your soul.

“Say it,” he commanded, voice rough.

“Daddy—” you gasped, clutching his shoulders.

“Again.”

“Daddy!”

He groaned as his hips stuttered, his control fraying. “Fuck…that’s it, baby. You mine now, and I’m yours.” Then his voice dropped to a sinful whisper, testing the nickname he just knew would unravel you. “Such a good girl for Daddy.”

You cried out, head thrown back, the praise detonating inside you. Those two words from him tipped you over the edge. You shuddered violently, the orgasm tearing through you so hard it felt like every single nerve in your body was on fire.

“Oh shit—if praise was all it took to get you to open up then I went about this shit all wrong from the beginning.”

You were still whimpering and shaking in his lap, still being stretched to the brim.

“That’s okay though. I’m making up for it all night.”

Once you caught your breath, you started bouncing again, but he had other plans. He planted his feet on the floor and dropped his hands back to your waist, and his grip was almost as tight as you when he began hammering into you, tempo merciless.

“Eri—fuckmefuckme—don’t sto—stop!”

He leaned close, lips brushing your ear as he grunted loudly. “Take it for me, pretty girl.”

It wasn’t just the words, but it was the way he said them. Smooth but commanding, drenched in reverence and filth at the same damn time. Like he was worshiping and owning you with each movement.

Your body reacted instantly, back arching, thighs trembling, breath catching in a sob. You bounced harder, fucking him back and he slapped your ass cheek over and over.

Thwap. Thwap. Thwap. Thwap.

“Mmhmm, just like that,” he encouraged. “Use that dick.”

You moaned, placing your hands on his chest, gripping his pecs as you swirled your hips, picking up an unrelenting speed.

“Erik—” you cried, already close to the edge again.

His smirk was lethal. “Ohhh, I heard that. You like that name too, huh? Say it back.”

“Pretty girl,” you whimpered brokenly, but it wasn’t enough.

“Louder,” he growled, hips pistoning harder. “Let me hear you.”

“Daddy—Erik—fuck—your pretty girl!”

“Mmhmm. I can feel it,” Erik groaned, sliding one hand to your throat and squeezing just enough to make your breath hitch, his other clutching your hip. “Come on this dick again, Mama.”

“I’m gonna—I—fuuuck!”

The tension coiled tighter, and the euphoric hum sparkled under your skin as he fucked you through your second orgasm. The wet squelching and sharp panting filled the room, outdoing the booming gusts of wind from the storm. It felt too good.

You still couldn’t believe your most annoying coworker was giving you so much pleasure. He was literally fucking the breath right out of your lungs. You were loving every filthy minute of it. If your boss wanted to send you two on more team-building quests, then sign you the fuck up.

You bit your bottom lip as you caught his reaction to you squeezing your walls around his tip as you bounced up and unclenching when you came down.

Erik bit down on your shoulder, voice wrecked. “Fuck, Mama—I can’t hold it—” he huffed, rutting up into you sloppily.

You seized the opportunity by whispering the knockout blow right into his ear. “Come for me, Daddy. Paint my fuckin’ walls.”

His whole body shuddered, and the groan that ripped out of him was primal, his release hitting so hard it dragged you over right with him. You both came together, gripping each other like your lives depended on it and panting harshly like you just ran a 20k marathon under ninety minutes.

His mouth found yours in a feral kiss, all tongue and teeth and desperation, swallowing your moans until you were both gasping for air.

After a few minutes you finally eased off him, your slicked thighs trembling as much as his as you swung a wobbly leg over him and fell back against the blanket. His spent dick twitched weakly against his thigh, still leaking as it softened.

“Wake me up in about twenty minutes, please.” You muttered as you closed your eyes, breath regulating. Not a care in the world as he watched his come ooze out of you onto the blanket. His amused snort was the last thing you heard before you drifted off.

—

Warmth was the first thing you registered when you woke up. The heavy kind that came after exhaustion and too much pleasure to process. Your limbs ached in all the right places, and your spine felt like it had melted into the mattress.

Wait—a mattress?

Your eyes snapped open. You were splayed out against the sheets, a thick duvet pulled up to your chin, and your clothes were folded neatly on the wooden rocking chair. The faint scent of freshly brewed coffee and cedar lingered in the air.

You sat up abruptly, wincing with bittersweet regret because, wow, your body remembered the ride you went on last night.

“The fu—?”

You hadn’t fallen asleep in the bed. You’d fallen asleep on the floor. On top of the fur blanket. Completely wrecked and telling him to wake you in twenty minutes.

You pressed a hand to your forehead. “Oh my God…”

A deep voice drifted from the doorway. “Rise and shine, brat.”

You jumped a little, head snapping toward him. Erik leaned against the frame, arms crossed, long locs falling over one shoulder, only wearing sweatpants and that smug, devastating smirk that said he knew exactly what he did last night.

You blinked at him, then at the bed, then at your clean skin. “…Did you—”

“Yeah,” he answered before you finished. “I carried you to the bed and tucked you in.”

Your cheeks warmed, and words caught in your throat.

“You were out, Mama,” he continued, walking in casually with two mugs like the room didn’t still smell faintly of heat and him. “Like out out. Couldn’t just leave yo ass on the floor.”

You blinked. “And you—”

“Cleaned you up,” he said simply. “You were a mess. My mess.”

Your soul left your body.

He shrugged, like he hadn’t just said something illegal. “I take care of what I break.”

“ERIK—”

“What?” he asked, amused. “You mad I didn’t leave you sticky on a blanket like some savage?”

You buried your face in your hands as he chuckled, setting the mugs down on the bedside table before he sat on the edge of the bed beside you.

“Relax, Mama,” he said softly. “You were asleep before you even hit the blanket. I wasn’t about to let you freeze.”

You peeked at him through your fingers. “Why didn’t you wake me?”

“You really think twenty minutes was enough time for you to recover from all that?” He gestured vaguely toward you. “You slept like you got knocked out by a heavyweight champ.”

You threw a pillow, and it hit him square in the chest.

He caught it with one hand, smirk deepening. “There she go,” he teased. “My pretty girl.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Why not? You liked it last night.”

You couldn’t even come up with a quick rebuttal.

He leaned closer, voice dipping, brown eyes warm in a way that made your stomach flip and thighs clench.

“And for the record,” he murmured, “you looked good sleeping in my arms. We will be falling asleep like that more often.”

Oop, he wasn’t fucking around.

He reached up, brushing a stray braid from your cheek with a gentleness that contrasted wildly with the way he’d handled you last night.

“You hungry?” he asked, like the question didn’t carry a thousand implications. “Power came on about half an hour ago. I can make you a omelette. You look like you need sustenance.”

You nodded and whispered. “What about you?”

He smiled confidently, eyes sparkling with mischief. “Oh, I been waitin’ on you to wake up so I can have my meal.”

“Why you had to wait on me—“

You threw another pillow at him when it clicked what his freaky ass wanted to actually eat for breakfast.

He laughed, ducking it, then stood and headed toward the kitchen.

“You really lose sleep over this shit, huh?” he questioned. “Over my handwriting? Over my notes?”

“Over your ego,” you corrected. “That thing needs a full engineering team of its own.”

He scoffed, chuckling under his breath like you were both ridiculous…and slightly entertaining.

You flipped to the last page and held it up for him. “Erik. This says ‘fix later.’ That’s it. That’s the whole instruction.”

“Because I was gonna fix it later.”

“WHEN?” you snapped. “In the afterlife? During your reincarnation? Because—”

“Alright, enough.”

Both of you turned as your department director, Brayden, stepped between you with a look reserved for toddlers and chaos goblins.

“You two,” he said, pointing from you to Erik like he was conducting a traffic stop, “are doing a mandatory team-building retreat. Tomorrow. Mountains. Holiday Lodge. Pack a bag.”

You and Erik protested in unison.

“I’m not going with him.”

“I’m not going with her.”

Your boss didn’t even blink. “Too bad. You’re already booked.”

Erik crossed his arms. “I got real work to do.”

“So do I,” you quipped. “I have to fix his manuals before someone gets electrocuted.”

Brayden rubbed his temples like he was actively reconsidering his career choices.

“Listen. Cabin. Mountains. Two days. The storm hasn’t hit yet so you’ll make it up there just fine. Come back Monday acting like adults.”

Erik shot you a look, and you shot him one right back, both of you fighting the urge to stick out your tongue and shoot a bird.

Brayden sighed deeply. “Dear God. Please try not to kill each other.”

Erik leaned closer, dropping his voice just for you. “No promises, Y/N.”

You smiled sweetly and whispered back. “Good. Cause I ain’t promising shit.”

Erik’s truck rumbled through the mountain road like it had an attitude, which made sense, because its owner definitely did.

You sat in the passenger seat with your arms crossed, glaring at the windshield like it personally wronged you. Snowflakes drifted lazily against the glass, but the real chill was inside the car.

He hadn’t said a word since picking you up, so you didn’t either.

Five minutes passed, then ten, then fifteen before he broke the silence, exhaling sharply through his nose before asking, “You always breathe this loud?”

You turned your head slowly, giving him the driest look known to mankind.

“You always drive like an old-ass nigga?”

He gripped the wheel tighter, jaw ticking. “Woman—”

“What?” you snapped. “Speak up. I know you struggle with using your goddamn words.”

He muttered something under his breath that definitely wasn’t workplace appropriate.

As the drive continued, you caught him glancing at you more than once. At your thighs in those skin-tone-colored leggings. At your lips when you took a sip from the raspberry tea in your travel mug. At the way your ombré box braids fell over your shoulder.

He looked away every time, like it irritated him.

Good, you thought. It wasn’t your fault you were the sexiest person to ride in his passenger seat.

You checked the retreat itinerary on your phone. Brayden signed y’all up for damn near everything: workshops, icebreakers, and holiday mixers.

You groaned under your breath. “If they make me do one trust fall, I’m quittin’ on the spot.”

Erik snorted. “You don’t trust niggas anyway.”

“Especially not yo ass.”

“Good,” he muttered. “Keep it that way.”

There was another long moment of silence until you leaned forward to adjust the heat vent.

Erik grumbled, “Should’ve brought some goddamn noise-cancelling headphones…”

You didn’t even look at him. “Should’ve brought a fuck for me to give.”

His fingers clenched the wheel harder. “Oh, I got one,” he muttered.

“Oh yeah? Where? In the glove compartment?”

He pressed his lips together like he was physically restraining himself, but then the snow started picking up. Thick flurries and steady wind, and the road got whiter by the second.

Erik slowed down without you having to tell him. You hated that it was responsible and attractive all at once.

By the time the navy blue Silverado pulled into the lodge grounds, the sky was a full winter postcard. Dark grey clouds, drifting snow, and pine trees dusted like powdered sugar. It would’ve been beautiful if you weren’t stuck with him.

You hopped out before he even cut the engine. Snow crunched under your boots as you marched toward the main lodge. Erik followed, long strides eating the ground behind you. “You don’t even know where you going,” he called.

“I’d rather be lost in the snow than walk next to you.”

“Shit, me too,” he retorted. “A nigga already tired of all the noise you make.”

You didn’t flip him off, but it was in the front of your mind.

Inside, the lobby was warm and cozy with fireplaces, wreaths, and twinkle lights. A real winter wonderland, and neither of you cracked a smile once.

At the front desk, the receptionist beamed. “Welcome! Name?”

You gave your name, and Erik gave his.

She typed and typed, but her smile faltered. “Oh… okay, so… hm…this must be a glitch…I’m not—well, let me double-check something…”

Erik stepped forward. “What glitch?”

She winced at his agitated tone. “Well… due to the incoming storm, some guests canceled. Some rooms…uh…combined? And it looks like you two were assigned…the same room.”

You glared. Erik blinked. The receptionist swallowed.

“And…it also appears there’s only…one working room left in your cabin. With one bed. King-sized.”

Silence only lasted for half a second.

“I know you fuckin’ lying,” you complained.

“Hell nah,” Erik echoed.

The receptionist tried to smile again, but it was the kind people wear during emotional distress. “I’m so sorry, but everything else is booked because of the weather…and the storm is expected to hit harder tonight. You’re…um—lucky you made it up here at all.”

You and Erik turned to each other. You blinked. He glared. The receptionist slid the key across the counter like she was offering a peace treaty.

“Cabin 19,” she giggled nervously. “Have a wonderful holiday!”

The second you stepped outside the lodge, the cold slapped you like it had personal beef. Snowflakes stuck to your eyelashes, wind cut through your coat, and the path to Cabin 19 was a long stretch of frigid misery.

Behind you, Erik dragged both your suitcases with the casual strength of someone who never skipped a day in the gym. His long locs were dusted with snow, his breath fogging in the air as he muttered. “This some bullshit.”

“You volunteering for the couch when we get there?” you shot back, boots crunching.

“Couch? I’m not even sleepin’ in the same room as you.”

You snorted. “Man, be serious. You can barely handle cold weather with yo Oakland-raised ass. Your knees probably crying under those pants.”

He stopped walking and then slowly looked you up and down, long enough to be disrespectful, and then smirked. “Worry about your own knees, Mama. I heard you don’t like kneeling for too long anyway.”

You whipped around, scandalized. “EXCUSE ME?”

He shrugged, biting back a laugh. “I’m just saying. Lotta power in them thighs. Probably gotta conserve energy and shit.”

You threw a handful of snow at him. He ate the impact, dusted it off his chest, and smirked wider. “See? Aggressive for no reason.”

“NO REASON?” you snapped. “YOU STARTED IT, ERIK.”

“And you finish it every time.” His voice dipped lower, too close to flirtatious for your comfort.

You spun and stormed ahead. “Can’t stand you,” you muttered.

“Good,” he said behind you. “I like the view from back here anyway.”

Your steps faltered for a moment before you continued your stride, but he definitely saw, and he enjoyed how he got under your skin far too much.

Cabin 19 sat at the edge of the woods. It was cozy, snow-dusted, with warm light glowing in the windows like something out of a movie. You were too annoyed to appreciate it.

Erik unlocked the door, brushed past you, and stomped his boots on the entry mat. You stepped inside behind him, toes off your boots, and nearly gasped in awe. It was beautiful. High wooden beams, a gigantic stone fireplace, fur blankets draped over the couch, and pine wreaths littered with soft holiday lights. You hated that you loved it.

“What?” Erik said, tossing his gloves on the table. “Don’t tell me you impressed.”

“I ain’t even say nothing.”

“You ain’t have to. Your face doing the most.”

You glared at him, and he glared right back; then the heater kicked on and immediately shut off with a loud, metallic clunk.

You blinked. He blinked.

“…the hell was that?” he muttered.

You walked over to the thermostat and tapped it. No blinking lights and no hum. The cabin was losing heat fast.

You turned slowly. “Erik?”

“Mmhmm?”

“Can’t engineers fix this?”

He stared at you like you’d asked him to build a spaceship. “It’s a heating unit, not a damn battle mech. I don’t even have my tools.”

You crossed your arms. “Wow. So you’re useless.”

He stepped closer, towering over you with that beautifully irritating height of his. “Say that shit again.”

You swallowed, breath catching despite yourself.

He smirked knowingly. “Yeah. That’s what the fuck I thought.”

He walked past you to the fireplace, kneeling to check the logs.

“This the only heat source we got right now,” he said. “Good thing one of us knows how to start a fire.”

“Oh, nigga please—”

“Be quiet and watch.” His tone was overly confident and warm, borderline sinful.

He struck a match, set the logs, and coaxed the flame until it roared to life. The sparks were dancing, firelight casting gold across his locs and shoulders.

You hated how good he looked doing basic survival tasks. He sat back on his heels, glancing up at you.

“Don’t start clapping for a nigga,” he teased. “I know you impressed.”

“It was literally a match,” you deadpanned.

“Yeah, but you lookin’ at me like I invented fire.”

“I—” You choked. “I am not!”

“Sure,” he said, standing. “Whatever’s gonna help you sleep tonight.”

You marched into the bedroom to escape him, which was a big mistake because there was only one bed. One enormous, fluffy, fur-blanketed bed…in a single-room cabin.

You groaned so loud it echoed. “Oh, FUCK no.”

Erik stepped in behind you, took one look at the bed, and hissed through his teeth. “Man—this retreat already starting with disrespect.”

You spun. “We’re not sharing.”

“Good,” he said. “I’d rather sleep outside.”

“Be my guest.”

“I will.”

You pointed toward the window. “Snow is literally rising as we speak.”

He shrugged. “So?”

“So?!” you snapped. “You’re gonna freeze!”

He smirked. “Aw. You worried about me?”

“I ain’t say all that…”

“Then I’m good.”

You both stared at each other, irritated, stubborn, and breathing too hard. As the fire crackled loudly in the other room, the snowstorm intensified outside.

He took a step closer, and you didn’t back up, so he took another step, but you still didn’t move. Now he was inches away, much closer than coworkers should be, closer than enemies should ever get.

His voice dropped before asking, “You scared you might actually like sharing a bed with me, Y/N?”

You scoffed, but your pulse jumped. “I don’t like anything about you.”

“Lie again.”

You opened your mouth, but nothing came out.

He leaned in, breath brushing your cheek, eyes dropping to your lips for half a second too long. “Thought so.”

Your heart hammered, but somehow your pride held firm.

“We’re not sharing,” you blurted.

He smirked. “Aight. Then you can sleep by the fire.”

You blinked. “Excuse me?”

He gestured lazily toward the living room. “You scared of the dark?”

You stepped into his space fully. “You are infuriating.”

He grinned slowly and wickedly, inviting trouble. “And what the fuck does that make you?”

The tension was electric, one spark away from igniting.

The cabin lights flickered twice, then everything went dark. The heater died first, followed by the overheads and then the gentle hum of appliances.

The cabin was filled with silence. The snow pounding against the windows like iron fists was the only audible sound.

You inhaled sharply. “Erik…?”

He cursed under his breath. “Shit. It looks like the storm kicked out the power.”

You crossed your arms, annoyed at mother nature herself. “Of course we are.”

He grabbed your wrist surprisingly gently and guided you toward the living room, where the fireplace still glowed. “Stay close, Mama.”

You snatched your hand back. “I am close.”

“Good,” he muttered. “Try not to wander off and fall into a snowbank.”

You sat on the fur blanket in front of the fire, refusing to look at him. The wind howled outside, the storm raging harder than either of your attitudes.

Erik tossed a few extra logs onto the flames, the fire crackling hotter and brighter, throwing gold across his arms and locs as he worked.

You hated how good he looked illuminated like that. You hated that he knew you noticed.

He dusted off his hands. “This storm’s gonna trap us in here all night.”

“Fantastic.”

“No heater,” he continued, settling across from you. “No lights. No extra blankets. Gonna get cold.”

You eyed the flames. “I’ll manage.”

He huffed a laugh. “Right. Sure.”

You glared. “What’s that supposed to mean? You don’t know me, nigga.”

“Oh, I know your dramatic ass good and plenty.” He ranted. “You think I don’t notice how cold you get at work when the AC drops below seventy-three degrees? But yeah, you muhfuckin Ororo Munroe, so you’ll survive.”

You grabbed a fur throw and pulled it dramatically over your shoulders.

He had the audacity to smirk.

The minutes that passed turned into half an hour. The temperature dropped significantly. The kind of cold that traveled all the way down to your bones. 

You scooted closer to the fire without thinking, and so did Erik. Somehow, without either of you consciously deciding to do so, your knees brushed against each other. You both froze, but neither of you pulled away.

The fire popped loudly, orange sparks dancing upward. Erik’s gaze slid to where your knees touched, then slowly traveled upward to your thighs and your waist, stopping on your face.

His jaw tightened. “You cold?”

“Nope.”

“You lying.”

He reached over, grabbed the end of the fur blanket, and tugged it over himself too. Now you were forced to shift closer or lose the warmth completely.

Your shoulders grazed as your thighs pressed together under the blanket. Your breath caught, unsteady and embarrassingly audible. Erik noticed of course and leaned in slightly, voice low.

“You shake like that every time you sit next to me?”

You swallowed. “Nah. Just when you won’t shut the fuck up.”

His lips twitched like he was suppressing a grin. “That right?”

You glared at him, but your voice softened without permission. “You think you’re irresistible.”

He leaned even closer, the firelight gilding his features, eyes locked on yours with a focus that felt dangerous.

“And you think you don’t stare at me every time I fix something in the office.”

Your face heated. “I don’t stare.”

“You do.” He reached forward and brushed a snowflake from your braid, slowly and deliberately. “You staring right now.”

You tried to look away, but your eyes were glued to his face.

The air thickened. and your breath hitched. Erik Stevens, your workplace nemesis, professional irritant, and human nightmare, shifted closer until your noses brushed.

“Tell me you don’t feel this,” he murmured.

Your pulse pounded as the fire crackled and the wind slammed against the cabin walls.

“Admit that you been wanting a nigga,” he whispered again, kobicha brown eyes dropping briefly to your lips.

You opened your mouth to deny it or to insult him, but the words tangled in your throat, refusing to come out.

He saw your silence and confirmed the truth inside it.

Slowly his hand slid to your waist, careful and testing, like he expected you to shove him away, but you didn’t.

You inhaled sharply, your body betraying you entirely.

Erik’s jaw flexed. “Uh-huh.”

The fire roared in front of you, heat blooming between you in a way that had nothing to do with flames. There was no more room for snarky jabs as you two teetered on the edge of something inevitable.

Erik’s hand stayed on your waist, warm and firm, his thumb sweeping once across the fabric of your shirt, subtly claiming.

You tried to speak, you tried to gather an insult, and you tried to remember why you hated this man, but the words dissolved on your tongue, swallowed by the tension pressing your bodies closer inch by inch.

“You really piss me the fuck off,” you expressed, barely audible.

He let out an alarming chuckle. “I don’t even be doin’ shit,” he insisted, leaning in until his breath brushed your lips. “You just like arguin’ with a nigga.”

You opened your mouth to snap back, but he cut off the protest before it formed by kissing you hard. A crash of heat and impatience and every unspoken thing that had been building for months. Your hand shot to his chest out of instinct to push him away, but your fingers curled into his sweater instead. His other hand slid to the back of your neck, pulling you deeper into the kiss like he’d been waiting far too long and finally lost control.

You gasped against his mouth. “I—Erik…”

He didn’t give you space to recover. “You talk too damn much,” he muttered against your lips.

“You—” You started, but your voice broke when he kissed you again, slower this time, deeper, the kind of kiss that etched its shape into your memory.

You made one single, fatal mistake. You leaned into him the tiniest bit. Just enough for him to feel it. His breath hitched, a low sound you had never heard from him, and then his hands gripped your waist again, this time with purpose.

“C’mere, Mama,” he said, voice a rumble.

Before you could question the command, he tightened the hold on your hips, lifted you like you weighed nothing, and pulled you straight into his lap.

A startled squeak escaped you, but your arms were already looping around his shoulders for balance, your thick thighs bracketing his hips as the fur blanket slipped down around you both.

His palms settled on your curves, firm and sure, anchoring you there. You felt the breath punch out of both of you when you landed against his chest.

“You really shouldn’t be sittin’ here,” he swallowed hard, eyes locked on yours and burning. “Cause I’m not lettin’ you back up.”

Your heart thundered as your forehead brushed his without meaning to.

“You going to push me away?” he asked softly, almost a dare, almost a plea.

You didn’t move or blink, still processing the fact that he just set you on his lap like you belonged there.

He grinned triumphantly and said, “Didn’t think so.” before he captured your lips in a starving kiss, both of you tipping fully into the heat you’d been fighting since the moment you met.

You were still recovering from the shock as he settled you fully onto him, the fire casting gold across both your faces. Erik’s hands gripped the hem of your long-sleeve shirt, and you raised your arms so he could lift it over your head and toss it to the side. He didn’t unfasten your bra, but his thumbs stroked at the soft skin under the latch, slow circles like he didn’t even realize he was doing it. Like touching you was instinct. Like it was his god-given right.

Your forehead brushed his again, softer this time and his breathing slowed like he was trying to steady himself and failing miserably.

“Why you shakin’, Y/N?” he whispered, voice velvety warm. “You scared of me…or what you feel?”

You swallowed, fingers tightening in the fabric of his shirt.

“Neither,” you lied.

“Yeah, you are,” he hummed, leaning in to kiss the corner of your mouth. “I am too.”

That admission and his lips snatched the air right out of your lungs. He kissed you again, much slower, like he was memorizing your lips. His hands at your back guided you closer until your chest met his and your heartbeat thudded right against him.

The storm outside howled and the cabin groaned, but in that moment, all you felt was him.

Erik tilted his head, his mouth tracing a slow path to your jaw, his breath warm against your skin.

“You drive me fuckin’ crazy at work,” he admitted between soft kisses. “All that attitude. All that fire.” His left hand moved to your ass, squeezing the flesh through your leggings. “Couldn’t stand you…because I wanted you.”

Your breath hitched involuntarily as he landed a sharp slap on your ass.

“You want me?” he asked.

You nodded, and that was all the permission he needed. He kissed down your throat slowly and reverently, like you were something he’d been starving for but didn’t dare ruin by moving too fast.

Your fingers dug into his shoulders, bold now, as you pulled him closer as the crackling fire warmed both your bodies. His locs brushed your cheek when he lifted his head to meet your gaze again.

His eyes softened. “Relax, Mama.”

You were already anxious, but you leaned in anyway, pressing into him, letting your full weight settle on his lap. You gasped quietly as your heat brushed against the erection in his pants. He was huge. You rocked down once to be certain, and he inhaled sharply, hands tightening with a low, quiet groan he failed to suppress.

The sound catapulted heat through your entire body, and your clit throbbed in anticipation. He kissed you again, this time with the fierce tenderness of someone who’d been holding back for far too long. No rush. No hurry. Just heat rising slow and inevitable, like the fire dancing behind you.

One of his hands slid up your spine, unsnapping your bra; the other anchored your side. Your fingers curled into his locs, and you sighed as he kissed the top of your left breast. He exhaled your name like it was a confession, pulling back just enough to rest his forehead against yours, breath unsteady, voice raw.

“Tell me to stop.”

Your lips brushed his forehead in a ghost of a kiss. “For once I don’t want you to stop.”

He groaned softly as he took your hardened nipple in his mouth, sucking firmly. You moaned his name as he alternated between each breast, giving equal attention to both.

After a few minutes he pulled back just enough to study you, like he was memorizing every microexpression you made.

You were breathless and flustered, still trying to pretend you weren’t melting in his lap.

“Oh yeah,” he smirked, thumb brushing your bottom lip, “you a problem.”

You tried to glare at him, but it was hard to be convincing when you were straddling him and shaking.

“Get over yourself,” you managed to mutter out.

He let out a sound of amusement, the kind of laugh meant to pin you exactly where you were.

“There she go,” he announced fondly. “My little brat.”

Your pulse jumped as his hand slid down your chest, past your tummy, slow enough to make your breath catch, then stopped in between your thighs, his other hand pushing you down against his hard dick.

“You talk a lot of shit,” he murmured, “but I bet that pussy soakin’ for a nigga.”

You scoffed and shifted like you were going to get off his lap. He didn’t let you. His hands tightened instantly, pulling you back down in one fluid, unquestionable motion.

“Nah,” he whispered, voice dipping. “Stop fuckin’ playin’ with me.”

Your breath stuttered. “Erik—”

“Uh-uh,” he said, leaning in, lips grazing your ear without touching. “That attitude got a limit…and you hittin’ it.”

You shivered, heat skimming the back of your neck and thighs clenching.

His fingers lifted your chin gently but firmly. “Look at me.”

You did because you couldn’t not.

His eyes softened, not so much in a sweet way but in a certain way. The kind of look that pulled the fight right out of you.

“That’s better,” he praised. “Be nice to Daddy.”

You opened your mouth to fire back some petty remark, but he was already moving, his hands gripping your soft sides, his gaze dropping lower and lower.

He glanced at your socks peeking out from under the blanket a moment too long. In one smooth motion he removed a sock, revealing your French-tipped toes, and something in his expression shifted, subtle and hungry, like he hadn’t meant to react but couldn’t hide it either.

You caught it immediately.

“What?” you asked, eyeing him suspiciously.

He huffed a laugh like you’d uncovered state secrets.

“Nothing,” he muttered unconvincingly.

“Oh nah,” you said, narrowing your eyes. “Say it.”

His tongue swept over his bottom lip thoughtfully before he met your gaze again. “You don’t wanna know what I’m thinking.”

That shouldn’t have sent heat down your spine, but it did, so you pressed, “Try me.”

He leaned back just enough to look you over from your eyes…to your mouth…to your perky nipples…then down to your other foot, tugging the sock off.

“Your feet,” he said quietly, “gonna get me in trouble.”

Your breath caught. “I—what?”

He dragged one hand down your thigh, stopping right above your ankle, fingers grazing over your toes.

“I’ve been trying not to look,” he murmured. “At work. Today. Right now.”

You stared at him, stunned.

He continued, “Especially when you get them painted white or lavender. I can’t focus on a damn thing at work when your toes out.”

He smiled, completely unbothered by your shock.

“Thought you were observant,” he teased. “Guess not.”

You pulled your leg back instinctively. He gripped your ankle gently, firm enough to make your breath stutter.

“Don’t hide,” he whispered. “Not from me.”

The last shred of resolve slipped inside you, and you surrendered. He exhaled like he’d been waiting for that exact moment.

“That’s it,” he murmured, his thumb stroking the back of your ankle once, lightly, reverently. “See? You not as tough as you pretend.”

“I am,” you shot back weakly.

He leaned forward, nose brushing yours. “No, you not and that’s why I like you.”

Your heartbeat stuttered into a run when he pushed you down against his straining erection while he lifted his hips to meet your warmth. You whimpered softly as his zipper brushed against your clit. His eyes dropped to your lips again. “You done fightin’ me?”

“Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, Daddy.”

He hummed, pleased, sliding one hand up your spine in a slow, claiming stroke.

“That’s what I like to hear,” he whispered against your mouth.

His next kiss was consuming. The kind of kiss that said we’re way past the point of pretending now. His hand snaked inside the front of your leggings, and his fingers found your clit with ease. His thumb circled your clit through your panties, and your eyes fluttered closed as you gasped his name.

“E—Erik.”

“Mmm,” he groaned. “I barely even touched you, and this pussy already drippin’ for me.”

His free hand tore a hole in your leggings all the way to your ass, ruining them, but before you could complain, he yanked your panties to the side and circled your clit harder with his thumb, while his middle finger traced your slit, your wetness coating his finger as he dipped it inside you.

“Goddamn,” Erik exhaled as he admired your fat pussy. “So wet and soft. Warmer than I imagined.”

“Erik.”

“Why you was hiding all this from me?”

“Erik.”

“Tell me.” He grunted softly as he inserted a second finger without warning, thrusting slowly. “Tight-ass fuckin’ pussy.”

A loud moan escaped you when he curled his fingers deeper and thrust faster, his thumb circling your clit with more pressure.

“Eri—ohfuckohfuck—Erik, please!

Without warning, he pulled his fingers out, grumbling under his breath about not being able to wait any longer, as he unbuckled his jeans and tugged them down just enough with his briefs. His dick came free, hard, long, and heavy. A girth like no other.

Your mouth fell open and your eyes widened in utter amazement. You could feel how huge he was when you put all your weight on his lap, but you had no idea he was packing that much. Was that supposed to go inside you? On what planet and in what timeline?!

“I need to be inside you, Mama,” he groaned softly as he stroked himself. “Can I put it in?”

“Wait—you don’t want no head first or—um…to get more comfortable—“

“I’m the most comfortable I’ll ever be now that I got you in my lap.”

“At least take your sweater off, E.”

He dropped his dick and lifted his sweater over his head and tossed it aside, gold chain shining against his smooth, toned chest. 

You met his gaze steadily, brushing his locs back from his face and shoulders. “I want you inside me.”

For a beat, he just looked at you like he was savoring the shift, the way tenderness tipped into heat. There was no going back to just coworkers after this. He pulled at the hole on your leggings until enough of your ass was free for him to cup, ripping your panties in the process. You didn’t even bother to comment because his brute strength did something to you.

You lowered yourself onto him, both of you inhaled sharply as he eased in carefully, inch by inch. The stretch damn near tilted your world on its axis. Your fingers gripped the back of his neck, your arms bringing him closer to you.

“Fuuuck,” he rasped, warm puffs of breath tickling your neck. “Tighter than—“

“Erik…”

His name flowed from your lips like a prayer, and suddenly it was him who was undone. Heat traveled through him as you began to bounce slowly and steadily, adjusting to his massive size, and the sting from the stretch gradually subsided.

“Shit, don't say Daddy's name like that," he rasped, breathless and on the verge of snapping.

“I can’t help it. You feel too good.”

“Goddamn,” he groaned, trying with all his might to not bust embarrassingly quick. “You feel too good, Y/N. Too fuckin’ good.”

You clutched his shoulders, coffin nails biting lightly into his skin, gasping his name. The sound of his name being moaned like that wrecked him. He thought he would let you lead with your slow bounces at first, but every time his name slipped past your lips, he lost a little more control.

The pace quickened, and you both settled on an intense rhythm as sweat began to slick your chests. Broken breaths syncing with your impeccable rocks.

“What’s my name?” He asked, hands reaching up to cup your face and bring your lips down against his.

You were so full and stretched you forgot how to speak for a moment. Every deliberate stroke and every perfectly timed hip thrust drew a needy moan out of you; every kiss left you wrecked. He wouldn’t let you look away from him, eyes locked like he was pulling the word out of your soul.

“Say it,” he commanded, voice rough.

“Daddy—” you gasped, clutching his shoulders.

“Again.”

“Daddy!”

He groaned as his hips stuttered, his control fraying. “Fuck…that’s it, baby. You mine now, and I’m yours.” Then his voice dropped to a sinful whisper, testing the nickname he just knew would unravel you. “Such a good girl for Daddy.”

You cried out, head thrown back, the praise detonating inside you. Those two words from him tipped you over the edge. You shuddered violently, the orgasm tearing through you so hard it felt like every single nerve in your body was on fire.

“Oh shit—if praise was all it took to get you to open up then I went about this shit all wrong from the beginning.”

You were still whimpering and shaking in his lap, still being stretched to the brim.

“That’s okay though. I’m making up for it all night.”

Once you caught your breath, you started bouncing again, but he had other plans. He planted his feet on the floor and dropped his hands back to your waist, and his grip was almost as tight as you when he began hammering into you, tempo merciless.

“Eri—fuckmefuckme—don’t sto—stop!”

He leaned close, lips brushing your ear as he grunted loudly. “Take it for me, pretty girl.”

It wasn’t just the words, but it was the way he said them. Smooth but commanding, drenched in reverence and filth at the same damn time. Like he was worshiping and owning you with each movement.

Your body reacted instantly, back arching, thighs trembling, breath catching in a sob. You bounced harder, fucking him back and he slapped your ass cheek over and over.

Thwap. Thwap. Thwap. Thwap.

“Mmhmm, just like that,” he encouraged. “Use that dick.”

You moaned, placing your hands on his chest, gripping his pecs as you swirled your hips, picking up an unrelenting speed.

“Erik—” you cried, already close to the edge again.

His smirk was lethal. “Ohhh, I heard that. You like that name too, huh? Say it back.”

“Pretty girl,” you whimpered brokenly, but it wasn’t enough.

“Louder,” he growled, hips pistoning harder. “Let me hear you.”

“Daddy—Erik—fuck—your pretty girl!”

“Mmhmm. I can feel it,” Erik groaned, sliding one hand to your throat and squeezing just enough to make your breath hitch, his other clutching your hip. “Come on this dick again, Mama.”

“I’m gonna—I—fuuuck!”

The tension coiled tighter, and the euphoric hum sparkled under your skin as he fucked you through your second orgasm. The wet squelching and sharp panting filled the room, outdoing the booming gusts of wind from the storm. It felt too good.

You still couldn’t believe your most annoying coworker was giving you so much pleasure. He was literally fucking the breath right out of your lungs. You were loving every filthy minute of it. If your boss wanted to send you two on more team-building quests, then sign you the fuck up.

You bit your bottom lip as you caught his reaction to you squeezing your walls around his tip as you bounced up and unclenching when you came down.

Erik bit down on your shoulder, voice wrecked. “Fuck, Mama—I can’t hold it—” he huffed, rutting up into you sloppily.

You seized the opportunity by whispering the knockout blow right into his ear. “Come for me, Daddy. Paint my fuckin’ walls.”

His whole body shuddered, and the groan that ripped out of him was primal, his release hitting so hard it dragged you over right with him. You both came together, gripping each other like your lives depended on it and panting harshly like you just ran a 20k marathon under ninety minutes.

His mouth found yours in a feral kiss, all tongue and teeth and desperation, swallowing your moans until you were both gasping for air.

After a few minutes you finally eased off him, your slicked thighs trembling as much as his as you swung a wobbly leg over him and fell back against the blanket. His spent dick twitched weakly against his thigh, still leaking as it softened.

“Wake me up in about twenty minutes, please.” You muttered as you closed your eyes, breath regulating. Not a care in the world as he watched his come ooze out of you onto the blanket. His amused snort was the last thing you heard before you drifted off.

—

Warmth was the first thing you registered when you woke up. The heavy kind that came after exhaustion and too much pleasure to process. Your limbs ached in all the right places, and your spine felt like it had melted into the mattress.

Wait—a mattress?

Your eyes snapped open. You were splayed out against the sheets, a thick duvet pulled up to your chin, and your clothes were folded neatly on the wooden rocking chair. The faint scent of freshly brewed coffee and cedar lingered in the air.

You sat up abruptly, wincing with bittersweet regret because, wow, your body remembered the ride you went on last night.

“The fu—?”

You hadn’t fallen asleep in the bed. You’d fallen asleep on the floor. On top of the fur blanket. Completely wrecked and telling him to wake you in twenty minutes.

You pressed a hand to your forehead. “Oh my God…”

A deep voice drifted from the doorway. “Rise and shine, brat.”

You jumped a little, head snapping toward him. Erik leaned against the frame, arms crossed, long locs falling over one shoulder, only wearing sweatpants and that smug, devastating smirk that said he knew exactly what he did last night.

You blinked at him, then at the bed, then at your clean skin. “…Did you—”

“Yeah,” he answered before you finished. “I carried you to the bed and tucked you in.”

Your cheeks warmed, and words caught in your throat.

“You were out, Mama,” he continued, walking in casually with two mugs like the room didn’t still smell faintly of heat and him. “Like out out. Couldn’t just leave yo ass on the floor.”

You blinked. “And you—”

“Cleaned you up,” he said simply. “You were a mess. My mess.”

Your soul left your body.

He shrugged, like he hadn’t just said something illegal. “I take care of what I break.”

“ERIK—”

“What?” he asked, amused. “You mad I didn’t leave you sticky on a blanket like some savage?”

You buried your face in your hands as he chuckled, setting the mugs down on the bedside table before he sat on the edge of the bed beside you.

“Relax, Mama,” he said softly. “You were asleep before you even hit the blanket. I wasn’t about to let you freeze.”

You peeked at him through your fingers. “Why didn’t you wake me?”

“You really think twenty minutes was enough time for you to recover from all that?” He gestured vaguely toward you. “You slept like you got knocked out by a heavyweight champ.”

You threw a pillow, and it hit him square in the chest.

He caught it with one hand, smirk deepening. “There she go,” he teased. “My pretty girl.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Why not? You liked it last night.”

You couldn’t even come up with a quick rebuttal.

He leaned closer, voice dipping, brown eyes warm in a way that made your stomach flip and thighs clench.

“And for the record,” he murmured, “you looked good sleeping in my arms. We will be falling asleep like that more often.”

Oop, he wasn’t fucking around.

He reached up, brushing a stray braid from your cheek with a gentleness that contrasted wildly with the way he’d handled you last night.

“You hungry?” he asked, like the question didn’t carry a thousand implications. “Power came on about half an hour ago. I can make you a omelette. You look like you need sustenance.”

You nodded and whispered. “What about you?”

He smiled confidently, eyes sparkling with mischief. “Oh, I been waitin’ on you to wake up so I can have my meal.”

“Why you had to wait on me—“

You threw another pillow at him when it clicked what his freaky ass wanted to actually eat for breakfast.

He laughed, ducking it, then stood and headed toward the kitchen.

Erik smacked your ass while his other hand had your long braids around his fist, yanking you back harder into his thrusts. “That pussy just keep gettin’ wetter and wetter for a nigga.” He grunted, the grip on your hips unrelenting.

Sex with Erik had always been intense. You two had been in a relationship for three and a half years now, and you still couldn’t get used to it. It’s like the sex got better each time. Now the sex felt different. Even more intense now that he had something to prove.

The hand gripping your waist snaked under you, and his fingers began to rub your clit. You whined loudly, arching your back as you begged between screams in the pillow. 

“Ahh shit! No, I can’t cum again!” You pulled away from him, causing his dick to slip out of you with a wet squelch, and crawled up the bed. 

He chuckled softly as he watched you scurry up the bed. “Oh, don’t run now, Y/N. You was talkin’ all that shit about a nigga’s stamina, and now you runnin’ from me?”

Erik grabbed your legs and flipped you onto your back, slotting himself between your shaking thighs. His brown eyes were filled with so much lust, he almost looked intoxicated while he stroked himself a few times, rubbing his swollen tip against your sensitive clit.

“Mmm…” you whimpered softly, fingers reaching out to rest on his lower abdomen. You tried to close your legs, but his grip on your thigh was like a vice. He pushed back inside you with ease, stroking you slowly and deliberately as he watched your wet walls stretch around his girthy dick. 

You looked up at him, eyes shining and jaw slack. He grunted softly as he rocked into you harder. “This my pussy?”

You nodded, sinking your teeth into your bottom lip to fight back a shout. 

“Use your words, Y/N.” 

“Yesss,” you choked on a sob, vision blurry now. “This is your pussy, Erik.” 

“That’s what the fuck I thought.” He growled, pounding your walls at a pace so relentless the headboard smacked against the wall over and over.

Your entire body tingled as he brushed your g-spot over and over. Your head thrashed against the pillows as you felt yet another orgasm approaching. You could barely form a sentence coherent enough to warn him. He already knew by the way you clenched around him.

He inhaled sharply and then groaned loudly as he finally felt his own orgasm approaching. “Cum with me, baby.”

Erik came deep inside you, so deep that another orgasm ripped through you. The shocked scream that escaped your throat was hoarse and barely audible. Your thighs shook as tears rolled down your cheeks. His arm was between your bodies as he rubbed your clit and kissed your tear-stained cheeks. “Just breathe, baby. That’s all you gotta do.”

Every syllable felt like another pull, another layer of control and care. It wasn’t pain, it wasn’t punishment; it was too much in the way lightning is too much: bright, alive, and impossible to look away from.

When it finally eased, silence filled the room except for the rain. Your ears could barely hear the Jamie Foxx recording softly bumping from the living room speaker. Erik pressed his forehead to yours, breath unsteady but satisfied. “You still with me, baby?”

You giggled, shaky but sure. “Barely.”

He smiled, the kind that always made you feel safe right after he’d made you tremble. “You look so fuckin’ pretty when you’re loosin’ it on my dick.”

You took a much-needed breath before you spoke. “You plottin’ on my demise, nigga?”

He chuckled loudly, pressing a quick kiss to your lips. “Nah, but I bet yo ass won’t crack another joke about my stamina now, will you?”