Country club

But not just any picture. That picture. The one you had sent only to Rafe—the one meant just for him. You were wearing a delicate pink lace bra, his favorite, with matching panties. Your heart started to pound, your hands suddenly clammy against the keyboard.

And then, you saw Topper’s response.

“Damn, man.”

Your stomach dropped. A sickening wave of confusion and embarrassment crashed over you. Why would Rafe show him that?

Before you could process it, the bathroom door creaked open.

Rafe stepped out, a towel slung dangerously low around his hips, droplets of water still clinging to his skin. He ran a hand through his wet hair, his blue eyes locking onto you.

“You on my laptop?” His voice was casual, but there was something underneath it—something unreadable.

You panicked, quickly clicking away from the chat. “Yeah, just looking for a movie for us to watch,” you said, hoping your voice sounded steady.

He studied you for a second, then relaxed. “Find anything?”

You forced a small smile, shaking your head, but inside, a storm raged. You couldn’t let him know what you had seen. It was just one picture, you told yourself—maybe a mistake. Starting a fight wasn’t worth it.

The rest of the evening passed in a blur. You spent the night with Rafe in his mansion, you didn’t even finish the movie—Rafe had been too needy, as always, pulling you into him, touching you like he couldn’t get enough.

But later, as you lay beside him in the dark, your body warm against his, sleep refused to come.

No matter how hard you tried to push it away, one thought kept circling in your mind.

The picture.

The Top’s respond.

The sinking feeling in your chest that something wasn’t right.

Your eyes remained open, staring at the darkened room while Rafe’s chest rose and fell steadily against your back. His arm was draped over your waist, his warmth surrounding you like a cage. He was deep asleep, breathing slow and steady, his body curled around yours.

Then, your gaze landed on his phone, sitting on the nightstand just within reach.

It was right there.

All you had to do was lean forward, just a little, and you could take it. Just a quick check—to see if the guys had said anything else about you. The thought gnawed at you, whispering in the back of your mind.

You didn’t want to do it. It wasn’t fair to Rafe. Checking his phone without permission—it was practically spying. But the urge was stronger than your conscience.

Slowly, carefully, you shifted, holding your breath as you reached for the device. Your fingers wrapped around it, heart hammering as you brought it back to you. You glanced at Rafe—he didn’t stir.

You unlocked it with ease.

Your stomach tightened as you scrolled to his messages with Topper. And then you saw it.

A link. Topper had sent him something.

Your pulse quickened as your thumb hovered over the message. You hesitated for only a second before tapping the link.

The page loaded. A porn page.

You saw a girl on the video, she was completely naked, struggling, three men surrounding her. Holding her down. Hands gripping her wrists and ankles, pressing against her skin, overpowering her with ease.

One of the man forcing her legs apart, teasing her entrance, while the other was using her mouth. Your fingers tightened around the phone, your pulse roaring in your ears. A sickening weight settled in your chest as dread curled around your ribs.

Why was Rafe watching something like this?

You quickly closed the video, not wanting to watch any longer. You knew Rafe had watched those kinds of videos before. He was a man, after all. It wasn’t something you ever thought too deeply about. Guys watched porn—it was normal.

But this?

This wasn’t normal. This wasn’t some grainy video of a consenting couple. It was violent. It was animalistic.

You scrolled through the conversation further, your stomach turning with every new message. The more you saw, the heavier the weight in your chest became. Links. More videos—sickening videos, but you couldn’t bring yourself to click on them anymore. The horror from the first one was enough.

But it wasn’t just the videos. The pictures. Your pictures.

Each one was more intimate, more revealing than the last, as though they were part of some collection. Some twisted game. You saw yourself in various states of undress, shots you had sent to Rafe—only to Rafe—intended for his eyes alone. But now, Topper had them too. His replies made your blood run cold.

“Damn, man, she looks like she’s begging for it.”

“Did you get it wet?”

“You sure she knows how to keep it quiet?”

“How much did you make her beg for it?”

“I bet she was dripping by the time you got to her.”

“You’re a lucky bastard. She’s hot as hell.”

“Can’t believe you’ve got her this whipped. She’s all yours, huh?”

You knew Topper. He was always around—Rafe’s best friend. You had hung out with him countless times, never once suspecting that he saw you this way. It made your stomach twist with disgust.

You couldn’t look at the screen anymore. The messages, the words—each one felt like it was digging deeper under your skin. You slammed the phone down into the drawer, trying to push it all out of your mind. But before you could gather yourself, a voice cut through the silence behind you.

“It’s rude to go through someone’s phone without their permission, baby.”

Rafe’s voice was low, but there was no anger, no fury. Just a calm, unsettling tone.

“I wasn’t—”

You started, spinning around to face him, but your eyes dropped immediately, unable to hold his gaze. The tension in the air thickened, and your heart pounded faster with each passing second.

Rafe’s fingers gently lifted your chin, forcing you to look up at him. His gaze was intense, searching your face, like he could read every thought racing through your mind.

“And it’s rude to lie,” he scolded you, his tone sharp, almost patronizing—like you were a child.

“I know, I was just… Why did you send those photos to Topper?” The question slipped out before you could stop it, the confusion and hurt laced in your voice.

Rafe’s expression didn’t change. He seemed unfazed, as though the answer should have been obvious.

“Well, he’s my best friend,” he said, shrugging as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

“Yeah, but he doesn’t send you photos of his girlfriend,” you shot back, the words slipping out before you could stop them. The hurt was too raw, the betrayal too fresh.

Rafe’s smirk grew wider, his gaze never leaving yours. “Are you dumb, baby? She’s kind of my sister,” he said, his tone dripping with mockery.

The weight of his words hit you, and you immediately realized how foolish the question must have sounded. But it didn’t make it any less painful. You felt small, humiliated, as if your feelings didn’t even matter.

“Listen,” Rafe continued, his voice suddenly softer, almost condescending, “you shouldn’t overthink it. Just take it as a compliment.

He looked at you intensely, his gaze unwavering, as if trying to read every thought running through your mind. You felt a mixture of hurt and confusion swirling inside you, but somehow, his presence still had a calming effect on you. Maybe it was the way he always seemed to pull you back in, even when you were falling apart.

“Come on, let’s go back to sleep, hmm?” he said gently, his voice softer now, almost coaxing. “You’re probably very tired.”

You hesitated for a moment, the weight of everything still hanging between you. But something in his eyes, the familiar warmth of his touch, made you want to let go of the tension that had built up. You had trusted him for so long, and despite everything, a part of you still wanted to believe in him.

You let out a shaky breath, then allowed yourself to sink into his embrace as he cuddled you close. His arms wrapped around you, holding you as if nothing had changed. You could feel the rise and fall of his chest, the slow rhythm of his breathing.

You closed your eyes, the weight of exhaustion settling over you. You tried to push aside the doubts that still clung to you, letting yourself fall into the comfort of his embrace.

──────────────────────

Days went by, and neither of you brought that up again. You thought, maybe, Rafe was right—that you were just overreacting. Maybe you were being too sensitive. It was hard to hold onto anger when he wrapped you in his warmth, acting like nothing had changed.

You were still furious with Topper, though. He wasn’t your boyfriend. He had no right to talk about you the way he did, to treat you like some object for his amusement. And that left you with a gnawing feeling in your gut every time his name was mentioned.

When Rafe asked you to meet with Topper today, you hesitated. You didn’t want to face him, not after everything that had happened. But Rafe insisted, his usual charm making it hard to say no.

You didn’t want to, but you didn’t want to disappoint him either. So, you agreed, though the unease in your stomach never quite faded. You tried to push it aside as you got ready, but in the back of your mind, you couldn’t shake the feeling that meeting with Topper today wouldn’t be as simple as Rafe made it seem.

The atmosphere in the house felt heavy as the three of you sat together. You deliberately chose not to speak to Topper, your gaze avoiding his at all costs. When you first walked in, you muttered a quick “hi,” barely glancing at him, and then quickly turned your attention elsewhere. You didn’t want to look at him, didn’t want to acknowledge his presence in the same space.

Topper, however, didn’t seem to notice—or maybe he was just pretending not to—his attention mostly focused on Rafe. The two of them fell into their usual banter, laughing and joking about whatever the topic of the moment was, while you stayed silent, your eyes glued to the floor or the walls, anything but him.

You were sitting on the couch, watching the two of them play, the sounds of the game filling the quiet space. Topper, as usual, was being his playful self, glancing over at you with a mischievous grin.

“Do you want to play too?” he asked, holding out the console in your direction.

You looked at him, then at the console, your gaze lingering for a moment. You could feel the tension building again, the frustration bubbling just under the surface. The idea of playing a game with Topper, after everything, didn’t sit well with you.

“No,” you said, your voice cold, as you turned your gaze back to the screen. You ignored his outstretched hand, not even bothering to look at him. “Not with you.”

You muttered the last part quietly, but it was loud enough for both of them to hear. The air in the room grew still, and you could feel the weight of the moment hanging over you. Topper’s grin faltered, and Rafe, who had been focused on the game, immediately paused, his expression hardening.

“Okay, that’s enough,” Rafe said, standing up suddenly. The tone in his voice was firm, like he was trying to manage the situation. “Give us a moment,” he added, looking at Topper.

Before you could say anything, Rafe was already pulling you off the couch, gently but firmly dragging you to the other room. He closed the door behind him, locking it with a soft click.

He turned to face you, his eyes narrowing as he took in your expression. “You’re really bratty today,” he said, his voice a mix of amusement and mild irritation.

He grabbed your chin, tilting your head to the side as his lips brushed against your neck. The slow kisses followed by gentle bites made you shiver, your heart pounding in your chest. It was both frustrating and intoxicating at the same time.

“Will you behave now?” he asked, his voice low, almost dangerous. He pulled back slightly, his eyes locking with yours. There was something commanding in his gaze, something that made your stomach tighten.

“Or should I teach you a lesson?” he added, his hand slipping beneath your t-shirt, his touch deliberate, slow, and almost teasing.

His free hand trailed down to your leg, squeezing it slightly. “Hmm? Maybe I could fuck that attitude out of you,” he murmured as his fingers brushed against your soaked panties.

At the sensation of his touch, you slowly shook your head, your apology emerging as a barely audible whisper.

“Oh, you’re sorry, huh?” he scoffed. “You act like a bitch to my bro, and now you wanna say sorry?” He tsked, shaking his head. “We’ll need more than that.” He said, his voice low, as he unbuckled his belt, his pants falling with a soft rustle.

You knew he was pissed at you just by the look on his face, and you knew he had some unsettling ideas when he was in this mood. The tension in the air made it clear that things could spiral in any direction.

He pulled your underwear to the side as you mumbled nonsense, fear creeping into your voice.

“Maybe I should take you like that girl in the video,” he said mockingly. “Should I ask Topper for help?”

You were shaking, repeating “no,” panic clear in your eyes. Rafe only laughed at that.

He pulled his already stiff cock, the sight made you gasp. When he began to tease your entrance, his eyes never left yours, the intensity of his gaze making your heart race. You could feel the fear rising within you, every muscle in your body tensed, unsure of what would come next.

“Chill,” he said, smirking. “If not, it’s gonna hurt worse.” Without giving you a moment to relax, he shoved his full length inside you, making you moan, the force taking you by surprise.

You were used to his roughness, but today felt different—like he had completely lost control. He was angry, and it was clear in every thrust he made.

“Should I take a picture now, huh? And send it to Topp. It’s his bathroom, after all,” he said with a wicked grin. The sensation was too much, and you couldn’t form a response, your mind blank as everything around you blurred. You were crying by now, tears staining your whole face.

“Whatever.” You muttered before hanging up, frustration burning in your chest. Was it really that hard for him to make time for you? You weren’t asking for much.

Shaking it off, you decided to grab breakfast by yourself.

You were at The Wreck when you spotted Sarah sitting with her group of questionable friends. Not that Rafe was any less dubious himself.

He was always warning you about Pogues, telling you to stay away from them. But right now, you were so mad at him that you decided to do the exact opposite.

So, when Sarah came up to you and asked if you wanted to join them, you agreed. It was kind of awkward at first, especially since you’d never really hung out with her friend group before. But after some time, you started to actually enjoy it. The conversation flowed easier, and you found yourself laughing at things you wouldn’t normally find funny. It felt… different, but in a good way.

“So, we were thinking about hitting the beach later. Are you joining us?” Pope asked, and you thought it was really sweet of him to include you.

“Oh, I mean, you probably have plans with your boyfriend or something,” he added quickly, looking a little embarrassed by his question.

You smiled, trying to ease his discomfort. “No, I don’t have anything to do today, so if that’s not a problem, I’d love to join you guys.”

That day you came home later than you thought you would—it was already pretty dark outside. You were having so much fun with Sarah, John B, Kiara, JJ, and Pope, especially Pope, that you had completely lost track of time.

Young Heyward was so sweet and open-minded, and even though your boyfriend was such an asshole to him, he still got along with you effortlessly. You appreciated that more than you could say.

As you walked inside, your phone buzzed. It was a text from Pope: “Hope you made it home safely.” You smiled, feeling a warmth you hadn’t expected.

──────────────────────

The next morning, Rafe texted you.

“Be there in 10.”

No good morning, no want to hang out? It rubbed you the wrong way. Whenever you wanted to make plans, he was always too busy. But when he decided to see you, you had to drop everything. It felt… one-sided.

Still, you pushed the thought away and got ready. Not long after, you heard the sound of Rafe’s truck pulling into the driveway, followed by your mother opening the door for him.

Your parents adored Rafe. To them, he was the perfect match—good-looking, rich, and charismatic. The kind of guy any girl on the island would be lucky to have.

You sat in Rafe’s car, the engine humming softly beneath you. He hadn’t said much— his eyes stayed fixed on the road, only flicking toward you for the briefest second before looking ahead again.

“So… where are we going?” you finally asked, breaking the silence.

“My place,” he said, not even sparing you a glance.

The second you stepped into his room, Rafe was on you—no hesitation, no words. His hands were rough, stripping you down like he’d been waiting for this all night.

And for a moment, you let yourself believe that this—this—meant something. That maybe he missed you. Maybe he still cared.

──────────────────────

"Fuck, you're so perfect," he groaned, his body still trembling against yours as he collapsed on top of you.

The room was filled with the sound of heavy breathing, the scent of sweat and sex clinging to the air as you both came down from the high of it all.

Then, he started kissing you again, leaving small, lingering marks on your neck, each touch deliberate and slow, sending a shiver down your spine.

“I have to go, though,” he said as he get up from bed, already reaching for his clothes, slipping on his pants like he hadn’t just had you in every possible position.

You sat up, the warmth of his body still lingering against your skin. “Already?” You didn’t even try to hide the disappointment in your voice.

“Yeah. Topper and Kelce will be here soon.”

Your stomach twisted. Of course. He couldn’t even spend one full day with you without them showing up.

“They’re coming too?” you asked, unable to keep the distaste from your tone.

Rafe smirked. “Come on, no need to be jealous. It’s not like I’m fucking them too or something.”

Oh yeah. That definitely made you feel better.

You exhaled sharply, pressing your lips together before muttering, “I thought it’d be just us this time.”

Rafe’s eyes darkened at your tone. “Oh, fuck. Are you seriously about to throw a tantrum because I want to spend time with my friends?”

“No. But when you guys hang out, all you do is scream at the TV, drink beer, and talk shit about people. That’s not exactly my idea of fun.”

He scoffed. “It’s not like you can’t invite your friends over too.”

You shot him a pointed look. “Yeah, except I can’t—because you don’t like them. And whenever they are around, you’re mean to them.”

“Not my fault you pick the wrong friends,” he said with a shrug, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Anger bubbled up in your chest before you could stop it. “Maybe I picked the wrong boyfriend.” The words slipped out, barely a whisper—more for yourself than him.

But Rafe did hear.

In an instant, he was in front of you, gripping your jaw, forcing your gaze to his. His face was too close, his breath hot against your skin. His blue eyes burned into yours, dark with something unreadable.

“What was that?” His voice was low, dangerous.

“Nothing,” you muttered quickly, suddenly regretting every single word.

Rafe’s grip didn’t loosen. “No, say that shit again,” he challenged.

But before you could respond, the doorbell rang. His head snapped toward the sound, jaw clenched. Without another word, he let go and stalked out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

So, you spent the rest of the day with Rafe and his friends. It was just as boring as you’d expected—nothing but drinking, shouting over the TV and mindless video games, and talking trash about Pogues, but you endured it. Like always. You had nothing else to do anyway, and you were just so desperate to be with your boyfriend, even if it meant settling for something that didn’t feel right.

”Rafe, can you drive me home?” you asked after realizing it was getting late.

“Can’t you stay the night?” he countered, a smirk tugging at his lips—the one you knew all too well. Before you could respond, he leaned in, pressing a slow kiss to your neck before burying his face there.

“I can’t, I need to—” You barely got the words out before he lifted his head, his eyes locking onto yours, almost pleading.

“Pretty please, hmm? We could go to the movies tomorrow. I heard they’re playing one of those trash romance films you like so much,” he teased, trying to sway you.

“They’re not trash, Rafe,” you mumbled, heat rising to your cheeks.

“Of course.” His grin widened. “So, do we have a deal?”

And that’s how you ended up spending the night at the Cameron estate.

──────────────────────

You were beyond happy that Rafe had actually taken you out on a date, so you made sure to dress up nicely. Luckily, you kept some of your clothes in his closet, and after a little searching, you picked out a pretty blue dress—one you knew he’d like.

At the outdoor cinema, the two of you sat side by side in fold-out chairs, the massive screen glowing in front of you. The night air was warm, the low hum of the movie filling the space around you. Popcorn and soda in your lap, Rafe finishing off a beer. It had been about twenty minutes into the film, and you were really enjoying it so far.

Rafe, on the other hand, clearly wasn’t.

You could feel his eyes on you more than the screen, stealing glances instead of paying attention. And then, his hand found your thigh. It was nothing unusual—he did that often—but as the minutes passed, his fingers slowly started to creep higher.

“Rafe,” you warned softly.

He only hummed in response, pretending not to hear the hint of caution in your voice. Instead of stopping, his hand slid up even further.

“Just relax,” Rafe murmured, his voice low and commanding as his fingers grazed over the thin fabric of your underwear.

When he pulled your panties to the side, a rush of fear hit you—there were people around, and you couldn’t shake the worry of being seen. But despite the anxiety, a soft, involuntary sound escaped you—a mix between a sigh and a whimper. Rafe’s eyes stayed fixed on you, sharp and analytical, drinking in every reaction.

His thumb drifted upward, tracing slow, deliberate circles over your clit, his touch both torturous and addicting. His eyes darken as he watched you tremble beneath him. “Just like that” he whispered and without warning, he slipped two fingers inside, stretching you open—your breath caught, your body arching as you surrendered to his touch.

You were still a little sore from last night, a lingering ache that blended with the slow, building pleasure. Rafe was gentle, his touch careful yet deliberate, each movement sending a wave of warmth through you. You could feel your body responding to him, a building tension deep inside, and before long, you came on his fingers, a rush of pleasure flooding you.

“Good girl,” Rafe murmured, his voice low and filled with obvious satisfaction as he watched you, the praise made you shiver.

──────────────────────

After that, Rafe let you watch the movie in peace, mostly staying on his phone. You smiled to yourself, enjoying one of the movie’s scenes—it was so cute and romantic. Then, suddenly, you heard that familiar voice. “Hi, man” It was Topper. Fucking Topper. What was he doing here?

“What’s up, bro?” your boyfriend responded.

“Come on, baby,” Rafe said softly, gesturing for you to move onto his lap so Topper could take your seat. At this point, you were so frustrated you didn’t even care. You made room for Topper, just wanting to finish the movie. But, of course, now they were talking, disturbing your focus.

You needed a break from all this, so you stood up, telling them you were going to grab some soda.

You picked up your snack from the concession stand and were heading back when you heard a voice behind you. “Hi.” It was JJ, waving at you, with Pope standing beside him.

“Oh, hey! Are you guys enjoying the movie?” you asked, trying to keep it light.

Pope froze for a second, clearly caught off guard by your attention. He hesitated, his eyes darting between you and JJ, clearly uncomfortable. JJ, sensing the awkwardness, quickly chimed in, “Yeah, the film’s great, right Pope?”

The boy cleared his throat, his voice quieter than usual. “Uh, yeah… yeah, it’s really great,” he stammered, unable to hide the nervousness in his tone. His gaze lingered on you for just a moment before he quickly looked away, his face flushing slightly.

You wanted to talk to them a little more, but you knew you couldn’t keep Rafe waiting. He’d get suspicious, like he always did. So, with a quick smile, you said, “Alright, gotta go, see you guys later,” turning on your heels to walk away. But as you took a step, you suddenly froze. Rafe’s gaze was locked on you, his eyes burning with fury and jealousy. The intensity of his stare made your heart race, and you could feel the weight of his anger without even needing to say a word.

“Rafe,” you started, trying to calm him down, hoping he’d understand it was just a casual conversation about the film, nothing serious. But Rafe didn’t have it. Without warning, he stormed over to the Pogues, Topper right behind him.

“Come on, man, we were just talking,” JJ tried to reason with him, his voice tense. But it was no use. Rafe’s temper was already boiling over. He swung, landing a punch straight to JJ’s face.

JJ hit the ground hard, dazed, and Rafe stood over him, seething. “My girl won’t be talking to some fucking Pogues,” he spat, the words sharp and full of contempt. The spit hit the ground beside JJ.

Pope, fuming with anger, couldn’t hold back anymore. “You’re a fucking psycho!” he shouted at Rafe, his voice shaking with fury. But before he could say another word, Topper stepped in. Grabbing Pope by the shirt, he slammed his fist into his stomach repeatedly, each hit harder than the last. Pope gasped, his breath knocked out of him, struggling to stay on his feet as Topper’s blows landed with brutal force.

The crowd had gathered around, forming a tight circle, all eagerly watching the chaos unfold. They were shouting, urging the fight on with loud cheers and taunts.

JJ had managed to get back on his feet, fists raised, and the fight between him and Rafe ignited again. You couldn’t stand it anymore.

“Stop! Please, just stop!” you begged, rushing between them, your voice trembling. You grabbed Rafe’s arm, trying to pull him back, but he was still seething. JJ was breathing heavily, his face bruised from the last punch, but he wasn’t backing down either.

“You look at her again, I’ll fucking break your skull open!” Rafe shouted, his voice filled with raw fury.

You turned just in time to see Topper’s hands wrapped around Pope’s throat, choking him. Pope’s face was turning red, his eyes wide in panic as he struggled to breathe, unable to draw in enough air. The sight sent a wave of panic through you, but the violence was escalating so quickly, you didn’t know how to stop it.

The sudden wail of police sirens cut through the chaos, and in an instant, the crowd started scattering, running in all directions to avoid getting caught. Topper finally released his grip on Pope, letting him collapse to the ground, gasping for air. He quickly turned to Rafe, his eyes wide with urgency.

“Come on, the cops are here!” Topper shouted, pulling at Rafe’s arm. But Rafe, still seething with rage, shoved JJ one last time, sending him stumbling back.

“You’re lucky, bitch,” Rafe spat, his voice low and full of venom. His eyes remained locked on JJ for a moment, as if daring him to do something. But as the sirens grew louder, Rafe finally turned. His gaze shifted to you, and without warning, he grabbed your wrist, his grip tight and almost painful.

“You’re not so much,” he muttered, his voice dripping with frustration and possessiveness as he began to drag you through the crowd. You stumbled to keep up with him, the chaotic scene still unfolding behind you, but Rafe wasn’t paying attention to anything else.

And you? You were furious about what he meant by that.

──────────────────────

He dragged you all the way down to his truck. You didn’t see a soul around—he had parked in an empty, desolate spot. The sky had started to turn a deep navy blue as dusk settled in. Without warning, he slammed you onto the car, pinning you against its metal surface.

“I leave you for one second, and you go running to the Pogues?” he shouted, his voice seething with fury. His hair was messy from the fight, blood staining his chin and soaking through his shirt, his appearance wild and chaotic.

“I was just saying hi.” you said, barely able to get the words out

“For what? You want to fuck him? Or maybe you already did, huh? Did you fuck JJ?” he hissed, his voice full of venom. He was breathing heavily, his chest rising and falling with each labored breath. You shook your head, but it only seemed to make Rafe angrier. “How about Pope, hmm? He was blushing like a bitch” he sneered. Then, with a swift motion, he punched his car with a fist, so close to your head that you flinched, fear coursing through you. For the first time in your life, you were so terrified that you truly thought he was going to kill you.

Rafe’s eyes locked onto yours, intense and burning with fury as he snarled, “Maybe you fucked them both?” He grabbed your throat, and you could feel his bloodied knuckles pressing against your skin. His face inches from yours, his breath hot and heavy, noses nearly touching. “Were you a good cumdumpster to them?” he hissed, and the words made you want to vomit.

Tears blurred your eyes and stained your face as Rafe roughly turned you around, his chest pressing hard against your back, his breath hot and heavy against your skin. One of his hands was still on your shoulder, gripping it tightly, while the other moved toward his pants. You heard the sound of him unbuckling his belt, and it made you whimper, a wave of terror washing over you.

“Yeah, it looks good,” you quietly responded. You didn’t look up to meet his gaze. Instead, you played with the fabric of the dress with your trembling fingers until you felt his hand on yours. His other hand gently grabbed your chin, and that’s when you finally met those intense blue eyes.

“You don’t like it or something?” he asked.

“No, I love it, Rafe. I’m just a little nervous, you know?” you said. You didn’t want to sound ungrateful, even though you hated the dress. You hated every dress Rafe had bought for you, every flower, every necklace, every perfume.

It wasn’t that those presents were unappealing to you—no, they were probably the most expensive and luxurious things you owned. But it all felt like an illusion. The gifts were meant to show others that your relationship with Rafe was perfect, that he cared about you and spoiled you. But they didn’t know the dark truth behind every gift.

“You’re nervous, huh?” he repeated your words, his smirk widening. “Don’t worry, princess. I have an idea to soothe your mind.” His fingers traced along your jaw, and when he saw your scared wide eyes, his smile only grew. He placed a small kiss on your lips and pulled back slightly to look at you again.

“Hmm, what would you say?” he asked in low tone, his hand beginning to wander along your body, dangerously close to your core.

“Rafe, the wedding starts in, like, 20 minutes. I think we should go to the car...” you tried to stop him, but it was Cameron’s firstborn son, so of course he insisted.

“Come on, we have plenty of time.” He murmured, his lips pressing against yours in a hungry kiss. Without waiting for a response he firmly pushed you onto his bed.

“Besides you look really really good in this dress babe”

──────────────────────

You ended up enjoying yourself at the wedding more than you expected. The music and food were great. You thought Rafe would be glued to you the whole time, always keeping an eye on you like most of the parties you attend to. But it turned out that Ward wanted to introduce him to some businessmen (his father always found a way to network and make connections, even at a wedding)

While your boyfriend was busy talking to them, you had some time to chat with Sarah. Even though she was Rafe’s sister, you hadn’t talked much before. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to—Rafe just never really let you. He didn’t like sharing you, especially with her, since he thought she was a spoiled, dumb bitch, as he has said many times.

"Hey, I’m not sure if it’s okay for me to ask, but Rafe said you’re hanging out with John B now?" Well, he didn’t say it exactly like that. It was more like, "Did you know Sarah is sucking off some fucking Pogue?" But there’s no way you are repeating that word for word.

“Oh yes, we’re kind of together. I mean, he didn’t ask me yet, but we spend a lot of time together, and I really like him,” she replied, and you could see the love in her eyes when she talked about John B. “I don’t want you to think I don’t like Topper or something. We just weren’t meant to be, I guess.”

Of course, she felt the need to explain herself—you were Topper’s friend, after all. Well, kind of. He was one of the two guys Rafe let you hang out with, the other being Kelce. But Rafe didn’t like it when you spent too much time talking to his guy friends. He’d cut you off mid-sentence and “joke” that they were trying to steal his girl, but you could always recognize the serious tone, knowing he meant it.

“But what about you? How are you even managing to stay with my brother for so long? I mean, no offense, but he’s kind of an asshole.”

Sarah knew Rafe was far from the perfect image he tried to portray, but she had no idea just how bad he could actually be.

You just awkwardly chuckled. “Yeah, well, he’s really—”

Rafe suddenly joined the table, his gaze flickering between you and Sarah. “I see that you enjoy talking with my sister,” he said, his voice laced with irritation. “More than with me, huh?”

Sarah, unfazed, responded, “We were actually talking about you.”

Rafe’s expression tightened, a sharp edge creeping into his tone. “Really?” he said, his smile thin and forced. “How interesting. What exactly do you have to say about me?”

You shifted uncomfortably, feeling the weight of his gaze. It was clear he wasn’t just curious—there was something more beneath his words, a flicker of frustration that you couldn’t ignore.

“I was just trying to say how good and loving you are” you said quickly, trying to ease the tension that hung thick between you both.

Rafe hesitated, his gaze lingering on you, intense and unreadable. For a moment, you were scared he wouldn’t believe you, that your words wouldn’t be enough to shift the mood.

After what felt like an eternity, he finally responded, his voice low and quiet, as if he were weighing his words carefully. “You know I’ll always take care of you.” he said, a slight smirk tugging at his lips, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

As Ward and Rose joined you, their voices faded into the background, murmuring about wedding decorations. You couldn’t really focus on their conversation—it all seemed too distant. That is, until Ward spoke, his words pulling you back to the moment.

“You know, seeing all this today… makes you think, doesn’t it?” he said, a knowing smile on his face.

Rafe raised an eyebrow, leaning in slightly. “Well, I mean, you two have been together for how long now?” His tone was casual, but there was something more in his words. “Maybe it’s time to make it official, huh?”

A nervous laugh escaped your lips, the sound shaky even to your own ears. Make it official. The idea of being Rafe’s wife—tied to him forever—terrified you. You already felt vulnerable as his girlfriend, but you couldn’t even imagine the weight of being his wife. You hesitated, unsure how to respond, but before you could gather your thoughts, Ward cut in, his voice teasing.

“Just saying, you never know when the right moment hits. Might be sooner than you think.” His gaze flicked to Rafe, who was looking at you now, his eyes unreadable.

Your heart raced. The thought of marrying Rafe felt suffocating, but what could you do?

──────────────────────

“It’s getting kind of late, huh? We’re heading back. Come on,” Rafe said, hurrying you toward his Jeep. He opened the passenger door for you, but the sharp, forceful way he slammed it shut made it clear—he was angry. For some reason. And that wasn’t a good sign, especially since you were supposed to spend the night at his mansion.

The drive was painfully silent. The only sound was Rafe’s heavy sighs, each one deeper than the last, like he was wrestling with something intense in his mind.

“Rafe?” you asked softly, but there was no response.

“Rafe,” you said again, this time a little louder, a little more desperate.

“Can’t you just shut up?!” His voice shot back, sharp and filled with anger.

He didn’t even glance at you. His eyes were locked on the road, hands gripping the wheel so tightly his knuckles were white. The tension in the car was suffocating, and a cold shiver ran down your spine. You felt a knot form in your stomach, a mixture of fear and confusion.

When you finally pulled into the driveway, Rafe stormed out of the car without a word, slamming the door behind him. He didn’t look back as he made his way to the mansion’s front door, opening it with a force that echoed through the night. You hesitated for a moment, but you knew better than to stay behind. Reluctantly, you followed, heart racing as you made your way up the stairs to his room.

When you reached the room, you found him halfway through unbuttoning his shirt, movements sharp. But then your eyes met his — filled with fury, burning like a storm ready to explode.

For a moment, neither of you moved, just stood there, locked in a tense stare. The silence was suffocating, until he broke it.

“You don’t have anything to fucking say?” His voice was like a slap.

Confused and a little shaken, you furrowed your brows, trying to process his words, but your heart was racing, your thoughts jumbled.

Rafe ran a hand through his messy, dirty blonde hair, his frustration clear as he moved toward you. His eyes burned with anger.

“Of course you don’t,” he spat, his voice full of venom. “You know why?” He didn’t wait for an answer, his gaze sharpening as he watched the confusion on your face, the look only making his anger flare up further. “Because you don’t think.”

“You embarrassed me,” he hissed, taking another step toward you, his presence almost suffocating. The tension between you two was unbearable now, the weight of his words hanging in the air.

“You made me look like a fucking idiot,” Rafe repeated, his voice low and sharp. “In front of my father, in front of Rose—everyone.” His hand shot out, gripping your jaw tightly, forcing you to meet his furious gaze.

“I’m sorry, Rafe. I didn’t mean to,” your voice trembled, the fear clear in every word.

He nodded slowly, a cruel smirk spreading across his face as he flicked his tongue over his lips.

“Yeah, yeah, you’re sorry, huh?” he mocked, taking a step closer, his breath hot against your skin. “But you still don’t want to marry your own boyfriend, right?”

so it was about that.

“It’s not what I meant, Rafe,” you tried to reason, your voice trembling, but he cut you off with a bitter laugh.

“I swear, you’re making me mad on purpose,” he growled, his words sharp and filled with frustration.

You shook your head, as much as you could with his firm hold on your cheeks, the pressure making it hard to breathe. But Rafe didn’t stop.

He nodded slowly, his expression twisted with emotion. “You like it, don’t you?” His voice shook, full of frustration and bitterness. “It’s like your favorite thing in the world.”

“I’m sorry, Rafe,” you whispered, your voice shaky as you tried to pull his hands away, but his grip was like iron.

“Yeah, you said that,” he snapped, his tone colder than before, the anger still burning beneath it.

He let go of your face—for now—and pointed sharply at his chest. “I’m your boyfriend, okay?” His voice was a low, dangerous growl.

You turned your head to the side, a small act of defiance that only seemed to fuel his anger.

“Look at me when I’m talking to you,” he demanded, his words a lingering threat in the air, his tone dripping with anger. “As your boyfriend, I expect some damn respect.”

You barely whispered, “I do—” the words swallowed by the weight of your fear and anxiety.

He tilted his head slightly, a dark chuckle escaping his lips. Anger still simmered in his eyes, but there was something wicked in the smile that tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Show me then,” he ordered, his voice low and cold as he pressed his hands firmly on your shoulders, forcing you to your knees.

As you sank down in front of him, the weight of the moment hit you. His intentions became clear when he began to unbuckle his belt, and a sick realization settled in—you knew exactly what he wanted you to do.

The house was empty. Ward and Rose were still celebrating at the wedding with Sarah, and Wheezie was probably fast asleep in her room. No one was coming. No one would hear. It was just you and Rafe.

You knew there was no reasoning with him. You knew Rafe too well—his volatile nature, the way his anger twisted into something dangerous, something unstoppable. Once his mind was set, there was no turning him back. And tonight, you could see it in his eyes—he wasn’t going to stop.

After he unbuckled his belt, the pants followed, unzipping to reveal his already semi-hard cock.

After all these times you had him in your mouth, it still made you feel suffocated by his size, the intensity always leaving you gasping.

“We’ll see just how much you really respect me.” He said and every part of you screamed to stop, to fight back, but the fear kept you frozen. You couldn’t bring yourself to say no—not when you knew the consequences of defying him would be far worse than enduring this humiliation.

His hand pressed against your head, guiding you with a firm yet controlling rhythm, forcing you to move in time.

His fury made him harsher than ever, as if your body was no longer your own, but a puppet to his demands. When you stole a brief glance up, your tear-filled eyes locked with his —there was nothing kind in it, only cold, detached control.

You just wanted it to end. You were drained, struggling to breathe, your throat raw with pain. Tears streamed down your face, but Rafe didn’t care. If anything, it only seemed to turn him on more.

He was even rougher now, his loud groans echoing through the room, each one more intense than the last. “You better not waste a single drop.” He spoke in a hoarse voice and moments later, he came in your mouth, you could feel warmth and the salty taste on your tongue as he continued to use you beyond his climax. After he finally let you go and saw that you had swallowed, he murmured, “Good.”