lovely distractions

He groans, laying back against his headboard as he watches you. "But I miss you so bad," He sits up a little, taking your lack of focus on him as an opportunity. Normally, he’d ask you to shut your laptop and notebook for a couple minutes so he can enjoy all of you after a whole day of not hearing the sound of your voice, but he’s so pent up and he doesn’t have you to take care of him.

"Tell me about your day, baby," he mumbles, one hand moving off his phone to discreetly slide his hand lower, lower… until it was at the waistband of his pants, slowly pushing them down so the camera doesn’t shake.

He doesn’t feel obligated to mute his microphone as you start talking, either. Maybe because there’s a thrill of you catching him and scolding him. Or better, you catching him and stripping and giving him a show as you touch yourself along with him. The thought sends a shiver down his spine and a twitch to his hardening cock.

Either way, he just wants your attention.

"It was mostly just classes today. Nothing special," You say, and he whines, not wanting you to stop talking. You smile, continuing to write notes and study. "Okay, okay. You’re such a baby, Rafe."

"I am not."

"You are."

"Fine. You never let me disagree with you anyway."

You laugh softly, a pretty twinkling sound that literally gives him butterflies. He grunts softly as his fingers brush against his hardening cock. He's been thinking about you all day, imagining all the things he wants to do to you when he sees you again. He's not sure how much longer he can last like this.

"So tell me more," He coaxes through a grunt, hand wrapped firmly around his cock. Just seeing you in your skimpy little clothes while you chew on the end of your pen while making direct eye contact with him is enough to make him throb. You huff teasingly, eyes rolling playfully as you get started on elaborating on your very boring day, unaware that his pants are off and he's rubbing his thumb back and forth on the drooling slit of his mushroom tip, panting softly into the receiver.

You're still not noticing. He's partially disappointed. It's not hard for you to take notice of it either. The camera's bobbing unnaturally, he's flushed and grunting softly, and his responses are soft 'uh huh's' and 'mm... yeah's'. Regardless, his eyes roam your body, landing on your plush lips through the screen as he imagines you wrapping them around his cock and sucking him off when you see him again during break, your ass up and back arched while he lays down and you give him a nice view while your tongue swirls around his tip, fuck, he moans loudly, squeezing his cock with his fist.

"Rafe?"

He looks up, eyes hooded and hazy. You look confused, and he hopes you're finally starting to catch on. He grins, sweat trickling down the side of his jaw. He hasn't stopped. With neither of you talking, the schlick schlick schlick sound of him milking his cock is quite audible. Just his luck though, you still don't catch on.

"Just asked you a question, baby."

He groans, partially annoyed, extremely turned on. "What's that, gorgeous?" You smile so adorably at the compliment. He wants to ruin you. "I wanted to know what gifts your family would want for when I come over. I think Wheezie mentioned a Squishmallow."

"The hell is that." He grunts, now looking at the way the light reflects off your tits. You laugh, and he frowns, wanting you to see. He lowers his phone just enough for you to see the flushed tip of his cock if you really focus, still stroking himself. His eyes flutter and he bites back a moan, now thinking about you sucking him off again, but this time using your breasts too.

You tilt your head curiously, still not quite catching on to Rafe touching himself. "A kind of stuffed toy? I'll ask her to make sure," you reply distractedly, flipping through a few more pages of your textbook. Rafe growls lowly, your casual demeanor only encouraging him. He wants nothing more than to reach through the screen and grab you, to pull you onto his throbbing cock and make you feel every inch of his pent-up desire.

But for now, he's left to grind his teeth and stroke himself, hoping like hell you'll notice his telltale movements and sounds. Sometimes you could be so blind. "What about me? What do I get?" he murmurs suggestively, almost letting you see his hand gliding up and down his shaft, the camera angle unmistakable now. He squeezes his thick cock from base to tip, lips parted slightly. His cheeks are a pretty pink.

"Me, duh." You smile. "Why? Want me to get you a gift with the money you keep putting in my account? You'd basically be getting a gift for yourself, Rafey."

You lean over to grab your pen, your breasts strain against the thin fabric of your bra. The flimsy material does little to hide your hardened nipples, clearly visible in the dim light of your dorm room. Just then, you hear a loud groan over the phone, startling you. "What's wrong, Rafe?" you ask, brows furrowed with concern.

Rafe grits his teeth, desperately trying to hold back a moan as he realizes you've finally noticed his predicament. "N-nothing, baby. I just… I got a cramp, that's all," he lies unconvincingly, his voice strained.

His hand moves faster, milking his cock intently. The obscene sound of his strokes fills the otherwise quiet room. You notice his labored breathing, the way his chest rises and falls rapidly with each panting breath. A flicker of realization crosses your face as you realize what's really going on. "Rafe, are you...?" you start to ask, a hint of amusement and surprise in your voice.

Of course he'd be touching himself to you. He's always been kinda pervy for you. He tells you all the time which of your pictures make him cum the hardest, but jerking himself off to you in real time is sort of different. Before you can finish your question, Rafe lets out a deep, guttural moan, his hips bucking up off the bed as he starts to come undone. "F-fuck, baby. I can't... I need you so fucking much," he growls, his hand moving in a blur beneath the sheets.

He thrusts into his hand, head tipping back. He fully lowers his phone, letting you watch what he's doing. It adds to the thrill he experiences, and he groans loudly, not bothering to hide anything from you anymore as he brings himself to the edge, hot spurts of cream coating his long fingers.

He rocks himself through his orgasm, mumbling your name under his breath and imagining he came inside you instead, causing him to leak a little more. He squeezes out all he's got, panting and leaning back against his bed as he comes down from his high.

He lowers his head to make eye contact with you, a lazy grin spreading across his handsome face. "Did you see that, baby? Did you see what you do to me?" he asks teasingly.

You blush deeply, suddenly feeling the warmth of your own arousal spreading through your body. "mmm.. mhm," you hum softly, shifting in your seat to relieve some of the pressure building between your thighs.

He leans back against the headboard, his head falling back against the wall with a soft thunk as he groans. "Fuck, I need to be inside you. You better be ready for me, hm? Gonna fuck you like I hate you."

ᥫ᭡.

Rafe likes to watch everything when he wrecks you. He has your legs shoved upwards as his body slots between you, drilling into you in a mating press on his bed.

The second you came to visit him during the holidays, he made light on his promise. He had picked you up, shoved your suitcase by his front door for later, and swung you over his shoulder like a caveman. You had merely squealed and giggled, squirming playfully when he gave your butt a little squeeze. It was cute, he'd thought then, how you had no idea what he was going to do to you. You just thought he was playing with you.

You're a little more conscious now about what he wanted as he thrusts into you hard and sloppy, your face scrunched up in pleasure while needy whines leave your kiss swollen, bitten lips. He rolls his hips rough and firm into you, and you're so soaked that each thrust had filthy gushing sounds resounding through the room as your slick coats Rafe's cock and your thighs.

"Rafe!" You scream, heart slamming against your chest with each thrust. Perhaps the time apart has made him sloppy in bed, or maybe he's so desperate that he can't control himself, because his thrusts are uncoordinated and hard and rough.

He moans, loud and unashamed, spreading you apart further as he shoves his fat cock into you sporadically, his strokes rough and hard enough to jolt your whole body. "Fuck, this fucking pussy," He groans, using every bit of his willpower not to bust his load in you each time you squeeze down on him or dig your nails into his broad shoulders. "Drives me... ugh, fucking insane."

Each time he bottoms out of your creamy hole and drags his cock against your walls up up up until the flushed tip of his cock is nestled against that really soft spot deep inside you that makes your toes curl, he doesn't stop until he hears that telltale squelching sound of his cock filling you to the hilt, with his bulbous mushroom tip hitting the very back of your cunt, kissing all your little sweet spots all at once.

Rafe grunts in satisfaction as he feels you clench around him, your velvet walls gripping his thick cock like a vice. He knows you can feel every ridge and vein as he grinds against your most sensitive spots. Because you're screaming, legs shaking and fat tears of pleasure rolling down your cheeks.

"Fuck, knew you wanted me to fuck you like a whore," he grunts, feelings the pleasant sting of your nails dragging down his back and leaving red welts in their wake. You moan, eyes locked onto his, which are hooded, the pretty ocean blue replaced with a dark, stormy color. He looks rabid. "Mngh yeah… 'm your whore, Rafey," You mewl, reaching up to grab onto his face and push your mouth against his.

He swallows all your little cries, tongue shoving into your mouth and tangling with yours while his leaking cock rams into you. "Fuck yeah, you are. My little slut. Allll mine. Fuck, you're fuckin' made for me, you know that? Listen to how your little pussy takes me in. She doesn't want me to leave," he moans into your mouth, practically slurping on your tongue. "We aren't meant to be apart, pretty girl,"

He nips and sucks on your lower lip, laving his tongue over it, before trailing open-mouthed kisses along your jaw and down the column of your throat. He latches onto your pulse point, sucking hard enough to leave a vivid mark. "Got so fucking sick of daydreaming about you all the time." He moans against your neck.

"All the time. All I did was think about my perfect little girlfriend. I can't fucking take being without you." You keen, back arching as he gropes at your tits, the pad of his thumb rolling roughly over your swollen nipples as he practically slobbers onto your throat, marking you up. "Missed you too, mmm… f-fuck… more, Rafe," You babble, and he almost, almost cums when you moan his name like that. Gosh, he can't handle you.

He can feel his release building, his heavy balls drawing up tight as the telltale tingling starts at the base of his spine. But he grits his teeth, refusing to let go just yet. He wants to make this last, wants to linger in the exquisite torture of bringing you to the brink again and again before finally allowing you the sweet relief of climax.

He slows his thrusts, rolling his hips upwards to hit that gummy spot in you without fail with each thrust, simultaneously stimulating your clit with each pass. He pinches your nipples one by one, before licking your clavicle. "Yeah? Feels good?" he moans, hips driving forward mercilessly. Each thrust drives his fat fucking cock deeper into your pussy, stretching you around him until you swear you can feel every throbbing inch of him pulsing inside you. "Feels real fucking good for me, princess. Can't get enough of you."

Unable to muster an intelligable response at this point, you cry out his name, voice slurring as your hips buck up to meet his. Your needy sounds in response are all he needs to come down. He leans down to sink his teeth into the meat of your shoulder, biting down as he slams into you one last time, burying himself to the hilt as his orgasm crashes over him.

His cock pulses and throbs as he shoots thick ropes of hot cum deep into your hungry womb, painting your walls white as he fills you up just like he promised. You both cry out all loud and wanton as you cum with him, your hips jerking as you ride out the intense waves of pleasure coursing through your body.

He collapses against you, weight pressing into the mattress as he leaves sloppy kisses over your tits, sucking on your breasts to help your orgasm crash down long and hard.

see more in my obx masterlist

“Rafe— baby, stop— we can’t right now—“ You tried to say in between your boyfriend's kisses, as he was on top of you, pinning you to the bed, making his intentions clear with the way his hardness pressed against your thigh. You were expecting just an innocent movie night with cuddles, but he definitely had other ideas when, in the middle of the movie, he just put it on pause and, with a groan, rolled onto you.

“Why not? You’re on your period or somethin’?” He mumbled against your lips, still not wanting to keep himself away from you and kneading your thigh with one hand. You shook your head, making him finally pull away with a questioning look. “You don’t want to?”

“I do, but… we just can’t.” You mumbled again, your eyes wandering anywhere but his face, as you felt your own face heating with embarrassment. Your reason for that was stupid, even childish maybe, but at that point in your relationship, when it was still so fresh, you were not ready to cross that line yet. 

“What do you mean? You’re horny, I’m horny, what’s the problem?” He teased, trying to ease you a little bit. His hand reached for your face, bringing your eyes back to his with the simple tilt of your head. 

“Rafe, that’s embarrassing!” You threw your head back against the pillow. Your hands gripped his shoulders in an attempt to push him slightly away, too shy under his intense gaze, but he just nestled further in between your thighs, being his usual stubborn self. You huffed in slight annoyance, knowing damn well that since he knew there was a reason, he wouldn't stop bothering you.

“I promise it’s not, just tell me.” He gave you a one-sided smirk, leaning in to trace his lips along the column of your neck, making your breath hitch. “Tell me.”

“I don’t like my underwear.” You mumbled so quietly that for a moment Rafe thought that he had hallucinated it, but then he pulled away with such a grin on his face that you wanted to melt into the bed from the pure embarrassment. 

“You what?” 

“Oh my God, don’t say anything!” You whined, covering your burning face with your hands, pulling your head to the side in a weak attempt to hide in the pillow. Rafe tried to keep quiet, he really did, but the whole situation and your reaction were way too hilarious. “Now you’re laughing!”

“I’m sorry— no, baby, don’t try to run away.” He trapped you back under him, in the same position, after you tried to sneak away. You didn’t know whether you wanted to laugh or hit yourself on the head for even admitting that to him, but now it was too late to think about it, as he would probably get all the information out of you, one way or another. “You really think I care about your underwear when I’m about to get some pussy?”

“I just didn’t think that we would, you know, have sex… I thought that we’re gonna watch a movie and cuddle, and it literally slipped out of my mind, so I just put on, like, the regular ones.” You managed to say despite the way your face was literally on fire. Rafe was trying to not make the situation worse, you had to give him that. He was holding back a smile, probably biting the inside of his cheek, and rubbing your thigh lazily. But you knew him. You saw that sparkle in his eyes that he had whenever his pretty head had something smart to say. 

And now he was absolutely relishing the way you got shy.

He then sat up in between your legs with a lazy grunt, eyes roaming over your body, which was spread so comfortably on his bed in a mess of soft blankets. His hands were on your thighs until one of them trailed a little bit higher, just barely slipping under your shorts, as his thumb slowly trailed the edge of your panties.

“You’re overthinking it, baby, I promise.” Rafe’s eyes darted between your face and his hand. He licked his lips slowly, as if imagining his tongue on the place where his finger was. 

“But they’re pink with some flowers on them. It’s just… We did it just a few times, and I always prepared, and you saw me in those sexy lace ones.” Your voice grew quieter at the last words, hands folded on your stomach, nervously fidgeting. “I just want to look good for you.”  

“You do look good for me. Always. See, the lace is hot as fuck, I’m not the one to complain when you wear it. But these?” You saw the way his eyes narrowed the moment his hand tugged down the waistband of your shorts just enough for him to see the pastel cotton material underneath it. “Holy shit, it makes me hard because it’s so you. Soft and cute and sexy. God— I’m gonna blow up if you won’t let me put my mouth on it.” He chokes on his own words, now fully taking off your shorts and sliding down on his stomach in between your legs, face-to-face with your pussy. 

You couldn’t even bring yourself to be embarrassed anymore. The way Rafe looked at you? The way his eyes darted between your flushed face and already soaked material of your panties, as if asking for permission? Oh, you were so gone for him.

His eyes rolled back the moment his lips connected to your clit through the cotton. He hummed, savoring the taste, giving you a soft lick, and fully soaking the material until it was almost see-through with your arousal and his spit. Your hips moved instinctively to his mouth, and your hand reached to his head to keep him where you needed him the most, while your thighs tightened around his head. 

Rafe nibbed at your clit teasingly, enough to make your spine arch off the bed and that pretty sound slip from your mouth, but not enough to make it hurt. “So pretty for me, baby. So sweet. I could eat you out for hours, I swear.”

“Rafe—” You whimpered, hips twitching at the friction, the warmth of his breath through the soaked fabric making your brain go fuzzy. You tugged at his roots, unable to stop yourself and feeling like you might lose your mind if he didn’t do something.

“Mhm?” He hummed like he wasn’t absolutely feral between your thighs, like he wasn’t already halfway undone just from tasting you through your cutesy little panties. “You still embarrassed, baby?” You shook your head, or better said, tried to, but your muscles weren’t cooperating. Not when he flattened his tongue against your clothed clit again and groaned like it was the finest five-course meal he’d ever had.

It was all new to you. This was the line you and Rafe had never crossed before. The first few times it was usual, kind of awkward sex, where you both tried to understand each other's bodies and get comfortable with the intimacy. But this? The way he put his mouth on you without hesitation, as if you did it a thousand times? This was another level of lust that neither of you expected to feel so suddenly. And now he was in between your legs, completely feral and out of his mind for you.

He pressed his thumb into the damp cotton, circling lazily, watching you squirm. “This is better. It’s you. Real you. Sweet little thing who wanted to cuddle and didn’t even know she was gonna drive me insane. God, my cock is going to explode.” Your thighs clenched around his head, and that smug bastard smiled into your core. The vibrations alone had you gasping.

Then, as if getting way too frustrated with not being able to taste you fully, he peeled your panties to the side, groaning at the sight of your glistening pussy. Didn’t even bother taking them off. Just shoved them aside like they were keeping him from his favorite view.

“Ohhh, fuck, look at you.” He breathed, licking his lips, with that lustful look in his eyes. You bit your lips, looking down at him and clenching from that sight only. “So wet already, baby. You let me get you like this in some flower-print panties? Shit, you’re perfect.”

Your heart did a full somersault. But before you could even process that, his tongue finally met you. Without a barrier this time, there was no teasing, his mouth just started working on you, and it made your back arch and your hand fly to his hair again. You weren’t even pulling anymore but just holding on to ground yourself. 

At first Rafe didn’t even bother with rhythm. It was straight up just messy, greedy licks, like he was too desperate to care about anything else. Then, once he found the exact spot that made your hips twitch up from the bed as if in an attempt to grind against his tongue and your toes curl, that’s when he got focused. That’s when he locked his arms around your thighs, held you open the way he needed to, and rutted his own hips against the bed.

“Rafe— oh my God—” You choked out, breath catching on every wave of pleasure. Your whole body was buzzing, every nerve was ready to snap.

“I know, baby. I know.” His voice was thick and fucking hoarse. “Just let me have you like this a little longer.” He sucked your clit into his mouth, just once, and you screamed, with hands fisting in his hair and legs trembling on both sides of his head, and he groaned like he was getting off on the sound of you falling apart.

You felt the orgasm crawl up your spine before you could even brace yourself. Your body tensed, hips stuttering against his mouth, but Rafe didn’t let up, just slid one strong arm under your ass to pull you closer, deeper into him, until you were crying out his name in the silence of the room.

He moaned when you came on his face, lapping every single drop coming out of his body, kissing and softly licking your sensitive bud to help you ride through it. By the time you finally slumped back against the pillows, boneless and breathless, Rafe rested his head on your thigh with the laziest, most satisfied grin.

“You still worried about your underwear?” He asked, voice smug and rasping, glistening mouth pressed to your skin.

You barely managed to swat his shoulder, hands limp. 

“I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.” And then he was crawling back up your body, kissing all the way from your pussy to your stomach, chest, and finally mouth. You tasted yourself on his tongue, moaning in his mouth in surprise, while he held your face firmly with one hand and felt every last drop of your embarrassment melt away.

You were still catching your breath when you felt him shift above you, muscles taut, chest heaving, jeans doing a very poor job of hiding just how painfully hard he was. His eyes were heavy-lidded and dark, his jaw was clenched, and there was a red flush creeping up his neck. You knew that look.

“Fuck.” He growled under his breath, his palm grazing that flushed, swollen bulge in his jeans, slightly moving away in order for you to see it too. You swore that the sight of him palming himself, with you knowing exactly what was under that, made you even more turned on, if that was even possible. “You’ve got no idea what you do to me.”

He leaned back down, pressed kisses to your jaw, and sucked just a little lower, where he already knew was your sweet spot, then lowered himself further, hips aligning with yours. And when his clothed cock brushed against your covered pussy? You felt him twitch. Like he could barely handle the contact.

“You gonna let me?” He rasped, grinding against you again, slower this time, making your panties cling to your skin again. His voice cracked on the last word, like even asking was taking effort. “Just… fuck against it a little. Please, baby. Just a little.” 

Your brain barely had time to form a reply — you were too focused on the way his thickness pressed against you, the wet patch already visible on his jeans. And when he did it again, groaning low in his throat as he rutted his hips against you, the heat between your legs flared up, making you moan and instinctively reach for the button and fly on his jeans. You pushed his clothes down, wanting to cry from the loss of contact when Rafe pulled away to take his jeans and boxers fully off.

When he got back in between your spread legs, he stepped closer to you, his heavy and pulsing cock fell on your bare cunt, making you clench around nothing again. That picture alone was definitely the hottest thing you had ever seen.

“Jesus fucking Christ.” Rafe hissed, experimentally pushing forward. He smeared his pre-cum against your panties, sliding up and down a few times. For a few moments you were silent, too mesmerized to even say anything. Your body was basically twitching from the feeling of him against you, your brows furrowed and mouth slightly agape. “I’ve never felt so horny in my life, I swear, baby. Gonna lose my fucking mind.”

Your hands found his, which were placed on your thighs, nails digging into his skin to anchor yourself to something because his cock was sliding perfectly between your folds now — not inside, not yet, but dragging against your clit just right, like he knew exactly what he was doing.

Rafe kept going, grinding in little circles, panting above you with a wild look in his eyes. “You feel that? How hot you are for me?” He groaned. “I’m not gonna last like that, baby. I swear to God, I’m already— fuck, I might cum from just looking at you.”

You moaned his name, high and breathy, rolling your hips up to meet his. The friction was heaven. Fucking filthy, wet heaven. Your panties were soaked, his cock glistening with probably the mix of his spit and your juices, and you were both losing control with every passing second.

“Can’t—I can’t take it anymore, I need to feel you.” You managed to choke the words out of you, eyes glazy and barely focused. You reached for him with your hands, grabbing his neck and pulling him on top of you, desperate to feel his weight, his breath on your skin, when you knew what he would do next.

Rafe reached down blindly, and just like before, he shoved your panties to the side again, but rougher this time, less teasing, as he was way too desperate to feel you clenching around him. His fingers barely fumbled because he was more confident with your body now, feeling like he knew exactly what you needed and how to make you feel good. And the second the slick folds of your pussy were bared to him, he let out the most desperate, broken sound you’d ever heard.

“God, baby— please, please, can I?” He whispered, forehead pressed to yours, breath stuttering as he lined himself up, holding his cock at your soaked hole and waiting for your permission. “It’s gonna be so good.” He groaned, barely holding back. “You’re gonna let me fuck you with them on, pretty girl? Gonna let me fill you so nice and full without anything? God, you’re soaked…”

You nodded. Didn’t even care if you were supposed to ask him to wear a condom like you did before. Your whole body was craving him raw and without any barriers, so you were happier to be on the pill than ever before. He bit his lip, groaning and probably sharing the same thought that you did and then he pushed in.

One thrust — slow and teasing, just the head, just enough to stretch you, make your mouth drop open, and your eyes flutter shut.

“Oh my God.” He choked, trembling, holding himself back by a thread, as his head fell forward near yours on the pillow. “You’re so warm— I swear, I’m gonna cum just from the way you squeeze me like this.”

Rafe eased in further, your panties still bunched to the side, waistband digging into your thigh. Everything was messy, from your soaked panties to the kiss that he pulled you in with you both moaning in each other’s mouths and to the way his hips were sloppily slamming into yours.

You gasped, wrapping your legs around him, pulling him deeper. He thrust deep, fast, and desperately now, the room echoing with skin-on-skin and ragged moans, his free hand holding your throat just enough to make your head dizzy. 

Every time Rafe bottomed out, you swore you could see stars, and he never took his eyes off you, even when they rolled back for a second, even when his rhythm started to stutter. His cock was slamming into you with full force, the tip brushing your cervix with each thrust, and for you it felt like too much and not enough all at once. 

“I’m so fucking close.” He groaned, slamming his hips forward, pressing his thumb at the side of your neck until your eyes rolled back. “Gonna fill you up, fu-u-uck— not even gonna pull out. Gonna ruin your pretty pussy and your panties, baby.”

His hips jerked, his whole body shuddered, and he buried his face in your neck as he came hard, spilling into you with a deep, guttural moan. You felt every pulse, every twitch, every second of it, and it sent you absolutely spiraling, making your own orgasm crash over you in a dizzying wave. You whined and moaned his name, dragging your nails down his back and pulsing around his cock so much he swore he could’ve come the second time. 

Your body went limp, blood pumping in your ears, feeling the sticky mess covering your pussy and the inside of your thighs, as well as the thin layer of sweat all over your body. Rafe nestled comfortably on top of you, grounding you with his weight, covering the side of your neck with barely noticeable kisses. 

For a few minutes the room was deadly silent, and neither of you wanted to speak and ruin that moment. But then Rafe slowly rolled over to the side, pulling you with him in order for you to face him. Your cheeks were burning. You tried to bury your head against his shoulder, but Rafe caught your chin between his fingers, gently turning your face toward him.

“Don’t go all shy on me now.” He murmured, voice low and warm and still a little breathless. “You just let me fuck the soul out of you. Think I earned at least one look.”

You let out a soft, embarrassed laugh, avoiding his eyes even as your body curled closer. “That was… I’ve never—” You shook your head, biting your lip. “I’ve never done that before.”

Rafe’s expression instantly shifted into something softer, blue eyes roaming over your face. You bit your lip at the sight of him looking like that—flushed, slightly damp hair and that sheepish, boyish smile on his face.

“Me either.”

You blinked up at him, surprised, but you saw that he was not lying, that the whole thing that just happened affected him the same way. “Swear to God.” Rafe ran his fingers down your side, slow and lazy, like he never wanted to stop touching you. “I’ve had sex, but that? Shit, that was… different.”

You didn’t know what to say to that, didn’t know how to calm down the freaking butterflies in your stomach from his words, his touch, his look. You traced your fingers along the slope of his collarbone, feeling the thrum of his heartbeat still going hard under his skin. “You’re staring.” You whispered, your voice barely above a breath.

“So are you.” Rafe said back, smirking.

You tried to look away again, but he didn’t let you. Rafe’s hand slid to the small of your back, pulling you in until there was nothing between the two of you, until the only thing you could focus on, again, was him.

“I mean it, though.” He murmured, brushing his nose against yours. “The effect you have on me? You’re dangerous. Fuckin’ ruined me.” You smiled, shy but happy, and tucked your face into the crook of his neck, feeling safer than you ever had in your life.

Another long silence passed, much more comfortable this time, with just both of you enjoying the feeling of each other and not ready yet to stand up and clean the mess.

But of course, Rafe and his mouth couldn’t stay quiet forever.

“Also.” He added, voice low and smug. “Gonna need you to wear those stupid little cotton panties every time now. Pretty sure I came harder because they had flowers all over ‘em”

You smacked his chest with a laugh, mortified. “Rafe!”

“What?” He grinned with that usual, cocky smirk, now way too full of himself. “You think lace is hot? Nah. Give me cute prints and my shy girlfriend who gets embarrassed about them, and I’m fucking feral.”

You groaned and hid your face again while he laughed, wrapping both arms tight around you and kissing the top of your head. He whispered into your hair, still grinning and enjoying your reaction.

It was already past afternoon when the sun started getting lower and setting the wild trails far away from Figure Eight in that warm and golden color. The trees all around you looked giant and intimidating with the way they were moving softly high in the sky with the soft breeze. 

You, Sarah, and Kie decided on a whim to hike out to the old lookout point near the bluffs—a spot Sarah swore had the best view of the sunset and where she and Rafe used to go when they were younger and the world didn’t set them apart. 

JJ, John B, and Pope needed to do something they swore was mega important on almost the other end of the island, and knowing them, Cleo volunteered to go there and make sure that they stayed out of trouble. So there were the three of you, almost in the middle of nowhere, with backpacks full of snacks and water and, well, just too much optimism about the “easy” trail and a promising view at the end. 

You all walked at a steady pace, talking about Sarah’s latest little fight with John B, while you looked around with awe and relished the peace and fresh air. The path turned rocky; the big roots of the old trees peeked out from the ground here and there. You tried to step carefully, looking down and not rushing to not trip over your own feet, but in one moment something went wrong. 

You didn’t even know what actually grabbed your attention or why you suddenly got distracted, but the second you did, you felt your feet sliding down the slippery and moss-covered root, making your ankle twist in a way that shot a hot-white pain through you. 

“Shit— ow, ow, ow!” You gasped when your body fell on the ground, almost in agony. Reaching out for the source of pain instinctively, you hissed when your fingers trailed the already swelling place on your leg. The girls turned at the sound, instantly crouching in front of you with worried and scared eyes. 

“Oh God, what happened?” Sarah reached out carefully, hand hovering just above your leg so as not to hurt you. 

You blinked away the sudden tears in your eyes, which appeared before you could even notice it. “I— Fuck, I slipped on something. It hurts so badly, and I think it’s starting to swell.”

Kie twisted your leg carefully, examining the damage. “Can you put a weight on it?” 

You tried to place your foot on the ground, barely even touching it, yet your vision instantly blurred from the pure and agonizing pain. 

“Nope. Nope, definitely not.”

The three of you stared at each other in dawning horror. The trail back to the main road was long, not to mention that then you had to find a way to get back home because you decided that a half-hour walk from Tanneyhill to here would be a great warm-up. A stupid decision, you now thought. The boys would probably take forever to get there, and by the time they would be able to find you in an unknown territory, it would already be dark. 

Sarah stood up, pulling out her phone and biting her thumb while she was thinking. “I could call dad, but he said he has a meeting today. Rose… she’s like totally useless.” She hesitated, before looking at you with expression that you though was somewhere between guilt and pity. You didn’t like that. “There one other person, who can get here fast and who know the place…”

“Rafe.” You said it flatly, and she nodded, while Kie scoffed and rolled her eyes beside you. 

Sarah winced. “He owes me, and he knows these paths better than I do since he liked to hide here all the time. Plus…” Her voice dropped, like she was not sure whether it was okay to say it or not. “He’s weirdly not awful to you. Like, he tolerates you more than anyone else.”

“Tolerates. Such high praise.” You snorted despite the throbbing feeling in your ankle. 

But you knew that there was truth behind it. You and Sarah were inseparable since you both were twelve, and all that time Rafe had no other choice but to have you around, especially during sleepovers at Tanneyhill. He had grown up watching you two, always grumbling something about you being insufferable together, yet… not actually doing anything to avoid you or scare you away. Instead, over time he started watching his tone when you were around. When the random dudes got too handsy and weird at the parties, he told them to fuck off. Once, he gave you his hoodie when someone spilled a drink all over your shirt. Another time he gave you a lift when you had no other way to get back home. 

He watched out for you—subtly, carefully, never letting you know that he was caring or paying attention. 

He never explained himself, and you never asked. 

So asking him, of all people, to come and play some kind of savior for you? Yeah, that seemed totally ridiculous. 

“He will be angry. Or just laugh and ignore it.” You sighed, dropping your head back and trying to even your breathing when the pain mixed with the sudden anxiety started pooling low in your stomach. “Or probably both.”

“Yeah, he literally called me a weirdo hippie the last time we saw each other.” Kie rolled her eyes, plopping down beside you with a grunt.

You laughed. “And before that you called him a freak because you thought he was following us.”

“Okay, I’m calling.” Sarah merged in while she was walking around you with an extended hand and trying to find a better signal. 

A few long minutes had passed before you heard long dials, feeling suddenly sick and, if it was possible, even more nervous about the whole situation.

“What?” Rafe’s voice came out sharply, like he was already annoyed with Sarah’s call. 

“Hey, Rafey.” Sarah said sweetly, using the nickname he absolutely despised. “We need a favor.”

“I’m busy.” He said after a long pause, and you could imagine him rolling his eyes or pinching the bridge of his nose.

“We’re kinda stuck on these trails away from the Figure Eight. Y/N twisted her ankle, like pretty badly, and she can’t walk. Me and Kie can’t carry her.” 

Silence, then a long sigh. You bit your lip, wincing and waiting for the worst. “You idiots. Why the hell did you even go there? After the fucking rain and without telling anyone?”

“Can you come? Please?” Sarah ignored his lectures, using her best not-annoyed voice. “We’re like… two miles away from the east access point.” 

“Fine.” He muttered. “But if it’s a joke, I swear—“

“It’s not.” Sarah interrupted. “Thanks.”

He hung up the phone. 

You looked down at the ground, weirdly interested in the grass near you, feeling that your face was burning with embarrassment. 

Probably almost an hour later, when you already couldn’t feel your ass from sitting on the solid ground, while girls tried to distract you and cheer you up, you finally heard solid steps somewhere not too far away. 

Rafe appeared around the bend, wearing faded gray shorts, a blue shirt, and that perpetual scowl. His hair was messy from the wind, and he looked like he’d been interrupted mid-workout—or mid-nap—and wasn’t thrilled about it.

He took one look at the three of you and shook his head. “Un-fucking-believable. You three couldn’t go for a walk in the neighborhood like normal people?”

Sarah stood up. “Hi to you too.”

He ignored her, looking straight at you, and you swore you saw the instant change in his eyes—maybe concern, maybe relief—but you could’ve just imagined that. He walked closer, crouching in front of you. 

“Show me.” 

You hesitated, but his eyes weren’t angry or accusing; you slowly and carefully lifted your injured leg off the ground. Rafe’s fingers, surprisingly gentle and careful, examined your ankle, touched the swollen place, then ever-so-slightly twisted it. You hissed, nails digging into your thigh from the pain. 

“Easy.” He murmured. “Don’t think that it’s broken, probably just a bad sprain. You tried putting something cold on it?”

“No ice in the wilderness, Rafe.” Kie scoffed from behind him. 

“No shit. There’s no ice when you’re irresponsible enough to go out here without a fucking first aid kit.” He looked back over his shoulder at Kie and his sister, making them both roll their eyes. Probably for the hundredth time. “Where are your other Boy Scouts, anyway?”

“They are busy on the other side of the island and couldn’t come.”

“Of course. Useless per usual.” He gently placed your leg back on the ground, standing up. “What if a storm rolled in? Or if there was no service?”

“Okay, we get it, Dad.” Sarah sighed, pointing back at you. “Are you gonna help us or what?” 

“Not “us”, but her. You two can figure it out yourselves.”

“Asshole.” Kie grumbled.

“Shut up.” Rafe snapped back, but there was no actual heat in it.

Then he crouched again, turning his back to you and looking at you over his shoulder. “Get on.”

You blinked stupidly. “What?”

“Get on my back. Before I change my mind and leave you here.”

Your heart slammed against your ribs, mouth suddenly dry. Rafe Cameron—Rafe—was offering to piggyback you. The same Rafe who once called you “Sarah’s annoying shadow.” The same Rafe whose hand you’d accidentally brushed in their kitchen once and felt like it electrocuted you—you were scared to even look at him after that.

You swallowed. “I… I don’t want to hurt you. Or make it weird.”

He glanced over his shoulder again, blue eyes narrowed but softer than usual. “You’re not heavy. And it’s already weird. Just get on before I drag you.”

“I thought you were going to just…” You stopped yourself. 

“Going to what?” 

“…I don’t know.” You mumbled after a few seconds because, literally, what else were you expecting to happen? Him teleporting you back home? 

“Mhm, exactly. Now move.”

You looked back at your friends, Kie with a frown on her face and Sarah looking like she was trying to hold back a smile and failing miserably, who then nodded in agreement with Rafe.

With a shaky breath and a grunt of pain you tried to swallow down, you shifted forward. Your arms tentatively landed on his shoulders, your chest just barely touched his back, trying to keep space in between your bodies. Rafe’s hands touched your thighs, then slid under your knees when he tried to place you comfortably and gently on his back to not disturb your foot. 

He stood up easily, readjusting your position and gripping your legs a little bit tighter. You tried to stop the fluttering in your chest that made your neck and face burn from the skin-on-skin contact. 

He made a frustrated groan. “You’re gonna fall off like that. Lean in, dumbass. I’m not gonna drop you.” 

That was actually the last thing you were thinking about. 

“I—okay.” 

You pressed a big closer. Your chest meeting the solid warmth of his back. Arms slid just a bit lower—enough to loop around his neck, but not enough to choke or make too much contact. 

Rafe nodded like he was still not satisfied with your position but let it slide just for now. He told the girls to carry your bags, follow him, and look where they were stepping in that annoyed yet protective way only Rafe Cameron could master. 

He started walking, moving steadily like there was no weight on his back. Carefully enough to not disturb your leg or let you hit any low-hanging branches. Sarah and Kie were somewhere behind you, seemingly far enough that you could barely understand what they were talking about. The pain in your ankle was a bit duller now, or maybe you were just too aware of the situation, and your mind pushed it somewhere aside just for now. 

The heat of his body seeped to you through the thin material of your clothes. The unmistakable smell of his cologne—something warm, woody, and expensive—invaded your senses. With the way you were seated, you swore you could see and feel the way his muscles moved with every step, making it way too hard to focus on anything else. 

You tried to hold yourself still, your posture stiff and detached, to not make it seem too weird or too intimate. Because touching Rafe Cameron, being so close to him, wasn’t something that you allowed yourself to think about. And this was just a favor—nothing more, nothing less. 

Just a few minutes after, your back started killing you from an awkward and way too rigid position. You wiggled slightly, pulling backwards, making Rafe adjust and grip under your legs tighter to hold you still. 

“Stop fighting it.” He grumbled low enough that only you could hear it.  “You’re yanking me off balance.” 

“Sorry.” Your voice sounded small and hesitant.

“Just… relax. Lean against me properly. Wrap your hands tighter if you need to. I got you, I promise.” He said it a bit softer, barely slowing down his rhythm.

Your heart stuttered. Slowly, you forced your body to comply—you leaned forwards, now fully leaning against his back, letting your hands wrap a bit tightly around his neck with your fingers feeling the solid muscles on his shoulders. Your cheek rested on your own forearm just mere inches from his own face, in a position that gave you a perfect opportunity to stare at his side profile up close. 

You exhaled deeply as the last remaining tension bled out of you. 

“There.” He hummed, almost gently. “That’s better.” 

You nodded. “Yeah. Thanks, Rafe.”

He didn’t reply right away. Just kept walking, pace steady. Sarah and Kie trailed behind, talking softly, giving you space. You felt yourself getting sleepy from the motion and smell that fully enveloped you until Rafe just barely turned his head. His soft blue eyes caught yours instantly, and with the way your heart started pounding against your ribs, you swore he could feel it too, because he was close—way too close to be innocent and normal. 

“How’s your leg?” He looked away, focusing back on the trail.

“Um, it’s okay. Pulsating, but bearable.” 

“You scared me there.”

“I did?” You furrowed, stunned.

“Yeah.” Rafe nodded once, voice lower. “When Sarah called me and said you couldn’t walk.” 

“Oh… I thought I annoyed you.” You laughed even if admitting it out loud stung something deep in you—something you couldn’t name. “I thought you would be mad and tell us to deal with it ourselves.”

“You do annoy me, but like… in a good way. I wouldn’t leave you here, especially hurt, you know that?” Rafe’s voice suddenly sounded serious when he side-eyed you to catch your reaction.

You hesitated. “I guess now I do.” Your fingers tightened on his shoulder ever so slightly, and you swore you saw a soft smirk forming on Rafe’s lips before silence fell around you again. 

When fifteen minutes later you saw a familiar view of the parking lot, Rafe suddenly shifted you slightly higher on his back, grip steady and firm on your legs. Protective. 

“You owe me.” He said gruffly. 

“Name it.” 

The silence seemed heavy when Rafe hesitated to say something back to you. Your eyes studied the side of his face again, now a bit more openly, seeing the way he stared right ahead of him, yet it seemed like the answer sat heavy on his tongue and he couldn’t bring himself to say it. 

The trail slowly flattened out into the gravel of the parking lot, and you finally saw Rafe’s dark blue SUV sitting lonely under the tree and the fading orange light of the sky. 

“Dinner.” It came out so suddenly you thought you imagined it. Your breath caught.

“Not like some fancy bullshit at the Figure Eight or whatever.” He added quickly, suddenly almost tripping over his own words. “Just something nice. Without others. You can pick any place if you want. Or I can. I mean—whenever you’re not hobbling around like a baby deer.” 

It wasn’t a question, and it wasn’t a demand either. Like Rafe said it in a way that made an easy escape just in case you said no or laughed at the idea. Your mind just went blank for a moment, because there was no way he actually meant what you just heard. 

Your face went hot, your brain suddenly very aware of how tightly you were pressed against him and how his fingers twitched under your legs as if from nerves. 

“…Diner.” You repeated, slowly, catching the way his jaw clenched. 

“Yeah.” He shrugged one shoulder like it was no big deal, but you felt the tension in his frame. “You owe me. That’s the price.”

You bit your lip so hard you tasted blood. “Okay.” You said before you could overthink it into oblivion. “Dinner. Deal.”

Rafe didn’t say anything else, but you felt the corner of his mouth twitch against your forearm.

When you finally reached the car, Rafe let you carefully slide off his back. You landed on your good leg, but the moment you did, he turned around and lifted you up again—this time in bridal style. 

You tried to protest, but the girls came into the view, talking about him being way too fast while they got in the back seat of the car, seemingly not paying attention to the position you were currently in. 

Rafe maneuvered you slowly, opening the passenger door with one hand and placing you down carefully. He crouched beside you, adjusting your leg and making sure that you were comfortable. 

“Try to not put any pressure on it.” You just nodded, because the words were stuck in your throat. 

To make things worse, Rafe leaned over you, his shoulder brushing your chest, when he reached for the seatbelt and clicked it into place, his fingers brushing your thigh. Your eyes flicked up when your breath caught in your throat, and for a second he froze too, just looking down at you. 

Your heart dropped into your stomach, face heating under his gaze once again. When Rafe finally moved away and closed the door, you closed your eyes just to pull yourself together. 

He sat in the driving seat, and the car roared to life. The girls were whispering something in the back, completely oblivious to the tension between you and Rafe. 

He tried to keep his focus on the road, not letting himself get too distracted with you. But your presence affected him in a way he couldn’t explain, and his eyes flickered to you every few minutes. 

Your hand rested near the console in between your seats. Rafe’s hand, restless, found a place there too—close enough that you could feel his warmth. You stared straight ahead, pretending to watch the trees blur past. Your fingers twitched, and the next moment his hand touched yours—barely, way too timid at first. But when you didn’t pull away, his pinky wrapped around yours. 

You still looked out of the window. No reaction on your face, even if inside everything was burning. 

Ten minutes later he pulled outside of your house, and before Rafe could even kill the engine, Sarah leaned forward in between two front seats, looking at Rafe with a twinkle in her eyes. His hand shot away from yours. 

“You should take her home, Rafe. Me and Kie will wait here, yeah?” She looked back at Kie encouraging her to agree. Rafe’s eyes bored into yours, looking at your reaction. 

“Fine, but don’t touch anything in here. Don’t want you two rummaging through my shit.” He grumbled, unfastening his seatbelt. 

“Bruh, wouldn’t touch anything with a three-foot pole. Don’t even want to know what freaks like you even do in their cars.” Kie’s face twisted when she folded her arms, trying to take up as little space as possible. 

Rafe’s jaw clenched. “Shut up before I drop you off on the street and make you walk back home.” 

“Could you both stop?”

Rafe glared at you, but neither of them said anything else. Rafe hopped out of the car, while you opened the door and tried to step on the ground safely, but he was at your side in a second—sliding one of his hands under your legs and placing the other one on your back. 

You made a soft gasp, hands wrapping around his neck involuntarily to hold yourself back from falling. 

“Rafe… I can do it myself. It’s not that far.” You protested, embarrassed that he had to carry you around for the third time today. 

“Don’t want you to hop around like a flamingo.” He pressed your body closer to his, leaving no room for any protests from you. Your head dropped lazily against his shoulder in surrender, as you used an opportunity to stare at him again, and from this position you were able to notice the faint freckles on the bridge of his nose and cheeks. You nuzzled closer, hiding a smile. 

Rafe reached the door in a few long steps, taking your keys and fidgeting with the lock until the door opened in front of you. 

The house was dark and quiet; your mom was still probably at work and oblivious to your little trip; the soft scent of candles and something weirdly yours filled Rafe’s lungs, and he breathed in deeply like he couldn’t get enough. It was the first time he went further than the front steps when a few times he dropped things that you accidentally left in Tanneyhill. 

You guided him through the house, insisting again that you can go upstairs yourself and meeting with the same response as before. Rafe finally entered your room, carefully placing you on the bed and looking around for a pillow to rest your foot on, but also stealing glances at the interior around. The books on the table, your heels on the floor near the dresser, a giant mirror with photos tucked into the corners of the frame, and plushies all over your bed. It was cozy, warm, felt so lived in, and tugged at something deep inside him—something that made him want to stay just a bit longer. 

Rafe got the ice from downstairs, towering over the bed to arrange everything.

“Here.” He murmured, covering your ankle with a packet of ice that made you wince but feel some kind of relief at the same time. “Keep it elevated. Ice for twenty minutes. Don’t put any pressure on your leg, okay? You can text me if you need anything.”

“Okay.” You looked up at Rafe, your voice barely above a whisper. He nodded, his hand lingering on your leg a few moments longer than necessary before taking a few steps back. “Thank you.”

The tension was so heavy when your eyes were locked on each other. You knew he wanted to say something more, seeing the way his lips parted and his hand flew out almost nervously to rub the back of his neck. 

But then he just nodded, jaw tight, and turned away to leave. 

Fuck it. 

You moved before your brain could scream at you and convince you to stop. Rafe’s name slipped softly from your lips, the ice pack falling down on the floor with a heavy thud when you jumped up on one leg. 

“What the hell are you—” Your hands grabbed his shirt the moment Rafe turned around, tugging him closer and down to your level. 

Your lips touched his. Rafe groaned in surprise, stiff as steel against you, but the moment you pulled away and looked at him—embarrassed, mortified that you read it all wrong—he moved forward. 

Rafe’s right hand held your face, the other one steadied you at your waist to help you stand on one leg. He loomed over you, fully enveloping you with his broad form, and finally kissing you the way he meant to for a long time—greedily, messily, like it was still not enough to satisfy him. 

You both pulled back after a while, staring at each other and smiling the moment the reality hit you. Rafe tugged you closer, for the first time feeling he had permission to hold you against him and relish the moment.

“I don’t mind this type of payment, but you won’t wiggle your way out of the dinner, y’know?” He teased, smiling, against your temple. Your hands found their place on his shoulders and squeezed softly. 

“Yeah, just… felt like doing it.” You whispered. 

Rafe finally laughed, backing you softly towards the bed with a strong hand around you. He arranged everything again—your foot up on the pillows, ice pack—and then leaned over you, hands pressed on both sides of your hips, face just inches away from yours. 

“Next time, just ask.” He murmured before kissing you again—now, slowly, tenderly, taking his sweet time to taste you. “I’ll text you later.”

“Okay.” 

When he left, you fell back against the pillow, staring at the ceiling of your room and feeling like it all was a fever dream. The pain in your leg was now the last thing you thought about.

Your phone pinged beside you with a notification.

Sarah: you two TOTALLY kissed 

Sarah: he’s trying to hold back a smile, i swear 

You threw the phone down without an answer, covering your face with both hands and feeling that you couldn’t hold back a smile either. 

Maybe the day wasn’t as bad as you thought at first.

read part 2 here

The first time Rafe Cameron stepped into your house, he was greeted not the way he expected. Over the few years of working in Cameron’s development and dealing with a bunch of people, he saw everything. But when the door opened, a pretty and young woman, a bit flushed and with eyes glassy from what seemed like anger, stood there and at first barely even noticed him, he was a bit taken aback. 

Not even a second after you opened the door, your boyfriend’s voice was heard from the distance—sharp, annoyed, like you two had been going at it for some time now. “…And could’ve stopped being such a bitch about my damn money!” Your head whipped back, hair almost bouncing in Rafe’s face, fully enveloping him in your scent, while he also tried to understand what on earth he had walked into. 

“Then you can deal with your shit by yourself from now on!” You yelled back to somewhere behind you, not even properly looking at the person at your door, because Rob woke up and decided to complain about everything under the sun, again, and by the afternoon you were already fed up and ready to explode. 

Rafe held back a tiny smirk of amusement, as just a corner of his mouth had barely lifted at your words. Your face then turned back to him again, and you bit your tongue the moment your eyes fully took him in—six foot something, broad shoulders that damn nearly took all of the space. A crisp white button-down stretched tightly across his form, the sleeves rolled up to show off the tanned and veiny arms that made your skin feel a bit warmer. Your eyes slowly trailed up to the blue ones that were already looking at you with interest and a tiny bit of enjoyment, to the messy and sun-bleached hair that looked just good enough to run your fingers through. 

You swallowed instinctively, as the man in front of you had the confidence rolling off of him in waves, making your knees feel a bit weaker and your head forget about the argument you’d been indulging in for the last twenty minutes. And the way he looked at you—eyes shamelessly sliding down your body, noting the curve of your waist and hips that were highlighted by your jeans and summer top—made your stomach flip even though the anger was still burning somewhere at the edges. 

“Hey.” The word rolled off Rafe’s tongue as he focused back on your eyes. His voice was low and calm, nothing like the bitchiness of your boyfriend you already got used to. “I’m Rafe Cameron. I and your... husband are supposed to work together on a site plan.”

"Boyfriend.” You corrected with a small scoff, leaning against the door frame. Rafe nodded, taking that into account. Not a husband. “Rob is in there. You can come in. I’m going to need some fresh air anyway.” Gesturing vaguely somewhere behind you, you gave him one last look, maybe a bit longer than necessary, before you pushed past him outside.

You squeezed in the doorframe so close to Rafe that he could feel you through the layer of his clothes. He couldn’t say anything else, mostly because you had already padded down the stairs, and all he could do was look back at you and at the way your hips moved while you walked away. The voice then called his name, and Rafe snapped back to reality, stepping inside of the house and now finally seeing Rob with a glass of whisky in his hand.

He shut the front door softly, his mind still just a bit hazy from an encounter with you. Rob walked down the stairs, greeting Rafe with a weak handshake, his pale face clearly flushed from the argument. 

“Sorry about her, man.” Rafe held back an instinct for a sharp reply because, as far as he could understand, Rob was the one screaming at his girlfriend and calling her a bitch. Instead, he just nodded indifferently—he still had to work with that man whether he liked him now or not, and if Rafe had an opportunity to see you around from time to time…well, maybe it wouldn’t be that bad. 

Indeed, after that, Rob invited him to talk at your house almost all the time. Papers about zoning permits, investors’ suggestions, and site plans were spread across the dining table, which always received an eye roll from you because you hated when Rob clustered everything with his work stuff and then had the nerve to tell you to not touch anything. 

Rob talked numbers and timelines like he knew stuff, but more often than not, Rafe thought that everything he said was complete bullshit. Yet the money from this project was promising, and seeing you all around was just a cherry on top. 

Rafe wasn’t creepy, wasn’t leering, but was more like… interested. His eyes kept finding you, as if he had a sixth sense, and every time you walked down the stairs, or came into the kitchen, or just wandered around for whatever reason, he couldn’t stop looking. His gaze lingered on the curve of your waist, on your bare legs, on your chest, or on your face—shamelessly studying and meeting your eyes, like your boyfriend wasn't sitting in the same damn room. 

Rob never noticed. 

Maybe he was that careless, maybe he was too confident, or maybe just outright stupid—Rafe didn’t decide that yet. He’d laugh, clap Rafe on the shoulder like they’re the best buddies, and complain that you were “on his ass” and "bitching" again. 

Rafe’s jaw ticked every time, a joke sitting on the tip of his tongue, and he had to hum something that would look like agreement so Rob would just shut up. Because, he thought, how fucking stupid should you be to have a woman like that walking in your house, and instead of having the time of your life, be a miserable bitch? And during that time, Rafe saw you both in your pajamas and no makeup on when you carelessly made yourself coffee, pretending not to feel his eyes on the back of your head, and in a full face of makeup and the sexiest summer dress he’d ever witnessed. 

So yeah, for him, Rob was a total loser who couldn’t handle what he had. 

On Thursday they were supposed to meet at 2p.m. at your house, and for that Rafe cleared out his schedule. Yet, when he pulled up in the driveway, there was no Rob’s car. He cursed under his breath, hopping out of the truck and wincing uncomfortably at the way his body started heating up from the button-up and suit jacket that he was wearing. He pressed on the bell a few times until the door opened, and there you were—pretty as always, this time with a soft smile, and looking all domestic in a simple flowy dress.

You took him in slowly, eyes roaming over the dark material stretched tightly over Rafe’s shoulder and biceps; a few opened buttons at the top gave you just a tiny glance at the tan skin and heavy gold chain. The weather was hot outside, and so you were wearing a simple white linen dress, which, you noticed, Rafe appreciated enough to stare at your bare legs and cleavage more than was appropriate. 

“Hey.” You leaned against the doorway the same way you did the first time, though now there was no sign of your annoyed boyfriend behind you. “Rob’s not at home.”

“Figured.” Rafe nodded with a scoff. He wiped at the few beads of sweat that formed on his forehead. “We were supposed to meet at 2p.m. Don’t know where he is?” 

“Well, he texted me about some important thing that came up at the last minute. Said he wanted to get home by noon but might be stuck in the office till evening.” 

“You’re joking.” Rafe's shoulders dropped as a deep frown appeared on his face when you shook your head no. “I cleared my schedule for this shit.” He mumbled, reaching for his phone to check the time.

“Sorry. He’s always like that.” You shrugged—there was nothing new about Rob being careless toward other people, and now he didn’t even bother to notify Rafe about the change of plans. Yet… A thought appeared in your head, as you looked at the frustrated and very hot, both figuratively and literally, man in front of you, that maybe it was a good chance to invite him inside to soothe the ache that you had for the past few weeks. 

“Since you’re here, you wanna come in? I just made myself an iced coffee, and there’s a fresh pie…” You trailed suggestively, tilting your head and studying his surprised face. The air seemingly shifted around you, and by the change in Rafe’s face, you were sure you both felt it. 

“Really?” He muttered, waiting for a joke that never came.

“Mhm.” You hummed. Rafe nodded then, eyes fixating on the way you smiled at him, stepping aside and letting him in. 

He brushed past you, walking towards the kitchen and casually taking off his jacket like he was already getting comfortable. The shirt slightly clung to his back, and, walking behind him, you took your sweet time to look there. 

Rafe settled down on one of the bar stools near the island, long legs stretched comfortably, sleeves already rolled to show off more skin and an expensive watch on his wrist.

You couldn’t help but think that he ws everything Rob ever wanted to be—effortlessly hot and confident, just oozing money and power without even putting on an act or trying to be anybody else. Rafe Cameron was like no one you’d ever met, and that spark in him, that simple and natural aura pulled you more and more since the day you first saw him. 

He leaned forward on his elbows against the marble, looking at you like you were something tasty, following you with his eyes while you were casually moving around the room. Pretending that you didn’t feel it. 

The hem of your dress moved softly against your thighs, not enough to show anything more, but enough to heat pool low in Rafe’s stomach. He studied your back, the curve of your neck, and the way you moved quickly yet gracefully around the kitchen while some of the sunlight kissed your skin softly. 

You finally turned around then, lip in between your teeth, a glass of iced coffee in your hand before you placed it in front of him. 

“Here.” Rafe flashed you a smile, your fingers briefly grazing each other when he took the glass. You put a slice of a perfectly golden peach pie on a separate plate, and he whistled slowly at the sight alone.

You stayed on the other side of the island, your own glass in hand, feeling the condensate cold and wet on your fingers while you stared at Rafe waitingly. He took a giant bite off the piece, groaning instantly the moment the sweetness blossomed on his tongue. 

He chewed slowly, shaking his head while his eyes bored back into yours. “This is fucking good.” He mumbled with a groan. 

“It is?” 

Rafe nodded. “I’m a sucker for homemade food, the sweet stuff especially.” Your face heated when he smiled at you sheepishly, then dove back in to finish up his piece. No one had ever appreciated your stress-baking skills in the way that Rafe did in that moment, at least for sure not in that house, and it alone pulled at something deep in your chest. “Not to be dramatic, but I would’ve died happy if someone cooked that for me.”

“Well, I’ll let you know if I make something else. I usually give it to my girlfriends or eat it myself, so…” You shrugged, and Rafe's brows shot up. 

“You serious?” He laughed, now slowly drinking his coffee, enjoying the way the icy liquid slowly cooled him down. You shrugged again, leaning forward and mimicking his own posture unconsciously, and accidentally making your cleavage even more noticeable for Rafe’s eyes. “He’s not good for shit, huh?” 

You smiled, looking down at your hands, tracing the rim of your almost untouched coffee, suddenly way too exposed under the intense blue eyes. When you didn’t answer, Rafe leaned forward again, muscles bulging through the shirt, wanting to know more, feeling like if he didn’t do something, he would miss the chance he thought he had. 

“Why stay then?” You looked back up, noting the posture and the confidence that he talked with, admitting to yourself that Rafe’s natural charm worked on you better than anything else. He was attractive; he was so effortlessly hot, and you didn’t know what to do with yourself when he was looking at you like he wanted to devour you on the spot.

“It’s… Now for me it’s a habit, you know?” You winced at your own words because, quite frankly, they sounded ridiculous and just straight-up disappointing. “Like we’re roommates who are already sick of each other. Mentally, I've been out of these relationships for months.” 

He hummed in agreement, head tilted slightly to the side and eyes narrowed in a way that made your skin tingle. “You deserve better than him, y’know? Not the way he talks to your face and behind your back. Not the way he treats you.” 

You swallowed nervously as the tension around you became even heavier. 

“Yeah. I know.”

Rafe looked at you without hesitation—not backing down, not trying to make it look friendly and polite, and not even hiding his obvious interest. Your face heated, your palms slightly sweating from nerves and from the warmth that filled your body, making you slightly switch position when the evidence of your arousal made your underwear feel uncomfortable against your skin. 

You shook your head slightly to distract yourself. “Another slice?” You changed the topic, and yet Rafe nodded to your question, you knew that pie wasn’t the thing that was on his mind. 

You didn’t know why your brain decided that you needed to walk around the island and stand near him to put another piece on the place. Or why you couldn’t just do it from a safe distance. But in a few moments you stood so close to Rafe that his thigh brushed yours through the clothes, and his face turned to yours, studying your profile, while you tried to be a good host. 

He turned on the bar stool, legs spread in a way that made you stand almost in between them. You smelled his cologne now better too, your brain becoming a mush under the influence of a man who seemingly did nothing but was turning you into a hot mess. 

You put the slice on the plate, your brain too busy with you trying to play it cool, but it all crumbled when Rafe’s fingers wrapped around your wrist—softly, but not without the usual confidence. Your spatula fell out of your hand, your face turned toward his, and then you were slowly tugged to the side until he was all you could see and feel—sitting right in front of you. 

“Tell me that I'm reading it wrong. Tell me to leave.” Rafe mumbled, his fingers slowly trailing up your arm, leaving a trail of goosebumps on its way. His head tilted, eyes searching your face for an answer. “I’ll leave.”

Your heart rate spiked up at his touch, as the calloused fingers ever so slightly traced your skin. All of the rational thoughts were thrown out of the window at that exact moment because the attraction that you’d felt for Rafe from day one was all-consuming, leaving nothing else but the pure and simple need in him. It was wrong—you knew that. But so was the relationships that you were currently in, the ones you tried to revive to many times, tried to work on to make things better and stepped over yourself again and again, when the other person didn’t seem to care at all.

Rafe’s eyes were dark with lust, with want, but they still carried that softness that made your heart flutter. He wasn’t demanding; he wasn’t pushing you into anything. Instead, he was patiently waiting for an answer, and at that moment you knew that “something better” was sitting right in front of you. 

You moved first, shocking even yourself, as you fully stepped in between Rafe’s spread thighs and kissed him softly, letting him pick up the lead from that moment on. He groaned softly, surprised, just barely smiling against your lips, before pushing off the bar stool to have you the way he wanted. His broad form was looming over you, the warmth radiating off him and the scent of his cologne enveloping you in an addictive mixture that made your thighs rub against each other again. 

One of his hands settled on your waist, fingers digging firmly into the thin fabric of your dress, while the other sprawled on the side of your face to angle you the way he needed. Rafe took control of the kiss, as it picked up the pace and intensity with every passing second—his tongue moving against yours, the occasional bites of your lower lip that made you whimper softly—made your mind go blank. 

It felt like making out with him might make you come just like that. Rafe pushed you back against the counter until it pressed into your ass, while the outline of him in expensive slacks was grinding against you from the front. Your underwear was getting wetter, the heat tugging low in your stomach when you tried to pull him closer by the collar of his shirt, your own hips moving in the same desperate way against his. 

He pulled back slowly, panting and not stopping his hands from moving all over your body. His palms gripped your ass shamelessly, then slid under the hem of your dress, tickling your skin with just fingertips. You jerked the moment his knuckles started moving up and down your covered pussy, feeling the heat and wetness covering the soft cotton. 

“Fuck, I can feel how wet you are.” Rafe mumbled, dipping his head lower to nip at the skin of your neck as his fingers pressed directly on your clit. “Is it for me, baby?” 

You nodded desperately, your head moving to the side to give him more space. “Yes. Only for you, Rafe.” He smiled against your skin, pulling away. You looked at each other much closer, both knowing that you felt the same exact pull, knowing that you both wanted the same exact thing. 

He pressed another kiss against your lips, eyes dark and heavy-lidded, before spinning you around. Your body was pushed forward until your forearms rested against the cool marble, and you stood there—trembling and shaking from arousal, waiting for him to finally soothe that ache. 

Rafe pushed the bottom of your dress up, hooking two fingers into your panties and tugging them down your legs. He helped you step out of them, hiding the soaked material in the back pocket of his pants. You kicked your legs a bit wider, a shaky breath escaping you at the feeling of the cool air against your skin, or maybe that you were suddenly exposed in front of him like that. A part of you wanted to hide, to cover yourself up from his hungry eyes, thinking that maybe Rafe was like him, but then he moaned lowly in appreciation, just barely brushing his hard-on against you.

Rafe kneaded your ass with both hands, slapping one side lightly—not enough to hurt, but enough to make your body jolt and your pussy clench desperately around nothing. 

“So pretty.” He mumbled, shaking his head before lowering down. You felt his lips against the sensitive skin of your ass cheek, leaving open-mouthed kisses once, twice, then another one a bit higher on your back. He couldn’t stop touching you, squeezing you in his rough hands like it was not enough. “God, I’ve been thinking about you all this time.”

“Please…” 

Rafe’s voice was low, rough, almost reverent as he laughed and straightened up behind you. His hands never left your skin—big palms sliding up the backs of your thighs, thumbs dragging along the sensitive crease where leg met ass, spreading you just enough to make you whimper.

“You have no idea how many times I looked at you and pretended that I didn't see you staring, that I didn't want to get my hands on you.” He murmured, one hand sliding up your spine to press softly in between your shoulder blades. “That I didn’t want to take you away from him.” 

You bit your lip hard, forehead resting on your crossed forearms. Every word sank into you like heat, making your thighs tremble. The metallic clink of the buckle followed shortly after, and you felt the anticipation making you shiver. Fabric rustled, Rafe hissed when he probably took his cock out of his slacks, then there he was—the blunt and heavy mushroom tip pressed against your folds, sliding slowly and teasing you. 

He dragged himself back and forth, making your pussy lips part for him and covering his dick in your slick. You cried helplessly when Rafe teased your entrance, another playful slap landed on your ass and was quickly soothed with Rafe’s palm. 

“Fuck, look at you.” Rafe groaned, biting down on his lip from the sight in front of him, feeling the way his cock twitched helplessly with the need for you. “So ready. So fucking pretty bent over for me.”

You pushed back instinctively, needy, and he hissed through his teeth.

“Easy, baby. I’ve got you.”

Then he pushed in. Slow at first—just the thick head breaching you—and your walls clamped down hard around him from the sudden, obscene stretch. You moaned softly, your body wanting to move away and back on him at the same time, unable to help yourself, as your nails dug into your palms, trying to even your breathing to relax your muscles to let him fully in. 

“Jesus—fuuuck, you’re so tight.” He gritted his teeth, rocking slowly, pushing inch by thick inch inside of you and looking down to see how you were taking him. 

You couldn’t speak. Your forehead was pressed against your hands, eyes squeezed tightly and mouth hanging open at the feeling of him stretching you out. Rafe pushed a bit more until his pelvis met the plush of your ass, and he was buried to the hilt. You could feel him throbbing, hot and heavy inside of you, filling you in a way that made your toes curl against the cool tiles. 

He gave you the moment to adjust, but then Rafe started moving in long, punishing strokes, beating the air out of your lungs with each movement. Your body was jolting back and forth down the slippery surface and held only by his hands, firm and possessive on your hips. Your nails were scratching uselessly, trying to reach or grip something to stop you from losing your mind when he was hitting the same spot again and again. 

You couldn’t even think, let alone say anything else, rather than an incoherent babble of his name mixed with whines. Your body was moving on its own—the way you tried to push back on his cock, chasing it the moment it slipped out and left just the tip, the way you arched your back as if it could let him get even deeper. 

Rafe was groaning behind you, letting the soft praises slip past his lips, as he fucked you the way you dreamed—hard, deep, and greedy. His hands were almost possessive on you, eyes alternating between your pretty arched back and the place where you were connecting, noticing the way you were stretched out around him, the way he slid so easily and perfectly inside. 

“Talk to me, baby.” He rasped, one hand sliding up your spine again, fingers splaying wide between your shoulder blades. “Tell me how it feels, baby. Tell me I’m hitting it right.”

“Mh—R-Rafe!” You cried, unable to speak with the way he was knocking the breath out of you. 

He grumbled, not satisfied with your answer, one hand sneaking up your back, curling gently but firmly against your neck and pulling you up. "Come here." 

Rafe enveloped you—chest pressing to your back, crisp and half-unbuttoned shirt brushing your overheated skin, one hand on your neck and another one wrapped around your waist so he could keep his steady pace. You felt his mouth at the side of your neck, gentle open-mouth kisses covering the side of your throat, then that sensitive spot behind your ear, and then your cheek. 

He kept fucking you in deep and punishing strokes, using the hand on your waist to barely move you back and forth, making your vision blur at the sides and your own hand desperately grip at his wrist. 

“I know, baby. I know.” Rafe soothed, breath hot against your cheek. “Use your words f’me.” He slowed down his pace a bit more, dragging his cock slowly in and out of your velvety walls, making you feel every vein and every twitch of him inside you. “Tell me how good you feel. How much better this is than anything he ever gave you.”

You nodded again, your head briefly falling back against his shoulder before snapping back up when you felt the hand on your neck tightening just a tiny bit. “S-so good! Rafe—Please!” 

He nodded in agreement to your words, feeling the change in your body language—the tremor in your legs, the way you started pulsating around him with every hard thrust, and the way you were clearly getting closer to finishing and could barely stand still. And, fuck, Rafe needed to see your face when he made you cum. 

Rafe manhandled you more quickly than you could process it. He pushed you slowly back down on the counter, then pulled out of your dripping heat, making you whine in the process, and rolled you back on your spine. The marble was cold against your open shoulders, making you shiver, or maybe it was the reaction to the sudden emptiness and dissatisfaction you currently felt. 

Rafe slightly hovered above you, and you would’ve lied if you said that the sight of his pretty and really flushed face didn’t make you clench harder as he pushed your legs further apart and then looked down at you spread on the table. 

“The next time I'm eating this pussy— fuuuuck, baby.” He groaned, shamelessly parting your lips and nudging his tip against you, letting your cunt naturally swallow him fully. Your mouth fell open on a long, broken moan. He bottomed out with a guttural curse, hips flush to yours, and paused—just long enough for you to feel him throb deep inside. “So fucking pretty like this.” 

He smirked, smoothing his fingers over your trembling thighs, as he started railing you again—harder and faster this time, taking his sweet time watching your face twist in pressure. One of his hands slid up your stomach, fingers hooked into the already-low neckline of your dress, and yanked it down further, making the fabric stretch and give in until your breasts spilled completely free. Rafe groaned at the sight, palms immediately cupping them, rough thumbs brushing over your nipples before pinching, rolling, and tugging until you arched into his touch with a sharp cry.

“These—” He rasped, leaning down to suck one peak into his hot mouth, tongue swirling and then softly biting. "Are fucking mine now.”

You threaded shaking fingers into his hair, tugging hard as he switched sides, leaving little marks while his hips kept snapping forward. You were clinging to him—nails raking down his shoulders through his shirt, legs locking around his waist, pulling him impossibly closer. Every stroke coiled the pressure tighter, hotter, until you were trembling on the edge again.

“Rafe—please—I’m—I’m gonna—” You gasped, feeling it start burning hot in your stomach. 

“Come for me.” He pushed back up, keeping the same exact pace, hitting that spongy spot inside of you again and again. His fingers found your clit again, rubbing fast and tight circles. “Show me how good my cock makes you feel.”

You shattered. Your back arched on the counter, a broken sob of his name filling your small and cozy kitchen, stars burst behind your eyelids, and your thighs shook violently, nails digging crescents into his skin.

And Rafe kept fucking you through this, growling low praises until his own rhythm stuttered. “That’s it. Fuck, yes—squeeze me just like that. My good girl, feel s’good—“ He buried himself deep one last time, hips flush, and came with a rough, guttural moan, letting hot spurts of his cum fill you fully, spilling out around where you were joined. Rafe gave a few shallow thrusts, brows pinched, looking at the slick covering his cock, not wanting to leave you just yet. 

The silence settled on the room; the only thing heard was the mix of your breaths and hammering hearts. You lay there, feeling sluggish, sweaty, and totally fucked out, staring up at the white ceiling and blinking slowly. 

Rafe grabbed you by your waist, sitting you up and letting you rest against his chest, a smile playing on his lips when your hands softly settled on his shoulders. He silently reached for something behind you, making your eyes widen when you heard him chewing, his free hand still softly caressing your back. 

When you turned your head, your eyes widened at the sight of him holding an already half-eaten piece of pie you had put on his plate earlier, sweet golden crust covering his lips only to be swept by his tongue. 

“Are you… eating right now?” You couldn’t help but laugh despite the slight shivers that ran through your body, looking at him with amusement. 

Rafe shrugged. “I’m greedy. I like having two good things at once.” He took a big bite again, smirking at you. “Here, open up.” 

He let you bite into the soft pastry, the peach giving you the rush of sweetness, while Rafe’s eyes were glued to your mouth, both greedy and soft. You smiled too as he ate the last piece himself, chewing slowly and pushing your upper body a bit closer to his. 

“Y’know I’m not letting you get back to him, right?” He mumbled, suddenly serious, eyes darting between yours. You held his eye contact, your hands just barely squeezing the material of his shirt under the palm of your hand, before you let yourself fall forward again, your face pressed against Rafe's neck. 

“I know.” 

The balcony doors were wide open, casting the soft yellow light from the lamps into Rafe’s room. 

He was sitting there on a blue terrace couch, staring just nowhere, after passing you without a single word. Still pissed. Had been since noon. 

He snapped at Wheezie when she said that she wanted him to take her to the store, screamed at Topper over the phone and then in person over something you couldn’t figure out, and then slammed the doors like he wanted to take them off the hinges. Even when you got the sharp edge of it—the clipped answers, the lack of any attention, and that one “not now” that sounded more like “fuck off” to you. 

So after a long shower, which didn’t seem to help calm down his nerves, he walked there silently, as if he wanted to have some time alone. Judging by the tension in his body, which you could see through the open doors, it wasn’t working. He was slumped in the corner of the couch, wearing only grey sweats, with his hands crossed over his chest and hair still wet. Lips pressed in a thin line, shoulders stiff, and jaw locked tightly.

He still radiated that bitchy energy. 

You stepped out barefoot, wearing nothing but Rafe’s old t-shirt, the one that should’ve been thrown away a long time ago, but the softness of the material and his permanent scent made you hold onto it like it was sacred. You had nothing underneath it except the tiniest scrap of blue underwear, and you slightly shivered when the night air touched your naked skin. 

You don’t say anything at first, having a moment to take Rafe in—the expression of annoyance on his face, the bulging biceps, the way his legs were kicked apart, as he still had that silent confidence. You just walked over there slowly, sitting down at the other end of the couch. Legs tucked under you sideways, back against the armrest, facing him. Watching. 

His eyes flicked towards you briefly. Once. Twice. Like he was curious but still too stubborn and mad to ask. 

“Still sulking?” You asked, just the tiniest bit of teasing heard in your voice. 

“I’m not sulking.” He bit out. “I’m fuckin’ pissed. There’s a difference.”

“Mhm.” You hummed, stretching one leg lazily against the back of the couch, your toes just barely touching his hip. Rafe's head turned again, eyes instinctively darting down to the faintest flash of blue in between your legs like he couldn’t help himself. His eyes snapped away so fast you almost wanted to laugh from how ridiculous he was. 

He shifted uncomfortably in his place, his body just barely turning towards yours, as his arms crossed even tighter. “What do you want?”

You tilted your head, sliding down just a bit more and making your shirt ride higher—not enough to reveal everything, but enough for Rafe’s eyes to look down again. 

“I want you to stop acting like a brat and deal with whatever is eating you.” 

He let out a sharp, bitter laugh that didn’t reach his eyes. “Yeah? And how the fuck do you suggest I do that, huh?”

His voice was still edged, still rough, but the way his eyes kept glancing back, without a doubt allured to the cotton that contrasted so perfectly with your skin, betrayed him fully. You could see it in the clenched jaw, in the way his fingers twitched, and in the way his cock was already hardening under the grey material. If he wanted to play it cool, he needed to control his body better than that.

You didn’t answer. You just smiled knowingly, letting your other leg move a bit more to the side, a bit wider, and the blue color peeked out again. Torturous. Just enough to make Rafe’s breath hitch. 

His arms dropped. One hand flexed against his thigh like he was fighting not to reach for you, as his body slumped back in the corner of the couch. 

“Take it out.” You said quietly, not specifying because he already knew. 

Rafe’s eyes narrowed. “You’re fucking kidding me.”

“Do I look like I’m kidding?”

His nostrils flared at the challenge in your voice, at the way you looked at him steadily and expectantly. Knowing that he will comply. 

Rafe cursed under his breath, sliding his tongue over his bottom lip like he had a sharp comment that wanted to slip out. But then his hand shoved the waistband of his sweat down just a bit, his cock slapped against his lower stomach, already hard and leaking from how long he’d been holding it all in.  

He wrapped his fist around it almost angrily, giving one stroke with a low groan, and then glaring at you as if in question.  

“Happy now?” He spat. 

“Not even close.” You said flatly. Your body slid a bit lower down the plush cushions, your foot pressed against his thigh, and your shirt was now bunched around your hipbones. You didn’t touch yourself and didn’t plan on doing so. Instead, you just gave him enough of a view to show the wet patch on the front of your underwear. “Move your hand. Slow. And look at me.”

Rafe’s nostrils flared. “You’re unbelievable.”

But his hand started moving in agonizingly slow strokes, from the base all the way to the top until his abs twitched at the prickling sensation under his skin. 

He thought you would give in. For a few long, very long, minutes his eyes were locked on yours, and he waited for you to move—to crawl forward, to get on top of him and ride him until you both couldn’t breathe, or maybe you would let him fuck you into this exact couch. Hell, even your own hand would be perfect. 

You stayed still exactly where you were. 

“Fuck—baby—”

“No touching me.” You reminded him softly. “You don’t get to touch. You get to watch. You get to jerk yourself off like a desperate little bitch because you spent all day acting like one.”

His lips parted, wanting to say something sharp back, but all you heard was a low groan. Rafe’s eyes drifted down again, hand automatically working faster over his hard cock at the sight of your covered pussy, as the sight alone made him lose his mind. 

“Eyes on me, Rafe.” You reminded, nudging his thigh. He looked up, eyes hooded and darker than before. 

“You’re unfair.” He mumbled, laughing breathlessly. 

“Me?” Your brow arched. “You could’ve had me in your bed hours ago. Could’ve dragged me into the room and had me however you wanted, Rafe. You know I would’ve let you fuck your little attitude out of your system.”

His strokes faltered for a second. 

“But you chose acting like an asshole instead.” You continued, bending your leg at the knee—and it made Rafe deprived of the little touch that he had, but you were now on full display, the wet patch on your panties growing bigger at the sight of him suddenly being so obedient. “You slammed doors, screamed, ignored me… So now? You can jerk yourself off while looking at what you could’ve had. Look how wet I am just from you being so good for me.”

Rafe groaned, a low and deep sound, as his head tipped back helplessly. Your body, your voice, and your bossiness were turning him on more than he was able to admit. The orgasm was creeping quickly and steadily, far quicker than he was planning on, making his abs tighten and thighs slightly shake from the pressure. 

“Gonna—fuck—I’m gonna come.” He rasped, forcing himself to look back at you. “Please, just—let me touch you, baby. I’ll be good, I swear—”

“No.” You shook your head once in a slow and teasing manner. “Come like this. Looking at me. Knowing you fucked up your own reward.”

Rafe’s whole body locked. His eyes rolled back and spine arched against the couch, a choked snarl ripped out of his throat as thick and hot ropes of cum splashed across his stomach and knuckles. He kept pumping through it, milking every last drop, filling the air with the wet and dirty sound of his hand working over his sensitive cock. His eyes were locked on yours while he panted almost helplessly. 

When the aftershocks passed, Rafe slumped back, body almost boneless and sluggish. His hand was still closely wrapped around him, sweat and cum covering the hot and flushed skin. Looking like an absolute, delicious mess. 

Then you crawled across the couch, slow and almost predatory, hovering above him just enough to tease. As if he wasn’t suffering enough. Rafe stared up at you—dazed and totally wrecked, but calm, without that usual storm in his pretty eyes. 

“Better?” You asked, voice gentle. 

He swallowed hard, looking down at your lips. “Yeah.”

You leaned down, your breath warm against his mouth. “Good.” You brushed the lightest kiss across the swollen lips, just enough for him to chase you when you pulled away. “Maybe next time you’ll think better before catching an attitude, yeah?”

His head nodded obediently. 

“That’s my good boy.”

And just like that, you slid off the couch and padded back inside, a small smile playing on your lips. Rafe sat there, covered in his own mess, with his brain being a mush, as he stupidly stared into the darkness of his own bedroom and thought that now, officially, he was fully under your control. 

He hooks a finger beneath the sleeve of his golf polo and rolls it a little higher on his bicep, adjusting the fabric before dragging the back of his hand across his forehead. The UV index has to be somewhere around ten and he feels every bit of it.

“The only reason I’m out here is because she said it’d be good for me.”

Topper snorts and Kelce’s chip barely makes it out of the sandpit.

“And you’ve been thinkin’ about leaving since hole one,” Topper chuckles, shaking his head.

“Hole one? That’s insulting,” Rafe breathes.

“Sorry, hole four—”

“Parking lot,” Rafe cuts him off. “I was thinkin’ that since the parking lot, Top.”

But even that’s a lie. He was thinking that the moment that he watched you wave to him over your shoulder before you stepped outside—that little string bikini peeking out of the top of your shorts, tormenting him beyond belief.

Ever since then he’s been crossing holes off in his head like an advent calendar from his own personal hell.

“He’s not even listening,” Kelce teases.

Rafe looks over at him, blinking slowly a few times with his lips pursed and his hands resting on his hips.

“‘Course I’m not.”

“Unbelievable,” Topper sighs. “I was just telling Kelce we could do another eighteen holes—”

Rafe can’t even contain his disgust—wincing, brows pinched tight, nostrils flared with a side eye dripping with judgment.

“We’re not inviting you, Cameron. Calm the fuck down,” he blurts.

Ding! Rafe’s hand moves, diving for his pocket like someone challenged him to a goddamn duel.

Kelce drops the head of his putter against the grass, shaking his head judgmentally. Rafe rolls his eyes, unlocking his phone without a shred of shame.

“You’ve got a problem,” Topper says.

“A legitimate fucking problem,” Kelce adds.

“I can’t help that neither of you like your wives,” Rafe mutters and both of their mouths hang open in disgust. “Whatever,” he says, sounding so genuinely unbothered. ‘Cause he is.

Then he looks down at the screen and suddenly nothing else matters.

You’re stretched out across one of the lounge chairs beside the pool with a book propped open. The afternoon sun reflects off your skin. The book covers half your face, but that isn’t helping him concentrate because the rest of you is impossible to miss—the soft swells of your breasts pressed against the pool chair, the curve of your ass, just a taste of your thighs. Your feet are crossed, the little anklet he bought you glittering in the North Carolina sun.

“Look at him,” Topper says, nudging Kelce with his elbow.

“Not a single thought in that head,” Kelce adds as he steps forward and rests his putter behind the ball, taking his time while he studies the break.

The green goes quiet for a second while everybody waits for him to hit it. Before he can even pull the putter back, Rafe steps directly into his line and sinks his putt without hesitation.

Topper starts barking out a laugh and Kelce stares at him in complete disbelief as his ball rolls toward the hole. “You are such a prick,” Kelce says.

“We’re done.”

“We are absolutely not done.”

“This feels done,” Rafe answers, bending down to grab his ball, starting toward the flag before the argument is even over, Kelce’s ball still rolling toward the cup.

“You’re unbelievable, Cameron—”

Rafe cuts off Kelce’s critique, kicking the ball, sending it careening away. “It was gonna hook left anyway,” Rafe says over his shoulder, digging his keys out of his pocket, heading toward the parking lot as the two bitch behind him. “You two suck at golf, by the way,” Rafe calls back.

“Fuck you, Rafe,” Kelce laughs weakly, walking toward his ball.

“Short game’s terrible.”

“Rafe!” Topper calls but he flicks him off in response.

“Don’t even get me started on you, Top. You read greens like an eighty-year-old man with cataracts, fucking useless.”

“Jesus Christ,” Topper gasps.

Rafe doesn’t even bother organizing his clubs when he reaches the parking lot. He yanks them out of the cart, tosses the entire bag into the trunk with absolutely no regard for the thousands of dollars’ worth of equipment inside.

He jogs around the side of the car, yanks the driver’s door open, and practically falls into the seat before firing the engine to life.

Gravel spits behind him as he throws the car into reverse, backing out of the spot in one smooth movement before shifting into drive.

The second he hits the main road, he grabs his phone and calls. His thumbs drum against the steering wheel as the summer wind whips through the car, his pulse hammering, still racing from that power walk to his car.

“Hey, baby,” your voice fills his car and he softens in his seat, hands wrapping a little tighter around the wheel as he smiles.

“Hey pretty,” he hums.

His voice is softer now, gravelly from talking all day and sweeter than it has any right to be considering the way he’d been speaking to Topper and Kelce five minutes ago.

If you’d been standing on that green listening to him threaten both of them, you’d absolutely have something to say about it. He already knows exactly what you’d tell him too. Be nice. Stop being grumpy. They’re your friends. The problem is that he doesn’t care about any of that right now.

“Where are you?” You ask curiously, and he can hear in your voice that you know he dipped out of there sooner than he should have.

“Just left.”

“You just left?” You giggle.

“Mhmm...” Your voice comes through the speakers and instantly makes him feel better than the entire golf outing did.

Traffic slows for a red light and the drumming starts again as he waits for it to change.

“You weren’t gonna get a drink or something?” You ask. “Relax?”

“Absolutely not.”

The answer comes so fast that you start laughing again. The corner of his mouth twitches as he shifts in his seat. “They were stayin’ to practice puttin’, baby.”

“Really?” You ask, not convinced in the slightest.

“Yeah. Their—uhhh… Their short games suck.”

“Gotcha.”

“I’m serious.”

“I’m sure you are.”

“They’re fuckin’ terrible, baby. That was a long-ass day,” he grumbles and you giggle. He leans back against the headrest as he lets the moment breathe for a minute. “Kids been easy on you today?”

“Actually, yeah.”

“Yeah?”

“Just laying by the pool,” you say.

“Sounds rough.”

“Fuckin’ terrible, baby,” you echo his words back to him and he smiles. “They’re actually at Wheezie’s.”

The car accelerates, completely subconscious on his part, but you hear it loud and clear. Rafe’s eyes flick briefly toward the speedometer while a grin starts pulling at the corner of his mouth. “Oh yeah?”

“Rafe Cameron, slow down.”

The grin only gets worse, sinking a little lower in the driver’s seat, as one hand falls to the shift stick.

“I’m goin’ slow, baby.”

“You are not,” you answer. “You accelerated the second I said the kids weren’t home.”

“Did I?” You can practically hear the grin in his voice now as he weaves through traffic. “So.”

You start laughing, knowing exactly where he’s going to go with this. “Winnie’s in Charleston with Jackson.”

“Got it. And Max?” He asks eagerly.

“He left like an hour ago.”

“On the boat?” He asks, knowing that’s an all-day affair.

“Mhmm…”

Rafe’s laugh rumbles through the phone. “Interesting,” he says.

“Interesting?” You laugh and sigh sweetly.

“Sounds like I get you to myself all day?”

“Sounds like it.”

By the time he turns into the neighborhood, he’s grinning so hard his cheeks hurt. The gates open and he barely slows down as he pulls through them, already spotting flashes of blue water between the houses.

“You’re almost here, aren’t you?”

“Absolutely,” he hums. “See you outside, baby.”

The second he turns into the driveway, the car barely has time to rest before he’s throwing it into park, killing the engine.

The garage door rumbles overhead and he doesn’t wait, ducking underneath it before it can open all the way. His shirt’s halfway over his head before he even reaches the mudroom. By the time he steps inside, he’s carrying the polo in one hand, snagging his swim trunks from the laundry room with the other.

He stumbles slightly, kicking off his golf shoes without ever breaking stride. Future Rafe can deal with that problem. Present Rafe has more important things to do.

His golf shorts are already undone by the time he reaches the hallway. He steps out of them, steps into the swim trunks, and keeps walking without stopping once to grab his hat, tugging it on before he flicks it to the back.

Now he’s finally home and the only thing he cares about is the backyard door sitting at the end of the room. He reaches it a few seconds later and quickly slows down, dragging the glass door open.

And that last bit of tension breezes out of him, because there you are.

You’re curled up in a chair with a book open in your hands, completely unaware that he’s standing there.

He admires you for a moment—one leg crossed over the other while sunlight dances across the pool behind you. He soaks in the scene he’d spent eighteen holes waiting to get home to.

Then a sharp whistle rips through his lips.

Your head lifts at the sound.

The book lowers into your lap and a smile breaks across your face so fast it makes something in his chest tighten.

You start to uncross your legs, already leaning forward like you’re about to stand, but he points at you.

“Nah, baby,” he says. “Stay right there. I’m comin’.”

You laugh under your breath and fall back against the chair.

The cushions dip beneath his weight as he climbs on top of you. One hand braces against the armrest while the other finds your thigh, his broad palm sliding higher as he guides you closer.

“Miss me?” He asks. Rafe’s smile tugs a little wider when you whisper yes, his thumb brushing absentmindedly against your thigh.

He slides a hand along your side, guiding you onto his lap as one arm wraps around your waist, pulling you tight against his chest while the other lifts to cup your cheek.

“Goddamn, I missed you. Don’t make me do that shit again,” he mutters, shaking his head once before leaning back enough to look at you properly. “M’not home enough for that.”

“Okay, baby,” you laugh.

“I mean it.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Don’t try to charm me after that, pretty. That was hell.” He leans in first this time, forehead brushing yours for a second before his lips find yours. “I love you,” he murmurs.

Your hand presses against his chest, nails scratching lightly down sun-warmed skin. He pushes the cup of your bikini to the side, wrapping his lips around your skin while his other hand drifts between your thighs.

“Out here?” You ask with a laugh.

“We’re all alone, baby. Why not?” His lips brush yours again before trailing along your jaw. “We can go inside too—”

“Right here,” you whisper.

“That’s what I thought,” he hums. “Who’s my girl, huh?”

You smile, fingers hooking beneath the waistband of his swim trunks. “I’m your girl.”

“Mhmm.” His thumb drifts along your collarbones to your shoulders, nudging one strap down before the other. “You’re my fuckin’ girl.” The words come out rough enough to pull a smile from you.

You reach up and untie the small bow holding your swimsuit top together. The fabric slips loose between you.

Rafe’s eyes drop as you toss it away. “Jesus Christ, baby.” A low groan slips out of him as he tips his forehead against yours for a second, hands lifting to squeeze your tits in his big palms as his mouth finds yours again.

You glance down briefly, catching his swim trunks sitting low on his hips from where you’d been tugging at them, bunched slightly against his muscular thighs, the fabric stretched tight across them.

“Take these off,” you whisper, the words barely leaving your lips before he slides down in his seat, tugging down his shorts with him, his heavy cock smacking against his toned stomach with a snap, his eyes locked on your body.

His hands squeeze your hips, digging in as he drags your clothed pussy on top of him, head pressing back into the chair. The sun beats down on your skin. A thin line of sweat catching his chain before it rolls in a lazy train down his chest.

“They said I got a problem,” he mumbles through a smirk, his jaw tightening as you keep moving against him, the heat of your body bleeding through the fabric of your swimsuit, finally snapping whatever patience he had left.

“Yeah, baby?”

“You see any problems here?” He asks breathlessly as he reaches for the bows at your hip, tugging them free, yanking away the rest of the fabric in a hurry as his hands close around you again.

He blows out a breath like he’s finally gotten rid of the last thing standing between him and what he wants, his hand diving between your thighs.

His fingers press inside and he gasps, working you with his hand as you rest on his chest, feeling his heart bang underneath, his muscles flexing with each push of his hand.

“Just jealous they don’t have a woman like you?” He hums as he pulls his hand away just long enough to drag you in.

Rafe’s lidded eyes connect with yours, lips falling open with his as he pulls you down on him. You grip his shoulders, hands trembling as a deep groan thunders in his chest, feeling your wetness wrap around him tight.

“Fuck, me,” he mutters under his breath, dragging you closer, smiling against your lips before capturing your mouth in a tender kiss.

“Oh my god,” you whine.

“Pussy’s so perfect.”

His eyes lift to yours in a lust-ridden daze, muscles flexing as he works you over on his length. You bounce on his lap, wet slaps of sweat and slick filling with air around you mixing with your soft whimpers and his deep groans.

You grip the arm rests, circling your hips and he throws his head against the back of the chair to get a better look, his eyes drifting between your face and the bounce of your tits, falling to his lap where your pussy swallows him up each time you sink down.

His legs spread a little wider, feet resting on the ground, hips pitching to fuck up into your soaked hole. Your head throws back as you rise on your knees, letting him hit that perfect spot, the knot in your belly tightening, your body impossibly hot.

“Rafe,” you moan.

“Yeah?” He asks, and you can hear the satisfaction in his voice. “Been playin’ this shit over and over in my mind, pretty. Let me have it.”

You cry out as he pounds your pussy with his thick dick. Your thighs tremble uncontrollably, as your pussy flutters around him. He looks up at you in a haze, lips parted, brows softening as your release wets his lap and thighs.

“Oh shit, that's my girl… That’s my baby,” he praises, making you gasp when he rolls you onto your back, not giving you a moment to breathe before he’s on you again.

He looks down at you with a smile, adjusting his hat, staring at the wet mess between your thighs. “Why the fuck would I ever wanna leave you, huh?” He asks as he pushes your legs against your chest, hooking your ankles over his broad shoulders.

You whimper out a little breath as he taps his cock against your pussy, muscles jumping with each slap.

He pushes in slow, tilting closer to get as far as he can go, pressing a deep kiss to your trembling lips. “Gonna cum in your pussy,” he whispers, his voice breaking with pleasure. “M’so, so fuckin’ close.”

His face turns slightly, pressing a kiss to your ankle, right against the charm. His ab muscles clench as he rolls his lips, sweat sliding down his temple.

“I’m so deep,” he mumbles. You nod quickly, lip bitten between your teeth, hands gripping the arm rests tight.

“So fucking deep,” you whisper.

“Yeah?” He asks breathlessly. “Fuck me.”

He loses his rhythm, thrusts growing uneven as he snaps against your skin. His muscles quake, shoulders trembling, slamming into you in one heavy thrust.

His eyes pinch shut, head falling forward, cumming deep inside you with your name on his lips.

He lets your legs go but he doesn’t let you get far, snuggling into you again, kissing your forehead—then your nose and your lips.

“Goddamn,” he mumbles, lingering while your breathing slows together.

He sits down next to you, dragging you close, kissing you as he grabs your thigh, tugging it over the top of him—close not close enough.

“This,” he huffs out a deep breath through a smile, relaxing into the lounge chair. “This is what’s good for me.”

“Yeah?” You giggle, tilting your chin up for a kiss that he gladly steals. You rest your head on his shoulder, the warm summer breeze blowing against your skin, the soft music that you had playing while you were reading filling the space in between.

“You sent that picture to me on purpose,” he breathes.

A smile stretches on his lips when you don’t answer right away, the corner of his eyes crinkling as he smiles.

“Holy shit, you did? Didn’t you?” He asks, tilting his neck to look you in the eyes and you shrug and smile.

“Thought it would get you home quicker.”

His hand comes down heavy on your thigh as he dips in, brushing his nose against yours, chuckling deeply against your lips before he kisses you.

“That’s my girl.”

bsf!rafe who gets that quiet, irritated look when people ask if you’re his girlfriend, “nah, just my best friend” but something about it never sits right with him anymore.

bsf!rafe who almost lost it on topper for talking about you like that, stepping in before he could even finish his sentence. “watch your fucking mouth.” he tells topper, inches away from his face, making topper fall back, with his hands up

bsf!rafe who can’t stand seeing you with other guys, and acts off the second you mention a date, going quieter, shorter with his words. “he good enough for you?” but doesn’t know what to call the feeling, he just knows it makes his chest tighten and his mood flip instantly.

bsf!rafe who knows that if he calls, you’ll come, no matter where you are, no matter who you’re with, and there’s something about that that both comforts him and absolutely messes with his head.

bsf!rafe who leans a little too close sometimes, lets his hand linger a second too long, says things that toe the line, but doesn’t want to ruin what you have, but at the same time, the idea of someone else having you? yeah, no that’s not something he can ignore much longer.

bsf!rafe who has a spare key to your place, so he doesn’t knock when he comes over, he just walks in like it’s his place, calling your name until he finds you.

bsf!rafe who has a spot in your room that’s basically his at this point, so whenever you’re with other friends in your apartment they know not to touch or be in ‘rafes spot’

bsf!rafe who steals your food without asking but will absolutely buy you whatever you want five minutes later.

bsf!rafe who will call you for the silliest things like what shirt he should wear or what he should eat, because your opinion just matters the most.

bsf!rafe who lets you mess with his hair, his rings, his watch collection. stuff he wouldn’t let anyone else touch without a second thought.

bsf!rafe who has inside jokes with you that literally no one else understands, and the two of you will be laughing while everyone else is confused.

bsf!rafe who lets you wear his hoodies and never asks for them back knowing you look better in them anyway, even though he’ll complain about it every time. “you’ve got like five of ‘em.”

bsf!rafe who texts you “you busy?” but not for anything serious, just because he’s bored and wants to annoy you. 

bsf!rafe who will defend you instantly, no hesitation, even if he doesn’t fully know what’s going on yet.

bsf!rafe who will absolutely argue with you over the dumbest things, then be over it five minutes later like nothing happened.

bsf!rafe who trusts you with things he doesn’t tell anyone else, even when he doesn’t say it out loud.

bsf!rafe who keeps a photobooth picture of you and him in his wallet that you put in there as a joke one night. and he refuses to take it out because, ‘that’s his girl’ 

bsf!rafe who will sit through things he absolutely hates just because you like them, movies, shopping, whatever, complaining the whole time but never actually thinking of leaving. but when it comes to the victoria secret runs, oh how he wishes he could be in the dressing room with you. 

bsf!rafe who has a different tone when he talks to you compared to everyone else. It’s softer and less guarded, even if he doesn’t realize it.

bsf!rafe who started calling you “princess” as a joke because you were such a spoiled brat, always getting your way, always a little dramatic, but then it just stuck.

bsf!rafe who says it so casually now, like it’s second nature. “relax, princess,” “c’mon, princess,” but there’s never any real malice behind it.

bsf!rafe who lowkey enables it too, even while teasing you about it, rolling his eyes as he hands you what you want anyway. “for the spoiled princess.”

bsf!rafe who’s the only one who can get away with calling you that without it sounding condescending, because coming from him it just feels familiar, and yours.

bsf!rafe who’ll mumble “such a princess” under his breath when you complain about something minor, but there’s a small smirk on his face every time. but would absolutely get angry if anyone else tried to call you that, though. that’s his thing.

bsf!rafe who notices you don’t correct him, and honestly don’t even react to it half the time, and something about that makes him say it more. and he’ll say it when you’re upset too, quieter like, “hey… don’t do that, princess,” like it’s his way of grounding you without making it too sentimental.

bsf!rafe who in the end, doesn’t even realize when it started, the way he looks at you, the way he needs you, the way he’s always thinking about you every time, but somewhere along the way, you stopped being just his best friend.