The house is oddly silent - too quiet, as it’s making Joel’s skin crawl, a restlessness that’s hard to cope with early in the morning, not used to being alone anymore. The radio chases some of it away while he has coffee and a sandwich, but somehow the living room feels like a loaded space to walk into, the stack of rental videos staring at him accusatory. It’s ridiculous, he tells himself, as he takes the dreaded tape out of his VCR and shoves it back in the white, unlabelled case, ready to return all of the video tapes - but it’s barely 7 in the morning. 

It’s an instinctual response that makes him put the tapes in his bedroom, as if anyone would randomly walk into his house and start going through the stack of them, let alone play them. Before he can contemplate for too long whether that makes him paranoid, he’s saved by the phone.

“Hey, it’s me. Listen…” 

Tommy.

Something tightens in his chest, making it hard to breathe momentarily, and he’s unable to focus on whatever his brother is saying. “Is Sarah okay?”, he interrupts him gruffly, ready to grab his keys and jump in his truck, but Tommy’s affirming response makes him take a beat and relax - just a little. 

“Fuck. D’you know how early it is?” He tries not to snap too much as he reaches for the pill bottles on his dresser, taking a tablet out of each of them. Prilosec, Buspirone, Amlodipine- the trinity. He still doesn’t like the thought of needing to take them daily, but at least the past half year has demonstrated that they do work. Although there isn’t enough anti-anxiety medication these days to deal with calls like this about the ongoing projects, particularly when it comes to the Johnsons.

He talks Tommy through instructions to replace the missing shipment of materials, fighting the urge to take over as he normally tends to do, because he’s tired. It’s the kind of weariness that settles in your bones, much harder to get rid of than any physical fatigue. It’s a relief when he hears Maria in the background, saying something to Tommy about taking Sarah to her friend’s hair salon, and to ‘leave your brother be for the weekend, he needs the time off’ - and he’s not sure which one of those two things he’s most grateful for.

Time off rarely meant doing nothing, and today was no exception. Between overdue maintenance on the house, laundry - the endless piles from a teenager never ceased to amaze him - and running errands, it was well into the evening until he finally got to sit down. 

With the groceries put off until tomorrow, dinner is a quick sandwich while he thumbs through his notepad, marking off what he’s gotten done.

- return video rentals

He stares at the note, then checks his watch, groaning when he sees how late it is. There still is just enough time before closing if he leaves now in a hurry, but the thought of going out just to return the tapes feels almost silly. Tomorrow is fine, he tells himself; it’s not like Sarah can come across them now. Besides, he still has to rewind that tape.

Thinking about the VHS makes his skin crawl, the same way it did throughout the day whenever those images would cross his mind again. It’s not even that he’s bothered by how carried away he got last night; it’s the intensity of it that still has him reeling. Particularly when spending time in Tess’ bed did nothing to chase that urge away, nor did a good night’s rest. Most of all, it felt like he didn’t have time to think about this. Not when Sarah would be back home tomorrow night, and the routine of Sunday nights would drag him right into the upcoming week and all the responsibilities waiting for him, often so overwhelming that he’d find himself reaching for an extra dose of anxiety tablets to keep going.

Not yet though. Not tonight.

Have another sandwich.

As he pulls some fixings out of the fridge, he searches for a beer before he remembers he finished those last night. A pang of annoyance hits along with that thought, as the urge for something to take the edge off is stronger than he likes to admit. After searching through the upper cabinets in the kitchen, he comes across a bottle of Jim Beam stashed away - out of reach from Sarah, and out of sight of Tommy, because some things just never fuckin’ change.  

Turns out, bourbon goes down real easy with a turkey sandwich after a busy day. A part of him is ready to zonk out for the night, but that low current of electricity is still running under his skin. Clicking through channels is not much of a help; nothing is interesting enough to catch his attention, and the news outlets keep going on about the invasion in Iraq. It’s not that he doesn’t care, but the visuals and running commentary get to him too much. All it makes him think about is when Tommy was sent overseas - and the risk of that happening again, gone for god knows how long. The endless waiting for that weekly call from Tommy, because it’s the only way Joel could be reassured he was still alive.

By the time Joel finishes his third glass of bourbon, he feels a lot better. His skin seems to fit him better again, and the rising tension from earlier has subsided at last. He grabs the bottle of bourbon as he makes the rounds to turn off the lights, then makes his way upstairs, eager for the soothing heat of a shower. The steam and water help him mellow out some more as he washes his hair, and by the time he’s soaping his body with the shower gel, he’s half hard and eager for some more specific touch. 

He groans as he lazily pumps his fist around his cock, leaning his head back against the shower wall as he closes his eyes. It doesn’t surprise him that his mind wanders off to the video again, mentally replaying the scene where Younger Guy gets his ass eaten. He hesitates for a moment, but his horniness and the alcohol in his bloodstream get the best of him, making his brain feel even more fuzzy as he reaches back to touch himself. Not all that new, he realizes now, as his fingers move instinctively, because there have been more than a few nights in the past with Tess - both of them tangled up in her bedsheets for the evening or a weekend, her body hot and sweaty against him. 

He can almost taste her pussy on his lips again, and how she’d gush over his fingers or tongue after several orgasms. The breathless way she’d say his name, hoarse and wrung out, practically urging him to stop, even though her body remained so damn responsive. He enjoyed playing with her like that, seeing how swollen she was for him, her clit so sensitive that he could see it throb whenever he’d blow cool air on her. 

“Joel, I can’t,” her words slurred together, but he could never turn away from that sight. Especially not when he’d see more slick drip out of her, gleaming in the dim light of the bedroom, as it’d spill down over her asshole. He ran his thumb through it, spreading it over her tight rim, and heard her gasp - saw how needily her hips pushed up towards him, now in a different way than before. It didn’t take much to figure out what she liked, how easily she took one finger and more once that muscle relaxed, and how dizzy with desire it’d made him to feel her heat when she’d clamp down on his fingers, crying out his name as he fingerfucked her like that while eating her out. 

In that same way, it takes Joel very little effort to find out what it is he likes. That same heat flaring in his belly as he runs his finger over his asshole, exploring tentatively at first, his other hand still wrapped tightly around his cock. But soon that grip loosened considerably, his attention now focused on the slight pressure of his finger tip slipping inside, and - oh. Oh, fuck. He bites his lip hard, trying to control his breathing that has suddenly sped up, and for a moment it overwhelms him. Even without touching his dick, he can see it jerk in response to the new sensation, and all he can think about is that he needs more. 

The second time his finger slips in easier, spit serving as an improvised compromise for lube. He’s able to manage his breathing slightly better now, flashbacks haunting him of how he’d urged Tess to relax into the feeling. The heat in his lower belly is rapidly growing, and when his mind flits back to that fuckin’ tape, the response from his body is so instant and eager that it nearly makes him dizzy. The vague thought he had a moment earlier - that maybe Tess would be up for slipping him a finger - is gone now, his heart feeling like it’s going to hammer out of his chest as he pictures Boss Guy’s dick pushing into Younger Guy’s hole, and the loud moans coming from both of them. When did ‘being filled’ suddenly end up so high on his list - all because of one damn VHS? 

“Fuck.” He grits his teeth as his legs feel unsteady, then manages to turn around and rest his forehead against the wet shower wall, feeling the warm water beating down on him. Somehow maintaining his balance is easier this way, and slowly he feels the tension in his shoulders creep away, just like the previously tense muscles in his legs. It feels like there’s more room now behind him to continue what he’s doing, somehow the position being easier on his arm too. The angle is still awkward though, but that last bit of practical thought is quickly chased away as he takes his dick in his spare hand, letting the sensation drown out the rational parts of his brain.

Not so much the other thoughts, though.

The look on Younger Guy’s face, pleasure with just an occasional hint of pain as Boss Guy fucks him hard. The way the camera pans away from his face after a little bit, showing how he’s leaking on the ground, then the view of Boss Guy’s hands grabbing onto the younger man’s meaty thighs. A close of Boss’ cock - fuck, oh, FUCK -, thick and flushed with an angry red color, as he’s pounding the younger guy’s round ass like there’s no tomorrow. Heavy balls slapping against those cheeks, the dark thick pubes damp with sweat and other fluids. It makes Joel wonder how it would feel, to have that guy’s hand resting on the back of his shoulders or neck. Holding on to steady him, or that thick arm around his waist as he-…

The sensation hits him hard when his finger thrusts deeper inside than planned, and for a second he feels like he’s going to black out. The heat in his lower belly combusts in a way he hasn’t experienced before, zapping shockwaves through his body and up to his brain. He cries out in pleasure, a howl he almost doesn’t recognize as his own, but he curves his finger once more to push against that spot inside, which is way more sensitive than he had ever even considered before. Again and again and- oh, FUCK.

His hips jolt as the repeated stimulus quickly becomes too much, way too much and too quickly - pushing against the edge of pain in a way that feels both surprisingly good and like he’s going to pass out. With effort he regains the sense of mind to slip his finger out, resting his forehead against the wall as he pants heavily, almost unable to catch his breath. He expects to see his release painted all over the tiles, but instead there’s nothing but drops of water rolling down the wall. His cock is still rock hard, too, a fat bead of precum welling at the tip, and for a moment Joel’s brain is too scrambled to figure out what’s going on.

He turns off the water as he stumbles out of the shower, automatically reaching for a towel before he pauses, then re-routes to the handsoap for a quick wash.

Too much. He drank too much, probably, then got horny and… somewhat carried away. But he wants more - another drink to make his head buzz as much as his body is doing right now. Something to match that feeling in his lower belly, until that is the only thing that drowns out his thoughts and makes it feel like he doesn’t even have to think about anything anymore.

He pours himself another glass, savoring the smokey warmth of the whiskey when it hits his tastebuds again, and this time he doesn’t think - or hesitate - as he pushes the VHS tape into the VCR, then turns the tv on.  

Nobody knows.

On screen, Younger Guy has Boss Guy’s dick down his throat.

Fuck- it’s really the whole damn thing.

There should be lube in his nightstand, he remembers finally. But what he finds in addition to that bottle while searching the back of the drawer is about the last thing he expects. Brightly colored silicone, of which he has no memory, but must have been Tess’ at some point. 

There’s no way the battery on this thing still works.

On screen, Younger Guy’s mouth is slick with precum when he pulls back - his lips ruddy and beautifully bruised as he gazes up at Boss Guy. Joel knows there’s some kind of dialogue happening, but the words aren’t registering with him. All he hears in that moment is the silicone buzzing in his hand when he presses the innocuous looking button.

Shit. Is he really going to do this?

The rest of his bourbon burns while going down as he swallows it - the ol’ cliche liquid courage that makes him feel like he’s fuckin’ nineteen and trying to talk himself into something. The visuals and sounds coming from the tv help to distract him just enough to not think too closely about how his hand shakes slightly, or the loud squirting noise from the lube.

“Please, fuck me,” Younger Guy gasps on screen as Boss Guy pushes him down, manhandling him on his knees and into the position he wants. Joel’s eyes fall shut as he feels the pressure against his asshole again, definitely not just his finger anymore, and his hips buck up as the vibrations rock his lower body more intensively than he was expecting.

Goddamnit, that feels really fucking good. Wait. Easy. You can’t have that thing on and then…

Minutes later, the lubed toy is inside of him and Joel is so far gone that he can hardly think anymore. Stroking his leaking dick with one hand, feeling painfully hard at this point, he switches the device back on with his other hand. The rush hits him immediately, making him gasp as it rocks through his entire body, and he comes so much harder than he expected - spilling all over himself and the sheets, as it feels like his heart is going to hammer right out of his chest.

The moment he catches his breath, he fumbles to turn that damn thing off, which is anything but easy. It’s not just that he feels wrecked, but he can tell how dangerously fast it’s trying to push him beyond the boundaries of what’s comfortable - and the last thing he needs is for this to go wrong or have him end up in the ER like some TLC show.

Well. You actually went there, huh Miller?

It feels like he has no brain left - at this point, it seems pretty plausible that it must’ve melted and leaked right out of his ears. The vibe ends up wrapped into a bunch of tissues and pushed somewhere into the back of his nightstand, and he lazily grabs a nearby shirt to use as a cumrag as he wipes himself down. He’s already half asleep as he watches the rest of the scene play out on his tv, but by the time Younger Guy and Boss Guy are being replaced by another onscreen couple, Joel is out cold. 

He doesn’t hear his cellphone buzz, or the voicemail that Tommy leaves for him. 

Javier sits hunched over the wooden desk in his dimly lit office. Files and case notes are scattered everywhere, stacks of paper threatening to avalanche off the edges, the smell of cigarette smoke perfuming the air.

His eyes burn from hours of staring at the same documents, working overtime to give the rest of his team a well deserved break.

Then his phone chimes with a new notification… and another one… then another one. The insistency has him reaching for the device with furrowed brows, cigarette dangling from between his lips.

YOU: i got something to show u YOU: come over ;) YOU: [Attachment: 2 Images]

He stares at the lock screen, blowing out a plume of smoke. His thumb hovers for half a second before he opens the text thread.

The first photo hooks into his gut and reels him right in.

Your reflection is captured in what looks like a domed, polished silver platter. It’s shameless, really, your ass pushed out perfectly in black panties, the curve full and inviting, thin fabric disappearing between your soft cheeks. One hand is stabilizing you against the cart the platter sits on while the other holds the phone. 

Javier sucks in a sharp breath through his teeth, eyes devouring every detail. 

He can already picture it. You on all fours, looking back at him with that challenging smirk as he grips your hips and buries himself deep in that tight, dripping pussy. And the sounds you’d make—Jesus Christ, Javi swears he hears your sweet, filthy moans echoing around in his head constantly, torturing him. 

He flicks the built-up ash into the glass tray with a tap then swipes to the second photo.

Your silhouette is reflected in the window of your bathroom, city lights glittering before you. He knows how much you love showing yourself off—so he wouldn’t be surprised if you had captured the attention of anyone walking along the street below.

He’d definitely stop if he saw you posing in front of the window naked.

The curve of your body is alluring. His eyes immediately drop to your bare thighs and how the teasing angle of the photo keeps your breasts covered.

Another fantasy swirls around in his mind, this time it’s of fucking you against the large window, the whole damn city an audience to the carnal debauchery that exists between you. 

He’s hard and aching to be inside of you. His fingers move across the screen as he sends you a curt response:

JAVIER: Be there in 20 minutes. 

The door is already unlocked when Javier arrives. He pushes it open and steps into the familiar chaos of the lower floor of your apartment, the space still a glamourous mess just as how he’d remembered it from the night of your birthday.

The main lights are off, leaving only the glow of a feathery floor lamp in the corner of the open space and the warm amber LED strips lining the loft area above.

Javier calls out your name, his deep voice carrying easily over the music playing through the speakers upstairs as he closes the door behind him.

“I’m upstairs.”

He hasn’t seen the loft level yet, but if the downstairs is any indication, he expects the same colorful chaos.

He climbs the stairs slowly, taking in the provocative framed photos of you hung against the leopard-print wallpaper, your body captured in differing sexy poses.

He’s never met anyone as unapologetically authentic as you are.

When he reaches the top, he stops for a second, taking it all in.

You’ve turned the entire top floor into your own private dance studio. One entire wall is lined with floor-to-ceiling mirrors, reflecting every angle of the space.

Your chrome pole stands in the center. The other walls are lined with your impressive collection of Pleasers in every color and style, displayed like trophies.

You’re stretching in front of the mirror wall in a perfect split, hair pulled into a high ponytail, wearing a cropped Baby Phat tracksuit with booty shorts that show your ass off just right and matching pink leg warmers. The basic dancer heels on your feet complete the look.

“This is impressive,” Javier says, hands sliding into the pockets of his dress pants. He didn’t bother stopping at his place to change—he came straight from the office, jacket left in the car, shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows, tie loose around his neck.

You catch his reflection in the mirror and bite your lower lip, eyes twinkling with that familiar lustful spark.

“Thanks,” you purr.

Javier watches, transfixed, as you rise gracefully from the split, the added sway in your hips from the heels making every step seductive.

You walk straight to him, locking your arms around his neck and batting your full lash clusters up at him with a knowing smile.

“Long day?” you ask innocently, body pressing flush against his.

He instinctively wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you tighter against him, his other hand dropping to grab a generous handful of your ass, squeezing possessively.

“The longest,” he mutters hoarsely. His fingers knead the soft flesh, already imagining how it would feel bouncing against his thighs. “What do you have to show me?”

You flash him a flirty smirk and lean up to kiss his chin, lips brushing against the stubble there. “Come sit.”

You unwrap yourself from him, taking his hand and guiding him over to the chair you’ve placed in the perfect spot. Javier gives you a skeptical yet amused look, but sits anyway, spreading his thighs wide in that casual, masculine way that always makes your stomach flutter.

“What now?” 

“You ask sooo many questions all the time,” you tease, circling him slowly like he’s your prey. “It’s annoying.”

He scoffs, leaning back in the chair, one hand resting on his thigh, his silver watch glinting.

“Yvonne mixed me a tape for my new set,” you continue, walking over to your CD player. “I figured since I have you at my disposal, you’d be the perfect person to practice it on.”

Javier’s brows raise slightly. He knew better than to expect you to summon him here for an intel related meeting. Not that he’s complaining. God, never that.

“How lucky am I?” he murmurs, watching as you pop in the disc and adjust the lighting with a tap on your phone. The room dims to match the sensual mood. 

“Very,” you reply with a wink, pressing play.

The song begins and you move toward the pole in the center, hips moving with finesse, the heels clicking against the sleek hardwood floor.

Javier leans forward slightly, elbows on his knees, eyes locked on you like a man watching his favorite sin unravel.

The hypnotic beat of the music blends seamlessly and most definitely adds to the attraction. Your vibe for the entire set is to give off more siren energy—as opposed to your usual lively and upbeat routines.

You swirl your hips at the right time and dance provocatively, showing off your flexibility in the sexiest way. You spin around the pole in different positions and tricks that speak to how naturally talented you are.

The only good thing your mother ever did was force you into doing gymnastics as a little girl, then cheer in high school. It really set the groundwork for your skills today.

The colored lights shift and bleed across your dancing figure in hypnotic waves, turning the entire top floor into a private stage just for him as you grip the pole tightly between your thighs, hanging upside down, blowing a kiss to him.

Javier feels the same pull he felt that first night at Ace. When you stepped onto the stage in that cowgirl outfit, dazzling under the lights as bills rained down around you.

But this is different. More intimate. More dangerous. You’re not performing for a crowd tonight. You’re performing only for him.

It further fuels this selfish entitlement he feels towards you. 

Deep reds and purples kiss your skin, making you look like a wet dream come to life. You catch his eye as you move, holding his gaze with that signature daring look, lips parted, a small, cocky smile playing at the corners.

Javier is rock hard, breathing heavier than he should be. He’s been turned on since your first text, but watching you now is torture of the best kind. His palms are clammy, fingers balled up into a fist as he fights to keep himself sat in the chair.

You approach him slowly but you don’t let him touch. Instead, you slowly unzip your cropped jacket, teasing him more, peeling it off and letting it slide down your arms then drop to the floor, revealing a sexy push-up bra that lifts your tits perfectly.

The sight makes his tongue feel thick in his mouth, eyes tracing down your toned sternum and to the shining gem of your pretty belly button ring.

Then go the shorts. You turn around, giving him the view he’s been dying for—sliding the fabric down your legs with agonizing slowness, bending at the waist to show off the perfect, round curve of your ass in the tiny thong.

The arch in your back is wicked, thick thighs flexing as you step out of the shorts and leg warmers, leaving you in nothing but the heels, bra, and thong.

Javier’s breath catches, a low growl rumbling in his chest.

You fall to your knees and crawl toward him on all fours, eyes locked on his. Your hands slide up his legs and onto his thighs. Purposely, you press your chest against the swollen bulge at his fly, feeling the print of his cock. It makes you hum as you rise to settle on his lap.

You grind your needy core right against his erection. The friction is electric. You smirk when you feel how hard he is, the exact reaction you were looking for, and how his hips twitch up instinctively to meet you.

Large, gun-calloused hands settle on your waist, groping as you reach behind yourself and unclasp your bra. You shimmy your shoulders sensually, letting the straps fall, then toss the garment aside. Your tits spill free, nipples tight and begging for his attention.

Javier’s hooded eyes drop immediately, heavy with lust. His mustache twitches as he licks his lower lip, fingers digging harder into your waist.

“Do you like what you see, baby?” you coo with a tilt of your head, biting your lip as you press down harder, rolling your hips in tantalizing circles against his cock to match the rhythm of the song.

“Fuck yeah. You’re the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever seen,” he rasps truthfully, guiding the way you move on him.

The giggle you let out is downright salacious. “I know.”

Javier groans, head falling back for a second as you keep moving, your damp arousal leaving a wet spot on his pants. He’s losing his fucking mind.

The mix fades out on a sultry, lingering note. You’re about to slide off Javier’s lap, but his strong hands hold you firmly in place.

He lifts his hips slightly, reaching into his back pocket with one hand. His wallet comes out, and he flips it open, pulling out some cash. The paper is crisp as he drags the edge of the money slowly between your breasts, the sensation puckering your sensitive nipples.

He continues lower, the bills brushing over your stomach until they tickle the sensitive skin around your belly button ring. You squirm on his lap, thighs tensing around him, a soft moan slipping from your lips as heat pools low in your core.

You stare down at him, intrigued and breathless, glossed lips parted.

Javi holds the money up between you in a challenge. You reach for it, but he pulls it back at the last second, an impish glint in his dark eyes.

“Dame un beso.”

The words hit you like a spark to dry tinder. Your clit throbs hard, a fresh wave of wetness soaking your thong. It’s rare when he speaks Spanish to you, but when he does, it always fucks with your head in the best way. It’s so impossibly sexy.

You grab his loosened tie, yanking him forward until your bare tits press against the fabric of his shirt. 

Your nose brushes against his strong, aquiline one, as you cup his jaw in both hands, thumbs stroking over the rough stubble on his cheeks. Your eyes flutter closed as you lean in and kiss him exactly as he asked—slow at first, then deeper, hungrier.

His thick mustache scratches against your skin, sending goosebumps racing down your arms. You bite his lower lip, sucking it into your mouth before slipping your tongue inside, tasting the remnants of whiskey on him. 

Javier loses himself in the kiss. He loves this almost as much as fucking you. The softness of your mouth, the way you taste, the way you melt against him like you were made to fit right here.

Your body is warm and pliant against him. It fuels every dark, possessive feeling he has for you. He’s too addicted to the way you make him feel.

You pull back first, nipping his bottom lip one last time, a thin string of spit connecting your mouths. You snatch the money from his fingers with a playful little smirk.

“Thanks, daddy,” you coo, pecking the tip of his nose before sliding off his lap entirely.

His cock twitches hard in his pants, a fresh surge of lust making his head spin. He’s never been called that before, but coming from you, it stirs something primal and filthy inside him. Though anything you call him makes him react this way.

“So, what’d you think of the set?” you ask as you move around the studio, changing the lights to a softer, warmer glow.

Javier feels a little disoriented. He expected the dance to lead straight into fucking you senseless on the floor.

“It was great,” he mutters, adjusting himself blatantly as he watches you. “Fucking amazing.”

“Think my tips are gonna be good?”

“Your tips are always good, muñeca.”

You laugh softly, a sinful little sound. “Smart answer, agent.”

You slip off your Pleasers and return them to their spot on the wall, then grab your phone. You approach him from behind, leaning down to rest your chin on his shoulder. Your hands slide over his chest, feeling the solid warmth of him through his shirt.

“I’m gonna change, then I want you to take us somewhere.”

Javier turns his head slightly. “Take us somewhere…? It’s late.”

“And?” You peck his lips. “You’re on Vegas time now, baby. No such thing as it being too late.”

He supposes you have a point. “Okay… where are we going?”

“You’ll see.” You wink, pulling back and walking down the stairs. He has no choice but to follow.

You change quickly, squeezing into a low-rise mini skirt that barely covers your ass and a tight tube top that stretches across your heavy breasts, slipping on your favorite pair of glittery pumps. Throwing on a cropped, bedazzled denim jacket, you let your hair down from the ponytail and fluff it out until it falls exactly how you want it to.

Snatching the nearest designer bag, you scoop a quick bump onto your pinky nail, inhale it sharply, and rub your nose with a sniffle before stuffing your essentials inside.

Javier watches from the doorway, arms crossed, the bulge in his pants still obvious.

“Are you going to tell me where we’re going now?” he asks as you meet him at the door.

You pop a lollipop into your mouth, the glossy pink sphere resting between your freshly glossed lips as you spritz on some perfume.

“Nope.”

Walking out into the night together, the city waits with the promise of more chaos, pleasure, and more of the beautiful disaster you two can’t seem to quit.

Javier’s Escalade rolls to a stop at the end of a long, private driveway. Ahead sits a sprawling, Tuscan styled house. It looks like something out of an architecture magazine. 

Palm trees sway gently in the night breeze and the distant lights of Las Vegas glitter far below like a spilled jewelry box.

He cuts the engine and stares at the house for a long moment, brows pinched together.

“Where are we?”

“A mansion,” you reply simply, popping the door open and hopping out, your short skirt riding up your thighs as you adjust the strap of your bag against your shoulder. 

Javier deadpans, exhaling through his nose. He kills the headlights, steps out, and follows you up the wide stone pathway toward the massive double front doors. His eyes scan the property automatically—looking for cameras, motion lights, anything that might scream you’re about to get caught trespassing!

You pause near one of the ornate windows flanking the entrance, then casually step off the path and into the neatly trimmed hedges, careful not to let the heel of your custom Swarovski Louboutin’s sink into the wet dirt below.

“What the hell are you doing?” Javier whisper-yells. He stays on the walkway, glancing over his shoulder like he expects a security guard to appear any second.

You ignore him, rolling the candy around in your mouth as you feel along the underside of the window frame. A few seconds later you make a soft, triumphant sound.

“Score.”

You pull a small metal key from its hiding spot, wipe the dirt off on the side of your skirt, and step back onto the pathway. Using the item, you unlock the front door and step in, immediately going over to the alarm and punching in the code to make sure it doesn’t sound off.

Javier remains in the doorway, framed by moonlight, eyes narrowed into slits.

“Are you just going to stand there looking like there’s a stick up your ass or are you coming in?” you ask with a tilt of your head.

“Whose house is this?” he demands.

He doesn’t recognize the property from any of the files on you or the Valentine family. The place is too clean and far removed from the usual circles of Ace and the Ivory Saints.

Granted, it could be under a different account or something, but he sincerely doubts it—especially with the way you’re looking at him right now.

“A plastic surgeon’s.”

His frown deepens in confusion.

You roll your eyes dramatically, popping the candy free from between your lips for a second. “For a federal agent—it really takes you a while to figure shit out sometimes.”

His tone hardens sternly as he says your name, hands settling on his hips.

You sigh, as if taking pity on him. “His name is Neil. He’s a frequent client of mine. Told me I could crash here whenever I wanted. Su casa es mi casa.”

“Bullshit.”

Yeah, complete bullshit. You’ve been here enough times to memorize the alarm code the other man always puts in and where he keeps the spare key. It’s not your fault that these men make it easy for women like you to take advantage of them. 

You shrug, completely unbothered. “He doesn’t even live here full-time. He’s usually off being the perfect, present dad with his family. He only comes here when he’s got a patient in town… or when he misses me.”

For some reason that manages to irk the fuck out of Javi. His jaw flexes, a flicker of jealousy crossing his handsome face before he can hide it.

“I’m not breaking into your plastic surgeon’s house,” he tells you firmly.

“Uh,” you’re almost offended by the statement, “he’s not my surgeon. This body?” You spin in place, showing off your banging figure in the tight outfit, running a hand up your side, over the swell of your hip, squeezing your tit. “All natural. You should know.” You flip your hair over one shoulder with a little smirk.

“Don’t be such a priss, baby. I just wanna have some fun with you.” you push your bottom lip out in an exaggerated pout and look at him in that way that always gets under his skin. 

Javier doesn’t think he’s ever been this wrapped around someone’s finger before—not even his ex-wife, whom at one point in his life he truly had loved. Something about you makes him lose every ounce of good sense he’s ever possessed.

He rolls his tongue over his teeth, mutters something under his breath, and finally steps inside the luxurious home without another word, shutting the door behind him.

Your pout melts into a smug, victorious grin. You close the distance between you, kissing him hotly, tasting like sugar and whatever gloss you put on earlier. “I’ll make it worth your while,” you whisper against his lips. “Promise.”

Javier only grunts in response, but his hand finds yours anyway. You lace your fingers through his and lead him deeper into the darkened mansion, flipping on lights as you go, illuminating a path through this maze of house.

Once you reach the main bedroom, you adjust the dimmer slider. Soft light spills across the space, revealing an almost tacky display of wealth.

In the center of the room sits a massive circular bed draped in silk sheets. Glass doors open onto a private patio where a steaming hot tub waits. But what truly pulls Javier’s attention is the enormous mirror covering the entire ceiling. A perfect reflection of the bed beneath it.

Wrapping your candy in its wrapper, you slip it into your purse and sling the accessory onto one of the leather chairs near the small bar area. You shrug out of the cropped denim jacket, letting it fall in a heap next to it. 

“This is really what I wanted to show you.”

A ghost of a smirk tugs at the corner of Javier’s mouth. He walks up behind you without a word, the warmth of his body pressing against your back as he lowers his face into the crook of your neck.

His hands begin to roam, one sliding up to cup your breast through the thin fabric of your top, thumb brushing over the already tight nipple, the other settling on your hip.

“I want to watch you fuck me, agent.” You whisper in the sweetest voice, thighs rubbing together as the pressure at your pussy intensifies. 

He bites down on the sensitive pulse point just below your ear, then licks a wet line up the side of your neck, grinding the hard swell of his erection against the curve of your ass.

With a request like that, he knows he has no choice but to deliver.

“Undress and kneel on the bed.” He orders in a raspy tone, which slithers down the length of your spine and makes you arch your back, pressing yourself against him even more.

He releases you and takes a step back. You inhale shakily, the sudden absence of him leaving your skin tingling, but you do exactly as you’re told.

Your compliance is rare. You don’t usually submit to just anyone. Javier just has this authority about him that makes you really fucking wet.

He watches with hooded eyes as he digs into his pocket and pulls out his pack of cigarettes. He taps one free, lights it in one smooth motion, and takes a long drag. The sweet burn of tobacco fills his lungs while he observes you peel the skimpy outfit from your body.

You kick the heels aside and crawl onto the circular bed, kneeling right in the center. Your hands cross behind your back, back arched, the submission in your posture a thin veil over the bratty attitude that’s embedded in your damn being.

Javier approaches slowly, the cigarette burning between his fingers. His gaze traces every inch of you lustfully: the perfect shape of your breasts, the hard points of your nipples, past your belly ring and down to your delicious thighs. 

You look sinful and expensive, waiting just for him to make you feel like no one else has before.

Doing some ogling of your own, you bite down on your lip.

You’ve never been particularly drawn to the suit-and-tie type, but something about the way the button up stretches across Javier’s broad shoulders and the leather belt cinches his narrow waist really turns you on.

The expensive silver watch further accentuates his toned forearms and thick wrist. His large, veined, capable hands are something that dreams are made of. His fingers feel almost as good as his cock inside you.

You can’t help the way you writhe slightly in place, restless, as you watch him smoke. His dark brown eyes meet yours through the cloudy haze, locked in a silent, heated challenge.

Silent as ever, Javier trails a hand slowly down to the front of his pants. He grips the thick, heavy outline of his cock through the fabric. He’d skipped the briefs today, and the material of his dress pants does little to hide how badly he wants you.

You watch, tongue slipping out to wet your lower lip, as he unbuckles his leather belt with one hand. The metal clinks softly. He pops the button of his fly free, then slides the zipper down with a deliberate rasp. 

You get a good glimpse of his pubic hair and that puts hearts in your eyes.

“Come here.”

Your chest rises and falls rapidly, the tension in the room so thick it feels like it could choke you. Just like earlier, you crawl across the circular bed on all fours until you reach the edge where he stands. You look up at him through your lashes, waiting for further instructions.

Seeing him in charge like this is really doing it for you.

Holding your gaze, Javier slowly pulls his cock free. The heat of him radiates against your face.

He wraps a firm hand around the thick base, then drags the flushed, leaking head across your lower lip, smearing sticky precum over the soft skin.

The salty-sweet taste hits your tongue the second you lick it, and your mouth waters instantly. He shivers at the contact, eyes darkening further as he takes another long drag from the cigarette, then reaches out to ash it carelessly on the surface of the nearby bedside table.

You part your lips eagerly, leaning forward to take more of him, but he pulls back with a soft, warning tut.

“Not yet.”

Javier begins stroking himself right in front of you. He uses his own precum to slick his shaft, fist gliding up and down.

“Spit on it.”

You gather saliva on your tongue, letting it drop from your mouth and onto his cock with a wet sound that makes your thighs press together. A deep, guttural groan rumbles in his chest at the added lubrication as he watches you on all fours, eager to suck him off and so fucking compliant.

“So you do know how to follow instructions.” Condescension lathers his statement. “Why do you always act so damn stubborn when I ask you to do something, huh baby?”

“Please, Javi—”

“Nuh-uh.” He cuts you off, taking another drag of the cigarette. Smoke curls from his lips as he looks down at you. “Don’t call me that.”

Your confusion lasts only half a second before understanding blooms right against your clit.

“Please, daddy,” you breathe, soft and needy. “Let me suck your cock.”

A satisfied, dark smirk curves his mouth. He then guides the swollen head back to your waiting lips. This time he gives you what you want, sliding into the perfect damp heat of your mouth in one controlled thrust.

His eyes flutter shut, cigarette dangling between his lips, head tipping back as an expletive in Spanish leaves him.

Your lips stretch wide as you take him as deep as you can. His big, veined dick fills your mouth, the heady taste of him flooding your senses.

When the bulbous tip nudges the back of your throat, you gag lewdly, tears pricking the corners of your eyes. Spit begins to drip down your chin as you hollow your cheeks and suck, determined to take more.

Javier’s hand finds the back of your head, fingers threading into your hair, but he doesn’t force your movements. He just holds you there, hips shifting forward in shallow thrusts while he continues to smoke, watching you through half-lidded eyes as you worship his cock.

The ceiling mirror above captures the way your back arches as you push yourself deeper onto him. It’s a beautiful sight, especially when he sees the cute dimples at the base of your spine.

The hand in your hair tightens and pulls you back until only the flushed, glistening tip rests between your plump lips. You look up at him through wet lashes and start to taste it the same way you worked that lollipop earlier; licking and swirling your tongue, sucking on just the head.

The need to feel the rest of you again becomes too much. He guides you forward once more, feeding his cock back into your mouth, controlling the pace with firm, steady pressure.

You love sucking dick, thoroughly enjoying the stretch of your jaw, the fullness in your throat, the way his cock pulses against your tongue. Every time he bottoms out and the head nudges the back of your mouth, a fresh rush of wetness soaks between your thighs.

When he holds you flush against him, the wiry hair at the base of his cock tickles your nose, and your eyes water until tears stream from the outer corners, making your lashes clump together. The look you give him is so fucking inviting.

The lack of air and the relentless desire makes your head spin better than any drug you’re hooked on.

Javier leans over and crushes the finished cigarette against the glass top of the bedside table. With both hands free, he tangles them into your silky hair, gripping tight on either side of your head.

His hips start moving with more urgency, fucking your mouth with impassioned thrusts. The metal buckle of his open belt occasionally grazes your cheek, but you’re too far gone to care. Your cheeks are sucked in for maximum suction, spit bubbling at the corners of your lips and dripping in long, glossy strands down your chin and onto your bare tits.

The entire act is messy as fuck.

He pulls out suddenly, his spit-slicked length bouncing against your lips. He rubs himself all over your pretty face—smearing the remnants of your gloss and the minimal makeup you put on earlier, painting your cheeks and chin with his precum and your own spit.

Your eyes stay closed in pure bliss as you chase him with your tongue, licking and mouthing at the smooth, hard shaft whenever it comes near your lips.

“God, you look so fuckin’ perfect like this, muñeca,” he praises.

You smile indecently, then lean in and kiss your way down the underside of his cock until you reach his heavy balls. You suck one into your mouth, rolling it gently with your tongue, then the other, giving them thorough attention before licking all the way back up and deepthroating him on your own accord. 

The squelchy, rhythmic gluck-gluck sounds of the eager blowjob fill the room as you set out to make him spill down your gifted throat.

Javier catches on to your plan immediately. He uses the firm grip in your hair to pull you off with a vulgar pop, craning your head back so you’re forced to look up at him.

Your lips are swollen and numb, lids heavy, spit still connecting you to him in a thin string.

“Easy there, baby,” he rumbles, thumb brushing over your bottom lip. “Don’t be such an eager little slut. I’ll make sure you get what you want.”

The degradation sounds so sweet coming from him, sending another pulse of heat straight to your cunt.

“You taste so good. Please cum down my throat.” you stick your tongue out, enticing him to slide in again.

He tilts his head mockingly, mustache twitching at your words. Letting go of your hair, he pulls his loosened tie free and unbuttons the rest of his dress shirt. His pants drop the rest of the way to his ankles, leaving him half-dressed.

Javier maneuvers you into the position he wants you in, flipping you over until you’re bent over in front of him, ass up, face down toward the circular bed.

Pulling your hips up and forcing a deep arch into your back, he grips his cock again and runs the fat head up and down your puffy, swollen folds.

You’re dripping for him, wet and sensitive from just sucking him off.

“Beg for it.”

You can’t help the breathless laugh that escapes you. The sound earns you a sharp, hard crack across the plump cheek of your ass. The sting blooms hot and it feels so fucking good, making you yelp and push back toward him instinctively.

“Please, daddy,” you whine, half appeasing his command, half appeasing yourself.  “Fuck this pussy. She needs you so bad. I need you.” You roll your hips, trying to catch the head of his cock in your hole to force him inside the heavenly cavern of your pussy.

He doesn’t give in so easily this time. He uses the upper hand he has to tease you the way you’ve always teased him. His free hand gathers both of your wrists and pins them firmly against your lower back, making you collapse onto your cheek, even more at his mercy.

The position leaves you open, exposed, completely under his control. With a tight grip on your wrists, he holds you still and repeats the command.

“Beg for it like you mean it, baby. I know you can do better than that.”

You bite your lip hard, walls clenching around nothing as your tongue loosens.

“I think about you all the time,” you confess with a shaky voice. “When I’m at the club grinding on some small dick asshole who doesn’t know what the fuck he’s doing. When I’m home with my fingers buried in my cunt, imagining they’re yours. I need you so bad, daddy. No one can please me the way you and your cock do.”

Javier’s jaw clenches hard. His cock jumps against your needy pussy at the filthy honesty of your words. He lands another sharp spank on the opposite cheek, making you moan, then—without warning—buries himself deep inside you in one thrust.

“Oh fuck!” you sob, the sudden, burning stretch overwhelming as he begins to ravish you entirely.

Javier braces himself with the grip on your wrists, pounding into you with everything he has. Your arousal splatters wetly against his groin with every hard snap of his hips, the creamy evidence of how badly you want him coating his cock each time he pulls out and drives back in.

Your pussy lips grip him greedily, the wet, filthy sounds of skin on skin filling the room.

“Just like that, baby,” he grunts, sweat beading at his temple, his face stern in concentration. “Take it.”

He leans forward, yanking you up slightly by the wrists and wrapping his other hand around your throat, holding you in that perfect, controlled position while he splits you open on his cock over and over.

The pressure of his fingers on your neck is exact. Not too tight, just enough to make every thrust feel more intense as he holds you in the perfect position.

“Oh my god—ah—oh my god, yesyesyes, just like that. I love taking your cock just like this. So fucking big,” you babble, voice high and a large fucked-out smile on your face. “Fuck this pussy harder, daddy, please. You make me so fucking horny.”

Dirty talk has never been something Javier particularly sought out, but hearing it spill from your mouth in that sweet, pornographic tone makes him fucking feral. He adds more force to his thrusts, adjusting the angle of his hips until he finds that perfect spot that tears those high-pitched, broken cries from your lips—the ones he loves more than he should.

Your walls squeeze him wetly as your climax coils tighter and tighter. Your clit pulses with every deep stroke. Tears stream freely down your cheeks as the pleasure builds to the edge of pain.

“Give it to me, Javi—please—fuck, I’m about to come,” you sob, eyes squeezed shut, body quivering around his shaft.

His gaze drops to the sight of your ass clapping back against his thighs, then lower, to where your pussy lips are stretched obscenely around him and the absolute mess you’ve made together. 

He lets you climb right to the brink of your orgasm, right to that perfect edge where you’re about to shatter wholly, before he pulls out completely.

You gasp loudly, the sudden emptiness leaving you disoriented and teeming with agonizing horniness. Your empty cunt clenches around nothing, desperate for the fullness he just stole.

“Javi… daddy… baby, please—”

He releases you entirely. You collapse forward onto the bed, trying to catch your breath. Your wrists throb faintly from his grip, and your pussy pulses emptily, hips chasing anything that might fill her.

He drops to his knees behind you, in a trance himself, and buries his face between your thighs, mouth opening wide against your used, fucked-out pussy.

The feeling of his mouth makes you cry out into the sheets, the sound muffled and broken. Your lips fall open, drool pooling beneath your cheek as Javier eats you from behind with an intensity that makes your eyes roll to the back of your head.

His tongue spears deep into your fluttering entrance, fucking you with it in short, wet thrusts while his coarse mustache scrapes deliciously against your swollen folds and oversensitive clit. You drench his face almost immediately, a fresh rush of arousal coating his lips, chin, and mustache as he groans into you like a man tasting something sweet for the first time.

He sucks your clit hard between his lips, the sudden pressure so perfect, and when his open palm cracks across the flushed cheek of your ass at the same moment, you peak.

The orgasm rips through you without warning. Your back arches violently, thighs shaking around his head as you come hard against his tongue, sobbing into the expensive sheets. Spit, tears, and snot leave a wet, messy patch on the fabric.

Your entire body buzzes and twitches in the aftermath, aftershocks rolling through you while Javier keeps licking, sucking, and groping the soft flesh of your ass and thighs like he can’t get enough.

“You don’t know what you do to me,” he mumbles against your soaked cunt, the deep resonance making you whimper. He slows his tongue but doesn’t stop, lapping up every syrupy drop. “I’d do anything for this pussy, baby. Anything.”

You’re too far gone to fully register the words. Your mind is white noise and pleasure, limbs heavy and loose. You barely notice when he finally pulls back, stands, and finishes undressing—kicking the pants and shoes away until he’s completely naked, every hard line of his body on display.

Only when the mattress dips under his weight do you become aware again.

“You said you wanted to watch me fuck you,” he reminds you, his voice just barely reaching you over the roaring at your ears.

He moves you easily onto your back, spreading your thighs wide and settling between them. His broad, warm body covers yours as he wraps your legs around his waist and slides back inside you in one smooth motion.

You’re so wet and open that he sinks into the root with almost no resistance. Your back arches hard off the bed, acrylic nails digging into the hard muscle of his shoulders before dragging down, leaving angry red marks along his back.

“Watch yourself,” he grunts against your ear, pulling back enough to brace himself on one strong arm. His other hand cups your jaw firmly, forcing your face upward so you’re looking straight into the massive mirror on the ceiling.

The reflection is licentious and beautiful all at once—golden satin sheets tangled around your bodies like melted gold, your legs locked tight around his waist, the way his back muscles ripple and contract with every deep thrust.

His ass flexes as he drives into you. Your tits bounce with the force of it. Tears still gloss your eyes, making the entire image shimmer and blur, but you can’t look away.

You’re left completely speechless, lips parted as you pant and moan wildly. Another orgasm builds fast and vicious with the change in position and the visual of him taking you so thoroughly.

Javier feels the way your walls start fluttering and switches from long strokes to deep, grinding circles, pressing the base of his cock and the wiry hair at his pelvis against your swollen clit and rubbing it in intentful circles.

The dual sensation of being stretched full of him and the constant friction on your clit is too much. You topple over with a broken sob of his name, body locking up as you come hard around his cock, gushing in quivering waves.

“So pretty coming all over my cock like this, baby. Bet those other motherfuckers don’t get to see you like this, huh? Tell me. Tell me they don’t fuck you like I do.”

His fingers dig into the soft skin of your cheeks, holding your face steady so you keep watching yourself fall apart in the mirror. He grinds through every pulse of your orgasm, letting you ride it out, relishing the way your cunt grips him like a vice.

“They don’t fuck me like you do, Javier. No one does.” Your words slur, but you tell him the truth. There’s no need to lie. He is the best fuck you’ve ever had. 

Javier breathes heavily above you, satisfied with your answer, fighting off his own release, more interested in drawing every last drop of pleasure from your body than finishing himself. Your vision is blurry, eyes flitting between the mirror and his intense, dark stare.

His expression is focused, almost stern, locked on every little spasm and tremor you give him.

Still holding your face, he leans down and kisses you soft and slow—a stark contrast to the way he’s been fucking you. The tenderness makes more tears well in your eyes.

“Oh…” you whimper against his mouth, the contrast almost too much.

“No llores (don’t cry), muñeca,” he murmurs against your lips. “I’m giving you exactly what you asked for.”

You hiss when he pulls out, chasing after his lips as he begins to pull away. Javier rolls the two of you over with ease so that now he’s flat on his back and you’re draped fully across his chest, knees bracketing his waist.

“Turn over on your back. Lean on me.” His curved nose brushes your cheek as his fingers trail lazily up and down the length of your spine.

You hum in response, body still trembling, and carefully rearrange yourself. You sit up to reverse the position, then sink back until you’re lying flat against his broad chest, the hard planes of his muscles warm and sticky from sweat under your back.

Your thighs drape over his, feet planted on the mattress on either side of his legs. In the ceiling mirror the view is erotic—your body stretched out on top of his, tits rising and falling with every breath, the dark trail of his happy path visible beneath you.

Javier spreads his legs wider, forcing yours open in the process. You reach down between your bodies, wrapping your fingers around his cock and rubbing the head through your swollen lips. The contact makes your head tip back against his shoulder with a soft moan.

You guide him to your entrance and sink down slowly, taking every inch until you’re fully seated on him.

“Ohhh…” you whine, one hand flying up to tangle in his dark hair while the other cups your own breast, squeezing and tugging your nipple as you lock eyes with him in the mirror above.

That nearly does him over. You’re such a sight like this—the memory of this night will be burned into his mind for the rest of his fucking life.

He plants his feet firmly against the mattress for leverage and begins thrusting upward in a steady, powerful rhythm. His fingers dig into the soft flesh of your hips, holding you steady as he slides in and out of your worked pussy.

Both of you watch, enraptured, as your bodies move together in the reflection. Your tits bounce with every upward stroke, the place where you’re joined glistening and messy, his thick shaft sawing into you over and over again.

“This what you wanted?” he whispers hotly against your ear, teeth nipping at the lobe.

“We look so good,” you moan, the hand on your breast sliding down to rub tight circles over your clit while the other yanks at his hair. “Fuuuuck, you feel so good daddy.”

Javier sucks a dark mark into the soft skin of your neck, uncaring that it might cause problems for you at the club later. Matching bruises are already forming under his fingers at your waist.

The dual sensations—the deep stretch of his cock and the pressure on your clit—make your thighs shake.

You grow more impatient and greedy. You start swiveling your hips in filthy circles, forcing him to slow his thrusts as you take control.

In a position that is much like reverse cowgirl, you let go of his hair and stop touching yourself. You arch up off his chest, flipping your hair over one shoulder, and plant both palms on either side of his stomach. 

Leaning back slightly, you begin bouncing on his cock in earnest—lifting and dropping, taking him deep on every descent. The new angle hits that spongey spot inside you and tears wild, panting moans from your throat. [🅴]

Javier’s molars grind at the feeling. His balls draw up tight as the orgasm he’s been denying himself for so long finally starts to crest. Watching you ride him with such abandon is too much.

“Where do you want it?” he growls, one hand reaching around to play with your clit again, rubbing tightly, then delivering a sharp little smack against the sensitive pearl that makes you yelp. The bright flash of pain mixed with pleasure nearly sends you over the edge.

As much as you’d love to feel the hot rush of him filling you, you want the visual. The mess.

“On my face… my tits… all over this pussy,” you answer in a pornographic moan, swirling and grinding down on him.

“Fuck—I’m gonna come, baby. Gonna make a mess all over your pretty body.” He curses, spanking your clit once more before both hands clamp down on your hips. He takes over completely, bouncing you on his cock like his own personal toy, using the luscious heat of your cunt to finish himself off.

At the last second he lifts you off and comes hard, thick ropes of his spend striping across your stomach, your tits, and the swollen lips of your pussy. Some of it lands high enough to streak your chin.

“Yes! Yes! Yes!” you shriek like a delirious minx, smirking as he paints you exactly the way you asked.

Before you can even process his release cooling on your skin, Javier shoves three thick fingers into your gaping, cum-slick hole. He uses the fresh mess as lube, curling and pumping his fingers hard and fast, chasing one last orgasm from you.

Your face pinches in pure euphoria as you squirt around his hand, making an even bigger, wetter mess, walls fluttering wildly until your body collapses back against his chest as the final climax rips through you.

“Hmmmm… holy shit,” you slur, completely gratified, body fuzzy and heavy. His cum begins to dry on your sweaty skin in sticky patterns.

Javier’s chest rises and falls rapidly beneath you, breath uneven. “Fuck, I need a smoke after that.” 

His hands leave your hips to stroke slowly up and down your thighs. He looks up at the ceiling mirror, admiring the wrecked, post-coital picture the two of you make, your body marked and satiated on top of his. He reaches up and grabs both of your tits, squeezing them together and smearing the cum that landed there even more, thumbs circling your nipples.

“You’re fucking amazing,” he mutters against your ear, then starts kissing a slow path up and down the side of your neck, inhaling the mixed saltiness of your skin and the sweet florals of your perfume.

You only hum in response, a satisfied giggle escaping when his mustache tickles you.

You clench deliberately around the fingers still buried inside you, enjoying the lingering fullness and the way he keeps touching you like he actually can’t stop.

“I know.”

You sink deeper into the warm water of the hot tub, the heat melting the residual ache from your muscles as the jets bubble gently around you.

You track Javier as he steps into the water with you, the steam curling up around his bare chest and shoulders. He settles beside you with a soft splash, one hand holding a crystal flute of champagne he’d poured from the bottle you found in the bar area.

He reaches for you and pulls you fully onto his lap, your wet skin sliding against his. You settle with your back to his chest, the water lapping at your breasts, and take a slow sip from the glass he offers you. The champagne is cold and crisp, the bubbles fizzing on your tongue.

“Stay here tonight.”

Javier snorts, amused, as he glances around the spacious patio. After the second (or third) round in the bedroom, you’d been the one to suggest the hot tub. A perfect way to unwind and let the heat and water soothe the bruises and bite marks he’d left on your skin… and vice versa.

“And if your sugar daddy decides to come home?” he asks, one arm wrapping loosely around your waist under the water.

You shrug, uncaring, and take another sip. “We can ask him to join us. Not the first time he’s shared me.”

Despite knowing what you do and seeing you indulge in other men at Ace, Javi still can’t help but feel that harsh, jealous sting in his chest at your words. His arm tightens around you almost unconsciously.

“Not sure that I want to share you,” he mutters against your bare shoulder, then presses a slow kiss there before trailing higher up the side of your neck.

You press your lips together, tasting the lingering fizz of the bubbly.

Here he goes again, getting sentimental, letting this turn complicated. Good thing you’re an expert at navigating these types of situations.

What? Javier isn’t the first (nor will he be the last) to catch feelings for you. Or, well, your pussy—to be exact.

“You don’t really have a choice, do you?”

“Guess not,” he grumbles.

“Don’t be a grump, handsome.” You lean back on his shoulder and get a good look at him: swollen lips, flushed cheeks, perpetual frown on his face. “You know you’re my favorite. I wouldn’t just ask anyone to stay the night with me.”

“Not even Sebastian?” he asks, the name dry and pointed. 

Javier had personally arrested him that night out on the airstrip in the desert when his team had busted the event. He’d been aware of your little ‘relationship’ with him—so when he saw the guy there with his pimped-out race car and trunk full of drugs, he was more than happy to cuff his ass.

It had been more satisfying than it should have been.

You let out a loud, genuine laugh and finish the rest of the champagne in one swallow. It’s been a long time since you’ve heard that name.

“He served his purpose until he didn’t,” you say, setting the empty flute on the edge of the tub.

Javier is quiet for a moment. “What’s my purpose?”

You pull away just enough to twist sideways in his lap and look him fully in the eyes. Your own narrow slightly, studying him through the steam.

“Are you staying or not?” you ask instead, ignoring his question entirely. It’s a deflection and you both know it. 

Part of you wants him to stay—craving the feeling of being pressed up against him and the weight of his arms around you while you sleep… and the promise of lazy morning sex that would almost certainly follow. But if it’s only going to make things messier, if it’s going to give him the wrong idea, maybe it’s better he goes home.

Plus, there’s the bedroom to clean before you dip. Can’t have Neil coming home to find evidence of your little Goldilocks moment in his sheets.

Javier mirrors your look and decides not to push. He knows what this is. You know what this is. And for now, he’ll keep playing dumb about his feelings until he can’t, pretending this is nothing more than mind-blowing sex.

“I’ll stay.” His raspy voice concedes.

You flash him a bright, toothy grin and lean in to kiss him, pecking his lips repeatedly then spreading them all over his face.

“Thank you, Daddy,” you add in an overly sweet, teasing tone.

Javier rolls his eyes, but the corner of his mouth quirks upward. He pulls your naked body tighter against his under the water and kisses you back wantonly, one hand sliding up your spine to cradle the back of your neck as the steam rises around the two of you and dawn slowly begins to break through in the horizon.

When you're first taken into Jackson you're malnourished and of course your body isn't able to keep a healthy cycle. You've never ovulated before because you weren't getting the nutrients required. Whatever you managed to scrounge up in the wilderness was barely enough to survive day to day. The energy you could make went to keeping you alive. Any other system that didn't serve that same purpose got repressed.

But inside the settlement? You ate well. It only took a few months before your hormones were able to function as they normally would. Only—you thought there was something wrong.

You felt so tingly, so hot, all the time. Your heartbeat was faster than usual and your underwear was slicker than it should have been. It felt like you needed something, but you didn't know what. The sensations only got worse the more you tried to ignore them and you began to grow concerned. What was happening with you?

Maybe you should have gone to a doctor, but it just seemed so scary. You trusted Joel more than the physician so it only made sense to turn to him first. And if he thought something was off, you'd go to the medical house in the morning.

"I think something's wrong." You blurt, sat on his couch and fidgeting something awful.

"What's goin' on?" He sits on the coffee table in front of you, his long legs bracketing yours.

"I... I don't feel right." You look down, swallowing. It was even worse now that you were near to him.

"How so?" He prompts, patiently trying to help you figure out your problem.

"I've been running hot this whole week and I feel so funny. Here." You settle a hand over your tummy.

"Maybe you got a stomach bug." Joel leans forward and presses the back of his hand to your forehead. "You been sick?"

"No." You shake your head, looking up at him with eyes full of worry. "I don't think it's that. I feel funny here, too." Your fingers dip down over your pelvis.

"Oh." He clears his throat. "Oh. I think I know what's goin' on with you."

"You do?" You breathe out in relief.

"Yeah. Mind if I ask you somethin' you might consider real personal?" When you shake your head, he goes on. "Do you feel all achey right about here?" He cups between his own thighs and then points to you. "You been getting a little wetter than usual?"

"Yeah." You admit, crossing your legs. The friction makes you stutter. "Sensitive. Is that bad? Should I see a doctor?"

"No baby, it's not bad at all." He reassures you, gently rubbing circles on your knee. "It's actually perfectly normal."

"Then what is it?"

"Hell, I never thought I'd be giving this particular speech again." He mutters under his breath. "You... you do know about sex, right? When a man and a woman– or– just two people. Can be whoever. When two people get together and—"

"I know what sex is." You cut him off.

"Okay." He scratches the back of his head. "Well, what you're feelin' is your body's way of sayin' it wants it."

You blink. Could that be right?

"When you start feelin' all hot and bothered like that, all slick between your thighs, it means you're aroused." He explains.

"Can you make it go away?" You plead, shifting again and the seam of your jeans press against the spot that send tingles down your thighs. "Please Joel?"

"I'm not..." he takes a deep breath, mulling over a choice in his head. "Fuck. Yeah. Yeah, I can make it go away. But you gotta trust me. You gotta let me touch you to help. That alright with you?"

You nod. Anything. But that wasn't satisfactory for him.

"I gotta hear you say it. You know consent? Both people gotta agree." Joel informs you.

"I agree." You whimper.

"Okay. Okay, that's good. God help me, so do I. Now, I think it's gonna be easiest if you get on my lap for this." He helps you stand but before you can sink down, he pauses. His hands on your hips keep you stood between his legs, tugging you a step closer by your belt loop. "These need to come off first. You want me to...?"

"Yes please." You brace shakey hands on his shoulders while he helps you step out of your jeans. He rubs those big, warm hands up and down your thighs, coaxing the blood flow towards your hips. Joel's eyes are glued to the front of your cotton panties and you watch him swallow down air.

"Alright, you're doin' real good." He murmurs, slipping his thumbs into the sides of your underwear. "Gotta take these off too, that okay?"

You hesitate a moment. Nobody had ever seen you naked before. Not fully. Not like this.

"Need your words or we stop. I can help you without touchin' if that's what you're—"

"No." You cut him off. "I like your touching. It's okay."

"Kay." Joel rumbles and he peels off the flimsy garment. "There we go. Come sit. You okay?"

"Mhmm." You gasp, feeling the cool air drift along your heated folds. He helps you straddle him, your thighs spread wide over his and something clenches low in your core. This wasn't helping. It was only making you feel even more needy.

The older man anchors you on his lap, thumbs brushing the creases of your hip.

"Before we start, I gotta know sweetheart. You ever touch yourself? You know how?"

You weren't really sure what he meant. This was the first time you'd felt like this. Usually you were preoccupied with finding shelter or weapons or killing zombies. When you shake your head you swear his grip gets tighter for a second.

"I'm gonna show you the basics then."

Joel's thumb slides down through your curls until it nudges where the tingles come from. A moan leaves your mouth before you can even register it and your hips twitch forward.

"Oh..."

"This is called your clit." He says, slowly dragging circles across the nub. "Feelin' good?"

"Yeah." You gasp, clutching his forarms and looking down. "Really good."

"This is what you do when you need to make that ache go away."

"But you said sex makes it go away."

"I know baby. But there's lots of ways to have sex. It don't just need to be penetration."

"It doesn't?" You ask, enthralled by watching his movements.

"It doesn't." He confirms. "But some people like it a lot. Reckon you might too." He replaces his thumb with two fingers, tracing your clit before dipping lower. They swirl around your entrance and he groans himself when he feels how slick you are. "You're drippin'." He rasps, collecting some of the wetness and bringing it back up to smear over your sensitive bundle of nerves.

"That's a good thing." He tells you, resuming his circles with his thumb. They're firmer this time, and slippery. "It means you're ready."

"Ready for what?"

"For sex. To feel even better than this."

"Really?" You shudder, your hips rocking into his touch.

"Yeah. But I'll teach you 'bout that another time. Right now's all about you. Since it's your first time we gotta build up to the big stuff."

You whine and he huffs a laugh, squeezing your waist with his free hand.

"Easy. You wanted my help, you're doing it my way." His fingers slide down to nudge your hole and your breath hitches.

"Joel..."

"This is your pussy." He says. "She's all wet to get ready for a cock. But you're not getting that tonight." He presses a finger to the tight muscle, barely fitting his nail inside before pulling out. "This is arousal." He shows you the clear, slick liquid on his index. "When your pussy wants somethin' inside of her, she gets herself ready. The wetness helps things slide in real easy. Juuuust like this." He pumps one of his fingers inside, pushing and pulling before it's all the way in.

You squeal, feeling weird and a little bit of hurt with the stretch. But then he curls inside of you and pushes against a part of you you hadn't known existed. Your toes curl and your mouth drops open and the pleasure which blooms behind your eyes overrides any sting.

"You like that?" He grins, slowing his thumb to a stop. You squirm in his lap, panting.

"Do it again." You beg, hopping a little on his legs.

"Say, 'please'."

"Please." You keen and he curls his finger again, stroking the spongey spot inide you. Your silken walls flutter and you back bows when he sets a rythym; pumping his finger in and out of your dripping channel and hitting that special place each time.

Joel has you squirming in no time, sweat gathering behind your knees as he works your pleasure with an expert touch. He starts thrumming your clit again and you feel something different rising now.

"Joel?" You moan, clenching and trying to keep this new feeling from overtaking you. He notes the panic in your voice but he doesn't stop. "W- wait. I'm gonna pee."

"Aww, honey, you ain't gonna pee." He coos. "You're gonna cum. That's the reward for trustin' me and lettin' me help. Feel your legs shakin' now?"

"Uh huh." As if on cue your right leg jumps.

"That means you're close. You're gonna feel all better. Take a deep breath for me. You can do it." He coaxes as the pleasure grows and grows. "Gonna give me a big cum for your first time? Just let it go, baby. Just feel. Don't fight it, it's okay." His fingers pump faster and the sound of it is obscene. All at once your orgasm crashes over you, stealing your breath and tipping your head back as the most intense sensation hijacks your body.

"Look at that." Joel moans, fucking you through it and slowing down when you start to twitch from overstimulation. "What a good girl, I'm so proud of you. You did so well." He drags his finger out of your fluttering pussy to stroke your inner thigh, helping you come down.

"That's what I needed?" You breathe, dropping your head to his chest.

"I'd say so. You feeling better now?" He strokes his other hand down your back. "Is the ache gone?"

"Yeah." It was sated for now, but you were still aware of it lingering. "Thank you, Joel."

"I'm glad I could help. And that you came to me." He pats your thigh, signalling you to stand. Your legs are so shakey that you nearly fall and he catches you with a deep chuckle. "Woah, easy. Got you shaken' like a newborn foal." He sits you back on his couch before helping you pull on your clothes again. "You good?"

"I'm good." You tell him, lost in a happy, hazy state of mind. "I'm so good."

"Alright." He brushes the side of your face. "You did so well, I want you to know that." Joel tells you and you nod.

"Can you teach me more tomorrow? I might... I might need help again." You sink into to the cushions of his couch. They were worn but so incredibly comfortable.

"I'll always help you with whatever you need baby." He says solemnly. "Now stay put, I'm gonna get you some water."