Blow🌬

If you try to barge past him, he snatches your plushie and holds it up high above your head, keeping it in air jail. “No, she wants to stay with me, and if you want to cuddle with her, you’re gonna have to stay here with your amazing boyfriend. Them’s the rules.” He even gives the plushie a little shake for emphasis, like it’s agreeing with him.

When you finally give in and slide into bed with him, he makes a point of sighing dramatically before pressing his cold toes to your legs in punishment. Then, as you yelp and squirm away, he laughs — that boyish, too-loud laugh — before yanking you back into his arms.

He buries his face in the crook of your neck, voice soft and teasing now. “I’m gonna buy a house that doesn’t have a guestroom next time, live a life like a plebeian in the name of love.”

Suguru is offended.

He doesn’t show it, not in a way that leaves him vulnerable anyway. Instead, he just cocks a brow and says, “So now Little Miss Clings To Me Like A Koala Bear wants space, huh? Well, off you go. Have fun, but if there’s a sound coming from the closet, don’t come crying to me.”

He leans back against the headboard, watching you gather your things with that lazy half-smile of his, eyes hooded and impossible to read. You can almost feel the chill in the room when he turns over, pulling the covers up with deliberate calm. If you’re expecting him to chase after you, you’ll be waiting until the end of time; Suguru is too proud, too stubborn, and far too composed to admit that your absence bothers him.

Soon, however, you decide the prank’s gone on long enough and you wander back into your shared room with a sheepish look. He won’t tell you ‘I told you so’ or tease you. He just wraps his arm around you and pretends nothing ever happened. 

The guest room will be locked from then on, though.

Choso is confused.

Like a kicked puppy in a human body, he follows you to the other room, brows furrowed the whole time, and head titled, inspecting the guest room to see if there’s something about it that the main room doesn’t have. “Did I do something wrong?” he asks, “Is it because I sleeptalk? I can tape my mouth shut if it helps.”

You assure him it’s not that, but that only makes him more distressed. “Then why?” he presses, stepping closer, his hand hovering uncertainly over your arm before pulling back. “You’re always warm when you sleep. I-I don’t like it when it’s cold.”

When you insist, he pretends he understands and acquiesces, but you’re aware the entire time that he’s standing right outside the door. You open it to reveal a pouting Choso who carries his pillow under his arm patiently. “Hi,” he says. “Can I sleep with you now?”

He won’t sleep in there though. No, he’ll take you back to your shared room, sleeping between you and the door to make sure he wakes up if you change your mind. 

Once in a while, from then on, you’ll catch him glaring at the door of the guest room.

Toji is unbothered.

He can sleep anywhere, no matter the conditions. So, he won’t do anything but shrug as you leave the room. Kinda annoying, actually. You even check up on him in the middle of the night to see if he’s struggling to sleep without you, but nope, he’s sprawled out like a corpse, snoring loud enough to rattle the whole house.

The next morning, however, he stomps around the house grumpy and complaining about a crick in his neck. He blames it on anything and everything — the mattress was too hard, the pillows were flat, the temperature was off — refusing to acknowledge that maybe, just maybe, it was because he missed you. 

When you suggest that, he clicks his tongue and scoffs, but there’s a flicker of embarrassment in his eyes before he turns away to hide it, clearing his throat.

If you try it again, though, he’s not playing. He’s dragging you back by the waist, slinging you over his shoulder like you weigh nothing, and punctuating your protests with a sharp slap to your ass. Try to wriggle out of bed, you won’t succeed; he’s pinning you down with his own weight, snorting in amusement at your pathetic attempt.

“Quit moving, you brat. Tryna sleep with my girl here.”

Kento is amused.

He knows what you’re doing — there’s simply no universe in which you, the woman who clings to him like his own shadow, would suddenly want to sleep alone. And since he’s done absolutely nothing that day to upset you, he doesn’t even bother pretending to be confused. If you insist, though, he’ll play along. Ever the gentleman, he nods, kisses your forehead, and wishes you a pleasant night’s rest.

He even goes so far as to prepare the guest room just the way you like it: the white noise machine humming softly by the bed, the humidifier misting faintly in the corner, your favourite plushies neatly arranged, and the pillows fluffed to perfection. If you were going to commit to this little prank, he’d make sure you were comfortable doing it.

When you inevitably give in and creep back into your shared room hours later, you find him still awake, glasses perched low on his nose as he reads by lamplight. The covers on your side of the bed are already turned down, waiting for you. Without a word, he marks his page, sets the book aside, and looks up at you with that soft, knowing smile that melts you every time.

“Just in time, sweetheart,” he murmurs, reaching out to guide you into bed. “I was about to sleep and dream of you.”

Sukuna is unamused.

He burns the guest room down before you can even finish your sentence. “What room did you say you wanted to sleep in again? Because from where I’m standing, you only have one option.”

If you even so much as think about sleeping on the couch, he burns that too, a challenging smirk on his lips. “Oops. Perhaps you should consider the floor. It’s nice and hard, great for your back.”

He rolls his eyes when you actually lay on the floor with a huff. There was no way you were going to let him have his way. But you should have known he was more prideful than you, more hardheaded, that there wasn’t a length he wouldn’t go to to prove a point. It becomes no surprise to you then that he follows suit, pulling you off the wooden surface and onto his broad chest, arms an iron-clad cage that dares you to try and escape from him. “Pair of idiots, we are,” he sneers. “Sleeping on the floor when there’s a perfectly fine bed nearby. How ridiculous.”

“It’s not about the bed, Sukuna, it’s the company,” you tease.

“Shut up,” he grumbles, then, “…night.”

You feel like you won until you find out the next morning that he burnt the main room down too. 

Guess where he expects you to sleep from now on.

Ron Weasley :

Big cock is used for filling

Keeping you in place, does size matter?

A proper munch

Harry Potter :

Having his reward after saving the day, again

Stroking him because he just NEEDS it

Just a little fun before class

Fred Weasley :

Breeding you because he's a family guy

Having breakfast in the burrows, out in the open

Riding in the Backseat of the car

George Weasley :

Rather be taking care of you then watching TV

Riding till you're full

You looked so sweet grinding on his cock in your panties

Twins together :

Two at once?

Jerking them off<3

Two holes for a reason

Oliver Wood :

Tasting you before a match, the sight of you spread out gives him luck

Taking out his frustrations after a loss

Emperor! Gojo takes a bath with all his women, when you decide to join the bathhouse after quite a long time without one, your mind drifting to the boy you loved when you were forced to leave your home. You remember your kisses, your promises, and the moment you got sent away here, with a man who's currently being fed grapes in the clear bath waters by many women. They're giggling, touching him, and you barely see him as your attendant helps you undress.

Emperor! Gojo has brilliant blue eyes that catch you across the enormous, steamy bathhouse then - he's pausing as he sees you, just wearing a thin white slip of material, curious just who you are. You take some of the soap you've brought, and your attendant washes your hair while he can't take his eyes off you, your curves in that thin material, the way the smooth skin of your thighs is lit up but the lanterns above. You're so beautiful he must know who you are.

Emperor! Gojo feels his mouth go dry when you step into those waters now, standing a bit so that he sees the full outline of your breasts, making his cock twitch under the water, he can't focus on anything but how those droplets of water fall from your skin as you methodically wash yourself. You peer at him just a bit, before lowering your lashes, when he can't help but look at one of his favorite girls, asking - 'who is she?'

Emperor! Gojo doesn't get an answer, no one knows what you look like yet, so he assumes you must be one of the new girls in a position to become a concubine. and fuck if he wouldn't love that opportunity, imagining fucking a baby into you ruins him then. One of his major duties is to have as many babies as he can, to strengthen the empire of course. Yet he tends to be a little apprehensive, he dares to admit he doesn't cum in any of the concubines yet, he doesn't know if he wants children right away. He's young, but of course the pressure is there, and he knows it will be soon, especially with him having to marry. He shoves that annoying thought away.

Emperor! Gojo was supposed to meet his wife today, should he feel bad? maybe. Does he? no, he does not. He steps away and walks across the water, giving you a good look at him then, his chiseled body, narrow torso, pale skin glimmering under the warmth of the room. The stream rises as you look slowly up his body, carved like a statue, then finally make it to his face, truly beautiful. He does look like his mother, those white locks with just a hint of lavender, the beautiful blue eyes even more intense than hers, his body glistening as he walks closer, plump vermilion lips curved in a smile as he murmurs a - 'hello, there, are you new here?'

Emperor! Gojo has a reputation of being kind and fair, though on the battlefield he was ruthless, tales of him were regaled worldwide, and you knew of his military prowess of course. You tremble just a bit as he gets closer, his eyes slipping down your body like a caress. 'I am new here, your majesty' he smiles now. 'No need to be so formal,' the emperor brushes a hand across your hair, marveling in the silkiness now. 'Are you here to be a concubine? I assure you, I have a position opening very soon' he acts as if that's a compliment, as if you should be thrilled your husband to be is willing to fuck a stranger while he ignores your meeting. But you smile, shaking your head. 'ah, you're mysterious, hmm?'

Emperor! Gojo is enamored when he touches you under the water, big hand on the small of your back, taking it over as he steps closer, so tall and imposing in the water. Your breasts brush against his abdomen, as your breaths quicken, a mix of irritation and something more you don't want to admit. 'You know who I am?' you nod a bit, biting your lip when he leans down, pressing you along the warmth of the hard wall behind you. one of his long thighs presses against your heat, and you hate how your body reacts, it feels like such a betrayal of the one you loved, and for a man who doesn't want to even know you? You bite back a sigh when he leans down, an arm on either side of you.

Emperor! Gojo murmurs the words - 'so fucking pretty, god,' and earns your blush, he chuckles as he sees it, flushed color on your cheeks, when his lips hover over yours. 'Can you at least tell me your name, mysterious girl?' when you say it he immediately recognizes it, faltering and stepping back, eyes wide. You smile, meanly then, batting your lashes. 'was such a shame you couldn't meet me for tea, hmm? I see you were otherwise occupied' you eye the girls behind his shoulders, whispering to each other wildly, when you push him back, hands on his chest. 'It's rude not to even meet me after I got dragged on a five day journey on ship, you know.'

Emperor! Gojo sputters, eyeing your hands on his chest that he now pins there for a moment. 'You're my... you can't be... you...' a sigh escapes your lips, as you tug your hands back. 'Yes, I'm your betrothed, I suppose this is our first meeting. I'll leave you to your pretty concubines, I'm afraid I don't intend on becoming one,' you turn and climb up those steps, the slip forming to you like a goddess, as you turn him down. No one has ever turned Emperor Gojo down!? yet here you are, turning and giving him a little smile as your attendant hands you a towel. 'Perhaps you'll make it to the wedding, your majesty'

Emperor! Gojo is wracked with confusion, part of him doesn't even believe you, concubines were known for their beauty and assets, but wives were much different. They were always from some long line of weak women, usually only there for their duty, his own mother was quite an exception, but her and his father never loved each other. He hoped himself to never have to marry, but now he feels just the smallest twinge of guilt for not meeting you. Even for him it was quite the talk, he could hear the rumors of how he doesn't have interest in his bride to be as he walks through the corridors of his opulent estates.

Emperor! Gojo sees glimpses of you here and there that week, but you bow and say no words to him, avoiding him until it is your wedding day. And to say you were beautiful before, now it leaves him speechless, throat dry as you were those beautiful sky blue ceremonial juunihitoe, layers of blue and white, embossed with silver flowers just flowing from your body. He's wearing his thick dark blue sokutai, the robes altered to reveal far too much of his muscled chest, as Satoru liked to do. His heart hammers as you clutch your hands together, feeling the stoic eyes of so many on you. You focus on the tall, handsome man that clearly doesn't want this any more than you do, stepping closer and closer, until you're in front of him.

Emperor! Gojo is still reeling when you both sip on each of the three cups of sake, he places his lips on one end of the little dish, then hands it to you, eyeing the red painted on your lips. Your makeup has been done clearly, there's color under your eyes, blush along your precious cheeks. Precious, why did he think that? the thought irritates him, when you two continue the ceremony. Soon, it's night time, and he's prepared in just a thin Kimono, loosely tied, walking over to your chambers now and entering them, seeing you sitting in front of the vanity, your attendant brushing out your hair. 'You may go,' he orders her, the doors shutting with a loud echo as he inhales the sweetness of your scent, mixing with the incense you've lit.

Emperor! Gojo has a husky tone as he says your name, and you stand up now, wearing just a thin blue robe, he can see your breasts rising and falling with your breath, as the two of you stand across the room. 'The sooner I have a baby, the less you'll have to see me, or do this,' you say then, shocking him. His mouth opens, then closes as he smirks at you. 'And you think that you know how that's done?' you tilt your head just a bit, letting your robes fall then, covered in nothing, completely bare for his eyes. His breaths come far too quickly, heat rising on his cheeks. He's been with countless women, but nothing prepared him for this, for you, when you step up to him slowly, a hand on his chest. 'Should I prepare you, your majesty?'

Emperor! Gojo is furiously blushing now, annoyed you have whatever odd effect this is, he tries to save face, trembling as your fingers dance across the silk of his robe. 'you think you're adequate at it?' he says then, you smile just a bit. 'I've had instruction on how to please my future husband, there are many books that show it,' he laughs, trying to play it off, when he undoes his tie, and he's just in a fundoshi, showing his cock straining while his robes land on the floor. 'Let's see it, then,' he gasps when you're on your knees, glaring as he thinks that maybe you've done this before, and why should that bother him!?

Emperor! Gojo has his cock free then, slapping his stomach as it does, thick and already hard from just seeing you, you bite your lip as the cool stone floor hurts your knees, stroking him slowly, from the base where he has tufts of white hair, to his pink tip leaking milky drops. 'I thought I'd have to get you in this state? the books didn't mention it being ready...' he glares now, you're insulting him without even knowing it, calling out his desperation. He entangles a hand in your hair then, pulling it as you lap at his tip, almost making him cum from that. 'Let's see what you've learned, hmm?' you're stroking him then, little hand up and down in gentle twists, as you suck him into your mouth, deeper and deeper, his eyes roll back in his head as he fucks your hot mouth then.

Emperor! Gojo has never felt anything better even from the most practiced girls, your suction, the way your tongue swirls, as he fucks your throat deeper and deeper, moaning. But mostly, those eyes looking up at him. He's whispering filthy things - 'slutty fucking throat' - then sweet things - 'doing s'good, sweetheart...' a conundrum of a man. You feel your tummy clenching, something you didn't expect, snowy lashes casting shadows on his cheeks, while you taste him, hands pressing on his muscled thighs. He pulls you off him then, saliva dripping from your mouth. 'Was I not adequate?' he laughs without humor, standing you up now. 'Not adequate?' he is lifting you and slamming his lips on yours, tasting himself, before carrying you on your enormous bed, decorated in more blues, the color of the Gojo clan, the colors of his eyes.

Emperor! Gojo has elegant long fingers, they slip down your body as he feels it tremble, fingers touching your slick cunt then. You gasp as he kisses down one of your breasts, sucking a nipple in his mouth, moaning and rutting his cock on the silk blankets as you cry out. 'Your majesty, you don't need to do all of that, just... get it done,' your words make him pause, looking up and seeing you then, lips swollen from his kisses. He pauses and looks down your body, dying to be inside you, but your words fuck him then. All of the concubines wanted Satoru, and you were just 'doing your duty'. He pulls back then, raising a brow at you. 'Do I need to suck you more?' he shakes his head, clearing his throat then - 'tonight, we will not consummate the marriage' - the words hurt you deeply. 'did I displease you?'

Emperor! Gojo doesn't know what it is, but the thought of a woman not wanting him, especially you, infuriates him. He shoves you up the bed then, making you blink in confusion, when he kisses down your tummy, watching it tense as he dreams of making it bulge with his cock. 'Are you untouched?' he asks, you blush then. 'I have not lain with a man, no, but I'm not untouched.' Satoru's furious anyone saw your pretty body, but he makes no comment, he surely hates tradition and wouldn't care if you were or were not a virgin. In fact he prefers experience, but when he sees your pretty pussy, glistening and soaked, he moans softly, the prettiest one he's seen. 'Your majesty, that's not... in the books!? ah!'

Emperor! Gojo has his tongue slipping up your slit then, smirking against your cunt as your mouth is wide. 'Not everything is in your books, sweetheart,' he laps up your slit again, and you whine out, gripping his shoulders, your nails pressing in. 'I'll have you cum on my face tonight,' his words are now muffled as he buries his face in your sweetness, letting the juices drown him, moaning as he works your body. He feels you tense, feels your cunt pulsing around his tongue when he fucks into your tiny hole, holding your thighs apart. You're lost in how good it feels, you've cum before but never have you done this, felt this, so intense, so much pressure. You're screaming out, hips arching as he makes filthy sounds with your squelching cunt.

Emperor! Gojo almost cums from just this, he's never enjoyed this so much, he can't help but pay attention to every little thing. You yank on his hair, as if to tug him off, he clamps down then, sucking your twitchy little clit into his mouth. 'ah! y-your majesty!' he wants you to call him Satoru, he can't say it though, for now he just devours your pussy, until you shatter. There are no words, just filthy, messy sounds, slurping and squishing echoing in your brand new chambers, while you cum all over your new husband's face. You're shaking as you come down, as the orgasm leaves aftershocks, pulsing around nothing, pleasure making you dizzy, blinded. Satoru presses one more kiss on your pretty cunt, smirking down at you now, pressing a kiss to your lips, when you taste yourself you're a blushing mess. 'a lot of talk, I don't think you're ready f'me yet, sweetheart'

Emperor! Gojo is getting up then, as you catch your breath, sitting up and looking at the man you barely know, his eyes linger across your body as he swipes his chin, embarrassingly coated with your slick. 'And where will you go, your concubines to cum?' he chuckles then, leaning low, tilting your chin up as you look at him. 'would that bother you, sweetheart?' you shake your head, it can't bother you, it shouldn't, this will be your life now. 'Ah, you're not the best liar, that won't help you play the court, you know,' he turns and walks away then, leaving you alone, to contemplate it all.

Just who was Emperor! Gojo!?

hehe I hope ya'll enjoy I can't wait to finish up a couple stories and get to this (or be chaotic and do it anyway lmaoo)

｡𖦹°‧ kento nanami

｡𖦹°‧ choso kamo

｡𖦹°‧ sukuna

｡𖦹°‧ suguru geto

｡𖦹°‧ toji fushiguro

｡𖦹°‧ hiromi higuruma

The illegal hooch coursing through Stack’s body faded away, bringing back his senses. He was able to smell the lingering fragrance of fried catfish, savory collards, and honey butter cornbread. His back felt stiff against the floorboards. His tongue was dry, dehydrated from drinking too much Irish Beer. The Mississippi heat engulfed him, even in the confines of the home his brother and Annie owned. 

Stack shifted his body to a more comfortable position, turning onto his left side, facing the wall. He shut his eyes, trying to capture sleep once more, but the sound of a bed frame thumping against the floorboards kept his eyes open and alert.

“Smoke…Smoke!”

“Get this dick in you!”

He’d been in this position plenty of times.

THUMP! SQUEAK! THUMP! SQUEAK!

Sitting up, Stack stretched his arms above his head. He rubbed his eyes and blinked to focus against the darkness. As his vision grew, he sought out Princess.

Only to find her bed empty.

Stack lifted to his feet. He made his way over to the door, moonlight casting sensual shadows against the muscles of his back. His fingertips brushed against the wooden door and he tapped it slightly to open it up. He peaked out, wondering where Amelia had gone to. The bedroom door to Annie and Smoke’s room is completely shut with light seeping from beneath the door.

Stack entered the room again, slipped his feet into his shoes and snatched his button down shirt from a chair. He didn’t bother to enclose the shirt, walking out into the main area of the tiny home. He could distinctly make out the sound of the kerosene lamp going out. Stack made his way out back first. He checked the time on his gold watch, tapping the face of it.

3:20 am

An unknown insect grazed his cheek. Stack swatted the air before making his way down the steps and into the yard. The moon casted a white glow over the ground, giving him enough light to see where he was going. Stack strolled over to the outhouse to relieve himself. He did a quick piss before using a wash bucket and some soap.

Out in the yard again, Stack shoved his hand into his left pants pocket to retrieve a cigarette. He pat his back right pocket and found his old lighter. Stack lit his cigarette and continued on walking until he made it to the front of the home. Puffing on the cigarette, french inhaling the smoke, he furrowed his brows.

No sign of Princess. Interesting.

Stack was too curious. Too invested in wanting to know where she’d gone. His size nine feet led the way through the trees and along a dirt path that led to Annie’s apothecary. He’d taken this walk plenty, so it wasn’t hard for him to find his way. After ten minutes of walking and searching, Stack caught the sound of water splashing. His footsteps slowed down until he stopped at a willow tree.

The inky pond was so dark that it was hard to see where it ended. The night sky was full of stars, but it revealed nothing of the pond’s inky depths. The serenity of it was a welcome respite from the vast, flat alluvial plain filled with plantations and little freedom.

Back stroking above it, was Princess.

Amelia. She waded through the water before disappearing beneath it. Stack watched her from behind the willow tree, cigarette burning down and long forgotten. His once dry tongue became a slippery appendage that he couldn’t keep hidden, constantly licking his lips at the stunning visual before him.

Amelia popped back to the surface wiping her hand over her face. She didn’t know he was watching her. She sang, caught up in the rapture of the warmth of the pond and how it carried her body.

“Blackbird, blackbird singing the blues all day right outside my door…Blackbird, blackbird gotta be on your way…Where there's sunshine galore…”

The water trickled down her chestnut skin and if Stack could lick every single droplet off with his tongue he would. She brought her hands into her long, wavy hair that sat flat against her scalp and back from the weight of the water. Full, round, breasts with a tan line. Hourglass waistline with the cutest navel.

“Make my bed and light the light, I'll arrive late tonight, Blackbird, bye, bye…”

Stack felt the wind knocked out of him. Breathless and lost for words. The vision before him stunned him. The usual chatty tomcat with a slick tongue rendered speechless. How was it possible to feel all the blood in his veins rush to the tip of his dick to his tallywags.

Princess splashed around in glee, a true ethereal vision. Like a fairy in her own world.

She swam closer towards the edge of the pond. Stack took a step back.

SNAP.

Amelia cast her eyes towards the tree. Stack had nowhere to run. She would see him.

“Who’s there?” Amelia says, looking around to see where the noise came from.

Stack cursed under his breath. He dropped his cigarette.

“…Stack, is that you?”

He hung his head. Fuck it.

Stack appeared from behind the tree. He pushed his hands into his pockets, locking his eyes with Amelia’s. She didn’t chastise him or even question his being there. Not put off in the slightest. The silence between them was unbearable. Stack had to say something.

“Uh…this what you do at three in the mornin’?”

Amelia tilted her head, studying him. Reading his body language.

“It’s what I’m used to. Did it all the time back home.”

Stack walked up to the edge of the pond. He stared down at her, hands still in his pockets. Amelia looked up at him, the tops of her breasts visible.

“Why you here, Stack?” Amelia asked with a soft spoken voice.

“Annie and Smoke woke me up. All that noise they was makin’,” Stack chuckled, “Then I seen ya’ bed empty.”

Stack crouched down. He picked at the grass and a few dandelions.

“Can’t remember the last time I been swimming,” Stack cut his eyes to Amelia with deep concentration, “water does look nice.”

“Feels great. Nice and warm…”

Amelia cupped some water in her hands.

“Why you ain’t get all jumpy when you saw me?”

Amelia shrugged, “‘Cause I ain’t.”

Stack squinted his eyes at her, “But you…you naked.”

Amelia giggles.

“Stack,” she shook her head, “I don’t care ‘bout that. Ain’t like ya’ knew.”

He chuckles, “Fair, Princess…you got a pretty voice.”

“Thank you.”

Amelia braced herself on the edge of the pond. Stack immediately jumped up to help her. He saw her towel and grabbed it before reaching out a hand to lift her out. She grasped his hand and pulled him in the water.

SPLASH!

“AHA!” Amelia laughed hysterically.

Stack broke the surface, wiping water from his face. His button down shirt was plastered to his skin and hanging from his shoulders. His hair for sure was fucked up, curling up into its usual coily fro. He glared at Amelia with a practiced scowl, but her continuous laughter made him cave. He couldn’t be upset with her.

“Ya’ sneaky, lil’ thang! Whatchu do that fa’?!”

“You said the water looks nice! Had to show ya’!”

Stack splashed water in Amelia’s direction. She tried swimming away, but Stack caught up with her. He circled his arms around her waist, trapping her. Beneath the water, Stack could feel her backside brush against his crotch. Dispite her skin being covered in pond water, the faint smell of sweet peaches lingered on her neck.

“Think you slick, huh?” Stack whispered in her ear.

“Slick enough to double cross a gangster…”

Stack loosened his grip around her waist. He backed away and Amelia paddled over to him. Water collected on his lashes, curling them. Brown skin glistening as liquid glossed his bottom lip. Amelia swayed forward, somehow guided by the water.

“Feels good, right?”

Stack stroked the water with his arms.

“Yeah, Princess.”

Amelia gave him a bashful smile.

Stack’s eyes fell to her lips.

“…I wanna kiss you.”

Amelia tucked her chin, “I’m sure you do, Stack.”

“Elias.”

Amelia blinked at him softly. She circled around, Stack following her. An evening wind picked up, blowing pussy willow into the pond. Some of it latched onto Amelia’s hair.

“I like Stack…rolls of the tongue real nice,” Amelia arched a brow, “No please?”

“C’mere…before I take it.” Stack said with a grin.

“You take often…”

Amelia glided over to him. Close. The flesh of her breasts feathered against his pecs. Stack sank his teeth into his bottom lip.

Amelia trekked her hands over his shoulders, “What about me makes you go crazy?”

Stack swept his eyes over her face. He wanted to touch her. Consume her.

“Can’t explain it,” He huffed, “You just…make a nigga weak. And I ain’t known you a day.”

“Crushin’ on me?” Amelia beamed, “Really?”

“Fuck you mean really. You gorgeous.”

Stack thumbed Amelia’s chin.

“You just want me to say it. Look at you, eating it up. Like a Princess.” Stack said.

“What can I say, I love praises.” Amelia bat her lashes.

She tired to swim away again but Stack gripped her elbow.

“Where you goin’?”

Both arms in his grip, he leaned in, face fo face with her, noses touching. Amelia stared into his eyes deeply. Her breasts fully flattened against his chest.

“Let me go, Stack…”

Amelia wiggled. Stack chuckled sinisterly.

Her breath hitched.

His pillow soft lips pecked her cheek. Amelia exhaled.

“See,” Stack locked his gaze on her, searing hot, “I got my kiss.”

He released her arms. Amelia tracked his movements in the water. Stack backstroked towards the edge of the pond. Fireflies began to commune, circling above them with their bioluminescence. Amelia swam over to him. Stack felt her presence, facing her. He flashed her a charming smirk with a single dimple.

Amelia draped her arms over his shoulders and then her legs around his waist. Stack’s thick fingers rubbed along Amelia’s waistline, outlining the flare of her hips and the dip in her spine. He was acutely aware that her vulva, pouty and rounded, was situated against his clothed dick. That made his dick jump. She was a true ethereal vision and the reverence in his eyes must've stalled any thoughts she may have had of him being a creep watching her.

“You were in the war,” Amelia stroked the circular dog tag hanging from Stack’s neck.

“Me and Smoke.”

“Must of been awful…”

Stack gave Amelia a one shoulder shrug, “I had my brother with me. All that other shit don’t matter. The war did teach us how to fight. How to fire a gun. But it reminded us that we still the same even to them foreigners…”

Stack flashed Amelia a charming smile, “this water gettin’ cold.”

“We can get out.”

Amelia tried to separate herself from Stack but he wasn’t ready to let her go so easily.

“Come back to my place tonight.”

Amelia arched a single brow, “You askin’ or telling me?”

“Princess,” Stack replied with a laugh, “C’mon, baby…let Smoke and Annie be. Unless you wanna hear them fucking all damn day and night.”

Amelia splashed water on Stack. He chuckled at her attempts at annoyance.

“So you can fuck me?” Amelia flashed Stack a knowing smile, “I ain’t one to be tricked.”

Stack let Amelia go. She swam to the edge and lifted her body from the water. The shine of the moon highlighted the beauty of her sinewy body. He stood still in the pond, watching the water flow down her body. Amelia rung out her hair while staring down at Stack in the pond. Everything on her body was a mouthful. That shape almost made him bark like an alpha.

“You comin’ out or what?”

Stack glided over to the edge and pushed himself up. Immediately he felt weighed down from his clothes being soaked. Amelia wrapped her towel around her body, hiding away all that mouth watering goodness. He’d never seen a pussy with hair like hers. A patch of swirls perfectly groomed above a puffy slit.

Amelia tossed him the towel.

Stack removed his shirt and pants. Amelia got dressed while watching the way Stack’s dick looked outlined by his white boxer shorts. He was good and solid. Annie’s words from earlier echoed in her mind. It’s been a while for her. And after catching a glimpse of what the SmokeStack Twins carried…

Definitely heavy artillery.

Nathaniel gave Amelia what she assumed was good dick. Most of their tryst were sneaky link ups, quick and easy. And boy, was Nathaniel a quick pumper. Couldn’t last long enough to make Amelia cum. Annie’s lips and fingers did more than Nathaniel’s pecker. Something about Smoke and Stack carried much more. She needed to experience it. Jezebel be damned. It was in the way Smoke held his pipe after lighting it. The way he tracked Amelia like a predator to his prey. Stack’s suave demeanor and toothpick–laden mouth. Attentive eyes and knowing hands.

“Race me to the house. If you win, I’ll come home wit’ you.”

“Now hold on—”

Amelia took off running. Stack cursed something fierce. He snatched up his shoes, socks, and shirt before sprinting after Amelia. She could hear his heavy footsteps darting toward her. She whisked away as fast as she could, between trees and blades of grass. The house came into view, and Amelia turned to look behind her.

Stack was on her heels. He picked up speed, Amelia screeching like a banshee. His arms captured her waist and Stack tossed her over his shoulder. Amelia saw the world upside down, eyes blurry from being spun around.

“You put me down, Stack!”

Stack lifted her in the air by her waist.

Just like in those romance novels Amelia read.

Amelia clung to his shoulders, staring down at Stack beyond her frizzy curls. His strong hands brought her down and she circled his waist with her thighs.

He excited her. Made her skin prickly with lust.

“Gimme some tongue before I change my mind.” Amelia ordered with a sigh.

Stack thrust his slick tongue into her mouth. His lips were moist and soft. Tongue warm and skillful. Amelia sucked on his lips and mixed her saliva with his. Stack’s thick fingers tangled in her curls. He groaned into her mouth and thrust his hips. Sloppy lips covered in spit. It was a heated kiss that left Amelia dizzy. Their teeth clashed and Stack hissed.

He broke away from her, “I win,” Stack exhaled, “You coming with me.”

Amelia simply nodded her head.

He wasn’t asking. He was telling.

Amelia hung her head against the car door. Stack stopped in front of a cozy home with a wrap–around porch and a tree swing. Tucked behind the home was a shed, and Amelia could make out grave stones. Stack killed the ignition and hopped out the car all improper because he did what he wanted. Like the world was his playground. He jogged over to Amelia’s side of the car and opened the door for her. He was halfway tempted to lift her out of her seat, but Amelia declined with all giggly.

Stack grasped her dainty hand in his calloused one and they urged forward. Amelia darted her eyes around the property, trying to make out the head stones and what they’d read. Stack tugged on her arm gently and she climbed the stairs to the front entrance. Stack unlocked the door and held it open for Amelia to enter first.

This rural home was more spacious than Annie’s. Amelia took it as the Twins needed a place to do business with more leg room. Amelia could tell that the home had been renovated and properly cleaned. Stack most likely hired someone to take care of the place while they were gone. Amelia slipped off her leather, ballerina flats, walking barefoot along the carpet that felt so soft and lush beneath her feet.

“Persian,” Stack emptied his pockets onto a heavy duty wooden table covered in playing cards, a pocket watch, coins, and a half drunken glass of whiskey, “Snagged it from my apartment back in Chicago.”

“It’s nice.”

Amelia sauntered over to a piano. She absentmindedly pressed keys, the different notes titillating her ears. She could feel Stack’s heat against her back. Amelia looked up and over her shoulder at him. Stack went in for another kiss and then he wrapped an arm around her curvy waist.

“Whose piano?”

“…My Pops.”

“You play?”

Stack scuffed, “Hell nah. When he was breathing, he ain’t like me and Smoke touching it. Used to get so fucking angry ‘bout it.”

“So, why you keep it?”

“Adds personality to this place. Might get Delta Slim to come on over and play a tune for us sometime,” Stack jokes.

“Delta Slim?” Amelia gave Stack a quizzical look.

“Harmonica man. Unc.”

“Okay,” Amelia slipped away from Stack, “Where you sleep?”

Stack removed his toothpick from his mouth and pointed behind Amelia. She whirled around to face a short hall that led to a room with the door left ajar. Amelia made her way down the hallway, Stack behind her. She pushed open the door, standing at the entryway.

“So…this you?”

“Is. You like it?”

“Pretty snazzy. Definitely all you.” Amelia replied.

Amelia took a seat on Stack’s bed and rubbed her hands against the soft quilt. Stack watched her closely, twirling the toothpick in his mouth. Amelia leaned back against her hands.

“I need to freshen up before we…you know…”

Amelia flashed Stack a timid glance.

“Got just the thang for ya’ princess.”

Stack reached for her hand. Amelia interlocked her fingers with his. Stack led the way out into the yard. It was nothing but overgrown grass. Amelia noticed that Stack was leading her towards two rectangular wooden structures. One of them had a crescent moon carved into it. The other a star.

“This here is the outhouse,” Stack pointed to the one with the moon, “right here’s the shower.”

Stack opened the door to the shower room. Amelia peeked inside. She was impressed.

“Water ain’t hot though. But it gets the job done.”

“Perfect…”

Amelia thumbed the thin straps of her lavender chemise over her shoulders before shimmying her hips to get the rest of the slip off. Once again, she stood deliciously nude before Stack. Amelia swept some of her hair behind her ear before stepping forward and entering the shower room.

Stack followed the sway of her backside, each cheek moving like jello. Amelia pulled a chain and the cold water hit her breasts, causing her to jump back.

“Told you, Princess.”

Stack shrugged his shirt off. Then his pants. Then his white boxer shorts that weren’t so white no more. His shoes came last, and then he stepped into the shower room behind Amelia. Stack reached around to open a little makeshift compartment that held linen rags and some Palmolive.

Amelia shivered like she’d been thrust into Antarctic waters. Her erect nipples sat rigid and uncomfortably hard while goosebumps decorated her chestnut skin. Her tangled curls were damp against her scalp again. Stack traded places with her to rinse off. He was used to the ice cold water. Amelia lathered her rag and began scrubbing away the algae and musk of being outside and swimming in the pond.

She allowed her curious eyes to sweep over Stack. Everything was identical to Smoke except for a long, jagged scar situated along the lateral side of his body. Amelia pressed her fingertips against it. Stack watched her. She was brought back to the present when Stack’s growing member tapped her hip.

“War scars. They run deeper. More so in Smoke than me.”

Amelia finished cleansing herself and offered to wash Stack’s back. He turned, placing his hands against the wall of the shower room. Amelia washed his broad back in a circular motion. She finished and rung out the rag before placing it neatly next to hers. Stack quickly rinsed his back off before turning off the water. There was a tub behind the shower room that provided water. It was nearly empty.

They left the shower room and Stack carried Amelia through the yard, bodies still soaking wet but warming up from the Mississippi heat. The air smelled like rain and the early morning clouds were a stormy gray. Stack put Amelia down and grabbed a towel from a folded laundry basket. She did a quick dry before tossing it to Stack.

The reality of what was about to happen settled into her bones. Her shoulders pulled back and her spine became stiff. Her stomach did somersaults. Her vulva twitched with anticipation. Stack tossed the towel and stared down at Amelia. She swallowed spit. He simply smirked at her.

“Nervous?”

Amelia poked Stack, “Why? you askin’? That make you happy?”

“It does. I’m ‘bout to show you why they call me Big Daddy.”

Stack hoisted Amelia up and forced her legs around his waist. The mingled heat of their sex caused her to burry her face against his neck. Stack peppered soft, reassuring kisses along her exposed skin.

They were back in his room, and Amelia felt the patchwork of the quilt against her back. Stack kneeled between her legs. He cupped both full breasts in his hands and mushed them together. His thumbs stroked her nipples.

“You got a body on you, baby. I just wanna eat you up.”

Stack feasted on her nipples. Amelia squirmed.

“I bet that pussy nice and wet right now,” Stack whispered.

Amelia didn’t have to guess that Stack was nice and solid because she felt that nine–inch pole poking her. Tension settled over her body once more. Stack could sense it.

“You ain’t no virgin is you?” Stack questioned with an elevated brow.

“No.” Amelia replied with a sigh.

“Aight then. So you know what typa’ time I’m on, Princess. Ain’t no patience ‘round here I’m tryna break you down.”

Amelia shivered.

“Open up,” He placed his hands on her knees, “Time to taste that sweet puss…”

How would Stack’s tongue compare to Annie’s?

Amelia spread her thighs and Stack settled onto his stomach. She opened up like a blooming flower, pretty pussy glistening before his eyes. Stack licked his greedy lips before diving in to devour her.

Amelia reached both of her hands up to grip the pillow beneath her head. She stared up at the ceiling, unable to bring herself to watch him eat her. She was missing out on an erotic visual experience.

Stack’s slick tongue did wondrous things to her pussy.

His lips, so full and succulent, glided across her slippery folds in a rhythm that had her moaning.

Not too hard. Not too fast.

She felt herself leaking.

Her hips began gyrating.

“Mhm,” Stack hummed with an egotistical expression.

Amelia dropped a hand to his coily bush and gripped the thick strands as best as she could. The part in his hair was somewhat visible. Amelia’s inner thighs began to quake and Stack wasn’t having that. He spread her wider.

“Fuck, Stack…”

He tongued her pussy so good Amelia felt tears brim her eyes. The closer she got to cumming, Stack rubbed his nose along her button. She looked down and directly into his eyes. If she’s the princess, then Stack is her servant.

“I’m on that spot, pretty baby?”

Amelia replied with a meek “Yes.”

Amelia tightened the hold she had on his thick hair and started feeding Stack pussy. He had her pussy talking, making gushy sounds of music. He was intoxicated from the taste and feel of her pussy on his tongue. Stack’s eyes were hazy slits and his mustache shined from her sticky juices.

“You ain’t too far, give me that shit…”

Amelia let go of his hair and sat up on her elbows.

“This my pussy, Princess?” He spoke between licks, “This my pussy.” He declared with a possessive smile.

Amelia replied with a drawn out moan.

Stack wiggled his tongue deep into her, the sensation tickling her navel with overwhelming intensity. She shoved at his forehead, but that neck was too strong.

“STACK! StackStackStackStack—I’m cumming for you!”

Amelia twisted her hips, but Stack’s grip on her thighs kept her right where he wanted her. Her continuous cries of ecstasy urged him to keep going.

“S'il vous plaît!!”

Stack eased off her button, drawing his lips back slowly to kiss along her inner thighs. His lips trailed cum and spit along her skin. Amelia felt herself clench around nothing, walls anxious for big dick. She was more than ready with her wetness. Stack sank his teeth into her skin and sucked. His thick fingers rubbed on her button.

“Ouch!” Amelia replied with a giggle.

“You’re such a good girl, Princess.”

Stack lifted up and when Amelia got a look at his dick she almost choked on her own spit.

Nathaniel who?

She’d NEVER seen dick that big. Stack kissed her as a distraction. While Amelia slipped him some tongue, Stack’s arms circled her thighs and with his skills, he lined himself up with Amelia’s pussy, impatient hips ready to shove all that big dick deep enough. He wanted to feel all that candy–coated sticky on him. From tip to balls.

Amelia slipped away from Stack’s mouth when he began folding her legs back hard enough to lock her in place. She didn’t have time to catch her breath when he thrust in. Amelia squealed so loud from the intrusive nature.

“Ooo? You nice and tight!”

The girth of him tugged on her clit. Stretched her wide enough to invoke panic. Annie warned her. Amelia wasn’t prepared.

“Stop tryna push me out.”

Amelia clawed his biceps.

“Shit! I got myself a gripper.” He chuckled.

Stack sucked on Amelia’s neck.

“Stack, you so big…”

He pulled out to the tip. The fullness she’d felt disappeared. For a moment, she was able to breathe easily.

Stack stared down at her, “This your first big dick?”

The teasing lilt of his voice pricked her.

“It is. Look at the mess you made.”

Amelia glanced down between her legs. She painted Stack’s dick creamy.

“Bet you ain’t know you could do all that, huh?”

Stack’s fingers played in her cum–covered pubic hair. He gave her a second to catch her breath. He stroked between her folds before his tip sat at her entrance. Amelia shut her eyes. Stack slowly invaded her again.

When he started thrusting faster, Amelia almost screamed. Stack interlocked his fingers between her toes and plowed her into the mattress. The more he fed her wet pussy some dick, the more Amelia cried for more.

“DADDY!”

“That’s right, you used to this dick now, I see that little pussy!”

Stack was hitting that bottom. As soon as he did that, Amelia sprung a leak. She didn’t have a chance to register what happened because seconds later she was cumming so hard on his dick she lost the ability to speak.

Stack’s eyes shined with lust at the sight of her cumming on his dick.

He slipped out and Amelia opened her eyes, blinking to focus.

“You got some good pussy, Princess.”

“So I’ve been told,” Amelia replied with a smile.

“Taste you on this dick,” Stack pointed his dick towards her mouth.

Amelia licked her mess from his dick before sucking as much as she could.

Stack had her pussy wide open. So open.

“I want you on top.”

Amelia sought his gaze with her tongue in his slit. He chuckled at the look of excitement in her eyes.

“C’mon, Princess. Sit on your throne.”

Stack settled onto his back and kept his dick pointed to the ceiling. Amelia threw her leg over him and bent forward.

“Hold your cheeks open…there ya’ go, baby…”

Amelia gasped when Stack pushed into her from a different angle. When she was fully seated on his dick, Stack popped her on the ass to get moving. Her doe eyes connected with his while she rode the tip.

“That shit feelin’ good…squeezing on my tip like that…you nasty bitch…”

Amelia rocked back and forth until she could easily ride his length. Her thick hips jiggled from the momentum. Stack was meeting her with his own thrusts. Hands on her waist, he dug his heels into the bed.

“You gon’ make me cum! Woo, shit,” Stack popped Amelia on her rump, “Gahdamn!”

Amelia bounced, titties jumping, pussy gripping, hair wild.

“STACK!”

Stack plowed up into her. The bed rocked. He growled into her ear. Amelia cried out.

“That’s it, Princess! Fuck, I’m a cum!”

Amelia shot up off his dick and wrapped her lips around him. Stack palmed the back of her head and forced as much of his big dick down her throat as he could. Amelia gagged and coughed, his warm cum painting the back of her throat.

“Drank all that shit down!” Stack commands.

Amelia struggled. She pushed off of him, cum oozing down her chin.

“You cum a lot,” Amelia wiped her mouth off with her fingers, “my throat hurt.”

“That pussy hurt too, don’t it?”

Amelia swatted Stack’s arm. She was indeed sore, but beyond that, she craved more of him. She needed more.

“I wanna go again,” Amelia cuddled against Stack’s side, drawing circles along his chest.

“In a minute, baby. I’m tired.”

Amelia peeked at Stack. He had his eyes closed while stroking her soft back. It didn’t take long for him to fall asleep. Amelia closed her eyes and drifted off into her own slumber.

Roosters crowed. The birds chirped. Bleats of sheep in the distance. Church bells rang.

Annie awoke.

Smoke’s obnoxious snoring pierced her ears. Annie lifted his heavy arm from around her waist as she climbed out of bed. Underworked muscles ached as she stretched her arms and legs. She slithered her feet into a pair of slippers and grabbed a robe from her wardrobe, securing it around her waist as best as she could. It fit her snuggly, large, pendulous breasts fighting to break through. Annie had lost her scarf in the middle of sleep, frizzy coils smashed to her head.

She made her way out into the main area of the home and sauntered over to the open flame. Grabbing a tea kettle, she filled it with water before placing it on a hook. Annie made a fire. The flame grew before her eyes. She entered the yard when she’d heard a sound.

The night men were late. They waved to Annie after collecting the waste receptacle from her outhouse, replacing it with a clean one. She took that opportunity to use the bathroom. After reliving herself, Annie prepared fresh bath water in the large iron tub on her back porch. It took her a minute to fill from a well in her yard, but at least she didn’t have to worry about it until the following day.

Still, Smoke slept. Probably the most sleep he’d had in a long time.

Annie took a quick bath standing up before drying off. She put her robe back on and covered her hair with a head wrap. She decided to prepare some ham and eggs for breakfast. There was still some left over corn bread as well. The tea kettle steamed, and Annie pulled coffee from her cupboard for Smoke. Cast iron skillets greased and ready to go, Annie went to wake Amelia.

She knocked on her door.

“Lia?” Annie called out beyond the door.

She tried knocking again.

Annie turned the doorknob.

Empty. Unkept bed. Forlorn blankets on the floor.

Annie pursed her lips. It didn’t take much to put two–and–two together.

Amelia and Elias were having their own fun.

She hoped Amelia would return for her lesson. But then again, Stack was probably fucking her so good she didn’t give a damn about her final learnings on Red Magick.

Annie shut the door behind her and went to prepare breakfast. As she pan seared the ham and fried the eggs, her mind continued to wander. The immediate desire between Stack and Amelia at dinner made her slightly jealous. She knew the effect Stack had on women. Hell, Annie was almost swept up into it.

Oven mitt in hand, she grabbed the cast iron from the flame.

Would she still want Annie’s pussy against her own?

Annie had wanted to try that with Amelia next. Rubbing pussies together.

The thought of her returning with Stack’s dick print molded into her lush walls stroked the green evil riding her shoulder. Annie NEVER felt like this for a woman. But she felt it. She couldn’t ward off the temptation. Annie pat sweat from her forehead before setting the table. Smoke’s tulips sat in a vase in the center of the table. Annie stroked the petals with a smile.

Her Smoke.

Annie made her way into their room. The sun shined through the window, igniting the body of her husband, still fast asleep. She looked down on him from the foot of the bed. Beyond the thin sheets, Annie could see Smoke’s morning wood. Annie slowly pulled the sheets away, revealing a mouthful.

She knelt one leg between his, and used her mouth to grab hold of him, sucking him down with a hollow of her cheeks. Smoke’s face frowned, eyelids fluttering open. He could hardly open his eyes, but his hand cradled the back of Annie’s head.

Slurping noises filled the room. The bed creaked.

“Annie, shit…”

His sleepy voice was so pleasant.

Smoke flexed his muscles when Annie swallowed him whole.

“Ahhh–huh–hhh…”

Annie fisted his big dick while sucking. Smoke poked out his bottom lip.

“I’m sensitive, baby—”

Annie knew this. But she kept on going. Smoke’s tight nuts sat against her chin the more she deep–throated.

“Fuck, Annie…”

Smoke’s hips stuttered out of control. Annie hummed, creating a sensation that had Smoke groaning.

She emptied his balls.

“Got me cumming already, huh?” Smoke said with a raspy voice.

Smoke gripped Annie by the neck. She stuck her tongue out and he sucked on it. She stroked him with both hands while they tongue kissed.

“You getting this dick, you know that?” He whispered against her lips.

Hand still around her neck, Smoke got between Annie’s legs. He snatched her robe tie off, both hefty breasts free and sitting fat. Smoke grunted, hiking her legs up in a frenzy.

“You want in this pussy so bad, look at you…”

Smoke locked eyes with her. He thrust forward and buried himself to the hilt in Annie. Her breath escalated and her eyes fluttered at the feeling of Smoke’s dick.

“So good, so, so, good.” Annie said between moans.

Smoke had his lip between his teeth and his hands all over her big titties, stomach, hips, thighs. Anywhere he could grab onto.

“Don’t make no gahdamn sense…”

Annie let her man dominate her pussy. Her elekes wrapped around her titties from how fierce Smoke worked her pussy.

“I missed my baby…I missed you Annie…”

All while making love to her so good Annie could only moan. Her sweet cries of pleasure.

“Elijah!” Annie squeaked.

He had a hold of her big tail with his strong hands.

“Don’t hold back, baby, cum on Big Smoke’s dick.”

His shit talking had her speaking Creole.

Annie coated his shaft with her cum.

“Ooof—SHIT!!!!”

Smoke erupted. He made sure to stay buried. Painting her walls.

“Baby, shit,” Smoke heaved, “Shit so good…”

Annie kissed Smoke’s fluffy lips before pushing him away.

“Got breakfast on the table.”

Smoke snatched up his boxer shorts. He slipped into them and went on the hunt for his smoke pipe. He found it, inspecting it before sucking his teeth.

“Shit need to be cleaned out.” He fussed.

“Stack left you pre–rolled cigarettes.”

Annie shoved on her robed and wrapped it around her voluptuous body before exiting the room. She walked on unsteady feet to the table. Smoke appeared with his dick poking the front of his boxer shorts. He left to brush his teeth while Annie went out to sweep the front porch. She grabbed one of her brooms and swept away, removing dirt, leaves, and any other debris.

She checked on her rue, rosemary, and St. John’s Wart before walking back inside to join her husband for breakfast. Smoke puffed on a cigarette, taking sips of his black coffee. His plate was cleaned off, nothing but crumbs and smeared egg yoke left behind.

“You goin’ down to the store today?”

“Yes. I have some bundles to prepare. If Amelia comes back, we gotta finish up a lesson.”

Smoke looked like a fire breathing dragon with the way the cigarette smoke billowed from his nose.

“She gone?”

Annie gave Smoke a look.

“…She left with Stack?”

“Mhm.”

Smoke scuffed, “That nigga couldn’t help himself.”

“Can you blame him?” Annie said.

Smoke ashes out his cigarette.

“She must got a pussy made of pure gold the way ya’ll acting.” Smoke argued.

“Thought you wasn’t gonna be all upset?”

“I ain’t upset. Just curious. Remember how you told me stories ‘bout sex demons?”

“Smoke, she ain’t no succubus.” Annie argued.

“She a floozy.”

“And? What’s wrong wit’ that?” Annie fired back.

“Getting all bent outta shape, I’m just teasing.”

Annie rolled her eyes, “Elijah, I ain’t for your games. I gotta get ready. You gon’ be here or no?”

“Not for long. Once Stack pull his tongue outta Amelia ass we got business in town.”

Annie cleared the table. Smoke got up, rushing over to Annie.

“I’ll handle this. Go on.”

He kissed Annie’s neck and slapped her on the behind.

Annie sauntered into the room while Smoke cleaned. Lit cigarette between his lips, his thoughts drifted to Amelia.

First his wife, now his little brother.

He felt an emptiness. Something he tried to shake.

That Louisiana Bayou swept little Miss Amelia to the Delta bringing hot pussy and babydoll eyes with her.

Last night, while Smoke was wedged between Annie’s legs and balls deep, he looked up and caught Amelia watching him. She locked eyes with him through the mirror, and Smoke smirked at her. She slipped away into the darkness, and since then, Smoke couldn’t get the visual of her face frowned and hand between her legs out of his gahdamn head.

He wanted to pull on all that hair. Treat her how she deserved for coming in and making a mess of things. She wanted dick and pussy? He was gonna give it to her. But on his watch. Teach her hottie–tottie ass a real lesson.

Hoodoo Apprentice turned Sex Apprentice.

Smoke’s feet carried him out into the yard where he allowed the dishes to dry. Annie appeared wearing a teal–blue dress that flared at the hips and hung from her shoulders. She wore a white headscarf and tiny gold hoops in her ears. Around her neck was a gold necklace Smoke gifted her.

“You look beautiful, baby.”

Smoke kissed her forehead.

“Thank you,” Annie ran a hand over his mojo bag, “I love you, Smoke.”

“I love you too.”

They fell into a kiss. Smoke pressed his body against Annie’s, reminding her once again that his body never forgot her. Hard dick tickled her and his tongue mingled with hers. She broke the kiss with a shaky breath.

“I gotta go…”

Smoke bent forward and snaked a hand up the front of Annie’s dress, stroking her pussy lips. Bare pussy lips.

“This for me? I’ll come down there and bend you over…”

Annie knew the routine. No panties. When Smoke wanted it, no restrictions.

“Glad you know who you belong to…”

Smoke whacked her on the rump.

“Get on down to the store.”

Annie pulled away reluctantly. Smoke puckered his lips and blew her a kiss.

That made Annie blush.

He watched her walk down the dirt trail to the Shack until she dissipated.

Smoke returned inside the home and turned his gaze towards Amelia’s room.

He walked forward and opened the door.

Sweet peaches. Hibiscus.

It smelled so much like her. He took slow strides toward her vanity. The mirror there was shattered at the edges. Smoke puffed on his cigarette while using his other hand to open her jewelry box.

It was a music box. Soft lullabies filtered out. He lifted a pearl necklace with his finger, stroking it. Shutting the box, Smoke picked up a perfume bottle, sniffing it.

That’s where that sugary smell came from. He took another whiff before placing it back where he’d found it.

He glanced around her room before his nosy gaze fell upon her half open wardrobe. Smoke gripped the edge of his cigarette between his lips and opened the wardrobe with both hands.

Satin. Breathable cotton. Lace.

Pastels. Florals. White.

Nothing that stood out to him…except…

A pair of cotton panties fell from its hiding place. Smoke took a step back and crouched down to pick them up. He removed the cigarette from between his lips, the smoke clouding his vision.

He gathered the panties in his hand and brought them to his nose to smell.

Tangy. Slightly sweet. Earthy.

His dick chubbed up immediately. Smoke felt a heat creeping up his spine. He tossed her panties back in the wardrobe and closed the doors slightly. As he moved over to a pile of books situated on top of a travel bag, the fragrance of her pussy lingered in his mustache.

Smoke sifted through an array of books until he came upon what looked like a journal.

Brown leather. Yellowing pages. Her name embroidered in gold.

Amelia Selene Broussard.

Smoke flipped the pages until he landed on the last entry.

Dear Diary,

This is a quick entry. He’s returned. Annie’s husband.

Smoke.

Chaos. Mystery.

As I move about, I can’t help but to wonder while also fear him.

Annie loves him. I can see it in her eyes. I can hear it in her voice.

I watched them make love in the shack today.

It was beautiful. And for a second, I got to see Smoke’s vulnerability.

I sense he doesn’t like me very much. Maybe he can smell his wife’s essence on my body.

This will be an interesting circumstance…

The sound of a car approaching caused Smoke to abruptly shut her Diary, placing it back where he’d gone snooping. Smoke left her room and walked towards the window in the drawing room.

Stack opened Amelia’s door for her. She clasped his hand and stepped out. Amelia tried walking away, but Stack pulled her back against him, trapping her.

They spoke closely, and then Smoke watched his little brother tongue Amelia down.

Amelia shoved Stack before sprinting to the steps. Stack caught up to her, wrapping an arm around her waist before climbing the steps.

Smoke opened the door before they could.

Two pairs of eyes met his.

It was after three in the afternoon.

Amelia was sleeping soundly.

That was, until she’d heard angry whispers.

Stack’s side of the bed is vacant. Amelia threw the quilt back from her naked body. She searched for her lavender chemise, unable to find it.

So she grabbed Stack’s white button down shirt.

Amelia did a lazy button job before she tip toed to the bedroom door. Opening it slow and steady, she could see Stack’s back at the entrance to the house. He waved his hands animatedly, clearly fussing with someone. Amelia entered the hall to make out the other voice.

She caught onto a feminine voice.

“Seven years, Stack! Do you understand how that made me feel? I waited for you! No letter! Nothing!”

“We found you a rich, white husband in Arkansas! You got what you wanted! Stop blaming me for what happened! We was never gon’ be together, Mary.”

Mary laughed bitterly, “Oh, Stack. You and Smoke forced me to Mary that man—”

“You grown enough to make ya’ own decisions! Hell, ya’ could’ve said no!”

“The both of ya’ll gave me no choice! You wanted to keep me safe, right? Do you know how hard it’s been to lay next to a man I don’t love? To fuck a man I don’t love?”

“But you spending his money. Eating that good steak. Driving his car! A car he bought ya’ ! So who’s unhappy?”

“My momma died, and all you can do is treat me like I ain’t mean nothing to you? What about all the times we shared? You forget that? Spending days in this house!”

Amelia scuffed.

“Listen to me, Mary. I’m a always love you. But—But this —this thing we used to have is long gone. You somebody else’s. It ain’t safe for you to be in the Delta. I’m sorry ‘bout your momma. She was a good woman. But…Mary, whatchu want me to say?”

Silence. So quiet you could hear a pin drop.

Then came the sniffles.

Amelia rolled her eyes with disdain.

Stack wasn’t even her man, and yet this entire situation irritated her. Clearly, he still had feelings for the woman.

A white woman at that. Amelia folded her arms and waited for Stack’s reaction to the rehearsal of tears.

“Mary…hey…c’mon now. Listen, I’m sorry. Sorry I hurt ya’…”

Amelia inched closer. She needed to see how this woman looked. She crept to the window, peeling back the curtain.

Peachy skin. Button nose. Rosebud lips. Shoulder length, bouncy brunette hair. Trim body with subtle curves. Dark brown eyes.

Mary wore a striped deep v-neck patchwork dress in black and white with a matching black cloche hat decorated with a white flower. White satin opera gloves with a lace trimming covered her hands. A tiny black purse in her right hand. Sheer pantyhose and black and white Olina pumps on her feet.

She rubbed tears from her cheeks. Amelia was staring a bit too long. Mary turned towards her direction, and her eyes caught Amelia staring.

Her face immediately went from agonized to outraged.

A pretty octoroon.

“Who was that!?”

Mary tried to push past Stack at the door. Amelia remained against the wall.

“Whatchu talkin’ ‘bout?”

“I saw someone at the window. A woman.”

“Mary, ain’t nobody here!”

“Don’t lie to me, Stack! Move,” Mary shoved Stack, “Let me in!”

Mary whacked Stack with her purse and pushed her way inside. Amelia stood frozen.

Mary faced her with vengeance.

This was not a part of the plan. The plan was to get some good dick. Not get caught up in a forbidden love triangle.

But didn’t Amelia always?

Stack shut the door while rubbing the side of his face where Mary’s purse struck him. He cut his eyes to Amelia, appearing apologetic.

“Who the hell is this?” Mary questioned grumpily.

“I’m Amelia. I take it you’re Mary?” Amelia replied with a jaded expression.

“I am,” she fixed Stack with a chagrined smile, “this your new piece of ass?”

Amelia lifted from the wall defensively. She appeared in front of Mary, hands on her hips, staring her up and down boldly. Mary’s hands curled into fists at her side and she rolled her shoulders back, chin up like she was better.

“Aight now, Mary, time to get!”

Stack reached for her arm but Mary pushed him away.

“Go to hell, Elias!”

Amelia fluttered away with a roguish smile.

“You think this bitch can replace me?”

“MARY!”

Amelia was unfazed. She sat on one of Stack’s arm chairs, crossed one shapely leg over the other, and reclined back like she owned the place.

Doe eyes be damned, Amelia could easily drag Mary by her uppity hair, but what was the point? Not her business. Not her man. No fucks given. Stack was clearly a man that did what he wanted. From what Amelia overheard last night, he was selling ass in Little Rock. Probably did the same shit in Chicago. Hell, he could have a baby or two somewhere.

“Fine. FINE. I’m leaving!”

“Shoulda been left!” Stack shouted.

Mary regained her composure before fluffing her hair. She strutted to the door, Stack opening it for her. Mary turned her eyes onto Amelia.

“Enjoy it while you can. He don’t stick around too long.”

Her derisive attitude did little to make Amelia feel any type of way.

“I will.” Amelia replied with a rapturous smile.

Mary turned her nose up before stomping away and down the stairs. Stack waited for her to drive off before shutting his door.

Awkward silence.

Amelia stood, quietly walking back to Stack’s room. Stack followed her with his eyes, watching her peel his shirt from her body. The sway in her hips and the cuff of her ass had him drooling. Amelia propped herself up in the doorway to his room, creating strong lines with her body, emphasizing her curves. An alluring smile painted her pouty lips and her doe eyes glistened with arousal.

“You coming in to finish fucking me or what?”

Stack took long strides to his room. Amelia ran inside, climbing up on his bed. Stack followed the sensual sway of her body. Arms above her head, waistline moving in slow motion, Stack watched her like she was on stage. He was her audience.

“You break hearts, Elias,” Amelia spoke in the middle of her erotic dance, “Don’t you?”

Stack licked his lips.

Amelia turned, poking her ass out. She swayed back and forth, looking down at Stack. He started taking off his pants, no boxer shorts on just dick and balls.

“You must’ve fucked Miss Mary so good before you left. Seven years of reminiscing on how that dick touched her heart in ways her husband couldn’t…”

“You’re so fucking sexy, darlin’…”

Amelia climbed down from the bed. Stack curled his finger for her to come to him. She did, gliding her hands up his chest.

“I woke up without your dick in me…why?” Amelia asked with a soft, whiny voice.

That did something to Stack.

He picked Amelia up, pointed his dick at her wet cooze, and slammed her down until she was filled. Stack had two handfuls of ass while he fucked her standing. Amelia bounced, arms circling his shoulders to hold on for the ride. Stack was hitting her bottom so good she was delighted. A smile stretched across her lips.

“Fuck this pussy, Stack! Fuck me!”

“Hot damn, baby! Tight ass pussy! Fuckin’ love this pussy!”

Amelia gleamed before a string of moans escaped her mouth.

“Take your pussy! Yes, Daddy!”

“You used to this dick now, huh?” Stack picked up the pace of his fucking, “I’m all deep in this wet shit…I’d fuck you all day if I could…good pussy…fuck, Princess…”

Amelia could feel him pulsating inside of her. The stretch and the way he continued to kiss her spot with his tip, she felt herself come undone. It was so overwhelming. He didn’t stop. Stack had her in a bear hug.

In and out…in and out…

More slip. A better glide. Increased sensation. She could feel it all. And it felt so good. He was close. Stack pressed his sweaty forehead against hers.

“You close, Daddy?”

“FUCK!”

Stack snatched Amelia off his dick and she dropped to her knees. Amelia poked her tongue out and stack sat his tip against it while jerking. He came all over her lips and tongue.

“You so nasty wit’ it, baby…”

Amelia cleaned him off.

“Satisfied?” Stack asked with a smirk.

“I could always use more…but you need to take me back to Annie’s.”

Amelia found her lavender chemise beneath the bed. Stack could go for another round.

“Annie be aight. She can hold it down.”

“I’ve had enough of you for now. My pussy need a good herbal bath. I’m sore.” Amelia said.

Stack locked his arms around Amelia’s waist. She tried to wiggle free.

“Let me go, Stack,” Amelia giggled from his kisses to her neck, “Stop it!”

“How you put that pussy on me and expect me to act right? Answer me that, gorgeous.”

“You’ll never get this pussy again if you don’t take me back to Annie’s! It’s late!”

Stack groaned before releasing Amelia.

“You lucky I got business wit’ Smoke. Otherwise, you’d be seated on this dick again.”

“Uh-huh.” Amelia rolled her eyes, “Let’s go playboy.”

A crack of thunder evoked fear into Ameila. She covered her ears and looked towards the window in Stack’s room with panic–stricken eyes.

“I don’t much like thunder…can we go?”

Stack’s probing eyes searched hers. The change in her demeanor concerned him. He grabbed a clean tank top and slipped into his white button down shirt. Pants secure and belt around his waist, stack put on his loafers before quickly leaving his room. Ameila put on her ballet flats and grabbed her handbag. Stack snatched his keys from the table before guiding Amelia out of the house with his hand on the small of her back.

It was windy and the sky was dark and cloudy. They rushed inside of the car and Stack drove off. Another crack of thunder pierced the sky. Amelia jumped in her seat. Stack placed an arm around her shoulder while driving with one hand. Ameila rested her head against his shoulder, nervously fiddling with her hands.

“We here…”

Stack slowed the car down to a complete stop. The thunder had gone away, but the sky still seemed gloomy.

A storm was expected.

“Thank you…”

Stack trapped Ameila against the car.

“You know we opening a Juke?”

Ameila tilted her head, “I do.”

“You coming I hope.”

“Maybe,” Amelia pushed at Stack’s chest, “get out my way, Stack.”

“That’s not so polite, Princess. Where your manners?”

“Long gone. Move before I bite that lip!”

“Do it.” Stack challenged with a gruff tone.

Ameila chomped at him. Stack gripped her chin and slipped her some tongue. Amelia couldn’t help but melt into the kiss. Their heads swiveled, Stack feeling up on Amelia’s behind. With him distracted, Ameila was able to shove him back. She made a beeline for the steps.

“I’m a get you!”

“Ahhhh!—”

Stack carried Amelia up the stairs with one arm.

The door opened.

Amelia’s breath hitched. Stack tilted his chin in greeting.

“What’s shakin’, nigga? Hope you don’t mind I stole this dame for one night…maybe more…”

Ameila whispered, “Stop.” Before drifting her eyes back to Smoke timidly.

“Made her feel welcome I hope.” Smoke said.

“Sure did. You know I got real good hospitality.”

Smoke kissed the back of Amelia’s hand.

“See ya’ soon, Princess. Go on in there before you melt.”

“Bye for now, Stack…”

Ameila fiddled with her dress before quickly entering the home. She brushed past Smoke, grazing his arm.

“I’ll catch you in about an hour or so. Gotta get this hair slicked up.”

“Don’t take too long, Stack. We got shit to do.” Smoke argued.

“Nigga, I know.”

Stack climbed back into his car and drove off.

Alone.

Ameila paced back and forth in her room. The rain beat down on the rooftop aggressively. She could hear Smoke moving about the house. She could smell the tobacco from beyond the door. Amelia nibbled on her bottom lip anxiously.

A bath would definitely help, but not with Smoke here.

She walked over to her vanity and took a seat. Ameila grabbed a brush and parted her long, thick strands before brushing out the tangled hair. A frizzy mountain of hair that reached the middle of her back.

Dewy–eyed and twitching with nervousness, Ameila made her way to the door again, opening it and entering the hall. She moved quietly out into the main area. No Smoke in sight.

That was, until she’d heard the sound of water sloshing on the back porch.

The rain hadn’t stopped, blanketing the garden. The droplets bounced off of the porch heavily and ferociously. A misty breeze picked up and tickled her skin the closer she got to the back door.

Curiosity always got the best of her.

She’d already been caught last night.

Annie and Smoke’s fucking kept her up. Stack was so tired and wasted from the beer, but Ameila assumed he was probably used to it. Ameila sat up in bed, listening to the two of them have sex. She climbed out of bed, careful not to wake Stack.

She left her room and snuck over to peek inside theirs.

And when she did, Smoke caught her eye.

And he smirked at her. Snidely.

Like he was silently telling her “Yeah…this my woman…let me show you who fucks her right.”

Ameila could never take that away from him.

He did fuck Annie right indeed.

And she stroked her clit to it. Openly.

Like a submissive little slut.

Showing him that she understood her place.

That Smoke was in charge.

Ameila’s stomach muscles warped at that memory. She peeked her head out and found Smoke taking a bath. He had his head reclined back with a cigarette between his lips. Smoke’s biceps bulged imposingly as they draped over the edge of the tub. His hair was covered with a press cap.

Amelia cleared her throat.

Smoke paused with the cigarette at his full lips. He slowly turned his eyes on Ameila. Seemingly displeased with her standing there and interrupting his bath.

“Sorry….I was just—just wondering if—did Annie mention anything about me going to the Shack?”

Smoke didn’t answer her right away. He took a hit of his cigarette first.

“She did…said you have a lesson to finish up on.”

“Thank you, Sir—I mean—thank you, Smoke.”

Ameila flashed Smoke a cowardly smile. Smoke’s stark face and perturbed eyes had such an effect on her. It made her want to obey.

“You good at cleaning pipes?”

Amelia flicked her gaze towards him, abashed.

“Cleaning pipes?”

“That’s what I said. I need my pipe cleaned out. Think you can do that for me?”

Smoke waited for her response. A devilish grin appeared on his lips.

“You ain’t got no clue what I’m talking bout?”

“No, sorry—”

“My smoke pipe.”

“Oh!” Amelia fluttered with a laugh, “I can do that for you.”

Smoke furrowed his brows, “Whatchu think I meant?”

“Not sure.” Amelia replied.

“Mhm,” Smoke motioned towards the door, “It’s on the table in there.”

Ameila disappeared inside the house. She found Smoke’s pipe and went on the hunt for Annie’s cleaning supplies. She knelt down on her hands and knees, searching the kitchen area. Ameila found some pipe cleaners and a cloth.

Back outside, Ameila situated herself on the chaise. As she cleaned, thoughts of Annie flooded her mind. The rain slowed down, sunlight attempting to break through the clouds.

Smoke began washing off. Ameila tried to focus, but she was clearly losing the battle. Her eyes raked over his upper body. She rubbed the same spot on his wooden pipe in a circular motion, caught in a trance. Smoke could feel her staring, because he turned to look at her.

Ameila dropped her attention to cleaning the pipe again.

But her heart raced.

Her breathing choppy.

She inspected the pipe thoroughly before standing.

“Good as new.” Ameila smiled.

“Let’s see how good you did,” Smoke motioned for her to come to him.

Ameila slowly approaches him. She extended her hand and Smoke grabbed the pipe.

The soap suds in the water swirled around his crotch.

“Almost look new. Thank you.”

“…You’re welcome.”

Ameila accepted the pipe back.

“I’ll place it on the table for you.”

“Yeah, do that,” Smoke eyed her up and down.

Amelia backed away.

She exhaled, making her way over to the table. Ameila sat the pipe down carefully. Birds chirped as the sunlight rose over the yard. Smoke appeared, towel sitting low on his hips. Amelia gawked at him before quickly regaining her composure. She busied herself with pouring a glass of water from the icebox.

“You was at my door last night. Care to explain that?”

Ameila’s stomach dropped. She couldn’t even take a sip of water.

“Smoke—Smoke I’m sorry—I didn’t mean to—”

“What are you?” Smoke questioned firmly.

“What am I?” Amelia replied with a quizzical expression.

“Ain’t that what I asked?” Smoke fired back.

“I’m a woman. I’m Annie’s friend. I’m…I’m Amelia.”

Smoke glared at Ameila. She cast her eyes to her feet.

“That ain’t all you are, darling. You see, I know about you. All about you. How you fucking my wife. Fucking my brother…”

Ameila ogled Smoke.

He did know. He’d known since the moment he laid eyes on her. His disgruntled eyes made her feel apologetic.

“I’m so sorry, Smoke, please…it wasn’t Annie’s fault. Don’t blame her. Blame me.”

Smoke crinkled his nose as his eyes dragged over her body.

“Please…I tempted her–I–I wanted her…”

Smoke narrowed his eyes at her.

“Despite all that shit…I can’t get you out my head.”

Ameila was visibly stunned by his words.

“What is it about you that makes them go crazy?”

Ameila was tight–lipped. She didn’t know how to respond to that. He was visibly agitated and hostile yet inquisitive and enthralled.

Smoke’s chest muscles flexed as he inched closer. Ameila gripped the edge of the table for balance. She mustered all her strength to look him in the eyes.

“What are we gon’ do ‘bout that?”

Smoke reached up and stroked Amelia’s chin with his thumb. A searing look crossed his face and it had Ameila spellbound.

“I…”

Her grip on the edge of the table tightened painfully.

Suddenly, he had her by the chin. Ameila gasped.

“Sluts like you get what they ask for…it’s best you tell me the truth…you want a taste of what Annie getting?”

Ameila’s bottom lip trembled, “Smoke—”

“No, no, no, no. You answer my question.”

“YES.” Ameila replied hastily.

“What make you think you deserve this dick?”

“Because I’m on your mind. Seems like you want it as bad as I do.” Amelia replied sassily.

Smoke wrapped his fist in her hair and pulled. Ameila hissed.

“Bad mouthing me? Watch ya’ mouth…”

“I’m sorry!”

“You ain’t sorry…turn around.”

Ameila faced the opposite way. The sound of his towel hitting the floor caused her to chew on her bottom lip.

“Smoke…”

Ameila quivered. She felt her pussy jumping. Pulsating with need. Smoke sat his dick between her cheeks. Ameila’s jaw dropped.

“Let’s see what we got here…”

Smoke’s fingertips lifted her chemise over her ass. The cool air brushed her pussy from behind, leaving goosebumps in its tracks.

With one powerful hand, Smoke nudged Ameila against the table. Cheek planted firmly, smoke pinned her arms behind her back with one hand securing her wrists.

“You smell like fresh sex.”

Ameila felt his fingers stroke her vulva from behind. She whimpered pathetically. Smoke found her button and rubbed it in a circular motion.

“Feel like it too. My little brother fucked you good I see,” Smoke pushed two fingers deep, “Uhuh…nice and wide.”

He didn’t hesitate finger–fucking her. Ameila felt tears roll over her nose and to the table.

“I’m digging in this pussy with my fingers, slut?”

“Yesssssssss….”

“Had my wife tongue all up in this shit…”

Smoke’s fingers slipped out. Ameila whimpered with need.

“Get up.”

Ameila stood on shaky feet.

She still hasn’t recovered from Stack’s dick putting a hurting on her cooze.

“Turn.”

Ameila faced Smoke. Her eyes fell to his dick.

Fat. Long. Curved to the left.

“Now,” Smoke forced his fingers with her pussy on it into her mouth, “Suck.”

Ameila sucked her mess off. Smoke’s fingers rubbed along her tongue and when they slipped from her mouth, a trail of spit followed. Ameila waited patiently for his next command, keen eyes slick with arousal. Smoke stroked her pouty lips with his thumb, memorizing the shape of them.

“Go take a bath.”

Amelia’s eyes filled with despair.

Smoke walked off, leaving Ameila alone and under his spell.

the before |

when it started, it was a sexual thing.

dim lighting. bodies packed in like sardines. clouds of cigarette hung above like a thick, storming brewing cloud. an crooning voice was the soundtrack to the absolutely sinful dancing that occurred. hips flushed against fronts— pestle and mortar. bump and grind.

it was truly, divine.

he noticed her first. leaning against a wooden column, after a long pull, blew a puff of smoke into the air. then she appeared— a vision amongst the clear.

on the other side of the room, she might as well have been standing right in front of him, the way the crowd melted away from his view. smoke had tunnel vision, his brain actively rewiring itself, altered chemistry, to note every detail of his mystery girl.

her dress was yellow, a literal sunspot amongst the fray of browns, grays, and other drab shades. she was curvy— just the way smoke liked. a real healthy figure, a full bosom, birthing hips, and a set of calves that smoke could have his way with.

got some meat on her bones.

her face was another story. the swells of her chubby cheeks held a cherubic quality that was rare, angelic even. a button nose, and full lips with a soft cupid’s bow. smoke liked the way her bottom lip was ever-so-slightly bigger than her top ones.

more to kiss on.

her eyes, big and bright held a some trouble in them. smoke liked that. trouble. she would give a run for his money, that he knew. those same lips held a soft smile, as she danced to the music. seeing his mystery girl in motion was magical. she moved in a way that intrigued smoke, he never seen someone move to in such a way. she was in sync with the rhythm and the timbre, yet it wasn’t the mississippi way of low and slow. the mystery girl was fast, moving her feet and limbs with precision. an indication that she wasn’t from here.

tennessee? or maybe the carolinas? further up north?

either way smoke wanted to know. he wanted to know her, her name, where her family’s from, even more intimately, was she shy? or would she let him stick his tongue in her—

all those thoughts were suspended when those same brown eyes smoke had fantasized about were staring back at him.

smoke’s mind might’ve been playing tricks, but he swore he saw a flicker of curiosity in her eyes. she stopped dancing, and stared. she didn’t bother to give smoke the infamous once over he gotten most of his adult life.

you look familiar? which one you is? stack or smoke? you such and such son, huh?

she simply regarded him.

that was different. she was different.

smoke took another pull, letting the cigarette smoke exhale from his nostrils. he gave a moment of brevity before nodding towards her. the mystery girl returned his nod, then in a blink, she vanished.

the abruptness of her departure, made smoke lift off the wooden column. his eyes scanned the crowd, his mystery girl, the sunshine amongst the drab, was gone. there was movement at the entrance-exit but it was too far a way to tell.

smoke cursed himself, instantly the color of the world around him muted. the air became too thick, and the music was suddenly too slow. he needed some air.

the night air was pleasantly crisp, which was rare for this time of year. even the slight breeze the nipped at his neck. it was rare night indeed. the gravely dirt crunched against his shoes. they were oxfords, stack told him, they look nice. he took heed of stack’s advice—smoke never cared much about fashion or how he looked that was his brother’s thing. as he walked towards his car, halfway he stopped. lady luck had shone down on him—there she was, his mystery girl standing by the big oak tree, looking outward to the lake. smoke pivoted, walking towards her.

the gravel-dirt switched to soft grass underneath smoke’s shoes the closer he got. he even slowed his movements not wanting to scare off his mystery girl. she had been flighty once. smoke ventured closer, stopping until he was a some feet behind her. he didn’t speak, instead he noticed how much smaller she was compared to him. it was easily a six-inch difference.

“i love comin’ out here. it’s always so peaceful,”

her voice was smoky and sweet. a gentle rhythm the way she said certain words, there was a unique combination of a drawl, and typewriter’s pace.

“and the way the fireflies float above the water, it’s like they’re dancin’,”

smoke turned and looked. the fireflies flickered there tail bulbs in a musical synchrony, swirling and turning above the water, in constellation like structures. nature’s beauty.

“i’m lila by the way,”

lila. lila. she—no, lila, now stood in front of him, a hand stretched out towards him. he took her hand, the delicate softness of skin contrasted with smoke’s rough callouses. their hands fit like perfect puzzle pieces. his mind wondered—how else they would fit.

“smoke,”

“smoke?”

“yes ma’am,”

lila cocked her head. she eyed smoke, regarding him. then, she giggled.

smoke steeled over. there wasn’t much in this world that smoke didn’t care for, but being laughed at was one of them.

“what’s funny?” smoke gruffed.

“oh,” shock flashed briefly in her eyes, before morphing into a soft, reflective nostalgia as she brought her fingers to her lips. “i ain’t mean nothin’ by it, uh, my cousin, we call him ash…”

oh.

smoke rolled his shoulders, releasing some of the tension that suddenly built up inside. something about lila crackled his nerves. he felt himself growing fidgety. he needed another cigarette.

“you don’t talk much do you?”

now it was smoke’s turn to cock his head.

lila was an observant thing.

“can do more than i could ever say,”

“really,” lila’s lips quirked. eyes glossing over as she did more than just regard him. her gaze raked over smoke’s build, slow and syrupy, like thick molasses. when she finally met his eyes, they were filled a fiery heat, that was just begging to be tamed.

lila stepped closer. her heels brushed against the soft grass as she stood in front of him. her right hand hovered over his chest. a heat sparked between them, sensual—carnal. one move, a single word uttered could ignite a flame. that flame ignited, twice over, lila placed her hand on smoke’s chest. the touch, gentle yet firm, a promise of more. then she spoke—

“what would you do with me?”

words laced want and desire, weaved its way inside of smoke, rooting itself inside of his very being. it drove him.

drove smoke to kiss lila. to grip her fleshy hips. to press lila’s soft body against the rigged bark of the oak tree, sticking stuck his tongue in the softest parts of her. to fuck her within an inch of her life, leaving her throat hoarse from all the moaning and screaming she did.

a sexual thing.

this thing between lila and smoke, quickly became routine. every second tuesday they would meet in the cover of night, and make love fuck.

a sexual thing.

smoke fucked lila everywhere and any which position. cowgirl in the motorcar. doggy in the grass. standing missionary against the trunk of the oak tree. and this one move they were doing up in philadelphia called the seashell. those moments with lila was a private piece of heaven that smoke kept for himself. away from keen eyes and nosy busybodies, even away his brother, for whom he loved dearly, but smoke needed something of his own. this was it.

and with every encounter smoke noticed the little things lila did for him. after the third, or was it the fourth—smoke couldn’t remember but, lila started to dab perfume oil behind her ears and the backs of her thighs. it smelled like jasmine. smoke liked that. she brought rags to wipe himself off with (not that he didn’t have any, sometimes he would run out during rounds. a self proclaim pull-out king, sometimes one just wasn’t enough). a flask filled with cognac and finally, a metal lighter with an engraving of his name.

he remembered the night, exactly.

“i got you somethin’,” lila said. it came out in a huff, she was still catching her breath, smoke had worn her every which way but loose.

they were laying on the grass. full moon's light shining down on them. in the distance the crickets chirped. it was peaceful. lila reached behind her, pulling a small package of parchment paper. she smiled, a gentle one, and handed it to smoke.

"hope you like it,"

he began unwrapping—peeling back the layers neatly folded parchment, with as much care as he could muster. smoke wasn't a careful man, cautious maybe, but careful, no.

smoke's heart panged.

in the paper lay a small sliver lighter. smooth to the touch, it was a marvel of craftsman. something twisted inside him when saw his name—his real one, engraved on the side.

lila sat up on her knees, tucking a curl behind her ear.

"i found it, untouched, in my daddy's old things. he was never much of a smoker like my granddaddy was. so, i was on my way to shop to sell for somethin', then i saw you. well, not you, but stack,"

"you met stack?"

"yeah! he's awful fun and that laugh. i get why all the girls swoon. anyway, we got to talkin' and he told me y'alls birthday was soon. consider it an early birthday gift,"

smoke traced his name. elijah. e-l-i-j-a-h.

no one had ever shown him a kindness like this, ever—emotion hit him like a tidal wave, huge and overwhelming. the deep, achy part, the amplified disesteem— that nipped at the corners of his mind reared its ugly head. immediately, his reflexes kicked in. smoke rose to his feet, zipping his fly, and buckling his belt. he tried to ignore, the look on lila's face as he got himself together.

"smoke? is everything, alright?" she was soft, too, soft. he sensed the disappointment her voice. "talk to me,"

smoke didn't respond as he buttoned his dress-shirt. lila moved in front of him. her bright eyes were dimming.

"do you not like it? i can take back, pawn it maybe. you don't have to keep it,"

"don't be silly," smoke rasped.

"silly?" there was a slight irritation in her voice. " i'm bein' silly? oh, guess when i let you stick your tongue in my cunny, i was bein' silly then too,"

"it wasn't nothin' you ain't want,"

"oh, fuck you, elijah!"

echoes of memories, very unkind ones flooded his brain. his fingers twitched as he wrestled with the top button. on the inside he was a mess of emotions, painful memories of old collided with painful new ones. on the outside, smoke was stoic as stone. unmovable, not shaken in the slightest—that had pissed lila off more as she huffed sliding her heels onto her feet.

"you're a piece of work, y'know that? i got you the damn thing 'cause i cared," lila glared at him as she shifted her dress on her hips. "i never wanted anything from you, smoke. nothing at all," she paused. a wave of a emotion flooded her too. she wiped roughly at a tear the fell from her eye.

"story of my life of my life, i guess. i always fall for the man who can't love me back,"

those words played in his mind, on repeat, on the drive back. it was silent, lila angled her body away from smoke the entire ride. and when the car stopped in front of her house, lila left the car, slamming it behind her. she disappeared into the doorway, not bothering to glance back. why would she? smoke hadn't given her any reason to.

i always fall for the man who can't love me back.

smoke palmed the lighter in his hand. the engine roared as smoke sped off into the night. pain filling his chest, at the realization, lila amongst many before, was but a memory, now.

a painful one.

── .✦ ݁₊ . ݁₊ .✦ ݁──

Jackie didn’t have her own place yet. She was new to the city, new to all of it. The lights, the clubs, the sharp-eyed men with expensive shoes and smoke trailing from their lips. It was nothing like home. It was louder. Faster. But she was learning. Marietta’s apartment wasn’t much. It was just a two-bedroom with a squeaky floor and radiator that clicked all night, but it was warm. And it was something. Jackie was grateful for that.

After Marietta and her conversation earlier, Jackie had kept her head down and gone back to work.

Stacks hadn’t returned.

But his crew had lingered and spread out at the corner booth like they owned it. Watching. Laughing too loud. Tipping too little. She kept the drinks full and the smile fixed, just like Marietta told her. Don’t ask questions. Don’t catch attitudes. Don’t flirt too much, don’t flirt too little.

It was a tightrope walk. But she could do it.

Because no matter what, Jackie needed this job.

She needed to save money. Needed to figure out how she was going to get to Los Angeles. That dream wasn’t going to pay for itself, and neither was the acting class she’d just started downtown. Tuesday and Thursday nights. She’d already missed the first one after arriving in Chicago late, and she couldn't afford to miss another.

So if all it took was a little grace and a little silence to keep the boss and his boys off her back?

Then she’d keep her mouth shut.

For now.

Jackie glanced toward the door as it creaked open, and Marietta peeked her head in. “You ready?”

“Yeah,” Jackie said, slipping on her shoes. “Let’s go.”

As they walked out of the club and into the cool night air, Jackie pulled her coat tighter around her. She didn’t look back. But the weight of eyes still lingered at the nape of her neck.

The city buzzed low and quiet around them, streetlights flickering overhead like sleepy fireflies. Jackie shoved her hands into her coat pockets as she and Marietta walked side by side, the night cool but not quite cold. The hush between them had stretched out since they left The Pharaoh’s Den, and Jackie was starting to feel it more with every block.

“You good?” she finally asked, glancing over.

Marietta gave her a soft, absent smile. “Yeah, just tired.”

Jackie nodded, but didn’t buy it. She’d seen Marietta work late nights before—she was usually still cracking jokes by the end of them, maybe humming a little, always tapping out choreography with her fingers even when she was spent. But tonight?

Marietta had been quiet. Real quiet.

Jackie figured maybe it was the show. That last number she did on stage was a beast. Her cousin moved like silk dipped in fire—she had the whole place spellbound. Jackie would’ve clapped if her hands weren’t full of drinks and tension. And maybe that was it. Maybe Marietta had just danced herself into exhaustion.

Jackie didn’t press. She didn’t want to seem needy or annoying. She still felt like a guest in Marietta’s world, even if they were blood. So instead she focused on the click of their heels and the sounds of the city trying to fall asleep around them.

But Marietta’s mind was screaming.

She kept her eyes forward, posture tight, jaw set. Jackie couldn’t know. Not yet. Maybe not ever. How could she even explain it?

Stacks had summoned her right after their talk in the dressing room. She hadn’t even had time to reapply her lipstick before one of his men told her, “Boss wants a word.” She followed them, legs heavy, stomach tight.

He wanted Jackie.

Bring her to my penthouse party tomorrow night.

Just like that. Like she was a piece of fruit he saw and decided he wanted a bite.

Marietta had stood still, her voice caught in her throat. She didn’t yell. Didn’t argue. She didn’t dare. Not with him.

Because she had seen what he was. She still had nightmares about it. Still smelled iron and sweat and cigarette smoke when the memory crept too close.

But now he wanted Jackie.

And Marietta didn’t know what to do.

She glanced at her cousin out of the corner of her eye. Jackie’s eyes were bright, face fresh despite the long night..

Marietta’s stomach twisted.

Was she really about to sell her cousin out to the devil?

Could she live with that?

Could she survive if she didn’t?

They reached the apartment and started climbing the narrow stairs. Jackie finally spoke again. “You sure you’re okay?”

Marietta unlocked the door without looking at her. “Yeah. I’m just thinking about stuff.”

Jackie followed her inside, kicking off her shoes. “Well, if you wanna talk or anything…”

“I’m fine, Jackie,” Marietta cut in, sharper than she meant.

Jackie blinked, surprised. Then nodded slowly, lips pressed tight. “Alright.”

The silence that followed wasn’t just quiet. It was thick.

Marietta sat on the couch, fingers gripping her knees, eyes unfocused. Jackie disappeared into the back, probably to shower or write in that little notebook she kept hidden under her pillow. Marietta leaned her head back and closed her eyes. Debating.

Tomorrow night was coming.

And Stacks would be waiting.

Saturday morning crept in through the curtains like it didn’t want to be there. The city buzzed beyond the windows, faint horns and the rumble of the train nearby. Marietta sat at the kitchen table, her untouched cup of coffee cooling by the second, her hands balled into fists in the robe draped around her.

She’d been up for hours.

Sleep had danced just out of reach all night, slipping past her the second she closed her eyes. Every time she got close, she saw Jackie’s face and Stacks’ cold, unreadable eyes.

Her stomach churned.

She remembered the way Stacks leaned back in that leather chair, his voice smooth and low. “Bring your cousin. Penthouse. Party.”

Just a party. The same way a vulture just circled the sky.

Nothing was just anything when it came to Stacks.

Marietta knew what that meant. With Stacks, everything came with strings, even if you couldn’t see them right away. He never yelled, never threatened. He didn’t need to. His power came in whispers and choices that weren’t really choices at all. When he spoke, it felt like the room itself bent to his will.

Marietta had followed it for years.

But this was different. He wanted Jackie.

Jackie wasn’t like her. She was soft around the edges, hopeful, still green in the ways of this world. Still believed that dreams could come true if you worked hard and smiled enough. She wasn’t ready for Stacks. She wasn’t ready for what that party might mean.

And yet…

Marietta had nothing left to bargain with. If she said no, if she didn’t show up with Jackie tonight, she knew what would happen. Maybe not right away. Maybe not loud. But Stacks would make his disappointment known. Quiet punishments. A shift in power. A reminder.

Marietta squeezed her eyes shut and cursed under her breath. Jackie had no idea what world she’d stepped into. Wide-eyed, new to the city, still believing hard work and heart would be enough. Marietta remembered being that girl once. Before Timothy. Before blood on her hands. Before Stacks.

She shuddered, recalling the night her life changed forever.

Timothy, her then-boyfriend had crossed the wrong man, trying to steal from Stacks. She warned him. He didn’t listen. So Stacks made an example out of him. He didn't just kill him. He tore into him and ripped his throat open with inhuman strength, eyes glowing like burning coals.

That night, Marietta screamed until she couldn’t breathe.

That night, Stacks told her if she kept quiet, if she let the past die with her ex, he’d give her the life she wanted.

And he did.

She became the Pharaoh’s Den’s leading dancer. Private rehearsals. Costume budgets. Big spenders asking for her by name. He kept his word.

But now he was calling in another favor and this time, it had Jackie’s name on it.

And it wouldn’t just be her who paid the price.

Jackie needed her job. She needed every dollar she could stack to get to Los Angeles. Marietta knew what happened to girls who crossed Stacks or failed him. The best-case scenario was being blacklisted from every decent club in the city. Worst case?

Marietta didn’t want to think about it.

She rubbed her temples, dragging in a slow, trembling breath. She didn’t want to do this.

But she had to.

Because protecting Jackie might mean playing the part and smiling through her teeth and making sure her cousin stayed close, kept her drink in hand, and didn’t wander too far into the shadows of Stacks’ world.

Maybe she could talk to Stacks. Make him see reason. Lay down boundaries. Keep Jackie out of reach. Maybe…

Her thoughts shattered when Jackie walked in, rubbing the sleep from her eyes, wearing a tank top and pajama shorts.

“Morning,” Jackie mumbled.

Marietta straightened up quickly, hiding the tightness in her chest with a half-smile. “Hey. You sleep okay?”

Jackie shrugged, grabbing a mug and pouring herself some of the lukewarm coffee. “Not really. I kept thinking about last night.”

Marietta’s heart skipped.

Jackie leaned against the counter, frowning thoughtfully. “You were acting weird.”

Marietta forced a small laugh. “Weird how?”

“Just…off. Quiet. Distant. You always tell me to keep my eyes open in that place, and then you go all silent on me.”

Marietta looked down at her coffee. “Yeah. Sorry. I was just tired.” She wasn’t ready to tell her the truth. Maybe she never would be.

Jackie yawned and poured another splash of coffee. “That guy from last night. Stacks, right? He never came back after our little…chat.”

Marietta’s stomach twisted.

Jackie added with a shrug, “Probably for the best. I didn’t like the way he talked to me. But I ain’t stupid. I’ll play it smart.”

That only made Marietta feel worse. Jackie had no clue how dangerous charm could be in this city. They sat in silence for a moment before Marietta finally cleared her throat.

“There’s a party tonight,” she said softly.

Jackie looked up. “Where?”

“At the penthouse. Stacks is throwing it.”

Jackie raised an eyebrow, skeptical. “And why would we be invited to his party?”

Marietta set her mug down and folded her hands. “Because it’s a good opportunity. There’ll be actors, producers, people with money. People who can open doors.”

Jackie frowned. “You think it’s a good idea? Me going?”

Marietta’s chest ached. She wanted to scream No. She wanted to say, You’re not ready. You’re not for sale. You don’t belong in that world, not yet, not ever.

But instead she said, “It’s just a party. You don’t have to do anything but show up, smile, and let them see you. I’ll be there the whole time.”

Jackie studied her for a long moment. She looked unsure and rightfully so, but Marietta could also see the hunger in her cousin’s eyes. The longing. The dream that had brought her to Chicago in the first place.

Jackie sighed. “Alright. I’ll go. But only if you stick with me.”

Marietta nodded, pushing the guilt deeper into her gut. “Of course.”

She turned away so Jackie wouldn’t see the shame in her eyes.

Because deep down, she knew once they walked into that penthouse, they’d cross a line there’d be no coming back from.

Jackie stepped out first, heels clicking against the curb, her breath catching as she looked up at the building. She had never seen anything like it. The lobby alone, visible through the tall glass doors, looked like a museum. It had white marble floors, a chandelier that sparkled like dripping diamonds, and a concierge in a navy suit standing like a sentry behind polished mahogany.

Marietta stepped out behind her, adjusting the strap of her silver clutch, her eyes already scanning their surroundings. Her usual confidence was buried beneath layers of nerves and makeup.

Jackie smoothed her dress. A velvet burgundy number that clung to her in all the right places. Marietta had picked it out from her own collection, saying Jackie needed something “elegant but unforgettable.” Her hair was swept up in soft waves, and her lips painted a deep wine-red. She looked every inch the rising star, but her stomach flipped as they approached the doors.

“Damn,” she murmured, breath fogging the air. “This building looks like it belongs in a movie.”

“Come on,” Marietta said quietly, nodding toward the doors.

The glass doors slid open smoothly as they approached, and a subtle floral scent wafted out to meet them. Jackie swallowed. The space felt like a whole different world: quiet, curated, expensive.

They were greeted with a nod from the concierge, who clearly knew they were expected. He didn’t ask for their names. Just silently gestured toward the private elevator tucked in a corner of the lobby.

Inside the elevator, Jackie stood beside Marietta, heart ticking a little faster than she liked to admit. “This building is insane,” she said softly, eyes tracing the glowing control panel and mirrored walls. “I don’t think I’ve ever been in a place like this. I feel like I’m about to meet somebody famous.”

Marietta gave a tight smile but said nothing.

The elevator rose with a smooth whisper, carrying them upward until a soft chime signaled their arrival. The doors opened to reveal an entirely different kind of luxury.

The penthouse spread before them like a palace in the clouds. Floor-to-ceiling windows showed off the entire city skyline, glittering and endless. Jazz music played low from somewhere inside, and the air smelled faintly of champagne, perfume, and something darker, something unplaceable but expensive.

The space was bathed in golden lighting, reflecting off glass tables and dark wood floors. Plush chairs, velvet couches, sleek art pieces and tall candlelit shelves filled the room in a way that said wealth without a single word.

Men in sharp suits leaned near the bar, while women in silk and diamonds moved effortlessly through the room, laughter curling in the air like smoke. Jackie glanced around, unsure of where to step or how to stand. It felt like one wrong move could shatter the illusion.

Reggie appeared near a corner lounge, his deep navy blazer gleaming under the lights, a glass of something amber and strong in his hand. He approached them casually, a smile tucked in the corner of his mouth.

“Ladies,” he greeted. “Looking real nice tonight. Come on in. You’re right on time.”

Marietta nodded, her hand gently pressing Jackie’s back as they walked deeper into the party. Jackie glanced sideways at her cousin, frowning slightly.

“You okay?” she asked. “You’ve been quiet since we left the club.”

“I’m just tired,” Marietta answered, keeping her eyes forward. “Long night.”

Jackie let it go, but the tension wasn’t lost on her. The way Marietta kept scanning the room, how stiff her posture was, this wasn’t just about a party. Still, Jackie reminded herself why she came: to make connections, to maybe be seen by someone who could open a door.

Nearly twenty minutes had passed since they’d arrived at the penthouse, and Jackie found herself caught in a spirited conversation with a small circle of women. Most were dancers from The Pharaoh’s Den—girls she recognized from backstage chatter and smoky dressing rooms. But sprinkled among them were others who stood a little straighter, spoke with a certain theater-trained confidence, and wore gowns that whispered money. Broadway performers. Showgirls. Women who had been in the game longer than she had been alive, yet still radiated glamour like it was stitched into their skin.

Jackie tried to keep up, laughing when appropriate, nodding politely, sipping champagne much slower than the others. Her cousin Marietta stood close by, smiling and laughing along, but Jackie noticed something strange beneath the gloss of her expression, something guarded. She couldn’t quite place it.

The penthouse itself was a vision. High ceilings with gilded trim, crystal chandeliers hanging like floating galaxies above them, and floor-to-ceiling windows that offered a view of Chicago’s nighttime skyline. Jackie had never seen anything so opulent. Her heels clicked against marble floors, and the air smelled of expensive perfume and something deeper like old secrets sealed behind velvet drapes.

She turned her attention back to the group just as soft murmurs swept through the room like wind brushing silk.

Then she saw him.

Stacks.

He’d just entered through the tall double doors with a quiet authority that didn’t need to announce itself. People noticed. Conversations dropped. Bodies shifted. His crew followed behind him, all sharp suits and watchful eyes, but it was Stacks who commanded the space like a god surveying his temple.

Jackie remembered him instantly, the man from her first shift, the one who had spoken to her like she was background noise. At the time, she’d been too flustered, too thrown by his tone and presence to take in anything else. But here, under the golden lights, with his face clear and fully visible, she saw him.

And he was…

His skin was smooth, rich like dark cedarwood. His eyes were two heavy coins of bronze rimmed with shadow, watching everything, revealing nothing. His suit clung to him in the way only custom-tailored cloth could, and his features were so precise, so ruthless in their beauty, it made her breath catch. He looked like the kind of man women wrote poetry about and the kind who’d never read it.

Jackie hated herself a little for noticing.

Yes, he was gorgeous. But he was also the same man who had dismissed her without a second glance. The memory of his cold, clipped voice still echoed in her chest. No warmth. No curiosity. Just command.

And yet… something about him pulled at her. Maybe it was the way the room tilted slightly in his presence. Or the way even the most poised dancers seemed to readjust their posture when he walked past. He didn’t have to speak to be dangerous. He didn’t have to smile to be noticed.

She didn’t realize she was staring until Marietta’s fingers gripped her wrist gently but firmly.

“Jackie,” her cousin whispered, the smile never leaving her lips. “Stop staring.”

“I wasn’t—” Jackie turned her eyes away, heat creeping up her neck. “I wasn’t looking like that.”

Marietta leaned in just slightly, her voice a low hum. “You don’t want to look at him in any kind of way.”

Jackie swallowed, forcing her eyes back to the women’s circle. The laughter had resumed, but her focus had not. Stacks now stood near the bar, saying little, sipping something dark. Every now and then, someone would approach him, a man with a briefcase, a woman with a diamond choker and he would listen, nod once, then move on. It was clear he didn’t owe this room anything. If anything, the room owed him.

Jackie reached for her champagne again, trying to still the fluttering in her chest.

Whatever else Stacks was, he wasn’t just a club owner. And Jackie was beginning to wonder if he was the kind of man who could ruin lives without ever raising his voice

Jackie had just taken another sip of her champagne when a shadow cut across the circle of women, silencing their easy laughter.

It was Reggie.

Stacks’ right-hand man. Always dressed sharp, with eyes that scanned a room the way a wolf surveys a clearing before striking.

“Marietta,” Reggie said smoothly, ignoring the rest of the women as if they were mannequins. “Boss would like a word.”

Jackie felt Marietta stiffen beside her, the hand resting on her champagne flute going still. For the briefest second, Jackie swore she saw something flicker behind her cousin’s eyes. Dread? Resignation?

Then it was gone.

Marietta smiled. “Of course,” she said, the words honeyed, her voice like silk stretched over stone. She placed her glass on a nearby table, her other hand gently curling around Jackie’s forearm.

“You’re coming too,” Reggie added, this time turning his gaze to Jackie.

Jackie blinked. “Me?”

Reggie didn’t answer. He didn’t need to. The look he gave her said enough.

Marietta nodded quickly, her fingers tightening around Jackie’s arm before she could protest. “Let’s go, Jacks.”

They walked across the penthouse, heels echoing against the marble, moving through currents of perfume and curiosity. Jackie could feel eyes on them, some amused, some knowing. She kept her chin high, but her stomach had begun to knot.

Stacks stood near the massive windows, backlit by the pulse of the Chicago skyline, its golden lights flickering like a low flame behind him. He barely moved when Marietta and Jackie approached, his broad frame outlined in quiet authority. He sipped slowly from a tumbler of dark liquor, then set it down on the marble console with a soft clink.

Marietta’s fingers were still curled lightly around Jackie’s arm, but Jackie felt her cousin’s grip tighten the closer they came. Jackie couldn’t help but wonder—why did Marietta seem tenser than usual? Her usual poise was now locked behind a tight-lipped smile.

Stacks turned. His eyes cut through the two women like headlights through fog. He looked at Marietta first briefly, with familiarity before shifting his attention to Jackie.

The weight of his gaze landed hard.

He gave Jackie a long, assessing look. No smirk. No wink. Just a quiet inspection, like she was a painting he wasn’t sure whether he wanted to buy or burn.

“You clean up nice,” he finally said, voice low and even. “I barely recognized you from the club.”

Jackie tilted her chin slightly, unsure whether it was a compliment or a reminder. “Thank you,” she said, guarded but polite.

Marietta took a small step forward. “You said you wanted to see us?”

Stacks raised an eyebrow. “I did.”

He gestured toward the hallway leading to a private elevator. “I’ve got people upstairs. Producers. Club owners. Vegas talent scouts. They’re asking for you, Marietta.”

Marietta hesitated. “Both of us?”

“No,” he said plainly. “Just you.”

Marietta could feel the heat rising beneath her skin, even though her face remained composed. As soon as Stacks mentioned “upstairs,” she knew exactly what game he was playing.

He wanted to separate them.

It was never just about business with him. It was about control. Always.

She had made Jackie a promise earlier that night they wouldn’t split up. But promises didn’t carry weight in Stacks’s world. He snapped his fingers, and the whole room bent to his will.

Marietta’s jaw tightened slightly before she forced a soft smile. She turned to Jackie and touched her arm lightly.

“I’ll be back,” she said, low and careful.

Jackie blinked at her. “I thought we were—”

“I know,” Marietta cut in quickly, her eyes flicking toward Stacks and then back. “Things changed. I won’t be long.”

Her voice was smooth, but the tension behind her eyes betrayed her. Jackie could feel something wasn’t right, but didn’t know what. Couldn’t know.

Stacks stood with the quiet confidence of someone who already knew no one was going to say no to him. “Go on up, Marietta,” he said. “They’re waiting.”

There was no malice in his voice. No raised tone. But it was a command wrapped in silk.

Marietta swallowed the knot in her throat and nodded. She didn’t look at Jackie again as she walked away because she couldn’t. If she did, she’d fold.

Stacks turned his full attention to Jackie, who stood in place like someone unsure whether to step forward or turn back. She felt a little awkward now, just standing there in her borrowed heels and tailored dress. Around them, the quiet murmur of jazz spilled from the speakers, and across the penthouse, clusters of beautiful people laughed over champagne.

“You don’t have to just stand there,” he said to herself, trying to shake the edge off. Stacks raised a brow. “You can mingle if you’d like,” he said evenly. “But I was hoping you’d stay.”

Jackie hesitated. “Why?”

He stepped a little closer, his voice low. “Because I want to get to know who’s working in my house.”

The air tightened.

Jackie looked at him then, really looked at him. The first time they’d met, she hadn’t picked up on how handsome he actually was. That was likely because he was being rude and ordering her around like she was furniture. But here, under the warm amber lights, without the smoke and music of the Pharaoh’s Den blurring his features, Jackie could see it sharp jawline, thick mustache, eyes that glinted like polished metal.

Still, the man had an arrogance about him. Something untouchable and simmering beneath the surface. Even now, as he spoke kindly, something about him felt more predator than patron.

Jackie sank into the plush velvet cushions of the couch, the coolness of the fabric kissing her bare legs. Her posture was poised, legs crossed at the ankles like her mother had taught her. “Always sit like you know the room belongs to you, even if you just walked in.” She can hear her mother voice in the back of her head.

Stacks took his time. He didn’t flop down or lean back casually. He settled beside her with the grace of someone used to commanding a room, his arm resting along the back of the couch, not touching her, but close enough she could feel the heat radiating off him.

For a moment, the two sat in silence, the soft clink of champagne glasses and the laughter of other partygoers floating in the background. Jackie kept her eyes forward, scanning the glamorous crowd, but aware of every inch of the man beside her.

“I owe you an apology,” Stacks said suddenly, his voice a low murmur, intimate despite the open room.

Jackie blinked. “Oh?”

He nodded slowly. “Back at the club. I was short with you. Dismissive.”

She turned her head to look at him then, one brow rising slightly. “That’s one way to describe it.”

Stacks gave a soft, almost amused exhale. “I tend to be… direct. It’s part of how I run things. But that doesn’t mean I shouldn’t have shown more respect.”

Jackie held his gaze for a beat. His tone was smooth, careful. Almost too careful.

“Well,” she said, slowly. “Thanks for that.”

He waited, like he expected more. Maybe a softening in her eyes, a flirtatious curve of the mouth. But Jackie wasn’t interested in stroking his ego. She needed this job, sure, but she wasn’t going to fawn over someone who barked at her like she was disposable just days ago.

Still, she was smart enough to keep her real thoughts in check. She offered him a tight-lipped smile. “Water under the bridge.”

But her body language said otherwise. Her spine stayed straight, arms lightly folded in her lap. Her tone was calm, but her eyes didn’t drop submissively the way many others might have.

Stacks noticed.

“You seem smarter than you act,” he said.

Jackie blinked. “Excuse me?”

“You’re quiet. You watch people. You don’t talk unless there’s something worth saying.” He studied her face. “That tells me a lot.”

Jackie’s hands tightened around her small clutch purse. “I try not to get in anyone’s way.”

Stacks smiled faintly. “That’s why you’re still standing here.”

The silence stretched. He walked over to a crystal liquor and poured himself another drink then offered her one.

She shook her head. “No, thank you.”

He sipped slowly. “Suit yourself.”

Jackie looked away for a moment toward the high ceilings, the gold-accented trim, the artwork hanging like secrets on the wall. This place was nothing like where she’d come from. She’d never been around this much wealth. And now, the man who ruled it all was watching her like a chess piece.

Stacks moved back to her, his voice quieter this time. “You ever wonder why your cousin gets top billing at the club?”

Jackie turned to him again, slowly. “She works hard.”

“She does,” he agreed. “But I made her.”

Jackie’s stomach dropped. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He swirled the drink in his glass, then took a final sip before setting it down. “It means I see potential. And I invest in what I see.”

His gaze settled on her once more. It was heavy and unreadable.

“You could be something too. If you like.”

Jackie didn’t answer. She wasn’t sure she could.

He tilted his head slightly, his gaze traveling over her like he was trying to read a deeper page. “You don’t trust me.”

“I don’t know you,” she said plainly.

“Fair enough.” He sat back a little, draping his arm fully along the couch’s backrest. “But you will.”

Jackie’s pulse flickered at that. The words weren’t threatening exactly, but they felt heavy like a lock sliding into place.

She turned her eyes back to the crowd, focusing on a showgirl in glittering fringe laughing with one of the Pharaoh’s Den bouncers.

“Do you always have your girls around after hours like this?” she asked, redirecting the conversation.

“Not always,” he answered. “Only when I want to know who’s worth my time.”

Jackie stayed quiet, swallowing back the sarcastic reply that tried to rise. She couldn’t afford to be flippant. Not here. Not with him.

She forced a soft chuckle. “And do I seem worth your time so far?”

Stacks didn’t answer right away. Instead, he turned his gaze directly on her, eyes narrowing ever so slightly as if calculating something far beyond the scope of her question.

“I think,” he said slowly, “you’ll be more than worth it.”

Jackie’s throat tightened. She smiled again tight, polite, and reached for the glass of sparkling water on the table. Her hand was steady. She’d mastered that much. But inside, she could feel the unease simmering beneath the surface.

She needed to breathe. To remind herself she was in control at least outwardly.

Stacks leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his eyes still on her. “You play it cool. Real cool. But I know nervous when I see it.”

Jackie glanced at him, her expression unreadable. “I’m not nervous.”

His mouth twitched into something like a smile, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “No? Then you’re the rarest kind of woman in this room.”

She didn’t answer. She wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction.

Stacks straightened up again, dragging a single finger across the rim of his glass, watching the waterline tremble slightly. “I know what I look like to women like you. Dangerous. Maybe even arrogant.”

“Maybe?” Jackie she questioned.

He let out a dry laugh. “You’re bold. I like that.”

Jackie folded one leg over the other, her voice smooth. “I’m careful. There’s a difference.”

Their eyes locked for a moment, something electric but unspoken pulsing between them. He could read the walls she had up. She could feel the subtle pressure in every word he chose, every measured glance.

Stacks tapped the unlit cigar against the table edge, his gaze still tracking her with unsettling ease. “So tell me, Jackie…” His voice dropped into something smoother, more deliberate as he lit his cigar. “If you don’t dance, and you don’t flirt for tips, what’d you come to this city for?”

Jackie didn’t flinch. She crossed her arms gently, tilting her head like she’d been asked that question too many times already. “To work,” she said simply.

Stacks gave a low scoff, leaning in just enough for his voice to carry heat. “Liar.”

Her jaw tightened before she could stop it. She met his gaze, sharper now. “Excuse me?”

He didn’t blink. “You didn’t leave wherever you’re from just to pull night shifts for chump change. You’re hungry. I see it.”

Jackie’s spine straightened. “You don’t know me.”

His smirk didn’t waver. “Not yet. But I’m good at reading people. And you…you’re trying real hard not to be seen.”

She was quiet, but a fire licked at the back of her throat. She could’ve said something slick, something biting, because God knew it was on the tip of her tongue. But she didn’t. She forced a smile, slow and measured, folding her hands neatly in her lap like she had all the time in the world.

“I play my part,” she said coolly.

Stacks narrowed his eyes, like he could feel the weight of everything she was holding back. Then his mouth curved, like he’d just cracked the first layer of a locked safe.

“Your cousin wants to be a dancer,” he said. “So I’m guessing… you want to be an actress.”

Jackie blinked once, slow.

He leaned back, satisfied with her silence. “That’s it, isn’t it? That’s the real dream. You didn’t come here just to work. You came here hoping someone would see you.”

She looked away, lips pressing together.

Stacks’s voice softened just slightly. “Well, I’m looking now.”

Jackie didn’t reply. She didn’t need to. Her silence said more than words could manage equal parts defiance and fear, ambition and restraint.

He watched her like a man who’d found something valuable in a pawnshop window. Underpriced, underestimated, but gleaming just beneath the dust.

“Let me guess,” he continued, “you used to recite lines in your bedroom mirror. Maybe did a school play or two. Heard you had something special. Thought maybe the city would agree.”

Jackie’s face was calm, but her hands curled ever so slightly against the fabric of her dress. He was too close. Not physically, but mentally. He was peeling her open with questions she hadn’t even asked herself lately.

“And if I did?” she said, her voice steady. “What does that matter to you?”

Stacks smiled again, slow and confident. “It means I know what kind of story you’re trying to write for yourself.”

He stood then, straightening his jacket as if to punctuate the moment.

“And I might be the one who helps you write it.”

Jackie watched him as he turned to walk away, pausing only to glance back over his shoulder.

“Think about it,” he said, before slipping into the crowd like smoke in a room full of mirrors.

Jackie remained seated, her back barely touching the velvet cushion behind her. The low hum of voices and jazz mingled like smoke around her, but everything felt muffled, distant like she was underwater.

Stacks' words echoed in her head.

“You didn’t come here just to work… You want to be seen.”

Damn him.

He didn’t know her. Not really. He didn’t know what it felt like to grow up in a house too quiet, too small, where dreams weren’t nurtured they were tolerated at best, dismissed at worst. He hadn’t seen her standing outside the bus station with twenty bucks in her shoe, clutching her cousin’s address in one hand and a half-dead hope in the other.

She’d told herself this move was about survival. Just a job. Just a fresh start.

But he saw through that. Saw through her.

And what terrified her wasn’t that he was wrong, it was because he was right.

Her heart thudded behind her ribs. She wasn’t just here to help with rent. She wasn’t just tagging along with Marietta. She came here hoping for more. She came hoping the city would pull something out of her that had always been buried. Something raw and dazzling. A version of herself she could be proud of.

But now?

Stacks of all people was the one dangling that possibility like a string of pearls. And she didn’t trust him. His smile was too confident. His words too calculated. She could feel the manipulation dripping from every syllable. He was dangerous. The kind of man who offered gold only to chain it around your neck.

Jackie sipped her sparkling water again, the bubbles bitter on her tongue. She was angry. Not just at him—but at herself. For letting her pulse jump when he said he was looking now. For letting even a flicker of curiosity catch fire in her chest.

She turned her eyes toward the far end of the penthouse, searching for Marietta. Her cousin was still upstairs somewhere, out of sight, and that made her feel even more alone.

You said we wouldn’t split up.

Jackie swallowed hard.

A fresh swell of laughter came from a circle of dancers and bouncers a few feet away. Jackie straightened her posture and folded her hands in her lap, forcing her breath to steady.

She couldn’t afford to fall apart. Not here. Not tonight.

So she did what she always did when the pressure climbed too high. She performed. She painted on a small, practiced smile. Tilted her chin. Made herself look composed, unbothered, in control. Because if she couldn’t be seen the way she wanted, she’d at least control how she was seen.

Even if it meant pretending.

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