✨

Late night had settled over Elias’s condo. Leon Thomas drifted from the speakers, lulling the room into a comfortable silence. Dim purple lighting washed over your soft brown skin, making it that much more alluring.

Somewhere nearby, a window was left cracked open and a gentle breeze blew through the curtains across your damp skin, raising goose bumps that sent chills over your body. The air carried the rich, woodsy scent of Elias’s cologne mixed with cooling sweat and the intimate evidence of what you two had been doing for hours. 

Stack shifted so that he was between your legs again. His warm, bare chest rested against yours as his eyes wandered over your features, hands on either side of your head. He leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to your lips, your jaw, down your throat. It had only been 15 minutes, and he was already ready for more of you.

“One more baby? Lemme have you again.” His southern drawl came out sweet and enticing. You traced your fingers down his spine as he continued placing tantalizing kisses across your exposed flesh.

“What we doin’ Stack?” 

He hummed against your skin in confusion, never stopping his torrent of kisses.

“I’m spending more nights at your place now than my own and we been doin’ this for a hot minute now. We spend most of our time together anyway.”

Stack made his way back to your lips now, leaving a soft one at the corner of your mouth. 

“What you gettin’ at, sweetness?” He pulled away to look at you fully now. 

“I just mean… is this all? We just gon’ keep hookin’ up and calling each other friends even though we both know it’s more?”

He held your gaze but his expression was unchanged. 

“You know you special to me. Ain’t nobody else got me like this.” His hands were roaming your thighs and hips now. His kisses made their way down your tummy, ending with a lingering one above your navel. “We know what it is, why we gotta go and complicate it?”

Before you could answer, the conversation died how it always did. With him between your legs and you too lost in pleasure to continue pressing. But truth be told, you were tired of being his favorite option instead of the only one.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

By the time the weekend came you’d made your decision. You had spent enough time waiting around on Elias to finally claim you. Your mama taught you at a young age that you should never beg a man for anything. What one won’t do, another will. And it was for this reason that you finally said yes to Malik’s offer to take you out for dinner and drinks. He worked in the building next to you and had been chasing you for a while now. You had turned him down more than a few times hoping that Stack would finally put a label on things. But after your previous conversation with him, it was clear that wasn’t happening any time soon. So, today when Malik asked what you were doing that night while y’all ate lunch together, you told him the truth. 

Nothing special. 

You made your way to your car after work and settled your belongings in the passenger seat. Like clockwork, your phone lit up with a photo of Elias as it began to ring. You stared at the screen for a moment before opting out of answering. Friday nights had been you and Stack’s thing for months now. You would pick the take-out and he’d pick it up after work along with a bottle—or two— of wine for your movie night. It had become so routine that he never even considered you wouldn’t be attending.

By the time you got home your phone was ringing again. With a deep sigh, you answered this time.

“You a hard lady to get a hold of. Y’know, I was startin’ to think you were avoidin’ me.” He chuckled to himself. He was currently at the liquor store perusing different kinds of wine, hoping to find something you guys hadn’t tried before. “What you in the mood for tonight? White or red?” 

You fidgeted with the sleeve of your shirt uncomfortably as you thought about how to respond. You didn’t necessarily want to lie to him, but you sure as hell weren’t gonna tell him the truth either. Your answer landed somewhere in the middle of those two options.

“I actually got plans tonight. Some of my girls wanna check out this new spot downtown.” Biting down on your lip nervously, you waited for his response. The other end of the line went so silent you almost thought he hung up. 

“Stack?”

Stack was stunned silent. He couldn’t remember the last time he hadn’t spent a Friday night with you. Even if you didn’t come to his place, usually he would just come to yours. The sudden change in routine made him deeply uncomfortable. But alas, he reluctantly quipped,

“Since when you busy on Friday’s? You seein’ somebody else or somethin’?” He was teasing but when you didn’t laugh, he leaned in closer. The silence was not comforting.

“Since tonight. My girls wanna see me, and it’s been a minute since I’ve been out.” You replied simply, suddenly growing irritated that he was prompting you to explain yourself. Stack swallowed and shifted awkwardly on his feet, nodding as if you could see him. He wanted to continue pressing the topic, ask the specific name of this new spot that was more interesting than him or his club. But his pride got the best of him.

“Aight…ladies’ night. Handle your business then, baby girl. Don’t have too much fun without me. Let me know when you make it in the house safe.” 

You promised you would before quickly ending the call. The refusal did not sit well with Stack. He had recovered smoothly from your rejection in the moment, but now that the call was over, he was stuck staring at the same bottle of Moscato he had been holding for the past five minutes. It wasn’t like you to say no to him.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

As much as he hated to admit it, Stack didn’t really have back up plans. He always reserved Friday nights for you no matter who else he was seeing. He sat on his couch for a while, sipping the wine he’d picked for the two of you earlier. He scrolled through his recent messages debating who he should hit up, if anyone. Honestly, his roster had been thinning out the more attached he became to you. They just weren’t like you. They didn’t laugh like you or smell like you, and the more time he spent with you the more intoxicating your presence became to him. 

Truth be told, he was disappointed. Stack kept a line up. There was no shortage of women in his life— he could have anyone he wanted within a single text or call. But you were his favorite. There wasn’t anyone else he wanted to lay up with and kiss on but you. With other women, he usually just skipped to the main event. Minimal foreplay, surface level conversation. Nothing like what he had with you.

Stack’s train of thought was interrupted by his phone ringing. He snatched it from the cushion next to him, nearly dropping it as he tried to answer. A disappointed groan made its way from his mouth when he realized it was just one of his homeboys. Not you. He’d never admit it, but he was hoping that maybe you would change your mind and decide to stay in with him after all— even though he’d never ask.

“Yo” He answered boredly.

“Aye, Stack. What you on tonight? Lil’ Ms. Fine as hell over there?”

Stack chuckled and shook his head. It was no secret that you were the finest woman on his roster, and again, his absolute favorite. You were the only woman he had a silent claim over.

“Naw, she’s with her girls. Said somethin’ about a new spot openin’ up downtown, I don’t know.” he felt his annoyance bubbling to the surface again as he reiterated your words. He had no right to feel possessive over your time, but he couldn’t help it.

“Yeah we gon’ head over there too. You tryna pop out?” 

Stack fixed his mouth to say no. He was aware that it was probably clingy to follow you to the exact place you told him you would be—on the one night you’d taken space from him. Still, the idea that he could feign bumping into you, and that maybe through a turn of events you would end up ending the night with him after all, got the best of him. And there was still something ugly and jealous tugging at him about the way you never answered when he asked if there was someone else.

“Yeah I’ll meet y’all over there. Gimme like 45.” He ended the call with his homeboy and went straight to his closet.

Girls night, huh? He tutted to himself as he scanned his clothing, looking for something to wear. Unfortunately for you, he was about to crash your party.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Any time Elias Moore stepped into the building, he was the main attraction. The SmokeStack twins were known by people clear across the Mississipi delta— and in other places too. Tall tales and fables alike had been whispered through the grapevine for years now. Stories about men who’d encountered the twins but never lived to tell the tale. Gossip about the havoc they wreaked in Chicago prior to returning to their little hometown… mysteriously, with enough money to open a club of their own. 

Stack didn’t do lines. Upon arriving to the club, hushed whispers and watchful eyes oriented toward him immediately. There was a confident swagger in his walk as he headed straight to the front of the line, like he always did. He slipped a crisp $50 bill to the bouncer out of respect before dapping him up. Then, he made his way inside. No fuss, no muss. 

Vibrant neon lighting flashed across the club, highlighting its lively crowd. Music thumped through the floors and radiated into Stack’s chest. The crowd parted instinctively for him as he found his way through the room. Women stared lustfully, admiring his confident walk and the million-dollar smile he’d flash if you were lucky enough. Stack was fly, it was no secret. He only wore the best and he was always iced out. 

“How you doin’, daddy?” a tall, slim woman cooed as Stack brushed past her. His gaze raked over her, and he nodded in acknowledgement as he made his way into his section. If he wasn’t VIP, he wasn’t attending. 

“Stacks-A-Billion! You made it. My nigga finally got from up under that girl and graced us with his presence.” Donte clapped Stack on his back and pulled him into a brotherly hug. The other men at the table did the same, greeting him one by one like he was a don. 

The night was smooth at first. Real smooth. Stack was in the middle of chopping it up with one of his old flings who he’d cut loose when his eyes caught a familiar face. There you were. He froze completely as he took you in.

You were wearing all black. Leather shorts that sat on your hips low and hugged them just right and a lace-up sleeveless biker top. Black heels adorned your feet, and you were wearing your signature gold jewelry. The corner of his lips twitched upward into a smile involuntarily and he licked them as he took in your appearance.

However, the smile quickly dropped from his face when he realized that your girlfriends were nowhere to be found. Instead— you were with some tall guy. Stack looked hard and long to ensure he wasn’t imagining things. 

Nope. No girlfriends. This was definitely a date. 

Immediately, Stack tuned out the woman that had been talking to him. The music in the club dulled to a thumping pulse, and suddenly he had tunnel vision. He couldn’t help the possessive ugly feeling that arose deep in his chest as he watched the man’s hand brush the small of your back when he leaned in to whisper something to you.

You didn’t see him for several minutes. But when you did— your eyes locked with his. You were caught. Completely and totally caught red-handed in the act. Stack stayed where he was, but he held the piercing stare long enough that you wished you could disappear. Then, he turned back to his boys as if nothing had happened.

It stayed like that for a short while. Stack kept mingling, talking to people who approached him. He managed to make it through half of another drink before he became so consumed with a silent possessive rage that he turned from his boys mid-conversation and headed straight over to you. The crowd parted for him like the red sea.

“ ’Scuse me patna, I need to talk to her for a second.”

Malik looked startled, he hadn’t seen him approach. He looked like he wanted to say no, looking between the two of you as the tension rose. Apparently, he waited two seconds too long, because Stack increased his proximity to the man with one large step, a cold stare closed the rest of the distance between them. 

“I ain’t askin’, I’m tellin’ you. Don’t get hurt boy.” He snarked; tone laced with southern venom. And with that, Malik scrammed.

Stack grabbed your bicep, gentle enough not to hurt you— but with enough force that you knew now was not the time to test him. He guided you to the backdoor of the club and slammed it open. The cold air kissed your hot skin and instinctively made you flinch.

“Let go of me, Elias” you snapped, snatching your arm away once it was just the two of you. He turned toward you with a look that made it hard to pinpoint his emotions.

“Who the fuck is that?” He snapped back. You looked away towards the busy street and crossed your arms defensively. The distant sound of impatient drivers filled the silence.

“A friend.”

He sucked his teeth and responded, “Don’t gimme that shit girl, a friend? I just watched how that nigga was lookin’ at you, and it ain’t nothin’ holy or friendship-like on his mind.” Stack was trying to remain as calm as he could given the situation.

“We grabbed food and decided to stop by for a drink, that’s all” you sighed. You rubbed your temples out of frustration. Why the hell was he even here? Stack’s eyebrows lifted at your confession. He stepped closer and cocked his head to the side.

“Fuck you mean y’all just had dinner? That’s what we doin’ now? You goin’ on two-part dates with random niggas?” Now his voice was starting to raise. He looked away in an effort to find his composure, but he felt his heart beating fast with panic. This was the second part of the date?

“I’m not your girlfriend, Elias! I can see who I want, why do you care anyway.” Your voice rang out sharp and shrill against the brick walls of the alley.

Instantly, his head snapped back towards you. He stepped closer. One step, then another, until your back was against the cold brick wall behind you. One of his palms came up beside your head and he leaned in close enough that you could tell what liquor he’d been sipping on. His eyes flicked from your eyes down to your lips, and back again. Almost like he was trying to make sure they were the same as they were the last time he’d tasted them— untouched by anyone else.

“If you ain’t mine…why you lyin’ to me ‘bout who you with, baby?”

And for that, you did not have an answer. You simply looked at him blankly. After a long hard stare, you scoffed and pushed him by his chest away from you, refusing to give him an answer that he already had. You turned around to make your way back inside to find your date. He was probably scared shitless.

“Tell ol’ boy don’t get caught alone in no dark alleys.” Stack’s voice rang out sharp from the alley as you walked away. You rolled your eyes hard.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

A week went by after your encounter with Stack at the club. You’d sent texts, called a few times. He was radio silent. He had stopped randomly popping up at your place with tokens of his affection, and he hadn’t made any attempts to reach out to you himself. Your last text which read, “How long are you gonna do this? Say something” had been delivered nearly 12 hours earlier and he still hadn’t responded.

You were in the middle of sulking and smashing a bag of hot Cheetos when your phone pinged. A soft gasp escaped you and you quickly picked it up.

Lias ❤️‍🔥: You ain’t mine right? Lose my number.

Your heart sank as you re-read the message. So he gets to keep a revolving door of women, but you go on one date now you’re the bad guy? Furiously, you typed out your next response. Your jaw dropped when you pressed send and the message went green.

He blocked me you gasped to yourself.

A few hours went by, and it never came. You kept waiting for it— a slick little follow up, the way he always did when he knew he had gone just a little too far. The response sat final in the text thread. You stared at it until your screen went black. You guys had fights in the past but never like this. Stack had never shut the door completely before, really he had never fully opened it either. But this time felt different.

Fine.

From that moment, it was on. You started answering Malik’s calls on the second ring, you let him take you out to dinner, and when he asked you if he could see you two nights in a row you said yes. One night, he kissed you outside the restaurant after the date. He waited to see if you’d pull away, instead you leaned in deeper. The kiss felt nothing like Stack’s. But the attention was real and constant, and it was better than the half-ass relationship Stack had been giving you. 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Four days. That’s how long Stack lasted before he tried to fill the void you left behind. 

The woman’s name was Tasha, she was real thick and real bold too. He met her at his club, she was staring him down like she heard all the rumors about him and wanted to know if they were true. This night, she’d been looking extra hard, and Stack was always aware of watchful eyes. 

He took her back to his place with full intent on giving her what she was looking for. Another easy and forgettable night with a face he probably wouldn’t remember in a few months unless they gave him a reason to.

The night started off easy enough once they made it back to his place. Tasha started kissing on him while he was preparing drinks, talking about all the things she wanted to do to him. Her perfume was too sweet and sharp in a way that made him miss the signature fragrance you always wore. Stack wandered over to the couch and sat down, legs spread wide. Tasha was on him immediately, she straddled him without waiting for an invitation, rolling her hips real slow like she already knew what he liked.

Out of habit, he rested his hands on her waist. His fingers didn’t dig in or stroke, wander to her ass, he just sat there looking bored. Tasha continued to pepper kisses across his jaw and he allowed it. But when she made her way to his lips— he turned his head sharply. 

The woman’s body tensed and she pulled away with a frown.

“You good?”

“I’m straight.”

Hesitantly Tasha got back into her groove, dragging her nails down his chest. The silence stretched and he could feel her getting frustrated in the way her body tensed. Still, he kept the same bored expression.

“You sure you good? Cause you actin’ real bored for a man who invited me over.”

Finally, Stack looked at Tasha. She was pretty. Nice body, pretty smile. There wasn’t anything wrong with her, but still Stack didn’t feel a pull low in his belly or any urge to flip her under him. There was no interest in hearing what she sounded like when she came or moaned his name. He just kept thinking about you. How your thighs slotted perfectly over his and how your mouth always tasted like whatever chapstick you’d chosen that day.

“Yeah, you right. I think you should go.” He mumbled, gently lifting Tasha off him by her hips. She didn’t move from where he placed her on the couch. She continued to sit, staring at him in blatant disbelief.

“You serious right now?”

Stack stretched and reached over, grabbing the remote. He clicked a button and the television came on, filling the silence of the room.

“Yeah.”

If looks could kill Stack would’ve been six feet under. 

Tasha rose from the couch hastily, snatching her bag from the coffee table before leaving. The door slammed behind her harder than it needed to and the echo of it sounded through the apartment. Still unphased, Stack let out a heavy sigh as he started flicking through different movies on Netflix. He kept the tv on, letting it consume the silence. Quiet had never bothered him before you.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Smoke stopped by to check on Stack two days later. Ever since they were in the womb, he knew when something was wrong with his twin. He didn’t knock when he stopped by, he always came in unannounced. Smoke walked into the kitchen and dropped the greasy takeout bag on the counter. He looked his twin over like he was diagnosing how bad the heartbreak was— and he’d never seen it this bad. Not even with Mary.

“You look like shit. Y’ain’t been sleepin’, have you?”

Stack was sitting motionlessly, halfway watching a basketball game with no idea of who was in the lead.

“I’m fine, what you got to eat?”

Smoke nodded his head silently as he started unpacking the food. But he didn’t leave the topic alone just yet.

“Y’all still on that silent treatment?” Now it was Stack’s turn to ignore the question, that was all the confirmation his brother needed. “Once you start catchin’ feelings, nobody else taste the same. Y’know that right?”

At this, Elias shot his twin a look that said leave it be. 

“Ain’t nobody catchin’ feelings.”

“You put that fine ass stallion out the other day ‘cause she wasn’t the one you wanted in yo lap.” Smoke’s voice stayed flat, bored almost. “That sound like not catchin’ feelings to you?”

The temperature in the room stayed the same despite the heaviness of Elijah’s words. As much as Elias wanted to curse at his brother and tell him he was wrong, he was right. Still, he mumbled an annoyed “whatever” and sat across from him at the table, fighting back a smirk when he noticed his favorite Indian food.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Bad news came the next Tuesday. The gym had put a hurting on Stack, and he was making his way from his car to his front door when Smoke pulled up. Evening was settling over the city, and his shirt was still clinging to his back with sweat from his work out.

“I got bad news.” Smoke said simply. Stack wiped his face with the bottom of his shirt as he slowly approached his brother’s car. If it warranted an in person visit, it was more than bad.

“What.”

“Saw ya girl at the comic bookstore on 5th street. She was with ol’ boy from the club, tall nigga.”

Stack went totally still and the towel in his hand stopped moving over his neck. 

“She still dealin’ with dude?” 

Shrugging once, Smoke held his hands up.  “Look like it to me. They was walkin’ out together and he was holdin’ a bag for her. Looked real comfortable if y’ask me.” He took in his twin’s ragged appearance before adding, “If you love that girl don’t wait too much longer. He got plans for her. I can tell.” That was all. He didn’t comment further, ask what his brother planned to do, or offer further advice. He delivered the last sentence and held Stack’s stare for a second longer than necessary before leaving.

When the conversation with his twin ended, Stack stood in his living room for a long while thinking hard. It was one thing for y’all to be at the club, but a bookstore date? Nah. That’s too close to home. He couldn’t stomach the idea of you going on real dates with this man. Smiling at whatever stupid thing he said, letting him touch you. The uncomfortability of it all settled deeper under his skin the longer he pictured it like a petulant sunburn. You weren’t even trying to hide that you were dealing with this guy anymore. You were just out here, dating in the open like he’d never put his mouth between your legs and made you shake.

Autopilot mode was the only way to describe Stack’s thought process once he entered the shower. The night at the club kept replaying behind his eyelids. The way you looked at him when he caught you. How you went back to Malik instead of staying, instead of going home with him. And especially— how you kept seeing this man even after Stack had told you to lose his number. Pride and jealousy wrenched together in his gut until he couldn’t tell which hurt worse.

When the water from the shower was cut off, he had already made his decision. The only way through this was to make you his. Quickly, he got dressed. Grey sweatpants a black t shirt, and the chain you always played with when you sat in his lap. He was out the door before the water had even fully dried on his skin.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

By the time Stack was halfway to your place he was fully dry and his thoughts had unfogged enough for his good sense to be activated. He couldn’t come over empty handed. He shook his head at the thought of coming to your place and agitating you without having food to soothe you after. Only a fool would do something so stupid. So, like a good boy, he stopped and ordered your favorite food and grabbed your preferred wine and some flowers for good measure. His elders always taught him you catch more flies with honey than vinegar. 

The bags sat in the passenger seat of the car and Stack kept looking over at the flowers like they might disappear if he didn’t check. By the time he pulled up at your place he had rehearsed what he wanted to say a million times over in his head. He was coming to fix things, and he brought things you liked because some part of him thought it might make a difference. He knocked on your door in that familiar rhythm only he used. You knew it was him without checking the peep hole.

When you swung the door open, your attitude was on full display. There he was, bags in one hand and flowers in the other. The familiar scent of his soap clung to his skin and his hair was still damp. The second he laid his eyes on you his expression softened and he forgot everything he planned to say. Except for,

“You datin’ niggas now?” His voice was pained and tight. Your gaze dropped to the items he was holding and drifted back up to his face. Grudingly, you stepped to the side and allowed him to come in.

He watched with greedy eyes as you sauntered into the kitchen to grab wine glasses, hips switching and jiggling your ass as you walked.

“Do my eyes deceive me, or is a man who told me to lose his number actin’ brand new?” You grumbled, avoiding eye contact. Stack shut the door behind him with a quiet click. The bags were set down with more care than his voice had. Suddenly, the space felt a lot smaller than it did before. Stack crossed his arms over his chest and his eyes moved over your face like he was looking for something.

“You out here goin’ on dates, my patnas tellin’ me you still spendin’ time with ol’ boy after I caught y’all at the club.” Your expression remained unchanged as you uncorked the wine and began pouring the glasses. “Why you bein’ like this?”

When you still didn’t answer, just raised an eyebrow in annoyance, he increased his proximity. You felt the solid heat of him against your back. He wasn’t touching you— yet. Just letting you feel the warmth of him against you. Then, he brushed his lips against the back of your neck and said, 

“Tell me baby. Why you doin’ me like this, hm? Like I ain’t never stroked you so deep you cried for me ‘cause it felt so good… like this lil body don’t react every time I touch it.” As if on cue he pressed his lips against the side of your neck and you let out a soft involuntary sound, leaning back into him instinctively.

“You made the rules stack. Don’t get mad when I finally start playin’ by ‘em. And you damn sure don’t just get to show up with food and these sorry ass flowers like that fixes everything.”

He pressed his back against your chest fully now and mumbled, “Look at me.” When you didn’t, he gently turned you in his arms by your waist. His voice was barely above a whisper when it came out. “I don’t wanna see you with nobody else. I don’t wanna think about somebody else knowin’ how sweet those pretty lil moans sound when you get like that. So I need you to tell me it still belong to me.”

The audacity of this man was astonishing honestly. You stared at him unblinking. The raw honesty in his voice almost had you until you remembered that last nasty text he’d sent. Then your eyes sharpened.

“I’m not yours. You never claimed me.”

“I’m claimin’ you now” he replied simply, as if it was obvious.

“No” you shook your head firmly. “You only sayin’ that because somebody else wants me. You comin’ over here today doesn’t change that.” His hands came to rest on either side of you on the counter, trapping you in between his arms. 

“I’m sayin’ it ‘cause I mean it. I’m done pretending I don’t”

When he leaned in, you instinctively leaned back. You held his gaze for a moment and he respected the distance. It lasted for only a second. Once his thumb brushed over the exposed skin of your belly, you allowed him to catch your waist and pull you in. Initially the kiss was pride and anger. Teeth and tongue, both looking for dominance. 

The second time your lips joined, it was slow enough for him to slide his tongue against yours in a tantalizing rhythm. A small sound escaped your lips without permission, and Stack’s breathing changed when he heard it. By the time you went in for a third kiss, you were on top of the counter and he was fully between your legs spreading them wider. His hands were roaming under your shirt like he’d been starving for the feel of you.  

“You still mad, I know.” he said the words in between needy kisses. “But I know you missed me just as much as I missed you.” He voice had dropped several octaves and it was rough with lust. Your pulse quickened against his lips as he kissed your throat and he squeezed your hips to show he noticed.

“Fuck you, Stack”

“Oh I’m bout to, baby. Don’t even worry that pretty lil head.”

With that, he lifted you from the counter and you reflexively wrapped your legs around his waist. Straight to the bedroom you went.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Clothes hit the floor in random pieces until they were all gone. Stack made himself comfortable between your legs and gazed over your features as if he was still deciding how nice he was gonna be to you. Whatever he saw made his pupils become more dilated with lust— most likely your stubborn unwillingness to secede.  When he kissed you his tongue moved slow and thorough like he was trying to make you forget every bit of the argument you two had.

A hand drifted between your legs and he groaned against your lips when he found that you were already wet for him. His eyes flicked down to your sex and back to your face, watching your expression closely as he slid his middle and ring finger inside you. A satisfied grin made its way across his features when your lips parted and your lashes fluttered against your cheekbones.

“This pussy gon’ tell me it missed me even if you don’t.” he cooed as he continued his torment, curling his fingers just right against that spongy spot inside you. Your thighs twitched and a shaky breath passed your lips. Your hips chased his fingers and he drank in every little pleasured expression greedily. He paid close attention every time your expression changed.

“Tell me it’s mine” he murmured. When you shook your head stubbornly, he used his other hand to push your—his— t-shirt under your collarbones and just above your breasts. He latched a hot mouth to your areola, drawing a surprised cry from you as he suckled your nipple gently into his mouth. Your refusal to give in to him ignited something. A third finger joined the others and pressed harder, thumb circling your clit with precision until your thighs started shaking.

“Say it baby, stop playin’ with me. This pussy loves me just as much as I love you.”

A small squeak escaped you as your hips chased his hand desperately. You’d been craving his touch just as much as he’d been craving your presence in his bed at night. Still, in all your stubbornness, you uttered,

“Make me”

When the words he desired never passed your lips, he withdrew his fingers and sucked them into his mouth, holding your eye contact steadily as he tasted your essence. Hungrily, you tugged at his sweats. Stack drew his teeth between his bottom lip when his length sprung free, hard, thick, and leaking pre-cum. You nearly drooled at the sight, not having seen it in two weeks. Before you could touch him, he shifted you onto your back. And before you knew it, your calves were pinned on either side of your hips.

Stack dropped his forehead to yours as he gently dragged the head of his dick between your folds, nudging your clit intentionally each time. He waited until your expression grew needy with want before gently pushing past your entrance. He stretched you slowly, head dropping further into your neck the further he sank into you. When he was buried inside you, he let out a deep exhale. Like he’d been homesick and was finally home.

“Fuck— I missed bein’ this deep inside you. You feel that baby?” He lifted his head now, longingly staring into your irises. “That’s me puttin’ it back where it belong. Go on dates if you want, keep lettin’ that nigga buy you books. But this right here still answer to me. Say it.”

Instead of answering you whimpered and the sound make his stomach tighten. He adjusted his angle so that the head of his dick massaged intensely into that swollen bundle of nerves that only he seemed to find so easily. Your eyes flew open and a high-pitched moan flew past your lips. His breathing hitched as he watched the way your lips trembled. Something real close to satisfaction settled over his features.

“Yeah, that’s it baby. Whenever I kiss that lil spot just right you start shakin’ for me. Keep them pretty eyes on me. Wanna see what you look like when you finally stop fightin’ it.”

And true to his word, he stayed right on that spot. Your walls started fluttering around him and he noticed the change immediately. He slowed his strokes, deliberately dragging them out to hear you moan real pretty for him. When your first orgasm hit, your mouth fell open and your eyes went glassy. Stack drew his bottom lip between his teeth as the sight and kept grinding through it, relishing in the way your expression grew desperately needy.

“That’s one. Still ain’t said it though.”

You were still riding through the aftershocks of your first orgasm when he hooked both your legs over his arms and folded you deeper into the mattress. The new angle forced a high-pitched sound he hadn’t heard before from your lips and his eyebrows rose in both enjoyment and surprise.

“Stack— wait. Too much” you stuttered through deep breaths.

“Nah. You said make you, right?” He ground against that small bundle nerves in slow circles and your face twisted with ecstasy. Stack’s own expression tightened with hunger as he watched you. “So I’m gon’ make you. Say it belong to me.”

Unwilling to relent, you shook your head even as waves of pleasure crashed through your core. He saw the refusal sitting behind your eyes and his strokes got meaner, more precise and deliberate. Your stomach clenched again and your thighs trembled against his arms. He felt every little flutter and took pleasure in knowing the words he desired were an orgasm away.

“Say it, baby.”

“It’s yours Elias, it’s yours.” You cried as your second orgasm rose slowly but intensely. His eyes closed and the words fell over him like a prayer. The confession hit him harder than expected. When he opened them again, he was completely focused and he drove deeper.

“Again” he mumbled against your lips.

“It’s yours” you whimpered brokenly. He leaned down and brushed his lips over yours. Not really kissing, just letting you feel the soft heat of his mouth against yours while he kept up that focused rhythm between your legs. Every time the head of his dick dragged over that spot, your pussy clenched and fluttered around him.

“Stack—” you stuttered, voice still shaking. “It feel… it feel so good when you dig in me like that. Right there, please, I think I’m gon cum again”

He moaned softly against your lips, a low intimate sound that was pulled deep from his chest. He kept repeating that same motion, intentionally grinding into that little spot over and over again in relentless strokes. He watched your face the whole time. His eyes tracked the way your brows furrowed and how your lips parted every time he pushed inside you a little deeper. The orgasm started pulling out of you in long, drawn out waves. Those little sounds that Stack had missed so dearly kept spilling past your lips as you creamed around him in messy gushes. His jaw went tight when he felt it.

Right as the orgasmic wave hit its peak, he pulled back just enough to look you in the eyes. His were dark with need.

“Open”

You opened your mouth without hesitating, and he let a string of saliva drop from his lips onto your tongue. The second it landed you swallowed and your orgasm intensified hard. Your pussy clenched around him in intense, rhythmic pulses and another rush of cream squelched around his dick. The wet sounds got obscenely loud and Stack’s gaze stayed locked on your face. He admired the way your expression cracked even further, like the sight of it was doing something to him.

“That’s it, good girl baby.” He groaned against your mouth. “Take it just like that. Let me feel how wet you get when I stroke it real deep like this. Tell me again. Who it belong to?”

“You” you sobbed, completely fucked out at this point. “It’s yours, Stack. I promise.”

Something in his expression softened and he kissed you deep and slow while he continued fucking you through the aftershocks, never fully letting the overstimulation fade.

“I got you, mama. This stays mine. These legs stay open for me… this soft lil pussy only gon’ get wet like this for me. Promise me.”

“Yes, anything. You can have whatever you want. This pussy’s yours” your voice was still shaking from the intensity of your orgasm.

“Fuck— gon’ make me cum talkin’ to me like that girl” he growled. Only when you had promised yourself to him several times over and your body was trembling non-stop did he bury himself as deep as you’d take him. His eyes stayed locked on yours as he came, and a low, primal sound left his chest while his dick pulsed hard inside you. He watched your pretty face the whole time, like he needed to see you were taking it.

After, he stayed inside you, still breathing hard. One hand stroked over your hip where it met your belly like he still couldn’t believe you’d given yourself to him like this. His pupils were still dilated and searching your face.

“You mine. That ain’t changin’” he said quietly. It wasn’t a question. Just a fact he decided to force into existence. You didn’t answer. You were still shaking and your adrenaline was still pumping. The anger hadn’t fully subsided yet but something warm and tender was taking its place. He kissed you again, slower and deeper this time, and still didn’t pull out.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

please respect my work 💌 Everything posted here is written by @brownsugarletters. Please do not repost, copy, translate, claim as your own, upload to AI tools, or share my writing outside of Tumblr without permission.

I put a lot of care into these stories, so please keep them here and respect my space.

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

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

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

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

“Because I was gonna fix it later.”

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

“Alright, enough.”

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

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

You and Erik protested in unison.

“I’m not going with him.”

“I’m not going with her.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He looked away every time, like it irritated him.

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

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

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

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

“Especially not yo ass.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You gave your name, and Erik gave his.

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

Erik stepped forward. “What glitch?”

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

You glared. Erik blinked. The receptionist swallowed.

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

Silence only lasted for half a second.

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

“Hell nah,” Erik echoed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You whipped around, scandalized. “EXCUSE ME?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I ain’t even say nothing.”

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

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

You blinked. He blinked.

“…the hell was that?” he muttered.

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

You turned slowly. “Erik?”

“Mmhmm?”

“Can’t engineers fix this?”

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

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

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

You swallowed, breath catching despite yourself.

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

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

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

“Oh, nigga please—”

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

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

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

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

“It was literally a match,” you deadpanned.

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

“I—” You choked. “I am not!”

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

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

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

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

You spun. “We’re not sharing.”

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

“Be my guest.”

“I will.”

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

He shrugged. “So?”

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

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

“I ain’t say all that…”

“Then I’m good.”

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

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

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

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

“Lie again.”

You opened your mouth, but nothing came out.

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

Your heart hammered, but somehow your pride held firm.

“We’re not sharing,” you blurted.

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

You blinked. “Excuse me?”

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

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

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

The tension was electric, one spark away from igniting.

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

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

You inhaled sharply. “Erik…?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fantastic.”

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

You eyed the flames. “I’ll manage.”

He huffed a laugh. “Right. Sure.”

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

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

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

He had the audacity to smirk.

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

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

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

His jaw tightened. “You cold?”

“Nope.”

“You lying.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your face heated. “I don’t stare.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He saw your silence and confirmed the truth inside it.

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

You inhaled sharply, your body betraying you entirely.

Erik’s jaw flexed. “Uh-huh.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Neither,” you lied.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You want me?” he asked.

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

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

His eyes softened. “Relax, Mama.”

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

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

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

“Tell me to stop.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your breath stuttered. “Erik—”

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

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

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

You did because you couldn’t not.

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

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

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

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

You caught it immediately.

“What?” you asked, eyeing him suspiciously.

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

“Nothing,” he muttered unconvincingly.

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

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

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

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

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

Your breath caught. “I—what?”

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

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

You stared at him, stunned.

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

He smiled, completely unbothered by your shock.

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

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

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

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

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

“I am,” you shot back weakly.

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

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

“Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, Daddy.”

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

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

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

“E—Erik.”

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

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

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

“Erik.”

“Why you was hiding all this from me?”

“Erik.”

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

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

“Eri—ohfuckohfuck—Erik, please!

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

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

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

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

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

“At least take your sweater off, E.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Erik…”

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

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

“I can’t help it. You feel too good.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Say it,” he commanded, voice rough.

“Daddy—” you gasped, clutching his shoulders.

“Again.”

“Daddy!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Eri—fuckmefuckme—don’t sto—stop!”

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

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

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

Thwap. Thwap. Thwap. Thwap.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Daddy—Erik—fuck—your pretty girl!”

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

“I’m gonna—I—fuuuck!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

Wait—a mattress?

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

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

“The fu—?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your cheeks warmed, and words caught in your throat.

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

You blinked. “And you—”

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

Your soul left your body.

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

“ERIK—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Don’t call me that.”

“Why not? You liked it last night.”

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

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

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

Oop, he wasn’t fucking around.

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

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

You nodded and whispered. “What about you?”

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

“Why you had to wait on me—“

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

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