. . . ZOOOOM!

an electric blue, 1995 mazda widebody fd rx7 flys down the street. driving through lights, regardless of the color change. the wind brushes against chickie’s cheeks as the car veered left. she stretches her arm out the window, she hummed. the air is a bit chilly but it feels good against her skin. the mazda slowed down at a red light.

“i thought you said you wanted to cruise. it feels like you’re racin’,” chickie murmurs pulling her arm back inside. she turned toward the driver’s side.

he glances at her, his lips forming into a lopsided grin. “was cooped up, haven’t been behind the wheel all day, let me flex,”

flex he did.

chickie’s heart fluttered watching his skillful hands maneuver the gear shift with ease. his nimble fingers tap on the steering wheel to the rhythm of the music. a part of her mind wonders how his hand would fit into hers or how the rough callous on his palms would feel against her skin.

“can we stop at the store? i want some snacks,” chickie spoke aloud. she focused her eyes on the road and away from from his hands.

“it’s one up ahead,” with one hand, he effortlessly maneuvers the wheel, his palm gently guiding it as the car turns at a right corner.

so smooth.

the madza slowly pulls into a spot across from a brightly, colored convenience store. chickie unbuckles her seat belt.

“you want anything?”

“nah, i’ll just share with you,” chickie playfully rolls her eyes. she steps out of the car and heads straight into the store.

chickie comes out minutes later with a boat load of snacks and drinks. already, half way done with her snickers, she almost chokes, from she sees. her friend, her favorite guy.

han leans against the car, his body, totally relaxed like he doesn’t have a care in the world. a cigarette hangs from his full lips, as han rakes a hand though his inky, black tresses. the street is quiet as the plastic bag swishes back and forth. with every step, chickie feels like her heart is gonna leap out of her throat.

she can’t really pin-point when it happened or how it happened but it just did. it was like chickie went to bed one way and woke up another. every little thing han lue did set her a flame, even simple things like tonight, calling her up at 1:00 AM asking if she wanted to go for a ride. she all but leapt out of her bed room window when heard the engine of the madza coming down the street.

as exhilarating as her crush on han was she knew that it wouldn’t go anywhere. he was her best friend and on top of that the growing rivalry between his crew and her cousins, both vying for control over parts of south-east la, didn’t add much to the equation. in fact it subtracted from it. so chickie just settled for her mushy, unrequited feelings and distracted herself with other things. this time, nitpicking han’s smoking habits.

“i thought you were quitting,” chickie hoists herself on the hood of han’s car. she digs into the bag, pulling out soda and a pack of twinkies.

a week prior, han told chickie that he was going to quit, cold turkey. that and some other ramblings of needing to get out of “this place”. over the course of their friendship, chickie can tell when han is tired or sleep deprived. typically a man of few words, he becomes talkative and super rambly when exhausted. there was a small part of that was happy han was quitting, but she should’ve known better, old habits die hard.

han takes a long pull. he blows the smoke away from chickie’s direction. “i am. haven’t had a cig in three days,”

“but you said you went cold turkey,” chickie takes a bite of her twinkie.

“listen,” han leans towards chickie, “i’ll go cold turkey when you tell y’re pops about your new jewelry,” he reached towards her stomach and lightly flicked her belly button piercing.

chickie squatted his hand away. “boy, please another piercing isn’t gonna hurt anyone. my body, my choice. besides, cigarettes aren’t good for you,”

han chuckles. he takes another pull, blowing the smoke up towards the sky. he shrugged. “does it matter? health isn’t my priority. especially the way i’m livin’,”

chickie frowns. “i don’t like when you talk like that,”

han take another pull, longer than the previous. the cigarette is a nothing but a stubby bud now. he flicks it away. slowly, he turns and faces her.

“you worry about me too much,”

“i feel like i don’t worry enough,” chickie said quietly. she avoids his eyes, keeping them toward the lights of the convenience store.

“you hoggin’ all the snacks,” before chickie could respond, han pulls her hand towards him. a prickly, chill runs down her spine. The roughness of han’s callouses feel good against her skin. frozen in place, chickie watches han lean down and bite the twinkie in her hand.

she feels everything.

the slight, soft-wetness of han’s mouth on her skin. his nimble tongue as it gently slides and swirls around the tips of chickie’s fingers. her works in over time, completely thudding against her chest, as han pulls away from her. for second, chickie sees a certain glint in the deep, brown pools of his eyes.

he chews. han smirks at her.

“there’s a race on saturday. you should come,” han says, leaning back, casually.

chickie took a sip of her soda. hoping for the coolness of the drink to cool her down. she takes another sip and thinks, if he could do that, so could i.

“i dunno,” chickie trails. she innocently, fiddled with her bracelet, playing with the race-car charm, the same one han got her a year ago, in honor of the mutual love for cars. she looks at him, batting her eyelashes, subtly, “i might be, busy,”

han’s eye brow rose. “busy?”

“yeah, i might have plans, or something,”

“what, like a date?” chickie notices a slight change in han’s demeanor. his jaw tightens, emphasizing the angles of his cheekbones.

chickie attempts to channel her best han impression, shrugging her shoulders in the most nonchalant way. han grows quiet, slowly nodding his head. he leans off the car and positions himself in front of her. in quick movements, han pulls chickie close. fingers flutter across her exposed stomach.

han tickles her.

“han! stop, please! o-okay, okay, okay! i’ll come, i can’t breathe,” chickie squeals, attempting to push han away from her.

“say you’ll come,” han somehow managed to snake a hand to the back of chickie’s neck. he gently holds her in place, while he continues to tickle her.

“ooo-okay! i will come, please,” han eases off of her. he watched as chickie caught her breath. she shoves han’s shoulder, “asshole,”

they laugh.

“seriously though,” han rolls his shoulder, keeping his gaze on chickie, “i need you there. i wanna see my favorite girl,”

club exquisite was in full swing. bodies packed the building, from wall to wall, people were dancing, drinking, or doing both simultaneously. multicolored strobe lights swirled and danced, combinations of blues, greens and reds illuminated the dance floor, complimenting the dj’s killer set of miami’s finest.

it was lively and fun.

armando, however, was having anything but.

tucked away in a corner booth of the v.i.p., armando sat bored out of his mind, sipping on way too sweet champagne. he should’ve been doing something more useful with his time. instead, he was stuck playing babysitter for the son of a future drug connect, all this per his mother’s instructions.

. . .this marriage between his son and your cousin, alejandra will benefit us. our partnership will bring us one step closer, it’s all apart of the grand design mijo. . .

was sipping champagne that tasted like super sugary, ginger ale a part of the grand design? apparently. watching the groom-to-be snort a line of coke off of girl’s ass was a part of the grand design too. armando took another sip from the flute before sitting it down on table, watching as the girl giggled and kissed sebastian on the mouth. armando never cared for sebastian, they were just so different from one another. sebastian was a pretty boy who liked pretty things, he never worked a day in his life and instead of doing his own thing, he basked in the glory of his father’s notoriously ruthless reputation. armando was self-made, haunted by his father’s death and forged by the fire of mother’s imprisonment. armando blazed his own path and was destined for greater things.

yet, he was here in miami, clubbing with sebastian’s and his pack of idiot friends.

a heavy hand shook him out of his thoughts.

“primo,” sebastian slurred. he swiped at his runny nose, before running hand down his half buttoned shirt. “c’mon, we’re going to the real v.i.p.,”

slightly relieved, armando followed sebastian as the bachelor party were lead by security out of the main dance floor. as they weaved between the crowd, armando trailed slightly behind, keeping a careful eye out on the crowd. despite never being in a fight in this his life, sebastian had a fuck ton of enemies. he was like that. the music became a faint murmuring as the group walked through a door and into an elaborately painted hallway. the walls were a warm golden color, while the ceiling and its floors were covered in mirrored tile. the group continued on, armando continued to linger in the back. amongst the drunken laughter of sebastian and his friends, was this clicking sound.

click! . . . click! . . . click!

armando searched around for the sound as they continued down the hallway, eyes roamed around until he found the source, woman in a pair of high heels. they weren’t just any, regular pair of heels, they were black-patent leather so kate louboutins. fortunately enough for armando he’s familiar with the shoe, he may or may not have purchased a pair or two for his past situationships. armando continues to observe; taking in the details, the woman’s shapely and toned legs, the rich brown skin, and the intricate zipper tattoo that began at the back of her ankle, and traveled up her leg. the remainder of tattoo was lost from the fabric of her dress.

a curiosity sparked inside of armando, watching the woman confidently strut the mirrored floor. he wanted to see just how far the tattoo went. she continued leaving a lingering smell in her wake. it was a combination of warm and spicy, like cinnamon and peach pie. her fragrance filled the molecules in the air he could practically taste it. after turning a corner, the group came to halt in front of pair of doors. from the other side, a pair of security guards opened up the doors.

sebastian and his friends drunkenly ooo-ed and ahh-ed and the ornate nature of the room. armando could care less about the sliver couch, the decked-out bar or the strippers that awaited them upon their arrival, he focused on her. although he got better view, she still alluded him, he could see her from the back, fully, a black bandage dress, accentuated her curves and that ass. . . it looked so round and perky like you could bounce a quarter off it, or grab a handful.

something slowly churned inside of armando as he moved further into the room. he leisurely grabbed a seat on the far end of the couch, with the hopes of seeing his mystery girl's face. the party continued on with the speakers on the room ceiling playing a feed of the dj’s set back out on the dance floor. sebastian and his groomsmen settled on the couch, excited for their lap dances. the lights dimmed too, not enough obscure one’s sight completely, but dark enough to bring on a certain atmosphere to the space.

armando scanned the room for his mystery girl. somehow she’s disappeared on him.

“aren’t you pretty one,” a voice whispered to him, distracting armando from his search. standing before was a woman, one of the strippers. her voice was overly smoky and performative. even the way she batting her long, wispy lashes, she was trying way too hard. he tilted his head away from his obstructed view, “you wanna dance, papí?” armando glanced up at her, a laugh bubbled up inside of him, he suppressed it, for her sake of course.

“nah, sweetheart. i’m good,” armando rasped. the woman shrugged, on to the next. when the stripper moved, standing directly in his sight was his mystery girl. even through the darkness, she was as clear as day.

her heart-shaped face, her button nose and glossy lips, her disney-drawn eyes, brown and wide, in they way they’ve always looked when she was shocked or anxious.

armando’s mystery girl, was no mystery at all. he knew her.

before he could call out to her, she bolted out of the room through the doors. armando glanced at sebastian, who was having a grand ‘ol time being motorboated by a voluptuous stripper. he’s fine. armando took off, following the cinnamon-peachy scent out to the hallway.

she was almost at the end of the hallway. . .

“leyna?” she stopped. she slowly turned around and faced him. “you runnin’ from me?”

her brows furrowed. “i wasn’t running. i was just. . .getting some air,”

armando’s lips twitched. he sauntered over, baring no shame is as he took, no, drank leyna in. it’s been so long, his eyes roamed over leyna. armando took his time, observing, noting every single detail, both old and new. he zeroes in on her legs, watching has she nervously bounces her right leg, the tattooed one. her louboutins make a soft clicking noise against the floor.

armando smirks.

“still shakin’. . .you must be nervous,” armando gestured, it was a tick leyna’s had since she was a kid. leyna frowned, she stopped bouncing. she folded arms around her chest.

“please, i’m not nervous,” she sassed. her glossy lips pursed, forming into a small pout. such a brat. he wanted to kiss the pout off her lips. “anyways, what are you doing here, in miami?”

for a moment, he thinks. armando could tell her the truth flat out: he’s here in miami for business, and his only job was ensuring that sebastian, sober or not, makes it down the isle. . .or he could stretch the truth out. make it a game for himself. anything to distract leyna, even if it’s for a short while.

so, armando shrugs. “business,”

“business? that’s it? it’s been ten years armando, that’s all you have to say?”

armando steps closer to leyna. his over 6-foot frame easily towers over her petite 5-foot-3 frame. has she always been so tiny? he reaches out towards her, the corner of his lips twitch as leyna’s chest rises as her breath catches in her throat. he twirls a long strand of between his fingers, before giving it a gentle tug.

“s’ somewhere we can talk?”

“armando,” leyna sighed. her voice was all high and pitchy, it scratched a certain part of his brain. a flood of memories came surging through. he need hear leyna say his name like that again. “i’m working. both of us should get b-back,”

leyna moves past him, armando doesn’t protest. as she starts walking away, armando reaches into his pant’s pocket.

“how much?” leyna spins around on her heels. a flicker of curiosity dances in her eyes.

“huh?” armando watches leyna eyes light up even more when pulls a money clip out. he thumbs through several bills before he lifts it up.

“its ‘bout three g’s in my hand. should be enough for a shift plus tips, yeah?” her eyes bounce between the money and armando. he can see the wheels in her mind turn, she chews on the bottom of her glossy lips.

“10-minutes. that’s all i can do,” armando nodded. he placed the money in her hand, his fingers gently brushed against hers. ten minutes is all he needs.

armando follows leyna down the hallway, opposite of the party. his eyes roamed, watching leyna’s body sway as she walked. he shouldn’t be turned on from a walk but he was. leyna didn’t walk, she glided. so effortless, and so easy, better then any it was something about seeing her so confidence all these years later. it was refreshing, armando dealt with so many fakes and try hards in his line of business. leyna’s confidence was real. she was real.

“i can feel you staring,” leyna sassed. they stop at a door, she quickly inputs a set of numbers on a keypad. the door clicks.

“i like what i see,” leyna shakes her head, she opens the door, stepping aside to let armando walk in front of her.

the room itself was half the size of the v.i.p. room, and opposite in aesthetics too. the walls were painted a nice, creamy beige, with a matching colored couch. on the far wall, there was an elaborate shelf display old-used bottles of champagne. armando steps inside, taking the room in. the door softly closes, with a click. the room is quiet.

“so,” leyna drawls. she takes a seat on the couch. armando follows suit, sitting next to her. their knees almost graze each others. she flips her hair over her shoulder. “wanna tell me the real reason why you’re here in miami?”

armando chuckles. “a wedding. my cousin ‘s gettin’ married,”

“alejandra?” she remembered, of course she did. she was always to so knowledgeable and attentive. she used to be like that to him.

“yeaaah. she’s been lovin’ bein’ in charge of everybody with the plannin’ and stuff,”

“i hope she’s not bogging you down too much,” his lips tipped into a teeny-tiny smile. she still was still the ever-doting teacher, worried about her student.

“nah. wedding plannin’ ain’t my thing. besides, i’m just assigned babysittin’ duty for sebastian,”

“mhm. i would’ve never paired them together. alejandra, from what i remembered, was so kind, and funny, smart too! sebastian is just a grade-a asshole who likes wreck every club he goes to and piss in public,” armando chuckles as leyna shivers, maybe recalling a memory. armando reaches for the hem of her dress, he toys with it between his fingers. she doesn’t stop him.

“she loves ‘em i guess,” part of that was true, their marriage was arranged yet, alejandra told him that she’s learned to love parts of sebastian. there’s a part of him that wished it wasn’t like that for her.

“i wish her the best,” leyna spoke solemnly.

the room fell quiet, armando still toyed with the edge of leyna’s dress. he tipped his head, looking at leyna.

“you’ve been good though, yeah,” he meant for it to be question but it came out as a statement. she had to be good though, she looked good, and had this fancy ass job at one of miami’s most exclusive clubs. life had to be good.

leyna’s leg began to bounce, as she twirled a strand of hair around her finger. “yeah, i guess. my life’s been pretty boring since you’ve seen me,”

“tell me,”

“well. . .” leyna trailed. her leg still bounced. armando wanted grab her ankle and make her stop. why was his girl nervous? “i graduated, i gotta b.a. in business administration, got this hostess job short after, met my best friend ana here, let me tell you she’s literally the best cook,” she was rambling, slightly, but armando didn’t care, he wanted to know every single detail. he missed his girl, his bambi. they need to make up for lost time.

“we’re going into business together, a restaurant. i’m going to take care of all the logistics, put my degree to good use, finally. so, yeah, i’m really excited about it, as you can see. but yeah, uhm, what else, i was engaged,”

armando stopped toying with the hem. he turned and took her fully, her right leg bounced even more so. that’s what she was nervous about.

“what happened?”

“uhm,” her beautiful features held a pained expression. a twinge of anger sprouted inside of armando, seeing her like this. whoever made his girl upset needed their ass kicked, especially by him. “to make a long story short, he cheated, multiple times actually. i just got tired being the laughing stock in every room,” she lowered her gaze and fiddled her hands.

armando slowly reached for leyna’s hands. her hands were so soft under his touch. with his thumb, he drew light circles on the back of her hands. a strange emotion was bubbling up inside him, he couldn’t put his finger on exactly what it was. a little anger, some jealousy, a little sadness too, it was just too much fully explain but the his urge was clear. armando wanted to pull her close, and take care of her like she truly deserves.

“he didn’t deserve you,” she looks at him now, her big brown eyes all wide and glossed over. long lashes fluttered against the tops of her round cheeks, her resemblance to bambi was spot-on. the air became thick around them, and that urge, thrummed in his bones.

armando wanted leyna and he wanted her bad.

“you deserved somebody that’ll take care of you,” he rasped. his words were sincere and true, leyna was one of the kindest, tentative, sweetest people he had ever known. she shown him a kindness when most people wouldn’t. leyna deserved the world, and then some. “you deserve someone who’s gonna protect you, an’ spoil you, an’ just fuckin’ be there,” words were spilling out of his mouth now, like faucet left on. he leans in closer to her, glancing down her glossy lips. he licked his own. “bambi, you deserve someone that can make you feel good,” armando was so dangerously close he could see a breath get caught in leyna’s throat, her chest slight rose up in response. he caught a glimpse of leyna’s jet-black bra that held up her ample cleavage. the peachy-cinnamon smell radiated off the column of her neck, it enticed him, slowly drawing him closer and closer to her.

armando leaned his forehead against her’s.

“fuck, bambi,”

“. . .armando,” leyna whispered. her voice was so pitchy and soft, it smoothed over him. it triggered a hunger for leyna, more veracious than ever before. ten years of distance and unresolved feelings, danced in his blood. his palms itched with desire to squeeze and caress leyna’s soft skin. he wanted to touch the softest part of her.

“please. bambi, ‘jus lemme care take of you, make you feel good. . . i never get what i want,”

leyna back away from him, keeping a steady gaze, she caressed the side of armando’s cheek. her manicured acrylics lightly scratched at his goatee. a bolt of electricity shot through his body when her thumb swiped at his bottom lip.

“i’ve only been with a few men after you,” leyna confessed. “none of them, including my ex, made me feel good like you did. you were the only one,”

armando groaned, lowly. everything in him surged to the surface, so much so he was bursting at the seams.

“c’mere,” leyna obliged. he pulls her in for a kiss. at first it was chaste and sweet, armando tried to ease into the kiss, but the pillowy, softness of her lips and her sweet peachy smell drove him insane. he deepened the kiss, moving his lips hungrily, against hers, while he cradled her head. when he licked her lips, leyna opened her mouth to allow him to explore with her with his tongue. she tasted like peach pie.

"i need it," leyna moaned into his mouth. armando hovered over her lips.

"you say somethin' bambi," he teased, he slid his hands down her frame, stopping at her ass. he rubbed and squeezed, before smacking it. she squeaked.

"baby, please," leyna whimpered, she climbed into armando's lap. she slowly, ground down on his lap, she gasped, feeling his hardness. the look she had in her eyes, a mix of lust and longing, shot straight through him and went to his dick. he snaked a hand towards the back of her neck, he gently gripped the soft flesh. she stopped her movement.

"take that fuckin' dress off," he groaned. leyna blinks. she rose from his lap and proceeded to shimmy out of the dress. she let it pool at her feet before stepping out of it. armando couldn't help himself, all of her smooth curves, and deep rich skin, he just wanted to take a big bite of her. he pulled her back to the couch, switching places, and slid between her legs.

there was no pretense, armando immediately spread her legs wide went straight for leyna's pussy. with his thumb he rubs at her clothed pussy. he revels in the small squelching noise that her pussy makes. leyna whimpers, looking down at him with those big, brown eyes. he chuckles.

“still sensitive?” leyna quickly nods. armando chuckles again, he peels her to the side, admiring the slivery trail of arousal that drips from her pussy onto the fabric. he hums. such a pretty pussy. leyna's pink pussy drips and drools with arousal, fully open and ready, all for him. with calloused thumbs, armando rubs small, droopy circles on the inner parts of leyna's thighs. he inched forward, replacing his fingers with chaste kisses, they create goosebumps on leyna's skin. he licks his lips, keeping his eyes on leyna, kisses her clit.

"fuck! armando,"

he anticipates. before she could ask, armando lays his tongue flat against leyna’s dripping core.

“oo-ooh,” she coos. “you ‘remembered,”

how could he forget, images of him buried between leyna’s shaky legs are burned into his brain. countless lessons from her, teaching him, guiding him. he swears he can hear her voice, way back when during that time.

. . .spread your tongue, a little to the left. yeah ‘just like that, s’ good. good boy. . .

a forceful yank on armando’s curls bring him back to reality. he adjusts his grip on leyna’s thighs, spreading them wider, the pads of his thumbs caressing the plushness.

“fuuuck me! oh my g-god,” leyna whines. armando smiles against her skin, his tongue licks a long stripe against leyna’s core. her arousal is sweet, like peach ice cream. it’s the sweetest thing he’s ever, will ever taste. his sweet girl. armando groans, pulling back slightly, he brings his calloused thumb to leyna’s swollen nub. armando rubs her clit, reveling in her response to his touch. she practically glows, deep brown skin, completely flushed, reddening a bit at her chest. her glossy lips formed into a cute pout, her bottom lip poking ever so slightly, just begging to be kissed, to be bitten by him. seeing her so overwhelmed, so pleasured, sends wave of arousal through armando. his erection painfully rubs against the fabric of his slacks.

“eyes on me, baby,” armando rasps. leyna’s struggle to stay open, succumbing to euphoria between her legs. smack! leyna’s disney-drawn eyes shoot open, to look down at armando. for a moment armando sees something flicker in them, it strips him bare, milliseconds feel like years under her gaze. armando pulls back, spitting directly onto leyna’s pussy. with a new vigor, he dives back in, his tongue licks and drags up and down her softness. his tongue swirls the mix, leyna’s honeyed arousal and his spit, gathering and spreading it onto her clit. he begins suckling the nub, feeling leyna’s sugary essence drip down his goateed chin.

“a-armando! wait s-slow down,”

“uh-uh. you’re my big girl,” he spits, again. armando slurps leyna’s clit, hard. no better then a starving man. “you can take it,”

“c-cumin’. i’m cumin’ baby, pleaseee,” leyna lets out a melodious whine. better than any song or music he’s ever heard. nothing can compare to his girl’s angelic voice, all pitchy and delicate. it’s music to his ears.

“ 's i got you. i got you bambi, let it out,” armando drawls. he sucks at leyna’s clit as it throbs against his tongue. her legs clamp down around armando’s head, this makes him push harder to get her over the edge. he switches his approach, one hand pries open leyna’s leg, with the other he slips his middle finger inside her entrance, slowly prodding her open, he flattens his tongue to lap at her clit. with the other hand he reaches, palming one of her bra covered breasts.

“s-shit! don’t stop please,” leyna is babbling now. she rakes her nails through armando’s thick curls. armando can feel her tightening around his middle finger. she’s close. . .

bam! the band snaps. leyna orgasms hard.

her sugary, syrupy essence flows out of her. leyna holds armando’s head close, she rides out her aftershocks, jerking lightly when his tongue and nose glides over her sensitive clit. slowly, armando pulls away, a string a saliva connects from his lips to leyna’s pussy. he rose up from his crouched position. armando towering over her, his eyes gazing down at her, dilated pupils heavy with dangerous mix, care and lust, maybe even something more. the soft lighting catches armando’s glistening goatee and cheeks. his pink tongue swipes at his bottom lip, like a coyote eyeing its subdued prey.

leyna was everything at the same time. his baby take care of, his princesa to spoil, and his bambi to devour.

“h-how’d you get so good,” leyna stammered. her breathing is still a bit choppy.

“learned from the best,” he rasps, he eyes slowly rake over, as if he was studying her. he wanted to remember her in this very moment.

leyna smiles, sheepishly.

“c’mere,” armando beckons. leyna obliges, she sits up, scooting closer to the edge of the couch. armando tilts leyna chin upwards, he leans in, capturing her lips. he nips at her bottom lip, when leyna opens her mouth, he seizes the opportunity to slip his tongue inside. she tastes herself on his tongue, it starts off tangy but quickly bleeds into a saccharine taste. their tongues wrestle. before, in this war of mouths, leyna used to win, mostly due to armando’s lack of experience, but now it’s much different. he wields his tongue masterfully like knight and their sword, twisting and tasting every inch of her mouth.

“you ready for me princesa?” leyna nods. he watches as her mouth opens and then closes when he slips his shirt over his head. she's pratically drooling at the sight. she should be, countless hours of training have contributed to his sculpted body, all muscles and hard edges. mindlessly her fingers trace over his chest. nails drag over the ridges of his six-pack. she stops her ogling when she sees a scar near his rib cage. armando notices.

“bar fight. fucker, got me good with a broken bottle. had to get a couple stitches,”

“oh baby,”

“hey, hey,” armando gently grabs leyna’s hand. he drags it up, so it cups his cheek. “i’m good,”

his voice holds sincerity as that strange feeling returns inside of him. that urge to hold and take care of leyna, to protect her from his woes, the world, and all its troubles. leyna reaches down to unbuckle his pants, but he stops her.

“not tonight, bambi. wanna be inside of you,”

leyna gulps. he cocks his head to the side.

“don't get all shy on me now," armando tilts her chin. "you know what to do, princesa,"

leyna peels out of her slightly ripped and soaked panties, she tosses them aside. she reaches behind for the clasp of her bra, she unbuckles it, carefully she lays it on the couch next to her dress. when leyna reaches down to slip off her heels, armando tsks.

“nah. leave ‘em on,” armando bites his lip, his eyes sweeping over her naked frame. she’s changed a lot over ten years, she’s curvier, with an obvious plushness and fullness in her breasts and ass. noticeably, there’s a small tattoo of a lotus flower on the upper right side of her rib cage. “fuck, bambi. you all grown up,”

leyna opens her mouth to retort but she shuts it as armando unbuttons his pants.

"you trust me?" armando huffs, he slowly pumps his hardness, feeling pre-cum leaking from his tip.

“of course, i trust you,” leyna replies softly.

“shit princesa. you can’t say stuff like that,” armando murmurs.

he slowly spins leyna around, her back was at his front. he made sure slowly grind his bulge into her, so she could feel all of him.

“soy el rey ahora,” there a slight edge in his voice, it contrasted with the soft circles he drew on the back of her neck. “on all fours, princesa,” leyna obliges. she moves towards the couch, planting herself on her hands and knees, and arches her back. armando groans as she makes a show of it, wiggling her hips in the process. “so pretty liked this. my sweet girl, my bambi, imma fuck the shit out of you,” armando all but growls. a hand reaches into her scalp, fisting her hair. he forcefully tugs at her locks, pulling her head backwards.

leyna whimpers. “baby ‘s rough,”

armando roughly spits on her pussy. he watches as the spit slides down, mixing with her slickness. he’s not nice, not like before. all the care and attention he paid towards her pussy, that armando was long gone. now, replaced with a meaner, tunnel-vision armando. he pushes himself, filling her to her hilt, his stretching out her pussy, all of ridges of his dick rubbing against her gummy walls. she's so warm and tight, a delicious contrast of pushing and pulling him further inside of her. a chill runs down leyna's spine while her manicured nails claw at the fabric of the couch.

“oh fuck!” leyna shouts, armando smacks her right ass-cheek. he executes a few shallow thrusts, barely moving in and out of leyna.

“how bad you wan’ it?” armando drawls.

“so bad baby, please fuck me, please,” leyna’s hoarseness sounds ethereal to him. the breathy way she sounds, the want, the need, makes him even harder. so much so it pains him.

“i got you,” armando tightens the hold he has on leyna’s hair and hip. he pulls all the way out, admiring the mess his girl makes on his dick. the glossy shine the covers him. he stifles back a moan, her warmth and softness send waves of pleasure straight to his dick. he bites down on his lip, watching leyna’s ass ripple against him with every stroke. a bolt of electricity shoots through him as she clamps down on him, her walls tighten, and grip at his dick. she's close.

"i feel you, you cumin' bambi?"

“y-yes, oooh fuck! i’m so close. don’t stop,"

a loud chiming erupts over the sex sounds leyna makes. armando can feel a vibration in his pocket. he reluctantly reaches and sees who’s calling his phone, he answers, while still keeping a steady pace. pumping in and in out of leyna.

“fuck, you want,” armando growls, one hand on the phone while the other holds onto leyna’s shoulder. she moans a little too loud, so he covers her mouth. over the phone one of sebastian’s groomsmen informs that sebastian has wandered off with one of the strippers, no one can find him and he’s left his phone behind. “fuck me. fuckin’ pendejo, i-i’ll be over in a minute, shit,” armando slows down his pace before pulling out completely, leyna whines at the loss of contract.

“i gotta go,” armando sighs. leyna now sits facing him.

“but why? what’s the matter?” his heart pangs at the disappointment that edges out in her voice. he quickly redresses, buckling his pants and slipping his shirt back over and on.

“a situation came up,” he leans down and kisses her on the cheek. “imma come an’ find you,”

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.

── .✦ ݁₊ . ݁₊ .✦ ݁──

it was really bad this time—a nightmare, viscous and wicked in nature, played itself over and over in a awful projection. parker couldn’t stop seeing the face of john. he was choking. eyes filled with desperation, clinging to life, only for it to be ripped from him. over, over, and over again. it was around the seventh cycle when parker finally woke up.

covered in sweat. heart surging in his chest. the whispers—parker had needed to move. he stumbled for the bathroom, steps clumsy and unmeasured. his hands gripped the edges of the bathroom sink with a white-knuckled intensity. parker’s attempts to ground himself was meant with labored breaths. in and out—exhaling, trying to gain some footing. but the reality, mean and unforgiving, pulled him backwards.

p-parker m’ sorry. he’s not moving—

john. his right hand. his voice of reason. his family—gone. parker gripped the sink harder. no, he couldn’t face it, the truth. a reality where john was no longer here, alive and breathing. yet, his mind conjured the truth, john was dead and all the more lost to him. the whispers grew. louder and louder til it reached a dangerous territory of actually competence, trying to tell him something. the lights flickered—pain ebbed from his scars. the toiling, the suffering—

“parker?”

her voice, grounded in a deep sense of calmness, cut through the static in his brain. and when her delicate fingers grazed his skin, parker almost fell apart.

“it’s getting worst, isn’t it?” her words were shrouded in a deep level of concern that buried itself, deep into the depths of parker’s heart.

parker lifted his head and met her eyes. kind and soulful things—he loved to get lost in them. this moment was no exception, despite the worry that swam in her brown orbs. her gaze calmed him, pulling him back to reality and away (at least for now) from the pain. the whispers slowly slinked back to the shadows of parker’s mind—he inhaled then exhaled.

“i wish i could do more,” she stepped closer and her hand rubbed soft circles against parker’s arm. the tips of her fingers traced lines of his many tattoos.“wish i could help,”

parker turned to face her. little did she know, she was helping. her presence alone, the calmness, the clairty, the warmth that radiated from her. she was kind and intuitive, cared about others but not beyond herself. she is self-assured but not selfish, people gravitated to her because she simply a good person. she was everything that parker wasn’t. he never resented her for it, instead, it made him want to do everything in his power to protect her.

parker’s hands trembled as he reached for her. he cupped her face, eyes roaming her face noting every feature—the bridge of her nose, the swell of her cheeks, the fullness of her lips. she was a goddess amongst men, how’d he manage to be in such a presence? softly, he kissed her forehead. then her nose and for a moment, parker hovered over her lips—he smirked at the needy pout that her lips formed. the resolve parker thought he had, crumbled away the moment his lips touched her’s. the kiss began slow, a bit mutual teasing the way parker gently kissed her. parker reveled in the pillowy softness of her lips against his own. warmth bloomed underneath parker’s skin. he pulled her close, kissed her deeper—licking into her mouth. their tongues in a sensuous battle with one another. she whimpered into his mouth. need rooted itself inside of him. parker’s hands slipped away from her face down to her arms, sneakily finding themselves at her lower back. parker slipped lower—there. he cupped her ass. lifting her up, she instinctively wrapped her arms and legs around him. never breaking the kiss. parker groaned inwardly at her nails as they caressed his scalp.

“w-wait,” she broke the kiss, licking her partially swollen lips. her eyes held sparks of lust amongst the worry. “should we be doing this? your…”

“ma,” parker leaned in resting his forehead against hers.“please,”

now it was her turn. she pressed her lips firmly against his. with newfound vigor, parker kissed her back, pouring all of his energy into pleasing her. every shiver, every moan spurred parker on—he turned them around and plopped her down on the sink counter. parker lips trailed from her lips placing wet kisses down to her jaw, all the way down the sensitive line of her neck, to her chest. he so badly wanted to rip the thin fabric of her camisole, get access to more of her heavenly brown skin, but he showed restraint. instead, he peppered more kisses down her camisole towards her erect nipples. they stood tall and proud against the fabric. he glanced up, meeting her eyes—filled with want. fuck, he wanted to ruin her.

“baby,” she whined. “no pretense tonight. i want you,”

those simple words shot straight to his dick. he could feel it, his bulge tightening against the fabric of his sweats. he nodded. parker made quick work of pealing off her shorts and panties. in nothing but the tank top and a bare below, she widened her legs. there weren’t enough words or phrases how perfect she looked. her pussy—pink. dripping. he could’ve swore he saw her clit jump—practically pulsating with need.

all for him, and him only.

a mean wave of possession washed over him. that need to show, to prove crept into his bones as he lowered to his knees. the closer he got to her wet core the sharper his senses became, completely keyed into her pleasure. parker kept his gaze, staring into her eyes as he flattened his tongue—licking a long stripe against her slippery folds.

“oh,” she whispered softly. her delicate brows furrowed. mouth agape. the pleasure was starting to grow her within.

parker licked again this time applying a bit of pressure against her clit. her hips bucked against him, pushing her wet core closer into his mouth. parker took the opportunity to latch onto her clit. he sucked hard.

“f-fuck! parker please! s-slow down,”

parker chuckled. “thought you said no pretense,”

he unlatched, and swirled his tongue round the nub. parker enjoyed seeing his love slowly unravel, her thighs quiver as parker unleashed quick, kitten like licks against her sloppy folds. her essence—sugary and honeyed—flowed onto parker’s tongue. he happily lapped up her wetness, continuously coaxing her to her peak. her clit pulsed, her walls quivered with anticipation.

“s-shit! parker - m’ so close,” parker smiled against her tilting his head back he spat on her pussy. his dick jumped at the sight, the glossy wad slowing dripping down her puffy lips. she whined softly, her nails scraped against the nape of his neck.

“look at you,” parker murmured. now, he stared into her eyes as he slipped his thick, calloused middle finger into her hole. with his thumb he teased her clit—rubbing slow circles. his other hand held her thigh down, keeping her in place. “you look so fuckin’ good right now. you wanna cum?”

she shook her head. “so fuckin’ bad baby,”

parker fucked her faster, circled her clit quicker. she was panting, her moans bounced off the walls of the bathroom. legs shaking, she was quickly reaching her peak.

“ah fuuuck me! oh my god- i’m c-cumming,”

parker dipped back down to catch her essence that flowed out of her. every drop landed on his tongue, parker drunk from her well like a starved man. her angelic moans were music to his ears as he drunk her dry. a quick prick of pain ebbed from the back of parker's neck as her nails dug into the skin. parker pressed a feather-like kiss onto her clit before standing up.

parker watched her slowly come down from her high. her relaxed position—the way she leaned back against the bathroom mirror, the way her chest rose and fell, the blissed out look on her face. her eyes combed him over, his exposed chest and arms. she reached out giving his deltoid an appreciative squeeze. without shame her hand traveled down his sculpted chest and abdomen, and straight to his dick. she palmed his bulge through his sweats.

"mmm, this what you want?"

she bit her lip, shaking her head yes.

"hold them pretty ass legs back," she nodded again. widening her legs, she slipped her hands underneath her plush thighs and held them up. "she missed me?"

before she could speak, her eyes widened. parker pulled his dick out—with a loud thwack! it hit his stomach. fully hard, his tip leaked out precum. he inched closer, hovering the tip of his dick above her pussy, so his precum could drip down onto her. he smiled, stroking his length, when she whined at the leakage slipping down her folds.

"so needy," parker pressed a firm kiss against her swollen lips. "s' good though, 'cuz i'm needy too,"

parker leaned forward, nuzzling his nose against hers. familiarity was his guide as he rubbed his dick between her slippery folds. up and down—his tip circling her hole. . .

then, the plunge.

“ah!” she hissed at the sudden stretch. parker bottomed out completely—he too groaned at the sensation. her tight, warm walls tightening around his member. pleasure coursed through his body.

“i know - shit. i feel it too. just hold on and i got you,” slowly, she adjusted around him, allowing for parker to move.

he pulled out, slowly, halfway before pushing back inwards. parker repeated this a few times, taking a few glances between them see the glittery shine that his coated his dick. he groaned. his girl marking her territory.

“p-parker - f-faster baby, please!”

she tightened around him, her gripped parker’s dick as he stroked inside of her. his balls tightened at the feel—her slippery walls squeezing and squelching against the ridges and veins of parker’s dick with every stroke. it was too soon, the feeling, his orgasm was bubbling up inside him. he tried slowing the pace, dragging his length slowly in and out her whole, but the way she gripped him, he wasn’t going to last to long. parker slowed his pace all the way down—pulling his length all the way out until it was just the tip.

she whined.

“baby,” she glanced down seeing were they met, the glossy shine left on his dick. she wiggled closer, attempting to engulf him back inside.

parker chuckled. when she squeezed around his tip, a puff of air left his chest. he adjusted, hooking his arms around her legs, positioning her perfectly. when he looked into her eyes, seeing the love, lust, the deep hunger she had for him—it drove parker wild. he plunged back into her wetness. parker’s hips plowed into her pelvis, while his balls slapped against her ass cheeks. the scorching hot sensation from the stinging skin slapping against each other was heavenly. mixed with the sound of his girls angelic moans—parker was reaching his peak and this time he wasn’t letting up.

squelching noises bounced off the walls of the bathroom, a reflection of parker’s strokes. he kept going deeper and deeper, his thick bulbous tip brushed her sweet spot, she clamped down on him.

“fuckfuckfuckfuck,” she mewled. each expletive increasing in octave and sound. “i’m cumming. i gonna cum,”

abruptly her voice cut, simultaneously, when parker felt the vice grip on his dick. she was choking his length as he felt her cream flowing out of her. with a mouth forming a perfect ‘o’, and fluttery eyelashes she was a work of art. parker continued to fuck her through her orgasm, another mean wave of possession washed over him as he saw the milky coating of her cum on his dick. some splashed onto his pubic hair, the other bit slid down to his balls, creating a sticky, sappy echo.

his girl was a dream.

parker fucked her through the last of her orgasm, relishing in how puffy and gummy her pussy became. the familiar sensation roared inside of him, he gripped her thighs tighter.

“it’s coming - damn, it’s coming mi amor, m’ cumming all in this pussy,”

“i-i feel in my s-stomach, baby! i wan’ it so bad, please cum in m-meeee,”

boom— his orgasm hit like freight train. stuttering hips and shaky breaths, parker unloaded. it was a lot. she moaned as parker shot ropes of cum inside her. more and more, thick, velvety ropes of cum shot against her walls. parker remained still as his dick pumped inside of her. she was stuffed full, yet there was more, parker saw some of his cum seep in a sappy manner, drip out of her pussy. a nasty pool formed below them on the tiled floor.

parker exhaled, allowing for some calm to reach his raging heart. he bent down and captured his girl’s lips for a sweet kiss—he attempted to pull out but she shot a hand out, gripping parker’s base.

“don’t,” her gaze was still heavy with lust as she lightly stroked him. “you feel so good inside me,”

“yeah?” she didn’t stop stroking. his dick, flaccid was starting to get hard again. “be good for me, lemme see all of you,”

she smirked. with her free hand, she pushed her cami down, free her gorgeous breasts, nipples hard with need. however, to her dismay, parker slipped away from her grip. a wolf like grin grew across parker’s face as he watched more of his cum slip from her puffy folds.

“turn around, mi amor. i wanna see your face in the mirror when i fuck you,”

── .✦ ݁₊ . ݁₊ .✦ ݁──

it bangs against the wall with chunky, noisy thuds, the everyday objects upon it knocking over, off, and rolling onto the floor as he fucks you from behind with a hand pressed at your throat. squeezing only just to keep you staring into the mirror attached to the drawers.

he's hunched over you, panting against your shoulder. animalistic grunts mixing with the loud squelches sounding from where the two of you meet, your pussy stretched and stuffed to the brim with his cock.

sweat drips from the both of you as he pounds out his frustrations over not being able to have any alone time with you for the past three goddamn hours. over having to sit with a stiff cock while your neighbors tug you away from him for stupid reasons. over seeing you prance around in that little skirt you only pull out for the summer months.

licking at your neck and ear, he comes hard with powerful smacks of his hips into your ass. thick cum flowing inside you and leaking out when you can no longer hold it anymore. it grows into an impressive puddle on the floor beneath you as he carries on. steadying the flick of his waist once more and pumping himself until you're gushing with a trembling cry.

he makes sure to wrap you tight to keep fucking you right there, until you're wailing his name loud enough for the neighbors to hear.

and now, during an interview for buzzfeed uk, not even playing the usual part of the big, brooding, 'bad boy.' his face is pinched up worse than usual, which just makes him look like a dick.

"fuckin' asshole," you mumble to yourself, rubbing your face to stop yourself from throwing one of your shoes at him when he starts giving short, one-word answers to the questions he's asked.

with a clenched jaw, you roll your eyes. ready for the day to be done.

⋆｡˚✴︎⋆

"fuckin' hell–fine."

ragged breaths blow out of simon, who's leaking out messy smears of precum with every flick of your wrist.

"fine what?" your question comes just as you tighten your grip around his sack. (makeshift cock ring. nothing like the real thing, but it gets him squirmy and hissing bad enough.)

"i'll behave on friday," simon swears, chest damp with sweat and thick thighs sore from how many times he's clenched his body in anticipation of you finally giving in and letting him come. he must've really pissed you off, 'cause you haven't–given in. "n-no funny business, luv, okay? i'll be good. i'll fuckin grin for ya... wear a proper shirt. whatever the fuck you want, just–ah."

simon halfway chokes when the hand stroking him stops and yanks away. his hips try to follow you, cock angry and bobbing with dangerous twitches at how you're still tugging at his sack.

"seriously?"

ignoring his whiny grunt, you look simon dead in the eyes.

good. sulk. whine. what-the-fuck-ever. feeling bad and coming untouched is the least of what he deserves.

"and you'll make sure flowers are sent to those poor people who interviewed you today?"

ah. right.

"yes. with the–the fuckin' notes, too."

you let a five-second glare linger on the sweaty man and his scarred-up lip before sighing.

"good. now hurry up 'n blow your load so i can go back to my room," you order simon, whose eyes roll harder than they mean to when your hand returns to his cock to stroke him with tight but measured jerks.

it only takes moments for him to become a complete mess. coming with rough, choking noises and arches in his back, chest wide and puffing in patterns similar to each rope of cum that spurts to coat the skin of your hand.

your name slurs out of his lips like an anguished prayer until he can think straight again. even then, he's all soft and mumbly. begging you to stay.

"jus' sleep here. bed's big enough."

"no, si. you pissed me off today. you piss me off every day."

si. not simon. maybe there's a chance?

propping himself up on an elbow, simon tugs you until you're collapsing into his lap. he watches you fir a tick, then he reaches for your hand and starts to lick it clean with long, lazy laps. voice low and just for you.

"i'll make it up to ya. really," he tries, the licks melting into drooling kisses that somehow trail their way to your neck. tilting your head for you, simon laps at your skin harder than before. adding a few sucks in spots that he knows make you shake.

damn this man, you think as your eyes flutter closed and you let him pull you even closer.

"lemme show y'how sorry i am... 'll take all night 'f i have to," simon rumbles, moving the snogs to your shoulder so you don't notice him slowly flipping the two of you until his body has trapped yours to his bed.

a smile, small but real, stretches against your collarbone when simon hears you exhale a long stream of air.

"...only if you handle price after that interview is posted."

"deal."

“Arch it just like that…”

The sound of wet skin slapping against each other bounces off the bedroom walls. The comforter felt soft underneath Y/N’s grip, a perfect contrast to the rough one Jalen on had on her hips. The calloused pads of his fingertips swiped at the swell of her hips as he pistoned in and out of her….in and out…in and out…

“Fucckkk,” Jalen groaned, “A nigga missed you, you missed me huh?”’

Y/N felt her pussy flutter at the hoarseness in his voice. At had an edge to it, like he needed to hear her somehow, some way.

A smart slap on her ass interrupted Y/N’s drift in thought. She turned her head to look at Jalen, completely zeroed in on his torso. His skin glistened with sweat as his sculpted chest held a slight red hue. A gold chain glittery, shined brightly under the soft, candle light. The J initial swayed back and forth in tandem the rhythm of his strokes. Her eyes combed upwards. Y/N shuddered at the sight, his plump bottom lip was tucked tightly between his teeth. Yet, his eyes were round and saucer like. He gaze was so soft and held a such anticipation that he practically, begged for the words to come tumbling off her tongue. He needed to hear you say it, you missed him, you missed the he touched you, you missed the way he fucked you…

A small whimper escaped Y/N’s mouth as tears prickled in her eyes. The whole sight was so overwhelming but she loved every single minute of it.

“Babyyyy,” Y/N whined. She felt the familiar thrumming sensation as her orgasm quickly approached. Her walls contracted and squeezed around Jalen’s dick. “I missed you so much, baby, fuck! You fuckin’ me so good.”

Rewarding Y/N for her confession, Jalen fucked her harder, and deeper, while he rasped endless praises into her ear.

Fuck, you know I love you right.

You doin’ so good for me, takin’ me.

Pussy so tight, you squeezing me, Mama.

With his throwing hand, Jalen licked this thumb before he reached around Y/N’s stomach, towards her pussy. He rubbed lazy circles on her clit. Y/N felt something inside her snap, her orgasm hurdled towards the surface. Jalen continued to fuck her as she writhed and convulsed around him.

“Jalennnnnnnn,” Y/N moaned. She attempted to claw her up the bed towards the head board, only for Jalen’s quick reflexes to kick in as he snatched her back against him.

“Don’t run baby, you was doin’ so good,” Jalen rasped. He placed a sweet kiss on Y/N’s shoulder, that sent chills down her spine. “I’m almost there, mama. Fuck, just keep squeezing me like that.”

His normal composure was long gone as he pounded against Y/N’s g-spot. He relentlessly drove into her, completely lost in her warmth and wetness. A loud moan of his name, pushed him over the edge. Jalen’s hips snapped as he unloaded inside of the condom. His body convulsed as a slew of curses left his lips. Y/N’s moaned as she lazily grounded her hips against Jalen, secretly wishing there was no barrier between them. That she could feel all of him, his cum filling her up, warming up her insides. One day…

Despite Y/N’s whiny protests he slowly pulled out of her. Jalen sat on the side of the bed, he easily pulled the condom off, tied it in a knot, and threw it in the trash can. Y/N shivered from the after shocks of her orgasm as she turned and brought the comforter over her body. Jalen rejoined Y/N, he slid himself underneath the comforter, lying gently onto her stomach. Wrapping his arms around her, he held her close to him. With soft fingers, Y/N drew loopy circles against Jalen’s curls. He hummed, the vibrations sent shivers through her body.

“You missed me that much, huh?” Y/N teased.

Eyes closed, a sly grin grew across his lips. His eyes fluttered open, soft and thick eyelashes batted against the tops of his cheeks.

He grinned, completely unbothered. “I said it respectfully.”

“You did not.”

“I thought it was really respectful, though.”

You blinked once, patience wearing thin. “Tyriq. Do you need something?”

He pushed off the doorway and walked toward your desk, that confident stroll that told the whole floor he’d never been told no in his life. With his fingers purposefully brushing against yours, he placed a stack of drafts on your desk—far too close, always too close.

Tyriq wore a cologne that had warm notes of sandalwood and subtle citrus—fresh, masculine, and impossible not to notice.

“Edited the feature you assigned,” he said, voice softer now, meant only for you. “Thought you might wanna look it over…when you done lookin’ so gorgeous.”

Your jaw tightened the slightest bit, but he caught it. Of course he did. He watched you like it was a paid sport.

“Tyriq,” you exhaled sharply, “stop it with the flirting.”

He tilted his head, fern eyes roaming your captivating face like he was memorizing it. “I’ll stop when you finally admit you like it.”

As usual, you didn’t take the bait. You never did. Your way of dealing with Tyriq’s boldness was by remaining silent and professional. Still, despite your best efforts to be distant, the spark between the two of you was palpable and lingered like static electricity in the air.

The tall man took a step back, hands sliding into his pockets, dimples deepening. “Meeting in ten, right? I’ll save you a seat.”

And with that, he swaggered out of your office, knowing damn well your eyes followed his retreating back even though you refused to turn your head.

You couldn’t go there for several reasons. Tyriq Withers was twenty-four, brilliant, arrogant, infuriatingly fine and absolutely, unequivocally not your business. You recently turned twenty-nine, plus you were his boss. Even though the magazine didn't have a non-fraternization policy, you just knew it wouldn't end well. You had to remind yourself of that every day, and by late afternoon, it got harder.

The conference room was already half full by the time you walked in. Graphic designers were discussing print layouts, marketing interns were scrambling with their overpriced tablets, and the Editor-in-Chief flipped through laminated slides as the fluorescent lights hummed overhead.

You spotted Tyriq immediately. He had claimed a spot near the middle of the long table, arm draped over the back of the empty chair beside him. Silently daring anyone that wasn’t you to take a seat in your chair.

He didn’t acknowledge you at first, at least not verbally; however, the sly smile creeping across his face revealed everything you knew he was thinking.

You cleared your throat and walked toward the opposite side of the table. Tyriq shook his head immediately, firm but subtle enough for only you to notice.

He pulled the empty chair out like a dare. “Seat’s warm for you."

Your heels clicked against the floor as your pulse spiked, and you were relieved that he couldn’t notice your racing heart as you approached, since you didn’t have time to be distracted by his nonsense.

You sat down next to him because it was efficient and logical, not because the proximity did something to you. No one needed to know that sitting next to him felt like being enveloped in a warm hug. You weren’t ready to admit the truth about the way he made you feel.

Especially to him. No way in hell.

You crossed your legs, organized your notes and continued looking straight ahead.

Tyriq chuckled softly to himself as he discreetly scooted his chair closer to you.

You didn’t look at him, but you could feel him. The warmth of his body radiating through that form-fitting sweater, his cologne drifting over with his exhale. Every time he shifted, your elbows almost brushed.

Almost, and you hated how much you craved the touch.

“Good morning, everyone,” Kyle, the Editor-in-Chief began. “I don’t plan on keeping you away from your work for too long, so let’s jump right on in.”

You nodded professionally, eyes focusing on the screen. 

Tyriq leaned closer, his voice a whisper against your ear. “You know you can just say you like sittin’ next to me.”

Your breath hitched the tiniest bit—the stupidest betrayal. “That is not—”

“Mmhmm,” he hummed, eyes on the presentation, feigning innocence. “Next time you can take a seat right on my lap, boss.”

It took everything in your power not to respond, but your thighs did clench involuntarily. 

During the slideshow, every time you reached for your pen or adjusted your notes, his hand was nearby. Every time he took notes, he glanced at your reactions. When Rachel, an enthusiastic advertising intern, cracked a joke across the room, you let out a soft giggle, and he looked at you like it was the highlight of his morning.

For the most part, you kept your expression neutral, but when Tyriq casually stretched his arm behind your chair—not touching you, but close—you felt your shoulders relax in a way that annoyed the hell out of you because you had to acknowledge the irritating truth. You did enjoy the young man’s presence. You did feel calmer with him near, and you did enjoy the attention way more than you had any right to. You just weren’t going to let him know that….at least not yet.

At the end of the meeting, as people pushed out their chairs and started gathering their things, Tyriq leaned in one last time, lips close enough to brush your cheek if he turned just an inch. You barely registered the marketing executive mention tomorrow’s Christmas party.

“Same seat next time?” he questioned.

You stood abruptly, smoothing your top. “I sit wherever the agenda requires.”

“Yeah,” he tittered, unable to hide the satisfied smirk. “I’m tryna be the agenda.”

As soon as he finished that suggestive sentence, you bolted out of the room, fighting off a smile.

The office settled down after lunch. The office was filled with that all-too-familiar soft lull, where half the staff stifled yawns while the other half speed-typed as if their salaries depended on it.

You sat at your desk, engrossed in the revision of a feature article, trying to ignore the warm echo of sitting next to Tyriq in this morning’s meeting. You were focused and determined, back in your zone. Completely locked in…until you weren’t.

In your peripheral vision, Tyriq stepped out of his cubicle. Every bit of tall and handsome, tan skin glowing under the afternoon sunlight pouring through the floor-to-ceiling windows. His sweater had been swapped for a fitted white dress shirt, sleeves rolled up to his forearms. The veins were more distracting than the gleaming Breitling on his left wrist. He ran a hand over his low top fade casually, obviously in deep thought about something.

You told yourself you were just taking a quick break from the glowing screens. Just a harmless five-second glance to reset your brain. Except it wasn’t a glance; it was a stare. Damn near a full-blown gawk.

You watched the way his shirt pulled across his back, the way his jaw flexed when he laughed at something an advertising intern said, and the way his lips parted slightly as he typed something out on his phone.

Your stomach fluttered and your thighs pressed together, resolve crumbling slightly. It seemed as though your mind over matter mantra wasn’t cutting it today. You did not want to want him like this, but you were growing tired of fighting it.

Of course, that’s when he turned around slowly, like he sensed your gaze and had been waiting to catch you slipping.

His eyes met yours from across the floor, and you froze like a deer caught in headlights.

Tyriq’s brows lifted just enough to say oh word? Then the corner of his mouth curled into a subtle, devastating smirk.

Like he had just found out he was the winner of the mega millions lottery, he strolled to you with his hands tucked into the pockets of his pants and dimples so deep they could compete with the depths of the Pacific.

He sauntered toward you like a man who already knew he owned the moment. You snapped your attention back to the monitors, typing nonsense in OneNote just to look busy, pretending not to notice his presence as he leaned against the doorway.

“Enjoyin’ the view, Y/N?” he asked softly.

You didn’t look up. “What view?”

“Oh, the one you were just studying like it was part of next week’s issue.”

“I was not—”

“Mmhmm,” he teased, stepping closer. “You looked real focused, though.”

You swallowed hard. “Tyriq, if you don’t have important work-related business—”

“Oh, this is extremely important.”

Despite your better judgment, you glanced up into his eyes. They were even warmer than his prescience. Too all-knowing. His green eyes locked onto your brown ones like you were the sun and he was orbiting willingly. Second- and third-degree burns be damned.

“What do you want? ” you probed, barely keeping your voice steady.

“I want you.” He admitted. That playful glint in his eyes was long gone, and his tone was the most serious it’s ever been.

“Please be serious, Mr. Withers.”

You knew he was telling the truth, but you were too anxious to speak your mind. He sensed it, too, and shrugged lightly, placing a hand on the edge of your desk to pull his torso closer.

“Just wanted you to know,” he murmured, voice dropping lower, “if you gonna stare at me like that, you might wanna be slicker.”

Your face warmed, and you were grateful to every god known and unknown to man that your complexion didn’t allow others to see you blush.

“Tyriq,” you grumbled in warning.

“Yes, ma’am?”

“Get back to work.”

He grinned, tongue pressing against his cheek. “You sure I can’t just finish the last two hours of my shift right here?”

You bit down on your tongue as hard as you could without drawing blood.

“Alright, alright, I’m going. For now…,” he echoed, the tease dripping off the words, but before he walked away, he leaned close enough that you caught another whiff of his cologne, enough to make your breath still.

“And by the way,” he prattled, “I know you want me as much as I want you.”

After that, he just walked away, leaving you to blink at your computer screen as your heart performed inverted cartwheels.

The hotel's ballroom was filled with golden lights and soft jazz music, making it one of those fancy Christmas parties that you always see in magazines put on by someone who is way too rich and completely clueless. The staff mingled in sequins and tailored suits, champagne flutes catching the sparkle of oversized ornaments.

From the moment that you stepped foot inside, you could feel every head swivel in order to gawk at you.

For once, you weren’t in your typical pants or skirt suit. You wore a deep emerald dress that hugged your slim frame like it was hand-stitched onto your body. Your dark skin glowed rich and warm against the color, your long kinky hair styled down in a soft, stretched twist-out that framed your face like a painting. You never dressed for attention, but it seemed to find you regardless.

Tyriq froze mid-sentence when you walked in. He was in a black turtleneck and tailored slacks, with a fresh fade and heavy cologne. His eyes traveled your body, greedily, like he’d been starving for months and someone finally unlocked the feast.

You tried to ignore his gaze no matter how heavy it felt. You found the chief editor across the hall and accepted the drink he handed you. It was a white cranberry cosmo. It was strong and tasty. Just what you needed to make it through tonight. 

A group of department heads joined you, and you laughed politely at their corny-ass jokes. You were hellbent on aiming your attention everywhere but where you felt it dragging.

The pull from across the room where the junior editor stood was deafening. Louder than Wham’s Last Christmas blaring through the speakers, that’s for sure.

Tyriq didn’t look away once since you walked in. Every time you glanced up, no matter where he stood, he was staring at you. Jaw tight, hands in pockets like if he touched something he’d break it because tonight he probably would. He refused to pretend that he didn’t want you, and he was tired of you pretending that you didn’t feel the same way.

Forty-five minutes into the party, you were brainstorming print schedules with a colleague when you felt that warm pressure of someone walking up behind you. They were too close and too warm, and you didn’t even have to turn around because you knew that presence all too well.

Still, you turned around anyway and looked up at Tyriq. His eyes already locked in on your face, looking dangerous in that enticingly arrogant way only young men with too much confidence could manage.

“You look…” He exhaled sharply, bright eyes raking you up and down. “Goddamn.”

“Tyriq,” you inhaled softly, fighting the blush.

“That all you got for me?” he asked, stepping closer. “You show up lookin’ like this, and all you can say is my name?”

“Will you keep your voice down?” you whispered even though the colleague you were chatting with had been pulled away by an advertising executive seconds ago.

“I would,” he sighed, leaning in, lips brushing your ear, “If my manager didn’t show up looking exactly like my Christmas wish list.”

You tried to hide your grin by clearing your throat. “Tyriq—”

“Why didn’t you tell me you were wearing this?” He questioned, his gaze fixed on your painted mouth. “I would’ve prepared.”

“Prepare for what, exactly? It’s a dress.”

He let out a disbelieving chuckle. “You know how long you’ve had me losing my mind? And then you walk in like that?”

You shook your head. “Stop.”

His expression shifted, frustration tightening his jaw enough for you to feel the temperature change.

“For real?” he asked softly. “You still gonna pretend you not feelin’ me?”

Your pulse throbbed under your flushed skin, not from fear, but from the truth you refused to admit.

You stepped back, desperately creating distance. “You can’t speak to me that way, Mr. Withers.”

Tyriq blinked once as something inside him finally snapped.

“Alright, Y/N,” he exhaled sharply. “I’m done pretending.”

Before the rebuttal could slip past your glossy lips, he grabbed your hand. Not rough but firm, silently letting you know he wasn’t done being dismissed.

“Tyriq, what are you—”

“We leaving,” he said, jaw set. “We talking and this time, you gonna listen.”

You tried to pull your hand back out of prideful instinct, but his grip tightened gently, not enough to hurt, just enough to tell you he wasn’t letting you run away from him this time.

“Tyriq—” you hissed, eyes wide as you scanned the room for judgmental stares, but almost everyone was drunk or two-stepping on the dance floor. Nobody was paying attention to the two of you, but that barely eased your nerves.

“We leaving,” he repeated, voice low and steady. “We not doing this dance in front of the whole company.”

“Tyriq, I am not—”

He paused and looked you dead in the eyes. “Ain’t no way,” he whispered, stepping closer. “I’m letting you walk around sabotaging what we can have because of this whole ‘I don’t date younger men’ act when I’ve been killin’ myself wanting you.”

You froze, breath trapped somewhere between your second and third rib. For once he wasn’t flirting or joking. That arrogance that always seemed to reveal itself was nowhere to be found. The younger man was done playing games.

“Let’s go,” he said, voice softer now, almost pleading.

The smoke machine blurred behind him, and the music faded into static. You should have said no. You should have told him to stop, and you should have walked back into the party, but you didn’t. You couldn’t move at all. You just stood there processing his words. The little resolve you had was pretty much nonexistent at this point.

Your heels clicked beside his as he led you through the ballroom doors into the quiet hallway, decorated with garlands and soft golden lights.

Your heart rate spiked when your eyes fell on your hand in his. Your anxiousness returned for a moment. “Tyriq, this is inappropriate—”

“What, us talking?” he shot back. “Or you still acting like you don’t have feelings for me?”

You swallowed hard, unable to come up with a clever remark. Tyriq was surprised by how much louder your silence was than your protests. He pressed the elevator button, jaw flexing as he tried to keep it together.

You let go of his hand, immediately missing the warmth, and folded your arms, trying to look unaffected, but you were breathing too fast, chest rising and falling in shaky, shallow pulls.

The elevator dinged and held the door open.

“Y/N…come on,” he beckoned softly. “Just get in.”

Your feet stayed rooted to the floor for two seconds too long, then a shaky, defeated breath slipped out of you, and you stepped onto the elevator. Tyriq followed, and the doors slid closed. The hum of the elevator descending filled the small space. The silence was as thick as maple syrup. You stared at the glowing floor numbers, and he stared at you. The tension was building as words went unspoken.

“You’re mad,” you accused without looking at him.

He let out a dry laugh. “Nah, I’m done.”

You immediately turned your head toward him, confusion painted on your face. "What do you mean, you done?"

“Done letting you act like you don’t feel what’s happening every damn day we work together.” His voice was quiet but sharp. “Done lettin’ you shut me down because your ex hurt you.”

You didn’t mean to flinch, but he noticed your reaction when he mentioned your ex-boyfriend.

“Y/N…I’m not him.” His expression softened, and the firmness of his tone eased the tiniest bit. “I don’t need to lose you to recognize how brilliant you are. I see you shine every single day. I'm tired of only getting to see you at work.“

Before you had a chance to respond, the elevator arrived at the ground floor and the doors slid open with a whisper. He stepped out first, then turned, offering his hand again. You didn’t even bother fighting it this time and placed your hand in his.

You let him lead you to the valet podium, your hand still in his, jaw tightening as you tried to regain control. The valet recognized him instantly and jogged off to retrieve his car.

“Tyriq…” you began as you searched his face, tone hushed. “I don’t think this is a good idea.”

“Maybe it’s time for you to stop thinkin’ and just feel,” he corrected gently. “I got us tonight.”

Seconds later, a sleek, black Acura TLX in pristine condition rolled up, city lights sliding across its polished surface.

He opened the passenger door for you, a smile matching the softness in his eyes. “Y/N…get in the car.”

You raised an eyebrow, silently telling him to watch his tone.

“Please,” he added, chuckling quietly.

After a brief pause you climbed into the vehicle, and Tyriq softly closed the door as he went around to the driver’s side and slid in as well, taking a deep breath that sounded like a mixture of shock and relief.

Once he pulled onto the street, the fluttering in your stomach returned. Your fingers were knotted in your lap, and his grip on the steering wheel was tight, knuckles pale against his skin. You couldn’t tell who was more anxious at the moment.

After a long beat, he stated. “I know you gonna make it seem like the end of the world, but I’m runnin' shit tonight.”

You blinked, completely caught off guard.

“You’re my boss,” he continued, voice steady and low. “I respect that. Hell, I enjoy it way more than I probably should…but outside of work I’m takin' care of you. You can relax. You’ll always be safe with me.”

You took a deep breath through your nose and crossed your legs, thighs clenching tight.

“I know I’m five years younger than you, and I tease you a lot, but I’m serious about this. About you. Us.”

You stared out the window, city lights reflecting across your deep brown skin. You felt every word, and the goosebumps scattered along your skin were enough to know your body agreed. All you could do was let out a breathless “…Okay.”

Tyriq relaxed just enough for his shoulders to drop.

He turned into an underground garage beneath a luxury downtown building. It was sleek and upscale.

Your eyes widened in surprise, instantly impressed. “You…live here?”

He smirked, cutting the engine. “Yeah. I told you I’m more than the arrogant young man you think I am.”

You were speechless. You realized that you had completely underestimated him.

He stepped out of the car, went around to the passenger side, and opened your door. “Come upstairs.”

You nodded nervously and followed him into the private elevator that lifted you straight to his condo. Tyriq unlocked his front door, pushed it open, and stepped aside for you to enter. You hesitated on the threshold for half a second, not due to fear, but because walking into his space felt far too intimate for someone you had spent months pretending you didn’t want.

You stepped across, and the beauty of his place made you gasp in disbelief. It was modern and surprisingly warm. It felt very homey. Nothing like the bachelor chaos you expected from a 24-year-old man.

Soft recessed lighting glowed along the ceiling, bouncing off warm tan walls and polished concrete floors. A massive charcoal-gray sectional sat in the middle of the living room atop a textured rug. His kitchen gleamed with black marble countertops and matte cabinets with brushed-gold hardware. He had healthy plants lined up by the windowsill.

Your brows lifted before you could stop them. “This is…nice as hell.”

“Thank you,” he murmured, locking the door behind you.

You took a few curious steps further inside.

A tall bookcase filled with novels and photography books stood against one wall. A record player sat beside a neat stack of vinyls. Mostly old R&B and neo-soul. A salted caramel candle burned softly on the counter that subtly wrapped around you like a hug.

There was nothing immature or reckless about this place. Everything screamed grown man.

“Didn’t expect this?” he asked from behind you.

“Well…” You crossed your arms, cheeks warming. “It’s not like I had expectations.”

He raised a brow, smirking. “So you never thought about what my place looked like…?”

You rolled her eyes, but your lips twitched. You definitely daydreamed about his place once or twice.

He walked past you toward the kitchen, pulling off his coat and tossing it neatly over a chair. His white turtleneck fit him too well, hugging every line of his frame.

“Wine?” he offered.

“No,” you answered quickly. “I’m here to talk.”

“Cool,” he replied while effortlessly pouring himself a glass of water. “Let’s talk.”

You hated how calm and collected he looked. You were screaming internally even though you felt so comfortable in his space already.

You walked deeper into the condo, looking anywhere but at him. “You really live here all by yourself?”

“Yeah,” he said. “Got this place last year. Saved up. Signed early.”

“That’s…impressive,” you admitted, your voice gentler than intended.

His eyes softened. “Y/N, you always act like I’m a kid.”

“You’re twenty-four.”

“And a grown-ass man,” he countered, stepping closer. “A disciplined one. Focused. I didn’t get this place by fucking around.”

You looked away again, partly because you believed him and partly because it scared you how convincing he was.

Tyriq watched you walk toward the far wall. He watched you take in the giant windows, the city stretching out behind you like a glittering ocean.

“Come here,” he motioned.

“Why?”

“Cause there’s something I want to show you.”

You turned cautiously, curls shifting over your shoulders. “What?”

He nodded toward the wall behind you. The one you walked right past. “Look.”

You frowned and turned. It was a gallery wall full of framed magazine covers that must have been his favorites. Your pulse thumped harder when your eyes landed on the two issues with your name on the mastheads.

You edited more issues than you could count, but these were the ones you poured yourself into the most. Your best work…right there on his wall. In the privacy of his home. Your breath caught as your chest tightened and your hands trembled before you could play it off. You stepped closer slowly, almost afraid to touch the frames.

“Tyriq…” you whispered incredulously. “You have—how—why are mine up here?”

He leaned against the counter, watching you with the softest eyes you’d ever seen on him.

“Because,” he confessed, “You’re the editor who made me fall in love with this job.”

You couldn’t speak or move, completely at a loss for words. Too many thoughts spiraling inside your head, making you overwhelmed.

“Y/N…” He stepped toward you cautiously, tone sincere. “You’re the reason I’m here. I’ve been studying your work since college. You don’t even know how many times I reread these issues.”

Your throat tightened. “No one’s ever—”

“Because no one sees you the way I do.”

You turned toward him then, shaken. “Tyriq…”

The air between you became heavy and charged.

You stood there in front of those framed issues like they were mirrors you never asked to look into. Your breath trembled in your chest, hands fidgeting even though you tried to hide it. You weren’t supposed to be here. You weren’t supposed to see this. You weren’t supposed to KNOW. Because knowing meant you couldn’t lie to him or yourself anymore.

Your voice came out small as you whispered. “Tyriq…this…this is too much.”

He stepped closer, slow and careful, like he was approaching something sacred. “I didn’t put these up to pressure you,” he admitted softly. “I put them up because you inspire me.”

Your chest tightened painfully. “No,” you exhaled sharply, fighting down the panic, backing up half a step, palms out slightly. “No, Tyriq…this isn’t—I didn’t think—”

He frowned, confusion crossing his features. “You didn’t think what?”

“That you actually felt this way,” you snapped. Not because you were angry with him, but angry at yourself, your own unraveling. “I thought you were just…playing. Fuckin’ around. Teasing me.”

“Fuckin’ around?” he echoed, hurt flashing in his eyes for the first time.

You ran a shaky hand through your coils, pacing once, twice. “This is why I didn’t want this,” you whispered harshly. “Why, I never encouraged it. Because I can’t do casual.”

He blinked. “Who said anything about casual?”

You let out a breath that cracked halfway through. “Tyriq, you’re twenty-four,” you enunciated. “A whole five years younger than me. Plus, I’m your senior editor. And I—I’ve been through things you don’t know about. I got my heart broken in ways you haven’t lived long enough to understand yet. I can’t be with another man who only sees me as arm candy.”

His jaw tightened in offense. “That what you think I want?” he shook his head in disbelief. “To hit it and quit it?”

“I don’t know,” you admitted, voice trembling. “Probably because I don’t trust myself to read anyone right anymore and I can’t just—I can’t risk—”

You stopped because you couldn’t find the words, and your vision began to blur a little. You looked away in embarrassment and inhaled sharply, like you could will the panic out of your lungs.

He took a single step toward you. “Y/N,” he muttered, voice low and grounding, “Look at me.”

You didn't move. You couldn’t face him right now.

“Y/N,” he repeated, tone softening. “Please, baby.”

Your eyes lifted slowly, painfully, to meet his. You didn’t see the typical arrogance and playful smirk. All you saw was sincerity and heated devotion. A single look from him was all it took to stop you from spiraling and take a calming breath.

“Just cause I’m young don’t mean I’m some fuckboy,” he asserted, voice barely above a whisper. “I want you.”

You forgot how to blink.

“All of you,” he stressed as he shook his head. "Not tonight. Not for a week. Not until I get bored.” He took another step toward you. “I want you tomorrow. Next month. Next year. I want you when we're grey and complaining about high cholesterol.”

Your bottom lip twitched in amusement. “Tyriq—”

“—And it’s okay if you scared,” he added softly. “I get it.” He moved close enough for you to feel his warmth soak into your skin. “But don’t twist what I feel into something small just because it scares you.”

“It’s not that simple,” you whispered.

“It is,” he countered, stepping close enough that your back almost brushed the wall. “You makin’ it complicated because you’re afraid to let yourself want me back.”

You froze because that was the line. That was the truth you’d been running from the second your brown eyes locked onto his green ones.

Your eyes dropped to his chest, unable to hold his gaze, and you sighed deeply before admitting. “I didn’t think you cared.”

He lifted your chin with two fingers, so tenderly it made your knees weaken. “I’ve cared,” he confirmed, gaze locked right back on yours, “every single day.”

You shook your head, tears prickling your eyes. This all seemed too good to be true. “Tyriq, I don’t know how to do this.”

“Yes, you do,” he said, brushing his thumb across your cheekbone in the softest touch you’d felt in years. “You let me cherish you.”

Your breath trembled, and the anxiety-filled pit in your stomach eased. You lifted your hands slowly and settled your palms against his chest, freshly manicured nails curling into the fabric of his turtleneck.

He leaned in, breath warm against your lips. “Tell me to stop.”

For once, you didn’t hesitate. There was no point in fighting your feelings anymore. Not admitting how much you wanted him was no longer a priority.

“Kiss me.”

He inhaled sharply, eyes darkening, jaw clenching like he was holding back everything at once. He damn near couldn’t believe his ears. He pressed his lips to yours in a long overdue kiss. It wasn’t aggressive or rushed. It was slow and certain. Like a deal being sealed.

The second his mouth captured yours, something in you snapped. For once it wasn’t fear; it was relief. All that tension, all that restraint, all those swallowed feelings you forced down for months… rushed straight to the surface like they were clawing out of you.

You kissed him back with a hunger you forgot you had. Tyriq made a low sound in his throat, something primal and barely restrained, like he’d prayed for this exact moment and didn’t trust it was real. His hands slid to your waist, pulling you closer with a confidence that felt earned, not assumed.

The kiss started softly and tenderly as you were both testing each other, but the passion quickly began to boil over. He backed you up against the wall, brushing your hips, sides, and the curve of your waist like he’d memorized your shape months ago.

“You don’t know,” he groaned against your mouth, “How long I’ve wanted this.”

You didn’t answer; instead, you just pulled him closer, fingers curling into the collar of his sweater, dragging him deeper into the kiss.

He groaned again, louder this time, finally letting himself lose a little control. His tongue slid against yours, making you gasp softly at the stroke of it, and he swallowed the sound like it was the last source of oxygen. Your back bounced against the wall, his body pressing into yours, but he held your face gently. Subtly making it known you were something he respected, adored, and worshipped.

His thumbs swept across your cheeks and your jawline and down the length of each side of your neck with reverence and tenderness. Your hands moved from his collar to his chest, sliding down the rigid lines beneath the fabric.

“You taste…” he panted softly, breath hot against your lips, “…even better than I imagined.”

Your thighs clenched, and you realized your restraint was long gone. It probably evaporated the moment he touched you and you no longer cared.

“I want you,” you whispered, voice trembling but more honest than ever.

Tyriq exhaled shakily, forehead resting against hers. “Say that shit again.”

“I want you.”

His jaw clenched and his eyes darkened with heat. He kissed you again, deeper this time, guiding your chin up, tongue sliding into your mouth like he’d earned the right.

A desperate whimper escaped your lips, and that sound alone unraveled him. His hand slipped down to your thigh, lifting it around his hip. You gasped at the warm bulge pressing against you, nails digging into his shoulder.

“Let me take care of you.”

You nodded. “Yes, please.”

Tyriq lifted his head slightly, eyes blazing with desire and devotion. “I’m gonna take my time with you,” he promised, voice low enough to vibrate through you. “I’m not rushing through this.”

Then, without warning, he lifted you smoothly and confidently, big hands gripping the underside of your thighs as he carried you down the hallway toward his bedroom.

Your arms wrapped around his shoulders instinctively, fingers playing with the hair at his nape as you kissed him again and again until you were breathless. You were no longer confused. You didn’t want to run anymore. You were ready, and Tyriq felt it as you surrendered in his arms.

“Good girl,” he praised against your lips, pushing his bedroom door open with his foot. “That’s all I needed.”

He sat you down on the bed gently, then sank to his knees in front of you like a man who’d waited months to worship you properly. He stayed on his knees in front of you, panting a little hard from how much he was holding back. Your dress had ridden up your thighs, the emerald fabric bunching beautifully around your hips. Your legs trembled just from the way he was looking at you. His normally bright eyes darkened with pure need, lips swollen from kissing you, and hands resting on your knees like he was praying at an altar.

“Lay back,” he commanded, voice low and gruff.

You leaned back on your elbows, curls falling around your face, chest rising in soft, shaky breaths. He slid his hands up your thighs, tan palms slowly caressing your deep brown skin like he was touching something he’d never thought he’d be allowed to have.

“God, you’re beautiful,” he admired, thumbs brushing your inner thighs. “Been dreamin’ about touchin' you like this.”

You gasped softly when he pushed your legs farther apart. He paused, looking up at you like he was memorizing every expression.

“You good?” he asked gently.

You nodded, breathless already.

“Say it.”

“I’m good, baby.”

That was all he needed to hear. He hooked his fingers in the sides of your panties, eyes never leaving yours. “Lift up for me.”

You raised your hips, and he pulled them down slowly and slipped them off your legs, dropping them beside the bed. His gaze dropped to your glistening pussy. His mouth watered at the realization he was finally going to taste what he had been dreaming about for months. He cursed lowly, breath hitching.

“Damn, boss,” he teased, mouth watering. “All that for me?”

Your thighs squeezed together instinctively, embarrassment rushing to your face.

“I’ve wanted to see this pretty pussy for so long.” Tyriq shook his head as he pushed your knees apart again. “Don’t hide from me.”

He leaned forward and placed the softest, slowest kiss on the inside of your thigh, just above the knee. A feather-light brush that made you inhale sharply. He placed another kiss, higher this time and you moaned in anticipation.

“Relax for me,” he instructed right before he licked up your slit, tongue warm and pressure soft, savoring every taste like he’d been starving for you. Your hips jerked, and he held you steady with gentle hands.

“Easy,” he cooed against you. “I got you, baby.”

He circled your clit with his tongue, each motion slow and calculated.

You gasped, head falling back against the pillows, “Yes…that—”

He smiled against you and closed his mouth around your clit, sucking gently. Your whole body tensed. You hadn’t been touched in so long you were going to come embarrassingly fast, and he felt it.

“That’s it,” he hummed, voice vibrating against you. “Let it happen, baby.”

Your orgasm built too fast; your thighs trembled as you panted harshly. “Tyriq, slow do—ohfuckohfuck—I’m—”

“Come for me,” he growled into you. “Let go.”

You broke with a sharp cry, thighs clamping around his head. He held you there, licking you through every wave, softening his tongue only when you started to shake too hard.

He wasn’t done though. Nowhere near being satisfied. He pulled back just enough to kiss your inner thigh again, wiping his mouth lightly with the back of his hand.

“One,” he blurted.

You blinked at him, dazed. “One?"

His smug grin returned. “I said I was taking my time.”

He lowered himself again, this time tugging your clit gently, tongue pressing in insistent strokes. Your eyes rolled back as your hands grabbed at the sheets, the pillows, and then his head. “T-Tyriq—”

“That’s it,” his encouragements came out muffled. “Hold onto me.”

He slid two fingers into you carefully, curling them upward at the perfect angle. You came again, the second orgasm more intense than the first. Your thighs shook violently as blissful tears spilled from the corners of your eyes. He wanted to kiss them, but his lips were preoccupied.

“Two,” he counted as he eased up, kissing your knee.

You tried to close your legs, overwhelmed, but he gently pushed them apart again.

“Baby,” he whispered, looking up at you with insatiable eyes, “I’m not done.”

“Tyriq…please—I can’t—”

“Yes, you can,” he murmured, lips brushing your swollen clit. “You’re doing so good for me…”

He sucked your clit harder this time, fingers curling deeper, and the pleasure was so sharp you choked on a sob, hands flying to your mouth to stifle the sound.

"Uh-uh," he scolded, his long arm reaching up to grab the wrist of one of your hands and pulling it away from your mouth. "I wanna hear every noise that comes outta that pretty mouth."

Your third climax ripped through you. The pleasure, unstoppable and overwhelming, tearing through you like an electric shock, jolted you into a series of spasms and left you breathless, tears rolling down your cheeks, whimpering his name. Tyriq held your thighs open, kissing you through every tremor and tear.

When your body finally slumped against the bed in total surrender, he rose and immediately wiped your tears with his thumbs. He kissed your cheek, your jaw and finally your lips. Each smooch soft and reverent.

“You were so good for me,” he praised. “So fuckin’ pretty when you come on my face.”

You knew he meant every word.

Your dress was pushed up around your waist, curls scattered around your face, and eyes heavy with pleasure and trust.

Tyriq hovered above you, brushing his knuckles along your cheek. “You okay?”

You nodded weakly, a soft, overwhelmed hum escaping your throat.

He kissed your lips again like he wanted to bring you back into your body. When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, eyes closed, hands framing your waist.

“Y/N…” he took a deep breath. “I want you so bad it hurts.”

Your breath hitched as you felt the bulge in his slacks press against the inside of your thigh. He was hard, thick, and throbbing. He could’ve taken you already. Anyone else would’ve, but he didn’t push. He waited.

He gripped the bottom of his turtleneck, but your fingers curled into the fabric, breath trembling as your nerves returned.

“Tyriq…wait.”

“Hey.” His eyes widened in concern, stilling instantly as his green irises searched your face. “Talk to me. What is it?”

You swallowed, cheeks hot, lashes wet. “I need to tell you something.”

He cupped your cheek, thumb brushing lightly beneath your eye. “Anything.”

Your chest rose and fell in a shaky rhythm. You looked up at him and whispered. “I’ve never…done this before.”

He went rigid with disbelief. “You mean…” he exhaled sharply, like the admission knocked the wind from him.

You looked away, embarrassed. “I know it’s stupid. I know I’m too old to be—”

“Stop,” he muttered immediately, gently guiding your chin back to face him. “Don’t say that about yourself. Not to me.”

Your bottom lip trembled. “I just…I didn’t want you thinking I was inexperienced or… too much work—”

“Baby,” he sighed, shaking his head, forehead pressing into yours, “You being a virgin doesn’t change how I feel about you, and it definitely doesn’t make you a burden.”

His voice dropped lower, deeper, and softer. “It is drivin' me crazy though, I’m not gon' lie. I hope you know you never gettin' rid of me….”

Heat rushed through you, and you fought back a smirk. “I guess I didn’t tell you because…I thought you’d see me differently….my ex was weird about it.”

He kissed you again. “I do see you differently,” he grinned against your lips. “But in the best fuckin’ way.”

He exhaled sharply. “Fuck…I’m honored you’d even let me be the one.” Then he pulled back, green eyes dark but tender, expression softening.

“I’m going to take care of you,” he vowed. “Tonight is all about you.”

His hand slid down to your thigh. “You ready?”

You lifted your hands to his cheeks, guiding his face back to yours.

“I’m ready,” you whispered against his soft lips. “I want you inside me.”

His eyes darkened as he barely suppressed a groan. “You sure?”

“Yes,” you promised. “I want you to be my first.”

“Then I’m going to make it perfect,” he promised. “Gonna give you all I got.”

For the first time all night, you weren’t scared. You felt safe. Safe enough to let go completely and safe enough to let him in.

Tyriq hovered over you for a moment, just taking in your beauty. The way your curls spread across his pillows, your kiss-swollen lips, and the way your skin glowed under the soft gold of his bedroom lamp. He exhaled shakily, brushing a curl from your cheek.

“You still ready?”

You swallowed, nodding. “A little nervous, but yes.”

He smiled warmly at you. “I am too.”

“So you’re not—oh, I don’t know—overly confident about taking me down?”

“Oh, I’m confident,” he teased softly, kissing the corner of your mouth, “but I’m not tryna pretend I might not bust nine strokes in.”

You giggled, cheeks warming as the tension in your shoulders eased.

He kissed you again, coaxing and patient, before murmuring, “Let me undress you…slow, okay?”

You nodded, and he sat up, hands moving to your dress, fingers sliding beneath the fabric at your hips. He paused, giving you a look. “Tell me if you change your mind.”

“Okay,” you agreed.

He pulled the zipper down your back, the dress loosening around your body like it was sighing. He helped you sit up so he could slide it down your arms, kissing each shoulder as it fell. When the dress pooled at your waist, he pulled back to really look at you.

“Goddamn,” he whistled. “You deserve to be worshipped.”

You laughed softly, flustered. “Stop…”

“I can’t,” he chuckled, brushing your thigh. “You’re too beautiful.”

He eased the dress completely off you, leaving you in your bra, with six-inch heels still strapped to your feet.

He grinned when he noticed. “You leaving these on?” he asked playfully.

“I didn’t really think about—”

“Nah, leave them on,” he said quickly, pupils darkening in mischief.

You covered your face with your hands, giggling again, nervous but comfortable.

He gently moved your hands aside. “Stop hidin' from me.”

You exhaled, calmer now, letting his presence sink into you.

Then he leaned back on his knees and finally began undressing himself. He pulled off his turtleneck first, slowly, revealing light brown skin and a chest that made you inhale sharply.

“Oh,” you bit your bottom lip, shamelessly gawking at his impressive physique.

He smirked. “Oh?”

“You know what you doing…”

“Maybe,” he teased, unbuckling his belt and pulling his pants and briefs down, kicking them to the side. “But your face makes it worth it.”

His dick was long and girthy, tip glistening with precome. No wonder he had a little arrogance to him.

Holy shit, he was going to split you open.

“Tyriq—”

“You like what you see?” he asked cockily, leaning forward again, lips brushing yours.

“Shut up.”

He laughed against your mouth, capturing your lips in a deep kiss as his hands gripped your waist.

“You ready to lie back?”

You nodded and reclined onto his pillows again, curls haloing around your head. He followed you down, bracing himself on his forearms, bodies aligned, warmth radiating between the two of you.

His playfulness subsided and his eyes softened when you looked up at him. “We go slow. You tell me if anything feels wrong.”

“I trust you.”

He kissed you again, lips lingering as he tasted you slowly. Your hands slid up his back, fingers tracing the lines of muscle. “Wrap your legs around me.”

You obeyed, and the warmth of your thighs around his hips made him release an unsteady groan against your neck. He reached between you, guiding his length to your dripping entrance with careful precision.

“Keep your eyes on me,” he whispered, nose brushing against yours. “I want to see that pretty face.”

You let out a shaky breath, heart racing as he eased forward just enough for you to feel him, the thick heat of his fat tip pressing against your slick slit.

“You okay?” he asked because you stopped breathing. You didn’t even notice how long you were holding your breath.

You nodded, but he wasn’t satisfied with that. “Use your words, baby.”

“I’m okay,” you assured. “Keep going.”

He exhaled, relieved. “Whatever you want.”

He kissed you again, keeping your mouth occupied as he slowly pushed deeper—half an inch…another…stopping every time your breath caught or your nails dug into his shoulders. At the slight sting, you hissed softly.

He froze instantly. “Talk to me.”

“It’s okay,” you whispered quickly. “Just…new.”

He pressed his forehead to yours, eyes soft but intense. “Breathe with me, baby,” he instructed. “In…and out…that’s it…”

You followed his pace, your chest rising and falling with his. When you relaxed beneath him, he pushed deeper, muttering praises until he finally sank all the way inside you. Your lips parted in a breathless moan, grip tightening on his shoulders as your eyes fluttered shut. “Oh…fuuuckkk…”

He groaned into your neck, voice ragged. “You squeezin’ the fuck outta me…so warm…so wet,” he breathed. “Better than all the scenarios I imagined.”

You whimpered at the praise, and he lifted your chin with gentle fingers, forcing you to face him. “Look at me.”

Your eyes opened slowly, vulnerability shining through.

“Relax,” he coaxed. “I got you. You don’t have to hide from me.”

He pulled out an inch and slid back in. “How’s that feel?”

“Good…” you whispered, voice cracking. “Really fuckin’ good.”

His expression shifted, desire mixing with awe. “That’s what I want. No pain. Just you letting me make you feel good.”

He found a slow rhythm, deep but gentle, steady and tender, his hips rolling into yours with patience instead of hunger. His hands cradled your face, brushing her cheeks, tracing her jawline like he needed to memorize all of your expressions.

Every time you gasped, he kissed you. Every time your breath trembled, he slowed down. Every time a whimper escaped your throat, he flooded you with praises.

“Mmm,” he grunted softly. “You feel so good, baby.”

Your body softened under him, tension melting away as pleasure warmed every inch of your skin. You lifted your hips slightly, trying to take more of him without thinking.

He groaned deeply in surprise. “There you go,” he rocked into you a little deeper, and you moaned into his mouth, your legs tightening around his waist in instinctive want. “Give me that pussy.”

Your bodies moved together, a one-of-a-kind rhythm only the two of you could create.

“Goddamn,” he moaned, shifting the angle of his hips slightly before setting a faster pace. “You takin’ this dick so good, baby.”

“You feel so—fuckfuckfuck—Tyriq pleaseee!”

“Please what?”

“I—“

“What you want from me, hmm?”

You couldn’t even respond. The choked-off sobs and the squelching sounds of your pussy getting wetter and wetter were answer enough. He was fucking you so good, too good. You felt dizzy, and you had the overwhelming urge to giggle like a madwoman. You didn’t expect your first time to be this pleasurable, this fulfilling.

His hand slid up your body, squeezing your breast while the other bounced freely. The heightened intensity of the pleasure washed over you until it was all you could feel pulsing through your veins. He was fucking you so good. Your thighs began to quiver, and your moans boomed as another orgasm approached.

“Fuuck,” you gasped sharply. “Tyriq, please don’t stop.”

“I’m not stoppin’, baby. You feel how deep I am?”

“Yessss!” you cried out, squeezing your legs around him and holding onto his shoulders as he fucked you fast and deep. “Ty—shitshitshit—I’m gonna come,” you breathed shakily, toes curling as your eyes snapped shut.

“Mmhmm, I feel it,” he grunted loudly, restraint slipping as he felt your walls contract around him. “Come all over this dick.”

Your orgasm ripped through you, and your mouth fell open in a loud scream. This one was more intense than the first three. Your head was spinning so fast you had to close your eyes for a few seconds.

The moment you came down from that blissful first time high you surprised yourself by laughing softly. A satisfied, full-blown laugh that was warm and loose. You finally felt free in your own skin again.

Tyriq brushed a thumb over your cheek, smirking down at you. “That good, huh?”

You nodded, still breathless, still melted against the sheets. “More than good.”

He raised a brow. “Oh yeah?”

You turned your head to look at him fully, deep brown eyes soft but shining with a newfound confidence.

“So…” you trailed off, a little teasing lilt in your voice, “You good? Because you definitely didn’t finish.”

His breath hitched at your boldness, a low sound that made his eyes darken instantly.

“You worried about me now?” he teased, leaning down to kiss your shoulder.

“A little,” you gasped as he moved inside you, still hard. “Actually a lot.”

He chuckled warmly. “Say what you want, baby.”

You bit your lip softly. “Can we try another position?”

Tyriq blinked and then let out a low, appreciative whistle.

“Ohhh,” he hummed, brushing his nose against yours. “So the shyness is gone now?”

“Completely,” you shrugged, smirking.

He grinned back, a spark of pride lighting his whole face. “Come here then.”

Before you could react, he wrapped an arm around your waist and lifted you effortlessly off the bed, your legs instinctively hooking around him as a surprised giggle burst out of you as his dick slipped out. “Tyriq!”

“What?” he teased, kissing your jaw as he carried you toward the tall window overlooking the city. “You not even heavy, baby.”

“You showin’ off.”

“I am,” he admitted shamelessly. “You don’t seem mad.”

You definitely weren’t. Not in the slightest. You tucked your face into his neck, smiling. “I kinda like it.”

“Oh, you do, huh?” he asked, voice deepening as he stopped in front of the glass.

“Mmhmm.”

He set you down gently so your palms met the cool window. The city glittered beneath you, your reflections caught in the glass, your curves, your heels still on, his hands smoothing up your sides.

He leaned in behind you, breath tickling your ear. “You sure you can handle another position?”

“I know I can.” You nodded, looking at him through the reflection. “I like the way you fuck me.”

His breath stuttered, a soft sound that showed how much he was holding back. “Turn around.”

You turned your back to him slowly, instantly finding his eyes in the reflection as he gripped your hips and bent you over into the position he wanted.

He trailed hot kisses down your back as he stroked himself. “You look so pretty like this,” he praised, voice warm and reverent.

You glanced at his reflection with a tiny smile. “You look kinda good yourself.”

“Kinda?” he tsked, swatting your asscheek playfully.

“You alright.” you taunted, snickering as he pulled your ass closer.

“Yeah?” he quipped as he lined his tip up with your soaked entrance. “Let me see if I can change your mind.”

You held your breath as he plunged in, sweet heat blooming through you again as he sank further. He tightened his hold as he rocked back into you, circling his hips a few times before setting a pace that wasn’t too rough but harder than the previous position. He held your hips firmly but lovingly, moving with you like you’d been doing this forever.

It didn’t take long for you to match his rhythm. You braced your hands against the window, locking your knees back, heels helping you perfect your arch as you met his thrusts, fucking him back.

“Oh shit—that’s what the fuck I’m talkin’ about,” he groaned deeply, smacking your ass cheek, pace growing more relentless with each desperate sound you made. “Use that dick, baby."

His hips snapped over and over again, rigid muscles slamming against your soft cheeks, and his hand gripped your shoulder and yanked you back to meet his sharp thrusts, controlling you in a way that made your eyes roll back. You cried out, warm breath fogging part of the window, thighs shaking as pleasure built up faster and faster inside you.

“You got one more in you, baby?” He asked, panting harshly as he felt his own orgasm approaching. “Be a good girl and come one last time on this dick.”

As if that was all the permission you needed, you came one more time. Harder than ever, gasping against the window as your pussy clenched around him so hard it made him hiss out several curses. “Oh shit, baby—fuckfuckfuck—I’m gonna come. Whe—where you want it?”

“Come inside me, Tyriq. Ple—please don’t stop until I’m full of you!”

“Goddamn,” Tyriq moaned in response, his large hands moving back down to grip at your waist as his hips smacked against your ass cheeks, pounding into you even harder, balls slapping against your sensitive clit as he chased his release. “I’m coming, baby.” 

He let out a loud, guttural moan as he shot hot white ropes of come into you, hissing sharply as you clamped down, milking him of everything he had.

When you both finally came down, bodies warm and pressed together, the city stretching out before you, he wrapped his arms around your waist and possessively hugged you from behind.

“You alright?” he asked, tenderly kissing the side of your neck.

You nodded, smiling as you leaned your head back onto his shoulder.

“Better than alright,” you boasted.

“Yeah,” he agreed, grinning into your skin. “Me too.”

The two of you stayed there for a long moment, pressed against the cool window, his arms wrapped around your waist, your back resting against his chest. The city glittered below you like it was applauding.

Eventually, Tyriq kissed your cheek, lips lingering before turning you gently in his arms.

“Come here,” he grunted softly, lifting you easily again, carrying you back toward the bed like you weighed nothing.

You snickered softly into his shoulder.

“You really like picking me up, don’t you?”

“It’s convenient,” he claimed, smirking as he set you down. “And you cute when you pretend you don’t like it.”

You shot him a look. “I do not—”

He raised a brow.

“…Fine,” you muttered. “Maybe a little.”

He grinned, dimples deep, green eyes soft. He plopped beside you and pulled the duvet over both of you. You relaxed against his chest, curls spilling over his forearms, your breathing slowly returning to normal.

His hand stroked your back lazily, drawing shapes. “You feelin’ okay?”

“Yeah. You?”

“Never better,” he sighed deeply, kissing the top of your head.

The two of you stayed like that, warm skin against warm skin, the afterglow settling around you in waves. You traced circles on his chest with your fingertip, shy but not scared anymore. He played with your coils gently, twirling one around his finger.

After a while, you broke the silence. “Tonight was…a lot.”

He hummed. “Good or bad?”

“Good,” you assured quickly. “Really good. Just…new.”

He lifted your chin gently with two fingers. “New isn’t bad.”

“I know. It’s just—I guess I wasn’t expecting all this. Us. You.”

He leaned in and kissed you, soft and slow this time. When he pulled back, his thumb brushed your bottom lip.

“Y/N,” he said quietly, “I’ve been in love with you since you corrected my first draft and told me I needed to learn humility.”

You burst into a full-blown cackle at the memory. “Oh my God—”

“Nah, for real,” he said, eyes warm and amused. “I was sittin’ there like, damn, she fine AND she right.”

You slapped his chest lightly, still laughing. “Shut up.”

He caught your hand, threading your fingers together.

“No,” he objected. “I’m done shuttin’ up. I’ve been waitin’ months to say this.”

You froze a little, looking up at him.

Tyriq sat up straighter, cupping your face with both hands, thumbs sweeping along your cheekbones. His eyes were certain—no second-guessing, no hesitation. “You’re my woman.”

You blinked. “Tyriq—”

He shook his head slowly, cutting you off with a soft kiss to your forehead.

“No questions. No maybe. None of that ‘we’ll see’ bullshit.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “You. Are. My. Girlfriend.”

Your breath caught only for a moment, but he continued before you could spiral. “And I’m not asking. I’m telling you. Because I’m serious about you. About us, and I’m not letting you ignore what we have anymore.”

You stared at him, chest tight, heart thudding in the best possible way.

“You want me to be your girlfriend,” you asked softly.

He gave you that slow, devastating smile. “Oh, you already are. I just needed to make sure you on the same page as me."

You swallowed, happiness flooding you in a way you hadn’t felt in years.

“…Okay,” you agreed. “Then I’m yours.”

His eyes softened in a way you’d never seen before.

so weak even, you don't even hear the door to the bathroom creak open. footsteps pad against the floor, until you're put on a gurney by a doctor covered in a hazmat suit.

you're wheeled into a room, and immediately put on a bed, but your vision is so blurry, you can't even make anything out. a needle pierces your skin, and suddenly you loose all consciousness.

when you awake, you're in a plush bed. but you don't recognize the sheets at all. groggily, you get up, walk down the nearest staircase. as you do, you see dr. abbot and robinavitch on the couch.

"she's awake robby," dr. abbot observes, voice soft as to not irritate you. dr. robinavitch turns his head, flashing you a soft smile, which causes your thighs to clench.

"come sit kiddo." at his words, your feet softly pad against the carpet. there's only enough space on the couch for you to sit in between them.

"lay down," dr. abbot instructs, placing a stray pillow on his lap. you oblige, lying down with a quickness. he smiles at your obedience, corners of his mouth curling. without asking, dr. robinavitch puts your feet on his lap.

the feeling of his slender fingers on your ankle makes you moan. it's quiet, as if you're hiding.

"poor thing," dr. robinavitch coos. "all pent up isn't she jack?"

"yeah, she is" dr. abbot chuckles in response. for a moment, your head tries to pop up to protest, but he just guides you back down to the pillow. "nothing to be ashamed of sweetheart, you can't help it." the nickname makes you moan again, but no one says anything. as if this is normal.

"we should explain," dr. robinavitch suggests, and abbot nods in approval.

"what do you remember?" at dr. abbot's question, your eyes squint, trying your hardest. but nothing really comes to mind. a tear of frustration escapes you, and his thumb is quick to wipe it off.

for some reason, you drag his thumb into your mouth, suckling on the tip. a sigh escapes both of the men at your action, but dr. abbot's is mixed with a little arousal.

"the antibiotics wore off already?" dr. robinavitch asks, watching as you slobber all over dr. abbot's thumb. he just shrugs as your body turns, face hitting his chiseled chest.

"we still have to explain, even if she's not - fuck - all there," dr. abbot answers, moan bubbling out of his throat as your tongue swirls over the tip of his finger.

dr. robinavitch can't help but smirk as dr. abbot's eyes shut in ecstasy.

"all little finger sucking is all it takes brother?"

"shut up robby." for a moment you stop sucking, eyes meeting dr. abbot, worried you upset him. your lips slowly retract, and you sit up, eyes full of anxiety.

"sweetheart, don't stop, it's okay," dr. abbot soothes, placing a soft kiss on your forehead. as he pulls away, your eyes are hypnotized by dr. abbot's lips. so you kiss him, whimpering as your tongue invades his mouth. his eyes widen in surprise, but he kisses back anyway, before pulling away.

"needed a kiss that bad kiddo?" dr. robinavitch teases. you nod yes, and both he and abbot melt at the sight.

"how about you give robby a kiss too?" at the suggestion, your feet retract off of dr. robinavitch's lap before crawling to him. this time dr. robinavitch kisses you, placing a soft, experimental kiss on your lips. but as he pulls away, your tongue lolls out, begging for more.

all regard for your fragility melts away at that. the next kiss is more bruising, tongues intertwining as he pulls you into his lap. your hands find purchase in his hair as you push your body into the pudge of his belly.

when dr. robinavitch pulls away for air, a whine escapes you. "no stop," you whine, clawing on his shirt.

"robby's not stopping baby, he just needs to breathe - here." dr. abbot, who is suddenly a lot closer to you both, reaches out to kiss you once again. as he does, you can't help but rock onto dr. robinavitch's lap, moaning into dr. abbot's mouth as you fuck yourself on robinavitch's bulge.

both of their hands come to stabilize your back. everything just feels so good - with every movement, dr. robinavitch gets harder and harder, and you finally have something to fuck yourself on. as your hips roll against his tip, his head tilts to the back of couch.

"keep doing that kid, shit," dr. robinavitch moans. dr. abbot finally pulls away, but your lips just travel down to his neck, sucking and biting anything you can reach.

"oh, you're doing so good sweetheart, taking robby so well." he pulls away from you, but before you can even protest, a strong hand pushes you down on dr. robinavitch's lap. you can really feel his cock more like this.

"lean forward, then rock your hips." dr abbot instructs. as your back hunches, you rock even harder, moaning at the new stimulation.

"fuck, she's going to make me cum." dr. robinavitch's words make jack smirk.

"here that sweetheart? you're going to make robby cum-"

"you're such a good girl, using me like this-"

"take his dick pretty girl, i know you can-"

the praise makes your coil break, and dr. robinavitch comes not long after. as he sits up, you're still riding out your high, hips rocking aimlessly.

"more," you whimper out, but both of them stop your hips.

"you were infected with an aphrodisiac baby. that's why you're acting like this. don't worry, robby and i will take care of you until you're all better," dr. abbot reassures.

but you don't care. your mind is so far gone, his words go in one ear and out the other.

"cock. wan' it" you plead, more concerned with soothing the ache in your pussy more than anything.

"i know honey, we're going to give you all the cock you want. just relax." to comfort you, dr. robinavitch rubs circles on your back, but that only furthers your desire.

"dr rob..robina…vitch…now" you stammer, mustering all of your strength to say his name. both men frown at your decreasing cognitive function.

"just jack and robby baby" dr abbot corrects, in an attempt to make things easier for you.

"jack?" you ask, locking eyes with him.

"good girl, and what's my name?" your head turns to follow the voice, gazing into brown eyes.

"robby," you reply, a little more certain. a kiss of approval is soon placed on your lips, and before you know it, robby's standing up. your legs lock around his as you're carried up the stairs. jack's right behind you.

once you three arrive at the bedroom, robby lays you on the bed. for a moment, he and jack just stand right in front of you, probably wondering what to do next. but once your eyes lock with robby's bulge, you can't help but nuzzle your face into it.

"oh honey," robby grunts, watching as your tongue darts out onto his bulge. through the fabric, you suck, moaning as the tip partially fills your mouth.

"fuck her throat, robby," jack says, tugging robby's sweats down. you jerk back in surprise, but once you're greeted with the sight of robby's cock, your eyes glaze over with lust. just like his fingers, his cock is long, happy trail from his stomach running all over his base. as pre beads from the top, your mouth envelopes the tip once again.

"do it, come on robby." at jack's goading, robby slowly presses into your mouth. you gag at the intrusion, and robby's thighs already twitch at the stimulation.

jack comes behind you to grip your hair. with one swift yank, he pulls you off robby's cock. you let out an animalistic pant, drool pooling out of your mouth. with a bruising grip, jack tilts your head up, so you're looking robby directly in the eyes. slowly, jack sinks you back down.

"fuck her." robby listens, hips snapping as he pushes further into your mouth. jack's still keeping you steady, and presses a kiss on your cock-filled cheek.

"let him use you. 's what you want right?" jack whispers in your ear, breath hot. you nod on robby's cock, and at that, robby starts fucking your throat.

the intensity burns, but you love it. in the corner of robby's eye, he can see jack palm himself behind you. for a moment his hips falter, but when jack mouths a "keep going," his hips resume once again.

you just feel so good - mourn so warm and lips hollowed just right. your tongue swirling over the veins of his cock is the last straw.

"'m not going to last jack-"

"it's okay robby, just cum, she needs it." robby cums, pulling out just a bit so his tip can spurt white ropes onto your tongue. you gulp it down as if it was water, sucking on his tip even more to get the rest out.

when robby pulls away, droplets of cum stain your lips. jack is quick to lick your lips clean, moaning at the salty taste.

soon after you yank off your shirt (which is really robby's). as your tits are exposed to the air, your nipples harden.

"now fuck," you say, crawling to lay against the pillows. your legs part, and jack and robby are greeted with the sight of your glistening pussy. with two fingers, you spread your pussy apart, drawing attention to your pulsing hole.

"both here." jack and robby's eyes widen at the implication of your words.

"no sweetheart, both of us can't go in there. you'll tear-"

"no! both here!" you whine, legs thrashing in frustration. your tantrum makes robby's eyes well with sympathy.

"it wouldn't hurt to try jack." at that, jack sits right next to you on the bed, yanking his boxers down to reveal his cock.

"come in between my legs sweetheart." you're there in a heartbeat. jack dips a finger inside, and is surprised when he just slides right in.

"we might actually fit" he exclaims in disbelief.

"told you," robby chuckles. "give it to her jack."

jack manhandles you onto his cock, bullying his girth into your pussy. a stream of wetness escapes you, dampening the bed sheets.

"messy girl," robby teases, propping himself right in front of you and jack. jack holds your legs up with one hand, the other coming to rub at your clit.

"just in case," jack cautions, and robby carefully brings his cock over jack's.

"in!" you demand, and robby delivers, slowly pressing in, brushing against jack's cock in the process.

"fuck, robby," jack moans, hand gripping your legs a little harder at the new stimulation. robby's signature laugh escapes him as he watches jack's face contort in pleasure.

"her pussy feels so good," robby groans, his fat cockhead finally knocking at your cervix. a smile finally graces your face, because at last, you're finally full. your hole is being pushed to the limit, fully stretched to take jack and robby's cocks.

as your hole clenches and sucks them in even further, jack's cock can't help but twitch inside you. the subtle vibration makes you moan. robby rocks his hips into you, and jack soon follows, his sharp thrust causing your tits to bounce.

a guttural moan escapes you at that. robby and jack freeze, wondering if they went too far. but your face tells a different story - eyes already rolled to the back of your head. as your mouth parts, they know you need a kiss again, both of their mouths come to yours, each taking turns dipping their lips in.

it becomes messy quick, soon it's hard to know who's tongue is whose, all melting together in your mouth. robby can't help but rock his hips into you again, hand wrapping around your ankles to sustain himself. as his fingers graze jack's, jack thrusts up into you yet again.

"fuck," you whimper, fingers indenting on jack's thighs. your pussy flutters as they fuck into you in unison, clenching even harder. it's as if you don't want them to let go.

"cock good," you cry. "ngh, harder."

"yeah? want it harder sweetheart?-"

"we'll give you exactly what you want honey-"

suddenly, robby's even closer. you aimlessly grind down on both of their cocks, desperate for even more relief. you're taking your own pleasure, bouncing in jack's lap, desperately chasing your high. the pair meet your bounces with calculated thrusts, dragging their cocks in and out of you.

dumb babbles escape your mouth. you've finally succumbed to the lust - mind slipping. words don't even escape your mouth anymore, just senseless sounds. but they know that you still need more.

your pussy drips and drips, but you still have yet to cum. your body craves it so desperately, to the point you feel death will come if the coil in your belly doesn't break.

they can't even speak anymore, too enthralled by your pussy. your walls are so warm, robby even forgets to breathe. the tips of their cocks grind together inside of you, but they can't cum until you do, just wouldn't be fair.

one gentle push sends you over the edge, legs falling out of jack's hold as you cum. but still it isn't enough, if anything it makes you want more. before anyone can pull out, you lock your legs around robby's hips.

it would take more than one orgasm to make you feel better.

the aphrodisiac finally lessens after twenty four hours. both jack and robby's balls are drained, a lifetime of cum has been emptied into your walls. on soiled sheets, you, jack and robby finally go to bed, your body stuck in between theirs.

when you finally awake, you're back to normal. at the sight of jack's naked body in front of you, you scream. both of your attendings get up with a groan, arms still wrapped around your body.

"oh my god why are we-"

jack cuts you off with a kiss. your lips melt into his without thinking. for a moment you try to pull away, robby just holds you, pressing soft kisses on your spine.

"a patient came in," jack explains, pulling away. "pockets were full of sexy anthrax. you were unlucky and got exposed to it."

sexy anthrax was no joke, it was a new street drug. designed to inhibit lust, the powder would instantly make you feel sexual attraction with the first person you needed to interact with. to make matters worse, in seconds, your biology would be rewired so that your lust would only be satiated by that person.

"so why are you both-"

"the patient had a new strain on them. lab upstairs couldn't even figure out what was added to it. all we know is that it can cause someone to be attracted to multiple people," robby interjected.

"holy shit," you exclaimed. "so we?-"

"yep, but it's not over yet. the aphrodisiac lasts for a week. the first twenty-four hours are the worst," jack answers.

"just let us take care of you" robby adds. "is there anything you want right now?"

"i want my pussy ate," you say, without even thinking. jack peels himself off of you, right before dipping under the covers.

you freeze, clutching your clutch like a lifeline. part of you wants to look away, pretend you didn’t see him, but he’s already moving—through the crowd, past reporters, straight toward you.

he says your name, voice low, almost like he’s afraid to say your name too loud.

you laugh before you can stop yourself. “you still remember me superstar?”

his grin widens, that same crooked one you used to tease him about. “are you kidding? i could never forget you.”

he glances down, then back at you. “you look good,” he says softly. “like, really good.”

for a second, everything fades—the cameras, the crowd, the years between you. it’s just him and you again, standing under those high school bleachers, the night air cool against your skin, the sound of your laughter echoing in the dark.

you smile, tilting your head. “so do you, mr. movie star. congratulations by the way!”

he chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck. “nah, stop. you’re gonna make me nervous before the screening.”

“you nervous?” you tease. “since when?”

he leans a little closer, that familiar spark in his eyes. “since about five minutes ago, when i saw you again.”

and suddenly, it feels like maybe the universe isn’t so bad at timing after all.

“still smooth talking i see,” you said with a smile.

“i try,” he shrugs, “stick around after the premiere? i’d love to spend some time with you.”

“if you’re lucky, i might be around.” you joke.

you give him one more glance before his agent whisks him away to shake more hands and meet more people.

he crosses the room and you admire him. the same boy you fell in love with all those years ago, with a grown man’s confidence. it was sexy.

after the premiere, the lobby’s buzzing — publicists, cameras, the smell of champagne and flash powder. you’re trying to sneak out quietly, heels already killing you, when a familiar voice catches you again.

“now i know you weren’t just gonna leave without saying bye?”

you turn. tyriq’s standing there with his tie loosened, jacket slung over one shoulder, eyes still lit up from the night.

you smile, shrugging. “didn’t wanna interrupt the star of the show.”

“oh please,” he laughs.

for a beat, it’s just silence between the two of you.

the city hums around you - traffic, music from the afterparty, people laughing in the distance - but somehow it feels like he's the only thing in focus. he clears his throat.

"can i take you to dinner?" he asks. not cocky, not smooth — just honest. "not a premiere thing, not a celebrity thing. just... me and you catching up. like old times. or... maybe new times."

your chest tightens. you tilt your head, smirking. “is this your way of making sure i don’t escape again?”

he grins, leaning in a little. “maybe. but i’m hoping you’ll say yes anyway.”

you nod. then you slip your fingers into his.

his smile grows, warm enough to fight off the november chill.

"there's a spot a few blocks down," he says. "quiet place. good food. you'll like it."

you shake your head, smiling despite yourself. "you don't even know what i like anymore."