“Calm down.”

“I’m calm,” Rafe barks down the stairs, standing on the landing as he looks down at him. “Does it look like I give a shit?”

“Greatly.” Topper’s voice breaks, his eyebrows softening as he holds back a nervous laugh. Rafe rolls his eyes and pushes his sleeves higher on his forearms, his heavy feet pounding across the floorboards.

“Party’s over,” he shouts, banging his fist against JJ’s door, knowing there isn’t a soul behind it but keeping up the act like he doesn’t know exactly where he’s going or who he’s looking for.

He grabs the handle of the shitty bathroom door, shoulder checking it rough enough to pop the little brass lock open with barely any effort at all.

Your eyes go wide in the dark as you look back at him from your place on the bathroom counter, your lips pulling away from Peyton’s as he splits your thighs.

The light from behind Rafe sends his shadow across the floor, his shoulders rising and falling with every rough breath he takes.

“Get the fuck out.”

Your heart lurches as those four words leave his lips, making your stomach fall and your hands shake with adrenaline.

“Oh, sorry, buddy.” Peyton smiles, not quite gauging the temperature in the room or realizing that Rafe’s restraint is hanging by a thread. He catches on fast enough, though, the smile slipping from his face as he mutters uneasily, “Is the party over? I—”

“Get… the fuck… out,” Rafe repeats, slower and meaner, whatever buddy-buddy relationship they’d built from passing each other in the gym going out the window and fucking fast.

Peyton goes to help you off the counter, the confusion painted all over his face. “Don’t.” Rafe’s hand shoots out, grabbing Peyton’s and shoving it away before he can reach you.

His eyes stay locked on yours as you slip off the counter by yourself, heels clicking across the floor as you scoff, but he reaches out for you.

“What the fuck, man?” Peyton calls back when he sees Rafe stop you and you yank your arm away. Rafe turns toward him before he can say another word, chest to chest, his eyes tight and his jaw locked.

“Get the fuck out of my house—she’s not comin’ with you.” The words come out flat and final as you blow out a frustrated breath. Peyton’s head swerves to look past him, back at you, but you wave him away with a sigh.

“Just go, Peyton. I’ll—I’ll call you later,” you mumble.

Rafe grabs Peyton’s shirt, shoving him through the door before slamming it shut hard enough for the hinges to rattle on the frame. Your heart sinks, the corners of your lips trembling as you try not to smirk.

Because maybe this is exactly what you wanted to happen.

Your thumb flicks along the screen of your phone, opening the Uber app as Rafe looks down at you, and he laughs cruelly, reaching out to hook one hand around your waist, the other fisting your hair before you can get another word out.

He kisses you deep and rough, pulling you closer, stealing the breath out of your chest. You kiss him back just as hard, fingers curling into the front of his shirt until you pull away first, leaving him chasing your mouth before he finds it.

Crack. Your hand slaps him so fast and sharp his head snaps to the side. Rafe’s tongue presses against his cheek because he may have liked that a little more than he thought he would—and if he were in your good graces he’d probably beg you to do it again.

Rafe’s hand rubs across his sharp jaw as he chuckles, red blooming on his cheek from the slap.

He hooks his fingers into the waistband of his boxers, tugging it out far enough to look down. He blows out a little whistle, letting a smile tug at his lips. “That was a close one—almost came.”

“Fuck you, Rafe.” You try to walk past him, but he catches you, pulling you to his lips, kissing you so hard your back bends, his biceps flexing where your nails dig into his arms.

“You done yet?” he asks against your lips, his words humming against your mouth.

“Not really,” you whisper, and he huffs out a tight breath.

“Can’t believe you fuckin’ kissed him.”

“Can’t believe you wasted my fucking time,” you challenge him, his hold tightening on your hair, his grip strong on your body. “Again.”

“This is what you wanted, huh? My attention—you fuckin’ got it.”

“You think this was about getting your attention?” You smile against his lips, giggling with your soft exhale. “Baby, look at you.”

“The fuck are you hanging out with Peyton for anyways?”

“I don’t know,” you murmur, thinking it through just enough to piss him off some more. “Kinda into football these days.”

He doesn’t even have a response to that, his jaw ticking as he swallows hard. You lick your lips slowly, taunting him.

“Jealousy looks good on you, Rafe. Honesty would look even better.”

“The fuck are you talking about?” He steps into you, pressing you back until your back bumps the sink.

“You sure seem to care a lot for someone who doesn’t give a shit about me,” you whisper.

“Never said that,” he murmurs.

“Figured that part out on my own,” you whisper.

“Just get on your fuckin’ knees,” he mutters as he unbuckles his belt in one swift movement. Because you’re wrong—he cares way more than he wanted to, and now he’s in trouble.

“Say please,” you whisper.

He barks out a laugh, looking away from you as you stare up at him, but the only thing standing between him and the woman he wants is the word he fuckin’ hates.

“Say… please.” Your voice is so light and condescending he loses his train of thought.

“I’m not asking you again,” he warns, his head turning back toward you.

“Funny thing about that,” you whisper.

“Neither are you,” he mumbles. “Fuckin’ brat.”

“Holy shit, Cameron,” you breathe, and he holds his breath for a moment, waiting for what you’ll say next. “You’re not as dumb as you look.”

“Oh my god. Please.” He presses the word out fast. “Fucking please, okay?”

You hold his stare for another second, making him wait, before slowly lowering yourself in front of him.

“Mouth open. Tongue out. C’mon.” He doesn’t break eye contact, his glare searing right through you. Every inch of your skin prickles with lust. Your pulse races, and still you lean in.

Rafe holds himself just out of reach at first, savoring your momentary obedience, watching the way your mouth opens without hesitation, your breath held as you wait. His cock is heavy in his fist, precum beading at the tip, and he knows you want it. That’s half the point.

He slaps it against your outstretched tongue. “You’re so easy to read, you know that?” he lies as a soft moan escapes your throat.

His cock slides along your tongue as your lips wrap around him, his hand settling in your hair again, guiding you—using you.

“That’s it,” he groans, voice low and rough as his fingers tighten in your hair, dragging your head back just enough for him to watch your lips stretch around him before bringing you forward again.

“Couldn’t just make this easy on me,” he mutters. “Losing my shit downstairs. Is that what you wanted?”

You hum around him, lashes fluttering, spit slicking your chin as he starts to thrust deeper. You sputter but you don’t stop.

His hand pushes you down until you’re throating his dick, your jaw sore, eyes stinging, but you don’t pull back.

His other hand grips the counter, knuckles white—his hips give this messy little jerk every time you take him deeper, his breath catching.

He watches you, possessiveness thick in the air between you. “Look at you,” he mutters. “Such a fuckin’ slut for me,” he hisses, breath ragged.

You can feel how close he is—the way his thighs go tight, the way his breath snags every time your tongue catches him just right.

His head tips back as he forces your mouth down one more time, burying himself so deep you gag around him, tears spilling from the corners of your eyes.

Rafe drags you off with a rough hand, groaning as he strokes himself furiously, the head of his cock flushed an angry red as he gets so close to release he can barely speak. “Keep that mouth open for me,” he pants. “Wanna see it—”

And then he shudders, thick ropes spilling hot and messy across your tongue, your lips, your chin, dripping down your throat as you hold your position, eyes glassy and wide as the last of him pulses onto your waiting tongue.

“Look at this mess, baby,” he hums. “That’s mine. All of it. Just fuckin’ mine…”

He hauls you to your feet, his mouth crashing against yours in a wet, owning kiss. He spins you toward the mirror, still holding your hair, forcing you to look.

Rafe’s big hand splays flat over your stomach, pinning you tight to the cool counter, your reflection hazy in the mirror—your hair tangled, mouth parted, eyes wet as he stands behind you.

“Can’t even fight that fucking smile,” he mutters as his hand slides down your stomach and under your skirt, pawing down your panties in one harsh pull.

You bite your lip as a grin tips at the corner of your mouth, but you shake your head no. His forehead falls to your shoulder as he pushes out a sharp breath through his nose, his fingers gliding up your pussy, feeling how wet you are.

“This for me?” he asks, his voice hoarse with want and frustration.

You keep the yes to yourself, letting him suffer instead, the look on your face a subtle reminder that you didn’t come in here with him to begin with—the thought of you and Peyton locked away in his house before he stormed in nothing short of a nightmare to him.

“You’re impossible,” he mutters against your skin.

His eyes catch yours in the mirror as his lips press to your neck, trailing down. Then he bites hard, teeth sinking into you, your fingers bracing the countertop as he pushes his cock into your wet pussy in one rough thrust.

He goes completely still, his forehead dropping against you as both hands find your lower back. The breath that leaves him is long and deep, a drawn-out sigh of relief as he feels you around him, your body under his hands, your skin against his lips as he breathes in your perfume.

“Feels so—so fucking good, baby,” he mumbles against you, so fucked-out and gentle you almost don’t catch it.

He pulls back his hips, drawing out of you slowly enough that you hear it, shoving himself back in so rough you gasp, his hand reaching out to catch you as your palms slap against the bathroom counter.

He dips his head in again, his gold chain tumbling out of his shirt, the pendant with your initial landing against your shoulder—the playboy, so tremendously down bad you can’t help the teasing laugh that bubbles from your lips.

He gives you a look like he’s annoyed—like he’s tired of your shit but the feeling’s mutual.

“Tell me what you want, Rafe,” you sigh.

He rolls his eyes in frustration, and a laugh slips past your lips before his hand drifts up your neck, two fingers hooking into one corner of the mouth he just claimed.

The free corner of your lips curls into a smirk, and he blows out a breath, his eyes challenging yours before he breaks.

“Only you.”

you move, hovering on top of him. your face met with the sight of his abs covered in lined powders, knees on the mattress. while hes met with the sight of your plump ass and clothed cunt from behind. unfortunately, the only fabric separating is your shorts. youre not wearing underwear on purpose cause you forgot.

“y’know what to do.” the roll of a hundred dollar bill rests between his fingers. he doesnt hand it to you. he makes you take it.

you take the bill between his fingers, skin brushing. your teeth gritting nervously.

“attagirl.” he settles deeper into the pillow. “make it count.”

you lean over him, bending even more. one hand braced on his abs. his skin is hot, with a faint sheen of sweat.

his warm breath and nose brushing against your pussy. you bit your lower lip.

without looking back, you know damn well hes staring at you so intensely and heavily. so, you hesitate a bit.

you finally pull the bill to your nose and take the line in one sharp pull. the burn hits the back of your throat sharply. you gasp against his skin, almost coughing.

his massive hand lands at the back of your head. fingers twisting into your hair, yanking you backward. hes so commanding when it came to his weird fantasies, but you let him. cause, youre as of a freak as he is.

the coke hits you in a slow wave. you can feel everything. the pulse of his blood under your palm, tight tension in his thighs, and the way his chest rises and falls.

his other fingers tease your puffy folds, going up and down the line. circling your clit just barely. you clenched at nothing, how desperate.

“rafe, stop teasi—”

“did i tell you to speak?” a spank lands on your right cheek, you jolt. your ass jiggling at the movement. rafe watches it like its the hottest thing hes ever seen.

tears pricked at the corner of your eyes. you put your face down on his abs, cheeks sticking to the leftover powder.

rafe continues kneading the fat of your ass. he palms the back of your thigh, spreading you wide. letting out a low whistle when he saw a visible damp spot on your cunt. “so fuckin’ needy.”

he drags you down onto his face until youre grinding against his wet lips, biting. though, not hard enough to hurt. your moan is muffled by his abs when you went to the second rail.

“keep going.” hooking his thumbs into the waistband of your shorts. tugging them upward, to see the way your shorts stretch around your cunt and your ass. “shorts, no panties. you been thinkin’ bout it, huh.”

he took them down, quickly licking a slow stripe right up your slick heat.

your nose drags across the third rail, his abs flex under you. fat cock leaking hard inside his pants. your eyes almost rolled when he licks your pussy.

the third rail vanishes in one burning pull. your heart slammed against your ribs. suddenly, everything felt brighter.

you trace your fingers further to the blue veins on his v-line, hundred dollar bill resting on your hand long forgotten.

rafe trails his lips along your pussy. then, latching his lips onto your folds. giving them a one firm suck.

his tongue drags flat from your entrance all the way up. he laps, circles your clit with the tip. sucking it between his lips again and holding it for seconds. your knees shake.

“keep snorting, baby.” mouth still buried in you. “and when youre done, you gonna come all over my face while i watch you drip.” tongue curls inside you, he groaned.

his hands wrap around your hips, pulling you down harder, fucking your cunt against his mouth. you squirm.

“quit squirmin’.” he slaps your pussy lightly. the sting makes your cunt throb and get wetter.

he pushes three thick fingers inside your velvety wall. both of your eyes are rolled back, it feels so good. his fingers stretching your cunt in every way. “mhmm.. rafe—”

you grind your ass onto his face, chasing more pleasure. he crooks his fingers in time with the flicks of his tongue. groaning low against your clit every time you clenched around him.

rafe spat onto your folds, thick glob landing wet and warm. “what a tight pussy,” he works his tongue again. practically making out with your pussy, as his fingers sinking more deep.

“oh, fuck—rafe!”

he curls his thick fingers hard, hitting that spot. you sob his name into his abs, moving your hips in rhythm and press down to his face.

“please, im gonna—”

“cum?” he laughs against you. the vibration making your thighs shake. “do it. cum on my face, soak my tongue.”

and then his fingers crook up harder, mouth closes over your clit and sucks. your whole body seizes, moans come louder and lips forming in a ‘o’ shape.

it floods out of you in a hot gush. soaking his chin, lips, and drips down to his broad chest. your thighs trembling, clamping his head shut. bed sheet wet.

"holy shit," voice muffled between your thighs.

he doesnt move, still keeping his mouth on you. he laps the slick juices coming from you, almost drinking it.

rafe pulls his face away, leaning back into the pillow. “thats so fucking hot.”