#day 17

“You gon’ keep whisperin’ like that, or you gon’ say a nigga’s name for real?”

“Man, ‘gon on…” you mumbled as you rolled your eyes and folded your arms across your chest, but your heart was already beating too fast. “You forget people besides me sleep in this house, Smoke. You tryna get my ass in deep shit.”

“Ain’t tryin’ to get you in trouble, baby. Just tryin’ to see if you can stay quiet like you did last time.”

Your face warmed as the memory flashed through you; he saw it, the way your breath hitched and thighs clenched, and chuckled under his breath.

“Knew you’d remember,” he said softly. “Shit, even if you didn’t, I’m here to remind yo ass.”

You tried to hold on to your composure, but he stepped closer, the scent of tobacco and river water clinging to him.

His voice slid right against your ear, velvety smooth. “You ain’t always gotta be quiet,” he whispered. “I like hearin’ what I do to you.”

“I can’t risk it,” you said, too quick, too shaky.

“We’ll see.”

The wooden floor creaked as he moved comfortably, leading you back into your bedroom and shutting the door with a kick; outside, a whip-poor-will bleated out once, then twice. Everything else was quiet, except for the sound of your unsteady breathing. The anticipation was killing you because you suspected he was going to fuck you so hard you couldn't keep quiet.

“We ain’t got time for dick suckin’ and cooze eatin’,” you sassed as you spread over the bed, head settling comfortably against the pillows. “Get to strokin’, nigga.”

He chuckled deeply while following you on the bed. With a skilled quickness he unzipped his britches and pulled himself free, knees sinking into the mattress while he peered down at you, dress hiked up to your waist, no panties. “Oh, you bold tonight. It’s only been what—a week since I last fucked you. You missed it, huh?”

He lined himself up against your entrance, dragging his tip up and down your wet slit, only stopping to smack the swollen head against your sensitive clit, making you gasp and jerk beneath him in anticipation.

He slowly pushed inside, and your mouth fell open, but you quickly closed it, fighting back the scream that was about to escape.

“Goddamn,” he groaned deeply, pulling out a little once he was halfway in and sinking back in, watching your pussy stretch around him. “You done closed up on me after a week?”

“Maybe if you fucked me more than once a week, I wouldn’t be so damn tight.”

He grinned at your sassy rebuttal, knowing damn well he was about to put a stop to all that back talk. He pulled all the way out before plunging back in, damn near knocking the wind out of you. 

“Oh my god, Smoke,” you gasped, clutching his giant arms and spreading your legs wider to grant him better access. 

“What happened to stayin’ quiet, hmm?” He teased as he kissed your lips.

“Shut up,” you grumbled against his lips, trying to take in deeper breaths through your nose.

He straightened up and began thrusting inside you, intensifying the tempo once he discovered a good rhythm. Soon, the room was filled with the sound of your wetness, his hips grinding hard against yours, and his heavy breaths.

“Smoke,” you moaned breathlessly. He groaned in response as he was beginning to enjoy the way you got louder with each stroke.

“C’mon, baby,” he grunted softly, hand squeezing your breast through your dress, “My name the only word you know now?” 

You were only halfway through the witty retort when the faint rumble of an engine interrupted the silence. Headlights danced across the sheer curtains, throwing pale stripes on your walls.

“Lord have mercy—” you whispered. “That’s daddy’s Buick.”

Smoke frowned. “Shit, Ray home already?”

“Fuck! Both him and Ruthie must’ve left the revival early.”

A car door slammed outside, and shortly after, the high-pitched squeal of the front screen followed. Your father’s deep voice boomed through the hall, half scolding, half exhausted, and your little sister giggled behind him.

You nearly threw Smoke right off the bed. “Hide, fool!” you hissed.

He slid off the bed onto the floor, quick and silent, crouching in the shadow between the dresser and the window. You smothered a laugh as you took in the way his dick shimmered with your juices in the dark. The old boards creaked once under his weight, and you both froze, anxious as hell.

Footsteps sounded in the front room, then in the kitchen. A match lit up, wafting the smell of pipe tobacco onto the floorboards, alongside the scent of honeysuckle outside the open window.

Ruthie giggled again. After a few static minutes, the house settled again, wood cooling and insects buzzing outside.

Smoke looked up at you from the floor, brown eyes glinting in the dim light. He rose without so much as a sound, moving close enough to you that the air around you became charged again.

“Hush now,” he whispered, luscious lips brushing against your ear. “One sound, and they’ll know exactly who’s in your late mama’s house.”

You swallowed hard, heart pounding loud, thinking it would give you away. “Yo ass is the devil, Smoke,” you muttered.

He grinned, low and mischievously. “Why you keep lettin’ a nigga in every time he knock then, huh?”

You didn’t respond because you weren’t willing to admit the reason. Even if his smug ass already knew it.

“Let me sneak you out…” you whispered as you gripped his shoulder.

“Fuck that,” he shook his head, snatching away from you. “We ain’t even nut yet.”

“Smoke,” you exhaled sharply as you pinched the bridge of your nose in frustration. “If we get cau—“

“—You want to cum tonight or not?”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” he smirked, stroking himself slowly. “Now bend that ass over so I can get back to work.”

You braced your hands against the mattress, locking your knees back, damn near all the way up on your tippy toes. The thrill of getting caught was damn near enough to send you over the edge.

He gripped your hips and gently rocked back into you, circling his hips a few times before setting a pace that wasn’t too rough but still had him fucking the breath right out of you.

It didn’t take long for your walls to tighten back up around his fat dick; you trembled silently, choking on your own gasps and whimpers. He slapped a hand over your mouth as you came around him, your scream of pleasure muffled in his palm.

“Mhm, that’s what the fuck I’m talkin’ ‘bout, baby,” Smoke grunted as he yanked you up until your back was pressed against his chest, hand still covering your mouth while he kept stroking. “Give me all that shit.” 

You bit into his palm, hoping that your moans weren’t heard past your teeth digging into his flesh as he not so subtly rammed into you, chasing his own release. He let out a hushed groan, thrusts faltering as he spilled inside of you. 

“No way in hell I’m waitin’ another week to be inside you again, Y/N,” he said lowly in your ear as he dropped his hand from your mouth, sliding it down your chin to grip the base of your neck. “You hear me?”

You nodded as you took in deeper breaths through your nose. “I hear you.”

“With Simon, it’s always, “you don’t have to,” and then he’s like, “but I want to,” and so I just think I’m lucky to have him.”

Gaz turns to you with a look. “Perhaps he’s a freak who gets off on that.”

You’re almost sure it’s said as a joke, but you return the incredulous look anyway, shaking your head. “He is many things, but I think that’s a little far fetched.”

Gaz only shrugs, continuing on about other things he’s done throughout the day. You were half listening, thinking about Simon, because maybe— just maybe….

“Simon, can you..” you start, holding out your foot.

He’s at your side in only a few strides, unlacing the shoe and taking it off, beckoning for the other.

He smiles and you thank him, missing the obvious tent in his pants.

You think Kyle’s wrong, there’s no way he got off on this kind of thing— surely.

“Can I?” Simon asks a few hours later, wanting to help you out of clothes, shower with you, and put you to sleep.

Normally you’d let him, but now…?

“You have a look on your face,” he deadpans, tilting your head up at him.

“Kyle said you get off on helping me,” you say back, knowing Simon appreciated honesty more than beating around the bush.

But it’s Simon who gets choked up, blush obvious in his red ears and burning face.

“It’s true?!” You laugh, smiling at him. Shocking? A little. Surprising? Not really after all the signs you missed.

“I’m gonna kill him.”

“No, no. Cmon, help me out of my clothes, you freak.”

“Don’t degrade me,” he says incredulously, helping you out of your shirt first.

You only roll your eyes, raising your arms for him. “What if I thanked you for the help? Hm?”

“Yeah? How would you thank me?”

“Freak.” You say again, which elicits a gruff laugh from the man.

You do end up thanking him, however, making him do things for you while shamelessly groping him around the house. He swears he’s never been harder before.

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