#lewis pullman character

“Hey, Dan, congrats on the promotion.” His friend David pats him on the back. Dan nods and thanks him, distracted. He walks away toward his new office—a tangible perk of the promotion, a private space with real walls and a door he can close.

He grabs the doorknob and steps inside. What he sees leaves him speechless.

There you are. In the corner, to the right of the large window overlooking the gray evening sky, wearing a long, blood-red silk dress that clings to your body like a second skin, ready for the Christmas party that night. You’re standing on a chair by his new, spacious desk, tying up a small mistletoe with a red ribbon.

When you sense his presence, you turn your head slightly and say, “Hey… hi, sweetheart,” as you try to step down. He moves quickly, hands finding your waist, holding you steady as he helps you down. His hands linger on your hips a second longer than necessary.

“What are you doing, love?” he asks near your ear, his voice a low, rough whisper. Only then does he really look around—and his new office surprises him. It’s no longer just a few decorations in a cubicle. There’s a tall, elegant tree in one corner, draped in white lights and silver ornaments. Pine garlands with red berries frame the bookshelves. On the shelf, a tiny snowy village glows softly, and at the center of his desk, beside the monitor, sits a blown-glass snowman. The air carries a faint scent of cinnamon and pine.

As he takes it all in, overwhelmed, you simply smile and say, “I’m just so happy about your promotion, love. So I thought I’d help you decorate.”

He can only smile at your joy and enthusiasm—both for his achievement and for Christmas. “Help me, huh?” he jokes, gesturing at the abundance of decorations. “Looks like Santa’s workshop exploded in here.”

You grin, lightly smacking his chest, offended. “Of course not! I just didn’t want your new office to be gloomy and gray,” you say with a pout, looking away from him.

He notices. Gently, he cups your cheek, guiding your face back to his. His eyes are warm. He leans in and presses a soft kiss to the tip of your nose. “It couldn’t possibly be depressing if you’re here,” he murmurs. “And besides… I see you brought backup.” His gaze flicks to the mistletoe still in your hand.

Your smile widens, fingers curling delicately around the red ribbon. “Are you ready to welcome Christmas, sweetheart?”

...

The office party is in full swing. The common room, decorated with lights and garlands, echoes with soft music, laughter, and the clinking of glasses. A long table offers a Christmas dinner: turkey, mashed potatoes, brussels sprouts, and abundant desserts. The air is warm, heavy with the aroma of spices, wine, and light perfume.

Dan is standing by the window, talking to Jake and another colleague from the finance department about projections for the next quarter. Or at least, he's trying to concentrate on the conversation. You're standing next to him, your arm casually linked with his, but you've been turning the last thirty minutes into sweet, slow torture for him.

Your hand rests on his chest, your fingers absentmindedly playing with the top button of his shirt, sometimes brushing his jawline as you turn to listen to the others. When Jake tells a joke, you laugh and, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, your body leans toward Dan's, your side pressing against his, your warmth penetrating the thin fabric of his suit and your silk dress.

At another moment, as Dan's boss approaches to congratulate him, you position yourself slightly behind him, and your hand, previously on his chest, moves down to draw small circles on the lower back of his jacket. Your breath, perfumed with red wine and chocolate, caresses his neck as you lean in to whisper something banal in his ear: “How nice, isn't it?” He feels a chill that has nothing to do with the air conditioning.

As you move toward the dessert table to get another pastry, your steps synchronize with his, and as you pass through a narrow space between the armchairs, your hand slides from his arm to the small of his back, guiding him with an intimacy that cries out for private space. Your smile for others is bright and friendly, perfectly appropriate. But for him, every glance you give him from under your lashes, every casual brush of your hips against his, every time you gently bite your lower lip while looking at him.

He notices everything. Every one of your little games. His focus on the finance conversation evaporates, replaced by a growing, unmistakable tension. He knows you’re provoking him on purpose, yet when his eyes search yours, questioning, you only return a look of crystal-clear innocence, as if you have no idea of the effect your closeness, your perfume, your hands are having on him. You offer him a bite of your dessert on your fork, and as you lean in, the neckline of your red dress casts a tempting shadow that only he can appreciate from his angle.

“Everything okay, sweetheart?” you ask softly, brushing an imaginary crumb from the corner of his mouth with your thumb—an intimate gesture that makes his heart race.

Dan nods, trying to regain his composure, fully aware of what you’re doing behind that innocent act.

...

After dessert, the gathering breaks up into small, lively groups. Some get up to get more drinks, others gather around the impromptu karaoke machine, and a couple engage in a heated discussion about the best Christmas movies. It's the perfect moment, the noise and distraction are at their peak.

With an innocent smile that only he can decipher, your hand slides from his arm to his wrist. Your fingers close with a sweet but undeniable firmness. “Come,” you whisper, and without giving him time to protest, you drag him into the shadows of the hallway, away from the music and laughter, toward the quiet of the office wing. His steps, hesitant at first, soon quicken to follow you.

The door to his new office closes with a soft click, and the sudden calm, broken only by the faint echo of the party, is overwhelming. In an instant, your hands are on his chest, pushing him back until the backs of his knees hit the edge of his executive chair. You climb on top of him with determination, one leg on either side of his hips, sinking him into the leather seat that now feels incredibly narrow. Your mouth finds his neck, and you begin to cover it with kisses, wet smacks in the stillness of the room. Each one is an electric shock, a sensation of warmth and softness that makes the hairs on his arms stand on end and makes him hold his breath. He feels the brush of your eyelashes against his skin, the perfect weight of your body on top of his.

His hands, trembling, cling to your waist, feeling the slippery silk of the dress under his palms. It is when your hips begin to move, a gentle, hypnotic, circular sway against him, that the world fades away. He feels his own arousal, a hard, growing bulge that tenses painfully against the fabric of his pants, now pressed by the insistent, delicious movement of your body.

A tremulous gasp escapes his lips. “B… Babe… ahh… Baby, s-stop…,” he pleads, but his hands don’t let go; on the contrary, his fingers dig into your waist.

You ignore him, increasing the pressure, rubbing against him with more determination, feeling his hardness through the layers of fabric. “Mmm, someone might come in and notice we're not here, and… ahhh…” He gasps breathlessly, his words trailing off.

Then, suddenly, you slide off his lap. He thinks, for a second of mixed relief and frustration, that you finally understand. But you fall to your knees on the floor in front of him, smiling. Your hands reach out, deftly unbuttoning his pants, pulling down the zipper. Your soft hand closes around his cock, which gives a warm, lively twitch against his belly as it is freed. You hold it, playing with the weight in your palm, running your thumb over the pink, shiny tip, already covered in precum that glistens in the dim light of the Christmas garlands.

Then you tilt your head. Your red lips, soft and smooth, settle on the sensitive tip. You give it a lick, a long, slow kittenish caress, savoring it on your tongue. From below, your eyes look up at him, bright and mischievous. “So delicious,” you whisper, your hot breath on his skin. “Better than dessert.”

And then you take it into your mouth, devouring it.

The sensation is immediate and overwhelming. A perfect, moist heat envelops you, your tongue tracing expert paths along its length. You suck with an eagerness that makes him arch his back, a guttural sound escaping from his throat. He knows he should stop you, that this is crazy, but he can't. His hands bury themselves in your hair, not to push you away, but to guide you, firmly. The room fills with wet sounds, your soft clicks and slurps, the rubbing of your lips against his skin, his restrained gasps. It's a hypnotic rhythm, exquisite torture, and he loses himself in it.

Until a foreign sound interrupts: a sharp knock on the door.

You stop immediately, but it's too late. The door opens and his boss pokes his head in, his cheeks flushed from wine.

Dan's eyes widen. He sits up abruptly in his chair, forcing himself to sit up straight as his heart pounds. You remain on the floor, still, the large solid wood desk, with its front reaching almost to the floor, completely hiding your body. Dan gives a quick and frantic thank you to heaven for that. He is a little flushed, his tie slightly crooked, but nothing that, at first glance, gives away what was happening seconds before.

“Dan, there you are. We were looking for you to make a toast,” the boss says, one eyebrow slightly raised.

“Excuse me, Mr. Jenkins,” Dan says, his voice miraculously steady, though a shade deeper than usual. "It's just that… I thought I'd go over some of the data for tomorrow's presentation, to make sure everything was perfect. I didn't want anything to slip through the cracks at the last minute." He gives small, believable details, mentioning a client's name and a projected figure, while his mind races a mile a minute.

As this happens, you, down there, with the head of his cock still just inches from your lips, can't resist. You tilt your head back and give a small, gentle lick at its base. Then another, a little higher up.

Dan's eyes open even wider, a jolt of pleasure and panic running through him. His voice changes, becoming noticeably hoarser. “Yes, the… the cost report… it's crucial,” he manages to articulate, as your lips, shiny and wet, close around him again, taking him deep into your mouth in a silent but intense suck. His knuckles turn white as he clings to the edge of the desk, hoping, praying, that his boss won't notice the tremor in his hands or the sudden glisten of sweat on his forehead.

Luckily, Jenkins doesn't seem to notice. “Very dedicated, as always. I like that. But tonight is a celebration. You should go back to the party, the toast is for you.” He gives a friendly pat in the air, gives him one last approving look, and finally turns and leaves, closing the door behind him.

The click of the lock is the sweetest sound Dan has ever heard.

Only about five seconds of tense silence pass, filled with bated breath. Then Dan springs into action. His hands grab you by the shoulders and pull you out of your hiding place, lifting you off the floor and pulling you toward him with force. Before you can say anything, his lips capture yours, shiny and slightly swollen. He kisses you hungrily, urgently, savoring the salty, intimate aftertaste of himself in your mouth.

He pulls back only an inch, his ragged breathing mingling with yours. “You’re going to drive me crazy, love,” he murmurs, his voice a low, rough whisper full of adoration and exasperation. Then he leans in again, claiming your mouth hungrily.

And you, in his arms, can only smile devilishly against his lips.

"Can you stop?" he mutters under his breath.

I'm just trying to save you the heartache. Sure, she's nice, but she's nice to everyone. She just doesn't wanna hurt your feelings. She thinks you're weird. Really weird.

It's been non-stop all morning. Yesterday, too. And the day before that, and the day before that, and the day before-

Dan can't remember the last time it wasn't there.

The Voice. Constantly nagging, on and on and on.

Gonna be late for the meeting because you had to fall asleep again for three minutes.

You text your grandma to go fuck herself instead of goodnight, you know you did.

Walk on the other side of the road, you creep, you're making that poor girl uncomfortable.

A finger points over his shoulder, tapping his computer screen over and over.

Spelling mistake. Right there, the Voice says in a smarmy tone. Good job I caught it before you hit send, huh? You would've looked like an idiot.

He scoffs, a sharp breath against the back of Dan's neck that makes him flinch.

Well, a bigger idiot.

Fabric rustles as he straightens up. Dan has every sound committed to memory. It's infuriating.

"Can you just give me ten minutes to myself?" he asks, and he hates how small his voice sounds.

Why? comes the immediate demanding reply.

A glance at the clock on his computer tells him it's almost lunchtime.

"Because I ha- I just need a minute. To think."

Thought you needed ten. God, buddy, make up your mind. Consistency, see that's your problem. A too-hard smack on the shoulder that jostles the chair. No wonder you got passed up for that promotion.

Dan pushes his glasses up to pinch the bridge of his nose in frustration. He's going to end up with a permanent mark there if he's not careful.

"Look, just give me ten minutes, and then you can bug me all you want for the rest of the day. You can double down on it to make up for the time you lost. Whatever you want. Just…Please."

This is pathetic. Even for him. Because he's arguing with himself. And he knows that.

The muffled sound of a foot tapping against the faded carpet.

Fine, he eventually replies. But you screw up even once - one wrong word, one slip-up, even a crack in your voice - and I'm coming right back. You got that?

Dan nods. He jumps as strong hands clap down on his shoulders, shaking him.

Great! Good talk, buddy. See you in, what? Three minutes? No, no, that's too much. Two minutes.

With a long breath, Dan stands up. Gives himself a minute to stretch. Shit, he's really doing this.

Oh, before I forget - your fly's down.

His eyes dart down immediately. It's not. Of course it's not.

You're too easy. Good luck out there! God knows you're gonna need it.

The short walk to your desk seems to take forever. He feels like he's climbing a mountain as he makes away across the office. Have his hands always been this sweaty?

You don't think he's weird. At least, he doesn't think so. Besides, he's seen your desk. Polaroids of you and your friends in costume at a Hallowe'en party are tacked to your cubicle wall, and around your monitor sits a neatly arranged collection of figurines.

And you're not just nice to him for the sake of it. One time in the breakroom, he got carried away and rambled on about Star Trek for ten minutes, and not once did you try and stop him. If anything, you encouraged him. He remembers how interested you looked too, chin resting in your hand as you asked him questions.

Who does that if they're just being nice?

You'd even remembered his birthday. You'd bought him a figurine of Data from The Next Generation.

"Y'know, because you like Star Trek and you work with a lot of data and figures and stuff," you'd explained awkwardly when he'd just silently stared up at you.

The reason he hadn't said anything right away was because he could feel himself getting choked up, and he wasn't about to make you feel bad for giving himself such a thoughtful gift.

Maybe he is reading too far into everything. Maybe you are just being nice to him, and he should be grateful for that and quit while he's ahead. But he's never met anyone like you before. And he's tired of letting the Voice tell him what to do.

You haven't left for lunch yet. He still has a chance. Maybe he should ask you while you're still at your desk. No, he'd feel like a creep, looming over you the entire time. He should sit down to talk to you. Can't sit on the floor, that'd be weird. Can't sit on the edge of your desk either, that wouldn't be much better.

He could pull a chair over. That doesn't sound terrible. But he should ask first. He doesn't want you to feel cornered.

He can't remember the last time he thought about anything a normal amount, but this is bordering on ridiculous — even for him.

He clears his throat as he approaches your desk, hoping to give you a heads-up without scaring you. You turn around, surprised to see him.

"Dan. Hi," you say with a little smile. "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, everything's-" He stops, trying to swallow. His mouth is so dry all of a sudden. "Everything's fine."

You don't look convinced, but you're kind enough not to question him on it.

He gestures to the chair at the empty desk next to yours. "Do you mind if I…?"

"Um, sure," you reply. "I was actually about to head out to lunch soon."

Panic starts to set in. He nods, knuckles turning white as he grips the back of the chair. "No, I know, me too. I, um- I wanted to ask you something. It'll only take a minute, I promise."

Judging by your expression, he's not making a lot of sense. "What's up?"

Oh, God. Here it is. The moment he's been dreading. More than plucking up the courage to drag himself over here, more than rehearsing what he's going to say to you.

This is where it could all go wrong. Maybe he shouldn't do this. What if you say no? What if things become awkward between you after this? Because they will, of course they will.

What if—

"I was wondering if you wanted to- if you would like to go out sometime. With me."

Welp. He did it. It's not how he practiced it at all, but he did it. It's finally out of his mouth.

You still look confused. Not a promising sign.

"You mean…like hang out? After work?" you ask.

He nods, a bit too enthusiastically. He feels jittery. Worse than usual.

"Sure. I mean, no, not exactly. It'd be more like a…date?"

Your eyes widen. At last the penny has dropped. He feels as if he's frozen in place, breath caught in his throat as he waits for you to say something. Anything.

And then, a smile pulls at the corners of your lips, and Dan almost chokes in relief.

"Yeah. I'd, um, I'd really like that," you reply shyly.

It takes everything in him not to jump out of his seat in excitement. His hands are definitely shaking.

"Okay. Okay, great," he says, trying to force himself to sound normal and not at all ecstatic. "I'll, uh, I'll let you get going. I don't want to be taking up any more of your lunch break than I already have."

"Why don't you come with me?" you ask suddenly.

Dan just gawks at you, mouth opening and closing uselessly. He's starting to think he hit his head in the shower this morning, and all of this has been a lovely dream. It's too good to be true.

Eventually, he nods. "I'd like that. Let me just…"

He turns to look back at his desk. The Voice is sitting in his chair, idly spinning in circles and staring blankly up at the ceiling.

"You know what? I'm good," he says resolutely. "Let's go."

You give him an odd look, but say nothing as you retrieve your bag.

"I was thinking, there's this new Japanese place across the street I've been meaning to try," he says as the two of you make your way to the elevator.

"I've been hearing good things about it," you reply. "You wanna go there?"

It's such a normal, everyday conversation — one that he might take for granted if it were with anyone else, but it's you and he feels like he's walking on air. It's been a long time since he's felt so…free.

He catches one last glimpse of the Voice as the elevator doors slide shut.

"Hey," you call softly, pulling him out of his thoughts. "You okay?"

When he meets your gaze, it's to find you smiling at him, slight concern in your eyes. He couldn't stop himself from smiling back even if he tried.

"Yeah," he replies, and for the first time in a long time, he means it. "Yeah, I've…I've never been better."

You don’t miss the way his hand slips a little further up, laying perfectly on the inside of your thigh. It’s a small sound you let out, it’s barely audible, but Rhett glances down at you as his smirk grows.

“What is it?” He asks innocently, making you glare.

Not amused by his smug look, your own hand makes a move across his thigh, darting straight below his belt buckle.

He jolts, the truck sways back and forth for a moment and you laugh.

“Jesus, you’re gonna kill us, baby.” He breathes.

You lean up to his ear and whisper. “It’s not nice to tease, is it?”

Swallowing, he finds it as more of a challenge than anything. His hand completely disappears under the skirt of your dress and between your thighs, his fingers slowly rubbing you over your underwear.

The breath you let out now is significantly louder. Your teeth sink into your lower lip as you hum out.

“Fuck.” Rhett curses, adjusting in his seat, causing his growing erection to rub against your palm. He tightens his grip on the steering wheel as you palm him over his jeans.

Lunch is definitely forgotten about.

By some miracle, the two of you pull into the drive in one piece, despite his speed.

The two of you pause and look at the vacant space. No other trucks were around.

Immediately, Rhett is unbuckling the both of you and dragging you out of the truck. As he pushes you against the cab door, you try to get words out as he’s kissing you with a feverish hunger.

“Are you- mm- are you sure no one’s home?” You pant, hands on his shoulders.

“The trucks are gone, it’s our lucky day.” He chuckles lowly, gripping your ass before letting you move.

The two of you stumble to the door, trying to walk and kiss each other at the same time isn’t easy.

After fumbling with the door knob, the two of you get inside and listen to the utter quietness.

Rhett’s pulling you into the living room, too impatient to get up the stairs to his bedroom.

You knock the cowboy hat off his head, rushing your shaky fingers through his hair. You walk him backwards until he hits the couch and sits, spreading his legs and pushing his hips out before tugging you on top of him.

Straddling him, you smile. “I haven’t even done anything yet and you’re already hard.”

He grips your hips and sinks you down, dragging you against his tight jeans. “You could just look at me and I’ll get hard, sweetheart, it doesn’t take much.” He says before sucking at your neck.

Your head falls back to give him better access, your bucking against him on your own accord as you feel the warmth of his tongue and lips.

“I want you so much.” You pant, pulling the snaps of his shirt open.

Manic hands smooth across his chest as you push him to lay against the back of the couch. You trail your hand down the muscles of his stomach that flex under your touch, then you slide back to give yourself more room to unbuckle his belt. Rhett watches your actions, utterly aching against the material of his constricting jeans. He helps you push both the jeans and his boxers down, desperate for the way you wrap your soft hand around his sprung erection.

He groans at the relief, but isn’t satisfied. “Please, just let me be inside you.” He pants, pulling you closer.

“That’s what you want? You want to fuck me, Rhett?” You question dumbly.

He eyes you dark and hungrily, then he’s flipping the two of you over, pressing your back into the couch cushions. Wasting no time, he’s yanking your pretty panties down your legs and spreading you open.

So caught up in each other, Rhett pushes into you without one single thought of doubt. Tongue in your mouth, your legs wrapped around him, he’s more focused on the way your walls are tight around him than the sound that comes from upstairs.

You gasp and pull away, concern written on your face. “Did you hear that?” You pant out, his thrusts not stopping.

“The house is old, it creaks.” He tells you.

You nod, softly moaning into his mouth as he hits a perfect spot inside you. You hold onto the back of his head, focusing directly on the look in his heavy eyes.

That’s why when Perry comes down the stairs and turns into the living room, the two of you don’t notice right away.

Perry does.

“What the fuck!” He shouts, staring straight at Rhett who snaps his head up.

You yelp out, immediately mortified as you sink down so the arm of the couch hides you.

“Perry.” Rhett breathes, not sure exactly what to do. “What-what’re you doin’ here?”

“What am I doing? What the hell are you doing?” He argues, trying to look anywhere else as the two of you right yourselves and fix your clothes.

Rhett pulls his jeans back up. “Sorry we just…I could’ve sworn no one was home.”

“My trucks in the shop.” Perry explains.

You hide your face in your hands, then stand to pull your boots back on. “I’m sorry I should…bye, Perry.” You immediately rush out of the door.

Rhett chases after you, finding you already in the truck. “Baby I…” He can’t even get a sentence out before he’s laughing.

You hit his shoulder. “That was not funny, Rhett! Drive me home.” You panic, red in the face.

“Oh come on, we didn’t finish.”

„Yes, the erotica I made the class write, you remember? Are you sure you are alright?“

„Ah yes, the erotica, of course, how could I forget. Just a little tired; it's quite late.” You press your lips together, shifting from one foot to the other. Even though it is the middle of November, your face becomes increasingly hotter and hotter.

„If you want to, we can postpone this to another time.”

​„No no please not, it's fine, really. So, Professor, what exactly do you want to discuss?”

„Please have a seat.” You look around; the room is basically empty except for his old, heavy desk and the chair he currently rolled back with, patting his hand on his knee. „Come here, I won’t bite.”

It's not like you have a choice, so you walk over to him, eyes fixed on the floor. The corduroy fabric of his pants tingles the sensitive skin of your thighs. You press your own knees together, settling on the edge of his, but apparently he has other plans.

His big hand shoots to the side of your hip. „That doesn't seem comfortable. Here, let me help you.” With a dedicated pull, his upper body is flush to your back, and the chair rolls forward, the light pressure of the desk is almost grounding.

He reaches forward, holding up a piece of paper. „I want you to read the highlighted parts out loud. Think you can do that for me?”

That's it? He wants you to read aloud?

„He put his lips on her neck, placing a couple of kisses on the skin there.” You swallow hard, now that you hear it, it sounds even worse.

„Professor, I just want you to know, I’m not that experienced with stuff like that. Sure, I had some, but they weren’t that great.”

„That's what I’m here for, to teach you.” Suddenly, there are the ghosts of two of his fingers at the end of your hair. „Once more.”

„He put his lips on her neck,” you jolt in your spot as Professor Mears' lips tenderly graze over the soft skin behind your ear, whispering low and deep. „What did that make you feel?”

„I- I don’t know, good?” A hum is all he offers before repeating the movement, you jolt again while trying to keep focus.

„I feel goosebumps and a shiver in my neck?”

„Excellent, go on.” No, that, he is not going to guide you through all of it, right?

„Placing a couple, a couple of kisses on the skin there.” Your eyes flutter, and your body practically melts, his lips soft, as if they are covered in honey. „Are you feeling good again?” The smile and the huffed chuckle pull you out of it, back to reality. „Sir, I don’t think that is an appropriate way to, learn.”

„That is such a shame. You are my most excellent student, you don’t want me to let you fail this class, do you?”

„Of course not, Professor!”

„Then hold still and let me teach you properly, so that you will never forget feeling ever again.” You swallow hard, trapped like a mouse in a cage, but since you are already here, why not get the cheese? „Yes, sir.”

„Tell me what it made you feel?”

„It felt as if my body could finally let go, my mind shutting down for a second. Only the sensation present, nothing else.”

„Now I want you to put it all together. Think my smart girl can do that?”

„Yes, professor.” With a deep inhale, the words come together and turn into a scene you would never dare to show anyone outside of this room. With a feather-like tenderness, he brings his lips close to the sensitive skin of her neck. The brush, the slight breath sending a pleasant shiver through her body, her enjoyment revealed with a single movement of her hips. The kisses he then places, letting her body lose all of its restraint.“

„Mmh, there she is, next paragraph."

„His fingers coming up her upper legs, then to a stop on her waist.”

„A simple sentence that gets the job done, or does it?” Fast and lazy, his hands only slightly wander up your thighs, unsatisfying to say the least, his hold on your waist loose.

„I think you can do better than that. Want to give it a try?” Well, if you want to pass his class, you don’t have a choice. Your fingers clung to the paper in hopes it would steady you for what is about to come.

„The tips of his fingers glide up her inner thighs, gentle yet firm; he knows exactly what he is aiming for as they come to a tight hold around her waist.” You squeak in his hold, your legs trembling, Professor Mears not caring one bit. His body relaxed in a stark contrast to yours. One hand lets go of you, with the press of your lips, you are able to keep your mouth shut before a pathetic whine slips out.

He places some circles on the small of your back, soothing you. You really want to, but you can’t loosen up, you just can’t. „Sssh, just one more, okay? Just one more sentence because this one made me a little worried.”

„Worried?” Oooh, oh no. „Sir, I don’t want to be rude, but we really shouldn’t do this.”

„If I remember correctly, you don’t want to fail my class, right?” You nod, heart daring to jump out of its ribcage. “Then read for me, pretty girl.” You begin to pray that your voice won’t give out, no desire to have to repeat yourself.

„He presses her against the table, not wasting any time, his penis entering her in a fast, burning stretch.” The silence that follows is torture, maybe he lets you off the hook now.

„That sounds painful, the purpose of erotica is to make the reader feel good; nothing should be rushed, even though I won’t deny that some might find a liking to the rougher exploration."

„I understand, Sir.”

„I’m sure you do.” He squeezes your waist with so much force that you have to squirm, feeling it for the first time now. Underneath the barrier of your skirt and his pants he is... aroused, if not more than that, given the fact that you shuffle in his lap to find a comfortable position.

It happens by sheer accident that your movements drag a teethed moan out of his mouth, causing some bell to ring in your ear.

You can feel that something inside him shifts entirely, the grip intensifies. He rolls back, and next you find yourself with your chest pressed against his desk. All the air escapes your lungs, and you gasp. You want to prop yourself up on your hands, but he holds you down.

For a few heartbeats, nothing happens, you only hear his heavy breathing behind you. One hand is secured on your back, the other wandering down, all the way to the curve of your ass. The god damn skirt does not offer any cover.

He floods your senses as he bends over you, his body heat luring you into a dream of soft sheets and sunlight. All of that is gone when he whispers into your ear.

„I will be lecturing you on how this is done properly, and you will take it in, all of it, understood?”

At a loss for words, you shake your head frantically, not risking a look back that may tear you apart completely. He must have taken it upon himself to do that for you. “There is my good girl.” The smack stings for a second before it turns to pleasure. He is not letting you relish in it too long, his fingers finding the pink velvet lace panties you choose this afternoon.

„Seems like someone is as equally excited about our private lessons as me.” The amusement that accompanies his words sends a hot bolt of shame through you, your cheeks heating up to an extent that no makeup would be able to cover it. You decide to rest your face on the wood, granting you a short cool down.

„At least that means we can go to the fun part sooner.” Your hands press violently against the desk, not one but two of his thick fingers entering you from behind, the sound wet and slick.

„Oh god Professor, I can’t.” He has the decency to stop, actual concern in his tone. „It doesn’t hurt, or does it, pretty girl?”

„No Sir, but-”

„Good.” It's obscene and wrong still, you wouldn’t want to be anywhere else right now as he works you open with precise and long, dragged-out movements. When he retreats, the pathetic whine you could stop early fills the room, loud and clear. You can’t make out what he is doing behind you until a belt, his belt, comes into your view, followed by the pop of a button and the sharp sound of a zipper getting hauled open.

„Now we are finally coming to the most important part, pretty girl. Again, it's not supposed to hurt, get it?”

„Mmmh.” Your nails dig into the desk like it could save you, holding your breath as he pushes forward further and further, coaxing a deep moan out of you all the way through until he is bottomed out. His lips next to your ear again, biting down softly on your earlobe. „You feel absolutely incredible.”

Never have you felt so full with past partners none of them made you feel like this. Utterly and completely drunk on lust. Ultimately, your body lets loose, giving into the slow, sensual rhythm he sets. His hips thrusting evenly, his cock hitting so deep and you swear you see stars.

„How is my perfect student feeling, hmmm?”

„Please, Professor, don’t stop.”

„Like I could at this point. Do you have an idea how breathtaking you look?” Even though his pace is not faltering, impatience gets the best of you. With all the strength you can gather, you move backwards, meeting his hips, almost throwing him off balance.

As a response, his hand flies to the back of your head, pushing your face down as the other holds you still by the waist.

„No no no, this is my lesson for you, not the other way around. Your only task is to take it, remember?” Another slap hits your ass, not as intense as it could be.

„Yes Professor! I apologize.” Then you simply do as he told you. Paying attention to every little or big sensation he sends you through,, to every sound he gives you, and the responding ones bubbling out of your own mouth.

Just when you begin to think this might go on forever, to which you wouldn’t complain, you're on your back in a harsh twist, and the view that unfolds in front of you is something no words will be able to describe accurately. His hair is disheveled, nothing left of the prior well-groomed facade. There are tiny droplets of sweat clinging to his forehead. His pupils are blown to an extent that some could think he took drugs.

One of your legs swings to rest on his shoulder, and he leans forward; you think it's for a kiss, but instead the buttons of your blouse shatter to the ground. You don’t get the chance to think about pulling him down for a kiss, his hand grabs your jaw, and he chases your lips. He sends a violent grunt down your throat, and the kiss turns into panting.

His thumb ends up in your mouth, and you suck on it eagerly. When he places it on your clit it drags a guttural moan out of you from the deepest part of your core.

„Please tell me you are so smart to be on birth control, pleeease.” Your nails dig into the flesh of his exposed hips, leaving some scars as a souvenir. „I am, sir.”

Against all physics you know of, he increases his pace, hitting faster and deeper. Your toes curl, your back aches off the desk, and you see stars, or rather the whole night sky. „There she is. My smart. Pretty. Girl. Oh fuuuck.” You can feel him everywhere as he paints your inside white.

His body comes to a rest on yours trying to catch his breath, so do you until your eyes close shut and your mind drifts off into a blissful abyss.

-------------

You wake as a pillow hits you softly, you give a deep groan as a response. First, you notice the fabric of your PJs, probably the ones he gifted you last Christmas, matching his of course.

„Sorry baby but you have to wake up.”

The alarm clock on your nightstand says 1:21. „Beeeeen, what the hell is wrong with you?”

„Mr. Jackson called, Mark wants to get picked up.”  

Suddenly your body and brain remember how to function properly. You shoot up and regret it instantly. Your vision blurs into static for a second, causing you to fall back onto the bed.

Ben is on you immediately, one hand on your lower back. „Hey, easy. I said we have to pick him up, not go to war.”

As your eyes slowly adjust to the dim light of his bedside lamp, you see it. The frown, the sides of his mouth so far down as if he just found out someone had died. Fortunately, the simple gesture of your hands cupping his face is enough to let the wrinkles around his eyes disappear.

„It's okay. He is still a child, children want to get picked up from sleepovers all the time.”

„I know, it's just…” You tighten your hold, no chance for him to look anywhere other than straight into your eyes.​

„It is fine. We are going to pick him up, and then we can get a hot chocolate at Daisies, okay?”

He nods, a little spark in his eyes, surprising you with a kiss to the tip of your nose.

„Thought that hot chocolate would get your mood up. Thank you for getting me out of these clothes, by the way. Please remind me to buy a larger size next time.”

„Next time?”

„Oh yeah, next time we are doing editor and naughty author who can’t concentrate whenever she is in the room with him.” A light push with the tip of your index finger, and his back hits the mattress. “What did I do to deserve you?”

-------------

The boy you crushed over as a child on the swings while your mothers sipped coffee on the deck. The first boy you ever kissed with no knowledge of what kissing was or what it meant. In one of those letters, he brought it up.

Remember that time I kissed you when we were four?

You did, you do. He said it was what people who loved each other did, mommies and daddies. You were playing house, it made sense and, yes, you loved him. In the way that children understand love that is.

You understood this was a person in your life, you saw him all the time. For you, that made sense. He made sense and when he wasn’t there anymore, it didn’t make sense why you and your parents couldn’t go with him and his. Why they couldn’t stay.

And now he’s coming home. Three months after you started talking again. Three months after you walked into a dinner, a small party, thrown by your parents to welcome his back and found a grown up version of that very same boy from before.

He accompanied you to the store to get more wine and then out the door back out to those swings that were never taken down. Then in a walk around the neighborhood that turned into a drive around town that turned into talking on the phone and letters. 

When the letters started, you weren’t even a thing. Truthfully, really, you don’t even know if you’re a thing now. It was there on the tip of both of your tongues, the idea was present. The letter he sent asking if you remembered the kiss is the same one where he confessed that he’d been harboring a crush his whole life. He said it was easier to tell you that way because, if you didn’t feel the same, you didn’t have to answer and he could suffer the rejection on a delayed timeframe instead of hearing the click of the phone as you hung it up. 

The letter says today, which is not what he said on the phone last night. Today, at five, on a plane coming from San Diego. Except it’s six and you just read it and there’s no chance you can get to the airport and he’s not answering his phone. So all you can do is pace and check your make up over and over again attempting to have control over something. Sure, you could clean but you’ve already told him how messy you are and these are not cleaning nerves. 

Truthfully, these aren’t even nerves you’ve had since prom night with another guy you didn’t particularly like in the back of a car you didn’t particularly feel comfortable in.

Three knocks then and one more glance in the mirror checking for a run in black tights, a stain on the white sweater or a rip in the skirt. Maybe smudged lipstick. Just anything to prolong answering the door if it can get these nerves down.

Because this is Bob, the one who makes sense. The one who, really, has always made sense. These nerves shouldn’t be here, there’s nothing about him to be nervous over.

Except you haven’t kissed him since you were four and the letter he sent said he couldn’t wait to do just that, that he felt like there was so much lost time to make up for.

Another knock and then the phone rings, both of them him.

Him, at the door, the lip pulled between his teeth quickly released as he drops the hand holding the phone up to his ear. “I'm sorry I didn’t come sooner, I needed to”—he swallows—“grow a pair.”

“Grow a pair?”

He shrugs, shoulder dropping just as fast as it was raised. “Couldn’t figure out if I should bring you flowers or be prepared to finally get that rejection.”

“So where are the flowers?”

He looks down at his hands and then back up, light catching his glasses and then his crooked smile. “None of them were good enough for you.”

“I’m not going to reject you,” you tell him, leaning against the door. “And I think that anything you brought me would’ve been good enough.”

“Well, I brought myself. How’s that?” His eyes squint a little on that, flicking up and down your body and not for the first time since you opened the door.

Which makes you realize that you’re still just standing there.

And it’s cold.

And he’s pretty.

And he’s looking at you like he wants to devour you; like he’s had this low simmering hunger growing in his belly for God knows how long. “Do you want to come in?”

“You didn’t answer me.”

“You're perfect,” you tell him, stepping aside to give room for his body to come through the door. “How was your flight? Have you eaten? Do you want—“ 

It didn’t really hit, at the dinner, how tall he was. You were just so excited to see him and to know that he was excited to see you, his height didn’t even register but he’s big. Big and leaning over you with his lips pressed softly against yours.

“I’m sorry, I should’ve asked,” he whispers when he pulls away. “I just needed to do it because I would’ve been too nervous otherwise.”

Everything feels almost on fire with how close he is, the heat in the house suddenly becoming too much. You wish he’d done that in the open door instead of waiting for it to close.

“I only just got your letter today,” you tell him, ignoring his nerves in some kind of ploy to ignore your own. “I didn’t have time to clean or shop, I don’t have anything to cook for you.”

That makes him laugh, lips stretching across your cheek to let the noise tumble out against you. “Gorgeous girl, let me take you out to dinner the way I’ve been imagining I’d get to all this time.” 

“You want to take me out?” Thank god you read the letter before you washed your face.

“Want to do a lot more than take you out to dinner.” He looks like he wants you to be his dinner. “But I’m trying to behave myself, I already know I’m coming off really strong.”

He’s not coming off strong at all, you’re just not really comprehending it. Not when he holds your hands so gently.

Not in the car, where he insists he’ll drive.

Not when he’s staring at you across the table.

It just makes sense and it’s fine. It’s good, actually. It’s comforting to sit beside him, his eyes roaming every inch that he can, and know that you don’t have to spill all your secrets because all the talking and the catching up you did all these months, through phone lines and fancy stationery, took care of that for you.

But it’s also still nerve shaking, the way he looks at you with so much reverence. It’s a respect that’s enduring even back inside your apartment, where he’s dropped his bags with an apology that he didn’t mean to be presumptuous but he also didn’t want to be caught with his dick in his hands, completely unprepared, if it turned out it wasn’t presumptuous at all.

“This is weird,” you finally tell him, pulling as far back as you can from where he’s pinning you to the mattress.

“Too strong?” He’s set his glasses to the side, on the table by your bed next to your book and the letters. You’ve been beneath him for the better part of an hour, kissing like teenagers in the back of a car.

Your head shakes. “I’ve just never slept with a guy on the first date.”

Bob’s chest is heaving, smooth skin stretched over lean muscle and he runs a hand through his hair (which really shouldn’t be as sexy as it is but—holy shit) and smiles. “We don’t have to do anything.”

“I want to.”

“Are you sure?” 

He said once, in one of the letters, how people look at him and assume things about him. He looks scrawny in his uniform, geeky in his glasses; he’s got a consistent haircut and a baby face that always makes him look like it’s school picture day.

To everybody else, Bob is green—inexperienced.

And he uses that to his advantage with his quiet demeanor and his big hands and his capability.

Robert Floyd is very capable at what he’s doing as he unhooks the bra stretched tight across your back.

“You have a lot of sex, do you?” You ask, pulling away from him again. 

His face is red, a blush that splashes out in random patterns across his face and chest, and he shrugs. “I’ve had my fair share,” he says, “the uniform does a majority of the work.”

“You're doing a lot of work right now.”

That makes a smile spread across his face. “A beautiful woman like you, everybody would be a fool not to put in work for you.”

“That's very sweet of you, Bob.” All that confidence you felt in the phone calls and the letters has long faded to make room for the heat running up your own cheeks. “Nobody’s ever really worked for me.” 

His smile falters. “Is that self deprecating, sweetheart?” He doesn’t like the self deprecating, he hasn’t liked learning all the ways you pulled in on yourself over the years.

The look he gives you is a weight in the pit of your stomach, warm and blooming but also cold like steel. You can feel yourself pulling in on yourself and away from him the way you’ve feared you would. “Just a fact,” you tell him, trying to shrug it off the way you’re trying to shrug beneath his hold. “It’s been a while for me, I don’t really…” Your head shakes. “I haven’t been with anybody since college.” 

“Really?” How anybody could suggest the man pulling away to sit up completely is inexperienced is beyond you. “I mean, if that’s what you wanted.”

It was but it isn’t like you didn’t have the chance. Which is what you tell him but what turned you off is how people reacted to it—just like him now. Separating himself with assurances that it’s okay. Of course it’s okay but it doesn’t make you less than or untouchable. 

“You act like my grown back virginity is contagious, Bob.” 

He huffs a laugh. “You can’t grow it back and, besides, it can’t have been that long ago. College was not that long ago.” 

As subtly as you can, you attempt to put your bra back into place while reminding him you’re both closer to thirty than not. “It’s been quite a few years.”

“Not even one?” 

Briefly, you consider asking him to go, to pick up his bags and come back tomorrow after you’ve both slept and showered. Instead, you say, “I lost my mind once or… you know, that’s what I call it. I downloaded one of those apps and swiped until something stuck.”

“Until something stuck?” He asks. He’s asking a lot, you’ve asked practically nothing. “What does that mean?”

“It means that”—you’ve given up on the bra, pulling it off and through your sleeve instead—“I swiped until I found a guy who looked kind of like the pictures my mom showed me from your mom’s Facebook and I…thought of you.”

His eyes don’t even follow the bra as you toss it to the side, breathing deep beneath his gaze as he puts it together with crimson brushing all the way up to the tips of his ears. 

A beat.

Maybe two.

He’s still staring you down but not saying much else and that weight drops again, like a strong man game at the carnival. It went up with the hit to ring the bell in the middle of your chest before it slammed back to start with the same force you gave it. “Say something, Bobby.” 

“I-uh—“ He clears his throat and runs his thumb along his bottom lip before taking a deep breath. “I visited once just to see if I’d maybe run into you and, you know, I did… kinda. You were with some guy and I”—he clears his throat again—“may or may not have jerked off so hard my dick hurt for two weeks straight about it.” 

Oh.

“What did the guy look like?”

“Well”—he leans forward, voice dropped low—“he kinda looked like me.” 

It’s amazing how black his eyes can be when it looks like he’s got a trick or five up his sleeve. Only he’s shirtless and doesn’t leave you waiting for long, body launching across the distance between you to push you over and down again.

And it’s not quite like a weight in your belly now so much as a weight on your belly, heat radiating through his rough palms as they sneak higher and higher up your torso. 

“I'm kind of scared to have sex with you,” he whispers against your lips, answering the question before you can even why, saying, “I'm afraid I won’t live up to your fantasies.”

“I'm afraid I won’t live up to yours.”

It’s not even a sentence he fully lets you finish, lips dragging across your jaw and hips pushing down against yours and the bunched up skirt. Bob Floyd is so not inexperienced.

He’s just subtle and private, even going so far as to close the bedroom door despite the fact that you live alone. This unassuming, private, quiet man who closes doors and says please and thank you as he’s asking for your shirt to go and pulling your tights down and off.

No bra, no shirts and no glances down your body because that would mean taking his lips off of you. But when he does dip low next to your ear to ask if he can look at you, it’s the easiest yes of your life. 

It’s not nervous, you don’t want to cover yourself back up. It feels as good to be looked at him as it feels to have him on you. And, again, you have no idea how anybody could ever see this man as inexperienced or—what did he say?—Baby on Board is so beyond you.

“You're still really dressed,” you tell him, poking the belt buckle that looks close to snapping with the tip of your big toe. “You should take this off.” 

His eyes fall to the space between your legs again and he smiles. “You're still wearing your skirt.” And the panties he didn’t take with the tights. “If we’re being completely fair here.”

“This is weird,” you say for the second time tonight. “We used to play in sandboxes together and now—“

“Now I’m trying to make good on my promise that kissing is what people who love each other do, sweetheart,” he says, hooking his fingers into the elastic waistband, “so ladies first on this one.”

Ladies first, another thing to add to all his manners. All his manners and the dirtiest mouth. Because you can hand it to his colleagues on one front—he does not look like a man who knows the word cunt and he certainly doesn’t look like he’s ever used it.

And it’s working but it’s not enough to combat the nerves. Especially when he lifts himself up enough again to undo his belt, it’s like your whole body tightens up again.

“We don’t have to, “ he says for what feels like the seventeenth time. “We can just snuggle”—he laughs and shrugs—“or I could fuck off.”

“I don’t want you to fuck off,” you tell him. “I very much would not be naked if I did.” 

Not even an hour ago, he was saying he didn’t want to be caught with his dick in his hands and now that’s exactly where it is. Dick in his hands, smile on his face. He’s beautiful.

“Can you even see me right now?” You ask him, grasping for something to cover the nerves.

He affirms that he can as he pushes himself back down against you, mouthing opening against yours and every muscle in your body tensing up beneath him. It’s some combination of nerves for how much you like him and nerves over how long it’s been.

It always hurt before and you know it’s not supposed to but it hurts now, too. He hurts but you tell him it doesn’t after you try your best for some air in the space between your bodies—your lips. It’ll get better, you promise him that it will and that you’re just nervous every time. 

Really, it should. It does. Performance anxiety or not, it’s easy to relax around his presence and his gentle hands and the soft press of his lips as he gives into the way you grab at him.

Grasp at him, pull at him.

All of him and any little bit of him. There’s so much time and so many feelings to make up for. So many songs he could’ve broken your heart to already every time he had to say goodbye. 

“What are these?” He asks, the drag of his knuckles against the heat of your face. “Am I hurting you?”

“No.”

“Baby.” All his worry in one word as he pulls away and out to sit up and pull you with him. 

“Am I bleeding?” You ask, afraid to look down but aware of what every other experience has held thus far and exactly what the partner at the time sounded like when they pointed it out.

It makes you want to run when he looks down and nods. “I did hurt you.”

Your head shakes and he pulls you even closer, large hands grabbing to hold on as you’re shaking and cold until you’re close enough for just little whispered words. So quiet and warm as he tells you over and over again that it’s okay.

Of course it is, it’s Bob. The one who makes sense—who’s always made sense.

You tell him it happens sometimes—it happens every time—but that doesn’t seem to calm the guilt he’s feeling. 

“You want me to kiss it better?” He asks, voice somehow even lower like you’re not the only two people in the apartment. 

“I don’t want to.”

Bob brushes his fingertips along the swell of your cheek and asks, “do you really not want to or are you afraid that I’m afraid of a little blood?”

“Both,” you tell him, fairly certain the smile across your face is the reason he even asked that question to begin with. “It was a long day before I got your letter, I think that maybe I-I need sleep and”—you laugh—“maybe a fucking muscle relaxer or a Xanax. I hate to think I’ve made you feel unattractive o-or not good.”

“You didn’t,” he confirms and his hair is so messy with how many times you’ve run your fingers through it. “I could’ve been slower—“

“It wasn’t fast.”

“Still,” he says before offering to change the sheets. “Tell me where they are and you can go shower, I’ll join you in there.”

Parting leaves you pacing again, back and forth in the bathroom. Only, this time, you’re naked and ignoring the ache between your legs as you wash the make up off instead of fixing what was there over and over again.

In the reflection, you watch as he strips the bed. It may have been years but so many nights have ended like this but only for you. And it was usually tear soaked and lonely as you stripped the bed yourself and made it back up again. 

Now, though, he’s here. He’s stayed here instead of leaving, whether by your own insistence or his—he didn’t leave.

His smile is the kind you could get used to, the comfort he has in this space around you already to be naked and open. This comes from all those letters and long, sleepless nights on your of the line, yeah. But it also comes from the childhood you spent together and the years that you didn’t.

In the shower, you pull him down and to your lips before he can even think about leaning over. The first one to kiss him this time, void of all nerves you’ve carried for hours up to just minutes ago.

“It’s just for today, Rhett.” Rhett huffed and rolled his eyes for a moment. Rhett got to his feet, grabbing his ball cap and placing it on his head. Why couldn’t she just go pick her up? She was the one who enrolled Amy in the program anyways. Amy was a smart young girl, she made him proud to call her family. Sometimes he wondered how such a smart person had come out of their family. It wasn't that they weren't smart, just not necessarily book smart. Perry had been the only one who went to college, making Rhett hope Amy would eventually follow Perry's footsteps.

After Rhett muttered an agreement, he grabbed his keys and headed out to his truck. The ride into town wasn't too bad, hot like any other summer day. The heat like this reminded Rhett of his youth, days when he was much more concerned about looking cool than reading a book. A chuckle or two would come out when he thought about it by himself, remembering how much of a prick he used to be. He never spent much time in the library growing up, it was never something that interested him. It tended to just remind him of how much he had hated school.

Rhett pulled into the parking lot of the library, killing his engine with a twist of his keys. He waited for a moment before checking his phone.

pick up is inside the library - mom

Rhett rolled his eyes once more, exiting the vehicle and heading up to the doors. Sometimes he wondered how Wabang was able to have such a nice library. Afford one that wasn't falling apart. Rhett made his way in, finding his way up to the main desk. A middle aged woman greeted him, answering his question and pointing him in the right direction. Rhett walked past a few different areas before coming up on a slightly open space. Couches and tables with chairs littered the area with about fifteen kids sitting at them. Some kids were talking amongst themselves, while only a select few were actually reading.

"Can I help you?" A soft and oddly familiar voice interrupted his sight seeing. Rhett was surprised when he turned, seeing you looking at him. It had been years since he'd seen you, high school in all honesty. He hadn't even heard that you were back in town. He didn't remember you ever looking this cute.

"I.. I'm.." You smiled at him, watching as he tumbled over his words. He closed his mouth, jaw clenching as embarrassment plagued him.

"Well, hello to you too, Rhett. I'm assuming you're here for Amy?" Rhett nodded. Why couldn't he just fucking talk?

"When did you get here?" Rhett asked bluntly. One of your eyebrows raised, a little confused by the question.

"Do you mean when I showed up behind you? Or when did I come back to Wabang?"

"The second one." Finally, his words were working again. Rhett looked you up and down for a moment, taking in your brown overalls and white long sleeve shirt. You were holding onto a few children's books, a small silver necklace hanging around your neck.

"Earlier this year, got this job shortly after. I've been flying under the radar. Under your radar." It wasn't a secret that the two of you had a history. Throughout high school the two of you pined over one another, that was until Maria came along. It hurt a little at first, knowing that you weren't Rhett's first choice, but you also knew that his hormones were too high at the time. By junior year the two of you had moved on, only making small talk when needed during class or at school events.

Your family had always been singled out as the "weird" family in Wabang. It was mainly because your family didn't ranch. They didn't do anything relatively "normal" for the culture in Wabang, aside from taking you and your siblings to the rodeo every now and then. It had never bothered you, and sometimes Rhett wondered if that was why he had a crush. You were different, but not too far off. Always had your nose stuck in a book instead of trying to get fucked after the Friday night football game.

Rhett let out an amused noise at your confession.

"That so?" Rhett smiled at you, the curve gathering to one side of his mouth.

"No, it's not. Just pushing your buttons." There it was, that odd quirkiness that seemed to pull Rhett in so long ago. He watched you give him a wink before you walked over to Amy. She was sitting at a table alone, reading a book. His heart warmed as he watched you tap Amy's shoulder for her attention. You leaned over and whispered that Rhett was here to pick her up. Amy immediately lit up, excited that her uncle was the one retrieving her.

Amy quickly gathered up all of her things, shoving her book into her backpack before you walked her over to Rhett. "I didn't know you were getting me today." Amy said with a bit of excitement. Rhett smiled at her words.

"Neither did I." Amy giggled quietly as she started to head towards the front of the library. Rhett nodded his head at you, a soft smile still plastered on his lips.

"I'll see you around."

"Yeah, see you around cowboy."

-

-

Rhett couldn’t believe that he volunteered to pick Amy up. Again. Rhett was finding him picking her up from her reading program more often than he wanted to admit. It had been two full weeks into June, meaning the program was one third of the way done. Cecilia informed him after the first day that it was a six week program. Six lucky weeks that Amy got to spend with you.

Rhett didn’t want to admit that he was going to see you. But he knew deep down that was the main reason. Seeing you for not even a full five minutes was slowly becoming the highlight of his days. Amy and Cecilia also started to notice his happy demeanor after picking her up.

“What’s got you so uppity?” Cecilia asked when they walked through the door. A devilish smirk appeared on Amy’s face. She set her backpack down near the table. Rhett rolled his eyes at the both of them, setting his keys on the table.

“Uncle Rhett likes the librarian.” Rhett narrowed his eyes at her, a look of disbelief on his face. Amy giggled as she watched Rhett shake his head at her and held his finger up to his lips. It was supposed to be their secret, one they didn’t speak about. Cecilia turned around with a smirk on her face.

“It ain’t Mrs. Benson, is it?” Cecilia joked with Amy. Rhett gave her a simple ‘what the fuck’ face, listening to Amy giggle some more.

“No, Grandma! Mrs. Benson’s too old for Uncle Rhett. It’s Miss Y/LN.” Cecilia raised an eyebrow, acting surprised. It wasn’t like she had forgotten who you were, or who your family was. She remembered Rhett talking about you a little bit in high school, and how you would volunteer at the local old folks home. Cecilia had always known you were a kind soul, something she knew that might work out Rhett's rough edges. Amy trotted off to the stairs, running up the steps quickly to go search her room for something.

“Rhett..” He gave her a curious look, not exactly able to pinpoint the tone in her voice. Cecilia threw her dish towel up over her shoulder, leaning back against the kitchen counter.

“What ‘ma?” Rhett didn’t like her silence. He slowly started to recognize the situation more than the tone of her voice.

“That’s Amy’s teacher right now. You can’t be messing anyth-”

“I ain’t messing anything up, ‘ma. Besides.. She’d be too smart for me anyways.” Rhett smiled while he thought about you. It had been a long time since someone made him feel like this. Feel more than just the urge to fuck. It was an urge to meet you, learn everything about you, the ins and outs of your very essence.

“Well someone has to be smart enough to look out for you. Lord knows me and Perry can’t do it forever.” Rhett’s gaze flicked up at her from that table, a glint in his look. He hated to admit it was the truth. He wasn’t rushing to settle down anytime soon, but he sure did yearn for it from time to time. And one of those times happened to be now.

Which is what led him to now. Sitting in the parking lot of the library, twenty minutes before he was supposed to arrive. His foot was tapping on the floor near the gas pedal, his nerves finally starting to get to him. After the conversation with Cecilia, he planned to ask you out. But now it was one week later, three full weeks into the summer program. He looked up at the ceiling of his truck, pulling the brim of his hat down to cover his eyes. “Fuck.”

Rhett moved out of his truck, finally deciding that this was it. It was now or never. He tipped his hat to Mrs. Benson who gave him a small smile. “You’re early, Rhett.” He nodded his head to her, walking up to the front desk.

“I know Mrs. Benson, I was hoping to talk with Miss Y/LN. I don’t want to interrupt the kids though.” Rhett whispered to her with a smile. It was a partial truth, he didn’t want to interrupt them. He also didn’t want them to see him ask out their summer learning teacher. Mrs. Benson gave him a knowing look. Was it actually that obvious?

“She’s in the back room. There will be a door all the way down the third aisle of the non-fiction area. Just over there.” Mrs. Benson pointed in a direction near where the kids would be, but not that exact spot. Rhett tipped his hat and gave her a nod with a thank you. He headed off to find you, making sure he didn’t get lost somewhere in the library. Perry would never let him live that down.

Rhett peaked around the corner of what he thought was the third aisle. He was rewarded by seeing an open door at the end of it. He made his way down the aisle, knocking on the wooden door frame when he got to the doorway. He poked his head in, looking around in the old store room. It wasn’t very big, but sizable. There were three aisles within the room, made by many bookshelves that housed old, unused, and extra copies of books.

“Come in!” He recognized your voice immediately. There was a small rustling noise that came from the third aisle, letting him know where to find you. After a few steps into the room he peered around, finding you on your tip-toes trying to grab a book from above.

“Need any help?” Rhett asked, hoping you would entertain his offer. He took in your outfit, a knee length maroon skirt with a neatly tucked in beige button down. A pair of slip-on black Toms covered your feet, which you rolled back onto after not reaching the book. You looked down the aisle at him, surprised to see him, a small smile covered your lips.

“Some help would be much appreciated. Normally,” he made his way down the aisle, “there is a stool. But it is MIA today apparently.” Rhett nodded with a smile, reaching for the book you pointed at. You checked your watch, seeing there was another fifteen minutes before pick up. “Pretty early today, Rhett.”

“Yeah,” he handed the book to you and watched you flip the pages, “I wanted to talk to you.”

“Oh, that so?” You looked at him, his warm oases staring down to meet your own eyes.

“Yeah, it is.” You moved back, leaning against the wall behind you. Rhett moved to stand in front of you, your hands clutching the book to your chest. Your heart fluttered, this exact situation being something you had dreamed about since meeting him. You could tell something was different, he was a little different. It wasn’t just the awkward small talk the two of you had while he picked Amy up.

“Well, go on.” Rhett bit his bottom lip for a moment, thinking about the right way to ask you. He had been over it multiple times prior, but now his mind was failing him.

“Would you like to go out? Like to dinner or something.” Rhett ran his tongue over his bottom lip, pulling your gaze away from his. You watched as the slick muscle glided over the dry skin, wetting it thoroughly. Rhett took notice and moved a little bit closer to you. Your cheeks filled with a warmth when you noticed how close he was, only a few inches away.

“I-I would like that, Rhett.” He never thought he would be able to get someone as articulate as you, to stumble over her words. You looked away for a brief moment, turning your head to look down the hallway. Rhett brought a finger up to your cheek, gently pulling your face back to face him. A soft smile matched his soft gaze. He tipped his hat up, leaning closer to you.

When his lips pressed against your it was like fireworks went off. It was gentle, a gentleness you were surprised Rhett had inside of him. One of his hands moved to your waist, just resting, while the other cupped your jaw and cheek. Three weeks of small talk and ruminating on memories had finally come to a precipice. The kiss wasn’t anything crazy, maybe the beginnings of what could have been an intense makeout. Rhett pulled back, the hand on your waist moved to adjust his hat a little bit. His thumb was rubbing your cheek, making your heart flutter.

“When do you want me to pick you up?”

-

-

“There ain’t no way.”

“No, I’m being serious!” The two of you had moved to the Handsome Gambler after diner, deciding to get a few drinks.

“How am I supposed to believe that little ol’ you stole a traffic cone?” Rhett could barely picture it in his brain. University years you drunkenly toting home a traffic cone. Not to mention the fact you were apparently living in the dorms at the time.

“I was different then, more wild.” You sipped at your cider while watching him. That dopey smile appeared again, making your heart flutter. It was true that your years at university were a bit more wild. Experiencing everything that wasn’t little ol’ Wabang was exciting at the time. You tried to experience as much as you could while at university. Partying, drinking, smoking, fucking, etc. It was all new and something you needed to try, at least once.

“I just,” Rhett leaned across the table a little bit as his voice lowered, “can’t really picture it.” You cocked your head to the side, giving him a questioning look.

“Picture what, Mr. Abbott?” Rhett felt a heat rise to his cheeks at your words. Mr. Abbott had always been a title reserved for his father, but he couldn't ignore what it stirred up in him. He leaned back into the booth seat, his hand holding his beer firmly on the table.

"Picture you out partying and what not. I'm just used to you being a little bookmouse." Rhett was mentally kicking himself in the ass. Bookmouse? What the hell was that?

"A bookmouse?" Rhett flushed even more, trying to hide his embarrassment.

"Yeah," Rhett thumbed the rim of his glass bottle, "cause you liked books and were quiet." Another flutter. You couldn't help but smile at Rhett's cuteness. The way he was talking, both awkwardly and confidently, made you giggle.

"Well, this bookmouse did a lot more than just read books at university." You winked at him. Rhett's mind swirled with possibilities of what you meant. He shifted in his seat, adjusting himself in his pants. "Maybe I'll show you some day."

Rhett raised an eyebrow at your proposition. Fuck, he liked the sound of that. He leaned over the table one more time, "How's about we get out of here?" Eyes flicking towards the door.

"I'd love to but," Rhett's eyebrows knitted together, "I gotta get stuff ready for the kids tomorrow." Rhett had almost forgotten that it was the middle of the week. He actually had forgotten until you grounded him. Rhett nodded, jaw clenching in a casual way. He wasn’t annoyed at you, more or less annoyed with the situation. Rhett loved that you enjoyed helping the kids with reading, making sure they grew up smart. Just like you.

“How’s about,” you mocked with a glint in your eye, “you take me home, cowboy?” Rhett smirked at your request, watching you finish off your bottle of cider. He nodded and finished off his own drink. He climbed out of the booth and offered his hand out to you. You gladly took it, lacing your arm around his.

The walk to his truck was full of giggles, your feet not wanting to keep you balanced. It had been awhile since you decided to drink, mainly leaving it back in your university days. Rhett was there for every stumble though, a smile plastered on his face while he caught you. When the two of you got to his truck you leaned near the rear fender, staring at him. A soft giggle came out of you, earning you a cute questioning face from Rhett.

“Hmm?” Rhett crept closer to you, his hands grabbing the top of the truck's bed. Rhett had effectively caged you between him and his truck. “What’s got you gigglin’ like that?” Rhett leaned towards you, bringing a hand up to tip up the brim of his hat. Rhett was only a few inches away from your face. Rhett couldn’t get enough of this, seeing you nearly pinned underneath him.

“You’re cute.” Rhett could smell a hint of cider on your breath, lacing your words while you talked. “I want you to come home with me.”

“You’re pretty cute yourself.” Rhett tilted his head so his lips were near your ear, “And that could be arranged.” Rhett’s hand traveled down to your waist. You squinted at him, remembering your words from earlier.

“We can’t do anything tho-” The hand that was on the truck came to your cheek as his lips covered yours. It was another gentle kiss, just like the one earlier in the back room. Your hands rested against his chest while his lips worked over yours.

“We don’t have to.” Rhett didn’t want to pressure you into anything. He wanted this to work out. He yearned for it to work out. “I’ll help you get stuff ready for the kids, promise.” Rhett pressed a small kiss to your cheek before removing himself from you. He stepped towards the passenger side door, opening it and gesturing for you to climb in. “Hop on in.”

The ride back to your little house was quick, not too far out of town. You always deemed yourself lucky by getting somewhere this close in town, not out in the middle of nowhere. Rhett’s hand sat planted on your thigh, thumb rubbing small circles during the ride. Rhett made sure to get the door for you, offering his hand to stabilize you when you stepped out of his truck. A smile spread across his face when he saw the inside of your place. Art adorned the walls while the shelves of your bookcases were packed full. It was messy but neat, something Rhett always found captivating about you.

“Whatcha think?” You toed your shoes off while you looked at him, balancing yourself against the wall. Rhett took off his own boots then followed you into the kitchen.

“It’s you.” Rhett couldn’t think of any other way your house would be. It felt homey. It felt like you. You grabbed out two glasses from the cabinet, filling them up with water from the sink. You offered him one, which he reluctantly accepted. Water wasn’t his favorite type of drink, but it would do for now. Rhett placed his hat on your kitchen table, sitting down while you sat across from him.

For the rest of the night the two of you joked while getting around your items for the program. Rhett questioned your choices of coloring pages, while you pressured him to drink more water to sober up. A warmth had spread all over him, knowing this is the spot he wanted to be. He wanted to be here helping you get wax paper ready for sun catchers, and laughing about the embarrassing old things the two of you had done.

“Sleep is finally catching up with me.” You checked your phone briefly, seeing how late it was. Rhett hadn’t realized how late it actually was. A part of him was surprised that you were even up this late. He thought you might be the type that went to bed at 10pm almost every night.

“It’s about time I left then.” Rhett didn’t want to leave, he wished he could stay forever. He reached for his hat, fingers barely touching it when he spoke up.

“Or you could stay.” Your eyes met his, watching as his tongue wetted his bottom lip. Rhett tugged his bottom lip between his teeth. The proposition was too tempting.

“Would that be okay?” His cerulean eyes never left yours. After a moment you averted your eyes and nodded. The two of you placed your cups in the sink before making your way back to your bedroom. A nervousness was settling inside of you, a part of you worried that things would get out of hand. Rhett noticed this and placed his hands on your shoulders, pulling you in so his chest was pressed against your back. “It’ll be okay, we won’t do anything you don’t want to.”

Rhett wouldn’t admit it, but he was also nervous. Nervous to finally have you in this manner, something so domestic. It was scary, opening himself up to someone. It was more terrifying than riding a thousand pound bull. The thrill was much different though. “I don’t have any pants for you to sleep in.” Rhett nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck.

“I’ll wear my underwear, if that’s fine.” You reassured him that that was okay before moving out of his grasp. You dug into your own dresser, finding your own sleep shorts and then an old t-shirt. You excused yourself to the bathroom, taking your clothes to change into. You hadn’t expected your nerves to ramp up.

After you brushed your teeth and changed you made your way back to your bedroom. Rhett sat on the edge of his bed, typing out something on his phone. He had shucked off his pants and flannel while you were gone, sitting in his grey boxer briefs and white t-shirt. A flutter stirred inside your chest, making your nerves jump up again. Rhett set his phone on the side table before noticing you were back.

“Oh, hey.” A small smile covered his lips when he saw you. God, you were so fucking beautiful. He took in your messy hair and old Wabang High t-shirt, one that he probably also had laying around somewhere.

“There is a spare toothbrush in the bathroom cabinet.” Rhett nodded before standing up. He stopped next to you, bringing a hand up to your cheek. A small kiss was placed on your forehead. Rhett’s thumb rubbed softly against your cheek until he left for the bathroom. You climbed into bed, a loving smile on your face.

Many thoughts swirled around in your head but one specifically stood out. He is the one you would want to do this with every night. He is the one you wanted to be domestic with. The one you didn’t want to screw up with. Rhett was the one.

-

-

The sound of your alarm woke you up first. You quickly turned it off, not wanting the blaring noise to continue any longer. When you laid back down a firm arm wrapped around your midsection. It reminded you that there was someone else inside of your bed. Rhett Abbott. He was pulling you back into his toned chest.

Heat radiated from his chest to your back, igniting a flame inside of you. This is everything you ever wanted. The man you had always wanted curled up behind you, keeping you close to him. If it wasn’t for having to work you would lay here all day with him. Rolling around in the sheets, the both of you treating each other to all the pleasures you had to offer. But alas, the library was calling. You went to sit up, the firm arm not releasing you.

“Don’t.” His voice was gruff, soaked in sleep still. When you looked at him he kept his face pressed into your shoulder blade, rutting his hips into your ass lightly. The heat in your chest moved up to your cheeks, his erect cock pressing into the flesh of your ass. A small part of you loved that he wasn’t even trying to hide it. Hide the effect you had on him, especially so early in the morning.

“Rhett, I have to.” Rhett nuzzled into you, pressing his hips harder into your ass. Rhett was really trying to get you to stay, tempting you with something you both wanted. You didn’t have intentions of giving in fully, but what would be the harm and giving him something to remember?

Rhett’s hand gripped on your hip, you rolling your ass back onto his cock. A groan emanated out of him. “Fuck.” You pulled back from him and rolled over to face him. Rhett moved onto his back as you shifted to hover over him slightly. Your hand snaked under the blanket, palming his dick under the covers. Rhett let out a few more groans and profanities, eventually pushing the blanket down to his mid thigh.

Rhett’s breath was a touch shaky as you dipped your hand below the elastic band. His hips bucked slightly when you fully grasped his cock. Rhett groaned at the contact of your soft hand on his cock. “Fuck, darlin’.” His head fell back into the pillows as you watched him, feeling his cock pulse under your touch. Rhett’s hands drifted to push his boxer briefs down, letting you get a full view of everything. Rhett looked back up at you, oases warm and inviting as ever.

You connected your lips with his, consuming his groans while you continued to stroke his cock. His hips bucked every now and then, trying to get more friction. When you pulled back from the kiss, you moved your mouth down over his cock in your hand. After stopping your strokes you locked eyes with Rhett, letting a large glob of spit fall off your tongue to his cock in your hand. Rhett groaned as you resumed your strokes, a new slick feeling to your hand. You ran your thumb over his head every now and then, collecting his precum to mix with your spit.

“So dirty.” It was all Rhett could say as his hand gripped the back of your neck, pulling you up to him. He smashed his lips into yours, tongue forcing its way into your mouth. You never thought Rhett could get this needy, but god did you love it. Rhett’s cock started to twitch more often in your hand, signaling his orgasm was approaching. You pressed your forehead to his when you pulled back from the kiss. Then as faint as a whisper you heard him speak. “Please.”

“Give it to me Rhett, let go.” Rhett’s free hand moved to push up his t-shirt, showing off his flexing abdomen. Without another second Rhett was spilling his cum on your hand and his stomach. A ragged ‘fuck’ fell from his lips, with whimpers mixed with groans following. You stroked him through his orgasm, his hips stuttering and bucking with every stroke. Rhett couldn’t remember the last time a hand job made him feel this good.

Rhett laid there, blissed out on the bed. Rhett could barely focus on the world around him, only focusing on the amazing hand job he just had. He was pulled back from his thoughts when he felt a warm wet washcloth drag over his stomach, He groaned softly when you wiped off his cock, cleaning off all potential left over cum.

Rhett smiled as he watched you toss the washcloth into the hamper, moving back over to him on the bed. “That enough to hold you over?” Rhett pulled his boxer briefs back up around his waist. He leaned up and kissed you, one of his hands cupping your cheek.

“More than enough.”

-

-

For the next three weeks Rhett made it a point to show up for pick up early. He would seek you down in the library, not caring if you were with the kids or not. If you were with the kids he would patiently wait, scanning whatever bookshelves were closest. That’s where you caught him today.

“Gonna start reading anytime soon?” Rhett looked up from the shelf to see you. You were wearing a pair of mom jeans today, something you corrected him on a few weeks ago. The baggy sweater you wore complimented them. Rhett put on a little bit of an embarrassed smile as you crept a bit closer. He took his cowboy hat, leaning in a bit closer to you. He was only a few inches away from you now.

He couldn’t help but stare at you. How did he manage to actually capture your attention? Someone this ethereal giving him the time of day seemed like a dream. Your eyes flicked from his cerulean eyes to his lips. Rhett brought his hat up to the side of your faces, shielding anyone from seeing the two of you. It felt like the heat of the library had been turned up a few degrees.

Just as he was about to kiss you, you put your hand up to his chest. Rhett stopped immediately, not wanting to push too far. It wasn’t that he was worried about you not wanting him. You definitely wanted him, or at least that’s what he picked up on from late night texts and pictures you had sent him. “Hmm?”

“I don’t want any of the kids to see.” Rhett smiled. That was one thing he had learned to love about you within the few weeks. Even though they tended to be too much sometimes, you always thought of your summer program kids first.

“You’re right,” Rhett took a step back from you, “wouldn’t want them to get any ideas.” He placed his hat back on his head.

The two of you slowly made your way over to the work area for the kids. They were reading, as usual. You had told Rhett that this was the best way to get the kids to calm down before handing them back to their parents. Amy had always been a relatively calm kid, so he couldn’t imagine what she’d be like riled up.

“End of the week?” Rhett was counting down the days. Waiting for the end of the program to finally show up. Waiting for the night he could take you out, show you how much he cared about you. Rhett ashamedly couldn’t wait to bed you either. His own hand was starting to get boring, the only thing spicing it up was the half naked photos you sent him accompanied by texts about what you’d like to do with him. His brain clung to the memory of you jerking him off, something he couldn’t let go of. Which made the next day extra special.

Rhett barely got a lick of sleep that night, fisting his dick harshly until he came to the picture you sent him. It was as if you knew the effect you were having on him. Sending a picture in this old cowboy hat you had found somewhere, black lace bra and panties on display. It was a good thing that Rhett wasn’t a religious man, because he would definitely be condemned to hell after this month.

So, Rhett made sure to show up to the library an hour early that day, not just fifteen or twenty minutes. Mrs. Benson politely told him that you were in the back room again, a bit of a confused look on her face. He bee-lined for the back room, silently walking in and closing the door behind him. He made sure to switch the lock on the back room door before looking up and down the aisles for you. He found you in the third aisle, in just the outfit he needed you to wear for his plan. He had double checked in the morning, asking for an outfit picture which earned a small winky face with a picture.

The plaid skirt flared out from your hips, stopping at a little bit before your knees. A baggy cardigan covered your top, making Rhett wonder if you had a tank top or anything underneath it. God, he wished he could have done this sooner.

“Hey.” Rhett watched you jump slightly, spooked by his presence.

“Oh my god, Rhett. You scared me.” You held your hand over your chest, Rhett’s eyes trailing to look at your fingertips touching the bare skin of your clavicle. Nope, no tank top. It was the skin he craved to mark up, leave little trails that you could remember him by daily.

“Wasn’t my intention.” He flashed a crooked smile as he took a few steps closer. You could tell there was something different about him today, almost as if he was stalking you. When he reached you he pecked your cheek, making your heart flutter. You loved that he still had this effect on you. You checked your wristwatch, realizing he was much earlier than normal.

“What’s got you coming in so early? There ain’t another hour, well, forty-five-ish minutes before you have to be here.” You went to turn back to face the shelf but Rhett grabbed your wrist.

“Wanted to give you a surprise.” Rhett walked around you, guiding you so your back was almost against the bookshelf.

“A surprise? I don’t recall you saying you had one for me.” Rhett chuckled at your words, leaning in and kissing your jawline.

“Wouldn’ be much of a surprise then, now would it?” Rhett’s lips trailed down your neck, nipping every now and then. Your hands instinctively moved to his chest and shoulders, the material of his flannel soft under your fingertips. One of his hands settled on your waist while the other cradled the other side of your jaw and neck. A soft noise escaped you, urging Rhett to continue with his plan.

“Been waiting weeks,” he lips were soft on your neck in between words, “waiting patiently.” The hand on your waist found the bottom of your baggy cardigan. It was thrilling when he pushed it up slightly, his calloused fingertips grazing over the newly exposed skin.

“Rhett, I-”

“I locked the door.” He pulled back, pupils blown wide with lust as he stared at you. “Wanna make you feel good, the same way you did to me.” You checked your wrist watch again, seeing there was still forty minutes before you had to get the kids ready to leave.

“You better make it quickly then, Mr. Abbott.” Rhett groaned at the title you called him. You had picked up on it throughout the weeks, noticing how his breath would hitch after hearing it. Rhett smashed his lips into yours, a messy kiss pursuing.

The hand grazing your skin under your cardigan moved to the front of your skirt. Fingers dipped between the apex of your thighs, pressing tightly on your pussy. A moan was torn out of you, not expecting Rhett to do this. Was this the surprise he was talking about? It had to be. The hand on your pussy left your body, Rhett pulling back for a moment.

“I wanna taste you.” It felt like the breath had been knocked out of you. You pulled your bottom lip between your teeth, slightly worried about the situation. What if someone were to walk in? Rhett did say he locked the door though. Finally you spoke.

“Depends on how quick you can be, Mr. Abbott.” A smirk tugged at his lips. Without warning, Rhett started to drop to his knees. His hands moved to the hem of your skirt, barely brushing the skin of your thighs.

“Don’t worry ma’am, I can be quick.” The heat in your cheeks boiled as you nodded your head. He pushed the plaid skirt up your thighs, kissing newly exposed skin. “Hold this.” Rhett said as he offered the edge of your skirt to you. You grabbed the material, holding it in your hands tightly. Rhett let out a groan when he saw your soft pink lace panties.

Without warning Rhett pressed his fingers against your panties, rubbing softly at first. Rhett could feel a wetness soaking through the front of your panties. He watched as your hands tightened on your skirt, faltering slightly. His hand touched yours, eyes flicking up to meet yours. “Keep your skirt up, sweetheart.” Your cheeks burned at the pet name he had started to call you through the weeks.

Rhett moved closer, fingers hooking into the waistband of your panties. He slowly guided them down your legs, taking them off and sneakily placing them in his back pocket. He pressed quick kisses to your thighs before reaching your bare cunt. Rhett pushed his tongue between your folds, licking at your clit. You used one hand to hold your skirt, stabilizing yourself with the bookshelf behind you.

Your mouth hung agape as Rhett flicked and licked at your pussy. One of his arms wrapped under your thigh, placing one of your legs over his shoulder. You gripped the shelf behind you tighter, pleasure mounting inside of you. Rhett brought a hand up, slipping a finger inside of your entrance. It was a stretch, but it wasn’t enough. The sensation made you yearn for more, yearn for more of Rhett to be inside of you.

“Rhett..” His name was barely a whisper on your lips, trying to stay quiet. You looked over at your wrist watch once more, noticing only ten minutes had passed. Rhett pushed another finger inside of you, earning a moan as your head lolled back. His two fingers thrusted into you as his mouth gave all its attention to your clit.

“You taste so good.” Rhett whispered just loud enough for you to hear. “Been thinking about this for weeks.” The hand on your skirt tightened a little bit more, your hips starting to cant forward. You started to roll your hips against Rhett’s mouth, the vibrations from one of his groans adding to your pleasure. Rhett’s fingers prodded at that sensitive spot inside of you, increasing the speed of his tongue flicking your clit.

With that combination you let go, coming all over Rhett's mouth. Rhett’s tongue switched from the quick flicks to slow languid strokes, helping not to overstimulate you too much. Soft moans poured out of you, riding out your climax on Rhett’s tongue. Rhett pulled away from you, his fingers leaving you empty inside. A strong desire within you wished he would fill you again, with his cock this time. But you knew that there wouldn’t be any time for that.

Rhett helped lower your leg down, standing up and making sure you were stable. You let your skirt fall, reaching out and grabbing his hand. You brought his hand up to his mouth, taking the two fingers covered in your cum into your mouth. Your tongue swirled around his digits, making him groan and adjust himself in his jeans.

“You’re so dirty.” Rhett whispered against your cheek, his forehead resting against your temple. “Told you you tasted good, don’t ya?” You nodded. You popped off of his fingers, licking your lips afterwards.

“Can I get my underwear back?” You asked playfully. Rhett smirked again, giving you your answer. “Really?”

“It’s my prize, sweetheart.”

The two of you left the back room, earning a questioning look from Mrs. Benson. It was only ten minutes before the other children's parents would start showing up. Rhett hung around and chatted with you, letting Amy keep reading her book. Which ended up with her still reading after all of the other kids had left. Rhett said she could use the time, but you knew the real reason why he was hanging around.

-

-

It was a Friday night, which meant the summer program was over. It had ended that morning, Rhett showing up early to pick Amy up for the last time. He hadn’t mentioned this ride all week, probably not wanting to pressure you into coming. But you wouldn’t have considered it pressuring, you wanted to see him.

Rhett was beyond happy to see you out at his competition tonight. Even more happy when you gave him a small kiss, telling him to break a leg. It was something you had picked up in college, your theater friends explaining that it was bad luck to wish someone good luck before a show. Which you had explained to Rhett briefly one night while the two of you were cuddled up watching a movie. Rhett couldn’t help but think that was what saved him during his ride, when his hand felt like it was gonna slip from the rope. It didn’t though, finishing his ride without anything bad happening.

Tonight was the first time he was allowed to show any type of overly affectionate PDA. Finding you after his ride couldn’t come soon enough. You were hanging out near the rider area, patient as always. Rhett just needed you, needed to thank you for everything. You let out a squeal when his arms snaked around you, picking you up and spinning you around. You quickly grabbed for your glasses, making sure they wouldn’t fall off your face. Hoots and howls could be heard from the other riders. Rhett tipped his hat after he set you down, hand caressing your jawline. His lips connected with yours, butterflies fluttering in your stomach.

It was a gentle kiss, like a lot of the kisses you had shared so far. Kisses at the library, when he took you home after dinner, on the couch cuddled up. So many gentle kisses before, but this one was different. It was something unspoken in this one. An unspoken amount of love for one another.

“Let me take you home.” He whispered, adrenaline still pumping through his system. Rhett hunted down Perry, instructing him to drive his truck home. Perry gave him a knowing look before telling him he was proud of him.

Your heart raced as you sat in the passenger seat, Rhett driving the both of you back. His hand was glued to the inside of your thigh, thumb rubbing small circles. It wasn’t that you were nervous to be with Rhett, that was not it. It was the gravity of the day. The two of you had been keeping things as steady as possible, not wanting anything to get too convoluted while you were teaching Amy. But you weren’t teaching her anymore. The two of you were essentially free now, free to be together to the fullest extent.

“We don’t hav-”

“I want to.” You looked at Rhett, his eyes flicking over to you before focusing back on the road. You adjusted your glasses, “I’m not nervous about doing it or anything.”

“I mean you did promise to show me your wild side one day.” Rhett snickered, remembering the first night the two of you went out.

“I think your surprise at the library counted as that.” You shot him a playful glare as the two of you pulled into your driveway. “It’s just..” Your words trailed off, biting at your lower lip.

“Jus’ what?” There was a short silence. The look on your face was softer now, not as playful. But Rhett could tell you were struggling with something, there was clearly something on your mind. He reached out, rough fingertips gently guided your face to look at his. Rhett knew it had to be now that he told you the thing he had wanted to tell you for weeks.

“I love you.” The two of you said it at the same, confessing your love for one another. You let out a giggle as Rhett flashed you a big smile. He leaned in towards you, grabbing your chin between his thumb and forefinger. His lips moved heatedly on yours, consuming everything you had to offer. His hand shifted to the curve of your jaw, fingers splaying out near your ear. The kiss continued for a moment longer before you both pulled back for air.

“Inside, now.” You demanded.

Rhett killed the engine while you got out. His hand snaked around your waist when you got to the door. While you pulled your keys out, Rhett’s hand sneaked into the back pocket of your jeans. A brief squeeze on your ass had you shooting him a look. He smiled, leaning in to press a kiss onto your neck. “Who locks their door out here?”

“It’s an old habit from the big city.” You explained while you slid the key inside the lock. “Plus, I don’t want any unwanted critters inside.” The two of you stumbled in the doorway, Rhett still close by your side.

“Is that what I am? Unwanted critter?” Rhett joked, hands pulling you flush against him after closing the door. You giggled as he started nipping at your neck.

“Don’t think I’d tell an unwanted critter I love him.” Rhett chuckled at your response. The two of you headed through the hallway, hands and lips traveling all over each other. Rhett’s flannel and hat had been lost in the living room, yours in the hallway.

Once to your bedroom, Rhett started to take a bit more control. His hands gripped your hips and pulled them tight to his. You could feel his cock getting hard in his jeans, his belt buckle digging into your hip. One hand moved to your face, cupping your cheek while kissing you roughly. He kept walking you back until the bed hit the back of your knees. The kiss broke as you went to lay down on the bed, Rhett following you immediately.

"You look so beautiful." Rhett said as he admired your beauty. He finally had you laid out underneath him, a dream come true. His hands ghosted over your sides, grabbing at your hips and pulling them tightly to his. Your arms snaked around his shoulders, fingers combing up through the hairs on the nape of his neck. Rhett’s mouth worked on your neck, groaning as he left a wet trail along your skin.

A small giggle came out of you as he nosed along up your neck. He kissed up your jaw before pulling up to look at you, “What’s got you gigglin’”?

“Oh nothing, Mr. Abbott.” Rhett rutted his hips into you harshly at the name.

“You better watch yourself with saying that.”

“What? Don’t like it, Mr. Abbott.” You teased. Rhett groaned, fingers grabbing your chin tightly.

“You know what that does to me.” You pulled him down and connected your lips with his. The both of you smiled into the kiss as your hips rocked together. His hands moved to the hem of your t-shirt, pushing up the shirt to get access to your skin. Fingers ghosted and trailed up the skin of your midsection. He pushed the shirt up over your chest, exposing the light pink lace of your bralette. Your back arched when he grabbed your breasts, kneading over the lace.

“Like what you see?” You only half joked.

“You have no idea.” Rhett tugged at your shirt more, signaling it was time to remove the article. After your shirt was gone Rhett kissed the valley between your breasts. His hands kneading at your flesh while kissing your chest. His fingers slipped underneath the band of your bralette, guiding it up over your head.

It was the first time he had seen your bare breasts. Yeah, you had sent pics of you in lingerie to him, but never anything completely bare. He pressed a few more kisses all over your chest before taking a nipple into his mouth. Your back arched slightly, his mouth consuming more of your breast. His thumb and forefinger started pinching and rolling your other nipple. Your fingers threaded through his hair, tugging lightly.

“Rhett.” His name was barely a whisper on your lips. You could feel him groan around your nipple when your hand trailed down between the two of you. You palmed the front of his jeans, his cock pressing hard against your hand. Rhett sat up, pulling his own shirt off and undoing his belt buckle and jeans. After he shucked them off he moved to undo your jeans.

“A matching set?” Rhett questioned when he saw the light pink lace panties. You had planned it out all week, knowing that you would finally have a moment like this. A moment of being completely vulnerable to Rhett. His fingers ghosted up over your legs as he settled between your legs. You felt completely bare under his warm oasis of a gaze. A bit of nervousness flowed through you, nodding softly as a response to his question.

“Cat got your tongue, mouse?” You shot him a little look. The little name took you by surprise, a small call back to your first night at the bar. Fingertips trailed over the pink lace covering your core. Rhett started rubbing his fingers on your clothed cunt, feeling the small wet patch that had started to form. His gaze locked with yours as you let moans and gasps fall from your lips. His hands moved to the edges of the lace, pulling them down slowly over your legs.

After tossing the panties somewhere behind him, he grabbed one of your ankles and lifted it up to his lips. He pressed a soft kiss to the inside of your ankle. Soft lips continued down the inside of your leg, Rhett slowly settling against the bed. His hot breath fanned over your cunt, your insides clenching at the sensation. Rhett wrapped his arms around your thighs, keeping you locked in place before he even started.

Rhett’s tongue flattened on your clit, licking slowly. Both of your hands snaked down, one landing on the comforter while the other took its place in Rhett’s hair. Your back arched, pleasure flowing through you with each lick of his tongue. One of his arms left your thigh, reaching out to your hand on the comforter. He laced his fingers with yours as he continued his feast between your thighs.

Gasps and moans mixed in with calls of Rhett’s name, urging him to continue. Small vibrations could be felt from Rhett’s groans, pushing you closer to your climax. The tightening sensation in your abdomen was becoming more noticeable. Rhett flicked his tongue on your clit then dragged it slowly back and forth.

“Holy fuck…” You could almost feel the smirk on his lips. Rhett flicked his tongue more intensely on your clit, finally pushing you over the edge.

This was a similar sensation that Rhett got from riding bulls, pure ecstasy. All Rhett could think was how beautiful you looked, coming all over his mouth. The way your back arched off the bed, hand tightening against his own. Seeing you give yourself up to him, letting him push you over the edge in such an intimate way had him grinding against the bed. Rhett couldn’t help but think about how good you would feel wrapped around his cock. Being connected at your core.

When he pulled back you finally got a break, your chest falling heavily. A small trail of wet kisses was created as Rhett moved back up your body. He nuzzled your neck and jaw, pressing more kisses before capturing your lips with his. You could taste yourself on his tongue, moaning into his mouth.

“You taste so fucking good, mouse.” You rolled your eyes.

“My turn to taste you.” You pressed your hand on his chest, acting as if you were going to roll the two of you over.

“Nah,” Rhett grabbed your hand and laced his fingers between yours, “I can’t wait to be in you any longer. Been waitin' too many weeks for this.” You rolled your hips up, feeling Rhett’s clothed cock press against your cunt. A groan rumbled in Rhett's throat while he captured your lips with his. One of his hands snaked down between the two of you, pushing his boxers down.

A moan passed your lips when you felt his cock rest against your pussy. Rhett haphazardly pushed his boxers all the way off. You brought your hand down to wrap around his cock. He groaned at the few strokes you gave him before you guided the tip to your entrance. Rhett propped himself up, looking down at you as his hips pushed forward.

Rhett watched as your jaw went slack. The stretch of his cock was intoxicating, filling you up the more his hips pushed forward. Your eyes never left Rhett's, warm oases welcoming you. A small whimper left Rhett once he bottomed out. Your warmth encapsulated him, letting him know this was where he was meant to be. Rhett eventually broke the stare, nuzzling down into your clavicle. Small kisses were peppered all over your skin.

Rhett dragged his hips back a little, slowly pushing forward the small amount. The sensation already had your body shivering with pleasure. Rhett started slowly rolling his hips, wanting to savor the moment as much as possible. He knew that the chances of this activity happening again were high, but he just needed for this moment to last. You wrapped one arm around Rhett's left shoulder, threading your fingers into his hair once more. Your other hand rested on the front of his chest.

"God, you're perfect." Rhett groaned, placing kisses along your neck and jawline. He knew sex would be special with you, but life-changing wasn't what he was expecting. The way your body reacted to every small touch had Rhett teetering on the edge of climax already.

"Rhett, I-" You couldn't finish the sentence, to caught up in the waves of pleasure flowing through you.

"What do you need, sweetheart?" Rhett pulled back to look down at you, cupping the side of your face. "Tell me."

"Harder."

Rhett pulled back, leaving just the tip inside of you. He kept his eyes on your face as he slammed back in hard. Your whole body reacted, back arching while your hands scrambled for purchase. Your mouth was agape as sinful sounds poured from it. Rhett kept this steady pace of hard thrusts, giving you exactly what you wanted.

"Oh fuck, Rhett!" The head of his cock pounded into the sensitive spot inside of you. Every time he hit it, a new jolt of pleasure ran through you. The coil in your lower abdomen was tight, about ready to snap and send you over the edge. You could tell Rhett was getting close too, harder breaths coming from him. Rhett didn't say a word, his hand moving between the two of you to rub your clit. That's when it was game over.

The combination of his fingers on your clit and powerful thrusts sent you tumbling over the edge. Pleasure washed over your nerves, Rhett’s finger still working your clit. Rhett groaned at the feeling of you clenching around him. His thrusts started to stutter, focusing on the feeling of your walls working his cock. Crescent shapes formed in Rhett’s skin, your nails digging harshly as he kept your orgasm going.

“Fuck, sweetheart. The way you feel,” Rhett pressed his forehead to yours, “I ain’t gon’ last.” You nodded as you stared into his eyes. It was Rhett’s turn for his mouth to be agape, groans and heavy breaths coming from him. Your fingers threaded into Rhett’s hair once more, pulling him down to the nuzzle against your clavicle. Rhett felt safe with you, rutting into your warmth that he had craved for weeks. It was a sense of security, something he had never truly felt in his life.

“Fuck, I love you.” Rhett whispered against your skin.

“I love you too, Rhett.” With those four words and his name he was gone. His hips steadied as he thrusted into you one last time. Small kisses littered your collarbones as he kept his hips tight to yours, spilling his cum inside of you.

The two of you laid there for sometime, Rhett still slotted between your thighs as your fingers traced small circles on his shoulder blades. He traced a small pattern along your side, basking in the subsiding afterglow. That sense of security was blanketed over him. He never wanted it to end, wanting to feel this safe forever. A part of him wondered how he had never felt it before but he knew why. He hadn’t had you before. Not just in a sexual way, but he had never fully experienced this kind of love. The love that let him know he was always welcome. Always loved.

“Hmm?” You questioned, sensing a tiny shift in his demeanor. It wasn’t a bad shift, something much softer than what you thought Rhett might be capable of.

“Nothin’, I just..” Rhett propped himself up on his elbows, looking down at you. Your beauty was something Rhett could still marvel at. Like watching the early morning sun rise. “You make me feel something.” Small butterflies could be felt in your stomach.

“Feel what?” Rhett smiled, pushing some hair back from your face.

“Welcome.” A kiss. “Safe.” Another kiss. “Happy.” Another kiss. “Loved.” A final kiss. A warmth had raised into your cheeks. The smile on his face was one that was pure. The two of you stared at each other for a few more moments, just taking one another in. Rhett shifted, pulling himself out of you. Even though he was softened it still felt like you were losing something. Rhett moved to the spot on the bed next to you. You rolled on your side to look at him, letting out a soft noise as his cum started leaking out of you.

“We should clean up and talk.” The look he gave you was one full of sincerity.

“Talk about what?” You questioned. You used a playful tone to mask the tiny amount of anxiety you suddenly had. Rhett must have noticed because he cupped your cheek when he sat up.

“Don’t worry,” he pressed a kiss to your nose, “it’s nothin’ bad, mouse.”

The two of you made your way to the bathroom. Rhett used a warm washcloth to clean himself up, you sitting on the toilet watching him. It was domestic, something you could get used to. Might even let him clean you up the next time. Rhett kissed your forehead before heading back to the bedroom, letting you finish using the toilet and cleaning up.

Rhett had climbed under the comforter when you got back, his boxers being the only thing he wore. He was checking his phone briefly before looking at you, placing his phone on the side table. You moved to your dresser, grabbing a large t-shirt from the drawer. You didn’t bother with any underwear, climbing into bed and curling up next to Rhett. He wrapped his arm around your shoulders, keeping you close.

“So-”

“I th-” The both of you stopped and giggled. Rhett motioned for you to go first.

“I was just gonna ask what you wanted to talk about.” Rhett nodded, thumb rubbing softly on your skin.

“I want to talk about us.” Rhett was never great with conveying his emotions through words.

“What about us?” You teased. Rhett rolled his eyes.

“About how I want to,” Rhet paused for a moment, “want to be with you.”

“Rhett, you ju-”

“No,” Rhett bite his lower lip, “I want you more than physically. I want to be with you all the time.” You knew what he was asking of you. It was funny to watch him still beat around the bush after everything.

“Rhett, I’m not quite sure what you’re asking me.” You said with a smirk. He rolled his eyes once more, letting out a sigh.

“You really gon’ make m-” Rhett was cut off by you pressing a kiss to his lips.

“Rhett, I want to be with you too.” Rhett smiled as he kissed you again. His arms wrapped around you completely, rolling the two of you over. He peppered you with kisses, happiness spreading over the both of you. Rhett couldn’t be happier with you, happier with his little bookmouse.