#mbj x reader

That was until the twins moved back. You hadn’t heard of them, too busy wrapped inside your own little world to worry about what others had going on but once they came back, the word spread like wildfire. The flames were big enough to knock the walls down of your domaine and the whispers echoed loudly in your ears.

“Heard they just came back from Chicago.”

“I heard they was over there stealing and killing people.”

“I’m surprised they ain’t locked up. Somebody should do something.”

You minded your business though, tended to your horses, dogs and your bakery business.

Cookies, pies, cakes, brownies and just about anything sweet that you could name, was your specialty. You started getting called Peaches for your obsession with making peach cobbler and handing it out to your neighbors. You had learned to cook and bake from a very early age, your mother making sure you knew how to throw down in the kitchen so that you could impress your potential husband.

But you didn’t care for that, you learned because you liked it, loved it actually, and eventually you took your talents elsewhere.

To Tik Tok.

Pink kitchen and utensils caught the attention of millions of people who liked to watch you do what you do best. You hadn’t expected the surge of attention, the videos only being posted in hopes to your reach your friends and family, but the algorithm had other plans. And so that’s how you spent your days, tending to your animals and baking sweets for your millions of fans and to share with your neighbors. Eventually you became the talk of the town, everybody wanted to try a piece of your desserts and before you knew it, you had people showing up at your doorstep asking for anything, a crumb even.

One night, while you were preparing sugar cookies, you heard a knock at your door that wasn’t frantic like it usually was. It was slow and loud. Just two knocks.

You wiped your hands on your pink apron, long curly light brown hair cascading down your back as you walk towards the entrance, the shorts you wore barely covered your ass and the cropped tank top hugged your upper body tight. You weren’t expecting anyone this late, no one usually showed up at this time.

The clock ticked to 11PM just as your hand reached the handle. A man, who you hadn’t seen before, stood there in a all black suit. His face was expressionless but his eyes stayed on the way your cheeks reddened before they traveled down your body, zeroing in on the deep brown moisturized skin that glowed against the moonlight.

Something about his demeanor made your stomach turn, nerves clawing at your body, but there was something else, a heat hidden behind the fear.

“Oh. Hi! H-How may I help you?” Your voice was soft and something about it caused Stack’s jaw to tick slightly, that and the way you smelled of fresh vanilla and peaches.

“Evenin ma’am. Names’ Stack. My apologizes for disturbing you so late. I’m here on behalf of Mrs. Delphine, says her husband sick and in the hospital again, been craving sum of them lemon cookies you be making.”

His voice was deep and rough in a way that would send anybody else running. Accent slow like molasses and thick just like yours. Your thighs clenched before you could stop yourself.

“Oh um. Y-yeah. I have some. I just gotta pack them up for him. Um—” You hesitated, teeth sinking into your plush lip before mentally telling yourself ‘Fuck it’.

“Um— Do you want to come in and wait while I get everything together?”

Stack nodded, a small smirk appeared on his lips before he stepped inside your little world that you had carefully crafted for yourself.

And the rest was history.

Your viewers started to notice the change, the way you recorded videos with a smile so wide you’d think the measuring cups had told you a joke. They noticed how softer you were, the dreamy look on your face and the way you just glowed.

Assumptions about a man being in the picture were in almost every single video you posted. You didn’t bother confirming nor denying anything. Just let them keep guessing.

Until you popped out with a ring on your finger. You weren’t even bothering on being discreet, your perfectly manicured hand was all in the camera as you recorded how you baked a cheesecake. The boulder on your finger catching the light and making its presence known.

You tried to remove the ring, your audience too distracted by it to pay attention to what you were making but Stack wasn’t having that. Not one bit.

“Stop fucking playin with me. Put that shit back on.”

He groaned as he watched the video you had posted without it. Stack didn’t even have a tik tok account before you, didn’t even care about anything pertaining to social media. But once the two of you got together, he made sure to watch anything you posted.

‘User3829928’ liked your video.

He didn’t even bother making a name for himself, didn’t care to post or even watch anything else. His only purpose was to watch you. Sometimes you’d post things to get under his skin. A picture with a miniskirt that was wayyyy too short. A dress that hugged your curves too tight for a video on how to make homemade ice cream. Or starting a ‘get ready with me’ video in a silk robe that showed a little too much for him. Each time ended with you on your knees, attempting to apologize to him as he fucked your throat. You promised you wouldn’t do it again through tears that seeped through the pillow case while he fucked you silly.

But you never kept your promises.

-

You shouldn’t have done it, but you were frustrated beyond belief. Stack had left early that morning with the lie stuck on his lips that he’d return in time to make cupcakes with you. It was a cute little tradition the two of you had started since you first got together.

Every Friday, the two of you would spend the day baking or cooking something. Anything.

Last Friday, Stack wanted tomato soup and grilled cheese. So the two of you spent the day making that, even had more than enough to send over to Smoke and Annie.

This Friday though, you and the small little bean growing inside of your belly were craving cupcakes and Stack had given you his word. Said he just had a few errands to run with Smoke and that he’d be back early enough to bake the cupcakes so that they’d be ready by dinner time.

By 5PM you were still waiting for him, the pout on your face deepened as you texted him for the 8th time in the past 10 minutes.

By 5:30 you have had enough. You changed into a red halter top, mini dress that Stack had specifically bought just for you to wear for him, fluffed out your curls and touched up your makeup. You grabbed your phone, set it up on the tripod in the kitchen and started the live.

Comments flooded in seconds, compliments being thrown left and right. Some from the ladies but most from men.

“Hi guys!” You waved to the camera, the stack of bracelets dancing loudly on your wrist. “It’s a bit late but I was planning on making cupcakes so I figured you guys would like to join me.” Your smile was sweet, as it always was. No one suspected your ulterior motives.

No more than 5 minutes of you starting, your iPad started ringing. Your phone, which was placed on DND, recorded as you watched your iPad ring before shutting it off.

It only took Stack 20 minutes to drive home. You were distracted, too deep into explaining your recipe to notice him walk into the kitchen. His heavily tatted arms were crossed across his chest, his body stiff behind your phone. White T shirt clung to his muscles, black jeans handing low on his hips, some Jordan’s and chains sitting heavy on his pretty neck.

“Okay so make sure that you’re adding enough vanilla extract or it’s going to taste like—” You jumped once you noticed him, heart racing loudly in your chest. The viewers noticed, half concerned, half excited to maybe get a glimpse of your man.

“Is that him?”

“Omg don’t tell me we’re about to meet Mr.Peaches himself.”

“Guys have you noticed that she looks a bit pregnant here?”

Stack eyed you. Fully. From the top of your head, down to the French tip pedicure on your toes. He clenched his jaw as he looked at the dress you wore.

“End the live fa me, baby.” You bit the side of your bottom lip, eyes wide and staring up at him. Somewhat embarrassed that this was happening on live, somewhat turned on from the intensity of his stare.

“I—I’m not done, papa.”

“I know you ain’t done but we gotta talk, so end the live.”

“Ooop not my good sis done fucked up”

“Shiiiitttt girl he sound like he not playing, ga head and end the live.”

“Why do I feel like I’m the one getting in trouble?”

You nodded. “Okay guys, I’ll see yall in a bit.” The screen went dark as soon as the live ended. You locked your phone and placed it on the counter. You could feel the weight of his eyes on you but pretended not to.

“You like playing with me?” Stack slowly walked up to you.

“Stack—”

“Nah, answer me. You like pissing me off?” He stood right in front of you, arms on either side, holding on to the counter behind you. He leaned down and it took everything in you not to throw yourself into his warmth. He smelled of cologne and weed, scent strong enough to make you dizzy with desire.

“No…” your lips formed a pout, eyes wide in the way you knew could get you anything you wanted. His lips twitched, trying hard not to smirk at how cute you looked. “Get ya ass upstairs. Now.”

“But-”

“Now, baby.”

You nodded, and headed up the stairs with him trailing behind you. He didn’t like being mean to you, you were too sweet for that, but he was never afraid to put you in your place.

You sat at the edge of the bed and waited for him to walk in, your nerves were through the roof but you also lived for the thrill and he knew that. Stack’s steps were heavy, you expected him to walk right to you, to grab you up and choke you like how he always does but instead he walks to the vanity that sat across from the bed. You watched the muscles on his back move, his big frame blocking what he was doing.

After a few seconds of messing around, he turned and walked to you. His hand gently gripped your jaw, thumb smoothing circles onto your skin. “You wanted my attention, mama? Huh? That’s why you did that?”

You nod, face formed into a pout. This wasn’t usual for him, the gentleness after you piss him off.

“Nah speak up. Tell me what the problem is.” Your breath stutters and eyebrows furrow in confusion. His voice was soft, the complete opposite of what you were expecting. “Speak, mama. I’m here now. Tell me what’s up.”

Your mouth opens, getting ready to spill your truth, to admit that your hormones and emotions were completely out of wack and all you wanted was your man.

Stack lowers down to his knees, his hands pull your dress up in one quick motion. A small gasp escapes your mouth when he presses a kiss to your knee, trailing his lips further up your thigh. “I don’t hear you.” He looks up at you, waiting for you to say something, anything.

“I—It’s just that I-” Stack spreads your legs further, prompting you to lean back on to your elbows. He digs his nose onto the damp spot of your panties, groaning at your scent. Your breathing picks up, hands already gripping onto the sheets and body slightly trembling.

“Mm, so fucking sensitive.” He places a kiss to your covered mound before gripping the sides of your underwear and pulling them down your legs. “I don’t hear you talking.”

You whimpered at the heat of his face so close to where you needed him the most. “Elias” You softly begged.

“Nah, none of that. I ain’t moving till you speak.”

You groan, laying your body down fully as your eyes stare up at the ceiling. “I just… I really wanted cupcakes and you promised me you’d make them with me—” Stack dug his face in your drenched pussy, tongue flattening on your clit before pulling back. A moan stops you mid sentence, eyes drifting down to him as you watch him spit. His fingers mix it with your essence before slowly pushing into your tight hole.

“Eliiiasssss” Your back arches, small belly bump covering the way he leans in and wraps his lips around your aching clit.

“I ain’t tell you to stop, did I?” His fingers curl inside of you, moving faster as his tongue continuously laps up your juices. “Talk to me. I’m listening.”

“F-Fuck!” Your moans mixed into whimpers, already feeling the coil forming in your stomach. “Don’t stop.” You gasped, eyes rolled to back of your head while Stack feasted on you.

He smacked the inside of your thigh with his free hand. “Keep talking or ima stop.” You felt him slow down, face slowly pulling back just as you were about to cum.

“Fuuuuckk, okay okayyy. I just, I needed you here—” Stack hummed in satisfaction, fingers continuing to slowly pump in and out of you while he watched you try not to fall apart. “A—And you were gone for a long time—” You couldn’t stop whimpering, pregnancy making you extra sensitive to his touch.

“Mhm and what else, mama?”

You squirmed, full body trembling from the feel of his fingers reaching deep inside of you as he slightly picked up his pace. “Eliasss fuucckkkk.”

“Keep going, you doing good, baby.” He placed kisses to your clit, holding you right at the edge of that breaking point.

“Fuccckkkk, I just needed you here. I needed your attention— I just wanted you, daddy.” You sounded so sultry, voice high and full of moans.

“Yeah? That’s all it was?” Stack puckered his lips around your clit again and let his tongue play with it. You cried out, hands reaching out to grab his head while your hips frantically moved up and down his face.

“Yes! Yes! That was all, daddy. I swear!” It didn’t take much for the restraint to snap, your juices decorated Stacks face and your body twisted and turned as if trying to find a place to store the pleasure you were feeling.

“You so fucking wet, my god.” Stack moaned as he sucked and licked every drop from you. He stood to his full height, hands immediately reaching for his shirt and removing it. Next was his pants, thrown to the side along with his boxers. You moaned at the sight of him, tattoos tracing his front and back, including your name right along the side of his neck.

Stack grabbed your body and turned you to the side, then laid right behind you. His arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you to his chest while the other one gripped your leg, lifting it high enough for your knee to reach his shoulder. “This what you wanted, right?” You felt the head of his dick nudge your folds, drenching it in your essence. The sound was obscene. There was no denying how badly you needed him.

“Yessssss.” You arched back onto him.

“Ga head, take it. Take what you want.”

Your trembling hand reached down and grabbed his dick, slowly pushing it inside of you. Stack groaned, burying his face in your neck as he slowly moved his hips.

Moans escaped your open mouth as you felt the stretch from the pure girth he carried. “Oh my god.” You cried out as he bottomed out, his full length deep inside of you while you clawed at his arm and the sheets. “Fuck!”

“Mhmm, take it, take that shit baby.” He sped up his pace. Thrusting in and out of you while you cried out every time he kissed your cervix.

“S—so big, papa!” You whined, already feeling the way your stomach was tightening again.

“I know baby, I know. But you can take it right? Look how good you’re doing. Taking all this big dick.” He grabbed your face and turned it to his. Your lips met in a slow dance that contrasted with the way he was fucking you. You couldn’t stop moaning into his mouth, your face forming a small pout.

“Don’t look at me like that. You wanted this right? Take it. Just like that.” His voice was like silk against your ears. Your hand weakly grabbed onto his arm as you squirted with every thrust.

“Eliaaaassssss!”

“Mhmmm, give it to me. Give me all that shit. Nut all on your dick, baby.”

Your body shook and bent against him but he wouldn’t dare stop. You were nothing but gasps and whimpers, trying your best to come down from the intense high you just experienced.

Stack pressed your lips together again, tongue sneaking its way into your mouth. “Open.” He spit into your mouth the second you followed his order. Hips still digging into you.

He slowed down and shifted so that he’d be able to deepen his strokes. You sobbed into his neck, your French tips pressing crescent moons on his thigh. His other hand rubbed your small but plump belly. “Cum for me again. Do it. Let me see you break.”

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as your juices sprayed out of you, another orgasm ripping through your body without permission.

“Drown me just like that. Keep going, don’t fucking stop.” His lips were right by your ear, you heard every small groan, every breath and whisper that he tried to hide.

“Okaaayyyy.” You whined, feeling completely out of your own body.

You couldn’t stop squirting, all you could was sob and try your hardest to gain some type of control of the situation but your body was overstimulated and done for. Stack didn’t care though, he kept going. Dick sliding in and out of you with a wet splat each time he went all the way in.

“Good girl, mama. You gon let me ruin you like this, huh?” His strokes slowed down, you felt each inch of his thick cock trying to tear you apart.

“I— I can’t.” Your tears fell in waterfalls, short breaths turned into gasps as he continued to abuse your already swollen folds.

“Yes you can. Come on, give me one more. You can do that for me, right?”

“I caaaannnt. Elias, I can’t, fuck. I can’t.” Your toes curled and your body hadn’t stopped trembling since he started. You cried out over and over again as you reached a state of what felt like hysteria. He felt so good but you could barely breathe and were practically drooling. Your eyes kept rolling to the back of your head and your juices drenched the mattress beneath you.

Stack reached his hand down and pressed a two fingers to your clit. Your jaw dropped, hand reaching back to lightly slap his chest over and over again, as he rubbed your nub in circles. Screams echoed throughout the room as your body practically convulsed.

“There she go. That’s exactly where I want you. Just like that, baby. Stay just like that while I ruin you.” Your walls fluttered around his length, another orgasm threatening to destroy you. “Breathe. Let me hear you.”

You took a deep breath, eyes squeezing shut while you sobbed. “I love your dick, daddy. I love it so much!” You cried out loud.

“Yea? This why yo ass pregnant now. Nasty ass girl.”

“Keep fucking me, please! You feel so good inside my pussy. Don’t stop. Don’t stop!”

He moaned against your ear, hips stuttering from trying to hold himself back. “Look at you. Dumb off of dick. They don’t even know how you get. Tryna act all innocent for them people—If only they fucking knew.” He sped up, hand lifting your leg higher to reach parts of you, you didn’t even know could be touched. “You love me, hm? Tell me you love me. Tell me I’m the only nigga that could ruin you like this.”

“I love you! I love you! I’m gonna cum. Fuck, I’m gonna fucking cum, Elias. Oh my god!” The hand on your clit sped up to match his thrusts.

“Say it. Tell me this mine. Tell me I own you.” His strokes were brutal, all that was heard was the slapping of his skin against yours and the mess you were currently making. “This my pussy, my body, my nut. All of it. Mine. You hear me? I own you, baby. All of you.”

“Yes! It’s yours. All yours! Fuck!” Your body snapped, shaking profusely as your cum flowed out of you. Stack whimpered, his thighs trembling as he filled you with his seed.

“Oh fucckkkk” he moaned against your shoulder, pressing kisses to your damp skin, trying his best to calm down. He slowed his movements, letting the both of you ride out the orgasm.

You twitched against him, slumped over in a state of absolute bliss. Stack kissed you all over, hands rubbing your sides to calm you down.

Your eyes opened slowly, looking around as if you couldn’t believe that just happened. It felt like you had an out of body experience.

The vanity that sat right in front you, had your phone propped up and facing the both of you. Your eyes widen as you gasp.

Stack followed your eyesight, he chuckled slightly before getting up. Grabbing your phone, he pointed it right at your exhausted figure.

“Thought I’d keep this for memory as a reminder of what happens when you try to play with me.” You bit your lip, stomach turning in a way that it shouldn’t have been after all that. But the thought of having a video of the two of you having sex, saved into your phone where you could watch whenever, caused a fire to burn deep within you.

“Come on, baby. Show the camera the mess we made.” A smirk played on your lips as you turn over. Back arched and chest pressed onto the bed, you reach back and open your folds with two fingers. Stack groans, moving the camera closer to catch the way his nut slides out of you.

“Perfect.” He moaned before turning it off and lightly spanked your ass.

“Let’s get you cleaned up before you get me started again.” You giggle as he picks you up bridal style and heads to the bathroom.

Though you can’t complain much, considering that you were right here with them—dancing as if you hadn’t in years.

In a way, you haven't. You haven’t felt a rush of autonomy and euphoria quite like this before.

With everyone being nothing but working busy-bodies, there’s been little to no time to plan big events such as tonight. The lack of excitement has been a major factor too.

Hence why as soon as the Moore twins came back into town with the intention to open up their very own juke joint, everyone was on board.

The pair hadn’t been seen here in seven years.

Seven long, cruel years without the twin you’ve grown to love.

Stack.

Well, he was Stack to everyone else. But to you? He was still Elias. Your ‘Lias.

Seven years without his lingering touches and pearly smiles.

You weren’t the only one that missed him, it seems.

Your sister told you that when she went down near the train station, she was right there waiting for your Elias.

Mary was waiting.

You don’t have a clue as to how she knew he was coming home before you did, considering that nobody from the Delta had heard from him except for you. And a letter from him was rather rare.

Mary had nearly thrown a fit once she saw him; it didn’t help that Elias had turned down her persistent advances.

The lack of contact obviously sent her over the edge.

Apparently she mentioned their former relations; their connection being a secret to none.

You were envious of this; never jealous, but overcome by a feeling of want.

Growing up with the twins meant that the three of you were as close as can be. That being said, though, they looked at you as if you were their little sister. It was fine when Elijah assumed the role of a family member, but Elias?

Just thinking about it makes your heart ache.

You longed for the flirtatious remarks that he’d give off to any and every woman, a night filled with intimacy plagued your mind constantly.

But you got over it.

You had to. Not only for the sake of your friendship with Elias, but also because of his prolonged absence from town.

That’s why tonight—right now, you had to pump the breaks and focus on celebrating the twins’ success.

Speaking of success?

You making your way over to the bar with your wobbly heeled-covered feet was a success. Surprisingly.

“Someone’s been dancin’ a lil too hard, huh?” Annie chortles, looking at you with nothing but sisterly-love, and a bit of amusement.

“Only dancin’ I was doing was during my cooking—nothin’ like this in a while,” you exclaim with bliss through a beaming smile. You huff as you sit down in front of the bar. “Y’got anythin’ good back here?” You motion to the bottles Annie has surrounding her.

“Better than good,” Annie replies before ducking down and searching below the counter.

You brace your hands on the counter and slightly peer over at the woman, but then she pops up quicker than you can plop back down onto your chair. She quirks a brow at you before placing a bottle down in front of you.

“What’s this?” You question; if Annie didn’t know any better, she would’ve thought that it was Christmas morning with the way you were looking at the bottle.

“Authentic Irish beer; straight from the north side of Chicago. Different from the rest they’re sellin’.” She replies. “Your man brought it specifically for you—made me promise I wouldn’t give it to nobody else, no matter how much they was payin’.”

You bite back a smile at her words; you knew exactly who she was talking about.

“He fixin’ to be Mary’s.” Your lips straighten, it’s bittersweet.

“That so? ‘Cause that ain’t what I heard,” Annie muses, making you pause. You savor Annie’s words as if they were your holy grail. Was there a chance that Elias looked at you the same as you did him?

You crane your neck and your gaze is set over your shoulder—over at him.

He catches your eye and he gives you a cheeky smile, to which you return rather eagerly.

You hadn’t had a single nonchalant bone in your body it seems.

Your shared staring was cut short as Mary forced Elias’ attention back onto her, but it wasn’t exactly a hard task for her.

Something about her was just so easy and simple, despite the ring shining on her hand that matched another man’s being anything but simple. The way that they connected even after all these years made you feel as if you swallowed a jar of mud.

After a few sips of beer, you can’t help but let a smile rest on your face. Elias knew you’d love it, and it makes your heart dance.

Speaking of dancing, your dearest friend Pearline struts up to you with a grin that soared for miles.

“What’s got you cheesin’ all hard?” You raise your eyebrows at her, making her giggle.

“Y’know the Preacher’s boy? The one that was just singin’?” Pearline’s nearly jumping out of her skin with excitement.

“Lil’ Sammie Moore? Course I do, why? What’d you do Pearl?” You gape at her and hold her hands tightly in yours.

“Well…” She trails off. “Let’s just say, he showed me he ain’t a boy, but a real man.”

Your eyes nearly bulge out of the sockets as you exclaim a Pearline! that could probably be heard for miles.

Pearline gushes, “He made me feel things I ain’t never felt before.”

“Not even with your mister?” You gasp.

“Not even close. And that’s not all,” she pauses before looking around, then leaning in towards you.

“I wasn’t even able to freshen up. He didn’t want me to,” Pearline whispers.

You shout, then look around in embarrassment at your outburst; you shake Pearline vigorously by her shoulders and giggle some more.

You decide to look around the joint, and you coincidentally catch Sammie looking right at the back of Pearline’s frame in utter awe.

You nudge Pearline, and she looks over at him with you. The look that she throws his way is nothing short of flirtatious.

“He looked at ya like he wanted t’take a bite,” you snicker.

Pearline looks at you mischievously, “Funny, considerin’ he already did.” You can’t help but laugh.

“So, y’thinkin’ bout singin’ like he said?” You ask.

Pearline hums, “Maybe. ‘M thinkin’ you should too.”

“No, not happenin’. Not a chance,” You scoff playfully.

Pearline whines and grabs your wrists. “C’mon, sista! When’s the last time you got the chance to do this?” She pouts, and tries hardest to make puppy-dog eyes at you.

“Besides, this could be y’chance to make a move on Stack. Ain't that whatcha been waitin’ for?” She drags.

You falter at the question she poses.

“Tonight’s the night, sista.” Pearline murmurs softly.

It’s crazy how you always get in your head when it comes to him.

The thing is, you weren’t one to throw yourself out there just to entertain a man. No, that just wasn’t your style.

But God—tonight? His suit was fitting snug in all the right places, his grills glimmered dangerously in the dim lighting, and his eyes always found yours, recklessly.

You couldn’t resist Elias Moore.

And right now, you’re starting to wonder if you ever could.

“Y’better wrap that scarf on tight, Pearl,” you say as you grab her arm and start walking with her to the front. Pearline shrills and claps her hands with glee.

You saunter towards the stage with a pep in your step and your arm linked with a perky Pearline. Your heels clack on the wooden floors as you come face-to-face with the band and none other than Delta Slim, who’s now grinning at you.

“Been tryin’ to getcha to sing for years girl, what’s with the change o’ heart?” He questions with a smirk, as if he already knew the answer. You’re sure that he did with the way that his eyes looked past you and towards Elias.

“It’s a nice night, figured I’d try sum different,” you shrug, trying to mask your sudden embarrassment. Pearline intertwines her hand with yours and uses her other one to gesture to the band. You inhale deeply while looking at her; she gives you a look of reassurance.

The patrons of the juke joint grow silent at the sight of you two taking your stances and the band readying their instruments.

Pearline starts humming and you lightly stomp your feet on the stage, starting to form a beat as the band follows.

Elias feels as if his heart was being weighed down by a ton inside of him. He held his breath—scared that the rise and fall of his chest would make him miss the steady view of you: parading around as if everything outside the joint had come to a halt.

You looked completely, and utterly divine up there; moving swiftly and effortlessly, as if you owned the very ground you were stepping on.

You were absolutely ethereal in Elias’ eyes.

And he’d be lying if he said that he wasn’t falling even harder for his sugar as of right now. He was the only man that could get away with calling you sugar; he knows it, so does everyone else in the Delta—and Elias can’t help but let his pride swell every time he thinks about it.

Your body sways carelessly as if you were one with the words that escaped your lips, but your eyes are grounded—powerful, even. Speaking of them: your glittering orbs meet his, your gaze nothing short of a vixen’s.

Though, the interlocking of your sights is interrupted when Mary makes her presence known yet again at Elias’ side. He can’t help but sigh at the intrusion.

Luckily, Elias’ ever-growing agitation fades when the patrons of the juke let out their elation around him. The band’s playing picks up, as well as you and Pearline’s voices.

Don’t let it shine, shine, shine once more

Pale, pale moon, pale, pale moon

Everyone chants and stomps rhythmically.

“I wanna sing, like I hear the crickets do,” Pearline sings seductively while peering at Sammy as she struts.

Pale, pale moon, pale, pale moon

“I wanna hoo,” you and Pearline sing simultaneously, harmonizing beautifully as your backs meet and you both slide to a crouching position.

Pale, pale moon, pale, pale moon

“I wanna howl,” the two of you sound as if you were straight out of a folktale—like one of those myths of the sirens that Annie had explained to Elias once before. You and Pearline then reside in a crawl as you look at the crowd with a sense of hunger in your eyes.

Mary gets ahold of Elias’ tie, but he quickly removes her grip from him—without even breaking eye contact with you. He knows she’s interested in spending the rest of the night with him; maybe in hopes of rekindling an old flame.

But how could Elias be interested in another woman when his woman—his sugar—was looking at him so deliciously.

You grin slyly at him, biting your bottom lip before licking your teeth.

Pale, pale moon, pale, pale moon

“I wanna scream,” Pearline sings, as you mouth the three words to Elias.

Three little words that have Elias fucking mesmerized, hypnotized even. You have him in a trance, right where you want him, and you both know it.

Elias wishfully thinks that the pick up in your breathing isn’t just from all the dancing you’ve been doing tonight. He bites his lip at the thoughts running through his mind.

Mary can’t even say that she recognizes the look that Elias gives you, for she has never been on the receiving end like you have been. Her frustration and jealousy boils over, and she eventually huffs before walking away from Elias, and out of the juke joint.

Elias doesn’t mind one bit, and he sure as hell doesn’t when the song finishes and you hug Pearline with excitement as the joint nearly turns upside down. You’re jumping up and down and Elias can’t help but smile til his cheeks hurt.

Elias feels a hand slap somewhat roughly on his shoulder. He knows good and well it’s his brother, with or without the wave of tobacco radiating.

“Came out here after the game finished, saw the way she was lookin’ at’cha, too.” Elijah grumbles.

“Breathtakin’, ain’t she?” Elias remarks breathily, not even turning to his brother—keeping his sights on you, as you hug Slim and the rest of the instrument players.

“Not ‘bout how I feel, ‘s ‘bout how you feel,” Elijah sighs. This makes Elias turn towards his brother.

“Don’t know what’chu waitin’ on, already been years,” Elijah then pauses before continuing, “Don’t be surprised when somebody see what’chu see.” Elijah trails off, almost ominously, and nods his head in your direction.

Elias follows his twin’s trail of sight and spots you: talking to a man he ain’t even seen before. You were beaming, your hair a little frizzed up by the humidity, your lipgloss smudged a little onto your shimmering skin.

Speaking of your lipgloss—whoever you’re talking to decided to rub his finger below your lip to wipe it away. Right now, Elias’ demeanor resembles the snake him and his brother killed earlier: cold and unmoving.

You glance around the sea of bodies, and Elias takes this as a sign. He starts to walk up to you, but not before having to mumble several ‘excuse me’s while side-stepping quite a few people—who seem to not be able to hold their liquor.

He finally reaches you, and he gets a glimpse of you over the guy’s shoulder, who has no idea he’s even there.

“We got a problem?” Elias murmurs, making the stranger nearly jump out of his skin.

“N-nah man,” the man chuckles awkwardly as he faces Elias.

“I reckon we do, since y’talkin’ to my lady,” Elias replies, sizing him up as he takes a step closer to him. The man takes a step back in return.

“I ain’t know, I-I’m sorry, Stack,” the man trembles meekly. Elias only hums. The man glances between the two of you before making himself scarce.

Elias stays in the same spot for a beat, before turning and giving you a look that says let’s go, before walking towards one of the back rooms of the joint. You hesitate, before inching behind him.

“So I’m y’lady now?” You don’t bother to tone down the sass in your voice.

“‘S what I said, ain’t it?” he mumbles, not even looking at you.

You scoff, “Yeah, well, y’got a funny way a’ showin’ it.”

Elias pulls you into a dimly lit room and finally faces you as you stand before him. “What’s that s’possed to mean?”

You narrow your eyes at him before speaking. “Means I saw you messin’ with ole Mary.”

“She don’t mean nun to me,” Elias guaffs. “Why d’ya think she left already?”

You roll your eyes and begin to head out the door you just came from. You’re not sure where this attitude just came from, in all honesty. The moment your eyes met him while you were on stage, it felt as if everything else had faded away, and it was just the two of you.

Maybe it was the irritation caused by Mary that left you in a sour mood now, you’re not sure. You know it won’t be beneficial to you nor Elias in this moment, but you can’t help it.

Elias grabs your wrist before you can get too far away from him.

“She ain’t nun, y’hear?” If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he almost sounded desperate. You stay quiet.

“Asked you a question, sugar. ‘N with that attitude of yours, I ain’t fixin’ to repeat myself.” His lips ghost the shell of your ear as he speaks, and heat twinges through your stomach. Elias seems to take notice of the subtle switch in your demeanor; he smirks and his chocolate brown irises darken even further.

“I…I don’t believe you,” You almost whisper, but still meet his gaze.

Almost immediately, he responds with, “What I got to do to convince you, baby?” Elias matches your tone, but there’s still a hint of assertiveness conveyed through his words.

You don’t speak—it’s almost like you couldn’t, but you release your wrist from his grasp gently.

Elias’ jaw clenched slightly, but you still spot it. He looks as if he’s pondering his next words.

“‘S not makin’ sense, darlin’. I mean, you were acting like a whore on stage, now you don’t want me to touch you?” He cocks his head at you and your lips part—like it was reflex, and maybe it was. Elias clicks his tongue.

Your breath picks up, and if your mind weren’t turning fuzzy, you would’ve chided yourself for making a fool out of yourself in front of a man—Elias at that.

The man you’ve yearned for longer than you can even remember.

“I ain’t no whore,” you speak, finally regaining your senses.

“That right, sugar?” You can feel Elias’ breath on your heated face, and all you can do is nod in return.

“Y’wanna know what I think?” Before you can answer the question Elias poses, he murmurs lowly, “I think that deep down….You are a whore—and you needa be fucked like one.”

Despite the vulgarity of his words, the way that Elias places his palm across your cheek is soft—loving, even.

You press your thighs together through your dress unconsciously, desperately seeking even an ounce of friction to cool the impending heat between your legs.

Elias takes the hand that rested upon your cheek and moved it to the stiff rim lock that resided on the door’s surface.

Thank god—You’d hate for the likes of someone such as Sammie barging in and being witness to sin hotter than the Mississippi sun.

Elias then starts to walk you back to the table that remained bare in the dingy-lit room, removing his suit jacket and vest, followed by his tie. The backs of your knees meet the edge of the firm table, making you stumble just a bit. Elias takes it upon himself to lay you down onto the table.

You rest on your elbows as you look up at the six-foot-something man in front of you, and you can’t help but swoon. His beating eyes look down at you lustfully—almost as if he were a predator, and you his prey.

It made you weak.

Weak at the hands of a man you’d been waiting on while he had the time of his life in Chicago, with all sorts of Italian customs. Your actions are beyond halfwitted, but you make no effort to straighten yourself out anymore.

Elias takes his warm hands and spreads your knees with ease after unbuttoning his shirt, making you yelp involuntarily at the near-abrasiveness. He licks his grillz and lets out a short, deep chuckle; you feel it vibrate your bones, while he aligns himself so that almost he’s eye-level with your warm core.

“Elias, wait—“ You whimper meekly,

He hums disapprovingly, letting out a firm ‘mm-mmn’. He rips his gaze from your thighs to your eyes, “Been waitin’ for years, sugar, not sure if I can any longer.” He repositions his hands, lifting your dress and hitching it up to your upper thighs, nearly to your pelvic bone.

Elias massages your thighs with an iron grip, it’s not yet rough, but not exactly gentle either. His switch between the two is making your mind reel.

He kisses up from your knee almost to where your dress bunches up as he removes his button-up, leaving him in his undershirt. He then says, “…So, m’sorry if I lose m’manners,” he breathes hotly against your skin, “But I don’t think I can live without destroying this pussy for a minute longer.” He damn near groans.

His mouth hovers above your clothed cunt—he purposely breathes in a way that makes you squirm at the feeling you’re unable to run from. As you shudder and tilt your head back, you suddenly hear a rip and you feel a gust of air.

You gasp and look down, where you’re met with Elias looking up at you cheekily, with one half of your panties in his mouth, and the other in his hand.

“‘Lias!” You exclaim.

Elias feigns innocence, “Told ya I ain’t mean no harm.” He then averts his focus to your legs, and he leaves a kiss to your mound.

“Y’not gon let me freshen up, will ya?” You ask quietly, already knowing the answer.

Instead of answering, Elias takes his tongue and trails it from your hole to your clitoris, and you puff out the air you didn’t know you were holding in.

Elias seems to enjoy your reaction, for he then gives you another long lick.

And another,

and another,

and you guessed it, another.

You press your lips together, muting your sounds, and Elias ‘tsk’s at the sight.

He nips a bit of the skin next to your lips, making you choke on your own spit. “Don’t like how quiet you’re bein’.” Elias reprimands you.

“Stop t-teasin’ then,” You manage to huff.

Elias chuckles in disbelief, “Wanted to be gentle, but y’makin’ it hard,” he then lifts you up from the table, and places his back where you once laid. He hooks your legs over the sides of his head, your pussy now inches away from his plump, shining lips.

Elias’ typical, million-dollar smirk is back on his face, but there’s something more sinister behind it—your legs would’ve buckled if he weren’t holding them.

“You’re a whore, jus’ like I said y’were.” His southern drawl makes your stomach twist in knots, despite the familiarity. Before you could get a word out, Elias placed you onto his face.

You mewl at the feeling of his tongue swirling around anywhere, and everywhere.

Your clit, your lips—it was almost as if he were starving.

There was no rhythm, no harmony and contentment, just the actions of a man on a mission.

A mission to make you scream louder than the birds on your farm.

Then, abruptly, Elias leaves a small, yet firm slap to your clit. “Admit it,” he says between licks. “Admit that you’re a whore.” He leaves another slap.

You don’t respond, too caught up in both the pain and pleasure. Your head hangs back and your eyes are clenched shut, and Elias grows impatient.

He removes his mouth from you with a ‘pop’ and almost snarls at you, “Thought I told ya Ion like repeatin’ myself.” He slaps your clit again, this time with more force.

“Okay—Okay! I was bein’ a whore tonight, ‘m sorry!” You cry out as your back arches.

Elias starts to lower you towards his grinning face, and you shiver at the feeling of his cold grillz.

Instead of teasing kitten-licks, Elias sucks at your slit and lets his tongue roam freely, without a care in the world. You writhe and whine on top of him, your body bending back and creating a dull aching sensation.

His advances are relentless, and you have no chances of escaping his grasp; he readjusts his grip as soon as he feels you start to slip away from him. You don’t know whether to clench around his tongue as he fucks you with it, or to cry–you end up doing both, and this continues on for who knows how long.

You’ve stopped counting the number of orgasms you’ve had after the second one–you think–but you think Elias has been keeping track. He’s muttered ‘jus’ one more, sugar’ maybe three times now, and you don’t know how many you have left in you at this point.

After what feels like hours, Elias finally lifts your hips up, allowing you to slide down and straddle his hips with your head resting upon his chest.

The beating sound of his steady heart fills your ear, and you try to match your breathing with Elias’. You feel a vibration as he shakes with laughter. You slightly drag your head up just enough to peek at his face, and he looks down at you with amusement.

“We ain’t done, not yet, peach,” he chuckles breathily at the wave of surprise that washes over your face.

You fumble with your words, “What d’ya mean? ‘L-Lias, I-I’m spent!” You continue to tremble in his arms.

“Y’still talkin’, ain’t ya, sugar?” He scoffs, it’s antagonizing. And before you can utter anything else, Elias flips you around onto the table, so you now lay with your back on the wood once again. Your dress rides down a tad at the sudden movement, and Elias holds your back, lifting you so that he can push your dress up past your breasts.

Elias lowers your back, before leaning peck your nipples. You bite your lip, but quickly let out a moan once he blows air onto your nipples, watching almost menacingly as they harden. One hand tweaks one of your nipples, as the other drags down your rib cage.

His hot, glistening tongue swishes around your tits, as he leaves sloppy, open-mouthed kisses to your skin.

He sucks harshly as you whimper beneath him. One of his hands leaves your body and goes down to his slacks, he unbuttons them with ease without even looking, as he continues to leave hickies on your chest.

He untucks himself from his underwear, and you can’t help but buck towards his cock in anticipation.

“Easy, girl. You’ll get it when ya prove y’deserve it,” Elias mocks, you whine in response.

“I deserve it, more than anybody else–y’know that, ‘Lias,” You plead in hopes of him giving you what you want.

“That right, baby? All this yours, nobody else's?” He challenges, starting to stroke his length.

You squeeze your eyelids together, almost as if you were personally pained by the question.

“Damn right,” You huff as you look at him with a sudden wave of fire blazing through your eyes. Elias scoffs with a mixture of incredulity and mirth.

“Yeah, baby–always been yours. Glad ya finally came to y’senses.” And with that, Elias pushes inside of you, and you let out a broken gasp.

Elias quickly finds his pace as he thrusts in and out of you rapidly. He nearly pulls entirely out of your dripping cunt–and you think he’s going to tease you again, but he then slams back into you roughly, making you cry out as your back arches into him.

You’re now chest-to-chest with Elias as he continues to pump into you with little regard to your overstimulation. The contact of skin makes your toes curl in your heels. Elias grunts at the feeling of you clamping down on his cock and bites forcibly at the flesh of your neck.

Elias groans–almost as if fucking you were the key to heaven’s gates. He takes his large palm and pushes it down onto your torso, making your sweating body meet the barely-covered, rumbling wood.

You weep helplessly and squirm as he keeps you pressed against the shaking table.

“Mmnf–”Lias! Please!” You cry yet again, but without knowing the reason behind it this time.

He doesn’t respond to your watery blabbering, instead putting your legs on either side of his shoulders. Elias slowly–and almost lovingly–kisses your ankle, before unclasping the latch of your heel and sliding it off of your foot, letting it hit the floor with a thump that neither of you seem to catch through the sounds of your bodies meeting.

You two damn-near become one.

He repeats his actions on your other leg, but this time he kisses from your calf to your ankle before removing your heel and letting it meet the ground with your matching one.

His hand grips at the ankle he just kissed, using it as if it were the only thing keeping him grounded; like an anchor. He then sucks and nips at your leg, quickly marking just above your ankle with a red bruise, which you know will be purple by the time the sun rises for morning.

You hiss when he bites a little too roughly, and he shows his sympathy by licking at the irritated skin, soothing the tender ache.

“That feel good, darlin’? Tell “Lias how much y’love it, peach, c’mon,” Elias coos, lifting his shirt up so he can get a proper view of your sex.

You babble through sobs intelligibly, mewling something along the lines of ‘so so good, ‘Lias!’—at least that’s what Elias makes of it.

“Can’t hear ya, baby. Ya gotta–fuck! Ya gotta speak a ‘lil louder f’me, hm?” Elias manages to speak through his panting and groaning. You bawl, hot tears dripping from your cheeks down to your chin.

“It feels so good–oh god—‘Lias!” You shriek, not caring about the volume of your crying. “Please don’t stop! Please, please, please–” You ramble with a slur.

If Elias ever felt guilty at the way he man-handling you, seeing your fucked-out expression made all his worries wash away at the sight of you: tongue hanging out, as your tears dribble into your open mouth.

Your panting grows more frantic, little ‘uh-uh-uh’s being let out more frequently as you feel another orgasm course through your veins. “‘Lias—cummin’! S-sh-it, I-I’m cummin’!”

Elias firmly plants his feet on the floor, repositioning the arm on your stomach onto your other leg so that he can fuck you even deeper–deep enough to create a slight bulge in your stomach with his throbbing tip. “Yeah, that’s it. Fall apart on this dick, y’know y’want to, sugar. Been dreamin’ ‘bout it f’years, huh?” He taunts.

You try to answer him, honestly! But he’s hitting your cervix just right and his abs rub against the backs of your thighs–it’s too much.

Elias thought you’ve learned by now that he doesn’t take silence for an answer, so to remind you, he gives your spent cunt a more forceful slap than before.

“Fuck—Yes! A-always been wantin’ you, ‘Lias,” you wail. “I-I never let nobody touch me! Nobody but you!” You exclaim without thinking.

This fuels Elias to quicken his pace; he almost fucking growls at your words, and he tightens your legs around himself–right now, as he feels himself getting closer and closer to climaxing, he has no plans on pulling out.

He continues to heave words of encouragement as fucks you ruthlessly through your orgasm.

You moan and blabber as your vision turns white, and your ears start to ring. Your toes curl and flex, and your nails scratch at the table, hands desperate for something to hold. Your voice then gives out, as your tongue lolls out of your mouth yet again.

Elias gives you a few more earth-stattering thrusts, before his seed fills your puffy, aching hole; the guttural groan that leaves his throat ups in pitch–nearly turning into a whimper.

He pumps his cum into you once more, before releasing your legs from his grip and laying down on top of you. As he half-lays-half-stands against the table, he feels as if a cold bucket of water was dumped onto him.

He can no longer focus on the tingling feeling that shoots from his skull to his toes, but now on the fact that he was the first man you’ve been with.

You spent your first time with him–in a rickety building he bought from a Klan member, on an even dingier table.

Elias then taps your face, just enough to get you to come back to your senses. You open your eyes with a lazy grin at the feeling of his seed mixed with yours, but when you’re met with his panicky expression, you quickly push yourself up–to the best of your ability.

“What? Wha’s wrong, ‘Lias?” You question worrisomely.

He allows himself to catch his breath before speaking, “Y’serious?” It’s all that he says.

You furrow your brows and tilt your head at him, “Bout what? Y’scarin’ me, Elias,” you chuckle awkwardly.

Had you said something you shouldn’t have?

A million thoughts run rampant throughout your mind.

“‘Bout all this,” he flails his hand, motioning to where your bodies had just met. “Was that really ya first time?” He speaks loudly, and you feel mortified.

Your breath catches in your throat. You confirm his worries, your voice softer than a freshly picked feather, “Yes.”

Elias takes a step back, and it takes everything in you not to reach out for him. Instead, you sit up fully and push your dress back down to your thighs. You twiddle your thumbs idly, seeking for even an ounce of comfort as Elias pushes his shirt back down and tucks himself back into his boxers after wiping himself off with a rag. Despite his glowering, he hands you a rag so that you can wipe away the slick from between your thighs.

Did he regret spending the night with you? Did he find the fact that you remained a virgin because of him embarrassing?

“Why you ain’t tell me, girl?” He exclaims, “I wouldn’t have said and done all that foolishness if I knew you ain't never been with a man before!”

You feel your soul come back into your body. “You would’ve been all sweet with me? That whatcha sayin’, ‘Lias?” You can’t help but giggle.

“Ain’t nothin’ funny, woman! I was all rough with you ‘n–” You cut him off with a kiss to his lips, wrapping your legs around his hips and pulling him closer to you. You fold your arms around his neck, and you feel his hands drift down to your waist and squeeze lightly. Your nose nudges his, his breath fans your face as yours does his.

You break the kiss when you feel yourself losing your breath, and you gaze at Elias lovingly.

“You were perfect, I couldn’t imagine it any other way,” you whisper.

“Well for starters, could've gotten you a bed in the house ‘stead of a table in this dark ass room,” Elias grumbles.

You grin, “I think the lightin’ was just fine. Added ambience ‘n all that.” Elias pouts, and you peck his lips.

“I don’t care ‘bout the details, “Lias. Long as it was with you.” Your tone is as sweet as the finest honey in Clarksdale, and it pulls on Elias’ heartstrings.

“Y’really waited all these years….For me?” He whispers.

“Course I did, couldn’t imagine bein’ with anybody else.” You speak just as softly. You recognize the guilt that crosses his face, despite his best efforts to mask it with his bravado. “Don’t feel guilty, please. I don’t blame you for nun.” You caress his hair. Silence fills the room as Elias deciphers what to say, you just hold him tenderly until he’s ready.

“I-I love ya, more than y’know, sugar…” He trails off before finishing his sentence, “I jus’ want ya to know that. I have since we was young.” He looks at you with adoration and love in his eyes.

“I love you too, Elias Moore. Have since you stood up to my daddy on his farm f’me when we was seven.”

He smiles, but it’s tight lipped, making you frown. “Jus’ wish I could’ve admitted it sooner. Then this would’ve went down differently—would’ve been better.” He sulks.

You take your thumb and index finger and pluck his lips, making him shout ‘hey!’ with a laugh.

“Stop beatin’ y’self up, Elias. I told you, I’m perfectly happy here, right now. Ain’t nun gon’ change that a bit.” You scold him.

“If ya stop all that moppin’, I’ll let ya try again tomorrow, however y’want,” you giggle mischievously. Elias’ eyes light up almost immediately, the way he perks up reminds you of a puppy that was just given a treat.

Elias roars with laughter and squeezes you, before lowering you back down onto the table, he presses nearly all of his weight onto you.

You squeal and cackle as he tickles your sides, “‘Lias!”

You lay wrapped up with Elias, you felt as if you could lay there forever, and honestly in this moment, you wanted to.

Clarity and revelations do the body good.

Everything was good.

Until you heard a commotion on the other side of the door.

You don’t notice it right away; when you first step through the door, cheeks flushed from the laughter still echoing off your lips, heels clicking gently on the hardwood. Not even when Michael’s deep voice calls out a casual, “Hey baby,” from somewhere in the kitchen, where you hear the gentle clink of ice settling in lowball glasses.

It’s subtle at first… but then it hits you.

Not like a slap. No. More like a slow drag of silk along the skin, warm and smoky, curling through the air and pulling. There’s a richness to it, something dark and magnetic beneath the top note you can’t quite place. Something downright sinful and so overwhelming that your knees almost buckle.

You blink once, then again, that’ll settle whatever the fuck your body just did in response to that scent.

That’s new.

Your friends trail in behind you with the easy chaos of post-dinner tipsiness, none of them seeming to notice the way your breath just stalled in your throat.

You try to shake it off. Try to stay cool. “Y’all can make yourselves at home,” you call over your shoulder, forcing a little laugh into your voice, even as your spine straightens and your pulse stutters like it just skipped a beat. “I think he made drinks.”

Michael rounds the corner from the kitchen just then, glass in hand, sleeves pushed up, beard shaped to perfection, and…oh, hell. You feel it all the way down.

Your clit pulses on instinct.

It doesn’t even matter what he’s wearing — just a fitted black tee and sweats that cling to the curve of his hips — but your whole body sways slightly like you’re being pulled forward on a leash. Your eyes flicker up to meet his and of course, he fucking knows.

One side of his mouth twitches, a barely-there smirk, cocky and warm and knowing. And that’s when you realize this man has set you up.

“You change your cologne?” you ask lightly, clearing your throat, head tilted like you’re not already half-feral and shifting your weight just so to quiet the throb between your thighs.

“Mmhm.” He sips his drink and leans a shoulder against the wall like he’s not wreaking absolute havoc on your body just by standing there. “Came today. Figured I’d try it while you were out. See how it settles.”

Oh, it’s settling alright. Right in your bloodstream. Against your G-spot. In your brain stem.

But you just nod, dragging your gaze away and making your way to the couch. “It’s nice. Real…grown.” You shrug. “Sophisticated.”

Tati throws herself dramatically into a chair. “Girl, you good? You got quiet.”

“Yeah,” you lie, tucking your legs under yourself as if you’re not soaking through your panties. “Just tired.”

Except you’re not. You’re overstimulated, your nerve endings are singing, and all because that damn cologne is clouding every corner of your brain.

Lex is halfway through asking about dessert when you cut her off with a sweet smile and a stretch. “Actually, y’all, I might call it early. Got a long day tomorrow. And…Michael looks like he wants some one-on-one time.”

Michael blinks once, slow. He doesn’t say a word. Just watches.

Tati squints at you. “You just said we could stay for a nightcap.”

You nod. “I did. But then my man hit me with that scent and now I need y’all to leave.”

Kris cackles. “I knew it. I knew you looked like you were about to slide down the wall.”

But you’re already on your feet, ushering them up, tossing them their purses with one hand and opening the door with the other.

“Love y’all. Text me when you’re at the hotel. Don’t let the door hit you. Kisses all around.”

The second it shuts behind them, silence blankets the space like a heavy curtain.

Michael’s still standing there, barely moving, watching you with that unreadable expression. His glass is still half-full.

You breathe in again and it practically burns through your chest. “What is that?”

He smiles slow, lazy, like a man with all the time in the world. “Just something new.”

“It’s evil,” you mutter, already walking toward him. “It’s a weapon. You bought that cologne just to ruin my life.”

“Maybe.” He shrugs. “You like it?”

Your hand slides up the front of his chest, fingers curling in the collar of his shirt. Your voice dips to a whisper, trembling and low. “I’m about to get on my knees just to breathe you in properly.”

Michael hums, glass forgotten as his hands find your waist. “Then do it.”

Your mouth opens… Closes… Then opens again. No sound comes out at first because you’re too busy reeling, spinning, from the way he smells, the heat of his chest under your palm, the smirk playing on his lips like he’s got you strung up on puppet strings.

“I’m not playin’ with you tonight, Kari,” you mumble, fingers balling into fists. “I’m serious.”

“You think I’m playin’?”

His voice is low and heavy, dragging across your skin like velvet soaked in bourbon. And he smells unholy. Expensive, deep, warm… like the kind of scent that belongs in sin and silk sheets and locked doors.

You tug him down by his collar, just enough to brush your lips over his jaw. Just a taste, enough to let it burn across your tongue.

“Bedroom,” you breathe against his skin.

He pulls back, eyes dark with something smug, something territorial. “Already?”

“I told the girls I was tired, remember?”

Michael’s fingers slip down your waist. “You don’t look like you’re tired yet.”

You don’t even feel your feet move upstairs, every thought clouded by that fucking cologne. Your back hits the bedroom door and he follows like a storm, drinking glasses long forgotten, his scent soaking the air.

“Take it off,” you whisper.

He tilts his head. “Take what off?”

“That shirt. Before I rip it.”

Michael raises a brow like is that a threat or a promise, but obliges. He peels it slowly, arms flexing, abs catching the warm light from the hallway, and tosses the shirt somewhere over your shoulder.

You don’t even look where it lands — you’re too busy licking your lips.

You step forward, hands dragging down his torso, nose grazing his chest just to inhale again. You moan without meaning to, like a reflex, like your body can’t even process how feral this cologne has made you.

“I can’t think,” you whisper, dragging your lips down the center of his chest, tongue flicking against his sternum. “It’s in my fucking brain.”

He watches you drop to your knees, burying your face in his abdomen and just breathing.

When you look up, pupils blown, hands trembling as they find the waistband of his sweats, your voice is hoarse with greed. “Please let me suck your dick.”

Michael’s jaw flexes. He nods once, low, controlled. “C’mon then.”

You drag his sweats down with shaky fingers, lips parted, moaning again when the scent deepens and mixes with his skin and his sweat and the weight of him in your palm. You don’t even bring your mouth to him yet; just stroke him slowly, twisting at the tip, watching him throb in your hand while you press your nose right against the crease of his thigh and whimper.

“You’re outta your mind,” he mutters, voice gone gravel-thick. “You just needed a reason, huh?”

You mumble out a pitiful “mhm”, licking a stripe along the side of his shaft.

Michael groans loud, fist bracing the wall above your head as your mouth stretches around him, lips shaking as you sink down slow, greedy, nose brushing his stomach. You hum and moan around him, lost to it. Not just sucking him off, but like you’re trying to breathe him in, swallow his soul, imprint him in your fucking lungs.

And that damn cologne is making it worse.

Michael’s hips twitch. His eyes roll back. He’s trying to talk but it’s coming out broken. “You’re gonna make me — fuck, baby — you want me to cum already?”

You nod with his dick in your throat, gagging around him.

You don’t stop. Not even when spit is dripping from your chin, puddling into the fabric of your dress. Not even when he’s panting above you, whispering curses, calloused hands fisted in your hair.

You suck harder, sinking onto him deeper, as if that were possible, clamoring to feel him in your sternum.

He finally yanks you off by the back of your head, thumb swiping your soaked bottom lip, eyes wild. “You’re not tired yet?”

You shake your head. “I don’t even need sleep anymore.”

He laughs hard, utterly breathless. “Oh you’re gone,” he says, voice coated in disbelief. “You’re gone. What the fuck did that cologne do to you?”

You stand then, hand wrapping around his wrist. You tug at his hand, crawling back toward the bed.

Michael doesn’t even let you settle all the way onto the bed.

You crawl back, trying to catch your breath, but the scent of his cologne follows you like smoke. Still clinging to his skin, his breath, the air around you. You try to focus, try to speak, but it’s like your brain is underwater and all you can feel is want.

“On your back,” he orders, voice low and mean now. “Legs up.”

You flinch at the tone of his command but obey anyway.

“Good girl,” he groans as you scramble to get your outfit off — hands fumbling, tugging the thin straps of your dress down your shoulders while your breath saws uneven in your chest. “You wore this little dress out with the girls like I wasn’t gonna see it? Hm? Titties just out and on display.”

“I-I didn’t think—”

He cuts you off with a look. “Don’t lie to me.”

You freeze. Then whisper, “I wanted you to see.”

He smirks. “Yeah? You wanted me hard all day, waiting for you to get home, just so I could take you apart?”

You nod helplessly, already spreading your legs for him, already dripping.

Michael drops to his knees at the edge of the bed and pulls you down toward him with one strong arm hooked behind your thighs. His face dips low and that scent rolls off his neck again, thick and concentrated now, and it wrecks you.

Your whole body jolts.

“I’ve had you this worked up since you walked in the door. Can’t even think straight, can you?”

“No,” you gasp, fingers tangling in the sheets as his tongue licks a slow stripe from your opening to your clit. “Michael—fuck—”

He moans into you like he’s drunk off the taste, spitting and lapping and spreading your lips with his thumbs and goes deeper, tongue fucking you slow and mean, letting you grind against his face like he’s got nowhere else to be.

“Nah. Don’t you run from it.” He grunts against your clit, “Take it like a good girl. Smell my cologne while I eat this pretty pussy.”

He reaches up, palms your throat while he eats you out, squeezes just enough to make your head buzz and your eyes roll. You start to shake, thighs clenching around his ears, and he just laughs into your pussy like the sick bastard he is.

“Go ahead. Black out if you want to.”

You do… just for a second. The pleasure spikes white-hot and your scream punches straight from your chest before your body sags, twitching. You barely register him climbing onto the bed, yanking your hips up, lining himself up behind you.

“You’re not done.” He demands like a punishment. And then he eases in with a stroke that knocks the breath from your lungs and leaves your eyes wide, mouth open, silent.

“Where’s all that noise now?” he hisses into your ear. “You were begging to get ruined. What happened?”

He fucks into you hard and mean, his hips slapping against your ass. The other wraps in your hair, jerking your head so he can spit into your open mouth, his own lips brushing your cheek. “Swallow it.”

You do, fully incoherent now, mewling, clawing at the sheets.

His cologne is in your nose, your tongue, your brain. It’s like it seeped under your skin and now you’re his, nothing but nerves and gasps and need.

He grabs your jaw, tilting your head so you’re forced to look at him. “Say thank you.”

You choke out, “Th-thank you—fuck, Daddy—thank you.”

Michael growls out a real, chest-deep sound. He fucks you so hard the bed creaks, the headboard slamming angrily against the wall. You yelp, but he doesn’t stop. He adjusts, hikes your hips up higher, and goes deeper.

“Open your mouth,” he pants. “Let me see how far gone you are.”

Your tongue falls out, drool smeared across your chin. You can’t even form words.

He pulls out, flips you over, and slides back in from behind — his hand around your throat again, forcing you to bow your back, the scent of him surrounding you like a drug. “There she is. Lemme tire that pussy out.”

You black out again when you cum, your vision goes white. Your hands fist the sheets, gripping like you’ll fall off the planet if you let go.

And even after, when he kisses you through your tears and lays you flat against the torn sheets, you’re still shaking. Still whining for him, even as your body tries to shut down from overstimulation.

Michael brushes your hair back, chuckles low, and presses a kiss to your temple.

“You’re gonna ask what it was tomorrow,” he murmurs. “You’re gonna ask what cologne this is like it wasn’t laced with crack.”

You hum weakly, lips parted, breath gone. “I’m gonna burn every other bottle you own.”

He grins. “Good.”

—

Sunlight slips through the curtains in gold ribbons, warming the edge of the duvet, filtering across tangled limbs and damp sheets that still smell like sex and sweat and him.

You don’t want to move.

Your body is fully wrecked. Every inch of you aches in the best, filthiest way, like you’ve been broken open and rearranged. Your legs are tangled with Michael’s beneath the covers, and his hand is still resting on the curve of your ass, like he fell asleep claiming it.

He stirs first, nuzzling into your neck, and presses a soft kiss to your jaw like last night didn’t happen. Like he didn’t just do deeply unspeakable things to you with his scent as the weapon of choice. “You awake?” he rasps, voice heavy with sleep.

You hum. “Barely.”

He grins into your skin. “You good?”

“Can’t feel my legs.”

Another kiss. Smug. “So that’s a yes.”

You groan as he rolls out of bed, stretching those ridiculous arms overhead before disappearing into the bathroom. You hear the shower turn on, the sound of water cascading onto tile. For a second, you think about moving.

But your bones are liquid.

Still, the promise of hot water and his hands massaging lotion onto your skin pulls you upright with a hiss. You pad into the bathroom slowly, and he looks over his shoulder when you open the glass door.

“Morning, pretty girl,” he says, pulling you in. “Still feral?”

You grumble. “I hate you.”

“No you don’t.”

And he’s smiling bright. Like he didn’t fuck you senseless, proud of the damage he inflicted. And truly, you’d let him get away with it because his hands are so gentle right now. Rinsing you off and kissing your shoulder while steam wraps around both of you like silk.

By the time you’re dried off and moisturized, dressed in something cute and brunch-worthy, your muscles are a little looser, your brain a little less scrambled. He’s pulling on jeans, a white tee, his watch. You sit at the edge of the bed slipping on your sandals when you hear the faint pssst-pssst.

You freeze in your tracks.

Michael turns, confused. “What?”

Your eyes narrow, sniffing once, then again. And that same warm, smoky, deliciously unholy scent curls under your nose and claws its way through your chest.

You actually gasp.

He raises a brow. “What’s your problem?”

“My—” You stand abruptly. “You’re my problem.”

Michael stares. “What the hell did I do?”

“You sprayed that cologne again!”

“…yeah? And?”

You march up to him, completely unhinged. “You and that cologne and the way you just…exist. You’re banned from wearing that unless I have a clear schedule and a safe word.”

Michael blinks, then smirks. “You mean the cologne that made you black out last night?”

You whimper. “Don’t talk about it.”

“I shouldn’t talk about how you were shaking on my face?”

You throw your head back and groan. “Oh my god, Michael—”

“Or the way you gave me head like you were addicted to my—”

“Sir!”

He laughs and wraps his arms around you, pulling you close until your nose is in the curve of his neck. You inhale on instinct and moan. Audibly.

“Jesus Christ,” you whisper against his skin. “I’m gonna hump your leg like a dog.”

“We’re going to brunch.”

“Well I’m not gonna make it to brunch!”

Michael leans back just enough to look at you, smug and smugger. “You want me to change?”

You pause. “Yes.”

He starts walking toward the closet. “Okay.”

“Wait. No,” you whimper, following him. “Actually… y’know what? Yeah. No. Don’t.”

He cackles. “So which is it?”

“I hate you.”

“You said that already.”

“And I meant it.”

He kisses your forehead and turns to grab his wallet and keys, ushering you downstairs. “You gonna act normal at brunch or am I gonna have to carry you out?”

You narrow your eyes. “Don’t tempt me.”

Michael opens the door for you, still smirking stupidly as you walk by. “I wore this for you, baby.”

You follow him out with a huff, muttering under your breath. “I hope you get jumped by a pack of women who think you’re single.”

He just laughs.

——

The brunch spot is warm and buzzing, all soft sunlight and the low clatter of plates. You should be relaxed. The restaurant’s full of good vibes, mimosas, and waffles. But instead… you’re vibrating in your seat like a bottle of shaken soda. Barely capped and about to burst.

Michael’s sitting next to you in the booth instead of across, because he’s annoying like that and certainly wants you to suffer, and the second his thigh brushes yours, you damn near jump out of your seat.

He notices. “Oh, we're still sensitive this morning?” he murmurs, smirking over the rim of his water glass.

You glare at him. “Don’t talk to me.”

“I’m just existing, having a nice brunch with my lady,” he replies smoothly, cutting into his chicken and waffles like he’s not a walking, smirking, scented crime against humanity. “You did say you didn’t want me to change.”

You look at him.. like, really look at him.

Beard clean, brows perfect and resting contentedly as he chews slow. He wets his lips, licking syrup off the corner of his mouth because he knows you’re watching.

And he smells so fucking good.

That cologne is in your lungs, winding around your spine. Every time he shifts, it stirs the air and you catch another wave of it — and it’s like brown liquor in the back of a velvet-draped lounge.

You cross your legs under the table. Tight.

Michael notices that too. “Oh,” he says, feigning surprise. “We crossed the legs. That’s strike one.”

You stab your fork into your potatoes.

He leans in close enough for you to hear him exhale through his nose. Close enough for the scent of his neck to sucker punch your ovaries again. You swear the air gets thicker when he speaks. “What’s wrong, mama?”

Your jaw clenches. “I’m gonna flip the fucking table.”

Michael hums in amusement. His hand finds your thigh under the table and rests there, his warm, intentional, thumb tracing lazy circles too close to dangerous territory.

“Mmhm,” he says. “I knew you weren’t tired.”

“Michael,” you hiss, but it comes out desperate. “Please stop.”

“Stop what?” He’s full-on teasing now, voice low and cruel and playful. That scent is driving a nail into the center of your body and twisting. You’re throbbing, clenching, borderline panting. You haven’t even touched your food.

“You don’t even realize what you’re doing,” you whisper.

“Oh honey,” He leans in until his lips brush the shell of your ear. “I know exactly what I’m doing.”

Your hands grip the edge of the table. You look down and exhale, trying to regulate your breath, trying to see straight.

Michael chuckles and sits back. “Eat your food, baby.”

Oh, but you can’t. You’re done for.

By the time the waiter comes to clear the plates, Michael’s finished his entire meal and your food is practically untouched. You’ve been squirming in silence, pressing your thighs together, biting your bottom lip until it’s red and swollen.

And he’s been enjoying every second. “You ready to go?” he asks sweetly, kissing your cheek.

You nod.

He tips well, slides out of the booth with an exaggerated stretch, then reaches for your hand. You grab it but don’t say a word until you’re out of the restaurant and halfway to the car.

Then you stop walking. “Get in the car,” you grunt out.

Michael blinks. “What?”

You grab his shirt and haul him close, voice shaking. “Get in the car, Michael. I’m not gonna make it to the house.”

His brows lift. “You tryna act up in public?”

“I will ride you on the sidewalk if I have to.”

Michael swallows. You see his jaw tick.

And then he grins. “Oh, so I’m the problem?”

“You’ve been the problem!” you whisper-shout, shoving him toward the car. “You did this to yourself.”

He unlocks the doors without breaking eye contact. “Backseat or passenger?”

You don’t answer. And you don’t even remember who opened the back door. Might’ve been him, might’ve been you.

Michael’s back hits the leather and you’re on him, straddling his thighs, grinding your hips down, clawing at his shirt like it personally offended you. The scent of that cologne is even stronger now, locked in the car with you, hot and swirling and obscene.

“You still smell like sex,” you hiss, dragging your tongue up his throat. “You still smell like last night.”

He groans, thick and low in your ear. “You didn’t get enough?”

“I couldn’t even get breakfast,” you snarl, yanking your panties to the side.

Michael laughs, but it dies on his tongue when you reach down, free his dick, and sink down on him in one long slide.

“Fuuuuck—” he grits out, grabbing your waist with both hands. “You still this wet for me?”

“You’re still wearing that fucking cologne,” you growl. “What the fuck did you expect?”

He watches your face, your eyes fluttering, your mouth falling open, then shifts, rocking up into you with a slow, deep roll of his hips.

“You wanted me to ruin you,” he murmurs, voice like molasses, like thunder. “Now look at you. Actin’ stupid and gettin’ fucked in a parking lot.”

You ride him like your life depends on it, like brunch was never an option, like his cologne is poison and the only antidote is taking his dick raw in the back of his car with the doors unlocked.

And it’s obscene — the wet and filthy slap of skin-on-skin, your moans, his cursing. The squeak of leather, windows fogging.

Horny ghosts and peeping Toms would be impressed.

Michael leans back just slightly and lets you grind on him faster, harder. He watches the way your nails dig into his shoulders. The way you pant when your clit catches just right. The way your body clings to his like you’ll never be full enough.

He unclasps your bra, exposing your tits. He takes your nipple in his mouth while his thumb finds your clit.

“You don’t even care where we are,” he mutters, tongue flicking. “You just needed it that bad?”

“Michael, shut the fuck up, I swear,” you gasp. “I’m fighting for my life right now.”

He chuckles through a moan and grips your ass, bouncing you harder.

You slap your palm against the window to steady yourself, forehead pressed to his, eyes rolling back. “Fuck! I hate you so fucking much.”

Michael snarls and snaps his hips up, dragging a scream out of you.

“Shitshitshit I’m gonna cum,” you whimper. “I’m gonna fucking die in this backseat.”

He fucks you through it, through the first orgasm and into another wave, like he’s trying to kill you with pleasure. His thumb never leaves your clit as he rubs ferocious circles into your skin. His mouth is on your throat, licking and sucking and biting, his scent everywhere, and your body is convulsing around him like a prayer.

You cum twice before he even finishes.

And when he does, it’s with a groan punched straight from his chest, hips jerking, arms locked around you so tight you can’t move. You feel him spill inside, thick and hot, and your eyes roll back like you’re possessed.

It’s silent after, save for the sound of your breath and the beat of your heart in your ears.

Michael drags his nose along your cheek, voice smug and syrupy. “Now you ready to go home?”

You blink, dazed and boneless. “…You still smell like it.”

He grins. “Want me to keep it on while you nap?”

“I want you to burn the bottle.”

He kisses your neck. “No you don’t.”

The car ride back is silent. Not the awkward kind, just the wrecked kind.

You’re stretched out in the passenger seat, thighs still trembling, panties missing (you think they’re somewhere in the backseat), your dress haphazardly tugged back into place like it’ll fool anyone.

It won’t.

Michael’s driving like a man on a mission, one hand on the wheel, the other resting low on your thigh, fingers trailing light and lazy patterns against your skin.

Every few seconds, he glances over at you, grinning. “You good?”

You scowl. “No. I’m still mad at you.”

“For what?”

“You ruined brunch.”

He shrugs. “You ruined brunch. I was minding my business.”

“You wore that demonic scent and then sat next to me like everything was fine!”

He smirks. “I was being sweet.”

“You instigated me!”

He squeezes your thigh. “You weren’t complaining twenty minutes ago.”

You go quiet. Because the memory is still fresh, his scent heavy in your lungs, his cum dripping down your thighs, your voice bouncing off the car windows as you begged him not to stop.

You glance at him, flushed. “The girls are gonna have a field day with this.”

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Most days your life is pretty simple, mundane and routine— go to class, go to work, and come home. Most people would look at your life and weep for more, but it’s perfect for you. You desire a simple life with peace— no partying, toxic relationships, or unnecessary drama.

This year you have branched out a bit in your classes and made a few friends, but nothing more than that.

The wind in New York has picked up with the temperature steadily dropping, definitely not the kind of weather that’s fit for office skirts and heels.

You dropped your cello off at your apartment and you wait outside to catch a cab. The streets are busy with people today, normally at this time they’re not as busy.

The scent of hot chocolate fills the air as people set up their stands outside for the upcoming holidays.

A cab pulls up to the sidewalk, waiting for you to get in.

You get in the car, adjusting in your seat.

“Where to?” The man asks while looking at you in the rear view mirror.

“Giordano law firm on fifth avenue.”

“Heard.” The man replies back with a nod.

You look out the window, staring at all of the Christmas decor that’s out. A certain part of it truly feels magical still as an adult.

Your cab ride takes about 40 minutes.

The security guards at the front door of the building greet you with a smile, one of them opening the doors for you.

The sound of your heels clicking echoes throughout the lobby.

You make your way to the elevator and press the button, just waiting for your stop— dreading the paperwork you’ll have to do today.

The bell dings and the doors open at the fifteenth floor, the receptionist waving at you as you walk into the office.

“Good afternoon!” You smile, waving as you walk past.

You walk into your office space, the door gently shutting behind you as you set your bags down and turn on your lamp.

The smell from your cinnamon candle that you lit days prior is still lingering.

Just as your computer starts to load up, your boss opens your door— peaking his head in.

“I sent over some files for you to look over, it’s for a new client I just accepted last minute.”

You turn towards him, your brows slightly furrowed.

He hangs his head in defeat. “I know, I know. Don’t kill me over it.”

“I’ll start looking it over, but I probably won’t be truly focused on it until tomorrow.”

He looks at his watch and bites his lip in fear.

“What?” You ask with your head tilted out of confusion.

“Actually, he’ll be here in an hour to discuss it with you..”

Your mouth drops in shock, “Tony..”

“I know, but he’s paying top dollar for us to represent him. You’ll get a raise for this too, I’ve already added it to your payroll.”

You turn back around, facing your computer and opening up your email.

“I’ll get to work on that.”

“Thank you so much! I knew I could depend on you.” He rants before shutting the door.

You scan through the email he sent—opening up all the documents and giving a quick glimpse through all of the information.

You pull out some of your sticky notes and jot down a few pivotal notes about what you noticed in the documents.

Time slips your mind as you're going over the information and printing out the paperwork.

Your office phone rings, it’s the receptionist letting you know that the client is here and waiting in conference room three.

“Shit.” You mumble.

You grab all of the paperwork and your sticky notes before leaving your office and heading to the conference room.

You walk into the room, still face deep into the paperwork and not looking up.

You sit down at the table, before glancing up.

You see two very handsome, identical men staring back at you.

You’d be lying if you said that it doesn’t catch you off guard, you stare blankly for a few seconds.

“Twins?” You ask, flipping through the papers.

“Nah, we cousins.” One of them jokes with a grin.

You let out a slight chuckle, you can appreciate the response.

“Which one of you is Elias Moore?”

The man sitting in front of you on the left nods his head.

You slide over a piece of paper and pen to him.

“That is the client contract that we have here. It just states that we expect total compliance and honesty from you as a client, if you cannot comply then we cannot adequately represent you— which gives us the legal right to drop you as a client.”

“It also tells you the retainer fee and how much he costs per hour..”

He signs the dotted line and passes the paper back to you.

You move it to the side and glance up at the other man beside him.

“What’s your name?”

He stares at you, his eyes slowly scanning every inch of your face.

“I’m Elijah, his brother and business partner.”

You nod, pulling off the cap of your pen to fill out a few of the pages.

“Are you part of the lawsuit?”

He shakes his head no.

“We also like to be called Stack and Smoke. I’m Stack and he’s Smoke” Stack chimes in.

You nod, but it’s definitely unlike anything you’ve heard of before.

“The paperwork says that you’re being sued for two million dollars, is that correct?”

He sighs, but nods his head.

“It says that you’re being sued for repudiation, in other words— you indicated that you’d abandon the project.”

Stack shrugs. “I mean, hell the motherfucker—“

Smoke nudges him, cutting him a look.

“My apologies for my language. He already told me that things were going wrong with the project, more money than usual needing to be dumped into it. So, yeah— I told him that we were pulling out.”

You write down his statements on the forms in front of you.

“Would you say that he didn’t hold up his end of the contract?”

“Yeah.” Smoke replies.

“How long was this project initially supposed to take?” You ask, looking up at both of them.

“Six months.” Stack replies.

“How long has it been as of today?”

“Twenty months.” Smoke hesitantly informs you.

You stop writing and stare at them— looking over your glasses as they sit on the bridge of your nose.

“Are you serious?”

“Yes ma’am.” Stack nods.

All you can do is shake your head as you write the information down.

“How long have you known the complainant?”

Stack takes the toothpick out of his mouth, “fifteen years.”

“Wow.. uh, that’s unfortunate that you ended up in this position.”

You finish jotting down a few more notes while the room is silent.

You glance at your watch on the table and start organizing your papers.

“Well gentlemen, I think that’ll be all I need from both of you today.”

They both stand up, adjusting their seats.

You grab all the papers, standing up and walking towards the door.

Stack takes a phone call as he holds the door open for both of you.

“Nice meeting both of you. I’ll be in touch, if we need anything.” You mention.

Smoke holds his hand out to shake yours.

You grab his hand giving it a firm shake, your eyes meeting his. He stares into your eyes, almost like time around you is stopping.

You’re barely able to notice him saying thank you with the way you’re enamored by him. His very presence, his voice, and his overall demeanor.

You let go of his hand, an intense feeling of embarrassment festering inside you.

The rest of your shift at the office has gone by smoothly and quicker than you expected.

You sit at the desk finishing up the emails you needed to send out and slowly but surely gathering your things.

The last email is sent, you power off your computer, turn off the lamp and grab your stuff to head out the door. Just as you walk to the door, your office phone rings and you debate not picking it up— but you do anyway.

“Hello, the office is currently closed right now—“

“It’s me, Elijah. I was calling to see if Stack could get your number in case he needs to get in contact with you for anything regarding the case.”

You hold the phone to your ear, barely processing what was said.

“Um, anything he’d need he could just call the office phone.”

“Well, what if it’s after hours or on a day y’all are closed?”

Your mind races trying to think on what would be the correct course of action, but you also think about how furious your boss would be if you said no.

You take a deep breath and slowly recite the number to your cell.

“Thank you, I’ll make sure to get it to him.”

“No problem, is that all you needed from me?” You ask.

“Yes.”

“Okay, we’ll be in touch if we need anything else.”

The line disconnects.

The next morning you get up and start your day early— you feed your cat Binx before you leave for class, barely leaving out in time.

You and your friend Lane are the first two people in the auditorium, killing time before class starts.

“You know, our firm just took on this pretty big case.” You mention.

Lane’s brow raises, “really? Is it a high profile one?”

You shrug your shoulders, unsure how to answer.

“I can’t really say, because I don’t know. I mean, it’s a lawsuit for two million dollars against these twins.”

“Twins? Men or women?”

You let out a laugh, nudging her. “Girl, you know I’m talking about men.”

She throws her hands up in defeat.

“Shit, I didn’t know.”

You both laugh, neither one of you taking anything serious. Y’all’s laughter echoes throughout the auditorium.

“Are they at least cute?”

You glance at her with a smirk.

Despite the fact that you don’t want to admit how fine they are, they are fine. The kind of fine that you see on tv, the kind that sounds made up.

“So, how’s it been at the firm? Is it stressful?” She questions.

You shake your head, shifting your weight and leaning against the wall.

“It’s been good. This firm does take a lot of high rollers, so there can be stress regarding that— but you get used to it. The cases themselves aren’t hard at all.”

She sips on her coffee, swirling it around. “I wish it was like that at the one I’m at, that firm is a hell hole.”

Your brow raises, “really?”

She nods. “Shitty boss, huge workload, underpaid, and doing a ton of work off the clock.”

“That’s a shame, truly. I was hoping that you’d like this one.”

She scoffs, “me too.”

You start to set up your cello as more people start coming in for class.

Today, you’re performing in front of the class for your final project. At the start of the semester, the professor assigns each student a different song to work on individually, and you perform it for him at the end for a grade.

Your palms start to sweat, just at the thought of messing this up.

One thing you don’t play about is school in general and your skill with playing the cello. You’re very proud of how good you are at playing and how your practice shows up when you perform—but now doubts are seeping into your head about how good you’ve practiced.

You take a deep breath, walking over towards Lane after you finish setting up.

She stares at you and the anxiety written all over your face.

“Are you nervous?”

You wipe your hands off on your pants, giving her a slight nod.

“I just.. I just hope that I practiced enough.”

Lane wraps her arms around you, bringing you closer.

“Don’t even sweat it, girl! You did more than enough and I’m sure you’re going to ace this.”

You hug her back, grateful for a friend like her.

The doors to the auditorium, everyone’s eyes meeting the noise.

Your professor Mr. Chang walks in with his clipboard, heading to the stage.

“Sorry, everyone for being late. I got caught up in a meeting.”

You adjust your shirt, leaning up against Lane.

Mr. Chang makes his way to the front of the auditorium, stopping at the steps right before you go on stage.

“I want to say that I’m very certain all of you have prepared greatly for this assignment. I know that all of you are nervous, some are even already asking about possible re-takes and we haven’t even started—“

“Just pretend that you’re alone and that this is your time to shine.”

He gestures for you to come over to him.

You share one last look with Lane before walking away.

He writes a few things on his clipboard before looking up at you.

“Are you ready?”

You take a deep breath, “it’s now or never.”

The lights in the auditorium dim as you walk onto the stage, the whispers and conversations between your peers coming to a halt.

Your heart races in your chest, your nervousness at an all time high.

You take your seat, waiting for further instruction.

There’s a brief pause before Mr.Chang looks up and gives you the go ahead.

You close your eyes like he suggested and begin to play as if you’re alone and in your own world. You imagine playing at a sold out opera house, people coming from near and far to see you.

All of your worries and fears vanish as you play.

Your bow feels weightless in your hand as it glides against the strings, gliding in a precise movement like it has a mind of its own.

Mr. Chang and the rest of the class watch you in awe.

You end the song on a note that makes everyone stand up to applaud you.

Your best friend Lane, smiling ear to ear.

You stand up from your seat, trying not to smile too hard.

Mr. Chang finishes his notes as he walks up the stairs beside you and onto the stage.

“Wow, um—“

“Your performance was one of the best that I’ve seen in a long time. You hit every note so effortlessly and with such intricacy. Well done.”

Your eyes get glassy from his words and the overall compliment of your performance.

“It should go without saying that you’ve received a hundred on your assignment. I’m blown away, truly and I think the rest of the class has pretty big shoes to follow after your performance.”

Your friend hugs you with a big grin as the class starts clapping again.

A few minutes later Mr. Chang dismisses class and you grab your stuff to leave.

Before you walk out the door, Mr. Chang runs up beside you and taps you on the shoulder.

“Can I speak to you for a minute?”

“Uh, sure.” You reply with a little confusion.

“You are by far one of my best students and I know how much you practice and study. I wanted to ask, are you interested in the tutoring program offered for my class?”

You stand there for a second and take in the question before coming up with a suitable answer.

“I had thought about it, but I’m just too busy for it. I never have enough time.”

He nods, fiddling with the clipboard.

“I just ask that you take time to consider it again, I think it could be very beneficial to you and your classmates.”

He walks away, leaving you with your thoughts and still reeling from the high of nailing your performance.

It paid off. All of the late nights practicing and studying was worth it.

You get outside, adjusting your jacket to the cold wind while you stand there waiting for a taxi.

The man pulls the cab in front of you, a bit away from the curb.

You get in, shaking from the coldness outside.

“Shit! It’s so cold outside.”

The man laughs, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel.

“Where to?”

“Park Avenue.”

Your taxi ride is quiet, just the low hums of the car and whatever radio station he has on. He drops you off where you asked and you walk into your apartment building.

Once you get inside and take your jacket and shoes off, you’re greeted by your cat Binx. She’s meowing at a very high pitch and walking in between your legs.

“I know, I know. I’m going to feed you in a second, I promise.”

Binx always acts like she’s starving if you don’t feed her at her exact time, even a minute later and she’s meowing like you’ve abandoned her.

You pull out her food that you had prepped before you left and scrape it into her bowl. You’re barely able to finish putting it in there before she’s diving in and eating it like you’re gonna take it away from her.

Once you’re finished with that, you sit down on the couch with a glass of wine and open your laptop to start working. Normally, you’d use this time to kick your feet up and catch up on tv— but this case is taking any free time you have left.

Reading all of the documents that you have available makes this case look anything other than winnable. You’re taking notes on it and sending out dozens of emails, but even then it still feels like he will end up paying out. Maybe with some luck, he won’t have to— but it’s up in the air.

You sip your wine as you type up an email to your boss, attach the files you’ve gathered, and let him know what you have so far and what you still need.

You also note that these documents might need extra verification before they can be submitted into the system.

You set your glass in the sink and toss the empty wine bottle, stepping away from your computer while you wait for a response.

Sitting at the computer and working while watching the sun set around you is blissful, something you enjoy more now than ever.

You sit back down on the couch and your computer dings, your boss responds.

He informs you that Elias is coming to the office tomorrow to talk about his assets. You reply back acknowledging the email, closing out all of your tabs, and turning off your laptop.

Now that your work is done, you spend the rest of your afternoon and night— catching up on Real Housewives of Atlanta and eating the Chinese takeout you ordered.

Your day doesn’t have to start early as it normally does, because you don’t have any classes today. You just have to report straight to the firm.

By 10:30 am you’re walking through the firm doors and heading to your office.

You put your lunch away in your mini fridge, adjust your blinds to the window, and light a candle before getting started.

The first four hours at work are filled with calls from people needing consultations, but the firm’s schedule is booked from open to close everyday. After the last consultation call, your boss comes into your office and tells you to close off the schedule for the remainder of the year. He says that it wouldn’t be feasible to continue taking on clients with his already huge caseload.

You update the company website to reflect that you’re no longer taking on new clients and you update the phone call system to update people there as well.

Your day has already been so busy non- stop and you can feel a headache coming on. You grab your lunch and eat some of the food you packed in hopes that it would make you feel better.

You eat what you can and put the rest away before you grab your paperwork and make your way to the conference room to wait on Elias.

You sit down at the table, checking your watch and making sure that you’re still on time.

A few minutes later both of them walk in the room to your surprise.

“Hello, Good afternoon.” You smile, shuffling through the papers.

They take a seat across the table.

“Afternoon.” Smoke nods.

You pull out a pen, glancing at the paper.

“So, you’re here today for us to discuss your assets—“

“Discussing your assets is a pivotal part of working a case, we need to make sure all bases are covered and to go over what would happen if you’d lose the case.” You mention.

Stack’s fingers tap the table, a sigh escaping his lips.

“We ain’t gotta worry about us losing, that shouldn’t be happening.”

You let out a laugh, not that he’s funny— but he’s too cocky for his own good.

“There’s always a possibility, unless you have stone cold proof of something that would invalidate the complainants claim.”

He sucks his teeth and Smoke cuts him a look.

“I’m going to go down this list of properties that you have listed, you let me know which you’d be willing to lose if you end up owing the two million.”

“The Colorado ranch?”

“No.”

“This isn’t a property, but you have a yacht listed.”

“No.”

“The penthouse near Times Square?”

“Hell nah.” He chuckles.

“The penthouse in Miami?”

“No.”

“The multi use building in Chicago?”

“Nope.”

You glance up with your brow raised and a slight smirk.

“If you’re not willing to give any of your properties up, then how will you pay? They will seize them if you’re uncooperative.”

“Cash.” Smoke chimes in.

You set the pen down on the table, leaning back in your chair with your fingers intertwined in your lap.

“Cash? You’re going to pay the two million dollars with cash?”

“Yes ma’am.” Stack replies.

You sit up in the chair and pick up the pen, jotting down the info.

You pass Stack a piece of paper and a pen.

“Write down the routing and accounting number to whichever account you’ll use.”

Smoke pulls out a cigarette, “can I smoke in here?”

“No, you may not.” You reply curtly.

He licks his lips, almost as if a grin is tugging at his lips.

Stack slides the pen and piece of paper back to you.

“Is it clean?” You ask.

“As a whistle.” Smoke replies.

“Alright then, I’ll get this to Tony and he’ll verify the funds. I will be back in contact, if we need anything else.” You inform them.

You stand up, adjusting your skirt and grabbing the papers off of the table.

“Gentlemen.” You nod.

They stand up, pushing their chairs back up to the table and watching you walk out of the room.

“My, my, my.” Smoke mumbles under his breath.

From the very first glance Smoke knew that he wanted you. The way you carry yourself, the way you speak, the way that you’ve been handling the case— every detail about you has caught his eye. Especially today, seeing you in the red blouse and the short black skirt. It did something to him.

He can no longer deny what he thinks of you, despite trying his hardest to.

When you talk, he listens and nothing else catches his attention. When you grin, a heat fills his chest. It’s like you’re in control of him.

It’s been a long time since he’s looked at anyone the way he’s looking at you.

He wants to get to know you, he has to for his own sanity.

Once you get back to your office, you have to sit down and take a deep breath. Despite so little interaction with Smoke, he lives in your mind.

You finish up filling out a few things and you’re about to wrap your day up. You’ve been so busy that hours have slipped past you while you’ve been working.

As you’re about to turn your computer off, you get a text.

“Can you meet me at a restaurant in Manhattan to discuss more details about the case? -E”

You have to read it a few times out of confusion, because there’s no reason that you’d have much to discuss. You’ve already gotten most of the documents needed, you discussed their assets, and you’ve gone over all pivotal information with Elias. You text him back, “Sure thing! Just text me the address.”

You were looking forward to going home and now you’re about to go to a restaurant and discuss more work related things.

Your phone dings with the information about the restaurant and what time you need to be there. You realize you still have time before needing to head there, so you decide to head home and feed your cat. The sun will be setting soon and she probably won't get her food on time once you go to the restaurant.

You take a thirty minute cab ride home to feed Binx really quickly, drop your stuff off, and then you’re back in another cab on your way to Manhattan.

Once the cab arrives at the restaurant, you’re ready for this to be over and hoping that he doesn’t have much to talk about.

The restaurant is fancy, it’s dimly lit and requires reservations.

You step inside by passing the line out of the door and walking to the staff at the counter. You let them know that you’re supposed to be meeting someone here. You’re not even able to finish your sentence before they’re telling you to follow them— they already know who you are and who you’re looking for.

They walk you back to a table in the back, against the window with a great view.

You’re greeted by Smoke at the table instead of Stack and the confusion is written all over your face.

“Hello.”

You sit at the table, taking your coat off and putting it behind the chair.

“Hi..”

“I thought Elias needed me here for paperwork?” You question.

“You are here for paperwork, but it’s me handling this instead of Stack.”

He hands you a manila envelope, “Get this to Tony. It’s for his eyes and his only.”

You nod and put the envelope in your purse.

He calls over the waiter and has them bring over a bottle of wine.

“Do you drink?”

You shrug, “occasionally.”

The waiter pours a red wine into your glass, asking Smoke if there is anything else he’d need.

“I’d also like an old fashioned.” He mentions.

The waiter smiles, “I’ll be right back with that.”

The soft jazz music plays in the restaurant from an actual live band in the corner performing it. This is the kind of restaurant you’d bring your lover or mistress, not a place for a business interaction.

“What’s the meaning of this?” You ask while taking a sip of wine from your glass.

“I want to get to know the person handling this case. I know Tony, but I don’t know you.”

You let out a scoff that’s just short of a laugh.

“There’s not much to know, I’m just the paralegal assigned to your case and nothing more.”

The waiter brings his drink to the table and two menus, before leaving the table promptly.

“That’s a corporate response if I’ve ever heard one.”

You open your menu, browsing through it and avoiding eye contact.

“Who are you really?” He pries.

You don’t respond leaving his question hanging in the air.

“Do you bring all the Paralegals that you meet out for dinner?”

He chuckles, rubbing his finger around the brim of the glass.

“Are you assuming that we’re always in legal trouble and in need of a paralegal?”

You look up from your menu, a smirk on your face.

“Hm.”

“You gonna answer my question?” He asks, his brow raised.

You push some of your hair out of your face and sit back in your chair, staring at him.

“I’m a paralegal that works for Tony Giordano and that also attends Julliard.”

“Interesting ..” he mumbles under his breath.

“Is there anything else that you want to know?” You ask with a hint of sarcasm.

He picks up his menu, reading through it and his eyes are still somehow lingering on you.

“What instrument do you play?”

“I play the cello. Also not everyone that attends Julliard is playing an instrument.”

“Good instrument.” He comments.

The waiter comes back to the table and takes both of your orders. You order the steak salad and he orders the grilled salmon and asparagus.

A silence lingers between the two of you, both of you unsure who should take the lead in the conversation.

“How do you know Tony?”

“I only know him, because I work for him. He posted an ad for the job, I applied and I was selected—“

“How do you know him?”

He finishes his drink, almost like he’s buying time with his answer.

“Business.”

“Hmm. What do you and your brother do?”

“We own a few nightclubs and a few businesses.”

You finish the wine in your glass.

“So, what did the two of you actually do in order to get sued for two million?”

He gives you a breathy laugh, shocked by your straightforwardness.

“You’d make a fantastic lawyer, straight to the heavy hitting questions.”

The waiter comes back bringing another old fashioned and filling your glass with wine again.

“It’s not a heavy hitting question. Most people aren’t sued too quickly for breach of contract, not in this manner. The complainant doesn’t even want to settle, he wants a trial. You guys seriously pissed him off.”

He shrugs his shoulders, “we handled the situation way better than most would have.”

The waiter brings your food out and it looks absolutely delicious, Smoke digs in and so do you.

“Do you have a boyfriend?”

You glance up in shock. You finish chewing your salad, taking your time with answering.

“Do I have a what?”

“You heard me.”

You squirm in your seat a little, your heart beating faster.

“I don’t have a boyfriend. I’m not sure what that has to do with me being the paralegal working on your case though.”

“I just didn’t want to step on any toes with this dinner.” He points out.

You swirl your wine around in the glass before taking another sip. This dinner wasn’t what you were expecting and that’s okay, but this man has you feeling things that you shouldn’t be feeling for a client..

The wine is making your body feel warm and tingly, the sensation carrying its way through your body.

Your eyes follow his every movement, including the way his tongue drags across his bottom lip after he takes a bite of his food.

“What are the chances that we walk away clean?”

You wipe your mouth with a napkin, trying to figure out a way to give him a genuine answer.

“Hm—“

“If you gave any solid evidence in that folder then you’ll have a chance, if not then you’ll probably end up losing.”

You finish the wine in your glass— feeling full and like your stomach could burst.

You catch a glimpse at your watch. “Shit, it’s getting late and I have to get home.”

You pull out your wallet and he puts his hand out, stopping you.

“Nah, you’ll never have to worry about a tab with me.”

He puts three hundreds on the table and stands up— putting his coat on and walking over to help you put yours on.

“Thank you for dinner, it was lovely and it was nice getting to speak to you.”

You turn to walk away and he grabs your hand catching you off guard.

“I can give you a ride, I’ll have my driver drop you off.”

He guides you through the restaurant, holding your hand.

You both get outside, standing side by side and no longer holding hands.

A blacked out Escalade pulls up and a driver gets out of the car, coming to the passenger side and opening the door for you.

“Ms.” The driver smiles.

You get in and Smoke gets in on the other side.

Once the driver is in, you tell him your address. You sit back, enjoying the warm and comfortable ride to your apartment.

There isn’t any talking going on between you two during the ride, Smoke is taking a few calls and you’re just trying to relax.

After what feels like a while in the car, the driver pulls in front of your apartment building and he comes to open the door for you. As you get out, you adjust your skirt and turn to thank Smoke for the dinner.

He gives a nod and waves at you, still on the phone.

The driver shuts the door and you walk into the building.

When you get inside your apartment, you kick your heels off and collapse onto your couch. Your day has been busy and non-stop, normally you’d be exhausted and ready for bed— but after that dinner he’s all you're thinking about.

Not that you’d ever end up with him, but he was interested in you and in what you do. It’s never happened before, it feels like the stuff you see in movies.

Maybe, you’re reading too much into it and it was just simply a professional dinner— but there’s nothing professional about the way he makes you feel.

After a long and hot shower, you get into bed and try getting some rest.

When you wake up the next morning, you complete your usual routine— but this time instead of getting ready for work or class, you’re going to a Pilates class. You don’t attend as much as you used to, but when you need something to clear your mind— you immediately book a class.

The class is an hour and thirty minutes long, which is exactly what you need. More time focusing on yourself and your body instead of him.

On your way home, you get a call from your boss and he asks you to come in.

You rush home, shower, and change into your work attire. Barely enough time to do all of that, before you’re in a taxi and on your way to work.

Once you get into your office— you sit down and sign into your computer to get started on your work.

There’s a knock at your door. You turn in your seat to see a delivery man standing there holding flowers.

“I was told these are for you.”

You accept them and sit them down on your desk.

“These are beautiful, who sent them?” You mumble to yourself.

You read the card.

“Thank you for joining me for dinner last night. I had a wonderful time.”

You’re grinning ear to ear, unable to hide it.

You really felt that maybe you were reading into things too much or that you were being delusional, but maybe he does share the same attraction that you do. Why else would he have twenty four roses delivered to your office?

You get back to focusing on work and you send a few emails out, but that’s interrupted when your boss calls you to his office. At first you’re worried that he somehow found out about the dinner, but instead it was him thanking you. He thanked you for being so patient and understanding with the case load you’ve had lately. He also informs you that you’ll be getting a Christmas bonus, which makes you really happy to hear. You could use it for so many things and you’ve earned it with all of the late nights within the last few months.

You get back to your office and you’re almost jumping for joy at his praise for you and your work.

You take a quick break, searching a few things on your computer and you send an update email to Stack— letting him know that he has a court date for the case coming up in two weeks.

Lunchtime is approaching, so you grab your bag and head down the street to a local Mexican restaurant.

You wait for Lane to arrive.

She meets you at the restaurant a few minutes later.

“Hey!”

“Hey, girl!” You laugh, giving her a quick hug as she sits down.

“How have you been?”

You sit back down in your seat, scooting closer to the table.

“I’ve been good, just busy working and practicing as usual. How are you?”

She laughs, pushing her hair behind her ear.

“Shit, stressed. I’m not ready for my performance, at least I don’t feel ready. I don’t think I’ve practiced enough.”

You scoff, waving her off. “You damn near practice just as much as I do, you’re more than ready.”

“What if I mess up?”

“Then you take a deep breath and continue through your performance, you got this and you know you do.”

The waiter comes to your table and takes y’alls orders, both of you already knowing what you want. You both order taco salads and a margarita.

“So, how’s the case doing?” She asks, eyes focused on you and your body language.

“It’s going about how you’d expect it to, very up in the air.”

The waiter brings the margaritas to the table and a few napkins.

You sip on yours, looking around the room.

“What about the client?” She pries.

You try to keep from smirking and you continue to look around the room.

“What about him?”

“Girl, don’t be coy with me. You already know what I’m talking about.”

You both laugh.

“I mean they’re both fine, but the oldest twin was the one that caught my attention.”

She sips on her margarita, a smile on her face.

“Okay, I see you.”

You shake your head, still downplaying your attraction to him.

“He’s technically a client and I’d never cross that line.”

The waiter brings out your food and both of you waste no time before saying a quick prayer and digging in.

“Do you think you’d ever consider it, if he was interested?” She questions, taking another bite of her food.

“Um, still no. He’s very handsome, but I’d like to maintain that level of professionalism between us. He’s also way older than me and I just don’t have time for that.”

Lane eyes you and just nods her head to your answer. She knows you like the back of her hand and it’s very clear that she doesn’t buy it.

Part of what you said is true, you don’t have time for that. You’re not interested in any type of fling between a man, you have school and work to worry about.

Does he interest you? Yes, but blurring that line between client and anything else is always a terrible idea.

“Well, if you’re genuinely not interested in him— send him my way. I need an older man in my life.” She giggles.

You fake a smile, but you know damn well that you want him all for yourself.

Lunch wraps up about twenty minutes later as both of you have to get back to work. You cover both tabs, give her a hug and start your walk back to the office. On your way to the office, your boss calls you and tells you that he closed early. He has a family emergency and told you that you’re off for the rest of the day with pay.

You get a cab back home, excited to have a free afternoon.

Once you’re home you immediately kick your shoes off and get ready to start practicing with your cello. Lately, work has had most of your time and you haven’t spent nearly enough time practicing.

Playing your cello gives you a sense of comfort and peace, it’s the one thing you’re truly dedicated to. You were taught how to play at a young age and you’ve held that close to you ever since.

You look over your notes from class and the music sheets that Mr.Chang gave everyone. Now that the class concert is a week away— you need to be practicing even more and harder than you did before.

You sit in your chair near the window, in complete silence and you begin playing.

The sound flowing through your apartment is like something magical.

You’re in your own world when you play—free from all thoughts, worries, and fears.

Hours pass by while you’re playing, before you finally decide to be done for the afternoon and take a break.

You put your cello away, feed Binx, and sit down on the couch— opening your laptop to check your emails.

The sunset glow from outside shines through the window, casting your shadow on the wall.

You finish a few correspondence emails, hoping for fast responses— but you’re not holding your breath. You come across an email from the complainant's attorney. You open the file in the email only to realize that it’s a clear as day recording of Stack threatening the complainant.

Your skin is hot and mouth agape. This is bad, really bad.

You immediately pick up the phone and dial Tony— after a few rings he picks up.

“Everything okay?” He asks.

You sigh, pacing around your apartment.

“We have a problem, a big one.”

You can hear multiple voices in the background, sounding like he’s out to eat.

“Spill it.”

“I.. I just got an email with a clear recording of Stack threatening the complainant.”

It’s completely silent on the other end.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” He replies, his voice raised.

“Unfortunately, I’m not. I’m not sure what to do.”

You can hear the anger slipping through his words.

“Get that motherfucker on the phone, we need to talk!”

You anxiously bite your lip,”I will and I’ll let you know what he says.”

The line disconnects after this.

You feel like burying your head in sand, this couldn’t possibly get any worse. It makes you look bad, like you haven’t been doing your job.

After some hesitation and even more pacing around your apartment, you pick your phone up and text Smoke.

“What’s your address?”

You feel like you could throw up once you see that the text was sent.

He responds back immediately with no questions and just sends his address.

Twenty minutes later, you put your heels on, grab your jacket, and rush downstairs. You get outside to catch a taxi, but you’re met with two blacked out Escalades parked on the sidewalk.

A man approaches you, the driver of one of the vehicles.

“Hi, ma’am. My name’s Jabari and I was sent to pick you bring you to Mr. Moore.”

You’re too stunned to speak, you just follow Jabari to the car and get in the backseat.

The drive is quiet outside of the subtle radio station that was playing. After a little bit, the cars pull up the curb of this fancy building.

Jabari helps you out of the car and you hesitantly walk through the front doors of the building, greeted by the security at the desk.

“The elevator will take you straight to floor twenty where he’s at.” The older gentleman grins.

You’re in awe at the building. It’s beautiful and very detailed. You could only ever dream of owning a penthouse in this building, maybe if you won the lottery.

The elevator dings and the doors open up to you being inside his house.

He’s standing in the kitchen when you walk in, leaning against the counter in a white tank and grey sweatpants.

“Glad you made it.”

You walk towards the kitchen— your eyes scanning the space and view from the ceiling to floor windows.

“What did I tell you two in the very beginning?” You scold him.

He grabs two bottles of water from the fridge, sliding one across the counter to you.

“Tell us about what?” He replies.

“Complete compliance and total fucking honesty.” You remind him, anger fueling your voice.

You push play on the recording that you saved to your recording device.

He listens and doesn’t have much of a reaction, almost like he knew about this the entire time.

“Why wasn’t I told about this?”

“I didn’t think that this would come into play, but if Tony goes through that file I gave you— that won’t matter.”

“Tony is just the figurehead for your case. I do all of the work! Me and only me. The information that I get is vetted and then it goes to him. If you can’t be honest with me and give the information to me, then I can’t properly do my fucking job. If I can’t do my job, then I get in trouble.” You yell.

He walks around the counter, standing closer to you— leaning against it and keeping his focus on your face.

“You won’t get fired or anything like that.”

“How do you know that? Huh?”

“Cause If he fires you, then he’d lose us as clients and we’d follow you wherever you went.”

You lose your train of thought when he says that, all the anger and annoyances leaves your body in an instance.

“I just need to know if there’s anything else, or I’ll recommend that Tony drop your case.”

You turn away to start walking back towards the elevator.

“Have a goodnight Mr. Moore.”

You’re barely able to finish your sentence, before he’s grabbed you and pulled you into him.

He kisses you— deep, slow, and tender. He takes his time.

His thumb brushes your cheek and you melt into him.

You pull away, ending the kiss and it’s the last thing you want to do.

“We.. shouldn’t.” You mumble.

His thumb is still caressing your cheek and his eyes staring into yours.

“Why not?”

Even with a million reasons why, you struggle to say any.

“Use your words.” He coaches.

You feel your heart skip a beat.

“We should keep things professional.”

He pushes you back against the counter, his hands wandering your body. You feel his hand caressing your upper thigh and making it’s way lower and lower.

The heat in your stomach is rising and the wetness is pooling between your legs.

His hand brushes up against your panties and you feel weak.

The way he’s rubbing your thighs and in between your legs, it’s very clear that he’s methodical with how he likes to tease. He wants to drive you crazy before he’s even done much.

He kisses the side of your cheek, sprinkling kisses down your face and onto your neck.

“Tell me to stop, especially if you want this to stay professional.”

You should want this to stay professional, he’s a client for crying out loud. This kind of behavior could cause you to lose your job, but even with that in mind you can’t fix your lips to tell him to stop.

He tears your panty hose, like it’s something he’s done plenty of times before.

His fingers slowly rubbing you through your panties before he pushes them to the side.

He starts kissing you again, his tongue gliding against yours and making your mouth its home.

He slides his fingers in between your folds, not too fast and not too slow— but just right.

Your hand grips the counter and your eyes roll back into your head.

Something so wrong shouldn’t feel so right.

Your chest rising and falling fast, moans spilling out of your mouth and into his as you suck his tongue.

A grunt leaves his mouth.

Your slick coats his fingers as he rubs your clit.

“Fuck.”

His finger slides down from your clit and he slowly presses it inside of you.

You gasp, “Smoke.”

“Mhmm..”

He pumps his finger in and out of you, the knot in your stomach building.

“You’re so needy.” He groans.

Your grip on the counter tightens.

He pulls his finger out, catching you off guard.

It’s glistening in the light, before he sucks it clean.

He brings his fingers close to your mouth, “spit.”

You spit on his fingers, your eyes tracking his every move.

He rubs your clit and then slowly pushes two fingers in.

“Oh, my.. fuck.” You moan.

He pumps his fingers in and out of your pussy, making sure that you’ll never forget him or this.

It feels better than you could’ve ever expected.

You’re barely able to hold on, your toes curling in your heels.

You kiss him on his neck, almost making him lose focus.

A few seconds later, you cum hard— harder than you ever have.

He gives you a quick kiss, pulling his fingers out and directing you to his bathroom.

You stand there in the mirror in disbelief, wondering if you’re dreaming— because there’s no way that just happened.

You pull your ripped panty hose off and toss them in the trash.

When you come out of the bathroom a few minutes later, he’s drinking some water.

“I’m going to go. I’ll make sure to talk to Tony and see if he looked over the stuff in the envelope.”

He tilts his head, “you good?”

You nod and press the button waiting on the elevator.

His drivers drive you home and the entire ride all you can think about is how you’re an idiot. Messing around with a client is wrong and beyond a bad look, you know better— and you shouldn’t have let it happen regardless of how you feel.

It’s been a few days since the interaction between you and Smoke, you haven’t heard from him and at first it bothered you— but now you’ve written him off.

It is what is and you have more important things to worry about anyway.

It’s almost time for your class performance— the concert hall is packed with faculty, family, and friends.

Mr. Chang stands on the stage, facing all of you.

“You guys have come so far and you’ve worked very hard to get to this point. I can’t wait for everyone to see how much time and effort you’ve put into this.”

He gives a thumbs up and the curtains behind him rise.

You take a deep breath, trying not to let the number of people sitting in the building make you nervous.

Two minutes later you guys begin and continue playing for the next hour and fifteen minutes. Everything goes great— there were no mistakes or off key notes. It went just as you’d hoped and it went by so quickly that you couldn’t even tell that you had just performed for an hour.

The crowd gives a standing ovation lasting for ten minutes— a crowd of two hundred people that are blown away and proud of every single one of you.

Once the clapping is done, while you’re still sitting in your seats— a photographer comes on stage and takes a few pictures of you guys. Right after that you’re able to pack your instrument and go into the crowd to meet the people you invited.

You pack your cello, taking it to the back and wiping off your sweaty hands.

The concert hall hums with laughter and voices overlapping.

You walk down towards the seats and meet your friend Lane who runs up and gives you a hug, slightly lifting you off the ground.

“I’m so fucking proud of you, you did fantastic.” She laughs.

You have a smile on your face that no one can take away.

“I was so nervous, I’ve been nervous about this concert since I was picked for it.”

She grabs your hand. “You just saw and experienced why you had no reason to be nervous.”

You guys walk around— mingling with other friends and posing for pictures.

“Are you ready to go?” She subtly whispers in your ear as you smile and wrap up a conversation.

You nod.

You and her walk to the door, laughing and talking about nothing.

Just as you’re about to walk out the door, Smoke walks up to holding a bouquet of pink roses.

“You did good, real good.”

Lane eyes you, “is this him? My god.”

He hands you the roses, “can I talk to you for a minute?”

You hold the roses and roll your eyes, “no.”

Lane nudges you.

“Well, girl— I’m about to go home. I’ll call you later, love ya!”

“Love you too!”

You move around him, continuing to walk towards the exit.

He nudges you, guiding you into the hallway on the side that’s away from the doors.

“Where are you going?”

“I’m going home, Smoke—“

“I haven’t heard from you at all since I last seen you and you have the nerve to show up to a concert that I didn’t tell you about or invite you to?”

“I wanted to see you play.”

You pinch the bridge of your nose, trying to maintain your composure.

“What do you want from me? You got what you wanted, is that not enough?”

He frowns, his shoulders pulled back.

“What I wanted?”

“You couldn’t even begin to handle what I want.” He scoffs.

“Try me.” You reply.

He grabs your hand and leads you outside to his cars, you climb in and so does he. The driver takes you to his building, opening the door for you.

Smoke grabs your hand and leads you into the building.

“What up, Gerard?”

The security guard smiles, giving him a nod of approval.

As you get in the elevator waiting for his floor, he grabs your roses.

“Take your shoes off by the door and hang your coat on the rack.”

The elevator dings and he walks ahead of you, he sets the flowers on the counter and disappears down the hallway.

You take your shoes and coat off— wandering the kitchen and into the living room.

The view of the city below from his windows is breathtaking. You stare down below at the busy city streets and the people walking.

Smoke calls your name from a room down his hallway.

You walk down the hall— taking your time and admiring the paintings.

You approach the room and the door is cracked. The room is mostly black with hints of red and dimly lit.

He stands in the middle of the room on a red mat, his white shirt slightly unbuttoned and showing off his chest.

“Come here.”

You walk over, eyes scanning the room— but you’re unable to tell what’s what.

“Smoke, what’s the—“

He grabs your chin and presses a quick kiss to your lips.

“Sit on your knees.”

Instead of asking more questions, you do it. Almost like it came naturally.

He walks around you and places a blindfold over your eyes.

All you can hear are his feet shuffling against the floor.

“I’m not your ordinary man.”

You feel a light and ticklish sensation on your arms and neck that makes you squirm, unable to pinpoint what it is or what he’s doing.

“I require submission, full submission when it comes to sex.”

Your breath hitches in your chest. This is far what you were expecting from him.

You feel a cold metal sensation against your right arm.

“I am what’s considered a sadist.”

Your eyes widen under the mask, but before you can say anything he continues to talk.

“Don’t worry, it’s only for pain in a sexual regard. Never anything outside of that and never anything that isn’t agreed upon beforehand.”

You can hear his feet circling around you on the mat and what you presume to be leather tassels moving along your body.

“Stand up.”

You stand up without even thinking twice.

“Take one step forward.”

You take one step.

Giving someone else this kind of control in the bedroom should scare you, but instead you’re interested— turned on even.

His lips brush against yours, his breath warming your cheek.

“If you want anything with me, you have to submit to me.”

“Are you gonna submit to me?—“

You nod, lips slightly parted and heart rate picking up.

He brushes your face with his hand.

“Good.”

He pulls the mask off of your face, scanning your face for any unsavory reaction. You stare back at him with admiration and want.

He grabs your hand and leads you back into the living room, shutting the door behind him.

You walk into the kitchen and see two women in uniform standing there.

“This is Marcielle and Dana, they’re my help around here. They’re like family to me, you never treat them any differently. They speak Spanish and English. They’re here if you need anything when I’m not around.”

He starts adjusting his shirt, buttoning it up.

“I’m about to go to handle some business, I can drop you off or you can stay and make yourself at home.”

You’re still trying to wrap your head around everything that he just did, but you tell him to drop you off.

In the car you’re sitting closer to him this time, trying to figure out where you go from here.

“So, does this make you my man? Or what?” You ask, breaking the silence.

His driver Jabari glances at you in the mirror and raises up the tinted glass window in between the front and back.

“Do you want to be my woman?”

You lick your lips, trying to hide your expression and you let the question linger without a response. This definitely would be a unique start to a relationship.

Jabari pulls up at your apartment, getting out and coming to open your door.

Before you get out of the car, smoke grabs your hand. You look back at him and he pulls you into a kiss, a kiss where he’s letting you know that you’re his.

“I’ll see you later, baby.”

You get out of the car and your stomach is in knots from excitement and disbelief of everything that’s happened. Being with him was just a fantasy, something that in your mind was unattainable.

You walk into your apartment— picking up Binx, who was waiting patiently for you at the door and for you to give her some attention. When you bent down to pick her up, a card fell out of your coat pocket.

A black Amex with a sticky note on it.

“For you.”

You pick up your phone, texting him and figuring that it must be a mistake.

“Did you mean to put a card in my pocket?”

He texts you back immediately.

“Yes. Your own personal card, it has no limit. Get anything you need.”

“Also, buy something nice for dinner tonight.”

You shriek, dancing around your living room while you hold Binx..

This feels like a dream.

You change into another dress in the private dressing room, while Lane stands there admiring herself in the mirror.

“Wait, so let me get this straight— all of this stemmed from the dinner you had with him?”

You adjust the dress, trying to figure out if it’s even worthy of bringing out to show her.

“Yeah, pretty much.”

You zip up your dress and pull the curtain, walking out to show Lane.

“That’s cute on you. It shows off your curves without being too revealing and it’s the perfect length.”

You stare in the mirror, adjusting the dress. “I thought so too.”

“Did you fuck him?” She asks, downing the rest of her champagne.

“Girl, what? Hell no!”

“He only fingered me.” You giggle.

“Oh, my bad! You only let him play with your cat. I’ll try to be more correct next time.” She mocks.

“Thank you, boo.” You reply back with the same level of sarcasm.

“Do you want some more champagne?” She asks, holding the bottle.

You shake your head no and walk back into the dressing room, pulling the curtain behind you.

“I wouldn’t have believed you if I hadn’t seen him for myself. A mysterious rich man, who randomly wants you like this and gives you a card with no limit— sounds made the hell up.” She laughs.

You pull the curtain back, coming out in only your bra and panties.

“Can you hand me that shirt and skirt?”

She walks over grabbing it and handing it to you.

“Damn, did you buy that set for him?”

You pull your shoulders back, a laugh escaping your throat.

“No. I bought this awhile back, I thought it was cute.”

“He will too.” She smirks, doing a humping motion.

You put on the blouse, shaking your head.

“You’re a mess.”

She looks through the dresses and skirts that you have picked out.

“What are you going to do when it’s time to put out?”

You peek your head out from behind the curtain.

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t know, let’s see— checks notes, oh that thing about you being a virgin.”

You shrug, stepping back behind the curtain and putting the skirt on.

“I don’t like this.” You mumble, looking at yourself in the mirror.

Lane did have a good point, what are you going to do when he wants to have sex? You haven’t quite thought it all the way through and you aren’t too sure that you’d even want him to be your first.

You put your clothes back on, hanging up the pieces that you didn’t want in the dressing room.

You pull the curtain back, walking over to grab the clothes that you have set aside.

“Are you taking this thing between you and him serious?”

“As serious as he’s taking it. This is probably something to kill time for him.”

She nods, “you might be right.”

You get to the counter and the woman rings up your items.

“Your total is $4,567.21”

You almost feel as if you’re sweating bullets when you swipe the card, waiting to see if the purchase is approved or declined.

The transaction goes through, lifting an invisible weight off of your chest.

“Alright, here you go. Your receipt is in the bag.” The woman smiles.

You take the bag and start to walk away, “thank you!”

You both walk into the parking lot, gossiping about some stuff that happened on campus. You hug each other and go your separate ways.

“Let me know how tonight goes.”

“I will!” You shout.

You make one last stop before going home, you get your nails and toes done.

When you finally walk through your apartment door you have a sigh of relief. Putting the bags down and sitting down on your couch..

Your phone dings, a text from Smoke.

“A car will be outside waiting to pick you up in two hours. See you soon.”

You feel tingly inside reading his text, getting excited.

You feed Binx first, then you move on to taking a quick shower, picking out an outfit, putting on a small amount of makeup, and adding a few loose curls to your hair before pinning it up.

By the time you finish up, you’re damn near running late.

You put some more water in Binx’s water fountain and blow the candle in the kitchen out, before walking out the door.

You get downstairs and get in the Escalade that’s waiting for you.

The car smells just like a black ice air freshener.

You send a quick text to Lane, “heading there now. Wish me luck!”

The car ride is about thirty minutes or so.

You arrive there, heading in and seeing that the restaurant is completely empty.

He’s waiting for you at a table in the back.

He stands up, helping you get your coat off and giving you a kiss.

“You smell good and you look good.” He mentions.

“Thank you.”

He already has a bottle of wine at the table waiting for you.

“Where is everyone?” You ask him— looking around for anyone that’s not staff.

He pours wine into your glass, "I rented this out for us. I wanted to spend some time out with you, without the worry of other people.”

“You didn’t have to do that.”

“I wanted to.”

You take a sip of your wine, your eyes widening. “This is really delicious.”

“I see that you spent almost forty six hundred dollars today.”

You shift in your seat— “I’m sorry, was that too much?”

He laughs. “ Don’t apologize, I told you that you could get whatever you wanted.”

The waiter brings two menus and places them on the table.

“Tell me more about yourself.”

You glance up, holding your menu. “What do you want to know?”

“Everything.”

You laugh, tilting your head and simultaneously looking at the menu.

“Hmm—“

“I’m a middle child and I have three sisters. I graduated high school at the top of my class and I will finish college at the top of my class. I have a black cat named Binx. I’ve been playing the cello since I was a child and I want to travel the world one day.”

He nods, “okay.”

“Pretty straight forward.” He mutters.

You put down your menu after figuring out what you want.

“It’s your turn, tell me about you.”

You follow up with a question before he can figure out where to start.

“Have you done this before?”

“This exact thing, like with you?”

You shake your head yes, sipping on more of your wine.

“No.”

“Are you married? Have you ever been married?”

“No and no.”

“Do you have any kids?”

“No.”

The waiter interrupts the conversation, coming to your order.

You order the stuffed shells and he orders the steak Alfredo.

He turns in his chair.

“There is something we have to go over.”

You raise your brow, putting down your glass.

“What’s that?”

“In order for this to continue, you have to sign an nda with my attorney. I will pay for you to get your own, so that they can be there to go over it with you. The nda is a non- negotiable, it’s something that has been carefully drafted.”

You nod your head, you don’t have much to say or ask about that.

“Are you on birth control?”

You finish your glass of wine and shake your head no.

“Well, that’s a non- negotiable as well. I don’t care what kind you’re on, you just have to be on some form in order for this to continue. If that’s not your cup of tea, that’s fine. I won’t force you, but this will stop right now. The last thing I need is you getting pregnant.”

“Okay.”

The rest of the dinner is kind of a blur, not because you don’t remember it— you were so focused on everything else that was mentioned prior. There’s nothing wrong with the nda, he’s making sure that he protects himself. Birth control and nda? Maybe this is something that’s just fun for him, maybe you did get the wrong impression.

When he drops you off, the car ride was silent. You were really withdrawn, not inherently upset— but you feel like an idiot for thinking it could be a real thing.

You got into your apartment— kicked your shoes off, took off your dress, and got into the bed.

This morning you slept in, you were exhausted from last night and could use the extra sleep. After making oatmeal and feeding Binx, you sit on the couch and catch up on some tv.

Your phone dings.

“You’ll be picked up at three to meet my attorney and your attorney will be waiting for you there. I won’t be there, but after that I’d like for you to come over. If you want.”

You read it and set your phone back down beside you, continuing to eat your oatmeal.

You spend the next few hours just laying there on the couch, watching tv as the hours go by.

At two, you get up to take a quick shower and to get ready. You almost feel like bailing on the meeting altogether, but you don’t.

Once you’re dropped off at the building, you go inside to the third floor where you’re greeted by your attorney— Mrs. Mathers.

She shakes your hand.

“Nice to meet you. I’m here to represent you and your interests, although this nda is a non- negotiable I’m here to make sure that it’s reasonable and that you’re not forced to sign.”

“Thank you, I wasn’t sure how this would work.” You point out.

“If you do not agree to the terms today, then it’s up to you and Mr. Moore to figure out the best course of action and where to go from here.”

Both of you walk into the room and sit at the table with his attorney, Mr. Dempsey.

“I’m here today to go over the non disclosure agreement that Mr. Elijah Moore is presenting you with.”

You fidget with your rings, your nervousness getting the best of you.

“Part of this agreement is acknowledging the kind of private information that you wouldn’t be allowed to share.”

He passes you the papers for you to look at and read as he goes down the list.

He sits up in his seat, coughing to clear his throat before speaking.

“With this agreement— you will not be allowed to disclose the following things to other parties without his approval and if you don’t get his approval, then you cannot share this information.”

You nod as your attorney takes the papers, flipping through them.

“You cannot disclose how much Mr. Moore makes, how much money you receive from him, or when you receive it from him. You also cannot disclose his address or any addresses of any properties he owns.”

He flips the page.

“You may not disclose anything related to his sexual behaviors, desires, or traits. You may not disclose any disparaging remarks about him on the internet and in general, if you two were to ever break up.”

“You also cannot disclose any information about the company that he keeps or his personal family business.”

Mr. Dempsey passes you a pen.

You turn to your attorney, waiting to hear anything she has to say.

“In my opinion I’d say that this is a pretty standard agreement, I figured it would be worse. Do you have any questions about it?”

You tug at the sleeves of your shirt, “no. I’m willing to sign it.”

Mr. Dempsey puts another contract on the table.

“This is the second part of the contract that is not a non disclosure agreement, this is just a simple contract agreement over the rules of this relationship.”

He slides a copy to you and Ms. Mathers.

“In this agreement, you acknowledge that you will get on birth control within thirty days of signing this. You also acknowledge that Mr. Moore has talked to you about this matter before coming here.”

“That’s interesting.” Your attorney mumbles to herself.

“If you sign this agreement and do not get on birth control within the allotted time and you were fall pregnant— you acknowledge that Mr. Moore would terminate the relationship with you and that he would terminate his parental rights.”

“Wow, what a man.” Ms. Mather mutters.

“By signing this contract you acknowledge and agree that if Mr. Moore was to buy you a property, vehicle, or company in the duration of this relationship — that those assets would be returned to him if the relationship is terminated.”

“You also acknowledge and agree that you are not entitled to any of Mr. Moore's assets should this relationship be terminated. You would leave with what you came with.”

“This last part is that by signing this contract that you acknowledge and agree, that your financial obligations are merely your own. If Mr. Moore decides to give you any money towards them, then that is a gift and nothing more. You acknowledge that if the relationship were terminated, then it is on you to maintain those obligations.”

Your jaw tenses as Mr. Dempsey finishes reading.

You get a few minutes to deliberate with your attorney, discussing the details and you ultimately agree to sign the nda and the contract.

Once the meeting is finished, you head outside and get into the car— riding to Smoke’s place.

Once you get to his building and get inside, you find him staring out the window— finishing up a phone call.

He wraps it up pretty quickly and approaches you, going in for a hug— but you move.

He frowns, “what’s wrong?”

“I went to the meeting with your attorney, that’s what’s wrong.”

“You’re a fucking liar! There’s no way in hell that you haven’t done this before, based off of the contracts and the wording of them in general. All of this is one big fucking exchange for you.”

His eyes widen, he stands there with his hands in his pockets.

“Pregnancy clauses and bullshit, none of this is about finding a potential solid relationship. It’s an arrangement and I was too stupid to see it.” You yell.

His brow raises, “you done?”

Your chest rises and falls fast, studying his reaction— but he doesn’t have much of one.

He walks behind you and helps you take your coat off, placing it on the hook by the elevator.

“Take your shoes off.” He demands.

You step out of them, no longer angry— but now anxious based on his reaction.

He walks to the coffee table, grabbing the remote that adjusts the blinds. The blinds start coming down, making it dark in the room.

“Smoke, I..”

He comes behind you and places a blindfold on your eyes.

“Bend over, hands spread out on the counter. Keep your legs apart.”

“Elijah?”

He walks past you.

“I won’t tell you again.”

You feel a knot in your stomach, based on his tone and how he didn’t take what you said to him lightly.

You can only hear his movement and have no idea what he’s doing.

He comes back behind you, making you jump.

He pulls your skirt down, exposing your brown lace panties.

You shift while standing there, still keeping your palms on the counter and feet spread apart.

He pulls your panties down, slowly and precisely.

You can feel a warm liquid running down your pussy and his finger gently rubbing it in.

You feel something like metal and cold pressed against your clit, he slowly pulls your panties back up— trapping it there.

It starts to vibrate, your mouth falls open from the surprise of it and you want to move your feet so badly.

“Shit.” You moan.

With a quickness you feel a radiating pain of something slapping your ass.

“Don’t you move them feet or hands.”

Between the pain and pleasure, you want to scream— but not in a bad way.

“What was it you were saying? Huh?—“

“I’m a fucking liar?”

You hear the crack of whatever it is, hitting your ass again.

The vibration against your clit makes your legs tremble too on top of everything else.

He bends down kissing your cheek, “I never lied to you, baby.”

Your ass bounces from him hitting again.

You grit your teeth through the pain and pleasure.

“Fuck.” You moan.

“Both contracts are put in place for my security. Not because I’ve had relationships like this one before. You’d be surprised at the lengths that people would go to in order to have what they think you might have.”

The knot in your stomach building and tears of overstimulation painting your cheeks.

He leans down looking at you, the tears running down your cheek.

“Are you crying?”

You nod your head, moans still falling from your mouth.

“Good.”

Another smack on your ass.

“I don’t like being accused of something that I was honest about from the beginning. You could’ve handled it so much better.”

The vibration turns up, higher than it was.

Despite it feeling good, you’re really starting to regret having opened your mouth.

“This feels so good.” You mumble.

“I’m going to—“

He pulls your panties down and takes the vibrator, sliding your panties back up.

You try looking around in confusion, you were so close.

“Stand up.”

You stand up slowly.

“Turn around towards my voice.”

He walks up kissing you passionately, his hand gripping your ass.

“You don’t get rewarded for being wrong.”

He pulls your blindfold off and heads into the other room.

You stand there an overstimulated mess— your cheeks wet from crying and your legs still shaking.

You grab your skirt while he’s in the other room and put it back on.

He comes back a few minutes later, you standing by the window and drinking some water.

“Do you want to stay the night?” He asks.

You nod your head yes.

He wraps his arms around you, placing a kiss on your forehead.

You walk over to the couch, sitting down and placing your glass on the coffee table.

“What made you want this with me?” You ask, cutting straight to the chase.

He walks to the kitchen, pouring himself a glass of water.

“You interested me, from the very beginning. I was attracted to you in general, but the dinner solidified my attraction and interest.”

He walks back over, sitting on the couch with you.

“Is this too much for you?” He questions.

You stare at the wall, looking at the paintings.

“It’s not too much, it’s just different. Maybe, because it feels like more of an arrangement than anything.”

“How so?” He asks, his interest piqued.

“I mean, you stopped talking to me after you fingered me— because I couldn’t handle you, in your own words. It wasn’t because you wanted to slow things down or because of the age gap, it was because of your sexual desires.”

He sips some of his water, placing the glass on the table.

“It wasn’t inherently sexual. What I showed you was part of me, one of the biggest parts— the part that can matter the most and everything else comes after that.”

“What I want in the bedroom can only be fulfilled by certain individuals and I’d never want to jump into anything without mentioning it.”

You nod, adjusting on the couch so that you’re facing him.

“I understand that and that’s not a part that scares me away or has questions. It was the contracts and that level of control that it seems you have outside of the bedroom. It’s just different.”

He scoots over on the couch, closer to you.

He grabs your hands.

“Hey, when I say that this isn’t an arrangement— I mean that. It’s different for me too and there isn’t any shame in saying that. The sexual attraction is through the roof, but I want you to see other parts of me as well.”

You guys lay on the couch together for a while, just cuddling and talking about nothing. A different kind of vulnerability for both of you, a much needed change in pace.

“Do you want to order pizza?”

Your fingers trace his chest, “that sounds good— but only if it’s from Marciano’s on park avenue.”

He laughs, his hand rubbing your arm.

“Great minds think alike.”

He gets off the couch, going to grab his phone to order pizza and you turn on the tv to kill time.

He comes back a few minutes later, rubbing his hands together.

“I got the food ordered, it should be here in a bit. What are we watching, baby?”

“The family that preys. I’ve never seen it and it comes on in a few minutes.”

He sits down beside you, “I’ve never seen it either.”

The pizza arrives about forty minutes later and gives you two a much needed break from the emotional rollercoaster of a movie.

You both sit on the stools at the counter, eating your pizza.

“Do you travel a lot?” You ask.

He wipes the corner of his mouth, nodding.

“Do I?” He laughs.

“Do you?”

“No, not really. School takes priority and I also don’t like the idea of traveling alone.”

“Well, If you did ever travel anywhere— where’s the first place you’d want to go?”

You finish chewing on your slice of pizza and you sit there thinking.

“I’d like to go skiing in Colorado. I’ve been before but that was years ago.”

“Skiing, hmm. I see you have more skills that I’m hearing about—“

“What else do you do?”

You grab another napkin, wiping your hands.

“I’m really good at soccer and archery. I was on both teams in high school.”

He turns in his seat, looking at you with shock.

“Archery and soccer? I’m gonna need you to show me that.” He jokes.

“What are your long-term goals?” You pry.

“Big ones or small ones?”

You shrug, “both.”

He taps his fingers on the counter.

“My biggest goal overall is that I want to focus more on myself. I’ve always been business oriented and focused since I was young, something my mother instilled in me. I’m older now and I want more out of life than worrying about work or making money.”

You walk over the sink, rinsing your plate off and washing your hands.

“Do you think that wanting more out of life is in connection with wanting to settle down or just having more time to yourself without thinking of work?”

You turn facing him, leaning up against the counter.

“Settling down, a wife and children wasn’t exactly what I was ever looking for. For the longest, I struggled with making romantic connections outside of what fulfilled my desires. I’ve just within the last two years gotten over that and want something more than sex.”

You listen to what he’s saying and give him your undivided attention— but you’d be lying if you said that you didn’t have questions.

For a few hours after that, y’all continue watching movies before he eventually invites you into his bedroom to go to sleep.

His bedroom is huge— almost bigger than your damn apartment. The room is clean, so clean that you could probably eat off the floor.

Dim, ambient lighting.

Black, silk sheets on his bed.

Everything is organized to an extraordinary degree.

“Babe, I don’t have anything to sleep in.”

He scratches his brow, “I forgot about that.”

He walks into his closet and comes back out, handing you a Bone Thugs- N- Harmony shirt.

“You can sleep in this.”

You pull your blouse off— folding it and placing it in his chair along with your skirt.

He sits on the edge of the bed, biting his lip and admiring you.

“Come here, baby.”

You walk over to him, standing in front of him and slowly straddling his lap.

His hands rubbing your thighs and ass.

“You look so good in this set.”

He kisses your neck and sprinkles them down your chest.

You can feel the bulge in his sweatpants growing.

You slide off his lap and onto your knees.

“Baby?”

“Shh. Let me be in control of this.” You put your hand to his lips and slowly push him back.

Your heart is racing as you pull his sweatpants down. Your hand rubbing over his dick in his boxers, teasing him.

You slowly pull his boxers down, his dick springing free.

You sit there in awe, it's way bigger than you expected and way bigger than you’d want to take for your first time.

His tip glistens with precum coating it.

You wrap your hand around it, barely able to with how thick it is.

Your tongue swipes his slit, licking up the precum and you see his legs twitch.

You pump his dick a few times, a heat filling your stomach from how much this turns you on.

A few groans leave his mouth as you slowly stroke him.

Spit fills your mouth from the excitement of sucking his dick.

You push the tip into your mouth, spit dripping down his as you try pushing every inch down your throat.

You remember the trick Lane told you about, so you breathe through your nose to keep from gagging.

“Shit.” Smoke grunts.

You bring your head back up, rubbing the spit around.

You start sucking his dick, your head slowly bobbing up and down.

Smoke makes you stop, sitting up.

“Damn, you’re making a mess baby.”

You keep sucking, your tongue trailing the veins.

“Fuck.” He grunts.

“Baby, is it okay if I try something different?”

You nod.

He places his hands on both sides of your head, thrusting his dick into the back of your throat.

He throat fucks you, his moans filling the air.

Spit drips down your chin and onto your chest.

You gag a few times, but you’re surprisingly good at keeping it under wraps.

“You look so fucking good, your mouth full of my dick.”

Hearing him grunt, moan, and groan from the pleasure of fucking your mouth has you soaked.

He pulls out abruptly, stroking his spit covered dick.

“Open for me.”

You open your mouth, sticking your tongue out.

“Mhmm.”

He lays the tip on your tongue, eyes rolling back as he paints it white.

You keep eye contact with him, closing your mouth and swallowing.

He walks away, grabbing a towel and bringing it over to you.

You wipe your mouth and chest.

“I’m going to go take a shower. Do you want to join me?”

He winks, pulling his boxers up.

“Of course.”

He grabs your hand, walking you into his bathroom.

The bathroom isn’t far from the size of the bedroom, a dream bathroom for you.

The floors are heated, there’s a bathtub and a huge walk-in shower with two heads.

The windows are tinted with an amazing view of the city and people below.

He turns the shower on, letting it heat up.

“Are the floors too warm for you? I can adjust the temperature.”

You laugh, “that’s something I never thought I’d hear.”

He walks over to you, wrapping his arms around you as you stare out the window.

“This is a view that I could get used to.”

You both get into the shower both using the separate heads. At first you're nervous about him seeing you naked, but the way he gets hard all over again— you realize that you were nervous for nothing.

You lather your body in soap, humming a song that you heard earlier on the radio.

The water runs over your body, the soap washing down the drain.

You turn to see Smoke watching you and admiring you from his side.

“You got me feeling a way that I haven’t felt before.” He admits.

You start to smirk, “that’s just the sexual aspect.”

He walks over to you, placing his hands on your waist.

“I mean it, though. You’re different.”

“Am I?”

He nods.

You pull him close, your lips crashing into his.

You pull away before getting too carried away, “let’s finish showering. We need to get in the bed.”

Y’all finish up the shower— you put on the shirt he gave you and make your way back into the bedroom, Smoke following right behind you. 

Y’all cuddle in the bed and exchange a few words, but it doesn’t take long before you’re asleep with your head on his chest and lightly snoring.

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗

A couple of months down the line, you were sitting on his porch after dinner, in the dark and warm air, thick with honeysuckle and smoke. He'd taken off his boots, feet resting on the railing, and his button-up shirt was half undone from a long day's work. You could still see the dirt at the cuffs of his sleeves and the muscles in his forearms as he rolled a cigarette.

"Bo said you were askin' about me," he drawled without looking over.

"Maybe I was."

"What for?"

"I like the way you work so hard, and you look mighty fine doin’ it."

He laughed then, a low rumble that curled across to you and settled somewhere deep in your chest.

"You flirtin' with a nigga?"

"I have been this whole damn month, but I guess you don't catch on to subtlety."

The cicadas filled the pause, and he took a slow drag off the cigarette, finally meeting your eyes through the smoke.

"You keep talkin' like that," he said quietly, "AndI ’m 'gon forget how to be polite."

“I ain’t askin’ for polite, Smoke. I just need twenty minutes of uninterrupted fuckin’.”

“Well, shit,” he stood and ashed his cigar. “Let’s go then.”

Little did you know, those twenty minutes weren’t going to be nowhere near enough for you.

So, a lot could definitely change in a year.

Smoke’s wagon was parked behind your place most evenings now, tools stacked neatly, shirt hung over the railing. Folks in town stopped asking whether or not he was coming by. Now they just nod whenever they see the two of you together.

You were in the front yard shelling peas when he came up from the road, sweat darkening his undershirt, tobacco smoke trailing behind him. He didn’t speak right away; he just tipped his hat, his eyes soft the way they got when he’d been gone too long.

“You eat yet?” he asked.

“Been waitin’ on you,” you replied.

He grinned, settling beside you, taking over half the bowl of peas without being asked. His knees bumped yours as you both shared a comfortable silence.

“Stack say you got me spoiled,” he muttered after a while.

“He jealous or complainin’?”

“Both.”

You laughed, and that’s all it took for the air to thicken. The kind of laugh that turned into a hum when he brushed your wrist, the kind that said we been doin’ this long enough to know where it’s headed.

He leaned back on his hands, watching you. He’s been watching you a lot more lately. You knew by now to wait for him to initiate the conversation, but you were getting kind of antsy.

Finally, he asked, “You ever think we done tied ourselves too tight?”

“If we have,” you said, “I don’t hear either of us hollerin’ to be free.”

You had a feeling that wasn’t all on his mind. Maybe he’d just come out with it after a nice meal.

Your plates were nearly empty now; the oil lamp threw soft light across the table. Smoke went quiet again, spoon idle in his hand. It wasn’t the tired kind of quiet; it was the kind that carried a question he’s nervous to ask.

You glanced up, anxiety getting the best of you. “Why you keep starin’ at me like that?”

He looked down once, then met your eyes. “Ain’t nothin’, Y/N. Just thinkin’.”

“You been ‘just thinkin’’ all week, Smoke.”

The screen door rattled in the wind. He set his spoon aside and folded his hands on the table. “Guess I been watchin’ you and…wonderin’ what comes next,” he says slowly. “A man works, eats, sleeps. But I look at you, and I start picturin’ more than that. Somethin’ that’s ours.”

You study him, the flicker of the lamp painting his features in gold and shadow. “That what’s been eatin’ at you?”

He nodded slowly, reaching one hand across the table and placing it firmly on your stomach. That’s when it finally hit you. That is what he’d been thinking all this week while staring a hole through your head.

“Elijah Moore,” Your smile appeared slowly. “You tryin’ to tell me you want to fill me up with your all your babies?”

The look he gave you was something so sharp and dark you didn’t know if you should be a little scared or excited.

He nodded, a rough thumb tracing the grain of the table. “I ain’t talkin’ outta pride, I swear. I just—every time I see you laugh, I think about how the world oughta keep that sound somehow. Maybe through me. Maybe through you.”

The words hung there, heavier than the August air. You placed your hands on top of his on your belly; it was still warm from the day’s work.

“You always think too far ahead,” you teased, but your voice was softer than the joke deserved.

“Ain’t some things worth plannin’ for?” he murmured. “Like our legacy.”

“You mean lineage?” you quipped.

“Well, yeah, but legacy too. The Moores will make our name in the world. Believe ‘dat.”

Outside, the crickets started their night song. He squeezed your hand once, slow and certain, the way a man seals a promise without needing to say more.

You smirked, and before you could think more on it, you blurted. “Want to start practicin’ tonight?”

His brown eyes widened in surprise. “Huh?”

You rolled your eyes and giggled, “You heard me, nigga. You want to put a baby in me tonight or you too tired from workin’ all day?”

He couldn't suppress a grin. “I ain’t never too tired to fill you up.”

You stood, his hand dropping back onto the table. “Well, let’s go then.”

He didn't respond. He just watched your retreating back. Thoughts racing a mile a minute.

Eventually, he slowly rose to his feet, trying to act calm, cool, and collected, but you knew he was a jumble of anxiousness and excitement…and honestly, so were you.

You glanced over your shoulder at him, raising an eyebrow in challenge.

Apparently one heated look from you was enough for his restraint to snap. In two long strides he was in front of you, scooping you up in his arms without a warning and stomping towards the bedroom.

“Wait!” You squeaked, smacking his shoulder. “Elijah!”

He put you down gently after stepping into the room. You made quick work of removing your dress and undergarments. He kicked his shoes off while taking his clothes off. The fading light from the oil lamp on the dresser cast both your eager shadows on the wall.

He laid you down on the bed gently before joining you, cursing softly, hypnotized by the delectable folds before him, wet and juicy and all just for him. He spread his calloused hands across your inner thighs, a stark contrast with your soft skin.

He bent over until his face was right above your spread thighs, inhaling your scent. “Tonight’s all about you,” he said softly, placing his hand over your pubic bone, your soft dewy curls teasing his palm as his thumb taps rhythmically over your clit. “I need you as relaxed as possible so it’ll take.”

He was always careful with you, but tonight you could feel his deliberateness with every glance, touch, and grip.

He flattened his tongue against you, lapping up her slick. You whined as he flicked his tongue over your bundle of nerves.

“Mmm,” he hummed against you. “You probably ‘gon taste even better once you’re pregnant with my baby.”

You moaned loudly as he continued teasing your lips with strong licks, jerking beneath him as he confidently closed his lips around your clit.

It didn’t take long for you to come. His tongue was too good. Still, his head stayed buried between your thighs, and his lips were still locked around your clit.

“Elijah, pleaseeee.” You whined, not sure if you were begging him to stop or keep going.

Smoke kissed your sensitive clit one last time before trailing his tongue back up your stomach, stopping at your breasts, sucking on your dark nipples before continuing his ascent of tender kisses up your body, stopping just under your ear. He nipped at your neck, causing you to gasp his name. "Elijah!”

He chuckled softly before pressing his mouth onto yours. “You make a nigga crazy with them pretty ass noises, you know that?”

"Please fuck me." You managed to whisper against his lips.

He pressed one final kiss on your lips before lining the cock of his erection up with your entrance. He glanced down into your eyes, lifting his eyebrow in question. "You ready for me?"

You nodded vigorously, wanting nothing more than to feel him inside of you.

He pushed inside you, groaning as he sank all the way inside of you and bottomed out. "Shit—always so fuckin’ tight."

Smoke rocked into you with deep, slow strokes, waiting patiently for your walls to stretch just a little more around his girth. All you could do was moan. He always felt good, but tonight was different. The air felt charged as if it knew the two of you were in the process of creating something.

You grabbed his face, pulling him down closer into a heated kiss, your fingers messing with his curls at the nape of his neck as he slipped his tongue past your lips and into your mouth.

“Please fuck me harder.” You gasped against his lips. “And don’t stop until you put a baby in me.”

He paused, inhaling sharply, brown eyes damn near black with lust. He pulled all the way out of you before slamming his full length back inside of you, damn near knocking the wind out of you.

“Ohh fuck!” you yelped, eyes fluttering closed as he set a relentless pace, drawing all kinds of obscene noises from you.

“Uh-uh, open them pretty eyes while I’m deep in this pussy.” He panted, thick fingers gripping your chin.

Your eyes shot open, locking onto his lust-filled ones, holding on to his shoulders as he slammed you into oblivion. He threw one of your legs over his shoulder, the new angle causing him to hit that sweet spot that resided deep inside of you.

He grunted as you tightened around him. “I’m ’bout to make you a Mama. You ready for that?”

The way he said it made your head spin and thighs shake. “Fuuuck, I’m cumming!”

“Hmph. I'll take that as a yes then.” He groaned deeply, “Give me all of that shit.”

Your orgasm ripped through you, and you hollered so loudly that Fantasia and Jennifer Hudson would be so proud of you.

He kissed the side of your leg, sinking his teeth into the meaty calf as he fucked you through your orgasm and chased after his own.

“Please cum for me,” you begged in between whimpers. “Fill me up. I want it to leak outta me.”

“Shit—baby, I’m about to cum,” he warned, his thrusts sloppy and erratic, his grip tight on your knee. “You want this cum?”

“Yessss,” you squeaked, tears of bliss running down your cheeks. “I want to make you a Daddy! Don’t stop until my belly is swollen with your baby!”

He damn near howled at the moon. Exhaling so sharply you thought he was choking. He came with a shout, spilling so deep inside you a chill ran across your skin and your stomach fluttered.

Every nerve in your body felt like it was on fire, but in the most pleasurable way. Your body felt like it was preparing for a meet and greet with the ancestors.

He pulled out, catching a glimpse of his seed seeping out of you before flopping beside you, completely spent. Smoke turned on his side and pulled you against his chest. You kissed his chest, still turned on. You wouldn’t mind a round two even if his come was still dripping down your thighs. To be completely honest, you didn’t want to be able to walk straight tomorrow.

He drew small circles on your back with his index finger, while his other hand rested on your belly. “You think it took?”

You giggled, “If not, we get to try again.”

His spent dick was already hardening against your thigh.