#msbigredmachine writes

The dim fluorescent light in Roman’s locker room hummed faintly as you pushed the door open. You’d been searching for him all day. Meetings, creative briefings, segment reviews—none of it could move forward without him. But he’d been ghosting everyone, including you of all people, one of his closest friends behind the scenes. It wasn’t like him to disappear, especially not when you were scheduled to run through one of the most important segments for tonight's episode of SmackDown involving him and the rest of the Bloodline. But there he was, sitting in the corner, head bowed, his long hair cascading forward like a curtain shielding him from the world. You noticed the subtle rise and fall of his chest and the tremor in his hands. His massive frame seemed diminished—small in a way that set off alarm bells.

“Roman,” you called softly, stepping inside, coming closer.

He didn’t respond.

You crouched before him, the smell of musk and faint cologne mingling with the tension in the room. “Roman, I’ve been looking for you all day. We need to go over—”

Reaching out, you pushed back his hair gently. Your heart dropped when his eyes met yours—there was a faint, yet jarring discoloration on his cheekbone, purpling against his tanned skin.

“Is that a bruise?” you asked, your voice low and tight. Without thinking, your hand reached out to tilt his face toward the light above. His jaw tensed under your fingers. “What the fuck happened?”

Roman flinched, tilting his head away. “It’s nothing. An accident.”

“An accident?” You exhaled sharply, anger bubbling in your chest. “That’s what you told me the last time!”

“It doesn’t matter,” he said, his voice low and guarded.

“Yes it does!” you continued. “You only wrestle on PLEs, Roman, so where the hell are these injuries coming from? I’m not an idiot!”

“Just drop it,” he muttered, his voice thick with shame.

Your mind raced. The memory of his “accidents” flooded your mind. Last week, a split lip. Two weeks before, ugly scratch marks on his neck that forced him to wear his hair down. But this time, the dots connected. Your stomach churned as the realization hit you like a freight train. 

Sabine.

That beautiful, manipulative, venomous witch you never liked. The same one who dripped perfection in public and poison in private. She clung to Roman like a parasite, feeding off his fame, draining his strength and his pockets. You had seen right through her from the start but Roman had fallen for her. Hard. And now, it was breaking him.

“No.” You rose to your feet, the weight of your fury grounding you. “No, Roman. I know who’s doing this to you.”

His shoulders stiffened.

“It’s that fucking psycho, isn’t it,” you spat, “What did she do this time? What did she—”

“Don’t call her that!” he snapped, standing abruptly. He loomed over you, his chest heaving, but his eyes betrayed him—pleading and broken. “It's not what you think. She loves me. She just…has her ways.” The words came out hollow, almost like he was trying to convince himself. 

“Well she sure has a fucked up way of showing it!” you shot back, tears pricking your eyes. “You deserve better, Ro. You know you do!”

Roman stood abruptly, towering over you, his presence as commanding as ever, but the cracks in his armor were all too visible. He raked his hand through his hair, his face clouded with emotion. “We’re working it out on our own. We are. Just…please don’t tell anyone. I’m begging you.”

“So I should be quiet until she seriously hurts you? Injures you so bad it ends your career?” Your voice cracked. “Roman, a person who truly loves you would never put their hands on you!”

“Stop,” he said firmly, his voice a strained plea. “Look, I don’t wanna talk about it no more. Just...stay out of it. Please.” He turned and stormed out of the locker room, the echo of his departure leaving you alone with your racing thoughts, a storm of anger and heartbreak swirling inside you.

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

Two weeks passed. Two agonizing weeks of you avoiding Roman and Roman avoiding you, knowing he wasn’t ready to hear the truth. That woman was physically abusing him and for some reason he couldn’t leave her. You were desperate to help him but you didn’t know how.

He never opened up about the full extent of Sabine’s abuse, but pieces of the truth started to fall into place when you confided in Naomi. The two of you were backstage during a SmackDown taping when the subject of Sabine came up. Naomi’s expression darkened, her usual bubbly demeanor replaced by a rare seriousness.

“I know Roman says to mind our business, but I have to tell you something,” Naomi said hesitantly. She glanced around, making sure no one was eavesdropping. “Jimmy and I went on a double date with them a couple of months back. And, girl, I couldn’t believe the way Sabine talked to him.”

Your stomach sank. “What do you mean?”

“She ripped into him right there at the table, over something stupid,” Naomi explained, her voice low but tight with anger. “He forgot to order her drink or something, and she just…snapped. Called him useless. Told him he was ‘lucky’ she even gave him the time of day. In front of us, no less.” Naomi’s fists clenched at the memory. “Jimmy almost got up to defend him, but Roman brushed it off like it was nothing. Just laughed like it didn’t bother him.”

You shook your head, your jaw tightening. “And Jimmy didn’t say anything?”

“Of course he wanted to, but Roman told him not to. Said she was just having a bad day.” Naomi paused, her voice softening. “I didn’t want to push, but you could see it in his eyes. He was embarrassed. Humiliated.”

Your blood boiled as Naomi continued.

“She didn’t stop there, either. Every time he tried to speak, she interrupted him. Or rolled her eyes. At one point, she even said, ‘What kind of Tribal Chief can’t handle a simple dinner reservation?’ Like, who says that to someone they love?”

You exhaled sharply, your heart breaking for Roman while fury built in your chest.

“That’s when I started to notice the little things,” Naomi added. “How he doesn’t talk about her much, how he flinches sometimes when she raises her voice. I hate seeing him like that, but he’s so damn proud. He won’t let anyone help him.”

He used to be so full of life. The Roman Reigns that everyone knew—The Head of the Table, the sweet, shy guy who still commanded the attention of any room he walked into, the guy who’d throw you into a headlock just to make you crack a grin. Now, it was like he was just going through the motions. There was a hollowness to him, a dullness that wasn’t there before. Sabine has stripped him of his fire, and you were not sure if it was ever coming back.

Naomi reached out to squeeze your hand. “You’re close to him. Maybe closer than anyone else. I think…I think you might be the only one he’ll listen to.”

You swallowed hard. Roman’s pain was worse than you’d imagined, and your resolve to help him only deepened.

But one social media post torched your plans and shattered your heart into a million pieces.  

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

Scrolling through your phone during a rare moment of downtime, an Instagram notification caught your eye. Seeing it was Sabine’s page, you were hesitant, but curiosity got the best of you. The pinned post showed her perfectly manicured hand adorned with an obnoxiously large diamond ring, resting in Roman’s palm. 

You stared at the screen, your chest tightening with a mix of rage and anguish. You couldn’t breathe. The room around you seemed to tilt, and tears blurred your vision.

How could he do this? How could he propose to her?

You couldn’t stop yourself. With shaking fingers you dialed Roman’s number.

“Hey,” he answered.

“What the fuck is wrong with you, Roman?” you snapped, skipping pleasantries. “You proposed to her? After everything?”

He sighed, the weight of a thousand unspoken truths in his voice. “You wouldn’t understand.”

Your breath caught in your throat. “I wouldn’t understand? Try me,” you fired back. “Explain to me how proposing marriage to the woman who’s beating you makes any sense at all.”

“It’s not that simple,” he said, his voice quieter, sadder.

The laugh that escaped you was stripped of any and all humor. Angrily, you hung up, tossing your phone onto the bed. The tears you didn’t realize you were holding spilled over, breaking down, not for the first time, over him.

Why couldn’t he see you? Why couldn’t he see how much you cared for him—how much you loved him?

Why?

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

The jet ride to Europe was eerily quiet as you settled into your seat across from Roman. You’d barely spoken since the news of his engagement broke, but you couldn’t ignore how miserable he had been since. It was also impossible to not notice his painfully conscious attempts to keep his sunglasses firmly in place despite the dim cabin lighting.

“Take them off,” you told him quietly.

“What?”

“The sunglasses. Take them off.”

He hesitated, his face a mask of barely concealed terror. Reluctantly, he slid them down, revealing the fresh cut on his upper cheekbone.

You exhaled sharply, your chest tightening with anger. “What did she do this time?” you asked, your voice soft but firm.  

He didn’t answer, but the way his shoulders slumped told you everything. Tears welled in his eyes, and your heart broke all over again. “Roman, tell me,” you pressed.

Roman looked away, his jaw clenched. “She threw her phone at me,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper, cracking under the weight of his confession.

Your hands curled into fists. “I swear to God…”

“It’s fine,” he said quickly, “It was my fault…I shouldn’t have made her mad. I-”

“Stop it!” Your voice cracked. “Don't you dare blame yourself. This was not your fault!”  It baffled you. You were a hothead by nature, but you’d never, ever lay hands on anyone unprovoked, especially not someone you loved. You didn’t understand why he was letting this happen to him. 

The tears began to climb, but with great effort, you pushed them back down. “Roman, you need to talk to someone. Please,” you said gently, no longer above begging. You couldn’t stand seeing him like this anymore, the man you’ve known for so long reduced to this version of himself that barely even felt human.

He shook his head, a bitter laugh escaping him. “I’ve got it under control.”

But it wasn't true. It simply was not true and you both knew it. “Under control?” you repeated, incredulity lacing your words. “Roman, have you seen your face?”

His eyes flickered with something—regret, maybe. “I’m fine.” Again, the words came out like an automatic response, a lie he was telling himself, desperate for it to come true.

“No, you’re not,” you responded. “You used to have this fire, this… drive.” You paused, struggling to find the right words, your frustration bubbling up. But it’s not directed at him. “And now, you’re a shell of yourself and I blame her. She’s breaking you. Please…swallow your pride and leave her!”

His gaze hardened, but it was more out of guilt than anger. “I...I can't...I love her. And she loves me,” he muttered, another weak excuse, fooling nobody. 

You couldn’t take it anymore. The sad truth of it was suffocating. “Sabine does not love you, Roman. If she did, she wouldn’t be doing this to you. She wouldn’t treat you like you’re nothing. She wouldn’t tear you apart piece by piece and make you feel like you’re unworthy of love.”

Roman finally met your eyes, and for a moment, you saw a glimpse of the man he used to be. But just as quickly, it vanished.

You wanted that man back. Badly.

“Come here,” you whispered.  

Roman hesitated, but you patted the seat beside you. When he finally shifted closer, his walls crumbled. He collapsed into you, his broad shoulders trembling as you wrapped your arms around him. His big frame somehow felt small and fragile as he curled up against you, like a wounded puppy seeking solace. 

“I’m not weak,” he said through gritted teeth, his voice breaking.

“You’re not weak,” you repeated softly, stroking the top of his head. “But baby, you are hurting. You're unhappy. I hate seeing you like this.”

Roman exhaled shakily, like the weight of the world was pressing on his back. “I don’t know how to get out of it. I feel trapped with her, yet at the same time I feel like I can't breathe without her,” he admitted quietly. “I don’t know what to do and I'm so fucking tired.”

“Oh, baby,” you murmured, kissing his temple, squeezing your eyes shut as your tears and his flowed together. “I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.”

As you comforted him and cried with him, your mind raced, quietly strategizing, plotting. It was crystal clear that Sabine wasn’t going to stop until Roman was utterly destroyed. You would die before you let that happen.

It was time you took matters into your own hands.

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

When you returned to the States, you made your move. Roman might have begged you to stay out of it, but you couldn’t stand by and watch him suffer. Sabine needed to be dealt with.

Damn the consequences. He would thank you for it later. 

You stood outside Sabine’s apartment, the same one Roman was paying for, the edifice as gaudy and ostentatious as she was. Your blood boiled as you raised your hand to knock. But the door was slightly ajar, and inside, you heard sounds that made your stomach churn.  

That trifling bitch.

The place reeked of perfume and deceit, at least those were your thoughts as you burst through the door unannounced. The scene before you confirmed everything. Sabine, tangled in white rumpled sheets, on top of another man—a married man, judging from the mark of his wedding ring still visible on the fingers gripping her gyrating hips.

“You have got to be kidding me,” you muttered, pulling out your phone. You snapped pictures, the flash startling the couple.  

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Sabine screeched, scrambling to cover herself.  

“Exposing your sorry ass,” you replied coldly, turning your attention to the man with a death glare. “And you. Go back to your wife, with your thirsty ass.”  

The man froze, unsure of what to do, while Sabine lunged at you, her expression a mix of fury and panic. “Get out! Get the fuck out, you crazy bitch!”

But you were ready. “You damn right I’m crazy!” Blocking her first swing, you shoved her back, rushing forwards and tackling her with a spear that Roman would have been proud of. You both went flying over the bed but you were on her like white on rice.

The fight was brutal, a messy flurry of punches, slaps, and screams. But you had rage on your side, and Sabine was no match for it.

“You think you tough, huh?” you growled, pinning her down and raining blow after blow on her exposed ribcage. “You wanna put hands on a man cuz you know he won’t hit you back? Try that shit with me, bum ass ho!”

Sabine clawed at you, but you dodged her attacks effortlessly. You landed a solid punch to her jaw, sending her head snapping back and crumpling to the ground.

“Get up,” you hissed, your chest heaving as you dragged her by her hair across the linoleum floor. “Get your ass up!”

Her partner stood frozen in the corner, too much of a coward to intervene. Smart. He didn’t want this smoke. You delivered a swift kick to Sabine’s side followed by another punch, your anger boiling over. Each blow was cathartic, a release of every ounce of pain you’d witnessed Roman endure.

The cuts. The bruises. The tears.

For him, you held nothing back.

“That man loves you!” you spat, crouching down beside her as she lay against the wall in a pathetic heap. “Only God knows why but he does. He worships the ground you walk on, and this is how you treat him? You don’t deserve him!”

Sabine whimpered, blood trickling from her lip, her face streaked with tears. “I’m gonna call the cops,” she spluttered.

You laughed darkly. “Go ahead. I dare you,” you hissed, holding your phone in front of her face. “I have pictures of everything you did to him. Every mark, every bruise…all documented. I’ll make sure everyone knows what a lying, cheating, abusive bitch you are. Matter of fact…” You tapped a button and smirked. “The pictures I just took of you and ole boy here? I just sent them to Roman. Maybe now he’ll finally dump your ass.”

Sabine sneered. “You're so desperate. Always have been for that man. No one will believe you or him. Big bad Roman Reigns getting beat up by little bitty me? He’ll be a laughing stock!” 

“See, now that’s where you’re wrong. I dug up the footage of the restaurant where you had your double date with Jimmy and Naomi. You punched his injured ribs in the parking lot. You slapped him in front of the restroom three times. You thought there were no cameras there, didn’t you?”

Sabine’s eyes widened in horror as she saw her career and reputation flash before her eyes. With her last strength, she swung wildly at you, trying to grab your phone. “Okay stop…Don’t, okay? Please don’t! You’ll ruin everything!” The bitch was begging now, pissing you off even more.

“Fuck you!” You slapped her. “Now listen to me carefully,” you said, your voice icy. “You’re going to call off the engagement. You’re gonna disappear and never contact Roman again, or I’ll post everything online. Everything. If you so much as look in his direction, what I’ll do to you will make you wish I killed you tonight. Do you understand me?”

Sabine nodded, trembling from pain and fear.

“Good.” Straightening up, your smirk was cold and triumphant. “Rot in hell, you dirty whore.” Spitting at her feet, you turned on your heel and walked out.

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

Roman’s voice was tense when he called you.

“What did you do?”

“Something I should’ve done a long time ago,” you replied, unapologetic. “That bitch was not only hitting you, she was cheating on you. She deserved worse.”

“Baby, I told you to stay out of it,” he said, but there was no anger in his tone—just exhaustion.

“And I told you I couldn’t. I care too much about you. I wasn’t going to stand by and do nothing any longer.”

There was silence on the other end before Roman sighed. “Where are you?”

“On my way to yours. Are you home?” you asked him.

“Yeah.”

“I’m coming over. I wanna see you.” 

When you arrived at his house, he was waiting for you on the porch. Jumping to his feet, he hugged you tightly, then his eyes lingered on your bruised knuckles. “Your hands…”

“I’ll be fine,” you assured him. “It’s not me I’m worried about.”

Roman’s expression softened, but his eyes were heavy with guilt. “You could get in trouble for this.”

“You’re the goddamn Tribal Chief. I know you can make that shit go away,” you said with a small smirk. “But even if I do catch a case, I won’t care. It was worth it.”

Despite everything, Roman chuckled softly. He looked at you with a mix of gratitude and sadness. “Babe…”

“I’m serious. I’d do it again,” you declared, your voice trembling with all the sincerity you could muster. “I fight for the people I love. That’s just who I am.”

Roman’s gaze searched yours, raw and vulnerable. “Why would you do all this for me?”

Your heart melted as you cupped his face. It was time to come clean. “Because I love you,” you admitted, your voice barely a whisper. “I’m in love with you. And you deserve to have the kind of love I feel for you.”

Roman’s eyes widened, softened, and for a moment, the world stood still. Before you could second-guess yourself, you leaned up and kissed him. To your surprise and delight, he kissed you back, the tension melting from his body. It was a kiss of desperation, relief, and unspoken longing.

When he pulled away, his forehead rested against yours. Emotion flickered in his eyes, relief mixing with hesitation. “I’ve always had feelings for you,” he confessed. “I never acted on it but Sabine kept accusing me of cheating on her with you. She said you only wanted me for my money and the clout. Her exact words.” He frowned. “She said you'd never love me like she did. And I believed her.”

Your heart ached for him. “She lied to keep you under her thumb,” you said gently, taking his hands in yours. “And I would never do that to you, Ro. You mean a whole lot more than that to me.”

He sighed. “I know. I’ve always known. And I love you too, but…I need time. She…she fucked me up. I need to figure out who I am without her.”

Resting your palm tenderly on his cheek., you whispered fiercely, “I know exactly who you are. You’re Roman fucking Reigns. The Head of the Table. The billion-dollar face of WWE. And most importantly, you’re the kindest, most humble, selfless man I’ve ever known. Don’t let her take that from you.”

Smiling his first genuine smile in weeks, Roman kissed your lips again, his relief palpable. “Thank you,” he breathed, “For everything.”

“You don’t ever need to thank me. I’ll do anything for you. And I’ll wait for you for as long as you need,” you promised.

He smiled softly—a happier, hopeful smile. “Thank you. Although…I believe it’ll be sooner than you think.”

Your heart soared. “Good.”

It wasn’t a fairy-tale ending, but it was a start. And that was enough.

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

Roman sits on the black leather chair, his hands clasped tightly, his leg bouncing nervously as the camera crew makes last-minute adjustments to the lighting. The room is quiet except for the low hum of equipment, but the weight of what he’s about to do makes the silence feel deafening. He stares at the floor, his usually confident presence replaced by hesitation and vulnerability.

You stand just off-camera, watching him closely. Despite the months that have passed since Sabine’s abuse came to light, the remnants of her cruelty linger—not just in the faint bruise still visible near his eye but in the way his shoulders tense and his jaw tightens. 

He’s terrified.

“Fuck...I don’t know if I can do this,” he mutters under his breath, barely loud enough for you to hear.

You step forward, crouching beside him so you’re at eye level. “Yes, you can,” you say firmly, your voice steady and soothing. “You’re not just Roman Reigns, the Tribal Chief. You’re Roman Reigns, the human being, the survivor. And someone out there needs to hear what you have to say. You’re going to save lives today.”

He looks at you, and for a moment, you see his doubt waver. You reach out, placing a reassuring hand on his cheek. “Baby, it’s okay. I’ll be right over there.” You point at the spot where you’ve been standing. “You can look at me if you need to.”

Roman takes a deep breath, closing his eyes briefly before nodding. When he opens them, a flicker of his familiar determination shines through. He shifts in his seat, straightens his back, and looks directly into the camera as the red light flicks on.

“My name is Roman Reigns,” he begins. His deep voice reverberates around the room, steady but carrying an unmistakable weight. “You know me as a WWE Superstar, a champion, the Head of the Table. But today, I’m here as something else—a survivor of domestic violence.”

He pauses, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows hard. “For a long time, I stayed silent. I thought admitting the truth would make me look weak. I thought people wouldn’t believe me, that they’d say, ‘He’s a strong man, a wrestler. How could someone like him be abused?’ But abuse doesn’t discriminate. It doesn’t care how big you are, how strong you look, or what kind of life you live. It can happen to anybody.”

His voice cracks slightly as he adds, “Abuse isn’t just about fists. It’s the words that cut deeper than any punch. It’s the control, the manipulation, the fear that keeps you silent. I told myself it would get better. That I could fix it. That my love would be strong enough for her to change. But the truth is, no one changes unless they want to. No one deserves to live in fear—no one. And love should never, ever hurt you or make you feel bad or guilty…or worthless.”

Roman glances down for a moment, composing himself, before looking back at the camera. “To anyone out there who feels trapped, ashamed, or afraid: You are not weak. You are not alone. There is help, and there is hope. You have the strength to break free, and you deserve to be loved and respected.”

Pausing, he casts a nervous glance in your direction. You smile at him, mouthing the words, “I love you.” That seems to bolster him, as his voice has gained a new strength when he continues. 

“I’ve learned that even the strongest among us need help sometimes. Asking for it doesn’t make you less of a man, less of a person. It makes you…human. I needed help, and I got it, and I’m grateful.”

Roman exhales deeply, his gaze unwavering. “Today, I’m standing here not just for myself but for every survivor who’s been told their pain doesn’t matter. It matters. You matter. And if my story can help even one person find the courage to speak up...to break free and walk away...then it’s worth it.”

He nods slightly, his voice softer now but just as resolute. “You are not weak. You are not alone. And you are worth fighting for.”

THE END

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

I hope this wasn't too heavy. I know you guys aren't used to this from me. How did I do?

Protect good men.

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The mirror was very good to her today. It was as though it knew she was in dire need of extra positive reinforcements and affirmations. She liked what she saw. Hair on point. Makeup on fleek. Body tea. Her favorite Black-owned swimwear brand came through with an outfit that was sure to turn heads at a gathering as important as this one. Evelyn looked amazing and felt powerful, a far cry from the timid, naive little girl that Joe exploited all those years ago. 

Still tried to exploit only a week ago, with his bullshit talk about wanting her. Disregarding all the damage he’d inflicted on her self-esteem that took her damn near a decade to overcome. It was clear he hadn’t grown out of his childish mind games and she would not stand for it today or any other day. At least that’s what her brain kept telling her, repeating it over and over in her mind.

If only her body could show the same resolve, because it didn’t seem able to rid itself of the feel of his hands and his lips…his fingers...It was all she’d thought about all week, and her dildo was paying the price…

Aboard the superyacht, it was easy to find him, tall and striking, a drink in his hand as he conversed with Tessa and Khadijah, Wow’s CEO. Evelyn embraced the two ladies warmly and tried to keep her interaction with Joe as brief as possible. Of course, ever the one to take a mile from an inch, he pressed too close when they hugged, his hand on the small of her back, lingering dangerously above the curve of her butt. 

“Can we talk?” he whispered; she could have sworn his lips grazed the shell of her ear.

“No.” Her answer was immediate, a fake smile plastered on her face as she smoothly slithered out of his grasp. Suddenly craving a drink of her own, she made a beeline for the nearest bar and ordered herself a Blue Margarita. If she was going to be stuck on a boat with him for the next few hours, it was wise to make the most of it with a strong drink or two. Or three, depending on her level of anxiety which she fervently prayed would not be through the roof by the end of the day. 

From her vantage point, she watched him be the center of attention, everyone clamoring to be in his presence. A slew of conflicting emotions she wanted nothing to do with rushed through her as several women threw themselves at him, eyeing him up like he was a big juicy T-bone steak. All the girls in school had fawned over him like this back then, and even now she couldn't stop the sharp thorn of jealousy from stabbing her insides. Some things had not changed after twenty years. 

“I’m sorry, but I gotta be a fangirl right now. He is so fine,” Faith swooned, fanning herself. Evelyn wanted to hurl, and not from seasickness. “This is probably a personal question, but Tessa said you and him went to high school together. What was he like?”

Yeah, no one needed to know the truth about them. “He was alright,” was her curt reply, changing the subject before her assistant could pry some more. 

As the party dragged on, she noticed to her chagrin that he was almost always in her line of sight. This big ass man was lurking, hovering around her vicinity under the guise of mingling with other guests. Each time he edged closer, she was quick to extend the distance, caught in a ridiculous game of cat and mouse that she was not enjoying. She sought refuge again at the bar, indulging in three tequila shots the bartender placed before her. She knocked back the first without a breath, followed by the second, letting the alcohol burn her throat and numb her senses. She was reaching for the third when a huge hand suddenly swiped it out of her reach.

“You might wanna slow down with that,” said Joe.

For fuck’s sake!

She could only look on with annoyance as he consumed the shot for himself and slammed the glass on the table. “That was mine,” she griped. 

Ignoring her, he rested against the woodgrain with a huff. “So this is your plan, huh? You gon’ keep avoiding me?” 

Evelyn scoffed. “What makes you think I’m avoiding you?”

“You can’t even look me in the eye right now. The minute I come near you, you take off. Someone must’ve told you I like the chase.”

Her laugh was bitter and cynical. “Typical N’Stink Joe Anoa’i. You think everything revolves around your arrogant ass. I ain’t checkin’ for you, okay? I’ve leveled up.”

“I can see that,” he acknowledged, his tone deepening as his eyes slowly swept down her body. The intensity of his stare had her shifting in her seat. “You’re the most beautiful woman here, Evie. You always are.”

Flustered, Evelyn crossed her arms around herself protectively. "I don't know what you want, but—"

"Isn't it obvious?" he asked, sidling closer.

"What, to harass me some more? You didn't get enough in school?" she ground out, a gasp escaping her when his face neared hers, their lips a hair’s breadth away. That familiar feeling of helplessness she thought she’d conquered long ago overwhelmed her once more, and for a brief moment, she was fifteen years old again, smothered by his domineering presence. He exuded this aura of raw power and heat, branding a sickening cocktail of loathing and longing into her skin. 

"No. I didn't just not get enough," Joe replied. His eyes flickered to her full lips, mouth watering at the memory of their softness pressed against his. "I never got any of you. That was always the problem."

At a loss for words, Evelyn shook her head. She didn’t know what to expect, but this wasn’t it. It was clear he had no plans to make this comfortable for her. Wordlessly, she slid off the stool, sidestepping him and making yet another escape. Despite being in the lovely outdoors, she felt short of air, of breath. Her stomach had twisted in a painful throbbing knot; any more tension and she was going to lose her shit.

She pulled away from the general population and walked around the deck to the rear of the ship. The lower deck took her down a hallway where the guest cabins were situated. Tentatively, she opened one door, grateful to find an empty room. It was much quieter down here, with the music reduced to muted thumping, a welcome respite from the noise outside and the turmoil she’d been plunged into ever since that infuriating man reappeared in her life. She sat down on the small bed and blew out a few breaths, her face to the ceiling, closing her eyes to help her reclaim her composure.

Get your shit together. You’re Evelyn fucking Ashton, one of the most powerful women in fashion. Don’t let nobody play games with you, not even that asshole. He’s nothing to you anymore. Now go back out there and be the boss bitch everyone knows you are!

The door suddenly swinging open startled her. Her stomach dropped as Joe entered the cabin, his massive frame engulfing the door he quietly shut like some kind of horror movie monster. She leapt to her feet, panic swelling inside her.

“What the fuck are you doing?” she stammered, her eyes widening as he approached her slowly, deliberately. She scrambled backwards, unwittingly boxing herself into the corner of the room. 

“I’m not letting you get away again, Evie, not this time,” Joe asserted, still advancing. A warped sense of deja vu overtook her as she was transported back in time to just a week ago, in the break room where this mess began.

“Get out or I’m gonna scream,” she threatened, swallowing hard as he stood impossibly close now, their chests touching. 

His shoulders lifted in a shrug. “Go ahead. As long as you hear me out when you’re done.”

Evelyn stood frozen, numb for a millisecond. Then, rage tore through her; ugly black rage that swept across her mind like dark thunderclouds. Her hand flew up, slapping him hard across the face, the impact rocking him a few steps back.

“Fine! You wanna talk, let’s talk!” she exploded. Struck him again. “You motherfucker! Who are you to demand anything of me? Do you have any idea what you did to me? What you put me through? I was a kid, Joe! A kid just like you and you made my life fucking miserable! Why? Why did you hate me so much?” 

She raised her clenched fists and beat them against his chest over and over. Joe didn’t move, his arms at his sides as he let her lash out. He deserved every blow; his actions had pushed her to this point. He took it even as her strikes became more aggressive, wincing as her nails raked his collarbone at one point. At the first sign of her tiring out, he gently gathered her into his arms, feeling her body tremble against him with sobs that tore at his heartstrings.

“I’m sorry,” he declared softly, cupping her chin to tilt up her tear-streaked face, praying she could see the sincerity in his eyes. “I’m fuckin’ sorry, Evelyn. I was wrong to hurt you.”

It was bad enough that she was crying in front of him. Now her whole body was warm and her loins were pooling from the desire that blazed in his irises. Why was this happening? Why did he still have such an effect on her after so many years?

In a move she both hoped he would and would not do, he dipped his head, brushing their lips together. It made her heart skip and drew a sultry moan out of her as she pressed against him, leaving not even a sliver of space between them. Backing her up against the wall, he licked at the seam of her lips, her sigh giving him the opening to slip his tongue inside her mouth. She could feel every hard plane of his body including the hardness that was growing against her belly, the sexual tension reaching seismic proportions.

“Why are you doing this to me?” she whispered, her voice small and pleading.

Joe's expression softened as he lifted his hand to stroke her cheek. "Because I can’t help myself around you,” he confessed, his breathing as ragged as hers. “I've never wanted anyone the way I wanted…want…you." 

Those words loosened something inside her. He was telling her what she’d wanted to hear for years, what she’d never thought was possible, and the feeling was surreal.

“And I know you want me, too,” he added, a low groan accompanying his kiss on her cheek. “Tell me. Say it to me.” 

Fuck it. Why tell him, when she could show him?

She pulled his head down for another kiss, their lips parting, tongues tangling with every turn of their heads. He wrapped his arms around her body, almost crushing her against the wall as he released her mouth to kiss her neck, suckling her soft brown skin. Evelyn closed her eyes and tilted her head with a soft bite of her lip, captive to the sensations bombarding her. She was only aware of him, of this moment of bliss and what was coming next.

Joe lowered himself to his knees, leaving a trail of wet kisses on her exposed skin on his way down. He gathered her pants in his fists, pulling them down her legs. Her matching bikini bottoms were next, already damp from her arousal, pushing the skimpy material over her hips and past her ankles before honing in on her bare mound. He made a sound of approval as he circled his thumb over her moistening folds, admiring the puffiness of them, and smiled when Evelyn squirmed, sensitive to his intimate touch. He palmed her leg before slinging it over his shoulder, gripping her thigh to hold her steady.

Evelyn bit down hard on her lip to keep from screaming as his tongue lashed against her delicate, velvety folds. He devoured her like he was famished, his mouth giving long, suckling licks to every crevice and every spot it could find. Grabbing his shoulders, she cried out as he slid his middle finger inside her, right along her g-spot, her back arching against the wall from the dizzying sensation. Another finger followed shortly, her wetness immediately coating both digits as he thrust them in and out of her gushy pussy with ease. 

“You taste better than I imagined.” Joe watched her closely, enraptured by the way she licked her lips and her eyes fluttered. He pumped his fingers faster, sucked her pussy a little harder, making nasty sloppy sounds with his warm, fat tongue that had her grinding into his face. It blew his mind how tight and wet she was; he couldn't get enough of her. 

It was with the strength of Samson that Evelyn managed to shove his head away, stomach clenching at the sight of her nectar glistening on his thick beard. “There’s no time, just fuck me,” she scowled. 

The big man’s eyes lit up at her demand as he made his way back up to kiss her, earning another moan from her taste coating her tongue. She pulled away long enough to yank his shirt over his head, her hungry stare fixated on his exposed muscles, the chiseled abs and chest tattoo her hands couldn't resist exploring. She allowed herself a small smile as his eyes shut briefly at her touch. He backed her towards the bed and dropped her flat on her back with him hovering above her. His hand cradled her thighs, spreading them and pressing his erection to her center. With his mouth back on hers, he pulled her right thigh around his hip, grinding against her, with her grinding with him, her fingers embedded in his muscled forearms.

"Please," Evelyn breathed. She knew it was a bad idea. She knew crossing this line would never resolve her past trauma. But she also couldn't help the way she felt, like her world would crumble to pieces if she didn’t feel him on her, in her; if she didn’t finally give in to the urges that he’d awoken after two decades of slumber. 

Joe tugged down his shorts with one hand, and she sucked in a breath at the sight of his dick protruding from a manscaped tuft of pubic hair. It was long and thick with a slight curve, and her eyes began to water when he pushed it against her soaked opening, entering her inch by inch. Despite how wet she was, she was equally as tight, and he had to work to fit into her. 

“Oh my god.” She had expected this. Almost. The stretch of him, this delicious and this full, inside of her. She knew he would go deep, but here he was reaching her in that spot no one else seemed able to locate. He hooked her other knee over his arm, rolling his hips until he was fully sheathed inside her. He rested his forehead against hers, cursing as her inner muscles clenched around him with each thrust. Their eyes locked as his hands pressed down firmly on her thighs, holding her open to take him balls-deep. Their pants and moans mingled with slaps of bare skin echoing in the tiny cabin, all of it blocked out thankfully by the music blaring obliviously outside.

The haze of pleasure had Evelyn squeezing her eyes shut, overwhelmed by the pleasure ravaging her body. Her hands moved up his muscular back, her nails scraping his taut, bronzed skin as he switched up with faster, deeper thrusts. She felt his fingers tighten around the back of her knees, felt his mouth cover her throat with wet, breathy kisses as his voice, low and gruff, penetrated her sex-fogged brain. 

"I never thought I'd see you again," he murmured against her neck, "I couldn't believe you left me.”

"Bull…fuck…bullshit,” She could hardly think straight with his thick dick buried in her, her legs pinned to the bed with no chance to wriggle out. “You hated me, you—fffuuck," Her words disappeared in another groan when he circled his hips, nudging his dick several inches further inside her.

"I never hated you. I hated how you made me feel." One hand came up to yank her bikini top down and knead her breast. "Unsure of myself. Out of character. Weak for you," he continued. “I jerked off to you countless times…I…I couldn’t stop thinking about you. It broke my heart when you left. For years, I missed you. I fuckin’ named my daughter after you-”

Evelyn gaped at him in shock. “Your daughter’s name is Evelyn?!”

“No. Amara. Your middle name.”

There was no time to react to this revelation as his big hands lifted her hips off the bed to meet his thrusts, forcing her mouth open in a soundless cry as he slammed breath after breath out of her with gloriously deep, plunging strokes. The force and power of him made her thighs tremble as her pussy finally gave in, gushing all over his groin. She wanted to cuss him out for making her come so hard, but all that came out of her mouth were pathetic, pitiful moans. Joe's eyes shone with excitement at the mess she was making, relishing every moment of her losing control to him. He gifted her a toe-curling kiss before flipping her over, smacking her bare ass. 

“On your knees,” he ordered.

Too worked up to argue, she positioned herself on all fours and looked back at him expectantly. It was hard to deny how hot it was, seeing this big, sexy ass mountain of a man naked, big hand on his equally big dick, massaging it with her juices. Chuckling at the lust in her eyes, he nudged her thighs further apart and rubbed his palm along her gushy entrance, smearing her mess all over, making her moan.

“Mmm. Pussy drippin’ everywhere. You been needin’ me, huh, baby?” he said.

“Put that dick back in me,” she rasped, bumping her ass against him, eager for more. She felt his tip forge inside her, a tortuously slow entrance that had her chin scraping her chest as she moaned out in pleasure. Inch by inch, his own jaw clenching at the greed with which her pussy suckled him in. As she writhed on his dick, his mouth found her ear, tongue tracing the delicate lobe as he slid in deep from behind with his big body hunched over her. He felt huge from this angle, and Evelyn gasped, her mind spiraling from the fullness of him. 

“Since I left your office, I haven’t thought about anything else but you. All my fantasies from years ago returned and I had to have you…Fuck, Evie, you feel fuckin’ amazing.” He leaned back and yanked her hips higher, deepening the arch of her back. The slap of his heavy balls against her clitoris caused her velvety walls to ripple around the length and girth of him. The shit was so good that she dug her fingers into the sheets, throwing her ass to catch his backshots as she whined his name. The husky growls that escaped from his throat gave away how good he was feeling just like she was, the sounds flowing through them both like beautiful music. 

“You takin’ this dick like a champ, baby. Is it everything you dreamed of, huh?" Joe grunted, his fingers clinging to the meat of her thick hips, bewitched by the sight and feel of the big, round cheeks slapping against his pelvis, the mesmerizing recoil leaving him in a heady trance. Even in his nastiest dreams, it never looked this good. 

“Fuuuuck, yes. Ohhh…” she whimpered, her voice cracking from complete bliss. He seemed determined to bury his dick in her stomach and was succeeding, nestling himself in the tight warmth of her cunt and keeping her in place as she gasped from every inch he made her take. He trailed his hand between her thighs, using two long fingers to strum on her clit, and hissed as she tightened around him right away. “Mmm, this little pussy squeezin’ my shit, you boutta come all over my d-”

Knock! Knock! Knock! 

“Evelyn? Are you in here?”

They both froze as Faith’s concerned voice sounded from the other side of the door. Evelyn’s heart rate accelerated; the door wasn’t locked, so Faith could easily walk in if she wanted to. Her career and her reputation flashed before her eyes, her life ruined yet again because of Joe fucking Anoa’i. She started to scramble out of the bed, trying to get away, but his strong, inked arm locking around her waist put a stop to that. She cast a panicked glance back at him but only received an amused wink in response.

“She asked you a question,” he said for her hearing only, kissing her cheek.

Fighting off her rising anxiety, Evelyn called out as casually as possible, “I’m here, Faith. What is it?”

“Are you okay? I’ve been looking for you.”

“Yes…yes, I’m fine. Just a little seasick-” Her words evaporated when his fingers twined into her hair, gently pulling back, his nose nuzzling the crook of her extended neck. Incredulously, he started thrusting into her again, rolling his hips slowly so as to not make any noise. Her agitation levels were at an all time high, battling with the warm burn he was inducing in her tightening stomach. 

“You sure?” Faith was saying.

His other hand cupped her breast, groping generously as his dick nudged right up against her g-spot. The nerve of him, trying to make her climax again even with Faith mere feet away! “Positive,” Evelyn called out, her pussy clenching when Joe angled her face and slyly tongue-kissed her mid-sentence. It took all of her strength to keep talking. “I’m fine, Faith. Go on. I’ll be out in a minute,” she ground out, praying that she would listen.

“Alright. Will do. You’re missing a great party though, so hurry back!”

The second Faith’s footsteps faded, Joe struck, his big paw on the back of Evelyn’s neck pinning her face-down as he upped his tempo, pounding her out with fierce, needy ruts of his hips. “Good girl, you did so good. Now nut on my dick again,” he encouraged with another hard spank to her ass, breathing out soft moans of his own as his own climax beckoned. 

“Oh my fuckin’ god,” Evelyn moaned helplessly into the mattress. Fireworks burst behind her eyelids, her entire body quivering as it exploded from blinding pleasure. Her pussy pulsed and leaked all over his dick, finally dragging him over the edge as well. She’d never heard anything as sexy as his hushed, almost strangled groans as he released inside her, big dick throbbing, emptying his essence into her soaked depths.

For a long moment, neither could move, recovering from the shock of the last several minutes. His hand lightly smacking her ass caught her off guard as he withdrew from her with a satisfied groan. The warmth of his body disappeared, the weight of the small bed easing as he climbed out of it. The ruffle of heavy fabric was loud in the stunned silence of the room as he picked up his shorts and put them back on. Evelyn squeezed her eyes closed, horror dawning as she emerged from her desire-induced stupor and realized what just happened.

Joe cleared his throat awkwardly. "Evie..."

Ignoring him, she rolled out of the bed, hating that her legs wobbled as she stood. She hunted in her purse for a wet wipe, her back deliberately turned as she cleaned up the evidence of their tryst off her body. Without a word, she threw the wipe into the small trash can in the corner, adjusted her bikini top and slid her underwear and pants back on.

"Evie wait, hold on…Evie…Evelyn!" His deep voice rose, more demanding as he sensed her about to run off again. He was quicker, blocking her path to the door before she could. Despite her shame, her ego couldn’t help but swell at how deliciously rumpled he looked, knowing she did that to him. He ran a hand through the strands of hair that had escaped his once neat ponytail. "Look, I still think we should talk," he said.

It took everything in her to not laugh and cry at the same time. “Talk? After this?!” she exclaimed, "I don't know what I was thinking, but this was a huge mistake." More humiliation shot through her as she realized she'd not only let her high school bully fuck her, but they did it raw on a boat filled with her colleagues! Her assistant had almost caught her, too! The embarrassment was suffocating and she needed out asap.

She moved around him but he stopped her again, his hand catching her wrist. "Baby, hear me out." His jaw clenched, his voice hesitant. "I've been beating myself up for a long, long time for what I did to you." He brushed his thumb over the apple of her cheek. “I wanna make things right. Please…let me make it up to you.”

“You can’t. It’s…it’s too late,” Evelyn argued, painfully aware that she was in a losing battle with her emotions.

"No, sweetheart, it ain’t,” Joe insisted. “I leave town in two days. Have dinner with me tomorrow night. I got a lot to apologize for. Give me a chance, Evie. Please."

Her sigh was tired and resigned, recognizing that he was not going to drop this. So she took the easy way out. "Fine. And after that I never want to see or hear from you again."

Joe chuckled, his arm snaking around her waist and drawing her close. This time she didn’t push him off. A good sign. “You already forgot we’re working together soon. Besides, is that really what you want, baby girl?”

She swallowed. “Yes.”

“You sure?” He leaned down and kissed her softly, his soft lips moving sensually against hers. Like butter next to heat, she was melting into him again, kissing him back once, twice, three times, before she jerked away abruptly. “I ain’t your toy no more, Joseph,” she warned, a frown tainting her beautiful face. “Dinner and that’s it. Text me the time and place and I’ll be there.”

“I’ma make you change your mind about me,” he vowed, the arrogance in his baritone reverberating around the room and caressing her skin.

Meeting his eyes dead-on, a defiant smirk crossed her lips as she opened the door. “Oh, I highly doubt that. See you around, N’Stink.” 

How she got back to the upper deck in one piece, she wasn’t sure. It was as though she was floating on air, her body light as air for the first time in ages. Despite her elation, a part of her still worried about this new, interesting step she had taken and where it would lead her. Confusing. Conflicting.

Faith perked up when she returned. “There you are! I was gonna come find you again.” She peered closely at her boss with a concerned expression. “Hey, are you okay? Feel better? You do look a little flushed,” she observed.

“I’m fine.” Evelyn snatched two flutes of champagne from a passing waiter’s tray and gulped both of them down in record time, ignoring Faith’s bewildered gaze. “Do me a favor?”

“Sure,” said Faith, eager to help.

“When we get off this boat, get me the sluttiest dress and stilettos you can find in my size, and a box of Plan B.” 

THE END.

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

The morning light sprang through the windows and assaulted Delilah’s face, causing her to groan and bury it in the broad, muscular shoulder beside her. She tightened her grip when he began to roll away from her. "Baby nooo, come back," she mumbled.

"You want me to piss right here, girl?" Josh questioned, laughing when she pouted and reluctantly released him to stretch her numb legs. She waited until she heard the bathroom door close and then grunted as she sat up and pushed her hair out of her face. A small, bittersweet smile tugged her lips as the memories of last night came flooding in. 

From the moment Josh had suggested she hang out with him, she knew what he wanted. She had known, when she stepped through the door, what was going to happen. And she had wanted it. She still wanted it. She was pretty sure, at this point, that she was going to want Joshua Fatu for the rest of her life.

Getting to her feet, Delilah grabbed a t-shirt from among the clothing exploding from his suitcase and wandered out of his bedroom, making her way toward the back of the house. It was only about nine in the morning, which was the reason for the near blazing sun as she stepped onto the patio to survey the vast space of land behind Josh's home. Having spent all her life sharing rooms with her older sister and living in cramped edifices like her and Andre’s trailer, owning this kind of peace and quiet and solitude was a big dream of hers. There was something seductive about lounging around a huge piece of property on a lazy morning, dressed only in her man’s t-shirt with a steaming mug of coffee in her grasp.

Bold of her to assume that she still had a man.

She ventured into the backyard and approached the pool, hesitating for a second before stepping into the water, t-shirt and all. She let a few seconds pass before she peeled the drenched t-shirt off her, tossing it aside as she waded further in, her feet kicking gracefully underneath her. The turmoil of the small waves splashing around her seemed to echo her thoughts and emotions. 

She loved Andre, but their latest and most explosive fight had proven that going ahead with marriage would be a mistake they would both regret down the road. He couldn't deal with her choices and she couldn't expect him to. They wanted different things out of life and it wasn't either of their faults. This outcome felt inevitable and there was nothing she could have done to stop it. If she could wrap her head around that truth, she might be able to move on with her life without feeling like a colossal failure.

The sound of Josh's heavy footsteps alerted her from her thoughts. Her back was turned and she pretended to not see him coming, but was certain that seeing her skinny dipping would have him running over. She was right, as she heard the splashing of the water before she felt his hands on her. 

"Whatchu doin' out here all by your fine self? Naked. Without me," he asked gruffly, his muscular arm winding around her chest and pulling her back against his body.

With a sigh of contentment, Delilah pressed her lips to his tattooed arm, slightly disappointed to feel the rough fabric of his swim trunks against the backs of her thighs. "Thinkin'," she answered, allowing herself to enjoy this moment, the feeling of being in his arms.

Seeing her lounging in his pool in absolutely nothing, was more than the IC Champ could take. There was something inherently sexy about a sexy woman walking around freely and comfortably around his abode, and he knew instantly that he had to have her again. "About me?" he asked, his mouth on her throat.

That, along with so many things that she wanted to tell him. But Delilah couldn't bring herself to say the words. Her issues with Andre were hers to deal with, and they had to be separate from her feelings, whatever they were, for Josh. But she really didn’t want to think about that right now. Especially not when he was loving on her like this. 

“Mm-hmm,” was her response, lifting her head, nuzzling her face tenderly against his. “The way you fuck me. The way you take care of me.” Before Josh, she was always one to stick to the rules that kept her safe. Being with him exposed her other side, her wild side. The one that did what she wanted when she wanted. The one that wanted to have sex whenever, wherever, unleashing the inner slut she never quite knew she had. It made her realize more and more, as he began to kiss her, just how much he meant to her. He liberated her. Made it so easy to feel free around him. He encouraged her to be herself with zero judgments. He punished and pleased her, never holding back, never trying to control her. He only wanted to enjoy her and for her to enjoy herself.

His hands slowly roamed her curves as they kissed, moving back and forth between her breasts and thighs, causing her back to arch into his chest. She loved his hands; so big, so expansive like the rest of his body, covering her and claiming every inch of her. She let him move her across the water, wading over to the edge of the pool and bending her over the steps. He tugged the soft flesh of her ass in one hand and used the other to remove his trunks, letting them float away.

“Your ass is so soft,” he moaned, rubbing on her backside in gentle, almost loving kneads. He brought one hand between her thighs, groaning as her essence seeped between his long fingers. “Look how wet Daddy makes this pussy. How I got this shit drippin’.” 

Delilah’s breath caught in her throat as he kept touching her, caressing her pussy with such affection. "Baby," she moaned softly, gasping in surprise when he replaced his hand with his dick, slapping it crudely against her folds. "Fuck," she cried out as he did it again, repeatedly, softening her up for his invasion.

Nibbling on her ear, Josh whispered huskily, "I’m gon’ make you squirt again like I did last night,” he promised, spreading her cheeks apart and guiding his rock-hard shaft into her willing tightness. The breeze was cooler than usual and blowing around them, but there was no chill as their bodies generated a blazing inferno. “I can't keep my hands off you, baby. We fucked all night and I still need more," he moaned, his voice muffled against her shoulder as he rolled his hips, grinding himself into her. “You got no clue what you do to me.”

He thrust forward again, hard, and Delilah yelped loudly, falling onto her knees and elbows as he stood over her, his legs spread wide. Increasing his speed, he ran his palm over her face and chin, his long fingers gripping her throat and holding her up. 

“This my pussy. Ya hear me? You’re mine,” he growled in her ear, slapping her ass hard. When she tried to drop her head between her shoulders, he held her reins firmly, yanking her back again.

"Shit, okay Daddy," she panted, his authoritative grip spinning her in a new direction entirely. The intensity with which he manhandled her was always such a turn-on.

“Damn right I’m yo Daddy, witcho fine ass…Mmm…Sexy ass body…deserves a big dick like mines…” He paused to adjust her legs, closing them together so she felt tighter. It worked a treat as her pussy squeezed and soaked him, making his head loll backward, a groan falling from his lips.

Delilah’s moans were barely audible over the lewd, sloppy sounds of his girthy length plunging in and out of her, going so deep that she felt him in her lungs. Making her delirious. The waves of pleasure washing over her from his hard, steady, pounding strokes felt too good, and though her body screamed for a release, she valiantly fought the urge to let go. She wanted it to last forever. Throwing her head back, she groaned with him, all doubts and guilt evaporating as she let him talk her through her pleasure, filling her to the brim with it.

Though he'd twisted her into several positions all through last night, Josh had never seen her so enraptured. She looked breathtaking. Her breasts bounced from each thrust, her back arched beautifully, plump ass recoiling off his sturdy pelvis, gifting him with the best view of her pink, gushy pussy drenching his dick with her cream. His head spun from how tight her shit was gripping him, taking him deep, suckling his entire length. Still, he fucked her harder, luxuriating in her increasing cries. "You like that, baby? You like me poundin’ this pussy, huh?" he growled, his grin almost manic as he wound her long, thick hair in his fist and pulled. "Mm-hmm, look at me while you take this dick, lemme see that pretty face," he goaded her. 

Like the wanton slut she had become, she obeyed, turning her head in a slow daze. The desire in his beautiful eyes, the lust in his voice, the precision of his strokes, mixed with his taunts and the water splashing around them, were sending her into a tailspin. Her body hummed with new sensations and feelings she didn't know how to counter or want to. "You feel so good, Josh. Fuck me, don't stop, Daddy," she gasped, her palms planted on the pool’s edge in a desperate grip.

He could feel her on the cusp of an orgasm as he slipped his fingers back inside her, pumping, milking her. “I ain’t never stoppin’, baby girl. Love this pussy too much.” With the way moaned and called out for him, calling him Daddy in that breathy, pining voice all while her pussy clenched greedily around him, he knew he wouldn't last much longer. He could talk dirty to her all he wanted, but she was the best he'd ever had, and he couldn't deny it anymore. 

Delilah lurched forward, gasping for air as her climax sent her spiraling. He had her gushing all over his hand just like he promised, her love juices pouring into the pool water. The trembling of her thighs didn’t stop his onslaught, dick and digits stabbing her pussy furiously, heightening her pleasure and his. He thrust all the way up inside her and held himself there, grunting noisily, his grip almost vice-like as he emptied his load . His breath caught at the sound of her giggle, as she deliberately rocked back against him, intensifying his release, his dick twitching inside her warm depths.

Gathering her breasts in his hands, Josh rested his face in the crook of her neck, inhaling her scent, feeling her fingers thread through his hair as his breathing began to even. "Fuck. That's my girl. So fuckin’ good," he mumbled, groaning softly against Delilah’s mouth as it captured his own.

He had made her no promises. They might never have a future together. Her career was just beginning and her betrothal to Andre was ending. Everything about the situation spelled complete disaster, but still, Delilah felt an eerie sense of calm passing through her. She had no idea what was going to happen next, but she just knew that she would turn out okay.

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

Though he'd had his suspicions for months, Tank had chosen to ignore the fraternizing that he was sure was going on between Josh and Delilah. For one, Josh hadn't visited nearly as much in the past five years of their friendship as he had since meeting Delilah. And Delilah had been much more driven toward her career goals since meeting Josh. But he had never truly believed that either of them would actually cross the line. Until now. 

Walking into his longtime friend’s new pad for the first time, the first thing he spotted was the women’s frilly underwear peeking out from beneath one of the cushions in the living room. He figured he had a female companion lurking somewhere, but his eyes almost bugged out of his head when his star student emerged out of nowhere half naked, her own eyes widening before running off screaming upon realization that he was there. It was evident that Josh forgot that he’d invited him over earlier in the week.

"You busy the first weekend of next month, Uce?" Tank asked Josh long after the dust had settled that the awkwardness had dissipated…somewhat. When Josh shrugged, Tank cast a sideways glance over to Delilah seated next to him on the couch, her things packed and ready to go all of a sudden. "I got a call yesterday," he said with a smile. "Your girlfriend here has been listed to participate in the Mae Young Classic."

Delilah’s jaw dropped as she jumped off of the couch. The Mae Young Classic was huge - the tournament had quickly become the premier platform for women wrestlers not just in NXT but around the world, and just being recognized with an invitation was an honor. "Are you fucking kidding me?" she asked, her hands buried in her hair in complete amazement. "The Mae Young Classic? It’s in Vegas this time, right? Holy fucking shit!”

Both men couldn't help laughing at her reaction, leaning back on the couch to watch her exuberance. Delilah had grown into a hell of a wrestler in a short amount of time, but watching her react like a hyperactive high schooler never got old. Her focus, ambition and drive were commendable, but the joy with which she took in each new step of her career was heartwarming. It took Tank back to the days of old, when he had dreams of his own, similar to her own journey before an unfortunate leg injury ended it all for him. "Well, we have to accept, but yeah," he answered.

“Of course I’m accepting! Ohmygodohmygodohmygod!”

The Intercontinental Champion watched Delilah’s happy dance that consisted of a whole bunch of twerking that he hoped would never end. "Unless you hurt your back doin' that lil’ dance there," he teased, disappointed when she did stop.

Blowing a raspberry at him, Delilah shoved her hands against her cheeks and took a deep breath. "That's so awesome," she breathed, though the smile couldn't be wiped off her face if she tried. "But…you don't have to be there, Josh. It’s okay."

With a nod, he stood up and opened his arms to her. "I'll see what I can do," he promised, inhaling the scent of her shampoo as she hugged his waist tightly. Despite Tank's earlier reference, she was not his girlfriend. At least not yet. Though they hadn't left the house since her arrival two days earlier, she was still engaged to the Andre kid. And until she made a final decision on that, he couldn't officially make a move on her.

Josh also knew how busy they were both about to become. He already was. He had known her for several months now, but had only managed to find the time to see her a few times because he was traveling so much. With her move to Orlando, it would only get worse. She would be preoccupied with her training, and there were rumors he would be dropping the IC title to challenge Gunther for the World title at the Rumble next year. Everything was working against them, and Josh knew that he couldn't make a commitment to the woman he realized he was falling for with each passing day.

Walking Delilah and Tank out to his driveway an hour later, he paused when she looked up at him, her hands wringing nervously. "Look, I know you're super busy," she started, "And it’s not like you and I are-"

Resting his hands on her hips, Josh kissed her as though he never would again. For all he knew, he wouldn't. "I’ll see what I can do," he repeated, holding her close. "I'm so fuckin’ proud of you, baby," he whispered in her ear, allowing her perfume to wash over him one more time.

Watching him step back inside his house and shut the door, Delilah let out a deep breath and faced her mentor to address the elephant in the room. "So…tell me how disappointed you are," she mumbled, crossing her arms and bracing herself for the tongue-lashing.

But Tank said nothing. He only ran his hand over his hair, shaking it slowly as he thought about his next words. "You're an adult. It’s not like I can ground you," he said. When she blushed, he considered her for a moment. "You really wanna know what I think?"

"Might as well, you ain’t never held back before," she reminded him with a huff. In all of the time she had known him, Tank had never sugar-coated anything for her, and it was one of many reasons she admired him so much.

Leaning against his truck, he cast her a sideways glance. "Whatchu doin' with Josh? I mean, is this some kinda groupie fantasy? Do you love him? Is that why he finally got off his ass and went through with the divorce?" Normally, it should have been none of his business, but these were two of his closest friends on the verge of making a huge, huge mistake.

Delilah stared at her hands for a moment, her diamond engagement ring glinting back at her in mockery. "No. He said he and his wife haven’t been good for a long time. Nothing to do with me. And it's not a groupie thing," she insisted. Meeting Tank's eye, she scrunched her nose and shrugged. "Will I sound like a total girl if I say that he believes in me?"

"You mean like a groupie? Yes," Tank said bluntly, rolling his eyes when she flipped him off. "Fine. Well, this will sound a whole lot less romantic," she prepped him. "I like the fact that there's no expectations with him. He's a great guy, and yeah, we got a lot in common. But with all this shit I got comin' up, moving and starting my career? I'm not gonna have time to start a relationship. He doesn't have time for one either, so it's cool."

Taken aback by her flimsy explanation, Tank pinched the bridge of his nose and squeezed his eyes shut. "Sweetheart, I coulda sworn you already have a relationship. Why the fuck would you need time to start another one? Explain to me like I’m five."

"Oh," Delilah rolled her eyes. "Andre auditioned for American Idol without telling me." The shocked look on Tank's face must have resembled the one she'd had upon hearing the news two days earlier. "And he got a golden ticket. He’s going to Hollywood for the next round."

The awkward silence that followed would have been hilarious if it wasn’t for the direness of the situation. "So that's why you came over here? To put the final nail in the coffin?" She shrugged, looking like a guilty little girl. "You know that's the bitch way out, right?"

"I was just so angry, Makena," Delilah defended herself. "He spent months acting like all was well, like he was excited about Orlando and he was so proud of me and everything. And then he wakes up one morning and decides he wants to be a singer, and then does that shit behind my back and gets pissed when I'm not jumping for joy about it! What he did was foul, Tank and you know it. You can't defend that!"

He couldn't. However, he wasn't about to condone Delilah or Andre’s behavior. He wasn't sure if it was because they were still so young, but they were definitely acting like prepubescent teens at the moment. "You're a grown-ass woman, Dee. Whether Andre's gonna act like an adult or not, you still have to," he warned. "You're entering a business that demands respect, determination, and loyalty at the highest level. You can't just act on your emotions anymore. You gotta grow up, and fast, otherwise you’ll be out the door before you even take your first bump."

His words stung like a slap to the face, but they also pulled the veil away from Delilah's eyes. Nobody was going to fix her mistakes for her. Nobody was going to make the situation better for her. She couldn't brush it under the rug or pretend her indiscretions were someone else's fault. She had to confront it and confront him, headfirst and bring this to a definitive conclusion.

"Fine," she sighed, rubbing her temples as a headache loomed. But it needed to be done. She had to go home to end this once and for all.

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

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