#obxsmut

You weren’t supposed to take the whole capsule. But when did you ever listen to Rafe Cameron?

You sat on your bedroom floor, head tilted back against the wall, your legs spread wide open because your body wouldn’t stop buzzing. It felt like your skin was on fire, your clit twitching with every breath, every flicker of light, every thought of him. It was pathetic.

You were half-high, half-drenched, and all attitude.

You grabbed your phone and called him again. He picked up on the second ring.

“What now?”

“Oh, so now you answer?”

“You’ve called me four times.”

“Because you gave me that new molly like a jackass and didn’t warn me it was gonna turn me into a fuckin’ nympho. I’m crawling out of my skin over here.”

Rafe groaned low. “Did you take the whole thing?”

“…No.”

“Don’t lie to me.”

“…Maybe.”

“You’re such a dumb fuckin’ brat, you know that?”

“And you’re a dealer with no customer service.”

There was a pause. Then: “Be ready in five.”

He didn’t knock. He never did.

He just shoved the door open and stalked in like he owned the place. His jaw was clenched, dark brows furrowed. You smirked up at him from the floor, practically vibrating.

“Took you long enough.”

His eyes dropped to your thighs—bare, glistening, parted. “You’re seriously dressed like that for me?”

“It’s my house. You’re lucky I didn’t show up naked, since you ruined me with that drug.”

“You ruined yourself. But I’ll clean up your mess,” he muttered, yanking you up by the arm.

“Careful,” you sneered, jerking your hand back. “I’m not one of your little drugged-up whores, Rafe. I don’t beg.”

He chuckled darkly. “That’s funny,” he said, dragging you by the hair to the kitchen counter. “Because I can smell how fuckin’ wet you are from here. Face down.”

“Go to hell—”

He bent you over the counter before you could finish, holding you there with one hand on the back of your neck. “I said face down. You don’t get to mouth off after overdosing on my shit and calling me like some desperate junkie.”

You hissed, squirming, but he kicked your legs apart wider and shoved your tank top up. “God, you’re such a little bitch,” he muttered, palming your ass. “You get high, get horny, and suddenly I’m supposed to drop everything to stretch out this tight little hole like it’s a fuckin’ emergency.”

You gasped sharply when his hand cracked across your ass.

“You like this,” he growled, spanking you again, harder. “Don’t lie.”

Your throat caught on a moan, but you still spat back, “I’ve had better.”

Rafe laughed low. “Liar.”

Then he stepped back—and you heard it.

The sharp metallic sound of his belt unbuckling. The rasp of the zipper. The wet thud of his cock slapping against his abdomen when he shoved both his pants and boxers down in one rough move.

“Look at you,” he said, pumping himself slow and steady. “High, soaked, and still talkin’ shit.”

You twisted to glare back at him, catching a glimpse of him stroking his thick, veiny cock—angry red and already leaking at the tip. Your throat went dry. You hated how badly you wanted it.

“You done playing with yourself?” you snapped. “Or do I have to sit here all night while you jerk off to my ass like some—ahhh—!”

He didn’t wait. He pushed in with one brutal thrust, bottoming out in seconds.

Your eyes rolled back.

He didn’t give you time to adjust. Rafe grabbed your hips and fucked into you hard, dragging your body back to meet every thrust like he was trying to break you in half.

“You feel this?” he hissed. “That’s your punishment. For being a fuckin’ brat. For acting like you don’t need me.”

Your hands scrabbled at the counter, nails digging into the wood. “F-fuck—Rafe—slow down—”

“No,” he snapped. “You wanted this. You called me for this. Now you take what you’re given like a good little drugged-out slut.”

He leaned over you, hips still slamming into your soaked cunt, his chest brushing your back, lips against your ear.

“Say thank you.”

You shook your head, whining.

“Say it or I’ll pull out and make you beg to come.”

“…Thank you,” you choked out.

“For what?” He grabbed your hair and yanked your head back, growling against your neck.

“…For fixing me.”

“Damn right.”

You were trembling now, whole body locking up with heat. You were gonna come and it was going to wreck you. You hated how much you loved it.

“Let me come, please—please—” you begged, drooling, tears pricking your eyes.

“Too late,” he snarled. “You’re already fuckin’ coming.”

And he was right—your walls clamped around him, wet and fluttering, your vision whiting out as the orgasm slammed into you so hard your knees nearly gave out. He kept going, fucking you through it, your name spilling from his mouth in groans, hips frantic, messy—

Then he stilled.

You felt it—throb, pulse, spill. Warm.

“Fuckin’ mine,” he hissed, rutting into you once more. “You don’t go to anyone else for a fix. Not drugs, not cock, nothing. You hear me?”

You whimpered, brain half-melted. “Yeah. I hear you.”

He pulled out slowly, admiring the mess leaking out of you with a satisfied smirk.

“Don’t clean that up,” he said. “I want you to feel me all night.”

You were too fucked-out to answer.

“Next time you talk to me like that,” he added, dragging his fingers along your thigh and sucking them clean, “I’ll make you crawl on your knees and beg with tears in your eyes.”

You still had some brat left in you. “You wish.”

Rafe grinned darkly. “Nah, princess. You wish. I make your wishes come true.”

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