#professor!rafe

secretprofessorboyfriend!rafe who steps back like you’ve just suggested something ridiculous, something he refuses to even entertain. “i am not worth that,” he adds almost defensive now. “you don’t compromise your education over something like this.”

secretprofessorboyfriend!rafe who doesn’t realize how much that stings until he sees your face drop, because to you, it’s not just ‘something like this.’ it’s him. “it’s not that simple,” you push, softer now, but more dangerous. “it’s you.” and he hates how that hits me directly in the chest.

secretprofessorboyfriend!rafe who exhales like he’s already lost. like the decision’s been made somewhere deep down and he’s just catching up to it. he rubs the bridge of his nose, pacing once behind his desk before stopping. “you’re making this very difficult,” he mutters, more to himself than to you. and you just watch him, patient. because you knew too.

secretprofessorboyfriend!rafe who folds because of you. because you look at him like that, eyes wide in a way that’s looks innocent but doesn’t feel innocent. “i want you,” you tell him, like it’s the simplest truth in the world. “and you want me too.” and the worst part? he can’t even deny it.

secretprofessorboyfriend!rafe who stills the second you step closer. like his body betrays him before his mind can catch up. you reach for his tie, fingers curling around it, tugging him just slightly forward, and he tenses. not because he doesn’t want it, but because he wants it too much. his breathing’s uneven, hands flexing at his sides like he’s physically stopping himself from touching you. “don’t,” he says under his breath, but it’s so weak, and not even a real warning.

secretprofessorboyfriend!rafe who closes his eyes for a second like he’s trying to reset himself, trying to remember who he’s supposed to be. but when he looks at you again, you’re still right there. still holding onto him. and there’s something in his brain that’s conflicted, and gone. “you don’t understand what you’re asking for,” he says. but he doesn’t step away, and that’s the moment he loses.

secretprofessorboyfriend!rafe who doesn’t touch you at first. that’s the thing. even when he gives in, even when he finally says, “okay, okay,” it’s still careful, and restrained. like he’s holding himself on a leash that’s already fraying.

secretprofessorboyfriend!rafe who takes you to dinner far across town. somewhere quiet and dimly lit. nowhere near campus, and where no one would recognize either of you. he’s more nervous than you’ve ever seen him, fixing his sleeve, adjusting his watch or clearing his throat multiple times before he speaks.

secretprofessorboyfriend!rafe who brings you a book bouquet because of course he does. carefully picked titles he knows you’ll love, tied together in a way that’s too thoughtful. and tucked inside? a small, delicate diamond necklace that catches the light just enough to make your breath halt. 

secretprofessorboyfriend!rafe who slides the envelope across the table like this isn’t the most nerve wracking thing he’s ever done. and inside? pages of equations. neatly written, and very him. you look up at him, confused, a small laugh slipping out. “what is this?” and he just nudges a pencil toward you, lips twitching. “solve it,” he says, like it’s obvious. and you do, because duh. one by one, working through them, realizing halfway through that each answer gives you a letter. your pace slows, but your heart doesn’t.

secretprofessorboyfriend!rafe who watches you the entire time, quieter than usual, fingers tapping once against the table before going still. because he knows exactly when it clicks for you. the moment your face drops. when you start piecing it together, ‘will. you. be. my. girlfriend?’ and you look up at him like you’re not sure whether to laugh or melt. and he exhales, just barely, like he’s been holding that breath the whole time. “will you do me the honors,” he says softly, matching your pace as you read it, “of making me the happiest man alive, and letting me be your boyfriend?” and you were embarrassingly already nodding before he even finished.

secretprofessorboyfriend!rafe who immediately regrets the wording the second it leaves his mouth. you can see it, the slight wince, the quiet, “that sounded better in my head,” under his breath.

secretprofessorboyfriend!rafe who absolutely melts when you laugh. like visibly relaxing him. tension leaving his shoulders because you’re not running, you’re smiling. and when you say yes? leaning in, pressing a soft kiss to his lips like it’s the most natural thing in the world? yeah. that’s it for him. fuck he’s such a simp for you. 

secretprofessorboyfriend!rafe who freezes for a second when you whisper, “so will this be our little secret, professor?” against his mouth. his grip tightens just slightly where his hand rests on the table, pulling back a little, and his eyes flick to yours, with this dark look. “you shouldn’t say things like that,” he says quietly. but there’s zero conviction behind it.

secretprofessorboyfriend!rafe who becomes even more careful in public. if anything, he pulls back more in class. he’ll linger less near your desk, calling on you the same as everyone else, but maybe even a little less. anyone watching would think if anything, he’s harder on you.

secretprofessorboyfriend!rafe who makes up for it the second the door to his office closes. pinning you to the door, grabbing your neck and pulling you towards him, with that sweet smirk. it always taking you by surprise because where has your sweet innocent professor gone? 

secretprofessorboyfriend!rafe who has you sitting beside him at his desk, not across. that’s the first thing that changes. “it’s easier to go through it this way,” he tells you, already pulling your research proposal closer, shoulder brushing yours like it’s nothing. like it doesn’t make you blush in the best way.

secretprofessorboyfriend!rafe who leans in so close when he’s reading your work. one hand braced on the desk, the other holding a pen, his glasses on the tip of his nose, pointing lightly at sections as he goes.. “this part right here?” he mutters, and you’re not even processing the words because all you can think about is how close his mouth is to your ear. 

secretprofessorboyfriend!rafe who notices. of course he does. he always notices. there’s a small pause, his lips twitching slightly before he continues like nothing happened, but his tone dips just enough to let you know he’s so very aware.

secretprofessorboyfriend!rafe who is your biggest supporter academically. like it’s not even a question. he takes your thesis so seriously, reading every draft, leaving full notes, sitting with you for hours breaking down the structure, methodology, phrasing. “good girl, this is really strong,” he’ll say, tapping the page. “you just need to trust your argument more.” and boy does that do your head in.

secretprofessorboyfriend!rafe who gives the softest praise but it hits ten times harder now. “you’re doing really well,” he tells you one night when you’re visibly frustrated, fingers tangled in your hair, papers scattered everywhere. he reaches over, gently pulling your hand down. “hey. look at me.” and when you do, his expression softens. “you’re not falling behind. you’re refining. there’s a difference.”

secretprofessorboyfriend!rafe who gives the most grounding pep talks. not overly sweet, or coddling. “you don’t get this far by accident,” he reminds you. “you’re capable of this. i wouldn’t let you take this on if you weren’t.”

secretprofessorboyfriend!rafe who stays way later than he should. office lights dimmed, while the two of you are the only ones left in the building some nights. he’ll glance at the clock, sigh quietly, then look back at you. “one more section,” he says, even though he knows he’s not going anywhere until you’re done, until it’s perfect.

secretprofessorboyfriend!rafe who gets a little gentler with physical proximity when it’s just the two of you. not anything obvious, but his hand resting briefly on your back when he passes behind your chair. fingers brushing yours when he hands you a pen. small things that feel huge because of who he is to you. 

secretprofessorboyfriend!rafe who absolutely adores how passionate you are about your topic. “repeat me to your thesis my love” and you have a love/hate relationship with pet names, because his deep musky voice always throws you off. “it’s on the effect of multilingualism on recreational reading behaviour amongst first gen immigrants in a variety of different countries.” and he’ll sit back, just listening to you talk through your thesis, with a small and proud smile on his face. “you’re going to publish this one day, and be so successfuli know it,” he says casually, like it’s factual, and not just a possibility.

secretprofessorboyfriend!rafe who still has those moments where it hits him, what this is. like he’ll be mid sentence, looking at you, and there’s a glimmer of awareness behind his eyes and then he’ll shake it off and refocus, because he’s already way too far in, more than he even realized himself. 

secretprofessorboyfriend!rafe who walks you out of the building late at night, every single time. no discussion. grabbing his coat, keys in hand. “i’m not letting you walk out alone,” he says simply with a little witt, like it’s obvious.

secretprofessorboyfriend!rafe who really does drop to his knees in front of you at the end of date nights, like it’s second nature. one hand lightly on your ankle, the other carefully unfastening your heels, slow and deliberate. “these things are a hazard,” he says, to himself, like he’s offended on your behalf. but it’s the way he lingers after, thumbs brushing lightly over your skin, like he’s not in a rush to move away.

secretprofessorboyfriend!rafe who calls it “respectable” when he lowers himself to your level, but it’s so obviously more than that. there’s something in his face, so focused and almost reverent, like he wants to be there. like he’d rather be looking up at you than anything else, because to him, you’re his goddess.

secretprofessorboyfriend!rafe who is a yearner in the most dangerous constant way. it’s in the way he watches you when you’re not paying attention, the way he remembers everything you say, the way he pauses sometimes like he got distracted just looking at you.

secretprofessorboyfriend!rafe who encourages you to slow down in ways no one else ever has. “go take a bath,” he’ll say quietly when you’re stressed, already standing up to run it for you. the tub is ridiculously large, borderline unnecessary, and you’ve definitely teased him about it, but he just shrugs. “it’s pragmatic,” he insists, even though it’s not, especially on a professors salary. 

secretprofessorboyfriend!rafe who sits nearby while you’re in the bath, because he just loves to be in your space. not only sexually, but mentally. having one leg crossed over the other in his chair, book in hand, reading aloud to you in his calming voice that makes everything sound better than it is. occasionally glancing over the top of the page just to make sure you’re actually relaxing, and you always are. 

secretprofessorboyfriend!rafe who will pause if you go too quiet. “still with me?” he asks, and when you hum in response, eyes closed, he smiles to himself before continuing. like seeing you so peaceful brings him a sense of comfort, because if he’s not making your life easier, than what is he doing?

secretprofessorboyfriend!rafe who loves taking care of you. like sitting behind you with a comb after you’ve washed your hair, carefully working through your hair, patient with every knot. “you need to be gentler with this,” he says after seeing how rough you are with your hair. way more focused on the task than his lectures sometimes, like it genuinely matters to him.

secretprofessorboyfriend!rafe who learns your routine without you ever having to explain it. which products go first, how you part your hair, what you like and what you don’t. and he follows it exactly, like it’s something precise, something worth getting right.

secretprofessorboyfriend!rafe who gets quietly attached to the feeling of you leaning back against him while he does it. the weight of you, the trust in the action. he enjoys way more than he lets on.

secretprofessorboyfriend!rafe who has a thing for your neck and collarbone. he’ll always just absentmindedly press his lips when he’s close to you. like he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it half the time. leaving kisses all over, no matter how giggly you get. 

secretprofessorboyfriend!rafe who smiles against your skin when you squirm, mumbling something about you being “dramatic” when you remind him you’re ticklish, but he still doesn’t really stop. if anything, he just gets lighter with it, more careful, like he’s adjusting instead of pulling away, and his attentiveness melts you.

secretprofessorboyfriend!rafe who finds comfort in proximity. like if you’re both working, he’ll shift his chair just slightly closer without thinking, with his knees brushing yours. he doesn’t interrupt you, or try distracting you, you just feel him there.

secretprofessorboyfriend!rafe who quietly adjusts things in his office for you without ever pointing it out. like there’s always an extra charger now. your favorite type of tea somehow stocked in the cabinet. the chair across from his desk swapped out for a more comfortable one. none of it acknowledged, because it’s just what he’s supposed to do for him. 

secretprofessorboyfriend!rafe who looks at you sometimes like he’s still surprised this is real. like he’ll be listening to you talk, nodding along, and then there’s that brief pause where his expression softens just a little too much before he collects himself again. ‘how can one be so mesmerizing?’ he’ll ask himself.

secretprofessorboyfriend!rafe who never makes a big deal out of how much he cares, but it’s obvious in the way he takes his time with you like second nature. nothing rushed or careless. because you’re something he refuses to mishandle.

secretprofessorboyfriend!rafe who steals the smallest glances at you during lectures. nothing obvious, just quick flicks of his eyes toward where you’re sitting, like a reflex he hasn’t learned to control yet. and if you happen to already be looking at him? there’s the faintest lift at the corner of his mouth before he turns back to the board.

secretprofessorboyfriend!rafe who has, on very rare occasions, given you a blink and you miss it wink during lectures. so subtle no one else notices it, but it hits you like a shockwave, and he just continues explaining like he didn’t just completely derail your ability to think.

secretprofessorboyfriend!rafe who finds teaching your class almost unbearable some days. he’ll be explaining the method of a new equation, writing something out neatly, and his brain just betrays him, flashes of you laughing late at night, the way you curl into him, the softness of you in his hands, your beautiful bare face, and those mesmerizing eyes of yours. and he has to pause for half a second, clearing his throat, forcing himself back into the equation.

secretprofessorboyfriend!rafe who grips his marker a little tighter when that happens, knuckles nearly going white. not enough for anyone else to notice, but just enough to bring him back to reality. “as i was saying,” he continues, his voice steady again, even if his thoughts are anything but.

secretprofessorboyfriend!rafe who gets weirdly territorial over your time, in a “you need rest” kind of way. like if you mention pulling an all nighter, he’ll just look at you before saying, “no, you’re not.” and suddenly your schedule is reorganized, your deadlines broken into manageable pieces, and he’s sitting there with you making sure you actually sleep.

secretprofessorboyfriend!rafe who doesn’t know how to take a compliment. he can compliment your beauty, or how well you do on work, but when you listen to him to explain a concept to you, and say “wow you’re truly so intelligent” he’ll shut down and say “you don’t need to-” but will stop himself mid way to correct himself, because he knows you’re telling the truth, not just trying to falter him. “thank you sweetheart” he’ll say with his shy smile.

secretprofessorboyfriend!rafe who absolutely loves when you wear his glasses. like, it genuinely does something to him. he’ll be speaking, glance up, and just stop for. blinking like he needs to reset. “those suit you very well,” he says quietly, like it’s an understatement, but the way he’s looking at you says everything else.

secretprofessorboyfriend!rafe who thinks your beauty is the kind people try and fail to describe properly. he won’t say it like that out loud, but it’s in the way he studies your face sometimes, like he’s trying to understand how something can be that soft and that sharp all at once. and he’ll say things like, “shakespeare would’ve written play after play just based off your beauty.”

secretprofessorboyfriend!rafe who is completely obsessed with your mind. like, of course you, but how you think? that’s what gets him every time. he’ll ask you questions just to see how you approach them, leaning back slightly, watching you work through it, and his professor side just explodes at how articulate you are. secretprofessorboyfriend!rafe who loves to call you “angel”, it’ll slip out when you’re tired, or frustrated, or just being you. “easy, angel,” he’ll say quietly, brushing your hair back. because to him, you’re something gentle in a life that’s always structured and controlled. you soften him without trying. or “my pretty girl.” it’ll come out when he’s a little more undone than usual, paired with a quiet observation. “you think too much, pretty girl,” or “look at you,” under his breath. because he notices your beauty constantly, but this is one of the few times he actually lets himself say it.

secretprofessorboyfriend!rafe who doesn’t just give you answers, he leads you to them. “think about it this way,” he’ll say, tilting his head slightly, guiding you instead of correcting you. and when it clicks for you? that proud little “there it is” like he knew you’d get there all along.

secretprofessorboyfriend!rafe who will randomly test you on small things, not in a pressuring way, more like he enjoys the back and forth. “define that again,” he says one night, looking at you over his glasses, and you roll your eyes but answer anyway. and he just hums, satisfied.

secretprofessorboyfriend!rafe who carries that natural authority into everything. and it’s not controlling at all, more like the kind of presence that makes you want to follow his lead, because you trust it.

secretprofessorboyfriend!rafe who doesn’t even realize how attractive that is. the way he makes decisions, the way he takes care of things without making a show of it, the way he’s always just slightly ahead, already thinking about what you might need.

secretprofessorboyfriend!rafe who notices how you look at him sometimes, like you’re in awe, and it throws him off more than anything else ever could. because in his head, you’re the impressive one.

secretprofessorboyfriend!rafe who has a habit of of using his experience to cater in your favor, like proofreading your emails before you send them, hovering just behind you, one hand resting lightly on the back of your chair as he scans the screen. “change that phrasing,” he says, pointing slightly. “you’re underselling yourself.” and he won’t let you hit send until it sounds like you at your best.

secretprofessorboyfriend!rafe who turns into your handsome, older boyfriend when it’s just the two of you. his professor demeanor drops, becoming more loving and needy for you. reaching for your waist to wrap himself in you. but his underlying strictness never fully disappears, and you love that. secretprofessorboyfriend!rafe who still, somehow, manages to make you feel like you’re the one with all the power, just by the way he looks at you when you’re not trying.

Do I deserve my name on a plaque on an office door at this fine university? Absolutely fucking not. But I paid for the building after all… American History—all first-years this semester. You can’t mess that shit up.

I relax into the wall a bit, accepting my fate, lifting my coffee to my lips, taking a sip. “Rafe.” I hear a familiar voice. A couple of heads turn toward me, leading me to a familiar face. I smile and chuckle as I shuffle toward the aisle, scooching through the crowd.

“Hey, man,” I greet him, shaking his hand before slipping my leather bag off my shoulders, taking a seat.

“Cameron,” he breathes, surprised to see me here, happy nonetheless.

“Zachary.”

“Guess they're hiring anyone these days,” he taunts, jabbing me in the side playfully, making me snort out a lazy laugh. I can’t lie. I’m happy to see him here. One friend is plenty. The guy is a fuckin’ nerd, but he’s a good person. “Pretty sure we both had class in this lecture hall,” he sighs blissfully, recalling a simpler time.

“Yeah, man. I think we did… How long have you been workin’ here for?” I ask between sips of coffee.

“Ten years.”

“Jesus, man,” I huff. “We've been outta school for that long, huh?”

“Nah, buddy,” he groans. “Longer. Started working here right after graduation. Been workin’ my way up the ladder ever since.”

“That’s great,” I nod, watching our Dean of Students strut across the hall's main floor. “You like it here?”

“Love it,” he smiles. “Why are you here?” Zach furrows his brows, asking the question he wanted to ask from the beginning. It’s no secret I got money to spare. There’s gotta be some reason I’m here. I’m sure he’s curious.

“I got bored. Thought I’d go back to school—just did it casually. So here I am.”

“Here you are,” he echos through a weak laugh. “I mean, you own the place at this point, huh?” Zach wiggles his eyebrows teasingly.

“Almost,” I chuckle, fully aware that the Cameron Library and The Cameron School of Business makes this current faculty position a little absurd.

“Glad to have you here. Truly,” he adds earnestly.

“Good to be here, man,” I smile as I relax into my seat a little more, getting ready for a day of gettin’ talked at, I’m sure. Zach adjusts in his seat, pulling his phone out of his slacks, thumbing over his messages.

Sis: Did you want anything to eat?

Zach: Nah. I’m fine. Coffee please.

Sis: Sounds good. Black coffee, two creams, two sugars?

Zach: Please and thank you.

“So…” I ask, my curiosity piqued. “Do you have any family here? You married or what—” I question, trying to be as calm as possible.

“Nah… Not really the marriage type. Family, yeah, my sister goes here now.”

”No shit?” I ask, trying not to be too interested, but I can’t help but catch his lock screen. Him and the absolutely stunning woman posed next to him in front of the Golden Pavilion in Kyoto. They weren’t cuddled up with each other, just smiling… That smile.

I run my hands down my shirt, smoothing out any wrinkles, raking my fingers through my hair, pushing it back slightly. Please be her.

“She’s a Kappa Girl.”

“Not a Kappa Girl,” I taunt through an exaggerated groan. He scoffs and rolls his eyes away. If it was anything like it was back in the day that house in nothin’ short of a brothel.

“She isn’t like that, Cameron,” he drones. “She doesn’t even live at the house. She’s got good grades. Like good good. Fuckin’ great actually—above a 4.0. They recruited her. The Kappas took some heat after gettin’ in trouble a few too many times. They were gonna lose their charter, so they switched from a social sorority to one based in education. Fuckin’ nerds,” he adds, making me chuckle, dissing her just like I had dissed him just a few short minutes before.

“Runs in the family. Huh?”

“Fuck off,” he snickers. Zach hangs his head low, pitching the bridge of his nose as he lets out an exhausted sigh.

“You good?”

He nods and yawns, eyes set on the speaker up front. “These old bitches can go fuckin’ hard. We went to Lord Fletcher’s last night. Janice over there can drink you under the table—six advils today already. My sistes’s comin’ over with a coffee for me. Thank god. I’m hurtin’ over here,” he groans, shifting uncomfortably in his seat.

Zach’s eyes brighten as he looks toward the lecture steps. I feel my heart racing in my chest, my palms sweating, almost too nervous to look. I mean, that could have been his ex-girlfriend. But what if it’s the best-case scenario? What if it’s her? What if she’s you, princess? I turn my attention to the end of the aisle, watching that same girl shuffle along the line of people, clutching coffees, doing her best not to spill.

Fuck me.

My eyes travel up your body—your bare legs on full display, making my stomach fill with butterflies. You lean in, your sweet perfume amplified by the warmth of your flawless body from the late August heat. The second the coffee leaves your hand, I’m trying to get your attention on me. “I’m Rafe,” I smile, extending my hand toward you.

You juggle your books and your own coffee in your hands clumsily, extending a hand as well, making me instantly feel bad for putting you through the hassle, but the contact is worth it—soft and smooth, a firm grip on mine.

You bat your long lashes at me. I can’t tell if you’re just trying to get a better look in the dim light or if you like what you see, but my heart is racing regardless.

“It’s nice to meet you, Rafe,” you reply, talking directly to me… “See you at home,” you whisper to Zach, who gives you a little wave as he swipes through his phone again.

I smile when you look over your shoulder, the light pouring in from outside the lecture shining on you like a beacon. A fuckin’ angel on earth. My girl.

Hello, you.

It’s been sixty-seven days since we met—sixty-seven beautiful days of studying my favorite subject. You’re lovely, sweetheart. Everything about you is.

Even the little things you do out of habit. The way you tuck your hair behind your ear when you’re stressed, lips pursed, eyes wide. I know every look, every smile, taking each beautiful change of your face into memory. I can read you like a book.

I wanted it to be natural. How blatantly obvious would it be if I rushed into rekindling a friendship with your brother just to rush into a relationship with you? I had to ease in. Infiltrate the family—make myself a staple in your home so I could learn more about you.

There’s no one else better suited for you than me, baby. There is no one that will anticipate your needs like I can. Take care of you like I will. I’m going to make my move… I just need a little more time. I don’t want to lose the part of you that I get to see when you don’t know I’m watching.

I tilt back, relaxing into the doorframe of Zach’s office as I wait for you to stop by with his lunch. You’re so sweet. I know you’re cuttin’ it close with you’re next class. Fuck, my girl’s thoughtful. I smile to myself, lowering my head to not bring too much attention to myself.

“Who’s got you smilin’ like that, buddy?”

Shit. I look down at the phone, thumbing out of your Instagram, moving to Tinder. “Uh, I just matched with that bartender at Lord Fletchers. I think,” I mumble, giving him a slight smile.

“Juliette?” He asks surprisedly. “Isn’t she datin’ the head football coach?”

My stomach sinks, caught in a simple, stupid lie. “Nah, not her—a different one. I don’t know,” I brush him off, furthering my disinterest by pretending to swipe through some more.

Oh, shit. Here you come. I lift my eyes, matching yours. Your smile doubles as I catch your attention. “Hi, Rafe,” you sing. My name rolling off your lips so sweetly. Oh my god.

“Hey there,” I respond warmly. Your hand snakes around my waist, squeezing me. “You ready for that test tomorrow?”

You suck your teeth and shake your head. “Not ready enough to go on a date tonight, I don’t think. But I haven’t gone out in so long… I think it would be good for me to give my brain a rest the night before, don’t you?” You ask as your stunning eyes soften on mine, looking up at me for approval as I try my best not to fall apart in front of you or, at the very least, lose my shit.

How did I miss this?

“I’m sure you’ll be fine,” I press the words past my lips. You smile and nod before setting the food down on the desk. “Well, I gotta run—”

”See you tonight?” I add hastily, trying to get more info about your plans just in case.

“We got that intramural basketball game tonight,” Zach reminds me, making my palms sweat just knowing that if the date is early enough, I won’t be able to tag along or intervene.

“Chett said 8 PM at Little Angie’s.”

“Chett? As in Chett Lee?” I ask in disbelief as you mention the star quarterback. A good-looking dude, but he’s a fucking idiot and a Grade-A asshole.

You’re way too good for him. He doesn’t deserve you. Doesn’t even deserve to breathe your air—

“Yeah,” you answer through a smile, yanking me out of my thoughts.

“Well, I’m goin’ to Lexi’s house, so you and Chett will have the place to yourselves if you wanna come back after the bar,” Zach chimes in. My body trembles with rage, holding back every urge to crawl over the top of his desk and choke him out for even suggesting it.

“It’s our first date, I don’t know if that’ll happen but thank you,” you smiles giddily, making me physically ill. ”Shit,” you hiss, your attention pulled to your watch, clocking the time. “I’m gonna be late. I’ll see you tomorrow, Rafe, for the test,” you add breathlessly as you race away, fleeing for class.

“You proctoring tests now?” Zach laughs lightly, furrowing his brows.

“Ah, yeah,” I mumble, scratching at my 5 o’clock shadow, trying to find an excuse while also trying to gather my emotions as my whole world crumbles around me. “I—I owed Steve a favor for covering my class last week,” I stutter, confessing half the truth.

Sure, Steve subbed for me, but only so I could follow you on your trip to Georgia Tech for the football game to make sure you were safe… Zach should be thanking me, honestly.

Fuck off. The football game… I bite at the skin on my lip, putting together the pieces of why you had even gone in the first place. For him. For Chett… No, baby. Why?

“Cameron?” Zach chimes in. “You’re a little more dazed than usual, friend. You good?” He asks through a mouthful of food.

“Yeah, man. I’m good,” I nod. “It’s only a few hours.”

“What?” Zach asks confusedly.

“Proctoring…”

”Yeah…” He nods, his face laced with concern for me. I don’t even know how long I was drowning in my thoughts of her. I’m sure he’s wondering what’s going through my mind— why I’m acting weird. “You sure you're good? You seem upset.”

”Nah, man. I’m good. Just have some shit goin’ on I need to take care of,” I smile softly. “See you tonight?”

“Yeah… See you tonight, brother.”

“These are nice,” I breathe as I run my fingers along the pink petals with a smile, the spray of roses sitting pretty amongst the rest. “These, thanks.” I pull them out, handing them to the attendant, finishing into my back pocket for my wallet.

I head out the door, walking out onto the street—the busy college town teaming with students, pouring in and out of the bars.

Cigarette smoke wafts all around, competing with the aroma of the late-night food trucks. I look ahead, catching the Little Angie’s neon boot sign kicking ahead.

My excitement builds as I get closer and closer. You’re here. I look down at my phone, catching your location in the heart of the bar—my girl.

Shit. I look down at my other hand, tossing the wildflowers Chett had gotten you. He doesn’t know you at all… He doesn't know what you like. He doesn't deserve you. No one does. No one but me.

I push through the front door, heading back toward the bar as I match your pin to my surroundings.

My eyes pull taunt as I try to spot you through the thick crowd. I take a seat, ordering a beer before turning my attention back to the search.

I scan across the low-lit room, scouring for you. I can’t believe you’re still here after he stood you up. It’s almost like you knew I’d come and save you, princess.

There you are. Fuck, are you even real?

When I’m around you I swear I forget how to breathe. I find myself having to tear myself away—telling myself that staring too hard will do nothing but bring attention to the obvious, but I am so in love. How do I even look away?

You’re perfect.

You look sad. I know that’s my fault, pretty girl, but I promise I’ll make it all better.

You rest your cheek in your hand, slumped over in your seat, swirling your vodka cranberry defeatedly. Your beautiful eyes glisten.

I can’t tell if it’s just sheer beauty or if they might be glossed with tears. Your eyes shut heavily, shoulders relaxing a little more as you submit to your drunken state.

Oh, sweetheart. You need me.

“Can I close out my tab?” I ask the bartender, who gives me a little nod and a smile. I turn my attention back to you, watching as you sway ever so slightly with the music pouring from the speakers.

“Here you are, sir,” the bartender calls. I turn fast, scribbling a tip and a total.

My stomach falls as I pull my hand away, leaving behind a red thumbprint, remnants of my run-in with Chett lingering. Fuck.

I grab the slip of paper off the bar top, brushing my hand along my dark-wash jeans, thumbing through my wallet to grab some cash instead, tossing a tip on the counter in exchange.

I push off the bar, walking toward my girl, checking myself as best as I can in the darkness to make sure that I don’t miss anything else, catching a few specks of blood on my white shirt. Shit. I grab the zipper of my quilted jacket, hiding the mess.

What was I thinking? I was so excited about gettin’ to you that I didn’t even think about cleanin’ up.

I look down at my right hand: split knuckles, bloodied and bruised. I tug down my sleeve, just praying there isn’t any more I can’t see. “Y/n?”

Your eyes lift to mine, softening and welling with tears. “Rafey,” you slur out a whimper, eyes pinching shut. Your tears tumble down your cheeks as you try to get out your next few words to no avail.

”What’s goin’ on, princess?” I ask gently as I sit beside you, rubbing soft circles on your back.

“Ugh…” You humpfs. “I got stood up.” You hiccup before rolling your eyes in annoyance with Chett and your own emotions. “I can’t believe I’m even cryin’ over him, Rafey. I know he’s an asshole.” You cry, making my heart melt as you use that little nickname not once but twice.

“He is,” I laugh lightly, making you nod and sigh.

“Are you… M’shit. I’m sorry,” you mumble. “M’kinda drunk.”

“Hey. Hey. It’s alright,” I drawl.

“Are you meeting a date?” You ask, and I swear I can see a new sort of sadness in your eyes at the idea of it. I follow your gaze, eyeing the arrangement of roses in my hand.

“Oh, me?” I stall. “Uh… No. I-uh… I came in here after our game. I saw you hangin’ out here for a while. Kinda put two-and-two together. N’when I went outside to have a cig, I bought them off some guy on the street.”

I look back to you, my whole story all for not as you practically fall asleep at the table, your beautiful face propped up and smushed in your hand.

“Bought them for you, honey,” I sigh blissfully as I use a pet name I've always wanted to use knowing tomorrow it wouldn't matter. You wouldn't remember.

“Thank you, Rafey,” you whisper. Three times… “So—So… So good to me.”

“Let’s get you outta here, huh?” I ask as I reach into my wallet, pulling out a hundred, tossing it on the table. You close your eyes and nod your heavy head.

“Thank you.”

“Anything for you,” I breathe as I scoop my hand around your waist, lifting you to your feet.

You melt into me, resting your head on my chest, snuggling in. I can’t help but lean down, pressing a kiss on your hair. I breathe you in, relishing this simple moment with you.

“I love you, princess…” You look up at me, smiling sweetly. I hold my breath, even if you heard me say that there’s no way—you’re too drunk… but still.

“Can we get pizza?” You ask, making me laugh.

“Anything you want you get, sweetheart.”

I know there’s nothing more to worry about, but I can’t help but get a little jealous knowing you dressed this way for Chett.

You sway to the music on your record player, drunkenly singing along to the track between bites of pizza.

You’re happier than when you were at the bar—your sadness before I came is long gone. You flash me a smile, setting my heart ablaze, pointing at me playfully as you circle your hips to the beat, dropping it to the floor, showing me the perfect glimpse of your plump ass.

Fuck me. I bear with the pain, not wanting to make it blatantly obvious that my cock is strained in my pants.

“Help me?” You pout as you walk to me, lifting your hands in the air.

”With what…” My voice trails away as you step even closer. Your tits line up with my eyes from my seated position on the foot of your bed. My hands instinctively reach up, resting on your hips, testing the waters.

“Pajamas.”

“Oh—Oh. Of course,” I stammer as I lift your shift dress over your head.

I hold back a moan, my head and mind racing out of control as I stand this close to you, the girl of my dreams in nothing but your bra and panties. And not just any panties, the panties I had taken from you last week. The panties I had wrapped around my cock that I had my cum all over more times than I could count.

Of course, I washed them and put them back, but what luck. It’s fate. Just stay calm.

You lets out a sleepy little yawn, stretching slightly, your back arching. Your cleavage pops a little more against the dainty lace. My eyes strain, refusing to blink. I run my hand down your side, watching as goosebumps spread across your bare skin at my touch. Your nipples peak, teasing me under the barely-there fabric.

Help her, Rafe. I swallow hard, focusing on the task at hand, fighting back everything that I want to do.

You move a little closer, slotting yourself between my thighs. I know it will be over if I look up and match your eyes. You’ll be too embarrassed in the morning if I do anything more—if I do what I need.

I can feel your eyes on me. Your hand moves higher and higher, your soft touch cupping my chin, guiding my eyes to yours.

Holy shit. You smile down at me, your eyes hazed with lust and liquor. You run your thumb along my bottom lip, biting your own. I’m dreaming. I have to be. “Thank you,” you smile, your voice coming out so crisp and clear.

This is no dream… Just heaven on earth. Deep breaths. Help her get into her pajamas and let her sleep it off.

Tomorrow. If she genuinely wants me now, she’ll want me tomorrow. She needs me. Her trust is in me. I can’t mess this up. I need her too badly.

“Of course, sweetheart,” I whisper, allowing myself to drink you in a little more. I mean, I don’t want you to think I am not thoroughly enjoying this… This is the best moment of my life. Of course, after meeting her, that is.

I reach over on the bed, grabbing your satin pajama top. You take a little breath, going to say something, holding back, settling on a smile instead.

I bet you were gonna ask for something from me. Probably wanting me to take off that pretty little bra of yours instead of giving her clothes to put on. I want to be your knight in shining armor tonight. I want to protect you—I want to keep you safe.

Tomorrow night, princess. I promise.

I’m addicted. I’m down bad. I’m in way, way too deep, but I can’t stop. I’ll never stop. You have no clue what you do to me. You have no idea how much time I have invested in you—in us. I have never been more fulfilled, princess. This is my destiny. You are mine. You just don’t know it yet…

You smile at me sheepishly, tucking some hair behind your ear before putting pen to paper, checking in for your test. You're hungover. I can tell—dark circles painted under your beautiful eyes, and the usual soft glow of your skin dimmed.

You’re smart… You’ll have no problem taking this test, and if you do, it’s nothing I can’t fix for you.

You walk over to a locker, stripping off your purse and jacket, checking your phone before stuffing it inside as well. Holy shit… You shut the door, forgoing the lock altogether.

Fuck, you’re too good to me, sweetheart. I’m sure you want me to take a peek. Don’t you? A smirk tugs on my lips, arms crossing over my chest as I stare you down.

You stride toward me, shoulders slumped. I’m sure you’re gonna apologize. I smile at you, wordlessly telling you I know what you’ll will say. You laugh weakly, letting out a deep, self-deprecating sigh.

“Sorry about last night, Rafe—thank you,” you smile sweetly, your voice just above a hush, not wanting anyone else to hear.

“You’re alright. Glad I could get you home. Are you feelin’ okay?” I ask as I step a little closer.

“M’a little hungover,” you sigh. “I—I never get like that, I swear—”

“I know you don’t,” I stop you. Your brows rumple, my tone a little more knowing than you expected. “Your brother mentioned you don’t really drink like that,” I correct myself, and you smile.

“Well, I’ll see you later, Rafe. Thank you.” You reach out, giving my bicep a squeeze that has my eyes darting to your hand on me. Oh fuck.

You're walking toward the testing room before I can look up at you again. The door fans shut behind you, leaving me alone with the equivalent of your fuckin’ diary. Everything I could want to know about you that I don’t know yet is on here.

Please be unlocked.

“Shit,” I hiss, slamming my fist against the locker, eyes darting around fast as the sharp sting of regret pierces through me at my outburst.

Pull it together, Cameron. I close my eyes, doing my best to compose myself as I tuck your phone at my side, walking back toward the desk.

I look at you through the privacy glass. My girl’s none the wiser—I smile as you answer the next question.

The password’s your birthday. Keep it simple. That's gotta be it. It’s not like she's got shit to hide.

I type in the six-digit code, my tension melting away, shoulders relaxing as I crack the code without any effort at all.

Gotta hit the big four: messages, search history, pictures, Instagram. Don't get too greedy.

I feel my cock twitch at the thought of this being in your hand. My mind instantly sails away to the shit you look at that you’d probably delete your search history for.

Hopefully, I caught you on an off day. Focus. Focus. Focus. I look over my shoulder as you breeze past the next question.

Messages, first.

Nothing crazy. A few to your friends, your brother, and a lab partner. My blood turns cold as I see Chett’s name. I click into your messages, teeth grinding, fist clenching as I read through the exchange.

Chett: you free tonight?

Y/n: I have a huge test tomorrow I'm sorry! Friday?

Chett: yeah we can do something on Friday too

Chett: cmon pretty. I owe you a beer

Y/n: just a beer? 😉

Chett: fuck… that's a yes?? Lets go to dinner then I owe you so so much

Y/n: I can't be out late tho

Chett: I know. I got you. I'm lucky ok. I know how you are.

Y/n: what does that mean?? 😂

Chett: your a good girl

Chett: i’ll meet you a little angies at 8. I've got workouts late ok??

Y/n: okay 💕

Chett: you better not stand me up

Y/n: never ☺️

Chett: on my way

Y/n: I'm at the bar

Y/n: found a table. We still on for 8?

Y/n: ???

Y/n: are you okay?

Y/n: just ran into your buddies. They said you ran into Kenzie on the street. Just fuck off alright? Why would you ask me out if you two were still a thing?

Y/n: I knew you were an asshole

Okay. Okay. Shit. My hands tremble as I read and reread your words. Just a clusterfuck of feelings seeing you this excited, this angry—this upset over that asshole. He ran into Kenzie?

I'm sure they caught up. I'm sure he had second thoughts about your date. About you? How could someone have second thoughts about you? I knew I did you a favor.

I click into the search history. Cleared. God damnit. That leaves two more pieces to the puzzle. Instagram and pictures. I pull up your socials, thumbing to the shit only I get to see. The DMs are the same as your texts— nothing crazy.

Instagram search bar… I click into it, seeing your recent searches. One for Chett… You motherfucker. Haunting me still, you goddamn dick—Oh…

Search: Rafe Cameron

I blink a few times, pinching my eyes closed before fluttering them open as I see MY name on YOUR screen. “No fucking way,” my voice comes out needy and hoarse, cracking with all the want I feel for you. I gasp for a breath, filling my lungs with needed air. How is this happening? I rub my hand across my mouth, snuffing out my smile. Jesus Christ. Best day of my fuckin’ life.

I look over my shoulder, praying I have enough time to browse your hidden folder in your camera roll.

Five questions left.

I open the hidden folder, my hand instantly gripping the edge of the desk, my rock-hard cock finally giving way as I cum in my slacks at the sight of you in lingerie—saved and hidden on your phone.

My heart pounds in my ears and chest as I thumb through the rest, watching in horror as a wet, warm spot forms on my khakis.

Fuck. There’s five more pictures… My goddess. My fuckin’ princess… Look at you, baby. Two more questions left.

Put the fuckin’ phone back, Rafe. The phone trembles as I unhide all five, moving quickly to your messages before typing in my number, sending them to myself, deleting everything fast. I swear I could’ve cum again just feeling my phone vibrate in my pocket, knowing what I have saved for myself.

I swipe everything closed as I walk back to the locker bay, stuffing the phone inside your purse, slamming the door shut before the testing door swings open.

I turn my body away, walking toward the exit, checking on a knock that never happened; turning my body in the opposite direction before matching your eyes.

“So, how did it go?” I smile, positioning myself so you can’t see the absolute mess you caused.

“Good, actually,” you sighs, relief laced in your tone and demeanor as you pop open your locker. I step behind the desk, leaning into the counter just enough to ensure that my little secret is safe.

Good girl.

I swear I can’t go to bed without my nightly ritual. I stand outside your window, hidden just out of view, cloaked in the darkness of the hedges gathered around the perimeter of your apartment.

Some nights I have the pleasure of being in your space—other nights, I settle for the next best thing, but honestly, even here is paradise.

Some nights, you stay up late, the apples of your cheeks glowing in the dim of your room as you browse your phone—other nights, you moves through your apartment chatting on the phone with your friends, smiling and laughing, every fiber of my being just wishing it was me on the other line.

But on special nights—nights like this, your hand slips into your night stand pulling out your favorite vibrator, playing with your pussy like I could only dream of doing.

I never get to see what goes on underneath the covers or hear the sweet noises you make, but I get to see the pleasure painted all over your face.

I can’t help but pull my cock out of my pants, stroke my dick while you work on yourself.

Are you thinking about me? I always dreamed you were, but after seeing your search history, it’s not out of the realm of possibility.

What if you're saying my name? My beautiful girl.

“Fuck, baby,” I pant as you grab the covers, throwing them off your body, my precum mixing with my sweaty palm as I take in the sight before me.

I watch as the silicon cock glistens with your slick, making me spit on my dick to mirror the sight. My fist works over my length, whimpering and moaning your name as I keep your pace. My thigh muscles tremble as I fixate on your every movement.

I know I should walk away, but there’s no force on this earth strong enough to pull me away from this. I bite my lip as you throw your head back into your pillow, back arching off the mattress.

And just like that, I fall deeper and deeper into my mind. “Where are we fuckin’ tonight, princess?” I mumble, envisioning us in the same room. “My office? Fuck, you’re bad, sweetheart? You sure? Sure you can’t wait until we get home? God damn, angel. You need it that bad? Need daddy’s dick right here, right now?” I moan as my muscles clench tight.

I swear I draw blood, pinching my bottom lip between my teeth as you drag your hand up, pulling your shirt with it, exposing your perfect breasts. You squeeze and twist your nipple, circling softly just like I would.

“My lips will be on you, I swear to Christ,” I moan, picturing my parted lips sucking down on your tits—catching your breasts in my mouth as they bounce.

“Stop hidin’, honey,” I grunt as your legs draw closer, and I swear you heard me because your thighs widen on the mattress, splaying out for me and only me.

What I wouldn't pay to bury myself in your cunt, princess. I’ve sucked on your panties more times than I can count—memorized your taste. I need the real thing.

I wanna feel the warmth of your body against me, tongue pumping in and out of that tight little hole of yours.

Your mouth falls open, chest heaving, muffled cries heard through the glass. Just a whisper, but my ears have never been more blessed.

I look down at my cock for a split second, just enough time to run some spit down on my throbbing head, making me hiss out a breath. I make a tight fist, imagining myself sinking into your slick pussy as you lay on a pile of my class papers, a little pleated skirt riding up around your waist, your wet cunt just begging for me to fill it, sucking me in.

“Such a sloppy pussy. Fuck… Perfect for me,” I mutter, returning my eyes to you, watching as your arousal leaks out of your slit as you continue to stroke, dirtying the sheets below.

I run my hand across my sweaty forehead, slicking back my bangs in the process, switching my hold to my balls to play with them, trying desperately to cum with you for your second time. “Slow down, baby… Shittt. Pussy’s too good. You wanna come with daddy, don't you? Yeah you do. Atta baby.”

Another muffled moan bleeds through the glass. I need to hear you. Fuck, I need to know what you sound like.

I release my cock with a panting gasp, fumbling for the glass, resting my clammy palms against it as I hold my breath, cracking it ever so slightly.

There we go. I move even closer, resting a hand on the brick wall, eyes rolling back in my skull as I wrap my fingers around my thick dick again.

“Rafe…” She pants, and my eyes double, stomach falling, breath fleeing my chest, drowning in my own pleasure as my name leaves your lips.

Say it again. Fucking say it, baby. Tears of joy fill my eyes as warmth spreads from my head to my toes.

I listen closely, catching the sounds of your sopping core squelching through your room, cries and sighs of pleasure coming back to back as I bite my shirt, holding back my own. “Just like that, Rafey. Fuckkk, daddy. I’m cumming,” you cry in a throaty, fucked-out voice that has me cumming harder than I ever have in my life, ropes, and ropes of cum painting the brick wall of your apartment building as I watch your finish.

I look down in exhaustion as my cum rolls down the wall, before closing my eyes in utter bliss, just imagining it leaking out of your cunt. My goddamn pussy.

“Tomorrow—” I pant as I lift my trembling hand, pointing my cum-coated finger against the glass with a smug smile that I wish you could see. “M’taking you out and then we’re comin’ back here and I’m going to make every one of your fantasies come true, honey. M’gonna be all you need. I swear,” I coo.

I watch you as you lay there, hands trailing your beautiful body, calming yourself down with touch.

You're lonely, baby. You don't need to be… Let me take care of you. You let out a sleepy yawn, stretching out on the mattress.

“Fuck,” I grumble, post-nut clarity setting in as I realize what the fuck I just did, regretting none of it, just hoping that someone didn’t see me.

The street is empty. Just perfect. I grab my boxers, pulling them up as you tuck your toy into your nightstand, fastening my pants as you snuggle into your sheets.

No.

Your eyes lock with mine, and with that, time stands still. My heart hammers in my chest as your expression changes from confusion to terror.

You let out a blood-curdling scream as I try to pull myself away, but I’m frozen with fear.

Run. Fuck! You fumble for your phone as I step away from the window, my eyes never leaving you until I’m falling back on the curb, struggling to my feet, sprinting as fast as my feet will take me.

I’ve ruined everything. What the hell have I done? My heart shatters into a million pieces as I run down the block, charging toward my car as I fight my keys out of my pocket.

Tears and snot wet my face, my whole body sheened with sweat, shivering with adrenaline. Not only am I going to lose her, but I’m gonna lose everything else. My job. My reputation. Everything. Fucking everything.

I slam my finger against the keyless start—engine roaring as I peel out onto the street, trying to put distance between me and you.

What the hell can I say to make this better? No one will understand. I can’t fucking help it. I can’t help who I am. I can’t help that I love you. That I want to keep you safe. Is that a crime? I’m obsessed with you. It’s like—I think about you all the time. Every second of my fucking life. But isn’t that what love should be like?

I let out a shaky breath, catching my reflection in the rearview mirror, my cheeks soaked with tears; eyes glassy with emotion.

If I can’t have you, I don’t want to live. I don’t… I—I can’t.

My foot slams on the gas, barreling down the freeway toward the bridge, watching as the needle on the speedometer climbs higher and higher as cars swerve and dart out of my path.

What is the point if I can’t have you?

I’m nothing without you.

My knuckles ghost white, as I blink the tears out of my eyes, sobbing like a child as the speedometer blasts past 100.

I feel it in my heaving chest, plaguing me like a virus, the only warmth in my heart gone now that I’ve lost you. Just fucking empty—goddamn hollow.

The only thing I’ve ever truly wanted is gone. You were the best thing that has ever been mine and I didn’t even get to tell you… I lift my hand to wipe away the tears as the road blurs before me.

Days of watching you, not one moment forgotten. I was almost a part of your world. Why did I wait so long? Why did I wait until it was too late? You were saying my name? You wanted me just as bad as I wanted you…

The world around me gets a little brighter as I pull onto the bridge, illuminated with streetlamps, before the world dives off into the dark waters below.

What if she feels guilt? What if she blames herself? What if this ruins hers too?

I thread through the gap of cars, vehicles slamming on their breaks around me, unable to swerve on the bridge like they were on the road before making every move sharper—more erratic—the line thinning, between life and death.

Maybe she’ll forgive me after I’m dead…

RING. RING. RING.

I look down at my phone, seeing your brother's name light up the screen. “Hello?” I choke the word out, biting my lips to hold back my sniffles and sobs as I speed closer and closer to the edge, waiting for him to blow out my speakers with ‘ASSHOLE. PERV. STALKER. PSYCHOPATH-’

“Hey, Rafe. You good, man?” He asks worriedly, his gentle voice pulling me out of the pit. My foot pulls off the glass as I’m hit with a sliver of hope, before slamming on the breaks. My tires screech as my car skids across the bridge, stomach falling as I get so close to the edge that the grille of my Cadillac kisses the guardrail, nothing but blackness and open water before me.

“M’Yeah. Yeah. I’m good.”

You dive into my arms, hands wrapped tightly around my waist as you bury your head in my chest. Your warm, wet tears soak through my shirt, blessing my skin as I hold you close. “Thank you so much for coming, Rafe,” you sniffle.

“Of course,” I whisper as you tremble in my arms like a leaf. “Did you get a good look at him?”

You shake your head, letting out a frail little sigh. “No…”

“Go inside. Aight? You’ve been through enough. Let me check it out. I’ll be in in a second. Okay?” You nod, looking up at me with doe-eyes and a trembling lip. I cup your tear stained cheek in my hand, brushing your skin nice and soft. You tilt into me, needing me closer. “I’m sorry you went through this… But, it’s just some creep. I’m not gonna leave you tonight. I swear.”

“Thank you,” you whimper.

“‘Course, sweetheart.”

“Now, you, get inside and try to relax, huh? It’ll only take me a second.”

You nod and step inside, holding my hand until the last moment.

I walk down the stairs, strolling through the landscaping to your window. I suck my teeth, looking down at the stained brick before lifting my hand—running my thumb along my tongue, scrubbing the little cum mark I left on your window with my finger.

“All clear,” I whisper, smiling to myself as my night takes a turn for the better.

I walk up your steps, stepping into the apartment as you pour a glass of wine for you and I. “Thank you, Rafe. I’m so glad you’re here,” you smile, your voice weak as you walk toward me in your satin pajamas, passing me a glass.

“Call me anytime you need me. Okay?” I smile as I reach my hand out for you. You tangle your fingers in mine, moving a little closer, rising on your tippy toes, pressing a soft kiss on my cheek.

The two of us walk over to the couch, taking a seat. You snuggle into my chest just like you did at the bar. Your body relaxes in mine.

The adrenaline and excitement of the night wears off fast, and it’s not long before your eyes start to beat closed. I don’t think I can sleep. I don’t want to. Truthfully, I could stay this way forever with you.

Your soft sounds fill my ears as I focus on your breathing and the shape of your body in mine. I couldn’t dream of a more perfect moment with you, sweetheart. My girl. Mine. A satisfied smile plays on my lips as I reach over, flicking on the evening news.

“Hello, my name is Belle Lee, reporting live from the downtown district. An investigation is underway after a University student was found dead with multiple gunshot wounds. College officials have identified the victim as 22-year-old Chett Lee from Tampa Bay, Florida. This is an active investigation. Any tips or other information can be directed to the local authorities. Currently, there are no known suspects in this gruesome murder.”

A smirk pulls on my lips as I flick off the TV, darkness falling all around us. I lift you into my arms, holding you close, walking you to your room before setting you down on the mattress.

I rub my thumb across your pillowy lips, not wanting to push it too far by kissing you goodnight. My belly stirs as I think about the cum I had just cleaned off the glass, any reminents now hanging on your perfect mouth.

I’ll just have to settle for that tonight.

I stroke your hair gently, brushing it off your beautiful face. Just leave, Rafe… Just—I succumb to my urges, kissing your forehead instead, lingering as long as I possibly can before pulling away. Your eyes match mine, staring up at me, whimpering a soft. “Stay.”

Caught the teacher giving his eyes to a student. 

Thought, "He pretty cute" and she bit her lip back to him.

As you were writing your essay, you looked up to catch your teacher, Professor Cameron looking at you from his desk. He was eyeing you and he didn't even care that you knew it. Quite frankly, he wanted you to know that he was.

He was gorgeous. His jawline was perfect, he has beautiful eyes, his body was like a chiseled Greek god. He was the total package. I mean who wouldn't want a man who was that handsome, right? As he studied you, you bit your lip also studying him, earning a smirk from him.

Chewing on her nails and her pens while she's dreaming of him and he's fucking in sin. 

Anytime he was up in front of the class you couldn't help but let your fantasies about him run wild. You wondered how big he was, how good he was in bed, what type of kinks he had, how soft his lips were.

You gently bit the end of your pen as he was speaking in front of the class. You couldn't even focus on what he was saying. All you could think about was him and his perfect body. His gaze shifted over to you.

He smirked when he saw the way you were daydreaming and biting your pen while watching him teach. He loved the affect he had on you. 

She said, "It's for all the right reasons baby, don't care 'bout grades, just call me your lady."

You squealed and giggled when Rafe hoisted you up onto his desk. You wrapped your legs around his waist and pulled him closer to you. The two of you made out passionately until he pulled away.

"So, what do you want out of this, huh? Better grades?" He asked with a smirk as he began to kiss your neck.

"I don't give a fuck about marks, I just want to be yours." You said breathlessly. "Make me yours Rafe." You said. 

If I pass this quiz, will you give me your babies?

Don't call me crazy.

"This is your reward for doing so good on that test." Rafe said with a smirk as he plowed into you causing you to moan out and making your eyes roll. You have never felt so full in your life. It felt like he was splitting you in half.

You moaned out loudly as Rafe fucked you from behind. He loved to see your bent over his desk for him. Your eyes rolled as you felt your orgasm approaching. He continued to slam into you, going faster and harder with every thrust.

"Fuck baby, I'm gonna cum." He groaned out.

"Cum inside of me, please! Please fucking fill me up!" You moaned out.

"Yeah? You want me to fill your pretty little pussy up? Make you all swelled up with my kid?" He asked with a smirk before groaning out.

"Fuck yes! Please!" You moaned out.

"Fuck, your a crazy bitch." He said with a smirk.

You love me but you won't come save me.

You got a wife and kids, you see them daily.

Don't know why you even need me. 

You were out at the store and you smiled when you saw Rafe in there too. He was with another woman and some children. You still decided to go over there and see him. He glanced over to you but, then walked the opposite way, ignoring you. 

You stood there and didn't know if you should just leave it alone or go after him. You decided to go after him. When you finally caught up to him, you smiled at him.

"Hey, Mr. Cameron." You said with a smile and went to hug him but, instead he just stuck his hand out for a hand shake. You looked at him confused but shook his hand anyways. 

"Who is this?" The woman asked.

"Oh, this is just a student I teach." He said with a nod. A student? Didn't you mean more to him than that? Didn't he love you?

a/n: I hope y'all liked this fic!

professor!rafe who gets a little dorky when he’s excited about a concept, talking a bit faster, hands moving slightly as he explains, like he forgets he’s supposed to be “professional” for a second.

professor!rafe who makes random comments like “apple is honestly a disgrace to computer science” while opening his lenovo laptop, and the entire class laughs while he just looks up like “what? you all know i’m right.”

professor!rafe who isn’t really on social media. like at all, aside from occasionally updating his linkedin for his phd progress, but will casually mention going to a ballet or a play over the weekend like it’s the most normal thing ever.

professor!rafe who always has his hair slicked back just enough, glasses sitting low on his nose when he’s reading something closely, pushing them back up absentmindedly with his knuckle.

professor!rafe who somehow always has a faint smudge of marker or chalk near his jaw or chin, or even on this shirts from getting too close to the board, completely unaware of it.

professor!rafe who wears those stupidly cute short sleeve button downs, sometimes with tiny embroidered equations on the pocket, paired with slacks like he’s not accidentally distracting you.

professor!rafe who carries that same brown leather briefcase everywhere, filled with neatly organized notes, his laptop, and printed lesson plans, like his entire life depends on it. 

professor!rafe who says your name so naturally when calling on you, “ms. yln, what did you get for this?” and it shouldn’t make you feel anything, but you name on his lips, just does.

professor!rafe who notices effort more than anything, giving small nods of approval when you answer correctly, or saying, “that’s a really good way to think about it,” and you’re thinking about that for the rest of the day.

professor!rafe who once leaned slightly closer to your desk to check your work and said, “you’re picking this up really quickly,” and you had to actively focus on not forgetting how to think.

professor!rafe who compliments you in the most innocent, and appropriate ways possible. like “your perfume smells really nice today. i think my sister wears the same one” and you’re smiling while telling yourself, ‘that’s not what i wanted but i’ll take it’.

professor!rafe who started off, completely unaware of the effect he has, just treating you like a dedicated student, while you’re sitting in the front row every day, a little more put together than necessary, just waiting for him to notice it.

professor!rafe who takes his role super seriously. always keeping things respectful and professional, never letting anything blur. but there’s this warmth in the way he speaks to you that feels a little different. 

professor!rafe who looks at you like he’s trying to understand how you think, not just what you know, and somehow that feels more intimate than anything else. because he’s picking apart your brain where your ex’s want your body first. 

professor!rafe who has no idea you’ve checked his left hand more than once, just in case.

professor!rafe who leaves you wondering what it would actually take for him to look at you as anything more than his student ms. y/l/n, even just for only a second. 

professor!rafe who writes out full solutions before class in his notebook, but still works through them again on the board just in case someone needs to see the process twice, muttering softly to himself like “okay, let’s not skip steps here”

professor!rafe who always brings an extra pen or pencil and, without making it a big deal, and will slide it onto your desk if he notices you forgot one. “you can keep it,” like it was already accounted for. professor!rafe who gets slightly thrown off when the class laughs at something he didn’t mean to be funny, pausing mid sentence like “well that wasn’t intended as humor,” but there’s a small smile tugging at his lips anyway.

professor!rafe who has a habit of tapping the board lightly with his marker when he’s thinking, staring at the equation for a second before going, “okay, there’s a cleaner way to approach this,” and rewriting it completely.

professor!rafe who grades assignments with actual feedback instead of just numbers. putting small notes in the margins like “good approach here” or “i see what you were going for, come see me and we’ll walk through it together.”

professor!rafe who stays a few minutes after class every single time, even when no one asks questions, just in case someone wants to but feels awkward speaking up in front of everyone.

professor!rafe who lowkey gets excited when someone challenges his explanation, not defensive at all, just like, “wait, okay, that’s a good point,” and will literally work through it with them.

professor!rafe who drinks a black coffee he definitely forgot about halfway through class, taking a sip, pausing, then quietly going, “that’s definitely been sitting there for a while,” and setting it back down like nothing happened. 

professor!rafe who carries himself very well, but occasionally forgets the smallest things, like leaving the cap off his marker or misplacing his notes for two seconds before finding them exactly where he put them.

professor!rafe who pushes his sleeves up absentmindedly when he’s deep into explaining something, revealing his forearms without even realizing you’ve completely stopped paying attention to anything but his arms. 

professor!rafe who softens his tone without realizing it when speaking directly to you, like there’s a slight difference that only you would pick up on, but then doubt yourself because you want it to be different. 

professor!rafe who remembers your academic strengths specifically, “you’re usually really good with this type of problem, what part is throwing you off?” and it feels a little too personal in the best way. 

professor!rafe who once caught you already looking at him when he turned from the board, and paused for a second. just long enough to clock it, before continuing like nothing happened.

professor!rafe who organizes his entire lecture timeline down to the minute, but will completely abandon it if the class needs more time. “we’ll adjust, understanding this is more important than finishing everything.”

professor!rafe who quietly gets proud when the class starts improving, like you can see it in the way he nods more, or says “yeah, exactly.” 

professor!rafe who would be genuinely surprised if he ever found out you had a crush on him, because in his mind, he’s just doing his job. 

professor!rafe who then starts noticing you nearly at the end of the semester, gradually. in the way your gaze lingers a second too long when he’s explaining something, how you’re always already looking at him when he turns from the board. at first he tells himself it’s nothing, just attentiveness, but then it keeps happening. 

professor!rafe who realizes you stay behind after class more often than anyone else. not asking questions right away, just packing your bag a little slower, glancing up like you’re waiting for him to say something first. and it makes him pause sometimes, hands resting on the desk, debating whether to break the silence. 

professor!rafe who catches on that you come to office hours more than necessary. not in a concerning way, because you’re one of his best students, but your questions are weird? things you already understand, just worded differently. and he answers every time, but there’s a voice in the back of his mind like, ‘you don’t actually need help with this?’

professor!rafe who hates that he notices the smaller things now too. like the way you always come in put together, rather the consistency of it. your hair done, your outfits always nice, the faint scent of your perfume when he leans slightly closer to check your work. he doesn’t linger on it but he notices more than he should.

professor!rafe who has to actively redirect himself sometimes when he feels your eyes on him for too long. clearing his throat turning back to the board, having to reminding himself ‘this is not appropriate. she is your student.’ but it’s harder than he expected it to be.

professor!rafe who starts keeping interactions just a touch more structured once he becomes aware. nothing too obvious, just slightly more careful with his tone, or his distance because the last thing he wants is to blur a line he can’t fix later. but you noticed anyway. 

professor!rafe who still can’t deny the thought that slips in sometimes. ‘she’s beautiful.’ he’ll tell himself. and he shuts it down immediately every time, because it’s something he keeps not allowing himself to fall into. 

professor!rafe who sees you that same night outside campus wit the rain coming down hard. he’s halfway to his car when he spots you at the bus stop, with no umbrella, shoulders slightly hunched, trying to shield your bag from the water. and he stops. because he could keep walking. ‘it’s not appropriate. it’s late. she’ll be fine. someone else will-’ but then you move your bag closer to your chest, trying to keep it dry, and that’s it. decision made.

professor!rafe who mentally curses at himself for jogging back towards you. his umbrella tilted forward to block the rain, slightly out of breath when he reaches you. “hello, ms. y/l/n,” he says, voice a little louder over the hard noise of the rain. you look up, surprised. “oh! hi mr. cameron.” he thinks for a second, like he’s choosing his words carefully. “you can- um, you can call me rafe,” he says, almost hesitant. then quickly, “outside of class, i mean.” professor!rafe who gestures lightly toward the street, rain still pouring. “can i offer you a ride home?” he asks, and it sounds casual, but there’s a layer of concern under it he doesn’t bother hiding. you blink, trying to keep your voice normal, but you’re more excited than you show. “are you sure? i don’t want to be an inconvenience.” he shakes his head immediately. “no, not at all. i just- i couldn’t leave you out here like this,” he says, glancing at your bag. “especially with your work getting soaked.”

professor!rafe who walks you to his car with the umbrella angled more toward you than himself, shoulder slightly damp because he’s not paying attention to where the rain’s hitting him, more focused on keeping you from getting further wet. 

professor!rafe who doesn’t even react when you apologize for getting his seat wet, just shaking his head like it genuinely doesn’t matter. “it’s fine. it’ll dry,” he says simply, already starting the car.

professor!rafe who relaxes a little during the drive, conversation coming easier than it ever has in class. talking about small things, from coffee shops, places near the shore, his phd progress, and it feels so normal, to the point where he questions how comfortable it is. 

professor!rafe who notices the way you look at him when he’s focused on the road, and every time he glances over and catches you, you both look away with small, almost embarrassed smiles like you’ve been caught doing something you shouldn’t.

professor!rafe who involuntarily flexes his hand, like he's silently restraining himself.

professor!rafe who realizes, fuck, somewhere between conversation and quiet moments, that, this, this right here is exactly why he kept his distance before. because it would be so easy to let it become something more, and that’s exactly what makes it dangerous, but i don’t think he really cares anymore.

You can hear shuffling behind the door, watching as the knob turns. The door fans open; Rafe meets your gaze with a smile. “You… Wow. You look stunning," he hails, bearing the door as you pass through.

Fuck, he looks good. You feel yourself get a little frazzled as you take Rafe in. A slim black button-down and slacks, coupled with yet another pair of designer dress shoes. He smells delicious; that same cologne reapplied, already burned into your brain. ”You alright?“ He smiles, looking down at you.

”More than alright, Rafe. Just a little nervous.“

"About what?” He puffs, cocking his head to the side as he shuts the door. “Told ya I didn’t bite. Not unless you want me to,” Rafe chuckles warmly, turning you under his finger as he checks out your little dress again. “Goddamn. You’re flawless.”

“Thank you,” you whisper as your cheeks blush. Rafe keeps his hand in yours, guiding you deeper into his house, letting you take it all in.

“So, what are you so nervous about?" Rafe presses a little further, not wanting to let it go until he figures it out.

"I don’t know… I didn’t expect to be here. I’m just—I hope you aren’t having second thoughts.”

“Me?” He chuckles; twisting his face slightly as a crooked smile spreads on his lips. “Never. No second thoughts.”

“Okay… And, am I the only one-”

“Who’s gettin’ extra credit?” He snickers, reading your mind entirely. “You are the only one.”

“Ever?” You ask, your voice just above a hush, kicking yourself for asking it in the first place to a grown-ass man. Rafe turns you toward him, lacing his fingers in yours; his lips meet your forehead, kissing you softly.

“If you’re askin’ if I’ve ever had sex in an office, and I said 'no,’ I’d be lyin’,” he chuckles weakly. His palms come up, resting gently on your cheeks, guiding your watch to his. “But, if you're askin’ me if I’ve ever done that with a student… never. I’ve never done that.”

You give him a soft smile. “I’m so happy I’m here with you.”

“Me too,” he hums. “Now, let’s go relax. Yeah?” You nod as Rafe leans in, meeting your lips; kissing you deeply. Heat spreads across your body; the contact sets you ablaze, your entire being craving more of him.

Rafe walks you to his study, the mahogany countertop, adorned with six elegant bouquets. “Do you like flowers, princess?” He smiles; his hand resting on the small of your back.

“Of course,” you respond dreamily, bending in to smell each. “Six? Rafe, this-”

“I didn’t know what your favorite was…” He interjects, “Pink roses?" Rafe guesses, based solely on your reaction.

"Yeah, pink roses,” you giggle. “Thank you.”

He steers you to his leather couch, taking a seat. Before you can sink down, his hands are on you, guiding you to straddle his lap. You rest your hands lightly on his muscular chest as Rafe eyes you in his arms. His rough hands graze your back, landing on your bum; kneading your curves slowly.

“M'so glad you’re here,” he soughs, his lust-laced eyes locked on your lips. His crystal blues lift slowly to yours, sending chills down your spine. “You’re still nervous sweetheart? Aren’t you?”

You shake your head 'no’ as you lean in close, kissing him tenderly. His hands drift down your bare thighs, slipping under the hem of your dress. “I’m not… I swear," you whisper as you widen your thighs, pressing your pussy against his rock-hard bulge as you start to grind slowly. Your lips hover close, Rafe, matching your steady breathing. Tension builds as you wait for the other to break.

Rafe kisses you deeply, a passionate exchange, pushing your hips to ride him clothed. ”Need to taste you again. Fuck, you tasted so sweet,“ he mumbles between kisses. Rafe wraps you in his arms, lifting you off the couch. ”Just a little bit now. I need it. Don’t let me go any farther. Alright? Not yet.“

He rests you back down on the couch, pulling you where he wants you, your body desperate for his lips. Rafe drops himself down to his knees for you, taking control as he spreads your thighs, eyeing your glistening cunt with a hungry groan. ”No panties?“ He chuckles darkly, his dangerous gaze flickering to yours. Rafe brushes your folds, gathering your essence all over his fingers, before sucking them clean as your eyes roll back. ”M'so fuckin’ hard, princess. Can’t wait for you to suck my cock; make me cum again. Get that pretty little mouth of yours around my dick,“ he sighs. His strong arms loop around your thighs, pulling you closer than before, slumping you on the couch.

Rafe’s eyes stay locked on yours as his lips do the same to your clit, sucking and brushing his tongue from side to side. He moans against your pussy, as his fingers toy with your entrance, teasing your pearl with the chilled ridges of his gold ring. Your thighs tremble, tightening around him.

”C'mon, baby,“ he taunts, spreading you wider, sucking and finger-fucking you with a little more force. You sink your teeth into your bottom lip, holding back your cries of pleasure.

”Hey… Woah. Woah… Wait a minute, baby girl,“ he chides. ”Need to hear you. Alright?“

”Yes, daddy…“

”Well, shit…“ Rafe rasps as he grabs your legs, slinging them over his shoulders. ”I could get used to that.“

Everything increases; your heart rate, the pressure, the depth of his tongue in your soaked hole. ”You taste like heaven,“ he pants, bumping his nose against your clit, making your thighs quake. Rafe laps at your pussy, devouring you completely. He breathes deeply, taking in your scent; the vibration of his low moan felt against your heat.

Rafe takes your clit into his mouth, sucking harshly, making you cry out; heels digging into his black dress shirt as you buck your hips; voice echoing through the large house. ”There ya go… Atta girl.“

Your back arches, lips crying out for him. ”Fuck, Rafe. M'right there,“ you blubber. You reach for your satin straps, tugging down the top of your dress, letting your breasts spill free. Your hands instantly draw up to your tits, squeezing and pressing them together for him. Rafe bites down on your swollen clit; making you throw your head back. A choked sob spills from your lips.

Your hands drop down, weaving into his hair, giving it a rough tug. You grind your pussy on his face, feeling yourself teetering on the edge of ecstasy. ”Rafe, s-shit.“ Your eyes screw shut as you cum on his face, pleasure coursing through your system as your pussy clamps down around his thick fingers. Rafe works you through your orgasm, waiting until you’re fully unwound to release you with a panting breath.

”Need it—Fuck. I need your cock in my mouth,“ you gasp; eyes still shut as you do your best to recover.

”Baby, c'mon...“ He chuckles breathily as his lips find yours. You can taste yourself on his lips, making your mind fuzzy. ”I wanna share a drink. Take you on a tour… You were supposed to hold me back. You can wait. Right?“ You can hear the taunting in his tone, a devilish smirk playing on his kiss-bitten lips.

”Yes, daddy.“

Rafe cups your breasts in his hands. Pinching and rolling your pebbled blush between his fingers. He sucks down, trailing wet kisses before biting your sensitive skin, causing you to moan again. ”You’re mine,“ he whispers, nuzzling himself into your chest. ”I don’t want anyone else to have you but me. Understand?“

”What - Wait…“ You ask breathlessly. "I mean. Are you sure, Rafe? You barely know me. What if I didn’t come into your office today-”

“You would have… eventually. I just got lucky. I always get what I want, princess. I don’t wanna see you come into class with anyone else. Don’t wanna overhear some douchebag talkin’ about some absolutely stunning girl he took home from the bar. You’re mine. My pussy,” he breathes, making your breath hitch as he slaps your sensitive cunt, soothing it with his cupped palm. “My tits,” he mumbles, licking a line through your cleavage as he palms them together. “My lips,” he whispers as he kisses you again. “My fuckin’ girl. Mine.”

“M'yours, Rafe.”

“So, you’re a professor? Just a professor?" You ask through a flirty grin as you swirl your champagne.

"Yeah… Got bored. Decided to go to college, then grad school; got my doctorate for fun,” he rasps before taking a sip.

“So…” You look around, letting your silence speak for itself.

“I made some smart business decisions when I was young. Set myself up nicely.”

“Mob boss?” You quip, making him cock his brow and laugh.

“If I told you, princess. I’d have to kill you." Rafe plays along, shooting you a mischievous look. ”So, you’re pretty far from home. You plannin’ on going back for Spring Break, or are you gonna hang around here?“

You laugh nervously, wrinkling your brow, confused yet intrigued, charmed that he went out of his way to find out more about you. "How do you know where I’m from?”

He clears his throat, regretting his words slightly, rolling up the sleeves of his shirt on his thick forearms as he shifts anxiously. “Uh… Um," he puffs, draining some more liquor into his champagne flute. "Your student account,” he mumbles sheepishly.

“Professor Cameron!" You gasp, flirtingly, as you lean in a little closer.

"S'bad. Alright. I know. I know! I couldn’t help myself. I had to be proactive. Alright? High stakes. I gotta be real careful who I associate myself with.”

“And you can associate yourself with me, Rafe?”

“Yeah. I have a good intuition, princess. Questionin’ yours a little," he bullies. "That neighborhood you live in is shit, by the way. It’s not safe, baby.”

Your eyes double in surprise. The more he exposes, the more it should worry me, I know, but he’s pulling me deeper. He’s possessive, calculated, obsessed even. But, I fuckin’ love it. How much more does he know about me?

I need to know.

“You look handsome," you laud; just a slight bite of your lip as you lean into the armrest, hair tumbling to the side. You cross your legs, letting your little dress ride up your thigh.

His eyebrows raise, running his palm against his wide smile, attempting to play it cool as he stares at the valley of your thigh. ”Just tryin’ to keep up with you, baby. You look stunning. Did you wear that—“

”On New Year’s Eve…“ You finish his sentence as a smirk pulls on your lips, Rafe taking the bait effortlessly. ”Do you follow me on Instagram?“

"No… Just stalk you,” he admits, not an ounce of shame in his voice. He can see that you clearly enjoy his attention. “Like I said… Gotta be careful who I keep around. Not to mention, I had to keep an eye on who else was watchin’ you. I don’t share." He smirks before tossing back the rest of his champagne. Oh…

”That’s all you did, Rafe? Just look at my pictures; make sure I was safe?“

He gives you an open-mouth smile as a blush creeps across his cheeks. "You really wanna know?”

“I really wanna know…”

“That red swimsuit you wore in Cabo might be my favorite thing, princess.”

You roll your eyes, expelling a dizzy laugh. “So… Again, Professor Cameron, is that all you did? Just look at my pictures; make sure I was safe?"You bully before taking a sip.

His gaze darkens on yours, the look in his eyes telling you more than enough. "Absolutely not.”

Rafe adjusts himself in his chair, spreading his thighs a little wider as he pinches a fresh cigar between his lips. He reaches over to the coffee table, snagging the Perrier-Joute, drinking from the bottle. You can see that he’s getting more comfortable as time passes by, as well. Laughing a little more, a few more buttons on his shirt undone, drinking straight from the source.

“So, Rafey,” you ask in an unholy tone as you stroll from your chair to his, dropping down to your knees to slink the rest of the way. “Is there anything I can do for you? I really need that A." 

He quickly forgets his cigar, resting it in the ashtray without a second thought. Rafe extends the bottle to you, pouring it carefully, some still dribbling from your glossed lips down your chin. He leans down, pinching your cheeks in one hand, licking the mess to your lips. ”I got a few things you can do for me, princess.“

"Tell me,” you whisper, fingering the buttons of his Dior button-down before pulling it open fully. Your fingers trace down his tanned chest, passing through the deep indentations of his abs to his black leather belt.

You can already see his long, thick cock; trapped in Italian wool, making your mouth water. “Since you’re on your knees,” Rafe smiles as he pinches the button of his pants, opening that, then the zipper. “Why don’t you choke on daddy’s cock. Hmm?” You can feel the wetness between your thighs, the soft sweetness of his voice contrasting his domineering words, making your head spin. You draw the material over his hips, releasing his aching dick.

You glide your fingers through your pussy; gathering your slick on your digits, taking hold of the base of Rafe’s cock. He shakes his head and smiles as his teeth tug on his bottom lip. You work him slowly, watching as the little bead of precum grows larger.

Rafe’s hand toils through your hair, brushing it away so he can get a better view of your face. “So pretty on your knees, baby—” Rafe’s words get lost in a moan as your warm tongue traces along his prominent vein, catching his cum as it drips down the side.

You lick a few fat stripes up his shaft, kissing his ruddy tip wetly as his dick twitches in your palm. “Fuck, honey,” he groans deeply, tossing his head back on the leather chair. “Might not ever let you leave." His hold on your strands tightens as your warm, wet mouth wraps around his swollen tip. A deep moan follows as you suckle on Rafe’s head, flicking your tongue along his slit. You caress his balls, taking him to the back of your throat.

Rafe pushes you a little farther, releasing a needy moan as you deepthroat cock. Tears roll heavily down your cheeks as you take as much of him as you can get, gliding off slowly; swirling to the tip, making Rafe’s eyes roll back. ”Jesus Christ, angel, where’s that gag reflex? Huh?“ He laughs airly. ”So good at sucking cock.“ Rafe pitches his hips, ramming you deep, making you gag. ”Mmm… Shit. There she is,“ he groans.

Rafe slumps a little lower as he lifts the bottle to his lips, taking a pull. ”Gonna bust my load already… Damn, you look good,“ he praises through a panting breath, making his stomach muscles flex. His thick thighs tremble as you start to stroke him with your mouth, rolling his heavy balls in your tiny hand. You release his cock with a pop, causing him to let out a desperate plea for more.

”M'so wet, Rafe,“ you whine, feeling your wetness drip from your pussy, gliding down your inner thigh. You take two fingers, skimming them through the mess. Rafe’s already set, snatching your wrist; guiding your dainty fingers to his mouth.

He savors the taste, only releasing them when you tighten your lips around his dick again. Twisting your hand at the base, you bob up and down. Rafe follows your strokes, pressing you down here and there as he mumbles praise. ”Lips look so good around my cock, sweetheart. Look at you, take it, baby. Such a good little slut f'me. Gag on it. Fuckin’ gag on me. Mine… This mouth is fucking mine.“

You hollow your cheeks, milking his cock with your mouth, making him whimper and shift in his chair as his eyes slam shut. ”I’m right fuckin’ there. I—I’m… Fuckkk,“ he moans, hazy eyes widening as you sink your pussy down on his dick instead.

”Bounce on my cock. Tits in your face,“ you whisper against his lips, repeating his words from his office as you lower the top of your dress as well.

”You’re a fantasy, baby. Fuck.“ Rafe slaps your ass cheek roughly, then the other side, hissing out a breath as your pussy tightens around him. Rafe pants and groans, his muscles wound tight as he tries to hold steady, watching you as you ride and bounce on top. He’s speechless, eyes moving from your face to your breasts; losing control when he glances down, watching the place where you connect; his thick cock glistening with you.

”Fuck me,“ he grunts in blissful defeat, taking a harsh grip on your hips, pounding deep. Rafe moans your name as he cums hard, continuing to fuck upward, gritting his teeth in overstimulation. No part of him wants to stop now that he has you like this. Rafe pulls you into his lips, kissing you slowly as you grind through his sticky spent.

"Should I stop?" You whisper, feeling Rafe’s smile spread against your lips.

"No, princess. Don’t fuckin’ stop.”

Your garter belt wraps around your thighs, lingerie hugging the fullness of your breasts; something new, something bought by Rafe just for you. It’s a gorgeous set; cups made of two large satin ribbons tied at the center; your crotchless panties, a delicate red lace.

“C'mon, princess. Stop makin’ me wait," he croons.

"This is too much, Rafe… I don’t need all of this. Truly," you sigh as you round the corner, relaxing against the doorframe.

Rafe licks his lip, savoring each glimpse of bare skin. ”Nah… This one’s for me.“ He pushes off the bed, moving toward you, pulling you close before kissing you deeply, breaking away from time to time, solely to take you in. ”Better than I imagined…“

”You thought about this?“ You hum.

”More than I should, princess,“ Rafe breathes, lifting you into his arms. You wrap your legs around his waist as you bend your arms a little tighter around his neck, playing with the hair at the nape of his neck.

Rafe walks you over to the bed slowly, taking his time as you press your chest against his, hearts picking up pace together. He sets you down on the mattress, mounting you a moment later.

Rafe’s absolutely beautiful like this: dark blonde hair a mess, flushed cheeked, skin dewy. He cages you in, admiring you for a moment before starting again. He grinds his dick against you, trailing pre cum on your skin as he works his body against yours. Rafe continues to tease the both of you, his cock, painfully hard as you wait for him to ease your ache.

He swirls his dick through your arousal, nudging your entrance with his swollen head. Rafe gives you one last look before dropping his focus low. ”Shittt,“ he groans as your walls pull him in. He fights the urge to throw his hips into you, working slow enough to let you feel every curve and ridge until he’s filled you to the brim. You don’t even realize you’re holding your breath until he rests his heavy head on your shoulder.

”Fuck, Rafe.“

"Squeezin’ me so tight," he breathes. Rafe completely bottoms you out, balls resting against your ass. He grips your hips, forcing himself even deeper, pressing his cock into you with his full weight making you squirm away slightly.

”Where are you goin’, Princess?“ He mumbles against your warm skin, the safeword you joked about during dessert right on the tip of your tongue, but the pleasure outweighs the pain.

”Nowhere, daddy,“ you pant as you wrap your legs around his waist, urging him to stay.

”My girl,“ Rafe growls, lips latching onto your neck, sucking harshly. He marks you with his lips, branding you with what will surely leave behind a dark purple hickey. His teeth sink into your skin, causing you to whimper.

Rafe starts to rock his cock into you, nailing your sweet spot each time. You wrap your arms around him, marking him in your own way as your manicured nails drive into his skin. Rafe moans your name, getting off on the ache.

His body drags away from yours, tugging at the bow between your breasts, letting the satin fall to your sides as he changes positions. Rafe starts to stroke as hands move from your hips to your breasts, gripping them tight, pinching and rolling your nipples before settling on your neck.

You wait impatiently for his grasp as Rafe studies his skin on yours. He smirks wickedly, watching the way his rings glint in the low lighting, his hand wrapped like a necklace around your pretty little throat.

Rafe tightens his grip, making your eyes roll back as he pumps into slow and deep, snapping his hips each time. You can feel yourself a little more breathless than before; your pulse felt under his heavy hand. You let out a choked cry as his other hand finds your clit, rubbing circles on top.

”Faster,“ you beg, your voice cock-drunk and hoarse.

”Mmm… Bet my little slut wants it harder too. Yeah?“

"Yes—Fuck," you squeal. Your breasts bounce with each clap of his hips, his fat tip kissing your g-spot with each thrust. Rafe gives it to you harder and faster as you feel your pleasure about to boil over.

He’s just as pussy-drunk, eyes glossed, pupils blown. Your eyes flutter closed, drool seeping out of the corner of your plump lips. You feel Rafe’s breath on your skin, his soft tongue cleaning you off just as he did with the champagne, spitting it back into your open mouth this time.

His tongue tangles with yours, sloppy and breathless, as you swallow each other’s sounds. ”M'gonna cum,“ you gasp, feeling tears of pleasure well in your eyes.

”Me too, baby. You gonna make a mess? Let me clean it up for you,“ he pants.

”Yeah—ahh,“ you answer shakily. Warm liquid squirts from your sex, soaking Rafe’s thick cock and his expensive sheets. "Fuck, Rafe," you whimper. I can’t believe I just did that… I’ve only seen that in porn. Rafe quickly snuffs out your embarrassment as he coaxes you further.

”Fuck, baby. Just like that. I think my girls got more in her. Don’t you?“ He grunts, not letting up, applying more pressure to your clit. You feel it again; a second release, Rafe fucking you through the spurts of your climax.

Rafe was right. He always gets what he wants.

"Gonna cum… Gonna fill you so full, Princess. Fuck," he moans.

"Cum in my pussy, daddy.”

Rafe’s eyes roll back at the sounds of your voice, his release following close behind, muscles tightening as he floods you with his finish.  He throws his head back, breathing deeply as he comes down from his high.

“Co'mere…” You whisper. Rafe gives you a satisfied smile, burying himself in your neck; holding you close for a moment before rolling you on top.

You rest your head on his chest, listening as his heart starts to slow with his breathing. Rafe’s rough fingertips skim your spine as he releases a deep breath. “Mmm… Baby?” He mumbles sleepily, wrapping you tightly in his arms.

“Yes,” you whisper, blissed out and breathless as you meet his beautiful eyes.

“You’re never leaving.”