Your favorite barista at that. With your patience hanging by a frayed thread and the little spark of energy you have left inside of you, you exert all of that to defend this poor girl — and the sanctity of this place.

“Are you always this much of a dick or only to people you think are beneath you?”

The man — tall, brunette, blue eyes, a classic all-American clad in an MIT t-shirt, looking like he bathes in daddy’s money — has the audacity to look taken aback. “Excuse me?”

“I’m asking if you take pleasure in bitching at people who get paid minimum wage to serve douchebags like you overpriced coffee every day.”

Blue Eyes gapes at you. It’s a shame, really. He would’ve been just your type if he weren’t such a dick. That’s the regrettable thing about men — they have mouths.

“I’m not—” he begins, having the decency to get somewhat flustered. His eyes fly around the room to find pairs of curious, judgmental eyes on him. His lips twist in irritation but he manages to grit out, “I just want my actual coffee order.”

“Then ask for it,” you snap, “you don’t need to pull a Shakespearean soliloquy to get a fucking frappuccino.”

“Black coffee,” he corrects.

“Of course it is,” you roll your eyes. “Now, can you ask politely or do I need to start my own monologue about the detrimental effects of men in society?”

He gives you a satisfying wince. “No, you don’t need to do that.” He turns to Evelyn, the barista. “Can I get my correct order?” He only glances at you because you’re searing him with a look, which ends up with him adding, “Please.”

Now, when the two of you tell your separate group of friends that this is the story of how you met, no one would believe you — not with the way the two of you are joined at the hip. You bicker, you argue, you get into hours-long debates at house parties about the ethics of Greek life.

But afterwards, you can also say without a doubt that Scott is a friend.

A friend who you then proceed to drunkenly fuck one night at his frathouse.

A friend who you swear you would never fuck again afterwards.

A friend who you, that same night, decide to fuck. Again. Thrice.

You hate to give credence to his reputation on the MIT campus, especially as an outsider who doesn’t go here, but you understand why there are constantly women throwing themselves at him.

You tell yourself that this is all in good fun; your last couple of youthful years before selling yourself to the American healthcare system for the greater good should be spent doing the worst humanly possible things to yourself.

If that means fucking Scott every chance you get, having him stretch you out over every possible surface, his hand over your mouth to muffle your cries, a packed house be damned, then so be it.

Truth be told, you don’t expect things to go anywhere with Scott. The two of you come from vastly different worlds with vastly different dreams. It’s not a tragedy. You two are simply star-crossed, never meant to be lovers.

Scott complains to you about how his parents are constantly trying to set him up with debutantes — the crème de la crème of society — for him to marry; all the while you’re still tucked to his side, naked limbs tangled between each other.

You don’t acknowledge the ache that pulses in the left side of your chest. It shouldn’t matter at the end of the day because friends don’t stay friends forever, let alone lovers.

And you and Scott are not lovers.

However, you do have to reckon with the consequences of your decisions and the implication of your feelings when you find yourself with your head in the toilet, breakfast swirling down the drain for the third time that week. You have to really reckon with Lady Luck punishing you when you realize that you’re weeks late on your cycle, too caught up with school and Scott to notice.

When the two pink lines appear, your fear has reduced your inevitable shock into ashes.

Your first thought is that you have to tell Scott. There isn’t a doubt who the father is since you haven’t been with anyone else since him. This feels like a decision the two of you have to make together; you’re both adults and you should be able to have a professional, rational conversation.

That’s what you tell yourself all the way to his place, body moving on autopilot tracing back the path to his lush apartment near his campus. You barely acknowledge Jimmy, Scott’s very kind doorman, when you take the elevator to his floor.

Not once in the entirety of your… acquaintanceship have you ever been nervous to see Scott. But now your hands are trembling and you suppose it’s from the fact that you have a fucking unplanned pregnancy.

You don’t have time to fully process what that means when Scott swings open the door, and the first thing you see is the suitcase popped open on the floor with clothes haphazardly thrown into it.

Swallowing the bundle of nerves in your throat, you raise an eyebrow in question. “Going somewhere?”

“Head to my uncle’s in Oklahoma for the long weekend.”

“Oklahoma?” You close the door behind you as he begin to fusses with his clothes again.

“Yeah, he’s a real estate developer buying up a shit ton of land down there. Thinking about connecting it with storm chasing. He’s expanding quickly so figured I’d see what it’s like. ”

Your stomach sinks, dread tightening your chest. “The job or Oklahoma?”

He shrugs, completely unaware of your spiraling mind. “Both.”

“You’d really give up your cushy doorman apartment for tornadoes and motels?”

His lips curl into a smirk and your stupid heart is quick to hammer in your ear. Curse him and those deep dimples. “Sweetheart, you know I was born and raised in the south.”

Oh, you know. There’s a reason why that tinge of an accent goes straight between your legs every time he’s upset. “I don’t think a metropolitan like Dallas is the same thing.”

While Scott busies himself with packing again, you splay out on his bed, eyes on the bare ceiling as you try to calm your thundering pulse. You really shouldn’t be this stressed. There are ways out of this — options that two of you can take regardless of what you decide.

Hey, Scott, I’m pregnant. Yes, your child. Am I sure? Yes, you shithead, I haven’t fucked anyone else in months.

Oh, by the way, I’m also probably in love with you, but that’s a secondary problem to the human growing inside me. Thoughts?

“Did you need something?” His voice rips you out of your head.

Your heart rate hasn’t eased, but you have to do it now. So you turn on your side, propping your head up as your belly twists with apprehension. You open your mouth but then you notice the look in his eyes. You know that look all too well; it’s the trigger to all of your bad decisions, including but not limited to being bent over the bathroom sink with all of your friends on the other side of the door and risking arrest for public indecency on a public beach on spring break last week.

His eyes trail over the exposed sliver of skin where your shirt has ridden up, his hands abruptly dropping a shirt to reach over and drag his calloused palm over your hip. He slides it to your back, onto that little dip on your spine. He doesn’t say it out loud, but he likes the way you automatically arch towards him when he does it — like right now.

He hums and squeezes your waist to prompt you.

“Nothing,” you blurt out, flipping over so you’re facing his window instead. The city looks beautiful this time of day, sunset casting a golden glow across the architecture, painting it in the shades of the sun.

You hear him shuffle behind you before the mattress sinks with his weight. He smooths a hand over the curve of your waist again, fingers spreading out across your stomach. “You’re thinkin’ about something.”

With a deep breath, you test the waters. “Just the future, the usual.”

“What about the future?” His fingers brush your hair to the side as his lips cling to your neck.

“Work, family, friends,” you pause, chest squeezing, “kids.”

“Kids?” He snorts softly, “Where is this coming from? Never heard you talking about them before.”

Stay calm. You roll over to playfully glare at him. “I’m not getting any younger, so I have to think about these things today.”

“Or in a few years once you get your license and settle into the hospital,” Scott cocks an eyebrow. Your lips thin and he relents. “Alright, so kids, what about them?”

This is it. “Have you thought about them? Whether you, um, want them?”

Scott tilts his head deeper into his pillow. “I don’t think so. Not anytime soon at least. Kids are a hassle and I’m too young for that. Still have to go out there, make money, chase dreams and what not. I can barely take care of myself, let alone another human being.”

His chuckle is drowned out by the sudden persistent ringing echoing in your ear. He must sense it, feels your body going taut next to him.

“What about you?” He murmurs.

If he had asked you a few months ago, you would’ve scoffed and called him crazy. You too have your own dreams to pursue, the world to change and all that. But now, when you know that there’s something else growing inside you, you find that you don’t have the answer to that.

You’re not part of the crowd that thinks aborting this baby would mean murder, but you also never thought that you would be carrying something so special so early. While Scott’s answer isn’t surprising, your reaction to it is — your rationale had been simple: if Scott says no, then you wouldn’t go forward with the pregnancy. If he said yes, then you would have to consider it more seriously.

Scott’s answer is loud and clear, yet you don’t feel so settled with your own.

“Hey, you alright? What’s going on with you?” Concern stitched to the furrow of his brows.

You laugh, your throat feeling a little tight. “Probably just pre-period thoughts.”

He relaxes at that, rolling his eyes. “Women—” you pinch him and he yelps, chuckling. “I’m kidding. I can pack later. Let’s go pick up a pint of that strawberry cheesecake ice cream you like.”

The corners of your lips tip up as he pushes himself off the bed and offers you a hand. “Since when are you so nice to me?”

“I’m nice when I want to get laid.”

You don’t bite back the urge to roll your eyes.

So you’re a coward, sue you. While Scott finishes packing for his flight, you fall asleep in his silk sheets. Slipping in between the edges of consciousness, you feel Scott tuck in behind you, a kiss pressed to the back of your head as you finally give in to slumber.

Afterwards, you tell yourself that you have two months to make a decision. Two months until graduation, that’s your deadline.

A big part of you wants to tell him so you can stop lying about how you won’t be drinking tonight because you’re still hungover from some other party that you never went to. You’re exhausted from biting your tongue when he invites you for sushi, your favorite meal.

“I’m paying,” he insists for the third time.

You yawn, feeling the twinges of nausea rearing its head at the thought of it.

“You never turn down sushi.”

However, you also realize that telling him would be selfish. Despite his reputation, the man has a strong sense of responsibility to finish what he starts. In this case, it would be you. You can’t fathom him feeling like he has to stay here, that he has to be with you, that he has to give up his dreams. For you. He would hate you — if not now, then in the future.

Even worse when you imagine him telling you that he would never, ever do this with you — specifically you. After all, he has many bachelorettes lining up at his doorstep who are likely more than happy to wait a few years to start a family with him.

You’re not sure you’re prepared for that.

With every day that passes, the truth is shoved further down your throat, fear overtaking it.

Before you know it, you’re standing at the airport with him. He wrangles you into a Scott-like hug: one-armed, stiff, a click of his tongue like it’s inconvenient for him to show affection.

“You’re gonna be good, right?”

You scowl, “I’m not a dog.”

His mouth curves up, teeth peeking in his smirk. “Not even gonna turn around thrice and bark for me for my last day?”

“Are you trying to get on your flight in a body bag?”

He’s silent then for a moment, looking at you. Everything blurs around the two of you, noise muffled like you’re in a bubble and all you can hear is his long exhale. “This isn’t forever, you know. I’ll come visit when I finally need you to pump my lungs of all the dirt I’ll be inhaling.”

“Gonna cost you.”

“Wouldn’t expect any less.”

The two of you leave it at that. You could say more. I’ll miss you. I love you. Come back. Stay. But you say none of it. Part of you thinks that Scott knows, part of you hopes he doesn’t. This is his big moment. His future. A picture-perfect frame and you’ve been cut out from the canvas. 

“We’ll keep in touch,” Scott shrugs with a promise.

Your hand flies to your stomach on instinct. You can practically feel that silent heartbeat. If you keep this baby, you can’t possibly hide it from him.

If you can’t hide it from him, he may hate you.

And that’s not something you can ever bear.

So you smile and nod — and you let him go.

To say it’s been a long day would be an understatement. Starting your morning with a hundred unread emails followed by a series of difficult patients (one of which sneezed on you for good measure) and then a last-minute, dreaded ping at four from one of the study sponsors looking for data — all on a Friday no less.

What you need is some hot tea, a long massage, and preferably your phone buried six feet under. A place where you won’t be able to hear the constant calling of your name.

“Girl, are you ever going to leave?” Jenna pops her head in. “You need to go and get ready.”

You peer down at your sleeveless blouse and slacks. “Why cna’t I go to dinner in this?”

She gives you a look, a bone-chillingly disapproving one. “Get your ass out of here and I’ll come pick you up. We’re going out out.”

Given that this is a planned outing, you shouldn’t feel so miserable about it. You’ve even planned it all out — your mom takes Ben until Sunday, which neither of them mind because they adore each other — and you finally get one night to yourself to do whatever you wanted and an extra day to recover. It’s the first time in four years you’ve actually had time.

Don’t get you wrong. Your body created the miracle that is your son. Beautiful, bright Ben. Sweet, kind-hearted Ben who inherited none of his parents’ terrible tempers and foul personalities. You couldn’t have asked for a better pregnancy, better birth, or better child.

It’s the first time you’ve been away for him for a personal outing. Usually, it’s some sort of work emergency; what constitutes a work emergency as a research coordinator, you’ll never know but the higher-ups love the dramatics of making everything sound like life or death.

Jenna, your colleague and probably the closest person you consider a friend, swings by your place an hour earlier than promised.

You’re still not fully ready.

“I knew you were going to drag your feet through this,” she sighs and drops an armful of clothes onto your couch.

“I’m not dragging my feet, I just have nothing to wear.”

“And that’s exactly why I’m here.”

Jenna has always had a knack for convincing people to do things they never wanted to do in the first place. For example, this is how you find yourself squirming uncomfortably throughout the night, wiggling to adjust the skirt lower down your thighs. However, when you do so, it ends up hanging too low on your hips, showing more skin than you’d like.

“Will you quit fidgeting?” she huffs as she pulls you through the crowd, “You look hot.”

“I look like I’m attempting a mating call with a freshman with a fifty-dollar fake,” you grunt.

She giggles. “Well, if you want to play cougar, I do see some college kids who have been eye-fucking you since you stepped in.” She nods her head in the direction of a group of boys who are in fact staring at the two of you, expressions a little too salacious for your liking.

“They’re looking at you,” you note pointedly.

Jenna is the the perfectly balanced combination spicy, smart, and sweet. At least two doctors and more than a fistful of residents follow her around like puppies around the hospital. She has them on leashes.

“That’s because my tits look great in this dress,” she grins. “Come on, let’s get some shots.”

In hindsight, ripping three shots back to back when you haven’t drank like since college is a terrible idea. It hits you hard and fast, but it was much needed to avoid crinkling your nose at the pile of sweaty bodies on the floor. You dance with Jenna for the most part, you let a few people buy you drinks, and… you’re having a good time.

Sometimes, you miss this part of you — the one that isn’t a mom. You love being Ben’s mother but at the same time, you have to relearn what it means to be you.

While this may not be you forever, this is a piece of you that feels like coming home. At least, that’s what you think when you feel much looser with the liquor in your veins. Jenna twirls you on the floor and you laugh, barely paying any mind to the pinching of these knee-high boots or the fact that you’re showing more skin than you have these past few years.

She spins you around again — except this time, your balance is already walking a fine line, so you end up stumbling into a wall.

Shit, not a wall. Said wall is moving.

“Fuck, I’m so sorry,” you blurt out, hand to your chest to prevent your tits from spilling out of this top. The last thing you need on your first night out is to be arrested for flashing a stranger. You’re straightening to look for Jenna when you hear your name.

Not only your name but it’s your name. Your name said in a way that has fireworks exploding in the pit of your stomach. Your name in a way that knocks the breath right out of your lungs.

Because it’s your name coming out of the mouth, with the voice of, the one person you thought you would never see again.

Scott’s eyes are wide when you finally lock gazes.

“You—” he starts then stops. “Holy shit.”

“W-what are you doing here?” You gasp.

“I’m out with, um, the guys,” he says, but his eyes never blink. Neither do yours. You almost want to, hoping this is some sick nightmare and you’re going to wake up in bed with a filthy hangover that takes you out for the day.

On the other hand, it’s Scott — and he looks good. Too good. His hair is a little longer, curling at the base of his neck. His eyes shine fifty different shades of blue with the flashing lights. His strong brows are furrowed into that familiar frown, one that has heat gathering between your legs. He’s got a suit on that seems to stretch for miles over his shoulders, top buttons of his shirt undone to reveal his pretty collarbones and that gleam of a silver chain.

You can’t be here. You can’t do this.

“Right, okay. I’ll leave you to it then.” You’re turning on your heel and you’ve barely made it forty-five degrees before his large hand wraps around your elbow.

“Wait, hold on,” he calls out, tugging you back towards him, your back landing against his front as you stumble backwards. He ducks his head towards your ear to make sure he’s heard but all you can feel is the ghost of his warm breath tickling your skin. “Where are you going?”

You try to extract yourself from him but his grip is firm, now on your hips. “I’m here with a friend. I need to go find her.”

“I’ll go with you.”

You absolutely do not want that. It must show on your face because then he’s scoffing, frown morphing into a disgruntled scowl.

“Is that how you greet a friend you haven’t seen in years?”

Instead of deigning him with a response, giving him the satisfaction of your annoyance, you wordlessly turn and make your way through the crowd. Scott is close behind, you can feel his height looming over you. He’s got a protective arm out to push away anyone who even comes close to touching you, charting a path through this Red Sea.

Jenna is on someone’s lap when you find her. She drags her eyes away from an unfairly attractive man when she spots you. You narrow your eyes at the man before turning back to your friend. “Are you good?”

“Peachy,” she beams. Her attention on you is short-lived when it wanders to Scott who’s hovering around you like a chaperone. “I see you’ve found your entertainment for the night as well,” she winks, eyes practically glittering as she wiggles her brows at you. “I’ll catch you at work Monday?”

Well. That’s your cue to go home. With one final press to make sure she’s okay, Jenna waves you off.

“Your friend’s having much more fun, maybe you should consider doing that for yourself,” Scott whispers in your ear, head ducked to reach your ear. “I could volunteer myself for that position.”

Whirling around, you trap him with a burning glare, which he only grins at.

There’s no way in hell you’re getting into this clusterfuck tonight. Not when you’re still half-convinced that you’re dreaming this up. So you turn back around and start marching towards the exit.

Unfortunately, he continues to follow you. He doesn’t even do anything except stick close to your tail. For some reason, that only pisses you off even more. Maybe if you will him away with your mind, you’ll turn around to find him gone. Because he can’t be here. Why the fuck is he even here?

“Why the fuck are you here?” You snap now that you’re on the quiet sidewalk. The music inside is muffled, leaving you alone with your heart beating in your ears and Scott’s stupid smirk plastered across his face.

He leans back against the railing, arms crossed over his chest. You can see how the cotton of his shirt stretches across his wide chest. Jesus, did he get bigger? How is that even possible? The worst part is the amused look printed onto his face, dimples carved out deep. “I’m doing a talk — at MIT.”

Of course, he is. You shouldn’t be surprised. You’d never admit it to him but you have been keeping up with him in the news. He’s been building a startup with advanced technology focusing on disaster resilience combined with real estate development. While you don’t know the full mechanics, you know he’s successful enough to be nailing government and corporate contracts, landing himself on the Forbes 30 Under 30 list.

You could also lie and say that his face is everywhere, but you really had to look him up to find anything about him.

“So why aren’t you talking? At MIT. Why are you here?”

Scott shrugs, “I reached out to the guys to catch up. I would’ve reached out to you too if I had your number.”

You stiffen, chancing a look at his face to find pure irritation. He has every right to be, but you also had your reasons for doing what you did — he just doesn’t know it.

A gust of wind whips past your bare legs, the chill settling on your shoulders. Boston is unforgiving this time of year so you quickly shrug on your jacket. However, you can still the weight of his gaze rolling over the length of you, slow and warm. His steely blue eyes look almost onyx with the way he drinks you in, dragging across your exposed collarbones down to your bare legs.

“What are you doing here?” He asks coolly.

“Out. With a friend.”

His lips tighten around the corners — slightly, only enough for you to notice. “What, to pick up guys?”

“No,” you scowl, “just for a good time.”

“Are you?”

“What?”

“Having a good time?”

You were — until him. “Fabulous time,” you sarcastically sigh as you pull out your phone, readying yourself to call a car home.

But your movements halt when you feel warmth soak your entire body, your breath hitching in your throat. Scott’s buried his face in your neck, his front against your back, nose tracing the column of your neck, palms splayed over your stomach.. His teeth graze your skin, eliciting a trained shiver out of you.

“How about we have a better time elsewhere?”

“No,” you swallow, “we shouldn’t.”

“Come on, you don’t miss me?” Scott slides his hands higher, enough for his thumb to brush the underside of your breasts. “We used to have fun, didn’t we?”

“Scott, no,” you protest, but you sound frail even in your ears.

“Why not?” He murmurs, lips placing soft, wet kisses against the back of your ear. Your head tilts on instinct, granting him more access as he nibbles down your neck.

“You’re drunk.”

He chuckles, “‘M so fuckin’ sober. I got a shot in when you bumped into me.”

“Then you should go back in there, go have a good time.”

“Found something more fun to do tonight,” he smiles against your skin. “Well, someone.”

His hands drift a little higher, cupping your tits and squeezing. The groan he lets out molds with yours as you resist another whimper crawling up your throat. “We’re outside,” you hiss.

“Never stopped us before.”

The more warm kisses he presses onto your skin, the weaker your resolve becomes. Your body moves on its own accord, leaning back against his chest while your own rises with a stuttered breath.

“Come with me. Promise I’ll make you feel good. Just like old times.”

“Scott…”

He knows — by the way you say his name — that you’ve given in. He doesn’t give you a moment to hesitate, squeezing your hip and keeping you close as he calls a car. His hand stays on you, toying with your nipples until you’re grinding your ass back against the erection under his slacks.

He hasn’t even kissed you, not properly at least. His lips stay on the pulse point on your neck, nipping lightly as his hands settle possessively around your waist. Even in the car, he hoists you over to his side, a thick arm wrapped around your waist to hold you hostage against him. When his other hand travels up to bury in your hair, he yanks on it just enough to have you gasping.

“Always so sensitive,” he whispers with a grin, “so responsive for me.”

“Fuck you,” you mutter weakly.

His breath is warm as he chuckles into your hair.

The car pulls up in front of some posh-looking hotel. You don’t have a moment to guess how much this place costs a night — nor do you want to, the number would likely break your heart. His hand is wrapped around yours, tight, like he’s making sure you don’t try to make a run for it, as he pulls you stumbling through the lobby.

Scott invades every single one of your senses when he corners you in the elevator. He bites down on his moan when he dips his head, nose nuzzling into the curve of your chin as he takes a deep inhale. His exhale quivering.

“You still wear the same perfume,” he notes, sounding almost pleased.

“Creature of habit,” you mutter, hands finding purchase on his biceps in an attempt to stay upright. Your knees feel a little weak with the proximity, with how much heat his body is radiating.

He’s barely swiped through the door and you’ve barely had the chance to close it before Scott is pinning you against the door and slanting his lips over yours. The first kiss knocks you right off your feet and Scott is quick to catch you and hold you up against the door — one hand on the back of your neck and the other on your waist.

He breathes you in as his tongue strokes your bottom lip. He tastes like a mix of vodka, sugar, and a hint of bittersweet nostalgia. The way he moves his mouth is familiar, you’re drawing on muscle memory to remember how you used to kiss. How to move your mouths in sync with the rhythm of your heartbeat.

You swallow his hungry groans as his hands explore you all over, sliding up your curves to push off your jacket before venturing south again to cup your ass from underneath your skirt. “This fucking outfit,” he snarls low, “never seen you wear anything like this before. So fuckin’ tiny, I could see your ass walking behind you.”

“J-Jenna’s,” you clarify breathlessly. “My friend’s.”

“And this goddamn top — I could peek down your chest the entire time we were there. Wanted to rip this off you so I could play with these pretty tits,” he murmurs, kissing his way along your jaw and down your neck. “Then this—” he squeezes your ass, “if I saw one more person try to get a peek, I would’ve bent you over the bar and fucked you then and there to show them that none of them have a shot. Not them. It’s only going to be me.”

Your response dies in your throat when he begins to suck light bruises onto your skin, pain blooming in concentrated spots across your skin. He’s always been territorial, leaving one mark after another to deter anyone else from coming close.

While you usually enjoy the slow build, the persistent ache between your legs demands otherwise.

“Come on, just fuck me already.”

“So goddamn impatient,” he snips but picks you up, legs wrapping around his waist. Your body slips a little lower and you can feel the bulge in his pants poking against your own core. Your panties pressed directly against the thickness, which leaves very little to the imagination. “So fuckin’ hard,” Scott grunts, “started getting a chub the moment I saw you. Then I saw you walking from behind, this gorgeous ass just swaying like you’re teasin’ me. Then you gave me that mean look you’ve got and I’ve never been so fucking hard in my life.”

“You’re such a freak,” you huff in a laugh

“Takes one to know one.” Scott backs you into the hotel room, letting you fall back against the bed as he tucks himself between your legs dangling off the edge. His eyes roam over you, exploring every inch of your exposed skin. You’re fresh meat and Scott is starving.

He leans forward, a single index finger starting at the outer corner of your breast where it’s pushed up by your corset and journeys over the trim of your top. You hold your breath, back arching slightly into his touch. “I can’t believe you were out like this. Dressed like a fuckin’ slut. I don’t even wanna know how many guys out there imagined fucking your tits.”

It’s demeaning, you should tell him off. But this is Scott and he knows exactly what you like and — god, do you like this. A whimper climps past your lips instead, a needy little sound that has him smiling to himself.

“But I’m the only one who gets to do that tonight. Isn’t that right, sweetheart? You don’t spread your legs for anyone else.”

“Do you ever s-shut up?” You snap, voice frayed to betray the desire thumping in your chest. His hands slide underneath you, settling on your lower spine, as your body rises instinctively to his touch. He drags the zipper of your corset down, peeling it off you and casting it aside.

Scott straightens again, tilting his head as he takes you in from his vantage point.

His gaze burns uncomfortably. He doesn’t say a word and, for the first time with Scott, you feel… shy. Hands fly to your stomach as burning embarrassment sears like a branded mark on your skin. He takes a deep breath and his sweet time outlining the shape of you like he’s recreating a sketch of you in his mind.

“You’ve changed.”

Your heart sinks. The two simple words sting more than they should. Pregnancy changed your body. While you know that it’s created a miracle, it’s survived and remained strong, you also know that you aren’t the same. Softer, more lines stretching across your stomach. Your muscles haven’t survived your long hours at the hospital. You just never thought it would hurt this much for him to point it out.

But you know better than to take this kind of disrespect. If he no longer finds you attractive, you know that you could very easily find another man to satisfy you.

You try to wiggle away from him as your face shifts in aggravation. “Well, I have. So, if you don’t like it, I’m going to go because I don’t fucking need this from—”

“Hold on, never said I didn’t like it,” he murmurs, grabbing both your wrists and pinning them above you. He ducks forward again, nose brushing against your jawline. He breathes you in, you can hear him gulp. “Fuck, you look so good, sweetheart. Sexier. Something about you. Even better than I remember — and shit, do I remember you. Thought about you far too much.”

Oh. “Really?”

He pulls away slightly, eyes searching yours as his lips curl into that smirk. “Really. Every night, with my fist wrapped around my cock, imaginin’ it was this tight cunt of yours wrapped around me. I remember how it would squeesze so sweet like you’re trying to choke my dick.”

“You’re so crass,” you roll your eyes.

“You’re tellin’ me that that doesn’t turn you on?” He grins, hand stroking up your inner thighs until he finds your center, fingers nudging the damp gusset of your panties to the side as he dips in between your slick folds. “Knowing that I get off thinking about you. Thinking about this perfect cunt of yours and the way you’d pulse around me, milkin’ me dry every time you cum. It’s like this pussy was made for me.”

On cue, you tighten around him, breath hitching in your throat with his filthy words.

“Yeah, she likes that,” he chuckles, “shit, did you get tighter? I don’t remember you being this stiff. It’s gonna be tough getting me in, baby. Gonna have to stretch you out and it’s gonna fuckin’ hurt.”

You clench again at the thought, a moan bubbling up your throat. Well, seeing as you haven’t slept with anyone in years, it’s not a surprise. But you’d never tell Scott that — you don’t want to think about all the other people he’s fucked since the two of you split.

“We’ll make it fit, we always do,” he coos and you don’t block the roll of your eyes, pulling another amused sound from his lips. “Still got that attitude,” he shakes his head, hands squeezing around your wrists, “Don’t worry. I’ll fuck it out of you soon.”

Scott drags down your underwear, flinging it somewhere around the room. You’re about to scold him but the only thing that comes out of your mouth is a broken whine as he stuffs two fingers into you. The slide in is humiliatingly easy with how wet you are, but his thick fingers still stretch out your taut insides.

“Jesus,” he mutters, “won’t even let me in, huh? Have you been takin’ care of her, sweetheart?”

Heat pools low in your stomach and rises to your face. He pushes in and out of you slowly at first, blue eyes staying on you to watch you squirm, watch your body shift off the bed. He mutters something about still the fuckin’ same as he prods his fingers into you, testing out different angles to see which ones make you tick — like he’s relearning how to please you.

He realizes that it takes no time at all to do so because you still move the way he expects you too, especially when he brushes up against that spongy area inside you that wrestles a noise that mixes a gasp and a moan from your lips. Through the hazy blur of your vision, you spot a proud smile dancing on his lips as he continues to push and push until you’re panting desperately underneath him.

Every drag of his fingers along your cunt feels like the strike of a match that sets your entire body on fire. He sets off flames in different parts of your body, all the while he’s still holding you down with just one hand. His head ducks to take a nipple into his mouth and sets your entire being ablaze. The two actions combined are enough to have you sweating over the risk of cumming too fast, too hard.

You’ll be damned if you finish in under two minutes with him.

Another curl of his fingers has you resetting that bar to at least one minute.

“Scott, please,” you rasp.

“Please what, sweetheart?”

“You know what.”

“Use your big girl words,” he tuts softly, “you can do it. I wnat to hear you ask for it.”

Your brows descend in a vexed glare. “Why are you suck a prick?”

“Because it fucking turns you on,” Scott grins, “and because you like my dick.”

You can’t help it, you poke because that’s what you do with him. “I can find good dick elsewhere.”

His fingers stop moving inside you, his body completely still as he levels you with a stare that sends a shiver slithering up your spine. His jaw clenches, white fury masked by his terrifyingly composed expression. “You wanna run that by me again?”

Your mouth feels like sandpaper now, snippy response scraped away to death on your tongue.

He pushes his fingers in deeper, drawing out a cry from your chest. “Think you can get good dick anywhere, sweetheart? Is that why you’re so fucking tight? Have you been spreading your legs for anyone?”

“Fuck you.”

“I thought you had better taste. Clearly, none of them could stretch you out the way you like. You fuckin’ like it when it hurts, when it burns so good you can taste it on your tongue,” he mocks, hand releasing your wrists to grab your jaw. He applies just enough pressure to have your cheeks aching, but that pain only has you clenching around his fingers, stomach twisting with stupid need. “Look at you,” he chuckles, gripping you harder, “gettin’ so tight around me before I even stick my dick in you. Filthy slut just likes bein’ treated like one. Maybe I should stuff that mouth so you stop running it — don’t need you to talk, just need to hear those desperate little sounds you make when I fuck you good.”

Your chest sings with shame when all you can do is take his words. But you take what he gives because he only gives you what you can take; he knows exactly what to say to rile you up, to tip you over the edge, have you seething and dripping between your legs. Even after years, he still knows your body best.

Except now, he has a touch more of that southern drawl that you’ve always adored but could never get enough of.

“She just squeezed me again, sweetheart.” His eyes twinkle with delight. “Why don’t you put yourself out of your misery and just ask me?”

Your lips pinch and Scott pushes deeper, eyes fluttering when he feels you tighten around him again. He can feel your control slipping away, pride curling deep into your chest to hide.

“Fuck me.”

He raises an eyebrow. “That it?”

“Please.”

He's biting back a laugh, lips curving just a little more. “Attagirl, there’s your manners. Was that so hard? Guess I haven’t been around to teach you how to be polite with me.”

Your chest throbs with a mix of disgrace and need again. He pulls out his fingers, watches them glisten with your juices underneath the room’s warm lights. Then, with his eyes locked on yours, he slides them over his tongue and closes his lips around it. He sucks on it hungrily, moan muffled as he laves at them to savor.

“Tastes a little different too,” he hums, “maybe I just missed you too much. Missed this pretty pussy.”

Maybe if you weren’t so focused on getting him to fuck you, you might’ve noticed a strange something laced into his syllables — something you may mistake as hurt.

But that wouldn’t be possible because Scott Miller doesn’t get hurt. He takes and throws away like it’s nobody’s business, only thinking about what would be beneficial for him until it no longer has a use. He’s untouchable, always has been.

Before you can process even a hint of it, you feel Scott sliding his cock along your pussy lips, wet with juices that can’t seem to stop leaking all over his sheets. “Makin’ such a mess already,” he grunts, tip poised at your entrance.

You nudge your hips lower in an attempt to encourage him to move faster, but his palm presses down on your hips as he gives you a scalding look.

“Behave.”

Your legs press together around his hips. He feels it. But you do as you’re told.

“Good girl,” he sighs as he slowly pushes himself in. The initial burn has your eyes rolling to the back of your head, like fire between your legs as you let out a cry with how much he’s opening you up. His cock parts through you like a spear and your breath catches in your throat as he finally buries himself all the way in. “Fuck, sweetheart,” he hisses, “you’re so goddamn tight. Feels like that first time. Like you’ve never been fucked in your life.”

“B-been a while,” you stutter, the confession slipping out before you can stop it.

Scott’s hands on your hips drag you closer to the edge until your ass is against his hips, he pushes your legs up against your chest, feet thrown over his shoulders. “I can tell. You’re such a good girl for me, baby. Been saving yourself for me? Have you been thinking about me too?”

You’d die before you give him the satisfaction. Because you have, but you’ll never tell him how many times you’ve come undone with the memory of him alone. Filthy words he’d whisper in your ear toiling around your brain until you can practically hear him right next to you. Promises that have you gasping for air before you’re thrown over the edge of desire.

“Perfect pussy, she’s takin’ me so well,” he moans, deep and guttural, as he begins to ease himself in and out of you. He starts off with a slow pace before building a steady rhythm that painstakingly stretches you out around his cock. With every thrust, he stretches you out just a fraction more, each time slightly easier than the last until the burn dissolves into warmth blooming between your legs.

Scott’s still watching you; with every jerk of his hips, he intentionally angles himself to hit all the right spots that have you crying out for more, your fingers tangling in the sheets. It’s as if he’s drawing out a map of you, marking x wherever he finds a winning piece. He knows exactly how fast to fuck you to have you gasping and crying, tears leaking down your face until you can taste the salt on your tongue. He knows exactly how slow to go to have you begging him, desperate sounds falling from your lips until he has no choice but to show you mercy.

He knows that telling you you’ve got a cunt like a virgin would have you squeezing around him. He knows that praising you for being such a good pussy for him would have you arching off the bed with your eyes slammed shut.

He just knows and that thought scares you more than anything.

“Fuck, I missed this pussy. Nothing else could compare, you know. Tried to, trust me. Every time, I can only cum thinking about your leaking cunt, always drooling all over my fat cock, thinking about you sobbing underneath me until I kiss away those pretty tears. I couldn’t stop picturing feeding her my cock, stretching her out until you’re whining like a bitch in heat,” Scott growls as he picks up his thrusts, sliding in easier, faster now that your arousal has paved the path in for him.

You should be offended by his words, the feminist in you wanting to tell him off for such ridiculously degrading words, but all they do is add fuel to the fire. You haven’t felt this good in so long and you don’t think—

“Wait, fuck,” you blurt out, fingers latching onto his bicep. “Scott, condom.”

Scott freezes, like deer in headlights. “Condom? We’ve never fucked with a condom.”

“I know,” you bite out but again say, “condom.”

There’s a vein pulsing on his forehead, the last shred of his self-restraint hanging on by a thread. He looks more inconvenienced than anything. “Did you get off the pill?”

“N-no, but just wanna be careful.”

Scott laughs, nudging his cock deeper. “Why are you worrying? It’s ninety-nine percent effective.”

Well, apparently, you’re part of that one percent of failure.

He sees that you still look conflicted and he lets out a frustrated exhale. “I don’t have condoms. Haven’t carried it around with me in forever.”

“I need to fuck this pussy, sweetheart. I’m not letting that pretty head of yours change your mind. Not gonna go outside just to get condom. I’ll just pull out.”

“That shit does not always work!”

“Neither does a condom!”

Fuck, he makes a good point.

Scott slowly begins fucking you again, chipping away at the walls you’ve slammed up. “Promise I’ll pull out when I cum. Won’t do it inside you. No matter how much I want to cream inside this pussy, just like I used to.”

Your stomach flips with that admission.

“Remember how I used to fill you up? God, I can still see white leakin’ out of this cunt. I loved cumming inside you in the morning, you could never get all the cum out so you’d be dripping with me. Could smell you when I fucked you again after too.”

Shit, he knows your resolve is down to nothing when he pumps faster into you. He doesn’t need you to confirm what he already knows. He returns to fucking you with fervor. His hips are eager as they chase after yours, slamming against you as his cock fucks all rational thought from your mind. He leans forward, pressing you deeper into the mattress until all his weight is squeezing the breath from your lungs. It only intensifies the pleasure, his cock sliding in with a trail of fire as he kisses your calves.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” he coaxes, “give it to me. I know you wanna cum. I can feel you tightening around me.”

More moans tumble from your lips as you babble your agreement, words slurring together in an incoherent mess.

“Give it to me. Let her go. I wanna see you fall apart on my cock, want you remember that no one else can make you feel like this. Nobody can — or ever will — fuck you this good. This pussy’s mine and I’m gonna make sure she only remembers me, only takes the shape of my cock.”

You’re struggling for air as your chest constricts, wanton need burning all throughout your body.

“Cum for me, baby. Come on,” Scott grunts, punctuating each word with a thrust.

With a few more pumps of his cock, your stomach tightens, desire coiling tight until it snaps and your pleasure crests. It feels like you’re soaring, body trembling with the force of your orgasm as you clam down around him, legs shaking and pussy sucking him in deeper.

Your cunt continues to pulse as your descent from the high occurs painfully slow. But Scott’s not done. He just uses you at that point, treating you like a little pocket pussy to get himself off as he fucks dirty into you. He spreads your legs so he can see your tits bouncing with how fast he’s going. You can tell he’s close when his drives get sloppier, cock just fucking into you because he can. Then he’s quickly yanking himself out with a gasp, tilting his cock so that ropes of cum spill across your stomach, your tits, decorating the skirt with abstract splatters of white.

His hard cock twitches against his stomach as he holds himself up on the mattress, labored breaths weighing down on his chest.

Even in your weary state, you can’t help but giggle. “It’s been a while, huh, old man? Can’t keep up anymore?”

He tosses a glare your way. “Let’s not forget the last time I overstimulated you until you cried and begged for me to let you cum again. How many times was it? Five?”

Your cheeks warm at the memory. “That was years ago.”

His gaze softens, melts into something that has your heart squeezing. “Yeah, it was.” ith a groan, he pushes himself up and disappears into the bathroom, leaving you in the mess of his orgasm. When he comes back out, he’s got a warm, damp towel in hand that he’s using to clean you of the sticky mess. 

He raises your legs again to check on your pussy. 

“Does it hurt?”

You’re only mildly surprised by his concern, mostly because you haven’t been on the receiving end of it for a while. “No, I’m fine.”

“You sure? I went pretty hard.”

All you can do now is roll your eyes, using your foot to nudge his stomach. “I’m a big girl, Miller. I know what I can take.”

His lips twitch as he shakes his head, muttering something you don’t catch under his breath. He plops down next to you, eyes sliding shut as he lets himself sink into the bed. He drapes an arm over his eyes, stomach dipping as he exhales deeply.

The lines of his chest are still defined. If anything, his muscles are more evident now. Veins running along his biceps to display the progress he’s made while he was away. You didn’t realize how much he’s changed, how much broader he got, how there are more grays on his head than before. Jawline that was soft through the year that you knew him sharpened into a knife that slices straight through your chest.

You turn away from him, eyes glued to the ceiling. The moment Scott stepped back into your life, he rolled out a fog that clouded your judgment. Now that the haze has cleared, you’re lying in the consequences of your actions, you can’t help but let the remorse carve its place into your bones. You’re a fool if you think this time will be any different.

It took you one night — one night — to fall for his charm. One night for your years-long resolve to fall apart.

You thought you would feel differently about him now, that you could let these silly emotions fade into dust in his absence. However, your heart still beats the same way for him — a little faster, skipping a beat or two, but always towards him. The two of you still move in sync, like two pieces of the same puzzle finally slotting together.

But you’ve changed — or, you should’ve changed. You shouldn’t be this easy, not anymore. Not when there’s more at risk than just your heart.

The shame crashes over you in waves, pulling you under, and suddenly, you’re breathless. The air feels thin when you think of Ben — your son who doesn’t even know who his father is, who has been curious enough to ask once but kind enough not to ask twice.

An arm splaying across your thighs sends you crashing back to reality. He rumbles with eyes closed, “Sleep.”

Gently, you remove his arm as you come to your feet. You move swiftly, body functioning the same it always does — opting for flight rather than fight. You collect your panties and quickly tug them on under your skirt. Before you can reach for your top, a hand wraps around your arm.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m gonna go.”

His confusion deepens. “Why?”

With a shrug, you pick up your corset from the floor and zip it back up. Scott steps in your path before you can make it to the entryway — still fully nude, cock half hard.

You force your eyes to stay on his face instead. “We fucked, we’re good, right?”

Annoyance flashes across his eyes. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“What else do you want from me, Scott?” You sigh.

You try to sidestep him but he moves faster. His shoulders stretch out to their full breadth as he straightens. “What if I want to fuck again later?”

“You’ve survived this long with your fist, I’m sure you’ll be fine.”

For a moment, he doesn’t say a word. The silence lingers like a ghost between you. He looks conflicted, eyes shifting around the room like he can find the answer somewhere on the walls. “We haven’t seen each other in years and you’re flaking on me?”

It’s your turn to offer no response, mainly because you don’t have one.

“You disappear on me for years. I’m seeing you for the first time since we graduated and you can’t even be bothered to stay?”

You pinch the bridge of your nose. “I just really need to get home. I have to go to work tomorrow to wrap up a few things.”

“I can drive you.”

“I have no clothes.”

“We’ll leave early in the morning.”

“Scott.”

Your mind wanders to Ben, wondering what he’s doing right now, how you should be there with him — instead of here with the dad that he never knew.

“Alright. Let me drive you at least.”

He watches as your eyes get distracted again by his nude form before you, him completely shameless, maybe even smug that you still find yourself cross-eyed with him.

“No, I can find my own ride.”

When you manage to maneuver around him, Scott hooks a finger through one of your belt loops to yank you back, and you’re now facing his broad, bare chest, the light smattering of curls directly in your line of sight.

“Can I see you tomorrow then?”

He ducks his head so his lips brush over yours. You can feel that familiar dizziness tease the edges of your rational mind. He knows exactly what he’s doing, especially when you unconsciously lean towards him, like a moth to flame, Icarus who flew too close to the sun.

“Scott,” you whisper when he pulls back to mock you.

“You ever gonna tell me what happened? Why you left me high and dry. You disappeared from everywhere, couldn’t find you on anything,” Scott begins, “Then you went ahead and changed your number. I had no way to reach you.”

You don’t blame him for the bitterness that stains his voice. Even after you promised to stay in touch, the further along you were in your pregnancy, the more you realized that you couldn’t handle the guilt of lying to him. So you… simply stopped. Stopped responding to his texts. Stopped picking up his calls.

Once he ceased his efforts, you changed your number. You hoped he wouldn’t notice, that it would be a clean slate. Clearly, that isn’t the case.

“Can we talk about this another time? I’m exhausted and I’m sticky—”

“Use my shower. Sleep here. I’ll drive you home then to work in the morning.”

It’s a kind offer. Far too generous for a man whom you distanced yourself from. “You don’t have—”

“I want to,” he insists, “don’t be fucking difficult.”

“Tomorrow, alright. Please,” you plead one last time.

Scott’s blue eyes wash over you, searching for a sign of weakness. He must see the firm stubborn hold in your gaze, because you see him deflate in real time. “Fine. Give me your number.” You open your mouth, ready to extend some bullshit excuse, but he beats you to it.  “So help me god if you try to argue with me again, woman, I’m tying you to my bed.”

You know he’s serious. You can only relent and say that you’ll text him.

“Now.”

“Scott.”

“I’m not fucking around,” he snaps, “I’m not spending the time I have here trying to chase your ass down again.”

Again? You’re too tired to question it further so you pull out your phone, finding his contact — one that you haven’t touched in some time — and shoot him a quick message.

“Happy?”

“Delighted,” he bites back, baring his teeth at you.

You only roll your eyes. “Now, if there’s nothing else, I’m going to go.”

“Call a car.”

“‘Course, I will!”

He snorts. “Don’t act like you wouldn’t have taken the T home.”

You’re about to argue again, but he knows you too well. The T would’ve saved you money, but certainly not time. Instead of replying, you say, “I’m going to go.”

Scott still seems none too pleased but lets you go.

As you cave to the pull of slumber that evening, your phone lights up with a message.

It was good seeing you tonight.

You’re a goddamn coward, that’s what you are. You don’t actually have to come into work the next day but you needed an out. Instead, you wake up that morning with an old friend — that jackhammering in your head commonly known as a hangover. 

Vices hit a little differently when you’re older, especially when you haven’t touched a drop of it in a while.

That goes for the drinks and Scott.

It feels like a fever dream when you wake up alone the next morning, you wanted to pretend like none of it ever happened. Like you didn’t meet your former fuck buddy slash friend slash father of your child at a club and went to his hotel with him as if no time had passed. 

Opening your phone to his text was the first slap of reality.

The second was when you look in the mirror to see the marks all over your neck like you’ve been mauled by a mountain lion.

Possessive fucker. 

Jenna’s message certainly isn’t helping either. Hope you had a great night ;) 

You did. You wish you didn’t but Scott somehow still knows you like the back of his hand and, if you had stayed, there would be no doubt that he would change your great night into a fantastic night.

Pinching the bridge of your nose, you quickly reply to her with an appropriately crude emoji. 

Scott — well, you do what you do best. You don’t respond.

You don’t reply when he asks you what time you get off work today.

You don’t reply when he sends a single question mark as a follow-up.

You definitely don’t reply when he says—

You’re going to ghost me again, aren’t you?

Instead of acknowledging the magnitude of your actions, you spend the weekend keeping yourself busy. Every time your mind veers to Scott and the messages left unanswered, you pick a new spot in the house to clean. 

By the time Ben returns on Sunday, the house is spotless.

Your mom looks at you suspiciously. “You cleaned.” 

“Yes,” you say before you turn to pepper wet kisses all over your baby. He giggles and his face scrunches up. “How was weekend with grandma?”

“We ate ice cream!”

It’s your mother’s turn to look guilty when you raise an eyebrow at her. “Is that so? How much ice cream?”

Ben, realizing what he’s just exposed, turns to his grandmother then back to you. He pinches his fingers together. “This much.”

“Mhmm, next time grandma gives you ice cream, I’m gonna remind her how much dental visits cost,” you coo, pinching his nose. 

He runs off to unpack his bags, which leaves you alone with your mother who is much too perceptive for her own good. 

“So, good weekend?”

“Good,” you brush off, glancing at your gleaming kitchen counter.

“Did you bring a man home?”

“Mother!” You gasp, “We are not talking about that.”

She rolls her eyes. “You’re an adult, I’m sure the birds and the bees talk is no longer necessary. Not to mention protection, you’ve learned your lesson there.”

“Thanks,” you drawl.

“I’m just saying you look… good. Satisfied.” Your cheeks flame. “You know you’re allowed to have a life outside of all this. You’re still young and there’s still time to find love.”

Love, huh? Scott’s face appears in your mind with that stupidly attractive smirk. You shake your head. “Yes, Mom. I’m aware.” She stares skeptically at you. “I know. It was just a night of fun. I have responsibilities, can’t be reckless anymore.” 

“It was chance,” your mom murmurs, “you were never reckless.”

“The universe has picked her favorites and I’m not one of them,” you laugh, “but I think I milked my luck with Ben, can’t ask for a better kid. Hopefully he behaved?”

“He was an angel.” You nod, humming. “Are you not going to tell me about this man then?”

Groaning, you try to walk away from her but she follows you down the hall. “There’s nothing to tell and I didn’t bring him home.”

“Oh, you stayed at his?”

“No, I… went home.”

She lets out a little surprised noise. “That bad?”

No, that good. “I’m not discussing this with you further.” 

Monday sends you crashing back to earth. While you spent your Sunday recuperating with Ben, a calm day of eating vegetables to balance the treats and touching grass on the playground, being back in this office — this dreary reality reminds you that life really isn’t that swell.

It doesn’t help that Jenna pounces the moment you walk in, an endless stream of questions pouring out of her lips about the hottie you were with and if you got your brains fucked out of your head. You don’t satisfy her with a response, slipping into your office and locking it shut.

An office job coordinating and babysitting adults for the sake of science was never part of the plan, but plans change and you’ve learned to accept it. Now, you’re stretching to work out the crick in your neck as you do a doom scroll of the countless unread emails in your inbox.

You’re trapped in there for most of the day, vision beginning to blur when you have to squint at the screen to decipher the letters. However, the banging close to the end of the day has you jolting awake at your desk, knee slamming up against your table.

A curse slips past your lips as you hop over to open it. Jenna — wide-eyed and dangerously excited — grins like a cat that’s caught a mouse.

“Hottie alert.”

You look at her, unimpressed. “Please don’t involve me in your plans to cross professional boundaries. I don’t want HR to mark me as an accomplice.”

“No, I mean hottie — as in hottie from the club who gave you those hickeys that even your concealer can’t hide.”

Your hands fly to your neck, where the bruises pulse in demand of your attention. Warmth crawls across your face. You’ve spent enough time allowing your mind to wander to memories from that night, you don’t need to do it again at work.

“What are you talking about?”

“He’s outside — looking for you!”

The splat of your heart dropping to the floor echoes in the ensuing silence. You must be hearing things because you could’ve sworn Jenna just told you that Scott is here at your workplace. The place where you work.

“No,” you blurt out.

“Yes,” she hisses, “get your ass out there. Clearly, you made quite the impression. Or did he make an impression with his dick inside your—”

“Finish that sentence and I revoke your rights to see Ben,” you warn and she gasps, biting down her giggles. “Can you just tell him I’m not here? Better yet, tell him there’s no one here by my name.”

She gives you a look. “He’s not an idiot. He saw me and clocked me as the friend who dressed her like that.”

Groaning, you press your forehead against the door.

“Was he that bad?”

Again, that good.

“He looks like a good time. Mind if I take a crack at him?”

The question has you jerking upright, your expression souring. Jenna’s a great friend, but Scott is— what is Scott? He’s nobody. He should be nobody.

“I’m kidding,” she laughs, “jeez, you’re obviously into him. Why are you being difficult?”

Because this will end the same way. Your heart broken. Scott gone again.

“Listen, I don’t think he’s leaving and the others are starting to gossip. They think you’ve got golden pussy that’s bringing a male suitor around this desperately.”

Fuck, the last thing you need is Scott causing problems at work. With a relenting sigh, you follow Jenna out front and find Scott standing there, looking impassively at some of the women — nurses and patients alike — who are shooting flirtatious looks at him. In fact, he’s not looking at them at all — his eyes float around the room until they land on you.

He doesn’t look pissed. No, his lips tug up into a smirk tinged with mirth. He says your name, your heart sinks. It sounds like a greeting and a threat. Your stomach turns.

Scott looks you up and down, a silent assessment that concludes in confusion at your clothes. Instead of addressing it, he hands you one of the cups in his hand.

“Tea,” he answers before you can ask, “with a spoonful of honey.”

Your favorite afternoon remedy.

Unfortunately, you feel your colleagues’ aggressively probing gazes burning to your side. It’s natural they’re curious; you’ve never had visitors aside from your mom and Ben — let alone a man. Let alone a man who looks like Scott.

You’ll never hear the end of this.

“Follow me.” You drag him by the elbow towards the waiting room, far away from the disappointed looks. When you’re finally out of sight, you turn around. “What are you doing here?”

Scott looks far from pleased, but his tone is calm. “Came to see you.” He shrugs, taking a sip of his coffee — probably black with a drop of cream.

“You can’t be doing this to me at work, Scott.”

“You weren’t responding to my texts.”

“I’m at work.”

“I can see that.”

“Don’t be cute.”

“You always think I’m cute.”

You take a deep breath. “Scott, what happened last Friday—” He perks up. “It can’t happen again.” 

“Why not?” He scowls, jaw clicking off to the side. 

“We’re adults now, we can’t be… doing whatever we were doing. It was fun when we were young but come on.”

“What? Too old to have fun?”

“I think I’m at a point where I should be looking for something serious, not a repeat of college.”

There’s a firmness to his eyes that makes you squirm. Something unexpectedly grave that’s foreign to Scott. “Serious,” he echoes, “you want serious?”

“Of course, I do.”

He licks his lips, taking a step towards you. Your heart skips a beat. 

“If that’s the case—”

“Mom!”

Your entire body goes cold, the word both warms and slashes your chest. Your son barrels down the hallway and you barely flinch when you feel his tiny arms wrap around your legs, Ben cheesing up at you with a toothy grin.

You don’t spare Scott a glance when you crouch down to Ben’s height, allowing him to wrangle you in a tight hug. “Hi, bud, what’re you doing here? I was supposed to meet you at home.”

“Missed you.” He pulls away to beam at you and your heart positively melts.

This perfect kid. “Missed you too, buddy,” you smile, “I still need to finish up work. Think you can be patient for me and wait a few more minutes?”

He blinks at you. “Aunt Jenna?”

You shake your head. Jenna is always a crowd favorite. “Aunt Jenna—”

“Is right here!” The familiar voice cheers as she appears next to you. Ben throws himself around her legs next with a giggle. “Come on, we’ve got some new toys in the playroom I can show you. Cool LEGOs.”

Before you know it, she’s already whisking him away, leavingyou, Scott, and your mother — who is staring at him with a little too much curiosity.

On the other hand, you can’t even bring yourself to look at him. The thing that shakes your confidence the most is his silence. Upset Scott goes on long tirades, spitting out vile things until he’s clam enough to take action.

However, a very, truly angry Scott is quiet. The rage simmers on the surface, bubbling in imminent explosion on the inside.

Your mother grins at him with sparkling eyes. “I never knew my daughter had such a handsome friend.”

“Mom!” You immediately scold, embarrassment spreading through you like wildfire.

Scott clears his throat, smile cordial as he turns to your mom. “Pleasure to meet you, ma’am. I’m Scott. A friend.” The last word he seems to add reluctantly.

“Oh yes, she did mention… a friend,” your mom says with a teasing lilt that proves to push that stake of betrayal deeper into your gut. “We’re going to head back for dinner after this. Would you like to join us?”

“He has other things to do,” you say at the same time Scott responds with, “I’d love to.” This time, you do turn to look at him.

His eyes are cool, almost distant, as he regards you. It’s an impassive look that says more than most people expect. A shudder wracks through you as your mouth dries in fear.

“I’ll be there,” he emphasizes, looking pointedly at you.

Your body withers slightly under the intensity of his gaze and you choose to redirect your own displeasure at your mother who simply disregards you. “Wonderful, I’ll wait with Ben. Come find us when you’re done, honey.”

Leave it to your own blood to make the bed and force you to lie in it.

But you’re also your mother’s daughter so you take that as a chance to escape yourself. “I have to wrap up work so I’ll see you later,” you exhale quickly and high-tail out of there before he can even open his mouth.

Procrastinating emotions has always been your strong suit.

By the time you finish work and step back outside, you pray that Scott’s anger would’ve faded. He’s calm when he agrees to follow your family car in his own. You’re constantly peeking at your rearview mirror to see if he changes his mind but his car never disappears from your line of sight.

When you let all of them inside the apartment, Scott gives it a critical once-over. He politely toes off his shoes and steps into the living room. Sweat piles on the back of your neck as you urge Ben to wash up while you and your mom prepare dinner.

“Pasta alright?” You ask, testing the waters.

His answer is respectful and composed. A simple yes, thank you.

It only makes you more nervous.

Dinner passes by without a hitch, despite your bouncing knee the entier time. Your mom asks Scott how he knows you and what he does for work; she’s at least smart enough to tread carefully on the bigger questions of why you’ve never mentioned him and why he feels comfortable enough to show face at your job. The extent of his introduction to Ben is taht he is your son and Scott is your friend.

“Uncle Scott,” Ben confirms, familiarizing himself with Scott’s name on his tongue.

You see the ice in his eyes chip away, albeit slightly, but he nods.

After Ben gets exactly a single scoop of the chocolate chip ice cream in the fridge, you tell him that it’s finally time for bed. He whines about how having a guest means that he should be able to stay up longer. You give him one look and he promptly skulks to the bathroom. 

You take this chance to escape Scott’s attention for a little while; god knows his staring gets unnerving after two hours of it. You take your time preparing Ben for bed, switching him to his comfy pajamas, reading him his favorite book with the voices the way he likes it. When he’s finally out cold, you get up, press a kiss to his temple, and turn to exit. 

Scott’s standing in the doorway, watching you quietly. His expression is thoughtful, but he doesn’t say a word when you lead him back to the kitchen. 

You walk your mom to the door, thanking her for the day.

Her eyes wander to Scott behind you who seems intent on lingering even when it’s late. She smiles at you. “He seems like a good one,” she whispers. “I like him.”

“You’ve known him all of two hours.”

“I can sense it. I like how you are with him.” You raise an eyebrow in question. “Emotional. You get riled up so easily. You’ve spent the last few years playing adult that it’s sweet to see you like this.” 

Your cheeks are hot as you shoo her again. She throws out a final nice to meet you and see you again soon before she finally leaves the two of you alone.

Scott’s eyes chase after you as you fuss with your kettle, preparing caffeine for the conversation you’re about to have. Maybe you should break out that tequila buried deep inside your cabinet instead. He no doubt has questions. You don’t know if he’s connected the dots; you can only hope he hasn’t. Ben looks more like you after all.

There’s a small part of you that hopes Scott would know, call it fatherly intuition, but a bigger part of you wants to avoid addressing that question. He’s only here to visit, he doesn’t need to know that he has a son. If he doesn’t know, then the two of you can return to life as is once he leaves.

You don’t want to admit how much the thought stings.

“Ben,” Scott clears his throat as you set a cup of coffee in front of him. He gratefully accepts it, takes a sip. “Is his dad…”

“Not around.” It’s a safe answer.

“Who is he?”

“No one you know,” you lie smoothly, maybe too quickly.

His eyes narrow a fraction but he doesn’t push. “You never told me you have a son.”

“We weren’t talking, Miller. It would’ve been strange to say hey, hope you’re doing well, by the way, I have a kid!”

“Well, whose fault is that?” He snaps.

The air is strung tight, electricity crackling quietly in the echo of his words. 

“I just—” He takes a deep breath, hands shoved into his hair. “I don’t want to fight,” he says, doing his damndest to try and mean it. You know that he wants to push, to question, to challenge you. Confront you for leaving him in the wind. 

But he doesn’t want to lose you — the same way you don’t want to either. 

“Ben’s a good kid,” you murmur, thumb stroking the rim of your mug. 

“Well, you did raise him,” he notes, lips twitching up. 

You clear your throat. “This is why I can’t do… whatever that was last night again. It was a fluke and a mistake. It’s been a long time since I’ve had a night out like that and apparently I just needed to get laid.” 

Instead of the chuckle you’re expecting, some jab about you being abstinent, there is weight that settles heavy in the atmosphere. Scott looks at you carefully, lips tight. “A mistake? Really?”

“Not—” you stop yourself, biting your tongue, “not like that.” He cocks an eyebrow, looking at you with a mix of irritation and interest. “I just think I shouldn’t have been so irresponsible.”

“Why? You would’ve fucked any man that night?” 

“Of course not!”

“So just me then.”

“Yes!”

The moment the confirmation leaves your mouth, you stop. Scott smiles, smug. “Good to know.”

“Oh, screw you.”

“You already did.”

The urge to hurl your mug at his head grows stronger by the second.

Scott bites down on his smile but you can still see the ghost of amusement on his lips. “But, listen, in all seriousness, if you need anything— I know raising a kid isn’t cheap and, with your hours and obviously childcare and all the necessities—”

You cringe. “Please don’t tell me you’re offering me money right now.” 

“I just want to help.”

“Not your responsibility.”

His jaw clenches. “I know that, but it doesn’t mean I can’t help a friend.” 

His jaw clenches. “I know that, but it doesn’t mean I can’t help a friend.” 

You consider arguing with him again, defending your stance as a perfectly capable, independent, single mother. However, you know he means well. This is how Scott Miller helps, this is how he shows you he cares. 

“Thank you,” you sigh, “I appreciate it, but I promise you I’m fine.”

Scott hesitates for a second. “You’re not a nurse.” It’s not a question. 

“I wanted to do it, but the pregnancy and the tough hours just didn’t seem healthy – or fair to a newborn. I’m doing something safer, more regular hours. It’s not so bad.”

“Wasn’t your dream though.”

“Well, sometimes dreams don’t work out.”

He doesn’t look appeased. “Why not now? He’s a little more grown. How old is he?”

Your heart rushes in your ears. “I have a good routine going. It’s not like I hate what I’m doing now—”

“But you don’t love it.” Once again, not a question.

“It’s… a job, Scott, I’m lucky to be employed in this economy.”

He grunts but doesn’t push further. “I’m not going to give you shit for not telling me—”

“Shocker.” The sarcastic remark slips out on instinct, Scott tosses you a scalding look with no heat behind his eyes. 

“But at least let me try and help you.” He knows you too well, can sense the argument threatening to fall from your lips, so he quickly adds, “I don’t want to hear it. However I can help, I will.”

When he has this voice, you know there’s no point in arguing, so you let it slide. “Sure. Thank you,” you surrender. “How long are you here for?”

“I’m leaving tomorrow afternoon.”

Oh. You’re fast to school your expression. “Got it. We should plan to catch up properly at some point then. Maybe tomorrow morning.”

The corners of his lips tug up and you’re already rolling your eyes, ears tingling with the stupid comment to come. “You don’t think we did that already? Or did you want a repeat?”

“Pig.”

“You love it.” 

A laugh bubbles up your throat, light and airy that has Scott’s smile rising a smidgen higher. 

For a moment, you think everything will be okay.

+ sam: im sorry for the woman i've become with him (i'm not) (i love this idiot so dearly). hope you enjoyed this part and look forward for more drama to come in the second!!!

scott is yearning for (taglist): @unabashedlyinlovewithyou @eiaf4uwn @thebabykashmere @nbhrhn @w1nchesterfiles @ae1szn @pinksplace @stanmarvelous @coffinlolz @chloluvsdilfs @athenxt

But when you decided to take a seat on his lap after dinner as he watched the reruns of Fresh Prince, your chest flush against his as you rested your head in the crook of his neck, he couldn't predict your next move.

"You okay?" he rubbed your back, voice as soft as it always was with you.

You nodded. "Missed you."

"Missed me? Baby, we been together all day," he laughed, moving his head away from yours to look at you.

"I know, it's just..." you never finished your sentence, trailing off as you stared at his lips rather than his eyes.

And of course, he noticed. That small hesitation from saying what you really wanted, how much you craved him in a way you hadn't even had yet? He noticed.

But he never said anything, just kissed your cheek and listened to your soft sighs, waiting on you to say something else but you never did.

The next time was a week after that, when he came back home to you after a week away for a gala, one you couldn't accompany him to because of a conflict in your schedules.

He found you sat on your vanity getting ready for bed, a maroon silk robe covering your body, the bare skin of your shoulder peeking through.

You turned at the sound of footsteps outside the door, eyes landing on Tyriq who was already looking at you with a lazy smile.

His body was leaning against doorframe, one hand holding his suit jacket, the other holding his loafers. His tie was loosened and the too three buttons of his dress shirt undone, and there was a light pink blush on his face, from the heat or the events of the day, you didn't know.

"Hi, love," you smiled, placing the eye cream you just applied down on the table.

He pushed off of the frame, dropping the loafers outside of it and tossing the jacket on the floor by the closet door before making his way to you.

He bent down to your seated height, kissing your neck, cheeks, and finally your lips. Your held his face against yours, eyes closed as you relaxed against the feeling on his lips on yours.

He gave you small kisses as he pulled away, your hands finding his shoulders and gently kneading the flesh there.

"I missed you," he spoke as he rested his forehead against yours.

"I miss you too." You wanted to say so much more but decided against it, hoping your silence was enough to fill that gap. And you didn't know it but he did, and it was more than enough for him. When you were ready, he would be too.

When he leaned over to pick you up bridal style, you let him, kissing him slowly as he led you to his bedroom that had slowly become yours too over the months you've been with him.

He laid you on the bed, the material of his clothes sliding easily against the smoothness of your robe.

You held the sides of his face as he kissed you deeper, needier. Your soft moans rang like bells in his ears, his leg slotting between yours as one of his hands held your waist firmly.

Heavy makeouts with groping here and there wasn't new to you both, before this relationship and in it. But you could feel the want radiating off of him, and it was beginning to rub off on you too, both scaring and exciting you.

You noticed his hand leave your waist, about to drag your robe further off your shoulders but before he could you took a hold of his hand, intertwining your fingers with his.

"Hey," a nervous smile displayed itself on your face. "You're probably tired, we should call it a night, hm?"

For split second, you thought you saw a hurt expression on his face, though it disappeared almost as quickly as you thought you saw it.

"Yeah, no, you're right," he squeezed your hand gently before letting go, lifting his body off of yours. "I'm go shower and get changed, you don't have to wait up for me."

You thought he was disappointed in you, and it crushed you seeing him walk away from you like that. So many thoughts ran around your head, and you sat for a bit, wondering why you couldn't just give yourself to him the way you wanted, why you were so scared of the idea of intimacy with Tyriq.

After removing your robe and stepping into your pyjamas, you rolled over your side of the bed, laying your busy head down on the pillows.

Your back faced the door so you didn't see Tyriq re-enter the room. You felt him lift the covers up, sliding underneath them before pulling you closer into him by your waist.

All your worries of disappointing him washed away with each kiss he pressed to any part of your skin that he could reach, murmuring a soft goodnight as he held you to him.

The third time, the predicament you currently found yourself in, was after a birthday dinner of a friend's that you both went to.

The two of you were seated next to each other and the whole time, Tyriq had been feeling you up. It wasn't unusual, only this time you were really feeling the effects of his almost teasing antics.

The way his hand squeezed the exposed flesh of your thigh every time he laughed at something someone said, the way you caught sight of his biceps flexing, almost bursting out of the black shirt he wore, the way he'd lean in and ask if you were okay, kissing the corner of your lips... it was all so much.

When everyone was helping clear up after dinner, you took the liberty of collecting everyone's cutlery. As you stood up, your dressed rode up against your thighs. You reached for the hen to pull it down, but your boyfriend beat you to it, his hands pulling on your dress from either side to bring it down to your desired position.

It was in the way his fingers felt so delicate and gentle as they brushed your skin that made you falter, or maybe it was the soft pat he gave your ass after that had you ready to break.

He gave you a smile, a knowing smile before you walked back to the kitchen and loaded the dishwasher with the cutlery and plates, your hands shaking as you tried to compose yourself.

Your friend thanked you for your help and coming to her birthday with a warm hug that temporarily eased your senses as you returned it, before walking back to Tyriq.

Only he wasn't sat at the table anymore but instead leaning his tall body against the wall closest to the front door, your leather trench coat in his arms as he typed at his phone.

He looked up when he felt someone walking towards him, his face softened when his gaze landed on you.

"You ready to go, mama?" he pocketed his phone, opening up your coat for you when you nodded. After he helped you put it on, you both said your goodbyes and you took his hand as he led you to his car.

He opened the door for you as he usually did, before walking around the front to his side after you were seated.

It wasn't a long drive but God, it felt like hours to you. Tyriq glanced down at the way you clenched your thighs together when he stopped at a red light, a small smirk gracing his lips. He knew you way better than you thought, and he found it endearing how oblivious you thought he was.

"You good? Had fun today?" his left hand rubbed the slight stubble on his chin as his right hand held the steering wheel, his eyes on you.

"Yup," you kept it short, looking back at him, some sort of mysterious expression in your eyes.

You lifted a hand to the nape of his neck, your newly done french tips gently scratching at the area.

Tyriq hummed as he melted into your touch. "You keep doin' that and I'ma fall asleep forreal," you laughed when he started to drive again after the green light, leaning over the press a chaste kiss to his neck before turning towards the window, bottom lip tucked between your teeth.

He started to speed up a little then, and in the text ten minutes you found yourself being helped out of the car and into your home.

Tyriq knew what you wanted, but tonight, he was gonna need you to say it. All of this frontin' couldn't be for nothing if you weren't going to let him know how it really was.

He watched you walk slowly up the stairs, your dress riding higher and higher as you stopped and bent down to remove your heels. You looked over your shoulder, noticing his eyes hadn't left your body at all, a smile on your face.

You carried on, allowing your feet to take you up to the bedroom where you began to remove your jewellery.

When you heard the sound of his footsteps up the stairs, you turned with your back to the door to hide the huge smile on your face, heart pounding with anticipation at what was to come.

"So," he crept up behind you, his arms snaking around your waist as he held your body against him. "You gon' tell me what you want and let me handle it? Or do you still wanna be shy?"

He pushed your mid-back knotless goddess braids over one of your shoulders, trailing kisses from your jaw to your neck on the other side. "What's it gon' be, baby?"

His voice was so husky and low, it turned you on even more, and you found yourself squeezing your legs closed as you stood there with him.

You didn't reply, simply threw your head back against his chest as he bit down gently on your neck, sucking and kisses the hickey he made. "I asked you a question, love. What you want?"

He turned you around, seeing your flushed state for himself. Eyes in a haze all lowered, lips slightly parted... you were fighting it so hard but he wanted you to know that you didn't need to do that anymore.

"I'm scared," you admitted quietly. Tyriq's hands upped your face, his thumb stroking your cheek as he look at you intently.

"You ain't gotta be scared. I got you, okay? Just tell me what you want."

You rested your hand against his, almost tearing up as you nodded because of how gentle he was with you. "I want you... please."

"See? That wasn't hard, was it, sweetheart?" he smiled before pressing a kiss to your lips. "I'ma go real gentle with you, you hear me?"

You nodded once again, stepping back when he gestured for you to do so. He pulled down the strap of your dress, watching it drop and poole and your ankles and leaving you in the matching black lingerie set you wore underneath.

"Goddamn," he whispered, twirling you around. "You been hiding all this from me?"

It killed you that you let yourself go this far into the relationship without any intimacy, but it was so worth it.

You hid your face in his chest, shying away from him but he wasn't having any of that. His hand crept up to the back of your neck, gently pulling your face out of his chest. He wasted no time pressing his soft lips to yours, smiling into the kiss when your hand squeezed his bicep.

He took the lead, determined to make this as enjoyable as possible for you. Pulling away from your lips, he kissed the corner of your mouth, your jaw, to your neck, his hand pressing gently yet firmly into the small of your back, guiding you towards his chest.

Your back arched when his teeth sunk into your skin, sucking the flesh he held between them briefly before releasing it, kissing over the new hickey you had.

Your breath trembled with every touch he gave you, desperate for more.

"Ty..." you whispered, your hands finding solace on his broad shoulders.

"Wassup, baby?" he played innocent, like he wasn't dying to have you the way he wanted.

You tugged at the bottom of his shirt and he smiled, dropping his hands from your waist to take it off.

He threw it somewhere on the floor, his hands back on your waist and lips on yours, slowly walking you backwards to the bed. You felt the mattress dip with the weight of both your bodies in the same area, Tyriq's knees on either side of your thighs as he kissed you deeply, sensually.

His body melted into yours, hips slowly grinding into your clothes core making shallow breaths leave your lips. "I got you," he whispered. "Just let go f'me."

It was hard to do anything what with the way his lips left such light kisses on your collarbone, nipping at your skin here and there. When your back arched as he kissed a tender spot on your skin, Tyriq took the opportunity to unclasp your bra, tugging it off your arms.

Face to face with you naked chest, he didn't know how to control himself. He quickly abandoned the marks he was making on your neck in favour of swirling his tongue around your left nipple, his right hand massaging the flesh of the other.

"God," he moaned, mouth full. "I could stay here forever."

The dampness between your legs became wetter and wetter with every inch of attention Tyriq showed your body. "'Riq," you whimpered. "Can you hurry, please?"

"You gotta be patient, baby. You been holdin' out on me, I wanna take my time with you. Make this real special."

You knew you were in for a long night.

When he finally lifted his head up from your chest, you looked down at his work, seeing the trails of where he had sucked and bit, holding back a moan.

He looked at you, lips already a little swollen. "You ready?"

You nodded eagerly, earning a small laugh from him.

Tyriq's hands grazed down your body to your thighs, squeezing gently as he readjusted his body. His head was just inches away from your clothed pussy, his hands wrapped around your thighs. Slowly, he pulled your panties off of your hips, tapping your thigh when he wanted you to lift up.

You saw the way his lips parted once he set his gaze on your folds, his fingers immediately reaching out to drag up and down.

You shivered at the contact and the contrast between his cold fingers and your warm pussy, but you welcomed him in nonetheless.

"Shitttt," he mumbled. "This what you been hiding?" He asked you a question but didn't wait for an answer, spreading his hand out so his thumb was right on top of your clit, rubbing your juices all over.

Moaning, you let your body fall back onto the mattress your chest heaving a little faster than it was before. With no warning, you felt Tyriq's tongue lick up to your clit, his hands gripping your thighs that threatened to close around his head. Not that he would've complained.

"Oh, God." He'd made jokes to you before in passing about how he could 'eat it', but you should've known better than to doubt his words. Part of you thought it was just your lack of experience in the sexual department, but no, he really was just that good.

Tyriq knew just where and when to apply the correct pressure to as he ate you out, French kissing your clit whilst you squirmed underneath him, legs already shaking.

"That's it baby, lemme hear you," he praised you when you didn't hold back a moan as he slid two fingers in carefully, prepping you just enough so that it didn't hurt you. He thrusted in and out of you at a slow pace, yet you felt the weight of his actions in full.

From the sloppy sounds of his mouth devouring you to your whines, the room was anything but quiet. Tyriq could feel himself growing harder at every little sound you released, wanting nothing more than to be inside you already but only after he made sure you finished.

His fingers suddenly curled up a little inside you, and your back arched off of the bed. "Fuck, oh my God, Tyriq," your eyes rolled back as you mumbled random words, his name mixed along them.

"Yeah?" He kissed your clit as he looked up at you briefly before smirking, going back to his work.

"Shit, just like that, baby, don't stop."

"i won't, mama, don't worry 'bout that." Stopping right now was the last thing on his mind. If it wasn't the sounds you let out that was spurring him on, then it was definitely the look on your face. Your brows furrowed together, eyes screwed tight when they weren't rolling at the back of your head, lips parted as you let out small pants the closer he brought you to your orgasm... he wanted to savour it all.

You didn't let him not when you were about to cum, but he felt it in the way your thighs jerked, squeezing around his head whilst he fucked you with his fingers, his tongue flicking your clit.

Your hand that held the back of his head unintentionally pushed him further into your pussy as you came with a loud groan, cursing when his fingers slowed down, completely coated in your cum.

Tyriq pulled his head away with a smile, and when you looked down, chest heaving, you noticed the lower half of his face covered in everything you. He looked back at you with a hazy smile before ducking back down, cleaning you, and him, off with his tongue. Your hips jerked when his tongue lightly grazed your clit, already feeling aroused again.

"See? You did good baby, ain't nothin' to be scared of." He spoke against your lips when he lifted himself back up to you, and when he kissed you, the taste of your own orgasm on his mouth did something indescribable in your mind.

Your wands wandered down his body as you kissed, snapping the elastic of the boxers he wore. He smiled, pushing off of you to grab a condom from the bedside drawers.

When he took his boxers off, your eyes stayed glued to his dick, missing the smirk he gave you, too busy oogling his size and length. It wasn't until he ripped the condom packet open and walked towards you that you finally lifted your eyes, sitting up.

"Are you sure you wanna do this?" He asked you. Though it was a sweet gesture, you gave him a look that said 'you literally just ate me out, let's not joke around', and as if he completely understood what it translated, he chuckled before rolling the condom onto himself.

"Lay back f'me, ma," he instructed, situating himself between your legs. You did as told, making yourself comfortable whilst he hovered above you, his gold chain dangling in your face.

He gave you a kiss, softer than the last couple of kisses he'd given you, like he was reassuring you through it. "Let me know if you want to stop, okay?" You nodded. "I need t'hear you say yes, baby,"

"Yes, I'll tell you." You felt small in that moment, though his actions were making you feel everything but that. This wasn't your first time having sex, but it was your first time in a long time and your first time with Tyriq.

"Hey," his hand cupped your cheek. "You with me?"

You nodded, placing your hand on top of his and smiling. He nodded too, before he reached down to align himself against your entrance.

The first push in was slow, testing the waters. His eyes traced around your face, searching for any signs of discomfort. He was such a sweetheart and the realisation that he could ruin you like this was killing you, you really should've given in to the urges sooner.

"This okay?" he stilled his hips when he was halfway inside you, easing the pain of not being stretched like this in a while.

"It's okay, Ty, you can move," your nails dug into his shoulder when his hips pulled back, thrusting out briefly before pushing back in, picking up the pace a little.

The heels of your feet clung onto his hips as you pulled him closer to you, feeling every inch of his body against and inside you.

"Shit," he groaned, your walls clenching against him just right. It was just so much for the both of you, the way your bodies learnt to be in sync with one another during the whole ordeal.

His hips snapped against yours, digging you out so well he had your head rolling back against the pillows.

"You're doin' so well, baby. Gonna take it all, yeah?"

You nodded, afraid he wouldn't even understand you through the whines you were letting out.

"That's my girl," his words had you dripping and he knew it, smiling at the way you looked under him, all flustered.

You unintentionally clenched around his dick again and this time his hips faltered. You looked up just in time to see his eyes flutter at the feeling, which only had you even more of a moaning mess.

Tyriq hiked your leg further up his hip, making it easier for him to dig you out deeper.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," you groaned when he reached a new spot inside you, his dick angled like it was curving up. You sunk your teeth into his shoulder, sure enough to leave a mark or maybe a bruise. Tyriq shuddered, moving his face so that it rested in the space between your neck and shoulder.

He left more hickeys, going over the ones he'd made earlier, all while you cradled his head.

This was so much more different than anything you'd ever experienced before. And the way he was so attentive to your body? It had you on the edge of tears.

"That feel good?" he asked after you almost screamed when he pushed your thighs back against your stomach, his hips slamming into you.

"Shittttt, yes it does─── I'm close, baby, don't stop..." It seemed those were the only words you could think of as he undid you, with no plans to stop.

"Get your nut, baby," His way of speaking so dirty yet so gentle to you had a hand in you orgasming so fast, he knew just how to work you.

You came hard and fast, coating the condom with your juices. Tyriq slowed down to help you ride out your high, holding you close to him as you whimpered, a few tears leaving your eyes because it felt that good.

Successfully having made you finish first yet again, your nails scratched the nape of his neck as he looked at you, his hips picking the pace up again.

"Stop lookin' at me like that," He grunted, his hips jerking into yours.

"Like what?" your hand held his jaw, pushing his gaze back to you when he looked away. He took one look at you and his hips stilled as he came, your hands caressed his face as he felt him fill up the condom inside you.

"Aw, shit," he groaned, letting his body fall on top of yours. "I told you not to look at me like that."

"I wasn't looking at you like anything," you smiled giddily whilst he left a single kiss on your neck.

"Mhm."

Not too bad for your first time together, and you knew that from there, it would be anything but the last time.

“Come over”

You sent the message like clock work. Cameron was always  your go too on nights like this. It had been 2 weeks since you last saw or talked to him. You assumed he was butt hurt over how you kicked him out after everything last time.

It wasn't your fault and you weren't going to feel bad about it. You made it clear to anyone you talked to that nothing was serious. He was your favorite but you’d never tell him and there were no labels keeping you loyal to Cameron.

10 minutes had passed with no response.

That was weird.

Cam was always quick with his replies.

Another 10 minutes passed when you finally got a text.

‘Busy’

Busy?

He was never busy at this time of night and what could be doing that was more important than you.

The dry response threw you off.

He was bullshitting and you knew it. If that was his attempt at making you beg for him, he was mistaken. You never begged. And he wasn't going to change that for him.

“Wrong number” you replied with a quickness, before closing your phone, throwing it down on the couch.

You paced around your apartment unsure what to do. You were never this bothered when it came to someone. You had your fun and moved one, so why did his message bother you? 

You didn't care, you didn’t need him anyways, there was always someone else.

Deep down you knew you didn't want anyone else. Truth was you hadn’t messed with any other guys since you started “seeing” Cameron, if that is what you could even call your situation.

You might have entertained a few but that was the farthest it went. They weren't like Cameron, but you would never say that outloud and boost his ego.

You did anything to keep your mind off your phone, fluffing pillows, sweeping, going to the fridge just to close it because nothing looked good.

Your phone stayed where you left it, face down on the couch.

You didn't dare touch it. 

You weren't sure if you were more nervous for came's response or for the possibility that he was going to ignore it.

If he wasn't coming, he wasn't coming.

It was that simple.

Nothing to stress over.

Maybe you should call somebody else?

Just to prove a point. It's not like you didn't have their numbers in your phone.

Your eyes flickered to your phone but you didn't move. 

You didn't actually want to. That part, you ignored.

A knock hit the door, hard. Not polite or patient. Your head snapped in the direction of the sound. Your heart spiked a little as you made your way to the door. Pulling it open like it didn't matter.

Cameron stood there, jaw set, eyes already on you.

He didn't even let the air settle before he started.

“Fuck you mean wrong number.”

You stood in the doorway trying to seem as unfazed as possible.

“Oh it's you, I was expecting someone else.” you teased, knowing he was already pissed.

“Bullshit” he huffed, sliding past you into your apartment.

“You always have something slick to say.”

You let him pass, closing the door and leaning your back on it as you faced him. He didn't move past the entry way.

“Its the truth, I didn't expect you.” You were lying through your teeth.

“So I should go then?”

All you could muster was a shrug, you feared your voice would betray. You wanted him to stay, you weren't sure why it was so hard for you to say that.

Once he realized you were gonna keep the act up he nodded, “aight then so be it.” moving towards the door to leave.

You didn't move out his way.

“You gonna move or..?” He raised an eyebrow, his hand had reached for the handle next to your hip, sort of trapping you in his space.

“I-” You struggled to get the words out.

“Dont stutter now, I thought you were just all talk.” He said his voice just above a murmur.

You huffed out a frustrated sigh. “I don't see why we need to have a heart to heart Cameron.”

“Thats not what this is, this is about you going on about other niggas when you know they couldnt reach half the places I do.” He murmured, his breath ghosting your face as he closed the space between you.

“Just admit it and  ill stay, you just want me jealous, you know your not fucking with no one else.” he said, his lips ghosting yours, eyes locked.

“What are you trying to prove,” you huffed, halfway irritated at the topic but turned on by his closeness. “Who I fuck is none of your buisness.”

You knew you were bluffing but watching his face twitch trying to decipher whether you were serious or not was a bit entertaining.

“So I could fuck around and you just wouldnt care?” he questioned, stepping back to fully take your face in, his eyes bouncing around like he was trying to take in every movement your face made.

“Like you don't already,” you suck your teeth, “Do whatever you want, Cameron, I don't care.”

“Tell me to go then,” he urged, brows raised as he challenged your words. “You don't care? Tell me to go and I'll go.”

You paused for a moment. You could just keep lying but what would that do, you didn't want him to go honestly, but even trying to say that physically pained you. 

As long as he thought you didn't need him you had a sense of authority over the situation.

Maybe even him too.

He was just stripping all your walls down and you hated how you felt so free to do so with him. It was never like that when anyone else.

“Just say what you want to.” He pressed.

“You’re irritating.”

“And you still don't want me to leave.”

“I didn’t say that but sure, maybe…” you admitted, trying to keep the smile from creeping up on your face.

He stepped closer, gripping your sides as he pulled your body into his. Your hands instinctively came up his sides resting on his biceps. 

“I didn't hear you, one more time,” He fought a grin as he waited for you to repeat yourself.

“You heard me the first time.” you murmured avoiding his eyes, you hated how much he was enjoying this, almost as much as you hated how the words you wanted to say were stuck in your throat.

You exhaled quietly, your grip on his arms tightening just a little.

“Im not saying it.”

He nodded like he expected that. His eyes dropped to your lips.

“I’ll get it out of you, don't worry about it.” That was the last thing you heard from him before he was on you.

His lips attached to yours, he was rough taking what he wanted. It was unapologetic and it caught you off guard, You were always in control but that was quickly changing.

His grip stayed firm at your sides as  if he wasn't going to give you the option to slip away this time. 

You pushed back, kissing him just as hard, teeth grazed, breaths uneven, you refused to let him completely take over. It turned messy quick, a silent fight for dominance, neither of you were willing to let the other win.

Cam’s hand slid up your body to your jaw tilting your head up giving him better access, the kiss deepened, becoming slower and heavier. He became more deliberate, like he was done playing.

Your thoughts blurred, your senses were flooded with him, he was all you could feel or smell. Your attitude from earlier slipping completely through his fingers as you melted into him.

It bothered you how much of an effect he could have on you. You tried fighting it before but he was making it so hard.

Before you knew it you back was leaving the door and he was guiding you through your place as if it was his own, shredding each other's clothes with an urgency.

He was quick to bend your naked form over the arm of the couch. He pressed his clothed and aching length against you, His boxers the only thing blocking the two of you. His body unmoving , just letting you ache with anticipation.

“You're real quiet now.” He stated, his hands bracing your hips as he rubbed slowly. You whined moving your hips back trying to ease the pressure between your legs.

“Cameron,” You warned, there was no real bite behind it.

“What happened to all that shit you were talkin’?” He questioned, his hand sliding between your heat, fingers rubbing between your folds.

A quiet moan escaped your lips but was muffled by the couch cushion.

Just as the pleasure started to build, he pulled back. Causing you to let out a whine, All you could hear was him shuffling behind you.

“Cam I swear.” you started to fuss as you turned your head when you felt him press into you in one long stroke all the way to the hilt.

You tensed from the sudden intrusion before relaxing, a quiet sound slipping from your lips. He started moving, his strokes starting off slow and torturous. Cam allowed you to feel every inch of him you had been missing.

“Thought you wanted me gone?” he said, his voice gruff.

He picked up speed as he talked, You didn't reply the only sound coming from you were cries and moans as he angled himself so he hit the spot so deep inside you.

His hands rested on your lower back as he pressed down arching you just right.

“Said you were gonna replace me, what happened to that?” He continued as he plowed his way inside you.

When you didn't reply he stopped abruptly, you whined from the pause in stimulation your walls fluttering around him begging for more.

“I can't hear you?” He drawled.

“Please,” You whined trying to press back into him but his hold was unbreaking.

“You answer when I talk to you and I might let you get what you want” He huffed.

You were pissed he was using your words against you. You didn't think your pushing him around was going to catch up as quickly as it did. But you were willing to do anything to get him to keep going even if that meant telling him the truth.

“There's nobody else cam.”

“Who else was supposed to be here?” He pressed and he continued his quick thrusts,

“Nobody.” You whined.

“Yeah?” He murmured.

“You know who you belong to.” He stated his voice low, almost like he was speaking to himself.

“Who's it, huh?” The way he said it almost sounded desperate, you could tell he was getting close, both of your orgasms approaching. He tried to keep the edge in his tone but you knew he needed to hear you say it.

You hesitated but through your moans you answered.

“Yours.”

“Yeah baby it's mine.” He almost whined. He stroked almost wanting to falter. He could have came just from that but he pushed through, determined to get you there first.

Curses flew from both of you, the only other sounds filling the room were the connecting of skin and the wetness between you.

“Oh fuck im gonna cum cam please.” You babbled as you got closer to the edge. All you could do was hold onto the side of the couch as he relentlessly pounded into you.

“I got you baby, come on,” he said slowly.

Your release rushed over you with a heat, hitting you all at once. You clenched around him as he followed suit, spilling inside you. His strokes came to a halt as he rested his hand on your lower back as you both caught your breath.

He could tell you were spent, he helped you up, repositioned you guy so that you were on the couch in his lap. He covered you with a blanket as you rested on him, chest rising and falling in sync.

“You good?” He asked as his hands ran up and down your bare back.

You nodded with tired sound it wasn't quit a hum, you head resting on his shoulder.

He didn't even let the silence rest between you two before speaking.

“Wheres your phone?”

“Why?” You frowned.

“Every ‘nobody’ in there gotta go.”

“You’re so jealous.” you said despite leaning over to grab it from its spot discarded on your couch.

“I'm not jealous, just not gonna share.” he said definitely.

You scrolled through every old flame, He noticed the dates on them some two and three months ago.

“This is the competition you were talking about.” he scoffed.

“I had to keep you on your toes.” you shrugged a grin fighting its way to your face.

“You knew it was me, you just like playing games” he said, calling your bluff. 

“Myabe, maybe not,” you shrug, feigning nonchalance.

He stared at you for a second longer than necessary, almost like he was still deciding if you were serious or just being you.

Then he grabbed your phone and tossed it to the side.

“You’re impossible” He murmured as he closed his arms around your waist pulling you flush to his chest.

“And you're still here.” You said finally, as your lips connected with his. All the tension from earlier softened, into something quieter.