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“What’s your problem with her anyways? Everyone else likes her,” Topper rolls his eyes at Rafe’s testy nature anytime your name gets brought into conversation. He can be ill-tempered and downright crabby as it is, but he takes it to a whole new level whenever he hears your name – the thought of your aggravating cheerfulness and upbeat nature practically grates on him. 

“I don’t know how you guys can stand all that squealing, anyone can hear her from a mile away.” He shakes his head, leaning back in his seat with a sigh of exhaustion. Knowing that he’ll have to sit through an evening trying not to groan at your beaming smile, both from annoyance and jealousy, as well as sexual frustration. You’re beyond adorable, something that he also can’t stand about you. Along with that toothy, bright smile, it's a task just to get through the night without a noticeable hard on. Its a wonder that you haven’t spotted him readjusting himself as you speak to him, excitement laced in your tone as you tell him about one of your many hobbies – hobbies, you have actual hobbies, unlike him. God, you’re something else entirely. 

“She’s a nice girl, Rafe.” He throws his hands in the air, mirroring Rafe as he leans back in his seat. 

“I know, she’s too fucking nice.” Rafe shakes his head, groaning at the thought of the niceness that he refers to. You’re practically his polar opposite and the thought unnerves him – why is he so attracted to that? Why is he so drawn to something so completely contradictory to himself?

“You’re weird, man.” Topper laughs with bemusement at his friend, shaking his head at how completely bizarre he is. 

“She’s insufferable, Top, and now I’m going to have to sit through a whole evening of her fucking giggling when this was supposed to be a night with just the guys, relaxing with a few beers.” He grabs the beer in front of him for emphasis, cold condensation leaking down his arm, cooling him. 

“Okay, first of all, Kelce is bringing a lady, which means all her friends will be here too. Along with Kody and Ash’s flavor of the month, so shut up. I’m not fucking stupid either, man - you can’t stand to be around her cause you think she’s hot, but too happy and innocent for the big bad Rafe Cameron… am I right?” Partially, Rafe admitted to himself. 

“No, she’s just fucking obnoxious, and you know she’d probably cry with those big fucking wide, creepy eyes if she heard me say that, I’m not into that.” Topper laughs, shaking his head. 

“I know you better than that, man. You’re secretly into those “big, wide, creepy eyes”.” He teases, gesturing to his own eyes as he spots you making your way through the crowd with a pleasant but shy smile on your face, following a group of girls. 

“Fuck me,” he groans under his breath, already hardening as he spots you in one of those fucking sundresses you’re always in. This - this is why he can’t stand to be around you, he’s painfully hard already.  

Rafe stands, turning his pelvis toward the booth to avoid anyone seeing his not so little dilemma that you caused just by walking into the damn place as he lets everyone slide past him into the booth. His night is already going to shit, as you’re the last one to enter the booth, offering him a smile as you slide past him. He takes a seat next to you, giving Topper a death glare until he hears your sweet voice in his ear. 

“How are you, Rafe? It’s been a little bit,” you place your elbows on the table and turn, those sweet eyes staring back at him. Fuck. 

“Been better,” he pops a fry into his mouth, refusing to stare at you too long because then he’ll start thinking about you on your knees, saying his name all soft and breathy before your eyes widen as you take him into your mou- fuck. He shifts in his seat, trying his best to conceal the aching between his legs and the lack of blood flow toward his brain as he shoots another glare toward Topper, who returns it in spite of Rafe’s rudeness toward you. 

“I think that’s what you said last time I saw you, too.” You giggle, the upturn of your lips the most beautiful thing Rafe has seen as he steals a glance. 

“How’s Sarah and Wheezie?” That’s another thing that Rafe hates about you – your fucking ability to know everybody and everybody know and love you because you’re so fucking sweet and affectionate to the point of his family secretly hoping that he’ll give into his apparent interest in you, that he so desperately tries to deny. Even his dad likes you and the idea of Rafe liking you even more. You’re so nice, so sweet that you even ask about his family like you’ve known them as long as he has. 

“I’m sure they’re doing just fine,” he grumbles back, trying not to notice the way that your dress dips lower when you hold your wrist and push your arms together when you get nervous. 

“Well, that’s good to hear.” Here you are, still smiling back at him with encouragement, even when he acts like a fucking dick, responding with the bare minimum. 

“Is Sarah still with John B?” You stare back hopefully and his chest nearly caves at the sight. You’re probably well aware that Sarah is at John B’s side all hours of the day, that they’re very much still together too, you’re just being nice, trying to make small talk – and it makes him reel with discomfort.

“Unfortunately,” Rafe bites back and your smile only falters momentarily before you’re right back at it. How do you do it?

“You don’t like John B? He seems like a nice guy,” you shrug, probably very unaware of Rafe’s innate urge to dislike almost everyone and everything around him and especially pogues. Or maybe you do, but you still look for the best in everyone, in him – just another reason he’s rock hard and trying to convince himself he can’t stand you. “I’m sure if your sister likes him, he’s a nice guy.” You add, almost reassuring him that there’s nothing to worry about. 

“If my sister likes him, that means he’s definitely not a nice guy.” You laugh as if he told the funniest joke, shaking your head at him, clearly not taking him seriously when he is in fact dead serious. 

“What’s so bad about him then?” You give him a closed lip smile just as the waiter comes around with another round of fries, staring at you a little too long for Rafe’s liking. You pop a fry into your mouth and even the way you eat is cute, everything you do is cute. 

“Well, first of all… he’s a pogue.” Rafe says, like that should be reason enough, because for him it is. But aside from that, he likes to believe that he has many sound reasons for disliking John Booker Routledge. 

“Oh, as if that matters.” You playfully roll your eyes, but Rafe likes the idea of you arguing with him… parting from your innocent little ploy for just a moment to disagree with him, even if it is semi-teasing. 

“Oh, so you’re into pogues?” There’s a tightness in Rafe’s tone that doesn’t go unheard by Topper or a few of the other nosy peers that sit around the two opposites. 

“I guess I could be,” you say with a light shrug and a smile, just to prove that they’re as good as anybody else at the table, because that’s the kind of person that you are – empathetic and always feeling guilty when you haven’t even said anything that would hurt anyone’s feelings, because you would never – but just the thought of condoning it seems to get under your skin. “I mean, why couldn’t I be?” You shake your head with the slightest of scowls, but just like that, your lighthearted aura returns, infecting Rafe even when he tries his hardest to deny it. Truthfully, the only person you’re into is Rafe, but you would neve reveal that in a million years. You’ll take that long-standing crush to the grave, simply because you’ve convinced yourself that he could never be into you – inexperienced, fragile, bubbly, all of the things that he claims to hate.

Rafe leans in, ready to get under your skin even more than he already has, just for fun. Because now that he knows how, he can’t seem to help himself. 

“You’d fuck a pogue then, huh?” You bite your lip, eyes widening at his words. You don’t have the gall to turn and stare at him with those wide eyes either and instead stare forward at the basket of fries in front of you. He likes to see you squirm, far more than he thought he would too. 

The waiter returns, ready to take your order before you’re able to recompose yourself. You stammer back at him, glancing down at the menu once more with flushed cheeks and mouth hanging slightly agape in embarrassment. Rafe loves the tinge of your cheeks and how flustered you appear. He can tell he’s not the only one appreciating the sight though, as he looks back at the waiter to find him just as enthralled by the sight, noting the same dip in your dress that Rafe had. 

“Just get her the fish tacos,” he grabs the menu out from under you, bringing your attention back to him as he hands it over to the waiter with a little extra force – his way of staking his claim. You can’t help but note that it’s the same thing you’ve gotten every single time you’ve come with them, it’s your favorite, and it can’t just be a coincidence that he happened to order it for you. Maybe he was just extremely detail-oriented. 

Topper shakes his head yet again from the opposite side of the table, eyeing Rafe who isn’t too pleased to have anyone taking note of how truly obsessed he is, trying his best to pretend that he can’t stand to be seated next to you – when in actuality, he’s fighting off the urge to breathe in your scent enough to never be able to forget it again. You ignore the looks from the other girls at the table, especially the ones of jealousy that make you want to curl into yourself. 

Rafe’s arm is placed over the back of your space in the booth, not touching you, but enough for you to feel the warmth of his body closer… practically able to imagine just how firm his chest would feel pressed against you and how nicely his arms would feel wrapped around you. Everyone else seems to notice too, eyes snapping to where Rafe’s hand lay lazily off the back of the booth by your hair, almost grazing it. 

“Y/n, Rafe’s taking everyone else out on the boat tomorrow, why don’t you join us?” Topper takes things into his own hands, seeing how badly his friend wants this, but too stubborn to actually let himself give in. 

“I am?” Rafe says at the same time that you answer, “I’d love to”. You try not to be embarrassed at the different responses that the two of you give, being so ready and willing to spend more time with him. You glance at Rafe, who’s already looking at you. You shrug back with a small smile, trying not to embarrass yourself any further. 

“I love a good boat ride,” you bite your lip, embarrassed by the words as soon as they leave your lips. You love a good boat ride? What was that?

“Yeah, I’m sure you do.” His words don’t help, only adding to the humiliation. “Bet one of the pogues would be willing to give you a good ride too, if you ask nicely.” He says under his breath, for only you to hear. 

“And if I ask nicely enough, would you?” You’re unaware that the words have even actually left you in a low whisper until Rafe’s eyes snap to yours and you only stare back horrified. He seems to have a similar reaction, riddled with shock, and you’re unsure whether he’s confused, disgusted, or slightly amused. You’re sure that you’re reading him wrong as you even see a tinge of delight pass over his features. There’s too much going on to even try to guess. 

“Oh, baby… you don’t want that.” He shakes his head in amusement and the sound of him calling you baby has your back straightening and a shiver crawling down your spine. What shocks you, is the silent implication that he’s… willing? That it’s you who wouldn’t want it, or maybe be able to handle it, you’re unsure. 

“What do you mean by that? You think I can’t handle it?” That hidden bite of sass returns to your voice as you whisper back at him, trying to avoid having your secrecy noticed by everyone at the table because that would surely make for some awkward glances. You stay seated forward, but Rafe has somehow leaned even further toward you, to the point that his lips are almost brushing your ear and his bicep brushes against the back of your head. It takes immense restraint that you’re not sure you contain not to lean right back into him and soak in the feeling of his body pressed to yours, even if it is in a restaurant, surrounded by other people. 

“I know you can’t,” he’s finding it hard to keep his breathing even and his tone not overly husky and desperate. He doesn’t want you to see how much the prospect of you thinking about “taking a ride” with him really affects him. 

“How do you know what I can and can’t handle?” You sound offended, but just as desperate for the conversation to continue as he is. He spots Topper eyeing him but it isn’t enough to have him pulling back from you this time, this conversation is far too interesting. 

“I know your type,” he rebuttals, his other hand innocently playing with the bottom of your linen sundress, toying with the fabric as if he wants you to picture his hands as he feels the fabric off your body. 

“And what’s my type?” He’s practically breathing down your neck, towering over you while everyone else at the table tries to ignore the way that he hovers over you, looking down at you like he burns for you – yearning. And there you sit, assuming he’s teasing just to push your buttons, doubt you as a woman, and keep up with his hard exterior. You can’t see the way that stares at you like you’re an itch he desperately needs to scratch like everyone else can. Tonight has certainly taken an interesting turn of events and Rafe’s faltering front makes for great entertainment. 

“All sunshine and rainbows… pure and… what’s the word - virginal? Self-denying? Chaste? Take your pick, princess.” He repeats the words like he’s memorized every single way to accuse you of being a prude without actually saying it. You want to growl back, but it's very unlike you. Instead, you settle for biting your lip and glaring down at the table. You haven’t allowed yourself to get this worked up, this angry… in a long, long while, probably since you were a kid with minimal emotional regulation. Now, it's almost embarrassing how easily you allow him to irk you. 

“Been waiting to pull that one out?” You bite the words out, somewhere between aroused, angry, and fighting tears of embarrassment. 

“I’d be lying if I said I haven’t been waiting to tell you exactly what I see when I look at you… an innocent, prudish little thing.” You whip your eyes to his, done staring at the table. Topper is unsure whether or not to intervene, unsure of exactly what Rafe had said, but knowing that if it got to you, it must have been bad. 

“I’m no prude… I have desires that I’m not afraid to own up to, or deny myself of.” Rafe lifts a brow in amusement, quite curious to know exactly what desires riddle that little body of yours and exactly how you allow yourself to give into them – he can’t imagine what that must look like, you writhing, sheened with sweat, and squirming for someone’s touch alone in bed at night, only able to sate your needs with your own fingers and surely, being ashamed of it afterward. But you make it seem like that isn’t the case, as if you truly are a naughty little thing when no one’s around, unashamed and unabashed, proudly writhing in the sheets with wanton moans filling your bedroom, chest raised with an arched back, and nipples at a peak as you tweak them without a second thought – proud and brazen as you reach your high. He doesn’t even notice that he’s staring back at you with hazy eyes, completely giving himself away… not only to you, but the whole table as they watch the interaction in shock, maybe just as embarrassed as he is to be watching, enthralled and waiting to see what happens next. 

“I don’t think I can trust your word for it, princess. That’s simply… inconceivable, that an innocent little thing like you is secretly a freak,” he whispers the words in your ear so no one else can hear them, knowing you’d be far too embarrassed if any of this conversation was ever repeated. Your friends had never seen you flirting so boldly, letting a guy hover over you, clearly wanting you.  

“But it surely is a nice thought,” he adds, smirking. He has to admit, you’ve swept his bad mood right under the table and all that remains is a desperation that Rafe can no longer deny. All he wants now is to tease you, see you squirm even more. 

You cough, taking note of your surroundings and how close Rafe now remains, and how silent the table is at the sexual tension that sits heavy in the air around the two of you. 

You go to resituate yourself, in hopes of facing forward instead of leaning into him like you have no self control. In a daze of horny thoughts and embarrassment, you don’t realize where your hand lands as you make a move to situate yourself head on. Rafe stiffens as your hand makes contact with his aching, throbbing member, so hard that he can barely contain it. You make a small noise of surprise, eyes widening, which only has everyone at the table straightening in discomfort and shock. The whole table sits in silence, your hand still placed on Rafe out of embarrassment and surprise. He fights back a groan and the urge to buck his hips just to relieve himself even a little bit. 

Your hand slowly retracts with a nervous gulp, Kelce sitting only two places away and eyeing where your hand withdraws from with an almost sympathetic look toward Rafe, if it weren’t for how lucky he was sure his friend was going to be in a few hours. He was almost excited for Rafe, nearly choking on the tension in the air as the two of you had been clearly pining after each other for far too long, now amounting to this. 

“We’ll see you all tomorrow,” Rafe bites out, despite his friends and everyone at the table knowing exactly what is about to happen as he pulls you by your wrist away from the table, before your food can even arrive. 

A chorus of ‘see ya’s’ follows and then the table erupts in laughter, but neither of you care enough to grow embarrassed. Rafe can barely walk without waddling with his stiff member he so desperately tries to conceal, pulling you in front of him and placing you right against him. He fights back another groan, pushing himself into you and picturing exactly how jarred he’s sure your expression is right now. 

You’re out of the door before you can even protest, although you’re far past that. He takes you to his truck and you let him, eyeing the apparent conundrum that stands tall and proud in his shorts, poking you as he opens the door and buckles you in. 

“What are we doing?” You speak up, almost hesitantly as he begins to drive. His eyes flick from your to the road as he leans back in his chair, unable to do anything but with how painfully hard he is. He winces with each movement, hips squirming as he tries to ease the ache. You turn toward him, unable to keep your eyes off of it. 

“What are we doing? You want to know what we’re doing? Look at me, baby… look what you did to me,” he shakes his head in disbelief. “I’m fucking aching – you just sat there and teased me for nearly thirty minutes, convincing me of just how naughty and what was the word - desiring, you are, contrary to my beliefs, and now you’re going to show me exactly how fucking filthy you can really be.” He demands, and you swear you’ve never heard anything so hot in your whole life. If you weren’t already soaking your panties, you are now, and there’s no denying it as you rub your thighs together to relieve the tingling sensation that overwhelms you. 

“Don’t get fucking shy on me now,” he practically demands, a hint of a whine present. 

You turn, bottom lip taken between your teeth, swollen from all of the attention it's received out of your pressing nervousness throughout Rafe’s teasing. You don’t let yourself think, forcing the thoughts of doubt away as you reach for your seatbelt, unbuckling yourself and brazenly taking him in your hand, palming him. A choked, desperate groan leaves his lips, parting deliciously to let the sound escape as his throat bobs and chest rises and falls. Your fingers do quick work unbuttoning, unzipping, and releasing him from the confines of his shorts. The release alone is enough to have his hips bucking once more and another throaty groan of approval leaving his lips. 

“Fuck, you’re so big… I don’t know if it’ll fit, Rafe.” You add, just to get him worked up, teasing and uncharacteristically cruel as you slowly begin working a hand up and down his length, focusing on the head. 

“I need - fuck, need your mouth.” The sound of him desperate for you is a confidence booster and a high that you’ve never experienced before. So unlike you and Rafe’s usual nature that it almost has you laughing. Rafe… begging for your mouth, while you tease him, it’s almost unbelievable. 

You hum, taking your time ignoring his request and continuing to tease him until he has to ask again, even more desperate. He got himself in this situation – hard and aching for a release before you had even touched him. It’s so unlike him, but he doesn’t have the energy to be ashamed. 

“Don’t tease… be nice, princess.” He almost growls out, but still aware that he’s the one having to beg and plead for you right now. You bring your lips to him, circling the head lightly, but it isn’t enough, and when his hips buck up, you pull back. It’s a sweet remedy for his relentless teasing and humiliation earlier – virginal, self-denying, chaste... 

“Keep in mind I won’t be so kind when it comes time for you to do the begging, baby. And trust me, I bet you beg so pretty, been thinking about it so long, I’m tempted to do it all night… that is, if you don’t wrap those pretty lips around me and -” you cut him off, taking him into your throat as he shouts, pulling your hair at the overwhelming pleasure that has him jumping in his seat, trying his best not to press on the gas with too much force. 

“Just like that,” he pants, breathless, and the sound is so delicious and erotic that you find yourself moaning around his length as you work the rest of him with your hand. 

“Fuck! Take me deep baby, just like that.” He encourages, sloppily guiding your head with a makeshift ponytail. 

Rafe’s thumb brushes over your lips stretched around his length, “God, I’ve thought about these lips around me for so long… look at me so I can see how pretty you look drooling all over my cock.” You do exactly as he says, looking up at him, lashes batting for him.

Your hands itch to relieve your own aching need nestled between your thighs, desperate for a release as you feel yourself clench and tighten around nothing. You don’t bother denying yourself the pleasure, telling yourself you’ve done it practically all night and you deserve the liberation. 

Rafe flips your dress up over your ass, practically reading your mind as you begin to toy with your clit under your soaked panties. He lands a harsh slap to your ass that has something between a moan and a shriek leaving your lips, wrapped around his length. The vibrations have him pulling you off of him, afraid of coating your throat with his seed when he’d rather cum deep inside of you. 

He pants, slowly pumping himself as he throws his head back, trying his best to concentrate on the road ahead of him. “Show me how you touch yourself, baby… show me all the ways you don’t deny yourself, like you said. I don’t fucking believe you, so prove it to me.” 

The combination of his words and your fingers coated with slick circling your clit being almost too much for you to handle. Whimpering whines leave your lips and you bite your lip to try to cease the desperate noises, but Rafe doesn’t seem to appreciate it. He reaches forward, releasing your lip with his thumb and gripping your chin, tilting it up as he glances over between keeping his eyes on the road ahead of him. “I need to see you touch yourself, y/n… I can’t get the images out of my mind, baby. Let me see,” Rafe was truly impressed and shocked as you confidently tweaked your nipple and began grinding your soaked cunt against your fingers, clearly aching for a release. 

“That’s right, make yourself cum for me.” Rafe thought back to how the night started… trying to convince Top that he wanted nothing to do with you. He wished he could take the words back out of guilt now as he watched you, the prettiest, most erotic little thing getting yourself off to his words as he praised you, pushing you closer and closer to your orgasm by the second. 

“I can’t fucking do this anymore,” Rafe grumbled, reaching a breaking point as he pulled off to the nearest side road and slammed the truck into park, a screeching sound following that he would probably cringe at were it not for the way you were whimpering for him. Your back arches and before he can even get his hands on you, you’re cumming with a breathless moan, squeezing your eyes closed and cumming with a sobbing sound that has him breathless and leaking pre-cum. He’s never heard a sound like it – he’s had plenty of girls in this exact position, quite shamelessly, but never had he heard a sound like that one. Perfectly desperate and fragmented, broken and trembling just for him. 

“You’re gonna drive me mad, I already know it.” You weren’t sure exactly what it meant and didn’t have much time to think about it as Rafe pulled you into his lip, positioned himself at your entrance and prepared to push into you until he realized exactly who sat on his lap with her cute little sundress bunched up to her hips. 

"Take what you want," you're panting, chest rising and falling, leaning forward and taking Rafe's lip between your teeth, an erotic groan leaving you as you suck on the flesh.

“Fuck- wait, baby. Are you a virgin?” He spoke desperately, as if the answer would determine whether or not he would give it to you. 

Before you could answer though, a loud knock on the window interrupted the two of you and you let out a scream. To your horror, Sheriff Victor Shouppe stares back, unimpressed. 

You let your bunched sundress fall as soon as Rafe questioned your virginity, concealing both you and Rafe’s most intimate parts, which he’s thankful for now that the Sheriff is knocking on his window. He rolls down the window, already expecting the public indecency charge that his dad is going to have to sweep under the rug for the both of you once he realizes what the two of you were doing. 

“Oh god,” you murmur and Rafe feels much the same right now. 

“Do I need to ask what the hell you’re doing in this car right now, y/n?” Rafe’s brows furrow at the overly familiar way that he speaks to you. 

“Uncle Shouppe, I-” As if this couldn’t have gotten any worse, Shouppe is your fucking uncle. How did he not know that? 

“Do you know what would have happened if anyone else had found the two of you here?” He shakes his head. “With Rafe Cameron of all people?” Rafe tries not to be too offended, recalling his family's history with the sheriff. 

“He’s my friend,” you speak quietly, tears beginning to pool in your eyes. Rafe scolds himself for wanting to pull you into his arms and whisper sweet nothings in your ear, because he shouldn’t want that. He should have never put you in this situation either. 

Rafe prays that the skirt of your dress continues to conceal the both of you and that Shouppe doesn’t shine that bright fucking light onto the passenger floor where your panties lay. 

“I think he’s more than your friend, y/n.” You look so pitiful, big eyes staring back at your uncle full of tears. Much like Rafe, he can barely stand to see his niece cry. 

“I know you’re an adult, you can make your own decisions now, but if I catch you making out like some horny teenager with Rafe Cameron on the side of the road again, I’m takin’ it to your dad.” the two of you practically breathe out sighs of relief together… making out. If only he knew his niece was soaking his cock with her previous orgasm. 

“Got it, Uncle Shouppe, won’t happen again… I promise.” You look back at him meaningfully, showing him that you’re sorry and trying not to think about how your bare sex is touching Rafe’s. 

"You bet your ass it's not gonna happen again, gather yourself and get in the car, I'm taking you home." You cringe, waiting to hear his retreating footsteps before embarrassingly retreating to the passenger seat with a cringe.

Rafe tucks himself back into his shorts, still rock hard despite the verbal lashing to two of you just received -- he's still thinking about the moment he finally gets to be nestled into your warmth. You pull your panties on, making sure that your uncle can't see what you're doing.

Before you can retreat to the patrol car parked behind the two of you, praying to never see Rafe again, he stops you with a hand around your throat. "I expect to see you tomorrow and next time, I don't want you wearing these." He snaps your waistband and if it weren't for the sound of an impatient honk making you jump, you would've kissed him until you were breathless.

"Good luck," he smirked, softly pinching your lips and laying a quick peck to them just as you hopped out of the truck, trying your best to keep your sundress from flipping up. He smirked, shaking his head as he watched you slink back in humiliation... so worth it.

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