🂱

The front door flew open harder than it needed to. Annie stepped inside, her heels hitting the floor sharp and fast, her purse barely hanging onto her shoulder as she pushed the door shut behind her.

Marcus and her grandmother both looked up from where they were sitting.

“What happened?” Marcus asked, halfway up from his seat just off the energy alone.

Annie didn’t even slow down.

“All men are the same,” she snapped, tossing her purse down on the nearest chair without looking. “All of 'em.”

Her grandmother’s eyes narrowed slightly, watching her closely.

Marcus frowned. “What you mean? What happened—”

“They all want the same thing,” Annie kept going, pacing now, her hands moving as she talked. “That’s it. That’s all it ever is. And when you don’t give it to them, suddenly it’s a problem.”

Marcus’s expression hardened instantly. “It's a problem for who? Elijah?”

Annie let out a frustrated sound. “Yes, Elijah. Who else?”

“What he do?” Marcus asked, stepping closer. “Where he at?”

But Annie wasn’t really focused on answering his questions.

She was upset and talking quick. Frustration spilling out faster than she could control.

“I’m not ready for that,” she continued, her voice tight.

Marcus’s jaw clenched. “What he say to you? Where he live at? Do I need to talk to him?”

He was ready to act on whatever version of the story he was building in his head.

“Marcus,” his mother’s voice cut in.

He paused, looking back at her.

“Sit down,” she said firmly.

“He—Ma, you hear what she saying?” Marcus pushed.

“I hear her,” she replied, her eyes still on Annie. “And I hear what she not saying too.”

Marcus frowned. “What that mean?”

“It mean you hush up,” she said simply.

Marcus let out a frustrated breath but didn’t move again.

Annie barely noticed either of them at this point. She was still pacing and talking, her words running together now.

“They just think because they nice to you or say a few sweet things that you supposed to give them whatever they want,” she said, shaking her head. “And I’m not doing that. I’m just not.”

Her grandmother watched her carefully, catching the little things. Annie was speaking vaguely, her voice shifting in tone when she said certain things. There was a lot more there, but she let her talk.

Annie abruptly grabbed her purse and turned toward the stairs.

“I’m done with it,” she muttered, more to herself than them.

“Annie—” Marcus started.

But she was already headed up the stairs. Her steps were heavy and her voice could be heard as she moved down the hall, words muffled but still full of frustration. Then her bedroom door slammed shut.

Annie leaned back against the closed door, her chest rising and falling as everything from anger to confusion to embarrassment caught up to her now that it was quiet.

She pushed off the door and moved toward her bed, sitting down before laying back to stare up at the ceiling. Her mind replayed the good and the bad of the night.

She turned onto her side, pulling the covers over herself even though she wasn’t cold.

But things didn’t end when Annie closed her eyes. All of those feelings just carried over to Sunday morning.

Annie woke up irritated and moved through the house with a heaviness to her steps. Her responses were short and her patience thin.

And her grandmother wasn't with it.

“Fix your face,” she muttered the first time Annie sucked her teeth too loud in the kitchen.

But Annie didn’t.

And at church, it only got worse.

Annie sat stiff in the pew with her arms crossed and her responses were flat and dry when someone tried to greet her.

Her grandmother didn’t even warn her, she just gave her a quick hit to her arm.

Annie huffed under her breath, but a few minutes later she went right back to muttering and rolling her eyes.

After church, they stopped by the grocery store and usually, Annie would be talking and laughing with people they ran into or helping pick things out, but not today.

Today, she walked beside the cart like she didn’t want to be there, answering questions with one-word responses, and barely acknowledging anyone who spoke to her.

“Hey Annie, how you been?”

“I’m good.”

And she kept walking.

Her grandmother side-eyed her more than once but didn’t say anything.

When they got home that afternoon, Annie still hadn’t shaken it. If anything, it had only gotten worse. So when there was a knock on the door that evening, she wasn't in the mood.

Annie got to the door pulling it open just enough to step outside and close it behind her.

Her friends stood there with curious looks on their faces.

“Well?” Monica started immediately. “How was—”

“It wasn’t,” Annie cut in.

Michelle blinked. “What do you mean it wasn’t—”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Annie said, her tone sharp, final. “And I don’t want company right now, so y’all can just go.”

The three of them stared at her completely confused.

“Annie, what is wrong with you?” Lillian asked slowly.

“Nothing's wrong. I just don't want company,” Annie snapped.

Michelle stepped forward slightly. “We just tryin' to check on you—”

“I didn’t ask you to,” Annie shot back.

Now they were looking at her like they didn’t recognize her.

“Okay, now you going a little too far. All we was tryin' to do was check and see how your date with Elijah went,” Monica said, crossing her arms.

“And I said I don’t want to talk about it!” Annie raised her voice, frustration spilling over.

An interesting silence fell between them, because Annie didn’t get like this ever.

“Why you actin' like this?” Michelle asked softly.

Annie shook her head. “Y’all need to just leave me alone.”

Before anything else could be said the front door swung open behind her.

“Annie!” Her grandmother’s voice boomed onto the street.

“Get your ass in this house.”

Annie braced herself as she stepped toward the door. And as she passed by, a hard hit landed against her arm.

Annie flinched, the sting was immediate as she looked back. “Mama—!”

“You know better than this,” her grandmother snapped. “Walking around here with that nasty attitude ‘cause you couldn’t get your coochie squeezed.”

Annie’s face burned in embarrassment instantly.

Her friends looked on in shock before laughing at how ridiculous the older woman could be.

“Get in the house,” her grandmother repeated, not budging.

Annie shot them one last irritated and embarrassed glare, before turning and storming inside.

Her grandmother stepped out just enough to face the girls, her expression softening slightly.

“Y’all come back another time,” she said. “She’ll be alright.”

They nodded, still laughing a little as they started backing away.

“Alright, Ms. Richard. We’ll check on her later!”

She waved them off before closing the door.

When she looked around, she saw that Annie was halfway across the living room.

“Sit down,” her grandmother said.

Annie paused and turned around. “For what?”

Her grandmother gave her a look that said she wasn't playing.

“Sit down, now. And I ain't gone say it again”

Annie let out a quiet, frustrated breath, but she sat. Because she knew she wasn’t getting out of this talk.

When Monday came and Annie still hadn't called, Elijah felt disrupted. He tried to focus on work, but his mind was completely on her.

Things at the shop started slowing down, so Ray let some of them go home a bit earlier. Elijah knew sitting around wasn’t going to fix anything, so he decided to do something about his mind.

Later that afternoon, he stood on Annie’s porch with a small bouquet of flowers in one hand and a folded note in the other. He knocked on the door and waited.

He knew she wouldn’t be there because she was still at the school, but that was the point. He wasn’t ready for another face-to-face like that yet.

After a minute, the door opened and Ms. Annette stood there looking him up and down.

“Well,” she said, stepping back. “Come on in.”

Elijah nodded respectfully then stepped inside. “Yes ma’am.”

She closed the door behind him, turning to face him properly now.

“What you here for?” she asked, arms folding loosely across her chest.

Elijah held the flowers a little tighter. “I came to apologize to Annie.”

Her expression didn’t change much.

“She at work,” she said.

“I know. That's why I wans't gonna stay. I was just gonna leave these for her,” he replied.

Annette watched him for a little longer like she was searching for something. Then she huffed softly, and pointed up the stairs.

“Her room is upstairs. It's the last door on the right,” she said.

Elijah nodded. “Thank you.”

The stairs creaked lightly under his steps as he made his way up. He reached the hallway and walked down it until he reached the right door. He pushed it open gently and stepped inside.

Her room looked soft and put together. There were little things everywhere. Books stacked neatly on a table. A folded blanket at the end of her bed. He noticed the warm colors and the details. There were little things that made him think of conversations they’d had. It all looked exactly how he expected her room to look.

He walked over to the desk, set the flowers down carefully, and placed the note beside them.

Elijah turned and headed back toward the door, careful not to touch anything else on his way out. He pulled the door closed behind him and made his way back downstairs.

He reached the bottom step and headed toward the front door, ready to just slip out.

“Elijah, come help me with these peas.”

He stopped.

Her grandmother’s voice came from deeper in the house.

He turned slightly, following the sound toward the kitchen.

When he stepped in, he saw her seated at the table with a large bowl in the middle. Brown paper bags of green beans were side by side around the bowl. Her hands were moving quickly, snapping and pulling some of the beans without her even looking down.

She pointed to the chair across from her. "Sit."

Elijah did as he was told. He pulled the chair out and sat down, picking up a handful of beans slowly, like he wasn’t fully sure what to do. He watched her for a second before mimicking the way she snapped the ends and pulled the strings down.

The kitchen filled with a quiet rhythm for a while.

“Elijah,” she said, not looking up. “Why are you here?”

He paused slightly, glancing up at her.

“I brought those flowers for Annie to apo—”

“No. Why are you here in Baltimore?” She cut him off.

He frowned a little confused as he tried to follow what she was asking.

“I told you. I came to get help,” he said slowly.

She made a small disapproving sound under her breath. Then looked up at him.

“I ain’t no fool and you ain't gone make me out to be one,” she said plainly. “Cousin Charlie done already told me. So you need to get to talkin',” she added.

He looked at her as he realized this wasn’t going to be just a casual conversation. His hands started moving slowly now like he was trying to control them before they started trembling. He took one deep breath, then another.

“When I was overseas, it was hard to survive” he started quietly. “I had been fighting for so long it felt like that’s all I was doing.”

His eyes dropped to his hands as he worked, the motion steady but slower than before.

“Every night I had these real bad nightmares. I couldn't sleep no matter how tired I was. My mind wouldn't shut off,” he continued.

Annette stayed quiet, giving him space to say his truth.

“I remember one night I went outside,” he said. “Figured if I wore myself out enough, maybe I’d sleep right. But I ain’t make it back in. I just fell asleep out there. And I had this dream.”

He let out a quiet breath.

“It was the best one I ever had," he said. "At first, I ain't know what I was looking at. I just remember she was standing in a kitchen. I really couldn't see much, but I knew she was beautiful. And after that, they ain’t stop.”

He shook his head faintly.

“I got discharged after I got hurt,” he added. “And I couldn’t just let it go. I went from Chicago to Mississippi to Louisiana lokiing for her. I was out there searching day and night. I didn't know her name, I just knew what I saw.”

He let out a breath through his nose.

“When I was in Louisiana, I met Charlie and he told me about Twigs. He said if I was gonna find her she'd be up here. So I came.”

Mama Nette didn’t look surprised by the statement.

“Well, I'm glad my root worked,” she said, dropping another snapped bean into the bowl, “Almost thought I had lost my touch.”

Elijah’s hands stopped completely and looked up at her like he misheard.

“…Your root?” he repeated slowly. “You one of them witches?!”

She sucked her teeth loud, not even looking up this time.

“I ain’t no witch,” she said flatly. “And you keep working.”

Elijah blinked, staring at her. His mind was trying to catch up to what she just said. But he slowly picked the beans back up.

“How you doing magic then go sit up in church every Sunday? I thought you was Christian?,” he shook his head a little as he went back to snapping.

She let out a laught that made his frown deeper.

“Boy, you think ’cause I go to church I can’t work a root?” she asked while looking up at him again.

He didn’t answer right away. Because, yeah, that’s exactly what he thought.

She shook her head, amused.

“I’m from the South where folks in church been doing rootwork all their lives. Some know it, some don’t. It get passed down the same way anything else do. It's in us."

Elijah looked down at his hands again, trying to make sense of it all.

“So, just like that you sent me a dream?” he asked.

“Ain’t just like that,” she said. “It took some time.”

He exhaled through his nose. After a second, he glanced up again.

“Does Annie do it?” he asked curiously.

Because in all the time he’d known her, he’d never seen her do anything like that.

“She know some things, but not much. She ain't had the time to really learn,” she said. And I think you and that church been filling her head up.”

Elijah frowned at that.

“What you mean?”

“She wasn’t this locked up back home,” Mama Nette said plainly.

Elijah looked down, his mind moving through everything she was saying. He thought about the way Annie carried herself. And for the first time he wondered how much of that wasn't just her.

Elijah sat there for a moment, turning her words over in his head, his fingers slowing again against the beans.

“…So is that why Annie’s a—”

He stopped himself. It felt wrong to say it out loud. Like it wasn’t his place to put a word on her like that, even though it had already been said between them.

“Annie a what? A virgin?” she asked.

Elijah shifted slightly in his seat, but she didn’t give him time to get uncomfortable with it.

“You can say it to me,” she added, then went right back to her work. “But no. That ain’t it. She love church, but not for what you thinking. It’s a place she can go to spread her wings and love on people the way she meant to. Church ain’t nothing more than a building where folks come together and build community. That’s all it ever been to me, so that's what I taught her.”

She glanced up at him briefly.

“Besides we ain’t never went to one of them strict churches that make you dress and act a certain way to keep an appearance. You supposed to lead with love because that’s who you are. That’s who she is." she added.

Elijah listened quietly. He looked down at his hands, then back up at her.

“Then do you know why she is?” he asked. This time, his voice was more careful.

Annette’s hands stilled, but only for a second. A small heavy smile touched her face. She looked up at him like she was deciding how much to say and how much he deserved to hear.

Mama Nette held his gaze for a moment longer, then asked, calm as ever, “Elijah, how old are you?”

“Almost 27 now, but it don’t feel that way. Feel like I been here forever.”

“I can see it in your eyes that you know what it is to live through life. You seen some things you might never forget. But it helped make you the man you are,” she said.

Elijah nodded once. “Yes ma’am.”

“Annie a virgin ’cause she know what it means to not take care of her responsibility. And she don’t want to risk it. That ain’t the whole reason, but it’s a big part of it. You want kids, Elijah?”

He blinked, caught off guard, his answer stumbling out before he could really think it through.

“I—I think I do.”

“You know how many kids I got?”

He shook his head lightly. “Ain’t never heard of nobody else ’cept Ray and Marcus.”

That made her hum.

“I got six,” she said. “Three boys and three girls. The oldestis William. Then Clarisse…she got my gift. Then Rose. Then Ray. Then Mariah…” she paused just slightly, “…that’s Annie’s mama. Then Marcus.”

Elijah quietly listened, trying to take it all in.

“All six of my children live they own life,” she continued. “I don’t try to make ’em live it no other way but their own. Annie ever tell you about her mama?”

Elijah shook his head. “She didn’t want to talk about it when I asked.”

Mama Nette nodded slowly, like she expected that answer.

“Mm,” she hummed.

And the way she went quiet after that told him everything he needed to know.

“Mariah had Annie when she was about eighteen or nineteen,” she began. “It was a real rough time with her in my house. She ain’t never wanna do right and always wanted things to go her way. Now ain’t nothing wrong with being who you are, but you got to take responsibility for it too.”

Elijah listened, his hands barely keeping up with hers.

“She had this little boyfriend. He was a nasty, dirty boy and I ain't like him from the start. I tried to get her to leave him alone but she ain't wanna hear me,” Mama Nette went on, her lip curling slightly. “I taught all my kids about sex and what could come with it. Mariah ain't care nothing about my lessons, and neither did Marcus. But the difference between them, Marcus stayed and took care of his."

“I guess she got tired of me pressing her about that boy, 'cause she ran off when she was seventeen.” she said. "She came back pregnant a year or so later. She was crying, tellin' me how that boy ain't want bno baby and was gonna put her out if she ain't get rid of it."

Elijah’s brows pulled together slightly.

“I told her she could stay, but I wasn't helping her get rid of no baby when she was so far along,” Mama Nette said. “When I said that, she threw a fit. But she stayed. And I'll never forget that night when everything went wrong between us.”

Her hands slowed as the air in the kitchen got thicker.

“We was all sitting at the table, eating dinner and she just looked different. The way she was looking at me all night wasn't normal. Later on, she asked me if I would keep the baby 'cause she wasn't ready to be somebody's mama.”

A small breath left her.

“I was upset,” she admitted. “After everything I taught my kids, here she come asking me to take on something that wasn’t mine. But I told her I would under the condition that if I take that baby, she won't ever see it again. From the moment the baby given to me to the moment the baby die.”

She sat back just slightly.

“But that wasn’t just me being cruel,” she went on. “Mariah was my baby too. Why would I wanna keep her from her child?”

She shook her head.

“No. I wanted her to understand something that actions got consequences. And if I’m gon’ take care of something I ain’t had no hand in making, then I get full say in what happen. Especially when no baby asked to be here. And especially not to two no-good parents.” Annette said sharply.

“When I told her that, she got real mad. She said it was her baby and she could come see her whenever she wanted. She said how could a mother do something like this to her child.”

A faint scoff left her.

“Her and Rose had always been close, so Rose got upset too,” she added. “But I stood my ground. Both of 'em left and that was the last time I heard from 'em. A few weeks later, I opened my front door to leave for church when I heard the loudest cries. I looked down and there she was. Couldn’t have been more than a few hours old 'cause she wasn't even cleaned off good. I picked her up and took her straight to the hospital. I gave her my name so she would know she would always have somebody. It's been me and Annie ever since."

“I tried to teach her everything I know,” she added. “Let her learn what she could. But some things, a child learns on their own with no help or warning."

Seven-year-old Annie Richard walked down the sidewalk with her little bookbag bouncing against her back, her shoes scuffing the ground as she kicked at a loose rock in front of her. She was humming a hymn she heard in church, completely in her own little world. Her hair was done up in twists with little ribbons tied at the ends and her dress was just a little wrinkled from sitting in it all day at school.

She paused when she got to the corner store, pushing the door open with a small grunt, the bell above it jingling as she stepped inside.

Annie walked straight to the candy aisle like she’d done it a hundred times before, her small fingers trailing along the shelves as she scanned everything. Her eyes lit up as soon as she spotted what she wanted. She reached up on her tiptoes, stretching just a little to grab a bright bag of candy from the rack.

Her fingers had just wrapped around it, when another hand grabbed it too. Annie looked up completely startled.

A pretty woman stood there, but something about her felt off.

“You like those?” the woman asked, her voice was far softer than her stare.

Annie nodded, holding onto the bag. “Mhm. I’m getting it to share with my friend.”

Her voice was sweet, yet matter of fact.

The woman’s fingers slowly loosened from the bag, but her eyes didn’t leave Annie’s face. She squinted slightly like she was trying to place something.

“You from around here?” she asked.

Annie nodded again. “Mhm. I’m going to my friend house.”

The woman hummed under her breath, her eyes moving over Annie’s face taking everything in. Behind her, a man stood a few feet away, watching them quietly. His posture was more relaxed, but his eyes were just as fixed.

“Who your mama?” the woman asked next.

Annie shifted slightly, hugging the candy bag to her chest now.

“I don't have a mama, only my grandma,” she said. “Ms Annette Richard.”

The woman’s lips parted just slightly, her eyes sharpening with recognition.

The resemblance was clear as day, and her thoughts were just confirmed.

“What’s your name, baby?” she asked.

Annie answered without hesitation.

“Annette, but everybody call me Annie.”

The woman's hand lifted slowly, like she wanted to reach out to touch her face, but she stopped herself halfway. A mix of regret and guilt flowed through her body all at once, but she swallowed it down and forced a smile.

“That’s a pretty name,” she said softly.

Annie beamed at that while gripping her candy.

“Thank you.”

The woman glanced back at the man behind her then she looked back at Annie.

"Do you know who I am?” she asked.

Annie shook her head.

“I’m…” she started, but paused. “…I’m your mama.”

Annie blinked. She was confused now. This didn't make any sense.

“My mama?” she repeated, her brows pulling together slightly.

She glanced toward the man, then back at the woman. The woman nodded slowly.

“And this is your daddy…” she said, gesturing lightly.

The man gave a small nod, like he didn’t quite know what to do with himself.

Annie just stood there, holding her candy, looking between them. Her little face scrunched slightly as she tried to understand when it didn’t fit with anything she’d ever known.

“My grandma my mama,” she said softly.

The woman’s smile faltered for just a second. She looked like she didn’t know what to say next.

Annie just stood there with her small hands tightened little by little as she looked between the woman and the man. Her mama? Her daddy?

Ms Annette Richard had never told little Annie a lie. Not once. But she never said who her mama was either. Never gave her a face or name. So now her little mind was trying to make sense of something that had never been explained.

“I ain’t never heard of you,” Annie said honestly.

“She ain’t never mention me?” Mariah asked softly.

Annie shook her head. “No ma’am.”

Mariah shifted, stepping just a little closer, lowering herself some so she wasn’t towering over Annie.

“Well…” she started, her voice turning gentle and coaxing. “Would you like to get to know your mama and daddy?”

Her grandmother had always told her that her mama didn’t want her. And always said it in a way that Annie never questioned. So why was this woman standing here saying something different?

Annie’s chest felt tight all of a sudden. She felt a little hurt, curious, and just upset enough to fall into her "mama's" trap.

And just enough upset to make her look at this woman a little longer than she should’ve.

“How I know you my mama?” Annie asked carefully.

Mariah paused trying to think of anything that would bring recognition to the small girl. Then it hit her.

“Well, when I was pregnant with you I carved a little 'M' in the dining room table.” she said slowly.

Annie’s eyes widened instantly and a soft gasp left her mouth. Because she knew exactly what the woman was talking about.

The little letter was scratched into the wood, right near the edge on the right side of the table. Annie had traced it with her fingers a hundred times. She always thought Uncle Marcus did it. That’s what made sense.

Her little brain latched onto this information too fast.

“I know that,” Annie whispered.

Her eyes flicked up to Mariah again. She was a little more open and accepting now.

Mariah saw that and pressed just a little further.

“Come on and spend some time with us,” she said softly, holding her hand out.

Annie hesitated. Her eyes flicked toward the door, but then she looked back at the older woman and the man behind her. The curiousity won her over and she slowly placed her small hand into Mariah's.

Mariah’s fingers quickly closed around hers like she didn't want her to pull away. She gently took the candy from Annie’s other hand, guiding her toward the front of the store.

“Let’s pay for this first,” she said.

They walked up to the counter, Annie glancing back at her “daddy” who followed behind them.

Mariah set the candy on the counter, then looked back at him expectantly. His face tensed up slightly, like the idea of spending even a few cents on her irritated him. But under her look, he reached into his pocket anyway, pulled out the change, and dropped it on the counter.

The cashier barely paid them any mind and bagged up the candy.

Mariah took Annie’s hand again to lead her out of the store. The bell from the store door rung out as Annie was guided toward a nice shiny car. Mariah opened the back door for her.

“Go on, baby,” she said softly.

Annie climbed in, her little legs pulling up after her as she sat carefully on the seat, her candy bag resting in her lap. She looked around the inside of the car. It was clean and sweet smelling.

Her “daddy” got in the front without saying much, starting the car with a quiet turn of the key. Mariah got in beside him and they drove off.

Annie sat up straight, watching everything pass by her window. The further they went, the less familiar everything became. She was quiet as she watched the changing scenery. Every now and then, she’d glance up at the back of Mariah’s head, then at the man driving, then back out the window.

She was trying to make it all make sense. She was feeling so many things from excitement to scared, but mostly she was unsure.

It felt like a long time before the car finally slowed.

They turned off onto a busy street, and then pulled up in front of a really big house that made Annie look on in awe. It was far nicer than anything she's seen before. Her eyes widened just a little as she pressed her hand against the window.

“This your house?” she asked softly.

Mariah smiled. “It is.”

The car stopped and the man got out first.

Mariah turned back to Annie. “Come on.”

When they got inside the house, it was entirely too quiet. Everything was incredibly still.

Annie stepped in, her shoes soft against the floor as she looked around. It didn't feel like home yet.

Mariah didn’t seem to notice Annie's hesitancy. She took Annie’s hand again and led her to the stairs.

“I wanna show you something,” she said.

They went upstairs. Each step creaking just slightly under Annie’s feet as she climbed.

Mariah walked down the hall, stopping at a door and pushed it open.

“This is going to be your room,” she said, stepping aside.

Annie peeked in.

“My room?” she asked.

Mariah smiled like she'd been waiting for this exact moment.

Annie stepped inside slowly.

It was nice. There was a big bed with clean sheets and a floral cover, and a dresser near a large window with pretty lace curtains over it.

None of this felt like hers. There were no books or pretty flowers or her favorite dolls. It was just a simple room.

“You can do whatever you want in here,” Mariah said from the doorway.

Annie nodded slowly. “Okay.”

Mariah lingered for a second longer then left, her footsteps fading down the hall.

And Annie was alone.

She sat on the edge of the bed, pulling her candy into her lap. She opened it carefully, taking out one piece and popping it into her mouth.

She reached for another, but her grandmother’s voice echoed in her head clear as day.

Don’t spoil your dinner.

Annie huffed but decided to close the bag, and set it beside her to save it.

She decided to explore a little so she got up. She walked around the house a little, really only going from the stairs to the living room to the kitchen. She somehow found her way to the back door.

Outside, the yard behind the house was big with enough space to run around. So she did.

She spent hours running and playing made up games in her head like she always did when she was by herself. And, eventually, when her little body got tired she made her way inside.

The house was still quiet and empty-feeling.

She went upstairs on her own, remembering where the room Mariah showed her was. She found a bathroom nearby and ran herself a bath the way her grandmother had done. She washed herself quickly, the warm water relaxing her just enough to make her eyelids feel heavy.

Afterward, she found some clothes in the dresser and pulled them on. They were a little too big but still wearable.

Her stomach rumbled softly, so she went downstairs again, opened the fridge, and looked inside. There wasn’t much she recognized, but she found some milk and fruit. She ate quietly at the counter.

When she finished, she cleaned up behind herself then went back upstairs. She climbed into the bed slowly, pulling the covers up over her small frame. Annie stared up at the ceiling. Her mind was tired but still trying to understand everything. None of it felt real yet. She turned onto her side, pulling the blanket closer. And eventually she fell asleep.

Back at the Richard house, the smell of something good filled the kitchen. Annette moved around, one hand stirring a pot while the other reached for some seasoning without even needing to look.

The screen door creaked open and heavy footsteps came in behind it.

“Ma?” Ray’s voice carried through the house.

Mama Nette didn’t turn right away. “In here.”

Ray stepped into the kitchen, dusting his hands together. His presence filled the room different. He leaned down, pressing a quick kiss to the side of his mama’s head.

“Mmm. You getting skinnier on me,” she hummed.

He chuckled. “I'm the same size I was last time.”

She finally looked at him, giving him a once-over anyway like she didn’t quite believe that.

“Where Annie at?” he asked, glancing toward the hallway like she might come skipping out.

Annette went back to her pot. “At Cece’s. But she ‘posed to be back soon now.”

“I’ll go get her.” Ray was beyond ready to see his niece.

Mama Nette gave a small hum of acknowledgment.

Ray turned and left the house.

Cece's house wasn't far, only a few blocks over, so it didn't take him long to get there. He pulled up in front of the house and cut his engine. He stepped out, stretching once before heading up the short walkway, and knocked twice on the door.

The door opened a moment later, Cece’s mama standing there, wiping her hands on her apron.

“Well hey, Ray,” she greeted, surprised but smiling. “You back in town?”

“Yes ma’am,” he said politely, nodding. “I came to grab Annie. She over here?”

There was a small pause.

Cece’s mama frowned slightly. “Annie?”

“Yeah. My mama said she was over here with Cece,” Ray’s brows pulled together just a bit.

Cece’s mama shook her head slowly. “Baby, Annie ain’t been over here today.”

Ray blinked. “What you mean she ain’t been over here?”

“She ain’t come by at all,” she said, more firmly now. “Cece been here with me all afternoon.”

Ray's body subtly tensed up.

“You sure?” he asked, even though he could already tell by her face that she was.

“Yes, I’m sure.”

Silence stretched between them for a beat.

“Alright,” he said lowly. “Thank you.”

“You want me to—”

“No ma'am,” he cut in gently, stepping back.

Cece’s mama watched him for a second, concern starting to creep onto her face as he turned and headed back toward his car.

The second Ray got in, he shut the door harder than he needed to. His hands gripped the steering wheel tightly and his mind was moving fast. He pulled off, trying not to be too reckless.

His eyes scanned every sidewalk and corner he passed. He looked at every group of kids he went by. Because something wasn’t right.

He turned back onto his mama’s street and that feeling had only gotten worse. The car barely stopped before he was out of it, striding up the steps and pushing through the door.

“Ma!”

Annette turned around, took one good look at his face, and she knew.

“She never made it over there," Ray's breath was coming out heavier.

Annette set her spoon down slowly as she took in her son's words.

“What you mean she ain’t make it?”

Ray ran a hand over his head, pacing across the kitchen.

“I mean Cece mama said Annie ain’t been there all day.”

She turned toward the counter, wiping her hands off because she needed something to do with them.

“Go check that store on the corner,” she said. “Annie like to stop there for candy sometimes.”

“Okay.”

He didn’t waste another second. He practically ran out the door to get back in the car. He zipped down the road with his fingers tapping hard against the steering wheel and his leg bouncing restlessly.

She know better than to be wandering off.

That thought kept repeating in his head over and over.

He pulled up to the small corner store, not even bothering to park straight before he was out the car and heading inside.

The bell above the door rang and the man behind the counter looked up.

“Evenin’—”

“Did a little girl come in here earlier?” Ray cut in. “She 'bout this tall, with twists in her hair?"

The man squinted as if he was thinking. The he nodded in recognition.

“Yeah, she did.”

Relief hit Ray for half a second, but disappeared just as fast.

“When?” Ray pressed.

“Couple hours ago now,” the man said. “She came in, bought some candy.”

Ray leaned forward slightly. “She leave by herself?”

The man shook his head slowly. “No.”

“What you mean no?”

“She left with a man and a woman,” the man said.

Everything in Ray’s body went tight.

“What man?” His voice dropped.

“I don’t know ‘em,” the man shrugged. “Thought it was her folks or somethin’. They was talkin’ to her like they knew her.”

Ray’s hands clenched into fists at his sides. His chest rose and fell sharply.

“She don’t know them,” he said, more to himself than anything.

The man blinked. “Well, she walked out with ‘em. It ain’t look like nothin’ was wrong.”

That didn’t help much because Annie was polite little girl. Sweet enough to talk to anybody and listen to anything.

Ray dragged a hand down his face.

“You see which way they went?” he asked.

The man pointed vaguely toward the street. “That way.”

"Thank you," Ray nodded tensely.

When he pulled back up to the house, Ray felt like he was losing it. His breathing was heavy and his mind was jumbled with all the what-ifs.

“Ma!”

Annette walked toward him as soon as he got in the door.

“She was at the store earlier, but the man said she left with somebody,” he said. “It was a man and a woman and that they was talkin’ to her like they knew her. And she know better than that, Ma. You done told her—”

“I know what I told her,” Annette snapped.

She went to the phone, picked it up, and started turning the dial to call people. She was going to call her other sons, and she knew the word would spread fast from there.

At some point in the night, Annie stirred awake from the sudden loudness in the house. A sharp burst of laughter somewhere in the house fully brought her out of her sleep. Her small body shifted under the covers, brows knitting together as her eyes fluttered open in the dark.

For a second, she didn’t remember where she was. The ceiling above her wasn’t the one she knew.

The sounds felt like they were coming from far away yet were rigth in the room with her. The voices were layered and people were laughing and talking with each other.

Annie pushed herself up slowly, the blanket slipping down into her lap as she sat there, listening. She was utterly confused because the house had been so quiet before, but now it sounded alive.

Her little feet slid out from under the covers and carefully touched the floor. She hesitantly glanced toward the door. Curiosity tugged at her hard, so she slowly crept to the door. Her hand wrapped around the knob, turning it just enough to ease it open without a sound.

The hallway upstairs was dim with only a faint glow from downstairs creeping up the staircase. Annie stepped out, her small frame barely making a sound as she moved closer to the banister. Annie gripped the railing slightly, her fingers curling around the wood as she tried to make sense of what she was seeing.

And when she looked down her eyes widened. People were crowded around pressed close together. Music played loud enough now that she could feel it faintly in her chest. Smoke curled up toward the ceiling, making everything look hazy.

She stepped back from the stairs. Her heart was beating a little faster, but not from excitement.

She didn’t want to go downstairs and she knew she wasn’t ever supposed to get out of bed. Everything about what she had just seen made her want to stay where she was safe. So instead, she turned down the hallway and walked slowly.

Little Annie moved passed the doors, some were closed and others were barely shut. One in particular caught her attention. It was cracked open just enough. The voices inside didn't sound like the ones coming from downstairs.

Annie paused at the open door, her head tilting slightly as she listened. The voices sounded breathy and lighter than anything she's ever heard.

Curiosity got to her again, so she stepped closer. Her small hand lifted, pressing lightly against the door as she leaned in just enough to peek through the opening.

She saw a man and a woman tangled together in a way she had never seen before. The woman’s head tilted back, her voice breaking out in a sound Annie didn’t understand, while the man hovered over her.

Annie’s breath caught as she realized that they were both naked. A sharp, startled gasp slipped out of her before she could stop it.

Her eyes went wide as she took the sight in. None of this looked right and she didn't like. Her stomach twisted and she was confused. So without a second thought she ran.

Her feet hit the floor quickly as she hurried back down the hall, the sounds from that room chasing after her in her head. She pushed into her room, shutting the door fast behind her.

She scrambled back to the bed, climbing up onto it like the noises might follow her.

Her hands instantly flew up to her ears to cover them. Her eyes squeezed shut, her face scrunching as she tried to block everything out. Annie's small body curled in on itself and her heart raced. She was far too overwhelmed for her liking.

Because she didn’t know what she had just seen and she didn't think it was something she was supposed to see. And in this house that didn’t feel like home that feeling only got worse.

When Annie woke up the next morning, it was back quiet as if nothing had ever happened. She blinked up at the ceiling as she laid there, listening for any sounds. Annie frowned thinking she dreamed up everything that happened last night.

Her stomach growled and brought her out of it. She got out of bed, walked over to the door, and opened it slowly. She peeked out into the hallway.

Soft morning light was coming through the windows.

Annie stepped out, closing her door gently behind her then made her way down the hall and to the stairs. Each step down creaked gently under her weight.

When she reached the bottom step and walked to the kitchen, she saw people. It wasn't nearly as many as there were last night. Women were scattered around the kitchen and living room area talking lowly to each other. They were dressed in loose clothing, with shorts on and the shirt straps slipping down their shoulders. There was so much skin showing, it made Annie instinctively look away, unsure where her eyes were supposed to go.

One woman had a cigarette between her fingers, smoke curling up as she laughed at something someone said.

Annie stayed right there at the edge of the room, her hands coming together in front of her. her chest felt tight and she had the instant realization that she didn't want to be there. She wanted to go home.

One of the women noticed her first. The woman's eyes widened slightly when she looked over.

“Who kid is that?” she asked.

Every head turned and eyes landed on Annie.

The woman with the cigarette quickly pulled it from her lips and put it out against a nearby ashtray. Another woman adjusted her shirt.

Annie didn’t move. She just stood there, feeling all those eyes on her, her fingers pressing tighter together.

Before anyone else could say anything Mariah appeared in the kitchen doorway. She was fully dressed and her hair done. She looked put together in a way that had Annie confused when she looked at the other women.

“That’s my daughter,” she said simply.

A few of the women exchanged confused looks, but nobody questioned it. They just accepted it without really fully understanding.

Mariah didn’t say anything else about it. She simply moved into the kitchen like everything was completely normal. She grabbed a pan, set it on the stove, and started pulling things out to cook breakfast.

“Sit down,” she said to Annie without even looking at her.

Annie walked slowly to one of the chairs at the table and climbed up into it, her legs swinging above the floor. Her eyes stayed on Mariah, watching her move around.

The skillet sizzled loud, the smell of grease and seasoning filling the room. Plates were already set out, utensils clinking softly as she worked. Annie's eyes followed Mariah’s hands and the way she scooped food onto plates.

The front door opened and heavy footsteps sounded throughout the house.

Annie’s head turned quickly as her "father" walked in the room. He didn't even glance at Annie.

“The food is ready,” Mariah said while looking at him.

He grunted in response, sitting at the table right across from Annie.

Mariah fixed a plate for him first and set it down in front of him without a word.

The other women started moving as if that was their signal. They fixed their own plates and spread out around the kitchen to eat.

Annie sat there, watching all of it as her stomach growled. She pressed her lips together as she looked at the food being passed around. Nobody said anything to her or offered her anything. So she waited hoping maybe someone would notice. But they didn't.

After a while, Annie slowly slid out of her chair and stepped toward the counter. Her small hands lifted up like she was about to reach for a plate, but a hand grabbed her arm hard. Annie flinched instantly, a small sound catching in her throat as she looked up.

It was her “father.” His grip was tight around her upper arm, fingers pressing hard enough to make her stop.

“We ain’t got enough food for you,” he said dismissively.

Annie blinked up at him, her brows pulled together slightly.

“But—” her voice came out small.

He tightened his grip just a little more.

“I said we ain’t got enough.”

He said it in a way that she knew not to question.

Her lip trembled as she nodded. A soft whimper slipped out before she could stop it.

He let go of her arm just as quick as he grabbed it, turning back to his plate like she wasn’t important enough to think about any longer.

Annie gently rubbed her arm where he had held her, her eyes dropping to the floor. She turned and walked out of the kitchen. Her steps were soft as she made her way into the living room. She climbed onto the edge of the couch and sat there with her legs pulled up and stomch twisting.

For the rest of the day, Annie sat in that living room going from one spot to another. She went from the couch to the floor or to just standing by the window staring out at the street.

The women moved through the house constantly. Some women stopped by to speak with her, some even snuck her pieces of candy they had. None of them were mean to her, but they weren't much of anything else either.

As the day went on, the feeling of being alone took over more of her.

Her grandmother would’ve asked if she ate and would've made her go outside, or read a book, or clean something. Her grandmother would've noticed how unsettled she was. Annie was more homesick than she had ever been in her life.

By the time night came, Annie was so jumbled up she didn't know what to do.

They all were gathered in the dining room, Annie included. She was seated at the far end of the table with a small scratch of paper and a pencil that someone had left there. She was pretending to draw, but was really listening to what was going on.

The women sat around the table with tense postures. At the head of the table sat Annie's "father". Mariah was perched on the arm of his chair, one leg crossed over the other. His arm wrapped naturally around her waist.

Annie kept her head down, her pencil moving slowly across the paper. She was doing anything to keep her eyes busy.

“Tonight gone be a good night,” he said, his voice cutting through the room. “Y’all hear me?”

A few murmured yeses followed.

“Good. Cause we need it to be. Ain’t nobody slackin’ tonight. I want every dollar comin’ in.”

The women nodded again.

“And some of y’all still owe,” he continued, his eyes dragging across the table, landing on certain faces longer than others.

A couple of the women shifted uncomfortably. One looked down at her hands and another swallowed hard.

“So that mean you do what I say when I say it and how I say it,” he went on. “It don’t matter if you tired. It don’t matter if you don’t feel like it. And it damn sure don’t matter if you don’t want to.”

A few of the women stiffened at his words.

Annie's pencil slowed down as she listened and digested the words the man said. Her "father" spoke the words like they were something important to hold on to, and Annie kept that in mind.

“Cause at the end of the day you got a job to do and you gone do it,” he said, leaning back. His fingers lightly tapped against Mariah's side.

One of the women finally spoke up, trying to be as careful and soft as she could.

“What about the girl?”

A few eyes subtly flicked toward Annie.

The chair scraped loudly against the floor and Annie’s head snapped up just in time to see his hand swing. The sound of a loud smack cracked through the room suddenly. The woman's head jerked to the side, her body going in shock from the force of it.

Annie froze and her eyes went wide. Her pencil slipped from her fingers and rolled across the table.

He stood over the woman before turning his attention toward Annie. He slowly walked over to her, each of his steps were heavy.

Annie didn’t move. She couldn't really. Her body felt stuck like she forgot how to move.

His hand came out, gripping her chin, forcing her face up toward him. His eyes were cold as he looked down at her.

“I don’t care about her,” he said, like she wasn’t even there. “She ain’t my responsibility.”

Annie’s eyes stung instantly, but she didn't cry. She just looked at him.

His grip tightened just slightly before he let go, her head dropping back down.

“Y’all got work to do,” he continued, turning back toward the table.

Annie's hands shook slightly as she gathered her paper and pencil. She slowly slid off the chair, trying to be as invisible as possible. Her throat felt thick, like something was stopping her from screaming out. She slipped out the room as quietly as possible and practically raced up the stairs.

As soon as she got back into "her" room she closed the door behind her, really needing that barrier between her and them. She climbed onto the bed, pulled her knees up to her chest, wrapped her arms tightly around them, and pressed her face into her arms. Her heart was racing and all she could think about was how she wasn't supposed to be there.

That night, sleep didn’t come easy for Annie. She sat up in that bed for what felt like hours, her back against the headboard, her knees pulled close, just staring and listening.

The house had come alive again, but it was louder than the night before. The music was loud, but the voices were louder. Every now and then, something would hit the wall and it made her jump every time.

Her stomach growled like it had done all day. It was aching in a way that made it hard to think about anything else for too long. She looked over at the small stash of candy she had left. Her grandmother always said not to spoil your dinner, but there was no dinner here. So she ate it all.

By the time she finished, her stomach didn’t growl as loud anymore, but it didn’t feel right either. The candy was too sweet for her empty stomach.

She laid back for a moment, staring up at the ceiling, trying to will herself to sleep. But every time she drifted just a little the noise in the house woke her up again. She couldn’t sleep like this.

Her grandmother would to give her warm milk sometimes to help her sleep good through the night. So maybe that would work.

Annie pushed herself up, her feet touching the floor. The wood was cool under her toes. She listened to the voices everywhere and the too loud music, but she told herself everything was fine. She just needed to go to the kitchen, get some milk, and come right back. That's all.

She walked toward the door carefully, her hand reaching for the knob. Just as her fingers wrapped around it, a thud sounded out like something hit the wall. It was right outside her room.

Annie's heart started to beat a little faster.

Another noise that sounded like a struggle came. Feet were scuffling around and a muffled voice said something she couldn't quite make out.

She slowly turned the knob anyway and pulled the door open just a crack. Then a little more. And she saw them right there in the hallway.

It was one of the women pushing against a man as he grabbed at her. He was pulling at her clothes, his hands rough and impatient.

“Stop—” the woman’s voice broke, breathless, strained as she tried to twist away from him.

He didn’t listen or slow down. He shoved her back hard, her body hitting the wall before she stumbled and fell to the floor. He yanked at the woman’s clothes, fabric tearing, slipping, and falling away.

The woman tried to push him off, but he was stronger.

Annie couldn’t look away. Her body felt locked in place.

The man pushed the woman fully onto the floor. Her back hit the wood hard. He fumbled with his belt, trying to get it unbuckled.

The woman looked right at Annie. Their eyes met and it was like everything else in the home melted away from that look. Tears filled the woman's eyes. And there was a certain look in them that Annie couldn't quite recognize.

Annie’s stomach twisted. A weird, sick feeling spread through her body. She was confused and scared. Her throat burned as she struggled to breathe normally.

She couldn’t stay there and watch that. She didn't quite understand what was happening, but she knew it was wrong.

Annie stepped back quickly, her hand slipping from the door as she turned and ran down the hall. Her small feet moved fast against the floor as she tried to get away from what she just saw.

The closer she got to the stairs, the louder everything became. The air was thick and suffocating, making it hard for her to breathe. But she kept going because she needed to get away from it all.

When she stepped off the last stair and into the main part of the house, she stopped. Her feet planted where they were and her eyes were wide. This wasn’t anything like the night before. Not even close.

People were everywhere. Bodies pressed together in ways Annie didn’t understand but knew she wasn’t supposed to be seeing. Men and women were touching each other's bodies openly.

Some of them still had clothes on, but some of them didn't. And nobody seemed to care about her presence.

Annie’s head turned quickly, trying to look somewhere else. But there was nowhere to look, everydirection was covered, showing her all the things she shouldn't be seeing at her age.

A woman stumbled past her, her hair messy, her face wet with tears. She was saying something, probably begging, but Annie couldn’t hear the words over the music. A man followed close behind her, grabbing her arm too tight, jerking her back when she tried to pull away.

Annie flinched.

Across the room, another woman was pressed against the wall, shaking her head, her hands pushing weakly at the man in front of her.

“No—please—” she cried, her voice breaking.

He didn’t stop or even slow down. His hand came up, striking her hard enough to make Annie’s stomach drop.

Someone laughed, but nothing about this was funny.

She turned, trying to remember the way to the kitchen, but it was way harder now. There were too many people in the way.

She pushed forward, keeping her head low, trying not to look too hard at anything, but things caught her attention anyway.

A man, right there in the open, pulling at a woman, forcing her down against a surface, his movements rough, impatient. The woman cried out, her hands pushing at him, trying to get him off.

“Stop—please—stop—”

Her voice cracked, panicked. Yet he didn't stop. His hand moved to her throat, squeezing hard enough to silence her and hold her still.

Annie’s whole body went cold. She squeezed her eyes shut tight to block it all out and pretend she didn't see it.

Her stomach twisted violently, that sick feeling rushing through her again, stronger than before. Like her body didn’t know what to do with what she had just seen and it was rejecting it.

She shook her head slightly, her hands coming up to cover her ears as best as she could, trying to block out the sounds. All she wanted to think about was getting to the kitchen and getting her milk. So she moved almost blindly.

She felt her way through the space, her steps shaky, bumping into things and people as she passed. Some people were annoyed at her clusmy movements, but she was scared to open her eyes and what she might see if she did. She already saw far too much.

After what felt like forever, she finally made it to the kitchen. It was quieter in there which was exactly what she needed.

Annie stumbled in, breathing a little too fast, her little chest tight like she had been running for miles. But she went straight to the cabinet. She dragged one of the chairs across the floor, the legs scraping loudly. The sound made her wince, her shoulders jumping slightly like she thought someone would come in and yell at her.

She climbed up. Her small hands reaching up, fingers stretching until she grabbed a cup from the shelf. She almost dropped it from her shaky hands. She got down, moving quickly to the fridge, pulling it open.

The cold air was a welcome change to her skin.

She grabbed the glass of milk. It was heavy in her little hands, but she manage to set it on the counter with a soft thud. She carefully climbed back up on the chair.

She poured, trying to be careful to not spill anything. The milk sloshed against the sides of the cup and her lip caught between her teeth in concentration.

When it was full enough, she set the glass down and picked the cup up with both hands. She drank it in big gulps like it would fix everything. The milk was too cold that it hit her stomach wrong, mixing with all that candy. Her face twisted slightly as she swallowed, forcing herself to keep drinking anyway.

Because it was supposed to help. It always helped at home.

She lowered the cup slowly, her stomach churning now, that sick feeling right there at the front. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, trying to steady herself.

Annie froze as she heard movement behind her.

Her "father" walked in first. Mariah right behind him. The second his eyes landed on Annie, his face showed instant annoyance.

“What she doin’ in here?” he snapped.

Annie flinched hard. Her grip tightening on the cup.

He looked at Mariah, irritation clear all over his face.

“Why you let her come down here?” he went on. “I told you I ain’t tryna take care of no kid.”

Annie’s stomach tightened. Her eyes dropped to the cup in her hands.

Mariah didn’t react the way Annie thought she would. She didn't get defensive or argue. She just smiled so sweetly. She stepped closer, reaching out and grabbing Annie’s face, her fingers pressing into her cheeks, turning her head side to side like she was looking her over.

Annie stiffened under her touch, her body going rigid.

“You ain’t even curious?” Mariah said lightly, almost playful. “Don’t you wanna see what she look like?”

He barely glanced at her.

“I seen enough,” he muttered.

Annie’s throat burned. Her eyes filled, tears slipping over before she could stop them.

He crossed his arms.

“So what we doin’ with her?” he asked. “We can take her back?”

Annie’s heart jumped in hope. Her head lifted just a little.

Mariah hummed softly, like she was thinking about it. Her fingers still holding Annie’s face.

“I don’t know. I think I might wanna keep her,” she said slowly.

Annie’s stomach dropped.

He sucked his teeth, clearly irritated.

“That’s another mouth to feed,” he said flatly.

Mariah shrugged lightly, unconcerned.

“She a child,” she replied. “Kids don’t eat as much as grown folks. Won't have to feed her as often.”

He shook his head, over the conversation.

“Man, whatever. Just take her somewhere,” he said, waving his hand like Annie was nothing more than something in the way.

Mariah’s hands slid from Annie’s face down to her shoulders.

“Come on,” she said smiling.

But Annie couldn’t move properly. Her whole body was shaking now. Tears fell freely down her cheeks. Her chest was rising and falling too fast. Her stomach churned, the milk sitting wrong. Everything inside of her felt twisted and tight.

“I wanna go home…” she cried softly, her voice breaking, small hands clutching at her dress.

Mariah’s smile faltered just slightly, before it came right back.

“Stop all that crying. You alright,” she said, her tone sharp.

But Annie didn’t feel alright.

Her legs felt weak. Her head felt light. And her body trembled as she stood there.

Mariah kept her grip on Annie’s shoulders as they moved out of the kitchen.

Annie’s feet dragged a little. The sounds from the rest of the house swallowed them up as soon the moment they stepped out and started for the stairs.

Annie kept her head down, tears still slipping down her face, her hands clenched into the fabric of her dress. She didn’t want to go back upstairs. She didn’t want to be anywhere in this house.

And just as they were about to climb the stairs, the front door shook from loud bangs on it. It was hard enough to rattle the walls. People stopped and looked at it. Another strong desperate hit to the door came.

Mariah’s grip tightened slightly on Annie before she let go, stepping toward the door. She pulled it open cautiously.

William Richard stood at the front, shoulders squared, jaw tight, and a gun firm in his hand. Right behind him was Marcus Richard, eyes scanning the room, anger written all over his face. And Ray Richard just behind them, tense and ready, his focus sharp and locked in.

The second Annie saw them she sprung into action.

“UNCLE WILLY!” she screamed, her voice cracking as she started crying harder, louder than she had all night.

Her whole body moved before her mind could catch up. Her feet pushed forward, desperate to get to them and get home.

“I don’t wanna stay here!” she cried, her voice shaking, panicked. Her words tumbled over each other.

Mariah’s hand shot out, grabbing the back of Annie’s dress, stopping her in her place. Annie stumbled, choking on a sob as she tried to pull forward anyway, her hands reaching out.

William stepped forward just slightly, lifting his gun to make the message clear.

“You better let her go,” he said, his voice low and dangerous.

Marcus didn’t say anything, but the look on his face said enough. Ray’s eyes were already locked on Annie, panic creeping in under the anger.

Mariah hesitated. Her grip still tight in Annie’s dress. Then she let go.

Annie didn’t wait. She ran straight to them.

Ray caught her instantly, dropping down slightly to meet her. He wrapped her up tight as she clung to him, her small body shaking uncontrollably.

“I got you baby,” he said quickly, his voice softer now, urgent. "You okay?"

But she couldn’t answer. She was crying too hard. Her face buried into him, her fingers gripping onto his shirt.

Marcus stepped closer, his hand hovering over her back like he didn’t know where to touch. William kept his eyes up, watching everything else, making sure nobody moved.

“Let’s go,” he said shortly.

The door shut behind them.

The outside air hit Annie’s face, but it didn’t settle her. They moved her carefully down the steps.

“Annie—Annie, look at me,” Ray tried, pulling back just enough to see her face.

But she was still crying, her breaths coming too fast, uneven.

“What happened?” Marcus asked, his voice tight. “What you see?”

Before Annie could even try to answer, her body jerked. A gag caught in her throat.

“Wait—” Ray started, but it was too late.

She turned her head and threw up into the grass. What little she had in her stomach, came up fast. hER SMALL BODY TREMBLED FROM THE FORCE.

“Easy—” Ray murmured, holding her steady as she coughed, trying to catch her breath.

“Jesus…” Marcus muttered under his breath, running a hand over his face.

The car door slammed open and Clarisse Richard rushed out. Her face was full of worry the second she saw Annie.

“Oh my baby—” she said, hurrying over, immediately reaching for her to check anywhere she could.

“She sick,” William said shortly. “We gotta go.”

Clarisse nodded quickly, moving to help, her hands gentle but firm as she helped lift Annie up.

Annie barely had the strength to hold herself up now. Her body felt weak and her head was spinning.

They carried her to the car trying not to move her around too much.

Ray slid in with her, keeping her close, one arm wrapped around her as she leaned into him, sniffling and shaking. Clarisse climbed in on the other side, rubbing Annie’s head.

The kitchen was quiet except for the soft snap of beans.

Mama Nette lifted her eyes to Elijah, studying him.

“You see,” she said after a moment, her voice calm, “that girl saw far too much for somebody her age. Things she ain’t had no business seeing and understanding. She learned real early what men could be. What they do when they think they got power over you. What they take when you don’t give it.”

She continued snapping the beans in her hands.

“And that’ll make a girl real careful,” she said. “Make her watchful and question everything. But she did grow up and learn that all men ain't like that. That there's some good ones. But even then something always got to come along and test your belief."

The sun sat high in the sky, bright and warm, reflecting off the water like little sparks of light. The lake stretched out calm and pretty, the air filled with laughter and splashing. It should’ve been a good day. And for a while it was.

Annie stood off to the side with her friend, both of them giggling, talking, watching the boys show off by the water. Everything felt easy.

Her boyfriend came up behind her, slipping an arm around her waist.

She smiled, leaning into him just a little.

“Come here,” he murmured, pulling her away from the others.

She didn’t think much of it.

He turned her toward him, pressing her lightly back against one of the trees.

She laughed softly.

“What you doin’?” she asked, her voice playful.

He didn’t answer. Just leaned in and kissed her.

At first it was a soft, familiar kiss. Annie kissed him back, her hands resting lightly against his chest. Then his hands moved lower and more insistent. He tried to slide them under the hem of her dress.

Annie pulled back just slightly.

“Wait—,” she said, her voice light, but firm.

He didn’t stop. His hand tried again.

She caught his wrist this time.

“No,” she said very clearly now.

He sighed, like she was being difficult.

“C’mon,” he muttered, leaning back in, trying to kiss her again.

She turned her face away. “I said no.”

That should’ve been enough. It wasn’t.

His grip tightened slightly, his hand moved again, this time trying to guide hers instead. he pulled her hand down until it sat on the top of the seat of his pants, so she could feel the bulge there.

Annie frowned, pulling back. “No, stop—”

But he didn’t stop.

His voice dropped, a little more impatient now.

“You don’t mean that,” he said. “You just playin’.”

Annie’s stomach tightened, uneasily. Her mind traveling back in time to a seven year old Annie.

“I’m not playing,” she said, pushing at his chest now. “I said no.”

He didn’t like that and she could see it in his face.

He moved closer again, crowding her space, ignoring the way she was trying to put distance between them.

“I’ll make you feel good,” he said, like that was supposed to fix everything.

Her heart started to beat faster.

“Stop,” she said again, more urgent now, pushing harder against him.

He wasn’t listening at all.

Annie’s back pressed harder against the tree, her hands braced against him as she tried to create space. Her breathing picked up.

“Stop—” she said again, her voice rising slightly, panic starting to slip in.

But he kept pushing forward like her words didn’t matter.

Her hands pushed harder.

“Get off me!” she said, louder now, her voice shaking.

He barely reacted.

“You don’t mean that,” he muttered, trying to catch her lips again, one hand still trying to force hers down, the other gripping at her waist too tight. “You just scared, that’s all. I got you.”

“I said no!” she snapped, her voice breaking as she turned her face away, pushing harder against him, her nails pressing into his shirt.

But he kept going. And that feeling—the same one from when she was little, from that house, from those nights she didn’t understand but felt anyway—it rose up fast and ugly in her chest.

That’s when she heard a car door slam open in the midst of her "No".

“Aye!”

The shout stopped everything.

“She said no. Back the fuck up.”

Annie’s head snapped to the side, her eyes wide.

At the top of the small slope, her cousin stood beside the car. A couple of his friends were right behind him, spreading out as they came down.

Her boyfriend froze completely caught off guard.

That was all Annie needed. She shoved him hard. This time he stumbled back just enough for her to slip out from between him and the tree. Her chest was heaving, her eyes glossy with tears as she stood there, shaken.

“Annie, get in the car,” her cousin called, his voice firm but not harsh.

She looked between him and the boy in front of her.

Her boyfriend was trying to recover, running a hand over his shirt like nothing had happened.

“She good,” he started. “We was just—”

“Man, shut the hell up,” her cousin cut in, stepping closer.

Annie’s stomach twisted.

“It's okay—” she started, her voice small and shaky.

“It ain’t okay,” he snapped, not even looking at her this time, his eyes locked on the boy.

Annie swallowed hard, tears slipping down her cheeks now.

“It’s not like that. He didn't—” she tried again, wiping at her face quickly.

“Annie,” her cousin said, firmer this time, finally looking at her, “get in the car.”

There was no arguing in his tone.

Her chest tightened, but she nodded. She turned and walked toward the car, her legs feeling unsteady, her hands still trembling.

Behind her, she could feel the tension building.

She didn’t want to turn around and see it. But she did as soon as she reached the car door.

Her cousin’s friend stepped forward first, shoving her boyfriend back hard.

“What you think you was doing?” he demanded.

The boy pushed back immediately, defensive now. “Man, y’all doing too much—”

The first hit landed before he could catch it. A fist to the jaw that snapped his head to the side. Then another. And another. It all happened so fast.

Annie gasped, her hand flying to her mouth as she watched them swarm him, pushing him back, fists flying, anger pouring out of them with every hit.

“Stop!” she cried, her voice breaking. “Stop it!”

Her cousin stepped in too, grabbing the boy by his shirt and landing a punch that sent him stumbling to the ground.

“You don’t hear a woman say no?” he snapped.

The boy tried to get up, but they didn’t give him the chance. The kicked and punched him relentlessly.

Annie’s vision blurred with tears as she shook her head, panicking now.

“Please, stop!” she cried, her hands gripping the car door. “Y’all gonna hurt him!”

Her cousin finally looked back at her. He saw her crying and how shaken she was. He exhaled sharply, holding his hand up.

“Aight,” he said, pulling his friends back.

They walked away, leaving the boy on the ground, barely moving.

Breathing hard, her cousin ran a hand over his face before pointing toward the car again.

“Get in,” he said, softer this time.

Annie didn’t argue. She climbed into the car quickly, her body still trembling, her chest tight as she wiped at her face over and over again.

The door shut behind her.

Her mind was spinning from the feeling that kept coming back.

And if nobody had come—

She didn’t even want to finish that thought.

The soft snap of beans breaking between Mama Nette’s fingers filled the space, steady and unbothered. Sunlight came through the window, casting a warm glow over the table, over the bowl of peas, over her hands as she worked without looking up for a moment.

Elijah sat there across from her, his own hands slower now. The peas in front of him blurred slightly as his mind tried to settle around everything she had said. He could still see it, clear as day, even though he hadn’t lived it. A little girl, scared and hungry, trapped in a place she never should have been. It made his chest tighten in a way he didn’t know how to name.

Mama Nette finally paused, lifting her head to look at him. Her eyes were sharp but not unkind, like she was just waiting to see if he would prove her right.

“You see now,” she said, her voice calm but firm, “Annie ain’t gon’ know what to do when it come to her emotions.”

Elijah looked up at her, listening close.

“She done had good men in her life,” she continued, snapping another bean between her fingers, “Men that love her, take care of her, show her what it’s supposed to be. But she done seen some of the worst too. And them worst ones leave a mark, whether you want ‘em to or not.”

Elijah swallowed, his hands stilling for a second before he forced himself to keep working.

Mama Nette watched him carefully. “I can see what kind of man you are, Elijah. But she need to see it too,” she said.

He let out a slow breath, his eyes dropping back to the peas as he thought about Annie. The way she smiled, the way she pulled away just as quick. The way she said one thing but felt something else entirely. It made more sense now, but it didn’t make it easier.

“She a handful,” Mama Nette went on, a faint hint of amusement touching her voice, “but she get it honest. That girl been strong since she was little.”

Mama Nette leaned back just a bit, resting her hands for a moment before continuing.

“Now, yes, I did some work so Annie would find somebody that would be good for her. Somebody that would show her how to live right, not just survive,” she said plainly.

“I just…” he started, his voice quieter now, more uncertain than before. “I don’t know what to do. Every time I try, she run. Or she twist what I say into something else. I don’t wanna keep pushing her away.”

Mama Nette clicked her tongue softly, shaking her head just a little. “That’s ‘cause you ain’t being plain,” she said. “You talking around things instead of saying exactly what you mean. You gotta say it simple and straight. Annie don’t need confusion, she got enough of that in her own head. You leave space, she gon’ fill it with whatever she scared of.”

That sat with him.

“You let her dance around you, she gon’ keep dancing,” Mama Nette added, her eyes narrowing slightly. “That girl do what she wanna do. So you gotta make her do what you know is best for her.”

Elijah looked up at that, a bit unsure. “Make her?”

“Be stern,” she clarified. “Not mean or rough, but stand in what you saying. Otherwise she gon’ run circles around you and then cry about it after. She think she can get away with anything with you. And right now, she ain’t wrong.”

They fell into a brief silence after that, the only sound being the continued snapping of beans. This time, Elijah kept going without stopping, his mind working through everything she had said.

After a while, Mama Nette glanced up at him again, eyebrows lifting slightly. “What you still doing here?” she asked, almost like she had forgotten he was still sitting there. “Go on and see about that girl.”

“Yes ma’am,” he said.

He headed upstairs, his steps heavier than before but more certain. When he reached Annie’s room, he paused for just a second before stepping inside. The flowers he had brought sat where he left them, untouched.

He picked them up carefully, his eyes lingering for a second as he looked around again. Then he turned and headed back downstairs. As he moved toward the door, he heard Mama Nette’s voice from behind him.

“Hey. Be easy on my baby, hear?” she said. “She learning.”

Elijah nodded once, firm.

“Yes ma’am.”

And with that, he stepped out of the house, closing the door behind him as he went.

Elijah sat in the car for a second after he pulled up to the school. The engine was still running, his hands resting on the steering wheel while the flowers sat in his lap.

The schoolyard was alive in front of him. Children ran across the playground, their laughter carrying through the air. Teachers stood off to the side in the shaded area near the fence, watching.

Elijah let out a quiet breath, reaching down to grab the flowers before stepping out of the car. He shut the door behind him and stood there for a moment, scanning the yard, his eyes moving from group to group, searching.

He didn’t see her at first so he started walking toward the fence. His gaze moved until it finally landed on her.

She was sitting on a bench in the shaded area, her posture relaxed. Her head turned toward Lillian as they talked. From where he stood, he couldn’t hear what they were saying, but he could see the small movements.

For a second, he just watched her. Taking her in, trying to make sure she was okay. Then he stepped closer to the fence.

“Annie,” he called, his voice carrying just enough to reach her.

She didn’t even turn her head. It was as if she hadn’t heard him at all. But he knew she did.

Lillian looked up immediately though, her eyes landing on him. Her expression shifted in recognition, and she gave him a small wave before nudging Annie lightly with her elbow.

Annie barely reacted. She kept her gaze forward, her face set, like she was determined not to acknowledge him.

Elijah exhaled slowly, tightening his grip just slightly on the flowers.

“Annie,” he called again, a little firmer this time.

Before she could ignore him again, a little girl came running up to her, breathless and excited about something. Annie turned to her instantly, her voice soft as she answered whatever question the girl had, giving her full attention like nothing else mattered.

Elijah watched that.

The little girl lingered though, her curiosity getting the better of her. She glanced past Annie, her small finger lifting to point toward the fence.

“Miss Annie,” she said, her voice loud enough to for him to hear, “I think that man is askin’ for you.”

Annie closed her eyes for the briefest second before opening them again, her patience still intact.

“Thank you, baby,” she said gently.

But the girl didn’t move. She just stood there, looking between Annie and Elijah, her curiosity written all over her face.

“I think you should go over there,” she added, like she was helping.

Annie let out a quiet breath through her nose, forcing a small, tight smile.

“Go on and play,” she told her softly.

The girl nodded and finally ran off.

Elijah called her name again, not raising his voice.

This time, Lillian didn’t hold back.

“Girl,” she said under her breath, nudging Annie again, “go talk to that man.”

Annie huffed quietly, her jaw tightening just a little before she pushed herself up from the bench. She smoothed her dress absentmindedly, then started walking toward the fence. Each step felt like she was bracing herself.

When she finally got close enough, she stopped just on the other side of the fence, keeping a small distance between them. Her arms crossed lightly over her chest, her expression guarded as she looked anywhere but directly at him.

“What?” she said, her tone flat.

Elijah lifted the flowers toward her, the bright petals a soft contrast to the tension sitting heavy between them.

“I brought you these,” he said quietly.

Annie didn’t move to take them. Her eyes flicked down to the bouquet before she looked away again.

A small pause stretched between them before Elijah let his arm lower just a little, the flowers still in his hand.

“How you be?” he asked, trying again.

Annie sighed, already sounding tired of the conversation. “I’m fine,” she said shortly. “That’s all you need to know.”

Elijah’s jaw shifted, his eyes narrowing just slightly as he studied her face, trying to find something real under what she was giving him.

“Why you being like this with me?” he asked.

That made her look at him.

Her brows pulled together, confusion mixing with irritation. “I’m not being any way,” she said. “I’m acting normal.”

He scoffed under his breath, turning his head for a second before looking back at her. “That ain’t normal, Annie. You been running from me.”

She rolled her eyes slightly, but didn’t interrupt him.

“And I need to know why,” he continued, his voice steady but firm. “So I can fix it.”

“You don’t have to fix nothing. You don’t have to know anything about me,” she snapped.

“I do,” he said without hesitation. “You been shutting me out. Soon as something get too real, you pull away.”

Annie huffed, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. “You not innocent in this either,” she muttered. “You ain’t all the way right.”

Elijah nodded once,. “Maybe I’m not,” he admitted. “Maybe I don’t say everything I should. Maybe I don’t say it the right way all the time. But I’m trying. And I believe in this. In us.”

Annie’s eyes flickered, but she didn’t say anything.

“I wanna be there for you, but you gotta let me,” he said, softer now, but no less firm.

Her gaze dropped to the ground for a second before she shook her head faintly.

“And You gotta stop running 'cause I’m not gonna push you into nothing you ain’t ready for. I told you that,” he added.

She stayed quiet.

“I’m a patient man, Bunny,” he said. “I waited this long just to take you out. I’ll wait however long it take to really be with you. You stuck with me, 'cause I don’t want nobody else.”

Annie finally looked up at him, her expression not as sharp as before, but still guarded.

“How would I know that?” she asked quietly. “That you wouldn’t be like that?”

Elijah held her gaze, not rushing to answer.

“Your grandma told me everything,” he said after a moment.

Annie’s face shifted instantly, her eyes narrowing just slightly. “She told you what?”

“Enough for me to understand you better,” he said simply.

She looked away again, clearly not knowing how to feel about that.

“I’m not like that, Annie,” he went on. “And you should know that already. I been right here this whole time, waiting on you to see me as more than justsomebody to pass time with.”

Her fingers tightened slightly against her arms. Annie glanced around, like she needed something to ground her, before her eyes came back to him.

“I just…” she started, then stopped, shaking her head lightly. “I don’t know what you want from me.”

Elijah let out a slow breath as he tried to keep his frustration from rising to the surface. It was there, sitting just beneath his calm, but he didn’t let it spill over. He adjusted his grip on the flowers, then really looked at her, like he was done dancing around what he meant.

“I’ma be honest with you,” he said firmly. “I want it all with you. I ain’t talking about just going out, or passing time, or seeing where it go. I mean everything.”

Her breath slowed, like she was bracing herself for what he was about to say.

“I wanna marry you,” he said plainly. “I wanna build you a house that's ours. And I wanna fill it up with all them babies you said you wanted.”

“I said three,” she murmured.

Elijah huffed a quiet breath, a small smile finally breaking through. “Alright,” he said. “Three then.”

Something about that softened her more than anything else.

“I want a life with you, Annie. I wanna be with you in every way there is to be with somebody. You make me feel…” he paused, searching for the right words before shaking his head slightly. “You make me feel something I ain’t never felt before. Not with nobody.”

A visible shiver ran through her, her shoulders pulling in just slightly like she couldn’t help it.

“And I’d do anything for you,” he finished, the words simple but heavy with meaning.

The sounds of the playground faded into the background for Annie, like everything had narrowed down to just him standing there in front of her.

Her eyes dropped for a second, her throat tightening as she tried to gather herself. Then she looked back up at him.

“I’m sorry,” she said quietly. “I get all mixed up when it come to this. I don’t know what I’m doing half the time, and then I get upset that I don’t know…and I just—” she let out a small breath, shaking her head, “I take it out on everybody. And that ain’t fair to you.”

Elijah’s expression softened.

“I wanna be with you too. I do,” she said, the words coming out more certain this time. “I’m sorry for how I been actin'. I’m gonna try to do better.”

Elijah nodded slowly, stepping just a little closer to the fence, the tension between them finally easing.

“Come here,” he said softly.

Annie hesitated for half a second before stepping closer too, right up to the edge of the fence between them.

He reached through just enough to tilt her chin up gently, giving her time to pull away if she wanted to. She didn’t.

Their lips met softly at first, like they were both making sure this was okay. Then it deepened just slightly, not rushed, just sure. From behind Annie, a chorus of little voices broke out almost instantly.

“Ooooohhh!”

“Miss Annie kissing a boy!”

“Ewwww!”

Annie jumped back just a little, her eyes going wide as heat rushed straight to her face. She turned around quickly, pointing toward the playground with a flustered wave of her hand.

“Y’all better go on and play!” she snapped, trying to sound stern, but her embarrassment made it wobble.

The kids just giggled, scattering but still looking back.

Elijah couldn’t help the small smile that pulled at his face as he watched her.

She turned back to him, flushed and trying to regain some composure.

He held her gaze softly.

“I’ll see you after work,” he said.

Annie nodded, her lips pressing together as she tried not to smile too hard.

“Okay,” she said quietly.

He gave her one last look before stepping back from the fence, the flowers still in his hand as he finally turned to head back toward his car.

This time, when Annie looked at him walking away, she didn’t feel like running.

The rest of the day dragged and flew by all at once for her.

She felt lighter than she had been feeling for weeks. Even the way she smiled felt easier, like she wasn’t forcing it anymore.

The children noticed immediately.

“Miss Annie,” one of the girls said, leaning over her desk with a grin that was far too knowing for her age, “ was that your boyfriend?”

Annie quickly turned back to the chalkboard like she hadn’t heard a thing.

“Alright now, open your books,” she said, tapping the board lightly. “We not talking about nothing but this lesson.”

Still, every now and then, a comment would slip out. A look or a whisper. Annie dodged every single one, refusing to give them anything, but the small smile that kept tugging at her lips gave her away anyway.

By the time the final bell rang, she was more than ready to leave. She gathered her things quickly, barely lingering the way she normally might. A couple of teachers tried to catch her for conversation, but she kept it short.

She slid into her car and started the engine. Her hands shifted on the wheel, and she turned the car in the direction of Elijah’s place without a second thought.

Her heart beat just a little faster as she pulled up, smoothing her hands over her dress before stepping out of the car. She walked up to his door and knocked, suddenly aware of the small flutter of nerves building in her chest.

It didn’t take long before the door opened.

Elijah stood there staring at her with a look in his eye that said it all.

“Hey,” he said.

“Hey,” she replied warmly.

He stepped aside without hesitation, letting her in.

Elijah gestured toward the couch, and Annie moved to sit, tucking her legs slightly as she got comfortable. He turned on the television, turning the knob until he found something.

“You hungry?” he asked, glancing over at her.

“A little,” she admitted.

“Alright,” he said, already heading toward the kitchen.

Annie watched him for a moment before turning her attention back to the television. The sounds of Elijah in the kitchen and the low hum of whatever show was on tv, relaxed her. Every now and then, she glanced over at him, watching the way he moved, how easy he looked in his own space.

After a while, he came back with plates in his hands, setting one in front of her before sitting down beside her.

“Thank you,” she said softly.

He nodded once. “Eat.”

They did. Talking here and there, nothing too heavy. Nothing was forced. It just was.

As the evening settled in, Annie’s body slowly started to relax more and more, the weight of the long day catching up with her. Her movements slowed, her voice softer when she spoke, her eyes blinking a little heavier each time.

At some point, without even really thinking about it, she shifted closer and laid her head on his lap.

He looked down at her, but he didn’t move her. He just adjusted slightly so she was comfortable, his hand hovering for a moment before resting lightly against her arm. Within minutes, her breathing evened out and she was asleep.

Elijah watched her for a long moment, taking in the softness of her face, the way she looked when she wasn’t thinking and fighting herself.

Carefully, he reached for the blanket draped over the back of the couch and pulled it over her, making sure she was covered. His hand lingered for a second as he adjusted it. Then he leaned down just slightly and pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead.

“Get some rest, Bunny,” he murmured.

He eased out from under her slowly, making sure not to wake her as he shifted her head onto a pillow. Once she was settled, he stood there for a moment, just looking at her again. Then he turned and walked over to the table. He pulled out a chair, sat down, and reached for a piece of paper and a pen.

He just stared at the blank page. Then he started writing to tell his brother everything.

end notes: sorry for the late update your girl had a time this past weekend

The couple hadn’t been married for very long, but Smoke had convinced himself that he’d loved Annie his entire life, past the point of knowing. He’d let it get into his head that in some far off world, they were lovers who just continuously found their way back to each other no matter the lifetime. Dimensions merged into a million lives where they were happy and healthy and young forever—yet old and wise and surrounded by the beautiful family they’d created through love. He wanted everything with Annie. The good, bad, and ugly.

The man always made sure to keep a smile on her face—especially now that she was pregnant with their first child. Smoke felt like he was born to be a papa. He didn’t have good examples of men in his life, but when he met Annie, he concerned himself with being the best husband and father the world had ever seen. Smoke was completely enamored with her. She had a glow that burned brighter with each day, a smile that warmed the man’s heart and had him tripping over his feet to make sure she had whatever she needed.

However, the timeline for their baby’s birth was slightly murky.

No one was supposed to know that they’d been sneaking around before marriage. No one was supposed to know that they’d been having sex well before people even knew Smoke was courting the woman. While everyone in Clarksdale knew they were only three months into married life, they weren’t aware that Annie was already five months pregnant.

In the early months, it was easier to conceal her pregnancy—her symptoms were minimal, her nose hadn’t spread, her body stayed mostly unchanged—but Annie recently found that her bump was growing larger by the day. Folks attributed her fuller belly to the fact that between her husband and her Grandmama, Annie was always fed good food. Her husband loved to see a smile on her face—so he kept her fed, kept her happy.

Since Annie was a little thing, her Grandmama Gladys made sure she had plenty to eat. She kept her healthy: vegetables from the garden they grew together, freshly butchered meat, fruit they'd find while out in the yard. She never let Annie feel bad for being on the bigger side of things because in her words: Bein' big and happy is better than bein' skinny and miserable.

Carrying this mindset over into the girl's adult life, she hardly let a moment go by without fixing the pregnant woman something to eat. When she knew Annie was home, she’d call the house phone and beckon her to come by for lunch. They’d gossip and cackle and share food while her grandmother gave advice. Then she'd send her on her way with more leftovers that anyone needed, but it proved itself helpful when she'd be craving nothing but her Grandmama's buttermilk pie or sweet peas in the middle of the night.

On Sundays even, her grandmother would invite Annie and Smoke over to do a wellness check on their marriage. Good food, loud laughter, and nights spent with family helped to ease the couple’s worry about how everyone would react when they inevitably found out how far along she really was. But they knew it wouldn’t be easy.

Annie’s Grandpapa Gene had been slower to accept Annie's new life as a married woman with a child on the way. Before he even knew about her lie, he was skeptical of things. He was a man of few words, great wisdom, and strong opinions; and he watched things with a close eye. He noticed their fidgety behavior and how they would looked toward each other before answering a question about being prepared for the baby's birth. But he trusted his granddaughter above all else. He sat back, watched, waited.

He'd also been skeptical of Smoke from the very beginning. The SmokeStack Twins were notorious for the filth they got up to—bootlegging, drinking, cussing, walking around with more women than they needed (though that was mostly the younger twin's game). He didn't know if he could trust the man, but with one good look in his eye (and a few invasive questions to get at the root of things), he could tell how serious Smoke was about their Annie. When he asked the older couple for their granddaughter’s hand in marriage, they both said yes—Gladys with no struggle because she'd already consulted the ancestors when he showed up at Annie's side months back. Gene was slower to comply, but once he did, he still sat back, watched, waited.

For months leading up to the wedding, Smoke continued to prove he was worthy. With minimal experience and assistance, the man had built Annie a small home on some land he’d purchased with her in mind. It had a nice li’l kitchen, a sitting room, bedroom, bathroom, a room for her magic—and a nursery. The land came with a small creek and plenty of room for him to plant some crops for her before spring hit. He did everything in service of her, and Annie appreciated his showing of love. When they arrived home for the first time as Mr. and Mrs. Moore, he carried his wife over the threshold, and after just three months, their joy had expanded tremendously.

Newlywed bliss had befell them.

The only issue was that Annie was five months pregnant.

Her grandparents didn’t play when it came to integrity, dignity, and self-respect. They’d taught their granddaughter those values and had instilled them in her from a very young age. But getting herself pregnant out of wedlock went against what they believed integrity, dignity, and self-respect to be.

As a result, Annie decided it was best to hide just how far along she really was. Two months was just two months.

Right?

~~~~~

It was an early spring morning in Clarksdale, and the sun was beaming strong, the grass was growing tall, and the birds were singing louder than they had all year. Outside, sweet peas were beginning to spring up from the damp, dew-covered soil; and inside, Annie was laid on her side with one hand cradling her growing belly. Over the last five months, she’d found comfort in resting her hand there. It made her feel closer to her baby, and even now as she slept, she couldn’t stop the simple habit.

Beside her was her husband. Smoke laid on his side facing her body—one hand under his head, one hand on her waist, eyes melting at the view of her. It felt like his past, present, and future were all conjoining into one moment—those dimensions flowing behind his eyes whenever he looked at her. They had a good day ahead with plans to visit Annie’s grandparents for Sunday dinner, but for now, he just wanted to enjoy the view of his wife sleeping without a care in the world.

The hand on her waist traveled along her side, moving with the shape of her slow, measured breathing. He took his time with her, and as his eyes trailed from her closed eyelids to her lips to her chest to her waist to her stomach, he couldn’t help himself. Leaning in, Smoke planted a light kiss to her belly. It was a declaration of his love for his wife and his love for their child—whom he couldn’t wait to meet. He couldn’t be more appreciative to Annie for the gift she’d given him: eternal love in the shape of a being they'd created together. Smiling, his lips lingered on her belly, and in tandem, he felt Annie’s breath shift just as her stomach began to flutter.

“You can’t go a moment without kissin’ my belly, can you,” the woman questioned groggily. She smiled through a groan, stretching her limbs and allowing her body to open itself up. Her eyes fluttered, and the first thing she saw was her husband smiling over at her with love in his eyes. “Morning, Papa,” she giggled, cupping the side of his face, holding his grin in her palm.

“Good morning, baby,” he whispered dreamily. He rubbed her belly in slow circles fighting off the urge to retaliate with more kisses. He scoffed playfully at her comment. “Gotta start my day off right by greetin’ my wife and my baby. You got a issue with that?”

“Nah. I think it’s cute,” she chuckled, pulling her husband close. She couldn’t get enough of him in the same way that he couldn’t get enough of her. Something about how attentive he was made her heart jump. She’d heard from friends that when they got pregnant, their men were barely home, seeking refuge from all the bitchin’ and moanin’ and spending nights out doing God-awful. But her Elijah had been there every step of the way, and never once did he make her feel less than because she was with child. If anything, he only showered her with more love than before. She smiled at the thought, stroking the man’s head as he laid it gently atop her belly.

Smoke was astonished. With his ear to her stomach, he could hear their baby moving around, could feel the fluttering at the same time. Never in his life had he felt such joy, and the only time that came close was when he first met Annie. Now they had a whole life built together, and he couldn't want for anything more.

“My baby ready to get the day started, too,” he chuckled at how lively things had gotten in her belly. Moving a hand to her thigh and holding it there, he sighed dreamily.

Annie laughed the sleep right out of her throat at that, unable to hold it in any longer. Her husband, the man who'd made his life what it was by doing dirt, was staring off into space starry-eyed and in love. He was a rough and tumble man, but she was always a soft spot for him to land, to be open, to commit his own self to softness in a way he'd never been afforded before.

“It’s cause you got us on a schedule,” she breathed, hand in his hair now. “You make us get nine hours of sleep. You wake us up to kisses and foot rubs. Then you make us a big breakfast. We spoiled,” she finished thoughtfully. Her eyes were on the ceiling before looking out the window. He'd left the window open for her the night before because he knew she loved the fresh morning air. The curtains were blowing softly as the wind poured in, and the sound of morning doves mingled with the sound of their love.

“Y’all deserve it,” Smoke proclaimed, hand tightening on her thigh for emphasis. “You deserve to feel good, Mama,” he added after a beat, sunlight beaming across the hardwood floors.

Annie hummed in recognition, sighing deeply to let the words breath within her. Her husband knew she had a hard time understanding that fact, so he always reminded her of it. Of how much he loved her. Of how much he wanted to give her the world. Of how she deserved the best of the best.

“You ready for supper tonight,” the woman asked over her bowl of grits, pausing to watch as her husband's face turned sour. He'd tried not to let it show, but she couldn't help but to pick up on those fine details. They knew each other too deeply, and without him even speaking, she knew what he'd say.

“As ready as I’ll ever be to lie to somebody face,” Smoke grumbled out. He cleared his throat and sat back in his chair, jaw twitching when the words were said. Smoke was not a liar, and he hated the thought of doing so. His brother was the twin that flourished in that regard, swindling people out of their entire lives, but Smoke was the one who would rather stay quiet than ever tell a fable.

“‘Lijah,” Annie huffed, rolling her eyes before grabbing ahold of her spoon. She understood his struggle because out of all the things he'd done in life, lying is where he drew the line. She was asking a lot from him, and she knew he would do anything she told him to. She didn't take his loyalty for granted, but her stress was beginning to cloud her judgment.

“I ain’t placin’ no blame,” he spoke tiredly, eyes soft and exhausted. He shrugged his shoulders, swallowed his hatred for telling tales because Annie was his priority. “We gotta do what we gotta do,” he admitted sorrowfully, “but they’re gonna catch on soon enough, baby.”

Annie's grandparents were not stupid people. Grandmama Gladys had taken a keen interest in midwifery ages ago, so she knew the stages pregnant women went through. That on top of her spiritual leanings made for a woman who stood on business about everything. Grandpapa Gene was a man after Smoke's own heart. He was quiet. He watched—hunted down the parts of people they wanted to keep secret. He didn't trust easily, and his doubt for others had been a strong suit.

Smoke knew this wouldn’t play out in their favor, but his wife wouldn't listen to reason.

“No, they won’t,” Annie continued to deny, refusing to look at the facts. “It’s just two months,” she insisted, but every time she remembered how far along she was supposed to be, her belief that everything would be okay began to crumble. Her husband sat back in his chair, eyes on her, ready to usher them through whatever fire he had to.

The day had aged beautifully. While the morning had been bright and shining, the sun was now beginning to kiss the horizon line, throwing rays of golden light across wide open fields. The scent of late afternoon lingered faintly, and as the couple sat at the dinner table with two of their elders, they foolishly thought they were in the clear.

Grandmama Gladys and Grandpapa Gene sat directly across from them, staring the newlyweds down with a scrutinizing eye. And Annie and Smoke were blissfully unaware. The young woman was laughing about something her friend had told her earlier in the week, and Smoke was enamored by the way the smile took over her face—bright, honest, carefree. He’d heard the story more than once, but he couldn’t get enough of her face when she told it.

The comment Pearline had made the last time she saw her seemed silly now. It was something about being ready to see how their baby would turn out because between the smoldering, sweet fire behind Annie’s eyes and the intensity behind Smoke’s, their baby was gonna be a thing to behold. And Annie couldn’t even deny the statement.

The pregnant woman loved to think about how she and her husband’s qualities would marry each other in that way—the traits their baby would possess and how they would become a fully realized being. She wanted the baby to have Elijah’s eyes while he wanted the opposite. She wanted the baby to have his strength, but Annie was the strongest person he’d ever known. That was a quality he wanted for their child—along with Annie’s loving heart, rooted soul, and hearted determination.

His attention trailed the length of her face, chest flushing when her normally dense voice rose in amusement. He looked like a lovesick fool, but he didn’t care. There was only one person who he allowed to get him like this, and he was man enough to let it be known.

They were each lost in their own world, but across the table, the elder couple met each other’s gaze. Their eyes said everything they needed to.

“Annie, baby,” her grandmother’s silk-like voice churned. It came out smooth, like a cool drink of water on a hot day, but Annie heard it. That edge. That concern. That accusation that was fighting against her love for the girl to fall out of her mouth. The pregnant woman’s smile fell in an instant, and almost like a child again, she reverted into herself. Her fingers pulled at each other, and she gave her hands her undivided attention. She always hated that tone of voice because when she was little, it never failed to result in some form of punishment.

“Sweetheart,” the woman tried again. “If you don’t look at me, it’s gon’ be a problem.”

Smoke sat back, watched, waited.

He’d spent a lot of time with Annie and Grandmama Gladys. He’d even spent time with the older woman without his wife around. But he had never seen or felt anything like this. The room was charged now, something in the air tugging in all directions and making it hard to breathe. His hand hovered above Annie’s working fingers, worried but unsure of what she needed most. He could sense her fear, could see it written across her face. The anger seeping off of the couple across the table did nothing to help it.

“Your grandmother is talkin’ to you, Anne,” the woman’s grandfather spoke up for the first time in a long while. “Have some sense.” His tone was sharp, striking more fear in her heart than she knew how to deal with. She could perfectly picture his face: Forehead wrinkled, frown deeply set, eyebrows tight. But her eyes stayed on her hands.

She hadn’t seen that look of his in a long time because she hated disappointing her grandparents—Grandpapa Gene in particular. The man was stern and quiet, but with her, he was always as sweet as could be—until she disobeyed his wife’s instruction.

“S-Sorry,” Smoke stuttered out, grabbing a napkin in shaky hands. He wet it just a little with water from his cup before turning to his wife. “I don’t think she’s feelin’ very well right now.” Turning her head in his direction, Smoke locked his trembling eyes on hers. He dabbed the wet napkin against her forehead, cooling her rising body temperature as he felt his own increase exponentially. Fear was the only thing he felt. For Annie. For himself. For the baby.

He tried to get through to her by looking deeply into her eyes, but all he could find was her fright.

“She’ll be fine,” Grandmama Gladys crooned, sitting against the back of her chair and crossing her arms under her chest. She shook her head in disbelief, lips pressing into a line. “It’s that lie comin’ up out of her,” she finished, looking satisfied and annoyed at the same time.

With the hand still on Annie’s face, Smoke turned toward her grandmother, eyes wide, expression shaky and confused. His mind swirled as he attempted to decipher the words and the situation all at once. In front of him sat two heated elders who knew more about the world than he'd ever seen, but to the left was his wife—frozen in some state of distress.

He shook his head from side to side, words coming up broken and half-baked—yet full of concern.

“You did a spell on her?”

Smoke knew better.

Being with Annie came with a whole new set of rules on how to maneuver the topic of hoodoo, and flat out asking something that stupid? Oh, he’d be in for it.

Grandmama Gladys hardly worked root on family unless someone was ill, in dire need, or had been hit by a nasty root of someone else’s doing. She prayed over them, but she didn’t use her power to do bad. Though, all Smoke could focus on was his wife being stuck in fear, not moving, barely breathing, holding herself together by the hand she’d placed on his wrist. He didn’t care about being uncouth or out of order. He just needed his wife better.

“I ain’t do no magic, boy,” the woman scoffed, disgusted by the accusation of harm. She sat up sharply, livid but still trying to remain understanding of the situation. But the young man was beginning to cross a line.

Beside her, Gene's eyes narrowed, drifting from his granddaughter's terrified form with sympathy to Smoke's with distaste. He did not play when it came to his wife, but until he needed to jump in, he was going to watch. He trusted her that much.

The last time Gladys worked a root for Annie, it had been at the top of her pregnancy—month one out of five. At that time, Annie wasn’t married yet, and she was still living with her grandparents. Gladys knew everything that happened under her roof, so when she dreamt of fishes for a week straight, she understood what she was being told. She worked, prayed, consulted the ancestors. She made it so that Annie would have a smooth pregnancy and a healthy child, but the one thing she couldn’t get in the way of was the woman’s lies.

“That’s her guilt,” her grandmother sighed roughly, looking hurt but putting on a brave face. “Ain’t my doin’. She fightin’ her mind, and you are, too.”

Heaving a shaking breath, confusion made itself home within Smoke's forehead. He looked between the couple—to Gladys who was squinting her eye and then back to the man who was reading him without even speaking a word.

Grandpapa Gene was a solid man. He took up space, became overbearing. He’d waited, and now things were playing out just the way he knew they would. He wasn’t as in tune spiritually as his wife, but he’d picked up on things. The way Annie was more fatigued than usual. The way Smoke came around more often in those two months before the wedding. The way he’d pull her closer, hold her more delicately. He’d been the same way himself with all of he and Gladys’ children, and that’s the one reason why he didn’t completely flip his lid when he his observations pointed in that direction.

The pair saw themselves in the young couple, and all they wanted was for them to be honest and own up to their doing. But the lies continued to pour from the mouth of the young man.

“We ain’t—She…I’m not guilty about anything,” Smoke fought to even get the words out, rushing through them to get his lie across. “And she ain’t lyin’!”

“Sweetheart,” the older woman pushed again. She held a hand up, trying her best to calm his wayward spirit, but it did nothing to fight against the duty he had to his wife.

“No,” he spat back, losing his resolve, mind spinning fast, volume raising like he had no home training. “I said she ain’t!”

“Son,” Gene spoke harshly. He sat tall in his chair, staring Smoke down in a way that even unsettled the wild side of him. Annie had been locked away in her mind, but her grandfather’s voice carried enough weight to pull her out of the self-made prison. Her eyes fluttered, tears beginning to spill. Her Elijah’s attention wasn’t on her anymore. He was in a staring contest with her grandfather, both of the men too similar, both of the men unwilling to cave. “You ain’t finna talk to my wife with that bass,” he grumbled solidly. “I don’t like lies or the people who tell ‘em, but I know you only tryin’ to do right by my grandchild and y’all family in tellin’ ‘em. But do not expect me to be fine with you sittin’ in my face, under my roof, with this foolishness any longer.”

The four of them sat there, tension pulling taut and just on the verge of reaching its precipice.

Smoke wasn’t able to say a thing because all his life, he’d rather stay quiet before lying with a straight face. He couldn’t do it, and that’s why he was crumbling right now.

Annie was crumbling, too. Face wet with emotion, she looked over at the two people who knew her from the time she was born into this world. She knew how they felt about secrets and dishonesty. She knew how they felt about integrity, dignity, and self-respect, and right now, she was bringing dishonor into their home. With Smoke sitting at her side, she also couldn’t deny how horrible of a situation she’d put him in. He was never going to say no to her, and she used that to do harm—whether she meant to or not.

“Mama and Papa,” she cried, throat raw as she pushed through her tears. “I’m so sorry.” She had to apologize. Had to let them know that she was sorry for everything she’d done before confirming what they clearly already knew. Squeezing her husband’s hand, she relinquished herself. “I—I’m five months pregnant. Not three months like I been tellin’ you and everybody else. I got pregnant before the wedding.”

Once the truth was spoken, a weight was lifted.

Annie’s tears weren’t falling softly now. They were full on sobs—five months of a secret truth ridding itself from her body. She had to expel it, had to free herself from the confusion it had settled over her body. She should have been lucky that the lie hadn’t manifested itself physically. She was fine and her baby was fine. But her crying only increased her husband’s stress.

His hands went to her forearms as the woman held her palms to her eyes. He looked at her wide-eyed and scared because Smoke had been so intentional in keeping Annie happy the entire pregnancy that she hardly had a reason to cry. Sometimes there’d be the occasional tear of frustration or joy even—but this? He didn’t know what to do or how to help her, and he still didn’t realize that he, too, had some things to release—or else they'd come back to bite later.

Annie fell into him, tears wetting his shirt at the collar, but he held her close, moved as near to her as he could, whispered words into her ear. He reminded her that she was safe, that everyone around her loved her, that she just needed to breath. Through his own shakiness, he helped her through hers.

The woman’s grandparents saw it all, and they couldn’t deny the fact that it made their minds even more certain of the fact that Smoke Moore was perfect for their girl. Getting the chance to witness his outpouring of love settled a lot of things, and even though they were upset about the lies, they were glad that it was him.

He’d fully proven himself as a partner who would be there with her through storms and times of sun. He loved her deeply—just as she loved him.

Grandpapa Gene moved his chair in his wife’s direction, reaching for her hand and interlacing their fingers. Their eyes met, and a smile graced the stoney man’s face. The sigh he expelled loosened the air just enough for his words to be welcomed.

“We want the best for you, sweetheart,” he spoke, rumbling voice working to calm the woman’s ache just a bit more. Her sobs were lighter now—less weighted. Smoke turned his head toward the man, and as the two men’s eyes spoke without words, Gene continued. “You know what we taught you. You know how we feel. But if you happy, we ain’t got a choice but to be.”

It was the truth. They’d raised Annie up since a li’l bitty thing, but never had they imposed too much of their own thoughts onto her. They gave her the tools she needed to be a strong woman on her own, and she was proving that every day. Her lies—while unsavory—didn’t change the fact that they loved her more than life itself. And they certainly didn’t change the fact that she was an incredible person, wife, and mother.

The young couple left dinner with their minds in two separate places.

Annie’s mind was light. Her guilt had shedded itself, soul laid bare at the kitchen table. After her confession, she began to feel renewed and whole again. Absentmindedly, her hand cradled her belly, and she thanked the ancestors for the beautiful gift of life alongside her Elijah.

The man, however, was battling something deep.

Smoke hated lying—absolutely despised doing it. And his negative attitude towards it had manifested into harsh, biting words. When he'd snapped at Gladys, something took shape in the form of guilt and resentment. He hated himself, hated the man he had become. The one who let his emotions run wild and uncontrolled, even though he'd meant no harm. At home, he tried to keep up his brave face. He didn't slip in the things he did for Annie. He woke her up with a kiss to the belly or a foot rub. He talked to his baby before running off to the kitchen to fix breakfast. He was still that same perfect husband who worked hard on the job and at home—but Annie noticed the change.

He was shorter with her. He didn't linger as long or talk to her absentmindedly as much. He was sweet—always—but less so now as she could tell his mind was swirling at all hours of the day. The pregnant woman would watch him from afar. As he bathed or dressed or cooked or rubbed her feet or worked on the baby's nursery. He was hardly there anymore in some of the ways that mattered most.

His shortness began to influence her own quiet nature, and the home began to swirl in confusion beneath the surface.

~~~~~

Things reached a precipice toward the end of spring. The season had set in—hot, humid, breathing with new growth spurred on by sun and storm.

Smoke had grown particularly invested in building a rocking chair for the nursery. Every evening, he was outside. Through rain. Through hail. Through blazing sun. He worked at it, testing the chair's momentum and tossing it to the scrap pile when he didn't feel it was good enough for his wife and child.

He was hyper-fixated on the object as a way to deal with his own guilt. And by deal with—I mean push down so far that he was almost able to convince himself that he wasn't still thinking about the lies that he told. That he wasn't concerned with his growing resentment toward himself. That he wasn't terrified by the looks Annie's grandparents gave him like their pity could see through every negative thought he had of himself.

He didn't know what to do or how to cope, so he built that rocking chair. Over. And over. And over again.

Annie watched from the screen door as her husband swung the rubber mallet through the air. It whipped fast, stinging the air on its descent. He'd taken to an interlocking wood design on his most recent attempt at the chair. He fit the pieces together with nothing but wood joints—no nails, no screws, no glue. And the woman had somehow falsely convinced herself that this would be his final attempt, but when the mallet landed one last time and the man took a seat in the rocker, she could see the dissatisfaction on his face.

"'Lijah," she called from the now open door. Her voice was soft yet firm, attempting to interject before he could destroy his latest masterpiece, and when his eyes fell upon hers, she wanted to cry. His face was hard. Eyes wet. Soul open—crushed.

Her hand drifted to her belly in that comforting way. Her baby was unsettled, feeling the stirred energy between the two parents.

"How long you gon' be out here," Annie quipped. She wanted nothing more than to go out there and hug him, but uncertainty ruled. He hadn't been the same in so long. She knew he was hurting, but she couldn't for the life of her figure out how to tackle the situation.

"Soon, baby," he answered back. Stress was held up in his shoulders, back slightly hunched. Then he went back to banging at the chair, fixing what he thought was a slight bend in the joint. He stayed short with her, never not sweet—but always short.

~~~~~

"I don't know what to do, Grandmama," the pregnant women exhaled deeply. The warm breath carried itself throughout her entire body, traveling an exhausted heat through her system. She was tired, nearly seven months pregnant now with a husband that seemed to get sadder by the day. She'd consulted her ancestors, and they spoke back—gentle as always, stern like she needed. She'd played a huge part in her husband's current struggles, but she'd tried.

Every night before bed, she'd hold him close. His head would mold itself to her chest or her stomach, and she'd run a hand down the back of his head and whisper real soft. She'd urge him to talk to her. She'd apologize for influencing his lies because she knew that's where all of this had started. But he wouldn't budge for anything.

He'd always say something along the lines of I'm fine or It's not a big deal or I just need sleep, but in the morning, she'd attempt the conversation again—and nothing.

She couldn't get through, and for the two of them, that was something completely unheard of. They always moved in tandem, in ease, in knowing.

She sat at her grandmother's kitchen table, watching with glassy eyes as the older woman prepared lunch for her: salt meat, pinto beans, cornbread, and flesh-sliced tomato.

Annie was hungry and frustrated and her feet hurt and her shoulders ached and all she wanted was for Elijah to talk to her.

Across the room, Grandmama Gladys hummed along to the woman's growing concerns. She listened intently, formulating her response based off of years of life spent learning and trying and doing. By the time the plate of food was sat in front of the young woman, her grandmother was ready to dispel her wisdom.

"Elijah is a troubled soul," she whispered, so low that her voice did little to rustle the air. The legs of the wooden chair scraped the floor as she sat down, but her eyes remained on her granddaughter who sat with big, round, wet eyes. "You always knew he had a mess of weight on his heart," she continued. "You just now gettin' a chance to experience it in real time. He ain't been the same since that night here in this kitchen." And when she said the words, she looked around, pointing toward the chair he'd been sat in. "I 'spect raisin' his voice at me threw him for a loop. And your Grandpapa ain't make that no better with his no nonsense voice."

Annie shook her head, pouted lightly.

"'Lijah be so worried about turnin' out like his daddy," Annie remarked, stuffing her mouth with food to cover up the sob she wanted to let out. "He's one of the best men I've ever known though."

"Just a slip up is all," her grandmother hummed, sitting back in her seat. Her eyes drifted away thoughtfully, being pulled in the direction she knew her own husband was in—sat on the front porch in his favorite chair, whittling away at some piece of wood for Annie and Elijah's baby. She smiled. "He's a lot like Gene in that way," she giggled, heart swelling.

"What you mean?"

The question was small when it left the confines of her mouth. She always transformed into that meek little girl in times of complicated emotion. Her grandmother being there only heightened that fact. The older woman’s gaze drifted—hearty and controlled.

"Your grandfather always thought he'd turn out just like his folks. That he'd be evil and hateful and down right cruel like the men in his bloodline." She sighed thoughtfully, stirring memories of old, memories that always lingered close enough to touch. Gladys shrugged her shoulders, folded her hands atop her stomach to rest. "Only good men worry 'bout if they're doin' good enough. Only good men keep goin' when obstacles pop up. He still doin' right by you?"

"Every day," Annie answered without any hesitation because her husband hadn’t shifted from his role in the home too much at all. He woke her up the same way. Fed her just as much. Fixed her tub water. Combed her hair. Rubbed at her aching body. Held her when she slept. Said his I love you’s with just as much care as always.

Gladys hummed at that.

She nodded her head, letting that truth sink in.

Then she smiled.

"I'll handle it," she responded, standing from her seat swiftly. She moved with such ease that it caused the younger woman’s head to snap at attention. The determination in her grandmother’s voice was striking, commanding, awe-inspiring—but it made her heart beat fast. The older woman was at the house phone just off the kitchen in a flash of a second. Yellow cords swung into the wall, and with a turn of her finger, the number she had memorized by heart was rotated into the device.

"What you doin'," Annie yelped, pulse skyrocketing.

"Handlin' it," the older woman confirmed with the phone to her ear.

She gave Annie no leeway to interject. She left absolutely no room for discussion. If Grandmama Gladys wanted to handle something, it was going to be handled—no matter what anyone had to say about it.

~~~~~

6 o’clock pm.

That was the time Smoke Moore was told to be sat at Grandmama Gladys’ kitchen table. When her voice had beamed down into the house phone, it wasn't harsh like he had expected it to be after he realized who had called the small home. It was stern—yes—but in a comforting we need to have a come to Jesus type of way. For weeks, he'd been sitting idle, terrified of having a one on one with her or her husband after his outburst. But she always welcomed him into her home for those Sunday dinners.

The sky was turning orange when he bounded up those steps. It would have made it ten times better if Annie was there with him, but Gladys only wanted to see him tonight. Annie was probably across town cutting up with her friends by now, but Smoke felt like he was walking into a slaughter house.

Emotions swirled as he stepped closer. His chest caved as he realized he'd be coming face to face with one of his worse nightmares. He loved Annie's grandparents like they were his own, but he felt that his outburst had created a rift. He felt that he had ruined something that couldn't be fixed—certainly not with ease, and he wasn't one to talk himself out of difficult situations.

The tightness in Gladys' face. The heft in Gene's voice. The lightness of Annie's spirit before his guilt began to weigh on her as well. It all worked to make the man feel terribly worse about his lies and how they had manifested in his relationships. His daddy was a liar, had tore through the entire Delta with his tall tales and fables. He drank and cheated and looted and schemed to get the things he wanted. The idea of being that way disgusted Smoke, and the way he'd responded to the elder woman was only adding to his mind's downward spiral.

The home had been a haven of perfect energy and light, but now, he felt he'd brought an evil upon it. An evil that came from his daddy and his daddy’s daddy and every other foul man before him. Smoke couldn't see a world where Gladys or Gene ever forgave him, but as he stepped into the home, he grew determined to make a way through, even if it came at the expense of his ego.

“Thought I’d have to hunt ya’ down,” the older woman chuckled as she eyed the young man striding through her home. Her back had been to him as she finished stirring a pitcher of sweet tea, but she felt that quiet, piercing energy spiraling through the air before he even made it to the door. Her eyebrow raised as she pointed toward the kitchen table. “Sit.”

Smoke moved with a purpose to him. His heart grew in worry because her tone left no room for him to go against her command, but when he saw the soft smile on her face, he exhaled a breath that had been held up in his lungs all afternoon.

“You know I’ll come runnin’ if you send for me,” he responded, settling into the chair. He tried to push through the tightness in his chest, but it was evident in the way he breathed and spoke the words like he was testing whether the connection they'd had still held strong. Gladys let it slide though, humming because Elijah Moore had been a steady presence since she first met him. When he expressed interest in courting their granddaughter, she started sending him on errands to pick up her shipments of herbs. She'd even have him come by to help Gene move something heavy in the backyard when the older man got stubborn about what he was capable of doing at his age.

She had been testing his humility and allegiance to Annie—but Smoke was always there because Annie’s family had become his own. They replaced what he'd never had the opportunity to truly have. He felt their love and care deeply, so any time they needed anything, he'd drop everything to come running.

When a glass of sweet tea was set in front of him, he opened his mouth to utter a kind thank you, soul beginning to rest—but then the back door creaked open. Slow. Aching. Menacing. Grandpapa Gene stepped through into the kitchen, broad shoulders filling out the doorframe, eyes already dragging from Gladys to Smoke.

His steps were steady, and his presence took up space in a way the younger man admired. Gene reached his wife first, bending to where she had now taken a seat of her own. He landed a delicate kiss to her forehead—one that most people would find contradictory to his stern way of being. He lingered there nonetheless—softly and gently. But when he looked back up, his eyes narrowed on Smoke.

“Where my Anne,” he asked bluntly, earning a swat to the arm from his wife. She mumbled something about manners and not being so rude, but he couldn’t care less about that in the moment. Smoke hadn't been back on his own since the night everything reached its breaking point, and while Gladys had obviously told Gene about Smoke coming by, he wanted to test the younger man.

“She hangin’ with Pearline ‘nem,” Smoke cleared his throat, hand gripping his sweating glass. It mirrored what his anxiety was doing to his body, how his forehead had broken out in sweat. He watched with quiet nerves as the older man nodded, crossed to the other side of the table, and took a seat.

His pulse shot up because he thought it would just be him and Grandmama Gladys talking through things. But now Grandpapa Gene was sitting there near-still—watching and waiting for him to bawl his eyes out or break in two or apologize so profusely that the folks in Heaven could hear it.

“I know why you called me over,” Smoke heaved a breath, directing his words to the woman. He spoke them slowly, pushed them out with the thoughtfulness of a man who’d spent days and nights running through that same scenario—because he had. Nearly every hour of the day was spent imagining this scene—or the one where he finally stopped being so short with his wife, where he opened his heart, spoke his fears, made his promises.

When his attention settled, he was relieved to find Gladys’ face to be none-judging in that trustworthy elder sort of way. And even though he was afraid to look Gene’s way, the older man had shifted his watchful eye, ready to take in Smoke’s words in earnest rather than as a competition to bring about his demise.

“I’ve been goin’ through a lot the past few weeks,” Smoke sighed. His biceps flexed before every muscle in his body loosened itself. His shoulders dropped. His jaw unclenched. His forehead drooped in sadness—but things were calmer now, even if slightly. “Things been great with Annie,” he nodded, thinking about the woman he loved most, “but I know my shift has made things difficult for her.

“I just been in my head. Been rethinkin’ things. Been runnin’ lines. Rerunnin’ ‘em when I get things wrong. Been beatin’ myself up.” He took a break, shaking his head in disbelief at himself. “I’ve apologized to you—to both of you a million times in my head, but I don’t think I would have worked up the courage to ever do it if you hadn’t told me to come alone.

“I’m sorry for lyin’ in your home. I disrespected y’all, and that wasn’t right. I’m sorry for raisin’ my voice and gettin’ out of character with you, Mama Gladys. You did nothing to deserve that accusation about spell castin’ or any of my hostile behavior, and I sincerely apologize to you for that. And I’m also sorry for breakin’ the trust we created. Y’all trusted me to do right by Annie, but our child was created out of wedlock. While I’m sorry for leadin’ Annie astray from the values you set or however y’all feel about it, I’m not sorry for the result of our love. I love my family—my wife and my baby. I’m gon’ give them the world. No matter how caught up I get in things. No matter what obstacles stand in my way.”

Winded, the man took a break from his speech. It was the most words he’d spoken in weeks—the most soul-bared he’d ever been with anyone other than his brother and wife. He didn’t usually do any talking about emotions. He handled shit sharply, wielding his power because that was what worked best. But this was different. He had a duty to his family, and he couldn’t do his job if he was concealing his emotions and growing resentment in the process.

The elder couple sat across from him—straight-faced and unblinking.

They were slow to move—quiet. Something in the air felt sacred now—calm.

“You feel better,” Gladys questioned with a slight raise of her eyebrow. Her posture shifted as she leaned her forearms on the table.

“I—I think so,” Smoke quipped. Blinking like he’d finally returned to Earth after floating away for too long. The woman had a slit smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth, amusement her defining characteristic.

“Good,” she hummed in recognition, but then she let out a short exasperated laugh, shaking her head. “You and that granddaughter of mine,” she tsked, turning a knowing look to her husband who met her laugh abruptly. Years flashed behind their eyes, lives they'd lived together that mirrored something similar in the young couple. “You’ll do anything she tells you to, and she'll do the exact same. Even if it costs your own sanity. But you can’t hold stuff in, ‘Lijah. It’ll fester, turn ugly in your heart before you know it.”

“I know you’ll tear up Heaven and Earth for my granddaughter,” Gene chimed in, voice low and words smooth like he was thinking through each of them carefully before he allowed them to become reality. “When you get a good woman, you do everything in your power to be that good man she deserves. Especially when you have to learn it on your own.” Smoke sat up quickly, face falling into that troubled look he was known for, but in his heart, he felt seen. Gene cleared his throat, emotion traveling. “But you are that good man, Elijah,” he breathed. “Annie recognizes that. We recognize that. Wouldn’t have let you nowhere near her if we thought otherwise. We men go through a lot tryin’ to make everybody life perfect. Our women go through a lot. I understand bein’ hard on yourself ‘cause I’ve been there. So if you ever need to talk, I’m here.”

The sincerity in the older man’s voice brought tears to Smoke’s eyes.

For his entire life, all he wanted was someone to be there for him. He had Stack, but he’d never expected more than that. Before he met Annie, and her family by extension, he’d never experienced the love, care, and attention of someone older and wiser. His life had expanded tremendously. It was no longer just Elijah and Elias trying to make shit shake with the little that they had. Now he had Annie and Mama Gladys and Papa Gene and he and his wife’s baby on the way. His life was full in a way it had never been before.

“Y’all mean so much to me,” the man admitted, eyes soft with emotion. He wiped at his tears. He heaved a deep breath. “I hate how I reacted that night. But I’m grateful for y’all’s love and forgiveness.”

“That’s what family’s for,” Grandmama Gladys affirmed. She reached across the table, taking his hand in hers and squeezing tight. “Plus,” her cadence dipped, getting thick in that old creole accent that hadn’t worn off in all her years in the Delta. She squinted at Smoke, leaned in close. “If I wanted to punish ya’, all I’d have to do is work one real nasty root.”

~~~~~

Now that his feelings were out in the open with the older pair, the man was ready to bring his renewed soul back home to his wife.

She was already in bed when he arrived, curled up on his side of the soft mattress because she’d missed him, even if they hadn’t been apart for long. She’d spent the evening with her friends, but the entire time, Elijah stayed on her mind. Annie couldn’t stop worrying about the conversation he was having. She knew how her husband was with his emotions. She knew how her grandmother was about unearthing things. And she wasn’t sure if her grandfather was going to be around, but if he was, that man walked with an air that could suffocate.

She was worried about Smoke, but she knew that he was capable and strong enough to prevail.

As she climbed into the bed earlier—already fed, bathed, and clothed—she made it clear to herself that no matter the outcome, she’d be there for her Elijah. And when he finally arrived—safe and sound—he was no longer the tight-faced man she’d spent the last few weeks watching.

“You survived,” Annie commented bluntly, attempting to have an air of easy hilarity through her worry. In her belly, their child was up and moving wildly. Things had been quiet up until now, so the woman could only guess that the baby sensed the man’s presence.

Smoke crossed the floor with controlled steps. He hummed at her comment, nodding his head before sitting at her side. Hands immediately taking in her body, he spoke.

“How my girls doin’,” he charmed, rubbing her belly gently. He was convinced that their child was a girl, and while Annie would make fun of him for it at any other moment, she refrained this time. “Y’all eat?”

“Yes, Papa,” she cooed, hand going to his jaw. “We’re good.”

“You stay off your feet like I told you,” he pressed again, hoping she hadn’t been walking around downtown Clarksdale like she loved doing. He could already see it now: Annie dragging Pearline up and down the strip looking in every store imaginable—her friend only encouraging it.

“We’re good, ‘Lijah,” she giggled out again. His care amused her because no matter what was going on, Smoke always seemed to be the most concerned about Annie’s wellbeing. He moved to ask another question, but instead of allowing him to speak, she shut him up with a soft and unexpected kiss. When she pulled back, his eyes were glassy, lost in the moment. Her hands held his face comfortably. “You don’t need to worry. I’m happy. Baby’s happy. I just want to know how you’re doin’.”

“Better,” her husband sighed, dropping the weight of his head into her palms. “So much better, baby. Me, Mama Gladys, and Papa Gene talked—”

“All three of y’all,” Annie interrupted for clarification. She moved abruptly to sit up now, back pressed into the headboard as she moved to give him more room to sit. The question was asked quickly, worry mingling with her expressions as she eyed the man—one hand under her stomach the entire time.

“Yeah,” Smoke responded breathlessly like he couldn’t believe it either. He shook his head, dazed while remaining grounded in the cotton fabric of his wife’s nightgown. “It went well. I apologized for my outburst. Thanked them for their care and support. They shared their wisdom.” A smile brought itself to his face at the memory of how the couple opened themselves up to him, trading kind words while recalling some of their own memories. Laughing, the man looked into his wife’s eyes. “I think Papa Gene might like me a li’l bit,” he chuckled with heat rushing to his face, happy beyond belief.

And Annie smiled brightly because Gene was a tough man to please. He was always in search of someone’s lies or shortcomings, but he was different with Elijah. Less harsh. Less of a loose cannon. More concerned with Annie’s wellbeing. Taking over the same softness he normally afforded to his wife and granddaughter.

“Oh, he loves you,” she giggled, thinking back to moments where the men would stand beside one another idly, looking far too similar in their stance. Or when Smoke would help Gene with different projects in the backyard and they’d move in tandem—silent yet knowing exactly where to go next. “He’s like you,” Annie added thoughtfully. “He don’t say much, but he wouldn’t have even entertained a conversation if he didn’t care deeply for you. Mama too. She thinks very highly of the man you are.” The truth made the pregnant woman’s heart ache. Her face crumbled, pout setting deep and eyes growing wet. “I’m sorry for makin’ you lie,” she whispered, clearing her throat to push away the tears and stand firm in her apology.

“Annie,” Smoke sighed exasperatedly. He moved up the bed, trying desperately to get closer, but the woman held a hand between them.

“Nah. I knew it was wrong,” she pressed, growing frustrated with herself. “I knew it would’ve been better to just come clean, but I let fear take over. And I didn’t think about how that would affect you nearly enough.”

Her husband let out a shaky breath, one that was full of the exhaustion he'd been holding onto for far too long. Annie had apologized before, but his mind was so clouded that he wouldn't let the words penetrate his heart. Now, he nodded along as she continued to pour into him, and when he was ready, he responded with his own apology.

“I’m sorry for bein’ so quiet and distant lately. I been in my head, tryin’ to sort through so many things about the man I am and the husband I am and the father I wanna be. I was worried about my shortcomings, I guess, but I’m sorry that made me switch up on you. You ain’t deserve that.”

“Elijah,” Annie huffed, already preparing to protest his statement. “You are the perfect man for me,” she affirmed. “You’re carin’ and strong and quiet when you need to be but loud with your love no matter what’s goin’ on. You love me and our baby, and you are gonna be an incredible father.” Her hand swiped her belly, and when she felt a kick to her right side, she smiled widely. A hand reached for Smoke's, placing it over that exact spot. “I think baby girl knows that, too, ‘cause she been up and movin’ since you got home,” Annie flattered, and her husband just sat in awe.

Never once had Smoke stopped feeling immense adoration for his wife. When he woke up beside her or helped her dress or assisted her into the car, love always surrounded him. But now, especially, his heart was beaming, and behind his eyes, he saw all those lifetimes he'd lived with her, every dimension where they were perfect and happy and old and young and in love all at once.

Their baby was kicking his palm, nudging him with a force he found endearing, but then his face dropped smoothly.

“You said baby girl,” the man croaked, posture straightening an inch. He watched as a hand came up to Annie's face to cover her grin, and before she answered back with a hum of affirmation, she cleared her throat and put on as straight a face as she could muster. “So you really think she’s a girl,” he tried once more, breathing light and airy while thinking about what his life would be like just two months from now.

“I think,” she started smoothly, a hand on his chest, “whatever we’re havin’, our baby is gonna be loved and taken care of from so many angles.”

And he couldn't deny that. Because between him, Annie, Stack, Gladys, Gene, and the host of friends and family they had, their baby was gonna be overflowing with enough love to last a million lifetimes.

~~~~~

six months later

The rocking chair creaked against the wooden floor, forward and back in a steady momentum meant to soothe souls. A few feet away, curtains the color of the sky flared dreamily. It was now summer, a Sunday, and the windows were almost always open—propped with a book or whatever was nearby. As the mother rocked her baby into sleep, the humid wind reached her soul. It reminded her of similar afternoons with her grandmother as a child. She hummed a tune the older woman taught her, and across the room, her husband filled the doorframe.

A smile reached his face as he watched his two greatest loves, and when the woman’s bright eyes met his, his pulse skipped a beat.

“We missed you, Papa,” she crooned, pouting playfully because he hadn’t been gone for long. He’d spent the morning out in the yard, harvesting the crops he planted for her earlier in spring—sweet peas, carrots, potatoes. But he was back now, freshly washed, and ready to spend time with his family.

“I’m sorry, Mama,” he purred, moving into the room. Without needing to discuss a thing, the woman rose from her seat, passing the restless baby into his large arms. The soft muscles swallowed the child, allowing them to nestle in the comforting hold. “She looks more like you every day,” he smiled down at his daughter. She grabbed ahold of his shirt, chewing on her fist with the other. “These eyes,” he added breathily. His fingers went featherlight against her soft curls, and Annie just shook her head amused.

“She got your nose though,” the woman pressed. She leaned forward to plant a kiss to her husband’s cheek. She felt the shift of his smile under her lips. “And them dimples,” she chuckled, poking his face and successfully pulling a small laugh from his throat.

“You make me feel like Heaven,” Smoke sighed. He moved his eyes away from the baby girl whose body had gone slack—sleep overtaking her overly-tired form. He faced his wife, sincerity in his gaze. “I couldn’t have asked for a better life,” he declared, cadence slow and falling in that uniquely Southern way.

“Me neither, baby,” Annie smiled softly, voice matching his as she eased her words out carefully. The baby was sleeping, and as they watched her, everything truly set itself into place.

They were happy, healthy, free of guilt and resentment. The man was open. The woman was mindful.

Later, they'd be having dinner with Annie's grandparents, but for now, they were together—without a worry in their minds.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

word count: ~10,100

a/n: i need feedback on this one fr cause i just don't knowww. i think since it jumps around between scenes it just feel incomplete. idk but tell me what y'all think!!

taglist: comment HERE to be added!

The entire White House was on edge.

Anxiety coursed through everyone’s veins.

Fear settled into their hearts.

Exhaustion made itself one with their bodies.

The president had been on one as usual, dictating the vibe of every person who worked beneath her whether she intended to or not. The woman was known widely as being Type A and extremely high strung. While she was a truly considerate person, she still took almost everything in life seriously. It was how she was able to achieve a position such as the one she’d found herself in. No matter how good things were going, she left a perpetual state of fear over the building, a need to do better and be better. Improvement was necessary. Everyone was expected to be on their Ps and Qs. Everyone needed to be ready for whatever came their way.

Yesterday, they received the public’s approval rating, and while it should have been cause to celebrate because her constituents approved of her at 73%, the woman couldn’t let go of that other 27%. She thought it was beneath her, and in her mind, she knew that she could gain more of the country's approval. She’d only been in office for one year, but she’d made a lot of changes, and had perfectly woven herself into American society. She’d been told that it was impossible, that she’d end up like any other woman or Black person who had previously attempted to make history. But this was a new era.

The president paced the width of her office, leaving indents from her heels on the carpet behind her desk. The structured navy blue skirt brushed her knees, providing her just enough movement while still keeping her both professional and feminine. The white roll-neck sweater provided her warmth in the drafty room. And the navy suit jacket topped the look off—padded shoulders, oversized fit.

She was the picture of authority and uprightness, but her unstable energy was wafting onto every person in the room.

“I know somebody has a goddamn idea,” the woman spat, throwing eyes at every man and woman in the room. The sound of clipboards, notepads, and pens filled the space. Nervous coughs, quiet mutterings, and fearful thoughts built the energy. President Annie Laveau had hand-crafted her team of the best advisors, interns, and confidants. When she needed something, they were always there, and right now, she needed someone to put their brain to work and come up with an idea for how to raise her approval rating. But there didn't seem like much that could be improved. She’d done everything possible. Every campaign promise had been met or was swiftly on its way to completion. She was one with the American people, fulfilling their needs, making society livable—enjoyable. But she couldn’t crack that last thirty or so percent for the life of her.

She cocked her neck to the side, craned her head around the room.

But all their mouths remained shut, eyes cast down.

“Um—M-Mrs. President,” an intern croaked out from behind a row of trusted officials. In terror, everyone’s eyes grew large despite the multiple attempts to quell the immediate shock. Bodies turned in the direction her name had come from, and as the intern stood to full height, they all sent prayers up for him. He cleared his throat, stepping forward once with shaky feet, speaking when she directed him to with a raise of her brow. “I just think the American people weren’t ready for a Black woman president. You keep trying to appeal to people who never wanted you in this role to begin with. I-I think we all have to be okay with the fact that that last 30% isn’t going to move in your favor.” He cleared his throat, swallowed his anxiety, and spoke one last sentence as clearly as he could muster. “They will never be satisfied.”

The room fell to a hush.

Murmurs rose octaves and eyes bounced between the gusty intern and the affronted president.

When it came to speaking with President Laveau, it was always best to be upfront. She didn't appreciate people beating around the bush or holding up her time by being apprehensive, but this was downright disrespectful. She’d heard the criticism before—far too often to take it from someone so beneath her. Everyone held their breath when they saw her hand clench into a fist at her side. Apprehensively, they watched as the woman’s jaw stiffened, face taut.

“If the American people did not want me,” she offered roughly, stepping forward as the words came out steady even in their anger, “I wouldn’t be here in this goddamn office, now would I?” Her voice was cold, tone dead-set on being the only person heard. She’d had people criticize her from the very beginning. Before she could even fix her mouth to say she wanted to be president, people were putting her in her place and telling her that a Black woman couldn’t do it. And the people that trusted that she could achieve the position believed her integrity was on the line, that she’d be swayed by the ways of millionaire money and policy. It grinded her gears and made her feel like absolute shit.

And she wasn't in the mood to be talked down to in her own office.

Annie stared the intern in the eyes, heat rising to her ears and traveling throughout her entire body. She'd known lividity well, and the room could tell she was ready to make this everyone's problem.

But the young man scrambled swiftly, mouth moving and words not coming out just yet. He was terrified—rightfully so. You don't offend a woman that powerful without landing flat on your ass when she decided she was done with you.

Still, he moved to apologize.

“I—I didn’t mean it like that, ma’am! I swea—”

“Everybody out,” she shouted, the command echoing even in the densely carpeted room. She held her hand toward the door, and they all stared in shock, scared to move, scared to stay. When the instruction clicked in, they moved with a quickness, papers rustling as they rose from their seats to shuffle out of the door. She shouted after them, anger morphing into exhaustion. A headache was beginning to move its way up her spine and around to her temples. Her feet were beginning to ache. “And when I call for you again, I want real solutions, not that same bullshit Capital Hill gives me about identity politics!”

The intern was on the latter end of people to leave the room, and when Annie saw his eyes directed at his feet and his back hunched over in shame, she scoffed in disgust. She was so close to firing him, to letting his direct supervisor know of her frustration. But she had larger problems to combat.

As the door slammed shut, the fax machine roared behind her, and the groan she let out was sure to have been heard down the hall.

Measured silence filled the space, and the president could only pray that it would last. She was beyond tired, and a lot of it was her own fault. Annie never gave herself time to rest, hardly even let her victories be celebrated before she moved on to the next task to be accomplished. She had earned a break—even if it was only for a few hours—but she was never going to let herself have it on her own.

“You know you ain’t gotta yell so much, right,” the shadow in the corner spoke up, the force cutting through the tense quiet of the office. His hands were crossed in front of his body. His feet were set wide apart. His shoulders were broad as he stood at attention. If anyone knew the president well, it was him. He'd seen her in every mood since she'd taken this position. Angry. Depressed. Overwhelmed. Joyful. He'd been there through it all: a shadow in the corner that rarely spoke unless spoken to.

The woman was sat behind her desk now, shoes long forgotten to her left side as her scowl deepened at the sound of the man's voice.

“I’ll do whatever the fuck I want to, Elijah,” she reprimanded, practically growling her discontent. She rolled back in her chair, rolled her neck as she watched his jaw clench like he was going to fight her on it. He knew his place, but out of everyone, he was probably her most trusted confidant. He was always there. And knew everything. In the now empty office, she stared at the man who’d been standing vigilant in the corner all night. “Ain’t you supposed to be quiet unless spoken to? A shadow that’s to be seen and not heard? I can yell ‘cause I got shit to yell about!”

“You and I both know that I have no issue speakin’ my mind,” he gritted his teeth. He may have only been the highest secret service official at her side, but the man always spoke his mind when he needed to. He remained silent when the moment called for it, but he never let his grievances die in his throat. Elijah shook his head, disbelief settling beneath his skin as he recalled the scene from just moments ago. “Those people respect you because you’re a damn good president,” he began, voice low in acknowledgment. “They respect you and they trust you, but you can’t talk down to them just because you upset. You get no where when your anger takes over the conversation. You and I both know that.”

He punctuated each word sharply, ensuring she felt the seriousness within them. Patiently, he waited for her response, for more yelling, for anger, for a call for his dismissal, but it never came.

Annie heaved a sigh, sinking back into her chair. The arms held her tired body up. Everything felt like too much. There was the ringing of a corded-phone down the hall, the fax machine was grinding away behind her, her clothes felt too tight. When her eyes got big and round, there was no use in keeping her true emotions concealed for long. The man had seen her like this too many times to count.

“I’m overwhelmed,” she whined out, holding her palms over her eyes to block out the harsh light. Across the room, Elijah was standing firm on the soles of his feet, but his hands were itching to reach for the woman. He tilted his head as her throat became raw in defeat. “There’s just too much going on. I have back-to-back meetings for the next two weeks, trips to neighboring countries I can’t back out of, annoying fucking press conferences to hold. Congress can’t seem to get their shit together. My approval rating keeps teetering in the seventies. And don’t even get me started on that man.”

She huffed loudly, the sound morphing into a groan as she leaned fully back against her chair.

As the itching feeling carried itself down from his hands and to his feet, Elijah finally glided halfway across the room. There was still plenty of space between them, room enough for the feelings to remain at bay, but they were playing a dangerous game by being alone in the first place. He looked over her body: the soft curls framing her face, the fitted sweater brushing over her curves, the slight parting of her thighs as she sank into the chair.

“That man is your husband,” he cleared his throat. He didn’t mean the words to come out aggressively or like he was blaming her for feeling any type of way, but it was the truth. She was a married woman. The President of the United States.

Blinking up at him, she laughed in amusement.

“Oh, please,” she chuckled, face cracking into a smile. “You know exactly how I’m feeling. Need I remind you what things are like in the bedroom? If he ain’t pissing me off by being all whiny about needing attention then he’s pissing me off ‘cause he can’t fuck worry a damn. He always wants to spend time with me, but I’m tasked with all these obligations. And when I do give him a chance, he disappoints me over and over and over again. A woman has needs, Elijah,” she confessed gruffly, fatigue washing over her face again. “I can’t run the damn country with all this pent up energy, and I know he’s upstairs just waiting for me to finish working so he can annoy the hell out of me, but I can’t fuck a man who doesn’t know my body.”

Elijah didn’t speak first. He let her words settle in, let his mind wrap around them. The truth of them. The honesty. The vulnerability.

When he began to nod his head along to the memory of her words still hanging about in the room, his feet had started to finish their walk toward her. He crossed the open space—slowly, languidly. He stood at the corner of her desk.

“I see you,” he whispered, eyes never leaving hers. It had been a while since they’d been this close when no one else was around. He normally stayed at her side in public spaces when the threat of violence came with their job titles. But this wasn’t the public. No one was watching or listening in. No one was waiting by the door. It was late at night now. The woman’s assistants were gone, and the house was beginning to grow quiet around them as maids and chefs and butlers finished their duties.

His soft words were ghosting over her body, warming her skin from the care they exhibited. She hardly felt seen, but Elijah was always there, always watching, always knowing, always seeing her for the woman that she was outside of her marriage to her husband and this country.

The president rose to the man’s height, bare toes spreading through the shagged-rug. When she was just a breath away from him, her body rang out at a need to control herself—but she wanted Elijah more than she wanted anything else. Her husband was upstairs—waiting—and she wanted another man.

Hand resting on his chest, she toyed with the fabric of his suit jacket.

“We don’t have any business doing this again,” she warned, but she made no effort to move back or forward. She remained there—waiting.

“You said that last time,” he grumbled, taking half an inch forward. He watched her breath catch, and only then did he feel accomplished enough to continue. “And the time before that. And the time before that. There’s no use in denyin’ it. You got a need I can fill, and if I can keep you from screamin’ folks heads off and worryin’ yourself half to death, then I’ll do that.”

His lips were close, and each time he opened his mouth, she swore she could feel them ghosting over hers. She didn’t have enough fingers to count how often they’d ended up in a position like this. After meetings. Between press. After a helicopter ride. After saying there’d be no next time. But it was inevitable with them—a risk neither of them were truly concerned about.

If this was to be her scandal, then so be it—but she knew no one would ever find out. Elijah Moore was a professional in all the ways that mattered, a Sinner in all the ways she needed.

Annie reached toward him, fingers wrapping around the back of his neck. She leaned in, pulled him forcefully toward her, and just when he thought she’d finally bless him with the kiss he’d been waiting a whole year for, the president pulled away.

He knew his place, but he couldn’t beat the groan that rose in his throat.

Clambering back against the desk, the woman hoisted herself up on the dense wood. Structured skirt pulled over thick thighs, she raised a sculpted brow at the man’s spent expression. This was always her favorite part: when she denied him a kiss just before allowing him access to the rest of her body.

Her lips parted, sweet sound wrapping around her harsh demand.

“Come eat this pussy then.”

He dropped to his knees quick, always eager to do as the woman told him. His hands gripped her calves, climbed up her shins, rested at her thighs like every other time they’d made themselves home on her body. She moaned when his palms kneaded her inner thighs, grasping at tender and tired skin. And when she sighed in relief, he couldn't keep his mouth from going to her heat.

“Just like that,” Annie groaned, holding onto the desk with one hand and the back of Elijah’s head with the other. They weren’t supposed to be doing this, but damn did it feel good to have her panties thrown to the side while a man who wasn’t her husband fucked her atop her desk in the highest office in the country. She lived for the thrill of it, her ego bleeding out and into the room with each filthy groan he delivered her way. His tongue was helping to replace her earlier anger. He worked through her folds—caressing them through the tremble of her thighs—and when he knew she was ready, his tongue laid flat across her clit.

He’d watched over the president so intently that even in the slightest flutter of her eyes, he could tell she was ready to take a little more of the pleasure. Flat and heavy, his tongue pressed against her, applying pressure without friction. He stayed there without any thought of moving. He was only concerned with watching her stress drip away slowly—intently—as she throbbed against his mouth.

President Laveau sank into the feeling, upper body relying more on her hand that was pressed into the desk. Her head fell back, her eyes fluttered shut, her bottom half clenched—and when she was ready, she tightened her grip on the back of his head and put her hips to work.

“Fuck yeah,” Elijah growled into her briefly, hands moving to her hips to provide her extra stability. He loved when she got like this, when her dominance took over when she needed to reach that first orgasm in exactly the way she wanted to. It made the rest of their time go by in a blur. After she got off on him, her body was always looser, malleable in a way they both adored too much. It usually took her a second to get there, but when she did, she always felt at her best.

The agent’s nails dented her soft flesh, grounding themselves in the side of her ass as she rocked hurriedly. There was no use in being gentle. They both liked it rough.

When Annie bucked her hips forward, Elijah let out a moan. When she rolled her hips to the left, he let out a moan. When she pulled back for just a second, he let out a moan. The man couldn’t keep the sound in, couldn’t hold back the emotion that being forced into a position by the woman made him feel, but Annie wasn’t fucking with that.

With a heavy hand, the president slapped the agent in the back of the head—just once and no where near gentle. And the message landed. He understood what that hit meant: Shut the fuck up. So he listened. He lowered his eyes, pressed his nails in harder, let her use him, and he shut the fuck up.

“Good boy,” she whispered darkly, watching as his eyes clouded over from the praise. When he was at her mercy, her favorite part was to watch everything settle onto his face. He could never hide his emotions from her. He loved being told what to do just as much as he loved taking control. Annie’s hips snapped forward, rhythm unsteady but persistent. She refused to stop even as her thighs ached from the exercise of it all. And as the orgasm rose to its head, she finally felt that breaking that she’d needed for weeks now.

She quivered on the man’s tongue, holding a hand over her lips to reduce the sound of her climax. It hit her hard after weeks of mediocre sex, too much stress, and loads of work to push through. She’d denied what her body needed from Elijah for too long, and tonight, she was gonna let herself have it.

When she calmed down from the height of her orgasm, Elijah was standing above her—ready to pounce, ready to please.

Forcibly, he pulled her panties off, nearly ripping them in two to get her bare for him, he stuffed them in his pants pocket before he dragged them down his legs. Annie sat, eyes half-lidded, on the desk as his pants and boxers pooled at his ankles. Elijah was thick as always, hard from watching her across the room while he acted as a shadow, hard from seeing her yell and rant and threaten, hard from how she'd fed him pussy.

He needed her to feel what she’d done to him. The effect was physical—pounding, throbbing, painful in the most beautiful way. They could never stay away from each other even when they tried. They were like magnets, drawn in the other’s direction by a strong, unseen force.

The agent buried himself fully inside her—rough, heavy, intense. And Annie loved every fluttering second of feeling him so strongly. There was no need for easing in or taking their time. They had to be quick yet intentional, and Elijah wanted to show the woman how to allow herself to be lost.

Pace set quick and furious, he thrusted into her body, knocking the wind from her lungs. He’d pull out to the tip before slamming back in, bottoming out before doing it all over again. It made the president’s head spin in pleasure—an escape she didn’t realize she’d been needing this bad. All of her problems were lifting from her shoulders. She wasn’t concerned about the press or addresses to the country or approval ratings or even her husband who was upstairs waiting for her like a sad puppy. All she could care about was her lead secret service agent giving it to her like he’d spent time learning her body.

And he had.

“Since you like all that damn yellin’,” the man grunted, hoisting her legs up into his arms, “yell at me then.” He taunted her with the snap of his hips and how deep he could reach now that her legs were practically in the air. Daring her to yell, to fight back, he chuckled as her mouth slowly dropped open and her eyes fluttered shut. There was no fight left in her, just pure pleasure guided by their shared lust.

Elijah could feel her pulsing around him every time he bottomed out, and when he went to drag his tip backwards, he felt her grip, heard her whimper.

“Please, ‘Lijah,” President Laveau slurred. She gave up on propping herself up in the desk. Her arms were shaky, growing increasingly more unstable as he stroked her. She let her upper body rest on the cool wood, and as she fell back, the man followed.

“You look so pretty when you let yourself go,” he affirmed, kissing her neck where the sweater did not obstruct his access. He sucked gently to not leave a mark, but his lips still took in all of her and captured her breath. “So pretty when you let that stress go and all them obligations and all them people who expect too much from you. So pretty.” The pounding never stopped—even when he was talking sweet. It only got more intense—changing rhythm, speed, and the force used to pull that sweetness from her.

Annie felt folded up. Her legs were in the man’s arms and he was leaned fully atop her body. After a foolish attempt to try and slow her body’s increasing pleasure, she felt the climax start quickly. It was a full body breaking that started in her stomach and spread throughout her entire body. Her abs clenched beneath where the man was pressed into her chest. Her thighs trembled in his hold. Her chest fluttered in emotion that made her want to cry. Her toes curled up in the air, grasping for sanity. And her jaw quivered, eyes locked tight, eyebrows drew in.

She was succumbing after what felt like an eternity of stress and strain on her body, and Elijah recognized it all. He followed her slow breaking, keeping his pace unchanged but adding to the force bit-by-bit. And after the orgasm finally came to a head, he stuffed a hand over her mouth to muffle the strained cry.

“There you go, baby,” he guided her, watching as she contorted herself as his strokes never seized. “You doin’ so good. Give it all to me.” His own body trembled against hers, and sweat beaded on his forehead and near his collar. He could feel himself growing tired, could feel his own climax rushing forward, but never once did he stop giving her what she needed. He powered through it until she fully recovered from it—then he slowed, and he stopped, and he dragged out to the tip, and he stayed right there.

“Look at you,” he tumbled out, voice thick with a need for release. His eyes trailed her body—hair a mess, fucked out and sweaty.

“Keep goin’,” Annie slurred, intoxicated by the feeling of his head keeping them both right on the edge. The woman was never satisfied. She always needed more, always wanted better. And she always expected him to give it to her. Clenching around him, she drew a sharp moan from his throat, and at her request, Elijah pulled out and turned her over on the desk.

“You want this dick,” he questioned, forcing her face into the hard surface. He pressed so harshly that she could barely move, mouth wide open in shock and enjoyment. Her skirt was tossed over her ass, and each of his hands laid heavy spanks to her backside, waiting for her response.

“Fuck yes,” she moaned, grinding her hips back into his pelvis. She searched for his length, in need of being filled again and knowing he couldn’t resist her for long. He dragged the tip through her folds, drawing the moment out. When he was ready, he reached around and covered her mouth with a hand.

They went for longer than they should’ve, fucked deeper than they had to date. And they got lost. Lost in the pleasure. Lost in the continuous fight for power. Lost in the feeling of finally allowing themselves to give in after another time of saying never again. They lived in the moment and completely blocked the rest of the world from their minds—but they had no idea the situation that was soon to unfold or the consequences they’d have to face for their actions.

Beneath the president’s desk, in a lamp in the far right corner, behind a couch, and tucked in a feathered-pillow, tape recorders captured every sharp moan and honest whimper. Every one of the president’s lustful demands were recorded, and there was no mistaking the sound of the agent’s hand to her ass. There had been an infiltration, and up until now, nothing surprising had gone down in the office. It had been normal every day procedures for weeks. But now, the President of the United States was giving in, fucking the head of the secret service because she just couldn’t operate without it any longer.

Somewhere miles away, people were plotting on the woman’s downfall, hoping this would result in her end.

But Annie and Elijah continued on, blissfully unaware, ruining each other atop her desk while darkness crept in.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

word count: ~4,700

a/n: idk if i dived into the au enough idkk but i enjoyed this a lot! i hope y'all did as well~

taglist: comment HERE to be added!

It had been nearly a month since Smoke returned from his trip and spent nearly the entire night setting Annie's ass straight, and for almost 30 days, things were peaceful. Truly peaceful. Somewhere between being pushed against the side of his Cutlass and being thrown on top of the hood and denied orgasm after orgasm, something clicked into place in the woman's brain. Something had clicked for Smoke, too.

It had gotten too hard for either of them to deny the way they felt. In the haze of everyday life with its expectations and work obligations and shady business deals, they only wanted to end the day with each other.

Smoke had stopped complaining about how far out in the country Annie lived. When he'd show up at her home—now at a more reasonable hour—he'd rev the engine just once, faintly, then he'd climb her steps and knock, lightly. And Annie would answer the door with a soft smile before ushering him in. Sometimes he came with take out. Sometimes she'd cook. But they always wound down together, debriefed their days, held each other close until night had claimed their bodies.

It was easy in a way neither of them knew a relationship could be.

Smoke didn't know what peace was, but Annie had always been that for him—even more so now.

And Annie hadn't known how to accept peace into her life—but she worked on being able to welcome it one day at a time. She wasn't fighting him as much anymore. She would smile politely when he'd slide her money. She would mutter a thank you when he held her hand on busy sidewalks. She would watch as he fixed her Chevy: starting with those new tears, then fine tuning things steadily with his shirt off in her front yard.

He hadn't had to get rough because of her behavior in a long time, and it had eased something in both of them. Now his roughness was something they got to choose—something Annie got to be rewarded. Smoke was sweet when she needed to be fucked real slow and passionate. But when she needed to be reminded of the thrill his danger brought to her system, he was quick to turn rough, quick to whisper filthy words in her ear.

~~~~~

It was night once again, but this time, the wind was swirling something fierce, pulling heat high in the air and cooling it too quickly. The temperatures mixed dangerously—diametrically opposed but wanting so desperately to become one.

A tornado formed before most people had a chance to prepare, and when the older man arrived at the young woman’s home, she was nowhere to be found. Smoke pounded on the door frame, yelled her name through the wood, but it was no use. Her car was gone, and he had absolutely no idea where she could be.

Pacing the length of her porch, he pulled out his flip phone. He clicked her contact with ease—the first one saved—and as it rang, the sky turned a deep purple. He’d come by because she hadn’t been answering her phone. The tornado warning had flashed across his television screen, interrupting the 9 o’clock news, and when he had called her while pacing the length of his living room: Nothing.

The same thing was happening now. He dialed her over and over and over again with no response, and there was no mistaking the panic in his heart. Fear set in, and as the man who practically ran every aspect of his world took a deep breath in, it came out shaky and broken and nearly a sob.

The clouds raged.

The sky shifted through colors.

The wind blew the woman’s wind chimes.

The rain pelted the metal roof.

I gotta do something, the man thought to himself, terrified that his girl was somewhere out there unsafe in the middle of a storm. He bounded down the steps, taking two at a time. Shivering rain hit his hot, stressed skin when he crossed into the yard. Soggy grass squished beneath his feet, and when he swung the driver’s side door of the Cutlass open, he was shook by what he saw out of the corner of his eye. Down at the end of the driveway, he watched that old ass Chevy making its way around the bend. Headlights shaking. Windshield wipers moving rapidly. He couldn’t see the woman just yet, but he could feel her.

Pure shock and disbelief entered his system. His head shook rapidly in his confusion, and he stood there with his car door half-cranked open while watching the Chevy slow its pace. When Annie got out, she bounded toward the porch, windbreaker thrown high over her head because the man had paid to get her hair done just days ago.

And Smoke stood there was his mouth wide open.

Ran hit his body as the storm moved past the little house. It still raged—it raged horridly—but it moved on in the distance now and up toward the city. The sky turned from purple to green then softened into a sea foam blue. When the bewilderment was done running itself through his body, the older man took a look in the direction the young woman disappeared to. The porch was empty—Annie nowhere to be seen, again—but she’d left the front door open for him.

The man turned his body completely, shutting his car door and saving the clean up for another time. The rain was lighter, but as he walked toward the porch, little droplets stuck to his eyelashes. It worked to cool his anger, but it made sure that his confusion lingered. Because even though the storm was passing through, he still didn’t understand why the woman hadn't been home.

Each step he took was weighted.

Each sway of his arms made his heart swell with emotion. Fear. Anger. Confusion. Relief.

He almost didn’t care where she’d been because at least she was safe. But he wasn’t about to let her off that easy. The remnants of the storm dripped off his body—wet and wild with emotion. The first step into the home, however, caused the wild feelings to settle into one sharp direction.

Smoke was a hardy man. He didn’t show fear. Didn’t let it consumed him or rule his thoughts or actions. He thought clearly in everything: when he ran the streets, when deals went bad, when he had to handle a nigga for playing with his money. He always rose to the occasion, but with Annie, he was terrified. When she didn’t answer his banging on the door or his million and one phone calls, his stomach had dropped in fear, and the feeling of that was unsettling.

Wired eyes searched the home for her. The door was shut now, locking out the unpredictability of the outside world and creating a bubble around the pair. Annie came running out of one of the back rooms, warm towels in her hands and a pep in her step.

“I’m so sorry,” her words tumbled out, mouth moving miles a minute as she apologized while reprimanding him about being out in that rain. She shook her head, ran her eyes all over him as she toweled his skin dry, but her eyes never met his. Her nimble fingers drifted to his clothes next in an effort to get him out of the wet fabrics. They clung to him—tight at his biceps and around his thighs. She could see every fine detail that she loved about him most. The plains of his chest. The delicate shape of his stomach. The soft bulge in his pants.

Annie’s fingers grew quick as she fought to quiet her brain. She was on a mission to get this man out of his wet clothes not ogle him. Her fingers fumbled with buttons and zippers and clothes too heavy now that water had touched them, but he was finally bare from head to toe. Her wandering eyes quickly darted away from the sight of his thick length, deciding instead to do a once over elsewhere before tightening a towel to his waist.

“You scared me,” she heard the man croak at a low volume. His voice came out strained and tired, and for the first time all night, she met his gaze. It broke her apart just like she expected it to because Smoke’s eyes always did something to her soul. Becoming soft at the edges, her own eyes held his—unwavering. She placed a hand on his chest, mouth opening and shutting. Not to say something slick. Not to get rude or disrespectful or to come up with some lie. Annie apologized deeply, explaining the situation.

“I went to check on Ms. Ethel down the street,” she choked out, words wet from the rain and her emotions. “Her grandson Jimmy don’t get home ‘til late, and I ain’t want her to be alone. So I sat with her ‘til he got there.”

“That don’t explain why you ain’t answer my phone calls,” he began heatedly, voice clear and harsh. The roughness made her body shake. The look on his face made her lean in. “Or why you ain’t tell me you was goin’ out. Or why yo’ ass was drivin’ back in that storm when you could have stayed where you was at.” Smoke listed off every truth there was, standing bare in the woman’s living room. The towel did little to shield his naked body.

Annie swallowed thickly at the heft in his voice; But when he was right, he was right.

She rattled off something about her phone being dead.

He responded by pointing at the charger in her wall.

Then she muttered off about feeling it was safe to drive back.

And he looked at her like she was insane. Because she was. The storm was gone now, but she had driven back in the thick of it, not expecting him to be there. Not expecting to be cornered the way she was now. He continued to spill his thoughts, voice rough and loud.

At that, Annie let her eyes shift into a roll. Her arms crossed beneath her chest. Her weight shifted to one foot. Her attitude was coming up quick, beginning to take over her function the more he hammered his points home.

If this nigga say one more thing I’m gon’ go off on his ass, she thought to herself. She was sick of the interrogation and how it felt she was standing on trial for capital murder. She’d been out because she was trying to be a good person. If he can’t understand that, then that’s his problem, she continued in her mind while the man stood tiredly in front of her. Her eyes shifted once more, leaving his to look down past his chest.

“Anything could have happened to you, woman” Smoke breathed, running a hand down his face in exhaustion. “What would you have done if that Chevy gave out on you in the middle of that drive? Huh?” He got close to her face, waiting for an answer she wouldn’t give him. Her lips twisted in anger, trying not to let her attitude slip out and ruin things more. She so badly wanted to lay every bit of her brattiness on him—say something stupid about how she’d flag somebody down or make the trek home through the storm—but that look on his face halted her.

He really was scared—terrified even. His eyes were wide. Fists clenched. Muscles bulging. Feet tapping as if all they wanted to do was pace across the floor.

Annie softened as she took him in. Her lips twitched again, not from her anger or attitude but from her guilt. Reaching down, she grabbed one of the man’s trembling hands. She tightened her hold, running her thumb in soothing circles.

She couldn’t help the way her eyes went to the edge of his towel.

“I should have charged my phone,” the young woman admitted softly. “I should have told you where I was at and stayed there ‘til the storm passed. I wasn’t bein’ safe. And I scared you. And I’m sorry.” Giving his hand a squeeze, Annie took a step forward. Her chest pressed against his bare one, the soft, dry cotton of her shirt mingling with his damp skin. Her eyes stared into his, and simultaneously, their gazes shifted. “Can you forgive me, baby,” she questioned hotly, tone turning sweet and low with a different emotion now. Her lips drifted toward his neck. She landed light kisses to his skin—heavier ones near the edge of his ear—and her breath caught when he grabbed her hips roughly.

Annie’s head swirled when Smoke turned her head to the side and began planting his own lips to the surface of her skin. It was heated and angry yet full of care and that beautiful softness she couldn’t get enough of now. Over the past month, she’d really grown to appreciate his sweet moments. They reminded her in a different way of his care, and every time she saw that calm wash over his face, she rededicated herself to making sure he felt that as often as possible.

She wanted to be his peace. She wanted to be where he found comfort. She recognized the fact that she had brought him worry tonight, but she vowed to help soothe that in her own special way.

Kissing her neck and chest softly, Smoke palmed Annie’s ass while guiding her back. He massaged her in a way that pulled needy moans from the back of her throat. Cries of apology and consideration for his stressed system. But he was already on the mend because his girl was safe, and above anything else in the world, that was what he needed most.

Since the couch was the closest surface for their bodies to land, that was exactly where Smoke guided them. He stepped gently into the woman, holding her body with ease like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. Each foot forward sent one of her feet back. And each kiss to her body dragged a moan out of her mouth.

"Smoke," Annie purred when her ass hit the arm of the couch. He hoisted her up gingerly, beginning to suck on her skin. She tasted sweet, just as sweet as he remembered her being, but it still managed to cloud his mind. The man nipped marks into her skin. He groaned against her body. He pulled her legs up in his hold, towel dropping to his feet. Annie was still fully clothed—leggings and a tee being the only things stopping the man's rush.

He moved to kiss her full on the mouth, swallowing every exhale and moan like they gave him life. His lips made her eyes roll back and the way his dick rutted against the fabric of her leggings made her cry out in need. But when he had successfully pulled her shirt over her head and had begun to work at her waistband, she halted his movements.

"Wait," she demanded breathily, scrambling off of the couch. Her knees immediately sunk into the hardwood floors in front of her man, and with one look up at him, she saw his face settle in understanding. "I wanna make you feel good, Daddy," she sighed, taking his length up in her hands and staring in awe. She sat back on her haunches, starry-eyed at how thick and long he was, at how his tip was swollen and dripping in precum.

Annie took an experimental lick, circling the head of his dick just once. Then she blew cool air on it, indulging in the man's shiver.

"Stop playin' games," Smoke belted in anticipation because Annie didn't get down on her knees for him very often. When she did, she normally took it as a punishment, but now, she was giving it to him like a gift.

Laughing, the woman made an offhand comment about him being so uptight, but then she leaned back in and did exactly as he said. Annie wasted no time in fitting her jaws around him. She took him down the back of her throat, gagging as she let him move through her slowly, and when he bottomed out, she pulled him back out to eye his soaking length. She continued the move: taking him to the extent of her throat, choking, gagging, then slurping at his tip on the way back out.

Above her, Smoke's head rolled back, eyes on the ceiling and blinking rapidly because he had no idea how he was meant to last long with her in this position. She was speeding up her assault now, choking purposely just because she noticed the way the sound had his dick jumping and thighs clenching hard. Annie sucked him in, moving her head back and forth with control. She'd had one hand at the base of his dick the entire time, but now she was moving them to rest on his thighs. She used nothing for leverage—just pure strength and determination.

Her eyes shot up to see the way he was facing the ceiling, and the laugh she let out around him was filthy.

"You can't take it, Daddy," she questioned aloud, stroking his throbbing length. Her hand twisted from base to tip, then back down again, and her mouth engulfed him once more.

Smoke gritted his teeth at her words, absolutely appalled.

"Watch that mouth, li'l mama," he growled, snatching her hair up in his right hand. He guided her head, forced her to take him deeper, met her head with his own harsh thrusts. Her gags became honest, each stroke he gave her encouraging her to choke around him. He was too thick, too long, but she couldn't get enough of the way he filled her so wonderfully. Sitting further back on her calves, Annie fully slackened her jaw, relaxing her throat as he forced her head down on him.

Reaching low between her legs, the young woman landed her hand to her clothed pussy. The man's efforts toward pleasure had increased her own, and her entire body felt like it was on fire. Fingers rubbing her clit through her leggings, Annie couldn't push down the moan for long, and by then, Smoke had already realized what she was doing.

"There goes my pretty li'l slut," the older man cooed after her cries had vibrated around his length. He watched the tremble of her thighs, slowly pulling his dick out to the tip before thrusting back in harder than he had so far. He continued the motion of fucking slow then harsh, and when her moans became consistent and her own fingers quickened their pace, he started going fast.

Annie was foaming at the mouth, spit gathering at the corners of her mouth and falling down her chin. It dripped down on her chest, shining beautifully on her skin. She slurped at his length, tongue dragging along the vein at the underside of his dick. She felt her pulse increase suddenly, light flashing behind her eyes as her clit thrummed beneath her fingers. She couldn't verbalize her need to cum, but she knew what he'd do to her if she didn't ask for permission.

The woman continued her pursuit, sucking his dick while rubbing at her clothed pussy, but her eyes bore into his. She communicated everything she need with just one long, labored look. Her body needed its release, and it was coming fast.

"No," Smoke bellowed, pulling his dick from her mouth. He bent forward, pulled her hair roughly while she heaved. Annie breathed heavily, trying to regain function after taking the man as severely as she had. She'd moved her hand away from her pussy, saddened by the fall in her peak, but wanting to obey the man's words. She leaned into his direction, hoping for a kiss, but he pulled her back by her hair once more. "I wanna eat that pussy 'til you cum baby," the man grumbled into her ear, air dense with arousal.

Annie was sat on the arm of the couch again before she knew it, and her leggings were laid on the floor beside the man's towel in a flash of a second. Panties hugging her wet center, the man looked past it as if he could see her heated flesh through them. And when he began to eat her pussy, he didn't even attempt to move the obstruction to the side. He ate her through the fabric, chewed at her folds, swallowed her arousal, sucked her clit off the bone. For his Annie, the man was insatiable, and his avid need for her was what guided every encounter.

Arms shivering as she held her body up on the unstable surface, Annie looked upon the wild hunger Smoke exhibited. She always loved when he ate her pussy because his thirst for her overcame all of his function. His left hand softly kneaded at one thigh. His moans softly nudged at her folds. But everything else was rough: how he took her up in his jaws; how he sent a teasing spank to the side of her ass; how has right hand clawed at her other thigh without thinking about it.

Every now and then, he'd come up off of her to mutter something soft and rough at the same time—praise and degradation mingling. He called her his filthy baby, his pretty li'l bitch, his perfect slut. And Annie took every title like it came alongside an award-winning trophy. He always made sure to emphasize that she was his, and as he muttered mine into her parted thighs, the young woman almost let herself fall over the edge.

"Pl-please, Daddy," Annie begged, beginning to make her petition. "I need it so bad, baby," she whined unapologetically, completely lost to her body. Her hips rocked into his face. Arousal coated his chin. "You make me feel so good, Daddy. Make my pussy wanna cry."

Her thighs were shaking violently and her belly was in a full on flutter by the time he looked up. His eyes stayed locked on hers as she pleaded, light at the corners while his forehead stayed scrunched—that delightful mix of soft and rough.

And he let her have it, pulling back from her clothed pussy to answer her solemn request.

Annie came with a loud shudder. Smoke's name was at the tip of her tongue as she held onto his face with one hand and kept her body from falling back with the other. Thighs shaking around his head, she praised him for every ounce of kindness he'd delivered unto her.

Annie's back was against the wall as Smoke held her in his arms, thrusting dick up into her. His pace was fast, breathing labored because she just felt too good around him. Every time he pulled out, she chased him, pussy pulling him back in before he had even had time to stabilize himself. She fluttered, and he moaned. He tap lightly against that soft spot, and she whined in delicious pleasure.

"I love this fuckin' dick," the woman slurred. Her body was fully relaxed as she had the wall behind her and the man in front of her. He held her up, fucked her too damn good, and it had her eyes in the back of her head.

"Yeah," he breathed huskily, strokes steady. "You like bein' fucked with this dick?"

"I love it," she admitted. "God, I love it so much."

"I know you do," Smoke growled. "You drunk on this dick. You love this good ass dick." His forehead fell to her shoulder, back hunched as he kissed her heated skin. The man was losing his cool. Each drag against her walls had his knees buckling. Each time he pulled out to the tip, he wanted to weep. "And I love this pussy, babygirl," he whimpered, words etched in emotion.

"Yeah," she asked, the whine only increasing.

And the older man could only possibly respond with an uptick in his pace. He fucked her walls fast and with the renewed spirit of a man overtaken with adoration. He cared so deeply for Annie. He wanted the world for her—past the money he could give her or the experiences he could ensure she'd have. He wanted her to have the world and every dream she had ever possessed—and he wanted to move through that idealized life right alongside her.

"Cum with me, baby," he breathed against her temple. He kissed her there with all of the love he'd kept silent, and he lingered—softly. "Pl-please. I need you to cum with me."

The plea was pure—an honesty that resulted in tears being brought to Annie's eyes. She held the man's face in her hands, looking into his teary brown eyes with her own. And she nodded, completely unable to respond with words.

The room filled with heavy breaths, sharp whines, and the vulgar yet delicate sound of wet skin meeting wet skin.

They breathed their love faintly—between the tears and thick huffs.

They broke apart airily—like the calm that hit after a Mississippi storm.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

word count: ~4,250

a/n: the end—fr this timeeee :3

taglist: comment HERE to be added!

Again, Smoke Moore was not a man to be played with, but for some reason, Annie loved to do the playing: pissing him off, raising his pressure, bringing him close enough to the edge that he couldn’t do anything other than fuck her ass up. Her toxic ass loved that side of him, thrived in being the target for his aggression. The older man’s roughness warmed her insides so much so that she tended to lose herself in the feeling.

When he left her home after that night, ripping through the early morning air like a man the world waited for, he sat a wad of cash on her dresser. Proceeding to peck her lips, he whispered something soft and possessive about being his good girl. And she so badly wanted it to be true, but her bratty side always won over the side that wanted to please him.

~~~~~

The sun crept low toward the horizon, swirling the air on its descent and bringing forth a sharp emotion. It smelled of a devious nature—destructive, dangerous, venomous—and the young woman couldn’t help but lean in for a whiff. It had been nearly a week since the man left on his trip, and she was getting antsy without him. Going from being laid out by the nigga of her dreams to laying in her bed with a too-big shirt on and no prospects was causing a pout to drift over her lips.

Every time she asked when he’d be back, he always responded with: “shit’s touch and go right now” or “it’s business, baby” or “when I get back” if she was already pushing him toward a pissy mood. Annie had honestly tried her best to keep her latest punishment fresh in her mind as a reminder of how far her man could push her, but when her friends called, every bit of training went right out the window.

Trail ride. 20 minutes south. Where trees blocked the Sun—even if She wasn’t already flirting with idea of night.

Smoke had prevented her from going to trail rides with this particular set of friends before. They were reckless women who encouraged her to disobey him because they knew Annie wanted to get him riled up. They lived for the thrill, lived for the drama, lived for whatever they’d hear once Annie filled them in after a night of punishment. But Smoke was hundreds of miles away now, and that only added to the young woman’s excitement. She could practically see it now: Smoke Moore would inevitably find out that she was running the streets; his brother would probably be the one to tell him with a sly grin on his face; and the man would scowl and grit his teeth and come home just to fuck her past the point of no return.

Annie swooned as she dressed, mind swirling around all the thoughts of her in various positions. She looked over her appearance one last time. She’d chosen a pair of dark wash booty shorts, a pink camo crop top, and some boots—dusty from the last trail ride or horse show she’d been to. She looked delicious. Titties high. Thighs full. Braids sweeping down her back in a way that made her remember how Smoke had wrapped his hand around them tightly and pulled.

Danger flirted with Annie, and she flirted right back when she jumped into the backseat of her friend’s car and drove through the fresh night.

A groan slipped from the man’s lips as he allowed himself to wash the day from his body. It had been a long one filled with stupid negotiations and even stupider people that needed to be handled, but everything was back in place; And his trip was over. He had touched back down in Jackson just hours ago, heading straight from the airport to home. From there, he’d had things to check up on at his businesses—one errand being to see if that order of tires had come in Annie's beat up old Chevy—and he was hoping to make the young woman the final thing on his agenda.

He had missed her dearly, more than he knew she’d let him admit, but he was itching to see her, to feel her, to taste her.

He smiled lowly as the water ran over his tired skin, shoulders relaxing from the heat, muscles unclenching themselves in the safety of the bathroom. For a man always on high alert, he hardly ever got this level of calm. Eyes closed, he let the shower head run along the plains of his back. Tawny skin glowing, he hummed and stretched and moaned before reaching to turn the faucet off.

Stepping out of the shower with a towel wrapped around his waist, all he could think about was getting back to his Annie. It had been too long, and his nerves were wound tight. Rifling through his chest of drawers, his hands paused at a sound.

His phone was ringing across the room—loud and annoying and making the floor practically shake. When he answered it, his nerves only spun up around each other even more.

“Aye, bro,” he heard the moment he flipped the device open. Stack’s voice cranked over the loudness and music and laughter going on on his side of the phone. It made Smoke scrunch his face up, one—from the loudness, and two—because the twins had just been together not even hours ago.

“What’s up,” he growled. He was at the ready because even though Stack was the playful one of the two, he could always hear that seriousness in his voice, an urgency to act on something.

“Yo’ girl out here wildin’,” the younger twin shouted clearly.

“What,” Smoke questioned, head rearing back like he’d heard something completely off the wall—and he had.

“Annie,” Stack clarified. “She out here caked up with some young nigga. Sittin’ on the back of his four-wheeler and everything!” The man was appalled, and the brother who was across town could hear it in the strain of his voice. Teeth grinding against each other and fingernails piercing his palm, Smoke hung up. His chest was heaving, anger crossing through him thickly.

“All she had to do was listen,” he mumbled under his breath, throwing on a hoodie and a pair of sweats. “All she had to fuckin’ do was not piss me off, but here we go.” Smoke hated repeating himself, hated having to make the same point over and over again, but it seemed that Annie loved having to relearn the cost of his anger and exhaustion. She kept pushing him too far, but tonight was different. Caked up with another nigga when she had him? Nah, that wasn’t gon’ fly.

The young woman could still feel the way the night air had ripped through her braids. It had been ages since she got to ride a four-wheeler, but, of course, some man had to offer when he saw them thighs and that ass in those little bitty shorts. She’d been bent forward in a cooler when he tapped her on her shoulder, and when Annie looked back, it was Mookie—a li’l fling from before Smoke entered the picture.

But he definitely didn’t appear little right now.

Mookie was tall, and the night air hit so right and heated that he’d thrown his shirt over the handles of his four-wheeler. Sweat flanked his chest, down his stomach and toward the waistband of his boxers—peaking out from his bootcut jeans. He looked good as fuck, but now that she had Smoke, a man like Mookie wasn’t her type. She liked 'em older, liked 'em only if they were her man. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t still have fun though. When he asked her to take a ride with him, her friends answered for her, pushing her into the man’s sweaty chest and dazzling smile. She said yes; And he helped her swing her leg over the seat, watching the way her jean shorts shifted unapologetically.

Mookie rode her through hills and valleys, past cow fields and thick lines of trees, and the wind had her braids flowing behind her, wrapped around the humid air. And she thought of Smoke—she always did. By the time they returned back to their little corner of the function, Annie’s heart was beating fast. The adrenaline of the ride coursed through her veins, but her memories of Smoke were doing all the heavy lifting.

And she didn’t even know that she’d already been spotted. That the younger of the two Moore men had already informed the man that she couldn’t stop thinking about.

Annie stayed sitting on the back of the four-wheeler. Both of her legs were swung to one side, but to avoid the heated plastic from how intense the drive had been, her calves brushed Mookie’s to reach a cooler spot. And he welcomed her, nudged her with his sweat-covered shoulder before flashing that white smile.

“Ain’t seen you in ages,” he laughed breathlessly, trying to pull her into his orbit. But all Annie did was hum and nod her head and utter an is that right. “Yeah,” he muttered back, scooting in closer. “I heard you gotta nigga now. That true?”

The young woman’s attention snapped toward her friends as they snickered. She watched them whisper things under their breaths, and she could just imagine the answers they were giving to his question. Something about Smoke or something coy or something sly and full of half-truths, but she simply answered his question with another question.

“Why you wanna know that?”

“‘Cause I need to know who I gotta get in the ring wit’,” he chuckled like she was playing games, but the woman was truly uninterested and trying her best not to roll her eyes in the man’s face.

“Yeah, okay,” she raised her eyebrows mockingly, laughing when she looked across to her friends. They were cackling, falling all over each other because he really thought he’d win a fight between him and her nigga. But he didn’t know she was with Smoke—which was a feat of its own because everyone around was looking at him with pity while he looked googly-eyed at the girl who belonged to Smoke Moore.

“You sayin’ I can’t do it,” Mookie scoffed, scrunching his forehead.

“I’m sayin’ you ain’t even on my radar, baby,” Annie scoffed back, shaking her head. She was about to tell him to cut his losses before something bad happened, but then she heard it—an engine revving. His engine.

Above the height of the music and laugher and horses trotting and four-wheelers stirring up dirt, she could hear the man coming. It sparked that rush in her heart once more. It reinvigorated the humming in her lower body. She didn’t know whether to stay or run, but the sound rang again and she knew he was getting closer. Time was limited. When Mookie spoke again, the young woman jumped in shock, having been lost in her mind.

“Huh,” she slurred, leaning close to hear him over the various noises around her.

“I said, who yo’ nigga,” he shouted above the music. The revving had stopped and even despite the loud ass music and laughing, something else had begun to penetrate. It was a sense of danger and unease. Stomachs churned as it approached, but no one had words to describe what it meant or had a means to escape it. Annie’s mouth opened in an attempt to come clean, but then a voice boomed over the height of hers and everything around them.

“I am. You got a problem with that?”

It was almost as if the air was sucked out of the outdoors. Heads turned. Mouths hushed. Conversations stalled in the middle as everyone zeroed in on the burly man.

Smoke’s eyes were hot with fire was he looked upon Mookie, completely ignoring Annie who was trying to quiet the way smoke and flames filled her system. All she’d been able to think about was him, and now he was here; She couldn’t deny the way it felt like she had conjured him up herself. Behind him was Stack—a shit-eating grin taking over his face—and the young woman couldn’t help the roll of her eyes. Of course he’d been there, but it pissed her off more to know that she hadn’t been aware of his presence, that she’d already been in trouble much longer than she thought.

“I-I—naw, Smoke,” Mookie stuttered, scrambling to get off of the four-wheeler. Grabbing his shirt from the handle bars, he threw it over his head in an attempt to look more decent. Sitting half-clothed beside another man’s woman was never a good look, but the attempt didn’t help his case any. “I was just catchin’ up with an old friend,” he laughed nervously, looking back to Annie for an assistance she wasn’t ready to lend. “Didn’t know y’all was foolin’ around.”

The young woman’s ears became fogged as her man hurled threats. She was barely listening as her eyes took in his appearance. Tired from work and travel but refreshed in a way only she could tell. His sweatpants were sitting low on his hips—a filthy ease she couldn’t get enough of. Between the haze of her arousal, she could pick up on bits of the heated conversation: Mookie vowing that he meant now harm; Smoke pressing hard anyway ‘cause the nigga must have been living under a rock to not know Annie ran with him.

Everyone knew Smoke, so everyone knew Annie belonged to him. It was simple. It made sense.

But the man in front of him was acting stupid, and the eyes around them were growing larger with anticipation. A Moore man insulted—especially this publicly—was not something anyone wanted to be on the receiving end of. Moving in closer, Stack watched, eyes low and at the ready for whenever he was called upon to act. Annie’s eyes watched the scene—Stack’s stalking, the twitch of Smoke’s hand before his head began to drift toward the younger twin. She jumped into action just before that look that would cement everything could be sent from brother to brother.

“Calm down,” she sighed, moving off the four-wheeler like a pro. Her walk toward the older man was calculated—her hips switching dangerously because she knew he liked it, her eyes locked on his because one look between them communicated a million words. When she was stood in front of him, her arms went around his neck, completely unconcerned with the eyes watching. Her friends held in their giggles now—terrified yet intrigued. Everyone else turned away because Annie was Smoke’s girl, and that dangerous walk had their eyes wanting to wander. “It was innocent,” she purred, kissing the edge of his mouth. “I just wanted a ride.” Her lips moved toward his jaw. Then his neck. Then his hoodie, leaving a glare of lip gloss on the fabric. “Lighten up, Daddy.”

She laughed when his breath hitched, catching in his throat.

“Annie,” Smoke growled, hand meeting her hips and holding on tight. His anger was only growing steadily, increasing as he took in her appearance. He tried to think logically, but her ass was hanging out of those shorts, and that crop top made her look good enough to eat. Shaking his head once and huffing in annoyance, he nodded in an off direction before completely turning away. “Get yo’ ass in that car,” he mumbled, pushing her hip where he wanted her to go.

And Annie huffed, grinding her teeth; But she obeyed because she was already in a world of trouble. Saying goodbye to her friends and accepting their prayers and well wishes, she looked back just once before doing as told.

She watched Smoke send that look, finality filling the air as Stack moved to action. Her eyes flashed as Smoke crossed his arms and Stack snatched Mookie up before dragging him off to meet his Maker.

Annie's walk toward the Cutlass had been filled with a tension she couldn’t comprehend. She was scared and aroused and full of guilt all at once. She could have tried to help Mookie more, but it probably would have just made it worse for him. She could have just stayed with her friends, said no to the ride. She could have stayed home like Smoke would have told her to. But where was the fun in all of that?

Each step brought let her closer to her demise and a night full of getting fucked through the mattress—or that’s what she thought. Smoke was gaining on her, gait wide and long. She’d been taking her sweet, precious time making it to his car, and the longer she walked the better she realized just how far away from the function he had parked.

When the Cutlass came into view, it was tucked away near a line of trees, and the music from the trail ride was just a distant thump. Her heart pounded, pussy purring as she took a look back. There he was, anger held up in his expression.

Her feet sped up.

His did, too.

But he still made it to the car at the same time that she did, halting her attempts to get into the passenger’s seat by placing a hand over the door handle.

“I’m gettin’ real tired of yo’ shit, woman,” Smoke’s voice rumbled, penetrating her system. Annie felt crazy because no matter what, Smoke always got her hot and bothered. She felt it was only a matter of time before she folded, and she hoped to God that time would come soon.

“It was just innocent fun,” she played off, leaning her ass against the pale blue car. She arms crossed under her chest, and her weight shifted beautifully.

“Innocent,” he laughed mockingly. “You know exactly why I don’t let yo’ ass come to these damn trail rides. Out here in the middle of nowhere like you ain’t got no home trainin’.”

“You ain’t my daddy, Smoke,” she growled, rolling her neck at him, and the man’s eyebrows raised in shock.

“Oh, so you don’t remember cummin’ all over this dick less than a week ago? Screamin’ my name like it was the only word you knew?”

“That’s not fair,” she scoffed like the words were crude. Her eyes drifted toward her feet, unable to handle looking at him for too long. There wasn’t much fight in her this time around. She knew she was in the wrong, knew her punishment would be much worse if she resisted. The young woman’s simple need for the man pushed her brattiness away—for the time being.

Lips twitching into a pout, she spoke again.

“I’m sorry, Smoke,” Annie whimpered, leaning into his body like it would save her. And he scoffed but allowed it to happen nonetheless. “I won’t do it no more,” she vowed, words coming out strained and desperate. “I’ll be good from now on! I promise—”

“Nah,” he cut her off, shaking his head cause he’d heard those words too damn much. She was always sorry, always gonna do better, always gonna change her ways and be his good girl—but she never honored her promises. She pushed and pushed and pushed until he broke each and every time, using her sweetness to win him over, but he wasn’t falling for it again. Not when she had taken things to the extreme. “I be easy on you, baby,” he started, moving his hand to her waist. “I’m soft with you—softer than I’ve ever been. I let you off easy. I let you get yo’ licks back. But I think I give you too much grace because you be knowin’ better.”

The woman choked, trying to get a word in but he wouldn’t let her. She was sorry, truly this time. Her body needed him, desperate to be filled and fucked and taken control over. She needed him, and each of his heavy words was making her legs tremble harder and more consistent. She pressed her thighs together and moved to speak once more—but again, he cut her off.

“I want to be sweet with you, woman,” he spoke strained, tightening his hold on her waist. “But you make that shit hard.”

At that, the man turned her around, pressing her front into the side of his Cutlass. Hot skin meeting the cool surface of the car, Annie moaned while a shiver ran straight down her spine.

“Daddy,” she cried when he pressed his body against hers. In the seat of his sweatpants, she could feel how hard he was—thick and throbbing as he watched her tremble against his car.

“This little ass outfit,” he growled, pulling at the waistband of her shorts. She was tempting as hell, and that only made him more upset. Niggas had been looking at what was his all damn night. He grunted once, smacked the side of her ass. “Who you wear this for?”

“I was gon’ take pictures for you,” she lied, biting her bottom lip at the sting. The memory of nights ago still lingered in the faint marks and bruises on her backside.

“I’m sure you was,” he breathed sarcastically because he didn’t believe a word she said. She wasn’t supposed to be at a trail ride to begin with, so she definitely wasn’t going to share any of the evidence with him. Reaching around her body, the man’s hands drifted lower. “Who you belong to,” he questioned in her ear, humid air swirling as his tone dripped in dominance.

“You,” she whined, pressing her ass against the bulge in his pants. His fingers were pulling at the zipper of her shorts, popping the button open before pulling the zipper down low and slow.

“Say it right,” he demanded, hands pulling her shorts down an inch. His fingers ghosted the outside of her panties, waiting for her to obey his order.

“I belong to you, Daddy,” she corrected with a moan. “Elijah ‘Smoke’ Moore.”

The man let out a satisfied sound, not yet allowing her to hear the praise she so desperately wanted. He watched her nails claw at the car, trying to find something to hold on to as his fingers drifted below the band of her underwear. She was soaked, dripping arousal all over the place. From the moment she’d heard the revving of his car, she was instantly ready for the man, and since then, the need had only increased exponentially. Annie was damn near crying by the time his middle finger reached her clit, but when it did, he pulled away.

“Tell me why you deserve it,” he roared down the back of her neck, keeping her body in place. He played with her folds, teasing the pleasure she so badly wanted. He hadn’t seen this side of her in a long time—the side that would say and do anything just because she needed it just that bad. She was always desperate, but this was pure and carnal at the same time.

Annie racked her brain for reasons why. She’d been horrible as of late, mean and rude and disrespectful. She didn’t deserve it, and they both knew that. This was a form of punishment she hadn’t experienced before—straight torture. The party thrummed on behind them, but neither of them cared. They were in their own world. Nothing else mattered.

When the words fell from her mouth, they were timid and shy. But above all, they were honest.

“I don’t deserve it, Daddy,” she cried, resting her forehead against the car and pushing her body into his hand. “I don’t deserve it, but I want to. I promise I do.” Her hips rocked slowly, testing the leash she’d been given, testing his dominance while simultaneously surrendering to it because there was no other way to possibly live. She needed him. Craved him.

Dragging herself against his palm and trembling in his hold, Annie's pussy cried in his hand.

Smoke was done talking.

He was done with words and lies and pleas for more.

Pressing a hand against her back, he made sure her chest stayed flush with the car. Then he started fucking her with his fingers, not even allowing her to adjust to the intrusion.

“Oh, fuck,” Annie moaned loudly, fluttering around his thick fingers. He filled her so beautifully. So perfectly. Like he was created to fill her. Like she was molded to fit around him. Her hips kept up their rocking, grinding back into his hand with a soft quiver. “D-Daddy,” she cried, jaw dropping when he shifted the pressure, dragging slower, fucking deeper.

“You try to run shit, but we both know I’m in charge ‘round here,” the man barked. “I got you wit’ yo’ shorts down against the side of my car where anyone could see you.” It was true, and the truth made her moan filthily. “You my slut, Annie,” he continued. “My perfect girl.”

His pace turned rough, fucking her so deep in an attempt to break her. He hated having to prove the same point over and over again, but if he had to, he would. Fingers flexing inside of her, he began pressing against that soft spot against her walls. The woman cried, moaned, yelled for more. The hand against her back made her chest feel like it was caving in against the car. His pressure was rough—just like she needed it to be—and just as the man expected, her legs began to give out, folding in on themselves as he stroked her walls.

“Stand that ass up,” Smoke yelled through gritted teeth. He watched her try. Watched her fail. Watched her body begin to burn from the inside out. “You want it,” he questioned darkly in her ear. The hand at her back moved around to the front of her. He held her body close to his, thrusting his fingers with more fervor now that she was stable again. He could feel her on the very edge. “You want that fuckin’ nut?”

Annie moaned brokenly, leaning her head back against his shoulder. When she looked up at him, her eyes were wet around the edges, and the sight of his tight expression didn’t help any. One hand moving to the back of his head, she watched him while he took control of her. The other helped him to support her, pressing against the back of his hand that held her body together.

“I want it so bad, baby,” she whimpered, looking through his soul.

The man’s face stayed tight—still angry—but his eyes flashed in recognition. An idea popped into his head; One that was cruel and sure to get his point across. He kept his pace steady, shifting his hand subtly so the heel of his hand grazed her clit. When her mouth opened and her eyes rolled back, his mouth fluttered against hers.

“Cum for me, pretty girl,” he cooed against her lips, laughing darkly as she broke apart.

The orgasm thrusted the woman into a state of shock. She forgot where she was. She forgot who she was. She forgot what she was even doing. But she couldn’t mistake the easily recognizable aura of Smoke Moore. He was tantalizing. Controlling. More dominant that she’d ever experienced before. And it was beautiful. Annie had surrendered to him with an ease that she absolutely was not ashamed to have exhibited. He was the type of nigga who deserved that side of her—the soft, pliable, easy side. He was the type of nigga who deserved easy after dealing with all the shit he did.

When she came to, she’d been thrown up on the hood of the man’s car, head flung back and spine arched as he swallowed every ounce of her cum. Her shorts were long gone. Her panties were slung over the side mirror like a trophy the man wanted every passerby to see. He sucked her dry, ate her off the bone, brought her to the edge of a second orgasm like the professional eater he was.

Annie raked her hands down the side of his face, holding him in place as she rocked against his tongue, but the spank to her thigh made her jump.

“Hands to yourself,” Smoke rumbled, quickly returning to his task, and she obeyed without any hesitation or protest. It was hard not to touch him because all she wanted was to feel his skin against her palms. The man’s thick lips surrounded her clit. He sucked harshly, pulling the bud into his mouth and hollowing his cheeks around it. The sound was obscene. The sight made her fingers twitch. Every couple of seconds, he’d pull back and spit at her folds before swallowing her and starting all over again. The feeling was addictive, but when she was mere seconds away from cumming, the older man slowed his efforts.

The young woman’s eyes fluttered in confusion. She looked down, eyebrows creased together as she took in Smoke's state. The man was quiet, too quiet, but then he started up again, and she hushed up the protest that was vying for its chance to fall from her mouth. He picked up right where he left off.

It was just as harsh.

Just as nasty.

Just as full of sweat and spit and tears.

Annie found herself getting lost in it again, completely overtaken by his ability to fuck her so delightfully.

But then he slowed once more—right when she reached the top of her peak.

Annie’s thighs trembled in his hold. Her throat grew wet in frustration, but then—he continued.

Fast. Hard. Filthy. Dangerous.

Her face tightened in need. Her body trembled atop the car's hood. Every muscle in her body flexed, waiting for that beautiful breaking moment.

But again, the man slowed.

Then he stopped all together.

“Daddy,” Annie released breathily, sitting up on her elbows to get a better look at the man. All she could see clearly in the darkness that surrounded them were his bright, hooded eyes and his tongue that sat outstretched toward her clit, waiting. She shook her head, confused beyond belief, but then he raised his eyebrow, and she got the message.

Her hips raised experimentally, clit swiping at his tongue and making her lips fall into a deep pout.

“Please,” she cried, failing to keep a steady rhythm as the feeling of his rough tongue spread across her pussy with no help from him at all. She worked as best she could, bucking up then down, swirling her hips when it got too hard to keep up one constant motion. But it all felt impossible. She was so close to an orgasm, but the closer she got, the further she felt the goal post was moved. Smoke was playing with her heart because every time her body shook, he pulled back. No tongue on her. No hands at her hips. No orgasm in sight.

When he’d come back to her clit, he’d lean in harder just to piss her off. And it worked every time no matter what.

Her frustration was exactly the effect Smoke wanted it to have. He was having too much fun watching her get annoyed as he forced her to get off on his tongue. She’d completely lost herself in him, and not once did she seem concerned with her surroundings. She was happy to be fucked silly, and the fact that she wasn’t given her second orgasm yet made her feel insane.

“Why you doin’ me like this,” she groaned, the bass in her voice making the words land with a bite. She couldn’t understand what was happening, and instead of an answer, all she got was Smoke taking over control again. She sighed with exhaustion and excitement as he pulled her body into his mouth. He massaged the fat of her ass while she grinded her hips against his face.

Relief was the only thing she wanted in this moment, and she could feel it quickly approaching. Her hips snapped. Her hands fell to his head. Her thighs locked him in place. Moans turning loud and incessant before slipping into soft whines of pleasure, she felt the warmth begin to spread.

Then Smoke stopped.

“What the fuck is your problem?!”

Annie shouted the words without thinking, raised her voice knowing she was on thin ice. The man was breathing heavily in her face within seconds, pressing her into the car with damn near all his force. The hood was cool against her flushed, fucked skin, but his words were what sent a chill down her spine.

“Who you talkin’ to, li’l mama,” Smoke wondered aloud, looking at her like he’d ruin her right then and there. And he would—was going to very shortly.

“Nobody,” Annie quipped. She attempted to lower her eyes to look away, but the man was quick. He scooped up her throat in the palm of his hand, noting the way her pulse spiked.

“Yeah, that’s what I fuckin’ thought,” he muttered against her lips, choking her and making her eyes flutter up at him. He tested the pressure—going hard then soft then hard again—and each iteration made her thighs quiver. “You must have thought I’d just let yo’ ass have whatever you wanted tonight? But this a punishment,” he reminded smoothly. “I gave you that first one so you could have something to aspire to, babygirl. But you gotta work to deserve that again.”

Annie's words were coming to bite her in the ass. She’d told him she didn’t deserve it. His kindness. His care. His sex. But he gave it to her anyway and in the worst possible manner.

In an instant, he was between her thighs, pants and briefs around his ankles while his dick stroked her walls. He tapped at the back of her pussy, flirting with the idea of ruining her function. With the way his hand stayed at her throat, and his hips moved with intention, she knew she'd leave tonight unable to walk, knew she'd have stories to tell tomorrow, knew the evidence would be riddled all over her body.

The pace was steady, mimicking a Mississippi second as he rocked into her smoothly. Smoke was a calculated man. He had planned every aspect of this night in his head. From the moment he got that call to now, he knew he'd end up buried deep inside of her and showing no mercy. The specific details changed and adjusted as he went, but one thing stayed constant, and that was the fact that he was going to fuck Annie's ass up.

The man began to mutter into her ear every issue he'd had with her recently: her attitude, her slick ass mouth, her disrespect, her lying, her disobeying his rules, her entertaining another nigga. She was his and his only.

Each time he added a new grievance, his hand tightened its hold. And each time that happened, Annie apologized—deeply, honestly, reverently. She made sure he knew she was sorry, that she'd do better because, God, did she want to believe it. His roughness was addictive, but his sweetness made her body just as hot. She knew she brought him stress, knew he was going to care for her no matter how she badly behaved. But right then and there, she dedicated herself to doing better—even if that was done bit by bit, day by day.

The young woman's hands were thrown over her head as he stroked her walls in time. Her moans had turned greedy, deep howls that sounded more animalistic than anything else. Smoke was growling right alongside her, body succumbing to that delicious flutter of her walls. Her orgasm was approaching quickly, but she knew he wouldn't let her have it, so she learned to enjoy the way her body felt. She payed attention to the spike of her pulse, the flutter of her pussy around his length, the twitch of his dick. And when he pulled out sharply and came all over her thighs and the hood of the Cutlass, she watched in renewed awe.

Chest rising and falling fast, Smoke fought to recover his breath. He hadn't intended to cum in the middle of her punishment, but he'd be lying if he said that pussy wasn't reckless. His heart was pounding, breath ragged. Eyes meeting Annie's he saw an emotion in them that he hadn't seen before—awe and wonder. Then her hands moved from their place above her head and fumbled toward the white, hot streaks he'd left on her thighs.

She raked it off of her skin. Brought it toward her face. Stuffed her mouth with the remnants of his climax. Then she moaned like it was the best thing she'd ever tasted, like his cum was an oasis in the middle of a desert and she just couldn't help but take a drink.

Smoke groaned at the display, dick immediately hardening again when she dipped back in a second time. She swallowed his cum with reverence in her eyes, and that was what finally made him believe she deserved to feel relief.

He was marveled, folding inside of her while their eyes locked in on each other. They moaned into each other's faces, made promises that neither of them knew how to keep, but they would—somehow. In the middle of trees and wide open land with a party going on hundreds of feet away, they committed themselves to each other in the form of a carnal act. But it went beyond the moment they were in, beyond any knowing.

Annie's heartbeat shifted, taking the shape of Smoke's and vice versa. They melded into one, both fucking with the same goal in mind. Annie wanted to help him reach his climax, and Smoke wanted to do the same for her. His lips glided up the side of her neck, molding themselves to her jaw before fitting to the edge of her mouth. He kissed her there—softly, with purpose. And Annie damn near cried.

"Smoke," she breathed densely. The air was clouded, humid and wet like any other Mississippi night. Her arms wrapped around his neck, and as she pulled him close, and he allowed it.

"That's my good girl," he groaned against her face. "That's my good fuckin' girl."

And all Annie could do was nod and press herself into his neck for refuge as her body began to unfold itself.

When they both came, they came together: bodies slick, minds far off, thighs trembling, souls rested for the first time in a long time. The feeling of Smoke painting her walls with such force worked to pull one last orgasm from the woman, and as she clamped down tight, she milked her lover dry.

Laid atop the hood of a pale blue Cutlass in the middle of nowhere in the middle of a Mississippi night, two souls became one, two hearts opened themselves up for more.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

word count: ~6,550

a/n: the end :3

taglist: comment HERE to be added!

Smoke wasn’t a nigga to be fucked with, and everybody in and around Jackson, Mississippi knew that to be a fact. He ran shit—had been running it since he and his brother left Clarksdale for something deeper South; and way before then, too. Everywhere he went, his name was known, felt in the way it penetrated a heart like a bullet to soft flesh. Most notoriously, folks knew the twins by the businesses they’d run for decades: Auto body shops as covers; Laundromats to clean the money they earned off doing illegal shit; Towing companies because multiple streams never hurt. Kept the cops from poking around in they business—but everyone knew.

As a result, the man was well respected, and his success was looked at as something to attain. But it didn’t come by with luck. It was strategy, planning, real hands-on, back-breaking, soul-cursing work—but he did it anyway because he had real shit to handle.

When people saw Smoke coming, they moved off sidewalks to clear his path or dapped him up real polite-like. Some people would watch as he strided with a head held high, shoulders back, and jaw clenched. And they’d wonder what was circling around in the head of a man like that—giant as he. He was mystique personified—quiet, hearty, confident, edged with something raw and dangerous.

The only person who didn’t give a shit about his reputation, though, was Annie Laveau.

She was a young thing he’d been fucking around with—just by a few years. She was slick at the mouth and thick in the thighs with pretty brown skin that shined brighter than any piece of jewelry a reckless nigga like Smoke had ever bought. She’d turned his head without trying too hard, and she had him keeping tabs on her before she even allowed him to hear the sound of her name fall off her lips.

But, of course, she knew Smoke Moore; She had to be living under a rock to not have heard of the SmokeStack Twins, but he didn’t need to know all that, didn’t need to know she had always dreamed of the care he gave her: older man putting money in her pocket and checking her when her mouth breathed too hot a fire. It made her insides blaze to see that flashing in his eyes. When he’d have just enough of her disrespect, she could always tell the instant when she’d go from flat on her feet to laid on her back.

~~~~~

The pale blue Cutlass blazed through the city, cutting the air in half as it rode low and controlled. A veined hand gripped the wheel taut while the other settled around a pre-roll. Smoke curled in the dusky air—of the man’s namesake—brushing past his knuckles as he urged the vehicle toward the edge of town.

The young woman had always been an anomaly to him, especially when he learned of how far out she lived. Most of her time was spent in Jackson—working, hanging with friends, running the streets—but the rest of the time, she was at home, 20 minutes away from all the noise in the middle of the woods. And Smoke didn’t care. It only peaked his interest and made him want to know more about her, what about quiet pulled her to live where sound hardly penetrated.

The woman didn’t know he was coming, but she could sense it. The hairs on the back of her neck stood at attention, her thighs clenched tight. Smoke always had that effect on Annie. Even now with a tight nightgown on, her hair wrapped up, and her body begging for a sleep it wouldn’t be awarded for hours to come. When she finally heard the road of his engine, she sat up quick, hand fumbling for the remote to turn off the newest episode of that one Wayans Brother show ‘bout the wife and kids.

Her skin prickled in heat and desire, and no matter how hard she fought to push it away, nothing worked. He was revving that engine, testing her affinity for quiet—though he shared the same characteristic. Her eyes drifted toward the full-length mirror across the room, raking over her appearance and satisfied with what she found.

This nigga can’t never come at an appropriate time, she thought to herself, rolling her eyes as she crossed her bedroom. Spraying perfume in the places his nose gravitated toward the most—her neck, titties, wrist, ankles, the back of her knees—the woman heaved a nervous breath. As much as she didn’t want to admit it, she’d been on edge recently, increasingly needy for a feeling only Smoke could give her. Her lower body thudded with each engine cry, and her fingers pulled at each other in anticipation.

Suitcases thudded around in the backseat as the rugged man traded pavement for rock and dirt roads. He could just barely make out the glow of her home beyond the trees, so he revved to announce his presence. Revved again to let her know that he expected the door to be open for him when he got there. He wasn’t in the mood for games tonight. He needed his soft place to land, but in the backseat, the suitcases reminded him that he didn’t have much time to be idle.

Business trip. Few states west. Normal for a man like him with his hand too deep in foul shit.

Rolling his shoulders back, Smoke pulled the car to a slow stop outside Annie’s home. He surveyed. Made sure everything was as he left it. When he walked toward the front door, he shifted toward her car. He slow-walked it, head tilted to the side as he eyed the rear driver’s side tire—nearly flat.

“This woman,” he huffed, annoyed but never uninvested in assisting her. He was back at the Cutlass in three short steps, throwing the trunk open and fishing for his air compressor. It took two seconds—would have been quicker if it wasn’t dark outside—but the tire was reinflated with ease. He filed the instance away, marking up a mental todo list so he could get her a new set of tires when he was back in town. It wasn’t the first time he’d had an issue with her and that old ass car. She refused to let him buy her something new, refused to listen to him about keeping it checked up on, refused to let him do the checking.

While his auto body shop was a cover, the man was still passionate about vehicles, and she knew that. But Annie always had to be right no matter the situation or argument.

Attention restored to his original task, Smoke bounded up the steps. Hands on the knob, he readied himself to open the door that should have been unlocked, and when he tried?

Nothing.

No turn. No push open.

The grunt couldn’t keep itself down, because he knew for a fact she’d heard him coming, and if she hadn’t, she for damn sure heard him opening and closing his trunk, filling her tire, and walking up them steps. It was dead quiet, the only sound being cicadas and toads, and she was on the other side of that door playing with him.

“You betta’ bust a move and open this door, woman,” he shouted through the wood, not even caring to knock. He could practically hear her snicker, could see the smirk growing on her lips. “Yeah, you laughin’ now,” he gritted his teeth, speaking under his breath. His eyes drifted to the doorknob and remained there—locked in. “You laughin’ but just wait til I get my hands on you.”

The threat was clear, too damn clear, and across the house in her bedroom, Annie’s heart pitched in fear. She always loved pushing him, but it was late and he was tired. She knew he’d have her ass hanging off the side of the bed with no mercy if she didn’t act fast, and even though she’d probably end up in that position anyway, she at least wanted a chance at seeing the sweeter side of him tonight.

But, God, did she like it rough.

And Smoke's rough wasn't like any other roughness she could have found out in the wild. He laid hands better than any preacher in the Delta; He spoke truth to life better than any church mother this side of the Mississippi. When she needed to be handled, his roughness did the talking; But his sweetness was one of a kind, too. The man cared for her, kept her safe, kept money in her pocket, took her on dates and made everyone know she was his—though she fought him on that fact—and he knew how to fix her grandaddy's beat up Chevy Caprice like he'd manufactured it himself.

Keeping that in mind, her legs swung over the edge of her bed once more, and her feet carried her to the door of her bedroom. Through the doorframe and down the hallway she went to answer the man's call, and when she swung the front door open, he appeared to be that perfect, beautiful roughness right there in front of her.

"Who the fuck you think you talkin' to like that, Smoke," she sassed immediately, not letting him hear the way he made her feel. But he could see it in her eyes, how they lit up as his jaw clenched.

"I'm talkin' to the woman that can't keep that damn Chevy in workin' order," he growled, pushing his way into her home. His shoulders brushed hers, causing her heart to race at the feeling of his body in such a close vicinity. But her head spun when he kept walking, feet on a mission to her kitchen. She loved the way he took up space like he owned it, loved his unapologetic nature that came with an ease she had worked to understand.

Annie followed behind him, watching his upper back take over her home, the slight sway of his arms, the soft swirl of his hips.

"I don't know why you won't let me get rid of that thang for you," Smoke mumbled, washing his hands clean of the slick oil that coated his fingers. "It's too much trouble, and you deserve somethin' nicer."

"That thang is my granddaddy's car," she bit back with a nasty attitude. “I don’t need anything else ‘cause if it was good enough for him, it’s good enough for me.”

“That’s dumb logic.”

She rolled her eyes when he turned around just so he could see her annoyance. And in retaliation, he wiped his hands on her good towel just like she’d told him not to plenty of times before.

"What you doin' here anyway," she wondered aloud, confusion between her brows. "It's late, and I was on my way to bed. Then here you come bein’ loud in that Cutlass, tryin' to wake the dead."

"Oh, so you did hear me comin'," he griped. His veins bulged, forehead taut.

"Smoke," she sighed, rolling her eyes so hard that the man thought they'd get stuck.

"Nah," he refuted, shaking his head and stepping into her personal space. When he took a step forward, she took one back. "You knew I was outside and you ain't have that door open?"

"Smoke—"

"You testin' my patience, baby," he spoke strained. His neck craned to the side, taking in the way she kept backing up away from him. "I came all the way out here to get a piece of you 'fore I go on this trip, and now you wanna cut up?"

"How you know I wanna give you a piece," Annie questioned breathily. She was at the end of the line, back hitting the wall as he only increased his speed toward her. Her chest rose quick, protest in her throat but body completely caving already. She wanted it, needed it: that sweet roughness. She could hear the jingle of his belt, and her throat jumped at the thought of it wrapped around her neck like last time. Her eyes drifted down, the memory pulling her away for a moment too long.

Following her stare, Smoke took a long look at his belt, too. The memory burned just as hot for him, and the grin that blazed on his lips showed that the woman was in for it tonight. He reached a hand up, ghosting the nightgown and comparing the fabric to her skin. Her breath hitched each time he ventured off, and when his hand found purchase on her throat, she was about ready to call an audible.

"Baby," he breathed, voice dusky and raw. It made her insides churn and her head drift just a tad bit closer. But the man had her locked in place, grip constricting her movement—and breathing—bit by bit. "You ain't gotta want to do a damn thing. That’s my pussy, and she know it, too. Now fix that attitude before I gotta do it for you."

"Whatever," Annie mumbled, lips tight. She tried to face away but it was no use. At her lower body, her thighs were pressing together. A little further up, her arms were crossed beneath her breasts.

"You lookin' real pretty," Smoke complimented. His eyes were on her chest, the way her cleavage spilled out of the dress. "Think that's 'bout the best purchase I've ever made." It was a gift from weeks ago, but she hadn't let him see it on her body yet, and he was completely done pretending like the sight didn't make him want to pounce. It fit just right: having her titties high, her belly prominent, and her thighs flushed. It ended well before her knee, and barely covered anything, and she looked good as hell.

"Thank you," the woman blushed, throat still in his grip. He moaned at the sound, sweetness finally making its way through her brattiness—for now.

"You gon' be a good girl for me," the man asked darkly. He guided her body away from the wall with the palm to her throat and another at her waist. Each step brought her closer to her bedroom, each second that passed without a response brought her closer to a danger she couldn't live without.

Annie had been with a plethora of men, but none of them had been like Smoke. Where he was confident, they were insecure. Where he was a nigga driven by determination, they had no drive—no vision. Where he was a man that could dick her down for hours on end, they could only last minutes in her softness. And where he was dominant, they simply allowed Annie to walk all over them. But not Smoke; He was solid, and they both knew she needed that.

"I asked you a question, babygirl," he near growled as they passed through her bedroom door, but her mouth was still shut, mind clouded by her need to be put in her place. When he tsked, it was only a matter of seconds before he had her turned in the opposite direction, back to his chest. The older man worked his jaw, trying to reel in some of the aggression in his system, but it was no use; Annie was laughing.

“What’s so fuckin’ funny,” he barked, pulling her into his chest. His hand wrapped around her wrists, holding them at the top of her ass.

But she didn’t stop.

She just kept laughing. Louder and more insistent.

Smoke had had enough. Enough of her disrespect. Enough of her bratty behavior.

Bending Annie over the edge of her bed, he dared her to move, and she didn’t. But she did laugh—cackle even. It baffled the man and pissed him off past the point of being able to cope. The sound of metal flashing against leather filled the air, instantly replacing the hilarity in her throat. The young woman’s laugh died down into a fit of giggles, rumbling in her chest as she waited for her punishment to arrive. She wanted it, needed it, and when his belt rained down on the skin at the back of her thighs, she began to hiccup.

The pain was sharp, cutting at her deep brown skin and settling heavily. It lingered between the time he raised the belt above his head and brought it back down again. Livid was just one word to described the man. Aroused was a word that described them both. The grip of his palm around the leather brought heated friction to his skin, sparking up the emotion in his belly just as much as the bounce of the belt off her backside did. He became transfixed by the sound and sight. Annie was moaning, hiccuping around the giggles she wouldn't give up, and her thighs kept drifting closer to his hand, in need for more. Between her legs, her pussy throbbed.

"You like this shit," he accused with strain in his voice. His body was rumbling, belt raining down violently in the most perfect way. The accusation caused Annie to moan deeper. Her fingers tangled in her silk sheets, clawing for something to settle the rapid beating of her heart. He was taking her through the motions, completely unrelenting the entire time. “You fuckin’ slut,” he groaned, sweat prickling his forehead.

“Yes,” she moaned, rubbing her thighs together for more friction, and it only made him go harder.

The belt traveled higher—going from her thighs to the fat of her ass. Her gown had rode up high, exposing her skin and the black thong barely covering her pussy. Welps the color of red wine rose on she body, and down her face, tears as salty as the sea mingled with sweat just the same.

“Da-Daddy,” she choked. Her giggles were fully gone now, no more laughs filling the room. Just cries. Just pleads. Just calls of the man’s title she’d learned through experience only. The sound of her cry only made him scoff, so she reached back in search of the hand that had remained planted at her lower back. “Please, Daddy,” she begged once more, pulling at his wrist, not even knowing what she needed from him.

“You wanted this, remember?” The question was mocking, cutting through her and leaving her whimpering. “You wanted this when you heard me down that road. When I pulled up and you sat in this room like you wasn’t expectin’ me. When I had to fix that fuckin’ tire again. When you was mouthin’ off. I’m just givin’ you what you beggin’ for.”

The anger in his tone did nothing to quell her arousal and pain. She needed him—just like this—and she’d gotten that. But now she needed more.

Each time the belt landed, her body shook. She broke more every second. Annie could feel her heart stopping and her frame giving out from all the heavy pressure. Her stomach curled, and it felt like she was going to die—heaven flashing behind her eyes. But then, one last swipe of his belt hit her ass, and she came right there: on the edge of her bed with her gown up past her hips and her face buried in the sheets.

It was a full body breaking. From the top of her head to the bottom of her feet, everything tightened before the pull snapped in half. She convulsed all over, crying in a pleasure she couldn’t possibly describe.

Smoke was appalled. His arm was reared back high in the air, paused as he watched her climax rip through her. She’d never come this prematurely, never came without direct permission.

“The fuck,” he mumbled in disgust and disbelief and delight all at once. She looked damn good, pussy leaking through her panties, all over her thighs, and down on the silk sheets. She seemingly had a talent that they’d both just discovered together; But this was already a punishment, and now she was blatantly disobeying his rules.

Smoke’s belt clambered to the floor, landing in a heap as he pulled his pants and briefs down his legs. His shirt was next to be torn from his body, ripped over his head quickly so his attention could stay locked on Annie who was clawing her way up the bed. The young woman knew what was coming, but she was still trying to save herself. In the midst of her climax—pussy still constricting, clit still throbbing—she could sense his anger, could feel it towering over her trembling frame.

“Turn that ass over,” he demanded while following after her. He grabbed her feet, flipping her body with a quickness so that her back met the cool temperature of the sheets. She was yanked down just enough, panties ripped off, gown tossed over her head, legs cranked open, and knees pushed into her chest.

Then he devoured her.

Locking his mouth around her dripping arousal, Smoke swallowed every drop of her cum. He sucked hard, lapped like a madman on his way to the electric chair. And Annie still hadn’t recovered from her orgasm. She was running from his tongue and praying to the Lord above for a calvary that wouldn’t come. She was at the older man’s mercy, and she had rightfully earned her punishment.

His hands stayed at the back of her thighs, pressing against the deep purple and red bruises to ensure that her legs stayed right where he wanted them. Her next orgasm was approaching fast. He could feel it in the flutter she was trying to conceal, and her moans and cries had evolved into gasps and chirps—one of the prettiest sounds.

Tongue working overtime, he swirled her clit, drawing more of her arousal from her entrance before dipping his tongue there. He drank from the source and moaned at its sweet and savory tang.

“Best pussy and nigga like me don’ ever had,” he groaned into her parted legs. Annie squealed from the vibration of his words, hands falling to his shoulders for stability. Then he smacked the side of her ass, growling deeply as he pushed her further into the bed.

“Smoke,” she gasped, throat raw. “I can’t ta-take it, Daddy!”

“Yes, you can,” he persisted roughly, palming her ass where his belt had landed the hardest. It stung just right. “You my good girl, ain’t you?”

While he uttered the words, he never once pulled off of her. He kept going, speaking between laps at her clit, eyes boring into hers and beckoning her to speak. He was still pissed about everything, but she had a way with him. Annie was the only person who could cause him to forget every lick of sense he had, but the night was still young.

“Ye-yes,” she replied, shaking on his tongue. Satisfied, the man fully dove back in, eyes now locked on the way her belly folded, the way her titties bounced, how her thighs were warm to the touch from her punishment.

Outside, suitcases sat at the ready for the trip he needed to take—somewhere far off and dangerous. But inside, he had his favorite and only girl ready to break open for a second time, and he hadn’t even begun to fuck her properly yet.

Pulling away from her with a pop, the man stood back, stroking his dick from base to tip while he watched her gain her bearings. Annie was locked up in shock, confused why her pleasure had been so suddenly stopped, misunderstanding that she wasn’t supposed to be enjoying herself in the first place. When her eyes fluttered open, her breath caught in her throat. The veins in Smoke’s hand bulged as he pumped his length, biting his bottom lip while getting off to the sight of her. It was too much, and it was too late at night, and she felt too open—but her legs didn’t close. She let him watch and indulge in her deliciousness: thighs coated in his anger and her cum, the two mingling perfectly.

Her hands drifted over her body, fingers ghosting skin softly. She pulled at her nipples, pressed her titties together—all while he watched and jerked off.

“You like that, Daddy,” she whispered into the air, dying to hear his answer to her question, though she already knew it. Of course he liked it—the man fucking loved it. She was putting on the prettiest show, flaunting her wet, tired, fucked out body just for him.

Smoke’s hand sped up as an answer to her question, but his mouth stayed closed. Then Annie got up on her knees; And winked; And turned around; And moved to all fours before arching her back, and the man had to stop himself from cumming then and there. His fist paused mid stroke, tightening around his dick and locking like a vice. She knew how much he adored her ass: when she switched her hips; when her too-little dresses rode up her thighs; and, especially, when she was bent over like this with nothing obstructing his view.

“Fuck, baby,” he sighed dreamily, taking one step in her direction. He pushed through the rough heat in his throat as she commanded his attention with ease. His fist worked his tip, keeping the head swollen as he noted the way she clenched around nothing. Her pussy was gaping, begging for attention. He shook his head like he’d been daydreaming. “You make it so hard to stay mad at you.”

“I know it,” she chuckled earnestly. Her head was thrown to the side of her body, watching how he stood behind her with his eyes held up in admiration. Biting the tip of her nail, she reached back with the other hand, ghosting her pussy lips. “Just put the tip in,” she whined, circling her clit lazily as she watched. She knew he was trying not to cum so early, but they both needed just a little bit more sensation.

Smoke felt his lower body spark from the persuasive tone. Annie was always good at ushering him in whatever direction she wanted him to go. It always started slow—in this instance with her arching in front of him—then it ramped up to her calling his name sweetly or full on pouting over what they both wanted.

He took another step forward, and his dick was just inches from her drooling center.

“Just the tip?”

His question was full of sarcasm, exasperated laugh tumbling into the room. He shook his head again, once, then he persisted.

When he penetrated her velvet walls, they both had to refrain from pressing any closer together. Smoke’s hands found Annie’s hips, and the woman’s eyes moved to stare at the wall directly in front of her. She needed the distraction because all that man’s thickness being behind her had her wanting to do something reckless. And she had just stepped back into his good graces. Annie fluttered around his head, still pulsing from her earlier orgasm and the denial of her second one. The feeling of him—raw and hefty—had her mind reeling.

Palms now cupping her ass, the man couldn’t stop imaging her riding his shit, taking control in the way he allowed before pulling her back in. Her arch deepened at the same time that she tightened her grip around him, and his fingers twitched in recognition. She always got him this way seemingly without much effort, but he didn’t mind it. Annie didn’t have to do anything special to make Smoke cave. Captivated by the feeling, the man couldn’t help but to give in and start fucking her fully and completely.

“Fuck that shallow shit,” he grunted, reaching over her arched back. His fingers wrapped around her headscarf that was tilted in one odd direction. Then he pulled until it came fluttering off. Her hair now revealed to him, Smoke wrapped the long braids around his fist, using the tension to provide stability while he continued to pummel her with dick.

“Oh—fuck—Smoke,” Annie moaned, each sound in time with his steady thrusts. He pounded with a purpose, set a pace that had her hiccuping again. Everything came flashing back into his mind again. Every annoyance. Every indiscretion. Everything she’d done to piss him off. Smoke still couldn’t wrap his mind around the fact that she had cum without his permission, and on top of that, she had expected him to forget about it. She was almost successful in throwing him off, but with her attention only on how her body felt in this moment, she missed the trouble the man was plotting.

His pace quickened, hips snapping violently. It forced a greedy scream from Annie’s throat because that was exactly how rough she liked it. He pulled her hair tight, arching her back deeper. He smacked her ass, leaving handprints alongside the belt marks. But then it just kept getting quicker, harder, deeper to the point that her insides felt deliciously bruised.

“Daddy,” she slurred, hips falling back into him in an effort to lighten the blow. Her stomach was on fire. Her legs burned in exhaustion, but he wouldn’t stop. Smoke fucked her through the pain and filled her with more pleasure than she honestly needed it. When she began to scream bloody murder, his words got reckless.

“This what you wanted, huh,” he threw back hotly. His cadence was slow. Tone thick and heavy with the heat that had entered the room. “See you be fuckin’ wit’ them young niggas,” he roared, anger beading off of him in the form of sweat and his palm to her ass, “but I ain’t one of them, baby. This real grown nigga shit ‘round here, and it’s time you fully get a taste of who you fuckin’ wit’.”

Annie was overcome by sensation. Overstimulation had become one with her body making her ears ring and her toes curl and her pussy flutter and her mouth water and her thighs clench. She knew who Smoke Moore was—always had—but this was different, and she feared he was going to put her into her place for good. His punishments compounded all at once: the pounding and ass smacking and hair pulling—and those filthy ass words that stung in their own beautiful way. He called her his slut and his bitch, made her understand that she was the only woman he’d have folded up and fucked through the mattress.

Drooling on the silk sheets, she felt her body beginning to surrender once more as she slackened everywhere. Smoke being the attentive man he was saw it happening, so he pulled her up by her hair. Her back met his chest again while he continued to pull her by her braids. He brought her eyes to him, and with her mouth wide open in a moan, he spat in it—rough, honest, possessive.

“Yeah,” he growled, teeth bared in an ugly scowl. “You finna take all this dick. You mine, baby. Mine to fuck. Mine to bend over. Mine to command. My Woman. My Bitch. My Fuck Toy.” Annie’s eyes watered as she swallowed him, nodding her head profusely as his spit slid down the back of her throat—because, yes, she indeed was all those things.

For him and him alone.

The glide of him warmed her body on its way down. Something in the disrespect that was spitting in another person's mouth drove her crazy. She was practically sat in his lap now as he fucked up into her, and regaining a bit of her mind, the young woman started fucking him back. She did it as diligently as she could, throwing her hips back every couple of thrusts.

“I’m sorry, Daddy,” she pouted, bouncing closer to his rhythm now—not running but surrendering. “I’ll be good I promise.”

“You mean that shit?” He whispered in her ear.

“Yes! Yes, I swear!” She shouted back at him.

“Well, prove it then.”

The invitation was sent, the door open for her to do her very best. She fought back, head reeling but body staying right where she was. She met him thrust for thrust, and never once did she back down. The ache was glorious, and the stretch was taking her over the edge. When she felt her orgasm rising again, Annie couldn't help the way her body screamed for a release only Smoke could allow. Greedy, desperate, and hungry, she begged him for it. Pleaded. Negotiated her rights.

And he let her have it.

For the first time all night, she could come without guilt, and the moment he said yes, she took it and ran with it.

“Fuck, yes,” she cried, crumbling forward into the sheets. She fell flat as the orgasm wrecked her body, but Smoke chased behind her, continuing to overfill her with dick. “I’m sorry, Daddy! I swear—I'll be good!” Her words were hardly coherent, things about how she was thankful for his kindness and would listen from now on, but they both knew she'd be back on her bullshit soon enough. Annie thrived in pissing the man off. It was like foreplay for them, forcing their bodies toward each other.

“Ride this fuckin’ dick,” the older man barked, back propped against the bed frame as he put Annie to work. Smacking her ass. Pulling her hair. Forcing her hips into a steady bounce.

The time between positions had faded into a haze of pleasure followed by orgasm after orgasm. Annie had lost count of how many times the man had pushed her to the brink. Smoke had cum twice himself before quickly recovering. His trip was long forgotten, obligations left outside the woman's home as he succumbed to her body time and time again. He had kept calling her names—roughness being one of the only things he knew—but he was also soft with her. When she'd get tired, he'd do the thrusting for her. When she whined too deeply, he'd lean over and plant a kiss to the edge of her hairline to quiet the ache. He stayed right there through it all, and right now, Annie was trying to show him that she could hold herself together and talk him through the motions too.

She started riding deeper, slowing her grind as she fluttered around his length. Inner thighs pressing into his outer ones, she looked into his eyes—stare longing and persistent. She could almost see his point of breaking: when his rough exterior got fully broken down by his adoration. There was no mistaking that Annie had him hooked, and as much as he hated to admit it for the sake of an argument, there was nothing she couldn't do to ruin him.

"You feel so good," the young woman cooed against his lips, teasing him with the prospect of a kiss. Smoke hissed when she dragged her pussy up to his tip and just clenched around him. Then her hips snapped back down with haste. The sound reverberated as she continued the action, and her words just continued to get sweeter. "That dick make me so greedy, Big Daddy," she whimpered. "Make me lose my mind sometimes."

Her lips were breathes away from his, and how slow she was riding made his own eyelashes flutter shut on occasion.

"Baby," Smoke swooned, ecstasy taking over his body. The feeling of her wrapped around him combined with the scent of their oversexed bodies had his eyes rolling back. And Annie was beyond proud of the effect she had over him. She worked the lower half of her body into his, pressing her titties against his chest, and when his mouth opened in a delightfully gruff moan, she took him in for a kiss.

Her mouth engulfed the man's, swallowing both of their moans. Her tongue raked his. Her hands fussed with the hair at the nape of his neck. And when he came, she held him close while he painted her walls white and hot with his euphoria. And directly behind him, she fell apart for the last time, milking him dry as she collapsed into his spent body.

They were both fucked in numerous ways.

Their bodies were beyond tired, in desperate need of rest and sleep and energy. But there was no mistaking the way their hearts beat rapidly when they met each other’s gazes in the now quiet bedroom. They hid it behind arguments, money, and rough sex, and they weren’t going to stop that any time soon. But in that flash of time when all was said and done and they were both fucked thoroughly, each of them felt something oddly close to love thrumming beneath the surface.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

word count: ~6,150

a/n: do we like the idea of a preview more than a summary?? i couldn't make my brain work enough to to come up with one this time around lmaoo

taglist: comment HERE to be added!

Evening had blanketed the luxurious ranch, the sky shifted from gold to a deep violet and the vast land responded in its own quiet language. Katydids, field crickets, and cicadas woke. The pond gave off a soft shimmer. Somewhere near the tree line, the horses flicked their tails and moved closer to the barn, sensing that night had come. 

Annie Moore stepped onto the spacious porch and paused, letting the air wrap around her. It had weight to it here. Southern heat. Fragrance. Memory. Evening on their land carried Smoke’s signature from the dark wood siding of the house to the line of lanterns he installed along the porch rail for her. They glowed like small fire spirits guiding her back every time she wandered too far. 

The luxury ranch stretched wide and private, a pocket of the world carved out just for the two of them. Acres of pasture rolled away into the distance. A creek curved through the back woods like a hidden vein. Dear, and other forest animals stepped carefully near the pond at dusk, lowering their heads as if paying silent respect to whatever lived in the stillness. Smoke always said the land was alive. Annie believed him. It breathed around her and it listened. 

The dogs had already begun their evening patrol. Bramble trotted along the fence line, a hulking shadow with eyes that missed nothing. Jet lingered closer to the porch, pacing until he was certain everything was as it should be. Annie watched him settle, then glanced towards the barn where a warm light glowed through the half-open doors. Smoke was still inside, finishing whatever he needed to finish before he put the day down. 

The barn always pulled Annie’s attention. Its cedar beams held the scent of hay and leather, and the stable lamps casted a soft amber wash over the stalls. Midnight, Smoke’s stallion, turned his head at the sound of footsteps, ears pricking forward. Honey drop—mild-tempered and curious—leaned out of her stall as if expecting Annie to come in and stroke her muzzle. Flint and River shifted in the straw, the gentle scrape of hooves echoing in the quiet. 

But tonight, Annie didn’t walk towards the barn. She stood on the porch, watching the last of the sun sink behind the ridge, the ranch house behind her. A house Smoke designed to feel lived-in and intimate instead of ostentatious. Dark wood floors. Soft lamps. Deep ruggs that cushioned her steps. A fireplace that never quite lost its ember scent. It was the kind of home that asked nothing of them except honestly. 

Inside, the living room held a peaceful quiet. The broad stone fireplace flickered, casting shadows along the walls. Smoke’s favorite armchair sat angled towards the fire, his book still open on the table beside it. The kitchen beyond it glowed with under-cabinet lights, a soft golden wash over marble counters and shiny appliances. Pots hung neatly above the island. Fresh herbs and spices waited in jars and a heavy-duty wooden cutting board sat on the kitchen island like Annie planned to cook later. 

Their bedroom sat on the second floor towards the back of the house where night always felt thickest and the quiet didn’t break unless they broke it. Their bed was low and wide, dressed in black linen sheets. The balcony door was cracked open, letting in a faint breeze that carried the scent of pine and distant earth. Annie could see the faint outline of the pond from where she stood, moonlight reflecting on its service. Smoke built this place for peace. Annie turned it into home. The ranch held both desire and a soft domesticity. 

Annie eased further down the porch steps. Smoke’s silhouette moved inside the barn, tall and broad, presence unmistakable even from afar. She watched him for a long moment, the easy strength in the way he lifted the feed bag. The quiet confidence in how he moved through a space that obeyed him. Her pulse answered him from across the field. 

It always did. 

Everything on this land—every horse, every breeze, every grain of dust that’s suspended in golden light—knew them. Knew their history. Knew the magnetic pull between their bodies. Knew the way Smoke’s voice softened only for her. Knew the way Annie curved towards him before he even touched her. 

Annie stepped back inside, the door closing behind her with a soft click, sealing her into the low-lit peace of their home. Shadows deepened along the hallway walls as she moved towards the kitchen. 

It greeted her with open arms. 

Wide counters of dark stone. A double farmhouse sink. Tall-backed leather stools lining the island. Everything smelling faintly of fresh herbs and wood polish. 

Annie reached for the small alcove tucked between the pantry and the far wall. Smoke had designed it specifically for their wine, built into chilled shelving that displayed bottles like artifacts. Their vineyard was a passion project, a piece of their legacy, and the pride of the collection sat at eye level: 

Boudreaux & Moore Reserve. 

A full-bodied Southern red blend cultivated from Delta soil that runs deep with memory, mineral, and heat. Grown under long Mississippi suns and cooled by river wind at dusk. The wine carries both structure and soul. 

It’s a wine of contrast. 

Dark but luminous. Refined but untamed. 

Each vintage is produced in limited quantity, hand-harvested and aged with patience, never rushed. The result is a red that doesn’t simply sit on the palate, it settles in, lingers, and speaks back. 

Annie smiled as her fingers brushed the label. 

A proprietary blend, typically composed of Cabernet Sauvignon for backbone, tannin, and depth. Syrah for spice, smoke, and body. And Petit Verdot for color, structure, and a subtle wild edge. The exact ratios shift slightly with each harvest, guided by instinct, climate, and taste rather than rigid formula. 

In the glass, Boudreaux & Moore Reserve pours a deep garnet-black, almost opaque at its center, with a slow-moving viscosity that clings to the bowl. At the rim, a faint crimson halo catches the light. A quiet reminder that beneath its darkness, there is warmth. 

The bottle is heavy, dark glass—nearly black. The label sits against it like a quiet statement. Matte black textured paper embossed in aged gold foil. At the center, a grapevine rises from the bottom of the label, its roots thick and grounded. As it climbs, the vine begins to unravel into soft curls of smoke, fading into the upper design. Hidden within the border, nearly invisible unless studied closely, are fine-lined details: 

Subtle Rootwork-inspired patterns.

Coordinates of the vineyard.

A faint, almost ghostlike glow etched into the vine lines.

At the bottom edge, a single line reads: 

“From soil to spirit” 

Two forces. Two histories. Two fires learning how to burn in harmony.

Annie pulled a bottle free, the glass cool in her hand. The cork released with a soft pop. The scent rose immediately. 

Black cherry. 

Warm spice.

A hint of dark plum and oak. 

Thick and sultry on the tongue. 

A wine that unfolded slowly. A wine with weight. 

She poured herself a glass, the rich color catching the kitchen light and glowed like garnet. Annie carried it through the living room and took her usual seat on the corner of the sectional. The place where she could see the kitchen. The hallway. The porch. The world felt anchored from here. And on nights like this, she liked to sit and listen for the sound of Smoke coming home. 

The first sign was the creak of the porch. Then, the door opened. The unmistakable sound of his boots. Smoke always stopped at the threshold. Always respected the house she poured herself into. He braced one hand against the wall as he untugged the heel of the first cowboy boot. Then the second. When he stepped inside fully, the air shifted. 

Smoke filled the doorway in a way that made the room feel smaller, hotter, more aware of itself. The barn’s heat clung to him. The scent of cedar, horse, sweat, and something unmistakably him drifted forward with each step.  

His body was everything Annie loved. Broad shoulders, thick muscles. Arms carved from heavy work and heavy habits. A chest framed by a white tank that clung to him, damp in places from the work he’d done in the barn. Deep, brown skin kissed bronze at the high points. Neck glistening faintly. Jaw shadowed. Lips soft and plush but set in a stoic, focused way he carried when he had been working. 

He wore denim. Well-worn. Low on his hips. Dark where sweat and dirt had touched. Faded where his thighs stretched the fabric. The sight of him alone could bring a flush to her. 

Her man. Her husband. Her impossible softness wrapped inside a body built for strength. 

Smoke didn’t glance her way at first, he headed straight to the sink. He turned on the faucet and ran his hands under the water, rubbing away dust and the lingering feel of leather reins. He lathered his hands good twice, his back flexed with each motion. Shoulders rising and settling. The tank stretching across muscle she had memorized with her palms. 

Annie sipped her wine slowly, enjoying the view. Enjoying the warmth pooling in her belly. Enjoying the simple luxury of watching her husband move through the space they built together. 

Smoke reached for some paper towels, dried his hands, tossed it in the trash, and only then did he look her way. 

His eyes softened. Just enough for her to feel it. The quiet between them grew charged. Familiar. 

Annie lifted her glass again, just to give her hands something to do while she admired him. Smoke leaned his hip against the counter and studied her in that way he did when he knew she had something on her mind. 

Annie smiled. Knowing. 

Smoke crossed the room with the steady confidence that always made Annie’s breath hitch. His steps were unhurried. They came from a man who never needed to announce himself. Smoke stopped in front of her, casting a shadow over her body. Annie lounged along the sectional like she had been poured onto it, her mint green abaya dress draped in soft folds, one shoulder exposed, the fabric slipping just enough to reveal a hint of collarbone and the gleam of her gold jewelry. The dress hid the fullness of her curves in a way that somehow made her look even more decadent. Smoke’s eyes swept over her, slow and appreciative, as if confirming she was exactly as he remembered from the moment he left her that morning. 

Smoke leaned down. Not with haste. Not with hunger alone. With ownership and affection wound together. His fingers slid beneath her chin, tilting her face up to his. Annie didn’t lift her eyes right away. She slowly dragged her gaze up, blinking slow. 

Smoke kissed her hard. A deep, claiming kiss that pulled a soft sound from her throat. His mouth moved against hers with certainty. His tongue stroked slow at first, then deeper when she opened for him. The kiss wasn’t rushed. The warm grunt he let slip vibrated against her lips. His hand held her chin in place while he tasted her and when he finally broke the kiss, he didn’t pull far. Smoke dragged his mouth along her cheek, down to the spot beneath her jaw where her pulse fluttered. His lips found her neck, and he pressed a lingering kiss there breathing her in before finally straightening.

Annie let her fingers graze her lower lip, still tasting him. Smoke watched the gesture as if it were a private performance meant for him alone. 

He moved to his armchair beside the fireplace. The chair was wide, dark, softened by years of use and shaped to the weight of his body. Smoke sat heavily, spreading his legs without thinking, denim stretching over thick thighs. The white tank still clung to his chest, darkened slightly from sweat. He reached for the cedar humidor on the table beside him. His thick fingers moved with practiced ease as he opened the lid, selected a cigar, and held it between his fingers. 

Smoke clipped the tip with a quick, clean motion. The cutter clicked with a sound Annie always found strangely intimate. Smoke lifted the cigar to his nose, inhaled its scent, and closed his eyes briefly as if taking measure of the moment. He struck a match instead of using his lighter. He preferred the flame. Preferred the control. The match flared, casting a warm glow across his knuckles as he brought it to the cigar’s end. He rotated the cigar slowly, coaxing the tobacco to life. The ember bloomed red. Smoke drew the flame towards him with a soft pull, then shook the match out with a flick. 

He settled back, one arm draped over the armrest, the other holding the cigar with lazy dominance. Legs wide. Chest rising and falling calmly as he released the first slow stream of smoke. 

His eyes never left Annie. 

She sipped her wine under that gaze, letting the glass tilt languidly towards her lips. The red glow sat against her glossy lips before she drank, savoring the richness. Smoke’s eyes followed the movement, the swallow of her throat, the way her fingers curled the stem of the glass. 

“You get into anything today?” Smoke asked, voice low and unhurried. It was a simple question, but the tone curled around her like a hand sliding up her thigh. 

“Work,” Annie said, keeping her voice steady even though the air between them felt too thick with tension, “Checked on the vineyard. Tasted a new bach they barreling.” 

Smoke nodded slowly, pulling once more from his cigar. The ember brightened and the smoke drives in a smooth ribbon from his lips. 

“That why you glowing like that?” 

Annie smiled into her wine. She tucked one leg beneath her and shifted, letting the abaya slide higher over her thigh. Smoke’s eyes dropped, subtle, then lifted to meet her eyes again. 

“Maybe I just missed my husband,” Annie said.

Smoke’s jaw flexed. He took another pull from the cigar, exhaled a cloud that curled into the air, and tilted his head slightly as he watched her.

“Did you?”

“Mm-hm,” Annie let the sound linger, “Watching you smoking that cigar ain’t helping.” 

Smoke smirked, the expression slow. He tapped ash into the tray, leaned deeper into his seat, and kept her in his unwavering gaze. 

“You keep looking at me like that,” he said, “And I’m not gon’ let you finish that wine.” 

Annie’s lips parted just slightly, “Maybe that’s the point.” 

Smoke’s exhaled turned into a quiet laugh, low and rough, “Woman…you know exactly what you doin’.” 

Annie sipped again, never looking away from him, “And you like it.” 

Smoke didn’t bother hiding his agreement. His eyes dropped once more to her exposed shoulder, the shine of her gold, the soft curve of her thigh under the mint green fabric. When he looked up again, his gaze was darker. Focused. Heavy with every intention she had been hoping he’d catch. 

“I always like you,” he said. 

And the way he said it made Annie’s pulse thud beneath her skin. 

She held his gaze, “You gon’ stare at me all night or you gon’ say something?” 

Smoke let out a quiet breath, not quite a laugh.

“Ain’t my fault you sittin’ over there lookin’ like God took his time.” 

Annie smiled, bringing the glass to her lips to mask her blush, “you been sayin’ that since we were young.”

“And I meant it then,” Smoke replied, eyes steady on hers, “but it hit different now,” he pulled from the cigar again, exhaling a slow curl of smoke, “you know you fine, right? Don’t roll them eyes. I’m tellin’ you the truth.”

 Annie angled her body towards him, the wine catching a faint shimmer across her mouth, “you only sayin’ all that cause you want somethin’,” she teased. 

“I’m sayin’ it ‘cause it’s real.” smoke nodded once, like he was stamping the words in place, “ain’t nobody on this earth I’d rather come home to than you.”

Annie felt that. 

“Long day?” 

“Long week,” he answered, rubbing his thumb along the side of the cigar, “Business. Barn was hot as hell. Midnight tryin’ to act up again. Flint damn near stepped on my foot,” Smoke shook his head but there was warmth in it, “but then I walk in here, and you sittin’ all pretty in green waitin’ on me? Day start lookin’ better.” 

Annie lowered her glass, “I wasn’t waitin’.” 

“Yes you were,” Smoke’s voice dipped, easy and assured, “you always wait for me, woman. Even when you pretendin’ you ain’t.” 

Annie held his gaze for a long moment. Their history lingered in the quiet between them. Years of learning each other, years of wanting each other in ways neither had language for until they found it together. 

“You miss me?” Annie asked softly.

Smoke’s eyes softened, “Yeah, baby,” he didn’t blink, “I did.”

Annie breathed in, “I missed you too.” 

Smoke leaned forward, forearms resting on his thighs, “C’mere then.” 

Annie gave a small hum of amusement, “You already kissed me, Smoke.”

“Didn’t say that was enough,” Smoke tapped aah gently into the tray, “I said, C’mere.” 

Annie didn’t make a move. She sipped instead, teasing him with the angle of her throat.

“Maybe I’m comfortable.” 

Smoke studied her like she was the only thing in the room worth knowing. 

“You comfortable,” he said quietly, “‘cause you know I’ll come get you if I want you bad enough. And I do.” 

Annie’s smile deepened, lazy and sexy, “then come get me.”

Smoke held her eyes for a beat longer, hunger simmering beneath the look. 

“You keep talkin’ with that voice of yours,” he warned, voice low, “And I’m a forget about this cigar.” 

Annie rested her head back against the cushion, the gold at her throat catching the firelight, “maybe I want you to.” 

Smoke’s mouth curved slow into a dimpled smirk, “You gon’ get me in trouble.”

“That why you love me.” 

Smoke nodded once, “one of the reasons.” 

The tension was a familiar pull that lived in the air of their home. 

“How long you been thinkin’ ‘bout me today?” Smoke asked.

Annie set her glass down gently, “Since before the sun came up.”

Smoke’s lips parted just slightly, appreciation moving through his expression like a quiet current.

“Yeah. That’s what I thought.” 

Annie tilted her head, “How long you been thinkin’ about me?”

Some didn’t look away, “all damn day, baby.” 

Their eyes held. 

Smoke let the last ribbon of cigar smoke drift from his full lips before resting the cigar in the ashtray. He took one slow breath, eyes still on Annie as if he were deciding whether to stay in his chair or go where his body already decided to go. 

Then, he rose. 

The chair creaked under his weight as he stood, broad shoulders, denim pulling tight over his thighs. Annie watched him, wine glass loose in her hand, her eyes warm with a softness she didn’t offer to anyone else. 

Smoke crossed the room and sank into the sectional beside her. The cushion dipped beneath his weight, pulling her closer. Smoke reached for her ankles with gentle yet work-worn hands, the contrast of tenderness and size making her breath slow in her chest. Smoke lifted her feet onto his lap, settling them over his crotch. 

His brow lifted, “when you get these done?” 

Annie smiled, sliding her toes against his thigh, “today.”

Smoke took her left foot in both his hands, thumbs tracing her arch. The neon yellow polish gleamed against her deep, dark skin, bright as summer lemons. Clean lines. Smooth cuticles. A shine you could see from across the room. As if the color was made for her. Smoke turned her foot slightly, admiring it the way he admired her dresses, her hair, her jewelry—quietly but with real appreciation. 

“They pretty, baby,” he said, his voice having a rough edge to it but the admiration softened it, “bright as hell, but pretty.” 

“That’s Crystal’s work,” Annie replied, brushing her dress over her knee, “she came over this afternoon.”

Smoke nodded slowly, “she know what she doin’. These nice,” he shifted his thumb, brushing the pad along the underside of her toes, “I like this color on you.”

“You say that everytime I try something bold.” Annie teased.

“That’s ’cause you make everything look bold,” his eyes flicked up to meet hers, “you know how good you look right now?”

Annie let her smile widen, “you sayin’ that ‘cause I’m relaxin’ or ‘cause my feet in your lap?” 

Smoke leaned back against the couch, legs spreading a little wider under her claves, “I’m sayin’ it ‘cause it’s true. Dress hangin’ off your shoulder. Skin all glowy. This bright yellow against that beautiful skin. You sittin’ up here lookin’ like you know I can’t stop watchin’ you.” 

Annie tilted her head, “You can’t.” 

Smoke chucked under his breath, deep and low, the sound rolling through his chest, “No. I can’t.” 

Annie moved her toes again, gently pressing into the denim crease at his thigh, “you like them that much, huh?”

“I do,” Smoke’s voice dropped, “I like all of you tonight.” 

Annie felt that in her belly, “You tryna butter me up, Smoke?”

“Nah,” he said, shaking his head once, “I’m tellin’ you what I see. You sittin’ pretty in that dress. New nails. Drinkin’ wine. You know damn well you fine.” 

Annie lifted her glass to her lips, “you act like you ain’t seen me dressed up before.” 

“I have,” he continued rubbing slow circles into her arch, his hands big and warm around her foot, “You look rested. Soft. Like your day treated you good.” 

“It did”

“That right?” Smoke angled her foot in his palm, studying it again, “Crystal do your hands too?”

Annie held up her left hand, letting him see the matching neon manicure.

“She sure did.”

Smoke’s eyes warmed, a slight grin tugging his mouth, revealing slight dimples, “Lemme see.” 

Annie reached out, offering him her fingers. Smoke held her hand with the same tenderness he gave her feet, his thumb moving across the bright polish like he was testing the texture.

“You somethin’ else,” Smoke said, “Come in here lookin’ like this and think I’m just gon’ sit way over there.” 

Annie smirked, “would you prefer I toned it down, Mr. Moore?”

“Hell nah,” Smoke released kissed her nails before releasing her hand slowly, letting his fingers trail along her wrist, “I want you loud if you wanna be loud. Soft if you wanna be soft. Neon yellow if that’s what you feelin’. Long as you keep bringin’ it home to me.” 

Annie let her head rest against the cushion, a warmth spreading through her chest, “you really like them.” She tried to hide her blush behind her wine glass. 

Annie l loved to hear Smoke gush about her. She eats it all up. Words of affirmation being one of her love languages. And it made it all the more better coming from her husband that didn’t do much talking in the first place. 

Smoke nodded, “I like anything you choose for yourself. And I like watchin’ you show it off,” Smoke’s gaze dipped to her exposed thigh, “You know I’m weak for you.”

Annie wet her already glossy lips, “you tryna tell me somethin’, Smoke?”

“Just speakin’ on what’s true,” he said quietly, fingers gliding over her skin.

Annie took another slow sip of wine while Smoke watched her, thumb tracing idle patterns along her calf. The heat between them spread slowly. Intentionally. Like something the walls of the ranch recognized and leaned toward. 

“Come sit closer,” Smoke said, voice thin with affection and something deeper. Hungrier. 

Annie shifted, sliding her hips gently towards him, and Smoke’s hands guided her feet even closer across his lap. His touch never left her skin. The movement opened the dress along her thighs, a soft spill of fabric that revealed more of her skin. Smoke adjusted himself, one hand cupping her heel, the other gliding up the sole of her foot with slow, practiced pressure. His touch was firm yet tender like a massage that unraveled her piece by piece. 

“Mm,” Smoke hummed, thumbs working into her arch, “Look at my pretty girl takin’ care of herself.” 

Annie’s breath dipped. She felt the praise settle into her chest the way his hands always settled into her hips when he held her from behind—steady, grounding, warm. Smoke continued working his fingers into the curve of her foot, his gaze pinned on her face with quiet hunger. 

“You somethin’ special, Annie. Every damn time I look at you, I see somethin’ new to love on.” 

Her pulse fluttered. Annie was far from shy, especially not with him, but the way he said it did something to her. She let her toes trace the worn denim that stretched over his thighs, enjoying the way his jaw flexed just slightly at the contact. 

Smoke’s voice dropped lower, a tone reserved only for her, “Lookin’ like my peace and my troubles at the same time.” 

Annie smiled, her expression flirty, “If I’m trouble, you raised me into it, Papa.” 

Smoke’s thumbs slows their circles. His eyes traveled from her toes, up her calf, over the slip of her dress, and finally to her mouth. Annie felt her breath catch. Smoke’s stillness always meant something. Did something. 

His voice found her again, threaded with command and affection.

“You been wearin’ your plug like Papa want you to?” 

The question didn’t land gently. It landed with power. 

Annie’s whole body tightened. It wasn’t from fear. The air around them turned molten. Annie felt the change low in her stomach, an ache that came when he stepped fully into that role she asked for. Wanted. Craved. Her lips parted on a breath she didn’t realize she had been holding. Her toes curled against his thigh. Her thighs squeezed together as if trying to contain something that didn’t want containing. 

Smoke saw it immediately. He always did. His eyes sharpened, darkened, but the warmth never left them. His was not a man guessing. This was a man who knew his wife’s body better than she did. 

“Mm-hmm,” he said softly, thumb striking her ankle, “there it is.”

Annie swallowed, her voice when it came, was quiet but steady, “why you askin’ me that right now?”

“‘Cause you sittin’ here lookin’ ready for me. Everytime you look at me like that, I think about how you feel when you got it in for me. How you melt when I check,” Smoke leaned in slightly, eyes locked on hers, “How you open.” 

The last word brushed over her mind like a hand cupping her pussy.

Annie’s heartbeat quickened. It was impossible to hide from a man who watched her this closely. The wine she’d been sipping settled warm in her chest, but the heat building now came from a different place entirely. 

Smoke’s hand slipped higher along her calf, strong fingers tracing the softest line, “Answer me, baby.” 

Annie breathed out slowly, lips parting. She lifted her eyes to his, letting him see everything she wasn’t saying yet. 

“Yeah,” she whispered, “I been wearin’ it.” 

Smoke’s grip on her calf tightened.

“Good girl.” 

The words didn’t explode between them, they settled. They sank. They found the spot inside her that only he ever touched. Annie felt warmth bloom. Her back softened into the sectional, her thighs eased open as if her body made the decision before her mind could catch up. 

Smoke saw it. Smoke felt it. Smoke owned that shift. 

“That’s my woman,” he whispered, pulling her foot higher into his lap, his thumb stroking the inside of her ankle, “knew somethin’ was different when I walked in. You been holdin’ it in for me.” 

Her breath trembled, “Maybe.” 

Smoke’s smile was dangerous and deeply loving, “ain’t no fuckin’ maybe ‘bout you tonight.” 

He brought her foot to his mouth and kissed the inside of her ankle, arousal blooming where his lips touched her skin.

“Now, tell Papa what you need.” 

Annie’s breath eased out of her in one steady stream. His thumb kept slow circles against her skin, patient, gentle, a quiet reassurance that she could speak freely. That Papa is there to hear what his baby girl had to say. To tell him what she needed. To speak freely. 

Annie lifted her gaze to him—soft, open, certain. 

“I’m ready,” she said.

Smoke stilled. He wasn’t tense or surprised, just fully present. His gaze settled on her face, reading her with the same care he used on her body. 

Annie’a voice came low, “I wanna take you fully now,” Her fingers tightened slightly around the edge of the sectional, “I’m not scared anymore, baby. I want all of you…and I want it deeper…”

Smoke’s voice softened in a way she only ever heard in moments like this, “You sure, Annie?” 

She nodded, the movement small but strong, “I’m sure.” 

“You know we ain’t gotta rush,” Smoke said, still rubbing her arch with the softest pressure, “we can stay where we at. Keep usin’ that size plug ‘til you good. Ain’t no timeline on this.” 

Annie’s chest warmed. His patience was never performative. It was real. Lived in love. And that patience made her want him even more.

“I thought about that,” Annie said, shifting slightly, the dress slipping more along her thigh, “but I been sittin’ with it. Workin’ up to it. Trainin’ good like you told me to. I want you tonight. I’m ready for more.” 

Smoke’s gaze deepened. Heavier, weighted with affection and desire woven together. He kept massaging her foot like he didn’t want his hands to leave her skin while she spoke this truth into the space.

“You prepped before you put it in?” Smoke asked, a question with care. 

“Yeah,” Annie’s voice held no hesitation, “I did everything I was supposed to,” she paused, letting the truth settle between them, “I prepped right. Took my time. And once I felt good, I put the plug in. Been wearin’ it for you since.” 

Smoke’s jaw flexed with smoldering appreciation. 

“You did all that for me, baby?” 

“For us, Papa.” She corrected softly. 

Smoke leaned in a little, his eyes locked onto hers, “Come here, baby.” 

Annie didn’t need to be told twice. She slid closer, her claves still cradled in his lap, her body drawn into his gravity. Smoke let one hand rest over her knee, stroking the skin with his thumb.

“You tellin’ me you fully ready to take your man like that,” he said, his voice low but hitting her like thunder before rain, “and you ain’t scared, not even a little?” 

“I’m not scared no more. I trust you,” she placed her hand on his thigh, her palm warm over denim, “I want you deep in me. However you wanna take me.” 

Smoke looked at her the way a man looks at something precious he plans to handle with care and hunger alike. 

“Aight,” he whispered, “if wifey ready…I’m right here.” Smoke placed a kiss against her knee, “Now, you sure you want Papa, to take you all the way, tonight? ‘Cause you know what that mean, right?” 

Annie’s answer was barely above a whisper but full, her eyes doe-like with desire, “yes…take me all the way, Smoke.” 

His shoulders lowered on a deep exhale, like her words settled something in him too. That tension between them thickened, sweet and heavy. 

“Then we gon’ do it right. Together.” 

Smoke reached for her. His palm slid behind her thigh, guiding her from the cushion to his lap in one smooth pull. Annie went willingly, her knee brushing his hip as she swung a leg over him. She settled onto him with a soft whimper, her thighs bracketing his, her warm, wet pussy pressed close enough that he could feel it throb like a heartbeat through the thin fabric of her abaya. 

Smoke took her wine glass gently from her hand, never breaking eye contact, and sat it on the table beside them. His hands returned immediately—both of them—sliding over the curve of her backside. He dragged his palms down her hips, over the full softness of her waist, up her back where the dress clung to her plush curves. Smoke explored her like she was familiar and new at the same time. 

Annie’s breathing changed. Smoke’s touch always did that to her. He held her gaze with that steady, unblinking intensity he only used on her. 

“If we doin’ this tonight,” he said, voice low and stern, “you gon’ listen to me. All the way through.” 

Annie’s hands slid up his shoulders, her fingers sinking into the warm muscle. His grip moved over her backside again, kneading, dragging, pressing. Annie could feel the strength in every stroke, the ownership wrapped in tenderness. 

Smoke’s thumb brushed the small of her back, “you gon’ follow my instructions,” he continued, “ain’t no rushin’. Aim no tensing up. You hear me?” 

Annie nodded.

Smoke’s hand wrapped around the base of her waist, pulling her more into him, “Nah. I need you to say it, Annie.” 

Annie’s lips parted, breath warming his cheek, “I hear you, Papa.” 

Smoke’s gaze dipped to her mouth, then returned to her eyes, “I need you relaxed. I need you trustin’ me. I need you lettin’ go when I tell you to let go, understand?” 

“Yes, Sir.” She whispered. 

Smoke’s hands cupped her ass fully now, fingers spreading and kneading, claiming the weight of her, “and you gon’ tell me if somethin’ don’t feel right. You don’t hold that in. You speak up. That’s how we do this. That’s how we stay good.” 

“I will,” she said, voice steady and a little breathless, “I promise.” 

Smoke’s approval was quiet but unmistakable, “good.”

His hands trailed lower. Smoke hooked his thumbs under the hem of her dress and slowly lifted the fabric. Annie raised her hips for him, letting the mint-green cloth glide up her further, revealing warm skin inch by inch. 

When the dress rose high enough, Smoke paused. 

No panties. 

His breath eased out of him, slow and thick. His fingers dragged over her bare ass, tracing the round curves of her cheeks. He squeezed as much as he could, juggling her ass like they were two heavy ass cushions of flesh. 

“Mm,” he hummed, eyes flicking up to meet hers, “you came to sit in my lap like this?” 

Annie licked her lips, “Yeah.”

Smoke dragged his hands over her again, appreciating her, memorizing her, “you knew what Papa needed. Been a long day for me. Knew I needed to come home to this.” 

Her hips tilted, giving him more of her to explore. Smoke’s grip tightened again, steady and grounding. 

“I ain’t mad at it,” he said, his hand smoothing over her ass once more, “but you gon’ let me take my time with you.”

Annie nodded again, whisper-soft, “I will.”

Smoke lifted her chin with two fingers, forcing her eyes to stay on his, “say it strong, baby.” 

“I’ll let you take your time, papa. Because it’s yours,” she said, voice firmer now. 

Smoke bit his bottom lip, eyes holding something hot and devoted, “that’s my woman.” 

His thumb drifted dangerously close to the place she wanted him to touch. The place she wore the plug snug between the plentiful flesh of her ass.

Annie shivered. 

Smoke’s thumb grazed it. He smiled, slow and knowing. 

“Damn,” he whispered against her neck, “You open for me, ain’t you?” 

Smoke kissed her again, his tongue sliding against hers with a thirst that had waited all day to be quenched. Between those kisses, his lips brushed hers as he whispered to her. His voice came low, the tone of it curling into her stomach and spreading heat through her entire body. 

“I need you tonight,” Smoke breathed, kissing her again, lips catching hers, “need to feel that ass take me deep.” 

Annie’s fingers tightened at the back of his neck. Smoke kissed her until she sighed into him, her thighs opening just a little more over his. Smoke spread her ass cheeks, the cool air hitting her plugged ass, making her clench. He popped her cheek one at at time before dragging his hands from the top curve of her ass down to the back of her thighs, finger tips barely brushing the outline of her pussy lips spread over his big bulge. 

“You hear me?” Smoke’s mouth brushed her lower lip as he spoke, “Been thinkin’ ‘bout you all fuckin’ day. Thinkin’ ‘bout how you gon’ feel when I put this dick in your mouth,” he flicked his tongue against her lips, “In Papa’s pussy,” his fingers teased her outer lips just a little, “Now I get to open that ass up how I want to? Mm…”

Another kiss claimed her mouth before she could answer. Smoke palmed the back of her head, pressing their mouths together until she felt her pulse responding to the rhythm he set. 

“I’m proud of you,” Smoke whispered against her mouth, brushing her lip with the softest sweep of his thumb, “real proud. You tellin’ me you ready for more…baby, you don’t know what that do to me. But I’m a show you.” 

Annie kissed him back with the same hunger building inside her, her hips grinding, body answering him in small, involuntary movements. 

He kissed her harder. 

“You gon’ let Papa dig in that ass?” He whispered into her mouth, words warm and thick between their lips, “ain’t no runnin’. Ain’t no teasing. You gon’ open these cheeks up for me like you know how.” 

Annie whimpered softly into the kiss, her fingers tightening in his thick, coils. Smoke swallowed the sound, kissing her until she melted full into his lap. One hand kept squeezing one cheek while the other grazed the plug with his thumb. He guided her hips closer with lazy strength until she was pressed fully against the swell of him. 

“That’s it,” Smoke whispered, lips brushing hers, “yeah, you ready for this. I can tell. Bet you drippin’ pussy juice in my lap.” Smoke popped her ass, “you trust me,” he whispered, resting his forehead to hers for a brief second, “I got you. All night.” 

Smoke yanked Annie closer by the hips, then his hands went to her waist and without a struggle he lifted and slammed her thick body flush against his throbbing crotch until she could feel the rigid outline of that thick dick pressing insistently against her wet pussy. His rough hands clamped down on her plump ass cheeks, kneading the soft flesh with heavy squeezes that made her asshole twitch in anticipation. Smoke dragged his calloused palms over her bare skin in desperate strokes, fingers dipping into the crack of her ass and teasing the puckered rim of her tight little hole, sending shivers straight to her dripping pussy. 

He molded his full lips to hers in a sloppy, devouring kiss, his thick, pink tongue thrusting and spearing deep into her saliva-heavy mouth, tangling with her sweet-tasting tongue in a raw hunger that had been building all fucking day. Between those messy kisses, Smoke’s lips grazed hers as he growled low, the gravelly rumble vibrating down to her pussy and igniting a filthy ache in her guts like he was digging in her already. 

“Need that tight butt tonight,” Smoke rasped, sealing his lips over hers again, starting soft and teasing before plunging his tongue back in to fuck her mouth with it, “Needa bury this fat dick in down to my nuts.” 

Annie’s nails dug into the back of his neck, scraping his skin as Smoke devoured her mouth with so much sloppiness she moaned with a broken sound into him, her thick thighs spreading wider over his lap, soaked pussy lips parting to grind against the bulge straining his jeans.

“You hear me, woman?” Smoke’s teeth nipped at her lower lip, tugging it before soothing it with a swipe of his tongue, “Been jerkin’ off in the office today thinkin’ ‘bout you. ‘Bout how this greedy little ass gon’ swallow my dick when I stretch it wide open and pound every fuckin’ inch inside.” 

The kiss grew sloppier, saliva mixing as their tongues slid and sucked with filthy intent. Smoke’s hand crept lower on her ass, thick fingers tracing the deep cleft where her cheeks met, brushing right over the sensitive ring of her asshole. Their lips mashed together until her heartbeat thundered in her ears. Syncing with the oils of his dick against her. 

“I’m so fuckin’ proud of you,” Smoke spoke hotly against her lips, his thumb smearing the spit across her mouth in a dirty caress, “real proud of my dirty girl. You tellin’ me you ready to take my whole dick up ya ass…fuck…that make me wanna wrack you right now.” 

Annie’s breath hitched sharp when his fingers dipped lower, stroking the full globes of her ass cheeks, then sliding between them to circle her tight, pucker with deliberate pressure. Applying force against the plug. Smoke dragged his fingertips over the jeweled end, feeling it clench and quiver under his touch while his other palm cupped her ass, squeezing hard enough to leave marks. Annie kissed him back, her hips bucking, her asshole fluttering as slick arousal leaked from her pussy. 

“Tonight, you givin’ me that ass completely,” he growled into her mouth, the words thick and dripping with lust between their slick lips, “you gon’ spread those cheeks and let me ram my dick in, take it like the filthy anal slut you are.” 

Annie whimpered into the kiss, a needy, broken sound that made her fingers yank his hair, pulling him closer. Smoke swallowed her whine, kissing her until her body went limp and pliant in his lap, fully surrendered. His hand kept groping her ass, fingers probing and massaging the tight entrance, the touch firm, coaxing, owning every inch. He rocked her hips down with lazy but unyielding force until her ass was clapping right on him, the fabric barrier doing nothing to hide how badly he wanted to split her open. 

“That’s my girl,” Smoke breathed, lips dragging over hers in teasing nips, “you fuckin’ ready for this. I can feel that ass beggin’ for Papa’s dick.” 

Smoke scooped Annie up in his strong arms, carrying her effortlessly to their kind-sized bed, the mattress dipping under their combined weight as he laid her out on her back like a feast ready to be devoured. Her legs dangled off the edge at first, but Smoke wasted no time, grabbing her ankles and hoisting them up, spreading her thighs wide apart until her knees bent towards her chest, exposing every inch of her glistening pussy to his hungry gaze. The jeweled base of the anal plug peeked out from between her plump ass cheeks, the toy stretching her tight ring just enough to prepare her for what was coming. 

“Damn, baby girl,” Smoke uttered, his voice thick with approval as he knelt between her splayed legs, his rough hands sliding up the backs of her thighs in long, caressing strokes. His palms glided over her soft skin, thumbs pressing into the sensitive hollows behind her knees, then lower, tracing the curves where her hamstrings met her ass, “such a good lil’ slut for Papa, wearin’ that plug all day like I told you. Keep that asshole nice and open so I can slam this big dick inside you. Makin’ me so fuckin’ proud, Annie.”

Annie shivered under his touch, her phat pussy lips swollen and parted, revealing the slick pink folds beneath her big clit throbbing visibly like a fat pearl begging for attention. The plug’s presence made her ass clench around it involuntarily, sending jolts of pleasure up her spine that made her pussy drip even more, a trail of arousal leaking down towards the toy. Smoke’s fingers dug in a bit firmer on her thighs, massaging the muscles as he leaned in closer, his breath ticklish against her inner thighs.

“Hold them titties together for me, baby. Squeeze ‘em tight…push ‘em up so I can watch ‘em bounce while I eat this juicy pussy.” 

Annie obeyed instantly, her hands cupping her full breasts, pressing them together until the soft flesh bulged between her fingers, nipples hardening into stiff peaks that poked towards the ceiling. She arched her back slightly, offering herself up as Smoke’s eyes darkened with lust. 

He dove in without hesitation, his mouth latching onto her phat pussy with a wet slurp, sucking her thick outer lips into his mouth one side at a time. His tongue lolled out sloppy and broad, lapping at the puffy folds, dragging from her dripping entrance up to her big clit, which he engulfed fully, sucking hard enough to make it swell even larger against his lips. 

“Mmm, fuck, this fat clit perfect,” Smoke groaned against her, vibrations buzzing through her core as he released it with a pop, only to suck it back in, his cheeks hollowing as he nursed on the sensitive nub like it was candy. 

Smoke’s hands kept caressing the backs of her thighs, holding her spread wide while his face buried deeper, nose grinding against her the outer, meaty flesh of her pussy as he sucked her entire folds into his mouth. Tongue thrusting in messy circles, Smoke slurped at her inner folds, pulling them between his lips with gentle tugs before flattening his tongue to lap up her juices, damn near swallowing them down with obscene gulps. The anal plug shifted slightly with each of her squirms, the fullness in her ass amplifying every suck and lick, making her hips buck up towards his mouth. 

His sucks grew sloppier, saliva mixing with her mess to create a filthy sheen over her crotch, dripping down to coat the plug’s base. Smoke focused on her big clit again wrapping his lips around it and humming low, the suction pulling it taut as his tongue flicked rapidly over the tip. 

“That’s it, good girl, take Papa’s mouth. Make you cum so fuckin’ hard before I fuck that ass raw.” 

Annie’s fingers tightened on her titties, mashing them together harder as moans spilled from her lips, her body trembling under the relentless assault of his tongue and lips, every caress on her thighs grounding her in the building ecstasy. 

Smoke’s mouth stayed locked on Annie’s, gushy, phat pussy, his plush lips slurping greedily at the swollen folds, tongue plunging deep into her dripping hole before dragging up to batter her big clit with wet, insistent laps. Saliva and her juices smeared across his chin, dripping down to soak the sheets beneath her ass, the anal plug’s base glistening from the overflow like a precious jewel. Smoke sucked her puffy lips into his mouth again and again, tugging them before releasing with a filthy smack. His fingers dug into the flesh of her thighs to keep her spread wide and immobile under his assault. 

Annie’s hands released their tight squeeze on her big titties, instead starting to jiggling them for him, bouncing the heavy melons up and down in rhythmic shakes that made them slap softly against each other. The motion lifted her chest higher, her stiff nipples tracing circles in the air but it also blocked Smoke’s view of her face completely. Those massive tits heaving like pillows obscuring everything above her stomach, leaving him fixated on the feast between her legs.

“Mmmph—ahhh!” Annie moaned, her voice breathy and high-pitched, the sound breaking into a series of whimpers as his tongue swirled around her clit. She arched her back and rolled her hips, pushing her pussy harder against his face, her ass clenching around the plug with each jiggle of her breasts and quiver of her thighs.

“Yesss, Papa…eat that pussy…ohhhh, fuucckkk, yesss…”

Smoke pulled back just enough to speak, his breath ragged against her slick skin, lips brushing her throbbing clit as he groaned, “Papa eatin’ this pussy good, baby? I know, you makin’ such a mess in my mouth, baby,”  He dove right back in, sucking her big court between his lips with a loud, vacuum-like slurp, his tongue flicking the underside rapidly while humming vibrations through it.” 

“Oh GOD—mmm, yesss, Papa! I love it when you suck on my pussy like that…ahh-ahhh-ahhhhh!” Annie’s moans escalated, turning into staccato gasps that matched the bobbing of her titties, fingers pinching her nipples now to heighten the jiggle, sending sparks straight to her core. Her hips rolled without her control, grinding her phat pussy against his mouth, the wet sounds of his slurping filling th bedroom like obscene music. 

“Pussy so phat,” smoke muttered between sucks, his voice muffled as he latched onto her outer lips, pulling one side fully into his mouth and nursing on it with sloppy pulls, his teeth grazing the tender flesh. He released it with a pop, then switched to the other, his thumbs stroking firmer along the backs of her thighs, feeling the flesh quiver under his touch. 

“So fuckin, thick and juicy, baby girl.” 

Annie’s response came in a drawn-out whine, her body trembling as she kept jiggling her big titties faster, the slaps growing louder, “mmmm, yessss…ohhhh, Papa, don’t stop…haaah—yes, eat it, eat my pussy deep…nngh!” A sharp cry escaped her when his tongue thrusted inside her gushy hole, fucking in and out with quick, messy stabs, lapping up the fresh gush of wetness that coated his face.

“Pussy so wet,” Smoke praised, his words vibrating against her as he flattened his tongue to lap broad stroking from her entrance up to her clit, back and forth, swallowing down the mix of spit and fresh cream with a deep, guttural groan. Smoke couldn’t see yer spaced-out face or rolled-back eyes, but the way her thighs tensed in his grip told him everything—her body’s betrayal of how close she was teetering, “Drippin’ all over Papa’s face like a good fuckin’ slut.” 

Annie bucked harder, the moans fracturing into desperate pants, “Ah! Ah! Ah-ah-ah—mmph! Yessss, Papa, I love your tongue…suck it…suck my clit…ohhhhh fuuuuck!” Her titties bounced wildly now, nearly smacking her chin with each heave, the anal plug shifting inside her and increasing the building pressure in her gut. 

Smoke chuckled low against her folds, the sound rumbling through her core before he sucked her entire pussy up into his mouth again, cheeks hollowing as he nursed hungrily, “I’m suckin’ this pussy good, huh? Papa gotta get you right before I wreck that plugged-up ass,” his tongue delved deep once more, circling her walls before going back to sealing those big lips around her protruding clit, pulling and flicking in tandem—lips, tongue—determined to push her over the edge with his relentless sloppy feast. 

His mouth never left Annie’s phat, wet pussy. His lips sealed tight with every suck, drawing out her juices with relentless pulls that made her thighs quake in his grip. No words escaped him now. Just the wet, filthy sounds of his whole mouthpiece working her over and over, broad and flat licks dragging from her drippy hole up to that big clit in slow, sloppy laps that coated everything in a sheen of saliva and cream. Lapped again and again, strokes wide and unhurried, pressing firmly against her swollen lips and aching clit, flattening the flesh to drag his heavy tongue slickly, releasing to expose how throbbing and soaked she is. 

Annie’a ass clenched tight around the plug, the base pressing deeper with each involuntary squeeze, sending jolts of pleasure through her core that mingled with the heat building from his mouth. She felt pinned in place, her body locked under his hold, but she couldn’t help cocking her hips to the side in a desperate twist, trying to angle for more friction—yet Smoke adjusted instantly, his hands sliding up to grip her inner thighs and yank them wider, keeping her splayed as his tongue chased her movement, lapping at the shifted folds without mercy. 

Annie froze there after that, body going still except for the tremors ripping through her, neon yellow painted toes curling hard in the air, her toes cramping up as waves of pleasure locked her muscles, “ohhhh…mmmph—ahhhhh—ahhhh!” Her moans spilled out in breathy bursts, high an needy, fracturing into whimpers each time his tongue and lips swept broad across her pussy, the sloppy wetness echoing in the bedroom. Her big titties still heaved from earlier jiggles, now settling into a subtle bounce with every hitch in her breath, nipples peaked and aching from neglect. 

Smoke’s chin glistened with her mess, dripping steadily as he shifted to her inner walls, tongue probing shallow to taste the fresh slickness. Then, the slurping started—loud, greedy, noises as he dragged his thick lips before hollowing his cheeks again, pulling those lips towards him, sucking while his tongue flicked rapid against her entrance, drawing out strings of wetness. He paused only to spread her fully, his thumbs hooking into her folds and peeling them apart wide, exposing the pretty pink glistening to the cool air. 

Smoke stared for a beat, eyes locked on her big clit standing swollen and proud, the thick inner lips framing it like petals heavy with dew, quivering under his gaze. The sight made his dick twitch against the bed and his nut sack tighten. Smoke kept her pried open with those strong fingers and dove back in to slurp, the sound filthy and amplified as his mouth engulfed her clit and lips together, sucking with wet pull that made her hips jerk despite her stillness. 

“Nngh—yes, oh fuuuck…mmm, haaah!” Annie cried out, her voice cracking into a series of sharp gasps, toes curling tighter until the neon yellow polish gleamed under the strain, her ass clenching the plug in rhythmic pulses that pushed her closer to the edge. Annie bit her lip, stifling a longer moan that bubbled up, “Mmmph—ahh-ahh—sssss, fuck, Smoke!” Her body arched just enough to feed more of her pussy into his slurping mouth, “mmm, yeah…take it, papa,” she gasped out, voice thick with that NOLA drawl, all husky and drawn long on the vowels. 

“Mhm, goo girl, feed Papa his pussy,” Smoke growled against her, the words vibrating right into her core, his Mississippi tongue rolling deep and rough like gravel under tires. He didn’t stop, tongue lashing out to lick broad over her pussy, tasting the fresh gush she gave him, “There you go, give it to me—gimme that phat pussy, baby. Yeah, push it out on my fuckin’ tongue, lemme suck this sweet pussy dry,” his voice stayed low and constant, filthy praises spilling between slurps as he sealed his thick lips around her clit while his tongue probed the edges of her inner lips, lapping up every drop that leaked out. 

Annie’s ass squeezed the plug tighter with each suck, the fullness increasing the ache low in her belly, big titties bouncing lightly as her chest heaved. Annie bucked and rode his face, hips higher, grinding that phat pussy all in his mouth, smearing her wetness across his nose and chin, “Papa…ohhhh, Papa…I’m cummin’…I’m cummin’, Papa!” Annie cried, the words breaking into a drawn out ‘yessss’ that twisted with her southern lilt, high and desperate. Her thighs clamped around Smoke’s head for a second before he forced them back open, but she didn’t stop, “I’m cummin’, yessss, Papa, don’t stop—I’m cummin’ in yo’ mouth!” 

Smoke hummed approval right into her, the vibration shooting straight through her clit as he kept slurping and twirling the thick tongue in tight circles around the swollen nub while his big lips tugged at her inner lips, stretching them gently before releasing with a wet pop, “keep feedin’ me, baby, that’s my goo pussy—gimmie all that nut, flood papa’s mouth wit’ it,” Smoke urged, words muffled but insistent, his breath heavy against her as he licked faster, sucked her clit, slurped her up. He spread her even wider, fingers slipping closer to her entrance to hold everything open, diving in to slurp directly at the source, tongue thrusting shallow to scoop out her release. 

Annie’s moans turned into a chant, body arching and twitching off the bed as her orgasm ripped through her, pussing clenching and pulsing against his tongue, “Cummin’…Papa…cummin’ so hard—yessss, oh lawd, yes!” She wailed, that NOLA twang making the plea sound even sweeter, her hips jerking erratically to shove more into his relentless mouth. Waves crashed over her, juices squirting in hot spurts that he caught and swallowed with eager gulps, his free hand sliding up to pinch one of her hard nipples, rolling it between his fingers, “Papa—Smoke—Daddy—” her toes curled so tight the neon yellow nails damn near dug into her soles, ass gripping the plug like it was anchoring her through the storm. 

Smoke’s lips vibrated with another filthy mutter, “Mmm, yeah, got more fa’ me? Gimmie every drop from this fat lil’ pussy, baby. You tastin’ so damn good, keep givin’ it up,” his dick throbbed heavy against the bed, but he stayed buried in her, slurping and licking until her cries softened into whimpers, her body slumping back, spent but still twitching under his hold. 

Smoke eased off Annie’s clit with one last lingering suck, his full lips shiny from the feast, breath coming in no pants as he pulled back just enough to survey the mess he’d made of her. Annie’s pretty pussy glistened under the dim light, inner lips puffy and twitchy from his attention, juices streaked across her thighs and dripping down towards the plug nestled in her ass. Smoke pressed soft pecks all over her, trailing kisses along the outer lips, then up to the sensitive crease where her thigh met pussy, each one light and tender like he was worshiping the aftermath. 

“Damn, baby. You did so good cummin’ in Papa’s mouth,” he spoke against her skin, voice low and gravelly with that Mississippi rumble, soft lops brushing her clit in a final gentle kiss that made her twitch, “Flooded me just right…taste like heaven, all sweet and thick. My good girl givin’ it all up like that.”  

Annie let out a breathy chuckle, her chest rising and falling as she caught her breath, big titties shifting with the sound. She reached down to stroke his cheek, fingers tracing the wetness she’d smeared there, “mmm, yo’ mouth amazin’,” she drawled, soft and sated, vowels stretching lazy like warm honey, “you got me shakin’ still—lawd, wha you do to me. Ate me up.”

Smoke grinned up at her, eyes dark with hunger, then started crawling up her body slow, muscles flexing under his skin as he dragged his chest along her belly. His big dick hung heavy between his legs, brushing her thigh and leaving a trail of pre-cum, but he ignored it for now, focused on her face. When he reached her, he captured her mouth in a deep kiss, tongue sliding in to share her taste—salty and musky. Annie moaned into it, arms wrapping around his neck to pull him closer, their tongues tangling wet and unhurried, her legs hooking loose around his hips. 

While they kissed, Smoke’s hand snaked down between her thighs again, fingers finding the base of the butt plug where it stretched her tight ring. He stroked around it gentle, circling the flared end with his thumb, feeling the way her ass clenched and relaxed under the pressure. The toy was slick from her release, and he pressed lightly, twisting it just a fraction to make it shift inside her, teasing the nerves without pulling it out. 

“That feel good, don’t it?” Smoke whispered against her lips, breaking the kiss to nip at her bottom one, voice thick with lust and that sexy, country boy flare. His fingers kept stroking, rubbing firm circles over the plug’s base, dripping to trace the puckered skin around it. 

Annie shivered, nodding as she nipped back, her breath hitching, “y-yeah, Papa…feels so good,” she whispered, hips lifting a little to chase the touch. 

“Mhm, this how I’m a get up in that ass…nice and slow,” Smoke continued, voice dropping to a filthy rumble as he twisted the plug again, easing it in a shallow push-pull that made her hole flutter, “slow stroke it, baby…open you up real gentle ‘til you beggin’ for more dick,” his thumb pressed firmer, stroking the length of the toy where it met her skin, mimicking the motion he promised, while his other fingers splayed over her pussy to keep her spread, still sensitive from his mouth. 

Annie gasped into his mouth, kissing him harder, tongue flicking against his as the sensation built low in her gut again, “ohhhh, Papa…”

“Ease this ass open for Papa to fit in it, right?” Smoke growled, eyes locking on hers as he worked the plug deeper with a slow twist, feeling her muscles yield bit by bit. His dick throbbed against her thigh, leaking more as he imagined sliding in there, but he kept the pace deliberate, stroking and pressing until her breaths came quicker, body arching to take more, “Yeah, that’s it—loosen up for me, let me stretch this tight lil’ hole wide.” 

Smoke broke their kiss with a wet pop, his lips trailing fire down her jaw, nipping at the curve of her neck before dipping lower. He dragged his mouth along her collarbone, tongue flicking out to taste the salt of her skin, then zeroed in on her big titties heaving with each breath. Those heavy things rose and fell, dark nipples peaked and begging surrounded by wide areolas that begged for his attention.

Smoke latched onto one nipple first, sucking hard with a low grunt rumbling from his chest, teeth grazing the stiff bud as his tongue swirled around it in tight circles. Annie arched up, a sharp gasp escaping her as he pulled more of her breast into his mouth, devouring it like he was starved. His free hand kept working the butt plug, stroking and twisting it slow while the other reached up to grab a thick handful of her titty flesh, squeezing firm because it was his to own. 

“Mmmph,” he hummed against her skin, vibration shooting straight to her nipple as he switched sides, licking a broad stripe across the underside of her other breast before sucking that nipple deep too. Smoke grabbed both now, big hands sinking into the soft, overflowing handfuls, using them like handlebars to pull her closer, kneading and rolling the weight in his palms. His fingers dug in just enough to leave faint marks, thumbs flicking over the wet peaks he left behind. 

Grunting low, Smoke slapped her titties together with a meaty smack, watching them jiggle and bounce before burning his face right in the deep valley between them. He rubbed his cheeks against the warm, pillowy skin, inhaling her scent—warm skin, vanilla, and a trace of amber—nuzzling deep like a man possessed. Because that’s what Annie does to him. His stubble scraped lightly, adding a rough edge while he kept groaning, the sound vibrating through her chest.

Annie bit down on her lower lip, eyes half-lidded as she watched him feast, her body twisting under the onslaught. One hand threaded into his hair, holding him there, while her hips bucked faintly against the press of his fingers on her plugged ass, “you love these big ass titties, Papa?” She purred, voice thick, breathy, teasing, “they not too big for you to handle?” 

Smoke met her gaze, a wicked grin splitting his face as he gave her breasts another squeeze, thumbs circling her nipples, “Hell nah, baby. These titties perfect for me.” Smoke growled back, accent heavy like gravel under boots before diving in again to suck one into his mouth with a hungry slurp.

Smoke shifted his weight, swinging one strapping thigh over her hips to straddle her chest, his massive frame looming like a shadow above her sprawled form on the bed. Those broad shoulders and corded arms flexed as he positioned himself, knees digging into the mattress on either side of her ribs, his heavy balls settling warm and full against her breast bone. Annie’s eyes locked on his fat dick, that long, girthy shaft pulsing with veins snaking along its length, the head flushed dark and leaking a steady bead of pre-cum. 

He gripped the base of his dick, guiding it down into the deep cleft between her big titties, the soft sweat-glistened flesh yielding around him like a custom-made sheath. Her skin was slick from their sweat, a sheen of perspiration making everything glide smooth as he pressed her breasts together with his rough hands, trapping his dick in that plush valley. The fist thrust forward was slow, hips rocking to slide that veiny thickness up through the tunnel of her cleavage, the tip emerging just shy of her chin while his balls dragged heavy across her sternum.

“Oh, fuck, yeah,” Smoke groaned, voice low, that drawl thickening every word, heavy-lidded eyes boring down into hers as he started pumping steadily. Each glide smeared his pre-cum along her, mixing with her sweat to create a slippery friction that had him grunting deep in his throat. Smoke squeezed her titties harder, fingers sinking into the overflowing flesh, using them to tighten the grip around his dick as he fucked forward, the head of his dick popping out at the top of each stroke. 

Annie tilted her head up, lips parting as she poked her tongue out, catching the tip on the next upward thrust. She flicked it quick an teasing, lapping at the skit where more pre-cum welled up, her tongue swirling around the broad crown in lazy circles that made his hips stutter.

“Mmm, damn, Papa,” Annie moaned against him, voice husky and breathless, “pre-cum taste so good, just how I like it slidin’ on my tongue, mmm,” Annie sucked the tip briefly when it crested again, hollowing her cheeks before releasing the swollen head with a wet pop, then flicked her tongue side to side across the sensitive underside, tracing a vein that throbbed. 

“Mmm, titties swallowing my dick whole,” Smoke rumbled, staring down at her with raw hunger, his thumbs pressing into the sides of her breasts to mold them firmer around him. His thrusts deepened, slick sounds of skin on skin filling the bedroom—Schlick, Schlick— as his balls slapped lightly against her chest with every push, “you do soft, baby…mmm…big fuckin’ titties feel good on this fuckin’ dick, girl…got ‘em huggin’ me tight, makin’ this dick look small around all this titty-meat,” his voice dropped nastier, words tumbling out between heavy breathes, “takin’ Papa’s fat dick between these big ol’ titties—you must want me to paint ‘em up, mark you with my nut.” 

Smoke kept the pace building, hips rolling in a steady grind, one hand releasing her breast to brace on the headboard above her for leverage, letting him drive forward harder. Annie held one titty while Smoke’s other hand stayed clamped on the other, kneading it rough as he watched his shaft disappear an reappear, glistening more with each pass. Annie worked that tongue overtime—swirling broad locks around the frenulum to make him hiss, then darting out to trace the ridge before sucking greedily at his slit. 

“Keep fuckin’ these titties, Smoke…love feelin’ that big dick between ‘em gettin’ ready to bust.” 

Smoke let go of the headboard and tangled his hand in her coarse hair, holding her steady as he angled his thrusts to feed her more of the tip, his balls tightening against her skin with the building pressure. 

“That’s right, use that tongue, suck on that tip, nasty girl. Big titties got Daddy’s dick achin’ to nut but I ain’t done wit’ ya’ ass yet. Gon’ make you beg for it in that phat pussy next,” Smoke growled the words, pace quickening, the bed creaking under their weight as he lost himself in the sight of his wife beneath him, tongue lashing and breasts bouncing with every forceful glide. 

“You want this dick down your throat, baby?” Smoke rasped, voice rough and thick, hips stilling as he held her gaze, one hand loosening its grip on her breast to cup her jaw tight. 

Annie’s eyes lit up, her tongue darting out for one last teasing lick along the underside before she nodded eagerly, breath coming in hot pants, “want it stretchin’ my throat,” Annie purred back in that sultry twang, her voice husky. 

Smoke dragged his teeth across his bottom lip while smirking slightly, sliding his big dick free from between her titties. He eased off her chest, thick, toned thighs flexing as he swung a leg over and stood beside the bed, towering over her like a wall of muscle. He reached down, strong hands hooking under her arms to help her up, pulling her body upright with effortless strength. Annie scrambled into position quick, turning to drop onto all fours on the bed’s edge, knees sinking into the sheets, ass up high with that plug still nestled deep in her puckered hole. Her big titties hung heavy beneath her, swaying as she arched her back, facing him with her mouth open and waiting.

She reached out first, one hand wrapping around his heavy balls, fingers kneading the warm, wrinkled sac gently at first, then squeezing just enough to make him hiss. Her other hand braced on his muscular thigh for balance as she leaned in, lips wide to engulf the fat head of his dick. Annie sucked him in deep right away, cheeks sunken as she took half his length in one go, tongue pressing flat against the underside to stroke along the pulling vein. Slurps filled the air—wet, obscene sounds as she bobbed forward, throat relaxing to swallow more, gagging softly when the girth hit the back of her mouth but pushing on anyway. 

Smoke groaned low, his hand coming down to tangle in her hair, guiding her without forcing it, “Fuck, damn, baby. Suck that dick like that, baby. Throat takin’ me so fuckin’ good, all sloppy and wet for Papa.” 

He leaned over her slightly, his free hand cracking down on her big ass cheek with a sharp pop, the flesh jiggling under the impact, leaving a faint, purplish bruise on her dark skin. The plug shifted a little inside her from the smack, making her whimper around his dick. 

Annie pulled back with a gasp, strings of spit connecting her lips to his tip, then drove back in deeper, her head twisting side to side to tongue every inch she could reach. She swirled her tongue around the head on the upstroke, flicking the slit to coax out more pre-cum, then slurping him down again, making bubbles of spit froth at the corners of her mouth. They dripped down her chin in thick rivulets, rolling over her neck and splattering onto her swinging titties, making them shine slick as they smacked together with each forceful suck—thwack, thwack—nipples stiff and slick with saliva.

“Gahdamn, woman, you suckin’ the soul outta me,” Smoke grunted, biting his lower lip hard enough to leave teeth marks, hips bucking shallow into her mouth as she worked him. 

His big dick was iron-hard now, veins bulging against her tongue, twitching every time she sunk those cheeks to suck tight or grazed her teeth lightly along the shaft. Smoke popped that big ass butt again, harder this time, the slap echoing as her cheeks rippled. Annie moaned around him, the sound muffled by needy, her hand tugging his balls former to pull him closer. 

“That’s it, grab them nuts—work for that fuckin’ nut. Damn, this dick deep in your throat. You my nasty lil’ throat slut, ain’t you? Fuck, feelin’ too good, baby—gon’ have you chokin’ on every inch ‘fore i flip you on your back and wreck that plugged-up ass.” 

Smoke kept the dirty words flowing, voice gravelly between grunts, body tensing as pleasure coiled tight in his gut. Annie ramped it up, sucking with wet pulls—slurp, gag, slurp—her tongue lashing relentlessly, spit bubbling and dripping everywhere. Smoke’s groans turned ragged, his grip tightening in her hair, biting back a curse as her mouth pushed him right to the edge, that tight, hot suction making his knees damn near buckle. 

Smoke’s eyes locked on Annie’s face, mesmerized by the way her full lips stretched wide around his thick dick, slicing down inch by inch until her nose brushed against his trimmed pubes. He couldn’t wrap his head around how fucking incredible it felt every damn time, even after all these years with his wife. Her mouth was a goddamn vice, hot and wet, pulling him in like she was starving for it. Smoke bit down on his lower lip again, harder this time, a sharp sting cutting through the haze of pleasure as his hips twitched forward. 

His hand moved from her hair to stroke along her cheek, almost tenderly, while his other palm came down with a firm smack on her ass. The flesh wobbled under the impact. It drew a muffled hum from her throat that shot straight up his dick. 

“Fuck, suckin’ me so deep—ain’t no way this my wife doin’ this shit to me every night,” Smoke groaned, voice thick and ragged and laced with awe and raw lust.

Annie pushed forward, relaxing her throat completely now, taking him all the way to the base in one determined swallow. Her gag reflex fluttered but held, her esophagus clenching around the fat head of his dick as she held him there, nose buried against his pubes, inhaling his scent. Spit bubbled at the corners of her mouth, overflowing in thick streams that trailed down her chin. Her titties swayed with subtle rocks. 

“Just like that…just like that, hold that dick in your throat,” Smoke rasped, his fingers tightening in her hair, guiding her to stay put for a beat longer before she pulled back gasping for air. He popped her ass again, the slap ringing out sharp, leaving a warm handprint blooming on her dark skin, “That’s my woman…suck your dick like it’s the only thing you need. This your dick, baby, all yours to choke on.” 

Annie eased off with a wet pop, coughing lightly but grinning up at him through watery eyes, her tongue flicking out to lap at the underside of his dick while she caught her breath. Strings of saliva connected her lips to his glistening dick and she dove right back in, sucking him down to the base once more, holding it there with a deep, throaty gag that made his nalls draw up tight. Her other hand squeezed his sac, the heavy orbs rolling in her palm, urging him closer to the brink. 

“Good girl, throat deep like that—swallow every fuckin’ inch for your man. You my nasty lil’ throat queen, ain’t ya? Tryna drain this dick with that good neck, makin’ Papa lose his damn mind,” Smoke praised her filthy, woods tumbling out between gritted teeth as he watching her work, coils swaying as her head bobbed and her neck worked, “yeah, baby, gag on it, show me how much you love chokin’ on this meat. That’s it, hold it…hold it right there, I know you feel this dick throbbin’ in your throat.” 

Annie’s moans vibrated around him, her pussy clenching around nothing but the plug as she deepthroated him again, holding steady until her lungs burned, tears pricking her eyes from the effort. She pulled back slow this time, slurping loudly along the length, tongue pressing flat to trace every bulging vein before plunging down once more. The ache building between her legs from how turned on she was just from his reactions. 

“Gahdamn, woman, you too good at this. Pretty wife with that magic mouth,” Smoke growled, stroking her hair soothingly even as he smacked her ass harder, the sound echoing like a drumbeat, “suck it deeper, baby, make them bubbles, let that spit run all over them big titties. This dick yours, yeah? Own it, throat-fuck yourself on it ‘til I bust,” his groans deepened, body tensing as Annie ramped up the suction, holding him buried to the hilt, her throat convulsing in tight pulls that had him biting his lip damn near bloody, eyes never leaving the sight of her eating his dick up. 

From her vantage point on all fours, her gaze flicked up to his face—his chiseled jaw clenched tight, sweat beading on his deep brown skin, those intense dark brown eyes half-lidded and locked in her like she was the only thing that existed in his world. His massive chest healed with each ragged breath, muscles rippling under his thick frame, abs contracting as he fought to hold back just a second longer. Annie could feel the heat radiating off his body, his highs tensing like coiled springs, the scent of his musk in the air mixing with the tang of her own pussy in the air. 

His hips bucked shallowly, fucking her throat in short, desperate thrusts. His dick was rock-hard inside her, veins bulging like ropes under the skin, the shaft swelling even thicker as the base of his dick pressed flush against her lips. Annie moaned around him, making his balls tighten up against her chin—heavy, full orbs drawing up close to his body, churning with the load he’d been building.

“FUCK,” Smoke grunted, the word rumbling from his chest like thunder, Mississippi drawl turning it into a drawn out ‘fuuuuck’. His free hand slapped her ass again, his focus shattering as pleasure overtook him. 

His groans grew louder, animalistic, hips jerking forward as he chased the edge, “baby,” he rasped, biting his lip so hard she saw the white flash of his teeth against his soul patch, “shiit…you got me right there,” Annie’s pussy spasmed, dripping down her thighs from how turned on she was by his undoing—seeing her big, strong husband lose control because of her mouth, her throat, her everything. 

His dick pulsed harder now, the head flaring wide in her throat, stretching her even more. Annie felt his balls contract fully, pulling up tight as the first wave hit him, “I’m a give your beautiful lass what you workin’ so damn hard for, o-okay?” Smoke groaned, his voice breaking on the last word, eyes squeezing shut for a beat before snapping back to her face, watching her take it all. 

Then, he exploded. His entire body went rigid, thighs quaking as a deep, guttural ‘fuuckkkk, baby’ tore from his throat. The first rope of cum shot straight down her gullet, hot and thick, forcing her to swallow convulsively around him. From her view, his dick jerked violently in her mouth, twitching up and down, the shaft rippling as it pumped out load after load. Annie pulled back just enough to catch the next blasts on her tongue, eyes wide as she saw the veins throb visibly, the head swelling purple-red before unleashing creamy-white jets that splattered against the roof of her mouth, overflowing her lips in sticky strands. His balls pulsed with each release, contracting and relaxing, emptying themselves as cum bubbles out around her sucking lips, dripping down her chin onto her seating titties. He was so fucking hard still, even as he came—unyielding steel in her grip, only softening a fraction as the orgasm wracked him. 

“Shit…mmm, yeah, swallow it all, baby,” Smoke panted, body shuddering, sweat trickling down his temples, his shoulders slumping forward slightly as the tension bled out. 

She looks up, seeing the blissed-out haze in his eyes, his chest rising and falling in heavy waves, a satisfied grin cracking his face as he thumbed a stray drop from her lip and pushed it back into her mouth. 

“Gahdamn, woman…you sucked me dry.” 

As he pulled back, he felt the blood rushing right back in, swelling him to full mast again. Smoke stared down at her, sprawled on the bed with cum smeared on her chin and those big, doe eyes sparkling up at him. 

“Gahdamn,” Smoke muttered under his breath, shaking his head in disbelief. Technically, he knew why. His fine ass wife—Annelora Solange Boudreaux–Moore—or Annie as he called her, had that effect on him. A simple smile from her full lips, that NOLA drawl whispering his name, and BOOM, his dick was ready to go again, like it had a mind of its own. 

Smoke leaned down, capturing her mouth in a deep, appreciative kiss, his tongue sweeping in to taste the remnants of himself on her. His lips pressed firm against hers, sucking gently on her bottom lip before diving back in, swirling around her tongue. Annie moaned into it, her body arching up towards him, and he could feel the heat from her pussy radiating up, making his balls tighten anew. That kiss hit straight in the pussy, a jolt of need making her clench. 

Smoke broke the kiss with a low growl, his hand sliding up to cup her jaw, thumb brushing her lips, “mmm, that’s my girl.” 

With a firm grip of her hips, Smoke flipped her onto her back, the bed creaking under his weight as he dragged her body towards the edge, her legs dangling off. Annie let out a bubbly giggle, her big titties jiggling with the motion, that playful spark in her eyes making his dick twitch. 

“What you laughin’ at, woman?” Smoke teased, his voice a deep baritone as he looked over her, one hand pinning her thigh down while the other stroked his hardening length, “I’m ‘bout to make love to this phat pussy and wipe that smile off your face. Turn it into cries.“

Annie’s laughter softened into a husky chuckle, her voice dripping with sass as she bit her lip, gazing up at him, “you say it like that ain’t what I want, Smoke,” her words were a challenge, her pussy aching for him, the plug in her ass causing her to shift her hips, sending sparks through her.

Smoke’s smirk turned primal. His dark eyes flashed with hunger. He grabbed her ankles, strong hands wrapping around them like vices, and folded her in half with effortless power. Her knees bent towards her ears, those heavy titties squishing up against her chin, nipples hard and brushing her skin with every breath. Her feet kicked up in the air for a moment before he planted his own wide stance on the floor, ass hanging just over the edge of the bed. Smoke used his thick, muscled arms to hold her there, pinning her thighs to her sides, his broad chest pressing down to keep her locked in place. Annie gasped at the stretch, her flexibility tested but loving the way his strength dominated her, making her feel small and owned. 

Smoke lined up his thick dick at her wet hole, the fat tip nudging her swollen folds apart. Annie was dripping, phat pussy lips puffy and slick, that big clit peeking out at him. With a slow thrust, Smoke sank that big dick up in her, inch by veiny inch stretching her wide. 

“Mhm? Pussy wet as fuck, baby,” Smoke grunted, his voice breaking into a satisfied hum as he bottomed out, balls slapping against her ass where the plug base peeked out. The sensation of her tightness, combined with the pressure from th plug made his dick pulse inside her. Annie whimpered, her hands clutching at his forearms, nails digging into his skin as he filled her completely. 

“Oh, Smoke…yes, Papa,” she breathed in, eyes fluttering half-shut from the fullness. 

Smoke didn’t waste time easing in. He started pumping her with deep, powerful strokes, his hips snapping forward to drive his dick balls-deep each time, the wet slap of skin on skin echoing through the bedroom. His strength kept her folded tight, her ass lifting slightly off the bed with every plunge of that thick dick. Smoke watched her face, loving how her giggles turned to moans, her mouth falling open in those sweet cries he promised. 

“That’s it, baby girl,” Smoke leaned in closer, his breath against her ear, “take this fuckin’ dick like you know. Pussy squeezin’ me so good—fuck, you feel that?” 

Each pump built the rhythm, his thick shaft dragging along her inner walls, hitting that spot that made her toes curl. Sweat beaded on his forehead, trickling down his temple as his muscles flexed, abs contracting with the force of his drives. Annie’s titties bounced with the motion, pressing against her chin, her big clit grinding against his pubic bone on every hilt.

“Harder, Smoke…please,” Annie begged, her voice a needy whine, body trembling under his control. 

Smoke obliged, grunting with effort as he picked up the pace, pounding into her relentlessly, the bed frame rattling against the wall. 

“Gon’ fuck you ‘til you can’t walk straight, Annie. My nasty wife creamin’ all over this daddy dick.” 

His free hand slipped between them, thumb circling her clit in firm rubs, amplifying the pleasure until her cries filled the air just like he wanted. 

Annie’s eyes darted wildly, flicking from his intense face-sweat-slicked brows furrowed in concentration, those dark eyes locked on hers like he was claiming her soul—to the mesmerizing sight of his fat, slightly curved dick disappearing into her folds and emerging shiny with her cream. Annie watched it stretch her wide, the way her clit throbbed against his base on each drive, her juices painting his length in a glossy sheen that dripped down to coat his heavy sack.

“Ohhh, fuck, Smoke,” Annie gasped, voice hitching with the force of it, her neon yellow toes flexing in the air as her folded body rocked under him. Annie whimpered, her big titties heaving against her chin with each powerful stroke, nipples peaked, “yes, Papa…tear it up,” she moaned, her drawl thick and needy, eyes glazing over as she felt another wave of slickness coat him, painting his dick white even more. Her hands clawed at the sheets now while Smoke’s feee hand gripped her hip, fingers digging into her soft flesh to pull her onto him harder, his grunts mixing with the obscene squelch of her wetness. 

“Fuck, baby, you takin’ it so good. Gon’ make you cum all over this fuckin’ dick,” Smoke growled, snapping forward again, the head of his dick kissing the bottom of her pussy with a bruising force. Her cries sharpened, breath hitching in time with his thrusts. 

Smoke’s strong hands clamped around Annie’s ankles, yanking her legs high and wide, hoisting her hips clean off the bed in one fluid motion. Her ass covered there, suspended in his grip. Smoke didn’t ease up—hell nah—his thick, veiny dick plunged straight back into her creamy pussy, driving deep and relentless, the head battering her A-spot with ever unyielding stroke. The bed creaked under the force, his hips pistoning like a machine, balls swinging heavy to clap against her cheeks with sharp, echoing slaps that turned her skin a deeper shade of mahogany. 

Her big titties bounced wildly now, smacking together and swaying side to side. Annie’s face twisted into that perfect fucked-out glaze, eyes half-lidded and unfocused, mouth slack as drool pooled at the corner of her full lips, deep, dark skin sheenjng with sweat. Every inch of her looked utterly claimed, sexy as fuck while Papa Smoke wrecked her good. Annie was stupid on it, mind blanking out from the nonstop stretch and fill, her phat lips sucking him in greedily, cream frothing at the base where the joined, trickling down to soak the plug.

“Fuck yeah, take this dick, girl,” Smoke rasped, sweat dripping from his brow into her heaving chest as he hammered away, the wet squelch of her pussy louder than her gasps. His muscles flexed, biceps bulging as he held her aloft, using her body like his personal fuck toy, each thrust snapping her breath away and making her walls spasm around his girth, “so damn wet, gripping me tight, gon’ make you paint daddy whole dick and balls, fuck, this pussy goo—ahhhhh, fuuuck.” 

Annie’s voice came out shaky, trembling, breaking as another wave built fast and fierce, “Papa…I’m gon’ squirt,” Annie warned, the words slurring through gritted teeth, her body tensing in his hold, thighs quivering against his palms while her pussy clenched harder, ready to unleash.

“Don’t tell me, do the shit, push it out on this dick, baby. Go on, push f’me. That’s my gushy pussy, right? I earned that. Push it…uhuh…give Papa that wet and gushy, girl.” 

His words hit her like a spark to dry tinder, Annie’s body obeying before her mind could catch up. She bore down hard, muscles clenching in her belly and thighs, forcing the tension to uncoil from deep within. A sharp, electric jolt ripped through her pelvis first, her pussy contracting in fierce spasms around his plunging shaft, the plug in her ass adding pressure that made everything feel impossibly full and stretched. 

Then, she broke. Annie’s release hit like a floodgate shattering. Clear fluid gushed out from her in forceful spurts, soaking his dick and balls, spraying across his abdomen and dripping down to the sheets below. Her hips bucked in his hold, the sensation a wild mix of relief and exploding all at once. Every nerve lit up, dark thighs trembling uncontrollably. A high, keening moan echoed. 

Smoke didn’t stop. Fuck no. He powered through it, hips snapping forward harder, wet slaps turning even louder as her squirt lubed him up more, making his entry slicker an deeper. 

“That’s it, baby, flood this dick,” Smoke growled, his eyes locked on the mess she made, his own arousal spiking at the sight of her losing control. He angled his thrusts to rub against that spot inside her, prolonging the hush, drawing out more sprays that splashed against his skin while her body shook and quivered. Annie’s mind went hazy, the pleasure bordering on too much, wall fluttering erratically as aftershocks rippled through her, leaving her limp and gasping. 

Smoke eased his throbbing dick free from Annie’s drenched folds with a slick pop, pussy twitching from aftershocks, a trail of her squirt and his pre-cum linking them for a beat before snapping. Smoke leaned over her, lips crashing into hers in a deep, hungry, tongue kiss. Their mouths widened, tongues sliding and tangling with the taste of their own release lingering between them. 

Annie’s hand slid down instinctively, fingers wrapping around his soaked dick. She stroked him slow, feeling the veins pulse under her palm, the head still flared and leaking as she pumped from base to tip, thumb circling the ridge to tease out more of that clear bead. Her other arm looped around his neck to pull him closer, big tits pressing flat against his chest.

Smoke broke the kiss first, nipping at her lower lip, voice rough and satisfied, “Damn, you wet me up, woman.” 

Annie grinned against his mouth, “you always know where to put that dick to make me squirt.” 

Smoke chuckled low, sitting back to take her in. His hands hooked under her knees, spreading her thighs wide, exposing everything—the glossy sheen coating her inner thighs, her puffy pussy lips parted and glistening, and lower, that shiny plug nestled snug between her round cheeks, the base winking up at him. Smoke stared, hunger sharpening his gaze, one hand trailing up her calf to admire how the neon yellow on her toes gleamed in the light. 

“You ready for this, baby?” Smoke whispered, voice dropping thicker, eyes flicking to hers, “Ready for this dick deep in this tight ass? Gon’ fill you up back here, stretch you just right.” 

Annie nodded, biting her lip, her body still humming from the high, ass clenching around the plug in anticipation, “Yeah, Papa…I’m ready. Been waitin’ for it.” 

Smoke grabbed on of her ankles then, lifting it high, his lips brushing feather-like kisses along the arch, tongue flicking out to taste the salt of her skin. He worked his way up, peppering soft presses from her heel to the ball of her foot, sucking gently on her big toe for a second, making her shiver, “Papa’s here, baby,” he soothed, eyes locked on hers, warm but commanding, “Gon’ take it slow, let you get used to me slidin’ in. Breathe for me, okay? You take it so good already with that plug. Now, you gon’ feel me own that hole. 

Smoke’s fingers gripped the base of the plug, twisting it gently as he pulled, the flared end popping free from Annie’s tight ring with a wet, audible suck. Her asshole winked open for a second, a dribble of lube seeping out before it clenched back down, leaving her hole quivering and empty. Annie, gasped, hips bucking slightly, the sudden void making her clench her fists in the sheets.

“Fuck, that felt good comin’ out,” she said, voice husky, eyes heavy-lidded as she watched him. 

Smoke sat the plug aside on the nightstand with a clink, then he reached for the drawer, pulling out a fresh bottle of lube—thick, clear gel that warmer on contact—and a small towel to wide his hands. His dick bobbed heavy between his legs, slick from her pussy, veins thick and prominent, the head swollen and leaking steadily now. 

“Gon’ make this ass mine proper,” Smoke grunted low, squirting a generous dollop into his palm and slathering it over his shaft, stroking himself a few times to coat every inch, the lube making obscene squelching sounds as if mixed with her remnants.

Annie licked her lips, gaze dripping to his dick, then up to his face, “wait, baby…put on that cock ring first. Want you throbbin’ even harder when you slide in.” 

Smoke paused, a smirk tugging at his mouth, and leaned over to the bedside table, fishing out the ring from the clutter of toys and condoms. It was a thick, silicone band, jet black and stretchy, about an inch wide with a subtle ridge rubbing along the inner edge for extra grip. The top part had a smaller loop designed to circle the base of his balls, keeping everything snug and restricted, while the main ring hugged the root of his dick tight. He handed it to her, settling back on his knees, “Go ‘head, baby. Stretch it over me.” 

Annie sat up a bit, her big tits swaying as she took it, warming the silicone between her fingers. She looped the ball ring first. Sliding it down behind his sack, the material snapping lightly against his skin as it settled, pulling his heavy balls forward and low, making them hang fuller, more prominent. Then, she worked the main band over the head of his dick, easing it down the length until it locked around the base like a vice, compressing the spongy tissue just enough to trap the blood, his shaft swelling even girthier kn response. The ridge dug in faintly, a constant pressure that made the veins bulge out more, his dick looking even longer. 

Smoke hissed through his teeth as it settled, the tightness sensing a jolt to his core, a deep building ache that made his dick twitch and pulse harder, precum oozing in a thicker bead from his slit. 

“Shit, grippin’ me good,” Smoke rumbled. Flexing his hips to feel the pull and the way it restricted the flow and amped up every sensation. Like his entire length was on edge, ready to burst but held back. His balls felt heavier too, tugged forward, sensitive to the slightest brush of air. Smoke gave it an experimental stroke, the lube slicking over the ring, and groaned at how the pressure made his top hypersensitive, every glide feeling intensified. 

Annie admired her work, tracing a nail along the stretched band, watching his dick jump, “looks so fuckin’ big like that. Gon’ feel you stretch me wide, Daddy.” 

Satisfied, Smoke moved then, strong hands gripping Annie’s hips and flipping her with ease onto her back at the bed’s edge. He dragged her son until her ass hung off, cheeks spreading naturally over the mattress drop, exposing her puckered hole fully. 

“Legs up baby. Knees to your chest,” Smoke commanded, voice firm but laced with that affectionate drawl. 

Annie obeyed quickly, hooking her arms under her thighs and pulling them high, folding herself open like a present, her phat pussy lips parting above her ass, clit peeking swollen and dark while that asshole winked invitingly below.

Smoke stepped between her spread thighs, one foot on the floor for leverage, the other knee on the bed, towering over her like that. His lubed dick in hand, he pressed the blunt tip right against her rim, rubbing slow circles, smearing the gel around her entrance, feeling the heat of her hole kiss back. The ring at his base made every nudge feel sharper, his head budging insistent but not pushing in yet, just teasing, dipping shallow to let her relax around the pressure. 

“Breathe deep for me, baby. Feel that tip right there? That’s where I’m goin’. Deep as you can take.” 

Annie’s breath hitched sharp, a low whine escaping her throat as that thick tip forced her open. It burned at first, a deep, insistent stretch that made her asshole flutter an clench, trying to push him out even as her body craved more. But the lube smoothed it, turning the ache into a throbbing heat that radiated up her spine, her pussy clenching empty above in sympathy, juices trickling down to mix with the slick at her hole. Fullness bloomed inside her, pressure building like she was being split ski and thorough, every vein on his shaft dragging against her inner ridges as he sank deeper.

“Ooh, Smoke…it’s so big…stretchin’ me so wide,” her voice was thick with need, body trembling under the intensity, nerves firing wild as pleasure edged in, making her clit pulse untouched. 

For Snoke, it was pure fuckin’ heaven. The way her ass gripped him like a hot, velvet fist, tighter than her pussy ever could, sucking at his length with every careful thrust forward. The cock ring bit in at his base, amplifying everything, trapping the blood so his shaft swelled even harder inside her, every ridge and vein hypersensitive to the clench of her walls. Smoke groaned deep, the restriction making his balls draw up tight, aching with the need to bury himself balls deep. 

“Good girl, Annie…that’s my baby, takin’ Papa’s dick so good,” Smoke rumbled, eyes locked on where they joined, mesmerized by the sight of her hole devouring him. Smoke pushed another inch, feeling her yield.

The faded into a delicious fullness that made her hips twitch, wanting him all in, her ass quivering around the invading thickness. Pressure built low in her belly, pussy lips swelling further, clit throbbing as if jealous of the attention below. 

“Suckin’ me in, ain’t you? Fuck, this ass is grippin’ so tight,” Snoke growled, his hands sliding to her cheeks, spreading her wider to watch himself disappear, the sensation like fire coiling in his gut. 

Snoke rocked forward again, easing past the halfway mark, her walls rippling around him, drawing him deeper with involuntary spasms. Sweat beaded on his brow, muscles in his arms flexing as he held back, savoring the drag, the way she fluttered and fought to take him. 

“Yesss, let Papa open this ass up…you doin’ so good, baby.” 

Annie's eyes watered a bit but it was from the overwhelming rush, her body arching as much as the position allowed. Waves of pleasure rolled through her, the fullness pressing against spots inside that makes her gasp and whimper. 

“Deeper, please…feels like you rearrangin’ me,” Annie panted, voice husky, loving the way he filled her completely, every nerve alight. 

Smoke chuckled, thrusting shallow now to loosen her up, the motion sending jolts up his spine, his dick throbbing, “Gon’ fuck you ‘til you screamin’ my name. You look so beautiful like this, all opened up for me, takin’ it like a champ,” Another inch sank in, her hole stretching taut around his girth and he praised her more, words filthy and tender mixed, “There you go, my good girl…Papa’s gon’ make this hole his forever.” 

Smoke folded her up tight, knees to chest, big tits squished between them as her ass lifted higher, that stretched hole fully impaled in his dick. With a deep breath, Smoke pulled back slow, the slick drag of her ass clinging to every inch, lube squelching wet as he withdrew to the tip, her ring fluttering reluctant around the ridge of his crown. Then, he drove in again, bottoming out with a firm slap of his hips to her cheeks, the ring tapping rhythmically against her skin with each thrust, a lewd smack echoing in the bedroom. 

Annie’s ass clenched with each pass, creating a suction that tugged at his skin, making his dick throb harder. His balls tightened with the buildup, the restriction amplifying every sensation until his abs clenched, thighs burning from pleasure coiled low and fierce in his gut, urging him to go harder but holding back to savor the slide. 

Smoke looked down at Annie, his big titty wife all folded and vulnerable, lips parted in a constant moan, pussy glistening above. She looked so damn sexy like that, fucked open and taking him deep, her asshole stretched wide around his girth, the sight making his dick twitch inside her.

“Papa in that ass, baby?” Smoke rasped, voice thick, pulling out slow again, watching her hole try to follow before he sank back in, lube slurping softly around them.

Annie gasped, body shuddering with the fullness, the deep strokes hitting nerves that made her toes flex, “y-yess, Papa…all in my ass,” Annie whimpered.

“Papa making that ass feel good, huh?” Another slow pull-out, then plunge, Smoke’s body buzzing, muscles flexing as he held her folded, the sensation of her tightness making his pulse race.

“Oh, fuck, yes…feels so full, so good stretchin’ me,” Annie panted, her big tits bouncing slightly with each stroke, pussy dripping onto his balls below, the pressure building inside her like a storm. 

The way she bit her lip had Smoke locked on her face, picking up the pace just a fraction, the wet sounds growing louder, “you like big dick in your butt, don’t you?” Smoke pressed, voice dropping low and commanding, hips rolling to bury himself fully, the glide of her insides stroking him perfect. 

“Mmm, love it, Smoke…love that big dick fillin’ my butt,” Annie confessed breathlessly. 

Smoke eased out just enough to reposition. He locked eyes with her, voice dropping to that commanding growl, “hold your ankles, baby. Grip ‘em tight for me.” 

Her hands reached down to wrap around her ankles, pulling her legs wide and back, filing herself deeper. Her phat pussy lips parted more. Smoke leaned back on his knees, hands on her thighs for leverage, admiring how she looked splayed out, big tits heaving.

“Now, Papa ‘bout to go faster. Gon’ fuck this ass open real good, okay? You gotta keep these legs open, Annie. That’s the only way I’m a fuck this ass how you want it, understand? You gotta do as you told to get what you want, baby. Say, yes sir.” 

“Y-yes, Sir,” Annie spoke breathlessly. 

Smoke’s hips snapped forward harder, pace building, each plunge pulling her rim taut around his shaft, the lube letting him slide in and out with obscene slaps, balls swinging to tap her cheeks. The cock ring smacked against her skin louder, that big dick pistoning full length, from tip to base, her insides rippling in protest and pleasure, gripping him like a vice that loosened just enough with every drive. 

One hand shot up to grab a handful of her big titty, fingers sinking into the soft flesh, kneading rough as he pinched her nipple between thumb and forefinger, rolling it firm. His other hand dipped lower, thumb circling her big, phat clit, stroking over it in a firm circle, the nub hard and pulsing under his touch. Annie bucked at the contact, a fresh gush of wetness coating his fingers, her ass clenching down on his dick in response. 

When his thumb pulled back, a thick, slimy trail of her arousal stretched her clit to his skin, glistening in the light, pussy absolutely soaked, juices trailing down to mix with the lube around his base. Smoke’s eyes heated at the sight, his thrusts picking up speed, pounding deeper.

“Damn, baby, you so fuckin’ wet,” his thumb dipped back to swipe through her slick again before returning to rub her clit steady, “yeah, you feelin’ good.” 

The dual assault in her ass and clit sent shocks through her, “yes, Papa…feels fuckin’ amazin’ stretchin’ and fuckin’ me so deep with that big ass dick,” Annie’s walls spasmed around him. 

Smoke’s rhythm shifted, his body coiling like a predator ready to unleash. Smoke released her ankle grip with a firm pat on her thigh, but she kept them hooked tight, legs splayed obscenely, her plush frame pinned open for him. Rising up, Smoke planted his fists on either side of her hips, knuckles digging into the mattress, toes curling for balance as he shifted into that push-up stance, his massive, muscled frame hovering dominant over her softer curves—broad shoulders, flexing, abs rippling under sweat-slicked skin, that thick dick still buried deep in her ass, twitching with anticipation.

“Papa, gonna power through this tight ass. Take every inch of this dick,” Smoke’s hips drew back smooth, pulling halfway out with a slick drag that made her rim flutter,,5$3! He dropped forward, powerful thrusts slamming his full length back in, balls slapping heavy against her ass with a stinging smack. 

The sensation exploded for Annie, that relentless drive hitting deeper, sending jolts up her spine. She was stuck, body locked in place under his bulk, the air punched from her lungs. No words formed, just a fractured gasp escaping her lips, her mouth falling open in silent shock as the pleasure bordered on overwhelm, ass clenching futilely around his big dick.

Smoke didn’t let up, hips pistoning smooth and forceful, each drop of his body driving that thick ass dick deep. His bulky strength pinned her without even touching, the sheer power of his thrusts rocking her tits wildly.

“Breathe through it, Annie,” Smoke rasped, voice steady despite the strain in his clenched jaw, eyes never leaving her face, watching every twitch, every helpless quiver, “you takin’ this dick so good, baby. Feel that burn turn sweet? Yeah, let it build, baby. Papa’s got you…making this ass mine, fill you up ‘til you can’t think straight. All you gon’ do is let me fuck this ass? This my tight–fuckin’–ass, baby? Who this ass belong to—”

“You! Fuuuuck—ssss—Smoke!—nnghhhhh—ahh-ah-ah—”

All she could manage were shards of sound—tiny, broken moans fracturing into whimpers, incoherent hums vibrating from her throat as he fucked her silent, plush body yielding under his torture. The friction built fire in her belly, walls spasming erratically, milking him as he powered on, taking her ass. 

“All quiet and took,” Smoke continued, breath ragged, hips snapping faster, the head of his dick battering her depths, “Just feel it. Moan for Daddy if you can, but I know you deep in it now, thick ass built for this dick—Gon’ make you cum from this alone, watch you bust all over me,” his muscles bulged with the effort, sweat beading down his chest, but Smoke held steady, dominating her completely, turning her into a vessel of raw, wordless ecstasy. 

Smoke sank deeper into her, that tight grip of her ass pulling him under like quicksand, every slide in and out blurring the edges of his control. Smoke grunted low. Lost in the slick drag and the way she yielded and fought back all at once, “fuck, Annie,” he muttered through gritted teeth, his voice a rough drawl this with pleasure, “this ass got me hooked…grippin’ my dick up tight, baby, you take big dick in the ass just how I knew you would…fuck, look at this shit…” 

Below him, Annie’s body betrayed her in the best way, her pussy clenching on empty air, untouched but alive with fire. The pressure built in her core, a tidal wave she couldn’t hold, her clit pulsing hard without a single brush. Annie couldn’t wrap her head around it—him buried only in her ass, pounding steady, and here she was, teetering on the edge of release, juices gathering hot and insistent. Her thighs trembled in her own hook, neon yellow toes curling into the soles of her feet as the first warning spasms hit. 

Smoke caught the shift in her eyes, that wide, desperate gleam and adjusted quick, hands sliding up to brace firm on the backs of her thighs, prsssing them wider, folding her deeper into herself. His hips kept rolling, powerful and relentless, slamming that full length home with each thrust, the cock ring bumping her, teasing without mercy. The bed creaked under them, his bulky frame driving down, muscles bunching in his arms and chest as he held her open, fucking her tight ass with a precision that bordered on savage—deep strokes that stretched her rim wide, filled her to bursting. 

Eyes locked tight on hers, dark and fierce, Smoke wasn’t messing around, reading every flicker on her face like a map to her breaking point, “what’s that look, baby?” He rasped, breath uneven, hips snapping forward again, balls tapping with each descent all heavy and sticky with lube and her juices, “you feelin’ it coming? Tell Big Daddy what’s got you shakin’ like that…”

Annie’s mouth worked but the words tangled, coming out in fractured bursts, “S-S-Smoke, oh, God, I’m—gonna…I’m gonna…s-s-squirt,” her voice a high, breathless whine, barely audible over the slick sounds of him claiming her. Annie arched as much as she could under his weight, pussy lips quivering, the convulsion turning to a flood she couldn’t stop, her whole body tensing like a bowstring. 

Smoke grinned feral through his clenched jaw, thumbs digging into her soft flesh to hold her steady, “yeah? From this dick in your ass? That’s my girl—let it go, Annie. Squirt all over me, soak me wit’ all that pussy juice while I tear this up,” his thrusts picked up, relentless, the head of his dick grinding her depths, pushing her right over as her warning disabled into a sharp cry, her release hitting hard and sudden. 

Smoke’s voice dropped low and commanding, cutting through the haze of her building storm like a lifeline, his words wrapping around her as tight as his grip on her thighs, “That’s my good girl, squirt all over me, you holdin’ that cum in my pussy now push it out, let it out on me, girl, I’m a keep fucking this ass, I know that,” Smoke drove in harder, the thick base of his dick stretching her rim with every plunge, the ring at his root grinding against her, sparking those empty clenches into overdrive. 

Annie’s body shattered under the pressure, her pussy contracting wild and fierce, the first hot gush erupting from her in a forceful spray that arced up, splattering his abs and the sheets below, “Ooooooo, FUCK, Smoke! Oh lawwdddd—I’m squirtin’!” Annie cried out, voice cracking high in that lilt, juices pulsing out in rhythmic bursts, drenching her thighs and his heavy balls slapping against her. Smoke was glossed up with all that liquid that shot from her pussy. Annie had droplets of it rolling over her dark skin. 

Smoke watched it all, eyes burning into hers, “Hell yeah, look at you go, baby…my dirty lil’ squirter soakin’ everything like a good wife s’ppose to. Keep cummin’, baby, I know you got more in that phat pussy,” his muscles flexed, holding her folded and exposed, letting her ride the peak while he claimed her ass, the wet slaps echoing louder over her gasps. 

Then, with a forceful pull, Smoke eased his throbbing length free from her ass, the sudden emptiness hitting her like a shockwave, her ring fluttering open, greedy and denied, sending a fresh surge through her pussy. Another jet shot out, stronger this time, spraying across his chest as she bucked, the sensation of him withdrawing amplifying the aftershocks, her walls spasming hard on nothing. 

“Shit—S-Smoke, pullin’ outta me like t-that…more’s comin’! Fuuuucckkkk,” Annie whimpered, hips jerking involuntarily, the flood unrelenting. 

Quick as lightning, Smoke’s hand cracked down on her ass cheek, a sharp pop that stung hot and made her yelp, the flesh jiggling under the impact, “stay still, girl—Daddy gon’ clean you up,” Smoke growled, the dominance in his Mississippi drawl thick as cold grits, bending his broad frame forward without missing a beat. His mouth descended on her drenched pussy, tongue diving in flat and broad, lapping up the mess with hungry, slurping strokes that dragged from her pussy hole to her swollen clit. 

Smoke sucked her folds into his mouth, tongue swirling through the slick release, tasting her sharp and sweet cleaning every inch with flicks and probes, “Mmm, fuck, you taste like heaven after a squirt,” Smoke muttered against her pussy lips, the vibrations shooting through her sensitive flesh as he delved deeper, nose bumping her clit while his lips puckered at her entrance, sealing around her hole, drawing out more creamy wetness with greedy pulls that made her eyes cross. Annie’s hands flew to his head, fingers gripping coarse curls, thighs quivering. 

Smoke’s tongue pulled away from her soaked pussy with a final, greedy suck, leaving her glistening and twitching in the aftermath. Without a word, his eyes locked on hers. Smoke shifted his hips forward, the fat head of his dick pressing against her still-gaping ass. He pushed in slow at first, the thick shaft sliding through her slick ring, stretching her wide again as she gasped, her body yielding to the familiar burn. Inch by inch, he sank deep, burning himself balls deep. 

One hand planted firm on the back of her thigh, keeping her ass elevated and open for him. His other hand snaked between them, thumb finding her swollen clit, rubbing firm circles over the hard nub. Smoke didn’t ease in. Once seated fully, he started thrusting sharp and relentless, hips snapping forward to drive his full length into her ass with punishing force, pulling out his enough to slam back in, the wet smack of skin on skin filling the bedroom. 

Her big tits bounced wildly across her chest. The bed rocked under them, frame knocking hard against the wall as his pace turned savage, muscles in his arms and back bulging. 

“Yes, Papa, push that big dick in me—YES! Feels so good, mmm, yes, you fuck all my holes so fuckin’ good—make that dick cum, YES!” 

Smoke stayed silent now. Only grunts escaped his lips—deep, guttural sounds that vibrated through his chest as he pounded her ass without mercy. His thumb pressed harder on her clit, feeling her pulse throb under his touch. Skin sweat-slicked and hot to the touch as he chased his release, the pressure building in his balls, heavy and full, ready to unload deep inside of her. Her praises fueled the fire as her tits jiggled erratically, body trembling on the edge of another peak from the dual assault.

“Mmm, that big dick throbbin’ inside…you fuck me better than any man, love how you make my ass grip that big dick…”

“Don’t stop, Smoke—balls slapping my ass got me leakin’ everywhere. You my king, poundin’ this ass right, Daddy!” 

“Fuck, baby, I can feel you swellin’…give it to me…shoot that nut deep…that’s my man…my dick…I’m yours to fuck…yes…nnghhh…oh, Smoke, yes—”

Smoke’s thrusts turned even more ferocious. That dick was throbbing like iron inside Annie, heavy with a load he was about to bust. Smoke grabbed her thighs roughly, forcing her legs up higher, her knees hooked up near her ears like earmuffs, holding her in half and exposing every inch of her. Her pussy lips parted obscenely as he drilled into her ass with savage, piston-like strokes, the head of his dick battering deep, stretching her ring to its limit with each punishing plunge. 

Annie’s body quivered uncontrollably, the pressure building on her stomach until it shattered, her orgasm ripping through her like lightning, pussy leaking a fresh gush of slick cum down her crack, soaking his balls as they slapped against her. Annie moaned loud and broken, whimpers spilling from her lips in a frantic song, big titties mashed against her knees.

A deep growl rumbled from Smoke’s throat, his eyes locking onto hers wildly, “Baby, babe, I’m a fuckin’ nut in this ass—I’m’bout to fill this ass up, fuuuck—say my fuckin’ name, say who fuckin’ you like this.” 

Annie’s voice cracked through the haze of pleasure, “Elijah, fuck, Elijah, yes—you fuckin your wife like this. Can’t nobody fuck me like you do, Papa…”

The woman was bent over in front of a floor-length mirror, hands behind her back, wrists in the man’s hands as he stroked her deep. The position was dirty, but the grin she wore was dirtier. She’d planned all of this. The night out. The eyes thrown across the club. The dancing on anyone she could get her hands on. The text that she was ready to go. And this—being fucked deep like his problem was with her body and not with the slow, knowing temptation she’d been working against him all evening.

Annie knew how obsessed Smoke was with her. The man would do just about anything she said; He’d beg, plead, and grovel for her to bark a command. And he would swiftly obey. Although they primarily moved behind closed doors and under the cover of night, Annie adored that part of their relationship—the ease of it. He always gave in, always let her have everything she wanted with a quick text or raising of her voice.

And there was no limit to Annie’s wants or needs.

Pressing her fingertips into his lower abdomen from behind, the woman began to rock back into him, meeting his thrusts and causing the man’s breath to falter. Smoke choked from the way she was gripping him. She took control even when her hands were behind her back. She fucked him like the pro she was, driving him crazy out of his mind.

Annie was addictive in the worst way. When they weren’t together, all Smoke could think of was her body, how she used it against him, how she flaunted it. When she was playing ghost, making him crave her more through the distance, all he could think about was the way she’d fuck him when her need got too high—too reckless to play games any longer.

“I ain’t never leavin’ this li’l shit,” Smoke groaned, watching the way her pussy gripped him as she snapped her hips back. He watched their bodies collide in the mirror, eyes rolling back when the pleasure started to roll through him, and Annie smirked.

“Look at me,” she demanded, growling when the man moaned from the sound of her voice alone. Her pace kicked up, knees locking in place, and when he looked at her reflection, the man nearly collapsed.

She was staring into his soul while she fucked herself on his length. It had gotten to the point that he could barely keep up with her pace, hips stalling and letting her control the flow.

Annie clenched on purpose, laughing seductively at his wet eyes.

She always had one goal: To how him how big of a freak she could be. She wanted to amaze him. To use him. To ruin his mind and body for any other woman. But she never had to do much. Smoke was simply amazed, astonished, and overcome by all things Annie.

Ripping her wrists from his hold, Annie turned quick. She put her back to the mirror, and as her knees hit the carpet, Smoke’s breath caught in his throat. The woman’s mouth dropped open, slow and greedy. When she engulfed him, her eyes stayed on his the entire time, penetrating his soul and bringing him back to that moment in the club.

They’d arrived separately—Annie with a group of her friends and Smoke with his brother. Since they fucked each other on the low, it was how they always did things. Smoke had come to expect seeing Annie out late at night, throwing ass in a group of strange men— just waiting for him to arrive and catch her. She loved having all eyes in her, how people could stop but turn their heads when she walked past smelling good and dressed skimpy. And she loved that Smoke could never do anything about it.

When he stepped in the club, the only eyes she cared about were his. She could feel him lurking, could sense his eyes dragging to her thighs and how short her dress was. Annie laughed under her breath. He’d told her to stopping going out dressed wild like she didn’t have plans to go home with him later that night.

But nobody told Annie what to do—not even one half of the SmokeStack Twins.

Grinding back into the body of a man who thought buying her a drink meant he had access to her for the rest of the night, the woman locked eyes with Smoke. She grinned, rose her left eyebrow, and smiled wickedly, watching every emotion as it passed across his face.

Jealousy. Possession. Anger.

But Annie let him know that he had no right to be upset with her. She belonged to no one while he belonged to her. That’s why when she texted him that she was ready to go, he took his ass to the parking lot, opened his passenger side door, and helped her settle in.

And the entire time, Annie smirked, eyes penetrating his soul.

Annie stared up at him as she swallowed him, fucking his body into a state of shock. His hands reached for her, desperately needing the stability that she was sucking out of him. He grabbed her face, then her hair. But Annie swatted him away.

With her hands behind her back on her own volition, she deep-throated him, showing off how well she could take it, how he’d never find anything half as good as what she could give. She could feel him crumbling and on the verge of breaking open for her already. She relaxed her throat, dropped her jaw, and moaned around his length as she swallowed him with more energy than before.

She gave all of herself, and as the man came down her throat—his cry loud and full of pleasure, body rocking into her mouth—Annie forced him to keep his eyes on her. The whole damn time.

The smile grew on her lips, turning wicked as she watched him stutter through the orgasm. He was having the hardest time letting that glorious feeling sink into his bones, limbs locked up to keep from trembling, but Annie wasn’t having any of that. She kept going. Kept fucking him. She sucked him through it and past the point of overstimulation, and when he came a second time, she was satisfied when his body turned limp.

Face fucked silly and cum-soaked, Annie stood to the man’s height. She kissed his jaw. Then his nose. Then his neck before whispering in his ear:

“I ain’t done wit’ you just yet, baby.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

a/n: this is short but i’m currently working on a reallll long smut fic to be posted tomorrow…. like 15,000 words long..... stay tuned lol

taglist: comment HERE to be added!