Honestly I am not a writer but was thinking about the paternal side of smoke when he taught the little girl about negotiating! It was an epic part of the film that I think shows so much of his character as a father figure.. so what if his baby girl would’ve lived. I think that scene showed parallels to if she would’ve lived, how he would have been in a way. Idk my first ever anything !
“ Papa!! Papa look what I got “ the young girl shrilled excitedly as she ran into the front yard. Smoke had turned to quickly see his baby girl barreling towards him. He snatched her up before she could run face front into his lower half.
“ whoa slow down baby girl, you nearly knocked papa off his feet” he said with a chuckle. “ awe papa nobody can knock YOU down, not even uncle stack!“ his little girls faced twisted in a sly grin that mirrored his twin as she looked at him & said “cept mama.” she beamed at her papa and he looked at her bashfully knowing she was telling the truth.
“ what’s got you so in a hurry ? “ he asked his beautiful little girl. She slowly opened her tiny hand to show him the nickel that lay upon it. Smoke raised his eyebrows and scrunched his face in mild confusion. Not that he didn’t know what a nickel was, but because he didn’t understand the cats meow about a nickel. He had always given his baby girl the world. She never knew what it felt like to wake up before God to go and pick cotton, she never had to feel the burn of the Mississippi sun beating down on her back and she didn’t have to feel the blood drip from her hands because of the hard dried pericarp of cotton. And as long as he lived and breathed she would never know that life, sharecropper was another word for slave, and she would never know the feeling of being either. She was down right spoiled, let her mama tell it. “ she’ont know the meaning of the word no when it comes to you Elijah” he could hear Annie telling him when he brought her home a new doll or teddy. This was his purpose though, when he found out Annie was pregnant it grounded him.
She and the baby stabilized him. He realized he could no longer be the man who cared about nothing except protecting his brother, he had to protect himself so he could be there to protect his wife & little one. He had decided he was done with robbing and scheming and the money he had saved up he opened a shop, a shop by day servicing the black folk of the community and a juke joint by night, giving freedom to hard day and week they put in. It was so successful stack even had to invest in the business. So it puzzled him because his baby girl had plenty of nickels in the jar her mama gave her as a piggy bank, what was so special about this one?
“You got a nickel from ya bank ?” Smoke asked his little girl. She shook her head and said “ no papa, I got it from cousin Sammie” “Sammie ?” Smoke question raising his right eyebrow, what Sammie give you a nickel for ? “
“ he tried to give me a wooden nickel, said he needed me to watch out for uncle Jed while he go walk a lady down the road.” Smokes brows raised high to meet the lining of his hair he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “ he wanted you to do what now ?” “ but I told him I’m not watchin less he give me a real nickel, then he said he give me two wooden nickels.” She raised her index and her middle fingers to emphasize the number two. Smoke stared in disbelief as his daughter recounted the story. “I said 1 nickel or I’m not watching for you. He aint want too but he gave me the nickel see papa” Alisha ( Ali for short) held the nickel in between her and her papa eyeing it with pride. He couldn’t help but smile a big wide grin. Both of their deep dimples showing while he held her as she looked at the nickel and he looked at her. His heart burst with love. Ever since she could talk, which was the age of 3 , he started teaching her the ways to negotiate and stand up for herself. He would always be there, but he knew he carried a lot of sins from his past and one day that might catch up. So he wanted to teach her everything he knew so she wouldn’t be vulnerable to the ways of man. Negotiating was the first lesson. Knowing your worth and what you have to offer. He beamed with pride as he kissed her little dimple and held her close and said “ that’s papas baby girl”
Annie, an 18-year-old from New Orleans, moves to Clarksdale with dreams of building a life all her own. There she meets Smoke, a 21-year-old war veteran with a dangerous reputation. What grows between them is sweet, sticky, and Southern— a smoldering love set against a world of bootlegging, Hoodoo, and blues.
Chapter 10
The house was quiet after the rumble of Smoke’s truck faded into the night, the scent of Annie’s perfume oil and Smoke’s frustration all that was left behind.
Outside, a strong wind swept through the land turning dead leaves into little cyclones. It rattled the bones of the house, making the porch floorboards groan even though no living soul dared to darken their front porch this time of night. The soothing song of crickets rubbing their wings together layered over the quiet of the woods and the sudden, sharp whistle that pierced the night air whenever a train passed by in the distance.
Stack was used to that. A solitude that never felt quiet or empty. Because his twin was always somewhere orbiting him in some way.
He set the book that he never meant to read in the first place down on the coffee table and sighed.
He was happy for Smoke.
He’d seen him with plenty women before. Women he brought back to the house, women he took on dates, good women, beautiful women.
But he’d never seen him look at them the way he looked at Annie.
And Annie looked at Smoke the way nobody ever had. Like she believed there was something there worth saving.
He watched them watch each other through the mirror with something in their eyes that lived there like it was second nature. They held whole conversations with just looks and facial expressions. Stack would catch them at it, his eyes flicking curiously between the two.
That made him chuckle to himself.
He liked Annie for his brother. She was a good girl. From a good family in New Orleans from what he’d heard from her great-aunt Della.
Between feelings of genuine happiness and a twinge of protectiveness, something cold and unfamiliar made his gut twist. Something he didn’t want to admit out loud.
It was something that he hadn't experienced since his father first put his hands on him as a child.
Smoke was a killer. They both were. Sure, most of it was deserved. Between the war and niggas who would have killed them if they didn’t shoot first. But they had innocent blood on their hands too. Ancestral blood.
Stack stood from the couch and walked towards the back door, deciding to check on the still to keep his mind on things that mattered right now. He passed by their military trunk and paused. He took two steps back and looked over at the trunk that sat untouched for years in their home. Then he turned to crouch in front of it.
The faded blue wooden trunk had years of history soaked into its grain. The top opened with a loud groan of metal creaking on the hinges.
At the top were basic things. Two helmets, two army blankets, bayonets, French guns, knives, binoculars, and ammunition they carried back from the war.
A tin nestled beneath the blankets caught the light of the candle still burning in the room. He moved the contents of the trunk around carefully and pulled it out, dusting the top of it off with his hands.
It was small, bronze, its edges worn to a muted black, with raised decorative script and decals all over. The bottom of the tin read Christmas 1914. Two large M’s on either side of a female figurehead sat in the center. He liked to think the M stood for Moore, one for each of them.
Stack took a deep breath then opened the tin. A small oval locket sat inside, right on top of a few crumpled papers, its delicate chain wrapped around the golden pendant like a spiral. His thumb brushed the top before he opened it.
He’d seen the picture a million times but his breath got stuck in his throat every time he laid his eyes on it.
“Mama,” he whispered. It wasn’t the word that hit deep but the intention behind it. He called Miss Cecily—Mary’s mama—“mama” plenty of times to the point that it was almost second nature to him after twenty-some odd-years. But here, looking at the black-and-white photo of the women who lended him his first breath, the word slipping from his lips felt different. Like a spell or an invocation. Like if he said it soft enough she’d appear out of thin air as alive as the eyes staring back at him felt.
She looked happy and her radiance shined through the picture. Stack couldn’t help but grin. She was beautiful. The thing he liked the most about the picture was that she felt alive. He could almost feel her gaze on him through the picture. He had her nose and her smile that spread across her face like a sunrise and lit up her big, round eyes.
He thumbed the lock of her hair that sat to the side of the locket. It was soft, a beautiful texture of kinks and coils that looked dark, like a midnight blue-black, braided into a thick plait.
Stack’s jaw worked.
He’d heard stories from people who knew her. What she was like, how she couldn’t wait to meet her children. Miss Cecily’s whole face would light up when she told stories about their friendship and time together. It made him ache for her. And the contents of the tin were the only thing he and Smoke had.
What did she smell like? What did her hugs feel like? What did her voice sound like?
Would she be proud of them?
It made him wonder about their daddy too. What was he like before the blood and the death and the liquor that hollowed him out?
He pulled out one of the papers decorated with his mother’s writing.
E.M.
Emmaline Moore.
Her initials were written in cursive on top of the folded squares.
He didn’t unfold them. He couldn’t.
Since Miss Cecily handed over the bundle of their mother’s poems, neither he nor Smoke dared to actually read them. They sat in that tin as a testament to her life but something too sacred to actually unfold.
Stack shook his head. He sniffled once, grunting to clear the tears that threatened his throat. He tucked the locket and poem back into the tin and put it back into the trunk underneath the army blankets. He closed the top of the trunk that felt like a door to the past where the memories felt too alive and stung like the back of his father’s hand.
“Fuck,” he sighed, running a hand down his jaw. He stood up and swiftly walked to the kitchen to fill a tin mug with two fingers of moonshine.
He and his brother had business to attend. Real business. With Clay down here and Duke in Memphis and niggas up North. Talks of carving a life elsewhere clouded his restless thoughts. It wouldn’t be the first time, but their first time didn’t last that long.
Harlem.
The war.
They could have stayed. Started over. But they came right back to the blistering heat and familiar hunger of the Mississippi Delta. To the ghosts that lived under the floorboards and the very faint scent of lavender that lived inside that bronze holiday tin.
Clarksdale was the devil they knew.
Taking a chug of moonshine, he let the sting settle in his chest. It helped distract his mind…for now.
Stack was already in his room when the front door swung open and Smoke walked in. His footsteps, heavy and grounding, cut through the darkness that sat over the front room like a veil. He dropped his keys by the door, hung up his jacket, and silently walked the few paces to his bedroom.
His door shut behind him with a soft click. He knew he needed to wash up before bed but he didn’t want to. The scent of Annie still clung to his skin and he wasn’t ready to get rid of it yet.
But he went anyway.
He left his room, trudging to the wash basin outside of their house. It was hidden inside a shed in their backyard near their outhouse; the small space smelled like quicklime, damp soil, and lye soap.
The water was cold but it was refreshing as he reflected on the night he spent with Annie.
He was starting to feel something for her.
And although he couldn’t name it yet, he couldn’t deny it. Couldn’t deny the ache he felt when he was away from her either.
Smoke stripped down, the cool air calming the fire in his blood.
The soapy rag went across his broad shoulders, down the span of his chest and groin, water dripping down his length that was already starting to react to the thought of her.
When she rolled her hips, grinding herself back on him...
She only did it once, but what it made him feel—
Like a fiend needing a fix. He wanted more.
He groaned, the sound swallowed by the night around him.
That damn woman.
All soft-tempered and honey-tongued. Her sweetness made his teeth ache. The worst part was she didn’t even know how much those big eyes and pouty lips made him weak for her. Her curious little gestures being so innocent in intent drove him crazy.
He’d never tell her either.
Once he was done, he dumped the water and carried in a bucket of fresh water from the creek for the morning. Then he made his way back into the house.
The pathway was dark. Pitch black. But Smoke knew the shape of it by heart. He secured the back door and checked the front and the windows without a light to guide him before settling into his bedroom and securing the latch.
None of that settled his earlier thoughts. Smoke laid back in his bed, one hand resting behind his head. His manhood was still half-hard. He ran the other hand over his chest, his fingertips brushing over the coarse patch of hair scattered there. He didn’t touch it yet. His palm hovered over his crotch so he could feel it twitch under the covers.
“Damn,” he whispered.
He gave in. To the heat, the thoughts, the wanting. He slipped his hand underneath his drawers and let his restraint lay at his bedside, forgotten just for a moment.
He grabbed hold of it, stroking the shaft lazily as it came to life in his palm. His fingers twisted underneath his sensitive head while his other hand came down to squeeze his balls. His breath hitched. He was already slick with want before he’d truly begun.
He closed his eyes and thought about Annie lying in front of him on the couch earlier. His arms had been wrapped tightly around her. Her backside that fit in his lap like a puzzle piece. His head buried in the crook of her neck, so close he could feel her pulse fluttering nervously against his lips.
“Damn, Annie,” he choked out behind gritted teeth. “Fuck,” he hissed as his legs started to twitch.
It didn’t take long. He gasped as his release shot out in thick, hot ropes across his chiseled stomach. He tried to catch his breath, smothering his panting in the crook of his arm.
Once his breathing slowed he cleaned himself up, making the decision to sleep naked regardless of the cool draft that crept through the cracks of the house.
As he drifted off he thought about Annie. Her touch, her skin, her warmth.
He couldn’t wait to see her again.
But until then he’d settle for a dream.
Saturday, December 13, 1919 - The Harvest Party
The gentle drone of hooded dryers softened the laughter and low conversations flowing through the salon, where secrets and sisterhood were shared in equal measure.
Women occupied nearly every chair and the narrow spaces between them at Ritzy’s on Issaquena, passing combs, hairpins, bottles, and gossip over one another’s heads. Some waited with capes draped around their shoulders while others sat with heads tilted back over washbasins. Hot combs rested over blue flames near the stove, their metal teeth heating to a glow. The smell singed the air, mingling with pomade, perfume, and the sharp sweetness of corn liquor being passed around discreetly.
Nellie and Gigi traded casual conversation between each other.
Verity sat on the waiting bench near the window fanning herself with a folded newspaper. Her friend sat quietly next to her.
“Girl, you gon’ burn every strand off that poor girl’s head foolin’ with that hooch,” Verity said as she watched a hairdresser take a healthy swig from a flask before picking up a hot comb.
“I ain’t had but two swallows,” she replied. “Plus she got enough hair for three women...don’t you girl?”
The girl in her chair smiled sheepishly.
Annie walked in the salon, shutting the door quickly before the crisp winter air could sneak in behind her. She loosened her coat as warmth settled over her skin.
“Finally!” Nellie called out.
“There she go,” Gigi greeted. “Heyyy Louisiana!”
She sat near the front window with her hair pressed into glossy waves, silver clips fastened neatly along her temples. Nellie sat in the chair next to her, a towel wrapped around her shoulders while another hairdresser parted and oiled her scalp.
Annie raised an eyebrow as she hung her coat up on the rack. “I ain’t late.”
“You ain’t early neither,” Nellie replied.
“Leave her be,” Gigi waved a hand. “You know she got a lot on her mind.”
Nellie hummed knowingly.
Annie walked to the waiting bench and took a seat next to Verity and her friend after greeting them both before turning toward Nellie and Gigi.
“And what you mean by that?”
Gigi’s mouth spread into a sly grin. “Girl, you know what I mean.”
“I surely do not.”
“Mhmm.”
Annie looked across the salon, searching for a familiar face before she could stop herself.
“She really ain’t coming, huh?” Annie said to herself. Her eyes widened. She didn’t mean to say that out loud and she definitely didn’t mean for Gigi or Nellie to hear it.
Too late.
Nellie was already sucking her teeth dramatically.
“‘Course she ain’t. You already know how her husband be. Lock and key.”
Verity clicked her tongue, a quiet-ish warning aimed at her sister, but Nellie ignored her and rolled her eyes.
It was a reflex to expect to see Pearline across the room, so the absence felt strange. There was no familiar voice joining Gigi’s laughter, no careful smile, no nervous glance toward the door like her husband might appear out of thin air.
One of the hairdressers gestured for Annie to come sit in her chair. She crossed the room and lowered herself in front of the mirror, untying the scarf from around her head while the hairdresser began undoing the straight backs beneath it.
Annie relaxed as the woman’s fingers moved through her hair. Conversation layered over conversation around her. Food, weather, liquor, clothes, shoes—all smalltalk at first. Then the topic of men came up. Which men would come alone, which men would come at all. Who they’d show up with…or without.
Annie casually glanced over at Gigi who was taking a gulp of something in a small brown bottle.
“Here,” she held it out to her. “For your nerves.”
Annie looked at the bottle. “I ain’t nervous,” she mumbled.
Gigi tilted her head. “Then why your knee bouncin’?”
Annie looked down. Her right leg moved steadily beneath the cape tied around her neck. She stopped it instantly.
“See?” Gigi laughed. “Here.” She encouraged her again to take the bottle.
Annie waved her off. “Uh-uh, I’m just ready for tonight.”
“More for me,” Gigi shrugged, taking another swig.
“Ready for the party,” Nellie asked, “or ready for Smoke?”
Annie felt warmth rise from her chest to her cheeks.
Her hairdresser met her gaze through the mirror. “Keep your head still, girl.”
“Sorry.”
Her hairdresser just grinned.
“Well?” Nellie probed.
Annie sighed. “I’m ready for the party.”
“Mhmm.”
Annie sucked her teeth. “Y’all actin’ like he never seen me befo’.”
“Not like he gon’ see you tonight,” Nellie shot back.
Annie pressed her lips together to keep from smiling.
“This the first time everybody gon’ see y’all together since you agreed to let him court you proper.”
“So?” Annie questioned, almost bashfully. “That don’t mean nothin’.”
“Girl please,” Nellie said, almost brazingly so. “It means everything.”
“I guess.”
“Mhmm,” Gigi agreed. “And tonight you gon’ see it for yourself. Everybody gon’ be lookin’ at the woman who got Smoke Moore to call on her proper.”
“I hope he ain’t got a weak heart,” Verity remarked, proud, from across the room. Her friend’s lips pulled tight, her fingers tensing on the hem of her blouse.
“Okay?” Nellie chimed in. “‘Cuz from what Pea said about your dress, it ain’t for the faint of heart.”
Annie chuckled to herself, her cheeks warming.
Her hairdresser removed a hot comb from the flame. She tested it against a square of paper towel and watched a faint brown line appear before crossing back over to Annie.
“Hold still.”
Annie sat up straight, hands gripping the arms of the chair as the metal comb passed close to her scalp, the hot fumes pressing sharply against the delicate skin there.
“Whew!”
She exhaled as the comb moved further down her strands, smoothing them as the teeth raked through her thick hair. It was a nice, albeit fleeting distraction from the conversations that went on around her, but Gigi’s words replayed in her mind.
Smoke had walked beside her before. He’d been seen with her all around town and walked close enough for people to whisper. But tonight would be different.
Annie would go to the party with her friends and Smoke would show up…whenever he decided to show up.
That meant she’d be waiting on him. Which left her with nothing but time. Time to be anxious. Time to wonder when he’d finally get there. Time to feel the room shift when he did. The thought made something flutter beneath her ribs.
Would he find her immediately, his eyes dark and unreadable beneath the brim of his hat watching her from across the room?
Would he come straight to her, or would he make her wait while he greeted everyone else?
And more importantly, what would she do when he was standing in front of her?
Stand quietly and let him take her hand?
Smile like he hadn’t been occupying her thoughts all day?
Annie’s knee began bouncing again.
Her hairdresser paused, hot comb inches from her scalp. “Annie-girl.”
Annie immediately stilled her leg. “Sorry—I’m sorry.” She bit her lip.
“Told you,” Gigi smirked. “Nerves.”
Annie just sat quiet looking at herself in the mirror. Half her hair had been smoothed and shaped while the other half remained thick, free and wild around her face. She looked like she was caught between two versions of herself.
The version of herself who first arrived in Clarksdale and the one staring back at her in the mirror.
Before, people looked at her because she was new. But now…now they’d be watching her because she got chose.
And not just by anyone.
By one-half of a pair of twins so infamous, the town—no, the county—called them the SmokeStack twins.
Smoke was a man who wore silence like clothing. A man whose hand covered hers when she touched his heart. A man who looked at her like she was the only person in the room.
They’d see him walk towards her. They’d watch how close he stood, where he put his hands, whether his expression softened when she spoke. Every dance would be evidence. Every glance would be collected and carried home as gossip.
And they’d watch Annie too. To see whether she welcomed his attention. Whether she leaned into him. Whether she acted differently now that Elijah Moore had chosen to court her.
The flutter beneath her ribs increased almost violently.
Maybe she wasn’t nervous about being seen with him.
Maybe she was just nervous about how much she wanted to be.
“You smilin’,” Gigi’s voice went sideways, pulling her out of her thoughts.
“Am not.”
“Are too.”
“She been smilin’ since you said Smoke’s name,” Nellie said with a grin.
“Y’all worry too much about what I’m doin’.”
Annie held her hand out for the bottle, which Gigi happily obliged. She uncapped it, sniffing it before taking a small swallow. She grimaced as the liquor burned across her tongue. “Lord, I do not know how y’all drink this stuff straight.”
“‘Course we do,” Nellie blurted incredulously with bugged out eyes, “we’re your friends!”
The three women laughed.
Annie glanced around at the crowded salon. The shop bell rang constantly—if one woman was stepping out, another was stepping in. Face powder dusted the countertops, stockings draped over chair backs, purses lay open, revealing lipstick and tiny bottles of perfume. Gigi was laughing so hard she had to hold her stomach. Nellie bickered with her hairdresser about which direction she wanted her curls turned. Even the salon owner, Lottie Mae, wasn’t above taking a discreet sip from the mysterious brown bottle making its rounds.
When she first arrived all those months ago she imagined finding something like this—a community of women who teased her, made room for her, watched her, and cared enough to ask her if she was nervous.
Pearline’s absence was still noticeable, a quiet ache beneath all the noise.
But even more noticeable was Annie’s place among them. And sitting in this salon chair, laughter, heat and chaos all around her, she felt perfectly held.
Smoke leaned back in a barber’s chair, striped plastic cape draped across his shoulders and a hot towel sitting over his beard. A slew of grooming tools plus a shaving mug and brush sat on a small metal table off to the side of his chair.
Brown’s Barbershop was lively, low conversations carried over the sound of soft music drifting from the corner. The smell of hair tonic, aftershave, and a hint of cigar smoke clung stubbornly to tobacco-stained plaster walls.
“How much we takin’ off today, Smoke?” Roy, the barber, asked as he removed the towel from Smoke’s face.
Smoke looked at his beard in the mirror. “Just trim the sides a little,” he replied, “and clean up the edges.”
“Gotchu,” Roy said with a nod.
“He could stand to lose a few inches from the top too.” A voice rose over the hum of the shop, commanding with a teasing edge. “And use some of that pomade in there too so he don’t look like a field nigga on a hot day.”
Smoke rolled his eyes. “Ignore him.”
Roy just chuckled, shook his head and picked up his shears.
Stack sat in the open backroom of the shop slapping cards down on a table, eyes full of mirth. Judging by the annoyed groans and curses coming from his opponents at the table, he’d just played somebody out of their money. He gathered his winnings and pushed up from his seat, the legs of the chair scraping against the wooden floors. The mirrors on the wall watched him stalk towards Smoke’s chair by the window.
“Big brotha gotta look extra nice tonight,” Stack said teasingly. “Ain’t that right?”
Roy grunted as he trimmed the sides of Smoke’s beard. “Oh yeah? Why is that?”
Smoke ground his teeth. “Stack.”
Stack tilted his head. “Smoke.”
“We goin’ to that party tonight over at Messenger’s,” he said to Roy.
“I ain’t think y’all went to those,” Roy muttered in concentration.
“We don’t,” he shrugged,“we makin’ an exception this year.” He smirked, his smile spreading slowly as he stared at Smoke in the mirror. Smoke glared back, his own expression void of warmth.
“The only thing y’all make exceptions for are dollars.”
That pulled a low chuckle out of Smoke.
“And beautiful women,” Stack added.
Roy waited for Stack to explain because beautiful women were nothing the twins were ever short on. And never, as long as he’d known them, were they ever a reason for them to go to a party at a juke. He looked up from his tools, eyes darting between Smoke’s unreadable face and Stack’s daring gaze staring back at his twin.
“Oh…he ain’t tell you?” Stack said, low enough so his voice only reached the three of them.
Roy blinked, eyebrows raised.
“Smoke got a special lady he goin’ to see tonight,” he said, holding his suspenders with his thumbs, bouncing lightly on the balls of his feet.
Roy started trimming the top of Smoke’s hair now. “This somebody gotta name?”
“Annie,” Smoke finally spoke.
“Annie,” Roy echoed as he circled the chair to get another angle. “And she special, huh? How special?”
“She’s my woman,” Smoke said with finality. “And I’m only goin’ ‘cause she gon’ be there.”
“Can’t say I know that name,” Roy voiced, “but if she got you comin’ out the house more, I like her already.”
Smoke chuckled low.
“Me too,” Stack started, his eyes darting around. “Yeah, she real nice. Beautiful. Tall. Voice real soft…like a blanket. Like somethin’ that makes you wanna—-”
“Stack,” Smoke hissed.
Stack just grinned wider.
Roy shook his head and twenty minutes later, both Smoke and Stack were leaving the barbershop smelling of hair tonic and Hoyt’s just as the sun was starting to retreat behind the buildings.
They walked past the cobbler, past the tailor shop, past the flower girl posted at the corner, her knitted white shawl barely shielding her thin frame from the bitter air, and hopped into their Dodge Brothers Model 30 parked just outside the general store.
Smoke started the engine as Stack spread out casually in the front seat.
“Couple niggas in there turned they heads.”
“Who?”
“One nigga damn near choked on his drink.” Stack laughed to himself.
“Who else?”
“Few niggas from Maybell. One of them friends with Terry. You know he used to stay over at Della’s?”
Smoke shook his head. “Vultures.”
Stack barked out a laugh. “Relax big bro, you knew this was gon’ happen.” He looked out the window as town buildings turned into flat countryside. “You know these niggas sniff out innocence like a sacrificial lamb. Shit.”
“Stack…,” Smoke said, his voice held an edge to it that made Stack’s parted lips snap shut. Something possessive in Smoke sparked hot, much hotter than it did in the barbershop where he knew Stack’s words were bait. “Watch your mouth.”
Stack held both hands up in defense. “You right, my bad.” He looked over at his brother. “My fault.”
“You good,” his jaw worked, “just don’t be gettin’ carried away talkin’ ‘bout what’s mine.”
Stack smoothly changed the subject to something lighter and less personal—clothing. That was his lane. Clothes, shoes, hair, hats—you name it, he knew where to get it, and he was good at it too.
Smoke liked his clothes to fit looser, more relaxed. Stack had taken it upon himself to pick out his outfit for tonight and something in him didn’t feel like fighting him on it.
A cream long-sleeved collared shirt, a pair of charcoal-colored trousers with a clean crease down the front, and a bow tie were hanging up for Smoke when he got back from his bath.
“I ain’t wearin’ no bow tie, nigga,” he said, voice flat.
Stack stopped what he was doing and turned slowly. “You can’t not wear a bowtie.”
“I ain’t wearin’ no fuckin’ bow tie.”
Stack just shook his head and pulled a pair of suspenders with black leather tabs from his wardrobe. He tossed them to Smoke who caught them with one hand.
“Thought you wanted to look sharp.”
“I ain’t say all that.”
“You ain’t have to.”
He stepped into the trousers and suspenders first before shrugging on the shirt, the collar concealing the aluminum dog tags hanging around his neck. He fastened a dark-colored waistcoat over the shirt and stepped into a pair of polished black leather boots before sticking a pistol in the back of his trousers’ waistband. A black knee-length wool overcoat completed the look.
He kept his accessories simple, his Elgin watch with a steel case and a brown leather wrist strap, a pair of leather gloves that he put in the pocket of his overcoat, and nothing more but the clean line of his clothes and the smell of his cologne.
Stack looked him over as he set the iron on the stove for his own clothes. High-waisted trousers in a rich, warm tobacco brown with a matching waistcoat. Light collared shirt with a burgundy tie, gold tie and double-ridged collar bars. Cap-toe oxford shoes and a burgundy fedora with a narrow black grosgrain.
“You still need a bow tie.”
Smoke sucked his teeth, pulling at his collar.
“A bow tie…a tie…somethin’....your neck look too empty.”
“Man…”
“Trust me…you gon’ thank me later,” he said with a knowing grin. “I know you tryna impress her.”
Maybe his brother was right. He wanted to impress her. Wanted to see her big, brown eyes grow even wider when she saw him across the room.
He didn’t know if he was ready to see her in a short dress that showed any kind of thigh. He just might lose it if somebody stared at her too long. But he wasn’t about to sit at home while it happened. So he’d let Stack dress him. As long as Annie’s face lit up….shit.
He was doing it again; his thoughts just drifting off to her like they’d been doing more often lately.
As long as her face lit up, he’d swallow his pride tonight.
Aunt Della’s boarding house was thrumming with life as usual, lodgers spread throughout the first level. But tonight it held the life of a particular young woman who felt like she stood at the threshold of something bigger than herself.
The women sat around Annie’s room laughing, gossiping, and trying not to mess up their new hairdos. Annie kept one leg tucked under her while Gigi sat cross-legged on the floor and Nellie sat next to Annie on the bed with her back on the wall.
Golden hour poured into the room through the lace curtains like honey over toast, slow and warm.
Della stepped into her doorway and couldn’t help but grin at the scene in front of her. Her eyes flicked from Nellie listening intently while Gigi narrated a story excitedly with her hands. Then her eyes moved to Annie and she saw the three generations that dwelled inside of her.
Annie had her mother’s eyes, big, brown pools of warmth that freckled in the sunlight.
Her grandmother’s grace. Like a river, smooth, solemn, calm.
She had the caul that covered her great-grandmother over her spirit like a veil.
And something else.
Her hand dropped to the pocket of her apron where a small pouch sat.
A few days ago…
Della sat tall in her front room chair and let the steady tick of the grandfather clock punctuate her thoughts while the house slept. She liked it that way. Running a boarding house rarely gave her room to sit alone with her thoughts. The only time she could spare was when the world was dreaming.
A thick wax candle burned low on the coffee table. The scent of her chewing clove filled the air along with the heady fragrance from her tea, its steam curling around the smoke from the candle like two ghosts doing a dance. Her knitting lay in her lap, half done, half discarded, fingers still holding the needle.
Annie had walked in a few hours ago, face so bright it looked like she swallowed the sun. But as the house quieted down, something tugged at her spirit.
It wasn’t a warning. Not exactly.
But the longer she sat there, the harder it pulled, like a physical tugging of her ribs. The slow, methodical drip of the yard pump felt like it was getting closer. The sound of the low crackle of embers from the woodstove seemed louder.
“Alright,” she said to herself. She pushed off the chair, left her knitting on the cushion, and blew candles out one-by-one as she walked through the house. The smoke curled around her like spirits guiding her forward.
The underground chamber was so quiet, it felt like the room was holding its breath. That wasn’t unusual. But the silence was disturbed by the constant drip of water from one particular spot in the ceiling. Della huffed under her breath and slid a bucket underneath it. She passed the heavy oak door with two padlocks and stood in front of the door to a smaller room, more narrow on the inside, darker. No locks on the door.
She gathered what she needed. A tiny cloth bag. Horseshoe nail. Lodestone. Strands of hair. Then incense smoke clouded the small room. She tied the bag with a miller’s knot then closed her eyes and set her intentions. The whiskey touched the pouch three times. Just enough to feed it, not enough to flood it.
“Soil of my soil. Bone of my bone. Blood of my blood. I bless you…Asé.”
“You okay, auntie?” Annie asked, looking towards the doorway.
Aunt Della blinked once and smiled warmly. She palmed the mojo bag in her apron pocket. “Just thinkin’ about how much you look like your mama.”
Annie fiddled with the edge of her robe.
“Y’all want some drinks?”
Gigi hopped up. “Yes, please!” She hustled to the doorway. “I can help!”
Aunt Della shook her head and they walked out the door towards the staircase. Their voices faded as they walked downstairs. Nellie hugged her knees and tilted her head towards Annie.
“You excited?”
“Nervous,” Annie chuckled.
“Nervous? Fo’ what?”
Annie hummed. “I dunno, I just…got butterflies.”
“Mhmm,” Nellie said sarcastically. “You nervous about bein’ in a dark room with a lil’ liquor in your system and that man.”
Annie giggled.
“All that temptation,” she teased.
Annie thought about sweat and perfume and sweet whiskey and blues weaving through the juke slowly, wrapping around bodies and curling into every corner like smoke puffing out a locomotive stack. She felt a tingle run up her skin just thinking about it. Nellie looked at her with a knowing smirk and Annie rolled her eyes.
“Well let’s get you dressed, girl.”
Luella padded up the steps of the boarding house with her assistant who carefully held a dark green garment bag in her hands. A canvas drawstring bag with Annie’s shoes, accessories, and some finishing pins hung off Luella’s shoulder. They walked right in, the front door already cracked open by the lodgers that crowded the front room and spilled onto the porch partaking in their Saturday shenanigans. The whole house smelled like moonshine, sweet perfume, and anticipation.
Della appeared from the kitchen with Gigi behind her holding a tray of drinks. A fizzy, deep violet colored potion with swirls of ruby red in the liquid. She greeted Luella and her assistant warmly.
“I knew you’d be right on time.”
“I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
“And I can’t wait to see it. Ladies, follow me.”
The four women walked up the stairs slowly, mindful of the delicate things they held in their hands. Annie was fastening the clasp on the back of Nellie’s dress when they all walked in. They all gasped at the sight of her pretty onyx colored dress with hints of silver that made it look like moonlight reflecting off water.
“Don’t she look good?” Annie said.
Nellie spun around. “Y’all like it?”
“You look good, girl,” Gigi said. “Let me see it from the side.”
Nellie obliged, posing to the side.
“Yessss, okay body. Okay, hips.”
Nellie snapped and pursed her lips playfully. “Yes ma’am.”
“Come on,” Aunt Della said. “Y’all can get dressed properly in my room.”
Aunt Della’s room was larger than the average lodger room. The windows were wide, sunlight filtering through yellowed lace curtains that made the light look embroidered. The smell of laundry starch, Florida water, and pine lived deep in the walls. Underneath it all, the scent of pipe smoke and cedar—her late husband’s familiar smell—still lingered like a ghost between the wood and fabric.
Gigi got dressed next. She disappeared behind the folding screen and came out in a teal number with golden beads stitched in patterns, the dress more flirty than seductive. It flowed around her frame, cinching gently at her waist and stopping a bit lower than mid-thigh. A simple necklace hung around her neck and a flower hair comb was tucked gracefully on the side of her chignon. The look was paired with beige t-strap heels laced delicately around her ankles.
The women drank a little and twirled around the room as they played with perfume and pearls and flung stockings at each other. Aunt Della even turned on her phonograph to set the mood with some music.
“Alright, Annie,” she said over the music, “It’s ‘bout that time.”
Annie stood and slipped behind the folding screen to undress.
She looked at herself in the mirror as Luella’s assistant unzipped the garment bag holding her dress. She stood in just her underwear. Her rich, dark skin was shiny from the oil she’d put on, making it look lush and inviting like a softness that whispered warmth.
She stepped into her tights first.
The tight fabric smoothed over her legs like silk.
Luella’s assistant helped her position and attach the bra which pushed her breasts up to the heavens, making them look like bountiful, chocolate mounds. They were naturally perky, so she didn’t notice that much of a difference in how high they sat on her chest, but she admired how they looked pushed together forming a delicate slope.
Annie took a moment to apply drops of fragrant oil to her neck, behind her ears, across her wrists, and down the center of her cleavage. The intoxicating scent wafted up through her nostrils, making her feel transformed and a little more…daring.
Luella’s assistant helped her step into her dress with a carefulness that bordered on sacredness.
The dress skimmed over her thick thighs. Just imagining Smoke’s burning glance on them made anticipation hum beneath her skin. It hugged the curve of her hips and the lushness of her backside, curving over the softness of her stomach before settling perfectly on her shoulders.
The assistant zipped it up in the back and watched it tighten and mold perfectly to her body.
Annie looked at herself in the mirror, her gaze drifting over her generous curves. She smiled. Not just because of how she looked in the dress, but because of everything it represented. She had friends. A growing community. Money being saved for her shop. A budding relationship. Somewhere along the way, Clarksdale had stopped feeling like a place she was visiting and started feeling like home.
“Alright now,” Luella’s assistant said low with a wink. “I don’t even think you need a necklace. These girls gon’ steal the show.”
“I reckon you right,” Annie said with a chuckle.
Annie stepped out from behind the partition into a room of women absorbed in their own conversations. The liquor had loosened tongues, and the easy hum of voices filled the room. When she cleared her throat, heads turned towards her. Mouths fell open. A few soft gasps escaped before a hush swept through the room. The silence felt like a blanket, thick and warm and reverent— like a holy kind of quiet.
Annie was a vision. A wonder carved from a dream. A marvel in motion that held a quiet radiance like the sun rising slowly at dawn.
The neckline plunged deep and accentuated the fullness of her breasts, framing her bust in mesh fabric and silver beadwork in a scalloped pattern, and surrounding it with fan and feather appliques studded with rhinestones and beads.
The dark green velvet bodice had a straight drop-waisted silhouette, leading to a large butterfly motif centered just below her hips, that transformed into a short silver fringe that hit her mid-thigh and shimmered in the light, whispering against her thighs with every step.
Gigi rose slowly, eyes widening. “My word,” she gasped. “Pea said it was beautiful…but I ain’t think it’d be like this.”
Luella looked on with pride. Her assistant stood behind Annie making sure no last minute adjustments were needed.
“She don’t even need no pinnin’, Miss Luella,” she said.
“It’s perfect,” Luella replied.
“You look just darlin’, Annie,” Aunt Della remarked.
“And dangerous,” Nellie added. “A man could get lost in them curves and never find his way back home.”
The room laughed and Annie smiled along with them.
“Y’all really like it?” she asked, smoothing down the sides with her palms.
“Like it? I love it!”
The praise made Annie’s cheeks warm with embarrassment and nervous energy. The bedframe squeaked as she sat to buckle her shoes. Her footwork was simple, just some t-strap heels. Nothing too high. Functional enough to dance in.
The full-length mirror threw the setting sun back into the room in faded flashes. Dust and powder floated in the air and every time somebody moved. The light caught little particles of it like specks of gold that blinked when the sun touched them.
“Y’all…we better go before this liquor take hold of my good senses,” Gigi said, twirling with a half-finished drink in her hand.
“Who said you got any sense at all?” Nellie said, sipping her own drink.
Annie giggled. “Yeah, we better go y’all. I don’t wanna walk there in the dark.”
“But it gets dark out early.”
Annie looked at the pocket watch on Aunt Della’s bedside table. “But—”
“Relax. It’s only a few blocks Annie,” Aunt Della said. “Plus y’all gon’ get bored after ‘bout an hour or two.”
“I sure hope not,” Annie said quickly with a concerned face.
“There’s only so much dancin’ and drinkin’ you can do before your hair sweat out and your dress start clingin’ to you. You’ll be ready to peel off that dress.”
Annie crossed her arms. “Fine then,” she said, “somebody pour me another drink.”
When the sun descended a little lower, they decided to head out. The sky was deepening fast, sunset sweeping hurriedly across the horizon. Gigi, Nellie, and Annie gathered downstairs, outfits, shoes, accessories and coats fully on, fussing over last minute details.
Aunt Della adjusted the fur collar of Annie’s overcoat and looked at her with gentle eyes. She reached into her apron pocket and pulled the mojo bag out, dropping it into Annie’s coinpurse. It was a small black velvet pouch with a drawstring closure that hung off a thick braided cord that was doubled to make a wrist strap. It was meticulously adorned with small silver details that made it twinkle like a constellation.
“Keep this close,” she insisted. “I made it just for you.”
Annie nodded once. “Okay.”
Della took a final look at her then let her go. The women stepped outside one by one, greeted by hoots, hollers, and whistles from the lodgers occupying space on the front porch.
A sudden gust of wind rattled through the windchime and swept through the front door, strong enough to make Della grip her shawl tighter.
“Mind y’all curfew!” She yelled after them.
Annie turned back, giving her great-aunt a reassuring smile. “We will!”
They stepped down the porch and onto the street, their heels clicking down the sidewalk like the tempered beat of a metronome. The evening sky bloomed with shades of pink, red, and purple that bled across the horizon. Annie took a deep breath and linked arms with Nellie and Gigi as they made their way to Fourth Street.
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Sooo what y'all think is gonna happen at the party? Any predictions? 👀The next two chapters will be the actual party and the aftermath!🤭
Also y'all know I love putting actual details from the movie in this story. Smoke and Stack actually did keep a locket with a picture of their mother in their military trunk. 🥹
So, the plot thickens! The entire Mississippi "Law Enforcement" is compromised, corrupt, & criminal. Once we can get these trifling republicans out, the Dems need to have the feds take over Mississippi's police depts, bc the Feds in this administration are a joke!
Gym body - after have her twins Anne wants to get back in shape nd as a good husband Smoke is right there for her but with a whole lot of distractions
Heatwave - during a nationwide heatwave, the ac goes out in the company
The interview - up and coming sports journalist Annie has her biggest opportunity in her career, an interview with 2x Super Bowl champ Smoke, her ex
It’s official - smannies friend and family are confused when they come out saying they are together when everyone else thought they were already together
You don’t know my name - Annie nd smoke meet at the diner she works at (Alicia keys)
Let’s make music - lounge singer immediately gets on Smoke radar when he’s looking for new talent (1950/60’s)
Without you - while Annie is out of town for a conference , Smoke has to deal with a family function all by himself
Kissing Booth - the university is holding a little carnival nd. Annie’s sorority is in charge of the kissing booth
First word - everyone anticipating on what Annie/smokes baby first word will be (stack got a betting pool going for him being the first word)
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Shea Buttah Bakery Masterlist
story masterlist
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sounds // Central Park West - Coltrane
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warnings - none
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wc: ~2.6k
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Work had taken forever to end. On top of that, there was still one more thing standing between Annie and the good cracking her back so desperately needed. She huffed sitting in traffic on her way home. There was always somewhat of a backup but, today, it was bumper to bumper. Of course. She only had a couple hours before they were to all reconvene at her parents’ house. There was just enough time for her to get home and shower, put her hair up, and choose an outfit that fit the description, but was also appropriate enough for dinner with her folks.
Consequently, she was the last one to pull into her parents’ driveway. Elijah was never late to anything and Pearline was extremely food motivated. She’d shown up first.
“Sorry again, y’all. Traffic was a little heavier going my way today, for some reason. Let’s head inside.”
She’d already warned them that she was running a few minutes late, but wanted to apologize in person.
“You look cute. We forgive you.”
Elijah didn't usually let anyone speak for him, but today he had no qualms.
Her chocolate brown skirt was fitted where it needed to be and flared subtly from about mid-thigh down to her feet. That was the compromise. Her chunky heel sandals kept it off the ground while her matching crop top framed her breasts perfectly with a square neck that wouldn't wait. For her hair, she’d opted for a quick, fluffy puff at the top of her head. There was no need to go too fancy. It would all be ruined in just a little while.
“Aniola!”
“Mama, baba, hi!”
She hugged her mom first, then her dad.
"Oh, Annie, you look beautiful."
"Just stunning."
"Oh my gosh, y'all." Annie smiled up at her parents, so flustered by their graciousness. "Thank you."
“Come in, come in!” her mom beamed. And, as they filed in, each of them was greeted with a smile.
“Mom, dad, this is Pearline. We work on the same team together. And this is our boss, Elijah. Guys, these are my parents, Yinka and Afolabi.”
Pearline spoke first. “Thank you so much for having us.”
“Yes, thank you. It’s so nice to meet you both.”
“Oh, it's nice to meet y’all, too. Thank you for coming,” Yinka gushed. She absolutely loved having guests.
“I hope I’m not being rude, but I do have to leave a little early. I have a prior engagement. I’m not usually one to double book, but I’m also never one to turn down a home cooked meal.”
There was a chorus of light laughs as Folabi turned to Elijah.
“You're a busy man, we understand.”
Elijah nodded to him. “Thank you again.”
Yinka patted Elijah’s arm, walking off toward the kitchen. “Annie, help me set the table for our guests.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Pearline looked over at Elijah. “We can help.”
“Yes.”
“Nonsense.” Yinka had dismissed them without so much as a look. Caught off guard, Pearline giggled. Elijah grinned. She had a certain familiarity that he delighted in. “Sit. Make yourself at home.”
“Yes, ma’am,” they said, almost in unison.
“Right this way, guys.” Folabi led them toward the family room. “Dinner will be ready in just a second.”
The table was indeed set for the five of them in no time. Annie had had a fire lit underneath her all day. Everyone washed up and took their seats. Folabi and Yinka at each end of the table, Elijah and Annie across from one another in front of her dad, and Pearline next to Elijah.
Pearline looked over the bountiful spread in awe. “All of this looks delicious.”
The center of the long table was covered with beautiful serving dishes, filled to the brim.
“Thank you,” Yinka said, with a smile. Then she looked over to her husband. “Honey, bless the food?”
The blessing was thorough, but a swift one. Folabi also had something to get to in the form of a soccer game coming on later.
“This is the same rice you have at work, right?” Pearline asked Annie.
“Yeah, that's it.”
“Oh, yes. This is jollof rice. Here we have chicken stew," Yinka stated, pointing out every dish, "fried plantain, egusi soup and fufu, and suya. The suya is spicy, just a warning. And the egusi has goat meat and ponmo, ah, cow skin.”
“Oh my god, Ma, I can’t wait.”
“Go ahead, all of you.”
Pearline started first, going for the jollof as silverware began to clink against dishes in heavy anticipation.
“Ma, is this zobo?” Annie was holding the handle of the chilled pitcher as she asked, bringing it toward her glass.
“Yes. There's hibiscus and pineapple, with some spices in there, some clove, cinnamon, and ginger. And, today, I added a little orange.”
“Mmmm, that sounds lovely.”
“Girl, it is. If you've ever had sorrel, it's like that.”
“My bar is also fully stocked, if anyone is interested,” Folabi offered, pointing out his setup over on the dining room wall.
"I may indulge. Just a little."
"Yes, sir. You can certainly pour yourself a glass of whatever's your preferred taste. I also have crafted ice."
Annie smiled subtly at the small interaction, beginning to eat after fixing her plate to her liking. She looked up and caught eyes with Pearline who was spooning chicken into hers, and her silly self did a shoulder shimmy. Annie laughed.
“Why are you so crazy?”
“I know, let me stop. I’m just excited. I’ve never actually had a full plate of this stuff before.” With that, she took a piece of fufu into her fingers, dipped it in the egusi and took her first bite. Her eyes closed as she chewed slowly, savoring the new, intense flavor. "Oh my god... this is incredible. Thank you so much for this, you have no idea."
Yinka was tickled pink. “I want you to take some with you today. We can pack it up before you leave.”
“Oh, no. I don’t want to be too much of a bother. This is more than enough.”
“Don’t worry. I made extra for you when Annie told me how much you enjoyed it. I made enough for all of you to take some.”
Pearline's brows furrowed as she grabbed her chest. “Really? That’s so sweet of you. Thank you so much.”
“I know y'all are busy people. So maybe you won’t have to cook for a few days.”
Annie laughed to herself. “Elijah doesn’t cook.” The instant silence made her realize that she had misspoken. With much reluctance, she looked up from her plate, her chest suddenly too heavy. All eyes were on her. “I mean, I’m just assuming, since, you know, you… probably have a lot going on. You don't have time to be—”
He nodded. “That would be an accurate assumption, yes.”
“Alright then, it’s settled. All of you will take something.”
Annie cleared her throat and went back to her food, deciding that eating instead of talking would probably be best for her.
Elijah did the same, taking a piece of suya from his plate. He’d been chewing the grilled steak for only a second when the heat smacked him head on. “Mm.” He cleared his throat and quickly reached for his drink. When he brought it down, his mouth was still open, pulling in cool air in hopes of more relief. He went right back for another sip.
“I thought you said you could handle spice.”
He gave Annie a thumbs up from behind his glass and everyone laughed. She tried to hold hers in, but watching him struggle directly across from her was just too much.
“I thought I could,” he said, coughing into his elbow. "Excuse me."
Folabi grabbed the pitcher and poured him more zobo. “Here, drink. Yinka, you trying to kill the boy.”
Laughter erupted again, filling the room. Even Elijah joined in.
“It’s so good, though. I promise.” He was sniffling as he spoke, which made Pearline laugh a little more. All she could think about was this being payback for all the stress he'd caused her earlier. And she had a front row seat.
“Are you ok? Do you need water?” Yinka asked.
“No, ma'am, I’m fine. Thank you. It's much better now.”
“Ok, good.”
Over the course of the rich, savory meal, Pearline kept making discreet eye contact across the table at Annie, who knew exactly what was being communicated. She had to, once more, fight to hold her laughs. Pearline was extremely shocked at how personable Elijah was being. At this point, he had smiled and laughed more than once. At work, if he wasn't speaking at a meeting or directly to someone, he was somewhere off to himself. But today, he was a social butterfly by his standards. Annie knew her parents could make anyone talk. There was no being quiet around them, so she wasn't surprised at all. Pearline’s eyes, however, had almost bugged out of her head a few different times.
“So, Elijah, I saw online that your company'll be going public soon. Congratulations.”
“Yes, sir. Thank you. We’re looking to expand into some new markets and I’m excited to work with our future shareholders to make that happen.”
"It's very exciting," Annie added, glancing up at Elijah. "The company has grown exponentially in the short five years that I've been there. I'm quite proud. Of you, Elijah, and to be a part of something so monumental."
"I share in the sentiment. I haven't been involved as long as you two, but I'm super excited."
"Thanks, y'all. I'm proud to have people like you with me on this journey."
"That's really sweet, Elijah." Pearline grinned over at her boss, thinking he may have a soul after all.
"Yes, it is."
“Pearline, how long have you been there?”
“Almost three years.”
“That's great. You and Annie do the same thing?”
“Annie’s actually my boss.”
“Oh, is she being good to you?”
“Dad,” Annie laughed, Pearline laughing with her.
“Yes, sir. She’s amazing. Easily my favorite person in the building.” She looked over at Elijah eating beside her. “No offense.”
He grinned back. “None taken.”
Annie saw him licking egusi from his fingers and darted back to her plate. "Thank you, P. You might be my favorite, too. But don't tell anybody."
She'd whispered the last part, as if the whole room couldn't still hear. Elijah looked up at her and laughed, and it inevitably spread to the rest of the table.
Next came dessert. Yinka brought out a beautiful pound cake and a warmed kettle of milk tea. Folabi wasn't far behind, carrying a serving tray of tea cups, dessert plates, and forks.
“Mama! Ta lo ń gbìyànjú láti ṣe lóore sí? (Who are you trying to impress?) I haven't had this in so long.”
"Oh, stop it," she giggled, bashfully. "I'm not trying to impress anyone."
"I'm just teasing, Ma. Thank you so much for all you do."
"You know I don't mind, ife mi. (my love.)"
She kissed her mom's cheek when she sat next to her on the couch, as they had migrated over to the living room. The kiss was followed with a hug once Annie was able to get her arms around her sweet mother.
Pearline was first to fix her plate yet again. Annie just laughed, shaking her head at her always hungry friend.
“So, Annie," her dad spoke, as everyone served themselves slices of cake, "how are you? What’ve you been up to?”
“Just work mostly. Trying to decide on a new hobby.”
Her mom rubbed her arm. “We’re so glad you're here with us. Since we barely get to see you anymore.”
“We thought maybe you're seeing someone.”
“Yes. Are you?” She was once more the center of attention as Yinka beamed with excitement. But Annie's face was in flames.
“What?" she asked, with a nervous laugh. "Can we talk about this later?” She'd frowned before she knew it.
“Sure, but I think it's wonderful. It's about time, you know? I was beginning to worr—”
“Ma!”
“Ok, ok! I'm sorry.”
“Oh my god.” She put her face down into her hands, groaning in deep embarrassment. She couldn't believe her parents had chosen to bring up her love life in front of her coworkers of all people.
Pearline snickered into her cup of tea, clearing her throat to try and hide it. Of course Annie heard. She cut her eyes at Pearline, only for her to laugh harder. Elijah, on the other hand, just ate his cake, minding his business and choosing not to respond at all.
The rest of the evening went off without another hitch, thank goodness. The girls were able to get in a little chit chat while the fellas obsessed over soccer teams. Or football as they called it. Knowing they would all be leaving soon, Yinka snuck away to pack everyone's food.
“This has been an absolutely beautiful experience and I’m so grateful. Thank you.”
"Thank you, Pearline. You're welcome anytime. Both of you. We really enjoyed your company."
"We enjoyed y'all, too. Thank you so much. For everything," Elijah nodded, toward Yinka and then Folabi.
"No problem, honey."
"Are you sure you don't need us to help clean up? I hate to leave y'all with all that work."
"No, no." Folabi waved Pearline off as they all descended the steps of the front porch. "I do all of the cleaning. Don't worry."
"Yes, girl. This has been their thing since I was a kid. They don't let anyone break the arrangement."
"Oh, well let me not overstep."
"Of course the offer is appreciated."
"I had to."
Everyone said their goodbyes, Annie hugging her parents while her colleagues walked to their cars. She jogged over to Pearline next, pulling her into a hug just as she'd opened her front door. Then the three of them backed out of the driveway, she and Elijah leaving in opposite directions. She wanted to speed off so badly, but couldn't chance it with her folks standing right there. They would have a fit, and she would surely get a stern talking to for driving so recklessly. But once she was in the clear, she flew onto the freeway like a bat out of hell. She had a very important appointment to make, and being even one second late wasn't an option. She was especially worked up tonight.
When she arrived to her beau's estate, the gate opened for her the way it always did. His front door was unlocked the way it always was. She couldn't see him, but she knew his eyes had been on her the entire time. His last instruction had come just as she was parking.
You look good as fuck but start taking all that shit off soon as you hit the door
She'd smiled down at her phone as the typing bubbles popped up, waiting for his next message while her insides did Olympic level gymnastics.
Yall come and get into this chapter !! Loved Annie and Elijah keeping a low profile while also eating with the parents lol … also Wunmi birthday is tmrw whoop whoop !!
“You can say I’m trippin but I’m stingy and I can’t hide it… want to keep you all to me I’m selfish why try and fight it “ lol this song made me think of them in this pic
Summary: She wore a yellow dress. He opened the door. Eight years of silence finally comes to an end. Questions get answered. Truths come to light. Hearts are healed. And two people who never stopped loving each other finally get the chance to say everything they should’ve said eight years ago. 💛
Contains: Explicit Sexual Content, Rough and Sex, Possession, Claiming, Dirty Talk, Oral Sex, Deepthroating, Cunnilingus, Vaginal Sex, Creampie, Multiple Positions, Wall Sex, Doggy Style, Missionary, Cowgirl (talks of it), Hair Pulling, Marking, Biting, Size Kink, and Praise
WC: 12k+
Dividers By: @saradika-graphics and @deadnburied13
“Annie…”
Stack’s voice broke the quiet before Annie had even finished buckling her seatbelt.
She glanced up. “What?”
He pulled away from Aunt Cheryl’s curb, looked in the rearview mirror, then looked again.
“Whatchu got on, mane?”
Annie frowned. “What you mean?”
“I’m askin’ whatchu got on.”
She looked down at herself.
A pale yellow babydoll dress that brushed the middle of her thighs whenever she walked. Soft cotton. Loose enough that the Mississippi heat wouldn’t suffocate her before nine o’clock. White sandals. Her braids were pulled into a high ponytail, the ends brushing the tops of her shoulders every time she turned her head.
She looked back up. “Clothes?”
Stack snorted.
Annie frowned. “What?”
He pointed toward the rearview mirror. “Look.”
She glanced at herself. “I’m lookin’.”
“Exactly.”
Annie folded her arms. “It’s already damn near a hundred degrees outside.”
“It’s eight in the mornin’.”
“And?”
“And you know gotdamn well what you doin’.”
“I don’t.”
“C’mon, bruh. You put on the shortest dress you own to see my brother.”
“It’s not my shortest dress.”
“It ain’t church length.”
“It comes mid-thigh.”
“Exactly. Too fuckin’ short.”
She rolled her eyes. “It’s lightweight.”
“Mm-hmm.”
“It breathes.”
“Mmm-hmm.”
“I didn’t wanna be sweatin’.”
“Mmmmmm-hmm.”
She threw her hands up.
“Can you stop ‘mhmmin’ me?”
Pearline snorted.
Stack grinned.
“Can you stop lyin’ to me?”
She sighed. “You don’t believe me?”
Pearline was full-on laughing now.
Stack shook his head. “Hell nah.” He leaned back in his seat. “You tryna get fucked.”
Annie’s eyes widened. “What!?”
Pearline completely lost it.
Stack continued. “You tryna get Smoke to forget all the shit from yesterday.”
Annie looked back down at the yellow fabric gathered across her lap. Truthfully, she didn’t believe her damn self either. She’d stood in front of Aunt Cheryl’s guest room mirror for nearly twenty minutes that morning. Pulled out jeans. Put them back. Picked up another dress. Changed her mind. Finally reached for the yellow one because it made sense.
It was cool. Comfortable. Simple. At least, that’s what she’d told herself. The truth, however, settled somewhere much lower.
She wanted Elijah to look at her.
To see her.
Not because she expected anything to happen. She wasn’t trying to seduce him. She just… wanted him to think she looked beautiful. The thought sent a flutter through her stomach.
“Nigga, shut up. She’s just a girl.” Pearline said while batting her eyes at him. She twisted around in her seat with entirely too much interest looking Annie up and down. “Buuut, I mean.” She shrugged. “If something does happen…”
“Pea.”
“That wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world, would it?”
“Pea.”
“What?”
“Stop.”
“I’m just sayin’.”
“I ain’t.”
Pearline’s grin widened. Then, without warning, she started singing in that smooth, honey-rich voice of hers.
“I wanna siiiit on it…”
She barely made it through the first lyric before laughing so hard she couldn’t continue.
Annie buried her face in her hands.
“Line, please.”
Stack barked out a laugh. “Yeah, keep singin’ like that and you gon’ be sittin’ on somethin’, girl.”
Pearline slapped his shoulder. “You always got somethin’ to say.”
“Am I lyin’?”
Pearline sucked her teeth, but didn’t outright answer the question, instead— “You ain’t right.”
“I been hearin’ that my whole life.”
Their voices blended into another playful argument, bouncing back and forth while Annie turned towards the backseat window. The smile faded from her face. Yesterday replayed itself whether she wanted it to or not.
The disaster that was the cookout.
Running after Elijah.
His truck long gone before she reached the road.
Walking through Aunt Cheryl’s yard with tears streaming down her face while everybody quietly gave her space to fall apart.
The second she’d walked back inside, she’d looked straight at Stack. “Take me to his house.”
Nobody agreed. They’d all said the same thing.
Not tonight.
Everybody’s hurtin’.
Sleep on it.
But once everything quieted down, Stack reached over and rested a hand on her shoulder. He looked her square in the eye.
“If you still wanna go in the mornin’…” He gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze. “I’ll take you.”
So here they were.
Stack and Pearline were still going back and forth over something that she caught between pieces of laughter, but Annie’s attention had already drifted beyond the windshield.
The road narrowed as they left the highway behind, trading traffic for stretches of open fields and towering pines. Morning sunlight spilled across the countryside, catching the dew still clinging to tall grass and fence posts. Everything looked washed clean, quiet in a way cities never seemed capable of being.
Stack turned onto another road, this one gravel. The car bounced gently beneath them.
Pearline glanced over her shoulder. “We almost there.”
Annie nodded, though she wasn’t entirely sure whether the motion was for Pearline or herself. Her stomach had been fluttering since she’d gotten dressed. Now it felt heavier. The butterflies hadn’t disappeared. They’d simply sunk deeper.
She looked out the window again.
The gravel driveway stretched farther than she’d expected, winding between rows of mature oak trees whose branches reached over the road like they were welcoming visitors beneath them. Beyond the trees, she caught glimpses of open pasture, weathered fencing, and acres of land stretching farther than she could immediately take in.
Then the house came into view.
It wasn’t flashy, and wasn’t the biggest house she’d ever seen. It wasn’t trying to impress anybody.
It simply belonged there.
A wide front porch stretched across nearly the entire length of the house, spilling around one corner just enough to suggest somebody had wanted one more place to sit beneath the evening shade. Thick wooden posts rested on stone bases that matched the stonework running along the front of the house, giving everything a quiet sense of permanence. Black rocking chairs sat near one end beside a small wooden table worn smooth by years of use instead of decoration. Hanging ferns swayed lazily beneath the porch roof while neatly kept flower beds softened the edges with just enough color to feel cared for without ever looking fussy.
Above it all, a dark metal roof caught the morning sun, practical and understated.
Exactly the sort of roof Elijah would choose.
Her eyes traveled further across the property to a large detached workshop that sat off to the side.
Even from the backseat she could see stacks of lumber tucked neatly beneath the overhang, each pile squared so precisely it looked less like storage and more like the work of a man incapable of leaving a job halfway done. A tractor rested beside the building. So did a flatbed trailer and a work truck dusted with dried Mississippi clay. The wide garage doors stood open, revealing shelves lined with tools and workbenches arranged with the same quiet order she’d always associated with him.
Nothing about the property felt accidental. Everything had a purpose. A smile tugged gently at the corner of Annie’s mouth before she realized it was there.
Of course.
Of course this was what he’d built. Not a home meant to impress strangers. A home meant to be lived in. Something that could weather storms. A place people could come home to.
Somehow…
It looked exactly the way she would’ve imagined. Quiet. Steady. Solid. Built with his own hands.
Built to last.
Something quiet stirred inside of her.
For years she’d wondered what kind of life Elijah had built without her. Wondered where he slept. If another woman had helped him build it. Or whether she’d even recognize the man he’d become. Instead she found herself looking at a place that answered all of those questions before she’d even stepped out of the car.
She still knew him.
It wasn’t that he’d changed so little, he’d changed exactly the way she’d imagined he would. He’d built a life the same way he built everything else.
One careful piece at a time.
Stack slowed to a stop near the front of the house before shifting the car into park. The engine fell quiet.
Annie didn't move to get out of the car right away.
Pearline turned halfway around in her seat. “You want us to come up there with you?”
Annie’s eyes never left the porch. “No.”
“You sure?”
She swallowed. “No.”
Stack studied her through the rearview mirror for a long moment before nodding once. “You got this.”
Annie nodded. She reached for the door handle. Then stopped. Her hand rested there for a beat while she gathered what little courage she had left.
Yesterday she tried to run away.
Today…
She was asking him to let her stay.
Taking one slow breath, Annie opened the door and stepped out into the warm Mississippi morning. The gravel crunched beneath her sandals as she made her way toward the house. Every step felt louder than it should have, the quiet of the property wrapping around her until all she could hear was the distant hum of cicadas and the steady thud of her own heartbeat.
The stillness she’d admired from the car suddenly felt enormous. She climbed the porch steps, smoothed trembling hands down the front of her dress, then raised one hand and knocked.
The door opened.
Elijah stood there barefoot, wearing nothing but gray sweatpants that hung low on his hips. His hair looked like he’d run his hands through it more than once after waking up.
Annie forgot how to breathe for a second.
She’d known he was built. Seeing him at Stack’s had made that impossible to miss and the cookout had only confirmed it. But those had been glimpses. This was the first time she’d seen him like this in years. Morning light stretched across his shoulders and chest, catching the definition carved into him in a way she’d never been prepared for. Her gaze dropped lower before she could stop it, lingering for the briefest heartbeat at the print in his pants. From what she could see, he was thick, long, and it curv—
Girl.
Annie, please.
Heat rushed into her cheeks. She dragged her eyes back up, silently scolding herself for staring. That’s when she noticed the fresh white gauze wrapped across his knuckles.
Annie’s breath caught.
There hadn’t been a bandage yesterday.
Yesterday there had only been the sickening sound of Elijah’s fist connecting with Isoo’s face. The shouting that followed. Aunt Cheryl screaming his name. Blood streaked across his knuckles as he stood in the middle of the yard, breathing so hard she almost didn’t recognize him for a moment. Guilt twisted low in her stomach. She hated that he was hurt. Hated even more that she’d been the reason.
Neither of them moved or spoke.
Annie couldn’t explain what looked different about him at first. He was still Elijah. Still broad shouldered. Still standing there with that quiet way of looking at people that always made her feel like he noticed more than he let on. Then she realized it wasn’t his appearance at all. It was whatever had happened after he’d driven away from Aunt Cheryl’s house.
Something had reached him.
The tightness she’d grown so used to seeing around his eyes was gone. The anger he’d been carrying no longer seemed to sit just beneath the surface, waiting for the smallest excuse to rise again. In its place was something quieter. He looked tired. Honest. Like he’d finally stopped fighting something that had exhausted him for far too long.
He listened to it.
His fingers flexed once at his side, almost imperceptibly, as though he were resisting the urge to reach for her. His eyes never left hers. Not once.
Her rehearsed speech disappeared. Every carefully chosen sentence she’d repeated to herself during the drive over dissolved the second she looked into his eyes.
She swallowed.
“Hi.”
The word came out softer than she’d intended.
She drew another breath.
“Elijah, I…”
He didn’t let her finish.
She came.
To him.
She didn’t wait for him to call or wait for him to come to her. She was here. Standing on his porch. Looking at him with the same uncertain hope she’d carried at the cookout.
Something inside him finally gave way. Smoke’s hand shot out, fingers curling around her wrist and pulled her inside. Annie barely had time to say anything else before he pulled her against him.
Hard.
After all these years of wondering if he’d ever hold her again, he needed to know she was real. She fit against him exactly the way she always had.
His eyes squeezed shut.
A shaky breath escaped him before he could stop it as he buried his face in the crook of her neck.
And there she was.
The same soft scent he’d spent years trying to remember whenever he closed his eyes. He’d forgotten the perfume she’d worn. Forgotten the shampoo she’d used.
But somehow…
Annie had always just smelled like Annie. Warm. Familiar.
Home.
His arms tightened around her, holding her so close she could probably feel his heartbeat hammering against his ribs.
“Elijah…” she breathed, her arms already winding around his bare back.
He only held her tighter.
Annie breathed him in without thinking. Soap. Laundry detergent. Something unmistakably Elijah that no amount of time had managed to erase.
She’d tried to remember it a hundred different nights. She wondered if she’d imagined it. She hadn’t. It was still there.
For a long while they stayed like that. Everything they’d spent years carrying seemed to settle somewhere between them in the quiet.
Annie pulled back just enough to look up at him.
“I had to see you because I—”
Again, he couldn’t let her finish. His hand slid gently along her jaw before settling at the back of her neck.
Then he kissed her.
It wasn’t careful. It wasn’t hesitant. It was the kiss of a man who had spent time convincing himself he didn’t need this, only to discover he’d been wrong every single day.
Annie answered him immediately. Her fingers curled into his shoulders as she kissed him back, both of them trying and failing to steady their breathing.
“Elijah, I—”
“Later,” he murmured against her lips.
She laughed softly through a shaky breath. “But—”
“Later.”
Before she could protest again, he kissed her once more.
This one started gently.
It didn’t stay that way.
The relief of finding her here, that she’d come to him instead of leaving again, swept through him with a force he could no longer contain. His hand found hers and laced their fingers together while the other settled at her waist, drawing her closer until there wasn’t an inch of space left between them.
Without breaking the kiss, Smoke eased her backward. Annie followed him without thinking, her hands sliding from his shoulders to the back of his neck as she gave him one slow backwards step after another. The door shut behind her with a muted click, and a second later her back met the front door with the softest thud. A quiet laugh warmed the kiss, small and breathless, as though she’d realized somewhere between the porch and the foyer, she wasn’t the only one who’d been imagining this moment.
The kiss deepened.
Years of missing her, of unanswered questions, and convincing himself he didn’t need her diminished the second she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him with the same certainty. When they finally broke apart just enough to breathe, Annie couldn’t stop smiling.
“Elijah…”
“Fuck.” His voice came out low and unsteady, the single word carrying more relief than frustration. He rested his forehead against hers, his eyes closing for a moment. “Not now, Annie.”
He opened his eyes again. His thumb traced slowly along her lips.
“Just… let me have this first.”
She smiled at him—small, uncertain, the same smile that had undone him all those years ago. He traced his thumb across her cheek as if committing her to memory. Then she leaned into his touch, and he kissed her again, slower than before.
But that restraint lasted all of five seconds.
Relief gave way to hunger.
Annie gasped when the kiss intensified. Smoke swallowed the sound, one hand fisting in the fabric at her waist, the other cupping the back of her neck to tilt her head exactly how he needed it. Years of pride and wanting poured into teeth and tongue.
She kissed him back just as fiercely, fingers clawing at his bare shoulders, nails biting into skin. When he finally let her breathe, words she couldn’t form gave way to moans as he shoved the straps of her dress down her arms and dragged his mouth down her throat, sucking hard. He’d imagined holding her like this so many times that the reality almost hurt.
He lifted her like she weighed nothing, her legs wrapping around his waist on instinct, dress riding up around her hips. He slammed her back against the door with a low, hungry growl, the hard line of him grinding against the soaked cotton of her panties like he was trying to fuck her through the fabric.
“I been fuckin’ dyin’ witout you,” he rasped against her throat, voice rough and wrecked.
His hands were everywhere at once— rough and possessive. One palmed her breast hard, squeezing, pinching her nipple until she cried out. The other gripped her ass, fingers digging in deep enough to bruise as he rolled his hips, dragging his manhood right over her clit again and again.
“I missed you,” he growled, teeth scraping her collarbone. “Missed this. I’ve missed how you sound when I touch you.”
Annie’s hands were frantic, sliding down his stomach, shoving at the waistband of his sweatpants until his thickness sprang free, flushed and leaking. She wrapped her fingers around him and stroked once, hard and confident, but then froze for half a second.
Her eyes widened. Damn… he’s bigger than I remembered.
Smoke noticed instantly. That familiar smirk tugged at his lips as he watched her reaction.
“Elijah—”
He didn’t wait. Couldn’t. He hooked his fingers in her panties and ripped them clean to the side, then lined up, and thrust into her in one long stroke that buried him deep in her guts.
Annie’s head thunked back against the door with a broken sob. “Ahhh fuck— Eli—!”
He didn’t give her time to adjust. He fucked her like the world was ending— hips snapping hard and fast, the wet slap of skin on skin echoing through the quiet house. Every powerful thrust punched a desperate sound out of her; broken moans, sharp gasps, his name like a prayer and a curse. Smoke chased every single one, angling his hips to grind against that spongy spot deep inside her that made her thighs quake around his waist.
“Still so tight,” he panted hotly against her ear, one hand sliding between their sweaty bodies to rub her swollen clit in tight, rough circles. “This pussy still know me.”
“Yesss!” she gasped, nails raking down his back hard. “Oh — fuuuck — yesss!”
He kissed her again, messy and desperate, swallowing her cries as he pounded into her harder. The door rattled violently behind her. The picture frame beside them crashed to the floor, glass shattering.
Neither of them cared.
He needed to undo her, and needed her to undo him right back.
Her walls gripped him like a vice, thighs locking tight as her whole body seized up. She wailed his name against his mouth, trembling uncontrollably. The feeling dragged Smoke right over the edge with her. He buried himself inside, hips stuttering as he flooded her with thick, hot pulses, groaning her name like a man finally coming home.
They stayed locked together, shaking, breathing ragged. For so long, every memory of her had ended with goodbye. This one didn’t. No more wondering where she’d gone. No replaying old memories until they blurred together. Just Annie, warm and real in his arms. He hadn’t realized how much of himself he’d left behind until he felt it return.
Smoke kissed her again; slowly, but no less desperate. His voice came out low and rough against her mouth, thick with hunger and love. “Look at me.”
She did.
“I wanna fuck you all day,” he muttered, hips giving a lazy roll that made her whimper. He was still buried deep, still hard and throbbing inside her. “I’m gon’ make you feel me for weeks. Make you cum until you can’t remember how to leave me again.”
Annie’s breath hitched hard.
“You gon’ let me have my way wit’ you?”
His words sent a fresh wave of heat rushing through her body, making her clench around him involuntarily. She was soaked, throbbing, and completely undone.
“Yes,” she breathed, her voice still trembling. “You don’t have to hold it in anymore. Give it to me.”
Her words lit a fire in his eyes. That was all the permission he needed.
He kissed her hard. His sweats caught around one ankle as he kicked them off, nearly stumbling in the process. Annie laughed against his mouth, and he only held her tighter as he carried her toward the living room.
The second they crossed into the living room, he pulled out of her with a wet sound that made Annie whimper at the loss. He spun her around and bent her over the arm of the couch, yanking her hips back so her ass was presented to him like an offering. Her dress was bunched uselessly around her waist, panties ripped to the side, his thick cum leaking down her thighs.
Look at her, Smoke thought. Dripping of me. Still mine.
He dropped to his knees behind her, spread her plump cheeks wide, and buried his face deep between them without hesitation. His tongue dragged slowly from her swollen nub all the way up to her creamy hole, tasting their mixed release.
Annie’s legs shook instantly.
“Mmm, you taste good, girl—” he groaned into her pussy, the vibration making her moan loud. He ate her like a man possessed — long, sloppy licks, tight sucks to her throbbing pearl, then tongue curling deep into her leaking center. He spread her wider, tongue reaching deeper, mouth covered with her juices running down his chin.
Annie was losing it. “Oh my God— Elijahhh! Right there, baby— don—don’t stop!”
And didn’t.
He added two thick fingers, curling them just right while his mouth focused on her engorged clit, sucking and flicking relentlessly. The wet, obscene sounds of him eating her filled the room. He groaned against her pussy the whole time, like he couldn’t get enough of the taste of them together.
Annie’s thighs started trembling harder. “I’m— I’m—!”
She came with a broken sob, squirting against his tongue and soaking his face. Smoke didn’t pull away. He kept licking and fingering her through it, drawing out every last shudder until she was whimpering and twitching.
Only then did he pull back, line himself up, and slam into her in one ruthless stroke.
Annie cried out, fingers clawing at the couch cushions as he set a punishing rhythm. The slaps of skin on skin filled the room — shameless, loud… perfect.
“Oh shiiit,” he growled, one hand smacking down on her ass hard, the other hand gripping her braids like reins. “Pussy gripping me like it missed me.”
“She did, baby” Annie moaned, pushing back to meet his thrusts. “She missed you so fuckin’ much.”
He fucked her harder, hips snapping forward, balls slapping against her clit. The couch scraped across the floor with every powerful drive, knocking into the coffee table in front of them. Books tumbled. A remote clattered. A glass vase wobbled and nearly fell on the hardwood.
They didn’t stop.
Annie came for the third time, walls squeezing him tight as she pushed back against him desperately.
Before she could fully recover from the orgasm, Smoke pulled out of her, leaving Annie draped over the armrest, thighs trembling with his cum dripping down her legs. He sat down heavily on the leather couch, legs spread, his thick shaft hard and glistening. His eyes locked on her as he gave the low, rough command—
“Ride my dick.”
Annie turned around, still shaking and breathless, and climbed onto his lap without a second of hesitation. Her knees sank into the cushions as she sank down onto him in one smooth, greedy motion. She didn’t ease into it. She rode him — rolling her hips in sinful circles before bouncing with purpose.
Damn, Smoke thought, eyes glued to where they were joined, watching himself disappear inside her over and over. When the hell she learn to fuck like this?
Annie braced her hands on his chest, braids swinging wildly as she worked him. Her breasts bounced with every drop. She leaned forward, lips brushing his ear.
“You like that?” she purred, voice husky with challenge and need. “Feel how deep I’m takin’ you?
She showin’ the fuck out, he thought, a dark spike of jealousy twisting with white-hot arousal. But he couldn’t deny how good it felt. His hands gripped her ass, guiding her faster.
Annie sat up straighter, planting her feet on the couch so she could move with purpose. The angle drew a broken sound from him, and for a moment triumph warmed her chest.
I thought about this every night, she thought. About making you forget everything, but me.
Then, uninvited, another thought slipped in.
Had Jada ever looked at him like this? Fucked him this good? Learned all his spots that make him straight-up fold?”
The questions stung almost as quickly as they came.
No.
She pushed them away.
Not now.
Tonight, the only thing she saw in his eyes was her.
Smoke watched her, his grip tightening instinctively at her hips as she moved above him. Something flickered across her face—so brief he almost missed it. Uncertainty. Gone as quickly as it appeared.
He stared up at her in quiet amazement. The shy girl whose cheeks would grow hot when he kissed her too long had disappeared. In her place was a woman who knew exactly what she wanted.
And what she wanted in this moment…
Was him.
He sat up slightly, one strong arm wrapping around her back to pull her closer. With his free hand, he shoved the bunched-up yellow dress higher up her torso, exposing more of her skin. The strapless bra she’d been wearing was already half-off — one cup pushed down from when he’d played with them earlier. Smoke quickly unclasped it and tossed it aside, fully freeing her breasts.
He lifted one heavy breast to his mouth, lips closing around her nipple as he sucked hard, tongue swirling and flicking over the sensitive peak. He switched to the other, giving it the same hungry treatment— sucking, licking, gently biting just enough to make her cry out.
Annie moaned loudly, her head falling back in pleasure. Her fingers threaded through his hair, holding him against her chest as she kept riding him, hips rolling and bouncing faster. “Yes— oh God, Elijah… just like that,” she whimpered, grinding down harder on him. “Don’t stop, baby… I love it.”
Smoke groaned against her soft, warm flesh, the vibration shooting through her body. He kept worshipping her breasts, palming their weight, squeezing, licking, and sucking while she rode him like she was trying to put a root on his soul.
“Fuck, Annie…” he groaned, against her breast, voice breaking. “Just like that, baby.”
That praise made her ride him even harder. The couch creaked dangerously beneath them. She rocked forward with one particularly enthusiastic bounce, and his instinctive reach for her threw them both off balance. They toppled over the side of the couch together, landing in a tangled heap on the rug, the breath rushing out of both of them.
That didn’t stop them.
Smoke came hard on the floor, burying himself and flooding her again while she clenched around him, milking every drop.
For half a minute, they could only stare.
Then Annie laughed.
It started as one startled sound before spilling into something bigger, brighter, until she was laughing so hard she had to hide her face against his shoulder. Smoke blinked at her before a laugh of his own escaped, low and rough, shaking loose from somewhere he hadn’t realized had been locked tight for years.
“Well…” she managed between breaths, “that was graceful.”
“Ain’t never claimed to be.”
She looked up at him then, really looked at him. The smile she’d been trying to hold back spread across her face, soft and impossibly familiar. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d heard her laugh like that. Maybe because every memory after she’d left had ended too soon.
His own smile faded into something quieter as he brushed a braid back from her face.
“I’ve missed you,” he admitted, almost too quietly to hear.
Annie’s smile softened. “I missed you.”
The laughter faded, leaving them wrapped in companionable quiet. They remained on the rug. For the first time since she’d knocked on his door, there was nothing to chase, nothing to prove. Just the two of them on the living room floor, exactly where they were supposed to be.
Their eyes met.
The smile on Annie’s lips slowly disappeared, replaced by something warmer, deeper. Smoke’s thumb traced along her cheek almost absentmindedly, and the room seemed to shrink until there was nothing left but the space between them.
The frantic edge between them softened, if only for a moment. He looked at her the way a man looks at something he’d spent years believing he’d never see again. She reached up and brushed her fingers across his face, and neither of them spoke. The silence said everything the last eight years never had.
Then Smoke scooped her up and carried her toward the bedroom, kissing her slow and deep the whole way.
Smoke carried Annie straight to the bed. He laid her down like she was something precious, even as hunger burned in his eyes. For a moment, he just hovered over her breathing her in.
“I love you.” The words slipped out before he could stop them. “A nigga, never stopped lovin’ you. Not for one fuckin’ day.”
Annie stayed quiet. Instead her hand moved to his face, fingertips gliding over the line of his jaw as though she needed to make sure memory hadn’t lied to her all these years.
He closed his eyes instinctively.
A watery laugh escaped her. “You still do that.”
His brow furrowed. “Do what?”
“Close your eyes when I touch you.” She smiled through tears. “You always did.”
His own smile came quietly. “Guess some things don’t change.”
He brushed away the tear clinging to her cheek with his thumb.
A tender smile tugged at Annie’s lips. “You still do that too.”
“Do what?”
“You never wipe my tears away. You always… brush ‘em away. Like you scared you’ll hurt me.”
Smoke let out a quiet, disbelieving laugh. “Guess I am.”
Annie held his gaze. “I know.” Her hand settled over his heart. “And I love you for it.”
His chest tightened.
She smiled, tears slipping free again. “I never stopped loving you either.”
Smoke didn’t say anything. He simply looked at her. Really looked at her. The years had added new stories to her face. There was a quiet confidence in her now that hadn’t been there at seventeen. She carried herself differently. She smiled at him. The left corner of her mouth lifted first just like it always had.
His own smile answered before he could stop it.
“What?” she asked softly.
“Nothin’.”
She smiled knowingly. “You starin’.”
A corner of his mouth lifted. “I know.”
She laughed quietly. “You always did that.”
“Did what?”
“Just… look at me.” Her smile softened. “Like you were tryin’ to memorize me.”
He didn’t answer. He just kept looking.
Annie’s heart squeezed.
“See?” Another beat passed. “And then…” Her thumb brushed lightly across his jaw. “You get real quiet whenever your heart gets too full.”
His eyes searched hers. “You still know me.”
She smiled. “I never forgot you.”
The words settled between them. Annie lifted her hand and traced the faint scar that disappeared beneath his beard along his jaw.
“You didn’t have this one before.”
“No.”
“When?”
“A few years ago.”
Her thumb lingered there for a moment before drifting across his cheek. “You’ve got a few gray hairs.”
Smoke let out a surprised laugh. “Do I now?”
“Mm-hmm.” Her smile widened. “I kinda like ’em.”
He shook his head, smiling despite himself.
“I was worried,” she admitted quietly.
His expression softened. “About what?”
“That I’d built you up in my head.” Her eyes searched his face as if she were still making sure. “I kept wondering if I’d remember you wrong.”
He reached up and tucked a loose braid behind her ear. “And?”
A tear escaped before she could stop it. “I didn’t.”
He caught her hand and kissed her palm. “And you still reach for my face first.”
She blinked. “I do?”
“Every time.”
She smiled, almost embarrassed. “I didn’t even realize.”
“You never did.”
Quiet fell between them as they took each other in. Their eyes wandered without hurry, tracing every familiar feature and every subtle change time had left behind. Some things were new. Others remembered. Still others simply rediscovered. Not because either of them had forgotten. But because after eight years apart, the real thing was infinitely better than the version memory had tried so desperately to preserve.
Annie smiled first. It wasn’t the bright, teasing smile she’d worn as a teenager. It was quieter. Surer. The smile of a woman who no longer had to wonder whether the man she loved still loved her back.
She reached for his hand, threading their fingers together. “We’re really here,” she marveled, almost to herself.
Smoke nodded once. “Yeah.” His thumb stroked slowly across her knuckles. “No more goodbyes.”
Her eyes filled again, but this time she smiled through them. “No more.”
Annie leaned forward first, their noses brushing. They stayed like that for another heartbeat, neither of them in any hurry to rush what they’d waited so long to have.
Then she kissed him. Slow and certain. His mouth answered hers. Soft. Patient. Nothing like the frantic hunger that had consumed them earlier. His thumb traced lazy circles across the back of her hand while their lips moved together, each kiss lingering just a little longer than the last.
She smiled against his mouth. He smiled too, then he pulled back. Only an inch.
Annie frowned. “What?”
Smoke looked at her before lowering his eyes to where their fingers were still threaded together. His thumb stroked slowly across her knuckles.
“We can’t do this.”
Everything inside Annie dropped.
The smile disappeared from her face.
“What?”
Her mind immediately started racing.
What do you mean we can’t do this?
After everything?
After you carried me upstairs?
Nigga! After you just had your whole fuckin’ face in my—
Her stomach lurched.
Smoke looked back up just in time to watch every emotion flash across her face. Confusion, panic, and then hurt.
“Nah.” He squeezed her hand. “Not like that.”
Annie blinked.
He let out the smallest laugh. “I can see yo’ ass over there spiralin’.”
Heat rushed into her cheeks. “I wasn’t—”
“You was.”
She opened her mouth. Closed it again. “Maybe a little.”
The corner of his mouth lifted.
She let out a shaky breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. “Oh.” Now she felt ridiculous. “What do you mean, then?”
He exhaled quietly. “I mean…” His jaw flexed once before he finally found the words. “I don’t wanna keep lovin’ you the way we used to.”
Confusion flickered across her features. “We loved each other.”
“We did.”
“So…”
“Sooo we spent eight years missin’ each other because neither one of us knew how to ask hard questions.”
The words landed hard.
Smoke rubbed a hand across his face before looking back at her. “I keep thinkin’ about yesterday.”
Annie chest caved in thinking about the cookout.
He nodded. “I got mad.”
She looked down. “I know.”
“I ain’t talkin’ ’bout Isoo.”
She looked back up.
“I’m talkin’ about me.” He laughed once, but there wasn’t any humor in it. “I drove home tellin’ myself I knew what happened.” He looked at her. “I ain’t know a fuckin’ thing.”
Annie felt something tighten in her chest. “I didn’t either.”
He nodded slowly. “That’s the problem.”
Silence stretched between them. Unhurried.
Necessary.
Smoke turned her hand over, studying the lines in her palm as if they might tell him something the last eight years hadn’t. “Every time somethin’ got hard,” His thumb moved absentmindedly across her skin. “We start guessin’.”
Annie didn’t respond, because he was right. She’d guessed he stopped loving her. He’d guessed she’d moved on. She’d guessed he didn’t care enough to come after her. He’d guessed she was happier without him. Neither of them had actually known.
Smoke lifted his eyes to hers. “I don’t wanna guess no more.”
Her throat tightened. “Neither do I.”
He nodded once. “Before we,” he smiled faintly. “Before we make love again…”
Those two words alone made her pussy jump.
Not have sex.
Not fuck.
Make love.
“I think we owe ourselves the truth.”
Annie swallowed. She suddenly wasn’t sure she wanted it. The truth had a way of changing things. “What if,” she began quietly.
He waited.
“What if the truth hurts?”
Smoke didn’t say anything. Instead, he reached up and brushed a loose braid behind her ear. “It already has.”
Her eyes filled with tears.
He smiled sadly. “I don’t think it can hurt us worse than the years apart did.”
A tear escaped before she could stop it. She nodded. “Okay.”
Smoke took a slow breath. Then another. When he finally spoke, his voice had gone quieter than she’d ever heard it. “Tell me straight up… you never got ’em?”
Annie knew exactly what he meant. Her eyes filled almost instantly. “No.”
He didn’t move or blink. Just looked at her. Like he was searching for something.
Her forehead creased. “When, did you write?”
“Like a month after you left.”
Pause.
“Then the next week.”
Another pause.
“And the week after that.”
Annie stared at him.
“I wrote damn near every Sunday.”
Her lips parted.
“I never…” She shook her head slowly. “Elijah… I never got any letters.”
His shoulders lowered. Not in surprise. Almost…recognition. “You didn’t.”
She shook her head harder. “No.” Tears welled in her eyes again. “You know I would’ve answered.”
“I know.”
“I would’ve.”
“I know.”
“I would’ve written you every day if I’d known—”
“I know.”
The certainty in his voice stopped her. She searched his face. “You… believe me?”
A sad smile touched the corner of his mouth. “I know when you lyin’.” His thumb brushed slowly across her knuckles. “And this ain’t it.”
Another tear slipped down her cheek.
He looked away for a moment, his jaw working once before he spoke again. “I spent a long time tryin’ to convince myself you did.” His voice had gone quieter. “It hurt less than believin’ somethin’ happened to ’em.”
Silence fell between them. Neither of them knew what to do with eight years suddenly sitting between them.
Annie watched him. She could see him so clearly now. Seventeen years old. Sitting on the edge of his bed after another phone call. Wondering why she hadn’t said anything. Wondering if she’d read every word he’d poured onto those pages…and decided they weren’t worth answering.
The thought made her chest ache.
A question surfaced before she could stop it. “Then why didn’t you ask me?”
Smoke looked up.
“When we’d talk.” She frowned, trying to understand. “Why didn’t you just ask if I got ’em?”
For the first time since they’d started talking, something almost shy crossed his face. He rubbed the back of his neck. “I was tryin’ to be romantic and shit.”
Despite everything, Annie let out the smallest laugh. “You?”
His shoulders lifted in an almost embarrassed shrug. “Stack.”
She blinked. “What about Stack?”
A corner of his mouth twitched. “He told me girls liked gettin’ letters.”
Another laugh escaped her. Of course he had. She could practically hear Stack saying it. “Trust me, bro. Bitches be eatin’ that shit up.”
Smoke huffed a quiet laugh of his own. “Said it’d make you smile.”
“It would’ve.” She answered so quickly neither of them had time to think about it.
His smile faded. “I know.”
He looked back down at their hands.
“At first, when you didn’t say nothin’…” He shrugged. “I figured maybe I messed up the address.” Another pause. “Or maybe I ain’t put enough stamps on it.”
Annie smiled sadly.
“I dunno. I never mailed nothin’ before.”
She laughed through fresh tears.
A small smile returned to his face. “It was supposed to be a surprise.”
His thumb continued its slow path across the back of her hand. “I didn’t wanna ruin it by askin’. So I waited.” His voice grew softer. “Figured it’d show up.” Another pause. “When it didn’t…” He swallowed. “I wrote another one.”
Annie felt her throat tighten.
“And when you still didn’t say nothin’…”
He looked away. “I was hopin’ maybe the mail was just slow.” A sad smile crossed his face. “So…” He shrugged again. “I wrote another one.”
She could picture it. Sunday after Sunday. Smoke sitting somewhere with a sheet of notebook paper. Trying to close the distance between Mississippi and North Carolina one page at a time.
“I kept thinkin’…” His voice almost disappeared. “The next one’ll get there.”
The tears she’d been holding back spilled over again.
“And after a while?” He laughed quietly at himself. “I figured…” He shook his head. “You prolly thought the shit was corny and just didn’t know how to tell me.”
Annie stared at him. Then reached up and cupped his face. “Elijah…” Her thumb brushed over his cheek. “I’ve been in love with you since I was fourteen.”
His eyes closed.
“There wasn’t a single thing you could’ve written…” Her voice cracked. “…that I would’ve thought was corny.”
Smoke covered her hand with his.
The room fell quiet. Neither knowing what to say.
Then—
Annie covered her mouth with her hand.
“Oh God…”
Her thoughts scattered in every direction at once. Letters. There had been letters. Letters she’d never seen. That couldn’t be right. Could it?
She squeezed her eyes shut, reaching backwards through memories she’d spent years trying not to touch. The mailbox. Her mother always checking it first.
Smoke watched as something began to unfold across her face. He hated what he was about to ask. But if they were doing this, being honest with one another.
They were doing all of it.
“Did your mama ever like me?” He asked quietly.
The question landed like a stone.
Annie opened her mouth automatically. “Of course she—” The words stopped.
Because…
Did she?
She thought about every Sunday afternoon Elijah would come over. Her mama had always been polite. Always smiling.
But…
There had always been something underneath it. Little comments Annie had dismissed at seventeen because they’d sounded less like warnings and more like motherly advice.
You don’t need to get too serious this young.”
“Don’t build your whole world around a boy.”
“That boy’s handsome, Anissa. Girls are always gonna be after somebody that looks like him.”
“Just… don’t be surprised if one day he realizes he got options.”
At the time, they’d sounded…practical. Protective. The kind of things mothers were supposed to say. She’d never questioned them. Why would she? She’d trusted her mama. And if she was honest…She’d already believed some of them.
Annie had never voiced how much that scared her. Instead, she’d smiled and quietly wondered how long it would take before he realized he could do better.
“I…” Her voice broke. “I don’t know.”
Smoke didn’t say, I knew it. He didn’t say, She threw them away. He simply reached over and took her hand again. “Think about it.”
Annie lowered her head. “I am.”
“I know.”
Annie looked down at their joined hands.
As time passed, she couldn’t bring herself to say anything. Everything she’d believed for eight years felt… unsteady. Not that she’d stopped trusting herself. It was because she wasn’t sure where her own thoughts ended and someone else’s began.
“I think…” Her voice came out barely above a whisper. “I think I already believed some of it.”
Smoke frowned. “Believed what?”
She swallowed hard. “That one day…” She laughed softly, shaking her head at herself. “…you’d realize you could do better than me.”
Smoke stared at her with complete disbelief. “Annie…”
She couldn’t look at him. “You’ve always been…” She searched for the words. “Beautiful.”
His eyebrows lifted.
“You probably don’t even know it.”
“I don’t.”
“You didn’t have to.” A watery smile touched her mouth before disappearing just as quickly. “Everybody else knew.”
Memories came rushing back. Girls hovering around his locker. Finding excuses to borrow pencils they didn’t need. Laughing a little too hard at shit that wasn't funny. Standing just a little too close.
“I used to watch girls look at you.” Her fingers tightened around his. “I’d pretend it didn’t bother me.”
His chest ached.
“I’d smile.”
She blinked away another tear. “And then I’d go home and wonder how long it’d be before you noticed one of ’em back.”
Smoke let out the smallest, saddest laugh. “Ann…”
“No.” She shook her head. “Let me finish.”
He nodded.
“When Mama would say things…” Annie’s eyes went towards the window. “About you being handsome. About girls always chasing boys like you. To not build my whole life around somebody…” She sighed. “I thought she was preparing me.”
“For what?”
She finally looked at him. “For the day you left.”
The words hung between them.
“So when the calls got shorter…”
Smoke’s expression changed.
“When we didn’t talk every night anymore…”
His thumb slowed against her hand.
“When days started passing instead of hours.” She shrugged helplessly. “I figured…” Her voice cracked. “…maybe it was happening.”
Smoke closed his eyes. “Bae…”
She shook her head. “I didn’t blame you.”
That surprised him. “I blamed me.”
His eyes opened wide.
“I thought…” She laughed through tears. “Maybe Mama was right.”
His stomach twisted.
“‘Cause why wouldn’t a boy that looked like you eventually find somebody prettier?”
He reached for her face before he even knew he was moving. His palm cupped her cheek. “Woman. Listen to me.”
She met his eyes.
“I ain’t never looked for nobody prettier.”
Fresh tears slipped down her face.
“There wasn’t nobody prettier.”
He smiled sadly. “There still ain’t.”
She closed her eyes. They didn’t speak. The moment was heavy with truths they’d never been brave enough to say when they were seventeen.
Annie covered her mouth as another tear slipped free. She opened her eyes again and stared down at their joined hands, trying to make sense of a past that no longer looked the way she’d remembered it. Every certainty she’d carried for years had begun to crack. His silence. The unanswered calls. The empty mailbox. Her mother’s gentle reassurances.
None of it fit together anymore.
His thumb continued its slow path across the back of her hand, the same absentminded stroke he’d always done whenever she was overwhelmed. Seventeen-year-old Annie would’ve smiled without thinking.
Twenty-five-year-old Annie nearly broke because he still remembered.
She drew a shaky breath. “There…” She laughed softly through the tears. “There’s something I still don’t understand.”
Smoke lifted his eyes to hers. “What?”
She drew in a shaky breath. “I believe you.”
Smoke looked at her.
“About the letters.” She squeezed his hand. “You never stopped lovin’ me.”
His thumb brushed over her knuckles.
“Thinkin’ I was the prettiest girl in the world.”
A small smile tugged at one corner of his mouth. “You are.”
Annie smiled through fresh tears before it slowly faded. “But…” She searched his face. “There’s still one thing I don’t understand.”
Smoke nodded. “Ask me.”
She hesitated. “I understand movin’ on.”
His expression softened.
“Eight years…” She shook her head. “That’s a long time.” Another breath. “I would’ve never expected you to spend your whole life waitin’ on me.”
“I just…”
Her fingers tightened around his. Then she blurted it out.
“Why Jada?”
Smoke looked down. It wasn’t because he didn’t want to answer. It was because he’d wondered the same thing himself more than once.
“I didn’t start datin’ Jada after you left.”
Annie stared.
“Shit…” A humorless laugh escaped him. “I didn’t really date nobody.”
“You didn’t?”
He shook his head. “Not seriously.”
She blinked.
“I wasn’t lookin’.” He shrugged one shoulder. “I worked. Spent time with Stack, Mike, Mama, and Uncle Lewis. Lived my life.” He paused. “I missed you.” His thumb traced absent circles against the back of her hand. “Years passed.”
Neither of them spoke.
Then…
“Jada didn’t come around till later.” He sighed. “She just…” he shrugged. “Kept showin’ up.”
Annie listened quietly.
“We’d run into each other at job sites. She’d call and ask if I wanted to grab somethin’ to eat. I’d say no.” A faint smile crossed his face. “Then she’d ask again and again.” His smile disappeared. “Eventually…” He looked down at their hands. “I got tired of sayin’ no.”
“I figured maybe…” He swallowed. “Maybe this was what movin’ on was supposed to look like.”
Annie watched him carefully.
“But it never felt right.” He laughed softly. “I kept waitin’ on it to.”
Her heart squeezed. She hesitated before asking the question that had lived inside her since yesterday.
“You knew she liked you.”
Smoke frowned. “What?”
“You knew.”
She searched his face. “Even back then.”
His expression changed.
“I told you.” Annie paused. “I told you I couldn’t stand her.”
Smoke nodded slowly. “You did.”
“So why didn’t you ask me why?”
His shoulders dropped. “I don’t know.”
“No,” She squeezed his hand gently. “You do.”
They simply looked at each other, saying nothing.
Finally…
“’Cause I thought it was some female bullshit.”
Annie closed her eyes.
“I thought y’all just didn’t get along over some petty girl shit.” He shook his head at himself. “She said this.’ ‘She said that.’ I never stopped to think there might’ve been more to it.” He looked ashamed. “I never thought to ask.”
Annie nodded once. “No, you didn’t.” Her voice wasn’t angry. Just sad. A sadness that sounded older than either of them.
“When you’d walk away…”
Smoke looked up.
“She’d wait until you couldn’t hear.”
His brow furrowed.
“Then she’d come stand beside me.”
He stayed quiet, listening.
“She always smiled.” A humorless laugh slipped from Annie. “Always.”
Her gaze dropped to the floor, following memories she’d spent years trying not to revisit.
“At first I thought she was just bein’ nice.” She swallowed. “‘Y’all are so cute together,’ she’d say.”
Smoke frowned.
“‘You’re lucky he noticed you first.’”
His expression sobered.
“‘You know Smoke could have anybody he wanted, right?’”
The weight of what had been said settled over them both.
Annie laughed again, though there wasn’t an ounce of humor in it. “And when I wouldn’t say nothin’,” she looked down at their joined hands. “She’d smile, then say… ‘I’m just sayin’… don’t take him for granted.’”
Smoke’s jaw flexed.
“Then she’d tell me college was gonna be full of prettier girls.” Annie blinked hard against another wave of tears. “What if you met women who were smarter than me?”
Another pause.
“More accomplished.” Her voice grew smaller. “Better.”
Smoke just stared at her. She watched the pieces come together one by one.
“I thought…” She laughed through a shaky breath. “I thought she was tellin’ me the truth.”
His chest tightened. “Annie…”
“Then Mama…” She stopped. The words caught somewhere behind her ribs.
Smoke waited.
“She’d say similar things.”
His eyebrows lifted slightly.
“Not mean.” Annie shook her head. “She thought she was protectin’ me.” She looked away. “Again with the.. ‘don’t build your whole world around a boy.’” A tear slipped down her cheek. “‘Boys like them twins have a lotta choices.’”
Another.
“‘Don’t be the girl sittin’ around waitin’ on some pretty boy to remember you.’”
Smoke closed his eyes. “Anissa…”
“I didn’t hear two different people.” Her voice barely rose above a whisper. “I heard the same thing.” She looked back at him, tears swimming in her eyes. “Over and over and over.” A painful smile crossed her face. “So when your calls got farther apart.” She shrugged helplessly, voice breaking. “I thought everybody else already knew somethin’ I didn’t.”
Smoke didn’t speak. He couldn’t. He reached for her instead, cupping both sides of her face. His thumbs brushed away tears that refused to stop falling.
“No.” The word came immediately. Certain. “I never—not one day—thought I could do better than you.”
He rested his forehead against hers.
“I thought I was the lucky one.”
Annie blinked. “What?”
His thumb brushed her cheek. “You beautiful.” Another slow stroke. “Funny as fuck.” His eyes searched hers. “And when you walk in a room, it be like the sun decided to come with you.”
Tears welled in Annie’s eyes.
“It still do.” He hesitated, then—
“Seventeen-year-old me…” He smiled faintly. “He couldn’t believe the prettiest girl he’d ever seen wanted him.” His eyes glistened. “Twenty-six-year-old me still can’t.”
Annie closed her eyes. His words didn’t erase eight years. They didn’t erase every lie she’d slowly learned to believe. But they did something she’d never expected. They gave those lies another voice to compete with.
Elijah’s.
And for the first time…his voice was louder.
She opened her eyes again. “I wish I’d told you.”
“I wish you’d had too.” He shook his head. “I should’ve been payin’ attention.”
She frowned. “You couldn’t have known.”
“I should’ve asked.” His voice was steady now. “When you told me you didn’t like her…” He let out a slow breath. “I chalked it up to girl stuff.” He shook his head at himself. “I thought y’all just didn’t click.” Another pause. “I should’ve asked why.”
Annie searched his face. “You would’ve believed me?”
He looked almost offended by the question. “I would’ve believed you.” A tear rolled down his cheek. “I just wish I’d given you the chance to tell me.”
Annie wiped his tears away. They were finally saying the things they should’ve said eight years ago.
After a while, Annie laughed softly through her tears. “We really been two dumbass fools since we was seventeen.”
A smile tugged at Smoke’s mouth. “The dumbest.”
She nodded. “So dumb.”
He lifted their joined hands and pressed a lingering kiss against her knuckles.
“But we ain’t no more.”
For the first time since the conversation began, they both laughed together. The weight of finally understanding each other had made room for something lighter.
Annie looked at him again. “There's one more thing.”
“What?”
“You said you wrote me every Sunday.”
“I did.”
“How do you remember that?”
Smoke’s smile faded into something softer. Something almost shy. He looked down for a moment before meeting her eyes again.
“Because I still got ‘em.’”
Annie blinked. “What?”
He looked up again. “The letters.”
Her heart skipped. “You… still have them?”
A small, almost embarrassed smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. He nodded. “Not the ones I mailed.”
She frowned, trying to understand. “Then…”
“The drafts.”
“The drafts?”
Another nod. “I wrote ’em in a notebook first.”
She stared at him. “You made drafts?”
A quiet laugh escaped him. “I had to.”
He lifted one shoulder in a small shrug. “You know my handwritin’s shit.”
“It wasn’t that bad.”
“It was.”
His smile lingered for only a second before fading. “My hands…” His fingers flexed unconsciously against hers. “They’d start shakin’ when I got frustrated.”
Annie felt her chest tighten. She remembered. He didn’t like talking about it, but she’d seen it. The way he’d grip a pencil a little harder whenever a test got difficult. How he’d tuck one hand into the pocket of his hoodie after getting called on in class. In the afternoons she’d quietly slide his notebook closer to herself without saying a word whenever his frustration got the better of him. She’d never thought much about it then.
It was simply part of Elijah.
“I’d write somethin’,” he continued quietly, “fuck it up…” A faint smile crossed his face. “Get pissed and tear the page out.” He looked down again. “Start over.” Another pause. “Eventually I started usin’ a notebook.” He shrugged. “It was easier, I could scratch stuff out without wastin’ paper.” His thumb continued its absentminded path over the back of her hand. “Once I figured out what I wanted to say…” He smiled to himself. “I’d copy it onto the good paper.”
Annie could see it—him at the little desk in his bedroom. Head bent low. Tongue pressed against the inside of his cheek the way it always had whenever he concentrated. Writing. Crossing out. Starting over. Trying to fit an entire week’s worth of missing her onto a few sheets of notebook paper.
“They’re all still there?”
His eyes met hers. “Every one.”
She swallowed hard. “I can’t believe you kept them.”
He was quiet for so long she wondered if he’d answer at all.
Finally—
“I couldn’t throw ’em away.” His voice was barely above a whisper. “They was still you.”
The words stole the breath from her lungs. They sounded exactly like Elijah. Simple and honest. As though there had never been another answer.
Annie broke. They weren’t loud sobs. Just quiet, aching tears as she reached for him again, wrapping both arms around him like she was trying to hold together all the years they’d lost.
“I wanna read them.”
A slow smile spread across his face. “I know.”
The room had gone quiet again.
Smoke glanced toward the closet. “I’ll be right back.”
Annie frowned. “Where you goin’?”
“You’ll see.”
He slipped out of the bed, completely unconcerned by his nakedness.
Annie wasn’t.
Her eyes followed him.
Lord…
Eight years hadn’t been nearly enough time to prepare her for seeing Elijah Moore naked in broad daylight. The muscles across his back rolled as he walked toward the closet, every movement easy and unhurried, as though he hadn’t just turned her entire world upside down.
She smiled to herself. Still beautiful. Maybe even more than he’d been at seventeen.
He disappeared into the walk-in closet for a moment. She heard the faint scrape of something being moved across a shelf.
A box.
Another.
Then—
“There you are.”
He emerged carrying an old black spiral notebook. The corners were bent. The cover had long since faded to more gray than black. He climbed back onto the bed without a word and settled beside her again. For a second, he simply looked at it. His thumb brushed absently over the worn cover. Then he held it out.
Annie looked from the notebook to him. “These are the drafts.”
Her heart skipped. Carefully, she took it from him. The cardboard cover bent softly beneath her fingers. It wasn’t heavy. But somehow it felt like it. She opened it. The first page was messy. Crossed-out words. Half-finished sentences. Entire paragraphs scribbled through before beginning again underneath.
She smiled. “You really weren’t lyin’ about your handwriting.”
Smoke groaned. “I told you.”
She laughed. “It’s terrible.”
“I know.”
“But…” Her thumb traced over one of the scratched-out lines. “It’s kinda adorable.”
Heat crept into the tips of his ears. He looked away.
Annie smiled to herself. She’d almost forgotten. Elijah still blushed. She turned the page. At the top, in careful block letters, he’d written: Sunday. No date. Just… Sunday.
Below it—
Hey Pretty Girl…
The words had been crossed out.
Underneath them—
Hey Annie…
Crossed out again.
Then—
I don’t know how to start these.
Her chest tightened. She kept reading.
Church was long as fuck today.
Pastor Johnson preached fo’ almost an hour and Stack fell asleep halfway through, snorin’ like a muthafucka. Mama smacked him in the back of his head. I laughed.
She smacked me too.
Annie laughed quietly.
Smoke rubbed the back of his neck. “I forgot that was in there.”
She kept reading.
Today Stack made fun of me ‘cause I looked over every time somebody laughed. He said I keep thinkin’ it’s you. I told him to shut his bitch ass up.
…He wasn’t wrong tho.
Aunt Cheryl made gumbo tonight. She packed me enough for three days. I almost asked if I could freeze some for when you came home.
Guess I ain’t used to sayin’ “North Carolina” yet.
Her smile faltered.
Another page.
You would’ve liked the storm tonight. It sounded like the one that knocked our power out sophomore year. I still remember you bein’ scared of the thunder. You said you wasn’t scared.
You was lyin’.
A tear landed on the page. She laughed as she wiped it away. “I was not.”
“You absolutely was.”
“I wasn’t.”
“You climbed in my lap.”
“Why you lyin?”
“You definitely did.”
She smiled through fresh tears. “I was cold.”
Smoke looked at her. “Mhm.”
She bumped his shoulder. “Don’t start.”
A grin flickered across his face before disappearing again.
She turned another page. This one had fewer cross-outs. His handwriting looked steadier.
More confident.
I keep thinkin’ you’ll call tonight. Every time the phone rings, my heart starts actin’ stupid. I hate that Stack notices. He don’t say nothin’ tho.
He just hands me the phone.
I keep catchin’ myself savin’ things to tell you. Stuff Aunt Cheryl says. Things that happened at school. Songs on the radio. Little things that ain’t important to nobody else. Then I remember you ain’t here.
So I guess I’ll tell you next Sunday instead.
Annie covered her mouth. “Wow...”
She hadn’t known. She hadn’t known any of it. Every page was another version of Elijah she’d never gotten to meet. The boy who noticed sunsets because she would’ve liked them. Who saved funny stories all week because he wanted to tell her. Who missed her so much he wrote about ordinary things just to make her feel like she was still part of his days.
She looked over at him. He hadn’t said a word. Just watched her. Waiting. Almost nervously. As though he wasn’t sure what she’d think. She reached over and threaded her fingers through his—without looking away from the notebook.
“I would’ve answered every one.”
His eyes closed. “I know.”
“No.” She shook her head. “I don’t think you do.”
Another page.
Another Sunday.
Another week he’d loved her.
Another conversation they’d never gotten to have.
Annie’s fingers rested against the worn cover for a long moment before she gently closed the notebook. Neither of them reached for it again. It had answered the question she’d been carrying for eight years.
He’d written her every Sunday she’d been gone. Neither of them spoke. Nothing else needed proving.
Annie turned toward him. Smoke was already looking at her. He hadn’t asked what she thought of the letters. He hadn’t needed to. Somehow, he’d always known her well enough to read the answers on her face.
Her hand lifted almost without thinking. Her fingertips found his cheek, tracing it slowly, memorizing him again.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
His brow furrowed. “For what?”
She smiled through the tears still clinging to her lashes. “For never stoppin’.”
“Never knew how.”
Smoke’s thumb caressed the back of her hand.
“So…”
“So.” Annie smiled.
He looked down for a second. “You goin’ back to NC?”
A beat.
She nodded. “I have to.”
His jaw flexed once. “When?”
“Tuesday. I got work on Thursday.”
Another quiet beat.
Annie watched him carefully. “You think we can do this?”
His head came up immediately. “I know we can.”
She smiled. “We couldn’t at seventeen.”
“We ain’t seventeen no more.”
He said it so simply it almost made her laugh.
“I ain’t lettin’ distance make decisions for us again.”
Another pause.
“If somethin’ bother you…” He squeezed her hand. “You tell me.”
“I will.”
“If I say I’m writin’ you…” A small smile tugged at his mouth. “I’m tellin’ yo’ ass this time.”
She laughed. “Good.”
“‘Cause I ain’t losin’ you to the United States Postal Service again.”
She laughed harder. “I know that's right.”
He smiled too, but it faded into something quieter. “I’ll come see you.”
“What?” She blinked.
“I’ll come to North Carolina.”
“You don’t have to—”
“I want to.”
His answer came without hesitation.
“And you’ll come back here.”
“I will.” She nodded.
“We’ll figure the rest out.” He shrugged one shoulder. “One week at a time if we gotta.”
“So…” Annie stared at him, while smiled through tears. “We’re really doin’ this?”
Smoke looked at her like the answer had never been in doubt. “I thought I already asked.”
Her brows knit together. “When?”
“When I told you I never stopped lovin’ you.”
Her breath caught.
“‘Cause I wasn’t askin’ you to remember me.” His hand found her cheek. “I was askin’ if I could love you again.”
She didn’t answer with words. She leaned forward and kissed him.
When they finally separated, Annie glanced down at the notebook still resting in her lap. Carefully, she closed it and set it on the nightstand. Neither of them reached for it again. They would later. There were still pages left to read. More Sundays to reclaim.
The notebook had given her eight years back. Now she wanted the years ahead.
Smoke watched her for a long moment before lifting a hand to her face. His fingertips brushed a curl away from her cheek, lingering there as though he still couldn’t quite believe she was real.
Annie leaned into his touch without thinking.
“Come here,” he murmured.
She smiled softly. “I’m already here.”
The corner of his mouth lifted. “Closer.”
She shifted against him until there wasn’t any space left between them. His arms settled around her almost instinctively, and for a while neither of them spoke. They simply lay there, breathing the same air, listening to the quiet rhythm of each other’s heartbeat.
Annie tipped her face up first. Their mouths met in an unhurried kiss. Slow and familiar, as though they finally had all the time eight years had stolen from them. Annie melted against him, her fingers wandering through the short curls at the back of his head while his hand drifted lazily along her spine.
She lay against his chest, smiling into another kiss. They’d spent the morning relearning each other again.
Now…
They simply wanted to be closer.
Annie didn’t wait long before desire took over again. She broke the kiss.
Smoke smiled against her mouth. “What?” he asked quietly.
“Nothin’,” she whispered. She kissed him one more time before pulling away.
Annie stood up in front of the bed, eyes never leaving his. With a slow, knowing smile, she reached up and pulled the elastic from her hair. The ponytail, already hanging on by a thread, gave way instantly, her curls tumbling around her shoulders and down her back. She raked her fingers through them once before pushing the ruined yellow dress the rest of the way down her body, letting it pool at her feet.
The ripped panties followed, sliding down her thighs until she stepped out of them completely. She stood there fully naked, letting him look at her. Breasts heaving, skin marked from his mouth and hands, thighs still shiny with their earlier combined release.
Smoke forgot to breathe as he watched her. She never broke eye contact, staring right back at him with pure love and heat.
Annie climbed onto the bed like a woman on a mission. Smoke sat up straighter. His manhood followed. He couldn’t take his eyes off her. Her full breasts swayed heavily with every movement, nipples still hard from his earlier attention. Her hips switched seductively from side to side as she crawled toward him, ass up, back arched just enough to make his mouth water. He noticed everything. The way her braids fell over one shoulder, the soft jiggle of her body with each movement. It was the sexiest thing he’d ever seen.
She pushed him onto his back and crawled between his legs, eyes locked on his with pure love and wicked intent. Starting at his chest, she kissed her way down his body. Slow, open-mouthed kisses over his abs, his hips, until she reached his thick length.
She wrapped her fingers around him and took him into her mouth with zero hesitation.
“Fuck, Annie…” Smoke groaned, head falling back as she sank down, taking him deep on the first try. She was wet, messy, and worshipful with it— spit dripped down his shaft as she bobbed her head on his lap, hollowing her cheeks with strong suction, tongue swirling around the head before taking him deep again. One hand twisted at the base while the other gently massaged his balls.
Who is this woman? he wondered, awestruck. The girl he remembered had giggled nervously, looking up at him with shy eyes. “You want me to put my mouth where?” she’d whispered with innocent disbelief.
Now she was swallowing him whole.
“That’s it, baby,” he praised, voice rough and loving as he fisted her braids gently. “Suck that muthafuka. Just like that.”
Annie moaned loudly around him, the vibration making his toes curl. She took him even deeper, relaxing her throat until her nose pressed against him, holding there while humming. She was confident, greedy, and completely focused on pleasing him.
Smoke’s grip tightened in her braids, thighs shaking. “Fuck, baby… I love you. Love this mouth. Love how youuu… Shiiiit, you gon’ make me lose it.”
Before he could, he gently pulled her off him, his eyes wild with lust and devotion. “Nah, come here.”
He flipped their positions and laid her gently on her back. For a little while, he just hovered over her, eyes locked on hers. Then he pushed her legs back slowly, folding her open, and sank into her with one smooth, deep stroke until their hips met.
A soft, shared moan filled the space between them.
Smoke didn’t rush. He rolled his hips in long, deliberate circles, grinding deep so the thick head of his dick rubbed firmly against that sensitive spot inside her with every slow thrust. His hand cradled the back of her head, fingers gently tangled in her braids, while his other palm slid down her side, cupping her breast and brushing his thumb across her nipple.
Annie’s breath hitched. Her walls fluttered around him as she tilted her hips to meet each stroke, taking him even deeper. Her fingers traced the muscles of his back, nails lightly scratching as pleasure built in waves.
He leaned down until they were brow to brow, their breathing mingling hot and ragged. “I love you,” he breathed against her lips, his voice cracking with raw emotion as he stroked her deep. “Annie… you my home. My peace. My everything. I’m never letting you go again.”
He kissed her slow and deep, tongue sliding against hers in time with his hips. Every thrust was unhurried, a steady push and grind that made her toes curl and her thighs tremble around his waist. He watched her face the whole time: the way her eyes fluttered, the little gasp when he angled just right, the way her lips parted on a soft moan. He adjusted slightly, pressing deeper, making sure every movement dragged perfectly against her.
Annie whimpered into his mouth, legs tightening around him as she rocked up to meet him. Tears slipped from the corners of her eyes. She held him closer, bodies pressed flush, skin slick with sweat.
“I love you too,” she breathed between kisses, voice shaking with emotion and building pleasure. “I’m never leaving you again. Aaah—don’t stop… just like this.”
He kissed her tears away, then captured her mouth in a slow, passionate kiss as he kept that deep, steady rhythm. Every roll of his hips pressed against her sex. Every thrust dragged along that sensitive spot inside her. His hands roamed—one cupping her breast, thumb brushing her nipple, the other gripping her hip to hold her right where he wanted her.
The pleasure built gradually. Annie’s moans grew breathier, her nails gently scratching down his back as she met every thrust. Smoke groaned into her mouth, each kiss interrupted by another hushed confession.
“That’s it, baby… feel me. Feel how deep I am. This is us. This is home.”
Their bodies moved together in perfect sync. Slow, sensual, and incredibly intimate. Skin against skin. Hearts pounding in time. The connection was electric and tender all at once. When they finally came, it was together — intense, soul-shaking waves that left them trembling and clinging to each other, letting quiet “I love yous” over and over as pleasure and love crashed through them.
After a long while, Smoke stood on shaky legs, grabbed her hand, and led her to the bathroom. He ran a warm shower, steam filling the small space, then stepped in with her, holding her close under the spray.
The water cascaded over them, washing away sweat and the lingering traces of their morning and afternoon, but the marks remained on her throat, scratches down his back, fingerprints bruised into her hips. Smoke took a soft washcloth, soaped it, and began cleaning her with heartbreaking tenderness.
He stood beneath the spray for a moment, his hands resting lightly at her waist as warm water ran over them both. The room had gone quiet except for the steady rhythm of the shower. He smiled to himself, almost disbelievingly.
She was here.
He started with her face, wiping away tear tracks, then moved lower. When he reached between her legs, Annie winced softly—sore, swollen, thoroughly used.
“Am I hurtin’ you?” he asked worried, voice gentle, kissing her temple.
“No,” she smiled through the ache. “Besides, you said I was gonna feel you for weeks.”
He smirked cockily, “I did say that, huh?”
While he carefully cleaned her sensitive folds with slow, gentle strokes of the warm cloth, his fingers brushing her with painstaking care, memories washed over Annie. She shivered beneath his touch.
Her on top. Reverse cowgirl. Pussy swallowing him deep while he couldn’t do anything, but take it. A soft moan escaped her. Smoke noticed, eyes darkening with fresh heat even as he stayed gentle.
“You thinkin’ about how I had you against the dresser?” he murmured, voice low and loving. “Had your legs over my arms, fucking you so deep while you bit my neck?”
Annie nodded, leaning into him. She reached for her washcloth and returned the favor, washing his chest, his abs, then carefully washing him with the same loving care he’d shown her. “I love you, Elijah.”
He pulled her flush against him under the water and kissed her. “I love you more than anythin’. We lost too much time. Never again, tho.”
They stayed in the shower long after they were clean, just holding each other, trading soft kisses and quiet vows, letting the water soothe sore muscles and heal old wounds.
Wrapped in towels, Annie helped Elijah change the linens, and then they collapsed back into the bed. Annie sprawled across his chest, tracing lazy circles over his heart.
Smoke pressed a kiss to the top of her braids.
“By the way… Hi.”
Annie laughed, soft, wrecked, and full of love. She kissed the spot over his heart.
“Hi.”
End Note: Well… That’s it y’all! 🥹 This was the chapter I’ve been working toward from the very beginning. The one that’s lived in my head (and stressed me out 😭) for longer than I’d like to admit. I rewrote parts of it more times than I can count because I wanted to make sure I got it right. I hope I did! 😬 Thank you for taking this journey with Smoke and Annie. Thank you for your patience, your comments, your theories, your excitement, and for loving these two as much as I do. 💜
I think I’ll do an Epilogue where we go 5-10 years in the future to see where our fav couple is now. What do y’all think? 🥰
I’ve read and it was soooooooooooo good !! They was in there playing baddest one touch my hand lol because both smoke & Annie was showing out !!! Yesssss yall come get into !!
Summary: She wore a yellow dress. He opened the door. Eight years of silence finally comes to an end. Questions get answered. Truths come to light. Hearts are healed. And two people who never stopped loving each other finally get the chance to say everything they should’ve said eight years ago. 💛
Contains: Explicit Sexual Content, Rough and Sex, Possession, Claiming, Dirty Talk, Oral Sex, Deepthroating, Cunnilingus, Vaginal Sex, Creampie, Multiple Positions, Wall Sex, Doggy Style, Missionary, Cowgirl (talks of it), Hair Pulling, Marking, Biting, Size Kink, and Praise
WC: 12k+
Dividers By: @saradika-graphics and @deadnburied13
“Annie…”
Stack’s voice broke the quiet before Annie had even finished buckling her seatbelt.
She glanced up. “What?”
He pulled away from Aunt Cheryl’s curb, looked in the rearview mirror, then looked again.
“Whatchu got on, mane?”
Annie frowned. “What you mean?”
“I’m askin’ whatchu got on.”
She looked down at herself.
A pale yellow babydoll dress that brushed the middle of her thighs whenever she walked. Soft cotton. Loose enough that the Mississippi heat wouldn’t suffocate her before nine o’clock. White sandals. Her braids were pulled into a high ponytail, the ends brushing the tops of her shoulders every time she turned her head.
She looked back up. “Clothes?”
Stack snorted.
Annie frowned. “What?”
He pointed toward the rearview mirror. “Look.”
She glanced at herself. “I’m lookin’.”
“Exactly.”
Annie folded her arms. “It’s already damn near a hundred degrees outside.”
“It’s eight in the mornin’.”
“And?”
“And you know gotdamn well what you doin’.”
“I don’t.”
“C’mon, bruh. You put on the shortest dress you own to see my brother.”
“It’s not my shortest dress.”
“It ain’t church length.”
“It comes mid-thigh.”
“Exactly. Too fuckin’ short.”
She rolled her eyes. “It’s lightweight.”
“Mm-hmm.”
“It breathes.”
“Mmm-hmm.”
“I didn’t wanna be sweatin’.”
“Mmmmmm-hmm.”
She threw her hands up.
“Can you stop ‘mhmmin’ me?”
Pearline snorted.
Stack grinned.
“Can you stop lyin’ to me?”
She sighed. “You don’t believe me?”
Pearline was full-on laughing now.
Stack shook his head. “Hell nah.” He leaned back in his seat. “You tryna get fucked.”
Annie’s eyes widened. “What!?”
Pearline completely lost it.
Stack continued. “You tryna get Smoke to forget all the shit from yesterday.”
Annie looked back down at the yellow fabric gathered across her lap. Truthfully, she didn’t believe her damn self either. She’d stood in front of Aunt Cheryl’s guest room mirror for nearly twenty minutes that morning. Pulled out jeans. Put them back. Picked up another dress. Changed her mind. Finally reached for the yellow one because it made sense.
It was cool. Comfortable. Simple. At least, that’s what she’d told herself. The truth, however, settled somewhere much lower.
She wanted Elijah to look at her.
To see her.
Not because she expected anything to happen. She wasn’t trying to seduce him. She just… wanted him to think she looked beautiful. The thought sent a flutter through her stomach.
“Nigga, shut up. She’s just a girl.” Pearline said while batting her eyes at him. She twisted around in her seat with entirely too much interest looking Annie up and down. “Buuut, I mean.” She shrugged. “If something does happen…”
“Pea.”
“That wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world, would it?”
“Pea.”
“What?”
“Stop.”
“I’m just sayin’.”
“I ain’t.”
Pearline’s grin widened. Then, without warning, she started singing in that smooth, honey-rich voice of hers.
“I wanna siiiit on it…”
She barely made it through the first lyric before laughing so hard she couldn’t continue.
Annie buried her face in her hands.
“Line, please.”
Stack barked out a laugh. “Yeah, keep singin’ like that and you gon’ be sittin’ on somethin’, girl.”
Pearline slapped his shoulder. “You always got somethin’ to say.”
“Am I lyin’?”
Pearline sucked her teeth, but didn’t outright answer the question, instead— “You ain’t right.”
“I been hearin’ that my whole life.”
Their voices blended into another playful argument, bouncing back and forth while Annie turned towards the backseat window. The smile faded from her face. Yesterday replayed itself whether she wanted it to or not.
The disaster that was the cookout.
Running after Elijah.
His truck long gone before she reached the road.
Walking through Aunt Cheryl’s yard with tears streaming down her face while everybody quietly gave her space to fall apart.
The second she’d walked back inside, she’d looked straight at Stack. “Take me to his house.”
Nobody agreed. They’d all said the same thing.
Not tonight.
Everybody’s hurtin’.
Sleep on it.
But once everything quieted down, Stack reached over and rested a hand on her shoulder. He looked her square in the eye.
“If you still wanna go in the mornin’…” He gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze. “I’ll take you.”
So here they were.
Stack and Pearline were still going back and forth over something that she caught between pieces of laughter, but Annie’s attention had already drifted beyond the windshield.
The road narrowed as they left the highway behind, trading traffic for stretches of open fields and towering pines. Morning sunlight spilled across the countryside, catching the dew still clinging to tall grass and fence posts. Everything looked washed clean, quiet in a way cities never seemed capable of being.
Stack turned onto another road, this one gravel. The car bounced gently beneath them.
Pearline glanced over her shoulder. “We almost there.”
Annie nodded, though she wasn’t entirely sure whether the motion was for Pearline or herself. Her stomach had been fluttering since she’d gotten dressed. Now it felt heavier. The butterflies hadn’t disappeared. They’d simply sunk deeper.
She looked out the window again.
The gravel driveway stretched farther than she’d expected, winding between rows of mature oak trees whose branches reached over the road like they were welcoming visitors beneath them. Beyond the trees, she caught glimpses of open pasture, weathered fencing, and acres of land stretching farther than she could immediately take in.
Then the house came into view.
It wasn’t flashy, and wasn’t the biggest house she’d ever seen. It wasn’t trying to impress anybody.
It simply belonged there.
A wide front porch stretched across nearly the entire length of the house, spilling around one corner just enough to suggest somebody had wanted one more place to sit beneath the evening shade. Thick wooden posts rested on stone bases that matched the stonework running along the front of the house, giving everything a quiet sense of permanence. Black rocking chairs sat near one end beside a small wooden table worn smooth by years of use instead of decoration. Hanging ferns swayed lazily beneath the porch roof while neatly kept flower beds softened the edges with just enough color to feel cared for without ever looking fussy.
Above it all, a dark metal roof caught the morning sun, practical and understated.
Exactly the sort of roof Elijah would choose.
Her eyes traveled further across the property to a large detached workshop that sat off to the side.
Even from the backseat she could see stacks of lumber tucked neatly beneath the overhang, each pile squared so precisely it looked less like storage and more like the work of a man incapable of leaving a job halfway done. A tractor rested beside the building. So did a flatbed trailer and a work truck dusted with dried Mississippi clay. The wide garage doors stood open, revealing shelves lined with tools and workbenches arranged with the same quiet order she’d always associated with him.
Nothing about the property felt accidental. Everything had a purpose. A smile tugged gently at the corner of Annie’s mouth before she realized it was there.
Of course.
Of course this was what he’d built. Not a home meant to impress strangers. A home meant to be lived in. Something that could weather storms. A place people could come home to.
Somehow…
It looked exactly the way she would’ve imagined. Quiet. Steady. Solid. Built with his own hands.
Built to last.
Something quiet stirred inside of her.
For years she’d wondered what kind of life Elijah had built without her. Wondered where he slept. If another woman had helped him build it. Or whether she’d even recognize the man he’d become. Instead she found herself looking at a place that answered all of those questions before she’d even stepped out of the car.
She still knew him.
It wasn’t that he’d changed so little, he’d changed exactly the way she’d imagined he would. He’d built a life the same way he built everything else.
One careful piece at a time.
Stack slowed to a stop near the front of the house before shifting the car into park. The engine fell quiet.
Annie didn't move to get out of the car right away.
Pearline turned halfway around in her seat. “You want us to come up there with you?”
Annie’s eyes never left the porch. “No.”
“You sure?”
She swallowed. “No.”
Stack studied her through the rearview mirror for a long moment before nodding once. “You got this.”
Annie nodded. She reached for the door handle. Then stopped. Her hand rested there for a beat while she gathered what little courage she had left.
Yesterday she tried to run away.
Today…
She was asking him to let her stay.
Taking one slow breath, Annie opened the door and stepped out into the warm Mississippi morning. The gravel crunched beneath her sandals as she made her way toward the house. Every step felt louder than it should have, the quiet of the property wrapping around her until all she could hear was the distant hum of cicadas and the steady thud of her own heartbeat.
The stillness she’d admired from the car suddenly felt enormous. She climbed the porch steps, smoothed trembling hands down the front of her dress, then raised one hand and knocked.
The door opened.
Elijah stood there barefoot, wearing nothing but gray sweatpants that hung low on his hips. His hair looked like he’d run his hands through it more than once after waking up.
Annie forgot how to breathe for a second.
She’d known he was built. Seeing him at Stack’s had made that impossible to miss and the cookout had only confirmed it. But those had been glimpses. This was the first time she’d seen him like this in years. Morning light stretched across his shoulders and chest, catching the definition carved into him in a way she’d never been prepared for. Her gaze dropped lower before she could stop it, lingering for the briefest heartbeat at the print in his pants. From what she could see, he was thick, long, and it curv—
Girl.
Annie, please.
Heat rushed into her cheeks. She dragged her eyes back up, silently scolding herself for staring. That’s when she noticed the fresh white gauze wrapped across his knuckles.
Annie’s breath caught.
There hadn’t been a bandage yesterday.
Yesterday there had only been the sickening sound of Elijah’s fist connecting with Isoo’s face. The shouting that followed. Aunt Cheryl screaming his name. Blood streaked across his knuckles as he stood in the middle of the yard, breathing so hard she almost didn’t recognize him for a moment. Guilt twisted low in her stomach. She hated that he was hurt. Hated even more that she’d been the reason.
Neither of them moved or spoke.
Annie couldn’t explain what looked different about him at first. He was still Elijah. Still broad shouldered. Still standing there with that quiet way of looking at people that always made her feel like he noticed more than he let on. Then she realized it wasn’t his appearance at all. It was whatever had happened after he’d driven away from Aunt Cheryl’s house.
Something had reached him.
The tightness she’d grown so used to seeing around his eyes was gone. The anger he’d been carrying no longer seemed to sit just beneath the surface, waiting for the smallest excuse to rise again. In its place was something quieter. He looked tired. Honest. Like he’d finally stopped fighting something that had exhausted him for far too long.
He listened to it.
His fingers flexed once at his side, almost imperceptibly, as though he were resisting the urge to reach for her. His eyes never left hers. Not once.
Her rehearsed speech disappeared. Every carefully chosen sentence she’d repeated to herself during the drive over dissolved the second she looked into his eyes.
She swallowed.
“Hi.”
The word came out softer than she’d intended.
She drew another breath.
“Elijah, I…”
He didn’t let her finish.
She came.
To him.
She didn’t wait for him to call or wait for him to come to her. She was here. Standing on his porch. Looking at him with the same uncertain hope she’d carried at the cookout.
Something inside him finally gave way. Smoke’s hand shot out, fingers curling around her wrist and pulled her inside. Annie barely had time to say anything else before he pulled her against him.
Hard.
After all these years of wondering if he’d ever hold her again, he needed to know she was real. She fit against him exactly the way she always had.
His eyes squeezed shut.
A shaky breath escaped him before he could stop it as he buried his face in the crook of her neck.
And there she was.
The same soft scent he’d spent years trying to remember whenever he closed his eyes. He’d forgotten the perfume she’d worn. Forgotten the shampoo she’d used.
But somehow…
Annie had always just smelled like Annie. Warm. Familiar.
Home.
His arms tightened around her, holding her so close she could probably feel his heartbeat hammering against his ribs.
“Elijah…” she breathed, her arms already winding around his bare back.
He only held her tighter.
Annie breathed him in without thinking. Soap. Laundry detergent. Something unmistakably Elijah that no amount of time had managed to erase.
She’d tried to remember it a hundred different nights. She wondered if she’d imagined it. She hadn’t. It was still there.
For a long while they stayed like that. Everything they’d spent years carrying seemed to settle somewhere between them in the quiet.
Annie pulled back just enough to look up at him.
“I had to see you because I—”
Again, he couldn’t let her finish. His hand slid gently along her jaw before settling at the back of her neck.
Then he kissed her.
It wasn’t careful. It wasn’t hesitant. It was the kiss of a man who had spent time convincing himself he didn’t need this, only to discover he’d been wrong every single day.
Annie answered him immediately. Her fingers curled into his shoulders as she kissed him back, both of them trying and failing to steady their breathing.
“Elijah, I—”
“Later,” he murmured against her lips.
She laughed softly through a shaky breath. “But—”
“Later.”
Before she could protest again, he kissed her once more.
This one started gently.
It didn’t stay that way.
The relief of finding her here, that she’d come to him instead of leaving again, swept through him with a force he could no longer contain. His hand found hers and laced their fingers together while the other settled at her waist, drawing her closer until there wasn’t an inch of space left between them.
Without breaking the kiss, Smoke eased her backward. Annie followed him without thinking, her hands sliding from his shoulders to the back of his neck as she gave him one slow backwards step after another. The door shut behind her with a muted click, and a second later her back met the front door with the softest thud. A quiet laugh warmed the kiss, small and breathless, as though she’d realized somewhere between the porch and the foyer, she wasn’t the only one who’d been imagining this moment.
The kiss deepened.
Years of missing her, of unanswered questions, and convincing himself he didn’t need her diminished the second she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him with the same certainty. When they finally broke apart just enough to breathe, Annie couldn’t stop smiling.
“Elijah…”
“Fuck.” His voice came out low and unsteady, the single word carrying more relief than frustration. He rested his forehead against hers, his eyes closing for a moment. “Not now, Annie.”
He opened his eyes again. His thumb traced slowly along her lips.
“Just… let me have this first.”
She smiled at him—small, uncertain, the same smile that had undone him all those years ago. He traced his thumb across her cheek as if committing her to memory. Then she leaned into his touch, and he kissed her again, slower than before.
But that restraint lasted all of five seconds.
Relief gave way to hunger.
Annie gasped when the kiss intensified. Smoke swallowed the sound, one hand fisting in the fabric at her waist, the other cupping the back of her neck to tilt her head exactly how he needed it. Years of pride and wanting poured into teeth and tongue.
She kissed him back just as fiercely, fingers clawing at his bare shoulders, nails biting into skin. When he finally let her breathe, words she couldn’t form gave way to moans as he shoved the straps of her dress down her arms and dragged his mouth down her throat, sucking hard. He’d imagined holding her like this so many times that the reality almost hurt.
He lifted her like she weighed nothing, her legs wrapping around his waist on instinct, dress riding up around her hips. He slammed her back against the door with a low, hungry growl, the hard line of him grinding against the soaked cotton of her panties like he was trying to fuck her through the fabric.
“I been fuckin’ dyin’ witout you,” he rasped against her throat, voice rough and wrecked.
His hands were everywhere at once— rough and possessive. One palmed her breast hard, squeezing, pinching her nipple until she cried out. The other gripped her ass, fingers digging in deep enough to bruise as he rolled his hips, dragging his manhood right over her clit again and again.
“I missed you,” he growled, teeth scraping her collarbone. “Missed this. I’ve missed how you sound when I touch you.”
Annie’s hands were frantic, sliding down his stomach, shoving at the waistband of his sweatpants until his thickness sprang free, flushed and leaking. She wrapped her fingers around him and stroked once, hard and confident, but then froze for half a second.
Her eyes widened. Damn… he’s bigger than I remembered.
Smoke noticed instantly. That familiar smirk tugged at his lips as he watched her reaction.
“Elijah—”
He didn’t wait. Couldn’t. He hooked his fingers in her panties and ripped them clean to the side, then lined up, and thrust into her in one long stroke that buried him deep in her guts.
Annie’s head thunked back against the door with a broken sob. “Ahhh fuck— Eli—!”
He didn’t give her time to adjust. He fucked her like the world was ending— hips snapping hard and fast, the wet slap of skin on skin echoing through the quiet house. Every powerful thrust punched a desperate sound out of her; broken moans, sharp gasps, his name like a prayer and a curse. Smoke chased every single one, angling his hips to grind against that spongy spot deep inside her that made her thighs quake around his waist.
“Still so tight,” he panted hotly against her ear, one hand sliding between their sweaty bodies to rub her swollen clit in tight, rough circles. “This pussy still know me.”
“Yesss!” she gasped, nails raking down his back hard. “Oh — fuuuck — yesss!”
He kissed her again, messy and desperate, swallowing her cries as he pounded into her harder. The door rattled violently behind her. The picture frame beside them crashed to the floor, glass shattering.
Neither of them cared.
He needed to undo her, and needed her to undo him right back.
Her walls gripped him like a vice, thighs locking tight as her whole body seized up. She wailed his name against his mouth, trembling uncontrollably. The feeling dragged Smoke right over the edge with her. He buried himself inside, hips stuttering as he flooded her with thick, hot pulses, groaning her name like a man finally coming home.
They stayed locked together, shaking, breathing ragged. For so long, every memory of her had ended with goodbye. This one didn’t. No more wondering where she’d gone. No replaying old memories until they blurred together. Just Annie, warm and real in his arms. He hadn’t realized how much of himself he’d left behind until he felt it return.
Smoke kissed her again; slowly, but no less desperate. His voice came out low and rough against her mouth, thick with hunger and love. “Look at me.”
She did.
“I wanna fuck you all day,” he muttered, hips giving a lazy roll that made her whimper. He was still buried deep, still hard and throbbing inside her. “I’m gon’ make you feel me for weeks. Make you cum until you can’t remember how to leave me again.”
Annie’s breath hitched hard.
“You gon’ let me have my way wit’ you?”
His words sent a fresh wave of heat rushing through her body, making her clench around him involuntarily. She was soaked, throbbing, and completely undone.
“Yes,” she breathed, her voice still trembling. “You don’t have to hold it in anymore. Give it to me.”
Her words lit a fire in his eyes. That was all the permission he needed.
He kissed her hard. His sweats caught around one ankle as he kicked them off, nearly stumbling in the process. Annie laughed against his mouth, and he only held her tighter as he carried her toward the living room.
The second they crossed into the living room, he pulled out of her with a wet sound that made Annie whimper at the loss. He spun her around and bent her over the arm of the couch, yanking her hips back so her ass was presented to him like an offering. Her dress was bunched uselessly around her waist, panties ripped to the side, his thick cum leaking down her thighs.
Look at her, Smoke thought. Dripping of me. Still mine.
He dropped to his knees behind her, spread her plump cheeks wide, and buried his face deep between them without hesitation. His tongue dragged slowly from her swollen nub all the way up to her creamy hole, tasting their mixed release.
Annie’s legs shook instantly.
“Mmm, you taste good, girl—” he groaned into her pussy, the vibration making her moan loud. He ate her like a man possessed — long, sloppy licks, tight sucks to her throbbing pearl, then tongue curling deep into her leaking center. He spread her wider, tongue reaching deeper, mouth covered with her juices running down his chin.
Annie was losing it. “Oh my God— Elijahhh! Right there, baby— don—don’t stop!”
And didn’t.
He added two thick fingers, curling them just right while his mouth focused on her engorged clit, sucking and flicking relentlessly. The wet, obscene sounds of him eating her filled the room. He groaned against her pussy the whole time, like he couldn’t get enough of the taste of them together.
Annie’s thighs started trembling harder. “I’m— I’m—!”
She came with a broken sob, squirting against his tongue and soaking his face. Smoke didn’t pull away. He kept licking and fingering her through it, drawing out every last shudder until she was whimpering and twitching.
Only then did he pull back, line himself up, and slam into her in one ruthless stroke.
Annie cried out, fingers clawing at the couch cushions as he set a punishing rhythm. The slaps of skin on skin filled the room — shameless, loud… perfect.
“Oh shiiit,” he growled, one hand smacking down on her ass hard, the other hand gripping her braids like reins. “Pussy gripping me like it missed me.”
“She did, baby” Annie moaned, pushing back to meet his thrusts. “She missed you so fuckin’ much.”
He fucked her harder, hips snapping forward, balls slapping against her clit. The couch scraped across the floor with every powerful drive, knocking into the coffee table in front of them. Books tumbled. A remote clattered. A glass vase wobbled and nearly fell on the hardwood.
They didn’t stop.
Annie came for the third time, walls squeezing him tight as she pushed back against him desperately.
Before she could fully recover from the orgasm, Smoke pulled out of her, leaving Annie draped over the armrest, thighs trembling with his cum dripping down her legs. He sat down heavily on the leather couch, legs spread, his thick shaft hard and glistening. His eyes locked on her as he gave the low, rough command—
“Ride my dick.”
Annie turned around, still shaking and breathless, and climbed onto his lap without a second of hesitation. Her knees sank into the cushions as she sank down onto him in one smooth, greedy motion. She didn’t ease into it. She rode him — rolling her hips in sinful circles before bouncing with purpose.
Damn, Smoke thought, eyes glued to where they were joined, watching himself disappear inside her over and over. When the hell she learn to fuck like this?
Annie braced her hands on his chest, braids swinging wildly as she worked him. Her breasts bounced with every drop. She leaned forward, lips brushing his ear.
“You like that?” she purred, voice husky with challenge and need. “Feel how deep I’m takin’ you?
She showin’ the fuck out, he thought, a dark spike of jealousy twisting with white-hot arousal. But he couldn’t deny how good it felt. His hands gripped her ass, guiding her faster.
Annie sat up straighter, planting her feet on the couch so she could move with purpose. The angle drew a broken sound from him, and for a moment triumph warmed her chest.
I thought about this every night, she thought. About making you forget everything, but me.
Then, uninvited, another thought slipped in.
Had Jada ever looked at him like this? Fucked him this good? Learned all his spots that make him straight-up fold?”
The questions stung almost as quickly as they came.
No.
She pushed them away.
Not now.
Tonight, the only thing she saw in his eyes was her.
Smoke watched her, his grip tightening instinctively at her hips as she moved above him. Something flickered across her face—so brief he almost missed it. Uncertainty. Gone as quickly as it appeared.
He stared up at her in quiet amazement. The shy girl whose cheeks would grow hot when he kissed her too long had disappeared. In her place was a woman who knew exactly what she wanted.
And what she wanted in this moment…
Was him.
He sat up slightly, one strong arm wrapping around her back to pull her closer. With his free hand, he shoved the bunched-up yellow dress higher up her torso, exposing more of her skin. The strapless bra she’d been wearing was already half-off — one cup pushed down from when he’d played with them earlier. Smoke quickly unclasped it and tossed it aside, fully freeing her breasts.
He lifted one heavy breast to his mouth, lips closing around her nipple as he sucked hard, tongue swirling and flicking over the sensitive peak. He switched to the other, giving it the same hungry treatment— sucking, licking, gently biting just enough to make her cry out.
Annie moaned loudly, her head falling back in pleasure. Her fingers threaded through his hair, holding him against her chest as she kept riding him, hips rolling and bouncing faster. “Yes— oh God, Elijah… just like that,” she whimpered, grinding down harder on him. “Don’t stop, baby… I love it.”
Smoke groaned against her soft, warm flesh, the vibration shooting through her body. He kept worshipping her breasts, palming their weight, squeezing, licking, and sucking while she rode him like she was trying to put a root on his soul.
“Fuck, Annie…” he groaned, against her breast, voice breaking. “Just like that, baby.”
That praise made her ride him even harder. The couch creaked dangerously beneath them. She rocked forward with one particularly enthusiastic bounce, and his instinctive reach for her threw them both off balance. They toppled over the side of the couch together, landing in a tangled heap on the rug, the breath rushing out of both of them.
That didn’t stop them.
Smoke came hard on the floor, burying himself and flooding her again while she clenched around him, milking every drop.
For half a minute, they could only stare.
Then Annie laughed.
It started as one startled sound before spilling into something bigger, brighter, until she was laughing so hard she had to hide her face against his shoulder. Smoke blinked at her before a laugh of his own escaped, low and rough, shaking loose from somewhere he hadn’t realized had been locked tight for years.
“Well…” she managed between breaths, “that was graceful.”
“Ain’t never claimed to be.”
She looked up at him then, really looked at him. The smile she’d been trying to hold back spread across her face, soft and impossibly familiar. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d heard her laugh like that. Maybe because every memory after she’d left had ended too soon.
His own smile faded into something quieter as he brushed a braid back from her face.
“I’ve missed you,” he admitted, almost too quietly to hear.
Annie’s smile softened. “I missed you.”
The laughter faded, leaving them wrapped in companionable quiet. They remained on the rug. For the first time since she’d knocked on his door, there was nothing to chase, nothing to prove. Just the two of them on the living room floor, exactly where they were supposed to be.
Their eyes met.
The smile on Annie’s lips slowly disappeared, replaced by something warmer, deeper. Smoke’s thumb traced along her cheek almost absentmindedly, and the room seemed to shrink until there was nothing left but the space between them.
The frantic edge between them softened, if only for a moment. He looked at her the way a man looks at something he’d spent years believing he’d never see again. She reached up and brushed her fingers across his face, and neither of them spoke. The silence said everything the last eight years never had.
Then Smoke scooped her up and carried her toward the bedroom, kissing her slow and deep the whole way.
Smoke carried Annie straight to the bed. He laid her down like she was something precious, even as hunger burned in his eyes. For a moment, he just hovered over her breathing her in.
“I love you.” The words slipped out before he could stop them. “A nigga, never stopped lovin’ you. Not for one fuckin’ day.”
Annie stayed quiet. Instead her hand moved to his face, fingertips gliding over the line of his jaw as though she needed to make sure memory hadn’t lied to her all these years.
He closed his eyes instinctively.
A watery laugh escaped her. “You still do that.”
His brow furrowed. “Do what?”
“Close your eyes when I touch you.” She smiled through tears. “You always did.”
His own smile came quietly. “Guess some things don’t change.”
He brushed away the tear clinging to her cheek with his thumb.
A tender smile tugged at Annie’s lips. “You still do that too.”
“Do what?”
“You never wipe my tears away. You always… brush ‘em away. Like you scared you’ll hurt me.”
Smoke let out a quiet, disbelieving laugh. “Guess I am.”
Annie held his gaze. “I know.” Her hand settled over his heart. “And I love you for it.”
His chest tightened.
She smiled, tears slipping free again. “I never stopped loving you either.”
Smoke didn’t say anything. He simply looked at her. Really looked at her. The years had added new stories to her face. There was a quiet confidence in her now that hadn’t been there at seventeen. She carried herself differently. She smiled at him. The left corner of her mouth lifted first just like it always had.
His own smile answered before he could stop it.
“What?” she asked softly.
“Nothin’.”
She smiled knowingly. “You starin’.”
A corner of his mouth lifted. “I know.”
She laughed quietly. “You always did that.”
“Did what?”
“Just… look at me.” Her smile softened. “Like you were tryin’ to memorize me.”
He didn’t answer. He just kept looking.
Annie’s heart squeezed.
“See?” Another beat passed. “And then…” Her thumb brushed lightly across his jaw. “You get real quiet whenever your heart gets too full.”
His eyes searched hers. “You still know me.”
She smiled. “I never forgot you.”
The words settled between them. Annie lifted her hand and traced the faint scar that disappeared beneath his beard along his jaw.
“You didn’t have this one before.”
“No.”
“When?”
“A few years ago.”
Her thumb lingered there for a moment before drifting across his cheek. “You’ve got a few gray hairs.”
Smoke let out a surprised laugh. “Do I now?”
“Mm-hmm.” Her smile widened. “I kinda like ’em.”
He shook his head, smiling despite himself.
“I was worried,” she admitted quietly.
His expression softened. “About what?”
“That I’d built you up in my head.” Her eyes searched his face as if she were still making sure. “I kept wondering if I’d remember you wrong.”
He reached up and tucked a loose braid behind her ear. “And?”
A tear escaped before she could stop it. “I didn’t.”
He caught her hand and kissed her palm. “And you still reach for my face first.”
She blinked. “I do?”
“Every time.”
She smiled, almost embarrassed. “I didn’t even realize.”
“You never did.”
Quiet fell between them as they took each other in. Their eyes wandered without hurry, tracing every familiar feature and every subtle change time had left behind. Some things were new. Others remembered. Still others simply rediscovered. Not because either of them had forgotten. But because after eight years apart, the real thing was infinitely better than the version memory had tried so desperately to preserve.
Annie smiled first. It wasn’t the bright, teasing smile she’d worn as a teenager. It was quieter. Surer. The smile of a woman who no longer had to wonder whether the man she loved still loved her back.
She reached for his hand, threading their fingers together. “We’re really here,” she marveled, almost to herself.
Smoke nodded once. “Yeah.” His thumb stroked slowly across her knuckles. “No more goodbyes.”
Her eyes filled again, but this time she smiled through them. “No more.”
Annie leaned forward first, their noses brushing. They stayed like that for another heartbeat, neither of them in any hurry to rush what they’d waited so long to have.
Then she kissed him. Slow and certain. His mouth answered hers. Soft. Patient. Nothing like the frantic hunger that had consumed them earlier. His thumb traced lazy circles across the back of her hand while their lips moved together, each kiss lingering just a little longer than the last.
She smiled against his mouth. He smiled too, then he pulled back. Only an inch.
Annie frowned. “What?”
Smoke looked at her before lowering his eyes to where their fingers were still threaded together. His thumb stroked slowly across her knuckles.
“We can’t do this.”
Everything inside Annie dropped.
The smile disappeared from her face.
“What?”
Her mind immediately started racing.
What do you mean we can’t do this?
After everything?
After you carried me upstairs?
Nigga! After you just had your whole fuckin’ face in my—
Her stomach lurched.
Smoke looked back up just in time to watch every emotion flash across her face. Confusion, panic, and then hurt.
“Nah.” He squeezed her hand. “Not like that.”
Annie blinked.
He let out the smallest laugh. “I can see yo’ ass over there spiralin’.”
Heat rushed into her cheeks. “I wasn’t—”
“You was.”
She opened her mouth. Closed it again. “Maybe a little.”
The corner of his mouth lifted.
She let out a shaky breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. “Oh.” Now she felt ridiculous. “What do you mean, then?”
He exhaled quietly. “I mean…” His jaw flexed once before he finally found the words. “I don’t wanna keep lovin’ you the way we used to.”
Confusion flickered across her features. “We loved each other.”
“We did.”
“So…”
“Sooo we spent eight years missin’ each other because neither one of us knew how to ask hard questions.”
The words landed hard.
Smoke rubbed a hand across his face before looking back at her. “I keep thinkin’ about yesterday.”
Annie chest caved in thinking about the cookout.
He nodded. “I got mad.”
She looked down. “I know.”
“I ain’t talkin’ ’bout Isoo.”
She looked back up.
“I’m talkin’ about me.” He laughed once, but there wasn’t any humor in it. “I drove home tellin’ myself I knew what happened.” He looked at her. “I ain’t know a fuckin’ thing.”
Annie felt something tighten in her chest. “I didn’t either.”
He nodded slowly. “That’s the problem.”
Silence stretched between them. Unhurried.
Necessary.
Smoke turned her hand over, studying the lines in her palm as if they might tell him something the last eight years hadn’t. “Every time somethin’ got hard,” His thumb moved absentmindedly across her skin. “We start guessin’.”
Annie didn’t respond, because he was right. She’d guessed he stopped loving her. He’d guessed she’d moved on. She’d guessed he didn’t care enough to come after her. He’d guessed she was happier without him. Neither of them had actually known.
Smoke lifted his eyes to hers. “I don’t wanna guess no more.”
Her throat tightened. “Neither do I.”
He nodded once. “Before we,” he smiled faintly. “Before we make love again…”
Those two words alone made her pussy jump.
Not have sex.
Not fuck.
Make love.
“I think we owe ourselves the truth.”
Annie swallowed. She suddenly wasn’t sure she wanted it. The truth had a way of changing things. “What if,” she began quietly.
He waited.
“What if the truth hurts?”
Smoke didn’t say anything. Instead, he reached up and brushed a loose braid behind her ear. “It already has.”
Her eyes filled with tears.
He smiled sadly. “I don’t think it can hurt us worse than the years apart did.”
A tear escaped before she could stop it. She nodded. “Okay.”
Smoke took a slow breath. Then another. When he finally spoke, his voice had gone quieter than she’d ever heard it. “Tell me straight up… you never got ’em?”
Annie knew exactly what he meant. Her eyes filled almost instantly. “No.”
He didn’t move or blink. Just looked at her. Like he was searching for something.
Her forehead creased. “When, did you write?”
“Like a month after you left.”
Pause.
“Then the next week.”
Another pause.
“And the week after that.”
Annie stared at him.
“I wrote damn near every Sunday.”
Her lips parted.
“I never…” She shook her head slowly. “Elijah… I never got any letters.”
His shoulders lowered. Not in surprise. Almost…recognition. “You didn’t.”
She shook her head harder. “No.” Tears welled in her eyes again. “You know I would’ve answered.”
“I know.”
“I would’ve.”
“I know.”
“I would’ve written you every day if I’d known—”
“I know.”
The certainty in his voice stopped her. She searched his face. “You… believe me?”
A sad smile touched the corner of his mouth. “I know when you lyin’.” His thumb brushed slowly across her knuckles. “And this ain’t it.”
Another tear slipped down her cheek.
He looked away for a moment, his jaw working once before he spoke again. “I spent a long time tryin’ to convince myself you did.” His voice had gone quieter. “It hurt less than believin’ somethin’ happened to ’em.”
Silence fell between them. Neither of them knew what to do with eight years suddenly sitting between them.
Annie watched him. She could see him so clearly now. Seventeen years old. Sitting on the edge of his bed after another phone call. Wondering why she hadn’t said anything. Wondering if she’d read every word he’d poured onto those pages…and decided they weren’t worth answering.
The thought made her chest ache.
A question surfaced before she could stop it. “Then why didn’t you ask me?”
Smoke looked up.
“When we’d talk.” She frowned, trying to understand. “Why didn’t you just ask if I got ’em?”
For the first time since they’d started talking, something almost shy crossed his face. He rubbed the back of his neck. “I was tryin’ to be romantic and shit.”
Despite everything, Annie let out the smallest laugh. “You?”
His shoulders lifted in an almost embarrassed shrug. “Stack.”
She blinked. “What about Stack?”
A corner of his mouth twitched. “He told me girls liked gettin’ letters.”
Another laugh escaped her. Of course he had. She could practically hear Stack saying it. “Trust me, bro. Bitches be eatin’ that shit up.”
Smoke huffed a quiet laugh of his own. “Said it’d make you smile.”
“It would’ve.” She answered so quickly neither of them had time to think about it.
His smile faded. “I know.”
He looked back down at their hands.
“At first, when you didn’t say nothin’…” He shrugged. “I figured maybe I messed up the address.” Another pause. “Or maybe I ain’t put enough stamps on it.”
Annie smiled sadly.
“I dunno. I never mailed nothin’ before.”
She laughed through fresh tears.
A small smile returned to his face. “It was supposed to be a surprise.”
His thumb continued its slow path across the back of her hand. “I didn’t wanna ruin it by askin’. So I waited.” His voice grew softer. “Figured it’d show up.” Another pause. “When it didn’t…” He swallowed. “I wrote another one.”
Annie felt her throat tighten.
“And when you still didn’t say nothin’…”
He looked away. “I was hopin’ maybe the mail was just slow.” A sad smile crossed his face. “So…” He shrugged again. “I wrote another one.”
She could picture it. Sunday after Sunday. Smoke sitting somewhere with a sheet of notebook paper. Trying to close the distance between Mississippi and North Carolina one page at a time.
“I kept thinkin’…” His voice almost disappeared. “The next one’ll get there.”
The tears she’d been holding back spilled over again.
“And after a while?” He laughed quietly at himself. “I figured…” He shook his head. “You prolly thought the shit was corny and just didn’t know how to tell me.”
Annie stared at him. Then reached up and cupped his face. “Elijah…” Her thumb brushed over his cheek. “I’ve been in love with you since I was fourteen.”
His eyes closed.
“There wasn’t a single thing you could’ve written…” Her voice cracked. “…that I would’ve thought was corny.”
Smoke covered her hand with his.
The room fell quiet. Neither knowing what to say.
Then—
Annie covered her mouth with her hand.
“Oh God…”
Her thoughts scattered in every direction at once. Letters. There had been letters. Letters she’d never seen. That couldn’t be right. Could it?
She squeezed her eyes shut, reaching backwards through memories she’d spent years trying not to touch. The mailbox. Her mother always checking it first.
Smoke watched as something began to unfold across her face. He hated what he was about to ask. But if they were doing this, being honest with one another.
They were doing all of it.
“Did your mama ever like me?” He asked quietly.
The question landed like a stone.
Annie opened her mouth automatically. “Of course she—” The words stopped.
Because…
Did she?
She thought about every Sunday afternoon Elijah would come over. Her mama had always been polite. Always smiling.
But…
There had always been something underneath it. Little comments Annie had dismissed at seventeen because they’d sounded less like warnings and more like motherly advice.
You don’t need to get too serious this young.”
“Don’t build your whole world around a boy.”
“That boy’s handsome, Anissa. Girls are always gonna be after somebody that looks like him.”
“Just… don’t be surprised if one day he realizes he got options.”
At the time, they’d sounded…practical. Protective. The kind of things mothers were supposed to say. She’d never questioned them. Why would she? She’d trusted her mama. And if she was honest…She’d already believed some of them.
Annie had never voiced how much that scared her. Instead, she’d smiled and quietly wondered how long it would take before he realized he could do better.
“I…” Her voice broke. “I don’t know.”
Smoke didn’t say, I knew it. He didn’t say, She threw them away. He simply reached over and took her hand again. “Think about it.”
Annie lowered her head. “I am.”
“I know.”
Annie looked down at their joined hands.
As time passed, she couldn’t bring herself to say anything. Everything she’d believed for eight years felt… unsteady. Not that she’d stopped trusting herself. It was because she wasn’t sure where her own thoughts ended and someone else’s began.
“I think…” Her voice came out barely above a whisper. “I think I already believed some of it.”
Smoke frowned. “Believed what?”
She swallowed hard. “That one day…” She laughed softly, shaking her head at herself. “…you’d realize you could do better than me.”
Smoke stared at her with complete disbelief. “Annie…”
She couldn’t look at him. “You’ve always been…” She searched for the words. “Beautiful.”
His eyebrows lifted.
“You probably don’t even know it.”
“I don’t.”
“You didn’t have to.” A watery smile touched her mouth before disappearing just as quickly. “Everybody else knew.”
Memories came rushing back. Girls hovering around his locker. Finding excuses to borrow pencils they didn’t need. Laughing a little too hard at shit that wasn't funny. Standing just a little too close.
“I used to watch girls look at you.” Her fingers tightened around his. “I’d pretend it didn’t bother me.”
His chest ached.
“I’d smile.”
She blinked away another tear. “And then I’d go home and wonder how long it’d be before you noticed one of ’em back.”
Smoke let out the smallest, saddest laugh. “Ann…”
“No.” She shook her head. “Let me finish.”
He nodded.
“When Mama would say things…” Annie’s eyes went towards the window. “About you being handsome. About girls always chasing boys like you. To not build my whole life around somebody…” She sighed. “I thought she was preparing me.”
“For what?”
She finally looked at him. “For the day you left.”
The words hung between them.
“So when the calls got shorter…”
Smoke’s expression changed.
“When we didn’t talk every night anymore…”
His thumb slowed against her hand.
“When days started passing instead of hours.” She shrugged helplessly. “I figured…” Her voice cracked. “…maybe it was happening.”
Smoke closed his eyes. “Bae…”
She shook her head. “I didn’t blame you.”
That surprised him. “I blamed me.”
His eyes opened wide.
“I thought…” She laughed through tears. “Maybe Mama was right.”
His stomach twisted.
“‘Cause why wouldn’t a boy that looked like you eventually find somebody prettier?”
He reached for her face before he even knew he was moving. His palm cupped her cheek. “Woman. Listen to me.”
She met his eyes.
“I ain’t never looked for nobody prettier.”
Fresh tears slipped down her face.
“There wasn’t nobody prettier.”
He smiled sadly. “There still ain’t.”
She closed her eyes. They didn’t speak. The moment was heavy with truths they’d never been brave enough to say when they were seventeen.
Annie covered her mouth as another tear slipped free. She opened her eyes again and stared down at their joined hands, trying to make sense of a past that no longer looked the way she’d remembered it. Every certainty she’d carried for years had begun to crack. His silence. The unanswered calls. The empty mailbox. Her mother’s gentle reassurances.
None of it fit together anymore.
His thumb continued its slow path across the back of her hand, the same absentminded stroke he’d always done whenever she was overwhelmed. Seventeen-year-old Annie would’ve smiled without thinking.
Twenty-five-year-old Annie nearly broke because he still remembered.
She drew a shaky breath. “There…” She laughed softly through the tears. “There’s something I still don’t understand.”
Smoke lifted his eyes to hers. “What?”
She drew in a shaky breath. “I believe you.”
Smoke looked at her.
“About the letters.” She squeezed his hand. “You never stopped lovin’ me.”
His thumb brushed over her knuckles.
“Thinkin’ I was the prettiest girl in the world.”
A small smile tugged at one corner of his mouth. “You are.”
Annie smiled through fresh tears before it slowly faded. “But…” She searched his face. “There’s still one thing I don’t understand.”
Smoke nodded. “Ask me.”
She hesitated. “I understand movin’ on.”
His expression softened.
“Eight years…” She shook her head. “That’s a long time.” Another breath. “I would’ve never expected you to spend your whole life waitin’ on me.”
“I just…”
Her fingers tightened around his. Then she blurted it out.
“Why Jada?”
Smoke looked down. It wasn’t because he didn’t want to answer. It was because he’d wondered the same thing himself more than once.
“I didn’t start datin’ Jada after you left.”
Annie stared.
“Shit…” A humorless laugh escaped him. “I didn’t really date nobody.”
“You didn’t?”
He shook his head. “Not seriously.”
She blinked.
“I wasn’t lookin’.” He shrugged one shoulder. “I worked. Spent time with Stack, Mike, Mama, and Uncle Lewis. Lived my life.” He paused. “I missed you.” His thumb traced absent circles against the back of her hand. “Years passed.”
Neither of them spoke.
Then…
“Jada didn’t come around till later.” He sighed. “She just…” he shrugged. “Kept showin’ up.”
Annie listened quietly.
“We’d run into each other at job sites. She’d call and ask if I wanted to grab somethin’ to eat. I’d say no.” A faint smile crossed his face. “Then she’d ask again and again.” His smile disappeared. “Eventually…” He looked down at their hands. “I got tired of sayin’ no.”
“I figured maybe…” He swallowed. “Maybe this was what movin’ on was supposed to look like.”
Annie watched him carefully.
“But it never felt right.” He laughed softly. “I kept waitin’ on it to.”
Her heart squeezed. She hesitated before asking the question that had lived inside her since yesterday.
“You knew she liked you.”
Smoke frowned. “What?”
“You knew.”
She searched his face. “Even back then.”
His expression changed.
“I told you.” Annie paused. “I told you I couldn’t stand her.”
Smoke nodded slowly. “You did.”
“So why didn’t you ask me why?”
His shoulders dropped. “I don’t know.”
“No,” She squeezed his hand gently. “You do.”
They simply looked at each other, saying nothing.
Finally…
“’Cause I thought it was some female bullshit.”
Annie closed her eyes.
“I thought y’all just didn’t get along over some petty girl shit.” He shook his head at himself. “She said this.’ ‘She said that.’ I never stopped to think there might’ve been more to it.” He looked ashamed. “I never thought to ask.”
Annie nodded once. “No, you didn’t.” Her voice wasn’t angry. Just sad. A sadness that sounded older than either of them.
“When you’d walk away…”
Smoke looked up.
“She’d wait until you couldn’t hear.”
His brow furrowed.
“Then she’d come stand beside me.”
He stayed quiet, listening.
“She always smiled.” A humorless laugh slipped from Annie. “Always.”
Her gaze dropped to the floor, following memories she’d spent years trying not to revisit.
“At first I thought she was just bein’ nice.” She swallowed. “‘Y’all are so cute together,’ she’d say.”
Smoke frowned.
“‘You’re lucky he noticed you first.’”
His expression sobered.
“‘You know Smoke could have anybody he wanted, right?’”
The weight of what had been said settled over them both.
Annie laughed again, though there wasn’t an ounce of humor in it. “And when I wouldn’t say nothin’,” she looked down at their joined hands. “She’d smile, then say… ‘I’m just sayin’… don’t take him for granted.’”
Smoke’s jaw flexed.
“Then she’d tell me college was gonna be full of prettier girls.” Annie blinked hard against another wave of tears. “What if you met women who were smarter than me?”
Another pause.
“More accomplished.” Her voice grew smaller. “Better.”
Smoke just stared at her. She watched the pieces come together one by one.
“I thought…” She laughed through a shaky breath. “I thought she was tellin’ me the truth.”
His chest tightened. “Annie…”
“Then Mama…” She stopped. The words caught somewhere behind her ribs.
Smoke waited.
“She’d say similar things.”
His eyebrows lifted slightly.
“Not mean.” Annie shook her head. “She thought she was protectin’ me.” She looked away. “Again with the.. ‘don’t build your whole world around a boy.’” A tear slipped down her cheek. “‘Boys like them twins have a lotta choices.’”
Another.
“‘Don’t be the girl sittin’ around waitin’ on some pretty boy to remember you.’”
Smoke closed his eyes. “Anissa…”
“I didn’t hear two different people.” Her voice barely rose above a whisper. “I heard the same thing.” She looked back at him, tears swimming in her eyes. “Over and over and over.” A painful smile crossed her face. “So when your calls got farther apart.” She shrugged helplessly, voice breaking. “I thought everybody else already knew somethin’ I didn’t.”
Smoke didn’t speak. He couldn’t. He reached for her instead, cupping both sides of her face. His thumbs brushed away tears that refused to stop falling.
“No.” The word came immediately. Certain. “I never—not one day—thought I could do better than you.”
He rested his forehead against hers.
“I thought I was the lucky one.”
Annie blinked. “What?”
His thumb brushed her cheek. “You beautiful.” Another slow stroke. “Funny as fuck.” His eyes searched hers. “And when you walk in a room, it be like the sun decided to come with you.”
Tears welled in Annie’s eyes.
“It still do.” He hesitated, then—
“Seventeen-year-old me…” He smiled faintly. “He couldn’t believe the prettiest girl he’d ever seen wanted him.” His eyes glistened. “Twenty-six-year-old me still can’t.”
Annie closed her eyes. His words didn’t erase eight years. They didn’t erase every lie she’d slowly learned to believe. But they did something she’d never expected. They gave those lies another voice to compete with.
Elijah’s.
And for the first time…his voice was louder.
She opened her eyes again. “I wish I’d told you.”
“I wish you’d had too.” He shook his head. “I should’ve been payin’ attention.”
She frowned. “You couldn’t have known.”
“I should’ve asked.” His voice was steady now. “When you told me you didn’t like her…” He let out a slow breath. “I chalked it up to girl stuff.” He shook his head at himself. “I thought y’all just didn’t click.” Another pause. “I should’ve asked why.”
Annie searched his face. “You would’ve believed me?”
He looked almost offended by the question. “I would’ve believed you.” A tear rolled down his cheek. “I just wish I’d given you the chance to tell me.”
Annie wiped his tears away. They were finally saying the things they should’ve said eight years ago.
After a while, Annie laughed softly through her tears. “We really been two dumbass fools since we was seventeen.”
A smile tugged at Smoke’s mouth. “The dumbest.”
She nodded. “So dumb.”
He lifted their joined hands and pressed a lingering kiss against her knuckles.
“But we ain’t no more.”
For the first time since the conversation began, they both laughed together. The weight of finally understanding each other had made room for something lighter.
Annie looked at him again. “There's one more thing.”
“What?”
“You said you wrote me every Sunday.”
“I did.”
“How do you remember that?”
Smoke’s smile faded into something softer. Something almost shy. He looked down for a moment before meeting her eyes again.
“Because I still got ‘em.’”
Annie blinked. “What?”
He looked up again. “The letters.”
Her heart skipped. “You… still have them?”
A small, almost embarrassed smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. He nodded. “Not the ones I mailed.”
She frowned, trying to understand. “Then…”
“The drafts.”
“The drafts?”
Another nod. “I wrote ’em in a notebook first.”
She stared at him. “You made drafts?”
A quiet laugh escaped him. “I had to.”
He lifted one shoulder in a small shrug. “You know my handwritin’s shit.”
“It wasn’t that bad.”
“It was.”
His smile lingered for only a second before fading. “My hands…” His fingers flexed unconsciously against hers. “They’d start shakin’ when I got frustrated.”
Annie felt her chest tighten. She remembered. He didn’t like talking about it, but she’d seen it. The way he’d grip a pencil a little harder whenever a test got difficult. How he’d tuck one hand into the pocket of his hoodie after getting called on in class. In the afternoons she’d quietly slide his notebook closer to herself without saying a word whenever his frustration got the better of him. She’d never thought much about it then.
It was simply part of Elijah.
“I’d write somethin’,” he continued quietly, “fuck it up…” A faint smile crossed his face. “Get pissed and tear the page out.” He looked down again. “Start over.” Another pause. “Eventually I started usin’ a notebook.” He shrugged. “It was easier, I could scratch stuff out without wastin’ paper.” His thumb continued its absentminded path over the back of her hand. “Once I figured out what I wanted to say…” He smiled to himself. “I’d copy it onto the good paper.”
Annie could see it—him at the little desk in his bedroom. Head bent low. Tongue pressed against the inside of his cheek the way it always had whenever he concentrated. Writing. Crossing out. Starting over. Trying to fit an entire week’s worth of missing her onto a few sheets of notebook paper.
“They’re all still there?”
His eyes met hers. “Every one.”
She swallowed hard. “I can’t believe you kept them.”
He was quiet for so long she wondered if he’d answer at all.
Finally—
“I couldn’t throw ’em away.” His voice was barely above a whisper. “They was still you.”
The words stole the breath from her lungs. They sounded exactly like Elijah. Simple and honest. As though there had never been another answer.
Annie broke. They weren’t loud sobs. Just quiet, aching tears as she reached for him again, wrapping both arms around him like she was trying to hold together all the years they’d lost.
“I wanna read them.”
A slow smile spread across his face. “I know.”
The room had gone quiet again.
Smoke glanced toward the closet. “I’ll be right back.”
Annie frowned. “Where you goin’?”
“You’ll see.”
He slipped out of the bed, completely unconcerned by his nakedness.
Annie wasn’t.
Her eyes followed him.
Lord…
Eight years hadn’t been nearly enough time to prepare her for seeing Elijah Moore naked in broad daylight. The muscles across his back rolled as he walked toward the closet, every movement easy and unhurried, as though he hadn’t just turned her entire world upside down.
She smiled to herself. Still beautiful. Maybe even more than he’d been at seventeen.
He disappeared into the walk-in closet for a moment. She heard the faint scrape of something being moved across a shelf.
A box.
Another.
Then—
“There you are.”
He emerged carrying an old black spiral notebook. The corners were bent. The cover had long since faded to more gray than black. He climbed back onto the bed without a word and settled beside her again. For a second, he simply looked at it. His thumb brushed absently over the worn cover. Then he held it out.
Annie looked from the notebook to him. “These are the drafts.”
Her heart skipped. Carefully, she took it from him. The cardboard cover bent softly beneath her fingers. It wasn’t heavy. But somehow it felt like it. She opened it. The first page was messy. Crossed-out words. Half-finished sentences. Entire paragraphs scribbled through before beginning again underneath.
She smiled. “You really weren’t lyin’ about your handwriting.”
Smoke groaned. “I told you.”
She laughed. “It’s terrible.”
“I know.”
“But…” Her thumb traced over one of the scratched-out lines. “It’s kinda adorable.”
Heat crept into the tips of his ears. He looked away.
Annie smiled to herself. She’d almost forgotten. Elijah still blushed. She turned the page. At the top, in careful block letters, he’d written: Sunday. No date. Just… Sunday.
Below it—
Hey Pretty Girl…
The words had been crossed out.
Underneath them—
Hey Annie…
Crossed out again.
Then—
I don’t know how to start these.
Her chest tightened. She kept reading.
Church was long as fuck today.
Pastor Johnson preached fo’ almost an hour and Stack fell asleep halfway through, snorin’ like a muthafucka. Mama smacked him in the back of his head. I laughed.
She smacked me too.
Annie laughed quietly.
Smoke rubbed the back of his neck. “I forgot that was in there.”
She kept reading.
Today Stack made fun of me ‘cause I looked over every time somebody laughed. He said I keep thinkin’ it’s you. I told him to shut his bitch ass up.
…He wasn’t wrong tho.
Aunt Cheryl made gumbo tonight. She packed me enough for three days. I almost asked if I could freeze some for when you came home.
Guess I ain’t used to sayin’ “North Carolina” yet.
Her smile faltered.
Another page.
You would’ve liked the storm tonight. It sounded like the one that knocked our power out sophomore year. I still remember you bein’ scared of the thunder. You said you wasn’t scared.
You was lyin’.
A tear landed on the page. She laughed as she wiped it away. “I was not.”
“You absolutely was.”
“I wasn’t.”
“You climbed in my lap.”
“Why you lyin?”
“You definitely did.”
She smiled through fresh tears. “I was cold.”
Smoke looked at her. “Mhm.”
She bumped his shoulder. “Don’t start.”
A grin flickered across his face before disappearing again.
She turned another page. This one had fewer cross-outs. His handwriting looked steadier.
More confident.
I keep thinkin’ you’ll call tonight. Every time the phone rings, my heart starts actin’ stupid. I hate that Stack notices. He don’t say nothin’ tho.
He just hands me the phone.
I keep catchin’ myself savin’ things to tell you. Stuff Aunt Cheryl says. Things that happened at school. Songs on the radio. Little things that ain’t important to nobody else. Then I remember you ain’t here.
So I guess I’ll tell you next Sunday instead.
Annie covered her mouth. “Wow...”
She hadn’t known. She hadn’t known any of it. Every page was another version of Elijah she’d never gotten to meet. The boy who noticed sunsets because she would’ve liked them. Who saved funny stories all week because he wanted to tell her. Who missed her so much he wrote about ordinary things just to make her feel like she was still part of his days.
She looked over at him. He hadn’t said a word. Just watched her. Waiting. Almost nervously. As though he wasn’t sure what she’d think. She reached over and threaded her fingers through his—without looking away from the notebook.
“I would’ve answered every one.”
His eyes closed. “I know.”
“No.” She shook her head. “I don’t think you do.”
Another page.
Another Sunday.
Another week he’d loved her.
Another conversation they’d never gotten to have.
Annie’s fingers rested against the worn cover for a long moment before she gently closed the notebook. Neither of them reached for it again. It had answered the question she’d been carrying for eight years.
He’d written her every Sunday she’d been gone. Neither of them spoke. Nothing else needed proving.
Annie turned toward him. Smoke was already looking at her. He hadn’t asked what she thought of the letters. He hadn’t needed to. Somehow, he’d always known her well enough to read the answers on her face.
Her hand lifted almost without thinking. Her fingertips found his cheek, tracing it slowly, memorizing him again.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
His brow furrowed. “For what?”
She smiled through the tears still clinging to her lashes. “For never stoppin’.”
“Never knew how.”
Smoke’s thumb caressed the back of her hand.
“So…”
“So.” Annie smiled.
He looked down for a second. “You goin’ back to NC?”
A beat.
She nodded. “I have to.”
His jaw flexed once. “When?”
“Tuesday. I got work on Thursday.”
Another quiet beat.
Annie watched him carefully. “You think we can do this?”
His head came up immediately. “I know we can.”
She smiled. “We couldn’t at seventeen.”
“We ain’t seventeen no more.”
He said it so simply it almost made her laugh.
“I ain’t lettin’ distance make decisions for us again.”
Another pause.
“If somethin’ bother you…” He squeezed her hand. “You tell me.”
“I will.”
“If I say I’m writin’ you…” A small smile tugged at his mouth. “I’m tellin’ yo’ ass this time.”
She laughed. “Good.”
“‘Cause I ain’t losin’ you to the United States Postal Service again.”
She laughed harder. “I know that's right.”
He smiled too, but it faded into something quieter. “I’ll come see you.”
“What?” She blinked.
“I’ll come to North Carolina.”
“You don’t have to—”
“I want to.”
His answer came without hesitation.
“And you’ll come back here.”
“I will.” She nodded.
“We’ll figure the rest out.” He shrugged one shoulder. “One week at a time if we gotta.”
“So…” Annie stared at him, while smiled through tears. “We’re really doin’ this?”
Smoke looked at her like the answer had never been in doubt. “I thought I already asked.”
Her brows knit together. “When?”
“When I told you I never stopped lovin’ you.”
Her breath caught.
“‘Cause I wasn’t askin’ you to remember me.” His hand found her cheek. “I was askin’ if I could love you again.”
She didn’t answer with words. She leaned forward and kissed him.
When they finally separated, Annie glanced down at the notebook still resting in her lap. Carefully, she closed it and set it on the nightstand. Neither of them reached for it again. They would later. There were still pages left to read. More Sundays to reclaim.
The notebook had given her eight years back. Now she wanted the years ahead.
Smoke watched her for a long moment before lifting a hand to her face. His fingertips brushed a curl away from her cheek, lingering there as though he still couldn’t quite believe she was real.
Annie leaned into his touch without thinking.
“Come here,” he murmured.
She smiled softly. “I’m already here.”
The corner of his mouth lifted. “Closer.”
She shifted against him until there wasn’t any space left between them. His arms settled around her almost instinctively, and for a while neither of them spoke. They simply lay there, breathing the same air, listening to the quiet rhythm of each other’s heartbeat.
Annie tipped her face up first. Their mouths met in an unhurried kiss. Slow and familiar, as though they finally had all the time eight years had stolen from them. Annie melted against him, her fingers wandering through the short curls at the back of his head while his hand drifted lazily along her spine.
She lay against his chest, smiling into another kiss. They’d spent the morning relearning each other again.
Now…
They simply wanted to be closer.
Annie didn’t wait long before desire took over again. She broke the kiss.
Smoke smiled against her mouth. “What?” he asked quietly.
“Nothin’,” she whispered. She kissed him one more time before pulling away.
Annie stood up in front of the bed, eyes never leaving his. With a slow, knowing smile, she reached up and pulled the elastic from her hair. The ponytail, already hanging on by a thread, gave way instantly, her curls tumbling around her shoulders and down her back. She raked her fingers through them once before pushing the ruined yellow dress the rest of the way down her body, letting it pool at her feet.
The ripped panties followed, sliding down her thighs until she stepped out of them completely. She stood there fully naked, letting him look at her. Breasts heaving, skin marked from his mouth and hands, thighs still shiny with their earlier combined release.
Smoke forgot to breathe as he watched her. She never broke eye contact, staring right back at him with pure love and heat.
Annie climbed onto the bed like a woman on a mission. Smoke sat up straighter. His manhood followed. He couldn’t take his eyes off her. Her full breasts swayed heavily with every movement, nipples still hard from his earlier attention. Her hips switched seductively from side to side as she crawled toward him, ass up, back arched just enough to make his mouth water. He noticed everything. The way her braids fell over one shoulder, the soft jiggle of her body with each movement. It was the sexiest thing he’d ever seen.
She pushed him onto his back and crawled between his legs, eyes locked on his with pure love and wicked intent. Starting at his chest, she kissed her way down his body. Slow, open-mouthed kisses over his abs, his hips, until she reached his thick length.
She wrapped her fingers around him and took him into her mouth with zero hesitation.
“Fuck, Annie…” Smoke groaned, head falling back as she sank down, taking him deep on the first try. She was wet, messy, and worshipful with it— spit dripped down his shaft as she bobbed her head on his lap, hollowing her cheeks with strong suction, tongue swirling around the head before taking him deep again. One hand twisted at the base while the other gently massaged his balls.
Who is this woman? he wondered, awestruck. The girl he remembered had giggled nervously, looking up at him with shy eyes. “You want me to put my mouth where?” she’d whispered with innocent disbelief.
Now she was swallowing him whole.
“That’s it, baby,” he praised, voice rough and loving as he fisted her braids gently. “Suck that muthafuka. Just like that.”
Annie moaned loudly around him, the vibration making his toes curl. She took him even deeper, relaxing her throat until her nose pressed against him, holding there while humming. She was confident, greedy, and completely focused on pleasing him.
Smoke’s grip tightened in her braids, thighs shaking. “Fuck, baby… I love you. Love this mouth. Love how youuu… Shiiiit, you gon’ make me lose it.”
Before he could, he gently pulled her off him, his eyes wild with lust and devotion. “Nah, come here.”
He flipped their positions and laid her gently on her back. For a little while, he just hovered over her, eyes locked on hers. Then he pushed her legs back slowly, folding her open, and sank into her with one smooth, deep stroke until their hips met.
A soft, shared moan filled the space between them.
Smoke didn’t rush. He rolled his hips in long, deliberate circles, grinding deep so the thick head of his dick rubbed firmly against that sensitive spot inside her with every slow thrust. His hand cradled the back of her head, fingers gently tangled in her braids, while his other palm slid down her side, cupping her breast and brushing his thumb across her nipple.
Annie’s breath hitched. Her walls fluttered around him as she tilted her hips to meet each stroke, taking him even deeper. Her fingers traced the muscles of his back, nails lightly scratching as pleasure built in waves.
He leaned down until they were brow to brow, their breathing mingling hot and ragged. “I love you,” he breathed against her lips, his voice cracking with raw emotion as he stroked her deep. “Annie… you my home. My peace. My everything. I’m never letting you go again.”
He kissed her slow and deep, tongue sliding against hers in time with his hips. Every thrust was unhurried, a steady push and grind that made her toes curl and her thighs tremble around his waist. He watched her face the whole time: the way her eyes fluttered, the little gasp when he angled just right, the way her lips parted on a soft moan. He adjusted slightly, pressing deeper, making sure every movement dragged perfectly against her.
Annie whimpered into his mouth, legs tightening around him as she rocked up to meet him. Tears slipped from the corners of her eyes. She held him closer, bodies pressed flush, skin slick with sweat.
“I love you too,” she breathed between kisses, voice shaking with emotion and building pleasure. “I’m never leaving you again. Aaah—don’t stop… just like this.”
He kissed her tears away, then captured her mouth in a slow, passionate kiss as he kept that deep, steady rhythm. Every roll of his hips pressed against her sex. Every thrust dragged along that sensitive spot inside her. His hands roamed—one cupping her breast, thumb brushing her nipple, the other gripping her hip to hold her right where he wanted her.
The pleasure built gradually. Annie’s moans grew breathier, her nails gently scratching down his back as she met every thrust. Smoke groaned into her mouth, each kiss interrupted by another hushed confession.
“That’s it, baby… feel me. Feel how deep I am. This is us. This is home.”
Their bodies moved together in perfect sync. Slow, sensual, and incredibly intimate. Skin against skin. Hearts pounding in time. The connection was electric and tender all at once. When they finally came, it was together — intense, soul-shaking waves that left them trembling and clinging to each other, letting quiet “I love yous” over and over as pleasure and love crashed through them.
After a long while, Smoke stood on shaky legs, grabbed her hand, and led her to the bathroom. He ran a warm shower, steam filling the small space, then stepped in with her, holding her close under the spray.
The water cascaded over them, washing away sweat and the lingering traces of their morning and afternoon, but the marks remained on her throat, scratches down his back, fingerprints bruised into her hips. Smoke took a soft washcloth, soaped it, and began cleaning her with heartbreaking tenderness.
He stood beneath the spray for a moment, his hands resting lightly at her waist as warm water ran over them both. The room had gone quiet except for the steady rhythm of the shower. He smiled to himself, almost disbelievingly.
She was here.
He started with her face, wiping away tear tracks, then moved lower. When he reached between her legs, Annie winced softly—sore, swollen, thoroughly used.
“Am I hurtin’ you?” he asked worried, voice gentle, kissing her temple.
“No,” she smiled through the ache. “Besides, you said I was gonna feel you for weeks.”
He smirked cockily, “I did say that, huh?”
While he carefully cleaned her sensitive folds with slow, gentle strokes of the warm cloth, his fingers brushing her with painstaking care, memories washed over Annie. She shivered beneath his touch.
Her on top. Reverse cowgirl. Pussy swallowing him deep while he couldn’t do anything, but take it. A soft moan escaped her. Smoke noticed, eyes darkening with fresh heat even as he stayed gentle.
“You thinkin’ about how I had you against the dresser?” he murmured, voice low and loving. “Had your legs over my arms, fucking you so deep while you bit my neck?”
Annie nodded, leaning into him. She reached for her washcloth and returned the favor, washing his chest, his abs, then carefully washing him with the same loving care he’d shown her. “I love you, Elijah.”
He pulled her flush against him under the water and kissed her. “I love you more than anythin’. We lost too much time. Never again, tho.”
They stayed in the shower long after they were clean, just holding each other, trading soft kisses and quiet vows, letting the water soothe sore muscles and heal old wounds.
Wrapped in towels, Annie helped Elijah change the linens, and then they collapsed back into the bed. Annie sprawled across his chest, tracing lazy circles over his heart.
Smoke pressed a kiss to the top of her braids.
“By the way… Hi.”
Annie laughed, soft, wrecked, and full of love. She kissed the spot over his heart.
“Hi.”
End Note: Well… That’s it y’all! 🥹 This was the chapter I’ve been working toward from the very beginning. The one that’s lived in my head (and stressed me out 😭) for longer than I’d like to admit. I rewrote parts of it more times than I can count because I wanted to make sure I got it right. I hope I did! 😬 Thank you for taking this journey with Smoke and Annie. Thank you for your patience, your comments, your theories, your excitement, and for loving these two as much as I do. 💜
I think I’ll do an Epilogue where we go 5-10 years in the future to see where our fav couple is now. What do y’all think? 🥰
CW : nasty, smut, missionary, infidelity, wife next door kink, after care sex, little fluff, anal, D-expansion, dirty talk.
A/N : not gon lie I rushed the end a bit. It’s a one shot of 1.2K words so pretty short. I was challenging myself lol. Enjoy 👀
Pairing : Annie and Smoke
Annie had always been the perfect spouse for Joseph, neglecting her needs to fulfill his. Her marriage was kept safe that way. Or so she thought.
She shouldn't be there, in this hotel room, moaning lecherously to her husband bestfriend's bites on her tits. She should have been at home, cooking dinner for the gruff Joseph. And so should he. But no, that bastard was certainly somewhere else with another woman.
Annie was just mirroring his actions. She wasn't at fault.
"when was the last time he fucked you like this, huh?"
"Please don't stop— Elijah—!"
He stuffed her tight pussy to his girth, jamming inside her cunt while his tongue flicked wet on her erected luscious nipples.
Annie's eyes whitened as spams of pleasure overwhelmed her body. Her walls clenched around his length, grazing sensitively along the veins of his soggy dick.
Her brain went numb each time Elijah pounded fat on her G-spot — one fistful hand gripping and sprawling the soft flesh of her ass, the free one spreading her thigh wider.
The bed creaked under their weight, and Annie's nipples twitched inside his mouth, tickling his tongue.
"You're sensitive here?" Smoke grunted, nibbling her swollen meaty buds. He flicked and swirled his tongue around her lacteous breast — lapping, guzzling, drinking each sip of her milk. "You still breastfeeding, Annie?" He groaned, cockily — his mouth full. "Fuck you taste so good."
"Harder— oh fuck— don't stop— it's so good— oh Lord!" She cried out, her breath coming in gasps, as her fingernails dug into his back.
Smoke abandoned her doused tits in a squelchy pop and pushed himself up, one knee pressed into the mattress — Then, he caught Annie's thick thigh, hoisted it onto his shoulder, pumped his hips faster, thrusting harder into her pussy. "Then don't think about tapping out baby."
As if matching his deep strokes, the room's air conditioner began to blow harder. Annie's legs went limp, and her cunt clenched fiercely around Smoke's thick cock, baking cream. With a vagabonding hand, Smoke slapped her ass and groped her cheek — the doughy flesh wiggling in his palm. "I'm not gonna last long if you tighten up like that, mama."
He jerked once inside her, his fat dick smacking her walls side to side. To each jam, the shape of his cock outlined on her belly, cutting her breath away.
Annie sucked her lip until bleeding, her entire body giving in to the guilty pleasures Elijah was putting her through. Her enormous milk-filled breasts bounced heavily on her chest while her eager little asshole throbbed rhythmically, craving the thick cock of her husband's coworker and best friend.
"Oh fuck—yes, Elijah, your cock is so huge—fuck me harder, please. My pussy is yours—" She begged with her tongue lolling out, a thin trickle of drool running down her lips.
Annie had already forgotten about her bastard husband's micropenis. She had never been taken like this by any man before.
She was overwhelmed by his enormous cock growing stiff and swelling even more in her creampied vagina. Then, suddenly a short popping sound cracked — The condom had snapped, flowing her womb with Elijah's hot cum.
"Shit—"
"Don't stop Elijah...take good care of me..." She panted, her holes pulsing.
Smoke's irises dilated, darkening. He hunched over her face and captured her lips, nudging, nibbling, eating them.
Annie thigh, fell back on the mattress totally boneless and he pressed her knees, gaping them to extreme before burying himself further down.
He penetrated her through her cum-flooded pussy, foaming her creampied cake. He hit her spot, once twice and thrice — his pubic hair brushing against hers as her sensitive dampened clit flattened on his mound — and she gushed, squirting on his abdomen.
"Oh Jesus—YEAAH— Gnngn— Fuck..." Annie climaxed, her body clenching possessively around his meat.
Elijah pulled out of her squelchy cunt, stretching her hole deliciously. "Pretty needy thing." He spat onto two fingers and shoved them in her gaped foaming vagina. He drove slow then faster while her pussy spurted, queefing.
"You are so soft pretty mama. Look at how sweet your honey is." He licked her juice off his fingers. "That fool is damn lucky."
Annie stared at him with a longing gaze as her dripping wet pussy spat the used condom out of her now gaping hole. She still wasn't sated.
With his still-erect penis dangling in front of him, Smoke watched as Annie got down on all fours. She arched her back, her round ass wobbling uncontrollably. Then she grabbed her voluptuous butt cheeks and squeezed them apart, flashing her glistening, twitching asshole. "If—if please, Elijah... fuck my fat ass. Stuff my tight brown hole with your big cock, please..."
The nerves in Smoke's cock strained violently, his cock went rock-hard as he watched Annie's tight anus, his mouth watering at the sight.
In this position, her pussy was still wide open, leaking cum, and her big clit, nestled in a patch of pubic hair, was twitching.
"You've got a nice ass there, Ma." He rubbed the brown rim of Annie's hole, then slid his thumb inside. "Do you want this big cock in your ass, Ma?"
Without saying a word, Annie arched her back even more, drawing air into her pussy.
Smoke drew closer, then lined up behind her.
With his hardness, he slapped her butt cheeks, then tapped the broad tip against her rear.
"I'm going to fuck your big slutty ass, sweet baby. Don't worry. But first, I'd like to taste it..."
Smoke got on his knees and cupped Annie’s backside with his face, eating her from behind. She nearly suffocated him as she squirmed ; Then, Smoke rose up, knocking his head against her back entrance. “Hold tight baby. Don’t worry I’ll make you feel good.”
Slowly, he drove his length down her body, stroking languidly at first, then quickening his pace. “You right?”
Annie moaned, taking him as best as she could.
She’d never tried it there and it felt so good with Elijah.
After pounding fast into her, Smoke gave in, cumming endlessly.
“Shit…let me marry you instead baby.” He fell limp on her back, smooching her hair.
Annie flustered. And as if common sense suddenly hit her, she jerked away from him, padding to the bathroom. “I— I should— I should— shower and go.”
Smoke straightened up, trailing her steps. “Let me soap you.” He whispered lovingly close to her ear, enveloping her body with his strong arms.
“I can do it myself.”
“I know. But still, I want to do it baby.” He fluttered kisses along her neck, guiding her inside the bathroom.
Nine and forty at night and her husband was still not home. Annie had returned from the hotel four hours ago, fearing Joseph would come early.
Stupid thoughts.
While she lit off the lights in the house, she heard the garage open and saw from the window her husband’s Sedan parked inside.
She hurried to the bedroom and lay on the mattress.
“Oh you don’t sleep yet?” Joseph greeted, entering the room.
“No. It’s quite late, I was worried.”
He laughed gruffly and retorted. “Ha. Don’t worry darling. I was with Elijah. We stayed late night at the office today.”
Elijah, huh?
Annie smiled, shutting the lamp off. “I see. Glad you made home safe.”
Tag list : tell me if you want to be removed from it as usual.
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Shea Buttah Bakery Masterlist
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sounds // When You Touch Me - Brandy
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warnings - smut, explicit language, there's filth in here
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Annie was in a bad way today.
Her poor vibrator sat atop her blanket worn out, on its final bit of glint from the last try. She had turned to her side and moved on to watching one of her favorite youtube shows. In this episode, the group was discussing which appetizer was the worst, yet her pussy was leaking between her cheeks as if it were something much more salacious. Her legs squirmed beneath the covers, unable to keep still as she laughed at them joke on each other more than they discussed the actual topic.
She paused the video and fell back with a heavy, frustrated sigh, wondering why her hormones had to kick in while she was alone. And, even more, what she was gonna do about it. Especially since she had already made herself cum three whole times with not an ounce of relief in sight. In the midst of near hysteria, she was notified that someone was coming into the garage. She squealed after looking at her phone. A few short seconds later, the remedy walked through their bedroom door.
“What happened?”
“Stack canceled. His lazy ass wanna do it next week now.”
“Oh, wow. Your brother’s a trip.”
“Yeah. I heard Sammie in the background, too, so I’m sure that’s what really changed his plans. They’ll be up to no good pretty soon.”
“You know, I always did like Sammie.”
He chuckled, disappearing into the bathroom. A few moments later, he returned in his undershirt and boxer briefs. “You wanted me home, huh?”
“Hell yeah. Come here.”
The way her tongue ran softly over her lips while her eyes took in every bit of him, he already knew what type of time she was on. It was confirmed when he saw the toy lying behind her.
“What you been in here doing?” He grinned slyly.
“Nothing.” She was grinning herself as she lied.
“Don’t look like nothing.”
“Whatever I did, I still need you.”
He was immediately taken by the pretend innocence in those big, brown eyes. “Yeah?”
She nodded. “Mhm.”
He came closer and picked the vibrator up, turning it on. He switched through every speed before stopping on the highest one. Internally, she was celebrating, as guaranteed satisfaction wasn't too far away. But then he switched it off, put it down in front of her, and, most concerning, backed away. “First, show me what you be doing when I’m not here.”
Annie’s stomach dropped, taking her smile with it. Though he’d seen, touched, and tasted just about every part of her, this made her nervous for some reason. Maybe because she’d only ever done it by herself? She was on the way into her head when he grabbed her chin and made her look at him, lovingly brushing his fingers down her cheek.
“Go ‘head, baby, don't be shy. I got you.”
Feeling just slightly reassured, she went over onto her elbow. The lump in her throat went down a lot easier than her hand did under the blanket. Then he pulled it back and took away her last bit of comfort, revealing her panties down beside her. But, before she could react, they were against his face getting a long, deep sniff.
“Smoke! Oh my god.” She couldn't help but laugh at him groaning with closed eyes. Like her drawers were the most delicious scent he'd ever had the privilege of smelling. “You are so nasty.”
He winked at her and grinned, throwing them back onto the bed.
Reminded that there was nothing for her to feel unsure about, that this was her man and it wasn’t possible for her to be any safer, she turned her body to face him head on and propped herself up on a pillow. If he wanted a show, she was gonna give him one.
“Ok. That's what I’m talkin’ ‘bout,” he cheered, rubbing his hands together and making her giggle even more.
All unnecessary shame gone, she slid her fingers between her lips and closed her eyes. That was just her way of doing things. But he had different plans.
“Nah, mama. Eyes on me.”
She took a deep breath and gladly bent to his will, spreading her legs while her hand slipped around in her wetness. She gazed through her thighs at him and bit her lip. His irritatingly sexy smolder always sent her over the edge, but watching him watch her was turning her on in a way she hadn't expected. She’d never considered voyeurism to be her thing, but now that she was in it, she only had one complaint. Her fingers weren't going to be enough.
She picked up the vibrator and started it on the lowest speed. The corner of his lips went up into a satisfied grin. As anticipated, her helper added a thrill that her hand just couldn't match as she pushed it over her clit. She brought one of her knees up to her chest, her breathing starting to quicken. She was in a groove. A moan spilled from her throat like a sultry melody. His favorite song.
“There you go.”
Smoke came closer, hungrily licking his lips, dimples deep enough to drown in. She liked the hell out of this. Any doubts she might've had before had since turned to titillation. He wouldn't have to tell her again to look at him, because she was locked in. Her hips rolled as she surrendered to the sparks igniting the fire between her thighs, her moans pouring out. He had a fire of his own rising as he witnessed her lose control with her eyes set on him. Overcome, she grabbed her breast and sucked it into her warm mouth. It was so hard for him not to touch her, but he could do this all day. Taking in the fullness of her gorgeous body; her deep brown skin thoroughly moisturized; thick, juicy coils framing the most perfect face he'd ever seen. She was an angel. Beauty paled in comparison to what she was. And all she wanted was him.
“Feel good?”
“Yeah,” she whispered, squeezing her soaked nipple between two fingers. “Mmmm.”
“Open up, fat cat. Let me see.”
She reached down and spread herself wide. He smiled and leaned in to get a better view, blowing delicately on her pussy before his ascent. She gasped. The breeze flowing against her slippery skin sent a chill through her entire body. She pushed the vibrator against her clit and held it there. She was done. His arms, his chest in that tank top, the thickness. The achingly sensual tone of his voice. The way his dick was running out of space in his underwear. All of it was driving her crazy. She needed to release.
Her mouth fell open and, for the first time since they’d started, her eyes left him. As they rolled, her head followed, tipping back on the pillow she’d now sunken deeper into. Watching her fight—and fail—to keep enough composure to hold her head up, hearing her beg sweetly for him with almost every breath she took, was doing him in. Like her, he wasn't gonna last too much longer.
“Smoke,” she breathed, so desperately.
“Yeah, baby?”
“Please touch me.”
He didn't need to hear her say it again. He started at her knee and gently led his hand down her inner thigh. Eye to eye with her once more, he gave the softness a light squeeze, then her hips went still.
He smiled. “Oooh, this my part right here.”
A heavy crease hit her brow and he saw her pussy start to ripple. He swore he could feel it pulsing against his dick. Mesmerized, he leaned in just as a thick bead of her nectar dripped out, hanging on to the edge.
“Goddamn. Make a mess for me, mama.”
“Fuuuuuck.” Her head slumped back and he grabbed her other thigh, kneading his thick fingers into them both.
“Mhm. I wanna see that pretty pussy all over these sheets.”
She shrieked and the waves began to ripple faster. The muscles in her thighs were flexing hard against his hands. He licked his lips, watching her leak onto their bed just as he’d asked. She looked up at him, chest heaving, eyes glazed over, her cries reaching an octave he didn’t have the strength to ignore.
He let her go and started to jump up and down, stretching his neck from side to side like a fighter waiting for his chance in the ring. “Shit, that’s enough.”
Annie drifted out of ecstasy and right into a laugh, where he had his palm out toward her, still bouncing. “…You foolish.”
He had to make sure everything was perfect. For her. His Annie. Maybe it was too soon to call her his but it felt right. Familiar. Warm and soft with a hint of sweetness like a honeysuckle. There was something special about her, his Annie. Her soul called to his soul the first time he was blessed with a glimpse of her. She was stepping into a cafe in downtown Clarksdale. Just returned back home from Chicago he leaned against his truck as his identical twin rambled on about some woman. Imani or Isis or something. Hell he didn't know exactly. He was just glad it wasn't Mary. Her married ass was trouble.
Chicago had been fun but Smoke was ready to set down his roots back at home. As the Mississippi sun beat down on him and sweat rolled down his spine he thought about what he really wanted and why they came back. He wanted moments on the porch with glasses of sweet tea and nature's soundtrack of cicadas filling the air, games of spades and dominoes with his favorite cousin Sammie and weekly fish frys with his friends Delta Slim, Cornbread and Bo who were more family than mere friends. He wanted calm. Quiet. Peace.
Yes Clarksdale was home and he was glad he was back. The gentle melody of her laugh floated over to him across the street and left him enraptured as he watched her walk into the cafe's door. Her curls bounced against her shoulders in happy movement as she seemed to walk to a rhythm of a drum and dance only she could hear. Her skin shimmered like liquid gold in the sun. Her beautiful lips were covered in the prettiest shade of red Smoke had ever seen. It reminded him of the sweet summer strawberries he would pick during his childhood with his brother to earn money. He wondered if her lips were just as sweet.
He quickly shut the door of the truck he had driven with his brother from Chicago leaving his twin to talk to himself as he made his way toward the cafe. He didn't even know what he would say to the beauty when he saw her but he knew he had to have her attention. Bells jingled over the door as he entered and the gentle hum of life permeated the atmosphere. The smell of whole fried catfish, greens, black eyed peas, okra, red beans, bbq and yams filled the air. The room was filled with people eating their vittles of pressed Po'Boys and Hot Tamales. Displays of Mississippi Mud pies, pound cakes, lemon meringue pies and every single southern sweet you could think of lined the front counter. And there she stood. She was even more regal up close. She radiated a beauty so ethereal he thought surely this was his glimpse of heaven. As he walked closer towards her the sweet aroma of her perfume wrapped around his nose like tendrils. She smelled like sandalwood, creamy and sweet, and a mix of something he couldn't quite put his finger on.
She paused as she spoke with her friend as this handsome man entered her space. Her breath hitched so slightly, caught in her chest. This man was beautiful. He looked stoic in a manner that she had never seen before. Yet there was something bubbling just beneath the surface. There. Right there. There was someone deeper there. She could see it in the small twinkle in his eyes.
He gently offered her his hand. "Smoke."
"Annie. Nice to make your acquaintance." He rubbed soothing circles in her hand as they stood together in the cafe as the world around them melted away. Annie thought she saw his lips turn up slightly. She didn't know who this man was but she already felt the threads of her soul intertwining with the threads of his.
"I don't believe I have ever seen you here before," he said.
"Well I moved to Clarksdale a few years ago from Louisiana. Well...my grandmother and I did."
"Oh. For what, exactly?" He was curious to know what greater force had blessed him with the chance to meet her.
"Well..." she said in that slow southern drawl that felt like a warm hug. "Spirit said Clarksdale and here we are" she said with a tiny shrug of her shoulder.
Now Smoke didn't normally believe in things such as spirit or any of that mumbo jumbo stuff. Simply power. Power he could see plainly with his eyes. But for her, he knew he would believe in anything.
That had been their meeting over five months ago. He never knew a person could be home. That's what Annie had been for him. Home. Late night drives to 24 hour diners where they would talk and laugh as if the day had no end. Countless phone calls and walks just to be in each other's presence. Annie had even blessed the building he and Stack had bought. She prayed and worked every root she knew for protection and abundance for him and his crazy brother.
His feet shuffled across the polished hickory floor with the smell of Florida water lingering in the air from the deep clean he had given his industrial loft situated in the center of Clarksdale. The loft was once a part of an old saw mill. Smoke and Stack had seen more than just an old mill in that place. They saw real potential. It had good bones. A solid foundation.
So he and his brother bought the old mill and converted it into loft apartments on one side and a club they called The Juke Joint on the other side. Every Friday and Saturday night you could come to The Juke Joint and get the best fried catfish sandwich, play a game or two of cards and hear the best blues player in the Mississippi Delta Sammie with his sweet thang Pearline.
Smoke and Stack occupied the two most spacious lofts directly across from each other. They were never too far from each other. They were the SmokeStack twins and their reputation preceded them.
Smoke had to make this night one Annie couldn't forget. He lit candles throughout his home that gave a soft golden glow. A bouquet of white, pink and red peonies rested on the counter for her. Peonies were Annie's favorite flower. She always found them to be so beautiful. He had made Annie's favorite, crawfish étouffée, using her grandmother's recipe and French bread to remind her of home.
He could feel the excitement of the night buzzing underneath his skin. He ran a hand over his hair and double checked himself in the mirror. A knock at the door drew his attention. He gave himself one more once over and walked over to welcome his guest.
There Annie stood. In a fiery red dress that hugged every beautiful curve. Her breasts sat high and full. He wondered what her nipples would taste like. She wore his favorite lipstick. The same one he had seen her on the first day they met. A smile graced her face and her eyes sparkled when she peered at him.
"Elijah."
The way his name rolled off her tongue sent a rush straight to his dick. He subtly readjusted himself in his pants. He stepped forward and engulfed her into a hug. The hairs of his beard tickled her neck as his cologne cloaked her in an embrace that made her clit thump. Smoke pulled her by her waist closer to him making their bodies flush against another. He could smell the faint fragrance of her arousal as her nipples pebbled against his chest.
She felt flush all over her body. The heat of desire tingled at her back as he held her. He took a step back to allow her inside. Annie stopped for a moment to take it all in. His loft was a soft golden color from the light of the candles as they flickered against the wall. His home was a balance of browns and blacks with accents of golds and blues. Smoke loved the color blue. There on the counter sat the most exquisite arrangement of peonies that Annie had ever seen in her life.
She shifted to face Smoke with a smile that could light a thousand dark nights.
"You remembered."
"I remember everything about you."
She blushed against her skin. "Thank you. They are magnificent."
"Not quite as magnificent as you." His voice gruff and deep. She turned and walked towards the kitchen.
"And what is that delicious smell? It smells like my granny's crawfish étouffée."
"That's because it is darling. There's also your favorite candy pecan pralines. I used her recipes."
Annie was taken aback. She had caught Smoke on numerous occasions at her grandmother's house without her knowledge. He would hoe the garden and dig up weeds. Fix doors and lay tile. Anything her grandmother fancied. She had even heard muffled conversations on the phone that Smoke would abruptly end whenever she would enter the room. When she asked him about it he would say that he was on the phone with her grandmother but that her grandmother said she had to go. Who knew that Smoke and her grandmother had been sharing together to create a precious moment for her. Tears tickled the corners of her eyes.
"Now don't start that crying. I have a whole evening planned for us."
Annie chuckled at Smoke and told him these were tears of happiness. He guided her to the table and pulled out her chair. As he pushed her in he left a lingering kiss on her cheek. Their night was filled with laughter and lingering sensual touches across the table.
"Annie, you are special. I think about you every single day. I carry you in my spirit. You are a part of my soul."
Annie was moved by Smoke's words. He wasn't a man that expressed himself openly often so she cherished each word he uttered across his lips.
Smoke stood and held out his hand for her to take. Annie placed her hand in his as he pulled her to him. He moved them towards his bedroom. He released her hand as he turned and took in her fully. He motioned for her to take off her clothes. She turned.
"Unzip me."
His hands reached the zipper and reverently unzipped her dress. She pushed the dress off her shoulders and allowed it to pool at her feet. He took in her glory. White lace covered the swells of her breasts and he could see the pebbling of her chocolate nipples.
God.
Was she magnificent.
His eyes traveled down her body to her lace white panties that covered her mound with an opening where he saw a glimpse of silver at her clit.
His eyes continued to wander down to her feet which were covered with red satin slingback stilettos with a red bow at the back of each of her heels. She looked like a gift. Smoke couldn't wait to unwrap her. He took a step forward. She stopped him with a hand to his chest and a push.
"You next."
He took his time. He pulled his shirt over his head. Revealing a solid firm body. He looked like a sweet caramel. His biceps bulged and Annie could feel herself salivating. Next he unbuckled his belt unbuttoning his pants to pull at the zipper. He allowed his pants to fall to the ground with a thunk. He took a step towards Annie as she once again stopped him with her hand.
Using her hand, she pushed him until the back of his knees touched the bed. With one final gentle push, she pushed him down to the bed. She straddled over his dick and wrapped her hand around his throat. She leaned down close to his ear and licked slowly.
"Ara re ko ni gbagbe mi laelae."*
Smoke could feel his dick harden against the warmth of Annie's pussy. She trailed kisses down his face. Kissing and sucking his nipples as she licked and sucked over his chest. She pulled back slightly and gave his right nipple a slight pinch and twist. He groaned deep in the back of his throat as his eyes fluttered. She was pulling him apart.
She continued her journey down his chest until she reached the crux of his pelvis. Forming a V and covered the the soft tufts of jet black hair lay a piece of art. It was the most beautiful dick Annie had ever seen. It was long, girthy and veiny with one long thick vein running down along the center of his shaft that seemed to throb with every single look Annie gave.
She peered up at Smoke as he looked down at her through his eyelashes as his eyes sat low. She licked the tip of his shaft with her tongue causing his eyes to flutter. His toes curled down to grip the wooden floor beneath him. She continued to lick and slurp on the mushroom tip of his shaft as precum leaked from his dick.
She then opened her mouth wider, taking him deeper down her throat. She had to stop as she gagged. He was the largest she had ever experienced. Annie slowly breathed out of her nose to adjust herself. She pushed him deeper until her nose was flush with his pelvis. She sucked, allowing the spit to run down her face and neck as she pleasured him. She was a fucking mess of spit dripping down her breasts. His moans fueled her to go hard.
She released Smoke from her mouth as she used both of her hands to twist and pull along his shaft while using her mouth at the tip of his dick.
Smoke felt like he was losing his mind. Tingling shocks of electricity moved over his body as Annie worked his dick over. She ran her finger nails gingerly down the Smoke's chocolate shaft. He lay across his brown satin sheets feeling Annie kiss down the length of his dick in complete awe. Annie could feel her clit thump with every swell of Smoke's dick. Her thighs felt sticky with wetness and arousal. Each pant and moan Annie drew from Smoke made her feel godly.
She pulled his dick from her mouth and spit in her hand. Drawing his dick back deeply within her throat, she used her spit covered hand to gently massage his balls.
He could feel the tightening of his balls as she continued to lick over him. He had to stop her or he could cum down her throat. He wanted...no he needed to please her. He leaned up and grabbed her ass cheeks pulling her up to him. Annie was shocked as he moved her body like a feather.
Moving Annie up his body, he released her breasts from their white lace constraints. Bouncing in his face, he took her in. Her nipples were hardening under his gaze. Holding a breast in the palm of each of his hands he relished in their weight. Perfectly sized and full, he couldn't resist using his tongue to taste them. Sweet. Like those summertime juicy strawberries. Just as he had imagined.
He placed her pussy over his face as he lay back on the bed. His nose delved into her pussy as he inhaled her arousal. She was dripping wet.
"Is this for me?"
He looked at the piercing above her clit. It sparkled in the candlelight. He wrapped his lips around her clit as he sucked gently. Using his index finger, he penetrated deep within her pussy to draw her sweet honey out. She arched her back panting breathlessly. She gave slow rolls of her hips as she rode his face. He swiped his tongue over her clit sending chills down her body. Annie had never felt this level of pleasure from head. Smoke was an attentive lover.
Licking her clit softly, he savored the taste of it like ice cream on a hot summer day that he didn't want to eat too fast or melt too quick. Annie picked up the pace, rolling her hips with pressing need. She rolled her hips faster and faster as she felt the tightening in her core.
"Baby. Please don't stop."
Smoke increased the pressure of his tongue on her clit. Quickly he released her clit as he wet his thumb. He placed his thumb in her ass as he began to suck and lick on her clit again.
"Right there baby. Don't stop. Please."
Annie had never experienced anal pleasure. Smoke breached her walls, intensifying her pleasure and sending her body into overdrive.
"Right there?'
"Yes. Right there. God.You feel so good."
Her core continued to tighten until she felt herself thrown in the throes of euphoria as she squirted all over his face. He drank from her well as a man dying of thirst in the desert. Annie began to float back down to earth but Smoke had other plans for her.
He swiftly flipped her over on the bed as he pulled her by the ankles to his body. He tapped his penis on her clit as her wet pussy splashed against him.
"Hmmm. Elijah. You feel so good to me."
God this must be what heaven feels like Smoke thought to himself.
He pushed his dick into Annie's pussy and stilled. She felt like his own personal paradise. Her warm and wet pussy gripped his dick and pulsed, squeezing and pulling him deeper. He gave her stroke after stroke staring down into the pools of her brown eyes. Using two fingers, he began playing with her clit. His dick moved in and out covered in her creamy elixir.
Smoke knew she was close. Her chest heaved up and down as her breasts bounced up and down from his deep long strokes.
"Elijah. I'm cumming baby."
"Cum for me. You are so beautiful when you cum. Wet this dick up."
Annie couldn't hold back any longer as she cum all over his dick. Smoke quickly leaned down to lick her clean. But Annie hadn't satisfied herself and grabbed Smoke's legs to flip him on his back as she swallowed him whole leaving him shocked as he sucked on her clit. She continued to lick him clean as he devoured her clit.
She could feel herself cumming again. Fire rushed over her breasts as she came on Smoke's face leaving her essence dripping from his beard.
Righting their bodies, he turned Annie to face him. Smoke said "Kiss me baby. I love the taste of you."
He stared into her beautiful brown eyes and said, "I need one more from you. Can you give me one more?"
Annie gazed at Smoke as if he hung the stars and the moon slowly sliding down his dick. They groaned in satisfaction as their bodies joined together. She wined and rolled her hips against as he stroked her deeper and deeper into the oceans of pleasure. She used her hands to grab his ass to pull him closer to her. He placed his hand around her throat.
"Open up."
Annie opened her mouth as Smoke allowed his spit to drip down into her mouth.
"Swallow."
She swallowed as her lust filled eyes set him ablaze. He groaned.
He knew that this one was it. There would never be another one. Annie was it for him. She had ruined him. Annie watched Smoke lustfully as he devoured her soul.
They were connected. This was more than sex. They were knitting their souls and spirits together. Tied together for an eternity.
"Elijah." Annie pants.
"Yes."
"Elijah. I can't hold it. I am cumming."
"Don't hold it. Cum for me."
"Cum with me Elijah. Cum in my pussy. I want to feel all of you in my pussy."
The moment those words slipped from Annie's lips, Smoke could feel his soul leaving his body and marrying itself to Annie's.
He came with a roar that made its way to the heavens and Annie cried out as he filled her with his cum.
Their chests heaved up and down as Smoke rolled off Annie and lay beside her. Sweat glistened on their bodies as a smile graced Annie's face. They lay in the afterglow of their intimacy.
Annie peeked up at Smoke.
"You know-"
"You are it for me." Smoke stated with a finality that Annie hadn't expected.
She let out a little chuckle and said "You're it for me too."
Yall this story wouldn't let me loose until I put pen to paper. I normally don't write but I couldn't let it go. I hope yall enjoyed!
