For a moment, it felt like Annie’s world stopped. This man was looking at her like she held all the answers to the universe. And she didn’t even know his name. She tilted her head, studying him in this new light. ‘You know my name, but what’s yours? Annie asks, curious. Stack’s hands rub soothing circles over Annie’s neck, fascinated by the softness and smoothness of her skin. He takes his time before answering.
‘Name’s Stack’ he eventually bit out. Annie raised her eyebrows at this. ‘That the name your mama gave you?’ Stack raised an eyebrow right back, mirroring Annie’s skeptical expression. ‘Did your mama name you Nightrider?’ He responded cheekily. Annie laughs at this. ‘Touche, you got me there.’ Stack winks at her. ‘I know I do.’ The music slows to a heady, steamy Victoria Monet song and eventually Annie continues her slow sensual grind on Stack, who’s still holding her face like it’s the most precious thing in the world.
‘C’mon baby, touch me for real’ she purrs at him. Stack’s hands begin to glide down further away from her face, touching gliding over her neck, her back, until his huge hands grip her hips, squeezing with appreciation. ‘That’s more like it’ she sighs contently. Stack moans at her in response and Annie is positive it’s one of the sexiest sounds she’s ever heard. All of a sudden she’s desperate to touch him. ‘Do I feel good, baby?’ She whispers to Stack, somehow drawing impossibly closer to him. His eyes burn into hers. ‘You feel fucking amazing. You gotta know that, don’t play with me.’
Annie says nothing to that, just bites her lip almost shyly. She leans in again, this time by his ear. ‘Turn about is fair play ain’t it? So it’s only fair if you get to touch me, I get to touch you too’. Stack breathes a laugh. ‘Nightrider, you can do whatever you want.’ Annie bites her lip and then smiles warmly at Stack. ‘Dangerous words, right there.’
But Annie takes him up on his offer, gliding her hands along the muscled planes of his chest, gripping his firm biceps and pressing at different spots just to have him gasp and moan at her. Beneath her, he’s getting harder by the second, and usually this sort of thing is just a component of the job. A gorgeous half naked woman on a man’s lap will result in an erection, no doubt. But like the rest of the night, something was different. Stack wasn’t getting hard for a half naked woman. He was getting hard for her. Because of her. And perhaps it was foolish, but it didn’t seem like anyone else would be able to get this reaction out of this man. The way he held her face in his hands and told her she was beautiful reverberated in her mind like an echo. Making people feel good was her job, someone making her feel good? Another thing entirely.
As Annie’s mind continued to turn over this startling interaction, Stack’s hands roamed the curves and hills of her body. One hand brushed over her full belly. Another wrapped up an ass cheek in his hand and squeezed. He buried his face in her breasts and inhaled deeply, like a man coming home from a particularly weary war. And Annie was overwhelmed from the pure want that seemed to emanate from Stack. She had never been wanted with this kind of single minded focus and it scared her.
They rocked back and forth, lost in their own world and it was heady and arousing, almost alien. When the clock on the wall pinged, it immediately pulled them out of their trance. Annie reluctantly pulled herself off of Stack’s lap before facing him again. The man looked pulled through the ringer. Stack stood up, erection still furious and demanding in his pants. But he ignored it, instead pulling out a huge wad of cash, holding it out to Annie.
‘For you’ he said simply.
Annie laughed nervously. ‘Stack, I-’
‘Don’t argue with me. Just take it. If I could give you my bank account right at this moment, best believe I would. Now take it.’
Annie reached out and took the wad of cash, looking at it. And then she came closer, pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek, before slipping out the door. Stack stood there for a moment, feeling like the world had just shifted below his feet. He could still feel her, all of her softness in his hands, after she had given him the privilege of touching her. Her soft, silky voice in his ear…
Time had stopped and now that it had restarted, everything felt different, somehow colored by his experience with Nightrider. He left the room, moving through the club to find his brother, who he spots nursing an old fashioned.
‘Where have you been? I’ve been trying to find you for damn near an hour. Shit’ Smoke grumbles at Stack. Stack just shrugs him off.
‘You the one that said you don’t even wanna be here that long, and you disappear on me like that? Fuck is wrong wit’ you anyway?’ Smoke testily asks his brother. ‘Aht, aht. You ain’t my daddy, I can ‘disappear’ anywhere I damn well please. Now, I’m here, we leavin’ or what?’ Stack testily responded.
Smoke jingled his car keys, his long legs eating up the distance between the bar and the exit. Stack was right beside him, effortlessly matching his older brother’s stride. ‘You good to drive?’ Stack asked, scanning all the people in the room. Smoke hissed in response. ‘Man, c’mon. Didn’t drink that much. Now stop trying to drive my ride, you know I’d never trust you with that, speed demon that you are’. Stack chuckled. ‘Worth trying anyway.’ They both slid into their respective seats and disappeared into the night.
LATER THAT NIGHT.
When Annie stripped down by her locker, her pleasers were always the last to go. That’s when Nightrider receded into the background and Antoinette Leveau came back into form. She was proud of those shoes, stupid as it sounds to anyone who’s not a dancer. Every single pair she bought, she customized herself in painstaking detail. She only had so many outfits that she could buy, so her accessories needed to be on point. Some of the other dancers would tease her gently about all the added accessories: cowboy hats, feather boas, piles of costume jewelry. But Annie didn’t care because extra outfits meant extra money. Extra money that she didn’t have when she had another mouth to feed. Lost in her thoughts, she failed to hear Cherry flounce in until she felt her sticky arms come up to rest on her shoulders.
Cheryl, get away from me girl! What I tell you, leaning on me before a shower?’ Annie fussed. Cherry let out a huff of laughter. ‘Damn, my government, huh? What crawled up your ass and died, then?’
Annie rolled her eyes at her closest friend’s rudeness. ‘Girl, nothing. I’m just tired, you know how it is.’ Cherry began stripping down next to Annie, going from ‘Cherry’ to ‘Cheryl’, the girl who used to fall asleep on her couch while she braided her thick long hair when they were teenagers by the time she got to her pleasers, her process the exact same as Annie’s. Cheryl wiped herself down with a damp towel before throwing on a pair of baggy jeans and a t shirt that had seen better days.
Annie mimicked her friend’s movements; quick and efficient slipping her lower half into a pair of sweatpants with a matching top that Cheryl had begged on more than one occasion to toss. Annie, as stubborn as ever, had ignored her friend and kept it. After spending hours in impractical clothing, sometimes she just wanted something that felt like a second skin no matter how ‘ugly’ it was. Cheryl jangled her keys, hips swaying to a beat only she could hear. She placed a kiss on Annie’s cheek, the night finally over. ‘Say hey to little man for me, ok?’ Annie’s lips quirked to the side. ‘He misses his aunty.’ Cheryl sighed, cocking a hip. ‘I miss my little man too. I just gotta get straight and…’ Cheryl trails off, uncharacteristically silent. Annie squeezes her hand, ‘I know’ she replies gently. Cheryl rallies, struggles to smile before letting the pretense fall. ‘I’ll see you on Tuesday, ok?’ Picking up her duffle bag she strides to the exit, slips out the back, and then it’s just Annie again. Like always.
Her ride home was quiet..relaxing, even. Annie made sure that her car was always clean, not an easy feat with a three year old but she made it work. She spent so much time in her car; hustling from place to place, driving the distance between her home and the club, running errands to make sure she and her son had whatever they needed. She needed one place that could carry silence and peace when needed and as foolish as it might be to some people, she made that place her car. She very rarely felt at peace anywhere or with anyone. Strangely enough, she did feel at peace with Stack. When she danced for him in that room, it felt like he was seeing her. Not Nightrider, the fantasy she built from scratch after getting kicked out of her third foster home at fifteen, with nowhere to go. He saw Annie, the full, realized woman underneath, the person with bills, responsibilities, a back that still spasms despite her baby now entering toddlerhood, who lives with the loss of her mother, her guiding angel taken from her far too soon, too young. And he liked what he saw, he craved it, even. She tried to shake off the feeling, but she couldn’t. It clung to her, like honey on the skin. Sweet, sticky, deepening in her psyche. She pondered on it for so long that the drive flew by and before she knew it, she was in front of her apartment.
Cassandra, an angel in human form babysat Elisha for her on working nights. Her Aunt, her mother’s older sister who was more of a viper than a human, had offered to care for Elisha more than once. Annie would rather chew glass after drinking lime juice than entrust her baby to that woman. Cassandra was a neighbor who loved children and God knows, children loved her. She always had a soothing word, a well of patience, a warm meal to give to any child that came to her door. With Elisha, it was no different.
One night, Elisha was running a nasty fever. It wasn’t life threatening, but kids are walking germ machines. He most likely picked up a bug from daycare. Elisha was miserable and therefore, so was Annie. He refused to stay bundled up, he turned his face at all medicine she attempted to wrestle down his throat. His head hurt so much that his piercing whines became the soundtrack to the madness as Annie tried to gather tissues and wipe down counters while also keeping an eye on her son. She was at the trash chute, dumping the sick bags down the bay when Cassandra had seen her. Cassandra notes the tired eyes, the sweat gathered at the base of her neck and the sort of fatigue that clings, that stays, that says ‘it’s all on me.’
‘You ok?’ Cassandra’s soft melodious voice had asked. And something about the gently inquisitive nature had made Annie burst into tears. Later that evening, Cassandra had softly rocked Elisha in her arms, managing to get him to settle after hours of fussing. Annie nearly fell all over herself in thanks, Cassandra had insisted that her gratitude she come in the form of rest. So Annie had sat on the couch while Cassandra had made a water-free chicken soup with lots of ginger, wiped the messy microwave clean, detangled Elisha’s hair and braided it, cracked joked with Annie over Elisha’s slumbering frame.
Cassandra had been in her life ever since.
As the key unlocked the apartment, Cassandra stood, leaning against the slightly slanted wooden table. She smiled when she saw Annie, noticing how her fatigue did nothing to dim her natural radiance. ‘How was work?’ Cassandra asked softly. Annie shrugged. ‘More of the same. He wake up at all?’ Cassandra shook her head, but Annie was already moving, her heart unable to settle until she had placed eyes on her son herself. He lay on his stomach, one arm thrown over his head. His bonnet slipped off, revealing the fresh braids that Cassandra had installed for him. His toys decorated his bed like a shrine. Annie breathed a sigh of relief. Her baby was safe. All was well. She headed back into the living room. ‘He’s out like a light.’ She joked with Cassandra and Cassandra laughed.
‘He’s been driving me crazy with the Elmo reruns. Took him to the park to expend a little energy. And that was all he wrote.’ Annie nodded in approval before peeling some money from her night and handing it to Cassandra. Cassandra put it in her bosom and headed out the door.
Annie flexed her fingers, while getting something to eat. She knew she should probably eat a full meal, but the idea of rooting around that blinkered fridge, pulling out one of the prepped meals and warming it was too exhausting a prospect, so she posted up at the kitchen counter, eating Elisha’s fruit snacks instead, trying to stop her mind from drifting back to the man with the awestruck expression, voice dipped in honey following her…..
NEXT MORNING
Isadora Moore was having a good day. The pain that came with her sickness was mostly at bay and she decided that she would enjoy it. Her sons were here, at home. Fussing at her, finding things to repair. Grilling the home aid about any changes. She let them. She knew this was how they showed they cared and she also knew how scared they were. How scared they had become when her physician sat down across from the three of them carefully, announcing that he suspected she had sarcomas. Elias had immediately lashed out, asking the doctor what the hell that even was. Elijah was already on the phone looking up symptoms and rates of survival.
His jaw tightened more and more when he found out how rare the cancer was, how it wasted away the essence of the person- bones, fat, blood vessels and nerves.
Her boys held on so tight. Elias comes to visit every other day. Elijah loads up her bank account every month with obscene amounts of money. Still, it was rare that they were both at home at the same time and she was going to make the most of it. She made all their favorites. Catfish, macaroni and cheese, her ‘dense’ kale salad with strawberries and walnuts, smothered chicken, warm, fluffy biscuits. And for dessert? That’s where she really threw down (with help from her nurse of course) Elias had an incurable sweet tooth. Bread pudding, with a thick caramel sauce, a new york cheesecake, a buttery pound cake with a lemon glaze and a no churn butterscotch ice cream.
‘Mama’ Elias had breathed, eyes wide, when he looked at the spread in front of him.
‘You shouldn’t have’. Isadora waved her hand dismissively at her boy. ‘You don’t tell me what to do. Now sit down.’ Elijah said nothing, just gathered his mother close, pressing a kiss to the crown of her head. ‘Thank you Mama’ he almost whispered, deep voice rumbling out of his chest and into her heart.
When all of them settled, that’s when she peppered them with questions. How Elias’ garage was going. Praising Elijah for making managing partner at his accounting firm. Until finally they got to the bombs, the sensitive places of the heart that no one truly likes to discuss, but rots if it's ignored.
Over a glass of chilled hibiscus tea. Isadora watches Elijah, who is currently tearing into a piece of catfish like he has a personal vendetta. ‘How’s Yetunde?’ Isadora asks softly. Elijah freezes like the breath of a ghost whispered across his neck. He slowly puts down his utensils, intentional, calm. But if one looked closely they would notice the slight tremor of his hands. His mama always looked closely. ‘I don’t know mama. Haven’t spoken to her since the sale of the house.’ Smoke answers quietly, knowing that ignoring his mama’s question was not an option. Isadora nods. ‘Haven’t heard much from her either, but she be dropping stuff off.’ Stack raises an eyebrow at this. ‘What kind of stuff?’Elias asks. Isadora pushes the little food on her plate around. ‘Well, everything you eatin’ she either bought it or grew it.’ Isadora answers simply.
The table is as quiet as a church mouse on Sunday. ‘Mama-’ Elijah starts, frustration coloring his tone. But Isadora just raises an elegant hand, cutting off his thought. ‘Now don’t you start. That’s still my daughter, the mother of my grandbaby. Whether they here or not. And the food good ain’t it? So eat.’ Elijah frowns hard, the way he did when he was a little boy and he would press antiseptic to the wounds his father beat into her. Elias watched the mental parry between his mama and his brother, fascinated like always but before he could say something slick, his mama smiled at him, the same slick grin he inherited and pointed her butter knife in his direction. ‘Now don’t get cute, Elias. I got questions for you too.’ Stack groaned goodnaturedly while Smoke chuckled….
LATER THAT DAY
‘Fuck!’ Annie screams, lightly banging her fists against the steering wheel. Her car, her old faithful, her sanctuary, has finally given up the ghost. She’s tried to restart it multiple times but it refuses to enter into the land of the living. She takes a deep breath and considers her options. She can take an uber to pick up Elisha from daycare. But she cannot be in multiple ubers indefinitely. It was financially unsustainable. The money she just made was already halfway gone. Rent, utilities, food, enrichment toys, daycare, cloth and accessories for work, and the little bit extra in her Roth IRA meant she had very little that would keep her afloat from now until when she started working. She did not prepare for this unexpected expense, but then whoever did?
Sitting in the uber, all she could think about is how she was going to have to pull the money out of her ass in some way to get things up and moving and she was already exhausted. Elisha was so excited to be ‘fancy’, to have someone drive them around while he babbled on and on about his day, his sentences half formed as his brain quickly switched gears.
When they got back home, Annie put him in front of the TV, something she still felt guilty about, but she needed time to think. Just as she was spiraling, Cassandra knocked on her door. She would recognize that knock anywhere. Two quick raps followed by two slower ones. As soon as she opened the door and Cassandra saw her face, her smile fell.
‘I just don’t know what I’m gonna do, Cass. I don’t need this shit right now.’ Annie said tiredly, after unburdening herself. ‘I done told you to put that good for nothing man on child support. This is ridiculous, Annie!’ Cassandra responded, outraged. Annie just laughed tiredly. ‘Don’t I need a lawyer for something like that? Where am I going to get the money for that? Tell me. Besides, can’t file for child support when that muhfucka’ is a ghost.’ Cassandra perks up all of a sudden. ‘Wait, when my brother’s car quit on him, he went to this car garage near his house. Swears that they brought his car back to life. Saved him from having to get a new car. Lemme
text him.’
Annie lays back on her olive green sofa, breathing in deep, the smell of cocoa butter and johnson’s baby oil mixed with mushy peas filling her senses. The smell of her baby. ‘And then what? What if they ask for some crazy price” Annie presses. Cassandra rolls her eyes dismissively. ‘Oh boo, I’m sure you can negotiate. Chill, Annie. We gon’ figure this out.’ Cassandra scans her messages, waiting for her brother to respond. She taps Annie on the arm triumphantly. ‘Ah ha! It’s called Moore Life Garage! Ain’t too far from here. We need to head over there tomorrow. Can’t let this fester and possibly get worse.’ Cassandra says brightly. Annie groans in defeat. ‘Fine, whatever. But you’re gonna drop me off at the club then. And help me find a tow truck that can lug all that metal over there’. Cassandra grins at Annie. ‘Deal’, smugly agrees Cassandra. Annie just rolls her eyes heavenward before heaving off the couch to wake Elisha up. ‘Lord help me’ she mock whispers for Cassandra’s amusement, who belly laughs.
That was what Stack would think later — not the men, not the route she'd taken, not any of the hundred small decisions that had compounded into catastrophe. The wisteria. Because if Annie didn't love those ridiculous purple flowers the way she did, she wouldn't have made the detour she made every Tuesday, and if she hadn't made the detour, none of the rest of it would have happened.
But Annie loved her wisteria, and there was nothing to be done about that.
She had discovered the vine three springs ago, growing wild along the fence line of an abandoned lot on the far end of Decatur Street — a great sprawling tangle of it, untended, extravagant, spilling purple down the rotted wood like it had decided to be beautiful despite everything. She had stopped dead in the middle of the sidewalk and stared at it for a full minute. Stack had been with her that day, and he had watched her stare, and even then he'd known it was over.
She had gone back every Tuesday since.
Sometimes she brought cuttings home for her workroom. Sometimes she just stood there for a while, among the smell of it. Sometimes she brought a small cloth and wiped the blooms down — which was, Stack maintained, the most Annie thing that had ever happened in the history of Annie things.
"You cleaning flowers," he'd said once, watching her from the gate.
"They dusty," she'd said, without turning around.
"They outside, mama. They supposed to be dusty. They don't know the difference."
"I know the difference."
He had laughed until his ribs hurt. Had told Smoke that evening, and they'd both laughed again. And the next Tuesday she'd gone back, and the Tuesday after, and it had simply become part of the architecture of their week.
Tuesday was Annie's wisteria day.
That particular Tuesday morning, she'd been in good spirits.
Stack remembered that too — the specific quality of her mood, light and anticipatory, the way she'd hummed while she dressed and come to find him in the warm tangle of the bed where he was still trying to talk himself into consciousness.
She'd perched on the edge of the mattress and put her hand on his arm. "I'm heading out. Market first, then Decatur."
"Mm." He'd found her hand without opening his eyes. "Your flowers."
"My wisteria," she corrected, with the primness of a woman defending something she knew was ridiculous and had decided not to care. "They were coming in beautiful last week. I want to take some cuttings before the heat gets to em’."
"You and them flowers, I swear." He'd cracked one eye open to look at her. She was already done up — hair pinned, a pale yellow dress, looking like the kind of morning a man would want to wake up into. "Normal women collect dishes. Spoons. You out here unnaturally attached to a weed."
"Wisteria ain’t a weed."
"It's growing on an abandoned fence, in the middle of—"
"It is not a weed," she said, with great dignity, and he'd laughed and pulled her down and kissed her temple and her cheek and the corner of her mouth until she was trying not to smile and failing completely.
"You a crazy woman," he'd murmured into her hair. Fond. Helplessly fond.
"You in love with this crazy woman," she'd said back, soft and certain, and pressed her lips to his jaw before she stood and smoothed her dress and went.
He'd listened to her footsteps move through the house. The quiet of the front door.
Then he'd turned his face back into the pillow and gone back to sleep, easy and untroubled, because it was Tuesday and Annie was going to the market and then to her flowers and then home.
That was how Tuesday worked.
The juke was quiet in the late afternoon — the interim hour between the day men leaving and the night crowd arriving, when the place belonged mostly to the staff and the sound of chairs being set right.
Stack was going over the week's receipts at the back table when Deacon Hollis wandered in, which was not unusual. Deacon was seventy-something and had been drinking at this particular establishment through three different owners and two of his own wives. He came in most afternoons for one glass of something and whatever conversation was available.
He settled at the bar and said to the boy wiping down the counter, "Busy on Decatur Street today. Had to go all the way around."
Stack didn't look up.
The bar boy made a sound of mild interest.
"Some kind of commotion," Deacon continued, with the relish of a man who had no urgent business anywhere and could therefore linger on details. "Couple hours back, maybe more. Police come through, asked some questions. Seemed like somebody saw something they shouldn't have, or something got moved that shouldn't be."
Stack turned a page.
"Right near that empty lot," Deacon added. "The one with all them purple flowers on the fence."
Stack's hand stilled on the page.
Just his hand. Nothing else visible changed — not his expression, not his posture, nothing that the room would have clocked as meaningful. But his hand stopped moving, and in the space behind his eyes something very cold and very focused began assembling itself.
The lot with the purple flowers.
Annie's lot. Annie's Tuesday. Annie who had left that morning with a cloth in her bag for wiping down the blooms and had said I want to take some cuttings before the heat gets to them and whom he had not heard from since.
He set the receipts down.
"Deacon," he said, and his voice came out even. Measured. "What time you say that was?"
Deacon turned on his stool, pleased to have an audience. "Oh, two o'clock maybe? Half past? The officers was already gone by the time I come through, but old Ruth from the dress shop was still standing outside talking about it. Said she'd seen a woman—"
Stack was already standing.
Deacon blinked. "You alright, son?"
But Stack was already moving through the back, already pulling the curtain aside that separated the main room from the office where Smoke was doing what Smoke was always doing — sitting with numbers and a cigarette and that particular quality of stillness that could mean anything or nothing.
Smoke looked up.
He took one look at his brother's face and put the cigarette down.
"Talk," he said.
Stack talked. Smoke listened with the unnerving focus he brought to all things that required it, and when Stack finished, Smoke didn't say anything for a moment. Just looked at the middle distance. Doing the same arithmetic Stack had already done and arriving at the same unbearable sum.
Then he stood, picked up his coat, and said, "Let's go find out."
They found out.
A man named Lenny Briggs, one of their runners, who had heard something he hadn't known what to do with and had been working up the courage to come to the juke when Stack found him first on the corner of Fifth and Marsh. Lenny had the look of a man who would have preferred not to be found.
He told them what he knew.
Slim’s men — a rival outfit who had been circling the east side numbers territory for the better part of a year, looking for a pressure point, looking for the particular lever that would bring the Moore brothers to a table they hadn't chosen. They had found their lever. They had taken her off the street somewhere between the market and the lot — right around the wisteria, which Stack would think about for a long time after — and they had her at the old Beaumont property on the south road.
Lenny gave the address with the energy of a man trying to make a down payment on his own continued wellbeing. Stack received the information without expression, said "Thank you" in a voice that was quiet and even and somehow worse than shouting, and turned south.
Smoke fell into step beside him and put one hand briefly on his brother's arm. The old signal. Wordless. Be smart. We get her first. Everything else after.
Stack's jaw was granite. He nodded once.
They were smart. They were fast.
There were two men outside and three within.
Smoke handled the outside — efficient, practiced, the kind of violence that begins and ends cleanly because it has a purpose and knows what that purpose is. Then he pushed through the door.
Stack was still in the room with the last one.
The man was on the floor. Had been on the floor for a while, by the look of it. Stack was crouched over him, one knee on the ground, and he was not finished. The man had stopped being a threat some time ago and Stack had continued anyway, methodical and terrifyingly quiet — no rage in his face, which was somehow worse than rage. Just something hollow and absolute, like a door that had been opened onto nothing.
Smoke stood in the doorway for a moment and watched.
Then he said, "Stack."
Stack didn't stop.
"Stack." Harder this time. Not a shout — Smoke didn't shout — but weighted. The kind of voice that expected to be heard.
Stack's hand stilled.
He stayed crouched for a moment, breathing. The sound of it filled the room — ragged, too fast.
Smoke crossed to him and put one hand on the back of his neck. Firm and present. "She's in the back," he said, low. "She's okay. We got her. Come on back now."
A long beat.
Stack looked down at what was in front of him. Something shifted in his face — not quite recognition, not quite regret. More like a man surfacing from very deep water and finding the light strange.
He stood. Didn't say anything. Just turned and walked toward the back of the building, and Smoke followed, and neither of them looked back at the room.
The door came off its hinges.
Not broken — removed. Stack had simply decided it was in his way and dealt with it accordingly, and Smoke caught it without breaking stride and set it against the wall with the quiet efficiency of a man long accustomed to making the world cooperate, and stepped through the threshold behind his brother.
The room was dim. Smelled like damp wood and kerosene and something metallic that neither of them dwelled on.
And there, in the far corner —
There she was.
Their matriarch. Their woman. Their Annie.
Smoke exhaled. Just the one breath. One single moment of relief so complete it was almost physical, before he folded it away and put it somewhere safe.
Stack didn't bother with any of that.
He crossed the room in four long strides. Annie barely had time to register him before he pressed her back against the wall — not rough, not cruel, but absolute. Like he needed something solid behind her. Like he needed to know she couldn't be taken anywhere else.
"Stack—" Smoke started.
The younger twin didn't hear him. Or if he did, it didn't matter.
His hands came up to her face. Both of them. Palms bracketing her jaw, thumbs moving across her cheekbones, fingers pressing back into her hair. Frantic eyes cataloguing everything — the dried tear tracks, the slight swelling at her wrist, the small cut at the corner of her lip that made something behind his eyes go very briefly and very darkly wrong before he forced himself onward. Keep checking. Keep confirming.
Here. Alive. Breathing. Theirs. Home.
Annie had never felt more precious than in that moment. Not cherished — that was too soft a word for what was happening. Something rawer. Something that lived below language.
Once he had confirmed what he needed to confirm, he swept down and claimed what had always been his.
Blood still painted his face. She could smell the iron as he descended, and some distant sensible part of her registered that it should frighten her — the state of him, what it implied, the fact that none of that blood was his.
But she was not always a sensible woman when it came to these men.
She let him have it. Let him take the kiss like it was owed — because it was. Raw and primal and a little gruesome the way all true things are a little gruesome. His chest heaved against hers, and his hands were trembling — Stack's hands, which she had never once seen tremble — moving over her arms, her sides, her face. Touching. Feeling. Verifying.
She felt it all move through her like weather. His fear. His fury. His absolute, immovable devotion.
I know, she thought. I know, baby. I know.
She murmured it into his hair when he finally broke, forehead dropping to her shoulder, a shudder moving through him she felt with her whole body.
"I know. I'm here."
Smoke stood back and watched.
Because Stack needed this. Maybe Annie needed it too — to be held this completely, this desperately, after hours of not knowing when or whether. But Stack needed it most. So Smoke stayed where he was and gave the man the room.
Annie met the older twin's eyes over Stack's bowed head.
Nothing passed between them except everything. She saw the tightness at the corner of his jaw. The controlled version of the same thing Stack was barely containing. She held his gaze until she saw his shoulders drop a single fraction of an inch.
I see you. I'm alright. He's alright. We're alright.
Stack made a sound then — small and cracked and quiet, pressed into her shoulder. The kind a man makes only when he doesn't mean to. She felt it like something giving way.
She pulled him in tighter.
"It's okay," she murmured, hand pressing flat between his shoulder blades. "I'm here, baby. I ain't goin' nowhere."
He held on.
Annie had been the one taken.
But it was Stack who felt like he had lost his heart.
A long moment passed. Then, muffled against her shoulder, rough and still unsteady — somewhere between a reprimand and a man who had been terrified into raw honesty:
"And you ain't gon’ do no shit like that again."
Annie closed her eyes.
Her hand moved slow and steady through his hair.
"No," she said softly. "I ain't."
Smoke pulled the lamp low before he sat at the foot of the bed.
It was well past midnight. The house had gone completely quiet. Annie lay in the middle of the bed, Stack curved against her back with his face tucked into her hair, one arm thrown across her waist like a man holding on even in sleep.
Cleaned up now. Dressed down. The blood long gone — Annie had done it herself at the basin, quiet and methodical, and Stack had sat on the edge of the tub and let her. Had not said a word while she washed his hands and his face and his split knuckles, which told their own particular story that she had received without comment and without flinching.
She was awake. Smoke had known she would be.
"He out?" Smoke asked, low.
"Mm. Fought it some." Her hand moved slowly through Stack's curls. "But he's out."
A beat of quiet between them. The lamp flame held steady.
"You alright?" he asked.
"I'm whole," she said. Her particular answer — the one that meant something more than fine and less than undamaged and asked him to understand the distance between those things.
He accepted it. He would look at her properly in the morning.
"Elijah." Soft but weighted.
"I'm listening."
She was quiet a moment, eyes on the ceiling.
"I ain’t never seen him like that," she finally said.
Smoke was quiet too, for a long stretch of seconds.
He had been there. He had witnessed what Annie had not fully seen — what had happened in those rooms before they reached her. He knew the shape of what his brother had done, and he knew that Stack, of all people, of all the men Smoke had stood beside in all the years of their lives — Stack was not supposed to be the one who went that far past the line.
"No," Smoke said. "Neither have I."
She absorbed that. Let it settle.
"Was it bad?" she said.
"Depended," Smoke said, "on which side of it you were on."
A breath that was almost a laugh. "That ain't an answer."
"It's the honest one." He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, looking at his brother's sleeping face. The furrow still between his brows, even now. "He went past what was needed. Kept going after it was done. I had to call him back." A pause. "Twice."
Annie's hand stilled in Stack's hair for just a moment. Then resumed.
"He was ahead of me the whole way there," Smoke continued, quieter now. "I known Stack all my life. Watched him in situations that would've laid other men down. He's always had something working up here even when he's pushed — he thinks. He's always been able to think." He paused. "Tonight he wasn't thinking."
"What was he doing?" she said.
"Feeling," Smoke said simply.
Annie closed her eyes.
Stack shifted against her in his sleep, brow tightening, and she made a soft sound and his face smoothed again, like he could hear her even under everything.
"He knew something was wrong before anyone told him," she said. Not quite a question.
"Yes."
"How?"
Smoke was quiet for a beat. "Your flowers."
Annie stilled.
"Deacon came in talking about a commotion on Decatur. Near the lot." Smoke glanced at her. "Stack was across the room. He heard the words purple flowers and that was all it took."
Something moved across Annie's face. Too complicated to name.
"All those Tuesdays," she said softly.
"He knows your Tuesdays, Annie." Smoke's voice was matter of fact, the way he said things that were simply true and required no decoration. "He knows how long the market takes and which way you walk and what time you're usually back. He noticed before any message came. Before anyone came to us at all. He put it together himself."
She was very quiet for a moment.
"Lord," she breathed.
Outside, the wind moved through the pecan trees, that soft sound of a summer night settling into itself.
"You need to say something to him when he wakes," Smoke said. "Not about what happened in that room — he doesn't need to explain himself and you don't need the details. But he needs to hear that you see him the same." He looked at her steadily. "That tonight ain’t change your eyes when you look at him."
"It didn't," she said. And then, smaller: "It just — added to what's already there."
Smoke held her gaze for a moment. Then nodded once, slowly.
"And me," she said, after a breath.
"And you," he confirmed.
"Tomorrow."
"Tomorrow," he agreed. "When he's with us and you've both rested. But Annie." His voice dropped a register, quiet and absolute. "What you love doing, where you go — none of that changes. But how you move through the world when we not with you?" He held her gaze. "That's the conversation we're gon’ to have."
Annie's chin lifted slightly. She didn't argue it. But she held his gaze long enough to communicate that it would be a conversation and not a sentencing, and Smoke acknowledged that with the smallest dip of his head.
Good enough for tonight.
He rose and came around to his side — the familiar geography of their life, every night for years — and settled in.
The bed held all three of them, as it always had.
Annie lay in the dark and looked at the ceiling and listened to the two men breathing, one deep in sleep, one slipping toward it.
She thought about that morning. The yellow dress. The cloth she'd tucked into her bag for the blooms. Stack's voice still rough with sleep, laughing at her — you and those flowers, I swear — and pulling her down and kissing her like she was something ridiculous and wonderful and entirely his.
Crazy woman.
Your crazy woman.
She pressed her lips to his temple in the dark. Soft as a secret.
His arm tightened across her waist even in sleep.
Love should be calm, she thought. Peaceful. The kind of thing you can sleep inside of and wake up still held by.
But she thought about the words purple flowers landing across a quiet room. About the hand going still on the receipts. About Smoke’s thirty-some years of knowing someone so well that the wrong silence sounded like a scream.
The act of love, she thought, was something else entirely.
She exhaled.
She was home.
They were home.
Outside, somewhere, her wisteria grew on its rotting fence — untended, extravagant, stubbornly beautiful — and knew nothing about any of it.
______
A/N If you could find it in your hearts to forgive me? 🥺 Don't know what to say that would explain this absence so I'm not going to say anything. Feels like all I give ya'll is excuses for real. I am okay. Doing well. Life is just lifeing, interviewing for a new job (pray I get it!) I'll be in Chicago next week actually. So I'll def do some writing there :) Hope you're all well. Hope you enjoy this bite sized piece of our lovely trio. Love you <3
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This work of art is part of "The Moore Kind" universe. Where Smoke, Annie, and Stack exist as a Trio. If you'd like to learn more about them, check out My Masterlist 😘
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All Fic Taglist - Interested in my future works? Let me know if you'd like me to add you to my tag list. (Also lmk if you want me to remove you. No hard feelings I promise.)
Smoke is tired of sharing his wife with their kids, especially his greedy ass 9-month old son.
Inspiration: @urbnnoir's post, this TikTok, this request, this one, and this one. Also commentary from @margepimpson, @myheartsaysyes, @brownskincheyenne and @nika324
“Mama got her hair done!” Arianna shot up from her chair and gleefully skipped down the driveway.
Smoke leaned back in his fold-up chair. He was in the open garage of his home–their home–one hand holding a beer, the other on Elijah Jr, his 9-month old son who was bouncing up and down on his lap.
Annie pulled up in her Chrysler 300 with the windows down. He could hear the music all the way down the block, II Hands II Heaven by Beyoncé. She cut the engine and stepped out of the car like he’d been waiting for her his whole life.
It felt like he had.
His son squealed where he sat, already reaching out for his mama. Annie bent down to give Smoke a kiss and Junior latched right onto her hair as she picked him up.
Smoke loved his babies with every bone and breath in his body. He’d die for them. Burn the world down for them. But lately he was feeling…overlooked. Just when they got their five-year old to sleep in her own bedroom, here comes another baby to throw a wrench in their routine.
Junior was a second child to his core. Needy, fussy, and possessive over his mama like Annie wasn’t Smoke’s woman first. Every time he breast fed, he would look at him with droopy lids and a look in his eyes that said “these my titties now, nigga.” Smoke tried not to be jealous, he really did. But every time he found Annie passed out in the bed from tending to his kids, he died a little inside.
But tonight was different.
Annie walked out of her car, hair styled just right, looking at him like she was ready to pounce.
She was sending a message. She wanted him, and he was gonna take what belonged to him, for once and for all.
Soooo...what are we thinking? Yes? No? Let's collaborate.
Synopsis: When Annie agreed to one last beach day before flying home, she never imagined it would end with her moaning her ex-boyfriend’s name in front of a dozen strangers.
If only her cousin hadn’t insisted on coming to this special beach, nothing would have ever happened. Well… maybe she’s glad that it did?
No minor allowed. Be cautious.
It was her first time going to such beach. It sure wasn’t on purpose, La Hacienda was crowded with other tourists — children here, couple there, groups sprawling everywhere. Even the locals were somewhat pissed by the affluence.
Anyway. Annie’s holidays ended tomorrow and she only went to swim twice, so today she would miss no occasion.
Claire, her cousin, sold her this private spot too goodly : “there no much people where we goin’, certainly because it’s kinda special.”
“What you mean?”
“Went there last year with my friends. You got more freedom than anywhere else.”
“Claire.” Annie arched a brow.
“Aight. Aight.” Claire turned on a narrow line. “It’s a topless, nude beach.”
Annie spat out the water she was chugging, her eyes widening. She chewed the words in her mouth then swallowed them.
She won’t complain. It was her last day of vacation. And certainly a little adventure wouldn’t hurt.
The two women quickly arrived at destination. Claire parked the car between two giant trees, then get out, followed by Annie.
“Let’s get changed.”
“Oh holy moly. Ain’t no restroom either?” Annie rolled her eyes, sliding her panties off her thighs.
She folded the fabric and put it in her duffel bag. Then, she slip out of her summer dress, spilling her heavy tits free. The two pairs wiggled in motion, rubbing each other. “You and your little reckless situations. Last time you count me in…” she mumbled to her cousin while bending over to grab her dress on the grass.
Annie’s pussy lips parted lightly and clit peeked out, when she straightened, her ass bounced, dancing to the rhythm of her movements.
“Don’t cause a storm bending over like that on the shore girl” Claire — who had already wrapped a towel around her naked body — laughed, playing.
“I’m wearing my bikini.”
“You ain’t no fun. Let the titties breathe at least.”
Annie eyed up her cousin, a funny grimace on her face. Claire ducked up her lips, wincing at the too serious woman in front of her. After exchanging looks for at least two minutes, Annie resigned.
She looked for her bikini’s bottom only, got into it and stood exasperated. “Happy?”
“Damn yeah.”
While they packed up their snacks basket, they heard a small noise — of a branch cracking, few feet’s away.
Annie turned to look past her cousin’s shoulder, the marine breeze erecting her nipples. “You heard that?”
“Yeah. There’s another car parked two trees down, must be one of them folk walking toward the shore.”
“Ok. So you just brought me to some pre-historic, unbuilt beach where people just stand their bongs and coochies out in the air?”
“Mmh. I don’t like the way you wording it…but yeah.”
Annie shook her head and took the basket, heading down the sand.
The cousins searched for a spot to place their basket, towels and parasol. They found one between two big rocks, near the shore and wild waves.
Claire removed her towel, flashing her full nudity — her hourglass shaped body earned some glances, she wrapped her locs in a cloth, picked the sun cream and massaged her perky boobs, pinching the stiffened buds, rolling them between her fingers. She then bob down, her round ass facing a group of men — a muscular brown skin with dreadlocks, a dark skin slim-body one with cornrows braids and a bear-sized, bulky honey complexion with bald shaved head and full thick beard.
Claire had no business swaying her hips while oiling her thighs. Annie wasn’t dumb enough to think it was all coincidence.
“They hung as fuck Claire. You ain’t shit.”
“Hm? What are you talking about Annie?” Claire crouched down on all four this time, right beside the snack basket. She arched her back deeper, lifting up her ass cheeks as she rummaged the basket for nothing.
“The snack you looking for ain’t in that damn basket Claire.” Annie rolled her eyes, smirking. “You got dem niggas grabbing their balls and shit.”
Annie saw it all behind her sunglasses. The locsed one was playing hard to get but the monster between his sturdy legs fooled no one - full engorged, jerking, swaying left and right. His deep brown dick looked hungry, impatient.
However, this man wasn’t the one who made her laugh the most. The prize went to the two others : the braided one had turned his eyes off Claire but his hand kept playing with his cock head. He jerked off slow, grazing along his thick shaft with one hand, the other palming his full , sagging balls. Each time Annie shifted under the parasol, he turned away, his eyes on the sea.
The bear guy was more frank with it, he was even moaning, mumbling things under his beard.
“I’m goin’ to swim.” Claire said.
“Suuure.” Annie replied, trailing off. “Don’t forget to PROTECT yourself against the WAVES.”
Ten minutes now that Claire disappeared and surprisingly — not really — the three guys too.
Annie sighed. The heat between her legs wouldn’t cool down : her clit grazed against the smooth fabric of her bikini, the friction watering her pussy.
She breathed through her mouth, grabbing one of her breasts, the flesh spilled out between her fingers, her nipple twitched fat and hard. She rolled her peaked button between her index and thumb. With the other hand, she slid the panties totally aside, exposing her glistening and thumping pussy.
She would have sworn to be alone on this side of the shoreline until she heard a rough deep laugh few towels down hers. She precipitately pumped her fingers out of her leisurely creamy honeypot — her throbbing inner walls releasing the sweet pressure in a blop.
“Fuck—” she moaned, jerking her thighs inward before yanking a random cloth she brought, on her thighs.
The gruff voice intensified, laughter growing more and more closer. She shouldn’t have been aroused by such situations — if only she didn’t recognize that tone.
“Oh no please not there.”
Annie hid her face with a book she grabbed from Claire’s bag.
With all the countries he could’ve went on vacation, he chose there?
She heard footsteps approached, four of them, then, they stopped for a moment. Seconds later she heard the noise faded out while two others steps seemed to grow closer and closer to her.
“So Clair ditched you after all?”
Shit. Shit. Shit.
Let’s ignore him, he will eventually feel awkward and leave. Thats what Annie thought at this instant, her titties tensing from the sudden scrutiny and sea breeze.
She closed her eyes when she felt the book on her face gradually flying up. “Someone lost his pretty doll there..”
Bumping into her ex was definitely not on her bingo list. And, it wasn’t the kind of ex you could simply dismiss with a “leave me alone” or “get lost.”
Annie breathed difficult, her heart sinking in her stomach, tangling with her intestines. The hot steam between her legs burned harsher, her swollen tits swelling big and bigger, nipples pulsing with need.
“You ain’t with another random bitch today Smoke.” She opened her eyes, taking her sunglasses off. “How surprising. She blocked your ass?”
Uninvited, Smoke crouched pretty close beside her — his throbbing curved cock grazed her side, the length jerking and smacking her rolls rhythmically.
He was doing that on purpose. Nobody could ever be more annoying than this man. “You’re indecent.”
“She said, her thighs parted, fingering her pussy.” He continued with a narrative tone. “ I could help, you know…” he leaned over, his lips brushing the nape of her neck. “Aint no one knowing this body better than I do…”
He traveled his palm over her stomach to her mound through the cloth she had messily thrown on her body. Annie tensed up when he got rid of the fabric, pushing her drenched bikini bottom aside.
He rubbed her clitoris while two of his fingers slipped sticky inside her tight and creamed pussy.
“Ge—get l—l—lost” she whimpered, panting with her lips parted, a net of drool dribbling from her mouth.
“Fuck… you dripping wet babe, that’s how you feel mmmh—?” He pumped her vagina in and out, queefing her soggy and stretchy hole.
Annie’s hips bucked up, thighs jerking sloppily. She contracted her big ass cheeks, bringing her nipples to her mouth, lapping her stiffened milking buds.
Smoke thrusted her deep and deeper, her hot and gummy inner walls squeezing his fingers. He hit down her G-point — pleasure was so intense, Annie spread her thighs wide, leaving the sea breeze caressing wildly her erected clit, giving a show to whoever was lucky to peep on her fatty, scrumptious and sheeny cunt.
“Good girl.” He whispered, leaning near her ear. “You want them to watch me fuck that pussy huh?” Smoke accelerated his jerks, baking her vagina. He slid a third finger then a fourth, playing piano between her granulous, gooey, mushed-cream walls.
Annie’s lactating breast was sloshing hot and sweet milk down her throat, while she kept nibbling, toying with her puffy, sensitive nipple.
Smoke’s throbbing meat slapped on her bare belly as he straightened up lightly — his sagging full balls clapping on her side.
His fingers squelched out of her soaked pussy, leaving her walls clenching desperately around nothing. Annie whimpered at the loss, her hips rolling up, searching for more. He hooked his thumb into the side of her bikini bottom and yanked it away before tossing it.
“Mmmmh prettier that way.” He poked her clit with his thumb. “Let show dem how slutty you are.”
He groaned while his cock jerked violently against her stomach, smearing a thick bead of precum across her skin.
She was completely exposed and left panting — her lush and swollen pussy’s lips glistening, clitoris erected and pulsing.
Smoke’s whole body shuddered as his right hand gripped hard on her thick thigh, gaping it wide from the other. “Fuck babe…ya got the juiciest puss I ever seen…damn how you do that shit”, he rasped with a gravelly voice while watching her cum gushing out her hole to the swell of her ass.
He wrapped his left fist tight around his shaft, spat on his monstrous, veiny dick and stroked himself slow and slick — back and forth, up and down. Smoke’s knuckles dragged across her pudgy belly with each pump, while his sagging, bloated testicles smacked against her side-rolls, relentless.
Annie moaned, her tongue slurping on her tit before dropping her mouth off the voluptuous flesh, lips sheeny and wet.
Smoke’s right palm roamed up her leg, spreading her wider as his breathing gone ragged.
He slid his hand between her gaped thick thighs, two fingers plunging back into her creamy heat while his thumb found her clit. “Shit— you driving me crazy babe. That pussy hotter than an oven…” He growled, circling the swollen bud with maddening slowness while his other hand continued squeezing his cock, stroking himself against her belly.
Annie’s pussy tautened, clenching around Smoke’s fingers. She arched up, her breasts bouncing, rubbing each other seconds before swaying to each of her sides.
Her head fell back, coils brushing the sand as she stared up at the bright sky. And that’s when she saw him. Upside down at first, just a shadowing shape in the shimmering water. She blinked twice, lifting her head slightly : a lean, toffee-skinned man maybe twenty feet out, treading water.
He was completely still, watching them, hand in water — surely masturbating.
Their eyes locked and Annie didn’t shy away — a naughty smirk curling her lips. Instead, she let her thighs fall deeper.
She rolled her hips up deliberately, giving the stranger a full view of her fat, creamy pussy spread wide, stretched around Smoke’s pumping fingers, his hard, long, bulky and curved cock resting heavy on her belly, his balls hanging low and full against her side.
The man’s mouth opened slightly, his strokes underwater waving off.
Annie’s heart started to beat faster and faster, the excitement of being seen overflowing in her core. Her voluptuous tits wiggled, teased by the strength of Smoke’s finger-thrusts in her cunt.
A hot wave drove through her entire body, flushing steamier at her bottom back. She darted her eyes aside and saw another man — maybe fifty feet away — standing on sand next to the no children allowed — adult only sign : a white old guy, touching his tiny worm, balls bigger than the thing itself.
She quickly moved her gaze, grimacing and focused on Smoke.
“There she is…” he groaned, fingering deep, jamming, pounding the circle soft flesh inside her pussy as her inner walls trapped his fingers. “Always needed an audience, ain’t you?”
Spasms of pleasure made Annie convulse, her tits dripping milk, hips bucking up, ass cheeks clamping to each other as she hit her orgasm. She gushed a wild flow of her juice, coating Smoke’s hand while her thighs shook uncontrollably.
“Maybe I just want…want them to see how…how…mediocre you are…fuck—” she gasped, her nutting-face grimacing, tongue out.
Smoke pulled his soaked fingers out of her, and urgently, he moved from her side to between her legs — his knees sinking into the sand while his large hands held her thighs. Annie’s breath hitched as she watched him position himself, his curved, massive cock bobbing between them, precum dripping onto her mound.
He gripped his shaft and dragged the swollen head down through her slick folds, coating himself. Then he pressed against her entrance, making her whole body jolt. Annie’s hips bucked up, a moan ripping from her throat. Her pussy clenched, trying to pull him inside, but he held back.
“Mediocre, huh?” Smoke growled with a husky, gravelly voice. He slapped his cock against her throbbing clit, watching her thighs tremble under him. “Aight babe. Don’t tap out when I got you screaming my name in front of all these motherfuckers.”
Annie held his gaze — dark, intense, pupils blown wide, hungry.
Her glossy lips parted as she felt him stretching her entrance, pussy swelling to seize him. His flushed deep brown dick-head pressed insistent but not entering her yet.
Annie whimpered, digging her fingers in the sand, milk beading at her lactating nipples as her chest rose and fell rapidly.
“Act more than you yap, baby.”
Smoke arched a brow, definitely bothered by her sass. His nostrils flared, teeth gritted and jaw shut. He leaned forward, the blunt head of his cock notching against her gaping hole. Annie’s pulse hammered as she became more and more aware of her surroundings. She felt it all at once: the sea breeze cooling her sweat-slicked skin, the sound of waves crashing, and the prickling sensation of being watched.
She glanced past Smoke’s shoulder and realized that the swimmer had drifted closer to shore, half-hidden behind a rock, jerking his fat dick off, loads of cum plopping white and viscous on the sand. A couple had stopped walking down the beach, pretending to adjust their towel but clearly watching. Even the old man had moved closer, shameless. Annie’s heart pounded harder, heat flooded her belly. All those eyes on her spread thighs, her leaking pussy, the massive dick about to split her open and fuck her in broad daylight.
The thought made her inner walls flutter, pumping out a new flood of juice: slickness dripping down to the towel beneath her.
Smoke pushed inside.
The strain, dilation, stole Annie’s breath. Her spine bowed, heels digging trenches in the sand as he fed her inch after inch.
“Oh—oh fuck—” she gagged, stumbling on the words.
Smoke locked his jaw, a vein pulsing in his temple as he sank deeper, his girth forcing her open until he hit her pelvis.
“Yeah?” He pulled back dramatically slowly, dragging every ridge along her inner walls. “That’s what I thought.”
Before she could answer, he snapped his hips forward, punching a high-pitched scream from the back of her throat. He didn’t stop—withdrew and slammed her pussy again, then again, building a relentless cadence that had her breasts whipping side to side, droplets of milk spraying into the air.
“Still—ahh—that—all you—you got?” Annie managed between gasps, even as her nails raked down his forearms.
Smoke barked out a laugh. He hooked his arms under her knees and shoved her thighs back until her knees nearly touched her shoulders.
The new angle drove him impossibly deeper, hitting a spot that immediately whitened her eyes.
“You got jokes?” Each word marked by a brutal thrust. “Let’s see you crack one more.”
Annie gasped, hiccuping. Her hands scrabbled at his shoulders, his chest, finding no purchase as he pinned her folded beneath him.
“That’s what I thought.” He released one leg to wrap his fingers around her throat—choking her.
“Say my name.”
“F-fuck off—”
He slowed down to an agonizing grind, circling his hips so his pubic bone ground against her clit with each rotation. Annie wailed, aggravated, her walls clenching desperately around him. “Wrong answer, babe. Try again.”
“Smoke—” she whined, her words strangled and needy.
“Louder.” He thrust in hard and deep again, pounding her meat. “Let ‘em hear who’s fucking you.”
“Smoke! Fuck—Smoke—FUCK ME ELIJAH”
“Oouh even the government name baby? Yeah..that’s how I like it…” He tightened his grip on her throat, his other hand pressing her thigh back farther as he jammed her with each squelchy pound.
Annie’s walls spasmed around him, her toes curled, vision blurring toward another peak, thighs trembling violently as the pressure built low in her core. She was right on the edge when—
Smoke pulled out completely.
“What the fuck—no” Annie’s hips jerked upward, her pussy pulsing empty and desperate. She’d been seconds away, and now her whole body screamed for the release he’d just stolen. “Smoke, I swear to god—”
“Swear to god what?” He knelt back on his heels, fist wrapped around his soggy cock. “You think you can get bossy ’round here?”
Annie propped herself up on her elbows, glaring at him. “You’re really gonna play games right now?”
“You want this dick back?” Smoke stroked himself lazily, his eyes dragging over her curvaceous body. “Be a good girl for me, turn around and get on your knees.”
“You’re such an ass—” she defied, but her body was already obeying, rolling over onto her stomach before pushing up onto all fours. Her voluptuous breasts swayed beneath her, milk still beading at her nipples and dripping onto the towel below.
“Mmmh…good girl.” Smoke moved behind her, his large hands roaming over the swell of her ass, squeezing and gaping her cheeks wide, then releasing them in a loud clap — he did that twice, then thrice. Annie felt the fire of his stare, she imagined exactly what view he had — and what everyone else watching was getting too : her gaped, creamy pussy, swollen and soaked, vagina still throbbing from the denied orgasm.
Annie expected him to slide back into her, to finish what he started.
Instead, she felt his cock head press higher, notching against her bootyhole.
Her whole body went still and her breathing caught.
“Oh, so you finally quiet?” Smoke spanked her ass, making her peach bounce, flesh wiggling. “You gonna let daddy ruin this ass, baby?”
Annie squirmed, biting her lip. She dropped her chest further down to the towel so her ass lifted higher, and reached back with one hand to spread her ass cheeks open for him. “Take what’s yours, daddy.”
“Fuck…” He spat in his palm and rubbed it over his tip, then smeared the wetness dripping from her gushing pussy on his thumb. He pressed the pad against the tight ring of her anus, circling the rim slowly. A shiver ran through Annie’s spine, she squeaked, her whole body tense with anticipation.
Smoke slid it into her booty carefully and gradually — he pushed his thumb inside to the first knuckle, twisting, working her open. And when he pulled out to add his index finger alongside it, the dual stretch made her spine bow deeper.
“How you so tight back here but talk all that shit?” He wet his lip, smacking her cheek hard with his free hand. “This ass been waiting for me, huh?”
Smoke scissored his fingers in her butthole, her inner muscles clamping around the intrusion. The burn was intense but not unbearable, especially when he reached around with his other hand to find her swollen clit, rubbing tight circles that made her pleasure peak through the discomfort.
“Smoke—please—” Annie’s hips rocked between his hands, caught between the fingers stretching her ass and the ones rubbing her clit.
“Please what?” He pulled out his fingers and positioned himself right behind her. The blunt head of his cock pressed against her slick, pulsing bootyhole, and Annie tensed despite herself.
“Please fuck me—need you—daddy please—”
“Yeah baby…You want daddy to fuck that pretty tight hole, huh? Relax that ass for me, ain’t want to hurt you…”
Annie exhaled slowly, loosening her muscles, and Smoke gripped her hips with both hands and pushed forward. The initial breach stole her breath. Indeed, the resistance was intense, her body was fighting the intrusion as she tried to relax around his width.
She buried her face in the towel, biting down on the fabric to muffle her cry.
“Aaaarh” Smoke grunted, “Fuck—yeah…that’s my girl…mmh fuck—that ass so tight for me—” His voice came out strangled, his whole body shaking with the effort of holding back — going slow when all he wanted was to thrust his length deep and hard inside her. The hot and tight grip of her anus on his cock was too much, unbearable. “Talk to me, baby. You good?”
“Don’t—don’t stop,” Annie was panting, sweat rolling down her spine, her pussy dripping juice that ran down her thighs. “More—” she gasped. “Give me more—”
He sank deeper, working in small thrusts that pushed him further each time until finally his hips met her ass. They both went still, Smoke fully seated inside her, Annie’s whole body quaking as she adjusted to his overwhelming fullness.
“Fuck, you feel that?” Smoke leaned over her back, his chest against her spine. “That’s all of me, baby. Every inch.”
“You…ta…talking a lot,” Annie grunted. “You a bitch or a man? Fuck me like you meant all that shit you were yappin’.”
Smoke’s eyes darkened, his brown pupils dilated, jaw shut. He straightened up, gripped her hips almost brutally, his calloused hands holding tight, and pulled his dick all the way out before driving back in one shot.
Annie screamed raw, loud and shameless. “Gnn—ye—yes…fuck…Gnn” she whined, gritting her teeth.
He did it again, more roughly this time, his length chafing her rim.
“This what you wanted?” He thrust deeper with each back and forth, already baking, creaming her ass. “Wanted me to ruin this ass in front of everybody?”
“Yes—fuck yes—harder daddy—” Annie was beyond shame now, her hand snaking beneath her to rub her own clit frantically.
“Greedy little slut,” Smoke growled, grinning, sweat beading on his forehead. “Can’t get enough, huh? Ya fat pussy wasn’t enough, now you need this ass filled too?”
“Yes—please give it to me—”
He slapped her cheek again, the same spot as before, and the renewed sting made her clench around him.
Smoke kept penetrating Annie, his thick penis spoiling her hole back and forth in a punishing rhythm. Her ass burped cream, gushing out a load of her thick, goopy cum mixing with white discharges.
Her eyes whited out, drool leaking from her mouth, drenching the towel as she instinctively began to bounce her big ass fervently, back and forth—her soft, pudgy flesh wiggling messily.
She clapped her cheeks on his dick, suffocating his length.
Smoke stopped any motion, letting her lead for a moment.
Annie took full control, her breath ragged as she bounced on him. She rolled her hips in grand circles, then pulled forward until just his tip remained inside her before slamming back, taking him to the hilt.
She was setting the pace now : fast then slow, grinding then bouncing, her fat ass clapping against his pelvis with each backward thrust.
Smoke groaned, his head falling back as he watched her cheeks ripple and shake, completely mesmerized by the view of his cock disappearing into her again and again.
Around them, the amount of voyeurs increased. The swimmer stayed put, his cock stained with cum, keeping masturbating — one hand working his shaft frantically, mouth hanging open as he watched Annie’s performance. His other hand cupped his balls, rolling them as his hips jerked forward into his fist.
Near another part of the shore, the couple from earlier had given in to it —the woman sat with her back against her partner’s chest, his hand buried down the front of her bikini bottoms while her own hand reached behind to stroke him through his shorts, their eyes staying locked on Annie and Smoke.
The white old man had moved even closer — four or five feet away —shameless and bold in his observation, muttering nasty things under his breath that neither of them could hear over the crash of waves. He was still toying with his ridiculous micro-penis, cumming a lot.
Three more figures had appeared along the shoreline, some frozen in shock, others clearly aroused, all of them unable to look away from the show.
Anyway, Annie didn’t care about any of them anymore. Her focus had narrowed to the massive cock of Smoke gaping her hole. She eased up her chest, squeezing her tits, milking them dry, as she continued to twerk on his dick. “Fuck—fuck—Smoke—I’m—”
That’s when Smoke’s patience snapped. His hands clamped down on her hips hard enough to bruise, halting her movement completely.
“Shhh— no.” His voice came out rough and possessive. “You had your fun, baby. Now it’s my turn.”
He pulled her hips back flush against him, burying himself as deep as possible.
“God—” she whimpered, bruising her swollen nipples as her mouth parted, panting hard.
“No baby. He ain’t there. It’s just me.”
Smoke pounded into her with raw, primal intensity, each thrust brutal and claiming. He dug his fingers painfully into the soft flesh of her hips, using his grip to pull her back onto him even as he lurched forward. The squelchy, mushy sound of their soggy skin rubbing and slapping against each other echoed across the beach, mixing with Annie’s increasingly incoherent cries.
“All that ass—mine—” Smoke lost control, his thrusts, strokes becoming savage, primal and instinctive —movements jerky.
Sweat dripped down his chest and back, his muscles straining with the effort. “Say it—tell me who this belongs to—”
Annie tried to speak but only choked sobs of pleasure came out. Her hand still pumping out her milk, her clit throbbing achingly. The overstimulation dragged her toward another edge.
Her arms gave out, her full breasts collapsing — wet — to the towel while her ass stayed high in the air, completely at his mercy.
Smoke got on one knee, his other leg flat on the towel. The new angle allowed him to explore deep, almost inside her stomach.
She gushed, foaming thick and sticky as he creampied her ass.
“Smoke—daddy—please—I’m gonna—fuck I’m—”
“Yeah baby, come on this dick. So everybody hears you fall apart.”
Annie’s body seized, back arching violently as she shrieked his name, squirting all her delicious juice over his veiny, throbbing dick. Her inner walls clamped down on him hard, milking him dry. The tightness of her butt with the view he had of her swollen, spread and creamy ass shoved Smoke over his own orgasm.
“Fuck—Annie—baby—” His hips stuttered, losing balance as he reached climax. He buried himself as deep as possible and held there, his cock pulsing as he emptied himself inside her, filling her with loads of cum.
Annie’s face pressed into the towel, drool and tears soaking the fabric beneath her cheek, her whole body convulsing as her own orgasm ripped through her.
For a moment they stayed locked together, both gasping, hearts beating fast. Their breathing shallow and ragged.
Then Smoke’s hands flexed on her hips. He pulled back, his length sliding free from her — now extremely gaping anus— with a wet sound. Cum leaked out immediately, running down over her pussy lips and dripping onto the towel.
Annie’s body started to sag forward, her thighs trembling too badly to hold her up anymore.
Smoke’s hands caught her hips before she could fall. His fingers dug in, holding her ass in the air even as her upper body went boneless. “Aww Bunny…where you think you going?”
Annie turned her head, looking back over her shoulder. Her eyes were glazed, unfocused, tears and drool streaking her face.
When she saw his dick still standing hard and proud, she hiccuped.
Smoke adjusted his grip, spreading her cheeks with his thumbs. His eyes grazed on her swollen, dripping pussy — clenching and releasing, cream and juice running down her thighs. His cock jerked between them, still fully erect, veins bulging along the shaft, precum already beading at the tip again.
“Smoke—” Annie’s voice cracked. “You just—we just—” she panted.
“I know.” He lined himself up, gripping his cock with one hand, dragging his tip down through the mess of her slick folds. The contrast made him shudder: the tight grip of her ass versus the wet, welcoming fire-heat of her pussy. “Can’t stop, baby. Need all of you.”
Annie’s eyes widened, her hands scrabbled against the towel, trying to find purchase. “Wait—we can’t—too much—”
But her hips rolled back, contradicting her words, opening herself to him.
“This pussy ain’t got enough of my dick, Bunny.” He pressed forward, penetrating her in a smooth motion. His thrust made Annie’s back arch, a high-pitched whine escaping her throat.
Her pussy swallowed, gulping his cock easily, her inner walls fluttering hot and clenching around him. “Fuck—yeah…baby welcome daddy back home—shit”
He libidinously, leisurely shoved himself into her, his slimy, gooey and sticky dick grazing her grainy walls, making her pussy squelch, spitting and queefing.
“Look how fucking wet you are, dripping all over yourself.”
“Fuck—oh god—Smoke I can’t—” Tears streamed down her face. Her body didn’t know whether to pull away or push back for more.
Smoke didn’t give her time to decide. He backed off and banged in again, his pelvis smacking against her ass. His hands slid from her hips up to her waist, clutching tight. “Yes you can. Gonna take it all, baby.”
“FUCK !” Annie’s scream rang loud. Smoke set a brutal pace immediately : no building, no easing her into it. Each thrust punched the air from Annie’s lungs, drove her forward on the towel. Her breasts dragged across the fabric, milk leaking fresh from her nipples with every pounding. Her vagina felt impossibly tight around him, her walls immediately clamping down and fluttering. The wet heat swallowing his cock made Smoke’s vision blur.
Annie reached up between her ass flesh to finger her enlarged, sore bootyhole and immediately regretted it. The first touch sent electricity shooting through her core — pleasure so intense it bordered on pain. She jerked her hand away, then brought it back, unable to stop fingering herself, chasing the sensation despite how overwhelming it was.
“Yeah—fuck yeah—” Smoke withdrew and drove in again, his balls slapping against her clit. “This what you needed, huh? This fat dick in your pussy after I fucked that ass?”
Annie failed to answer, draining off all sass. Her mouth hung open, irises rolling in grimace, drool pooling on the towel as she fingered her ass and he pounded into her.
Each thrust felt like it was hitting her stomach, rummaging her insides, making everything too much, too intense. Her demons overpowered her — she arched deep, spreading her thighs wide and removed her fingers from her anus to shoot between her legs, finding her big swollen clit, rubbing it erratically.
“Look at you—” Smoke grunted husky, grinning. “You pretty whore, can’t even help yourself, gotta play with that clit while I’m fucking your cunt. Such a nasty bitch…”
“Yes—yes—daddy—I’m your nasty bitch—” Annie wailed between two sobs. “That pussy—all yours daddy—fuck her raw…aaah…fuck me—ruin me—spoil me…I’m your little slut daddy—fuck…”
Smoke hooked his arm around her waist and hauled her up so her back pressed against his chest.
“Gonna pump this pussy full too—” His lips were right against her ear, his breath hot on her neck. “Gonna fill you with so much cum it’ll be leaking out for days. Those bastards watching bout to know I bred this pussy.”
“Aaahhh I’m—”
“Do it—do it bunny, cum on daddy’s dick.”
“FUUUCK—” Her pussy clamped down on him, her whole frame tensed in his arms as she came harder than her two first orgasms. She squirted, her release gushing out around his pistoning cock and splashing onto the sand. Her vision whited out completely, only Smoke’s arm around her waist keeping her from collapsing.
The feeling of her coming apart in his arms, her pussy milking his cock, rushed Smoke over the edge for the second time. “Annie—fuck—take it—take all this nut baby—”
He plunged his length as deep as possible, his cock pulsing as he filled her with thick ropes of cum. His hips jerked erratically, grinding against her ass while he filled her wildly.
He didn’t drain himself dry inside her. His grip shifted from her waist to her shoulders, and in one fluid movement he flipped her onto her back. Annie’s body hit the towel, sand puffing up around them.
Her legs fell open, boneless and trembling, her chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath.
Smoke straddled her, his knees sinking into the sand on either side of her. His curved cock — still hard and leaking —jerked, hovering inches above her face. She watched through heavy-lidded eyes as he wrapped his fist around himself.
“Open that pretty mouth for me, bunny,” he growled, stroking his dick fast and rough. His other hand cupped her jaw, thumb pressing against her bottom lip.
Annie’s lips parted obediently, her tongue lolling out — hot and needy. She submitted to him as she always did the past seven years they were together.
Her big daddy.
Smoke’s face twisted, his jaw clenching, lips smirking as his grip tightened around his shaft.
He pumped roughly three more times and came with a guttural groan : thick ropes of cum spurting across her face. The first stripe landed across her forehead and nose, the second painted her cheek and lips, the third dripped down her chin and throat. The fourth flood poured, thick, mushy, sticky and dense on her tongue. She swallowed, drinking his cum, licking her lips — her hazed eyes still holding his gaze.
Smoke kept stroking, milking every last drop onto her deep brown complexion until she was glazed and soaked, her climax-drunk expression now obscenely bathed with his release.
He staggered back, a satisfied sneer curved across his face. “That’s my girl. Good job, Bunny.”
He cupped her face, leaning over, his thumb smearing cum messily on her face. “Still got that freaky side, huh?” He murmured, “Thought maybe you lost it after all this time.”
“Fuck off.” She laughed.
Around them, the beach had gone mute. The voyeurs had disappeared: the swimmer long gone, the couple too busy dealing with their own affairs, even the shameless old man had finally shuffled away.
It was just the two of them, the abandoned towel, and the gentle waves of the ocean.
Smoke stood up and reached down for her. “Come on, babe. Let’s get you cleaned up.”
Annie waved him off, already trying to push herself up on shaky arms. “I can walk on my own two damn feet, Smoke. I’m not—”
Before she could finish, he bent and scooped her up — one arm under her knees, the other around her back —lifting her like she weighed nothing.
“Elijah Moore! Put me down!” She yelled, indignant. “Come on nigga, you know I’m too heavy for this— you gonna—”
He rolled his eyes, adjusting his grip to hold her more safely against his chest. “You done?”
“I’m serious—”
“So am I.” He started walking toward the water, completely unbothered by her protests. “Now stop squirming before I drop your ass for real.”
Annie huffed but stopped fighting, her arms reluctantly wrapping around his neck. She refused to look at him, staring off toward the horizon instead.
The water was cool when it hit his ankles. He waded in deeper, feeling the sloshing of the waves against his legs, until they were far enough that the water came up to his waist when he stood. They settled between two large rocks jutting up from the ocean.
Smoke lowered Annie carefully into the water, keeping his hands on her waist until her feet found the sandy bottom. She sighed as the cold enveloped her, soothing her overheated frame.
Smoke cupped his hands and filled them with water, then brought them to her face. Gently, he washed her — his cum streaking her forehead, her cheeks, her chin.
Annie stood still and let him take care of her. When she finally opened her eyes, she found him watching her with a hellfire intensity that made her breath hitch.
“You’re disgusting, you know that?” she mumbled, teasing. “Washing your nut off in the ocean like it’s your personal bathtub.”
Smoke played along, grinning. “What, you jealous I got a chance to get a mermaid pregnant?”
“Good luck with that.” Annie rolled her eyes, smiling.
He laughed, drawing her closer. His hands nestled on her hips, thumbs drawing lazy circles on her skin underwater. “Missed this,” he said quietly. “I missed you.”
Annie’s smile faltered slightly, growing more and more vulnerable. “What about the—” He cut her mid-sentence, claiming her lips in a passionate, thirsty and hungry kiss.
Annie cupped his face, her fingers tracing the line of his jaw as she kissed him back with equal tenderness. The ocean swayed around them, rocking them gently as they stood there, nestled in each other’s embrace.
When they finally broke apart, both panted, gasping for oxygen.
Smoke rested his forehead against hers.
“So…” He cleared his throat, suddenly looking almost shy. “You think you gon’ probably unblock my number now?”
Annie blinked twice, then burst out laughing. “Keep dreaming, baby.”
Smoke is tired of sharing his wife with their kids, especially his greedy ass 9-month old son.
Inspiration: @urbnnoir's post, this TikTok, this request, this one, and this one. Also commentary from @margepimpson, @myheartsaysyes, @brownskincheyenne and @nika324
“Mama got her hair done!” Arianna shot up from her chair and gleefully skipped down the driveway.
Smoke leaned back in his fold-up chair. He was in the open garage of his home–their home–one hand holding a beer, the other on Elijah Jr, his 9-month old son who was bouncing up and down on his lap.
Annie pulled up in her Chrysler 300 with the windows down. He could hear the music all the way down the block, II Hands II Heaven by Beyoncé. She cut the engine and stepped out of the car like he’d been waiting for her his whole life.
It felt like he had.
His son squealed where he sat, already reaching out for his mama. Annie bent down to give Smoke a kiss and Junior latched right onto her hair as she picked him up.
Smoke loved his babies with every bone and breath in his body. He’d die for them. Burn the world down for them. But lately he was feeling…overlooked. Just when they got their five-year old to sleep in her own bedroom, here comes another baby to throw a wrench in their routine.
Junior was a second child to his core. Needy, fussy, and possessive over his mama like Annie wasn’t Smoke’s woman first. Every time he breast fed, he would look at him with droopy lids and a look in his eyes that said “these my titties now, nigga.” Smoke tried not to be jealous, he really did. But every time he found Annie passed out in the bed from tending to his kids, he died a little inside.
But tonight was different.
Annie walked out of her car, hair styled just right, looking at him like she was ready to pounce.
She was sending a message. She wanted him, and he was gonna take what belonged to him, for once and for all.
Soooo...what are we thinking? Yes? No? Let's collaborate.
Annie never imagined her life would look like this at 35. Her marriage has ended. Jonas, her husband filed a divorce, trading her in for someone younger. Now she is left with nothing except unpaid bills, a job she ain’t even like doing, and an apartment her ex might as soon as possible snatched away from her.
Every day is a quiet struggle, marked by loneliness and the harsh pain of words her ex left rooting in her mind about her body, her age, her worth.
When she met her friend Laurel for coffee, Annie complained about the legal mess she couldn’t afford to fight. Laurel offered a solution: her husband Elijah, a lawyer, could represent Annie in court. Annie agreed telling herself it was only business.
But as the meetings continued, Annie began to feel the changes : the way Elijah looked at her, the silence that lingered a beat too long, the way her body reacted to the forbidden attraction.
What starts as a desperate attempt to save some dollars from her failed marriage grew into something more ambiguous, more complicated, where she unfortunately chose to follow desire instead of morality.
Summary : When Elijah blew Annie’s light out, Isaac was the one who lit it again. Her man was good in bed, extremely fine, smart, a provider. Their love, or so they call it never been under hardship, until now. The twins were back in Delta, Annie gave herself a mission : avoid Smoke and make sure Stack keep his big running mouth shut about their little adventures.
Pairing : Annie x OC ; Smoke x Annie ; Annie x Stack
C.W : Cheating, Public Sex, SSC (sane safe and consensual), dirty talk, breeding kink, rough, Dom!Smoke x Sub!Annie, betrayal, bimbofication of character, choking
A/N : sorry for the grammar, typo mistakes
Part 1 𓆦 Part 2 𓆦 Part 3 𓆦 Part 4
“Party must’ve been real wild, cher.“
Isaac’s voice trailed off, sliding on sharp edges though his smile stayed stuck on his face.
“Wild ain’t the word.” Annie laughed it off thin, crouching to gather her pearls off the floor, fingers trembling against the wood. She pressed them into her palm without looking up at him. “I’m going to wash up. I won’t be long.” She announced disappearing behind a door.
The washroom was small and she left the lamp unlit.
She had loved Smoke the way you love a wound that never fully closes — not cleanly, not sensibly, but with the stubborn loyalty of a body that remembers what the mind tries to argue away.
Isaac had been good to her — genuine and faithful. She had taken his kindness, built a life on top of it and almost convinced herself that was the same thing as being healed.
Tonight however, her wound had split wide open.
It wasn’t only — the sex — what had happened in that storage room, though her body was still carrying every second of it — the soreness in her jaw, her thighs, the tender ache in her hips from the way Smoke had driven his dick into her like something long overdue.
No. It was the particular way that evil man had always known exactly what she needed before she named it.
The way he had never softened his edges for her comfort.
How he had looked at her tonight — preying — across that desk like seven years and every ugly truths between them hadn’t moved his certainty about her being his.
Annie pressed the cloth between her thighs and her breath stuttered out, shallow.
His hot sperm was still there: thick and slimy, coating her walls — clinging to the swollen flesh of her hole where she’d taken him so greedily. She padded the cloth through her twitching, ruined folds careful — cleaning the outside first, then pushed two fingers inside her creampied vagina. She squirmed, feeling the blowing blob of semen, — warm and slick against her fingertips, her tight walls tender and swollen, still pulsing faintly.
“Mhm…fuck—“ Annie spurted, her pussy queefing the cum out.
She stood in the dark washroom with her fingers inside her cooze and let the evening settle over her skin.
After fingering herself for a moment, she pulled her hand free, rinsed the cloth and continued to clean herself.
Gripping the basin’s edges, Annie felt guilty while Isaac’s cheerful voice replayed in her ears.
He had been so happy in the hallway. Talking about good men and money.
Her Isaac was a kind man, Lord !
He never asked for too much, worked hard, read a lot, went to church every Sunday, fixed what was broken — including her heart —.
And how did she repay him?
By coming home, full of another man depravity.
Isaac lay on the mattress, his back on the wall, one arm folded behind his head, eyes scanning the ceiling, listening to the water run in the washroom down the hall.
He turned everything over in his mind methodically, without rushing to a conclusion he couldn’t yet prove.
The Annie he knew never took long in bath — she was so strict about not spoiling water that she used to fill a certain amount of basins to use, before going in.
However, tonight she’d been in there long enough for the tank to cool.
He thought about her smell when he’d held her close in the hallway. Annie drank corn liquor and sweet wine — he knew her palate the way he knew the sound of her heels on the porch boards. What had come off her skin earlier was neither.
It was bourbon, the expensive kind.
And her hair? A joke.
His Annie was clean and coquette, she wouldn’t come home from a social gathering with a single pin out of place. Yet she’d walked through this door with her knots untangled, coils wet of sweat.
He hadn’t said anything.
This woman hadn’t met his eyes once since she arrived.
Isaac wasn’t a fool. He had never been a stupid monk. He was just loving her enough to hope he was getting the wrong assumption.
He heard the splash of the water a last second before Annie opened the door, walking back in the bedroom.
The mattress shifted under her weight as she settled, and Isaac’s hands drifted to her without thinking, palming her ass, his nose nuzzling into the warm crook of her neck. “Come here baby... I missed you.”
She fluttered under his touch — a hesitation so brief another man might have missed it. No him though — before her hand brushed over his, stopping him gentle. “Isaac…baby I’m dead on my feet. I promise I’ll make it up to you.”
He tucked his hands back instantly, his lips grazing her nape once. “You good mama. Get some rest.”
Annie’s breathing stretched and slowed. Isaac lay behind her, his thumb tracing absent circles on the sheet between them, the scrubbed soap she’d washed herself with, sitting wrong in his nose.
Two years sharing a bed with this woman and she had never once turned him away. Not when she was tired, not when she was sick, not even the night she’d buried her favorite hen and cried through half of supper. Annie met him every time, always — it was one of the truths he’d built himself around without realizing it.
He thought about those times before he’d left for work — Annie milk-warm and urgent against him, her hands pulling him close before he’d even reached for her, the generous swells of her body that had never once made him feel like a burden or an afterthought. His Annie had always come to him like she meant it, like she’d been craving, like there was nowhere else she wanted to be.
Yet tonight, after not seeing him for a whole day, she was tired.
Isaac stared at his hands in the dark, one palm turned up on the sheet beside her, the calluses strong across the base of his fingers from the hammer and the saw, every fence post he’d driven into Delta dirt since he was fourteen years old.
Good hands. Working hands. Hands that had fixed her house, built her a chicken coop and touched her like she was something worth being careful with.
He wondered, lying there, if that was all she saw when she looked at him. Someone useful. Someone steady. A man who showed up and stayed and never asked for more than she offered.
Annie had been married before him. She’d said it once, flat and brief, the first month they were together — married young, didn’t work, the ma abandoned her. He’d nodded and left it there, told himself he was being respectful, giving her room, not preying in her privacy. Two years on he understood he’d just been afraid to pull at that thread and see how much of her unraveled with it.
He knew nothing about that man. Not his name, not his face, not what had passed between them or why it ended or whether it had truly ended at all.
Yes, he knew nothing about her at all.
Isaac stood up and headed outside.
He would sleep, eyes on the stars tonight.
The following days were the same. During the first night she mumbled something about her feet aching from standing all day at the market.
The second, she was asleep before he’d finished washing up — leaving him to take care of his own arousal.
The third one, he clearly saw through her fake moans and stopped midway — pretending to not feel it anymore.
Sunday arrived and the sun was beating down harshly. Annie had spoken to him but Isaac hadn’t really listened. He wanted to plunge deep into work, so he told her to rest.
“Papa I can do it. Lemme just…”
“You seemed very tired lately…just rest here. Sun is mean today.”
Annie hiccuped, uneasy,studying his face. Her Isaac was different.
Less jovial.
More busy.
He didn’t insist when she refused herself to him.
She felt bad about it.
Of course.
However, returning home each night with Smoke’s seed hot inside her, fed her gut enough, leaving her full from anything — or anyone — else.
Isaac took the long way, cutting behind Madame Lillie’s property, following the fence line south where the ground was harder and the shade from the pecan trees lasted longer. He’d been walking since before the dew burned off the grass, the road still cool underfoot when he left the porch but warming fast beneath his boots by the time the yard disappeared behind him.
The bayou ran sluggish and brown on his left, catching the sun in flat copper patches between the cypress knees, a heron standing motionless in the shallows watching him pass.
His mind kept wandering where it shouldn’t. He was evaluating his worth, what he done bad or good, why the situation with that woman turned this sour.
He arrived at the field and immediately started working. For minutes he didn’t pay attention to his surroundings until he heard a shuffle some rows away.
A woman — rows away — was crooked down between the stalks, her back to him.
Isaac barely registered her at first. He kept his head down, his fingers moving through the bolls, sweat running a line from his temple to his jaw.
He looked up again, a few paces closer.
She was bent at the waist, moving up the bolls and her bodacious ass spread apart, swaying languidly. Each time she straightened, her booty bounced back together, heavy and loose.
Her thick thighs were gaped with her position, the cotton riding up the backs of them, heat pressing down on her honey complexion, making the air between their rows shimmer.
Isaac’s feet slowed in the dirt.
He stared a second longer than necessary, his mouth going dry, sweat beading across his forehead, his cock throbbing hard and thick against his thigh.
The woman shifted her weight and turned her head to spit a seed out and he saw her face.
Isaac’s jaw clenched.
He drove his eyes back to the row in front of him. He knew who she was — Annie’s friend : Marylise.
The creole woman who’d knocked on their door more times than he could count, who sat at their supper table, laughed too loud and borrowed his woman’s favorite comb.
Annie’s friend. Annie’s friend.
He kept turning the fact over like it would eventually mean something his body would listen to.
Unfortunately, his penis sat fat and jouncing against his waistband, indifferent to any troubles.
He dropped his hand to his crotch and palmed himself through his trousers, pressing down firm, trying to push the blood back out of it but his length shoved back against his palm, hard and uncooperative.
Three nights of Annie’s back turned to him had his balls full and aching between his thighs.
Isaac shifted, grabbed his dick, trying to forcefully tuck it sideways.
No use. He was already huge. His bulging cock jerked back upright against the zipper, hard enough to make him hiss through his teeth, the metal biting into his pre-cum’s swollen head through the fabric.
He flicked his eyes down the muddy ground between the rows and stared at it, breathing calmly through his nose — desperate to cool the heat in his groin.
Marylise had clocked his boots going still in the dirt before she’d even turned her head. She’d kept her eyes in the bushes ahead, fingers working the roots and plants steadily. letting him look his fill.
Her pussy had been soapy slick since she’d spotted him coming down the fence line : Isaac was a big man — tall, broad through the chest, monstrous between his legs…and Annie? She had been a fool about him in ways Marylise had never quite understood.
Tuh.
She wasn’t gullible. Of course Marylise had peeped what happened three nights ago at the juke : Annie slipping through the crowd and taking the stairs behind a man who was definitely not Isaac.
Her friend was lucky as sin but apparently too blind to realize it.
“One’s misfortune is another’s happiness, right?” She murmured for herself, eyeing him through the gap between her parted legs.
Poor man. He was fighting it.
He had both his palms over his massive bulge, stroking his enlarged cock — gaze averted, darting sideways, afraid of being caught.
She peeped at his waistband when he spilled his throbbing dick free, his length jamming , jerking in the cotton field’s air as his pre-cum leaked onto the muddy ground.
She bent deeper, dress bushing up to her high thighs — giving him a tantalizing raw look of her swollen pussy — the sun had been hell earlier this morning when she’d left her house, so she hadn’t bothered about wearing panties —.
Marylise kept staring at his debauchery a moment before holding the dress up her waist with one hand. She reached her free other hand between her thick thighs and spread her pussy open with two fingers — the fat slick walls of her cunt gaping wide and dripping, the pale purple flushing dark at her entrance, cream bubbling at the edges — then looked back over her shoulder and winked.
Isaac’s hand closed around his cock and squeezed, a meaty bead of pre-cum squeezing out the tip and hanging off, catching the sunlight before dropping fat into the dirt. He spit into his palm and pumped himself in long greedy strokes, his knuckles creaming, more sperm smearing up his shaft with every pull, his engorged balls swinging and knocking the back of his hand.
His hips snapped shallow into his grip while he kept his eyes on her and breathed hard through his nose. With effort, he gripped a nearest stalk, steadying himself, knuckles whitening around it each time boots shuffled somewhere further up the field.
“Fuck— mmhm that pussy mad wet…” he grunted.
His dick pulsed so hard the vein along the top of his shaft throbbed visible, he palmed himself faster, wrist twisting on the upstroke, the wet slapping sound of his solo-play carrying between the rows while sweat rolled off his jaw and his thighs burned holding himself upright.
Cautious, his eyes flicked sideways once, twice, catching the bent backs of the other field workers moving distant through the heat, none of them looking his way, before swinging straight back to Marylise’s glistening lips.
Just when he was persuaded to be alone, a woman cut his row diagonal, arms loaded with bags, head down — she stopped dead when her eyes landed on his cock swinging fat and greasy in his fist, cum roping off the head.
Isaac slapped his hand flat and harsh over his dick.
The woman looked up at his face then back down at the wet shine between his fingers. Her tongue pushed into her cheek and she shook her head before moving on back between the stalks.
“Shit—” He exhaled, cock still kicking hard against his palm.
He dragged his forearm across his jaw, sweat smearing hot into his beard and wiped his hand on the back of his pants — leaving his cock hang huge and hard in front of him.
Each inhale made his length twitch, the tip splashing his sperm on the muddy leaves.
As he stood there dripping into the ground, he heard a squelch noise and craned his head back toward Marylise.
She had dropped on all fours, spread her knees wide in the dirt and drove three fingers into her pussy from behind — back arched deep, her walls clamping down around them, ass bouncing hard with every pump of her wrist while her cunt spitting white cream frothing thick around her knuckles and stringing down to the dirt in slow drops.
She was toying her pussy nasty, her thighs trembling, her fat lips flapping with each thrust — then yanked her fingers free and pushed them past her own lips, hollowing her cheeks, tongue curling underneath, swirling slow between each one — her eyes cutting sideways to find his face while she cleaned every drop.
She pulled them out her mouth with a soft pop, bounced her ass once — both cheeks loose and big, flesh rippling, her pulsing juicy hole winking at him — and purred over her shoulder : “Come on now sugar, quit actin’ like you ain’t hungry.”
Isaac gritted his teeth — jaw loose, as his gaze dazed on the foaming mess between her thighs. His hands dragged along the stalks as his boot crunched through the dirt toward her — his cock leading the way, soggy and enormous, swinging with every step.
He cautiously strode up and dropped to his knees behind her in the dirt, his enormous cock slapping wet against her ass — both fat cheeks swallowing the length between them, her slick heat kissing the underside of his shaft, coating him immediately.
Two rows over, an older man straightened from his pods and froze, eyes cutting sideways through the stalks before his hand drifted nervously to his waistband.
Marylise sucked air through her teeth, her spine dipping further, pushing back into him. “Mmh— Lord.” She ground her drenched pussy lips along his dick from root to tip, her cream smearing a long sheen stripe across his skin. “Mmh—” She pressed her cheek to the dirt, her round ass staying high and split, both peaches bubbling with the motion. “You feel so damn good pa’ and you ain’t even in me yet.”
Isaac spanked her ass, spreading her flesh open — her cunt gaping mauve-ish and foaming between his thumbs, her hole fluttering at the open air.
He freed one hand and reached under her belly, two fingers pressing flat and firm against her swollen big clit — Marylise’s spine snapped into a sharp arch, a wail tearing out of her throat before she caught it behind her teeth.
He nudged his head through her folds and drove in, her walls shutting down around him so tight his vision blurred at the edges.
“Gnn—” His forehead dropped between her shoulder blades and he buried to the hilt in her slippery cunt, her pussy queefing loud around his girth as her body struggled to take his size.
“Dat hussy really thought she could handle a man like you.” Marylise purred into the dirt, her walls squeezing him rhythmically. “Mmh— is your gal pussy dat fat pa’?”
He drove back — slow, dragging every inch out through her clenching walls — until just the head remained inside, her rim gripping tight around it like she was trying to pull him back. Then he jammed forward again, his pelvis smacking her ass, her cheeks rippling outward from the impact before bouncing back together.
Marylise’s fingers clawed at the clay, nails filling with dark mud. “Mmh— big papa —” Her cunt swallowed him on every push, walls slick and greedy, her arousal frothing white at her stretched entrance and coating his shaft in a thick creamy layer that smeared down both their thighs with every stroke. “How a real woman feel baby?” she gasped, her elbows buckling in the dirt, face down, ass up. “Mhm— right there—”
He pounded into her, his pelvis cracking against her ass on every strike, each thrust pushing her body forward in the dirt before she rocked herself back to meet the next one, her ass clapping against his mound, the obscene squelch sound of her cunt taking him carrying through the stalks around them.
“Is she make all dat noise for you?” Marylise panted — totally undone — her whole body quaking with his pace, her perky tits swinging beneath her dress, nipples chafing across the inside of the fabric.
Isaac groaned, penetrating her more roughly — snapping his hips forward hard.
Marylise’s face pressed further into the mud, breaking apart, eyes whitened — before settling back into the long grinding strokes, his balls swinging forward and slapping against her clit on every push.
“Jus…just like that gnn” she rolled her ass smacking her cheeks, eyes crossed.
The older man three rows over had stopped working entirely now, his body turned sideways between the stalks, one hand moving inside his pants, his chin tipped in their direction.
Isaac’s rhythm built — longer strokes giving way to harder, shorter ones, his thighs burning, his grip on her hips tightening until his fingers left deep blueish marks in her flesh.
“Fuck— you so tight… so hot—” he growled, saliva trickling down her back.
She stretched her arms, gaping her ass, holding her voluptuous flesh a moment then clapped them on his cock — sperm painting her cheeks. “You ain’t drooling for her pum-pum like dis huh—”
“Shit…shit shit— such a good bitch—” he groaned husky, slamming her hips against his pelvis, shoving his huge throbbing dick further her G-spot, “fuck I came a lot—gnn”
“Mm— my wet pussy is so hungry for your cum big papa…” Marylise mewled shutting her ass around his cock, “I love to feel you warm inside me…” she chuckled lips parted.
Isaac buried himself inside her, emptying his heavy loaded balls, his seed bursting hot, flooding, creaming her walls in tsunami waves — he baked and filled her, overwhelming, his sperm foaming and gushing out her vagina.
“That’s it, keep cumming in my tight pussy papa” she squirmed, moaning, the bunched fabric of her dress stained and ruined, “I’m all yours to play with Isaac—”
Gloom passed over his face as he withdrew brutally from her pussy, leaving her hole extremely gaped, creampied and drooling.
He came hard inside her but his dick remained strongly erected — soggy, lurching back and forth, veins pulsing and bulging strong along his shaft.
“Since when you whoring thinking bout me huh, Marylee?” He spread her sweaty fat ass, spanking each cheek with his massive cock.
“From the first night I visited you both at the house and Annie offered me those jerk chicken sandwiches papa… you came in that trouser,bagging this big cock….” Her vagina inhaled the field dry air and queef loudly. “Those jerk chicken were not the only meat I wanted in my mouth back then….fuck” she whined, arching deeper to expose her taut bootyhole — the deep brown circle contrasting with her light skin.
“Mmm— your pot still beating but you want my dick in your pretty ass huh” he spat on the stretchy brown ring of her anus, nudging the tip of his monstrous length on the skin.
Marylise’s fingers spread her cheeks wider apart, holding herself open, her bootyhole twitching under the wet heat of his spit, the tight ring clenching and releasing against his nudging tip.
“Slow pa’—” she breathed, her voice dropping low and wrecked. “Take your time wit it.”
Isaac pressed forward — the broad head pushing against her entrance, the skin stretching, resisting — before the tight ring gave and gulped him past the tip, her ass tautening immediately around his length, scorching and vicious.
“Mmh— you splitting me open—” she gasped, pushing herself back onto him. “Keep going— don’t stop—”
He sank the rest of the way in, her walls gripping every inch merciless and burning. He pulled out — her rim stretched outward with the drag — then drove back in, settling into a deep unhurried rhythm, his pelvis meeting her cheeks, her leftover cream trickling from her pot down his knee.
“Nobody ever fill me up like dis—” Marylise keened, her voice threadbare. “Mmh— where Annie find you— Lord have mercy—”
He drove deeper, his rhythm faltering — hips stuttering forward in short brutal snaps, his grip locking iron-tight on her flesh — before he sank himself to the root, climaxing, his cock pulsing hard inside her, flooding her walls in thick scalding waves, spilling out around his shaft and running slow down the inside of her thighs onto the mud.
“Gnnn—“ he grunted, sweating.
This afternoon was dirty and hot when Annie left her house — the air thick and damp, gnats circling lazy above the ditch water running brown along the road edge.
She walked through the Spanish moss with her belt cinched and her bottles clinking against her hip, a jar wrapped in a red cloth tucked under her arm, her dress loose from the waist down, hugging her curves.
She passed by the courthouse sitting pale and self-important at the center of the road, then the sheriff office — guarded by two white men visibly too occupied lurking on the swell of her breast too realized she’d stepped to close of their lane.
Good grief.
Annie saw the chapel from afar, the demure building had a new coat of paint on the gate, still tacky in the heat. She unlatched it with two fingers and knocked at the side door.
The woman who answered took a full second before stepping aside. She didn’t offer water neither a seat. She stretched her hands long enough to take the domination jar, held it at a cautious distance from her body like she was carrying hell, and listened to Annie’s instructions with her eyes fixed somewhere above the rootworker’s left ear.
“Light a red candle bound to a black one, add honey and pour the powder over them. The ashes you put in a bag and let it under your pillow for six nights.”
“And— it will work?”
“You dealing with a deacon, the success depends on your energy. This one charged with mine.”
“Lord bless you my daughter.”
Annie hummed, counting the field coins in her palm. After what she left the chapel, padding through the magnolia trees.
The frog began their too loud audible hymns when she heard voices coming her way — her hips swaying left and right, locked for seconds.
Laughter , then an annoying high-pitched sound. “Papa you hear me? I want them shoes. Margaret got a whole crate from Nola, real leather, red sole and everything.”
Wonda’s bodacious body crowded Smoke — her tits wobbling loose in her cotton dress as she tugged his sleeve.
“Hmm.” He answered, settling his hand on her voluptuous ass, pulling her flush into his side, his lips grazing the curve of her jaw.
Wonda hummed, pleased, pressing her lips to his. “So you gon get them?”
Smoke straightened slightly, bringing his cigarette to his mouth. “We’ll see.”
The southern belle pouted playfully the next following minutes while they kept walking — then suddenly she squinted, grimacing.
“You smell that?” She asked, tipping her nose up, her hand resting easy on Smoke’s chest. “Burnt roots, must be that ro—”
Smoke’s heart ran miles, spiking in his ribcage. He nearly dropped his cigarette as his eyes moved up the road : here Annie was — striding in their direction with her belt cinched and her herbs sealed in jars, bottles swinging at her hip.
Smoke burned holes on her face, from her afro pinned up with scarf, traveling between her moisturized, generous chest — with her breast rubbing each other lusciously under Delta’s raging heat.
Instinctively he tightened his grip around Wonda’s hips, his tongue fluttering on her ear lobe while his gaze stayed undisturbed on Annie.
“Come on now Smokey, you play too much !” The southern belle giggle, not realizing that his attention had shifted — once again.
“Dirty dog” Annie hissed through her nose without turning her head, her heels coming down hard enough on the packed dirt to raise a thin curl of dust with each step, carrying her past them and around the bend without a single glance back.
She got back home still carrying the heat of the road and walked straight into the smell of frying fish and Isaac’s soap. He was at the stove in home clothes, his back broad in a clean shirt, bare feet easy on the wood, whistling an old gospel tune.
She stood in the middle of the room watching him move the pan, the beans bubbling low on the back burner, a dish towel slung over his shoulder. “Oh Oh Isaac what you so happy about?”
He turned around, grinning like the question genuinely tickled him. “Just grateful and praising the Lord Sugar, that’s all.” He lifted the pan, tilting it easy. “You hungry? Got plenty.”
“Mmh mhm” Annie set her belt on a chair, the bottles clinking as she unbuckled it. “Boy you sound like Miss Lilly yapping about Sunday service.” She unpinned her hair and padded down the hall to the washroom. “Let me shower first.”
“Go ahead baby.”
The room was dark, Isaac had blew off the candle after showering. She lit it back, let her dress fall down her ankles, put the basin down and crouched to its level — her thighs parted.
She first wash her cooze with the cloth, then her armpits, continuing with the sweat between her large breasts — peeling off that Jezebel scent off her skin.
“Dem shoes from Nola papa” Annie mimicked Wonda, clacking her tongue loudly.
Her mind kept returning to the particular ease of Smoke’s hand on that woman’s body, the way he’d bent toward her ear on purpose.
Evidently he had none important thing to say.
She sucked her teeth, wringing the washcloth with more force than necessary.
The kitchen smelled of bay leaf and hot cornbread when Annie came back.
She pulled out a stool and dropped onto it, her towel tight around her chest and loose at her thighs.
“I wash myself clean now mama, you can feed me.”
Isaac laughed brightly, his shoulders shaking, and spooned the beans over the fish on two tin plates — the steam rising thick and delicious, the onion and salt cutting warm through the kitchen air.
He set the meal down in front of her and dropped the dish towel over the back of his stool before sitting, his big hands wrapping easy around his own plate.
“Reverend Thomas want men for his Church house’s roof next Saturday.” Isaac ate his beans. “Told him I’d think on it. Poor guy, he still on that rivalry with Jed. Ain’t the same purpose the Lord’s praise?”
“You should go.” Annie answer. “Roof been leaking since last Christmas and all those neighbors church folks coming to the chapel now, I even got customer from here today…”
“Mhm.” He reached for a cup of water. “Ya friend Marylise, she been going to that house long?”
Annie looked up. “She preferred it to our rigid chapel she been said. Why?”
He shrugged easy. “Just wondering if she the praying type.” He smirked, “ain’t seem like one.”
The screen door breathed in and out with the small evening breeze coming off the bayou.
“We talking bout Marylise, Isaac. Her feet rather find a way to club than church.”
Isaac squinted, a glint of amusement dancing in his eyes.
“You want more cornbread?” He exclaimed, already half standing.
“Isaac sit down and eat your damn food.” Annie pointed her fork at him. “You worse than a mother hen, I swear.” She laughed.
Crickets outside began their recital, announcing the night that will soon draped Delta.
Isaac washed the dishes,cleaning each piece of glasses before drying them with a brown cloth.
Tonight held her man different. Annie sensed the shift.
She tracked his steps and positioned herself behind him, losing her towel at her feet — her luscious tits rubbing sensually against his back, nipples stiff and swollen, chafing the fabric of his shirt.
Who cares about that son of…? Annie got herself a real man at home.
One who wouldn’t lose his dignity between some heffa’s thighs.
Isaac was not Smoke. He was a real man who loved her and knew how to treat her heart.
“Da sun slapped us real bad today mhmm…” She grope his waist, fingers sliding under her waistband.
Isaac froze then shifted awkwardly, seizing her hand out of his drawer.
“Come on mama, I’m bit tired. Papa picked ‘em cotton from noon to late evening. Let’s do it tomorrow…right?”
Oh?
Her fingers slipped out from his waistband. She bent, scooped her towel up off the floor and wrapped it around herself. “Hm.”
Isaac turned around, drying his hands on another worn cloth, his face open and easy.
“Don’t be mad mama, you know I love you.”
“Yeah…yeah…I know. Rest up darling. It’s all good, Grace told me to come by the Juke tonight. She want me to help her with sum…”
Lies. Lies. Lies.
That motherfucker had been on her mind all the evening and now that Isaac refused to take care of her bruised pride, she decided to ruin Smoke’s night.
A word. That man will regret moving that sly.
“Alright honey. You have fun, okay? Don’t drink too much, I know you fancy whiskey now…” he emphasized, shooting a wave of shame down her spine.
Annie swallowed.
She wore a plain dress and discreetly put another one — bolder — in her bag.
Isaac heard it rustling behind him, yet he didn’t react, setting the last pot on the shelf, unhurried, the worn cloth folded neat over the basin edge. His mind was clouded with Marylise sweet moans.
I won’t close my windows tonight
She had said.
He was wondering if he should pay her a night visit when the entry door slammed.
“Oh— yea—yeah see ya ba—“
Anyways Annie already had disappeared, past their porch.
Isaac was annoying.
Smoke, a dick.
Days she ain’t have news of Stack.
And Marylise? What about her, actually? Why the hell, that man mentioned her?
Annie second guessed about going to her friend’s house and finally turned left at the crossroad to the sawmill.
The 10 o’clock club vibrated with Delta Slim piano, one singer dancing on stage — sharing the vibe with the massive crowd.
Body sweats, heat rising, alcohol overwhelming the air : all she needed.
She scanned the room, her eyes settling behind the counter, few feet from the entry : Grace was not the one behind it, tonight. It was that two-cent strumpet — Wonda.
Her hair was braided somehow elegantly, a waist trainer shaping her curvaceous body, molded in a black laced and cotton dress. From head to toes she smelled spoiled.
Annie hated that. It should have been her.
It was always her, and it should’ve never changed.
“I guess Missy doxy got her Nola shoes after all…” she grumbled, stepping up.
Annie paved a way between the swarm of people, her eyes still searching for the toilet.
After finding it, she precipitated inside — the latch catching on the second try.
It was a decent little stall : clean basin, fresh water, two crates tucked in the corner, candles burning even on a shelf above a mirror. The music from the floor came up dull and steady through the wood planks under her feet.
She dropped her bag on one of the crate, unzipped it and shuffled her things out. She shook the red velvet loose and stepped in, the fabric pulling over her hips, the slit opening up high on her left thigh as the hem fell down to her ankle, pooling against the floor.
Through the mirror, Annie watched her voluptuous, buttered up tits spilling dangerously above the dress’ low neckline, then fastened quickly her wooden earrings one at a time, snapped the pearl bracelet over her wrist, the beads settling cool against her skin.
Her reflection held her captive for a moment, the candlelight licking over her deep brown skin, catching the swell of her hips, the generous curve of her belly, the pudgy rolls that banded her waist. She turned around and stared at her ass, her fat cheeks wiggling in slow motion.
"Ain't no dog going untamed tonight." she murmured to herself,smirking.
Then languidly, she hooked her thumbs under her dress and slid off the plain cotton panties. She peeled them down her thick thighs, over the swell of her hips, past the dense thatch of curls at her mound.
The air in the stall kissed her bare pussy, tickling her clit. She clicked her tongue and rummaged the inside of her bag, picking up a small jar of sweetgrass oil, smearing some on her fingertips before slicking it along her inner thighs and her flushed purple swollen lips.
She circled her entrance, coating the puffy skin, then slid two fingers inside, working the oil into her own tight, clutching walls. Her pheromones overwhelmed the cramped space, that's when she realized her magick unfolding.
The music slammed on her face the moment she stepped out the toilet. She cut through the crowd, stomping toward the bar. Wonda leaned against the back counter, a smug tilt to her chin as she poured whiskey for a old man, her new Nola shoes tapping a rhythm on the floorboards.
Annie slid onto a stool, the velvet bunching high on her thigh. “Corn liquor. Make it double.”
Wonda’s eyes flicked in her direction. “Traditional.” She played coy, pulled a bottle, poured the liquid into a glass without measuring, and slid it over. “That’ll be two dollars.”
Annie took a long swallow, her throat scorching to the brun. She set the glass down empty. “Put it on Big Daddy’s tab.”
A crease appeared between Wonda’s perfect brows.“Big Daddy? Honey, I ain’t know no Big Daddy. You pay wit cash, or we gon have real problem.”
“Is that right?” Annie looked at her up and down. “Tell him his wife said hello when he comes down." She stood up and the stool scraped back. “He’ll know what it means.”
She turned her back on Wonda’s confusion, a hot spike of satisfaction curling in her gut.
The dance floor was a sea of moving bodies, damp with sweat and heat. A feverish blue song kicked up, fiddle slicing through the piano. Annie let the rhythm take her, her hips finding the beat before her feet did. The velvet slit parted with each step, showing a long flash of her oiled brown thigh.
A man appeared beside her : tall, broad-shouldered, with a farmer’s tan and an easy grin. “Lord have mercy,” he shouted over the music, his eyes drinking her in from head to toe. “Ain’t seen you ‘round before.”
“Ain’t been ‘round much,” Annie shouted back without moving away.
He took that as an invitation, his hands settling on her waist. “Name’s Abraham.”
She didn’t give hers, only let her curvy frame lush into him, her fat ass rocking back against the front of his trousers. He was already hard, a thick ridge pressing into the swell of her cheeks. Annie ground against his bulge leisurely.
"Damn, gal,” he groaned into her hair, his fingers digging into the velvet fabric at her hips.
Annie threw her head back, her coiled hair brushing his shoulder. She reached behind her, found his wrist, and guided his hand up from her waist to cup her heavy tit spilling over the neckline. His thumb rubbed over her stiff nipple through the fabric, shudders running through her hot skin— her pussy gooey, the swollen lips chafing together with each sway.
“You feel that?” The farmer panted — grazing his erection against her — his other hand sliding down to palm her ass, squeezing the plush flesh. “You got a man at home who treats this right?”
“None o' ya business, huh” she purred, arching into his touch, pushing her cheeks back against his cock.
Annie danced care-free : she grooved, facing him, and looped her arms around his neck. Her plush tits pressed against his chest. She rocked her hips forward, grinding against his hardness, feeling him jump through the layers of fabric.
From the shadowed railing upstairs, Smoke watched the scene with particular annoyance. He’d seen her the moment she left the toilet, a flash of red in the smoky dim. He saw her at the bar, laughed at Wonda’s pinched face. Now he was trying to not pile corpses as she rub herself all over some random field hand.
His cigarette burned forgotten between his fingers. His jaw clenched, eyes dilated and unblinking.
Down below, Annie was lost in the performance. Abraham’s mouth was on her neck, sucking marks into her skin. One of his hands had slipped between their bodies, his fingers fumbling at the velvet over her mound. “Lemme feel that pussy,” he begged, his voice ragged. “Just one finger pretty mama.”
The song crashed to an end and the crowd cheered, breathing hard. Annie pushed off the farmer’s chest, her dress falling back into place. She was panting, her breasts heaving, a sheen of sweat making her mahogany skin glow under the lantern light.
She gave Abraham a dizzy, empty smile. “That was fun, baby.”
She didn’t wait for his reply.
She weaved through the dispersing dancers, her wooden heels clicking on the planks, and collapsed into a vacant corner booth.
The leather was cool against her back. She spread her legs under the table, letting the air hit her soaked cooze. hmmm, you like what you see. Come on, let mama give you a treat, big dog.
He didn’t make her wait long.
Smoke stormed down the stairs. People parted for him without looking, sensing the heat in his aura. He crossed the floor, his grey suit stark against the warm bodies, and slid into the booth.
Annie sneered,tilting her chin up. “Come to buy me a drink, Big Daddy? Your gal up there got a real attitude problem.”
“What the fuck was that?” He grumbled, gravelly.
“Dancing Papa. Ya know da thing you usually do at a juke” She leaned forward, her cleavage deepening. “Da boy got nice hands. Strong. You should’ve seen what he wanted to do with them.”
Smoke’s hand shot across the table, his fingers wrapping firmly around her wrist. “You parading your big cheeks for every field niggas in this room to try and get under my skin?”
“Gnn- is it working?” She tried to pull her wrist free, but his grip was iron. Her pulse hammered against his thumb.
“You think I give a goddamn fuck who you let paw your ass?” He leaned in close, the scents of bourbon and his cold anger washing over her. “You think whatever that cotton motherfucker packing made you forget how mine split you open on that desk?”
Heat flooded Annie’s face, but a different, warmer fever pooled between her legs. Her wet clit twitched, lips fluttered, drooling while her vagina pumped in, empty and aching. “He wasn’t packing much of anything,”
“That why you rubbing yourself all over his crotch? You that desperate for attention, Annabelle? Your man at home ain’t give you none?”
He knew about Isaac?
Smoke words were meant to cut, and they did, however the slash came with a hot rush between her legs.
“Don’t you dare speak bout my man.” she hissed, trying to yank her hand back. “He not a coward abandoning his woman over insignificant mistakes. Isaac gives me everything”
“Everything except what you really want.” He released her wrist so abruptly she staged back. Then, his hand shot out again, yanking her off the armchair by her hair “Which is a man who ain’t afraid to put your goddamn sassy ass in place. Playing house with churchman ain’t fit you Annabelle.” He bunched her dress up, it slit tearing wider.
Bare foot on the ground, his fist in her hair, Annie whined and parted her legs to ground herself. She spat on his face, cursing loud : “Go to hell.”
Smoke worked his jaw and pushed her on a larger couch. He leaned over her and spread her trembling moistened thighs then brushed his fingers through the coarse curls of her mound. Annie gasped, her hips jerking forward of their own accord, seeking the pressure.
His fingers slid further, through her soaked folds, not entering, just smearing her own juices up to her swollen button. He circled her stiff, fat nub once, twice : “You came in here dressed like a two-dollar whore, shaking your ass for the whole room, just to get me to look at you.” He pinched her soggy clit, “you got my attention Annabelle. Now what you gonna do with it?”
He pulled his fingers free, wiped them on her inner thigh and watched her hips chase the ghost of their absence.
“Say it.”
“Wha—what are you talking about?.” Annie pressed her thighs together. Slim’s piano and Sammy’s guitar played some old melodies wrapping the booth like a curtain.
Smoke pushed her knees further apart with one hand, his eyes dropping to the slick mess she’d made on the seat. “You know what.”
He freed his cock from his trousers and pressed it against her entrance without breaching, just holding the pressure there, calmly and merciless.
“ Elijah—”
With his free hand, he gripped her jaw, tilting her face up. “Say it or I walk out that door and you go home to your sorry choir boy with your pussy crying and nobody to answer it.”
“You triflin’ ass—“ Annie’s walls tried to pull him in on their own, her hips rocking forward.
“Isaac.” Smoke drawled like he was reading something off a ledger. His eyes fixed on her face.
“Don’t you dare—”
“Is he who you thought about when that nigga had his hands on you?” He nudged forward a fraction second, just enough for her entrance to stretch around the tip and clench desperately. “Maybe Stack…or perhaps—.”
“Don’t—”
“So, say it, Annabelle.”
Her pussy gushed against his tickling pressure, her whole body shuddering. “I want you.”
“Oh? Really?” He sneered coy, playing fool. “How much you want me Annie?”
“I want you to fuck me…” she gritted her teeth, mumbling — her lower lip bit and swollen. “Nobody else but you…”
“Oh— but what about good hands Isaac?”
Annie eyes closed her eyes, overwhelmed by guilt.
“Open your fucking eyes Annabelle.” He pressed forward and her entrance gave, swallowing his head with a squelched obscene noise, her walls seizing immediately around the intrusion. “And tell me what Isaac is.”
Annie looked at him, her eyes glassy and wrecked, lips parted. “He just a man I live with…he can’t do what you do.” She hushed barely above a whisper, her hips pitching forward trying to take more. “Nobody can Elijah…Isaac is a do-nothin’…”
Smoke drove into her in one long rough push, burying himself to the roof, the booth creaking under their forceful union, her muffled cry swallowed by the music.
“Papa loves the song of this baby, keep singing.” He gripped her hips and pulled back slowly, dragging every inch through her clenching walls.
“I belong to you.” She gasped it, her nails raking into the leather on either side. “I always did.”
“Louder than that.” He pounded again, deep and grinding, his pelvis crushing against her swollen clit.
“I belong to you, Smoke.” Her voice cracked on it, loudly.
His hand seized her throat just firmly enough to angle her face toward the room : swaying couples, a young man near the pillar who had stopped moving with his glass suspended halfway, a woman at the counter with her back turned in the specific way that meant she’d seen everything and chosen to be quiet about it.
“All these people.” Smoke rasped against her ear. “And you sitting here creaming on my dick like you ain’t got none at home.”
Annie’s nails dragged across the leather, her full tits spilling above the neckline with each thrust, the torn slit of her dress hanging open, her bare sweaty thighs bracketing his hips.
She whimpered, her walls fluttering around him, her ruined pussy squirting uncontrollably.
“He gon be awake when you get home, sitting up in that bed you made for him.” He thrust harder, his grip on her hip bruising. “smelling me on you when you get home. And you gon let him. Because that’s all he is, Annabelle. A warm bed you climbed into while you waited on me.”
Annie’s back arched off the couch, her cries breaking half open before she caught it behind her teeth, thighs locking around his hips while she hit her orgasm, bathing the velvet leather and everything beneath her.
Smoke kept moving through every second of it, his jaw tight, his eyes on her face, watching her come apart in a public booth with the Delta Slim piano covering every sound she made.
Annie refused her mind to think about how she ended up in a spacious bedroom of a farmer house with her ex-husband hands tight around her waist. Of course she willingly came there, bewitched by his embrace.
Elijah knew how to claim her.
This room was more intimate than the storage of his juke. She thought about cooking something before running away again. Nevertheless which kind of meal a four morning moon would allow?
The street outside sat quiet under a sky still blackened with gloom, the courthouse bell tower just visible through the window, the main road emptied this hour except for a dog sleeping side to bin trash.
Smoke’s lingering touch around her waist sweetened her mind. He had trapped her in his strong arms, whispering sugar in her ears.
Now he was lying on this large bed, his arm swimming ghostly to the warm spot where she had been hours ago.
Annie padded across the room, picked her her plain dress from her bag and slid into it — the bold velvet one abandoned at the bed’s feet with its slit torn wider than she had came with.
“Gnn…bring your pretty self back here woman.” Smoke groaned, sleep still heavy in his eyes.
She cocked a small grin, her doe eyes playful. “Sometimes little times are good remedies.”
The dog rose on four paws, barking when Annie passed by his side. She ignored him and kept running to her house. The sheriff’s office had somehow earned some grandeur in one night, she heard the cracker’s cock sang awfully five o’clock and kept dragging her feet as fast as possible to home.
Annie inhaled grateful when she arrived at her porch, the hen’s cheering, welcoming her.
The lights were still off, she assumed Isaac was still asleep until the cracking noise of their mattress assaulted her ear faintly.
Heart knotted in her stomach, she advanced cautiously on tiptoe — at first afraid of confronting him, totally awake. Unaware that the truth might be shockingly worse than that.
She breathed, half her face in the slit of the door, her eyes widening and fingers forcefully clenching on the handle.
Isaac was there.
His arms pressed around Marylise’s waist — her hair fanned on Annie’s pillow, luscious body molded in one of her favorite nightgown.
The one Elijah offered her for their first newlywed’s night.
Taglist : As you see I reduced the taglist to those who ask to be notified of this story — Again if you want to be removed just tell me 🩷
Summary : When Elijah blew Annie’s light out, Isaac was the one who lit it again. Her man was good in bed, extremely fine, smart, a provider. Their love, or so they call it never been under hardship, until now. The twins were back in Delta, Annie gave herself a mission : avoid Smoke and make sure Stack keep his big running mouth shut about their little adventures.
Pairing : Annie x OC ; Smoke x Annie ;
C.W : blowjob, rough sex, dom!sub, teasing, cheating, gun violence, dirty talk, cum expansion, gun play
A/N : this 4-story (or 6 lol) is mainly smut with women characters with questionable choices (cheating mostly), no angst really but you all know me it’s never 0 risk. I’ll tag those who had asked to be tag and ones who commented ( since it’s smut, BDSM material, I will not tag my general Taglist because consent is cute. ) Thank you hornee cult ✨
Part 1 𓆦 Part 2 𓆦 Part 3 𓆦 Part 4
“You good on this. I rather be eaten by those gators near the swamp than laying a finger on you, baby.”
“Lord strike you down where you stand for that one.”
He advanced toward her, crowded her face with his, lips fluttering against hers. Raptured, her hands loose at her side, Annie squeezed her eyes shut, waiting for a kiss. Instead, she heard laughs. Smoke had staged back and was walking away from her.
“I’m not ready to get eaten by gators tonight.”
Annie left out a bitter laugh, the pearls in her hair clicking as she shook her head. “Seven years and you ain’t got no sorry for me Smoke?”
He stilled in his steps, turned around and washed over her whole frame, the taste of betrayal sitting in his guts. That woman sure had audacity to stood there and lecture him after everything she did.
“You must be glad I ain’t shot you dead when you passed the door of my house Annie.” He spat.
Threatened, Annie’s bravado ran out the first exit. She kept her jaw tight and lips sealed for a moment, her brain doing maths.
Did Stack confessed?
Why was Smoke reacting that way? Why she cared anyway?
Sweat beaded at her temples, thighs started to damp, her heart clocking fast in her chest, nose twitching nervously like a cat who had be caught stealing a fish.
“Keep that mob special attention for those afraid of you.” She managed to murmured.
“Speak wit your tongue clacking your teeth Annabelle. Or cry me a river with that nonsense.”
He pushed open a metallic door at the end of the hall, the hinges swinging wide onto a poorly-lit room that smelled of cedarwood and old bourbon — shelves lined the walls floor to ceiling, bottles catching the a lamplight, crates stacked two and three high along the back wall, a desk sitting clean in the center with a chair tucked under it.
Annie followed him inside without being invited.
Smoke didn’t look up, he moved to the desk, pulled the chair out, sat, reached under the surface and brought out a flat metal cashier box. He set it down and click it open, retrieving a thick stack of bills bound tight.
He started counting his cash without acknowledging Annie who was standing three feet from him.
“Man like me don’t do well cooped up with women he don’t intend on touching, Annabelle.” He licked his thumb, flipping through the bills, eyes down. “You might want to mind that.”
Annie’s heart knocked hard against her ribs. Mary mother of Christ ! She knew she had no business in this room, neither on this floor, or anywhere near Smoke, especially not with Isaac in corner and Stack’s name sitting between her teeth like a poison pill. Yet, her feet stayed planted on the floorboards.
Her eyes cut to the shelves, the bottles, the crates — storing everything he’d built since he came back, everything she hadn’t been there to see him build.
“Them heffas you had all laid up on you downstairs—” she hissed, sucking her tongue long enough to bit it.
“Wonda and Prune?” He turned a bill over, smoothed it flat against the desk. Unbothered.
“Whatever their names are. Throwing themselves at you like—”
“Like women who know what’s good for them.” He stacked the money even, tapped them once against the desk surface. “Better a short skirt with few access than a church long one with free access.” His eyes stayed on the cash, tone casual on surface. “Wouldn’t you say?”
Dumbstruck, Annie’s lips hung open for seconds before closing.
Smoke took half the bills and put in his pocket before lifting his eyes up to Annie. Sarcastically, the corner of his mouth stretched once before going still, gazing at her up and down.
It felt terrible how a face he used to worship was now, nothing more than a board of dejection, on which all he could read was loathe.
Years ago, her glistening and plum thighs would have made him lose the tiniest self-control he had. He would have bury his sinnerman deeds between them but now?
He snickered.
His only desire couldn’t be named without him spending years behind bars.
That memorable night. The day after their wedding, Smoke remembered her being uncomfortable, she had appeared pressed, bothered by something. Fool he was, he had preyed to know, still she hadn’t told him anything except that she needed to take care of an urgent matter. How of a bad husband he would have been if he had ordered her to stay at home, listening to his insecurity.
So he had let her go. Feigning to be secure, to trust her.
An hour had bled into two and three and Annie hadn’t returned so obviously Smoke did went after her with a rough idea of where she could have been — he had pushed through the rotting door of the church house looking for his wife and had found her, dress bunched up around her waist, his twin’s face buried between her thighs, her fingers knotted deep in his hair, back arching clean off the pew, her fat tits swaying with every roll of her hips.
“This da last time. Make it quick.” She had whimpered into the dark rafters while rain hammered the tin roof.
That night had changed him.
Looking back, he had stood in the rusty doorway and watched his wife come on his brother’s tongue. How the man who looked just like him had lap her arousal clean.
The worst of it? He hadn’t said anything when she had came back home after, or when his brother had bullshitting in his ears about how much he loved him.
No, what he did — he had let that image sit in his gut for seven goddamn years, rotting there. He had fed it every day until it became something harsher than grief.
Annie’s chin lifted. “What exactly you tryna say to me, Smoke. Spit it out or swallow it.”
He didn’t answer her.
He closed the cashier box, clicked the latch shut, set it aside and stood up. He rounded the desk, rolling his sleeves down one cuff at a time, fingers working the buttons.
He advanced right in front of her — too close, the cedar and bourbon smell of the room thickening between them — and grazed his gaze leisurely over her curves.
“Smoke—”
He reached past her shoulder and lifted a bourbon off the nearest shelf. He poured two fingers into a glass sitting right by the side of where he had retrieved the alcohol and set the bottle back down without looking at her once.
Annie’s heart was hammering in its cage. Somehow the storeroom felt smaller than it had been sixty seconds ago.
Smoke held the glass out to her. “You wanted a drink.” He licked languidly the trim. “Irish old flavor.”
“That’s not what I asked.” She stuttered, her voice barely stayed even. “Are those strumpets downstairs—”
“Wonda and Prune.” He corrected again.
“Told you, I don’t give a fuck about their names—”
“Then stop bringin’ ’em up.”
He crossed further space between them, drowning her personal air, eyes dropping to her luscious plump lips.
“Elijah.” Annie fluttered, heart on her velvet, stomping against her chest.
“Mhm.” He drove his face closer, the tip of his nose caressing hers, breath hot on her cheeks.
Annie’s lips parted on their own. Her gaze turned blurry, the fever between her thighs rose hot and damp.
Smoke drank in her oiled and brown large breasts pushed up by her velvet dress while her whole body pulled toward him like a puppet on a string. Hesitantly, she flattened her palm on his sturdy torso — her panties done already soaked, gluing to the shape of her pussy.
“You really want to know what I meant?” He rolled his nose, grinding it back and forth — with slow motion — along the bridge of hers.
“I…I asked…ain’t I?” She pained to say with a straight face, as the fabric of her drawers tickling her now gooey clitoris.
He tilted his head, grinning cockily, his lips brushing against hers this time. “I’d have you bent over that desk with your dress bunched up around your waist.”
“I meant… that long dress of yours… I’d have it rucked up around your waist, bending you over.”
Annie’s breath snagged.
“I’d thrust two fingers deep inside your tight hole, stretching that pretty pussy open while you beg me not to stop.”
She whimpered, gasping — her hips bucking toward him without her deciding to, her drenched panties clung to every fold, fabric tickling her swelling clit with each press of her thighs.
Smoke cut his eyes to her, watching stars dancing in her gaze. “Then I’d stuff my dick so far in you, you forget every others name you ever knew except mine.”
Her palm pressed harder against his chest, feeling his heartbeat steady and unbothered under her hand while hers was coming apart entirely, her knees softening under the dress, whole body flushing hot under the velvet, her arousal threading thin and warm down the inside of her thigh.
“I’d make sure you to feed you every inch of that dick you love.” He exhaled once through his nose. “And when you creaming on it, walls gripping my meat and crying for more—”
Her whole body quivered, clit pulsing fat and insistent swimming in the dripping cotton drawer. A fresh rush of wet heat flooded between her legs while she fight to keep her composure.
“I’d pull out, and shove it down further your bootyhole, pounding your ass til you can’t sit on it no more.”
Annie hiccuped, rubbing her thighs together again. Then unhurriedly, Smoke stepped back, smoothing the front of his jacket with one sharp motion. “Unfortunately, I don’t touch what’s been passed around.” He walked off, pulled the entry door open. The blues rushed up from downstairs, loud and warm with Sammy’s guitar curling through the stairwell. “Drink’s on the house. Don’t bring Grace no trouble.”
The Blues faded behind him as Smoke stepped outside the juke, the night air wet, gnats circling the porch lamp above his head. He pulled a cigarette from his jacket, lit it, and stood there with his back against the outer wall, one hand loose at his side, gazing up at the sky.
He heard the footsteps before his brother’s figure cleared the trees and pulled his gun out the holster. “You best not step another foot, less you wanna go drink one with pop”
Stack appeared shortly after up, carefully rising his hands, eyes cutting between the pistol and his twin’s face. “Nigga you deadass bout movin’ like that? I’m your brother, Smoke. What is wrong wit’ you—”
Smoke ignored him, keeping his eyes at the blissful stars, the gun pointing at Stack comfortably.
“—I don’t even know what got into you these last years, for real. If it’s cause I pushed you to move north wit me, I hear you, I’m sorry. I know Annie waited for—”
POW
POW
The first bullet caught his thigh, the second his side just below the ribs. Stack staggered back and fell hard in the dirt, groaning. His hand clapped over his side, blood already flowing through fast.
Smoke tucked his gun back, crashed his cigarette under his boots. “Stay out the juke tonight.”
He walking in and addressed Bo, “Stack done messed up with the same rough guys again. Patched him up for me please.” He lied. “She gone?” He raised his eyes up in the direction of the storage room talking about Annie.
Bo and his wife shook their heads. The woman she came over with was still on dance floor, wilding with somebody’s son.
“Wonda and Prune done for the night. See ’em out” he ordered, dashing upstairs.
Smoke took the stairs two at a time, pushed through the storage room door and went still in the frame.
Annie sat on his desk with her legs spread wide, every stitch of the green velvet pooled somewhere on the floor, her pearls still nestled in her hair and nothing else — her large oiled breasts fitting heavy on her chest, her fat pussy open and glistening between her thighs, a whisky bottle uncorked and tilted in her hand. She poured the alcohol slowly, the amber liquid splashing over her nipples, running warm down the curve of her belly, pooling at her navel before threading down over her swollen clit in a thin burning stream.
She stared at him in the doorway and kept pouring.
Smoke stepped inside, slamming the door shut behind him. He looked at her — the watery substance trickling over her skin, the fat lips of her pussy spread open on his desk, her thighs glistening — and his cock pushed hard against his pants, pre-cum beading at the tip, darkening his crotch with damp patches.
Now that was something.
For seven years he wasn’t able to make it leak and all it took was her splitting like this?
“That’s a forty dollar bottle.” He grumbled rudely under his beard.
Annie set the bottle down, dragged two fingers through the liquor pooled at her slit and brought it to her mouth, sucking it clean, her eyes never leaving his face. “Mhm. So what’s my tab?”
Smoke crossed the room grabbed her throat, fingers wrapping around the front of her neck and pressing her chin up hard, his face leaning dangerously down close to hers.
“If you don’t fuck me—” She held his stare, thighs rolling further apart on the mahogany surface, her slick cunt nudging forward toward his moistened crotch. “—somebody else…down there will. For sho.”
His crushed tighter at her neck, while his free hand cracked loud on the desk beside her hip — his irises dilated and blackened.
“You think I’d let it get away twice?”
Annie’s chest heaved under his grip, her breath coming out ragged and strangled, pulse racing against his fingers, her eyes squeezed and fogging at the edges. Her whole body flushed hot from the bourbon drying on her brown oiled skin — nipples stiffening harder, her fat thighs trembling on either side of his hips with her gooey, juicy pussy leaving a wet smear on the mahogany beneath her.
With the last of the air filling her lungs, she worked her free hand down between their bodies, coaxing his zipper down tooth by tooth. Then, she pushed past the waistband with trembling fingers and cupped him.
His cock sprang into her palm — thick, dark, curved hard left, the head already slick and gleaming, a fat bead of pre-cum smearing warm across on her fingers as she wrapped them around the girth and stroked him slow.
“I’ll be good, please—” Annie cried, barely audible under the pressure. Her large oiled tits jiggled with each shallow breath, thighs spreading further on the desk, the wet lips of her cunt parting against the slippery surface.
Her thumb rolled over Smoke’s weeping, swollen head on every pass, dragging his pre-cum back down his shaft. “Don’t you want to feel good.” She purred. “You know you want to.”
His cock lurched in her grip, jumping hard against her palm, a thick gush of pre-cum spurting on her knuckles and down her wrist.
His hips buckled once, involuntary into her hand, his hold on her throat loosening faintly.
“You such a slut for making me enjoy this” He grunted, his meat throbbing hard in her stroking fist.
She twinkled coy, pried his hand off her throat and spun onto all fours on the desk — her voluptuous ass jutting back, tongue lolling out, tits sagging heavy on the slicked wood, her muggy cunt gaping open behind her.
Annie gulped Smoke’s cock into her mouth in one wet lunge, her mandible cracking wide around his girth, spit rushing out around the shaft, cheeks hollowing as she slobbering his massive length soppy.
He didn’t fit. Not even close.
His size split her jaw wide, the head punching the back of her throat before she had half of his dick, her lips straining around his meat uselessly.
Gladly, she took what she could and sogged the rest with her tongue.
She pumped once — her whole face driving down his shaft, nose grazing his belly then back up before popping off his cock, a thick string of spit snapping between her lips and his swollen head.
She flicked the tip of her tongue into the slit of his cock, circling slow, her eyes crawling up to his face.
“Wonda or dat Pruny gal ever suck you sweet like that?”
Smoke grinned, breathing a short laugh through his nose. He ducked his head, flexed his forearms to his sides and stared down at her, predatory. “Go on.” His voice coming out husky and cocky. “Fuck yourself on my dick since you want it so bad.”
Annie burped on his length, her roundish swollen nipples twitching at his words, both buds stiffening harder against the slicked mahogany. Lacteous, milk squirted, spraying from each of her peak, smearing it on the table and threading slow off the edge onto the floor with small splashes.
Her cunt swallowed the musky air, walls stretching in and out, slushy and needy, juice rivuleting from her hole down both thighs.
She took him back into her mouth, feasting — her fingers curled around his nuts immediately, cupping their gorged weight, fondling slow, rolling them in her palm while she worked her mouth up his shaft.
“Mhmm.” She pulled off enough to breathe it. “So full over there…” Her tongue swept his full length in one greedy stroke before she dropped her mouth to his balls entirely, lapping them into her mouth, his masculine sweat and musk flooding her nostrils, her tongue flopping wet and thirsty against the skin. “Make me your dirty little cum slut papa.” She mouthed it against him, her spit slicking everything. “You know I can take it.”
Smoke grunted, snapping his hips forward. He hauled her up by the scalp — pearls scattering, hairstyle ruined — and shoved his aching cock back into her mouth, the head punching her throat.
Annie choked on it — thrilled, her arm swinging back toward her sticky cunt.
“Who told ya to touch that pussy.”
She gagged around him, unable to speak audibly — all her attempts bubbling into a wet, doughy noises. Smoke thrust back and forth, deep into the back of her throat, his grip tightening in her hair.
“What was that.” He kept thrusting, relentless. “I can’t hear shit over all that slutty noise you making, writhing on my cock.”
Her vagina clenched and drooled, walls squeezing the empty air, her tits swaying burdening beneath her and rubbing together with each drive of his hips. Her whole body squirmed — overwhelmed and needy.
“You have no idea how many times I fucked my fist over them past years imagining that pretty mouth wrapped around me.”
Smoke yanked Annie down his shaft by her hair, grazing her nose long his belly him while she gagged, drool running down his balls and onto the floor. “You’ll drink allat cause I said so. Right, baby?”
He jammed deeper and she grimaced, her eyes screwing shut as pleasure and pain crashing together behind her lids — her whole body spasming.
“Shh sweetheart, it’ll feel better soon.” He groaned, patting her hair — his touches turning softer before releasing deep in her throat.
He flooded her mouth — rope after rope of hot cum surging from the tip, clearly more than she could hold. The overflow bubbled out around her lips and spewed down his shaft, spilling off his balls onto the wood below.
Her throat worked desperately, swallowing each droplet of his sperm hungrily.
When Smoke finally pulled back she chased him — tongue lolling out, lapping the cum that had escaped back up his cock from base to tip, cleaning every drop off his skin while her eyes crawling up searching his eyes.
He looked down at her, heart beating fast, sweat gathering at the slope of his neck. “See? I knew you wanted this.”
Annie was still on her knees when Smoke stepped forward, took her by the waist and lifted her off the desk.
She grabbed his shoulders instinctively as he crossed to an armchair and sat — with her straddling his lap — her bare thighs bracketing his, her slick heat hovering just above his cock. His hands locked on her hips before she could sink down, palms pressed flat against her hip bones, holding her suspended there.
“You know what I wanna hear.” His lips grazed her ear.
“Pleease—” She begged. “Give it to me please—”
“You liked it when I told you about all the depraved things I could do to you…mhm?” He drawled, slapping her ass.
Annie’s thighs shook against his — cooze shuddering. Her nipples pearled harder, milk beading at each tip. She squirmed in his lap, completely undone, her body burning from heat, unable to bear the ache of him right there and not inside her.
“Yeah ma’…” His hands softened on her hips. “If you a good girl I’ll reward you, I swear…so say it.” His nose grazed her cheekbone, voice dropping lower. “Tell me how you want to be fucked.”
Annie cried, burying her face in his broad chest. “I’m drenching your lap and I can’t take it no more, please—” she scratched his shoulder, digging her nails in his flesh. “Fuck my ass please…tear that bootyhole apart Smoke…you promised.”
“We both know how much you going to enjoy this…” He teased her pussy, flapping the head of his cock against her clit, grazing languidly his length through her folds. He coated himself thoroughly in her slick without breaching her entrance. “Do I want to please you?” He shoved the tip inside her vagina, just for her walls to squeezed around it, then redrew instantly. “Not really.”
“Fuck— Smoke—” Annie whined, her hips bucking, pitching down trying to catch his dick tirelessly. “Fuck me— or I swear I will kill you—”
His irises dilated, going absolute black, and his free hand drifted to his holster, fingers working the latch open without hurry. He drew the gun out, brought it up between them and pressed the barrel past her lips into her mouth.
Annie’s breath caught, her whole body going still on his lap, her eyes wide and glassy yet still burning with need beneath the shock of cold metal on her tongue.
“Oh really.” He hushed, his tone carrying sharp edges. “What if I do it first.”
She held his stare, warm and dazed, the gun heavy between her teeth — thighs trembling each side of him.
Smoke leaned over, brushing his lips along the hollow of her neck, driving down her collarbones. “How was it.” He began coldly. “Giving my pussy to Stack.” Instinctively she gulped, heart hammering in her ribcage “Whoring behind my back cause I was fool enough to not put a collar around your neck.”
Her heart skipped a beat, racing crazy, hurtfully in her chest. Her nipples stiffened harder against his shirt, cream spewing more cheesy between her thighs.
Her body was answering him before her ruined mind could stop it — thrilled, burning and deeply, shamefully aroused.
“You should apologize for making me do this to you, Annie.” He nibbled at her ear…
…And pulled the trigger.
POW
Nothing.
The click of an empty chamber sat in the room a moment. He watched her face — fear, regret, despair, delight, blending together. Her thighs press tighter against his, slicking him with her soaked wet folds.
Smoke pulled the gun out her mouth and tossed it toward the shelves, the metal clattering against the wood somewhere behind her.
“Kind of fucked up how wet you get, even in a situation like this.” His thumb pressed flat against her hip. “You want me that bad?”
She started crying.
Tears spilled down her face, not from fear but shame. Shame of realizing that he knew. All this time he had known.
“I’m sorry.” She sobbed.
Smoke brought his mouth to her cheek and kissed her tears away — the deadly light in his eyes still shining.
“Yes baby. You should.” He plainly uttered and brutally sank her hips down onto his cock, whitening her eyes.
Her whole body seized around his girth, hips snapping back and forth while she came hot on the floor.
The juke joint noise fell away behind them as they hit the road, Sammy’s guitar fading to nothing by the time they cleared the first bend. Three in the morning and the bayou sat dark and thick on either side of the dirt path, the cypress trees standing black against the sky, the cicadas running their endless noise through the undergrowth, frogs calling somewhere out in the water.
Marylise walked with her shoes in her hand, her sundress swaying, still humming something tuneless from the last song she’d danced to. She hadn’t stopped moving since they left the floor — her hips finding the ghost of whatever rhythm she’d been chasing all night.
Annie walked beside her in silence, her heels clicking slow on the packed dirt, her pearls somewhere in her purse, her hairstyle ruined and pinned back up in a loose knot at her neck.
“You got quiet.” Marylise glanced at her sideways, still humming.
“I’m tired.” She replied flat.
“Mhm.” Marylise didn’t push.
The dirt road expanded out ahead of them under a sky full of stars. “Good night, I’m going that way.” She waved and disappeared in the dark.
Annie sighed and headed home.
After passing by the swamp, she arrived, pushed through her front door and stood in the dark hallway a moment.
She had barely crossed the threshold when the bedroom light clicked on and Isaac filled the doorframe in his undershirt and trousers — his broad shoulders loose, face calm and easy.
“Hey sugar.” He crossed the room and pulled her into a hug, his arms wrapping around her back, chin dropping to the top of her ruined knot of hair. “Missed you.”
Annie — still disturbed by his presence — reluctantly hugged him back, her eyes pressing shut, smelling his skin : sawdust and corn liquor and something clean underneath, filled her nose while Smoke’s bourbon and cedar still clung to the inside of her dress.
“You back early.” She said, nestled in his embrace.
“Mhm.” He pulled back, looking down at her face, his smile easy. “Man turned out to be real good people. Got money, got vision. Talking about needing hands down here in the Delta too.” He shook his head like he still couldn’t believe his luck. “You had fun at the Juke?”
“Mmh mhm. I’m going to shower now.” She stepped back, slipping out of his arms.
She was already heading down the hall when Isaac exclaimed again, very happy. “Me and the guys sure, blessed. Those Moore men mighty kind.”
The purse slipped from Annie’s fingers.
“You said what now?”
“The men payin us goes by Moore.”
Pearls scattered across the floorboards in every direction, rolling and bouncing against the baseboards, clicking bright and small in the quiet of the house.
Isaac looked down at them, then up at her hair, then back at her face, a nervous smile on his face.
“Party must’ve been real wild, cher.”
Taglist : As you see I reduced the taglist to those who ask to be notified of this story — for some reason I don’t know I can’t find( for reason I addressed in the author note), Again if you want to be removed just tell me 🩷
Summary: Annie is ready to take all of Smoke and she’s done the work to prove it. In their secluded ranch home, Smoke takes control, guiding her through a slow yet intense night where trust, desire, and discipline collide as he takes her deeper than ever before.
Warnings: SMUT (Anal-play, dirty talk, Papa Smoke, Daddy Smoke, oral pleasure, size kink) Billionaires Annie x Smoke
This is a little treat for my girl @soufcakmistress & a look into what a life would be like for billionaire, power couple Annie and Smoke Moore. This takes place at one of their private properties.
Evening had blanketed the luxurious ranch, the sky shifted from gold to a deep violet and the vast land responded in its own quiet language. Katydids, field crickets, and cicadas woke. The pond gave off a soft shimmer. Somewhere near the tree line, the horses flicked their tails and moved closer to the barn, sensing that night had come.
Annie Moore stepped onto the spacious porch and paused, letting the air wrap around her. It had weight to it here. Southern heat. Fragrance. Memory. Evening on their land carried Smoke’s signature from the dark wood siding of the house to the line of lanterns he installed along the porch rail for her. They glowed like small fire spirits guiding her back every time she wandered too far.
The luxury ranch stretched wide and private, a pocket of the world carved out just for the two of them. Acres of pasture rolled away into the distance. A creek curved through the back woods like a hidden vein. Dear, and other forest animals stepped carefully near the pond at dusk, lowering their heads as if paying silent respect to whatever lived in the stillness. Smoke always said the land was alive. Annie believed him. It breathed around her and it listened.
The dogs had already begun their evening patrol. Bramble trotted along the fence line, a hulking shadow with eyes that missed nothing. Jet lingered closer to the porch, pacing until he was certain everything was as it should be. Annie watched him settle, then glanced towards the barn where a warm light glowed through the half-open doors. Smoke was still inside, finishing whatever he needed to finish before he put the day down.
The barn always pulled Annie’s attention. Its cedar beams held the scent of hay and leather, and the stable lamps casted a soft amber wash over the stalls. Midnight, Smoke’s stallion, turned his head at the sound of footsteps, ears pricking forward. Honey drop—mild-tempered and curious—leaned out of her stall as if expecting Annie to come in and stroke her muzzle. Flint and River shifted in the straw, the gentle scrape of hooves echoing in the quiet.
But tonight, Annie didn’t walk towards the barn. She stood on the porch, watching the last of the sun sink behind the ridge, the ranch house behind her. A house Smoke designed to feel lived-in and intimate instead of ostentatious. Dark wood floors. Soft lamps. Deep ruggs that cushioned her steps. A fireplace that never quite lost its ember scent. It was the kind of home that asked nothing of them except honestly.
Inside, the living room held a peaceful quiet. The broad stone fireplace flickered, casting shadows along the walls. Smoke’s favorite armchair sat angled towards the fire, his book still open on the table beside it. The kitchen beyond it glowed with under-cabinet lights, a soft golden wash over marble counters and shiny appliances. Pots hung neatly above the island. Fresh herbs and spices waited in jars and a heavy-duty wooden cutting board sat on the kitchen island like Annie planned to cook later.
Their bedroom sat on the second floor towards the back of the house where night always felt thickest and the quiet didn’t break unless they broke it. Their bed was low and wide, dressed in black linen sheets. The balcony door was cracked open, letting in a faint breeze that carried the scent of pine and distant earth. Annie could see the faint outline of the pond from where she stood, moonlight reflecting on its service. Smoke built this place for peace. Annie turned it into home. The ranch held both desire and a soft domesticity.
Annie eased further down the porch steps. Smoke’s silhouette moved inside the barn, tall and broad, presence unmistakable even from afar. She watched him for a long moment, the easy strength in the way he lifted the feed bag. The quiet confidence in how he moved through a space that obeyed him. Her pulse answered him from across the field.
It always did.
Everything on this land—every horse, every breeze, every grain of dust that’s suspended in golden light—knew them. Knew their history. Knew the magnetic pull between their bodies. Knew the way Smoke’s voice softened only for her. Knew the way Annie curved towards him before he even touched her.
Annie stepped back inside, the door closing behind her with a soft click, sealing her into the low-lit peace of their home. Shadows deepened along the hallway walls as she moved towards the kitchen.
It greeted her with open arms.
Wide counters of dark stone. A double farmhouse sink. Tall-backed leather stools lining the island. Everything smelling faintly of fresh herbs and wood polish.
Annie reached for the small alcove tucked between the pantry and the far wall. Smoke had designed it specifically for their wine, built into chilled shelving that displayed bottles like artifacts. Their vineyard was a passion project, a piece of their legacy, and the pride of the collection sat at eye level:
Boudreaux & Moore Reserve.
A full-bodied Southern red blend cultivated from Delta soil that runs deep with memory, mineral, and heat. Grown under long Mississippi suns and cooled by river wind at dusk. The wine carries both structure and soul.
It’s a wine of contrast.
Dark but luminous. Refined but untamed.
Each vintage is produced in limited quantity, hand-harvested and aged with patience, never rushed. The result is a red that doesn’t simply sit on the palate, it settles in, lingers, and speaks back.
Annie smiled as her fingers brushed the label.
A proprietary blend, typically composed of Cabernet Sauvignon for backbone, tannin, and depth. Syrah for spice, smoke, and body. And Petit Verdot for color, structure, and a subtle wild edge. The exact ratios shift slightly with each harvest, guided by instinct, climate, and taste rather than rigid formula.
In the glass, Boudreaux & Moore Reserve pours a deep garnet-black, almost opaque at its center, with a slow-moving viscosity that clings to the bowl. At the rim, a faint crimson halo catches the light. A quiet reminder that beneath its darkness, there is warmth.
The bottle is heavy, dark glass—nearly black. The label sits against it like a quiet statement. Matte black textured paper embossed in aged gold foil. At the center, a grapevine rises from the bottom of the label, its roots thick and grounded. As it climbs, the vine begins to unravel into soft curls of smoke, fading into the upper design. Hidden within the border, nearly invisible unless studied closely, are fine-lined details:
Subtle Rootwork-inspired patterns.
Coordinates of the vineyard.
A faint, almost ghostlike glow etched into the vine lines.
At the bottom edge, a single line reads:
“From soil to spirit”
Two forces. Two histories. Two fires learning how to burn in harmony.
Annie pulled a bottle free, the glass cool in her hand. The cork released with a soft pop. The scent rose immediately.
Black cherry.
Warm spice.
A hint of dark plum and oak.
Thick and sultry on the tongue.
A wine that unfolded slowly. A wine with weight.
She poured herself a glass, the rich color catching the kitchen light and glowed like garnet. Annie carried it through the living room and took her usual seat on the corner of the sectional. The place where she could see the kitchen. The hallway. The porch. The world felt anchored from here. And on nights like this, she liked to sit and listen for the sound of Smoke coming home.
The first sign was the creak of the porch. Then, the door opened. The unmistakable sound of his boots. Smoke always stopped at the threshold. Always respected the house she poured herself into. He braced one hand against the wall as he untugged the heel of the first cowboy boot. Then the second. When he stepped inside fully, the air shifted.
Smoke filled the doorway in a way that made the room feel smaller, hotter, more aware of itself. The barn’s heat clung to him. The scent of cedar, horse, sweat, and something unmistakably him drifted forward with each step.
His body was everything Annie loved. Broad shoulders, thick muscles. Arms carved from heavy work and heavy habits. A chest framed by a white tank that clung to him, damp in places from the work he’d done in the barn. Deep, brown skin kissed bronze at the high points. Neck glistening faintly. Jaw shadowed. Lips soft and plush but set in a stoic, focused way he carried when he had been working.
He wore denim. Well-worn. Low on his hips. Dark where sweat and dirt had touched. Faded where his thighs stretched the fabric. The sight of him alone could bring a flush to her.
Her man. Her husband. Her impossible softness wrapped inside a body built for strength.
Smoke didn’t glance her way at first, he headed straight to the sink. He turned on the faucet and ran his hands under the water, rubbing away dust and the lingering feel of leather reins. He lathered his hands good twice, his back flexed with each motion. Shoulders rising and settling. The tank stretching across muscle she had memorized with her palms.
Annie sipped her wine slowly, enjoying the view. Enjoying the warmth pooling in her belly. Enjoying the simple luxury of watching her husband move through the space they built together.
Smoke reached for some paper towels, dried his hands, tossed it in the trash, and only then did he look her way.
His eyes softened. Just enough for her to feel it. The quiet between them grew charged. Familiar.
Annie lifted her glass again, just to give her hands something to do while she admired him. Smoke leaned his hip against the counter and studied her in that way he did when he knew she had something on her mind.
Annie smiled. Knowing.
Smoke crossed the room with the steady confidence that always made Annie’s breath hitch. His steps were unhurried. They came from a man who never needed to announce himself. Smoke stopped in front of her, casting a shadow over her body. Annie lounged along the sectional like she had been poured onto it, her mint green abaya dress draped in soft folds, one shoulder exposed, the fabric slipping just enough to reveal a hint of collarbone and the gleam of her gold jewelry. The dress hid the fullness of her curves in a way that somehow made her look even more decadent. Smoke’s eyes swept over her, slow and appreciative, as if confirming she was exactly as he remembered from the moment he left her that morning.
Smoke leaned down. Not with haste. Not with hunger alone. With ownership and affection wound together. His fingers slid beneath her chin, tilting her face up to his. Annie didn’t lift her eyes right away. She slowly dragged her gaze up, blinking slow.
Smoke kissed her hard. A deep, claiming kiss that pulled a soft sound from her throat. His mouth moved against hers with certainty. His tongue stroked slow at first, then deeper when she opened for him. The kiss wasn’t rushed. The warm grunt he let slip vibrated against her lips. His hand held her chin in place while he tasted her and when he finally broke the kiss, he didn’t pull far. Smoke dragged his mouth along her cheek, down to the spot beneath her jaw where her pulse fluttered. His lips found her neck, and he pressed a lingering kiss there breathing her in before finally straightening.
Annie let her fingers graze her lower lip, still tasting him. Smoke watched the gesture as if it were a private performance meant for him alone.
He moved to his armchair beside the fireplace. The chair was wide, dark, softened by years of use and shaped to the weight of his body. Smoke sat heavily, spreading his legs without thinking, denim stretching over thick thighs. The white tank still clung to his chest, darkened slightly from sweat. He reached for the cedar humidor on the table beside him. His thick fingers moved with practiced ease as he opened the lid, selected a cigar, and held it between his fingers.
Smoke clipped the tip with a quick, clean motion. The cutter clicked with a sound Annie always found strangely intimate. Smoke lifted the cigar to his nose, inhaled its scent, and closed his eyes briefly as if taking measure of the moment. He struck a match instead of using his lighter. He preferred the flame. Preferred the control. The match flared, casting a warm glow across his knuckles as he brought it to the cigar’s end. He rotated the cigar slowly, coaxing the tobacco to life. The ember bloomed red. Smoke drew the flame towards him with a soft pull, then shook the match out with a flick.
He settled back, one arm draped over the armrest, the other holding the cigar with lazy dominance. Legs wide. Chest rising and falling calmly as he released the first slow stream of smoke.
His eyes never left Annie.
She sipped her wine under that gaze, letting the glass tilt languidly towards her lips. The red glow sat against her glossy lips before she drank, savoring the richness. Smoke’s eyes followed the movement, the swallow of her throat, the way her fingers curled the stem of the glass.
“You get into anything today?” Smoke asked, voice low and unhurried. It was a simple question, but the tone curled around her like a hand sliding up her thigh.
“Work,” Annie said, keeping her voice steady even though the air between them felt too thick with tension, “Checked on the vineyard. Tasted a new bach they barreling.”
Smoke nodded slowly, pulling once more from his cigar. The ember brightened and the smoke drives in a smooth ribbon from his lips.
“That why you glowing like that?”
Annie smiled into her wine. She tucked one leg beneath her and shifted, letting the abaya slide higher over her thigh. Smoke’s eyes dropped, subtle, then lifted to meet her eyes again.
“Maybe I just missed my husband,” Annie said.
Smoke’s jaw flexed. He took another pull from the cigar, exhaled a cloud that curled into the air, and tilted his head slightly as he watched her.
“Did you?”
“Mm-hm,” Annie let the sound linger, “Watching you smoking that cigar ain’t helping.”
Smoke smirked, the expression slow. He tapped ash into the tray, leaned deeper into his seat, and kept her in his unwavering gaze.
“You keep looking at me like that,” he said, “And I’m not gon’ let you finish that wine.”
Annie’s lips parted just slightly, “Maybe that’s the point.”
Smoke’s exhaled turned into a quiet laugh, low and rough, “Woman…you know exactly what you doin’.”
Annie sipped again, never looking away from him, “And you like it.”
Smoke didn’t bother hiding his agreement. His eyes dropped once more to her exposed shoulder, the shine of her gold, the soft curve of her thigh under the mint green fabric. When he looked up again, his gaze was darker. Focused. Heavy with every intention she had been hoping he’d catch.
“I always like you,” he said.
And the way he said it made Annie’s pulse thud beneath her skin.
She held his gaze, “You gon’ stare at me all night or you gon’ say something?”
Smoke let out a quiet breath, not quite a laugh.
“Ain’t my fault you sittin’ over there lookin’ like God took his time.”
Annie smiled, bringing the glass to her lips to mask her blush, “you been sayin’ that since we were young.”
“And I meant it then,” Smoke replied, eyes steady on hers, “but it hit different now,” he pulled from the cigar again, exhaling a slow curl of smoke, “you know you fine, right? Don’t roll them eyes. I’m tellin’ you the truth.”
Annie angled her body towards him, the wine catching a faint shimmer across her mouth, “you only sayin’ all that cause you want somethin’,” she teased.
“I’m sayin’ it ‘cause it’s real.” smoke nodded once, like he was stamping the words in place, “ain’t nobody on this earth I’d rather come home to than you.”
Annie felt that.
“Long day?”
“Long week,” he answered, rubbing his thumb along the side of the cigar, “Business. Barn was hot as hell. Midnight tryin’ to act up again. Flint damn near stepped on my foot,” Smoke shook his head but there was warmth in it, “but then I walk in here, and you sittin’ all pretty in green waitin’ on me? Day start lookin’ better.”
Annie lowered her glass, “I wasn’t waitin’.”
“Yes you were,” Smoke’s voice dipped, easy and assured, “you always wait for me, woman. Even when you pretendin’ you ain’t.”
Annie held his gaze for a long moment. Their history lingered in the quiet between them. Years of learning each other, years of wanting each other in ways neither had language for until they found it together.
“You miss me?” Annie asked softly.
Smoke’s eyes softened, “Yeah, baby,” he didn’t blink, “I did.”
Annie breathed in, “I missed you too.”
Smoke leaned forward, forearms resting on his thighs, “C’mere then.”
Annie gave a small hum of amusement, “You already kissed me, Smoke.”
“Didn’t say that was enough,” Smoke tapped aah gently into the tray, “I said, C’mere.”
Annie didn’t make a move. She sipped instead, teasing him with the angle of her throat.
“Maybe I’m comfortable.”
Smoke studied her like she was the only thing in the room worth knowing.
“You comfortable,” he said quietly, “‘cause you know I’ll come get you if I want you bad enough. And I do.”
Annie’s smile deepened, lazy and sexy, “then come get me.”
Smoke held her eyes for a beat longer, hunger simmering beneath the look.
“You keep talkin’ with that voice of yours,” he warned, voice low, “And I’m a forget about this cigar.”
Annie rested her head back against the cushion, the gold at her throat catching the firelight, “maybe I want you to.”
Smoke’s mouth curved slow into a dimpled smirk, “You gon’ get me in trouble.”
“That why you love me.”
Smoke nodded once, “one of the reasons.”
The tension was a familiar pull that lived in the air of their home.
“How long you been thinkin’ ‘bout me today?” Smoke asked.
Annie set her glass down gently, “Since before the sun came up.”
Smoke’s lips parted just slightly, appreciation moving through his expression like a quiet current.
“Yeah. That’s what I thought.”
Annie tilted her head, “How long you been thinkin’ about me?”
Some didn’t look away, “all damn day, baby.”
Their eyes held.
Smoke let the last ribbon of cigar smoke drift from his full lips before resting the cigar in the ashtray. He took one slow breath, eyes still on Annie as if he were deciding whether to stay in his chair or go where his body already decided to go.
Then, he rose.
The chair creaked under his weight as he stood, broad shoulders, denim pulling tight over his thighs. Annie watched him, wine glass loose in her hand, her eyes warm with a softness she didn’t offer to anyone else.
Smoke crossed the room and sank into the sectional beside her. The cushion dipped beneath his weight, pulling her closer. Smoke reached for her ankles with gentle yet work-worn hands, the contrast of tenderness and size making her breath slow in her chest. Smoke lifted her feet onto his lap, settling them over his crotch.
His brow lifted, “when you get these done?”
Annie smiled, sliding her toes against his thigh, “today.”
Smoke took her left foot in both his hands, thumbs tracing her arch. The neon yellow polish gleamed against her deep, dark skin, bright as summer lemons. Clean lines. Smooth cuticles. A shine you could see from across the room. As if the color was made for her. Smoke turned her foot slightly, admiring it the way he admired her dresses, her hair, her jewelry—quietly but with real appreciation.
“They pretty, baby,” he said, his voice having a rough edge to it but the admiration softened it, “bright as hell, but pretty.”
“That’s Crystal’s work,” Annie replied, brushing her dress over her knee, “she came over this afternoon.”
Smoke nodded slowly, “she know what she doin’. These nice,” he shifted his thumb, brushing the pad along the underside of her toes, “I like this color on you.”
“You say that everytime I try something bold.” Annie teased.
“That’s ’cause you make everything look bold,” his eyes flicked up to meet hers, “you know how good you look right now?”
Annie let her smile widen, “you sayin’ that ‘cause I’m relaxin’ or ‘cause my feet in your lap?”
Smoke leaned back against the couch, legs spreading a little wider under her claves, “I’m sayin’ it ‘cause it’s true. Dress hangin’ off your shoulder. Skin all glowy. This bright yellow against that beautiful skin. You sittin’ up here lookin’ like you know I can’t stop watchin’ you.”
Annie tilted her head, “You can’t.”
Smoke chucked under his breath, deep and low, the sound rolling through his chest, “No. I can’t.”
Annie moved her toes again, gently pressing into the denim crease at his thigh, “you like them that much, huh?”
“I do,” Smoke’s voice dropped, “I like all of you tonight.”
Annie felt that in her belly, “You tryna butter me up, Smoke?”
“Nah,” he said, shaking his head once, “I’m tellin’ you what I see. You sittin’ pretty in that dress. New nails. Drinkin’ wine. You know damn well you fine.”
Annie lifted her glass to her lips, “you act like you ain’t seen me dressed up before.”
“I have,” he continued rubbing slow circles into her arch, his hands big and warm around her foot, “You look rested. Soft. Like your day treated you good.”
“It did”
“That right?” Smoke angled her foot in his palm, studying it again, “Crystal do your hands too?”
Annie held up her left hand, letting him see the matching neon manicure.
“She sure did.”
Smoke’s eyes warmed, a slight grin tugging his mouth, revealing slight dimples, “Lemme see.”
Annie reached out, offering him her fingers. Smoke held her hand with the same tenderness he gave her feet, his thumb moving across the bright polish like he was testing the texture.
“You somethin’ else,” Smoke said, “Come in here lookin’ like this and think I’m just gon’ sit way over there.”
Annie smirked, “would you prefer I toned it down, Mr. Moore?”
“Hell nah,” Smoke released kissed her nails before releasing her hand slowly, letting his fingers trail along her wrist, “I want you loud if you wanna be loud. Soft if you wanna be soft. Neon yellow if that’s what you feelin’. Long as you keep bringin’ it home to me.”
Annie let her head rest against the cushion, a warmth spreading through her chest, “you really like them.” She tried to hide her blush behind her wine glass.
Annie l loved to hear Smoke gush about her. She eats it all up. Words of affirmation being one of her love languages. And it made it all the more better coming from her husband that didn’t do much talking in the first place.
Smoke nodded, “I like anything you choose for yourself. And I like watchin’ you show it off,” Smoke’s gaze dipped to her exposed thigh, “You know I’m weak for you.”
Annie wet her already glossy lips, “you tryna tell me somethin’, Smoke?”
“Just speakin’ on what’s true,” he said quietly, fingers gliding over her skin.
Annie took another slow sip of wine while Smoke watched her, thumb tracing idle patterns along her calf. The heat between them spread slowly. Intentionally. Like something the walls of the ranch recognized and leaned toward.
“Come sit closer,” Smoke said, voice thin with affection and something deeper. Hungrier.
Annie shifted, sliding her hips gently towards him, and Smoke’s hands guided her feet even closer across his lap. His touch never left her skin. The movement opened the dress along her thighs, a soft spill of fabric that revealed more of her skin. Smoke adjusted himself, one hand cupping her heel, the other gliding up the sole of her foot with slow, practiced pressure. His touch was firm yet tender like a massage that unraveled her piece by piece.
“Mm,” Smoke hummed, thumbs working into her arch, “Look at my pretty girl takin’ care of herself.”
Annie’s breath dipped. She felt the praise settle into her chest the way his hands always settled into her hips when he held her from behind—steady, grounding, warm. Smoke continued working his fingers into the curve of her foot, his gaze pinned on her face with quiet hunger.
“You somethin’ special, Annie. Every damn time I look at you, I see somethin’ new to love on.”
Her pulse fluttered. Annie was far from shy, especially not with him, but the way he said it did something to her. She let her toes trace the worn denim that stretched over his thighs, enjoying the way his jaw flexed just slightly at the contact.
Smoke’s voice dropped lower, a tone reserved only for her, “Lookin’ like my peace and my troubles at the same time.”
Annie smiled, her expression flirty, “If I’m trouble, you raised me into it, Papa.”
Smoke’s thumbs slows their circles. His eyes traveled from her toes, up her calf, over the slip of her dress, and finally to her mouth. Annie felt her breath catch. Smoke’s stillness always meant something. Did something.
His voice found her again, threaded with command and affection.
“You been wearin’ your plug like Papa want you to?”
The question didn’t land gently. It landed with power.
Annie’s whole body tightened. It wasn’t from fear. The air around them turned molten. Annie felt the change low in her stomach, an ache that came when he stepped fully into that role she asked for. Wanted. Craved. Her lips parted on a breath she didn’t realize she had been holding. Her toes curled against his thigh. Her thighs squeezed together as if trying to contain something that didn’t want containing.
Smoke saw it immediately. He always did. His eyes sharpened, darkened, but the warmth never left them. His was not a man guessing. This was a man who knew his wife’s body better than she did.
“Mm-hmm,” he said softly, thumb striking her ankle, “there it is.”
Annie swallowed, her voice when it came, was quiet but steady, “why you askin’ me that right now?”
“‘Cause you sittin’ here lookin’ ready for me. Everytime you look at me like that, I think about how you feel when you got it in for me. How you melt when I check,” Smoke leaned in slightly, eyes locked on hers, “How you open.”
The last word brushed over her mind like a hand cupping her pussy.
Annie’s heartbeat quickened. It was impossible to hide from a man who watched her this closely. The wine she’d been sipping settled warm in her chest, but the heat building now came from a different place entirely.
Smoke’s hand slipped higher along her calf, strong fingers tracing the softest line, “Answer me, baby.”
Annie breathed out slowly, lips parting. She lifted her eyes to his, letting him see everything she wasn’t saying yet.
“Yeah,” she whispered, “I been wearin’ it.”
Smoke’s grip on her calf tightened.
“Good girl.”
The words didn’t explode between them, they settled. They sank. They found the spot inside her that only he ever touched. Annie felt warmth bloom. Her back softened into the sectional, her thighs eased open as if her body made the decision before her mind could catch up.
Smoke saw it. Smoke felt it. Smoke owned that shift.
“That’s my woman,” he whispered, pulling her foot higher into his lap, his thumb stroking the inside of her ankle, “knew somethin’ was different when I walked in. You been holdin’ it in for me.”
Her breath trembled, “Maybe.”
Smoke’s smile was dangerous and deeply loving, “ain’t no fuckin’ maybe ‘bout you tonight.”
He brought her foot to his mouth and kissed the inside of her ankle, arousal blooming where his lips touched her skin.
“Now, tell Papa what you need.”
Annie’s breath eased out of her in one steady stream. His thumb kept slow circles against her skin, patient, gentle, a quiet reassurance that she could speak freely. That Papa is there to hear what his baby girl had to say. To tell him what she needed. To speak freely.
Annie lifted her gaze to him—soft, open, certain.
“I’m ready,” she said.
Smoke stilled. He wasn’t tense or surprised, just fully present. His gaze settled on her face, reading her with the same care he used on her body.
Annie’a voice came low, “I wanna take you fully now,” Her fingers tightened slightly around the edge of the sectional, “I’m not scared anymore, baby. I want all of you…and I want it deeper…”
Smoke’s voice softened in a way she only ever heard in moments like this, “You sure, Annie?”
She nodded, the movement small but strong, “I’m sure.”
“You know we ain’t gotta rush,” Smoke said, still rubbing her arch with the softest pressure, “we can stay where we at. Keep usin’ that size plug ‘til you good. Ain’t no timeline on this.”
Annie’s chest warmed. His patience was never performative. It was real. Lived in love. And that patience made her want him even more.
“I thought about that,” Annie said, shifting slightly, the dress slipping more along her thigh, “but I been sittin’ with it. Workin’ up to it. Trainin’ good like you told me to. I want you tonight. I’m ready for more.”
Smoke’s gaze deepened. Heavier, weighted with affection and desire woven together. He kept massaging her foot like he didn’t want his hands to leave her skin while she spoke this truth into the space.
“You prepped before you put it in?” Smoke asked, a question with care.
“Yeah,” Annie’s voice held no hesitation, “I did everything I was supposed to,” she paused, letting the truth settle between them, “I prepped right. Took my time. And once I felt good, I put the plug in. Been wearin’ it for you since.”
Smoke’s jaw flexed with smoldering appreciation.
“You did all that for me, baby?”
“For us, Papa.” She corrected softly.
Smoke leaned in a little, his eyes locked onto hers, “Come here, baby.”
Annie didn’t need to be told twice. She slid closer, her claves still cradled in his lap, her body drawn into his gravity. Smoke let one hand rest over her knee, stroking the skin with his thumb.
“You tellin’ me you fully ready to take your man like that,” he said, his voice low but hitting her like thunder before rain, “and you ain’t scared, not even a little?”
“I’m not scared no more. I trust you,” she placed her hand on his thigh, her palm warm over denim, “I want you deep in me. However you wanna take me.”
Smoke looked at her the way a man looks at something precious he plans to handle with care and hunger alike.
“Aight,” he whispered, “if wifey ready…I’m right here.” Smoke placed a kiss against her knee, “Now, you sure you want Papa, to take you all the way, tonight? ‘Cause you know what that mean, right?”
Annie’s answer was barely above a whisper but full, her eyes doe-like with desire, “yes…take me all the way, Smoke.”
His shoulders lowered on a deep exhale, like her words settled something in him too. That tension between them thickened, sweet and heavy.
“Then we gon’ do it right. Together.”
Smoke reached for her. His palm slid behind her thigh, guiding her from the cushion to his lap in one smooth pull. Annie went willingly, her knee brushing his hip as she swung a leg over him. She settled onto him with a soft whimper, her thighs bracketing his, her warm, wet pussy pressed close enough that he could feel it throb like a heartbeat through the thin fabric of her abaya.
Smoke took her wine glass gently from her hand, never breaking eye contact, and sat it on the table beside them. His hands returned immediately—both of them—sliding over the curve of her backside. He dragged his palms down her hips, over the full softness of her waist, up her back where the dress clung to her plush curves. Smoke explored her like she was familiar and new at the same time.
Annie’s breathing changed. Smoke’s touch always did that to her. He held her gaze with that steady, unblinking intensity he only used on her.
“If we doin’ this tonight,” he said, voice low and stern, “you gon’ listen to me. All the way through.”
Annie’s hands slid up his shoulders, her fingers sinking into the warm muscle. His grip moved over her backside again, kneading, dragging, pressing. Annie could feel the strength in every stroke, the ownership wrapped in tenderness.
Smoke’s thumb brushed the small of her back, “you gon’ follow my instructions,” he continued, “ain’t no rushin’. Aim no tensing up. You hear me?”
Annie nodded.
Smoke’s hand wrapped around the base of her waist, pulling her more into him, “Nah. I need you to say it, Annie.”
Smoke’s gaze dipped to her mouth, then returned to her eyes, “I need you relaxed. I need you trustin’ me. I need you lettin’ go when I tell you to let go, understand?”
“Yes, Sir.” She whispered.
Smoke’s hands cupped her ass fully now, fingers spreading and kneading, claiming the weight of her, “and you gon’ tell me if somethin’ don’t feel right. You don’t hold that in. You speak up. That’s how we do this. That’s how we stay good.”
“I will,” she said, voice steady and a little breathless, “I promise.”
Smoke’s approval was quiet but unmistakable, “good.”
His hands trailed lower. Smoke hooked his thumbs under the hem of her dress and slowly lifted the fabric. Annie raised her hips for him, letting the mint-green cloth glide up her further, revealing warm skin inch by inch.
When the dress rose high enough, Smoke paused.
No panties.
His breath eased out of him, slow and thick. His fingers dragged over her bare ass, tracing the round curves of her cheeks. He squeezed as much as he could, juggling her ass like they were two heavy ass cushions of flesh.
“Mm,” he hummed, eyes flicking up to meet hers, “you came to sit in my lap like this?”
Annie licked her lips, “Yeah.”
Smoke dragged his hands over her again, appreciating her, memorizing her, “you knew what Papa needed. Been a long day for me. Knew I needed to come home to this.”
Her hips tilted, giving him more of her to explore. Smoke’s grip tightened again, steady and grounding.
“I ain’t mad at it,” he said, his hand smoothing over her ass once more, “but you gon’ let me take my time with you.”
Annie nodded again, whisper-soft, “I will.”
Smoke lifted her chin with two fingers, forcing her eyes to stay on his, “say it strong, baby.”
“I’ll let you take your time, papa. Because it’s yours,” she said, voice firmer now.
Smoke bit his bottom lip, eyes holding something hot and devoted, “that’s my woman.”
His thumb drifted dangerously close to the place she wanted him to touch. The place she wore the plug snug between the plentiful flesh of her ass.
Annie shivered.
Smoke’s thumb grazed it. He smiled, slow and knowing.
“Damn,” he whispered against her neck, “You open for me, ain’t you?”
Smoke kissed her again, his tongue sliding against hers with a thirst that had waited all day to be quenched. Between those kisses, his lips brushed hers as he whispered to her. His voice came low, the tone of it curling into her stomach and spreading heat through her entire body.
“I need you tonight,” Smoke breathed, kissing her again, lips catching hers, “need to feel that ass take me deep.”
Annie’s fingers tightened at the back of his neck. Smoke kissed her until she sighed into him, her thighs opening just a little more over his. Smoke spread her ass cheeks, the cool air hitting her plugged ass, making her clench. He popped her cheek one at at time before dragging his hands from the top curve of her ass down to the back of her thighs, finger tips barely brushing the outline of her pussy lips spread over his big bulge.
“You hear me?” Smoke’s mouth brushed her lower lip as he spoke, “Been thinkin’ ‘bout you all fuckin’ day. Thinkin’ ‘bout how you gon’ feel when I put this dick in your mouth,” he flicked his tongue against her lips, “In Papa’s pussy,” his fingers teased her outer lips just a little, “Now I get to open that ass up how I want to? Mm…”
Another kiss claimed her mouth before she could answer. Smoke palmed the back of her head, pressing their mouths together until she felt her pulse responding to the rhythm he set.
“I’m proud of you,” Smoke whispered against her mouth, brushing her lip with the softest sweep of his thumb, “real proud. You tellin’ me you ready for more…baby, you don’t know what that do to me. But I’m a show you.”
Annie kissed him back with the same hunger building inside her, her hips grinding, body answering him in small, involuntary movements.
He kissed her harder.
“You gon’ let Papa dig in that ass?” He whispered into her mouth, words warm and thick between their lips, “ain’t no runnin’. Ain’t no teasing. You gon’ open these cheeks up for me like you know how.”
Annie whimpered softly into the kiss, her fingers tightening in his thick, coils. Smoke swallowed the sound, kissing her until she melted full into his lap. One hand kept squeezing one cheek while the other grazed the plug with his thumb. He guided her hips closer with lazy strength until she was pressed fully against the swell of him.
“That’s it,” Smoke whispered, lips brushing hers, “yeah, you ready for this. I can tell. Bet you drippin’ pussy juice in my lap.” Smoke popped her ass, “you trust me,” he whispered, resting his forehead to hers for a brief second, “I got you. All night.”
Smoke yanked Annie closer by the hips, then his hands went to her waist and without a struggle he lifted and slammed her thick body flush against his throbbing crotch until she could feel the rigid outline of that thick dick pressing insistently against her wet pussy. His rough hands clamped down on her plump ass cheeks, kneading the soft flesh with heavy squeezes that made her asshole twitch in anticipation. Smoke dragged his calloused palms over her bare skin in desperate strokes, fingers dipping into the crack of her ass and teasing the puckered rim of her tight little hole, sending shivers straight to her dripping pussy.
He molded his full lips to hers in a sloppy, devouring kiss, his thick, pink tongue thrusting and spearing deep into her saliva-heavy mouth, tangling with her sweet-tasting tongue in a raw hunger that had been building all fucking day. Between those messy kisses, Smoke’s lips grazed hers as he growled low, the gravelly rumble vibrating down to her pussy and igniting a filthy ache in her guts like he was digging in her already.
“Need that tight butt tonight,” Smoke rasped, sealing his lips over hers again, starting soft and teasing before plunging his tongue back in to fuck her mouth with it, “Needa bury this fat dick in down to my nuts.”
Annie’s nails dug into the back of his neck, scraping his skin as Smoke devoured her mouth with so much sloppiness she moaned with a broken sound into him, her thick thighs spreading wider over his lap, soaked pussy lips parting to grind against the bulge straining his jeans.
“You hear me, woman?” Smoke’s teeth nipped at her lower lip, tugging it before soothing it with a swipe of his tongue, “Been jerkin’ off in the office today thinkin’ ‘bout you. ‘Bout how this greedy little ass gon’ swallow my dick when I stretch it wide open and pound every fuckin’ inch inside.”
The kiss grew sloppier, saliva mixing as their tongues slid and sucked with filthy intent. Smoke’s hand crept lower on her ass, thick fingers tracing the deep cleft where her cheeks met, brushing right over the sensitive ring of her asshole. Their lips mashed together until her heartbeat thundered in her ears. Syncing with the oils of his dick against her.
“I’m so fuckin’ proud of you,” Smoke spoke hotly against her lips, his thumb smearing the spit across her mouth in a dirty caress, “real proud of my dirty girl. You tellin’ me you ready to take my whole dick up ya ass…fuck…that make me wanna wrack you right now.”
Annie’s breath hitched sharp when his fingers dipped lower, stroking the full globes of her ass cheeks, then sliding between them to circle her tight, pucker with deliberate pressure. Applying force against the plug. Smoke dragged his fingertips over the jeweled end, feeling it clench and quiver under his touch while his other palm cupped her ass, squeezing hard enough to leave marks. Annie kissed him back, her hips bucking, her asshole fluttering as slick arousal leaked from her pussy.
“Tonight, you givin’ me that ass completely,” he growled into her mouth, the words thick and dripping with lust between their slick lips, “you gon’ spread those cheeks and let me ram my dick in, take it like the filthy anal slut you are.”
Annie whimpered into the kiss, a needy, broken sound that made her fingers yank his hair, pulling him closer. Smoke swallowed her whine, kissing her until her body went limp and pliant in his lap, fully surrendered. His hand kept groping her ass, fingers probing and massaging the tight entrance, the touch firm, coaxing, owning every inch. He rocked her hips down with lazy but unyielding force until her ass was clapping right on him, the fabric barrier doing nothing to hide how badly he wanted to split her open.
“That’s my girl,” Smoke breathed, lips dragging over hers in teasing nips, “you fuckin’ ready for this. I can feel that ass beggin’ for Papa’s dick.”
Smoke scooped Annie up in his strong arms, carrying her effortlessly to their kind-sized bed, the mattress dipping under their combined weight as he laid her out on her back like a feast ready to be devoured. Her legs dangled off the edge at first, but Smoke wasted no time, grabbing her ankles and hoisting them up, spreading her thighs wide apart until her knees bent towards her chest, exposing every inch of her glistening pussy to his hungry gaze. The jeweled base of the anal plug peeked out from between her plump ass cheeks, the toy stretching her tight ring just enough to prepare her for what was coming.
“Damn, baby girl,” Smoke uttered, his voice thick with approval as he knelt between her splayed legs, his rough hands sliding up the backs of her thighs in long, caressing strokes. His palms glided over her soft skin, thumbs pressing into the sensitive hollows behind her knees, then lower, tracing the curves where her hamstrings met her ass, “such a good lil’ slut for Papa, wearin’ that plug all day like I told you. Keep that asshole nice and open so I can slam this big dick inside you. Makin’ me so fuckin’ proud, Annie.”
Annie shivered under his touch, her phat pussy lips swollen and parted, revealing the slick pink folds beneath her big clit throbbing visibly like a fat pearl begging for attention. The plug’s presence made her ass clench around it involuntarily, sending jolts of pleasure up her spine that made her pussy drip even more, a trail of arousal leaking down towards the toy. Smoke’s fingers dug in a bit firmer on her thighs, massaging the muscles as he leaned in closer, his breath ticklish against her inner thighs.
“Hold them titties together for me, baby. Squeeze ‘em tight…push ‘em up so I can watch ‘em bounce while I eat this juicy pussy.”
Annie obeyed instantly, her hands cupping her full breasts, pressing them together until the soft flesh bulged between her fingers, nipples hardening into stiff peaks that poked towards the ceiling. She arched her back slightly, offering herself up as Smoke’s eyes darkened with lust.
He dove in without hesitation, his mouth latching onto her phat pussy with a wet slurp, sucking her thick outer lips into his mouth one side at a time. His tongue lolled out sloppy and broad, lapping at the puffy folds, dragging from her dripping entrance up to her big clit, which he engulfed fully, sucking hard enough to make it swell even larger against his lips.
“Mmm, fuck, this fat clit perfect,” Smoke groaned against her, vibrations buzzing through her core as he released it with a pop, only to suck it back in, his cheeks hollowing as he nursed on the sensitive nub like it was candy.
Smoke’s hands kept caressing the backs of her thighs, holding her spread wide while his face buried deeper, nose grinding against her the outer, meaty flesh of her pussy as he sucked her entire folds into his mouth. Tongue thrusting in messy circles, Smoke slurped at her inner folds, pulling them between his lips with gentle tugs before flattening his tongue to lap up her juices, damn near swallowing them down with obscene gulps. The anal plug shifted slightly with each of her squirms, the fullness in her ass amplifying every suck and lick, making her hips buck up towards his mouth.
His sucks grew sloppier, saliva mixing with her mess to create a filthy sheen over her crotch, dripping down to coat the plug’s base. Smoke focused on her big clit again wrapping his lips around it and humming low, the suction pulling it taut as his tongue flicked rapidly over the tip.
“That’s it, good girl, take Papa’s mouth. Make you cum so fuckin’ hard before I fuck that ass raw.”
Annie’s fingers tightened on her titties, mashing them together harder as moans spilled from her lips, her body trembling under the relentless assault of his tongue and lips, every caress on her thighs grounding her in the building ecstasy.
Smoke’s mouth stayed locked on Annie’s, gushy, phat pussy, his plush lips slurping greedily at the swollen folds, tongue plunging deep into her dripping hole before dragging up to batter her big clit with wet, insistent laps. Saliva and her juices smeared across his chin, dripping down to soak the sheets beneath her ass, the anal plug’s base glistening from the overflow like a precious jewel. Smoke sucked her puffy lips into his mouth again and again, tugging them before releasing with a filthy smack. His fingers dug into the flesh of her thighs to keep her spread wide and immobile under his assault.
Annie’s hands released their tight squeeze on her big titties, instead starting to jiggling them for him, bouncing the heavy melons up and down in rhythmic shakes that made them slap softly against each other. The motion lifted her chest higher, her stiff nipples tracing circles in the air but it also blocked Smoke’s view of her face completely. Those massive tits heaving like pillows obscuring everything above her stomach, leaving him fixated on the feast between her legs.
“Mmmph—ahhh!” Annie moaned, her voice breathy and high-pitched, the sound breaking into a series of whimpers as his tongue swirled around her clit. She arched her back and rolled her hips, pushing her pussy harder against his face, her ass clenching around the plug with each jiggle of her breasts and quiver of her thighs.
“Yesss, Papa…eat that pussy…ohhhh, fuucckkk, yesss…”
Smoke pulled back just enough to speak, his breath ragged against her slick skin, lips brushing her throbbing clit as he groaned, “Papa eatin’ this pussy good, baby? I know, you makin’ such a mess in my mouth, baby,” He dove right back in, sucking her big court between his lips with a loud, vacuum-like slurp, his tongue flicking the underside rapidly while humming vibrations through it.”
“Oh GOD—mmm, yesss, Papa! I love it when you suck on my pussy like that…ahh-ahhh-ahhhhh!” Annie’s moans escalated, turning into staccato gasps that matched the bobbing of her titties, fingers pinching her nipples now to heighten the jiggle, sending sparks straight to her core. Her hips rolled without her control, grinding her phat pussy against his mouth, the wet sounds of his slurping filling th bedroom like obscene music.
“Pussy so phat,” smoke muttered between sucks, his voice muffled as he latched onto her outer lips, pulling one side fully into his mouth and nursing on it with sloppy pulls, his teeth grazing the tender flesh. He released it with a pop, then switched to the other, his thumbs stroking firmer along the backs of her thighs, feeling the flesh quiver under his touch.
“So fuckin, thick and juicy, baby girl.”
Annie’s response came in a drawn-out whine, her body trembling as she kept jiggling her big titties faster, the slaps growing louder, “mmmm, yessss…ohhhh, Papa, don’t stop…haaah—yes, eat it, eat my pussy deep…nngh!” A sharp cry escaped her when his tongue thrusted inside her gushy hole, fucking in and out with quick, messy stabs, lapping up the fresh gush of wetness that coated his face.
“Pussy so wet,” Smoke praised, his words vibrating against her as he flattened his tongue to lap broad stroking from her entrance up to her clit, back and forth, swallowing down the mix of spit and fresh cream with a deep, guttural groan. Smoke couldn’t see yer spaced-out face or rolled-back eyes, but the way her thighs tensed in his grip told him everything—her body’s betrayal of how close she was teetering, “Drippin’ all over Papa’s face like a good fuckin’ slut.”
Annie bucked harder, the moans fracturing into desperate pants, “Ah! Ah! Ah-ah-ah—mmph! Yessss, Papa, I love your tongue…suck it…suck my clit…ohhhhh fuuuuck!” Her titties bounced wildly now, nearly smacking her chin with each heave, the anal plug shifting inside her and increasing the building pressure in her gut.
Smoke chuckled low against her folds, the sound rumbling through her core before he sucked her entire pussy up into his mouth again, cheeks hollowing as he nursed hungrily, “I’m suckin’ this pussy good, huh? Papa gotta get you right before I wreck that plugged-up ass,” his tongue delved deep once more, circling her walls before going back to sealing those big lips around her protruding clit, pulling and flicking in tandem—lips, tongue—determined to push her over the edge with his relentless sloppy feast.
His mouth never left Annie’s phat, wet pussy. His lips sealed tight with every suck, drawing out her juices with relentless pulls that made her thighs quake in his grip. No words escaped him now. Just the wet, filthy sounds of his whole mouthpiece working her over and over, broad and flat licks dragging from her drippy hole up to that big clit in slow, sloppy laps that coated everything in a sheen of saliva and cream. Lapped again and again, strokes wide and unhurried, pressing firmly against her swollen lips and aching clit, flattening the flesh to drag his heavy tongue slickly, releasing to expose how throbbing and soaked she is.
Annie’a ass clenched tight around the plug, the base pressing deeper with each involuntary squeeze, sending jolts of pleasure through her core that mingled with the heat building from his mouth. She felt pinned in place, her body locked under his hold, but she couldn’t help cocking her hips to the side in a desperate twist, trying to angle for more friction—yet Smoke adjusted instantly, his hands sliding up to grip her inner thighs and yank them wider, keeping her splayed as his tongue chased her movement, lapping at the shifted folds without mercy.
Annie froze there after that, body going still except for the tremors ripping through her, neon yellow painted toes curling hard in the air, her toes cramping up as waves of pleasure locked her muscles, “ohhhh…mmmph—ahhhhh—ahhhh!” Her moans spilled out in breathy bursts, high an needy, fracturing into whimpers each time his tongue and lips swept broad across her pussy, the sloppy wetness echoing in the bedroom. Her big titties still heaved from earlier jiggles, now settling into a subtle bounce with every hitch in her breath, nipples peaked and aching from neglect.
Smoke’s chin glistened with her mess, dripping steadily as he shifted to her inner walls, tongue probing shallow to taste the fresh slickness. Then, the slurping started—loud, greedy, noises as he dragged his thick lips before hollowing his cheeks again, pulling those lips towards him, sucking while his tongue flicked rapid against her entrance, drawing out strings of wetness. He paused only to spread her fully, his thumbs hooking into her folds and peeling them apart wide, exposing the pretty pink glistening to the cool air.
Smoke stared for a beat, eyes locked on her big clit standing swollen and proud, the thick inner lips framing it like petals heavy with dew, quivering under his gaze. The sight made his dick twitch against the bed and his nut sack tighten. Smoke kept her pried open with those strong fingers and dove back in to slurp, the sound filthy and amplified as his mouth engulfed her clit and lips together, sucking with wet pull that made her hips jerk despite her stillness.
“Nngh—yes, oh fuuuck…mmm, haaah!” Annie cried out, her voice cracking into a series of sharp gasps, toes curling tighter until the neon yellow polish gleamed under the strain, her ass clenching the plug in rhythmic pulses that pushed her closer to the edge. Annie bit her lip, stifling a longer moan that bubbled up, “Mmmph—ahh-ahh—sssss, fuck, Smoke!” Her body arched just enough to feed more of her pussy into his slurping mouth, “mmm, yeah…take it, papa,” she gasped out, voice thick with that NOLA drawl, all husky and drawn long on the vowels.
“Mhm, goo girl, feed Papa his pussy,” Smoke growled against her, the words vibrating right into her core, his Mississippi tongue rolling deep and rough like gravel under tires. He didn’t stop, tongue lashing out to lick broad over her pussy, tasting the fresh gush she gave him, “There you go, give it to me—gimme that phat pussy, baby. Yeah, push it out on my fuckin’ tongue, lemme suck this sweet pussy dry,” his voice stayed low and constant, filthy praises spilling between slurps as he sealed his thick lips around her clit while his tongue probed the edges of her inner lips, lapping up every drop that leaked out.
Annie’s ass squeezed the plug tighter with each suck, the fullness increasing the ache low in her belly, big titties bouncing lightly as her chest heaved. Annie bucked and rode his face, hips higher, grinding that phat pussy all in his mouth, smearing her wetness across his nose and chin, “Papa…ohhhh, Papa…I’m cummin’…I’m cummin’, Papa!” Annie cried, the words breaking into a drawn out ‘yessss’ that twisted with her southern lilt, high and desperate. Her thighs clamped around Smoke’s head for a second before he forced them back open, but she didn’t stop, “I’m cummin’, yessss, Papa, don’t stop—I’m cummin’ in yo’ mouth!”
Smoke hummed approval right into her, the vibration shooting straight through her clit as he kept slurping and twirling the thick tongue in tight circles around the swollen nub while his big lips tugged at her inner lips, stretching them gently before releasing with a wet pop, “keep feedin’ me, baby, that’s my goo pussy—gimmie all that nut, flood papa’s mouth wit’ it,” Smoke urged, words muffled but insistent, his breath heavy against her as he licked faster, sucked her clit, slurped her up. He spread her even wider, fingers slipping closer to her entrance to hold everything open, diving in to slurp directly at the source, tongue thrusting shallow to scoop out her release.
Annie’s moans turned into a chant, body arching and twitching off the bed as her orgasm ripped through her, pussing clenching and pulsing against his tongue, “Cummin’…Papa…cummin’ so hard—yessss, oh lawd, yes!” She wailed, that NOLA twang making the plea sound even sweeter, her hips jerking erratically to shove more into his relentless mouth. Waves crashed over her, juices squirting in hot spurts that he caught and swallowed with eager gulps, his free hand sliding up to pinch one of her hard nipples, rolling it between his fingers, “Papa—Smoke—Daddy—” her toes curled so tight the neon yellow nails damn near dug into her soles, ass gripping the plug like it was anchoring her through the storm.
Smoke’s lips vibrated with another filthy mutter, “Mmm, yeah, got more fa’ me? Gimmie every drop from this fat lil’ pussy, baby. You tastin’ so damn good, keep givin’ it up,” his dick throbbed heavy against the bed, but he stayed buried in her, slurping and licking until her cries softened into whimpers, her body slumping back, spent but still twitching under his hold.
Smoke eased off Annie’s clit with one last lingering suck, his full lips shiny from the feast, breath coming in no pants as he pulled back just enough to survey the mess he’d made of her. Annie’s pretty pussy glistened under the dim light, inner lips puffy and twitchy from his attention, juices streaked across her thighs and dripping down towards the plug nestled in her ass. Smoke pressed soft pecks all over her, trailing kisses along the outer lips, then up to the sensitive crease where her thigh met pussy, each one light and tender like he was worshiping the aftermath.
“Damn, baby. You did so good cummin’ in Papa’s mouth,” he spoke against her skin, voice low and gravelly with that Mississippi rumble, soft lops brushing her clit in a final gentle kiss that made her twitch, “Flooded me just right…taste like heaven, all sweet and thick. My good girl givin’ it all up like that.”
Annie let out a breathy chuckle, her chest rising and falling as she caught her breath, big titties shifting with the sound. She reached down to stroke his cheek, fingers tracing the wetness she’d smeared there, “mmm, yo’ mouth amazin’,” she drawled, soft and sated, vowels stretching lazy like warm honey, “you got me shakin’ still—lawd, wha you do to me. Ate me up.”
Smoke grinned up at her, eyes dark with hunger, then started crawling up her body slow, muscles flexing under his skin as he dragged his chest along her belly. His big dick hung heavy between his legs, brushing her thigh and leaving a trail of pre-cum, but he ignored it for now, focused on her face. When he reached her, he captured her mouth in a deep kiss, tongue sliding in to share her taste—salty and musky. Annie moaned into it, arms wrapping around his neck to pull him closer, their tongues tangling wet and unhurried, her legs hooking loose around his hips.
While they kissed, Smoke’s hand snaked down between her thighs again, fingers finding the base of the butt plug where it stretched her tight ring. He stroked around it gentle, circling the flared end with his thumb, feeling the way her ass clenched and relaxed under the pressure. The toy was slick from her release, and he pressed lightly, twisting it just a fraction to make it shift inside her, teasing the nerves without pulling it out.
“That feel good, don’t it?” Smoke whispered against her lips, breaking the kiss to nip at her bottom one, voice thick with lust and that sexy, country boy flare. His fingers kept stroking, rubbing firm circles over the plug’s base, dripping to trace the puckered skin around it.
Annie shivered, nodding as she nipped back, her breath hitching, “y-yeah, Papa…feels so good,” she whispered, hips lifting a little to chase the touch.
“Mhm, this how I’m a get up in that ass…nice and slow,” Smoke continued, voice dropping to a filthy rumble as he twisted the plug again, easing it in a shallow push-pull that made her hole flutter, “slow stroke it, baby…open you up real gentle ‘til you beggin’ for more dick,” his thumb pressed firmer, stroking the length of the toy where it met her skin, mimicking the motion he promised, while his other fingers splayed over her pussy to keep her spread, still sensitive from his mouth.
Annie gasped into his mouth, kissing him harder, tongue flicking against his as the sensation built low in her gut again, “ohhhh, Papa…”
“Ease this ass open for Papa to fit in it, right?” Smoke growled, eyes locking on hers as he worked the plug deeper with a slow twist, feeling her muscles yield bit by bit. His dick throbbed against her thigh, leaking more as he imagined sliding in there, but he kept the pace deliberate, stroking and pressing until her breaths came quicker, body arching to take more, “Yeah, that’s it—loosen up for me, let me stretch this tight lil’ hole wide.”
Smoke broke their kiss with a wet pop, his lips trailing fire down her jaw, nipping at the curve of her neck before dipping lower. He dragged his mouth along her collarbone, tongue flicking out to taste the salt of her skin, then zeroed in on her big titties heaving with each breath. Those heavy things rose and fell, dark nipples peaked and begging surrounded by wide areolas that begged for his attention.
Smoke latched onto one nipple first, sucking hard with a low grunt rumbling from his chest, teeth grazing the stiff bud as his tongue swirled around it in tight circles. Annie arched up, a sharp gasp escaping her as he pulled more of her breast into his mouth, devouring it like he was starved. His free hand kept working the butt plug, stroking and twisting it slow while the other reached up to grab a thick handful of her titty flesh, squeezing firm because it was his to own.
“Mmmph,” he hummed against her skin, vibration shooting straight to her nipple as he switched sides, licking a broad stripe across the underside of her other breast before sucking that nipple deep too. Smoke grabbed both now, big hands sinking into the soft, overflowing handfuls, using them like handlebars to pull her closer, kneading and rolling the weight in his palms. His fingers dug in just enough to leave faint marks, thumbs flicking over the wet peaks he left behind.
Grunting low, Smoke slapped her titties together with a meaty smack, watching them jiggle and bounce before burning his face right in the deep valley between them. He rubbed his cheeks against the warm, pillowy skin, inhaling her scent—warm skin, vanilla, and a trace of amber—nuzzling deep like a man possessed. Because that’s what Annie does to him. His stubble scraped lightly, adding a rough edge while he kept groaning, the sound vibrating through her chest.
Annie bit down on her lower lip, eyes half-lidded as she watched him feast, her body twisting under the onslaught. One hand threaded into his hair, holding him there, while her hips bucked faintly against the press of his fingers on her plugged ass, “you love these big ass titties, Papa?” She purred, voice thick, breathy, teasing, “they not too big for you to handle?”
Smoke met her gaze, a wicked grin splitting his face as he gave her breasts another squeeze, thumbs circling her nipples, “Hell nah, baby. These titties perfect for me.” Smoke growled back, accent heavy like gravel under boots before diving in again to suck one into his mouth with a hungry slurp.
Smoke shifted his weight, swinging one strapping thigh over her hips to straddle her chest, his massive frame looming like a shadow above her sprawled form on the bed. Those broad shoulders and corded arms flexed as he positioned himself, knees digging into the mattress on either side of her ribs, his heavy balls settling warm and full against her breast bone. Annie’s eyes locked on his fat dick, that long, girthy shaft pulsing with veins snaking along its length, the head flushed dark and leaking a steady bead of pre-cum.
He gripped the base of his dick, guiding it down into the deep cleft between her big titties, the soft sweat-glistened flesh yielding around him like a custom-made sheath. Her skin was slick from their sweat, a sheen of perspiration making everything glide smooth as he pressed her breasts together with his rough hands, trapping his dick in that plush valley. The fist thrust forward was slow, hips rocking to slide that veiny thickness up through the tunnel of her cleavage, the tip emerging just shy of her chin while his balls dragged heavy across her sternum.
“Oh, fuck, yeah,” Smoke groaned, voice low, that drawl thickening every word, heavy-lidded eyes boring down into hers as he started pumping steadily. Each glide smeared his pre-cum along her, mixing with her sweat to create a slippery friction that had him grunting deep in his throat. Smoke squeezed her titties harder, fingers sinking into the overflowing flesh, using them to tighten the grip around his dick as he fucked forward, the head of his dick popping out at the top of each stroke.
Annie tilted her head up, lips parting as she poked her tongue out, catching the tip on the next upward thrust. She flicked it quick an teasing, lapping at the skit where more pre-cum welled up, her tongue swirling around the broad crown in lazy circles that made his hips stutter.
“Mmm, damn, Papa,” Annie moaned against him, voice husky and breathless, “pre-cum taste so good, just how I like it slidin’ on my tongue, mmm,” Annie sucked the tip briefly when it crested again, hollowing her cheeks before releasing the swollen head with a wet pop, then flicked her tongue side to side across the sensitive underside, tracing a vein that throbbed.
“Mmm, titties swallowing my dick whole,” Smoke rumbled, staring down at her with raw hunger, his thumbs pressing into the sides of her breasts to mold them firmer around him. His thrusts deepened, slick sounds of skin on skin filling the bedroom—Schlick, Schlick— as his balls slapped lightly against her chest with every push, “you do soft, baby…mmm…big fuckin’ titties feel good on this fuckin’ dick, girl…got ‘em huggin’ me tight, makin’ this dick look small around all this titty-meat,” his voice dropped nastier, words tumbling out between heavy breathes, “takin’ Papa’s fat dick between these big ol’ titties—you must want me to paint ‘em up, mark you with my nut.”
Smoke kept the pace building, hips rolling in a steady grind, one hand releasing her breast to brace on the headboard above her for leverage, letting him drive forward harder. Annie held one titty while Smoke’s other hand stayed clamped on the other, kneading it rough as he watched his shaft disappear an reappear, glistening more with each pass. Annie worked that tongue overtime—swirling broad locks around the frenulum to make him hiss, then darting out to trace the ridge before sucking greedily at his slit.
“Keep fuckin’ these titties, Smoke…love feelin’ that big dick between ‘em gettin’ ready to bust.”
Smoke let go of the headboard and tangled his hand in her coarse hair, holding her steady as he angled his thrusts to feed her more of the tip, his balls tightening against her skin with the building pressure.
“That’s right, use that tongue, suck on that tip, nasty girl. Big titties got Daddy’s dick achin’ to nut but I ain’t done wit’ ya’ ass yet. Gon’ make you beg for it in that phat pussy next,” Smoke growled the words, pace quickening, the bed creaking under their weight as he lost himself in the sight of his wife beneath him, tongue lashing and breasts bouncing with every forceful glide.
“You want this dick down your throat, baby?” Smoke rasped, voice rough and thick, hips stilling as he held her gaze, one hand loosening its grip on her breast to cup her jaw tight.
Annie’s eyes lit up, her tongue darting out for one last teasing lick along the underside before she nodded eagerly, breath coming in hot pants, “want it stretchin’ my throat,” Annie purred back in that sultry twang, her voice husky.
Smoke dragged his teeth across his bottom lip while smirking slightly, sliding his big dick free from between her titties. He eased off her chest, thick, toned thighs flexing as he swung a leg over and stood beside the bed, towering over her like a wall of muscle. He reached down, strong hands hooking under her arms to help her up, pulling her body upright with effortless strength. Annie scrambled into position quick, turning to drop onto all fours on the bed’s edge, knees sinking into the sheets, ass up high with that plug still nestled deep in her puckered hole. Her big titties hung heavy beneath her, swaying as she arched her back, facing him with her mouth open and waiting.
She reached out first, one hand wrapping around his heavy balls, fingers kneading the warm, wrinkled sac gently at first, then squeezing just enough to make him hiss. Her other hand braced on his muscular thigh for balance as she leaned in, lips wide to engulf the fat head of his dick. Annie sucked him in deep right away, cheeks sunken as she took half his length in one go, tongue pressing flat against the underside to stroke along the pulling vein. Slurps filled the air—wet, obscene sounds as she bobbed forward, throat relaxing to swallow more, gagging softly when the girth hit the back of her mouth but pushing on anyway.
Smoke groaned low, his hand coming down to tangle in her hair, guiding her without forcing it, “Fuck, damn, baby. Suck that dick like that, baby. Throat takin’ me so fuckin’ good, all sloppy and wet for Papa.”
He leaned over her slightly, his free hand cracking down on her big ass cheek with a sharp pop, the flesh jiggling under the impact, leaving a faint, purplish bruise on her dark skin. The plug shifted a little inside her from the smack, making her whimper around his dick.
Annie pulled back with a gasp, strings of spit connecting her lips to his tip, then drove back in deeper, her head twisting side to side to tongue every inch she could reach. She swirled her tongue around the head on the upstroke, flicking the slit to coax out more pre-cum, then slurping him down again, making bubbles of spit froth at the corners of her mouth. They dripped down her chin in thick rivulets, rolling over her neck and splattering onto her swinging titties, making them shine slick as they smacked together with each forceful suck—thwack, thwack—nipples stiff and slick with saliva.
“Gahdamn, woman, you suckin’ the soul outta me,” Smoke grunted, biting his lower lip hard enough to leave teeth marks, hips bucking shallow into her mouth as she worked him.
His big dick was iron-hard now, veins bulging against her tongue, twitching every time she sunk those cheeks to suck tight or grazed her teeth lightly along the shaft. Smoke popped that big ass butt again, harder this time, the slap echoing as her cheeks rippled. Annie moaned around him, the sound muffled by needy, her hand tugging his balls former to pull him closer.
“That’s it, grab them nuts—work for that fuckin’ nut. Damn, this dick deep in your throat. You my nasty lil’ throat slut, ain’t you? Fuck, feelin’ too good, baby—gon’ have you chokin’ on every inch ‘fore i flip you on your back and wreck that plugged-up ass.”
Smoke kept the dirty words flowing, voice gravelly between grunts, body tensing as pleasure coiled tight in his gut. Annie ramped it up, sucking with wet pulls—slurp, gag, slurp—her tongue lashing relentlessly, spit bubbling and dripping everywhere. Smoke’s groans turned ragged, his grip tightening in her hair, biting back a curse as her mouth pushed him right to the edge, that tight, hot suction making his knees damn near buckle.
Smoke’s eyes locked on Annie’s face, mesmerized by the way her full lips stretched wide around his thick dick, slicing down inch by inch until her nose brushed against his trimmed pubes. He couldn’t wrap his head around how fucking incredible it felt every damn time, even after all these years with his wife. Her mouth was a goddamn vice, hot and wet, pulling him in like she was starving for it. Smoke bit down on his lower lip again, harder this time, a sharp sting cutting through the haze of pleasure as his hips twitched forward.
His hand moved from her hair to stroke along her cheek, almost tenderly, while his other palm came down with a firm smack on her ass. The flesh wobbled under the impact. It drew a muffled hum from her throat that shot straight up his dick.
“Fuck, suckin’ me so deep—ain’t no way this my wife doin’ this shit to me every night,” Smoke groaned, voice thick and ragged and laced with awe and raw lust.
Annie pushed forward, relaxing her throat completely now, taking him all the way to the base in one determined swallow. Her gag reflex fluttered but held, her esophagus clenching around the fat head of his dick as she held him there, nose buried against his pubes, inhaling his scent. Spit bubbled at the corners of her mouth, overflowing in thick streams that trailed down her chin. Her titties swayed with subtle rocks.
“Just like that…just like that, hold that dick in your throat,” Smoke rasped, his fingers tightening in her hair, guiding her to stay put for a beat longer before she pulled back gasping for air. He popped her ass again, the slap ringing out sharp, leaving a warm handprint blooming on her dark skin, “That’s my woman…suck your dick like it’s the only thing you need. This your dick, baby, all yours to choke on.”
Annie eased off with a wet pop, coughing lightly but grinning up at him through watery eyes, her tongue flicking out to lap at the underside of his dick while she caught her breath. Strings of saliva connected her lips to his glistening dick and she dove right back in, sucking him down to the base once more, holding it there with a deep, throaty gag that made his nalls draw up tight. Her other hand squeezed his sac, the heavy orbs rolling in her palm, urging him closer to the brink.
“Good girl, throat deep like that—swallow every fuckin’ inch for your man. You my nasty lil’ throat queen, ain’t ya? Tryna drain this dick with that good neck, makin’ Papa lose his damn mind,” Smoke praised her filthy, woods tumbling out between gritted teeth as he watching her work, coils swaying as her head bobbed and her neck worked, “yeah, baby, gag on it, show me how much you love chokin’ on this meat. That’s it, hold it…hold it right there, I know you feel this dick throbbin’ in your throat.”
Annie’s moans vibrated around him, her pussy clenching around nothing but the plug as she deepthroated him again, holding steady until her lungs burned, tears pricking her eyes from the effort. She pulled back slow this time, slurping loudly along the length, tongue pressing flat to trace every bulging vein before plunging down once more. The ache building between her legs from how turned on she was just from his reactions.
“Gahdamn, woman, you too good at this. Pretty wife with that magic mouth,” Smoke growled, stroking her hair soothingly even as he smacked her ass harder, the sound echoing like a drumbeat, “suck it deeper, baby, make them bubbles, let that spit run all over them big titties. This dick yours, yeah? Own it, throat-fuck yourself on it ‘til I bust,” his groans deepened, body tensing as Annie ramped up the suction, holding him buried to the hilt, her throat convulsing in tight pulls that had him biting his lip damn near bloody, eyes never leaving the sight of her eating his dick up.
From her vantage point on all fours, her gaze flicked up to his face—his chiseled jaw clenched tight, sweat beading on his deep brown skin, those intense dark brown eyes half-lidded and locked in her like she was the only thing that existed in his world. His massive chest healed with each ragged breath, muscles rippling under his thick frame, abs contracting as he fought to hold back just a second longer. Annie could feel the heat radiating off his body, his highs tensing like coiled springs, the scent of his musk in the air mixing with the tang of her own pussy in the air.
His hips bucked shallowly, fucking her throat in short, desperate thrusts. His dick was rock-hard inside her, veins bulging like ropes under the skin, the shaft swelling even thicker as the base of his dick pressed flush against her lips. Annie moaned around him, making his balls tighten up against her chin—heavy, full orbs drawing up close to his body, churning with the load he’d been building.
“FUCK,” Smoke grunted, the word rumbling from his chest like thunder, Mississippi drawl turning it into a drawn out ‘fuuuuck’. His free hand slapped her ass again, his focus shattering as pleasure overtook him.
His groans grew louder, animalistic, hips jerking forward as he chased the edge, “baby,” he rasped, biting his lip so hard she saw the white flash of his teeth against his soul patch, “shiit…you got me right there,” Annie’s pussy spasmed, dripping down her thighs from how turned on she was by his undoing—seeing her big, strong husband lose control because of her mouth, her throat, her everything.
His dick pulsed harder now, the head flaring wide in her throat, stretching her even more. Annie felt his balls contract fully, pulling up tight as the first wave hit him, “I’m a give your beautiful lass what you workin’ so damn hard for, o-okay?” Smoke groaned, his voice breaking on the last word, eyes squeezing shut for a beat before snapping back to her face, watching her take it all.
Then, he exploded. His entire body went rigid, thighs quaking as a deep, guttural ‘fuuckkkk, baby’ tore from his throat. The first rope of cum shot straight down her gullet, hot and thick, forcing her to swallow convulsively around him. From her view, his dick jerked violently in her mouth, twitching up and down, the shaft rippling as it pumped out load after load. Annie pulled back just enough to catch the next blasts on her tongue, eyes wide as she saw the veins throb visibly, the head swelling purple-red before unleashing creamy-white jets that splattered against the roof of her mouth, overflowing her lips in sticky strands. His balls pulsed with each release, contracting and relaxing, emptying themselves as cum bubbles out around her sucking lips, dripping down her chin onto her seating titties. He was so fucking hard still, even as he came—unyielding steel in her grip, only softening a fraction as the orgasm wracked him.
“Shit…mmm, yeah, swallow it all, baby,” Smoke panted, body shuddering, sweat trickling down his temples, his shoulders slumping forward slightly as the tension bled out.
She looks up, seeing the blissed-out haze in his eyes, his chest rising and falling in heavy waves, a satisfied grin cracking his face as he thumbed a stray drop from her lip and pushed it back into her mouth.
“Gahdamn, woman…you sucked me dry.”
As he pulled back, he felt the blood rushing right back in, swelling him to full mast again. Smoke stared down at her, sprawled on the bed with cum smeared on her chin and those big, doe eyes sparkling up at him.
“Gahdamn,” Smoke muttered under his breath, shaking his head in disbelief. Technically, he knew why. His fine ass wife—Annelora Solange Boudreaux–Moore—or Annie as he called her, had that effect on him. A simple smile from her full lips, that NOLA drawl whispering his name, and BOOM, his dick was ready to go again, like it had a mind of its own.
Smoke leaned down, capturing her mouth in a deep, appreciative kiss, his tongue sweeping in to taste the remnants of himself on her. His lips pressed firm against hers, sucking gently on her bottom lip before diving back in, swirling around her tongue. Annie moaned into it, her body arching up towards him, and he could feel the heat from her pussy radiating up, making his balls tighten anew. That kiss hit straight in the pussy, a jolt of need making her clench.
Smoke broke the kiss with a low growl, his hand sliding up to cup her jaw, thumb brushing her lips, “mmm, that’s my girl.”
With a firm grip of her hips, Smoke flipped her onto her back, the bed creaking under his weight as he dragged her body towards the edge, her legs dangling off. Annie let out a bubbly giggle, her big titties jiggling with the motion, that playful spark in her eyes making his dick twitch.
“What you laughin’ at, woman?” Smoke teased, his voice a deep baritone as he looked over her, one hand pinning her thigh down while the other stroked his hardening length, “I’m ‘bout to make love to this phat pussy and wipe that smile off your face. Turn it into cries.“
Annie’s laughter softened into a husky chuckle, her voice dripping with sass as she bit her lip, gazing up at him, “you say it like that ain’t what I want, Smoke,” her words were a challenge, her pussy aching for him, the plug in her ass causing her to shift her hips, sending sparks through her.
Smoke’s smirk turned primal. His dark eyes flashed with hunger. He grabbed her ankles, strong hands wrapping around them like vices, and folded her in half with effortless power. Her knees bent towards her ears, those heavy titties squishing up against her chin, nipples hard and brushing her skin with every breath. Her feet kicked up in the air for a moment before he planted his own wide stance on the floor, ass hanging just over the edge of the bed. Smoke used his thick, muscled arms to hold her there, pinning her thighs to her sides, his broad chest pressing down to keep her locked in place. Annie gasped at the stretch, her flexibility tested but loving the way his strength dominated her, making her feel small and owned.
Smoke lined up his thick dick at her wet hole, the fat tip nudging her swollen folds apart. Annie was dripping, phat pussy lips puffy and slick, that big clit peeking out at him. With a slow thrust, Smoke sank that big dick up in her, inch by veiny inch stretching her wide.
“Mhm? Pussy wet as fuck, baby,” Smoke grunted, his voice breaking into a satisfied hum as he bottomed out, balls slapping against her ass where the plug base peeked out. The sensation of her tightness, combined with the pressure from th plug made his dick pulse inside her. Annie whimpered, her hands clutching at his forearms, nails digging into his skin as he filled her completely.
“Oh, Smoke…yes, Papa,” she breathed in, eyes fluttering half-shut from the fullness.
Smoke didn’t waste time easing in. He started pumping her with deep, powerful strokes, his hips snapping forward to drive his dick balls-deep each time, the wet slap of skin on skin echoing through the bedroom. His strength kept her folded tight, her ass lifting slightly off the bed with every plunge of that thick dick. Smoke watched her face, loving how her giggles turned to moans, her mouth falling open in those sweet cries he promised.
“That’s it, baby girl,” Smoke leaned in closer, his breath against her ear, “take this fuckin’ dick like you know. Pussy squeezin’ me so good—fuck, you feel that?”
Each pump built the rhythm, his thick shaft dragging along her inner walls, hitting that spot that made her toes curl. Sweat beaded on his forehead, trickling down his temple as his muscles flexed, abs contracting with the force of his drives. Annie’s titties bounced with the motion, pressing against her chin, her big clit grinding against his pubic bone on every hilt.
“Harder, Smoke…please,” Annie begged, her voice a needy whine, body trembling under his control.
Smoke obliged, grunting with effort as he picked up the pace, pounding into her relentlessly, the bed frame rattling against the wall.
“Gon’ fuck you ‘til you can’t walk straight, Annie. My nasty wife creamin’ all over this daddy dick.”
His free hand slipped between them, thumb circling her clit in firm rubs, amplifying the pleasure until her cries filled the air just like he wanted.
Annie’s eyes darted wildly, flicking from his intense face-sweat-slicked brows furrowed in concentration, those dark eyes locked on hers like he was claiming her soul—to the mesmerizing sight of his fat, slightly curved dick disappearing into her folds and emerging shiny with her cream. Annie watched it stretch her wide, the way her clit throbbed against his base on each drive, her juices painting his length in a glossy sheen that dripped down to coat his heavy sack.
“Ohhh, fuck, Smoke,” Annie gasped, voice hitching with the force of it, her neon yellow toes flexing in the air as her folded body rocked under him. Annie whimpered, her big titties heaving against her chin with each powerful stroke, nipples peaked, “yes, Papa…tear it up,” she moaned, her drawl thick and needy, eyes glazing over as she felt another wave of slickness coat him, painting his dick white even more. Her hands clawed at the sheets now while Smoke’s feee hand gripped her hip, fingers digging into her soft flesh to pull her onto him harder, his grunts mixing with the obscene squelch of her wetness.
“Fuck, baby, you takin’ it so good. Gon’ make you cum all over this fuckin’ dick,” Smoke growled, snapping forward again, the head of his dick kissing the bottom of her pussy with a bruising force. Her cries sharpened, breath hitching in time with his thrusts.
Smoke’s strong hands clamped around Annie’s ankles, yanking her legs high and wide, hoisting her hips clean off the bed in one fluid motion. Her ass covered there, suspended in his grip. Smoke didn’t ease up—hell nah—his thick, veiny dick plunged straight back into her creamy pussy, driving deep and relentless, the head battering her A-spot with ever unyielding stroke. The bed creaked under the force, his hips pistoning like a machine, balls swinging heavy to clap against her cheeks with sharp, echoing slaps that turned her skin a deeper shade of mahogany.
Her big titties bounced wildly now, smacking together and swaying side to side. Annie’s face twisted into that perfect fucked-out glaze, eyes half-lidded and unfocused, mouth slack as drool pooled at the corner of her full lips, deep, dark skin sheenjng with sweat. Every inch of her looked utterly claimed, sexy as fuck while Papa Smoke wrecked her good. Annie was stupid on it, mind blanking out from the nonstop stretch and fill, her phat lips sucking him in greedily, cream frothing at the base where the joined, trickling down to soak the plug.
“Fuck yeah, take this dick, girl,” Smoke rasped, sweat dripping from his brow into her heaving chest as he hammered away, the wet squelch of her pussy louder than her gasps. His muscles flexed, biceps bulging as he held her aloft, using her body like his personal fuck toy, each thrust snapping her breath away and making her walls spasm around his girth, “so damn wet, gripping me tight, gon’ make you paint daddy whole dick and balls, fuck, this pussy goo—ahhhhh, fuuuck.”
Annie’s voice came out shaky, trembling, breaking as another wave built fast and fierce, “Papa…I’m gon’ squirt,” Annie warned, the words slurring through gritted teeth, her body tensing in his hold, thighs quivering against his palms while her pussy clenched harder, ready to unleash.
“Don’t tell me, do the shit, push it out on this dick, baby. Go on, push f’me. That’s my gushy pussy, right? I earned that. Push it…uhuh…give Papa that wet and gushy, girl.”
His words hit her like a spark to dry tinder, Annie’s body obeying before her mind could catch up. She bore down hard, muscles clenching in her belly and thighs, forcing the tension to uncoil from deep within. A sharp, electric jolt ripped through her pelvis first, her pussy contracting in fierce spasms around his plunging shaft, the plug in her ass adding pressure that made everything feel impossibly full and stretched.
Then, she broke. Annie’s release hit like a floodgate shattering. Clear fluid gushed out from her in forceful spurts, soaking his dick and balls, spraying across his abdomen and dripping down to the sheets below. Her hips bucked in his hold, the sensation a wild mix of relief and exploding all at once. Every nerve lit up, dark thighs trembling uncontrollably. A high, keening moan echoed.
Smoke didn’t stop. Fuck no. He powered through it, hips snapping forward harder, wet slaps turning even louder as her squirt lubed him up more, making his entry slicker an deeper.
“That’s it, baby, flood this dick,” Smoke growled, his eyes locked on the mess she made, his own arousal spiking at the sight of her losing control. He angled his thrusts to rub against that spot inside her, prolonging the hush, drawing out more sprays that splashed against his skin while her body shook and quivered. Annie’s mind went hazy, the pleasure bordering on too much, wall fluttering erratically as aftershocks rippled through her, leaving her limp and gasping.
Smoke eased his throbbing dick free from Annie’s drenched folds with a slick pop, pussy twitching from aftershocks, a trail of her squirt and his pre-cum linking them for a beat before snapping. Smoke leaned over her, lips crashing into hers in a deep, hungry, tongue kiss. Their mouths widened, tongues sliding and tangling with the taste of their own release lingering between them.
Annie’s hand slid down instinctively, fingers wrapping around his soaked dick. She stroked him slow, feeling the veins pulse under her palm, the head still flared and leaking as she pumped from base to tip, thumb circling the ridge to tease out more of that clear bead. Her other arm looped around his neck to pull him closer, big tits pressing flat against his chest.
Smoke broke the kiss first, nipping at her lower lip, voice rough and satisfied, “Damn, you wet me up, woman.”
Annie grinned against his mouth, “you always know where to put that dick to make me squirt.”
Smoke chuckled low, sitting back to take her in. His hands hooked under her knees, spreading her thighs wide, exposing everything—the glossy sheen coating her inner thighs, her puffy pussy lips parted and glistening, and lower, that shiny plug nestled snug between her round cheeks, the base winking up at him. Smoke stared, hunger sharpening his gaze, one hand trailing up her calf to admire how the neon yellow on her toes gleamed in the light.
“You ready for this, baby?” Smoke whispered, voice dropping thicker, eyes flicking to hers, “Ready for this dick deep in this tight ass? Gon’ fill you up back here, stretch you just right.”
Annie nodded, biting her lip, her body still humming from the high, ass clenching around the plug in anticipation, “Yeah, Papa…I’m ready. Been waitin’ for it.”
Smoke grabbed on of her ankles then, lifting it high, his lips brushing feather-like kisses along the arch, tongue flicking out to taste the salt of her skin. He worked his way up, peppering soft presses from her heel to the ball of her foot, sucking gently on her big toe for a second, making her shiver, “Papa’s here, baby,” he soothed, eyes locked on hers, warm but commanding, “Gon’ take it slow, let you get used to me slidin’ in. Breathe for me, okay? You take it so good already with that plug. Now, you gon’ feel me own that hole.
Smoke’s fingers gripped the base of the plug, twisting it gently as he pulled, the flared end popping free from Annie’s tight ring with a wet, audible suck. Her asshole winked open for a second, a dribble of lube seeping out before it clenched back down, leaving her hole quivering and empty. Annie, gasped, hips bucking slightly, the sudden void making her clench her fists in the sheets.
“Fuck, that felt good comin’ out,” she said, voice husky, eyes heavy-lidded as she watched him.
Smoke sat the plug aside on the nightstand with a clink, then he reached for the drawer, pulling out a fresh bottle of lube—thick, clear gel that warmer on contact—and a small towel to wide his hands. His dick bobbed heavy between his legs, slick from her pussy, veins thick and prominent, the head swollen and leaking steadily now.
“Gon’ make this ass mine proper,” Smoke grunted low, squirting a generous dollop into his palm and slathering it over his shaft, stroking himself a few times to coat every inch, the lube making obscene squelching sounds as if mixed with her remnants.
Annie licked her lips, gaze dripping to his dick, then up to his face, “wait, baby…put on that cock ring first. Want you throbbin’ even harder when you slide in.”
Smoke paused, a smirk tugging at his mouth, and leaned over to the bedside table, fishing out the ring from the clutter of toys and condoms. It was a thick, silicone band, jet black and stretchy, about an inch wide with a subtle ridge rubbing along the inner edge for extra grip. The top part had a smaller loop designed to circle the base of his balls, keeping everything snug and restricted, while the main ring hugged the root of his dick tight. He handed it to her, settling back on his knees, “Go ‘head, baby. Stretch it over me.”
Annie sat up a bit, her big tits swaying as she took it, warming the silicone between her fingers. She looped the ball ring first. Sliding it down behind his sack, the material snapping lightly against his skin as it settled, pulling his heavy balls forward and low, making them hang fuller, more prominent. Then, she worked the main band over the head of his dick, easing it down the length until it locked around the base like a vice, compressing the spongy tissue just enough to trap the blood, his shaft swelling even girthier kn response. The ridge dug in faintly, a constant pressure that made the veins bulge out more, his dick looking even longer.
Smoke hissed through his teeth as it settled, the tightness sensing a jolt to his core, a deep building ache that made his dick twitch and pulse harder, precum oozing in a thicker bead from his slit.
“Shit, grippin’ me good,” Smoke rumbled. Flexing his hips to feel the pull and the way it restricted the flow and amped up every sensation. Like his entire length was on edge, ready to burst but held back. His balls felt heavier too, tugged forward, sensitive to the slightest brush of air. Smoke gave it an experimental stroke, the lube slicking over the ring, and groaned at how the pressure made his top hypersensitive, every glide feeling intensified.
Annie admired her work, tracing a nail along the stretched band, watching his dick jump, “looks so fuckin’ big like that. Gon’ feel you stretch me wide, Daddy.”
Satisfied, Smoke moved then, strong hands gripping Annie’s hips and flipping her with ease onto her back at the bed’s edge. He dragged her son until her ass hung off, cheeks spreading naturally over the mattress drop, exposing her puckered hole fully.
“Legs up baby. Knees to your chest,” Smoke commanded, voice firm but laced with that affectionate drawl.
Annie obeyed quickly, hooking her arms under her thighs and pulling them high, folding herself open like a present, her phat pussy lips parting above her ass, clit peeking swollen and dark while that asshole winked invitingly below.
Smoke stepped between her spread thighs, one foot on the floor for leverage, the other knee on the bed, towering over her like that. His lubed dick in hand, he pressed the blunt tip right against her rim, rubbing slow circles, smearing the gel around her entrance, feeling the heat of her hole kiss back. The ring at his base made every nudge feel sharper, his head budging insistent but not pushing in yet, just teasing, dipping shallow to let her relax around the pressure.
“Breathe deep for me, baby. Feel that tip right there? That’s where I’m goin’. Deep as you can take.”
Annie’s breath hitched sharp, a low whine escaping her throat as that thick tip forced her open. It burned at first, a deep, insistent stretch that made her asshole flutter an clench, trying to push him out even as her body craved more. But the lube smoothed it, turning the ache into a throbbing heat that radiated up her spine, her pussy clenching empty above in sympathy, juices trickling down to mix with the slick at her hole. Fullness bloomed inside her, pressure building like she was being split ski and thorough, every vein on his shaft dragging against her inner ridges as he sank deeper.
“Ooh, Smoke…it’s so big…stretchin’ me so wide,” her voice was thick with need, body trembling under the intensity, nerves firing wild as pleasure edged in, making her clit pulse untouched.
For Snoke, it was pure fuckin’ heaven. The way her ass gripped him like a hot, velvet fist, tighter than her pussy ever could, sucking at his length with every careful thrust forward. The cock ring bit in at his base, amplifying everything, trapping the blood so his shaft swelled even harder inside her, every ridge and vein hypersensitive to the clench of her walls. Smoke groaned deep, the restriction making his balls draw up tight, aching with the need to bury himself balls deep.
“Good girl, Annie…that’s my baby, takin’ Papa’s dick so good,” Smoke rumbled, eyes locked on where they joined, mesmerized by the sight of her hole devouring him. Smoke pushed another inch, feeling her yield.
The faded into a delicious fullness that made her hips twitch, wanting him all in, her ass quivering around the invading thickness. Pressure built low in her belly, pussy lips swelling further, clit throbbing as if jealous of the attention below.
“Suckin’ me in, ain’t you? Fuck, this ass is grippin’ so tight,” Snoke growled, his hands sliding to her cheeks, spreading her wider to watch himself disappear, the sensation like fire coiling in his gut.
Snoke rocked forward again, easing past the halfway mark, her walls rippling around him, drawing him deeper with involuntary spasms. Sweat beaded on his brow, muscles in his arms flexing as he held back, savoring the drag, the way she fluttered and fought to take him.
“Yesss, let Papa open this ass up…you doin’ so good, baby.”
Annie's eyes watered a bit but it was from the overwhelming rush, her body arching as much as the position allowed. Waves of pleasure rolled through her, the fullness pressing against spots inside that makes her gasp and whimper.
“Deeper, please…feels like you rearrangin’ me,” Annie panted, voice husky, loving the way he filled her completely, every nerve alight.
Smoke chuckled, thrusting shallow now to loosen her up, the motion sending jolts up his spine, his dick throbbing, “Gon’ fuck you ‘til you screamin’ my name. You look so beautiful like this, all opened up for me, takin’ it like a champ,” Another inch sank in, her hole stretching taut around his girth and he praised her more, words filthy and tender mixed, “There you go, my good girl…Papa’s gon’ make this hole his forever.”
Smoke folded her up tight, knees to chest, big tits squished between them as her ass lifted higher, that stretched hole fully impaled in his dick. With a deep breath, Smoke pulled back slow, the slick drag of her ass clinging to every inch, lube squelching wet as he withdrew to the tip, her ring fluttering reluctant around the ridge of his crown. Then, he drove in again, bottoming out with a firm slap of his hips to her cheeks, the ring tapping rhythmically against her skin with each thrust, a lewd smack echoing in the bedroom.
Annie’s ass clenched with each pass, creating a suction that tugged at his skin, making his dick throb harder. His balls tightened with the buildup, the restriction amplifying every sensation until his abs clenched, thighs burning from pleasure coiled low and fierce in his gut, urging him to go harder but holding back to savor the slide.
Smoke looked down at Annie, his big titty wife all folded and vulnerable, lips parted in a constant moan, pussy glistening above. She looked so damn sexy like that, fucked open and taking him deep, her asshole stretched wide around his girth, the sight making his dick twitch inside her.
“Papa in that ass, baby?” Smoke rasped, voice thick, pulling out slow again, watching her hole try to follow before he sank back in, lube slurping softly around them.
Annie gasped, body shuddering with the fullness, the deep strokes hitting nerves that made her toes flex, “y-yess, Papa…all in my ass,” Annie whimpered.
“Papa making that ass feel good, huh?” Another slow pull-out, then plunge, Smoke’s body buzzing, muscles flexing as he held her folded, the sensation of her tightness making his pulse race.
“Oh, fuck, yes…feels so full, so good stretchin’ me,” Annie panted, her big tits bouncing slightly with each stroke, pussy dripping onto his balls below, the pressure building inside her like a storm.
The way she bit her lip had Smoke locked on her face, picking up the pace just a fraction, the wet sounds growing louder, “you like big dick in your butt, don’t you?” Smoke pressed, voice dropping low and commanding, hips rolling to bury himself fully, the glide of her insides stroking him perfect.
“Mmm, love it, Smoke…love that big dick fillin’ my butt,” Annie confessed breathlessly.
Smoke eased out just enough to reposition. He locked eyes with her, voice dropping to that commanding growl, “hold your ankles, baby. Grip ‘em tight for me.”
Her hands reached down to wrap around her ankles, pulling her legs wide and back, filing herself deeper. Her phat pussy lips parted more. Smoke leaned back on his knees, hands on her thighs for leverage, admiring how she looked splayed out, big tits heaving.
“Now, Papa ‘bout to go faster. Gon’ fuck this ass open real good, okay? You gotta keep these legs open, Annie. That’s the only way I’m a fuck this ass how you want it, understand? You gotta do as you told to get what you want, baby. Say, yes sir.”
“Y-yes, Sir,” Annie spoke breathlessly.
Smoke’s hips snapped forward harder, pace building, each plunge pulling her rim taut around his shaft, the lube letting him slide in and out with obscene slaps, balls swinging to tap her cheeks. The cock ring smacked against her skin louder, that big dick pistoning full length, from tip to base, her insides rippling in protest and pleasure, gripping him like a vice that loosened just enough with every drive.
One hand shot up to grab a handful of her big titty, fingers sinking into the soft flesh, kneading rough as he pinched her nipple between thumb and forefinger, rolling it firm. His other hand dipped lower, thumb circling her big, phat clit, stroking over it in a firm circle, the nub hard and pulsing under his touch. Annie bucked at the contact, a fresh gush of wetness coating his fingers, her ass clenching down on his dick in response.
When his thumb pulled back, a thick, slimy trail of her arousal stretched her clit to his skin, glistening in the light, pussy absolutely soaked, juices trailing down to mix with the lube around his base. Smoke’s eyes heated at the sight, his thrusts picking up speed, pounding deeper.
“Damn, baby, you so fuckin’ wet,” his thumb dipped back to swipe through her slick again before returning to rub her clit steady, “yeah, you feelin’ good.”
The dual assault in her ass and clit sent shocks through her, “yes, Papa…feels fuckin’ amazin’ stretchin’ and fuckin’ me so deep with that big ass dick,” Annie’s walls spasmed around him.
Smoke’s rhythm shifted, his body coiling like a predator ready to unleash. Smoke released her ankle grip with a firm pat on her thigh, but she kept them hooked tight, legs splayed obscenely, her plush frame pinned open for him. Rising up, Smoke planted his fists on either side of her hips, knuckles digging into the mattress, toes curling for balance as he shifted into that push-up stance, his massive, muscled frame hovering dominant over her softer curves—broad shoulders, flexing, abs rippling under sweat-slicked skin, that thick dick still buried deep in her ass, twitching with anticipation.
“Papa, gonna power through this tight ass. Take every inch of this dick,” Smoke’s hips drew back smooth, pulling halfway out with a slick drag that made her rim flutter,,5$3! He dropped forward, powerful thrusts slamming his full length back in, balls slapping heavy against her ass with a stinging smack.
The sensation exploded for Annie, that relentless drive hitting deeper, sending jolts up her spine. She was stuck, body locked in place under his bulk, the air punched from her lungs. No words formed, just a fractured gasp escaping her lips, her mouth falling open in silent shock as the pleasure bordered on overwhelm, ass clenching futilely around his big dick.
Smoke didn’t let up, hips pistoning smooth and forceful, each drop of his body driving that thick ass dick deep. His bulky strength pinned her without even touching, the sheer power of his thrusts rocking her tits wildly.
“Breathe through it, Annie,” Smoke rasped, voice steady despite the strain in his clenched jaw, eyes never leaving her face, watching every twitch, every helpless quiver, “you takin’ this dick so good, baby. Feel that burn turn sweet? Yeah, let it build, baby. Papa’s got you…making this ass mine, fill you up ‘til you can’t think straight. All you gon’ do is let me fuck this ass? This my tight–fuckin’–ass, baby? Who this ass belong to—”
“You! Fuuuuck—ssss—Smoke!—nnghhhhh—ahh-ah-ah—”
All she could manage were shards of sound—tiny, broken moans fracturing into whimpers, incoherent hums vibrating from her throat as he fucked her silent, plush body yielding under his torture. The friction built fire in her belly, walls spasming erratically, milking him as he powered on, taking her ass.
“All quiet and took,” Smoke continued, breath ragged, hips snapping faster, the head of his dick battering her depths, “Just feel it. Moan for Daddy if you can, but I know you deep in it now, thick ass built for this dick—Gon’ make you cum from this alone, watch you bust all over me,” his muscles bulged with the effort, sweat beading down his chest, but Smoke held steady, dominating her completely, turning her into a vessel of raw, wordless ecstasy.
Smoke sank deeper into her, that tight grip of her ass pulling him under like quicksand, every slide in and out blurring the edges of his control. Smoke grunted low. Lost in the slick drag and the way she yielded and fought back all at once, “fuck, Annie,” he muttered through gritted teeth, his voice a rough drawl this with pleasure, “this ass got me hooked…grippin’ my dick up tight, baby, you take big dick in the ass just how I knew you would…fuck, look at this shit…”
Below him, Annie’s body betrayed her in the best way, her pussy clenching on empty air, untouched but alive with fire. The pressure built in her core, a tidal wave she couldn’t hold, her clit pulsing hard without a single brush. Annie couldn’t wrap her head around it—him buried only in her ass, pounding steady, and here she was, teetering on the edge of release, juices gathering hot and insistent. Her thighs trembled in her own hook, neon yellow toes curling into the soles of her feet as the first warning spasms hit.
Smoke caught the shift in her eyes, that wide, desperate gleam and adjusted quick, hands sliding up to brace firm on the backs of her thighs, prsssing them wider, folding her deeper into herself. His hips kept rolling, powerful and relentless, slamming that full length home with each thrust, the cock ring bumping her, teasing without mercy. The bed creaked under them, his bulky frame driving down, muscles bunching in his arms and chest as he held her open, fucking her tight ass with a precision that bordered on savage—deep strokes that stretched her rim wide, filled her to bursting.
Eyes locked tight on hers, dark and fierce, Smoke wasn’t messing around, reading every flicker on her face like a map to her breaking point, “what’s that look, baby?” He rasped, breath uneven, hips snapping forward again, balls tapping with each descent all heavy and sticky with lube and her juices, “you feelin’ it coming? Tell Big Daddy what’s got you shakin’ like that…”
Annie’s mouth worked but the words tangled, coming out in fractured bursts, “S-S-Smoke, oh, God, I’m—gonna…I’m gonna…s-s-squirt,” her voice a high, breathless whine, barely audible over the slick sounds of him claiming her. Annie arched as much as she could under his weight, pussy lips quivering, the convulsion turning to a flood she couldn’t stop, her whole body tensing like a bowstring.
Smoke grinned feral through his clenched jaw, thumbs digging into her soft flesh to hold her steady, “yeah? From this dick in your ass? That’s my girl—let it go, Annie. Squirt all over me, soak me wit’ all that pussy juice while I tear this up,” his thrusts picked up, relentless, the head of his dick grinding her depths, pushing her right over as her warning disabled into a sharp cry, her release hitting hard and sudden.
Smoke’s voice dropped low and commanding, cutting through the haze of her building storm like a lifeline, his words wrapping around her as tight as his grip on her thighs, “That’s my good girl, squirt all over me, you holdin’ that cum in my pussy now push it out, let it out on me, girl, I’m a keep fucking this ass, I know that,” Smoke drove in harder, the thick base of his dick stretching her rim with every plunge, the ring at his root grinding against her, sparking those empty clenches into overdrive.
Annie’s body shattered under the pressure, her pussy contracting wild and fierce, the first hot gush erupting from her in a forceful spray that arced up, splattering his abs and the sheets below, “Ooooooo, FUCK, Smoke! Oh lawwdddd—I’m squirtin’!” Annie cried out, voice cracking high in that lilt, juices pulsing out in rhythmic bursts, drenching her thighs and his heavy balls slapping against her. Smoke was glossed up with all that liquid that shot from her pussy. Annie had droplets of it rolling over her dark skin.
Smoke watched it all, eyes burning into hers, “Hell yeah, look at you go, baby…my dirty lil’ squirter soakin’ everything like a good wife s’ppose to. Keep cummin’, baby, I know you got more in that phat pussy,” his muscles flexed, holding her folded and exposed, letting her ride the peak while he claimed her ass, the wet slaps echoing louder over her gasps.
Then, with a forceful pull, Smoke eased his throbbing length free from her ass, the sudden emptiness hitting her like a shockwave, her ring fluttering open, greedy and denied, sending a fresh surge through her pussy. Another jet shot out, stronger this time, spraying across his chest as she bucked, the sensation of him withdrawing amplifying the aftershocks, her walls spasming hard on nothing.
“Shit—S-Smoke, pullin’ outta me like t-that…more’s comin’! Fuuuucckkkk,” Annie whimpered, hips jerking involuntarily, the flood unrelenting.
Quick as lightning, Smoke’s hand cracked down on her ass cheek, a sharp pop that stung hot and made her yelp, the flesh jiggling under the impact, “stay still, girl—Daddy gon’ clean you up,” Smoke growled, the dominance in his Mississippi drawl thick as cold grits, bending his broad frame forward without missing a beat. His mouth descended on her drenched pussy, tongue diving in flat and broad, lapping up the mess with hungry, slurping strokes that dragged from her pussy hole to her swollen clit.
Smoke sucked her folds into his mouth, tongue swirling through the slick release, tasting her sharp and sweet cleaning every inch with flicks and probes, “Mmm, fuck, you taste like heaven after a squirt,” Smoke muttered against her pussy lips, the vibrations shooting through her sensitive flesh as he delved deeper, nose bumping her clit while his lips puckered at her entrance, sealing around her hole, drawing out more creamy wetness with greedy pulls that made her eyes cross. Annie’s hands flew to his head, fingers gripping coarse curls, thighs quivering.
Smoke’s tongue pulled away from her soaked pussy with a final, greedy suck, leaving her glistening and twitching in the aftermath. Without a word, his eyes locked on hers. Smoke shifted his hips forward, the fat head of his dick pressing against her still-gaping ass. He pushed in slow at first, the thick shaft sliding through her slick ring, stretching her wide again as she gasped, her body yielding to the familiar burn. Inch by inch, he sank deep, burning himself balls deep.
One hand planted firm on the back of her thigh, keeping her ass elevated and open for him. His other hand snaked between them, thumb finding her swollen clit, rubbing firm circles over the hard nub. Smoke didn’t ease in. Once seated fully, he started thrusting sharp and relentless, hips snapping forward to drive his full length into her ass with punishing force, pulling out his enough to slam back in, the wet smack of skin on skin filling the bedroom.
Her big tits bounced wildly across her chest. The bed rocked under them, frame knocking hard against the wall as his pace turned savage, muscles in his arms and back bulging.
“Yes, Papa, push that big dick in me—YES! Feels so good, mmm, yes, you fuck all my holes so fuckin’ good—make that dick cum, YES!”
Smoke stayed silent now. Only grunts escaped his lips—deep, guttural sounds that vibrated through his chest as he pounded her ass without mercy. His thumb pressed harder on her clit, feeling her pulse throb under his touch. Skin sweat-slicked and hot to the touch as he chased his release, the pressure building in his balls, heavy and full, ready to unload deep inside of her. Her praises fueled the fire as her tits jiggled erratically, body trembling on the edge of another peak from the dual assault.
“Mmm, that big dick throbbin’ inside…you fuck me better than any man, love how you make my ass grip that big dick…”
“Don’t stop, Smoke—balls slapping my ass got me leakin’ everywhere. You my king, poundin’ this ass right, Daddy!”
“Fuck, baby, I can feel you swellin’…give it to me…shoot that nut deep…that’s my man…my dick…I’m yours to fuck…yes…nnghhh…oh, Smoke, yes—”
Smoke’s thrusts turned even more ferocious. That dick was throbbing like iron inside Annie, heavy with a load he was about to bust. Smoke grabbed her thighs roughly, forcing her legs up higher, her knees hooked up near her ears like earmuffs, holding her in half and exposing every inch of her. Her pussy lips parted obscenely as he drilled into her ass with savage, piston-like strokes, the head of his dick battering deep, stretching her ring to its limit with each punishing plunge.
Annie’s body quivered uncontrollably, the pressure building on her stomach until it shattered, her orgasm ripping through her like lightning, pussy leaking a fresh gush of slick cum down her crack, soaking his balls as they slapped against her. Annie moaned loud and broken, whimpers spilling from her lips in a frantic song, big titties mashed against her knees.
A deep growl rumbled from Smoke’s throat, his eyes locking onto hers wildly, “Baby, babe, I’m a fuckin’ nut in this ass—I’m’bout to fill this ass up, fuuuck—say my fuckin’ name, say who fuckin’ you like this.”
Annie’s voice cracked through the haze of pleasure, “Elijah, fuck, Elijah, yes—you fuckin your wife like this. Can’t nobody fuck me like you do, Papa…”
“I love you, baby,” Smoke rasped, voice rough with the edge of release, and then it hit him. His body went rigid, muscles locking as his dick swelled impossibly thicker inside her. Pulse after hot pulse, Smoke erupted, thick ropes of cum flooding her ass, painting her walls white with his seed. The warmth spread as he ground against her, milking every last drop. His grunts turned to heavy breaths, hips stuttering to a halt, buried to the hilt as the aftershocks ripped through them both.
Summary: Elijah and Annie have always had a complicated relationship. Annie has always been a knowitall and Elijah has always been quick to correct. Years have passed between, life carrying them in different directions. Family dinner brings them together to find a new connection stirring between them. No longer 16 and 17, what happens when see's a grown ass man in front of her? How far will 'Smoke' allow her to take it?
Warning: sexual content
"Mama, aint no use in fussin over everything. It's just Mr. and Mrs. Moore," Annie was tired of seeing her mother fuss over everything. It was Sunday, and the Moore's and the twins were coming over for dinner.
"Don't sass me child," she scolded. "I gotta put my best foot forward at all times now hush up and wash them greens."
-
"I don't even know why Pop agreed to this dumbass dinner, we grown as shit now," Stack hissed through the phone to his brother.
"Y'know that the Beaumants are their people. It's called community nigga," he teased his younger brother. "Plus, Mrs. B be cooking the fuck out some greens."
"Swear if Anais have some slick to say-," Stack started.
"You gon bite yo tongue and not ruin this dinner," though Elijah intented to keep his tone light, seriousness cut through. He aint wanna go just as much as Stack, he wasn't going to disrespect them or their knowitall ass daughter.
It's been years since he'd seen her. He can remember her loud mouth, her wild eyes that burned amber in sunlight and the way her hand flew back to fling rocks at the back of Stack's head. The memory made his lips curl upward.
"Y'know what Brother, you right. I'm gon hold it tonight," Stack agreed.
-
Six o'clock rolls around, it's dark out and there's a firm knock at the door. Mrs. B smooths the front of her shirt out before opening the door with a big grin, "Now how y'all end up in this neck of the woods?" The two women squealing at the sight of eachother, turning into two school girls.
The twins stood behind their parents like they were two small boys again.
"Well damn, let us in," Mr. Moore joked.
As they make their way into the house Annie steps into view and Elijah's mouth goes dry. 'Damn, has she always been this fine,' he thinks to himself. The way her dressed hugged her hips, that have now rounded out and were very full. The way the dress showed off the curve of her waste and pushed her titties high on her chest. He couldn't have known that rough ass little girl would be this.. grown and... sexy?
"Nigga.. it's me or she fine as shit now?" Stack whispered. When Elijah didn't respond, he zoned in on his face. He had a look. He finally got bit by the bug. It was written all over him.
-
Annie noticed his eyes locked on her and for some reason felt hot all over. Everyone made their way into the house leaving them standing at the doorway alone.
"You gon keep starin'?!" It came out sassy but she was trembling inside. This boy- damn that aint no boy. Elijah was a man now. Tall with broad shoulders, arms bulging through his shirt. A full beard with lips that could send her over a cliff. 'Damn, he fine.' She couldn't let him know that.
He cleared his throat and stood up tall, "You can't help but have all that mouth. I can fix that for you." He eyes blaring into hers, time stood still.
Her breath caught in her throat, not wanting to show any wavering even though her knes were buckling underneath her. "Can't fix sum that ain't broken, fool." She turned on her heals, readying to head into the dining room when a hand grabbed her arm spinning her back towards him.
"Then it ain't fixin'. It's training."
"Touch me again and you gon' need some fixin," she growled at him.
-
They all settled around the dinner table, Elijah making it a point to sit directly across from her. The two families reminisce about old times. Laughing at stories the twins can tell now that they're grown.
Mr. B cleared his throat, "Yall two boys settled down?" Elias damn near choked on his food.
"Our children refusin to give us any grandchildren before we die," Mr. Moore announced sarcastically. And truth for Elijah changed as soon as his eyes landed on this flame of a woman again. He wanted her and didn't even know why. He saw his whole life in front of him. She couldn't stop being an ass long enough to allow her to feel it.
Annie's throat tightened at the thought of Elijah's answer. Was he in a relationship? Is what she's feeling pure delusion?
"Mr. B, I thought I had something special a few years back. Hadn't even thought about anything serious til' recently," Elijash's eyes locked on Annie's for a quick moment. So that she knew it was for her. He was telling her he felt it.
'Damn, is it hot? Am I imagining this shit? There's no way he talking about me? Drink some water girl, breathe.' Annie was holding her breath. Avoiding eye contact. "As if any girl would be dumb enough to settle down with you," everyone's eyes shot in Annie's direction. Except Elijah's. He wasn't moved by her digs cause his mind was already made up.
"Annalise, you teasing but you single too," Mrs. B shot in her direction. Feeling the mood break everyone laughed. Parents bantering about how they'll be in a grave before either of their kids get married. All 3 were annoyed with the pressure to settle down but glad that the tension was eased so quickly. As they finished their meals, Annie began clearing the table.
Elijah stood quickly, "I can help you." She rolled her eyes, "I got it." She disappeared into the kitchen. He quickly gathered the rest of the dishes while Mr. B ushered everyone into the living room.
-
Elijah entered the kitchen, setting the dishes in the sink, his arm brushing hers.
"I said I got it, Elijah," she glared at him. She hadn't forgotten about him grabbing her. Spewing what she thought was bullshit. "I heard what you said Lil Mama, just trying to help." God we using nicknames now?
"Good, you helped. Now can you get out the kitchen?" She eyed him up and down. Her eyes drifting to his lips then back to his eyes. Sharp and mean, she wasn't going to back down. Especially if he thought he could 'fix that'. Whatever the fuck that meant.
"Take me up on my offer first," he closed the space between them, pressing his body into hers hard. He bent his head down, sliding his lips over her neck. Her hand grabbing him to steady herself. How did they get so close so fast? Why did they feel so drunk off the energy? "Take me up on it and I'll make sure your mama got a grandkid," he snarled into her neck with a bite.
Annie's hands were now on his chest, trying to hold on for dear life. 'There's now way I'm about to let this nigga bend me up in my mama kitchen' she thought to herself. Her breathing ragged, she pushed him off her.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Her pupils blown. "You grabbing me and shit. Sucking on my neck like you done lost your damn mind. I ain't seen you in years Elijah. What the fuck you got going on?" Her chest rising and falling rapidly.
"I'm not gon say sorry for something we both want," his eyes certain and voice sure. "You're fucking drunk if you think, I want you," she snapped back at him.
"Annie, yo mama said-," Elias stopped taking in the tension in the room and the look in his brother's eyes. "Umm, Annie yo mama said to pull the pudding out the fridge for her. You good bro?" He asked Elijah. "Yeah I'm good bruh," Elijah never took his eyes off of her.
Once Elias left he didn't give her a chance to process it. His lips were on hers and she was moaning into this mouth.
Their tongues tangled, his hands slid down to her ass. Cupping her cheeks and pulling her against him harder. "Elijah-Jah, we should stop. We really-ahhh- shouldn't be doing this," her hands fisting his hair, pulling his lips tighter up against her neck. "You smell so good, your body is so soft," he muffled into her neck. Reluctantly he pulled away, holding a tight grip on her body.
"You're going to have to let me go," her breath heavy. She was stunned, there's no way this was happening. Elijah? Of all damn people, Elijah? No she had to get ahold of herself.
He released her and took a step back. His eyes trained on her. "I don't think I'll be able to stop Annie. I had a taste and by the end of tonight, I'm gon want the real thing."
God, this man was going to kill her by the time this dinner is over. "This can't happen and it won't. I'm not stupid, I know the games you and your slow ass brother play on women. I'm not one of them," her finger pointed right into his face.
He stepped closer, bending down into her ear again, "I would never play with you baby." Her eyes met his briefly before she started plating dessert for everyone. "You can go now." What she really didn't know is that this night was far from over.
-
Use it. Dont hurt yourself running. 228-195-3342.
As the dinner came to an end and everyone said their goodbye, Elijah slipped a piece of paper into her hand.
She quickly crumbled the paper in her hand, but she didn't throw it out. She hugged Mr. and Mrs. Moore goodbye. As the twins disappeared into separate cars, she watched him disappear down the road.
"Elijah sure done got fine didn't her," her mama teased.
"Oh please mama, he still that annoying little boy," she rolled her eyes.
Deep down, she needed whatever it was he gave her in the kitchen. Whatever that feeling was she wanted more of it. And whether she wanted to admit it or not, she was gon use that number tonight.
-
Elijah was still thinking about her. He couldn't stop. He should've got her number instead of giving his. It had only been an hour since he gave her the paper. He was pacing his apartment waiting for her to text. His phone buzzed and he damn near jumped out of his skin.
228-342-7789
Hi. It's Annie.
228-195-3342
You ain't gotta tell me who it is. I been waiting on you.
228-342-7789
I don't know why I texted you.
228-195-3342
I know why. So just tell me where you are, and I'll come get you.
228-342-7789
I'm still at my parents place.
228-195-3342
I'm on my way.
-
Was this a mistake? There was no taking back now. She freshened up and put on a pair of cotton shorts and a white tank top. She knew what she was going there for. She sprayed her favorite perfume on and applied her favorite lip gloss. She looked herself in the mirror and stood up straight. She wasn't going to back down.
Elijah
I'm outside.
The text came through her phone and a wave of nausea hit her. "Okay let's do this." She grabbed her bag and headed out.
-
The whole ride over, he was dead silent. He was on a mission. He freshened up and threw on a pair of gray sweats and a white tshirt. Put on his best cologne. He was ready to see her.
When she came out his eyes damn near fell out his head. She was trying her hardest to kill him. "You look good," he complimented her.
Her face flushed red as she climbed into his truck. "Thank you," Annie hid her face. She felt like a school girl, blushing over everything he said.
The ride back to his house was silent. The grip he had on her thigh the whole way had her clenching her thighs together and squirming in her seat. But she never told him to get off.
When they entered his house it was nice and neat. Black and white furniture with low lights.
"Nice place," Annie said.
"Thank you," he responded.
As they settled in the living room sitting on opposite ends of the couch, tension was still rising.
He spoke low and careful, "I see you used the number." She swallowed but snapped back, "I dont know why." Damn, that came out harsh.
His eyes were burning into hers. He was taking in her appearance. She wore this for him. Her nipples pressing hard against her tank top. Her thighs tightly pressed together. She put on a good face pretending though.
"Come here." It wasn't a question. He was telling her. Her body moved before she could even think about it. "I'm gon tell you how this bout to go Mama. You gon listen real good tonight, so I dont wreck you too bad your first time. You gon answer me 'Yes, Daddy' and you gon like it." She swallowed hard again. Her pussy was pulsing.
"You dont know me very well, Elijah. But I aint never been anybody toy. Let alone me calling you daddy." She smirked. A hand quickly wrapped around her throat. She moaned in response. Something about this man made her want to just give herself away.
"Yeah you feel that? I got control over your whole body right now," he growled into her ear. "We need a safe word incase something I do makes you uncomfortable." His hand was so tight around her throat, she thought she would cum from the pressure.
"Delta," she gasped. Her hands holding the one wrapped around his neck. "Good girl, now we can start. Open your legs for me baby," he whispered into her ear. Her legs parted revealing the seat of her shorts, soaked. His calloused hands trailed over her nipples pulling and twisting. Pulling her tank top down her titties spilled out of her shirt. Nipples hard and ready to be sucked. He wrapped his tongue around her hard peak, sucking and spitting on her nipples. She moaned, rocking back and forth on the couch, her pussy grasping at the air.
"Fuck," she whimpered. His hands traveled down to her wet pussy. Rubbing her through her pants, her body arched forward.
"You like the way I'm touching you?" He asked gruffly. Annied nodded her head with a soft moan. "No no no baby." He tightened his grip on her neck. "Whatchu' sposed to say?" Her body locked and then shuddered.
"Yes, Elijah," she was trying to hold on to what little dignity she had left.
"Nah, open that mouth up Mama. Tell me what I wanna hear," he growled in her ear.
"Yes, Daddy." She arched into his hand.
"Take these fucking pants off," he grownled in her ear. She stood quickly, yanking her shorts off. He yanked her bank down, her bottom half now exposed. Her scent radiating off her pulsing heat.
"Fuck, you smell so good," he said. His eyes were memorizing ever part of her naked sex. The way her pearl poked through her fat, wet pussy lips. The way her opening dripped and grasped at the air. He was hungry for her. His pupils were blown, his orbs a charcoal black.
He worked his way down onto his knees, fighting the urge to attach his lips to her fat clit. He took his time, kissing and sucking up her leg. Starting at her ankle he made love to the ligament sending her body into a frenzy. He stroked the inside of her thighs with his tongue. Slow, circular motions leaving a trail of saliva in his tongues wake.
"Fuckkkkkk, Daddy. That feels s-s-oooo good," she arched her body trying to get her entrance closer to his scorching tongue. He was driving her body up the fucking wall. Annie neeeded his mouth on her. Sucking and fucking her with that long, hot tongue. She was going to fucking combust. "Elijah, fucking please," she breathed out heavily.
"That's it baby, beg me for it. You see how good I make your body feel. How you react to me. The way that pussy grab on to nothing just wanting me." He was driving her crazy.
15 minutes later her feet were by her ears and Elijah was tongue deep, caressing her insides. Annie's hips bucked against his mouth. Globs of spit and her wetness mixing together.
He worked her hole as a warm creamy substance oozed out of her. "Fuckkkkkk, baby, shit," she wiggled under his mouth. He could feel her contracting around his tongue.
He maneuvered his head so that his tongue was dipping and retracing at a ridiculous angle.
Annie's hands slammed to her sides, bawled into a fist as she watched him tongue fuck her. She could feel the build up in her chest, she was going to cum.
"Ask me for it," his voice gruff and muffled from his consistent assault on her.
"Please," she wasnt too proud to beg. She needed the release. "Please, daddy. I'm begging you," she whimpered.
'Oh fuck am I about to squirt?' she thought to herself.
"There you go mama, gon head and give it to me." And man, did she. Annie exploded, her essence coating his beard and chest.
"FUCK BABY, I'M FUCKING CUMMING," she screamed. She could've woke the whole building.
He growled into her sex, "Give me that fucking pussy. Come all over my muhfuckin' face Annie."
She was losing her mind. The way he was talking and touching her was sending her spiraling.
When she came down, her chest was rising and falling rapidly. The room wasn't blurry anymore. She looked down and Elijah was looking at her like his whole world was in front of him.
"I'm not done with you Anais," he stated.
"I want you to take your ass into that bedroom and wait for me on all fours." Her body moved before her brain could process it. She was in for a very long night.
yall. i been writing this for like a whole fucking month. but i wanna get it out. yall know i love a part 2 when they get to fuckin🫣😂
anyway, feedback is always welcome.🩵 comments and requests as well!! 🤞🏽
summary: annie, assistant to CEO elijah moore, does everything she can to flaunt her body around the office. she shows skin; she bats her eyelashes; she talks real smooth—and her boss can't help but to notice. when things become too much, too heated, the pair give in, fucking like it's the only thing either of them have ever truly wanted—and maybe it is.
cw: power dynamic, office!sex, semi public!sex, cigar smoking, mentions of alcohol, use of the nword
a/n: i'm back!!!!! thank y'all for being so lovely and understanding. these last few months have been so hectic with graduating and everything, but now i'm free and i'm finna be overloading y'all with shit again :))))). this is inspired by this and this entire interaction (although the full context was in the tags)!! y’all better thank @partylikemajima! i had so much fun with thisss
masterlist
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Being the CEO of a Fortune 500 company has always been Elijah Moore’s goal in life. He wanted the security of having his position. He wanted the comfortability of knowing how his days would look, being the head and not the tail of a company he and his brother built from the ground up.
He and Elias, the company’s COO, got into the telecommunications business just as the industry began to boom before the recession hit. It gave them cushion during difficult times, and now the company has blossomed into something great. With over 75 million wireless subscribers, an average yearly revenue of $125 million, and 5G coverage over 37% of US land, Elijah was proud of what they’d built together.
Times like this always made him feel reflective and grateful.
The company’s anniversary was coming up in just a few weeks—20 years of Moore Mobile. What once was a figment of his imagination has become a sturdy and ethical business model that provides internet service to some of the most rural areas of the US while taking care of its employees internally.
Elijah stood by the floor to ceiling windows in his office, contemplating over everything: his accomplishments, the work piling up, the celebration in a few weeks, the yearly bonus to his employees. There seemed to not be enough time in the day, but he was grateful for all of it anyway. No matter how fast paced and busy life got, he was still thankful for it.
Across the room, the door rushed open. In a flash of light it seemed, the man’s assistant rounded the side of his desk, sitting down his coffee and even more reports for him to look over. But he couldn’t be annoyed by the delivery because the sight of the woman always eased his mind.
Annie Laveau was hired by his brother in an attempt to get the older twin to calm the hell down. Work had become too much and too hectic for him to not have an assistant any longer; He always preferred to do his work alone, but it wasn't working for him anymore. He'd become way too uptight and way too angry. So Elias joked about hiring the sexiest woman either of them had ever seen to help relieve his stress; And when she showed up for her first day of work, Elijah couldn’t help but to agree.
The woman was beyond sexy.
She had plump dark skin that contrasted well with every outfit she wore. She had thin-rimmed glasses that highlighted the size of her eyes. And her body—man, her body. Every time she walked into his office, Elijah found himself having to clench his jaw or his fists to hold himself together. She was thick all over. The outfits she wore—sometimes too tight at the waist, sometimes too tight at the thighs—made him want to combust.
But it was when she wore low-cut shirts that he really fought to compose himself.
Annie was blessed beyond recognition, and her titties showcased that. Half of the time, Elijah would be daydreaming about laying his head there when he got overwhelmed by work. He'd think about laying his tongue flat against her nipples until she was cumming from the simple stimulation alone. And sometimes he’d even imagine putting other things there, forcing her on her knees, prying her bra off her body, and dragging his thick di—
“Mr. Moore,” Annie grumbled, and by the tension in her tone, she’d been trying to obtain his attention for a while. The man scrambled to his seat, grabbing the cup of coffee and downing a few gulps to get his bearings back. Clearing his throat and forcing his eyes to land anywhere other than her low-cut sweater, Elijah spoke.
“I apologize for that, Ms. Laveau,” he reconciled gruffly. “I was in my own head," he made the excuse, hoping to God she didn't ask what he'd been thinking about. Her gaze turned to a look of amuse as he coughed from embarrassment before speaking again. "How are the reports?”
The woman cleared her throat, rolling her eyes as she tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. She wore a high bun today, something that Elijah imagined himself grabbing ahold to with force. As her hand reached to push her glasses up the bridge of her nose, the man’s eyes darted to her chest like always, captivated and enthralled.
“They look like what we’ve been wantin',” she replied easily, standing at the edge of his desk. She remained professional as always, making sure he was completely caught up on everything. As she shifted her weight to her other leg, Elijah couldn't help but to notice the way her chest jiggled from the impact. “We’re hittin' all our targets on time, and the team is keepin' morale high ahead of the company's anniversary.”
“Good, good,” Elijah spoke slowly, looking up at her with his head tilted back against his chair. His hands crossed at the bottom of his torso as he fought to keep calm. It was the only thing holding himself together. All he wanted was to bend her over his desk. To rip her sweater to pieces since she dared to wear something so revealing. To spank her ass and fuck her titties because there was no way she didn't want this too. But Elijah just continued along like the professional man he was, finding a way to usher her out of the room before he couldn't handle his emotions any longer. “Is there anything else,” he wondered aloud with a raised eyebrow.
He watched the woman look over her notes, crossing off things with a blue pen before her eyes perked up in recognition.
“Yes, actually,” Annie announced, dragging her body closer to him. She invaded his space with ease, setting a stack of papers directly in front of him. “There are a few preparations needed for the party. I’ve taken the liberty to extend invitations to all of our partners and past sponsors. We’ve gotten RSVPs from five and are still waitin' on the others. I also need you to decide what party favors you want…”
Elijah could hardly focus on the words coming out of her mouth. Not when she kept pushing those glasses up her nose. Not when her freshly painted nails were pointing out things on the paper. Not when her breasts were on full display and only inches away from his waiting mouth.
It was like this every time she was in his midst. He'd fall off somewhere into a daydream about fucking her over his desk or in the elevator where the risk of being caught added to the heat between them. He wanted her in the worst way, and it was getting harder to ignore it.
On top of being sexy as all get out, Annie was also just an excellent employee. She always made sure his office was ready for him before he got there—window shades open to bring in the sunlight, coffee sitting at the perfect temperature atop his desk. She was always efficient in her work, priding herself on being thorough and precise above all else. And she even went above and beyond to help others with their work and meeting their target goals.
She was a CEO's dream in every facet, and every day he was thankful to his brother for convincing him that she is what he needed.
When he tuned back into her words, Annie was still standing over his shoulder, smelling good and looking even better. Her voice—professional with an air of Creole flair—sent shivers down his spine.
“So, like I said,” she continued, leaning in so close that the scent of her perfume became one with his skin, “I need you to look over these potential vendors for the party. I would ask the financial department, but I know you like to keep a close eye on the money side of things.”
Elijah nodded along to each word, jaw slacking from how good she smelled and how silky her voice sounded against his ear.
“I'll do whatever you need me to,” the man whispered, fighting himself as he bypassed her titties, which were at eye level now, to look her in the eyes. Annie smiled widely down at the man, straightening her posture as she prepared to leave his office.
“Good,” she remarked, tone dipping low and provocative as she hung onto that one syllable. She maintained their eye contact, and the longer their eyes remained on each other, the more her smile turned from polite to something arguably close to seductive. Her back straightened fully, forcing his head to travel higher as she stood above him once again, and Annie let her eyes trail down the front of his body. She took all of him in, head tilting to the side faintly as she hummed in approval before clearing her throat.
Turning sharply on her heels upon meeting his gaze once more, Annie strode over to the office door. Her steps were long, thighs rubbing against each other in her tight pencil skirt, hips switching because she just knew he was looking.
Elijah was convinced that the woman was doing it all on purpose. He had no proof, but he had a feeling. And his gut intuition had never steered him wrong. There was always something in the way she smiled and let her voice croon too confidently. It was something in the way she'd maintain eye contact long enough to force heat to his cheeks and how her blouses revealed just a small bit of her lace bras when she'd move too quickly. It felt intentional in every way.
“I will see you later, Mr. Moore,” the woman announced with a grin. She opened the door, closing it behind her without even giving him time to respond.
Elijah sat back in his chair, body thrumming from having Annie so close to him. He could still feel her, could taste her in the air even. But she wasn’t there. Her last words rung in his ears—Mr. Moore. He loved the way she said it, but he couldn’t stop himself from craving to hear her moaning his first name.
Annie Laveau was unlike any woman he’d experienced before, and something about the way she treated him—getting him all riled up before leaving him with nothing but his own two hands—made his body run hot with desperate need. A need to subdue her. A need to please her. A need to punish her. The longer he thought about it and imagined the woman in various positions all over his office, the more his body responded with blood rushing to below his belt, an attempt to aid his wild mind.
Elijah didn’t fight it.
This had become routine by now: Annie would come in with her body on full display, Elijah would drift off into his mind with unprofessional thoughts about her, and when she’d leave, he’d get himself off to the lingering essence of her in the room.
Elijah’s eyes darted over at the analog clock, debating whether he'd have enough time to do what he needed. It wouldn’t take him long, not with the way her ass jiggled when she walked out his door. The only person who would dare to interrupt him during the work day was Annie, but she told him that she'd be back later. So without further hesitation, the man undid his belt buckle, pulling his pants and briefs far enough down that he could fist his dick without anything in his way.
“Fuck,” he grunted, face screwing up as his right hand firmly gripped his arousal. The ten minutes Annie had been in his office had made him feral for more of her. His mind was so vivid and fresh with desire that he could convince himself that his hand was her titties, dick sliding against them perfectly. With each thrust of his hips, he imagined her with a wide smile—tongue sticking out to swipe at his throbbing tip. With each squeeze of his palm, he imagined Annie pressing her titties closer together, making the hold tighter and the friction more abrupt.
He envisioned her moaning his name, coaxing him to his finish with soft mutters of Elijah off her tongue. The thought was glorious and holy—exactly what he needed to complete a hard day of work.
Elijah’s hips sped up to an uneven pace, chasing a feeling only Annie could give—whether she knew it or not.
~~~~~
Elijah Moore was correct in assuming Annie was doing it all on purpose. From the moment she stepped foot inside his office on the first day, she had the man pinned as someone who needed that release on the daily—a man she could toy with and make cum just by being the pretty little thing that brought him coffee and read off numbers like she owned them.
She quietly adored her effect on him, how he could never keep his eyes off of her for too long, how his mind went blank in the middle of conversations about important things. More than anything, she adored that she could tell he could ruin her, but he wouldn't allow himself to. He'd just watch her day by day, pressure building up until he had to make himself cum to the thought of her.
Annie would be stupid to not realize what Elijah did after she left his office. His usually tense yet stoic demeanor would be replaced with a calm and relaxed version of the man she’d grown to know. Within a thirty minute span of time, he’d be a completely different person just because of an orgasm. It was like magic—a feeling she hoped to give his body with her own two hands someday soon.
So with that in mind, the woman showed up every day with her low-cut blouses—because that’s what Elijah seemed to adore most. She’d lean in real close—because that’s when his nostrils would flare at the scent of her skin. She’d bend over real slow when she’d drop something just before departing his office—because she could feel his eyes glued to her ass. And she’d speak his name real clear and proud—because she wanted him to know that she liked the taste of it on her tongue.
Annie moved about the building, checking in with coworkers, printing off reports, refilling her cup of coffee so that her mind was reenergized for the work to come. There was a lot to be done ahead of the company’s 20th anniversary, and she was not going to leave a single rock unturned.
She sat at her desk filing away a few papers, eyes dragging over headers and recipient names as she sipped her coffee with an unbothered flair. Her office wall was fully glass, outlooking the rest of the department, and like always, everyone fought to contain how mesmerized her ease made them. The entire building, from the ground floor to the top, knew the name of Annie Laveau.
She was known openly as the sexy, intelligent woman who got work done like it was the simplest thing ever. People were quick to notice her beauty to the point of mass appeal, but they remained captivated by her personality—tantalizing, alluring, and magnetic.
More than anything though, she was known as one of two people in the entire building that Elijah Moore could stand. His brother was one, and she was the other.
In the middle of her work, a shy, timid knock on the door frame caused Annie's eyes to shift up. She was instantly met with an intern from the financial department. His movements were nervous. His voice was quiet. And his eyes were low, trying to keep himself from choking at the woman's intimidating yet seductive energy.
“H-hi, Ms. Laveau," he stuttered out, fumbling with the items in his hands. "I—I have these reports to give Mr. Moore about the yearly bonuses," he held papers up, shaking slightly as she met his gaze. Annie smiled, forcing him to stutter further. "But—but I, um, I didn’t want to bother him. Could you give these to him...possibly?”
The woman stood on solid feet, taking a deep breath as she closed her laptop. This was a normal part of her job. Everyone was so intimidated by Elijah Moore that they'd rather interrupt her day, stuttering foolishly, instead of going to him themselves. It was always interesting to her how even when they were intimidated by her, they'd rather meet her acquaintance than his. It made her chest warm knowing that everyone in the building could tell the impact she had on the man.
"I've got it, sweetheart," Annie's voice crooned as she moved toward the door. Hand open for the papers, she smiled at the intern before saying her goodbyes and well wishes.
She was immediately brought back to her earlier thoughts—how she knew for a fact that the man couldn’t stop himself from relieving the ache she gave him. As Annie turned toward the end of the hall, a sly grin erupted on her face. With each step she took, she was envisioning what sight she'd be met with. Mr. Moore in the heat of ecstasy. Mr. Moore moaning her name. Mr. Moore with his dick in his hands and her on his mind.
The thought of it was filthy, but she loved it. She loved it enough that when she got outside of his office door at the end of the hall, completely separated from the rest of the office space, she turned the doorknob without knocking.
She walked in without announcing herself.
And she smiled.
Real filthy.
"Oh, shit," Elijah exclaimed as he noticed her standing there, door half way open but her body completely in the room. He rushed to pull his briefs and pants back up over his waist, muttering apologies so frantically that he didn't even notice the way she closed the door behind her. He was fumbling so badly that he didn't even notice the way she walked slowly toward his desk, steps measured and confident. Head high and tilted to the side as she looked down at the tent in his pants.
"Mr. Moore," she tsked, making her voice cold yet amused as she indulged in his mortified gaze. She looked down through her glasses, and her eyes darkened at the way his softened at the sound of his name. "I brought these for you," she announced, laying the papers on his desk. "But, I guess you're busy."
"I—I apologize," he began, words coming out raw as his hands scrambled across the desk to reach for anything, eyes refusing to look at her any longer. He hoped to God that she hadn’t heard him moaning her name, full and without restraint. He'd been in the middle of a heated affair as he tried his best the calm his ache. "I ain’t think anyone was comin' in," he continued to apologize profusely. Shame was settling into his bones. He'd been foolish, and now he was forced to reckon with his actions.
But Annie just eyed him with a dark expression, mind running wild with scenarios as she watched the way he twitched in his pants. Her lack of response was making his body churn with more embarrassment than needed, and when he finally met her gaze again, his breath stopped.
Annie was leaned in real close, titties close to his face as she moved to sit atop his desk directly in front of him.
"You need help with that," she questioned, throwing him a gaze toward the seat of his pants.
The simplicity of it made his body lean forward just slightly. He wanted to cave under her. To have her ruin him and to ruin her back. The thought of it sounded like exactly the thing he needed. Before she came in, he'd been having the hardest time getting there. His hands weren't doing it for him, and all he seemed to want was Annie.
Elijah swallowed his pride as he noticed the genuine look of desire in her eyes. Without being able to formulate any excuse against it, his eyes clouded over as he nodded in response. His mouth had run too dry for words, but Annie understood each one of his needy movements. He clawed at the arms of his chair. He settled his legs nice and wide so that she could see him with ease.
Annie fought against the grin that wanted to crawl onto her face. Never had she wanted a man more than she wanted her boss, and after months of flaunting herself around the office, she was finally getting what she craved.
She straddled his lap quickly, engulfing him once again with her scent. They'd never been as close to him as she was now, and the warmth they created made their heads spin. Annie's skirt slid up her thighs with the assistance of Elijah’s hands, and without pushing their desire aside any further, they engulfed each other in an abrupt kiss.
Months spent with Annie provoking him had their bodies ready to commit to each other without much thought needed. The air in the office had turn from embarrassment to curiosity to straight pleasure as the woman fumbled with the man's pants. His hands traveled up under her skirt, tugging at the waistband of her panties just to get a feel of the material.
Elijah's pants were pulled back down to his ankles by the time they gave themselves a break from kissing, and Annie immediately settled onto her knees in front of his chair.
"I been waitin' to get you like this, Mr. Moore" the woman admitted, breathing calmly against his flushed skin as she took her time trailing her eyes over his body. She smirked at the way his chest rose and fell in a fast rhythm. She reveled at the way he fought himself to just take her completely. Her own body was humming in need, so desperate that her only wish was to have the man cumming back to back without pause.
Looking down at her, Elijah's eyes were blown, and his head threatened to fall back against his chair.
"Ain't been waitin' longer than I have," he grunted, fisting her bun and pulling her eyes up to his. With his hand holding her close and her hands traveling up and down his length in slow strokes, Elijah guided her lips slowly toward his dick. His tongue darted out to wet his lips at the way she opened her mouth to welcome him boastfully. A moan rumbled at the back of his throat from the way she looked up at him through her glasses.
Annie kissed him smoothly, mouth cooling off his skin with each press of her plush lips to his arousal. The groan he let out at the minimal contact was obscene, too dirty for an office setting where anyone could walk past the doors, but as he watched her tongue begin to lap up his precum, the possibility of getting caught made his heart beat fast with want.
"You taste so damn good," Annie groaned as she swallowed every bit of him that she could get. The feeling of her breath against his skin and the vibration of her vocal cords had his body tensing up. It pulled chuckles from the back of her throat, and she smiled against him. "You so sweet," she whimpered, grinding her knees into floor to ready herself as she took him completely down her throat.
She wasted no more time. The desperate look he wore had her moving at full speed. She finally got to have him the way she wanted, to give his body the pleasure they both needed just as much as they needed air. It didn't matter to her that they were in the middle of an office building and that he was moaning her name like they were in a bedroom. If anyone heard, it was on them; If anyone heard, they'd know just how much Elijah Moore was hers.
The look on the man's face said that he didn't know what to do with the overwhelming amounts of pleasure. He didn't know where to put his hands. He didn't know how to quiet his voice. He didn't know whether or not to thrust his hips in time with her head. Elijah had had so many fantasies about this very moment, but he didn’t know the appropriate way to move forward now that he was in it.
It all felt too good—beyond anything he could have ever imagined or anything he'd had before.
But Elijah was in his head.
He was enjoying the surface level feeling and the knowledge that Annie was the one giving it to him, but he couldn't get past the mental block that keep popping up in his mind.
What if she don't wanna work for me after this, he thought in his head, eyebrows furrowing as he gripped at the arms of his chair. His body tensed up, worry surrounding him for her wellbeing. What if she feels weird about this? What if she feel like she gotta do this ‘cause I’m her boss?
He tried to push that last thought away. Annie was clearly enjoying herself. Her eyes were closed. Cheeks were flushed. Hands grabbing at him and her own self as pleasure ran from his body and through hers.
But he was still lost in his mind.
Annie opened her eyes when the man went quiet, confusion etching into her face and his tense posture and silent demeanor. He'd just been moaning, loud and unrelenting, but now he wasn't making a sound. She continued her pursuit, providing him pleasure that had his body shaking, but she looked up to ensure he was still enjoying himself. When she gazed into his eyes, he was already watching at her, quiet and observant.
They were both trying to read each other. Elijah was trying to make sure she wanted to be fucking him. Annie was trying to make sure he wanted her to be fucking him.
The woman pulled away, halting her movements as she tasked herself with making sure he was ok. But Elijah's right hand went to her cheek before she could open her mouth, holding her steady as they melted into each other's gaze. The connection was too raw for a place of work, but there was no mistaking that there was something honest and needy between them. For months it had been brewing, and they couldn't deny the intensity of it.
Annie decided to break the ice, opening her mouth to ask how he felt, but almost as if the universe was punishing them, Elijah's office phone rang loudly.
Neither of them spoke or moved.
They weren't ready for the bubble to be bursted.
They remained still, clinging onto the seconds together, trying to regain their bearings as Elijah's hands smoothed Annie's hair and as she ran her palm down his calf.
The phone stopped ringing.
Then it blared again.
"Goddamn it," Elijah groaned, moving his eyes to the phone and recognizing the caller ID as one of the company's department heads. He pulled his pants and briefs up, shooting Annie an apologetic look before answering the call. "Elijah Moore speakin'," he grumbled into the phone.
Annie sighed heavily, sinking back onto her calves as she looked up at him. Her chest was still heaving from the hurried nature of her earlier assault. She waited as patiently as possible, knowing he was a man of his work. Her hands sat atop her thighs, glasses framing her face and breasts standing at attention like always. He looked at her, breathing through the heat that still rushed through his system.
"Yes," he mumbled, clearly annoyed. "No, I sent Ms. Laveau to run errands," he looked toward her as the person on the phone mentioned they’d called her office phone without getting an answer. "Mhm," she watched him nod. Elijah reached over toward his computer then as he let out an aggressive huff. "Y'all couldn't handle this yourselves," he wondered aloud, typing quickly. He sent Annie a look that said he was sorry, eyes softening, eyebrows low as he watched the disappointment settle on her face.
She tried not to let it sink too deep; It was unlike the persona she maintained at work, so she smiled at him, using his thighs to assist her in getting off the floor. She pulled her skirt down to an appropriate, office length, and she leaned into his body, landing a kiss to the side of his neck.
Elijah’s breath caught for a moment, wanting so badly to end the call and get back to what he'd been doing. Now that he was successfully interrupted, he realized how stupid his earlier worries had been. Annie obviously wanted him as bad as he wanted her, and he'd allowed his mind to get him caught up. She planted another kiss to his ear, lingering there just to pull a groan from his throat. He successfully played it off, grinning up at her slightly and returning to his phone call. His voice was rough and tight was frustration.
All he wanted was her.
Annie walked out of his office the way she always did: with the knowledge that he was watching. Her hips rolled slowly, legs long and confident; And just before she opened the door, she fixed her bun, pushed her glasses up her nose, and sent him a tempting look over her shoulder.
"Hopefully you'll get to cum soon, Mr. Moore," she whispered, giggling at how she could see how blown his eyes were from afar.
~~~~~
Weeks passed of Elijah and Annie pretending like nothing had happened. They hadn't done it completely on purpose. The call the man received in the middle of their affair had thrusted them both into a shit load of work in order to prepare for the 20th anniversary.
From then on, it had been long meetings and longer hours, trying to make sure everything was in order from the catering for the celebration to the employee bonuses. It had been an arduous process that left them little room to think and even less room for pleasure.
But the day was finally here:
The 20th anniversary party.
Annie walked into the venue with her head high and on a swivel as she checked over table arrangements and name placements. She wasn’t going to let one thing go wrong tonight. The food was going to be amazing. The drinks were going to be delicious. The music was going to be superb.
She wanted to anticipate every possible outcome, so she made sure to run through every worse case scenario.
If there was an issue with the DJ's music, it was all saved to a thumb drive. If there was an issue with the sound system, there was a live band in the front of the venue just in case.
If there was an incident with the food, the catering company was told to make twice what was expected.
She was serious about every part of her job. She'd booked the venue for two days before the event and two days after so they could decorate and clean up at their leisure. The party favors had been brought over the night before instead of the day of so it was less of a hassle. She had things planned to the tea: when the twins would arrive, when speeches would start, when the venue would turn into the club that the younger brother yearned for.
As she walked the edge of the large room, eyes darting across the various workers moving about the space, Annie smiled to herself, feeling accomplished. She bathed in all of her hard work, but she wasn't ready to let herself rest yet.
She looked down at her watch, clipboard resting in her left hand, a walkie-talkie in her right. Just ten minutes before showtime, she thought. Forcing herself to breath, Annie leaned against a table and shut her eyes for two seconds.
Her body was beginning to shiver at the possibilities the night brought. This would be her first real chance to breathe after all the work she put in to make the night happen, and at the front of her mind was Elijah Moore—the man who for some reason refused to give her brain a break.
Annie had been thinking about him more consistently since that day in his office, getting lost in day dreams when she should've been working. She wanted to finish what they had started, and somewhere in her body lingered with the feeling of his hand holding her face as she looked up at him, softer than she ever thought he could be.
It was dangerous—a connection that probably shouldn't be formed, but she didn't care enough to cut things off or to stop herself from craving him the way she needed.
When Elijah arrived at the venue, his heart was pounding in his chest. He had high hopes that the night would go well and that people would have good fun, but that wasn't his main concern. His sole worry was that if he looked at Annie for too long he'd end up bending her ass over a bathroom sink or against a hallway wall.
As cool and reserved as he had tried to portray himself to be, the man had been shutting down ever since her mouth was on his dick and he was unable to get what he wanted. He had fantasies about her lips against his skin, and he sent up prayers for the opportunity to have her again.
No matter how much he tried to relieve his own need, his hands were nothing compared to the woman's. He could still envision that smirk on her face—the way she dragged her tongue along his tip, the way she looked over her shoulder before leaving him to his phone call.
For weeks, as they worked in close quarters, he couldn't stop himself from glancing over at her and imagining taking her the way he wanted. She still wore tight skirts, and those ungodly low-cut shirts had his blood pressure rising to the point of absolute worry.
He was shoulder to shoulder with his twin as they entered the foyer of the venue. Both brothers looked like complete copies of each other besides Elijah's scowl and Elias' sly grin. They both wore their signature colors in similar suits. The younger one had suggested it, going so far as to find Elijah’s attire because he needed them both looking sharp for their big night.
Elias being the COO meant he was usually the face of things. Their employees were familiar with him, comfortable joking around and telling him things they needed around the office. He ensured operations ran smoothly by encouraging the staff. Elijah being the CEO meant events like this were the only times people really interacted with him on a personal level. Besides the fact that he was naturally quiet, he was normally in his office with Annie on his mind.
"You ready to see her," the younger twin cackled, looking at the way his brother's jaw twitched, eyebrows shooting up less than a millimeter. Elijah didn't even have to tell Elias what had happened between him and Annie. When he saw him later that day, Elijah was more tense than usual, barking orders in a way he had given up since the woman became his assistant and eased some of his high strung tendencies. And when Elias schemingly brought Annie's name into the conversation, Elijah immediately reacted: His jaw worked—like it was doing now; His eyebrows moved slightly—like they always did when Annie was the topic of conversation.
Elias had laughed at his brother then, finding it humorous, but if anyone understood the older twin, it was him.
"Calm down, nigga," he soothed, patting him on the shoulder as they walked through the main interior doors. "We gon' have a good night, and you gon' get yo' freak on or whatever."
Applause erupted as the crowd saw the pair entering. Elias smiled brightly. Elijah nodded his head at familiar faces, but his eyes were looking for one person. The room was dense with people—employees, partners, sponsors—but he only cared about finding Annie.
The crowd fanned out as Elias joined them, and that's when he finally saw her.
Annie stood near the front of the venue, hair down and in wide-swooping curls that he wanted to run his hands through, deep blue dress molded to her body like it was made for her alone, head down as she analyzed her clipboard like she was in the middle of an office and not at a party for all of the company's hard work—which included hers.
The way his favorite color hugged her curves made the man want to tear it from her body, and he found himself fighting to take a deep breath as he crossed the room to stand before her.
"You look beautiful, Ms. Laveau," he cleared his throat, startling her slightly and making her turn to him fully. Like always, the woman’s chest was barely covered; Her cleavage was far more bold in this setting. Out of the office, she took the time to make sure everything from her plush breasts to her sharp collarbone was dusted in a light layer of glitter. It attracted the man’s gaze successfully as he wondered whether that was something that required being rubbed into her skin.
His mind slipped away as he imagined Annie: wearing nothing but a sheer bra and panties, squirting glittery lotion into her delicate palms, and rubbing it into her skin with a soft moan at the feeling of it hitting her body.
He wanted so badly to touch her, to squeeze her softness, to lick that glitter off her chest, but he pushed it away, convincing himself briefly that he could behave for a few hours. Clearing his throat, shifting his stance, and straightening his tie, Elijah tore his gaze away for her body.
When their eyes met, Elijah's worries came back at full force. It felt like they were the only ones in the room, back in his office and on the verge of something reckless. He could see flashes of a few weeks ago in his head, and Annie could too.
She was just better at hiding her need.
Annie took in his attire after stepping the slightest bit closer. Elijah wore a royal blue, three-piece suit, a color similar to her dress. Every inch of it fit his body perfectly, fabric falling over his muscles like water.
"Thank you," she spoke confidently, raising her head up to meet his eyes as she straightened her posture. "You look good yourself," she complimented, biting her bottom lip as the man flexed his muscles involuntarily.
"You did a wonderful job with everything," he pointed around the room but only looking into her eyes. It was true though. Annie had ensured that every part of the event was the way it was. Everything ran through her before final approval, and they were standing within the fruits of her labor. Elijah pointed next to her hands filled with things. "You off the clock right now," he commented, tone definitive, "so you can put that clipboard and walkie-talkie away."
"I'm just makin' sure everything is in order," the woman rolled her eyes, pulling the clipboard back as he attempted to reach for it. A small smile lifted the corner of his mouth, but she saw it. It was uncharacteristic but appreciated.
"Yea, sure,” he huffed in amusement with a roll of his eyes. He nodded slowly, bringing his attention back to her body in a way that made her knees feel weak. He started to walk away and into the crowd, throwing a comment her way first. “Just make sure you leave some room for a li’l fun later.”
After thirty minutes of making sure things remained in order and as she had intended them to be, Annie decided to listen to her boss’s comments. She wanted to have a good night. She wanted fun, and that’s why her eyes kept dragging over to where the man stood.
Elijah was near the open bar, nursing a glass of whiskey as he talked numbers with someone who was hoping to do business. His arm was propped against the bartop. His posture was loose for a change, inviting but only in a way Annie could notice. He faced her, almost as if he wanted her to have her eyes on him.
And Annie waited with patience, sipping on her own glass of wine as one of her coworkers ranted about something she didn't care much about. Something about the holidays or some new lunch spot she wanted to try next week. Every now and then, Annie would hum to show she was trying her best to listen, but Elijah had all of her attention.
He was right there. So close yet so far.
She just needed him to finish his chat. To acknowledge her in some way. To meet her gaze across the room.
And her wishes were finally granted as the man departed from the bar.
His eyes locked on hers immediately, tuning everyone else out and commanding her to follow him without having to say a word. He slipped out into a random hallway, stride slow and quiet because no one was paying attention to him anyway. He moved with purpose, knowing she'd answer his call, knowing she wouldn't be able to resist.
The hallway was dark. Too dark.
Annie could barely see a thing at first. She was worried that she’d taken a wrong turn—maybe he hadn’t slipped back here—but then she saw the flicker of a lighter near the back wall of the hallway. Her eyes finally adjusted to the dark as she walked toward the burning embers of the man’s cigar.
Her dress dragged against the soft carpeting under her feet, cushioning her too eager steps.
“Glad you finally let yourself stop workin’,” he growled, deep brown eyes meeting hers. The low tone of his voice warmed just beneath her skin. “Thought I was gon’ have to drag you back here myself,” he commented with a huff. Annie chuckled, holding the man’s gaze with an earned confidence.
She’d be lying if she said she didn’t enjoy the image of that in her mind: Elijah throwing her over his shoulder and muttering punishing words into her ear.
“I go where I want to, Mr. Moore,” she resigned otherwise, her tantalizing professionalism swirling around the two of them. The truth behind her words caused him to laugh deep in his gut.
He stepped forward, pushing off of the wall where he’d found home.
“Glad to know you want this like I do,” he admitted, voice cracking with a sweetness he wasn’t used to yet, but he didn’t back away from it. He let the heavy honestly settle in the air. He took a pull off his cigar, turning his head away from the woman as he exhaled. “What a hit?” The question was intimate. The hallway was dense with smoke, curling around their mix of lust and truth.
Annie brought the cigar to her face. She wrapped her glossed lips around it, staining the dark brown tobacco leaf in a way Elijah found beautiful and sexy all at once. Inhaling, she maintained their eye contact. She didn’t waver. Barely blinked. And as she exhaled, she did it right in his face.
“We gon’ fuck in this hallway or not, Mr. Moore,” she asked before taking another pull. Her nails looked too good holding the cigar. Her lips wrapped too easily around it. Elijah’s body heated quickly with desire as she continued to speak, her eyes lowering as the smoke warmed her from the inside. “‘Cause I been waitin’ too long to have you in my mouth again.” She giggled at the flash in his eyes. Stepping closer, her chest pushing against his, Annie moved to put the cigar on the tray in his hand. “I think I want my bonus in the form of your body against mine, sir.”
That was all the man needed to hear before he was moving fast, sitting the ashing cigar and tray on the floor, turning her around, and pushing her chest into the wall.
“The way you move around my office like you own it,” he commented gruffly, fumbling with the fabric of her dress as he engulfed her neck with kisses, “you been doin’ that shit on purpose?” He didn’t need an answer. The clarity came from the way her ass pushed against his pelvis, searching for his swollen dick beneath the fabric.
“Always,” she giggled, looking at him over her shoulder. She tugged her bottom lip between her teeth teasingly. His hands were on her ass under the dress, tugging at her panties, but there was still restraint between his eyebrows. “We don’t have long,” she reminded, turning her body just the slightest bit away from the wall. The shift was small, but it had a grand effect on the energy in the lust-clouded hallway.
Annie’s chest flashed at her boss, glittered titties shining in his eyes. He couldn’t help himself but to fall in line with what her body was screaming. He wasn’t drifting into a daydream any longer because his fantasy was playing out right in his midst.
Baring his teeth, Elijah turned the woman to face him forcefully, causing a gust of air to escape Annie’s lungs as she giggled. He shoved the top of her dress down, pulling the thin sleeves over her shoulders along with her bra straps.
“Elijah,” she gasped, holding the back of the man’s head as he dove into her chest, tasting every bit of her dark skin. He growled uncontrollably at how the taste of her and the sound of his first name sent a litany of pleasure through his body.
All he wanted was to hear her moan his name, to fuck her titties and have her crying out for more.
He sucked her nipples like it was his job, and he’d just clocked in. He started fast, overtaken by greed from the way the glitter dazzled in his eyes, but as he slowed down, he realized he could pull more moans and whimpers from her.
He dragged his tongue over her left nipple, holding her breasts up to his mouth, pushing her back into the wall, and hunching over to get his fill. Annie shivered each time Elijah breathed real deep, crying out for more, hips fighting to stay still. One hand remained behind his head, holding his neck as her fingers toyed with his hair, nails scratching along his skin. The other hand held one of her titties up to his greedy mouth, feeding him.
Annie’s boss looked up into her eyes as he sucked hard. His pupils were large, eyes wet as he devoured her like she was his first meal in days. If you’d told her months ago that she’d end up in the position, it would take some real convincing for her to believe it.
Elijah Moore was demure. Quiet. Reserved.
But there in the hallway—where anyone could see—he was anything but that.
Here, he was ravenous. Loud with his groans of praise. Liberated as he swallowed the honeyed taste of her.
His eyes darkened as she moaned his name again, and he halted his greedy mouth.
“I’m gettin’ what I want this time around,” he demanded, looking into her eyes as his rough hands remained tethered to her chest. His tone was dense. Cadence slow and shattering.
The feeling of his thumbs working over her swollen, wet peaks did just as much to her body as his mouth had. Annie’s head landed against the wall at the slower pace of it all. Her chest heaved from her enjoyment.
“Mr. Moore,” she moaned, fingers tangling in the lapels of his suit.
“What you want from me, Ms. Laveau,” he grumbled against her pulse point, voice dipping into a chuckle he didn’t fight to let out. He rested his head against her shoulder, breathing in her scent, feeling her heart thump hard inside her body.
“I want you to stop actin’ like we have all night,” she fought, pulling him impossibly closer. She looked down at her watch, rolling her eyes at the face of it. “Speeches start in thirty minutes,” she added, remembering her strict itinerary for the event, “and I need you to not look like you been face deep in my dress.”
“So bossy,” he laughed deeply, pulling his hands away from her breasts. His gaze met hers again, and laughing at the serious face she wore, Elijah began to drag her dress up over her thighs.
“You know I like efficiency,” she remarked, breath picking up as his rough fingers met newly freed skin.
“Even in this,” he questioned, throwing her a look she didn’t know how to answer to just yet. "Even here?" She’d be lying if she said yes. If she said no, it wouldn’t be completely true either. She liked things done with order—logical, precise, and practical. She knew the risks associated with fucking her boss. It wasn’t practical, and it made no sense, but she wanted it anyway. She was also well aware of where they were: in the middle of a dark hallway with her chest exposed at the company’s anniversary party. It wasn’t logical, but she couldn’t fight the need to give in.
She just wanted her boss to give her whatever he wanted—however he wanted. Anything beyond that was none of her concern.
Instead of telling the truth of what she felt, Annie pulled the man into a kiss. Her nails clawed at his jaw, her fingertips dented his dimples. The pair moved violent and erratic, grabbing at each other like they were scared the other would disappear.
Elijah successfully brought the woman’s dress up her body, settling it at her hips as he struggled with his own pants. The sound of his belt buckle reverberated through the hallway, making the woman gasp against his mouth before he even managed to pull himself out of his pants.
“Ain’t even got the chance to feel you yet, and I already know you finna wreck my mind,” her boss cooed against her skin. His voice had turned into something sweet that neither of them could deny any longer.
Annie’s arms wrapped around his shoulders, bringing his head back to her neck as he stroked his dick and breathed her in. He needed to settle his heart before he ended up falling into her harder than he expected he would. They had developed something too close, too sweet, but there was no turning back now.
Annie pulled her panties to the side, hooking one leg up over Elijah’s thigh as he began to tease her folds.
“Shit,” she breathed, holding on as they both shivered. “You got me so wet.”
“Mhm,” he nodded into her.
The man sank in little by little. The first inch caught them both off guard. The pressure was intense but the feeling of them connecting—raw and passionate—made them press forward for more.
Annie’s head stayed glued to the wall, face toward the ceiling as Elijah set a steady pace—not too quick, and nowhere near too slow. He took her through there, groaning in her ear about how good she felt, about how he wanted as much of her as she wanted to give.
“You feelin’ good,” he asked, wanting to double check, always wanting to ensure she was ok.
“Yes, sir,” she cried, beginning to rock against his body, meeting him thrust for thrust.
Her warmth was making him feel dizzy. The way she hiccuped with each stroke made him go harder. The CEO brought his attention back to her chest, seeking out any opportunity to give her the most pleasure possible.
“God,” Annie groaned, watching as the man returned to his post, mouth on her stiff peaks, eyes on hers. “Just like that, Elijah,” she encouraged. His stroke quickened, and he grumbled from deep in his throat. Annie’s nails were back in his hair, tugging him the slightest bit away so she could see his eyes better. So she could see his tongue work.
“Say that shit again,” he demanded, hands on her ass and pulling her down onto him.
“Elijah, baby,” she whimpered, finding it hard to keep up the eye contact. She felt exposed in a way she could only experience him. The feeling of his eyes on her in the office is what she felt now, but absolute ruin was added into the equation. She moaned his name like it was the only word she knew, and he responded with a faster pace.
They didn’t have long.
People would notice them gone.
Elias was probably looking around the room in search of his brother.
But they tuned all those thoughts out.
The only thing that mattered was each other. The way Annie was moaning. The way Elijah’s eyebrows were scrunched up as he devoured her body.
His hips snapped, following the higher pitch in her voice. Their limbs were tangled, bodies desperate for the other.
When the woman’s climax approached, it was quick, forcing her back to arch into him and her hips to stop the rutting she’d been doing. Elijah listened, easing her through it as his own body fought to hang on.
When they came, they came together. Annie was quiet, face locked up in her pleasure, eyes screwed shut. Unable to move, speak, or moan, Annie allowed the effects to wash over her, delight melting into her skin. Elijah was the opposite. Where Annie was quiet, he was loud, moaning without restriction because it just felt that damn good. Where Annie was still, Elijah was unable to stop moving, pelvis still rocking into hers as he brought both of them down from the high.
The hallway returned to quiet, the sounds of laughter and music from the main room of the venue wafted around them. They were both stilled, Elijah still tucked inside of her as they breathed each other in.
It was a feeling neither of them were used to, a calm they hadn't expected to feel. Not like this. Not tangled together against a wall. Not at a party for a company they both belonged to. Not as a boss and his assistant.
They took it all in. Quietly.
Then when it was time, Annie was the first to speak.
"We should be gettin' back," she murmured unconvincingly. Her hands still clung to his broad shoulders, not ready to let go but knowing it was inevitable. "You have to do your speech soon," the assistant reminded, forcing a groan from Elijah. His face was rested in her neck. His lips were pressed against her pulse. He had no intention of moving, but he knew it was necessary.
They parted with a sharp hiss. Annie's hip ached from where her leg had been hoisted up over his, and the emptiness she felt made her crave more of him already. Adjusting himself, Elijah watched as Annie fixed her dress, pulling a compact from her handbag to fix her makeup.
“I wanna see that glitter on you in the office from now on,” he decided, leaving no room for objection. Annie grinned slyly, looking up at the man through her eyelashes.
“You won’t end up gettin’ any work done, Mr. Moore,” she attested, knowing how much truth was in her words. Her breath caught as the man moved to stand in front of her. His hands wrapped around her waist, pulling her flush against him. The way he easily made her flustered pissed her off, but she let it happen anyway, face heating up below the surface as he looked over her body like he couldn't wait to ruin her again.
He spoke low, the vow crawling up the back of his throat, coaxing a moan from the back of Annie's. It was definitive, a tone the CEO reserved only for business.
And Annie was his now.
“I’m tryna put work in another way,” he insisted, and Annie just nodded, biting her bottom lip to remind herself that they had somewhere to be.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
a/n: 9,500 words! i hope y'all enjoyedddd! talk to me!
Summary: Modern AU - A lonely widow found herself drawn to the silent power of one of the construction foremen working across the street, unaware that he’d been watching her right back.
For fanfic contest winner @lizbehave Also, someone on here stated they were interested in reading a lonely!annie x construction worker!smoke vibe going on, so I just incorporated it!! :)
Annie wasn’t a bored or neglected housewife. She was a widow, four and a half years out from losing the man she loved. She rebuilt her life piece by piece, and now she yearned for thrilling intimacy.
She buried all of that smoldering desire right in the ground with her husband.
She hasn’t been kissed since. She hasn’t been held or touched by anyone in almost five years. Her friends kept encouraging her to “get back out there,” but Annie stopped entertaining ideas like that years ago. She wasn’t lonely out of helplessness, more so out of habit.
That was until Smoke showed up.
This wasn’t some random fling either. It was the first spark she’s felt in damn near half a decade, and it scared the hell out of her.
Still, she watched him from her living room window. Not because she was reckless or unhappy but because she was surprised her body was capable of craving a man’s touch again.
Annie never meant to start watching the construction crew. At least not at first.
For the first few weeks, the noise alone was enough to put her on edge. The rumble of trucks, the metal-on-metal clatter, and the constant echo of unfamiliar voices in a neighborhood that had been too quiet for too long.
Four and a half years. That was how long the house had felt like a museum after her husband passed. Everything was still, untouched, and preserved in a way that made the silence feel sacred yet unbearable.
She kept herself busy and remained polite to the neighbors. She kept herself busy, but inevitably she missed being touched, kissed, and desired. The intimacy of it all is what she needed.
She sealed those doors shut and thought they would never open again, but then the construction crew arrived. He arrived. A man she heard them call Smoke. A broad-shouldered foreman, low-cut fade, work boots, and a voice that carried across the street even when he wasn’t trying. The kind of man you couldn’t help but notice.
Annie didn’t mean to notice him. She willed herself not to, but she hadn’t felt her pulse skip like that in years. She hadn’t looked at anyone with curiosity in practically five years.
Watching him became an accident first that turned into a habit and then into a secret.
She would stand at the kitchen window with her raspberry leaf tea, pretending to study the weather, the mail truck, or the neighbor’s Great Dane when she was really observing Smoke. The way his eyes crinkled when he laughed, his calloused hands, the way he carried lumber with ease, and especially the way he wiped sweat from the back of his neck with slow, effortless confidence.
Annie felt silly. Ridiculously restless and alive in a way that made her feel guilty and hopeful at the same time. Her chest ached with it like thawing after a long winter.
One morning, while she rinsed dishes just to occupy her trembling hands, she made the mistake of looking again. She caught him mid-break, leaning against the truck, sunlight cutting across his shoulders.
And this time, he was already looking at her. Not the typical glance but a direct, deliberate, slow sweep of his eyes from her window to her face. He wouldn’t look away, so Annie went still, breath caught somewhere between her lungs and throat.
Smoke's lips curved into a knowing smile as he dipped his head in a slight nod, as though he had been waiting for her to look back at him.
Annie’s heart didn’t just skip this time; it woke up.
Annie almost didn’t answer the knock.
She was in the middle of forcing herself not to look out the window again, telling her heart it was just nerves and curiosity. Nothing is as dangerous as interest.
But the knock came again, firmer this time, shaking the quiet house that had been hers alone for four years and change.
She wiped her hands on her sweater and opened the door. Smoke stood on her porch. Up close, he was even taller than he looked from the window, shoulders broad beneath a worn white t-shirt, safety vest unzipped, boots speckled with dried earth.
“Afternoon,” he said, voice deep enough to hum across her skin.
Annie’s breath stuttered slightly, but it was enough for him to catch, and he lifted a brow.
“Sorry to bother you, ma’am. We got some utility questions—water line, maybe electrical. Lotta old houses on this block, yours included.”
It wasn’t rude or even flirty. It was just…direct. Like he didn’t have the patience for anything halfway.
Annie nodded and stepped aside.
“Oh—yes, um. Come in. Let me…let me see if I can find the paperwork my husband—”
Her voice caught, not so much in a dramatic way but enough for the sentence to break like a thin stick.
Smoke’s eyes flicked up sharp, noticing the slight change in her body language.
“Your husband,” he echoed gently. “He around?”
“No,” Annie said softly. “He…passed. A while ago.”
Smoke straightened a fraction, the subtle way men do when they adjust their energy out of respect. His voice shifted, the edge smoothing into something warmer. “My condolences.”
“Thank you.” Annie nodded. “It’s been four and a half years. I’m…managing.”
Smoke nodded once, not out of pity, but acknowledgment. He was no stranger to death.
“Still,” he murmured. “That kind of thing don’t ever get easy.”
She swallowed. “No. It don’t.”
A reverent beat passed before he stepped inside. His presence filled the hallway instantly, grounding and heavy. Annie became acutely aware of her fuzzy socks, her unkempt coils, and the way her heartbeat sped up with each step he took.
Smoke glanced around, observing. “You here by yourself most days?” he asked, his tone seemingly casual, but she knew better.
“Yes,” she answered before she could think of a polite deflection. “It’s just me now.”
Smoke hummed low in his chest. “Mmhmm. I figured.”
She blinked. “…Figured?”
He met her eyes finally, kobicha on cafe noir, and there was no teasing or arrogance in his gaze, no playful smirk like the one he tossed at her from the street.
“You got that quiet look about you,” he said softly. “The kind folks get when the house stay empty too long.”
Something in Annie’s throat tightened unexpectedly, but before she could respond, he walked farther in, boots thudding lightly on the hardwood, tool bag dropping beside his foot.
“Show me wherever you keep the paperwork,” he said gently. “I’ll handle the rest.”
His tone wasn’t commanding, yet she still felt like it wasn’t optional either. In an odd way, it made her feel safe.
Annie nodded and led him toward the kitchen. She reached for the high drawer where her husband once kept every manual and warranty, but her hand trembled.
Smoke’s voice came from right behind her. “You okay?”
He was so close that she froze. He wasn’t touching her, but he was close enough that she felt the heat of him and the weight of his attention.
“I’m fine,” she assured. “Just…old memories.”
Smoke exhaled through his nose, slow and steady. “Ain’t nothing wrong with that.”
She looked back at him and steadily held her gaze in a reserved way that strong men do when they decide you deserve it. With a faint smirk that shouldn’t have made her pulse trip the way it did, he added, “Besides…you got new memories to make now.”
Her thighs clenched involuntarily, and she bit down on her tongue to stifle the desperate noise that almost escaped.
Smoke followed her into the kitchen with that slow, heavy-footed walk of a man who never had to do too much to command a room. Annie could still feel him behind her. Especially the warmth from the weight of his attention as she sifted through the drawer for the utility folder.
She found it, pulled it out, and set it on the counter, fingers tapping across it. Smoke didn’t reach for it. He reached for her instead, stepping close enough that she felt the faint puffs of his breath against the side of her neck.
“You always this jumpy?”
Annie’s fingers tightened on the folder. “I ain't jumpy,” she lied.
“Mmhmm.” He leaned a hip into the counter, arms crossing over his chest. “Funny, ’Cause you stay flinchin’ every time I get close by you.”
She turned to glare at him, but the second she faced him fully, she made the mistake of looking into eyes too observant to fool. He studied her face for a few seconds, then his curious eyes dropped to her mouth, then to the hollow of her throat, then right back to her eyes, like he’d mapped the whole thing in one breath.
Annie swallowed hard, and Smoke’s lips curved at her tell.
“There it go,” he acknowledged. “That look you get.”
“What look?”
He tilted his head, amusement flickering in his gaze. “The window look.”
Her stomach dropped. “What—what do you mean?”
“Nah, don’t be shy now.” He let out a low laugh. “You been watchin’ me since the first day we pulled up.”
Annie’s entire body went still. Oop, she was caught. Her fault for not being subtle.
Smoke stepped closer, slow enough to give her time to back away if she wanted, and she didn’t.
“You think I don’t see you?” he continued, voice dipping warm and deep. “Kitchen light on every morning. Curtains just barely pulled back. You stand in the same spot, acting like you just makin’ tea.”
Her cheeks burned, blush hidden by her cocoa-colored skin.
“And I been letting you watch,” he admitted softly, “’Cause I like the way you look at me.”
That sentence knocked all the air out of her chest.
Smoke reached into his back pocket, pulled out a small black notebook, the kind foremen keep for measurements and supply lists. He flipped it open with one hand. “Since you like lookin’ so much…let’s make sure it leads to something.”
He clicked his pen, set the notebook on the counter, and slid it toward her. Annie just stared at it.
“Write,” he instructed.
“…Write what?”
“Three things.” He explained, his voice unhurried. “Three fantasies. Whatever’s been sittin’ in that pretty head while you watch me work.”
She inhaled sharply, willing herself not to panic. “I—I don’t—Smoke, I can’t just—”
“Yes, you can,” he said simply. “And you will.”
Her pulse fluttered. “You being—”
“Direct,” he finished. “Not pushy. Just finally answerin’ the call your body been makin’ for weeks now.”
She opened her mouth to deny it, lips closing when he leaned in, nose grazing her cheek teasingly.
“Annie,” he sighed deeply, voice like gravel and heat. “I know want when I see it. You ain’t hidin’ nothin’ from me, woman.”
Her knees damn near gave out, giving SWV a run for their money right in her kitchen.
Smoke nodded toward the notebook again. “Three fantasies,” he repeated softly. “You write ’em down, and I’ll stop by on Friday.”
Her eyes widened. “W-Why Friday?”
He smirked. “’Cause that’s the first day I’m free long enough to make one of ’em come true.”
Annie’s breath hitched so sharply she almost choked on it.
Smoke’s fingers brushed her wrist lightly, barely there, but enough to center her. “Look at me.”
She did. He held her gaze with quiet certainty, no pressure, no rush, just a man giving her a choice she didn’t expect to want that badly.
“If you don’t want this, baby,” he said, voice gentle and firm, “Tell me now. I’ll walk out that door, fix what needs fixin’, and you’ll never feel me cross a line.”
Annie lowered her eyes to the notebook, blinking rapidly at the three lines he numbered neatly.
“Don’t censor yourself,” he encouraged. “I ain’t scared of what you want.”
She believed him, and the pen grazed the page. The first fantasy came out shaky. The second, a little bolder. The third…she hesitated.
Smoke stepped closer; his chest grazed her back. “You stuck?”
Annie nodded once.
Smoke leaned in, his voice a comforting rumble in her ear. “Last one’s always the truth,” he said. “The one you ain’t never told nobody. The one you think you shouldn’t want.”
She sighed deeply and nodded again.
“Write that, baby.”
Her hand moved before her brain caught up, blue ink scratching softly against paper.
When she finished the third, she stared at the notebook like it might burst into flames. Then, slowly, she folded the page over twice, palms damp, the words suddenly too real, too intimate, too exposed.
Smoke held out his hand. “Give it here.”
She swallowed and placed the folded paper into his palm. Her fingertips brushed calloused skin, warm and rough, and a jolt of heat shot up her arm.
He didn’t move to open it yet. Instead, he slipped the paper into the chest pocket of his vest, tapping it once with two fingers. “I’ll read it later.”
Annie blinked. “…Later?”
Smoke nodded, lips curving into a wicked little half-smile. “You ain’t ready to watch my face while I read it.”
Finally, she whispered as her nerves eased. “…Friday?”
He couldn’t help but grin. “Friday.”
He grabbed his tool bag, flung it over his shoulder, and paused in the kitchen doorway. His gaze drifted to his pocket, where her folded fantasy lay.
“I got a feelin’ number three gonna be something I always wanted to try too.”
Smoke walked to the front door, and the cool late afternoon air rushed in when he opened it. He gave one last look at her, eyes warm, voice low and commanding. “Lock up behind me, Annie.”
Then he made his exit, leaving her breathless as her mind raced, and she knew that somewhere on his walk back across the street, he touched his pocket again, just to make sure the paper was still there.
The folded paper sat heavy in Smoke’s vest pocket all morning. He’d felt it there through every task. Through measurements, shouted instructions, the scrape of metal, and the grind of machinery. It was ridiculous, really. A single piece of paper shouldn’t have been able to pull his focus like that…but it did. Because Annie wrote it.
Despite the anticipation, Smoke waited until his lunch break to read it. He leaned against the side of the truck, pulled off his gloves, and finally slipped the paper free. He unfolded it carefully, smoothing the creases with his thumb like the words deserved patience.
The first line made his mouth twitch. The second made his jaw tighten, and the third line made him still. Brown eyes darkening with desire and blood rushing too fast to his dick, he had to take a steadying breath.
His eyes tracked the line once, twice and even a third time to make sure he was reading it correctly. A slow breath left him through his nose; the corner of his mouth lifted despite himself.
“Oh,” he chuckled quietly. “So that’s what we doin’ first.”
“Do what first?”
Smoke didn’t even look up as Bo leaned against the next truck over, hard hat tilted back, eyes sharp and curious. He’d worked with Smoke long enough to know something was different.
“You been smilin’ all day,” Bo said. “You never smile at work. You barely crack a smile at birthdays.”
Smoke folded the paper back up, slid it into his pocket like it was something precious, then reached for his water bottle.
“Mind your business, Chow,” he said calmly.
Bo squinted at him. “Nah, see, now it’s my business. You smiling, you quiet, you ain’t cussed anybody out yet. Something’s wrong.”
Smoke took a longer drink, eyes fixed on the street across the way, on Annie’s house, still and quiet in the distance.
“Nothing’s wrong,” he assured. “Something’s just… planned.”
Bo followed his gaze, looked at the house, and then back at Smoke.
“Oh,” Bo muttered slowly. “That house.”
Smoke shot him a look, and Bo raised both hands. “Say less. I see how you be staring. I just ain’t know she was the reason you finally decided to be pleasant.”
Smoke scoffed. “Pleasant is a stretch, Chow.”
Bo grinned. “So what she got you smilin’ like that for?”
Smoke adjusted his vest, fingers brushing the pocket again, voice dropping just a notch. “She finally told me what she wants.”
Bo raised both eyebrows. “And?”
Smoke's lips curled into a smug grin. “And I know exactly how I’m gonna give it to her.”
Bo chuckled as he shook his head. “Man, you dangerous.”
Smoke didn’t deny it. He never did.
The lunch horn sounded off loudly and sharply, so Smoke pushed himself off the truck and put on his gloves, mentally rearranging his Friday plans.
Bo called after him, “Hey! You comin’ back all calm and smilin’ like this, I’m tellin’ HR you in love.”
Smoke didn’t look back. “Tell HR to mind they business too.” As he walked back to work, he tapped his pocket once more just to make sure the paper was still there. Friday was already decided, and Annie didn’t even know what she was in for.
— Friday afternoon —
Annie had been pacing for ten minutes. She’d checked the clock twice and the window once, then told herself to stop hovering like an inexperienced teenager waiting on a crush. Still, when the firm knock came, her heart jumped like it recognized the sound before her brain could catch up.
She opened the door, and Smoke stood there like he’d always belonged on her porch. Unwrinkled white tank top, work boots, vest slung over one shoulder, clean fingernails, determination in his posture, and no uncertainty in his eyes. Just calm anticipation and that same soothing presence that had followed her since the first time he caught her watching.
“Hi,” she greeted warmly.
He didn’t smile right away, just looked at her and assessed her microexpressions, then nodded once.
“Hey,” he said calmly. “I’m here for the throat training.”
Annie laughed in surprise. She had no idea he would pick the third option. Her thighs clenched, and her mouth opened and then closed. Then she laughed again, a soft, breathless noise of nervousness.
“You—you can’t just say that at my door.”
Smoke’s lips finally curved, small and knowing.
“Why not?” he asked. “You wrote it. And I’m down for it.”
Heat rushed up her neck and all the way to her cheeks.
He stepped inside without crowding but close enough to feel. The door clicked shut behind him, sealing the quiet house around them.
Smoke locked the door before he set his vest down carefully, like he was already moving with intention.
“Before we get started,” he said, voice lowering, “we gonna talk.”
“Okay,” she whispered.
Smoke turned fully toward her now, hands relaxed at his sides, expression serious in a way that made her feel safe instead of nervous.
“I read what you wrote,” he continued. “All of it. And I chose throat training ’cause I know what it really means.”
Her pulse fluttered, but she didn’t interrupt.
“It ain’t about impressing me,” he said quietly. “It’s about trust. Control. You lettin’ go because you safe to do so.”
She swallowed around the nervous lump in her throat and nodded.
Smoke stepped closer. “You okay with me leadin’?” he asked. “You okay with me correctin’ you if I need to?” “And you okay with me takin’ care of you after, no matter how far we go?”
Her voice came out steadier than they both expected. “Yes.”
“You pick a safe word?”
“Yes. It’s bayou.”
He nodded in agreement. “Bayou.”
He fired off more rules. “Since your mouth gon’ be preoccupied, you need to use your fingers and tap me anywhere. Twice to slow down and three times to stop completely. Okay?”
He watched her face closely, searching for hesitation. There wasn’t any just heated anticipation.
“And Annie,” he added softly, “Don’t hide from me. You puttin’ all your trust in me, and I promise you won’t regret it.”
She met his eyes. “I trust you.”
Something warm settled in his gaze. A mix of approval, pride, and protectiveness.
“Good,” he affirmed. “Then we on the same page.”
Smoke watched her for a long second after she uttered those three words.
I trust you.
The conviction and absolute surrender in her voice shifted something in him. It changed his certainty into hunger. The kind that settled in the chest and stayed.
Without warning, he finally closed the distance. One hand came up to her jaw, firm and sure, thumb pressing just beneath her chin as he kissed her deep, stealing the breath right out of her lungs like he’d been waiting all week to do exactly that. There was no more hesitation. No more permission being asked.
Her knees buckled and her fingers clutched at his t-shirt as her heart raced and sweet heat bloomed between her thighs.
When he finally pulled back, he pressed his close forehead to hers, breath warm and voice deep with arousal.
“Mmhmm,” he said quietly. “You mine now.”
She inhaled sharply at his claim.
“Mine to cherish,” he continued, thumb brushing her lower lip deliberately. “And mine to ruin.”
The words landed like a spark to dry tinder. She didn’t feel owned. She felt chosen. Seen. Desired. Smoke awakened something in her she hadn’t been since before grief taught her how deep numbness can dig.
Smoke straightened just enough to offer his hand again, this time with a promise in his eyes instead of a question. “Come on, Annie,” he encouraged softly. “I got you.”
She took his hand, and the nerves disappeared with each step they took upstairs.
Once they stepped into her bedroom, Smoke shut the door.
He stared at her while he removed his boots and socks. “Clothes off.”
She removed her shirt and bra, then her shorts and panties, revealing her busty chest and voluptuous figure.
He made a small sound of approval. “Beautiful.” All the blood rushed to Smoke’s dick, bringing him to full hardness.
Once she was fully bare, he gave another command. “On your knees.”
She dropped to her knees on her bedroom floor and settled her palms against her thick thighs.
He stepped closer until he was in front of her. “Good girl.”
The praise not only warmed her chest but also grounded her. It made her feel alive.
Slowly he began to remove the rest of his clothes. He started with his white tee, revealing a toned chest and abs out of this world. Annie bit her lip. He unbuckled his belt and pulled his pants down along with his briefs, kicking them aside. Annie couldn’t help but gasp at his impressive size. Her mouth watered hungrily, and the anticipation turned sharper.
He cupped her face as he bent over. “You comfortable?”
She nuzzled into his hands, soft lips brushing his wrist with a light kiss, “Yes, Smoke.”
“Good,” he hummed approvingly as he straightened up. “Get it nice and wet.”
Annie nodded in response, extending her neck to catch the tip of Smoke’s dick. Smoke adjusted his stance, bending his knees slightly so she didn’t have to strain her neck as much and nudging the head of his dick against her bottom lip before gently pressing past her lips. She instantly sealed her lips around Smoke’s dick, the tight suction causing him to close his eyes, tip his head back, and release a deep groan. He stayed there for a bit and allowed her to explore his length and adjust to his girth.
Smoke hissed as he began to thrust forward until half of his dick was encased in wet heat. Annie took it with relative ease; Smoke couldn’t even tell she hadn’t given head in years. Still the voluptuous woman struggled a bit with the man's girth. Smoke pushed further until the crown of his dick hit the back of her mouth, causing Annie to gag just the tiniest bit.
“There you go,” he encouraged sweetly. “Think you can take me deeper?”
She nodded, eyes glinting with excitement and unshed tears.
He chuckled softly, “You sure? You already gagging, baby.”
Too eager to please Smoke and showcase her skills, Annie bobbed her head faster as if her true calling on earth was to suck the stress out of Smoke’s body right through his dick as fast as she could.
“Fuuuck…” The surprised sound ripped out of him, guttural and borderline desperate. His hand slid into her hair, fingers gripping her curls as he fucked her face, slowly at first, but when he searched her face for signs of discomfort, he only found hunger and satisfaction, so he sped up his pace. “Look how pretty you look swallowing my dick.”
The closer his tip reached the back of her throat the more instructions and praises fell from his lips.
“Breathe through your nose, baby.”
“That’s it.”
“You doing so good, Annie.”
Every few minutes his eyes flicked between her face and hands, making sure her fingers were nowhere near safe wording and that she was comfortable. One hand was settled against her thigh, and the other was braced against his knee, completely locked in as she took him deeper down her throat, drool pooling at the sides of her mouth, breaths coming in shorter and sharper.
“Relax your jaw just a little bit more. Let me in.”
“Mmhmm. There you go.”
“You doing exactly what I said. Good girl.”
His control was slipping fast. “Fuck—listen to those pretty sounds. You like choking on my dick, don’t you?”
She nodded as hot tears spilled from her eyes and spit dripped down her chin, grip tightening on his knee.
“Look at you being a star pupil,” he praised, thumbs swiping the tears from her cheeks. “Those pretty lips refusing to let my dick go. Such a good. fuckin’. girl.”
Annie hummed around him, hollowing her cheeks, watching the way his eyes squeezed shut and his chest heaved. Every time he moaned a praise, she took him deeper, pushing him closer to the edge.
“Oh shit,” he blurted, inhaling sharply as he felt his orgasm approaching. “Stop, stop. I don’t wanna come yet.” He quickly pulled out of her mouth and stroked his spit-glistening dick while he yanked her up with his free hand, not ever bothering to wipe away the drool before pulling her into a sloppy kiss.
She wrapped her arms around his neck and tilted her head to deepen the kiss, tongue swirling against his.
He broke the kiss and gripped her chin, making her look up into his eyes. “You were so good for me. You did such a good job, baby.”
She beamed at him, chest swelling with pride and satisfaction. Before she could thank him, he released her chin and gently pushed her down onto the bed.
“Lay back and spread your legs for me.” He instructed as he kneeled at the foot of the bed, grip loose around her ankles.
Before she could settle comfortably against the duvet, his mouth closed around her clit. Tongue hot, wet, and relentless as it flicked and swirled like he’d been starved for weeks, like he’d been dreaming of the exact taste.
Her back arched, and a cry spilled out before she could catch it. “Sm—Smoke—”
He groaned against her, the vibration surging through every nerve. His hands pinned her thighs open as his tongue plunged into her entrance, lapping at the wetness.
“Shit—oh my god,” she gasped, clutching at the sheets, her whole body trembling.
He pulled back just long enough to growl, full lips glistening with her slick, “Good girl…you taste so good, Annie.”
Then he dove back in, his tongue circling her throbbing clit with maddening precision, his name on her lips turning into broken moans. The pressure built fast, almost unbearably so.
“Smoke—fuck, I’m—”
He moaned into her, skilled tongue applying more pressure, and the orgasm ripped through her. She jerked, her body convulsing as a pleasurable scream tore out of her throat. He continued to lick her through it, grip tightening on her thighs while she thrashed against the bed and whimpered his name over and over. He placed a tender kiss against her sensitive clit once her breathing eased.
He climbed up the bed, slotting himself in between her legs, muttering filthy praises against her lips as he kissed her hungrily. She moaned at the sweet taste of her wetness on his tongue and deepened the kiss.
He lined himself up and sank into her carefully, teeth gritting at her tight warmth. She broke the kiss and gasped, the pressure deeper than she remembered.
His forehead dropped to hers, and he cursed, “Shit—every time I think I’m back in control here, you go unraveling me.”
Her nails dragged down his muscled back. “Smoke—oh my—”
“Say it again,” he demanded, taking slower breaths as he began to fuck her deep and sharp.
“Smoke!” she repeated, moans growing louder with each thrust. She knew her throat would be raw and voice hoarse in the morning, but she didn’t care. She was living in the present.
He shuddered, lips crashing to hers again as the room filled with the wet slap of skin and sounds of pleasure.
“I can feel that tight pussy stretching. Open up for me, baby.”
“So good, Smoke,” she gasped, clutching his giant arms and spreading her legs wider to grant him better access.
“Such a good fuckin’ girl,” he cooed, eyes following the cream dripping down his length. “You got my dick soaked. You claimin’ me with that wet-ass pussy?”
“Yes, yes, yes,” she rasped.
“Mmhmm.”
“You feel so good inside me, Smoke.”
“Yeah? You like the way I fuck you?”
“Mmm, I love the way you fuck me,” she emphasized, pretty brown eyes glazed over with lust. “Please don’t stop, Smoke.”
“Goddamn, baby. Keep talkin’ like that and see what happen.”
The sound of skin meeting skin rang louder, and her cries mixed with his groans.
“Fuuuck—Annie,” he growled, voice cracking, “you feel too fuckin’ good.”
Her fingers tugged at the sheets, hips rolling up to meet every thrust. “Smoke—yes—don’t stop. I—I’m gonna come.”
His grip tightened on her hips, pulling her into him harder and faster until they were both huffing and puffing like they’d been ripped apart and stitched back together all at once.
“Be my good girl and come on this dick.”
Her orgasm built faster this time, her moans pitching higher while his groans got rougher, both of them teetering right at the edge, but he wasn’t coming until she climaxed again.
“Smoke—”
“Annie—”
“I—I—Oh my—“
“Mmhmm, I feel it,” he grunted, his snapping sharper and sharper. “Show me how good you can be with that come.”
The second orgasm hit Annie like a lightning strike, violent and consuming. Her body seized, and her moans of bliss followed. Smoke couldn’t get enough of how responsive her body was.
“Good girl. So goddamn pretty when you come on this dick.”
“I want you to come, Smoke.” she managed to get the words out in between sharp breaths.
“Yeah?”
“Mmhmm.”
He pulled out and helped her up. “On your knees.”
She sat back on her legs as he stood up on the bed. She didn’t even hesitate as she gripped the base of his dick and took the tip between her lips.
“Fuck yes,” he hissed as he cupped the back of her head, “Make me come.”
Smoke let out a curse, which escalated into an intense growl as Annie stroked his length with both hands, sucking hard and fast, determined to push him over the edge. She took him as far as she could, bobbing her head up and down, her hands alternating between stroking his length and massaging his balls.
“Fuckfuckfuck—I’m about to come,” he warned as he held her head in place and shot his load down her throat. She never took her eyes off of him as she swallowed every drop he gave her. He cursed as she licked the sensitive tip, and he pulled away from her, admiring her passionately for a few seconds before dropping to his knees and tilting them both back against the pillows.
The room returned to its hushed atmosphere. Not the kind of silence that felt empty but the kind that was thick with shared breath and the echo of what had just happened. Annie lay back against the pillows, chest rising and falling, limbs loose, and body humming like it had finally been allowed to rest.
Smoke was just as blissed out beside her. He shifted onto his side and reached for her without urgency, palm warm as it settled against her stomach like he was anchoring her to the bed and to him. His thumb traced slow, absent circles against her soft skin as he checked in quietly. “You still with me?”
She smiled without opening her eyes. “Yes. I’m here.”
“Good,” he exhaled slowly. “You scared me for a second.”
“You?” she asked softly as she turned toward him. “Scared?”
Smoke huffed a low laugh, shaking his head. “I came in here thinkin’ I was the one in control.” His gaze dropped to her lips and then back up to her eyes. “Didn’t expect you to get under my skin like that.”
Annie traced the muscle of Smoke's forearm with her fingertips. “You kept checkin’ on me,” she recalled. “Even when I didn’t ask.”
“Yeah,” he admitted. “Guess that wasn’t just for you.”
They lay there for a moment, breaths syncing without effort.
“You did good,” he praised, prouder than ever. “You trusted me.”
She swallowed, emotion tightening her throat, and pressed her forehead into his chest. Smoke wrapped his arms around her immediately; one hand cradled the back of her head, the other steady at her back as he rocked them slightly.
“Breathe, baby,” he instructed automatically, like it was habit now. “I got you.”
She obeyed. It was practically second nature now.
“You okay everywhere?” he questioned. “Any soreness at all?”
“I feel…alive,” she confessed. “And safe.”
Smoke’s expression was a mix of pride and relief. “That’s good, baby,” he acknowledged. “That’s exactly how this was supposed to end.”
Later, when the sun began to set and Smoke rose to leave, Annie didn't feel empty the way she did whenever the door closed. She stood at the bedroom window, watching him cross the street, just like she always did, but this time her reflection smiled back at her, eyes bright, heart full, and mind cognizant. For the first time in four and a half years, the silence did not evoke feelings of grief. It finally felt like there was enough room for something fresh to grow.
A free 10 hour visual novel with high production value can be downloaded here! As a treat! It's name? The original "Women of Xal"! What does it offer to those who don't know or do not like/care about visual novels?!
Over 50 characters of color, most of them women
12 romanceable characters, half of them women
Gay subtext? Nay, gay text. It's just text. Straights are minorities
That last sentence was a coincidence, I swear--
A political mystery drama with heavy emphasis on character analysis
You can, canonically, date multiple people at the same time!
Your relationships will be referenced by other characters you are flirting with or are in a relationship with!
So many choices and branching paths that you will never have the same exact experience twice unless you're absolutely trying to.
Voice acting from talented folks like Sean Chiplock, Suzie Yeung, Natalie Van Sistine, and Anairis Quinones
The game was finished before 2021 ended, so you know the insane amount of images and music (hundreds if not in the thousands) were painstakingly handmade, and had ZERO AI.
Oh god the game has a dark story the game has a dark story the game has a dark story the game has a dark story.
Ahem! Images! ^ =^
See? 10 hours of free quality content! Totally worth clicking the aforementioned link and playing a free quality experience! Yes, it leads to the sequel's active campaign first, but that's just for people who want to see the game's story concluded. Everyone else can simply just click on to the itch.io page to download the game absolutely for free until January 14th! And if you already played the first game, the sequel has a brand spanking new demo out!
I'm a writer, folks. I miss having people talk about my stories and their favorite characters and moments. It makes my job at Walmart so much more bearable. I would love a new generation of fans that are excited for the game and its sequel . __.
Main Blog: @zillasvilla
.warnings.: none
.summary.: After quitting her job, She must find another one or figure out how to live out her dream of being a Soldier's Wife.
.pairing.: Terry Richmond x plus!size Black!OC
Hilton D. Brown wasn’t just a library for those with common card access, it was a safe haven, a place for her to truly be herself despite her shy, reserved nature. As a childcare worker, she would spend her days off in the library browsing books, or using one of the many available study rooms to focus on her writing. It was her home away from home. She found solace amongst the shelves, where the quiet hum of pages turning provided a welcomed contrast to the constant hustle and bustle of a daycare. Visiting the library had become a constant in her routine, never straying unless she was sick or working too late. She loved having the job of working with kids, and being able to decompress in the quiet sanctuary of the library.
But her time with CYS had come to an abrupt end. The lack of management support towards staff and two unruly children who needed more help than she or the center could give led her to quitting after a possible threat to her freedom and a much needed talk with her sister.
“You don’t want them to find any reason to pin this on you and make it seem like it was your fault. They gave you a warning. Do what you think is right for you.” Her sister explains.
The talk led her to sending a text to management after clocking out and fully sitting on it in the car ride home. Quitting took a large weight off her shoulders, but was soon replaced with the anxiety of finding another job. She had spent the next few months, at home, mostly job searching, but getting back into her hobbies of writing, reading and crocheting a few new pieces to sell on her Etsy shop. She picked up a few odd jobs here and there, but ultimately her bills were starting to fall behind and she refused to ask for help.
“Have you checked USAJobs for any openings?” Her mom asks. She was on the phone with her while going to the Publix to pick up a few snacks and needed essentials. She sifted through the bags of salad mix, wondering which one to get while biting her lip.
“Yeah, but nothing piques my interest.”
“It’s not about if it piques your interest. You need a job. Find something and apply.” Her mother scolds.
“Bye ma.” She hung up before she could respond. She would get chewed out about it later, but she wasn’t in the mood to hear her mothers lectures.
What she really needed and wanted was to not have to work at all, she wanted to be loved enough to where someone wants to take care of her, to want her to be at home.
pairings: stack x annie, smoke x annie, smoke x fem!oc
summary: after ten years of running, stack, smoke, and his wife rosalie, return back home only to find that things are not the same. while under the thumb of a possessive brothel king, annie slips back into the lives of both brothers.
notes: the last part of something that was supposed to be a short story 🤧. give me your thoughts on the whole series!
"didn't know what I want 'til I saw your face...said goodbye to the old me..."
Smoke, Stack, and Rosalie had been riding for hours. Their horses moved at a steady, exhausted pace, hooves crunching through dry brush and loose gravel. No one had said a word since they left the brothel behind them. The world felt muted, like all sound had been swallowed by the weight of what happened.
The only voice that broke the silence was Rosalie’s, but even hers was sparse. Every few miles she murmured directions or a statement about the next place, and then she went quiet again, as if speaking too much might crack the fragile tension holding them together.
Stack rode a little behind the other two, slumped slightly forward in his saddle. His eyes stayed fixed on the path ahead, but he wasn’t really seeing anything. His mind was somewhere else entirely. It kept circling back to Annie. The image played on repeat in his head until his chest hurt.
He hadn’t wanted to leave her. Not truly. Even with everything twisted between them, even with the betrayal of knowing she’d slept with Smoke after being with him, leaving her had felt wrong. But his anger had tangled with his fear and his jealousy and his shame until he couldn’t tell one feeling from the next. He had been drowning in emotion he didn’t have the words for, didn’t know how to express. So he’d done what he always did when overwhelmed.
He acted impulsively. He walked away.
Now that the adrenaline had faded, regret gnawed at him with slow, deliberate teeth. He replayed every moment.
He should’ve talked to her after. He should’ve said something. He should’ve gone to her after Lightning shoved that jacket around her shoulders and told her she wasn’t alone.
But another part of him was still deeply, sickeningly angry. She’d been with him. She’d chosen him. He wasn’t delusional; he knew what they’d had wasn't some fairy-tale promise carved in stone. But it had meant something to him, something he hadn’t been ready to admit until after it was already ruined. And then she’d slept with Smoke. His own brother. And now she was wrapped up in Lightning’s arms like she belonged there too.
Stack didn’t know whether to cry, scream, or ride until the world ended. So he did none of it. He just stayed quiet. Quieter than he’d ever been.
Smoke kept watching him out of the corner of his eye. He didn’t ask anything. He could tell something was wrong with Stack, could feel the storm brewing inside him, but he didn’t know how to touch it without making everything worse.
By the time Rosalie finally slowed her horse and lifted a hand, the sky had turned a deep blue-black, stars starting to flicker into existence. They reached a small clearing tucked between tall pines, a place half-sheltered from the wind. Rosalie slid from her saddle first, stretching her back with a quiet groan.
“Here,” she said. “We’ll stop here for the night.”
Smoke dismounted next, wordlessly pulling gear from his horse’s packs. Stack followed, movements stiff and mechanical, as though his body were operating on whatever scraps of instinct he had left.
They set up camp in the same heavy, suffocating silence they’d ridden in. Firewood was gathered. Bedrolls were unrolled. Horses were tied and brushed down. Everything was done with the kind of dull efficiency that came from routine, except none of it felt routine anymore.
Back at the brothel, the atmosphere had shifted into a whirlwind of soft voices, trembling hands, and frantic footsteps. The girls were still disheveled from being startled out of sleep, but every single one of them hovered close to Annie, circling her like anxious mother hens.
They kept touching her shoulders, her arms, her face, checking for injuries she didn’t even realize she might’ve had. Someone kept fanning her. Someone else brought her a damp cloth. Two others kept asking her if she needed water, a seat, a lie-down, anything at all. Their worry only made her chest tighter.
Lightning had closed down the brothel for the night the moment he stepped inside, blood trailing from his arm. He barked the order with such finality that not one of the girls questioned it. They just locked the doors, pulled curtains shut, and tried to regroup.
Annie helped guide Lightning to a long cushioned bench by the wall, her hands shaky but determined. She pushed him down gently, even though he tried to act like he didn’t need help.
“Sit,” she’d said, her voice barely steady.
He obeyed, jaw clenched as the pain in his arm throbbed.
One of the girls brought over a basin of warm water. Another brought bandages and clean cloth. Annie thanked them softly, then dipped a cloth into the water and began cleaning the blood from Lightning’s arm. He hissed when the cloth made contact, but didn’t pull away. He just pressed his lips together and watched her with a strange, unreadable intensity.
The girls kept bustling around them. But Lightning didn’t pay attention to any of it. His eyes stayed glued to Annie.
Her face was pale, her hands trembling as she worked. Every now and then she had to stop and steady her breathing. Lightning’s gaze softened then, just slightly, like he was seeing beyond the chaos and the blood and the pain in his arm.
“You shouldn’t have been mixed up in this,” he murmured, voice low and rough around the edges.
Annie didn’t respond. She pressed the cloth a little harder against the wound, and Lightning sucked in a sharp breath.
“I mean it,” he said, softer this time. “You shouldn’t have had to see that. You shouldn’t have been put in danger. And I’m–”
He swallowed, eyes flickering downward.
“I’m sorry.”
Annie’s hands paused mid-movement. She didn’t look at him. She just stared at the wound, focusing on it as if her life depended on it. The room felt too bright, too loud, too full of people breathing and whispering and watching. Her throat tightened.
Stack’s face flashed through her mind. The way he’d looked away from her like he didn’t know her anymore. The way he’d kept walking even after she called out to him. How he couldn’t even bring himself to stay long enough to see her safe.
Lightning shifted slightly, trying to get a better look at her face, and that was when he saw it. Her eyes were glossy with tears she had been trying so hard not to let fall.
“Annie…” he said softly, brow furrowing.
She blinked rapidly, but the motion sent one tear slipping down her cheek anyway. She wiped it with the back of her hand, turning her face a little so the girls wouldn’t see. But Lightning saw everything. She looked like she was holding herself together by threads.
Lightning exhaled slowly, his good hand hovering near her elbow.
“You got hurt,” he murmured, “and you’re still worryin’ about them.”
Annie didn’t answer. She couldn’t. Her throat felt closed off. All she could think about was Stack walking away. And the sickening guilt of knowing she had given him more reasons than she meant to.
She sniffed quietly, forcing her focus back to the blood she was wiping away, but her vision blurred again. Her fingers trembled harder.
The girls finally noticed, their frantic chatter turning soft, sympathetic.
“Oh honey…”
“Poor thing, she’s shaken–”
“Sweetheart, you wanna sit down? You’re pale as a ghost.”
Annie just shook her head, whispering, “I’m fine.”
But she wasn’t. Lightning could see it, plain as day. And the weight of everything unsaid pressed down on the both of them as she worked in silence, tears quietly slipping down her cheeks, one after another.
When Annie finally tied off the last of Lightning’s bandages and made sure the bleeding had stopped, her hands were stiff and cold from how long she’d been forcing them to work. Lightning flexed his fingers gently, testing the wrap, but his eyes never left her face. He could tell she was unraveling. He just didn’t know how to hold her together.
“Thank you,” he murmured.
She didn’t answer. She barely nodded and set the blood-stained cloth aside. The girls were still hovering close by, fussing over Lightning now, relieved he was patched up. A few of them tried again to coax Annie into sitting, into drinking something warm, into letting them check her over one more time.
But Annie pushed herself up to her feet before any of them could stop her.
“I’m gonna go lie down,” she whispered.
It wasn’t really a lie, not exactly. She was going to her room. But she knew she wouldn’t sleep. She could already feel the ache behind her eyes, the way her thoughts were clawing at her chest, refusing to rest.
Lightning straightened a little, wincing, as if he might reach for her. “Annie–”
She didn’t look back at him. Not at him, not at the girls, not at anything. If she met anyone’s eyes right now, she knew she’d break completely.
“I’m fine,” she managed, though her voice cracked right in the middle of the word.
The girls exchanged worried glances. Lightning opened his mouth like he wanted to say something, but she was already slipping away from him.
She walked toward the hallway with slow, unsteady steps, feeling every pair of eyes on her. The brothel felt too warm, too crowded, too suffocating. Her feet dragged like she was wading through water. She held her arms close to her chest, shivering in her thin nightgown even though the building was full of lantern heat.
She pushed open her door, slipped inside, and quietly shut it behind her. Only when she was alone did she exhale the breath she’d been holding.
Her bed was right there, empty, untouched since she’d been ripped out of it. She sat on the edge of it, fingers curling into the blanket, her shoulders trembling.
She knew she wouldn’t sleep, but she laid down anyway, pulling the blanket up around herself, staring at the ceiling as tears slid into her hairline. She just lay there in the dark, heartbroken, guilty, and impossibly alone.
By early morning, the sky above their campsite had shifted into that pale gray-blue that came right before sunrise, the coldest part of the night lingering over them. Smoke and Rosalie were the first ones awake, quietly moving around the dying fire to gather their things. Stack had barely slept, but he lay still for a long moment after opening his eyes, staring up at the canopy of branches above him.
Everything felt heavy. His mind. His body. His chest.
Even the air felt thick with everything left unsaid.
Eventually he forced himself up, brushing dirt from his clothes and helping them kick sand over the last glowing embers. The silence between the three of them wasn’t angry, it was tired and worn thin.
They moved around one another with a sort of haunted awareness, packing blankets, tying down their bags, tightening straps. Rosalie kept glancing toward the trail ahead as if she was anxious to get moving. Smoke kept glancing toward Stack like he wanted to speak but couldn’t find the words. Stack didn’t look at either of them. He couldn’t. His mind was a mess.
His thoughts circled Annie without mercy. He’d replayed it all again and again until he felt sick.
He’d left her. And God, it ate him alive.
They finished packing in near silence. Rosalie tightened the last strap on her saddle while Smoke hoisted his bag onto his horse. Stack bent to grab the last of their supplies, then froze.
A thought hit him hard, like it had been waiting all night to break through.
He hadn’t talked to her. Not really.
He hadn’t sat with her, hadn’t calmed her down, hadn’t told her he cared. He hadn’t let her explain, hadn’t given himself the chance to understand anything. He’d been angry, yes, but mostly he’d been hurt. And instead of working through it, he’d run. He’d left her standing in the middle of the street crying because he couldn’t look at her without feeling betrayed.
But the truth broke over him in a rush. She hadn’t even owed him loyalty.
They weren’t officially together. They had danced around whatever was between them, touching and teasing and acting like something real, but he had never properly claimed her. He’d never said the words out loud. He never promised her anything concrete and she owed him even less.
What right did he have to be furious with her for sleeping with Smoke? His brother marrying Rosalie was the real betrayal, not Annie. And even then, that was between Smoke and Rosalie, not Annie.
He straightened slowly, the realization hitting him so hard his stomach flipped. He didn’t want to leave her.
He didn’t want to pretend she didn’t matter. He didn’t want to wonder for the rest of his life what could’ve happened if he had just stayed and talked to her like a man instead of running like a wounded animal.
He turned toward Smoke and Rosalie, throat dry.
“I’m goin’ back,” he said suddenly.
Rosalie’s head snapped up, brows lifting. Smoke blinked, halfway through fastening his saddlebag.
“What?” Smoke asked, confused.
Stack shook his head, already feeling the pull in his chest, the urgency, the need to move. “I need to talk to her. I didn’t do right by her yesterday.”
Smoke looked like he wanted to argue, but Rosalie stepped forward just a little, placing a hand on Smoke’s arm. She eyed Stack with a level, quiet seriousness that surprised him.
“Let him go,” she murmured.
Smoke’s jaw flexed. He looked between them, unsure, but Rosalie’s steady gaze kept him silent.
Stack didn’t wait for permission. He didn’t need validation for the only thing that felt right since the moment he walked away from Annie.
He was already crossing the camp to his horse, swinging himself up into the saddle with a speed that felt fueled by panic, regret, hope, everything tangled into one.
Smoke took a few steps forward, concern edging his voice. “Stack…just be careful.”
But Stack wasn’t listening anymore. He gripped the reins, his heart pounding hard enough to hurt, and turned his horse back toward the direction of the town.
He didn’t know what he was going to say or how she would react. But one thing was clear: He couldn’t leave her. Not like that.
With a sharp kick of his heel, he urged the horse forward, speeding into the trees, racing back toward the place he thought he wouldn’t return to.
Hours blurred behind him in a streak of dust, aching muscles, and the pounding rhythm of hooves against hard earth. The wind whipped at his face. He refused to slow down, refused to breathe properly, refused to stop thinking long enough to steady himself.
Every mile he put behind him, his mind created a new version of what he might say to Annie.
He rehearsed apologies, stumbled through confessions, imagined himself grabbing her hands and telling her he didn’t want to lose her. Then he imagined her crying, yelling, turning away from him. He imagined her refusing to even look at him. He imagined her telling him she hated him. He imagined her letting him hold her again.
His emotions swung back and forth so violently he thought he might fall off the damn horse. But he gripped the reins until the leather warmed under his palms.
He imagined a life with her. He imagined her working in his kitchen, complaining about something he did wrong. He imagined her sitting sideways on his lap while he read something he couldn’t focus on. He imagined waking up next to her. Coming home to her. Sharing something real.
And every time he imagined it, the guilt hit him again for walking away from her when she was at her lowest.
By the time he saw the familiar outline of the town rising up from the horizon, his heart had climbed into his throat. The sun had started to slip low, staining the sky orange, pink, and a thin band of purple. It was evening, so the brothel would be busy. People would be everywhere. But he didn’t care.
He rode harder.
He didn’t slow the horse until he’d already reached the front steps of the brothel, stopping so abruptly the animal stomped and tossed its head in irritation. Stack barely muttered a “Sorry, boy,” before tying the reins to the nearest post with trembling hands.
Noise spilled out of the front doors. The loud, booming chaos of a place that had barely survived a gunfight the morning before. He pushed through the doors, and the smell of perfume, alcohol, cigar smoke, and sweat hit him instantly.
Girls darted between customers in dresses that glittered under the lantern lights. A group of men were already drunk, hollering at one of the dancers on the small stage. Music from the piano layered with chatter and footsteps, making it almost hard to think.
Stack barely saw any of it. His eyes scanned the room like a sharp, frantic searchlight.
Where is she? Where is she? Come on, Annie, where–
Then he found her.
She stood near the bar, her back mostly to him, her hair falling down her shoulders the way he liked. She was wearing one of those dresses that hugged her in a way that made him forget what the hell he was doing. Somehow, after everything that had happened, the terror, the strain, the emotional wreckage, she looked breathtaking.
His breath left him in one harsh exhale.
All the speeches he’d practiced during the entire ride fell out of his head like water slipping through cupped hands. His mouth went dry. His heart thudded painfully. Every thought he had evaporated. He moved toward her without thinking.
He pushed past a pair of giggling girls, slipped around a group of men arguing over money, and closed the distance between them faster than he realized. His boots hit the floor harder and louder the closer he got, but she didn’t hear him. She was busy wiping spilled liquor off the counter, focused on her work like nothing else existed.
Stack swallowed, his hand rising almost on its own as he reached out and gently grabbed her arm.
Annie jerked instantly, her entire body tensing like she was about to scream or elbow whoever dared grab her. She spun, eyes wide, already pulling back her other hand to strike. But she didn’t get the chance. The moment she turned toward him he kissed her.
He kissed her like the last 48 hours had shredded him alive. He kissed her like leaving her had been a slow kind of dying. He kissed her like he needed her more than he needed air.
His hand slid up to her cheek, thumb brushing the skin he had missed touching. Her lips were soft and warm and real. So painfully real that he almost collapsed into her. The entire brothel faded. The music, the shouting, the dancing, the clinking glasses, silenced.
Annie froze for half a second, shocked beyond words, her breath caught in her chest, eyes fluttering closed without meaning to. She tasted the dust of the trail on his lips, felt the desperation in the way he held her.
And Stack, for the first time since that awful morning, felt like he could breathe again.
Annie pulled back from the kiss, breath catching in her throat, her mind spinning so violently she swore the floor shifted beneath her feet. For a second, for a long suspended heartbeat, she just stared at him. She looked him over as if he couldn’t possibly be standing there in front of her. As if this had to be one of those dreams she woke up from too soon.
Her hands rose on instinct, trembling as she cupped his face, then slid down to his shoulders, then to his arms, running over every inch like she needed proof, like she needed to feel bone and heat and muscle before she allowed herself to believe it.
“How Stack? How are you here?” she whispered, voice breaking in the middle. It wasn’t even a question so much as a plea for confirmation that this wasn’t some cruel trick of her exhausted mind.
Around them, the room seemed to shrink. She felt the weight of all those eyes, and especially Lightning’s. But none of it mattered. None of it meant a damn thing at that moment. There was Stack, and there was her, and the world around them fell away like dust.
Stack swallowed hard, his eyes never leaving her face, the sort of look that said he’d replayed this moment in his head for hours, maybe days. “I had to talk to you,” he said finally, voice low and rough, like the words scraped coming out. “I just had to.”
Something in Annie’s chest cracked wide open. She didn’t care who was watching. Didn’t care what it meant. Didn’t care how complicated everything would be in five minutes or an hour or tomorrow morning. All she cared about was the boy in front of her who had ridden himself half to death just to stand here.
She leaned in and pecked him once right on the corner of his mouth. Then she whispered, soft enough that only he could hear, “Okay.”
Her fingers slid down into his palm, weaving their hands together like it was second nature. She didn’t even look around to see who noticed. She didn’t have to. The whole brothel felt like it was holding its breath.
Without another word, she tugged him gently, pulling him with her past the crowd. She led him up the narrow staircase, her thumb brushing over his knuckles as if to reassure herself he was still behind her, still following, still hers for this moment.
And she didn’t stop until she reached her room. It was the only place in that entire building where the world couldn’t reach them, where no one else’s expectations or judgments could wedge themselves between what she felt and what he wanted from her.
Only when the door clicked shut behind them did she finally let herself breathe.
Annie moved to sit on the edge of her bed, the mattress dipping softly beneath her weight. Her fingers immediately began twiddling in her lap, fidgeting and knotting together like they were trying to keep her own nerves from spilling out. She cleared her throat and lifted her gaze to Stack.
He was still standing by the door, his back pressed against the wood as if he needed it to hold him up. He hadn’t taken even a single step further into the room. His hands hung uselessly at his sides, jaw clenched so tight she could see the faint twitch in the muscle. For a moment, it looked like he didn’t know what to do with himself.
Then he sighed. A long, heavy, bone-deep sigh that told her he hadn’t slept, hadn’t eaten, hadn’t breathed right since the moment he found out. When he finally spoke, his voice cracked in the middle of the sentence.
“I just need to know why.”
The words hung between them like smoke.
Annie’s heart dropped. She knew exactly what he meant. There was no use pretending otherwise. She swallowed, eyes sinking to her hands for a moment before lifting again.
“I don’t know,” she said softly. “I figured maybe it was somethin’ still in me that loved him. Or wanted him. I don’t know.” Her throat tightened. “I thought maybe it was some old part of me I never really got rid of.”
Stack didn’t move.
She felt the silence pressing into her skin, pushing her forward, making the truth come out faster than she could shape it.
“But even after it happened, I didn’t feel relieved.” she continued, voice cracking, “I didn’t feel good. I didn’t feel like I got somethin’ back or fixed somethin’ inside me.” Her fingers twisted harder. “I felt guilt. And shame. Because I knew what I did was gonna hurt you real bad.”
Her words spilled out faster and faster, her voice rising then falling, like she was trying to talk over her own regret.
“I’m sorry, Stack. I’m real sorry. At the time I thought I–I don’t know what I thought. Maybe that it would be some kind of test to see if we were ever supposed to be together. Or–or something that could be passed over. But I guess I wasn’t thinkin’ clear enough. I guess I was wrong. But I swear I’m sorry–”
Stack finally cut in, his voice soft but sharp enough to slice her rambling clean in half.
“Do you still feel somethin’ for him?”
The question hit her like a blow. The room felt too quiet all of a sudden, too small, too heavy. She took a long, painful pause, staring at her hands, at the wall, at anything but his face. She forced herself to breathe once, twice, before she finally looked up.
“Whatever I felt for him…” she said slowly, carefully, “it’s gone.” Her voice steadied at the end. “And I’m sure it’s not gonna come back.”
She meant every word.
And Stack could see it in her eyes.
Stack let out a slow breath, the kind that seemed to drag every ounce of hurt out with it. He stared at her for a long moment before he finally spoke.
“It’s gonna take a while for me to forgive you,” he said honestly. “But…I’ve already started.”
Annie’s heart thudded in her chest. She hadn’t let herself hope for that yet.
Stack pushed himself away from the door and walked toward her, step by step, like each one brought him closer not just to her but to everything he wanted and didn’t know how to ask for. When he reached her, he took her hands in his like he didn’t want her slipping away from him again.
Annie swallowed hard, her throat bobbing visibly as she stared up at him. Her fingers curled into his almost on instinct. She had been bracing for anger, for disappointment, for distance. Not this. Not him choosing to stand right in front of her.
“I’m willing to forgive you,” he continued, voice rough but steady. “Because I can’t walk away from you knowin’ what we could have. I’m not throwin’ all that away over a moment.”
Her breath trembled.
Stack shook his head, his thumbs brushing the tops of her knuckles. “I know you were confused. Hell, there was too damn much happenin’ at once. I get it. I ain’t sayin’ it didn’t hurt, but…” He leaned in a little, his eyes softening. “I don’t want you confused about where I stand.”
Annie’s chest tightened painfully around her heart.
“I love you,” Stack said, the words falling out of him like they had been sitting on the edge of his tongue for months. “And I wanna be with you. I’ll do anything for you, Annie. Anything.”
Her breath hitched unsteadily, almost like she’d been hit. Her eyes widened and shimmered as his confession rolled over her, warm and overwhelming.
Stack didn’t look away. His eyes were full of the kind of love that made her feel seen, held, claimed in a way no one ever had. Love that made her stomach flutter and her heart ache and her mind go still all at once.
For the first time since everything fell apart, Annie felt hope rise in her chest.
And Stack just kept holding her hands like he wasn’t ever planning to let go.
His voice softened like he’d finally stopped running from everything he felt.
“I want it all with you,” he murmured. “All of it. The house, the kids. Whatever kind of life you want, Annie.”
Her breath caught, but he kept talking, squeezing her hands like he needed her to feel the truth in every word.
“If you still wanna work here? Then you work here. I ain’t ever gonna take nothin’ away from you. I want you to have everything you want. I’ll make it happen. I don’t care what it looks like or what anyone says.” His jaw tightened with emotion. “I just want you. And I want you happy.”
Annie’s eyes shimmered again, tears threatening to spill. Her lips parted, but no sound came out.
Stack leaned down gently like she was something fragile he’d finally been trusted to hold. First he pressed a soft kiss to her forehead, lingering there for a moment as if grounding himself in the warmth of her skin. Then he kissed the tip of her nose, featherlight, tender.
He moved to kiss her mouth, but before his lips could touch hers, Annie whispered, shaky but sure:
“I love you too.”
Stack froze just a fraction, barely breathing.
Annie cupped his cheek with her trembling hand. “I love you,” she said again, stronger this time. “And I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. If it takes the rest of my life to show you how much I love you then that’s what I’ll do.”
Stack didn’t give her a chance to say anything else. He closed the distance, his mouth pressing to hers in a deep, slow, aching kiss. One that tasted like forgiveness and longing and the kind of love that made both of them weak.
Annie melted into him instantly, her hands slipping up into his hair, pulling him closer, kissing him back like she’d been waiting her whole life for this moment.
Their mouths were fused together, kissing like they were starved. Annie clutched at Stack’s shirt, pulling him down with her until his weight tipped forward and they fell back onto the bed together. Her body bounced gently against the mattress. Stack braced above her on his forearms but already losing control.
His hands were everywhere. Up her thighs, spreading warmth across her hips, sliding under her dress like he needed to feel every inch of soft skin he’d been dreaming about. Annie gasped, arching up into him, her fingers winding into his hair.
Stack kissed her again, then dragged his mouth down her cheek, over her jaw, to the curve of her neck. Annie let out a soft moan, her head tilting instinctively to give him more room. The sound seemed to set something off in him. He groaned low in his throat, his breath hot against her pulse.
“That might be my brother,” he muttered against her skin, his voice rough, jealous, possessive in a way that shot straight through her, “but I gotta make sure you don’t remember nothin’ from that man.”
Annie tried to laugh, a small breath of amusement catching in her chest, but it broke instantly into a helpless moan when Stack’s mouth latched onto her neck, sucking gently right beneath her ear. Her fingers tightened in his shirt, her thighs pressing together as heat pooled low in her belly.
Stack’s hands slid higher, gripping her waist, then her ribs, then brushing the underside of her breast through her dress. He groaned again as he shifted, his hips settling between her legs, and Annie felt it. The slow, unmistakable hardening of him pressing firmly against her thigh.
Her breath hitched. God, the way he wanted her, she felt it everywhere.
Stack kissed his way down her throat, whispering her name like a prayer. “Annie, baby–”
She swallowed hard, dizzy from want, but somewhere beneath the haze, a spark of intention lit up. A bold, wicked idea.
Annie brought her hand up, pressing lightly against his chest.
“Stack,” she whispered.
He froze, groaning quietly in frustration as he pulled back just enough to look at her. His eyes were dark, his lips kiss-swollen, his breathing uneven. “You want me to stop?” he asked, though he looked like stopping might physically hurt him.
“No,” she said quickly, her voice low and warm. “But I wanna give you something.”
He blinked, confused but listening.
She slid out from under him slowly, tapping his chest to guide him upward. Stack let her go, though every muscle in him looked tight with want. He hovered there, staring as she stood beside the bed, smoothing her dress down her thighs.
“I know you gave up something to be with me,” she said softly. “So now it’s my turn.”
He opened his mouth to ask what she meant, but then she smirked at him. A small, wicked little curve of her lips that made his eyebrows shoot up and his breath falter.
Annie walked across the room with a confidence that sent electricity through him, her hips swaying beneath the fabric of her dress. She stopped at her vanity, leaning forward just enough for him to watch the way her silhouette bent, the way her curls spilled over her shoulders, the way the hem of her dress lifted ever so slightly up the back of her thighs.
Stack’s mouth went dry.
She met his eyes in the mirror and said, cool and deliberate, “Meet me at the peep booth.”
Then Annie crossed the room again, slow and teasing. She stood on her toes, kissed him once, then placed her hand on his chest and pushed gently toward the door.
“Go on,” she whispered with a playful tilt of her head. “I’ll be waiting.”
Stack stumbled out of the doorway, dazed, heat rolling through him in waves. Annie closed the door behind him, leaving him standing in the hallway with his heart pounding, his mind racing, and his body already aching for whatever she had planned next.
Stack headed downstairs, trying his best to adjust himself in a way that wouldn’t make his arousal obvious. He tugged at his shirt, shifted his belt, cleared his throat yet nothing helped. He was still hard, still breathing too fast, still replaying Annie’s smirk.
A few of the brothel girls spotted him the moment he stepped off the stairs. They glanced down, right where he didn’t want them looking, and burst into quiet giggles behind their hands. One of them even fanned herself dramatically as he hurried past, but Stack ignored all of them. His focus was locked on whatever Annie had planned and how fast he could get there.
He walked across the crowded main area, the music low and sultry, men drinking and talking, ladies dancing around the room. But Stack barely saw any of it. His pulse thudded in his ears. Every step made his chest tighten more.
He slipped into the back hallway. The lanterns flickered dimly, casting shadows across the walls. It had been a long time since he’d been back there. A long time since he had stood in this exact corridor with Annie pressed up against him, laughing softly before she slid into her booth.
When he approached the little counter where the same woman sat, she stared at him like she’d seen a foreign object.
“Well I’ll be,” she said, leaning forward with a slow grin. “Thought I wasn’t ever gon’ see you down here again.”
Stack scratched the back of his neck. “Yeah, well, it’s been a minute.”
“No kiddin’,” she said with a chuckle. “Ever since Lightning put that girl on booth probation, I figured the two of you were done for good.”
Stack looked down, heat creeping up his neck. “She sent me down here tonight,” he said quietly. “And I don’t know what for yet.”
The woman raised her eyebrows high, lips curving knowingly. “Me either,” she said. “But just know…” She reached under the counter. “You’ll have her to yourself.”
Stack felt his stomach drop and rise all at once. There was a double meaning that he caught, but he was sure the woman had no clue about. He swallowed hard.
The woman placed a wooden token in his palm.
Stack exhaled slowly through his nose, a breath of disbelief mixed with memory. Booth Five was the place where everything between him and Annie had truly begun.
He nodded once in gratitude, though his heart was pounding like he’d been running miles. Then he turned and walked down the hallway, closing his fingers tight around the old wooden coin.
Each step toward the booth made the air grow heavier in a way that hit him right in the chest. The narrow corridor creaked beneath his boots as he reached the door.
He stood there for a moment, staring at the booth that had started it all. Then, with a slow breath, he pushed the door open.
Inside the cramped little booth, the familiar musk of old wood and cheap perfume wrapped around him, and Stack felt that first heavy wave of emotion hit him right in the chest. It was stupid, but his body remembered this place. His heart did too. He shut the door behind him and stood there for a second, staring at the slot where the wooden coin would go, the dim bulb humming faintly above him.
He lowered himself onto the wooden bench, exhaling slowly, trying to settle the rush in his blood. He didn’t put the coin in yet. Annie would need a minute to get herself together before this show, and he figured she needed it now more than ever. And him too. Definitely him too.
He scrubbed a hand down his face, then cleared his throat softly, trying to will his body back under control. He adjusted himself in his pants, tugging at his waistband so he wouldn’t be sitting there looking painfully obvious if she appeared on the other side of the panel. For a few seconds it helped.
But then his mind started wandering. Thinking about her. Thinking about all the things she could be doing on the other side of that wall. Or what she might be wearing. If she was wearing anything at all. Whether she was thinking about him half as hard as he was thinking about her.
And once his mind started down that road, he was gone. Completely lost in it. The seconds stretched out into minutes, long enough that he didn’t even realize how much time had passed. Long enough that the anticipation shifted into something hot and unbearable behind his ribs.
Finally, when his pulse felt like it was sitting in his throat and his palms were starting to sweat, he reached into his pocket. He curled his fingers around the wooden coin, lifted it, and slid it into the slot.
The click that followed sounded louder than it had any right to.
The wooden panel began to rise with that slow mechanical grind that always built suspense, but this time it felt like the world was being peeled open in front of him. Stack leaned forward without meaning to, breath caught somewhere between his chest and his throat. And then he saw her. And everything inside him stopped.
Annie stood there in the warm light, and she looked unreal. Like something dreamed up after too many sleepless nights thinking about her. She was covered in sparkles that caught every bit of light and threw it back at him, shimmering along her skin like she’d been dipped in diamonds. The ruby red corset hugged her waist and pushed up her chest in a way that had Stack’s lungs forgetting how to function. The matching garter set framed her hips, the thin straps sitting high and tight against her thighs. Scarlet gloves went up past her elbows, and the stockings…God, the stockings. Red, sheer, clinging to every curve of her legs.
He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t blink. He could barely think.
His gaze traveled over her slowly, hungrily, like he was discovering her all over again. But the longer he looked, the more recognition settled into him. A soft shock first, then something deeper, something that tugged at his heart. Because he knew that outfit. He knew every piece of it. He remembered the day he bought it for her. He remembered buying it on impulse, imagining how Annie would look in it, imagining what it would feel like if she wore it for him. And he remembered her telling him that she would only wear it for a special occasion.
His throat tightened. And he figured–hell, he hoped–that their confessions, the way they’d both finally cracked open and spilled every truth they’d been afraid to say…maybe that counted as special enough.
The music began then, a slow, sultry beat that filled the space between them. Annie didn’t speak. She just started moving, body rolling with the rhythm, her hands sliding up her hips, her stomach, her waist. Never once taking her eyes off him. Like he was the only man in the world. Like this whole booth, this whole night, existed just for them.
Stack had to clear his throat, had to tug at his pants again, shifting because he was already aching for her and there was no hiding it now. The bench felt too small, the room too hot, the air too thin. She kept moving and he kept watching, completely undone.
Then she tilted her head slightly, her gaze sharpening, and she spoke. Her voice low enough that it felt like a secret meant only for him.
“Do you know why we here?” she asked. “And why I wore this tonight?”
Stack’s eyebrows pulled together. He swallowed hard and shook his head, because there weren’t any words left in him. Not with her standing there like that. Not with her dancing for him like that.
A soft chuckle slipped out of her, warm and knowing. She stepped closer to the glass, hands gliding down her curves again as she kept swaying to the music.
“You left running the roads with your brother,” she said. “To be with me. To choose me.”
He felt that, deeply. Felt it settle right into his bones.
“So I decided it was time for me to let go too.”
His heartbeat stumbled. “Let go of what?” he managed, voice rough.
She turned, slowly and deliberately, running her hands up her sides as she rolled her hips to the music.
“I’m leaving the brothel,” she said simply, as if she hadn’t just dropped something life-changing between them.
Stack’s eyes shot wide open. He sat up straighter, almost leaning forward like he needed to make sure he heard her right. “But, what about Lightning?” he blurted. Because that man never let anything go easy.
Annie smirked, sensual and confident in a way that made his stomach flip. “Don’t worry about him,” she said. “He has to let me go. Without fuss.”
She spun slowly, her hair catching the dim light, hands sliding down her thighs and back up her stomach. “Besides,” she added, voice dropping. “I already told him before I came down here to dance for you.”
Stack blinked. Trying to process all of it. His chest felt tight with something fierce, something grateful, something terrified to even believe this was real.
Then Annie leaned in, her lips curving into the softest smile he’d seen from her in a long, long time.
“Now,” she whispered, eyes locked on his. “You can be the only man I dance for.”
Stack just sat there, smiling like a damn fool, unable to wipe the expression off his face no matter how hard he tried. It wasn’t even a normal smile. No, it was this dazed, grateful, hungry kind of grin that only a man who finally had the woman he wanted could wear. Watching Annie dance for him again like this, dressed in something he bought her, moving like she was his and his alone–made something warm and powerful swell in his chest.
He couldn’t believe it. Couldn’t believe she was really his now. And she showed it.
Annie kept touching herself as she danced, hands sliding over every curve like she was giving him a private preview of everything he’d get later. She ran her palms up her thighs, tracing the garter straps, then up over her hips and stomach. Sometimes she let her fingers dip between her legs just enough to make his breath hitch. Other times her hands cupped her breasts, squeezing just enough to make her moan. It was quiet at first, then louder, letting the sound echo through the booth so he could feel it.
Every movement, sound, sway of her hips, and arch of her back was for him. She knew exactly what she was doing to him, too.
She kept her eyes on him the entire time, refusing to look away, like she wanted him to feel every second of it. Wanted him to know that this was her way of choosing him back. Her way of claiming him just as much as he was claiming her.
Way too soon, the soft chime played overhead, signaling the last few seconds of the session. Annie slowed her movements, dragging out the ending, running one last hand up her body and letting her fingers brush her lips before blowing him a tiny, wicked kiss.
Stack felt his heartbeat stutter. He felt everything stutter.
The wooden panel began lowering, separating them again, and for the first time ever he hated that sound. Hated losing sight of her, even for a moment. As the panel slid fully into place, and all that remained was the ghost of her scent and the echo of her moans.
He sat there frozen for several seconds, trying to bring himself out of the haze she put him in. He blinked slowly, forcing himself to breathe normally. He ran a hand over his face, then through his hair. He even cleared his throat and sat up straighter, trying to look less like a love-struck idiot and more like a man with some kind of self-control.
It didn’t work.
The smile stayed glued to his face, stubborn and wide and helpless. He let out a quiet laugh under his breath, shaking his head because he really could not believe that this was his life now. That she had just danced like that for him, and that she had told him she was leaving everything she knew to choose him.
Then he heard the soft creak of a door opening.
Stack turned just in time to see Annie appear from the side entrance that connected the booths and a hidden hallway meant only for the girls. She stepped out of her side, still wearing that red outfit he couldn’t get out of his head, still glowing from the dance, still looking like the most beautiful damn thing he’d ever seen. And Stack’s heartbeat picked up again.
Annie didn’t even wait for him to gather himself completely. She stepped into the little booth, her silhouette framed by the dim hallway light behind her, and reached out for him. Stack rose instantly the moment her fingers curled around his hand, like his body had been waiting for her signal the whole time.
As soon as he was standing, he grabbed her by the waist and pulled her flush against him. Annie let out a small breath, but before she could say anything he was kissing her, deep and heated, like all the minutes he’d spent watching her through the booth window had built into something he couldn’t contain anymore.
His hands slid down her sides without hesitation, settling on her ass and squeezing hard enough to make her gasp into his mouth. Annie wrapped her arms around his shoulders, pulling him closer, the soft brush of her corset sending a shock through him. Their mouths moved together desperately, like they were trying to make up for every hour they’d been apart.
Stack was barely thinking. His body simply reacted, pressing her back as he walked her toward the nearest surface. Their lips stayed locked until her back bumped against the door behind them. She let out a surprised little chuckle against his mouth.
“Wait–Stack…” she said between kisses, giggling when he tried to pull her back in. “We need to take this upstairs. To my room.”
He finally paused long enough to look down at her. Her lips were swollen from his kisses, her chest rising and falling quickly. She was a vision. A dangerous, irresistible vision.
His eyes traveled slowly down her body, then back up. “You’re gonna walk out there dressed like that?” he asked, voice low and rough, like the question alone almost pained him.
Annie just smirked and brushed her thumb across his jaw. “That’s what you’re here for,” she said softly, teasingly. “To protect your woman.”
Something hot and possessive flickered in Stack’s eyes at those last two words. He didn’t say anything to her. His hand squeezed hers instead, like he was silently claiming her back.
“Come on,” she whispered, tugging him.
Stack followed without a single complaint.
She led him out of the booth and into the hallway, their fingers intertwined. He stayed close to her side, one hand curled around hers and the other hovering near the small of her back like he was ready to shield her from anyone who even blinked at her wrong.
When they stepped into the main room of the brothel, the lights hit her fully, and so did the men. The moment Annie appeared in that sparkling red set, heads turned. A couple of customers let out long whistles, one man even tapping his friend and nodding in her direction, their eyebrows raised.
Stack’s jaw clenched instantly.
But Annie didn’t slow down or hide. She kept walking with her chin lifted, leading him right through the center of the room. Stack stayed glued to her side, shoulders squared, giving every man who glanced too long a look that made their whistles die off into silence.
It didn’t matter how many eyes were on them.
She was his woman now.
Annie guided him toward the staircase, the two of them walking through the noise and laughter and music of the brothel like they were in their own world. When they reached the stairs, she looked back at him with a small smirk, still holding his hand as she ascended step by step.
He followed her all the way up, heart pounding, until they reached her room. Where it was just the two of them again, with the door waiting to be closed behind them.
The moment the door did shut behind them, Annie didn’t hesitate. She turned around and practically attacked him, throwing her arms around his neck and pulling him into another kiss, this one even more urgent and excited than before. Stack barely had time to register her body pressing against his before her mouth was on his again, soft and hungry and sure.
He made a low sound in his throat, hands already finding her waist as she walked him backward across the room. Their lips kept moving, open-mouthed and desperate, teeth brushing, breath mixing. Annie kissed him like she’d been waiting hours for this moment.
They stumbled together until Stack’s legs hit the edge of the bed. Annie pushed him gently, and he let himself fall back onto the mattress with a low laugh against her lips. She didn’t waste a second before climbing onto him, straddling his hips, her thighs settling warm and thick on either side of him.
He looked up at her with a stunned kind of awe. She leaned down and kissed him again, slowly at first, then deeper, grinding just barely against the growing hardness under her.
Stack’s hands traveled down her back, settling right where her garter straps met her stockings. Then he slid lower, palms cupping the full round of her ass. He squeezed, firm and claiming, like he’d been waiting years to get his hands back on her. Annie moaned into his mouth, the sound vibrating through him, making his grip tighten.
Her body arched slightly at the feeling, and his thumbs rubbed slow circles over the soft flesh, exploring, memorizing, appreciating. Every touch made Annie shiver, made her kiss him harder, her hips rolling just a little more intentionally against him.
They broke the kiss only when both of them needed air. Annie’s breath was shaky, her lips swollen, her eyes half-lidded as she looked down at him like he was the only man in the world.
“Stack…” she whispered, voice soft and trembling with emotion. She placed her hands on his chest, feeling his heartbeat hammering under her palms. “Make love to me.”
Those words hit him deep. Something in his expression shifted. It was almost disbelieving that she was asking him that, asking him for that kind of closeness after everything they’d been through.
He ran his hand up her back, slow and gentle this time, letting his fingertips trace her spine. “Okay,” he said quietly, voice thick and full of promise. “Alright, baby. I will.”
Annie leaned down and kissed him again. A kiss that wasn’t just about want or heat or need, but about choosing each other. About everything they’d endured and everything they were about to build.
His hands slid up her sides, her fingers tangled in his hair, and they kissed like neither one wanted to come up for air ever again.
The next morning crept in slowly, sunlight leaking through Annie’s thin curtains and falling across the tangled sheets where she and Stack had spent most of the night wrapped around each other. But by the time the sun fully climbed over the rooftops, Annie was already awake, sitting on the edge of her bed in her slip, folding the last of her dresses with shaking hands.
Stack stood nearby, leaning against the wall with his arms folded, just watching her. He wasn’t rushed, wasn’t pushing her. He knew she needed to move slowly, to breathe through the change she was about to make. His eyes followed every movement she made with softness. Every so often, he reached up to rub the back of his neck like he was trying to calm himself too, because seeing her gather her life into a single bag stirred something heavy inside him.
Annie smoothed down the fabric of her last dress before placing it gently into her old trunk. She closed the lid with a quiet click, staring at it for a moment because it held years of memories. Some painful, some beautiful, but all a part of the woman she had been before Stack walked back into her life.
She let out a slow breath. “Alright,” she whispered to herself before turning to look at him.
Stack pushed off the wall. “You ready?” he asked, voice low, like he wanted to make sure she wasn’t forcing herself.
Annie looked around the room at the bed, the vanity, the mirror, the bouquet of fake flowers in the corner, the soft pink curtains Lightning let her choose when he first took her in. It all felt heavy. Like the ghosts of her old self were still lingering here in the walls.
After a long moment, she nodded. “Yeah,” she said quietly. “I’m ready.”
Stack stepped beside her and picked up her things without hesitation. Annie walked close to him, her fingers slipping into his. He squeezed gently, grounding her, and together they headed toward the door.
Descending the brothel stairs felt surreal. Every creak of the wood was familiar, every step held years of memories Annie wasn’t sure she was ready to let go of but knew she had to.
When they reached the bottom, the girls who were milling about the main room froze. They stared at Annie with Stack and her bags, and confusion washed over all their faces at once.
“Annie?” one of the younger girls asked.
“Where you goin’ with all that?” another chimed in, eyes wide.
A wave of murmurs spread across the room until the girls were talking over each other, asking questions, making guesses, upset and stunned all at once. Some gasped. Some frowned. A few looked like they were on the verge of crying.
Lightning was leaning against the far wall, his injured arm still bandaged. He didn’t say a word at first. He just watched her, jaw tight, eyes unreadable.
Annie held her free hand up, trying to quiet the noise. “I’m leaving,” she finally said, voice steady even though her chest tightened around the words.
The room fell silent in an instant.
One girl covered her mouth with her hand. Another muttered, “No…” under her breath. Even the customers still lingering from the night before looked around awkwardly.
“Leaving?” one of the older girls repeated, stepping toward her. “Baby, what you mean leaving?”
“Did something happen?”
“Is someone makin’ you go?”
“You can’t just up and go like that–”
“Where you even gonna go?”
Stack stood tall beside her, protective without being overbearing, but Annie just shook her head firmly like she’d made peace with her choice already.
“I just…it’s time,” she said. “I’m grateful for everything y’all did for me, but I can’t stay here anymore.”
One girl rushed in first and threw her arms around Annie’s shoulders. Then another hugged her from the side. Then another. Soon she was swallowed in a circle of arms. Even the girls who had never liked her very much stepped in, giving her quick, tight hugs as if all their past annoyance melted away now that she was leaving for good.
“You take care of yourself,” one whispered.
“You better write us,” another said, wiping her cheek.
Finally, the crowd parted, and Lightning stepped forward. For a long moment, neither of them moved. They just stared at each other. This man who had taken her in when she had nothing, who had protected her, who had clung to her.
Lightning swallowed hard. “I’m gon’ miss you,” he said quietly, voice rough from exhaustion and pain.
A tear slipped down Annie’s cheek before she could stop it. “I’m gonna miss you too,” she whispered.
She stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him carefully, mindful of his wounded arm. Lightning pressed his cheek against the top of her head, the hug tight and lingering.
“Thank you,” she said softly. “For all the years you helped me. For lookin’ out for me.”
Lightning squeezed his eyes shut, holding her just a little tighter before letting her go.
Stack reached for her hand the second she stepped back, grounding her again. Annie laced her fingers through his, and without another word, he turned and guided her toward the door.
Annie took one last look back at the place that had shaped her, saved her, hurt her, and grown her…then she stepped out into the sunlight with Stack at her side, leaving the brothel, and that version of herself, behind.
They made their way across the quiet morning street toward the carriage Stack had gotten earlier that morning. It wasn’t fancy, but it was safe and it was theirs, and Annie felt something warm bloom in her chest just seeing it waiting for them.
The air was still cool, the sun not yet high enough to chase away the pale gold light that draped the town. Annie stayed close to Stack’s side, her fingers looped gently through his arm as they walked. Every step further from the brothel tightened something in her belly. This was real now and she wasn’t going back.
When they reached the carriage, she hesitated for half a breath, staring at it like it symbolized the beginning of a life she had only ever let herself imagine in secret.
Stack noticed. He turned to her, brushing a thumb across her cheek in a soft, grounding touch.
“Hey,” he murmured, “you okay?”
Annie nodded. “Just never thought I’d be leavin’ like this.”
Stack gave her a small smile. It was comforting, and so full of love it made her throat tighten. “Ain’t no wrong way to start a new life,” he said. “Long as we’re startin’ it together.”
Her heart fluttered just hearing him say “we.”
After a moment she cleared her throat and asked, “Where are we even goin’?” She felt almost embarrassed by the question, but she couldn’t help it. She’d only ever known this town and the one a few miles north that she’d come from. Beyond that, the world stretched too far for her to picture. “I don’t…I don’t got anywhere in mind. I don’t know nowhere else.”
Stack let out a small breath and looked out toward the open road beyond the buildings. When he turned back to her, something thoughtful flickered in his eyes.
“There’s a big city,” he said slowly. “It ain’t nothin’ like these little towns. Got people everywhere and buildings tall as trees, and shops, and lights, and places to eat at all hours.” His voice softened with a kind of nostalgia she’d never heard from him before. “I stopped there once a long time back. I remember tellin’ Smoke that if I ever settled down for real I’d pick there.”
Annie’s breath caught. The idea of Stack imagining a future before he ever knew it would be her made something tender unfurl in her chest. And the fact that he wanted to bring her there.
“Okay,” she whispered. “If that’s where you wanna go, then I wanna go too.”
His smile widened a little.
He lifted her trunk and placed it carefully in the back of the carriage, tucking her smaller bag beside it. Then he stepped to her side, hands warm and steady on her waist as he helped her climb up onto the carriage seat. His touch lingered for a moment longer than it needed to, thumb brushing her hip before he let go.
Once she was settled, Stack swung himself up beside her with smooth ease, took up the reins, and gave the horses a gentle flick.
The wheels began to roll.
Annie looked over her shoulder as the brothel, and the only life she had ever truly known, grew smaller until it finally disappeared behind the curve of the road.
Stack reached over and took her hand again, his fingers interlacing with hers like he meant never to let go.
“You ready for this?” he asked quietly, eyes on the road but voice soft just for her.
Annie leaned into him, resting her head lightly on his shoulder.
“Yeah,” she whispered, feeling the truth of it settle deep in her bones. “I’m ready.”
And together, they headed off toward the city where Stack had once dreamed of a life, and where they would now start building one together.
It had been a couple of years later, and life had settled into a rhythm so different from anything Annie had ever imagined for herself. She was dressed beautifully that afternoon. Wearing one of her favorite dresses, the kind that made her feel like she was still young and powerful and capable even on days when she was exhausted from juggling everything. The sunlight poured through the tall windows of the large home she shared with Stack, warming the hardwood floors and catching the gold rings on her fingers whenever she moved her hands.
A few of the girls who worked at the bar she owned were scattered throughout the house, moving around with baskets, papers, and a sort of hurried energy that always hovered whenever Stack wasn’t home. They were comfortable with Annie, but they also knew that Stack was the one who handled the “bigger” questions: supply truck delays, customers who caused trouble, money missing from the till, someone wanting their job back even though they were fired for good reason. Annie solved problems, yes, but Stack intimidated people into not creating them in the first place.
Right then, though, she was trying to focus on the books spread out across her desk. She sat with one of the ladies who leaned over the ledger with a concerned crease in her brow. Annie listened, half-distracted, tapping her nail against the wood as Mira explained something about deliveries arriving late and how that might affect the upcoming week.
They weren’t even talking about anything important anymore; the conversation had drifted to nonsense, to idle chatter, to “girl, did you hear what happened last night?” and “Stack is gonna lose his mind when he hears about this.” Annie hummed a response, bending over the numbers again.
That was when a cry split through the air from the other room.
Annie’s head snapped up instantly. Everything in her stilled, listening. The baby’s cry always cut straight through her, no matter where she was or what she was doing. It was instinct at this point.
“Hold that thought,” Annie murmured, already pushing her chair back.
She swept out of the office and down the hall, and as she opened the door to the bedroom, her daughter’s little hands were already reaching up for her, face scrunched with the beginnings of a full meltdown.
“Hey, hey, sweet girl. Mama’s here,” Annie cooed softly, gathering the baby into her arms with practiced ease.
The baby immediately calmed a little, pressing her face against Annie’s shoulder, but then she started fussing again. Her tiny fingers clawed at the front of Annie’s dress with surprising strength for someone so small, tugging and trying to wriggle herself closer to Annie’s chest.
“Oh, I know what you want,” Annie sighed with a laugh, shifting her to one hip and brushing a kiss across her warm forehead. “You’re not even subtle anymore, are you?”
She moved them both to the rocking chair in the corner. As Annie began soothing her, rocking her gently, the voices from down the hall started drifting closer. Mira and two other girls appeared in the doorway like curious cats, each of them holding papers or half-finished questions.
“Miss Annie, did you want us to–”
“Miss Annie, about the shipment–”
“Miss Annie, Stack said last week that–”
Annie didn’t even look at them at first, her attention fully on adjusting the baby’s position as her daughter kept urgently trying to stuff her face into Annie’s chest.
“Can y’all–” Annie began, then stopped to bounce the baby a little more. “Lord, she’s hungry. Okay, listen.” She finally turned toward them with a pointed stare. “Anything that has to do with Stack needs to wait until he gets home. I gotta feed my baby, and right now y’all are working my last nerve.”
The girls nodded quickly, retreating like chastised puppies.
“Sorry, Miss Annie…”
“We’ll wait.”
“Didn’t mean to bother you.”
Annie just waved them off and closed the bedroom door with her foot, exhaling a long breath as she settled into the rocking chair Stack had built for her himself. She unbuttoned her dress while her daughter squirmed eagerly, little whimpers turning into impatient squeaks.
“There you go,” Annie murmured, finally bringing the baby to her breast. “See? Mama’s got you.”
As soon as the baby latched, her whole tiny body relaxed, and Annie felt that familiar pull in her chest. She leaned back in the chair, her eyes softening, the chaos outside the room fading to nothing. For a moment, the only sound was gentle nursing and Annie’s quiet hum as she stroked her daughter’s hair.
Stack arrived home that evening to absolute chaos…again.
He stepped through the front door and barely had time to take off his coat before a wall of frantic voices hit him. Three women crowded around the foyer table waving receipts, another two stood at the bottom of the stairs whispering loud enough for God to hear, and someone in the kitchen was yelling about a delivery that never showed up. The sound bounced off the high ceilings of the big house he and Annie had built together, multiplying the noise into a headache waiting to happen.
Behind Stack, Smoke and Rosalie stepped in, both of them looking around with wide eyes. They’d traveled all morning to get here, and neither of them had expected to walk into what felt like a marketplace on festival day.
Smoke whistled low. “Damn. Y’all runnin’ a bar or a boarding house?”
Stack ignored him for the moment. His jaw clenched, his face already twisting into that expression everyone recognized.
The ladies kept chattering over each other, thrusting papers at him, trying to explain situations that barely made sense even when one person talked at a time:
“Stack, the supplier said–”
“Stack, I told her you wouldn’t like–”
“Stack, this customer came in–”
“Stack, can we talk about–”
He shut his eyes for half a second. Then he snapped.
“Everybody either shut up or get the hell out!” His voice boomed through the entire house.
The effect was immediate. A few of the women froze like statues, others scrambled toward the door without a second thought. The ones who stayed went silent instantly, eyes wide, backs straight, hands behind them like schoolgirls caught misbehaving.
Stack glanced around, satisfied with the sudden order, then realized something. Annie wasn’t at her desk.
Her chair was pushed back, her ledger still open, her pen lying sideways like she’d put it down mid-thought. Stack’s expression softened. Hell, he didn’t even need to think about it. She was in the nursery.
She always disappeared into that room the second their daughter made a noise even slightly resembling distress. Half the time Annie didn’t even seem to realize she’d gotten up. Her maternal instinct pulled her like a string.
Stack headed down the hall, motioning behind him without looking. “Come on. You two ain’t seen her in damn near three years, so don’t wander off.”
Smoke and Rosalie followed close, quieter now, taking in how much had changed since they last saw him. The house was bigger, nicer, and busy in a way that clearly had nothing to do with weapons or running cons anymore.
Stack stopped at the nursery door, which was closed. He lifted his hand and knocked softly.
“Annie?”
No response, but he heard the faintest little cooing sound from inside. He opened the door slowly, and the whole tension in his chest melted.
Annie sat in the rocking chair, bathed in warm afternoon light, her dress loosened as she breastfed their daughter. Her hair was falling forward over one shoulder, her eyes half-lidded with that calm, soft look she only ever wore with the baby.
And the baby fluttered her tiny hand against Annie’s skin.
Stack smiled.
He stepped inside and immediately shut the door behind him, blocking out the chaos of the house, and the chaos of the world with it. He didn’t want anyone else’s voice poisoning this moment.
“Hey, beautiful,” he murmured, leaning down to kiss Annie’s forehead before kissing her lips gently.
She smiled into the kiss, humming low.
Stack dropped into a squat beside her chair, rubbing the baby’s soft curls. “Look at you,” he whispered to his daughter. “Got your mama all to yourself again, huh?”
The baby kicked her little feet, still focused on eating but clearly aware of her father’s presence.
Stack looked up at Annie. “We got some people who wanna see you,” he said softly.
Annie raised an eyebrow without looking away from the baby. “Who?”
“Smoke and Rosalie.”
Annie didn’t react much, just a small hum. “Mm-hmm.”
She shifted the baby slightly, rocking her while she finished nursing. It wasn’t a refusal, but it wasn’t enthusiasm either. But Stack knew her. That hum was as good as a yes.
He kissed her cheek. “Alright. I’m bringin’ them in then.”
Stack stood, cracked the door open, and jerked his chin for them to enter. “Be quiet,” he warned, voice low but firm. “She’s feedin’ the baby.”
Smoke and Rosalie slipped into the room like they were stepping into holy ground. They hadn’t seen Annie in years, and the sight of her hit them harder than they expected.
Smoke’s voice dipped to barely above a whisper. “Damn, look at you.”
Annie didn’t say anything right away. She just nodded slightly, still focused on her daughter as the baby finally pulled away, tiny mouth wet and searching. Annie wiped the little face gently with the cloth draped over her shoulder.
The baby blinked up at the room, recognizing voices she didn’t know, but instantly recognizing Stack. Her arms lifted toward him.
“Yeah, yeah, come here,” Stack said softly, sliding one hand under her and lifting her with practiced ease. The baby giggled breathlessly, grabbing his beard like she always did.
Smoke stared at the little girl, genuine warmth settling over his features.
“I’m real happy for y’all,” he said quietly. “Both of you.”
Annie nodded once, tired but sincere. “Thank you, Smoke.”
And for a moment, just a moment, the room felt like a small piece of peace they’d all forgotten existed.
Summary: In the quiet aftermath of chaos—fires forgotten, scandals buried, old ghosts finally laid to rest—Elijah and Annie build something soft and real. Family dinners heal old wounds, late nights feel like home, and futures start to take shape. But just as one Moore brother reaches for forever… life has its own plans growing in the background. Double surprises, hospital shenanigans, and the kind of love that survives everything.
A/N: Y’all we are ALMOST to the end!! 🥹 I won’t give anything away in this chapter, but I hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing this one, cause the last chapter…I’m going out with a bang…literally.💥🤭💜
W/C: 6k
The news cycle moved on faster than anyone expected.
For a few days, Brewster Gaines’s face was everywhere — smiling headshots pulled from charity galas, captions calling him a “local businessman” and “community supporter.” Reporters speculated. Former associates offered carefully worded soundbites. Everyone said the same thing in different ways: shocking, unthinkable, tragic loss.
Then the language changed.
His name slid lower on the screen. The headlines shortened. Suspicious fire replaced investigation. His photo disappeared altogether, swapped out for wide shots of the burned estate and looping footage of fire crews hosing down blackened stone.
By the end of the week, Brewster Gaines was no longer a story — just a reference point.
The bank heist and freight yard shootings followed the same path. First urgency. Then distance. Then silence.
Officials used phrases that didn’t mean much to anyone listening — ongoing investigation, no new information at this time, the public is not believed to be at risk. Grainy footage aired once or twice on late-night broadcasts, too unclear to linger on, too vague to hold attention. Soon even that vanished, replaced by sports scores and weather updates.
Life filled the space where truth should’ve been.
New scandals broke. Elections stirred up noise. A celebrity apology tour swallowed a weekend’s worth of headlines. Whatever questions remained were buried under the weight of what came next.
On the Moore side of town, the quiet settled in like it meant to stay.
Every Sunday, without fail, Elijah and Elias showed up at Denise’s door by three o’clock sharp.
Sometimes they came with flowers from the grocery store down the road — nothing fancy, just whatever looked alive that day. Sometimes it was bags of groceries balanced on their hips, arguing over who forgot the bread. Sometimes it was nothing but tired eyes and the unspoken promise that they weren’t disappearing again.
Denise cooked when her body allowed it.
When it didn’t, the boys took over.
They bickered over seasoning.
Over who turned the burner too high.
Over whether garlic powder counted as real flavor.
They washed dishes shoulder to shoulder, passing plates back and forth, Stack flicking water at Elijah when he thought Denise wasn’t looking. They took out the trash. Fixed a sagging cabinet door. Tightened loose screws on a chair that had wobbled for years.
Small things.
Ordinary things.
The kind of care they never knew how to give her when they were young.
And they talked.
Not all at once. Never like that.
Conversations came in pieces — fragments left on the porch, half-sentences in the kitchen, truths that slipped out during long drives home.
One night, Denise sat beside Elijah on the porch swing, her hand resting over his forearm as crickets hummed.
“You ain’t Brew,” she said quietly. “You are not that man. Stop lettin’ him live rent-free in your head.”
Another evening, Stack stood at the sink drying dishes while Denise rinsed.
“You not second,” she told him without looking up. “I ain’t carry twins just for one of y’all to shine.”
The blowout at the safehouse didn’t disappear.
But it changed.
It stopped bleeding.
Turned into a scar — something they both knew was there, something they learned how to live around.
They talked business, too.
The clubs, the car shops, the detailing spots were still theirs — but now they ran the way Denise had always prayed they would: straight, legal, boring in the best way.
Some afternoons, Elijah and Stack sat at her kitchen table with laptops open, cold coffee forgotten, property listings spread across the wood like puzzle pieces.
“Foreclosure on Ridgeview,” Elijah said, tapping a photo. “Three-bedroom. Roof shot. Plumbin’ worse. But the bones solid.”
Stack leaned back, pen cap between his teeth. “Neighborhood ain’t bad. Schools decent. Highway close.”
“For real this time?” Elijah asked quietly. “A future that don’t end with sirens?”
Stack didn’t answer right away.
He didn’t have to.
The heist money sat locked away — untouched, heavy with what it had cost, but no longer the center of every thought.
The conversation shifted slowly.
From Should we?
To If we do this right…
Something new was taking shape.
On the softer side of town, Annie and Denise were building something of their own.
They talked once or twice a week — quick check-ins that turned into long conversations without either of them noticing. Denise asked about shifts. Annie asked about her energy levels. Recipes were shared. Jokes traded.
One afternoon Annie mentioned Elijah folding laundry with near-military precision, color-coding socks without realizing he was doing it.
Denise laughed so hard she had to sit down.
“That boy been lookin’ for control his whole life,” she said. “If he can’t fix the world, he’ll fold it.”
One Thursday, Annie picked Denise up and took her to a café washed in sunlight — lemon-yellow tables, wide windows, the smell of coffee strong enough to cut through the afternoon lull.
Denise wore a soft denim shirt and hoop earrings, her smile easy even through the fatigue she didn’t bother hiding.
They talked for hours.
About childhood. About men who disappointed and men who surprised. About the twins — Denise filling in pieces Annie hadn’t known, Annie offering stories Denise had never seen.
“He been runnin’ from himself a long time,” Denise said gently, stirring sugar into her cup. “But he ain’t runnin’ from you.”
Annie didn’t answer right away.
She didn’t know how.
So she smiled, nodded, and tucked the words somewhere close — a quiet truth she could hold onto when things got heavy.
And through it all, Annie and Elijah stayed… solid.
Not loud about it. Not performative. Just steady in a way that surprised them both.
They fell into a rhythm that didn’t feel like routine — more like something they’d always been circling finally clicking into place. Elijah slept at her apartment more nights than he didn’t, his presence settling into the rooms the way furniture eventually does: first noticeable, then necessary.
Some evenings he cooked.
Not flashy meals. Just food that filled the space with warmth — chicken seasoned just right, rice fluffed and steaming, vegetables sautéed until they still had a bite. He moved through her kitchen barefoot, sleeves rolled, dish towel slung over his shoulder like he belonged there. He didn’t talk much while he cooked, just nodded when she asked questions, brushed past her with a hand at her lower back like muscle memory.
Other nights Annie cooked, humming without realizing it, and Elijah followed behind her, collecting used spoons and bowls, pressing slow kisses to the side of her neck whenever he passed close enough. He liked the way she leaned into him without thinking. Liked that she didn’t flinch when he reached for her. Liked that she trusted the quiet.
They ate at the small table or on the couch, legs tangled, news murmuring low in the background. Sometimes they talked about their days. Sometimes they didn’t talk at all.
Sleep came easier together.
Not the desperate kind. Not the kind that knocks you out from exhaustion. But the deep, peaceful rest that only happens when your body finally believes it’s safe. Elijah slept heavier than he had in years, arm thrown over her waist, breath slow and even. Annie woke sometimes just to watch his chest rise and fall, grounding herself in the proof that he was here — alive, warm, real.
Arguments happened.
Small ones. Normal ones.
Grocery lists left on the counter. Laundry folded “wrong.” Elijah fixing things she hadn’t asked him to fix, hovering when she just wanted space. Voices lifted, brows furrowed.
But apologies came quickly.
Hands reached out sooner than pride could settle in. They learned each other’s tells — when to speak, when to back off, when to pull closer instead of pushing through.
Underneath all that softness, though, something else stirred.
Annie didn’t feel right.
At first she blamed the schedule — double shifts stacked too close together, too many nights running on caffeine and adrenaline. The emotional crash after weeks of fear and holding herself together for everyone else.
Her stomach rolled in the mornings. Coffee, once sacred, made her gag halfway through the first sip. Certain smells — bleach, reheated food, Elijah’s cologne if it lingered too strong — turned her stomach without warning.
She told herself it was stress.
Her scrubs felt tighter some days. Her appetite dipped, then spiked. She brushed it off, joked about it, ignored the way her body felt unfamiliar in small, unsettling ways.
Until brushing it off didn’t work anymore.
Until the nausea lingered.
Until the dizziness came when she stood too fast.
All of that stayed in the background — quiet, waiting.
Not screaming yet.
Just growing.
It started on a Wednesday.
Annie and Monica sat side by side at the nurses’ station, drowning in charts and orders. The hospital hummed in its usual organized chaos — phones ringing, wheels squeaking on waxed linoleum, the overhead speaker paging doctors every five minutes. A code cart rattled past. Someone laughed down the hall. Fluorescent lights buzzed like they were two seconds from giving up.
But Monica was the quietest thing in the room.
Normally, she kept the floor alive — cracking jokes, doing her little two-step when her favorite song played in her head, rolling her eyes dramatically every time Dr. Ellis said something stupid. Today, she clicked through patient charts with a stiff jaw and eyes that refused to land anywhere for long.
“You okay?” Annie asked, tapping in her password.
“Mm-hmm.” Monica didn’t look up.
“You lyin’.”
“I’m workin’,” Monica snapped — too sharp. Then, gentler: “I’m fine, boo. Just tired.”
Annie raised an eyebrow but let it slide. She’d circle back later.
A wave of nausea curled through her stomach. She pressed her lips together, swallowing hard, reaching for the ginger candies she kept in her scrub pocket.
“That the third one you’ve had in an hour,” Monica muttered.
“Fourth,” Annie said under her breath. “Mind ya business.”
Monica opened her mouth to tease — but whatever comment was coming died halfway. She shut down again, shoulders tight, jaw tighter.
Her mind slipped back to a few weeks ago.
She woke up to early light and an empty bed.
Stack’s side of the mattress was cold — not cooling, cold — the kind of absence that made itself obvious. His jeans were gone from the chair. The faint trace of his cologne clung to the pillow beside her, ghostlike, taunting.
For a moment she just lay there, blinking at the ceiling, letting the memory of the night wash over her in pieces:
His hands spreading over her hips like he was afraid she might vanish.
His mouth at her throat, whispering things he’d never say in daylight.
The way he held her after—tight, strong—like he was a man who didn’t intend to go anywhere.
She’d believed him.
Just for a few hours, she’d let herself believe him.
Then morning arrived, and so did the truth.
The clock ticking.
The empty air.
The hollow dent his body left in the mattress.
She grabbed her phone off the nightstand, heart stupid enough to hope.
No missed calls.
No text.
She typed: You good?
Deleted it.
She typed: Where you at?
Deleted that too.
Her thumb hovered over his name, willing the man from last night to answer instead of the version she knew she’d get in daylight—
the storyteller,
the charmer,
the man Annie warned her about.
The one who made every woman feel chosen until he disappeared.
Tears pricked, hot and humiliating. She blinked them back.
Her phone lit up.
Terrance ♣️
A different kind of man.
A different kind of love.
A safe one.
One she didn’t have to chase.
She wiped her eyes quickly, forced steel into her voice before answering.
“Hey, baby,” she said, bright and easy, like her chest wasn’t splitting open. “What you doin’?”
Terrance talked—work stories, plans for dinner, a coworker acting up.
She murmured “mmhm,” twisted the bedsheet around her fingers, and tried not to fall apart.
When they hung up, she laid back in the bed and stared at the ceiling, the ache settling deep.
Annie’s voice drifted back to her:
Just… be careful, Mo. Don’t be another one in his roster.
Too late.
“Mo.”
Monica blinked, snapping back into fluorescent reality. Annie was watching her now, the chart long forgotten in her hand.
Annie frowned. “Seriously, what’s—”
“Bitch, I said I’m fine.”
The words cracked out harsher than Monica intended, slicing the air.
Annie froze. “Bitch, who you callin’—”
But mid-sentence her stomach flipped again, hot and sudden, and she swallowed hard, pressing a hand to her middle.
She inhaled slowly, then said, “You know what? I’m gonna leave you all the way alone today. ’Cause clearly you got somethin’ goin’ on, and I’m two seconds from snappin’ back.”
Monica’s guilt rose instantly, choking her. “Annie… I ain’t mean it like—”
“It’s fine,” Annie said, eyes on the chart.
It was absolutely not fine.
Before Monica could try again, Annie shook her head once — not dismissing her, just… choosing not to push.
Because she recognized this kind of hurt.
She’d seen it in herself a time or two dozen — dressed up in work, wrapped in attitude, acting stronger than it felt.
And whatever was going on with Monica?
Yeah.
Annie didn’t need details to know whose name sat at the center of it.
This had Stack written all over it.
Before either of them could say another word—
A smooth, voice rolled across the station.
“Evenin’, ladies.”
Both women looked up.
Monica lit up first. “DARIUS?! Boy, what the hell—?!”
She jumped up and hugged him.
Annie’s jaw dropped.
Darius. Club Darius.
In dark blue scrubs. White coat. ID badge gleaming. Stethoscope loose around his neck.
He grinned, arms spreading as he took a step back in his new scrubs, badge clipped to his chest.
“What are you doing here,” Monica said still in shock.
“Residency,” he said, tapping his badge. “Internal medicine. Started last week.”
Monica smacked his arm. “Terrance said you were staying in Oxford!”
He shrugged. “Plans changed last minute. Didn’t have time to update the group chat.”
Annie blinked like her brain needed three seconds to update the software.
“…Darius?”
He grinned. “Knew that was you. Annie, right?”
She nodded, caught completely off guard. “I didn’t know you were becoming a doctor,” she managed.
“Yeah,” he said, leaning an elbow on the counter. “We were kinda… interrupted before we had time to actually talk,” he said with a teasing smile.
Interrupted.
Heat crept up her neck as the memory fully landed —
The club.
His hands on her hips, the way he’d leaned in close.
Elijah sliding between them with possessive silence and a look that said mine long before the word had ever been spoken.
Her own traitorous heartbeat agreeing with him.
She laughed — awkward, small. “Yeah… I remember.”
Darius gave her a once-over, warm and a little bold. “It’s good seeing you again, Annie. Really good.”
Beside Annie, Monica’s eyebrows lifted — not jealous, not messy, but observing. Filing something away.
“Congratulations,” Annie blurted, trying to get control of her face. “That’s huge.”
“Thank you.” He studied her face a moment. “You on this floor?”
“Been here awhile,” she said, lifting her badge. “Night shifts, mostly.”
“Then I guess I’ll be seein’ you around,” he said, easy charm in his tone. “Kinda glad I ran into you. Been thinking ‘bout that night.”
Annie’s stomach did a little flip that had nothing to do with nausea. She shifted her weight, fingers fiddling with her lanyard.
“Well,” she said, smiling politely, “you’ll definitely see me. Since I work here.”
Darius chuckled, shaking his head. “Right. Forgot that part.” He glanced at his watch. “Well ladies, duty calls. Monica, I’ll be seeing you. Annie—”
He paused, tone dipping softer. “It really is good to see you again.”
Then he headed toward the elevators, white coat swinging behind him.
For a moment, the past slid its shadow over the present — the club lights, his hands at her waist, Elijah’s body cutting between them like instinct.
Annie stood there, steadying herself with a breath she didn’t realize she held.
Her heart wasn’t confused — Elijah had long since claimed that space without asking — but the universe clearly enjoyed reminding her what could have been in some other timeline.
As soon as Darius was out of earshot, Annie elbowed Monica.
“Girl,” she whispered. “Why you ain’t tell me Darius work here?”
Monica blinked, still a little stunned. “I didn’t know! I knew he graduated from Ole Miss, but last Terrance told me, he was stayin’ in Oxford for residency. I didn’t know he ended up here.”
Annie stared toward the elevator where Darius disappeared, then back at Monica.
“Well… surprise.”
“What the hell kinda episode of Grey’s Anatomy: Hood Edition did we just walk into,” Monica snorted. “This hospital too damn small for all this fine-ass nigga drama. I swear to God.”
Annie tried to laugh — and failed. Her stomach lurched violently.
She stood fast, chair scraping loudly.
“Oh—nope. Bathroom,” she gasped, bolting down the hall.
Monica’s eyes widened. “Oh shit—”
By the time Annie reached the staff restroom, she barely made it before the nausea won. When she was done, she rinsed her mouth at the sink, gripping the counter as her reflection swam.
When Annie cracked the door, Monica’s whole demeanor changed.
Monica took one look and whispered, horrified:
“That ain’t the flu.”
Annie blinked at her. “What?”
“Girl,” Monica said flatly, eyes narrowing at her, “that is morning sickness. You’ve been a nurse long enough to know the signs. You work here. Don’t play dumb with me — you just don’t wanna hear it yet.”
“I’m on the pill,” Annie whispered, like saying it softer might make it truer. “We’re careful. Me and Elijah—”
She stopped.
Because she couldn’t remember the last time she’d taken one.
Not after the heist and shootout.
Not after the funerals
Not even after the nights Elijah came home quiet and needed her close just to sleep.
Her chest tightened.
Monica noticed and grabbed her hand.
“Come on,” she said. “We’re taking a test.”
“Mo—”
Annie stared at her.
Monica squeezed her hand.
“I got you. Let’s go.”
And she led Annie down the hall —
—just as, across town, Elijah Moore stared at a velvet-lined box and wondered if a ring was enough to say I’m yours.
They’d talked about it casually at first — in the middle of one of their new Sunday dinners at Denise’s house.
Elijah mentioned it the way men mention things they’ve already decided: quiet, almost offhand.
“I think I’m gon’ ask Annie to marry me,” he’d said, staring at his plate.
Denise had choked on her sweet tea. Stack damn near dropped a roll.
Now here they were — three Moores stepping into a small jewelry shop tucked between a bakery and an antique store. A place Denise swore had “real taste,” none of that gaudy nonsense she knew her son would hate.
The bell over the door chimed as they entered.
Elijah paused just inside, jaw tight. His palms suddenly felt too warm. Too visible.
He had faced gunfire, death, betrayal — but this?
This made his breath stutter.
Denise slid her arm through his.
“Baby, you look like you ‘bout to rob the place,” she whispered.
“Breathe.”
Stack barked out a laugh. “Yeah, relax, damn. You ain’t askin’ her Papaw today. We just ring shoppin’.”
Elijah shot him a look, but said nothing.
They walked to the glass cases. Rings glittered under soft lighting — halos, clusters, diamonds the size of Stack’s ego.
But none of them felt right.
Elijah leaned down, jaw working as he stared.
Too loud.
Too cold.
Too… not her.
The sales associate, a soft-spoken Black woman in her mid-fifties with glasses low on her nose, approached the trio.
“Looking for anything special today?” she asked.
Denise grinned. “My son here about to make somebody Mrs. Moore.”
Elijah muttered, “Ma…” but she swatted the air.
The associate smiled warmly. “Tell me about her.”
Elijah opened his mouth — and the words came easier than he expected.
“She don’t like flash,” he said. “She like… things with meaning. Things that feel lived-in, not bought to show off. And she soft, but strong. Real strong. The kinda woman you see in the dark before you see her in the light.”
“She deserves somethin’ that feel… honest. Beautiful without tryin’. Quiet, but it stay with you.”
The associate pressed a hand over her heart.
“Ooooh, he in love love.”
Denise smirked, rubbing Elijah’s arm while saying, “Yes. Yes he is..”
The associate nodded thoughtfully.
“I think I might have something that fits what you’re describing. It just came in yesterday. Wasn’t even planning to put it on display until next week.”
She disappeared into the back.
Elijah paced once. Twice.
Hands in pockets.
Hands out of pockets.
Breathing too shallow.
Stack leaned against the case, arms crossed.
“You nervous?”
“No.”
Stack grinned. “You lyin’ through your teeth.”
Denise nudged Elijah’s side.
“Baby, it’s supposed to scare you. Means it’s real.”
Before he could respond, the associate returned — with a small black velvet tray.
She set it down gently.
Inside was a ring that didn’t scream.
It whispered.
A thin gold band.
An oval diamond, clear as morning water.
Simple, elegant, timeless — exactly the kind of beauty that would sit on Annie’s hand like it had always been there. The kind of ring you only noticed twice: the first time, and every time after.
Elijah’s breath left him in one slow exhale.
“That’s it,” he said quietly. “That’s… her.”
Denise’s hand flew to her mouth. “Oh my God… Elijah. That is Annie all day.”
Stack clapped Elijah on the back — hard enough to jolt him.
“That’s the one, bruh. If she don’t say yes, I will.”
Denise slapped Stack’s arm. “Hush yo’ mouth.”
But Elijah wasn’t listening to them.
He wasn’t in the store anymore.
He was seeing Annie — laughing, arguing, making love, soft in the morning light, strong enough to hold him through every dark thing he’d tried to outrun.
He could see the ring on her hand already.
He could see the life he wanted with her.
He swallowed hard and nodded.
“Wrap it,” he told the associate.
His voice didn’t shake.
Not once.
Later that night, Elijah sat on Annie’s couch with the lights low. The ring box rested on the coffee table in front of him — small, black, and somehow heavier than anything he’d ever carried in his life.
The apartment still smelled faintly of her — vanilla lotion, lavender detergent, the faint citrus body spray she used before shifts. Her folded throw blanket was draped over the arm of the couch, one of her nursing textbooks half-open on the ottoman, a pair of her scrubs tossed over the back of a chair because she never remembered where she took them off.
Home lived here.
He lived here — or at least, he felt himself slowly becoming someone who could.
But right now?
His stomach was a fist.
Annie was still at work, probably halfway through her shift, probably telling someone’s grandmother to stop pulling out her IV, probably laughing at Monica over some nonsense, probably pushing through whatever weird “flu” she thought she had.
She had no idea what he was about to do.
Elijah leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. Rubbed his palms together. Blew out a breath.
He’d faced down armed men, walked into fire, stood inches from death more times than any human deserved.
But asking for a woman’s hand — this woman’s hand?
It shook something loose in him he didn’t know how to name.
He ran a thumb over the velvet box, tracing the edges. He could still hear Denise’s voice in his head from earlier:
“Baby, she gon’ feel this one in her spirit.”
And Stack’s voice, annoying and supportive all at once:
“She say no, I’m taking that damn ring.”
He almost laughed.
Almost.
Instead, he sat back. Looked at the silent apartment around him. Looked at her ring. Looked at the life he was trying to build.
His phone buzzed on the cushion beside him — a text from Annie.
Annie:
You up? We’re swamped tonight.
Elijah swallowed, thumbs hovering over the keys.
Elijah:
I’m up. You aight, feeling any better?
Pause. Three dots. Disappeared. Three dots. Disappeared. Then—
Annie:
I’m okay. How’s your night?
He stared at that message a long second.
How’s your night?
Just planning our future, sweetheart.
He typed:
Elijah:
Thinkin bout you.
He didn’t add anything else. Couldn’t. His chest was too full.
He locked his phone, set it aside, and leaned back again — staring at the ceiling like it might answer a question for him.
He needed to make the call.
Denise loved the ring. Stack approved. He had the box. He had the future.
All that was left was the family.
Her family.
Elijah lifted the phone again, his thumb hovering over the name Landry Lavigne. His pulse kicked.
This was the step that mattered.
This was the moment that made it real.
He inhaled, long and steady.
Then he hit FaceTime.
The call rang once.
Twice.
Then the screen filled with Landry Lavigne’s face — worn, familiar, eyes bright under the brim of his ever-present cap.
And Elijah sat up straighter — ready to ask for the most important yes of his life.
“Elijah,” Landry said, squinting at the camera. “Boy, you holdin’ the phone too close. Back up. I can see yo’ pores.”
Elijah chuckled and shifted. “Evenin’, Mr. Lavigne.”
Merlyn Lavigne slid into view, wiping her hands on a towel.
“Eh, who dat? …Ooh look at my grandson-in-law.”
Elijah’s ears warmed. “Ain’t earned that yet, ma’am.”
Behind them, Audrick appeared, face curious but reserved.
“Aye. If it ain’t Mister Mississippi. You takin’ care of my sister?”
“I’m tryin’,” Elijah said honestly. “Every day.”
Landry leaned closer, expression shifting from playful to serious.
“You callin’ for a reason, son?”
Elijah sat straighter.
“Yes sir. I am.”
The room got quiet — the kind of quiet that demanded truth.
He spoke without rushing:
“I wanted to ask y’all’s permission to marry Annie. I love her and I wanna spend the rest of my life makin’ sure she feel safe, protected, and loved.”
Merlyn’s eyes softened.
Landry’s mouth pressed into a thoughtful line.
But Audrick?
He stared hard — protective, evaluating, not convinced yet.
Merlyn spoke first.
“Do you know what it means to love a woman like my granddaughter?” Merlyn asked finally. “She come from a long line of women who carry whole families on their backs.”
“Yes ma’am,” Elijah said. “That’s why I wanna build somethin’ strong so she don’t gotta carry it alone.”
Landry nodded but didn’t smile.
“You got ghosts on you, boy,” he said, not unkind. “I saw it when you came down here. That don’t scare me, I told ya that. I just need to know: you gon’ keep them ghosts outside my baby girl’s house?”
Elijah’s throat tightened. Annie’s words echoed in his head, and Mr. Lavigne’s from the fishing boat. Make sure nothin’ touches her.
“I swear to you. Whatever come for me… will never touch her.”
Audrick finally spoke.
“I love my sister,” he said, voice low. “She deserves the world. I ain’t playin’ about her. If you ever give me a reason not to trust you—”
“Audrick,” Merlyn warned.
Elijah didn’t flinch.
“You got my word,” he said to Audrick directly. “Ain’t nobody ever gon’ hurt her. Not even me.”
The thought came anyway — uninvited.
I already have.
His jaw tightened as the truth passed through him — the past, the mess he brought into her life before he learned how to protect what mattered.
He hadn’t touched Annie with cruelty.
But hurt didn’t always need hands.
He met Audrick’s eyes and held them.
This time would be different.
It had to be.
Audrick watched him another long moment…
Then nodded once.
Landry exhaled, decision settling across his face.
“You got our permission,” he said. “But you hurt her, I got a boat hook with yo’ name on it.”
“Now send me a picture of the ring. I wanna see if you got taste.”
Elijah laughed.
“I got a better idea.”
He lifted the phone, flipped the camera — and showed them the ring glinting in its velvet box.
Merlyn gasped.
Landry grunted approval.
Audrick gave the smallest smirk.
And Annie at work, she had no idea how quickly her life was about to change.
Elijah sat up a little straighter. “Before I let y’all go… there’s something else I was hoping to ask.”
The nausea came back harder by the time Annie and Monica made it to the break room. The moment the door shut behind them, Monica spun on her heel.
“Sit,” she ordered.
“Monica—”
“Sit yo’ ass,” Monica repeated, pointing at a chair like she was scolding a toddler or a misbehaving golden retriever.
Annie sat.
Monica planted her hands on her hips, exhaled once like she was preparing for war, then marched toward the hallway.
“Where you goin’?!” Annie called after her.
“To assemble the team!” Monica shouted back.
Annie blinked. “What team?”
Before she could get up and follow, Monica returned with two women in tow.
Stacy O’Malley, one of the day-shift nurses — blonde ponytail, mother of four, walking embodiment of organized chaos — stepped inside with her water bottle and a skeptical look.
“I swear to God, if it’s another mandatory in-service—”
“It’s not,” Monica cut in. “It’s TikTok business.”
Behind her was Mrs. Donna, sixty-two, orthopedic queen, blunt as a hammer, sass sharp as a scalpel.
“If this is them little dances again, count me out. My knees ain’t built for that.”
Monica closed the door, spun around, and clapped her hands together.
“Ladies. We are playin’ Pregnancy Test Roulette.”
Mrs. Donna blinked once. “The hell is that?”
Stacy choked. “Oh! I’ve seen that! It’s where everybody takes a pregnancy test at the same time, and you find out…” she paused. “Hold up — who’s pregnant?”
“That’s what we’re findin’ out,” Monica said, like it was obvious. Then she jabbed a thumb toward Annie. “My girl here been nauseous, exhausted, and eatin’ ginger candies like they Skittles.”
Annie groaned. “Monica, I told you —
“Hush,” Monica said, waving that off. “Because clearly your nurse brain clocked out early today. The smell of coffee has you ready to throw hands.”
It’s the flu,” Annie muttered.
Stacy leaned against a locker, snorting. “Hon, I got four kids and a husband who swore he was pulling out for ten years. That ain’t the flu.”
Donna raised a brow. “You pregnant, Annie, honey?”
“No!” Annie said quickly. Too quickly. “I’m… on the pill, Mrs. Donna.”
Monica cocked her head. “Have you taken the pill?”
“Yes,” Annie said automatically.
Then her face shifted.
Had she?
Between the heist, Elijah staying over almost every night, the stress, the sex — the amount of sex — her mind scrambled through the days like a shuffled deck.
Annie swallowed hard.
Her voice dropped.
“…I don’t remember.”
Stacy clapped. “Oh yeah. She’s pregnant.”
“It’s the flu.”
“You ain’t got the flu,” Stacy said flatly, unscrewing her water like she’d diagnosed Annie already. “I’ve had four kids. I know flu from fetus.”
Donna squinted at Annie’s face, hummed thoughtfully, then nodded to herself. “Mm-hmm,” she said. “Your skin’s lookin’ real glowy.”
Annie blinked. “Glowy?”
Donna waved a hand. “Yeah. That could be pregnancy glow or heartbreak glow—but Monica’s the only one lookin’ like somebody sold her a dream and kept the receipt, so…” She pointed at Annie. “This one… probably pregnant.”
“HEY!” Monica snapped, heat flashing across her face.
She didn’t deny it though.
“I’m not pregnant!” Annie insisted again. “Why are we doing this TikTok shit? I can just take a test like a normal sane person—”
“No,” Monica said, planting her hands on her hips. “We are takin’ these tests together so you don’t panic alone. Plus it’s fun. TikTok said this is bonding.”
Donna sighed. “Lord help us.”
Stacy pointed at herself proudly. “I can’t get pregnant anyway. Had my tubes clipped, tied, and burnt after Mike tried to knock me up during tax season. I said hell no. Matter fact, he got a vasectomy too. Belt and suspenders.”
Mrs. Donna snorted. “Hun, my husband ain’t touched me since Obama’s first term.”
They all cracked up — even Annie, a little — because the ridiculousness was the only thing keeping her from shaking.
Annie buried her face in her hands. “Why is this happening.”
“’Cause you in denial,” Monica said, plopping a grocery bag of boxed tests on the table. Where the hell had she even gotten those?!
“You stole those from the supply closet?” Annie hissed.
“I borrowed them,” Monica corrected.
Donna snorted. “Honey, everything in this hospital borrowed.”
Stacy grabbed a test and waved it. “Okay, but how do we know whose test is whose? On TikTok they shuffle ’em.”
Monica nodded. “Exactly the plan.”
Donna crossed her arms. “Well if mine come back positive, it’s the second coming of Christ, and y’all better bow.”
Annie groaned. “I don’t want an audience for this!”
“You’re getting one,” Monica said, hauling her up by the wrist. “Now come on. Pee on the damn stick.”
Annie dragged a hand down her face. “This is ridiculous.”
“Girl, shut up and choose your destiny,” Monica said, handing her a test.
The four women filed into the hallway bathroom like they were preparing for battle.
Stacy passed out cups.
Donna prayed dramatically over hers.
Monica paced.
Annie stared at the test like it was a live explosive.
They dispersed to stalls.
When they were done, all four tests were placed face-down on a paper towel in the break room.
Monica set the timer on her phone.
Three minutes.
The longest of Annie’s life.
She sat in the corner, knees pulled up, hands clasped between them. Her mind spun.
If I’m pregnant…
Elijah’s past — she who shall not be named, the trauma, the ghosts — is all that behind us?
Are we ready for this?
Am I ready for this?
Is he?
Her stomach clenched.
Not from nausea this time — from fear. And want. And something tender she wasn’t ready to name.
Monica watched her quietly, guilt softening her face. She nudged Annie’s knee with her own.
“Hey,” she murmured. “Whatever it says… you not alone, okay?”
Annie nodded without lifting her head.
The timer went off.
Everyone froze.
Monica inhaled like she was about to perform open-heart surgery. “Okay. On three.”
“Girl just flip the damn things,” Donna muttered.
Monica flipped all four tests at once.
Silence.
Then—
“Oh shit,” Stacy whispered.
Two tests showed positive.
Two.
Annie’s throat closed.
Monica looked at the tests… then at Annie… then at the tests again.
“No,” Monica whispered, lifting the test like it might change. “No, that’s not— I can’t be pregnant. Terrance and I haven’t—”
She stopped short, color draining from her face.
Her eyes widened.
Her hand went to her mouth.
“…oh my God.”
She froze.
Annie’s breath caught so hard it felt like it locked behind her ribs.
Her fingers trembled as she lifted the second test — the one she hadn’t wanted to look at first.
Two lines.
Clear. Unmistakable.
Monica slowly lowered her test.
Annie lowered hers.
They looked at each other again.
Donna whispered, “Well… shit.”
Stacy fanned herself. “Jesus. Mary and Joseph. Somebody call Maury.”
Annie swallowed, chest rising shallow as she stared at the plastic sticks like it might change if she looked long enough.
It didn’t
She was pregnant.
Emotion swelled behind her ribs — fear, hope, disbelief, love, all tangled together.
Annie’s knees wobbled, and she grabbed the back of one of the chairs.
She wasn’t ready to speak.
She wasn’t ready to breathe.
Two tests.
Two pink plus signs.
Two lives tilting at once.
And outside that break room, Elijah was ring-shopping.
Planning a proposal.
Building a future.
With no idea that the future might already be here.
Inside her scrub pocket, her phone buzzed.
Elijah:
On my way to pick you up, baby. You need anything?
Flirty Smoke X Cautious Annie | A Modern AU Drabble
First drabble is ↪︎ here
The one where Annie’s heart is still flipping in her chest, Smoke is more sprung than he was a week ago, and less than a hour at the gym ends with feelings growing and insight gained.
A/n ~ For those who wanted a little part 2, thank the madness that goes on in my head, b/c apparently this is what I’m fixated on right now lol. Y’all won, just this once. This is a lot of me just continuing to figure them out (5.8k words). Enjoyyy 🫶🏾 or don’t 😬
C/w ~ Cursing
It wasn’t even 9 in the morning yet and the Delta was already doing too much. Sun in the sky, shooting off rays like it had an attitude, before people even started rolling out of bed. Annie had checked the temperature when she got up — stepping out on her balcony just to make a U-turn back inside three minutes later. It was gone be hot today. Not the kind of hot that just hugged either. It was gone be the kind that suffocated.
And she wasn’t dealing with that, until she absolutely had to.
Which was why she was in her foyer now, on her way out the door and running through her check list.
Phone — check.
Keys — check.
Water Bottle — check.
Disinfectant wipes — che-
“Dammit,” Annie cursed, pausing and then pivoting, New Balance covered feet carrying her from the small foyer, deeper into her kitchen, where a pack of wipes rested on granite countertop.
She’d decided this morning it’d be one of her sporadic gym days.
And she was already regretting it.
It wasn’t Annie’s preferred setting of exercise — four confining walls that stank of sweat and people’s failed promises to self, but when it was too hot to walk her usual trails, like today, and pulling out her yoga mat didn’t appeal, she dealt with it. Three times a week and three times a week only.
No more than that because, to be clear, working out was nothing but a chore — one that left her hot, sweaty, and tired. She did it, not ‘cause she particularly liked it, but because ‘health is wealth’ and all that. At least, that’s what they said.
Annie swiped her wipes off the counter and then turned, long legs striding back towards her door without lingering, because if she even glanced towards her couch again — all soft cushions and plush throw pillows — she would not be making it downstairs.
By the time she was back in her foyer, her checklist was re-ran through.
Phone — in the pocket of her leggings.
Keys — hanging off her finger.
Water bottle — in hand.
Disinfectant wipes — in the other hand.
She was good.
Annie stepped out her apartment, lips pursed like she had a problem with a gym she wasn’t in yet.
The hall was short, lighting more warm than bright, and that usual subtle floral scent lingered — less natural and more artificial smelling, like air freshener. Annie breathed through it, grumbling to herself as she faced her door, key in hand, ready to lock up, “You’ll be in and out. Thirty minutes max.”
She was so focused on trying, and failing, to hype herself up, she hadn’t even noticed the door across from her opening.
“What got you over there soundin’ mad this early?”
A soft clink rang out as her keys hit carpet. Water bottle damn near meeting the same fate, if not for Annie’s fumbling that saved it.
“Dammit Smoke.” Her head whipped over her shoulder, lips turned down, thick sculpted brows furrowing. “Why don’t you ever make noise when you move??”
Smoke was leaned against his door jam, arms crossed, dark eyes alert, per usual. And soft — just a little around the edges, in a way that wasn’t so usual. In a way that was just hers.
“My bad,” Smoke used his shoulder to push off the door, slides on his feet bringing him across the muted grey and blue carpet. Bringing him right into her space. “I ain’t mean to scare you.”
Annie fought to keep her lips turned down as he bent to grab her keys. Knew she was probably gone lose that battle, soon as he raised back up and held them out. “Am I forgiven?”
“Hm.” Annie shifted her water bottle to the crook of her elbow, reaching to take the fluffy keychain back. And their hands brushed as she did so, sliding against each other’s in a way that really wasn’t necessary to complete the exchange.
Warm.
Rough.
Big.
That’s how Smoke’s palms felt. Like he used ‘em. Like he was capable. Annie blinked slow, “You shouldn’t be. I done told you ‘bout sneakin’ up on me.”
“Wasn’t sneakin’.” And he hadn’t been. He’d been going to check his mail when he’d opened the door to her fussin’. Voice warm and irritated. “Was just saying good morning.”
Annie didn’t look convinced. “We been standing here for thirty seconds and you haven’t said that yet.”
Smoke rectified the situation, bending his head lower, lips barely curling up — in a way that was small. Personal. Just enough to make his dimples start to deepen, “Mornin’, Annie.”
Thick southern drawl, voice like gravel, deep, intentional. Real…pointed, even when he was just saying two words.
Thump.
She didn’t have time for this right now.
“Good morning, Smoke,” and then for her sanity, she turned away from him. Back towards her door to re-attempt locking up.
Smoke took her in from head to toe, peeped her water bottle, “Where you going? The gym?”
“Yes.” Annie slid her key out, after hearing the lock click.
“And you wasn’t gone tell yo’ gym partner?”
She looked right back at him then, brows raising high, an incredulous laugh leaving her mouth. Loud and appalled. “You are not my gym partner. Not after last time.”
And she meant it. Annie had ended up in the gym with Smoke on one occurrence, coincidentally, and she’d vowed it’d never happen again. For starters — he was distracting. Throwing weights around like it was easy, sweating and looking good while doing it, grunting all low every time he went in for another pull up. The second reason? Mr. Smooth and quiet got real vocal when he was in the gym — turned into a damn drill sergeant actually.
“Stop being lazy, you can take more weight than that.”
“Deeper Annie. Stop squatting like you scared yo’ knees gone break.”
“Nah, yo’ form not right. That one don’t even count. Run it again.”
“I’m not training for the Olympics Smoke, damn!”
“I know that.”
“Okay then —”
“Know yo’ mama taught you if you was gone do something, to do it right too.”
“I — you did not just bring my mama into this!”
“One more Annie. Let’s go.”
It’d taken her a whole….48 hours to lose her attitude with him after that. Had taken an entire week for her body to stop hurting. Moral of the story? She was not putting herself back in that predicament.
Smoke squinted. A very subtle tell that he was amused. One that Annie knew well. Her hip poked out as he spoke, “It wasn’t that bad Annie.”
“Yes it was. Just because you all —” she gestured up and down his body “Doesn’t mean I’m tryna be. You not about to have me running drills like I’m in bootcamp.”
His lips curved up further. “Mm. And if I promise I won’t have you ‘runnin drills’?”
“Then I would still say you can’t come with me.”
Smoke wasn’t deterred. “I just wonna keep you company Annie.”
“While I’m on the treadmill, Smoke?”
“Won’t let me take you out. Least you can let me get another hour with that smile while we walk.” He didn’t say it like he was trying to be sweet. Just said it like he meant it. Like he’d do whateva’ — walk, run, shit backflip — just to get a little of her time.
Thump.
“Nobody is smiling.”
She was smiling.
“Yeah you is,” Smoke didn’t gloat about it. “I just wonna see it for a little longer is all.”
It was 8 in the morning and he was already starting.
Not that Annie could say she was surprised.
It’d been six months of this. Of Smoke refusing to let her forget that he wanted her — wanted a date, wanted time, wanted a chance. And after six months of her denying him that — he was still trying. Never complaining. Just continuously coming around. Looking at her all careful and focused, like she was something fragile he wanted to learn how to hold. Saying stuff, like what’d he’d just said, as if it didn’t shake her to her core. Shooting his shot — over and over and over again. Not cocky. Not pushy. Just steady. Just earning it.
She expected to be immune by now. Or at the very least, annoyed. Turned off. Wary. Anything other than what she was actually feeling.
Annie brought her hip back in. Stood up straight. Narrowed her eyes. “I’m not doing no squats, no jumping jacks, no pull ups, or no planks. We gone walk. At my pace. And when I say I’m done, I’m done.”
“Okay.” Smoke ain’t really take orders, so much as he gave them. But if Annie was doing the directing? He’d listen to every one. Let her regulate. For now.
Annie heard the smile wrapped around his ‘okay’, even if he wasn’t really showing it. Like he thought she was being cute or something. “Don’t be funny.”
“I’m laughing?”
He was all in her space. Smelling like cologne. Weed. Temptation. The kind that settles under skin slow, and makes you want, even when you tryna’ stay away.
If her hands weren’t full, she would have crossed her arms. Put up a barrier. Instead, she stepped back a little.
“Won’t nobody be laughing, we get in this gym and you start barking orders. Don’t make me get ugly.”
“Couldn’t do that if you tried.” That came out, like he was being sweet.
Thump.
“I’m glad you believe that,” her voice was unaffected, shoulders shrugging petty. “Don’t get in this gym and make me prove you wrong.”
They’d been in the gym less than 2 minutes and he was already trying to dictate.
“We needa stretch first.”
Annie cut her eyes at him. “All we’re doing is walking.”
“And stretchin’,” Smoke was already changing course, striding towards the right, instead of the left, where the treadmills stood.
Annie didn’t even pretend to be shocked at how this was going. Just shook her head, mumbling to herself. “His big head ass think just cause he fine, somebody gotta listen to him.” Her arms were crossed, feet still planted in one spot as she watched him move across the dark flooring. He held her water bottle in one hand, and her wipes in the other, stepped with his shoulders pulled back, head held high, steady gait screaming move or be moved — not rushed, just confident. Like he knew who the fuck he was.
It took Smoke t-minus 5 seconds to realize she wasn’t behind him. He stopped, looked over his shoulder, one thick brow raising.
“What chu’ doing?”
“What are you doing? What happened to you not tryna control my workout?”
“I’m not,” his eyes flicked over her disbelieving face, thick lips twitching. “I’m tryna make sure you don’t pull nothin’.”
“From walking?” She said it like ‘be serious’ and Smoke answered like he was.
“Crazier shit has happened Annie. Stretching ain’t gone kill you.”
She still didn’t move, except to bring her neck forward while she talked.
“Well, you could at least ask. That wouldn’t kill you.”
Smoke considered that. Then gave her what she wanted. Like usual. Turning to face her fully, tongue swiping his bottom lip, voice dripping like molasses it was so thick and sweet, when he spoke next, “Can you come stretch fuh’ me mama?”
This nigga done lost his damn mind.
Annie paused.
Thump.
Blinked.
Thump.
And that second beat? Hadn’t come from her chest.
Her brain stalled for a minute. Or an hour.
And then it came back online, “Is that normally how you get people to do your bidding? That works for you?”
Smoke’s head dropped to the left, “Normally people just do what I tell ‘em the first time.”
Thump.
She liked that. Could see that. Him commanding. Directing. All in that low, measured voice of his.
It wasn’t gone be her he commanded but still — she had to clear her throat all the same.
“Well I’m not people.”
“And I ain’t mad at that,” Smoke’s head remained cocked, eyes focused on hers. “Still want you stretch fuh’ me though. Give yo’ favorite neighbor some peace of mind, Annie.”
“Actually, Cornbread is my favorite.” But she moved anyways. Not for him, but because if he kept looking at her like that — talking to her like that — she’d end up doing something to him.
Annie moreso sauntered than walked, hips swaying in that way they always did, skin hot as she maneuvered through the gym.
The space was pretty much empty, sans for a woman on the stair master looking ready to fall over and a man on the leg press, scrolling through his phone rather than actually using the machine. There were floor to ceiling mirrors lining the right wall — glass wiped clean, no smudges in sight, ‘cause it was so early probably. On the wall adjacent to the right, rested equipment — weights, medicine balls, jump ropes. All placed neat on racks and all unappealing. To the left was where Annie had intended to go — that was where the treadmills stood. 3 of them, side by side, next to two stair masters, and directly in front of three large windows that looked outdoors.
She didn’t concern herself with the machines scattered around the middle of the floor — just continued moving towards the right, stopping when she reached the glass wall, gaze on Smoke in the mirror when he stepped up next to her.
She watched as he sat her items down, as he glanced in her direction, eyes squinting in that lil’ amused way of his.
“Cornbread huh? Who you in the gym with right now though?”
Thump.
Annie wasn’t about to play with him.
“Boy, what’s the first stretch?”
Smoke chuckled, a small sound, coming from somewhere deep in his chest. It was quiet, knowing.
“Mm. We doin’ quads first.”
The two stood side by side, bodies facing their reflections, as they mirrored each other. Smoke brought his hand back, grabbed his ankle, pulled up. Annie followed. She didn’t work out as hard as him, but she was more flexible. Had her heel touching her ass in seconds. Lashes fluttering at the burn. It felt good.
And feeling good, looked mesmerizing on Annie. Was something you couldn’t not be drawn too. Something you couldn’t not watch. Smoke didn’t so much watch though, as he did analyze. Stare unwavering on her in the mirror.
She had her hair pulled up, big curls high on top of her head. Was dressed in yellow today — leggings, matching long sleeve athletic jacket — both a soft flexible material that hugged every inch of her. The curve of her stomach, the fullness of her thighs, the swell of her hips. Annie was built soft. Everywhere. And she carried it, rather than letting it carry her. Even on days when she didn’t feel confident, she still moved unapologetically. Light and easy, like she ain’t have an extra pound on her. Like she dared somebody to tell her she wasn’t perfect. Like she knew how soft still appealed to some.
Smoke’s jaw ticked. Barely. Low eyes tracing her in the mirror, like he was building a map in his head. Figuring out how to work her, before he’d even touched her.
Yellow her color.
Annie looked like one of them sun flowers she was always buying — bright, bold, eye catching without trying. She needed a nigga that could handle that. That could hold all that soft up. That could protect all that bright without dimming it — protect that light she exhibited every time she smiled. Every time she laughed. Every time she breathed. Smoke could do that — protect, serve, worship her like it was his mufuckin’ duty. All he needed, was a chance.
Annie drooped her left leg, eyes opening — and meeting Smoke’s stare head on in the mirror.
He didn’t flinch. Didn’t look away. Just stared back, as he let his own leg drop.
Thump.
“Is there a reason you’re looking at me like that?” Annie didn’t know how she got her voice to sound that clear, when the look he was giving her — full of patience and promise — had her throat feeling so dry.
Smoke blinked slow. Answered honest.
“You look good in yellow. I like that set on you, is all.”
It didn’t really sound like that was all.
She wasn’t about to press for more though. For her sake.
“Thank you,” she forced her eyes away from his, looked away from the mirror and down at her clothes. “Resee got it for me. ”
“Hm,” his words were low. Slow. “Shout out Resee ‘den.”
“You not gone wipe it down?” Annie’s nose was wrinkled up, disgust so clear on her face, it pulled a laugh out of Smoke that caught them both off guard. It wasn’t low. Or careful. It was throaty, genuine. Made them dimples that were always barely showing? Cave in completely. Just for a few seconds.
The whole gym — Mr.phone scroller and Ms. Stairmaster included — disappeared as Annie stared.
Smoke wasn’t a robot. He laughed and smiled like anybody else. It wasn’t often he did it like this though. Open. Free. Like he didn’t have time to think about it, before it happened.
Annie’s heart didn’t thump as she took him in. It boomed. Hard. Insistent.
He asked me out smiling like that? I would have to say yes.
Smoke was looking at the ground, shoulders jumping and lips pulled up as he shook his head. Annie was…an enigma. Practical and to the point one second. A lil dramatic as hell the next. He liked it all.
“The treadmill not infected Annie,” he brought his eyes, still creased in the corners, back up to hers. “I’ll be ight.”
She didn’t have a response. Couldn’t think of one.
“What?” Smoke’s smile died a little. It was his turn to ask, “Why you lookin’ like that?”
And that was enough to snap her out of it.
She held out her wipes, brown orbs looking in his direction rather than directly at him now. She didn’t quite sound as casual as she hoped when she next spoke. “People are nasty, Smoke. Don’t be one of them.”
Annie was shook — Smoke could see it all over her — he just ain’t know why.
There was a beat of silence — not empty. Building.
And then Smoke took the pack, fingers brushing hers exactly how they had earlier.
By the time both machines were wiped down to her standards, Annie had regained her footing. Literally.
Her and Smoke walked side by side at a steady pace, treadmills humming low, both looking out the windows at the view — which wasn’t much — just parked cars, big oak trees, and too much sun.
Neither rushed to speak, and then, “I’m surprised I was able to get down here peacefully today. Yo’ brother love knocking on my door looking for breakfast.”
Smoke glanced at her, “Can’t believe you be having that nigga up before 11.“
“It’s my eggs. I can’t blame him.”
Smoke hmmed, like he couldn’t blame Stack either.
There was more walking after that. More quiet. Annie threw her own glance his way.
He’d changed before they came down. And sans the navy blue durag on his head, tied with precision to protect his braids, he was dressed in all black — Nikes, compression tank, athletic shorts that stopped a little above his knees. Smoke was built hard. Like power. Had broad shoulders, a wide chest, big arms — triceps and biceps corded with muscle. There wasn’t anything soft about him. ‘Cept when he smiled. And laughed. And was sitting on the floor between her legs, letting Annie take care of him.
She upped her speed on the treadmill. Just a little. Spoke, like she didn’t really care what his response to her next question was.
“Should I be offended you ain’t never with him in the mornings?”
Smoke’s head cocked at that. Gaze stayed on the trees outside.
“You saying you want me to be?”
“It’s just a question,” Annie shrugged. “Cause I know you know my cooking ain’t nasty.”
Smoke took his time responding. “I figure…you be having enough on yo plate. Dealing wit Stack and ‘nem. Playin’ hostess. Don’t wonna add to that.” And then, “I know I done said it before, but anytime you get tired of his ass and want that knocking on yo door shit to stop, let me know.”
Annie smirked, “I know how to kick Stack and everybody else out when I want too. I don’t mind the company though.” And she didn’t. “I’m an only child, grew up in quiet, so playin’ hostess to some chaos every now and then is alright.” Even if that chaos was three grown people sitting in her living room arguing over the Tv like toddlers.
She turned her head towards him. “And you knock on my door just as much as Stack. You just do it when ain’t nobody else there.”
“Cause I ‘ont care ‘bout seeing nobody else.”
Thump.
Annie shook her head, “Don’t be rude.”
Smoke shrugged. He was thinking. Storing information in that file in his head labeled ‘Annie’.
“Only child, huh?”
“Umhm,” Annie’s feet continued landing on the belt of her treadmill, soft thuds pouring out through the gym. “Only child. With barely any cousins. I had a lot of acquaintances though.”
Smoke turned that word over in his head. Acquaintances. Looked over at her — all high cheek bones and dark skin that looked like it’d been kissed by the sun itself. Even under the dingy ass gym lights.
“And friends?”
Annie met his stare, “What about ‘em?”
“Did you have ‘em growing up?”
“Damn, did you have friends growing up?” Annie laughed. Nervous sounding. Maybe a small amount of defensive. Like she didn’t know how to feel — about him asking questions and looking serious as hell as he waited for the answers.
Smoke kept it simple, “Yeah, there was 5 of us, includin’ Stack. I wasn’t concerned wit’ having no more than that. Yo turn.”
She laughed again — bemused. “Yes, I had friends Smoke. A couple people that deserved the title. Are you satisfied?”
“Nah,” he didn’t lie. “It’s a start though.”
“To what?”
“Gettin’ over that wall you like putting up.”
She hadn’t dropped her life story, but she’d said enough. Had told him more about her, without intending too. Told him some about what she valued. What she wasn’t quick to give — trust, connection, vulnerability.
Annie was friendly, accepting and embracing everyone, but she didn’t walk around open. Didn’t let herself be embraced by everyone, because that wasn’t a gift everyone deserved. Smoke understood that. Smoke could work with that.
Annie scoffed. Heart thumped — like it’d been called out. “I don’t put walls up.”
“You put walls up,” He wasn’t arguing. Just sounded like he was stating fact. “And you can keep puttin’ ‘em up. Walls, barricades, whateva’ else. Ima still be here.”
“You sound…” Crazy. Ridiculous. Stubborn. Exactly like what I need.
Annie floundered. Smoke assisted.
“I sound like a nigga who wonna take you out.” And I get what I want baby. Even when we going at yo pace.
She shifted her attention out the window. Then right back towards him. “Why do you even want to take me out so bad anyway?”
Smoke had asked himself that same question. Why he couldn’t get her out his head. Why it seemed like he already knew her and couldn’t ever know enough at the same time. Why he was so…settled in her presence. So alive. He didn’t really have the answers yet. He just knew what he felt.
Smoke chose his words carefully. Kept brief, what he didn’t yet know how to explain. “I wonna get to know you Annie.” His eyes were steady on hers. “We good together.”
“You can’t say that.” Her feet landed harder on the treadmill. “That you wanna get to know somebody when you’ve already decided we’re good together. That’s out of order.”
“Yeah.” She wasn’t wrong. “That’s our order though.”
Thump.
He said it like… it was what it was. Like they were already happening. Like their story was already written. He’d fully accepted it. And he was just waiting for Annie to finally catch up.
The two walked, this time down carpeted hallway, leaving the gym and heading towards the elevator. The thirty minutes of exercise had passed faster than they usually did for Annie. Thanks to Smoke.
They conversed for some of it, Annie keeping the conversation away from talk of dates and walls she didn’t have up. And when they weren’t speaking, they walked. Side by side, paces steady, quiet settling over them. It wasn’t uncomfortable silence — never was — but she hadn’t been completely at ease either. Because she had fluttering in her stomach that wouldn’t go away, heat in her cheeks he never let cool off for long, and a heart in her chest that wouldn’t stop thumping.
That thumped harder when they entered the elevator, doors sliding closed once she pressed ‘3’.
Smoke was looking at her. She could feel it — that ever persistent gaze studying the side of her face like he was tryna’ commit it to memory.
“Yes?” She faced him, one brow raised high.
“Thanks fuh letting me be yo’ gym partner today.”
Annie’s eyes rolled. “I’m glad you had fun working out. That makes one of us.”
“You saying you ain’t have fun wit’ me?”
“I’m saying I didn’t have fun working out.”
The elevator moved from the first floor to the second, as Smoke considered her. The two were about to go their separate ways. He had some business to handle. Annie had warmth to give out. He wouldn’t see her tell later today.
So, he shot his shot right there. For what had to be the tenth time.
“Gym not for everybody,” he shrugged once. “ I could show you a better time at dinner.”
Thump.
Annie couldn’t say she hadn’t expected it — him asking her out again.
She also couldn’t say she didn’t think about it, for a second longer than usual, before giving him the answer they both knew was coming.
“No thank you,” she forced a nonchalance she didn’t feel. “I’m full.”
Smoke took that in. And then, “It’s 9 in the morning Annie.”
“Ima be full later too.”
She was playing, falling into the familiar way they danced around each other. Or rather, the way she danced around him.
And for once, Smoke didn’t allow it.
“Why you scared to give me a chance?”
Ding.
Steel doors slid open as they reached the third floor, familiar blue/grey carpet and beige walls greeting them.
Not that either of them moved.
Smoke because he was waiting on an answer, dark eyes serious and tracking every non verbal cue she was trying to hide.
Annie because…well Annie was caught off guard. The little smile she’d had going, freezing then falling. The laugh she’d been about to let out dying in her throat. He’d asked soft and still his words were very very…loud, echoing in her head as she stood there.
“Why you scared to give me a chance?”
Silence settled between them. Still not empty. Still building.
And then she swallowed. Shifted. Made herself find words.
“I’m not scared.”
Those were the words she found. All three of ‘em. And then the elevator doors started sliding shut, like whatever was going on right now? They ain’t have time for it.
“Shit,” Annie took the distraction for the blessing it was, arm coming out more dramatic than it needed to and stopping the doors from closing. She glanced back as she stepped out, “Almost closed on us.”
Smoke didn’t give a fuck if the doors shut and never opened again, long as he got a straight answer. And that much was clear when he followed behind her, still pressing.
“Then what is it? What I’m doing, that’s putting you off?“
They stood in the hall now. Face to face. A change of setting with the same charged energy.
Annie crossed her arms. Just to give her something to do. Thought of a million responses, It can’t just be disinterest?, This how I get questioned after I let you work out with me?, Maybe I just don’t want you, boy.
But something about the way Smoke was looking at her — honest, open, resolute, made her speak truth.
“Smoke…I’ma be real. You’re…cool. A nice neighbor, maybe even a nice…friend? But anything else?” She shook her head. “You already seem like you got a lot going on and I don’t need my peace interrupted behind that. A little chemistry ain’t worth welcoming drama and confusion into my life.”
There was a lot of shit wrong with that sentence.
Smoke started addressing the issues randomly.
His brows furrowed deep in the middle as he spoke, “Who said I’m coming with that? Since when is dinner drama and confusion?”
“It’s not about dinner.” Her arms crossed tighter. “It’s about what comes after dinner. It’s everything that would come with you.”
“How you so sure what come with me, when you won’t give me a chance? What you think you know Annie?”
No response.
“Nah,” Smoke’s head shook sharp. One time. “What exactly do I ‘got going on’?“
“Whatever you do or don’t have going on ain’t even my business Smoke—”
“I just made it yo’ business.” He was watching his tone. Was making sure he ain’t talk to her rough. But he still sounded blown. Aggravated. Like he couldn’t believe some made up ass assumptions is why they hadn’t got nowhere. “The floor is yours mama. Tell me ‘bout myself. So I can rewrite whatever you done made up in yo head.“
This…was not how gym day was supposed to go.
Smoke calling her out. Giving her nothing but space and opportunity to finally bring up the money, and the disappearances, and the fact that he stayed in a little apartment in Mississippi, when he could clearly afford better.
He was damn near demanding her to clarify the mystery surrounding him — to clarify everything she was using as an excuse not to give him a chance. And when presented with that, she just….panicked.
“I’m not doing this.”
And then she turned around like she really wasn’t.
Antonique ’Annie’ Pierce was the only person on earth who could say they left Elijah ‘Smoke’ Moore standing in a hallway with a purple water bottle, disinfectant wipes, and a dumb look on his face.
And by the time Smoke got his shit together, she was half way down the hall. Stepping with purpose — hips switching, lips frowned up, heart beating in her chest. Like things had gotten a little too real and she was scared. The exact thing she’d claimed not to be less than a few minutes ago.
“Annie, you serous?” This wasn’t a book and Smoke wasn’t tryna be nobody’s main character, so he didn’t run after her. But he was damn sure walking fast, long strides eating up the space between them. “We talkin’ and you just gone walk away??”
“Im tired of talking. I need a shower and I got stuff to do. And you’re officially not my gym partner because if this is your version of cooling down, I don’t like it.”
She threw the words over her shoulder, feet never faltering.
Meanwhile, Smoke didn’t know whether to cuss or laugh.
Not because he found shit funny but ‘cause…nobody else could have him chasing them down a hallway except her.
Stack wasn’t gone believe this shit.
Actually, he was gone make sure Stack never even found out about this.
Annie had just reached her door, when Smoke reached her.
“Really?” He stood on her left, sounding frustrated and fond all at once. Two things, that didn’t even go together. “We sprinting down hallways now?”
“I didn’t sprint.”
“Annie.” He said it like ‘you really just ran from me girl?’
Annie sighed. It wasn’t even 12 o’clock and she was done with today. Done with talking, and thick southern accents, and herself.
She turned away from her door, stiffly. And faced him.
“Smoke…I really do got stuff to do and I’m already behind and…”
She was floundering. Like earlier. And Smoke assisted. Again. Cause he knew when to pull back, just like he knew when to push. He’d gotten some time with her. And some insight. That would do for now. For today.
“Ight, you know I’m neva’ pushing Annie.” He stepped back. Held her stuff out at the same time. “I’m assuming you want yo wipes back? Since people so nasty and all?”
He wasn’t his brother. Wasn’t that good with words. But he was good with her. Was learning how to put her at ease. And when her shoulders lost some tension, big brown eyes peering up at him from under her lashes, steady and sweet, Smoke didn’t even feel like he’d just been shot down again.
“Thank you, Smoke.” The words came out soft.
Like relief.
Like what she was really saying was ‘thank you for seeing I’m losing it and not calling me out’, ‘thank you for being patient and never rushing when I’m not ready.’
Annie ain’t have to thank him for shit though. Whatever came with her — running down hallways and all — he was willing to go through. Cause it’d be worth it. He knew that. Felt it.
Annie took her items — water bottle, wipes, the control Smoke had given back to her. Smiled small, “Have a good rest of your mornin neighbor’.”
“Hm.” She so fucking pretty. “Have a good rest of yo’ mornin’ Annie.”
And then she was stepping back, turning towards her key that sat in the door — doing so a lot more calmly than before.
The door had just unlocked with a soft click, when Smoke spoke again.
“Ima let you go. But since we was talking childhoods and shit earlier, you should prolly’ know that back in high school, I ran track.” Annie paused. Looked over her shoulder, where he was still standing.
“Okay…?”
“So I’m not pushin’, but I ‘ont mind chasin’.” He took in all that yellow she was wrapped in once more. Met her gaze when he was done. “Not when it’s you.”
Thump.
“Smoke…”
“And Annie? You can’t out run me.”
He’d said a lot. Without even saying it. And it didn’t make sense — how 7 words could take her breath.
And then again — it did. Because Smoke was the one saying them.
And by the time Annie entered her apartment, his door shutting right after her’s, she was still trying to get her breath back.
She didn’t even venture deeper. Just stood there in the foyer. Feet planted on wood.
Purple water bottle — in one hand.
Disinfectant wipes — in the other.
And her heart?
In her chest. Thumping.
If you made it to the enddd, I hope you enjoyeddd 🫶🏾 I struggle with my writing coming out flat for Smoke and Annie, so hopefully that’s getting a little better 😬. I want to write 1 more (maybe 2) little ‘drabbles’ for this au if y’all fw it. I wonna get into the crew and I want Smoke to get a yes from this stubborn ass girl lmao. (Her speed walking down the hall away from him is insane lmaooo like girl what????) Anywhooo comments are always appreciated, if you feel so inclined ☺️ 🫶🏾 Happy Saturday !
