| ★ - Gainin' Control | Old Man!Joel Miller x f!reader
| ★ - The Little Things | Joel Miller x reader
| ★ - Invest In Me | Harry Castillo x f!reader
-> Full Masterlist under the cut
☽ angst, ❥ smut, ❀ fluff, ✎ darker themes
★ THE LAST OF US ★
| ONE SHOTS |
| ★ - Home | Joel Miller x f!reader
You and Joel have been in a relationship, but only in private, for multiple months. After you spot him with another woman whilst roaming Jackson, scepticism ensues. The trials and errors of Joel Millers emotions. | ☽, ❀ |
| ★ - I Saw You In A Dream | Joel Miller x f!reader
After being ambushed by a group of raiders, you are gravely injured, testing the limits of your life. In torment, it’s dauntingly proven to Joel that without you, his light, he doesn't know how to cope. | ☽, ❀ |
| ★ - Noisy Sunday | Joel Miller x f!reader
You've entered a mindset you're unsure how to come back from, your own emotions drowning you in a pool of despondency. Joel is there, trying to help you pull away from it. | ✎, ☽, ❀ |
| ★ - My Love Mine All Mine | Joel Miller x f!reader
Subconsciously, you do know exactly where you stand with someone of such brooding nature when braced with the problematic consequences of getting involved with Joel Miller. Though, luckily, hope blurs the lines just enough to be blinded by it. | ✎, ☽, ❥ |
| ★ - Aphrodite, Sweet Angel | Mechanic!Joel Miller x f!reader
You used to be assured in your sensuality, and how you pursued it. Now with your boss, Joel Miller, it feels as though the reigns are continuously twisted, baring to you the stark reality of who you're facing. Just once, you wish to challenge his command. Joel has objections. | ❥ |
| ★ - Goodnight N' Go | Joel Miller x f!reader
It wasn't supposed to be like this. He was supposed to come over, find shared comfort in the tangle of limbs and the softness of bedsheets, and then go home- that's the extent of it. So why is he bringing coffee into your work each morning, letting his dark gaze linger for beats longer than he should, a softness infiltrating the space between you? And more crucially, why do you not want him to stop? | ❀, ❥ |
| ★ - The Little Things | Joel Miller x reader
You've been travelling with Joel for a few months now. The man acts like he can't stand your presence half of the time, and yet a question lingers on your mind like a swaying pendulum. You ask Joel if he'll kiss you. | ❀ |
| ★ - Gainin' Control | Old Man!Joel Miller x f!reader
Joel is always in command, both in and out of the bedroom, and you always surrender willingly to it. But just once, you want to see what it's like to gain that control over him instead. | ❥ |
| ★ - Mrs Miller | Joel Miller x f!wife!reader
You and Joel Miller have known each other for ten years, have been together for nine, and married for six. You live together on a peaceful ranch outside of Jackson, your life peaceful and free- but maybe, in this freedom, it's time to consider expanding the Miller name. | ❀, ❥ |
| SERIES |
| ★ - Gilded Robin | Joel Miller x f!oc | currently discontinued
Having found security and comfort within the confines of Jackson, Ophelia “Robin” Robinette begins to forget of the outside world and life before she had gained this solace, until her past comes ushering back at full force. A lovers, to enemies, then back to lovers story. | ☽, ✎, ❥, ❀ |
| HARRY CASTILLO | MATERIALISTS |
| ★ - Invest In Me | Harry Castillo x f!reader
Your life has always been structured, dependable. You don’t stray, and it’s gifted you affluence. When you rashly decide to go on a blind date and they don’t show, you’re left with another fruitless, lone night of solitary. Until one equally lonely Harry Castillo invites himself to your dinner table and offers you a partnership just maybe worth investing in. | ❀, ❥ |
| COLLAGES / MOODBOARDS / DRABBLES |
| ★ - Joel Miller
| ★ - Agent Whiskey
| ★ - Cowboy!Joel Miller x f!reader | ❥ |
| ★ - Mrs. Miller | Joel Miller
“Nothing is immune to time. Not even eternity.” - Mike Carey
shoutout to the lady sitting in the row behind me during my most recent screening of the mandalorian and grogu, who whispered 'he's gorgeous!!!' as soon as Din's helmet came off. felt that in my soul.
Summary: you get caught in the rain on your way to Professor Miller’s house and your lesson gets derailed.
Tw: 18+ mdni, smut, fluff, big age gap (reader’s in her early 20s, Joel’s in his late 40s), insecure reader, soft!Joel, praise, f!oral, unprotected piv, belly bulge, use of a morning after pill, slight Professor kink, power imbalance. Joel can pick up reader, reader has hair. Pics are only for the mood, reader has no physical description.
Word count: 7,9k
A/n: this is for @undercoverpena ‘s April Showers Challenge. Big thank you to @milla-frenchy for beta-ing. Hope you all will enjoy it💖
Good Girl EXTRA || MASTERLIST || Read on AO3
You are rushing along an empty suburban street caught in a warm summer rain. Soaked strands of hair are sticking to your face and you brush them off, feeling your clothes getting wet too. Drops of water are trickling down your naked thighs as your skirt rides up and your shoes squelch with every hurried step.
The rain isn’t too heavy and you might have enjoyed it some other time but not now, not when you’re running late for your lesson at Professor Miller’s house. You could have waited it out under a tree but by the look of it, the pouring won’t stop soon.
You didn’t want to make Professor Miller wait. He is already doing you a huge favor, tutoring you a few hours a week in preparation for another year at college.
You decided to switch majors and, being a good friend of your mother, Professor Miller agreed to help you so you could catch up on what you had missed and get more confident in the new field.
Frankly you wouldn’t be late if you hadn’t been running circles in your room, trying to decide what to wear. Of course, you had a crush on Professor Miller. He was handsome, intelligent, nice and much older than you. But you’d never act on it because you couldn’t even imagine him looking at you like that. So you weren’t choosing anything to attract him that day. All you wanted was to look nice. You always wore formal clothing out of respect for him. One time you put on a band tee and a pair of ripped jeans for your lesson and felt terribly out of place next to the perfect Professor Miller. After that you swore to yourself to look presentable at his lessons.
You’re looking very far from presentable when Professor Miller opens the door to you now. Yet there’s not a trace of displeasure in his warm gaze.
“Oh, sweetheart, you’re soaked!” he exclaims, eyes widened behind his black-rimmed glasses.
“Forgot my umbrella, so sorry,” you mumble, stepping inside. You take off your wet shoes and put on the slippers you always wear in his house. Seeing that you’re dripping water on the floor, you silently curse.
As a striking contrast to you Professor Miller looks impeccable. Beautiful dark curls are combed back, a black sweater over a white dress shirt and black slacks make him look like he’s on a red carpet rather than in a suburban house on a Saturday.
He rushes away, mumbling something about towels, and you peek into the hall mirror to check the damage.
What you see makes you want to jump out of the window - your mascara is running, the hair’s wet and disheveled but what makes your heart drop to your stomach is your white blouse, soaked, stuck to your torso and completely see-through. Your chest is fully exposed except for your white lacy bra which isn’t much help either as you can definitely see your nipples.
Your hands dart to cover yourself but you don’t want to attract more attention to it, so you try to cross your arms over your breasts as casually as possible.
“Here.” You jerk, hearing Professor Miller’s beautiful voice and take a towel from him with a quiet ‘thank you.’
“Can I use the bathroom?” You ask, hugging the towel close to your chest.
“Of course, take your time. Join me in the office when you’re ready.”
You love Professor Miller’s guest bathroom. All of his house actually. It’s always neat and feels warm and cozy. Every piece of furniture seems thought through, the colors are rich but calming and you often find yourself wishing to stay here longer.
You clean your face up and dry yourself as well as you can. Your hair is still damp, but the skirt is not that wet. On the other hand your blouse still makes you wanna cry. At some point you contemplate asking Professor Miller for a spare shirt but this seems very inappropriate.
So you take a deep breath and decide that you can cover your almost exposed breasts with a book or something else.
You walk to the office and hastily join Professor Miller at his desk. A cup of hot tea is waiting for you next to a stack of books.
“Take a seat, sweetheart,” he says, patting the chair next to him and you plop down awkwardly, trying to hide your indecency. “Drink this. It’ll help you to get warm.” His gaze slides over you fast, not sticking to anything in particular, and you ease up a little.
He starts the lesson by checking your homework and explains your mistakes. You nod but hardly listen to him. So close to Professor Miller you feel disappointed in yourself, looking like an idiot who forgets to check the weather before leaving the house.
A light breeze hits your back and you shiver.
“Oh, I’ll close the window.” Professor Miller rushes to stand up, but you stop him with a hand on his arm. As if electrified by the feeling of his firm muscles under your touch, you dart your hand back, as your cheeks burn and you say,
“It’s ok. I love the sound of rain.”
“But you must be cold? Here, take my cardigan.” You object but he doesn’t listen, grabbing it off his chair and putting it over your shoulders.
“Thank you,” you breathe out, wrapping yourself in it as his scent envelops you. He smells of vanilla and cardamom and you can’t help but take a deep breath of him. He smiles, but you don’t notice it.
A couple of times during the lesson Professor Miller seems to lose his train of thought and you blame your look for it. He must be thinking that you look like a stray wet dog and your mood gets worse.
When he stands up to get a book from his home library you use the pause to apologize,
“I’m sorry again for looking like this. I should have waited the rain out but I was running late.”
He turns to you, standing at the wall full of books, and shakes his head, a warm smile on his handsome face,
“What are you talking about? You look great.”
“Ehm…I doubt it. I bet I’ve left a puddle in your hall like a wet dog.”
He chuckles, then grabs the necessary book and returns to the desk. He sits down and turns slightly towards you. His knee touches your naked thigh and you press your legs together, feeling the tingling between them. With a new wave of embarrassment overtaking you, you close the cardigan over your chest. He doesn’t look down but instead searches for your eyes.
“You look amazing, sweetheart, you always do. And I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable. It’s just rain.”
The sun peeks through the clouds for a second, and when its golden rays fill the room, you notice how beautifully Professor Miller’s eyes sparkle behind the glasses when the light shines on them. It takes your breath away and you lower your gaze with a smile. His praise makes you feel warm and fuzzy and your heart sings at the sincerity in his voice.
“Thank you.” Your quiet words are barely audible because of the sound of the rain outside.
Professor Miller takes a deep sigh. “Sometimes when I look at you…I wish I was younger.”
Your jaw nearly hits the floor as you look up at him and stumble, “W- what… why? Really? Why?”
He chuckles. “Yeah, my back wouldn’t give me so much grief.”
You’re nodding with a fake smile, disappointed by his answer. He’d never look at you this way, in a different way. He’s perfect and you’re …well, you. He interrupts your self-deprecation saying softly, “Sweetheart, you worry too much. You, young people, don't understand how lucky you are. You have the whole life ahead of you, you’re free of regrets, sorrows. And the youth passes so quickly.”
You’re staring at him now, lips half parted, and then suddenly blurt out, “I am afraid. Almost all the time.”
“Of what? Why?” He asks, looking concerned.
“I don’t know. Of… everything.”
You turn slightly to him on the chair but quickly avert your gaze and stare back at the open window. The thrumming of the rain outside makes it easier to talk, as if it is accompanying your words.
“I’m afraid of my future. How wonderful it can be or how unhappy I might become. I study hard thinking …wishing the result will give me happiness but what if it doesn’t. I worry about my future career, but I’m not even sure I want it. I.. I don’t know what I want. I don’t know what I’m doing.”
You feel wetness coating your eyes and glance at him. He’s looking at you with intent, his brows slightly furrowed in thought.
You sniff, turning back to the desk, and stare at your fingers fumbling with the corner of Professor Miller’s cardigan.
“Sweetheart, no one knows what the fuck they’re doing.”
Your head whips up and you gawk at him with widened eyes. You’ve never heard him swear and never thought you ever would. He smiles, as if finding your reaction amusing.
“I might look all put together but I’m just like you. Scared, unsure… hell, we all are. No matter the age, I doubt it ever goes away,” he says placing his heavy hand on your shoulder, giving it a light squeeze, “But you can try to focus on the present, enjoy the moment, enjoy yourself.”
The sadness in your eyes makes him chuckle bitterly, “My intent was to help but it seems like I’ve done the opposite.”
“No, it’s fine. I appreciate you telling me this but I doubt I can do that.“
He watches you for a few moments and suddenly his face lights up and a charming lopsided smile twists his lips. You almost giggle at how mischievous and joyful he looks.
“I know what we should do.” He gets up and offers you his hand.
You look up at him confused but so much joy is radiating from him, you can’t say ‘no’. You take his hand and your whole body vibrates with skin on skin contact. You’re overwhelmed by his and your confession, by the unexpected turn your lesson took, and your heart is fluttering in your chest.
You follow him to the living room, your hand in his, and come up to the French windows which lead to the back yard. He lets go of your hand and you fix his cardigan that’s slipping off your shoulders.
Professor Miller opens the windows and a flow of humid slightly cold air rushes into the room and you wrap the cardigan tighter around your torso. The rain got heavier and you see little puddles on the patio.
He turns to you and says, louder than usual, so you could hear through the drumming of the shower.
“You know what I want to do now? What will make me happier?”
He starts walking backwards out to the wet patio and you open your mouth and giggle,
“Oh my god, Professor! What are you doing?”
He shoots you a wink and steps under the heavy rain. Then he tilts his head up, closing his eyes and exposing his face to the drops, falling from the sky.
“Please, come back inside!” You walk up to him, still standing under the cover of the roof. You place your hand on his shoulder and grab him lightly. “Come back inside, you’ll get cold. I’m not sad anymore, I promise.”
Just a few moments under the downpour are enough to drench him and when he looks at you, his glasses are all wet, curls are stuck to his forehead, his sweater is soaked.
“Do you like walking in the rain, sweetheart?”
“Well, sometimes yeah, I guess, but…”
“Great!”
With that, he grabs your hand on his shoulder and pulls you out onto the wet grass. You gasp, feeling the rain drops on your face and body again, your clothes and slippers getting wet slowly but surely. You try to get back inside but he quickly closes the windows and stands in front of you, not letting you through.
“Come on, sweetheart, enjoy this summer rain with me.”
“I will but maybe inside the house?” you plead, trying to cover your head with your hands.
“And where's the fun in that? C’mon,” he returns your pleading gaze with his own, placing his hands on your shoulders, “Let’s enjoy the moment. Do what you want. Don’t worry about the future. Live now.”
His hands leave your shoulders and he steps up closer, making you walk further from the cover of his house. Watching him prowl towards you like that, with a charming smile, his hands in the pockets of his slacks, sends a surge of arousal through your core and you feel yourself getting wet not only from the rain. You stop and he does too, an arm length from you.
You two are standing in the middle of the backyard, smiling at each other, while the heavy rain is soaking your clothes, drawing wet paths down your faces.
You follow his lead from a few moments ago, looking up and closing your eyes. You feel the drops caressing your skin, kissing your eyelids, nose, lips and then sliding down your neck. For a moment you let go of your fears and hopes that weigh on you rather than motivate you and just feel, taking a deep breath.
When you open your eyes a few moments later, there’s something different about the way Professor Miller is looking at you. His cheer is gone and he’s serious again but not in his usual ‘I’m a professor’ way. His gaze is focused on you, dark eyes tracing your features with quiet hunger.
“What would you like to do right now?” He asks you, tilting his head to the side. The answer comes to you like lightning and you act on it immediately.
You take a step, reach up and kiss him. It’s just a peck but you stay there for a few seconds pressing your wet lips to his.
He breathes in sharply against your mouth and the realization of what you’ve just done hits you like a freight train. You part from him and step back, your eyes filled with terror.
You’re staring at each other for a few long moments, only the sound of rain and your pounding heartbeat breaking the silence. You open your mouth to dump all possible apologies on your tutor but you have no time to do it because in the next moment Professor Miller kisses you.
One hand on your neck, the other on your arm he’s kissing you, keeping you close, but not grabbing you. You can stop it any second. You don’t. You revel in the feeling of his lips gently caressing yours. They taste like rain. His thumb is sliding along your jaw and your pussy aches with need. You’re cold from the rain but burning up inside for him at the same time. A shiver runs through your body and his lips leave yours.
“Let’s go back inside. You are freezing,” he whispers, pressing his forehead to yours. You curse your body for interrupting the most beautiful moment of your life but follow him when he takes your hand in his and leads you back into the house.
You’re dripping on his carpet in the living room until Professor Miller brings towels and you dry yourselves. He takes off his sweater and you swallow loudly when he rolls up the sleeves of his white shirt exposing his big forearms. His tousled wet curls take your breath away. One curl falls on his forehead and your heart hurts from how handsome he looks. He places his glasses on the coffee table and asks you,
“Would you like to change? I can give you my shirt. Or find something of Sarah.”
After discarding his soaked cardigan, you look down and see your sheer wet blouse sticking to your breasts but you don’t feel uncomfortable or embarrassed any more. You shake your head, wanting him to see you, all of you. The realization makes you gush and your pussy tingles, making you press your thighs together.
“God, you’re shivering, you can get sick,” he fusses over you and he’s right, you’re trembling all over, but not only because of the rain-drenched clothes. Your whole world is upside down. You shoved your crush on Professor Miller into the furthest corner of your heart, being scared of it. You were always good at limiting and controlling yourself, at making yourself feel less, not acting on your desires.
Until today.
Shaking legs bring you to the sofa and you sit down. He takes a blanket from the side of it and wraps you in it, rubbing your arms and back over the material, trying to warm you up.
He’s so close to you. You stare at his wet face, lashes stuck together, lips shining with the rain or your saliva or both.
It feels like a dream that you don’t want to end. His hands leave you and you look at each other. His gaze slides down to your lips and your heart flutters. You wonder if you have enough courage to kiss him again.
Suddenly you hear a loud thunder and jump in your seat. You look around and it’s like you finally woke up. Your heart freezes at the thought, ‘You kissed Professor Miller! You kissed your fucking tutor! Your mom’s friend! Fuck!’
Your head whips back to him. “I’m so sorry,” you mumble, trying not to burst into tears, your throat getting squeezed with embarrassment. “I…I don’t know why I’ve done it. I must have lost my mind. I’m sorry. Thank you for taking pity on me, Professor.”
His hand darts to your shoulder but he swiftly puts it away.
“First of all, call me Joel, please …and what do you mean by pity? I didn’t take pity on you. I acted inappropriately but… I wish you could see what I see when I look at you.”
You drop your head and murmur under your breath, “A complete mess?”
He sighs and takes your hand in his. His big warm palm engulfs it completely and you look up at him, not being able to contain yourself anymore, as tears well up in your eyes. His voice is warm and soft and so pleasant you wish he’d never stop talking.
“You’re a wonderful young woman. Intelligent, kind, capable of anything you’ll set your mind to. Your future is bright, I'm sure of it.”
You smile and tears roll down your cheeks.
“And you’re very beautiful. I hope someone tells you this.”
You sniff, eyes downcast, and shake your head, making your tears fall. Joel gently takes your chin between his fingers and tilts your head up so you would look at him. His face is blurry with all the wetness in your eyes. He cups your cheek and brushes a tear away with his thumb.
“Well, then let me do it. You’re the most beautiful woman I know.”
Your heart stops. At least you think so because what you’re hearing can not be real. You died and went to heaven otherwise it’s unbelievable that Professor Miller… Joel is telling you this.
You’re gawking at him and he chuckles before taking his hand away.
“I love that I can see all your emotions on your face.”
You hastily close your mouth and try to collect yourself while a whirlwind of feelings swirls in your stomach.
“And I don’t regret kissing you.”
You search his face for a sign of a joke, but find none. He looks and sounds serious and you feel yourself lean closer to him.
“Me neither, Joel,” you whisper, his name sweet on your tongue, and lean forward a little. It takes him a second to meet you halfway and kiss you. He takes the lead and moves his lips slowly and gently against yours but you feel that he’s holding himself down by the way he breathes, the way his lips move faster and with more vigor until he stops himself. You feel hot wrapped in the warm blanket so still glued to him you unwrap yourself and it pools at your feet.
“You’ll get cold,” he mumbles against your lips and you shake your head no, still kissing him. You don’t want it to end so you desperately cling to him with only your lips touching.
Another thunder shakes the house and you feel his hand on your naked knee. You part your legs and scoot closer to him and his thumb brushes your inner thigh. Your whole body erupts with chills.
“Sweetheart,” he whispers as his lips leave yours, “Your legs are ice cold.” He puts his hands on your arms, “And you’re still shivering, poor thing.”
You’re about to explain that it’s not because of the rain or wet clothes, at least not only. It’s him, his plush lips on yours, his warm hands gliding over your skin, his eyes looking at you so differently from what you’re used to. All of it makes every cell in your body vibrate, your stomach churn, your core burn with arousal.
But before you can tell him all that, he says something that makes you stop in your tracks, “Would you like to take a bath?”
For the hundredth time today you’re staring at him with your mouth agape.
“H-here? In your house?” you stumble, blinking at him.
“Yes. There's a nice tub upstairs in my bedroom.” He hears himself and hastily adds, “It’s not like that. Ehm… You can take it and I’ll wait for you here. I’m afraid you’ll get sick because of my carelessness.”
His beautiful brown eyes are pleading you to agree. You don’t want to leave him but your sodden cold clothes make the offer of a hot bath sound better with every second.
So you nod and he beams at you. In a second he’s walking upstairs and you’re trailing behind him, your hand in his. He leads you to his bedroom and you quickly look around, seeing that it’s perfect like the rest of his house, simple but cozy. You follow him to the en-suite bathroom and he starts the water. He explains to you how to make it colder and hotter like you’ve never seen a bathtub before but you don’t get offended or annoyed. He’s nervous, it’s visible and it makes you jittery too. Suddenly the idea of being alone without him makes you sad and your heart aches.
The tub fills up fast and while he’s telling you about the bath salts and towels you interrupt him,
“Can you stay?”
Now it’s his turn to gawk at you.
“When…until it’s full?” He asks and you shake your head.
“No, when I take it. Can you stay with me?”
He swallows loudly and takes a step closer to you.
“Sweetheart, I’ve crossed so many lines today. I’m not sure I can cross this one.”
“You told me to do what I want right? And I want you to stay with me, Joel,” you say louder, trying to feign confidence, before taking a step to him.
“Are you sure?”
You look deep into his eyes, so close that you can see your own reflection in them and reply,
“I'm not sure about anything in my life… but I'm sure that I want this,” you say, drawing an invisible line between your hearts with your finger, and add, “Really badly.”
His dark eyes are darting between yours as if he’s looking for a trace of doubt in them. He won’t find any. He’s reading your features and they probably tell him something because in the next moment he slowly leans to you. The kiss is soft but the more you taste him the more confident you get.
So you press your body to his and he groans when your lower belly touches his bulge. Your heart and pussy flutter when you realize how big and stiff he is. Is it because of you? A part of you can’t believe a man like him can be interested in you but his body can’t lie.
“Sweetheart,” he whispers, pulling away but, in an attempt to interrupt something you don’t want to hear, you raise your hands and start unbuttoning your wet blouse.
Joel’s eyes are glued to your fingers, working their way up your top. Soon your belly is revealed, then sternum and your breasts, covered by the bra. You slide the blouse off your body and it pools at your feet.
“You’re so beautiful,” Joel whispers, as his hand slowly lifts to your breast and he brushes your nipple through the thin lace of the bra with his thumb. It’s already perked up from all the kissing and the cold and you whimper, your body vibrating with desire at the slightest touch of his big hand.
You get impatient and take your skirt off too. You’re standing in front of him wearing nothing but a lace white set and Joel growls like a hungry wolf. You bite your lip, hearing the sound of his desire for you.
His gaze slides from your face to your breasts, belly, hips, legs and up to your face again. He seems to make a decision because soon he starts unbuttoning his shirt too.
“I’m going to hell,” he mumbles as the expanse of his chest is revealed to you and you salivate seeing his golden skin, soft belly, happy trail that leads down. Your clit twitches when he unzips his pants.
Soon his clothes join yours on the floor and he places his hands on your waist. You try not to look at the huge tent in his boxers but fail miserably. He smiles and pulls you into his arms and you hug his middle. He’s big and hot against your cold skin and your whole body erupts in goosebumps.
“Still shivering, poor thing, let’s get you into the hot water,” he whispers and his hands slide to your back. He searches for your eyes and after you look up and nod, he unclasps your bra and takes it off you.
His chest is heaving when his gaze moves down to your naked breasts but he doesn’t stop stripping you. With his fingers hooked in your panties, he waits for your permission and then slides them down. They fall on the floor around your feet and you step out of them.
His eyes are completely obsidian now and his hands dart to you but he stops himself.
“Could you help me?” You ask and turn around before offering him your hand. He takes it and you step into the full tub. The water feels scolding hot at first but all your senses are focused on Joel and you lower yourself into the hot water. Sitting in the middle of the tub you look at his bulge, which is at your eye level now.
“Join me, please,” you plead and he mumbles soft “yeah,” before pulling his boxers down. His cock springs free and your pussy buzzes with anticipation and fear because he’s really big and thick.
Joel gets in the water behind you, his legs bent at the knees by your sides. He puts his hands on your shoulders and pulls you to lie down against his chest.
You rest your back on his warm broad chest and he wraps his arms around your waist. You feel his cock twitch against your lower back and a quiet whimper escapes your lips, “Joel.”
He almost purrs hearing how you said his name. You feel his heart beating hard at your back. His body, so big and strong, envelops you, warms you up better than the hot water around you and you feel like it’s where you belong, in his arms, reveling in his warmth, his softness, ready to give him anything he’d wish for.
The ache in your pussy gets harder to ignore and you squirm between his legs. He takes a sharp breath and bucks his hips against your butt. You feel his lips at your temple as he plants a kiss there.
“You’re so hot,” he praises you as his hands slide up your body and he cups your breasts. He palms your pebbled nipples and you moan, pressing your thighs together.
Then you tilt your head to the side and back and look up at Joel. His face is twisted in pleasure, eyes blown, and he lowers his head and catches your lips with his. This kiss is different from the ones you’ve shared before. Craving, impatience in every stroke of his lips, every swipe of his tongue, and you drown in pleasure of his caress.
Suddenly it’s not enough for the both of you. Without saying a word to each other you sit up and turn around while he helps you shift in the tub with his hands on your waist. You’re facing him now, standing on your knees, and he takes in your wet naked body before whispering,
“Let me make you feel good, sweetheart.”
You breathe out a soft ‘ok’ and in a second he lifts you up and sets you on the edge of the tub in the corner. You lean your back against the cold tile wall and shiver. Joel notices your reaction and starts pouring the water over you so you’d warm up again.
When you say that you’re not cold, he stands on his knees in front of you, his hands planted on the edge of the tub by your sides. He cages you in between his broad torso and the wall and your pussy pulsates for him.
“Could you spread your legs for me, please?” he says, sitting down on his heels, as his chest is pressed to your knees.
You slowly do what he asked and your pussy blooms for him, folds opening up to his view and Joel’s breath hitches and he llicks his lips at the sight.
“Oh, my,” he mumbles and glances up at you, "You have the most gorgeous pussy, sweetheart." That word on his lips sends a fiery wave through every inch of your body and you whimper, when he moves into the space between your legs, spreading your thighs wider with his broad torso.
His plush lips parted, eyes blown and restless, he takes you in - his gaze hastily runs over your face, breast, belly, cunt as if he can't get enough of you. He reaches for your face and kisses you deeply and passionately. His hand brushes against your aching pussy and you moan.
"My sweet girl," he whispers against the corner of your mouth and his soft lips move down to your neck, collar bone, chest. He's swirling his tongue over your nipple, his hand kneading your breast while you are running your fingers through his damp curls.
Soon he gets to your pussy and when his hot lips touch you there you almost come against his mouth.
“You’re sweet all over, honey,” he mumbles against your twitching clit, hunching down. Then he grabs your ankle in the water and lifts your leg.
“Put your foot on the edge, yeah, like that, good girl.” You’re completely exposed to him now but your desire shuts all your insecurities and you ache to show him every inch of you without any shame.
Soon you’re moaning and writhing on the edge of the tub as his tongue is dancing over your clit before his lips close around it and he gently sucks on the bud, keeping your folds spread with his thick fingers.
You’ve never felt more euphoric in your life and he approvingly hums against your pussy, when you whisper his name again and again, alternating it with whimpers and soft ‘yeah’s’.
“Damn, I can come just from hearing you, honey. What are you doing to me?” He says, looking up at you from between your thighs, eyes glistening. He looks completely pussy-drunk and it must be taking everything from him not to spill his seed into the bath water right now.
You give him a little apologetic smile and he continues pleasuring you. Joel’s caresses are slow and gentle, he’s almost edging you but when you start moving your hips, searching for more friction, he reads your signal immediately.
“Need more, sweetheart?”
You nod eagerly and with his hands on your inner thighs he starts devouring your pussy, his growls full of lust. The flat of his tongue is rubbing against your clit, then the warm muscle plunges into your crying hole as his nose nudges your clit and soon you’re screaming, shaking with the hardest climax of your life.
Joel laps at your juices, generously dripping into his greedy mouth as you’re digging your fingers into his broad shoulders, clenching around his tongue when he slides it inside you.
“Yeah… like that. Oh, my good girl,” Joel mumbles, his words muffled by your pussy.
When your climax dissipates, you rest your head back against the wall and he stays between your legs, peppering kisses on your inner thighs. His palms glide up and down your legs as you’re catching your breath.
When you look down, your eyes well up with tears when you see this big, gorgeous, intelligent, hot man on his knees in front of you. A voice inside your head reminds you that he’s much older, your parents will kill you, you’re fucked. But you push all your fears away when he gently helps you get back in the water and sets you on his lap.
Straddling him, you look into his eyes. You’re feeling a myriad of emotions but the brightest one makes your heart sing - you finally feel like yourself, confident, free, happy.
“Thank you,” you whisper with a smile, grateful for the pleasure but also for the self assurance he gave you.
“Thank you, sweetheart.” He returns your smile with the warmest grin and pulls you into his embrace before kissing you. His big arms envelop your torso as you melt against his chest.
His cock twitches between your bodies and the fire in your core ignites with a new force.
“I want you inside,” you whisper, nuzzling his neck.
“Oh, darling… I wish for nothing more but … I’m afraid to hurt you.”
You sit up straight and drop your gaze into the water. His cock looks painfully hard and huge and you take a sharp breath, imagining it piercing you.
“I wanna try,” you say with confidence.
He searches for any doubt in your eyes again and then nods. Joel helps you to stand on your knees in the bath, holding you steady with his hand on your hip, the other holding his cock at the base.
“Start slowly and if it hurts… stop any second, ok?”
You agree, positioning yourself right above his waiting cock and begin lowering your hips.
You feel his hot tip bump into your clit and, feeling a burst of pleasure, you grind against it a few times. You both moan at the sensation and Joel tightens his grip on your body.
His handsome face twisted in pleasure might be the most beautiful thing you’ve seen. You don’t tear your eyes off him, wishing the image got sealed in your memory forever.
You shift a little, nudge your hole with his fat head and start sinking on his throbbing member.
He’s big. Really big.
You widen your eyes as his length parts your folds and slides inside you, surprisingly easily thanks to your recent orgasm.
Joel leans back against the tub and watches your pussy swallow him in the water, his brows furrowed, half-lidded eyes set on the place where you two are slowly joining.
You lower yourself further as your walls spread, trying to accommodate his member inside you. It hurts a little but you’re so aroused you hardly notice it.
Joel moans when you’re finally flush with him, his cock filling your wet heat perfectly.
“Fuck, ohhh, fuck… I’m sorry for all the cursing, honey, but your pussy feels fucking incredible.”
You smile at the praise and clench around him making him squeeze his eyes shut.
“You’re not a virgin, are you?” he asks with his eyes still closed.
You shake your head, but hastily add ‘no’, realizing he can’t see you.
“I’ve had a boyfriend. But he dumped me pretty quickly.”
He looks at you, brows furrowed, as he hears a slight sadness in your voice.
“His loss, sweetheart,” he says, gently taking your neck between his palms.
His gaze slides down your body to your pussy.
“Hnggg, you’re so tight.”
“Sorry. “
“What? No, it’s .. Gosh, I can’t think straight when you …look like this, wrapped around my cock. I’m in heaven.”
His warm hand rises to your face and he cups your heated cheek. You nuzzle into it smiling against his palm. Then you move your face a little and when you feel his thumb at your lips you part them and take it into your mouth.
His cock throbs deliciously inside you, and he moans as your tongue swirls over his thick finger.
“Oh my god, you naughty thing. You’re going to be the death of me.”
You smile around his finger and roll your hips a little. You both almost scream at the sensation. His thumb slips out of your open mouth as a wave of pleasure rushes through you. You seem to feel his cock everywhere. You can’t stop now, not with the way his thick length massages your pussy on the inside, sending bolts of ecstasy through your body.
You start fucking yourself on his stiff cock and you both fill the room with groans and whimpers, adding them to the soft splashing of the tub water.
He tilts his head back and squeezes his eyes shut while you feel another climax building.
“Oh, Professor,” you moan and he groans, clenching his teeth,
“Don’t.”
“What?” You ask and bite your lip, seeing that he’s deep in the pits of lust just like you are.
“Because I won’t let you stop calling me that,” he groans and your heart sings at the implication of you two doing it again in the future.
Not giving him any respite you breathe out, “It feels so good, Professor,” and start bouncing on his throbbing cock.
Joel moans but then holds you down.
“Baby, are you on the pill? I can’t… I’m gonna come soon.”
“No,” you reply through panting and he furrows his brows,
“Shit… not sure I have condoms,” he says, his eyes darting between yours. He clears his throat and adds, “I haven’t been with anyone for …some time now.”
You feel like he wants to apologize and you shut him up with a kiss.
“It’s ok. I’ll get Plan B. I want…want it inside me,” you whisper against his lips and sit up, starting to move again. You roll your hips, feeling your clit rub against his soft belly, and whimpers escape your parted lips again and again.
“Fuck, look at you,” he mumbles, watching your body slowly move on him. He’s almost drooling as his palm slides from your neck to your chest, over the swells of your breasts, brushing against your erect nipples, caressing the soft skin of your belly. He dips his hand in the water and presses it to a lump right over your mound and moans,
“Oh, fuck, I can feel my cock right here… do you feel me deep, baby? Tell me.”
“Yes, Professor,”
“Shit, I’m not gonna last, gonna fill you up.”
Looking down, you see it, the bulge in your belly moving up and down, his cock inside you stretching your skin.
With a loud moan, you clench around him and it sends a chain reaction making your pussy vibrate and contract, as another climax starts shaking your body.
“Yeah, baby, just like that… squeeze my fat cock, my good fucking girl.”
Not being able to hold any longer, Joel erupts inside your core, jets of cum spurting against your walls. You feel hot from the water and his heated body and now there’s warmth inside you too, your pussy’s getting filled with him.
You’re fucking yourself on his exploding cock while he’s sucking on your neck, and then he holds you so tight, it gets difficult to breathe. Every cell in your body is screaming with pleasure and you wish this moment never passed, he was inside you forever, holding you close.
When you both feel your climaxes subside, Joel leans back against the wall and pulls you to lie on his chest. You stay like this for a few minutes, plugged by his cock and full of his seed. You breathe in the scent of his skin, your hands on his chest as he rocks you like a big strong wave, slowly breathing in and out. You feel an immense affection towards him, and your throat gets squeezed with upcoming tears. You try to hide them from him but when you sniff he gently cups your cheek and makes you look at him.
“Are you hurt? Did I hurt you?” he asks, looking you over with worry in his gaze.
“No, I’m just… I’m just happy. I’m sorry.”
You smile at each other until he takes your face in his big hands and plants kisses on your eyes, cheeks, nose, chin, lips. You giggle when his facial hair tickles your delicate skin and he laughs with you.
Your bodies relaxed, hunger satiated, you stay in the bath for a few more minutes while he’s pouring water with his hands over your shoulders to keep you warm.
When the temperature lowers, he gets out of the tub and brings you a big fluffy towel while you shamelessly watch him move naked and wet around the bathroom. He helps you to get up and you bite your lip when his cock twitches at the sight of your body on display for him. He clears his throat and starts gently drying your skin. The memory takes you back to him drying you in his living room, before you crossed the line with him and you marvel how much changed between now and then.
You feel happy for the first time in a long time but also scared of what happens next. What if he goes back to being just your tutor, what if he doesn’t want to see you at all, what if your parents find out… The thoughts rush through your mind and he reads your face again and asks, “What is it, sweetheart?”
You shake your head, driving away your fears. Joel wraps you in the towel and you gasp when he lifts you. He laughs, carrying you to his bedroom, and then lowers you gently on the bed.
“Get under the duvet, sweetheart.”
You listen to him and get comfortable in his bed. The sheets smell of him and you can’t help but gush again. He brings your clothes and you sit up reaching for them so you could put them on but he stops you.
“Stay here. I’ll go get you the pill,” he says and makes you lie back down. After getting dressed in a black t-shirt and jeans, Joel tucks you in and kisses you gently before leaving.
You hear his car drive off and fall into the comfort of his bed. You close your eyes for a second suddenly feeling tired.
You wake up from soft kisses to your forehead, cheeks, lips.
“I hate to wake you up, honey, but your parents are worried.”
You sit up rubbing your eyes and holding the duvet over your naked breasts. You see the pill and a glass of water on the nightstand and take it.
“They called?” You ask, swallowing Plan B.
“Yes, I told them you needed to do some extra exercises.”
You giggle but he looks upset. Your fears come back again.
“You regret it,” you whisper, as your eyes well up with tears.
In a second you’re in his big arms and he whispers against your cheek,
“Never, baby. I don’t. But I can’t help but feel guilty. I should know better. I feel like I’m robbing you of your time. You should be someone young, someone who can give you more.”
You search for his eyes and take his face in your hands.
“No, I don’t want anyone else. I want… I need you.”
You kiss him and pull him to lie over you on the bed. You’re making out holding each other close. The rain has stopped and you can hear birds chirping outside through an open window.
“Fuck.. I need to go,” you whine, parting from Joel and reaching for your clothes at the foot of the bed.
“Language, young lady,” he scolds you with a smirk. You bite your lip and purr with a sultry tone, “Sorry, Professor.”
You love how this word makes him shiver with arousal now.
He adjusts himself, cursing under his breath and his dark eyes are watching you while you’re giving him a little show while putting on your clothes - gliding your hands over your body, slowly slipping into your panties and bra. When you slide your arms into your already dry blouse, he gets up to button it up for you. Soon your lips gravitate towards each other and it takes a lot from you to part from him again.
You go downstairs and Joel offers to drive you home but you politely refuse.
“I’ll walk. I love the smell of the air after rain,” you smile ready to leave, standing at the door, “besides someone told me to enjoy myself more so I’m gonna follow his advice.”
You smile at each other and he gives you a farewell kiss, hugging you, before whispering in your ear, “My sweet girl. Thank you.”
You look deeply into his eyes and ask,
“See you on Thursday?”
“Yes, but you’re going to study.” Your widened sad eyes make him chuckle as he adds, “Among other things.”
You beam at him, peck his lips and walk out of the door, feeling wings behind your back.
my masterlist | read on ao3 | capuccinodollupdates
summary: Trapped by a mountain storm and a sudden blackout, the lines between duty and desire blur. In the flickering firelight of a remote cabin, your stoic bodyguard, Javier, finally drops his guard; and you finally get what you’ve been craving for months. WC: 10.2K
A/N: Helloo. This one-shot was written as part of the PPCU Fandom Writing Challenge organized by @pedroscurls <3 The dialogue prompt I received was: "I'm supposed to be the one protecting you." I've been writing this since march, baby steps but we're here!
tags: alternate universe - modern setting / explicit content - smut / dirty talk / reader in peril (briefly) / no explicit violence
If you enjoyed it, please leave a comment and reblog! I really appreciate feedback<3
You hate that everyone here knows your name before they’ve even met you. The lingering looks, the whispers barely disguised. The stupid questions they already know the answer to.
Enzo Vandspell’s daughter, is that you? Yeah, that’s me. Not that it’s a mystery; of course they know. Everyone here has seen your father’s face on the news. Television, online, splashed across print. Someone even turned it into a cheap joke on an entertainment segment.
New York isn’t a great place to be when you’re caught in the middle of a storm. Even less so when it involves things as delicate as money laundering and a few other matters your father never dared to explain. And you didn’t ask. You already knew. Played the good daughter who keeps out of it, because it was enough to unlock your phone and read the first headline you found.
Senator Enzo Vandspell Discloses Alleged International Corruption Network, Prompting Federal Scrutiny
WASHINGTON — Senator Enzo Vandspell, a prominent advocate for anti-corruption measures in Congress, disclosed on Wednesday a series of documents he says point to the existence of a far-reaching network engaged in money laundering and narcotics trafficking, with alleged connections spanning Latin America, Europe, and the United States.
Speaking at a press conference on Capitol Hill, Vandspell stated that the findings stem from an investigation conducted by his office over the course of more than a year. According to the senator, the materials suggest the involvement of business executives, public officials, and financial intermediaries in schemes utilizing shell companies and offshore accounts to obscure substantial sums of illicit funds.
“This is not an isolated matter,” Vandspell said. “What we are seeing reflects a broader pattern of coordinated activity that has persisted for years, enabled in part by systemic gaps in oversight.”
The documents, portions of which were made available to federal authorities, outline mechanisms including the transfer of funds through jurisdictions with limited financial transparency and the use of inflated contracts tied to public infrastructure projects. Vandspell declined to identify specific individuals or entities during the briefing, citing the sensitivity of the information and the potential for ongoing legal proceedings.
A spokesperson for the Department of Justice confirmed receipt of the materials but declined to comment further, noting that it does not discuss potential or ongoing investigations.
Separately, Vandspell’s office reported an increase in security concerns following the disclosure. In a brief statement, staff confirmed that additional protective measures have been implemented in coordination with federal authorities, both in Washington and at the senator’s private residences. Officials have not released further details regarding the nature of the reported threats.
You should be home right now. No, out of New York entirely. But Celine had spent months working toward her gallery opening, and you couldn’t miss it. Not that anyone here particularly cared who you were. No, they cared who your father was. And anyway, you’d heard Leonardo DiCaprio was around somewhere, so the focus wasn’t exactly on you. Or not entirely.
“Miss Vandspell.”
You turned, already knowing the voice. Louis, one of your bodyguards. “Yes?”
“Your car will be here in ten minutes.”
You nodded, offering him a polite smile before shifting your gaze to the man beside him. The other one. Javier. He didn’t react. Not a single muscle in his face moved.
They worked as a team. Synergy, to keep you safe. You didn’t know where Louis had come from, he had simply appeared one day, ten years ago, when your father introduced him and explained that he would be with you from then on. He was serious, rigid, somewhere in his fifties. He’d escorted you to school, stood watch at every dance, always there, even at a distance. And you knew he was your father’s line straight to you. Everything you did, your father knew, courtesy of Louis. Years of living under quiet surveillance, all in the name of your safety.
Javier was different. He showed up a year and a half ago, right when your father’s investigation kicked off. You didn’t know much about him, and you didn’t ask too much, just the basics. You’d seen him working for your father a handful of times, and then one morning he was in your apartment next to Louis, just like that.
Early forties, maybe. Quiet and serious. He gave nothing away about who he really was. Though you had caught it; small signs of impatience, brief looks of weariness more than once when he had to accompany you in public.
His eyes were onyx black, gleaming within a face that gave away absolutely nothing, again. Pure, unadulterated vacancy. And you know what they say about blank spaces; they’re just waiting for you to fill in the blanks with whatever idea suits you best.
A mysterious man whose name you’d pried out of mutual contacts. You had the highlight reel: retired agent, occasional magnet for controversy, and a reliable asset to your father. Strong hands.
The ambiguity fed you in bursts. You told yourself it was only natural, this is what happens when someone is around for more than twelve hours a day, nearly every day. And at the end of it all, you were just a curious woman.
He gave the distinct impression of a man living under heavy restraint. His shoulders were permanently knotted, his brow perpetually furrowed, and there was always something clenched in his jaw. And on rare occasions, you would catch the sound of a weary exhale; sometimes while he stood just outside your hotel room door. In the profound hush of a still night, it carried as clearly as if he were standing right beside you: a heavy, drawn out breath. Even through the wood of the door, his physical tension was palpable.
You knew he had no wife, no children. That was the very first thing you noticed the day you met; your eyes had instinctively found his hand and noted the absence of a ring. Somehow, it fit. Men who did what he did didn’t exactly build lives that stayed still. Not when their job was tailing someone for hours on end, following them from city to city like a shadow with a gun.
Some days your curiosity barely registered. Other days, it itched at you badly enough to make you want to ask questions; about him, his life, who he’d been before all this. But you always caught yourself before you crossed the line. There wasn’t much point asking a man like him anything personal. He wasn’t the type to answer, anyway.
Now, he stepped forward and opened the gallery door for you.
Another thing that had always been part of your life. You grew up with doors opening before you could reach them, cars waiting with engines running, routes mapped out for you; detours decided without your knowledge. Men in suits surrounding you, steadying you, taking you where you wanted to go and where you didn’t.
Your car door was already open when you stepped outside.
“I need to stop by my apartment—”
“Give my regards to your daddy.”
You stopped short. The scream never made it past your throat. One second you were standing there and the next, your whole body was soaked. Your eyes snapped shut, burning instantly. It hit all at once; your mouth, your nose, the back of your throat.
Gasoline.
“Louis—” you choked, hands flying to your face, smearing it away as panic surged. You grabbed the man beside you, fingers digging into his shoulders as he forced you forward.
“Get in the car. Inside. Head down,” he barked. It wasn’t Louis. Javier.
He shoved you toward the car, already moving faster than your mind could catch up. Louis’s voice rang somewhere in the distance: “Go, go!”
Javier pushed you into the backseat, one hand shielding your head as he forced you down. The door slammed shut behind you, sealing you in as he shoved you sideways.
“Vandspell. Now,” he ordered the driver.
You almost argued; told him no, that you had to, that you wanted to go to your apartment, but the words never quite made it out.
Your eyes burned. Your throat, too. It didn’t matter how many times you swallowed or how hard you scrubbed at your face with gasoline-soaked hands, it only made it worse.
“Stay still.”
His hand closed around your jaw, firm enough to keep you in place. You obeyed and a second later, Javier was carefully wiping your face with a towel.
“Who was it?” you asked as he moved the cloth over your eyes, more gently this time. “What did he look like?”
“Louis has him. Don’t worry about that.”
“That’s not what I asked.” Your voice came out sharp. You didn’t feel particularly inclined to be polite. Not now. Not like this.
“A man,” Javier said. “Wearing a balaclava.”
“Where’s Louis?”
It was the second time you’d asked, and the second time Javier ignored you. The first had been in the car, while he drove in absolute silence down the highway, refusing to tell you where the hell you were going, too. The second was now, as he pulled your suitcase from the trunk and started toward the cabin.
“Javier, you have to tell me if he’s okay.”
He stopped just before the short steps leading up to the porch and turned to face you.
“He’s fine. Louis is fine.”
“Is he coming with us?”
“I don’t know.” He turned back around and kept walking. Up the stairs, through the front door; though he didn’t actually step inside. He stayed planted in the doorway and jerked his chin once. “Get in.”
You tightened your grip on your bag strap and hurried after him. Your hair was still messy from the rushed shower you’d taken back at your father’s house, barely towel dried, and your throat still burned faintly from the gasoline you’d swallowed earlier.
Five hours away from Manhattan, your father kept a cabin hidden among the dense timber of the Adirondack Mountains. It was a lush, cold, and hostile wilderness during the winter months, and through all three hundred and sixty five nights of the year. The jagged peaks were hidden from view, masked by the thick treeline surrounding you, and while the mist was thin for now, you knew it would only thicken as the night went on.
You’d been here once before, when you were around ten. Your father had tucked you and your mother away here for a week. You remembered board games, hot chocolate, and men stationed outside with weapons slung over their shoulders. Men who spoke into bulky cellphones or radios that had looked ancient to you back then. Now you understood why; the signal out here was complete shit. Practically nonexistent.
"Drop it, don't touch that," Javier’s voice materialized behind you a split second before he snatched the phone from your hand.
“What are you doing?” You turned to face him.
The two of you stood in the living room, where the windows stretched floor to ceiling, though the gray light outside still left the cabin dim. Javier crossed the room and switched on one of the lamps beside the couch before slipping your phone into his pocket.
Then he stepped toward you.
“You’re not to contact anyone while we’re here. You understand me?”
“How exactly would I do that?” You crossed your arms. “We’re in the middle of nowhere. There’s no signal.”
Javier turned away and headed toward the small open kitchen a few feet off the living room.
“Why don’t you go take a proper shower instead? There’s more stuff for you in the red suitcase. Erica packed it.”
Erica. Your father’s housekeeper.
“You’re still not going to tell me what’s happening?” You followed after him, catching his shoulder with your hand and forcing him to look at you. “You seriously expect to drag me all the way out here, say ten words total and think that’s enough?”
“What else do you need to know?” he asked evenly. “A lunatic doused you in gasoline with a lighter in his hand. He was trying to hurt you.”
“What about my family? Are they safe back there? I told him he should’ve gotten out of New York—”
“They’re not after him.” He moved closer, his eyes locking onto yours. “They’re after you. They want to stop him from exposing whatever he found, and right now, you’re the only leverage they’ve got. You understand?”
“Yes, I do. I’m not stupid.” Your voice sharpened. “They wanted to use me as a threat. Fine. But if that’s the case, why try to kill me on the first shot? Wouldn’t it make more sense to send a warning first?”
Javier’s jaw tightened as he took a step back. Your eyes swept over his face in a flash.
“So now you’re critiquing their methods?” he asked.
“I’m just saying. If they wanted to hurt me, going for it on the first try without even making a threat first feels pretty sloppy,” you said, folding your arms across your chest. “Why’d they do that?”
He gave a faint shake of his head, lips pressing into a thin line. Then he tipped his chin up just slightly.
“Listen, why don’t you go get settled in? I’ll check the property and finish unloading the car.”
“You’re letting me go to my room alone?”
Javier’s eyes flicked toward yours. “For a minute. You’re a big girl, aren’t you? I’m sure you can survive without me for a couple of minutes.”
You hummed softly and took a step back, uncrossing your arms.
“Alright. If I need you, I’ll call,” you said, turning around. “Unless, of course, they gag me first.”
Behind you, you heard him scoff.
From your bedroom window, you could watch night settling in for good. The view from where you stood was limited, but beautiful all the same; a long stretch of trees, and beyond them, just the faintest glimpse of water catching what little light remained. The mountains in the distance were barely visible now, their peaks rising behind the dark canopy of green.
The window was cracked open just enough for cool air to slip inside, fresh against your skin and enough to leave goosebumps trailing down your arms. Your body still held onto the heat from the shower.
You could still smell gasoline, though at this point you figured the scent had burned itself into your nose. You’d scrubbed yourself down with soap over and over again, brushed your teeth at least three times after getting out, then sprayed perfume through your hair before blow-drying it. Thank God Erica had packed one in the red suitcase.
Javier had knocked on the bathroom door ten minutes ago and walked away after you told him everything was fine. No intruder hiding in the shower with you, thankfully.
Now, as you adjusted your clean clothes against your skin and your stomach growled in protest, you glanced down at the watch on your wrist. Eight thirty at night.
You found Javier crouched in front of the fireplace when you came downstairs.
“I’m starving. Is there anything in the fridge?”
You knew he’d stopped at a gas station in the middle of some tiny town on the drive out here. You hadn’t seen what he bought or how much of it, only that he’d walked out carrying a massive box, shoved it into the trunk without explanation, then gone back inside for more.
“Yeah. Check the counter too,” he said.
You turned on your heel and headed where he’d pointed. The cardboard box sat open on the counter: ground coffee, black tea, three different kinds of cookies, protein bars, several packs of pasta, salt, sugar, rye bread, every canned thing imaginable including beans, chickpeas, soups, giant jars of sauce, bags upon bags of beef jerky and mixed nuts, plus fruit like apples and oranges and a decent amount of vegetables. Off to the side sat two massive gallons of mineral water.
“How long are we staying here?” you asked as you moved toward the fridge.
When you opened it, you found trays of meat and four sandwiches wrapped tightly in plastic.
“I don’t know.” His voice sounded closer now; he was walking into the kitchen.
“That’s a lot of food.”
“Better too much than not enough, right?”
Without answering, you reached in and grabbed one of the sandwiches. It was huge. A sticker across the top listed the ingredients.
“Says it was made today. Think that’s actually true?”
You glanced over at him. Javier stepped closer and tilted his head slightly.
“If it’s not rotten, give it a shot.”
You pressed your tongue against the inside of your cheek. You weren’t in the mood to argue about food, and you definitely weren’t in the mood to cook for yourself.
“Want to eat with me?” you asked, leaning toward the fridge again. “Louis always eats with me.”
“I know. I stand by the door while he does, remember?” He crossed his arms, leaning back against the counter. “Nobody’s doing that for me now.”
“We’re in the middle of nowhere,” you said, pulling out another sandwich. “I think you can survive sitting down to eat with me.”
A minute after you dropped into one of the dining chairs, rain began tapping softly against the cabin roof. Outside, the fog had swallowed almost everything whole, turning the world beyond the windows into a blur of silver and black. Darkness stretched endlessly in every direction except for the moonlight; full tonight, huge and bright enough that its pale glow burst through the mist like scattered frost.
Javier (much against his better judgment, you suspected) sat across from you at the other end of the table, holding his brisket and vegetable sandwich with a faint frown as he took a bite.
Carefully, you peeled the lettuce from yours and set it on the wrapper. It smelled incredible; your mouth watered instantly. You took a bite and closed your eyes for a second at the taste.
“Oh my God, this is so good.”
Javier let out a quiet huff of laughter. It was brief and soft. “No lettuce?”
You waited until you swallowed. “Lettuce is the first thing that goes bad. Tomatoes too, but lettuce dies first.”
“It looked fresh enough.”
“I’m not risking it.”
He tilted his head slightly and took another bite.
Between you sat two glasses of water and an open bag of chips. Your gaze drifted through the glass in front of him, catching the warped image of his hand beneath the waterline; fingers distorted as they curled tightly, for some reason, around the handle of the butter knife resting beside his wrapper.
Your eyes traveled upward, past his watch, past the smooth skin of his forearm dusted with fine dark hair.
“Do you have a girl?”
The question came out so bluntly, stripped clean of the usual social cushioning, that he stopped chewing.
Honestly, it surprised you too.
The hand holding your sandwich lowered to the table little by little.
Javier looked at you with an unreadable expression, though you caught the slightest tightening near the corners of his eyes.
“That’s… none of your business.”
“So that’s a no?” Heat crawled into your cheeks. “A man like you—hard to believe you spend all your time alone when you’re not standing behind me.”
His jaw flexed as he chewed. One, two, three, four… five times before swallowing.
“Are you bored?”
You smiled faintly. “I’m asking a question. It’s been a long day, and we’re running out of things to talk about.”
Javier exhaled quietly and glanced toward the kitchen counter behind you.
“I move around too much for that. This kind of job doesn’t exactly leave room for domestic bliss.” His eyes flicked back to yours. “Now finish your sandwich and get some sleep.”
“You’re redirecting,” you pointed out with a small, knowing smile. “Is she in New York? Or back wherever you came from?”
That finally pulled his full attention back to you.
“You’re too curious for your own good, you know that?” he said. “Dangerous habit, sticking your nose into things that don’t concern you.”
“Maybe I am bored,” you teased, lifting one shoulder lightly. Your gaze wandered over the breadth of his shoulders before returning to his face. “Besides, you’ve spent an entire year following me around and learning every detail of my routine. I think I’m entitled to a few answers. Unless the truth’s just painfully boring.”
A crooked, amused smile tugged at his mouth.
“I don’t think you’re entitled to anything.”
Your brows lifted slightly.
“And boring isn’t the word I’d use anyway,” he added.
“Then what is the word?” You tilted your head, hair spilling over your shoulder. “Complicated? Or are you just rusty? I saw the way you looked at that girl at the gala last month — the one who tried to give you her number. Were you about to frisk her?”
Javier leaned forward, eyes narrowing, though there was a flicker of reluctant amusement buried beneath the irritation.
“Maybe she was a security risk.”
You smiled. “She was five two in four inch heels. The only thing she threatened was your peace of mind.” A soft laugh slipped out of you. “Admit it. You’re out of practice.”
A dry sound escaped him, and halfway to a laugh he swallowed it down behind a frown.
“Why don’t we try eating in silence instead, huh? Maybe you’re just hungry. And tired.”
You let the sandwich fall onto its wrapper.
“Don’t do that.”
His eyes locked onto yours.
“Don’t talk to me like I’m a child. I’m not.” You lifted your chin slightly. “I’m used to Louis acting like that because he’s been doing it for a decade, but you’re not Louis.” Your voice stayed even. “And I’m not tired.”
“How?” he asked, and you noticed the defensive edge had left his voice, settling into something quieter. “It’s been a long day. Longer than most. You should be exhausted.”
“I don’t sleep much, and you know that.” You reached for your glass of water. “Besides, it’s too quiet out here.”
You took another bite of your sandwich and ignored the way he kept watching you. His fingers tapped once against the wooden table.
“Well, you’re strangely calm considering what happened today. How are you feeling? Really.”
You swallowed your food. In the privacy of your own head, you thought about the smell of gasoline; the slick, half-thick texture of it soaked into your skin and clothes.
“I’m okay. I mean, my throat still burns a little, and I’ll probably smell gasoline in my sleep for the next week, but I’m okay.”
Javier’s jaw tightened. He looked down at his hands.
“Most people would be scared.”
“Maybe I’ve spent too much time around men like you and my father,” you said with a faint smile. “Eventually you learn how to compartmentalize. Or maybe I just haven’t processed how close it actually was because you were there.” You tilted your head slightly. “Give it a few days. Maybe the shock will catch up to me then.”
“Huh.” His eyes lifted back to yours. “You’re tougher than you look.”
Your ego swelled at that despite yourself.
“You think so?”
“Yeah. I figured that out a while ago.” One corner of his mouth twitched faintly. “That, combined with your invasive questions, makes it pretty hard to see you as some porcelain doll.”
Your fingers curled tighter around your glass, though you didn’t lift it. You kept your eyes fixed on him.
“Is that really what you think I am? A porcelain doll?”
Javier pressed his lips together and stayed perfectly still. His gaze didn’t leave yours.
He didn’t answer.
“You’re wrong,” you continued, leaning a little farther over the table. “Porcelain’s fragile. It cracks the second things get bad. I’ve spent my whole life in houses where the walls have ears and every move is planned before it happens. What other choice did I have?”
“I don’t think you’re made of porcelain,” he said quietly. “Not even close. That’s what I meant. But I've heard people talk about you when I first started working for your dad. That's all.”
You blinked once. “Then what do you think I am?”
You caught the way his eyes almost smiled, completely at odds with the rest of his expression. He was thinking something.
But what?
He lifted his chin slightly and tilted his head.
"You're more like… like the glass they use in those high-rise buildings in the city," he said, holding your eyes. "You know, looks delicate from the street, like you could put a fist through it if you tried. But it's reinforced. It's built to take the pressure of the wind and the heat without cracking." A faint smirk pulled at the corner of his mouth. “You’re not fragile. You’re just used to being handled with gloves.”
The honesty in his voice made you go still. So did the smugness.
Javier looked calm, but the feeling was there in the smallest details; in the flicker of his expression, the confidence sitting quietly beneath every word.
“And what happens if you take the gloves off? Can you do that for me?”
He froze. His dark eyes locked onto your face and moved over it with maddening slowness, never losing intensity. The surprise wasn’t invisible this time. He started studying you with a heaviness that felt almost physical, like being touched.
A muscle jumped in his jaw. His gaze dropped briefly to your hand resting on the table before returning to your eyes. His pupils had blown wide.
“You don’t know what you’re asking for,” he said.
Every trace of professionalism had vanished from his voice.
“Don’t I?”
“Of course not.”
“And how exactly would you know that?” you asked with a smile. “I wasn’t being very subtle, was I?”
Javier tilted his head, studying you a little more carefully now.
“Vandspell,” he said slowly, “what exactly are you trying to say?”
Oh, he could not ask you that while looking at you like that.
You’d spent a year and a half with him at your back, following you everywhere. Of course you’d noticed the way he looked at you sometimes; rare, but obvious when it happened. And maybe it was the aftershock finally kicking in, or maybe today had knocked something loose inside your head, because suddenly you felt very, very capable of saying exactly what you wanted.
What was he going to do? Run?
And honestly, Javier didn’t strike you as the type of man who’d go tattling to your father about your behavior. No; he seemed much more like the type who’d join in.
So, fuck it.
“You know exactly what I’m talking about,” you said. “I’m curious.”
“Curious about what?”
“You.”
His brows lifted. “Me?”
You nodded.
“What useful thing could you possibly want to know about me?”
“Oh, a few things.”
You leaned farther onto the table. He swallowed.
“You know, I looked into you a little when my father first hired you.” You tilted your head. “Almost everything I found was about your professional life. That was disappointing.”
“My professional life disappointed you?”
“No. Not being able to find out anything about your personal life disappointed me.”
A quiet huff of laughter escaped him. “What could you possibly want to know about me? Let me ask again.”
“Do you have a girl?”
Javier hid the beginning of a smirk behind his hand. “No. I already told you that.”
“So nobody’s waiting for you back in the city?” you pressed, keeping your voice casual even as your heartbeat picked up against your ribs. “No one complaining about your hours or how impossible you are to deal with when you're tired after work?”
“No.” His eyes stayed fixed on yours. “No one’s waiting.”
“Good.” The word slipped out before you could stop it.
“Don’t say that.”
“Why not? It’s true.” You refused to look away. “I’m glad there’s nobody else. Is that so wrong?”
He let out a breath that almost sounded like a laugh and shook his head, looking down at his sandwich.
“What?” you asked lightly. “I’m just curious.”
He leaned forward just slightly. Like standing one step from the edge of something steep.
“No. You aren’t.” His tone flattened again. “You’re bored. We’re trapped in a cabin with no TV, no signal, and you’ve spent your whole life being the center of attention. Now it’s just me, so you’re fishing for a reaction.” His eyes narrowed faintly. “You’re poking at me to see if the hired help has a pulse.” A pause. “Why don’t you save these games for your boyfriend?”
That made you smile.
“You can’t stand Wes.”
Javier lifted his brows and tipped his head to the side.
“I’ve seen the way you look at him,” you continued. “The eye rolls every time he opens his mouth. Those exhausted sighs you let out whenever you’re stuck standing next to us.” Your smile widened slightly. “You’re really not that good at pretending.”
“Oh yeah?” he said dryly. “Do tell.”
“Well, I think it’s only fair, don’t you?” you said. “If you get to spend almost two years watching me, then I get to spend almost two years watching you too.” You tilted your head slightly. “What’s it like? Spending hours every day just… waiting for me to finish dinner or for some meeting to finally end?”
“It’s part of the paycheck. You get used to it.”
“That doesn’t answer my question.”
“Alright,” he said, his voice dropping lower. “Since you’re so curious, let’s flip it around. What exactly do you think you’re doing right now?” His eyes stayed pinned to yours. “Because I know for a fact you’re not this talkative in the city. Half the time you barely say two words to me in the car.”
You swallowed once.
“Maybe it’s the lack of an audience.”
“I don’t buy it.”
You shrugged and picked your sandwich back up, taking a small bite. Across from you, he kept watching.
“You’re not wrong, by the way,” he said after a moment. “About Wes.”
He shifted slightly, resting an arm along the back of the chair beside him. His eyes drifted toward the window to your left, the shadow of a grimace crossing his face.
“I find him incredibly childish,” he admitted, shaking his head. “The way he talks, the way he carries himself… I honestly thought you would’ve realized that by now. I figured someone as observant as you would’ve gotten tired of the performance months ago.”
You smiled, feeling a strange little victory in his honesty “He can be immature, but he’s not a bad guy.”
“It’s exhausting to watch, especially when I’m the one making sure his complete lack of situational awareness doesn’t get you both killed.” His jaw tightened. “Like at that party last week. The way he practically tried to drag you into that car? He was wasted.”
Your eyes flickered at the memory.
Yeah. Wes had been an idiot. He’d tried to get behind the wheel of his Lambo while drunk out of his mind and high on molly, then nearly thrown a tantrum when you told him you were going home alone. Javier had pulled you away by the arm before you even had the chance to argue.
“You’re a lot of things,” Javier continued, “but you’re not stupid. So yeah, it’s frustrating watching you settle for someone who doesn’t even know which direction the wind’s blowing.”
“A lot of things?” you repeated with a smile, brows pulling together slightly. “What exactly is that supposed to mean?”
He shook his head once. “Nothing. You’re persistent. Extremely persistent.” He nodded toward your sandwich. “Come on, eat. You’re hungry, aren’t you? Let’s finish dinner so I can get back to doing my job.”
“Your job is watching me, Javier,” you reminded him softly. “And I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere. So watch me all you want.”
Surrounded by darkness, pure cold air, and a room you didn’t fully recognize, your hand flew to your chest as your eyes snapped open wide with panic. A bolt of lightning had struck somewhere nearby, violent enough to rattle the windowpanes, but even then, you couldn’t tell whether it was the thunder that had dragged you awake, or the nightmare still clawing at the inside of your head.
Outside, the rain fell in a heavy torrent, its frantic galloping against the roof mimicking the rhythm in your chest. You grabbed your phone to check the time: 3:00 AM. No, 3:31. And for a fleeting second, your mind drifted back to the legends whispered by schoolmates years and years ago. They said that at 3:33 AM, the veil thins, and creatures lurking in the cracks of the day emerge; it was the hour when the impossible and unusual became reality.
The room felt cavernous, its high corners swallowing the light and casting long jagged shadows. And the door stood half open, revealing nothing but pitch black hallway beyond it.
You pushed the blankets aside and lowered your feet onto the floor. Freezing.
Phone clutched tightly in your hand, you stepped into the hallway and pushed the flashlight over it, casting a pale beam over every step as you followed it toward the staircase.
“Javier?”
BOOM.
Another crack of thunder jolted through the house, making you jump in place. Your head whipped around instantly… Had the floor creaked behind you?
Your heart raced at a frantic pace as you rushed down the stairs, ignoring the thudding in your chest and the biting chill crawling up your legs.
Below, the living room flickered to life every few seconds, caught in the pale erratic flashes of lightning. The fireplace offered a pulsing warm glow that bled across the rug and the couch across from it, and on the coffee table sat a pack of cigarettes and a handgun. But Javier was nowhere to be seen.
You scanned the room, searching for a flashlight or anything useful, but found nothing. You spun on your heel and—
"Shit!"
Just as another bolt of lightning tore through the sky, bathing the room in a ghostly white glare, Javier appeared right in front of you.
Drenched to the bone, with wet hair plastered to his forehead, he stood there holding a heavy flashlight and a set of keys.
"You... you scared the shit out of me," you mumbled, recoiling a step. You knit your brows together. "What happened?"
"The power’s out," he rasped.
"I know that."
"The storm must've taken out a line down the road. Go to the fireplace; I’ve got the fire going. It’s the only place that’ll stay warm."
He brushed past you and stopped by the couch. He reached down, took the weapon, and tucked it out of sight.
"Sit," he commanded.
Without a word, you obeyed; the cold was becoming unbearable and exhaustion weighed heavy on your eyelids. You walked over and sank into the soft cushions of the couch. You were wearing only an oversized t-shirt that left your thighs exposed to the air; instinctively, you pulled the hem of the fabric down with one hand to cover yourself.
He vanished from your sight then, and you flicked off your phone’s flashlight, tossing the device onto the coffee table like the useless piece of hardware it had become. Before you, the fire roared, flames dancing restlessly from side to side. The warmth helped, but barely.
“Here.”
At the sound of his voice, you turned your head toward him. Javier stood behind the couch.
Without a word, he draped a thick heavy blanket over your shoulders. His fingers were still wet and freezing, and they lingered briefly against the back of your neck; the touch made you shiver. A second later, he pulled away and moved around the couch, sinking onto the opposite end with enough distance between you to feel intentional. He barely moved after that.
Water continued dripping from his clothes, leaving dark stains across the upholstery as the storm raged outside.
“You’re soaked,” you said quietly, your eyes trailing over him. “Why were you even outside?”
“Checking the power lines.”
His gaze never left the fire.
You frowned, watching the fabric of his shirt cling to his skin like a second layer of cold.
“Why don’t you change?”
“Don’t have anything here.” His jaw tightened faintly. “Louis is bringing the rest of the stuff tomorrow. Clothes included.”
“I’m sorry.”
In the ensuing silence, the reality of the situation felt heavier than the wool on your shoulders. The entire trip had been so rushed that neither of you had stopped to consider that a storm of this magnitude could leave you trapped and empty handed.
What if Louis couldn't reach you tomorrow?
As was his custom, your father would surely send more than one man. Javier, Louis, maybe Renzo, and likely Nora, who usually accompanied you on matters like this. But if the downpour persisted and the roads became impassable, there was no telling if they’d make it.
"So you're just going to stay like that? Drenched?"
“Yes.”
“You could dry off, you know,” you insisted, pulling the blanket tighter around yourself. “It’s not a big deal if you take the clothes off. But if you stay wet, you’re definitely gonna get sick.” You nodded toward the hallway. “There are towels in the closet.”
Javier seemed to process your words with a pause. For a moment, the only sound was the wind lashing against the windowpanes and the rumble of the sky.
His fingers brushed the edge of his sodden cuff, hesitating.
"Your hair is dripping," you added, as the final blow to his resistance.
A quiet sigh slipped out of him and he pushed himself to his feet. Grabbing the flashlight from the coffee table, he disappeared down the hallway without another word, as his silhouette was swallowed by darkness and the sound of his footsteps echoed across the wooden floorboards.
You took advantage of his absence to burrow deeper into the heavy blanket. Tucking your legs onto the couch, you leaned back, sinking into the cushions until only your eyes peered over the edge of the wool. The fire’s heat was finally taking hold, numbing your limbs and stilling the tremors in your body.
A moment later, Javier returned.
The jacket, shirt and jeans were gone. He walked with his torso completely bare, revealing a landscape of muscle and warm-toned skin. He wore only a towel wrapped low, clinging precariously to the line of his hips.
You fell silent, a sudden knot tightening in your throat. Your eyes betrayed you, tracing the breadth of his shoulders and the firmness of his chest, where traces of dampness still glistened. Your gaze drifted downward involuntarily, following the thin line of hair below his navel that disappeared beneath the waist of the towel.
A heat flared within you that had nothing to do with the hearth. You quickly averted your eyes toward the fire, hoping the dancing shadows on your cheeks would mask the unmistakable creep of a blush.
"Better," he said.
Javier sat back down, and the contrast was nearly unbearable. You remained motionless, your gaze fixed on the fire, though your eyes weren't truly seeing the flames. Internally, your mind was a chaotic mess of self-reproach; you thought this had to be some cruel joke, immediate karma for trying to toy with him during dinner. You had enjoyed every charged look and every double entendre, wanting to see if you could crack that stone mask he always wore. You wanted to provoke him, yes—but now that he was right there, half naked, the situation had spiraled out of your control.
A persistent tingle stirred in your lower abdomen, a pang of anticipation that you tried to ignore by pressing your legs together under the blanket. Your heart, ever the traitor, thrashed against your ribs with an erratic rhythm; you weren't worried about him hearing it, though, the thunder provided the perfect cover.
Javier let out a long exhale and leaned back against the cushions, stretching one arm across the top of the couch. His fingers came to rest mere inches from your back.
“You’re still shaking,” he observed. “You still cold?”
You turned your head just enough to see him out of the corner of your eye. He wasn't looking at you; his eyes were fixed on the ceiling, but his jaw was set tight.
"Yeah," you admitted in a whisper, clutching the edges of the blanket tighter against your chest. "I'm still a little cold."
You dared to turn fully to catch his profile. He remained there, letting the hearth’s warmth lick across his skin. He looked like a statue carved from only shadows and orange light.
"And you?" you asked. "Aren't you cold? You're almost... well, you aren't wearing much."
"A little. Did you get any sleep?"
"Just a bit," you confessed. "You?"
"No."
"Why?"
“Got a lot on my mind,” he muttered. And this time, he didn’t avoid your gaze.
He looked at you directly, with an intensity that made you feel strangely small and hyperaware of every inch of yourself all at once.
That tingle in your stomach flared again.
"A lot? Like what?"
Instead of an answer, a faint, arrogant smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. He remained silent, turning back toward the fire and running a finger over his mustache.
Oh, playing the mysterious type, are we?
Two could play that game.
Without a word, you let the blanket slide from your shoulders, allowing the chill of the room to bite at your skin. You rose from the couch and crossed to the fireplace, and felt his gaze searing into your back; you knew exactly how the hem of your shirt rode up with every step. You knew you were showing just the right amount of skin, and that as you leaned over to reach for the poker, your tights and ass were perfectly framed by the glow of the embers.
You gripped the iron tool and shifted the logs, moving with an unnecessary focus and tending to the fire while the heat enveloped you. When you finished, you set the poker back in its stand and turned around with excruciating patience.
You found him exactly as you expected: staring. His gaze was so heavy, so raw, it felt as though it could physically pin you against the wall. You didn't flinch. You held his stare and began to trace your own waist through the thin fabric of the shirt. You moved your fingers with a gentle touch, stroking upward, dragging the hem higher inch by inch, and stopped only when your fingers reached your naked waist, letting the garment hang dangerously high.
You stood still, waiting for him to make a move. But Javier didn't stop you, nor did he look away. Instead, he shifted his hips slightly forward on the couch, and you noted, with a silent surge of triumph, the way his breathing began to quicken.
"Do you want me to keep going... or do you want me to stop?" you asked.
He remained incredibly still. “How the hell am I supposed to look your daddy in the eye when I cash my paycheck?”
You offered a lopsided smile, feeling the power of the moment firmly in your grasp. You began to close the distance between you, step by step. When you were directly in front of him, you leaned down, resting your arms on the back of the couch just behind his head, trapping him within your space.
“Oh, come on,” you whispered, tilting closer. “You really wanna pretend you care?”
Your lips hovered dangerously near his.
“You’ll put on that good-man act,” you murmured. “Smile nice and polite while your eyes give absolutely nothing away.” Your gaze flicked briefly toward his mouth. “Such a good man. Always protecting me.”
Javier let out a low growl, and his hand clamped firmly around your wrist.
With a sudden, violent yank, he pulled you down onto him. You gasped as you collided with the heat of his bare chest, and your hands instinctively grasped his shoulders before sliding down over the hard ridges of his pectorals.
He wasted no time, hauling you up until you were straddling him, your bare thighs gripping his waist. One of his hands surged upward, locking his fingers around your jaw. He squeezed just enough to force your head back, and tilted your face toward his as he hauled you closer. His breath fanned across your lips.
"Does anyone know about this?" he rasped. "That you wanna go behind your daddy’s back and your rich little boyfriend just to get fucked by your bodyguard?"
Your heart hammered so violently against your ribs you thought it might shatter them. "No."
Javier’s eyes darkened, turning into two pits of black ink. "Tell me, how does that boy like to fuck you? I bet he’s so wasted half the time he can’t even get his dick hard enough to do the job. What a waste."
He dragged his thumb across your lower lip, pressing down and stretching your mouth open.
"He likes it on his back," you whispered, your voice trembling as you leaned into his touch. "Or doggy style, if he’s feeling adventurous."
You moved your mouth closer to his, so close your lips brushed his; his thumb was still hooked over your bottom lip.
"And what about you?" you challenged, your eyes locked onto his. "How would you fuck me?"
He leaned in, his lips brushing the soft skin of your ear. "I’m not really good with words, sweetheart."
In response, your hand traveled slowly up the expanse of his bare chest. "Then show me."
You pulled back just enough to catch his gaze before reaching for the hem of your shirt, and dragged the fabric upward and over your head, tossing it into the shadows. Javier fell into silence; his eyes tracked your movement, dropping to your bare breasts and devouring the sight of you in the amber firelight. Beneath you, you felt him surge; thick and rock hard, straining against the thin towel directly against you.
You reached up, cupping his face with one hand, and your thumb grazed his cheekbone. Slowly, you closed the distance, pressing your lips to his in a kiss that was deceptively tender. You parted your lips for him, your tongue sliding in to taste him.
As you deepened the kiss, your other hand wound into the hair at the nape of his neck, pulling firmly to tilt his head back. You caught his lower lip between your teeth and gave a playful tug.
He let out a growl, so animalistic and raw that vibrated from his chest straight into you. His hands slammed onto your backside and his fingers pressed deep into the flesh of your glutes. He jerked your hips forward, grinding you ruthlessly against his throbbing erection; the thin barrier of the towel did nothing to hide the fact that he was ready to snap.
And then, he broke the kiss.
"You have no idea what you’ve started," he rasped.
Javier didn’t wait for an answer. He attacked your neck, his teeth grazing your skin and his tongue swirling over the spot where your pulse was jumping. One of his hands slid from your hip, traveling up your ribcage until he captured your breast, squeezing it and flicking your nipple over and over with his thumb, watching as it peaked under his touch.
His other hand didn't stay still; he reached down between your bodies, his fingers hooking under the edge of your panties and shoving them aside. When he found you, he let out a whimper; Javier buried two fingers inside you with a sudden thrust, his thumb finding your clit and rubbing it with such a soft and heavy pressure that your back arched as soon as you felt him.
"Yes, fuck" you whimpered, your head falling back as the friction made you shiver.
He just watched you unravel, moving his fingers and letting them get wet. There was a triumphant smirk ghosting his lips.
A moment later, he withdrew his fingers; glistening and wet, he brought them to his mouth, tasting you without breaking eye contact. It was so filthy; no one had ever looked at you this way. Or at least, it had never felt this natural and raw before.
He gripped your waist again, his knuckles white with the effort of holding back.
"Not here," he gritted out. "Get on the rug. Lay down in front of the fire."
Obediently, you slid off his lap as Javier stood with you. You turned away, dropping to all fours on the rug and crawling toward the hearth. Every muscle in your back and hips flexed under the orange glow, your skin prickling as the intense heat of the flames washed over you and your body moved with a deliberate sway of your hips, feeling his eyes burning a hole in your spine, before settling onto your backside in the center of the rug.
Standing right over you, he reached for the knot of the towel at his waist and jerked it free, tossing it carelessly onto the couch.
There he was, fully exposed in the flickering light. He was massive; his cock thick, angry and fully erect, pulsing with every thud of his heart. A single glistening bead of pre-cum clung to the tip, reflecting the fire. It watered your mouth. A second later, he wrapped a large hand around the base of his shaft, grazing the dark curls of hair at his groin, and began to slowly pump himself.
The sight of him doing that just for you made your breath hitch. The payoff to every thought you’d had about this hard quiet man over the past year couldn’t be sweeter.
Without breaking eye contact, you hooked your fingers into the lace of your panties and dragged them down your legs, kicking them aside. You lay back on the rug, spreading your legs wide until you were completely open to him.
The heat of the fire was nothing compared to the ache between your thighs. You slid your hand down and your fingers disappeared into your own wetness. You began to stroke yourself, circling your clit with a slick pressure while watching him stroke himself right above you.
"Look at you," Javier rasped. His hand moved faster now. "Open like a gift for me. Soaked and desperate."
You let out a broken moan, arching your back as your fingers worked harder, slicking your folds with your own cream. "Don't make me wait."
He stopped mid-stroke, his chest heaving as he stared down at the way you were touching yourself. His face was full of pure delicious lust.
Javier dropped to his knees between your thighs a second later, the heat from the hearth making his shoulders glisten like oil. But he didn't rush; he started by dragging his fingertips along the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, teasing the edges of your wetness until you were squirming beneath him. Then, he pressed his palm flat against your mound, grinding in a slow circle that forced a jagged breath from your lungs.
He slid two thick fingers into you, pushing deep until he hit hilt, and started a slow soft pump; in and out, stretching you, letting you feel the sheer size of him through his hands. Then, he hooked his fingers upward, findind that one delicious spot that always made your toes curl.
In the privacy of your own company, you’d driven yourself to the edge with this exact motion more times than you could count. Half the time, Javier had been right on the other side of the door, completely unaware; you knew how to stay quiet. But your fingers were nothing like his. Not in the way they moved, not in their size, and definitely not because this time, it was him doing it. It was enough to make stars burst behind your eyes.
The sound was so filthy, so wet.
"You hear that?" he muttered. "You're so fucking wet for me, baby, aren't you?"
You threw your head back, your cheeks burning with a feverish flush. Every time he curled his fingers, a hot jolt shot through your spine. When you opened your eyes for a fleeting second, all you could see was the orange roar of the fire, blurring into a haze of pleasure.
Suddenly, he leaned down, burying his face between your legs. When his tongue lashed against your clit, you let out a strangled sob, your fingers instinctively diving into his thick hair, clutching him against you. He was destroying you, his mouth working with punishing hunger that pushed you right to the edge of unraveling.
You began to toss your head, your hips bucking uselessly as you tried to find friction. You were so close.
But then, he pulled away abruptly. His fingers vanished, his mouth left your skin, and the sudden cold made you whimper in protest.
"What do you want?" he gritted out through clenched teeth. His chest was heaving, his face was inches from yours.
You ran a trembling hand through your hair, staring up at him with blown out pupils as your breasts were rising and falling frantically.
Javier reached down, his large hand sliding under your hip to give your ass a stinging slap that made you jump.
"I just asked you a question," he growled. "What do you want?"
You pushed yourself up onto your elbows; your hair was a mess around your shoulders.
"I want you to fuck me," you breathed. "So fucking hard and deep, Javier. Can you do that for me?"
A dark, dangerous shadow crossed his face. Slowly, he nodded, his gaze locked onto yours with a promise of total ruin.
"Yeah," he rasped, reaching for his cock. "I can do that."
Javier gripped his shaft and guided the head to your entrance, which was already dripping and swollen. He didn't ease in; with a low grunt, he lunged forward, burying his entire length inside you in one deep soul shattering thrust.
The air left your lungs in a wheeze. You were stretched to the absolute limit, your internal muscles spasming around him as he bottomed out. He stayed there for a moment, buried deep, as his forehead rested against yours.
"You're so fucking tight," he choked out.
You smiled, suddenly cock-drunk. And he began to hammer into you with a raw intensity, his hips hitting yours with a slap so loud it echoed over the crackling fire and your heartbeat. He reached down and yanked one of your knees upward, pinning it against your chest so he could drive even deeper.
"Yes, please," you sobbed, your head thrashing against the rug. "Please, don't stop... oh god, don't stop."
He leaned down, his mouth crashing against yours in a kiss for a moment before his attention shifted to your neck, his teeth sinking into the delicate cord of your throat. You screamed into him, your own teeth catching his shoulder, biting down hard enough to leave marks as the pleasure became too much to bear. It felt like your nervous system was short-circuiting, every nerve ending screaming under the friction of him filling you.
Javier let out a loud, pained moan and his pace became frantic. He reached up, and his large hand wrapped around your throat; not to choke, but to pin you, to claim you. He forced you to look at him.
"Mirame a los ojos," he rasped. "Mira como estás. You think that rich boy could ever make you cry like this? You think he knows how to break you open?"
He slammed into you again, harder this time, harder and harder, his thumb stroking your jaw while his fingers tightened slightly on your neck. Your breath was completely destroyed, coming in tiny pathetic hitches.
"You’re mine tonight," he growled. "Mine. Just my cock stretching you out until you can't think of anyone else. Say it. Tell me who's fucking you. Say it."
"You," you gasped, your vision blurring as you neared the ledge. "You are... Javier... please…"
He let out another groan, his muscles coiling like a spring as he prepared to lose the last of his control.
The sound was absolute filth and you loved it. You could feel yourself overflowing, your own heat and cream coating his shaft and dripping down the curve of your ass, slicking the insides of your thighs until every thrust felt like sliding through hot velvet.
Javier let out a ragged uneven breath. He reached down, hooking his forearms under your pits and hauling your upper body off the rug until you were arched toward him.
"Look at you," he commanded. "Look how well you're taking me."
You forced your eyes open, glancing down through a haze of sweat and pleasure to see the primal sight of his thick cock disappearing into you and pulling out glistening with your nectar, over and over.
"See how sweet you are for me?" he growled. "How you take every inch like you were made for it?"
Before you could even gasp, he shifted his grip; his hand buried deep into the hair at the nape of your neck and jerking your head back. He crashed his mouth against yours in a desperate kiss.
You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him flush against you as your breasts crushed into his damp chest, and hooked your legs high around his waist, locking your ankles behind his back.
"Please... yes, right there, Javi," you sobbed into his mouth, your internal muscles clenching around him. "I'm so close... I’m right there."
"I know, baby," he gritted out.
He was losing it too; the measured man was gone, replaced by a one driven by pure lust. His skin was scorching, slick with sweat that acted like a lubricant between your bodies, and for the first time all night, you were no longer cold.
His movements became desperate. "Don't you move," he hissed. "Take all of it. Take it, take it, you're such a fucking good girl."
The climax hit you hard and soft at the same time; your entire body spasmed, your back arching off the rug in a messy line as the first wave of the orgasm tore through you. Debilitating, high-pitched whimpers escaped your throat and got lost in the roar of the fire. You were unraveling, every muscle in your cunt clenching around him in a desperate pulse that seemed to have no end.
Javier didn't let up; his movements became erratic and frantic as he felt you shattering beneath him. His fingers dug into your waist with bruising force, his knuckles white as he anchored himself inside of you; you reached for him blindly, your hands roaming over his sweat slicked shoulders, his heaving chest, his jaw.
You pulled him down, kissing him, your teeth catching his lip and drawing a metallic tang of blood. And as you finally broke apart for air, a thin, silver thread of saliva lingered between your mouths.
He let out a broken moan, his face contorting into a pained beautiful expression that looked almost like he was weeping. He pressed his forehead hard against yours, his eyes squeezed shut as he fought to stay upright.
"Come inside me," you choked out, your voice a wrecked whisper against his lips. "Come inside me, Javi... please…"
With three more violent thrusts, his entire frame went rigid. A low sob erupted from his lungs as he finally surrendered, and you felt the scorching heat of him flooding you, wave after wave of his release pumping deep into your womb, filling the space he’d spent the last minutes claiming.
He went still then, buried to the hilt, his weight collapsing forward as he trembled against you, savoring the dying echoes of the friction and the absolute chaos of the storm outside.
Slowly, he let his forehead fall against yours, and your hands slid up his broad shoulders until they curled around the back of his neck.
You smiled softly. “Where’s the serious man who wouldn’t even look me in the eye during the drive?” you teased. “You look different now.”
Javier lifted his head just enough to meet your gaze. His hand brushed gently along your cheek before he gave a faint shake of his head.
“He’s gone. You buried him the second you took that shirt off. I’m supposed to be the one protecting you, but God help me… I’d do it all over again just to hear you fall apart like that one more time.”
His words felt like a victory; they sent a thrill through your stomach.
“Well,” you murmured, your fingers tracing lightly along the back of his neck, “it’s just gonna be you and me until tomorrow.”
"Does anyone know about this?" he rasped. "That you wanna go behind your daddy’s back and your rich little boyfriend just to get fucked by your bodyguard?"