Lover boy... PART TWO.⋆♱
ℌ𝔲𝔰𝔟𝔞𝔫𝔡! 𝔍𝔬𝔢𝔩 𝔐𝔦𝔩𝔩𝔢𝔯 𝔛 𝔚𝔦𝔣𝔢! ℜ𝔢𝔞𝔡𝔢𝔯
PART ONE .⋆♱
.⋆♱ summary: It is no secret that many men don’t particularly enjoy their wives having a group of friends to go out with, unwind with, laugh with, and come home late from. Joel Miller has never understood that. He likes watching you get ready. Likes the music drifting from the bathroom, the dresses laid across the bed, the way you turn in front of the mirror and ask him what he thinks as if he is not already half in love with every version of you. He likes knowing you have a night that belongs to you. Because when it is over, when you are warm with cocktails and laughter and ready to come home, you always call him. And Joel always answers. He shows up with your playlist already playing, cold juice waiting in the cupholder, and enough snacks to prove he knows you better than anyone. He thinks he has planned for everything. But he has not prepared for what you decide to do with the peach rings. .⋆♱ a/n: Since I can’t get husband!Joel out of my head, I had no choice but to write a second part to Mirror, mirror on the wall... Hope you enjoy it!!!🦋 .⋆♱ warnings: Smut at the end, Domestic Fluff, Tipsy Reader, Drunk Flirting, Light Dom/sub Elements, Switch Dynamics, Sub Joel Miller, Use of “Good Boy”, Praise Kink, Dirty Talk, Teasing, Edging, Orgasm Denial, Oral Sex, Cunnilingus, Blow Jobs, Hand Jobs, Food Play, Candy, Light Cum Play, Aftercare, Gas Station Snacks As Foreplay. .⋆♱ wc: 8.962 k .⋆♱ Request for Joel and Tommy Miller are always open <3
Joel managed to get the front door open without dropping you or the snack bag, which he considered a decent accomplishment, given that you had apparently decided the safest way to be carried was to make yourself as distracting as possible.
You had one arm looped around his neck, your cheek tucked warm against the side of his throat, the other hand half heartedly trying to reach the juice bottle he had trapped against his ribs. Your shoes dangled from your feet, the little heels knocking softly together every time he took a step, and every few seconds your mouth brushed his skin in a way you were absolutely going to pretend was accidental if he called you on it.
Joel kicked the door shut behind him. “You gonna let me get you upstairs in one piece?”
“I’m helping.”
“You are actively not.”
You lifted your head, eyes bright in the dim entryway. “I’m just appreciating you—again.”
“That what we’re callin’ it?”
“Mhm.” Your fingers pressed into his shoulder with drunken solemnity. “Veeery strong. Veeery handsome. Excellent husband carrying service.”
Despite himself, Joel huffed a laugh. “Glad to know I’m meetin’ standards.”
“You exceed them.”
“That so?”
“You picked me up, bought me snacks, played my songs, let me sing, and didn’t complain once.”
“I complained internally.”
“You don’t get points for that.”
“I should. Took discipline.”
You gasped softly, scandalized. “Were you judging my singing?”
Joel started toward the stairs. “I was admirin’ your confidence.”
“That means bad.”
“That means loud.”
“I gave you a private concert.”
“Baby, half the street got that concert.”
Your laughter broke open against him, and Joel felt it through his chest, through the arm he had wrapped beneath your thighs, through the hand steadying your back. He loved you like this in a way that still caught him off guard sometimes: bright from a good night, loose with affection, made softer by laughter and alcohol and the certainty that he would always show up when you called. There was something almost dangerous about how happy you were in his arms, not because he feared it, but because happiness had a way of making him careless. Making him forget that he had spent most of his life bracing against things disappearing.
Halfway up the stairs, your lips pressed to the side of his neck.
Joel stopped on one step.
You went very still against him.
“Darlin’.”
“What?”
His eyes narrowed slightly. “That your mouth teasin’ again?”
You smiled into his skin. “Maybe.”
He closed his eyes for one long second and kept climbing. The house was dark except for the stair light and the warm glow spilling out from the bedroom at the end of the hall. Everything smelled faintly of your perfume from earlier, softer now, clinging to the rooms the way it clung to his shirt, mixed with cold night air, salt from the chips, and the sweetness of juice from the bottle in the bag. Joel adjusted his grip and told himself that stopping on the stairs with you whispering nonsense against his throat was a bad idea.
A spectacularly bad idea.
“You’re awful pleased with yourself tonight,” he muttered.
“You like me this way.”
“Unfortunately.”
“You love me.”
“Also unfortunately.”
You lifted your head, offended but smiling. “That was mean.”
“That was honest.”
“No.” You tapped his chest with one finger. “You love loving me.”
Joel reached the landing and looked down at you.
The teasing eased between one breath and the next. The hallway light caught the side of your face, the faint smudge beneath one eye, the last worn trace of gloss at the corner of your mouth. You looked tired and bright at the same time, held together by the afterglow of the night and by a trust so complete it made his ribs feel too tight.
His voice changed before he could stop it. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “I do.”
Your smile softened.
Then, because neither of you knew how to let tenderness stand unprotected for too long, you kissed his cheek and murmured, “Good answer.”
Joel shook his head and carried you into the bedroom.
The room still held the remains of the version of you that had left earlier. One dress lay folded badly over the chair. Another had slipped halfway from its hanger. A makeup brush waited near the vanity beside the gloss you had reapplied before leaving, and the perfume bottle stood uncapped as if you had abandoned it mid thought. It was messy in the way only a loved room could be messy, full of choices and softness and evidence that you had been there becoming yourself.
Joel set the snack bag on the bed first, then lowered you carefully to your feet.
The second your toes touched the floor, your fingers caught the front of his shirt.
“No,” he said.
You froze, eyes wide. “I didn’t do anything.”
“You were fixin’ to.”
“Maybe I just missed my husband.”
“You had me in the truck.”
“That was supervised.”
“By what?”
“Traffic laws.”
Joel laughed despite himself and let you tug him down just enough for one kiss. It was warm, sweet, almost innocent at first, until you tried to follow when he pulled back and your hand tightened in his shirt.
He caught your wrist gently. “Bathroom first.”
Your face fell like he had ruined Christmas. “Joel.”
“Makeup off.”
“But I’m home now.”
“I noticed.”
“And you’re here.”
“Also noticed.”
“So why are we discussing skincare when all I need is you?”
“Because you’ll wake up mad at yourself if I let you fall asleep like this.”
“I’m not going to fall asleep.”
Joel gave you a look.
You considered. “Not on purpose.”
“Bathroom.”
You sighed with your whole body. “You’re being extra bossy.”
“Somebody’s gotta keep you alive after midnight.”
“I am thriving.”
He crouched before you before you could build a stronger defense, one hand circling your ankle as he lifted your foot. Your laughter faded while he worked at the tiny strap of your heel, his fingers careful despite their size, brows drawn in concentration. Joel could handle lumber, wire, concrete, stubborn doors, stripped screws, and men twice as loud as they were useful. But with anything delicate that belonged to you, he slowed down like patience itself was part of the touch.
For all the heat that had been simmering since the truck, this was what made you quiet.
He noticed.
Joel slipped the first shoe off and set it by the dresser. “What?”
You shook your head. “Nothing.”
He glanced up from where he was kneeling at your feet. “Baby.”
Your mouth softened. “I just like when you do that.”
“Take your shoes off?”
“Take care of me like it’s normal.”
His expression shifted. Something gentled around his eyes.
“It is normal.”
“For you.”
“For us,” he corrected.
The words landed softly enough to make your eyes shine, and Joel felt the answering ache of it somewhere under his breastbone. He didn’t know if it was the alcohol making you tender, or the night settling in, or the fact that being cared for without having to earn it could still surprise you sometimes. Whatever it was, he leaned forward and pressed a kiss to the inside of your knee before undoing the second strap.
“Don’t start cryin’ over footwear,” he murmured.
You laughed immediately, swiping carefully beneath one eye. “Shut up.”
“Makeup.”
“Oh my God.” You snatched your hand away from your face. “See? Supervision.”
“Been sayin’ that.”
He stood, gathered your heels, and took them to the closet while you wandered toward the bathroom with less wobble now, though enough that he stayed close without making a point of it. On the way, you found the juice and took another long drink, eyes half closing with satisfaction.
Joel leaned against the bathroom doorframe, arms folded. “Water after that.”
“This is technically fruit.”
“Water.”
“Fruit has water.”
“Not enough.”
You lowered the bottle and gave him a look through the mirror. “You know you get very bossy after midnight?”
“Yes.”
“Hot.”
His jaw shifted. “Wash your face.”
You grinned because you knew exactly where the word had landed, but you turned to the sink anyway.
Watching you get ready had felt intimate. Watching you undo it was something else entirely. Earlier, there had been music, choices, performance, anticipation. Now there was the quieter version: you tying your hair back badly, missing a few strands by your cheek; Joel stepping in without a word to smooth them behind your ear; your eyes finding his in the mirror and staying there a beat too long while water ran in the sink.
“You know,” you said, reaching for cleanser, “I could have done this alone.”
“Never said you couldn’t.”
“You followed me.”
“You asked me to.”
“Did I?.” You rubbed the cleanser between your palms, then paused, looking at him through the mirror with a little smile. “I guess that I like that you come when I ask.”
Joel’s eyes lifted to yours.
The sentence could have been innocent but with you, specially tonight, it absolutely was not.
“What?” Your smile hid behind your hands as you started washing your face. “I’m cleaning.”
“You’re startin’ somethin’.”
“I can multitask.”
He exhaled through his nose, half laugh, half warning, and reached into the cabinet for a clean towel. By the time you rinsed, the night had started coming off in soft streaks: mascara, blush, the last traces of gloss. The water carried it down the sink in faint colors, leaving your face bare and flushed, your eyes still bright but softer now, no longer dressed for the room outside but for him.
Joel handed you the towel.
You patted your face dry and lowered it.
He looked at you for a second too long.
“What?” you asked.
His voice went quiet. “Just like seein’ you.”
Your expression softened, and he reached past you for the moisturizer because he knew the small jar now, knew you would forget it if he let you rush. You watched him unscrew the lid and hold it out without comment.
Your eyes widened. “You remembered.”
“Course I did.”
“That’s cute.”
“It’s just moisturizer, baby.”
“You are cute.”
“I am not.”
“You are when you’re pretending you aren’t.”
Joel gave you a look in the mirror. “Put it on.”
You did, still smiling.
Once your face was clean and your skin taken care of to his satisfaction, he handed you the bottle of water from the nightstand. You drank under protest, then drank more when he kept staring, and finally handed it back with a muttered, “Tyrant.”
“Livin’ with me is hard.”
“Sooo hard,” you agreed, leaning up to kiss the corner of his mouth.
He let you have that one.
Back in the bedroom, Joel sat you on the edge of the bed and brought the snack bag into your lap as if presenting tribute to some small, demanding queen. Your whole face lit up again.
“My chips.”
“Your chips.”
“My juice.”
“Also yours.”
“My water, apparently.”
“Definitely yours.”
You opened the barbecue chips first and offered him one. Joel shook his head.
“You bought them,” you frowned.
“For you.”
“Take one.”
“Darlin’.”
“Take. One.”
He took the chip because marriage was mostly knowing which battles weren’t worth the energy, and you looked deeply satisfied when he ate it.
“Good boy.”
Joel’s eyes flicked to yours. “Watch that mouth.”
You smiled like that was exactly the reaction you had hoped for.
He sat beside you and started taking the rest of the night off you piece by piece. First the bracelet, his thumb steadying your wrist while he worked the clasp. Then the necklace, your hair lifting as he moved behind you, the chain slipping cool into his palm. Then the earrings, which required more patience because you kept turning your head to talk just as he was trying not to stab you.
“Hold still.”
“I’m trying.”
“You’re talkin’.”
“I can talk still.”
“No, you can’t.”
You put another chip in your mouth and tried not to laugh while he removed the second earring.
“There,” he said, setting both carefully on the vanity tray. “Still got both ears.”
“You’re very skilled.”
“I know.”
“That was arrogant.”
“That was earned.”
You leaned back on your hands, bare feet swinging slightly above the floor, face clean, jewelry gone, dress still on, chips in your lap. The contrast of you almost made him smile: all that beauty softened into comfort, all that heat folded beneath domestic ridiculousness. Joel had always liked thresholds. Doorways. Porches. The last hour before sleep. Moments where one thing became another. Here you were, halfway between the woman who had walked into a bar glowing and the woman who would crawl into bed beside him later, steal his warmth, and deny it in the morning.
He liked every version.
You reached into the snack bag again. “What else did you get?”
Joel glanced back. “Vinegar chips.”
“I saw those.”
“Well, you like options, don't you?.”
“And surprises.”
His mouth twitched. “That too.”
The your hand found the gummies.
You pulled out the bag of peach rings and went completely still.
For one second, there was only silence.
Then your face changed with such delighted disbelief that Joel felt both proud of himself and immediately concerned.
“You bought me peach rings.”
“You said chocolate made you sick last time. So I got somethin’ else.”
You looked down at the bag again, and this time your smile turned smaller, sweeter, as if the ridiculous bag of gummies had become something weightier in your hands. Maybe it had. Maybe marriage was not always in the grand declarations, but in remembering what hurt someone’s stomach last time and choosing differently under fluorescent gas station lights.
You opened the bag and took one out, holding it between two fingers. “They’re cute.”
Joel sat back beside you. “Gummies are cute now?”
“This one is.”
“It’s shaped like a tire.”
“It is not shaped like a tire.”
“Tiny sugar tire.”
“It’s a peach ring.”
“That’s what they’re callin’ it.”
You laughed, then slipped the soft gummy onto the tip of your finger like jewelry and held your hand out with great ceremony. “Look. You brought me another ring.”
Joel looked at your hand.
Then at your face.
The joke was obvious. Silly. Even sweet.
And then he saw your eyes.
There it was.
The shift.
A brightening at the edge of your smile, a pause that lasted half a second too long, an idea arriving and making itself comfortable before he had a chance to object. Joel knew that look. He had seen it in the truck when your hand moved on his thigh. He saw it now, with a peach ring balanced on your finger and the snack bag rustling in your lap.
“Wathever you're going to ask, the answer is no.”
Your smile widened.
Joel pointed one finger at the gummy. “That is a snack.”
“But it can be two things.”
“It is not gonna be two things.”
“You don’t know what I was thinking.”
“I know exactly what you were thinkin’.”
“Oh,” You tilted your head, all innocence and danger. “Do you?”
He stared at you for a second, then looked away toward the ceiling like a man asking for strength from a God who had clearly abandoned him hours ago. “Jesus.”
You laughed softly and crawled closer on the bed, the snack bag sliding to the side. Joel stayed where he was, but every line of him sharpened with attention.
“You bought me juice,” you said.
“I did.”
“And chips.”
“Mmm-hmm.”
“And gummies.”
“Regrettin’ that part.”
“You took my shoes off.”
“Somebody had to.”
“You helped me wash my face.”
“You were gonna skip moisturizer.”
“You took off my jewelry.”
Joel’s eyes came back to yours. “Where you goin’ with this?”
You lifted your peach ringed finger between you both, studying it with exaggerated thoughtfulness. “I’m just saying you’ve been very good to me tonight.”
His jaw tightened faintly.
There it was again. That little thread pulled taut.
“Baby,” he said, warning wrapped around the word, though not nearly enough of it.
“What?” you asked softly.
“You ate two chips and half a bottle of juice. Don’t start makin’ plans on an empty stomach.”
Your expression warmed at the care in that, even as the mischief stayed. “Then feed me with something else.”
Joel went still.
You seemed to realize what you had said at the same moment he did.
The room quieted.
And the air between you grew thick enough to feel.
Joel’s eyes dropped to the peach ring on your finger.
Then lifted back to your face.
You smiled slowly.
“Sweetheart,” he murmured.
“You keep saying that like it’s going to help.”
“It usually does.”
“Maybe.” You shifted closer, your knees brushing his thigh. “Or maybe you like the part where I don’t listen.”
Joel let out a quiet breath through his nose. “You are pushin’ your luck.”
“Am I?”
“Yes.”
You held the peach ring near his mouth, not touching him with it, not yet. Just letting the offer hover there, soft, sweet, absurd, and suddenly far less innocent than anything bought under fluorescent lights had a right to be.
Joel looked at it.
Then at you.
“You think this is funny.”
“I think you’re handsome.”
“That is not an answer.”
“I think you’re very handsome when you’re trying to decide whether to be responsible or let me have my way.”
His mouth curved despite himself, but his eyes had darkened. “You always think you’re gettin’ your way.”
“I usually do.”
“Because I let you.”
You leaned closer, voice dropping. “Then let me.”
Joel held your gaze, and for a moment he did not look like the man who had carried you upstairs and made you wash your face and drink water. He looked like that man’s restraint pulled thin, like every careful thing in him had heard your tone and gone quiet to listen.
Then his hand came up, wrapping gently around your wrist.
Your breath caught.
He did not pull the gummy closer. Did not push it away either. He only held you there, your hand suspended between his mouth and yours, the peach ring bright and ridiculous around your finger.
“You sure?” he asked softly.
Your smile steadied into something clearer. Less tipsy now. More deliberate. “Yes, Joel.”
He studied you for a long second, looking for anything he would not like. Uncertainty. Fogginess. The kind of looseness that meant you were playing because the night had made decisions easier than they should be. But what he found was familiar. Your mischief, yes. Your warmth. Your want. But also your trust. Your awareness. Your eyes fixed on his because you knew exactly what it did to him when you asked sweetly and meant trouble.
Joel swallowed once.
Your thumb moved against his fingers. “You took such good care of me tonight.”
His grip tightened slightly.
You lifted your other hand and set it on his chest, over the steady beat of his heart. “Let me be sweet to you now.”
Joel’s eyes closed for half a second.
When he opened them, the decision was already there.
He released your wrist, leaned back against the headboard, and looked at you with a kind of quiet danger that made your whole body go still.
“Alright,” he said.
Your pulse jumped.
Joel’s voice dropped lower.
“Show me.”
You smiled like you had been waiting for exactly that.
Not permission, not that. Joel knew better than to think you needed permission to be trouble in your own bedroom. It was something else; an opening, a door left unlocked, a shift in him so subtle anyone else might have missed it and so obvious to you that your whole face changed around it.
The bedside lamp softened the lines of him: broad shoulders, tired eyes, mouth threatening a smile even as his gaze darkened with every inch you crawled closer. The bag of peach rings sat open beside your thigh, bright and ridiculous against the sheets, and Joel kept glancing at it like it had personally betrayed him.
You slipped another soft gummy over your index finger and held it up.
“With the peach ring?” you asked, before he could say anything.
“With whatever thought just went through your head.”
The humor sharpened, warmed, slid into something heavier. You could feel it in the way his grip settled more firmly at your side, in the way his breathing slowed like he was trying to control it, in the way his gaze kept returning to the peach ring on your finger as if the idea had already occurred to him and he hated that you’d been the one to put it there first.
You lifted your hand between you both, studying the gummy with exaggerated innocence. “You know…”
Joel exhaled once. “I ain’t gonna like this.”
“You might.”
“I know that tone.”
“This is a perfectly reasonable observation.”
“Baby, nothin’ about you has been reasonable since you got in my truck.”
“That’s not true.”
“You tried to seduce me while I was drivin’.”
You laughed softly and inched closer. “And you liked it.”
His jaw shifted.
You saw it.
Joel saw you see it.
His voice dropped. “That ain’t the point.”
“It feels like the point.”
You held up the peach ring again, letting it rest at the tip of your finger. “I was only going to say that something bigger than a finger could fit through this.”
Joel stared at you.
For one long second, he didn’t even blink.
Then his gaze moved very slowly from your face to the gummy, then back again, his expression flattening into such deep, exhausted skepticism that you had to bite your lip to keep from laughing.
“Baby.”
“What?”
“That is a damn gummy.”
“Yes.”
“A very soft little gummy.”
“Exactly.”
“That I bought for you to eat.”
“And I’m very grateful.”
“You are not actin’ grateful. You are actin’ like a menace.”
You leaned in, lowering your voice. “I’m just saying. It’s soft. If you squeeze it a little…”
Joel’s eyebrows rose.
You smiled sweetly.
“…it might work.”
Something passed across his face then; amusement first, sharp and disbelieving, then heat so sudden it made your stomach dip.
He sat up a fraction. “My cock is not gonna fit through a peach ring.”
You blinked at him with perfect innocence. “That remains to be seen.”
Joel dragged a hand down his face. “Christ almighty.”
“What?”
“You hear yourself?”
“Yes.”
“And?”
“And I sound creative.”
“You sound dangerous.”
“You like me dangerous.”
His eyes lifted to yours. “I like you.”
“That’s basically the same thing.”
“No,” he said, voice rougher now, “it ain’t.”
The answer landed with more weight than you expected. For a second, the teasing softened around the edges, not disappearing, only making room for the thing beneath it; the trust, the fact that Joel could look at you sitting there with a gummy on your finger and heat in your eyes and still be measuring you with care. How much you’d had to drink. Whether you were sure. Whether the game was still a game because you wanted it, not because the night had carried you farther than you meant to go.
You knew him well enough to know exactly what he was doing.
So you took his hand from your waist, guided it up, and placed his palm over the center of your chest, where your heart was beating fast beneath the denim fabric of your dress.
“I know what I’m asking for, Joel” you said.
Joel’s face changed.
His fingers spread slightly, not possessive, not yet, but heavy enough that your breath caught under them.
“You’re not just feelin’ bold because of the cocktails?”
You smiled, softer now. “I’m feeling bold because you brought me home, took care of me, and now you’re looking at me like you want me to ruin your life.”
Joel went very still.
Then he laughed once, low and almost breathless. “That what I look like?”
You nodded. “A little.”
His thumb brushed once, barely there, near your collarbone. “And what do you look like?”
You leaned closer, your mouth hovering near his. “Like I’m about to.”
That did it.
Something in his expression gave, something patient and controlled slipping into something darker, hungrier, more willing to be led if only because he knew he could still end the game whenever he needed to.
You brought the peach ring to his mouth.
He caught your wrist before it touched him.
The motion was quick enough to make your breath catch, but his grip was gentle, thumb resting over your pulse.
“You think you’re runnin’ this?” he murmured.
You held his gaze. “I know I am.”
“Do you?”
“Yes.”
His mouth curved, slow and dangerous. “Then why’re you shakin’?”
Your pulse jumped beneath his fingers.
“I’m not shaking.”
Joel’s thumb moved over your wrist. “Liar.”
You swallowed.
He looked down at the gummy again, and his voice went lower. “You got a filthy mouth tonight for somebody who needed help gettin’ her shoes off.”
Heat rushed to your face.
You narrowed your eyes. “Don’t be smug.”
“I ain’t smug.”
“You are.”
“I’m observant.”
“You’re avoiding the point.”
“The point bein’ you think you can get that around me?”
You smiled slowly. “I think you want to find out.”
Joel’s jaw tightened.
His silence was answer enough.
You slipped your wrist from his hold this time, not because he couldn’t have stopped you, but because he let you. That was the dangerous part. The part that made your stomach twist. Joel Miller, broad and and stubborn as stone, sitting back against the headboard with his hands slowly lowering to the sheets, letting you take the space between you like he trusted you with every inch of it.
You touched the peach ring to his lower lip.
“Open.”
His stare held yours.
For one breath, two, he did nothing.
Then his lips parted.
The obedience of it hit you harder than you expected.
Joel took the gummy from your fingers without looking away, his mouth closing around it slowly, deliberately, like he knew exactly what the sight would do to you and had decided to punish you with your own idea. His teeth caught against the sugar. His tongue swept briefly over his lower lip afterward.
Your smile faltered but his came back.
“Problem?”
You hated how steady he sounded.
“No.”
“Looked like one.”
“You’re being difficult.”
“I’m sittin’ here doin’ what I’m told.”
“Barely.”
His eyes moved over you, from your bare face to your mouth to the neckline of your dress and back up again. “Then tell me better.”
The words settled low in the room.
You went still.
Joel saw the reaction and softened his voice by half an inch, not enough to lessen the heat, only enough to remind you he was still there underneath it. “C’mon, baby. You said you were in charge.”
You lifted your chin, refusing to let him take the ground back that easily. “I am.”
“Then act like it.”
Your breath caught.
He smiled faintly, but his hands stayed on the sheets, open and waiting.
You reached for another peach ring from the bag, slower this time, and Joel watched every movement with an attention so absolute it felt like touch. You held it up between you both, then lowered it just enough for his eyes to follow.
“You’re going to sit there,” you said softly.
Joel’s gaze returned to your face.
“And you’re going to be good.”
His expression sharpened.
“Good,” he repeated.
You nodded. “For me.”
The room went silent.
There were certain words that did things to Joel. Not because he lacked control, but because he had too much of it, always had. Because surrender, even playful surrender, was something he only gave where he felt safe enough to set it down. And there you were, warm from your night out, bare faced because he had washed the evening off you, fed and watered because he had made sure of it, looking at him like you knew exactly what he was and loved him enough to ask for something ridiculous anyway.
“Bossy little thing,” he murmured.
“You married me.”
“Startin’ to remember that.”
You moved closer until your knees settled on either side of his thigh, not sitting on him, not yet, just close enough for the pressure of him to become impossible to ignore. Joel’s breath changed again, and this time he did not hide it quickly enough.
You smiled.
“You brought me gummies,” you whispered. “So you don’t get to complain when I play with them.”
Joel’s hands flexed against the sheets.
“I can complain all I want.”
“Not tonight.”
“No?”
You shook your head. “Tonight, I say what happens.”
His eyes held yours for one long, heated second.
Then he leaned back a little farther, deliberately giving you room, his mouth curving like he was already thinking of all the ways this could go wrong and all the reasons he wanted to let it.
“Alright,” he said, voice rough. “You wanna play?”
You swallowed, excitement slipping through your confidence for just a second.
Joel saw it.
His smile deepened.
“Then play,” he murmured. “But don’t start somethin’ you ain’t ready to finish.”
You leaned in until your mouth brushed his ear.
“Oh, Miller,” you whispered. “I’m not the one who should be worried about finishing.”
Joel went completely still.
And that was the moment his restraint finally started to look like surrender.
You smiled like you had been waiting for exactly that.
Then you leaned in and kissed him.
It started soft, almost sweet, your lips brushing his like you were still thanking him for the peach rings and the ride home. But the second Joel’s mouth opened under yours you deepened it, tasting the faint sugar still clinging to his tongue from the gummy he’d taken earlier. Your hands slid up his chest, over the fabric of his shirt, until your fingers closed gently around his wrists.
You guided them upward.
Joel let you.
You pressed his palms flat against the top edge of the headboard, right where the wood curved. His long fingers curled over it instinctively.
“Keep them there,” you whispered against his mouth.
Joel’s brow lifted, but his voice came out low and already a little rough. “That an order?”
“Mhm.” You kissed the corner of his mouth, then his bottom lip, teasing. “Hands stay right there until I say otherwise.”
He huffed a quiet laugh that you felt more than heard. “Trouble and bossy.”
“You like it.”
“I like all of you,” he corrected, but he didn’t move his hands. His knuckles stayed white against the dark wood, arms stretched just enough to make the muscles in his shoulders shift under his shirt.
You reached into the open bag of peach rings, pulled out a fresh one, and held it up between you two like a prize.
“I want you to suck on this,” you said softly, voice sweet as the sugar itself, “until there’s not a single grain of sugar left on it.”
Joel looked at the bright orange ring, then at you. One eyebrow rose slow and skeptical.
“What the hell’s wrong with a little sugar, darlin’?”
You smiled at that.
“Because I don’t want it scratching that pretty cock of yours when I slide it down every inch.”
The words landed heavy between you.
Joel’s jaw flexed. His eyes darkened instantly, pupils blowing wide. For a second he just stared at you, like he was trying to decide whether to laugh, curse, or drag you into his lap and end this game right now.
Instead he let out a low, rough breath.
“Jesus Christ, darlin’…”
You brought the peach ring closer to his mouth, brushing the soft sugar against his lower lip.
“Open up your mouth for me, baby.”
Joel held your gaze the entire time he parted his lips. The second the gummy touched his tongue he closed his mouth around it and your finger, sucking slowly. His tongue moved over the soft ring, licking every bit of sugar, warm and wet against your skin. He didn’t look away from you once.
You let out a shaky little breath.
“That’s it… just like that,” you murmured, voice dropping. “Get it nice and clean for me, Joel.”
He hummed around your finger, the vibration going straight between your legs. His tongue curled, licked between your fingers, sucked the gummy until it started to lose its sharp sugar edge and turn glossy with his spit. The wet sounds filled the quiet bedroom.
When the peach ring was slick and mostly sugar free, you finally pulled it from his mouth with a soft pop. A thin string of saliva connected his lip to your finger for a second before it broke.
You looked at the gummy, then at him, and smiled.
“Very good,” you praised, voice warm and a little breathless.
Joel let out a short, surprised laugh, the sound rough and genuine. His eyes were dark but sparkling with that mix of amusement and pure want that always made your stomach flip.
“Yeah? That earn me a gold star?”
You leaned in and kissed him again, deep and filthy, tasting the peach on his tongue. While you kissed him your free hand moved to the buttons of his shirt, slowly working them open one by one.
“You earned a lot more than that,” you whispered against his mouth.
You kissed along his jaw, slow open mouthed kisses that made his head tilt back against the headboard. Your lips moved down to his neck, tongue tracing the tendon there, sucking lightly just below his ear until he let out a low growl.
“Baby…”
You smiled against his skin. “Shh. Hands stay up there.”
You kept unbuttoning his shirt until it fell open completely, revealing the broad, solid plane of his chest and the soft dark hair scattered across it. You dragged your tongue down the center of his sternum, tasting salt and skin and the faint trace of soap from his shower earlier. Lower, following the trail of hair that disappeared beneath his belt; his happy trail.
You pressed a wet kiss right below his belly button and looked up at him through your lashes.
“Love this,” you murmured, dragging your tongue along the line of hair. “Love how it leads exactly where I want to go.”
Joel’s breath hitched. His arms flexed against the headboard but he kept them exactly where you’d put them.
“Fuckin’ menace,” he muttered, voice gravel rough.
You grinned and nipped lightly at his lower stomach before your hands moved to his belt. You undid the buckle with practiced ease, popped the button of his jeans, and dragged the zipper down slow enough to make him feel every tooth.
When you freed his cock it was already hard and heavy, flushed dark at the tip and curving up toward his stomach. You wrapped your hand around the base and gave one slow, firm stroke.
Joel groaned low in his throat.
You leaned down and pressed a soft, almost reverent kiss to the head, then dragged your tongue over the slit, tasting the bead of precum already there. You coated him thoroughly, licking long, wet stripes up and down his length until he glistened with your saliva.
Then you picked up the slick peach ring.
You looked up at him again, eyes shining with mischief and heat.
“Ready?”
Joel’s voice was wrecked. “You’re really gonna do this.”
“Mmm-hmm.” You slid the soft, warm gummy slowly down over the head of his cock, careful, watching his face the entire time. It stretched a little, snug but smooth now that the sugar was mostly gone. You eased it down a couple of inches, then back up, letting the soft ring drag along his sensitive skin.
Joel’s hips twitched. A deep, guttural sound left his chest.
“Jesus… fuck, baby.”
“Feel good?” you asked sweetly, still sliding the gummy up and down his shaft in slow, torturous strokes.
“Too damn good,” he rasped. “You’re gonna kill me.”
You laughed softly and finally set the gummy aside. Then you lowered your mouth over him.
You took him deep in one smooth glide, lips stretching around his thickness, tongue pressed flat against the underside. Joel’s head fell back against the headboard with a thud, a broken groan tearing out of him.
You worked him slowly at first with long, wet pulls, hollowing your cheeks, taking him as far as you could until your nose brushed the dark hair at his base. Then you pulled back up, swirling your tongue around the head, sucking lightly on the sensitive spot just beneath it before sliding down again.
“Goddamn, sweetheart… that mouth,” Joel panted. His hands were still gripping the headboard so hard the wood creaked. “You’re takin’ me so fuckin’ well.”
You hummed around him, the vibration making his cock twitch hard against your tongue. You picked up the pace gradually, bobbing your head faster, one hand stroking what your mouth couldn’t reach, the other gently cupping his balls, rolling them softly.
The wet, filthy sounds of your mouth working him filled the room. Every time you took him especially deep you let out a little moan that made Joel curse under his breath.
You felt him start to tense, his thighs going tight, his cock swelling even harder against your tongue.
You pulled off with a wet pop and looked up at him, lips shiny and swollen.
“You close, handsome?”
Joel’s chest was heaving. His voice was raw. “Yeah… fuck, yes, I’m right there—”
You sat up abruptly, wiped the corner of your mouth with the back of your hand like it was nothing, and scooted up the bed to sit beside him. You leaned back against the headboard with a satisfied little sigh, legs stretched out, looking perfectly casual.
Joel’s head snapped toward you, eyes wide with disbelief and pure frustration.
You smiled sweetly at him.
“Well?” you said, voice light and innocent. “If you want to come, you’re already late eating my pussy, baby.”
Joel stared at you for a long second, chest still rising and falling hard, cock glistening and throbbing against his stomach, hands still obediently on the headboard.
Then he let out a low, dangerous laugh that sent heat rushing straight between your legs.
Joel’s gaze dragged down your body like he was already planning exactly how he was going to ruin you.
“Look at you… sittin’ there all sweet and wicked after what you just did to me. You got me achin’ so bad I can barely think straight.” he said, voice rough and thick with hunger.
You bit your lip, heat flooding your cheeks, but you didn’t close your legs. Instead you held his stare and slowly dragged the hem of your denim dress higher up your thighs, bunching the fabric at your hips until you were fully exposed to him. Then you spread your legs wider, showing him exactly what he did to you.
The cool air hit the soaked lace of your panties and you shivered. The dark wet spot was obvious. Embarrassingly, but beautifully obvious.
Joel’s breath caught hard in his chest. His eyes locked between your thighs like he couldn’t look away even if the world was ending.
“Jesus Christ, baby…” he breathed, almost reverent. “That all for me? You’re fuckin’ drippin’.”
You nodded, voice soft and a little shy but full of honest want.
“All for you, Joel. I’ve been like this since the truck. You were so good to me tonight… carrying me, buying me snacks, letting me tease you, keeping your hands right where I told you… You make me this wet just by being you. Just by loving me the way you do.”
He made a low, broken sound deep in his throat, almost pained. His cock gave a heavy twitch, the stretched peach ring around the base making the ache sharper and tighter. For a long second his hands flexed like he wanted to reach for you, but he kept them exactly where you’d placed them earlier; gripping the top of the headboard.
“My sweet, filthy little wife…” he muttered, but his eyes were soft and dark and so full of love it made your chest feel tight.
He finally moved, crawling between your spread thighs with deliberate slowness. His big hands wrapped gently around your ankles first, thumbs stroking the delicate bone there. He lifted one foot and pressed a slow, open-mouthed kiss to the inside of your ankle, then another higher up your calf. Every kiss was warm and wet, lingering, like he had all the time in the world and planned to use every second of it.
He took his time.
Kissing. Sucking. Nipping lightly at the soft skin of your inner thighs until faint pink marks bloomed under his mouth. You felt each one like a brand.
“Joel…” you whispered, already breathless.
He hummed against your thigh, the vibration traveling straight to your core. When he reached the edge of your soaked panties he didn’t pull them aside. He simply leaned in and dragged the flat of his tongue in one long, slow stripe right up the center of your pussy through the lace.
Your hips jerked.
He did it again, slower, pressing harder, letting the rough texture of the wet fabric drag over your swollen clit. The sensation was maddening.
“Fuck, Joel… please…”
He looked up at you from between your legs, beard already shiny with your arousal, eyes gleaming with wicked satisfaction.
“Please what, sweetheart?” he asked, voice low and rough. “Thought you were the one runnin’ the show tonight. Ain’t that what you told me?”
You let out a frustrated little whine, but you were smiling too, cheeks flushed.
He chuckled darkly and went back to torturing you, sucking gently on your clit through the lace, tongue flicking in tight little circles. Every slow, deliberate lick made the fabric cling even more obscenely to you. The wet sounds of his mouth against the soaked lace filled the bedroom.
You squirmed, fingers twisting in the sheets.
“Joel… baby, please take them off. I need your mouth on me properly… I can’t—”
He pulled back just enough to grin up at you, lips glistening.
“Well now… ain’t that interestin’. My bossy little wife is beggin’ already.”
You laughed breathlessly and reached down, threading your fingers into his thick hair. You gave it a gentle but firm tug.
“I’m the one still in charge,” you whispered sweetly, voice dripping with playful threat. “And you’re not coming until I say so. Don’t forget that, handsome.”
The reminder hit him hard. Joel’s cock throbbed painfully inside the gummy ring. He groaned low against your thigh, the sound raw.
“You’re trouble,” he muttered, but there was nothing but pure desperate affection in it. “Nothin’ but trouble.”
He hooked two thick fingers into the waistband of your panties and slowly dragged them down your legs, letting the soaked lace kiss every inch of skin on the way off. He tossed them aside and settled back between your thighs like a man coming home.
This time there was nothing between his mouth and you.
Joel licked a long, slow stripe up your bare pussy and groaned deep, like the taste of you was everything he’d ever wanted. Then the teasing stopped completely.
He devoured you.
His mouth was hot, hungry and relentless. He sucked your clit between his lips, tongue flicking fast and firm, then slowed down to lick broad and lazy, savoring every drop. Two thick fingers slid inside you without warning, curling perfectly against that spot that made stars burst behind your eyes.
“Fuck— Joel— yes, right there, baby…”
He moaned into your pussy, the vibration shooting through you. Every low, filthy grunt and wet sound he made told you exactly how much he loved eating you like this.
“You taste so fuckin’ good, darlin’,” he rasped against you, voice muffled and wrecked. “So sweet. So wet. Could stay right here between your legs all night.”
You kept praising him between broken moans, words spilling out of you like you couldn’t hold them back.
“You’re so good… God, your mouth— I love how you eat my pussy… No one has ever made me feel like this… Fuck, Joel, you’re perfect— so perfect for me…”
Every compliment made him groan louder, his hips unconsciously grinding against the mattress, chasing any kind of relief for his aching cock. The peach ring was still tight around him, making every throb feel sharper, more intense.
You threw one leg over his broad shoulder, then the other, heels digging into his back as you rocked against his face without any shame, riding his tongue.
“That’s it— right there— don’t stop, baby—”
Joel’s hips kept moving, desperate little thrusts against the bed. You noticed immediately.
“You’re cheating,” you panted, half-laughing, half-moaning. “Grinding on the bed like that…”
He pulled back just enough to look up at you, beard shiny and dripping with your slick, eyes glassy and dark.
“Cheating?” His voice was completely wrecked. “Darlin’, you got me drippin’ like a goddamn teenager. I’m doin’ everything I can to behave and you’re still sittin’ there lookin’ like that, tastin’ like that… You’re killin’ me here.”
The raw honesty in his voice made you melt.
You reached down and cupped his wet cheek tenderly, thumb brushing through his soaked beard. Then you brought those same slick fingers to his mouth. Joel opened without hesitation, sucking them clean with a deep, grateful groan.
“I know you’re being so good for me,” you whispered, voice soft and full of love. “But you know what would make me even wetter? Watching you eat my pussy while you stroke that pretty cock for me. I want to see you touch yourself while you make me come.”
Joel didn’t hesitate for even a second.
He rose up on his knees, helped you stand on shaky legs, and kissed you deep, letting you taste yourself on his tongue. While he kissed you he peeled the rest of your dress off, then your bra. You helped him shove his open shirt off his shoulders and pushed his jeans and boxers the rest of the way down until both of you were completely naked.
Then Joel dropped to his knees again; right there in front of you.
One big hand settled possessively on your lower back, holding you steady. The other wrapped around his aching cock, the peach ring still snug at the base, and he started stroking himself slow and tight, eyes never leaving yours.
He looked up at you the entire time as he leaned in and licked back into your pussy with pure devotion.
No more games. Just Joel on his knees, worshipping you with his mouth while he fucked his own fist for you. The eye contact was unbroken, intense. Every moan he let out vibrated against your clit. Every wet sound of his hand moving on his cock mixed with the obscene noises of him eating you like a starving man.
You looked down at him and let out a shaky, awed breath.
“Oh my God, Joel… look at you,” you whispered, voice full of wonder and heat. “On your knees for me… stroking that pretty cock while you eat my pussy. You’re so fucking beautiful like this.”
Joel groaned loudly against you, the sound vibrating straight into your core. His eyes fluttered but he kept them locked on yours, sucking harder on your clit like your words had lit a fire under him.
You threaded both hands into his hair, holding him right where you needed him.
“That’s it… good boy,” you murmured, voice sweet and filthy at the same time. “Good fucking boy, baby. You’re doing so good for me.”
His hips jerked forward into his own fist at the praise. A broken moan tore out of him, muffled against your soaked folds.
You smiled down at him, breathing hard.
“You like that, huh? You like being my good boy?” You stroked his hair gently, almost tenderly. “Look at you… so desperate, so hungry. I can feel how much you love this. You’re making such pretty sounds for me, Joel.”
He pulled back just enough to gasp against your thigh, voice wrecked and hoarse.
“Fuck, sweetheart… keep talkin’ like that and I ain’t gonna last…”
You tugged his hair lightly, guiding his mouth back to you.
“You still don’t get to come until I do. You hear me, baby? Be good for me a little longer.” you said softly.
Joel whimpered —actually whimpered— and dove back in, licking and sucking with renewed hunger. His hand moved faster on his cock, the wet sounds growing louder, more frantic.
You kept praising him, voice getting breathier as your own pleasure built higher.
“Yes… just like that. You’re so good with your tongue, Joel. So perfect. God, look at you on your knees… touching yourself for me while you make me feel this good. My handsome husband… my good, good boy…”
His shoulders trembled. His strokes became tighter, almost desperate, but he never looked away from your eyes. The eye contact was devastating.
Your thighs started to shake around his head.
It was too much.
You threaded both hands into his hair, holding him against you as your thighs started to tremble.
“Joel—baby— I’m so close…”
He pulled back just enough to murmur against your slick, puffy folds, voice hoarse and full of love.
“I got you, baby. You can let it go. Come for me. Let me feel you.”
The orgasm crashed into you hard. You cried out his name, hips jerking against his mouth as pleasure tore through you in long, overwhelming waves. Your walls clenched around his fingers, thighs shaking around his head.
Joel kept licking you through it, gentler now, soothing every aftershock… but his own hand never stopped moving on his cock. His strokes grew faster, tighter, more desperate as he felt you coming undone on his tongue.
The moment your orgasm started to crest and then slowly ebb, Joel groaned loudly against your pussy, the sound desperate and broken. His eyes locked on yours again, dark and glassy, almost pleading.
“Fuck—darlin’— I can’t hold it anymore…” His voice cracked. “Please… can I come? Let me come, baby… please—”
You kept your eyes fixed on him, watching every single detail: the way his hand flew over his cock, the way his hips stuttered, the way his chest heaved. You stroked his hair tenderly while you watched him fall apart.
“Yes, baby,” you panted, voice sweet. “You can come. Come for me, Joel. Let me see you.”
The permission hit him like a trigger.
Joel groaned loudly against your oversensitive clit, the sound vibrating through you as he finally let go. His hips jerked hard, his hand stroking himself through it, and he came with a deep, guttural moan. Thick ropes of cum spilled over his fist and onto the floor while he kept licking you softly, riding out the last waves of your pleasure as he emptied himself completely for you.
Only when you were both trembling and breathless did he finally slow down.
He stayed on his knees between your legs for a long moment, forehead resting against your thigh, chest heaving, trying to catch his breath. His hand was still loosely wrapped around his softening cock.
You looked down at him and let out a soft, breathless laugh, still coming down from your high.
“Baby… you still have the gummy on.”
“Fuckin’ thing.”
He reached down to slide it off carefully. The moment it came free he hissed through his teeth; oversensitive and aching.
You grabbed his arm quickly, still giggling softly.
“You’re not throwing it away, right?”
Joel looked up at you, one eyebrow raised, that crooked, fond smile on his shiny lips.
“You serious, darlin’?”
You opened your mouth and stuck your tongue out, eyes sparkling with playful challenge.
He stared at you for a second, then shook his head, laughing low and warm and so full of love it made your heart squeeze.
“You are actually insane,” he muttered, but he stood up, stepped close, and carefully placed the slick, cum covered peach ring onto your waiting tongue.
The second you closed your mouth around it, Joel leaned down and kissed you; deep, slow, and filthy. He tasted himself, the sweet artificial peach, and the lingering taste of you all at once.
In the middle of the kiss he laughed softly against your lips, the sound warm and full of love.
“I love you,” he whispered, forehead resting against yours, thumb brushing your cheek. “Goddamn, I love you so much.”
“I love you too.”
For a moment, Joel didn’t move. He only held you there, forehead pressed to yours, one hand cupping the side of your face while both of you tried to remember how to breathe like normal people again. The room was warm and wrecked around you, the sheets twisted, your dress on the floor, the open bag of peach rings sitting near the pillows like evidence of a crime neither of you regretted.
Then Joel let out a quiet, breathless laugh and kissed your cheek, softer now, careful in the way he always became after.
“Alright, trouble,” he murmured, voice rough but tender, already reaching for the water on the nightstand. “Before you get any more ideas, you’re drinkin’ this, and then I’m cleanin’ you up.”
You smiled against his shoulder, boneless and happy. “Still bossy.”
He pressed another kiss to your temple. “Still married to me.”
⋆♱ Beautiful dividers from @saradika-graphics and @thecutestgrotto
.⋆♱ Taglist: @mcthsman, @vanishintoyoubby, @pattwtf, @mrsnanamiller, @madisonauroraxx, @okiegal68
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