𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | 𝟏𝟖+ 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 | 𝐌𝐃𝐍𝐈| 𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐮𝐧𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐝, 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐟𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐲, 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐲 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬, 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭, 𝐭𝐨𝐱𝐢𝐜 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩, 𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐢'𝐦 𝐬𝐨 𝐟𝐫 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 𝟗.𝟒𝐤 𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | 𝐕𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬 𝐃𝐚𝐲 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒 𝐰𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐚 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬
It began the same way it always did. Two flush bodies strewn across a disheveled bed and wrapped in damp sheets of their own making. The room lit with the soft glow of a muted television. Though he’d promised to stay awake and engage with the film, the man behind her was watching nothing but the darkness behind his eyelids.
Soft snores gave him away. Though with any small movement they would reopen, and he would pretend to know what she was referencing whenever her soft voice filtered into his ears. He pretends not to hear her the first time, unwilling to engage in the same tired argument they’d had time and time again.
Eyes fully alert, he stares at the back of her head until the messy array of curls became the soft glisten of her previously perspiring forehead, and her hooded eyes fill his vision. The pacifying swipes of her fingers along the length of his nose lull him into a false sense of serenity — until she tries again.
“Did you hear me?” she utters, leaving closed mouth kisses along his cheeks.
“Hmm” is the only response he grants her, hoping she would accept his feigned exhaustion in exchange for avoiding this conversation—again.
“I’ll take that as a no then,” she mumbles, flopping onto her back on the other side of the bed, pulling the sheets high over her bare skin, concealing herself from him.
“Why do we have to do this every time?”
“Just drop it.” She deadpans.
Sucking his teeth, he rises from his reclined position. He throws his legs over the side of the bed and reaches for his forgotten undergarments. All the while, she keeps her eyes cemented on the tv not wanting to give him the satisfaction. The sound of the bathroom door clicking shut brings tears to her eyes, and she stares straight up at the ceiling to keep them from falling. She would never let him see her cry over something so trivial.
When he returns, he’s fully dressed, and she can smell the mint toothpaste lingering in the air from where he freshened up. The same toothpaste that sat next to his toothbrush that he’d begun leaving behind—along with a plethora of other hygiene products.
“I don’t want to fight with you every time, Jireh.”
“Nobody is fighting you.” Still refusing to look his way, she opts for scrolling through the channels, anything to keep her mind occupied just until he walks out that door.
“We’ve talked about this; I told you from the beginning—"
“That you would never stay, I got it.”
“You knew what this was when we first started—”
“Yeah, I got it—”
“I don’t do this shit, and you know that.” he gestures back and forth between them. The quick roll of her head feels predatory when she finally lifts her eyes to his.
“You’re dragging it. I said I got it…you wanna go so bad, then go….wasting time standing here.”
“Don’t act like I beg to be here, Jireh—Don’t act like you didn’t call me to come here today.”
“What are you even talking about?” She rolls her eyes. “You’re just saying anything—don’t act like you don’t show up here whenever you feel like it. I asked you one simple question—”
“That you know the answer to, you sitting over there with an attitude—”
“Nobody has a fucking attitude! You came out here talking to me!”
“Because you keep pushing!”
“Nobody is bothering you! I asked you a question—”
“And you already knew the answer, and still every time you ask anyway.”
“Alright, just go, I’m not doing this with you,” waving her hand in dismissal, raising his hackles even further.
“You want me to go?”
“Yes.”
“Bet…see if I come back.” Whipping the blankets from her body, she stands nude as the day she was born, stalking off toward the ensuite. Ripping her robe off the hook and hastily tying the knot a bit too snug around her waist.
“Oh fucking boy, here you go…you treat this like a fucking whore house coming and going as you please and I ask one question, and you’re bent outta shape,” he cocks his head back as if she’d slapped him. Insulted by her accusation—though he knew she wasn’t far from the truth.
“A whore house? Jireh, please,” grabbing for his items strewn across the bedside table, he can’t get out of her home quick enough.
“Just go, I’m literally not doing this with you today.”
“I’m gone then.”
Leaning against the door to the bedroom, she watches him pull the thick black hoodie he’d arrived in over his head and once again depart from her life. She’d lost track of how many times they’d had this same spat.
The moment the door slams closed, the tears run over. She knew she shouldn’t have asked, knew the result would be the same as every time prior. Whenever she hears those soft snores escaping his chest, she hopes that maybe this time would be different, maybe he’d finally accepted that she’d wanted him there. She slept better whenever he was around, even if it was just for the few hours he rested his head. He’d begun taking short naps in her home, before waking and leaving in the night, sometimes without even alerting her.
The embarrassment she’d felt finding him missing, after falling asleep curled next to him, was enough to leave her in tears time and time again.
꧁༺𝐅𝐞𝐛𝐫𝐮𝐚𝐫𝐲 𝟏𝟐༻꧂
Their usual tiffs often had a predetermined three day life cycle.
Day one is reserved for wallowing. Day two is when the messages and calls start rolling in. Him wanting to apologize. Her deeming their contention as frivolous and putting on her best sultry voice to entice him. Day three: he shows up at her door, apology gifts in tow, and they have sex to wash away any lingering tension.
Occasionally it strays to four days. Only once has it ever strayed to five… Seven whole days without communication is unheard of, and with each passing day the coil in her gut springs tighter.
Sitting at her kitchen island, the clang of her spoon in her steaming mug of tea accompanies the semi hypnotic state she’s found herself in. Staring into the vortex she’d created in her cup, her thoughts continue to spiral into oblivion.
Her plate of forgotten food sits pushed away from her, the smell making her queasier than the idea that he could be out sleeping with other women. They weren’t technically in a relationship, though if she hadn’t slept with anyone besides him for the last year, she was inclined to believe that she deserved the same respect. She has no evidence to accompany her accusations, just the continued lack of his presence to fuel her jealous ideations.
A sharp rap that she’d become accustomed to draws her attention. A firm thing, daring her to ignore its presence—and she does try.
Until he does it again and she knows that if she doesn’t answer, he’ll start slamming his big fist—rattling her door until she has no choice but to greet him or welcome the noise complaints from her otherwise pleasant neighbors.
The clean cut of freshly lined jaw hair is the first thing she lays eyes on.
“Can I come in?”
“Depends.”
“On?”
“What do you want?” he says nothing but casts his eyes down to draw her attention to his full hands. It’s then that she notices the freshly cut hydrangea bouquets and white paper bag in his hand. Hesitantly stepping aside, she presses herself against the door frame in an attempt not to graze against the smooth skin of his exposed arms.
Trailing behind him, she watches as he opens and closes cabinets. Filling vases with tap water and dishing up food onto plates. The smell wafting up her nose reveals her usual lunch order from the little cafe around the corner. Grilled chicken and pesto. No tomato, sub the roll for sourdough. Kale salad as the side.
She’d eaten this same meal plenty of times over, and of course he knew it by heart because there’d been a plethora of occasions where they’d sat at this very kitchen island and ate it together. The perplexity of it all makes her scoff, and for the first time since his arrival she locks eyes with his.
Crossing her arms over her chest, she makes her way back over to the island, cleaning up the breakfast that she surely wouldn’t be eating at that point. Languidly washing her dishes, she has no plans to acknowledge his hovering behind her. It’s when she turns to grab the towel hanging from the handle of her stove that she realizes just how close he’s standing.
Beating her to it, he seizes the towel and holds it just out of her reach, stepping forward once more to cage her in between the sink and his arms.
Water runs down her wrists, trickling onto the floor when he scoops up her hands, dragging the towel agonizingly slow from base to tip of each of her fingers. Drying her hands and keeping her trapped in his orbit.
“I’m sorry.”
“That’s what you always say.” She grumbles, trying to pull away, but the grip he has on her is firm.
“And I always mean it. I shouldn’t have snapped at you like that.”
“And yet you did.”
“Ji, I’m—"
“For somebody that doesn’t do this shit,” she flexes her fingers in the air, “you sure do know your way around my house pretty well.” Gesturing toward the freshly placed flowers and chilling food on the countertop.
Clenching his jaw, he never shifts his gaze from her own. “I’m sorry…and I’ll keep saying it until you believe me.”
“Believe you? We repeat this same stupid ass cycle over and over and over again; why would I ever believe you?”
“Do I not always come back?”
“Well, stop coming back if this is all we’re ever gonna do! What good is you coming back if you never stay?” pushing at his chest, she slips from in between him and the counter. “I meant what I said… You come and go as you please and act like I’m supposed to just jump for joy every time you show back up.”
“I wanna take you somewhere.” His abrupt statement makes her scrunch her nose up.
“The fuck? Oh please, you always come up in here with that sugar talking shit thinking it’s gonna fix everything.”
Arms flailing around as she curses him, her voice trails deeper into the apartment, and he follows it like a moth to a flame. He finds her in the bathroom, aggressively tidying up the already clean space, knowing that she’s doing anything to keep her hands busy.
“I’m serious...I keep telling you that I’m trying… and this is me keeping my word”
“I haven’t talked to you in an entire week, and you show up here asking to ‘take me somewhere,’ and I’m supposed to just agree?”
“Well…yes.”
“You’re serious?”
“As a heart attack.”
“…Fine, let’s say I humor you and go somewhere,” again she raises her hands in those mocking air quotes, and by now his patience is razor thin. “Where would we go?”
“I can’t tell you”
“Get out.” She pushes at his chest.
Jumping to embrace her, once again he corrals her in between him and the counter.
“I’m serious. I want to take you somewhere, and I want you to trust that I mean it when I say I’m trying to do better.”
“…I just can’t ‘push you’…everything has to be on your time, right?”
Choosing to ignore her jab, he resorts to begging. “Please, Ji?" he nuzzles into the side of her neck, leaving tender nibbles. “pleaseeeeeeeee”
“Oh my god… fine…move away from me!”
Continuing to plant kisses along her face and neck, the sound of her resolved giggling spurs him on.
“Gimme a kiss”
“Oh, hell no… you freak,” raising a hand to mush his face away, she’s still unable to escape his grasp.
“Gimme a kiss!” he slams a palm against the plush flesh of her ass, sending her into a fit of giggles.
“I’m not giving you a kiss; you don’t deserve it!” she manages through full blown laughter.
“What’s a man gotta do to get some love around here?” he whines, finally releasing her into the open space of her bedroom.
“Behave,” she calls over her shoulder, heading back to ingest the meal that he’d bought with him.
“I can do that…” The tone of his voice is suggestive, and she turns her nose up when he tickles at the skin along her hips.
Swiping away his worming fingers, she chides him for being ‘so nasty’. Planting an open mouthed smooch along her jaw, he swats at her ass once more, “hurry up girl, we got places to be!”
——
She wasn’t sure what to expect when he told her that he was adamant to make amends for their last quarrel. Their first stop being an Ulta Beauty was not even in her realm of possibility. As far as she knew, this store didn’t even exist in his psyche.
Prompting her to get whatever she wanted may have been a misstep on his part, and yet he didn’t bat an eye while she loaded up the neon orange shopping bag that looked minuscule against his beefy frame.
She repurchases each step of her daily routine and procures a few new items that she’d had her eye on. When he suggested she venture into the haircare section, she couldn’t help but be suspicious. Years of meltdowns when styling her curly meant that as soon as she had enough money, she found the best natural hair salon in her vicinity, and her biweekly hair appointments had been a staple in her routine for the last decade.
One full shopping bag turned into 2 oversized bags of purchases, and her body cringed when the total appeared on the small screen. Back in the car, she has half a mind to make a snarky remark about him buying her favor, yet she keeps quiet, not wanting to jeopardize her multiple boxes of new Burberry perfume. It’s the least he can do.
The first missed turn he makes on the way back to her home, she brushes off; perhaps they were making another stop. Then he misses another, and another, until they’re on the open highway headed the complete opposite direction of her downtown penthouse.
“Where exactly are we going?”
“You’ll see.” He shuts down her line of questioning, never even turning his head from the road.
When the private plane she’d ridden on a plethora of times comes into her line of vision, her mind formulates so many questions that her mouth opens and closes multiple times before settling on one.
“What are we doing here?”
“I told you I wanted to take you somewhere”
“And we went, and you bought me all this stuff… never once did you mention a plane.”
He grabs for her raised hands, pulling one over to his mouth to plant a lingering kiss. “Chill, ok…. just trust me.”
“I don’t even have luggage… am I supposed to just be naked the whole time we’re at wherever we’re going?”
“I wouldn’t mind.” She rolls her eyes at his crudeness.
“... And I have work tomorrow—you have work tomorrow”
“Handled that.”
“Roman, seriously, where are we going?”
“Somewhere nice.” He sing songs.
She huffs, shaking her head, and turns her body away from his. “I swear to god… if I end up on the fucking news,” she points her slim finger into his face. He’s unfazed and attempts to chomp at the tip of it, causing her to swat at him. “Grab my stuff!” she hollers, forcing the car door open. When greeted by the flight attendants and airport staff, she leaves him behind to stomp up the stairs.
She opts to play on her phone instead of engaging in the smirks and jests he’d been sending her way. The first half of the flight is rather uneventful until he has enough of being ignored. Making his way over to her and sliding right up behind her on the long window framed couch. Lifting the shade, he prompts her to take a look, and though she’s traveled time and time again— the water beneath them is the bluest she’s ever seen.
Resting his chin on her shoulder, he plants two sweet kisses along the length of her jaw. He doesn’t say much else, and she lets herself relax against him for the duration of their time in the sky.
The flight attendant comes around a few minutes before landing, prompting them to buckle into their seats.
Wrapping his arm around her waist, his thumb glides along the exposed skin of her abdomen. “Remember last year at the hotel in London… I asked if you could go anywhere, where would it be?”
“I remember,” she whispers, not wanting to break their small bubble of peace.
“…And I told you that Hawaii felt like home…”
“Yeah”
“…And what did you tell me?” his soothing voice probed further
“That when I was young my family went to Turks and Caicos, and I didn’t get to go because I had the flu.”
“mmmhmmm”
Leaning further into him, she tilts her face toward his. “Is that where we’re going?” she wonders in disbelief.
“Would that make you happy?”
“…. yeah”
“Good.” Pressing a kiss to the top of her head, it’s the last thing he says before they begin their descent.
——
Upon arrival, a short brown skinned man awaits them, with a handwritten ‘welcome to Turks and Caicos’ sign. She can’t contain the joy on her face. On the ride to their accommodation, she rolls down the windows and takes in the smell of the ocean around them, the sound of the waves lulling her into serenity.
Waiting for them at the entrance of their beachfront villa are two large suitcases. One black and the other a soft lilac. He wastes no time grabbing for the one that she knows belongs to him, rolling it in and toward the bedroom.
Her lack of preparation and his lack of answers to her questions leave her eyeing the bag in perplexity. “How long are we going to be here?” she calls after him.
“Seven days,” he responds as if he’d just told her that the weather was nice. Noticing her still rooted in place near the entrance. He meanders up to her, using one hand to grab for her and the other to grab the handle of what she presumes is her suitcase—though she’s clueless to what it contains.
Leading her into the lavish bedroom, she again stands stock still at the entrance.
“I’m confused,” she confesses, eyes darting around.
Turning to stare at her for a long moment, his eyes gleam with barely concealed emotion. Sitting back onto the plush bed, he beckons her forward.
Stepping up between his legs, she allows his arms to encircle her waist and hers around his neck.
“Why did you bring me here?” she mutters. The long pause he takes before answering leaves the hairs down her spine standing at attention.
“You always say that I never stay…well…can’t get rid of me now.” Caressing the loose hairs down the back of his neck, she lets his words linger. This is what she’s wanted, what she’d been asking him for, for months on end, and yet she can’t help but feel unease welling up in her chest.
“Now,” he prompts, trailing his hands to squeeze the flesh of her ass, “Get ready for dinner, I’m hungry.” Playfully he chomps at the meat on her belly and once again leaves her standing in the middle of the floor, trailing away as if this was still just a regular day at the office.
Unzipping the suitcase reveals a variety of garments—all of which still hold their purchase tags. She knows this bag was packed by him given the neat squares that each article of clothing is folded in, down to the range of bikinis that cover frivolous amounts of skin, fabric pieces so small that she’s sure to be arrested for donning them anywhere else but on this private beach.
Sundresses and the skimpiest pajamas she’s ever laid eyes on await her at the bottom of the bag, and when she lifts a pair of teal lace underwear toward her face, she feels like Bella Swan on her honeymoon. The thought has her slamming the case closed. Cheeks hot and rushing to the shower, where she finds her freshly purchased body care already lined up and waiting.
——
Though she is grateful for her job, constant travel leaves her longing for days like this. Her companion may have been the cause of her emotional duress the week prior, but today he’d been nothing but a true gentleman.
The beachfront restaurant is quaint and, from the looks of it, has been rented out by the man adjacent to her. The soft local music playing through distant speakers paired with her third rum punch of the day has her feeling relaxed enough to blow away with the wind.
So relaxed that she ogles him from across the table without a care for repercussions. The soft cream fabric of the polo he wears clings to his already tanning skin. The humidity in the air causes the short strands around the front of his head to puff and blow in the wind. Reaching a hand to smooth the sleek strands atop his head, the kiss he plants on her wrist sends her hand sliding lower to caress the neatly trimmed hairs of his beard around his lips.
Trailing her eyes down further, she lets them linger on the protruding vein running from the top of his arms down to his wrist that’s wrapped in a black Rolex— she refuses to ask the price. Each time he raises the tumbler of rum to his lips, their eyes meet, and she’s sure her cheeks are red as the lobster shells in front of them.
When he excuses himself to the restroom, she takes the time to enjoy the scenery. At the end of peak tourist season, the crowd surrounding the area is sparse. For the first time since landing eyes on him that morning, she has time to think about the events of the day.
For months they’d had the same fight, and each and every time he’d tell her the same thing: that he was trying, that he needed time, that she couldn’t rush him. Yet here they were on a private island drinking rum and eating lobster without her having to even ask. She scoffs in disbelief. Just this morning she was considering never speaking to him again, and now here she was clenching her thighs at the sight of him sitting across from her. It was a reeling feeling. He was just so confusing. So unpredictable. Waking up every morning, she never knew what the day would entail with him, and yet she craved it all the same.
The feeling of heat atop her head pulls her from her stupor.
“I can hear the wheels turning in your head,” he murmurs into her ear, hot breath sending goosebumps down her arms and back. “What’s going on in that mind?”
Instead of verbalizing her response, she hunches closer, planting a searing kiss upon his lips. Inhaling the mint from the gum atop his tongue she lets her forehead rest against his for a moment. The slight hitch in his breath catches her attention, and when her eyes lock with his, she can see the hunger in his gaze.
“Thank you for bringing me here,” she murmurs against his lips, leaving another kiss along the corner of his mouth before a hand along the back of her neck guides her away. Staring down into her face, he lifts his other hand, running rough pads along the plush of her plump lips. Dragging the bottom down and letting it pop back into place.
Footsteps approaching their table force them to separate. Though they just ate, paying the bill puts her right in the hands of a man starved.
The thrum of rum in her veins fills her with a sultry sense of anticipation. His usual private demeanor is thrown out the window thanks to the buzz coursing through him; the entire ride back, their bodies stayed connected in one way or another. Thighs flush. Hands gripping onto exposed flesh. Lips colliding in kisses that were far too steamy for public consumption.
There's a trail of forgotten clothing leading from the front door to the misty cloud forming in the steaming bathroom. When they’d arrived back to the room, she’d leaned up on her toes, whispering in his ear about how “dirty” she was and that she needed his help getting cleaned up.
The slide of his palms along her slick frame did nothing to quell the residual ache. With each caress closer to her center, she pulsed and squeezed around nothing, waiting to be filled. His hand around her jaw brings her back to the present. His body flush against hers allows her to feel every inch of him twitching and pushing against her ass.
One hand on her throat and the other teasing the slits of her pussy, raises groans from flushed and parted lips. Turning her head to the side, his tongue swoops down upon her. Slanting his lips against hers, she puts up no resistance while his tongue explores the insides of her mouth. When his middle finger dips in between her sodden folds, his parted lips devour her breathy gasps.
One finger turned to two, and then two became three, pumping in and out of her with little remorse. The palm of his hand grounding against her clit with each drag. If it weren't for his grip around her neck, she may have keeled over.
She can feel him grinding his hips against her, and with each particularly hard curl of his wrist, the extra force propels her back into him.
Working his way down from her neck, he takes the time to fondle and twist at her nipples. Reaching his final destination at her navel, he presses down onto her stomach. Between him bouncing her off of his hips and curling his fingers so deep into her, her body has no choice but to release the built up tension.
“Let that shit out,” her growls into her ear. continuing to rut his fingers into her despite the shaking overwhelming her frame.
Gripping onto his wrist, she uses all her will to push his hand free. Slumping over into the tile in front of her. The cool wall grounds her, yet his hips still grind and bounce against her ass. Each swing of his heavy balls sends shocks through her core. The hand she reaches back to press against his abdomen is brushed away.
Pulling her upright, he turns and bends her over the bench at the far side of the shower. Opting to thrust his heavy member between her glistening lips as opposed to grinding it against her spread ass. Slamming his palm down each time her hips meet his, squeezing her thighs together to keep him tucked close between her folds. With each thrust, he catches at her clit, and she can feel another release building from the pits of her stomach.
She must have clenched too hard because he pulls his length from her, letting it rest in the air between them. Catching one of her cheeks, he pulls her lips apart, watching the strings of slick that kept her lips sealed around him spread down her thighs.
“Look at this shit,” he murmurs, sliding two fingers through the mess. He lands one open palmed smack against her center before pulling her upfront and hauling her frame out of the shower.
Tossing her on the edge of the bed, he resumes his previous action by tenfold. Pulling her ass flush against his hips, he creases her legs to her chest. Dropping his heavy dick against chubby folds and watching them bounce upon impact. Sliding back and forth tortuously slow. He captures her lips with his own, sucking and sending new spirals of ecstasy through her.
Though her body was on fire since he'd cornered her in the shower, he’d yet to push into where she needed him most. Attempting to take matters into her own hands, she reaches down to catch him between trembling fingers. Giving it one good squeeze before lifting her hips and attempting to slide him home. He catches her wrist, freezing their bodies in motion.
“noooo please” she whines into the humid air between them.
“fuck.” he murmurs, not in arousal but what sounds like irritation. Opening her eyes to fully glance at his face, she finds his head dipped low into his chest.
Raising her hand to caress his jaw, she draws his attention to her. Exhaling a deep breath, he lifts further away from her. Her brow creases with worry.
“What's—”
“I don't have any condoms,” he pants out, barely holding on to his resolve. “Fucking forgot.”
Though they'd been sleeping together for quite some time, protected sex was something she’d always insisted upon.
Right now, she couldn’t care less.
“Put it in.”
His mouth snaps shut at her request, dropping his forehead to hers, “baby—”
“please—please I don't care..I need it... please,” she whines eyes clenched as if she were in pain.
“You need it?” he confirms, lifting back up to hold his weight over her. Her head bobbles against the bed.
“You want it?” he asks again, resuming his sliding against her folds. Too engrossed in the feeling, all she can do is nod once more.
“uh-uh, open your mouth,” he demands, lifting his hand to the juncture of her jaw, squeezing her cheeks together.
“You want this, yes or no?”
“please—” “yes. or. no.”
“..f-fuck—yess —just..please,” she groans in agony, slapping her palms against his chest.
“Put it in,” he orders, and she wastes no time sheathing him inside of her. Pushing all the way until their hips are flush, and all the air is stolen from her lungs. Her mouth hangs open in a silent scream.
He pulls all the way out before dipping back in. With each drop into her, his body coils tighter. He was no religious man, but he was sure that this was the closest to heaven he would ever get. With each thrust of his hips, she lifts her own to meet him, eyes locked onto their colliding hips with a delirious gaze. He can feel her getting closer when she begins clenching down on him, so hard that he sees stars.
Pulling out, he stumbles back, clenching his eyes and gripping the base in hopes of controlling his own release. He’s unsure of how long he stands there, just that the swipe of a tongue across the head of his dick sends his eyes flying open hissing out from sensitivity.
Now on her hands and knees, eyes clouded over and gazing up at him as if he was water in a scorching desert, she suctions her lips together around the head, letting his hips slide the length of him in and out of her mouth.
Pulling him out, she extends her tongue, dragging it from the tip down to the base where his hand still rests. Licking at the salty essence of his sweaty palms. Dipping lower to plant kisses on his clenched balls.
The length of him sliding and resting along her head sends a shiver up his spine, and he can't hold back the yelp when he cums against his own fruition.
“fuck!” he shouts, gasping for breath, gripping the hair at the base of her neck to pull her hooded glazed eyes skyward. She never ceases her movements. Flattening her tongue, sliding it back and forth over the tip of him to collect the warm essence.
“nasty as fuck” he grits out when he can finally form the words. Reaching behind her to land a searing slap in between her thighs.
“turn your ass around,” he growls down at her. Crawling into the center of the bed, she lowers her head, raising her ass sky high, swaying it back and forth.
He takes the time to mush his face against her core, tasting the mixture of her essence. Before he grips her hips and pushes her flat to the plush bedding.
Dropping down into her and forcing a grunt past her lips. He’s relentless, rutting into her. Laying his entire weight over her body, he drops his head to nuzzle into the crevice of her neck. Her head rests against the arms folded around her, and he thinks he can feel drool pooling in between the creases.
“Talk to me,” he coos, slowing his thrusts to a slow whine into her.
“You with me?” Her only response is a barely there nod.
“uh-uh... use them words... you feel me?” squeezing at her jaw, forcing her to speak.
“..fuck… yes” is her breathy reply
“Yes, what?” he groans low into her ear.
“I feel you, baby”
“You gonna cum?” Another nod. “I can't hear you, mama... you cumming?”
The bearing down around him replaces her response. He can feel her body pull taught underneath him, and the quivering of her lips still being spread wide around him lets him know that she's on her way over the edge. Slinking a hand between their bodies, he rubs tight circles around her already pulsing clit.
Rolling them onto their sides, he keeps pumping his hips lazily in and out of her, pawing and squeezing at her skin until he hears her let out a gasping breath. He doesn't pull out until the rapid rise and fall of her chest evens and her body slackens against him.
꧁༺𝐅𝐞𝐛𝐫𝐮𝐚𝐫𝐲 𝟏𝟑༻꧂
The sun shining overhead leaves beads of sweat trailing down the skin of her abdomen even from where she lay lounged under the bright blue villa umbrella. The most recent bead leaves a trail down her chest and into the middle of her breasts, and she’s sure she can feel his eyes tracking its journey down her body.
She can still feel his bruising grip on her body from the night, and though the beach is empty aside from them, if anyone were to look closely at the array of small shapes along her inner thighs—they would line up in the expanse of large hands. The same large hands that keep reaching over to “adjust” the bikini she wears.
The bright yellow of the material clashes nicely against the bronze of her tanning skin. Just enough coverage to conceal her intimate bits, but even the slightest of movement dares to reveal what the public shouldn't see.
“ I think I can feel your eyes on me more than the sun,” she speaks into the space between them. Instead of lying parallel to her, he provided himself a front row view, turning his chair to face the length of her. He sits with his legs spread wide, beer bottle resting in the opening between them.
She would be a liar to say she hadn’t also been stealing glances at his exposed chest. The way he sits, bunching the fabric of his green swim trunks, barely concealing what she knows lies underneath.
“I’m just knowing how you feel about tan lines.” Lifting her large sunglasses to the top of her head, she props herself to rest on her elbows, and his eyes immediately dart to the movement at her chest.
“There’s a slim chance of being worried about tan lines in this little ass bikini,” she snarks.
He lifts the bottle to his lips, taking a long tantalizing sip, and the blush on her cheeks can obviously only be from the blazing sun.
Resting the bottle on the small wooden table next to him, he raises his hand in a beckoning motion. When she raises her brow, he lifts the small blue can of sunscreen from the mesh bag they'd brought along with them.
“Come on, you don't want wrinkles,” he teases. Rolling her eyes, she concedes. Lifting her body from her chair and standing beside his. The cool spray along her legs sends shivers down her spine, and they only intensify when he meticulously lifts each side of her bottoms to place the sunscreen along the sensitive line of her hips.
She squeals when she's ensnared by corded arms and drug down into his lap to straddle him. Continuing to spray and massage the cool liquid into her skin, her breath hitches when his thumbs graze the front opening of her bottoms. His hands move slower up and around her abdomen until the edges of his middle and pointer fingers drag along the bottom of her breasts.
His palms continue their journey up her body, cupping her bust, lifting the flesh with a squeeze before letting them gently rest back along her chest.
Grabbing onto his wrists, she squeezes, sliding higher up his arms before wrapping around his neck. He continues to caress and spread the fluid around her back and shoulders before reaching the top of her bikini. Fiddling with the knot she’d had him tie extra tight that morning.
“You're naughty, Mr,” she whispers into his ear. Pulling her body closer, their lower halves collide, and both parties take a grounding breath.
“gotta get the rest of this area,” he murmurs, sliding a hand between them to cup her breasts once more. Squeezing at the hardened peaks through the scant fabric. “Would be much easier if you just took this off,” he squeezes again, and her moan is poorly concealed into his shoulder.
“We’re in public,” she berates.
“Ain't nobody out here but us,” he promises, rocking her forward once more. This time her moan is caught between his parted lips, and he ensnares her in a colliding of tongues, rocking her hips back and forth atop his. Soft groans being passed back and forth between them.
Reclining his body back into the chair, his palms glide up and down her spine. Tugging and pulling at heated skin. Her fingers fist into the low bun at the nape of his neck. Tugging at the root when one glide puts a bit too much pressure on her core. She can feel his fingers fiddling with the knot, and just as he’s about to release it, the sound of glasses clinking sends her shooting up. The sudden movement sends his hips bucking skyward.
Approaching was their waiter, John. No older than 40 and the only other person they’d interacted with since their feet hit the sand. His cheerful smile is none the wiser to the crime he’d almost discovered, and when he delivers their refills, he’s oblivious enough to offer to take a photo of their “romantic moment”.
She begins to object, mortification spreading through her veins like wildfire. He, however, does not. Sitting up and reaching into the mesh bag with their belongings, he pulls out his phone, handing it to the man before flushing their bodies together. Still perched atop his lap, she smiles for the photo and forces Roman to tip him extra for his “troubles”.
She ensures he’s out of earshot before smacking a hand down onto her lover's chest. “Ain't nobody out here but us,” she mocks in a deep voice. Pushing up and away from him to retreat back into her own chair—not without a swat to the butt from him.
“he’s gone now. We can pick up right where we left off,” he reminds her.
“Ugh, as if. I'm not going to jail for you,” she replies, shaking her towel off before laying it back flat onto the cushion. Before she can lie down, she notices him rising from the corner of her eye, quietly getting closer.
“Oh yeah,” he challenges
“Yeah,” she snarks, spinning around to face him.
The moment his hand snatches out, she's off, running toward the water with him hot on her heels. He easily catches up to her, scooping her up from the ground, and her laughter is drowned out by him dunking their bodies into the frigid ocean.
♡ 𝐕𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞'𝐬 𝐃𝐚𝐲 ♡
The morning started just as the last one had. She’d awoken surrounded by the heat of his body, housing small aches from their previous night's activities. Breakfast preordered and delivered by room service. Though this time, her fruits and butter disks were cut into the shape of a heart.
She considered it a cute quirk from the staff, until she read the small card lining the tray—wishing them a happy Valentine's Day. While he snoozed away in the ruffled bed, she stood frozen near the table.
Valentine's Day. It was Valentine's Day. They were here, together, sharing a bed and having so much sex she was sure to need to do a pregnancy test upon arrival back home…on Valentine's Day. Before she could catastrophize she decides to brush it off. Chalking it up to him pissing her off the week before and spontaneously deciding to make it up to her the next. Tucking the card under a spare plate, she pads into the room to wake him.
——
The heated pool outside of their bedroom is where they find themselves after scarfing down their breakfast.
“For someone who cares so much about sunscreen, you sure are burnt up,” she chastises, skimming her pointer finger across his cheeks and nose. The skin is tender and warm under her touch. Eyes closed, he lets out a brief grunt of acknowledgment.
The sound of water swishing around reveals his hand rising from its place beneath her thigh. Trailing up her arm to her swim top—though not as severe as the day prior, still offering barely any coverage. He peels back the fabric to reveal the faintest hint of a tan across her chest.
“Think I did a pretty good job,” he quips, peeking at her with one eye open. Her legs wrap tighter around his hips when he lifts off the step he’d been resting on. Wading them deeper into the water. For the past few hours they’d done nothing but float around in this pool, trading the pressings of their lips against the other and whispering small talk.
Serene. It's how she’s felt since they'd touched down. She’d dreamed of days like this, to just enjoy each other's company without the weight of responsibility at the forefront of her mind.
Though she had to admit, that a nagging thought had been plaguing her the entire trip. One that is so hard to contain, especially when his body is flush against hers, gripping and maneuvering her to pull pleasure from every nerve in her body.
A nip at the center of her chest causes her to gasp. Casting her head down, their eyes connect, his brows lifting in anticipation.
“Hear what I said?”
“Huh?”
Chuckling, he shakes his head, walking them back toward the pool's entrance.
“Someone's knocking on the door,” he announces, planting her down and rising from the water. Following behind him, they arrive at the front door, and through the glass she can see someone from the villa staff. Holding a large bouquet of at least a hundred roses, formed into the shape of a heart with a stark white card in the center.
Reservation requests for the spa. A couples massage... On Valentine's Day. Her internal spiraling from the morning resurfaces. The timing of their trip was no accident.
After securing the spots and bidding the young woman a good day, it's just the two of them once again. “If you wanted to spend Valentine's Day with me, all you had to do was ask,” she jokes, hoping that he’ll reveal that this is all a misunderstanding.
“Would you have said yes?” he challenges, no humor in his voice.
“Maybe”
“Exactly,” leaning down to plant a lingering kiss onto her lips, he dips a finger into the string between her breasts. “Now…I think I can figure out how to spend our time before the spa.”
——
Throughout the time that they'd known each other, her biggest gripe with him had to be his refusal of commitment. The only thing she’d ever seen him be loyal to was his career, and even then his attention often strayed. The source of their longest standing—and most recent— argumnent being his refusal to just accept that their relationship was more than a casual fling. Not even asking him to put a label on things, though at his age the task seemed juvenile.
So she was sure that her mind was playing tricks on her when, in the midst of their “couples” massage, the sweet masseuses attempting to make small talk wondered how long they'd been together, and his response was “a while”.
The resulting “very tense” from her own masseuse was confirmation that a larger conversation needed to be had between the two very nude adults. She’d never been more confused and quite frankly pissed off. Did he really see it that way, or was it a lie just to get the women to stop questioning him?
Thankfully, they were both faced down, so he couldn't see the tears welling in her eyes. It was stupid really to get so worked up over semantics. But it was the one thing she’d be asking—begging him for.
How easily it slipped off of his tongue makes her stomach feel sick. Just a week prior, he’d sworn up and down that he didn't do this “shit,” and yet here they were being rubbed down with fucking chamomile and volcanic rocks.
The walk back from the spa is noticeably silent, and when she requests to shower on her own, he knows that his words from earlier upset her.
He didn't think too much about them when he said them, really. He meant what he said. He knows that it's wrong to feel how he does and constantly withhold it from her, even though time and time again she's proved to be nothing like them.
--
𝑁𝑂𝑉𝐸𝑀𝐵𝐸𝑅 1990
“𝑊𝐼𝐿𝐿 𝑌𝑂𝑈 𝑆𝑇𝐴𝑌?” 𝑆𝐻𝐸 𝑊𝐻𝐼𝑆𝑃𝐸𝑅𝐸𝐷, 𝐻𝐸𝐿𝑃𝐼𝑁𝐺 𝐻𝐼𝑀 𝑅𝐸𝐷𝑂 𝑇𝐻𝐸 𝐶𝑈𝐹𝐹𝐿𝐼𝑁𝐾𝑆 𝑂𝑁 𝑇𝐻𝐸 𝐸𝑁𝐷 𝑂𝐹 𝐴𝑁 𝑂𝑉𝐸𝑅𝐿𝑌 𝑆𝑇𝐴𝑅𝐶𝐻𝐸𝐷 𝐷𝑅𝐸𝑆𝑆 𝑆𝐻𝐼𝑅𝑇.
“𝑌𝑂𝑈 𝐴𝐿𝑅𝐸𝐴𝐷𝑌 𝐾𝑁𝑂𝑊 𝑇𝐻𝐸 𝐴𝑁𝑆𝑊𝐸𝑅 𝑇𝑂 𝑇𝐻𝐴𝑇,” 𝐻𝐸 𝐺𝑅𝑈𝑀𝐵𝐿𝐸𝐷, 𝑅𝐸𝐹𝑈𝑆𝐼𝑁𝐺 𝑇𝑂 𝐿𝑂𝑂𝐾 𝐻𝐸𝑅 𝐼𝑁 𝑇𝐻𝐸 𝐸𝑌𝐸.
“𝐼 𝐾𝑁𝑂𝑊..𝐼 𝐾𝑁𝑂𝑊….𝐵𝑈𝑇 𝑆𝑈𝑅𝐸𝐿𝑌 𝑆𝐻𝐸 𝑊𝑂𝑈𝐿𝐷𝑁'𝑇 𝐾𝑁𝑂𝑊; 𝐻𝑂𝑊 𝑊𝑂𝑈𝐿𝐷 𝑆𝐻𝐸 𝐾𝑁𝑂𝑊? 𝑌𝑂𝑈 𝑇𝑂𝐿𝐷 𝐻𝐸𝑅 𝑌𝑂𝑈 𝑊𝐸𝑅𝐸 𝑂𝑁 𝐴 𝐵𝑈𝑆𝐼𝑁𝐸𝑆𝑆 𝑇𝑅𝐼𝑃, 𝑅𝐼𝐺𝐻𝑇?”
“𝑅𝐼𝐺𝐻𝑇”
“𝑆𝑂 𝑊𝐻𝑌 𝐶𝐴𝑁'𝑇 𝑌𝑂𝑈 𝑆𝑇𝐴𝑌… 𝐽𝑈𝑆𝑇 𝑇𝐻𝐼𝑆 𝑂𝑁𝐶𝐸?” 𝑆𝐻𝐸 𝑃𝐿𝐸𝐴𝐷𝑆.
“… 𝐼 𝐺𝑂𝑇𝑇𝐴 𝐺𝐸𝑇 𝐵𝐴𝐶𝐾; 𝑆𝐻𝐸’𝐿𝐿 𝐵𝐸 𝐸𝑋𝑃𝐸𝐶𝑇𝐼𝑁𝐺 𝑀𝑌 𝐶𝐴𝐿𝐿.” 𝐻𝐸 𝐿𝐼𝐸𝑆. 𝐻𝐸 𝐴𝐿𝑊𝐴𝑌𝑆 𝐿𝐼𝐸𝐷.
𝑇𝐻𝐴𝑇 𝑁𝐼𝐺𝐻𝑇, 𝐽𝑈𝑆𝑇 𝐿𝐼𝐾𝐸 𝑇𝐻𝐸 𝑂𝑇𝐻𝐸𝑅𝑆, 𝐻𝐸 𝐿𝐴𝑌 𝐶𝑈𝑅𝐿𝐸𝐷 𝐼𝑁 𝑇𝐻𝐸 𝑇𝑂𝐷𝐷𝐿𝐸𝑅 𝑆𝐼𝑍𝐸𝐷 𝐵𝐸𝐷 𝐻𝐸’𝐷 𝐿𝑂𝑁𝐺 𝑆𝐼𝑁𝐶𝐸 𝑂𝑈𝑇𝐺𝑅𝑂𝑊𝑁, 𝐿𝐼𝑆𝑇𝐸𝑁𝐼𝑁𝐺 𝑇𝑂 𝑇𝐻𝐸 𝑆𝑂𝑈𝑁𝐷 𝑂𝐹 𝐻𝐼𝑆 𝑀𝑂𝑇𝐻𝐸𝑅'𝑆 𝐶𝑅𝐼𝐸𝑆 𝑊𝐻𝐸𝑁 𝑇𝐻𝐸 𝐹𝑅𝑂𝑁𝑇 𝐷𝑂𝑂𝑅 𝑂𝐹 𝑇𝐻𝐸𝐼𝑅 𝑆𝑀𝐴𝐿𝐿, 𝑅𝑈𝑁𝐷𝑂𝑊𝑁 𝐻𝑂𝑀𝐸 𝑆𝐿𝐴𝑀𝑀𝐸𝐷 𝐶𝐿𝑂𝑆𝐸𝐷.
--
Anytime Jireh whispered those words to him after a night spent together, his stomach would clench in agony. He was no better than him. It's why he’d taken to pretending to sleep until he could hear the steadying of her breaths.
He tried. Started leaving small things behind in an attempt to get himself to stay, and yet anytime he willed himself to do it, that nagging thought in the back of his mind sent him on his way.
The idea that she would wake up in the morning and be angry at seeing him still in her home was enough to wake him, doused in a cold sweat anytime he found himself drifting off in the plush sheets of her bed.
Waiting for her to get out of the shower is excruciating, and hearing her sniffles through the door makes the pit in his stomach fall even further. Sitting at the edge of the bed, he catches her before she can slip into the closet. Bringing her between his legs, he grabs onto her hips for stability.
“That was fucked up… not fair to you.”
“It's fin—”
“It's not; shouldn't have brushed it off like that, not when we’re still trying to figure our shit out.”
Nodding her head, she uses the edge of the towel to wipe at the corners of her eyes. “Come here,” he murmurs, pulling her into his lap and wrapping her in a warm embrace. Her grip around his neck is almost suffocating, but the way she nuzzles into him makes up for the lack of air. Shhhing and cooing at her, he caresses the back of her head and down her back, still damp from her shower.
She pulls away first, leaning back to stroke along the skin under his eyes. He’s not expecting the tender kiss she plants on his lips, and he’d be a fool to not reciprocate.
Gripping from the front, he slowly unfurls the towel tucked around her frame, revealing damp and tender skin waiting to be moisturized. Scooping her up by the flesh of her ass, he flips them over. Planting her on her back. Her brows dip low when he retreats, and he shhh’s her once more before quickly returning. The bottle in his hands lands firmly next to her.
Dragging his palm from her chest down to the top of her pelvis, he rubs soothing circles. Periodically stopping to grab the bottle for more of the oily substance. Caressing each part of her skin.
Momentarily, he flips her onto her stomach to massage the loosened muscles along her spine. Cupping his hands beneath her ass, spreading her cheeks apart before letting them snap back together, she lets out a muffled moan.
His thumbs dip closer and closer to her center, and he can surely see the mess between her legs despite her recent shower. Using his thumb, he teases a swipe down the middle, pulling a gasp from her. Flipping her back over, he does it again before lifting his thumb to his lips to savor the taste.
Pulling from the back of his neck, he removes his shirt, tossing it somewhere behind him before gripping behind her knees and lowering himself to spread her wide. Feasting his eyes on the pooling essence already threatening to run over onto the ruffled sheets. The first drag of his tongue bows her spine and leaves her breathless.
Dragging his tongue up and over each crevice and suctioning his lips around her pulsing clit. The gyrating of her hips forces him to pin her bottom to the mattress, anchoring his open mouth to her leaking pussy.
His two fingers siccors around her clit all the while his flat tongue swipes across her until she begins to shake in his grasp. Pulling back, he swipes a hand down his mouth, collecting the residual moisture and rubbing it back onto its source . Folding her legs back together and using them to force her body further up the bed.
Through hooded eyes, she watches him remove his shorts and boxers. Both fully nude and observing the other. The longer he stands watching her attempt to control her breathing, the harder he becomes.
Grabbing for his shaft, his hand drags slow pumps from base to tip, squeezing at the base with each pass in an attempt to control his heightening arousal. She watches him come to life, hardening to the point of exposing a protruding vein. Her mouth water and the idea of dragging and tongue across it.
When he crawls in between her legs, the shivers have overrun her body. He spreads her lower lips once more. Running his fingers through her syrupy center.
Swiping the moisture onto her painfully hardened nipples before dipping down and collecting them into his mouth. Closing his eyes to savor the taste. The swirling of his tongue combined with the weight of him pressed against her center leaves her dizzy.
Gasping when he gently presses his teeth into the skin of her breast. She strains to keep from cumming just from the tension. The first slip of him inside sends her reeling. Clenching down and gasping for breath, gripping onto the sheets beneath them.
Not even stroking in and out of her, he just swirls his hips, dragging out her pleasure.
When he begins pumping his hips, she can't help the tears that free flow from her eyes. His pace is tantalizingly slow, and she grips onto the skin at his shoulders to ground herself.
When he slides an arm under her hips to deepen his reach, an animalistic growl flows from her parted lips.
Cocooning her in his embrace, he places both of his palms flat under her ass, keeping her pressed as close as possible, barely lifting his hips with each stroke.
With each shallow thrust, the skin along his pelvis catches and pulls at her clit, winding her up even more.
“I know, baby..I know,” he murmurs against her lips. Sucking at them, all the while her mouth hangs open in muted whimpers. The curve of his hips sends his dick mushing into the soft spot deep inside her.
Besides the growls and bustling moans coming from her, she hasn't spoken a word—can't speak with the pleasure coursing through her, eating at her insides. Clawing at the skin of his back and ass, her body curls even further into his
It starts in her toes, tingling its way up to her hips and over her chest, stealing her breath away. Bearing down on him, his close proximity is the only thing keeping him sheathed inside of her when she lets go, around him, body trembling in overstimulation.
His hips pick up speed. Rutting into her.
“Inside...” she heaves wrapping her arms and legs painfully tight around him.
“What?”
“...Inside... please... cum inside me”
His body stiffens and a deep bellied grunt bellows out of him. Ropes of warm cum seep deep inside her and he continues to grind into her, pacing himself for the next one.
꧁༺ 𝐅𝐞𝐛𝐫𝐮𝐚𝐫𝐲 𝟏𝟓༻꧂.
A gentle breeze trickling in through the agape balcony door is what wakes him. Letting his head fall to the side, bleary brown eyes blink open. The sheer curtain flowing with the wind carries in the sound of waves crashing along the shore. He would never sleep with an open door. She must have cracked it in the night.
Closing his eyes once more, inhaling the fresh air, he lets his hand feel around for her under the blanket. The further his hand extends without brushing against her, the more confusion sets in. He discovers her on the right side of the king sized bed, sprawled with her back turned towards him, not where she lay the night before.
He’s not sure when exactly they fell asleep; he just remembers curling her to his chest, caging her in as her trembling form came down from yet another high. Rolling onto his side, he lets his hand graze across her bare back before sliding it to her front to drag her body further into the middle of the bed. The movement rouses her.
"Nooooo, let me sleep," she grumbles, rolling back to the far side of the bed.
"Too far," he murmurs, still pulling her into him. With a huff, she flops over into the space near him, extending one arm over his chest. Raising it up to his lips, he peppers kisses onto her fingers, trailing them down onto her palm. She looks so serene. Unburdened by life and its many expectations.
The nip at his side brings his attention to her.
“Did you just bite me?” he questions, hearing her grumble once again. Detesting his movement, she was never a fan of early mornings.
Giving in to his pestering, she throws herself onto him with a deep huff. The nibbles she plants on his throat make him chuckle, and she squeaks when he lands a swift crack on the bare skin of her backside.
“Ughhh, you're waking me up for no reason!”
“What if I wanted something?” he teases.
Cracking one eye open, he can see the smirk forming along her lips. Baring her teeth, she launches to bite him once more before the entire weight of his body crashes down on top of her. Landing bites along her neck and chest, he lets the sound of her jovial giggles carry them into the day.
Authors Note| guys I'm sorry for the delay! I know I said I was gonna post this yesterday but this originally was a short that I wrote till 5k then when I was editing idk what happened but we got up to 9k...then a sex monster stole my laptop and wrote a bunch of crazy stuff!
I said I was done with these two crazy fools but this idea has been on my mind for so long!
as always hope you enjoy. xoxo, ego💋
this shit is sooo tea 🤏🏾🤏🏾😩
