Monterey Bay Aquarium
Three Goblin Art
oozey mess
trying on a metaphor
NASA
occasionally subtle
titsay
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH
AnasAbdin
#extradirty
Cosmic Funnies
Keni
almost home
Acquired Stardust
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open
Discoholic 🪩
pixel skylines
Aqua Utopia｜海の底で記憶を紡ぐ
Mike Driver
art blog(derogatory)
seen from Saudi Arabia
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@rafesteddy
𝓜𝓲𝓼𝓴𝓲. 🇨🇦 ⋆｡˚ an adult 𑣲 +18 minor dni 𝒽𝑜𝒸𝓀𝑒𝓎 𝓇𝒶𝒻𝑒’𝓈 𝓌𝒶𝑔
requests—closed
𝔤𝔞𝔯𝔯𝔢𝔱𝔱 𝔤𝔯𝔞𝔥𝔞𝔪 𝔞𝔠𝔠𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔱 𝓃𝑒𝓌 𝒸𝑜𝓃𝓉𝑒𝓃𝓉 ✶ 𝒸𝓇𝑜𝓈𝓈𝓅𝑜𝓈𝓉𝓈 𝓁𝒶𝒷𝑒𝓁𝑒𝒹
𑣲 𝓜𝔂 recent drops 𑣲 𝓡𝓪𝓯𝓮 masterlists 𑣲 𝓜𝔂 taglist
nhl account 𑣲⋆｡˚ heated rivalry 𑣲⋆｡˚ writing updates 𑣲⋆｡˚
𝓻𝓪𝓯𝓮𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓭𝓭𝔂© do not copy my work
homesick lately. how insufferable has toronto been since Ice Man dropped and the Canadiens loss last night? someone get me out of this funk 😌
🤰🏻🤰🏻🤰🏻🤰🏻
ur account is so beautiful i just wanna cry
Ahhh thank you lovely!!! I hope you’re having a great Saturday 💕☺️
Drew Strakey as Rafe Cameron OUTER BANKS (2020-) | Season 3 Episode 8
DREW STARKEY as RAFE CAMERON best rafe cameron looks 11/?
I literally love how you always have the perfect Sabrina reaction gifs
She has some of the besttttt 😋💕 I hope you’re having a great night bby
Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let’s spread the self-love 💗
Awwww Hi hun!!! Thanks for the ask 🩷
1) bar down—nhl rafe every time lol
2) giving away your number at the bar—frat rafe
3) you + scream <- 2024 + 25 kinktobers in general
4) the angel hotline—frat rafe
5) breaking + entering—son’s bsf
also PTOP perv rafe + sharing twin rafe 😂
😋💕🫶🏽🫶🏽
DREW STARKEY as RAFE CAMERON outer banks (2020–)
Ahhhhhhhhhh 😛😛😛😛😛😛😛
The incredible amount of effort u put into ur writing doesn't go unnoticed babe!! <3
Awww thank you!!! I’ve been in my head about my last drop—I appreciate you 💕🫶🏽☺️
of course lol well have so much fun! have a drink for me 🥂 and go habs!
Oh bby we did thatttttttt
The Assistant… 𝓭𝓻𝓮𝓼𝓼𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓱𝓲𝓶 𝓾𝓹
son’s bsf frat!rafe x sugar milf!reader
c/w: age gap, possessive!rafe, jealous!rafe, oral sex (fem. receiving), power imbalance, praise, soft bondage, unprotected p in v, w.a.m. + language
3.4K words
“…What’s this?”
You shrug, sipping your champagne.
“Your office wardrobe.”
His head turns immediately. “My what?”
“You’re my assistant now,” you remind him simply. “You have to look the part.”
Rafe laughs under his breath. “Baby,” he says slowly, walking toward the rack of clothes. “What the fuck?” He reaches for one of the charcoal jackets, pulling it out to look it over. “You bought all this for me?”
“You needed it,” you hum against the rim of your glass.
“Well, thank you. But, baby, I own clothes,” he says, hands moving through the hangers while the tags swing beneath them. “Unbelievable.”
“What?”
“Nothin’, baby,” he hums, fighting a smile as he pulls one of the black dress shirts free, holding it against his bare chest before glancing at you. “You picked this out?”
“Mhmm…”
“For me specifically?” He points to himself, adjusting the waistband of his new slacks.
You roll your eyes, finishing the rest of your champagne.
“Damn, you are so into me,” he teases.
His watch glints in the low bedroom lighting as he stuffs his hands into his pockets, turning slightly to check the fit of the pants.
“You saw this and thought about me wearin’ it?” He asks.
“Rafe—”
“M’serious,” he laughs. “That’s fuckin’ crazy.”
He looks back at the rack again, shaking his head once like he still can’t believe it, chains glinting against tanned skin, the sharp lines of his hips disappearing beneath the dark pants.
His hair’s already messy, falling into his eyes before his ringed hand pushes it back. His eyes catch yours and you look away instantly.
“No, no,” he murmurs, catching it immediately. “Keep lookin’ at me like that.”
“You like it?” You ask.
“Love it,” he counters, tongue pressing against the inside of his cheek. “I’m gonna look good standing next to you.”
“You look very pretty, Rafe.”
“Fuck,” he cuts in immediately, blush running across his cheeks as he drops his head for a second. “You can’t say shit like that.”
“Why not?”
“‘Cause—” He drags a hand over his mouth, laughing again before looking back at you. “I’m a fuckin’ whore for attention, that’s why. Ego’s through the goddamn roof after last night. You need to reign it in.”
“You want me to reign it in?” You chuckle because you know that’s not true.
He scoffs, already shaking his head. “Absolutely not… You said we were casual. This doesn’t feel casual, sweetheart.”
Before you can answer, he reaches for the black dress shirt again, sliding one arm into it, then the other, buttoning it slowly while watching you.
“…You don’t mean it,” he murmurs.
Your eyes catch on the rings, the heavy watch at his wrist, the chains resting beneath the open collar while he adjusts the cuffs.
“Mean what?”
“You don’t wanna see me with anyone else,” he says quietly. “Givin’ somebody else my time. Sleepin’ with somebody else.”
“Can’t watch you leave with someone else like you did,” he mutters, jaw tightening. “I know you were tryin’ to teach me a lesson, but damn.” He shakes his head once. “That fucked me up.”
“You weren’t gonna sleep with him, were you?” Rafe asks.
Your breath catches, but you laugh anyway, trying to play it off.
“Everything you wanted to happen happened, huh?” He says, rolling his sleeves up slowly. “Just get everything you want, don’t you, baby?”
You smile faintly, pouring yourself another glass before lifting it toward him in a lazy little toast.
Rafe exhales through his nose, grinning to himself.
“Goddamn,” he mutters. “You’re gonna make me obsessed with you.”
You cross one leg over the other, silk robe sliding higher along your thigh, drawing his eyes to you.
“You’re too good to me,” he hums, turning on his heel like he needs a second to recover.
“When you’re good to me,” you say sweetly, “I’m good to you.”
He closes the distance until he’s towering over you, fit body wrapped in Prada.
“Damn,” he murmurs. “Sex was that good?”
A smile plays on his lips as he reaches down, taking your hand in his and guiding you to your feet. His arms wrap around you instantly, one resting against your back, the other gripping your ass through the satin in his big palm.
He dips down, pressing his mouth against yours, smiling into the kiss before his tongue slides along yours, leaving your head hazy with it.
“Or,” he murmurs against your lips, “was it when I broke in… again?”
Heat rushes into your cheeks.
Your fingers smooth slowly up the front of his shirt, feeling the expensive fabric stretched over hard muscle beneath it before sliding around his neck, laughing softly against his mouth.
“I could wake you up like that every morning if you let me,” he mumbles. “And you thought I couldn’t take care of you?” His grin turns smug against your lips. “Had you cryin’ for me at eight in the morning.”
Your heart starts racing all over again.
Not because of what you did.
Because of the thought of him doing it for somebody else.
“You’re right,” you whisper.
“I’m what?” He laughs, like the words sound completely foreign coming out of your mouth.
“I don’t mean it,” you admit quietly.
His shoulders loosen immediately, tension leaving him all at once. His tongue drags along his bottom lip, broad chest square with yours, looking down at you like he could finally relax.
“Say it again,” he mumbles as his hand comes up to cradle your neck, kissing you deeply before drawing back just enough where your lips brush.
“You don’t sleep with anyone else,” you mumble.
“Neither do you,” he echoes softly.
“Deal,” you whisper.
“How the fuck am I supposed to get this past the guys? All this nice shit,” he mutters. “Seriously,” he says. “The watch? The shoes? The suits. They're dumb, but they’re not that dumb. They’re gonna know I got this from someone.”
Your nails glide slowly through the hair at the nape of his neck. “You could tell him the truth.”
Rafe laughs against your mouth, breathless and dreamy, his hands wrapping around the back of your thighs, lifting you off your feet and into his strong arms.
“Hey, Tommy… I’m fuckin’ your mom.”
“Of course not—”
“Well, then what the fuck am I gonna do?” He asks, tossing you down on your big, soft bed. Your silk robe falling open, nothing but black lace underneath.
“Just tell him a different name,” you murmur, fingers playing lightly with the hair at the nape of his neck. “Someone he doesn’t know. Tell him it’s casual. She’s private.”
“Lyin’ about some random woman when I got you?” He asks as he grabs for his belt, tugging it open, his eyes tracing higher and higher, lifting until they reach yours. “Dressin’ me up. Spoilin’ me. I’m your assistant—”
“You are,” you smile, as he lowers the zipper on his slacks.
“You think they’re not gonna think it’s weird? Me bein’ there?”
His pants hit the floor with a heavy thud before he climbs on the mattress, his arms hooking under your thighs, kissing your knee, working lower.
“That you picked me specifically.”
“I did—I hired a few of your frat brothers. Tommy’s my assistant over at the country club. Kelce handles the restaurant property down by the water.” Your hand reaches out, raking into his bangs. “You’ve got the hotel… I still have Bauer.”
The second the name leaves your lips, something in him tightens.
You feel it immediately in the way his hands stop moving, eyes narrow slightly on yours, the grip on you getting a little tighter.
“Bauer?” He repeats, leaning back just enough to look at you properly. “How come I never heard about Bauer?”
“Why would my son’s frat brother just hear about the executive assistant at my work?” You chuckle uneasily.
“Bauer… St. James?” He asks slowly. “So he works around you all day?”
“Rafe—”
“He hot.”
You blink back at him, waiting for the rest of his statement.
“That’s not a no,” the words break past his lips, half-kidding, half-furious, not wanting to seem insecure but he is. Your eyes roll, laughing it off.
“Rafe.” His name comes out firmer this time, grounding him instantly.
He stares at you for half a second before scoffing and looking away, trying to collect himself.
Bauer St. James was the kind of guy frat houses built folklore around. A few years older than Rafe, still talked about at parties and golf tournaments like some frat legend. Smart. Polished. Impossible to dislike.
The kind of guy who could black out at a party, still show up to an eight a.m. presentation looking like a Ralph Lauren campaign, then ace the exam anyway.
“You hired him?” Rafe asks again, dropping his forehead against your knee now like the answer physically pains him.
“He’s good at his job,” you say calmly.
“… He better be,” he mutters bitterly.
“He’s been with me for years.”
His jaw clicks. “Years?” He repeats.
You laugh softly, but he isn’t really joking anymore because Bauer makes sense beside you. That’s the problem. Meanwhile Rafe rolled a beer cart into the water three weeks ago.
“He anticipates things before I ask,” you explain softly. “Scheduling, travel, meetings.” Your fingers drift through his hair slowly. “He basically runs my life—”
“Oh, yeah?” Rafe mutters sarcastically against your knee. “Sounds like a fucking nightmare for me.”
He stews for a minute, his expression softening before he looks up at you, with his sad blue, puppy dog eyes and you can’t help but laugh at how pitifully dramatic and jealous he is.
“I thought… I dunno. Thought that I’d do that for you.”
You lift an eyebrow, begging the silent question. How?
“Thought I had that position locked down.”
“You are objectively terrible at your job, baby,” you say gently.
“Yeah,” he admits, nodding in agreement. “That’s fair. And, he’s not—“
“He’s not.”
“Damn… I hate that for me,” he chuckles as his hand drifts down your leg, thumb brushing along the seam of your panties. You two ever… I mean. Has he—”
“No,” you stop him before he can spin out anymore. “Nothing—You don’t need to be jealous of Bauer.”
“Easier said than fuckin’ done,” he chuckles, turning his head just enough to kiss a little lower along your thigh. “Well,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss over the lace, “that sucks for him.”
Your brows lift slightly, feeling a tingle go straight through your body when he licks a line up your clothed slit. “Why?”
Rafe’s gaze drags slowly over your face before he smiles faintly. “Because eventually,” he says quietly, “you’re gonna look at me like that too.”
“I am?” You ask and he hums out a yes, the utterance vibrating against your pussy.
“I didn’t care about the golf course,” he continues, entirely too pleased with himself. “Got way more attention from you, acting like a complete piece of shit. It was strategic.”
You laugh despite yourself, cheeks burning with your smile.
“Sue me.”
His grin widens as his rough thumb pulls your panties to the side.
“I love a little competition,” he mumbles. “St. James might know your schedule.” His breath fans over your skin, lips dropping low. “But I know how you look at me.”
You bite your lip and smile, giving him that same look—watching as his tongue lays out, dragging slowly up your pussy, making your back arch.
“You know what he definitely doesn’t have?” He asks smugly, his rough fingers coming up to trace your entrance slowly. “Your taste on his lips… twice, in one fucking day,” he mutters as his hands wrap around the fabric at your hips pulling it down in one desperate tug.
His arms tighten around your thighs, pulling you to his face, burying himself in your pussy. “Fuck me,” he mutters, the words sending vibrations straight through your core. “Been thinking about this all day. Couldn’t stop.”
You gasp, fingers threading into his hair, tugging hard enough to make him moan against your clit—his fingers pushing deeper.
Your sounds echo softly through your bedroom as his fingers fuck into your soaked core, curling just right, again and again, until— “Right there, Rafe,” you breathe, hips rocking into his mouth. “Please.”
Your orgasm hits like a wave—hard and fast—his name tumbling from your lips, breathless and broken, as he hums against you, getting off on every flutter of your pussy around his thick fingers.
“That’s it baby,” he breathes, kissing you slow and deep between your thighs, then dragging his lips up your body until he’s chest to chest with you. “How was that—”
“Perfect,” you whisper, your mouth finding his before he can finish.
“Turn around for me, baby.”
He exhales, slow and sharp as his palms find your hips, guiding you up on your knees, turning you gently, his hands wrapping around your waist to untie the satin robe, kissing between your shoulder blades when it falls to the bed below.
His eyes catch on the satin belt looped loose in the silk between you and he goes still for a second before slowly pulling it free through the loops, the fabric sliding through his fingers.
He leans forward, mouth brushing the shell of your ear as his hands find your wrists, pinning them behind your back. “Can I use this?” He asks quietly, almost nervous again all of a sudden.
Your pulse jumps when you nod.
Rafe exhales hard through his nose before gently guiding your wrists together, tying the satin slowly like he’s scared you’ll change your mind if he doesn't do it just right, fixing it in a bow.
His breath shakes behind you; heat radiating off of his chest as he looks over your shoulder. “You’re really lettin’ me tie you up?” He whispers against your skin, soft just for you as his arms wrap around your body, hands cupping your breasts before he kisses you. “You trust me that much?”
“I trust you,” you whisper.
“Holy shit,” he sighs shakily against your throat. “Never done anything like this before. You good, baby?”
His body pulls away just enough to take himself in his hand when you nod, his fist curling around the thick base of his cock as he exhales. His other hand squeezes your hip, guiding your back to arch, your cheek pressing into the plush mattress.
“Shit, baby,” Rafe praises as your hips push back without thinking, his thick tip shoving between your plush thigh, bullying through your slick folds already. “Fuck, you’re wet,” he grits, holding himself back from throwing his hips forward and burying himself deep.
Your eyes flutter shut, focusing on the feeling; each ridge, each pulse; the pressure between your thighs as he stretches you wide, filling you full.
You glance over your shoulder—watching him for a breathless moment. His hair’s fallen forward, strands sticking to his damp forehead, chest heaving, gold chain clinging to his skin. His lips are parted, wet from kissing, his baby blues fixed on the place where your bodies meet.
His brows draw together when the wet sounds of your pussy fill the room, his body reacting like the sound alone might end him right then and there. His eyes lift to yours and his lips twitch, curling into a smirk.
You gasp, breath punching out of your chest as he drives deep. Your hands curl into fists, the bow pulling taut around your wrists.
Rafe tightens his grip on your hips and starts to move faster—each thrust sharper and deeper than the last, the sounds of his body against yours filling the bedroom.
His hand stays firm around the satin binding your wrists. The second he feels you start to tremble, he leans in—his chest against your back, breath hot against your ear. The bow pulls tighter in his grip as he drives you deeper into the mattress.
Your body’s humming, vision feathered around the edges. Rafe wraps his arm around you, pulling you back into his chest as he drills up into you, voice low and broken against your ear.
“Tell me I’m your favorite,” he breathes, lips grazing your skin. Your head lolls back, lashes fluttering.
“Wha—What?” The word hiccups out between rough thrusts, your body jolting with every rough thrust of his hips. He chuckles, kissing your neck as he buries himself in it.
“Tell me… I’m your favorite,” he whispers as his hand guides your chin to his, his lips finding yours as his other hand drops low, fingers pressing against your clit, making your knees all but give out.
He circles his fingers instead as his lips brush against your skin, smiling against your mouth.
You’re right there, your hips tilt toward his hand, body jolting with each swirl of his fingers.
“You… Fuck,” you whimper, and he groans, deep and broken, driving into you with a guttural moan at your neck. His thrusts never slow, even as your body begins to shatter. “You’re my favorite.”
“Show me.” Your orgasm crashes over you; his name tumbles from your lips in a breathy, needy gasp. You grind through it, slow and messy, his release dripping warm between your thighs. “Oh, fuck,” he breathes, forehead pressed to your temple, his voice ragged and wincing a little from the sensitivity.
One hand steadies you as he unties the satin belt from around your wrists with the other, his free hand moving between your thighs to catch the wetness sliding down.
His fingers slip into your mouth and you take them, sucking the wet as your eyes lift to meet his, melting back into him.
His fingers slip from your mouth slowly, eyes locked on yours the entire time. The sheets are tangled beneath you. The air thick and warm with sex.
Rafe stays pressed against your back, chest rising hard against your skin while his hand spreads low across your stomach possessively, keeping you exactly where he wants you.
“Told you I could handle you,” he murmurs before kissing you again.
You smile into his mouth, still trying to catch your breath. “You can.”
He groans softly at that, eyes shutting for a second as his hips roll once more, cock still deep and sensitive inside you.
“Damn,” he whispers roughly. “How am I supposed to stop when you sound this fucking good, huh?”
His hand slides carefully up your throat, thumb resting beneath your jaw while he keeps your face tilted toward his.
“Rafe.”
“Yeah, baby?” He murmurs.
“You can’t get jealous like that again.”
His hands tighten around your waist instinctively, like he already knows where this conversation’s going and hates it anyway. “I know,” he says quietly as your fingers drift through the damp hair at the nape of his neck.
“What happens in here is fine,” you whisper. “But if you mess this up outside this room… we’re done.” The words land hard enough to wipe the smug look right off his face. “I mean it.”
Rafe goes quiet for a second, eyes fixed on yours while his hand drifts slowly along your waist. “Okay,” he murmurs. “Okay, baby.”
“I haven't done this type of thing with anyone.” Your fingers slide into his damp hair. “He just works for me,” you whisper softly. “That’s it.”
“Only me?” He asks immediately, like the question’s been sitting in his chest this entire time.
“Only you.”
His eyes shut briefly at that, forehead dropping against yours.
“Tell me I can trust you,” you whisper.
“You can,” he says instantly. “Promise.”
Your lips brush his while his arm tightens around your waist, keeping you tucked against him. “Then let it go,” you murmur. “No more jealousy. No more losing your shit over Bauer.”
Rafe laughs quietly under his breath. “Can’t promise I won’t think about beatin’ his ass at least once,” he mumbles.
You laugh softly and he kisses you again, slower this time, still breathing hard into your mouth.
“But I’ll behave,” he whispers against your mouth. “For you.”
“Thank you.”
His gaze drags over your face for a long second before his hand slides possessively down your stomach again.
“Besides,” he murmurs softly, eyes locked on yours, “doesn’t really matter now anyway.”
“Why?” You ask as he kisses you absentmindedly, his thumb tracing the inside of your wrist where the satin had been tied.
The corner of his mouth tilts. “Because he never had you,” he says quietly. “And I do.”
👔💼 tag list on my pinned post (new as of 5/12/2026) 🧸 @rafesthroatbaby @vanillaiceyhot @slut-4-rafey @cokewithcameron @kingalanah @ornellastreet @cdiaz18 @esmerai-artemis @raf3cam3r0n @georgiastars13 @bucksbvck @kineticblazesiren @rafesbunnygirl @afterhoursangell @angelicameron @st8rkey @lilithblackkk @premiumshitt @obsessedwrafe @taliescapes @americanboz0 @heathandrewstarkey @rafesbuzzcutseason @12kissme12 @hockeygirlyyyy @vintagereadz @karlydiary @outersbanksgirly @ssugartalkin @bonjourjiminie @tangledinmyfeelings @harrrrystyleslut @solaceluna @binx9911 @phoebesatoru
are you in enemy territory? lol. we’re rooting for the habs in this household
😂😂 I got hit with a 51st state joke upon entry by 2 guys I match aho jerseys but other than that it's been fine lol
girl the habs are on fire rn!!!
Oh bby!!!!!!!! I'm making no friends at the bar I'm at lmaoo 😂👏
The Assistant… 𝓭𝓻𝓮𝓼𝓼𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓱𝓲𝓶 𝓾𝓹
son’s bsf frat!rafe x sugar milf!reader
c/w: age gap, possessive!rafe, jealous!rafe, oral sex (fem. receiving), power imbalance, praise, soft bondage, unprotected p in v, w.a.m. + language
3.4K words
“…What’s this?”
You shrug, sipping your champagne.
“Your office wardrobe.”
His head turns immediately. “My what?”
“You’re my assistant now,” you remind him simply. “You have to look the part.”
Rafe laughs under his breath. “Baby,” he says slowly, walking toward the rack of clothes. “What the fuck?” He reaches for one of the charcoal jackets, pulling it out to look it over. “You bought all this for me?”
“You needed it,” you hum against the rim of your glass.
“Well, thank you. But, baby, I own clothes,” he says, hands moving through the hangers while the tags swing beneath them. “Unbelievable.”
“What?”
“Nothin’, baby,” he hums, fighting a smile as he pulls one of the black dress shirts free, holding it against his bare chest before glancing at you. “You picked this out?”
“Mhmm…”
“For me specifically?” He points to himself, adjusting the waistband of his new slacks.
You roll your eyes, finishing the rest of your champagne.
“Damn, you are so into me,” he teases.
His watch glints in the low bedroom lighting as he stuffs his hands into his pockets, turning slightly to check the fit of the pants.
“You saw this and thought about me wearin’ it?” He asks.
“Rafe—”
“M’serious,” he laughs. “That’s fuckin’ crazy.”
He looks back at the rack again, shaking his head once like he still can’t believe it, chains glinting against tanned skin, the sharp lines of his hips disappearing beneath the dark pants.
His hair’s already messy, falling into his eyes before his ringed hand pushes it back. His eyes catch yours and you look away instantly.
“No, no,” he murmurs, catching it immediately. “Keep lookin’ at me like that.”
“You like it?” You ask.
“Love it,” he counters, tongue pressing against the inside of his cheek. “I’m gonna look good standing next to you.”
“You look very pretty, Rafe.”
“Fuck,” he cuts in immediately, blush running across his cheeks as he drops his head for a second. “You can’t say shit like that.”
“Why not?”
“‘Cause—” He drags a hand over his mouth, laughing again before looking back at you. “I’m a fuckin’ whore for attention, that’s why. Ego’s through the goddamn roof after last night. You need to reign it in.”
“You want me to reign it in?” You chuckle because you know that’s not true.
He scoffs, already shaking his head. “Absolutely not… You said we were casual. This doesn’t feel casual, sweetheart.”
Before you can answer, he reaches for the black dress shirt again, sliding one arm into it, then the other, buttoning it slowly while watching you.
“…You don’t mean it,” he murmurs.
Your eyes catch on the rings, the heavy watch at his wrist, the chains resting beneath the open collar while he adjusts the cuffs.
“Mean what?”
“You don’t wanna see me with anyone else,” he says quietly. “Givin’ somebody else my time. Sleepin’ with somebody else.”
“Can’t watch you leave with someone else like you did,” he mutters, jaw tightening. “I know you were tryin’ to teach me a lesson, but damn.” He shakes his head once. “That fucked me up.”
“You weren’t gonna sleep with him, were you?” Rafe asks.
Your breath catches, but you laugh anyway, trying to play it off.
“Everything you wanted to happen happened, huh?” He says, rolling his sleeves up slowly. “Just get everything you want, don’t you, baby?”
You smile faintly, pouring yourself another glass before lifting it toward him in a lazy little toast.
Rafe exhales through his nose, grinning to himself.
“Goddamn,” he mutters. “You’re gonna make me obsessed with you.”
You cross one leg over the other, silk robe sliding higher along your thigh, drawing his eyes to you.
“You’re too good to me,” he hums, turning on his heel like he needs a second to recover.
“When you’re good to me,” you say sweetly, “I’m good to you.”
He closes the distance until he’s towering over you, fit body wrapped in Prada.
“Damn,” he murmurs. “Sex was that good?”
A smile plays on his lips as he reaches down, taking your hand in his and guiding you to your feet. His arms wrap around you instantly, one resting against your back, the other gripping your ass through the satin in his big palm.
He dips down, pressing his mouth against yours, smiling into the kiss before his tongue slides along yours, leaving your head hazy with it.
“Or,” he murmurs against your lips, “was it when I broke in… again?”
Heat rushes into your cheeks.
Your fingers smooth slowly up the front of his shirt, feeling the expensive fabric stretched over hard muscle beneath it before sliding around his neck, laughing softly against his mouth.
“I could wake you up like that every morning if you let me,” he mumbles. “And you thought I couldn’t take care of you?” His grin turns smug against your lips. “Had you cryin’ for me at eight in the morning.”
Your heart starts racing all over again.
Not because of what you did.
Because of the thought of him doing it for somebody else.
“You’re right,” you whisper.
“I’m what?” He laughs, like the words sound completely foreign coming out of your mouth.
“I don’t mean it,” you admit quietly.
His shoulders loosen immediately, tension leaving him all at once. His tongue drags along his bottom lip, broad chest square with yours, looking down at you like he could finally relax.
“Say it again,” he mumbles as his hand comes up to cradle your neck, kissing you deeply before drawing back just enough where your lips brush.
“You don’t sleep with anyone else,” you mumble.
“Neither do you,” he echoes softly.
“Deal,” you whisper.
“How the fuck am I supposed to get this past the guys? All this nice shit,” he mutters. “Seriously,” he says. “The watch? The shoes? The suits. They're dumb, but they’re not that dumb. They’re gonna know I got this from someone.”
Your nails glide slowly through the hair at the nape of his neck. “You could tell him the truth.”
Rafe laughs against your mouth, breathless and dreamy, his hands wrapping around the back of your thighs, lifting you off your feet and into his strong arms.
“Hey, Tommy… I’m fuckin’ your mom.”
“Of course not—”
“Well, then what the fuck am I gonna do?” He asks, tossing you down on your big, soft bed. Your silk robe falling open, nothing but black lace underneath.
“Just tell him a different name,” you murmur, fingers playing lightly with the hair at the nape of his neck. “Someone he doesn’t know. Tell him it’s casual. She’s private.”
“Lyin’ about some random woman when I got you?” He asks as he grabs for his belt, tugging it open, his eyes tracing higher and higher, lifting until they reach yours. “Dressin’ me up. Spoilin’ me. I’m your assistant—”
“You are,” you smile, as he lowers the zipper on his slacks.
“You think they’re not gonna think it’s weird? Me bein’ there?”
His pants hit the floor with a heavy thud before he climbs on the mattress, his arms hooking under your thighs, kissing your knee, working lower.
“That you picked me specifically.”
“I did—I hired a few of your frat brothers. Tommy’s my assistant over at the country club. Kelce handles the restaurant property down by the water.” Your hand reaches out, raking into his bangs. “You’ve got the hotel… I still have Bauer.”
The second the name leaves your lips, something in him tightens.
You feel it immediately in the way his hands stop moving, eyes narrow slightly on yours, the grip on you getting a little tighter.
“Bauer?” He repeats, leaning back just enough to look at you properly. “How come I never heard about Bauer?”
“Why would my son’s frat brother just hear about the executive assistant at my work?” You chuckle uneasily.
“Bauer… St. James?” He asks slowly. “So he works around you all day?”
“Rafe—”
“He hot.”
You blink back at him, waiting for the rest of his statement.
“That’s not a no,” the words break past his lips, half-kidding, half-furious, not wanting to seem insecure but he is. Your eyes roll, laughing it off.
“Rafe.” His name comes out firmer this time, grounding him instantly.
He stares at you for half a second before scoffing and looking away, trying to collect himself.
Bauer St. James was the kind of guy frat houses built folklore around. A few years older than Rafe, still talked about at parties and golf tournaments like some frat legend. Smart. Polished. Impossible to dislike.
The kind of guy who could black out at a party, still show up to an eight a.m. presentation looking like a Ralph Lauren campaign, then ace the exam anyway.
“You hired him?” Rafe asks again, dropping his forehead against your knee now like the answer physically pains him.
“He’s good at his job,” you say calmly.
“… He better be,” he mutters bitterly.
“He’s been with me for years.”
His jaw clicks. “Years?” He repeats.
You laugh softly, but he isn’t really joking anymore because Bauer makes sense beside you. That’s the problem. Meanwhile Rafe rolled a beer cart into the water three weeks ago.
“He anticipates things before I ask,” you explain softly. “Scheduling, travel, meetings.” Your fingers drift through his hair slowly. “He basically runs my life—”
“Oh, yeah?” Rafe mutters sarcastically against your knee. “Sounds like a fucking nightmare for me.”
He stews for a minute, his expression softening before he looks up at you, with his sad blue, puppy dog eyes and you can’t help but laugh at how pitifully dramatic and jealous he is.
“I thought… I dunno. Thought that I’d do that for you.”
You lift an eyebrow, begging the silent question. How?
“Thought I had that position locked down.”
“You are objectively terrible at your job, baby,” you say gently.
“Yeah,” he admits, nodding in agreement. “That’s fair. And, he’s not—“
“He’s not.”
“Damn… I hate that for me,” he chuckles as his hand drifts down your leg, thumb brushing along the seam of your panties. You two ever… I mean. Has he—”
“No,” you stop him before he can spin out anymore. “Nothing—You don’t need to be jealous of Bauer.”
“Easier said than fuckin’ done,” he chuckles, turning his head just enough to kiss a little lower along your thigh. “Well,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss over the lace, “that sucks for him.”
Your brows lift slightly, feeling a tingle go straight through your body when he licks a line up your clothed slit. “Why?”
Rafe’s gaze drags slowly over your face before he smiles faintly. “Because eventually,” he says quietly, “you’re gonna look at me like that too.”
“I am?” You ask and he hums out a yes, the utterance vibrating against your pussy.
“I didn’t care about the golf course,” he continues, entirely too pleased with himself. “Got way more attention from you, acting like a complete piece of shit. It was strategic.”
You laugh despite yourself, cheeks burning with your smile.
“Sue me.”
His grin widens as his rough thumb pulls your panties to the side.
“I love a little competition,” he mumbles. “St. James might know your schedule.” His breath fans over your skin, lips dropping low. “But I know how you look at me.”
You bite your lip and smile, giving him that same look—watching as his tongue lays out, dragging slowly up your pussy, making your back arch.
“You know what he definitely doesn’t have?” He asks smugly, his rough fingers coming up to trace your entrance slowly. “Your taste on his lips… twice, in one fucking day,” he mutters as his hands wrap around the fabric at your hips pulling it down in one desperate tug.
His arms tighten around your thighs, pulling you to his face, burying himself in your pussy. “Fuck me,” he mutters, the words sending vibrations straight through your core. “Been thinking about this all day. Couldn’t stop.”
You gasp, fingers threading into his hair, tugging hard enough to make him moan against your clit—his fingers pushing deeper.
Your sounds echo softly through your bedroom as his fingers fuck into your soaked core, curling just right, again and again, until— “Right there, Rafe,” you breathe, hips rocking into his mouth. “Please.”
Your orgasm hits like a wave—hard and fast—his name tumbling from your lips, breathless and broken, as he hums against you, getting off on every flutter of your pussy around his thick fingers.
“That’s it baby,” he breathes, kissing you slow and deep between your thighs, then dragging his lips up your body until he’s chest to chest with you. “How was that—”
“Perfect,” you whisper, your mouth finding his before he can finish.
“Turn around for me, baby.”
He exhales, slow and sharp as his palms find your hips, guiding you up on your knees, turning you gently, his hands wrapping around your waist to untie the satin robe, kissing between your shoulder blades when it falls to the bed below.
His eyes catch on the satin belt looped loose in the silk between you and he goes still for a second before slowly pulling it free through the loops, the fabric sliding through his fingers.
He leans forward, mouth brushing the shell of your ear as his hands find your wrists, pinning them behind your back. “Can I use this?” He asks quietly, almost nervous again all of a sudden.
Your pulse jumps when you nod.
Rafe exhales hard through his nose before gently guiding your wrists together, tying the satin slowly like he’s scared you’ll change your mind if he doesn't do it just right, fixing it in a bow.
His breath shakes behind you; heat radiating off of his chest as he looks over your shoulder. “You’re really lettin’ me tie you up?” He whispers against your skin, soft just for you as his arms wrap around your body, hands cupping your breasts before he kisses you. “You trust me that much?”
“I trust you,” you whisper.
“Holy shit,” he sighs shakily against your throat. “Never done anything like this before. You good, baby?”
His body pulls away just enough to take himself in his hand when you nod, his fist curling around the thick base of his cock as he exhales. His other hand squeezes your hip, guiding your back to arch, your cheek pressing into the plush mattress.
“Shit, baby,” Rafe praises as your hips push back without thinking, his thick tip shoving between your plush thigh, bullying through your slick folds already. “Fuck, you’re wet,” he grits, holding himself back from throwing his hips forward and burying himself deep.
Your eyes flutter shut, focusing on the feeling; each ridge, each pulse; the pressure between your thighs as he stretches you wide, filling you full.
You glance over your shoulder—watching him for a breathless moment. His hair’s fallen forward, strands sticking to his damp forehead, chest heaving, gold chain clinging to his skin. His lips are parted, wet from kissing, his baby blues fixed on the place where your bodies meet.
His brows draw together when the wet sounds of your pussy fill the room, his body reacting like the sound alone might end him right then and there. His eyes lift to yours and his lips twitch, curling into a smirk.
You gasp, breath punching out of your chest as he drives deep. Your hands curl into fists, the bow pulling taut around your wrists.
Rafe tightens his grip on your hips and starts to move faster—each thrust sharper and deeper than the last, the sounds of his body against yours filling the bedroom.
His hand stays firm around the satin binding your wrists. The second he feels you start to tremble, he leans in—his chest against your back, breath hot against your ear. The bow pulls tighter in his grip as he drives you deeper into the mattress.
Your body’s humming, vision feathered around the edges. Rafe wraps his arm around you, pulling you back into his chest as he drills up into you, voice low and broken against your ear.
“Tell me I’m your favorite,” he breathes, lips grazing your skin. Your head lolls back, lashes fluttering.
“Wha—What?” The word hiccups out between rough thrusts, your body jolting with every rough thrust of his hips. He chuckles, kissing your neck as he buries himself in it.
“Tell me… I’m your favorite,” he whispers as his hand guides your chin to his, his lips finding yours as his other hand drops low, fingers pressing against your clit, making your knees all but give out.
He circles his fingers instead as his lips brush against your skin, smiling against your mouth.
You’re right there, your hips tilt toward his hand, body jolting with each swirl of his fingers.
“You… Fuck,” you whimper, and he groans, deep and broken, driving into you with a guttural moan at your neck. His thrusts never slow, even as your body begins to shatter. “You’re my favorite.”
“Show me.” Your orgasm crashes over you; his name tumbles from your lips in a breathy, needy gasp. You grind through it, slow and messy, his release dripping warm between your thighs. “Oh, fuck,” he breathes, forehead pressed to your temple, his voice ragged and wincing a little from the sensitivity.
One hand steadies you as he unties the satin belt from around your wrists with the other, his free hand moving between your thighs to catch the wetness sliding down.
His fingers slip into your mouth and you take them, sucking the wet as your eyes lift to meet his, melting back into him.
His fingers slip from your mouth slowly, eyes locked on yours the entire time. The sheets are tangled beneath you. The air thick and warm with sex.
Rafe stays pressed against your back, chest rising hard against your skin while his hand spreads low across your stomach possessively, keeping you exactly where he wants you.
“Told you I could handle you,” he murmurs before kissing you again.
You smile into his mouth, still trying to catch your breath. “You can.”
He groans softly at that, eyes shutting for a second as his hips roll once more, cock still deep and sensitive inside you.
“Damn,” he whispers roughly. “How am I supposed to stop when you sound this fucking good, huh?”
His hand slides carefully up your throat, thumb resting beneath your jaw while he keeps your face tilted toward his.
“Rafe.”
“Yeah, baby?” He murmurs.
“You can’t get jealous like that again.”
His hands tighten around your waist instinctively, like he already knows where this conversation’s going and hates it anyway. “I know,” he says quietly as your fingers drift through the damp hair at the nape of his neck.
“What happens in here is fine,” you whisper. “But if you mess this up outside this room… we’re done.” The words land hard enough to wipe the smug look right off his face. “I mean it.”
Rafe goes quiet for a second, eyes fixed on yours while his hand drifts slowly along your waist. “Okay,” he murmurs. “Okay, baby.”
“I haven't done this type of thing with anyone.” Your fingers slide into his damp hair. “He just works for me,” you whisper softly. “That’s it.”
“Only me?” He asks immediately, like the question’s been sitting in his chest this entire time.
“Only you.”
His eyes shut briefly at that, forehead dropping against yours.
“Tell me I can trust you,” you whisper.
“You can,” he says instantly. “Promise.”
Your lips brush his while his arm tightens around your waist, keeping you tucked against him. “Then let it go,” you murmur. “No more jealousy. No more losing your shit over Bauer.”
Rafe laughs quietly under his breath. “Can’t promise I won’t think about beatin’ his ass at least once,” he mumbles.
You laugh softly and he kisses you again, slower this time, still breathing hard into your mouth.
“But I’ll behave,” he whispers against your mouth. “For you.”
“Thank you.”
His gaze drags over your face for a long second before his hand slides possessively down your stomach again.
“Besides,” he murmurs softly, eyes locked on yours, “doesn’t really matter now anyway.”
“Why?” You ask as he kisses you absentmindedly, his thumb tracing the inside of your wrist where the satin had been tied.
The corner of his mouth tilts. “Because he never had you,” he says quietly. “And I do.”
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The Assistant… 𝓭𝓻𝓮𝓼𝓼𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓱𝓲𝓶 𝓾𝓹
son’s bsf frat!rafe x sugar milf!reader
c/w: age gap, possessive!rafe, jealous!rafe, oral sex (fem. receiving), power imbalance, praise, soft bondage, unprotected p in v, w.a.m. + language
3.4K words
“…What’s this?”
You shrug, sipping your champagne.
“Your office wardrobe.”
His head turns immediately. “My what?”
“You’re my assistant now,” you remind him simply. “You have to look the part.”
Rafe laughs under his breath. “Baby,” he says slowly, walking toward the rack of clothes. “What the fuck?” He reaches for one of the charcoal jackets, pulling it out to look it over. “You bought all this for me?”
“You needed it,” you hum against the rim of your glass.
“Well, thank you. But, baby, I own clothes,” he says, hands moving through the hangers while the tags swing beneath them. “Unbelievable.”
“What?”
“Nothin’, baby,” he hums, fighting a smile as he pulls one of the black dress shirts free, holding it against his bare chest before glancing at you. “You picked this out?”
“Mhmm…”
“For me specifically?” He points to himself, adjusting the waistband of his new slacks.
You roll your eyes, finishing the rest of your champagne.
“Damn, you are so into me,” he teases.
His watch glints in the low bedroom lighting as he stuffs his hands into his pockets, turning slightly to check the fit of the pants.
“You saw this and thought about me wearin’ it?” He asks.
“Rafe—”
“M’serious,” he laughs. “That’s fuckin’ crazy.”
He looks back at the rack again, shaking his head once like he still can’t believe it, chains glinting against tanned skin, the sharp lines of his hips disappearing beneath the dark pants.
His hair’s already messy, falling into his eyes before his ringed hand pushes it back. His eyes catch yours and you look away instantly.
“No, no,” he murmurs, catching it immediately. “Keep lookin’ at me like that.”
“You like it?” You ask.
“Love it,” he counters, tongue pressing against the inside of his cheek. “I’m gonna look good standing next to you.”
“You look very pretty, Rafe.”
“Fuck,” he cuts in immediately, blush running across his cheeks as he drops his head for a second. “You can’t say shit like that.”
“Why not?”
“‘Cause—” He drags a hand over his mouth, laughing again before looking back at you. “I’m a fuckin’ whore for attention, that’s why. Ego’s through the goddamn roof after last night. You need to reign it in.”
“You want me to reign it in?” You chuckle because you know that’s not true.
He scoffs, already shaking his head. “Absolutely not… You said we were casual. This doesn’t feel casual, sweetheart.”
Before you can answer, he reaches for the black dress shirt again, sliding one arm into it, then the other, buttoning it slowly while watching you.
“…You don’t mean it,” he murmurs.
Your eyes catch on the rings, the heavy watch at his wrist, the chains resting beneath the open collar while he adjusts the cuffs.
“Mean what?”
“You don’t wanna see me with anyone else,” he says quietly. “Givin’ somebody else my time. Sleepin’ with somebody else.”
“Can’t watch you leave with someone else like you did,” he mutters, jaw tightening. “I know you were tryin’ to teach me a lesson, but damn.” He shakes his head once. “That fucked me up.”
“You weren’t gonna sleep with him, were you?” Rafe asks.
Your breath catches, but you laugh anyway, trying to play it off.
“Everything you wanted to happen happened, huh?” He says, rolling his sleeves up slowly. “Just get everything you want, don’t you, baby?”
You smile faintly, pouring yourself another glass before lifting it toward him in a lazy little toast.
Rafe exhales through his nose, grinning to himself.
“Goddamn,” he mutters. “You’re gonna make me obsessed with you.”
You cross one leg over the other, silk robe sliding higher along your thigh, drawing his eyes to you.
“You’re too good to me,” he hums, turning on his heel like he needs a second to recover.
“When you’re good to me,” you say sweetly, “I’m good to you.”
He closes the distance until he’s towering over you, fit body wrapped in Prada.
“Damn,” he murmurs. “Sex was that good?”
A smile plays on his lips as he reaches down, taking your hand in his and guiding you to your feet. His arms wrap around you instantly, one resting against your back, the other gripping your ass through the satin in his big palm.
He dips down, pressing his mouth against yours, smiling into the kiss before his tongue slides along yours, leaving your head hazy with it.
“Or,” he murmurs against your lips, “was it when I broke in… again?”
Heat rushes into your cheeks.
Your fingers smooth slowly up the front of his shirt, feeling the expensive fabric stretched over hard muscle beneath it before sliding around his neck, laughing softly against his mouth.
“I could wake you up like that every morning if you let me,” he mumbles. “And you thought I couldn’t take care of you?” His grin turns smug against your lips. “Had you cryin’ for me at eight in the morning.”
Your heart starts racing all over again.
Not because of what you did.
Because of the thought of him doing it for somebody else.
“You’re right,” you whisper.
“I’m what?” He laughs, like the words sound completely foreign coming out of your mouth.
“I don’t mean it,” you admit quietly.
His shoulders loosen immediately, tension leaving him all at once. His tongue drags along his bottom lip, broad chest square with yours, looking down at you like he could finally relax.
“Say it again,” he mumbles as his hand comes up to cradle your neck, kissing you deeply before drawing back just enough where your lips brush.
“You don’t sleep with anyone else,” you mumble.
“Neither do you,” he echoes softly.
“Deal,” you whisper.
“How the fuck am I supposed to get this past the guys? All this nice shit,” he mutters. “Seriously,” he says. “The watch? The shoes? The suits. They're dumb, but they’re not that dumb. They’re gonna know I got this from someone.”
Your nails glide slowly through the hair at the nape of his neck. “You could tell him the truth.”
Rafe laughs against your mouth, breathless and dreamy, his hands wrapping around the back of your thighs, lifting you off your feet and into his strong arms.
“Hey, Tommy… I’m fuckin’ your mom.”
“Of course not—”
“Well, then what the fuck am I gonna do?” He asks, tossing you down on your big, soft bed. Your silk robe falling open, nothing but black lace underneath.
“Just tell him a different name,” you murmur, fingers playing lightly with the hair at the nape of his neck. “Someone he doesn’t know. Tell him it’s casual. She’s private.”
“Lyin’ about some random woman when I got you?” He asks as he grabs for his belt, tugging it open, his eyes tracing higher and higher, lifting until they reach yours. “Dressin’ me up. Spoilin’ me. I’m your assistant—”
“You are,” you smile, as he lowers the zipper on his slacks.
“You think they’re not gonna think it’s weird? Me bein’ there?”
His pants hit the floor with a heavy thud before he climbs on the mattress, his arms hooking under your thighs, kissing your knee, working lower.
“That you picked me specifically.”
“I did—I hired a few of your frat brothers. Tommy’s my assistant over at the country club. Kelce handles the restaurant property down by the water.” Your hand reaches out, raking into his bangs. “You’ve got the hotel… I still have Bauer.”
The second the name leaves your lips, something in him tightens.
You feel it immediately in the way his hands stop moving, eyes narrow slightly on yours, the grip on you getting a little tighter.
“Bauer?” He repeats, leaning back just enough to look at you properly. “How come I never heard about Bauer?”
“Why would my son’s frat brother just hear about the executive assistant at my work?” You chuckle uneasily.
“Bauer… St. James?” He asks slowly. “So he works around you all day?”
“Rafe—”
“He hot.”
You blink back at him, waiting for the rest of his statement.
“That’s not a no,” the words break past his lips, half-kidding, half-furious, not wanting to seem insecure but he is. Your eyes roll, laughing it off.
“Rafe.” His name comes out firmer this time, grounding him instantly.
He stares at you for half a second before scoffing and looking away, trying to collect himself.
Bauer St. James was the kind of guy frat houses built folklore around. A few years older than Rafe, still talked about at parties and golf tournaments like some frat legend. Smart. Polished. Impossible to dislike.
The kind of guy who could black out at a party, still show up to an eight a.m. presentation looking like a Ralph Lauren campaign, then ace the exam anyway.
“You hired him?” Rafe asks again, dropping his forehead against your knee now like the answer physically pains him.
“He’s good at his job,” you say calmly.
“… He better be,” he mutters bitterly.
“He’s been with me for years.”
His jaw clicks. “Years?” He repeats.
You laugh softly, but he isn’t really joking anymore because Bauer makes sense beside you. That’s the problem. Meanwhile Rafe rolled a beer cart into the water three weeks ago.
“He anticipates things before I ask,” you explain softly. “Scheduling, travel, meetings.” Your fingers drift through his hair slowly. “He basically runs my life—”
“Oh, yeah?” Rafe mutters sarcastically against your knee. “Sounds like a fucking nightmare for me.”
He stews for a minute, his expression softening before he looks up at you, with his sad blue, puppy dog eyes and you can’t help but laugh at how pitifully dramatic and jealous he is.
“I thought… I dunno. Thought that I’d do that for you.”
You lift an eyebrow, begging the silent question. How?
“Thought I had that position locked down.”
“You are objectively terrible at your job, baby,” you say gently.
“Yeah,” he admits, nodding in agreement. “That’s fair. And, he’s not—“
“He’s not.”
“Damn… I hate that for me,” he chuckles as his hand drifts down your leg, thumb brushing along the seam of your panties. You two ever… I mean. Has he—”
“No,” you stop him before he can spin out anymore. “Nothing—You don’t need to be jealous of Bauer.”
“Easier said than fuckin’ done,” he chuckles, turning his head just enough to kiss a little lower along your thigh. “Well,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss over the lace, “that sucks for him.”
Your brows lift slightly, feeling a tingle go straight through your body when he licks a line up your clothed slit. “Why?”
Rafe’s gaze drags slowly over your face before he smiles faintly. “Because eventually,” he says quietly, “you’re gonna look at me like that too.”
“I am?” You ask and he hums out a yes, the utterance vibrating against your pussy.
“I didn’t care about the golf course,” he continues, entirely too pleased with himself. “Got way more attention from you, acting like a complete piece of shit. It was strategic.”
You laugh despite yourself, cheeks burning with your smile.
“Sue me.”
His grin widens as his rough thumb pulls your panties to the side.
“I love a little competition,” he mumbles. “St. James might know your schedule.” His breath fans over your skin, lips dropping low. “But I know how you look at me.”
You bite your lip and smile, giving him that same look—watching as his tongue lays out, dragging slowly up your pussy, making your back arch.
“You know what he definitely doesn’t have?” He asks smugly, his rough fingers coming up to trace your entrance slowly. “Your taste on his lips… twice, in one fucking day,” he mutters as his hands wrap around the fabric at your hips pulling it down in one desperate tug.
His arms tighten around your thighs, pulling you to his face, burying himself in your pussy. “Fuck me,” he mutters, the words sending vibrations straight through your core. “Been thinking about this all day. Couldn’t stop.”
You gasp, fingers threading into his hair, tugging hard enough to make him moan against your clit—his fingers pushing deeper.
Your sounds echo softly through your bedroom as his fingers fuck into your soaked core, curling just right, again and again, until— “Right there, Rafe,” you breathe, hips rocking into his mouth. “Please.”
Your orgasm hits like a wave—hard and fast—his name tumbling from your lips, breathless and broken, as he hums against you, getting off on every flutter of your pussy around his thick fingers.
“That’s it baby,” he breathes, kissing you slow and deep between your thighs, then dragging his lips up your body until he’s chest to chest with you. “How was that—”
“Perfect,” you whisper, your mouth finding his before he can finish.
“Turn around for me, baby.”
He exhales, slow and sharp as his palms find your hips, guiding you up on your knees, turning you gently, his hands wrapping around your waist to untie the satin robe, kissing between your shoulder blades when it falls to the bed below.
His eyes catch on the satin belt looped loose in the silk between you and he goes still for a second before slowly pulling it free through the loops, the fabric sliding through his fingers.
He leans forward, mouth brushing the shell of your ear as his hands find your wrists, pinning them behind your back. “Can I use this?” He asks quietly, almost nervous again all of a sudden.
Your pulse jumps when you nod.
Rafe exhales hard through his nose before gently guiding your wrists together, tying the satin slowly like he’s scared you’ll change your mind if he doesn't do it just right, fixing it in a bow.
His breath shakes behind you; heat radiating off of his chest as he looks over your shoulder. “You’re really lettin’ me tie you up?” He whispers against your skin, soft just for you as his arms wrap around your body, hands cupping your breasts before he kisses you. “You trust me that much?”
“I trust you,” you whisper.
“Holy shit,” he sighs shakily against your throat. “Never done anything like this before. You good, baby?”
His body pulls away just enough to take himself in his hand when you nod, his fist curling around the thick base of his cock as he exhales. His other hand squeezes your hip, guiding your back to arch, your cheek pressing into the plush mattress.
“Shit, baby,” Rafe praises as your hips push back without thinking, his thick tip shoving between your plush thigh, bullying through your slick folds already. “Fuck, you’re wet,” he grits, holding himself back from throwing his hips forward and burying himself deep.
Your eyes flutter shut, focusing on the feeling; each ridge, each pulse; the pressure between your thighs as he stretches you wide, filling you full.
You glance over your shoulder—watching him for a breathless moment. His hair’s fallen forward, strands sticking to his damp forehead, chest heaving, gold chain clinging to his skin. His lips are parted, wet from kissing, his baby blues fixed on the place where your bodies meet.
His brows draw together when the wet sounds of your pussy fill the room, his body reacting like the sound alone might end him right then and there. His eyes lift to yours and his lips twitch, curling into a smirk.
You gasp, breath punching out of your chest as he drives deep. Your hands curl into fists, the bow pulling taut around your wrists.
Rafe tightens his grip on your hips and starts to move faster—each thrust sharper and deeper than the last, the sounds of his body against yours filling the bedroom.
His hand stays firm around the satin binding your wrists. The second he feels you start to tremble, he leans in—his chest against your back, breath hot against your ear. The bow pulls tighter in his grip as he drives you deeper into the mattress.
Your body’s humming, vision feathered around the edges. Rafe wraps his arm around you, pulling you back into his chest as he drills up into you, voice low and broken against your ear.
“Tell me I’m your favorite,” he breathes, lips grazing your skin. Your head lolls back, lashes fluttering.
“Wha—What?” The word hiccups out between rough thrusts, your body jolting with every rough thrust of his hips. He chuckles, kissing your neck as he buries himself in it.
“Tell me… I’m your favorite,” he whispers as his hand guides your chin to his, his lips finding yours as his other hand drops low, fingers pressing against your clit, making your knees all but give out.
He circles his fingers instead as his lips brush against your skin, smiling against your mouth.
You’re right there, your hips tilt toward his hand, body jolting with each swirl of his fingers.
“You… Fuck,” you whimper, and he groans, deep and broken, driving into you with a guttural moan at your neck. His thrusts never slow, even as your body begins to shatter. “You’re my favorite.”
“Show me.” Your orgasm crashes over you; his name tumbles from your lips in a breathy, needy gasp. You grind through it, slow and messy, his release dripping warm between your thighs. “Oh, fuck,” he breathes, forehead pressed to your temple, his voice ragged and wincing a little from the sensitivity.
One hand steadies you as he unties the satin belt from around your wrists with the other, his free hand moving between your thighs to catch the wetness sliding down.
His fingers slip into your mouth and you take them, sucking the wet as your eyes lift to meet his, melting back into him.
His fingers slip from your mouth slowly, eyes locked on yours the entire time. The sheets are tangled beneath you. The air thick and warm with sex.
Rafe stays pressed against your back, chest rising hard against your skin while his hand spreads low across your stomach possessively, keeping you exactly where he wants you.
“Told you I could handle you,” he murmurs before kissing you again.
You smile into his mouth, still trying to catch your breath. “You can.”
He groans softly at that, eyes shutting for a second as his hips roll once more, cock still deep and sensitive inside you.
“Damn,” he whispers roughly. “How am I supposed to stop when you sound this fucking good, huh?”
His hand slides carefully up your throat, thumb resting beneath your jaw while he keeps your face tilted toward his.
“Rafe.”
“Yeah, baby?” He murmurs.
“You can’t get jealous like that again.”
His hands tighten around your waist instinctively, like he already knows where this conversation’s going and hates it anyway. “I know,” he says quietly as your fingers drift through the damp hair at the nape of his neck.
“What happens in here is fine,” you whisper. “But if you mess this up outside this room… we’re done.” The words land hard enough to wipe the smug look right off his face. “I mean it.”
Rafe goes quiet for a second, eyes fixed on yours while his hand drifts slowly along your waist. “Okay,” he murmurs. “Okay, baby.”
“I haven't done this type of thing with anyone.” Your fingers slide into his damp hair. “He just works for me,” you whisper softly. “That’s it.”
“Only me?” He asks immediately, like the question’s been sitting in his chest this entire time.
“Only you.”
His eyes shut briefly at that, forehead dropping against yours.
“Tell me I can trust you,” you whisper.
“You can,” he says instantly. “Promise.”
Your lips brush his while his arm tightens around your waist, keeping you tucked against him. “Then let it go,” you murmur. “No more jealousy. No more losing your shit over Bauer.”
Rafe laughs quietly under his breath. “Can’t promise I won’t think about beatin’ his ass at least once,” he mumbles.
You laugh softly and he kisses you again, slower this time, still breathing hard into your mouth.
“But I’ll behave,” he whispers against your mouth. “For you.”
“Thank you.”
His gaze drags over your face for a long second before his hand slides possessively down your stomach again.
“Besides,” he murmurs softly, eyes locked on yours, “doesn’t really matter now anyway.”
“Why?” You ask as he kisses you absentmindedly, his thumb tracing the inside of your wrist where the satin had been tied.
The corner of his mouth tilts. “Because he never had you,” he says quietly. “And I do.”
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