THEY • CALL • ME • SUGAR
part two • modern!au annie x sugar!baby reader x smoke
summary: a night out with your friend ends with you beginning an unexpected relationship with two people—a husband and wife. trips and money spent pulls the three of your closer, and the bond forged between you becomes undeniable.
cw: smut, they ferallll in this bitch, daddy!smoke, use of alcohol
a/n: thank you to my love @cravemyhoney for beta reading the first half (ish) of this :3. i was overthinking shit for no reason cause i ate this chapter up no lieeee. we got some pov changes, and that back and forth is a lil different from my normal style, so tell me how you feel! enjoyyy :33
they call me sugar masterlist • general masterlist
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When you walked into the lounge, there wasn't one square inch of you that resembled the woman that was laid up on the couch an hour ago. Where your bonnet had sat was now a head of freshly-styled hair. Where sweat pants had clung to your form was now a body dressed to the nines—full and on display for anyone to see. You smelled inviting and looked like a present that needed to be unwrapped.
But in your chest, your heart pounded with a mix of anxiety and recognition.
It had been forever since you’d gotten out of the house to have some real fun, and while it was anxiety-inducing to say the least, you didn’t entirely hate that fact that you were dragged from your couch. You were ready for whatever tonight brought, ready to have even the smallest bit of excitement.
Your friend, Reneé, walked in beside you—dressed to kill. She was a ball of energy already, flashing her smile at every man that looked too long and strutting like she ran the room. A dark red off-the-shoulder dress clung to her deep skin, practically blending into it. It fit over her curves like it was sewn on, and it fell to the middle of her thighs—not too short, not too long.
The thigh tattoo she got a few years back—a half-sleeve of pink, red, and purple roses—peaked out from beneath the dress, throwing an array of colors at every man who stared too close. And down her long legs, rested a silver anklet—demure in size—and a pair of Louis Vuitton’s—expensive and eye-catching.
You two looked like walking temptation, and you moved about the room like you were ready to make it everyone’s problem.
That was the thing about Reneé. She always brought out the side of you that was ready to have a good time and get into some shit. She never pushed too hard, never prodded beyond what you could handle, and you appreciated her for how daring she made you want to be.
The lounge was hushed—dimmed golden lights, soft jazz, the scent of smoke and dark liquor curling in the air.
In a dark corner, barely visible to the rest of the establishment, the couple sat side by side. Their thighs touched in the dark, fingers ghosting each other’s as they watched the room carefully. They needed to have some part of their person touching the other, even in the strangeness that was their pursuit; They always needed to be grounded—especially now.
For a room like this, dense in rich men and fat wallets, they tended to find escorts, sugar babies, and mistresses through more official channels. Notable men liked to have some verifiable information on the women they entertained that included a long track record of who she was and what other rich men she’d been with. Of course they would never turn down a pretty woman when they saw her at a lounge like this, but it just wasn’t always the first choice for something more in-depth.
But Smoke and Annie weren’t fans of the whole professional rotation of women with its rosters and interview processes. It felt disingenuous, and they wanted to find someone who at least found interest in who they were as people before money was thrown into the mix.
Annie sat against the leather couch, back and thighs cushioned with her husband’s arm over her shoulders. She wanted to feel secure, like she knew what she was doing and could be confident in that, but anxiety struck her quickly.
“What if we don’t find nobody,” she quipped, turning her head sharply toward him. She didn’t stumble over her words. She didn’t mumble. She spoke wired, like the anxiety had lit up something inside her that was loud with the need for answers.
Elijah sighed, shifting closer and pulling her in by his arm over her shoulder. The rocks glass of whiskey sat heavy on his thigh, and he thumbed the side of it while feeling every bit of his wife’s uncertainty.
“Don’t say that,” he shook his head, calm and quiet as he attempted to quell her worry. But Annie was on a roll now; Her leg was shaking, and she was working her wedding ring in circles on her finger, spinning it like it held all the answers.
“But what if,” she started, voice catching, “what if we doin’ this for no reason?”
“It ain’t for no reason because we both want this,” Smoke lowered his voice, leveling his eyes so she understood how serious he was being. He raised his cup to his lips for reprieve before he pulled her closer. Annie looked at him, eyes wide and lips in a pout. “We’ve talked about it. We’ve planned it. And even if we don’t find anyone, we try again.”
“And what if we still can’t?”
The question was full of frustration. The woman had somehow managed to wind her mind into a spiral of what ifs and what abouts, and her husband knew he needed to pull her back quickly. With all her work and many responsibilities, Annie only had a little capacity left for stress. She needed every aspect of her home life to be calm, and with the way she was worrying now, Elijah knew he had to step in.
Shifting his body toward hers again, Smoke moved his arm behind her back and down the length of her side. He pressed his hand into her waist, grounding her as best he could in the environment they were in. The man breathed deeply, meeting her eyes and watching as she followed his breath.
“We have each other,” he reassured her. “We always have, and we always will.” His words were softer than most people would ever get the chance to hear them be. In his classes, Smoke trained people off of sternness and grit. He maintained a strong tone and worked people just to the edge of overexertion. But with Annie? With Annie he was sweet and soft and patient. She loved that about him the most.
Elijah paid close attention to her breathing and how her body relaxed against his. When she seemed stable again, eyes looking up at him softly, he chuckled.
“Shit,” he scoffed in remark, rubbing his chin in thought.“I’ll be here as long as you want me.”
That sentence alone finally broke Annie into a laugh, letting her heart fully rest in the space between them. She squinted her eyes and tilted her head at the man like he knew better, the smile playing at the corner of her lips encouraging him to infiltrate her space.
“I’ll always want you, Elijah,” she shook her head with a grin, laugh coming out exasperated. The air returned to honest comfort. Her husband sat to her side, quietly sipping his whiskey as her mind roamed. She thought on her earlier moment of nearly slipping into her anxiety, how he reeled her back in softly. “I guess I’m just anxious now that we’re here is all.”
“It’s a lot to process,” he affirmed, nodding along because he understood her deeply. Always had.
Annie responded with a scoff, acknowledging the truth behind his quiet words, but her mind was already rolling again.
“What if we don’t have the same type?”
“Annie,” the man shot back, looking at her like she was crazy.
“Seriously though,” she shrugged. Her hands shot up, practically grasping for the remnants of her sanity. “What if you want somebody who’s not—”
“We’ve talked through this, baby,” Smoke interrupted. His tone was like concrete—unmovable yet providing undeniable stability and support.
“I know,” Annie breathed, casting her eyes down. She already understood that no matter what she said, Smoke would have a rebuttal for any bit of negativity. He always eased her down, always provided her stability when she needed it most. Even though her mind kept falling off into thoughts about him wanting someone completely opposite of what she wanted, she knew her and Elijah would solve anything that came their way. Annie’s eyes dragged back toward his, wet in the corners. “I’m sorry.” Her voice was smaller, and she forced her body deeper into his hold.
“Don’t you dare apologize,” her husband responded, kissing her temple. “I have a feeling that when we see her, we’ll both feel that spark. A pull, I guess.”
Their eyes shifted back to the room as Annie settled the discussion with a soft hum—affirmative and honest. Her anxiety was finally put to rest. With her husband sitting strongly at her side, she could finally register that everything was going to be okay even if it didn’t seem possible in the moment.
The room churned softly with jazz. A piano in the corner rang as the pianist worked the keys like she was born with music at her fingertips.
Annie had a sweating glass of wine in her hand, the other resting on Smoke’s thigh. The man sipped his whiskey, eyes on the room, focusing on the exits, glazing over the people nestled in faraway booths.
He always enjoyed this part of the night. The watching. The calculating. The picking up on people’s small cues.
He knew for a fact that he and his wife would gravitate toward the same person. They were too locked in, and their lives were so tightly woven that it made no sense to think anything different.
Smoke watched the exit as the door opened, some business man walking in like he was fresh out of the office.
Then he noticed a couple near them that had been cackling all night—loud and obnoxious.
And then his eyes narrowed in on the bar.
When they saw you, it felt like the air left the room. What once blazed with soft music and quiet energy was snuffed out as the couple partook in your beauty. They were overcome by you, minds venturing off too far into the future about vast hypothetical situations where they could shower you in money and attention.
The way your outfit hugged your body, the way you laughed fully with your head thrown back, the way your eyes lit up when you recognized a song playing from the piano—it all pulled them in.
Annie’s hand tightened around her husband’s thigh, trying to find some bit of control. And a part of her—deep in her head where the worry still sat—was asking if he felt what she did. Her fingers flexed against the fabric, tangling in the wrinkles she created as her rings scraped against him. And when her husband provided an answer to her unasked question, he delivered in the form of a gasping breath.
Elijah completely halted his breathing. His eyes were locked on the sight before him, and the only thing keeping him tethered to Earth was Annie’s hand.
No words needed to be said between them. They both understood what was happening—what emotions were brewing quietly yet boldly. It was obvious by they way their bodies remained connected—Elijah’s arm over Annie with her palm on his thigh—as their heads faced your direction. It was that stable connection between them that always remained and seemed to grow deeper as they indulged in the sight of you.
The man spoke first, voice gruff with the remnants of the whiskey in his throat and the desire boiling beneath the surface. His tone made Annie’s spine shiver, forcing her to ensure there wasn’t even the slightest bit of a gap between them. Their skin touched, sparking flames of want.
“What you think?”
His lips were close to her ear—too close—penetrating her body deep. They ghosted over her skin, making her mind flair with nasty thoughts. The woman released a quiet moan, one so delicate that only he could hear it over the sound of the music, but it was honest and needy.
“She’s pretty,” Annie answered lowly. She worked her bottom lip between her teeth, focusing on the way you crossed one leg over the other as you sat on that barstool. Your body was turned toward another woman, eyes smiling at something she said, and noting the distance between you two, Annie concluded that she was no more than a friend.
Or she hoped to God that was the case.
Her heart pitched, excited and enamored already.
From one glance at her, no one would ever guess that she was the confident business woman who negotiated with the most brawny of men for a living. The woman who normally held her head high with a tongue that bit back hard was cowering. Excited yet nervous. Enamored yet convincing herself that this couldn’t possibly work.
Smoke grunted beside her, moving in close. He pressed a kiss into her shoulder, effectively sending her body into a mess of shivers. He chuckled as she leaned into him, closing her eyes for half a second longer than usual.
“Go get us something else to drink, baby,” he whispered into her skin, nudging the side of her thigh. The words were like concrete and left no room for her to disobey, but Annie’s head still whipped back toward his. She took in every inch of his face. His eyes held the comfort she desperately needed. His chin remained strong—settled in an effort to show her how deeply he wanted what she did.
With a quiet nod of her head and a few deep breaths, Annie stood from the leather couch that had been providing her solace all night.
“I’ll be back, baby,” the woman cooed, planting a heavy kiss on the man’s lips. It lasted as short as she could manage it without making her head spin too much, but any time the couple got to kissing, it took an act of God to pull them apart.
Annie broke away with a laugh, pulling her head back to see Elijah with flushed cheeks and swollen lips. When she turned back toward you, Annie was renewed. She moved with confidence, hips switching back and forth—knowing her husband’s eyes were on her every step of the way. She sent a look over her shoulder, teasing and silly with a small wave.
She pushed her nerves away. Something about Smoke’s words had shut that part of her up. Something about your quiet laugh was bringing her down from the anxiety while her husband lingered on her lips.
Elijah watched her the entire way, sinking into his seat and setting his feet apart.
He knew Annie needed to be sent in first, knew she needed to be the first line of defense. She was a people person. A smooth talker. Someone folks loved for the simply fact that her voice sounded like straight honey—not to mention how too-sweet her disposition was.
And there was no denying that she was looking especially sexy tonight, heels making her long legs even longer as she strutted toward the bar.
“Can I get glass of Courvoisier and two shots of Reposado, please?”
The voice rang out from the other end of the bar top, but you couldn’t stop the way your ears perked up at the sound of it. Sweet—honeyed—and undeniably feminine. Her lips curled around each syllable, slow and with a controlled ease that had your head turning on a swivel to catch the mouth that had birthed such a beautiful sound.
And when you landed eyes on her, your intrigue only grew.
The woman was tall, even taller in the heels she wore as she leaned against the bar top—languid and easy. Her hair was in a beautiful nest of curls, effortlessly contained. Her body was covered in a short dress, comfortably falling over her soft curves and plush skin. Her face was stoic, and her posture gave off the impression that she belonged in a room like this: surrounded by rich men because she was a rich woman herself.
You could pick up on that same business-like swag that many of the lounge’s other patrons carried in their bodies. It was in the way she checked her watch or threw a look over her shoulder. Simple. Effortless. Beautiful.
“Girl,” Reneé startled you, “are you not listening to me?” When you focused in on your friend, she was looking at you like she’d been calling your name repeatedly. Her eyebrows were tight and her lips were pursed, and all you wanted to do was go back to looking at that woman.
“Huh,” you responded dazedly, mind somewhere else entirely. Reneé huffed out a laugh.
“I said, you need to get laid,” she recited. “It’s been forever and a day since you got some, and I need you to remember how good yo’ body can feel.”
“Mhm,” you hummed distantly, eyes already drifting back toward the woman. You watched her, paid attention to every detail of her—big and small. She had the most beautiful eyes, dark brown and round—yet cutting. She had moles on her face. She giggled along to the music. She twisted the rings on her hand. And she kept looking over her shoulder.
When she received her drinks—two shots of Reposado and a glass of Courvoisier—she wrapped her thin fingers around one of the shot glasses. You’d convinced yourself that you could hear the sound of her rings meeting the glass even though she was on the other side of the bar, too far for you to make out anything distinct. But when she lifted that glass to her mouth—your attention locked in on the swallow in her throat, the hollow of her cheeks, the pursing of her lips—her eyes met yours when she took it to the head.
Time appeared to stop.
You didn’t have a care for how Reneé was yapping in your ear or how the woman had been looking over her shoulder just seconds ago. All you cared about was how her eyes were on you right now.
The gaze she sent you was quiet yet commanding, and it remained on you as she set the glass down. A dull thud rang through your ears, making your stomach shudder. You watched her lick her heavy bottom lip, and your body grew hot as her stare penetrated your chest.
And then—she winked.
She giggled.
She sent a wave your way.
Your heart was practically beating out of your chest. There was no way a woman that sexy was hitting on you. There was no way you had almost turned down your friend’s request to hang out tonight. Your stomach churned when the woman grabbed the remaining shot and glass of Courvoisier. She turned on her heels, sent you one more look, and departed into a barely visible corner of the room.
“I know you fuckin’ lyin’,” Reneé quipped, eyes wide, mouth gaping, expression stilled. She’d seen in all: the woman walk up and order; the way you became transfixed; the look she sent you over her glass; the wave of her fingers she gave; and how your eyes were currently straining to see that dark corner she’d disappeared into.
She was simply astonished and very much proud, and a part of her became determined to make you see this through. Reneé laughed around her shock.
“Well damn! That woman was looking at you like she wanted to suck you clean off the bone,” her voice rumbled, making your insides shake from how real that felt. Your eyes were focused on where the women had gone to. You could just barely make out the leather couch she was sitting on and how one heeled leg was crossed over another. But that’s all you could see clearly, and it made your heart hurt.
“Stop being dramatic,” you sighed, straightening up in your seat again. You forced your eyes to stop following the woman or lingering on her place at the bar she had previously been—no matter how much your head wanted to snap back. You denied yourself the pleasure, pushed down the need.
Reneé scoffed beside you, cocking her head to the side in an effort to say she wasn’t stupid and she wasn’t born yesterday.
“I ain’t being dramatic,” she informed with a roll of her eye. She downed a shot of her own, barely flinching as the liquor hit her throat, red hot. Her attention was back on you in a flash, and you saw determination cross her face. “I was right here, and I saw all of that. A woman doesn’t go around throwing dirty looks like that unless she wants something. So…are you gonna give it to her?”
The way her voice lilted at the end made you snap your head in her direction. Your eyes narrowed into a warning, but all Reneé could do was laugh.
The pair could see you, but you couldn’t see them. The corner was too dark—too private and just how they wanted it. They picked up on every small change of your demeanor from the first time they saw you to when Annie left you in shock and wonder. Your posture had become unsettled, body threatening to turn in their direction. Your attention was spotty, far-off and imagining the woman in the corner.
It pulled a smiled to Annie’s lips and made her body hum with the need to fuck, but she forced it away—for now. Downing her second shot, Annie looked toward her husband who was gripping his glass of Courvoisier like it was about to run away. His jaw was clenched tight, teeth scraping. His body was leaned forward, elbows to knees as he watched from the near-dark.
“She want you bad,” he growled, practically shaking from his desire. He shook his head incredulously, remembering the way his wife was bent over that bar top, how your eyes ghosted over her body without shame. “She can’t even sit still without thinkin’ ‘bout you,” he added on his observation. His voice was dense, coming directly from his gut.
“I don’t know if I did enough,” Annie whispered, casting her eyes down. “She seem like the shy type. Like this ain’t really her element.” The woman swallowed thickly, dragging her eyes back over to how you seemed to be unable to calm your heart. It brought a small smile to her lips, one of pity and admiration. “She don’t even seem like she knows she can want and be wanted.”
“She’ll come around,” he nodded, quietly agreeing to her words, eyes on your fidgeting manner. He shrugged, sipping his drink. The woman beside you was pointing in their direction, talking your ear off to the point that he had to laugh. Smoke’s tone was resolute and definitive when he spoke again. “And if not, her friend will make her.”
Thirty minutes went by. The room stayed the same: thick with smoke, light with jazz, swirling with liquor, and dense with a need that you couldn’t get under control on your own. It was past the time that you had planned to leave in order to be back home in comfy clothes and asleep in bed, but your body was humming—screaming.
You needed that woman, and you needed her bad.
As Reneé talked about nothing while laughing boldly at every man who offered to buy her a drink, your mind pounded with thoughts of the woman.
What if I leave here tonight and never see her again, you asked yourself, concern and fear settling into your bones. What if I go my whole life regretting this? What if tomorrow I wake up pissed at myself for being too damn stubborn and scared to just let go?
Each question became more frantic, and with each answer not given, you fell deeper into distress. You could damn near feel the woman’s eyes on your back. They were heavy and temptation-filled, and you wanted so desperately to fall into her trap.
“Take your ass over there before you combust,” Reneé shook her head, giggling at the look on your face. You looked lost—mind gone. “You been thinking about her since she left,” your friend added, sipping her drink like you were providing her all the entertainment in the world. She wanted to instigate, to gently nudge you in the woman’s direction. She couldn’t forget the looks you’d given each other, couldn’t deny the way your words stopped from awe. “You obviously like her, so just go enjoy yourself for once. You don’t have to commit to anything. You’re not marrying her. You’re just talking.”
You let the truth sink in.
You wanted tonight to be fun; You deserved it and had worked too hard and worried too much to not enjoy life the life you were given. So with your friend’s encouragement locked in the back of your mind, you willed yourself to venture across the room. You ordered two shots of Reposado, hoping for it to be an offering to the woman.
“You here alone tonight,” your voice quipped, extending a question to the woman who sat against the thick leather couch like she belonged there. Standing above her with two shot glasses in hand, your eyes remained planted on her effortless beauty. Her attention had been wrapped around you from before you even got up from your seat, and when you stepped into the dark to find just her, a smile grew on her lips.
“Well, you’re here now,” she acknowledged without hesitation, gesturing for you to have a seat, “so you tell me, Sugar.” There was something so easy in the name. Something that wrapped around your heart and pulled you in. Something that mixed possession with passion and made you want to remain there for as long as she allowed.
You followed the guiding of her hand as she moved back on the couch to give you space to sit. You didn’t answer her, humming instead as you presented a shot glass to her.
“Thank you,” she grabbed the glass appreciatively, taking it down her throat like it was nothing. When she straightened up, watching you down your own shot with far less grace, her voice softened into a question. “What are you doin’ out tonight? This doesn’t seem much like your speed.”
“It’s definitely not,” your laugh cut through the words, exasperated. You smiled lightly, having the hardest time looking into her eyes without getting too caught up in her. Pointing in the direction you came from, you shook your head. “My friend dragged me out. She thinks I’m too much of a homebody.”
From your seat on the couch, you could see the bar without any obstruction. There was your stool—empty—and there was Reneé, leaning toward some man who had just walked up to her. The realization hit that while you hadn’t been able to see her, she could see you without issue.
The woman hummed in acknowledgment, clearing her throat.
“And what do you think?”
The question landed hard, causing you to ponder. You definitely loved being at home. With all your work and responsibilities and bills that needed to be paid no matter how much you wanted to rest, your couch and your warm bed were what brought you the most comfort. Your home was your safe space, where you could be without judgment, but you couldn’t negate the fact that tonight was panning out well so far. So you answered truthfully.
“I think home is where I’m most comfortable,” you shrugged thoughtfully, eyes getting lost in hers. Annie shifted closer, and her knees brushed yours. Clearing your throat, your tone lowered. “But if I hadn’t of come out tonight, I wouldn’t have met you,” you reached a hand out and offered your name, smooth yet shaking as you were finally getting your bearings.
“Annie,” she cooed. When your palms met, your center flushed with a heat that needed to be fucked out. Her skin was soft, hands large, fingers nimble. As the simple pleasure shot through your core, you shifted your body. One leg crossed over the other and your thighs clenched tight.
And Annie saw every bit of the need as it flashed through you.
“You’re real cute, you know that,” she giggled. Her left index finger hooked on one of her teeth, biting the tip of it for stability. She wanted to pounce. Wanted to make your body scream the way you clearly needed. But she had to settle her body’s excitement.
Smoke had gone off to the bathroom just five minutes ago, and here you were. It seemed like you had sensed she was alone now, waiting and watching you with no one at her side, but now nerves were shooting through her again.
She didn’t know how you’d react when Elijah returned, and the man had left his phone in her purse, wanting to be present without a screen to distract him. Annie worked her brain, thought of any idea of what to do as your eyes rolled down her body, taking her in up close. But that was when your eyes landed heavily on her left hand.
A fat diamond sat on Annie’s ring finger—loud and sparkling even despite the minimal light. She watched with spiked anxiety as your head tilted to one side, taking the jewelry in, fighting the part of you that wanted to get up and leave.
“You—you’re married,” you scrambled out, words shaky and not even attempting to ask for an explanation. You cemented the truth in your head, and you quickly began to feel stupidity flood your body. Annie reached toward you in an effort to make some sense of the whole thing, but you were already frazzled beyond help. You looked to the side of her. Glasses sat piled up, more than she could manage to drink on her own, and you remembered her order—two shots of Reposado and one glass of Courvoisier. “Oh God,” you groaned in disbelief and fright. “I’m so so sorry! I thought—I, I assumed that you wanted—fuck.”
You moved quick, rising to your feet, looking for any exit, hoping Reneé would turn your way even though the corner was too dark for her to see your panic. Your heart was beating in your ears, and your breathing had become uneven and erratic. You completely turned away from Annie in hopes to free both of you from this embarrassment, but that’s when your eyes landed on him.
Fear sank in, hushed yet active.
But low in your belly, something close to desire bloomed.
The man was straight-faced—not angry, just observant. He looked through you, eyes dragging down your front, zeroing in on your body in a way that felt too familiar and not familiar enough. It was a slow claiming, similar to Annie’s but far more dangerous.
You looked back toward the woman, seeking answers but mouth refusing to open and embarrass yourself any further. You felt like an idiot to be lusting after a married woman, buying her drinks and getting caught up in her too-sweet voice. Your head was pounding, and you didn’t know whether you needed a shit ton of alcohol or to just lay out and die.
Annie stepped forward, smile rising on her lips even as she noted your growing tension. She stood closer than needed, her breath ghosting over your face.
“This is my husband,” she announced, tilting her head in his direction while keeping her attention locked on you. You were immediately drawn back in by her. Breath heavy, your eyes followed her lips as she spoke, and then the man behind you both made his presence known once more.
“Name’s Smoke,” the man rumbled. His cadence was slow, tone rough but coated in something sweet. A Southern flair that felt too good to your ears.
“H-hi,” you waved politely, frightfully, eyes flashing between Annie and her husband. You threw your fingers in the air in apology, needing them both to understand that you meant no harm. Their energies were too strong, weighing on you in a delicious way. “I’m sorry I didn’t mean to disrespect either of you,” you whispered. Your hands crossed in your front, body shifting toward Annie’s. “I didn’t realize you were married.”
The woman’s eyes bore into you hot. Nothing about her gaze seemed like you had misinterpreted anything. She looked at you like her husband wasn’t right behind you, breath warm and loud with a quiet certainty that you didn’t understand. She looked at you like she was ready to take you right there and let the man watch, and something about that made you want to lean in.
“Oh, that’s just fine, Sugar,” she resolved, waving her hand in dismissal. “Smoke don’t mind much,” Annie giggled, meeting the man’s gaze with a seductive grin. Your face flushed, and as the heat of embarrassment and arousal flared throughout your body, you didn’t even realize the couple was planning your future.
“Let’s exchange information,” the woman demanded simply, putting on a commanding tone that you could only assume worked well in boardrooms and offices—and in her and her husband’s bed. She turned toward her purse that sat on the coach, bending over. She arched her back, sending her dress up her thighs.
With Smoke standing behind you—quiet and overbearingly attractive—and Annie bending over practically showing the underside of her ass, you didn’t know what to do with yourself. You could tell that the man’s eyes were finally off of you, giving you a second to breathe as you both watched with lust behind your eyes. His wife was rustling through her small purse, skin showing under the gold lights, and your mind swirled with thoughts too filthy to repeat.
“Put in your number,” she hummed, and for a second, you had to remember where you were. Your mind was still on how you’d just seen the back of her thighs, how her husband’s breathing was rough with arousal behind you.
Before second-guessing, you took the phone, saving your name and number as she asked. When she told you to give her your instagram, you still didn’t falter, obeying every command like you were awaiting praise; And she gave it, slowly crooning your name, biting her bottom lip before lifting her chin toward Smoke in victory.
“I’m sorry again,” you apologized, letting them know that you were past due to head home and that you hoped you hadn’t ruined their night. You were overcome by what you thought was your own stupidity, already beating yourself up from being presumptuous.
But then the man spoke up for just the second time since you were caught, and the sound of his voice imprinted itself in your mind.
“It’s all good, sweetheart,” he began, stepping into your personal space. His chest just barely brushed yours, and as much as you tried to breath normally, you simply couldn’t. “I hope we’ll see you again sometime soon.”
When the couple busted through the front door of their home, there was nothing stopping them from latching onto each other’s bodies. They weren’t in public anymore, and the need that had been intensifying all night had finally reached its peak.
Elijah wasted no time, backing Annie up into the living room.
His blood was pumping through his veins rapidly. His mind was stuck on the lounge. Watching Annie sauntered over to the bar and pull your attention so easily was making his body turn toward her even more. Having eyed you both from a quiet hallway as you passed Annie that shot glass before noticing her ring had him ready to fall inside of her.
He always adored his wife’s confidence, always allowed it to feed his own, but there was something about having another person in the equation that made things hotter.
“You so damn temptin’, woman,” he groaned, kissing her full on the mouth and taking every breath she tried to release. His hands were planted heavily on her ass, hoisting her up as he backed her into the couch. He used the furniture to provide them stability as his full lips traveled down her neck and toward her waiting cleavage. “Fuck you thought you was bendin’ over like that for,” he demanded an answer, mind swirling to how she’d reached for her purse, allowing you and him to see the back of her thighs. “Showin’ all that skin,” he shook his head in both disbelief and approval. “Made me want to take yo’ ass over that leather coach and let her watch.”
At that, Smoke turned Annie around, hand gripping the back of her neck. He pushed her into the arm of the couch, forcing her face into the cushions so her ass was presented perfectly for him.
And Annie moaned—partly from the force, partly from his mention of you. But the sound was filthy in only a way she could produce.
“Oh, you like that, huh,” the man questioned, pressing his pelvis into her ass. She could feel all of him, sitting thick and throbbing in the seat of his pants, and she couldn’t help but to grind back against him.
Annie was drunk out of her mind. The two shots she’d taken plus the one you’d brought and the glasses of wine she’d downed were making her head feel fuzzy and her body feel light with pleasure. She needed to be fucked hard, and if there was anything that needed to be noted about a drunk Annie is that her need was insatiable.
“I need that dick,” she slurred her words, propping her body up by extending her arms. She looked over her shoulder, pouting when the man just stared her down.
“I asked you a fuckin’ question, mama,” Smoke growled, cutting through the air. He pulled her by the hair at the nape of her neck, forcing her back against his chest. He breathed deep words into her ear while she moaned. “You like that? You like when I mention how slutty you get? How you would’ve loved to be fucked in front of her?”
“Yes,” Annie groaned, writhing against his solid form. “God, yes.” Breath heavy in her throat, the woman fought back. Her hands wrapped around his wrist, trying to loosen his hold on her hair, but she was barely giving it any real energy. She liked it when he got like this—when they were both drunk off that liquor and craving each other.
She liked Smoke rough, liked when his hands landed heavily, but something was different about tonight.
Every grit of his teeth, every tightening of his hand, every thrust against her ass was led by the memory of you and his wife together. He couldn’t get the image out of his mind, and he prayed to God he’d never forget it.
“Been dreamin’ ‘bout being in this pussy all night,” he remarked, mind going back to how he’d had that passing thought about staying home. If he’d done that, they wouldn’t have your number saved in Annie’s phone. If Annie had given in, Smoke wouldn’t have been this desperately needy. He breathed down her neck as he pushed her chest into the couch again. Pants down around his ankles with her dress raised to her hips, he demanded what he wanted—clear as day.
“Give me that pussy,” Elijah moaned, tossing his head back as his wife guided him in. He watched with glazed eyes as her hips pressed into his pelvis, grinding against him. This is how it went with them: Smoke brought all that sinful heat, and Annie matched it, forcing the man into a moaning mess.
It was lost on who was fucking who at this point. The woman’s thighs were burning as she glided back and forth on his length—wet and loud. But her husband was meeting her with strokes of his own now, thrusting into her and making the room dense with the sounds of heavy sex.
“This yo’ pussy, Smoke,” Annie moaned without hesitation, body hot and growing more tired by the second. She was captivated by the way the man stood over her, sweat dripping from his face, muscles bulging, jaw tight as his strokes became quick. She talked dirty, said shit about how she felt a spark between you and the man, how she wanted nothing more than to see it play out in her bed.
His hands gripped her hips, hitting the back of her vagina harsher. Deep and unrelenting, he fucked her through the pain and past the point of pleasure. The only thing keeping Annie’s body upright was the couch. Her legs had gone limp, and her arms had refused to hold her exhausted body up a long time ago.
He was fucking her too good, hitting all the right spots and sobering her up enough just to get her drunk off his dick.
They wanted you more than they could comprehend. What had began with slight uncertainty and anxiety on both parts was beginning to fade away and into unearned obsession. They desired every bit of you. From one night and a brief conversation, the couple couldn’t imagine looking for anyone else. They wanted to give you the world. To make you happy. To shower you in expensive clothes, money, and something close to love. And all it took was you sitting on that barstool, laughing freely.
While you laid in your bed at home, thinking about the way their eyes warmed you from the inside, they were fucking to the thought of you—tearing each other apart with no remorse.
Annie had cum a long time ago, creamy pussy gripping onto her husband’s length like her life depended on it. And in many ways, it did.
Her back was flush with his chest again, both of their upper bodies bare now. Nothing was in their way. Nothing obstructed them from getting to what they needed from the other. Their bodies met in a ruthless manner, and the subsequent moans, whimpers, and whines ricocheted around the room.
“Yeah,” Elijah nodded against Annie’s neck, rutting against her. His cadence was slow, tone muddled. “Give me that pussy,” he chanted as he hit it from the back, falling into her body with each thrust. He kept recited the words, kept demanding her to give all of it to him, and his wife obeyed.
“That dick so fuckin’ good,” she praised in appreciation, throwing in back with more enthusiasm. Her moans rumbled in her chest, mind on two people at once, body churning for the both of them. “You gon’ fuck her like this, daddy?”
Annie tore something in Elijah’s stomach wide open with that question. From her sickly sweet voice to that name he could never get enough of, Smoke was beginning to feel his body on the edge of climax.
He pulled out in a rush, leaving Annie a whiny mess before she realized she was being turned around. His heavy hands sat her ass on the arm of the couch, forearms going under her knees to kept her open and in place. And that’s when he began to fuck her like he was looking for buried treasure.
“You want me to fuck her,” he threw the question back at her. He got lost in the way her eyes rolled back, how her jaw slacked from too much please, but he wasn’t having any of that tonight. When she didn’t answer, too caught up in her own pleasure, Elijah pressed his fingers into her chin. He pulled her back to him harshly, still pounding into her while forcing her eyes to open. “Answer me, mama,” he groaned, feeling something coiling in his lower body. He was close—they both were—and when Annie finally spoke up, they came with haste.
“Ye-yes, daddy,” his wife admitted, throat raw from all her moaning. She held onto his shoulders as he stroked with harsh care, hardly able to keep her mind afloat. “I want it. I want you to give her this good dick, and I wanna show her how to take all of it.”
The couple left it all in the floor. They didn’t hold shit back. They didn’t deny themselves or each other any ounce of pleasure. They admitted their motivations. They confessed their love. They fucked each other with honesty and appreciation on the tip of their tongues.
You were somewhere across town, sitting in bed and thinking about your strange yet intriguing encounter—happy nonetheless that you’d gotten outside of your comfort zone for once; And Smoke and Annie were folded up in each other, arousal running deep with your name in the air.
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a/n: 10,500 words :DDD. how are we feeling about reneé? are we cool with her as a recurring character?
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