Rafe was sitting in The Maybourne bar nursing a glass of whiskey to end the day. His tie was loosened, his suit jacket unbuttoned so he could breathe, and the top three buttons of his shirt, which he wore underneath, were unbuttoned too.
He just wanted to make a quick stop to get some good whiskey. They always made it the best here.
He didn't even plan on talking to anyone but the bartender. But then you came in. Heels clicking against the tile, he didn't look then, but when your perfume lingered after you walked by? He spared a glance.
You were gorgeous. Jewelry twinkling in the low lights of the bar as you sat yourself on the far end of the bar. Rafe didn't want to stare so he forced himself to look down into his drink. Gesturing for another towards the bartender despite not being done with his first.
As he waited for his second glass of whiskey, he thought to himself. You definitely had a boyfriend.
There was no fucking way someone with the face you got wasn't in a relationship. But then again, the best are the most stubborn.
So maybe you were waiting on some friends.
Probably a group of your girlfriends to enjoy a night out. You looked young too. Way younger than Rafes age, so he was debating whether you'd be considered "jail bait" or not.
Jail bait or not you were hot as fuck.
So, Rafe decided he'd wait. Wait for whoever you were waiting on to show up to determine his next moves. These days Rafe usually wasn't into the whole dating scene, besides a random drunken hook-up here and there but he didn't really have time for that anymore.
He waited ten minutes, then twenty, and by the twenty-fifth minute, he was sure no one was coming. So you were here alone? What for? Maybe you're like him and like to come to bars alone. But you're not even drinking, so you can't be-
"You can stop staring at me."
Your voice came out flat, loud enough to hear but not noticeable enough for people to look. Rafe didn't even realize he had been staring, too lost in the thought of you to care.
"What? Yeah- I didn't mean to."
She just nodded and looked away.
What the fuck was that? Rafe thought to himself, he had never in his life been so.... unsure around a girl. He was a quieter, more subtle charm, type of guy. But the moment you called him out so casually, he lost all train of thought.
For a minute he thought about leaving. But you were too good to pass up. He'd try. Just once. Ask you a couple of questions, if you'd grace him by answering. He didn't wanna seem like a creep either, especially cause he had been staring.
Rafe felt dumb because he knew he was stalling, for some odd reason. He finished his second glass and sucked the burn from his teeth, getting up from the stool before his brain could stop him.
You looked up when he neared you, staring up into his eyes and waiting for him to speak first.
"I'm sorry about earlier."
"You don't have to apologize," You spoke, your eyes assessed every inch of him and he felt it.
"You didn't mean it.
"No, but I did- I mean, I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. I just thought you looked nice."
“Nice?”
Rafe felt his body grow hot. Who tells a girl they look nice? That's how you speak to family members. Not girls you're interested in.
"Nice? I meant pretty. You look stunning."
It took you a minute to respond. "Thank you." "Yeah. You're welcome."
The conversation came to an awkward halt, Rafe was deeply regretting his choice in coming over here but you were mildly entertained so you pushed.
"Is that all?"
"What?"
"Is that all you came over here for? To tell me that I'm pretty?"
"No... That's dumb. You already know you're pretty”
"So then what'd you come over here for?"
"To just ask... if you had a boyfriend."
You shook your head no, a nonverbal answer to keep him hooked.
"No? What— How old are you?"
"Old enough to be in a bar." You teased but were quickly met with Rafes' glare though, it didn't do much but make you laugh.
"What? I don't tell personal information to random men."
"Really." He said flatly before sitting down next to you. "Sure. Invite yourself into my space."
Rafe paused before turning towards you.
"It's a bar. I'm allowed to sit—"
"I'm kidding"
It took everything in Rafe not to get up and walk away. He felt like you were playing with him. Every time he felt like he'd have the right answer, you'd change direction.
"So... If I tell you something about me would you tell me about you?"
"Depends on what you tell me." You hum.
"What do you wanna know?"
"Maybe your name."
"Rafe.... and yours?"
"You can get that later."
"I gave you my name, how is that-" He cut himself off. No way was he gonna let you get him worked up. He was older, more mature, and he had to show you that.
"Fine. What else do you wanna know just so that I can know your name and age?"
"Mmm.... why do you wanna know?" Rafe sighed and spread his knees, his right one nearing your left knee.
"Because I think you're pretty... and I'm interested in you. But I don't want to get ahead of myself because I don't know you. yet."
"Yet?"
"I plan to get to know you... If you'll let me."
"Mkay.. how old are you?"
"Thirty-one."
You smiled before running your tongue along your teeth. You liked older men, of course. It's the whole reason you even come to places like this.
Men are easy. Guys your age are pathetic and clueless. Older men are useless and desperate for a young woman's attention. Rich older men? They knew how to please. Well, at least with their money.
"I'm twenty-five"
Rafe took a minute to process it. He hasn't been with someone that much younger than him, even though it's only five years.
"That's young." He says as he rubs his hands together before setting them back down again. "It's not that young. Only five years."
"Yeah, I know."
"..So, what do you do?"
"What do I do? Like, my job?" Rafe sighs, he's never been into small talk. But he's also never gone for a girl he didn't already know unless he planned to forget about her after.
"Yeah, your job."
"I own a real estate development company."
"So like.... You make houses?"
"Yeah, build em' and design em'"
A laugh bubbled out of you. "Is that your slogan?"
"What? No— I don't have a slogan."
"Why not? That was pretty good."
"Then why are you laughing?"
"Cause you rhymed."
Rafe sighed. He's never had a girl make him feel so dumb before. No one's ever laughed at him either.
"Yeah but just because you didn't find it funny doesn't mean it wasn't that funny for others."
"Okay. Moving on. Can I have your name now?"
You sighed with a smile and rolled your eyes.
"y/n."
"Pretty."
"Thanks."
"...What do you do?"
"Mm... I work in fashion marketing."
He nodded. It didn't seem far off, he could tell from the way you carried yourself.
"Where are you from?"
You laughed. "Not from here."
"Not this state?"
"Not anywhere you could guess.”
In Rafes mind he didn't expect anything less. You liked one of a kind and there was no way he could find something like you twice in a lifetime.
"I'm bored. Let's dance."
"I don't-"
"You do."
You tugged on his arm and dragged him onto the dance floor. He didn't even know why he followed.
The night wasn't even supposed to go down like this. But he let you guide him in whatever way you wanted.
You grinded against him slightly, making sure he caught the flow and moved with you. Hands low on your hips as he guided you against him. It was teasingly sensual and Rafe could feel himself getting hard. That's when he leaned in, right over your shoulder.
"When can I see you again?"
"Why do you wanna do that?"
"Gotta have you."
"No thanks.”
"I ain't talking sex, it's whatever you want. just wanna see you."
"...We can meet here. On this day, at the same time."
Rafe nodded. He didn't even know if he'd be free then but he'd have his whole schedule cleared if that's what you asked.
"Okay. I'll be here."
"I know."
You had his attention at first but you got him addicted instead.
you’re a grade school teacher, more used to helicopter moms and clueless dads than actual ceos strolling into your classroom. but rafe cameron isn’t just any dad — he’s late to every meeting, condescending in every conversation, and apparently allergic to taking criticism.
fresh off a bitter divorce, he treats every woman like a business transaction and sees you as just another person trying to tell him what to do with his kid.
you, on the other hand, refuse to be talked down to. you care about his son, you care about your work, and you’re not going to let some arrogant man with a rolex tell you how to do your job.
the problem? the more you push back, the more he notices you.
and once rafe decides he wants something — whether it’s a company, a contract, or the stubborn teacher in his kid’s life, he doesn’t stop until it’s his.
Summary: Rafe’s assistant denying you entry into his office because not knowing who you are until Rafe steps in and sets her straight.
Warnings: none!!
Word count: 1,390
MASTERLIST (CEO!Rafe au masterlist)
You didn’t normally come to Rafe’s office unannounced. It wasn’t that you weren’t welcome—far from it. You had full access: your own keycard, your own car space in the underground garage, and even your name subtly engraved on the leather lounge in his office—a quiet little anniversary surprise he’d arranged months ago. But today, you just wanted to see your husband.
No planning, no calls. Just drop by with his favourite green smoothie and maybe sit on his lap while he went over a quarterly report. A simple surprise. You stepped into the sleek, marbled lobby of Cameron Development , nodded at the security guard who gave you a warm “Mrs. Cameron” and made your way to the private elevator that led straight to the executive floor.
You even texted him: “Coming up. Missed you.”
But when the elevator doors dinged open to the 52nd floor, and you stepped out into the minimalist, glass-walled space, something felt off. Your arrival wasn’t met with the usual warmth. Instead, it was met wit hesitation. A woman stood from behind the sleek reception desk—polished and pretty, with a high-neck blouse and perfectly curled hair that hadn’t moved all day.
“Excuse me,” she said crisply. “This floor is for senior executive staff only. If you’re lost, I can escort you back downstairs.” You blinked. “I’m not lost. I’m just here to see Rafe.” Her lips thinned. “Mr. Cameron is in a meeting. I can take your name and number and have his assistant reach out to you.”
Your brow furrowed. “You are his assistant.” She tilted her head slightly. “I’m Mr. Cameron’s executive assistant.” The emphasis was hard to miss—clipped, cold, and entirely unapologetic. You held your smoothie a little tighter, a little annoyed now, but still calm. “Right. I’m his wife.” There was a pause.
The woman gave you a once-over—your low heels, the silk blouse you’d knotted at your waist, the expensive-but-soft curls, and the bare face you hadn’t bothered to dress up. Clearly, she hadn’t gotten the memo. She folded her arms. “I don’t see your name on his calendar.” You smiled tightly. “I don’t need to be on his calendar to kiss my husband. Kindly move.”
Before she could respond, the familiar click of a glass door echoed through the hallway—and then there he was. Rafe. Suit jacket unbuttoned, sleeves rolled to the forearms, his white shirt crisp against sun-kissed skin. A Rolex flashed at his wrist with every step he took, confident and direct, like the whole damn floor belonged to him. Which, of course, it did.
“Hey baby.” Your whole body softened at the sight of him. But the warmth in his eyes vanished the second he registered the tension in the room. His strides were long, purposeful, as he crossed the floor to you. “What’s going on?” “I was just explaining to this woman—” the assistant began, but Rafe cut her off with a glance so sharp it could split wood.
He turned fully to you, stepping into your space, hands resting low on your hips. “You okay?” You nodded, suddenly self-conscious. “She wouldn’t let me through. Didn’t know who I was.” Rafe’s jaw ticked. His eyes flicked back to the assistant. “You didn’t know who my wife was?”
“I haven’t met her before,” the assistant said defensively, straightening her blouse like she was still trying to salvage her authority. “She didn’t have an appointment—” “She doesn’t need an appointment.” Rafe’s voice cut through the hallway like ice, low and controlled, the kind of calm that only meant a storm was about to hit.
You felt the air change around you, the heaviness of his presence anchoring you where you stood. “She’s my wife.” He stepped closer, eyes locked on the assistant like she’d just committed corporate treason. “It doesn’t matter if you’ve met her or not. You’re my assistant—you should know what my wife looks like.”
Then, with a sharper edge, he added, “Her picture is everywhere in my office. Framed on my desk. In the bookcase. Hell, it’s the lock screen on my phone. So what exactly are you not seeing?” The woman visibly faltered. “You don’t stop her. Ever,” Rafe added, voice like steel now, his hand sliding gently around your waist as contrast, possessive and steady. “Clear?”
The woman could only nod, lips pressed into a tight line, her earlier confidence vanishing under Rafe’s glare. He looked down at you. “Come on, sweetheart.” You followed him into his office, letting the doors shut behind you. The tension slipped off your shoulders the moment they did.
He pressed a kiss to your temple and helped you out of your coat, smoothing your hair with his fingers like he was grounding himself. “You good?” he murmured, thumb brushing your cheek. “I’m fine,” you said softly. “She just had a bit of an attitude.” Rafe’s lips curled in irritation. “Not anymore, she doesn’t.”
-
The next day you returned around noon, invited this time with a quick text from Rafe: “Come up when you’re free.”
But when the elevator doors opened again, the desk outside his office was empty. Not a trace of his assistant. No coffee mug left behind. No expensive perfume clouding the air. Just silence and the distant sound of Rafe’s voice on a call behind the smoked-glass doors.
You stepped in and waited a minute before he saw you through the glass and hung up quickly. “Hey, baby.” He tugged you inside again, arms around your waist before you even had a chance to sit. “You fired her?” you asked. “Damn right, I did.” You blinked. “Rafe—wasn’t that a bit extreme?” He pulled back slightly, eyes sharp and unwavering.
“No. My assistant has one job—manage my time, run point. But above all? She should know who the hell my wife is.” Your lips parted in protest but he shook his head. “No excuses. You’ve been on the cover of Forbes with me. Your photo’s in every investor deck, not to mention framed on my damn desk. If she didn’t know you, it means she didn’t care to do her job properly.”
You exhaled, still half-smiling. “You’re dramatic.” “I’m married,” he said simply, leaning down to kiss the corner of your mouth. “And I don’t tolerate people disrespecting my girl.” “So who’s your new assistant?” He grinned. “Haven’t hired one yet. Might just promote you.”
You scoffed. “No thanks. I like kissing you without scheduling it three days in advance.” “Mmm.” He nuzzled into your neck, breath hot against your skin. “I’ll pencil you in for a desk appointment anyway.” And just like that, your husband had you pressed into the edge of his billion-dollar desk, your name still engraved on the leather lounge behind you.
AUTHOR’S NOTE ⭑.ᐟ likes, reblogs, & requests are appreciated and encouraged 🐆
it was still dark outside.
you turned onto your side, letting out a huff at the dull throb in your head, the sheets cold against your face. your arm extended reaching for the water bottle you kept on your nightstand— except it wasn't there.
confused, you sat up with your brows furrowed and the comforter covering your chest, only to realize that this wasn't your room.
navy sheets instead of pink, brown nightstands instead of white, small reading lights instead of your string lights. the sun was higher now, illuminating the rest of the room in a golden glimmer— that's when you saw it.
a gold signet ring, as well as navy blue pants and a white button-up crumbled on the floor, and your clothes from last night strewn on the hardwood next to the end of the bed.
this wasn't your house.
it was rafe cameron's house.
your boss.
"shit," you mumbled aloud, crawling to the edge of the bed, already tugging your panties over your hips, looking around desperately for your phone. the shower connected to the room shut off, the sound of water dripping filled the space, as well as the faucet.
you were halfway through getting dressed when he came back to the room, a towel wrapped around his hips, revealing the water droplets along his chest as well as the toned plane of his abdomen, his hands running over the wet strands of his hair. his eyes locked on you, a smirk already on his lips when he made his way over.
'hey, baby," he mumbled, slipping the gold band onto his finger. "how'd you sleep?'
you walk into his corporation like you own the building. the other candidates—tall, slim, blondes who look more like models than assistants—gawk as you pass. you don’t look at them. don’t need to.
rafe sees you through the pane of glass mid-interview, already bored out of his mind. the redhead across from him has a voice like a fire alarm and a push-up bra that looks physically painful. the second he can usher her out, he’s pointing at you.
you don’t sit. you arrive.
he offers you the job halfway through your resume. halfway through undressing you with his eyes. (he already decided when he saw your name.)
now, you’re showing up to work everyday as his personal assistant in an outfit more provocative than the last. other employees stare at you, companies sign six-figure deals the second you smile at them in the lobby. he’s never seen anything like it.
but you still greet him every morning with his coffee and a shy smile. you still scribble down his commands while you push up your glasses (that are more for decoration than anything). you still blush like a schoolgirl when he gives you praise and sit with your legs crossed, like sex on a stick.
and rafe’s main priority ever since he’s laid eyes on you is keeping you here, with him, under his control.
୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ rafe always cures your need for more trinkets
୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ceo!rafe x trinket collector!reader, fluff, he has so much money like im scared, you have a sonny angel trinket obsession collection, he acts like he couldn’t give less of a shit but you know he’d rather die than not give you what you want
“oh my god.” you said suddenly, sitting up a sharply in your bed and holding your phone.
you and rafe are laying in bed, enjoying a peaceful morning before the busy day ahead of you both. some kind of important business deal rafe has that’s been booked for six months. and you had a big day of shopping planned. just a few makeup and jewelry necessities you’ve had your eyes on for a few weeks.
rafe turns his head and looks at you with his eyebrows furrowed and lifts a hand to rest on your back.
“hmm?” he hums in question. he sits up and rests his back against the headboard, shirtless in all his glory and his simple gold chain rests against his collarbones.
you ignore him and reach into your bedside table to grab your laptop. your fingers move relentlessly on the keyboard and before rafe can ask what you’re doing, he sees the infamous website homepage that you have grown so accustomed to.
Sonny Angel Store USA.
he smirks to himself and rolls his eyes. “jesus, baby.”
“don’t. even.” you say firmly. your attention is locked on your laptop screen, clicking away.
the sonny angel instagram page announced a restock of your favorite collection that had been sold out for months. you had to get your hands on as many as you could buy because there was no way you weren’t getting any.
“christ, my heart is literally pounding,” you said lowly, adrenaline running through your veins. “rafe, i swear to fuck. if i don’t get any of these, i’m going to kill myself with one of your guns.”
he laughs behind you, his hand rubbing gentle circles on your lower back until he moves and gets up from the bed.
you ignore him, not caring a single ounce of where he’s going. you spam-click the tiny little plus sign next to the quantity amount until the number stops changing, then clicking the ‘add to cart’ button.
your screen takes you to the checkout page, and you have never moved so fast in your life. you half sprint to the dresser and dig in your purse to look for your credit card, but you can’t find it.
“fuck.” you spit out. your arms are shaking, and you dump the entirety of your purse out onto the dresser. lipglosses, spare sonny’s, and gum wrappers tumble and fall from your purse and onto the floor.
you don’t realize the body standing next to you until a few seconds later. you look and there’s rafe, handing you his black amex between his middle and pointer fingers.
he just looks at you and shrugs, almost like a ‘what’s the problem?’ kind of look. you don’t give him a second look before taking the heavy card and rushing back to your side of the bed.
you furiously type in the card information, too much time already wasted, and click the ‘confirm purchase’ button. the screen loads and loads and after ten seconds, you see the ‘thank you for your purchase!’ screen.
you let out a yelp of happiness before hopping off the bed and wrap your arms around rafe’s neck.
“thank you, baby.” you say softly with a smile. you peck his lips and squeal, hugging him again.
“you act like i don’t buy them for you every time,” he says matter of factly. “still don’t know why you have a credit card when you have quite literally never had to use it with me.”
he wraps his arms around your back, his hands at the base of your spine. “either way, i’ll always take care of you, doll. weird toy obsessions and all.” he plops a chaste kiss on your lips with a playful smack to your ass.
you roll your eyes and move away from him. to the shelving unit right next to your vanity and it’s too full. you turn around slowly and look at your boyfriend who’s leaning against the doorframe and just waiting for you to ask.
“…. i think you’re gonna need to put another shelf up.”
bonus!
you’re sitting in the bathroom painting your toenails, soft music playing from your phone when rafe calls your name.
“hold on. gimme a minute.” you say. you cap the nail polish and wave your hands over your left foot, trying to get the paint to dry even though that’s physically impossible.
you check your phone and notice that it’s almost an hour later than when rafe usually gets home. you don’t think much of it; he’s been swamped at work, trying to get this one deal set and stone.
you waddle out of the bathroom and into the bedroom. you make your way to the bed, and sit down on the edge of it with your feet on the floor.
rafe is standing by the door with both of his hands behind his back, dressed in a sleek gray suit, red tie, gold rings on his hands, and a watch that looks about fifty years old but could easily pay your guys’s mortgage for half of a year.
“what’s going on?” you say. you squint your eyes a bit at him, wondering what he could be planning.
he shrugs and pulls a box out from behind his back. and it’s just a plain brown box. nothing out of the ordinary. it’s not small by any means, but it’s not a giant packing box either.
“got these for you. had ‘em shipped to the p.o. box that i use for work. didn’t want you to go peeking if it got delivered here.” he says simply.
he walks over to you and hands you the box, then moves to the bathroom to get undressed. acting like you got a random envelope in the mail talking about how you could save an extra fifty dollars this month if you signed up today for a new wifi plan.
you hear him taking off his clothes to get in the shower and open the brown box.
“rafe! what the fuck!” you yell excitedly. you sift through the box and it is full to the brim with fucking sonny angels. at least three hundred dollars worth, if not more. all different series, limited edition ones that haven’t been sold in a couple years. you do a quick mental count and you lost track after ten. it felt like the box was endless.
you drop the box on the floor, careful of your still drying toes, and half the box spills over the floor at your hurry. you walk into the bathroom and see the silhouette of rafe’s naked body through the fogged door of the shower.
he knows of your love for little collectibles, whether it’s sonny angels, miffy figures, smiskis, mofusand kitties, or even labubus. he always acts uninterested when you babble about rumors of a new series or how a new figurine is being made. but he loves how happy they make you and seeing you happy and joyful is the biggest thing that makes his heart grow fonder.
“rafe! what — when did you do that, what the hell?” you open the door a bit so he can hear you better. he pulls his face out from under the spray of water and wipes his face with his hand. then he steps towards you a bit.
“dunno. maybe like — couple weeks or so ago? even paid for fuckin’ express shipping, but they ended up coming today. so — sorry they’re late.” he gives a soft smile and reaches for his body wash.
you tear up because it means so much to you. like okay what the hell, they’re teeny tiny little naked baby figurines with different head coverings, what the fuck is so great about them?
it means a lot that he cares about your hobbies and interests and on his own accord, searched online to buy you more than you could ever ask for. just the initiation and attention to detail about something that truly means so little to others, but the world to you.
you sniffle and laugh. “hope you know that you’re opening each one with me.”
he groans and smiles, tipping his face back under the water. he gurgles a mouthful at the motion.
“yeah, yeah. whatever,” he responds. you close the door and make your way back to the bedroom when you hear,
“i’m telling you right now. if we open one and we get the fuckin’ mouse, i’m taking it for myself. don’t fuck with me.” he says firmly.
your mouth drops open. well, well, well.
a/n: guys i gotta be honest, my trinket collection is getting out of control like im running out of room to put my sonny’s anywhere and im SCARED (i will never stop buying them my heart cannot stop the grind)
ceo!rafe calls in his secretary for what seems like another slap on the wrist, but it's clear from the moment she sits in front of him that she's deserving of much more than just that.
ceo!rafe x secretary reader; dark!rafe, dark themes, dubcon, daddy kink, smut. dead dove do not eat (?), MDNI. tw; slapping, aggression, filthy stuff....? let me know if i missed anything!
(still working on getting this part down...)
a/n: hi friends :) this one has been sitting in my drafts for a bit, but i finally got around to tweaking it. i'm not super crazy ab the lore leading up so you can ignore that LMAO i'm just not great at jumping into a scene so i have to build it up. also again, it's lazily proof read so beware. the ending is also slighty rushed, but i just wasn't sure where to take it LOL. enjoy! <33
you sit at your desk quietly, your hands trembling as you await your boss’s — the CEO, your direct higher up’s, call yet again, you had made another stupid mistake, failing to copy him, and other important figures of the company in important emails. the job was simple enough, or so one would’ve thought. but it was new, you weren’t used to being glued to a computer, filing paperwork, answering hundreds of calls a day. you tried your very best. and you should because you were merely a product of nepotism, the job given to you out of pity. young and freshly finished with school, yet still unable to get a big girl job. your step father generously pulled some strings with the rafe, the ceo, his best friend, of a his multi-million dollar company. of course the plan was that you’d move up eventually, but you’d need to begin with the simple work first. and you did.
rafe was a close family friend. he spent lots of time with you and your family during holidays, special events. never missing birthdays. he may as well have been apart of your family. but he was careful, keeping a strict thick line between business and personal affairs. rafe was always around, always funny and kind, very much loved. granted, work was a different time for him, and it showed. he was generous enough to offer you a job as one of his secretaries, he had a few. you liked the job enough although you knew you didn’t want to do it forever. you accepted happily. nice pay, great benefits, a place to dress to the 9’s nearly everyday, which was perfect because you had gone to school for fashion anyone.
after couple months of being there, it started to feel like routine, everything was comfortable except for your social life. you didn’t have a problem with most people. it seemed as though you got along with everyone pretty well. almost everyone. there were just a couple of colleagues of yours who had been an issue. to put it plainly, they were mean girls. it was something you thought you would’ve escaped upon graduating high school years ago. it was strange. rafe never showed you much favoritism, so you weren’t sure why there was so much animosity. he expected and treated you just as he had anyone else. maybe even a little harsher.
finally, the anticipation brewing in your stomach disappeared, turning to anxiousness when your phone finally rang. your mouth dried and you reached for it, picking it up slowly with a quiet wince.
“hello?” you answer, your voice nearly turning to dust. you look around subtly, hoping no one would know what was happening, but the other secretaries, the clique, as you called them, bunched together just a few feet away, glancing and whispering.
of course, it was rafe. “my office. now.” and then, a dead line. now was never good. it meant something was wrong. it meant he had to stop the other hundreds of things he was doing. it meant trouble.
with weak knees, you brace your hands on the work desk, pulling yourself out of your chair. a soft, but deep breath escaping your lips in an attempt to calm yourself down. you hated to mess up, to be in trouble, to be on the bad side. you begin walking down the hall, which felt like it only grew longer the farther down it you got. finally, you reach the elevator which would eventually take you up to the tip top floor, where only his office resided. “the gates” as everyone called it.
the ride on the elevator felt slow, daunting. the muscles in your throat seemed to tighten with fear and embarrassment, forcing a lump up, up, and up. eventually, you’d reach the top of the building, the elevator’s doors gliding open smoothly. he sat quietly at the edge of his desk, eyebrows furrowed together with something unreadable. maybe partly in stress, partly in anticipation for his next meeting, next objective or thing to do, but mostly frustration with you. his gazed moved away from his expensive watch, and up to you as he heard the elevator ding, watching carefully as you inched toward him.
“hi rafe!” you start, hoping to smooth things over with your bubbly personality.
“mr. cameron at work,” he corrected. “sit.” nodding toward the chair. your breath hitched a little and you gulped quietly, not used to seeing such a side of him. it was hard to not be intimidated by him. he was achingly handsome outside of work of course, but at work was a different side. there were no games, he was sharp… he meant business. today he was dressed in a dark blue suit, custom and tailored to his body, because why not? he had the money for it. even while sitting his frame towered over you. this wasn’t difficult to do no matter what position. his blonde hair was buzzed neatly on his head, not a single thing out of place. everything about him looked like it belonged.
his gaze never left you. his blue orbs following you oh so carefully, intensely, examining every inch of your frame, eyes resting for just a beat too long in all the perfect places. your white button down blouse, paired with your black and white tweed skirt which hugged your hips so sweetly, barely in code with your sheer stockings that contoured the shape of your legs, with black kitten heels that clicked quietly against the marble floors. you were oblivious of course, and he was subtle. he treated you like everyone else, maybe even a little worse to what you thought was to avoid any sort of accusations, though it could’ve also been warranted with all of your small little fuck ups that he had to talk to you about. he was growing frustrated with you, but with his undying soft spot for you, he persisted with giving you a talking to, which proceeded with you promising him to be better. though it consumed time he didn’t have, and though he’d never admit it, he liked to hear you ramble on about how sorry you were and how you were gonna make things right. he thought it was cute. sweet. but he’d never make that clear.
your clammy hands reached for the chair that sat in front of him, searching for support as you rested your bottom in the cushion. looking up at him with your sweet doe eyes, you settled into the chair, breath shallow, heart beating with anticipation for what’s to come.
he looked at you silently, eyes narrowed slightly as if to study you. to you, not so much as to check you out but as to understand why you couldn’t just do your damn job. to him, like a wolf sitting just before his bunny, knowing the sweet meal he was about to capture. one too many times he’s called you to his office, stern talking to’s, empty promises. you tried, you really did. it was just so different and difficult, so many things to keep up with and not enough time in a work day. you wanted to make him proud. he was important to you, to your family at the end of the day. he was tired of playing nice with you. your warnings were up, and now he was going to teach you a lesson. he licked his soft plump lips, his eyes resting for just a second too long on the space between the opening that the unused buttons left on your shirt and your soft skin. he could see your shallow breathing, chest rising and falling quickly and quietly.
“d’you wanna tell me why i keep having to call you up here?” he queried, clearing his throat. you knew from the tone of his voice the question was rhetorical, he wasn’t done. “think i’ve been real generous, lettin’ you show me what you’re capable of. ’n yet you continue to disappoint me.” he says flatly. ouch. your heart aches with embarrassment, your eyes growing glassy but not quite ready to fill with tears.
“ra-“, you corrected yourself quickly and took a deep breath, not daring to make the blatant mistake of call him by his first name at work again. “mr. cameron,” you continue, shifting nervously in your seat. pleading with him almost, desperate for him to understand how hard you’re trying, your voice breaking. “i promise I’m trying, i really am. i try to follow the rules ’n do my work ’n I’m so sorry i’ve been missing a few things.” A single tear threatens to fall down your face, so you wipe it away quickly, but he sees. his eyes soften for just a split second and then his face hardens again, jaw rolling. he didn’t like to see you be upset, but your desperate pleas and tears admittedly did something to him. something filthy. he ignored your words as if he was tired of your excuses. he had a business to run, a tight ship, and he didn’t have time for a dumb girl fucking things up. he’d had it.
he moved further toward the center of the desk, now sitting just a foot away from you. your pleading eyes moving up his tall lean frame to meet his, which unbeknownst to you, stared down at you hungrily, pupils dilated. a flash of irritation flashed across his face, his mouth twitching slightly.
“’s frustrating, honestly. y’know how many call and emails i make in a day? how many meetings i take? on top of all the other bullshit? y’think i have time to keep doing this with you, angel?” his words hitting like daggers to your perfectionist heart. his hand reaches down and you flinch just a little, though he only sweeps a strand of hair behind your ear, fingers gently grazing the soft sun-kissed skin on your cheek.
“you wanna follow the rules, and yet…?” his hand moves again and his eyes follow, back to your cheek and down to your full glossy lips, the pad of his thumb dragging your bottom lip down ever so slightly just to see how plump they are. the room in his pants tighten slowly but surely. you gulp, expressions of uncertainty run clear across your face. your throat barely squeezing the remnants of saliva down it. “i don’t.” you finish the sentence clearly left for you to interpret.
“maybe you like testing me. wanna see what i’ll do…” his voice is still low, and sharp, like a blade on skin, taunting you. like he’s getting a kick out of scaring you, which was obviously what you were. eyes wide, tears stinging, threatening to fall from those pretty doe eyes. despite how scared you were it was hard to ignore the fiery warmth that began pooling at your core, the warmth that his eyes burned into you.
by now his hand was gripping your jaw, his face leaned into yours, your noses just centimeters apart. your face was burning with embarrassment, eyes beaming into your soul. but neither one of you looked away. he whispers, eyes never leaving, “‘m gonna show you what happens when you don’t follow the rules, bambi.”
“i-“ you’re interrupted by the feeling of a hot sting on your cheek, your mouth falling agape. a bitch of a slap he’d given you to shut you up before you started rambling again. hot tears fall roll one by one from your eyes. “perfect, you’ve already got the idea,” he smirks. he’s got you right how he wants you. “on your knees.”
you stay there for a second too long, unable to process what he’s said or done, but the roughness of his voice mixed the hand that snakes to the back of your neck, gripping you tight like a little puppy snaps you back to reality. this was unlike the rafe you knew. and frankly, you weren’t sure what to make of it. you’d thought about him in ways you’d rather not confront more times than you’d like to admit. but those feelings were tucked away in a deep corner of your brain. you weren’t sure if this was even reality or not.
“don’t make me ask twice,” he threatens quietly, deep sturdy voice making you fall to his feet like puddy. your chest feels tight, but your core grows confusingly hot, tangling in knots.
“so pretty when you cry, baby,” he coos still staring down at you, bottom lip pouted out ever so slightly. mocking you. “always wanted to wipe those pretty tears.” a thumb swipes over your cheek and he brings it up to his mouth, eyes peering down at you as he licks it from his finger. while one hand undoes his bottoms, the other one snakes its way to the back of your head, tangling into your hair, gripping it by the base.
you can’t help but flinch away when his thick throbbing cock springs free from his pants, but he’s too quick, jerking you back, forcing you to watch the pre-cum that glistens and drips from the red tinted tip that aches to fuck your holes. he strokes himself slowly, once, twice, then taps his tip against your plump lips which look like they’re made to take his girth.
“you know how long i’ve been wanting to fuck that sweet mouth?” he rasps, seeming as if he’s teasing himself with you. “didn’t imagine it happening like this,” he says it disappointedly, as if you were forcing his hand. his fingers grab the apples of your cheeks on either side, squishing them together until your lips pucker, inspecting you closely as he imagines how perfect they’d be for taking his cock.
“‘m gonna fuck that pretty face so hard… maybe it’ll stick once i’m done with you. maybe then you’ll be a good girl. isn’t that right?” then he places his hand back around his cock, drags his tip down the side of your face, leaving a slimy trail of his seed on your skin. “open your mouth.” you hesitate, feeling filthy, but comply, scared of what he might do if you don’t, but curiosity rises, wondering what it’d feel like to take him in your mouth.
he teases himself a little bit, taking a sharp inhale as he slides himself past your soft lips, fucking your mouth with short quick strokes as if he were teasing himself. your warm wet mouth wraps around him, hugging his cock tight. part of you wanted to show him how good you could be for him, how good you could make him feel, even if it wasn’t in the most appropriate way.
“oh fuck—“ he hisses, half pleasure and half surprise, slowly inching himself farther into your mouth, nearly down your throat. he was careful not to push you past your limits, but still willing to use your sweet mouth exactly how he wants to.
“y’look so good like this, pretty girl. mouth stuffed full of my cock like it’s all you’re good for.” he gazes down at you, mouth slightly agape with a wicked smirk tugging at his lips. and then you feel his grip tighten, his hand bobbing your head up and down his throbbing cock faster and faster until he’s thrusting nearly all of his length into your wet mouth. you claw and grab at his thighs as if they’d supply you with air, whimpering and moaning against the soft, velvety, veiny skin that intruded you.
“you like getting used like this angel? like a good fuckin’ slut?” he growls softly at you, like he can’t get enough, threatening to take more from you. you had no idea but at this point, but the fabric covering your sweet cunt was now drenched, aching to please him. he bit his lip, inebriated by the sight of your saliva spilling slowly from the corners of your mouth, the sounds of your moans and soft gags. he throws his head back slightly, a guttural moan escaping his lips, before looking back down at you, head cocked slightly. “doin’ so good, baby.” his grunts emphasize every time he shoves your head back onto his throbbing cock. “knew that mouth was good for somethin’, taking my cock so fuckin’ well. fuckin’ fuckk—” his tone is wicked, it lays over you like a blanket, like he owns you. and honestly, it seemed like he did, and you don’t mind not one bit.
“y’gonna swallow f’me?” he purrs, watching you in admiration for what a little whore you had become for him at work. sitting at his feet taking him all in as he used your mouth as a fuck toy, gagging and drooling all over him. the pace of his hand grew quicker, and then slower, more rugged, his hips bucking as you felt the release of his load explode inside your mouth, his moans and curses bouncing from wall to wall. he pulls out from your lips and leans down, holding your chin which is now wet with saliva that had escaped while he was pounding your head dumb. “swallow it.” he says with a curled lip, tone smooth and daring, like he had you wrapped around his finger. first he had startled you, but now you wanted to play. his pray wasn’t gonna be so easily tamed, and it wouldn’t be as fun without a fight. your eyes wander up to find his, fluttering its lashes gently, your chest rising and falling quickly still in an attempt to catch your breath. parting your lips, bringing them close together, you let his load fall from your mouth like drool down your chin and into the hand that cradled your jaw.
he stares at you in disbelief, partially because he can’t believe that you’d disobeyed him, partially because he didn’t know how much of a filthy girl you were. little did he know about the nasty things you’d imagined about him. he reaches over his desk and grabs a tissue, wiping his hand clean in a single quick swipe before turning back to you and grabbing you roughly by your neck, earning a whimper from you.
“get the fuck up,” he spits pulling you to your feet, hand still gripping your neck. by now he’s returned to sitting at the corner of his desk, cock still out and throbbing, still dripping with seed. he pulls you in between his legs, his large hand squeezing you even tighter causing you to grip his shirt desperately. “y’wanna play, huh?”
he sounds nasally now, like he’s holding something back. teetering on the idea of accepting your challenge. “look like such a whore with my cum dripping down your chin. should take a picture n make it last longer. bet you’d like that wouldn’t you?” he grits through his teeth, laughing to himself. it almost seems as if he’s kind of sizing you up, but you keep looking at him, unwavering fear now because you know he wants to play, and you wanna challenge him. he pauses, but not long enough before giving your cheek a little smack, repeating himself as if he’s looking for an answer. “wouldn’t you?” he says in a whisper, jerking you closer. he wouldn’t get much of a reply though, only a pliant nod as you were still dizzy from assault he’d done on your mouth. he then presses his wet tongue against the corner of your mouth, dragging it against your skin like a claim, as if he’s taste testing the dinner that sits before him. he licks the other side slow, making your cunt clench around air and knees fall weak. you can’t help but stiffen, the dominance lurking over you becoming crystal clear. he licks your chin clean of the mix of saliva and cum, and leans into your ear.
“‘m gonna fucking ruin you so good. you’ll learn.” he stands releasing your neck and grabs you, whipping you around until you’re facing his work space which he pushes you into. your face against the cool papers on his desk. he stands behind you, cock pressed into your rear. he wastes no time pulling up the skirt that rested on your waist, groping the fabric covered soaking mound between your soft thighs. “dirty fuckin’ girl,” he laughs at you. mockingly, slapping your cunt as if you ought to be ashamed. you jump, yelping as you try to remove yourself, but it’s no use as he’s caged you in with a hard chest. “what’s going on here, huh?” he in one motion, rips the tights that covered your lacy panties. then he starts to rub slow circles over you throbbing clit, making you twitch and whine, breathing heavier than before as you grind softly into his finger. “you like this don’t you?” he chuckles softly, like he’s coaxing you into his devilish thoughts. corrupting you. he doesn’t let you answer, it seems as though he’s more so talking to himself “this desperate pussy’s so wet f’me, just aching to be wrecked isn’t it? you like being used?” ding ding ding. you do. you like the thought of it anyway. you’d do anything for him to praise you and tell you what a good job you’re doing.
“tell me— is that what you want angel?” you nod hesitantly against the desk, making barely a whisper. “yes.” he smirks, tutting at you like you ought to be ashamed. “anyone else touched you like this before?” by now, his fingers had pushed the lace of your panties to the side, gliding up and down the glistening slick of your cunt painfully slow. he knew the answer, but asked anyway. he wanted to hear it himself. you mewled, pushing up against his fingers earning a puff of air from his nose, amusement, quickly taking your pleasure away. “ah ah, answer me baby. you answer when i speak to you.” he loved watching you writhe around under his grip, pushing your throbbing cunt toward him in desperation. “n-no, no one’s touched me before.” it was almost like a plead, a bargain. the promise of your purity in exchange for his touch. it was filthy, but the way he made your tummy twist up in knots, the way he made your pussy ache meant you’d be willing to give anything for his hands to be on you. he hums in approval.
“this pussy? it’s mine now, you understand me?” his fingers slid into you with ease, pumping quickly and rhythmically, making you squirm even more, feeling like a mouse in a sticky trap. you couldn’t help but moan more, nearly wailing with overstimulation and he finger fucked you ruthlessly. his other hand grabbed the front of your neck, pulling you forcefully into his chest, head resting on his shoulder. “you fuckin’ understand me?” he grits his teeth, and you nod again, more quickly this time. “yes, fuck- i understand.” one, two, then three fingers all at once. you started to feel tension in your stomach, unable to give anything other than moans and cries that bounced from wall to wall. you were so greedy for him, so desperate for him to touch you, you were ready to unravel in his arms and melt into him. he could feel it coming. the way your body shook, the way you tightened around his large fingers, begging and pleading for him to obliterate your sopping cunt, the one that was soaking and weeping just for him. and just as you felt yourself coming to your peak, he removed his fingers, your walls clenching around air. nothing. you sobbed softly, scooting your ass back into him trying to invite him back. he laughed wickedly into your ear, bringing his fingers up to lick you off of them.
“disobedient girls don’t get to make a mess baby. they don’t get to cum all of over my fingers.” still shaking, whimpering, barely able to hold yourself up anymore. he hushes you. “shhh sh, baby. ‘m gonna claim this needy little cunt now, yeah? gonna make a mess of you. make it mine.” he strokes himself a couple times, then suddenly your back arches and you cry out, his cock which once laid between your plump ass cheeks was now deep inside of you, all of its length, pumping roughly without warning. and there was no where to run, no matter how hard you clawed at him, at the desk. you were just a moaning melting mess. “please—“ you beg, though unsure if you were begging him to stop or keep railing into your unsuspecting pussy. he grunts in your ear, arms gripping you close as if you’d slip away if he let go. messy wet sounds and skin clapping together following suit. your mascara now running rivers down your face.
“this is what happens,” he says in between breaths, “when you don’t fuckin’ listen.” he lets your neck go and your torso collapses to the desk, his hips still grinding into you at full force. one hand finds your waist, his finger nails sinking deep into your soft skin, enough to mark and bruise. the other hand beginning to spank you. hard. over. and over. for each time you had fucked something up, hadn’t listened or disobeyed him. “is this what you need? you need to be fucked dumb so it sticks in that little head? huh?” you can’t even form words, your head feels dizzy and you’re seeing stars, so cock drunk for him. “ye- yes, pleaseee, i promise i’ll be good” you manage to say, nearly begging. “i’ll be so good.”
“what’s my name baby?” he whispers lowly, continuing to rut into you relentlessly, hands now grabbing your soft tits before releasing you and pressing you back into the desk, his large hand holding your head down against it. your breathing hitches, tensing up. you don’t know what to call him, what to say. you’re not even sure if you can say anything. he presses his weight into you, thrusting into you even harder like he’s trying to fuck the words out of you. he brushes the hair from your face, leaning into your ear, his voice soft and condescending, teasing like he knows something you don’t. you feel the crevice of his arm scoop your neck back up, now holding you against him in a headlock.
“c’monnn, angel. you know it. saw it in that little diary of yours.” you nearly jump out of your skin at the sentence, instinctively attempting to jerk yourself up in surprise, but instead you’re met with the weight of rafe on you, showing no mercy. “you fu-“ you huff out, both the surprise and weight taking the breath out of you. he abruptly pulls out of you and spins you around to face him, lifting you swiftly before placing you on the desk, where he resumes fucking you ruthlessly. this time, his dark glare burning into you, pupils blown like he’s soaking you in, memorizing every inch of your body, your face, your expressions.
“i’d watch that mouth ‘nless you want me to fuck it again.” by now you’d clearly heard what he was asking, but your mind had been consumed with the embarrassment of your dirty secrets that had been discovered non consensually. he holds you by your hair, forcing you to look at him, chest heaving, puffing. “what’s my name?” he says it more gently this time, as if to lure you into giving him the satisfaction of the title. tears still fall from your eyes, wetting your cheeks. but your gaze never leaves his, because you in fact were drinking in every inch of him too, consuming him, submitting to him. you resist some more, eyes pleading for him to not make you say it. despite having thought it so many times, it was much different then saying it to his face, especially when he had so clearly taken what he felt belonged to him anyway. he didn’t deserve it, right? wasn’t the verge of your orgasm enough? hadn’t he gotten enough from you?
“please don’t make me—“ you beg, but he’s not having any of it. he’s slowed his pace, but still fucks into you so deep you can feel his tip kissing your cervix with each stroke. “shh, shh. ‘m not gonna let you cum til you say it. wanna make sure you know. make sure it’s stuck in that empty little head.” he shakes your skull in rhythm with the last few words. “daddy…” the way it rolls off of your tongue hits rafe like a train. a flip of a switch. “fuck—, that’s right baby.“ he grits, now picking up his pace. “n’ where are your manners? you gonna thank me for teachin’ you a lesson?” his voice is a quiet, low whisper, breath ghosting your skin. by now the two of your are at the edge of your unraveling, your fingers gripping him hard enough to leave behind scratches and fallen flesh. “thank you, daddy.” you mewl, holding tight. “good. fucking. girl.” each word comes with the a thrust and then all at once you feel yourself reaching your high. you’d expect for rafe to be selfish, but no. even once he’s had his release, he’s not considering himself done until you’ve had yours. how sweet. “you’re gonna cream all over my cock, aren’t you, angel? make a mess f’me.”
you start thrusting back into him, now the both of you putting in work. and that’s how he knows, how he knows his victory is soon to arrive. “yeahhh, that’s it. don’t be shy, i wanna hear you, angel.” his voice is rough, a satisfactory snicker leaving his lips. it’s not from aggression. more so from his effort, how much work he’s putting into you. you don’t hold back as your find yourself grinding yourself back and forth on his cock like it was free use, though his thrusts slowed, they deepened until they couldn’t anymore. you were grabbing onto any part of him you could get your hands on, now babbling, begging, his new found name rolling off of your tongue like it was second nature now. finally, it came to a halt, and all he could do was wear a smirk on his lips, knowing what a mess he’d made of you. you noted that as you were getting dressed, the part of panties that were once in your possession were no longer able to be found. you gazed at him, barely opening your mouth to ask him if he’d seen them. your mouth closes immediately, his expression smug, eyes burning into you as you watch him tuck the fabric behind the pocket square resting in his suit. by now, he’s resumed the spot back in his chair, clearing his throat as if nothing happened, cold even.
“get back to work.”
—
a/n: SCREAMING...... pls let me know what you think in the comments! also feel free to send requests as well! they're open :) thank you for reading XOXO <3
Summary- Rafe has been feeling the weight of Cameron Development on his shoulders. His assistant had booked him a massage assuming that it would be good for him. Much to his dismay, it turned out to be the greatest appointment he had ever had.
Warnings- MDNI, smut (rub and tug, hand job, doggy style)
“The massage is booked tonight at 7, boss. I think it’ll be good for you. Y’know loosen up the muscles, relieve a bit of tension. No offense, but you been a bit of an ass lately.” Damian, Kelce’s younger brother, now Rafe’s assistant said to him.
Rafe threw him a stern look. “I remember what time the damn appointment is. I’ll be there.” Damian nodded and began to walk out of Rafe’s office. “Oh and Damian? Don’t think that just because you’re Kelce’s brother you can talk to me like that. I’ll have you by your neck next time.” ∘
Rafe entered the salon, checking in and grabbing the towels and robe provided to him. He was directed to the locker room and instructed to undress completely leaving him in only the towel wrapped tightly around his waist.
He made his way over to the room. Once he entered he removed his robe and got on the table faced down. He waited for about 10 min before hearing the door open and close again. He naturally moved to get up to greet you but you spoke before her could.
"Hi Mr. Cameron, I'll be taking care of you today. Don't worry about getting up, I'm used to being greeted by the backs of peoples heads."
Rafe slowly moved back to his original position. His brows furrowing at the sound of your voice. It was sweet and soft. Young, nothing like what he pictured would step into the room.
"Full body right?" you asked just to confirm.
"Uh, yeah if that's what my assistant booked." he answered trying to seem nonchalant.
"You're just gonna feel some warmth on your back from the oil, then I'll get started."
You dripped the oil along Rafe's back. The suddenness of it made him twitch, but when he felt your hands on him he melted into the feeling. God, were you skilled. You massaged every part of him, kneading out all the knots he probably had for years. He was lost in the feeling. There was no sound but the generic spa music playing in the background.
After a while, your voice broke that silence. "I'm gonna lift the towel to keep you covered and I want you to roll over onto your back."
Rafe did as he said, rolling over then leaning on his elbows to steady himself. When he looked over and locked eyes on you, his eyes widened slightly and a soft "oh" slipped from his lips. You were stunning. The person that had be practically feeling him up was stunning and now he was shy all the sudden.
You looked back at him smitten. He was a gorgeous man, chiseled jaw, abs carved by the Gods themselves, bright blue eyes. You were taken back by his beauty. There was an understanding in the stare you held on one another but neither of you said anything.
Rafe laid back down as you moved to the foot of the bed. You lifted up his towel slightly as you applied more oil to him and began working on his lower legs slowly moving your way up.
You began to knead the flesh of his thigh. Running your hands up with pressure as your knuckles graze the length of his cock. He lifted his at you and a smirked flashed across his face. After meeting his eyes, you look back down pretending to focus on your work, hiding the flush of red that grew on your cheeks.
“That ok, Mr. Cameron?” You ask teasingly.
“More than ok, sweetheart.”
With his confirmation, you continue to softly touch him. Your fingers on him in a way he couldn’t see coming. He was in big trouble once your hands went to each of his thighs and worked from the bottom up to his pelvic bone. He fought it. He really tried. Tried so hard until he couldn’t control it anymore.
In between his legs, right in your face, his cock got hard underneath the towel. You didn’t mind it, especially with how far it lifted the towel from his body.
“Enjoying yourself?”
Rafe was at a loss for words. He didn’t know what he felt. Ashamed? Embarrassed? What he did know what that you made him so fucking horny. “Abso-fuckin-lutely.”
That made you smile. Your hands slipped back under the towel. This time grabbing the shaft with 2 hands and slowly stroking him. Rafe’s jaw dropped open a moan escaping his throat. He rips the towel off himself, propping up on both elbows so that he can watch you work him.
You continue to touch him and when you start to feel him twitch against the palm of your hands, he grips your wrist forcing you to stop. “I need you.” Rafe mutter’s breathlessly.
He hops off the table and stalks over to you completely bare. You can’t keep your eyes off of him. All of him. When he reaches you on the other side of the table he grabs your waist and flips you around. You instinctively bend over it as he rubs a hand over your ass.
“This ok?”
You nod desperately. Desperate to feel him you can’t wait any longer. You reach back pulling your scrub pants down. “Eager, are we?” He chuckles behind you.
You feel the tip of his head rub against your folds before he swirls it around your clit. Your heads drops to the table as you bite your lips stifling a moan from escaping. Rafe slams his entire length into you not giving you anytime to react before he pulls out and slams into you again.
Rafe pushed up your shirt and took your bottle of oil and dripped it onto your lower back, watching the way it fell between the crack of your ass and how he pushed it into your soaked hole.
He was relentless in his thrusts and you’re pretty sure you drew blood from how hard you were biting down on your lip. You felt yourself tighten in the lower part of your stomach. Tightening around the length of his cock, before relief washes over you and your legs shook hard as you came. Rafe followed right after you.
He collapsed onto your back before regaining his composure and putting his robe back on as you pulled up your pants. “You take standing appointments?”
You smiled up at him. “Every Thursday 7:00 reserved for you, Mr. Cameron.”
