Crave
Pairing: Curtis Everett x Female!Reader Word Count: 6,259 (sorrry, I could not cut anymore without impacting the story 🫣) Summary: You were just trying to do the right thing–give someone a second chance–but as they always said: no good deed goes unpunished. Warnings: AU. Explicit language. Explicit sexual content. Soft!dark ex-con!Curtis. Reference to incarceration, gang elements, murder, attempted murder, and violence (none of this is shown). Boss/employee dynamic. Creep behavior & non con touching (not by Curtis, well, at first lolll). Slight angst. Touch starved!Curtis. Dry humping. Pre-mature ejaculation. Unprotected sex. Rough sex. Breeding kink if you squint. Simp!delulu!Curtis. Non con oral sex (f receiving). Non con sex. Cum play.
A/N: This is for the Be Mine (And Only Mine) dark simp writing challenge hosted by @darkficsyouneveraskedfor I was so excited to participate in this event. Thank you for hosting and for entertaining my screeching in your DMs about my idea lol. Hope you enjoy this! ❤️
Prompts: “I don't think you realise the hold you have on me.” + Delulu for you you + One night stand turned forever + Cums in your panties
“So, um, I guess that’s everything!” Your voice sounded overly chipper–due to your nerves–as you paused between two small square tables in the tiny dining area of your bakery.
You only had enough room for eight two-seaters, but that was fine by you. The main draw of Hearth & Honey Bakery was the breads, treats, coffee, and limited array of food stuff you produced. Which meant most of your space was reserved for the bakery cases that sat across from the dining floor, along with the various coffee and espresso machines that lined the counter along the wall.
Hearth & Honey was more of a stop and get your quick fix vs a dine in experience, but it was successful none the less–and pretty much your dream come true.
A dream that you were now sharing with your very first employee–Curtis Everett.
He loomed a few feet away, as quiet as he’d been the entire time you gave him a tour of the space–mainly the supply room and kitchen–where you would need his help the most.
The bakery was closed today, so it was just the two of you, which you thought would be a nice way to introduce Curtis to you and your business. But his quiet, intimidating demeanor was only making you more flustered by the second.
It wasn’t because he was an ex-convict, it was because he was so big and scary looking, so reserved and difficult to read. Curtis seemed a complete mismatch to your cutesy bakery, with its dark wood and black decor and bright pops of color.
But Curtis was here because you truly believed that he deserved a second chance, and on the recent one-year anniversary of your beloved aunt’s death, you decided to do something in her honor, something that would have made her so happy.
Since your aunt had spent most of her career as a therapist and advocate for the incarcerated, you decided to sign up for your state’s prison release support program–providing employment opportunities for those recently released from jail.
In addition to his new job as your assistant, you were also renting Curtis the apartment above the bakery at a discounted rate, because you wanted to help him get back on his feet as he started this new chapter of his life.
You weren’t sure what you had expected of Curtis, but you had been a little thrown when he first arrived.
Because he was gorgeous.
Tall and lean and obviously built beneath the heavy drape of his black winter coat. His face was pale and shadowed by a dark beard that made the vivid, ice blue color of his eyes pop. He was handsome, devastatingly so, and when Curtis’ wary gaze had first met your own, you felt a bolt of electricity zip up your spine.
You hadn’t recovered since.
“Do you have any questions?” you asked, clenching your hands together behind you as you twisted back and forth, unable to stand still.
“So, I’m your assistant?” Curtis muttered as he turned to face you. “What will that look like?”
“Well, I think you’ll mostly be helping me in the kitchen, prepping and baking.”
You felt your face warm as you noticed how intently Curtis was watching you, his eyes fixed on yours as you spoke, unwavering, all-seeing.
“It will be so great to have someone big and strong to lift and move the supplies, especially!” you babbled. “I’ve been bribing the supplies delivery guy with free treats and coffee to get him to store those 50-pound bags of flour in the supply room for me because there’s no way I can move them myself.”
It was subtle, but you definitely noticed the way Curtis’ eyes drifted lower, taking inventory of your stature, probably trying to picture you moving bags of flour that were bigger than you.
“Well,” he said, a slight tilt to the corner of his lips as he finally glanced away. “Not sure how much help I’ll be on the baking and prepping front, but I’m willing to learn, and if you need muscle, that I can definitely do.”
“Great! Thank you.” A sudden thought occurred to you, and you clapped your hands together excitedly, making Curtis’ gaze fly back to you. “I want to show you the apartment upstairs, but first, I have something for you!”
“For me?” he echoed in disbelief as he watched you hurry across the floor and around the counter.
“Mmhmm!” You chirped before ducking out of sight.
You made a quiet sound of effort as you rose, setting a big basket on the counter. It was filled with various food, drink, and baked treats you had spent the weekend making for Curtis.
“It’s a welcome basket!” you gave him a tentative smile as Curtis slowly moved closer, until he was looming on the other side of the counter from you, his stoic gaze lingering on the basket and its contents. “There’s a bunch of treats that I made, like cookies and pastries and some petite cakes. I also included different sandwiches and chips and threw in some packaged snacks and drinks and stuff since I wasn’t sure what you like.”
After a long, awkward moment of silence, Curtis’ eyes lifted to meet yours. There was something different about his gaze now as he watched you–it wasn’t quite warm, but it was less guarded–and it had your belly swooping sharply, then fluttering, because it was such a noticeable difference from how he looked at you before.
“You made all of this, for me?” he murmured.
You nodded, feeling unsure as your smile faltered. “Is that weird? I’m sorry if it makes you uncomfortable or–”
“No,” he cut you off so firmly, you snapped your mouth shut as you stared at him with wide eyes. “Sorry, it’s…it’s very kind. I’m just not used to that, I guess. So… thank you.”
Those last two words had so much weight behind them–were so genuine–that warmth flooded your cheeks, your own eyes falling to the counter because it was too hard to maintain Curtis’ gaze as you smiled and shrugged, “You’re welcome.”
Another stretch of awkward silence dragged on for a moment before you shook yourself, shooting Curtis a small smile as you thumbed over your shoulder, toward the hallway that led to your small office, the supply room, and the inside entrance to Curtis’ apartment.
“Ready to see your new place? It’s very lightly furnished, just the basics, so feel free to make it your own! I’m not a strict landlord, just, yanno, don’t wreck the place or anything.”
“I’ll keep the wild parties to a minimum,” Curtis deadpanned.
You giggled, watching as Curtis’ eyes warmed in a way that conveyed he was pleased that you laughed at his joke. Then you were shaking yourself again as you reached for the basket. “We can bring this up with us.”
Curtis gently tugged it from your grip, lifting it with much less effort than you had expended a moment ago. “I got it,” he said softly.
“Are you sure?”
“I’m the hired muscle, remember?” he teased.
Grinning, you nodded in agreement before turning to lead him down the hall, much more aware of Curtis’ looming presence as he followed you than you probably should have been.
As the weeks passed, both you and Curtis settled into this new routine together–him at being your bakery assistant, and you at having so much help for the first time since you opened your bakery two years ago.
You grew less nervous by Curtis’ mere presence, and he seemed to warm up to you considerably, still gruff and mostly stoic, but with these glimmers of humor and softness that seemed reserved for you.
There was also this air of protectiveness that Curtis started to exude when it came to you–which you weren’t expecting at all.
First, it was him insisting on walking you home each night, even though he lived right upstairs and was so obviously going out of his way. No matter how many times you told him it wasn’t necessary, and you’d be fine on the quick 10-minute trek, he insisted, and Curtis was stubborn enough that it wasn’t worth trying to talk him out of it.
There were also these moments when it was just the two of you–usually early in the morning or later in the evening–when you were prepping together. Now that Curtis was gaining the hang of things, he wouldn’t let you do anything strenuous, like kneading dough or lifting anything he considered too heavy for you. “You hired me for a reason, right?” he’d always remind you if you tried to object.
Something about someone so scary–an ex-con, of all people–being protective of you made your belly swoop, and in this moment, part of you yearned for Curtis and his protectiveness as you tried to encourage one of your regulars, Pete, so be on his way so you could finish closing.
But you knew that Curtis was in the kitchen, dutifully prepping all the doughs on the list you had written out this morning, and he had no idea that you had an unwanted shadow as you flipped the last chair atop its table before turning toward where you had left the broom leaning in the corner.
You pulled up short as you found Pete blocking your way–looming in your personal space and making you uncomfortable as he watched you. His expensive suit was a little rumpled since it was early evening, and it was strange seeing him this late to be honest, as he usually stopped in for his morning coffee and pastry before being on his way.
“Er, excuse me,” you chirped, shooting him a half-smile that was forced as you ducked around him and scurried to swipe up the broom.
“I know I’m in your way,” Pete drawled as he tucked his hands into his pockets and continued to stand in the middle of the dining floor, watching you work. “But I have something I want to ask you.”
All you wanted was to finish up so that you could go home and collapse after such a long day, but you shook off that thought, reminding yourself that it was because of regulars like Pete that your business was successful.
“What’s that?” you murmured as you continued to diligently sweep, ignoring Pete’s heavy gaze as he watched you without reserve.
“Go out with me,” he said in that casual way of his, his statement not much of a question at all.
You froze, glancing up at him with wide eyes.
He gave you a smile that was more of a smirk as he sauntered closer. “Come on, sweetie. One date.”
Feeling your face warm and your insides flip unpleasantly–because you hated confrontation–you gathered your courage, giving Pete a kind smile as you replied, “Um, that’s so sweet of you to ask, but I don’t date customers, I’m sorry.”
Your eyes caught a glimpse of his frown before you quickly looked away, turning your back to him as you returned to sweeping the floor.
There was a long, drawn out moment of silence that felt suffocating, and then you squeaked as you suddenly felt a warm press at your back, and two big hands framing your hips, pinning you against the nearest table.
“I think I’m more than just a customer,” Pete purred against the curve of your jaw.
You shuddered as his nose skimmed along your warm cheek and you could feel the way his chest expanded as he noisily inhaled the scent of you with a quiet groan.
“Pete, please…” you trembled, trying to elbow him away.
But he only pressed closer. “Come on, let me wine and dine you,” Pete insisted, pushing flush against your back in a way that made you feel violated. “We can get to know each other better. Maybe indulge in some dessert that doesn’t come from a restaurant, if you catch my drift.”
His hands squeezed your hips before one wandered around. It trailed along your belly, making you jerk and try to recoil as your brain began to cloud with fear.
“I really don’t think that’s a good idea,” you quavered, dropping the broom and trying to twist away from Pete’s grip.
“I think it’s a great idea,” Pete countered, his touch skimming higher, along your sides–overly familiar in a way that made bile burn at the back of your throat–as you cowered and tried to curl in on yourself with a whimper. “The best idea I’ve ever had–”
Pete’s words suddenly turned into a grunt as he was violently yanked away from you.
Gasping, you spun around, eyes big with shock as you watched Curtis snarl, “She said no,” as he bodily propelled Pete away from you and across the bakery toward the exit.
“Man, fuck off and mind your business,” Pete tried–and failed–to struggle out of Curtis’ grip.
“Oh, I am,” Curtis growled, his smile more of a sneer as he opened the front door and threw Pete outside.
His voice lowered, and you couldn’t hear what he said to Pete, but whatever it was had the other man paling considerably, his throat bobbing as he swallowed hard before turning and practically running away.
Your heart rate was just starting to slow as Curtis pulled the door shut. He locked it and flipped the sign to Closed before turning off the overhead lights to dissuade anyone else from trying to come inside now that you were closed.
He turned and slowly walked toward you, something about his gait cautious, like he was approaching a spooked animal. That ever watchful gaze of his took inventory of you and the way you were still trembling as you struggled to meet his eyes while you fought back tears.
“You okay?” His voice was a soft rumble, the familiar sound soothing and instantly making your hitched shoulders drop away from your ears.
“Y-yeah, I’m fine,” you replied, your voice too high–unnatural–and making you wince.
Curtis watched you for a beat, quiet, unsure of what to say, before crouching to pick up the broom from the floor. He turned and leaned it against the wall before his concerned gaze once again found you.
“Come on, let’s make some tea. You like that lavender chamomile blend when it’s later at night, right?”
You blinked at him, gobsmacked. “How did you know that?”
His lips curled, but he didn’t answer your question. “Come on,” he said again, his voice softer than before as he touched a hand to your hip and urged you toward the brewing equipment. “I can take care of sweeping before we head out.”
You didn’t argue as you stepped behind the counter, hugging yourself tightly as Curtis set about making your tea.
There was something so soothing about watching him and the confident way in which he moved. Of course you knew that he tended to join you behind the counter during the morning and lunch time rushes to help you knock out orders, but you were always too busy to really watch him or the way he worked.
But right now, it felt almost intimate, watching Curtis make you a cup of tea to help calm your nerves.
His hands were big and rough and sure, his arm muscles flexing as he moved. His body was so tall and broad and took up so much space, but not in a way that felt intimidating–in a way that made you feel safe, especially after what just happened with Pete.
At last, Curtis turned to you, his eyes still shining with worry as he offered you the steaming mug.
“Relax for a few minutes while I finish sweeping,” he told you. “I also squirreled away some of today’s sandwich specials for us so neither of us would need to cook dinner after a long day.”
That made you smile, it always did when Curtis appreciated your culinary skills. And he was once again taking care of you in some way–even something as simple as thinking of you and how tired you’d be and making sure you had a good meal to go home to.
“Thank you, Curtis, for everything,” you murmured as you carefully cradled the mug of tea to your chest. Your eyes were soft as they met his. “You’re so good to me.”
You saw the hint of something intense flare in Curtis’ gaze as he watched you, but it was gone before you could process and identify it. His lips curled into the slightest of smiles as he said, “You were good to me first.”
Then he gave you a small nod and moved past you, but not before his big hand touched your shoulder–gave it a soft squeeze that made your insides feel alive and vibrant in a new way–a way that stuck with you for the entire rest of the evening.
A week or so later, it was an errant, inappropriate thought as you watched Curtis during closing time–that he looked so good in his simple white tee and jeans beneath a black Hearth & Honey Bakery apron.
Your eyes lingered once again on his arm muscles, on his big, rough hands, as he kneaded the last batch of dough, and you couldn’t help but wonder what those hands would feel like touching you–really touching you–not just a stray shoulder squeeze or to keep you in place as he moved behind you to grab something.
You weren’t quick enough to school your features before Curtis glanced at you, going still at the way you watched him–the moment charged like so many other moments between you and Curtis had been as of late.
His eyes locked on your guilty ones before flickering down to your lips for the briefest millisecond, and you felt your insides swoop then throb before you squeaked about grabbing your things before scurrying back to your office.
Things felt less charged and intense a little while later as Curtis walked you home, and given the way your dynamic had changed–the way the two of you had become closer–you couldn’t help but finally ask a question that had been on your mind since you met him.
“I know we’ve never talked about it, and I don’t want to pry, but I just…can’t help but wonder why you were locked up for so long. You’re just so kind and protective, it’s hard to imagine you being a convict.”
Curtis remained silent for so long, that you were afraid you had offended him and made him angry. When you peeked over at him, it was to find him staring straight ahead–avoiding your gaze–his sharp jaw tense and ticking under your observation.
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked,” you started to back track, but Curtis shook his head, finally turning your way.
“No, you have every right to ask considering you spend most of your time with me.”
He went quiet again, the silence dragging on between the two of you, and then Curtis started to speak–to quietly confess–keeping his eyes firmly away from you as he answered your question.
He told you how he had been in a gang since he was a pre-teen. How he had talked his step-brother, Edgar, into joining too. How the two of them were inseparable. How Edgar idolized him. How when Curtis was twenty, and Edgar was seventeen, he'd been brutally murdered by a rival gang–and how Curtis had nearly beaten his brother’s killer to death with his bare hands.
“I wanted to. Kill him. For taking Edgar from me,” Curtis muttered as he paused just outside of your home. He kept his gaze away from you–distant–as he continued. “I wanted to kill him for drawing it out and making Edgar suffer. Despite being in a gang, he was a sweet kid. He didn’t deserve what was done to him. I made it easy for the DA to charge me with attempted murder, for the judge to give me twenty to life, and now here we are–I wasted half my life behind bars, and Edgar’s still gone.”
“God, Curtis, I’m so sorry,” your voice trembled with the tears you tried to blink back as you watched him.
You couldn’t even imagine what he had been through. He’d been so young and lost so much, and had paid a very severe price for the way he grieved his loss–for his need for vengeance.
It felt like a reflex you couldn’t deny as you moved toward Curtis and pressed close, wrapping him in a hug. He was rigid for a few seconds before you felt the tension ease from his body as he tentatively wrapped his arms around you and returned your embrace.
Curtis’ body heat enveloped you completely, and you could feel the warm press of his hands through your coat as he touched your back, tugging you closer. His head dipped, his nose sinking into your hair, and his big body wracked with an intense shudder that left him trembling against you–overwhelmed by touching and being touched by another for the first time in years.
You just hugged him tighter, burying your face against the front of his coat–knowing the dark material soaked up the few tears you couldn’t blink back as you held him until he finally straightened and shifted away.
“I’m sorry,” Curtis’ voice was rough, his eyes shining as he sniffed hard, avoiding your soft gaze.
“You don’t need to be sorry.”
“You should get inside,” Curtis rumbled. “It’s cold out here, and I’m sure you’re tired.”
As he went to step away from you fully, you went with him. You weren’t sure what made you do it, but you just needed him to look at you–to look into your eyes and know that his truth hadn’t changed anything for you.
Before your brain caught up with your movements, you framed Curtis’ face between your hands and tilted his gaze to meet yours.
“Thank you for telling me,” you whispered before kissing his bearded cheek.
And maybe it was the way Curtis’ breath hitched at the innocent kiss that had you lingering close, that had your fingers twitching against his beard as you breathed the same air, your lips hovering mere inches from his as your eyes met his and found his gaze dark and wanting.
You didn’t know who moved first, but suddenly you and Curtis were kissing. You could feel his fingers tremble as they touched your face, not quite cradling so much as tentatively touching–like he was making sure you were real, that this was real.
Curtis drank from your mouth like he hadn’t quenched his thirst in years–and you supposed that was true in a sense. As his tongue touched yours, a primal groan spilled from his lips to yours, and you kissed him more eagerly, consumed entirely by his obvious desire for you.
You had no idea how the two of you made it inside your place with your mouths still fused together so passionately, but suddenly you were in your bed–as naked as Curtis–as he pinned you to your mattress with his weight and kissed you with a hunger that literally stole your breath away.
You gasped, desperate for oxygen between frantic kisses, your cunt weeping an endless river as you felt Curtis rut against you eagerly. His cock was hard and trapped against your belly, the dribble of his pre-cum making a sticky mess against your skin, but it was the kind of mess you reveled in, and a distant part of you committed to spending the entire night getting filthy with Curtis.
There was such a frenetic energy to Curtis as he moved over you–kissed you without relent–his hands touching every inch of you that he could trap beneath his fingers.
You touched his face with purpose, firmly framing his cheeks as you pulled away and met his dark, dazed gaze. “It’s okay, I’m here,” you whispered. “I’m right here with you, Curtis.”
He made a strangled sound in the back of his throat as he dropped his forehead to yours, curling an arm over the top of your head. Almost mindlessly, he rutted against you, gasping in ragged breaths before he rocked against your belly more urgently with a long broken groan.
You felt warm, sticky ribbons of cum spurt along your torso, gasping in surprise at just how quickly you had unraveled him. Biting back a giggle at Curtis’ humiliated groan, you gently pet along his head as he hid his face against the crook of your neck, your free hand smoothing up and down the warm curve of his back.
“It’s okay,” you whispered as you cupped his side.
Heaving a ragged breath, Curtis eased away so he could meet your gaze. His face was flushed pink, his eyes still dilated and his features sheepish as he mumbled, “I don’t usually do that. It’s just…been a really long time for me.”
“I don’t mind,” you assured him. “There’s no rush. This is nice too,” you said, tipping your face up to catch his lips in another kiss, keeping this one slow and savoring and much less frantic than before.
When you let your lips trail away from Curtis’ lips, pressing kisses all over his handsome face and giggling while you did so, his eyes softened. The tension eased from his shoulders as he watched you with something that was so much more than fondness it made your chest flutter and expand.
“I’ve never met anyone like you,” Curtis whispered, voice tinged with awe as his fingers carefully caressed your cheek.
The way Curtis looked at you made you feel like the most special and beautiful person in the world, and it was addictive, being under that kind of admiration. It was overwhelming, too, and a part of you wanted to hide as much as you wanted to bask in Curtis’ attention, so you tugged him in for another round of eager kisses to split the difference.
With each quiet grunt and primal groan that you drank from Curtis’ mouth, you grew more wet. Hitching your knees around his hips, you tugged him against you more firmly, and now you were the one desperately rutting against him, seeking more.
When your hand found Curtis’ cock, he gave a sharp gasp, his hips jerking into your grip as he pulled away so he could watch you. His eyes were so dark now they looked unnatural, his lips cherry pink and parted as you slowly began to stroke him, your eyes fixed on his.
He made a quiet “hnnngh” sound when your thumb swiped over his tip, smearing the pre-cum along his head before you guided him to your entrance. There was an intensity in Curtis’ gaze that you had never experienced before–his eyes so avid and heavy-lidded as he watched you as he slowly sank into you, inch by inch.
Your breath hitched on a muffled moan as his thick cock stretched you open, gliding against your warm, tight walls until he was settled to the hilt and groaning as you clamped around him hard.
“You feel so good,” Curtis breathed, his hand gentle as he cupped your cheek and shifted his hips enough to make you gasp.
“So do you,” you whispered, tilting your hips in silent encouragement.
Curtis was slow and tentative at first, keeping his thrusts shallow. You weren’t sure if he was afraid to hurt you, or afraid of not being buried as deep inside of you as possible, but regardless, you couldn’t suppress a whine as you writhed beneath him, desperate.
“Give me more, Curtis,” you pleaded, rocking up against him and making him moan. “You won’t break me. I wanna feel you. Make me feel you. Make me take it.”
“Fuck,” Curtis droned, dropping his forhead against yours. Blindly, he reached for your hand with his free one, until your palms were as flush as your bodies and he could lace his fingers through yours, squeezing tight.
It was all the warning you got before his hips retreated until just the head of him stretched your hole, then he shoved inside of you hard and deep, trapping your broken keen against his lips as he really started to fuck you.
There was a feral air to him now as Curtis pounded you into the mattress, his mouth parted and hanging open as he greedily drank you in, grunting every time he was gifted a new sweet sound spilling past your tempting lips.
“More!” you begged, head falling back and eyes rolling as you groped along Curtis’ bare ass with your free hand, spreading your legs wider and shoving up into the relentless plowing of his hips.
With a quiet snarl, Curtis went at you even harder–faster–making your bed creak as the headboard slammed into the wall, emphasizing the tempo of your ruin.
When Curtis’ hand fell away from your sweaty cheek so he could caress along your belly before rubbing circles along your clit, your climax detonated within you, sending tremors of pleasure erupting from your core and rattling through the rest of your body as you gave a ragged, broken keen of ecstasy.
It was that sound of visceral annihilation that broke Curtis, that sent him hurdling over the edge along with you. Burying his face against your neck and greedily inhaling your scent, he gave a wrecked shout as he came, his hips moving with a different purpose now–not to fuck you but to fill you, with every last drop of his cum.
You were still gasping for breath as Curtis collapsed against you, keeping his face tucked against your neck as he trembled and clung to you like he was afraid you would suddenly disappear.
Trailing your fingers along his back, you touched Curtis so gently, with a quiet knowing that this man was so beyond touch-starved, and you could give him the comfort and reprieve he needed–that he deserved.
“You’re so gorgeous,” he rasped as he finally pulled away so he could see your face. “So perfect. I could stay lost in your forever,” he murmured as he gently stroked your cheek.
Your smile was warm and a little shy as you leaned into his touch. “Let’s start with tonight,” you told him, reeling him in for a soft kiss before encouraging him to settle against you.
Your body still thrummed, impossibly sated, as Curtis laid his warm, stubbled cheek against your chest. As you drifted off to sleep, it was with a small smile curling your lips and not a care in the world…
Or any idea that Curtis tipped his head up, his eyes even more fervent than before–devoted and possessive–as he watched you sleep.
For hours and hours.
You tensed as you heard Curtis enter the bakery kitchen, and you hated that your body had that reaction to him.
But in the days following your night together, he had been so intense–so unprofessional–and you were starting to regret sleeping with him.
Starting to panic over it, too.
You were his boss, and it was so unprofessional of you to allow these lines to be crossed. Especially since you knew Curits was in a vulnerable position as he started to rebuild his life post-incarceration. You knew he needed this job, and you felt like you had taken advantage of him, no matter how unintentional.
You did care about him. You tended to care about everyone, and you had so much empathy for Curtis, and appreciated him and how he helped you so much.
But you didn’t like the way that he kept cornering you at work, stealing stray kisses and touches–even in front of customers–that made your face burn hot and ashamed.
This wasn’t how you wanted to run your business. This wasn’t the type of boss you wanted to be.
So as you heard Curtis approach you as you paused in your early morning prep, you steeled yourself, knowing that you had to speak up.
You had to set some boundaries to salvage this experience for you both.
The fact that Curtis pressed close to your back, his hands framing your hips as he kissed your cheek, only solidified your decision. He was treating you like a committed partner, like the two of you were dating, and it was so obvious that you were not on the same page here.
“Good morning,” he hummed, his voice smoky and warm and making your belly flutter even though you wished it wouldn’t.
“Hey,” you murmured, taking a deep breath before turning in his embrace. You felt yourself wilt under Curtis’ watchful gaze–which had this new glint to it that you couldn't quite decipher but it made your insides skitter and flutter all at once. “Curtis… we need to talk.”
You watched as his features shifted from a warm kind of openness to shuttered and stoic–indifferent–as his shoulders hitched ever so slightly, his jaw ticking with tension.
And you felt awful.
He had already been through so much and you didn’t want to hurt him. You were so mad at yourself for screwing this all up that you couldn’t help it as your eyes filled with tears and your nose burned along with them.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, his voice soft despite the wariness now shadowing his gaze.
“Look, I,” your voice broke and you shook your head, sniffing back your tears as you forced your eyes to meet his. “I think we just need to pump the brakes a little, okay? That night was… great, but I’m your boss, and I just…I shouldn’t have let that happen, and I’m so sorry for–”
“No,” Curtis snapped so sharply, you recoiled from him on instinct.
He sighed, gently petting your hips as he took a deep breath, “You don’t need to be sorry. All of this happened for a reason. We’re meant to be together.”
“Curtis,” you feebly tried to interrupt him, but he stubbornly spoke over you.
“Out of all the program assignments I could have gotten, I was placed with you. I know that was for a reason and… and you’ve become my everything, the bright light at the end of a really dark tunnel that I didn’t think I’d make it through.”
You couldn’t help it as a few tears spilled over, feeling more horrible and helpless by the second.
Curtis shushed you, his touch so soft as he swiped away your tears. “When you know, you know, and I know you’re it for me.” He shifted closer to you, his hands rounding your hips and sliding along your back, urging your body flush to his as he whispered your name. “I don't think you realise the hold you have on me. We’re meant for each other, I know it. I’ll show you.”
You opened your mouth to object, but you weren’t quick enough, squeaking instead when Curtis kissed you hard–hungrily–like he had something to prove and he was determined to do so. He didn’t pull away until you were gasping for breath, sagged back against the metal prep table and dazed as you stared at him.
“I’ll show you,” he husked as something sparked to life in his dark gaze.
You shuddered, squealing as Curtis suddenly spun you around and bent you over the counter.
“Curtis, no–” you started, whining as he roughly pulled down your pants and panties in one go.
It was shameful, the way he could so easily make you wet, just a few brushes of his fingers along your cunt, a few teasing circles around your hole, and you were dripping for him as you buried your face against your arms to hide.
Curtis shoved your legs apart as much as he could with your pants and underwear still tangled around your knees, and you moaned into your arms as he shoved his face against you from behind and devoured your cunt like it was his own personal feast.
You came embarrassingly fast, trembling hard as Curtis hummed against your slick folds and lapped up your cum.
Too boneless to move, let alone resist, you could only whimper as you felt him stand and press against you, lining his cock up and shoving inside of you to the hilt and groaning as you whimpered.
“I need to show you,” he panted as he started to fuck you with a feral edge that toed the line of pain. “That you were meant for me.” He shoved into you hard and deep, taking you up onto your toes. “That I love you.” Another rough, determined thrust that made you whine even as your pussy rejoiced and fluttered wildly.
Curtis curled over you, clinging to you as his hips pounded against your ass, as he filled you with his cock over and over again–fucking you like a man possessed–making you take every hard, throbbing inch of him without reprieve.
“You’re mine. You’re mine,” he snarled, nipping at your earlobe, then groaning as you came with a helpless keen and a fresh wave of tears. “See, your body knows it already.”
A few more harsh ruts of his hips, and Curtis reached his own release with a groan. You sniffled as you felt the first wave of his spend filling you up, and then he pulled out of you, painting your slick, puffy cunt with a few ribbons of cum before spilling the rest into the gusset of your panties.
For a long moment, it was silent–the heavy, suffocating kind that even drowned out the static filling your ears.
Then Curtis pushed away from you, putting himself back together before his hands touched your bare hips, giving a possessive squeeze. He leaned over you, pressing a kiss to your tear-stained cheek before tugging up your pants and panties.
He patted between your legs, making it impossible to ignore the fact that your underwear was filled with his cum and sticking to you uncomfortably.
Curtis was gentle as he helped you straighten, turning you around to face him so he could steal a soft kiss from your lips. “Now those donuts you made won’t be the only thing stuffed with cream today,” he teased, giving you a wink before stepping away.
You watched in a kind of shocked daze as he turned and easily lifted the large tray of donuts from the counter across from you. Curtis’ smile was playful and in complete contrast with the dark, predatory look in his eyes as he watched you, almost like he was daring you to start talking your nonsense again.
You didn’t.
Instead, you shuddered as you hugged yourself tightly, your gaze falling away from his as you tried not to cry.
“I’ll go set these in the case, and then I’ll be back to help you with the breads, okay?”
“Okay,” you nodded, still staring at the floor as you felt the weight of Curtis’ gaze on you.
He shifted closer, making a pleased sound before pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Good girl,” he murmured against your skin before he turned and strode from the room.
Leaving you trembling in his wake, feeling numb and out of place in your own kitchen as you grimaced at the feel of Curtis’ cum filling your panties–marking you as his.
I meeean, look. Look. I’m here for him 😌 He’s just a smitten kitten. Let him love you!
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