After seven months apart, Jax is finally back home from prison, and even though you and he would never get that time back, he was determined to make you forget all about it.
Just Another Girl 💋
You’ve known Jax your whole life, and not once had he ever made you feel inferior or unimportant - just the exact opposite. You were on cloud 9 when you discover that your feelings for him were very much mutual, until you overhear a conversation with Clay that has you questioning every minute you’ve ever spent with him.
Where You Left Me 💕💋
When you suddenly start to distance yourself from Jax, he’s left wondering what he could’ve possibly done wrong that would make you not want to be around him. But after a party, Ope tells him something that has alarm bells going off in his head, and he finally starts to connect the dots.| Part 2 of JAG.
Thigh’s the Limit 🔥
After a pretty serious accident, Jax is left bedridden at home, where he is given excellent care from his wife. But when weeks go by and he still can’t give you the pounding you deserve for putting up with him, he gives you the next best thing.
Night With A Showgirl 🔥
Halloween was just another day to the guys of SAMCRO, though it meant the girls who frequent the clubhouse could dress up in the most revealing outfits and no one would question it. Luckily for Jax, you go all out, and luckily for you, Jax had never been able to keep his hands off you, especially when you dress up for him.
The Married Life 🔥
Jax never thought he could ever be a one woman kind of guy, much rather preferring to spend the night with girls that didn’t expect anything else from him. He never thought he’d get married, but then he met you, and his entire perspective changed almost instantly, and all he wanted to do now was be with his wife all the time.
Changed Like Midnight 💋🔥
Jax had been chasing after you for years, wanting nothing more than to be with you since the day he met you, and when you finally give him a chance to prove himself, someone from his past threatens to destroy it completely.
Life of The Party 🔥
During one of the clubhouse’s many parties, you and Jax sneak away after you can’t keep your hands off each other, and end up in the cramped bathroom. Despite the limited space, Jax still knows your body better than anything else, and he knows exactly what to do to make you fall apart.
Saved By The Biker 💕💋
After a very boring and lackluster date, you swallow your pride and call Jax, your ex, and ask him to pick you up. Instead of being obnoxious and mean about it, he surprises you by not only coming through and helping you out, but also revealing a few things that have you questioning how you and he ended up where you were before tonight.
At The Table 🔥
Not only is Jax your new husband, but he is also the new President of SAMCRO. Even though he’s busier now than ever before, he’d never deny his wife the thing he promised is yours forever, nor would he deny giving you a ride on the President’s chair.
It Won’t Break Us 💕💋
Jax has been so busy with the club lately, you feel like you hardly see your husband at all. When he comes home and barely says a word to you, the stress both of you had been feeling comes out in the form of a nasty fight that leaves you both sleeping alone. But, despite the harsh words you exchanged with each other, neither of you liked being too far away, especially in your own home.
The Kitchen Table 🔥
Your morning in bed with Jax gets interrupted by club business, and after a long day spent barely staying in control of himself, he finally gets to pick up where you and he left off, this time on the kitchen table.
Series/Multi-Parts
King Teller Series 💕💋🔥
Jax is the King of Charming, and you’re his Queen.
12 Days of Jaxmas 💕💋🔥
A collection of (mostly) Christmas themed fics.
Just Give Me A Reason Series 💕💋🔥
You and Jax are high school sweethearts and are given a second chance at love after spending the last eight years apart, but a lot can happen in eight years, and even though it’s clear you and he are meant to be together, it’s hard to let go of the past.
RAYMOND SMITH
Middle of the Night 💋🔥
Yours and Ray’s relationship has always been complicated, right up from the moment you met, to each time you and he briefly see each other throughout the years. Though he wants more, yours and his lives are too different right now, but when you confide in him about your troubles, he suddenly doesn’t care about the very real consequences of having a more permanent place in each other’s lives.
WILLIAM MILLER
The Space Between a Rock and a Hard Place 💕💋
Will goes on one last mission with the guys, a seemingly simple one, but it turns out to be much worse than anything they’d ever done before. When everything you and he built together is suddenly threatened, Will does the last thing he thought he’d ever do.
Pairing: Raymond Smith x f!Reader
Word Count: 6k
Summary: Ray starts your birthday with his full attention, only for you to realize he has been planning far more than you expected.
Warnings: 18+ ONLY!!! explicit sexual content, minors DNI; reader is described as having hair, established relationship, unprotected p in v sex - be responsible!, praise, romance, emotional intimacy, soft feels
A/N: another trip around the sun! 🥳 today is my birthday, so naturally I had to write something completely self-indulgent and make it everyone else’s problem. this one is soft, filthy, romantic, and entirely built around the kind of birthday morning I personally think we all deserve. Raymond Smith, the man that you are. 🥰 divider cred to the endlessly talented @saradika-graphics ✨All feedback (reblogs, comments, likes) is much appreciated and encouraged!!✨ Enjoy babes! 🩷
The first thing you felt was Ray’s mouth against your shoulder.
A press of lips to sleep-soft skin, the slight scrape of his beard as he lingered, just enough to make your body notice before your mind had fully caught up. You stirred beneath him, drifting somewhere between sleep and waking, still slow to understand anything beyond the weight of his hand at your waist and his mouth moving lazily along your neck.
A shiver went through you, starting right where his mouth touched and traveled outward, raising tiny bumps along your arms. Ray felt it. You knew he did in the way his hand settled more firmly at your waist, by the brief pause of his lips against your skin, as if that small betrayal of your body had pleased him more than any answer you could have given.
The room was still dim; the kind of grey-blue morning light that came before the city had fully woken. Too early for your birthday. Too early for anything that required being conscious, really, unless it involved staying exactly where you were, tangled in expensive sheets with Ray’s mouth at your neck.
“Mmm,” you breathed in protest, eyes still closed.
“I know,” he murmured against your shoulder. “Too early.”
His voice was lower than usual, softened at the edges in a way only you ever got to hear. No careful composure standing between him and the world. Just Ray, solid and bare behind you, his palm smoothing over your hip after what must have been a while spent awake, deciding that if he had to pull you from sleep before a civilized hour, he was going to make it worth waking for.
You smiled faintly into the pillow. “Is it?”
“For you?” His lips brushed the shell of your ear. “Tragically.”
The sensation made you squirm before you could stop yourself, your chin tucking toward your shoulder as a tiny giggle slipped out of you, breathy and still half-asleep. Ray’s arm held you close, keeping you tucked against him while his mouth followed the movement, kissing along the side of your neck where he knew you were sensitive.
“So why are you waking me up?”
“Because we have somewhere to be.”
That should have made you suspicious. It would have, if his mouth hadn’t moved lower again, pulling a shallow breath from you while every other thought scattered before you could hold onto it.
“Somewhere can wait,” you mumbled.
Ray’s breath touched your neck, and you felt the faint curve of his mouth against your skin. “Not indefinitely.”
He kissed the spot where your pulse had quickened, trailing back toward your jaw as though he had all the time in the world, despite whatever plans he was keeping from you. His hand moved from your waist to your hip and back again, a steady, reassuring touch that made you relax against him.
“You sound like a man with plans.”
“I am a man with plans.”
“On my birthday?”
“For your birthday.”
You meant to open your eyes at that, but his touch, so gentle and deliberate, distracted you before you could. Ray had never been careless with you, not with his hands, not with his affection, not with the pieces of himself he gave so gradually—so carefully—that you sometimes forgot how much he had already handed over.
His fingers traced over of your stomach, lower now, possessive without being demanding. His mouth found the side of your throat again, lingering there while he drew you closer, your back fitting against his broad chest. The sound he made rumbled through him and into you, barely heard but impossible to miss. Your body answered before you were awake enough to pretend otherwise, hips shifting into the cradle of his palm as a sleepy little sound slipped from your throat.
Your eyes finally opened, though the world stayed small for one last breath, held between Ray’s hand on your body, his mouth at your skin, and the solid shape of him behind you. Slowly, your gaze drifted toward the nightstand, landing on the fresh bouquet waiting there in a simple glass vase.
Your favorite flowers, full and lovely without feeling staged, arranged with smaller blooms in colors you loved. The stems were gathered with a satin ribbon tied neatly around the middle, simple and exact in a way that felt unmistakably like him. He hadn’t chosen the biggest arrangement or the most expensive, only the right one.
His lips brushed your shoulder again, his voice low and close enough to send a swoop through your belly.
“Happy birthday, darling.”
The words settled over you, not an announcement so much as a touch all their own. You blinked at the bouquet, at the ribbon around the stems, at the exact colors he had chosen, and your chest gave a helpless little squeeze before you could stop it.
“Oh,” you whispered.
Ray’s hand stilled against your stomach.
You turned your head enough to look at him. His eyes were already on you, blue and unguarded without his glasses, clearer in the morning light as he watched for your reaction with the satisfaction of a man who had been looking forward to this moment far more than he would ever admit aloud.
“You got my favorite flowers.”
“Of course.”
The answer was so simple that it caught somewhere beneath your ribs. He said it so easily, remembering the shape of your joy as though it required no effort at all, because to Ray, there had never been any other option but to know you that well.
You blinked, emotion rising before you could stop it, and Ray’s expression shifted immediately. His hand came up to your face, knuckles brushing gently along your cheek.
“No tears yet,” he said softly. “It’s barely begun.”
“Yet?”
His mouth curved, pleased in the private way that made your chest ache. “You’ll need to pace yourself.”
You huffed a small laugh, but he caught it with his mouth before it could fully leave you, his lips gentle at first before turning firmer when you angled into him in an effort to get closer. The faint scrape of his beard brushed over your mouth as his tongue slid against yours, coaxing you open with that same careful intent he brought to everything else. The kiss deepened naturally, familiar and devastating all at once.
Your hands found him beneath the sheets, sliding over his shoulders, his chest, anywhere you could reach as he drew you in and settled over you. Bare skin met bare skin, his heartbeat steady beneath your palm, the weight of him enough to make the rest of the room fall away.
He kissed you like he could feel every little place you gave in to him, the surrender of your mouth, the lift of your hips, the gasp you tried to swallow when his tongue moved deeper.
Ray had woken you with his mouth on your skin, with flowers waiting on the nightstand, and now he seemed intent on making this the first real gift of the day too, the thorough pleasure of being loved until there was nothing left in your head but him.
You sighed against his mouth as the hard length of him pressed between your thighs, and Ray drew back only enough to see you, close enough that his breath still touched your lips. His hair was mussed from your fingers, his eyes gone a shade deeper now, the blue sharpened by want as he looked over your face.
You could feel how badly he wanted you, the thick press of him against your slick skin, restrained only because he knew you liked the slow ruin of it all.
His palm pressed into your leg as he eased it higher over his hip, opening you to him more. Ray noticed the eager tilt of your hips, the way you opened wider around him, the involuntary pull of your breath when he dragged the blunt head of his cock through the needy wet of you.
He didn’t rush to give you what you wanted. Instead, he slid through your cunt with maddening control, brushing over your clit just enough to make your body tense beneath him before easing back, drawing the want out until it bloomed deep and aching.
Your fingers tightened in his hair, your mouth parting beneath his when the next pass stole the air from your lungs. Ray kissed you through it, lips plush, tongue coaxing, the faint shape of his smile brushing yours when your hips lifted to chase him.
He knew. And that was the infuriating part. He knew exactly what he was doing to you—from the tremor in your legss and the way your breath thinned when he teased the head of his cock against your entrance without pushing in. His hand settled at your hip, keeping you close as he gave you just enough pressure to make your body flutter around nothing, pulling back before you could take him.
“Ray,” you whined, half warning, half plea.
His mouth brushed the corner of yours, pleased and far too satisfied. “I know.”
His eyes stayed on your face while he teased you, the last of his composure held together by sheer will and the pleasure he took in watching yours unravel.
“You’re impatient this morning,” he noted, voice low against your mouth.
“You woke me up,” you protested, your bottom lip pushing out in a sleepy pout.
“I did.”
“So do something about it.”
That pulled a rough sound from him, more want than amusement. His fingers pressed into your hip as he kissed you again, stealing the rest of your complaint while he settled against your entrance.
Your pout vanished into a trembling exhale as he finally sank into you, and Ray stayed close enough to take the sound into his mouth. He watched you through it, eyes fixed on your face as your lips parted and your lashes fluttered as your body adjusted around him. He took his time, almost cruel in his patience, making sure you felt every inch of him.
“Christ,” he groaned, the word barely making it out.
Your legs locked around his hips as he pressed deeper, taking his time until he was fully inside you. His eyes shut while he steadied himself, the polished control he carried so easily everywhere else thinning to almost nothing at the wet, heated feel of you around him.
You shifted just enough to take him deeper, and his whole body went taut. Another rough sound caught in his throat, his mouth brushing yours without quite kissing you. He had teased you for so long, made you needy for him, but now that he had you, now that he was buried inside you and fighting himself for patience, the waiting was ruining him too.
Your hands slid over his back, feeling the flex of muscle beneath your touch as he finally rolled his hips into you with enough purpose to sink you deeper into the sheets and pull a broken sound from your throat.
Ray did it again, finding a rhythm that narrowed the world to his body over yours and the delicious drag of his cock inside you. His chest pressed to yours, his mouth moved from your lips to your cheek, your jaw, your throat, kissing wherever he could reach as his composure started to fray.
You felt everything he gave—his weight over you, the flex of his hips and all the rough little sounds he made whenever you clenched around him. Each thrust reached deep enough to scatter whatever thoughts you had left, and when your nails dragged down his back, his pace faltering briefly before he caught himself.
“Sweetheart,” he breathed against your neck.
Your hips titled to meet him, and the change in angle made your mouth fall open, pleasure flashing brightly behind your eyes. Ray felt you tighten around him, felt the tremor move through you, your nails pressing into his back as you tried desperately to keep him right there.
His grip shifted lower on your thigh, guiding you into him while he did it again.
“There?” he asked, though the look on his face said he already knew.
You nodded, too far gone to make it graceful, begging him not to move away from that spot.
Ray pressed into you deeper this time, his control thinning with every sound he drew out of you. He’d always known how to make restraint feel filthy, how to make patience its own kind of indulgence.
His touch moved down your side, over the dip of your waist and the curve of your hip, fingers pressing there to pull you into the next thrust. His eyes stayed on you, hunger cutting through the last of his composure as your body drew around him again.
“Darling,” he groaned against your throat. “You have no idea what you do to me.”
The praise went through you in a swirling rush, your cunt closing around him hard enough to pull the air from his chest. Ray’s hand flexed at your hip, his composure catching on a rough sound before his mouth found yours again, hungry and less careful than before.
“That’s it,” he breathed against your lips. “You take me so well.”
You turned your face into him, overwhelmed by the gentleness as much as the pleasure. Him inside you, the scrape of his beard along your skin, the devotion in the way he kept looking at you. It was too much and not enough, your body aching for more even as he gave you everything.
Ray shifted just enough to make you whimper, his hips still working into you as he slipped between your bodies and found your clit. Your back arched at the first touch, a sharp cry catching in your throat before his mouth covered yours, swallowing it down like he wanted to keep it for himself.
“That’s where you need me, isn’t it?”
All you could manage was another frantic nod, fingers curling at the back of his neck as the room filled with the sounds of your pleasure.
He moved with steady purpose, thumb circling your clit while he drove into you with the same focused restraint that had been ruining you all morning. Pleasure gathered heavy and insistent, swelling with every thrust. You held his gaze as long as you could, watching his composure slip in small, beautiful increments, until he angled his hips just right, pressing deeper, dragging against the spot that made your whole body seize beneath him.
“That’s it,” he encouraged, voice strained. “Come for me.”
The words pushed you right to the edge, your nails digging into his back as your body wound around him. For one desperate second, you hovered there, caught on the drag of his cock inside you, the steady pressure of his thumb, the sound of him losing control above you, and then it broke.
It hit you in a full-body rush, clamping around him as pleasure tore through you in waves. You cried out his name, and Ray groaned into your skin, his pace stuttering before he caught himself and gave you more, pushing you through it while your cunt fluttered around him.
You felt him start to slip, jaw clenched near your cheek, his control fraying with every pulse of your body around his. His mouth stayed on your skin, rough kisses pressed wherever he could reach, less careful with each one.
His hips drove deeper, rougher now, chasing what he had held back too long. A guttural groan dragged from his chest as he buried his face against your neck, body crowding yours with a need that felt almost frantic after so much restraint.
You were still shaking when his hand locked at your thigh, pulling you into him through one thrust, then the next, before he held himself as deep as your body would take him. His body went rigid over yours, shoulders tense beneath your hands, mouth open against your throat as he came with a broken sound. You felt him pulse inside you, the hot spill of his release filling your cunt as his hips pressed in with one last helpless grind, like even that deep, he still needed more.
“Fuck,” he breathed, your name following after, wrecked.
The sensation made you whimper, still too sensitive, still clenching around him in little aftershocks that dragged a rough sound from his chest. Ray’s mouth moved against your skin, not quite a kiss, more like he needed somewhere to put the force of it while his body shuddered once above yours.
He stayed buried inside you, his body covering yours as both of you came down in the gray morning light. Your fingers traced weakly over the back of his neck, feeling the damp heat of his skin, the uneven rise and fall of his breath. Ray pressed a kiss to your shoulder, lips lingering warm on your skin, because he couldn’t quite bring himself to leave you yet.
“Happy birthday,” he murmured against your skin, voice satisfied and ruined.
You laughed weakly, still trying to come back to yourself. “You’re very pleased with yourself.”
Ray’s eyes flicked to yours, gentled by something private. “No.”
“No?”
His thumb brushed over your cheek, his gaze moving over your face with the kind of attention that made you feel seen down to the smallest, most hidden parts of yourself. “I’m pleased I got to have you like that.”
Your heart did something stupid in your chest.
Before you could answer, he kissed you, lingering just long enough to ruin whatever clever thing you might have said. Eventually, he slipped from the bed and disappeared, returning a few moments later to get you cleaned up with the same tender care he gave everything that involved you.
When he left the room again, you heard movement beyond the bedroom, then the low clink of ceramic. He came back shortly with a fresh cup of coffee in your favorite mug, steam curling above the rim as he crossed the room in nothing but lounge trousers, his glasses back on now, the only real sign that the day had started when neither of you had quite left the bed.
You looked at the cup, then at him.
Ray settled beside you, body angled toward yours against the pillows, close enough that his fingers trailed absently over the ends of your hair while you drank your coffee and admired the bouquet again, bright and fresh against the rumpled mess of the room, your favorite flowers arranged with such precise care that it almost hurt to look at them.
You took a sip, the coffee rich and perfect on your tongue, exactly how you liked it. It settled something in you even as the rest of you remained a little undone from the way he had woken you. Ray’s fingers moved through your hair with an absent affection. Even after having you, even after coaxing every sleepy sound out of you, he still seemed to need some small point of contact.
Your gaze drifted lazily across the room, over the bouquet on the nightstand, to the clothes you had discarded the night before in your rush to get your hands on him. The memory tugged a smirk from you before your attention moved on, landing near the bedroom door, where both of your suitcases stood neatly against the wall.
The smirk faded into suspicion as you took another sip of coffee, because dignity felt important in the face of whatever he had clearly already done. With as much nonchalance as you could manage while sitting naked beneath the sheets after being loved senseless before breakfast, you lowered the mug.
“Ray?”
Beside you, his fingers paused in your hair for half a second.
“Darling?”
“Why is our luggage out?”
Ray remained relaxed against the pillows, his face calm in a way that only made you more suspicious. His fingers resumed their path through your hair, the touch so easy and affectionate you almost thought he could soothe the question right out of you.
“Oh,” he said, with the careful casualness of a man who had been waiting for this exact moment. “That’s part of your birthday surprise. I did tell you we had somewhere to be.”
Surprise flickered through you, cutting through the last haze of the morning. “I thought we were just going to brunch?”
“We are.”
You turned your head slowly and stared at him.
Ray finally glanced at you, and there it was, that infuriating little shift at the corner of his mouth. Just enough to tell you he had been waiting all morning for you to notice and enjoying himself far too much now that you had.
“Why do you sound like that?”
“Like what?”
“Like brunch has logistics.”
His expression softened, though the amusement stayed tucked in his eyes. “It does, in this case.”
“Raymond.”
He looked entirely too fond of you for a man currently refusing to explain the suitcases by the door.
You sat up a little straighter, the sheet shifting around your chest as you held your coffee with both hands. “What did you do?”
Ray reached over and took the mug from you before answering, setting it safely on the bedside table. Leaning in, he placed a kiss to your cheek before settling back against the pillows.
That made your suspicion deepen.
“Oh, absolutely not,” you protested. “You only take things out of my hands when you think I’m about to drop them.”
“I’ve known you long enough to know better.”
You gave him a look. “Long enough to know I need an explanation.”
He shifted toward you, one knee bending on the mattress as his hand found yours, his thumb brushed slowly over your knuckles, not to distract you this time, but to steady you before he gave you the truth.
“You once told me you wanted to have brunch on the Amalfi Coast.”
Your lips parted, but nothing came out. For a moment, the words just sat there between you, too lovely and impossible to make sense of.
Ray kept his eyes on you, voice soft and even, almost too gentle for the way your heart had suddenly started to beat.
“More specifically, you wanted a giant waffle with whipped cream and fresh strawberries,” he continued. “Mimosas. Blue water. Lemon trees. The sort of view that makes you feel insufferable for getting to sit in it.”
You blinked at him, still trying to make the words fit together. “I said that ages ago.”
“You did.”
“I was kidding.”
“No,” he said, thumb moving over the back of your hand. “You were wishing.”
You could only stare at him, trying to absorb the fact that he had taken one silly, impossible thing you said offhand, turning it into reality.
“Ray,” you breathed out, and something in his face changed at the sound of it.
“The bags are packed. The plane is ready. There will be a car here soon, and another waiting when we land.”
He lifted your hand and pressed a kiss to your knuckles, holding your gaze over them. “You don’t have to think about a single thing today unless you want to.”
The words barely made it past the emotion in your throat. “You’re taking me to Italy today?”
“For brunch,” he answered, pleased enough with himself not to bother hiding it. “Among other things.”
A shaky laugh slipped out of you, full of wonder. “You are unbelievable.”
“I suppose I’ve been called worse.”
“Raymond.”
His fingers curled around yours, steadying without crowding, already there to meet the emotion gathering in your chest before it could overwhelm you.
“I wanted you to have it.”
You looked down at your joined hands because his face was suddenly too much. The life he had already given you, and now this, all of it gathered in your chest so quickly you barely had time to swallow it down.
When you looked up again, Ray was watching you with a tenderness that made your heart swell.
His thumb brushed beneath your eye before the tear could fall, his expression changing the second he caught it. Leaning in, he kissed the damp place his thumb had touched. “I wondered when this might happen.”
You gave a watery laugh, catching his wrist as tears gathered again. “Don’t.”
“I’m not making light of it.” His voice lost every trace of amusement, his mouth lingering close to your cheek. “Not when it matters this much.”
You looked at him, helpless beneath the weight of it all. The suitcases by the door, the flowers, the coffee, the certainty of him sitting beside you like flying you to Italy for brunch was simply a thing that happened when he loved someone.
“I just…” You shook your head, overwhelmed all over again. “I don’t know what to do with this.”
All you could do was look at him, your chest too full for anything else.
“I hear the things you wish for before you decide they’re too much.” His gaze held yours, calm and devastating. “They all matter to me.”
You had to swallow before you could say his name. “Ray.”
“I love you,” he said, as simple as it was ruinous. “And I have no interest in letting you spend your life pretending you don’t want things just because you’ve learned not to ask for them.”
That hit way too deep for you to even answer.
He kissed your forehead, lingering there. “So yes, darling. When you want something, even if it’s fleeting, I’m going to notice.” He stayed close, mouth still touching your skin as he spoke. “And when I can, I’m going to give it to you.”
That was the part that undid you most. Not the money, the planning, or the impossible ease with which Ray seemed to make entire countries available to him. It was the fact that he listened so closely. That he knew the difference between a throwaway joke and a want you never expected anyone to take seriously.
You tucked your face into the side of his neck, pressing closer as your eyes filled all over again. “This is extravagant.”
His hand moved over your back, steady and affectionate. “I prefer efficient.”
You pulled back enough to look at him. “You are not calling a surprise trip to Italy efficient.”
“It has been arranged with very little inconvenience to you.” He adjusted his glasses at the frame, the gesture so composed it nearly made the whole thing worse, though you could still hear the smile in his voice. “That does seem to qualify.”
The restrained amusement in his face nearly made you cry all over again. It was such a Ray answer, precise and dry and entirely too calm for a man who had just announced he was flying you across Europe for waffles.
Your gaze slid toward the luggage again. “When did you even pack?”
“This morning.”
“You packed my suitcase this morning?”
“I did.”
“Ray.”
“You have options.”
“That is not what I’m worried about.”
“I know what you like.”
You gave him a look, though the smile already tugging at your mouth made it difficult to look truly accusing. “You know what I like, or you know what you like seeing me in?”
His eyes moved over your face with open appreciation. “Both.”
The answer was too honest to be smug, too tender to be anything but devastating.
You pressed your lips together, trying not to smile wider. “And what if I wanted to pack something else?”
“We’ll buy it there.”
“That is not a normal solution.”
“No,” he agreed, “but it is a solution.”
You laughed for real this time, the sound loosening the heaviness in your chest. Ray’s expression changed with visible satisfaction, that unmistakable pleasure he took in making you laugh, in watching the emotion ease out of you until it became something lighter.
He slid his fingers through your hair once more, then let his hand rest at the back of your neck. “We need to leave in an hour.”
“An hour?!” You looked down at yourself before giving him a pointed look. “I’m naked.”
“I had noticed.”
“Ray!” you chided, trying to sound scandalized and failing completely.
“I’m only saying it has not escaped my attention.”
You swatted his chest, but he caught your hand and kissed your palm before letting it go.
“You have time,” he said. “Shower. Dress. Panic a little, if you must.”
“I’m not panicking.”
His eyes flicked briefly to the luggage and back to you.
“I’m processing,” you corrected before he could say anything.
“Of course.”
“Don’t of course me.”
His mouth did that barely-there thing again, amusement tucked into one corner, trying to behave and failing only because he adored you too much.
You looked at him for a long second before reaching for your coffee. Ray handed it to you before you even had to lean, and the ease of that small gesture made your heart squeeze, almost as much as everything else he had done.
You took a sip, watching him over the rim of your mug. “You really planned a whole trip around waffles?”
“And mimosas,” he said, pressing a gentle kiss to your cheek. “And the view.”
“Oh.” Your smile turned almost whimsical as the thought of it settled over you. “The insufferable one?”
“The very one.”
There was something about the way he said it that made the whole thing ache again. Not because of the plane or the coast waiting across the water, but because he had listened. He had remembered. He had taken one passing wish from your mouth and built a birthday gift around it, not because he needed to prove he could, but because loving you had made him want to.
You set the mug down carefully and moved into his lap.
Ray accepted you without hesitation, hands finding your hips as you settled over him beneath the loose tangle of sheets. His head tipped back against the headboard, eyes lifting to yours, and for a moment neither of you said anything. The bouquet breathed sweetness into the room, the morning sitting pale and still around you, his hands steady at your waist even before he drew you closer.
“You’re meant to be getting ready,” he reminded you.
“I know.”
“And yet.”
“And yet,” you echoed, sliding your arms around his shoulders.
His hands moved up your sides, thumbs brushing your ribs. “Have I overwhelmed you?”
The question was gentle enough to make your heart somersault.
“A little,” you admitted, touching his face before concern could settle in. “In the good way. The way where I don’t know what to do with all of it yet.”
Ray’s hands settled more firmly around you. “You don’t have to do anything with it.”
“I do.”
“No.” He kissed you once, soft and brief. “You only have to let me give it to you.”
Your eyes held his before you dipped your lips to his, kissing him long enough that his hands drew you closer at the waist. When you pulled back, the emotion was still there, sitting high in your chest, but excitement had started breaking through it now, giddy and impossible to contain as the reality of what he had done finally sank in.
You took his face in both hands before he could retreat into all that careful composure, thumbs brushing over his cheeks as the coarse edge of his beard scratched softly against your palms. You looked at him like there was no possible way to love him more and still, somehow, you did.
“You extraordinary, gorgeous man,” you said, kissing him again, quick and happy this time, your smile ruining the shape of it before you could help yourself. “I love you. God, Ray, I love you so much it’s ridiculous.”
His smile came slowly before it broke wide enough to change his whole face. The corner of his mouth lifted, his beard shifting with it, blue eyes creasing at the edges as he looked up at you with helpless fondness. He looked almost bashful, pleased in a way he couldn’t hide.
And that only made it worse.
“Thank you. For all of it,” you told him, kissing him again because you couldn’t seem to stop. “For listening. For remembering. For being completely insane in the most romantic way possible. For making my life feel this beautiful.”
His thumb brushed along your side. “You haven’t seen all of it yet.”
Your exhale came out a little dazed. “There’s more?”
“It’s your birthday.”
You rested your forehead against his, unable to stop the grin spreading across your face even with all that emotion still caught behind your ribs. “One hour?”
He nodded, and your eyes fluttered shut for a second as you let yourself picture it: blue water, sunlight, drinks by the coast, Ray across from you in sunglasses, calm as anything, pretending this was a reasonable way to spend a morning simply because you had once wished for it.
When you opened your eyes, he was watching you.
“You’re doing that thing.” Your voice came out quieter than you meant it to.
“What thing?”
“Looking at me like that.”
His gaze held yours, unguarded and fond. “I like watching you receive things.”
Your breath caught a little, and he must have seen it, because his hand came up to touch your cheek.
“You spend a great deal of time convincing yourself you don’t need much,” he continued. “I don’t care for it.”
“Of course you don’t.”
“No,” he agreed. “Because I love you.”
The simplicity of it stole the teasing right off your tongue.
Ray kissed you before the moment could turn too heavy, his hand sliding to the back of your neck. You melted into him for one breath, then two, before he pulled back with visible restraint.
“Shower,” he reminded you, though he didn’t sound especially pleased about it.
You pouted. “You’re sending me away?”
“I’m ensuring we make the flight.”
“You’re very committed to these waffles.”
He chuckled. “I’m committed to you having the exact birthday I promised myself I’d give you.”
You pointed at him, blinking quickly. “You have got to stop saying things like that.”
“I’ll try.”
“You won’t.”
“No,” he replied, kissing your fingertip. “I won’t.”
You climbed off his lap and out of bed reluctantly, Ray’s eyes following you across the room with enough interest to make you feel it down your spine. There was nothing subtle about the look on his face, no polite appreciation, no easy restraint. Just his dark, intent focus moving over you until he blinked hard, once, and again, reminding himself there was somewhere else to be. You made it halfway across the bedroom before glancing back, very aware that if you stood there naked for a minute longer, neither of you was making that flight.
“Ray.”
“Hm?” His brows lifted, innocent in a way that didn’t suit him at all.
“Stop looking at me like that. We have logistics.”
That got a real laugh out of him, fuller than you expected, and you were still smiling when you stepped into the en suite.
Behind you, the bed shifted, followed by the sound of him moving through the room, already turning the morning back toward the plan ahead. You glanced at yourself in the mirror, flushed, thoroughly loved, and still not entirely convinced you’d heard him right.
Your birthday had barely begun, yet somehow Ray had already made it feel like the kind of day you would remember for the rest of your life.
Warnings: this fic contains suggestions of addiction and withdrawal. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.
18+ only, explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.
You voted, I wrote it. This is the next June fic! (It’s late. Sorry)
Raymond Smith + “You need to stop running away from the inevitable.”
I welcome and appreciate all feedback. This means replies, reblogs, and asks. I do prefer if you can reblog and share my work along with your thoughts. <3
You watch the smoke curl up beneath the hazy evening sky. The smell of rain lingers on the pavement, water dripping from the eaves. You suck on the cigarette and let out another grey furl as your lashes droop.
You hum and keep from leaning to the side. A car passes and footsteps scrape up the sidewalk. You hover the smoke in front of your lips, hunching forward as your fingers nice away without meaning too. You catch yourself and your eyes pop open.
A blurry figure approaches and you snort. You inhale the tobacco and puff it out as your vision clears just enough to make out the man in his tweed jacket and glasses. You pull the cigarette away and salute with your other hand.
"Rrray..." You slut. "Fine night."
"Rain let up." He shrugs as he stops at the bottom step, just three below where you sit on the stoop. "How's it goin' then?"
"Goin'," you drone and take one last drag before you butt out the ashy tip. "You sellin' or cashin' out?"
He tilts his head. "Not selling what you're on, dear." He grabs the railing as he lifts a foot onto the bottom stair. "Told ya, you needs get off that stuff."
You giggle. "Easy 'nough to say if you never tried it, Ray Ray."
You reach up and latch onto the railing. You struggle to get yourself to your feet. You sway and stumble down one step. Raymond moves to catch you. You manage to stay upright and wave him off.
"Don't you worry for me," you point at him and sag. "I needa sleep. Thatsall."
You stick out your tongue and turn your back to him. You saunter up the stairs and stop at the door. You twist and look back at him.
"Comin' or gon' buzz up?" You prompt.
Raymond sighs and climbs the steps. "Coming." He answers as he hurried forward and grabs the door. "Listen, you ever get off them things, I'll get you some of my stock for free. Take the edge off." He crowds you as he pulls the grated door shut behind him. "Better 'n pharmaceuticals."
"Not strong enough," you scoff and turn up the staircase. "Tell Billy to open his damn windows. Tired of smelling that skunk.”
You lean on the railing as you climb and sway down the hallways to your door. You push through and close the door without any care for the dangling chain or lock. You yawn and smile at the numb ripple flowing through you.
You fall onto the couch and moan. Your eyes roll back in cloudy content. You sink further and further away from reality, not thinking, not feeling. Just lost in oblivion.
💜
You roll over, arm numb from the weight of your body, and groan. Your shoulder aches at the socket and your head swims with the dregs of the pills. This is the part you hate. When you have to feel again. When you have to get up and face the world.
You throw your hand over your eyes and think of popping half a perc with your coffee. Those losers at the shop can be patient while you find their brand. Especially that idiot who expects you to remember which lites he prefers.
You sniff and rub your cheek hard. You wonder if Tonya got her new script yet. You really don’t want to pay Gregory double for his grandma’s sock. You flop your arm down on the bed and open your eyes.
Your heart floods with adrenaline. Bed? You don’t remember getting that far and this is much cushier than the stiff old futon on the floor. And the wooden trim around the ceiling isn’t dusty and faded like the old plaster of your flat.
Where the fuck are you?
Sitting up makes your head pound. You blink and look around at the dark wainscotting. Shit, did you somehow wander off and break into someone’s estate? You’ve done some zany shit on pills but mostly you just sleep.
You shake your head and it pulses again. You groan and rub your temples. You cradle your skull as you move slowly to the edge of the bed. You’re still in your loose pajama bottoms and baggy tee.
You stretch your neck and stand. You grab onto the orb at the top of the footboard’s post to keep from tipping. You scan the room again.
The windows have iron grating across the outside…
You turn and stagger to the door. The long curled handle doesn’t turn. You grip with both hands and jiggle. You crank down as hard as you can. Nothing.
You huff and let go. You cross the room, tripping on the edge of the carpet, and grab the window frame. You can slide it open but the metal cage doesn’t budge on the other side. The hell?
This can’t be real. You back up and stomp back to the door. You thump on it with your hand and holler, “Hey!” The echo shakes your brain. You cup your ears and whine.
You back up and sit on the bed, bending over your lap as you rock. Goddammit. You need out of this place. You need pills.
You stay like that, slowly leaning to the side as your eyelids droop. You’re weak. The thunder in your head travels down your spine.
A click makes you flinch. You turn your head and peek out from under your arm. You force yourself up to stare at the man that steps inside. It’s Raymond.
“Ray..” you murmur.
He stares at you, eyes pensive, disapproving behind his lenses. He tilts his head. You gape back at him, confused.
“You need to stop running away from the inevitable.” He says. “I told you to quit that junk.”
You blink again.
“Ray Ray, what do y’mean?” You gurgle.
“I walked straight into your place. You never knew. Not the first time.” He crosses his arms. “Coulda been someone a lot damn worse than me.”
You frown and shake your head. “What are you doing? Where am I?”
He tuts. “Cleaning you up.” He backs up and turns to the door. “You’re welcome.”
A surge of terror and rage strikes in you. You lunge up to your feet and towards him as he grabs the handle. He easily elbows you away and you fall to the floor with a thud. You cough and look up at him.
“You can’t do this!” You cry out.
He calmly opens the door. He stops inside the frame and looks back at you. You shakily sit up.
“And who’s goin’ to look for you, dear.”
He spins and slams the door at his back. The lock clicks. You growl and kick your heels into the floor.
Holy shit.
💜
Click.
You’re ready this time. The door opens and you jump. He’s ready too.
Raymond catches you by your jaw, squeezing until you’re still as he balances a plate in his other hand. You groan as his grip thrums in your neck and skull. He marches you back to the wooden chair at the desk.
“Sit.” He demands.
You whimper. It’s been hours since you had anything. Getting close to a day. His thumb pushes in behind your jaw until you obey.
“You need to eat.” He lets go and places down the plate of food. Mandarin slices peeled and divided, cottage cheese dressed with pepper and sesame, and baked chicken sliced with zucchini and broccoli.
You growl through your teeth. “I need some damn pills.”
He lets go and taps your cheek, enough to just sting.
“No. Eat.”
You touch your cheek and glare at him. “What’s wrong with ya? Why are ya–”
“Helping you?” He interrupts and points at the plate. “Eat.”
“Let me go–”
“You can eat or I can feed you.” He warns and shoves you..
You look down at the plate and curl your lip. There’s a plastic utensil; one end a spoon, the other a curved spork. You sigh and reach for it.
You hover it over the bland white heap. You grip it tightly and act as if you might take a bite. Instead you twist and jump up, aiming the tines at his face. He catches you and knocks the utensil from your hand.
He grasps the back of your head and turns you back to the desk. He pinches your neck and forces you into the chair. He bends you over until your face is right over the plate.
“Act like an animal. Eat like one.” He smushes your face into the food. “I’m not leaving until the plate is clean.”
The cheese smears all over your face and a piece of broccoli nearly impales your nostril. You cough and grip the edge of the desk.
“You choose how this goes.” He snarls.
You wriggle and grunt. “Let me go. Ow! I’ll… eat.”
He pinches until you whine but relents. You sit up and he reaches into his pocket. He offers you a fabric kerchief. You rip it away from him and wipe your face.
You keep your head down, crumpling the cloth in your fist as you grab a mandarin wedge with your other hand. You put it in your mouth and bite down. You eat quietly. Your stomach churns at the smell of the broccoli. The taste only makes it worse.
You cover your mouth and your shoulders rack. He backs up and returns with the bin placed at the corner of the desk. He holds it patiently beside you. You turn and wretch into it.
“First few days will be bad. Week or so, you’ll feel better.” He pats your back and you stiffen. “Drink water. Stretch your legs when you can.”
“You’re an asshole.” You mutter into the bin.
“And you’re an addict.” He drones back smugly. “No one else’d do anything for ya.”
💜
“Hey, jerk! Hey, Hey!” You yell and stomp, stomping to hammer on the walls with your fist.
For hours, you laid in bed, restless and dizzy, until you just couldn’t stay still. Now you’re pissed. And sweating. Somehow soaked in sweat but freezing. You sniff through your clogged nose and hit the wall again.
“Lemmeouttttttt.” You shout so loud it makes your ears ache. “Lemme–”
You stop as your stomach clenches. Ugh. Not again. You hurry into the bathroom and panic. You don’t know what end it’s coming out of.
You end up sitting, curled over your knees, shaking and sniveling. When you’re done, you barely have the strength to get yourself off the bowl. You flush and wash your hands, shivering endlessly.
You’re light-headed. You stumble into the wall and turn your back to it. You slide down and hug your legs. You hang your head forward and close your eyes. You stay like that for a while, dazed and dull.
The scent of something sweet tickles your nose. You lift your head. You didn’t hear him. You’re embarrassed as Raymond lights three wicks of the candle and slides it back on the counter.
He turns to you. You stare dumbly. He picks you up and drags you to the tub. He sits you on the edge and grabs the top of your tee shirt.
“What’re you–”
“Told you to wash up, didn’t I?” He tears the cotton over your head. “You need to keep care of yourself.”
He exposes your chest and you quickly hug yourself. He tosses the shirt. You sway.
He takes your arms and you struggle to keep them closed. He shakes his head and forces them open and around his neck. He stands you up and pushes the elastic of your pajamas past your hips and ass. His palms graze your skin firmly.
It’s been days. He told you yesterday to take a bath. You ignored him, too anxious to do more than pace and ramble. What the fuck is this guy’s problem? Why is he doing this to you? Can’t he mind his damn business.
He leans you against the tub again. You lift your hand and he mirrors it with his own. He points at you.
“You do not want to do that.” He sneers.
You believe him. You drop your hand and look down. He bends over the porcelain and cranks on the faucet. He tests it with his thick fingers.
“Ray, why…”
“Does it matter why I’m helping you?” He stands up, his hands on his hips.
“I don’t want help. I want to be fucking high.”
“Ta!” He slaps your cheek lightly.
You recoil and cradle your cheek. You glower at him. His eyes bore into yours then drift down. You cower and cover your nudity.
“Get in.” He orders. “I don’t want to hurt you, otherwise I’d have left you as you were.”
“What do you care about me?” You scowl.
He’s quiet. He grabs your arm and forces you to turn. You lift your leg over the edge and he helps you down into the deep basin.
He stirs the water with his hand. You cross your arms and bend your legs. He stares into the clear ripples around his fingers. “You’ll feel better once you’re clean.”
💜
“You’ve been good.” Raymond declares as he enters. You sit on the bed, exhausted. You can’t shake the fatigue. “You can choose your reward; chocolate, caramel, or cherry?”
You stare at him. “I don’t care. I don’t want it. I want to go.”
He clucks. “You’re doing so well, don’t make me rescind the offer.”
You sigh. “Caramel.”
“Good girl.”
Later, he brings you a salted caramel sundae with your dinner. You don’t admit it out loud, but it’s delicious. You could cry. It’s much better than what he’s been serving you; unseasoned protein and fruit.
“If you’re good tomorrow, you can choose your supper too.” He says as he puts the empty dishes on the tray.
True to his word, he lets you choose supper the next night. You ask for Nandos. He acquiesces, though he seems less than impressed by the meal as he watches you eat. He clears away the remnants and tells you to brush your teeth and clean your face.
You don’t do either of those things until he returns to make sure. You don’t need him shoving the brush halfway down your throat again. He supervises you until you’re dressed in the satin nightie he brought you.
He kisses your cheek with a good night and leaves you to your cage. You don’t sleep. You shut off the lamp beside the bed and stare up at the shadowy ceiling as the static silence fills your ears.
You toss and turn. Rolling one way then the other. You just can’t settle down.
Your hand goes to your cheek. Why did he do that?
Click. You tense but don’t let on that you heard it. Maybe you didn’t. It can’t be.
It is. You hear him approach the bed behind you. Feel his weight dip at the edge. He whispers your name and touches your arm.
“You can’t sleep.” He says.
You don’t react. He spreads himself behind you, his warmth swathing over you.
“Can’t either.” He slings his arm around you. You twitch.
He lays like that, right against you, for a while. Quite, breathing in the scent of your hair, exhaling out his thoughts. He nuzzles behind your ear.
“You’re doing better. Do you feel better?” His lips graze the rim of your ear. You don’t answer. His hand stretches along your stomach and he pulls himself even closer. “I’m proud of you.”
You bite down. His touch slowly crawls higher, tickling you through the thin satin. You shift.
“You’re almost ready.” He purrs. He presses his palm over your tit. You growl and catch his hand.
“Ray…” you whisper.
“Shh,” he hushes you as rolls his hips. “I’ve not earned my reward yet.” He drags his hand off your chest and snakes his arm around you, squeezing you until you stop squirming. “Sleep, love. You’re almost there.”
pairing. raymond smith x fem!reader
word count. 1932
summary. ray's mindless touches on your thigh while you read begin to catch up with you, though he's too busy working to realise. so he offers you a promise, "if you can give me twenty minutes. I'll fuck you for twice as long."
warnings. 18+ only! general filth, little bit of fingering, pinv, horny writer's thought pls excuse me. mdni
> I know this will not get read bc he's not popular anymore but I needed to get it out of my system (he's still not out my system btw, it’s a sickness. help!)
⎯ ☆ ⎯
It’s quiet, the evening calm. The only sounds coming from the crackle of the fireplace and soft, steady breaths. Both yours and Ray’s attention obtained by your individual papers in hand: yours, a book, and in Raymond’s, a stack of papers he’s been asked to look over.
The feel of it all so comfortable, so familiar.
The backs of your thighs horizontally rest over his, lounging across him with your back propped against the arm of the sofa — your new read held close to your face. Ray’s seated position remains close, tucked to you like you are to him. Nestled into one another casually.
His feet sit on the coffee table ahead, one hand clutching the pile of papers, his other resting over your thigh, touch mindless as he grazes your bare skin. The careful caress simply an absentminded act, an act of spontaneous, unprompted protection maybe. His focus fully engrossed in a page of nothing but information and numbers.
Though to you, it wasn’t just nothing. Ray’s thoughtless touches act as a distraction to you, each stroke and brush and graze pulling your attention further and further away from your story until all that remains are muddled, merged sentences. The plot lost to you by now.
And so you peek at him over your book, gaze focused and almost delirious as you watch him, completely unaware of your lusty set of eyes. You observe him, vision fixed on his casual grip on you: ringed pinky and large, veiny hand perched upon your skin like it’s where it belonged. Everything about it so confident, so manly. Cardigan woven with wool and residual notes of whiskey and cigarettes — like it was a fortuitous, accidental representation as to who he is: gentle and virile.
You quietly pay attention to the way he works, his glasses resting atop his nose as he skims the page — his articulate, precise nature urging him to comprehend everything written. His heed to detail being one of the things most attractive about him. And yet, he had no idea what he was doing to you. Sat there, utterly unaware of his power.
Though that changes as your breathing grows inadvertently heavy, a sudden sharp inhale from you makes his neck snap to follow the sound. His eyes now focused on yours over your novel, a slight quirk in his brow as if to analyse you.
Your expression —or the top half, what he can see— is blissed, pained even. These last thirty-some minutes of gentle grazing begin to catch up with you.
He hums shortly, the noise an attempt to scope you out, though by now there’s no need for connecting dots or guessing — all evidence as clear as day. He looks down to his palm just above your knee, your thighs pressed tight together in an effort to alleviate some of the pressure you feel between them.
He uncrosses his ankles on the coffee table and leans forward, placing the stack of papers beside his whiskey tumbler. Ray clears his throat in his fist, a sly, faint smile forming behind his hand as if he’s debating with himself. His eyes drift down to the hand on your lower thigh, gaze following the ever so slow tail as he itches under your robe.
“You didn’t want to disturb me, did you?” Raymond questions, eyes pleased and proud as they flicker up to you.
“No,” you murmur with a faint shake of the head, voice catching in your throat as you watch.
His fingers move inwards and under your nightdress, slotting between your thighs as if to separate them — his hand protruding through both thin layers of fabric.
“So patient of you,” he teases, tilting his head forward, peering at you over the top of his glasses. “Must’ve been agony.”
It was. It really was.
With his spare hand, he reaches for your book and takes it from your hold — placing it open and faced down beside his papers to keep your space. He pulls back to sit in his original position, feet now planted on the floor, knees apart in a manspread. He taps at his thigh, running a hand down the beef of it like he was beckoning you, summoning you almost.
“Come on,” he whispers, the instruction soft as he gestures you along. He taps at it again and rolls his hips underneath himself to reposition — preparing for you.
With an excited giggle, you do as asked, finally about to get what you want after all of his mindless teasing. You situate yourself over his lap, knees either side of his thighs as you use his shoulders for your support — keeping you up right. His eyes fix on you above, watching the antsy knitting and curving of your brows.
He spreads his arms either side along the back of the leather chesterfield, maintaining his dominance while he lets you take the lead. Or so he lets you think.
You reach between yourselves, your fingers hurriedly finicking with his belt, urging him out of his trousers. Your too quick movements stall your attempts, and you huff, the sound more similar to a whimper than anything else.
His head cocks, amused, watching you fiddle with the buckle. Watching you fail with the buckle.
He lifts a hand from its spot behind the sofa, redirecting it to your cheek — palm large and warm as he cups the side of your face, making you look at him. Ray’s touch glides backwards to behind your neck, thumb resting over your ear as he urges you closer. Pulling you inwards.
“Give me some sugar first.”
You lean in, pressing a quick kiss to his lips before moving away, trying to move away. Though he has other plans. His hold firm behind your neck to keep you there — bringing you back in so he could return the kiss. His beard skims at your chin as he deepens and roughens the kiss, intensifying the moment.
Though his dick is not yet hard, the presence of him is just as noticeable as if it were. The faint brushes of his big, thick cock through his trousers sends your mind into a tizzy. All your bodily responses become all the more evident, as if you’re betraying yourself.
And with your attention consumed by the way he kisses you, he’s slipping his other hand between you both, reaching between your thighs. He itches a finger to skim down your cunt and you jolt, his touch catching you by surprise. You moan into his mouth, the sound stifled and muffled, before you pull away.
You look down to watch, but your view is obstructed by your fabric pooling around your thighs. And then he clicks his tongue, eyes still boring on your face. You follow the noise, looking back up and he nods slowly, wordlessly praising you for following along.
With your gaze fixed on his, he’s hooking his finger into the elastic of your underwear, parting it aside within his very skilled hand. He trails down your slit, all arousal noticeable when he’s met with no resistance, the slick of your cunt granting him easy access to toy with you.
He raises a brow, both satisfied and impressed. His touch remains light as he brushes the pad of his middle finger downwards, circling your entrance briefly before he’s slipping inside your cunt.
It was something, but not enough. Nowhere close to being enough.
You wrap your arms around his neck, mouth grazing his with the closeness.
“More,” you utter against his lips, a slight whine to your voice. “Another.”
Your hips wind involuntarily, like you’re preemptively chasing after something — anticipating it. The feel of a lone finger is far from what you needed to satiate the gaping want.
“Another what?” he speaks into your mouth, a twinge of whiskey being tasted on his tongue. He knew what he was doing, and he was abusing his power over you. “You’re a smart girl. Tell me.”
“Finger. Another finger,” you plead. Your answer is quick, like you thought the speed of your response will get you what you want faster.
He tuts quietly, lips brushing against yours as he shakes his head.
All you can respond with is a whinge, a frustrated whinge at that and your hips still. The sensation of his finger being withdrawn from you. You mumble a faint, “What?” when you feel his hand part from behind your head, the one near your cunt too.
And then his hands drop to his lap, placing them between your thighs as he unfastens his belt — the jingling sound of the metal making your eyes widen, lighten almost. His hips raise underneath you as he tugs on the waistband of his trousers, pulling them down just enough to comfortably reach into his boxers.
He wraps a hand around himself and brings his cock out over the top, fisted grip tight as he gives it a few pumps — polishing his head as if to ready himself. With his other hand, he’s bunching the fabric of your garments, holding them up so he could guide himself closer to your cunt underneath.
He knocks his head at your clit just to see and hear and feel you shudder, a response he often loved from you. And so with you right where he wants you, right at the edge, he’s lining up with you — his eyes fixed on yours like it's all coming from a place of muscle memory, not needing sight to know what he’s doing.
Ray presses the tip of his dick against your pussy, the shape of his head kissing at your entrance so perfectly. And when he feels like you’ve suffered enough, he’s feeding himself into you, filling you from underneath as you lower down — meeting him halfway.
Strength in your neck dissipates, your forehead collapsing against his as you inhale shakily, taking all of him until nothing remains. His balls pressing up against your cunt’s lips like you’re sitting on them.
You lean in to kiss him while you give yourself a moment to reaccustom to him, familiarising with the thick feel of his cock. Your breath catches in your throat when you feel him bump up into you, a small jut upwards knocking the air out your lungs.
With himself wedged fully inside, he moves a hand to your throat, lightly holding under your jaw. There’s no pressure behind his touch, simply the presence there to guide you, to feel you. He keeps his mouth to yours, swallowing the little gasps you make and he tests the waters once more — adjusting his hips, pushing himself up into you entirely. The full weight of you perched upon his lap, sat on his dick.
“This what you wanted?” he murmurs, speaking against your lips.
You nod. Blissed, hazy eyes doing the talking for you as if you’ve suddenly become incapable of speaking.
Ray runs his spare hand behind you and to the cheek of your ass, palm resting over the satin fabric as he guides you — ushering your hips forward to grind over him. Though the presence of his touch is short-lived as he reaches forward, collecting his papers from before.
With his hand on your jaw, he brings you inwards, tucking your face into his neck. He brings the papers in his view, holding the stack just to the side of you.
“If you can give me twenty minutes to finish this” he says, voice soft beside you. “I’ll fuck you for twice as long,” Ray whispers, his words a promise.
a/n: The first actual smutty chapter is finally here, but make sure y'all read the Prologue first if you have not!! Feedback and reblogs are much appreciated!
series tag list: @kmc1989 @jaxtellerpls @anonymouse1807 @mylifeisanoxymoron21 @mmarysha @jeshomie
Your heels lightly echoed off the marble floor as you stepped further into the spacious, extravagantly decorated room, a choppy click clack staccato breaking the silence. Lips somewhat parting in awe, you struggled not to openly gawk at your surroundings. This felt more like a penthouse apartment rather than a hotel room as your eyes swept over the entirety of the suite.
Everything was modern and decorated with eclectic, expensive details. In the center of the main room where you stood there was a sitting area filled with a couple of plush, forest green armchairs situated around a coffee table. To the left, the room opened up to a large, black sofa positioned in front of a massive television mounted on the wall above a gas fireplace–which seemed excessive considering this was Miami. While it was the middle of January and the nights could occasionally be chilly, the cold this far south paled in comparison to what you were accustomed to back where you lived in Chicago. A fireplace seemed rather unnecessary here.
On the right side of the main room you saw a small kitchen filled with expensive, black stainless steel appliances that seamlessly fit into the white granite counters and black cabinets surrounding them. An island with a pristine, stunning black granite waterfall countertop glistened under the modern pendant lights, and a few tall, leather chairs were tucked underneath it.
Taking a handful of steps further into the room, one of your hands trailed along the back of a velvety armchair, but you nearly lost your breath at the sight that met you beyond the floor to ceiling windows which spanned the length of the wall across from you. Miami glittered in the night, lights sparkling as far as you could see from the sixtieth floor where Raymond's room was located. The view was absolutely breathtaking, leaving you standing there speechless and gaping at the lights of the city and the skyscrapers surrounding the hotel. Far down below, you could see a few of the streets where countless cars drove through downtown Miami, hundreds of people venturing out for the night.
The elevator ride up to his room had felt never-ending, especially since you’d never taken an elevator sixty floors up before. Your body was still humming from the hits you'd taken off of the joint Raymond had rolled in the car that’d brought you both here, and the weed certainly hadn’t helped with your perception of time. But Raymond didn’t appear bothered by your awkward little comments and nervous giggles on the ride up to his hotel suite.
When he’d passed you the joint in the car earlier, you’d confessed that you'd never smoked anything before, much less tried anything stronger than alcohol. You'd coughed and sputtered with each hit on the drive to his hotel, handing the joint back to Raymond and catching the amused twist to his lips. But the way he'd looked at you had been anything but mocking, even if you still couldn't quite place that curious glint in his eyes.
Standing in the middle of his expensive hotel suite now, you felt exceptionally out of place in your discounted, black designer dress. Two years ago you'd bought it at an outlet store, but you'd never had an occasion to wear it. You packed it for your solo vacation to Miami, having planned one splurge night for yourself–for tonight, your first night of your week-long vacation. But you felt out of your element more in this hotel room than you had back at the restaurant where you'd first met him.
“This–this is not what I expected when you said we'd be going back to your room,” you admitted sheepishly, still staring out of the windows overlooking the city. You suspected there was a view of the ocean when the sun was in the sky. “It's…”
You trailed off, not even sure what to call the extravagance of the room. You figured the bedroom and bathroom were just as lavish, but the main room alone was already larger than your Chicago apartment. Your own hotel room for the duration of your stay here was just a simple, standard hotel room, nothing remotely of this caliber.
Who the hell was Raymond? How could he afford all of this? That restaurant you'd gone to tonight was intended to be just an expensive treat for yourself, a little something special on your vacation. But Raymond had begun chatting with you at the bar as you'd both sat waiting for a table, and he'd ultimately invited you to join him for dinner before refusing to let you spend a cent. He'd paid for dinner without even batting an eye, as if money wasn't much of an issue for him.
Now here you were entirely speechless at the sight of his hotel room. It made you curious about the man you'd spent the past two hours with, wondering what exactly he did for a living. You’d been trying not to think too hard about it, but admittedly you’d begun to form theories.
The soft, approaching sounds of his footsteps along the marble floor caused your head to turn over your shoulder. Raymond slowly sauntered towards you, stopping just behind you and taking you by surprise when he gently rested a hand along your waist. He leaned forward, closing a bit of the distance between you both as his mouth paused beside your ear.
“Stop standing so awkwardly,” he whispered. “You're allowed to sit.”
The warmth of his palm seeped through the thin fabric of your dress, your knees growing weak beneath the simple touch. The heat of his breath ghosting down the side of your neck sent your heart skittering unevenly in your chest, the rough thump thump distracting and impossible to ignore.
“Pretty sure my presence would offend the furniture,” you joked, slightly breathless.
His hand slid to your lower back, fingers splaying wide along the expanse of it before he urged you forward. You took a few steps at the gentle push, heels clicking again along the floor as he began to guide you towards the black sofa on the left side of the main room.
“Offend it?” he repeated, his hand still pressed to the small of your back. “Don't be absurd, you're not that out of place.”
Raymond led you around the sofa and right to the middle of it before his hand slid away from your back. Settling down into the cushions of the couch, you realized you'd vastly underestimated just how comfortable it would be–or maybe you were just that high. Sinking into the back of the couch, a slow, contented smile drew itself across your lips.
For a brief second, you somehow managed to completely forget about Raymond’s imposing presence. Your thoughts singularly focused on the sofa as your eyes gradually closed and you relaxed into it. It felt as if your body had melted into the luxurious plushness beneath you, that wide, blissful smile still drawn over your lips. Whether it was the alcohol or the weed in your system, you were tempted to curl up along the cushions and let yourself fall asleep.
A quiet, amused huff fell out of Raymond, the sound reminding you that you weren't alone. Eyes flying back open, you saw him still standing right in front of you. He loomed above you, his lips curled upwards as his eyes creased at the corners, watching you sink into the cushions like an exhausted stray cat that he’d brought back with him. Embarrassment flooded you instantly, your teeth clamping down on your bottom lip as heat crept up your neck. But underneath that tinge of amusement, you recognized that odd look he kept giving you, the one that felt almost fond.
“You act as if you've never sat on anything besides the floor,” he teased. “Do you not have furniture in your apartment?”
You laughed lightly, the sound tinged with your nervousness. This whole night was entirely unlike you. You weren't the type to join a stranger for dinner, or smoke a joint, and you certainly didn't follow men you just met back to their hotel rooms. It was obvious what was going to inevitably happen between you both, and why he'd brought you here to begin with, but you'd never been with a man quite like Raymond before. You blamed it on his accent, his handsome face, and the way his expressive blue eyes kept causing your stomach to unexpectedly flip whenever they met yours.
“Of course I do, but everything here is far better than my apartment,” you lamely admitted, your eyes sweeping through the room again. “It's all so…nice.”
Raymond hummed thoughtfully before he tipped his head towards your heels, his gaze never leaving yours. “Do you mind if we lose the footwear?” he asked. “They are quite–” he blinked abruptly three times behind the lenses of his glasses, “–dirty from being on the street.”
There it was again, that little tic you'd noticed at dinner. Certain things appeared to draw it out, and you'd begun to wonder what exactly made them appear. Truthfully, you'd begun to wonder quite a bit about the British gentleman you were only planning to spend a few hours of your evening with, wondering things that you probably shouldn't waste your time thinking about. This was supposed to be just one night of your life, who he was shouldn't have mattered much to you.
“May I?” he asked.
He gestured a hand towards your heels and your eyebrows immediately rose at the offer. Never in your life had a man offered to remove your shoes, not even ex-boyfriends when you were too drunk to properly stand. Yet somehow his simple offer felt oddly intimate for something rather innocent.
“I guess,” you answered.
Slowly lowering himself down to one knee before you, your gaze followed Raymond as he gracefully dropped down to the floor. Heat further burned at your cheeks, your body feeling all but on fire at the sight of him kneeling in front of where you sat on the couch. The urge to reach a manicured hand out and slip it into his neatly slicked back blonde hair caused your fingers to twitch along the cushion beside you, but you managed to refrain.
Raymond's hands were surprisingly rough and calloused as he delicately cradled your ankle in his palm and lifted it from the floor. His other hand gently worked the first heel from your foot, carefully easing it off and setting it onto the floor beside himself. While he worked to remove your other heel, your stare lingered on the line of his shoulders beneath his fitted dress shirt.
He had thick, broad shoulders, and the muscles shifted as he quietly worked to remove your shoes. Pressing your lips firmly together, you tried to ignore that growing spark of desire that'd begun to burn hotter ever since you’d left the restaurant with him. You found yourself craving the knowledge of how his hands would feel touching the rest of you, running over your thighs and cupping your breasts. To feel them teasing you, exploring you, giving you pleasure.
When he finished his task, his chin raised and he met your stare again. For one very long moment you sat there against the cushions, your heart pounding ferociously against your ribcage as want stirred awake inside of you. A flicker of something almost knowing seemed to pass behind his eyes before he rose back up to his feet, carrying your heels in one hand back towards the door of his hotel. When his back had turned towards you, you inhaled a deep breath, trying to compose yourself before you did something embarrassing with how badly you found yourself wanting him.
Raymond bent at the waist by the door when he reached it, setting your heels neatly beside his own leather oxfords. That's when you realized he'd apparently removed his own dress shoes upon entry. He rose once more to his full height before turning back towards the sofa, lifting a hand to push his glasses further up onto the bridge of his nose almost out of habit rather than necessity, a curious gesture you'd been distracted by more than once tonight. Wanting to break the silence that had temporarily fallen, you asked the first question that came to your mind–the one you'd been wondering all night.
“What exactly do you do to be able to afford all of this?” you blurted.
His fingers stilled mid-adjustment of his glasses at the question before a flicker of something hard to decipher–caution, possibly–passed over his face, but his expression abruptly returned to something neutral. He exhaled through his nose, slow and deliberate, as if measuring how much to reveal, and that only piqued your interest further.
"Importing and exporting," he answered smoothly, moving to stand beside where you sat on the sofa again. He extended a hand and lightly tapped his index finger against your knee, the gesture a bit playful for a man who seemed so serious. "But I'd rather you instead tell me why a nurse was sitting all by herself at a restaurant like the one I found you in earlier.”
His finger deliberately drew itself across the length of your bare knee when he turned, gracefully lowering himself down onto the sofa. As his hand fell to rest against the cushion beside himself, the warm scent of his cologne drifted towards you once more. You caught that familiar scent of something clean mixed with sandalwood, which somehow oddly complimented the hint of weed that still clung to him. You shifted involuntarily on the cushions, crossing your legs and trying to ignore your reaction. His scent alone was intoxicating, almost unconsciously drawing you in towards him as you tried to focus on his question while he obviously evaded your own.
“I needed a break from work,” you answered. “And the cold. Miami sounded like a good idea, so I took a vacation. And the restaurant had good reviews, so I figured I'd splurge on my first night here.”
Raymond leaned casually against the back of the sofa, his body turned towards you at the waist as he leisurely tossed an arm over the backrest. His other hand continued to remain in the space between you both, and your attention was inevitably drawn towards it again. Tongue feeling like sandpaper in your mouth, you stared at the back of his hand, eyes trailing over the visible veins before your focus shifted to the single, gold ring that sat along his right pinky. But then you became distracted by the length and thickness of each of his digits, suddenly finding yourself silently admiring them.
What would it feel like to have those fingers run themselves up the length of your thigh before slipping inside of you? Was Raymond even the type to care about a woman's pleasure, or would you be denied the chance to feel them curling inside of you? Would he be the type to wrap that hand around your throat and squeeze as he fucked you, or was he far too gentle for that?
Expelling a long, slow breath, you tried to stop thinking about the way you wanted to run your tongue along each finger and tried to focus back on the conversation. Which was proving difficult, and you assumed that was due to the weed.
“Why did you come to Miami?” you asked, fighting to draw your focus back on his face. “Business or pleasure?”
A brief pause hung in the air at your question, Raymond's gaze lingering openly on your face. It almost felt as if he'd read all of your dirty thoughts with that sly flicker behind his blue eyes, and it caused your pulse to quicken.
“Forced pleasure,” he replied. “My employer thinks I work far too much. He all but ordered me to go on holiday.”
“Right,” you mused softly, nodding at his answer. “You work too hard with all your…importing and exporting.”
The amused rumbling noise that vibrated in Raymond's chest had your thighs pressing together. He sounded almost pleased as his head tipped to the side, eyes running over you in an entirely different way now. You felt a shiver of satisfaction run through you, desperately finding yourself wanting to draw that noise from him again tonight.
“Perceptive and cheeky,” he mused lightly. “I'm already finding myself not regretting inviting you to spend the evening with me.”
“Why did you?” you asked, unable to help yourself. “I imagine you don't generally spend your time with women like me.”
It was clear what you meant by that. You weren't remotely from whatever social circles he must run in back in England. You imagined he probably slept with wealthy women over there, most likely socialites. Women who knew which fork to use for every course of a multi-course meal. Ones with manners and bank accounts far superior to yours.
Raymond didn't immediately answer your question, which only heightened your anxiety that the weed and alcohol in your system were trying to subdue. His curious eyes searched yours for a few moments, studying you in silent contemplation. But the hand that was still resting against the cushion between you both shifted in a slow, careful motion, moving across the sofa towards you until his index finger began tracing along the side of your knee again. A slow smile gradually began to draw itself across his face, the sight of it sending your heart straight into your throat.
"And what," he began softly, that low English baritone almost a whisper, "exactly do you mean by women like you, love?”
Attempting to find your voice at the pet name that’d slipped out of his mouth, you cleared your throat a couple of times in your struggle. It didn't go unnoticed that he'd answered your question with another question of his own, either. He'd been effortlessly evasive with things most of the night, and you'd begun to wonder what it would take to ever get honesty out of him. But that index finger running circles along the side of your knee was increasingly distracting and making it rather difficult to call him on it.
“Unrefined,” you stated.
The corner of his lips twitched in something akin to distaste at your answer, as if he didn't quite agree with your choice of words. His finger stilled against your knee for a few seconds before it resumed its distracting movements, slowly gliding up the length of your exposed thigh until it stopped at the hem of your dress. Goosebumps rippled over your legs, something you were certain he'd noticed.
“You say unrefined,” Raymond began, repeating the word as if it left a bad taste in his mouth, “but I prefer to call you genuine. Which is a rarity in my life.”
That look was back in his eyes again, the one you didn't quite understand. Your breath came in shorter beneath that weighty stare of his, your heart still hammering away in your chest in equal parts excitement and anxious anticipation. A part of you could feel the danger he exuded beneath his well-groomed exterior and his oddly unflappably calm demeanor, but it almost felt like there was something softer slipping out between the cracks.
His head canted marginally to the side, his eyes narrowing just a fraction as he watched you. “Are you feeling well?” he asked. “You appear rather…nervous.”
“I’m fine,” you answered quickly. Struggling to control the levelness of your breathing, you shook your head, trying to ignore the sound of your own blood rushing in your ears. "I think this might just be the part where I say I need to freshen up, though?”
His finger lightly tapped against your thigh twice, just beneath the hem of your dress. Behind the lenses of his glasses, he blinked a couple of times, slower than usual, as if he was thinking about something.
“Is this you politely saying you'd like to leave?” he asked, almost sounding disappointed.
A small, nervous laugh slipped out of you before you shook your head, very aware of that wandering index finger of his. It was simultaneously making you self-conscious and increasingly aroused.
“That's my polite way of saying I need five minutes to breathe,” you corrected, voice strained.
He hummed again, the same pleased rumbling sound from earlier that’d sent satisfaction searing through you like a bolt of lightning. It was quickly becoming a noise you enjoyed hearing from him. Sitting farther back into the cushions of the sofa, Raymond's hand returned to his own lap, giving you space.
“The en-suite is just past the bedroom in there,” he informed you, tilting his head towards the nearby door. “Feel free to take as much time as you need to compose yourself.”
Pushing yourself up from the sofa, you padded barefoot across the cold marble tile and towards the closed door he'd gestured at. But you could feel his eyes on your back with every step, and that only had you wondering when you could skip past all the talking and get to the part where your brain finally turned off.
The scent of rose and vanilla filled the bathroom as you sat naked beneath the thick foam of bubbles. After you'd initially left the en-suite and blurted out that the bathtub looked rather like a pool than a tub, and then found yourself babbling about how your apartment didn’t even have a bath, Raymond had surprisingly offered to draw you a bubble bath. Stunned by the offer, you’d agreed without giving much thought to it.
He'd helped you out of your dress once the bath was finished, carefully sliding the zipper all the way down the length of your spine before his large hands gently guided the fabric off over your shoulders. It had dropped to your feet on the expensive tile in a puddle of soft fabric before he'd unclasped your bra. You'd slipped out of your panties after, feeling his gaze appreciatively roaming over your bare body, admiring the sight of it finally exposed to him. Feeling self-conscious beneath his quiet scrutiny, you’d climbed into the tub and sank beneath the cover of warm water and bubbles as quickly as you could.
Which had left you with the enthralling show of watching Raymond remove each item of his own clothing, his hands deliberate and meticulous as he peeled off each of his layers. He'd folded each item neatly before setting it onto the massive bathroom countertop, seemingly unbothered with you openly staring at him as he undressed.
He'd joined you in the bathtub afterwards, wordlessly pulling you straight onto his lap and facing him. The bubbles hid most of yourselves from the collarbone downwards, but that hadn't quelled the increasing desire you felt. Because now you were painfully aware of how unclothed you were with your legs straddling his hips beneath the water. You'd gotten a good view of every hard plane of muscle along his body, along with a generous eye full of his cock which you could feel half hard beneath you already.
“It's the weed, isn't it?” you asked.
You hadn't meant to blurt out the question, but beneath the warmth of the water and with the delicious way his hands currently rested low on your hips, it had just slipped out. It didn't help that the weed from earlier was still softly buzzing in your mind, beginning to finally relax you in his presence and quieting the countless thoughts you would have otherwise been having this evening.
Ray's head tipped back against the edge of the bathtub as he looked up at you perched in his lap, the steam of the water faintly fogging the lenses of his glasses. One of his blonde brows flicked up onto his forehead in a silent question of clarification at what you'd meant.
“Your importing and exporting,” you elaborated. “That's where your money comes from, right? Because for a man who just flew into the country, it's interesting that you've already got a joint on you. Can't imagine customs just allows you to enter the country with marijuana.”
“You certainly ask quite a lot of questions,” he pointed out, once more avoiding answering you. “You have a knack for focusing on the wrong details of this evening, love.”
His hands on your hips shifted you in his lap until you were fully settled on his cock, the appendage now pressed between your cunt and his abdomen. All thoughts about who he was and what he did for work vanished from your mind at the feel of his own clear interest in you. A jolt of heat shot straight towards your cunt, your tongue pressing against the back of your teeth as you fought not to let your body take over.
Apparently Raymond had finished dancing around the reason why you were here, though. His blunt nails dug firmly into the flesh of your hips before he urged you to move along him, grinding you down against the underside of his cock beneath the water. The delicious friction caused your thighs to tighten around his waist, your nails biting into those broad shoulders of his in return.
With his head still tipped back against the edge of the tub, his lips curved into a pleased smile. “That's better,” he praised quietly. “Now you're getting it.”
Eyelids fluttering at his words, your lips parted on a soft gasp as his strong grip continued urging you back and forth on his lap, fingers still sharply digging into your hips. The slickness of the warm water caused you to glide effortlessly along him, and with each sensual roll of your hips, you felt him noticeably growing harder beneath you. It didn’t take long for that ache between your own thighs to become unbearable after the hours of sexual tension you’d already endured in his presence. Your cunt throbbed in your desperate need to feel him inside of you instead of like this.
As you kept shifting in his lap, one of his hands began to snake its way up your side, his fingertips teasingly grazing over your ribcage and glossing over the swell of your breast as it ascended upwards. You whimpered faintly when the pad of his thumb brushed over your nipple, but his hand didn't stop until his index and thumb gripped your chin between them. Without a word, his gaze held yours before he roughly and unexpectedly pulled your mouth down towards his.
The kiss wasn't gentle or hungry. It was demanding and controlled, just like everything else about him. With your brain muddied from the pleasure tickling its way up your spine as you continued grinding along him, you melted into Raymond’s chest without a thought, your lips working against his. His fingers released your chin and his hand slid back down your body until he was cupping your ass in his palm, his large hand encouraging your movements.
Fingernails releasing his shoulders, your arms slid around Raymond’s neck as you drew your wet, naked body flush against his. Still rocking along his lap, the water and bubbles in the tub began to gently slosh around you both. Too dazed by the way he was kissing you as you ground against his hardened length with an increasing, frenzied motion, you hadn’t noticed that his other hand had moved from your hip until you felt his cock shifting beneath you. The second Raymond had readjusted himself underneath you, you rocked your hips forward just for your throbbing entrance to bump against the thick head of his cock.
Breaking apart from his mouth on a whine, you felt Raymond’s hips shift beneath you in the bath, pushing the tip of himself upwards until he’d partially slipped himself inside of you. Your head fell back over your shoulders at finally feeling the stretch of your walls around him, a soft moan tumbling past your lips. Both of his hands found their way to the swell of your ass, gently urging you to sink fully down onto him.
“That’s it, love,” he encouraged in a deep purr. “There you go.”
Eyes falling shut as you finally lowered completely down onto his lap, fully taking him inside of you, you circled your hips along him a few times as you savored the feel of him. But he filled you so completely that you couldn’t remain still for long, your body craving more than just the tantalizing fullness. Beginning to move slowly at first, your head raised again as you opened your eyes and met Raymond’s stare. He was still sitting there with his head casually tipped back and resting against the edge of the bathtub, gazing up at you from behind those steamed up lenses. His slightly parted lips were minutely curved at the corners into a self-satisfied smile as he watched you begin to bounce along him.
“Feel good?” he questioned with the slightest edge of amusement.
Dropping your gaze away from that almost teasing look on his face, you noticed a few droplets of water running down the length of his neck as your pussy involuntarily clenched around him at the question. He looked so calm, so unaffected by you, that it somehow had your pace beginning to increase. Because fuck he did feel good with your arms loosely wrapped around his neck, the front of you gliding seamlessly along his chest beneath the warm water as you moved.
“Yes,” you breathed out.
A throaty purr met your answer before his hand firmly squeezed the plushness of your ass. Feeling weightless beneath the water as you rode him, you could already tell that it wouldn’t take much for you to fall apart. Maybe it was a combination of the weed, the alcohol, his cock, and the warmth and steam filling the oversized bathroom, but your vision had already grown fuzzy from pleasure at the edges.
With the way your body was rocking against his, your submerged breasts pressed against his chest and easily sliding back and forth against his skin as you fucked him, the water and bubbles had begun to create small ripples of waves around you both. But above the sound of the moving water, you realized you’d been making quiet, needy whines with each roll of your hips into his. Apparently you had indeed reached the part of the evening where your brain had turned off, because you felt far too good to care about being quiet.
“Getting close, love?” Raymond questioned sedately.
Eyes rising to once more meet his, you knew that you were in fact nearing your climax–you could feel it closing in on you. Your thighs trembled on either side of his hips as you kept moving along him, your pace growing somewhat erratic as the water sloshed and splattered noisily against the sides of the bathtub. Breath coming in sharp and ragged, you could feel your chest becoming tight each time you fully sank back down onto him and his cock hit that spot that made you shudder.
“Yes,” you gasped.
He nodded his head once, the corner of his lips still gently curled upwards. “Good,” he murmured.
Despite how quickly you were starting to fall apart, Raymond looked entirely in control and relaxed beneath you. While you could feel beads of sweat trickling down the back of your neck, and your mind had gone a bit hazy, Raymond continued to sit there contentedly watching you ride him. The only thing that gave away your effect on him was the faint crease between his brows and the flush on his cheeks.
For the briefest second, you worried that he wasn’t enjoying this as much as you were with how composed he still looked, but then you felt him move underneath you. His large hands continued to grip your ass firmly in his hold just as his bottom lip rolled back, teeth sinking firmly into it. A flicker of something fierce passed over his features, and the hint of warning on his face made your thighs involuntarily tighten around his hips in anticipation.
Raymond began driving up into you, his thrusts sharp and purposeful as his hands on your ass slammed you back down onto him. A loud moan tore itself out of you almost instantly, the sound echoing obscenely around the bathroom. Your arms tightened more securely around his neck as he began roughly fucking you, your forehead dropping down towards his as your brain completely stopped working altogether. All you could feel was the searing pleasure coursing through you as you struggled to keep pace with him.
Except you weren’t able to hold out much longer, not with the way he was pistoning himself into you over and over. With a strangled cry of pleasure marking the exact second you did, you finally came on his cock. Your cunt fluttered around him as Raymond continued, your forehead slipping away from his as you buried your face against the side of his neck, your whimpers muffled against his skin. White burned across your closed lids as the sounds of his rough breaths and pleasured grunts fell straight into your ear, your body shivering as he dragged you through your orgasm while chasing his own.
In your haze of bliss, you were vaguely aware of Raymond finally losing that carefully crafted composure he’d had all night. He was fucking up into you with a relentless, single-minded purpose, and the sounds of his groans and panting breaths above the splashing water caused goosebumps to burst over your skin as your body continued to shake with your own release. It only took him a few more pumps, your hips sluggishly fighting to move with his, before he sunk so deep inside of you that you felt the familiar sting of pleasure and pain burn through you. When Raymond finally came himself, he loosed the most beautiful, deep noise of relief that you’d ever heard.
Both of you were left boneless beneath the bubbles afterwards, your arms still wrapped around his neck as you sat with your face hidden against it. His cock gradually began to soften inside of you, but he made no move to separate himself from you. Instead, his hands moved from your ass to rest against your lower back, holding you almost tenderly against his chest as you tried to come back to yourself.
Still leaning against him, your head faintly rose and fell with each of his heavy breaths, your own breasts heaving against his chest as you tried to catch your own breath. Eyelids feeling heavy, they remained closed as you contentedly let the warm water lap against your shoulders. The thought of moving from his lap didn’t even cross your mind.
“You should stay,” Raymond whispered, voice ragged.
At the sudden, unexpected suggestion from him, your brain attempted to reset itself in an effort to process the words that’d broken the thick weight of satisfaction in the air. He wanted you to stay the night with him? Here in his hotel room? A woman that he barely knew? You weren’t exceptionally well-versed in one night stands, but you knew that staying the night wasn’t generally part of the deal. And you got the feeling that Raymond didn’t typically sleep with his hookups.
But you’d be lying if you said you weren’t tempted at the idea. All throughout dinner you’d felt something unexplainable while you’d been sitting with Raymond. He’d been mysterious and evasive, but he’d also been sincere and charming in an oddly genuine way that you weren’t familiar with. Had you not been the only one who’d felt that odd little something between you both tonight?
“You want me to stay the night?” you repeated quietly.
One of his hands began to carefully make its way up your back, the tips of his fingers gently brushing over you beneath the water. Unable to help yourself, you arched into his touch, your heart still racing in your chest from the exertion of sex. You wondered if he could feel it pounding against his own.
“I find myself enjoying your company,” he confessed, fingers delicately trailing over your skin. “I’d rather you didn’t leave quite yet.”
The faintest smile gradually drew itself across your lips as your eyes remained closed, the scent of rose and vanilla laced into the skin of his neck where your nose was still pressed. You began relaxing further against him, finding yourself admittedly enjoying his strange company as well, whoever the hell he truly was.
“I suppose I’m already doing a lot of things I probably shouldn’t tonight,” you answered softly, still smiling. “What’s one more?”
