#Dave York smut

[joelalorian]

Under False Pretenses - Chapter Eleven

Stepdad!Dave York x f!reader | wc: 4924 | masterlist

Summary: A challenging mission, whirlwind marriage, and an unexpected yet captivating stepdaughter push Dave York to the brink as secrets, feelings, and loyalties collide.

Warnings: Explicit, 18+ mdni. Stepdad trope. Unspecified age gap. Soft, sexy, and intense Dave. Nicknames and terms of endearment. Cursing. Secret spy shit is not so secret anymore - Dave clues you in on nearly everything. Angst. Smut - somno PiV.. Injuries to human and dog. Vengeful Dave.

Series Masterlist

Dave raced back to town after dropping the girls off at their grandparents’ with a half-baked explanation and teary goodbyes. Over the years, they learned not to ask too many questions and happily took the girls. On the way, he called Ari.

“What’s up, boss?”

“I just left the girls with Carol’s parents. They haven’t seen them in a while and plan to take them to the Poconos for the week,” Dave explained.

“Good. I’m glad they’re safe and out of the way,” Ari replied. After a long pause, he added, “That’s not all you called for, is it?”

Dave sighed. “No. No, it’s not.”

“I’ve got eyes on her, don’t worry,” Ari said, reading him like a book. “I’ll let you know the moment something seems off.”

“I’m trusting you, Ari. She’s…”

“I know, boss. She’s important to you. That’s all I need to know. I’m on it.” Ari ended the call, leaving Dave to focus on strategizing for the upcoming meeting with Roger, Anna, and their mystery asset he believed in his heart was McCall.

An hour later, Dave had just pulled into the garage when his phone buzzed with an incoming call. “What do you have?” he greeted the caller.

“He’s still on her,” Ari’s voice came through the line, clipped and urgent. “Saw him near the coffee shop as she popped in. He’s following her to the park now. It’s McCall, no question.”

“Dammit!” Dave slammed his palm against the steering wheel, jaw clenched. “How close?”

“Too close for comfort,” Ari replied. “York, he’s not being subtle, either. Almost like he wants her to notice, for it to get back to you.”

His blood pressure spiked again. “He’s fucking toying with me. Stay on them. Don’t let her out of your sight. I don’t want him getting near her again.”

“You got it, boss,” Ari replied, his tone grim. “Want me to tell the boys to stock the safe house?”

“Yeah, you know the drill.”

“Will it just be the two of you or…”

“Just us. I called it off with Lisa last night. She can fucking fend for herself. Her car isn’t here anyway.” Dave ended the call, his mind racing. He couldn’t leave you exposed. He shouldn’t have left you alone this morning, but he had to take care of the girls first.

McCall was sending a message, and the longer he waited to act, the more danger you were in.

Dave raced inside. The house was empty as he packed an overnight bag to stash with his go bag in the back of the SUV. He went to your room next, shoving a bunch of stuff into a suitcase, careful to grab the things he knew you needed like that lotion you used and your favorite hoodie. He grabbed supplies for Ranger as well.

When everything was loaded in his SUV, Dave finally took a breath and texted you.

Dave: Can you come home? I need to talk to you.

You read his message right away but took your damned time responding. He could see the little dots appear and disappear, only to reappear again as you tried to come up with a response. Finally, after a lifetime of suspense, his phone buzzed.

You: Ok be there in 10

Those were the ten longest minutes of his life as he waited for you. Dave spent the entire time pacing, hating himself for how dismissive he was with you the evening before. You didn’t deserve that. He’d been so focused on protecting his girls that he didn’t have the mental capacity for anything else. Unfortunately, that left you getting the short end of the stick, and he deeply regretted that.

The sound of your car in the driveway set his nerves at ease. Until he saw your face as you entered the house, that was.

Dave could see at once that your walls were up. Arms wrapped tight around yourself after you disconnected Ranger’s leash. The dog sensed your energy, hovering at your side. Dave knew this was his doing, and he promised to make it right.

His footsteps echoed on the floor – he forgot to take his shoes off, but he couldn’t give a shit less – as he approached you. With slow, deliberate movements, he eased your arms apart, grasping one of your hands in his larger one when they fell to your sides.

“Come with me, please?” He phrased it as a question to ease your nerves, but he was already leading you to the back porch.

The sun was falling low in the sky, the golden light cascading over you as he led you to the porch swing. Ranger sat dutifully at your feet.

Dave watched your every move, his chest tightening when you turned to meet his gaze.

“Is something wrong?” you asked, your expression matching your voice, wary and uncertain.

He struggled with how much to tell you and finally settled on a simple, “You’re in danger. That man that’s been following you? He’s… dangerous.” Dave wanted to kick himself for how lame he was being. He just couldn’t think straight with you looking at him like that, all wounded yet hopeful.

You scoffed. “Yeah, I already figured that much out after the way you reacted yesterday.”

“I need to take you away from here, to somewhere safe,” Dave explained softly, his hand still grasping yours.

He’s not sure what he expected, but your reaction confused him. You just nodded with an inscrutable expression on your face. He kinda thought you’d put up a fight.

“Where?”

“A safe house. The guys are stocking it up now, so it’ll be ready for you when we arrive.” Fear, determination, and something deeper flashed in his eyes as he gazed at you. “Listen, I’ll tell you everything I can once we’re safe, but I need you to trust me. Ok?”

He saw the same things reflected in your eyes when you nodded without question.

You didn’t know how to feel or what to think as Dave hustled you and Ranger into his car, your stuff already packed and loaded. The drive was quiet as Dave navigated the darkening roads. You stole glances at him, his jaw tight and one hand gripping yours like a lifeline.

“Dave,” you said softly, breaking the silence. “This man who’s been following me – who is he?”

“A threat,” Dave replied, his voice low as his eyes scanned the road. “One I can’t take lightly.”

“Obviously,” you snarked. “But why is he threatening me… us? There’s more to the story. I know there is. Please, just tell me.”

His eyes flashed to you quickly, hand tightening around yours again. “Ok. His name is Robert McCall. He’s my old commander from the team the guys and I were on.”

You nodded, encouraging him to continue.

“Some things happened, and we thought he died. Turns out he just faked his death and hid for years before resurfacing to come after the guys and me for some shit we did – things I will not talk about right now,” Dave warned.

Again, you nodded, squeezing his hand in support. “Ok, I won’t ask about those ‘things’ then.”

“Anyway, we came to an understanding around the time that Carol was diagnosed with cancer, and we parted on equitable terms. Or so I thought. In the few years since then, he’s… changed. Became angry at the government and everything it made us do back in the day. He’s, uh… he’s part of this case I’m investigating.”

Silence fell over the two of you again; the only sound in the vehicle was Ranger’s rhythmic panting. You mulled over Dave’s explanation, and, despite your overwhelming curiosity, you didn’t press for more. Instead, you pulled his hand up to your lips and kissed his knuckles. The warmth of his eyes when he looked at you was enough, and you let the car fall quiet.

After a while, you caved and broke the silence.

“Why isn’t my mom coming with us?” Not that you wanted her there, but still, you wondered. If you and the girls were in danger, surely she was, too?

“There’s something really important I need to tell you,” Dave began, his grip tightening around your hand.

“OK?” you replied hesitantly.

“Your mom and I… the marriage was never real.”

The truth bomb left you stunned, but not for long. So much made sense now – the weird interactions and lack of affection, Dave spending nights with you…

“Why didn’t you say something sooner?” you wondered.

With a grimace, he glanced between you and the road. “It was part of our cover for the operation. I couldn’t risk the wrong ears hearing and repeating the truth. It was easier to keep it a secret from everyone and play charades.”

Silence fell for a few minutes as you let that sink in. A roller coaster of emotions swirled within you, but the most important one was a sense of relief.

“I was planning on telling you everything the moment the mission ended,” Dave added, breaking the uncomfortable silence.

You nodded then. “I understand. It all makes sense, though. There were so many odd things about the marriage that made me wonder what the hell was going on. At the same time, I didn’t want to know.”

Dave glanced between you and the road again. He had a hard time keeping his eyes off you. “Is that why you never asked questions about me and her?”

“Yep. I thought, what did it matter if the marriage was real or fake or whatever? I figured it wasn’t for love. Otherwise, you’d never have gotten involved with me. Even in the moments when it hurt to see you with her, I still felt like you weren’t really with her. You know? All I really cared about was just getting to be with you when I could.”

He pulled your hand to his face, touching his lips to your knuckles in a soft, soothing kiss. “There was never any love, I swear. It was all fake – for this case. My team at the DIA created the cover story, Lisa volunteered for the role, and I ‘bought’ the house to get close to Roger.”

You shrugged, your eyes a little brighter. “Well, I’m glad to have confirmation that I’m not a true homewrecker. I couldn’t understand what you’d seen in my mom anyway, so I’m very pleased to know it wasn’t real. Otherwise, I’d have to question your judgment… and taste in women.”

Laughter filled the cabin of the SUV. “I do wonder, though,” you said, contemplating your mom’s accusations the night before. “Did my mom hope it would become a real marriage? She accused me of trying to steal you from her.”

A guttural groan slipped past Dave’s lips as he shook his head. He told you the conversation that occurred between the two of them the night before and how he put an end to the ruse by contacting his boss.

“I can’t fault her for trying, I guess,” you said, rolling your eyes at your mother’s crazy behavior. “I’m glad it’s officially over between you two, even if it was fake all along.”

“Me, too,” Dave admitted.

The lingering tension between the two of you dissipated now that the air was cleared. The conversation shifted to mundane things as the SUV ate up the miles.

Sometime later, Dave pulled to a stop in front of a cabin nestled deep in the woods, far removed from the chaos of the outside world. Towering pines surrounded the structure in every direction. Dave ushered you and Ranger inside after letting the dog sniff around and do his business. Dave locked the door behind him and checked every window to confirm they were secure.

You stood in the living room, in front of a glowing fire with your arms crossed as you watched him move about. “How long are we staying here?”

“As long as it takes,” he replied, his tone leaving no room for argument. When he finally stopped moving, the weight of everything seemed to crash over him. He leaned against the wall, his head dropping into his hands.

“Dave…” you began, stepping closer until you stood a few feet directly in front of him.

He looked up, his chocolate eyes raw and vulnerable in a way you’d never seen before. “I can’t lose you,” he said, his voice breaking. He pushed off the wall, closing the space between you in half a stride. “I’ve been an idiot. Shutting you out like that while I made sure the girls were safe. I’m sorry.”

His head fell forward, forehead bumping against yours as you stared into his eyes, heart pounding. “Dave…”

“I love you,” he said, the words spilling from his mouth in a rush, like a dam giving way to flood waters. “I love you, and the thought of something happening to you – I can’t handle it.”

Tears stung your eyes as his words sank in, the raw sincerity in his voice undoing you. “I… I love you, too,” you whispered. A warm wave of relief flooded your senses at finally vocalizing that thing you’d been feeling for months but were too scared to admit.

Dave reached for you, his hands cupping your face as he pressed his forehead to yours. “I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you and the girls safe,” he murmured.

When his lips met yours, it wasn’t like the previous times you kissed – it was deeper, more certain, as though he were pouring every ounce of himself into the kiss.

His hands were everywhere, caressing every bit of you he could reach as he slowly removed your clothes. Dave was soft and sensual in his movements, each kiss reverent, each touch like he was handling delicate crystal stemware. You returned each kiss and caress with tenderness of your own, knowing that’s what he needed right now.

You made love multiple times that night, alone in the cabin with Ranger standing guard outside the bedroom door like a furry sentinel.

In the morning, Dave woke first, the buzzing of an incoming message on his phone stirring him. After reading the quick note from Ari, he turned to face you.

You were splayed on your stomach, skin bare to the waist where the sheet and blanket covered you. Your skin gleamed in the early morning light entering the window. The sight took his breath away.

You loved him, just as he loved you.

It blew his mind.

Dave was in awe of you. How you made him feel, how you treated his girls like they were your own, how you fit into his life right from the first moment you met. It was meant to be, right? Surely, it was.

Desire swelled within him, and he pulled the covers further down your body, revealing the naked skin of your dimpled ass and thighs to his burning gaze. Moving with the sureness of a silent predator, Dave shifted to hover over your back and eased one hand slowly, tenderly between your thighs. Thick fingers tested your readiness for him, finding you wet and waiting from your night of lustful activities.

Torn between waking you with his tongue or his cock, Dave thought back to that night the two of you played Never Have I Ever. When you shared with him that you not only never visited a sex shop, but you also never had someone take you apart while you were still sleeping in the prone position.

His fingers dipped back inside you before coating his cock with your essence. When the overheated skin glistened and his hand glided along the wet shaft, he pitched forward to gently nudge his cock between your slightly parted thighs as his belly pressed against your luscious ass. Having worked you over several times during the night, Dave was able to sink into your depths easily, yet your pussy still gripped him tight.

Body weight supported by strong arms placed at your sides, Dave rocked his hips, setting a smooth pace as he fucked into you, head tipped forward to watch the meat of your ass jiggle with each thrust. You began to wake when he hit that spot you loved, sleepy moans slipping from your pretty lips.

He brought one hand up to brush a whisp of your hair away from your face so he could watch your expression as you came to full wakefulness with him buried deep inside you.

“Mmmmm, Dave,” you keened, eyes flying open to look at him over your shoulder.

“Good morning, my love,” he greeted between quiet grunts. His hips moved faster as you started to push back against him, body trembling as the pleasure washed over you.

When his arms began to shake with a mix of muscle fatigue and pleasure, Dave slumped against your back, pressing himself deeper inside you as he wriggled one hand beneath your body to tease your clit.

Neither of you heard the sound of the front door opening or Ranger’s playful bark as someone he knew entered the cabin, too lost in the haze of pending orgasm. Dave had you coming in minutes, his panting breaths in your ear as his hips worked into a frenzied pace and you screamed into the pillow. He followed closely behind, pulling out at the last second, stroking his cock for a beat before he shot ropes of cum across your dimpled ass. After the last drop fell, he smacked your fleshy rump and watched as your cum-covered ass jiggled deliciously.

“Now that’s a fucking sight,” Dave said in a voice still gruff with sleep.

“Breakfast is ready if you sex fiends are done in there!” A voice shouted from the kitchen, wrenching a scream from your lungs as you stared over your shoulder at Dave in terror.

Dave laughed at your reaction, patting your ass again. “Relax, Firecracker. It’s just Ari.”

Climbing from the bed, he cleaned up the mess left behind on your ass and slipped on a pair of joggers and a tee shirt. When he turned back to face you, he held up one of his tee shirts in one hand and your clothes from yesterday in the other. You were too busy burying your head in the pillow in sheer embarrassment to notice.

“Come on, baby,” Dave chuckled. “It’s nothing he hasn’t heard before. Get dressed, and let’s go see what he brought for breakfast.”

“Can’t you just bring whatever it is in here?” you whined, sitting up to slip on his shirt. “There’s no way in hell I’m going out there right now.”

“Suit yourself,” he shrugged, stepping aside when he opened the door to let Ranger bound into the room to see you before shutting the door again. He nodded a greeting to Ari as the sound of your giggles from the pup jumping on the bed to lick your voice echoed behind him.

“She not coming out?” Ari questioned, a knowing smirk gracing his lips as he drew a few breakfast sandwiches from the brown paper bag on the counter.

“What do you think? You just had to embarrass her, didn’t you?” Depleted after a night of active, enthusiastic lovemaking with you, Dave bit into his sandwich with the vigor of a starving man as Ari chuckled. Three bites, and it was nearly devoured.

“Have you told her any of the stories from—”

“Of course not!” Dave snapped. “Why the fuck would I tell her stories about my disastrous, youthful single days in the military? I want her to stick around, not ditch me for being a young, dumb manwhore.”

Ari chuckled as Dave snatched up the remaining sandwich and a can of Diet Coke before darting back to the bedroom. He could kill Ari for his shit timing, but they had important things to discuss, and time was of the essence.

“Here you go, kitten,” he teased, handing you the items with a flourish. “You can hide in here for a while more. The others are coming to go over the plan for the case. I’ll let you know when it’s okay to come out.”

You waved him off, mouth already full of bacon, egg, and cheese on an everything bagel, as you turned on the TV to keep yourself entertained.

By midday, Dave had a plan in place. The meeting was set with the location being scoped by Kovac and Resnik. Ari would remain behind at the cabin to ensure your safety. With Ari currently walking Ranger around the cabin parameter, the safe house was silent save for the methodical fabric rustling and quiet metal clinking as Dave packed his gear.

His movements were sharp and efficient as he double-checked his service weapon and extra clips. The dim glow of the overhead light cast long shadows across the wooden floors, stretching toward where you stood, arms wrapped tightly around yourself as you watched him silently.

He was leaving, and you knew nothing about the plan, where he was going, if he would return in one piece. You were still in the dark about it all. Plausible deniability, Dave had said. It’s for your safety, Firecracker.

Utter bullshit. You knew enough for plausible deniability to be out the window.

“You’re really going without telling me anything?” you asked again, hating how your voice wavered despite the steel you tried injecting into it.

Dave stopped what he was doing, turning to face you, his dark, soulful eyes locked on yours. The look he gave you – steady, unwavering, full of warmth – should have been reassuring, but nothing could stop the fear in your chest from coiling tighter.

You didn’t have a good feeling about this, any of this. You’d at least like to know where he’d be in case something happened because deep down, you knew something would.

“I don’t have a choice,” he replied in a low but firm voice as he stepped toward you. He pulled you against the hardness of his chest, the heat of his body slightly calming your nerves as he held you. “If my old commander is involved, I need to know what he’s planning. He is lethal, and I can’t put you at risk. Me and the guys may be the only ones who can stop him.”

Resting your head against Dave’s broad shoulder, you breathed in his scent. He was all Irish Spring soap and expensive cologne, the aroma equaling the masculine strength he commanded. “I get that. You have a job to do, but do you have to leave me here? Alone? Wouldn’t I be better off with you?”

His grip tightened around you as he kissed the crown of your head. “Ari is staying here with you. He’s one of the best – I wouldn’t let him stay here with you if he wasn’t. You’ll be safe with him and Ranger.”

Safe.

The word felt flimsy when the threat looming over both of you had already crept into your life and taken root.

You searched his face, desperate to tamp down the horrible feeling swirling in your gut. “Promise me you’ll come back,” you murmured. You couldn’t lose him now, ever, not after finally admitting the depth of your feelings for each other.

Dave’s jaw tightened. His fingers flexed slightly where they held you before one hand slid upward to take your chin between his forefinger and thumb. Titling your head upwards with his soft grip, Dave’s chocolate eyes burned into you, full of fire and promise. ‘I’ll always come back to you,” he said, his voice deep and filled with emotion. “You are my life now. You and my girls.”

The warehouse was a skeletal structure, its rusted beams arching over the open floor like the ribs of some long-dead beast. The stench of oil and damp cement clung to the air, mixing with the distant hum of the city just beyond the docks. The location was so unlike their previous meeting places, speaking volumes of the sudden change in dynamics with this particular meeting.

Dave stepped through the squeaky, weathered metal door, his footsteps echoing in the cavernous space. Ahead, Roger and Anna stood waiting beneath the dim overhead lights.

Roger grinned, casual as ever with his hands in his pockets like he had nothing to fear. “York. Right on time for once.”

Dave didn’t slow his stride. His gaze was sharp, cutting straight through their act. ‘Where’s… our mutual friend?” he demanded, his voice controlled but laced with an edge of impatience.

Anna’s painted lips curled at the edges, her dark eyes assessing. “He had… other priorities.”

His stomach twisted, but he forced himself to remain impassive. “Convenient,” he said dryly. “His presence was the whole fucking point of the meeting.”

Roger chuckled, making Dave’s skin crawl as he watched the man swirl the amber liquid in his glass. Even in a fucking dingy warehouse, Roger found his way to a glass of hard liquor. “Relax, York. You’ll meet him soon enough.”

Jaw clenching, Dave silently counted to ten. He had to play this carefully. They didn’t know he already knew McCall’s true identity and suspected his ultimate goal. The entire operation could unravel if he was not careful.

The conversation drifted into logistics – coded talk of shipments and handoffs, scheduling another meeting before the final stage of high-level governmental information was exchanged – but Dave barely heard it. His mind was elsewhere, coiled tight with the realization that McCall had purposefully avoided this meeting.

It wasn’t a delay.

It was a fucking message.

And Dave had a gut-wrenching feeling that the message had been delivered straight to you.

With careful wording and barely suppressed annoyance, he wrapped up the meeting. With phone already in hand when he stepped outside, Dave didn’t waste a second in calling Resnik and Kovac.

“Did you catch all that? He wasn’t fucking there!” he spat, breaking into a run for his SUV, no longer caring about breaking his cover.

Resnik cursed under his breath. “Think he’s onto us?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Dave snapped, his gut twisting into knots. “Get to the safe house. Now!”

The drive to the safe house felt interminable, the miles passing too slowly as he struck the steering wheel frustratingly. His calls to Ari went unanswered. This could not be good.

How did he not see this meeting for what it was?

A fucking diversion.

He would kill McCall if anything happened to you.

The only peace of mind for Dave was the fact that his daughters were safe with their grandparents.

When he finally pulled to a stop in front of the cabin, he knew something was wrong.

The front door was open, swinging slightly on its hinges. The porch light flickered, illuminating the stillness of the surrounding woods as twilight settled in.

Cold dread washed over him.

“Stay sharp,” he ordered when Resnik and Kovac exited their vehicles behind him. All three men drew their weapons.

The interior of the cabin was wrecked. Furniture overturned, broken glass scattered across the floor, the unmistakable scent of blood in the air.

And then he saw Ari.

The man was slumped against the wall, one hand pressed to his side, blood seeping through his fingers. Ranger lay beside him, wounded and whining pitifully while Ari’s free hand covered the wound beneath his matted fur.

On the floor in front of them sat the heart necklace Dave gave you for Christmas, the chain snapped.

Pulse pounding in his ears, Dave dropped to his knees. He ignored the pain of the impact with the hardwood floor as his fingers closed around the necklace. “What the hell happened?”

Ari’s eyelids fluttered, his face pale from blood loss. “He… came out of nowhere. Overpowered me and stabbed Ranger when this guy tried to bite him. He fucking took her.” He coughed then, visibly wincing with the pain of it. “I couldn’t stop him. I’m sorry.”

The cabin disappeared as Dave’s vision narrowed. His anger sparked like a live wire, his breath coming in sharp, barely controlled breaths. He felt like he could fucking cry with the mix of emotions swirling within his chest. “Who?” Dave asked, though he already knew the answer.

Ari coughed again; a spot of blood mixed with his spittle as he spoke. “McCall.”

The confirmation sent a wave of fury crashing through him, his worries turning dark and suffocating. “Did you see which way he went?” Dave’s voice stayed deadly calm, not belying the roiling emotions bubbling wildly under the surface.

“North… in a black SUV…” Ari lost consciousness then, and Dave knelt in front of him, frozen.

Movement behind him broke Dave from his daze. Resnik was already moving, his phone out as he finished a call. “Help is on the way.”

Dave slowly rose to his feet, his hands clenched into white-knuckled fists. His mind whirled, already calculating, strategizing how best to track McCall down. But beneath it all, something primal fought its way to the surface. McCall took you, hurt your dog in the process, and there would be hell to pay.

McCall would pay with his life. Dave could promise that much.

Turning to Kovac, he said, “Stay with them. Make sure they both get patched up. She’ll kill me if Ranger doesn’t pull through.” The other man nodded solemnly, and Dave turned to Resnik. “You’re with me.”

The two men stalked toward his SUV. Dave’s body was coiled with a surging wave of rage that promised nothing short of scorched earth-level destruction.

tbc

Chapter Twelve

tag list: @imdrinkingpedro @lillaydee @ppascalrain @yorksgirl @missladym1981 @baronessvonglitter @slimybeth69 @mellymbee @untamedheart81 @inept-the-magnificent @wannab-urs @thundermartini @peelieblue @harriedandharassed @mysterious-moonstruck-musings @sunnytuliptime @vie-is-punk @lovely-vamp-princess

[punkshort]

Ice Cold

Pairing: Dave York x f!reader

Summary: Dave ghosts you, so you get even by dating someone else in the office. That doesn't sit well with Dave.

Warnings: language, angst, jealousy, possessiveness, smut (18+ MDNI), unprotected piv sex, fingering, pussy pronouns, one spank, infidelity, minor violence, office sex, sexual tension

WC: 6.5K

Collection Masterlist

You had become a part of his routine without him even realizing it. Twice a week, minimum, he would seek you out. And it was always on a night when he was doing some work "off the books". Whether it was tailing a target, doing some recon, or actually finishing the job itself, he always found himself driving to your side of town, parking his car a few blocks away, and under the cover of night he would sneak up to your apartment and quietly undo the lock, letting himself inside.

You weren't aware of the pattern. At least, he didn't think you were. The days of the week were always different, but it was always in the middle of the night and he was always dressed in all black.

Hell, maybe you did know. If you did, you never brought it up. Even after his injury, you never asked any questions.

Maybe that was why he kept coming back to you. It was nice having someone who didn't pry, someone he couldn't implicate. You both wanted the same thing - that thing being him fucking you senseless while you babbled his name and clawed at his back, or the sheets, or the wall, or the goddamn floor. He had been seeing you long enough that he had fucked you all over your apartment.

But on that particular night, Dave realized how much he had grown to depend on the release you gave him. How much he thought about coming to see you once his work was done. And more importantly, how much he was growing to care for you.

That wasn't good. When did he become so reckless? One wrong move because he was distracted with thoughts of you and he was dead.

So that was how he found himself staring up at your apartment building, sitting silently in his car. He squinted, searching the rows and rows of windows until he finally saw one with a familiar, small orchid. As if on cue, his cock began to swell. He clenched his jaw and palmed himself through his pants while he weighed his options.

It took every ounce of willpower to start his engine and pull away from the curb.

It had been three weeks since Dave had come to see you and it was driving you insane. You sat right outside his fucking office every single day, watching him go in and out of meetings, chat with executives by the coffee machine, and take phone calls with clients while laughing and resting his feet on top of his desk.

All the while, he hardly spared you a single glance.

That wasn't necessarily new. Ever since this thing you had began, he did his best to keep his distance from you at work. You assumed it was part of the excitement for him: pretending the other didn't exist until a day later he would show up at two in the morning and fuck your brains out.

But something felt different, now. Something was off. And he never, ever, went more than a week without seeing you.

When he stood to speak in meetings, he wouldn't look in your direction whatsoever. If you dropped something off on his desk, he didn't look up. He ignored you when you tried to say hi as he breezed past your desk but if your co-worker on the other side of your cubical said hello to him, he would smile warmly and greet them in return, making your blood boil.

After having your feelings hurt for maybe the fifth time that week, you had just about enough. You snatched a random file folder off your desk and marched up to his office. Your knuckles rapped loudly on the door while your heart did cartwheels in your chest, and when he called out from the other side to enter, you took a deep breath and stepped inside, closing the door quickly behind you.

"What the fuck is your problem?" you seethed. Dave's shoulders stiffened when he heard your voice and slowly turned away from his computer to pin you with a steely glare.

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me," you said angrily. "What the hell is going on? You're icing me out. What did I do?"

"You didn't do anything," he said, tone clipped. "I'm busy."

"Busy?" you repeated mockingly. "You've been busy for three weeks? You can't even look me in the eye most days. What is this? Some weird power trip?"

Dave shook his head and tensed his jaw. "No."

Silence fell between you at that point. You had thought he would have put up more of a fight, argued back, done or said something, but he just fucking... sat there, gaze flickering between you and a spot on the wall behind you.

"So... what?" you asked, voice quieter but still cold. "This is over? You don't want to see me anymore?"

You watched him work his jaw while tapping an expensive looking pen anxiously on a blank pad of paper. His eyes watched the movement while the silence stretched on painfully between you. When the answer became clear based on the way he avoided your eye and refused to speak, your shoulders sagged and you swallowed tightly.

"Right," you said bitterly. Without thinking, you angrily threw the file you were holding at his chest. He jumped and tried to catch it, but gave up when papers fluttered all over his desk and floor.

And he still didn't say a fucking word.

"Could've at least been a man and told me you were done with me to my fucking face," you snarled, then turned on your heel and disappeared back out into the office. You resisted the urge to slam his door behind you, knowing it would have caused a scene, and decided at the last minute to just leave it ajar.

And for the first time possibly ever, when Dave stepped out of his office to leave for the day, you were already gone.

Michael was nice. A little nerdy, a little awkward, but he was relatively good looking and he was sweet. He held doors open for you, always asked questions to get to know you better instead of always talking about himself, and never once pressured you to go home with him, even after you had been out with him several times.

Then again, he was probably too timid to ask you back to his place. Which was fine with you, given you were still struggling to recover from your break up, or... whatever it was that happened between you and Dave.

The week following your outburst in Dave's office, he disappeared for five days. Some people said he was on a business trip, so you chose to believe them. In that time, you had gone on two dates and three lunches with Michael.

He worked in your office, too. He had trained you when you first started and while you hadn't given him a second thought once your training was complete, you caught his gaze lingering on you in the break room the day after your argument with Dave and you made a stupid decision. You flirted with him, asked him if he was seeing anyone, and of course, he asked you to the movies that weekend.

Initially, you had made a rash decision based entirely around making Dave jealous. But when he disappeared for a week and you kept seeing Michael, your attitude shifted a bit. You had decided it was best to move on, and who better to move on with than a nice guy who treated you well?

And it really felt like it was working, too. When you ran into Michael at the water cooler, it gave you butterflies and you couldn't stop yourself from smiling. But in the back of your mind, Dave always lurked. You knew you'd run into him again. It was impossible not to. But when you finally did, it managed to take you completely off guard.

The day it happened, you and Michael were sitting together in the corner of the lunchroom. You had just finished your food and were listening to him tell you a story about a car accident he witnessed on the way into work that morning when you saw movement out of the corner of your eye.

You knew it was Dave before you even saw him. It was like your body just sensed him nearby. Your skin felt flush under the heat of his gaze and your hand began to tremble in your lap when it seemed like he wasn't moving, just frozen and fucking staring. Nervously, you cleared your throat and tossed your hair over your shoulder to glance his way.

His eyes immediately locked with yours. He was gripping a mug of coffee so tightly that you could see the whites of his knuckles even from the opposite side of the room. Michael was still talking, oblivious to the tense moment you were sharing with another man right in front of him.

Another man who, when you were falling asleep at night, still imagined breaking into your apartment while you slept.

Another man who you could still feel inside of you.

Another man who was suddenly crossing the room and making a beeline for your table.

"York," Michael said, sounding surprised when Dave approached. "How was Akron?"

"Fine," Dave said, his eyes never leaving yours. You gulped.

Michael blinked and seemed to remember his manners, introducing you to Dave followed by not sure if you've met.

"We have," Dave replied. He finally tore his eyes away from you to fix Michael with a look that could melt steel when his hand rested nonchalantly on your thigh.

It was under the table, but Dave noticed. He noticed everything.

"She sits right outside my office," Dave reminded him before dragging his gaze back to you.

Michael chuckled and stammered something but you didn't listen. You couldn't. Not with the way your ears were ringing and your pulse thrumming so fast, you thought the whole room could hear.

"Is there something we can do for you?" Michael asked when the awkward silence had gone on too long. Had you even said a word yet? Jesus Christ.

"Yeah," Dave replied, shoving a fist into his pocket. His other hand still tightly gripped his mug and you could tell by the way he bounced a little on his heels and loosened his shoulders that he was trying to come off as relaxed, but you knew better. You knew Dave very well.

"Just wanted to check with you and make sure you're still free for that meeting later?"

It took you at least half a minute to realize Dave was speaking to you.

You straightened your back and crossed your legs under your skirt, forcing yourself to snap out of it.

"Uh, yeah," you mumbled. You had assumed he was just making it up, to fabricate an excuse for him to come over, but then he said, "At four. My office?"

Four. His office.

Your heart was hammering in your chest.

"Y-yeah. Yes."

"Don't keep her too long, York. We're catching dinner tonight, don't wanna be late," Michael said with a sweet, clueless grin in your direction. You tried to mirror him but the best you could do was a shaky smile.

Dave's eyes burned holes into you when he said, "That right? Somewhere nice?"

Michael began to talk about the Italian restaurant he had made reservations for, blabbering on and on about the Sunday sauce and the fucking bread they made in house. Meanwhile, you were wilting under Dave's glare and praying to whatever god was out there that you didn't faint from the pressure.

"Well, I'll do my best," Dave smirked, acknowledging Michael's original concern before swiveling around and disappearing back into the depths of the office.

"Guy's intense," Michael chuckled. You managed to choke out a soft laugh while you shakily cleaned up your lunch. "I didn't know you had meetings with him. What's his deal?"

"Uh, I don't know," you shrugged. "He's alright. Quiet. Keeps to himself."

"I notice he never really talks about himself. Always steers the conversation back to the other person. You ever notice that?"

You frowned and pursed your lips. Did Michael pick up on something between you and Dave?

"I don't think so. We don't talk much."

"When I asked about Akron, for instance, he dodged the question," Michael continued.

"Maybe there's just not much to say about Akron," you shrugged. Who the hell cared? You had bigger things to worry about.

A beat of silence passed between you as Michael walked you back to your desk, but thankfully once you got there, he was back to his usual self once again. He kissed your cheek and said he was looking forward to later, to which you smiled and agreed. But when you turned your back to sit down, Michael's eyes found Dave's from within his office. Michael gave him a terse nod and headed back in the direction of his desk halfway across the massive, open space, leaving you to panic for the next three hours over what the hell Dave really had planned for you at four o'clock.

One minute after four and you found yourself seated across from Dave in his office. You had brought a pad of paper and pen but you had no idea what you would need it for. You triple checked your calendar earlier - there was no meeting at four. So your anxiety just built up all afternoon and was on the verge of boiling over as you watched him calmly scroll through emails while casually pressing the tip of two fingers against his lower lip, giving you the impression he was deep in thought as you squirmed impatiently in your seat.

"You're a lot quieter than the last time you came in here."

Those were the first words he said to you. His gaze still remained fixed on his monitor while you formulated a response.

"What else is there to say?"

His dark eyes flickered over to you and you swore you saw something soft there, but he blinked and suddenly it was gone.

"Guess you're right," he murmured before focusing back on his computer. He waited a minute before adding, "Does he treat you well?"

You glanced at the clock: five after four.

"There's no meeting, is there?" you asked.

"Sure, there is."

Your eyes dropped to his and you swallowed tightly. Fuck, why did he have to look so good? He was just wearing a light blue button down and red tie, but his shoulders looked ready to burst out of the fabric and you kept fantasizing about that goddamn tie dangling in your face as his hands pushed your legs apart to make room for his hips.

"Is something wrong?" he asked, snapping you out of your reverie.

"No," you whispered hoarsely. You cleared your throat but you saw the corner of his mouth twitch and his eyes dart down to catch your thighs pressing together.

"You sure? You look a little warm."

"I'm fine," you hissed.

"You didn't answer my question."

"I know."

Dave sighed and let his hand fall from his computer mouse so he could turn and face you properly.

"Just tell me if he's treating you well, and I'll let it go."

You swallowed again and fixed your gaze on his desk when you said, "Yes. He's nice."

Dave nodded once. "Nicer than me?"

"I thought you said you'd let it go."

He smirked and laced his fingers together on his desk. "I'm finding it harder than I thought to let things go that pertain to you."

Butterflies bloomed in your stomach and you tried your hardest to control your breathing while those goddamn beautiful eyes of his kept staring at you, waiting for an answer.

"It's - I can't compare you to him," you said quietly. His shoulders stilled and you realized he was holding his breath. "It's not exactly apples to apples. He doesn't sneak into my apartment in the middle of the night and you didn't take me to Italian restaurants."

"Is that what you wanted? For me to take you out?" he asked, the vulnerability in his voice surprising you.

"Uh, well, I - I never really-"

A shrill ring pierced the air and the red light on the corner of his desk phone lit up. His hand immediately stretched out to tap a button and he cleared his throat.

"York."

A female voice greeted him on the other end, announcing that he was on speakerphone with a handful of others whose names she rattled off and you realized that there was, in fact, a meeting. Dave tapped another button, presumably the mute button, so he could point to your pen.

"I need you to take notes."

You nodded numbly and slowly picked up your pen, jotting down the date in the corner of a blank page while your mind was reeling. You did your best to write down key phrases and talking points, but your brain was scrambled from the past ten minutes.

"So," Dave said casually, leaning back in his chair. "He's nice, takes you to restaurants-"

Your eyes flickered to the phone, checking to make sure he was still muted.

"-what else?"

Your jaw tensed and you dropped your pen. There was a meeting, sure, but clearly not an important one. It was all a ruse, after all.

"You're the one who stopped coming to see me, remember?" you snapped. His eyebrows twitched but otherwise he didn't move. "Why are you doing this? Why are you asking me all these questions when I'm just trying to move on-"

"You're mad."

"Yes, I'm mad!" you exclaimed, then lowered your voice and rubbed the back of your neck with a sigh.

"And you're tense," he added lowly. You nodded and rolled your head from side to side. Dave's eyes fell to the soft skin of your neck and he licked his lips.

"Yes," you whispered.

He hummed and tented his fingers together, deep in thought.

"Seems like being nice and taking you for expensive dinners doesn't hold up well in bed," he taunted, making your eyes narrow and your nostrils flare.

"Stop it."

"Tell me I'm wrong," Dave pressed, leaning forward again and resting his forearms on the desktop. Your gaze fell to his hands; those thick, skilled fingers and that strong grip. Your legs began to tremble from how hard you were clenching them together. When you didn't answer, he grew impatient.

"Just tell me and I promise I'll let it go."

People walked by Dave's office. You could hear their muffled voices laughing while you sat there, feeling like you were about to combust.

He wouldn't stop. You could tell by the look in his eye, he wasn't ever going to let you leave without admitting it. So, you sighed and crossed your arms.

"We haven't had sex. Happy?"

His face instantly lit up but he tried to hide it with a condescending frown.

"Oh, baby, no wonder you're all worked up," he cooed.

"I'm worked up because you're being an asshole."

Dave shrugged. "Maybe. Either way, I can help you."

You barked out a laugh and rolled your eyes, ignoring the heat that flared between your legs. "How's that? Waking me up in the middle of the night so you can fuck me and disappear?"

Something not unlike regret flickered across his face.

"I didn't realize our arrangement wasn't working for you," he admitted, not a trace of teasing to be found in his voice.

"It wasn't working for you, if I recall," you shot back. You refused to let him confuse you. Did you wonder what it would be like to have a normal relationship with Dave? Sure. But you knew what you signed up for from the beginning, and that was fine. You never said a word otherwise and didn't plan on it.

He was the one who stopped showing up.

"Not true," he said with a shake of his head. "It was working too well. That was the problem." Your eyes widened as you listened to him speak. You had resigned yourself to never getting closure with Dave, but it turned out you were wrong. His fingers tapped nervously on the desk while a man's voice began to filter through the speaker on his phone.

"You were becoming a distraction. And a constant," he continued after a moment. "It was getting too risky for us both, so..."

"So you ghosted me."

Shame passed over his face when he nodded.

"Yeah."

You sniffled and silently stared down at your lap. It made sense. Whatever it was he did at night was dangerous and illegal, that much you knew. You had to imagine many bad people would try to get to Dave at any given time, try to kill him, so he couldn't risk lowering his guard, and he couldn't risk putting you in harm's way.

"You could have just told me that instead of making me feel like shit for weeks," you grumbled. Dave nodded.

"I know. I'm- I'm sorry."

Closure. An apology. Finally.

You sighed and dragged your gaze back up to his.

"Apology accepted."

More muffled voices walked past his office while you stared at one another. The words projection and budget and sales were being said in a monotone voice through his phone, but neither of you absorbed any of it. You were too lost in each other's eyes as the heat that always seemed to crackle between you grew even hotter.

"Are we good now?" you asked, breaking the spell.

"Good?" he repeated while tilting his head to the side.

You swallowed. "Yeah. Good. Can we work together without this being weird?"

Slowly, he nodded, but you could still feel that familiar spark. The one you usually felt in the stillness of your apartment late at night.

The tension was too thick. You had to look somewhere else, anywhere else, so your eyes found the clock behind him. Half past four.

"Something wrong?"

Your eyes shifted back to his face.

"No," you murmured. He shook his sleeve loose and glanced down at his watch.

"Don't worry, I'll get you to your date on time."

You had completely forgotten about your dinner plans with Michael. Something must have given that thought away because Dave smirked and shot you a knowing look.

"That's what you're thinking about, right?" he asked with a teasing edge to his voice. Then his gaze dropped down to your lap where your legs remained pressed tightly together. "Or are you thinking about something else?"

Your pulse fluttered nervously in your throat and you could have sworn Dave saw it, like a predator zeroing in on his prey.

"No," you lied, voice coming out thick and raspy, making your chest flush with embarrassment.

Dave hummed and looked away, pretending to read something in his email while he not so subtly dropped a hand to adjust himself through his black dress pants. You mouth watered at just the mere memory of his thick cock lying heavy across your tongue and you made a soft noise in the back of your throat. Dave focused on you again and grinned.

"You sure you're not thinking about anything else?"

You shook your head, trying to ignore the pull low in your belly when he looked at you like that. But when he leaned forward in his chair and you found your own body drifting forward like a fucking magnet, you knew you were done for.

"Can I tell you what I'm thinking about?" he asked. You gulped and nodded before you even had a chance to think it over. He smirked and ticked his jaw to the side, clocking the way your chest rose twice as fast as normal underneath your blouse.

"I'm thinking about how good that tight little cunt would feel right about now," he said lowly. You whimpered and glanced at the phone again, confirming the mute button was still lit up before looking back at Dave. He was still pinning you with the darkest stare, as if people weren't yapping through the speaker or walking past his office every few minutes.

"She's all wet for me, isn't she?" he goaded from across his desk. With a last ditch attempt at having some dignity, you shook your head, voice long gone and no longer trustworthy. Dave tsked and narrowed his eyes.

"You're lying."

You glanced at the clock again, cheeks flaring with heat under his tense gaze, then cleared your throat and forced yourself to speak.

"I'm not lying."

Even to you, your voice sounded broken and foreign.

"Prove it," he whispered.

Your breath stuttered and you felt a gush of arousal flood your panties, betraying the very words you just spoke. And even though you knew you shouldn't, even though you knew it would undo all the progress you thought you just made, you found yourself murmuring, "Here?"

"Here," he replied firmly, then patted the top of his desk and slowly leaned back in his chair while spreading his legs, waiting for you to make your decision.

You rose to your feet before you even had a chance to think, but that's how it always was with Dave. The things he said and did to you caused your mind to go blank and just give in.

A small chorus of laughter echoed through the phone but neither of you registered it when you rounded his desk and stood between his knees.

To his credit, he kept his eyes on your face, even after you perched on the edge of his desk and propped up a heeled foot on either arm rest of his chair, caging him in. You bunched up the fabric of your skirt, breath coming in excited, shallow pants, before pressing one hand flat onto the desk behind you, holding yourself up. Dave's expression didn't change. He kept staring deep into your eyes throughout it all, but when you hooked your underwear to the side and revealed your glistening cunt underneath your skirt, his eyes finally dropped to take a look.

"Christ," he groaned, tugging at the knot of his tie. You smirked when you finally saw the crack in his armor. His brows pinched together as if he were in pain as he continued to stare between your legs. After what felt like an eternity, he swallowed and met your gaze again.

"You lied."

"I know."

He stood up in a flash, his chair rolling somewhere behind him while your legs dropped to dangle over the edge of the wood. He made a move to grab your thighs but hesitated. Instead, he curled his hands into fists and planted them on either side of you.

"Tell me what you want," he said darkly, lips hovering dangerously close to yours. You shuddered and your eyelids slid closed, breathing in the sweet scent of coffee, mint, and ink. "Tell me what you want and I'll do it," he said more firmly.

That was one of the things that kept you coming back to Dave: when it came to moments like that one, when you felt like you were floating and lost under his spell, he always reminded you who really held the power.

"I want you to fuck me," you whispered. Instantly, your mouths sealed together and his hands grabbed your thighs, pulling them even further apart so he could wedge his hips between them. With a quickness that shocked you, he reached under your skirt and tugged your underwear down your legs with one hand, letting them drop unceremoniously to the floor before his hands were back on you again.

Your tongue slid past his parted lips to find its mate while your hand dropped to his belt. Shaky fingers tugged hastily at the leather while some woman droned on through the phone next to you.

You swallowed down his groan when you made quick work of opening his belt and pants, letting the fabric hang loose so you could reach for what you really wanted. At the same time you wrapped your fist around his smooth, aching cock, his fingers found your slit. He slipped two fingers past your lips and you whimpered into his mouth when you felt your arousal begin to leak out onto his desk.

"Fuck," he groaned before swiping his fingers through your pussy once more. "Fuck, you're so wet. You need me bad, huh?"

"Yeah," you whined, biting at his lower lip once before your mouth drifted down to his jaw. You scooted closer to the edge of his desk and pulled him in, hand still stroking his erection. Dropping your chin to your chest, you looked down between your bodies. He was leaking and rock hard and so fucking close to where you needed him.

With your free hand, you curled your fingers around the back of his neck and pulled his mouth against your throat, moaning when his lips made contact with your pulse point.

"Can't be loud," he panted. The tip of his cock bumped against your pussy and you bit back another moan.

"Y-yeah, okay," you stammered. "Just - please, Dave. Please-"

"I know, I know," he said, and each of you held your breath when he dropped his hips forward to notch at your entrance.

You tried to look him in the eye when he pressed inside, but the feeling of relief was so exquisite that it had you falling forward to bury your face into his neck.

He cursed softly under his breath once he was fully sheathed inside you, but all you could do was press your mouth firmly against his throat, hoping to muffle any noises that slipped past your lips once he began to move.

"Shit," he sighed when he drew himself halfway out just to thrust deep inside your cunt once again. Your eyebrows knit together as you concentrated on not making any noise, but it was a next to impossible task. The way he stretched you and filled you up just right every single time had you completely forgetting where you were.

His big hands found a home on your waist, holding you steady when he began to snap his hips faster. Your ankles hooked around the backs of his legs and your fingers clawed helplessly at his back while he fucked you, wishing you could cry out his name and beg for more.

"This is what you wanted, huh? This what you needed?"

He murmured into your ear as he pounded into you, each knock of his hips taking your breath away. All you could do was nod helplessly and take it.

"Not him. Me," he clarified. When you heard the jealousy in his voice, you smiled into his skin.

"Yes," you whispered.

"Fucking - say it," he grunted.

"Just you, Dave," you gasped. The tip of his cock kissed your cervix and you whimpered, praying it wasn't too loud. His hand shot up to grab your jaw, a thumb and forefinger pushing into each one of your cheeks. Startled, you opened your eyes.

"You're gonna go on your little dinner date," he growled, "and you're gonna have my cum leaking out of you. Every fucking time you move, you're gonna think of me. Right?"

"Yes," you hissed, then yanked your chin out of his grip so you could bend forward and whisper in his ear, "but I was going to be thinking about you either way."

That pleased him. He chuckled and held your hips steady before pulling out of you roughly. You whined and Dave pressed a finger against your lips.

"Turn around."

With a mischievous grin, you slid down from his desk and did as you were told, leaning your forearms on his desk and sticking out your ass. But right when he was ready to enter you again, you both heard his name through the phone.

He paused and reached forward to unmute and your heart sunk.

"Yeah, Kathy?"

You closed your eyes and let your forehead fall to your hands, already anticipating losing the build up of your orgasm, but much to your surprise, you felt the tip of his cock nestle between your folds. Your head snapped up right when he buried himself fully inside you, eyes bugging out of your head and your jaw hung open in a silent scream.

The phone wasn't muted. Kathy was yammering on about quarterly something or others, wanting to get Dave's take on things, while he was already slowly fucking you once again.

"Yeah, so, I think the projections for next month look very positive," Dave was saying while shallowing thrusting in and out of you. Your teeth sunk into the back of your hand and tears burned your eyes, but you remained perfectly quiet. "There's a few big clients we're ready to lock down any day now, and-"

Dave coughed when your cunt clenched around him, stilling his hips and causing him to dig his fingers into your waist.

"Excuse me," he said, voice sounding an octave higher than usual. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head when he began to fuck into you faster.

"Next quarter looks promising. Fourth quarter always dips below expectations-"

Dave grunted softly when your back arched and your hand reached behind you to grab his wrist. You began to rock your hips, matching his pace and pulsing around him with your lip trapped between your teeth. You were close.

"-we always make up for it the following year," he continued while reaching around, pressing the pad of his finger against your clit.

You gasped, completely forgetting about the phone. Half a second later, you folded your palm across your mouth. The timing was perfect, too, because Dave gave you a sharp smack across the ass as punishment while clearing his throat to cover up the noise.

A man's voice joined in through the phone, but you couldn't process a single word he said. Dave was fucking into you steadily now with a firm finger still drawing tight circles over your clit. Your hips were grinding into the edge of his desk, almost sure to leave bruises the following day, but you didn't care one bit. The pleasure that was mounting between your legs was overpowering every other sensation, and when it finally snapped, throwing you over the edge with a silent scream into your palm, nothing else mattered. Nothing except for Dave.

"Yes, Charles, I agree," he said through clenched teeth. Your climax was still rolling through you, causing your pussy to gush and squeeze around his cock, trying to pull him over the edge and give you what you wanted. What he promised.

Mercifully, Charles took the lead and began to give his own insight. Dave fell forward, chest hovering just over your back, and he slapped the mute button. The little button glowed red and he let out a low groan right next to your ear before he shuddered and then stilled. A moment later, you felt his release flooding your pussy, filling you up more and more with each soft moan that tumbled from his lips until he sighed and dropped his forehead to rest on the back of your shoulder.

"You're gonna get me fired," he murmured into your back. You laughed dryly with your eyes closed.

"Something tells me you'd be just fine."

Dave chuckled and slowly pushed himself up with a groan. One hand held your hip steady so he could pull out, grunting when he abandoned the warmth of your body. Almost instantly, you felt his seed trickle out of you, smearing between your thighs when you pressed them together.

You stood with a wince, legs and hips already aching, and went to fix your skirt when much to your surprise, Dave's hands got there first. He got down on his knees to take you gently by the ankles, guiding each leg through the material of your panties before sliding them back into place. Then his eyes locked with yours when he straightened your skirt, hands lingering on the bare skin of your calves for just a moment. You swallowed tightly, fascinated by the sight of him on his knees for you with such an endearing look across his face.

Behind you, voices in the phone were bidding everyone farewell, snapping Dave out of his trance. He stood and tapped the mute button, mimicked a polite goodbye, then hung up. His eyes drifted to you once again, still frozen in place up against his desk.

"Hope you aren't too late for your dinner."

You glanced at the clock and cursed when you saw it was already a few minutes past five.

"He's probably waiting out there for me," you told him. Dave nodded curtly and you thought that was your cue to leave, so you took one step forward. When his hand shot out to grab your arm, you swiveled back around.

Dave's lips met yours with the sweetest kiss you'd ever shared with him. There was no urgency or messiness or fighting for dominance. It was soft and tender and chaste, making your heart rattle inside your chest. But just as quickly as it started, it was over. He dropped your arm and slumped down tiredly in his chair, effectively dismissing you.

A big part of you wanted to ask if he was going to start coming by your apartment again, but you bit your tongue. What you just shared was probably just one last fuck for him; break up sex, if you were willing to call it a break up, and the last thing you wanted to do was embarrass yourself. So you ran your fingers through your hair and gathered your things before disappearing out into the office, softly shutting the door behind you, the whole time feeling Dave's gaze watching your every move.

Surprisingly, Michael was not at your desk. You didn't think anything of it, just grateful you had a few extra minutes to yourself to breathe and shift gears before having to see him. As you were packing up your things, you saw a pink post-it note stuck to your coffee mug: meet you in the parking ramp.

Okay, so he had been there at some point. It was probably a good thing Dave actually had a conference call at four. It kept you from feeling too paranoid as you switched off your light and pulled on your coat. You hurried to the elevator all alone, the floor almost entirely empty, which was no surprise for a Friday. Right before you stepped onto the elevator, you glanced back once towards Dave's closed door. His light was still on, the bright yellow glow peered out from the crack under his door.

All the way down to the parking garage, you were burdened by the words Dave moaned in your ear and the empty feeling he left inside your leaking pussy. Something about him was so magnetic, it was difficult to think about anything else. It was why you were so distracted walking towards your car in the dark parking garage and didn't hear the soft footsteps of a man sneaking up behind you, hitting you so hard over the head with something heavy and narrow that you passed out immediately.

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[missyorkswhore]

Dear Santa Claus...

[taeslarityy]

dirty laundry ༄ dave york one shot (18+)

-> pairing: dark dave york x female reader

-> word count: 2.8k

-> summary: it’s a hot august week at the york’s lake house, which also happens to be the week you and your husband got married one year ago. your father in law — dave york — finds you changing in the laundry room and decides to give you a celebration of his own.

-> warnings/tags: father-in-law dave york, infidelity, dubcon, NON-CON, age gap (reader is 21, dave is nearing 50), SMUT 18+, heavy degradation(whore, slut, bitch), humiliation, dumbification, unprotected piv, sir kink, rough face-fucking, forced creampie, talk of pregnancy, reader is under the impression that she endures forced impregnation, hair pulling, slapping, spanking, semi naive reader, dave is not a cutesy nice man in this.. he honestly has no concern for readers feelings or pleasure. so please, if themes like dubious consent + non-con + blatant cheating are not ur forte, protect ur peace and scroll away!!

-> a/n: okay okay hiiiii. when i decided to participate in @hellishjoel ‘s #hotdilfsummerchallenge, i had a few ideas in mind. one happened to be this! but i felt more comfortable writing for joel and was confident in what i had planned. basically, this is opposite of that. no fluff or happy ending.. or even happy anything. so i wanted to share! thanks again kylee for letting me participate <3 and thank you to my beloved dearest @sweetpascal for aiding me yet again, i love u 🤍

let me know your thoughts!

DARK CONTENT BELOW: READ AT YOUR OWN RISK. I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR THE CONTENT YOU CONSUME.

A huge part of growth, means acknowledging your mistakes.

When you failed your first semester of college, you knew it was from lack of trying and partying six days a week. So, you studied more and partied four days a week instead. When you slammed your brand new Mercedes into a flag pole, you knew it was from scrolling on Instagram which caused you to push accelerate rather than stop. So, you never went on your phone while driving again.

When you fell in love your sophomore year and decided to get married at twenty, you knew it was because you needed the well-off grad school bachelor, Daniel York. So, inadvertently, you settled. Now, a year later, you're sobbing in his family’s lake house bathroom because he somehow forgot that tonight was the eve of your wedding anniversary.

You feel like a complete and utter idiot. And for once in your life, you just might be. Staring at your reflection, you examine your appearance. You look effortlessly amazing today, after spending the day out on the boat. Hair, body and face all faintly sun-kissed. Your skin freshly shaved, legs and arms lathered in your favorite oil.

This was your final attempt to see if Daniel would stare at you with the same look of admiration he had so long ago. Your first attempt to ask him about starting your own family. Tonight was the night, and you were determined.

Briefly peeking out of the guest bathroom and down the hall, you decide you can rush into the laundry room only a few doors down. Everyone should seemly be downstairs, finishing up a game of Monopoly. You had the pleasure of winning two games in a row, pissing of the frightfully competitive York family. That’s when you decided to call it a night and head up to get ready for bed — bidding everyone a goodbye as you kissed your husband atop his head.

Wrapping your robe securely around your waist, you make your way towards the closed door and enter just as the dryer sings the most obnoxious 45 second tune that confirms the load is finished. Rich people shit, you mutter to yourself. Grabbing your bikini and sundress to hang up first, then laying out a sheer white silk sleeping dress with baby blue lace trim.

Looking back at the closed door, you conclude you should be fine to just throw it on before laying yourself out on your shared bed. Ready for your husband to see you so open and willing to be used by him. As your robe falls to your feet, a slight creek fills the silent space.

Whipping your head back and grabbing the nearest towel to cover yourself, you're met with an alluring glare from your husbands own dad. Your father-in-law, Dave York.

"Dave wha- what are you doing?" You question with a panic laced tone. Completely thrown off by the way he's leaning against the now locked door, hands in his wrinkle-free perfectly fitted black work slacks. His lack of response is louder than the faint trickle from the utility sink your bare-ass is pressed against.

Dave saunters over to you, his pristinely polished shoes clinking heavily with every step despite the minimal weight he's using. It's a commanding presence, shows how he doesn't have to storm over to establish authority. His handsome body towers over you and the faint hairs on your spine rapidly rise at the feeling of his warmth nearing your own naked body. Aside from the small washcloth that covers your crotch and arm across your heavy tits.

His veiny calloused wedding ring-wearing hand reaches next to you, finding the lace on your nightgown satisfyingly soft.

"Look at this, angel. Did you plan on wearing it for my inconsiderate son?" He remarks, looking into your wide eyes as his fingers continue to twist and feel at a piece of clothing that is filling you with an overbearing amount of embarrassment.

"I d- you weren't supposed to see that." The nervous confession brings a crooked grin to Dave's face.

"It's real pretty, just like you. Sexy even.... but I wouldn't waste my time putting something like this on for Daniel." Shaking his head at your frazzled state and utilizing that dismissive tone he does so well.

"W-why?"

Pinching the bridge of his nose in annoyance at your innocent unknowing voice, Dave reaches a hand to slowly move your arm that's covering your plush chest. "Because, he left 10 minutes ago. Waved bye to me as I pulled into the driveway."

Now you're really fucking confused. Your husband never goes off without texting you to let you know, and why would he leave you alone at his parents home? Especially on the night prior to your anniversary.

"I don't understand. Did he tell you where he was going?" You probe at him, not processing the way his rough fingertips are skimming over your navel, up across your chest. Suddenly, you yelp as he pinches your pebbled nipple and grips under your adjacent perky breast. Your hand quickly grabs at his wrist, but he slaps it away — holding it at your waist.

"You really have nothing going on in that head of yours, huh? Just floating around being the perfect little wife for my son, is that right? Too stupid and blind to see that your husband cheats on you every living moment and only married you because you're nothing more than a sweet voice who’s gentle on the eyes." His painful out-of-pocket words paired with the twisting of your nipples has heavy tears brimming at your lashes. "Kind of him to make sure you're gentle on his old mans eyes too.... we always did share a type."

"Fuck you," you spit at him. You've never dared be rude to Dave, or anyone for that matter. But his condescending temper, sudden violations to your privacy paired with the already upsetting feelings you've been enduring today was a breaking point. As you rip your hand from his grasp prepared to rush out of the room, he grabs your throat in a vice grip. Landing a brutal smack on your cheek that causes your head to turn from the impact, just for him to use that same hand to yank your hair back to a straight position. Body now pressed against your own — you feel the washcloth protecting your femininity drop at your bare feet in terror.

"Hmm. Never heard you cuss before, sweetheart. Thought I taught my son to train his wife better than that."

A heavy tear streams down your now red swollen cheek, as you take in the hurtful message your father in law is clarifying. You're nothing but a piece of fuck meat, a trophy wife. But clearly not honored enough for your husband to use you. Humiliatingly, the way Dave's clothed body is up against your own, has your exposed cunt throbbing and leaking down your legs for him. You were good enough for Dave York, and that was an honor within itself.

"'M sorry," you murmur at the feel of his covered thigh spreading your leg and nudging into your soaked pussy.

Dave chuckles at your nearly cock drunk state, "haven't even touched you and your leaking on my dress pants. No wonder he keeps you around, you're just a perfect little slut willing to please."

"Y- yeaah," you sigh lightly humping his thigh, even though Dave didn't even ask a question. Something within you just wanted him to understand your body was his to use, despite both your sacred dedications to other partners. People so close to you. His son, your husband. Your mother-in-law, his wife.

He swiftly moves his thigh from between your legs, pinching your cheeks so they're puckered willing you to look at him with those glossed over doe-eyes he fucking leaks over. "Use that head and address me properly."

Your head swarms for a second, worried of his reaction to an incorrect title. Testing the waters, you whine, "yes, sir." The words muffled by the tight hold he has on your face.

With a sinister grin on his face, Dave pushes you down on the solid tile — hand still threaded through your hair to ensure your head movement is in his control.

"Look at that, your brain does work. Let's see about that mouth."

Yanking the zipper down, he pulls his semi-hard cock out and slaps it on your cheek, precum smearing slightly. As you eye his cock, you come to the realization that he's slightly bigger than his son at half mast, and you're gonna have to calm yourself to handle a monster like that.

"Are you gonna show me how good you take a cock down your throat? With those dick-sucking porn worthy lips?" Dave peers down at you. He has started to jerk himself to full length, his thumbs barely touching around his width.

"Yes, sir. I am."

The way your eyelids flutter up at him, so docile and unaware of just how vicious Dave intends to be on your needy body. It unlocks that fundamental primal male urge that he normally suppresses during sex.

"Open your mouth, bitch." As your tongue lolls out of your mouth obediently, a dribble of spit going down your chin to your neck to your tits gleams in the soft light. Dave grins as he stuffs two fingers in your mouth, touching at your sensitive uvula. You instantly attempt suppressing your rare gag reflex, body unprepared for his actions. "Nice job, knew you were meant to have your mouth filled."

Dave rips his fingers from you and smears the thick string of saliva across your face — slapping you across the face, rather gentle than before. As he grabs his cock and lines it up with your mouth, you inhale deeply. Seemly more aware of how Dave likes to be. Callous, straight-forward and dominant.

Before you can suck him into your mouth, Dave spits right on his cock — some of it landing on your moisturized lips — just to slam himself down your throat. Your eyes spring open looking up at him, polished hands gripping at his slack-covered thighs. You feel your left over slick on his right pant leg. The taste of his long day is heavy on your tongue as his balls nuzzle at your chin. You're overwhelmed with his scent. The hair at the base of his cock tickles your nose, stud piercing almost getting caught.

"Riiiight there, that's fucking it. What a real fucking whore."

Dave lets his head fall backwards, eyes on the ceiling as he feels you sputter around him, your spit dripping heavily down his balls and onto the tile between his legs. He's unsure on how long he looks upwards, until he feels the digging of your fingertips into him. When he looks down, your eyes are bulging — about to roll into the back of your skull. So he pulls off of you.

Your belligerent cough is almost too loud for comfort, so Dave jerks his cock and plops his full balls into your mouth. And like the eager girl you are, you suck them into your mouth. Licking at the seam between them, letting them bounce off of your tongue. You lick downwards, tonguing at his delicate perineum. That small but dirty act makes him groan loudly. Loud enough for someone on the second floor to hear.

Realizing he's getting too comfortable, he goes back to filling your mouth. Alternating between shallow fucking of the throat and just letting it bulge inside. His big hands wrapping around your neck to jerk himself through the thin hump of protruding skin.

When he hears the shrewd screech of his name from the mouth of his wife downstairs, he pulls out swiftly and yanks you up, hoisting your leg onto the counter. Prodding his cock head at your now unbelievably soaked entrance.

Your mind is hazy and disorientated concerning what's about to happen. You feel like you've barely had any time to process the fact that your father in law is treating you like a common street whore. So, when he pushes into you, a wailing shriek escapes you.

Dave slaps his heavy hand around your mouth from behind, pushing in balls deep but not before releasing a moan of his own.

"Better shut that mouth before I stuff something in there... good god. How is that cunt so damn tight? You're snug around me, guess you're not a slut after all. Tight pussy but loose throat, just how I like it."

Dave proceeds with his relentless thrusts into your aching cunt. You don't remember the last time you were filled so thoroughly. It makes you forget how fucked up this situation truthfully is.

As Dave's cock is slamming into your cervix over and over, you feel your lower stomach tightening. He feels it too. Dave has been holding in his orgasm since you first fell to your knees and gave him those fuck toy eyes. So before you can cum all over him, he grabs you by the neck from the front and puts your ear right by his mouth so he can relay his special message.

"My son told me you've been begging him for a baby... how sweet. You just wanna be a mama, huh? Or maybe, you think having one will fix your relationship. Just reminds me how stupid you are. If a kid could save a marriage, my wife and I would've been happy ever since she pushed that little shit out. But, I'm gonna make it even better for you, sweetheart...."

Dave pushes to the hilt as you cum around him, whimpering behind his hand. Eager to hear his words, simultaneously terrified.

"Gonna cum inside and get you pregnant myself."

You scream into his hand, trying to push him away from you, trying to get yourself away from his spearing cock. All your effort does is push him in deeper, your body going lax at how stuffed you are.

"Don't fight me, angel. Just take it..." You feel his warm cum spilling into you, your body quivering. "Good... so good. I already feel your body sucking up my cum.. eager for it. Eager to be round with your father in law's baby. What will it call me? Grand-dad?" He snickers into your ear as he releases your body. You just lay there, half your limp limbs hanging off the counter.

Dave watches his thick white liquid drip out of you, and down your inner thighs. He pats your ass and tucks himself back into his slacks.

"Don't worry too much. Daniel looks just like me, he'll never find out his kid is actually his half-sibling. That is unless you tell him. You want him to find out you were on your knees being a slut for his, daddy?" Dave questions you. You don't speak a word. Just staring at the piped detailing on the cupboard that holds all the scented detergents.

"Just go, please. So I can clean myself up." Those few begging words take the reminanets of your little energy.

Dave grabs your now wrinkly nightgown and robe, pulling you off the counter so you're forced to stand in front of him. Body spent, his finger prints have left slight indents on various parts of you that you're positive will bruise in the days to come. You realize now, there's no way your husband can see you uncovered for weeks.

"You're gonna put this slutty outfit on and walk your ass into his room, with my cum dripping down your legs. He's been waiting for you, sweetheart."

Your jaw drops at his demand. Disgusted yet your cunt clenches at the filth of it all.

"I thought you said he left?"

Dave just smiles at you like you're a mindless child. You almost fall to the floor in despair at the discovery of what a lying sick bastard Dave has revealed himself to be. You don't know what to do. You've caught yourself up in this twisted game and as of now, there's no way out.

So, you throw the soft lace over your head and run your fingers through your hair attempting to fix your appearance. As you unlock the door, Dave places a gentle hand on your waist and kisses the top of your head. You hear him inhale your scent before he pushes you out of the door and watches you meander to his son's room, a slight limp in your legs.

You look at him, distain on your face as you open the door to find your husband scrolling on his phone. With an arrogant look spread across his face — "Where have you been?"

Dave hears the click of the door lock setting in place. As he walks towards the stairwell, he can't help but laugh at the memory of his vasectomy he received many years ago.

thank you truly for reading! let me know your thoughts below or in asks!! reblogs are greatly appreciated <3

[baronessvonglitter]

I read so many fics over the holidays and found great new (well, new to me) authors. Starting next month I'll be doing monthly fic recs instead because whoa.. this is a lot ❤️

Please take time to read these stories, and others by these creative and beautiful people 💫 And mind the tags, as the majority of these blogs are 18+ and come with their own warnings.

dividers by @plum98 👑

Joel Miller

Borrowed Time by @aurorawritestoescape ~ Joel x f!reader

Darkest Desires by @myownwholewildworld ~ Boston QZ!Joel x f!reader.

Fade Into You by @probablyreadinsmut ~ Joel x Afab! Reader

Girl Dinner by @slimybeth69 ~ kidnapped!Joel x isolated&unhinged&potentially crazy!reader

A good grade by @itwasntimethatdidit40 ~ Perv Art Professor!Joel x afab!reader

Guilty Pleasure by @for-a-longlongtime ~ dbf!Joel x reader

A Hell of a Morning by @aurorawritestoescape ~ Stepdad!Joel x f!reader

It feels like hope by @itwasntimethatdidit40 ~ Hot Priest!Joel x f!reader

Lock the Gate by @almostfoxglove ~ Joel x f!reader

The Older One by @frannyzooey ~ Joel x f!reader

Overloaded by @katiexpunk ~ Joel and Tommy Miller X fem!Reader

Pregame Play by @joelmillerisapunk ~ Dbf!Joel x reader

Seeing Pink by @gutsby ~ Joel x Reader

Texas Red by @studioghibelli ~ Joel x reader

this one thing you did by @joelscruff ~ Joel x f!reader

Three Strikes by @maiamore ~ Joel x f!reader

Unwrapped by @sunshinehaze1 ~ Joel x f!reader (f. Marcus Acacius & Lucilla Aurelius)

The Warden by @arcanefox207 ~ GameWarden!Joel x F!Reader

you got me thinkin' nonsense by @joelmillerisapunk ~ Dbf!Joel x F!reader

Dave York

In Vino Veritas by @yxtkiwiyxt ~ dave x f!reader

The Lonely Space Between Floors by @morallyinept ~ Dave x F!Reader

One Day at a Time by @drewharrisonwriter ~ Dave x Female Reader

A Quiet Neighborhood by @itwasntimethatdidit40 ~ Dave x f!reader

The Road Not Taken by @guiltyasdave ~ Dave x f!reader

Under False Pretenses by @joelalorian ~ stepdad!dave x f!reader

Javier Pena

How could you love somebody like me? by @itwasntimethatdidit40 ~ f!reader x Javier

Lost and Found by @oliveksmoked ~ Javier x f!reader

A New Year's Distraction by @lotusbxtch ~ Javier + f!Reader

Pump by @morallyinept ~ Javier x GN!Reader

Marcus Pike

Merry Christmas, baby by @itwasntimethatdidit40 ~ Marcus P x f!reader

Sign Here, Please by @inept-the-magnificent ~ Marcus P X f!Reader

Dieter Bravo

A Better Man by @drewharrisonwriter ~ Dieter x reader

Din Djarin

Best Kept Secret by @lincolndjarin ~ bodyguard!din x princess!reader

Pero Tovar

Baron Tovar Takes a Wife by @604to647 ~ Bridgerton AU Regency!Pero x fem!reader

Confession by @sawymredfox ~ Pero x fem able-bodied reader

Marcus Acacius

Searching for the Stars Pt. 2 by @the-mandawhor1an ~ Marcus A x f!Reader

Frankie Morales

Extra cream and sugar by @itwasntimethatdidit40 ~ Frankie x f!reader

Multi/Other

Blackmail by @milla-frenchy ~ Javier Pena x fem reader x Joel Miller

Cosmic Love by @kedsandtubesocks ~ Marcus Acacius x F!Reader x Marcus Pike

Datura by @suzdin ~ Joel Miller x f!reader x Dave York

Don't say a word if this word is not "please" by @itwasntimethatdidit40 ~ General!Marcus Acacius X slave trader!Javier Peña

Fuckboy by @sizzlingcloudmentality ~ unnamed ppu character x f!reader

Paris, Texas by @almostempty ~ Joel Miller x Javier Pena x f!reader

[guiltyasdave]

let them feel

pairing: Dave York x f!reader with a side of whichever Pedro boys you want x f!reader

word count: ~2k

warnings/tags: explicit smut (-> 18+ only!), able-bodied reader, reader has hair that can be grabbed, no use of y/n, dom!dave, exhibitionism, lowkey group sex tbh, rough oral sex (m receiving), fingering, degradation kink, praise kink

a/n: sooo... yesterday the lovely em @luxurychristmaspudding posted this poll with the compelling question in a room full of p boys, who is getting you off (in front of everyone else 👀)?, which led to the lovely daphne @sizzlingcloudmentality posting let them see (go read that asap!), which then led to me asking "hey do you mind if i continue this?" and then writing 2k words in a state that i can only describe as possessed. enjoy <3

dividers by @saradika-graphics <3

notifications blog -> @guiltyasdavenotifs & full masterlist -> here

“Such a good little slut for me, baby,” he croons and kisses your cheek. “Now get down and clean up.” 

You’re still floating from your orgasm, all soft limbs and hazy thoughts, but when Dave speaks, you obey. Always.

The air is heavy with the scent of sex, the room filled with the sound of the others catching their breaths. You feel their eyes on you, burning on your skin. It’s heady, being bare in front of them, your whole body free for them to drink you in. The vulnerability of it is intoxicating you, humiliation swirling with excitement. They’re here to see you. You made them like this. 

Dave tuts from behind you, teeth nipping at the lobe of your ear. “I said now.” 

You shudder at the sharp bite, your ass grinding against him once more. Flames are already licking at your core again, still demanding more.

A low groan sounds when you turn around, position yourself on all fours in front of Dave. You’re on full display for them, and at the sound, you arch your back a little more, spread your thighs a little wider. 

You feel his cum dribbling out of you, for all of them to see. See where he claimed you, made you his. Where he shared a small piece of you with them, and you let him. 

Dave’s cock hangs heavy in front of you, coated in the combination of you. The scent engulfs you, musky and filthy. Your mouth waters. 

Looking up, your eyes meet his. They’re burning with pride and possessiveness, as one hand cups your cheek, his thumb tracing gently over your skin. 

“Not done yet, are you? You wanna show them more, show them how good of a girl you are for me?” 

“Yes,” you breathe, locked into his gaze. You’d agree to anything he asks of you. 

His lips curl into a smirk at your devotion. His thumb presses down on your bottom lip and slips into your eager mouth easily. You start sucking instinctually. His eyes darken, the smirk growing wider.

“Tell them,” he demands, pulling his thumb back and turning your head until you’re facing over your shoulder, towards them. “Go on.”

Your cheeks burn when you look at them, catch their eyes where they’re locked on you. Some on your face, some still on the mess between your spread legs. 

“I want to show you that I’m a good girl,” you whisper, eyelids fluttering with embarrassment. 

It earns you a few appreciative chuckles, a “go ahead, sugar,” that has you feeling shy. You turn back to Dave, silently pleading for his praise. 

“So good,” he mouths at you as his fingers sink into your hair, directing your mouth to where he wants you. 

You start with small kisses, pressed against his thighs, slowly moving closer. Inhaling his scent, the heady intensity of it when you’re so close to him. 

You reach the underside of his cock, alternating between kisses and little kitten licks. His skin is sticky against your lips and tongue. The taste of his cum, mixed with the tang of your own arousal, floods your senses. A growl rumbles in his chest, his fingers digging into your scalp. But he doesn’t direct you, just holds onto you, soothing you by making sure you feel him close. 

Whimpering at the taste, your tongue glides over his velvety skin. Taking your time, savoring each moment, every inch of him. 

A new wave of arousal floods your pussy when you lower your head deeper, your tongue caressing his balls, coated with his cum just like you intended. Your ass rises higher with the shift in your position, and you hear Dave chuckle above you. 

“You want to take a closer look? She doesn’t mind, do you, baby?” His fingers glide towards your neck, squeezing for just a moment. “You don’t mind showing them your slutty little hole, all wet just from licking my balls?” 

You hum against his skin, the vibration causing him to suck air in through his teeth. 

“Good girl.” A teasing slap lands against your ass, and you feel your pussy clench around nothing, more of his cum dripping out of you. “Spread your legs then, let them see. Wider.”

You hear the shuffle of footsteps, feel their eyes on you, so close to where arousal is spreading through you like wildfire. You could swear that you can feel someone’s breath ghost against your folds, the sensation enough to leave you trembling.

Dazed, you keep lapping at Dave’s skin. His balls are heavy on your tongue, cleaned of his cum and covered in your spit instead. It’s as far as you can go, to claim him like he claims you, to make him yours.

His grip in your hair tightens, pressing you into him, leaving you no choice but to lick and suck where you can reach. Your own saliva is soaking your face, his scent invading your nose, his taste filling your mouth, all your senses overwhelmed by him him him. 

The flames keep licking at you, building up ready to consume you, and this is about him, you know it is, but you need more so badly. He lets up, pulling your head back slightly, grinning down at you. You can feel the others, their presence right behind you, close enough to touch. Yet, all you can see is Dave. 

“Look at you,” he murmurs, his voice dark. He runs a finger over your spit-slicked cheek, collecting the evidence of how completely and utterly he’s ruined you. “Such a messy slut, aren’t you?” 

You nod, teeth digging into your lip to keep your arousal at bay, to keep from begging him to touch you. 

“Tell them. Tell them what you are.” His hand connects with your cheek in a slap, not strong enough to hurt, but enough to send a moan tumbling from your lips that results in several chuckles from around you. 

“Tell us, gorgeous,” one of them rasps, stoking the flames inside of you further. 

“I’m—” you begin, shyly turning to face them. They’re towering over you, surrounding you, watching you intently, devouring you with their eyes. A deer in the headlights. You suppress a shudder, another wave of arousal crashing through you. “I’m a messy slut.” 

Their cocks are hardening again, a few of them already touching themselves. Because of you. 

“Yeah, you are,” Dave coos. Your head flies back to him at the sound of his voice, you can’t help it. It’s like you're tethered to him, like he’s the center of your universe. He’s taking you in, so calm, so patient, his lips pursed like he’s debating what to do with you. 

His cock, fully hard again and leaking, is inches from your face. You want to taste him, licking your lips at the sight, saliva flooding your mouth. He can tell. He always can. 

“Go ahead, put that whore mouth of yours to use.” 

It’s all the permission, all the encouragement you need. You move forward, let your lips part around the swollen head, reveling in the fresh taste of his cum on your tastebuds. Your tongue traces the veins under his velvety skin, curls around the heavy weight of him before sucking him deeper into your mouth, sinking down on him. 

It makes it harder for you, giving yourself no time to adjust, but it’s the way he likes it. He wants you slowly licking his balls, face pressed into his skin, debasing yourself, taking your time. But once you reach his cock, his patience runs thin. 

Expecting you to give him what he wants. Taking it if you don’t. 

“How’d you train her so well?” one of them asks. The longing unmistakable in his voice. 

Dave chuckles, thrusting into your mouth particularly hard. He hits the back of your throat, a gargled sound escaping you. Holding himself there for a few seconds, he talks over you, like you’re not even there. 

“It’s easy when they’re desperate for it, you just need to find the right girl.” He looks down, smiling at you in mock pity. “She was just asking for it. Weren’t you, baby?” 

He doesn’t demand an answer this time, content with the choked hum that you manage to get out. 

His cock sinks into your throat again and again, stretching your lips, making it hard to breathe, hard to think. Saliva is dribbling down your chin, tears flowing from your eyes. But this is what you wanted, what you needed, to let him use you, to show off how well you take him.

Your hips are humping the air in rhythm with his thrusts, desperate for friction, for something. 

“Look at you.” His face is blurry through your tears, but his smile is evident in his voice. “My little slut needs to come again, huh? Insatiable, aren’t you?” 

You manage a nod, gagging around him when the movement has him nudging against your throat again. 

“Do you want them to touch you?” 

It’s a genuine question, one that he’d let you say no to, but saying no is the last thing on your mind. You pull off of him with a gasp, greedily sucking air into your lungs. 

“Please, yes! Please, please, please.” 

He fills your mouth again instantly, holding your head still as he pounds into you with a new intensity. 

“You heard her. Make my girl come.” 

There’s a brief moment of silence, the tension thick around you, mounting high. Then, you’re overwhelmed with sensations. Their hands are all over you, so big, calloused fingers on your soft skin. 

Nails scratch down your back, fingers roughly pinch both your nipples, already pebbled hard with your overwhelming need. It’s just on the right side of pain, racing through your body and mind, transforming into pleasure almost instantly. 

Fingers swirl through the sticky mess between your thighs, teasing at your entrance. You buck your hips, trying to get closer while Dave still holds your head, not letting you move back an inch. 

“Impatient,” someone chuckles behind you, and the fingers withdraw. 

You whine around Dave’s cock, already able to taste your orgasm on your tongue, just a little bit more—

There’s a featherlight touch against your clit, barely there, but it’s like your body is set on fire. Mercifully, the fingers are back at your hole, or maybe they’re someone else’s, you can’t be sure, and you don’t care. 

Finally, they sink into you, thick just like Dave’s, squelching with the overflowing wetness, and your eyes roll back into your head. They stretch your fluttering walls, fucking you slowly, deliberately, as you clench around them. Until they find the perfect spot, hitting it just right, over and over. 

The touch on your clit intensifies, rubbing tight circles, catapulting you higher still, your whole body at a boiling point. 

Then, you shatter. Dave’s cock in your mouth does nothing to muffle your scream, your fingers clawing at his thighs, holding on tight as you’re soaring. They don’t let up, pushing and pulling at you, while your orgasm keeps ripping through your body. 

You’re drenched, wetness covering the entirety of your inner thighs, dripping from you when their fingers finally disappear from your cunt. 

“Good girl,” Dave groans above you, thrusting into your throat one last time, before his seed spills into your waiting mouth. “My perfect fucking girl, you did so good.” 

You’re blissfully hazy as he slowly lowers you down onto the sheets, stroking your head, your face. The others’ hands are still on you, but their demanding touch is gone, replaced with sugary sweet softness, more gentle than you had thought possible. 

You close your eyes, content to let yourself sink into waiting arms.

thank you for reading! comments and reblogs are love <3

[drewharrisonwriter]

Overtime

Status: Complete.

Pairings: Boss Dave York x Secretary Female Reader

Word Count: 1008 words

Summary: Preparation for an investor presentation kept you and your boss Dave York working overtime.

Author's Notes: Hey, it's been a while and I know I have a shit ton of WIPs lol but I hope you all enjoy this new Dave York piece. I am open to requests and prompts, too.

Warnings: Minors DNI. 18+ only. This fic contains explicit sexual content, themes of infidelity, and unhealthy relationship dynamics/power imbalance, employer-employee relationships. Reader discretion is advised.

Read this on AO3 | Check out my Masterlist

The office is eerily quiet, the low hum of the central air system the only sound as you perch yourself on Dave’s lap. Your back arches slightly, your hands gripping the polished edge of his mahogany desk to keep your balance. The soft fabric of your dress bunches around your waist, exposing the creamy expanse of your thighs and the black lace of your panties pushed to the side. His hands grip your hips, his fingers digging into your flesh as you move atop him in slow, deliberate rolls of your hips.

Your heart pounds in your chest, and it’s not just from the pleasure coursing through your veins. It’s always like this. Heated. Urgent. Completely reckless. You bite your lower lip, stifling the sound bubbling up your throat, your mind warring with itself. You hate and love this in equal measure. You love how his touch makes you feel alive in a way nothing else ever has, and you hate the reality you always face when it’s over.

His thick cock stretches you perfectly, filling you in a way that makes your breath hitch with every movement. Each upward thrust of your hips meets the firm grip of his hands, steadying you as he guides you into a rhythm that is both demanding and intoxicating.

“Fuck, baby, I love this so much…” he groans, his deep voice sending shivers down your spine. His head rests against the back of his executive chair, his sharp features cast in the dim light of the desk lamp. “You feel so goddamn good. Always so damn good…”

Your chest tightens at the words. They aren’t new. He always says things like that when you’re in a moment like this. And the pounding in your chest isn’t from the building pleasure but from the knowledge that this will never be more than what it is… A dirt little secret from the world. 

Your internal conflict swirls in your chest, tangled with the physical ache of your body chasing the high he always brings you to. He shifts slightly, leaning forward to press a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses along your shoulder. His teeth graze your skin, making you clench around him involuntarily.

“Don’t stop,” he commands, his voice low and rough. One of his hands slides from your hip, skimming over your stomach before dipping lower, his fingers finding your swollen clit. He presses tight, deliberate circles there, and you gasp, your head falling back against his shoulder as the sensation shoots through you like a bolt of lightning.

“Dave,” you whimper, your grip on the desk tightening as your thighs tremble. You’re so close, the coil in your belly winding tighter and tighter, threatening to snap.

“Not yet,” he growls, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear. “You don’t cum until I tell you to.”

You whimper, biting your lip hard to stifle the moan threatening to escape. You try to focus on the desk under your hands, on the steady rhythm of your hips against his, but the sensation of his fingers rubbing your clit while his cock fills you to the hilt is too much. Your body quivers, teetering on the edge of release.

And then the phone fucking rings.

You freeze, your breath hitching in your throat. He lets out a low growl of frustration, his hand stilling on your nub as he reaches for the phone on his desk. He glances at the caller ID and sighs heavily before answering.

“York,” he says, his voice clipped, though his fingers resume their torturous circles on your clit. Your eyes widen, your body trembling as you try to stay still, to keep quiet, but it’s impossible.

“Yes, the investment presentation is on track,” he says into the phone, his tone professional despite the way his hand works you over, keeping you on the brink. He leans back in his chair, his free hand gripping your hip tightly to steady you. His voice drops slightly as he says, “I’ll call you back. My secretary is… coming.”

Your cheeks burn, your breath coming in sharp gasps as he ends the call and drops the phone back onto the desk. Before you can recover, his hands grip your hips again, and he thrusts up into you hard, his movements unrelenting.

“Cum for me, baby,” he growls, his voice rough and commanding. “Now.”

Your body obeys, your release crashing over you like a tidal wave. You cry out, your walls clenching tightly around him as your thighs quiver. Your head falls back, your eyes squeezed shut as the pleasure wracks through you. He doesn’t stop, his pace relentless as he chases his own high, your body tightening around him only spurring him on.

“Fuck,” he groans, his head against your nape as he comes, his cock pulsing as he fills you with his release. His fingers dig into your hips, holding you tightly against him as he empties himself inside you. You swear you can feel every hot rope of his release, leaving you feeling bloated and utterly spent.

The room is silent except for your ragged breathing. You slump forward, your hands still braced on the desk as you try to catch your breath. His hands soften their grip, his fingers brushing over your skin in lazy, soothing strokes.

It’s always like this. Passionate and consuming. And yet, as you clean up, straightening clothes and fixing hair, the reality always looms. He kisses you softly, his lips lingering on yours for a moment longer than usual, but it’s not enough to chase away the ache in your chest.

You watch him leave, his jacket slung over his shoulder as he walks to the elevator. He will go home to his family, to his wife, and lay in bed beside her while you lay awake in your own. And that’s the part that hurts the most. This is all you could ever be. And you hate that it isn’t enough—but you hate even more that you can’t stop wanting him anyway.

[josephquinnswhore]

filling the missing pieces - Dave York x female reader

summary: when Dave’s wife leaves him and takes the kids, he finds a replacement, in you. But as the sheriff, he has to keep up the act of trying to find you.

word count: 1.7k

content warning: ⚠️ Dead dove do not eat⚠️ read warnings before reading!!! kidnapping, power play, manipulation, reader has stockholm syndrome, throat fucking, age gap reader mid twenties, mentions of starvation, sensory deprivation, abuse of power, being shackled, restraints, cum training, cumming in food, degrading, use of mama/angel/daddy, afab, reader is pregnant, Dave cums down readers throat. missing persons investigation. mouth spitting. face fucking, somnophilia, reader wears lingerie. dave is divorced and hates his wife…she took the kids. @sunshineispunk

My contribution for Dead Dove December 2024. @romana-after-dark

Part two.

He sits at his hardwood desk staring at the metallic tag with his name on it, the inside of his office is stuffy despite the chilled gust of the air conditioner blowing directly onto the back of his neck. The hairs stand upright at the sensation.

The papers in front of him are scattered, stacks of papers and documents he had to stifle through. From phone reports to anonymous tips. Reports of a possible sighting of a missing person; you.

The paper felt thick in his hands, the sheet of good quality paper was one your parents had mandated and paid for out of pocket.

He had your wanted flier memorised.

Mid twenties, height, age, weight, facial features, the length and colour of your hair. Even the date of your last official sighting.

Everyone knew what the chances were of you being found at all, let alone alive. Everyone knew, the first forty eight hours are critical to any missing persons investigation. This was no different, worse, if anything. A young, beautiful woman like you.. your disappearance couldn’t have led to anything good.

But it had been four months to the day.

Austin was a relatively quiet town, and Dave hadn’t ever seen a case like this, the last kidnapping was little over thirty years ago well before he joined the police force. As the sheriff, it was his responsibility to handle the case, worse off—the press. His first high profile case, and he was working his ass off, everyone could see just how devoted he was to the cause.

Even when everyone else had given up hope.

A knock rattles the blinds on the window of his door. “Come in.”

Another officer removed his hat, holding it to his chest to show respect as he swung the door open, hand still wrapped around the handle. “Sir, the press meeting is in five minutes.”

Every thought that Dave had about possibly fighting your case spiralled at the distraction. “Right.” He sighs wearily, taking his suit coat off the back of his chair and pulling his arms through it, straightening his collar. Taking a look at his sheriff's badge before he strolls out of the freezing climate of his personal office.

All eyes are on him, the camera is rolling live to thousands of folk, to whomever had access to a television. Your parents were giving up hope, the light in their eyes wisping away with each conference. They’d spent thousands of dollars on resources, conferences, fliers, private investigators, no one had heard or seen a thing about you since you disappeared.

Dave stands in front of the microphone, his rehearsed speech rolling off his tongue with a sense of empathy.

“We are pleading once again, for everyone to think of this young woman and her parents, the impact this is having on us all. We are asking any possible witnesses to step forward if you have seen or heard anything in regards to this case that might help us. We just want to bring this young woman home to her parents.”

The reporters are holding microphones toward him, arching their arms taut as far as they could. The flashes of pictures being taken make him squint.

A barrage of questions are being shouted at Dave.

“Do you know if the girl is alive?”

“Why are you wasting taxpayers money?”

“Is it true your wife left you?”

Dave knows he shouldn’t have said anything, he should’ve kept his head level and left with his right hand officer.

But he wasn’t going to let them speak about you like this.

Instead, his face reddens, a thick vein bulges out of his forehead. “I have been relentless in trying to find this girl! Sacrificed my own family, I have put my blood, sweat and tears into finding this girl,” he roared, the anger carried through the room. “What have you all done? Nothing. Nothing but pry and harass the parents that are suffering.”

There had been rumours of Dave being divorced, his two girls taken away due to the case. In the truth of the matter his wife filed for divorce well before you disappeared. And now it seemed the entire town knew.

“Now if you all don’t mind, I have work to do, the case isn’t going to solve itself.”

His footsteps are heavy, and the room was silent as he walked out of it. Perhaps it was a little too much for him to blow up like that.

But he had to convince them, everyone. The world. That he was a struggling father and husband first, a man who could sympathise with the parents and the young woman.

That he would stop at nothing until you return.

LATER THAT EVENING

The home he walks into isn’t one he feels comfortable in.

Not that he actually gave a fuck that his wife had walked out on him, but he missed his girls. His two daughters, the light of his life. Snuffed by a bitter wife who wanted to punish him by taking them away.

Using his own children to hurt him. Wench.

He learned the hard way, even as the sheriff of this town; that women were almost always ruled in favour of full custody of the children in the court.

He locks the door behind him, thoughts swirling bitterly around his mind as he takes off his suit coat and hangs it by the door.

But he knew there’s one thing that would always make him feel right at home.

Beelining for his bedroom, he leans against his work desk and pushes it agaisnt the wall, lifting the Persian rug that covered a trap door.

He takes the key out of his pocket, and opens the wooden door, climbing down the ladder into the basement.

“Angel?” He coos, the sound is barely registered through the soundproof walls.

As he jumps down, he turns the light on, and his eyes focus in on you.

Your eyes flit open as the light flicks on, sitting up as best you could with the heavy shackles on your wrists and feet.

“Dave?” You call out softly, lifting your hands to rub your tired eyes.

He approaches, kneeling beside the bed. “Don’t say anything, angel. I’m here to look after you.”

A quiet, doubtful whisper escapes your lips. “Do they miss me?”

His heart aches at your innocent question, the tears welling in your eyes. The desire to be needed.

But he squishes that hope down. “No, angel. They quit lookin’ for you. I told you they don't care ‘bout you, didn’t I?”

His hand trails down your cheek in a soft caress.. “but you know I care about you. Don’t you?”

You nod against his hand, and he believed you.

It had taken months to get you to this point, finally giving into him, after using many methods to wear you down.

Food restriction, starvation, degradation, sensory deprivation, chaining you up. He had even cum in your food for two weeks straight to train you to love the taste of him. Preparing you so that he could stuff himself in your mouth.

It had taken quiet than he thought it would to break you down, you don’t scream or cry anymore. Hadn’t for a while. In fact he could see that now; you return the loving gaze.

He prodes the key into your heavy shackles to unlock them, rubbing the small red rings around your wrists.

“Don’t want anythin’ happenin’ to my angel do I?” He utters to himself, bringing your wrists to his lips to kiss the ache away.

“You’re glowing, angel.” The praise against your skin makes you shiver. “Must be from daddy’s cum.”

He loved how you looked in your rose gold lingerie nightwear he’d brought for you.

“Thank you. I missed you today. Did a lot of reading. I’m grateful for the books.” He loved how confident you’d become since you’d been with him.

No more introverted girl across the street.

“Atta girl. It’s good to keep your mind busy.”

His large thumb caresses your lips apart, and you open your mouth for him, poking your tongue out. A twisted smile stretches his lips wide, and he spits onto your tongue, forcing you to follow as he sticks his thumb down your throat.

“Such a good girl.” He praises, and you whine, sucking on his thumb softly, swirling your tongue around it to entice him, he lets out a low groan.

“Do you want more of me?” He purrs.

“Please, please, please,” you whimper softly, muffled by his thumb in your mouth. You’d grown so used to the feeling of his thickness stuffing your mouth, you felt empty without it. “Need you.”

He removes his moist thumb and pulls his thick, weeping cock out of his slacks. Both hands grip the back of your hair, forcing the leaking tip into your mouth.

“Open up, for me, angel.” He coaxed, and you obey. Mouth relaxing as it opens wide.

Sliding half of his length inside of your mouth, he throws his head back. Clenching his eyes shut.

He rams into your throat causing it to constrict and you to gag around him, jaw starting to ache as he uses you.

Hips pressing into you desperately, with each effort of bottoming out down your throat he can feel your nose against his public hair.

“Takin’ me so well, angel.” He praised, low and guttural. “Fuckin’ swallowin’ me.”

Tears are falling down your cheeks, snot and spit drooling down your face and his legs as he fucks into your throat.

The sight of you was enough for his heavy balls to constrict and fill his thick, warm load inside of your mouth, trickling down your throat gives you no choice but to swallow. He growls, fingers curling around your hair, impossibly shoving himself deeper into your throat.

His pants are heavy, thick as he pulls himself out of you. Wiping your tears away, he leans down to kiss your forehead.

“I love you,” you whisper hoarsely.

He hums against the warm, sticky skin of your cheek in approval. Nose pressed into your temple.

“I love you too, and my precious babies. You’re going to be the best mama ever, aren’t you?”

His hands trail down to your swollen stomach, where he prayed he had filled you with multiple babies.

You nod reverently, hands holding his own on top of your swollen stomach. No secret that you’re incredibly excited to be a mother. “I hope we have two. A boy and a girl. You’re gonna be the best dad to these babies.”

That makes Dave’s heart lurch inside of his chest. “Me too, angel.”

He knew he had chosen the right one and he wouldn’t ever share you with the world again.

[absurdthirst]

The Woman He Needs {Dave York x Plus Sized!F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 18.7k

Warnings: Infidelity, dom/sub dynamic, unbalanced power dynamic, sugar baby/daddy-ish arrangement, body image issues, fat phobia, oral sex (male receiving), teasing, edging, rough sex, choking, cum play, mentions of a breeding kind, asphyxiation/ breath play, pregnancy, mentions of abortion, hints of violence, threats, demands to continue a pregnancy, confessions, Carol finds out, attack on a pregnant woman, divorce, happy endings

Comments: Dave York's assistant and very own personal sex toy, you are completely dedicated to giving him whatever he wants. Even knowing that he is married. Making it even more complicated when the situation changes.

Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers

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“Mr. York.” You knock on the door and open it less than an inch to see if your boss is busy. The file in your hand is one that he had requested, but that doesn’t mean that he’s not already on a conference call or something. He’s still wearing his suit jacket, not taken off yet but his tie is already pulled loose, a look that you love on the handsome DIA agent. He waves you in and you push the door open wider, knowing that you couldn’t fit through some small crack, you are too plump for that. “I have that file you wanted.” Dave York was a meticulous agent and often demanded information quickly. 

Dave looks up at you, a smirk on his face as he watches you set the file down on his desk. “Thank you.” He says, his eyes dragging down your figure. You’re wearing that dress he loves and you look fucking fantastic. “Shut the door.” He orders, setting his pen down and you shut the door behind you, leaning against it. “Come here.” He orders, pointing at the space in front of him beside his desk. You slowly walk over to him and stand before him as he turns his chair to face you. “Take them off.” He orders and your eyes widen, “take what off?” You ask, innocent eyes staring at him and he chuckles. “Those panties I bought you. Take. Them. Off.” He orders, “now.”

You bite your lip, cunt clenching at the authority in his tone. You know that he would strip them off of you if you refused, probably ripping them in the process and they are nice panties. It should be weird that your boss buys your underwear, but he fucks you enough that its almost his job to provide panties with as many as he ruins. “Yes sir.” You demure, bending down slightly as you reach under your dress to slide your panties down your thighs. 

Dave holds his hand out and you place the lace in his palm. “Good girl. Now, I want you to get under my desk and take my cock out. I have a call to make and it’s going to be boring. I don’t like being bored. I want you to entertain me.” He says, shoving the underwear in his desk drawer. “Are you going to keep me waiting?” He asks, eyebrows raised as you look at him a moment too long.

Your mouth waters, knowing exactly what he wants. The space under his desk will fit you, it’s been something that you’ve checked before. Dave wants you to suck his cock while he’s on the phone and you glance back at the door. It’s a good thing you had set the phone system to go to messages, knowing that he could have you under his desk for hours. Moving over to the desk, you kneel down to crawl underneath. 

Dave is already half hard for you. Your perfume he bought you wafting into his office from your desk right outside coupled with your sweet voice over the phone has him ready for you. You fumble slightly as you work his pants open and you pull his half hard cock out. “Shit.” Dave grunts when you wrap your fingers around his length. He scans his email, looking for the number he needs to call while he hardens in your grip.

You love when he is filthy. Picking up his desk phone and starting to punch in numbers while you stroke his cock until he’s fully hard. “Don’t fucking play around.” He growls, making you smirk slightly under his desk and take your hand away to spit in it, wrapping around his cock again and slicking him up. He grunts at the wetness and you lean forward to press your tongue to the slit. Wondering if he had fucked Carol last night, it was Thursday and she always wanted sex after watching Grey’s Anatomy.

“Hey, Davis. Just wanted to follow up with the reports from the latest mission. Yeah, I got my secretary to type it - shit - sorry. Yeah, she’s a good girl.” Dave groans slightly on the last part, your mouth engulfing his cock and he makes a fist as he grips the phone. Your mouth is so fucking hot and wet around his cock. Carol didn’t jump him last night and he was grateful but he’s pent up and ready to cum.

You preen quietly around his cock, knowing that praise was meant for you. Taking him deeper into your mouth and down your throat before you swallow around his length. Loving the way he twitches on your tongue. You’re going to drip onto the carpet under his desk, sucking his cock always making you wet. It’s why he took your panties, he loves seeing how wet you get from pleasuring him. Calling you his filthy, cock hungry whore. You love it. Your body isn’t slim and perfect, you’re plus sized but Dave loves fucking you for some reason.

Dave exhales deeply through his nose, listening to Davis ramble on about the logistics of the mission and the financials but Dave doesn’t give a fuck. He just needs to get this call out of the way. He reaches down to caress your cheek, loving the way he can feel the bulge of his cock against your skin. “Yeah. I think that’s a good move.” He tells Davis and he tells you as you hollow your cheeks around him.

He’s already starting to throb on your tongue, the taste of his pre-cum smearing around your mouth. He must be pent up. Him and Carol obviously didn’t have sex yesterday and so you want to make this good for him. You know you don’t have Dave, he’s married, he has a family. But he wants you for now, so you try to give him everything he wants from you sexually.

“Just like that.” He tells Davis and you. Davis is reciting the wording on the report and you are blowing him with an expertise that Dave taught you from that first time. You moan around his cock and he twitches in your mouth. He’s so close. His hand slides lower to your throat, gripping it slightly and his grip on the phone tightens.

It’s his signal that he’s about to cum. Your cunt clenches around nothing as you try to open your throat as much as possible. If Dave is already about to cum, he’s either pent up from stress or he didn’t fuck Carol last night. Either way, you are about to get a thick load of cum spurting down your throat and he would be mad if you let one drop get on his pants or your dress. You reach up and squeeze his thigh, already starting to swallow around him as you bob on his cock. 

Dave grunts while Davis rambles down the line about the report but Dave's cock twitches as he starts to cum down your throat. You swallow around him, making him close his eyes as he grips the phone and his grip on your neck tightens as he feels you swallowing every damn drop. "Fuck, that's good." He grunts and Davis says down the line, "thanks, boss."

His salty seed slides down your throat and you moan quietly around his length. Careful not to be too loud so Davis wouldn’t hear. Gasping when he finally quits cumming and you pull off his cock. Holding him gently and pulling out a handkerchief to dry him off so you can tuck him back into his pants and wipe your mouth. 

Dave inhales deeply, “I gotta go Davis. Sounds like you got it handled.” Dave slams the phone down and pulls back from his desk, looking down at you as you lick your lips. “Sit on my desk and spread your legs, sweetheart.” He orders, “I wanna see how wet you got sucking my cock.”

It’s hard to smirk as you are crawling out from under a desk, but you manage. Standing up and sitting on the edge of his desk as you slide your dress up to show Dave your soaked cunt. You could feel how slick you are as you moved and you know he will be very pleased. “Soaked,” you coo softly, your throat a little rough from deepthroating his cock. 

Dave hums, admiring your slick folds, and his hands slide along your thick thighs, squeezing the flesh as he leans in to smell the heady scent of your arousal. “So wet for me. You look like you need me to make you cum.” He coos, sliding his fingers through your wet folds. Your moan makes him chuckle and he pulls his fingers away. “Baby…” You whine and he slaps your pussy. “You know what to call me.” He growls and you pant, “sir. Please.” He loves hearing you beg but he loves to leave you squirming even more. He slaps your pussy again, your slick on his palm, “back to work. I want that report from Davis proofread before I get it.”

You whimper, loving and hating how you are being denied. “Yes sir.” You agree breathlessly, standing on wobbly legs, pressing your thick thighs together. You push your dress down. “May I have my panties back?” You ask, nodding when he just stares at you. You’re not getting them back obviously. “I’ll get right on that, sir.”

Dave smirks when you exit his office, gingerly walking from the arousal slicking up your thighs. He loves working you up, making you beg him to fuck you. A few hours pass by and Dave calls your name, “I want my lunch. Can you get it for me?” He asks, knowing you’ll rush out to get it but he’s not hungry for that sandwich he gets most days from down the street. No, he wants you. He’s hungry for you.

“Yes sir.” You quickly lock your computer and stand to go into his office. Most days you know his order by heart, but you always double check in case he has a craving for something different. Gathering your purse and your keys, you knock on his door frame and try not to smile when he looks up from his computer. “Would you like your regular order?” You ask softly. 

Dave raises his eyebrows, pleased that you ask in case he wants to try something else. “The usual will suffice.” He says coolly and you nod, spinning around. His eyes drop down to your ass and he watches you leave. He licks his lips and turns back to his computer, continuing to read the file on his next op.

Running down to the deli that Dave loves gives you a chance to get in your steps. Deciding to walk instead of driving, changing from your heels to your tennis shoes for the exercise. You constantly ignore the dismissive looks, the skepticism as you hustle by. You’ll order Dave his sandwich and a salad for yourself. 

When you return, Dave looks up to see you carrying his sandwich into his office and he smirks at you, "thanks, sweetheart." He takes the sandwich from you, "go take your lunch and come back here when you're done." He orders, loving the way you nod and hustle out of the room.

You eat at your desk. Aware that Dave could call for you at any moment, that he could need something. Even when you are taking lunch, you know that anything could interrupt that at any point. DIA issues don’t conform to normal hours. Pulling out your own container, you push away the salad dressing, knowing you don’t need the extra calories. Your bottle of water is what you will drink with it, keeping everything as nutritious as possible. 

Dave finishes his sandwich, balling up the wrapper and tossing it into the trash and he decides to grab a coffee. You will be eating and he doesn't want to interrupt you on your break. He makes his way out of his office and sees you sitting at your desk with a salad, dressing on the side. "How the hell can you eat a salad without dressing?" He asks, leaning against the door frame.

You look over at him, lifting a brow at his obvious disdain for your meal. “One bite at a time.” You hum, forking up another bite of the undressed greens and chew, looking up at him. He’s so sexy as he leans there and you wonder again why the hell he touches you. Sure, he’s not as fit as he was when he first joined the DIA, but he was still in much better shape than you have ever been. “It’s healthy and I need to watch my calories.” You smirk slightly. “Already got my protein.” 

Dave scoffs, pushing off of the door frame and he strides over to your desk. He picks up the small pot of dressing and opens it, pouring it over your salad. "Life is too short to eat boring ass leafy greens. You are fucking perfect like you are. Eat your salad with the dressing to be healthy but enjoy your food." He says, setting the empty pot down on your desk.

You stare at him for a moment, wondering why he would ruin your lunch like that. “Okay.” You put your fork down and pick up your water bottle. “Are you needing something else, sir?” You ask politely, taking a drink of water. “You are waiting on me to finish?” 

"Take your time. I do want to see you in my office after you're done." He says and decides to use the bathroom while you are finishing your lunch. "Eat up, sweetheart. You need the energy." He winks and makes his way to the bathroom down the hall.

You smirk slightly, knowing what that means and you quickly toss the rest of the salad in the trash. Rushing off to the bathroom yourself since you are sure that Dave will want to fuck you when you get back to his office. He’s quicker than you, already behind his desk once more when you come back to the hallway outside his door where your desk is positioned. “You wanted to see me?” You ask, slightly breathless after hurrying through your own bathroom ritual. 

Dave nods, his expression serious, and he gestures to the door, "come in and lock it." He demands, watching as you follow his order. "Come here and pull your dress up. I want you to sit on my desk, spread your legs." He orders, his cock twitching in his pants.

You walk towards the desk, pulling up your dress as you go and ignoring the way you imagine your thighs jiggle as you do. Watching as he pushes back from the desk to allow you to move past him and sit on it like you had earlier. Thankful that the desk is sturdy enough to hold you, not even creaking when you sit down and spread your legs like you had been ordered. It’s good it wasn’t one of those glass top things, it would never have supported you. 

Dave’s dark eyes trail along your figure down to your pussy. God, you look delicious and he wants to devour you but right now, he wants to tease you. His fingers trail along your thighs until he is sliding them through your folds. “Want you to keep quiet and cum on my fingers.” He demands, rubbing your clit with his thick digits.

Your eyes close, head tilting back as you suppress a moan. Burying it deep inside, but you love the way his thick fingers caress your skin. Knowing exactly how to touch you from the second time he had fucked you. It’s wrong, but you don’t care when he pulls orgasms out of you as easily as he does. You are a distraction, a comfort to him when he can do the things to you that he can’t or won’t do to his wife and in return, you get mind blowing pleasure. You bite your lip, holding the edge of the desk to keep from rocking forward to meet his fingers, knowing he wouldn’t like you to try to take control. 

Dave watches your eyelashes flutter as he pushes two thick digits into your tight cunt. You moan softly and he curls them inside of you, twisting his wrist so he can press his thumb to your clit. He loves how you take whatever he gives you. You take it with a moan like a depraved whore. His whore.

He’s going to let you cum. Your next moan is bitten off and you press your lips together to keep quiet. You can’t let anyone passing by hear what he’s doing to you in this office. Leaning back onto his desk even more while he does what he wants with you. “Dave.” you whimper breathlessly. 

He watches you with a smirk, pumping his fingers into your needy pussy and he loves the way you struggle to keep quiet. “You gotta be quiet. Otherwise everyone in the office will know what a slut you are for me. How you take your boss’s cock.”

He loves mocking you. Making fun of how desperate you get for him. Smirking as he stands over you, his fingers buried inside you and looking as if he could be doing anything. You bite your lip harder as he curls his fingers up and presses against that spongy spot deep inside you. 

Dave pumps his fingers a little faster, loving the way your jaw drops and he focuses on that spot that makes your thighs shake. He loves watching you take what he gives you without complaint. Carol would be moaning about how he “isn’t getting the right spot” or “your fingers aren’t thick enough.” You take what he gives you and you fucking love it.

You swear that you are surprised you don’t leave an impression on the desk from where your fingers dig in, you hold it so tight. Hanging on for dear life while he pumps those thick fingers deep into your cunt and makes you feel like the rubber band in your stomach is about to break. “D-Dave.” you gasp out, wanting permission to cum and you are so close now that your thighs are shaking. 

“That’s it, sweetheart. Always so good for me. Always so fucking good. Want you to cum for me.” He demands, curling his fingers a little more and you break for him. You bite down on your lip and clench down on his fingers, your head thrown back and he chuckles as you whine quietly.

Dave never immediately pulls his fingers away when you cum, something you are eternally grateful for. Enjoying the trembling aftershocks as he works you through your high and pulls pleasure from you like a skilled surgeon. Fingering you until your walls are done quivering.

He loves the way you slump slightly and he withdraws his fingers from your pussy. “Gonna fuck you now. And you are gonna take what I give you. Take my cock out.” He demands, reaching out to squeeze your tits through your dress.

You whimper, enjoying the rough squeeze and fumble with his belt to pull his hard cock out of his pants. Wrapping your hand around it and pumping it firmly even though it is fully hard from making you cum. Still unable to believe he wants to fuck you.

He bats your hand away after letting go of your tits, and he shuffles closer, pressing the head of his cock to your folds. He pushes into you with a groan and he surges forward to press his lips to your neck when he’s pressing against your cervix.

You whimper, closing your eyes and your hands hold onto his shoulders. Squeezing him tight in your cunt and enjoying the way he groans and twitches inside you. “Fuck.” You gasp quietly, “so good, Dave.”

He grabs your hands, pulling your arms behind your back, and he keeps your wrists together. He arches your back and kisses down your neck, biting on the juncture of your shoulder where it can be hidden by your sensible cardigan. “You always take me so fucking well.” He groans just as the phone rings. “Keep quiet.” He demands, keeping your wrists in his grip and he reaches for the phone, picking it up with his free hand. “York.” He answers and he hears the voice of his wife. “Hey, baby. I wondered what you wanted for dinner tonight.” She coos and Dave continues rocking into you. “The girls said something about meatloaf.” He says nonchalantly as he fucks you a little harder.

You grit your teeth, trying not to make a sound as Dave casually talks to his wife with his cock buried inside you. It’s both thrilling and insulting at the same time, making you wish you had the guts to moan. You curl your hands into fists and bare down on his cock as hard as you can as he fucks you.

Dave chokes at the way you grip his cock inside of you, and he gives you a warning look. “Behave.” He mouths and you smirk, clenching around him again. He shakes his head and continues to discuss dinner with Carol. “Yeah. I won’t be late. Okay, honey. See you later. Yeah, I love you too. Bye.” He says and slams the phone down in the cradle, “you’re a naughty girl.” He tuts, gripping your chin in his hand. “Open your mouth.” He demands and you don’t obey him right away. He squeezes your jaw, forcing you to open your mouth, and he leans closer to spit in your mouth.

You moan quietly, loving how filthy he is when he pushes your mouth closed. “Swallow it.” He orders, snapping his hips forward harshly and making you choke as you swallow his spit. His cock is splitting you in two and you can’t help but wonder how he has the fucking stamina to fuck both you and Carol all the time. You know that if his cock is this good she must want it all the time. You do.

He loves the way you submit to him, take what he gives you without complaint. He hisses your name and lets go of your jaw and your wrists to grab your thighs, lifting them higher on his hips so he can sink deeper inside of you. “You are a dirty slut. My dirty slut. Say it. Tell me who you are.” He demands, narrowing his eyes at you.

“Yours.” You whimper instantly. “Your dirty slut, all yours.” You are breathless when he pushes your legs back, your tits jiggling from the force of his thrusts and you can’t even look over your stomach to watch his cock disappearing into your cunt, but you can feel it. “Your slut, only yours.”

He looks down at where you are taking him. You always take him so well. You are tight and wet and you let him do what he wants to you. Carol doesn’t like anything except missionary and he’s a man who gets easily bored. “That’s right. Mine.” He growls, thrusting harder.

You have to slap your hand over your mouth when you squeal, not wanting anyone to hear you. Taking his rough thrusts and loving how his cock shreds up inside you. He always hits perfectly and you feel your body tensing again, close to another orgasm.

He should deny your orgasm but he doesn’t want to. He needs to keep you sweet. He needs you to want him, to need him. He likes being needed. His cock twitches inside of you, and he slides his hand down to rub your clit, wanting to feel you clamp down on his cock.

“Dave….Dave.” Your whimpers are barely audible, but you know he hears them over the slick sounds of his cock pounding into your cunt. “Fuck baby, oh god.” Your eyes close the second your body locks up, convulsing under his as his fingers throw you over the edge. Shaking apart on his desk violently as your orgasm crashes through you.

Your orgasm makes him groan, eyes closing at how tight you squeeze him, soaking his cock enough to make the slick sounds of sex even louder in the small office. “Shit. That’s it. That’s - you’re such a good girl for me.”

You bask in his praise, soaking it up to hold onto when you’re alone tonight and Dave is with his picture perfect family. You shouldn’t be jealous, but you are and his praises help soothe that beast inside you. You whimper again, wanting to feel him cum. To drip him for the rest of the night until you clean up. “Dave.”

He grunts as he pushes into you, his cock pulsing as he gets closer to his climax. “Fuck. So fucking tight.” He hisses as you clench around him again and he pants, nostrils flaring as he thrusts deep. “Shit. I’m gonna cum and you’re gonna take it all. Fill that pussy up.” He hisses as he thrusts deep and throbs, painting your walls with his cum.

You whine in absolute delight at the heat that floods you. It won’t be as much as when you sucked his cock, but it’s enough to ruin your panties if he gives them back. You sigh softly, trying to catch your breath as you watch him ride out his orgasm, jaw clenched and eyes dark.

Dave closes his eyes as he twitches inside of you. Fuck, you are so goddamn good around him. He loves how you take whatever he gives you. He groans as he withdraws from you, his cum pooling at your entrance already and he reaches into his drawer to pull out your panties. "Want you to put these on and keep my cum in you until you go home."

“Yes sir.” You take the panties from him, climbing off the desk and quickly slipping them on. Taking a moment to fix your appearance so you can go back out to your desk and gather your things. It’s time to go home and you know he needs to leave quickly to spend time with his daughters. “Anything else you need, Mr. York?” You ask professionally. “Or may I go home for the evening?”

Dave tucks himself away, buckling his belt. "You can go home for the night. Tomorrow, I want you to wear that red number I bought you." He smirks and walks over to you, gripping your chin before you open the door, "and keep your weekend free. Carol is taking the girls to her mom's house so I want to come to yours and spread you out on that mattress I bought you and keep you there until the sheets are soaked."

Your just fucked cunt clenches and you nod while he still holds your chin. “Yes sir.” You agree breathlessly, knowing he would be rough and making it hard for you to walk by the time he’s through with you. He will walk into your house like he owns it, because he does. He had bought a house and installed you in it, claiming your apartment was a piece of shit and he didn’t want to get robbed when he wanted to come over and fuck you. “All weekend?”

"Alllll weekend." He confirms, "Carol will be gone and I want you to be ready for me. I am going to use that little pussy until you beg me to stop. And you never beg me to stop, do you baby? You are fucking desperate for my cock." He chuckles, caressing your cheek.

Your cheek burns under his hand, knowing that it’s pathetic how badly you crave him. He’s making fun of you again and like the masochist you are, you enjoy it. Knowing that he is somehow addicted to you because of it. “I am.” You agree quietly. “Always want your cock.”

He loves to hear that. Loves the way your lower lip quivers at the admittance and he chuckles, rubbing your lower lip with his thumb. “Prepare your ass for me. That’s what I want first when I come over Friday night.” He demands, knowing you have the toys he bought for you to keep at your house.

Biting your lip, you nod. Distracting yourself from trying to lean in to kiss Dave. He sometimes didn’t want to kiss you and after he pushed you away that first time, you’ve refrained from trying again. Feeling humiliated enough at being reminded that you are just a fuck for him. “Yes sir.” You agree and feel proud when he smiles. “You should go home.” You remind him softly. “The girls will be eager to see you.”

“Carol is waiting. She made meatloaf and I fucking love her meatloaf.” He smirks and lowers his hand from your cheek. “See you tomorrow, sweet cheeks.” He winks and grabs his jacket from his chair, shrugging it on and he grabs his briefcase. “Text me a photo of your cum filled cunt when you get home. Gimme something to think about when Carol wants me to fuck her later.”

Your smile tightens but he doesn’t notice, because you’ve turned your back to head out to your desk. “Yes sir.” You answer, as if there would be any other answer to give him. You don’t deny Dave, ever. Gathering your own coat and purse, you busy yourself with getting ready to leave as he walks out of his office. “Good night.” You murmur, expecting him to just walk past to the elevator.

Dave winks at you as he walks past you and down the hall to the elevator. You gather your things, walking gingerly as his cum slicks your panties, and you manage to catch the elevator just as Dave and a few others from the floor step on. Dave and you end up pushed towards the back and his hand wastes no time finding your ass under your dress. “Big plans for the weekend, York?” One of the guys asks Dave who clicks his tongue, “oh yeah. Gonna be practically orgasmic. Lying in bed all day.” Dave chuckles and the others snort, “yeah. I prefer getting some extra z’s in than sex nowadays.” Dave nods, “same here man.” He squeezes your ass as the bell rings for the ground floor. “See you all tomorrow.” The guys say as they filter out of the elevator and Dave smacks your ass before he steps away from you, not looking back as he heads to his car to go home to his wife and kids.

Walking to your own car, you unlock it and climb behind the wheel, taking your time to get comfortable. You don’t have to rush home, needing to stop by the grocery store for the low fat creamer you like and find something to eat. Scrambled eggs and cottage cheese maybe. Who knows, but you damn sure won’t be eating meatloaf.

Dave is watching television with the girls before they have their baths and he is tapping his fingers on his chair. You still haven’t sent him the photo he asked for. He picks up his phone after Carol disappears into the kitchen to clean up, and he texts you ‘where’s my pussy?’

You’re reading a book when the text comes in and you curse. Completely forgetting all about Dave’s picture. You almost text him back and tell him to ask his wife for one but you peel off your panties and spread your thighs to take a picture for your boss. You hit send and sigh softly, picking up your book again.

Dave’s phone beeps and he unlocks it, smirking at the sight of your creamy cunt. He loves that you still have it inside of you. He doesn’t respond back, Carol asks him to help with the girls so he sets his phone aside and gets him into bed. “They’re asleep.” He announces as he unbuttons his shirt. Carol smirks at him and shrugs off her robe, showing Dave the lacy nightie she’s wearing underneath. He wants to roll his eyes at the way she thinks she is so sexy but he can’t help but think you’d look sexier. With a sigh, he strips off and does his husbandly duty but he cums thinking of you and your creamy cunt, not of the woman beneath him.

Your bed is large, empty. Dave had insisted on a king bed when he bought it for you. Not that you had asked him for one. When you had moved in, you had the full sized bed that would fit in your tiny apartment. Dave had come over to christen the house and complained about what a piece of shit the bed was. The next weekend, another was being delivered. It’s comfortable, and it makes you think of Dave every time you crawl between the sheets. Wondering if he had the same bed at his house. With a sigh, you turn off the light and settle down. You have already set out the red outfit Dave wanted you to wear tomorrow.

****

Dave smirks when he sees you wearing the red dress the next morning when he comes into work but he doesn’t call you into his office. He wants you to squirm in your seat, preparing for the weekend. He likes to keep you on his toes. He calls your name and you enter his office, eyebrows raised in anticipation, “coffee?” He asks, lifting up his empty cup.

“Right away.” You know that he could get his own coffee, that was probably the second cup he’s already had, but you take the mug from his hand. It’s one you had gotten him as a little silly Boss Appreciation Day gift. It says ‘World’s Okayest Boss’. You had enjoyed the spanking he gave you that afternoon. Really enjoyed it.

Dave watches you leave the room and smirks to himself, knowing he’s going to have fun stripping that dress off of your body. When you come back with his coffee, he thanks you without looking up from his computer. He likes to blow hot and cold, keeping you on your toes.

You roll your eyes as you walk back to your desk and sit down. Amused with yourself for expecting him to act differently. He does this all the time, it’s like a little game and you allow him to pull you like a puppeteer pulling the strings. You shake off the interaction and pick up your own coffee to blow on while you start on your own work.

Dave ignores you for the rest of the day, getting his own lunch from the fridge that he brought from home, and he watches you as you answer the phone and sort through his mail. He can't wait to pull you apart this weekend, spend his time on your body until you're begging him to let you cum. When the end of day comes around, Dave groans as he stretches and grabs his briefcase, "I gotta head home and say goodbye to the girls. Be ready for eight." He orders, striding off to the elevator without looking back at you.

You huff slightly, slowly shutting down your own computer and gathering your things. Annoyed at how he’s ignored you and now expects you to jump to his whims. Still, you make your way home and climb into a bath, starting to get ready for him.

Dave waves goodbye to Carol and the kids as they back onto the road and he blows them a kiss as Carol pulls away from the house. He stands there for a few minutes before he heads back into the house to lock it up. It doesn't take long for him to grab his weekend bag and get into his car, making his way to your place for the weekend, a wicked smirk on his face when he pulls up outside of the home he bought you.

You had really debated if you should put the red dress back on after he had ignored you all day. Part of you wanted to change into sweats to spite him, to be comfortable. Still, you are fixing dinner for yourself, wearing the red dress. Unable to not disappoint him, despite yourself.

Dave lets himself into the home using the keypad, setting his bag down and he makes his way into the kitchen to find you cooking and the radio playing. "You being good to yourself?" He asks, wanting to make sure you aren't just having lettuce leaves like you tend to do.

“Hey.” You turn and give him a smile before looking back at the pan on the stove. “You didn’t say if you were eating with the girls, so I did some steaks.” They are resting in the oven while you finish sautéeing the green beans. “Steak and green beans sound good?” You ask. “You said to be prepared for a long night.”

Dave comes over to grab your hips, pressing himself against you. “You’re gonna need all the energy you can get.” He smirks against your neck as he leans in to kiss along your skin. “You’re such a good girl.” He coos, squeezing your ass.

Your mild annoyance at Dave fades when he starts to press against you. Tilting your head as you sautée the green beans so he can have more access to your skin. “Have you eaten?” You manage breathlessly, hoping that he will share a meal with you.

“No. Definitely haven’t had my dessert.” His hand slides around your stomach and up to your breast to squeeze. “You gonna feed me, baby girl? Make sure I got enough energy to fuck you into that mattress I bought you? Make sure you can barely fucking walk on Monday when you come into the office?”

“Yes.” It’s pathetic how you whimper, but his words make your cunt clench. The possessiveness in his tone lets you pretend you are actually his. That this isn’t some kind of game to him. A thrill he gets to have when his wife isn’t around. “I want that.”

Dave chuckles at the pathetic way you whimper and his hand squeezes your breast. “Finish making dinner like a good girl and then I expect you kneeling on your bed in that lacy number I bought you last week.” He murmurs against your cheek.

You hate that lingerie. It shows off how big you are. Your rolls on display and all your cellulite exposed. You had cried when you tried it on and had told Dave that you had been too tired to even open the bag. It feels like it was meant to humiliate you and you don’t want to put it on but you can’t deny him. “Okay.”

Dave grins, “good girl. Now, let’s eat. You’ll need your energy. I am planning to keep you in that bed all fucking weekend. Carol was boring as shit, laying there like a goddamn fish on ice. Need you to show me how good it can be.” He coos, stepping away from you so you can finish cooking.

You should hate how he talks about his wife, how he plays it off like you’re better. But you actually love it. Making you feel like you are giving Dave what he needs, even if you know you’re not. He’s just telling you what you want to hear, to make you feel justified in letting this man completely ruin you for anyone else. You’re completely in love with him and you can’t ever have him. You push that thought away and plate up the steaks and green beans. Bringing it over to the table with the wine already opened, like this is some kind of at home date for the two of you.

Dave groans when he sees the steak, cooked to a perfect medium rare, and he lifts his glass up to you when you are sitting down. “To a perfect weekend.” He toasts and winks when you clink your glass against his. He knows it’s wrong to keep you like this. To make you feel like it’s a relationship but this is his escape. You know him, the dark parts of him that Carol never sees, you don’t judge him for it.

Dinner is eaten quickly, both of you hungry and you preen when Dave groans over the meal you had prepared. Soon enough, you are quickly loading the dishes in the dishwasher and rushing to the bedroom to put on the dreaded lingerie that Dave is so eager to see you in. Even if you don’t like it, the fact that he wants to see you in it makes you strip out of the red dress and put it on, kneeling on the bed just like he had ordered after you had lit some candles and turned the lights down.

Dave takes his time washing up in the guest bathroom. He removes his shoes and socks, unbuttoning his shirt a little and splashing his face with water. He makes his way down the hall and opens your bedroom door, groaning at the sight that greets him. "Fuck. You look - baby girl, this is - Jesus. I fucking love it." He growls, striding over to the bed and he reaches out to grab your stomach, loving how every inch of you is on display.

You don’t wince, but you want to. Hating that he automatically went for the part of you that is least attractive. He seems to not care about the flabbiness, or he acts like he doesn’t care. Maybe he thinks that if he pretends to love your body, you will do whatever he wants. Stupidly correct since you will do what he wants anyway. You lick your lips and wonder what he has planned for you tonight.

He loves your body. A perfect example of softness and femininity in his eyes. You are plush and take everything he gives you. He groans your name and slides his hand up to squeeze your tit through the lace. "Looks so pretty for me."

Dave’s hands are large and they perfectly cup your tits. You enjoy the roughness that is tempered sometimes, but you love when he comes back from missions. Especially if they haven’t gone to plan. He’s feral, harsh, demanding on those nights. Often coming to you to fuck away the stress before he even goes home to his family. Almost always, you have to take off the next day because you are so sore, although it’s Dave sending you home instead of you calling in. “Just for you.” You promise, looking up at him.

He loves that look in your eyes, the one that tells him you’ll give him everything if he requests it. He groans and leans in to kiss along your neck, his hands reaching down to unclasp your bra, wanting to see your tits on display and out of the lace he bought you.

Even if you believe it’s an act on his part, he makes you feel beautiful. His hands worship you in their rough, eager way. You moan when he cups your breasts, pinching the nipples after he drags the straps of the bra down your arms and tosses it aside. The lace panties are barely there, hidden under the rolls of flesh and getting soaked by your arousal. “Dave.” You plea, wanting more, wanting him. Anything he will give you. 

He chuckles, letting go of your breast to grip your chin, “patience. You’re not in charge. Who’s in charge?” He asks with a click of his tongue. “You are, sir.” You say and he hums, “that’s right. I’m in charge.” He leans in to bite your chin before he ducks his head and bites down hard on your nipple. His hands are squeezing your ass to drag you closer to his body.

You whine softly, closing your eyes as the pain and pleasure mingle and you give up any kind of resistance to him. You want him to take what he wants, do what he wants with you. You will let him do anything he wants to you, and he loves that. Your body trembles as his tongue soothes the bite and then he moves over to your other breast, biting just as hard. Another whimpered moan escapes your lips and you pant quietly. 

His hand slides down over your stomach, squeezing the flesh before he snakes his fingers into your panties, the lace giving way to his touch, and he quickly finds your clit to rub slow circles on it.

“Baby…” You moan, cunt clenching around nothing and you love how he just knows exactly how to touch you. He might slap your pussy or spit in your mouth, but the way he touches your clit shows you that he knows what he’s doing with your body. It’s not the careless, fumbling swipes of his fingers like past lovers. He’s methodical and it always tears you to pieces. 

“That’s it. Want you to cum just like this. Get that pussy nice and wet for me. Wanna make you feel good tonight. Tomorrow, I won’t be so kind. Want you to feel good tonight, baby girl.” He murmurs, rubbing your clit a little faster.

Multiple days are rare so you will take everything you can get. It will help when the weekends are lonely and you are bombarded with social media posts with the happy York family in your notifications. “Dave.” You moan, sliding your hands up to cup your tits. “So good. It feels so good\ baby.” 

He leans back to watch you squeeze your tits. “I want to watch you touch yourself.” He reaches for the lace of your panties and rips them like they are paper. “Want you to lay down and show me how you touch my cunt when I’m not here.” He demands, reaching up to begin unbuttoning his shirt.

You moan, shifting to lay down and you spread your legs. Most of the time you use a wand, so you open the bedside drawer but Dave tuts. “Use your fingers.” He orders, making you close the drawer and you slide your fingers down to part your puffy folds and press your index finger to your clit.

He groans as he watches you touch yourself. It’s a sight he never gets tired of. He shrugs off his shirt and lets it drop to the floor, his cock pressing against his zipper and he slowly pulls his belt out of the loops after he unbuckles it.

You bite your lip, wondering if he will spank you with his belt tomorrow. He's only done that once before and you were gingerly sitting down for days, even with the cooling cream he had spread over your generous cheeks. “Not as good as you.” You whine, rubbing your clit faster. “Nothing is as good as you.”

“That’s damn right. Only I can make you squeal.” He smirks and unbuttons his pants but he doesn’t pull his cock out. He watches you with dark eyes, “you’re so sexy.” He murmurs, leaning in closer to watch you touch yourself.

You don’t believe that, but your body responds to the praise. Arching up and spreading your legs wider as your fingers work over your swollen nub of pleasure. “Baby, baby touch me.” You beg quietly.

He tuts, shaking his head. “No. I want you to keep going.” He orders and you whine in protest but he reaches out to smack your thigh, loving the way it jiggles. He doesn’t want you to cum yet. He wants you to work yourself up. “So fucking gorgeous.” He murmurs, knowing he needs to tell you that more. You deserve the praise. 

Your eyes slip closed and you start to slowly rock your hips down. Pushing against your fingers and you wish it was Dave. Needing his touch because you can smell him. Dave has a unique scent that you are obsessed with.

He shifts down onto his stomach, his face hovering near your pussy, and he inhales your heady scent as you rub your clit. “Look at me.” He demands, gripping your thighs to push them further apart.

Your eyes instantly pop open, looking down at him between your thighs to see him so close to your cunt. You moan, clenching around nothing again and you wonder if this will be the rare treat of him eating you out.

Dave loves the way you rub your clit and he wants you to feel good. He needs to show you some intimacy every once in a while because it keeps you happy. He can’t be mean to you all the time. He shuffles closer, his dark eyes on you as he bats your hand away and leans in to slide his tongue through your folds, flicking over your clit.

“Dave!” You squeal in surprise, cutting yourself off with a long moan when he drags his tongue through your folds again. “Oh fuck.” You gasp out, ready to do whatever he wants as long as he keeps using his tongue on you. “Fuck.”

He smirks against your folds, loving the way you moan and he laps at you again, determined to make you cum like this. To show you how good he can be. He laps at your clit and his fingers dig into your fleshy thighs, loving the feel of you.

“Fuck Dave.” You whimper his name again, lost in the sensations of his mouth on your cunt. You’ve pleasured him countless times and while he’s always made you cum- except for times he was denying you- you rarely get this kind of treatment. Making you shiver in anticipation of what is to come.

Dave laps at your clit before he slides his tongue down, pushing it into your weeping cunt with a groan. Fuck, you taste so sweet. Always tastes so sweet. He slides his hand up your thigh so he can press his thumb to your clit, rubbing circles on the sensitive bundle of nerves while his tongue curls deep inside of you.

Your fingers tangle into the sheets with a low moan, force of habit keeping you quieter than you know he would probably like. You’re home, you can be as loud as you want. Whimpering as he tongue fucks you, your walls soaking his face as you grind against him.

He can’t see your face like this but he wants to hear you. He pulls back for a second, “want to hear you. Moan for me, baby.” He demands before he dives back in to push his tongue deep inside of you.

It’s like you needed his permission, moans spilling out of you in increasing volume. Letting yourself go and making sure he knows how much you love his tongue buried in your cunt. “Fuck! Fuck baby, you’re so good. So fucking good to me.”

He loves to hear how much you love it. He wants you to be addicted to him, to need him. He loves hearing you moan his name, he wants you to want him. His tongue curls deeper, his cheeks pressed against your thighs as he tries to taste more of you, his thumb rubbing your clit a little faster.

“Oh god.” You whimper, eyes squeezing shut as you pull at the bedsheets. “It’s so- it’s too much.” You gasp, so close to the edge. A few more swipes of his thumb and you are crying out, clenching around his tongue as you soak his face.

He hisses as you clamp down on his tongue, loving the way you cry out so beautifully. Carol never reacts like that. She’s so cold and emotionless. Probably why he married her. Less complicated. Yet now he yearns for your noises, your thrashing from pleasure. He fucking loves it.

He works you through it. Continuing to lavish your cunt with attention until you are wrung dry. Almost overstimulated and your thighs try to close around his head, but you don’t dare. The last time you tried to deny him, he had tied you to the bed.

Dave smirks against your thighs as you finish trembling around him. Fuck, he loves the way you take whatever he gives you. You’re gorgeous and he wants you to believe it, even if he controls your life. He wants you to know that you are desirable. He pulls back from your pussy, chuckling at the way you whine slightly and he slaps at your sensitive folds, “hands and knees.” He demands, pulling his cock out of his pants and he doesn’t take them off yet.

You pant as you roll over, pushing to your knees as you face away from him. Eager to have him inside you after such a blissful orgasm. Only Dave has ever fucked you as hard as you need and made you feel like it wasn’t just a pity fuck, or some need to get his rocks off. Your ass wiggles slightly as you get comfortable and you moan when he slaps it.

He shifts to kneel on the bed, his hands squeezing your ass and he works fast to position his cock at your entrance, pushing into you in one quick thrust. He grabs his belt when he’s fully inside of you, wrapping it around your throat.

Your sharp inhale says it all. You’re surprised by the force around your throat. Eyes bulging in your head and it takes you a split second before you stop yourself from reaching for it. Knowing that you are safe with him because if he wants to kill you, there are easier ways. Instead, you moan, clenching around him.

He loves the way you moan. He grips the leather, using it to keep you still as he thrusts into you. His pace is unrelenting as he fucks you hard. His jaw clenched as he grips the belt, tightening around your throat.

You can’t take full breaths, every last drop of air is being fucked out of you when he slams his cock back inside you. Panting as he rides you, fucks you with no mercy and any sounds you make come out as tiny squeals. Holding on as your eyes roll back in your head while he drills into you.

He is practically straddling your ass and thighs as he rams into you. Sweat beading on his forehead and jaw clenched as he thrusts into you. He groans your name and tightens the belt, loving the squeak that escapes your lips.

It’s almost more than you can take but you press against the belt slightly. Wanting to drop your head but you can’t. Clenching around him when it cuts off your air more. “D-Da-ave!” You gasp.

He loves the way you gasp for air, it makes his cock twitch inside of you. He can feel how close you are to cumming and he doesn’t want that. Not yet. He groans and pulls out of you, loosening the belt.

Gasping, you collapse onto your elbow and suck in air greedily. Not even able to speak for a moment as you try to catch your breath and calm down.

He chuckles at the way you slump. “On your back, hands gripping the headboard.” He demands, “gonna make sure you cum but you won’t be getting off easy.” He smirks and you struggle to shift onto your back. “Hands.” He tuts, reminding you.

You push to your hands and flip onto your back, not caring for once that everything moves. You know it’s an unflattering picture, but you don’t care right now, still panting as you reach up and grab the headboard of the bed.

Dave immediately straddles your figure, leaning down to wrap the belt around your wrists, securing you to the headboard. “Such a needy little whore. You’ll let me do anything, won’t you?” He smirks. Lightly slapping your cheek, he chuckles at the way you shine, his hard cock pressing against your belly.

“Yes, yes sir.” You pant out, positively dripping from how sexy you find all this. It’s like every dark romance novel you’ve ever read and it’s even better. “Anything you want. It’s yours. I’m yours.”

He loves hearing you say that. “Such a good fucking girl.” He groans, leaning in to bite down on your nipple as he shuffles down your body. “You’re so sexy. And all mine. It’s all mine.” He growls against your breast, his cock twitching, and he slaps your other breast while he bites down and sucks on your skin.

You whimper and moan, body jerking at the harsh slap, but you love it. Your hands are tied, you are immobile and still you wouldn’t move if you were free. You want his attention, you need it. “Fuck Dave.” You whine. “More.”

Dave shakes his head, shifting further down your body. "You don't get to make demands. Who fucking owns you? Who owns this pussy?" He growls, reaching down to cup your cunt. "Who owns this goddamn house and your entire wardrobe?"

It’s true. Dave has bought most of your work wardrobe, all of your lingerie and underwear. The only thing that he didn’t buy was the comfy clothes you wear when he’s not around you. You don’t know how he manages it without Carol knowing, but you’re sure it’s funded from his offshore account. “You do. You own me.” It would be horrifying if you didn’t want to be owned by him. “I’m yours.”

He loves hearing you say that. His chest puffing and his cock twitching at the way you openly declare that he owns you. “That’s right, baby. You’re mine. My slut.” He growls, slapping your thighs. “Beg me to fuck you.” He demands, slapping your thighs again.

You moan, eyes rolling back at the sharp sting of his hand. “Fuck me please.” You beg breathlessly. “I need your cock inside me. Only you can make me cum like I need.” You praise him, knowing how much he loves the way you are needy for him. “Please fuck me. Please baby.”

He reaches out to grip your chin, “what do you call me?” He growls and you whimper, “sir. Please fuck me sir.” He smirks, “that’s better.” He smacks your cheek and shifts to grip his cock, positioning himself at your entrance and he pushes into you with a hiss at how wet you are.

You cry out, cunt clenching down around him and the sting on your cheek just adds to the sensation. Your hands tug at his belt, wishing you could touch him. “Fuck! Yes, of fuck yes, sir. Fuck me, please sir. I’m yours.”

He loves the way you writhe beneath him, “that’s it, baby. Take me so well. Take every fucking inch.” He pushes impossibly deeper inside of you. “You are gonna take every goddamn inch until I fill you up and then you’re going to keep my cum inside of you because I fucking own this pussy.”

“Yessss.” You moan quietly, squeezing around him again. You love when he’s possessive and makes you keep his cum inside you. You feel like he has a breeding kink that he doesn’t really talk about. You’ve never asked, it’s none of your business and even if he did, he would never want you to have his child.

Dave grunts as he starts to move, his hands squeezing your flesh, sliding his hands up your body to grab your tits. He squeezes the flesh and pinches your nipples, loving the way you moan his name. That breathless sigh and way your eyes roll back has him twitching inside of you.

Dave rocks into you, making your entire body move with each harsh thrust. Making you moan and whine for more as he does what he wants and makes your thighs shake. He fills you up, his cock seemingly the perfect fit for your cunt, or perhaps it was that your cunt has adapted to his cock. Either way, the way he punches against your walls makes you squeal.

He rams into you, his jaw clenched as he fucks you harder. His hands are squeezing your flesh and he wants you to cum for him. He doesn’t want to deny you, he wants you to squeeze him, soak him. He loves hearing you cum. The way you moan his name.

It’s always intense. Building you up quickly from the snap of his hips and his cock shredding up into you. Everything comes together in perfect harmony. You don’t even warn him you’re about to cum. Your back bows and your second orgasm of the night has you screaming his name, his cock hitting perfectly as you soak him as you squirt.

“Jesus Christ. Look at that.” Dave groans, pulling out of you fast so he can watch your juices splash over the sheets. “Such a dirty little whore. Squirting all over my cock. And look at you, you want more, don’t you?” He chuckles, reaching down to wrap his fingers around his soaked cock, jerking himself.

“Yes, fuck yes.” You pant, knowing you would be so embarrassed if he didn’t find it so sexy. “Need more, sir. Need you, so fucking much.” You tug against the restraining belt again, wishing you could touch him. Stroke his cock for him or suck him off. Anything to give him pleasure.

Your moan is needy and he chuckles, continuing to jerk himself off. “So fucking needy for my cock. Maybe I should just jerk off and cum over your tits. Or I’ll cum over your pussy? Won’t let you feel it inside of you. Or your mouth. What do you want?” He coos sadistically, wanting to torture you.

You whimper, knowing that whatever you say, he will do the opposite. He likes to toy with you, twist you around and loves when you beg him. “Whatever you want. I just want you to feel good.” You moan. “Use me. Use me however you want.”

Dave loves it when you beg him to take what he wants. He continues to pump himself before he lets go, pushing back inside of you in one thrust and he grabs your thighs, pushing them back towards your body. He groans at how tight you are like this.

You grunt, your ability to breathe is nearly cut in half when he pushes your legs back. Moaning quietly as he starts to thrust into you again. All you can do is take him. Your cunt quivering every time he fills you up again and trying to hold him there as he pulls out. “Fuck.” You pant.

He’s feral. Taking out every bit of stress he experienced from work and home out on your pussy. He grunts through clenched teeth as he pushes deep into you. “Take it. Take it like the fucking whore you are. Say it. Say you’re my slut.” He growls, fingers digging into your thighs.

You can barely make a sound when his hips slap against the back of your thighs but you try. “Y-y-yooouuuur sl-slut.” You stutter out, curling your hands around the belt tighter as he hammers into you like a jackhammer.

He hisses, his cock twitching inside of you, and he’s close. So fucking close. “Want you to cum again for me.” He demands, fucking into you hard and fast. He wants you to squirt on him again before he feels you up.

You whine, knowing that if he wants it, he will get it. Dave is tenacious like that. Your toes curl as he ramps up his pace and you are just amazed he hasn’t stopped for a break yet. “D-D-Dave!”

He grips your flesh even harder, harsh breaths escaping his lips as he pushes into you over and over again. “Cum for me. Cum.” He demands, “fucking - do it. Now.” He growls, his back starting to ache but he won’t give in.

Daves orders are like the switch your body needs. Shaking, you cry out breathlessly again. Unable to even say anything, just crying out as you shatter again. Feeling the liquid rush and nearly passing out from the pleasure.

Dave fucking loves the way you soak him and the sheets beneath you. He hisses and pushes deep a half dozen more times, his thrusts squelching as he presses the head of his cock against your cervix and lets go. He groans and his cock pulses as he fills you with hot cum, his head dropping to rest his chin on his chest.

He fills you, your eyes slipping closed and you know that it’s perfect. You’re exhausted from the way he fucked you and you know that if he wanted more you would give it to him. You can’t even catch your breath, but you don’t know if you want to. Opening your eyes again to watch him as he rocks his hips slowly while filling you up.

He pants, closing his eyes as he fills you, and he squeezes your thighs until he relaxes, releasing your flesh from his grip. "Fuck." He huffs happily, knowing that only you can make him feel like this.

****

Since that night, Dave has been out of town for several trips and having to focus on a few different cases that have included long hours and work outside the office. That’s a good thing, because if he had been in, he would have noticed something before you did. You stare at the paper, chewing your bottom lip as fresh tears gather and you wonder how the hell you managed to find yourself in this situation, although that should be rather obvious. You’ve been so upset that the last two days you’ve taken off from work. Next week Dave will be out of town, you can have your procedure and he will never even know there’s been a pregnancy.

Dave can tell there's something wrong. You don't respond to his texts as fast as you normally do. You aren't as starry eyed when you look at him when he walks past your desk before he heads out on an op. He is concerned - not that he'd ever admit that. He decides to head home early. The case is wrapped up and Carol thinks he is out of town for two more days. You won't be expecting him but you'll let him inside. He pulls up down from your house, not on the drive, and makes his way to your door, opening it with the key he had made and he steps inside, wondering what's been going on with you.

Coming out of the bathroom, it’s been a bad day. Between crying and getting sick, you feel horrible. Brushing your teeth after you lost the soup you had eaten, you groan quietly as you move to the kitchen to get a glass of water. The appointment is tomorrow and you are nervous and heartbroken at the same time. It’s confusing and your anxiety is just making you more sick. “Fuck.” You huff to yourself, hearing your phone ding in the living room. It’s probably Dave and you don’t want to talk to him right now.

Dave watches you, a frown on his face at the way you scramble for the phone. It’s not him calling you. He hovers in the hallway and sees a piece of paper on the side. Curious, he picks it up. His nostrils flare when he reads the word ‘pregnant’ and he hisses under his breath, shaking his head. He sets it down on the side and strides into the living room where you are on the phone.

“Yes, thank you.” You bite your lip, emotions crowding your voice and you try not to cry. “Two o’clock. And should I expect any cramping after? Or just the bleeding?” You listen and when Dave steps into the living room, you jump and gasp. “Yes? No, uh, sorry, my- my cat scared me. Okay. Okay, thank you.” You quickly end the call and get up from the couch nervously. “Dave. Um, I didn’t expect you.” You bite your lip, knowing you look like shit. “What are you doing here?”

He stares at you, eyes narrowed as he takes in the gaunt look on your face, the ragged sweats, your greasy hair. You look sick. He crosses his arms as he looms over you, "were you ever going to tell me?" He demands to know.

You shiver at the dark look in his eyes. He knows. You could lie, deny it, but it would be an insult. He’s a fucking DIA agent and an assassin on top of that. He’s not stupid. Your shoulders round and curl in on your frame. “No.” You admit quietly. “Never.”

“And you were gonna get rid of it?” He asks, his tone flat, face indifferent so you can’t see the emotions rolling inside of him. He can’t believe it. You’re pregnant and you weren’t going to tell him.

You choke out a huff and gesture helplessly. “What else am I supposed to do?” You ask rhetorically. “I can’t have this pregnancy.” You’ve tried very hard not to think of it as a baby. Under different circumstances you would have been thrilled to be pregnant, but this isn’t the case. “Don’t worry, it’ll be done tomorrow and you will never have to think about it again.”

Dave growls, “you were gonna kill my baby and not even fucking tell me?” He strides over to you, grabbing your throat to push you against the sofa, his fingers wrapped around your neck. “I have a fucking right to say what I want.”

For the first time, you are truly scared of Dave. Choking out a cry and grabbing his hand, hoping he doesn’t try to hurt you. “I- no.” You shake your head. “It’s my- you’re married!” You don’t understand why he would be mad, he should be relieved. “I’m just the woman you fuck!”

“You’re not getting rid of it. You’re keeping the baby.” He commands, his fingers still wrapped around your throat and you whimper, “but you’re married. I can’t - we can’t -” He tuts, “I’ll look after you. I promise. I can’t be with you but I’ll make sure you and the baby are looked after.” He promises and you sob, “I can’t do that.” 

Dave scoffs, “you’re going to do it otherwise I’ll kill you.” Your eyes widen at his threat, “I’d rather you kill me. It’s better than being in love with you and not being able to have you.” You spit at him, and he chuckles darkly, “you're a silly little girl if you don't think that I fucking worship the ground you walk on. I'd move in tonight if I could, but l have my girls and I can't abandon them. Can't leave them with their useless cunt of a mother. You're fucking blind if you can't see that I love you too. That you have me.”

You’re so conflicted, tears streaming down your cheeks. “I don’t understand, I thought- I thought you would be mad I was pregnant.” You confess, sobbing harder. “You- you want me to have the baby?” You ask, sure that he would have wanted the complete opposite. “You love me?”

Dave scoffs, letting go of your throat to caress your cheek, "do you really think I don't love you? You silly girl." He shakes his head, "of course I do. When have I ever said something I don't mean?"

You almost flinch but end up leaning into his touch. Sighing softly because it’s true, Dave never says something he doesn’t mean. At least not to you. There’s never been a need to lie when you know all his dirty secrets. “You don’t.” You admit quietly.

“Exactly.” He caresses your cheek again, his dark eyes burning into you. “I won’t lie to you.” He promises, sliding his hand down and he shifts to kneel beside the sofa. His eyes watching you as he shifts to hook his fingers in your leggings, watching you as he pulls them down. “Wanna taste you.” He murmurs, pulling the restrictive material off of you and flinging it across the room before he yanks your panties off. It doesn’t take long for him to dive in, sliding his tongue through your folds.

“Dave!” You cry out, unable to believe that he is eating you out again. You had expected him to lecture you, to yell at you. You whimper, so sensitive since you hadn’t been able to have sex the past few weeks. You hadn’t even masturbated because you had been so sick.

Dave laps at you, sucking your clit into his mouth and his hands push your thighs further apart. You taste different but he likes it. You are sweeter. He growls into your flesh, his hands sliding to your ass, lifting your hips so he can push his tongue inside of you.

“Dave, baby.” You whimper, closing your eyes and your fingers slide down to curl into his hair. You wouldn’t normally do that, but you also had never expected to find out Dave loves you. It shifts the dynamic slightly. “Baby- I love you so much.”

Dave groans into your flesh, not pulling back to say he loves you too. He’s already confessed his feelings and he’s not one to give gushing soliloquies of love. He knows you know how he feels. His tongue pushes deeper and his nose presses against your clit. His hand slides up to your belly, resting there to feel where his child is, to feel your beauty.

His hand on your stomach brings tears to your eyes, finding it soft and sweet. His tongue pushes inside you as he caresses your stomach. It’s sweet and dirty, your nerves sensitive and he doesn’t stop until you are gasping out, close to cumming.

He wants you to cum for him, his tongue sliding up to your clit, lapping at it and your moan makes his cock throb in his pants. You are fucking perfect. Untarnished despite his filthy touch on your flesh, you are an angel. He is the devil that crawled from hell to touch you. He shouldn't be allowed to be near you, his touch ruins everything yet you remain so innocent. He laps at your clit, his free hand shifting until he is pushing two fingers inside of you.

“Oh fuck, Dave.” You whimper his name, his thick fingers giving you the fullness you crave. You want his cock inside you, but you don’t know if you could handle the harsh pace he fucks you at right now. “So good. You’re so good, baby. Fuck, I love those fingers inside me.”

He pumps his fingers, groaning at the way you clench around them. Your pussy is wet, soaking his digits, and he hisses at the way you moan his name again. You’re so good to him. He sucks your clit back into his mouth, wanting you to cum for him.

It doesn’t take long to work you up. Your body has been neglected, from his work schedule and your lack of interest, although when he touches you it sets you on fire. “Dave!” You cry out, lurching up and catching sight of him right before the stars burst behind your eyes and you shake apart on the couch for him.

Dave groans when you clamp down on his fingers, making him moan your name around your clit as you writhe under his touch. He doesn’t do this often but he felt like he needed to do it because you’re carrying his child.

The last time Dave ate you out, it was actually the night that you made your child. You had tracked it back to that weekend that Dave had spent the entire weekend in bed with you. It was a good time. “Dave, baby.” You whimper, starting to feel like it’s too much, but you don’t push his head away.

Dave withdraws his fingers when you start to whine and he shifts to hover over your body. His lips glistening as he watches you with dark eyes. He doesn’t press his body down on yours but he leans in to softly kiss you. He doesn’t kiss you unless it’s to bite you but right now, he wants to be soft.

The kiss takes you by surprise but you lean into it. Wondering why he is being so soft with you right now. Is it because of the pregnancy? Your fingers are still in his hair and they unfurl to slide down to his shoulders. “Do you want to fuck me?” You ask when he pulls back.

Dave shakes his head, “no. Not tonight. You need to sleep. Have you eaten?” Dave asks and you bite your lip, knowing you’ve struggled to keep anything down. “I’ll make you an omelet. Carol could barely keep anything down except eggs when she was pregnant with Alice.” He shifts off of you, grabbing your panties for you to put back on, and he reaches down to adjust his hard cock after he stands.

You stare at him for a moment, shocked that he is denying himself. He's never denied himself unless there was a meeting he needed to be in. And that was only if he was needed in person and couldn’t video call. You slide your panties on when he disappears into the kitchen.

**** 

Carol hums as she watches the floors pass by on the screen. The Tupperware in her hands as she rides to her husband’s office. She hasn’t seen a lot of him lately. He’s been working late nearly every night and she wants to catch up with her husband. She’s missed him. The elevator dings and she steps out, making her way down the hall to Dave’s office. She steps into your desk area, knocking on the door, and your eyes widen when you see her. “Mrs - Mrs York, how are you? Was Dave - was Mr. York expecting you?” You fumble to look at your computer and Carol’a eyes trail down your body to the bump you’re sporting. 

“Are you - are you pregnant or did you get fatter?” She asks bluntly, her lack of concern for your feelings is obvious at the indifferent look on your face.

“I-“ you can’t believe that she just asked that, feeling your cheeks heat up and you hate that you can’t call her a bitch, but that would just cause issues for Dave. “I’m nearly seven months along. Twenty-seven weeks, thanks.” You offer her a tight smile and your hand slides along the bump that houses Dave’s child. 

Dave walks out of his office, hearing you talk to someone and he’s become slightly protective as you have gotten further along in your pregnancy, coming home with you every night before going to his home. He says he wants to make sure you are safe, but he often cooks to make sure you eat since you are still getting sick. “Carol? What are you doing here?” He asks with a frown.

"I brought you lunch since we haven't been spending that much time together." She holds up the tupperware in her hands. Dave stifles the deep sigh that nearly escapes his lips. "Yeah, uh, it's been busy here, hasn't it?" He asks you and you nod in confirmation. 

Carol hums, looking back at you, "seven months? Wow. I didn't even know you had a boyfriend. Dave always says you're painfully single." She smirks slightly, "congratulations to you and your...do you have a boyfriend?" She asks, wondering if he left you when you said you were pregnant. She's never liked you. You're too pretty and even if she was mollified because you're fat, she doesn't like the idea of you being outside Dave's office day in and day out.

It takes extreme discipline not to look over at Dave, but you just shrug slightly. “No.” You tell her without expanding on the question at all. Let her stew. It’s not like she doesn’t have reason to hate you, you are sleeping with her husband and pregnant by him, but she doesn’t know that. She’s just always been a bitch to you. She doesn’t have mythical intuition or some gut feeling. She made snide comments before the relationship between you and Dave went anywhere beyond professional. “Well, I will take my lunch now, since yours is sorted for you.”

Dave nods, watching you go, and he can't say anything to tell you he's sorry for the behavior of his bitch of a wife. He sighs as you stand up and his eyes drop down to your belly, full and round with his child. He swallows harshly and steps back to open his office door, "come on then, darling." He tries to keep the bite out of the nickname.

Carol looks back at you and gives a small smile. “Hopefully you are eating healthy, and not for three.” She lifts a brow. “You don’t need to put on too much more weight.” You don’t say anything, just turning and opening the bottom drawer to pull out your purse.

Dave wants to step between you and his wife but he can't. He tuts as Carol steps into his office and he shuts the door behind her a little too forcefully. "Why the fuck would you speak to her like that?" He growls, "she hasn't done anything to you." 

Carol scoffs as she sets the Tupperware down. "Just taking up too much room. Poor baby. Gonna come out with diabetes." Carol scoffs and Dave snorts, "you had gestational diabetes with Molly." He reminds her but she sits down opposite his desk and shrugs, "well, I lost the weight." 

Dave rolls his eyes before he sits down, "be nice to her. She works hard."

“I don’t want to talk about her.” Carol waves towards the office door, satisfied that she can hear the elevator ding as it opens and you leave. “I’ve missed you, lately.” She pouts. “The girls have missed you.” She knows that whatever might be going on, and she knows something is going on, Dave loves the girls.

“I’ve been busy with work. Paperwork…reports…meetings.” He lists off and watches Carol open the Tupperware. Her cooking is decent, not as good as yours. “I miss the girls.” He says, tapping his fingers on the desk. “I miss you, baby.” She coos, fluttering her eyelashes and Dave bites his lip, wondering how to handle this. He hasn’t slept with Carol since he found out you are pregnant. “I have a meeting soon.” He declares, “can’t be too long for lunch.”

“You’ve been working too hard.” She huffs. “We need to take a weekend away. Maybe go up to the cabin?” She smiles and winks at him. “The girls always sleep like the dead up there so you and I can have some alone time after they go to bed.”

He knows he can’t say no. She’d get suspicious. So he nods, “sure. We can do that.” Carol frowns at his lack of enthusiasm. “Let’s eat.” He says, gesturing to the food she brought, “I don’t have a lot of time.” He reminds her and she huffs, handing him the lunch she brought him.

The food is good, but Dave is wondering where you went to eat. What you are eating. He’s been making sure you’ve been eating well, for the baby and for your easily upset stomach. Carol talks to him about the girls, something that he enjoys and he can’t help but wonder what they would think about having a sibling. Holding the baby when they come. You hadn’t wanted to find out the sex of the baby, wanting it to be a surprise.

Dave kisses Carol goodbye just as you walk into the office, your eyes averting the couple, and Dave smiles at Carol. “See you at home.” He says and she smirks, “don’t be late.” The lunch you just ate swirls in your stomach and you rush to sit down just as Carol leaves. “You doing okay?” Dave asks after she’s gone, “what did you have to eat?”

“I’m fine.” You brush away his concern, upset from Carol’s visit and you know that you have no right to be. You’re not his wife, she is. “I had a chicken wrap.”

Dave tuts, “is that all? That’s not enough, sweetheart.” He says, walking over to you. “How’s the baby? You blocked out your appointment for next week in my calendar?” He asks, leaning over you with concern in his eyes.

You’ve learned not to argue with him about food, he gets snappy when he thinks you are trying to lose weight while carrying his child. “You don’t have to come.” You protest again, even knowing it won’t do any good. He’s been there for all the appointments since he found out. “But yes, to answer your question. I did.”

“Good.” He hums, glancing back towards the open door, he takes a chance to lean down and kiss you softly. “Carol is a bitch. Don’t let her upset you. You’re fucking gorgeous.” He promises and steps back just as Justin from a few doors down walks by. Dave steps back into his office, knowing the days are ticking down and he has to make a plan. He can’t have this double life anymore

Dave doesn’t follow you home tonight. He tracks your phone, you know that, but he still insists that you text him the moment you get inside your house. You don’t even mention that he will know when you get home because he installed a camera system that alerts him to anyone showing up at the doors. As you’ve gotten further along, he’s gotten more protective. If you didn’t cling to the words he had told you months ago, you would think he’s paranoid about you doing something to get rid of the baby. Not that you could now. You love the little bean growing inside you and are looking forward to holding them. You wave to the camera when you unlock your front door, knowing that Dave will see it.

****

Carol cuts the engine to her car, just parked down the street from your house, and she gets out. She had to look up where you live and to her surprise, your home is registered under a corporation. The same one she knows her husband has his name to. She is curious about that. She makes her way to the front door, ringing the doorbell and waiting for you to answer.

Surprised that someone is ringing the doorbell, you wonder if it’s a package. Dave has been buying baby things online and sending them to the house. Your new maternity lounge clothes are comfortable and cute, highlighting your baby bump, so you don’t feel the need to change before you open the door. “Mrs. York!” Your eyes widen in surprise and you look behind her to see if Dave is with her. Why is she here? “May I help you?”

Carol pushes into the house, uncaring of your condition as she bumps into you. “I just wanted to see the place for myself. I mean…if my husband is the one paying for it, I should see what it’s like, right?” She scoffs, turning to face you.

Dread curls in your stomach, but you manage not to react. That’s what she’s here for, a reaction. “I don’t know what you mean.” You move towards your phone, even though the cameras are picking up everything in the house. “I’d like you to leave.”

Carol offers you a cocky smirk, “I don’t think so. Especially not when you’re carrying my husband’s baby. Have you always been a fat whore or did you just become that for my husband?” She asks, the grin still on her face. “Or are you just a gold digging cunt? Offering my husband a wet pussy to get a meal ticket? Too late honey, I already secured that bag.”

You swallow slightly, unable to figure out what she is planning. “I’m not-“ you shake your head. “I don’t know what you are talking about.” You repeat and put your hand protectively over your stomach. “I just want to live with my baby, alone.” You don’t want her to think that you are trying to take Dave away. You know where you’ve stood from the beginning.

Carol scoffs, “alone? As if. I see the way you look at my husband. All heart eyes. Waiting for the moment he decides to give you some attention. You can’t get a lot of it so you decided to move in on another woman’s husband. Pathetic.” She spits, “and got knocked up. Probably on purpose. I don’t know why Dave fucked you when he has me. Probably sympathy.”

“I admire your husband.” You clarify. “He’s not fucking me.” It’s a lie, but you can’t let her know that Dave is having an affair with you. “My baby is from a previous relationship. I work for your husband.” You pick up your phone and point towards the door. “Please leave, I won’t mention this to him.”

Carol doesn’t believe you. She saw the way Dave looked at you when she went to his office. She’s suspicious about why he has been so late coming home. She narrows her eyes and doesn’t realize that Dave is watching on the cameras, cursing his wife for going to the house. He grabs his keys and gets in his car, making his way over to your place with his phone still displaying the cameras. “You are a liar as well as a slut. Trying to steal my husband from me.” She hisses, tears stinging in her eyes.

“Honestly? I just want to have my baby and live my life.” You tell her quietly. “I’m sorry if you don’t believe me, but I’ve never tried to come between you and your husband.” You’ve never asked Dave for anything, not even now. You know that he’s not leaving his wife for you, even if he loves you. Even if you’re having his child. “Go home to your husband, Carol. This isn’t what you think it is.”

Carol doesn’t know what possesses her as she surges forward, a feral cry escapes her lips as she reaches out to wrap her hands around your neck just as the front door opens and Dave rushes in. “Carol! What the fuck?” He growls, reaching for her waist to drag her away from you.

You push her away as Dave drags her off of you, gasping for air and shaking as you realize this woman just attacked you. “You bitch! I’m gonna kill you! You and that fucking bastard in your fat stomach!” Carol screams as she tries to get away from her husband to launch herself at you again

Dave restrains her easily, pulling her back against him and saying her name. “Calm the fuck down!” He shouts at her as she struggles in his arms, “you fucker. You got her pregnant. I can’t - why- why would you do this?” Carol chokes, slumping back against him.

“I’m telling you, it’s not his baby!” You shout, not caring if Dave likes it or not. “He helped me get away from an abusive boyfriend.” You lie. “Putting me in this house so he couldn’t find me.” You know Dave doesn’t want to leave his family and you will protect him if you can.

Dave shakes his head, spinning Carol in his arms. “It’s my baby. I’ve been sleeping with her for months. It’s my house. I pay for her livelihood. Because - because I love her.” He confesses and Carol’s jaw drops. “You- you love her?” She chokes and Dave nods. His wife knows he doesn’t say that stuff casually. “I don’t - why?” Carol asks and Dave tuts, “you know why, Carol. You and the trainer. Like I don’t know. You’ve been cheating on me for years. I let it slide because of the girls, but I don’t love you. You don’t love me. I didn’t want to leave the girls.” He admits, “let’s be real here, you felt a change.”

“Dave…” you bite your lip, not wanting to get in the middle of their confessions but you didn’t want him to do that. You had been willing to let her believe it wasn’t Dave’s baby. Why would he ruin that? Your hand slides down to the baby bump, feeling them kick against your hand.

Carol’s lower lip quivers. She knows she can’t contain her husband. Never has been able to. He could make her disappear if he wanted to. “I- I didn’t - I did what I thought was best for the girls. I love Caleb. I didn’t - I’m sorry.” She chokes, tears stinging in her eyes. 

“Then let’s not drag this out any longer. It’s over, Carol.” He declares and she nods, knowing she can’t stay married to him when you’re having his baby. It’s over.

You press your lips together, watching her pull away from him and look towards you. “Guess you get what you want after all.” She scoffs, but it’s not nearly as hateful as it once had been. 

“I had no intention of taking him away from you and the girls.” You promise quietly, although it doesn’t matter now.

“Go home, Carol. The girls are with Sally next door. Go home and I’ll talk to you later so we can get the ball rolling for our divorce.” Dave declares and Carol nods, defeated. “Okay.” She looks back at you, “just don’t - don’t let this be for nothing.” She pleads, knowing her husband never truly loved her. Only married her because she got pregnant.

You swallow and nod, not saying anything right now. It would almost be disrespectful. You watch as she turns and quietly walks to the door, exiting much softer than she had ever entered. You can’t help but just stare at the door as it clicks closed and you exhale slowly.

Dave sighs, hands on his hips as he turns towards you. He stares at you for a moment before he steps closer, his hands reaching for you. “Are you okay? She didn’t hurt you?” He asks, eyebrows raised in concern

“No.” You shake your head and let him pull you close. “She didn’t hurt me. Dave- why didn’t you let me pretend it wasn’t your baby?” You ask. “The girls….you didn’t want to leave them.”

Dave sighs, resting his head on yours, “I didn’t have a choice. I can’t keep pretending like I don’t want to be here with you every night in your bed. I couldn’t lie. We made this baby.” His hand slides down to your belly, “I couldn’t lie about that. I love you. Carol and I- it was over a long time ago.”

You sigh and cover his hand with yours. “I didn’t want to come between you and your family.” You repeat softly, wanting him to understand that. “But I wanted you in bed beside me too. I love you.”

He kisses you softly, breathing you in. "I gotta go deal with Carol later but I promise you, after I deal with her, I am here to stay." Dave vows, "I wanted to give you something." He murmurs, reaching into his pocket after letting go of you. He pulls out a small velvet box. "Dave." You gasp, "what is that?" He opens it to display a beautiful ring. "It's a promise. I can't give you everything right now, but I promise you I will. When I can."

You lean in and kiss him, amazed that the once hard and rough man who fucked you ruthlessly is promising you the world. You have no doubt that he will still fuck you until you are weak once you’ve recovered from the baby, but for now, he is tender and more importantly, he loves you. “I’m yours, baby.” You whisper against his lips. “Forever.”

****

"Alice! Slow down!" Dave calls out to his daughter as she rushes past him chasing Molly. His son is in his arms, a whimper escaping the baby's lips and Dave smiles, cooing to the little boy. "Baby, you ready to go?" Dave asks, knowing you are nervous to leave the kids alone but Carol is taking the girls for the weekend and the baby is going to your mom's for the evening so Dave can take you out for dinner.

“Just a second!” You know that Dave is eager to leave, but you take another second to readjust your dress. It’s the red one that you had worn before you got pregnant. Maybe a little tighter than before, but you wanted to look good for him. Biting your lips before you apply the same shade lipstick. It’s just dinner, but it’s the first time you’ve gone out since having the baby. Since Dave’s officially moved in and the divorce has been final. It was amazing how quickly they got things settled and now, he lives with you and your son. Blotting your lips with a sliver of toilet paper, you rush out of the bathroom and out into the living room. “Okay, I’m ready.”

Dave's eyes widen at the sight of you. "You look fucking amazing." He says quietly as he walks over to you, not saying it too loud for the girls. "I can't wait to take it off of you later." He murmurs, his dark eyes trailing over your figure and he leans in to kiss you, mindful of the baby between you. Your mom knew about you being pregnant but you kept it secret that it was Dave's until the divorce was final. Your mom wasn't pleased about you sleeping with a married man but her distaste of him is outweighed by her love for her grandson. "Girls, we gotta get in the car. Grab your backpacks!" Dave calls out before he turns back to you, "his diaper bag is ready and he's been fed."

“You are amazing.” Dave has been the best kind of hands on father. He’s done diaper changes, sleepless nights, midnight feedings, all without a single breath or complaint. He was born to be a father, you are utterly convinced of that. Kissing his lips lightly, you giggle and reach up to wipe the smudge of red off. “Want me to put him in his car seat?” You ask.

Dave nods, "you take him. I'll get the girls." He winks and strides off to wrangle his daughters. "Come on ladies, gotta go. Your mom is waiting for you." He orders and they grab their backpacks and head into the garage. Dave straps them into their booster seats and blows a raspberry on Alice's cheek, making her giggle. He checks the baby seat and turns to look at you as you carry his son into the garage.

“He’s about ready to fall asleep.” You smile as you hand him the car seat to latch into the base. Watching as Dave carefully locks him into the SUV he insisted you be upgraded to, saying that it was only fair when it would be the car you used when having the girls. You hadn’t argued, but thought him getting a Mercedes was a little much.

Dave opens the door for you, closing it after you're settled, and he rounds the car to get in. He starts the engine and looks in the mirror at his children. With a smile, he sets off to drop the kids off. Carol is cool but cordial as the girls arrive at her house and it doesn't take long to drive to your mom's house to drop off the baby. "I know you hate leaving him but he will be fine." Dave reaches for your hand, squeezing it.

“I know.” You are so very grateful that Dave has been so understanding about your first time mother’s nerves. “Mom loves him to pieces and it will be good to have a meal where I’m not covered in formula or spit up.” You laugh. “I love him so much.”

Dave chuckles, "they grow up so fast. Enjoy the spit up...believe it or not, you'll miss it." He promises and you snort, "we will see." Dave waits in the car while you drop the baby off, watching your mom glare at him slightly but her face softens when she sees the baby and that's all that matters to him. When you get back in the car, he begins the journey to the restaurant he booked. "He didn't even blink when I left." You huff playfully and Dave chuckles, "that's not a bad thing." He squeezes your hand again and when he pulls up outside of the restaurant, he gets out and rounds the car, opening the door for you before the valet can.

You smile as Dave helps you out of the car, finding it amazing for your self esteem for him to so proudly claim you as his. He doesn’t mind that people know in the office, he holds you close in stores. He’s not ashamed of your size. “Thank you, baby.” You coo softly, giving him a flirty smile. You have been cleared for sex again, although you and Dave haven’t yet. You hope that’s why he wanted to bring you out to dinner.

He thanks the valet and escorts you inside, giving his name for the reservation and soon enough, you're seated at the table. He orders a bottle of champagne and your eyebrows raise, "well, you stopped breastfeeding so figured you could celebrate with something nice." He says, "and tonight is about us."

“It is?” You pick up your water and take a sip as you wait on the champagne. “What do you have in mind for us?” You know that Dave has been happy, at least you think he is. He’s been smiling and the girls actually enjoy coming over. They are obsessed with their little brother, and you couldn’t be happier about that.

The champagne is poured, you order your food, and Dave has a soft smile on his face as he watches you. "You look gorgeous tonight, baby." He murmurs, reaching for your hand.

“I’m just happy I fit into the dress.” You admit with a small shrug. Carol’s words had hurt, just like anytime someone had degraded you because of your weight, but Dave told you that you are beautiful so many times, you might actually believe it. “You do make big babies.”

Dave chuckles, "maybe the next one won’t be big." He hasn't made it a secret that he wants another baby with you. He loves seeing you pregnant. You smirk, "give me a chance to recover, baby." He nods, knowing it won't be too soon. "We got time, sweetheart." He promises and shifts to get out of his chair. "That's why I brought you here tonight. I wanted to ask you something." He kneels down, a small box in his hand. "You are incredible. A kind, gorgeous woman that somehow loves me. You are the most incredible mother, partner, and I want to spend the rest of my life loving you and protecting our family. Will you marry me?" He asks, opening the box.

You swallow, looking from the ring to his eyes. “Dave….” You whisper, not really expecting him to propose, even though he had promised you the world. “Of course I will marry you.” You agree quickly, starting to cry from happiness.

He grins, surging forward to press his lips to yours. You respond eagerly and diners around you applaud while Dave pulls back to get the ring, sliding it onto your finger. He kisses the back of your hand before he kisses you again, "I love you."

“I love you too.” You promise, unable to believe that you are engaged to marry this man. He’s got a dark side, of course he does, but he’s also sweet and generous and loving. “The ring is beautiful.”

Dave is happy that you love the ring. He kisses you once more before you sit back down. The waiter comes over with dessert and a “congratulations" and Dave can't stop smiling as you dig into the dessert with him.

It’s probably a normal thing to be hyper aware of the ring on your finger. You catch a glance of it every time you take a sip of champagne. “God, this is perfect.” You moan as you take another bite of the chocolatey dessert. “Orgasmic.”

He smirks, “took the word right out of my mouth.” He watches you admire the ring, and he is glad you love it. You finish the dessert and he pays the bill, eagerly to get you home. You look delicious in that dress. He loves it. He can’t wait to get you out of it. “I am gonna go to the bathroom before we leave.” You declare, eager to get Dave home too and he nods as you get up to go to the bathroom. The waiter congratulates him again and Dave thanks him, standing up after a few moments. You’re washing your hands when the door opens and Dave clicks the lock. “Dave?” You gasp and he steps over to stand behind you. “Sweetheart.” He murmurs, kissing your neck.

You can’t help but tilt your head to the side so he can do whatever he wants. Just because you haven’t been able to have sex hasn’t meant you didn’t want to. There have been a couple of times you’ve blown him since the baby has been born. He’s rubbed your clit until you’ve cum, but the sexual touches have been limited. You know what his intentions are. His lips are curved into a smirk as he kisses your skin and his already hard cock is pressed against your ass. “Dave.” You whimper, reaching back to squeeze his hard length and your cunt clenches when he twitches in your hand. “We shouldn’t.” You protest mildly, knowing you will let him do whatever he wants to you, just like he always has. 

“We should.” He declares, kissing along your neck while his hands reach down to squeeze your tits through your dress. “We can’t be long. I’m gonna fuck you here and then spend all night eating that gorgeous pussy out.” He promises, “my fiancée. Gonna make you feel good.” He vows, his hands sliding lower so he can drag your dress up your hips. “Tell me no.” He pleads, kissing your shoulder, wanting you to be comfortable. Such a difference from the man who took what he wanted from you before.

Your answer is to push your ass back against his cock, grinding it against him to hear him moan quietly. You know that he’s been eager to touch you, and you honestly want him too. His sparkly new ring on your finger, it’s the perfect way to cap off the night. “Fuck me, baby.”

Dave groans, shoving your dress up higher and his fingers hook into your panties, dragging them down your thighs. You got an IUD placed after having the baby so he knows it's safe to cum inside of you again. Your panties drop to your ankles and he steps back so he can unbuckle his belt and pull his throbbing cock out.

You watch in the mirror, groaning when you see him pump his cock. Your desire hasn’t diminished, at all, only heightening as he sleeps beside you every night. “Fuck.” You whimper, knowing the pinch of him filling you again will be amazing. “Hurry baby, we don’t want to be caught.”

Dave groans as he slides the head of his cock through your folds, loving how wet you are. He pushes into you slowly, not wanting to hurt you, and he rests his head on your shoulder, trying to keep it slow since you’re still recovering.

It’s a lot, you’re panting from the way that he fills you. Your fingers curl around the sink edge and you moan quietly. “Fuck, baby. You’re so thick inside me.” You praise him softly. “Missed this so much.”

He groans when your walls flutter around his cock. His hands slide up to cup your tits, squeezing them through your dress and your bra. "Shit. You feel - you're my little slut again. Aren't you? All mine. Only mine." He growls softly into your neck, biting down a little on the skin as the wave of possession surges through him.

You moan quietly, nodding your head quickly. “Only yours.” You promise, panting as you clench down around him again. “Your slut. Only yours, baby.”

He loves hearing it. Knowing it’s his baby, his ring on your finger. His cock inside of you. He groans your name and pushes into you, a little harder, “fuck. You feel so good. I’ve missed those.”

You whimper quietly, having felt the same. You’ve missed the physicality of being joined with him. He manages to smooth your insecurities and your doubts with his lusty, rough manner. Though he’s being more gentle than he was even the last time you had sex before the baby was born. “Love you.” You gasp, pushing your hips back. “Use me.”

He grunts, knowing that you wouldn’t say it unless you meant it. He grabs your waist, pushing into you again and again, your hips and belly hitting the counter. “Fuck. Feel so good, baby. Don’t have much time. What do you need?” He growls, his hand sliding up to squeeze your tit.

“Choke me.” You beg quietly. He wouldn’t put his hand on your throat while you were pregnant, not even once. You’ve missed when he controls your breathing and your cunt quivers around him at the mere idea.

He nods, sliding his hand higher until he’s gripping your throat. “That’s it baby.” He groans when he feels you clench around him. He loves it. He loves how filthy you are. He thrusts into you a little harder, pushing deep.

You gasp out a little sound before you bite your lip, knowing you have to keep quiet. Holding onto the sink while your fiancé squeezes your neck and starts fucking into you at a quick pace.

He clenches his jaw, squeezing your neck a little tighter. He wants you to cum. He wants you to fall apart around him so he can watch you in the mirror. Cock twitching inside of you, he is close himself and he wants you to cum first.

It’s been so long, the flex of his hand around your neck makes you come apart. Cry catching in your throat, you make a strangled sound as you soak his cock, shaking as he rocks into you.

He groans at the way you clamp down on his cock, soaking him, and he hisses through his teeth when you grip him in a vice. He struggles to continue fucking into you, his grip loosening around your neck but his jaw clenches as he pushes into you a half dozen times until he thrusts deep and pulses as he cums inside of you, painting your walls.

You shiver in delight, enjoying the heat from his cum filling you. “Fuck, Dave.” You whisper quietly, closing your eyes and leaning back against his broad frame.

He turns your head to kiss you, caressing your cheek, and he starts to soften inside you. “Too good. Missed this.” He murmurs, caressing your side. “Shall we go home?” He asks, slowly pulling out of you and reaching for the napkins.

“Yes.” You turn around and wrap your arms around his neck. “Pick up the baby, put him to bed and then I want to suck my fiancé’s cock.”

Dave groans, loving how eager you are. He leans in to kiss you, his hands finding your ass and he only pulls back because the door rattles. “Come on baby, let’s go get our boy and go home. After we are married, we will work on the next baby.” He smirks, smacking your ass after he pulls your panties up. He might be a killer but he’s found the woman who knows him, all of him, and he won’t let you go. He’d kill to protect what is his. No matter what it takes. You’re the woman he needs. 

[pedgito]

𝐅𝐄𝐀𝐑 & 𝐃𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 | Dave York x reader

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summary | Dave's one last contract to tie up before the holidays proves to be more difficult than he expected.

author's note | my adventures in trying to write pwp have failed me again. i made this gifset and here we are. so you get whatever this crazy is. thank you to my womb sister @chaotic-mystery for beta'ing.

content warning | 18+ MDNI, divorced!dave, suburban murder daddy but make it festive, is this a holiday fic?, uhh..there's some bodily fluid usage in here for purposes, knife kink if ya squint, choking, restraints, blood tw, rough unprotected piv, fingering, oral (m &f receiving), one (1) pussy slap, pain kink off the charts, manipulation is the best form of flattery, omitting some tags for spoilers.

word count — 5.4k

Coffee and a chocolate croissant was not how he started a contract.

It was a strict five-step order. Observe, plan, attack, dispose, collect.

Never more, never less. He got in and dirtied his hands, washed away the evidence, and sent the proof to his employer, an unsteady but well-paying job. He was killing people after all.

High profile clients, exes, criminals, he stopped separating them after a while.

But goddammit, you’d charmed him. 

Bewitched him. Body and soul.

Well, that and you caught him at a bad time.

The original plan was to grab his morning coffee and follow your path to work, find an opportunity and take care of business, leave. However, he’s thrown off when you’re already in line at the shop he picks, one out of the million lining the city streets.

It was you and him, a silent standoff amongst the low jingle of christmas music.

The cheery chorus of the Jingle Bell Rock drowning out his thoughts as he lines up behind you, hearing your coffee and breakfast order before the following words slip out, his ears perking:

“This is for mine—and his,” You nod blindly over your shoulder, “and pocket the rest as a tip.”

It was a fifty, his brow furrowing at the action as he begins to speak but is quickly interrupted by your name being called as your coffee was slid over the counter and you flee toward the cup, leaving he and the cashier in silence, who seemed more than delighted at the idea of extra money for the holidays.

He orders quietly, his voice subdued as he insists on paying for his own food, ignorant to your side gaze as you roll your eyes in annoyance and wait as he approaches with more silence, slipping his coffee into a cardboard sleeve as you grab for plastic silverware. 

“Well, happy holidays to you,” You remark with a snide tone, laced and tied in a bow of kindness, “you’re a sweets guy?” Dave looks down at his croissant then, realizing they had handed him the wrong pastry, cursing under his breath.

He seemed frazzled, disrupted, but was masking it with annoyance and frustration.

“Fifty is a little generous, don’t you think?”

“It was a kind gesture,” You continue, “—Christmas around the corner and all.”

Dave sips gingerly at the coffee to taste, praying that it was the one thing they did get right, staring down at the chocolate croissant with disdain, but hunger on the rise.

He’s expecting you to leave already, having a rough idea of your schedule as you would normally head to work within the next—Dave glances at his watch casually—half hour, but instead, you sit.

Fuck—he casually busies himself as he pulls his phone from his pocket, scrolling mindlessly as the coffee shop fills and empties, eventually admitting something similar to defeat as he heads toward the door.

A man of constant routine and you’ve gone and fucked up his day, sitting casually as you picked at your own pastry, giving him a full once over, head to toe, as he heads toward the door—a suit that told a thousand words, and a man with nowhere to go, watching him carefully in the corner as he flitted through this phone.

Either he was being a creep or he was just shy.

And, for your sake, you hoped it was the latter.

“Sit with me,” You insist, his mouth opening immediately in rejection, but you smile and tilt your head to the side, pushing the opposite seat out with your heeled shoe, “hey—don’t act like you have anywhere to go, I just watched you stare at your phone for fifteen minutes.”

Your eyes land expectantly on the seat as Dave deliberates, eventually relenting as he sits. You were his task for the day, he didn’t have anywhere to go where you weren’t.

He doesn’t like this, he doesn’t like this feeling. 

Things had derailed, but somehow, this seemed like it could help him, in the end.

You start with your name, introducing yourself. He offers the same, just a first name. Not a last. In your mind, you shrug. You could work with a first name.

“Well, Dave—are you going to eat that chocolate croissant?” You ask, watching the untouched pastry sit unwanted on the table, “Because if not, I will gladly—”

He pushes it aside, leaning back in his chair as he looks out the window, watching the troves of people pass on their way to work, kids running alongside their parents as they walk to school—a brief glimpse of what could still be, had Carol not been so greedy in the divorce.

He got the girls on weekends, every other week. It wasn’t ideal, but it was all he had. If he wanted to count, he had five more days until he saw their faces again. Often, it was the only thing holding him together. That, and routine.

Your voice disrupts his thoughts again, his eyes ripping up to your smiling face as you pull at the croissant and take a bite, “Holiday’s are fickle, aren’t they?”

Dave raises his brow in question. The fuck does that mean?

“Fickle—you know—”

“I know what that word means,” Dave interrupts, “What are you trying to say?”

Always on edge, this guy. You laugh softly, rubbing your tongue along your bottom lip.

“Some years it feels festive—like real Christmas, you know?” It was redundant, your finger circling the lid of your cup, “Other times it feels like something most people can’t wait to get it over with—like they’d rather be dead than celebrating.”

“That’s dark,” Dave remarks, “considering you were just attempting to spread some holiday cheer by paying for my breakfast–”

“Which you refused, scrooge,” Your eyebrow cocks in challenge, “Where do you work?”

Invasive? Definitely. But, with the suit—it seemed like a plausible question.

Dave lies through his teeth, despite his freeland work as a contract killer.

His job consisted of a name on a piece of paper and a promised dollar amount in his bank account after—no good or bad, it didn’t matter. 

People were unlucky and unfortunate, he chose not to be.

If he was going to do the killing, he was damn well going to be compensated for it. 

He didn’t know who wanted you dead, or why—but you’re grating, unjarring approachableness was throwing a wrench in his plans. If he wasn’t so careful he’d slide the knife through your throat here at the table, just to end this conversation.

You nod your head at his excuse for work, moving beyond a topic he clearly didn’t want to talk about, “Go on, your turn—or have you already read me like a book?”

Fine, he’ll bite. Though, he already knows what you’re going to say. He returns the question about work, mouthing the response in his head like a speech.

“I’m a librarian, a little further in the city, but I like the coffee here.”

The last part was a lie—you frequented one place nearly every day, why you decided to switch up today was unbeknownst to Dave, hence why he was sitting here engaging in such a grating, unproductive conversation. 

You know you’re keeping him, he does too. 

It slowly turns into a stare down, eating away at the croissant he’d passed over, waiting for him to admit defeat and run off, eventually, he does.

“As riveting as this conversation was,” Dave comments, “I’ve got work—it was nice…talking to you.”

The hesitance makes you smirk, subdued behind another kind smile as he leaves, watching his cautious walk back to his car, only a measured amount of time before he would see you again.

–

It has never taken this long. A week, maybe two. But, even that was pushing it. 

His employer had contacted him twice for updates, more on edge as time passed and he can’t seem to avoid you, even as he tracks you from a distance, unaware of his looming presence, you seem to find him in the unlikeliest of places.

Next, it was a gas station—you don’t approach him there, but you offer that same kind smile.

Then, the grocery store, conversing with him over fruits like he was an old friend and Dave is only unsettled by the conversation after you leave, not realizing how easily you had vexed him until he’s got a handful of fruit in his cart alongside his weekly groceries. 

It happens again. And once more. He liked difficult meals—intricate ingredients that were far beyond your skill level. The conversation was always a careful dance of politeness, but Dave softened with every conversation, as much as he could, at least.

You could spot a jaded man from miles away.

He doesn't understand why he can’t just kill you outright—easily detach from the situation and move on, but there was something to you that he couldn’t put his finger on. It was almost alluring, and it made him wonder. It made him curious.

Dave was never curious—he wasn’t paid to be.

He’s resigned to following through that Friday, though. The weekend before Christmas.

Fortunately, you seem to have the same late night craving for takeout—a quaint Chinese takeout place down the block from your apartment. 

It had to be a coincidence, right? 

“I swear,” You jest through a laugh as you stuff your hands into pockets of your puffer coat, “it feels like you’re stalking me.”

“Could say the same,” Dave retorts, a toothpick tucked between his teeth as he waits for his food.

You both wait quietly, exchanging the occasional glance before the tension snaps, curiosity getting the better of you and your enjoyment of making Dave squirm.

“Do you live far?” A careful, precise question. Dave answers it vaguely.

“A ways,” He says nonchalantly, “why?”

“Are you busy tonight?” Other than his obvious task of ordering dinner that he was undoubtedly going to eat in his car as he staked out your apartment, finding the willpower to finish the job.

“A little,” Always so concise, you roll your eyes lightheartedly.

“Come have dinner at my place,” You tell him, an open-invitation, an opportunity served up perfectly, eyeing the incoming weather outside with a high chance of a white Christmas, “—wait out the storm a bit?”

You weren’t pushing. It only took a little coaxing.

“Come on,” You tease, “are you scared of me?”

It’s a striking dichotomy he thinks, knowing he murders for a living.

There’s a ding at the front register as the owner slides over two bags of food tucked away in plastic and styrofoam, calling out the order numbers simultaneously as you both reach for them.

“I don’t bite,” You shrug, “—not really.” 

You flash a triumphant smile as Dave admits defeat.

–

He said he’d meet you there.

You half-expected him to ditch you, but now he was sitting adjacent to you on the couch, chewing methodically at a piece of broccoli alongside the slow murmur of the television, under your curious gaze.

It’s ridiculous, a job that should have taken him a week—a few days, even—had prolonged itself to a month. The constant and vivid imaginative ways he would kill you plague him even now, wondering if strangling you against the couch would be enough to suffice. 

No, that felt too personal.

He’d come back, he’d wait. He would do it while you were sleeping. Quiet, quick.

You strip off a layer of clothing as the heat from your apartment creeped up your neck, a generous amount of skin on display as you slung your sweater over the back of the couch, breasts pressing together as you place your takeout on the cushion separating you and Dave.

“You don’t do this often, do you?” You ask around a bite, stabbing your fork into your food.

Dave couldn’t make sense of your siren-like qualities, the intensity in your eyes with every glance his way, the ease at which you can seduce him into conversation. You were youthful, full of life, and for once in his career he’s found himself hesitating. Asking questions. 

Why you?

“You ask a lot of questions,” Dave notes, a softer tone to his voice, almost as if he was finally warming up to you. There was a constant air of skepticism around you, rightfully so, but he seems to have let it slip, a misjudgment, “don’t you?”

You giggle softly at your impending question, “Are you a whiskey guy? You seem like a whiskey guy.” You’re off the couch quickly, heading toward your open kitchen to fetch an unopened bottle of whiskey from the cabinet, grabbing two glasses on the way back.

“I’ll be honest,” You start lightly, a melodic tone to your voice as you place the glasses on the table and pour a generous amount into both—normally Dave would excuse the offer, but with the bottle sealed and no reason to think otherwise, he drinks, “you make me nervous.”

Dave offers a quiet chortle of disbelief, your vixen-esque qualities supplying the opposite effect.

“I mean, the coincidence of us meeting at the coffee shop,” You begin, “and, sure, I did think that it was strange how often we’ve run into each other, but it almost feels like—”

“Don’t tell me you believe in fate,” Dave interjects, sipping at the rim of the glass.

“Well, how else do you explain that?” You ask, tucking your feet underneath you as you mirror his actions, food set aside. Dave finds himself watching the way your jeans hug your thighs and sit snug against your curves, following the path up your chest and the low cut top that pressed them together, caught red-handed as his eyes draw to yours.

“Sorry,” He quickly excuses, brow furrowing as he turns away in subtle embarrassment, burying his face into the glass of whiskey, “I’m—fate isn’t real. It’s just a coincidence, probably.”

Probably. Surely.

There’s a soft glint of suspicion in your eye, slowly maneuvering forward as Dave’s fist clenches against his slacks—always in a ridiculous fucking suit that you were now determined to get him out of. You’d kill for it, actually. 

“Are you married?” You ask, resting your hand into your open palm as you prop it against the back of the couch, “That—that seems invasive…you don’t have to answer that. I just, if you are—she won’t be mad that you’re here, will she?”

Dave squints, not realizing he’s down the entire glass of whiskey until his next sip comes up empty. He sets the glass aside and answers truthfully, a breakthrough, you think.

“Divorced.”

“Ah,” You sigh, “such a tragedy.”

He wasn’t willing to dig into the details of his tumultuous relationship, regardless of how long it has been, nor was he oblivious to your actions, the finite movements that have pulled you closer and in turn, has centered his body toward you in a subconscious effort to make room.

He didn't often have female hits, but they weren’t non-existent. Dave was a man of constant self-control and restraint, aware of your growing proximity and the fact that his Smith and Wesson was tucked away carefully in the back of his coat, hidden from plain sight but all it would take is a touch—or the switchblade tucked away in his sock, easily concealable and unsuspecting.

He has two avenues—kill you now, deal with the mess. 

Or, he allows it. 

It—your obvious advancements, the slow but salacious blink of your eyes as his eyes drag toward your lips.

Your fingers wrap around the knot of his tie, pulling it gently, loosening it. His neck stretches to the side as your fingers claw up and around, dipping beyond his shirt collar in silence, despite the intense eye contact you held.

It was almost like you were challenging him. He feels it.

You get bold, rising on your knees as the other hand slips between the fabric of his coat and cream button-up and Dave counteracts the movement with a sudden adjustment, pulling the coat off smoothly and slipping it over the back of the couch as you climb into his lap, an evident smirk on your face as you press your ass against his thighs, your cunt pressed against the seam of his zipper and his cock, feeling the solid press of him there—men were all the same.

Dave’s body betrays him, his head tilting back as your fingers move through his hair and back down his freshly shaven face, pointer finger tracing the curve of his lips, a persistent and hardened expression on his face, void of emotion.

“If I asked you to fuck me, would you?” He feels the tug at his tie, your lips millimeters from his own as you stare down at him, “You like to fuck, don’t you?”

A hard distinction. Screw it, he thinks. Detachment, it was easier that way. 

Dave nods, under your spell and the faint courage of whiskey. 

–

He’s never allowed himself this deep into a job,

Undressing himself over you as you scramble naked onto the bed beneath him, ignoring how this wasn’t just a step, but a leap—a fucking mile over the boundaries he’s set within himself, but then you’re rising to lick up the underside of his cock where it glistened with precum, dripping down the side as it bops against your tongue, his hand wrapping into your hair as a warning. 

Your eyes flutter shot as you nod, under his full control as you allow him to fuck himself into your mouth, his knees buckling as he knelt on the bed. His other hand comes up to curve against your chin, cradling your head as he nudged himself against the back of your throat until you were sputtering, drool leaking from your mouth as he pulled away for a brief moment.

Hesitation, you see it.

“Stay with me,” You plead, the words slurred against the shaft of his cock as you wrap your hand around the rest of him that wouldn’t fit, “don’t—don’t think. It doesn’t mean anything.”

Meaningless, more so than he can even imagine. A means to an end.

You could go about this differently—you didn’t always jump toward sex. 

But, Dave was attractive. Unfairly attractive, strong features that left an impression on you and a flutter between your legs—he was hard to break down, but it wasn’t impossible.

Besides, you were breaking your own rules too. 

And you were sure he'd bruised your throat by now, eyes tearing up as he held you there, nose brushing against his groin as he watched you—a mix of astonishment and resentment, laughing airly as he yanks you away.

“It feels good,” You assure him with a teary-eyed smile, “doesn’t it?”

You kiss along his upper thighs, leaning down to mouth against his balls, rolling the tight skin against your tongue, greedy for more as your fingers claw up his thighs, chest, until they’re wrapping around his broad shoulders and pulling him down and over you, the wide expanse of his palms squeezing at your hips, soft skin melding underneath his fingertips.

He buries his face into your chest, licking at your skin to taste, a mix of salt and sweet and something so intoxicating that he finds himself following through with this.

“Turn around,” He demands, “get on your knees.”

You turn swiftly, his hands following the path of your spine as his hand curls around the back of your skull and presses you firmly into the mattress, twisting his fingers around your bicep and pulling your arms behind your back, crossing, reaching for his discarded tie at his feet.

You panic at the inclination of being immobilized, but his voice is unsettling soothing.

“I thought you wanted me to fuck you,” Dave counters, “practically fucking begged for it.”

He huffs out a noise of displeasement, sliping the fabric around your wrist and tying it in place, hearing you snicker against the fabric as you peer up at him from your side glance.

“You can do better than that–,” You begin, but the tug is rough, gasping as it pulls your arms straight and tight against your back, “that’s—fuck—”

Your panic is quickly soothed by pleasure, his hands gripping your ass as he pushes it up, level with his mouth as he licks between your folds, admiring the slick that drips down the seam of your pussy, rubbing his thumb down to your clit as he circles it teasingly before pressing a finger inside of you, your gasp swallowed up by the sheets. 

“Barely fuckin’ know me and you’re begging for it like that?” Dave teases, “C’mon, sweetheart.”

Pulling his fingers back to admire the creamy white ribbon that connected your body to his, rubbing his slick covered fingers over your pussy once more with a deafening slap.

“Tell me to stop and I’ll stop,” Dave informs, “but I’m going to fuck you like you asked, alright?”

He didn’t have to be nice, or considerate, even. 

Besides, that pain swiftly drifted into gratification as he pushes the head of his cock between your folds before he’s pressing inside of you, a growl radiating from his chest as he sets a brutal pace, his thighs slapping against your skin loudly, fingers digging into your ass and destined to leave marks, cries of helpless delectation into your sheets.

And you could feel it, how badly he needed this too.

Eyes drifted close, the rhythmic pump of his hips, despite their intensity, is almost lulling. It never happened this way, a brief moment of disconnection as you allow your body to feel. It was never this good. Half-assed fucks from lackluster men who undoubtedly deserve what was coming for them—and it didn’t always happen like this, often it only took a sip of alcohol or an entrancing look their way, so easily entrapped in your web.

Dave, however, was a different beast entirely. 

His movements stop after a while, face contorted in a mix of staves of desire and curiousness, pinching up at the spot above his nose and between his brows.

“Don’t—don’t stop,” You tell him, subtly adjusting your shoulders against the discomfort, but he doesn’t move, still staring over your shoulder, “Are you fucking d—”

“Beg for it,” He interjects.

You snort out a soft laugh and shake your head, but then he’s swiftly pulling out and wrapping his hand around the knot at your wrist and pulling you upright, leaving you completely in his hold as your back falls against his chest, dangling over the edge of the bed as he stood behind you, his opposite hand wrapping around your throat and pushing up, tilting your head upright to look at him.

You see the brief moment of hesitation in his gaze, thinking he could wrap his hands around your throat and do away with you now, but his lips part and his thumb presses against the side of your jaw, pulling a gasp from your throat, “Beg,” He seethes.

Then the pressure comes, a gentle squeeze that forces air out of your throat, stuttering out a quiet, “P-Pl—please,” His hand shakes against the pressure as your eyes roll back, “fuck—fuck me, please.”

He fists his cock and slides back inside of you with one fluid movement, helpless to his grip as keeps teetering on the edge of consciousness, his breathing increasingly more distressed as his hips begin to stutter in rhythm behind you.

He was getting off on the idea of your life in his hands like this—Dave could do it like this, even you know that. A man who craved power, this was no different.

You moan weakly against the hand on your throat, face contorting in a petulant way that catches his gaze as your eyes peek open, bottom lip quivering as his grip on the tie at your wrist pulls, a spark of pain shooting up your spine.

“H—hurts,” You admit to him, though it wasn’t anything you couldn’t handle, he seemed to have a soft spot in that deranged brain of his, for you, “s’tight, hurts so bad.”

Dave breathes harshly through his nose, debating, examining the sincerity on your features for a while, eyes fluttering closed as your mouth opens in a faint cry, before he finally relents.

You fall forward at the release, arms stretching over your head as you fall, the ache in your shoulders dissipating at the relief as you roll onto your back, his face slack as he follows your movements, cock sitting proudly against his stomach as you reach for his hand, a delicate pull as he follows your guide, a sated smile on your face.

“Like this,” Your voice is soothing, dragging a hand down his chest until you can wrap your hand around his cock, wordlessly he spreads himself above you as you guide the head of his cock through your arousal before he’s inside of you again, entranced as you examine his features.

He fucks you with the same intensity, but this is more personal. Your hands curl around his where they’re pressed into the mattress, legs interlocked over his hips as you breath into his mouth, exchanging a cacophony of noises and meaningless expletives before he’s pulling out without warning, large palm pressed against your thigh to keep your legs spread as he fists his cock, wrapped tight as he came against you stomach in thick spurts, the warmth pooling against your skin as his lips parted in a newfound relaxation.

You drag your finger through the fluid, swirling it against your fingertip as he watches your movement with careful eyes, pressing your finger against his chest as you dot once, twice, a small arch to create the illusion of a smiling face before you’re crossing through it lazily.

“You forgot about me,” You pout, dragging our finger up to his chin as he tilts it upwards before you’re pinching it between your grip, “what about me?”

He hadn’t, but you weren’t allowing him the leeway to argue.

Dave willingly allows the force of your movements, slowly dragging up his face and into his hair as he buries his mouth against your cunt, his tongue swirling against your clit with a careful precious as he stares you down, countered by your own gaze, propping yourself off the bed on your palm.

He licks into you, tongue dipping inside your stretched hole tasting of something sweet and entirely you, mixed with himself, an intoxicating flavor as his hands wrap around your thighs, nose burying against your sensitive clit as he growls, a reverberation that has you shaking under his grip before he’s tilting his head up to suck at bundle of nerves, nearly arching off the bed at the sensation as your orgasm hits you all at once, rather than a rolling wave.

His gaze doesn’t falter once, even as you fall slack against the bed.

He should do it now—guard down, defenses non-existent, but then you’re pulling him up and against your chest, maneuvering in a delicate dance until he’s cuddling you from behind, without a word of acknowledgment.

Eventually your breathing settles, wordless and calm. And despite the nagging voice in the back of his head, he finds himself succumbing to exhaustion too. 

–

When he wakes, you’re still asleep. 

The sun had set, casting the room in a faded blue, the blanket of snow outside casting a faint glow—he still had time, finish the job while you were sleeping, admit his colossal fuck-up and move on. He moves slowly, careful as he leans off the edge of the bed to grab for his knife buried away in his shoe.

“Where the fuck is it?” He mumbles to himself, nearly scrambling off the bed as he considers going for his gun, but the knife pressed into his throat has him on high alert, turning as the blade slices into his neck—just a knick, but he counters the movement, attempting to pin you underneath him.

“You’re awake,” You announce with a grin, face contorting in frustration until you can fit the knife at his ribs, fighting his grip until he’s settled underneath you, arms pinned under your knees, “so—no contingency plan? That’s a rookie move, even for you.”

“Who gave you my name?” Dave, blunt as always—he cuts right through the bullshit.

You frown slightly, hoping he’d play along for a moment.

“C’mon, Dave,” You jest, his breath catching as you apply pressure to the junction where you held the knife, one sudden movement and it would pierce his lung, “who do you think?”

“Who?” He bites, realizing his helplessness in the situation.

“The same person who gave you mine,” You answer after a long pause, tapping your finger against the center of his chest, “but—listen, I don’t have to kill you. I don’t.”

“That’s not how this works, sweetheart,” Dave informs, not lost on you.

You make a sound of discontent, shrugging your shoulders. 

“I have a proposition for you,” You chirp, “Well—more like an ultimatum. Because, if you don’t agree…I’ll just kill you right now, let you drown in your own blood as your lung collapses.”

Dave scowls, listening to you continue, “Can I trust you if I let you go?”

“No,” Dave answers quickly, whatever spell you’ve cast over him is now broken, the illusion gone, “Just do it, actually.”

It feels like a test—and you would, but you can’t.

He voices the same.

“You need me, don’t you?” He asks, genuinely curious. 

Contingency plans, they were tricky.

“I hoped the sex would be enough to convince you.”

Dave smirks at that, surprisingly. 

“You could have killed me already, but you haven’t,” You remind him, “I gave you plenty of chances and you didn’t—why?”

“The timing wasn’t–”

“You’re lying,” He feels the sting of an open wound as you slice the tip of the knife over his skin like a papercut, “Be honest with me—please?”

There’s an unnatural twitch to your head as it tilts, “Please?”

“I don’t know,” Dave answers with a sigh, “Guess I didn’t see you as much of a threat, that I could take my time.”

You raise your eyebrows as you breathe out a laugh, “I’m going to let you up,” You inform him, but slide the knife to his neck, “—under one condition.”

“I could just—”

“I have your gun,” You admit, “Emptied it—and there’s nothing in this apartment you can harm me with. It’s not even mine. And you can try to take this from me, or even kill me with your bare hands, but I think you’ve gone a little rusty, in my opinion.”

Dave offers a look of confusion.

“I really do admire your work, you know. All of us, in the network. We’ve heard about you—no one..no one knows who you are but, I just…had a feeling. Your work is clean, precise. You’re methodical.”

“And you’re fucking crazy,” He retorts, twisting his wrist in discomfort as you clamber off of him, knife outheld as he rises with you, “this method’ll get you killed, if that’s your style.”

“M’not dead, yet,” You shrug, “Besides, I don’t make a habit of…that.”

The sex, he knows that’s what you mean. He can’t say he does either.

“Somebody wants both of us dead,” You remind him, “doesn’t that concern you?”

You turn the knife in your grip and offer it to him, handle first. 

“You’re a better tracker than me, I need that. And I’m a terrible fucking shot.”

Dave grins slightly at the compliment as he reaches for underwear, feeling unnaturally vulnerable as you stood toe to toe with him, rising up with a newfound curiosity. 

“Open your mouth,” He directs, a glint of intrigue in his eyes, “stick your tongue out.”

Without a thought, you do. He grabs your chin, squeezing your jaw until your lips parted and your tongue slipped out, dragging the blade along the center of your tongue and leaving the thick, crimson liquid to bubble to the surface as he dragged it along the surface. You giggled softly to yourself as you lunge forward, teasing him with a lick that barely graces the surface of his lips.

He grips your neck, squeezing tightly.

“Obedience,” He warns, “If you want me to help you, I need it.”

You relent, swallowing against his grip as you nod.

“Let me hear it,” He grits through his teeth.

“Ye—yes,” You oblige, full-certainty, “Obedience, got it.”

He has a terrible feeling about it, but in an eerily comforting way, he trusted you.

[joelscruff]

forget my charms (dave york x f!reader) 18+

a/n finally watched equalizer 2 and he's been living in my mind rent free! i don't really know what this is tbh, it was kind of a challenge to myself to try and write a drabble because i'm notoriously bad at keeping fics short & sweet. so i'm not sure how i feel about the lack of real story here but we go anyway! enjoy & please be sure to read the warnings! summary: your new boss gives you a memorable first day. rating: 18+ explicit warnings: fingering, lap sitting, power imbalance, infidelity, unprotected p in v (doggy), creampie, finger sucking, dirty talk, praise kink, tie used as a gag word count: 1.5k

You only met him this morning. It had been brief, his office just one stop of many on your guided tour the first day of your new job. Your co-worker had tapped lightly on his door, opened it a crack and told him he should come meet the new hire. Your stomach had turned when you'd heard him sigh deeply on the other side - you were already feeling out of place, more than a little like a fish out of water, and the concept of disrupting the boss on the first day wasn't appealing in the slightest.

But he'd been gracious. He'd come to the door and opened it wider, stood beneath the arch with an appraising little smile on his lips as he looked at you. It had been memorable, the way he'd taken your hand in his large palm and squeezed, peering at you with something attentive in his eyes, almost... intrigued. Welcome, he'd told you, it's lovely to meet you.

And now, only hours later, his fingers are in your pussy.

Pumping slow and deep, rhythmic and filthy as you lounge in his lap with your legs wide and your head resting languidly against the heat of his neck. He's got your skirt pulled up, one big hand spread firm over your trembling belly while he fucks you with his middle and index. The flickering blue of his computer monitor is your only source of light, showering his office in a dim glow.

You whimper and his fingers still, lodged deep inside your heat. He hushes you softly, strokes your tummy with his thumb and leans back slightly in his chair.

"Shh, sweetheart," he murmurs, voice low and husky, "Don't want the night crew to know what we're doing in here, now do we?"

No, you certainly don't. Can't even imagine what the reaction would be were anyone from the office to know you're being fingered by the boss on your first day. You bite down on your lip and lean back into his lap, look down with hooded eyes as he slowly resumes the slow plunge of his fingers. They're so thick, coated in a clear gloss of your release that glows blue in the light. He places his thumb on your clit, applies pressure, and you let out another pathetic whimper.

"Ohh, poor thing," he admonishes gently, "You want something in your mouth to help you stay quiet?" his hand comes up to brush against your face, "Hm? You need something to suck on?"

Your brain feels empty but you nod anyway, eyelashes fluttering as he wastes no time in slipping the middle and index of his left hand past the wetness of your lips. You suck immediately, closing your eyes and feeling them roll behind your lids as he fucks two of your holes at once, just taking, using.

Is this why I'm here, you can't help but think to yourself, did I only get this job so he could play with me like some kind of doll?

You can't quite believe you're even in this situation. You'd stayed late in order to make a good impression, still had some things you needed to figure out at your desk anyway. Everyone else had slowly trickled out of the office, until you'd realized all that remained was you and Mr. York. He'd smiled at you through the open blinds of his office, leaning back in his chair with his legs wide and his arms stretched behind his head. He'd brought one down when your eyes had met, crooked his finger as if to say, Come here for a minute.

You'd gotten up from your desk and entered his office, anxiety building in the pit of your stomach. You'd hoped you weren't about to be reprimanded for something you thought would impress him.

But he didn't reprimand you. He didn't mention the fact that you were staying late, didn't ask about how the job was treating you, if there was anything you needed, no. Instead, he'd looked you up and down again with that assessing, calculative stare and murmured, "Can you come sit in my lap for a little while, sweetheart?"

You suppose you could've said no. Probably should have, actually. That would have been the most logical thing to do - slam the door and quit your job, maybe even sue for harassment. Anyone else probably would have. But you'd taken one look at his crotch, seen the noticeably thick shape that bulged against his thigh, and realized he'd been sitting there watching you for who knows how long. He'd gotten that hard just from looking, assessing.

Fuck it.

"There you go," he breathes softly now, peering at you with dark and imploring eyes as he fucks your mouth and pussy, "That's a good girl, honey, I know," his brow furrows when you whine around his fingers, "I know, baby. You're doing so good."

He rocks you in his lap like you belong there, and it's impossible not to feel the way his clothed cock throbs against your ass. You want to see it so badly, want to touch it, taste it - but he doesn't give you the opportunity. Instead, he circles his thumb against your clit until you're shaking in his arms, hands gripping anything you can reach - the chair, your knee, his wrist. Your orgasm rolls through you and his fingers muffle the sound of your whines, your gasps, until your bones feel like jelly and your heart has slowed. He stills his movements again and lazily pulls all four fingers out of you, watches you breathe deeply and fall back against him with goosebumps rising on your skin.

"Get up now, baby. Bend over the desk for me," he tells you in that low voice, "Show me your pussy."

You pull yourself out of his lap on extremely shaky legs but obey his orders, inching forward a little to position yourself against his desk. You can feel his eyes on you as you reach back and pull yourself apart for him, show him where his fingers have invaded and explored, opened you up and made you drool.

"Juicy little thing," you hear him murmur, and then his belt buckle is jangling and you know what comes next. Legs still trembling, you keep holding yourself open and push yourself further down onto the desk, skirt pulled high and panties still hanging off one of your ankles.

He's filling you up in no time at all, cock plunged deep to the hilt and so much bigger than you'd anticipated. His tip kisses a spot inside of you that you're not sure anyone's ever been able to reach, and against your own volition you moan, low and long, full of pleasure and desperation.

You hear him tsk somewhere above you, "You really can't stay quiet can you?" He says it softly but it's full of condescension, like it's starting to genuinely bother him. Before you can apologize he's reaching down for something, still bottomed out completely inside of you as his arms and hands seem to do something out of sight. A few seconds later his blue polka dotted tie appears in front of your face, and then he's carefully settling the soft material between your lips, pulling back and tying it meticulously behind your head. A makeshift gag.

"Gotta learn to be quiet when I fuck you, okay?" he breathes, raspy and dark as he slowly pulls his cock from your pussy, only to feed it back to you again just as slow, "You don't want us to get in trouble, do you?"

No, sir, you want to whisper, but you can't. All you can do is nod slightly and grip the desk when he starts to fuck you in earnest, thrusting deep and hard before pulling out and doing it all over again. Your thighs quiver and shake against the cool wood, and as you lay there and let him take, you spot something out of the corner of your eye.

A framed picture of a family - his family.

You avert your eyes, turning your head slightly to see where his left hand is gripping your shoulder as he fucks you - you spot the wedding ring immediately. Christ.

But you don't stop it. You don't push him away, you don't leave. Even though you probably should. Even though the logical part of your brain is screaming at you that what's happening really shouldn't be, especially now that you know he's a married man.

You just let him use you. You let him fuck and fill you until he's gripping your hair in his fist and his cock is spasming and pulsing inside of you. You let him release his entire load inside your pussy, bare and messy. And then you let him pull you into his chair, tug the tie from your mouth and situate you back in his lap, still impaled on his cock.

Neither of you speak for a solid minute. He catches his breath while you try not to look at the photograph, to forget its existence entirely.

"The last one quit the first day," you hear him mumble, voice edged with tiredness, "But you won't, will you?" He thrusts shallowly inside of you, holds you against his chest as his cum starts to leak out and dribble down the hefty shape of his balls. "You'll let me do this, huh?"

What the fuck have you gotten yourself into?

[punkshort]

Back to You

Pairing: Dave York x f!reader

Summary: The stars never aligned for you and Dave growing up. You never thought you'd see him again once he went to college and joined the C.I.A., but one fateful day brings him back into your life - or more specifically, your husband's life.

Warnings: language, violence, smut (18+ MDNI), unprotected piv sex, oral (f!receiving), multiple orgasms, heavy on the possessive behavior, jealousy, infidelity, a glimmer of dark!dave but in a obsessive, madly in love kind of way, graphic domestic abuse

WC: 10.8K

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

Pain seared across your eyes, over the bridge of your nose and thrummed steadily against the top of your skull. The door was locked and you heard his car peel out of the driveway, but you laid curled up on the bathroom floor, body trembling in fear, still anticipating the sound of his heavy footsteps to clamber back up the stairs.

How the hell did you let it get to that point? How did you allow this to happen?

You had a bad habit of falling back into old memories whenever Mike hit you. You always wondered where you went wrong and what you could have done differently. Now? It felt like there was no escape. Even if you ran away, where would you go? He could find you anywhere. He told you that, once. And if he were just some run of the mill, blue-collar drunk, you wouldn't have believed him.

It was maybe ten years ago when he accidentally left the door to his office in the basement unlocked. You were doing laundry and saw the door was cracked, so you poked your head inside. He had told you before that it was nothing special, that it was just a quiet place for him to focus on work. He said he locked the door because the equipment on loan from his office was expensive and he couldn't risk anything happening to it. But what you saw was... not the type of equipment a man in finance would need.

Weapons were perched on the walls, sparkling clean and ready for use. You couldn't count how many computer monitors were mounted on the back wall, how many hidden cameras were placed around your home. But what drew your attention the most were the monitors that displayed a view from another house. Or, houses, as you would come to learn later.

His desk had high-tech looking equipment, tactical gear, files on men in a foreign language. Ten different cell phones were stashed away in a drawer along with countless fake passports and a whole duffel bag filled with a mix of foreign currency.

Mike was not the man he claimed to be.

And when he caught you snooping in his office, that was the first night he hurt you. Really hurt you.

You met him when you were a teenager, taken by the fact that he was a couple years older and seemingly wiser. Youth and naivety kept you from seeing who he really was. He was rough and possessive, but you thought you liked it. Before you knew it, he had proposed to you and almost fifteen years later, you were stuck in not only a loveless marriage, but a violent marriage.

And you had no way out. No means of escape.

When you finally stopped shaking, you stood to gather some ice for your face, pressing it tenderly against the bruises when the same inevitable thought crossed your mind:

Dave never would have done this.

Dave York. The boy who grew up next door to you. Who you went to school with all through high school. The boy you had a painful crush on for as long as you could remember, but who only saw you as just a good friend. Someone to hang out with over the summer. Someone to tag along with to the movies when he was bored. Someone to ride bikes with all over the neighborhood. Someone who gave you your first kiss after he convinced you to sneak out in the middle of the night but then made you swear not to tell anyone.

You had convinced yourself the kiss had meant nothing to him. Why would it, if he made you promise not to say anything? It broke your heart, but the idea of losing Dave as a friend hurt more, so you kept your mouth shut and pretended it never happened.

And you were okay with it. For a while. When you were eighteen, you met Mike, and for the first time, you had feelings for someone else other than Dave.

You were so excited to introduce them. Your closest friend meeting your first real boyfriend. But, of course, they clashed the moment they were introduced. Like two animals who sniffed each other out, they knew the other was bad news and from then on, things changed.

Mike asked that you didn't see Dave as much. It felt like being torn in two, but Dave was already applying to colleges out of state anyway, and it didn't take long until he was accepted.

Against Mike's wishes, you went to Dave's going away party. Alone. It was that day when Dave pulled you aside and confessed his feelings for you. Told you he was in love with you and begged you to come with him. Said that you had so much potential that you would just be wasting if you stayed home, with Mike. That he could take care of you.

And foolishly, you turned him down. At the time, you had convinced yourself what you had with Mike was real. He didn't try to hide you the way Dave did. He proudly had you on his arm from day one.

So, you made the biggest mistake of your life. You said no. Accused him of being jealous and ran home to Mike.

When Mike found out where you had been, he grabbed you by the throat and pushed you up against the wall. Spit obscenities in your face and told you never to lie to him again.

The next morning, he apologized. Said he had been drinking, that it would never happen again. You believed him, and he didn't do anything for another year. After that, the aggression slowly built up. It started with the verbal abuse, the accusations, and the lies. Then he grew more physical.

There wasn't one particular day when it all changed, it was a slow progression, but stumbling across his private office was certainly a bad day. The physical abuse was always linked with something big. Something big and terrible that you felt you did wrong. Over the years, that changed, too.

And now, present day, anything could set him off.

That particular evening, you had burnt the chicken for dinner, so he backhanded you across the jaw before grabbing you by the back of the neck and slamming your face into the refrigerator.

No, Dave York certainly would never have treated you that way. Your life could have been completely different had you not turned him down.

Little did you know, you would find out exactly how different soon enough.

You stared blankly at your computer, one eye still swollen but hidden pretty damn well under a thick layer of your best concealer. Thank god it was a slow day. Even if you didn't get much sleep the night before, allowing yourself to rest by pretending to work was enough to make you feel a little better.

The double espresso in your latte didn't hurt, either.

You had managed to become an expert at faking being busy at work. Zoning out was your speciality. So much so that you hardly heard the front doors of the bank swing open and shut, and only faintly heard the quiet tap of dress shoes on the tile making their way towards your general direction.

"Excuse me?"

Your body jumped at his voice, startling you out of your daydream. With your heart hammering in your chest, you narrowed your eyes at your computer, hoping to convey the look of someone deep in the middle of a very serious work issue.

"Sorry. Have a seat, I'll be right with you," you said without looking up. If you gave up your fake task too quickly, it would prove you weren't really working, so you opened up a few random files and pretended to jot down some notes, some random numbers and names, before clearing your throat and finally giving the man across from you your full attention.

Your jaw dropped. Heart plummeted to your stomach. Body rigid with shock.

It was him. It was Dave York. After fifteen years and never laying eyes on him, you could still pick him out of lineup. Those deep, brown eyes. Thick, slightly wavy hair. Chiseled jaw and angular nose. He was unmistakable.

"H-hi," you stammered, feeling your face warm instantly at your weak greeting. He just cocked his head at you, confused. Then you grew even more uncomfortable when it became clear he didn't recognize you.

You pointed meekly to your name tag, his eyes following your finger and watching as his face slowly filled with recognition.

What you had hoped would be a warm welcome turned out to only be a tight lipped smile and nod.

"Oh. Didn't realize it was you."

You waved him off and briefly looked back at your screen, unable to stand the embarrassment.

"How have you been, Dave?" you asked, pulling your focus away from your computer and back onto him. "Are you home visiting your family? Oh... it's your father's birthday next week, right?"

Something shifted behind his eyes. Something softer. Like he was taken aback but trying to hide it. Your suspicion was correct when he stumbled over his next words, the confidence and cool demeanor he strolled in with temporarily gone.

"How - you remember that?"

You nodded. "Of course, I do. How could I forget?"

The day Dave's father passed away, it was raining. Not just raining, but down pouring. Streets were flooding and everyone stayed huddled in their homes, safe and dry.

But not you.

When you heard the news, you had rushed to the abandoned tree house by the train tracks two blocks from your home. It was a safe place for you both. Whenever your parents were fighting, Dave would find you there. And when Dave's father got sick, you would find him there, too. You had scrambled up the wooden ladder, sheets of rain pelting your face, cascading down your shoulders and soaking through your thin raincoat. But when you hurried into the treehouse and found him, huddled and shaking in the corner with tears streaking down his cheeks, you forgot all about your discomfort. You rushed to him, pulled him into your arms and let him cry against your chest for an hour without saying a single word. The only noise was the distant rumble of thunder and the steady sound of harsh raindrops pelting the wooden roof.

You were both sixteen at the time.

Dave blinked and cleared his throat, shaking off the sudden warmth that filled his chest.

"No. I'm here on business."

He pulled out his badge from his suit coat and your eyebrows raised in surprise.

"C.I.A?" you said, "Wow. I mean, I thought I had heard something-"

"Need you to look up a couple accounts for me."

You clamped your mouth shut, trying to hide your dejection by looking across the lobby floor, but his icy tone and steely demeanor stung. You couldn't blame him, really, given how things ended the last time you saw each other, but you had held out hope that he had forgiven you at some point in the past fifteen years.

Seemed as though you were wrong.

"Y-yeah, sure. That - I can do that," you said, straightening up in your chair, determined to keep things purely professional, same as him. "What are the names and socials?"

He didn't even pull out a file or notepad, he had them memorized so he could keep his eyes locked on your face, studying you, watching for any glimmer of recognition or surprise when he told you the names.

"James Victor Turner."

You typed away on your keyboard, completely unphased by the name, much to his relief. He rattled off the social security number and waited a moment until you found the right person.

"Do you want me to email the account detail or something? That's usually what the feds have us do," you asked, turning back to him. He let your words hang in the air for a moment, searching your eyes for any sign of deceit. Finally, he nodded and slid his card across your desk.

"Email's on there."

Your gaze jumped from his face to the card, noting immediately his cell number was listed, as well, and suddenly the thought of having his cell phone number filled you with a deep sort of comfort you couldn't explain.

He gave you three other names, and every time he waited for a shift in your brow, a flinch in your cheek, or for your breath to quicken in alarm, but every time you remained completely indifferent and calm. He had learned how to read body and facial tells in the academy. He was very fucking good at it.

These names meant nothing to you.

Thank fuck.

"Is that all?" you asked when you emailed the last file. You thought you hid your hopefulness from your voice, that maybe he would say no, let's get a drink, let's catch up. But instead, he nodded and muttered his thanks. Then leaned to the side to slide his wallet back into his pants.

"You taking care of yourself?" he asked casually as he went to stand. "Husband treating you right?"

Now that got a reaction. Your brows tilted slightly, your gaze shifted away and you swallowed nervously. It was then he felt his blood run cold in his veins.

He was very fucking good at reading body language.

"Yeah," was all you said, then pretended to read something in your email. Dave stalled, heart beginning to thunder in his chest when he noticed. How did he miss it before?

"What happened to your eye?"

Your lips briefly pressed into a thin line before you forced a fake smile.

"I was cleaning over the weekend and something fell from the top shelf of my bathroom. Some luck, huh?"

Your tone was practiced. Disarming. He saw right through it.

"What fell?"

"Huh?" you asked.

"What fell from the shelf?" he repeated, watching as you tried to hide the panic behind your eyes. You were used to people not questioning your rehearsed excuses.

"Um, it - I think it was toothpaste."

"Toothpaste caused a shiner like that?" he pushed. He had places to be. He had to report back in less than ten minutes with his findings. But he couldn't seem to give a shit.

"It was still in the box. The corner caught me just right," you replied smoothly, pleased with your quick thinking. Dave slowly nodded, deciding to drop it and not make your day even worse.

Besides, he knew all he needed to know, anyway.

His hands fidgeted at his sides. His gaze slid around the lobby while he tried to think of something else to say. You watched him curiously.

"My number's on the card-"

"I know," you replied, cutting him off. He met your eye and you gave him a small smile. He bit the inside of his cheek and nodded tightly.

"Don't be afraid to use it."

And before you could react, he was halfway across the lobby. When he disappeared through the doors, you looked back down at his business card. Your finger traced the blue numbers indented into the card stock, the small rectangle somehow acting like a talisman. Settling your nerves, calming you.

Dave York came back to you.

An entire week went by and your thoughts rarely drifted from Dave. Every time the doors opened at work, your head snapped up, hoping to see him again. When you laid in bed at night, your husband sometimes there, sometimes not, you would lay awake staring at the ceiling, thinking of him. Wondering what he was doing, where he was staying.

If he was thinking of you, too.

Friday was your anniversary. Mike had promised to be on his best behavior after feeding you apologies for his bad mood lately. It was always the same, you knew he wasn't actually sorry for what he said and did, but you smiled and forgave him all the same.

He had gotten a reservation at a French restaurant, and even though he knew French cuisine wasn't your favorite, you still tried to appreciate the gesture. You had gotten dressed up to celebrate. You wore a mauve dress with a slit up the leg and thin straps that rested delicately over your shoulders. The bruises from the weekend before had faded. Your hair actually cooperated. You were feeling rather good about yourself.

Until it became clear Mike had picked the restaurant for another reason.

His gaze shifted all over the room whenever he thought you weren't looking. He was waiting for someone, you thought. His fingers tapped mindlessly on the cloth covered table while you sipped your wine and picked at your food, doing your best to finish what he ordered for you, too scared to rock the boat.

"How long's it gonna take for you to eat?" he snapped quietly, so as not to cause a scene. You looked up in surprise, poised to answer, when you froze. Over his right shoulder at the bar sat Dave York, nursing a short glass of amber liquid. And his eyes were pinned directly on you.

Mike must not have liked how you took an extra moment to answer because his arm shot out to grab your wrist, fingertips going white from the pressure he was applying. You hissed, attention refocused on him and his hand, as you tried to squirm out of his grip. In the corner of your eye, you saw Dave stand, but he didn't make a move towards your table.

"I did something nice for you and you can't be bothered to pay me any attention? On our anniversary?" he seethed. You wanted to tell him his attention had been elsewhere the entire night, that you weren't stupid and you knew something else was going on, but you bit your tongue. As usual.

"I-I'm sorry," you stammered, giving your arm one quick yank backwards, pulling away from his grasp. "I'm just not that hungry. My stomach hurts."

"Which is it? Not hungry or your stomach hurts?"

You rubbed your wrist under the table and looked into his eyes. You saw the anger bubbling up, just under the surface, and you knew then and there how the rest of the evening was going to go.

"Both," you shot back with a clipped tone.

His eyes widened and he leaned forward, no doubt about to unleash every horrid threat he could think of under his breath when he spotted something or someone behind you. Whoever he was waiting for all evening finally showed up.

Mike stood from the table and buttoned his suit coat.

"I'll be right back. Just saw an old golfing buddy." Then he pinched your chin between his thumb and forefinger, flexing the digits harshly into your skin, making you wince. "I suggest you finish your food. We're leaving when I get back."

Then he was gone.

Your chest heaved and you took a shaky sip from your glass, looking to calm your nerves. Your eyes darted back towards the bar, but Dave was no where to be seen. Your heart sank. Just as you were resigning yourself to another evening of being on the receiving end of Mike's anger, you felt a gentle brush against your arm.

"Bathroom," Dave muttered as he walked past, heading towards the back of the restaurant.

You didn't even think. You tossed your napkin onto the table, standing up so fast you nearly knocked over your chair to hurry after him. The restrooms were down a short hallway and around a corner. Soft, classical music drifted from the speakers above you, the only other sound besides the click of your heels against the hardwood floors. When you turned the corner, Dave's arm immediately shot out to wrap around your waist, pulling you quickly out of view of the dining room.

He had swiveled you around so your back was against the wall, just past the two doors leading into the restrooms. If anyone exited the bathrooms, they would see Dave's body caging you in, clear as day.

The thought made your pulse thrum steadily in your throat.

"You need to promise me something."

Dave's voice was urgent. Like he was pressed for time.

"Huh?" you asked dreamily, lost for a moment in the warmth rolling from his body and the cloud of his cologne, engulfing you.

He opened his mouth to speak, then annoyance flickered across his face. He yanked out a nearly invisible earpiece, letting it dangle over his collar, and your eyes widened.

"A-are you... working?"

"Promise me," Dave said, grabbing you by the arms and ignoring your question, "that tomorrow night, you won't be home. You need to go out in public. Preferably with friends or family."

"What? Why?" you asked fearfully. You were snapping out of the spell he had managed to put you under. Lust was being replaced with alarm. The hairs on the back of your neck were rising.

"And use a credit card once or twice," he continued, staring deep into your eyes. "Can you do that? Hm?"

Slowly, you found yourself nodding. You had a million questions but you didn't bother to ask - he wasn't going to answer them anyway.

"Good," he breathed, looking visibly relieved. His shoulders relaxed and he let his hands drop from your upper arms to your wrists. His eyes flickered down to where Mike had grabbed you, light blue circles already developing before your very eyes. Dave's jaw twitched. "Good girl," he murmured, dragging his thumb over one of the marks. Your breath stuttered and your knees went weak, the energy between you dissolving back into something else. Something hungrier.

When his eyes met yours again, you could tell he felt it, too.

You were certain you moved at the same time. You pushed off the wall and titled your chin up just as he took a step forward and wrapped his arms around your waist. Your lips met for the first time in almost twenty years and just like that, you felt transported back in time. Anybody could have come down that hall and seen you, including your husband, but in that brief moment, you were safe inside your treehouse again. You were in the arms of the man who had been there since the beginning. Who knew you better than your own husband.

"He won't come home tonight," Dave whispered once he tore himself away. But he didn't go far. His hand had risen to cup your cheek and his forehead pressed gently against yours as he spoke. "Keep yourself safe. Go home, lock the doors, don't leave until tomorrow."

"Okay," you replied shakily, hands coming to lay flat against his chest. You could feel his heart pounding just underneath.

"Tell me what you're going to do tomorrow," he demanded firmly.

You swallowed the lump in your throat. "I'm going to go out with my friends. Somewhere public. And I'll use my credit card."

"Good," he breathed before kissing the tip of your nose. "When it's safe, I'll come get you."

"How?" you asked, gazing up into his dark brown eyes. They looked just as you remembered them. No longer were they cold and distant. Now, they were soft and warm and kind.

"I'll find you."

It was all he managed to say before you had to spring apart, the echo of footsteps tapping down the hall interrupting your moment. He turned away and pulled out his phone, pressing it against his ear as if he were taking a call. You ran your thumb under your lip, hoping to fix any smudges, and forced your feet to move past the other restaurant patron rounding the corner, back into the dining room. Away from Dave.

Even though there was definitely danger swirling somewhere around you, you knew you were safe, because Dave would be watching.

You didn't have many friends. Mike purposely made that difficult for you. But you did manage to have two friends from work who you occasionally went to dinner with or saw a movie together. So that was what you did. The three of you got dinner, where you used your credit card to pay, and then walked around the mall. One of your friends had a wedding coming up, so she dragged you from store to store as she hunted for the perfect dress. At one point towards the end of the night, you bought a tea with your card, claiming you felt a sore throat coming on.

Obsessively, you checked your phone. For what, you weren't exactly sure. Maybe a call from Mike, or something from Dave. You didn't give him your number but you had a feeling he had ways of finding that out for himself. But all evening, your phone remained silent. No texts. No calls. No news alerts. Nothing.

You dragged the night out as long as you could, but eventually your friends wanted to go home.

In the dark parking lot, you waved goodbye before turning in the direction of your parked car. It was almost eleven. That had to be enough time, right? Whatever it was Dave was trying to protect you from had to be over by then.

You fumbled for your keys in the dark, pulling them out of your purse nervously as you approached your car. You were all alone in that corner of the lot, but of course one sleek, black car had chosen to park right next to you.

You tried to keep your breathing steady as you approached, but right when you were a couple feet away from your bumper, the door to the black car swung open, startling you.

"It's me," a familiar, deep voice said. Then Dave stepped out of the car dressed in all black and your shoulders sagged.

"Oh, my god," you breathed, dragging in a ragged breath before leaning against your car. "You scared me."

Then you noticed a strange man unfurl himself from the passenger seat and you stiffened.

"It's alright," Dave assured you, glancing back at the other man for a moment. "This is Kovac. He's gonna drive your car to the hotel."

You furrowed your brow and clutched your keys to your chest.

"Why? Why can't I drive?"

Dave sighed as Kovac casually leaned against the trunk of your car and lit a cigarette.

"Because... I would prefer you drive with me. Just being extra cautious."

You considered it for a moment, looking around the empty parking lot as you shifted your weight from foot to foot until finally you relented and handed over your keys.

"I'll take good care of her," Kovac promised you, stubbing out his cigarette before unlocking your door and sliding into the driver's seat.

Dave rounded the front of his car and opened the passenger door for you. When you passed him, the scent of sweat and gunpowder flooded your senses. You slipped silently into the seat and he gently shut the door.

The hotel Dave took you to was not far away from the mall. You watched in the sideview mirror as Kovac tailed you both in your SUV.

"Don't you have any questions?" Dave finally asked, breaking the silence. You turned to look at him, his breathtaking side profile illuminated by the streetlights.

"I have probably a thousand."

"So... are you going to ask?"

You shook your head. "No. You wouldn't tell me, anyway."

The corner of his mouth twitched in amusement as he safely pulled into the hotel parking lot.

Kovac picked the spot directly next to Dave's car, turning off your SUV and joining the two of you in front of Dave's bumper.

"All set," he said, dropping the keys into Dave's palm.

Dave nodded and gave a subtle tilt of his chin towards another car parked a few spaces down. The headlights turned on and Kovac slipped into the front seat without another word or glance in your direction.

You looked up at the unassuming hotel as Dave led you into the lobby. It was middle of the road, average at best, affordable but not trashy. For some reason, you imagined Dave picking somewhere much swankier.

Dave immediately ushered you past the front desk and towards the rowdy sports bar just off the main entrance. He found a small, open spot against the bar and held out his hand.

"Give me the credit card you used earlier."

Without even questioning it, you handed it over. He bought your favorite drink and two shots of tequila, then handed it back to you. You smirked and pocketed it before taking the glass from him.

"How did you know my favorite drink?"

He shrugged and tossed back one of the shots. "Part of the job."

You took a sip from your glass, trying to hide your smile to no avail.

"I have to admit," you said, glancing around the crowded room. "This isn't the type of hotel I would have expected you to pick."

"No, it's not. But it's the type of hotel you would pick," he countered, fingers wrapping around the second shot of tequila. Your brows knit together in confusion while you watched him toss back the second shot. "C'mon. You don't have to finish that. Let's get you a room."

Your face fell, hoping he would have invited you to stay with him, but you quickly recovered. It had been so long since you had seen each other, and you were married, for fuckssake.

Not that it stopped him from kissing you in the restaurant the night before, but still.

Dave signaled for your card again when the receptionist was booking your room and you quickly handed it over. You rolled your head back and forth, working out the kinks in your neck while you waited. When she slid a piece of paper across the counter for you to sign, you did so as fast as possible. Dave's eyes lingered on your married name when the paper passed in front of him and he pursed his lips.

"Here's your key. Floor seven. Take a left when you get off the elevators and your room is around the bend," the receptionist said cheerily. You nodded your thanks and tucked away your card and receipt while you followed Dave to the elevators.

When you stepped into the car, Dave pressed the button for floor nine. You reached forward to press seven and he stopped you.

"The room's just part of the paper trail."

It took you a moment, but you caught up. Using your credit card at dinner, being with witnesses in a public setting, using your card at the bar and then again at the front desk. He was creating a rock solid alibi for whatever happened that night.

"Oh," you said softly, allowing your hand to drop back against your side.

Then, for the first time, Dave looked uncomfortable.

"Unless, of course, you want -"

"No," you said, cutting him off. "No, I want to be with you."

His eyes lit up but his mouth remained in a straight line.

"Okay, then."

You grinned and leaned next to him against the wall of the elevator, watching the little red numbers on the screen tick up, up, up, until it read nine.

"After you," Dave said, holding open the doors and ushering you out. You gave him a shy smile and stepped forward, then waited for him to lead the way. The entire walk down the hall felt like a fever dream. Your heart was pounding loudly in your ears with each muffled step against the worn out carpet. It was quiet, but when you passed by the other rooms, you could hear televisions playing or people laughing, completely oblivious to whatever it is you were about to do.

Dave tapped his plastic keycard against the sensor, the little light flashing from red to green with a loud click. When you entered his room, it was exactly like you had expected. Suits and shirts hanging carefully in the small, open closet by the bathroom. Suitcase laid out on the floor with his belongings neatly packed inside, not a single item out of place.

He flicked on another light and the lamps next to his king sized bed came to life, casting the deep green comforter and patterned rug in a warm glow.

That moment could have been awkward if you had given yourself a chance to take everything in, but your body moved faster than your mind. You swirled around and looped your arms around Dave's neck, pulling him down to your level, eager to feel the softness of his lips against your own again. And when his mouth crashed hungrily against yours, all of your questions and insecurities drifted away.

It should have felt wrong, being in the arms of a man that wasn't your husband, but not one shred of guilt entered your body. How could it, when his hands on your waist and his tongue slipping past your lips felt so good?

"Tell me you want me," Dave rasped in between feverish kisses. You took a step backwards towards the bed and he eagerly chased after you.

"You know I do," you whispered, head in a fog. His lips had dragged down to your chin, nipping there gently so as to give you a chance to speak. But words were hard to come by whenever you were in his orbit.

His fingers gripped your waist a little harder when he pulled away to look into your eyes.

"I need to hear it."

You slowly blinked up at him, both your chests rising and falling faster than a moment ago.

"I want you."

Dave swallowed and a muscle in his jaw jumped.

"More than him?"

Your knees went weak when you heard the possessive tone in his voice.

"Yes," you told him. He was already pushing you onto the bed, his mouth inches away from colliding with yours when you added, "I've always wanted you more than him."

He groaned into your mouth, a deep rumble you could feel in your own chest when you were trapped between the weight of him and the old mattress. You could taste the tequila on his tongue as he licked into your mouth with an urgency you didn't expect from a man who appeared so put together, and the thought of being the one to unravel him, to make him a little messier, thrilled you.

You whined impatiently when Dave pulled away from the kiss and shuffled back onto his knees.

"Need to see you," he mumbled, shaky fingers already working on the button of your jeans. You eagerly lifted your hips so he could strip them off with a grunt, then tossed your arms above your head when he pushed up the hem of your shirt.

His hands kept working, plucking at your underwear and bra, but he couldn't hold himself back from kissing you any longer, his tongue invading your mouth once again. The feel of his kiss grew more and more familiar with each passing second. You felt your bra come loose around your shoulders and middle, so you subtly shimmied underneath him, freeing yourself of the offensive fabric and letting it fall to the floor. His palm was on you in an instant, feeling the weight of your breast in his hand and rolling your nipple between his fingers before his eyes even had a chance to open and drink you in.

"You know how long I've been thinking about this?" he asked when your head tipped back towards the headboard, lungs filling with fresh air. His lips slowly dragged down the column of your throat, tongue flicking out occasionally to taste your skin. "Twenty years," he said, not waiting for you to answer. Your back arched and your fingers raised to get tangled in his hair. Nobody had ever spoken to you or touched you the way he did. It was intoxicating to be an object of his worship and desire. A small voice in the back of your mind wondered how you would be able to go back to your miserable life after that night, how you would be able to go on after experiencing Dave's lavish adoration like he didn't tilt your world on it's axis.

"You ever think about me?" he asked. His voice sounded a little sheepish, like he was trying to hide it, but you picked up on it. You lifted your hips when he slid your underwear down your legs with one hand and you said, "Yes. All the time. Especially-"

You cut yourself off with a bite to your lower lip. Dave's hands, which were in the process of caressing every soft curve of your now bare body, froze. His eyes met yours once again, searching them before he asked, "What?"

You shook your head and tried to pull him in for another kiss, but he resisted. Tears pricked the corners of your eyes and his brows furrowed. He didn't like the idea of you holding something back. Not now. Not when he finally had you, after so long. He wanted all of you, the good and the bad.

"Tell me," he urged. He needed to know.

You sighed and averted your gaze. "Especially... on really bad days. Those days I stay up at night, waiting for the pain to go away, and I think about you. How you would never lay a finger on me like that."

His jaw tensed. Anger boiled hot through his veins at the thought of you cowering in your bed or bathroom, in pain and crying and thinking about him.

"Look at me," he said through clenched teeth. You took a deep breath and did what he asked, gazing up at him with watery eyes, trying your best to put on a brave face. "That will never happen again, do you understand? He will never hurt you again. It's over."

You gave him a weak smile and shook your head.

"He won't let me leave. I've tried, believe me, but-"

"You're not listening to me, sweetheart," Dave said, pinching your chin and holding your gaze, trying to do his best to convey his message without implicating you. "You're safe. It's over."

You opened your mouth to argue back and then you paused. You scanned his face and he watched you try to mentally connect the dots. What did that mean? Was Mike arrested?

"Do you understand?" he whispered softly. Slowly, you nodded, and his mouth pulled into a smile. "Good. Now-" Dave unzipped his coat and tossed it on top of your abandoned pile of clothes. He rolled on top of you, caging you in for one quick, heated kiss that took your breath away. When he pulled back, he had a playful look in his eye. It made you smile, your anguish quickly sweeping back into the furthest recesses of your mind. "Let me give you a better reason to think about me."

When he began to move down the bed so he could settle his broad shoulders between your legs, a bolt of anxiety shot through you. You leaned up on your elbows, eyes all wide and nervous, watching as he got comfortable. His hands wrapped firmly but tenderly around your thighs, grip strong so he could fight your instinct to clamp your legs shut.

"W-what are you doing?"

Dave looked up at you with surprise. His eyes flickered between your face and your glistening center, then back again.

"Do you not want me to?"

Your heart was racing so fast, you felt like you were floating. Having a man go down on you was certainly not something you were used to, but if you gave yourself any time at all to think, you would have realized Dave was the type of man willing to give you everything and anything you could ever want or need, including something selfless like that. Something just to make you feel good.

"I-I don't know. It's been a while..." you trailed off, cheeks warming with embarrassment. "It's not exactly something Mi-"

"Stop."

Your mouth snapped shut, wilting under the steely look in his eye.

"Don't say his name," Dave said gently, realizing he might have been a bit too harsh at first. You nodded, understanding, but remained silent. He took a steadying breath and started over. "I won't do anything you don't want me to do. But if being shy is the reason you don't want this, I won't accept that."

He looked up at you from between your legs, gaze heated as he tilted his chin slightly to brush his lips over the inside of your thigh. He maintained eye contact, watching you shudder from the sensation of his five o'clock shadow scraping your sensitive skin.

"What's it gonna be, baby?" he asked before doing the same to your other thigh. You gasped quietly and then swallowed before letting your legs fall open. Dave smirked.

"I want it."

Your voice was soft and meek. He wanted you to feel in control. He wanted you to know just how tightly you had him wrapped around your finger.

"Louder."

You dropped your chin to your chest, lips parted with anticipation as you watched his mouth hover over your mound. You could feel the heat from his exhale fan over you, making your cunt pulse around nothing.

"I want it," you said, voice firm, just as he asked. "I want you to make me feel good, Dave."

One corner of his mouth lifted and his eyes sparkled with excitement.

"Yes, ma'am."

Your eyes instantly rolled to the back of your head when he dragged his tongue through your folds for the first time. Fingers thread through Dave's dark hair as he licked at you again. Over and over and over until your head fell back and you collapsed into the plush pillow.

"Oh - fuck, Dave, that's -" you cut yourself off with a moan, head lolling to the side and eyes sliding shut. It felt too good. He was too good. His warm, strong tongue licked into you messily, flooding your body with rolling waves of pleasure you had never experienced before. Your muscles were limp, pliant and soft under his hands and mouth, allowing him to take and take as much as he wanted.

And he did.

You were helpless against him, helpless against the way he feasted between your legs, entirely at his mercy. Shaky fingers grappled for leverage in his hair but it was half-hearted, at best. Dave had reduced you to a whimpering puddle with every greedy lap of his tongue, and he loved it. He loved how soft you were for him, loved hearing sweet little moans filter past your lips. It was every one of his twenty years worth of wildest fantasies come true, and he couldn't be stopped.

When he pressed your thighs into your chest, tilting your hips to give him even better access to your cunt, you gasped his name. The sound made his cock throb painfully, still trapped behind too many layers of clothes. He rut his hips pathetically against the mattress, seeking just a sliver of relief as he continued to lick and kiss and bite at your folds. The roof could have been ripped off the building and he wouldn't have stopped. He was determined to memorize and map out every inch of you, draw out every possible sound and swallow every drop of your arousal. He wanted to smell you on him for days. He wanted his jaw to ache. Every time he closed his eyes, he wanted to see you writhing around in ecstasy underneath him.

He felt insane. Never in his life had he felt so wild and careless, but decades of being denied the only thing he ever truly wanted made him a madman.

"Dave," you moaned, back arching and collapsing repeatedly off the mattress. He peered up at you, tongue still swirling steadily over your clit, lips still suckling and teeth grazing your delicate skin in the same delicious pattern, not sacrificing an ounce of your pleasure when he dragged his focus to your scrunched up face.

Your eyes, wild and dark, found his. His name fell from your lips like a song as you watched his mouth eat at you with skilled precision. The sight of him like that between your legs, all wrecked and crazed and hungry, was the final push you needed.

Your orgasm forced you upright, sitting with your legs bent and spread. You could see Dave so much clearer that way, watching every purse of his lips and flick of his tongue as he guided you through it. One of your hands raked through his hair, holding him against you so you could grind against his mouth while the other supported your weight somewhere behind you.

With one last drawn out moan, your head tipped back and your eyes slipped shut. Your mouth hung open, pulling in deep gulps of air. A shudder ran through your body and your arm began to shake. Dave was still dutifully cleaning up the mess between your legs, but his licks were softer, gentler, as he worked.

"Oh, my god," you breathed, collapsing back into the bed. Your heart was racing in your chest, skin coated in a thin layer of sweat and your mind was blissfully blank. It wasn't until Dave withdrew himself from between your legs that you opened your eyes. The loss of his body heat made you shiver, and suddenly you felt painfully exposed. You weakly pulled at the bedspread, looking to cover yourself up, when he stopped you.

"Don't."

Your hand instantly released the comforter and you rolled your head to look at him. He had been removing his shirt when you were busy trying to cover yourself up. Your breath quickened and you forgot all about your earlier shyness when you drank in his bare upper half for the first time. Your mouth went dry and jaw went slack at the sight of his muscular, wide shoulders and chest, leading down to a soft but toned stomach. Dave smirked, flinging his belt off before working on the zipper of his pants.

You were out of your element. On one hand you could count how many times Mike made you come in the past fifteen years. You were bone tired and legs still shaky from the way Dave had torn you apart just minutes earlier, unsure if you had it in you to go again. But when he dropped his pants and boxers, revealing his thick, rock hard erection, you felt a second wave of energy hit.

"Shit," you whispered, scrambling to your knees on the bed. Dave's dark eyes skated up and down your naked body, cock twitching when he saw the wetness between your legs glisten as you shifted down the bed on your knees, towards him.

Your soft palms dragged down the sharp planes of his chest, your eyes wide and reverent, studying every inch of his skin. He held his breath, tight muscles twitching under your delicate touch. He flexed his hands at his sides, eyes boring into you, giving you all the time you needed to take him in.

"You've grown up, Dave York."

He chuckled, releasing a nervous breath. It was growing increasingly difficult not to touch you.

"A lot's changed since the treehouse," he murmured. Your eyes flickered up to his, hands still drifting slowly down his stomach.

"You remember."

He brought one hand up to cup your cheek. You leaned into his touch, your fingers stalling right above where he wanted you the most. Your fingertips grazed the coarse hairs there and he thought he might die if you didn't touch him soon.

"Of course I remember."

You closed what little distance remained, capturing his lower lip between your own. You could taste your release on his mouth, surprising yourself when you weren't repulsed by the flavor. You had a feeling it had something to do with the man it was connected to. The idea of Dave smelling like you awakened some primal urge deep inside, like you craved to mark him somehow.

You slid your hand down the rest of the way, fingers wrapping around the base of his cock. He pulled in a sharp breath against your lips, then groaned when your wrist slowly started to work him, up and down.

Dave cursed under his breath when your thumb swept across his slit, collecting the sticky bead of wetness pooling there. He kissed you deeper, tongue swirling frantically inside your mouth, his hips jolting forward, chasing your touch.

"I want you," he murmured, voice a little strained. He gripped the side of your face so tightly, like he was afraid to let you go. You bloomed with pride when you heard his breath stutter and you grinned before dropping your mouth to taste the skin covering his pulse point. It fluttered wildly under your tongue, the rhythm giving away his true feelings in that moment. He more than wanted you. He needed you.

"You have me," you said, lips trailing down his throat. "I'm all yours."

Desperate hands grabbed at your hip and the back of your head, laying you down flat under him with your lips still latched to his neck and your fist still pumping his cock. Once he settled between your legs, it was as if you moved as one: your hand paused, lining him up at your entrance, and a moment later he grabbed that same wrist, pinning it above your head at the exact same time he buried himself inside you with one deep thrust.

"Oh!" you cried out, the sudden stretch stealing your breath. Your head dropped back, abandoning the mark you left on his throat. It was hard to think, hard to speak, hard to do anything except focus on the way he opened you up, carving a spot for himself inside of you.

"It's okay, I got you," he gasped. It was the first time you realized he was just as much of a wreck as you. His mouth hung open, face buried in the crook of your shoulder, struggling to catch his breath. He still held your arm firmly above your head, pressing your wrist into the plush comforter. After a minute, once you both managed to clear your heads, his grip loosened. But instead of letting you go, he slid his palm up to press into yours, fingers lacing together lovingly when you tilted your chin and slotted your lips together once again.

The weight of him on top of you was stifling, the wide stretch of your hips to accommodate his broad torso already pulling your muscles, but it felt so good. With your free hand, you carded your fingers through his hair, deepening the kiss by slipping your tongue past his lips. There was nowhere else you'd rather be than pinned under Dave York's hulking frame, cocooned and protected by his strong body. You wanted him to possess you in every way imaginable, tangle and weave himself through every fiber of your being.

When he started to move, he was so much gentler than you imagined him to be. He took his time, feeding you his cock inch by inch, slowly dragging his hips back just to push back inside at the same excruciating pace. Your fingers squeezed around his with each thrust, tongues still tangled together, sharing soft sighs and gasps each time he moved.

"Good?" he whispered, breaking away and pressing your foreheads together. Your skin was growing dewy, sweat forming where your bodies touched.

"Yeah," you whispered back. His eyelids fluttered when you rocked your hips up to meet his. "You won't break me, you know," you teased. He grinned but still maintained the same pace, making you gasp when he shifted and brushed against a sensitive spot no one had ever reached before.

"I know. Just - don't want to rush it. Been thinking about this for too damn long." He nibbled playfully at your chin before finally releasing the hand above your head. He cupped the back of your thigh, lifting your leg so it hooked over his lower back, burying himself even further inside your tight cunt. You moaned his name, brows knitting together and face flushing with arousal and maybe a little bit of embarrassment when you whined in his ear, "So deep. You're so fucking deep."

There were times in the past twenty years where Dave thought he might be deranged. The way he could never let you go, never get you out of his mind, bordered on obsessive. Time didn't dampen it, like he thought it would. Distance, either. Not a single day passed where you didn't cross his mind and he wondered what the hell was wrong with him. When your husband's name crossed his desk, his next target, with your name next to it posed as a question, he didn't sleep for three days. Panic seized his entire body, morning and night. If you were guilty, if you were privy to anything your husband did - or, god forbid - assisted him with any of his dealings, he knew he wouldn't be able to pull the trigger. Yet he still came back home, because he couldn't pass up the opportunity to see you again. The relief he felt when he confirmed you were clueless, that you were pushed into the darkness by your husband's cruel hand, was unmatched. It might have been the only good deed that bastard ever did for you.

And then the obsession grew ten-fold. Because he knew finally, when his work was done, he would get to have you.

Mania took hold of his mind. The question did he ever fuck you like this? Did he ever make you feel this good? This loved? sat on the tip of his tongue. He wanted to know. He wanted to hear you say he was the best you'd ever had. But he didn't, because that fucking asshole's name had no place in that room. He didn't want to invite him into the sacred place where Dave was buried deep inside you, showing you all the ways he loved you without saying the words.

"You like it like this, baby?" he asked instead. "You like it nice and slow?"

"Yes," you whimpered. Your fingers tugged harshly at his hair when he brushed against that spot again and it made him groan. "Fuck - whatever you're doing, keep doing it," you said, mouthing at his cheek. Your lips burned from the sharp hairs that were already beginning to grow back across his jaw. He rolled his hips again, pulling another broken moan from the back of your throat, slowly fanning the flames of the warmth blooming in your belly. He could feel you pulsing around his cock, pulling him in as your orgasm began to steadily build. He cupped one of your breasts, clamping his mouth around your nipple, allowing his teeth to gently graze the sensitive skin, all in an effort to heighten your pleasure. Based on the way your back arched and you cried out his name, it sounded like he was pretty damn successful.

"You feel so good," he panted, breath coming quick and short. He could feel himself slipping. "So good. So beautiful - fuck," he said with a groan. Your fingers found his shoulder, nails digging into his skin.

It was so hot. Your hair was sticking to the back of your neck. You could feel drops of sweat sliding down the sides of your head. Dave was fucking everywhere. His entire body caged you in, his mouth alternated licking and sucking at your breasts, cock buried further than any man ever had. His hand held your ass, pulling you tight against him, helping you rock your hips in rhythm with his.

And then you felt it. Something deep inside, a pressure that climbed up the base of your spine that had you going rigid and you gasped.

"Oh, my god, Dave - I'm... I'm gonna-"

"Give it to me," he growled, mouth abandoning your sore breasts so he could see you. He wanted to watch. He needed to see the look on your face when you came again. He fantasized about what you'd look like coming on his cock for so long and he was finally going to witness it.

"Right there," you whined, then tipped your head back with a loud moan. He ground his hips against your clit, a grunt rumbling from the back of his throat when your soft cunt clenched down around him.

His dark eyes fixed on yours, feeling his own orgasm creeping up when you screamed out his name and fell apart. He locked his jaw, fighting it, determined to wait until your release swept through you. Your nails dug into his skin, legs pulling tight around his waist. You cried out until your voice cracked and his cock swelled inside you at the sound.

Your release coated his hips and the thick patch of hair that continued to rub against your clit. He looked down, jaw going slack at the wetness that smeared across you both, then moaned your name when your cunt squeezed him again. His head snapped up in surprise to find another orgasm rolling through you.

"Oh, shit," he chuckled, mesmerized. You writhed weakly underneath him, chest heaving with your eyes closed and mouth hung open in a silent moan, too tired and spent to find your voice. You were so soft and warm and fucking soaked, he couldn't hold back any longer.

He scooped you off the bed and into his lap, pressing you against his chest, burying his face in your neck and groaning your name into your skin. His body stilled, breathing a deep sigh of relief when his cock throbbed, spilling thick ropes of his seed deep within your walls.

Dave held you close, each of you panting desperately for air. A shiver ran down his spine and another burst of spend flooded your used cunt. He felt dizzy and out of control, the force of his orgasm taking him by surprise. But he should have known it would have been that good with you.

Your lips brushed lazily against his collarbone, a whisper of his name in-between kisses and he closed his eyes. A wave of peace washed over him: he had everything he could ever want. At last, he could rest.

"We should clean up," he murmured into your hair. You made a whine of protest and he smiled. "You made a mess, sweetheart. We'll be quick, I promise."

If you were embarrassed, you didn't show it. You tilted your chin up, head resting against his shoulder and tired eyes finding his.

"My biggest regret in life was not going with you that night."

Dave wrapped his arms around you tighter, emotion swelling in his chest. I love you, I never stopped loving you.

"I should've fought harder for you. Should've made you mine that night we kissed."

You gave him a sad smile and traced his bottom lip with your fingertip. "Guess we made up for it today, huh?"

"Oh, I plan on making it up to you for a long time," he said, hissing when he flexed his hips and slid out of your warm clutch.

He led you to the shower, let you lean against the wall while he gently cleaned you up. He shampooed your hair with the little bottle that was left next to the sink, thick fingers carefully scrubbing your scalp. You moaned and tipped your head back against his chest, closing your eyes while the warm water cascaded down over both your shoulders.

When his hand fell to clean between your legs, he pressed one finger inside. You tensed and made a little sound, wiggling in his arms as he shushed you. He kissed the shell of your ear and whispered, keep all that in there for me, okay?

"I'm on birth control," you said, wincing when he withdrew his finger.

"So?" was all he said. Then you understood. He wanted to claim you, the same way you wanted to mark him. It made your face flood with warmth.

That night, Dave took care of you. He got you fed and he made sure you weren't in any pain or discomfort. He fluffed your pillows, dried your hair with a towel, and rubbed your sore hips after he slipped into bed beside you.

When you drifted off to sleep, with Dave's strong, protective arm draped over your middle, you dreamt of a boy with dark brown eyes who promised to take you away from all your pain, to save you and care for you until your last breath.

Sunlight beamed through a crack in the shades, landing right over your eyes and stirring you out of the deepest sleep you ever had. It was no wonder, because when you opened your eyes and took in your surroundings, you found yourself still tangled up with Dave. His arms wrapped around you, his face buried in your neck. Your leg wedged between his own. The thought of having to move whatsoever was cruel, but you had to use the bathroom. Somehow, you slowly managed to extract yourself from Dave's hold with not so much as a change in his breathing pattern.

After you used the bathroom, you hurried back to bed, snatching your phone from the table along the way. You slotted yourself beside him and instinctually, his arms reached over to envelope you once again. It was pure bliss.

You tapped your phone to check the time and your face fell.

38 missed calls. Countless text messages from family members.

Your heart lurched into your throat and with shaky hands, you opened the notifications. There were several voicemails but you chose to call your mother in law first, as she was the one who was responsible for half of the calls.

"Oh Jesus Christ, finally!" you heard her sob when she picked up the phone. You swallowed and sat up in bed, Dave's arms dropping to your waist.

"H-hey, what's going on? Is everything-"

"Didn't you hear my voicemails?" she shrieked. You winced and heard some other voices in the background telling her to calm down.

"No, I just woke up and saw - just tell me what's going on," you said, voice shaking. Dave began to stir next to you.

"He's dead!" she cried, then began to wail nonsense while your vision narrowed and your ears began to ring.

"Hey, honey, it's Ricky," your father in law's voice said from the other end.

"Who's d-dead? W-what is she talking about?"

Dave propped himself up on his elbow, blinking away the sleep from his eyes so he could watch you.

"Mikey's dead, honey. I'm - I'm so sorry," you heard him sniffle and continue to tell you something about a car accident but you couldn't retain any of the details. Dave sat up in bed next to you and pressed a kiss against your shoulder, but you continued to stare blankly at the wall.

"Where are you? Are you home?" he finally asked, shaking you out of your stupor.

"Tell them where you are," Dave's voice whispered so only you could hear. You looked over at him now, panic etched across your face only to find his remained perfectly calm.

"I-I'm at the Hyatt," you stammered. Dave nodded his approval and gave your shoulder another kiss.

"The - what? Why?"

"Tell them you had too much to drink with your friends and you didn't feel safe driving."

You swallowed the lump in your throat and took a deep breath.

"I was out with friends and I had one too many at the hotel bar," you began, licking your lips nervously, "I got a room, I didn't want to drive."

"Good girl."

You listened to your father in law drone on for another five minutes about the police stopping by later and how you really should be there, and you nodded numbly, unable to say much else.

When you hung up, adrenaline still buzzing through your veins and your heart thumping loudly in your chest, you slowly turned to Dave.

He looked at you expectantly, waiting for the inevitable question. But as he stared into your eyes, he watched the fear melt into acceptance, and then calmness blended into what he was ultimately waiting for, what you deserved to feel after years of abuse - relief.

"What are you thinking about?" he asked, his own heart rate spiking. He saved you. He did what he had to do and saved you, but he still worried you harbored some old feelings for Mike. He braced for revulsion. A look of horror.

"I'm thinking... I want pancakes for breakfast," you said with a small smile.

Dave thought he might collapse from relief. He took your hand and brought it up to his mouth, brushing his lips over your knuckles and making your smile widen.

"Pancakes it is."

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[sizzlingcloudmentality]

yes, ma'am

Dave York x dominatrix!reader | 9.5k w | explicit, mdni | ao3

summary: life goes sideways and Dave is close to snapping. he needs professional help. aka let himself be dominated and be at the receiving end for once. good thing he has your number.

warnings: sub-ish!Dave (how sub can a born dom be?), dominatrix!reader, no use of y/n, reader is able-bodied, Dave is a good husband and father™️, Molly throwing up, slight humiliation (the boy being called dummy <3), slight ball torture, (guided) masturbation (m), finger sucking, petnames (ma'am, good boy, love), cum eating, slight shoe worship, dick+pussy pronouns, reader wears lipstick, nail polish and stilettos, squint and you miss unprotected PinV; dm me if I missed any

a/n: my submission for @wannab-urs dmamc 2025. i had so much fun domming my man and I tried to make it believable because, well, he's Dave 'the dom' York. enjoy another character study including his dick. thank you @guiltyasdave for the beta and constant love, even though sub!Dave isn't your cup of tea 🥹💛

"Gentle eyes, soft words, tender chin scratches. You have his tail wagging. Slowly, slowly you are domesticating him into a dog, one praise at a time."

“Fuck!” His hand slams down on the steering wheel, once, twice. Again, again, again, until his palm hurts and the thrumming pain helps him to push aside the anger boiling inside of him. He rips down his beanie, ripping out a few hairs as well, not giving a shit about it.

He fucked up. If it wasn’t for his partner the mission would have gone south completely, pulling him along. The plan had been perfect, the preparations perfect as well. All he had to do was to pull the trigger and take the target out. But he fucking missed. He fucking missed. Hit the target into the shoulder, and if Dave’s partner didn’t take initiative and put a bullet through the target's head… He doesn’t want to think about it.

He already saw his domestic life passing before his eyes. The police arresting him at home, his daughters terrified and not understanding why they would take their daddy away. Carol at the trial, being questioned if she really didn’t know about her husband’s assassination side hustle, her face puffy and red from crying.

Dave hisses out another curse, hitting the hard wheel in front of him again.

He could always just disappear, always has an emergency duffle bag stowed away with fake IDs and some cash. But he wouldn't stomach it, couldn't stomach it, leaving his family behind.

It was a close call today… He starts the engine and pulls away from the curb, the tail lights of his inconspicuous car slowly blending in with the dozens of others on the nightly roads as he heads home to his inconspicuous life.

The next few days were difficult, to say the least. His higher up at the CIA was a pain in the ass, deadlines were piling up, Molly got sick and needed attention and care, Carol needed his support, the almost-failed mission was still breathing down his neck… He needed a break and there was no break in sight. Not now. His family needs him, his job does, he needs to fucking function now.

“Daddy, ‘m not feeling good,” Molly mumbles, curled up on the couch, her head in Dave’s lap while he’s working on a report on his laptop.

“Just a second, baby.” He’s almost done, he just needs a minute and the worst part of his report would be finished. Molly stirs on the couch, hastily now. God damnit.

“Daddy…” Her little body starts trembling and with a shudder and a sound that makes Dave’s heart hurt, she slumps over and pukes. All over his notes. Over his pants he had just picked up from the dry cleaning. All over the cream colored couch that Carol wanted so badly and that looks like shit now. All over his laptop. The screen flickers a last time before it goes dark.

“I'm so sorry… Please don't be mad, Daddy.” Molly starts crying, feeling sick and miserable, her little hands shaking as she grips her ruined blanket.

The vein on his neck, he feels it throbbing. His laptop, his fucking work laptop, broken. The sticky, disgusting warmth of what once was chicken soup seeps through his trousers and makes his eyelid twitch.

Just pick your baby up, just comfort her, just help her change into new pajamas, just be a good father, just be good…

“Daddy?” She sounds so fragile, her voice nothing more than a weak breath. She clumsily pushes herself up and accidentally nudges the laptop off of Dave’s knees. The carpet swallows the low thud when it hits the ground, but the cracking of the screen is still very much audible, just as much as Molly’s shocked gasp.

“You broke it. You fucking broke it, Molly,” Dave hisses and is on his feet in an instant, his daughter toppling back onto the couch, now crying even more because she upset her dad.

He doesn’t look over to her but picks up his laptop, trying to bring it back to life. The muscles in his jaw clench when Molly’s sobs start pealing in his eardrums. Dave turns towards her, a barked shut up already on his tongue when Carol appears in the doorway.

One quick look is enough for her to assess the situation. Their crying daughter, a picture of misery and guilt written all over her pale face and Dave, nostrils flared and one hand balled into a fist, the unmistakable smell of vomit reaching her nose… No, this wasn’t good.

“It'll take it from here, Dave,” she says when she strides past him. “Go and calm down.” There's no bite to her words, bite wouldn't do any good at this moment. It would only make it worse, make Dave lose the last bits of reason.

Carol scoops Molly up in her arms, pressing a few soothing kisses to the little girl’s temple. She looks over her shoulder and gestures towards the door with a tilt of her chin as if to say please, just go.

And he does. He flees from the living room and the feeling of shame that starts licking at his insides. It gets too much. A thought crosses his mind, a simple calculation, it has been almost ten months since…

A shiver runs through him and he shakes the idea off his mind like a dog tries to shake off an annoying tick. No, he wouldn't need to do it this time, there sure is another possibility to finally get a grip on his life. He just needs to focus more. Needs a better sleep regimen. More training. More protein. More control over all the small bits and pieces of his life.

Dave shuts the door to his home gym behind him and gets to work. If his muscles are trembling and his lungs are begging him for air, he has no time to think about what kind of an asshole father and husband he is. And so he starts tormenting his body to shut off his mind, to keep the guilt and shame at bay. For now.

That night, when he slips under the bed sheets, almost silently to not wake his sleeping wife, the idea creeps back into his head. Like a tick it has sunk its teeth into his skin and he can’t seem to get rid of it since the first time he has done… it.

It has helped him before, more than he likes to admit it. But he hates it. Because he cannot do it on his own. Because he needs someone else doing it for him, to him. And Dave never liked to be dependent on something or someone.

The sheets rustle and Carol’s hand finds his own, wrapping her fingers around his in the darkness as if she was trying to comfort him. But in reality she wanted his comfort and soothing. Dave wasn't a man who was dependent. Because he always was the man everyone else depended on.

He turns on his side and lifts her hand to his lips to press a gentle kiss to Carol’s knuckles.

She hums, shuffles closer, her feet slipping between his calves. After a moment of content silence a murmur crawls over the pillows to Dave and settles right on his chest, where the thought about it sits and gnaws at him like a night terror.

“Maybe… maybe you should go see that therapist again? They really helped you the last time.”

Therapist. That was what he told his wife you were. And the things you did, it was therapy. It is, in a way. It helped him. And he hates that it does. He hates that he can’t function like he needs to. He hates that Carol sounds so timid when she suggests therapy, afraid that he could snap at her, too, because she dares to point out his weakness.

He sighs, her soft knuckles still held against his lips. “Is Molly okay?”

“She’s a little better, yes.”

The silence weighs heavy for a moment, Carol’s unanswered question pressing down on Dave’s rib cage. Or is it the feeling of guilt? About being a shit show of a father and husband? About needing you to function, even if it all feels so wrong but afterwards it always feels good and right and he feels better, every damn time?

“I'll make an appointment,” he murmurs and his lips find her ring finger, kissing the spot where the simple golden band always sits. She never takes the ring off, just like him. Carol nestles into his arms, the relief clear when she whispers her thank you, I love you into the hollow between his clavicles. God, he is such a failure, he thinks to himself with his wife in his arms and you in his mind.

You are completely booked out. Months ahead. Of course you are. There never is a shortage of people who want your services. Or to be exact, who need them. So when you received the request for an appointment “asap, ma'am”, signed by David York, you told him you were free again in three months. But then another customer canceled their session and because you like David, you give preference to him.

So a week and a half later you find yourself entering the bar of the Rosewood, one of the finest hotels of the city. Doors magically open because there’s always some finance or marketing guy holding them open for you. Each step with your pointy high heels parts the crowd in front of you and is paved with sleek smiles and licked lips of the men who move out of your way.

You pay them no mind, they only exist at the periphery of your focus. They are not important and will never be. What is important is your customer for this day. You recognize him, the way he sits at the bar, one foot on the footrest of the empty stool next to him, the other one firmly planted onto the ground. Just another pretty man in a suit, interchangeable for most who might look at him.

But for you he was different. A customer, first and foremost. A challenge, too. And he's probably the only man in this bar who is not doubling over to get a crumb of your attention. You had to work for what your customers usually give you gladly and freely: their acceptance and sometimes even devotion.

That is why you like Dave York, because working for him and with him is rewarding. It satisfies you to no end to finally turn his smoothness into something with cracks and weaknesses. And to have him thank you for it.

One of the many men in suits in this bar moves from his place on the outer borders of your attention into the spotlight and obscures the view on Dave. The guy looks you up and down, tries to smile a flirty smile but all you see is a pathetic obstacle. Your mouth already opens to tell him no to whatever suggestion he wants to make, when a big hand lands on the man's shoulder.

Thick fingers, blunt nails, a simple golden wedding band. You look past the surprised strangers face and find Dave, standing behind the man.

“Sorry buddy, not tonight,” Dave tells the man. For a moment they look at each other, like two wolves who found a piece of meat and now silently fight for ownership. Two alphas in suits. But only one of them is a wolf, the other one is just a dog.

“Not ever,” you add when you pass the stranger. The sting of your words gets soothed by your sweet smile, showing off your wolfish canines as you do. Your gaze meets Dave’s own. Two alphas looking at each other again, this time both are wolves.

You don't even bother to care about the other man who disappeared into insignificance as quickly as he had the guts to peek his head out of it. Your focus is solely on Dave now. He looks tired, frail even in the small details of his facial expression. He already looks cracked, maybe you wouldn’t have to work as hard as usual today.

“It has been a while.” You sit down at the bar and Dave gestures for the bartender. He always orders you a drink before you both go up to the booked suite. He never not acts according to the unspoken rules of those kinds of arrangements. He is polite and respectful, even if the air around him very much tastes like aversion. Not against you as a person or the work you do. The aversion is directed against himself and the fact that he was sitting in this bar with you and not at home with whoever was waiting there for him.

He nods his head. That would have to do as an answer. “The usual?” he asks instead when the bartender waits for the order.

“The usual,” you confirm and watch Dave order your vodka on ice. It is a nice change of pace, to not talk and to enjoy the silence, to stretch it like a fabric until it becomes see-through and the silent words between them become audible. Two wolves, dressed in white shirts and blouses, in polished shoes, mustering each other over the rims of their glasses. Sizing each other up.

You take a big sip of your vodka and set the glass down. There’s still a good portion of the booze left, but you need to keep a clear mind for what comes next.

“Are you done?”

Usually he obliges and leaves the rest of his drink on the counter, usually he wants to get over and done with it, with you, with himself. But tonight his need for some more liquid courage is bigger.

“Not yet, ma'am.” His legs spread a little more when he leans back on the barstool. Not in a sleazy manner, not to act like he is hung like a horse. No, taking up space comes naturally to him. And again he is respectful about it. He gives your crossed legs enough room between his thighs, almost like he acts as a buffer between the bustling bar and you.

A thought crosses your mind and makes you smile. He is protective, even though you mean nothing to him. You stretch out your leg, just enough to let the tip of your pointed stiletto brush against his shin. A silent praise for him being good.

Dave’s hand suddenly grabs your ankle, following his first impulse of inhibiting an unwanted touch. Your eyes snap up and meet his, your surprise showing in your raised brows. The grip of his fingers loosens immediately, like he touched something that he wasn’t allowed to, like a too hot cookie fresh from the baking tray.

“Finish your drink then.” A demand dressed up as a friendly request. You pull your foot away, Dave’s privilege of getting a feel for you is already over.

“Yes, ma'am,” he says lowly, just loud enough to be heard over the hustle and bustle of the bar. He swirls his drink in his glass and takes another look at you. You look like some partner in a law firm or some higher up shoving around numbers on paper and employees in meetings. Expensive clothes, expensive designer bags, expensive heels. He had seen them often enough to know that you only wear those 700$ pairs. You’re sleek, smooth, polished, with edges that look round and safe to touch but will cut through skin and flesh if you want to.

He takes a sip of his drink and watches you smile, the red lip stretching over your teeth. He feels a part of him getting excited, this one stupid part of himself, the part which constantly makes troubles. Some corner of his brain just loves this. And apparently needs it too, needs it to make him function as a person. This little part loves to make you smile. And he hates it.

You let him finish his drink, let him buy himself a few more minutes before you leave the bar and enter the grand and shiny hotel lobby. Having people move out of your way just by the way your heels click is satisfying. But having someone in front doing it for you is better. You watch Dave plowing through the lobby as he makes his way to the elevators. His ass looks cute, you think to yourself and enter the cabin with him.

He’s so well behaved for you, pressing the buttons, shielding you from the other guests and making sure you can stand comfortably without anyone standing too close to you, himself included, You smile at him again and for a moment one corner of his lips twitch. Good, that's good. He's responsive tonight.

Dave exits the elevator and struts through the long hallway, countless doors left and right until you reach the right one. A quiet beep when the key card opens the door, muffled footfall on the thick carpet and a discreet click when he closes and locks the door behind you both again. Another reason you love this hotel so much, beside the soft beds and high end shower products in the marble bathrooms: the soundproofing.

No matter how hard the stomp, how loud a scream, how sharp a smack, the walls of these rooms seem to swallow the noises and they are never sated. They drink down every word and whisper and always seem to want more. Like the people you work with.

“Tell me about your rules and limits tonight, David,” you say and look around the suite for a moment. You gesture for him to sit down on one of the plush chairs facing a full body mirror.

All you know about Dave is his name, his phone number and another number as an emergency contact. The rest is guesswork you did over the last months and years. The golden ring on his ring finger? He never takes it off. He's married or maybe widowed.

Dave takes off his jacket and hangs it over the backrest of the velvet chair. One time a little toy figurine fell out of his pocket when he took his jacket off. So there must be a child who he has a close enough relationship with for it to sneak little gifts into his pockets. This time nothing out of the ordinary happens. He simply follows your instructions and sits down.

“The same as always.” He lifts his hips again to tug his slacks down, just enough for them to not cut into his groin. “Nothing that leaves marks on me, no touching me between waist and knees, no restraints, no gagging, nothing enters my body, nothing leaves my body without my consent.”

Yeah, just like you thought. “So basically just talking. You know, you could have ‘just talking’ a lot cheaper, down at the bar for example.” You pull a chair for yourself closer to Dave, with the mirror diagonal behind it.

“I'm not here for just talking,” he says quietly with his eyes fixed on his knees.

“Oh I know, don't you worry.” You sit down now, your legs crossed over your knees and one of your high heels swaying in the air just between Dave's spread legs. “Next: safety. Repeat the rules for me, will you?”

He looks up at you and sighs. “We use the color system. Green means more, yellow means keeping the intensity, red means stop.” He likes the simplicity of this system, appreciates it at home, and loves the way Carol loses it whenever he keeps her on yellow for a little too long. But he doesn’t like to be the one using it himself.

“Good. What else means stop?” Your leg is slowly bouncing up and down and Dave's focus shifts to the pencil thin heel for a moment.

“The… the safeword. Helsinki.”

His eyes meet yours again. Dark ponds of raging brown, the storm behind them perfectly contained, for now. “And…?” you prompt, prodding him a little bit with the sweetness in your voice.

“And there's no shame in using my safeword. Or not using it if I'm… feeling good.” He almost chokes on the last words. There is shame in the whole situation, no matter how he looks at it. But you smile again and this one part of him is relieved. He did good, fuck.

“Good job, you remembered,” you praise and the shiny leather of your shoe ghosts along his calf. “Let's start then. No touching yourself or me and no talking unless I tell you to. Got it?”

“Yes, ma'am.” He never sounded less enthusiastic than now. His pretty mouth curves into the tiniest scowl and he looks a little more handsome like this. In another life you two could have a lot of fun. Real fun. Fucked up fun.

In another life you might kneel before him and beg for some peace of mind. He could be the therapy the therapist needs. But not in this life. Because in this he was the one needing peace of mind and you were the provider.

“Now, Dave, I want you to take a deep breath and look at yourself in the mirror. Right into your eyes.”

He obeys. When he meets his own gaze through the mirror the scowl becomes more prominent. You will let him sit with his own thoughts for a minute or so. Enough time to recap your last sessions with him.

Pretty quickly into your business relationship with Dave you found out about his history with the military. No details really, you just knew that he had served for several years. Being degraded on a daily basis in your forming years does something to the brain. And it surely did something to Dave's brain because his tough outer layer cracked beautifully for you as soon as you called him a ‘weak fucking loser’.

And that was all that you did since then: humiliating him, watching him turn from the hard and controlled man into one who is struggling to loosen up and finally a man who spits out ‘Helsinki!’ and flees from the scene with a raging boner. He is the weirdest customer you have. Because his requests are so tame, so small scaled for what you could do and for what he could really take.

But all you had to do was calling him names and having him palm himself through his pants. You are not exactly complaining, he paid you as much as the guys who go the whole nine yards. Dave makes you work for your money though. It is a fight, every time.

You see it in his face, he is fighting right now, while he stares himself down through the mirror. A fight he can never win. His upper lip twitches, like he is going to growl at his own reflection any moment. Oh, it is clear as day to you, he really needs this session.

You might need to switch things up a bit, you want your customers satisfied after all. And the way he glares at himself tells you that he needs more today.

“What are you thinking, tell me.”

Your voice pulls him out of his spiraling thoughts. It’s sweet like honey but also sticky. He knows that your mouth is a sugary trap. Every word and gesture and touch a carefully laid out crumb to lead him to where you want him: staring up at you, doing whatever it takes to get your sugar lips to smile at him.

A little nudge of your heel against his thigh. A little harder than it had to be to get his attention. He doesn’t like that he likes it.

“Whimp,” Dave says with heartfelt disdain.

“What else? And keep looking at yourself.” Your heel digs a little more into his thigh and you can feel the tremble of his muscle beneath his slacks. He sure was a runner, you think. Thick thighs look so pretty with a few streaks on them. But no, no marks. “You can tell me everything, you know?”

Dave swallows thickly, the soft velvet of your voice is making his throat tight. He's trapped, caged in between your shiny stilettos and your mouth. His thigh throbs against the thin heel.

He takes in his reflection, the man in power, in slacks and a crisp white dress shirt, in polished shoes. A high heel prodding him. His fingers clutching the armrests. His face tight and sour. His wedding ring glinting.

“Cheater.”

You hum, pleased with his answer and gracing him with a small smile in return. So he is in a relationship. Good, this would make it easier. For you.

Your foot moves, the pointy heel being exchanged with the flat of the sole, pressed against his inner thigh. You drag it up the seam, just a little bit.

This is breaking the ‘no touching’ rule. And yet, he endures, fighting his silent internal fight.

Interesting.

“What’s your color, love?” You tilt your head to the side, enjoying how Dave’s nostrils flare at your audacity. He is defying the sweetness of your words. But he wants more of the stickiness. Just a little bit. It won’t hurt, right?

“Green,” he grits out. Fucking whimp, cheater, loser, failure, he tells himself silently through the mirror. Your sole moves higher now, the pointy tip already indicating towards your final destination.

Green. He wants more, he will get more. Your shoe slides higher and leaves a trail of dusty dirt on his clean pants. He will hate that, you know he will, because you would be pissed off, too.

“Are you not embarrassed, Dave? Sitting here, paying money for this? What would she say, if she knew?”

His eyes snap from the mirror to you, the corner of his lips move into another scowl. The wolf would be baring his teeth soon.

You tap the sole of your shoe against his crotch, just enough for a little sting that lets him jump slightly. Dave looks at you, stunned. Such a pretty sight.

“Oh what's with the attitude now? Did I say you could look at me?” You smile at him, the tip of your tongue running along the edges of your teeth. “Do you think you deserve it, looking at me, dummy?”

His eyes widen and his mouth opens, ready to protest, to call this off, ready to show you your place. But the only thing leaving his throat is a choked sound. Probably because you keep rubbing your foot into his groin, pushing into the not-so-soft-anymore softness.

“Eyes back on the mirror.” Another quick rap, sole meeting joined seams, another jolt and, oh yes, a moan, finally. The walls with their expensive satin tapestry greedily drink down the throaty sound. “Now.”

Your command has nothing of the powdered sugar quality anymore and he obeys. Who even is he, he wonders for a moment of clarity when he meets his own eyes through the mirror again. A stupid man, growing hard under the shoe of a stranger, a stupid man with a loving wife at home. A stupid man with guns hidden all over town. Growing hard.

He looks into the mirror, feeling detached from his own reality. He watches the shiny shoe move between the thighs of this man in the mirror, he sees the stomach of the man tense under his dress shirt, he notices how the man's mouth opens. He hears him groan, this man who looks like himself.

“God, are you seriously turned on by this? That's embarrassing. No wonder you pay me for it instead of getting it at home.” You love being mean for money and you love how Dave writhes beneath your high heel and squirms under your gaze. “Do you like this? Answer me, dummy.”

“Yes.” You only get a single hissed word as an answer. Adorable.

“Yes what?” you hiss back, applying a little more pressure to the bulge showing so beautifully.

“Yes, ma'am,” he snarls now. The wolf is showing his teeth and you're gonna pull one out. You are the only one allowed to bite in this arrangement.

“Christ, do I have to spell it out for you, stupid?” Your foot drops lower, right over the tight little package nestled under the thick, elongated dick outline. The pointy shoe tip slowly pokes into the squishy warmth of Dave’s clothed balls. His breath hitches. “Yes, ma'am, what?” you prompt him, the sugar returning to your words.

“I… I like this, ma'am.” His eyes are still glued to the picture in the mirror and he seems to register that this is him. The visual of an expensive high heel pressing against balls matches the thrumming, stingy feeling of pain in his own slacks. And another thing belongs to him, besides the pain. The jumping hard-on, right above this damned shoe.

He swallows thickly, his blunt nails digging into the velvet of the armrests. “Fuck. I like it,” he stutters, staring at his face, like he is seeing himself for the first time. Like he recognizes himself. His stormy eyes become a little calmer, the silent internal fight becoming more quiet.

“There we go. Good job.” You pull your foot away from him and lean closer, elbows to knees, one finger coming up to his chin. He just now notices that your nail polish matches your lipstick. The color would look good around his dick. In another life.

“Look at me,” you croon, laying out your trap for him again. The pad of your finger so warm and gentle under his chin, guiding his eyes to yours. You're smiling, red stretching over white, he did good and his cock throbs against the zipper. He’s wagging his tail for you.

“Good boy.” You lean closer and he can smell your perfume, the mint and vodka on your breath, your amber-scented dominance tinted in black and scarlet. The sweetness of your praise coats his tongue and he swallows it down, to make it a part of him. A little secret part on the inside only he knows about. 

“Color?” Soft, alluring, a trap made for him to curl up in.

He takes a moment to think, but not too much. The thinking part of his brain was already beginning to shut down. “Green,” he rasps with his eyes fixed on the way your eyebrows dance when you smile again.

“Good. Now, I have a question for you.” Your thumb rubs against his chin, just enough to feel the day worth of scruff beneath the digit. “Will you take your cock out for me? Let me see him?”

Gentle eyes, soft words, tender chin scratches. You have his tail wagging. Slowly, slowly you are domesticating him into a dog, one praise at a time.

Dave nods his head. There’s no harm in showing his dick. That doesn't make him a cheater, he tells himself. Maybe he could make you smile again, he knows he has a good cock. Good balls too. Maybe you could squish them again. Just a little bit.

“That's a good boy. Show him to me. Show me how hard I make you.” You lean back in your chair and watch Dave hesitantly fumble with his belt, then top button, then zipper. He still has a little fight left in him. You would be concerned if not. A man like him will never give up completely, that is what makes him so interesting for you, so much fun to play with.

The teeth of the zipper hiss, the fabric rustles when he pulls it over his ass and down his thighs, over his knees. He looks a bit disgraceful like this, sitting in the velvet chair, slacks pooled around his shoes, tented black briefs, looking at you expectantly. You would have let him take his shoes off and fold his pants if he wanted. But he chose to be… excited. And a little impatient. Truly adorable.

You move a little closer again, inspecting what you can see so far. You never saw his dick and usually you are not too keen on seeing your customers’ genitals, they were just extensions, more of the canvas you like to work on. But since Dave always made a fuss about decidedly not showing signs of arousal you became curious. Out of professionalism, of course.

It was looking good, the tent. A thick head pressed against the cotton and crowned with a now black, later milky stain.

“You’re leaking? For me?” You sound like he presented you with a bouquet of flowers or a painting he doodled with crayons. You reach out, your fingers stopping shy before touching the wet spot. You look up at him, a glint of horror in his eyes. No touching, with your hands. “Is this okay?”

A head shake and a dry swallow, then he finds his voice again. “No. Ma'am. I’m sorry.” You touching him would be cheating; in his head this makes sense.

“That's okay, don't worry.” You purse your lips, tapping a finger against the red on them. Then you hold out your hand, palm up. “Lend me a hand?”

Dave hesitates. His dick protesting with stirs against the briefs, not caring about who would touch him and how. He puts his hand in yours, trusting that you would accept his limit.

And you do, of course, you're a professional. Which means you know how to work your way around limits and how to stretch boundaries. You guide his thumb to the wet, glossy spot and rub the pad over the fabric, once, twice, until Dave grunts from the tingling friction.

“Let me know how you taste,” you coo and lift his thumb to your mouth. You open it wide, your tongue sticking out, reversing the roles but he still is your wolf in a dog costume. His eyes glint and for a second you can smell his dominance, too, lingering under the scent of his precum.

Two beasts who recognize each other, just for the fragment of a second, as you look into each other's eyes. But only one can be in charge tonight. You lean in and take his thumb into your mouth. Deeply. You sink down until your lips leave a red lipstick print around the base, one half on his palm, the other half on the back of his hand.

He tastes salty, with a sharp bite to it, just like the man himself. He presses his thumb deeper, can’t resist to have the upper hand with you just once. Your pussy clenches. She likes him.

Oh, in another life, you would let him wreck you. But not now. You suck his finger until you can’t taste his precum anymore and pull off of him.

“Kneel.”

He huffs and his brows draw together. “What?”

“Wrong answer, stupid.” Your foot snaps up, sole pushed against his hard dick, pointy heel somewhere in between his balls. “Try again.”

There it is again, the storm in his eyes. He is so much fun to work with, so easy to rile up, always keeps you on your toes. The same toes that feel Dave's cock throb through his briefs and the leather of your shoe. You move your heel from left to right, just enough to make him squirm and hiss.

“Yes, ma'am.” That's what he says but it sounds a lot like ‘fuck you’.

You laugh at that, sit back in your chair and put your foot back down on the ground. “That's more like it. Come on, chop chop. On your knees.”

He does as he is told. Growling and glaring, avoiding his ridiculous reflection in the mirror, of a tough guy with his pants around his ankles and leaking like his cock is drooling for you. Dave finds himself on his knees as he sinks into the thick carpet. Your feet are right in front of him, he catches a glimpse of his face in the glossy black tip of your heels. He looks twisted, but unmistakably like him.

“And now: touch yourself. Over your briefs. Nice and slow. Eyes on my shoes.” You place one foot on his thigh and his eyes follow the movement without moving too much. “You seem to like them?”

His hand, the one with your lipstick on it, runs along his length, slowly, calculated, avoiding his sensitive tip as he does. “Yes, ma'am,” Dave mutters and squeezes his girth like he's trying to soothe himself because your voice doesn’t do it anymore. It's all harsh now and not sticky-sweet.

Your heel gets pressed into his thigh, the thin end biting into his skin. “Yes, ma'am, what?”

His jaw ticks. His thumb is soothingly rubbing over the head of his cock, knuckle pushed against the underside. “Yes, ma'am, I like your shoes.”

“I thought so. You got so hard for them, didn’t you?”

He takes a deep breath and keeps on palming himself, a steady back and forth. The wet blotch grows. “I-...” He breaks off when you start caressing his balls with your sole. Back and forth. Front to back, in the same rhythm as he strokes himself. “I did get hard for them, yes. For you, ma'am.”

He just wants some of that sugar back, some of those honeyed words from you. He's on his knees already, what else could you want?

You let him kneel and watch his hand move, register his hip twitch. You brush your fingers through his hair, just a light pet.

“Take him out now. I can look at him, right?”

He nods his head and tugs himself out. Caught behind the waistband you get a first peek. Girthy, a stunning color, a dusty rose turning into an earthy pinkish-red, cut, a clear bead of precum forming over the slit before it runs down and spreads over the already glistening skin.

With another tug he pushes his briefs under his sack, forcing it up nice and tight, right under his cock. He has a slight curve, too. Fucking perfect. Your pussy clenches again.

Dave's hand fists the base, some of your red lipstick transfers to his shaft. The closest your mouth will probably get to him. Such a shame, you think, swallowing down some pooling spit, because you really would like to get a sore jaw from sucking him off.

“Now that's a pretty cock you got there. Hold still.”

You crouch over to Dave and place your palm over his hand, giving his dick a good squeeze with Dave's hand. 

“I won't touch him, I promise. But let me guide you.” Molasse thick, that's how your voice sounds. Almost too thick to be swallowed down. 

He manages to do it nonetheless. Ignoring that this is out of the comfort zone of David York, the husband and father. But oh, those words taste delicious for the man who knows rules and laws but lives outside of them. 

His own hand relaxes under yours and with the first stroke another yes, ma'am drips from his lips. 

This is a strange feeling. He guided several hands in his life, taught them where to rub, how to twist, how much to squeeze. But having his own hand touch him with those foreign movements was… new. Sexy. Frustrating too, because you seem to know exactly what not to do.

He looks down between his thighs and sees two hands moving and he really tries to imagine it was just your hand. He wants your touch. Christ, he wants your mouth on him, too. And you would do it, you would gladly accept the proposal and call him a good boy again. But he can't. He can't do it, it's not the right thing to do. He feels his wedding ring slide up over his tip and back down. No, he can’t have you touch him directly.

But he can give in to you a little more. His dignity hangs over the other chair, taken off together with his jacket right at the beginning. You might as well make him your bitch. He throbs against his fingers and Dave asks himself if you can feel it, too. Without being able to stop it his hips buck into his fist, your fists. You were moving his hand so goddamn slow, he needs more. More pressure, more speed.

“Are you not happy, love? Are you being ungrateful?” You slow down even more until your palms reach his top again. Dave has lubed himself up so nicely with his own precum, you can feel it spreading between your own fingers. With a tight grip you flick and twist, like screwing open a bottle, twisting the cork out of a bottle of champagne. 

Dave’s body jerks as do his hips and he moans again, feeding the soundproofing of the hotel room the delicious sounds he makes.

You tut at him, smirking and mocking and twist his hand over his cock again.

“Oh, so you are ungrateful? You have to ask for the things that you want, dummy, That's how this works.” You loosen your grasp and straighten your back, cross your arms and then your legs until the sole of your shoe hovers over his balls. “So…? Are you ungrateful?”

He shakes his head and fights the urge to rock himself against your shoe. More precum gets pushed out of his slit, he fucking aches. He could just spit out the safeword and jerk it in his car, like usual. But he is too proud for that. He is going to finish what he started here, in this room with you.

“No, I’m not. I just-...” he breaks off when you start bouncing your foot, knocking against his balls with almost gentle pats. Dave clutches his girth with a groan, his hips bucking forwards again. “I…,” he strokes himself once, hoping you would get the implications without having to put it into words.

A finger hooks under his chin again, he can smell himself on your skin. A nudge and he looks at your face again, the way you bare your teeth at him in a graceful smile doesn't cover up the authoritative tone hidden in your sweet words.

“You already did so good today. But I want you to do one last thing, yes?” You rub your finger under his chin, smearing some of his sticky precum over his skin. “Will you try it, for me?” 

He'd do a backflip, if you kept up the carrot and stick game for a little longer. 

And then you do it again, showing him the treat he could have if he only was a good enough boy for you. You start licking your hand clean. Languid laps with the flat of your tongue, starting with the little finger.

“Love, I want you to fuck your hand. You don't have to hold back.” You suckle on the tip of your finger before licking Dave's salty residue off of the next one. You stop at the tip, twirl your tongue around the fingernail painted all ruby and smile at him. Just as if you were licking an ice cream spoon clean. 

“Just make sure to keep your hand still and fuck into it.” Now middle and index finger. Your tongue runs over both of them before you put them into your mouth. In and out they go, sluggish and without hurry, you hum at the taste like it's the sweetest cream. 

And then, instead of doing a backflip, Dave starts moving his hips. His eyes glued to your mouth and the red of your lipstick transfers to your fingers before it disappears in the dark, tight, wet cavern of your mouth. 

His hand doesn't feel anywhere close to what he imagines your mouth does. Dave is just glad that he can finally care for his aching boner. With every thrust, in sync with your fingers sliding in and out between your lips, his balls slap against the leather sole of your shoe. It stings, but it stings good. He didn’t even know he liked this before tonight. Before your expensive stiletto pressed and rapped and pushed into them.

He ruts his hips faster now, not matching the speed he needs, but he makes it up with squeezing himself hard. Soft squelches come from between his legs now with every back and forth. More noises for the thick carpet and walls to swallow, never to be heard again.

You’re sucking on your thumb now while Dave's clutching himself harder, hips thrusting in a relentless pace. He fucks his hand like you told him to. 

He looks so perfect in the mirror, that little piece of ass that you can see from your angle. Clenching and unclenching, the movements draw you in, hypnotize you. The perfect cream-white canvas for blotches of red and sprinkles of violet, for scarlet streaks, oval imprints of your teeth even. 

You lick your lips when his thighs start trembling. How good he would look if he fucked himself on your strap-on. In another life, you muse and press your thighs together. The sound your thumb makes between your lips resembles the one that will come from your wet cunt later, when you're at home again. With Dave's salty taste in your mouth and a girthy vibrator, one to match the size of his cock.

His eyes meet yours again, just for a second before they dart down to your tongue again when you start licking your palm. He's still in there, the hard man, the one who's fighting against himself, the one who probably whispers insults inside his head. You can see him in that short moment, somewhere swimming in the stormy mahogany.

You stop licking your palm when Dave winces after snapping his hips harder into his hand and his balls against your sole. He’s at his personal limit.

“Almost there, love, hm?” Another lap to your palm, seemingly unbothered by the state he is in. “Do you want to come?”

He groans and growls, his glutes are burning, his knees hurt, his fucking balls thrum. Oh, he wants to come alright. “Yes, ma'am,” he grits out.

“Say that you're pretty when you fuck your hand for me.” Your tongue flicks over your palm again and reveals your canines again. Just a wolf cleaning her silky fur.

If the need for his orgasm wasn't bigger than his pride, he would have rolled his eyes and fucked that smug smile right out of your face. But he really, really needs to come. He is so close. He can play along a little longer.

“I'm pretty when I fuck my… fucking hand for you,” he snarls and a something in the depth of his guts starts fluttering with a burning strength.

“Good job. You really are pretty like that, love.” You pull the leg of your pants up, the heavy, black fabric now rests bunched up on your knee. Dave still ruts into his hand, chasing the release he knows he can’t have that easily. 

“Say ‘I will make a pretty mess for you, ma'am.’,” you order and push your fingers through his hair, careful to not ruin his side part. A single unruly strand gets fixed with your spit-wet fingers. Nothing that leaves marks on me. Well, he can wash off your little saliva mark later.

More carrots, more sweet words and sugar touches, more of your smug but also content smile. Christ, he just wants to do something right. And you are offering him an easy fix. Dave whines and leans into your touch. Vigorously he pounds his hand, his balls trapped between his waistband and your sole and it all feels so warm, hot, his pulse beats in his ears and throbs in his straining cock. “I will make a pretty mess for you, ma'am. Fuck. I need to move my hand.”

His big browns look up at you, same parts furious, pleading and desperate.

“Say please,” you chirp and tilt your hips to feel the middle seam of your pants pressed against your clit. “Be good, say please and you can come for your ma'am.”

“Please. Fuck, please!” he barks as he steps into your honeyed trap you have laid out for him from the beginning. He is stuck in it knees first, tail between his legs, barking, howling, wagging. How to catch a wolf.

“That's my good boy. Go on, you can come. Make a mess.”

He did good, thank god. Dave starts moving his hand, jerking his cock hard and fast, his teeth sink into his flew to bite back a loud howl when he feels himself coming.

It is beautiful to watch for you, how his eyes roll back slightly, how his hand moves so fast that the smacking sounds are like a rapid fire, how he thrusts a few more times into his tight fist until he squirts his thick creamy cum all over. It feels hot on your skin, like molten wax poured over your shin, down to your foot and finally your high heel.

You moan in unison with Dave. You never are above feeding the soundproofing some of your noises as well. An offering to the gods, to keep you blessed with men like Dave.

He continues to stroke himself, choking on a few whimpers, milking the last remnants of cum out of him. His wedding band isn't shining as much now, all dull and foggy with his seed dimming the golden hue. His hand trembles, his runner thighs tremble too, his briefs, still tucked under his balls, are ruined and he slowly, slowly loosens his hard grip around his cock.

“Love, you did so good. That wasn't so hard, was it?” His cum starts running down your leg now and you both watch it for a moment. 

“I'll get you a tissue,” he mutters breathily, ready to finally get off his knees and gain some dignity back.

“Nuh uh. Clean up without tissues or towels.” Nothing enters my body without my consent. He looks at you and scoffs out single disbelieving laughter. You shrug your shoulders. “Listen, you came this far. You can be a coward and use your safe word. Or you can take responsibility and clean up the mess you made. It's an easy task.”

You are right. It is an easy task, compared to the mess his life is. It's easy. It's easy. It's easy. He leans forward and swallows, thickly. He looks up at you and sticks his tongue out. It's easy. 

You lift your leg up to his mouth, nodding your head, smiling, baring your teeth like a docile pet wolf. Dave's tongue meets your skin, smooth under his slick, powdery scent under his salty stench. He licks a stripe from your ankle up your shin, then another one and another one. Slowly. It's easy. One lick at a time. Fixing the mess he made.

His clean hand holds your foot, nestled in your stiletto, and he laps his cum from the bridge with shorter strokes. 

Dave doesn't flinch away from his own taste, he’s licked his own hands clean often enough to enjoy it to a degree. A form of cannibalism, eating his young, feasting on his own potential.

He cleans your skin, lifting your foot higher and his tongue pressed into the small gaps between the leather and your toes. You pet his head again, humming, purring under his ministrations. Dave's lips purse half above the leather and half above your skin, a small kiss before he sucks his cum out of the tiny gap.

It really is easy. He licks over the glossy black, leather and salt coating his senses, another sugary good boy in his ears and in his hair your claws graze over his scalp. 

A few more licks and kisses and the creamy white has disappeared from the shiny piece of leather. He can see himself in it again. A twisted image, but unmistakably Dave.

He rubs his spit into the smooth animal skin, you can wash his mark off later if you want. He's done. With cleaning and with this. It's over, for tonight at least.

He lowers your stiletto onto the thick carpet again and offers free sight to his spent cock, heavy and sticky. No more wagging, no more dog. He's back to being an equal.

“You did amazing, Dave. Really good.”

Your hand falls to his shoulder, giving him a gentle pat before you rise to your feet and over him your hand to pull him up. He takes it, groaning quietly when his knees crack. Dave feels a little shaky, or maybe more shook than shaky. But he feels good, lighter, loose. Not even ashamed.

“Can I get you anything? Something to drink, something to eat?” You don't even wait for his answer and turn to the minibar, pulling out a cold water for him.

“No, thank you. I'm good. I'll just take a quick shower.” With a thud his shoes land on the floor as he kicks them off. His slacks follow, then his damp briefs.

You watch him undress, amazed and attracted to his confidence and nonchalance, attracted to what lies beneath Dave's clothes, too. In another life you two would be a great match. 

“Do you want me to wait for you?” You turn towards the minibar again, looking for something else. There it is, a kitkat.

“You don't have to, but thank you.” Dave smiles at you and shrugs his shirt off his shoulders. He holds out his hand now, naked in front of you and not bothered by it. Smug. Big dick energy and he can afford it.

You shake his hand, sucking your bottom lip between your teeth for a moment. “Until the next time then. Take good care, Dave.”

You smile at each other, the possibilities of being reckless crackling between you, but then he lets go of your hand and turns his back towards you, heading into the bathroom. When the water starts running behind closed doors you take his shirt from the pile of clothes and nuzzle into the fabric. It's a good smell. Masculine, of course.

Slipping a few fingers into your pants and deeper, behind the elastic of your lace underwear and still deeper, dipping them into your sopping pussy, you inhale his scent deeply, clenching to the thought of his tongue on your skin.

You treat yourself to a moment with your fingers buried in your cunt before you pull out again. You write your name on the inside of his collar, invisible ink made out of your slick, setting a scent mark, a last reward for this good boy. 

When Dave enters the room again later you have disappeared, in thin air, no trace of you is left. But something churns inside of him when he gets dressed. 

Later, in his car, it clicks. Pussy. It smells like pussy, right in front of him. You god forsaken menace. Of course you had to have the last word. Marking him, mocking him, making him hard again. And of course your pussy smells delicious. Sticky sweet. He groans and adjusts himself, driving home a little faster now.

The house lays in silence when he steps over the threshold. The girls are fast asleep, he checked it immediately with a peek into their rooms. Carol is asleep as well. Soft and warm and plush under the blanket, curled up on her side. Dave kicks his shoes off and steps out of his slacks and briefs. They are still damp in the front, from the precum you urged out of him. But the shirt stays on. 

He slips under the blanket and pulls Carol closer, her perfect ass against his already half-hard cock. A hand gently kneads one of her breasts, the other one tugs down her pajama pants. 

She's awake in no time, whimpering when he grinds against her rear and lets his dick glide between her ass cheeks.

“Therapy was good?” Her voice is so soft, always sweet for him, never harsh, rarely ever does a no come from her.

“Yeah. Missed you…” he mumbles into the crook of her neck, biting and pulling on her skin until she winces softly.

“Dave-...”

He pinches her nipples and she winces again. A waft of your pussy hits him and he breathes it in deeply.

“Color, baby.”

“What?” Carol chuckles, not yet believing that she’s about to be fucked by her always loyal, always loving and caring husband.

“You’ve heard me. Give me your color.” His cock now slides between her legs and through her folds. He’ll slick her up real good, leaking already with a quiet thrumming sting in his balls. Carol’s pussy feels as good as yours smells.

“Green,” she gasps and rocks back against him.

“Good fuckin’ girl,” he growls before biting the flesh over her shoulder blade and pushing into her.

When Dave finally is satisfied, soaked in Carol and him, she rolls on her back and watches him get a warm towel for her. Whatever this therapist did with Dave, it did wonders. He should go more often.

thank you for reading! and remember, kids, comment or reblog to show me I've been a good girl and did a good job, please and thank you

find my Dave York masterlist here

find my general masterlist here

more a/n: I'd probably suck as dominatrix, shout-out to all the bad ass professionals and hobby dom(me)s out there, you are amazing and I'm literally on my knees for you

dividers: @/saradika-graphics

[itwasntimethatdidit40]

A quiet neighborhood - Chapter 1

Pairing: Neighbor!Dave York x f!reader Words count: 5137 Rating: + 18, MDNI

Series Summary: In a quiet neighborhood where nothing exciting ever happens, your neighbor Dave is definitely a guy who catches your eye. What could he be hiding under his perfect exterior?

Chapter 1: We start to enter this neighborhood and the trouble begins 👀

Tags: POV second person, reader is female with female genitalia, wears dresses, has hair that can be tied up in a bun/ponytail, no other description is given, she doesn’t blush. smut, angst, kissing, dirty thoughts, infidelity, kinda Desperate Housewifes coded (uh, don’t judge, I love it), easter eggs in secondary character’s names (so you can have fun guessing which series/film they come from 👀), neighborhood dynamics, Carol, Molly and Alice are there. Mention of food, alcohol consumption, some reader's thoughts marked in italics and I think it's all for now. A/N: Here we are! I'm so nervous to post the first chapter of this story! I take it for granted now but: English is not my first language, I tried to proofread as best as I could so I hope there aren't too many mistakes. I don't have a beta, so it's all my fault, sorry. Let me know if you want to be added to my taglist, thanks to anyone who reads, I really hope you like it 🥹

And of course let me know what you think! Comments and reblogs are so much appreciated and they literally keep me going and try even harder! If you want to give me some advice, go ahead! ♥️

AQN - Masterlist

Your neighborhood is a quiet place. 

 White picket fences, well-kept gardens, plenty of block parties to attend, everyone knows each other and nothing ever happens. 

As a child, when you stayed at your grandmother's house who lived here, you didn't have the exact perception of how unusual and picturesque it was, like something out of a postcard.

It just made you feel safe and there were lots of kids to play with, so it was always that special place you hoped to live when you grew up. You lived a short distance away, with your parents, your grandmother would often pick you up after school and you would stay at her house until your parents got off work. You could say that you spent more time here than you did in your actual home. So when your grandmother died and left you this house, it was a natural choice for you to move here.

If you were asked who your most peculiar neighbor is, you would definitely answer Dave York. He is unlike any of the other men who live near you, messy, careless, jovial and chatty, peaceful men who are friendly with everyone. Dave is not like that, he is rather mysterious and reserved, to begin with. He is very affectionate and present with his daughters, of course, nice with his wife, but with strangers he limits himself to a politeness of circumstance, he speaks only as much as necessary, you have never understood whether it is due to shyness or a general aversion to people.

Dave is composed, precise, neat almost in a manic way in his appearance. 

He’s been living here for while, he moved here with his family a couple of years after you, and yet you've never figured out precisely what his job is, he told everyone he was a CEO for a company and no one felt compelled to investigate further, the neighborhood gossip preferred to focus on other, more juicy topics and so it remained a vague piece of information, which no one cares about. It certainly allows him to earn a lot of money considering the standard of living he leads.

It always takes you a while to wake up in the morning and you love to spend a few minutes on the porch sipping your coffee, you love that quiet moment before a hubbub of children being dropped off at school, cars pulling out of the driveway, the neighborhood waking up and getting back to life. Dave gets out particularly early so he ended up becoming part of your morning routine.

He doesn't even see you as he rushes out to go to work and you like it that way. 

He walks out of his perfect house, with a perfect garden, gets into his perfect car with his briefcase, perfectly shaved, combed, shirt and pants perfectly pressed, understated and elegant tie, shiny shoes on which not a speck of dust ever seems to have settled. You've always wondered what's underneath. 

He lives right across the street from you, so you can often see him from your window and you linger to look at him more than you'd like to admit.

You see him out early Sunday morning for a run, black sweatpants and white T-shirt, then mowing the lawn with his T-shirt slightly sweaty from running and his hair a little disheveled. 

At lunchtime you catch a glimpse of him sitting at the table in the living room, located in front of a large window with his family as Carol serves the Sunday meal. She, too, is similar in some ways. She is refined, never vulgar, has a lovely tone of voice, she’s kind and friendly to everyone, and bakes crazy desserts. She once brought you muffins to thank you for lending her a package of sugar she had forgotten to buy and they were the best you had ever tasted. And his daughters? Polite, respectful, always adorably dressed, little princesses of manners. But it is he, above all, who arouses your interest. He draws you inexplicably, for as long as you have lived here there has always been in you curiosity to find out if he has some flaw, if there is something that stirs him inside. 

And then, of course, he’s incredibly handsome, probably the most attractive man you’ve ever seen.

The first time you saw them at a block party you immediately noticed him, he stood out from all the others men. Black hair, aquiline nose, deep brown piercing eyes, plushy lips, broad shoulders, narrow waist, he wore a suit without looking either old-fashioned or snobbish, just gorgeous. You welcomed him, Carol and their kids to the neighborhood and then went back to your friends to sip margaritas and gossip. You couldn't take your eyes off him though; he was like a magnet that kept attracting your gaze.

There's nothing wrong with admiring someone from afar, is there? you tell yourself when you feel your cheeks warming up for him.

You always liked his confident but never cocky demeanor, his gestures are always measured and graceful, at parties when he talks to someone and is next to his wife he holds an arm around her waist never conveying a sense of possession but rather of protection and care. It bugs you to admit that this is exactly what you would like too.

_________________________

This morning you had to wake up earlier than usual, your boss called a meeting through an email you never wanted to receive, usually when he does it is to complain about something, which makes you want to stay in bed and call in sick. No time for Davewatching, you can't if you care about keeping your job and continuing to live in this nice neighborhood across the street from him.

You jumped into the shower grumbling, washing your hair in a hurry because you were obviously already late, and when you got out of the shower you discovered that your hair dryer was no longer working. Certainly not the best way to start the day. You cursed, fumbling in the bathroom cabinet drawer looking for a hair tie, tied your hair up in a high topknot, and sighed as you looked in the mirror to the image of a messed up you.

You couldn't do much about it, so you thought you'd put on your favorite office outfit to make yourself feel better, a dark gray skirt and jacket that you bought about a year ago. Money well spent, this suit hugs all the right spots on your body, making you feel elegant and professional, with a hint of sexiness. You feel confident. You pull it out of the closet and lay it on the bed, then look for a pair of tights to match. You rummage through your drawer and pull out at least five pairs, realizing they are all laddered. How on earth is that possible? Nothing is going right this morning. You huff, forcing yourself to wear hold-ups. Not your favorite thing to wear to work, they are certainly sexy but sitting 8 hours at your desk with silicone squeezing your thigh? No thanks. Yet this morning you have no choice.

You gather up your papers and stuff them into your bag, grab a cup of coffee adding a little milk foam that you quickly froth with a small electric milk frother, you drink it right away almost burning your tongue and then step out into your driveway heading for your car practically running, the heels you've been wearing clicking noisily on the pavement. 

You get into the car and start it, or at least try to, because it won't work. You bring a hand to your eyebrows, cursing again “Oh fuck! You gotta be kidding me!”. Your boss will have your head served on a silver platter this morning.

You get out and open the hood, to your lay eyes there seems to be nothing wrong, no smoke or other visible signs, so you think it's the battery.

You curse and get back in the car, searching your bag for your phone, your nerves are on edge when you hear light tapping on the window. You jump in your seat in fright, and when you turn around you see Dave on the other side. Great, you think. Just the situation I was hoping he'd see me in, stressed, messy, basically on the verge of tears.

You roll down the window and he asks: “You need help?” 

“Oh don't worry, I don't want to bother you, I can manage on my own,” you stammer, trying to pull yourself together. 

“The car won't start?” his voice is quite reassuring, aloof as it is.

“Yes but really, no problem, I'll call a uber.”

“Don’t be silly, let me give you a ride” you hear an amused undertone now, maybe because of your ridiculous face, you feel so inadequate and stupid in front of him, surely he thinks you're a train wreck and wants to do charity work by rescuing you as an abandoned kitten on the street corner.

You look down and see the lace of your stockings peeking out from the hem of your skirt that had ridden up too high when you sat in the car. You hastily pull down your skirt, wondering in a panic if he had noticed it too.

Your gaze reluctantly returns to him, feeling your cheeks heat up, and he seems unperturbed as he repeats, “Come on, if we don’t hurry we’ll both end up late.”

“Okay...” you whisper "well..thanks"

You get out of your car, finishing to adjust your skirt taking advantage of the fact that he has his back to you, as you awkwardly follow him across the street.

You get into his shiny expensive car almost in awe, smelling his car freshener, obviously something fancy because he’s too sophisticated to settle for something you can find at the drugstore for $2. 

It’s as clean as if it had never been used, the leather seat welcomes you, there is not a crumb or anything, this man has two little daughters and his car is immaculate.

You’ve never sat so stiff in your life, clutching your bag to your chest as if it would contaminate the car’s floor mat if you dared to put it down. 

He looks at you and urges “Seatbelt, please” and you hurry up to reply awkwardly “Oh. Yes. Of course.” and you see something shine in his eyes, a suppressed laugh, a tiny crack that disappears immediately.

You resign yourself to lay the bag at your feet and put the seat belt on, pulling it slowly, almost reverently, you feel his gaze on you and you are afraid of making another fool of yourself.

He starts the car and drives off, as you drive away from your neighborhood you try to calm down and regain control of yourself. He's just giving you a ride; there's no reason to be so jittery.

You give him directions to your office, trying to disguise your excitement as much as possible; usually you can get along just fine with anyone, but today you feel like a schoolgirl on her first experience.

You watch his profile surreptitiously as you tell him to turn right, and then left, lingering on his sculpted cheekbone, his long eyelashes, his perfectly drawn lips.

He’s so incredibly attractive your eyes almost can’t take it and so well dressed as usual, in a dark blue suit, light blue shirt and a burgundy tie with dark blue dots. 

You are almost there and a little bit sorry, you didn't feel like going to work already but now you want to sit in this car next to him until the end of the day.

When he asks you which building your office is, it takes you a few seconds too long to answer, “Oh, this one, on the right.” because you're so enthralled admiring his confidence behind the wheel.

Not only can he drive in gears, but his driving is safe, without wavering, and when he parks in front of your office you notice how he maneuvers with his open hand on the steering wheel. Sexy. You are impressed. You wonder if there is anything this man can't do.

You turn to him and whisper a thank you in a breathy voice. He looks at you and you feel his gorgeous brown eyes penetrate all the way into your soul as he replies, “Happy to help. Do you have someone who can drive you back?“

”Yes, thank you, I'll ask my coworker,” you lie, knowing that you will almost certainly have to take a bus or cab, but you don't want to give him any more trouble. 

“Okay, well, have a good day” 

“Thanks, you too”

Oh wait, there’s something…” he says, reaching your face with his hand and brushing dangerously close to your mouth with his thumb “here” He licks the tip of his finger and looks at you with his usual unflappable expression as you realize you have ridden in his car with milk foam at the corner of your mouth “you’re good now” he whispers and you would like to sink into the seat and disappear forever.

You get out of the car and walk toward the office entrance, feeling his eyes on your back, when you reach the door you turn and wave to him. He is still there, pulling up to the curb, and he gestures back to you. His car speeds away into city traffic a second later.

“Fuck,” you whisper to yourself before pushing open the door to your office and entering. 

_________________________

“Hey” you hear coming from above you as you are pulling with all your might at a plant that you don't even know where it came from and that is infesting your cyclamen flower bed. You look up and Dave is standing in front of you in your front garden, wearing the usual white T-shirt and black sweatpants he wears every Sunday for jogging. “Oh. Hi,” you say, passing the back of your hand over your forehead and then shielding your eyes from the sun to see him better. 

“So did you solve the car?” 

“Yes, thank you so much for your help” that feeling of being back in middle school when you had a crush on your classmate Josh comes alive again inside you. 

“Good. Was it the battery?” 

”That's right. I had to change it. 300 bucks! Fuck, I'll be damned.” You blather on without thinking that maybe you're not so close to each other to let yourself swear in front of him. 

Dave chuckles, even his laugh is polite and discreet but you can see a cheeky little light in his eyes along with a lovely dimple on his cheek that makes your face heated up.

"I know, they're expensive”

“Yeah, but what else could I do, I don't understand anything about cars, I’m better with plants” you chuckle trying to contain your nervousness.

“They are very beautiful,” he notes, moving his gaze from you to the cyclamens and then back to you, staring. He seems to want to say something more, his lips are half open out held, like everything about him.

“Thank you” There is a lull where you don't know what to say or what to do because he keeps looking at you with his big brown eyes that make you melt and then you ask the first thing that comes to mind "Um, are you and Carol coming to the Horowitz party next week?"

“I think so, she told me about it the other night. Will you be there?” you could almost tell you hear a hopeful tone in his voice, but you're brought back down to earth in an instant by your own inner voice. 

Stop doing this, he’s married you idiot. 

“Yes, of course.” you nod, smiling. 

He smiles back at you, “Well, I have to go now I'm glad you worked it out. If you need anything else however you can find me across the street.” 

You watch him walk away toward his home as you feel that something, at least in a very slight part, has changed between you. He is warmer, friendlier, butterflies fluttering in your stomach as you enter the house to wash your hands. You feel like floating and when you look in the bathroom mirror you see it.

The most gigantic of smiles spread across your face, your eyes twinkling.

You are beyond redemption, a complete mess.

_________________________

“Carol loves that brand”

You are at the mall, standing in front of a storefront window that is too expensive for your pocket, gazing at a pair of black leather pumps.  You turn around and see him. Dazzling in a black turtleneck and gray pants, black belt and leather lace-ups, he looks like something out of a fashion magazine. You would almost find him irritating if it weren't for the fact that by now you have to admit to yourself, you have a terrible crush on him. 

Molly and Alice greet you with a smile echoing their father “yes, that's right, mommy loves them”

You smile at the girls “I can imagine. Your mom dresses so well, doesn't she?”  And they look at you proudly nodding “she does” 

“I want to be like her when I grow up” Alice adds in her little bird voice. 

“Oh that's so sweet, I'm sure your mom will be very proud, of both of you. ” you tell her gently. 

Dave is silent and smiles softly, watching his little princesses behave with you. “Well, we've gotta go, we're going to be late for the movie” he says right back, looking a little embarrassed but as usual you think your imagination is really flying awkwardly by now. 

“Oh, what are you going to see?” you ask, always looking at the girls to trick your mind. You don't have to think about him, he's a married man, what's wrong with you. 

“Daddy's taking us to see The Little Mermaid!” Molly announces to you with her eyes shining ‘that's my favorite!’ 

“The multiplex at this mall shows old animated movies in one of their theaters on Sunday afternoons,” Dave explains ”the girls love going there.”

"Oh wonderful!" you reply "well, have fun then"

They're about to leave when Dave turns around and tells you "you should buy them anyway" You stand for a moment interjected "the shoes, I mean. They would look good on you”.

You stand dumbfounded, feeling that tingle spread through your lower abdomen again. You don't reply, but you watch them walk off into the crowd, Molly and Alice each to one side of their dad shaking his hand, Dave in the center with his beautiful hair, his broad shoulders highlighted by his sweater, a delicious butt swaddled beautifully in his gray pants, as soon as they disappear around the corner you go into the store and buy shoes. Even if they are too expensive and if your credit card could talk it would ask you if you are completely crazy. This is the measure of how screwed you are. You can't wait to wear them to the Horowitz party. 

——————————

The Horowitz house is one of the most luxurious in the neighborhood; high ceilings, marble floors, expensive furniture all over the place, chandeliers and silverware, these people are filthy rich. You used to tutor their daughter, Gretchen, a snooty little princess who grew up in bamboozlement and thought she could boss you around. Somehow you managed to win her over eventually, and since you seemed to be the only one in the neighborhood who could tame her the right way, her parents paid you good money.

At the time you had just graduated and were trying to find a job so that money came in handy. 

You say hello to Mr. and Mrs. Horowitz and jump into the fray, it's packed everywhere, and your neighbors certainly aren't begging to take advantage of the lavish buffet served poolside.

You see Gretchen in the corner flirting with a waiter and smile, shaking your head, she’s only 18 and already so flirty and cheeky with boys, at her age you just felt like an awkward and inexperienced potato with no sense of fashion and no idea how to talk with boys, you're thankful that adolescence is long over for you. Two of your neighbors, Jane and Gabrielle, are gossiping about Edie's skimpy dress and the new boyfriend she brought to the party after divorcing her husband just two months ago. They wave at you and you sit with them on poolside loungers, they’re some of your dearest friends in the neighborhood. 

“Where are Rafael and Carlos?” you ask, looking for their husbands.

Gabrielle waves her hand and says, “over there talking football with Hank.”

You’re the only one of your friends left single, after breaking up with Jesse two years ago, you decided to focus on your career. You got a promotion last year, but still no husband in sight.

You suggest to go to the bar to have a drink and they both agree. 

There is soft music wafting around, classical, very elegant like the overall tone of the party. It looks more like a wedding reception than a block party, but you know that if the Horowitz don't make it big they're not happy. You approach the bar, a nice drink will solve your nervousness as you try not to stumble and end up in the pool because of your brand new high heels, clinging to Jane’s arm.

Of course she laughs at you “honey, those shoes are gorgeous but don’t you think they’re a bit impractical for a pool party?” 

“Hey! You were the one who told me I needed to freshen up my wardrobe and wear heels more often!” You reprimand as Jane and Gabi laugh.

You've been waiting to wear them at this party all week, even doing some tests at home to make sure they don't give you blisters. 

They're the highest heels you've ever owned and yes, they’re not comfortable, especially to walk on the grass and around a slippery surface like the poolside but tonight when you looked at yourself, swaddled in a little black dress and these shoes, you've never looked so pretty. Your bank account has been severely undermined but you think it was worth it. And even though it would be lo the last thing you should want, you can't wait for him to see you.

You put on your favorite underwear underneath,  just to have that extra boost of confidence. 

You feel good, just as good as you have felt in months, and all it took was for him to notice you. You should probably feel ridiculous, but because he took away the apathy you've been feeling lately, you decide you won't. Not this time. And when you see him walk into the garden, black slacks and white shirt, no tie, the last two buttons left open, he is breathtakingly handsome.

The only thing that matters is the instant when his eyes meet yours, and they are not cold and distant, but it is as if they are smiling, sparkling with a light you have never seen in them before. 

You've kept your wild fantasy at bay until now, but you're sure that in the midst of all these people he's been watching you. 

You feel proud and beautiful until you see her.

Of course Carol is by his side, holding his arm and smiling radiantly in her cream cocktail dress.

And suddenly it all comes crashing down on you, how could you not consider that she would be here, with him, his rightful wife. She wouldn't have been missed. Yet you were so busy trying to look the best you could that you buried her in the corner of your mind, just totally ignored her until this moment. You grab the martini you ordered and down it in one gulp. 

“Hey! Take it easy, honey!” Jane says to you, raising an eyebrow. “What’s wrong with you?” 

She’s never seen you drink like that, you’ve never actually drunk like that, maybe just after Jesse left you, but it didn’t last long anyway. You shrug and smile at her. “Oh come on, it’s a party! And I don’t have to drive.”

Rafael and Carlos come over to greet you and you're left alone for a moment while the four of them go to inspect the buffet.

You try to distract yourself engaging old Mrs Threadgoode in a conversation you don't care about about the hedge bordering your houses, but out of the corner of your eye you see them approaching, her always at his side, as they make the rounds of greetings. You even try to blend taking the old lady by the arm and continuing to babble as you move behind a huge vase next to the appetizer table, hoping they won't notice you until you hear Carol's pretty voice behind you. You turn around, thinking you are doomed, as if she can read your thoughts, but there is absolutely nothing in her gaze but courtesy and grace, as usual.

It makes you even more nervous that her husband has been your constant thought for two weeks and she does not suspect in the least. 

You greet her, trying to swallow your senseless resentment, but when you place your eyes on him you feel that tingle again, that warmth invading you from head to toe, while his gaze is as enveloping and sensual as it has ever been. “You look great,” he tells you, and Carol immediately echoes him, ”oh yes, you look so beautiful today!” You say thank you, chat for a couple more minutes, and then excuse yourself by saying you need to go to the restroom. The whole time you were standing in front of him he was just staring at you, his gaze went down to your ankles noticing your brand new shoes, and you can swear you saw his mouth bend into a smile, almost imperceptible.

You still feel stupid for wasting the whole afternoon dolling yourself up for a married man.

You cross the hallway to the bathroom and see Gretchen again, deep in conversation with the same waiter, she’s leaning against the wall, running a hand over his chest covered by a white shirt and giggling coquettishly. She looks up and sees you, “Hey there! How are you?”

“All good, hun, how are you?”you reply. 

“I’m great! We need to talk later!” she shrieks at your back as you hurry toward the restroom door. You lock yourself inside in an instant and lean your hands against the sink, sighing. What the hell had gotten into you, what did you think you were doing? 

You take a couple more deep breaths and try to downplay “okay, let's just calm down, there's nothing a couple more martinis can't fix” You look in the mirror and say to yourself “now you go out, enjoy the party with your friends, then you go home and forget about this whole thing. Enough of this crap” you whisper it in a low voice. You have just finished the sentence when you hear a knock at the door. “I'm done, just a second,” you say loudly.

You don't expect the voice you hear coming from the other side “It's Dave” 

You pull your ear to the door to make sure you get it right and ask “who?”

 “Dave. Open up” Your heart skips a beat and your hand trembles on the door knob as you are unsure what to do. “What do you want?“

”To talk. Come on, open up.” 

You don't understand what you should talk about, there is nothing to discuss, nothing happened “I'm going out now,” you mumble, check your makeup quickly and pull the handle determined to avoid  him and go back to the garden to find your friends.

You make to leave but Dave pushes you back inside the bathroom “Wait a minute” You are incredulous as you look at his enigmatic smile “What is it?” 

“You bought the shoes” You don't know what he is getting at “So what?” 

“I was right. They fit you well” He smiles at you and you feel a knot in your stomach 

‘Did you need to lock yourself in the bathroom to tell me that?’ you raise an eyebrow wryly. 

The situation is so absurd that you even pluck up the courage to answer him in kind. 

“Actually, no. But to do this...yes” He leans over you and encircles your face with one hand ‘You’re so damn perfect tonight’ he whispers, before placing his lips on yours. 

You open your eyes wide as if you've been hit by a gunshot, not expecting anything like this. 

His mouth is soft and inviting, his tongue moving lightly against your lips, and you let it in, savoring a warm and delicious whiff of whiskey, losing yourself in his flavor, feeling his hands tighten on your hips. Before you know it, he has pushed you against the marble walls, caging you into his body and continuing to lick into your mouth like a thirsty man in the middle of the desert, unleashing an unprecedented storm inside you. You moan into his mouth as your arms wrap around his back and your hips thrust against his in a silent but desperate plea for attention.

Your bodies blend perfectly, it feels like one of those wet dreams you keep having at night in the privacy of your room. Him naked on top of you covering your skin with kisses that descend over your breasts grazing your nipples and then over your belly to your pussy. Him pounding you senseless as you whine and scratch his back with your fingernails feeling so full of his cock. 

He suddenly pulls back and reality collapses on you again waking you up from the stupor you've fallen into. He smiles at you again “I just wanted to tell you this,” his hand caresses your neck, his eyes fix on your breasts accentuated by the cleavage of your dress just for a moment and as he arrived he disappears behind the door again going back to mingling among the people. 

He didn't even leave you time to talk, left you standing there like a fool, wondering what the hell it all means. What does he want from you? What is going to happen from now on? Your head is empty, you brush your lips still feeling his latent taste. If you were asked who is the most peculiar man in your neighborhood, you would surely say Dave York. You would also say that he is a total threat to your heart. 

Tag list: @aurorawritestoescape @baronessvonglitter @almostempty @thundermartini @harriedandharassed @syd-djarin @penascigarette @joelalorian @pedrostories @sunnytuliptime let me know if you want to be added or removed and I'll do it right away.

[baronessvonglitter]

Halftime Show

Joel Miller, Javier Pena, Dave York, Frankie Morales, Marcus Moreno x f!sexworker!reader (lucky girl)

Word count: 2.7K

Summary: you're an escort hired for a private Super Bowl party hosted by a mysterious client and his four friends

WARNINGS: 18+ Only! Mature and Explicit, reader's work name is "Angel", reader is a sex worker, mildly dubious consent (though she does state that the men can do as they want, it's her first experience in sex work), rough sex (but no violence done to reader), group sex, threesome to sixsome, oral sex (f & m receiving), unprotected p in v sex, double p in v, anal sex & fingering, multiple penetration, hand jobs, face fucking, facial, verbal abuse/humiliation, squirting, swallowing, creampie, spitroasting, reader gets slapped w/a dick for a bit, porn without plot, you know.. all the sweet stuff.

Author's Note: another cross-post from AO3 but honestly, football is barely mentioned so if you want you can ignore the whole Super Bowl aspect. Y'all might know by now I love a little romance in my smut but this particular fic has zero romance. Reader is there to do a job and leaves having done it very well. Also.. I'm considering creating a part 2 featuring more Pedro Boys, so any input on that is welcome!

FULL MASTERLIST | JOEL MILLER MASTERLIST

MARCUS MORENO MASTERLIST | FRANKIE MORALES MASTERLIST

DAVE YORK MASTERLIST | JAVIER PENA MASTERLIST

It's your first day as an escort and you're a little nervous. Okay, a lot nervous. You never know what you're going to expect from clients, but these guys you're about to meet have been pre-screened and even had to turn in blood tests just to be considered as clients. The escort service you work for is very prestigious. You're even driven to the location by a security detail who is tasked to wait outside for you. This makes you feel a little better.

You take a quick look at your outfit before you leave the car. The rule is you show up in character and leave in character. No real names, no background stories, just a persona and an exchange of goods. Simple as that. Should be easy enough.

Taking a deep breath, you exit the car and go up to the front door.

The doorbell rings, and Dave York springs from the sofa, a little smirk on his lips. "Guys, I think she's here," he announces, and the rest of the group look up from the Super Bowl game, groaning when Dave mutes the sound even though it's just gone to commercial.

"Who?" Frankie Morales asks, swigging a beer.

"The halftime entertainment," Dave answers mysteriously.

Marcus Moreno and Joel Miller trade inquisitive glances. Javier Peña raises his brow. He knows what Dave means.

Dave brings you into the living room and you take a quick survey of your surroundings: the home is nicer than most, two stories, decorated tastefully but with an obvious woman's touch. You give him a once-over. He's forty-ish, handsome, clean-shaven.

"The wife got the house in the divorce," Dave tells you, as if reading your mind. "This is my last weekend here, so let's make it count!" He raises his glass of whiskey to the guys, most of whom also salute with their drinks. They are all eyeing you like a pack of dogs that haven't eaten in days.

Marcus, a kind-looking man with dark eyeglasses who gives you Clark Kent vibes, smiles awkwardly at you, blushing. "Aren't you going to introduce us?" he asks Dave politely.

"Angel," you give your working name, smiling at each of the men. They're all cute: some scruffy, some dapper.

Dave smirks. "I'm Dave, and these are my buddies Marcus, Frankie, Joel, and Javier." Each of the guys smiles or nods at you as they're introduced.

"I heard you guys are looking to get wild," you say, opening your winter coat to reveal your see-through lingerie. Joel, Javier, and Dave whoop in excitement. Marcus and Frankie are more reticent but can't take their eyes off you. "What do you plan on doing with little ol' me?" you ask innocently, kneeling on the cushioned ottoman in the middle of the living room. You glide your hands over your body and smile as the men shift in their seats, watching you, getting hard already at the idea of you offering yourself.

Dave is the first to put his hands on you, first on your hips then grabbing your ass. Joel, an older man with graying hair and green flannel shirt, interrupts him, rising from his seat. "Now, who told you you get to go first?" he asks in a deep voiced Texan accent.

"First? We're running a train on this girl?" Javier asks from his seat, a cigarette burning between his lips. He's dressed like someone from the 1970s but his clothes fit him well, accentuating a lean physique.

"You can do whatever you want with me," you tell them with confidence. "But of course, no hitting, no biting, no leaving marks." You are resolute on this, as is your employer.

"Hell, darlin', we're not monsters," Joel says, his eyes full of concern for you. The others chime in that they aren't into really rough stuff. Only Dave looks a little disappointed by your rule.

"I'd expect you to be more methodical about this," Javier tells Dave, rising from his seat and casting an amused glance at his friend. He eyes you up and down then reaches into your bra to cup your breast while his other hand dives between your thighs. "Christ, she's already wet. And so fucking tight. You haven't been doing this kind of work long, have you, baby?"

"You all are my first clients," you admit, your breath hitching as his thick fingers tease you.

Javier manages a small smile then looks over at the group. "You haven't thought about these guys," he tells Dave, and nods at Frankie and Marcus. "They're completely baffled by this."

"We're not, I know exactly what's going on," insists Frankie, an adorable middle-aged guy wearing a t-shirt, cargo pants and baseball cap. His innocence is palpable and quite touching.

Dave and Javier's hands are still on you, grabbing and groping. It's a good start. "I'm paying for her. I should get to go first," Dave complains.

A few of the guys (well, okay, Javier and Dave) start to bicker about it, fueled by testosterone and alcohol. Joel strides up to you, effectively taking you away from Dave and Javier. "It's kind of a shame that no one's puttin' her feelings into consideration. She's gonna be providin' a huge service for us. Least we can do is give her a little pleasure beforehand." With that, he takes you and places you on the ottoman, kneeling between your open thighs. He rips open the crotch of your lingerie and dives in, sucking on your pussy. Your initial shock gives way to thrill as you register the warm, wet stiffness of his tongue rasping your folds, your clit, not taking his time about it. Your fingers curl into his hair as you lift your thighs back. You're still on the clock, still giving a show, even if this part is currently for your benefit. With Joel's aid you manage to take the now-ruined lingerie off and are naked but for your knee-high stockings.

"Way to get the party started," Javier says approvingly. "I'm not about to waste any time." He goes to you and sits you up. You take a moment to admire the bulge in those tight trousers before he pulls them down enough to take out his thick shaft. You obediently open your mouth to accept it and he slowly moves into your throat, allowing you to get used to him. Saliva pools in your mouth as you start to moan around his dick, still exhilarated by Joel's ravishing you with his tongue. You feel a hand massaging your breast and look over to see Frankie, his puppy dog eyes wide with wonder, as if he can't believe you're real.

"That feels so good," you tell him, sensing he likes praise. He lights up, encouraged by you, and continues to pinch and pull at your nipple before sucking on it, extracting a pleasured moan from your lips before you go back to sucking off Javier.

Marcus and Dave stand back. Marcus looks flustered and Dave has his hands on his hips, making a face. He's figuring out where to squeeze in but at the same time doesn't want to share.

Meanwhile you're keeping busy with Javier's cock in your mouth, Frankie's mouth on your breast, and Joel still lapping at you between your thighs. The most exquisite feelings comes over you and your scream is muffled as you come so hard, your body spasming while surrounded by these men. It's the most sensually charged moment of your entire life.

Joel lifts himself up, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "She's wetter'n a cucumber in a convent," he chuckles, standing and trying to get the feeling back in his knees. Frankie then moves down to finger you just as Javier is on the verge of coming. Just as he gives a strangled growl, spilling his cum into your willing throat, you feel one of Frankie's fingers in your ass. You gasp and clench around him as Dave takes Javier's place. Your body is buzzing with energy, with lust.

"You're gonna earn every penny," Dave growls, thrusting into your mouth as if he hates you. You don't have a gag reflex but you pretend to choke on him, bringing tears to your eyes.

Frankie starts to undo his pants then quickly steps away. "I'm, uh, not ready yet."

"Let her take care of it," Javier says, lighting up another cigarette.

"No smoking in here," Dave warns, his eyes still on the mascara running down your face.

"Fuck you."

You start stroking Frankie, smiling at the plumpness of his cock, uncut. He's gazing down at you with tenderness in his eyes.

"Marcus, you joinin' us?" Joel asks, getting ready to pull down his jeans.

Marcus watches from the adjoining kitchen, his beer growing warm in his hand. "Maybe.. in a bit." He smiles nervously.

Joel shrugs and unzips himself, releasing his thick, veiny cock. It's all you can do not to stare at it in wonder.

"Hey, I was gonna go first," Dave says aggressively.

"You snooze you lose. Aren't we all gonna get a turn?" Joel smirks before aligning himself to your opening. "Such a tiny, perfect little pussy.. you're gonna be completely wrecked when we're done with you, babygirl..."

Your eyes widen when he begins to slide into you, but you're already slick enough to take him. You remove Dave from your mouth so you can watch Joel's cock disappear inch by inch into your cunt.

"Don't forget about me," Dave warns you, tapping his dick against the side of your face. You compliantly return to sucking him off and he grunts contentedly in response. At the same time Joel pushes in to the hilt. "Hell she's taking every inch of me," he groans. "What a good little slut she is.."

"Well shit, don't stretch her out before the rest of us," Dave complains.

"That's not a particular worry of mine," Javier smirks, getting himself ready again as he goes to your free hand, opposite Frankie, who is already hard and ready. Joel is building up a nice tempo, sliding deep inside your pussy, Dave thrusts avidly into your mouth, Frankie and Joel are watching you as you zealously prime them for whatever they want to do next.

"Oh my god!" Frankie's eyes go wide and without warning he comes on your stomach and you make a sound of surprise when you feel the warm stickiness of him on your skin. "I'm sorry," he mumbles.

"Don't be," you tell him with a smile. "Think you've got another one in you?" you wink and scoop his cum into your mouth as Frankie watches in wonder.

Dave seems upset that you keep removing him from your mouth to talk to Frankie, but Frankie looks so happy that you're not grossed out or upset. Dave grabs hold of the back of your head and rams himself in your throat. "Less talking, bitch," he growls.

You would give him a death glare but then you feel Joel speeding up, his thrusts strong, the loud slapping of your flesh fills the air. Before you know it you're throbbing around him, milking him as you feel him finish inside you. He doesn't stay long, and soon Javier takes his place. "Flip over, cariño," he says, moving you on all fours. Dave takes over from the front, Frankie strokes himself while fondling your tit. Javier grabs your ass and slides in, letting you feel every inch of him as you moan around Dave's cock. He cums soon, spraying the back of your throat with his thick white cum.

"Get in there, Frankie!" Javier encourages, pumping away none too gently as he watches your ass ripple with each thrust. "Marcus get over here and do something or you'll miss out!"

Marcus seems frozen to his spot but Frankie follows orders and you open wide to receive him. He looks down at you like you're some kind of miracle, and you make sure to look at him the same way, charmed by his good nature.

Javier leans close to you. "I'm gonna put it in your ass, cariño."

"Do whatever you want," you purr.

He pulls out of you and you feel a warm glob of saliva at your rear entrance. Javier smears it around your puckered hole and eases himself in. You gasp, fists clenching the edge of the ottoman. "Fill all her holes, boys," Dave says, watching from the side. "That's what she's here for."

Frankie pulls away from your mouth. "Let me get under you." he says, and Javier pulls out enough for you two to get positioned. Frankie aligns himself at your entrance and sinks in easily. "Jesus, you feel so good, Angel.." He thrusts up into you as Javier continues to fuck your ass. The three of you are a fusion of lust and frenzy. Joel watches, running his tongue over his lips, still tasting your sweet essence. Dave tells everyone he's next to claim your ass. Marcus has since inched closer, undeciding yet if he's going to join, or how. He's obviously hard, his eyes dark with craving.

"Marcus," you mumble as he approaches your side. "Fuck my mouth," you beg.

He suppresses a gasp but he unbuckles his belt. "I haven't.. in a while.."

"That's okay.." you smile at him, helping him pull down his pants and briefs, running your nails over his solid girth, and he immediately rises to the occasion. "You were shy before, but not now," you notice, and give his cock a couple of gentle tugs before taking him into your waiting mouth, just the tip, and letting him go in as deep as he wants.

Javier speeds up, fingers digging into your hips as all your cries fill the room. He comes, filling your ass as he grunts savagely, causing you in turn to come, clenching around Frankie who buries himself deep inside as he lets go. Once Javier pulls away Dave takes over, gripping your hips and moving you against him.

You finger your lonely pussy, unable to make yourself feel as good as any of these men have. “Oh god, I want all of you at once.. please!” You beg.

Marcus approaches you and lays beneath you as Dave moves away, scoots up so he’s practically standing over you. Joel claims your mouth and Javier lets you pump him with your fist. Frankie approaches from behind and at the same time Marcus enters you from beneath. Two men fuck your cunt, stretching you, ruining you, and all you can do is give them what they want and then ask for more.. one man in your mouth, in your hand, in your ass.. you are working for every penny just as Dave said.

You're practically dazed by the countless feelings of pleasure coming from every man inside you, the way they move, the way they taste, how their hands grope your ass or your breasts, your hips.. you're just a receptacle for them, a plaything. This allows your brain to soak everything in without having to think. Just feeling. None of them really care about your pleasure, not at this point. You're just a means to an end, and you like it. You've never felt more alive.

"God!" you gasp as you feel yet another wave of absolute euphoria threaten to take you under. You don't even bother to hold back. As soon as you come you feel them all come with you, like tiny explosions set off in a chain. You gulp down Joel's spunk as Dave spills himself inside your ass, and Marcus and Frankie throb then release, one only seconds after the other. Javier takes control of himself from you and spurts his cum onto your face. For the first time ever in your life, you squirt, gasping at the relief and suddenness of it. The six of you try hard to catch your breath, all of you taking in the moments of this night.

"I don't think I'll be able to cum for weeks," Joel says, chuckling as he pulls up his pants.

Showered and dressed, you leave in a skimpy outfit that covers more than the lingerie did, as Dave uses the escort agency's app to send you a very generous tip from himself and the rest of the guys. The guys, cleaned up and all in relaxed moods, watch the game, not even upset that they missed most of the second half. You take your money and leave, blowing a kiss to the guys.

"God damn, you hired a good one," Javier mutters to Dave.

"Let's make this an annual thing," Dave smirks. "Next one's on you, Peña."

dividers by @saradika-graphics 👑

[bitchesuntitled]

Lies, Excuses and Bullshit

Pairing: Exboyfriend!Dave York x f!Reader

Summary: A man with a double life willing to do anything to keep his obsession around, and a woman who doesn't know what she's gotten herself into.

Warnings/Tags: 18+ MDNI, go on get! Breaking up, creepy!Dave, infidelity, stalker behavior from Dave, oral(f receiving), spanking, unprotected PIV(make smarter choices), manipulation, and if there is anything I missed please let me know!

A/N: Phew, not sure what happened here. This is a first, I don't usually write darker stuff but something about Dave made it just fly out of my finger tips. This was written for @punkshort's AU August Challenge! Thank you Shortie for letting me be part of the challenge 😊 I need to shout out @beefrobeefcal @strang3lov3 @ozarkthedog and @mothandpidgeon thank you all for the encouragement and lending your eyeballs for this story! ❤️

@jay-zzle, my love, my bestie. This one is for you! 🥰❤️🥰❤️

Masterlist||AO3

divider by @saradika-graphics

You thought things were fine. Dave is the perfect gentleman. It is a complete shock to see this text from your friend. It was a picture of Dave with another woman and two little girls at a soccer game. Maybe it’s his niece's soccer game and he’s just there being a good uncle? Until the next text comes in.

Isn’t that your boyfriend?

Another picture is attached featuring Dave, his arm around the woman. Then another and another and another. More evidence to suggest he is obviously in a relationship with the woman and you are the one left in the dark on this whole situation.

You stopped responding to your friend a while ago, staring at the pictures they sent. Back and forth, memorizing every detail. The way he’s looking at her. The way his arm is around her. The way he’s touching her. The way he kissed her -  that was the one that sealed your fate of knowing you had in fact not been seeing a recently divorced man but a married one. Your phone buzzes with another text notification.

D. York: Hey baby, still picking you up at 9 right?

You glare at your phone unsure of what the next step is. Obviously he is cheating on his wife unbeknownst to you. How does somebody even handle something like this? You really liked Dave, you saw a future with him. Your relationship has been going on for months now.

After neglecting to respond your phone buzzes again with another text from the man himself.

D. York: Been thinking about you 

You roll your eyes and text him back.

You: Not tonight. Don’t feel good.

D. York: Aw you poor thing. Do you need anything?

You didn’t even have the energy to respond with this new found information rattling around your brain, pressing the button to make your phone sleep and making your way to your bedroom. You plugged your phone in and crawled into bed, ignoring the constant buzz against your nightstand as you tried to drift off. The sun was still out but you couldn’t be awake right now. You needed to shut your brain off and this was the only way you knew how.

There was a pounding on your door when you woke with a startle. The moon casting shadows through the curtains into your room. You checked your phone, seeing the multiple notifications, some from your friends and some from Dave. He’d also tried calling several different times.

D. York: Are you okay?

Did you talk to him yet?

D. York: Do you want some company?

Want me to kick his ass?

D. York: How are you feeling?

What do you plan to say?

D. York: Baby, please answer me. Getting a little worried here.

The pounding on your door continued as you checked your phone. The doorbell camera he insisted on getting for you and installed showed Dave at your doorstep holding a plastic bag, grumbling, you got out of bed and walked towards the door.

“I’m coming. Give it a rest,” you shout, hoping Dave can hear you over his loud knocks.

Sliding the chain lock you open the door.

“Baby,” Dave sighs with relief, “What have you been doing? I’ve been trying to get a hold of you for hours now!”

“I told you, I don’t feel good,” you shrug, “I’ve been sleeping.”

“I’m sorry to wake you, I started to get worried,” Dave says, looking around your living room, “I got you some stuff to hopefully help with whatever bug you’ve seemed to catch.”

You watch as he carefully steps into your space, placing the bag on the coffee table in front of your couch.

“Dave,” you sigh, “I know.”

“Know what?” Dave asks, hands on his hips and shaking his head with a smirk.

“I know you’re still married.”

You see his adam's apple bob as he swallows, flopping back onto the couch, and clasping his hands together. He stays silent for a moment, contemplating what to say next.

“How’d you find out?”

Your eyes widen, not expecting him to fold so easily. 

“A friend sent me some photos from today at the soccer field,” you murmur, trying to keep the wavering in your voice to a minimum.

“I see,” Dave says with a nod.

“You also have kids?”

Dave nods again, facing you this time.

“Why?”

“Why what?” Dave scoffs, “Sleep with you?”

“I wouldn’t just call what we’ve been doing as ‘sleeping together,’ Dave,” you say, using your fingers as air quotes when the words sleeping together leave your mouth.

“It’s really not that big of a deal,” Dave chuckles, “I get bored from time to time and like to play with someone new.”

“Your wife know that?” you ask, glaring at him. This man who you thought you knew is showing an entirely different side of himself, and you don’t like it.

“She doesn’t need to know because it’s not a big deal.” Dave sighs exasperated.

“I think it’s best if you left.”

“Alright,” Dave says standing, “If that’s what you want.”

“Yep,” you say with a sharp nod.

“Listen,” Dave says, reaching a hand towards your arm, and you slid your arm back letting him know not to touch you, and he put his hand down beside him, “Okay, well, it’s really not as big of a deal as you’re making it out to be. I like you, I like what we’ve been–”

“Dave, you’re cheating on your wife,” you grit through your teeth interrupting the spiel he was going on, and swung the door open for him, “Leave.”

—

“Fucking take it.” Dave growls in your ear, thrusting his hips harshly into you, “Just like that baby.”

Your moans fill his ears, he can tell you’re close. The way your walls flutter around his length, squeezing him tighter. He can practically taste your climax in the air around him, gripping your hips tighter and angling them so he can get deeper.

“Dave,” you sob, after a particularly harsh thrust. Fingers gripping the sheets beneath you, back arching as you continue to cry out his name.

Dave. Dave. Dave.

“David!”

Dave jumps to the sound of Carol’s voice. Looking around to see he’s in his own bed in his home, not yours.

“Honey, your alarm has been going off for 10 minutes now.”

He lets out a sigh facing his reality, adjusting the hardness in his pajama bottoms. It was just a dream. It’s been months since he’s seen you. You’ve seemed to make your way into his brain at all times of the day, conscious or not.

“I’m gonna get the girls ready but you don’t need to be late for work again,” Carol says, giving him a smile and wink. After last night, he’s not sure how much longer he can do this. He’s been trying to have sex with Carol more. Sure, she’s his wife but she doesn’t scratch the same itch you did.

He’s tried. He’s tried to be a good husband, he’s tried to be a good dad and he’s exhausted. Dave feels himself becoming more of a shell since you told him to leave.

You’ve made it abundantly clear you want nothing to do with him. He tried to reach out to you, only to have his number blocked. You disabled your doorbell camera after he left that night. You must have known he’d try and look at it on his phone, you knew he had the information for your account. Why wouldn’t he try to look?

What you don’t know is that once Carol takes the girls to school, he gets the second phone hidden in the false bottom of a shoe box in his closet that is an exact copy of your own. He can see who you’re texting, where you’re at, how things at work are going, who you’re hanging out with. It’s become an obsession to check it daily.

—

As he steps out of the shower, Carol shouts up the stairs that she’s leaving with the girls, and the front door closes shortly after. Time to start his day.

Getting dressed in his running gear and snatching his headphones from the dresser. He makes his way to the closet. Finding the shoe box with your duplicated phone.

Texts from your friends, a text from your boss and a missed call from your mom. What catches his eye the most is the notification from some jackass on Tinder. James. Scanning James’ profile he’s definitely not your type: blonde hair, green eyes, gelled back hair, and a full beard.

James, 29

Looking for a girl who just wants to have some fun, if it leads to more that’s cool too. I like hiking, graduated from Harvard, hanging with my bros, anything else hmu

Dave shakes his head as he reads the messages shared between the two of you. He scans reading hellos, good nights, sharing random facts about each other, until he stumbles upon the most recent messages

James: Hello gorgeous 😉

Hello 😊

James: So I’ve been thinking would you wanna meet up? Go get a drink or something?

Sure! 7 good?

James: Awesome! Yeah. Do you know where Sal’s is?

I do! It’s not far from my job

James: Perfect! I’ll see ya then beautiful

No. No way in hell is this James guy meeting up with you. Dave calls the office letting them know he’s taking a personal day, he has some business to take care of.

—

Sal’s is exactly what you expected it to be. Dark, dingey, and small. Not too crowded thankfully, it’s definitely got character though. The random decor on the wall is confusing. You can’t tell if this is supposed to be a sports or a punk bar with the random band posters on the wall along with sports jerseys next to them.

Making your way to the bar you sit down on a stool, flagging down the bartender.

“What’s your poison for the night?” He asks, wiping his hands on the towel he was carrying.

“Jack and Coke,” you say, slipping your hand into your bag to get your wallet out. He makes quick work of mixing the drink and placing it in front of you, handing over your card while you hear the jingle of the door.

“Starting a tab?” The bartender asks, swiping your card.

“No, thank you,” you smile as he hands your card back to you, putting it back in your wallet.

Out of the corner of your eye you can see someone standing a couple stools away. Looking down at your drink, moving the straw around before taking a drink. You take a peek at your watch to see it’s 10 minutes before you’re supposed to meet James. 

Maybe this was a bad idea, you haven’t had to do this in months. It was easier when Dave just kind of fell into your life.

“Whiskey on the rocks.”

The hairs on the back of your neck stood up when you heard the familiar timber of his voice, head snapping to look at him. Dave. His smirk as he waits on his drink says it all, he knew you would be here. Was he James?

“Are you fucking serious?” You hiss through your teeth.

Dave thanks the bartender, moving closer to you.

“I come in peace,” Dave says, sitting in the stool one away from you, “All I want to do is talk.”

“Are you James?” You ask through clenched teeth, glaring at him.

“Oh baby,” Dave tuts, “I’m not James, he’s very real.”

You continue to glare at him. Unable to force your brain to work with your limbs on moving, leaving, throwing your drink on him. Anything other than sitting here being in his presence.

“He wasn’t hard to convince to leave you alone though,” Dave looks at you with a smirk, one eyebrow raised and begins to chuckle, “One mention of snapping any finger that touches you sent him running.”

You try to swallow but your throat feels like a desert, gripping the tumbler in front of you and taking a swig. Did he… did he do something to James? Surely not, Dave wouldn’t even kill the spider that appeared in your apartment one day, scooped it up and took it outside. How could he cause harm to anything?

“Dave did you…” pausing pondering how to even ask the question.

“Did I hurt him?” Dave asks, scooting to the stool next to you and leaning in closer, invading your space and you nod your head, “No, just made it known what’s mine.”

You let out a sharp gasp at his words, arousal seeping into the gusset of your underwear, thighs clenching together at his closeness, feeling goosebumps erupt across your skin. This shouldn’t be happening but your body thinks otherwise.

“I’ve missed you baby,” Dave hums into your ear, “Don’t like how we ended things.”

The way he says it has the ice around your heart melting. You hate him but can’t help the way your heart betrays your brain at his words. Dave lets out a small growl, gripping your bare thigh beneath the bar top possessively.

“I’m staying in a hotel room tonight,” he says, the grip on your thigh becoming less and smoothing his hand against your inner thigh. Gliding his hand up, up, up. Pinky finger playing with the edge of your underwear under your skirt.

You grab his hand and pull it away from your core, bringing it to rest on your lap. Lacing your fingers with his, while his thumb rubs along your palm. You sigh, contemplating what to do. Go with him or send him packing like last time. The devil on your shoulder telling you to go with him, it’s just stress relief, it won’t- it can’t mean anything, he knows your body better than anyone else. The angel on the other side just repeating the same words, he’s still married.

In the words of your mother, if he doesn’t cheat with you then he’ll just find someone else. Might as well have fun.

“I’ve missed you too,” you confess with a soft whimper in his ear. Finally seeing him again after months of nothing has your practical sense crumbling. 

“Let’s go then,” Dave smirks, standing pulling your hand slightly to stand with him and leave.

—

Dave drove like a bat out of hell to the hotel, dragged you to the elevator and his room as if this was his last chance to have you. Clothes flying off the moment you crossed the threshold of the room.

“Dave,” you moan, his lips ghosting down your neck to your collarbone. His hands grip your ass, pulling you flush against his front, feeling his erection against your stomach.

“I’ve missed you so fucking much,” he groans, his mouth sucking the flesh of your breast, capturing your nipple in his mouth and giving it a nip. A whine escapes past your lips at the sudden pressure of his teeth, moving your body with him until you feel the back of your knees hit the bed.

Dave releases your nipple, pushing himself against you to lay back on the bed, making room for himself between your thighs. His dark eyes swimming with lust study your face. His hand comes to rest on your jaw, thumb brushing your cheek.

“Why’d you let me leave like that?” His voice barely a whisper, lying his forehead against your own.

“You’re married,” you wince hearing the words leave your throat. You shouldn’t be doing this.

“I can change that,” he smirks with a chuckle, kissing the corner of your mouth, “I’d leave if it meant you’d stay,” kissing your jaw, “I’d spend every single day of my life making you happy,” he coos, trailing his lips down to your neck, laving his tongue against your pulse point.

“Dave,” you plead, hoping to stop his words. You don’t want to hear this, it’s all lies to get you to stay. The ache between your thighs begging for more.

“Mean it baby,” Dave says with a hum, mouth traveling down the expanse of your body, “Only want you,” he breathes when his face inches away from your sex, “Looks like you want me too,” he teases.

You feel the warmth spreading through your body as he sighs using his thumbs to spread your lips apart, staring at your glistening slit.

“Oh yeah, she’s definitely missed me,” he hums, flicking his tongue against your clit.

“Dave,” you gasp, gripping the sheets between your fingers. He works his tongue along your bundle of nerves swirling and sucking.

“God I’ve missed this pussy,” Dave growls, gripping your hips tightly before fucking you with his tongue.

“Fuck,” you moan, back arching off the bed. The fire in your abdomen grows more intense. You reach for one of his hands, linking your fingers with his. His other hand moving, fingers prodding at your entrance.

“Please,” you beg, “Dave, pl- please. More, I- I need m-“, you cry out when his fingers plunge into your cunt. Swiftly curling them inside you as he moves the pads of his fingers back and forth putting delicious pressure against your g-spot.

“That’s it baby,” Dave groans, nipping your inner thigh, “Let me have it.”

Your toes curl feeling the coil in your lower belly tightening, leaning your head up to watch him. He looks as wrecked as you feel as he rapidly flits his tongue against your clit. His brows furrowed in concentration as he worked his mouth and fingers in sync for you to reach your climax, his lips shiny from your arousal. He opens his eyes to see your mouth hung open in a silent scream, brows pinched together as you pant looking into his eyes.

“Dave,” you pant, “Baby, I’m gonna come.”

Your walls clamp down on his fingers as you stare into his dark orbs. White hot heat spreads throughout your body, letting out a soft shriek.

“Flip over,” Dave instructs, moving your pliable limbs so you’re on your stomach. You cry out as he pushes his cock into you sharply.

“Fuck.”

“Shhh,” Dave tuts, “It’s okay baby, you can take it.”

You whine, it feels like he’s splitting you in two, walls gripping his length. He doesn’t give you a moment to adjust before he’s roughly snapping his hips into you.

“Make you mine again,” Dave grunts, “No one else deserves you.”

The pain quickly turns into pleasure as he works his cock in and out. The sound of your squelching pussy filling your ears as strangled noises crawl up your throat.

“God damn baby,” Dave hisses, tilting your hips up as he grinds his hips into you, hitting that spot deep inside only he’s been able to reach.

“Missed this so,” he grunts, slapping your ass, “Fucking,” another slap against your skin, “Much,” another harsh slap before soothing the marks he’s left with his palm.

“Dave,” you let out a choked sob, feeling the pleasure building, thrusting your hips back into him, “Faster.”

“Dirty girl,” Dave hums, gripping your hips again, pounding into your pussy at a frantic pace, “You gonna- oh fuck- come again?”

You can only nod your head weakly, feeling the sizzling pressure in your abdomen start to boil over. Your walls spasming and contracting around his cock. The muscles in your legs tensing before screaming out.

“Oh fuck,” Dave moans, “That’s it baby. Come on my cock. Just like that.”

Dave leans over caging you between his arms, thrusting into your wet heat a half a dozen times before his hips start to lose rhythm and going still, your name tumbling from his lips, letting your walls milk his cock feeling the warmth of his seed paint your walls.

“I really have missed you,” Dave admits slumping against you with a sigh, “So fucking much.”

He kisses your shoulder before pulling out with a hiss. You groan feeling the emptiness before he helps you up, guiding you to the bathroom.

You shower together, taking time to wash each other with delicate touches, and sharing intimate kisses before crawling back into bed with his arms wrapped around you.

You wake sometime in the middle of the night. Dave’s snoring beside you, finding your phone amongst your belongings scattered around the room, you make your way to the bathroom. Looking at Dave sleeping so peacefully from the doorway of the bathroom you can’t help feeling torn. You loved him, still do if you’re being honest with yourself, but this isn’t what you two should be doing.

You find an uber available and schedule to be picked up. Quietly making your way out of the bathroom and grabbing your things when you hear two identical dings. One from your hand and one from Dave’s bag. Slipping your clothes back on you slowly wander over to his things. Rummaging around until you find a phone, similar to yours. Pushing the button on the side you see a notification for an Uber 5 minutes away, looking at your own phone to see it displaying the same.

“What the fuck?” You whisper to yourself, head snapping to look at Dave hoping you didn’t wake him. You look around to find a pen and piece of paper.

—

Dave wakes the next morning with a smile, remembering what happened last night. Sliding his hand to where you should be, feeling the cool sheets under his palm, peeking an eye open to see the empty spot next to him.

He listens closely to his surroundings, hoping to hear the shower but is met only with silence. Frowning as he sits up, scrubbing his hands against his face trying to rub the sleep from his eyes. Looking around the room for any sign of you, taking note of your things being gone.

He sees a folded piece of paper lying on top of something on the dresser. Dave gets up to inspect what it is. His name is on the paper, sitting on top of two phones. Immediately recognizing one as yours and the other the duplicate he had made. His eyes scan the note you left, unable to believe what he was reading.

You’ll never be anything but a lying, cheating, manipulative douchebag. Figure your shit out. Don’t ever reach out to me again.

Dave’s hand curls into a fist as he reads the note over and over again. You left. You really left and this time it’s going to be even harder to find you.

He smirks, shaking his head as he collapses on the edge of the bed. You must not realize how much he loves a challenge.