#The Canes Files | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

megamindsecretlair · 11 months ago

Text

Mr. Black, Part 1

Pairing: Tre x Assistant!Black!Fem!/ Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. PWP, cursing, PIV, fingering (fem receiving), dirty talk, praise kink, dumbass reader, degradation kink, power imbalance, Tre is a boss, all consensual.

Summary: Tre is sick and tired of the countless mistakes you make while performing your work duties. You were recently hired and just trying to do your best, but nothing is ever good enough for him.

Word Count: 4,099k

A/N: Listen, Idk what happened. He's barely in 2 mins of the film and it broke my brain. That outfit and that smile was too much for me to handle! Idk how many parts this will be. Please, please consider commenting and reblogging to help support writers! And please put ages in bios! Or get blockt!

Tagging the usual lovelies, please tell me if you want to be removed: @planetblaque @browngirldominion @notapradagurl7 @honeyoriginalz @blackerthings @sevikasblackgf @henneseyhoe @miyahmaraj

Shit! He was going to kill you. You whined as the numbers swam in your vision. You desperately looked between two invoices, wondering how you were going to solve this before he found out.

Your leg bounced as your nerves unraveled the longer you stared at the documents. Shit! You were done for. Your stupid little job was over before you had even gotten started. Your bottom lip quivered. There was no way you were going to recover from this.

Tre’s heavy footsteps pounded the carpet on approach and your heart dropped into your stomach. Shit!

You pushed the papers on your desk into one huge pile that you’ll painstakingly unravel in the safety of your home. You tapped a few keys on the computer, trying to look busy. He did not need to know that you had been staring at your egregious mistake for the past half hour.

“Do you have that report I told you to do?” Tre asked, once he reached his office.

“Yes, Sir,” you said. You gave him a dumb ass, goofy smile. You handed over the report in a yellow folder. He snatched it from you, not sparing you a glance, and stalked into the office. The door slam made you flinch.

You weren’t even sure why you stuck around this job. You were recently hired to help with the background work stuff while people all around you were getting fired. Tre had been leading that charge.

Ever since you got hired, you wondered if he hated you. He barely said anything to you except to insult your hard work. Look, the workforce was hard, okay? There’s a lot of shit that school or life doesn’t teach you. More often than not, you had to hide your scrolling on Youtube for any kind of help.

Even when he was in a good mood, flashing those pearly whites and that sinful smile, it immediately froze whenever you entered the room. Your good mood would evaporate and then you were falling all over yourself trying to correct whatever the issue was.

His coffee was too cold, too black, too sweet. His blinds were up too high and he had a nasty glare. This report was wrong, that report was wrong. No, this wasn’t the one he wanted. Yes, this was the one he wanted. Run out and get some lunch. Well, you took too long, I don’t want it anymore.

It was exhausting working for the man, but some part of you wanted a crumb of his praise. Just a crumb. You could survive off of it. You knew you sounded pathetic. Your friends and family were getting sick of you complaining about the man.

Your best friend sort of got it. You snuck a picture of Tre one day and showed her. She nearly fell off of your couch when she saw him.

“This? This is your boss?”

Yes, he is seriously your boss. And he was a fucking asshole. Who else would feel absolutely nothing about firing people a few days before Christmas? Christmas! It was your favorite holiday and just thinking about all the tiny traditions made you so giddy, your heart flipped.

Person after person, box after box, floated by your desk looking absolutely miserable. You watched their tortured faces and your heart hurt thinking that all their years of service fit into one tiny box. The tinsel and ornaments decorating the office seemed like cruel mocking reminders that there would be no Christmas cheer for them.

“Get in here, now!” You jerked out of your seat. Fuck, fuck, fuck. The intercom flashed red and then turned off. You hated that damn box. Whatever happened to sending a chat? Way less intrusive and easier on your nerves.

You stood up with your heart racing. The pulse in your neck thumped so painfully, you placed your hand there to try and steady it. Realistically, you didn’t have to tell him about the mistake right now. You just needed a chance to find out what you did wrong.

You smoothed your checkered skirt suit, wiping your sweaty palms on the thick material. El Segundo didn’t get that cold, but the mornings were brutal.

You bit your lip as you approached his office door. You opened it. Tre stood over his desk, one hand on his hip and a paper in his hand. It had to be the report he asked for. You assumed that since it was so late in the evening, that he’d read it first thing in the morning. You had hoped to leave here with a little hope. Not defeated like the past few nights, still not living up to his impossible standards.

All things considered, he was damn delicious. His favorite aesthetic was black. Black shirts, jackets, pants, shoes. The only hint of color on him were his gold chains and glasses. His thick beard complimented his facial structure beautifully. It was an odd mix being both attracted to and afraid of your boss.

“Close the door,” he said.

You followed his command. Shit. You were really in it. Was it your report he was reading? Or did he magically glean that you royally fucked up a fifteen million dollar contract?

Your stomach roiled. You were going to be fucking sick.

You approached the front of his desk like a deer in headlights. There was no room for you to maneuver. It was you, the headlights, and inevitable death. Shit, would you go to jail over something like this?

You twisted your fingers as you stood there and waited for him to acknowledge you. He gave a long sigh and then put the paper down.

“Come here,” he said. His tone was so disrespectful and biting. It was insulting coming from such a pretty man with a soft, ungodly voice.

You rounded his giant desk and stood beside him. He was so huge. Thick muscles bunching the confines of his black suit jacket. You gulped and glanced down. He was looking at your report.

“What does this say?” He asked and pointed to a sentence.

“Due to the natre, er, nature, of the findngs.” Shit. This thing had so many damn typos in it. You typed the damn thing up, distracted, watching all of the people you never got to know walk out of here. Their faces haunted you day in and day out. You shouldn’t care, but well, here you were.

If he had done this at any other time, maybe it wouldn’t have affected you so much. If he fired people around, say…St. Patrick’s Day, then at least people would have an excuse to hide their inevitable drinking.

You looked into Tre’s eyes, an apology ready on your lips, but he was fuming. He was usually so calm and collected, firing people with an ice cold exterior. To see so much passion in him now…you were in deep shit. Without a paddle.

He reached across his desk and plucked out a red pen. “I want you to sit here and highlight all of the mistakes you made. And you better find them all,” he said.

Your shaking hand reached out for the pen. He held it away. “All of them.”

He held out the pen once more and you took it. Tre sat down in his chair and motioned for you to proceed. You spied the chair on the other side of the desk, but you didn’t get the sense that you were allowed to get comfortable while you did this.

You licked your dry lips and leaned over slightly. Page by page, you hunted your mistakes with the red pen. You circled all of the typos you made. Good god, there were so many of them.

Tre sat like a silent specter. His disapproving eyes burned your back as you searched the document. At the end, you were appalled that you let so many slip through. The fuck was wrong with you?

“Count them,” he said.

Shit, shit. You couldn’t handle this fucking stress. “I am so sorry–”

“Count. Them.” You glanced at him. Besides the fire in his eyes, he seemed calm and a little disinterested. Like he was already bored of this shit and wanted you to hurry up.

You took a deep breath. He was only a man. You needed this stupid fucking job, but you will not be treated like this for much longer. Fuck his praise. And fuck him. No man, no job was worth this bullshit. You were going to find a nice quiet job somewhere.

You counted the circles. Like bubbles of misery. “Twenty-four,” you said. At least your voice was strong, giving no hint to your frazzled nerves. Though, the more you thought about it, the less nervous you felt. You were so going to type up your two weeks notice tonight. Fuck this cheerless company.

“Do you have any clue what it’s like trying to do my job but all I can focus on is your shitty ass mistakes? A toddler can type better than you,” he said.

You gasped. Such a fucking asshole. “Everyone makes mistakes,” you pointed out. For fuck’s sake, you weren’t decoding international secrets. The occasional, okay this instance many, typos should not warrant a trip to the principal’s office.

“I spend more time correcting your mistakes than trying to turn this company around. The least you can do is be a competent assistant. Your job is to assist,” he said.

“All you can see is my mistakes instead of all the other shit that I do!” You fired back. Shit. His eyes narrowed and you swallowed, but you weren’t going to hold back. Whether you quit or got fired, you were saying goodbye to him so what the hell did anything matter?

“I bend over backwards to do everything for you! Do you know how many times I’ve had to fix my nails as I run around here doing everything that pops into that meaty ass head of yours? Fix your computer, get you coffee, charge your fucking phone. I was hired to do assistant work, not become your personal maid. The least you can do is treat me with some fucking respect!”

A weight lifted from your chest. You took deep, heaving breaths and felt lighter than you ever had. Even before taking this soul sucking job.

“Bend over,” he said quietly.

“What?” You asked.

Tre stood to his full height. Not quite reaching six feet, but close enough. He unbuttoned his suit jacket and then slipped it off, revealing a black, long sleeved shirt. He rolled up the cuffs.

“I’m spank that tight ass you keep taunting me with for every mistake you have on that report,” he said.

Whoa, what? “Did you not hear what I said?” You asked. You watched as inches of his forearm were revealed. Shit, this shouldn’t be so hot. But it was. Your mouth ran dry for entirely different reasons.

“Every word. Bend. Over. It’s a simple instruction to follow,” he said. The sleeves were at his elbow now.

You barely thought about it. You bent over the desk, breasts pressing into the coolness of his desk. You felt him slide behind you. His thick hands rubbed over the fabric of your dress. He squeezed the fleshiness of your ass and you softly huffed.

“Count out every mistake,” he said.

Smack! Red hot fire bloomed on your right ass cheek. “What the fuck,” you gasped.

“Count it, or we start over,” he said.

“One,” you immediately said. Was this really happening?

Smack! Shit, it really was. “Two,” you gasped again, trying to fight off a moan. Your pussy ached with each subsequent hit. And he was not going easy on you. Each smack was severe, making you reach up on tiptoes to escape it.

He wouldn’t let you. His hand found your ass in any way you had it displayed for him. No two smacks were similar. Some were harder than others. He never hit the same spot twice. Your ass was a mosaic of pain. Heat bloomed in tiny flickers. There was no way you were going to sit down after this.

“Fifteen,” you ground out. Your ass sought his hands, relished each smack he delivered. Your mind turned blissfully fuzzy. Nerves melting away until it was a tiny puddle at your feet. Fuck. You were so turned on and your panties were ruined. Soaked.

Your clit throbbed in time with the flickering heat on your ass. And he continued to smack it. Your ass jiggled after each one. Your feet scrambled for purchase.

“Twenty-two,” you cried out. Tears gathered in your eyes.

The final two smacks to your ass were the worst ones. He had been hiding that strength this entire time. He smacked you like he was truly punishing you for all of the mistakes on the report. You shuddered to think what he would do when he found out about the contract.

He had maintained a professional demeanor throughout it all. He hadn’t spoken, except with soft grunts as the force of his smacks met your ass. He rubbed your booty and you moaned from the white hot pain. How the hell were you going to get home after this?

Tre lowered the zipper on the back of your dress and you whimpered. What more could he fucking do right now?

The answer to that was swift as he pushed the edge of your skirt up and over your wide hips. He groaned with a soft, “fuck”, as he revealed your racy black panties. The lace was sheer with tiny flower designs woven into it.

“I knew hiring you was a fucking mistake. Can’t even focus on shit around here,” he said. Though it seemed like he was talking to himself.

“I thought you hated me,” you whispered. You wiped the wayward tears from your face.

“You and these fucking outfits,” he answered back. He rolled your panties off of your damp pussy. He bent with it, so his breath trailed the back of your thighs and legs. He kissed his way back up. Plump lips placed soft kisses to your thighs and ass. Pain bloomed from his recent spanking and you moaned and moved away. He straightened and pulled your hips back.

He smacked your bare ass this time. The wet sound was loud and lewd. You prayed that everyone was gone for the day. There was no way that these flimsy ass walls had good sound proofing.

“Fuuuuuck,” you moaned out.

“That’s for being such a fuckin’ tease,” he said. His hands left you, going to his own fly as you heard the zipper and the frantic huffs as he hurried to free himself.

“I wasn’t–”

“You know you were. Bending over every chance you got. Smiling every time I fuckin’ saw you. Wearing these outfits you know are not professional,” he said.

He settled back behind you, groaning as you assumed he pumped himself. Fuck, you wanted to see. You looked back at him. Oh, that was a mistake. His head was thrown back, his arms moving jerkily as he pumped his thick length with his hand.

Your pussy clenched as you watched him. You bit your lip at the sheer ecstasy on his face. You didn’t want to speak and interrupt him. While it was true that you dressed up a little more than your coworkers, these outfits were appropriate. You didn’t show unnecessary cleavage and your skirts were decent lengths.

Okay, maybe they went a little too high. But you spent most of your time behind a desk, who was really going to notice? It was better than the bland ass, off the rack looks these other girls wore. It was like they all shopped at the same, ugly ass store. Why should you be bland like them?

You were fucking gorgeous. And wearing pretty outfits made you feel beautiful and comfortable. You loved your heels. Why should you keep all that shit in the closet to make basic bitches feel nice? Fuck ‘em.

Tre rubbed the tip of his dick through your wet folds. You nearly buckled. Your knees collapsed and Tre roughly grabbed your hip to make you stand upright.

You rested your cheek against the cold desk. The coolness helped cool off some of the heat burning through you. You moaned as his tip brushed against your clit. “Please,” you whispered.

“Please what?” He asked.

“Please, fuck me. I need it,” you moaned. God, it had been too fucking long since you got fucked. Not had sex. Got fucked. You had decent situationships in the past. Sure, you had fun. But to get fucked, you needed a certain type of man.

He grunted as he shoved inside, stretching you completely. You cried out as he pulled back and shoved back in, getting his dick wetter from your juices alone. “Sweet fuck,” he moaned.

“So fuckin’ wet for me.” He worked himself inside you, pushing into the warm, wet core of you. You were a vice grip on his dick. Welcoming him deeper and more easily with every glide. His fingers dug into your hips.

“From now on, I’m checking over all of your work. If I catch more typos, that’s your ass,” he said.

How the hell could he expect you to listen when he was buried so deep inside of you, you were pretty sure with one more shove that he would hit your G-spot? You pathetically whimpered as his movements grew slippier. He slid in and out with more ease than before.

His thrusts turned sharper. Each one shoved you against the desk. The hard plane of the desk shoved into your stomach. The pain was barely a thought.

“Oh yes, yes,” you moaned.

“Takin’ this dick well,” he moaned. His thrusts increased. Barely giving you time to breathe in between each one. They were powerful and unrelenting. The desk rattled. His thighs pushed into yours, trapping you against the desk as he pounded into you. His hands around your hips were bruising. He had you slightly lifted, so your feet slightly dangled off of the ground. He supported you easily.

The minimal praise from him made your heart soar and your pussy flutter. “Oh, you like that shit, don’t you?”

“Uh-huh,” you moaned.

“Tell me you like it then,” he said.

“I like it,” you said.

“Like you mean it,” he said and gave another savage thrust that made you see stars.

The desk made an intrusive knocking sound in time with his thrusting. That’s how hard he was fucking you.

“Oh shit, I’m cumming,” you moaned. Your belly flipped as your orgasm built and built.

“Let it go, then,” he said.

You cried and whimpered as you came.

“Mhm, let it go. Let it go. Mhm, feeling all of that,” he cooed while you came, stars going off like bombs in your weak vision. Your head swam. Your vision winked in and out. You were bliss personified, cumming with a type of euphoria you didn’t know existed.

You squeezed his dick as you came. “Get that shit nice and creamy,” he said.

He continued to pound into you, fucking any last remnants of your orgasm out of you. He was so hard and thick, sliding in and out and wrenching every little sound he could out of you.

Wet smacking and the rattle of his thrusts filled the room with a harmony you wanted on repeat forever. You were creamy for him. Needy for him. Needy for the way that he could fuck you stupid and you thanked him for it.

You managed to look back at him. Again, his head was thrown back. The wide expanse of his neck pulsed with a thick vein you wanted to lick. Sweat dripped down into his shirt. His sleeves were still rolled up. He was power and strength. Thick in every sense of the word.

Broad shoulders, soft beard, and those glasses. Good god, you loved those glasses on him. That wide smile of his. His rich, midnight skin. You could spend hours licking every inch of him and it wouldn’t nearly be enough.

He was lost in you, lost with his dick pumping into you. Watching how you were making him feel, another orgasm built. It climbed its way to the surface, whisking you away to the stars again. Shooting through the universe with nothing to hold you down. Nothing to keep you anchored. You just floated like stardust around the cosmos.

“Oh fuck, please,” you moaned. You didn’t know what the fuck you were saying. You were mumbling and moaning, unaware of anything but his hands on your hips. His dick inside you. His balls slapping your clit. Your hand moved behind you seeking his body. His thrusts were too much.

You pushed against him. You didn’t want him to stop. Just for him to ease a bit. Your swollen clit was sensitive as hell. You weren’t sure if you had another orgasm in you. It was too soon and his punishing pace was going to literally fuck you stupid in a minute.

“Move that fuckin’ hand before I do,” he spat.

“But…Sir…” He was fucking the air out of you. You couldn’t breathe. “Fuck, please.”

True to his word, he grabbed the hand that you were trying to push him away with. Your left hand was twisted behind your back as he leaned forward, deepening his strokes.

It turned harsher, fucking you into the desk. He’d fuck you through it if he could. His moans turned desperate.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” he moaned. “Take this nut.”

He groaned as he unleashed his climax inside of you. He filled you with his cum. His dick twitched and pulsed against your spongy walls as his cum was fucked into you. Still he moved, still he pounded into you like he was trying to prove something.

His hips faltered as he sputtered the last of his cum. He buried himself to the hilt and a shiver ran through him. Your frantic breathing matched his as he slowly pulled out of you.

Fuck! You were fucking sore! A hundred baths wouldn’t soothe this shit. A moment later, his cum slipped out of you and you moaned. Well shit. No condom. Luckily, you were on the pill but still. You shouldn’t be so fucking horny that you didn’t talk about these things.

However, after getting fucked the way you just did, you’d happily accept his cum. Many times over.

His cum leaked out of you, sliding down your pussy and legs. He groaned, leaned down, and spread your ass cheeks just to watch.

“Such a pretty fuckin’ pussy,” he said. He pushed two fingers inside and you whimpered. He grunted one last time and removed his fingers.

He grabbed a few tissues off of his desk and started to clean you up. You hissed when he hit a sensitive spot. He kissed your ass and legs as he cleaned up. “So fuckin’ pretty. So fuckin’ beautiful,” he soothed as he cleaned.

You were a shaking mess. Your legs could not support you. He chuckled as he finished. He pulled his pants up first. You heard the slide of his belt buckle. Then, he pulled your panties up to cover your ass. Next, he lowered your skirt and fixed the zipper.

You were too weak to move from your spot. Too weak to stand up and say or do anything. You laid there in amazement. He helped you up and then steadied you while he lowered you into his chair. His chair.

He got to work, righting various knick knacks on his desk. He moved a tiny Christmas snow globe on his desk that you had brought him on the first day. He had raised his eyebrow at you, told you that you couldn’t bribe your way to a good start, and disappeared into his office. You thought he had thrown it away. You were too nervous to notice anything when you came into his office. Just his disapproving eyes and smug smirk.

He moved the report back into the yellow envelope and closed it. He turned around and rested his ass against the desk. He tapped the file with his long fingers. “Be sure to correct this. We’ll go over it first thing in the morning.”

You glanced at him. “Yes, Sir,” you said with a hoarse voice. Fuck, your throat hurt. Everything hurt. He smirked as if he were reading your thoughts.

Yeah, a merry Christmas to you too, mu’fucker.

558 notes · View notes

megamindsecretlair · 3 months ago

Note

Hey fren! ✌🏾

Whenever you got the time, can we get a nice little piece with Kofi, Tyrone, or Trevante (your pick lol) where him and his girl get into bad. It leads them to be mad as hell at each other to where they aren't speaking for like a day or two.

And our man finally gets tired of the tension and decides to make things up, but our girl is damn sure good at holding grudges so it takes him a leeettle bit more convincing to get her out of her feelings.

Also, no rush if you do decide to do this one! Love you babes 😘💜

A/N: I hope this hits. What can I say, the anon inspired me. Please note that this is not Mr. Black.

Don't Forget About Us

Pairing: Tre x Black!Fem!/ Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. Established relationship. Smut, FLUFF, PIV, oral (fem and male receiving), anal play, dirty talk, cursing, all consensual.

Summary: See ask. You reached a breaking point with your boyfriend. He was constantly gone, nose buried in work making you go to bed alone and tired and lonely. After a screaming match, you both need time to cool your heels. But not for too long.

Word Count: 6,841k

AO3 Link

A/N: It's not that I lied, it's just that I failed lmfao. I hadn't had plans to release this but well, I miss himmmm. Toss a coin to your blogger by leaving a comment, reblog, or unhinged ask.

Taglist: @planetblaque @browngirldominion @notapradagurl7 @blackerthings @logansblackgf @henneseyhoe @my1onlysenpai @darqchilddaydreamz @badassdoll @playgurlxoxo @eggnox @abeautifulmindexposed @theyscreamsannii @melaninpov @mcdesij @kholdkill @blowmymbackout @theunsweetenedtruth @monaeesstuff @cocoeffects @soft-persephone @duckiesfairy @slippinninque @westside-rot @prettypink-princesss @thadelightfulone @the-crystal-one @miyuhpapayuh @thecookiebratz @twocentuar @esachicaa @enchantedillumination @xo-goldengirl @tranquilfandomer @we-outsiiiide @hihellogoodbyebruh @babybratzmaraj @yourofficialgal @liyaah02 @mochaaahooligan @ashleykeri @harmshake @amethyst09 @ciaqui @iv0rysoap @00aijia00 @prettyisasprettydoes1306 @luckygirlszn @thecapodomme @chaos-4baby @multiversefanfics @tvchi @kittyken006 @avoidthings @makayla171

For the first time, in a really long time, you did not want to get out of your car and walk through the front door. You didn’t want to spend another restless night worrying over your boyfriend. He was such a work-a-holic and you were tired of the arguments.

The same old record scratch repeating over and over. You missed him like crazy. You wanted him warm and safe in your bed every night and you were sick of feeling guilty for wanting that. He would kiss you and make promises, but slowly, his word was losing its meaning.

You groaned and dropped your head to the steering wheel. You could not stay out here for much longer. You knew that and yet your legs felt like lead weights. You couldn’t make your body move even though your mind screamed at you to move. You honestly didn’t know how much longer you could continue doing this.

You heaved another groan and finally got out of the car, the quick beep letting you know that your car was locked and armed. You walked up to the townhouse you two shared, entering through the front door. You walked inside to the lights on and music playing somewhere in the background.

You closed and locked the door, removing your jacket and hanging it on the hook by the door. You slipped out of your heels, sighing as that particular burden was removed. You followed the sound of the music to the dining room.

Your boyfriend stood there in soft black lounge pants and a black long sleeved tee to match. It molded well to his body, showing off his muscles. He smiled, instantly lighting up the entire room with that mega-watt smile of his.

A gold chain rested against his chest and golden studs glinted in the dim lighting. He held out a glass of wine, cocking his head. “Hey baby,” he said.

You sighed, wanting to melt into his arms. Wanting to hug him and turn your brain off for the rest of the night. A surge of bitterness shot through you, coating your tongue in acid. But you swallowed it down. You didn’t want to pick a fight. Didn’t want to be that type of girlfriend.

You smiled and grabbed the glass of wine from him and took a small sip. You felt awkward standing next to the man of your dreams and not knowing what to do. Whether or not it was okay to reach across that gap and touch him.

You scooted past and looked at the dinner on the table. Steaming short ribs were covered in gravy, sitting next to a vegetable medley and seasoned mashed potatoes. It looked amazing and your mouth watered, momentarily forgetting that you were mad at him.

Tre moved around you and slid your chair out. You thanked him and moved in front of it. He pushed the chair in as you sat down and then took his seat at the side of the table. He uncovered a bowl of salad, dishing some for you into the small bowl beside your plate.

You smiled and began eating, falling into a familiar pattern. You spoke about silly things like your work and his, the crazy people there, or what your friends were currently up to. You spoke about your family and their latest shenanigans and Tre spoke about talking to his grandmother earlier.

Safe, normal topics that didn’t disrupt the nice meal Tre prepared. You let yourself breathe for a moment, soak up the rare moment that he was home long enough to enjoy this. You laughed with him and you enjoyed seeing the little crinkle in his eyes. That devastating smile.

You relaxed in the chair, taking a moment to appreciate the comfortable lull in the conversation. You swirled the last bit of wine in your glass on the table, watching the red liquid swirl.

“You want some more?” Tre asked.

You smiled and shook your head. “I should probably get ready for bed, I got an early meeting,” you said.

Tre sighed. “I get it,” he said. He looked down at your hand briefly when the shrill tone of his phone rang in the living room.

You sucked your teeth while he cursed, grabbing his phone and looking at the caller’s name. It’d be so much easier if you thought he was cheating. That you could explain away in your mind. Men were dogs, it was what they did, blah blah blah. You would be hurt, you would get over it and move on with someone who actually loved you.

But no. You had to compete with four walls and a computer screen. You had to compete with spreadsheets and wet signatures and copy paper. How the hell did you beat something like that? Where would you even start?

“I’m sorry, I thought I put it on silent,” he said.

“It’s fine, take it,” you said. You smiled and stood up, getting ready to clear the table. Tre placed his hand on yours, stilling your movements. You looked at him without looking into his eyes. Your eyes were focused on his lips, on the tight lipped grimace.

“You don’t have to do that,” he said.

“You cook, I clean. That was the deal,” you said, intentionally misunderstanding him. You pulled your arm but he didn’t budge. You sighed but refused to meet his gaze. His phone continued ringing and he cursed again, reaching out with his left hand to silence the ringing.

“Pick it up, Tre. Really, it’s fine,” you said. You yanked your arm once more and he let you go, let you bring the dishes to the kitchen. You hated doing dishes. But a deal was a deal. If you cooked, he cleaned. If he cooked, you cleaned. You packed away the remaining food, placing it in the refrigerator. You started filling the sink after plugging it, adding soap so it could bubble up.

Tre’s heavy footsteps entered the kitchen, feet tapping on the smooth tile. His massive frame took up your peripheral vision but you focused on the rising, steaming water.

“You won’t even look at me anymore,” he said.

You choked on a laugh, not expecting that to shoot out of his mouth. You bit your lip so that you could stop, so that it wouldn’t turn into theatrics and hysterics. You swore you’d never be this type of girl. You swore and you swore.

“You’re not here long enough for me to look at you,” you said.

“That’s not fair, damn. I did all of this to spend time with you,” he said.

You sighed. Feeling the oncoming headache. Was it even worth it? All you did was argue and yell around in circles. The yells like lashes against the wall. It was grating and nerve-wracking and you wanted off the struggle bus.

But if you didn’t say anything, would anything ever change? Did you want it to? You watched the water foam and bubble up as it rose in the sink. You were leaning on the sink, feet crossed at the ankle.

“Until the next time you need to go into the office. Or the next time your boss needs you to look at an expense report right this second, at three in the morning. Or you have this meeting or that meeting, your phone is constantly on. You might as well move into your fucking office. You never turn that shit off,” you said.

You turned off the water, the sharp creak of the handle loud in the silent kitchen. Music still pumped in from the other room, but it was too muted to understand the lyrics. Knowing Tre, it was something sweet and sensual. Finding songs with the perfect mix of longing and need.

You pulled on kitchen gloves when Tre’s phone rang once more. You smirked with no real humor behind it. “If you really wanted to spend time, you would have turned your phone off.”

“This is my job, baby. This is what I get paid to do. This is how I afford all of this,” he said.

You rolled your eyes and started scrubbing the plate. You poured your frustration into getting every last stain off of the plate. Every last smear of gravy or mashed potato. “I know that! I’m not saying quit your job, I’m not saying never work. I just want you home at a decent fucking hour,” you said.

You put the clean plate on the other side of the sink so that you could rinse it off later. You started in on another plate. The action would be relaxing if you didn’t have Tre’s fucking phone going off. His boss was worse than a thirsty bitch after your man. You swore, there were some moments where you caught his boss looking at you like you were the devil herself.

“Sometimes things come up that need my attention,” he said.

“At three in the fucking morning? What email or graph or fucking presentation is so important at three in the morning? When do you sleep? When do you rest?”

Tre growled, stepping closer to you. “It’s just for a few weeks while we try to finish up this contract. Our work on it will depend on if they’ll sign with us again,” he said.

You mentally said the words along with him. He’d said it so often, you had it committed to memory. “And what if you don’t have a few weeks? Because your body is breaking down, because you never rest, because you never chill? What then? You gonna rest when you’re dead?”

You glanced at him, at the pain in his eyes. His mouth was fixed in a grimace, eyes cold. No matter what you said, he was always going to think his way was the highway. He wasn’t going to budge. He was turning into a mountain before your eyes. You rolled your neck and continued washing off the dinner plates and wine glasses.

“I’m trying,” he said quietly.

“No, you’re not. If you were trying, this wouldn’t be the first dinner we’ve had together –”

His phone rang and you laughed, shaking your head. What was the point? Tre cursed and picked up the phone, screaming into the phone.

“I’m in the middle of something,” he said. He listened for a few moments, turning away from you as he continued with the conversation. You chuckled, amazed at how easy it was to sway him when it came to work. Yet you were pleading with him to do right by you.

Truly, why bother? Why fight for a relationship that he clearly didn’t want or need? You felt like you were a hindrance. Like you were in the way of him working himself into the ground. The sad part was that you just wanted him safe. And he just wanted to work.

He was gone for about ten minutes, likely somewhere in your double home office, clicking away on his computer. You fell into a silent rhythm, washing the utensils and then rinsing off the dishes, draining the other side.

You took off the kitchen gloves and then washed your hands. Tre re-entered the kitchen, sighing. “I’ll see you next time you decide to come home,” you said.

Tre smacked his lips. “I don’t know what else you want me to do here, baby. You said come home and I’m home. You said you wanted a home cooked meal and here it is,” he said.

You rubbed your head. “I want you home! And that means your phone is off, your mind is not on work, and you are here with me. Otherwise–” You shrugged and shook your head, the words pushing against your tongue. Pushing you to speak.

“Otherwise there’s no reason to be together.” You sighed, feeling like a weight had been shoved off your shoulders. You could breathe now that the words were out in the air. You couldn’t take them back. Couldn’t recall them.

Tre’s face crumpled before he turned around, throwing his hands in the air. “What the hell? You want to break up now?” He asked and turned back to you.

“I don’t know! I’m tired and I’m mad and I don’t want to look at you right now. Go to work, stay here, I don’t care. But you’re sleeping on the couch!” You yelled.

“Tell me if you’re trying to break up with me,” he said.

“I don’t know. You make me so mad and sad. And I’m tired!” You yelled. You brushed past him. He grabbed your hand, pulling you to a stop. You yanked your hand back. His phone rang and you turned to look at him. You looked pointedly at the phone in his hand and then at him.

“I hope that you don’t look up five years from now, sad and alone, because you chose work over living your life,” you said. You left him in the kitchen, left him looking at you as if you’d slapped him in the face.

Tears stung your eyes but you refused to cry. Refused to weaponize your tears to manipulate him into staying. You weren’t going to beg a man to stay. You made your desires clear, multiple times, over many arguments during the past few weeks. There were only so many times you could repeat yourself before you understood that Tre was doing this intentionally. He chose work over you and that hurt most of all.

Over the next few days, Tre slept on the couch while you continued to sleep in your big, cold bed. You avoided each other as much as possible, both unwilling to look each other in the eye as your words echoed in the silent halls.

You managed to move around each other, never speaking and communicating with sighs and grunts. He was spending less and less time at work, coming home earlier and earlier. It was something. But was it enough for you? Was he only doing this because he thought he didn’t want to leave you?

You were coming home more often to Tre already having dinner started or finished, phone nowhere to be seen. Your tempers flashed hot and burned easily, so by the fourth day, you were not surprised that Tre was leaving notes for you. Reaching out to grab your hand sometimes or looking at you with rare heat in his eyes.

That was definitely something you missed these past few weeks. He’d been too tired or too worked up to hold and caress you. To make love to you like you missed. Your previous hurt was still etched into your heart and you weren’t sure what it would take to believe this version of him. Believe that he wanted to change and this wasn’t just an act.

You were on the couch, curled up with a smutty book. Somebody had to get laid around here. You were in the middle of a juicy part, snuggling deeper into your emerald throw blanket as the words played a movie in your head. Tre’s thick thighs entered your field of vision.

You glanced up and was met with gray sweatpants showing a very impressive bulge. Tre at rest was already a monster to begin with. Your eyes narrowed as you looked up at him. He grinned, scooting past you to sit on the couch. He wasn’t wearing a shirt, showing off plenty of tattoos that your mouth watered to trace with your tongue.

Tre cleared his throat, taking off his glasses and man spreading by putting his feet on the table. You were already annoyed by that, but he cracked open his own book, adjusting his body to get more comfortable.

Was this motherfucker for real? A flush of heat made you grip the throw blanket tighter around your shoulders. You curled into your end of the couch, pulling your legs to sit underneath you. Your thick thighs didn’t allow you to stay in this position for long, but you hoped the building ache kept your mind off of the fact that he was being an ass.

You focused on your book, on the heat and passion of the sex scene you were reading. But the actor you casted in your mind was quickly replaced with Tre. The female main character was swapped with you. You pictured Tre doing the same nasty things as the characters in the book.

You sighed for the tenth time, getting hotter by each word that you read. The male main character started talking nasty, growling in the girl’s ear. Your body shivered, practically hearing Tre’s voice saying those same nasty things in your ear.

Fucker. He knew those sweatpants were dangerous. You huffed again and Tre cleared his throat. “Something the matter, baby?” He asked.

“Nope, all good,” you answered too quickly, but you didn’t care. You were having an entire crisis where you sat while he sat there so peacefully. You glanced at him out of the corner of your eye to see the hint of a smirk on his lips.

You loved a well-read man. You knew that he truly was reading and he also knew that it further turned you on. You huffed and adjusted yourself on the couch, moving your legs to the side of you. It relieved the burning ache in your thighs and calves and you hummed in relief.

You narrowed your eyes, determined to re-cast the characters in your mind. But instantly, your mind was creating an entire scene in your head. This was ridiculous. You weren’t going to be subject to this torture, not while Tre refused to apologize.

You stood up and let the couch throw blanket fall from your shoulders. Cold air hit your skin and you wanted to sigh in relief again, but you refused. You smiled at him and he smiled sweetly at you. “Goodnight baby,” he said.

You knew his back hurt from sleeping on the couch but you refused to be the first one to budge in this matter. He needed to do this because he wanted to and not because of some game between you. Though, it looked like he was winning so far.

You trudged up the stairs, intent on going straight to sleep. You laid down in the dark, thoughts of Tre blowing your back out lulling you to sleep.

Tre became unbearable. He was always catching you at the wrong moment, leaving you flustered and like he was inflicting ten plus psychic damage to your kitty. It was well on its way to purring every time he walked into the room wearing a combination that made your head spin.

First it was the gray sweatpants. Then he came home drenched in sweat, wearing compression shorts underneath his basketball shorts. He had a small white towel tucked in the waistband of his pants and you wanted to tug it down further so that you could see his Adonis belt.

If that wasn’t enough, you were trying to ignore that he was in the shower while you were laying in bed. He yelled for you to help grab him a towel because he forgot his. When you passed the soft towel to him through the door, you saw his reflection in the mirror. He winked at you as your eyes traveled down, down, down and then you shrieked and backed away. You felt insane for peeping on your own boyfriend, but his ass was well rounded, sculpted, muscles jumping.

You fanned yourself thinking of it. You had to get him back. Had to start playing dirty yourself. You went deep into your closet, pulling out the skimpy lounge wear. The too tiny shorts, the lady boxers, the oversized T-shirts.

You walked into the kitchen one Saturday morning, surprised to find him drinking coffee at the rounded dining room table. He had a newspaper in his hand, glasses on but he was looking over the rim. Now he was just being dramatic.

You sauntered into the kitchen, wearing a purple oversized T-shirt, the kind that rode up whenever you leaned over. You did such a thing, reaching up for the mugs at the higher shelf. Tre moved them some time ago, telling you he did it on purpose so you’d ask for his help.

“Need help, baby?” Tre asked, his voice gruff.

“No, thank you, baby. I got it,” you said. You managed to snag a mug without it falling on your head and then started the coffee machine. It hissed and roared to life, and you went around the kitchen, opening cabinets and closing them.

Tre cleared his throat. “Are you looking for something?” He asked.

“I’m trying to decide if I want to move things around in here. Or get rid of what we aren’t using. What do you think?” You asked. You lifted on your tiptoes, looking into the spice cabinet.

“Whatever you think is best, baby,” he said. He cleared his throat again and you looked at him over your shoulder.

“Are you okay, baby? Do you need something for that throat?” You asked.

“No, ma’am,” he said and flicked the newspaper, returning his attention to it. You moved to grab your coffee, doctoring it up how you liked. Then, you sat at the table with him and crossed your legs, in plain view. Tre watched your movements covertly, a smirk playing about his lips.

You smirked back. It carried on like this for another week, tension so thick in the house that you could cut it with a knife. He teased you mercilessly with things you’d told him were sexy on him. His loungewear or his jeans. The way he manspread all over the couch.

You continued to tease him, parading around in your bonnets and pajamas, short shorts, and leggings. You’d caught him staring a few times, biting his lip and that noticeable bulge getting thicker and thicker.

You were at your wit’s end by the time the following weekend rolled around. He had been consistently coming home, spending more time around the house doing things for himself. Getting back into his vinyl records, playing the odd game, or doing a few pushups and crunches on the floor of your home gym.

You were in the laundry room, pulling warm clothes out of the dryer and placing it in a wooden basket, when Tre cornered you in the room. He blocked you from leaving and bit his lip, looking you up and down. You weren’t wearing anything revealing, just some gray joggers and a tank top. He looked at you like he could see you naked beneath it.

Tre hummed and walked into the room, making you back away with a smirk on your face. “You think you’re slick,” he said.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” you said, all sugary sweet and innocent. You adjusted the laundry basket on your hip and continued backing away until your butt hit the countertop.

The marble surface was smooth and cold on your butt, providing some relief to the raging heat burning through you. Tre leaned in, smelling heavenly. Like green sage and sandalwood. He gently cupped your cheek, pulling you closer and pressing a feather light kiss to the corner of your mouth.

“You’re driving me crazy, please forgive me,” he whispered.

You were tempted. Tempted worse than a kid facing down two cookies if he waited and didn’t eat the first one. You took a deep inhale of his scent, bringing your nose closer to his neck. His thick beard tickled your cheeks but you kept going, wanting to crawl into his skin.

“Are you going to take me seriously?” You asked.

He groaned, stepping closer. “Haven’t I shown you that I have?” He asked.

“But how do I know that you won’t go running the next time your phone rings?” You asked.

He sighed, nudging your jaw with his nose. He inhaled your scent as well, breathing in the tropical, fruity lotion you wore. His breath fanned across your overheated skin. Your knees were weak, wobbly, and you were struggling to stay upright.

As if you summoned the damn thing, his phone rang in his pocket. Your smile dropped, body cooling. You smiled at him, hoping he didn’t see the hurt on your face. “Duty calls,” you sang.

You pushed against his body and he stepped back with a sigh and a frown. You avoided looking at his eyes, walking out of the laundry room. The air had turned stifling in the laundry room but now you had room to breathe. For your heart to calm down.

You went into the bedroom, wanting to sit on the bed while you folded laundry. But the soft click of the door made you turn around to see Tre. He turned his pockets inside out, showing you that there was no phone. He turned in a slow circle, lifting his shirt, and you got a great view of the curve of his ass and his back.

He held out his arms. “Phone’s off,” he said, sounding pleased as punch.

You held onto the laundry basket, using it as a barrier. You’d need it. Because if you gave in, if you let your libido speak for you, you were getting pregnant that damn night. After nearly two weeks of teasing and edging, you were ready to combust. Ready to explode. Your fingers curled around the stiff wood of the basket and you smirked.

“Cute,” you said.

He smiled. He stepped forward slowly, looking at you with that cute, mischievous smile on his face. “Forgive me,” he said.

You tilted your head. “Why should I?” You asked. Maybe you could pick a fight and keep him at bay. Keep that fire out of his eyes. He had to stop looking at you like that. Had to stop keeping one hundred percent of his focus on you.

“Because I heard you, baby. I don’t want to wake up five years from now, alone and watching my life pass me by. I want to build with you, grow with you, and show you that I am listening. I will do better because I know that I want you here, home, with me,” he said.

Was it possible to get pregnant with just a few words? There was a strange twinge in your belly that told you it just might be possible. You wanted to melt into a puddle and grin like a loon.

“Pretty words,” you said, some part of you enjoying poking him. He was unfazed. He put his hands on the laundry basket. When had he gotten so close?

He smiled as he gently tugged it from your hands. You stepped forward, not wanting to get rid of your last remaining barrier. That last bit of resistance. You didn’t want to believe this. Didn’t want to get comfortable with it only for him to fall into old patterns and leave you looking like Bozo the clown.

However, with him looking into your eyes and the way you’d been on edge the past few days, your arms started to slacken. If you didn’t find relief soon, the type of relief only he could give, the next time you brushed against a table you were going to cum on the spot.

Tre tugged the basket from your hands and placed it on the ottoman at the end of the bed. He invaded your personal space, leaning down to kiss your forehead. “What is it gonna take for you to forgive me?” He asked.

You looked towards the ceiling. You were on fire. You were in shambles. You were not okay with his proximity. It took everything in you not to jump his bones. But you were always folding first. It was time for him to grovel a smidgen.

“I’d have to know that you’re really, really sorry,” you said. You smiled, grabbing his hands and leading him to the bed. He raised an eyebrow, smiling and following you. The back of your legs hit the edge of the bed and you sat down.

You were eye level with his bulge, growing thicker by the second. He was back in heather gray sweatpants, dick print protruding through the fabric.

“How can I show that?” He asked, a light teasing in his voice.

You laid back on the bed with a self-indulgent smile. “Ravish me until I say otherwise.” you said.

Tre chuckled, leaning over the bed so that he could start tugging on your joggers and panties. He pulled it off of your legs in one quick snap and you shrieked from the rough action. Perhaps you weren’t the only one at your limit. Ready to snap.

Tre dropped to his knees, licking his lips as he caught a glimpse of your gleaming pussy. He smoothed his hands on your thighs, nudging them apart. He hummed, getting his first full look in a month and a half. Your pussy throbbed from the look in his eyes.

His thumbs dug into your meaty thighs, finding pressure points that made your teeth instantly chatter. He leaned forward, taking a deep breath, inhaling your scent. He sighed with his mouth open, air fanning across your damp pussy. Had you known that you were gonna have sex today, you might have cleaned up a little. Freshened up better.

But Tre had no reservation as he kissed your thighs. Kissed the side of your knees. He moved your thighs over his shoulders, rubbing his nose in your essence. You sighed with a light moan, closing your eyes. This was it. You were going to go off like a bottle rocket any moment.

“Baby, I want you to know that I am so, very, very sorry. I made you feel alone and I never wanted to treat you that way,” he whispered to your pussy. You almost felt like an intruder. You peeked at him over your belly and saw his eyes completely focused on the center of you.

His tongue darted out and licked up the slit of your center and you hissed, leaning away from him. With his hands wrapped around your thighs, you had nowhere to go. He successfully immobilized you as he continued to slowly coax you open. Your slick dripped down your pussy and you moaned, thighs tingling.

“Fuck,” you moaned. Unable to stand it. He had to go faster. Had to get you off as soon as possible. Couldn’t he tell that you were dying over here?

“I will never, ever, ever, abandon you like that again. You are what is most important to me. I will make sure you know that every day,” he said. He followed up his words with licks and groans, slurping on your essence. Your moans turned into desperate whimpers.

“Every, single, day,” he said, punctuating every word with a lick to your clit. His lush lips latched on and began to suck, wringing desperate cries from you. Pressure built in your tummy, building and building, going higher and higher, until white light flashed behind your eyes as you came on his tongue.

He moaned, continuing to eat you out through it. You were sensitive as hell, twitching with every new lick, every new moan, every new suckle. But it felt so good, that you were heading into another orgasm. Or it could be prolonged from the first. You weren’t sure as you thrashed your head back and forth, upper body twisting on the bed.

You pushed at his head, tiny cries and whimpers. Tre kept going, grabbing your hands and pinning them to the bed. You whined, moving your hips. But you only managed to move your pussy against his face, his beard tickling your pussy and thighs.

“Please, baby, please, baby, please,” you chanted.

“Cum f’me one more time,” he groaned. He increased his efforts, abusing your poor little clit. The sensitive bud was driving you insane but you continued to beg for more. You screamed into the room, releasing another orgasm. Tre’s satisfied hum vibrated against your pussy as he licked you until you came back down.

He pulled away from your pussy, long spit chain still connected you two. Your body was on fire, damp with sweat, as you panted and huffed from such intense orgasms back to back.

“Look at you, All nice and creamy. All wet and ripping. You making a fuckin’ mess,” he murmured. His voice was rough, deep, sending shivers up and down your spine.

Your pussy clenched and clenched around nothing. You didn’t know if you had another in you, but you were struggling against his hold. You needed him inside you right fucking now. You looked at Tre as he still glanced at your pussy. His beard was shiny with your mess. He finally let you go, wiping more of your juices into his beard, getting it nice and coated. It grew rough in the weeks he wasn’t worshiping your throbbing hole.

Tre stood up, rubbing the bulge over his pants. You sat up, licking his stomach and then looking up at him. He grinned at you. You grinned back and then bit his stomach, grabbing a big bite without clamping down. Tre chuckled, stomach jostling in your mouth. You released him and smiled.

You tugged his pants down, freeing his long glorious dick. Slightly curved, you missed his dick. You kissed the tip, unable to resist being apart for too long. You looked up at him and then opened your mouth.

Tre chuckled, grabbed the base of his shaft and tapping it against your tongue. He rolled his hips, rubbing his thick head against your tongue. He groaned, throwing his head back for a brief moment.

“You forgive me, baby?” He asked. He coated your lips with his precum and then slipped back inside your mouth.

“I’m getting there,” you groaned around his dick. It sounded a bit muffled but Tre laughed so he must have heard you. He caressed your cheek with his thumb, looking at you like you hung the moon.

It sent a wave of feel good chemicals flooding your system and you closed your mouth around his dick. Tre hissed, pulling out of your mouth. He stroked back inside, holding your face while he face fucked you.

You relaxed your throat and mouth, letting him use you exactly how you needed. You moaned at the salty taste of his precum hitting your tongue. You swallowed what you could, trying to re-learn the shape and feel of his dick. The curve made him accidentally poke your cheek and you looked up at him.

Tre moaned, sighing with a quick, rushed, “fuck.” He continued stroking, taking what he needed from your mouth. You slobbered and slurped on him, getting his dick nice and wet. He slipped out of you suddenly and you whined, looking at him.

“I wanna cum in that tight, dripping pussy, baby. On them knees,” he said and licked his lip. The gold chain around his neck twinkled from the overhead light. You grinned, getting off of the bed.

You stood up and turned around. Before you kneeled on the bed, Tre stopped you and lifted your tank top off of your shoulders. You lifted your arms and let him pull it off of you. You smiled over your shoulder while Tre kissed your neck. You moaned, tilting your head so he had more access.

His fingers came around your chest, fondling your breasts and pinching your nipples. You moaned, desperate tinny cries. He stepped forward, making you bend over the bed.

You climbed on, bending your knees and sticking your ass in the air. Tre hummed, running his hands over your ass. He squeezed and kneaded, putting you at ease and making you respond to his humming.

He placed two quick kisses to the globes of your ass, following it up with love bites. “Hey!” You said.

Tre chuckled. “Missed your cute ass. Forgiven me yet, woman? I’m trynna love on you,” he said.

“I don’t know. I think better with dick inside me,” you said. The air whooshed from your lungs as Tre shoved in, leaving you no room to prepare. You screeched, falling forward onto your face.

Tre hummed with deep relief, like stepping into a jacuzzi after a long day. You shrieked and shivered, feeling stretched out to the max. Fuck. You forgot how big he was. How deeply and completely he filled you up.

“Thinking more clearly, baby?” He asked, his voice full of teasing. You could hear the smile in his voice. Fucker.

You drew in deep breaths, getting acclimated to his size. You got onto your elbows and then stretched your back, giving you a better arch. Tre groaned, pulling back and then slamming back in.

“Fuck,” you choked out.

He repeated the motion, pulling out to the tip and then slamming back in. Your ass smacked loudly against his thighs, wet slaps echoing in the room.

“Gon’ answer me?” He asked.

“Fuck, yes, I’m thinking more clearly,” you whined. Your mind was clear. Fuck whatever he did, he just needed to keep stroking into you just as he was doing.

He made it worse. He started increasing his pace, slamming you back on his dick in quick, hard thrusts that shook your whole body with the force of it. You choked on your whines and moans, choked on his dick spearing you from the inside out.

You creamed on his dick and he moaned. “Goddamn, you feeling so good. So nice and wet, baby. You hear that?” He asked.

You nodded, but eventually let out a squeaky, “yes.” Yes, you heard your pussy sucking him down greedily. Yes, you heard the evidence of your arousal. He made you cum so many times already, but you were building towards another one.

“Hmm, I feel you clutching this dick. Show me what’s yours, baby,” he groaned. His voice was rough with his arousal, deep with his lust. He stroked so deep, hitting all your good spots.

He grunted and smacked your ass, gathering some of your slick with his fingers playing with your clit. You cried out and jerked forward, interrupting the rhythm. Tre removed his fingers, picking up the pace once more. Then he brought those wet fingers to your ass, rubbing his thumb around your tight, puckered hole. Your teeth chattered as he continued to push inward, push past that bit of resistance.

Now, you really felt full. “Oh, baby, fuck, please,” you cried out.

“Be a good little girl and cum on this dick,” he growled.

“Shit,” you whispered as you did just that, flooding his dick with fresh slick. He slipped more easily inside of you, grunting as you clenched around his throbbing dick. He moaned, increasing his strokes until he was soon following after.

His hot cum shot inside of you, painting your creamy walls with his cum. Your back bowed and he wiggled his thumb in your ass. Drool leaked from your lips as you came down from your climax.

Tre slowed his movements, pumping the last of it inside of you. He stilled his hips, kept you plugged up with his dick. You shivered and twitched on him, completely spent and out of breath. He kissed down your spine, rubbing your back. You groaned. Somehow, he zeroed in on your problem areas, the parts of your back that ached and ached all the time.

“Baby? You forgive me?” He asked.

You whimpered. He expected you to talk after something like that? You needed at least two days to recover.

“I forgive you, baby. Just…please don’t do that again,” you said, your voice small. Tre stilled with his lips against your back. He nodded once and then nodded again like he was confirming for himself as well.

“I won’t. I’ll be right here with you,” he promised. He softened inside of you and slowly slipped out. You groaned. Tre spread your asscheeks and watched his cum slowly glide out of your pussy.

He cursed softly. “Need to do this more often, you made such a mess,” he said.

You chuckled. You were a limp noodle at the moment. You were unable to move a muscle. Not a single twitch. Tre kissed your cheek, smacking your ass lightly while he went to grab a washcloth. He cleaned you off and then got onto the bed with you.

He pulled you into the crook of his arm, snuggling against your back. Your ass wiggled against his dick.

“Behave,” he grunted. He pulled you as far as you were able to go and wrapped his strong arms around you. You stayed in bed for the rest of the day, talking and laughing, and enjoying each other like you used to do.

You only left the bed long enough to get food, laughing your way back to each other. Renewing your commitment to each other with every smile, every joke, and every twinkle in your eyes.

There's more Tre to love! The Secret Tre Files

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