#sarah's secrets 2 | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mssalo · 2 months ago

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worship Part: 2

A week ago, Joel finally gave you everything you’d been missing—passion, desire, and the attention of a man who truly craved you. Now, you’re ready to leave your husband behind, but before you can make your move, a garden party at your home pushes everything to the brink.

Warnings: 18+, MDNI, cheating, explicit sexual content, possessive Joel, fingering under table while people are there, hitting your husband (deserved), oral (m receiving) while driving, divorce, angst, rough sex (P in V), dirty talk, body worship, breeding kink, emotional tension, secret affair, neglectful husband, explosive confrontation, soft moments with sarah and Joel, 11k words.

· · ───────────𖥸──────────· ··

It had been a long, exhausting week since that night with Joel—since everything between you shifted. His touch, his voice, the way he had made you feel seen and wanted, lingered in your mind every waking moment. You hadn’t seen him since, though you’d spoken in hushed tones on the phone, voices low as you discussed the delicate plan of how to leave your husband. It had to be done carefully. One wrong move could make everything fall apart.

Today, though, you were still stuck playing the perfect wife. Your husband had thrown together a garden party for his work colleagues, eager to show off the life he liked to pretend was flawless.

But, of course, he hadn’t lifted a finger. The pressure of preparing the garden, arranging the food, and making everything look effortless fell entirely on you. The weight of it clung to your shoulders like a heavy coat, but you did it anyway. Even now, you couldn’t shake the need to make everything look perfect, even if he didn’t care.

As the guests arrived, you moved between them with a forced smile, offering drinks and making small talk, though your mind was somewhere else—waiting.

Joel was coming.

And the thought of seeing him again, of having him close, made your pulse quicken in a way that had nothing to do with the party.

The garden was bathed in golden light as the sun began to set, casting long shadows across the lawn. You were pouring a glass of wine when you saw him slip in quietly, unnoticed by most.

But not by you.

Your heart fluttered in your chest as your eyes found him, his presence steady, grounding, but also full of that same heat that had lingered between you since that night. And maybe longer.

Joel moved easily through the crowd, shaking hands, nodding politely, but it was obvious—he wasn’t here for all that. His eyes kept finding yours, flicking toward you even as he spoke with others, his gaze lingering a little too long, his lips curving into a small, knowing smile every time you caught him staring.

You tried to focus on your tasks—pouring drinks, offering food—but every time you turned, Joel was closer, his presence weaving around you like an invisible thread pulling you toward him.

You could feel his gaze on you even when you weren’t looking, the heat of it warming your skin. The tension between you was palpable, and you could barely breathe as it thickened the air.

Finally, as you set down a tray of hors d’oeuvres, Joel was there, standing beside you, his presence sending a wave of warmth through your body. You didn’t have to look at him to know he was close—his scent, that familiar, earthy mix of soap and pine, filled the space between you.

“Hello, darlin’,” Joel’s voice was low, just for you, the deep timbre of his Texas accent sending a ripple of awareness through you. He stepped closer, his breath brushing your ear as he leaned in slightly. “Need any help with all this?”

Your heart pounded in your chest as you glanced around, trying to make sure no one had noticed how close he was standing, the intimate way he was speaking to you. “You don’t have to do that,” you said, your voice barely steady. “You’re a guest.”

Joel’s lips curved into a soft smile, his eyes dark with something unspoken. “I’m not here for the party, sweetheart,” he murmured, his voice thick with meaning. “I’m here for you.”

His words sent a rush of heat through you, making your knees feel weak. You glanced around again, nerves buzzing under your skin, but no one seemed to be paying attention. His fingers brushed lightly against your arm as he reached for the tray you were holding, the touch sparking a fire beneath your skin.

“Let me help,” Joel said softly, his hand lingering on yours for a moment longer than necessary. His touch was firm, comforting, but there was something beneath it—a quiet intensity, a need that neither of you could ignore.

You watched, breathless, as Joel moved through the party, gathering glasses and plates, his strong hands working with quiet efficiency.

He moved like he belonged there by your side, taking over tasks you’d been doing alone for far too long.

The sight of him—tall, broad-shouldered, moving with that quiet confidence—made your pulse race. There was something undeniably sexy about the way he did it, the way he moved with purpose, his gaze flicking back to you every so often, checking in silently.

At one point, as you both cleared another table, his hand grazed yours again—this time, he didn’t pull away. He let his fingers linger, his touch light but full of meaning. He leaned in slightly, his voice a low whisper meant only for you. “You look beautiful,” he murmured, his lips just inches from your ear.

The compliment sent a shiver down your spine, your skin tingling under his gaze. You glanced around quickly, making sure no one had heard, but the words lingered, hanging in the air between you. His eyes flickered with something deeper, something that made your breath catch in your throat.

He wasn’t just talking about how you looked—he was talking about you. The way you held everything together, the way you moved with quiet strength, even when you were on the verge of crumbling.

“Thank you,” you whispered, your voice barely audible as your eyes met his. The connection between you was electric, and for a moment, the rest of the world faded away—there was no party, no guests, no husband.

Just you and Joel, standing there in the golden light of the garden.

Before you could say anything else, your husband’s loud voice cut through the moment, pulling you back into reality.

“Hey! More drinks over here!”

You flinched at the sound, the familiar sting of frustration building inside you as your husband continued barking orders like you were nothing more than a servant. You opened your mouth to respond, but Joel was already moving.

“I’ll take care of it,” he said quietly, his voice steady but filled with a protective edge. He shot you a quick glance, his eyes dark with something that made your heart pound—a promise that he wasn’t going to let your husband keep treating you like this. Not anymore.

You watched as Joel moved across the garden, grabbing a bottle and refilling your husband’s glass without a word. Your husband barely even acknowledged him, too absorbed in his own conversation to notice anything, but Joel didn’t seem to care. When he returned, his gaze softened again, his eyes locking with yours as he stepped closer.

And the way Joel looked at you… it wasn’t just admiration. It was desire—deep, simmering beneath the surface, barely held in check.

Every glance felt like a secret, a silent confession of the things he couldn’t say aloud. Every time his hand brushed yours, it wasn’t accidental. Each fleeting touch sent warmth spiraling through you, igniting something raw and undeniable.

When he returned to your side, his hand grazed the small of your back, lingering longer than necessary, the pressure just enough to remind you that he was there, close. The touch was so simple, but it sent a pulse of heat through your body, making your breath catch in your throat.

“You shouldn’t have to do this alone,” he murmured, his voice low, the rich warmth of his breath skimming across your neck. “You’re always the one carrying everything.”

The words weren’t just kind. They were a gentle rebuke to all the years you’d spent doing just that—being the one who did it all, with no one ever truly seeing the weight of it.

You glanced up at him, your chest tightening at the softness in his eyes, the concern etched in his features.

“Joel…,” you whispered, the words barely audible, your voice unsteady.

The lump in your throat grew as you looked down, overwhelmed by the weight of everything unsaid between you.

But Joel wasn’t finished. He moved even closer, his hand lifting to gently cradle your cheek, his thumb sweeping tenderly over your skin, grounding you.

“You do all this,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion, “workin’ yourself to the bone and yet you’re still the most breathtakin‘ woman in this entire place.”

His words hit you hard, your breath faltering as your heart raced, threatening to burst from the emotion building inside. His touch was firm, steady, but underneath it, you could feel the undercurrent of something deeper—something that made your pulse quicken, that made you lean into him just a little more.

You could feel the tension building between you, the air thick with all the unspoken feelings that had been growing between you for months.

You couldn’t do this out here—not with people around. You needed to be alone with him, somewhere you could finally let go of everything you’d been holding back.

“Come with me,” you whispered, barely audible over the sound of the party.

Joel’s eyes darkened with understanding, and he nodded subtly. He followed you quietly as you slipped through the garden, making your way toward the house.

You led him into the kitchen, the noise of the party fading behind you as you closed the door, shutting out the rest of the world.

The kitchen was dimly lit, with the sound of the party outside fading into nothingness as you led Joel inside, closing the door behind you. The soft glow of the light cast shadows across his face, making his already dark eyes seem even deeper, more intense. Your heart pounded in your chest, the air thick with everything left unsaid.

When you turned to face him, Joel was already stepping closer, his gaze locked on yours. His hands reached out, pulling you toward him with a quiet intensity that sent shivers down your spine.

His touch was firm, possessive, as if he had been waiting too long to feel you again, and now that you were alone, he couldn’t hold back any longer.

“Joel,” you whispered, your voice trembling as you looked up at him, feeling the heat of his body so close to yours.

He didn’t respond at first—he didn’t need to. His eyes, full of longing and unspoken need, told you everything. He cupped your face with both hands, his touch gentle but with a restrained intensity, like he was holding back the full force of what he wanted to do.

His thumbs brushed over your cheeks, his breath warm against your lips.

“I can’t get you outta my head,” he finally murmured, his voice rough, low, filled with raw need. His hands moved down, wrapping around your waist as he pulled you closer. “Every time I close my eyes, it’s you. The way you feel… the way you sound when I’m inside you. It’s all I think about, baby.”

His words sent a rush of heat through your body, your breath catching in your throat as the memory of last week flooded back.

The way he had touched you, the way he had made you feel, was seared into your mind too. You’d been replaying it over and over, the ache for him growing stronger with every day that passed.

“I’ve been missin’ you so much, pretty girl’,” Joel whispered, his lips grazing your jawline as his hands slid lower, gripping your hips.

“Every damn night… fisting my cock thinkin’ bout you. Thinkin’ about how perfect you feel wrapped around me. How good you taste.”

You gasped softly at his confession, your hands curling into the fabric of his shirt, pulling him even closer. His words sent a shiver through you, the raw honesty in them making your pulse race.

You could feel his breath hot against your neck, the roughness of his beard brushing against your skin as he kissed you softly, each touch of his lips making your body tremble.

“You drive me fuckin’ crazy,” Joel growled against your neck, his voice thick with desire as his hands roamed over your body, sliding up your sides, feeling every curve as if he were memorizing you all over again. “You don’t know what you do to me, baby. I’ve been countin’ the days ‘til I could have you like this again.”

His mouth claimed yours in a deep, hungry kiss, his hands gripping your waist as he pulled you firmly against him.

The kiss was filled with the desperation of everything he had been holding back—the weeks of restraint, the nights spent thinking of you, wanting you, needing you.

You kissed him back just as eagerly, your body pressing into his as your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, wanting to feel every inch of him.

Before you could kiss him deeper or let your hands explore more of him, your husband’s voice cut through the kitchen, calling everyone outside for dinner.

The spell was broken, and with a shared glance, you both knew you had to split, to act like nothing had happened. You quickly adjusted yourselves, smoothing over the moment to avoid suspicion.

You followed the crowd out to the garden, still flustered from what had just unfolded with Joel.

Joel walked beside you, his hand brushing against yours as you sat down. You were still reeling from the intensity of what had happened, and you couldn’t shake the way his rough voice had whispered filth into your ear just moments ago. Your body was still buzzing with unspent desire, even as the cool evening breeze washed over you.

You sat beside Joel, your heart racing, trying to calm the thrum of desire that had been simmering between you both since you entered the garden.

The tension was almost unbearable, his presence electric, every glance in his direction making your body prickle with awareness. It was impossible to focus on anything else—not with Joel so close, not with the hunger that had been left hanging between you both.

Just as you thought you might regain control, Joel’s hand found your thigh under the table, his touch possessive, like he was claiming you all over again. The warmth of his hand against your bare skin sent a jolt of electricity straight through you, and your heart raced as he slowly dragged his fingers higher, inching closer to where you were already soaked and aching for him.

He acted like he had every right to touch you—like your body was his to explore and own, and the intensity of it made your pulse pound in your ears. His fingers grazed your inner thigh, teasing, deliberate, and you fought to keep a straight face, knowing everyone else at the table remained oblivious to what was happening beneath the tablecloth.

Your husband, as usual, was too busy talking loudly, bragging about work and drinking far too much to even notice. But you noticed. Every move Joel made had your body clenching, anticipation building as his fingers slid higher.

With a low, growling whisper, Joel leaned in, his breath hot against your ear. “You think about me all week, huh? Think about my cock stretching out that tight little pussy?” His words were so filthy, they sent heat flooding between your legs, your panties already damp from the thought alone.

You swallowed hard, trying to maintain your composure as Joel’s fingers inched closer, slipping under the fabric of your dress like it was the most natural thing in the world. His touch was agonizingly slow, his fingertips barely brushing your soaked panties.

“I can feel how fuckin’ wet you are,” Joel whispered, his voice dark and possessive. “This pussy’s beggin’ for me. I could take you right here, couldn’t I? Fill you up right under his fuckin’ nose, and he wouldn’t even notice.”

Your thighs clenched instinctively, trying to stop the flood of arousal that was pooling in your core, but Joel wasn’t having it. His hand gripped your thigh tightly, prying your legs apart, his fingers teasing along the edge of your panties. “Don’t you dare try to hide from me,” he growled. “You know this pussy’s mine.”

The possessiveness in his voice sent a shiver down your spine, your breath catching as his fingers finally slipped under the thin fabric of your panties, dragging over your slick folds with a slow, deliberate motion. Your body trembled as he teased you, parting your lips with his fingers, slicking them through your wetness.

His thumb found your clit, pressing down just enough to make your legs shake, his fingers spreading you open and slipping inside with agonizing slowness. You bit down hard on your lip to stifle a moan, your body begging for more even as you tried to stay quiet.

“Fuck, you’re soaked,” Joel growled, his voice thick with lust. “So fuckin’ needy for me. Bet you haven’t felt this good in years, have you?”

You could barely breathe, your body trembling as his fingers pumped in and out of you, curling just enough to brush against that perfect spot inside you. His thumb circled your clit, slow and teasing, keeping you on the edge but never letting you tip over.

“Look at you,” Joel muttered, his voice low and dark as his fingers fucked you under the table. “So fuckin’ desperate for me. This pussy’s mine. You’re mine. You belong to me now.”

The sound of his voice, so full of ownership and desire, sent another wave of heat rushing through you. You clenched around his fingers, your walls tightening as he worked you over, pumping harder, faster, the wet sounds of his fingers sliding in and out of you barely hidden by the noise of the party.

Your husband’s voice droned on, oblivious to what was happening right in front of him, while Joel’s fingers fucked you mercilessly under the table. The sheer filth of it, the forbidden thrill of being taken like this in such a public space, made your pulse race.

“You love this, don’t you?” Joel growled, his breath hot against your ear. “Love how I finger fuck this needy little cunt. You’re gonna cum for me, baby. Cum all over my fingers like a good girl.”

His words sent you over the edge, the pleasure crashing through you like a tidal wave. You bit down hard on your lip, your body trembling, legs shaking as you came, your pussy clenching around his fingers as the orgasm hit you.

Joel didn’t stop, his fingers thrusting deeper, harder, drawing out every last bit of pleasure until you were a quivering mess, barely able to stay upright in your seat. His thumb pressed down hard on your clit, sending aftershocks of pleasure pulsing through you.

As you tried to catch your breath, Joel slowly pulled his fingers from your soaked heat, bringing them to his lips. He groaned, a low, filthy sound that made your whole body tingle.

“Damn,” he said loudly, smirking as he sucked his fingers clean. “That cake is good.”

Your heart nearly stopped as he spoke, your eyes widening in shock, but the rest of the table didn’t seem to notice the double meaning behind his words. They all laughed, assuming he was talking about the dessert in front of him, while you sat there, still trembling, trying to recover from the intensity of what just happened.

Joel’s eyes flickered to you, dark with satisfaction, and when he leaned back in his seat, his hand settled possessively on your thigh once again. “Good girl,” he whispered, his voice rough with approval. “You did so fuckin’ good. But this isn’t over. Not by a long shot.”

And the look in his eyes promised that the night was just beginning.

· · ────

As the party finally wound down, the last guests said their goodbyes, spilling out into the cool evening. You stood by the door, forcing a tight smile, thanking them for coming while your mind buzzed with unspoken tension. Every fleeting glance toward Joel made your pulse quicken, a stark contrast to the exhaustion and bitterness that had built up throughout the night.

The garden was littered with empty glasses, plates, and discarded bits of the party, the chaos that your husband had insisted on throwing but, unsurprisingly, had done nothing to manage.

You sighed deeply, already dreading the cleanup. Your husband, now a few drinks past his limit, stumbled through the garden, slurring words to whoever was still unfortunate enough to be in earshot. He hadn’t lifted a finger all night, as usual, letting you handle everything while he made sure to drink more than anyone else.

Joel, in contrast, moved through the garden like a quiet force. Collecting glasses, stacking plates, helping with the cleanup in a way that felt so natural. His movements were purposeful, calm, and magnetic, making even the simple act of clearing a table seem like an extension of his strength. You couldn’t help but watch him, your body tingling at the sight of his rolled-up sleeves, those strong forearms flexing as he moved.

Every quiet glance he sent your way only deepened the longing inside you, a silent acknowledgment that he saw you—really saw you.

At one point, Joel leaned in close to hand you a tray, the scent of him—earthy and masculine—surrounding you as he whispered, “You’re not alone anymore, darlin’.” His voice was low, gravelly, a promise woven through every word.

A shiver ran down your spine, the quiet intensity of his words wrapping around your heart like a protective shield.

But as Joel disappeared inside to use the bathroom, you felt the air shift. The moment he was gone, your husband’s drunken presence loomed closer.

He had been stumbling around for the past hour, barking slurred orders at no one in particular, too drunk to even realize what an embarrassing display he was putting on. He was more than drunk—he was a ticking time bomb.

You stacked the last few plates when you felt it: the heavy, uneven footsteps approaching from behind. The hair on the back of your neck stood up as his presence pressed down on you.

“What the hell are you doing?” your husband’s voice slurred, thick with irritation and resentment. “Why is it taking you so goddamn long to clean up? Can’t even do something simple.”

You ignored him, focusing on the task in front of you, but it only made his frustration mount. His voice turned sharper, dripping with condescension. “Oh, I see. Just gonna ignore me, huh? Like you always do. After everything I’ve done for you, and you can’t even handle one fuckin’ party.”

He staggered closer, his breath sour with the stench of alcohol, the air between you heavy and tense. “You ungrateful bitch,” he spat, his voice louder now, full of venom. “You think you’re too good for me? Is that it? You can’t even look at me now?”

You froze, your heart pounding in your chest as the rage in his voice twisted tighter, crueler. His words felt like a slap, a reminder of how he had always managed to make you feel small, worthless. You kept your eyes down, trying to focus on anything but the suffocating tension, trying to keep your composure. But the anger in him was rising, boiling over.

“I said look at me when I’m talking to you!” he barked, his voice turning ugly as he stepped even closer, his body looming over yours. His face was flushed red, eyes wild with drunken rage. “Can’t even manage that, can you? Useless… that’s what you are. Always have been. Can’t do one fucking thing right.”

The words sliced through the air, sharp and venomous, and before you could react, he raised his hand slightly, a dangerous glint in his eyes that made your stomach drop. The fury in his expression was like nothing you’d seen before, and for a moment, the fear that he might actually hit you became very real.

Before he could do anything, a shadow loomed behind him, and you felt the shift in the air.

“Back the fuck off,” Joel’s voice was a low, dangerous growl, sharp and filled with restrained rage that sent a shiver down your spine.

His words were laced with a fury so thick it felt palpable, filling the space between the three of you. He stepped up behind your husband, towering over him with an intensity that made it clear—Joel wasn’t here to talk.

He was here to protect, to claim, and he would destroy anyone who stood in the way.

Your husband turned, stumbling slightly, his drunken swagger faltering as he tried to stand his ground. But there was no mistaking the fear that flickered in his eyes when he looked up at Joel—who, in contrast, was a force of nature.

His fists were clenched, his body coiled with enough tension that you knew it would only take one wrong move for him to snap.

“This isn’t your business,” your husband slurred, his voice wavering as he tried to sound tough, but the bravado was weak, and it was clear he knew it. He might have tried to act like he had control, but one look at Joel’s seething expression, and that confidence faltered.

Joel’s jaw clenched, the muscles in his neck tightening as his nostrils flared. His eyes, dark and burning with fury, didn’t leave your husband’s face for a second.

“It became my business the second you thought you could put your hands on her,” he growled, stepping even closer until the two were nearly nose to nose. His voice, thick with raw protectiveness, made your heart race. “If you ever touch her again, I swear to God, I’ll fuckin’ ruin you.”

Your husband let out a bitter laugh, but it was shaky, his attempt to save face pathetic in the face of Joel’s quiet, simmering rage.

He staggered back a step, shaking his head before sneering at you both. “Oh, I see what’s goin’ on here,” he spat, his voice laced with venom.

“You’ve been fucking her, haven’t you? That’s what this is about?” His eyes darted between you and Joel, a cruel smile tugging at his lips.

“Tell me, Joel, did you feel how loose and boring she is? I bet she was a real disappointment, huh?”

Before you could even process his disgusting words, Joel’s fist connected with your husband’s face with a sickening crack.

The impact was swift and brutal, and your husband stumbled back, clutching his nose as blood dripped down his chin. Joel stood there, fists still clenched, chest heaving with anger, the air around him charged with a lethal energy.

“Stop!” you yelled, stepping forward, your voice sharp, cutting through the thick tension.

Joel froze, his eyes flicking to you, still blazing with fury but full of concern for you.

Silence fell over the garden, the only sound the shallow, ragged breaths of your husband as he staggered, dazed from the hit.

You walked slowly toward your husband, his eyes filled with confusion as he held his bloodied nose, clearly assuming you were going to stop Joel, to protect him.

But when you reached him, your face set in stone, you didn’t hesitate.

With all the pent-up anger and frustration that had been festering inside you for so long, you pulled back your fist and punched him—hard.

The sound of your fist connecting with his face echoed through the quiet garden, and your husband reeled, stumbling backward as shock registered in his eyes.

He stared at you, dumbfounded, as if he couldn’t believe what had just happened.

His hand shot up to his cheek, his mouth hanging open as he tried to process the fact that you—the woman he had treated like a doormat for so long—had just hit him.

“You… you hit me,” he stammered, his voice weak, his face twisted in disbelief.

“That’s right,” you spat, your voice trembling with a mixture of anger and adrenaline. “I did. And you’re damn lucky that’s all I did after everything you’ve put me through.”

Your husband blinked, still stunned, and you took a deep breath, the years of silence finally cracking open inside you like a dam breaking.

The words poured out before you could stop them, raw and trembling.

“You have no idea how lonely I’ve been,” you whispered, your voice shaking as the weight of it all hit you.

“You don’t know what it’s like to feel invisible. To wake up every morning next to someone who doesn’t even see you. I used to beg for you to notice me—just a smile, a touch, anything to make me feel like I wasn’t completely alone. But you never did. Never once.”

Your voice broke, and you fought to keep the tears from spilling over, but the dam was already gone, and the hurt kept pouring out. “I gave you everything. Every part of me. And you just… took. You took until there was nothing left of me. Do you know what that’s like? To feel so empty that you don’t even recognize yourself anymore? To look in the mirror and not know who you are because all you’ve been doing for years is trying to keep someone else’s life together?”

You took a step closer, and your husband stumbled back slightly, the confusion and shock still etched on his face, but you didn’t stop. The words kept coming, like a wound that had been festering for years finally being ripped open.

“I used to think it was my fault. That if I could just be better, or prettier, or more fun, you might actually love me again. But I realize now… you never loved me. Not the real me. You loved the idea of me, the version that made your life easier. The one who cleaned up your messes, who stayed quiet while you drank yourself into oblivion, who pretended not to see when you looked at other women, when you lied to my face.”

Your voice cracked, but you didn’t stop. You couldn’t. “Do you know what it’s like to go to bed every night wondering if this is it? If this is all your life is ever going to be? Wondering why the person who’s supposed to love you the most can’t even bring himself to ask if you’re okay? I’ve spent years screaming inside, trying to get you to see me, but you never did.”

Tears streamed down your face, hot and unchecked, but you didn’t wipe them away. The pain was too raw, too suffocating to hold back any longer. Your voice trembled, your words thick with heartbreak as you finally let the truth spill out. “I was empty. So damn empty, and you never noticed. Not once.”

The ache in your chest deepened as the words left your lips. “You were so wrapped up in your own world, your own needs, that you never saw me breaking apart. I would lie next to you in bed, feeling more alone than I ever did when I was by myself.”

You swallowed hard, the tears making your voice hoarse but stronger. “I used to be alive. I used to have dreams. And then… you. You came in and made me believe that love meant sacrificing everything. That love meant shrinking myself, staying small so you could feel big.”

The tears continued to fall, but there was no stopping now. “I gave you everything, and you gave me nothing but empty promises and cold shoulders. I waited for you to see me, to really see me, but you never did. You didn’t even try. You never looked past what you wanted and into what I needed. I stayed up nights waiting for you to come home, hoping this time you’d talk to me like a partner, like someone who mattered. But all I ever got was silence. Silence and empty space where love was supposed to be.”

Your husband’s face went pale, the blood still dripping from his nose, but you didn’t care. He opened his mouth to speak, but you cut him off, your voice sharp, cutting through his pathetic attempts to muster an excuse.

“And the worst part?” you continued, your voice cracking with the weight of your sorrow. “The worst part is how long I convinced myself this was normal. That this was what love looked like. I thought that if I worked harder, if I could just be more patient, more understanding, that maybe you’d love me again. Maybe you’d remember who I was. But no. You just kept taking and I kept fading away until there was nothing left of me but a ghost in this house.”

You took a step closer, staring him dead in the eyes, the pain burning in your chest. “You made me feel like I wasn’t worth fighting for. Like I wasn’t worth anything. I was so fucking lonely, screaming inside for someone to save me, but you never came. You never gave a damn.”

His mouth opened again, but you weren’t finished. “No. You don’t get to speak. You don’t get to tell me it wasn’t that bad, or that I’m overreacting. Because you weren’t there. You never were. I’ve been doing this alone for so long, I forgot what it felt like to have someone who actually gives a shit. And now… now I’m done pretending.”

You wiped your eyes, your voice steadying as you spoke the final words that had been weighing on you for years. “I’m done living this half-life. I’m done waiting for something that will never come. You don’t own me. You never did. I’m not your shadow, I’m not your convenience, and I’m not your victim anymore. I deserve more. I deserve love. And you… you’ll never be capable of giving that.”

The silence that followed was suffocating. Your husband stood there, shell-shocked, his face twisted in disbelief, his hand still clutching his bloodied nose. He had no words, no defense for what you had just said.

For the first time, he looked small, like the empty, hollow man he had always been.

You took one last deep breath, your heart racing with both fear and relief. “I’m leaving, and there’s nothing you can say to stop me. I’m reclaiming my life, and I’m not looking back.”

As you reached the end of your words, something raw and unfiltered clawed its way to the surface. The years of frustration, of being neglected not only emotionally but physically, boiled over. You stopped in your tracks, your body trembling with the last surge of anger that had been buried for too long.

You turned back, eyes blazing, your voice rising with a mix of fury and bitterness as you screamed, “And you never once made me cum! It’s hard to be fun when you’ve been looking for my clit for four fucking years!”

The words hit him like a slap, and for the first time, you saw him truly speechless—stunned, humiliated. His face paled, his mouth hanging open, but he had nothing. No snarky comeback, no excuse. Just the weight of your truth hanging in the air, cutting through the night like a knife.

Without waiting for his response, you turned and walked toward Joel, who had been standing nearby, his face dark with anger but softening as you approached. His arms wrapped around you, pulling you into his strong, steady embrace, his hand resting firmly against your back, grounding you in the reality that you were no longer trapped.

“You ready?” Joel asked, his voice a low rumble filled with both protectiveness and admiration.

You nodded, your voice barely above a whisper, but filled with a sense of freedom you hadn’t felt in years. “Yeah. I’m ready.”

You walked away with Joel, leaving behind the remnants of your broken past. With each step, the weight lifted from your shoulders, lighter and lighter, until you could breathe again.

The pain was still there, the scars from years of neglect and loneliness etched into your heart, but now—finally—you were free. Free to be seen. Free to be loved. Free to be whole again. And as Joel’s arm wrapped around you protectively, you knew you were walking toward something new, something real.

And you weren’t walking alone.

· · ────

You and Joel walked toward his truck, the night air felt cooler, like a breath of relief after the storm. The intensity of everything that had just happened lingered in the air between you, heavy and electric.

Joel hadn’t said much, but his presence was solid, grounding you as your emotions swirled inside—rage, heartbreak, and an overwhelming sense of freedom.

When you reached his truck, the reality of the moment hit you all at once. You were leaving it all behind—the years of loneliness, the pain, the person who never saw you.

And here was Joel, the man who had seen you, stood up for you, fought for you. He had protected your honor without hesitation, and now, as he opened the door to his truck for you, the weight of his quiet strength was impossible to ignore.

The emotions welled up inside you—gratitude, relief, desire. You turned to him, your heart pounding, and before you could think, you stepped toward him, your hands reaching up to pull him closer. Joel’s eyes widened slightly, but he didn’t hesitate. His hand came up to cradle the back of your head, his touch gentle but firm, and in that moment, you couldn’t hold back anymore.

You kissed him. Deeply. Fiercely.

It wasn’t a soft kiss; it was full of everything you had been holding inside for so long. The passion, the desperation, the need to feel alive, to feel wanted. Your lips pressed against his, and he responded instantly, his other hand wrapping around your waist, pulling you tightly against him. The kiss was a collision of all the emotions you both carried—his protectiveness, your desire, the mutual recognition that this was right.

Joel kissed you like he had been waiting for this moment forever, his lips moving against yours with a hunger that made your heart race. You could feel the tension of the night melt away, replaced by the heat building between you, his breath mingling with yours as he deepened the kiss, his grip tightening slightly around your waist.

The world around you faded, the only thing that mattered was the feel of his lips, the warmth of his body pressed against yours. Your hands moved up into his hair, pulling him even closer, not wanting the moment to end. It was more than just a kiss—it was an affirmation, a promise that you weren’t alone anymore.

When you finally pulled back, breathless, your forehead rested against his, both of you still holding each other tightly. Joel’s eyes were dark, filled with a mixture of desire and something deeper—something that made your heart swell.

“I’ve got you, darlin’,” he whispered, his voice rough with emotion, his thumb brushing gently against your cheek. “Always.”

· · ────

As Joel drove down the dark, empty road, the tension between you was thick and electric. You couldn’t stop thinking about him—how fiercely he had defended you, how protective he had been. Every inch of him radiated strength, and the need inside you was unbearable. You needed to feel him, taste him, let him fill the aching void that had been growing all night.

Without a second thought, you leaned over, your lips pressing against the side of his neck. You could feel his pulse quicken under your touch, his skin warm and rough with stubble. “Baby,” Joel growled, his voice low and strained as he kept his eyes on the road. “Slow down, you’ve been through so much tonight.”

But you couldn’t stop yourself, couldn’t resist the heat building between you. “I don’t care,” you whispered, your breath hot against his neck as your hands moved down, trailing over his chest and then lower to his lap. “I need you, Joel. Please, let me take care of you.” Your voice was full of need, thick with desperation as your lips trailed down to his collarbone.

Joel groaned softly as you kissed down his neck, trailing wet, open-mouthed kisses along the column of his throat. You could feel the heat radiating from him, his body tense under your touch as your lips continued to explore every inch of skin you could reach.

“Fuck, I can’t wait anymore,” you whimpered, your voice thick with urgency as you pressed your lips against the hard bulge straining against the rough fabric of his jeans. The heat of him was intoxicating, the pressure of his cock beneath your lips sending a fresh wave of arousal through your body. “Please, Joel… I need you. I need to taste you, to feel you on my tongue.”

You kissed him again, harder this time, your lips dragging over his clothed cock as you looked up at him with wide, pleading eyes. “Let me suck your cock, Joel. Please. I’ll be so good for you. I’ll take you so deep, baby. I need it so bad, I can’t stand it anymore.”

Your breath was hot against him, your lips moving up and down his clothed length as you kissed and licked over the thick bulge, tasting the rough fabric but craving the feel of him, hot and heavy, against your tongue. “Please, baby,” you begged, your voice almost a whimper. “I need it. I need to feel you in my mouth, to taste every inch of you. Let me make you feel good.”

Your hands roamed over his thighs, squeezing gently as you continued to kiss and worship his cock through his jeans. “I’ve been waiting for this,” you whispered between kisses, your lips brushing the head of his clothed cock. “Dreaming about having you in my mouth, tasting you. I need to feel you filling my mouth, baby. Please. Please let me suck your cock.”

You could feel him twitch beneath the fabric, his restraint slipping as you licked him through his jeans, teasing him, your breath hot and needy against him. “I’ll be so good to you,” you whispered, your voice trembling with desire. “I’ll take you deep, I promise. Let me feel you on my tongue, Joel. I’ll make you feel so fucking good. Please… I need it so bad.”

Joel’s breath hitched, his grip tightening on the steering wheel as your hand slipped inside his jeans, finding his thick, hard cock waiting for you. “Jesus, darlin’,” he muttered through clenched teeth, trying to focus on the road. “You’re gonna drive me fuckin’ crazy.”

You licked your lips, not wasting a second as you freed him from his jeans, his cock thick and heavy in your hand, already leaking precum. You leaned down, licking the head, tasting the saltiness of him as you swirled your tongue around the tip. Joel groaned loudly, his hips jerking slightly as you teased him.

“Fuck,” he hissed, his voice strained. “You really want this, don’t ya?”

“Fuck, look at you,” Joel groaned, his voice full of filthy praise. “Suckin’ me so fuckin’ good, just like you said. You love this cock, don’t you? Been waitin’ to taste it, to feel it stretchin’ that tight mouth of yours.”

You whimpered in response, taking him deeper, your lips stretched tight around his thick length as you bobbed your head, sucking harder, your tongue flicking over the sensitive underside of his cock. His groans filled the truck, dark and full of possession, as if he couldn’t believe he had you like this, your mouth worshipping him.

“Yeah, baby, just like that,” Joel panted, his hand slipping from the wheel to thread through your hair, guiding your movements.

You moaned softly in response, taking him deeper into your mouth, sucking him in slow, deliberate strokes. You hollowed your cheeks, letting your tongue tease the sensitive underside of his cock as you moved up and down, your hand stroking the base in time with your mouth. The weight of him felt perfect, and you wanted to taste every inch.

“Goddamn, baby,” Joel growled, his voice thick with need. “You feel so fuckin’ good. Keep goin’, just like that.”

“That’s it, darlin’, fuck, you’re so good at this,” Joel growled, his hips bucking slightly into your mouth, fucking your throat just a little harder now. “You’re gonna take it all, aren’t ya? Every last fuckin’ inch. This cock is yours now, baby. You gotta take care of it.”

His grip tightened in your hair as he guided you, pushing you down further, groaning as he felt the head of his cock hit the back of your throat. You gagged slightly, but it only spurred you on, your tongue swirling around him as you took him deeper.

“You’re so fuckin’ dirty, beggin’ for it like this,” Joel grunted, his voice thick with possession. “You love it, don’t ya? Love feelin’ me fillin’ that sweet mouth of yours. You’re mine now, baby. No one else is ever gonna touch you again. You’re all fuckin’ mine.”

You moaned around his cock, the vibrations making him twitch in your mouth. You wanted more—you wanted to take all of him. Without hesitating, you moved lower, letting your tongue trail down his shaft to his balls, licking and sucking them gently. Joel’s breath hitched, his body tensing as you lavished attention on his balls, your hands still stroking his cock as your tongue teased the sensitive skin.

“Shit,” Joel gasped, his voice rough as his hips bucked. “You’re fuckin’ incredible… that mouth of yours…”

You sucked one of his balls into your mouth, letting it fill your cheeks as your tongue swirled around it slowly, savoring every second. Your hand still worked his thick cock, stroking him steadily, feeling him pulse in your grip as his body tensed.

Joel’s breathing had turned ragged, his grip on the steering wheel tightening as he tried to keep the truck steady. The raw desire that radiated from him only made you hungrier for more.

You moved your lips lower, taking his other ball into your mouth, your tongue gently massaging him, your mouth hot and wet as you worshipped him. “Fuck, Joel,” you whimpered, your voice muffled by the weight of him. “I love the way you taste… I want all of you in my mouth. Let me feel it. Let me swallow it all, baby. Please, I need to taste you.”

Joel groaned low in his throat, his hips bucking slightly as your tongue traced the sensitive skin of his balls. “Goddamn, baby… you’re so fuckin’ filthy. So desperate for my cock, aren’t you?” His voice was rough, strained, and dripping with satisfaction. “You’re finally mine now, huh? That sweet mouth of yours… all fuckin’ mine.”

You moaned around his balls, the vibrations sending a jolt of pleasure through him, making him twitch in your hand. You stroked him faster, your fingers curling around the base of his cock as your mouth worked him over, licking and sucking every inch of him. The scent of him, the taste of him—it was overwhelming, and you couldn’t get enough. You wanted him to fall apart for you, to feel how much you craved him.

You pulled back for a second, pressing wet kisses along the length of his cock, trailing your tongue from the base to the tip before dipping back down to his balls. “Please, Joel,” you begged again, your voice trembling with desperation. “I want to feel you cum in my mouth, baby. I need to swallow every drop, to taste all of you. I need you so fucking bad.”

Joel’s breath hitched, his cock throbbing in your hand as you sucked his balls back into your mouth, gently massaging them with your tongue, taking your time to worship every inch of him. He let out a low growl, his voice filled with lust. “You want me to fill that pretty little mouth of yours, don’t ya?” he rasped, his hips lifting slightly, pressing himself deeper into your mouth. “Fuck… you’re finally all mine, baby. Gonna make sure you never forget it.”

You moaned around him again, your hand pumping his cock faster as your tongue worked over his sensitive head, wet and hot. The weight of him in your mouth, the taste of his skin—it made your whole body ache with need. You wanted to please him, to make him lose control, to take him over the edge. You needed it, craved it like nothing else.

“You love this, don’t you?” Joel groaned, his voice thick with possession. “Suckin’ my balls like a good girl… takin’ my cock so fuckin’ deep. You’re mine now, aren’t ya?”

You pulled back just enough to whisper, “Yes, Joel. I’m yours. All yours. I’ll do anything for you.”

Without waiting for his response, you wrapped your lips around his cock again, taking him deep into your mouth, your hand working the base as your tongue swirled around the head. You sucked him harder, your mouth moving in perfect rhythm with your hand, and you could feel the tension building in his body, his cock throbbing as he neared the edge.

“Fuck, baby,” Joel growled, his voice thick with need. “I’m gonna cum… I’m gonna fill that perfect mouth of yours, and you’re gonna swallow every fuckin’ drop.”

You moaned in response, your mouth working him faster, your hand stroking him harder as you felt him pulse in your mouth. His grip tightened on your hair, guiding your movements as he bucked his hips, fucking your throat in short, sharp thrusts.

“Take it all, baby,” Joel groaned, his voice rough with pleasure as he came, his cock throbbing as he spilled into your mouth, hot and thick. You swallowed greedily, your lips wrapped tightly around him, taking everything he had to give, your tongue swirling around the head as you drained him completely.

“Good girl,” he murmured, his voice hoarse and full of satisfaction. “That’s it, baby… take every last bit.”

Joel’s breath was still ragged as he came down from the high, but when you tried to move, his hand stayed firm in your hair. “Not so fast, baby,” he growled softly, the dark possessiveness in his voice making your heart race. “Clean me up real slow, now. Real gentle.”

His cock, still glistening and sensitive, twitched as he guided your head back toward it, his fingers threading through your hair. “Yeah… that’s it,” Joel muttered, his voice thick with satisfaction. “Lick up every drop, baby. You’ve gotta take care of what’s yours now, huh? This cock’s all yours, so show me how good you can be.”

Your tongue flicked out, gently running over his shaft, cleaning him up just like he wanted, savoring the musky taste of his release. Joel’s grip on your hair loosened slightly, but he was still guiding you, his voice low and filthy as he watched you work.

“Hmm, yeah… now the balls again,” he whispered, his tone coaxing, yet commanding. “You love those, don’t you? Go ahead, baby. Show ‘em some love.”

You eagerly obeyed, sucking one of his balls into your mouth, rolling it gently with your tongue, while your hand continued to stroke his still-hard cock. Joel groaned, his fingers tightening in your hair as he let out a deep, satisfied growl.

“Fuck, that’s my girl,” he rasped, his breath heavy with desire. “Takin’ care of me so fuckin’ good. You’re such a good girl, aren’t ya?”

You hummed in response, letting your mouth worship every inch of him, moving between his balls and his cock, savoring the way he throbbed under your touch. Joel’s low grunts of approval sent shivers through you, making you ache for more.

“Good job, baby,” he murmured, his voice husky as you finished, licking him clean. “Such a good girl, makin’ sure this cock’s taken care of. This is yours now—every inch of it. No one else’s. Gotta make sure it’s ready whenever you need it.”

You pulled back slowly, meeting his gaze with a breathless smile. His cock was still wet from your attention, twitching slightly, and you could see the fire still burning in his dark eyes.

Joel reached down, brushing his thumb across your lips, smirking at the sight of you kneeling before him. “All clean, baby. You did good. So fuckin’ good,” he said, his voice filled with possessive pride. “This is what a real man gives you, huh? What you deserve.”

His thumb slipped inside your mouth, and you sucked on it gently, your eyes never leaving his, still drunk on the power of what you’d just shared. Joel’s hand slid down your cheek, cupping your face, his voice dropping to a possessive murmur.

"Yeah… you’re mine now. Gonna fuck you whenever I want, fill you up however I want," Joel growled, his voice dark and full of lust. “Don’t forget—you belong to me now, baby. This cock’s yours, but you’re mine.”

As Joel’s breath finally steadied, his hand released its tight grip on you, and a low chuckle rumbled from his chest. His eyes flickered down to you, dark with a mix of lust and admiration, while his other hand remained firm on the steering wheel, still guiding the truck along the winding road.

“All that,” he murmured, his voice rough and teasing, “while I’m still makin’ sure we survive this damn drive.”

You wiped the corner of your mouth, smiling up at him, the taste of him still fresh on your tongue. The hum of the engine and the rhythmic pulse of the road beneath the tires kept you grounded in reality, but the fire between you burned even brighter.

Joel shifted slightly in his seat, his cock still twitching from the aftermath. “You’re somethin’ else, baby,” he growled softly, his hand brushing against your thigh possessively, fingers lingering just to remind you that this was far from over. “But I ain’t done with you yet. When we stop, I’m gonna make sure you feel every inch of me. All night.”

You smiled to yourself, knowing full well that the night was far from over. The tension still hummed in the air, thick and heady, as Joel drove on, the road stretching out ahead of you like the beginning of something you both had waited far too long for.

· · ────

8 months later.

The sun had just started to dip below the horizon, casting a warm, golden light across Joel’s living room, illuminating the soft textures of the couch beneath you as you lay there, soaking in the quiet comfort of your surroundings. The room felt peaceful, but there was something more—something that wrapped around you like a blanket of gratitude. You had never felt this kind of peace before, this kind of contentment.

You lay back, resting your head against a cushion as you watched Joel and Sarah from across the room, both of them caught up in some playful argument over something silly. Sarah was laughing, her face bright with amusement as she playfully swatted at Joel’s arm. Joel, pretending to be exasperated, let out an exaggerated sigh, but you could see the smile tugging at his lips as he grabbed a pillow and tossed it gently in Sarah’s direction.

“Watch it, old man!” Sarah teased, dodging the pillow as she laughed.

“Old man?” Joel shot back, his eyebrows raising in mock offense. “I’ll show you ‘old man,’ kid.”

The two of them wrestled and teased each other, their laughter filling the room, and you couldn’t help but smile as you watched them. This was your life now—this warmth, this love. It still felt surreal, like you were living in a dream you hadn’t quite woken from yet. How had you gotten here? How had you found something so precious after so many years of feeling lost and unseen?

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, not from sadness, but from pure gratitude. This was everything you had ever wanted—family, love, and the feeling of being seen. You wiped at your eyes with the back of your hand, letting the joy wash over you as you continued to watch them play fight, their laughter like music in the background.

Eight months ago, this life had seemed impossible.

Eight months ago, you were trapped. The woman you were back then was unrecognizable now—desperate, aching for a way out, for someone to see her, for someone to care. You had spent years in a marriage that had drained you, years trying to be someone you weren’t, trying to make something work that had been broken from the start.

The divorce had been a long time coming, but that didn’t make it any easier. You remembered the fear that had clawed at you as you walked into that courtroom, the uncertainty of leaving behind something that had been your entire life for so long. But Joel had been there with you, steady and solid. He had never wavered, and just knowing he was there had made the difference.

The memory of that day was still so clear. You had walked out of that courthouse feeling lighter, feeling free. And then—Joel. You closed your eyes for a moment, letting the memory wash over you like a wave.

You had barely made it out of the courtroom, the finality of the judge’s ruling still ringing in your ears when the weight of everything hit you. It was like a rush of adrenaline, a mixture of relief and fear and something electric that sparked deep inside you. You had glanced at Joel, his steady presence grounding you, but the look in his eyes—dark, full of unspoken things—had sent a shiver down your spine.

Without thinking, you had grabbed his hand and pulled him into the nearest bathroom, the door slamming shut behind you. Your heart had been pounding in your chest, the rush of emotions swirling in your mind, but it had been the desire—the need—that took over. The need to feel alive, to feel like you had control over your life again.

Joel hadn’t hesitated. His hands had been on you in an instant, pulling you against him as his lips crashed into yours. “Fuck, baby,” he had growled against your mouth, his voice thick with lust. “You’re finally mine.”

His words had sent a bolt of heat through you, your fingers already fumbling with his belt, desperate to feel him. You hadn’t cared that it was reckless, that anyone could walk in. All you had cared about was the way his hands gripped your waist, the way he pressed you up against the bathroom stall, his breath hot against your neck.

You whimpered as his hands slid up your thighs, pushing your skirt up in one swift motion. His touch was rough, urgent, but filled with a possessive tenderness that made your head spin. “He didn’t deserve you,” Joel muttered against your neck, his lips brushing your skin as his hands yanked your panties down. “Never fuckin’ deserved you. But I do. I’m gonna show you what it feels like to be with a real man.”

Your breath hitched as he spun you around, pressing your chest against the cold metal door, his fingers slipping between your legs to find you already soaking wet. “Fuck, baby,” Joel groaned, his voice thick with desire. “You’re so wet for me already. Bet you’ve been waitin’ for this.”

“Please,” you whimpered, pushing your hips back toward him, desperate for him to fill you. “I need you, Joel. I can’t wait anymore.”

He chuckled darkly, his fingers teasing your slick folds before pulling away. You heard the sound of his zipper, then the heat of his cock pressing against your entrance. “You were too fuckin’ good for him,” Joel growled, his breath hot against your ear as he gripped your hips. “But now you’re mine, baby. You belong to me.”

Without warning, he thrust into you, filling you in one deep, rough stroke. You gasped, your hands bracing against the door as Joel’s cock stretched you, his pace immediately hard and fast. He wasn’t holding back, and you didn’t want him to.

“Goddamn, baby,” Joel groaned, his voice rough and low as he fucked into you. “You feel so fuckin’ good. So tight around me. No one’s ever gonna touch you again. You understand?”

You moaned, your body trembling as he drove into you harder, each thrust pushing you closer to the edge. “Yes,” you gasped, your voice breathless. “Joel—oh God, you feel so good. No one’s ever—”

“Damn right,” Joel growled, cutting you off as his hand slid down between your legs, his fingers finding your clit. “He never touched you like this, did he? Never fucked you like you deserved. But I’m gonna make you cum so fuckin’ hard, you won’t remember his name. Everyday.”

His fingers rubbed tight, deliberate circles on your clit, and your body arched against him, your legs trembling as you felt yourself getting closer and closer. “Joel,” you whimpered, your hands gripping the door for support. “I’m gonna—fuck, I’m gonna cum—”

“Cum for me, baby,” Joel groaned, his voice rough and demanding. “Show me who this pussy belongs to.”

With a cry, you came hard around his cock, your entire body shaking as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over you. Joel didn’t slow down, his pace becoming erratic as he chased his own release.

“Fuck,” he groaned, his voice thick with possession. “I’m gonna fill you up, baby. Gonna fuckin’ pump you full. Make sure you never forget who owns you now.”

With one final, deep thrust, Joel groaned loudly, spilling inside you, his cock pulsing as he filled you with his cum. The heat of him filling you made your head spin, your body still trembling as he leaned against you, catching his breath.

His hands slid up your sides, his touch softer now, his lips pressing gentle kisses to the back of your neck. “You’re mine now,” he murmured, his voice thick with both lust and something deeper, something softer. “No one else is ever gonna touch you. I’ll treat you so fuckin’ good, baby. You’ll never want for anything again.”

The memory faded as you blinked back into the present, the warmth of the room bringing you back to the reality of now. But the echoes of that courthouse moment still lingered, like a secret you shared with Joel, one that shaped everything between you.

You realized, belatedly, that both Joel and Sarah had stopped their playful banter and were looking at you, concern in their eyes. Joel stood there, his brows furrowed slightly, and Sarah had that soft, inquisitive look she wore when she was worried.

“Everything okay?” Joel asked, his voice low and gentle as he took a small step toward you.

Sarah shot him a quick look before turning back to you, her eyes wide and warm. “You look sad,” she said softly. Then, without another word, she launched herself across the room, flopping dramatically onto the couch and onto your lap, her arms wrapping around you in a tight hug.

The sudden weight of Sarah’s embrace, the way she was trying to comfort you in her own dramatic way, made you laugh, and the sound broke through the heaviness of the moment. “I’m not sad, honey,” you said, your voice soft and warm as you hugged her back. “I’m just… thinking.”

Joel’s eyes softened as he watched the two of you, the corner of his mouth twitching into a small smile. He crossed the room, sitting down beside you on the couch, his hand finding its place on your thigh as he leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your temple.

Sarah, always the observer, sat up and shot Joel a mischievous grin. “You better cuddle her too, Dad,” she teased, though the way she said it made it clear she wasn’t going to take no for an answer.

Joel chuckled, his arm sliding around your shoulders as he tugged you closer, his lips brushing lightly against your cheek. “She’s right,” he murmured, his voice a deep rumble. “What’s goin’ on in that pretty head of yours, darlin’? You seemed miles away.”

You leaned into the warmth of Joel’s body, resting your head on his shoulder as you let out a soft sigh. “I was just… thinking about everything. About the day we finalized the divorce,” you admitted, your voice quiet. “About how different everything is now.”

Sarah wiggled herself into your lap, cuddling into your chest as she peered up at you. “You’re happy now though, right?” she asked, her voice small but sure.

You looked down at her, a wave of emotion swelling in your chest as you ran your fingers through her hair. “So happy,” you whispered, the words thick with truth. “I wouldn’t change this for anything.”

Joel kissed the top of your head, his arm tightening around you. “You don’t ever have to look back again, baby,” he said softly, his voice full of the quiet reassurance you’d come to love so much. “You’re right where you belong now, with us.”

You smiled, feeling the overwhelming warmth of their love wrap around you, and you pressed a soft kiss to Sarah’s forehead before turning to Joel. “I know,” you whispered, leaning in to kiss him, your lips brushing against his in a slow, tender moment.

Joel kissed you back, soft and lingering, his hand gently cupping your cheek. His thumb brushed over your skin, and when he pulled away, he smiled, his eyes searching yours with a warmth that made your heart swell. “You’re our family now,” he murmured, his voice soft but filled with conviction. “And we’re gonna keep makin’ sure you’re happy. Always.”

Sarah squirmed between the two of you, giggling at the closeness, clearly teasing but with a smile that lit up her entire face. “Okay, okay! I get it, you guys love each other,” she laughed, wriggling out of your lap and stretching her arms out. “But don’t go all mushy on me now.”

You and Joel both chuckled, the sound blending with the easy warmth that had filled the room. You reached out, ruffling Sarah’s hair playfully, and her mock annoyance only made you smile wider. Joel’s deep chuckle rumbled next to you, his arm wrapped around your waist, drawing you a little closer.

But as the moment settled, Joel leaned in, his voice dropping low so only you could hear, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. “Later tonight, though,” he whispered, his tone thick with promise, “I’ll remind you just how much I love you. Can’t wait to get you all alone, baby.”

You felt a flush of heat bloom over your skin, your heart racing at the teasing edge in Joel’s voice. His hand slipped down to your hip, squeezing gently, and though his gaze was soft, the intensity in his words sent a shiver through you.

But as the warmth of the moment settled around you, a wave of emotion washed over you, deeper than anything physical. Tears welled up in your eyes, not from sadness, but from the overwhelming happiness you never thought you’d feel again. It wasn’t just about desire—it was about being seen, about being loved in a way that made you feel whole.

You blinked quickly, trying to keep the tears at bay, but they weren’t tears of pain or regret. They were the kind that come when you realize you’ve found the place you belong, the kind that make you feel grounded and safe. You felt Joel’s arm tighten around you, as if he could sense your emotions without you saying a word, and when you glanced up at him, his eyes were filled with nothing but love.

“You okay, baby?” Joel asked softly, his thumb gently brushing over your cheek again, the warmth in his gaze steady and comforting.

You nodded, smiling through the tears, your heart swelling with gratitude for the life you had now. “I’m more than okay,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. “I’m just… so happy. I didn’t think I could feel like this again.”

Sarah, still nestled beside you, glanced up, catching the tearful look on your face and frowning in concern. “Are you crying?” she asked, her voice soft but curious.

You let out a small laugh, ruffling her hair again as you quickly wiped away a tear. “I’m crying because I’m happy,” you assured her, your voice trembling slightly. “I’m so lucky to have you both.”

Sarah’s face brightened with a smile, and she wrapped her arms around you in a tight hug, her warmth spreading through you like a blanket. Joel leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your temple, and the quiet, comforting presence of him grounded you even further.

In that moment, surrounded by the two people who had become your everything, you knew this was what it meant to be truly loved, to be seen. And you couldn’t imagine your life any other way.

Joel’s hand squeezed yours gently, his eyes filled with that same warmth that always made your heart race. “We’re the lucky ones, baby,” he said quietly, his voice low and tender. “Don’t know what we’d do without you.”

Sarah, sensing the emotional weight of the moment, smiled up at you before wrapping her arms around you again. “You’re stuck with us now!” she teased, her tone light, but the meaning behind her words was clear. She meant it, and you felt it—this was where you were meant to be.

You let out a small laugh, feeling a deep warmth settle in your chest. For so long, you had been lost in a life that didn’t belong to you, stuck in a marriage where you felt invisible, forgotten. But now, sitting here with Joel and Sarah, you realized just how far you’d come. You had broken free from that prison, taken control of your own story, and allowed yourself to be loved and seen in a way you never thought possible.

Life can change, you thought. Sometimes, all it takes is one decision—a choice to put yourself first, to demand more, to refuse to settle for anything less than what you deserve. You had once believed that you were trapped, that your life was set in stone, but you now knew better. You had the power to change things, to rewrite your story, and to choose happiness.

Joel’s arm tightened around you, pulling you even closer as Sarah continued to chatter about her day, her laughter filling the room. You smiled, feeling the love in the air, the sense of belonging that had once felt so foreign to you.

“Situations change,” you whispered softly, almost to yourself, but Joel heard you. His lips pressed gently against your temple, a quiet reminder of his unwavering presence by your side.

“They do,” he murmured, his voice warm and filled with pride. “And you had the strength to change yours.”

You nodded, resting your head against his shoulder, feeling the weight of those words settle deep within you. You had the power to make the change—to walk away from what no longer served you, to embrace the love and the life you knew you deserved. And now, as you sat there with the two people who meant the world to you, you realized that every struggle, every tear, had been worth it.

It wasn’t always easy, and there had been moments when you doubted yourself, moments when you wondered if you were making the right choice. But looking at Joel and Sarah now, you knew—without a doubt—that you were exactly where you were meant to be.

This was your new beginning. And it was beautiful.

As the evening light continued to fade, wrapping your home in a soft, golden glow, you closed your eyes and smiled. You had the power to shape your future, and this… this was just the start of something wonderful.

· · ───────────𖥸──────────· ··

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sarahs-secrets2 · 2 years ago

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can my husband post on Instagram again, i miss him

#sarah's secrets 2 #warren kole #phillip graves #philip graves #phillip graves cod #cod graves #graves cod #jeff sadecki #wes mitchell

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fandom · 1 year ago

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Books

Huge congrats to The Iliad. It's only taken 3,000 years. This list is brought to you by Tor Publishing Group, which you're probably familiar with, given what tops the list this year.

The Locked Tomb series +3 by Tamsyn Muir

The Percy Jackson & the Olympians series -1 by Rick Riordan

The Harry Potter series by J.K. Rowling

The Six of Crows duology +3 by Leigh Bardugo

Dracula -3 by Bram Stoker

The Warrior Cats series -1 by Erin Hunter

A Song of Ice and Fire -1 by George R. R. Martin

The All for the Game series by Nora Sakavic

The Discworld series +7 by Terry Pratchett

A Court of Thorns and Roses series +3 by Sarah J. Maas

The Silmarillion -1 by J. R. R. Tolkien

Pride And Prejudice -3 by Jane Austen

Frankenstein by Mary Shelley

The Raven Cycle series +3 by Maggie Stiefvater

The Sun and the Star by Rick Riordan & Mark Oshiro

The Vampire Chronicles by Anne Rice

Wings Of Fire +9 by Tui T. Sutherland

The Secret History -7 by Donna Tartt

The Trials of Apollo series -4 by Rick Riordan

The Iliad +10 by Homer

The Odyssey +24 by Homer

The Folk in the Air series -8 by Holly Black

The Animorphs series +5 by K. A. Applegate

The Stormlight Archive +8 by Brandon Sanderson

Diary of a Wimpy Kid by Jeff Kinney

Moby Dick +24 by Herman Melville

1984 +6 by George Orwell

Fables by Bill Willingham

The Diaries of Franz Kafka by Franz Kafka

The Song of Achilles -10 by Madeline Miller

The Last Hours series by Cassandra Clare

The Simon Snow series -10 by Rainbow Rowell

The Throne of Glass series +13 by Sarah J. Maas

Nimona by ND Stevenson

Magnus Chase and the Gods of Asgard +6 by Rick Riordan

The Bell Jar -15 by Sylvia Plath

The Dreamer trilogy +6 by Maggie Stiefvater

The Shadowhunter Chronicles -15 by Cassandra Clare

The Mistborn series by Brandon Sanderson

This Is How You Lose the Time War by Amal El-Mohtar & Max Gladstone

Captive Prince -1 by C. S. Pacat

The Twilight Saga -7 by Stephanie Meyer

The Sandman by Neil Gaiman

The Deltora Quest series by Jennifer Rowe

Romeo and Juliet -8 by William Shakespeare

The Far Side by Gary Larson

Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde +2 by Robert Lewis Stevenson

Calvin and Hobbes by Bill Watterson

The Picture of Dorian Gray -31 by Oscar Wilde

Good Omens by Terry Pratchett & Neil Gaiman

The number in italics indicates how many spots a title moved up or down from the previous year. Bolded titles weren’t on the list last year.

#year in review #books #tumblr2023

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favefandomimagines · 21 days ago

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loml (r.c)

SEASON 4 PART 2 SPOILERS!!!!

Request: @motherlanaenthusiast “So what if we do a Rafe x Maybank!reader where like maybe she was in morocco but she wasn’t with JJ when he died cuz she was doing smthn else so like they all have to break the news and that happens and then when like after when they’re back at Kildare Rafe like gets deja vu from s1&2 him because he sees reader going kinda crazy”

Summary: Rafe is the only person to save Y/N from a downward spiral.

AN: I will NEVER forgive the writers for this lol I went on a tangent with this one

The sun was blistering and casting a golden hue over the winding alleyways in Morocco. Rafe Cameron and Y/N Maybank moved through the maze of alleyways, their steps quick and purposeful, yet filled with a tension that spoke of something much deeper than their immediate surroundings.

Y/N was JJ Maybank’s twin sister, a spitfire with a wild heart who had once been the center of Rafe’s secret world. The two had shared a tumultuous fling, a secret affair that had started four years ago under the cover of darkness and ended just as abruptly. It was a relationship neither had ever fully acknowledged. Rafe was a Kook, while Y/N, like her brother JJ, was a Pogue, tale as old as time.

The shop was quiet, the group off to Charleston to follow the next clue. Y/N stayed behind to wait for her brother after he had wandered off “running errands.” The bell above the door jingled, and the soft sound broke through the silence.

Y/N was leaning against the counter, staring at her phone screen, scrolling through all the unread text messages to her brother.

"How can I help you?" she asked absently, not looking up from her phone.

She looked up and her breath got caught in her throat, the smile on Rafe Cameron's face grating against the air. He stood at the entrance, hands tucked casually in his pockets, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, keeping her tone even, though the familiar tension in her chest began to build. She’d never been able to shake the feeling of unease around him. Not since everything went down with Pope, the fight that ended whatever it was they had.

"Can't I just stop by and visit my local surf and bait shop?" Rafe said, taking a step inside, his eyes glinting mischievously.

Her eyes narrowed slightly. "You looking for Sarah?"

He shrugged nonchalantly. "Actually, yeah. I'm looking for Sarah."

She shook her head, setting the phone down with a soft click. "She doesn’t want to talk to you."

Rafe raised an eyebrow, the smirk still in place. "I think I can have a chat with my sister whenever I want."

"Not if she doesn't want to talk to you." Her words were firm, but there was a slight quiver in her voice that betrayed her more complicated feelings.

Rafe’s smirk didn’t falter as he took a few more steps forward, closing the distance between them. He placed his elbows on the counter, leaning in closer, the sudden proximity catching her off guard.

"I'm sorry about the drama at the beach the other day," he said, his voice lowering in an almost sincere tone. "With Ruthie and the turtles."

She didn’t respond right away, trying to keep her emotions in check. She could feel the weight of his words, but it didn’t change anything. Rafe was sorry—sorry for the mess he had created, maybe, but never for the things that had truly mattered.

"Don’t act like you care, Rafe," she replied, her voice steady despite the knot tightening in her stomach. "You only care about how things affect you. And I guess now Sofia."

He stared at her for a long moment, his gaze growing intense. The years of tension between them seemed to hang in the air, unresolved and unspoken. Then he said, his tone soft but firm, "We used to be so close, Y/N. What happened?"

She sucked in a breath, trying to push down the anger, the hurt, the past. "The drugs happened," she said slowly, her voice low. "Ward happened. Your anger happened."

His eyes darkened for a second, his jaw tightening. He opened his mouth to say something, but he closed it just as quickly. After a long, weighted silence, he took a half step back, his expression softening, just a little.

"I’m on your side, you know," he said quietly, the words almost a whisper, as though they were too important to rush. "I always have been."

The words hung between them, charged and heavy with meaning. She didn’t know what to say to that. She hadn’t known what to say to Rafe since the day he’d walked away, leaving everything torn apart in his wake.

Before she could respond, Rafe straightened, brushing his hand across his forehead as if clearing his thoughts. He turned toward the door, his back to her now. "I’ll be seeing you around," he muttered over his shoulder, the door swinging open as he left without another word.

Now, as they weaved through the ancient Moroccan city, they were older, scarred by the years of treasure hunts, betrayals, and broken friendships.

“Something doesn’t feel right,” Y/N said, stopping suddenly, her dark eyes scanning the shadowed alleyways. She had always been the one with the sixth sense, the one who could feel trouble like a storm on the horizon.

Rafe turned to her, his brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

But before she could answer, they heard Kiara’s voice, shrill and desperate, cutting through the noise of the bustling market.

“Y/N! John B! Pope!”

Y/N’s heart seized in her chest, and without another word, she took off in the direction of Kiara's cries, Rafe hot on her heels. They rounded a corner and found Kiara kneeling on the cobblestones, her face pale and streaked with tears. And lying there, motionless, was JJ.

“No, no, no,” Y/N whispered, her voice breaking as she fell to her knees beside her brother. Her hands trembled as she reached out to touch JJ’s face, his skin already growing cold under her fingertips.

“JJ, please,” she begged, her voice cracking, tears streaming down her face. “You can’t leave me. You promised.” She cried.

But there was no response, no flicker of life in those familiar blue eyes. It felt like the world had been ripped out from under her, like the ground had opened up to swallow her whole. Rafe stood behind her, his face pale, his fists clenched at his sides.

The group stood stunned, no one wanting to be the one to move. But they were in a busy, bustling city with a dead body. People would ask questions. “W-We have to get him out of here.” John B stammered. He moved to reach for Y/N, attempting to pry her off of her brother’s body.

Y/N fought against him, muttering things like ‘I’m not leaving him’ or ‘he can’t be alone.’ Rafe takes over for John B and has to use his strength to pull her up to her feet. He held her in his arms, close to his chest to avoid having to see her two best friends moving her brother.

At that moment, all he could really do was hold her.

Months had passed since that horrible day in Morocco, but for Y/N, time had ceased to exist. She was back in Kildare, but it was as if she was still stuck in that dark alleyway, kneeling beside her brother’s lifeless body.

Sarah Cameron was heavily pregnant, as she prepared for the birth of her first child with John B. It was supposed to be a time of joy and new beginnings, but the shadow of JJ’s death loomed over them all.

Y/N had fallen into a downward spiral, her grief consuming her. She drank herself into oblivion every night, stumbling through the streets of Kildare like a ghost. She would disappear for days, only to be found passed out on the beach or in the hammock outside her house. The Pogues tried to help her, but she pushed them all away, lost in her own pain.

Sarah had told Rafe about Y/N, how she was drowning in guilt for not being there when JJ had died. The words had hit Rafe like a punch to the gut, reminding him of his own spiral years ago, before his father had dragged him into the hunt for the Royal Merchant’s gold.

He couldn’t let that happen to Y/N. He wouldn’t. He loved her even if he couldn’t admit it.

So he found himself standing on the porch of the Maybank house, staring at the peeling paint on the front door. John B’s van was parked out front, and Rafe assumed he was there trying to talk some sense into Y/N.

A part of him thought ‘oh John B is here, I can come back later.’ But he couldn’t walk away, not this time.He’s walked away from her too many times.

He knocked, the sound echoing in the stillness of the early afternoon. John B opened the door, his face drawn and tired. “Sarah’s not here.” He told Rafe. “I’m not here for Sarah. I’m here for Y/N.” Rafe answered.

“She’s not doing well, man,” John B said, his voice low. “We don’t know what else to do. I think... I think she feels guilty for not being with JJ when it happened.”

Rafe nodded, his jaw tightening. “Let me talk to her.”

John B hesitated but finally stepped aside, letting Rafe through. The house was quiet, a stark contrast to the chaos that had always surrounded JJ.

Rafe walked down the hall to Y/N’s bedroom, the same room he used to sneak into all those years ago. All of the memories came flooding back as he stopped in front of the door. Nights that ended tangled up in her sheets. Other nights where she just wanted to be held after a fight with her dad.

Rafe pushed the door open to find her cocooned under the comforter, a bottle of vodka sitting on her nightstand.

“JB, please go away,” she mumbled, her voice raw and hoarse. Rafe assumed from a mixture of alcohol and crying.

“Not John B,” Rafe said softly.

Y/N stiffened, slowly emerging from under the covers, moving to sit up against her headboard. Her eyes were bloodshot, her face pale and gaunt. She looked like a shadow of the girl he once knew.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, her voice barely more than a whisper.

“I’m worried about you,” Rafe said, moving to sit on the edge of the mattress.

“Apparently everyone is,” she muttered, her eyes flicking away from him.

There was a heavy silence, the kind that was filled with all the things they had left unsaid for so many years. Rafe took a deep breath, trying to find the right words.

“Y/N... I know what it’s like to lose yourself,” he began, his voice steady. “I know what it’s like to drown. I was there once, you know that. Hell, I’m still trying to crawl my way out.”

She looked at him, her eyes filling with tears. “He was always afraid to be alone, and I left him alone,” she choked out. “I should have been there. I should have protected him.”

Rafe’s heart broke at the raw pain in her voice. “You can’t blame yourself for what happened, Y/N. JJ wouldn’t want that.”

“How would you know?” she snapped, her voice rising. “You never cared about him. About me.”

The words were like a slap in the face, but Rafe took it, knowing she was lashing out from a place of deep hurt. “You’re right,” he said quietly. “I didn’t care about JJ, and I pushed everyone away. But I always cared about you. And I don’t want to lose you to this, Y/N. I can’t.”

“I’m not your responsibility, Rafe.” Y/N muttered. “No but you’re the person I love.” Rafe replied. “You can’t say things like that.” She practically snapped. “Why not? You used to beg me to tell you how I felt and I finally am. I’m sorry it came so late and it’s happening because of this but I’ll be damned if another person I love gets hurt because I didn’t do anything to stop it.” Rafe told her.

She stared at him, the anger draining from her eyes, leaving only exhaustion. “I don’t know how to come back from this,” she whispered.

“Let me help you,” Rafe said, his voice breaking. “Please. Let me be there for you. You don’t have to do this alone.”

There was a long pause, and then, almost imperceptibly, she nodded. It was a small gesture, but it was enough.

“I’ll try,” she said, her voice trembling. “I’ll try to get better.”

“And I’ll be here,” Rafe promised, reaching out to take her hand. “Through it all. I’m not going anywhere.”

A year had passed since that day in Morocco. The sun was shining over the Outer Banks, the salty breeze carrying the sound of laughter and the distant crash of waves. The Pogues had gathered for a special occasion, a day of celebration and new beginnings.

Sarah and John B’s son, Jackson, was turning one today, and they were throwing a beach party in his honor. Y/N stood on the edge of the gathering, watching as Sarah bounced her son on her hip, his tiny hands reaching for the birthday cake.

Y/N was sober, clear-eyed, and for the first time in a long time, she felt like she could breathe again. She had fought her way out of the darkness with Rafe by her side, and though the pain of losing her brother would never fully fade, she was learning to live with it.

Rafe approached her, a soft smile on his lips. “You doing okay?” he asked, his voice gentle.

She nodded, turning to look at him. “Yeah, I think I am.”

He wrapped his arm around her shoulders, pulling her close. “I’m proud of you,” he whispered. “For everything.”

She leaned into him, letting the warmth of his embrace chase away the lingering shadows. “Thank you,” she said softly. “For not giving up on me.”

Rafe smiled down at her before she moved up on her toes and kissed him sweetly. “I love you, Rafe.” She spoke quietly. “I love you too.” He replied.

They stood there together, watching as their friends celebrated a new chapter of their lives, a chapter filled with hope and healing.

For the first time in a long time, Y/N believed that maybe, just maybe, everything was going to be okay.

#imagine #imagines #outer banks #jj maybank #rafe cameron #outer banks imagine #kiara carrera #john b routledge #rudy pankow #sarah cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron imagine #rafe outer banks

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joeloverture · 9 months ago

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snowbound | dbf!j.m. x f!reader

masterlist | updates blog | ao3 mirror pairing: dbf!joel miller x f!reader summary: [no outbreak] joel is the only guy you know with four wheel drive in the rarely-snowy state of texas, so it seems like a no-brainer to have him pick you up from work — until his truck breaks down, leaving you two to the classic 'huddle for warmth' solution. warnings: (18+ mdni) dbf!joel, age gap (assumed 20s/40s), reader borrows joel's coat, but does not wear it and uses it as a blanket, self-indulgent humor & banter, joel has sarah and she's a 15y/o menace which means liberties are taken with the timeline, blink & miss it drug mention, close proximity, unprotected piv sex, vaginal fingering, (mocking) dirty talk & dirty talk alluding to anal but no actual anal, daddy kink, degradation, dom!joel, brat!reader, brat tamer!joel, mild bondage (with a scarf), rearview mirror sex, clit stim, riding, doggy, a few pussy spanks, 2 spanks, truck sex, sort of edging, getting caught after the act [no use of y/n] word count: 12.3k a/n: this fic was a labor of love from a request i received earlier this month. i didn't expect it to be this long but i really enjoyed these two! massive massive massive shoutout to talia, @lovesickonmybed, for putting up with me + advising. this fic was way too much to handle on my own. they're the reason i pulled it off. joel is latino here, but i think game!joel can be interpreted as latino too, so read who you'd like.

“Looking ahead for our chances at wintry precipitation tonight – measurable snow, freezing rain, or sleet. It’s hard to get snow here in central Texas – if only, huh? We’re seeing some strong flurries tonight, turning into snow showers in the early morning. Low chances of any significant build up, but you can expect hazardous driving conditions. Black ice and low visibility will make extensive travel dangerous–”

The radio in Keith’s Hardware is old fashioned, curving around the volume and tuning knobs. It’s one of the ones that still has a dial pointer, which is almost always aimed at 92.7 if Keith’s in the back (country); 96.7 (pop) if it’s just you and the only other girl that works in the carpenter’s wet dream of a store. Right now, though, it’s neither of those stations. The pointer is at 162.4, the weather station.

You’d known you were in for it on the drive into work. Watch the weather and it’s real nasty out there airing from your parents lips on your way out of the house for your eight hour shift. The drive had been a gunmetal sort of gray, clouds streaked through the sky and spitting bullets of sleet at your windshield.

For a little bit, the weather had almost cleared up. You’d sworn you’d seen a splotch of sun when you’d tried to step out for break, just to be driven back in by your too-thin jacket and the cold as balls temperature.

Now, though? It’s fucking freezing, and the flurries that the weatherman mentioned are starting to fall. And as much as you’d told Keith that your shitty two-wheel-drive couldn’t handle it, he’d insisted on scheduling you and Liz for close.

Which is where Mr. Miller comes in.

Joel Miller, your dad’s buddy. Joel Miller, the grumpiest secret-softie you’ve ever met. Joel Miller, a knight in shining armor with his 4x4 Ford F150 instead of a horse. Although, if your fantasies are correct – and you like to think they are – what’s between his thighs certainly makes up for the lack of a horse. But he isn’t bringing you for a ride on his cock. He just so happens to be the only man your dad knows with a four wheel drive vehicle, or at least the only one willing to spare you from spinning out by giving you a ride home. Just thinking about it has a knot pinching in the back of your throat. His hands, big and wide and stretching over the gear shift. One muscled arm dangling over the wheel. Looking over his goddamn shoulder to back out —

Liz hops up on the check-out counter where you’re counting up the last of the cash, a spread of Hamiltons, Grants, and Jacksons. You wouldn’t expect a girl like her to work at a hardware store, especially one in the backstreets of the seedy part of town. Some sort of family emergency had driven her back to Austin from NYU design school, which you’re thankful for. Mainly because you get out of cutting wood panels since she has the better eye for measurements, but also because after years of sulking in Keith’s, you finally have someone to talk shit with.

“Those heart eyes aren’t for fuckin’ Alexander Hamilton,” Liz says, tapping her acrylics on your ledger to get your attention. You cough, flipping her off with your pen still in-hand. Liz hums, pretending to think about it as you put down the last numbers. “Although I wouldn’t be too surprised. You do love a geriatric man.”

“Joel isn’t that old,” you scoff, arranging the bills into slim white envelopes and then licking them shut. “He’s just an… acquired taste.”

“Sure, his jizz probably tastes like prohibition-era booze–”

“What the fuck,” you wheeze, hands going out to brace yourself on the closest display case. Your head dips as your chest shakes with laughter.

Liz stays completely straight-faced as she continues, “You’ll have to have 911 on speed dial because if you clench, his heart’s giving out.”

“It is not,” you say, voice still strained with the laughs that won’t stop punching out of you.

She puts her hands up in defense and crosses her legs at the ankles. “Hey, it’s not my fault you like playing whac-a-mole with Great Depression dick.”

“Liz!” You playfully shove her off of the counter, thrusting the envelopes into her hands. “You’re nasty. Fucking nasty.”

She splays a wounded hand over her heart, fanning herself with the envelopes. “You know you love me.” She slips into the office behind the register. You hear the click of the safe before she calls over her shoulder, “Any particular reason you’re fantasizing on the clock?”

“Not fantasizing,” you refute. Liz pops out of the back with a uncertain look scrawled on her face. “My dad talked him into picking me up today so I don’t drive into a snowbank.”

“Sounds like the beginning of a shitty porno.”

“Don’t give me hope.”

“I’m just saying,” she grins. “You can still come to mine. Only a five minute walk with zero chance of rejection.”

“You have such little faith in me.”

She purses her lips. “Mkay…. Pro-tip: Keith probably has some Viagra sitting around in his desk drawers.”

“Liiiiiiiz,” you say. You’re about to tune her out completely when familiar headlights light up the wet asphalt, beaming through the windows. The engine idles, a soft rumble through the linoleum floors. The truck lights dim, leaving Joel in the buttery shine of the streetlamp. His thick arms stretch across the wheel, and he rakes one large hand through his hair. “Shit, speak of the Devil.” You clip off your nametag, tossing it into your half-open bag. “Can you finish closing tonight? I promise I’ll make it up to you.”

“No problem, no favors necessary.” She closes the register. You fumble to get your bag over your shoulder, not wanting to keep Joel waiting. “Use protection!” she calls after you, and you make sure to flip her off one more time as the door clangs shut behind you.

A wall of cold hits you like a blade of lightning. Wind unfurls, mauling telephone lines and frosted treetops, rippling your jacket. Not even the worn scarf around your neck seems to be doing its job. Suddenly, every one of your limbs feels like an icicle. Joints almost freezing up, you half-jog, half-penguin strut your way to Joel’s passenger side. You wipe the ice off of the door handle with your sleeve. A few stray flurries dust you as you tug the door open, exhaling in relief as you haul yourself onto the side steps and into the toasty warmth of the Ford F150.

You cozy up in the seat, too preoccupied by thawing your hands with long, winded breaths to notice the affronted look Joel is throwing your way. “Are you tryin’ to catch your fuckin’ death, girl?”

“No death to catch. It’s not that cold.” The way you’re shivering says otherwise. Joel pins you with the raise of his brow.

Before you know what he’s doing, he’s groaning as he reaches over the center console into the backseat. You see a flash of his trucker jacket before it lands in your lap, flannel-lined and heavy. You use it like a blanket, draping it across your torso and wrestling your hands into the inside pockets. The canvas smells like car exhaust and off-brand Dollar General deodorant, two things that are so inextricably Joel. As much as you hate to admit it, the warmth is already inking its way across your skin – or maybe it’s just being next to Joel that’s heating you up. “Thanks,” you grumble.

When you adjust in your seat, the inside of your foot catches an empty Dr. Pepper can on the floor. It rattles when you accidentally kick it forward. You lean down and pick it up, going to place it down in the cupholder, only to find it overpopulated with random Home Depot and Whataburger receipts.

“Tax deductions,” he shrugs. “Gotta eat on the job.”

“And a…” You pick up the receipt and squint at the faded typography. “$3.29 strawberry milkshake is part of that, I figure?”

Joel grunts, “Tommy’s order.”

You smirk. “Sure it is.”

“Quit shit stirrin’ and put on your fuckin’ seatbelt.”

You reach back, fingers snagging it and tugging it down. Groping for the belt between the seats and the center console, it goes on for at least five seconds too long before Joel grabs the buckle and shoves it into the slot. His fingers brush your thigh as he pulls away from you and settles his foot over the gas pedal. The singular touch shouldn’t make butterflies beat at the walls of your stomach, but it does. Everything about him does.

Now that you’re all settled in, everything about him is also settling in. The fact that he’s only wearing a tight-fitting white t-shirt now that his coat is off. His sleeves are constricting enough that his muscles bulge below the strip of fabric. Ample scruff dapples his jawline, and his hair is disheveled in the way that you’ve learned you like it. You trail your eyes down his body, his tummy, across the undone drawstrings of his dark gray sweatpants, and no, you move on quickly from there, because you refuse to get riled up in the passenger seat.

He’s slowly peeling out of Keith’s parking lot, arm thrown over the back of your seat. You’re starting to fail at your mission of not getting riled up when you see the flex of his bicep, the way his eyes meet yours as he turns to look through the back window. He turns out of the parking lot and onto the relatively barren, icy streets–

“What the hell are those?”

Joel side-eyes you, brows furrowed. He follows the line of your gaze to his feet, which you’re used to seeing in New Balances or steel-toed work boots, but are instead wearing… fur-lined crocs.

“These here? Yeah, got ‘em recently, good for my days off with all this nippy weather. Sarah told me they’re ‘all the rage’ with the youth–”

You can’t help it. You damn near double over with laughter, clutching at your stomach. Joel’s coat nearly slides off of you, but you hang onto it with your pinkie finger, quickly going dizzy from lack of air. “‘All the rage’? Oh my fucking God– Joel, she was pulling your leg. Those are fucking hideous.”

“Hey, now–” He sighs, pinching his nose bridge with the hand that isn’t dangling over the wheel. “Zip it, I don’t needa justify my shoe choices to ya.”

“Does she do anything other than give you shit these days?”

“You’re one to talk about givin’ shit, y’know,” Joel says. Unfailingly, he smiles. The smile that pulls at the edges of his lips. The smile that he only ever gets when talking about Sarah. It doesn’t matter where – loading up his plate with barbecue, your dad asking him while he’s picking up junk mail in the morning, or on the job. If someone asks him about his daughter, Joel fucking beams.

He sucks on his teeth for a second, and then, “She’s picked up soccer. Goalkeeper. Damn good at it, too, all them other kids on her team can’t match her collapse dive.”

“Of course they can’t,” you say. “She’s got better reflexes than a house fly.”

Joel hunches over the wheel, effectively ending the conversation as he concentrates on the road. The only noise is the rumbling engine and the wagging of the windshield wipers as he attempts to navigate the black ice polka-dotted roads. It shouldn’t be as arousing as it is, seeing him in such a state of focus, his thighs tensed as he manipulates the gas and brakes to stop early, start slow. His arms thickening when he makes a right turn. Thumbs drumming drumming drumming on the wheel and maybe they’d do the same between your legs—

“So how’s work?” you blurt out.

Joel mumbles something that you can’t quite make out.

“Huh?”

“Fuckin’ ‘big shot’ gringos up my ass all day. Goddamn shitshow.” He shakes his head, his lips thinned. “I tell ‘em terraforming is gonna make it look like a Flinstone-owned-and-operated putt-putt course. They say do it anyway. I tell ‘em that orderin’ custom windows is gonna put us months behind. They say do it anyway, then come up jibber-jabberin’ all ‘bout how long it’s takin’. And it’s fuckin’... window madness, not one window in that hellhole matches another. Ain’t had so much trouble buildin’ a house since Sarah had me build her one from Hobby Lobby when she was little. Their architect musta been doin’ lines.”

You think you’ve seen Sarah’s dollhouse before when visiting, just in passing when the guest bedroom door was left open a smidge. You remember stalling in the hallway to look at it, with a fleece of dust growing on the tediously placed shingles and the oakwood front door left open like it’d been waiting for someone to come home. But Sarah outgrew it, and although Joel would never admit it, you know he’s too sentimental to leave it on the curb.

“How bad can building a dollhouse from a kit be?”

“With a five year old yellin’ like a drill sergeant in your ear? Worse than you think. She even made me rig the damn thing with electric so she could have her pink chandelier.”

You pout at him, “Wah wah, I’ll bet you loved it.”

“Was a nuisance at the time. But, uh, she was fiddlin’ with some ‘a the dolls I’d gotten her. Don’t think she knew I was watchin’, had gone to put ‘er to bed ‘cause it was a school night. She was readin’ this book I always read to her. Something about… a stuffed bear with a missin’ button and a girl that was tryna to buy him. I don’t fuckin’ know–” “Corduroy?”

“Yeah, that. Anyway, she was reading, usin’ the same tone I always used with her, tucked her dolls in for the night, and switched off the lights. I don’t think I loved it until then.” There’s a glistening in his eyes at the memory.

You smirk, “Sentimental bastard–”

The truck slides. Or maybe it coasts, skimming across the thin film of black ice. Joel eases down on the brakes, hauling to a stop next to a Minivan with its warning lights on. It’s a long stretch, and you can’t even see all the way down the highway with how thick the snow is. No two snowflakes are the same, but you find it difficult to believe when you’re looking at what must be millions of them. They pirouette, landing on window panes, rooftops, and wind-agonized tree branches. Everything is blotted with white. Red warning lights glare on the ice back at you.

“Shiiit,” Joel says as he squints at the road ahead of him. He scratches at his scruff.

“Tell me you’re not going to drive through that shit.”

“I’m not,” he says.

“Then how the fuck are we getting home?”

“Chill it–” “That’s the last thing I need to do,” you huff.

“I’m takin’ the detour.”

With that, he jerks the wheel — a bit too recklessly considering the weather, in your opinion – and pulls off onto a slippery backroad. The snow seems to have clung to the trees more back here, a sort of incandescent saran wrap over the oaks. At a bend in the road, icicles hang from a yellow sign that says CURVE 30 MPH. Joel takes it at ten.

You’re not checking out his hands while he drives, no, of course not. You’re looking at the gazillion lights on his dashboard display. “You usually have that many lights on?”

“Ain’t your truck, ain’t your business.”

“I’m ridin’ in it, ain’t I?” you mock his accent.

Joel sighs heavily. “Drivin’ me up the fuckin’ wall.” His hands clench briefly around the wheel. “Auto repair shop’s been price gouging, I’m tryin’ to get Tommy to hook me up with his buddy in San Anton–”

“Won’t be able to drive to San Antonio if your bumper falls off halfway there.”

Joel’s voice is dry as bone. “Ha ha. You get off on bein’ a smartass?”

It’s three words – that’s all it is. Just a throwaway phrase that he probably doesn’t even realize he said. If it were anything more, you’d know. But Joel, saying those words in that order? Damn him, because it turns your blood effervescent. You stop yourself from rubbing your thighs together underneath his coat. You’re about to make another quip that’ll not only distract you, but also surely drive Joel up the wall, one of your favorite activities.

His truck putters from ten miles per hour to eight.

Eight to six.

Six to four.

“Motherfuckin’.... shit,” Joel says again, this time much more urgent as he wrests the wheel to the side. The truck skims over the frosted roads and onto the shoulder, rolls for two seconds, and then falls to a complete, utter stop. The windshield wipers pause while they’re still up. Heat no longer spits out of the dusty air vents.

It’s the loudest silence you’ve ever been in.

“...So do you get off on letting your truck break down or–”

Joel sighs in the way that dogs do. “Thin ice, missy.” He unbuckles his seatbelt and pulls out his phone. “I’ll give Tommy a call.” He stares at the screen for ten seconds. Taps it. Shakes it.

“No service?” you ask.

“No service.”

“Let me try mine,” you mumble, shifting in the car seat. Sure enough, zero bars. Even though you know it won’t work, you press your dad’s contact. It goes straight to voicemail. “Well, shit.”

“Shit,” Joel echoes.

It’s unspoken, but you both know the harsh reality of this harsh wintry night: no phone service, no operational truck, and… no heater.

“Hang tight,” Joel says, reaching over the center console and hijacking his coat from your lap. He wrestles his arms through the sleeves and zips it up. He shoves the door open against the hoarse wind that keeps the trees at a slant, hops out, then slams it shut hard enough for the vehicle to rock. From how hard the wind was blowing, stray flurries dust the truck’s interior.

You can’t really see what he’s doing – the snow’s too heavy, the hood popped wide open for him to investigate the truck’s viscera. You run your hands up and down your thighs, already feeling cold. Without the heater, it won’t be much longer before you turn to an icicle in the passenger seat. The hood bangs back down.

Joel climbs in from the backseat, slams the door as hard as humanly possible, and then scoots to the middle seat.

You crane your neck to see him as he shakes out his cold-reddened hands before puffing air into his cupped palms. “What’s wrong with it?” You ask.

He lets out a frigid breath. “Don’t fuckin’ know, snowin’ too damn hard to tell.”

“Ten bucks it was one of the lights on your dash,” you say.

Joel glares at you, still huffing into his hands. His fingertips are bright red to match his ruddy cheeks. Snow is sprinkled through his hair like soot, quickly melting to beads of water on his windblown curls.

“Got some… hand warmers up in that glovebox. Grab the whole pack.”

You lean forward, kneeing it open and rifling through all of his shit. Insurance papers, more receipts, Miller Contracting business cards, a folded pocket knife, lens wipes, and –

“When’s the last time these saw daylight?” you huff out a laugh as you hold up a battered box of condoms.

Turns out, snow isn’t the thing that makes Joel Miller redder than a tomato. It’s the fifteen year old, very expired condoms hiding in his glovebox.

He clears his throat and averts his eyes. “Jesus. Forgot those were in there.”

You shake the box around and pluck a condom out of it. Looking for the expiration date, you turn it over and over in your hand. “August 31st, 2004. Really that long since you got some, Miller?”

“Put ‘em back,” he grumbles. “Pain in my ass.”

You snicker, replacing the condom box with the box of hand warmers. They’re unopened, still sealed. You snatch Joel’s keys out of the ignition and swipe them across the tape. “Happy?” you toss them over your shoulder.

“No.” He tears open the pack and rubs his hands together around the warmer, sighing when it begins to heat.

“Dick,” you grumble.

More tearing. “Brat.” Another warmer lands in your lap.

“Oughta get comfortable. We’re gonna be here a while,” Joel says.

“And whose fault is that?” You ask as you weigh the warmer in your palms. The front seat already feels cramped, and you’re quick to unbuckle your seatbelt. Your legs and arms fold like pretzels as you climb into the backseat. The curse that leaves you when you hit your head on the roof has Joel rolling his eyes.

“Pipe down. First thing in the mornin’ I’ll make the walk out to that country club a mile out and use their phone. Just gotta ride out the night. You ain’t ever roughed it before?”

You fall on all fours on the backseat, finally pulling yourself upright next to him. “Never had a reason to. Like, what if I have to piss? What if I get hungry?”

Joel shrugs. “Tough.”

The cold is starting to settle into your bones. Even your tongue feels popsicle numb, and your fingers are stiff where they wrap around the warmer. It’s like you’ve been trapped in a snowglobe and shaken up by a handsy toddler with how the wind rattles the truck and the snow swishes outside. You suppress a shiver, leaning against the door. Condensation is already building on the windows. Absent-mindedly, you begin to trace a portrait of Joel in the moisture. Your fingertip squeaks against the glass. Your masterpiece wouldn’t be complete without his signature scowl, so you’re sure to paint a frown on his face and his forehead wrinkles on thick.

“Didn’t know you were an artist,” Joel comments from the opposite side of the back. “Looks nothin’ like me, by the way.”

You smirk, “But you knew it was you.”

Because there’s nothing better to do than burn time, you spend the next ten minutes filling up the window with whatever nonsense doodles come to mind — hearts, stars, trees, and of course, the only one that Joel seems to be fond of: Sarah, smiling and curly-haired.

Reality only settles in when you’re done with the ephemeral illustrations, their outlines starting to dissolve back to regular droplets that streak down the windows. You’re stuck, for God knows how long, on this shady backroad that the Zodiac Killer would’ve loved during his heyday. With your dad’s best friend that you’ve been harboring a dangerous crush on.

And it’d be impossible to forget that it’s freezing fucking balls.

“Joel?” you say into the dark truck.

“Hm?”

Always one to speak your mind, you say, “It’s freezing fucking balls.”

A sound that might be a laugh leaves him. “Here,” Joel says, unzipping his jacket. He tosses it over to you, and you snuggle back up with it, nose burrowing into one of the creases in the fabric. His coat smells like him – like cheap body wash, chewing gum, and gasoline.

You try putting your hands in the pockets, even going as far as to open up a new hand warmer for each one, but they’re full of loose change and, expectedly, more receipts. When you curl up against the corner between the door and the seat, the hard plastic bites into your oversensitive back. Sitting upright or cross-legged doesn’t work, and when you test drive sitting diagonally with your feet propped up on the console, Joel makes a disproving noise and swats gently at your shin. You prop your forehead up against the window, but it’s cold enough to give you a brain freeze.

“Jesus Christ,” Joel snorts. “Get over ‘ere, you wuss.” He hauls you over, big hand splayed over your waist, and drags you across the bench to his side. You yelp in surprise, but only for a second before you’re crushed against Joel’s side. “Can’t have ya gettin’ hypothermia,” he jests.

You don’t know where to put your hands, but eventually, you settle on cupping his neck. Touching Joel, hell, even just being near him, is like being by an open furnace. Or maybe the heat is just your stomach doing somersaults at being this close to Joel after years of frivolous pining. His nape emanates warmth, the kind that flows down your arms and wraps comfortingly around your chest.

Joel exhales, the tendrils of his breath curling from the frigidity. He grabs his coat from the side and flattens it over the both of you, a piss poor replacement for a blanket, but all you’ve got.

Still, cold seeps in through the cracks in the doors, spoiling whatever lukewarm air remains. It doesn’t help that Joel had hopped in and out of the truck to play eye spy under the hood. The truck struggles to hold onto heat properly, especially when it isn’t producing more of it.

Joel sort of… flickers against your back. You think nothing of it until it happens again, this time in short bursts, and then turns into full on shivering.

“Who’s the wuss now, old man?”

Joel tenses up behind you. “Funny,” he says. With your hands cushioned against his neck, you feel the grate of his voice in his throat. “This is the best you’re gonna get unless you wanna be butt ass naked to share heat.”

It should be a joke. But the way he says it… doesn’t sound like a joke.

You go still, lifeless, not even sure if you’re shaking anymore. Because now, the only thought in your head is being pressed against Joel, his soft cock hardening against you, his palms splayed and rubbing over your stomach to keep you warm. And if his cock needed to get somewhere warmer, too…. Your clit twitches at the thought.

You smother the initial shock in your voice with your usual solution: sass. “So what, we’re gonna fuckin’ huddle for warmth?”

As much as you enjoy the idea, you're already dripping — and that’s just from your body being pressed against his, breathing the same air as him, closer now than you’ve ever been before. With no panties in the way, it’s not a stretch to say you’d be dripping down his thighs. You’d hate to have that conversation.

“Would you rather freeze to death?” Joel asks. You look up at him from where you’re curled into his side and find no gleam in his eyes. This isn’t just some knee-slapper for him. Joel Miller is being completely, irreversibly serious.

“I’d rather something less like Naked and Afraid, Joel!”

“It works,” he says, nose flaring. “They do it in those fuckin’... action movies all ‘a the time.”

“I didn’t know Hollywood was writing survival manuals for pervs–”

“God, you’re a piece ‘a work, ya know that?” His eyes flick down to you, and maybe it’s just the fact that this road is damn near pitch black, but his pupils seem larger than before. “Listen, I ain’t tryna perv on ya. I also ain’t tryna send you back to your old man with four fingers missin’ from frostbite.”

There’s no way you’re actually seriously considering this. You’ve heard of cold temperatures impairing thinking, but not like this. Your dad’ll go chasing after Joel with a pitchfork and a shovel if he finds out the man who was supposed to get you home safe and sound was cuddling naked with you. Cuddling naked with you in the backseat, no less. You’re certain Joel won’t try anything – he’s not like that. No matter how flustered you get in his lap, he’d never take advantage of you. What you aren’t certain of is your ability to stop yourself from asking him t0 take advantage of you.

This is practical. It’s only supposed to be practical. He wouldn’t be suggesting something this drastic if you both weren’t shaking like a rattlesnake’s rattler.

“Fine,” you say, already unwinding your scarf from around your neck. Determined to keep some semblance of boundaries up, you add, “No peeping, Miller.”

Joel makes an exasperated sound as you once again scoot out from his coat and across the bench, working yourself out of your shoes, your cotton zip-up, and then the stiff Keith’s uniform – a blue polo and jeans. Joel’s eyes are respectfully trained on the truck’s floor mats, which you’re only just now noticing has a sun-bleached Lisa Frank sticker tacked onto it.

Down to your bra and panties, your heart rate picks up. Your fingers are so fucking cold that it’s hard to get your bra straps out of the way so you can unclasp the damned thing, and then it falls to the floor. Your nipples harden in the face of the cold. The only thing you keep is your scarf, which do you do your best to cover your tits with. Scooping up your discarded clothes and tossing them to the front seat, you let out a shaky breath.

Fuck it.

You shimmy out of your panties and get rid of them just as quickly. When you try telling Joel you’re decent, or rather indecent, nothing comes out. Instead, you have to clear your throat with a strained, “All good.”

“Alright,” Joel says, rustling around. You hear his crocs scrape against the mat, and then his shirt swishing over his head.

He doesn’t tell you to look away, but since it’s implied, you look out of the window. The snowy trees tremble in the wind, and you almost wince when you see a small sliver of his tanned skin reflected in the glass. His crocs clunk on the ground when he kicks them off, and you watch his criminally tight t-shirt go flying over the passenger seat. You casually grip the Jesus handle, hoping that Joel doesn’t notice your fist tightening around it when you hear him untying the drawstrings of his sweatpants. When his sweats and boxers follow the path of his shirt, breathing gets a lot harder than you remember it being.

Just an hour ago, you’d been certain that this would be nothing more than a ten minute drive. Maybe, if you were lucky, he’d call you a casual pet name that would fuel the wriggling of your hand between your thighs that night.

The tension in the air is thicker than molasses. Each breath you take is fragile.

“I’m ready when you are,” Joel says.

Since you’re already half-naked, and since chickening out is out of the question, you inch over to Joel’s side. The air tumbles out of your lungs in one fell swoop when your bicep meets his. With some fidgeting, you bring your legs up at an angle beneath you, wrapping around his side in a way that has you feeling a little bit like a koala. You talk yourself into keeping your eyes forward and then scrub your palms across your freezing arms.

Joel, more indifferent than you think anyone else in this situation could be, abruptly casts his coat back over the both of you.

And, fuck him, he’d been right. The engulfing canvas of his coat keeps warmth trapped where it can be passed easily between the two of you. Or maybe it’s just being confined and skin-to-skin with Joel that has you heating up.

The silence is cruel – it’s much harder to make conversation about work or dollhouses or whatever the hell else when you’re naked. Only the wind’s sibilance keeps you company.

You can get used to this, you think. Drift off into a somewhat sound sleep with your head on Joel’s shoulder and hope that you don’t drool all over him or moan his name in your sleep. More embarrassing things have happened to you.

But then, as if you’re the unluckiest person alive, the temperature drops even more, and suddenly, you’re shaking like a leaf all over again. Your teeth almost clack together as you try to stammer out to Joel, “C–cold, Jesus fucking… Christ that’s cold.”

Joel pouts down at you, but you don’t miss the way his lip quivers. “Should I call the wambulance?”

“Should I call the r–r–r–retirement home to pi…pick up a ru–runaway resident?” It sounded a lot better in your head than bouncing off of your frozen tongue, you have to admit.

“Drama queen,” Joel mutters into your ear. “Can’t do anythin’ more about it. Sorry–”

“Can I sit on your lap?” you blurt out so quickly that you don’t even have time to think about it. You grimace, partially covering your face with your hands. Shit.

Joel’s eyes widen. “Excuse me?”

You’re already half doomed. Why not go all the way? “Listen, it’s just fucking… fucking freezing, Joel. Holy shit.”

“That bad?” he chokes out.

“You’d be warmer than the seats,” you defend. “I’ll be careful, I promise. Best behavior.”

Joel seems to ponder it for a moment, brows stitched together while he looks down at you from where you’re furled up against his side. He gnaws on the inside of his cheek before giving you a slight nod. “Alright.” You nod in return, heart in your throat. “–But you better mean it when you say best behavior. Can’t have any ‘a this shit gettin’ back to your dad.”

Another nod. You hold your breath as you shinny your way onto Joel’s lap, mounting him from the front so his chest hits your back. In your attempt to get comfortable, you bracket your legs around his. His soft cock fits at the small of your back, and even though he’s as flaccid as can be, he’s big. Apparently your imagination isn’t too far off. Joel’s sharp intake of breath forms a pit in your stomach, and you know when you’re warming up for an entirely different reason than close proximity, you also know that you need to calm yourself down. Fast.

Think of something awful. Like that time that you had to dissect cow eyes in sophomore year biology. Think about mold. How many murderers you’ll walk by in your lifetime. Expired leftovers. Anything–

You adjust yourself in an attempt to get away from Joel’s cock. Instead, your hips move just so his cock slips between your thighs and bobs against your slit.

You whine.

Your body immediately locks up once you realize what you’ve done. Crawling out of the truck to die a hypothermia-induced death seems like a much kinder fate than facing Joel, but no matter how much you scream at yourself to reach out and unlock the door, your hands refuse to move. You hadn’t noticed how wet you’d gotten, and you have no idea how. It’s smeared across your thighs, and now pressed up against your back after Joel’s dick had dragged through it all.

Shit shit shit shit shit shit shit–

Chancing a look over your shoulder, you’re surprised to find the tips of Joel’s ears flushed, cheeks cherry ripe. His Adam’s apple bobs when you meet his eyes. Holy fuck.

You’ve flustered him.

For some reason, the thought makes your chest a lot lighter. You look away nonetheless, but this time, with a newfound gleam in your eye. There’s no such thing as a bad accident, right?

Maybe Liz was right about having to call 911, because when you ‘accidentally’ repeat the movement, Joel stops breathing all together. His cock, almost hard now, you’ve noticed, bumps against your clit. You almost swallow your tongue trying to keep your moan down.

“The fuck you think you’re doin’?” he asks, his gruff voice scratching at your ears.

“I didn’t mean to,” you lie straight through your teeth, a smug little grin spreading on your face. Something about his semi-hard cock between your bodies tells you he’s going to say no to your next suggestion. “Maybe you should put the coat between us, instea–”

“Are you outta your fuckin’ mind, girl?” Joel’s voice comes out raspy. He shakes his head, clears his throat. The vibrations rumble up your spine. “And take away the whole point of stayin’ warm? Now quit it. Ain’t that hard to sit still.”

You try your hand at listening – for all of two seconds.

You hike your hips up, fumbling with his coat as you slot his cock against your slit once more, pushing yourself forward. The coat slides right off of you, falling in a dark lump on the floor. Neither of you care — you’re both too heated for the lack of cover to make a damn difference. Joel hisses, a sound like water hitting an open flame. His hands fly down to your waist, anchoring you to his lap. A surprised noise squeaks out of you.

“What, you got rocks rattlin’ around in your brain?” Joel scowls. “You’re real impolite for a cocktease, sweetheart.”

Butterflies flap around in your stomach from his words. It’s enough to make your head tip against his chest so you can look up at him, lips shaped in a perfect pout. “I’m not,” you say.

“Not a cocktease, huh? Not even when you’re rubbin’ all over my lap?”

You gasp as your hands fly down to cover Joel’s, nails etching into where his fingers meet your bare skin. You tug at his wrist, trying desperately to guide him where you so desperately need him.

“Not happenin’,” Joel grunts, yanking your hands behind you and pinning them to your waist like you’re nothing more than a poseable doll. His large, work-worn hands make yours look damn near miniature as he holds you down. The sudden roughness douses your inner thighs with a new wave of wetness. “Jesus, girl. Poor thing, gettin’ all hot and bothered. Don’t blame ya for tryna get me to help out. Can feel ya dripping down my legs, gushin’ like a sprinkler.”

“S–sorry, fuck, ‘m sorry,” you whisper, words sticky with your arousal. Your clit twitches from his words, embarrassment and need doing all the work to keep you warm.

“Nahhh,” he says. “I don’t think you are, baby.” Maybe it’s the condescension he’s purring in your ear, maybe it’s the pet name; most likely, it’s a combination of both that has you convulsing in his lap. It’s like he’s found all of the right buttons to press to get you riled up, getting you back for all of your snide comments earlier.

His fingers find the fabric of your scarf, luring it off of your neck so he can cord it around your wrists. You squirm when you realize what he’s doing, and a breathless huff of his laughter brushes your cheek. “I’ll be damned if you ain’t gonna be, though.” He draws it tight, tight enough for you to feel your pulses bumping into each other. Joel leaves a fair amount of your unreasonably long scarf loose.

“Joel, what the fuck are you up to?”

“Teachin’ you some sweet southern belle etiquette, darlin’. Such a goddamn troublemaker, grindin’ on me like I’m some kinda… frat boy.” He shakes his head, disbelieving. “Pullin’ that shit with your pops’ friend. Real fuckin’ classy.”

“Like you’re so different. Who’s the one that’s tying me up? Huh, Mil–”

You hear the hit well before you feel it, a firm whack to your cunt that makes your vision blacken and electricity scurrying up your spine. It takes you a second to come back to yourself before a ragged cry pulls its way out of your lips. You jolt in his lap, bound arms bobbing in front of you as your body instinctively lurches for control. You damn near kick your feet, accidentally ricocheting yourself into Joel’s chest. His forearms hold you there.

“Guess I’ll make it crystal clear for ya, baby, since that dumb lil’ head ‘a yours is havin’ some trouble. My truck, my rules. You’re ridin’ in it, ain’t you?” You nod reluctantly as he turns your words from earlier in his favor. “That was a warnin’, you showoff. Think you can bat your slutty ‘fuck me’ eyes an’ get away with murder.” He fucking tsks at you.

He pulls his hand away from your pussy, and you’re both surprised and not surprised at all to see it covered in your arousal, webbed between his calloused fingers.

“Got a whole goddamn slip ‘n slide down here…” murmurs Joel. You whine, bucking your hips against him. “Oughta just…” he starts, nudging his cock towards your hole. The noise you make is pathetic. “Stop ya from ruinin’ my seats. Cork you right up.” You tense up, fully expecting the intrusion, but his dick passes your cunt right up, instead sliding up to meet your clit. It taps against your swollen nub, and if his goal was to stop you from ruining his seats, you’re certain he’s already failed with how quickly you gush all over the upholstery.

“But that’d be real nice, wouldn’t it? Givin’ ya what ya want so early on…” Instead of pulling away like you expect, Joel griiiinds the head of his cock against your clit. You moan helplessly, head falling back across his shoulder.

And then he does it again.

And again.

And agai–

“Joooooel,” you whine, knees jerking each time his tip meets your most sensitive spot. Heat spins in your stomach.

He backs his hips up “What? Thought you loved this with how much you were gettin’ at it earlier.”

You shake your head rapidly in the negative, chest rising and falling at a breakneck pace while he teases you.

“So you can deal, but you can’t play?”

“I think you’re just taking your sweet old time getting it up, old man,” you grit out, knowing damn well he’s stiffer than titanium behind you.

Joel hums. “Ah, she’s got jokes.” His cock slips back, quickly replaced by his hand engulfing your mound. Your clit twitches ever so slightly against his palm lines, and you’re almost convinced you could get off from that alone. His palm cracks against your cunt again, somehow even harder than the first time. You cry out, eyes burning from arousal and the slightest edge of pain.

With his thumbpad, he taps your clit like he’s just scrolling through the cable guide with a remote. Fleeting movements that have you wanting more more more. It heals the sting of his slap even if the echo of the hit still simmers in your stomach. Your cunt throbs so hard that it hurts, jumping up to meet Joel’s scarce ministrations.

When he retracts his hand, your hips chase the movement. “See this?” he taunts, fluttering his wet fingers in front of your face. You make a choked noise when his drenched middle finger breaches your lips. He doesn’t even need to tell you; you latch on and suck yourself off of his calloused skin. You’re mostly salty, but a little sweet, and tasting yourself on your own tongue by his insistence manages to make you even wetter.

Joel takes his spare fingers, just as soaked, and smears them all around your chin and lower cheeks. He presses down on your tongue as he does. You gag from the pressure, and you can’t hear his laugh over the roaring of your blood in your ears, but you feel it rattle his chest where it meets your spine. Your slick cools quickly against your burning skin, syrupy as it clings to your face. “Need a bib, baby?”

He pulls his finger from your mouth with a pop and your scarf-wrapped hands spring to wipe yourself from your lips, hoping to save yourself from the humiliation of having your own pussy juice anointing your face. You only scoop up a little before Joel lowers his forearm over yours, but for once, you’re faster than him. You swipe your wet hand over his mouth, smudging as much as you can along the scruff surrounding his mouth.

He wraps a burly hand in the scarf and yanks your hands back into place. All you can do in response is giggle, but the breath is swiftly knocked out of you when he drives his cock right into your clit. “Think you’re funny, don’t ya?” He asks, and finally grunts as he rolls his hip into you. A break in his resolve, a sign that he wants this, or at least the discipline of this, as badly as you do.

You almost weep from the pressure, that rope of pleasure in your stomach that he keeps knotting tighter and tighter and tighter with each stroke of his cock, his fingers. “Joel!” you cry out as he follows it up with another firm swat to your clit. His cock spreads your folds as he softens the bashing, nuzzling his tip against your spasming cunt.

“Really, oughta give standup a go one ‘a these days. Be a real hotshot.”

“Oh yeah?” you pant, light headed and woozy.

“Mhm. If the whole crowd’s drunk.” His cock nudges your nub with a new vigor.

“Assh–”

Right as you’re about to press down and follow the sensation, Joel senses it. His cock gives way through your cheeks, just in time for him to land a ruthless slap across your pussy. It’s harder than the others – makes your ears ring for a second, gives you a sort of visual snow that has you doubling over and gripping at the closest object for purchase, which just so happens to be the metal rods coming out of the headrest.

“Ain’t what you should be sayin’ if you’re plannin’ on gettin’ what you want, sugar,” Joel tuts. He shakes his head at you. “Don’t wanna hear no lip from ya, girl.”

You open your mouth, argument on the tip of your drool-loaded tongue, but your halfhearted attempt at defiance doesn’t last long. Joel’s hand clamps around your chin, denting your skin into your teeth. He jerks your head to face him, knocking you down a peg with scathing eye contact. “You’re pushin’ it.” He loosens his grip.

“As if, Miller. If those pre-Cold War condoms are anything to go by, you’ve been dying for a chance to get your dick wet. Doesn’t matter how much lip I give you, you aren’t gonna blue ball yourself for much longer.” Satisfied, you raise your brows at him.

Turns out, he is going to blue ball himself for much longer, because he lands six slaps in rapid succession across your sopping cunt. The skin smarts, and you cry out. Your grip tightens around the headrest rod to the point of strangling it. Your eyes water, and you can’t tell if you’re crying. Too consumed by Joel, everything has melted into him – the smell of sawdust perpetually sewn into his skin, his cock sealed against your body.

“How many times are ya gonna poke the bear before you learn your lesson, you cheeky little shit?” Joel’s palm cups the inside of your right thigh, just above the knee. He traces circles with his thumb, and heat trails after him with everywhere he touches. “See, the thing about havin’ ‘pre-Cold War condoms’ is that I’ve had a helluva lot more time to learn self control than you. Can wait as loooooong as it takes for you to get your head on right. Don’t matter if you’re waterfallin’ down my seats or not, pretty girl. I’m giving you exactly what ya deserve.”

You whimper, trying (and failing) to get your magma hot core closer to Joel’s unfairly large hand, still splayed out on your inner thigh. You can’t stop how you squirm in his lap, smearing your arousal everywhere with each movement you make.

At a snail’s pace, his hand begins to inch up your leg. Joel pauses to grope at you as his hand travels upward. Handfuls of your skin, rubbing at your scalding hot thighs. Your patience is wearing thin by the time he gets midway there. You need him to touch you. And that’s just the tip of this impossibly destructive iceberg.

You shouldn’t be doing this, shouldn’t have let him go down this shitty backroad, shouldn’t have agreed to your dad’s ridiculous idea of Joel picking you up, shouldn’t have asked to be naked on his lap, shouldn’t have gotten naked on his lap, shouldn’t be leaking like a twenty-year-old pipe in a building he’d been hired to renovate. If your dad ever finds out–

“Joel, please, please – plea…” you trail off, dissolving into incoherent whimpers as his hand hovers over your cunt. You’re running hotter than a radiator now, and if you both wanted to be warm, then you’ve got your wish. Although mostly gibberish, Joel has to understand what you want from him. It’s just that the bastard is unwilling to provide.

Joel reaches down to pinch your clit, and your body can’t even discern from pleasure and pain anymore. You react the same to it all, back arching as you try desperately to plant yourself on his cock. “Shhh, shhh, quit runnin’ your filthy mouth. Only gonna get yourself into more trouble.”

You swear you hear angels singing, swear you see the pearly gates when he gives your clit a merciful rub. Melting into him, you exhale shakily.

“See? All nice ‘n quiet when she’s gettin’ what she wants.” You wouldn’t even dream of mouthing off to him now.

“I want – I need…” you gasp out, putty in his hands. Moldable to his liking. Everything you’d pretended not to want.

“Go on,” he coos. “Tell daddy what you need.”

You don’t even hear him say that word. You’re too hooked on begging, begging, begging. “Please – Joel, oh god, please – I need… I need… please please please, fuck, it hurts–”

Joel clicks his tongue. “Nuh uh. Start over. Always such a chatterbox ‘cept for when I need ya to be.”

“Wha…?” you ask, admittedly dazed from the harsh treatment that you’ve come to crave more of.

“Tell daddy what you need,” he repeats, words molasses slow.

You clench, gushing even more all over him. Shit, your next paycheck might have to go to replacing the goddamn seats if you keep up like this.

“D–D… D-” you start stammering out, but you’ve lost autonomy over your body long ago, and apparently that goes for your tongue, too. “Da– Da… pl–”

“Any day now,” he scoffs.

“Daddy!” you spit out all at once. “Please, please, daddy, fuck – fuck me, daddy, please, I want your cock, daddy. Feels so fucking big. Need it daddy, it hurts… please, ngh– daddy!” Tears are burning the corners of your eyes, fueled almost entirely by arousal and partially by frustration. You squirm, cunt crying all over the place.

“M’kay, baby,” he says. Running a hand down your chest and squeezing your nipple on the way down. He slides his hand down your stomach to cup your mound, giving your clit slow, gentle circles. Your hips jump forward, and this time, he doesn’t stop you. “Daddy’s got ya.”

At the first intrusion of his middle finger in your cunt, you jump. It’s a lot compared to what he’s been giving you, but nowhere near enough. A second finger slips inside. He doesn’t have to do much work to stretch you out — you’ve been seeping out of you since you first got on his lap. He’s all too quick thrusting them in and out of you – the messy squelch of your pussy filling the backseat has you burying your chin against your chest, averting your eyes. The heel of his palm bumps persistently at your clit with each shift of his fingers inside of you.

“I know you ain’t a virgin, but you’re soakin’ like one. Too damn cocksure to ain’t have had a cock in ya before. Prancin’ around like a glorified dick trap.” You inhale sharply when his fingers scrape that spongy spot inside of you that you can never reach yourself. A moan rips out of you. The combination of him talking down to you and rubbing your g-spot has you dangerously close to cumming. Your moan is quickly swallowed up by more of Joel’s condescension.

He starts mumbling to himself then, obscenities that make you clench even tighter around his fingers. “Gonna get you all sore baby, make you regret beggin’ for this dick like a horny ‘lil bitch that ain’t ever been laid in her life. Fuck you so hard you’ll be cryin’ for daddy’s cock up your ass instead, turn you into an anal slut, too.” He’s too busy listening to himself talk, too absorbed in his own world to feel you balancing on that razor-thin edge.

The noise you make is inhuman. You pulse around him, doing your best to stave off your impending release. “Daddy–” you warn, but he cuts you off then, too. Joel grinds his cock between your ass cheeks, his precum dripping down your slit to meet your trembling cunt.

“Ever been fucked here before baby?” He swipes his tip along your asshole, and the way you shudder is answer enough for him. “Don’t get all jumpy, sweetheart. Ain’t gonna fuck ya there right now. Be cruisin’ for a bruisin’.” Still, he replaces his tip with his free hand’s thumb, simply rubbing at the ring of muscle. You fidget in his lap without an end-goal. You just want to be close to him, want to take everything he’s willing to give you. His fingers hook just right inside of you. “Would love to be the first to unlock this pretty backdoor. If this tight ‘lil pussy’s anything to go by… Christ. You’d look so pretty squirmin with my cock in your ass, baby–”

“Daddy!” You scream as your orgasm guts you. His fingers and his voice rip your climax right out of you and your cum streams down your inner thighs and Joel’s hand, still smacking against your clit with each thrust. Your cunt spasms around his flexing fingers. He has to fold an arm over your chest to keep you from sliding off his slippery lap entirely.

All the way through the aftershocks that make your limbs quake, Joel holds you upright against his body, still bumping his palm and fingertips against your clit and g-spot. You swear you can feel him smiling against your shoulder.

“Didn’t tell ya you could cum, darlin’,” Joel murmurs, flicking his cum covered finger across your clit. You wince in overstimulation, a whine catching in your throat.

“‘M sorry, daddy,” you pant. His hands go up to

“‘S okay, babygirl. Pretty pussy couldn’t help it when I was talkin’ ‘bout fuckin’ your ass, huh?” His hands rove up your stomach to play with your tits, palming and stroking, getting his hands all over every carnal part of you.

You hum into his bicep, “Mmmm.”

“That’s alright. Don’t mean you’re gettin’ away with a slap on the wrist though. C’mon, up,” he guides with a small slap to your thigh. You adjust, bringing yourself onto your knees so he can enter you from behind. You look down at his sturdy thighs, flexing as he adjusts himself between your legs. He gives you one more teasing thrust through your thighs, poking your oversensitive clit one more time before reaching down to spread your folds.

You moan as he presses against your entrance, and it’s not the best time to have a come to Jesus moment, but – Joel’s size was in no way over exaggerated between your legs. You stiffen in realization, and Joel, attentive as always, notices. He guides your chin to face him and nuzzles his nose up against yours, mouth tracing down to your lips. Your breath mingles, stagnant in the long-forgotten chill. A cushion of softness against all of his spiky edges that showed up tonight. “You’re on top, baby. Take it as slow or as fast as ya want.”

Nodding at the reminder, you find yourself that you don’t want to take it slow. You want to be as sore as he’d promised, want to feel him for days and be reminded of this every time you look at the winter morning’s frost on the shingles outside.

Sinking down over his throbbing length yanks the air out of your lungs as you seat yourself with him bottoming out and going balls deep in your cunt simultaneously. He grunts against you in surprise, softening the blow of your heady moan. “Attagirl,” he huffs into the crease between your neck and shoulder. It’s a stretch, searing up your thighs and to your lower back. You’re brought back to yourself when Joel rolls his hips into you, making the pain liquefy into mind-numbing pleasure. You spend thirty seconds waiting for him to fuck up into you in a way that changes your philosophy around the world, but instead, he’s still and solid inside of you.

“Go on,” Joel coaxes, placing a steady hand just shy of your mound. “Gotta prove you deserve to cum again.” He taps your thigh as if he’s telling you to giddy up, and the shame warms the back of your neck better than any heater ever could.

You whimper. His hands coast up your thighs, squeezing your hips tight before falling to grip the seats below. You’re still weak from your last orgasm, shaky legs struggling to hold yourself up as it is. “Daddy… I can’t…”

“Ain’t no different than fuckin’ y’self on that vibrator or dildo or whatever the fuck’s in your nightstand. Girl like you, gotta have a wimpy ‘lil fucktoy somewhere.” His words make you clench around him, and he groans into your neck. Joel looks up at the front window, now covered in snowflakes. He smirks when he spots the rearview mirror. “Oughta make you watch yourself. Show a pathetic, cockstarved slut what happens when she bites off more than she can chew.” At that, you mewl, grinding yourself down. The chuckle he lets out is lined with cruelty.

Joel pins you to his chest with one burly arm and leans forward with a hash of grunts from effort. He reaches out towards the rearview mirror, lowering it to face the middle seat that you’re both braced on. He sinks back quickly, and it almost gives you whiplash before you make eye contact with yourself. You can see everything. Tremors travel up your legs and into your arms. Your body is getting freezer burn from how cold and hot you are at the same time. Pleasured tears threaten to spill over your waterline. Joel’s smug fucking face as he murmurs endlessly at you.

Your mouth is parted as you take yourself in, truly a pathetic, pretty little picture as you pant. “C’mon,” Joel coaxes, squeezing your ass. “You can do it. Make daddy proud. I’ll even give you a boost.” Joel reaches to your tied hands and quickly undoes the scarf, letting it drop to the floor. You flex your fingers and then reach out for the chairs ahead to get a good grip.

You prop yourself up on your knees, anchoring yourself to the two chairs in front of you. Using a combination of your upper and lower body strength, you rise halfway off of Joel’s cock before your body gives out. His balls slap wetly against your clit. He laughs, still not touching you at all. Your head flops forward as you look down to where the two of you meet, and then at the mirror where his cock is buried deep inside of you. You whine in dismay.

He wasn’t lying when he said he was going to get you sore. You can only moan. It’s pleasure like you’ve never had it before – too much, not enough, painful, so good. “Please, Joel – I can’t… can’t handle it.”

“I’ll decide what you can handle,” he says.

“You’re– you’re so fucking mean,” you rasp.

“Gets you this soaked, baby. Don’t see your pussy complainin’. You love bein’ treated like a piece ‘a meat. Like a little fleshlight for men to fuck.”

You clench, tight. “Ah!” Joel fucking sniggers behind you, but a rush of confidence spills through you at the underlying moan in his throat.

Determined to get what you want, you tighten your grip on the front seats. Haul yourself up, almost so that the tip slips right out, and then collapse back onto Joel’s cock. And, shit, it’s a lot. You doubt you could handle his cock in missionary, but being made to ride him in such a compromising position, sprawled out across his shitty backseat? That’s an entirely different animal, one that you hadn’t expected to have to handle.

You focus on doing just enough to please him and just enough to keep yourself intact. You repeat your movements two or three times, rising and falling. Little moans and whimpers, some pained, some good when he nudges your g-spot just right, slip in and out of you.

“Mmmm, yeah, that’s it. Daddy’s ‘lil wannabe pocket pussy. Doin’ a ‘lil better baby. Keep doin’ that. Jus’ keep doin’ that.”

You’re shaking like a leaf on his cock as you somehow manage to lift yourself another time before fucking back on him. “Daaaddy.” Your lips quiver as you form the word. A single tear runs down your face from overexertion, and he’s quick to wipe it up with his thumb as if it was never there. You look truly whorish and pathetic, just like he’d wanted, bouncing on his cock with the last of the energy you have left in you.

His tip jabs against that goddamn spot again, and you double over on the center console. You take heaving breaths, making eye contact with yourself in the mirror, desperate to please as you attempt to keep humping him with the change in angle. You’re letting out strings of disoriented words, but barely can tell that you’re talking.

“I fuck you dumb already? Slutty little girl. Told ya you were in for it. Ain’t ever had much of a knack for listenin’. Gonna dick you down now, sweet girl.” He drags your legs into the crook of his elbows, holding you upright for him as he shifts to his knees between your legs. Braced on the center console with your pussy settled on his cock, the new angle makes you cry out. You hold yourself up on your elbows, giving shallow rolls of your hips in return as Joel gets settled inside of you.

The first thrust makes your eyes roll back so far that you see black. “Feel good?”

“So… so fu–fucking goo… good daddy,” you whimper into the console, gripping the sides of it just so you have something to hold onto.

“Swallowin’ daddy’s dick whole in this greedy cunt. Goddamn, drippin’ down my fuckin’ balls. Such a masochistic slut, all after a poundin’ from an old man. All up in a tizzy for this cock.”

You moan your agreement, completely submissive to Joel’s wills. You move like a ragdoll for him, letting him yank you back on his cock while he meets you there, thrust for thrust. He pulls out, a small mercy, but when he sheathes himself back inside of you in full, it’s the beginning of a punishing pace.

You don’t even notice yourself drooling all over the console until Joel says something about it. “Droolin’ from two places. Yeah, baby, you needed this. Daddy’s pretty cockslut.” You whine especially loudly when Joel drags you back across the console, damn near fast enough to give your stomach rugburn.

Hands framing your spread legs, Joel hooks them both around his torso, using the leverage to plow into you. You’re boneless beneath him, mouth frozen in silent moans. His hips meet your ass with each shove of his cock in your sloppy cunt, the obscene sound of slap after slap pealing out within the truck. “Damn lucky we’re in the middle of nowhere,” Joel growls on another thrust. “Someone woulda been knockin’ on the window long time ago with how loud you’re bein’.”

“Mmph,” you gasp when Joel tosses one of your legs up and over the passenger seat. You hold yourself there as he digs his fingers into your other thigh, shifting his spare hand to your mound.

“Daddy please please please plea–” you start panting like a broken record, desperate to feel his hand on your clit, which throbs with inattention on the console. You grind frantically on the edge just in case he denies you again.

Joel laughs above you, fully smudging two fingers across your clit in a blur of indescribable pleasure. “Ain’t gonna make ya beg this time. Can’t wait to feel ya creamin’ ‘round me… maybe I’ll make ya lick that up too. Nasty bitch.”

“Joooel, oh fuck, please…” you whine as he continues railing you, this time fiercely tweaking your clit in-time with his movements.

The new position has his thrusts meeting your cervix, and you scream, pleasure corkscrewing through your body. There’s nowhere for all of it to go with how viciously it burns in your stomach – all you can do is take it and whine for him. “Takin’ it real good. See what happens when ya behave? You get this fat cock splittin’ your whore cunt in two, jus’ like you were askin’ for.”

He grips your hip tight, clearly expecting an answer. You slur, “Mhm, daddy!”

Joel rubs faster circles around your clit, spouting filth while he drills your pussy. You can tell he’s chasing his own release, too, hips frantically fucking in and out of you, his cock twitching every single time you clench. You’re burning up as he jackhammers your pussy. Your second orgasm of the night brims low in your stomach, “Come on, baby, know you’re close. Feel this slutty pussy squeezin’ me. You gonna ask permission like a good girl this time, or are ya gonna go back to your defiant little slut self?”

“No, daddy,” you whimper, suspended in thin air over orgasmic bliss. He’s rubbing your clit erratically, doing everything he can to hold you in place. “P-please daddy, can I come?” You practically scream it out.

“Go ahead,” he says. “Come for daddy’s, come allll over daddy’s cock.”

The band snaps. Your back arches, and you feel time stop in the second before you fall slack on the console, spasming from the best orgasm of your fucking life. Your clit feels like there’s fucking pop rocks on it, something that not even your vibrator has ever achieved. “Thank you daddy!” you cry out, repeating it as you lose all feeling in your bones. You hardly have any control over your body anymore – it’s just Joel Joel Joel Joel. Sated and weary, you just lay there, letting Joel fuck into you.

And fuck into you he does – roughly, helping you ride out your orgasm as he pursues his. “That’s my girl,” he says, and you swear that alone could make you cum all over again. “Lettin’ your daddy use this juicy, well-fucked cunt to get his own.” He can’t hold back his moans, that’s how you know he’s close, grunting and gasping as he rocks his hips into yours. His hand lands on your ass in a sharp smack, and your pussy clenches in exactly the way that he expected. He lets out a particularly ragged noise, folding himself over you to nip at your neck and rest his forehead against your shoulder blade. “Daddy’s close, where do ya want me, baby?”

“Tits,” you whine. It’s a miracle you can even get that one word out, but somehow, you manage a few more. “Come on my tits, daddy.”

“Fuck!” Joel shouts, yanking himself over you. You help him roll yourself over and sit up on your elbows, and he jerks himself once, twice, before spraying his load all over your tits with the loudest groan yet. His brows fold together as he cums, eyes drooping and his mouth parted as he takes deep breaths.

You sit there for a handful of heavy minutes, listening to each other’s jagged breathing and the sawtoothed wind outside. You’re both so fucked. Literally, and figuratively. Stuck in the buttfuck middle of nowhere, you with your dad’s proclaimed bestie’s cum drying on your tits, and said bestie staring at you with post-coital puppy dog eyes and your cum all over his balls.

You’re the first to speak up, still winded. “That was… that was good.”

Joel nods mindlessly, tongue swiping out to lick his lips. He beckons you closer, and on trembling legs, you bring yourself to the backseat. You return to your previous position, huddled up and curled next to the door. Joel fumbles around under the back bench for a little until he comes up with a small, sunbleached pack of princess-themed pocket tissues that have to be as old as Sarah is. He dabs at your chest before stuffing them into the closest empty cupholder, and then brings you closer to his chest.

You don’t notice yourself falling asleep when all you can feel is Joel.

There’s better ways to wake up than a furious rapping on the window, but that isn’t the first thing you notice. You blink your eyes open groggily, only to face an egg yolk sun cracking wide open over the treeline and snowmelt bleeding out from every given surface. Joel’s behind you, nose in your neck, snoring softly with his arms wrapped around your middle. You take a moment to admire him – his sun kissed skin and his peaceful expression. It takes you a moment to remember you slept with him. You slept with Joel, and it was the best fuck of your life.

You’re stretching, on the verge of a yawn, when you see the familiar head of black hair over the window. “Shit!” you shout. Joel jerks to life behind you, mumbling something that sounds a lot like ‘what?’.

You scramble to pull the coat over the both of you from where it fell off of you in the middle of the night, covering your naked bodies. “Get dressed!” you hiss to Joel, searching for wherever the fuck your panties ended up last night.

“What the hell’s gotten into ya–” he starts, and you feel the exact moment that he realizes Tommy Miller is outside of the truck. “Motherfucker,” he curses, swaying towards the front seat to snag his clothes. You see him almost put his head through his T-shirt armhole three times before he gets it right. His sweatpants are next, which he tugs up his bare legs without even searching for his boxers.

“Joel?” Tommy shouts outside. “Wake up, sleepin’ beauty!” He knocks on the door again, the windows blurry from melting snow. You have that to thank, at least. It buys you enough time to tug your polo over your head, but not enough time to button it all the way up.

“Fuckin’... dumbass,” Joel huffs as he clips the lock on the door and kicks it open, looking at least somewhat composed. You take deep breaths, looking between the two of them. “How’d you find us?”

Tommy looks Joel up and down, scrutinizing him. “What happened to southern gentleman manners? I came out here to save ya from Mt. Everest, brother! Least you could say is ‘thank you’.”

“Thank you,” you fill in for Joel, even if the last thing you’re feeling is grateful.

“Her daddy threw a hissy fit, y’know? Told him you were fine and we’d go lookin’ for ya in the mornin’. We saw all that backup on the highway, I went this way, he went that way, turns out my gut was right. ‘Course my dumbass brother would take this route… hey, you’re truck’s a fuckin’ mess.” Tommy sinks his hand into the closest cupholder, pulling out a wad of tissues that have been soaked in his cum. You hiss as if you’ve been scalded with boiling hot water.

Joel starts, “Tommy–”

“What the fuck is this shit?” The realization seems to dawn on poor Tommy when he’s peeling apart the tissues, and he drops them like they’re a thousand pounds. You can’t even bring yourself to scold him for littering as the wind carries them away. “Joel. You dirty dog!” He says, eyes flitting between the two of you like it’s the most impossible thing in the world.

Your heart picks up to a speed that can rival most NASCAR drivers and your face burns like hot asphalt. You look pointedly down at the ground.

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ,” Joel seethes, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Get outta here, you little shit.”

Tommy’s hands go up. “Hey now, I ain’t doin’ anything. That is not a conversation I wanna have with her daddy.” He clears his throat, effectively clearing the air along with it. “So, uh, truck break down?” Joel grunts in affirmation.

“Been tellin’ ya you need to make a stop at the auto shop… C’mon, I’ll get y'all home,” Tommy says, jingling the keys to his own truck. “Call a tow on the way.”

Joel drags his feet all the way to Tommy’s passenger side. You get your wallet and jacket together, winding the latter around your waist. The sun almost blinds you on your way out, and Tommy stops you.

“I hope you didn’t let ‘im stick it to ya with them prehistoric condoms. You’re smarter ‘n that.”

“God, no,” you huff out.

“I dunno what’s stupider, lettin’ my asshole brother hit it raw or gettin’ a UTI–”

“Okay!” you announce, hands going up as you round the back of Tommy’s truck. “Conversation over.” You’re still smiling playfully at Tommy as you clamber into the back of the truck, sighing when the air conditioner hits.

Just like that, back to the same old same old sunny, shithole state of Texas. Joel looks at you in the rearview mirror and winks at you. You guess not everything has to stay the same these days.

#vetty's words 𓇢𓆸 #joel miller smut #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfic #joel miller fic #joel miller/reader #joel miller/f! reader

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rafesbabygirlx · 2 months ago

Text

A Lot of Time has Passed |Part 1

Series Masterlist | Masterlist

Season 4 Rafe x Maybank reader

Summary: Beginning at the time jump, the Pogues seemingly succeeded at something, Rafe is struggling with making amends and being a better person. JJs sister left the island after returning from South America. Returning after 18 months with a secret.

A/N: Writing this with inspiration from season 4 part 1. Rewriting plot lines. No mention of Y/N but is written in her perspective. Was inspired of Rafe’s new character arc which I love but thought I’d make it a bit more interesting and messy.

Also- you have to imagine that Maybank reader is intertwined in the previous seasons. And was involved with Rafe. She understands him more than Sofia. She is JJs half sister, takes after her mom, brunette brown eyes tanned skin.

Not really proofread

Word count: 2.5k

Warnings: smut (fingering) tough discussions, loss of life (Ward, Big John) Rafe can get a little mean, sorry Sofia lovers.

It’s been 18 months since you returned to the island. While you’ve stayed in touch with your half-brother JJ and the rest of the Pogues, you only saw them once in a while since you had made them travel to the mainland. You relished the escape from the chaos of the Outer Banks. Although you maintained a connection with your mother, it wasn’t until you decided to move in with her that you saw her again. You never imagined you’d come back, but hearing about the Pogues’ long-overdue success and newfound wealth drew you back to celebrate.

Once you arrived, you made an effort to keep a low profile. You headed straight to the old house you and JJ used to share. You couldn’t help but feel annoyed at how much he paid for it, but the joy of being back with your little brother overshadowed that irritation. Everything felt just as it had in the past, and you slipped seamlessly into your role as their ‘older sister.’

You found yourself speaking with Sarah down by the docks, where she asked how you were doing and how things were going—just the usual small talk. Then came the question you dreaded: “Have you seen him?” You stared out at the water, trying to push thoughts of him aside while enjoying your time with the Pogues. Subconsciously, you gripped your gold necklace by its 2 charms, one a ‘V’ initial and the other a baby rattle as you replied, “No, I haven’t, and I’m hoping to keep it that way.”

You hadn’t planned to stay long, just a week or two at most, with hopes of hanging out in the Cut, grabbing some groceries, and indulging in shopping at boutiques you never go to do before. You wanted to avoid anything that might draw attention to you. Living with your mom—who was now clean and remarried—had been a breath of fresh air. She shielded you from worry, allowing you to focus on taking care of what you needed to and building a decent savings while working a stable job, free from the burdens your father had imposed.

After chatting a bit more, you hugged Sarah and rejoined the group. They were deep in conversation about a bike race happening the next day. Glancing at JJ's bike in the yard, you felt a mix of confusion and admiration for his confidence. Although you hadn’t planned to join them for obvious reasons, he managed to convince you to come along. With such a big crowd, you thought you could easily blend in and suppress the anxious flutter in your chest at the thought of running into Rafe. Confident, yet now he’s all you can think about.

————————————

The last time you saw him was when you returned home from South America. While you were glad to see him, you dreaded the conversation about his father. After leaving the group at the airport, you headed to Tannyhill. As you entered, he greeted you with a warm hug, lifting you off your feet and showering you with kisses. He set you down, his face bright with a smile, contrasting sharply with the sadness that clouded your own.

Before you set out for South America to help John B with his dad, Rafe had stopped you just before boarding the plane. He promised he’d be a better person for you and wanted you to return from the trip to him. With that, he slipped one of his silver rings onto your finger and kissed you, giving a nod that it was okay to go.

There was always a powerful connection between you two, despite the class divide and his intense disdain for Pogues. You were the exception. Everyone adored you—both Pogues and Kooks alike—especially when you worked as the favorite bartender at the Country Club. You and Rafe bonded over the absence of your mothers and the shortcomings of your fathers. It was a match made in an unlikely paradise.

Though you were never officially together, largely due to his ego, you often went out publicly. Despite JJ and the group’s disdain, you convinced them—and yourself—that it meant nothing, even though deep down, you knew it did. The same could be said for Rafe with Topper and Kelce. No matter what happened, you both struggled to fully pull away from each other. Until that night.

You led Rate to the living room of Tannyhill and gently broke the news of his father's death. The color drained from his face, and his breathing grew rapid and heavy. In an attempt to console him, you placed your hand, adorned with his ring, on his arm, but he abruptly yanked it away and stood up, clearly overwhelmed. Before you could fully explain the circumstances surrounding the tragedy, Rafe erupted in anger. "This is what happens when people get close to someone like John B! Pogues are nothing but worthless pieces of shit, I trusted you all with him!" He lashed out, placing the blame on them as if Ward's insatiable greed hadn't played a role in his decisions. It was bewildering that he believed any of us wanted his father there in the first place. This wasn't any of ours fault.

"Rafe..." you pleaded, desperation lacing your voice. "I don't want to hear it! I can't even look at you right now. All those things I said to you, and you let this happen?! You got my father killed?!" His voice thundered with rage, his eyes dark and wild, veins bulging in his neck.

"You really think we wanted this? John B lost his dad too, you know that?! This was NEVER supposed to happen. I'm so sorry." But Rafe didn't want to hear your apology. "Get away from me! Don't come back! I never want to see you again," he shouted, the finality of his words slicing through you. You felt the tears streaming down your face, sorrow intertwined with disbelief. How could he say this after all the loving promises he had made before leaving? You sat in stunned silence for a moment, then carefully slid the ring off your finger and placed it on the coffee table. With a heavy heart, you turned and walked out of Tannyhill. Rafe didn't even glance back; he couldn't. Deep down, he knew he didn't mean any of it, but his anger always got the best of him.

————————————

As you emerged from your thoughts, everyone decided to head inside for the night, giving JJ some much-needed rest before the race the next day. You settled into your old bed, replacing the dust-covered sheets, and despite the whirlwind of emotions flooding your mind about being back, sleep quickly overtook you. Before long, JJ was shaking you awake, urging you to hurry and get ready.

When you arrived at the racecourse, you kept your distance from the group, sticking close to Cleo to avoid any potential confrontations.

JJ understood what was going on without needing to ask, and he respected your space; having you there, after all this time, was what mattered most to him. It was a relief, allowing you to watch from afar as Rafe interacted with Topper, their tension palpable from a distance.

As the race began, excitement surged through you. Ju took the lead, but then Rafe unexpectedly tapped him, sending both of them flipping over their bikes, igniting a chorus of cheers from the crowd.

Once the race concluded, you made your way towards the group. Topper walked by, not being able to help gloat saying something to Sarah. He then caught your eye, a smug smile on his face, but he chose not to say anything, merely walking away while shaking his head. You refused to let it bother you; Topper's opinions meant nothing, yet you knew that this would undoubtedly reach Rafe, and you hoped to slip away before that happened-at least, that was what you hoped.

As the crowd began to thin out, you felt exposed among the remaining Pogues and Kooks. Seeking a bit of refuge, you decided to head towards the shack that stored drinks and equipment for the track, needing a breather from the charged atmosphere. Just as you turned to leave, your eyes locked with Rafe's.

Your heart raced as a heavy silence enveloped you, and for a moment, neither of you could look away. In that instant, you noticed Sofia slip her arm through his and plant a kiss on his cheek. Another dark haired, brown eyes Pogue you knew from the cut and worked with the country club. He clearly had a type. She playfully pulled his attention back to her. Seizing the chance, you quickly resumed your path to the shack, desperate to put distance between yourself and the turmoil of emotions that Rafe always seemed to ignite within you.

You stepped into the shack, the sunlight streaming through the windows casting long shadows across the floor. Your heart raced with nervousness, and you weren't sure if you wanted to stay or leave. With your back to the door, you pressed one hand to your chest and the other to your forehead, trying to steady your breathing, when a low voice broke the silence.

"Hi."

You spun around to find Rafe's imposing silhouette framed in the doorway, his tall figure looming over you. "Rafe, please, just go. I don't need this. I'm here for my brother," you insisted, your voice unsteady. He chuckled, stepping further into the room, the warmth of his presence engulfing you.

"I've missed you, Maybank."

"Don't say that to me," you retorted, backing away as he moved closer. Soon, you found yourself pinned between him and the table, his blue eyes piercing through the dim light, sparkling with an intensity that made your pulse quicken. He studied you with an expression that was both longing and mischief, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear before gently cupping your face.

It left you bewildered, and you instinctively tried to push him away. "A year and a half ago, you couldn't stand me, and now you're all over me. You can never make up your mind."

A smile crept across Rafe's face. "I could never hate you. I never hated you. I was angry, sure, but I took it out on you-and you never gave me a chance to apologize. You vanished, changed your number, and everyone who knew where you were would never tell me."

"Rafe, please just go," you pleaded, feeling trapped. But before you could protest further, he lifted you effortlessly and set you down on the table.

"I can't stay away from you. Please, let us have this moment," he murmured, his voice low and earnest. He leaned in, inhaling your familiar scent-the coconut and mango shampoo mixed with a hint of jasmine perfume. Then, without warning, he pressed soft kisses against your cheek. You let out a slight moan, unable to suppress the spark of electricity that coursed through you at his touch.

He smiled against your skin, his face inching closer to yours. Then, before you could register the moment, he pulled back slightly to gaze into your eyes once more before crashing his lips against yours. The shock of the kiss momentarily stunned you, but as the reality of what was happening sank in, you found yourself responding, moving your lips against his as if you had been waiting for this moment all along.

His hands began to explore your soft skin, gliding down your arms to intertwine his fingers with yours. You felt the familiar weight of the ring that once adorned your finger. He released your hand, gripping the nape of your neck and pulling you closer as his right hand traced down your torso. You wore a thin, cropped strapless top and a mini skirt. His fingertips teased the upper hem, grazing the tops of your breasts while he moved lower, grasping your waist as if afraid to let you go.

Both of you fought for breath, pulling away to look at each other, laughter escaping your lips. “I’ve been waiting to do this again for so long,” he admitted.

“Do you think your girlfriend would appreciate you saying that to me, Rafe?”

“What?”

“Sofia, the girl outside who kissed you on the cheek?” You sarcastically remind him. “Do you think she’d appreciate this? I may be many things, but I won’t be an accomplice to cheating.”

He sighed, “That means nothing to me. If anything, she’s just a distraction while you were gone. It’s always been you I’m meant to be with. I ruined it and forced myself to move on. And now you’re back.”

You bit your finger, feeling conflicted. “But—” Before you could interrogate him more, he captured your lips in another kiss, drowning out your thoughts. His hands ventured lower, teasing the hem of your skirt. Looking into your eyes for confirmation, you nodded, giving him permission to explore further. He slipped his fingers beneath your clothing, pressing against your core, and groaned as he felt your wetness.

He swirled his fingers before moving to your clit, rubbing in deep, rhythmic motions. You broke the kiss to moan, your head thrown back, exposing your neck and chest. He kissed a trail from behind your ear to the tops of your breasts, and then, with a practiced ease, slid a finger inside you.

You gasped, leaning into the crook of his neck. “That’s a good girl. You can take a little more, right?”

You whimper a soft yes, and he added a second finger, igniting a fevered kiss filled with passion and frustration. Despite your anger, desire overwhelmed you. He pumped in and out quickly, his thumb working your clit, sending you into a frenzy. Your breaths quickened, and you were amazed that no one could hear your moans.

“That’s right, baby. Let me make you feel good. Let me make it up to you. Come for me.”

As waves of pleasure washed over you, your head spun, heart racing. With a gasp, you reached your peak, surrendering completely as he rode out your orgasm, his unoccupied hand brushing your cheek. After a few lingering pumps, he withdrew, licking his fingers clean before adjusting your panties and gazing into your eyes.

“You have no idea what you do to me,” he said softly. You struggled to find your voice, lost in the moment until the door slammed open, revealing JJ. Rage simmered within you at the thought of a confrontation between him and your brother, but Rafe turned to you. “We’ll talk more another time, baby.”

You smiled and nodded, but as he walked out, JJ turned to you with a look of disgust. “What the hell did he want?”

“Nothing. We were trying to talk before you interrupted,” you replied. “I didn’t know he saw me come in.”

“Are you going to talk to him about her?”

“I don’t know, J.”

---

I hope you like it. My first of many stories. I decided to break it into parts. Stretch it out over the month before part 2 of the season drops.

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