mountainsandmayhem-updates

[mountainsandmayhem-updates]

Happy One Year Anniversary

I am going to get really fucking sappy here, but today marks 1 year since I posted the first chapter of BDSMaid. It sounds so dramatic and crazy, but writing this actually changed my life. Like…I wrote a fucking book!!

This place, and the character of Joel, has brought so many talented and supportive women into my life. Women that feel like I’ve known forever. Literally so many of you offered to be a fresh set of eyes or saw the story moodboard before I even announced it and gave me your feedback. I’m forever grateful and I definitely am missing so many of you!!

@lotusbxtch @for-a-longlongtime @mermaidgirl30 @burntheedges @milla-frenchy @evolnoomym @beardedjoel @sawymredfox @just-here-for-the-moment

Thank you to everyone who has read this story, to everyone who helped me with this story, and to everyone who will eventually find this story.

🥂 To Joel and his Sweet Girl! 🥂

[mountainsandmayhem-updates]

In My T-Shirt

|| Joel Miller x Female Reader ||

A/N: this is VERY loosely based on a true story, but if it was Joel Miller in front of me at that time…well, I would have been a puddle. Thank you @lotusbxtch and @for-a-longlongtime for listening to me lose my mind last night. This is not at all beta’d or proofread, so just take what you get. Dividers by @saradika-graphics

C/W: kissing, flirting, dirty talk, lots of teasing, pet names (baby, sweetheart, etc.), fully clothed orgasm.

Word Count: 2.6k

My Masterlist

Working in a male dominated has more cons than pros. Most of the contractors coming in for supplies treat you like you haven’t been doing this for ten years, but not Joel Miller. No, Joel is your favourite customer, and you reckon that you might be his favourite supplier. He comes in every other day, and today you watch him from the window of your office as he hop out of his truck with a Starbucks in hand.

“Iced London Fog,” he beams. “Half sweet and with oat milk.”

“You remembered?” You all out gush.

“Course I did,” he says with a wink before telling you what he needs and you ring him up. As you pull your radio from your safety vest to call his order out to the forklift operator, his eyes flick to the logo on your shirt. His company logo.

“Nice shirt,” he teases.

“Oh thanks. Some guy I know gave it to me. Heard he’s pretty good at his job.”

“Heard he’s the best,” he jokes, puffing his broad chest out. “Got an award recently and everythin’.”

“That so? I heard his supplier put some pressure on the vendor to get that product for him AND waived the delivery fee. Lucky guy to have someone like that.” You know you’re flirting, but so is he. Your staff will probably gossip about it later. Even though you’re their boss, they all know you have a small crush on him.

Joel’s perfect lips pull into a smile, dimples forming into his sun-kissed cheeks. He leans forward to grab his invoice, his rough hand purposely caressing yours as he says, “you have no idea how lucky.”

Your phone rings about ten minutes before close, “Joel - Miller Construction” across the screen.

“Hey Joel,” you say, your usual greeting when he calls.

“Hey, sorry, I know ya close soon, but I need another few bags of that polymetric sand and I need to finish this job tonight.” You can hear the stress in his voice, yet he’s nothing but polite.

“All good. When will you be here?” You’re slightly annoyed that you’ll have to stay longer since you have a bottle of red wine at home that’s been calling your name. The thought of getting to see his big, brown eyes one more time today though wipes out any negative feelings.

“About twenty minutes or so. I can give you my card number if you wanna leave them outside the gate.” Disappointment swirls in your gut at the thought of him not wanting to see you.

“No, it’s ok. Just slide the gate open, I have some stuff to catch up on. I’ll wait.” It’s a lie. An outright lie. You don’t have anything to catch up on.

“Thank you. I’m sorry,” he coos.

“It’s all good, Joel. That’s what I’m here for,” you say with a smile, using your best customer service voice. “See you soon.”

Shortly after all your staff has punched out and left, the door bings. You pop out from the back to see Joel, his hair messy, a smudge of dirt or grease on his face from his workday. He smiles when you come into view.

“Sorry again,” he apologizes.

You’ve gotten to know Joel pretty well over the past few years that he’s been your customer, so as you pull up his order you say, “You really don’t need to apologize, Joel. I’m sorry you have to work late on a Friday. Where’s Sarah tonight?”

As he slides the chip of his credit card into the pin pad he replies, “Stayin’ with her friend Ellie from school. Havin’ a sleepover or whatever it is girls do.”

The machine beeps the sound of approval. With a soft, nostalgic laugh you say, “God I miss being a kid.”

When you look back up at him he’s looking at his company logo on the upper left part of your T-shirt, your safety vest now removed and hanging in your office. His eyes trail to the small hole in the collar part. In any other job you’d never get away with wearing a ripped shirt, but the safety vest covers it and it’s also your favourite shirt. The cotton of it is so soft, and every time you put it on you remember how shy yet proud Joel looked when he brought it in for you. It was his first round of shirts after he finalized his company logo, you’d supported him with his first job - and every job since - and he wanted you to have one.

“Looks like ya need a new shirt,” he quips, smirking slightly.

“No way, I love this shirt. Ripped collar and all.” The two of you walk towards the showroom door, he holds it open for you and both wander towards the sand he needs.

“You sure? I just got a new batch of swag. Shirts. Sweaters. Hats. Might even have a water bottle or a note pad or two in my truck.”

The two of you stop in front of the pallet of sand. “That so? How do I get some of those?” It comes out much flirtier and suggestive than you mean for it too.

Joel easily lifts two of the three bags he paid for, each of them weighing fifty pounds. His large, strong, vein-lined hands wrapping around the bags as he hoists them to rest on one of his broad shoulders. The hem of his T-shirt lifts, exposing the V of his hip. Your mouth goes dry as you look away and go to lift the third bag.

“I can get it,” he says, but you lift it with ease, holding it more like a toddler than a sack of potatoes in the way Joel is.

“I’m friggen ripped, bro,” you joke with an attempted baritone, making him laugh. As the two of you walk to his truck, you repeat, “So, what do I have to do to get one of those new shirts?”

Your gazes meet and you watch as his eyes trail slowly down your body and then back up, his eyes hungry as they pause for a second too long on your lips.

“Well…” he nearly growls, before a devious smile parts his lips.

That awkward, introverted side of yourself wants to squeal out a giggle and push at him jokingly; luckily, your cool, flirty side wins.

“You wish, Miller.”

He pops the tailgate and flips the sand bags in one smooth motion. The gravel of the parking lot crunches under his boots as he spins towards you and then steps in close. You can smell the sunscreen and freshly cut grass of his day at this proximity. His hand brushes against your stomach as he scoops the bag from your arms. Before stepping back he says, “If you ask me really nicely, I’ll let you have whatever you want.”

You haven’t even registered what he just said when he steps away. Without him close, you almost feel like you might fall over. Like his eyes locked to yours were the only thing keeping you upright. Your world starts to spin, and then there’s Joel again; Deep, coffee brown eyes looking down at you with an intensity you haven’t seen before. And, hooooly fuck, does he look sexy right now.

“I’m waiting,” he murmurs.

You clear the pins and needles from your throat gently then stammer, “Pl-please Joel?”

His breathing quickens as he watches your lips form the words. “You can do better than that. Come on…ask nicely, sweetheart.”

His hands come to your hips. You’ve imagined Joel in scenarios like this for years, but the reality of it is soooo much better. Your bottom lip slips between your teeth as you try to recall what it is that you’re supposed to be asking for.

“Joel,” you purr sweetly. “Please may I have a new shirt?”

His head lowers to yours, and now, not only does he smell like sunscreen and freshly cut grass, but also the mint of his breath.

“That all you want?” He taunts.

“N-no,” the shaky whisper of your voice barely sounds like yours.

“Water bottle?” His voice is cocky and playful. He’s a menace, you always knew it, but this is the first time you’ve really seen it. Unable to form a sentence, all you can do is nod in response. “Can’t ask nicely if you don’t use your words, baby.”

Your pressed flush against him. Joel is solid and steady against your pliable body and erratic breathing. “Can I pretty please have a water bottle, as well?”

The tip of his nose grazes just barely against yours. “Atta’ girl.”

He steps away abruptly and all the air feels like it’s been sucked from your lungs. He wanders to the rear passenger seat door as you grip onto the tailgate to attempt to ground yourself. He shuffles some things around and then wanders back to the back of the truck. He places the shirt and bottle beside your hand.

“Thank you,” you say with a gulp.

Joel’s eyes seem glued to your lips. “Fuck,” he mumbles to himself. “I really want to kiss you, but I don’t want you thinkin’ that you have to do it. This is different from our business relationship.”

“Kiss me,” you rasp.

His hands meet your waist again. He’s close. So very fucking close and your entire body is humming with anticipation.

“Are you giving me consent to kiss you?” He whispers. “Knowing that you can say no and it won’t change anything?”

“Yes, Joel. Yes. Please kiss me.” He chuckles darkly at your neediness.

“And you’ll tell me to stop if you want me to stop?”

Your cheeks flush and the frustration of being kept on the edge builds. You need Joel’s lips on yours; in fact, you don’t think you’ve ever needed anything this badly.

“I’ll tell you to stop if I want you to. Kiss me, Joel. Kiss me or I think I’m going to die.”

“Goddamn, baby girl. You have no idea what it does to me to hear you beg while you’re wearing my T-shirt.” His hard cock presses against your hip as he says it. Your hands scramble for purchase on his forearms, his nose bumping lightly against yours.

“Stop teasing,” you whine, poking out your bottom lip.

He nips at it quickly and then his mouth is on you. His warm lips fuzing with yours passionately. He wraps one arm around your back, the other cupping the back of your head. You go completely boneless for him, letting him bend and manipulate you to be closer, head tilting to let him in more. That’s all you can think. More.

You slide your hands up his forearms, over his tanned biceps until they’re wrapped around his neck. Your lips part, calling him to take whatever he wants from you, and when his tongue passes your lips to lightly swipe against yours, sparks burst behind your closed eyes and you let out a desperate whimper.

At the sound of your need for him he kisses you harder, the passion evolving into something much more heated than you’ve ever experienced. His knee presses between your thighs, getting you as close as possible while still fully clothed.

He nips your swollen bottom lip again as he pulls away, just enough to tug your hair to the side and expose your throat to him. You tense at the pain, but when his warm tongue runs up your throat you basically dissolve into him.

His facial hair scratches against your ear as he says. “Be a good girl and thank me.”

“Th-thank you, Joel,” you obey, your voice a crackling whisper of need and desire.

“You’ve been drivin’ me wild for years in that shirt,” he rasps, his lips ghosting along the sensitive skin of your neck. Your hips move on their own, grinding against the leg he has pressed where you need it most. He continues between kisses, “Did you know that? How goddamn hard I get when I see my name sitting on top of your heart.”

All you can do is pant and cant your hips.

“It’s like you belong to me.” Your nails scrape along his scalp, a mix of a gasp and moan filling the minuscule amount of space between you. “Mmm, you like that, don’t you? Me saying you belong to me?”

You capture his lips with yours, kissing him deeply as you moan a sound of agreement. Joel spins the two of you, then lifts you slightly so you’re sitting on the still lowered tailgate of his truck. You normally wouldn’t be this public with your desires, but all the businesses around you are closed and the sun is starting to set. Plus, between the tall gate that encloses the yard and all the pallets of product, the chances of being seen are low.

“More,” you hum, wrapping your legs around his hips. You can feel his cock pressing against you. “More, please. Touch me, Joel.”

His hand slips between your bodies, his warm palm cupping your pussy over your jeans. Heat spreads as you grind into his palm.

“Been imaginin’ you like this for years, baby girl. Those moans are so much prettier in reality.”

“Same,” you coo with a smile, running the tip of your nose along his jaw. You feel his entire body shudder as you gently graze his earlobe with your teeth. You whisper seductively, “I want you to kiss all of me.”

Neither of you want to break apart. Neither of you want to stop this. But it can’t happen here, not on the tailgate of his truck in the parking lot of your work.

“Come over,” he practically begs before kissing you gently, just once. “I have to install this sand, I can be home in an hour. Meet me there.”

You fake another pout and grind into his hand again. “But I’m so wet for you right now,” you tease.

“I know, sweetheart. Can feel how you’ve soaked through these jeans that hug that perfect ass of yours. Come over, I wanna be able to strip you down slowly, giving every inch of your perfect skin the attention it deserves.”

You feel your orgasm building and you tip your head back to see the deep oranges and purples of the summer sunset forming in the sky.

Joel’s lips find your jaw, his palm pressing harder into your center. Between kisses he says, “Can you come like this?”

“Yes. I’m close,” you say, bringing your eyes to meet his. The deep sparkling chocolate brown of his irises send a flush of warmth through your entire body. You feel like you’re being slowly burned to death and you never want it to stop.

“Show me,” he encourages, then you watch as his tongue peeks out to wet his bottom lip. “Use my hand.”

It doesn’t take much longer for you to come apart. He holds you tightly to his body as your boneless form twitches and shakes.

“Fuck - Joel. Oh…oh my god.”

“That’s my girl. Just let it take you.” His eyes dance along your face.

“K-kiss me,” you ask with a shaky breath as the clenching of your pussy starts to slow.

His lips meet yours tenderly, so soft that you almost think you might be imagining it. If it wasn’t for his scent surrounding you, or his strong arm still wrapped around you, you’d be convinced this was a dream. Your hips slow, but he doesn’t pull away. He kisses you, keeping you pressed to him until you’re ready.

You pull back slightly and he follows your lead.

“Come over tonight,” he states again and tucks your outgrown bangs behind your ear. His cock strains even harder at how blissed out you look. “One hour. Let me taste you properly.”

You nod, a crooked smile lifting your lips as you look up at him. “One hour,” you repeat.

[mountainsandmayhem-updates]

Maid Discreetly - Chapter Four

Tommy Miller x Female OC (18+ only)

Story Summary: After what he did to your best friend, fuck Joel Miller and the horse he rode in on! But a twist of fate has you falling for his brother, who is also your dad’s friend. Oh, and did you mention that you hate him? Can love really conquer all, or should you just settle for kinky hot sex with an older man? Chapter Summary: Fourth of July is supposed to be a holiday, so why does it feel like you're living your worst nightmare; aside from Tommy, that is. AN: Trigger warnings are underneath the cut in small red letters to avoid spoilers. Please remember to follow @mountainsandmayhem-updates for all future chapters. Divders by @saradika-graphics. As always thank you to @lotusbxtch and @for-a-longlongtime for helping me expand on my ideas and add all my punctuation xo. WC: 3.9k

Story Masterlist || My Masterlist || Joel and Kim

TW: mentions of emotional abuse/manipulation (not by Tommy), parents being parents, drinking alcohol and eating, emotional distress (Female OC is going through it, okay?)

You 

Fourth of July

“Kiddo!” Your dad bellows up the stairs, “Let’s go. Guests are going to arrive soon and your mom needs help in the kitchen.”

I’m almost twenty five, you scream internally as you apply the last swipe of your red lipstick and double check to make sure your black winged eyeliner is even. For as long as you can remember, people have been telling you that you look like Audrey Hepburn or a young Elizabeth Taylor. All of those comments have shaped your style; a carefully curated blend of 1950’s and modern. Today, your long chestnut brown hair is in a high ponytail with the ends curled under, a white and red checkered ribbon tied in a bow around the elastic. You spin in the mirror, checking to make sure your high waisted navy blue shorts aren’t showing anything they shouldn’t be and then adjust the tie of your white button up shirt. You undo another top button. The bits of collarbone and the sliver of skin between the bottom of your shirt and the top of the shorts gives your outfit that flirty, modern edge you often incorporate. 

“KIDDO!” Your dad yells again, right outside your bedroom door this time.

“Ya, I heard you,” You deadpan, grabbing your white flip flops and opening the door. 

“There’s my little Hollywood star,” he says, smiling down at you as if he and your mother haven't spent all morning stress yelling at you, and each other, over every little thing. “You look beautiful.” 

“Thanks, Dad,” you reply with a smile. “I’ll go see what Mom needs.”

Over the next hour or so, you and your mom chop, mix, and set everything out. Your parents are some of the wealthiest people in Austin, yet refused to hire people to help with the party. You wanted to be mad about it, but when your mom said that everyone deserves a day with their families you had to respect it. People with your kind of money are usually not concerned with anyone but themselves. You can often see that trait in your father, but your mom always puts others before herself. 

As you head out the patio doors to the yard, your mind wanders to Tommy. You saw him briefly when he came to pick your dad up for a round of golf the other day. It was the first time you saw him in short sleeves. You tried not to stare at his arms…you really fucking tried. Unfortunately for you, Tommy Miller was not only ripped, but his arms are also covered in tattoos. Every inch of his exposed skin, aside from his hands, was covered in black, grey and white designs. Your dad’s voice pulls you from your memories of Tommy.

“Here, kiddo,” he says, handing you a bag of ice. “For the bar.”

Your parents’ large backyard is all decked out in red, white, and blue. The pool is set to the perfect temperature, towels embroidered with the family crest rolled perfectly on the chairs, striped umbrellas popped open to offer shade to those who want it. Tables of food and small seating areas occupy the grass. Lights are strung above the entire yard for when it gets dark. It’s another incredibly hot day, so your dad had misters brought in to keep people cool. You switch the one on by the open bar before dumping the ice into the tub then double check to make sure every drink ingredient known to mankind is out for the guests. As you pour yourself a glass of chilled white wine, the one voice you didn’t want to ever hear again sounds from far too close behind you. 

“Bar maid, I’ll take a whiskey sour.” Preston laughs, thinking his jokes about you being his maid are one, still funny and two, don’t make him a misogynistic asshole. 

“Just when I thought I might actually enjoy this party,” you sigh, spinning to face him.

He holds his hand out as if he’s expecting his drink to appear. Just the sight of him sets your teeth on edge.

“Absolutely not,” you state, trying to step around him. His footsteps follow yours, blocking you between him and the bar; his eyes on your exposed skin makes you feel itchy. 

“It used to be your pleasure to make a drink for me. Remember?” His eyes haven’t met yours once, they started on your lips and are now firmly planted on your chest.  

“Things were different then,” you say. The way he stands there, one hand out in demand, the other buried in the pocket of his red dress shorts - which he’s paired with blue suede loafers and white button up shirt - is almost predatory. Even though you know him, alarm bells ring through your entire body and you move your drink out of his reach. He’s not much taller than you, but you feel small and exposed as his midnight blue eyes try to burn holes into your shirt. 

“Be the obedient daughter your dad and I always wanted, baby.” His voice is low and almost serpentine; like could strike at any time. “Make us proud. Make my drink with a smile, like you actually understand what an honour it is to serve someone from the Barnes family tree.” 

His words get sharper towards the end. Red splotches appear on his neck; your sign to either listen to him or get the fuck out of there. Preston Barnes never hit you, he was never physically abusive, but he was this. Manipulative. Conniving. He’d make a great politician, and the thought of that is enough to have bile rising in your throat.

“No.” You hate that it comes out as a shaky whisper. 

“Come on, be a good girl.” He steps in closer and you inhale as if to brace yourself for whatever is going to come next. A high-pitched voice interrupts whatever he’s trying to prove here. 

“Preston, baby! I was looking for you.” A perfect, little blonde woman appears in your vision and as she continues you pick up a hint of an accent, “Oh, hi! I’m Sasha, Preston’s fiancé.”

It shouldn’t feel like a slap in the face or like being doused with cold water and hot water collectively, but it does. She holds out her left hand, a too large square diamond perched on the slender finger she wiggles in your direction. Either she is blissfully unaware of who you are, or she’s a total bitch and you and your friend group will now have a new person to gossip about. Of course Preston would move on quickly, on paper he is a perfect match. He pulls her into his side and places a kiss on top of her head. 

“I was just getting us a drink and catching up with my old friend,” he looks back at you, at your eyes this time. He doesn’t bother to introduce you, a power move he often bragged to you about when you were on his arm. He told you he’d do it when the person in front of him isn’t worth knowing. “If you’ll excuse me though, I’d like to make my petite love a drink.”

The switch in his personality from intimidating you to love bombing her is almost enough to knock the air right out of you. As you step around him, you see Tommy across the yard. You hold his gaze for a second too long, but for whatever reason, looking in his golden brown eyes calms you; brings you back to who you are and who you promised to never be again. The insecure woman you were with Preston is not who you are today. As Preston and Sasha make their drinks, he loudly tells her about how he wants to introduce her to Jim since he’s in line to become CEO of Maid Discreetly. You swallow down the rage and walk off, letting the warmth of Tommy’s eyes burn off the oily feeling that Preston’s spiteful gaze left.

Once everyone has finished eating, you move to help clean up, collecting serving dishes and American flag embossed paper plates and napkins. Preston has found a way to pop up in every circle of conversation you’ve participated in tonight, and much to your dismay, he always manages to bring up his fiancee. Turns out, Sasha is quite a talented ballerina. She grew up in Russia, and came to America at twelve to study dance. She recently turned nineteen and her dream is to dance for the New York City Ballet. When she mentioned her goals, Preston quickly told her that she has two years before he wants a family and she’s not getting any younger. You almost feel bad for her. As you stack dishes to go into the house in your arms, Tommy’s hands appear. 

“Can I help you?” He asks before grabbing the few Pyrex dishes you have resting in your arms. 

“I’m not in the mood, Tommy,” you huff, avoiding looking at him.

“I promise you, I just want to help.” 

You place the dishes in his hands, let out a sigh, and then grab more dishes before following him into the house. As you place everything on the island, you can feel his gaze is fixed to your profile. He’s shoulder to shoulder with you - or as much as he can be since he’s almost a full foot taller than you - and close enough that you can feel the warmth of his body and smell his cologne; a mix of fresh mountain air and sawdust.  

“Thank you,” you say, trying to muster any sort of happiness into your voice, keeping your eyes on the dishes and the counter. You’ve been raised to smile and be polite, say “it’s good to see you” even if it isn’t, but something about Tommy feels…well, you aren’t really sure, since you’ve never felt this before. At first you thought it was comfort or care, but neither of those words seem strong enough. 

“Of course.” He leans forward a bit in your peripheral, getting a view of your face. “Hey, are you ok?”

Sasha’s melodic laugh comes through the large open window above the sink and rage bubbles deep in your gut. You brush past Tommy to slide it shut with a wince and a huff. He says your name softly and when you finally look at him you finally have a word for how Tommy Miller makes you feel.

Safe.

It’s like a live wire, humming, but not dangerous, and none of it makes sense because just a few weeks ago you looked at him and thought ‘asshole’. The only logical explanation is that anyone looks good when compared to Preston, but you also thought about crawling into Tommy’s lap in your dad’s office the other week. Maybe he’s just around too often when you’re feeling vulnerable. Or he’s trying to use you to get an in - just like Preston did. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” Tommy asks. 

It happens before you can stop it: an embarrassingly sad sob works its way up your throat and out your mouth. 

“Shit, sweetheart.” This time the pet name you thought you hated comes out sincere and full of love. “Come here.”

Tommy

He pulls you by the wrist into the butler’s pantry. This would be what a normal person's kitchen would look like if they were hosting a party like this; cutting boards and knives in the sink, half empty boxes of crackers and open bags of chips ready to refill bowls. He leads you to the stool in front of the counter and guides you to lean back on it before looking for tissue. 

“Sorry,” you sniff. 

“You don’t have to be. Just let it out,” he says, handing you a few Kleenexes. 

You dab gently under your eyes, looking at your lap. “This is so embarrassing.”

He should keep his hands to himself, he should get your mom or someone to come in here. He knows it's going to be his undoing, but he places his hands on the outside of your thighs and crouches in front of you. 

“Hey, look at me,” he whispers. Your sad, sparkling green eyes collide with his and his heart cracks at how broken and defeated you look. “I’m here, or I can go get someone else if you want. But I think you need to get some things out, and that’s nothing to be embarrassed about. If anyone should be embarrassed, it’s me. I could tell you were uncomfortable by the bar earlier, but I didn’t think you’d want me to intervene.”

You take a deep shuddering breath in. “You didn’t do anything wrong, Tommy.”

“This time,” he says with a small smile and you laugh humorlessly. He should have stepped in, he knows that, but he's all turned around in his head as to where the two of you stand. Plus, he’s still feeling guilty about what he said at the gala. When you don’t respond, he speaks again.

“Do you want me to get someone else? Your mom, maybe?” His fingers flex into the soft warmth of your smooth thighs subconsciously, not wanting to go. 

You shake your head, more tears flooding your lash line. 

“Alright. Are you okay?”

“No, it’s - I’ll be fine.” You give him a fake smile, just like you gave your dad in his office. He’s not fooled by that in the slightest and hates that you feel the need to act like that with him. However, he hasn’t proven to you yet the type of guy he really is, so he’s the only one in this pantry to blame for your actions.   

“I didn’t ask if you’d be fine. I know you will come out of this stronger than you already are. I asked, at this moment, if you’re okay. Those are two very different questions, sweetheart.” He swirls his thumb along your skin as you let out a slow, sad exhale. 

“Preston is my ex-fiancé. My dad fucking loves him.” He watches as you swallow hard, and even though his knees are screaming in this position, he refuses to move. “I don’t know how much you know about my family, but when I was seven, my older brother passed away. As gross or outdated as this sounds, families like ours are supposed to have a son to carry on the legacy. He’s going to give the business to Preston. I’m sure of it.”

“I’m sorry you’re dealing with all of this. For what it’s worth, your father speaks very highly of you and I’ve never once heard him mention Preston when he talks about being in California.”

A tear escapes the corner of your eye and he catches it before you can. For a split second he swears you lean into his touch as the pad of his middle finger wipes the tear away, your skin is soft and warm under his hands. His mouth waters as he catches the pear and mint scent of your perfume. Your bright green eyes sparkle sadly, but he revels in the feeling of you really looking at him for once.

“Thank you for saying that,” you whisper.

“I don’t say things that aren’t true, sweetheart.” 

“I’m sorry for ruining your time, Tommy.” 

He stands, and without thinking about it, cups your chin and tilts your gaze up to his. “Stop apologizing to me. I know we started off wrong, but if you aren’t having a good time, then neither am I. Understand?”

You nod into his palm, and then your hand lands on top of the one he still has on your leg, holding him there. “I just wish my dad would see me on the same level as Preston. He should see me above him since I’m his daughter. Fuck, at this point I would settle for equal.”

Everything about this night is killing Tommy; the feeling of your skin against his, the tears that line your lash line. If he couldn’t get you out of his mind before, he’s utterly fucked now. Regardless of that, he’s not letting go until you do.

He clears the sand that’s formed in his throat before speaking. “I think that’s a tricky thing about dads and their daughters. They’ll always see them as their little baby girl, regardless of how old they get. My niece is twenty six and a doctor, but Joel just sees that little girl he taught to ride a bike.” 

The realization of what he just said hits him like a Mack truck. Jim mentioned you were almost twenty five, which means you’re younger than Sarah. And Tommy’s standing here at thirty nine cradling your chin and wishing he could press his lips to yours and tell you everything is going to be ok. Your skin starts to burn under his palms. This is wrong. What he’s feeling, what he hopes you want, too; everything about it is wrong. He pulls his hands away and steps back, his rough palm scratching against your soft thigh as he does. He has to get some distance before he does something cataclysmic.

“I know that’s not helpful, sweetheart, but your dad is proud of you. I think I’ve heard more about you than any thoughts he has for the renovations.”

You smile and then bite the inside of your cheek before speaking. “Thank you, Tommy.”

God, he wants to kiss you. 

“Of course, sweetheart. I know we don’t know each other well, but I’m always here. Okay?”

“Yea,” you say with a nod. When you stand he steps further back to stop himself from grabbing you.

“We should get back.” He says, jerking his head towards the kitchen and the party. 

“I’m just going to go check my makeup. Thank you, Tommy. I know I already said that, but I mean it. You are slowly proving that you maybe aren’t such an asshole after all.”

He can’t stop the shit-eating grin from spreading across his face. With a laugh he says, “That killed you to say, didn’t it?”

You laugh, too, easy and genuine as you walk past him and into the kitchen. “Fuck off, Miller.”

You 

It’s been a few weeks since the Fourth of July. The rest of the party went smoothly; Preston and Sasha were gone when you got back outside, and you ended up having a really good time. Laren eventually showed up and the two of you floated in the pool on large flamingos, drinking champagne and watching the fireworks your dad arranged. Tommy looked absolutely beautiful under the dim lights. You tried not to sneak glances his way, but you swear anytime you weren’t directly looking at him, he was looking at you. 

You have a meeting with him next month to discuss the office renovation, and every time you see it in your calendar, you get butterflies. It’s ridiculous, really; he’s got to be nearing forty, what is he going to want with someone younger than his niece? Granted, Kim is younger than Joel's daughter and that didn’t stop them. Since she’s on your mind, you send Kim a quick text to see how her internship is going before heading to the office kitchen to make a coffee. 

Knowing that you’re going to be in charge of the renovation has you looking at the office differently lately. Your dad and the finance department have their offices on one side; meanwhile, you and all the other departments are on the other. There’s a large lobby and breakroom in between the two sets of offices. The lobby rarely gets used since your dad goes to the clients homes to properly quote their services, and most of the contracts are done through email or your dad meeting them for lunch or a drink. Furthermore, the purchaser’s office is downstairs in the warehouse. It’s simply not practical to have all the offices spread out like this. Your dad laid out a budget and even though it’s not much, you think you and Tommy will be able to come up with something much more efficient. 

As you steam your oat milk, Yolanda, your dad’s assistant, knocks on the door frame of the kitchen and says your name. “Your dad would like to see you.” 

She’s a firecracker of a woman; small and Hispanic, and not someone anyone would dare to mess with. She runs around the office getting your dad exactly what, or who, he needs. Anyone else in her position would be perpetually stressed, but she takes no shit and everyone, your dad included, asks ‘how high’ when she says ‘jump’. She nudges you out of the way, your cue to let her finish your coffee so you don’t keep your dad waiting. 

You knock on the open door as you walk into your dad’s office. “You asked to see me?”

Another thing that bothers you about the offices is how differently each person's office is decorated, like they were all designed by someone else and the furniture was an afterthought. Case in point: your office has large windows, a glass desk and pink and gold furniture, while your dad’s has one window with a cheap plastic shade over it, a cherry wood desk that’s way too big for the space, and a black metal filing cabinet. 

Your dad extends a hand towards the chairs across from his desk and you take a seat in one of the worn down blue chairs across from him. “Honey, I want to discuss your additional task when you’re sitting in for me. As you know, I’m going to California to start expanding and I know you’ve been chomping at the bit to onboard clients.”

“Are you giving me a client?” you ask, trying not to sound too eager or presumptuous.

“Kiddo, you know the pricing structure better than anyone else, but you also know this future client so I think it will be a good practice round.”

Excitement bubbles in your chest and you beam up at him. “Thank you, Dad!”

“It’s a bit out of town, so factor your mileage in when quoting it.” He slides a black folder with the Maid Discreetly logo on it across to you. It’s silly, but you remember when you ordered these custom folders. They’re the only black folders allowed in the office and every single one of them stays with your dad. They hold the confidential information of the hundreds of clients. Each one gets locked in that ugly black metal cabinet. 

“He’s expecting you on Wednesday at 10 AM. That gives you today and tomorrow to ensure you’re free all day for him.”

You smile. “Wednesday, 10 AM,” you repeat. “I won’t let you down.”

Yolanda appears with your coffee in hand. After you take it from her, she taps her foot impatiently, like your dad has something more important to attend to now. “Is that everything, Dad?”

“Don’t lose that folder,” he says sternly.

“Of course, Jim,” you say, using his first name so he knows how serious you’re taking this moment. You keep it pressed tightly to your body as you make a beeline for your office. It feels like every employee in the office is staring at you as you carry that important folder. Anyone who isn’t your father or the billing department has no business being in possession of this file. When you get to your office, you shut the door and take a calming breath. The name written at the top of this file is about to change the trajectory of your career, putting you on the path that you’ve been dying to take. 

You sit at your desk with shaky knees before opening the folder slowly. Your eyes eagerly scan over the name of your first potential client. Your heart thunders as you read the name again. This person both excites and terrifies you; it’s someone you can’t wait to see again but also won’t hold back with how you do during the onboarding process.

Tommy Miller.

[mountainsandmayhem-updates]

In My T-Shirt

|| Joel Miller x Female Reader ||

A/N: this is VERY loosely based on a true story, but if it was Joel Miller in front of me at that time…well, I would have been a puddle. Thank you @lotusbxtch and @for-a-longlongtime for listening to me lose my mind last night. This is not at all beta’d or proofread, so just take what you get. Dividers by @saradika-graphics

C/W: kissing, flirting, dirty talk, lots of teasing, pet names (baby, sweetheart, etc.), fully clothed orgasm.

My Masterlist

Working in a male dominated has more cons than pros. Most of the contractors coming in for supplies treat you like you haven’t been doing this for ten years, but not Joel Miller. No, Joel is your favourite customer, and you reckon that you might be his favourite supplier. He comes in every other day, and today you watch him from the window of your office as he hop out of his truck with a Starbucks in hand.

“Iced London Fog,” he beams. “Half sweet and with oat milk.”

“You remembered?” You all out gush.

“Course I did,” he says with a wink before telling you what he needs and you ring him up. As you pull your radio from your safety vest to call his order out to the forklift operator, his eyes flick to the logo on your shirt. His company logo.

“Nice shirt,” he teases.

“Oh thanks. Some guy I know gave it to me. Heard he’s pretty good at his job.”

“Heard he’s the best,” he jokes, puffing his broad chest out. “Got an award recently and everythin’.”

“That so? I heard his supplier put some pressure on the vendor to get that product for him AND waived the delivery fee. Lucky guy to have someone like that.” You know you’re flirting, but so is he. Your staff will probably gossip about it later. Even though you’re their boss, they all know you have a small crush on him.

Joel’s perfect lips pull into a smile, dimples forming into his sun-kissed cheeks. He leans forward to grab his invoice, his rough hand purposely caressing yours as he says, “you have no idea how lucky.”

Your phone rings about ten minutes before close, “Joel - Miller Construction” across the screen.

“Hey Joel,” you say, your usual greeting when he calls.

“Hey, sorry, I know ya close soon, but I need another few bags of that polymetric sand and I need to finish this job tonight.” You can hear the stress in his voice, yet he’s nothing but polite.

“All good. When will you be here?” You’re slightly annoyed that you’ll have to stay longer since you have a bottle of red wine at home that’s been calling your name. The thought of getting to see his big, brown eyes one more time today though wipes out any negative feelings.

“About twenty minutes or so. I can give you my card number if you wanna leave them outside the gate.” Disappointment swirls in your gut at the thought of him not wanting to see you.

“No, it’s ok. Just slide the gate open, I have some stuff to catch up on. I’ll wait.” It’s a lie. An outright lie. You don’t have anything to catch up on.

“Thank you. I’m sorry,” he coos.

“It’s all good, Joel. That’s what I’m here for,” you say with a smile, using your best customer service voice. “See you soon.”

Shortly after all your staff has punched out and left, the door bings. You pop out from the back to see Joel, his hair messy, a smudge of dirt or grease on his face from his workday. He smiles when you come into view.

“Sorry again,” he apologizes.

You’ve gotten to know Joel pretty well over the past few years that he’s been your customer, so as you pull up his order you say, “You really don’t need to apologize, Joel. I’m sorry you have to work late on a Friday. Where’s Sarah tonight?”

As he slides the chip of his credit card into the pin pad he replies, “Stayin’ with her friend Ellie from school. Havin’ a sleepover or whatever it is girls do.”

The machine beeps the sound of approval. With a soft, nostalgic laugh you say, “God I miss being a kid.”

When you look back up at him he’s looking at his company logo on the upper left part of your T-shirt, your safety vest now removed and hanging in your office. His eyes trail to the small hole in the collar part. In any other job you’d never get away with wearing a ripped shirt, but the safety vest covers it and it’s also your favourite shirt. The cotton of it is so soft, and every time you put it on you remember how shy yet proud Joel looked when he brought it in for you. It was his first round of shirts after he finalized his company logo, you’d supported him with his first job - and every job since - and he wanted you to have one.

“Looks like ya need a new shirt,” he quips, smirking slightly.

“No way, I love this shirt. Ripped collar and all.” The two of you walk towards the showroom door, he holds it open for you and both wander towards the sand he needs.

“You sure? I just got a new batch of swag. Shirts. Sweaters. Hats. Might even have a water bottle or a note pad or two in my truck.”

The two of you stop in front of the pallet of sand. “That so? How do I get some of those?” It comes out much flirtier and suggestive than you mean for it too.

Joel easily lifts two of the three bags he paid for, each of them weighing fifty pounds. His large, strong, vein-lined hands wrapping around the bags as he hoists them to rest on one of his broad shoulders. The hem of his T-shirt lifts, exposing the V of his hip. Your mouth goes dry as you look away and go to lift the third bag.

“I can get it,” he says, but you lift it with ease, holding it more like a toddler than a sack of potatoes in the way Joel is.

“I’m friggen ripped, bro,” you joke with an attempted baritone, making him laugh. As the two of you walk to his truck, you repeat, “So, what do I have to do to get one of those new shirts?”

Your gazes meet and you watch as his eyes trail slowly down your body and then back up, his eyes hungry as they pause for a second too long on your lips.

“Well…” he nearly growls, before a devious smile parts his lips.

That awkward, introverted side of yourself wants to squeal out a giggle and push at him jokingly; luckily, your cool, flirty side wins.

“You wish, Miller.”

He pops the tailgate and flips the sand bags in one smooth motion. The gravel of the parking lot crunches under his boots as he spins towards you and then steps in close. You can smell the sunscreen and freshly cut grass of his day at this proximity. His hand brushes against your stomach as he scoops the bag from your arms. Before stepping back he says, “If you ask me really nicely, I’ll let you have whatever you want.”

You haven’t even registered what he just said when he steps away. Without him close, you almost feel like you might fall over. Like his eyes locked to yours were the only thing keeping you upright. Your world starts to spin, and then there’s Joel again; Deep, coffee brown eyes looking down at you with an intensity you haven’t seen before. And, hooooly fuck, does he look sexy right now.

“I’m waiting,” he murmurs.

You clear the pins and needles from your throat gently then stammer, “Pl-please Joel?”

His breathing quickens as he watches your lips form the words. “You can do better than that. Come on…ask nicely, sweetheart.”

His hands come to your hips. You’ve imagined Joel in scenarios like this for years, but the reality of it is soooo much better. Your bottom lip slips between your teeth as you try to recall what it is that you’re supposed to be asking for.

“Joel,” you purr sweetly. “Please may I have a new shirt?”

His head lowers to yours, and now, not only does he smell like sunscreen and freshly cut grass, but also the mint of his breath.

“That all you want?” He taunts.

“N-no,” the shaky whisper of your voice barely sounds like yours.

“Water bottle?” His voice is cocky and playful. He’s a menace, you always knew it, but this is the first time you’ve really seen it. Unable to form a sentence, all you can do is nod in response. “Can’t ask nicely if you don’t use your words, baby.”

Your pressed flush against him. Joel is solid and steady against your pliable body and erratic breathing. “Can I pretty please have a water bottle, as well?”

The tip of his nose grazes just barely against yours. “Atta’ girl.”

He steps away abruptly and all the air feels like it’s been sucked from your lungs. He wanders to the rear passenger seat door as you grip onto the tailgate to attempt to ground yourself. He shuffles some things around and then wanders back to the back of the truck. He places the shirt and bottle beside your hand.

“Thank you,” you say with a gulp.

Joel’s eyes seem glued to your lips. “Fuck,” he mumbles to himself. “I really want to kiss you, but I don’t want you thinkin’ that you have to do it. This is different from our business relationship.”

“Kiss me,” you rasp.

His hands meet your waist again. He’s close. So very fucking close and your entire body is humming with anticipation.

“Are you giving me consent to kiss you?” He whispers. “Knowing that you can say no and it won’t change anything?”

“Yes, Joel. Yes. Please kiss me.” He chuckles darkly at your neediness.

“And you’ll tell me to stop if you want me to stop?”

Your cheeks flush and the frustration of being kept on the edge builds. You need Joel’s lips on yours; in fact, you don’t think you’ve ever needed anything this badly.

“I’ll tell you to stop if I want you to. Kiss me, Joel. Kiss me or I think I’m going to die.”

“Goddamn, baby girl. You have no idea what it does to me to hear you beg while you’re wearing my T-shirt.” His hard cock presses against your hip as he says it. Your hands scramble for purchase on his forearms, his nose bumping lightly against yours.

“Stop teasing,” you whine, poking out your bottom lip.

He nips at it quickly and then his mouth is on you. His warm lips fuzing with yours passionately. He wraps one arm around your back, the other cupping the back of your head. You go completely boneless for him, letting him bend and manipulate you to be closer, head tilting to let him in more. That’s all you can think. More.

You slide your hands up his forearms, over his tanned biceps until they’re wrapped around his neck. Your lips part, calling him to take whatever he wants from you, and when his tongue passes your lips to lightly swipe against yours, sparks burst behind your closed eyes and you let out a desperate whimper.

At the sound of your need for him he kisses you harder, the passion evolving into something much more heated than you’ve ever experienced. His knee presses between your thighs, getting you as close as possible while still fully clothed.

He nips your swollen bottom lip again as he pulls away, just enough to tug your hair to the side and expose your throat to him. You tense at the pain, but when his warm tongue runs up your throat you basically dissolve into him.

His facial hair scratches against your ear as he says. “Be a good girl and thank me.”

“Th-thank you, Joel,” you obey, your voice a crackling whisper of need and desire.

“You’ve been drivin’ me wild for years in that shirt,” he rasps, his lips ghosting along the sensitive skin of your neck. Your hips move on their own, grinding against the leg he has pressed where you need it most. He continues between kisses, “Did you know that? How goddamn hard I see my name sitting on top of your heart.”

All you can do is pant and cant your hips.

“It’s like you belong to me.” Your nails scrape along his scalp, a mix of a gasp and moan filling the minuscule amount of space between you. “Mmm, you like that, don’t you? Me saying you belong to me?”

You capture his lips with yours, kissing him deeply as you moan a sound of agreement. Joel spins the two of you, then lifts you slightly so you’re sitting on the still lowered tailgate of his truck. You normally wouldn’t be this public with your desires, but all the businesses around you are closed and the sun is starting to set. Plus, between the tall gate that encloses the yard and all the pallets of product, the chances of being seen are low.

“More,” you hum, wrapping your legs around his hips. You can feel his cock pressing against you. “More, please. Touch me, Joel.”

His hand slips between your bodies, his warm palm cupping your pussy over your jeans. Heat spreads as you grind into his palm.

“Been imaginin’ you like this for years, baby girl. Those moans are so much prettier in reality.”

“Same,” you coo with a smile, running the tip of your nose along his jaw. You feel his entire body shudder as you gently graze his earlobe with your teeth. You whisper seductively, “I want you to kiss all of me.”

Neither of you want to break apart. Neither of you want to stop this. But it can’t happen here, not on the tailgate of his truck in the parking lot of your work.

“Come over,” he practically begs before kissing you gently, just once. “I have to install this sand, I can be home in an hour. Meet me there.”

You fake another pout and grind into his hand again. “But I’m so wet for you right now,” you tease.

“I know, sweetheart. Can feel how you’ve soaked through these jeans that hug that perfect ass of yours. Come over, I wanna be able to strip you down slowly, giving every inch of your perfect skin the attention it deserves.”

You feel your orgasm building and you tip your head back to see the deep oranges and purples of the summer sunset forming in the sky.

Joel’s lips find your jaw, his palm pressing harder into your center. Between kisses he says, “Can you come like this?”

“Yes. I’m close,” you say, bringing your eyes to meet his. The deep sparkling chocolate brown of his irises send a flush of warmth through your entire body. You feel like you’re being slowly burned to death and you never want it to stop.

“Show me,” he encourages, then you watch as his tongue peeks out to wet his bottom lip. “Use my hand.”

It doesn’t take much longer for you to come apart. He holds you tightly to his body as your boneless form twitches and shakes.

“Fuck - Joel. Oh…oh my god.”

“That’s my girl. Just let it take you.” His eyes dance along your face.

“K-kiss me,” you ask with a shaky breath as the clenching of your pussy starts to slow.

His lips meet yours tenderly, so soft that you almost think you might be imagining it. If it wasn’t for his scent surrounding you, or his strong arm still wrapped around you, you’d be convinced this was a dream. Your hips slow, but he doesn’t pull away. He kisses you, keeping you pressed to him until you’re ready.

You pull back slightly and he follows your lead.

“Come over tonight,” he states again and tucks your outgrown bangs behind your ear. His cock strains even harder at how blissed out you look. “One hour. Let me taste you properly.”

You nod, a crooked smile lifting your lips as you look up at him. “One hour,” you repeat.

[mountainsandmayhem-updates]

Maid Discreetly - Chapter Three

Tommy Miller x Female OC (18+ only)

Story Summary: After what he did to your best friend, fuck Joel Miller and the horse he rode in on! But a twist of fate has you falling for his brother, who is also your dad’s friend. Oh, and did you mention that you hate him? Can love really conquer all, or should you just settle for kinky hot sex with an older man? Chapter Summary: After a truly horrible day you come face to face with the last man you want to, but the same man you can't stop thinking about. AN: Trigger warnings are underneath the cut in small red letters to avoid spoilers. Please remember to follow @mountainsandmayhem-updates for all future chapters. Divders by @saradika-graphics. As always thank you to @lotusbxtch and @for-a-longlongtime for helping me expand on my ideas and add all my punctuation xo. WC: 3.9k

Story Masterlist || My Masterlist || Joel and Kim

cw: dad's being dads, men being men, talks of sex toys, reader drinks wine and the men drink whiskey. Reader has a bad day at work.

Tommy

Joel: Can you stop by the office today? I have a new contract for you. Tommy: Office? So official Tommy: I’ll be at the club tonight, meet there? Joel: I can’t be in that club anymore. Can barely be here. Tommy: Remember those terrible vampire movies Sarah used to like? Joel: Unfortunately Tommy: You’re acting like that girl when the vampire left Joel: I’m here until 5

Tommy sits across the dark wooden desk from Joel, studying his brother while he slides the contract to him. The dark circles below his eyes seem lighter today, which means he probably got some sleep for once. Joel was at JMKink - the exclusive members only kink club they own with their friend Tess - the day after the gala, sitting at the bar and actively ignoring everything and everyone around him. At first, Tommy took it as a good sign. Kim had been gone for about eight months at that point and it looked like Joel was ready to move on. Unfortunately, Joel hasn’t been back since. Between losing Tiffany and now Kim, Tommy has seen Joel go through heartbreak more times than someone like him deserves. Maybe he should take this as a warning - nothing good can come from getting involved with younger women. After all, Tommy has always considered himself the younger, hotter brother, and he needs his beauty sleep to keep that up. Not that he really needs a warning, falling in love isn’t for him, not in the way it is for Joel, so no real harm can come from daydreaming about that girl from the gala. 

“Sounds like he wants an office renovated here and possibly one in California, and then also looking to build a home,” Joel says, sliding off his reading glasses and leaning back in his black leather desk chair.

Tommy looks around his newly renovated office. “Speaking of, looks good in here, man.”

Joel sighs, “Thanks. So, look, the California office could be tricky since the local regulations there aren’t always the same as here, but I have an architect there that’ll be on call for you.”

“Did it help?” Tommy asks, choosing to file away the bit about California and the architect, and focus on the facelift Joel has given his office.

“What?” Joel snips, annoyance growing in his voice, but when he meets Tommy’s gaze he softens a little. 

Tommy gesture’s around the room. “This. All of this. Did it help?”

Joel looks around the room and then back at Tommy, “At the time, but now that it’s done I feel the same.”

As much as Tommy likes to tease his older brother, he does care about him more than anything else. He leans forward, reaching a hand across the desk to rest on Joel’s. “Are you sure you’re ok?” 

The small smile that Joel gives him is forced, the soft melancholy in his eyes revealing what he won’t say. “I’m fine, I just fucking miss her. Falling in love again wasn’t part of the plan, you know that. Changes things, ya know?”

Tommy chuckles as he moves his hand towards the contract, snatching it up and waving it at his brother as he responds, “I don’t know, and after seeing all the shit you’ve been through I’ll continue to stay far away.”

Joel lets out a small laugh as Tommy settles in his chair. As he flips through the contract he thinks about you again. You mentioned Kim, which means Joel may know your name. He glances over the paper at Joel, whose gaze is focused on his hands, the pad of his left thumb rubbing along the cuticle of his right one. Even without making eye contact, Tommy can see the dim, almost lifeless look of his eyes. He won’t admit it to himself, but not bringing you up with Joel is more to protect himself than his older brother. He makes a silent pact with himself that if you’re still the main character of his subconscious in a month that he’ll ask.

You

It’s been a truly shit day. 

First, one of your maids called in sick. Then, shortly after sorting out who would take her clients, another called you to say her bathroom cleaner slipped from her hand as she was walking and she got bleach on a custom Louis Vuitton bathrobe. You got absolutely torn apart by the client on the phone when you called to report it and after ordering him a new one you decided you deserved a small treat. 

You had barely made it out of the parking lot when your phone rang with yet another problem; this time, the cleaning supplies you ordered were going to be delayed by six weeks due to a recall of one of the ingredients. You turned around, foregoing your Starbucks, and went to talk to the warehouse supervisor about what items were needed most so you could start sourcing them elsewhere. After six hours on the phone with different suppliers, and a missed lunch break, you tried to call it a day, but the universe had other plans for your evening.

The low air pressure warning comes on just seconds before your steering wheel jerks to the right on its own. 

Fuck, flat tire.

Tension from the stress of the day causes your jaw to ache. You turn on your hazards and pull into the shoulder of the highway then get out to assess the damage. Before hopping back into your Bently, you snap a picture of the tire and call AAA. 

“I’m sorry, honey, you’re looking at about a two hour wait because of rush hour,” a woman with a thick southern accent says. 

You sigh, “Don’t worry about it then. Thanks anyways.”

You didn’t mean to come off rude or annoyed, but you just wanted to go home and sink into a bubble bath with a glass of white wine. 

Guess I’m doing this myself, you think, looking down at your cream coloured paperbag pants and white button up, both of which will be ruined after this. 

You gather everything you need from the trunk and swap out the tire for your spare, then drive to the nearest tire shop. Just when you think you’re in the home stretch, the man at the counter sees you as a target and tries to tell you he can’t repair it and that you need a whole new set of tires. He tries every slimy tactic in the book, but you don’t back down. You and your father haven’t always seen eye to eye, but in times like this, you’re thankful for him. A good portion of the population would believe this man; you, however, know the puncture is not on the sidewall and, due to the angle of the nail you ran over, the tire simply needs to be dismounted and a two piece patch/plug combination needs to be used. When he tries to bring up the wear on your tread, you stop him and let him know that a 6/32 tread or deeper is perfectly acceptable, plus your Bentley is brand new. The actual repair on the tire is quick, but you pull into your side of the four car garage about two hours later than you had hoped.

“I’m home,” you call out. The silence of the house is broken up by your dad’s laugh coming from upstairs. You go into the kitchen and scrub the dirt and oil off your hands, blowing the dark strands of hair that have fallen out of your half up, half down hairstyle from your face. You pour a large glass of wine, then take it and the bottle upstairs. 

“Honey? Is that you?” Your dad calls from his office, when the top stair lets out its signature groan.

“Nope,” you say from the hallway towards his cracked door, trying your hardest to be chipper. “It’s me.”

“Oh, there’s someone here I want you to meet.”

You roll your eyes, “Right now?”

“Yes, just quickly.” He says, and you can tell from the slight slur of his words that he’s at least two whiskey’s deep. Your dad is a good man and he rarely drinks, so he’s a cheap drunk when he does. Unfortunately for him, whiskey and business deals usually go together in Texas.

You look in the mirror hanging at the top of the stairs, and put your glass and the bottle on the small table underneath it before trying to smooth your hair. As you step into your dad’s office, your eyes fall to him immediately. 

Tommy fucking Miller, mister ‘I’m-at-table-twelve’ himself.

Before you can say anything, your dad starts.“Honey, this is my friend Tommy Miller. He’s gonna be doing some projects for us.”

Fuuuuuck that.

“Miss,” Tommy says, standing and extending his hand to you. You grip his large hand harder than necessary, shaking it as your dad introduces you. “Pleasure to meet you.”

Pure, white-hot rage simmers under your skin. Why the fuck is he acting like Mister Manners? And friend? No, the bible on the table in your dad’s office is proof enough that he would never be friends with a man who owns a sex club. Your mother, who is far more religious than your dad, would be horrified, no doubt scrubbing everything Tommy touched with holy water. Fuck, she might even bring in the priest at church to perform an exorcism on the air in the home. 

“You too,” you say, trying to ignore the way his hand is soft yet firm as he shakes yours.   

“Kiddo,” your dad says, clearly forgetting that this is a business meeting and he should be treating you like any other employee. Those were his stipulations for you when you moved from cleaning and into the office. You’re not to call him dad, yet he doesn’t seem to have that same rule for himself - ever. He continues, “I wanted to talk to you about the office here in Austin. Kim is doing really well in California. My email is flooded with requests for services. I think it’s time for me and your mother to go out there and start the process of hiring a staff. I was thinking you could sit in for me here.”

You don’t miss the careful wording of what he’s said. “Sit in”, not “take over”. You also don’t miss that he’s saying this at 8pm in his home office while you’re not only covered in dirt, but also have an audience featuring Tommy “every-woman-undresses-me-with-their-eyes-because-I’m-so-fine” Miller. 

I’ll work on the name, you think angrily before forcing a smile across your face. 

“Thanks, Dad. Yes, I would love to.” You can feel Tommy’s eyes burning into you, so you smile bigger, exposing more teeth than anyone ever has. If your dad had set this meeting at the office during normal business hours, he would have been trapped there to listen to you pitch why you want more. You know you can handle more, you know you deserve more, and the fact that he’s chosen this time to offer you a chance to “sit in” just further hammers in the paranoia that he’s not planning to let you take over. All of this was intentional, and your heart and stomach simultaneously sink; yet, you hold your head high and keep your smile bright.

“Wonderful,” he exclaims, clapping his hands once and then grabbing his whiskey. “Tommy’s going to be doing the renovations at the office, so I’ll let you handle all the meetings with him. Work with him, kiddo, let's make sure his crew can get in and out as easily as possible.”

You glance towards Tommy, something about his face is smug and all-knowing, and you’ve never wanted to punch someone so badly, but then he blinks. With that simple subconscious reflex, everything about him changes and the air in the room feels thicker. Something akin to sympathy fills his big brown eyes and he gives you a tight lipped smile. No one has ever looked at you like this; benevolent, understanding, supportive. It was too dark at the gala to make out the more delicate features of his face, but now you can see a sprinkling of freckles across his nose and cheeks; it gives a softness to his edge. The way his eyes dance around your face is like a silent call of understanding. The urge to punch him eases, the ache in your bones from the day intensifies, and an overwhelming desperation to climb into Tommy’s lap weaves itself in your mind. You want to feel the heat of his body as he wraps those big arms around you. You’d tuck your head beneath his chin and tell him how your future feels like it’s slipping through your fingers. He won’t judge you for pouting and saying it’s not fair to be asked to sit in when you’ve worked so fucking hard. Instead, you imagine that his grip would tighten, his lips pressing a kiss to the top of your head. The thought of receiving physical and emotional comfort makes the back of your eyes burn.

“Of course,” you say, looking back at your dad. As always, his expression is unreadable. To distract yourself from the lump that’s formed in your throat you look down at your pants and then force your tone to be polite and perfect, exactly what’s expected of you. “Please excuse me, it’s been a bit of a day. Dad, can you give Tommy my information, please?”

“Already done, honey,” he says with a smile before you spin towards the door, willing yourself to not cry until you’re out of the room.

You get about five steps into the hallway when Tommy’s hushed voice saying your name meets your ears. “Wait. Look I just…”

Tears flood your lash line and you force them back before turning to face him. You can’t do this right now, regardless of how looking at him just felt, it’s not real and you’re too vulnerable. “Just what? Why are you here? To be a prick again?”

He pushes his hands into his dark jean pockets, his expression downright sheepish as he says, “No, I didn’t,” he shakes his head and looks at his shoes. Without looking up he says, “Look, I’m sorry.”

You scoff, grabbing your wine glass and the bottle from the table. The words are like venom as they leave your lips, “Men like you don’t mean it when they apologize.”

“Men like me?” He sounds winded. 

“Yes,” you say, keeping your voice at an angry hushed whisper. Tommy avoids the dagger-filled glare you give him as you continue, “Men who think they’re god’s gift to women. Men like you and your brother.”

That gets his attention, and his eyes dart to yours. “I was an asshole that night,” he confesses, then gestures around the grandness of the hallway and vast, sweeping staircase. “All of this makes me uncomfortable. We are in very different tax brackets. I didn’t belong at that gala. I don’t belong here. My actions that night were a defence mechanism. I know that’s a piss poor excuse but I am sorry. I understand if you don't believe me. I promise that I’m not that guy and I will prove it somehow.”

You stand frozen. Of all of the things that could have come out of his plush lips, that’s not what you thought you’d hear.

Don’t refer to his lips as plush.

“I had a really shitty day, Tommy.” He doesn’t say anything, just nods as you turn around and head to your bedroom.

Tommy

“Find the bathroom ok?” Jim says, adjusting the bible on the small table between the two armchairs the both of them have been occupying, 

“Yes, thanks. So, Joel mentioned a potential home being built?” He asks as he sinks back into the plush, brown leather chair.

Jim takes a sip of his whiskey and nods. “This has to stay between us, but it doesn’t look like my dear daughter will be getting married anytime soon.” The implication that you’d need, or want, a man to provide for you causes irritation to prickle at the base of his skull; but there are too many thoughts swirling through his brain, so he shuts it out and tries to listen to Jim. “I’d like to build her a house. I bought a lot about three blocks away.”

Tommy tries to engage in conversation, but the newly-developed guilt that he’s been fantasizing about his new friend's ��dear daughter” for the last few weeks claws at his stomach. He thought he would never see her again, never see her intoxicating green eyes, or her dewy olive tanned skin. She was a safe fantasy, but now that he knows who she is, what her name is, and more importantly what her last name is; he has to stop. There are a few very prominent surnames in Austin; everyone knows who those families are, and people with those last names, her last name, don’t end up with a Miller. Furthermore, he likes Jim, respects what he’s built and his nose for business. As his friend, he cannot have those kinds of thoughts about his daughter.  

“Speaking of which,” Jim says loudly, bringing Tommy back to the conversation, he’s not sure what they were speaking of to get to this point, but he smiles at him nonetheless and Jim doesn’t seem to notice. “You should come to the Fourth of July party. Marilyn, my wife, well, she would love to have you.”

“That’d be great, Jim. I can definitely stop by.” Just as he finishes his sentence he hears two sounds simultaneously. Water being turned on and a distinct buzzing. He shifts in his seat, realizing that your bathroom must be just on the other side of the wall across from him. Does this mean you’re naked, your soft skin glistening as the water runs down it? And the buzzing?

“Excuse me a moment,” Jim says, picking up his phone that’s on silent and vibrating on the desk. Tommy lets out a slow breath after Jim leaves the office, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose. 

The angel on his shoulder tries to talk some sense into him. You gotta stop, Tommy. This is not ok. You just mistook a phone ringing for her using a vibrator. You shouldn’t even be thinking about her with a vibrator! The devil, on the other hand, throws in a very unhelpful again.

He distracts himself by looking around the office. Large french doors serve as the entrance from the hallway, there’s an oversized dark wood desk along the back wall where they started their meeting and then the two chairs they occupy now  to the left of it. A cross hangs on the wall above him and a worn copy of the bible on the table between them. Tommy was never raised to be religious. His grandma would say grace before their weekly family dinners on Sundays, but they never went to church. It dawns on Tommy that Jim must not know about Joel and the club. Local church groups have always made their disdain for that place known. Protesting and trying to get them shut down. This is why Tommy is a silent partner. He can run JM Construction without anything except a shared last name tying him to JMKink. Joel keeps a pretty low profile, and every member of JMK signs all sorts of contracts that bind them to secrecy. 

The wall across from him, the one your bathroom must share, is covered in Jim’s accolades and family photos that he didn’t notice originally. Pictures of you as a baby, on family vacations, and at various graduations are all framed and proudly displayed. You’re right there on the wall, and have been the entire meeting. His disinterest in family life caused him to miss it. A few photos have an older sibling in them and a sense of longing tugs at Tommy’s heartstrings seeing all those memories on the wall. 

That’s new, he thinks to himself. 

When Jim comes back in, Tommy stands and shakes his hand. “Thanks again, Jim. Really looking forward to the projects.”

“Remember, the house stays between us,” Jim says with a wink.

“Absolutely. I guess I’ll see you on the fourth.”

“Come around four. We’ll have everything, so just bring your appetite.” Jim’s free hand claps Tommy’s shoulder and then he shows him out.  Tommy sits in the driveway in his dark blue, hand restored 1969 Mustang for a few minutes, staring up at the house. His irritation from earlier spreads. He likes Jim, a lot, but viewing his daughter as someone who can’t purchase a home on her own causes his molars to clench together. He barely knows you, but he knows you’re smart and independent, and the last thing you’d need is the type of spoiled, mediocre boy your dad probably envisions you with. Those are the “men like you” that you tried to lump him in with, but Tommy is not that kind of guy. He is, however, someone who is true to his word, so he will prove to you exactly who he is over the course of the renovations. 

You

The warm lavender scented water wraps around you and you can’t fight the lump in your throat anymore. You let the small sob pass your lips, then clamp a hand over them, worried that your dad or Tommy might be able to hear you on the other side of the wall. Tears carve lines down your face as they fall freely from your eyes. You hear your ex-boyfriends words as clear as day.

“Your dad is still going to leave me the business. You know he will, so if you think ending things with me means never seeing me again, you’re sadly mistaken.”

Your dad loved Preston. On paper, he was the best man for you. He came from wealth, his trust fund made yours look like peanuts and half the buildings downtown had plaques with his great grandpa’s name on them. He was a business student with a major in accounting and always knew exactly what to say to flatter your father. You overheard them one day talking about Maid Discreetly, Preston giving him all his thoughts about the business and how to grow it along with your dad.

He wants you to sit in for him. Not take over. While your dad was getting drunk with Tommy, you were looking for alternate suppliers and ensuring that the business could continue to run. You were getting screamed at over a miniscule little bleach stain on a robe. You were rearranging schedules to cover a sick maid. Now, you have to smile and nod and act like you’re so grateful to “sit in” on a job that everyone knows should be yours. Six figure salary or not, you deserve more.

Then there was Tommy. What was with his nice guy act today? And why do you hate that more than you hated how he spoke to you at that gala? He seemed fake today, aside from that brief moment in your dad’s office where you knew he could tell how disappointed you were, no matter how big of a fake smile you plastered on. You sink further into the deep soaker tub and close your eyes. Your Lollia bubble bath pops softly and you focus on the quiet crackling sound instead of the deep-rooted disappointment that today has unearthed. Tommy’s soft brown eyes appear in the dark. 

Am I wrong about him?

[mountainsandmayhem-updates]

✨ chapter 3 tomorrow! ✨

Maid Discreetly

Tommy Miller x Female OC

18+ || The BDSMaid Series

Summary: After what he did to your best friend, fuck Joel Miller and the horse he rode in on! But a twist of fate has you falling for his brother, who is also your dad’s friend. Oh, and did you mention that you hate him? Can love really conquer all, or should you just settle for kinky hot sex with an older man?

TW: age gap, open door romance scenes involving aspects of BDSM, sub/dom dynamics, fully described female OC. Similar to BDSMaid, TW will be below the cut in small, red lettering to avoid spoilers to those who care.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3 - May 12

Chapter 4 - May 26

Chapter 5 - June 9

Chapter 6 - June 23

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Epilogue

Chapter dates not listed are TBD, chapter numbers and dates are all subject to change

[mountainsandmayhem-updates]

Maid Discreetly - Chapter Two

Tommy Miller x Female OC - 18+

Story Summary: After what he did to your best friend, fuck Joel Miller and the horse he rode in on! But a twist of fate has you falling for his brother, who is also your dad’s friend. Oh, and did you mention that you hate him? Can love really conquer all, or should you just settle for kinky hot sex with an older man? Chapter Summary: You and Tommy go about your everyday lives and try not to think about your unfortunately first encounter AN: Trigger warnings are underneath the cut in small red letters to avoid spoilers. Please remember to follow @mountainsandmayhem-updates for all future chapters. Thank you SO MUCH for all the love on Chapter One, there's so much in store for these two cutie pies! Divders by @saradika-graphics. As always thank you to @lotusbxtch and @for-a-longlongtime for helping me expand on my ideas and add all my punctuation xo. WC: 3k

Story Masterlist || My Masterlist || Joel and Kim

CW: female character is fully developed OC, so are her friends; mutual pining; dirty talk (Tommy has a filthy mouth); dick pronouns; blow job/throat fucking; sub/dom dynamics; aftercare; name calling (but hot)

You

It’s been exactly fourteen days, sixteen hours and fifteen minutes since your unfortunate encounter with Tommy - not that you’ve been counting. You’ve allowed his deep voice to play over and over in your mind more times than you care to admit. 

“You know, sweetheart, your little tantrum would be much more believable if you weren’t undressing me with your eyes.”

You most definitely were not undressing him with your eyes. You thought he was Joel for fuck’s sake, and that goes against every code in the girl friendship handbook. However, once you learned he wasn’t Joel…well, you’d be lying if you didn’t admit that you weren’t sneaking glances his way throughout the night.

Like it or not, Tommy Miller is an incredibly attractive man; dark curly hair, expressive russet brown eyes and high cheekbones. It was too dark in the room to be sure, but you thought you saw a cluster of freckles across his nose and cheeks. His thick moustache was neatly trimmed, sitting perfectly above his plush lips. He gave off cowboy-meets-white-collar vibes. Granted, based on how broad he is and the way his suit jacket was hanging on by a goddamn thread around his biceps, you wouldn’t be surprised if he had been a cowboy at one point in his life. Your stomach flips at the thought of him in a cowboy hat. Even a bonafide city girl like yourself knows when a man looks like he can throw around a bale of hay.

Complete and total prick, you remind yourself, as you adjust your rearview mirror of your Bently before pulling out of your parking space at work. I am probably old enough to be his daughter. Who says something like that to someone that much younger? 

You push Tommy out of your mind and shift your focus on the summer ahead as you drive. Kim is positively thriving in California. She’s been cleaning for two of your dad’s very well-connected friends. Based on last month’s customer survey results, they’ve spread the word and have friends who are interested in hiring her, but Kim doesn’t have time with school and internships to take on anyone else. Austin is great for business, but California could be a literal jackpot for Maid Discreetly - celebrities, athletes, politicians, CEO’s; a plethora of potential clients who would benefit from a service like your dad’s. As much as you were hoping for a summer with her, you understand her staying in California for a summer law internship. That leaves just you, your cousin Laren, and Ophelia.

Laren has been busy planning her upcoming wedding while secretly running her topless catering company. Her father, who is your mom’s brother, is still very active in the church and expects the same level of devotion from his children. While they think she’s just an event planner, she’s actually so much more. You wonder if Sean, her husband-to-be, knows what she truly does for a living, and, if not, will she tell them once they’re married and living together? It still blows your mind that your uncle is so old-school that he won’t allow Laren and Sean to live together until after their wedding. 

Ophelia was always more Kim’s friend, seeing as they lived off campus together during college. After losing her spot as Miss Texas, and not having any of her modeling contracts renewed because of it, she decided to go to college and is now in her final year of business school. 

You turn the dial on your AC, blasting the cool air as you pull onto the freeway. June has come in hot, literally. It’s unseasonably warm, which usually means it’ll be a dry summer and the whole city will panic when the clouds finally decide to bless us with rain. Luckily, both you and Laren have pools at home, and your family is connected enough to have a summer pass at The Wayback hotel’s Cabana Club, so you and your friends are going to be nice and cool. 

Laren convinced you to take off early today and meet at the hotel. It’s a short drive from your downtown office, tucked into the hills of Austin, and feels like you’re on vacation while being in your own city’s backyard. You pull into the valet, hand your keys to someone who barely looks old enough to drive and meet Laren in the lobby. After changing into your swim attire, you both head out to two reserved chairs. 

“Fuck, this is nice,” Laren whispers under her breath as she unties the sheer black wrap from her waist, now just in a neon pink tie bikini. She already has a golden brown hue to her skin. 

“Beyond nice. I think we should do some networking here,” you respond, looking around at the wealth that seems to be dripping off of most of the people. Wives soak in the vitamin D in small swimsuits, the men beside them in linen dress pants and white button up shirts, their eyes glued to a phone or laptop screen. You note the few men who aren’t completely focused on their devices, sneaking glances at the women they are with. It’s quite likely that they are a mistress or inappropriately young girlfriend instead of a wife.  

Laren practically melts into her fluffy white pool chair. “Speak for yourself. I’m here to forget about work. Honestly, if I was you and knew I was going to have access to a forty million dollar trust fund on my twenty-fifth birthday, I wouldn’t have half the work ethic you do.” 

You shush your cousin and shoot her a glare as you dig through your Stella McCartney tote for your sunscreen; the last thing you need is everyone here knowing who you are. Growing up, your last name was a burden. Kids in your public school were pushed towards you by their parents, everyone wanting to be friends with the rich girl. When you moved to private school, you were looked down upon as the “public school trash” until everyone learned your last name. Being an awkward teenager is hard enough without debutante balls and boys being introduced to you as potential suitors. You’re grateful for it now, and recognize all the opportunities it has opened for you, but having the last name you do is a weight on your shoulders. The only child, the namesake, somehow expected to carry on a legacy. 

You slide back on your chair, applying sunblock to your legs. “I’m hoping if I bring in clients, my dad will finally let me take on more responsibility. Kim is going to crush it in California, I know she will, which means my parents are going to have to spend more time there to hire a staff and bring in more clients. I want to take over in Austin.” 

Laren reclines her chair and sighs. “Babe, you’re going to take over. You are the most qualified person to do so when your dad is ready.” 

You rub some of the coconut scented SPF into your chest as you speak. “I know. I just want to show him that I can do it now. I’m sick of being his daughter who does just the hiring and training, ya know?” 

“Hey,” Laren sits up and squeezes your knee gently so you’ll look at her. “Without you, none of those houses would get cleaned to the standards they do. Which means your dad wouldn’t be able to charge out the nose. You are so much more than just hiring and training.”

 You click the cap of the sunscreen closed and place it on the small wicker table between you and Laren. “Deep down I know that, but there’s a very real part of me that feels like my dad is going to marry me off and give the job to the husband that he’s deemed worthy.”

Laren doesn’t know all the details and stipulations around your trust fund. Fuck, you aren’t even sure you know every little piece of fine print. The three things you’ve always been told are a college degree, being at least twenty-five years of age, and your nuptials must be approved by your dad. You’re nowhere near marriage, but you are dangerously close to the minimum age.

 Does this mean I won't get access to my trust fund soon? Or can my dad just take it away if I marry someone he doesn’t feel is up to his standards? The questions run rampant in your mind. You make a mental note to talk to your mom about it.

Laren uses her free hand to slide her sunglasses down her nose, a line of concern between her brows, “Did your dad say that?”

You sigh, laying back on your chair and rolling your head to look at her. “He didn’t have to.”

Rage flares behind her eyes. Luckily, she keeps her voice quiet as she says, “Did your piece of shit ex tell you that?”

A deep breath fills your lungs and you shake your head, “No, like I said, it’s just a feeling.”

As you lounge back in your chair you swallow hard, trying not to think about Preston. It’s been a few months since you ended things with him. The relief you felt when he walked out of your bedroom that night was like taking a breath of fresh air for the first time, but the words he said throughout your three year relationship still linger. 

She follows your lead and settles back in her chair, turning her face up to the sun. “That loser did a real number on you, didn’t he?”

“Unfortunately,” you deadpan, following it with a humourless laugh. You let out a slow, relaxing breath, forcing all the thoughts of him out and then focus on the warmth of the sun splashing across your skin. Slowly, the heat of the day turns your muscles into goo. It’s quiet between the two of you for a few minutes before Laren snickers. 

“What’s so funny?” you murmur, rolling your head towards her.

“I just still can’t believe you yelled at Tommy Miller at that gala.” She says with a laugh.

You swat her arm before rolling onto your stomach. “Shut up.” 

“Sorry, I just hate that I missed it. Plus, he’s so fucking handsome. I’m surprised you don’t remember him from that poker game. Fuck, I would have loved to see him all dressed up.”

“He’s abhorrent.” You say, holding back a smile.

Laren snickers again, “Whatever helps you sleep at night, babe.”

Tommy 

“Get me hard. Suck on him,” he practically growls at the woman kneeling in front of him as he twists his hand into her hair. He has a full window of onlookers at JMKink tonight, just the way he likes it. 

Kya is a new sub to him; she pays him for an hour every other week and this is their second session together. The first one went really well, but of course it did; the algorithm that JMKink uses in their app wouldn’t pair them up if they didn’t have complimentary kinks. She likes to be dominated and, like Tommy, wants people to watch. Tommy is the reason that you can open the windows of the rooms available to rent. It’s optional, lots of people keep them closed, but if you want the members of the club in the dark voyeur room on the opposite side of the glass to watch, all you do is pull open the thick black blind. You can also choose if you want them to be able to hear what’s happening; Tommy always allows for both. 

He doesn’t agree with all the rules that come with being a member, mainly the one that states condoms must be worn. Tommy loves watching his cum leak out of freshly fucked pussy just as much as he loves being watched. Him, Joel, and Tess have discussed the rule again and again, and even with the required test results, and everything happening in the club being consensual, it’s just too risky. But, his business partners have agreed that when he finds a sub that he has the right chemistry with, Tommy can have paid performances that can be condom free. This is not that night though.  

Tonight, Kya specifically asked for her throat to be fucked after being edged. In fact, she requested for him to not let her come at all. After almost forty minutes of him bringing her to the brink of orgasm only to stop, he uncuffed her from the wall and told her to crawl to him. He knew the rub of her thighs as she crawled would only further add to her torture; it would feel good but wouldn’t be the right angle or pressure to let her come. Now, she has her impossibly soft lips wrapped around his cock, her skin sparkling with sweat as she suckles on the fat tip of his dick, her lips vibrating with each of her moans. Kya is one of the most beautiful subs Tommy has ever had, and stuff like this usually has Tommy hard as steel, but something feels off tonight. 

“Keep going, little slut,” he practically spits, trying to get himself there mentally. He closes his eyes and a flash of the brunette that told him off at the gala last week appears. Subtle curves, curious eyes, her matte red lips that he wants to smear his cum all over to make them glisten. His cock twitches at the thought, his hips flexing forward. He hears a gagging sound before he pulls his hips back, imagining that red lipstick staining his cock. 

“Look so fuckin’ pretty on your knees for me,” he whispers, a small giggle fills his ears before he pistons his hips forward and opens his eyes. Kya is absolutely stunning, there’s no reason he should have to fantasize about anything, or anyone, when he’s with her. So why is he fighting from closing his eyes and picturing you again?

Insanity, or witchcraft. He thinks to himself, trying to find a reason. Witchcraft, you’re an idiot, Tommy. Fuck, I must be going insane.

Tommy rocks his hips back and forth, and Kya is the perfect sub; hollowing her cheeks and letting the salvia fall from her lips, coating his cock as he fucks her mouth in slow, deep strokes. “Moan for me,” he commands, letting his lashes fall to his cheeks.

Kya moans, and there you are again. In this daydream, he has you on your back; one leg up on his shoulder, the other spread wide for him. He pushes in and out of your tight pussy a few times, watching your eyes go hooded before he sits up, kissing the ankle of the foot still propped on his shoulder. His eyes trail down your body; soft breasts bouncing with each thrust, his gaze burning a path down your stomach, landing to where his body meets yours. His mouth waters at the way your pussy glistens with need. It’s intoxicating and carnal, yet so soft and beautiful - he wants to taste you so badly. That’s when he shatters, opening his eyes to watch as his cum leaks from Kya’s mouth.

“Don’t swallow yet, filthy girl. Not until you show us,” he says through gritted teeth. The moment his orgasm is done he slides his cock free. He’s already soft, which is another thing that never happens to him.

Ya, I’ve slipped into insanity for sure!

“Open,” he commands. Kya opens her mouth and he leans forward and spits. With a nod towards the viewing window he says, “Show them.”

She turns her head towards the onlookers and he watches the way she squeezes her thighs together. This should be making Tommy absolutely feral, yet, it doesn’t. Staying in his dominant character, he grips his hand around her throat. “Eyes on me while you swallow, little cum princess.”

She plays her part equally well, keeping those dark brown eyes locked with his as she swallows, licks her lips and then swallows again. His dick doesn’t as much as budge; if anything, Tommy thinks it may have gotten smaller.

 Dude, what is wrong with you tonight? He says in his mind towards his cock.

“Thank you, sir,” Kya hums.

Tommy slides his thumb along her bottom lip gently, his voice softer now and just for her, “Can you get to the bed on your own while I close the curtain?”

She nods her head and smiles sweetly at him. He helps her stand and once he’s sure her legs are steady, he heads to the window. A few of the fellow exhibitionists give him a thumbs up before he shuts them out to do his aftercare in private with Kya. He pushes you out of his mind, focusing on getting some sugar into Kya and then pulls her into his arms. The two of them speak in quiet whispers as he checks in on her. 

“How are you feeling?”

She smiles up at him. “Really good. Thank you. I definitely needed this.”

“Good,” he says with a nod. “I have this room for a few hours so we can stay like this as long as you need. I need you to promise me you’ll call me if something changes, okay? I know what we did tonight can be a lot.”

“I promise,” she mutters, her eyelids getting heavy.

After a few more minutes of cuddling she pulls away from him and says she’s ready to go. Once they’re both dressed Tommy walks her out to the main area of the club, the two of them embrace in a tight hug before she leaves and he goes to his reserved booth. The second he’s alone he’s lost in thoughts of the girl from the gala. This isn’t the first time he’s been consumed by you, every quiet moment he has he finds himself thinking of you, of the things he should have said. Flirting and wooing women is easy for him, it always has been, but someone with quick wit and the ability to banter with him isn’t something that comes along often. 

That’s got to be what has me so turned around, he thinks to himself. It’s safer that she remains a fantasy, safer that I don’t know her name, safer that I can’t search for her and find out if she likes all of the things I do. 

[mountainsandmayhem-updates]

Chapter two drops tomorrow night 💕

Maid Discreetly - Chapter One

Tommy Miller x Female OC - 18+

Summary: After what he did to your best friend, fuck Joel Miller and the horse he rode in on! But a twist of fate has you falling for his brother, who is also your dad’s friend. Oh, and did you mention that you hate him? Can love really conquer all, or is this just kinky hot sex with an older man? TW: Reader is a fully described female character, the girl in the mood board is not just for vibes, that person will be described in detail. She's badass though, I wish I was her. Eventual smut and open door scenes featuring sub/dom dynamic. Tommy has a filthy mouth and she's a stubborn brat. The slowest of burns. Warnings for this chapter in small red below the cut. AN: First of all, thank you to everyone who made BDSMaid such a success. I expected 2 people to read it (@mermaidgirl30 and @littlevenicebitch69) but boy oh boy was I wrong! Thank you @for-a-longlongtime for encouraging me and letting me scream about these two and to @lotusbxtch for being in my corner always. I can't believe Joel Miller's fictional cock brought me so many life long friends xo WC: 3.2k

My Masterlist || Story Masterlist || Joel and Kim

CW: swearing; drinking alcohol; parents just being parents, ya know?; Tommy being a dick

You

It’s silly, and completely self indulgent, but the Greater Austin Business Awards has always been a highlight of your year. It’s an evening full of glitz and glamour, of delicious food cooked by Michelin Star chefs, and golden champagne chilled to perfection. Year after year it’s the perfect evening, your dad or Maid Discreetly usually taking home an award. This year though, it was your mom who was going to be honoured. Just like you, she works at Maid Discreetly, her title though is much more impressive than yours. Tonight, she will take home a beautiful glass plaque, etched with her name right below ‘CFO of the Year’. You didn’t think anything would make the night any more idyllic, and nothing could ruin the evening; that is, until you looked at the list of award winners. When your eyes drifted down the nominees another name caught your eye. Your stomach twisted as you read it over again. Listed amongst five other businesses nominated for their outstanding contributions to environmental impact was Joel Miller, JM Construction. 

Joel fucking Miller, you thought to yourself. The asshole who broke your best friend's heart almost one year ago was going to be in the same room as you. Not only did he break a girl that you thought was shatter proof, he ruined her chances of getting her law degree here, leaving her with no choice but to move to California. You knew the latter of the argument was dramatic; Kim always imagined herself going to Berkeley, but you missed your best friend and her bubbly, and sweet redheaded ways.

You: Voldemort is nominated for an award Kim: Who? You: I refuse to say his name Kim: LOL you’re so dramatic Kim: Don’t do anything to get you kicked out You: Just some light yelling then? Kim: He’s not worth it. I’m fine, and I’ll show him by becoming more successful than him You: You get me all hot when you talk like that! Miss you. Kim: Miss you too, facetime date soon? I gotta go, just getting to the office.

Kim didn’t not say that you couldn’t say anything, so technically you weren’t going against girl code by ripping Joel a new one - lightly, of course. Truthfully, even if she had forbidden it, it’s not in your nature to not defend your friends or family. Growing up you were always encouraged to speak your mind, and tomorrow night was going to be no different; you just have to get Laren to point Joel out to you. 

The next afternoon you meet your mom at the most expensive spa in downtown Austin. This is the aforementioned self indulgent part; your father giving you and your mom his black AMEX and letting you pamper yourselves, not to mention the brand new Chanel dress you bought for the event. You lay on the plush spa bed, your freshly exfoliated, waxed, massaged, and lotioned skin wrapped in a white robe that’s softer than anything you’ve ever felt. The room smells like mint and jasmine, the soothing music washing over you as the aesthetician applies all sorts of lotions to your face. For most, this would be a time to wholly relax, and while every muscle in your body feels heavy, your mind is racing with what exactly you want to say to Joel tonight.

‘Joel? You don’t know me, but I know you. How dare you do that to Kim.’

No, you think to yourself as steam hits your face to open your pores. I really gotta give it to him, make him realize what he fucked up. 

‘Are you Joel? How dare you treat the kindest person in the world that way. I curse the day you were born, fuck face.’ 

Whoa, too mean! You say to yourself. Speaking your mind is natural to you, but being outright mean was never your strong suit. Your last ex was outright awful to you, and where you weren’t afraid to tell him to “fuck all the way off” when he told you that breaking up with him was the dumbest thing you could do, you could never find it in you to attack his character. As if a light bulb goes off, it comes to you. Joel needs your company, not the other way around. 

‘Joel? I just wanted to let you know that if you ever speak to one of my maids again, I’ll have you removed as a client. Not that you care, but Kim’s fine, thriving really, no thanks to you. On behalf of her entire friend group, go fuck yourself. You’re a piece of shit.’

You smile to yourself as your facial comes to an end. The stuffy boomers that frequent these events might not appreciate the swearing, you’ll win them over with your smile and charm though if they overhear anything. As you pad down the hall to the hair stylist and makeup artist waiting for you and your mom, you solidify your plans; once Laren points him out, it’s on. Part of you hope’s he has a date with him, all women should know what kind of man he is.  

“Where’s Laren?” You ask as you and your mom sit at the posh white and gold table close to the stage a few hours later. The giant centerpiece composed of white roses, pearls and greenery in the middle is so tall that you can barely see the person sitting across from you, a string quartet plays from the corner of the space. The ballroom of the hotel has muted beige walls adorned with gold sconces that cast warm light upwards. The crystal chandeliers around the room are on, but kept dim. This could easily be someone’s wedding instead of a business gala.

The strap of your fitted midnight blue dress slips down your arm as you sit. Your mom places it back on your shoulder with one hand, the other holding her third glass of champagne since arriving twenty minutes ago, as she responds, “She’s not coming. Her and your aunt are sick.”

You slump back slightly in your chair, crossing your arms over your chest. This is going to be nearly impossible now. “Sit up straight, kiddo,” your dad says, his voice soft yet stern. 

“I’m almost twenty five,” you state as you straighten and grab your water glass, hoping the cold liquid will extinguish the rush of frustration that courses through you. Without Laren, none of this can happen. You have access to all of Joel Miller's information; his address, phone number, the credit card number the company charges for his cleaning services too. Everything except his identity. Maybe you could ask your dad to point him out? He would have been the one to get him to sign his contract. 

Your dad settles in the chair on the other side of your mom as you pull out your phone to try to google Joel again. Just as you open your web browser, your dad leans forward, his hand touches your wrist before he speaks. 

“You’ll always be a kid to me,” He says, smiling as your eyes meet his. You force a closed lipped smile back. 

And that right there is why asking your dad is out of the question - always a kid. Even though your business degree hangs on the wall of your office, your dad still sees you as that little girl who cried when he dropped you off at your first ballet lesson. You’ve been working for your dad for about eight years. He hired you at seventeen as a maid, and you’ve worked your way up to where you are now, leading the hiring and training departments, as well as coordinating schedules when clients need added services or maids fall sick. Recently, you took on supervising the procurement department, as well. You’re grateful for every promotion and extra task you’ve been given, but what you really want is to help with the client side of things, to start learning how to be your dad, you just aren’t sure he feels the same way.

You spend dinner glancing around the room, hoping to be able to figure out who Joel is. Truthfully, he could be anyone, this whole space is full of wealthy, handsome older men. You press your full, red stained lips together and excuse yourself from the table. Your nude Prada heels click along the floor as you make your way to the bathroom, and you strain your ears as you pass every table for any mention of Joel. After washing your hands you look at yourself in the mirror, smoothing the loose curls of your dark brunette hair that stop just below your shoulders. Your signature winged eyeliner could not have come out more perfect tonight, nor could your staple matte red lip. The clapping of the crowd has you hurrying back to your seat.

You sit on pins and needles as the awards begin, they’re intensified when pictures of each nominee light up the large screen at the back of the stage; win or lose, you’ll know exactly who Joel is now. Butterflies erupt in your stomach when Joel’s category is announced. Pictures of each of the nominees splash across the screen, but when JM Construction is announced it’s just their logo and when Joel doesn’t win you are right back at square one. You down a glass of champagne to wash down the acidic taste of disappointment that lines your mouth. You don’t think you’ve been this dispirited since Santa Claus didn’t bring you the Mia St Clair American Doll in 2008.

Your father presents the award to your mom, and after she dabs at fake tears with her napkin, she hauls you up on stage with her. You feel a cool breeze on the back of your thighs as you climb the stairs, the slit up the back of your pin skirt parting with each step up that you take. Unlike most people, you actually enjoy being in front of groups of people, and the depraved thought that you may have just shown almost all of Austin's most wealthy your ass on your way up the stairs has you fighting a devious smile.

As the awards end, the party begins. You don’t feel like drinking the free wine or champagne, so you head towards the bar. A group of four women meander ahead of you and the urge to push past them is tamed only by the mention of the one name you’ve been trying to catch all evening.

“Yes, same Joel Miller,” the one woman says quietly. “Her husband played poker with him. I heard they had topless waitresses!”

“Clubs like that don’t exist,” says another woman. 

You smile to yourself. You were one of those topless servers, and you know clubs like that definitely exist. You’re devastated for Kim, but so very jealous of what she got to experience at JMKink.

“I’d be divorcing him too, that’s disgusting.” That statement comes from a woman with yellow blonde hair and a cross necklace, you recognize her from an obscenely large family photo that used to hang in one of the homes you used to clean. You also remember her from that time you walked in one time on her and her husband having a threeway with the pool boy. 

The first woman speaks again, “Heathens. I don’t know how that’s legal! And worse, he’s here and getting nominated for awards.”

The fourth woman, who has been surprisingly quiet the entire time finally pipes up. “He is kind of handsome though.”

Her friends look at her like she just said she was going to marry Ted Bundy or something. “What?” She says defensively, “Obviously what he’s doing is gross, but he is a handsome man. I can see the appeal for young, impressionable women.”

“Trash doesn’t mix with class,” the yellow blonde woman, who was being taken to Paris when you walked in on them says.

You outright scoff at their insinuation that Kim was impressionable when really, women like them are the problem. Prudes and hypocrites 

The blonde woman spins to face you. “Do you have a problem?”

“Nope,” you smile at her as her eyes widen in recognition. “Feel like pointing out who this ‘trash’ is, or should I start pointing out ‘trash’, too?” You use air quotes around the word trash, never taking your eyes off her.

It's her turn to scoff now, rolling her eyes. You raise an eyebrow and cock your head at her, silently challenging her. You might not be quick with insults, but you have no issues calling her out, especially since she tried to get you fired, claiming she caught you with the pool boy. Thank god your dad saw right through that and she ended her contract at Maid Discreetly. The few heartbeats of heated silence are broken when she jerks her head towards the corner of the room. 

“Black suit and bowtie, leaning against the doorframe,” she says through gritted teeth.

You follow her gaze, eyes landing on Joel. Without another word you spin towards him and start to walk away from the women. This is it, your moment to tell Joel exactly how you feel. You hate that as you get closer you can see exactly why Kim fell in love with him. Tall and broad, with dark hair and eyes; you’re surprised to see she’d fall for a man with a mustache that full, but he pulls it off in the same way cowboys or Tom Selleck does.

You steel your face, repeating your pre-determined lecture in your mind over and over. The click of your heels draws Joel’s attention, and his eyes burn a trail from your toes to your eyes; him checking you out only pisses you off more. You stop in front of him, despising that even in three inch heels you have to crane your neck to meet his eyes. This man looks like the type that can show you a good time, really talk you through it, but before he can get a chance to try to charm you, you poke a perfectly manicured finger into his chest and speak.

“Joel? I just wanted to let you know that if ever speak to one of my maids again, I’ll have you removed as a client. Not that you care, but Kim’s fine, thriving really, no thanks to you. On behalf of her entire friend group, go fuck yourself. You’re a piece of shit.”

His hazel brown eyes dance around your face before he smirks.

This motherfucker!

Tommy

Tommy didn’t want to be here, so much so that he stood on the balcony sipping his bourbon as the awards were called. He only stepped inside when he heard the category Joel was nominated in being announced, and when someone else won he let out a relieved whoosh of air, spun around and went back outside. Every person in his room was just trying to prove who was wealthiest; Tommy probably wasn’t even in the top fifty in this room, where Joel easily would have been top five. That nagging voice in his head kept reminding him that he’ll always be in his older brother's shadow.

The awards wrapped up, and after waving down one of the girls handing out champagne and convincing her to bring him another bourbon, he leaned against the column by the door that led to the balcony. He was calculating his exit, as soon as the crowd around the bar cleared he was high tailing the fuck out of here. 

Before he even knew what was happening, a sharp fingernail jabbed into his sternum as he was getting yelled at. Now he really didn't want to be here, but fuck was this scrappy brunette in front of him pretty. So pretty that he blocked out most of the words that tumbled from her lips as he watched the flush spread across her cheeks and down her long, soft neck. He stopped himself from thinking just how low that blush went down her chest, even though the sweetheart neckline of her dress was like a beacon to her perky breasts. 

He likes a girl with a little fight in her, a girl with confidence and who is unafraid to be herself. This girl, who is currently telling him to go fuck himself, is all of that. Plus, she looks like she walked right out of a 1950’s film; almond shaped green eyes that slowly turn amber as they reach the pupils, full lips painted red, and her pin up style dress that bunches around her curves perfectly. The only thing bringing her into this decade is the slender gold septum ring that sits tight to her slightly upturned nose. 

He can’t help himself but to smirk when you finish chewing him out.

“You got the wrong guy,” he says, lowering his voice to a deep timber before adding a mischievous, “Sweetheart.”

 You step back and he immediately misses the warmth of your body close to his. “Oh…”

He should stop there, let her apologize and get out of here like he planned. Instead, he steps into your space, dropping his face close to yours and whispering. “I’m his brother,” before turning on his heels, stuffing his hands in his pockets and walking outside.

You shock the hell out of him when you say, “Well you can fuck yourself by proxy then!”

Again, he should stop, let it go, but goddamn he wants to see you all riled up and flustered. He turns back to you, his long legs eating up the distance he created in two strides. His dick revels in the little gasp that passes your lips at his sudden movements.

“You know, sweetheart,” his eyes stay locked with yours, “Your little tantrum would be a lot more believable if you weren’t undressing me with your eyes.” 

He watches as your jaw goes slack and your cheeks flush an adorable crimson. Were you actually just thinking about him naked, or did he just cross a line? Just in case it’s the latter, he prepares himself for the slap he rightfully deserves.

“What? I wasn’t…how do,” you sputter, trying to form a comeback. “You’re disgusting.”

He smiles again before he watches you spin on the balls of your feet. Perfectly manicured toes showing in the peep toe opening of your heels. The angel on his shoulder begs him to stop, but the devil on the other side tracks the way the slit on the back of your dress flashes the back of your olive tone upper thighs, already sun kissed by the exceptionally warm June Austin has been experiencing. 

He clears his throat and then calls after you, “I’m at table twelve if you want to see the real thing.”  

He watches the stutter in your step, hoping that you’ll come back and yell again. Instead, he keeps his eyes glued to your ass as you disappear into the crowd. Not until he can no longer see you does he turn around and go back outside.

[mountainsandmayhem-updates]

Maid Discreetly - Chapter One

Tommy Miller x Female OC - 18+

Summary: After what he did to your best friend, fuck Joel Miller and the horse he rode in on! But a twist of fate has you falling for his brother, who is also your dad’s friend. Oh, and did you mention that you hate him? Can love really conquer all, or is this just kinky hot sex with an older man? TW: Reader is a fully described female character, the girl in the mood board is not just for vibes, that person will be described in detail. She's badass though, I wish I was her. Eventual smut and open door scenes featuring sub/dom dynamic. Tommy has a filthy mouth and she's a stubborn brat. The slowest of burns. Warnings for this chapter in small red below the cut. AN: First of all, thank you to everyone who made BDSMaid such a success. I expected 2 people to read it (@mermaidgirl30 and @littlevenicebitch69) but boy oh boy was I wrong! Thank you @for-a-longlongtime for encouraging me and letting me scream about these two and to @lotusbxtch for being in my corner always. I can't believe Joel Miller's fictional cock brought me so many life long friends xo WC: 3.2k

My Masterlist || Story Masterlist || Joel and Kim

CW: swearing; drinking alcohol; parents just being parents, ya know?; Tommy being a dick

You

It’s silly, and completely self indulgent, but the Greater Austin Business Awards has always been a highlight of your year. It’s an evening full of glitz and glamour, of delicious food cooked by Michelin Star chefs, and golden champagne chilled to perfection. Year after year it’s the perfect evening, your dad or Maid Discreetly usually taking home an award. This year though, it was your mom who was going to be honoured. Just like you, she works at Maid Discreetly, her title though is much more impressive than yours. Tonight, she will take home a beautiful glass plaque, etched with her name right below ‘CFO of the Year’. You didn’t think anything would make the night any more idyllic, and nothing could ruin the evening; that is, until you looked at the list of award winners. When your eyes drifted down the nominees another name caught your eye. Your stomach twisted as you read it over again. Listed amongst five other businesses nominated for their outstanding contributions to environmental impact was Joel Miller, JM Construction. 

Joel fucking Miller, you thought to yourself. The asshole who broke your best friend's heart almost one year ago was going to be in the same room as you. Not only did he break a girl that you thought was shatter proof, he ruined her chances of getting her law degree here, leaving her with no choice but to move to California. You knew the latter of the argument was dramatic; Kim always imagined herself going to Berkeley, but you missed your best friend and her bubbly, and sweet redheaded ways.

You: Voldemort is nominated for an award Kim: Who? You: I refuse to say his name Kim: LOL you’re so dramatic Kim: Don’t do anything to get you kicked out You: Just some light yelling then? Kim: He’s not worth it. I’m fine, and I’ll show him by becoming more successful than him You: You get me all hot when you talk like that! Miss you. Kim: Miss you too, facetime date soon? I gotta go, just getting to the office.

Kim didn’t not say that you couldn’t say anything, so technically you weren’t going against girl code by ripping Joel a new one - lightly, of course. Truthfully, even if she had forbidden it, it’s not in your nature to not defend your friends or family. Growing up you were always encouraged to speak your mind, and tomorrow night was going to be no different; you just have to get Laren to point Joel out to you. 

The next afternoon you meet your mom at the most expensive spa in downtown Austin. This is the aforementioned self indulgent part; your father giving you and your mom his black AMEX and letting you pamper yourselves, not to mention the brand new Chanel dress you bought for the event. You lay on the plush spa bed, your freshly exfoliated, waxed, massaged, and lotioned skin wrapped in a white robe that’s softer than anything you’ve ever felt. The room smells like mint and jasmine, the soothing music washing over you as the aesthetician applies all sorts of lotions to your face. For most, this would be a time to wholly relax, and while every muscle in your body feels heavy, your mind is racing with what exactly you want to say to Joel tonight.

‘Joel? You don’t know me, but I know you. How dare you do that to Kim.’

No, you think to yourself as steam hits your face to open your pores. I really gotta give it to him, make him realize what he fucked up. 

‘Are you Joel? How dare you treat the kindest person in the world that way. I curse the day you were born, fuck face.’ 

Whoa, too mean! You say to yourself. Speaking your mind is natural to you, but being outright mean was never your strong suit. Your last ex was outright awful to you, and where you weren’t afraid to tell him to “fuck all the way off” when he told you that breaking up with him was the dumbest thing you could do, you could never find it in you to attack his character. As if a light bulb goes off, it comes to you. Joel needs your company, not the other way around. 

‘Joel? I just wanted to let you know that if you ever speak to one of my maids again, I’ll have you removed as a client. Not that you care, but Kim’s fine, thriving really, no thanks to you. On behalf of her entire friend group, go fuck yourself. You’re a piece of shit.’

You smile to yourself as your facial comes to an end. The stuffy boomers that frequent these events might not appreciate the swearing, you’ll win them over with your smile and charm though if they overhear anything. As you pad down the hall to the hair stylist and makeup artist waiting for you and your mom, you solidify your plans; once Laren points him out, it’s on. Part of you hope’s he has a date with him, all women should know what kind of man he is.  

“Where’s Laren?” You ask as you and your mom sit at the posh white and gold table close to the stage a few hours later. The giant centerpiece composed of white roses, pearls and greenery in the middle is so tall that you can barely see the person sitting across from you, a string quartet plays from the corner of the space. The ballroom of the hotel has muted beige walls adorned with gold sconces that cast warm light upwards. The crystal chandeliers around the room are on, but kept dim. This could easily be someone’s wedding instead of a business gala.

The strap of your fitted midnight blue dress slips down your arm as you sit. Your mom places it back on your shoulder with one hand, the other holding her third glass of champagne since arriving twenty minutes ago, as she responds, “She’s not coming. Her and your aunt are sick.”

You slump back slightly in your chair, crossing your arms over your chest. This is going to be nearly impossible now. “Sit up straight, kiddo,” your dad says, his voice soft yet stern. 

“I’m almost twenty five,” you state as you straighten and grab your water glass, hoping the cold liquid will extinguish the rush of frustration that courses through you. Without Laren, none of this can happen. You have access to all of Joel Miller's information; his address, phone number, the credit card number the company charges for his cleaning services too. Everything except his identity. Maybe you could ask your dad to point him out? He would have been the one to get him to sign his contract. 

Your dad settles in the chair on the other side of your mom as you pull out your phone to try to google Joel again. Just as you open your web browser, your dad leans forward, his hand touches your wrist before he speaks. 

“You’ll always be a kid to me,” He says, smiling as your eyes meet his. You force a closed lipped smile back. 

And that right there is why asking your dad is out of the question - always a kid. Even though your business degree hangs on the wall of your office, your dad still sees you as that little girl who cried when he dropped you off at your first ballet lesson. You’ve been working for your dad for about eight years. He hired you at seventeen as a maid, and you’ve worked your way up to where you are now, leading the hiring and training departments, as well as coordinating schedules when clients need added services or maids fall sick. Recently, you took on supervising the procurement department, as well. You’re grateful for every promotion and extra task you’ve been given, but what you really want is to help with the client side of things, to start learning how to be your dad, you just aren’t sure he feels the same way.

You spend dinner glancing around the room, hoping to be able to figure out who Joel is. Truthfully, he could be anyone, this whole space is full of wealthy, handsome older men. You press your full, red stained lips together and excuse yourself from the table. Your nude Prada heels click along the floor as you make your way to the bathroom, and you strain your ears as you pass every table for any mention of Joel. After washing your hands you look at yourself in the mirror, smoothing the loose curls of your dark brunette hair that stop just below your shoulders. Your signature winged eyeliner could not have come out more perfect tonight, nor could your staple matte red lip. The clapping of the crowd has you hurrying back to your seat.

You sit on pins and needles as the awards begin, they’re intensified when pictures of each nominee light up the large screen at the back of the stage; win or lose, you’ll know exactly who Joel is now. Butterflies erupt in your stomach when Joel’s category is announced. Pictures of each of the nominees splash across the screen, but when JM Construction is announced it’s just their logo and when Joel doesn’t win you are right back at square one. You down a glass of champagne to wash down the acidic taste of disappointment that lines your mouth. You don’t think you’ve been this dispirited since Santa Claus didn’t bring you the Mia St Clair American Doll in 2008.

Your father presents the award to your mom, and after she dabs at fake tears with her napkin, she hauls you up on stage with her. You feel a cool breeze on the back of your thighs as you climb the stairs, the slit up the back of your pin skirt parting with each step up that you take. Unlike most people, you actually enjoy being in front of groups of people, and the depraved thought that you may have just shown almost all of Austin's most wealthy your ass on your way up the stairs has you fighting a devious smile.

As the awards end, the party begins. You don’t feel like drinking the free wine or champagne, so you head towards the bar. A group of four women meander ahead of you and the urge to push past them is tamed only by the mention of the one name you’ve been trying to catch all evening.

“Yes, same Joel Miller,” the one woman says quietly. “Her husband played poker with him. I heard they had topless waitresses!”

“Clubs like that don’t exist,” says another woman. 

You smile to yourself. You were one of those topless servers, and you know clubs like that definitely exist. You’re devastated for Kim, but so very jealous of what she got to experience at JMKink.

“I’d be divorcing him too, that’s disgusting.” That statement comes from a woman with yellow blonde hair and a cross necklace, you recognize her from an obscenely large family photo that used to hang in one of the homes you used to clean. You also remember her from that time you walked in one time on her and her husband having a threeway with the pool boy. 

The first woman speaks again, “Heathens. I don’t know how that’s legal! And worse, he’s here and getting nominated for awards.”

The fourth woman, who has been surprisingly quiet the entire time finally pipes up. “He is kind of handsome though.”

Her friends look at her like she just said she was going to marry Ted Bundy or something. “What?” She says defensively, “Obviously what he’s doing is gross, but he is a handsome man. I can see the appeal for young, impressionable women.”

“Trash doesn’t mix with class,” the yellow blonde woman, who was being taken to Paris when you walked in on them says.

You outright scoff at their insinuation that Kim was impressionable when really, women like them are the problem. Prudes and hypocrites 

The blonde woman spins to face you. “Do you have a problem?”

“Nope,” you smile at her as her eyes widen in recognition. “Feel like pointing out who this ‘trash’ is, or should I start pointing out ‘trash’, too?” You use air quotes around the word trash, never taking your eyes off her.

It's her turn to scoff now, rolling her eyes. You raise an eyebrow and cock your head at her, silently challenging her. You might not be quick with insults, but you have no issues calling her out, especially since she tried to get you fired, claiming she caught you with the pool boy. Thank god your dad saw right through that and she ended her contract at Maid Discreetly. The few heartbeats of heated silence are broken when she jerks her head towards the corner of the room. 

“Black suit and bowtie, leaning against the doorframe,” she says through gritted teeth.

You follow her gaze, eyes landing on Joel. Without another word you spin towards him and start to walk away from the women. This is it, your moment to tell Joel exactly how you feel. You hate that as you get closer you can see exactly why Kim fell in love with him. Tall and broad, with dark hair and eyes; you’re surprised to see she’d fall for a man with a mustache that full, but he pulls it off in the same way cowboys or Tom Selleck does.

You steel your face, repeating your pre-determined lecture in your mind over and over. The click of your heels draws Joel’s attention, and his eyes burn a trail from your toes to your eyes; him checking you out only pisses you off more. You stop in front of him, despising that even in three inch heels you have to crane your neck to meet his eyes. This man looks like the type that can show you a good time, really talk you through it, but before he can get a chance to try to charm you, you poke a perfectly manicured finger into his chest and speak.

“Joel? I just wanted to let you know that if ever speak to one of my maids again, I’ll have you removed as a client. Not that you care, but Kim’s fine, thriving really, no thanks to you. On behalf of her entire friend group, go fuck yourself. You’re a piece of shit.”

His hazel brown eyes dance around your face before he smirks.

This motherfucker!

Tommy

Tommy didn’t want to be here, so much so that he stood on the balcony sipping his bourbon as the awards were called. He only stepped inside when he heard the category Joel was nominated in being announced, and when someone else won he let out a relieved whoosh of air, spun around and went back outside. Every person in his room was just trying to prove who was wealthiest; Tommy probably wasn’t even in the top fifty in this room, where Joel easily would have been top five. That nagging voice in his head kept reminding him that he’ll always be in his older brother's shadow.

The awards wrapped up, and after waving down one of the girls handing out champagne and convincing her to bring him another bourbon, he leaned against the column by the door that led to the balcony. He was calculating his exit, as soon as the crowd around the bar cleared he was high tailing the fuck out of here. 

Before he even knew what was happening, a sharp fingernail jabbed into his sternum as he was getting yelled at. Now he really didn't want to be here, but fuck was this scrappy brunette in front of him pretty. So pretty that he blocked out most of the words that tumbled from her lips as he watched the flush spread across her cheeks and down her long, soft neck. He stopped himself from thinking just how low that blush went down her chest, even though the sweetheart neckline of her dress was like a beacon to her perky breasts. 

He likes a girl with a little fight in her, a girl with confidence and who is unafraid to be herself. This girl, who is currently telling him to go fuck himself, is all of that. Plus, she looks like she walked right out of a 1950’s film; almond shaped green eyes that slowly turn amber as they reach the pupils, full lips painted red, and her pin up style dress that bunches around her curves perfectly. The only thing bringing her into this decade is the slender gold septum ring that sits tight to her slightly upturned nose. 

He can’t help himself but to smirk when you finish chewing him out.

“You got the wrong guy,” he says, lowering his voice to a deep timber before adding a mischievous, “Sweetheart.”

 You step back and he immediately misses the warmth of your body close to his. “Oh…”

He should stop there, let her apologize and get out of here like he planned. Instead, he steps into your space, dropping his face close to yours and whispering. “I’m his brother,” before turning on his heels, stuffing his hands in his pockets and walking outside.

You shock the hell out of him when you say, “Well you can fuck yourself by proxy then!”

Again, he should stop, let it go, but goddamn he wants to see you all riled up and flustered. He turns back to you, his long legs eating up the distance he created in two strides. His dick revels in the little gasp that passes your lips at his sudden movements.

“You know, sweetheart,” his eyes stay locked with yours, “Your little tantrum would be a lot more believable if you weren’t undressing me with your eyes.” 

He watches as your jaw goes slack and your cheeks flush an adorable crimson. Were you actually just thinking about him naked, or did he just cross a line? Just in case it’s the latter, he prepares himself for the slap he rightfully deserves.

“What? I wasn’t…how do,” you sputter, trying to form a comeback. “You’re disgusting.”

He smiles again before he watches you spin on the balls of your feet. Perfectly manicured toes showing in the peep toe opening of your heels. The angel on his shoulder begs him to stop, but the devil on the other side tracks the way the slit on the back of your dress flashes the back of your olive tone upper thighs, already sun kissed by the exceptionally warm June Austin has been experiencing. 

He clears his throat and then calls after you, “I’m at table twelve if you want to see the real thing.”  

He watches the stutter in your step, hoping that you’ll come back and yell again. Instead, he keeps his eyes glued to your ass as you disappear into the crowd. Not until he can no longer see you does he turn around and go back outside.

[mountainsandmayhem-updates]

Maid Discreetly - Chapter One

Tommy Miller x Female OC - 18+

Summary: After what he did to your best friend, fuck Joel Miller and the horse he rode in on! But a twist of fate has you falling for his brother, who is also your dad’s friend. Oh, and did you mention that you hate him? Can love really conquer all, or is this just kinky hot sex with an older man? TW: Reader is a fully described female character, the girl in the mood board is not just for vibes, that person will be described in detail. She's badass though, I wish I was her. Eventual smut and open door scenes featuring sub/dom dynamic. Tommy has a filthy mouth and she's a stubborn brat. The slowest of burns. Warnings for this chapter in small red below the cut. AN: First of all, thank you to everyone who made BDSMaid such a success. I expected 2 people to read it (@mermaidgirl30 and @littlevenicebitch69) but boy oh boy was I wrong! Thank you @for-a-longlongtime for encouraging me and letting me scream about these two and to @lotusbxtch for being in my corner always. I can't believe Joel Miller's fictional cock brought me so many life long friends xo WC: 3.2k

My Masterlist || Story Masterlist || Joel and Kim

CW: swearing; drinking alcohol; parents just being parents, ya know?; Tommy being a dick

You

It’s silly, and completely self indulgent, but the Greater Austin Business Awards has always been a highlight of your year. It’s an evening full of glitz and glamour, of delicious food cooked by Michelin Star chefs, and golden champagne chilled to perfection. Year after year it’s the perfect evening, your dad or Maid Discreetly usually taking home an award. This year though, it was your mom who was going to be honoured. Just like you, she works at Maid Discreetly, her title though is much more impressive than yours. Tonight, she will take home a beautiful glass plaque, etched with her name right below ‘CFO of the Year’. You didn’t think anything would make the night any more idyllic, and nothing could ruin the evening; that is, until you looked at the list of award winners. When your eyes drifted down the nominees another name caught your eye. Your stomach twisted as you read it over again. Listed amongst five other businesses nominated for their outstanding contributions to environmental impact was Joel Miller, JM Construction. 

Joel fucking Miller, you thought to yourself. The asshole who broke your best friend's heart almost one year ago was going to be in the same room as you. Not only did he break a girl that you thought was shatter proof, he ruined her chances of getting her law degree here, leaving her with no choice but to move to California. You knew the latter of the argument was dramatic; Kim always imagined herself going to Berkeley, but you missed your best friend and her bubbly, and sweet redheaded ways.

You: Voldemort is nominated for an award Kim: Who? You: I refuse to say his name Kim: LOL you’re so dramatic Kim: Don’t do anything to get you kicked out You: Just some light yelling then? Kim: He’s not worth it. I’m fine, and I’ll show him by becoming more successful than him You: You get me all hot when you talk like that! Miss you. Kim: Miss you too, facetime date soon? I gotta go, just getting to the office.

Kim didn’t not say that you couldn’t say anything, so technically you weren’t going against girl code by ripping Joel a new one - lightly, of course. Truthfully, even if she had forbidden it, it’s not in your nature to not defend your friends or family. Growing up you were always encouraged to speak your mind, and tomorrow night was going to be no different; you just have to get Laren to point Joel out to you. 

The next afternoon you meet your mom at the most expensive spa in downtown Austin. This is the aforementioned self indulgent part; your father giving you and your mom his black AMEX and letting you pamper yourselves, not to mention the brand new Chanel dress you bought for the event. You lay on the plush spa bed, your freshly exfoliated, waxed, massaged, and lotioned skin wrapped in a white robe that’s softer than anything you’ve ever felt. The room smells like mint and jasmine, the soothing music washing over you as the aesthetician applies all sorts of lotions to your face. For most, this would be a time to wholly relax, and while every muscle in your body feels heavy, your mind is racing with what exactly you want to say to Joel tonight.

‘Joel? You don’t know me, but I know you. How dare you do that to Kim.’

No, you think to yourself as steam hits your face to open your pores. I really gotta give it to him, make him realize what he fucked up. 

‘Are you Joel? How dare you treat the kindest person in the world that way. I curse the day you were born, fuck face.’ 

Whoa, too mean! You say to yourself. Speaking your mind is natural to you, but being outright mean was never your strong suit. Your last ex was outright awful to you, and where you weren’t afraid to tell him to “fuck all the way off” when he told you that breaking up with him was the dumbest thing you could do, you could never find it in you to attack his character. As if a light bulb goes off, it comes to you. Joel needs your company, not the other way around. 

‘Joel? I just wanted to let you know that if you ever speak to one of my maids again, I’ll have you removed as a client. Not that you care, but Kim’s fine, thriving really, no thanks to you. On behalf of her entire friend group, go fuck yourself. You’re a piece of shit.’

You smile to yourself as your facial comes to an end. The stuffy boomers that frequent these events might not appreciate the swearing, you’ll win them over with your smile and charm though if they overhear anything. As you pad down the hall to the hair stylist and makeup artist waiting for you and your mom, you solidify your plans; once Laren points him out, it’s on. Part of you hope’s he has a date with him, all women should know what kind of man he is.  

“Where’s Laren?” You ask as you and your mom sit at the posh white and gold table close to the stage a few hours later. The giant centerpiece composed of white roses, pearls and greenery in the middle is so tall that you can barely see the person sitting across from you, a string quartet plays from the corner of the space. The ballroom of the hotel has muted beige walls adorned with gold sconces that cast warm light upwards. The crystal chandeliers around the room are on, but kept dim. This could easily be someone’s wedding instead of a business gala.

The strap of your fitted midnight blue dress slips down your arm as you sit. Your mom places it back on your shoulder with one hand, the other holding her third glass of champagne since arriving twenty minutes ago, as she responds, “She’s not coming. Her and your aunt are sick.”

You slump back slightly in your chair, crossing your arms over your chest. This is going to be nearly impossible now. “Sit up straight, kiddo,” your dad says, his voice soft yet stern. 

“I’m almost twenty five,” you state as you straighten and grab your water glass, hoping the cold liquid will extinguish the rush of frustration that courses through you. Without Laren, none of this can happen. You have access to all of Joel Miller's information; his address, phone number, the credit card number the company charges for his cleaning services too. Everything except his identity. Maybe you could ask your dad to point him out? He would have been the one to get him to sign his contract. 

Your dad settles in the chair on the other side of your mom as you pull out your phone to try to google Joel again. Just as you open your web browser, your dad leans forward, his hand touches your wrist before he speaks. 

“You’ll always be a kid to me,” He says, smiling as your eyes meet his. You force a closed lipped smile back. 

And that right there is why asking your dad is out of the question - always a kid. Even though your business degree hangs on the wall of your office, your dad still sees you as that little girl who cried when he dropped you off at your first ballet lesson. You’ve been working for your dad for about eight years. He hired you at seventeen as a maid, and you’ve worked your way up to where you are now, leading the hiring and training departments, as well as coordinating schedules when clients need added services or maids fall sick. Recently, you took on supervising the procurement department, as well. You’re grateful for every promotion and extra task you’ve been given, but what you really want is to help with the client side of things, to start learning how to be your dad, you just aren’t sure he feels the same way.

You spend dinner glancing around the room, hoping to be able to figure out who Joel is. Truthfully, he could be anyone, this whole space is full of wealthy, handsome older men. You press your full, red stained lips together and excuse yourself from the table. Your nude Prada heels click along the floor as you make your way to the bathroom, and you strain your ears as you pass every table for any mention of Joel. After washing your hands you look at yourself in the mirror, smoothing the loose curls of your dark brunette hair that stop just below your shoulders. Your signature winged eyeliner could not have come out more perfect tonight, nor could your staple matte red lip. The clapping of the crowd has you hurrying back to your seat.

You sit on pins and needles as the awards begin, they’re intensified when pictures of each nominee light up the large screen at the back of the stage; win or lose, you’ll know exactly who Joel is now. Butterflies erupt in your stomach when Joel’s category is announced. Pictures of each of the nominees splash across the screen, but when JM Construction is announced it’s just their logo and when Joel doesn’t win you are right back at square one. You down a glass of champagne to wash down the acidic taste of disappointment that lines your mouth. You don’t think you’ve been this dispirited since Santa Claus didn’t bring you the Mia St Clair American Doll in 2008.

Your father presents the award to your mom, and after she dabs at fake tears with her napkin, she hauls you up on stage with her. You feel a cool breeze on the back of your thighs as you climb the stairs, the slit up the back of your pin skirt parting with each step up that you take. Unlike most people, you actually enjoy being in front of groups of people, and the depraved thought that you may have just shown almost all of Austin's most wealthy your ass on your way up the stairs has you fighting a devious smile.

As the awards end, the party begins. You don’t feel like drinking the free wine or champagne, so you head towards the bar. A group of four women meander ahead of you and the urge to push past them is tamed only by the mention of the one name you’ve been trying to catch all evening.

“Yes, same Joel Miller,” the one woman says quietly. “Her husband played poker with him. I heard they had topless waitresses!”

“Clubs like that don’t exist,” says another woman. 

You smile to yourself. You were one of those topless servers, and you know clubs like that definitely exist. You’re devastated for Kim, but so very jealous of what she got to experience at JMKink.

“I’d be divorcing him too, that’s disgusting.” That statement comes from a woman with yellow blonde hair and a cross necklace, you recognize her from an obscenely large family photo that used to hang in one of the homes you used to clean. You also remember her from that time you walked in one time on her and her husband having a threeway with the pool boy. 

The first woman speaks again, “Heathens. I don’t know how that’s legal! And worse, he’s here and getting nominated for awards.”

The fourth woman, who has been surprisingly quiet the entire time finally pipes up. “He is kind of handsome though.”

Her friends look at her like she just said she was going to marry Ted Bundy or something. “What?” She says defensively, “Obviously what he’s doing is gross, but he is a handsome man. I can see the appeal for young, impressionable women.”

“Trash doesn’t mix with class,” the yellow blonde woman, who was being taken to Paris when you walked in on them says.

You outright scoff at their insinuation that Kim was impressionable when really, women like them are the problem. Prudes and hypocrites 

The blonde woman spins to face you. “Do you have a problem?”

“Nope,” you smile at her as her eyes widen in recognition. “Feel like pointing out who this ‘trash’ is, or should I start pointing out ‘trash’, too?” You use air quotes around the word trash, never taking your eyes off her.

It's her turn to scoff now, rolling her eyes. You raise an eyebrow and cock your head at her, silently challenging her. You might not be quick with insults, but you have no issues calling her out, especially since she tried to get you fired, claiming she caught you with the pool boy. Thank god your dad saw right through that and she ended her contract at Maid Discreetly. The few heartbeats of heated silence are broken when she jerks her head towards the corner of the room. 

“Black suit and bowtie, leaning against the doorframe,” she says through gritted teeth.

You follow her gaze, eyes landing on Joel. Without another word you spin towards him and start to walk away from the women. This is it, your moment to tell Joel exactly how you feel. You hate that as you get closer you can see exactly why Kim fell in love with him. Tall and broad, with dark hair and eyes; you’re surprised to see she’d fall for a man with a mustache that full, but he pulls it off in the same way cowboys or Tom Selleck does.

You steel your face, repeating your pre-determined lecture in your mind over and over. The click of your heels draws Joel’s attention, and his eyes burn a trail from your toes to your eyes; him checking you out only pisses you off more. You stop in front of him, despising that even in three inch heels you have to crane your neck to meet his eyes. This man looks like the type that can show you a good time, really talk you through it, but before he can get a chance to try to charm you, you poke a perfectly manicured finger into his chest and speak.

“Joel? I just wanted to let you know that if ever speak to one of my maids again, I’ll have you removed as a client. Not that you care, but Kim’s fine, thriving really, no thanks to you. On behalf of her entire friend group, go fuck yourself. You’re a piece of shit.”

His hazel brown eyes dance around your face before he smirks.

This motherfucker!

Tommy

Tommy didn’t want to be here, so much so that he stood on the balcony sipping his bourbon as the awards were called. He only stepped inside when he heard the category Joel was nominated in being announced, and when someone else won he let out a relieved whoosh of air, spun around and went back outside. Every person in his room was just trying to prove who was wealthiest; Tommy probably wasn’t even in the top fifty in this room, where Joel easily would have been top five. That nagging voice in his head kept reminding him that he’ll always be in his older brother's shadow.

The awards wrapped up, and after waving down one of the girls handing out champagne and convincing her to bring him another bourbon, he leaned against the column by the door that led to the balcony. He was calculating his exit, as soon as the crowd around the bar cleared he was high tailing the fuck out of here. 

Before he even knew what was happening, a sharp fingernail jabbed into his sternum as he was getting yelled at. Now he really didn't want to be here, but fuck was this scrappy brunette in front of him pretty. So pretty that he blocked out most of the words that tumbled from her lips as he watched the flush spread across her cheeks and down her long, soft neck. He stopped himself from thinking just how low that blush went down her chest, even though the sweetheart neckline of her dress was like a beacon to her perky breasts. 

He likes a girl with a little fight in her, a girl with confidence and who is unafraid to be herself. This girl, who is currently telling him to go fuck himself, is all of that. Plus, she looks like she walked right out of a 1950’s film; almond shaped green eyes that slowly turn amber as they reach the pupils, full lips painted red, and her pin up style dress that bunches around her curves perfectly. The only thing bringing her into this decade is the slender gold septum ring that sits tight to her slightly upturned nose. 

He can’t help himself but to smirk when you finish chewing him out.

“You got the wrong guy,” he says, lowering his voice to a deep timber before adding a mischievous, “Sweetheart.”

 You step back and he immediately misses the warmth of your body close to his. “Oh…”

He should stop there, let her apologize and get out of here like he planned. Instead, he steps into your space, dropping his face close to yours and whispering. “I’m his brother,” before turning on his heels, stuffing his hands in his pockets and walking outside.

You shock the hell out of him when you say, “Well you can fuck yourself by proxy then!”

Again, he should stop, let it go, but goddamn he wants to see you all riled up and flustered. He turns back to you, his long legs eating up the distance he created in two strides. His dick revels in the little gasp that passes your lips at his sudden movements.

“You know, sweetheart,” his eyes stay locked with yours, “Your little tantrum would be a lot more believable if you weren’t undressing me with your eyes.” 

He watches as your jaw goes slack and your cheeks flush an adorable crimson. Were you actually just thinking about him naked, or did he just cross a line? Just in case it’s the latter, he prepares himself for the slap he rightfully deserves.

“What? I wasn’t…how do,” you sputter, trying to form a comeback. “You’re disgusting.”

He smiles again before he watches you spin on the balls of your feet. Perfectly manicured toes showing in the peep toe opening of your heels. The angel on his shoulder begs him to stop, but the devil on the other side tracks the way the slit on the back of your dress flashes the back of your olive tone upper thighs, already sun kissed by the exceptionally warm June Austin has been experiencing. 

He clears his throat and then calls after you, “I’m at table twelve if you want to see the real thing.”  

He watches the stutter in your step, hoping that you’ll come back and yell again. Instead, he keeps his eyes glued to your ass as you disappear into the crowd. Not until he can no longer see you does he turn around and go back outside.

[mountainsandmayhem-updates]

Chapter should be posted in about an hour 💕

Maid Discreetly

Tommy Miller x Female OC

18+ || The BDSMaid Series

Summary: After what he did to your best friend, fuck Joel Miller and the horse he rode in on! But a twist of fate has you falling for his brother, who is also your dad’s friend. Oh, and did you mention that you hate him? Can love really conquer all, or should you just settle for kinky hot sex with an older man?

TW: age gap, open door romance scenes involving aspects of BDSM, sub/dom dynamics, fully described female OC. Similar to BDSMaid, TW will be below the cut in small, red lettering to avoid spoilers to those who care.

Chapter 1 - April 14

Chapter 2 - April 28

Chapter 3 - May 12

Chapter 4 - May 26

Chapter 5 - June 9

Chapter 6 - June 23

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Epilogue

Chapter dates not listed are TBD, chapter numbers and dates are all subject to change

[mountainsandmayhem-updates]

Tess's Treasures

18+, MDNI

Pairing: Tess x Joel x OC!Female x Female!Reader Summary: After perfecting the art of pickpocketing, you’re invited to join Tess’s Treasures. They’re infamous around the QZ and the initiation process is not what you expect, but exactly what you need. CW: If you’re not into foursomes/bi girl shit then you are in the wrong place. MFFF, bisexual females, fingering, masturbating, oral, dirty talk, praise kink, degradation kink. Unprotected p in v. Overstim and squirting. Please read this at your discretion. If this isn’t for you, that’s perfectly fine. AN: You can thank @mermaidgirl30 and @littlevenicebitch69 for being good little girls and filling my mind with depraved and twisted thoughts. This fic has truly been a labour of love, taking me almost 6 weeks to put together and edit. I'm not the least bit sorry about the word count, grab a snack, probably some electrolytes and maybe some spare batteries lol. Special shoutouts to @pedritoferg for their kind words when my imposter syndrome had the best of me. As always, dividers and support banners by @saradika-graphics. Friendly reminder that I'm phasing out my tag list, follow @mountainsandmayhem-updates for new fics.

Word Count: 9005

Becoming one of Tess’s Treasures seemed like a fallacy, a pipe dream. A fairytale life only reserved for the most vicious females that prowl the shady streets of the Boston QZ, and you aren’t a killer. A thief, yes; but not a killer. Truthfully, you weren’t even sure if the organization existed. Sure, Tess was a real person, but did she actually have a horde of women she called her Treasures? 

She was infamous in the seedy underbelly of Boston, her and her henchman Joel. Granted, no one ever seemed to see Joel, unless he was about to kill you. And sometimes not even then, he was often hiding in the shadows, shadows darker than the demons that allegedly haunted him.

Outbreak day happened when you were just little, you don’t remember much of the journey from your old hometown to Boston. Everyone here is poor, doing what they can to get credits to buy basic human needs; making trades and swaps were what most people did. You, however, were much more clever. After discovering a book detailing the art of sleight of hand you started practicing, and now you can take anything, right in front of someone's eyes, without them noticing. 

Or so you thought. After stealing a pistol from a FEDRA officer and replacing it with a banana, all while having a conversation with him in broad daylight, Tess approaches you.

“Come to my apartment next week. I wanna see if you have what it takes. Mum’s the word.” It’s a hushed whisper as she passes you, slipping a small card in your back pocket as she goes. 

You follow the cards' instructions, arriving at the exact time, going up to the top floor and then doing two quick, sharp knocks on the worn out door.

“Enter,” Tess says from inside. The door creaks on your way in. It’s the hottest day Boston has seen in years, and even in your small sundress, the room is stifling hot. The air is thick with the smell of gunpowder and something else that you can’t quite put your finger on. There’s a fan oscillating in the corner, the paint chipped off the cage that protects the blades. As it blows warm air past you, you realize that the other smell is sex. 

Tess is sitting on the couch to the right of the door, two mismatched wooden kitchen chairs in front of her. Straight ahead from the door is a small kitchen, and to the back left of the studio style apartment is the bed. Unmade, sheets tousled like someone just woke up, but based on the heady taste of the air in the room, the messy sheets are definitely from two people rolling around in them.

“Come sit,” Tess says firmly. You click the door shut behind you and head to the empty chair that’s waiting for you. The other chair is occupied by a small brunette woman. She has long slender limbs and doesn’t look like someone who would hang out with raiders, poachers and drug runners. Her hands are folded in her lap, ankles crossed under the chair. She doesn’t look over at you.

Tess leans forward, spreading her denim clad legs wide and resting her elbows on her knees. “Do you two know who I am?”

You both nod slowly. Up close, Tess is terrifying. She could have you killed with just a snap of her fingers, and Joel would do it however she wanted. From what you’ve heard, very slowly was her favourite way to have people eliminated from this earth. Quick deaths weren’t something she enjoyed when someone had fucked her over. 

“Speak!” she commands. The brunette jumps and even though you’ve mastered the art of pushing your fears down and masking your emotions, a small butterfly flaps its wings behind your navel. 

“Yes,” you say hoarsely as a meek ‘yes ma’am’ sounds beside you.

“Good. So then you know the….perks of being one of my Treasures,” Tess’s eyes twinkle as she says perks like she knows something you don’t. Like it’s more than the better living arrangements, food and medical care. Better than a sense of family and belonging.

She continues, “I’ve seen both of you at work. You,” her steel grey eyes are laser focused on yours, “With your quick hands, and you,” she adjusts her attention to the petite woman beside you, “With your ability to talk a man into almost anything. Before you can officially call yourself my Treasures, there’s a small matter of your…” Her voice trails, mouth ticking up on one side as she cocks her head and drags her eyes across both of your bodies.

“Well, your initiation.” She leans back onto the couch, knees falling wider. One arm drapes across the back, the worn cushion deflating slightly. The other rests on her thick, toned thigh. “I take care of my girls, but they need to show me that they can listen.”

The air seems thicker, and harder to fill your lungs with. Every move of her eyes is suggestive. Is she saying what you think she’s saying? You feel yourself begin to soak through your panties at the possibility of getting to fuck.

You aren’t left wondering for long as she points a long finger at the girl beside you, “Stand up, take off your clothes.”

“W-what?” the girl sputters. 

“I said to stand up and take off your fucking clothes,” the words almost seem to burn as she repeats herself. 

The girl stands so quickly that the chair falls, making a loud crash against the worn hardwood flooring. She stares at Tess for a moment, unsure if she should pick up the chair before she decides against it and pulls her blue cotton baby tee off, revealing a lacy white bra underneath. 

“That’s it,” Tess groans. “Take off those little shorts next.”

With shaky hands she moves to the button fly, each drag of the metal on denim seems to echo in the silent room. Tess licks her lips as she slides her shorts down her legs and kicks them to the side. “Come here,” Tess says, her voice already husky and deep. The woman walks over to Tess, stopping between her spread legs. Tess’s strong fingers grip the girl's hips and she gasps. “Turn around,” she urges, dragging her fingers along her hips as the mystery girl spins.

“What’s your name?” Tess asks. The girl's bright green eyes land on you and you see her breath hitch in her slender throat. She’s petite, probably a few inches shorter than you and at least a foot shorter than Tess. You’ve always been attracted to both men and women and there’s no denying that this little stranger is absolutely stunning. 

“Lydia,” she croaks.

“Are you nervous, Lydia?” Tess asks, cupping the globes of her ass in her hands, kneading and squeezing. Spreading them gently, exploring what she’s about to claim as hers. 

She nods her head and lets out a shaky moan of agreement.

“Go pick up your chair and sit down, Lydia.” Tess swats her bum as she walks away and Lydia yelps quietly.

Tess’s eyes now come to you. Staring straight into your soul. I’m sure if she could, her eyes would incinerate your clothes right off of you. It’s intoxicating. You, unlike Lydia, are not nervous. Not in the slightest. If anything, Tess’s attention on you only makes you wetter. Your panties are practically soaked through already. “And you, my little thief. What’s your name?”

You say your name confidently and squeeze your thighs together, trying to ease some of the ache that Tess’s newfound attention is bringing to the apex of your thighs.

Tess whispers your name back at you and it sends a shiver down your spine. She continues, “Get on your hands and knees and crawl to me.”

Lydia swallows loudly beside you as you drop to the floor, crawling seductively to Tess, head held high. The worn hardwood planks creak under your weight. Even the floor is warm and sticky from the weather. You make it to her, sitting back on your heels like the good little girl you are. She leans forward and tugs on the hem of your dress and her syrupy voice says, “Arms up”. You lift your ass slightly and she slips your dress up and over your head. It was too hot for a bra today so you’re left in just a lacy pink thong.

“Mmmm, look at those pretty tits,” Tess hums, her fingers gliding along the plush soft skin of your breasts before ghosting over your nipples making the arm whoosh from your lungs. “You like that? Me touching your nipples.”

You breathe out a yes, eyes shutting as she pinches your pebbled buds roughly. “Oh god, yes.”

The old worn couch groans as Tess sits back, “Go take her bra and panties off.”

You climb to your feet and walk over to Lydia, holding out a hand and helping her stand. You move behind her and trail your fingers down the soft skin of her spinal column before popping the clasp of her bra. Lydia slides it off her body, arms crossing to block her now exposed breasts. Goosebumps rise across her from head to toe. You shush her and rub up and down her arms. Lydia relaxes under your touch and she drops her arms, Tess nods at you once, a silent encouragement to continue. You get down on your knees, hooking your index fingers in the waistband of her panties and sliding them down. Her round ass is in your face, she smells like fresh linen and rain. You fight the urge to kiss the sensitive little spot right where her ass crack starts.

“So fucking beautiful. Sit back down, Lydia.” Tess says and you want to cry out in protest. Her body is so enticing, soft and warm. She focuses back on you and says, “Stand in front of Lydia so she can take your panties off.”

You stand gracefully, biting your bottom lip as you maneuver yourself in front of Lydia. “Spread your legs,” you whisper, determined to help her so you can put on the best show for Tess. Lydia parts her knees and you twirl to face Tess, gathering your hair in one hand as Lydia slides your soaked panties down your legs. You kick them to the side and seductively drop your hair, smiling sweetly at Tess.

“Sit,” Tess barks. Lydia gasps behind you, but you like this; being told what to do. Commanded. Used. Tess continues after you sit, “I want you both to touch yourselves. Show me how you like it, but don’t come. You haven’t earned that yet. Understood?”

“Yes ma’am,” Lydia says, looking down at her hands. You nod eagerly, already sliding your ass to the edge of the chair and spreading your legs wide for her. Tess stares at your glistening core hungrily, leaning forward again to rest her muscular forearms on her knees. Her hair falls forward and frames her face. Her expression is hard, like you don’t want to disobey her in these moments. Brows are slightly knit together, lips in a thin line. She looks beautiful and dangerous, but as you bring your pointer and ring fingers to your entrance she softens a little, cocking her head to the side slightly. 

Lydia keeps her legs closed, slipping a finger down her slit and rubbing slowly from side to side. She whimpers silently beside you, glancing at you nervously. Your fingers easily slip inside of your soft, dripping hole. 

Tess’s eyes dance between the two of you. “Two very different girls,” she says to the room, neither of you stopping what you’re doing, both determined to become a part of her Treasures. “One of you seems shy, but I can work with that. Help you get out of your shell. And then there’s you,” her focus locks on you as she gets up with a grunt and saunters over to you. “You are a little whore, aren’t you? So eager to please.”

You feel yourself getting wetter at her attention and mean words. She pets your head lightly a few times, laughing quietly at how you lean into her touch, your eyes fluttering closed. Just as your lashes hit your cheeks she grabs a handful, pulls hard and gets within inches of your face. “You’re going to be a problem, aren’t ya?”

“No,” you gasp, your orgasm right on the precipice, so you slow your motions. “I’ll be good, Tess.”

“Did I say you could slow down?”

“I - I’m gonna come,” you whine. 

“No, you’re not. You just told me you’d be good. And good girls don’t come until they’re told.” She releases your hair and you suck in a breath. Tess’s presence is palpable, she seems to take up all the space and air in the apartment by just being here. “Do NOT come, that’s an order.”

Just as the last sentence leaves her mouth the door opens and the apartment gets smaller, like your whole existence is being put in a vacuum sealer. The deep chuckle that comes from whoever just entered makes your scalp prickle, but you keep your focus on Tess.

“What’re we doin’ here, Tess?” The voice is deep, with a slight southern accent highlighting an occasional word. It can only belong to one man, the only man allowed near Tess’s Treasures. Joel Miller. He’s feared and revered in the Boston QZ. Runs the drug trade that keeps both FEDRA and the seedy underbelly running. You’ve never seen him before, but you’ve heard stories.

“Recruits,” Tess says, walking over to Lydia, crouching in front of her. “This one is shy. The other one - well, I might need your help with her.”

Your clit feels like it’s zapped with electricity at her threatening promises and you moan loudly, pausing your fingers that have been plunging in and out of you as per Tess’s requests. “See,” she says flatly, hands massaging Lydia’s plush tanned thighs. 

You hear Joel’s heavy footsteps as he walks towards you, you can feel his heat and smell the tobacco coming off his skin. When he steps into your line of vision everything blurs. He’s beautiful and dangerous, but overall he’s the most incredible specimen you’ve ever seen. Your brain seems to go blank, like a hard reset, until all you see and smell and care about is Joel. You keep your eyes locked on his face, his brows crease, lips pressed tightly together. He plants his hands on his hips as his coffee and whiskey eyes slowly trail down your body. When he gets to your soaked and swollen pussy he licks his lips. “You gonna let her come?” He asks Tess but doesn’t take his eyes off you.

The fog clouding your brain clears and you glance towards Lydia and Tess. She has her legs spread and Tess is smiling encouragingly up at her, hand on top of hers, teaching her where to touch. 

“She can come when she’s earned it. Lydia’s earned it though. Haven’t you?” She nods at Lydia as she squirms in the wooden kitchen chair. “That’s it, show us.”

Lydia speeds the up and down motion of her hand sloppily, you can hear the wetness as her movements become more erratic. Joel’s eyes haven’t left you, still watching you fuck your fingers in and out of yourself, almost mesmerized by you. 

“Tess,” Lydia murmurs.

“Go ahead, baby. Come for me. Let me see that pretty little pussy twitch.” 

Lydia’s body starts to shake as she cries out, her hand slowing as she whines and moans, “Oh god. Oh god. Yesyesyes.”

You peel your eyes away from her and squeeze every muscle in your body as tightly as you can, holding on, not letting yourself come. Looking at Joel makes it nearly impossible not to tip over that very tantalizing edge, so you clamp your eyes shut. “Tess,” Joel says, his voice a baritone whisper. “You’re torturing this one, look at her.”

He’s right, she is torturing you; but, what Joel doesn’t know is that you love it. You love being denied just as much as you love being used. You love being pinned down or tied up. You love having your throat or pussy or ass fucked in any and all positions known to humankind. The world is a dark and horrible shit show, but sex? Ya, sex makes you feel alive. 

“Torturing her would be not letting her touch herself at all. She should be thanking me.” Tess turns her attention back to Lydia, helping her stand up and pulling her to the couch. “You did such a good job for me. You looked stunning as you fell apart.”

You open your eyes at the movement of them. They stop and stand facing each other in front of the couch as Tess removes her shirt, her breasts are small and perky with light pink nipples. Joel looks away from you, staring appreciatively at the woman he’s sworn to protect. She pops the button on her jeans. “Take them off her, Lydia. Tess shouldn’t have to work this hard,” Joel commands. 

You whimper at the timbre of Joel's voice when he’s giving instructions and his eyes whip back to you. “You like that, don’t you? Being told what to do.”

“Yes, oh god, please can I come Tess,” you cry, eyes still locked with Joels.

“Lydia is going to lick my pussy, Joel is going to move out of the way so I can see you, and when I say you can come I want you to be loud. I want to hear those slutty little moans. Got it?”

Joel doesn’t hesitate, stepping behind your chair. He must be leaning over you because you swear you can feel his breath on the shell of your ear. Tess sits on the couch and tugs at Lydia’s wrist gently, encouraging her to kneel in front of her. “Come on,” she whispers and then places her finger at the top of her pussy. “Just lick and kiss right here. You can do it.”

Lydia moves slowly, giving you a knowing glance over her shoulder as she gets into Tess’s desired position. You suddenly realize that she’s more clever than you initially thought. She’s not shy, she knows exactly what she’s doing. Tess likes to lead, so she acted like she needed the guidance. And now she’s come and you haven’t. Tess’s head falls back, jaw going slack as Lydia tastes her. 

“Does that turn you on?” Joel whispers, his warm breath hitting your neck. “Seeing Tess being eaten out. She deserves that every day, you know. She’s gonna take such good care of you, so you better care for her.”

“I will,” you mumble. “I’ll do whatever she needs. Whenever. Fuuuuck.”

“Look how wet you’re getting, I don’t think you can hold it for much longer.” He’s taunting you now. “Little thing loves to come, doesn’t she?”

“No, Tess gets to - oh god - she says when,” you’re squeezing as tight as you can, holding back the orgasm that’s right there, like a seesaw teetering, so close to tipping to the other side and slamming through you. 

Lydia slurps at Tess, you can hear her sucking at her clit as Tess moans and tangles her fingers into Lydia’s hair. “Yes, that’s it. Fuck, right there.”

You let out a breathy whine and Tess’s eyes come to you. “Ssshh, not yet. Oh shit, Lydia. So good.”

Joel laughs into your ear. “Just come, what’s the worst she’s going to do? Spank you? Let me fuck your throat? I bet you like being punished.”

You shake your head, trying to block out all the lewd mental images he’s creating. “No, Joel.” you huff, refocusing on holding it in, thinking of all the unsexy thoughts you can as you watch Tess, waiting for your time. 

Tess’s legs begin to shake, “get ready, baby. We are going to come together.” 

Your wrist begins to ache, it feels like you’ve been fucking yourself for hours. “I need to, please. You look so - “

She cuts you off, “Joel, take over for her. I’m gonna come.”

Joel practically leaps in front of you, grabbing your wrist and pulling your drenched fingers out while slipping his two thick fingers into your mouth. You bob up and down on his fingers still looking at Tess. Her eyes are glazed over, and a bead of sweat slides down the line of her toned stomach and lands in her belly button. 

“Now, Joel,” she whines and Joel wastes no time slamming his fingers inside of you. You cry out at the stretch, pleasure mixing with pain before he pumps his fingers forward. “Come right now,” Tess says. 

You look down at Joel, his thumb coming to caress your swollen bundle of nerves and you cry out, the room filled with your loud moans just like she wants. You hear both her and Joel encouraging you. Joel’s Texas twang washing over you,  “that’s it, fuckin clenchin. Fuck you’re so tight.”

Joel is relentless, curling and dragging his fingers in and out of you as you writhe in your chair. “Tess, oh god, yes.”

Joel's other hand slaps the inside of your thigh, “LOUDER!” he demands.

You squeal at the hot pain that splashes along your thigh, “hhnnngg, thank you. Fuck.” Your pleasurable moans turn into whines of pain as the overstimulation starts to seep in. You try to pull back and bring your knees together and Joel lets out a growl. He looks up at you dangerously and your stomach clenches. This is the wild, animalistic Joel Miller that everyone fears. 

You start to panic, he’s not stopping and you don’t know if you can take much more. You’re so wrapped in his onyx gaze and a mix of fear and arousal that you don’t notice Tess behind Joel until she speaks. Her voice is soft yet firm as she cards her fingers through his greying curls, “Joel, that’s enough.”

He blinks hard, seemingly coming out of some sort of trance, and then slips his fingers from you, strings of milky arousal coating his fingers. “Good boy,” she whispers. “Help her up, but you don’t get to touch either of them until I say so.”

He nods and then stands, helping you up. Lydia is lounging lazily on the couch, her face still glistening with Tess’s juices. Your knees shake underneath you and Joel wraps an arm around your waist. You’ve had plenty of orgasms in your life, but never one that deep and strong. Your pussy is aching and you just want to sleep.

Tess sits on the chair that Lydia was on and spreads her legs slightly. “Lydia,” she crooks her fingers at her, calling her over. “Turn around, pretty girl. Straddle my thigh.”

Lydia follows Tess’s instructions, that fake nervous pout of her lips on display for Joel. Clever, very clever, you think through heavy eyelids. 

“Joel, help her on the other thigh and bring that chair.” Joel guides and steadies you as you sit on Tess’s thigh, then places the extra chair in front of the three of you. “Use the chair for balance,” Tess instructs, her hand running up and down your spine gently. 

You both lean forward, your sweaty palms slipping slightly against the wooden chair. You both gasp quietly as your swollen clits press into her muscular thigh, as she caresses your backs and hips. Joel sits on the couch across from you, one arm draped across the back and his legs spread. He watches you intently, eyes blown out and curls sticking to his forehead. It’s not lost on you that he hasn’t focused much attention on the other girl. You look over at Lydia and she’s smiling flirtatiously at you. Your faces are just inches apart and she nudges at your nose with hers.

“Ladies,” Tess starts, “this is the part where you show Joel what you can do. He’s going to kill people for you, and when he does, you need to repay him.”

You graze your lips against Lydias, her skin tastes like peaches and Tess’s cunt. 

“Pretend my thigh is Joel's cock, show him how you’ll ride him.”

You flick your attention back to Joel, and his expression shifts from hard to a tortured need. You rake your eyes down his strong chest, still concealed by that fucking denim button up that you want to rip off with your teeth. He’s dangerous and could easily snap your neck with two fingers, but fuck, if that doesn’t make you want him more. Lydia presses her lips to your throat and you start to grind back and forth on Tess’s thigh. 

You continue to take in Joel’s body, stopping when you get to his lap. Your eyes widen at the distinct outline of his hard cock pressing behind the zipper of his jeans. Your bottom lip slips between your teeth as you lock eyes with him again. His coffee coloured irises are almost onyx as he shifts in his seat. He wants you - just as much as you want him, and you just hope that you can break him enough so Tess lets him have you. 

Tess’s strong hand travels up the smooth skin of your back, tangling her hands in the hair at the nape of your neck. “Tell Joel how good it feels, baby. Lydia, keep kissing her.”

Lydia’s lips suck at your skin. “Mmm, fuck Joel. Feels s’good. Wish it was your big cock filling me up, sliding in and out of my tight, wet pussy.” Tess tugs at your hair to open your neck more for Lydia and you yelp.

“Keep talking, baby girl,” Joel says, his hand moving to palm himself over his jeans. “Tell me what you want.”

You grind harder into Tess’s thigh, between the sting in your scalp from her hand, Lydia’s soft lips on your neck, and Joel’s intense stare, it almost becomes hard to breathe. Every bit of their attention is on you.

“I-I want you to, mmmm, to pin me down,” you take in a shaky breath, never taking your eyes off him. “To f-fuck me…from behind. Want you to f-fill, oh god, fill me.”

Joel pops the button of his jeans, reaching down his pants to grip himself through his tight grey boxers. You continue breathily, “Wanna feel you spank me. Slam inside of me. Dominate me.”

“Good girl,” Tess says, releasing her grip on your hair and pulling Lydia off your neck, before pressing in between your shoulder blades until you’re flush with her thigh. You crane your neck to keep your eyes on Joel, looking at him through the wooden slats of the back of the chair in front of you. “Your turn, Lydia. Tell Joel what you want.”

She clears her throat before beginning, “If he killed for me, I wouldn’t make him do any work. I’d lay him down, lick and kiss every inch of him before sliding him in my mouth. Taking him deep, cradling his balls with my hand. I’d swallow every drop.”

Joel lets out a noncommittal grunt, almost like a secret language between him and Tess. Joel leans forward and removes his denim button up and t-shirt in one swoop. His tanned and toned chest makes your mouth water. His chiselled pecs and soft belly have trimmed salt and pepper hair dusted across them, he toes off his shoes and then lifts his hip, sliding his jeans down his legs. His skin glistens with sweat and you want to lick it all off of him, drink up his salt and musk, his innate Joel-ness. 

“Come here, Joel.” She says. 

“Sit up,” she says softly to you. Joel stalks forward like he’s about to claim what’s his and your pussy clenches around nothing in hopes that it’s you.

“Ride my thighs, girls. Whoever cums first, Joel gets to fuck.” You spit into your hand and reach between your legs, gently spreading your lips and coating yourself in saliva.

A deep, “holy fuck” leaves Joel's lips at the sight of you. Yes, he definitely wants you just as much as you want him. You move your hands from the chair to Tess’s knee and grind your hips in small, slow circles. Your arms push your tits together for Joel. Beside you, Lydia stops moving. She sits as still as a statue, looking over her shoulder seductively at Tess. A loud slap fills the room, followed by a lust filled moan that you didn't think Lydia was capable of. 

“Tess,” she says, all airy and breathy. Her tone feels sweet on your skin. “I don’t like sleeping with men.” 

You keep grinding, your focus on Joel. He’s so close that you could reach out and grab one of his muscular forearms. You’re going to fuck him. You want to fuck him. Any way he wants. Any hole he wants. None of it matters, you just want to feel him, smell him, taste him. 

Tess lets out an impressed sigh. “You’re even more amazing than I thought, Lydia. Had me telling you how to lick a pussy, how to touch yourself. But you already know. Don’t you?” She slaps Lydia’s ass again and the loud noise even has you clenching. Fuck, you want Joel to spank you. Or Tess. Even Lydia at this point. 

It’s wrong. And taboo. But who can say what’s right or wrong in this new world anymore? 

“You are going to have to do things for Joel, little temptress. It’s part of the deal.” You see Tess’s hands come to Lydia’s hips, encouraging her to grind at the same pace you’ve set. “So ride me. Let me feel that slick little pussy, let me feel it quiver on my thigh.” 

Things are quiet for a moment, just the squelching sounds of both your cunts gliding along her smooth thigh. You lean into Lydia, desperate for more. More what, you aren’t sure. Just more.

She responds to your touch, her nose brushing your cheek before you turn into her and kiss her deeply. Slanting your head to taste her tongue against yours. She’s sweet, like strawberry jam. Lips so soft they almost don’t feel real. Her teeth clamp onto your bottom lip and you cry out. The perfect amount of pain to increase the pleasure between your legs. When she lets go you’re panting. 

“She’s close, Tess,” Joel murmurs like he knows your body so well, but he’s not wrong. He continues speaking casually to Tess as if you aren’t in the same room. “Do I really get to fuck her if she cums first?” 

You grind down harder, kissing Lydia again. You love them talking about you as if you aren’t here. Making the decisions for you. 

“As soon as she cums, you take her to the bed.” Tess’s strong hand lays a sharp slap on the meaty globe of your ass and you crumble. 

“YES!” You scream, convulsing as the pleasure courses through you. You look up at Joel through your lashes, jaw slack, voice weak and desperate. “Joel. Please. Please.” 

He drops his boxers and his thick cock spring free. Slapping against his belly. The tip is smooth and leaking, he’s bigger than you thought and somehow your throat dries out as your cheeks fill with saliva. As you come down from your second orgasm you realize that you can do this. You are going to do whatever Tess says and become one of her Treasures. 

“Think you can take him?” Tess hums as Lydia falls apart beside you, moaning sweetly. Tess adds, “Good girl, Lydia. So perfect when you cum.”  

You decide to take a page out of Lydia's book and act innocent. “N-no,” you stammer. “It’s…I don’t…it’s too big.” 

Joel snorts, “You’re not a very good liar my little slut.” 

Before you can respond he’s lifted you up and over his broad shoulder. His skin is warm against your belly. You giggle mischievously as his hands dig into the plush skin on the back of your thighs. He can so easily overpower you, so easily destroy you - mentally and physically. And you’d let him, and to make it worse, you’d thank him afterwards and probably ask him to do it again. 

He drops you on the bed. “Don’t move.” 

You nod and swallow the dry lump in your throat. You definitely want this, even if you shouldn’t. Even if that logical voice inside your head is screaming at you to put up the wall, block him out like you do with everyone else. But the infinitesimal hint of softness in his face that can only be seen by the two of you keeps you sucked in. He won’t hurt you, no. Something in his eyes gives him away, he wants to please you with those hands that have brought pain and torture to so many others. 

He walks back over to Tess and Lydia who are completely entranced with one another. Lydia is now sitting fully in Tess’s lap. Her back pressed to Tess’s front, both her legs draped over Tess’s as she pressed kisses along the tops of one of her shoulders and rubs her fingers gently from her pussy up to Lydia’s. Joel kneels in front of them, both of their legs spread, wet pussy’s glistening and on display for him. The sight of Joel Miller on his knees does something unexplainable to you. He’s so goddamn delicious. 

He looks over at you again, that softness still coaxing you deeper into his web, tangling around you, claiming you. His large hands cup Tess’s inner thighs and then he dives into both their pussy’s. Jealousy swirls in your stomach as he draws a sloppy wet line from Tess’s entrance to her clit, then up to Lydia in the same manner. 

“Oh, fuck Joel,” Tess cries as Lydia whimpers.

“Too much, baby?” he says gruffly to Lydia who nods before burying her face into the crook of Tess’s neck. “Little more, m’kay?”

He licks at them again, Tess’s moan ending as Lydia’s starts. Joel doesn’t stop. He uses long languid and lazy strokes of his tongue as he eats at both of them.

“J-Jo - fuuuck Joel!” Tess murmurs, her head falling back and mouth falling open in a silent scream. She wraps her arms tightly around Lydia as her legs start to tremble. Joel’s deltoids and biceps flex as he pushes to keep her thighs apart.

“Fuck, Tess.” Lydia purrs, “You look so goddamn hot when you cum. Suck on her clit, Joel. Make our girl squeal.” You can hear him slurp her swollen and twitching nub into his mouth. As it slips along his soft and puffy lips her pained sounding moans start to become mumbles of pleasure. Joel works her through her orgasm, not stopping until he knows she's good and sated.  

Lydia reaches back, twisting to kiss Tess deeply and then whispers into her lips. Whatever she says gets Joel's attention and he releases her clit with a pop before looking up at the two women. You haven’t moved from where Joel left you, as fun as being a brat is, he could probably dish out a punishment so intense that even you would break and use whatever safe word he gave you. Lydia whispers more, Joel smirks at whatever she’s saying and then the three of them all slowly turn to look over at you.

Fuck

Joel stands, his hands coming to the outsides of Tess’s knees and guiding her as she closes her legs, then he gives a hand to Lydia to help her stand before repeating the same with Tess. He stands tall and broad, completely naked and fully erect between these two powerhouse women, linking his fingers with Tess and smiling over at her. She gives him a little nod and your stomach flips as your pussy clenches.

This is it, you think.

“Little slut,” he says deeply, “‘M’gonna fuck you now, while they hold you down. Understood?”

You try to say yes, but just air seems to leave your lungs. Tess and Lydia climb along each side of you, hooking their arm under your leg and pulling back to open you for Joel. Your arms are trapped under their bodies as they lay beside you.  You’re pinned and exposed; fully at Joel, Tess and Lydia’s mercy. 

The bed dips as Joel settles between your thighs, his large body looms over you, resting himself on one forearm beside your head, his other hand wrapped around his cock, running it up and down your folds.

“So wet for me. So soft,” he presses the fat tip of his cock at your entrance and you gasp. “Shit! S’tight too, baby girl.”

Tess and Lydia nuzzle into you, lightly dragging their noses along your neck and jawline. “J-Joel, fuck me. Pleaseplease. Fuck me”

Joel presses his hips forwards, and the thick, smooth mushroom head of his cock pushes at your weeping cunt again. “Look at me, little slut,” he rasps. You don’t hesitate, look at him with big innocent eyes, biting your lower lip. He spits into his palm and then coats his throbbing dick with it, fisting himself up and down. He raises an eyebrow at you cockily, “Say it again.”

“Fuck me, fuck me, please!”

Without warning Joel slams into you, stretching you painfully and your body jolts. You try to slam your knees together but the naked women on each side of you keep you spread open widely for Joel. “Shit baby,” he says through gritted teeth as his body folds over yours, his hands caging all three of you in. Tess nips at your neck, while Lydia sucks at your earlobe after whispering, “Relax, little slut, we all got you.”

Your lungs slowly come back to you. You take a deep, full breath in, and it feels like you haven’t taken a proper breath since seeing Joel for the first time. As you exhale you’re completely surrounded by Joel Miller. His large body is all you can see and feel. Meanwhile, all you can taste and smell is his tobacco scent and the salt of the sweat that coats his tanned skin. You’re addicted, you want to be able to inject him right into your veins. Your pussy relaxes around him and the pain ebbs into pleasure, and you need more.

“More, please more,” you murmur into his neck.

“There she is,” Tess whispers in your ear and you whimper.

“Say it again,” Joel commands.

“Fuck me, Joel,” you cry. “Please, fuck me. Make me your little slut for real.”

Lydia giggles seductively in your ear, pulling you into her tighter.

“Open her all the way for me,” he says to the other two. “S’too tight for me.”

He sits himself up and your knees are pulled open and back. Joel keeps his eyes locked on yours as he tilts his chin a bit and splits on your already soaked pussy. His veiny hands come to the back of your thighs, squeezing and massaging at your sensitive skin.

“Think I should fuck her, Lydia?” He starts, and soon they’re talking about you again as if you aren’t even there, the slick walls of your cunt fluttering as they speak.

“She's been good, hasn’t she?” Lydia says in a syrupy aroused tone.

“No she hasn’t,” Tess says between kisses along your jawline. “She’s a thief. She’s a bad girl.”

Joel slaps the inside of one of your thighs, with just enough of a flick in his wrist that it immediately sends a zap of pleasure toward your clit. Lydia feels you relax more into her grips, “She likes it when you hit her, Joel”.

“Of course she does,” Tess moans. “She’s a little slut.” She hits the t at the end of the word hard and Joel slaps you again. Right in the same spot, precision that you’ve never known before from a man who kills without being seen. 

“Should feel how tight she is, maybe she had us fooled,” Joel says, eyes shifting between the two women, wholly avoiding your gaze. You’re so desperate for his attention, and the humiliation of him not returning it arouses you so much more than it should.

“What’d’ya mean, baby boy?” Tess asks, her warm breath hitting your neck, causing a shiver to run down your spine.

“Like a virgin, squeezin’ me like a vice.”

“She’s shakin,” Lydia adds. “Poor girl.”

“You two don’t stop kissing her while I do this,” they both nod and he flips his attention back to you. “I wanna hear you screamin’. Got it, little slut?”

You shudder under his intense stare. “Yes, yes, Joel. Please, just fuck me. Pleeease!”

He pulls halfway out and then slams back in, his heavy balls slap at your taint and asshole, your needy high pitched moans filling the room. Your whole body constricts around Joel and as it relaxes it feels like heaven. No one has made your body feel like this. “That feel good?” Joel says tauntingly, his hands gripping into the back of your thighs.

“Please - fuck, yes. More,” you mumble, almost incoherently. 

“Show our girl, Joel. Show her what he can have once she’s my Treasure.” Tess commands.

What’s that saying, ‘You say jump, I say how high’? Well, when Tess says jump, Joel is already mid jump, doing it exactly how Tess wants it. He’s already dragging his cock out slowly, all the way to the tip, before slamming fast and hard back into you.

“Harder,” Tess growls, biting your neck as Joel repeats the motion. Lydia squirms against you, her soft warm skin slipping along the thin sparkling layer of sweat that coats your body. “Look at her. Pliant, soft. Letting Joel do whatever he wants.”

“That’s cuz she’s a good girl,” Lydia moans, kissing the sensitive skin under your earlobe. 

Joel brings one of his hands to cup your chin, his thumb running around your bottom lip softly. “Gotta relax for me, little slut.”

You take a breath and as you exhale you can feel the grip your pussy has on his thick cock loosen. “That’s it. That’s my girl.”

“Good job, baby girl,” Tess whispers, kissing at your throat again. 

“Fuck her now, Joel.” Lydia says, “We got her.”

Joel sets a quick pace, slamming in and out of you. His name and a string of swears leaving your lips with every thrust, just the screams of your pleasure and the squelching of your pussy filling the room. Tess and Lydia whisper praises as Joel is possessed by your cunt. Pounding and pounding into you without pause. Over and over, he’s relentless. A man possessed. You can’t help but wonder if he’s like this with all other women or if this is just for you. His hand falls from your chin, landing beside Tess’s head on the mattress, the other still gripped to your thigh. His short nails dig into your skin, leaving you marked with signs of him. 

“That’s it,” Lydia hums. “Taking it like such a good girl.”

Tess’s teeth lightly scrape at your jawline. “Come on, baby. I wanna see you come again.”

“So fuckin’ pretty when you come,” Joel says each word at the end of his harsh thrusts. His voice is gravelly and deep. Seeping under your skin and into your DNA, the very fabric of your being. You belong to him, no questions asked.

“M-more. I - more - please.” You aren’t sure what you mean by more, but Joel seems to know your body better than you as he sits himself back up and brings his thumb to your clit, teasing it gently and you writhe under him. It’s almost too much but you need it, and even more, you need Joel not to stop.

He hammers into you again, slower this time, but still with an intense flick of his hips at the end. The leaking tip of his cock pressing against the perfect spongy part behind your clit.

“Can see you in her stomach, Cowboy.” Tess moans. Both the women feather long, lingering kisses along your neck. The juxtaposition of their soft actions and the bruising dance of Joel’s hip is just as confusing as it is arousing. 

“Rub her clit a little harder, Joel. I think she’s getting close.” You clench around him at Lydia’s words and cry out loudly. 

He swirls his thumb easily along your lubricated clit, the mixture of both of your arousals and his spit making it slippery. “Ohgod, hnnnnggg, J-Joel pleasepleaseplease.”

“Sssshhh, baby,” he soothes, pausing with his hips pushed flush to your ass. “Gotta relax, remember?”

You whimper in agreement, nodding your head as you try to slow your breathing and your heart rate. “There she goes,” Joel moans as your pussy walls flutter and then relax.

He starts to fuck you slowly, circling your swollen velvety nub with the rough pad of his thumb. His other hand leaves your thigh, massaging your breast, pinching at the nipple with his thumb and forefinger. “Fuck, you feel so good. So tight. Gonna fill you one day.”

“Today, please!” you protest through a salacious moan.

“Tell her,” he says to the women holding you in their arms, speeding up the circles of his thumb.

“Lydia,” Tess whispers, like it’s a secret just for the three of you, “Tell her your plan.”

You’re lost in a daze as Lydia says your name into your skin. When you don’t respond she nips gently at you and says, “Baby? You with me?”

“Y-yes. Fuuuuuuck,” you say wantonly.

“Joel is gonna make you cum, then pull out and cum all over our faces. After, we are going to lick it all off each other.” She says it with a hint of mischief and lust in her voice.

The three of them praise and encourage you as Joel keeps fucking you and rubbing your clit at the same time. You have no idea how long you’ve been in this apartment, how long you’ve been floating on a vibrating fluffy cloud of pleasure and craving. Whispers of “Good girl”, “so pretty”, and “fuck listen to how wet you are” travel through you.  

The electric currents of pleasure that sizzle along your skin all come to the base of your spine. Pressure building, so very close to exploding around all of you. “Come on, little slut. Let go for me.”

Lydia and Tess say ‘Come on’ and ‘relax into it’ at the same time.

“Shit, J-Joel,” you whimper. A tear runs down your cheek.

“I know, I’m here,” he says, voice slightly softer than earlier. “I know.”

The pressure becomes unbearable and then everything snaps. Your pussy flutters as the pleasure starts to consume every single inch of your being. Your vision blurs, every muscle going lax as you twitch unconsciously underneath him. 

“Good girl. Yes, that’s my good little slutty girl,” he growls. Your orgasm continues to tear through you, ripping you in half and you know when you come down only Joel will be able to stitch you back up again. 

Joel presses his large palm to your mound, and just as you feel yourself start to come down you’re on the precipice of another orgasm. “Got another one for me, baby?”

“Yesyesyes - yeeesss,” you’ve forgotten words, you’re just a bundle of pleasure. No muscles or bones or thoughts of your own. Just a pliant body, that’s fully under the control of Joel Miller. 

Your second orgasm hits you hard, tearing anything you had left in half. “She’s gonna squirt,” Joel mumbles.

“Just let it go,” Lydia whispers, suckling on your earlobe. 

You push into the feeling, letting it overtake you as liquid gushes from your cunt, coating Joel's pelvis and pooling on the bed below you. It splashes as Joel keeps up his pace. You scream out in pleasure. Lydia and Tess talking you through it quietly, “Good girl. Stay relaxed for me,” Tess says as Lydia adds, “Let it take you, we’re right here.”

The pleasure starts to ebb, it’s becoming too much as Tess whispers, “Breathe, baby girl. Just breathe.”

“Can’t, Tess.” you whimper, turning your face towards her. “Please,” you plead. If you learned anything from earlier, it’s that only Tess can make him stop. 

“Ok, baby, you’re ok,” she hums. She looks up at Joel above all of you and drops her voice, “That’s enough now, Joel.”

Joel pulls away from your clit and you sigh in relief, both his hands coming to your breasts, squeezing them roughly as his thrusts become sloppy. “Get ready,” he huffs through gritted teeth. Both Tess and Lydia scoot up so their faces are pressed against yours.

Joel slips out of you with a lewd pop and practically bends you in half to get over your faces. “Open your mouths and look at me,” he commands. The three of you obey, anything for the man who is going to kill for you or defend you to the very end if need be. 

His hand is tight around his cock, pumping himself quickly, the cords of muscle and veins along his forearm start to pop. His balls are full and heavy, tight against his body as he edges closer to his release. You stare at him, soaking in how wrecked he looks as he gets closer. His brows pinch together, onyx and whiskey flecked eyes looking only at you before his face goes lax and he lets out a deep, loud moan. Warm ropes of opaque white cum paint your faces.

As soon as he’s done he pulls away, Tess and Lydia letting go of your legs as the three of you kiss and lick at each other's sticky faces. Joel tastes better than you could have imagined, a heady mix of saltiness that leaves you insatiable for more.

Joel sits back on his heels watching the three of you slurp him up. He has a proud smirk on his face and when your eyes find his he winks at you before getting up and grabbing a towel off the top of the small dresser near the bed. Tess says something hushed to Lydia as you and Joel look at one another. Lydia pressed a kiss to your cheek before getting off the bed and following Tess into another room, the unmistakable sound of the shower alerting you to where they’ve gone.

Joel climbs beside you, looking down at you hesitantly. “You ok?” he whispers.

“Ya,” you sign sleepily. “I’m ok, Joel.”

He brings the towel to your thighs, soaking up your arousal. “I didn’t hurt ya?”

The towel ghosts along your swollen folds and you gasp, turning your head into Joel’s strong upper body. “I know, sorry.” He hisses, hating that he’s causing you discomfort. “But I gotta clean you up.”

He dabs gently with the soft towel causing an aftershock that shakes through your body and you feel yourself squirt again. Not nearly as much this time but a euphoric moan leaves your lips. Joel tucks the towel between your legs and guides your face up to meet his. His brown eyes burn themselves into your soul, “do you need more, baby? Just tell me.”

“It’s sensitive,” you whine.

He lifts an eyebrow slightly, “does it hurt?”

You stick your bottom lip out and nod sadly.

“Need me to kiss it?” he asks gently, his hooked nose rubbing against yours. 

You look at him hesitantly. Of course, you want Joel’s plush lips on your pussy, but a flap of a butterfly wing could probably cause you to implode at this point. 

“You can say another time,” he whispers, lips hovering over yours. He doesn’t know where this side of him has come from. Joel Miller is a simple man. Murder who Tess says, fuck any one of her Treasures that offer to get the adrenaline out afterwards, then leave them in their apartment pumped full of his cum. He usually can’t wait to rush back to his apartment to take a shower and shoot back a mix of whiskey and sleeping pills. But with you, he feels the need to care for you afterwards, and he has a strong feeling that you’re going to be a very large distraction in his life from now on. 

I’m fucked, he thinks to himself.

You lean forward to sponge your lips against his. He kisses you sweetly, pulling you in tighter as you hum contently into his lips.

“I don’t think I can tonight,” you say softly after breaking the kiss. 

“That’s ok, little slut.” He rolls onto his back, pulling you with him so you’re resting on top of him. Legs straddling his hips and your head resting on his chest. You shiver against him, tucking your arms into your body. His hands scramble for the blanket, wrapping it around the two of you, kissing the top of your head. “Tomorrow, after Tess officially makes you her Treasure, that will be your gift from me.”

You nod into his chest, he smells like gunpowder, fresh sawdust and sweat as your eyelids become heavy and the world seems to slip away. You have trouble sleeping normally, I mean who wouldn’t in this fucked up new world you’re all in, but with Joel, it happens almost too easily. Sleep just takes you to a deep and uninterrupted place for who knows how long. But when you wake you’re in a large grey t-shirt in a small bedroom, not the same one you fell asleep in. You hear the peaceful and melodic breathing of someone beside you. You move slowly, peeling open your eyes to see Joel sleeping beside you. The moonlight dances softly along his face, grey hairs glinting in the light. He looks so peaceful, nothing like the man that was crazed by your pussy early. He’s still visibly dangerous, but fuck is he beautiful. 

I’m fucked, you think to yourself.

Tag list:

@corazondebeskar @hiddenbabynyc @rainstorms-library @smutsmutslut @sullyrocky44 

@keylimebeag @pimosworld @casa-boiardi @pedritoferg @paleidiot

@lorilane33 @pansexual-potatoes @jessthebaker @jasminedragoon @koshkaj-blog

@pedroswife69 @strawberri-blonde  @none-of-this-makes-any-sense @iloveenya

@javierpena-inatacvest @blazeflays @akah565 @pinkiec6-rubi @pedroshotwifey

@iluvurfather @ashleyfilm @mermaidgirl30 @untamedheart81 @littlevenicebitch69

[mountainsandmayhem-updates]

✨ The ladies of BDSMaid ✨

I figured I could share what I have pictured while writing Joel’s sweet girl and all her friends. I’ll keep it below the cut for those that just want to picture themselves as the female lead.

Kim (aka Freckles / Joel’s Sweet Girl)

Jamie (Tommy)

Laren (Tess)

Ophelia (Frankie and Santi)

[mountainsandmayhem-updates]

Maid Discreetly

Tommy Miller x Female OC

18+ || The BDSMaid Series

Summary: After what he did to your best friend, fuck Joel Miller and the horse he rode in on! But a twist of fate has you falling for his brother, who is also your dad’s friend. Oh, and did you mention that you hate him? Can love really conquer all, or should you just settle for kinky hot sex with an older man?

TW: age gap, open door romance scenes involving aspects of BDSM, sub/dom dynamics, fully described female OC. Similar to BDSMaid, TW will be below the cut in small, red lettering to avoid spoilers to those who care.

Chapter 1 - April 14

Chapter 2 - April 28

Chapter 3 - May 12

Chapter 4 - May 26

Chapter 5 - June 9

Chapter 6 - June 23

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Epilogue

Chapter dates not listed are TBD, chapter numbers and dates are all subject to change

[mountainsandmayhem-updates]

The second part of the BDSMaid trilogy is coming soon, friends! Read Joel’s story here and brace yourself for what Tommy has in store next! 💕

Pairing: Millionaire Joel Miller x Female Reader

Rating: 18+ 🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️

Updated Word Count: ~90k

Series Summary: After recently graduating from university, your best friend offers you a job cleaning luxury homes for clients you’ll never know. It’s only temporary and a good way to save money for when you go back to get your law degree. That’s what you’re promised at least. Easy. Simple. Mundane. That is, until one of your clients is home and everything that you felt was missing in your life starts to fall into place. This goes against the NDA you signed and you could get fired. Or worse, you could fall in love.

Content Warning: In order to avoid spoilers I will not be warning you of everything. This story will contain sexually explicit material around the world of BDSM. Please remember that even with the age gap betweeen Joel and Reader, they are both legal and consenting adults. Although my intentions are never to trigger anyone, you are solely responsible for the content you consume. That being said, as a survivor of sexual assault none of this story will contain dubcon or consensual non consent. At the heart of it all, this is a love story.

AN: I figured that @mermaidgirl30, @littlevenicebitch69, @burntheedges and @joelmillerisapunk are all sick of me yelling at them about this story so I should start sharing! Thank you to the 4 of you for all your kind words and encouragement. To the 800+ of you that follow me, thank you for being such beautiful souls and encouraging me to work on my craft. I hope you love this series as much as I love each and every one of you. Dividers by @saradika-graphics

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5 - Part One

Chapter 5 - Part Two

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Epilogue

Follow @mountainsandmayhem-updates and turn on notifications for updates.

[mountainsandmayhem-updates]

Wonderful Tonight

Marcus Pike x Pregnant Female Reader - 18+

Summary: Marcus Pike takes care of his very pregnant wife, shaving her legs (and more) and then treats her like the delicious meal she is. CW: pregnancy, shaving, fingering, oral sex (f!receiving), unprotected p in v (you can't get pregnant while pregnant, but all of you better be wrappin it up!), praise, pet names (baby, honey, etc.), multiple orgasms. This is fluffy romantic smut. AN: I write one piece with feelings and suddenly I'm Mrs Romance over here! I gotta say that I'm falling deeper and deeper for Mr Marcus Pike, JUST LOOK AT THAT FACE!!! I feel like their wedding song would have been Wonderful Tonight by Eric Clapton, hence the title. Thank you @syd-djarin for reading this over for me. @survivingandenduring, I'll be waiting for my edits lol. Dividers by @saradika-graphics Word Count: 3.9k

A faint groan stirs Marcus awake, he takes a few seconds to fully come to, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand. Trying to listen for that sound again, unsure if it was a dream or not. He reaches across the plush white bedding of the king sized bed looking for you, his beautiful and very pregnant wife, only to find the bed empty. 

Usually, worry and panic would rush through him if you weren’t in bed, but you appear to be in your nesting phase and it hasn’t been unusual in these last few weeks for him to find you rearranging the nursery or ordering more things off Amazon at strange hours. You also seemed to have the strangest midnight cravings, like mayonnaise on ice cream, or there was that night he walked on you about to take a bite out of a kitchen sponge. 

He sits on the edge of the bed and stretches, looking over at his alarm clock. 2:56 am. 

The sound of you huffing and grunting floats from under the door of your ensuite bathroom. You sound like you’re struggling or in pain and adrenaline courses through Marcus as he hops up and rushes to the door. His mind racing to calculate the number of weeks pregnant you are and if it’s too soon for you to be in labour or not. 

He tries the door handle to find it locked. “Babe?” He calls, rapping his knuckle in the door gently. 

“Sorry. I’m fine. Go back to sleep,” you call back, your voice seems off like it’s laced with discomfort. It immediately sets his teeth on edge, you’re not fine, and according to his quick math you’re also at a point where you could go into labour and even though the baby would be a little early, they’d be past the danger zone and the baby would most likely be ok. 

“Please open the door. You don’t sound fine.” He says softly, pushing the panic down like the trained FBI agent he is. 

You’re quiet for a second before responding in a more stable voice, “Everything is fine. I’m sorry I woke you up.” 

“Are you sure everything is ok?” He asks one more time, he knows your stubborn tendencies and how it usually takes him to ask three or four times before you give in. 

It’s silent again behind the door. Just the sound of you huffing like you ran a marathon before a sad little ‘no’ leaves your lips. It simultaneously sends him into fix mode and breaks his heart. He hears your bare feet pad across the tile floor followed by the click of the lock. 

He cracks the door slowly to come face to face with you in just your sports bra, naked from the ribs down. Your legs are slathered in raspberry and tangerine scented shaving cream and you have a purple razor in your hand. Your cheeks are pink with frustration and the exertion of trying to bend down. Your hair’s piled on top of your head, a few loose strands falling and sticking along the nape of your neck. 

He leans his toned bicep against the doorframe, only wearing his tight black boxers, then crosses his arms and looks at you tenderly. His voice is soft and full of love as he says, “Oh, sweetie. What are you doing?” 

The tears of frustration start to pool along your lash line. “I’m gonna give birth and I can’t be a Sasquatch, but I can’t bend over without feeling like my lungs are being crushed by my giant belly.” 

Marcus cups your face, wiping away the stray tear and bringing your eyes to his. “Honey, you’re not a Sasquatch. And even if you were, they’re doctors. Come here,” his hand trails to the nape of your neck and he pulls you gently into him, wrapping both arms around you and tucking your head into his neck, “They’re not looking at your leg hair. They’re focused on you and the baby.” 

You relax into his arms, belly pressing against his abdomen comfortably. “I can’t go into labour like this,” you say, anxiety wavering in your voice. 

Marcus drops his arms from your body and slides past you, slipping his boxers down before stepping into the large, glass walled shower. He turns the nob that controls the rainfall shower head and crooks his fingers at you as a silent call to walk to him. 

When you reach him, he starts to unzip the front of your sports bra. “What are you doin’, Mr Pike?” You say softly over the soothing sounds of the shower, watching his thick fingers pull the zipper down. 

“I’m shaving Mrs Pike’s legs,” he says as you look back up at him. His chocolate brown eyes soaked you in and made you weak in the knees. 

“Marcus, you -“ he cuts you off as your sports bra hits the floor. 

“I promise to love, cherish and treasure you,” he starts, lightly pulling you into the shower. He always recites his marriage vows when he can sense you’re about to fight off his help. His way of reminding you that he wants to be there, wants to care for you. He continues his speech as he leads you to the wooden bench, “In all circumstances; good or bad. Forever. Without hesitation or keeping score. From this breath, until my last breath, you are my wife, my love, my partner, and my equal.” 

He steadies you as you sit before taking a knee in front of you and smiling up at you sweetly. 

“Thank you,” you whisper. It’s the middle of the night and this incredibly sweet man doesn’t even question or fight you. Just supports and loves you with his whole being. “I don’t deserve you.” 

“Baby, you’re growing a person for us. You deserve so much more,” he holds his palm out and you place the razor in his hand. His other hand wraps around your swollen ankle lifting it to rest your foot on his knee. Before you can say much he starts making slow, gentle strokes of the razor up your leg. 

You’re both silent for a moment, him lost in the sight of your soft skin as he shaves your leg, you lost in him and the way he’s looking at you as he drags the sharp razor so tenderly across your skin. The steam from the shower wraps around the two of you, encasing you in your own little cloud. The rest of the world and all your worries are temporarily blocked out until all your thoughts are just Marcus. Sweet, loving, emotionally available, Marcus Pike. 

He reaches for the detachable shower head and drizzles warm water down your shin and calf, using his free hand to rinse away the excess shaving cream. You go to move your leg away but he grabs your ankle to keep you there. After switching off the water he puts it back and looks up at you, placing a light and lingering kiss on the inside of your knee before placing your foot back on the warm tile floor and grabbing the other ankle. 

The shaving cream has washed away from the steam and backsplash from the rainfall behind Marcus, so he grabs the bar of soap and lathers up your leg. You watch again as he focuses all his attention on carefully shaving your other leg. Using the same little strokes, rinsing the razor more often than you would if you were doing it yourself. 

After rinsing off the excess soap he glances up at you. “Better?” He asks soothingly. 

“Ya,” you say, trying to convince him that your legs were your only worry, but he knows you better than that. He knows that when you flick your eyes away from his and your spine just slightly stiffens you want to ask something but are afraid or nervous to. 

“Honey, what else do you need?” His hand kneads the swollen and sore muscles of the calf that’s still propped on his knee. 

“Well…” you trail off as you start to blush. 

“Mrs Pike. Are you going to ask me to shave your pussy?” He says with a devious little grin. Eyes lighting up like a horny teenager, placing your foot on the floor. 

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” you say quickly. “I’m just worried that -“

He lightly covers your lips with his palm and Reminds himself to stay calm. he’s thought about how sensual it would be to shave your most delicious areas, but he knows you have some insecurities about body hair, and he didn’t want you to think you had to be clean shaven for him to find you sexy. Because truthfully, you could be a Sasquatch and he’d still want you. “Oh no, baby. I want to. I really REALLY want to.” 

You lightly kiss the inside of his palm as he smiles hungrily at you. Just as your insecurities start to cloud your thoughts Marcus places his hands on your belly and rubs gently. “For the record, you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on, clean shaven or not. I love the taste of your pussy when it’s like this, it’s sweeter and feels soft against my skin. Plus, I love the way you cry out when I tug on it. So don’t think for a second that my excitement over getting to shave her means I prefer it that way. I don’t. Ok?” 

You crash your lips into his, tangling your fingers through the slightly outgrown hair at the nape of his neck. He tastes like toothpaste still from before he went to bed as you tilt your head to deepen the kiss, his soft wet tongue swiping against yours. The two of you stay like that for a while. Lazily making out in the middle of the night in the shower. His hands trail from your belly to your back, gently massaging the muscles of your lower back and then your hips. 

He breaks the kiss, resting his forehead against yours as you catch your breath. “I’m going to get a new razor and your special shaving cream. Ok?” 

You nod against him. “Are you ok on the bench, honey? Do you need a towel to sit on?�� 

“No, I’m ok. We can move if the ground is uncomfortable, Marcus.” He’s always beating you to ensure the other is comfortable. 

“Be right back,” he winks. You watch him walk out of the shower to the vanity. The water droplets on his back run down the toned and slender muscles that line his back, they catch in the curve of his ass before running down his tight cheeks. You find yourself squeezing your knees together at the sight of your naked husband. He truly is so beautiful, inside and out. 

He slips back into the shower and kneels before you, sitting back on his heels. “Slide to the edge, baby.” His hands come to your hips, guiding you forward. He licks his lips and looks up at you through his thick lashes, big brown eyes dancing softly around your face. “Spread your legs for me.” 

Normally, saying something like that would sound dirty, or like a command, but it floats gently over the splash of the shower. Soft, caring, and so sweet that you melt back onto your hands, parting your knees wide for your husband. His eyes glaze over slightly as his lips part, your glistening soft folds on display for him. He blinks a few times and takes a slow breath, reaching for the shower head again, cupping the water in his hand and drizzling it along your pussy. The breath catches in your throat, something about this feels incredibly sensual, and it doesn’t help that Marcus is looking down at your pussy like it’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. 

“Is the water ok? Not too hot?” He asks. 

How did you get so lucky, but more so, how did anyone divorce this man in the past? 

“It’s perfect. Thank you,” your voice waves, it’s breathy and full of arousal. He blinks up at you and smirks. He knows this is turning you on, and he plans to make sure you enjoy yourself as much as possible. 

He applies the cream and grabs the razor, popping off the flimsy plastic guard before getting to work. His hand rests above your mound, pulling back gently to make the skin taut. He uses little strokes, rinsing the blade between each swipe of the razor. You close your eyes and let your head fall back as he continues. Once he’s removed all the hair from the top, he rests his hand on the now smooth skin just above your clit and gently pulls back. A soft whimper passes your lips, he’s so close to your most sensitive spots. But he said he’d help you shave, so he continues, swiping the razor in the same short strokes down one lip, and then the other. By the time he’s done, your breathing is rapid and shallow. 

“You doing okay up there, baby?” He asks, placing the razor on the bench beside you. 

You moan a soft ‘mmmmm-hmm’ as he reaches for the detachable shower head. You open your eyes, watching as he tests the water on his hand and wrist before holding the stream over your pussy. You gasp at the feeling of the warm water pressure flowing over your now swollen clit. Marcus smiles up at you, the dimple on his cheek forming and setting you on fire. He clicks the button on the side of the shower head, increasing the water pressure and holding it closer to your core. 

“Marcus,” you whimper, leaning back further. Gravity lolling your head backwards. 

“That’s it. Just relax, honey.” He says in a hushed voice, his free hand gripping and massaging the soft skin of your inner thigh higher and higher until he’s at the top. His thick middle and ring fingers coming to tease around your entrance. 

“Oh god. Please, Marcus.” You say through bated breath. Your swollen breasts and belly rise and fall with your pleas. 

He dips the tips of his fingers inside you, feeling your walls pulse and flutter. Taking his time to slowly fuck his fingers into you, inch by inch. Slowly. Lovingly. All while watching how you react. Watching the way your mouth falls open, eyebrows raising slightly, lips going soft as you moan his name. 

Once his fingers are all the way, he curls them forward just as he clicks the button on the shower head, increasing the water pressure to its highest setting. You let out a long, husky wanton moan that echoes off the black tiled walls. “Cum for me, baby.” 

Your legs start to shake, as your body almost launches you towards your release. Every muscle seems to go slack and it waves through you, pleasure reverberating from your aching clit, spreading to every cell in your body. 

“Marcus. Oh fuck. Don’t stop, Pike. Please.”

You feel lighter, even as your heavy belly bounces as you grind shamelessly into Marcus’s palm and the spray of the shower head. He feels the grip of your slick walled pussy start to relax as you crest over the edge of your orgasm and start to come down. He pulls the stream of water away from your clit, the warmth of his large hand cupping you, his two thick fingers still working you slowly to the bottom of your high. 

“You’re such a goddess, baby.” He says proudly. The praise wraps around you like a warm blanket as he slides his fingers from you carefully. “I wanna take you to bed and watch you do that again.”

You find the strength to arch your neck forward and look at him. You smile sleepily and nod, allowing your beautiful husband to take your hand, shut off the water, and lead you to bed. Before helping you climb in, he moves his hands to cup your face, placing his lips against yours. His chest rumbles with a content sigh as your tongue swipes hungrily along his soft bottom lip. One of your hands scoops under your belly, lifting it to relieve the pressure on your lower back, the other reaches for his hard cock. You grip around the base gently and stroke him slowly, matching the energy of the kiss. 

“Mmmm, I like that baby,” he says between kisses, “But I’m not done with you yet. Let’s get you into bed.” 

You climb in as gracefully as possible, praying silently that you don’t look like those sea lions that you watched on your honeymoon in Alaska a few years ago. You lay down on your back as Marcus climbs on top of you best he can, stretching to keep kissing you, doing his best not to put any of his weight on your bump. This position immediately puts pressure on your body, making you feel short of breath. 

Your hands push at Marcus and you sit up slightly, seemingly fighting for breath. “Ugh,” you groan frustratedly, “I can’t breathe like that. I’m sorry. This is so unsexy.” 

“Unsexy? I’m rock hard for you,” he says, looking down and then back at you with a smile. “You lay how it’s comfortable, how about that?” 

“Pike, I’m only comfortable on my side with that crazy pillow under my leg.” You say, defeated and anxious. “I need you though.”

He thinks for a second, chewing his cheek as he surveys the pillows available. “Ok, what if you lay on your side, bottom leg straight, top leg hooked up and resting on the pillow?” 

You smile at him lovingly, “Is that really gonna be sexy?”

“Honey, I’ve never been more turned on by anyone in my entire life. You’re glowing. I’m amazed by you every day.” He fluffs the pillows around you as you turn away from him, bending your leg up as high as your belly allows. “Is that comfy, baby?” 

His fingers trace up and down your spine slowly as your body starts to sink and relax into the soft mattress. “Yes,” you whisper. 

His lips come to your neck, kissing the soft spot behind your ear, down your neck and then along the top of your shoulder, fingertips swirling along your back and ass cheeks. Your eyes flutter closed, moaning at his sweet caresses. His lips continue to kiss your skin and down your back, as he spins his body so his feet are at the head of the bed. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he says into your skin between kisses. “So strong. So selfless. I love you so much, Mrs Pike.” 

Your whole body seems to tingle with anticipation of where he’s going to kiss next, you feel his hair tickle the inside of your top leg as he maneuvers his head between your thighs. You lift your leg higher, desperate to feel his mouth on your already sensitive pussy.

“Please, baby,” you gasp, arching your back slightly. “I need you to…” 

His warm soft tongue licks a slow and teasing stripe from your asshole to your clit. A tortured moan leaves your lips, hips bucking into his face. Marcus lets out a silent laugh at your reaction. He’s always loved how your body responds to him. The very first time he made you cum, both of you still fully dressed as you made out, hips grinding into his as you shook, he knew that he wanted to see that for the rest of his life. 

“Good girl, let me taste it.” He laps at you again, still just as slowly but with more pressure. Asshole, to entrance, to clit. Once. Twice. The third time his thumb comes to press into your now dripping pussy, tongue flicking around your nub slowly and with perfect pressure. 

“You taste so good,” he moans between licks. “Such a good girl for me. You’re gonna cum soon aren’t you?” 

“Yes. Yesss. Don’t stop, Pike.” He doesn’t stop, he never stops. Not until you’re either begging him to or you’re pushing him away. 

“Never, honey,” he mumbles into your wet folds, and that’s when the tight elastic behind your mound snaps, and you cum hard and loud. Your inner walls grip his thumb tightly, pulling it deeper. 

“M-Marcus…hnnggg…oh my god. Yes.” You’re lost in the euphoria. Every ache and pain from your pregnancy is temporarily erased and replaced with nothing but pleasure. Sparkling, warm pleasure.

It slowly starts to become too much, slipping into overstimulation. “Marcus. Stop, baby.” He’s always in tune with your body, his thumb already starting to slide out, tongue replaced with light kisses. 

You whine as he pulls away, already missing him and the intimacy. “Please fuck me,” you say over your shoulder, his blown out coffee coloured eyes almost black. He slips his body alongside yours, the arm closest to the mattress slipping under your head. He grips his dick with his other hand, pumping it while running it up and down your slit, collecting your arousal. 

“Ready, baby?” Marcus asks, kissing the top of your shoulder. 

“Just fuck me already!” 

If you weren’t pregnant he’d flip you onto your belly and drive into you, probably pull your hair and tell you to cut the attitude. But he knows he has to be gentler right now, so he slowly pushes the thick head of his cock into you. Inching in slowly, almost punishingly. “Don’t be a brat, baby. You know we have to be softer right now.” 

You wiggle your ass back, trying to get more. You need all of him. When he’s finally seated all the way inside of you he holds still, sucking on your neck. “Be good, or I’ll just stay like this all night.” 

“No, please, baby. Please move.” Your belly makes forward movement impossible so you’re just pinned between your bump and Marcus. “Pike, please.” 

He quickly pulls back to the tip and then slides back in. You cry out into his bicep. “Again. Please. Again.” 

“Fuck, I love it when you beg,” he whispers, fucking in and out of you a few more times. It’s deep and slow, always with a little extra punch of his hips at the very end. “Sound so pretty when you moan for me.” 

You reach down to rub your clit, him encouraging you with his words. “That’s a good girl. Touch yourself for me.” 

It doesn’t take long before you’re both on the edge, ready to tumble over together. To get lost in each other's pleasure. He moans deeply in your ear, whispering praises as you cum on his cock, holding off as long as he can before you feel his warm spend fill you. You’ve completely melted for him, unable to move or keep your eyes open. You both lay quiet, his softening cock still buried inside you, breathing heavily together. You both drift off, spent and happy and so unbelievably in love that it’s hard to believe something like this can exist. 

Marcus wakes up a few hours later still inside you. He slowly slips himself out, peels his body away from yours and tucks the blankets around you. He leaves you a little handwritten note that he’s going to get French toast and bacon from your favourite place. 

Ya, it’s definitely hard to believe that a love like this is yours. 

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