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jokersfangirl84 · 9 months

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Words Get in the Way

A Frankie Morales x F! Reader Fic

Chapter Three

Pairing: Francisco "Catfish" Morales x F! Reader

Summary: Four weeks have passed since Frankie came back to your place and made love to you for the first time after you both confessed your true love for one another, becoming more than friends. Afterwards he was called out for a mission to Colombia which was supposed to have only lasted a few days. You haven't heard from him in hours on the day he's scheduled to come home and you begin to think he's not returning. He introduces you to some interesting bedroom escapades you have never before experienced, and unveils some of his own personal kinks he'd been hiding for years. He has also brought you a rather unorthodox gift...with an unusual proposition...

Word Count: 5800+

Warnings/Ratings: M-Explicit! SMUT! SMUT! SMUT! DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE UNDER 18! Nothing But smut!! Hooooooooo boy. I went out of control on this one. There are full descriptions of PIV Sex, unprotected sex (although I do strongly suggest wrapping it up), multiple orgasms, vaginal/anal fingering, oral sex (f! receiving), shower sex, sex against the wall, doggy style sex, hair pulling, spanking, rough sex (nothing too intense), kissing, touching, masturbation, dom/sub dynamic, dirty talk, vulgarity, profanity, TONS of F-bombs with which I may have gone overboard, several mentions of cock, pussy, ass. Mentions of possible past trauma. There are sprinkles of sweetness, worry, love, doing anything for the person with whom you're in love. Characters call each other "Baby" and "My Love" many times throughout.

Author's Notes: OH MY GOD. YALL. I have done a VERY bad thing. I should be ashamed. This is the dirtiest, sleaziest, horniest, smuttiest, filthiest thing I have ever written in my entire life. This makes Chapter 2 look very tame. Frankie is a very naughty, filthy boy in this. He hasn't seen his girl in weeks so he is feeling rather.....*ahem*....anxious. I can't believe I wrote this. I basically didn't hold back & let it all out & poured my heart and soul into it. This took me three months to finish because I kept doubting it would be any good. I kept getting in my feels; not only from the content itself but from being unable to convince myself I was any good at writing. I didn't think I ever would get it completed & almost gave up but I knew that wasn't an option. I really enjoyed writing this once I got in the groove & stopped overthinking everything. I want to thank all my wonderful friends for their encouragement & to all the incredibly talented writers out there whose material I turned to for inspiration and motivation. Y'all are amazing! I hope you enjoy this and hope it makes you feel the things you want to feel. Happy reading! Thank you for all your support!

Side Note: there's an unexpected twist! Not gonna say where but it's in there!

Below are the links for Chapters 1 & 2! Enjoy!

Stay tuned for Chapter 4!

Thank you for taking the time out of your day to read this! I appreciate you so much!

Feedback is welcome!

Reblogs & likes are loved and appreciated!

Thank you to my besties @popcornforone @salgal78 @princessjenn420 and @fatimaisabelpascal for all your love, advice and encouragement to keep me writing and going forward with my ideas! I wouldn't have finished this chapter without you guys' precious support! I love you so much! @harriedandharassed @sherala007 you asked to be tagged in chapter 3 so here you go! Please enjoy!

(Reader's POV)

You stood in the shower letting the steaming water flow carelessly over you, resisting the impulse to have an emotional breakdown. There'd been no contact from Frankie since he last texted you saying his plane landed, his luggage was located, and he was on his way. That was four hours ago. You called him repeatedly; straight to voicemail each time. No replies to your frequent "where are you?" "are you okay?" texts to him. You even contacted Pope, Redfly, Ironhead, and Benny asking about his whereabouts. No one had heard from him since deboarding the plane and going their separate ways. Panic began settling in. Sinister thoughts crowded your mind:

He isn't returning to you. He has changed his mind. He has taken Erica back or found someone else. He made love to you, gave you what you wanted, and now he has nothing to do with you.

You shook your head, silently telling yourself not to think that way. Frankie would never treat you in such a manner. He is not that person. He has always been there for you. He meant every word he said when he told you he loves you.

You still wondered where the hell he was, and why he wasn't replying to you. Maybe he stopped to get a bite to eat and left his phone in the car. Maybe he decided to go to his place first for a nap and forgot to set an alarm. Convincing yourself these were plausible reasons for his absence helped you push the negative thoughts aside. You continued scrubbing the sweat and grime off your body accumulated from cooking dinner and cleaning your apartment all day, preparing for Frankie's arrival. You haven't seen him in four weeks and you needed to get a shower in before he showed up.

(Frankie's POV)

Frankie arrived at your apartment fifteen minutes after your shower started. He let himself in, setting his black duffel bag on the sofa. Your apartment smelled like fresh-baked chocolate chip cookies, his favorite. A full two dozen waited for him on the stove. Sitting on the counter was a crockpot full of boiling homemade stew. The rumbling hunger in his stomach intensified. He hadn't eaten much all day, only the unsatisfactory meals on the plane. He couldn't wait to get to your place knowing you'd have something fantastic prepared for him.

"I'm here, Baby. Where's my girl?" You were nowhere to be found. Not in the living room, not in the kitchen. He could hear music coming from the bathroom down the hall, hear the faint roar of the shower running, see steam clouds seeping through the barely cracked-open door, smell your floral body wash. He pushed it open wider, peeking inside.

"Baby, it's me." No reply. You were too busy singing along to your favorite tune to hear him. He stiffened against his jeans when he heard your angelic voice; saw your nude silhouette behind the glass door. The idea of surprising you and making you scream the way he did on the sofa a few weeks ago popped into his mind. His brain constantly replayed the events of that night. He loved the sounds he was able to coax out of you as he fucked you for the first time after years of longing. Loved how his name rolled off your tongue, how your nails felt digging into his skin, how your worlds collided when you confessed your true feelings for each other. He could still feel you clenching around him as he made you cum. God, he wanted-no, needed more of this. He needed you.

Knowing how much you disliked having your personal space invaded made him change his mind about joining you. He closed the door and made his way back to the living room, making a pit stop in the kitchen to grab a few cookies, consuming them in seconds. He made himself comfortable in the recliner, closed his eyes, pulled his cap down, hands resting on his belly, fingers interlocked. His body felt limp with exhaustion, in great need of rest. He was beyond relieved to be back in the States. This extra-long trip to Colombia had been a nightmare. The mission was only scheduled to have lasted three days. Plans went astray in every possible way: flights were delayed, vehicles broke down, the group received inadequate pay (even after being promised a much larger sum; the main reason the job was taken), desperate measures were executed by the guys during an ambush.

Your soothing singing, the only noise filling the entire dwelling, urged him to fall asleep. Images of what you looked like in the shower appeared behind his eyelids; the soapy water trailing down your body, over your breasts and erect nipples, down your stomach, between your thighs as you glided your favorite loofah over your skin. Your soft, delicate hands massaging their way through your hair. You pleasuring yourself with the hand-held shower nozzle while thinking of him....his name on your lips...begging to be fucked....

He began sleepily palming himself through his pants. He wondered how much time you had left in the shower. You were notorious for making them last longer than necessary. He opened his belt and zipper and wrapped a hand around his already-hard cock, flicking his index finger over his leaking tip, giving himself a couple of languid strokes, almost in a deep sleep. The more he pictured you being wet, naked, and vulnerable, the faster his strokes became. He was on the verge of climaxing when his eyes shot open, coming to a realization.

Wait a minute. Why the fuck am I doing this? There is someone who can take care of your needs...and she's only a few feet away…

He climbed out of the recliner and made his way to the bathroom. Fuck it. He was going to join you whether you liked it or not.

(Reader's POV)

You were rinsing the shampoo out of your hair when you thought you felt an unusual cool breeze behind you. You shrugged it off, knowing the shower door had a tendency to slide open a little on its own. The feel of large, familiar masculine hands on your shoulders startled you; soft fingertips pushing your hair aside allowing luscious lips to kiss the back of your neck. You turned around and saw Frankie standing in the shower with you, his lips slightly parted, a few water droplets mapping his bare chest. His cock big and swollen, in need of attention.

"Hi, Baby." He grinned. "Stop ogling me. I need to kiss you now."

You didn't realize your head was cocked to one side, and you were smiling. "I'm not ogling you, My Love. I'd call it...admiring the craftsmanship."

He snorted, running both hands through his misty hair. "Craftsmanship, huh? Since you put it that way, I'll let you look a little longer."

You took a moment to admire him, your eyes slowly following his physique from head to toe. Damn, what a sight he is. His lean, virile 5'11" frame was held up by strong legs, long torso, wide shoulders, and most glorious neck. His hair is just past regulation length, unruly strands tickling his eyes. The subtle thickness of his waistline and uneven beard - perfect imperfections - making your heart swell with even more love for him. He's the most beautiful man you've ever seen. The kind of man you want to touch constantly but are afraid to do so; he's such an immaculate, delicate work of art.

You noticed he had a fresh, deep six-inch long scar on his left pectoral near his collarbone. You stepped closer to him, placing your fingertips next to the scar.

"Frankie! What is this?!" You tried to conceal the worry in your voice. "Did this happen on the mission? What happened?"

A plethora of scars decorated his chest, abdomen, arms, even on his hands. Cuts, scratches, and bruises of various shapes and sizes. This particular wound, however, looked recently inflicted, like it came from a blade.

"Don't worry about it" was his sharp response. He put his hands up in front of him. "Trust me, it's nothing major. A little mishap is all it is."

"Is every scar you have a mishap? Are they from.....her? What are you not telling me?"

You knew mentioning Erica would strike a nerve in him. You weren't intending to be crude; only genuinely concerned about what he'd been through, who or what had hurt him. He had mentioned nothing to you about being injured. There was evident pain behind his eyes.

He tensed up. Jaw clenched. Hands on hips. He licked his lips and swallowed hard.

"Baby, please. Don't. Now is not the time."

You put your hands on his face pushing his long bangs away from his eyes. His cheeks were red hot; it wasn't from the water temperature. "It's not my objective to trigger you, My Love. I'm just cur-"

"-I said drop it." His voice had become low and minatory. "I never discuss my scars with anyone, including you."

His words stung a little. You hung your head, your eyes now giving the floor attention. This is the man you love, your best friend. You want to know everything about him. Want him to feel comfortable pouring his heart out to you and tell you all his deepest, darkest secrets without judgment. As long as you've known him you knew he was never one to discuss feelings. You hoped being in an actual relationship with him would make him feel like an open book.

Frankie put a finger under your chin, lifting your gaze back to him. "I'm sorry, Baby. I didn't mean to snap at you." His voice returned its softness. "Believe me, I want to tell you about my scars as much as you want to know about them. I will. I promise. The time will come."

You nodded and smiled. "Yes, My Love. Understood."

"Please can I kiss you now?" His eyes bolted from your eyes to your lips. "Those lips are looking awfully lonely."

You laughed. "You don't have to ask."

Frankie gently pushed you up against the shower wall, enveloping your mouth in a passionate, desirous kiss. His hands were on your breasts, thumbs flicking across your nipples, fingers massaging the soft flesh. You both were now directly under the shower head, the warm water cascading down your faces, mixing with your lips and tongues. Ripples flooded your body when you felt his hard tip pressed against you, making you yearn for him even more.

"I missed you", he said between kisses. "I know I should've been here earlier. Fuckin' truck wouldn't start after I finally located it in the parking lot. Took me an hour to find someone to give me a boost."

You ran your hands through his hair. "I missed you too, My Love. I tried calling you several times. Every time you didn't answer I kept thinking something terrible happened to you."

His face was now in your neck. "I'm sorry, Baby. Besides my truck issues, I lost my damn charger at the airport. Couldn't find a replacement. Then the fuckin' phone died as soon as I hit the interstate." The irritation in his voice was apparent.

"My goodness, Love. Sounds like you've had a hell of a day. Let me give you what you need." You lifted one of your legs, wrapping it around his waist, moving your body closer to his trying to maneuver him inside of you. He pushed your leg down, laughing. "Needy little thing aren't you! But not yet, Baby. There's something else I'd like to do to you first."

You looked up at him, pouting and whimpering. He smirked, waving his index finger in front of your face and shaking his head. "No, none of that. We need to establish some rules. You must be a good girl, or you'll get nothing."

You raised an eyebrow. A faint, imperceptible smile overtook your lips. "Ooooh, rules, Frankie? To make sure I'm a good girl for you? I thought you liked my neediness."

His smirk grew wider. "Of course I do, Baby. But patience is a must. Good, obedient girls get rewarded. Bad girls get punished."

You shot him a deer-in-the-headlights look. "Punished? How? Frankie, what the hell are you talking about?"

He winked at you. "No time for explanations now. You'll find out later."

Before you could ask any more questions he dropped to his knees, pressing his hands on the inside of your thighs, pushing them further apart. His face was now inches from your pussy. You gasped when you realized what he had in mind.

"No! Not that!" You tried to push his head away. He looked up at you, brow furrowed. "No? Why not? If memory serves me correctly, didn't you say last time I was here you wanted us to do everything?" His expression relaxed, eyes full of concern. "Or...wait- is this not something you like?"

You turned away from his gaze, blushing. "I...actually- no one has ever performed it on me."

You felt ashamed for admitting to someone who sets your soul alight as much as Frankie does that you'd never had a man taste you.

He grinned, the darkness of his eyes deepening. "Is that so? Hmmm...." He rubbed his chin, one hand still on the inside of your thigh. "You know what I think? I think that's because you've never had a real man, Baby. All the guys you've dated are pussies. Pussies who don't eat pussy."

You giggled. He's such a smartass. But he wasn't wrong. None of your past relationships ever cared about pleasing you. It was always about what they wanted: pounding into you uncomfortably, flopping on top of you like a fish, climaxing within minutes and leaving you unsatisfied, unfulfilled. Frankie Morales was the complete opposite. He made you feel like your needs, your satisfaction, was more important than his own; as if his main goal was to take care of you. He was patient. He made you feel wanted.

"I've been thinkin' about this sweet pussy all day. Gotta taste it. Please, Baby, can I?" Rivers of shower water snaked their way down his face flattening his thick locks. His eyes still connected with yours.

Those damn puppy dog eyes.

He was quite aware of your inability to resist them; they made you absolutely weak. You nodded anxiously, realizing how foolish it was to deny him anything. Especially anything sexual. "Yes", you breathed. "Yes, My Love, please!"

Frankie spread your folds with two fingers, licking his lips. God, you were glistening. "Fuckin' look at that, would you. So prompt and prepared. So wet for me. Exactly how I like my girl to be." He circled his tongue around your clit -just once- before licking the inside of your folds, furiously lapping up your trickling arousal. Two fingers from his other hand pushed inside of you, curling, bending. You threw your hands into his hair letting out a long, plaintive whine.

"Fuckin' delicious," he breathed, not looking up. He took his fingers out, put them in his mouth, and inserted them back inside you. He moved them in and out while endlessly flicking his tongue across your clit, making you whine louder. He took his fingers out once more, but instead of putting them in his mouth, he put them in yours.

"Taste it," he demanded, moving them around the circumference of your mouth, now looking up at you. "Taste how sweet you are."

You followed orders, both hands gripping his forearm and wrist, wrapping your lips around his fingers. You swirled your tongue around the digits, bobbing your head up and down as if you were fellating him, all the while the two of you keeping eye contact.

"Fuck that's sexy." He took his fingers out of your mouth, put them in his own, savoring the taste briefly, and put them back in yours, instructing you to keep sucking. He turned his attention back to your pussy. You moaned and closed your eyes, feeling his tongue inside you moving up and down quickly. You sucked on his fingers harder; your hands gripping his wrist and forearm so tightly your knuckles were turning white. The feel of his tongue deep inside your hole, while he rubbed your clit with his other hand, made you nearly lose consciousness from the pleasure. So many things were happening to you at once; all your senses and emotions at play. You couldn't tell if the sounds you were hearing were yours or his. No coherent thought could be produced.

"Come on, Baby, show me," he said, swiping his tongue through your folds. "Show me - swipe - what - swipe - this pussy - swipe - can do."

The movements of his fingers against your clit quickened; his glorious tongue exploring every nook and cranny, no inch left untasted. The fingers previously your mouth now driving into your pussy at such speed your legs shook. He took his index finger and thumb and pinched your overstimulated clit, wrapping and sucking his lips around the sensitive bud.

"Frankie! What are you doing to me! Oh my God!"

Your body jolted as you felt a massive outpouring of your juices, reaching the pinnacle of desire. A loud wail trailed out of your throat; the pleasure hitting you like a freight train. You held your hands up near your face, shaking, trembling, looking down at the frenzy between your legs.

"Good girl! Best pussy I've ever tasted." He stood up, wiping your mess off his face - it was everywhere - with the back of his hand and licking it off. "That was fuckin' incredible. Gonna fuck you now. You earned it. Ready?"

You nodded, breathless, fighting for air after what you'd just experienced. "Pl-please. I'm always ready for you, My Love."

Your scenery changed in a flash. Frankie flipped you around to where you were now facing the shower wall; your stomach and chest pressed against the cold, wet tile. He stood behind you, his hands on your hips, his cock nudging your entrance.

"Put your palms against the wall, Baby. Stick your ass out. Spread those legs for me."

You followed instructions. He kept one hand on your hip, the other gripping your shoulder as he thrust into your drenched pussy with a low, rough grunt. He began pounding into you without giving you a chance to adjust to his length, knocking even more air out of your lungs.

"Fuck yes, Baby. This is how I always wanted to fuck you. All those nights I stayed over and fucked my fist to the thought of you. This is what I imagined us doing."

All you could do was close your eyes and moan at what you were hearing. You knew he jerked off many times when he spent the night at your apartment. He is a man, after all. But never in a million years did you think it was you getting him off.

"Frankie...oh fuck..." His thrusts were endless. You reached behind you to touch him, eager to feel hot, wet skin and muscle beneath your fingers. He grabbed your hand and pressed it back in its place against the wall.

"No, no, Baby. Keep your hands where I can see them."

Your eyes shot open as one of his great hands came in contact with your ass with a loud, wet slap, causing your body to lurch forward.

That's gonna leave a mark.

"Oh, shit!" You glanced back at him over your shoulder, keeping your hands in place.

"Umm....Frankie? What...was...that?"

"You know what it was." He slapped your ass again, this time on the other cheek. You squeezed your eyes shut and bit your lip as the pain bloomed across your body. You didn't want to admit it but the stinging sensation felt spectacular; so much better than the playful slaps he gave you when you were just friends.

"Fuck yes! More, Frankie, more! Please!"

"Ah, so you do like having your beautiful ass spanked. Filthy girl." He obliged, slapping your ass harder than before; his thrusts never ceasing. He still gripped your shoulder, fingers digging into your flesh. "Come on. Move, Baby, move," he demanded. "Don't make me do all the work."

You weren't exactly clear on what he meant at first, or what was bringing on this behavior. But you'd be damned if you denied you liked it. Your countless fantasies about him almost always involved him dominating you, spanking you, tying you up, making you beg for him, calling you dirty names, doing nasty, obscene, disgusting things to you, putting you in positions that would make even a contortionist shudder. In reality, your sweet Frankie would never be into such things. He would be downright embarrassed at what you wanted him to do to you.

Apparently, you were wrong.

You looked back at him, confused.

"I...I...don't...uh...what?"

Both hands moved to your sides and pulled you closer to him, making back and forth motions.

"Like this, Baby. Come on, don't be shy." His saccharine voice set your mind at ease. "Let me and help me take good care of you."

Realizing what he was asking you to do you rocked your body back into him, taking him fully all the way to the base; coarse, wet hairs tickling your ass. Frankie trailed his fingers up and down your spine; those large hands so soft it felt like he wasn't even touching you at all.

"Yeah, Baby. Just like that. Show me how I'm making you feel."

Your impassioned mewls and sighs increased as you moved back and forth faster, your ass crashing into his hips making him groan and pant. Even through the bellow of the falling water you could hear the inappropriate sounds of your wet bodies smacking against one another. You threw your head back, not caring that the tepid stream was hitting you directly in the face.

"Frankie...I've never done it this way...you feel...so...fucking...good."

His cock gliding against your walls, along with the fact he was doing things to you that you'd only dreamed about, had you gasping for the breath he had taken away from you.

"So do you, Baby. So goddamn tight. Jesus fuckin' Christ."

He coiled his hands through your hair giving it a gentle tug, looking down at the junction of your bodies. "God I missed this pussy. I never want to go this long without it again."

"Me too, My Love." You uttered a pleased hum. "God I love the way your cock feels inside of me. My pussy felt so empty without it."

He chuckled. "Tell me something, Baby. Do you always want to be fucked like this?"

Nodding was the only response you could give; words stolen by sobs and wails as he moved his hips against your ass faster.

"Did you mean it when you said you'd do anything for me?"

Nod.

"Were you being truthful in saying you'd always dreamed of belonging to me?"

Nod.

He slapped your ass once more, a hand still in your hair, making you shriek as he tugged harder.

"Words, Baby!" Slap. "Vocalize!" Slap. "I need to hear you say it!" Slap.

You were definitely going to have handprints on your ass later.

"Yes!" You wheezed. "My Love, Yes! I want to belong to you! Fucking own me!"

The way you moaned those last two words made him laugh. "You want me to own you, you say?"

"Yes!" you answered without hesitation. "In every sense of the word!"

His lips curled into a pleased smile. "Good girl. That's the answer I was expecting." He let go of your hair and spun you around to where you were now facing him.

"Hold on to me, Baby. It's okay, I got you." He placed his hands under your thighs and picked you up effortlessly, pinning you against the shower wall with his body. You wrapped your legs around his waist, your ankles crossed, one arm flung around his neck, the other clutching his shoulder. Within seconds he was back inside you fucking you like his life depended on it, his vigorous thrusting forcing your body up and down, lifting, falling. His face deposited in your neck, licking, kissing, sucking every inch of skin between your neck and shoulder. You tilted your head back, eyes closed, mouth open, desperate cries filling your tiny bathroom. You're so full of him, his cock so deep inside you touching every nerve, every tendril, every fiber, every corner. The head of him pressing the switch within you that made you lose all modesty, all control.

"Oh, God, yes! Harder, My Love! Harder!" You were basically shouting the words. "Fuck me like you own me!"

He growled and hissed in your ear as the brutality of his thrusts intensified. His fingers and hands squeezing your skin so tightly you were certain you'd be left with marks, bruises, fingerprints. The pain, the pleasure; it was all equally too much and not enough. It was fucking magnificent; leaving your mind in shambles.

"Yes, Baby, yes!" he panted. I fuckin' love hearing you talk this way. So fuckin' dirty."

He was now looking at you, eyes hazy with pleasure, mouth open. "Gonna cum soon, Baby. Where do you want it? Inside?"

"Yes!" You cried, locking your eyes with his. "You don't need permission! Just fuckin' do it! Cum inside me, please!"

A smile spread across his lips, a satisfied twinkle gleaming in his eye. "You are so fuckin' perfect, Baby, I swear. Fuckin' made for me." He put an index finger in his mouth and, without warning, pushed it repeatedly inside your asshole -while still fucking you into oblivion.

"Frankie!" You practically screamed his name. "That's...oh fuck...what the fuck! That's too much! I can't-"

"-You can take it, Baby. I know you can. Show me. Don't hold back."

No way was he going to make you cum twice. That was impossible; only something you'd seen in movies and TV. Something that always suspends your disbelief, making you scoff and roll your eyes. But this? Imminent. You were going to have multiple orgasms in one night for the first time ever in your life. Then he stuck another finger inside your ass. And that was it; the shot of adrenaline straight to the heart, the needle bursting the tiny pleasure-filled bubble in your stomach, the surge of electricity pulsing through your veins. You wrapped your arms tighter around his neck , fingertips kneading, clawing into the flesh of his back holding on for dear life.

Frankie gave one last forceful buck of his hips as he spilled into you, an orchestra of explicit noises and words coming from the both of you. You could feel the concoction of warm liquids between your thighs shooting up into you like fireworks. Your vision was now a swirling sea of unrecognizable colors. Your head collapsed on his shoulder, his chin on yours, chests heaving against each other's, breaths coming and going in quick intervals.

"I love you so much, Frankie" you finally managed to say after what seemed like an eternity of silence. "You make me feel things I had no idea I could feel."

You felt him smile against your neck. "I love you too, Baby. I always knew I'd be the one to broaden your horizons."

You embraced him tighter running your hands up and down his back. "I never wanted anyone like this. It's all brand new to me."

"Likewise, Baby." Frankie removed his hands from the back of your thighs and set you on your feet. You felt like a newborn fawn, legs wobbly, unable to keep your balance. You both laughed as you held on to his forearms for support until you could stand on your own. He shut the water off and opened the sliding glass door, stepping out onto the white feathery bath mat.

"Meet me in the living room after you're dressed," he said as he grabbed a towel off the bathroom door hook and gathered his clothes off the floor. "I have a surprise for you."

**************************

After changing into leggings and a spaghetti-strap shirt, you found Frankie sitting on the sofa, his phone in one hand, thumb swiping up and down in quick strokes, dark bottle of beer in the other taking long swigs, eyes never leaving the device screen. His jeans were zipped but unbuttoned, unfastened belt hanging loosely between his legs. His red T-shirt clung to his still-damp skin, portraying each sculpted muscular detail, his moist capless hair an unkempt mess, strands pointing in every direction. You stood at the end of the hallway watching him, leaning your shoulder against the wall, staring, struggling to process what had just taken place in your shower. You had difficulty wrapping your head around the fact that it actually happened; not in one of your fantasy scenarios. Frankie Morales, who you've wanted since the first day you laid eyes on him, was now your lover, your partner; your companion. The one who showed you pleasures you didn't know you wanted or needed. The one who unlocked your passion and freed your mind to explore the depths of your darkest sexual desires.

Your lover. That sounded so forbidden, so taboo.

Frankie looked up from his phone and gave you a smile, his eyes lighting up when he saw you. "There's my girl. You disappeared from me. I didn't think you'd come back." He took another sip of beer and set the bottle on the coffee table. "Come on over here so I can give you your surprise."

You took the empty seat next to him. He reached into his duffel bag and pulled out a small, flat purple gift box wrapped in pink ribbon and placed it in your hands.

"This is for you, Baby. Open it."

"You bought me a gift?"

He nodded, his eyes wide and full of anticipation, an anxious smile across his lips. "Of course. You're my girl. I need to spoil you."

Inside was a thin, black leather choker necklace adorned with numerous diamond-shaped crystals. A sterling silver heart pendant hung from a small chain on the facade, and it fastened like a belt in the back. You didn't wear much jewelry, earrings occasionally. He knew this, which made it a little unclear as to why this would be a gift choice. But you found it to be beautiful. Elegant. Racy.

After a few moments it hit you; the purpose of the gift. You were his. He owns you. You belong to him. He wants it to be shown.

"Frankie, it's lovely. But...I don't wear neck-."

"-You do now," he interrupted. "I want you to wear it as a symbol of my ownership of you. You want to be mine in every possible way? Wearing this necklace will seal that deal."

You stared at the piece of jewelry in your hands, trying to believe what you had just heard; your mind devoid of words.

He scooted closer to you, putting a hand under your chin, forcing your eyes to meet his. "If you think it's excessive, Baby, you don't-"

"-Yes", you answered. "I'll wear it and I'll never take it off. Whatever it takes to make you happy, My Love, I'll do it." You took the accessory out of its box, ready to put it on. Frankie eagerly took it from your hands, his eyes lighting up. "Please, let me do it."

He leaned forward reaching across you to fasten the choker, his cheek brushing against yours, lips next to your ear. "You know what this means, don't you?" He whispered once the necklace was fully around your neck. A hand trailed down your body, between your legs, inside your panties. "This pussy-this body-is mine now." His fingers started rubbing at your clit, making you cry out. "I can do whatever I want with it. Clear?"

You nodded, eyes fluttering closed. "Fraaannnkkkiiiiieeee..."

"Remember those rules I mentioned earlier?" His lips were still against your ear. "About being a good girl and getting punished for being bad? You must follow them now that you're wearing this necklace. You must obey."

He slipped a finger inside you, moving the digit so rapidly you could hear the vulgar squelching noises, making you squirm. You grabbed his arm. "Frankie!" you moaned. "Yes! I'll do whatever you say, My Love! I'm all yours!"

He grinned, his eyes rich with contentment. His lips crashed into yours, tongue delving into your mouth. Your arms found their way around his neck, your legs moving onto the sofa so you could lie on your back outstretched. Frankie lowered himself onto you, positioning himself between your legs, still dressed, lips never leaving yours, still fingering you like it would be a crime if he stopped, making you hum and whimper. The other hand caressed your still-clothed thigh and leg.

"Gonna cum for me again, are you, Baby?" he asked against your lips. "Are you gonna squirt all over my-"

There was a knock at the door, making Frankie stop the delicious makeout session and look up in confusion. He looked down at you, also perplexed.

"Expecting company?"

You shook your head.

Another knock, this time much louder.

"Want me to see who it is?"

"No, I'll get it." You stood up and made your way to the door located right next to the sofa. You opened it, and the color drained out of your face. Your heart sank.

There she was. Fucking. Erica. Hands pressed on her hips, looking as perfectly put together as always. Black hair, flawless makeup, tight dress, menacing green eyes. The only difference from when you last saw her was now she looked like there had been way too much time spent in a tanning bed and too many collagen injections in her lips. She impatiently tapped her high-heeled foot on the outside concrete floor, her mouth sewn into an angry frown.

"Where is he?" Her voice was eerily stern, lacking emotion. "I know Francisco is here somewhere. Where the fuck is he?!"

You put your finger up. "First of all, Erica, hello to you too. Second, don't come at me with that attitude. Third, what makes you think he would be here?"

Erica rolled her eyes, huffing out an annoyed sigh. "Because his fucking truck is parked out front, dumbass."

"Don't you fuckin' dare speak to her like that." Frankie growled as he walked up next to you, casually throwing his arm around your shoulder pulling you closer to him. "You lookin' for me, Erica? Well, here I am. The hell do you want?"

Erica's eyes switched between you and Frankie, looking you both up and down, noticing your still wet locks, flushed cheeks, his shirt worn inside out and unbuttoned jeans. She shook her head, her eyes on the ground, sarcastic laughter seeping through her lips.

"Unbelievable. Un-fucking-believable. You two fucked, didn't you?"

Frankie cleared his throat. "You shouldn't ask questions to which you know the answers."

She cut her eyes to you. "I suppose you think he's your boyfriend now? That he loves you?"

"Erica, I'm not gonna ask you again." Frankie piped in before you could give her an answer. "Why. The. Fuck. Are. You. Here?"

His acerbic tone made you take a step an inch away but he still kept his arm on your shoulder. You looked at him while he kept his eyes on Erica. His brow furrowed, lips pursed, jaw tightened, veins in his neck made their appearance, heavy breathing commenced through his nose. His other hand formed into a fist.

Erica pointed a manicured accusatory finger at him. "You. You son-of-a-bitch. You and I need to talk."

(To Be Continued....)

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