unholyxthoughts

[unholyxthoughts]

The Hoodoo Apprentice

Summary: Amelia packed her things and took a train to Clarksdale Mississippi to reunite with an old friend, Annie. Annie promised she’d teach Amelia the art of Hoodoo. After a month, Smoke and Stack return with a plan to open a Juke Joint.

Warnings: SMUT

Part 5.1: This will be written in two parts because of length and detail!

They say fairies don’t feel guilt. That we glitter, giggle, and flit away from consequences like moths from flame. But I remember the way he looked at me—his mouth open in a half-smile, a question dying in his throat—before the room cracked open with light. And then silence. And smoke. And nothing.

So I ran. All the way to Mississippi, where the air is thick and memories can’t follow…

The Day The Truth Surfaced…

The earth smelled sweet before the sun rose. Not like New Orleans—no rot or river breath—but something deeper. Rooted. Green. Like a place that meant to hold you.

Amelia pressed her fingers into the dirt beside a rosemary bush and exhaled slow. A storm had passed the night before. The air was still swollen from it. Leaves glistened. A tomato vine lay broken on its side, too heavy with fruit to stay upright. She knelt to tie it gently, careful not to crush the stalk. Barefoot, in a cotton slip damp at the hem, her knees tucked in the soft dirt, she looked like part of the garden herself.

But inside?

Inside, she glowed.

Not a warmth you could see, not yet. But the kind that lived in her chest and behind her eyes. A soft spark that hadn’t gone quiet since Mound Bayou.

“I thought I was careful,” she whispered to herself, looping twine around the vine, “I didn’t mean to pull nobody in.”

But she had. Annie. Smoke. Even Stack—especially Stack.

That night in Mound Bayou had cracked her wide open.

She closed her eyes and let the memory drift up.

The heat of Smoke’s mouth on her skin.

Annie’s soft moan between her shoulder blades.

The weight of his body, the way he groaned her name like it hurt him.

The way they held her like she was a secret too sweet to speak out loud.

It hadn’t just been sex.

It was something tethered, something claimed.

And she felt it now, days later—like fire running under her ribs, warm and slow…

It started with laughter.

That warm kind that lingers in the corners of a hotel room long after the sound fades. Amelia could still hear it when she closed her eyes. Annie’s low, throaty chuckle, the kind she only let out when she was tipsy and happy. Smoke’s rare, softened smile. Her own small laugh, quiet and unsure.

They’d gone to Mound Bayou for rest. A night away from the pull of Clarksdale. Annie called it a “reset”— a little spell in motion. She wanted new perfume, new silk, a new memory to wrap around the bones of their tangled lives.

Amelia remembered stepping into Francesca’s boutique, the scent of vanilla and cedar thick in the air. She remembered Annie pulling her behind a curtain, pressing a deep red slip against her frame.

“This would melt off you,” Annie whispered.

And she’d been right.

The hotel was owned by a Black family—carved from wood and red brick, warm with lamps and iron balconies that caught the moonlight just right.

Their room was on the second floor. It had one bed.

Amelia sat on its edge, legs tucked beneath her, while Smoke stood at the window, puffing on a cigarette. The scent of bourbon and musk clung to his open shirt. Annie moved around the room with ease—fluffing pillows, humming to herself, already shedding layers of clothing like she couldn’t stand anything between her and skin.

Amelia watched them both with glittering eyes. She didn’t know where she belonged in that moment. She wanted both. Needed both.

“You alright, sugar?” Annie asked, already in her slip, curls damp from a bath.

Amelia nodded, though her heart beat too fast.

Smoke turned around. Looked at her for too long.

Then Annie crossed the room and touched her face, thumb tracing her cheek, and Amelia breathed again.

The first kiss was Annie’s.

The second was Smoke’s.

They didn’t rush her. They never had.

But once she said yes—once she leaned into Annie’s mouth and let her knees fall open beneath Smoke’s unnaturally steady hands—everything changed.

Smoke fucked her first.

His hands were rough but reverent. His mouth was pillow soft and ticklish at her collarbone, her thighs, the inside of her wrist. He kissed her like he was afraid of breaking her, but wanted to learn her shape by memory. All of this was by Annie’s command. Annie enjoyed watching. She’d spread her generous thighs and rub on her pussy while instructing Smoke on how to fuck Ameila. How to eat her. How to kiss her.

And Smoke would oblige with a dick as hard as steel.

She remembered how he tasted—like tobacco and heat.

How he held her hips in his large hands.

How his breath caught when he slid inside her.

“God damn,” he whispered, forehead pressed to hers, “feel like I’m sankin’ my dick in warm honey…fuck…You feel like sin… and Sunday.”

Annie didn’t leave them—she stayed close, kissing Amelia’s mouth as Smoke moved, guiding their rhythm. Annie sat behind Amelia while Smoke fucked her missionary. He preferred to take Amelia from behind, but Annie wanted to watch the way his big dick thrust in and out of Amelia’s wet pussy.

They held her between them—her skin slick, breathless, glowing.

“That’s it, Elijah…fuck her good…give that pussy what she want…she hungry, Papa…she want some of that big dick…look how she creaming…feel good? Push her legs back some more…uh-huh…dig deeper…make her feel it…don’t be afraid to give her all ya’ inches, Elijah…she can take it…”

Smoke planted his fits against the bed and locked lips with Annie while Amelia whimpered beneath him. He bottomed out in her and groaned against Annie’s mouth. Amelia’s glossy eyes stared up at Annie’s heavy, sagging breasts and the way their tongues flicked and swirled around each other’s.

“Annie…he’s so deep…” Amelia cried out with a faint sigh.

“Fuck her like that pussy belong to you and not Elias…”

Those words hit Amelia like a freight train. It hit Smoke just the same if not harder. His dick seemed to grow wider in girth, stretching Amelia open so wide she almost cried.

A gasp ripped through her, half-moan, half-stunned cry. Her back arched instinctively, fingers clawing at the sweat-slick sheets beneath her, the bed frame groaning like it might break with them. He was too much. Too thick, too deep. She swore she felt him in her belly.

“Easy,” he murmured, voice gritty with restraint, staring down at her. His breath was hot, panting, “You too tight, sugar. Gotta breathe.”

But she couldn’t.

“Told you, Melia, you gotta take it…you took it so well last night…what happened, baby?”

He fit inside of her and Amelia clawed at his slick biceps. Annie rubbed her hair to soothe her.

And when they collapsed into one another—a knot of limbs and quiet moans, the record player whispering blues from the next room—Amelia felt something she didn’t know how to hold.

Not just pleasure.

Not even love.

But belonging.

And that terrified her more than anything.

The garden shimmered faintly around her.

Now, back in the garden days later, her fingers trembling in the dirt, Amelia could still feel his hands on her hips. Annie’s lips at her shoulder. The weight of being wanted by both—held between devotion and desire.

“They weren’t just in my bed,” she thought, “They were in my magic. I pulled them in… and now I don’t know how to let go.”

She opened her eyes, glanced down at her arm. For a moment, she could swear her skin glinted just faintly, like mica caught in sunlight.

“Not here,” she murmured, “Not now.”

She sat back on her heels, wiping her fingers on the front of her skirt. Her breath moved through her slow.

The way Annie had taught her.

The way her grandmother once whispered, too deep in the bayou, when her fae threatened to spark wild.

“Breathe like the wind don’t know you there. Breathe like fire gone to sleep.”

But the wind did know she was there.

It moved through the garden like it had questions.

And in her gut, she felt it—something shifting. A tug on the thread she’d been trying to keep loose. Not danger, not yet.

But conflict.

Longing.

A future she didn’t know how to stop.

She rose, brushed dirt from her thighs, and looked toward the house.

Smoke would be waking soon.

Annie might already be watching.

She turned her face to the sky and whispered to the morning.

“Don’t burn nothing today.”

And went inside.

The pulse under her skin changed.

It wasn’t just the usual flicker of her feu follet. It was… older. Sharper. Like a key turning in a lock she hadn’t known was there.

She shut her eyes. Breathed through her teeth.

And that’s when she saw it:

Annie, turned away from her, tears in her eyes.

Smoke, standing in the rain, lighting a cigarette with shaking fingers covered in blood.

Stack, kneeling before a grave she couldn’t recognize.

Herself, barefoot in the road, crying. Glowing too bright.

Her eyes snapped open. The thyme trembled in front of her.

“No,” she whispered, “Not now. Not yet.”

The visions had always come like that—in flashes. In warnings.

Her grandmother once said, “fire that sees too far burns too much.”

But this was new. Bolder. Clearer.

It wasn’t just her fae nature. Something in her was opening.

“A seer,” she breathed, lips dry, “Fae fire’s waking somethin’ else in me.”

She didn’t want it.

But it was coming anyway.

She stood slowly, pressing her hand to her belly like she could hold herself together from the inside out.

She thought of the first jar.

The one she buried deep under the floorboards in New Orleans, then packed and carried in her trunk when she fled.

The Nathaniel jar.

It had been meant to sweeten him—to draw him gently toward her.

But the love turned heavy. Sticky. Possessive.

She’d made it with honey, golden and rich. Damiana leaf, for passion. A piece of his sermon cloth, soaked in cologne. Her own fingernail, trimmed during a full moon

What she didn’t understand then—what she sees now—is that magic made in grief and hunger stays hungry.

“That jar don’t wanna die,” she said softly, “Even with him gone, it still wants…someone.”

It stirred every time she touched someone who reminded her of Nathaniel.

Smoke’s quiet control.

Stack’s commanding presence.

Even Annie’s pull.

It’s a jar that lingers. Still warm with unfinished want.

But then there’s the second jar.

This one she made weeks ago, in a fit of quiet ache, alone after a long bath.

She felt empty.

So she made a jar not to seduce, but to soothe.

Its contents were humble. Clover—for peace and soft attention. Honey—because she was lonely. Tobacco ash —to quiet the ache. A lock of her own hair—snipped while thinking about longing

She whispered into it.

“Bring me sweetness. Bring me warmth. Bring me something that don’t want to leave.”

She thought it was harmless.

But now?

Now she isn’t so sure.

Five Days Earlier…

Smoke sat back in the porch rocker, the old wood creaking beneath his weight as he watched the world unfold slow in front of him. He wore a white tank beneath a short sleeved, black button down shirt and dark denim pants with patches and distressed around the ankles. The sky was high and bright, the trees swaying gently like they had nowhere else to be. A cigarette burned between his fingers, curling smoke trailing lazily up toward the porch ceiling.

He hadn’t been able to sleep right since Mound Bayou.

Not because of guilt. Not really.

It was something else.

Need.

Every time he closed his eyes, he saw her. Amelia. The way she arched beneath him. The way her voice caught when he slid inside. The shine on her lips when she moaned his name like it meant something.

“Elijah,” she’d whispered, breathless, “You feel so good inside of me…”

He exhaled slow, smoke curling around his jaw like a noose. The memory coiled in his chest—hot, aching, alive.

Annie had given him permission. Said it was alright.

“Give her what she needs.”

But that was in the moment.

In the fire.

Now that the heat had passed, all that remained was the weight of what came next.

Because now?

He wanted her again.

And again.

And not just when Annie was around.

He ground the cigarette out on the porch rail. Lit another.

He hadn’t meant to want Amelia this way.

At first, he’d just watched her from a distance—curious, cautious.

Annie trusted her. Loved her, even. So he tried to do the same.

But the more he stayed near, the more her pull crept into him.

Not just her looks. Not just the way her hips swayed or her laugh sounded like warm sugar.

It was something…underneath.

A pull. A heat. A hum.

He didn’t know hoodoo well. Didn’t put full stock in Annie’s charms. But he knew when something wasn’t natural.

And Amelia?

She didn’t feel like any woman he’d ever touched before.

Even after talking to Stack about what’s been going on since he’d been out of town after he picked them up from the train station, he could even sense it himself.

“You still feel her, don’t you?”

Stack’s voice echoed in his memory. A question from earlier that morning.

Smoke didn’t answer.

He wasn’t the type to talk about feelings. Hell, he barely spoke if it wasn’t necessary.

But he felt it.

That getaway in Mound Bayou hadn’t satisfied anything. It had woken something.

Something he wasn’t sure he could put back to sleep.

And then there was Stack.

The way his brother looked at Amelia lately—grinning, cocky, bold.

It was different than before.

Hungrier. Deeper.

Smoke didn’t know if Stack had touched her since they got back, but he could feel it brewing.

And the worst part?

He wasn’t sure if he had a right to care.

“She ain’t yours”, he told himself, “She was never yours.”

But his chest said otherwise. His body still remembered her heat.

And every time she passed, humming to herself, smelling like rosewater and peaches?

His hands clenched at his sides.

He leaned back in the chair, staring out at the coming storm. Clouds rolled slow and dark. The scent of rain curled in the wind. But despite all of that, the sun still showed its strength.

“I said I wouldn’t touch her again unless Annie was there,” he murmured to himself.

His voice was low. Gravel-rough.

“So why the hell do I feel like I’m about to break that promise?”

Inside the house, he heard Amelia laugh at something Stack said.

His jaw tightened.

He stayed on the porch.

But the fire inside him?

Refused to go cold.

“Glad you bought somethin’ sexy for me to take off that body…that red slip was Annie’s idea? Bless that sister of mine…”

Through the screen door, he could see his brother crouched inside with Amelia, the two of them laughing soft and close. Stack had that rare, mischievous smile on his face—the kind that reached his eyes—and in his hand, he held a velvet green box. Amelia’s bare legs were tucked under her, one delicate foot stretched toward him, her curls spilling down her back like dark syrup.

Stack sat on his knees, towering over Amelia as she sat on her butt. Stack wore a pair of jeans with some boots and a white T-shirt that clung to his biceps like plaster. A black fedora was tipped back on his head, giving a tease of his freshly slicked hair. His eyes glittered with mischief and the dimples in his cheeks deepened with every syllable he uttered.

Amelia looked like a gypsy—a silk, patterned scarf over her wild curls, a white dress that cinched at the waist and hung from her slender shoulders, and bare feet. Her ears were adorned with little pearls that Smoke purchased from Mound Bayou. It was more so a ‘thank you’ gift for being Annie’s happiness while he was away. They looked pretty on her. Smoke’s eyes drifted to her sweaty, bronze skin before looking away.

Stack watched her with that sly smile that made her belly stir. His hands were hidden behind his back, but his posture was too relaxed, too guilty. Mischief danced in his dark eyes.

Amelia narrowed hers, “What you hidin’?”

Stack just raised a brow, didn’t answer. His voice dropped into a lazy drawl. “Why you always so nosy, huh? Can’t a man keep a little surprise to himself?”

She scooted closer, batting her lashes up at him, “You got somethin’ for me?”

“Maybe.” He grinned, the dimple in his cheek cutting deep, “But you gotta behave.”

She gasped, reaching for the hand behind his back.

Stack jerked away playfully, circling her like a wolf teasing its mate, “Uh uh. Nosy and grabby? That ain’t how this works.”

“Stack,” she giggled, giving a small stomp with her bare foot. “Now you playin’.”

Smoke couldn’t hear every word, but he caught enough.

“You’re so sneaky!”

“Damn right I am,” he said, inching in closer until their noses almost touched. “Now close your eyes for me, bébé. Be good so I can give it to you proper.”

“Stack—”

“Close your eyes, girl. C’mon now…”

Amelia eyed him suspiciously, but the soft heat in his voice made her heart flutter. She obeyed, lashes lowering, lips parting with a whisper of a smile.

Stack moved slowly, pulling the small jade-colored velvet box from behind his back. He opened it just enough to see the glint of the gold catching the warm afternoon light—a delicate anklet, fine and glimmering, with a tiny cursive A dangling at the center.

She felt him crouch low, his breath brushing over her skin. Her toes curled in anticipation.

“Alright,” he murmured, “You can look now.”

Her eyes fluttered open. She gasped, hand flying to her mouth. “Oh, Stack…”

When Stack slipped the anklet around her ankle and fastened the tiny clasp, she gasped, her hands flying to her mouth. Her face lit up—genuine, flushed, sweet.

Elijah didn’t look away, he just smoked, slow and thoughtful. Folks had been drawn to Amelia since she showed up. There was a softness to her, sure, but something else underneath it too. Something none of them could name. He’d felt it himself—pulling at him like a string tied to his ribs.

The gold anklet sparkled in the light, catching the soft brown of her skin like a whisper of sunlight wrapped around her ankle. The A swayed gently as he fastened the clasp with large, steady fingers, careful and reverent, his touch a kind of worship.

Stack sat back on his heels, admiring his work. “Perfect,” he said, voice rougher now, gaze climbing up her legs. “A for Amelia. My sweet girl.”

Amelia blushed, cheeks warm as peaches, her lips trembling with a smile too big to contain, “You got this in town?”

He nodded. “The Delta got more than good food, you know. Saw it sittin’ there like it knew it belonged on you.”

She dropped down, arms circling his neck in one sudden motion. “You are…the sweetest damn man I ever met, Elias Moore.”

He caught her, laughed low in his throat. “Shh. Don’t ruin my reputation. My big brother out front. Can’t have him thinkin’ I’m a softy—”

She kissed him—soft at first, grateful and tender. Then deeper, longer, lips melting into his like honey off the comb. Stack groaned into her mouth, his hands sliding down the curve of her back until they found the swell of her behind.

He gripped it hard, then gave one cheek a firm squeeze, then a light slap. She squealed into his mouth, body arching against him.

“You tryna rile me up, girl?”

“I ain’t do nothin’ but kiss you…”

“And that’s all it ever takes,” He slapped again, this time slower, the sound echoing in the warm hush of Annie’s home, “You kiss me like that and I forget where I am.”

She pulled back just enough to whisper, eyes half-lidded, voice a velvet hush, “Then don’t remember. Just stay right here.”

Stack kissed her again, deeper this time, the anklet catching a ray of gold light as her legs wrapped around him and he lifted her off the floor.

The velvet box tumbled to the side—forgotten. The A on her ankle sparkled like a secret spell.

Smoke heard footsteps.

His eyes were fixed on the path.

She was coming.

Annie Moore.

She moved like molasses sliding down warm bread, slow and sure, like every step had purpose. Her hips rolled in a steady rhythm beneath a faded mustard-yellow skirt, cinched high at her waist with a knot of thick cotton. The fabric clung to the swell of her backside, catching a whisper of breeze as she walked. Her blouse was thin and ivory-colored, damp at the neck and under her full breasts with sweat, fabric pulled just a little tight where it hugged her curves. The buttons down the front strained at her chest, and one had come undone, just enough for a glimpse of the soft brown cleavage below. She had tied a rust-colored sash around her waist like a belt, making her hourglass shape impossible to ignore.

A wide straw hat shaded her face, but not enough to dim the richness of her skin—deep, sun-kissed brown with golden undertones, glowing like burnished copper beneath the summer light. Beads of sweat dotted her collarbone, and her ankles peeked out beneath her skirt as she climbed the road barefoot, dust clinging to her feet.

Smoke’s throat tightened.

His gaze slid over her like water over stone—slow, reverent, and hungry. He studied the sway of her thighs, the gentle bounce of her breasts under the blouse, the stretch of her skirt across her hips. Her body was thick, plush, womanly in all the ways that made him ache. She looked like she could hold storms and comfort and lust all at once. And she did.

She was Mississippi heat—humid, lush, heavy.

The trees lining the road bowed low with the weight of the season, their branches arching above her like they were drawn in by her gravity, bending with unseen devotion. Leaves rustled softly as if whispering her name. The light filtered through them dappled gold, painting her shoulders with moving shadows.

She saw him watching.

Even from that distance, her eyes met his, slow and knowing. She didn’t pick up her pace—no, Annie never rushed for a man. Instead, she smiled, lazy and deep, lips painted a dusky blackberry-red from some root-stained balm she mixed herself.

Smoke tipped his head and smirked, his chest lifting with something he couldn’t name. He looked like a man watching his favorite sin walk toward him.

She lifted her hand and blew him a kiss.

He caught it out the air like it was gospel.

“Come here, woman,” he said under his breath, barely a whisper, but it floated out over the porch like a spell.

She climbed the steps with grace despite the sweat, despite the heat, and the second she got close enough, he reached out and pulled her to him. The screen door rattled behind them as her body pressed against his, soft and full against his slightly taller frame.

Their mouths met—wet, deep, familiar. Not rushed. Like they’d done this a thousand times, but this time still mattered.

Smoke’s hands slid around her waist, palms dragging up the curve of her spine, down over her thick hips, gripping her like he needed reminding that she was real. His hands pressed into her skirt, fingers spreading over her ass, slow and claiming. She tasted like salt and sassafras, and her scent—clove, lemon balm, and something earthy he could never name—was all around him now.

She gasped into his mouth and leaned her forehead against his.

“You missed me that bad?” she whispered.

“I missed you like hell,” he murmured back, “Like my hands ain’t know what to do without ya’ to hold.”

She smiled against his lips. “Then hold on, baby.”

Behind them, the screen door creaked open.

“Aight now,” Stack’s voice called out, playful but loud, “I said lunch is ready, not foreplay on the porch.”

Annie pulled back, laughing, breathless and warm, “We was just gettin’ our appetite right.”

Smoke let his hand slide slow off her backside and called back, “What ya’ll make?”

“Catfish sandwiches with chow-chow and pickled onions. Collard greens on the side. Got watermelon chillin’ and sweet tea pourin’. Y’all comin’ or not?”

Annie turned to look inside. She could see Amelia blushing through the screen, one leg curled under her, ankle sparkling with a gold charm. Stack leaned in beside her, watching them both with a grin on his face.

Annie caught her breath, eyes narrowing slightly—but not out of jealousy. Just… curiosity. Something tugged at the air between them all, thick and restless.

Smoke watched her face and asked, low, “What is it?”

She shook her head slow. “Nothin’. Just…air feel different all of a sudden.”

He touched her cheek, thumb brushing her jaw, “Don’t matter. Long as you standin’ in it wit’ me.”

They walked into the house together, hand in hand, while the shadows behind them shifted like they knew something the rest hadn’t yet learned.

The air inside the house was thick with the smell of fried catfish and spices—hot oil, cornmeal, cayenne, and a hint of vinegar from the chow-chow cooling on the counter. The table in the center of the room was already halfway set with heavy plates and chipped porcelain bowls. Sunlight slanted through the open window, striping the floorboards like a ladder to something holy.

Amelia moved with grace between the kitchen and dining table, her dress now topped with a lightweight apron, curls still wild around her flushed cheeks. Stack watched her go, the sway of her hips, the way her gold anklet caught glints of light like it had a heartbeat of its own.

Smoke pulled a chair out, then went back for forks.

“You didn’t say much about Mound Bayou,” Stack said, casually, as he laid out the thick drinking glasses.

Smoke gave a faint grunt, noncommittal.

Stack raised a brow, “That bad?”

Smoke shot him a sideways glance, one corner of his mouth twitching. “Nah. That good.”

Stack paused, still holding a handful of cutlery.

The silence hung a second too long.

Smoke didn’t elaborate. Didn’t have to. The way he leaned back against the wall, cigarette now extinguished, eyes half-lidded like he was still dreaming of something soft, told enough of the story.

Stack gave a sharp, single nod—quiet and unreadable. But behind his calm face, something churned. Smoke knew it too. He could feel it through the air between them, that unspoken thread only twins shared. Stack wasn’t asking for conversation. He was asking whether something shifted. Whether Mound Bayou changed something between them all.

Smoke’s eyes met his brother’s again, harder now. It did, they said without words. But don’t ask me what.

He moved past him to the table, brushing Stack’s shoulder with a quiet finality.

At the counter, Annie was helping Amelia place the catfish sandwiches on a wooden tray. Amelia arranged each one with care, lining up slices of cornbread buns and pressing the pickled onions down with her fingers. She was still glowing—lit from within.

Annie leaned in close, her voice low, coaxing. “After lunch, we’ll head back to the shop, alright? We ain’t done with that drawing lesson yet.”

Amelia glanced up, her doe eyes curious. “Drawing?”

Annie smiled. “Mmhmm. Love drawing. Honey jars, sugar cones, follow-me spells. You gotta know how to build a jar that speaks without sayin’ a word. Yours pull somethin’ in already—I can feel it. But I want you to understand why. There’s spirit in the building. You feel it?”

Amelia nodded softly, but her breath caught when Annie reached to brush a stray curl from her face.

Annie’s eyes dropped to her ankle. “That’s real pretty,” she murmured, kneeling slightly, fingers ghosting just above the golden anklet.

The A charm shimmered like it had caught sunlight, though no ray touched it. For a moment, a shimmer pulsed from the charm outward—like heat rising off pavement, a soft flicker of energy, invisible to most but thick enough to make the hairs on Annie’s arms rise.

Her lips parted.

Something in her gut twisted—not fear, exactly, but an ancient kind of knowing. Like her blood remembered something her mind couldn’t name.

Annie blinked, shook it off, and stood quickly. “Mmm,” she said, clearing her throat, “I like that shine.”

Amelia, ever perceptive, felt the shift. Her smile faltered just slightly.

“I’ll bring the tea,” she said, almost too quickly, turning and slipping away from the moment.

Annie stared after her for a beat, chewing the inside of her cheek. Her eyes flicked once more to the anklet, then toward Stack—who was watching Amelia too closely—and then to Smoke, who wasn’t watching at all but felt everything.

She shook her head and carried the tray to the table.

“Let’s eat before this fish gets cold,” she said, her voice bright but slightly strained.

Amelia set down the pitcher of sweet tea and took her seat, carefully folding her hands in her lap. Stack sat across from her. Smoke poured Annie a glass of tea before pouring his own. For a moment, the only sound was the clinking of glasses and the rustle of napkins. The charm on Amelia’s ankle swayed as she crossed her legs beneath the table.

The sunlight seemed to lean in, too.

Watching. Listening. Waiting.

Something had shifted.

But no one yet had the words to speak it.

The catfish was crispy and golden, the chow-chow tangy and sweet. A bowl of collard greens sat steaming beside a plate of sliced watermelon, their red centers glistening. Smoke bit into his sandwich with slow satisfaction, licking a smear of hot sauce from his thumb. Across the table, Stack leaned back in his chair, toothpick stuck between his lips, one elbow on the table as he talked business.

“So we meet ‘em at the old cotton press, out past the levee,” Stack was saying, tearing off a piece of cornbread with thick fingers. “They’re bringin’ a truck, say they got buyers lined up from Memphis to Vicksburg. Cash in hand. All we gotta do is hand off the shine.”

Smoke nodded, chewing slow. “We takin’ the last barrels from the juke’s cellar?”

“Yeah. That batch aged good. Real smooth. Better than the stuff we been sellin’ to Johnson.”

“Alright. You loadin’ tonight?”

“Late,” Stack said, pausing to sip his tea, “You ridin’ with me?”

Smoke glanced at Amelia and Annie for half a beat, then back to Stack, “Yeah. I’ll be there.”

As his brother spoke, Smoke felt something warm press lightly against his leg.

He blinked once.

Ankles tangled under the table. He looked down—Amelia’s foot was sliding softly over his calf. Her bare toes curled against his slacks, teasing up the fabric.

Across from her, Annie was calm as a still lake, one hand resting on the table near her glass, the other… slipping low beneath the linen.

Smoke exhaled through his nose, quiet and slow.

Annie’s hand found the bulge beneath the table. Soft pressure. She stroked him through the fabric with practiced ease, fingers slow, teasing. Her touch was firm enough to make him shift slightly in his seat but subtle enough not to draw attention.

Stack kept talking, “We’ll leave the juke front lookin’ clean. Don’t want nobody sniffin’ around. Just music, drinks, same as always.”

Smoke grunted his agreement, but his jaw clenched as Annie’s hand kept moving—her nails grazing lightly, then flattening her palm against his length. Under the table, Amelia’s foot moved higher, pressing against his thigh with the same sweetness that lingered in her voice.

He gave her a sideways look.

She smiled at him—demure, unreadable.

Lord help me, he thought.

The air had thickened, gone heavy with heat and honey. Flies buzzed faintly near the window, the watermelon juice glistened like rubies on porcelain, and everyone was pretending not to feel what was very much being felt.

Finally, Stack stood up and stretched, toothpick between his teeth.

“I’m headin’ into town. Need to check on that shipment at the depot ‘fore we meet our contact later. I’ll grab the papers for the handoff.”

Smoke wiped his mouth, grateful for the excuse to breathe, “I’ll go too. We’ll ride back together and stash what’s needed.”

Annie stood as well, gathering plates, “Me and Amelia headin’ to the shop after we clean up. Got some more lessons to go over.”

Stack nodded, already heading for the door.

Smoke stepped in behind Annie just as she reached for the pitcher to rinse it. His presence settled against her back like a shadow stretching into dusk—warm, broad, unmistakable.

He leaned in, lips brushing just beneath her ear. His voice dropped low, gravel thick with hunger and heat.

“Don’t wash too hard, baby,” he whispered, letting his hand ghost along the curve of her hip, “I want that scent on you when I come back.”

Annie’s breath caught, lashes fluttering.

Smoke’s lips brushed her again, this time just behind her jaw, “You hear me?”

She didn’t speak—just nodded, slow and sharp.

He smiled against her neck, “Good. ‘Cause soon as I’m through with this run, I’m gon’ tear you up. Ain’t lettin’ you sleep tonight. You gon’ walk crooked by mornin’.”

Annie turned slightly, enough to meet his eyes—dark, hooded, steady, “You better come back ready,” she whispered.

Smoke chuckled low in his chest, kissed her temple once, and stepped away, grabbing his hat from the wall hook.

Near the doorway, Stack stood with his hat already in hand, watching Amelia. She was near the windowsill, pretending to adjust the lace curtain, but her whole body tilted slightly toward him—waiting.

He walked up slow, like the air between them was thick with something he had to wade through.

“You be good while I’m gone,” he murmured, his voice gentler than his brother’s, but no less heavy with promise.

Amelia looked up at him, soft brown eyes wide, lips parted like she had something to say—but didn’t.

Stack leaned in and pressed a single kiss to the side of her neck. Not rushed. Not greedy. Just firm and lingering—his lips dragging lightly across the pulse point beneath her ear. His hand slid to the small of her back and stayed there for a heartbeat too long.

Then he pulled back, his thumb brushing her side, “I’ll be back before sundown.”

Amelia nodded, a soft blush blooming beneath her skin.

Annie watched the exchange from the sink, lips twitching into a knowing smirk. She didn’t say a word.

“Y’all don’t be messin’ around too long.” Annie said.

Smoke met Annie’s eyes as he moved toward his hat. “Don’t I always mess around too long?” he muttered, low, with a wink.

The front door opened with a creak, then shut.

And just like that, the house exhaled.

Once both brothers had left—boots clomping down the porch steps, doors shutting behind them—the house fell into an almost too-quiet stillness.

Amelia looked up, her lips parted just slightly. Annie crossed the room slow, her hips swaying as she pulled the apron from her waist and tossed it over the chair.

“You play too much,” Annie said softly.

“So do you,” Amelia whispered.

They stood in the open doorway of the hallway, sunlight from the kitchen framing them. Annie reached out, trailing her hand down Amelia’s arm. Her fingers curled around Amelia’s wrist, thumb stroking the inside like she was feeling for a pulse.

“You got time before your lesson,” Annie said.

“I know,” Amelia breathed.

Without another word, Annie led her by the wrist toward the bedroom. The air was thick with jasmine and the ghost of frying grease. Annie closed the door behind them with a soft click.

Inside, the light was golden and low. A breeze moved the lace curtains just enough to flutter them like a breath.

Annie reached for the buttons on her blouse, slow and measured. “C’mere, sugar,” she said, voice warm and honey-thick.

Amelia stepped in close, her fingers brushing against Annie’s waist, her breath catching in her throat.

They had work to do, yes. But for now—just a little indulgence. Just a little sweetness before the spirits came calling.

For a long, loaded moment, neither of them moved.

“I felt you teasing me,” Annie murmured, voice barely above a whisper, “looking at me across the table with a bite of your lip. You want me to eat my pussy, sugar?”

“Yes….please…devour me, Annie. Ain’t been right since Mound Bayou…”

“Me neither. Got a taste for pussy juice and yours get me right every time.”

Amelia’s lips parted, but no words came.

Annie reached up and brushed a fingertip along the curve of Amelia’s jaw, following it like a map she already knew by heart. Her hand cupped the back of Amelia’s neck, warm and steady. She leaned in slowly, her breath brushing Amelia’s lips.

“Say stop,” Annie whispered, “If you need me to.”

“I won’t,” Amelia breathed, eyes already half-lidded.

And then Annie kissed her.

Soft at first—just the faintest press of lips. A tasting. A question.

Amelia leaned into it, answering.

Their mouths moved gently at first, grazing, brushing, lips molding and parting. Then deeper. Annie tilted her head and licked softly into Amelia’s mouth, her tongue teasing, coaxing.

Amelia gasped, the sound muffled between them, her hands rising to curl into Annie’s sides, bunching the soft fabric of her blouse. Her body melted forward, pressed into Annie’s with a hunger she couldn’t hide.

Their tongues tangled, slow and searching. No rush. Just sensation. A slow burn.

Amelia’s hand slipped around to Annie’s back, fingers dragging along her spine. Annie’s other hand slid low to Amelia’s hip, gripping it, guiding her closer until there was no space between them—just heat, breath, and lips that kept finding each other.

Annie pulled back slightly, just enough to speak against her lips, “You taste like summer.”

Amelia gave a breathless laugh, fingers still trembling where they touched, “You taste like somethin’ I ain’t supposed to have.”

Annie leaned in again and kissed her deeper, slower. Their breaths were shallow, shared. The kiss unfolded like a secret—satin-slow, layered with longing.

When they finally parted, Amelia’s lips were swollen, her breath unsteady, curls brushing Annie’s cheek.

Neither spoke for a moment. They didn’t have to.

Annie just took her hand and led her to the bed.

“C’mon, sugar,” she whispered, voice velvet-dark, “Let me show you what drawin’ in love really feels like.”

And beneath the quiet moan of the floorboards and the hum of summer outside, something unseen stirred in the room—a shimmer, a ripple—like magic holding its breath.

The bed sat in the center of the room, low to the floor with thick carved posts that framed it like an altar. A patchwork quilt was folded at the foot, worn and sun-faded but lovingly kept. The sheets were cream-colored and linen-soft, wrinkled slightly from the morning’s rest. A single red pillow rested where her head had been earlier, the indent of her shape still visible.

Beside the bed, a small wooden nightstand held a clay dish of jewelry—rings, copper bracelets, and silver hoops scattered like offerings. There was a well-thumbed Bible there too, tucked beside a tiny blue bottle of protection oil and a folded scrap of paper with faint handwritten sigils. A glass of water with lemon slices floated near the edge, the condensation sweating down its sides.

A cedar wardrobe stood open on one side, dresses hanging like pressed flowers—cotton, muslin, and the occasional silky piece saved for nights that needed it. A pair of leather boots lay kicked off beside a woven mat, and one of Annie’s headwraps draped over the edge of a wicker chair by the wall, where a half-finished doll made of Spanish moss and red thread waited in Annie’s lap basket.

In the far corner, a small altar sat against the wall, subtle but sacred. A photo of her mother, younger and smiling in black and white, sat framed in brass. A tiny bowl of salt. A bundle of sage tied in string. A glass of rum. And tucked near the base—something soft and wrapped in silk: a small charm bag she’d made weeks ago, before Amelia ever showed up.

The whole room breathed warmth. Lived-in. Loved-in.

It wasn’t grand or loud. It was hers—intimate, spirit-fed, and humming with the echoes of laughter, prayers, and the low, private moans of a woman who knew how to love hard and quiet.

And now, with Amelia standing before Annie naked, the light curling around her like it belonged to her, the room felt suddenly alive.

Annie sat bare before her, delicious curves revealed. She drew Ameila closer and wrapped her lips around her nipples.

“Hike a foot up, sugar…”

Amelia obeyed. Annie’s long fingers stroked her pussy lips back and forth. She was already slick between her thighs, warmth blooming there like honey left too long in the sun—thick, golden, sweet. When Annie’s fingers parted her, they came away shining, coated in the soft proof of her want. It wasn’t just arousal—it was surrender, a kind of sacred ache that pulsed with every breath Amelia took beneath her hands.

“You so sticky…I can smell you…so fuckin’ beautiful, Lia…”

Annie sucked Amelia’s arousal off of her fingers. Amelia watched, caressing her knee, nibbling on her lip. Annie’s eyes locked between Amelia’s legs. She gasped when she noticed a trail of her arousal dripping like honey from a comb. Annie scooted off of the bed and let her head recline back against the mattress.

“Sit on my mouth, sugar, please…”

Annie was desperate. Amelia climbed up and squatted over Annie’s lips while holding onto the bedpost. The floorboards creaked beneath Annie’s heavy bottom as she adjusted herself. The stroke of her lips against Amelia’s clit sent a jolt of electricity through her. Annie kissed her clit repeatedly, soft and sweet. Amelia couldn’t control the way her hips would roll along Annie’s lips when the kiss became too much.

“Annie…you kiss my pussy so good…”

Amelia allowed her full weight to settle down. That movement opened her pussy up more and her arousal dripped down Annie’s chin. Amelia arched her back and stared straight ahead at herself in Annie’s ornate mirror.

The mirror was old, its glass slightly warped, the wooden frame carved with roses and roots, stained by time and candle smoke. It leaned against the wall of Annie’s bedroom, right across from the bed, angled just enough to catch every inch of Amelia’s body.

She was glowing.

Not figuratively. Not metaphorically.

A faint, golden shimmer coiled along her collarbones, danced beneath her skin like lightning in honey. Her eyes—half-lidded, dazed with pleasure—flashed not brown, but molten, their irises threaded with soft embers. Each breath made her chest rise, and with it, tiny sparks of light pulsed at her throat and wrists, as if her veins carried starlight instead of blood.

Her lips parted on a moan—head tilting back, throat exposed—and the mirror caught it all: the sweat shining on her skin, the trembling curve of her stomach, the glistening slick between her thighs as Annie’s fingers slid deeper, Annie’s mouth pressed closer.

Annie murmured something low against her, a praise or a spell, but Amelia barely heard it.

She couldn’t stop watching herself.

She looked… not human. Not just human.

Her reflection shimmered around the edges, soft and flickering, like heat haze rising from a bayou at dusk. It was subtle, but unmistakable. Light clung to her like perfume. Her body looked too soft, too radiant, too real to be only flesh.

She wasn’t unraveling—she was becoming.

Becoming whatever she was always meant to be.

And Annie—now kneeling behind her, moaning softly between her thighs—seemed to feed it. Fuel it. Pull it to the surface. Each lick, each suck, each curl of a finger sent another flicker of light through Amelia’s reflection, like a ripple across moonlit water.

Amelia gasped, eyes locked on her glowing, god-touched self.

What am I becoming? she thought—but there was no fear in it.

Only wonder.

Only ache.

And the slow, delicious build of something ancient unfurling inside her, like fire waking in her blood.

“Annie, fuck…”

Annie’s chin dripped with Amelia’s release. The sound of Annie’s loud sucking grew louder. She didn’t want to stop. She’d only ever stop to admire her work. Amelia’s folds puffy and sensitive, slick with spit and cum. Annie would stroke it with her fingers before going in again to taste. Amelia stayed still like a good girl, arching more, spreading herself open more.

Annie dipped her head to suck her clit from another angle. Amelia felt herself clenching around nothing.

“Mhm…” Annie hummed.

Annie’s mouth moved with slow precision, her tongue circling, teasing, her fingers stroking Amelia deeper. The heat building between Amelia’s legs was unbearable—perfect—a slow burn that curled up her spine and bloomed behind her eyes. Her reflection in the mirror gleamed brighter now, as though the fire in her blood had taken root in the glass.

Her lips parted on a moan, and then—

“Sélas ti’mo lúmen… ai’triel sa lorrein…”

The words spilled out before she could stop them, half-gasped, half-sung—like smoke rising from the mouth of a flame.

Annie froze for just a moment, her breath catching against Amelia’s slick skin, “What… was that?” she whispered.

But Amelia couldn’t answer. Her head fell back, eyes fluttering shut as the sensation crested inside her. The words hadn’t come from her mouth alone—they came from deep within, from some sacred, buried root waking beneath her skin.

The mirror pulsed. Her reflection flared with golden light, the embers in her eyes glowing brighter now—alive, wild, ancient.

The words echoed softly through the room, even after her voice fell silent:

“Sélas ti’mo lúmen… ai’triel sa lorrein…”

Light of my flame… let the veil open…

Annie pressed her hand to the back of Amelia’s thigh, breathing harder now, but not just from desire.

From awe.

Amelia gripped the quilt, her whole body trembling as the climax rolled over her—but part of her, deep and sacred, had already passed through another threshold entirely.

She didn’t know the meaning of the words.

But her blood did.

“You speaking in tongues, sugar?”

Annie stood, staring down at Amelia. Amelia didn’t know what she was speaking, she was equally as stunned.

“It’s just…Annie, the way you, Stack, and Smoke eat me…it just…it…”

Annie stroked Amelia’s cheek to soothe her.

“Tell me what it does while I finish my dessert, sugar.”

Amelia gave Annie a slow nod. Annie got down on her knees and motioned for Amelia to come closer. Ameila scooted to the edge of the bed, spread her thighs, and watched Annie dive back in with a curl of her tongue.

Amelia sat back on her elbows to watch. Annie slipped a hand between her legs to touch her own pussy.

Annie spoke between licks and slurps, “You lovin’ my lips on this fat pussy?”

Amelia was choking on a moan. She couldn’t properly respond.

Amelia was soaked and leaking to the quilt. She couldn’t hear Annie’s wet folds and it made her sit up. Annie locked eyes with her while her lips lightly sucked on her clit.

“Annie…can we touch pussies?”

Annie paused.

“Please…I need it,” Amelia begged with a whiny voice.

“…Yes,” Annie says with a smile, “I’ve been wanting to do that to you…”

Annie stood, sharing a laugh with Amelia. She went to rest on her back and she hooked her heels in her hands before opening up wide and limber. Ameila stared astonishingly at Annie before clombing up to straddle her. She sat directly over Annie’s hairy pussy and when their clits touched Amelia moaned without restriction.

The feeling of their shared wetness pressed together and gliding sent shivers up Annie’s spine. It felt amazing. Slick and messy. She stared up at Amelia past her breasts that sat beneath her chin. Amelia looked like a goddess above her. Nipples erect and poking out. Hair falling into her eyes, skin glistening with sweat.

“Bump my pussy, Lia…”

Amelia braced herself on Annie’s legs. She tossed her hair back and bucked her hips like Annie commanded. The amount of wetness between them left no room for words. They locked eyes and moaned on a loop. Amelia bounced, her clit slapping into Annie’s.

“Lia, that fat pussy…oh, goodness…keep doing that…”

Annie felt her clit grow with each collision. Ameila found her groove and she would bounce then buck…bounce then buck…bounce then buck…

Annie couldn’t believe that she could feel herself cumming already. She stared up at Amelia with disbelief at how good it felt. Brows pinched together, lips parted. Amelia circled her pussy over Annie’s and Annie could feel her body seizing.

Ameila twirled her nipples and licked her lips. She looked so damn beautiful.

“Smoke gonna have a good time sinking into this pussy with how wet you are, Annie…”

Annie couldn’t believe the filth that just came from Amelia’s mouth while she brought her to climax. Annie felt her pussy pulsating against Amelia’s. It was such a powerful orgasm. While Annie tried to come down from her orgasmic high, Amelia spread her open and licked up everything that was left behind.

Annie stared down at Amelia with a look of defeat.

Amelia spoke between licks, “I think I’m ready for my lesson now, Annie.”

Amelia still felt warm between her thighs as they stepped into the shop—clean, dressed, but touched. She and Annie had to freshen up before the lesson, and though water cooled their skin and fresh cotton clung clean to their bodies, the memory of Annie’s mouth and the mirror’s glow lingered like heat under the skin.

She had slipped into a soft sage-green dress that clung in the right places, brushing just past her knees, and Annie had chosen a cotton wrap skirt and a white blouse that left her collarbones bare. They didn’t speak of what happened in the bedroom, but the way Annie’s eyes flicked over her as she unlocked the shop door, the slight curve of her smirk, said everything that needed saying.

Inside, the air was thick with rosemary, lemongrass, and mugwort. Dried bundles hung upside down from beams above, their stems bound in twine. Glass jars lined the shelves—full of roots, powders, dried flowers, little bones, and oil tinctures that caught the light. The old wood floor creaked under their bare feet. A low blues tune spun from the corner, soft and crackling, as if the record itself had a soul.

Amelia inhaled deeply. This space felt alive.

Annie moved behind the counter, pulling down a jar of honey and a bundle of cinnamon sticks. “Let’s get started on love work,” she said, laying the items on a cloth square, “Drawin’ in want. But this time, I want you to focus on how your hands move. What they say. Rootwork ain’t just what you use. It’s how you touch it.”

Amelia nodded, her fingers tingling as she reached for the honey.

But just as she uncorked the jar, the bell above the door jingled.

A woman stepped inside, soft-voiced and slow-footed.

Pearline.

She looked a little nervous, like she’d rehearsed her entrance. Slender and brown-skinned, wearing a faded yellow dress and a matching hat sitting low on her forehead. She carried herself like someone used to holding back—chin slightly tucked, shoulders not quite squared. But her eyes… her eyes were curious, wide-set, and shining.

“Miss Annie?” she said gently.

Annie turned, wiping her hands. “Mm. Pearline. You made it.”

Pearline nodded, glancing briefly at Amelia with a shy smile. “I—I wasn’t sure if it was too soon.”

“It’s right on time,” Annie said, motioning her in. “C’mon in, baby. You remember Amelia?”

“We ain’t properly met,” Pearline murmured, offering her hand. “I seen you ‘round town though. Folks say you Annie’s apprentice.”

Amelia smiled and took her hand. Pearline’s touch was warm, and there was something in her—some flicker, some faint light Amelia felt in her chest like a bell being rung softly. Recognition, but not quite knowing. A kinship unspoken.

“I’m learnin’ all I can,” Amelia said gently. “Glad to meet you, finally.”

Annie motioned toward the reading table, where the light pooled golden over a linen cloth, and a small bowl of herbs waited beside a red flannel bag.

“Now,” Annie said, “you said you wanted help for… your husband?”

Pearline flushed, fingers twisting in her skirt. “He—he don’t touch me no more. Not like he used to. And I ain’t sure if it’s me… or if somethin’ else got in the way.”

Amelia’s heart softened.

Annie nodded, all business now, the rootworker stepping forward. “Well. We gon’ see what’s what. I got somethin’ that might sweeten his tongue and stir what’s sleepin’. But first we talk, and then we make.”

She turned to Amelia with a flick of her chin. “You gon’ help me build it.”

Amelia stepped beside her, eyes on the ingredients: damiana, ginger root, licorice, rose petals.

But as Pearline spoke—softly, haltingly—Amelia felt it again. That flicker. That something in Pearline’s voice, her eyes, her blood. A faint glow behind her skin.

And deep in Amelia’s chest, her fae light stirred—curious.

She don’t even know, Amelia thought.

Not yet.

But maybe… she will.

Annie laid out the ingredients with care, every motion deliberate—rootworking wasn’t just craft. It was communication. A dance between spirit and touch.

“First,” she said to Pearline, “we work a tea to cleanse you—open your heart, clear out any grief cloudin’ your womb or your want. Then we draw what’s needed.”

Pearline nodded, lips pressed into a tight line. She sat on the stool quietly while Annie passed her a warm cup steeped with hibiscus, damiana, cinnamon, and a whisper of honey. It smelled like longing. Like heat waiting to be called back.

While Pearline drank, Annie handed Amelia the red flannel square, “You fix the conjure bag. Do it like I showed you.”

Amelia nodded and began.

A pinch of ginger root, to stir the flame.

Damiana leaves, for lust and passion.

A twist of licorice root, for control—gentle but firm.

Rose petals, for softness, for sweetness.

A drop of patchouli oil, slow and musky.

She moved with intention, each herb added like a verse of a prayer. Her fingers pinched and poured with grace, and Annie watched her, lips pursed in quiet approval.

“Now kiss it closed,” Annie said.

Amelia brought the cloth to her lips and pressed a soft kiss at the center before tying it shut with red thread. As she did, the bag warmed in her palm—just slightly, like something inside had stirred to life. Her heart skipped.

She didn’t say anything.

Annie dipped the tip of her finger into the honey jar nearby and wrote a symbol over the pouch—one Amelia didn’t recognize. Not hoodoo, exactly. Not completely. It looked older.

Pearline held out her hands.

Annie placed the bag into them gently, “Put this under y’all’s mattress. Sleep over it. And when you want to call him back into you, talk to it sweet. Like he already yours again.”

Pearline looked at them both, eyes glistening, “Thank you.”

“You ain’t alone,” Annie said, “Not never.”

After the working, Pearline lingered. She stood beside a shelf of dried herbs, running her fingers over the hanging bundles like she was trying to read something in the leaves. Amelia stepped beside her, drawn in like a moth.

“You did real good in there,” Pearline said softly, without turning, “You got a gentle hand.”

Amelia smiled, “Thank you.”

Pearline turned to face her. Their eyes met.

There it was again.

That flicker.

It wasn’t magic in the hoodoo sense. It wasn’t a spirit in the room.

It was in Pearline.

Amelia’s fae light stirred behind her ribs, curling like warm vapor. It responded without her permission, reaching—curious. Pearline had something inside her. Latent. Quiet. Maybe passed down without ever being named. Maybe watered down from a long-ago bloodline or hidden behind Sunday skirts and psalms.

But it was there.

Pearline stepped closer. Not in a flirtatious way. But open.

“Sometimes I feel things,” she said, almost whispering, “Things I don’t understand. Like… like the wind listens when I talk. Or animals follow me for no reason. Or my dreams come true in little pieces.”

Amelia’s throat tightened, “You ever told anyone that?”

Pearline shook her head, “Folks already think I’m strange. I don’t want ‘em thinkin’ worse.”

“You ain’t strange,” Amelia said softly, “You just ain’t been taught your name yet.”

Pearline blinked. “My name?”

“The one inside you,” Amelia said, placing her hand lightly over Pearline’s chest. “The one only the old blood remembers.”

Pearline stared at her for a long moment. The shop around them hummed—soft wind against glass jars, blues music fading into silence.

“Will you show me?” she asked.

Amelia nodded, “If you want it.”

And somewhere beneath them—below the floorboards, under the roots—something ancient and glowing turned over in its sleep.

Annie stood behind the counter, slowly cleaning the edge of a carved mortar with a linen cloth, but her eyes weren’t on the tools in her hands. They were on the corner of the shop where Amelia and Pearline stood, just beyond the reach of the sun filtering through the lace curtains.

The two women were close—faces turned inward, heads bowed slightly like they were speaking something soft. Private.

Annie couldn’t make out the words.

But she didn’t need to.

She watched Pearline touch one of the dried rosemary bundles, her fingers lingering, then drop her hand to her chest as if something there had just stirred awake. She watched Amelia answer her with that look—the one she wore when her spirit recognized something before her mouth could name it.

Well, Annie thought. Ain’t that something.

She didn’t feel left out. Not exactly. But there was something in the air now—like a thread had been pulled from a fabric she’d thought only she and Amelia shared.

Amelia, who had been so quiet at first. So sweet, tender. Powerful, yes—but soft with it. Careful. Annie had watched her bloom like a morning glory since the day she stepped into the shop, barefoot and smelling of river moss and honey. Now she was reaching out to someone else. And not just anyone.

Pearline.

Of course it would be Pearline.

There was something in that girl Annie had always noticed. The way animals followed her. The way her voice carried like wind through tall grass when she sang at the river. The way her eyes always looked like they were remembering something she hadn’t lived yet.

Two women made of ache and hidden light.

Kindred.

Annie narrowed her eyes slightly. Not in judgment—but in thought.

She set down the mortar and reached for the jar of frankincense resin, as if busying her hands would still her thoughts.

Pearline trustin’ her already, she mused, and they only just properly met.

But it didn’t feel wrong. In fact, it felt like something that was always meant to happen.

Amelia placed her hand gently over Pearline’s heart, and whatever she said made Pearline’s shoulders soften like they’d been carrying something too long.

Annie’s mouth twitched into the faintest smile.

“They speakin’ a language without words,” she murmured aloud, though no one heard it, “One they both remember, somewhere deep.”

Still—something in her belly curled tight. Not jealousy. Not even suspicion. Just a flicker of watchfulness. Like a door she’d thought was closed had quietly eased itself open.

She wiped her hands and called softly across the room, “Y’all alright over there?”

Both women turned at once.

Pearline gave a small smile, a little dazed but glowing.

Amelia’s eyes flicked to Annie’s, wide and unreadable.

“Mhm,” she said gently, “We just…talkin’.”

Annie nodded once, slow, “Good. ‘Cause the lesson ain’t over yet. And I want you both ready.”

Then she turned and walked into the back room, leaving the two of them in that golden hush.

But even as she moved out of sight, she could feel it: something had shifted.

Something was blooming.

And it wasn’t done yet.

The sun was streaming fuller through the windows by the time Pearline gathered her things. Her root bag was tucked beneath her arm, tied off with a strip of indigo cloth Annie had blessed with oil and a whispered prayer. She held the charm bag close to her chest, like it was more than fabric and herbs—like it was a secret only she and the spirits knew.

Her hat had lifted slightly, a soft curl slipping free at her temple. Amelia noticed it, and something about the way it curled—unruly and delicate—felt familiar. Kindred.

Pearline turned to her at the door, eyes searching.

“I know you probably busy with lessons and things, but… I’d really like to see you again.”

Amelia’s smile bloomed slow and warm, “I’d like that too.”

Pearline exhaled, a shy, breathy laugh escaping her like she hadn’t meant to be so bold, “Maybe we could talk more. I got questions, and you… you feel like someone I can talk to without feelin’ crazy.”

Amelia nodded, stepping closer, her voice a soft hush, “You ain’t crazy. You just woke up. And sometimes, when you first wake up, you need somebody to help you figure out what the dream meant.”

Pearline’s eyes welled with quiet emotion, but she held it back, smiling through it.

“Tomorrow,” Amelia offered, “why don’t you come by Annie’s garden? We’ll have a picnic out back. It’s quiet there—pretty, too. We could bring sweet tea, a little fried okra, maybe some biscuits if I don’t burn ‘em.”

Pearline beamed, “Yes. I’d like that real much.”

They exchanged a time—just after eleven, before the heat climbs too high—and Amelia gave her hand a gentle squeeze before releasing it.

A faint clop-clop sounded outside the shop, the slow creak of buggy wheels against the dirt road. Pearline glanced back over her shoulder.

“That’s my friend, waitin’ with the horse. He gon’ take me home.”

“You need help carryin’ any of it?” Amelia asked.

Pearline shook her head, “I got it.”

Annie, who’d stepped out of the backroom just in time to catch the exchange, came forward and pressed a hand gently to Pearline’s shoulder.

“You did good today,” she said, “Now don’t go second-guessin’ it.”

Pearline nodded.

“And don’t forget,” Annie added, her voice slightly firmer now, protective, “what you feel inside—your voice, your power, your need—it ain’t wrong. Ain’t never been.”

Pearline’s eyes shimmered, “Thank you, Miss Annie. I mean that.”

Annie nodded once, “You sleep with that bag under your bed for the first three nights. Then move it to your pillow. And if that man start actin’ brand new, you send me a letter.”

Pearline laughed, then turned to Amelia.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“I’ll be waitin’.”

Pearline slipped out into the sunlight, her figure framed by the doorway—slight, soft, but no longer small. She walked to the buggy with a spring in her step and a root bag full of magic nestled close.

Amelia watched her go, the door swinging shut gently behind her.

“Girl got a light in her,” Annie murmured, stepping beside her.

Amelia turned to her, voice low. “Yeah. She does.”

But inside, her fae light whispered something else.

She’s got more than that. She got something old.

And it’s waking up.

The sky had settled into a dusky violet by the time they got home, the final red threads of daylight curling low behind the trees. The scent of drying herbs still clung to Amelia’s dress, and the backs of her knees were damp with sweat. She was tired—but content. The shop had been quiet after Pearline left, and the energy between her and Annie had softened into something warm and close.

Annie pulled the screen door shut behind them and kicked off her shoes in the entryway. She moved toward the small stack of mail left tucked in the slot by the doorframe.

“Didn’t check it earlier,” she muttered more to herself than anyone.

Amelia walked into the kitchen and set her bag down with a sigh, already moving toward the icebox to fetch the leftover fried squash and red beans they hadn’t touched the day before. She hummed a little under her breath, comforted by the small ritual of reheating food in Annie’s cast iron skillet.

The house creaked with familiar sounds—floorboards groaning as they cooled, frogs beginning their chorus outside, and the soft crinkle of envelopes as Annie sifted through the mail at the table.

Then a pause.

Amelia turned slightly, glancing over her shoulder.

Annie sat still now—shoulders stiff, one envelope trembling slightly between her fingers. Her face changed—eyes narrowing, lips pressing into a firm, unreadable line.

“You alright?” Amelia asked gently, stepping closer.

Annie didn’t answer at first. Her eyes scanned the page, but Amelia could tell—she wasn’t reading it anymore. She already knew what it said. The kind of knowing that settled in your bones before your eyes caught up.

“It’s from Miss Ora Mae,” Annie said finally, folding the letter tight, voice thick but calm. “Down in Shelby. One of her girls went missin’. And a woman’s been found near the crossroads with her eyes gone.”

Amelia froze, the warmth of the skillet forgotten.

“Jesus,” she whispered.

Annie looked up at her then, face shadowed beneath the kitchen light. “I gotta go. She’s callin’ for me.”

“Tomorrow?”

Annie nodded, “First light.”

They didn’t speak much after that. Just ate quietly—red beans over rice, squash crisp at the edges, cornbread still soft in the center. Amelia wrapped a second plate in cloth and set it near the stove, leaving a pan warming for when Smoke and Stack returned from town. The brothers were handling something with the moonshine and juke joint supplies—last details before the weekend’s big opening.

Outside, the cicadas hummed.

Inside, tension curled behind Annie’s eyes like smoke in a closed room.

Smoke and Stack returned just as the crickets took up their night song, boots heavy on the porch. Stack stepped inside first, his shirt damp with sweat and the smell of whiskey clinging to his collar. His eyes landed on Amelia with a small, crooked smile.

“I’m takin’ her,” he said simply, nodding toward Amelia.

She gave Annie a quick glance, then followed Stack down the hall, her pulse already rising.

Smoke lingered, silent as ever, his gaze sweeping the kitchen before settling on Annie.

“Food’s hot,” she said softly, motioning to the waiting plate.

He sat across from her, taking his button shirt off and resting it behind him, and then he dug in. He didn’t say much—not at first. Just ate slow, chewing like he could taste something beyond the food.

Annie stared at her tea, fingers tapping absently against the cup.

“You gone quiet on me,” he said finally.

“I got a letter.”

He stopped chewing, “Bad?”

“Miss Ora Mae in Shelby. Trouble with one of her girls. Real bad signs.”

Smoke swallowed, jaw twitching.

“You think it’s them folks from that river camp?”

“I don’t know. But I gotta go see.”

“When?”

“Dawn.”

Silence.

Smoke set his fork down, leaned back slightly, “You ain’t goin’ alone.”

Annie met his eyes, “I am.”

He shook his head slowly, “Nah. Not for somethin’ like that. Not if they takin’ eyes now.”

“You got the juke openin’ this weekend. You can’t go runnin’ off.”

“Damn the openin’,” he growled, but the heat in his voice softened at the look she gave him. That stubborn calm she always wore when her mind was made up.

“Smoke,” she said gently, “This my work. Mine. They called for me, not you. You stay here. Handle what’s yours.”

He clenched his jaw, pushed the plate away.

“I don’t like it.”

“You ain’t got to,” she said, reaching for his hand, “Just trust me.”

He held her hand a long moment, callused fingers wrapping tight around hers.

Then—quietly—he nodded.

Later, beneath the open sky, Annie drew water from the hand pump and filled the iron tub on the back porch. The moon was nearly full, hanging low and round above the trees. Smoke sat in the tub, his back to her, steam rising around him in soft tendrils.

She bathed him in silence, her hands slow and reverent. She poured warm water over his broad shoulders, dragged the washcloth across the planes of his back, kissed the nape of his neck as she worked.

He said nothing at first.

Then, he spoke softly, “You come back to me.”

“I always do.”

“I mean it, Annie.”

She leaned in, pressed her lips to his ear.

“If I don’t, you’ll find me anyway. You always do.”

Water splashed soft against metal. Frogs sang in the cane grass. The moon watched from her perch in the sky, full and golden, as Annie’s hands moved slow over the man she loved.

And somewhere in the distance, the wind shifted.

Something was coming. Annie could feel it in her bones.

But for now, she just bathed her man in moonlight. And let the night hold them.

The steam curled in soft spirals from the surface of the water, carrying the scent of rosemary and bay leaf. The iron tub be on the back porch creaked faintly as Smoke shifted, his long legs stretched out, chest slick with heat. Moonlight cast him in silver—his dark skin gleaming, beard damp at the edge of his jaw.

Annie knelt behind him on a stool, bare feet braced against the wooden slats of the porch, her slip clinging damp to her thick body. She dragged a cloth over his broad shoulders, slow and deliberate, her fingers following behind to massage soap into his skin.

Smoke groaned low in his chest, head falling forward slightly.

“You always groan like that,” she murmured, lips curving at the edge, “Makes me think you been needin’ this more than you let on.”

“You already know I do,” he rumbled, voice thick as molasses, “Ain’t nothin’ like ya’ hands, woman.”

Annie reached for the tin pitcher and poured warm water over him again, watching the rivulets roll down the grooves of his back, over the scars he never spoke of, over the life he’d never explain. She set the pitcher down and leaned in close, breath warm against the nape of his neck.

Her right hand dipped lower beneath the water—beneath the surface, where heat pooled thick. She found him with ease, fingers curling gently around his length, already half-hardened from her touch alone.

Smoke exhaled, jaw tightening.

“Annie…”

She kissed behind his ear, slow and wet, and then her tongue flicked over the curve of his right ear—the sensitive part she’d discovered long ago that unraveled him like thread.

Her voice dropped, lush and low, and she began to whisper in his ear—not English now, but Yoruba, her grandmother’s tongue. The one passed to her through work and blood, never written down, only remembered through ritual and want.

“Mo ní ifẹ́ rẹ… gbogbo ara rẹ.”

I want you…all of you.

Smoke’s hand gripped the sides of the tub, knuckles pale.

“Jọ̀wọ́, jẹ́ kí n jẹ ẹ láradá…”

Let me be your healer.

She kissed just behind his jaw, her voice like silk wrapped in flame.

“Fọ gbogbo ìbànújẹ rẹ sínú omi yìí.”

Let the water take your sorrow.

Her hand stroked him under the surface, slow and steady, and she felt him growing harder with each breath. The moon above them seemed to hold its breath. The frogs, the wind, the night itself stilled.

Smoke turned his head slightly, his eyes finding hers—dark, unreadable, full of fire.

“You tryin’ to drive me outta my mind?”

Annie didn’t answer.

She simply rose from the stool and climbed into the tub with him, her full body slipping into the water, thighs parting as she straddled him, taking off her slip that clung to her curves like a second skin from sweat.

She reached between them, guiding him to her, and whispered one last thing against his mouth—

“Má ṣe bẹ̀rù ìfẹ́ mi…”

Don’t be afraid of my love.

Then she kissed him.

Hungry, deep, wet.

And the tub rocked beneath them as the water answered in waves.

The water sloshed softly around them as Annie eased down over him, her hands pressed to his slick chest, her breath catching the moment he filled her. Deep. Stretching. So familiar, and yet every time felt like the first—all heat and slow ache and a breath stolen too fast.

Smoke’s hands slid up her thighs, gripping her hips with reverence and hunger. He groaned, head falling back against the rim of the tub, the sound guttural and low.

Annie moved slow, rocking her hips in a rhythm as old as prayer. The iron creaked beneath them, moonlight bathing their glistening skin, steam rising like the breath of the spirits that bore witness.

“FUCK,” Smoke spoke sharply with a grunt, “Hot pussy…juicy…”

“Amelia warmed me up nice and good for you…”

Smoke gripped the tubs edge and stared into Annie’s eyes with smoldering passion.

“Feel this pussy, Papa…”

the curves of her breasts pressed tight against his chest as she leaned forward and whispered more Yoruba into his ear.

“Mo jẹ́ ayé rẹ… mo jẹ́ ibi ìsinmi rẹ…”

I am your world…I am your place of rest…

Her lips brushed his jaw as she moved, the words dripping from her tongue like oil over fire. Smoke’s grip tightened, and his hips bucked up into her, his rhythm becoming needful, deeper now—pulling moans from her throat she didn’t try to hide.

“Say it again,” he rasped, though he didn’t understand. “Whatever it is. Say it.”

She cupped his face in her hands, slowing her movements just enough to feel every inch of him. Her eyes searched his.

“Ìfẹ́ yìí… kò ní parí.”

This love…will not end.

She stuck her fingers in his mouth and then replaced them with her tongue as she kissed him then—full, open, wet. Their mouths met like they were starving, teeth grazing lips, tongues stroking in time with her hips. The water rocked louder now, the tin tub groaning beneath the strain of them. Her thighs trembled around him.

Smoke sat up, arms wrapping around her, mouth dragging along the curve of her shoulder, then her throat. His voice was thick, trembling.

“You feel like home, Annie. You are home.”

Annie buried her face against his neck, her arms wrapping tight around his back. Her body moved faster now, chasing the edge with him, the sound of flesh meeting water rising like thunder in their ears. His hands gripped her backside, guiding her rhythm, grounding her in his body. Water splashed, coating his face and hers.

Then—

He groaned her name, rough and breathless.

And she shattered against him.

Her cry was soft but shaking, clinging to him as her climax rolled through her like storm-wind. Her walls fluttered around him and that’s when he let go—gripping her close, his release pulsing deep inside her, their bodies locked in wet, heaving stillness.

They stayed like that for long moments. His forehead pressed to hers. Her breath still stuttering in her chest.

Then—

Smoke let out a slow breath, like something in him had finally exhaled after years of holding on.

Annie cupped his jaw again, stared into his face. “You hear me now?” she whispered.

He nodded.

“I heard everything.”

She smiled, kissed the corner of his mouth. Then leaned back, letting the warm water rise around her once more.

They bathed each other in the quiet that followed, no rush, no words needed. The moon hung high above them—witness, keeper, guardian.

They didn’t bother to dry off.

Smoke lifted her from the tub, water slicking off their skin in rivulets as he carried her into the house—her thick thighs cradled around his waist, her arms looped behind his neck. Their mouths stayed locked, breath hot and uneven, tongues tangled in kisses that never ended, only deepened.

The bedroom door slammed shut behind them.

Moonlight spilled through the open window, casting Annie’s skin in silver flame. Her body gleamed—full, bronzed, beaded with water. Her breasts heaved, nipples tight, Smoke’s eyes stuck to every curve like worship.

Smoke growled low in his throat.

“Lay back,” he said roughly, guiding her to the bed.

She obeyed, her body hitting the sheets with a soft, wet sigh.

His eyes swept over her slowly—deliberately—dragging from her hips, to her belly, to her breasts. He kissed every inch it revealed, moaning as he went.

“Look at you,” he muttered against her stomach, voice thick and reverent, “You so goddamn fine, Annie. Look at this body. Look at these hips. This ass. You know I ain’t never wanted nobody the way I want you?”

His hands roamed her like he’d forgotten everything else in the world.

“I’m gon’ take my time wit’ ya’ tonight,” he growled. “And YOU gon’ take all this dick, just like ya’ was made to.”

Annie whimpered, already arching beneath him.

Smoke grabbed her thighs, spreading them wide as he knelt between them. His mouth found her again—devouring, slow at first, then faster. She cried out, hips bucking, and he held her down with one strong arm, eating like he was trying to own her soul.

“You taste so fuckin’ good, baby,” he murmured against her folds, his beard slick with her arousal. “Keep runnin’ from me, I’ma pin you down and fuck you into the floor.”

She moaned—shaky, desperate—and reached for him.

“Elijah!”

His response was more pussy eating. He pinned Annie’s thighs back with both hands. Smoke ate her like it was his last supper. Annie watched with her breasts in each hand, cupping them like he loved. He loved it when she rolled her breasts and pointed them up so he could take in the beauty of her big areolas and perk nipples. Smoke missed wedging his big dick between them and pouring the Sweet Ember.

Sweet Ember smells like desire in summer dusk—thick, slow-burning, and sticky-sweet. Like brown sugar melting on a cast iron skillet. Like crushed clove in a warm palm. Like the smoke of a love letter burned and inhaled.

The scent lingers, curling behind the ears, at the collarbone, between thighs. It blends with the skin’s own chemistry, deepening as bodies warm. On Smoke, it sharpens—the cedar and tobacco becoming heavier, headier. On Annie, it sweetens, bringing out the molasses and vanilla, making her skin smell edible, holy.

Smoke took a breath, “You ‘bout to cum, I can taste it, baby, just let it go. Give me what the fuck I want.”

Annie was in paradise. She’d had her pussy licked and sucked twice in one day. Once by Amelia. And now her handsome husband. Her Papa Smoke.

“Papa my puss cummin’…”

The defeated tone of her voice followed by her sweet moans sent Smoke over the edge.

He climbed up, mouth crashing into hers, then flipped her onto her stomach like she weighed nothing. Smoke popped her on the rump, the sensation stinging from the lingering water against her skin.

“You want me to stop?” he rasped in her ear.

“No,” she gasped.

“Say it.”

“Don’t stop.”

“Say it.”

“Don’t stop, Papa, please don’t stop. Get in this pussy.”

“Then I’m a take this pussy.”

Smoke growled, sliding into her from behind in one slow, claiming thrust. Her back arched, hands gripping the headboard as he drove into her—deep, hard, full. His hips snapped against her ass, one hand against the side of her neck, the other hand wrapped tight in her hair.

Every thrust pushed a moan from her lips.

“You mine tonight,” he snarled, dragging his hand down her back, “Say it.”

“I’m yours,” she choked out. “Yours, Elijah—”

He slammed deeper.

“Say my name again.”

“Elijah.”

“Louder.”

“Elijah!”

“Look at you—back bent, ass high, beggin’ for it without sayin’ a word. You so goddamn beautiful, baby. This body? This body was made to be loved like this. You hear me?”

He grinned, kissed the side of her throat, then flipped her again—face to face now. His eyes, wild and full of dark heat, bore into hers. He kisses her shoulder, then bites gently, hand slipping beneath her belly to stroke where she’s most sensitive. He grips her hips tighter, pulling her back onto him with a grunt.

“Wanna see your face when you cum.”

He lifted her legs over his shoulders and drove in again, watching every expression as she came undone beneath him. The bed rocked beneath them, and the room was soaked in moans, skin slapping, gasps for air.

Then—

He slowed.

Pressed his forehead to hers.

Let the rhythm draw out again—long, deep, possessive strokes.

The moon poured over their skin, igniting the bronze and brown of their bodies like they’d been sculpted in flame. Their melanin shimmered beneath the silver light, sweat and want gleaming like how Sweet Ember across the curves of Annie’s stomach, the thick of her thighs, the swell of her breasts.

“I see you,” he whispered, breath ragged. “Ain’t never stopped. Ain’t never will.”

“Don’t ever stop, Papa. Don’t…don’t ever stop…shit, Elijah!”

“Didn’t I tell you?” he growls softly in her ear. “Didn’t I tell you I was gon’ do you good tonight? Mm. Got you moanin’ into the sheets like you don’t know what to do with yourself.”

Annie was teary eyed and speechless. That Yoruba, Creole, and English was trapped in her throat with how good Smoke was making love to her.

“Goddamn, Annie…This pussy always know how to take me. So fuckin’ soft. So wet. You feel that?”

“Mm… Elijah… yes.” She moaned.

Her breath catches as he thrusts deep.

“I’m doin’ it good, baby?”

He drives in deeper. She gasps, body arching.

“You said you’d do me good… and you doin’ it, baby… Lord…”

“Yeah… that’s what I thought. Grippin’ me like you ain’t ready to let go….moonlight all over you. Skin shinin’ like it’s been kissed by fire. You don’t even know what you do to me.”

He grinds into her, slow and heavy. She shudders beneath him.

“You got me meltin’… legs shakin’… You got me callin’ out ya’ name…”

He begins to stroke deeper, slower—his voice becoming thick with emotion.

“You makin’ me feel like I ain’t never had no woman before. And maybe I ain’t, not like this. Not the way you take me in. Not the way you make me lose my whole goddamn mind.”

He brushes a damp curl from her forehead, then rests his forehead against hers, breath shuddering.

“I told you I was gon’ have you walkin’ funny,” he whispers, grinning slightly. “And I ain’t nowhere near done.”

Then he kisses her hard, possessive. His hand curls around her throat—not to choke, just to hold—and his next thrust sends her gasping into his mouth.

“You mine, Annie. Mine ‘til the stars fall.”

“Take me, Elijah… Make me forget where I am…Just don’t let me forget who I’m with.”

Annie cupped his face as he moved inside her, their climax building again—slow and thick and soul-deep. She cried out his name as she came, her walls clenching tight around him. He followed with a low, broken moan, emptying into her as his whole body trembled.

Their bodies were still tangled, limbs heavy and wet with sweat. The bedsheets were half-kicked to the floor. The window remained open, and the night air curled in like a lullaby, carrying with it the scent of honeysuckle and damp earth.

Smoke didn’t pull out.

He stayed inside her—deep, slow-breathing, his chest rising and falling against hers. One hand cupped the back of her head, fingers slipping through the damp coils of her hair. The other held her thigh, thumb stroking slow circles against the softness of her skin.

Annie’s breath was still catching in small waves. She rested her cheek against his shoulder, her lips brushing his collarbone.

“Damn,” she whispered.

Smoke chuckled low in his throat. “That what you got to say?”

She smiled, eyes fluttering shut. “That’s all I can say.”

He shifted slightly, just enough to slide deeper. She gasped—soft, not in pain, but from the sensation of still being filled. Still connected.

“You want me to stay like this?” he murmured.

“Mmhmm,” she nodded. “Don’t pull out yet. Not just yet.”

He kissed her forehead, slow and lingering.

“I ain’t never loved a woman like I love you,” he said, his voice raw.

Annie opened her eyes.

“You love me?”

He looked down at her. “I thought you knew.”

She swallowed thickly. “Sometimes I forget I’m allowed to have that.”

“You don’t just have it,” he said, brushing his nose along her temple. “You own it.”

They stayed wrapped together like that, his length still inside her, their bodies breathing as one, until sleep came in soft waves. The moonlight spilled over them, igniting their skin with silver, as if the heavens themselves had seen what they shared and blessed it.

They stayed locked like that, trembling in each other’s arms.

Then, slowly, he rolled to his side and pulled her with him—her back to his chest, his arms wrapped around her belly.

They lay bathed in moonlight.

Their breaths slowed.

But their hearts thundered on—tangled in sweat, salt, spirit, and something so ancient, not even the stars could name it.

And though tomorrow would pull Annie away…

Tonight, she gave him every part of herself.

And he received it like it was the last water on earth.

The house had quieted to a hush by the time Amelia settled onto her bed, one leg tucked beneath her, the other stretched out across the patchwork quilt. The oil lamp on her bedside table cast a soft amber glow, flickering shadows across the walls and the spines of her old books.

Stack was pacing slow, lazy circles through her room like a big cat with nowhere to be. He picked things up and put them down without real purpose—opened her music box again and let it chime its soft, broken melody. Then he clicked his lighter open and shut, open and shut, as if the rhythm steadied him. His eyes kept drifting back to her—watching her legs shift under her nightgown, her bare foot flexing as she adjusted her seat.

She pretended not to notice.

Her focus remained on the leather-bound journal resting across her lap—one of her grandmother’s oldest. The pages were filled with looping cursive, herbs smudged into the margins, candle wax stuck between spells. Amelia’s finger traced a line of ink that read:

For fire without flame: mix crushed red pepper, cedar smoke, and the tears of a woman scorned. Speak her name three times, and no man shall ever rest in her arms again.

She shivered a little.

In front of her, she heard the creak of floorboards.

Then—

Tickles.

She squealed as Stack’s fingers brushed the arch of her foot, light and devilish.

“Stack!” she laughed, pulling her leg up, but he caught it.

“Mm,” he hummed, crouching at the foot of the bed, “You so serious tonight. Thought I’d be the reminder that you got skin.”

He held her foot gently in his big hand, rough thumb brushing the soft pad of her sole. Then, without warning, he kissed the top of it. Just once. Warm and unhurried.

Amelia blinked, thrown off by the tenderness of it.

Then another kiss. This time just above her ankle.

Then higher—his lips grazing the side of her calf, his breath hot against her skin.

She swallowed, her fingers sliding to mark her place in the journal, but her focus was gone now.

“What you readin’?” he asked against her leg, his voice low, molasses-thick.

She hesitated, “My grandmother’s hoodoo book. One of her oldest ones. She used to write notes in the margins when things didn’t go right.”

Stack nodded, still kissing upward. “That the same grandmother raised you?”

“Mhm.” Amelia smiled faintly. “Vivienne. She taught me how to brew healing teas before I could even write my name. I used to sit at her feet while she read Psalms over herbs like they were alive.”

Stack paused, resting his chin gently against her knee. The lamp’s glow hit her just right—golden and warm—and for a second, she looked like something caught between a dream and a flame. His eyes didn’t leave her.

“She the one who gave you your shine?”

Amelia blinked, “My shine?”

He nodded slowly, brushing his thumb along her skin. “Yeah… that light. That thing you got around you. I don’t know what to call it. But it’s there.”

She tilted her head, intrigued but cautious, “What kind of light you think I got?”

Stack’s voice dropped, thick and reverent, “It ain’t somethin’ I see. Not with my eyes, not really. It’s like…I feel it when you walk in a room. Makes the air shift. Animals go still. Time slows up a little.”

He paused again, his thumb still drawing slow circles just below her knee.

“I see it in your skin when you laugh. Hear it in your voice when you speak over tea like it’s spellwork. You shine, Amelia. You glow. And I don’t think that’s just ‘cause you fine. I think that’s somethin’ in you.”

Her breath caught. She looked away for a second, her fingers tightening slightly on the edge of the journal in her lap.

“You don’t know what you talkin’ about,” she whispered, but it lacked conviction.

Stack gave a soft chuckle, “Maybe not. But I know how I feel when I’m near you.”

She looked back at him.

“And how’s that?”

He stared at her like he was trying to memorize the shape of her soul. “Like I’m standin’ in front of a fire that don’t burn… but still changes me.”

Amelia swallowed. Her heart was thudding now, not from fear—but from being seen.

Deeply.

More deeply than she’d ever been seen before.

She lowered her hand and brushed her fingers over the edge of his jaw, voice trembling just a little.

“My grandmère…she did give me somethin’. But I don’t think even she knew what it really was.”

Stack nodded, eyes never leaving hers, “Don’t matter if she named it or not. I see it. I feel it. Every time I touch you, it’s like I’m touchin’ light,” He leaned in again and kissed the inside of her thigh, slow and soft, “Reckon I’d like to hear more ‘bout her sometime.”

Amelia reached down, her hand brushing his jaw.

“You stay the night, and I’ll tell you one of her stories. The one about the bottle tree that kept whisperin’ her name.”

Stack grinned against her skin, “You tryin’ to scare me or seduce me?”

“Ain’t it always a little of both?”

He laughed, deep in his chest, and rose from his crouch, easing himself beside her on the bed. He took the journal from her lap and closed it gently, setting it on the nightstand.

“Tomorrow,” he said.

“Tomorrow,” she agreed.

Then she turned to him, let her head rest against his shoulder, her fingers finding his under the covers.

The music box wound down in the corner.

And somewhere in the house, the faint scent of cedar smoke lingered.

Amelia was curled against Stack’s chest, her head tucked under his jaw, their limbs loosely tangled under the thin sheet. His hand moved slow along her spine, trailing patterns she couldn’t name, fingers sometimes pausing to twirl one of her damp curls around his knuckle. She thought he might be drifting off.

But then he spoke, voice low and gravel-soft, barely louder than a breath.

“You ever believe in things you wasn’t supposed to talk about?”

Amelia blinked up at him, still hazy from the edge of sleep.

“Like what?”

Stack’s hand slowed, “When I was about… six? Maybe seven? Smoke and me used to sneak down by the bayou, out past where the cypress trees thicken and the ground gets soft under your feet. Real still out there. Too still sometimes.”

Amelia nodded slowly. She knew the kind of still he meant.

“One afternoon, I stayed behind after Smoke ran ahead. I was sittin’ on a rock, missin’ my momma again. It hit me sometimes… that ache. Like she was just outta reach but I couldn’t touch her.”

He paused. His fingers skimmed the curve of her waist, thumb settling lightly just beneath her breast.

“Anyway… that’s when I saw her.”

Amelia tilted her face up slightly. “Her?”

“Mmhm. A woman. Not like any I’d ever seen before. Skin gold and brown like riverstone after rain. Hair long and wild, blowin’ though there wasn’t no wind. She was dancin’, just beneath the trees. Twirlin’ like she ain’t had a care in the world. Like joy itself was pourin’ outta her feet.”

His voice dipped into something more reverent now, distant, “She… she glowed. Not like fire. Not like sunlight. She just…lit the world around her. The leaves. The water. My chest. Made everythang feel warm again, even though I’d been cryin’.”

Amelia stilled.

Stack’s jaw flexed as he remembered, “She looked right at me. Smiled, real soft. Then she waved her hand and said, ‘Everything’s gon’ be alright, baby boy.’ Just like that. Like she knew me. Like she meant it.”

He exhaled, long and slow, “I never told nobody. Not Smoke, not Annie, not my daddy. Folks would’ve laughed, said I made it up. Said I was just seein’ things.”

Amelia swallowed, “But you know it was real.”

“I do,” he said, with a conviction that surprised even her, “I ain’t never felt peace like that again. Not ‘til…”

He stopped, hesitated.

She looked up at him, “Not ‘til what?”

His hand returned to her back, stroking lower now, possessive, protective.

“Not ‘til you.”

A soft ache bloomed behind her ribs. Her throat tightened.

“Where was this? Where you saw her?”

Stack glanced toward the window, where the moonlight spilled across the floorboards like a path. “Out past Tchula Lake. Not far from a little four-way crossroads lined with willow trees. Place feelin’ wrong and right at the same time. Like magic and memory both live there.”

Amelia closed her eyes.

She knew that place. Her grandmother had once whispered that fae linger there—that the veil was thin along the water, where cypress trees root into more than just soil. She hadn’t been there since she was a girl.

“Amelia…” Stack’s voice pulled her back.

“Yeah?”

“I think maybe I saw somethin’ I wasn’t meant to. Or maybe I was meant to and just didn’t know what it meant yet.”

Her voice came out a whisper. “Maybe you still don’t.”

His fingers brushed her jaw, tipping her face up toward his.

“I ain’t never stopped thinkin’ about her,” he said, “Not once. Not ‘til now. ‘Cause now… now I think that light might’ve found me again.”

Her breath hitched, but she didn’t speak. Didn’t trust herself to.

Stack kissed her forehead, then pulled her tighter into his chest, tucking her beneath his arm like something precious.

“G’night, moon girl,” he murmured, half in jest, half in wonder.

And with his arm wrapped around her and her cheek pressed to his chest, Amelia finally let herself fall asleep. She leaned into him as the hush of night settled around them, her head resting on Stack’s shoulder, one hand still laced with his beneath the coverlet. Her breathing softened, deepened. Within minutes, sleep had pulled her under.

Stack stayed still.

He didn’t want to move. Not yet.

She was warm against him—soft, curved, steady. Her curls had spilled across his chest, a few strands sticking to the fine sheen of sweat that clung to them both. The oil lamp on the bedside table had burned low, casting long, flickering shadows up the walls, golden and slow.

He reached for one of her curls, coiling it gently around his finger.

There was something about her that wouldn’t leave him alone.

Not just the way she kissed, or the way she gasped his name when his fingers found the right place. Not even how sweet she smelled when she’d been working in the garden all morning, herbs clinging to her skin.

It was something else. Something in the way she watched people. The way animals didn’t flinch when she got close. The way her touch lingered in places long after she’d gone.

Stack had been with women. Slept beside a few. But he never stayed the whole night. Not unless he was too drunk to get home. He didn’t choose sleep like this. He didn’t seek it.

But tonight, with her weight curled into him and her breath fluttering against his ribs, he didn’t want to go nowhere.

He shifted carefully and reached across her to pull the journal from the nightstand—her grandmother’s book.

The leather was cracked and worn, edges curled like it had lived through fire and rain. He opened it.

Symbols. Words that looked like English but weren’t quite. Ingredients he half-recognized—calamus root, dragon’s blood, hyssop. He didn’t understand any of it, not the way Amelia did. Not in his hands.

But he wanted to.

He flipped through the pages slow, reverent, like maybe by holding it he could get closer to her. Not just her skin. But the parts she hadn’t shared yet. The deeper parts. The parts that whispered instead of moaned.

He closed the book after a while, eyes moving back to her sleeping face. Her full lips, parted just slightly. The slow rise of her chest beneath the sheet.

“I don’t know what you are,” he whispered, barely loud enough for the room to hear, “but you ain’t just a girl.”

He let that truth sit in the silence.

Then he moved.

Quietly, he unbuttoned his shirt, slipped it off his shoulders, and folded it once before setting it on the floor. His pants followed. He climbed back under the coverlet, bare-chested, the heat of Mississippi night wrapping around them both.

Amelia shifted slightly, sighing in her sleep. Her hand found his again, even in the dark.

He held it.

Let his head rest back against the pillow.

And for the second time in his life—maybe the first by choice—Elias “Stack” Moore let sleep come to him beside a woman not out of lust, but out of peace.

Out of want for something deeper than flesh.

Out of need.

And the journal on the nightstand pulsed with quiet energy, as if it, too, had taken notice.

The morning came heavy with dew and silence.

The kitchen smelled like sweet mint and cedar ash— the last remnants of the incense Annie had burned before sunrise. She stood by the stove, hair wrapped in a deep green scarf, her skirt cinched tight at the waist, boots laced high. The letter sat folded on the table, held down by a tin of red clover.

Smoke leaned in the doorway, arms crossed, bare-chested, his jeans riding low, belt slung loose.

His eyes didn’t leave her.

“You sure I shouldn’t come?” he asked, stepping closer, “I can put the juke on hold.”

Annie zipped the bag and turned to face him.

She cupped his face, thumb brushing the stubble on his cheek.

“You already came back, Elijah. You got work to do here. With your brother. With her. And you need a new shave. I’ll handle that when I get back.”

“Annie…”

She smiled softly and stood on her toes to kiss him — long, deep, her fingers sliding into his hair.

“You trust me?” she asked when they broke apart.

“Always,” he murmured.

“Then trust I’ll be fine.”

They packed the truck together.

Smoke tossed the bag in the back beside a small trunk of conjure tools wrapped in cloth and bone charms.

Annie tied her scarf tighter, smoothing the wrinkles in her skirt with steady hands.

“Train leaves at eight,” she said, “We got time.”

The drive was peaceful, Annie’s hand in his, windows down. The station was quiet. Just the sound of birds and the distant rumble of the engine coming down the tracks. Steam hissed. Metal whined.

Smoke walked her to the platform in silence, one hand on the small of her back, the other clenched at his side.

When they reached the edge, she turned to face him again.

“Watch the house,” she said, “And the shop.”

“I will.”

“And watch her.”

She didn’t say Amelia’s name, but it burned in the space between them.

Smoke’s brows furrowed.

“You sure—”

Annie stepped in close. Pressed her chest to his, whispering in his ear.

“I want you to enjoy her. If she needs you… even like that… you give it. She trust you. So do I.”

Smoke exhaled—slow and sharp. Annie slid her hand down, cupping his hardness through his jeans.

“You hard already,” she teased, “Ain’t no shame in that.”

She kissed him one last time—slower, with meaning.

“I love you, Elijah Moore.”

“I love you, Annie Moore.”

She stepped onto the train with her bag and trunk, turned at the top of the steps, and waved.

“Tell my girl I’ll be back soon.”

Smoke didn’t speak.

He just watched.

As the train pulled off, he reached under his shirt. Smoke pulled out the mojo bag she’d made him before he left for Chicago.

He held it to his lips.

Kissed it once.

“I got errythang,” he said under his breath, “I got our home…the shack…our baby grave…I promise.”

Smoke got back in his truck and drove home.

Smoke had only meant to close his eyes for a moment.

The bed was warm. The house too quiet. Annie’s absence settled deep in his chest like a stone in water. He stretched out, hand on his chest, boots still on.

And then…

He was somewhere else.

Stay tuned for 5.2...

@blackisy2k @thickeeparker @theereinawrites @angelin-dis-guise @thee-germanpeach @harleycativy @slut4smokemoore09 @readingaddict1290 @blackamericanprincessy @aristasworld @avoidthings @brownsugarcoffy @ziayamikaelson @kindofaintrovert @raysogroovy @overhere94 @joysofmyworld @an-ever-evolving-wanderer @starcrossedxwriter @marley1773 @bombshellbre95 @nybearsworld @brincessbarbie @kholdkill @honggihwa @tianna-blanche @wewantsumheaad @theethighpriestess @nearsightedbaddie @charmedthoughts @beaboutthataction @girlsneedlovingfanfics @cancerianprincess @candelalanegra22 @mrsknowitallll @dashhoney25 @pinkprincessluminary @chefjessypooh @sk1121-blog1 @contentfiend @kaystacks17 @bratzlele @kirayuki22 @bxrbie1 @blackerthings @angryflowerwitch @baddiegiii @syko-jpg @inkdrippeddreams

[unholyxthoughts]

The Hoodoo Apprentice

Summary: Amelia packed her things and took a train to Clarksdale Mississippi to reunite with an old friend, Annie. Annie promised she’d teach Amelia the art of Hoodoo. After a month, Smoke and Stack return with a plan to open a Juke Joint.

Warnings: SMUT

Part Four

Marylin Jenkins climbed the short, rickety steps leading into Annie’s Apothecary. The pussy willow’s were in rare form that day, leaving white pedals everywhere, some of it even leading into Annie’s shop. The wind chimes swayed creating whimsical, meditating sounds.

Marylin removed her straw hat, smoothing down her coarse hair that she wore in four plaits. Annie and Marylin used to hang around a lot before she married her husband, Deacon, at the tender age of eighteen. Five children later and one on the way, she didn’t have time to go out and enjoy herself.

Marylin’s tawny skin glistened like she’d been slathered in fish grease. Her light brown eyes fell upon a woven basket with a label attached to it that read: FREE FANS FOR THE HEAT.

She helped herself to one, waving it all over her face. It cooled her a little, but The Delta fought hard to smother you in its oppressively humid conditions. Almost suffocating you with the thick, blazing air. Marylin helped herself to looking around, wondering what she needed to buy while she was on her way back home to her children.

Bam–Bam needed his hair cut.

Sonya scuffed her knees playing in the yard the other day.

Baby Tina was almost fresh out of milk.

Beatrice and Belle had a habit of getting into things they shouldn’t.

Marylin halted her footsteps in front of a bundle of sage. As she picked up one to buy, footsteps leading out of a closet behind her caught her ear. Marylin turned to find Annie’s helper, Ameila, exiting the walk in closet, fixing a checkered half-apron around her hourglass waistline. She wore a cotton field dress in a pastel yellow color, the ruffled straps hanging from her slender shoulders.

Behind her came a man. A man identical to Annie’s husband.

Elias ‘Stack’ Moore.

Marylin’s features were pinched with resentment. She’d heard talk about the Smoke Stack Twins returning to the Delta from the Windy City, and the thought of seeing Stack again brought back suppressed memories of how she used to be his lover until he dropped her like a bad habit.

And then she ran into Deacon’s arms after he’d confessed to her drunk over corn liquor how much he had a big ol’ crush on her. A robust, man with sable skin and a kind smile. Memories of Stack having his way with her wherever and whenever he could, even with his crew hanging around, stirred something in her. Something akin to wanting that old thing back.

Ameila smoothed down her curly hair before tightening the black bow that held all that dense hair together and down her back. She flashed Marylin a kind smile, sweat sheening the junction between her throat and collar bones. Stack occupied himself with studying a conjure jar filled with whatever Annie put together. A label on it read: ESSENCE OF BEND-OVER.

Marylin could see from the corner of her eye Stack closing the fly to his pinstriped pants, adjusting his erection, tucking it in a way where it wouldn’t be noticeable. He cut his eyes at her and did a double take, recognizing her straight away. He scratched the back of his neck awkwardly, cursing under his breath. Marylin gave Ameila a practiced smile, but in the back of her mind, she was judging her. Judging because she knew exactly what Stack and her had been doing in that closet.

“How can I help ya’ today, Marylin?” Ameila inquired, a hospitable smile on her lips.

Lips that were snug around Stack’s log she was sure.

“I’ll take a bundle of sage. Annie got some more of that Sachet Powder I like?”

“Of course, right over here,” Ameila guided Marylin over to a section of the store where she could help herself, “Sure that’s all ya’ need?”

Stack perched himself on top of a wooden stool, rolling a cigarette. A black fedora with a red feather sat lazily on his head, tipped to the side, revealing a crisp fade. He had on a snug, white T-shirt and two–toned Oxford shoes on his feet in white and black.

Marylin gave Ameila a curt nod, “That’s all…where’s Annie anyway?”

“At the house. She’s preparing lunch. Asked me to look over the store.” Ameila revealed.

“Alright,” Marylin’s nosy eyes danced between the both of them, “I’ll take this and be on my way.”

The sound of Stack lighting a match hit Marylin’s ears. Ameila tallied the till.

“That’ll be two dollars.”

Marylin paid her money and accepted a brown paper bag with the things she needed. She tucked it beneath her arm before turning to leave.

“Marylin? How you be…”

Marylin paused on her pursuit. She gave Stack a tight smile. He flashed his characteristic smile, Mr. Dimples successfully pulling her in. But Marylin despised him.

“All’s well, Elias. You back for good?” Marylin asked with a condescending smile.

“I am. Gotta deal with the devil we know. How them kids?”

Marylin gave a faint shrug, “Being kids. Hope you stay on the straight path this time around, Elias.”

“I’ll take your advice…”

“Will you?” Marylin sassed.

Stack frowned, “Depends on what mood I’m in.”

Amelia busied herself with stocking empty jars in a cupboard for later use. She glanced between Marylin and Stack, noticing straight away that there was tension between them. She rolled her eyes with a sigh .

“Have a good rest of your day now,” Stack said as Marylin walked away. It held a mischievous edge to it.

Marylin glanced at him with uneasy eyes, “You do the same.”

“Tell Deacon I said quit hidin’. been a minute since he been ‘round.”

Marylin paused within the doorway, a look of disdain crossing her face.

“He’s busy being a father to his children and working the fields. Ain’t got time to be runnin’ around.”

Stack threw his hands up with faux surrender, a pout of his lips and an exaggerated lift of his brows.

“Yeah, I wouldn’t know ‘bout that.” Stack replied.

Marylin glared at him before descending the stairs. She made her way to her car, mumbling something Stack was sure to be a string of insults.

“Bitter bitch,” Stack took a hit of his cigarette, “Ain’t my fault your man got side pussy. Maybe if ya’ shit wasn’t so lose he’d stay happy.”

“Stack!”

Ameila threw a pen at him that Stack tried to dodge but it hit him in the face. He picked it up from the floor and tossed it back, watching it bounce off of Ameila’s hip.

“That was so mean.” Ameila said.

“You think I shoulda stayed in the closet?”

“Yes,” Ameila argued, “Now she gonna run and tell her friends what a hussy I am.”

“Like you care what people think, Princess.”

Ameila smiled sheepishly.

“The sooner ya’ find out how real I keep it the better.” Stack replied with a smug smile.

Ameila put the money away and let down her hair. She fluffed it out before wrapping it around in a bun. Stack watched her with attentive eyes.

Before Marylin showed up, they were getting busy in the closet. Stack had Ameila propped up on a stack of wooden crates while his dick slow stroked her. They didn’t want to make too much noise so they could listen out for customers. Stack also wanted to hear the gushy sound her pussy makes. He wanted to savor the sensation of being enveloped in her warmth. He pulled out with a groan of frustration while Ameila left him with a cream–coated dick.

“C’mon…”

Ameila followed the suggestive tilt of Stack’s head, motioning for them to get back in the closet to finish where they left off.

“What if somebody else comes in? I have to keep an eye on things, Stack.”

“Ain’t like we wouldn’t know it, Princess.”

“Stack,” Ameila rolled her eyes with a shake of her head, “What if them little girls show up?”

“You think Annie and Smoke give a fuck when they be up in here all nasty?”

Stack stood up, opened his fly, and whipped out his long dick. Ameila froze, eyes following the back and forth sway of that thick pleasure stick.

“You saying no to this? I was just starting to make it cream, baby.”

Ameila’s eyes flicked left and right.

How could she say no?

“We gotta hurry, Stack.”

Ameila ran into the closet, Stack popping her on the rump, causing her to giggle and slap his hand away. They left the closet door cracked so they could hear better.

“Back on up there…”

Stack picked Ameila up at the waist and flopped her down on the wooden crates. It was positioned in a way for her to lean back against the shelf, giving her room to bring her knees up and tilt her hips. Stack settled between her thighs, one hand keeping a leg up and the other on the base of his dick. He slapped her clit with the tip, watching the way her fat pussy lips jiggled from the impact.

Her clit seemed to grow before his eyes.

“I like you like this…I can see your pretty face and watch how I fuck you.”

Stack’s big dick slipped back into her warmth and he immediately started stroking her. One hand positioned on his lower back, Stack bent at the knee, dick curving down and down up and up.

Ameila braced herself against the shelf, tiny gasps and faint whispers of “ooo, dick so good” “got me so wet” escaping her pouty lips.

“Tryna fight the feelin’ I know ya’ ass wanted. Talkin’ ‘bout, what if them little girls show up? Like you care…”

Creek.

Stack peeked around the door, stilling his hips for a second. He thought he’d heard something. Ameila could feel Stack’s dick pulsating against her walls.

“Look who’s talking.” Amelia teased.

“Shut up and take this dick.” Stack threw back at her.

He sat deep in her to shut her up. Amelia squeezed her eyes shut and her mouth dropped open.

“Daddy…” she moaned.

“That’s right…”

Stack looked down at Ameila. He leaned forward, his full, lips that felt like a cloud pecking Ameila’s pouty lips softly. Stack started moving his hips again, the sound of the wooden crates rocking back against the shelf.

“Stack…fuck me…”

“Fuck this pussy?” Stack whispered.

“Yes…”

He hooked both arms around her legs and pumped faster. A creamy ring settled at the base of his dick each time he filled her to the brim. Ameila watched with surprise, eyes wide and shiny with unshed tears.

“Stack why you fuck me so good? You make my pussy so tingly, daddy…”

Her whiny voice and soft moans increased as Stack locked her legs in a strong hold, raising her lower half from the wooden crates. He bottomed out, bottom lip between his teeth and brows knitted together.

“Let sum other people show up, don’t give a fuck,” Stack shit–talked with a deep tremble in his voice, “I’m in my pussy, this my pussy, my shit, don’t care who comin’ in, fuck that…”

Ameila was loud and clear with her cries of pleasure. She couldn’t hold back.

“Stack, I think I’m leaking!” Ameila panicked.

Stack widened his stance. He folded Ameila, the hard wood of the crate digging into her lower back. He grabbed a hold of the shelf and fucked her hard. Like a leaky faucet, Ameila drenched Stack’s lower abs. She buried her face against his chest, squeals of pleasure muffled.

“Cum all on this big dick…all over it…” Stack ordered through clenched teeth.

They locked eyes, a frozen look of ecstasy written all over her beautiful face. Her body jerked beneath him with her release.

Stack was right behind her.

He pulled out and covered her little patch of pubic hair with cum. They fought to catch their breaths, the sweltering heat and humid wind making it hard to capture a lungful. Stack’s face dripped sweat onto Ameila’s cleavage. Moist strands of her hair lay flat against her forehead.

Ameila tapped Stack’s chest. Her thighs were burning and cramping up. Stack gently lowered her legs before taking a step back to adjust himself. His throat was bathed with sweat, adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed spit. Amelia fixed her dress, taking her time getting off the wooden crates. She made her way towards the closet door, opening it fully.

“Ya’ll finish in there?”

Ameila jerked back with surprise.

Smoke was standing in the entryway of the back door to Annie’s shack. He wore a flannel buttoned shirt with the sleeves ripped off and a pair of faded coveralls with the straps hanging loose. On his feet were work boots. Ameila caught a glimpse of his mojo bag resting between his pecs through the opening of his shirt. His arms were thick and muscled, slathered in sweat. A toasty brown.

Stack peeked his head around the door with a guilty smile.

“Annie got lunch ready. Tamales.”

Smoke lit a cigarette with practiced precision, eyes hard and unwavering on Amelia, completely ignoring his little brother.

“Make sure you ain’t leave no mess in there,” Smoke pointed his cigarette towards the scandalous closet, cigarette ash falling to the floor, “Wipe ya’ cum up and get it orderly for my woman.”

Stack appeared, hands in his pockets and a dandy gait.

“Now hold on, Smoke,” He gestured with his toothpick between his fingers, “How much mess you and Annie make in there and not clean up?”

Ameila giggled behind her hand.

“Nigga do what I said.”

Smoke caught her laughing and Ameila went silent.

“Come on down to the house and help Annie set the table. Me and Stack gon’ lock up for now.”

“Yes, Smoke.”

Ameila folded her hands behind her back and swept past Smoke in the door. He didn’t move out of the way immediately. Ameila’s eyes flicked between his and Stack’s.

Her heart raced.

Smoke finally stepped to the side.

“Go on,” he tipped his head, eyes blazing.

Ameila made her way down the steps and followed the trail to the house without a backward glance.

Smoke took a hit of his cigarette. Stack tucked his T-shirt in his pants and went to grab some cleaning supplies for the mess Ameila made. Smoke walked with heavy footsteps towards the front, grabbing a brass ring with keys hanging from it to lock up.

Stack was crouched down, scrubbing the floorboards.

Smoke watched his brother closely.

“I’m a need a favor from you, little bro’.”

Stack smirked up at Smoke.

“What I gotta do now, Serg?” Stack joked.

“Take Annie, Amelia, and myself to the train station tomorrow morning. We going to Mound Bayou for a day to do some shopping for the Juke opening.”

“And you need me to stay behind to check on things?”

“That’s right. Think you can handle that while I’m gone?”

“I got it, Smoke. Just make sure you look after Princess.”

Smoke tilted his head.

“You givin’ her pet names now?”

“When she giving me good pussy I sure am.”

Smoke curled his top lip faintly before taking another drag of his cigarette.

“Yeah, well, Annie want her to come.”

“Why? So she can stick her tongue in her cooze?”

Stack cracked up at his own joke. He stood, dusting his hands off. Smoke’s silence at Stack’s disrespectful remark made him pause.

“Hold on…why you ain’t jack me up?”

Smoke simply stared at Stack.

That’s when it dawned on him.

“She did?” Stack questioned with astonishment, “Well I’ll be! That girl got sugar walls! Annie really got a taste of that?”

“Caught ‘em on the back porch that night. Annie was on her hands and knees, moving her head in it.”

“Gahleee…”

Stack chuckled. He blew air out his mouth, eyes crinkled with astonishment. He looked at Smoke with a deep smile.

“You okay wit’ your wife doin’ that?”

“As long as she happy.”

“That ain’t answer my question…”

Stack left the closet. He tapped Smoke on the chest before leaving the shack.

“I’d do anything for Annie.” Smoke finally spoke as they approached the house.

Stack turned to face him, he tipped his hat a little lower over his eyes to shield himself from the sun. Smoke squinted at him from where he stood, unable to hide away from the suns rays.

“Anything? That comes with an open mind…so you okay with her seeing other people? That don’t make you angry? As possessive as you are over that woman. Hell, you was ready to kill me for fessing up ‘bout the crush I had on her.”

“I ain’t angry, fool. You see how happy she is? I’m happy she get to smile. I left her for seven years, Stack. If that gal can keep my woman happy while I’m gone handlin’ business wit’ yo ass what I look like taking that away from her?”

Stack folded his arms, nodding his head at his brother’s response.

“I get ya’ Smoke. Annie a good woman. Ameila a good woman too.” Stack said.

“She seem good,” Smoke replied, placing a fresh cigarette behind his ear.

Stack rocked back and forth on his feet, oxfords tapping along the dirt. A slow, mischievous smile crept through his lips.

“If it was me, I’d fuck ‘em both. Get a taste of that happiness. You need it grump.”

Smoke’s eyes narrowed at Stack.

“She good…”

Stack drew closer to whisper.

“Nice and tight…a squirter…”

Smoke walked around Stack with a faint grin. Something unheard of with him. Stack was one of the few to pull it out of him.

“Let’s go get these tamales while they hot.” Smoke said.

“Don’t change the subject, Smoke!” Stack shouted after his brother.

“Then I got this one right here…”

Stack pointed to a tattoo of his military numbers on his left shoulder blade. His second tattoo was his social security number on his ankle. He lifted his foot up on the dining table, pulled his sock down, and revealed it.

Ameila stroked the tattoo on his back. Annie entered from the back door, wiping her hands on a towel hanging from her shoulder. She spotted Stack with his foot on the table and before she could rip him a new one, Smoke knocked his foot off with a hard hand.

Ameila allowed her gaze to drift over Annie.

It’s been more than three days since they’d had a taste of each other. Annie seemed to be thinking the same, because when her eyes locked with Amelia’s a look of absolute lust crossed her features.

Annie was glowing.

She wore her favorite color; green. A green maxi skirt with a matching top that hung from her shoulders. She wore a kinky fro with the tips swirled into tiny bantus. Her favorite chandelier earrings with tiny emeralds in her ears. Annie mentioned how Smoke bought her those when he got his first taste of real money.

Earlier in the shack, against Annie’s alter, their bodies pressed together heatedly, smoke from her incense billowing around them. They breathed heavily as their lips pressed together hungrily. Amelia could taste their shared breath, feel the thud of their combined heartbeat as they fumbled to take off one another’s clothes. Unfortunately, the sound of footsteps approaching broke them apart.

“…Smoke got the same tattoos,” Stack continued.

Amelia broke Annie’s gaze with reluctance. Stack’s foot beneath the table stroked her ankle. Ameila hid her face, smiling.

“Smoke, can you pick up my golds from that jeweler? I went down about a week ago and they should be ready by now.”

Smoke took a seat at the table.

“More golds? Nigga, you don’t have enough?”

“Never can have enough, Smoke. Ask Jack Johnson. That nigga got a mouthful and they permanent.”

Annie positioned herself behind Smoke. She massaged his shoulders, then she leaned forward to plant a kiss to his forehead. Stack cut his eyes away when they started tongue kissing. Smoke almost dropped his cigarette. Stack caught it, taking a hit. Ameila watched them, thighs tightly clenched in her seat.

Annie broke the kiss first before dragging her fingers over Smoke’s hair.

“I like you like this, all scruffy,” Annie whispered seductively.

“He need that shit done,” Stack said, “let me hook you up before you leave tomorrow.”

Smoke kissed his teeth, “Aight…let me up, baby…”

Annie stepped to the side with both of her hands on her hips. Stack waved for Smoke to follow him out the house.

“We be back. About a hour.” Smoke said.

“I’ll finish packing up. You got more packing to do, Ameila?” Annie asked.

Amelia stood, “I’ll double check.”

Stack and Amelia locked eyes.

“…why don’t both of ya’ll tag along? I can show you how the place lookin’ Annie. I’m closer to the train station on my end anyway. Ya’ll can sleep in Smoke room.”

Stack wrapped a hand around Amelia’s waist, leading her to her room.

“Stack!—”

“It do make sense, baby.” Smoke interrupted, “Plus…we ain’t been in my other room since I got you pregnant…remember?”

Annie melted into Smoke’s arms.

How could she forget.

Smoke delivered soft kisses to Annie’s lips, “C’mon, Annie…I need you all over that room. Break that bed in again…”

Annie inhaled deeply, eyelids shuttering.

“Aight, Smoke. We gotta make sure everything is packed up.” Annie said.

“It will be. Got us a nice room in Mound Bayou too. Double beds…”

Ameila.

“Kay…”

Smoke pecked her forehead. He let Annie go and watched her walk away towards the room before he joined her. Meanwhile, Stack sat at Amelia’s vanity while she took care of last minute tasks.

“Books…I need my blush—can’t forget my hair supplies—”

“Ya’ only staying one damn night, Ameila.” Stack fussed.

“As a woman, we gotta make sure we don’t forget anything! One pair of draws ain’t enough, Stack!”

Stack flashed Amelia a defensive look, “Who said I pack one pair of draws?”

“I’m just saying. It could be two hours, I gotta be prepared.”

Stack played around with his lighter, watching the embers grow the more he flicked his thumb against the roller. Amelia secured her luggage, snapping the leather straps in place. She slipped on her ballerina slippers in a satin beige color with a tiny bow at the top.

Stack dragged his eyes over Ameila as she walked up to him, standing between his legs and stroking his cheeks. Stack dragged his hands up and down Amelia’s ass over her dress.

“You know what I was thinking?” Stack whispered.

Ameila removed his hat, placing it on her vanity. She stroked her hands down his slicked hair.

“What’s that?” Amelia replied with a hushed tone.

“Who you feel like…outta me and Annie…eat ya’ pussy better?”

Amelia leaned back to stare at Stack with a bewildered look. He continued to stroke her backside, thick fingers kneading her cheeks like dough. Amelia was stuck.

“Why you ain’t tell me about Annie…”

Ameila stilled her hands. She locked eyes with Stack, caught off guard by those unexpected words.

“Smoke told you?” Amelia finally spoke.

“He ain’t have to. I figured it out.” Stack replied with a cunning smile littered with gold.

Amelia backed away. Stack rose from her vanity. She tried to occupy herself with making her bed, but Stack was pressed up on her nice and firm. Hot all over, Amelia’s breath hitched when Stack reached around to cup her sex. He made crude gestures with his tongue against her ear, Amelia wiggling as best as she could but she was trapped between the bed and a big dick tomcat.

“She eat it better than me?” Stack spoke with a hushed tone, full lips tickling her earlobe, “Huh?”

“You so disrespectful, Elias,” Amelia nudged him back with her elbow, “That’s Smoke’s wife! Your Sister–in–Law!”

Stack caught her arm, pinning it behind her back. Amelia winced.

“Ya’ wasn’t worried ‘bout that throwing your cat in her mouth.”

“Fuck. You.” Amelia hissed.

“We did that earlier, remember? Now, answer my question, Princess…”

“Mm–mm…”

Stack hiked her dress up from behind.

“Don’t tell me no mm–mm…”

Ameila didn’t have time to prepare for Stack shoving her forward and positioning her on all fours. He disappeared behind and wiggled his tongue all in her pussy cat with gusto. Amelia arched her back, throwing her sugar walls back on Stack’s eager tongue.

Ameila gathered the bottom of her dress in a shaky fist, giving Stack a better advantage. He slurped from her ever flowing twat with those thick fingers pinching her plump cheeks, reminding him of a glazed donut from a mixture of sweat and her sticky arousal. It was between her thighs too.

“Stack, ooo, fuck…ahhhh…”

Stack pulled his tongue from between her coochie and licked his lips.

“Who eat it better?”

“Both of ya’ll…” Ameila replied weakly.

“I eat ya’ like an ice cream cone and don’t ever get tired. Annie ain’t got shit on me…”

Stack put his whole face in it and moved his mouth in a way that had Ameila seeing stars beyond the deep, southern sky. She felt her body seize up, unable to move as her orgasm reached its plateau.

Amelia squealed, throat raw as she buried her face in the sheets. Stack reappeared, fixing her dress and chuckling when Amelia fell flat against the bed. Stack licked his lips and wiped his chin as best as he could, but it was obvious what he’d just got finished doing.

Amelia peered up at him with a death gaze. Stack blew her a kiss.

“Still think it’s both?”

Ameila sat up on her knees, pussy dripping, “Yes I do. Both of ya’ll are eaters.”

Stack smirked at her with his deep dimples.

“What?” Ameila asked.

“You an undercover freak, princess. All that doe–eyed, cute shit a cover up. Let me find out ya’ been getting down in the Big Easy.”

“Believe it or not, no.”

She flashed him a coquette smile.

“Liar.”

“I ain’t lying!”

Ameila tossed a pillow at Stack.

“No sex tonight. You wore me out,” Amelia climbed off of her bed.

Stack twisted his lips in disbelief. He grabbed Amelia’s luggage for her. She fixed herself in her mirror, turning to give Stack a quick kiss before he left the room.

Outside, Smoke and Annie were loading up Stack’s car.

“When you getting your own automobile?” Stack asked his twin.

“Gimme two weeks. This juke joint shit taking my money.” Smoke replied.

Amelia descended the stairs, inner thighs rubbing together from her cum. Annie caught up with her linking her arm with hers.

“Smoke got us a room together,” Annie whispered, “Remember that lingerie shop I told ya’ about? My friend, Frankie, owns it. She also got some other things there I plan to take a look at…”

Amelia caught Annie’s eye, a suggestive wink and a sly smirk on her face.

“What things?” Ameila asked with a soft spoken voice.

“You’ll see.”

Annie released Amelia to join Smoke in the passenger seat. Stack helped Ameila inside with a hand in his. He jogged around and hopped in. Stack pulled Amelia into him and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. He sat his fedora on his head, tipping it down a little. Amelia put on a pair of sunglasses.

Smoke took off, the rumble of the car growing fainter as they disappeared down the road.

They missed the crows call. It was the day they were set to depart Clarksdale and head to Mound Bayou by train. Smoke sat up in bed, extending a hand to snatch his gold pocket patch from a side table in his old room. He read the time, cognac eyes wide with realization.

They only had an hour to spare.

Smoke kicked the sheets off and almost tripped when his ankle got tangled. He cursed something menacing, searching for his pants, tank top, and pastel blue button down shirt. Annie awoke from the commotion, watching her husband trek back and forth with a deep scowl.

“We overslept?!”

Annie quickly got out of bed, naked, voluptuous body on display. Titties swaying, belly jiggling, and ass shaking as she quickly got dressed herself. She already had an outfit laid out to wear, a coral pink lapel dress with a deep, plunging cross over neckline. It gathers under her bust to create a flattering line into a slimming fit around her waist through the fitted waistband. She paired it with stockings and T–straps with leather soles and a well-balanced, not-too-high heel. She worked to smooth down her frizzy hair that she’d styled in a side–swept bun last night but Smoke fucked her out of her scarf.

Smoke shot his wife a look, “Throw a hat on and let’s get to gettin’, Annie!”

“I still gotta brush my teeth! Got morning breath and your dick been in my mouth all night! No wonder we overslept!” Annie argued.

“Shit,” Smoke grumbled, “Let me go wake ‘em up. Bags in the car?”

“Yes, Elijah.”

Smoke left Annie to finish up. He buttoned his cufflinks, walking with long strides towards where Stack slept. He gripped the doorknob firm, twisting it to test if it were unlocked.

“Wake ya’ll asses up we finna be late!—”

Smoke halted, heels rocking backwards.

Stack popped up out of bed, soft dick swaying as he frantically got dressed. Amelia stretched her limbs like a feline before sitting up gracefully. His eyes studied her body like he was disassembling his Glock. Unwavering and deeply focused. He’d seen her body in the evening glow, but she was presented before him so beautifully and vibrant.

Smoke had to quickly pick his lip up and remember where he was and what they should be doing.

But that body…

No wonder Stack can’t keep his dick to himself. No wonder Annie got acquainted with every inch of her. After taking his press cap off, Stack stood before his mirror, doing a quick job at buttoning his shirt. Amelia slipped out of bed, quickly shielding her nudity as she rushed to grab her outfit she’d had prepared.

Smoke cleared his throat, “Shoulda asked ya’ll to get decent,” He checked his pocket watch again, “We got forty five minutes before that train leave.”

Amelia and Smoke locked eyes. She had a sleepy look in her gaze, that wild hair all over her head. She dropped the sheet from around her body, looking away, unable to hold his intimidating gaze. Smoke dragged his eyes down her body, stopping at the junction between her thighs.

He’d never seen a groom job like that on a beaver, but it was interesting. Pussy lips clean shaved but the top was covered with hair. Neatly trimmed. Stack slipped past Amelia, giving her a quick kiss to the neck. He entered his closet to grab a hat. Amelia put on a pair of bloomers and a bra before slipping on a plum–colored tea dress with a flattering cut. Cute cap sleeves hugged her shoulders and created an elegant silhouette. Her rump swayed mouthwateringly beneath her dress, the fabric brushing over every curve.

She focused on brushing her hair and then she pulled it into an elegant French roll, opening a little hand bag to grab some hair pins.

Smoke pulled himself away as Stack walked towards the door. Annie was situated at the front, ready to go. They went to brush their teeth, and Amelia did the same. They had only thirty minutes left. Outside, they each got into the car, not a word spoken between them. Stack took off with Smoke in the passenger seat and Annie and Amelia in the back.

The train station was a bustling hub of activity, playing a vital role in transportation and community life. Locomotives whistled, people scurried with bags in hand, musicians played tunes for money, tin cans and guitar cases open for you to toss coins and bills in. Train conductors shouted for people to board, booming voices breaking through the other passengers and their conversations.

Smoke had Annie by the hand, and Stack had Amelia. Stack was ready to knock a nigga unconscious for stepping on his good shoes. They stopped the trolly with their luggage before a ‘Colored’s Only’ ticket window. Smoke presented the tickets and what the young man standing before him revealed created a wave of relief.

“Train is ten minutes late.”

Stack clapped his palms together loudly, “Well alright! See?”

Annie squeezed Smoke’s bicep to ease him. Amelia beamed. They made their way over to the ‘Negros Only’ waiting area. Amelia’s eyes drifted left and right, as if she were on edge. Annie touched her forearm gently, bringing Amelia’s attention to her.

“You okay, Lia?”

Smoke and Stack focused on her as well.

“I’m fine,” Ameila half shrugged with a soft grin, “Just not too fond of train stations. Too busy.”

Smoke pulled his eyes away to look at the trains. Stack tapped him on the chest before handing him a metal cigarette box filled with pre–rolls. Smoke accepted it, placing it within the inside pocket of his tweed suit jacket.

“Make sure the house straight. If any nigga go sniffing ‘round the truck…bump ‘em off.” Smoke spoke closely to Stack, “Make sure Sammie helping out too.”

“You ain’t gotta worry ‘bout nothin’ ! Relax, Smoke. Annie, make sure he kick his feet up for a day. Nigga don’t know how to relax.”

Smoke pointed a finger at Stack, “And you play too gahdamn much. Errythang a hoot wit’ ya’ fool ass.”

Annie and Amelia laughed at the banter between the twins.

“AAAAAALLLLLL AAAABOARRRRRDDDDDD!”

Smoke fixed his eyes on a train approaching. It was their ride to Mound Bayou. The terminal started to feel claustrophobic when everyone drew closer to board. Stack helped push the trolly, weaving through the people with skill. Annie and Amelia were hand–in–hand, dashing to the door.

Smoke and Stack gave their tickets to the train conductor and their luggage was loaded. They had to wait for the white folk to board first. As soon as the coast was clear, they got in line.

Stack grabbed a hold of Amelia’s hand. He practically swallowed her mouth with his much fuller lips. He squeezed on her ass, lifting her from the ground. Ameila swatted his arm with her hand bag a little too aggressively. Stack let her down, rubbing the spot where she struck. He shook his head at her before reaching into his pocket, coming up with some cash neatly folded and held together by a clip. He counted out some money and slipped it into her bra.

“For you to get sum’ real nice. Treat yourself, Princess.”

“Stack, I can’t take this—”

“You can and you will,” Stack glanced over her shoulder to make sure they still had some time. He got closer, speaking to her with a hushed tone, “When was the last time you been spoiled, huh? Now, go and buy a sexy little number for me to see ya’ in at the Juke. Make these hating ass birds talk.”

Ameila beamed. She pulled Stack into a tight hug with her arms over his shoulders. She kissed his cheeks before Smoke pulled her off with his arm circling her waist. Stack tipped his hat at her before watching all three of them board the train. Amelia sprinted to a window to wave goodbye with her gloved hand to Stack, blowing him a kiss.

“Show me a lil’ sum’ !” Stack mouthed.

Amelia looked both ways before hiking her dress up, revealing a garter. A pretty lace one.

“OWWWW!” Stack shouted, cupping his mouth with his hands.

Smoke gave his little brother a salute before they all made their way towards an empty compartment. Smoke led the way, scoping out the train closely and with skepticism. Always on high alert.

“Here,” He shoved open a door to a privacy compartment, “Let’s go.”

Annie and Amelia made their way inside.

Smoke pulled the shades and loaded their luggage on the racks above the seats. Annie took a seat across from Amelia, cooling herself off with one of her fans. Amelia cracked a window to get some fresh air in. Smoke removed his suit jacket and sat it next to Amelia before settling beside his wife. He sat with his legs spread and an arm draped behind Annie.

“Not a long ride, ‘bout thirty minutes with one stop.” Smoke said.

Amelia popped open a book. A fairytale about a Prince Charming finding his wife. She smirked as her eyes scanned the pages, feeling herself consumed by the imaginary kingdom before her.

Smoke snuck a flask from his breast pocket. He unscrewed the cap, taking a swig. He flexed his jaw and grit his teeth from the strong hooch. Annie motioned for it, wanting to try some.

“Slow down now,” Smoke reached for the flask, “careful wit’ that there…”

“I got it, Daddy.”

Amelia peeked up at Annie through her lashes with a smile.

“Don’t go saying that we in public.” Smoke warned.

“Like we ain’t never get busy on a train before.”

Amelia’s interest was peeked. She eyed both of them, her book not so fascinating anymore.

“Annie,” Smoke looked over at Amelia, “We got company.”

“Don’t we always?” Annie cooed, “ou konnen ou renmen li, wi?”

Ameila and Annie giggled.

“Whatchu saying, woman?” Smoke squinted between the both of them.

“I’ll be back, I need to use the restroom,” Amelia placed her book down and exited the compartment, sliding the door shut slowly with a sly grin.

“You should’ve gotten a single bed instead, Elijah.”

Smoke cut his eyes at Annie before taking another swig of his liquor. Annie played with his ear, knowing damn well that’s Smoke’s spot.

“Whatever games you planning…”

Smoke was cut short when Annie’s hand grabbed him by the dick. Smoke tipped his head back and growled.

“You been fighting the urge to give into her…we gon’ have us a good time, Daddy…”

“Fuck, woman….”

Smoke felt Annie free his heavy dick and equally heavy balls. His pipe sat in her warm palm, fingers stretched around him with a firm grip. One hand wasn’t enough, Annie two–hand stroked him. Smoke dropped his head, staring down at Annie work his dick into a stiffness that had his thighs jerking.

“What you do to her, Smoke? You touch her?” Annie whispered.

His dick jumped in her hands.

“Mhm…yes…” Annie chuckled softly, “No wonder you been acting like that…”

His fingers felt good sinking into Amelia’s pussy from the back. Ever since that rainy day, Amelia had been eager to get another chance. Whenever her and Smoke crossed paths, she’d be right there, asking if he needed anything, like a good little helper.

“Need your pipe cleaned out again, Smoke?”

“Are you hungry? Annie’s busy at the shop, I can whip you up something.”

“Smoke, can you help me? My wardrobe’s stuck.”

Bending over in front of him.

Walking in from a bath with her towel on knowing he was around.

Lighting his cigarettes.

His thick fingers glided in and out of her tight puss so good he almost fucked her right there.

But he refused to touch her again without Annie being present. Because he wanted them both. At the same fucking time. And Annie wanted it too.

Smoke’s eyes snapped down at his wife sucking his dick. She used that trick tongue to lick and those succulent lips to slurp him up good. Smoke sank his fingers around her thick bun and guided her head, his hips thrusting up to meet her mouth.

“Mmmm…I love your fuckin’ mouth…feels so fuckin’ good.”

Smoke was an absolute wreck with Annie. Big, strong, mean man a submissive to his wife’s mouth and pussy. She get to talking that Creole and throwing it back Smoke gonna bust. She suck it and look in his eyes Smoke gonna drop a load in her until he can’t.

The door slid open.

Smoke tried to pull Annie off but it was too late.

Ameila slipped in and her eyes grew wide when she spotted what Annie was doing. Smoke had a tight clench of his jaw with his lips sealed but Annie throated him and tickled his sack with her tongue. Smoke released a loud moan. Amelia took a seat across from them, her eyes shining with lust and yearning.

Smoke’s brows drew tighter, his full lips moist from biting and licking them. His eyes met Amelia’s and he watched her bring her legs up. She slid her dress past her knees and opened her thighs. Her pliant thighs shot up as she removed her bloomers. She tossed them aside and didn’t hold back giving Smoke a full frontal of her pussy.

Annie looked over at Amelia while still bobbing her head and sucking her husband off.

Annie popped her lips off Smoke’s dick, “You see that pussy, Smoke? That’s the pussy you want so bad…”

Ameila used both hands to spread herself wide.

Smoke licked his lips.

“That’s the pussy I stuck my tongue in that night…” Annie taunted with a whisper so sensual Smoke’s toes curled in his oxfords, “Show him that clit, Lia…”

Amelia pulled the hood back on her clit and Smoke grunted. Her eyes fell to his dick, tracking a dribble of pre cum.

“Smoke…your dick…it’s so big…”

Smoke’s eyes rolled shut.

Thump.

He opened his eyes and right on her knees was Amelia.

Smoke watched her tuck a strand of her hair that escaped her French roll behind her ear. Lips painted a rosey red, she bat her lashes at him while stroking his thigh with her dainty hands covered in lacy gloves. The texture of the gloves made the hairs on his legs stand on end and his dick pulsate in Annie’s jaws.

Annie popped her lips off, “Here, Lia. I know you’ve been waitin’ to have some.”

Ameila gasped faintly, “Thank you, Annie…Thank you, Smoke…”

Smoke felt Annie stroke his other thigh, giving him a reassuring smile. She dragged her other hand down his torso until it rested beneath his shirt. Smoke’s chest rose and fell, anticipating the moment Amelia’s lips were wrapped around his dick.

When she opened wide and captured his dick between her lips, Smoke brought a fist to his mouth, biting down on it hard. He didn’t want to get kicked off of the train, but fuck.

Annie cupped his balls, “She feels good, Big Daddy?”

Smoke’s calloused hands stroked Amelia’s soft hair. He fell in love with the way her strands felt. Amelia looked up into his eyes while sucking.

“So eager, couldn’t wait,” Smoke shoved her head down lower, “Get more in there…you want it so bad…suck this dick…”

Annie kissed and licked his balls while Amelia sucked to her heart’s delight.

“Fucking slut.” Smoke said through clenched teeth.

Annie joined Amelia. They took turns popping their lips off Smoke’s tip, feeding each other some dick, slapping it on their tongues. Smoke had both of them by the hair.

“Both ya’ll use your tongues and lick this stick.”

“Like this?” Annie poked her tongue out as far as it could go, showing Smoke just how good her tongue can lick.

“This how you like it, Smoke?”

Ameila twirled her tongue around his leaky tip before slithering down his shaft, painting the trail of veins with her saliva.

Annie and Amelia licked Smoke up and down like he was a popsicle on a hot Mississippi summer day. He couldn’t believe how hard he was. His shit was standing straight up, balls tight, tip ready to implode like a grenade and shower both of them in cum.

Moans and whimpers echoed around the compartment. Smoke felt hot tears prick his eyes. He felt his release creep up on him so fast he didn’t have time to prepare. His hips shot up off of the seat and his cum sprung from his slit in heavy droplets. He was sweaty and spent, watching with a weak expression as both women cleaned him up.

“Ahhh….uhnnnnnnn…”

He balled his fists and another release came.

Annie had one thigh and Amelia had the other.

“You thought you had control over her, huh? Huh, Big Smoke?” Annie taunted.

Amelia giggled between flicks of her greedy tongue.

“I’m a wear both of ya’ll asses out when we get to that hotel.” Smoke threatened.

“We know.” Annie quipped.

Mound Bayou, Mississippi, served as a haven for African Americans during the 1920s to 30s due to its status as an all-black town founded in 1887 by Isaiah T. Montgomery. It offered a space for self-help, race pride, economic opportunity, and social justice in a self-segregated community, providing a refuge from Jim Crow’s oppressive racial discrimination and segregation. Mound Bayou also boasted numerous black-owned businesses, schools, a library, and other infrastructure, making it a thriving community.

They left the train which wasn’t far from where they planned to stay. The Riverside Hotel provided lodging in the Delta for traveling musicians and like-minded folk. Blues music softly played as they entered the front lobby to check in. Smoke positioned himself at the desk, cigarette sitting between his lips. He adjusted his dick, still hard from the sucking Amelia and Annie gave him.

He had a tremor in his hands. Always had since being in the German trenches with Stack. But this time, his hands shook with anticipation. Excitement. He was about to have one hell of a stay at The Riverside Hotel. Two women sitting pretty fanning themselves off with their legs crossed were to show for it. Clearly, they had a few tricks up their sleeves. Smoke caught them whispering in the backseat on the way to the train station earlier.

“Checking in, handsome?”

A kind, elderly woman recognized him and she threw her arms out for a big hug.

“Oh! Elijah! Elijah!”

“Miss Mabel,” Smoke pulled the frail woman with silver hair into his embrace, “You lookin’ good there! Missed ya’!”

Smoke smiled faintly.

“Missed you! Welcome back to the Delta! How Stack doin’ ? Still acting like a gahdamn fool?!”

“You know it. Nigga ain’t got a serious bone in his body.”

“Is that my Annie?!”

Annie’s pearly whites were on display as she gleamed. She approached Miss Mabel, avoiding kissing her temple after what she got finished doing on the train. Amelia made her way over, giving Miss Mabel a shy wave.

“This Amelia, Annie and I guest for our stay. She from New Orleans.”

“Oooh! How are you, beautiful?”

“I’m doing great, Miss Mabel. Thanks for having me.”

“Any folk of their’s is welcome. Now,” Miss Mabel slipped on her glasses so she could look at her heavy check–in book, “Let’s see…Ah!…oh…”

Smoke arched a brow, “…Errythang alright there?”

Ameila and Annie share a look.

“It’s no fuss…Robby made a mistake…he put ya’ down for a single bed room. A king sized single bed.”

All three of them locked eyes.

“If you wait around I can see what we got left. This weekend is pretty busy with the races goin’ on.”

Miss Mabel appeared stressed. She couldn’t wait to chew Robby, her grandson, out for mixing their rooms up.

“Miss Mabel, it’s alright. We’ll take the room.”

Miss Mabel peered up at him with a sorry expression, “You sure, Smoke? Ya’ know I can get ya’ another room, baby. Just–just hold ya’ horses.”

“Honest, Mama Mabel,” Smoke pressed a hand to his chest sincerely, “We be aight. As long as we got a place to stay under your roof that’s all that matters.”

Annie nodded in agreement, “Smoke’s right. We got all we need, Miss Mabel. Don’t go worrying yourself.”

“Oh,” Miss Mabel relaxed, “Ya’ll always been some good peoples. Here’s ya’ keys,” she dropped one in Smoke’s hand and one in Annie’s, “Enjoy ya’ stay!”

“Thank you,” Smoke pulled out some cash, “This should cover the room and it’s enough in there for you.”

Miss Mabel accepted the crisp bills and pat Smoke on the hand affectionately. He gripped her hand gently, giving it a little squeeze before making his way to the steps leading up to their room. Smoke sat their luggage at the bottom, clearing the way for Amelia and Annie to go up.

“Wait, Elijah—ROBBY! GET YOUR ASS OUT HERE!”

“What I do?!”

Robby Perkins, standing at six feet, seven inches, as big as Cornbread but brawny with shiny waves slicked back. Skin the color of burnt umber, his clothes from the denim coveralls he wore to the white shirt clung to his body. He stomped out from the back with a groan.

“Big Robby.”

Robby brought a fist to his mouth with his eyes bugged out in surprise.

“OH SHIT! SMOKE!”

They dabbed each other up, Robby thrilled to see his old friend he used to run around with.

Annie and Amelia said their hello’s, Robby happy to see Annie.

“Boy, help them with their things to the room!”

“Hush up, mama,” Robby grabbed two, “Let’s head on up. Smoke! How was Chicago, man? I know it was a sight to see!”

“Amazing how the brain come up with shit. Skyscrapers and busy streets. People stacked on top of each other…make you appreciate the south more.”

“More than the big city?” Robby asked with a disbelieving laugh.

They made it to the second floor.

“Ain’t nothin’ like the soil and marsh, Robby.”

Smoke flicked out a few tens for Robby.

“‘Ppreciate ya’ Smoke! Annie, Amelia…”

“Bye bye, Robby. Don’t stress Miss Mabel out now.” Annie said.

“She stress me out!”

Smoke opened the door.

It was indeed a room with a king sized bed. They walked into the rectangular room with double doors that led out to a balcony that had a tiny, wooden stool on it. There was a rounded archway that lead to a bathroom with a clawfoot tub, a sink, and a toilet. A gramophone sat in the corner on top of a little table that held old records. It smelled clean, elbow grease and all.

Annie and Amelia tested the bed. It was comfortable.

“Should be big enough for the three of us,” Annie smoothed her hands over the duvet, “Plenty of pillows.”

“It’s cozy. I like it.” Amelia said.

Smoke took a seat at the end. He bounced a little, testing the springs.

“Sturdy…”

He turned to look at both women. They were resting against the pillows, content smiles on their faces.

“I gotta make a couple stops. Here,” Smoke gave Annie some money, “I know you don’t like it, but I want ya’ to splurge. Go get cuter.”

Annie accepted the money with a roll of her eyes and a slight smile.

“Both of ya’ll. I’ll see you a lil’ later.”

“Be safe, Smoke.” Annie said.

Smoke stood, facing his woman before opening his suit jacket, revealing his pistols.

“Always.”

Smoke dipped his head and Annie slipped him some tongue. Ameila watched, twirling a strand of her hair. Smoke broke the kiss, and then he looked at Amelia. She shuddered. He didn’t take his eyes off of her as he made his way over to her. Annie sat up and watched with a bite of her lip Smoke give Amelia tongue.

Her lips were soft, almost silken, and pillowy against his own. Smoke could feel the soft tickle of her breath beneath his nose, fingers tangling in her hair as they breathed each other in. Their tongues would appear, swiping over the other, before disappearing. Smoke slipped his tongue from her mouth and Amelia thumbed away spit from his bottom lip.

“Guess you better hurry up so we can get back to this room,” Annie told Smoke with a penetrating gaze.

“I will, baby. Here…”

Smoke sat one of his pistols against the bed.

“You can handle that. Don’t be afraid to use it.”

Smoke made sure he was decent before leaving the room.

Meanwhile, Annie and Amelia decided to take a short nap before going out shopping. They slept for a few hours, waking up to a knock on the door. Annie went to see who it was, and it was someone bringing ice and two bottles of wine.

“Thank you,” Annie accepted the tray and shut the door.

She sat the tray down, and Amelia excused herself to the bathroom. Annie changed her shoes to a more comfy pair. Amelia braided her hair and pinned it up in a halo. They double checked everything before leaving the room to hit the streets of Mound Bayou.

Hand–in–hand, they pointed out a beauty salon, a nail shop, and a restaurant with a speakeasy attached they planned to dine at for the evening. They could smell the good ol’ southern cooking as they walked by. They stopped at the nail shop first, Amelia picking a bright red while Annie chose a neutral shade; soft pink.

Out on the busy street again, Annie mentioned a spot that she planned to visit to see a friend and pick up an order. They made their way to a beautifully displayed boutique with a fancy, cursive sign that read: FRANCESCA’S

Annie held the door open for Amelia.

A sophisticated blend of rich, natural ingredients like amber, patchouli, and sandalwood, with a hint of leather. Warm, resinous, and slightly sweet, evoking a sense of indulgence and exclusivity. They were surrounded by glitz and glamour with an underlying sensuality the deeper you delved. Many garments and accessories and dresses. Lingerie you’d wear for your man or woman. It was a woman’s dream.

Romantic French jazz played, taking them on a voyage across the sea, to cobblestone streets and a view of the Eiffel Tower.

C'est moi qui suis sa petite

Son Anana, son Anana, son Anammite

Je suis vive, je suis charmante

Comme un p'tit oiseau qui chante

Il m'appelle sa p'tite bourgeoise…

Josephine Baker–La Petite Tonkinoise.

Wheels from a sliding ladder paused abruptly in front of them. A graceful woman wearing a billowing, royal blue silk dress and finger–waves in her hair appeared before them. She had the eyes of a woman who was down for a good time. A smile so bright and captivating it made you bend at her will.

“Annie! ma chérie!”

Skin like antique brass, she looked radiant. Slender, tall, and goddess–like. A woman in her early forties.

“Frankie!”

They leaned in and hugged followed by a la bise. Two kisses each.

“Comment vas-tu ? Waouh ! Magnifique!”

“All’s great, Frankie. This is Amelia.”

“Bonjour, Amélia! So happy you made it Annie. I have a dress for you! And we can find a sexy little number for your friend. Follow me, mesdames!”

Amelia and Annie walked between racks of clothing, the different textures and colors exciting them. They made it to a circular room with mirrored walls and mannequins.

Francesca launched liberating slit skirts and low necklines, popularized less restrictive corsets, and promoted alluring, pared-down lingerie in the Delta. She drew inspiration from France, London, Spain, Chicago, and New York. She was born in the French colony Guadeloupe to a wealthy, white plantation owner and a Creole mother. She lived in France until the age of eighteen and then reunited with her mother in Baton Rouge where she taught herself how to sew. She took that opportunity to learn all things fashion.

She’d been friends with Annie for years, someone she could truly confide in. She’d been there for her when Smoke left those seven years ago.

“Here, Here! I saw this beautiful, sea green silk fabric during my stay in France and immediately thought of you, Annie!”

Annie covered her mouth but her eyes said it all.

Amelia was equally as stunned.

Dazzling, demure and divine.

“This is a part of my siren collection. Isn’t she lovely, darling? It embodies the essence of sophistication and allure, ensuring you not only turn heads but also command every room you enter. You have the body, the courbes,” Frankie kisses her fingers, “tu seras une vision! Come, come! Try it on!”

Frankie ushered Annie into a changing room. She turned her attention towards Amelia.

“Let’s see what we can do for you!”

Frankie disappeared, but Amelia could hear her rummaging. Amelia noticed a back room and wondered what was behind that door.

“I’ll show you and Annie that room after this. What do you think?”

“It’s…it’s beautiful…”

The color of champagne. Seductive silk.

“Step into the limelight and embrace your most radiant self with this show-stopping piece! Cuts in the sleeves…diamente clasp…look at the slit!”

It was sexy indeed. Amelia accepted the gown, Frankie leading her to a dressing room. Amelia undressed and quickly pulled on the gown Frankie gave her. Amelia stepped out, and she gasped at her reflection.

Annie appeared and Amelia almost fainted.

“Annie…”

She wore the HELL out of that gown. The sexiest thing Amelia had ever seen her wear. Annie swayed her hips as she posed, stroking her curves and smiling from ear–to–ear.

Annie noticed Amelia and her mouth dropped open.

“Lia, my goodness…”

Amelia twirled, “You like?”

“I LOVE.” Annie said.

“Both of you look breathtaking!” Frankie said.

They didn’t want to take the dresses off, but they needed to preserve it for the opening of the Juke. They got dressed and Frankie boxed their things. She showed them some lingerie pieces, some of which Amelia couldn’t resist buying. She’d never seen anything like it. So bold and daring. She bought as many sheer pieces as she could.

After they did a bit of shopping, they sat down in the circular room, sipping from glasses of champagne. Frankie had one more thing to show them. Something she’d been experimenting with to sell.

“So, I’ve been trying to expand my brand, cater to women’s needs…I’ve done some digging and this is what I found…”

Frankie scurried over to the door to the hidden room excitedly. She motioned for Ameila and Annie to follow her. Frankie unlocked the door and when she opened it, there were shelves full of boxes they couldn’t quite make out. Frankie stepped inside first, the dim lighting casting shadows over her face. Annie studied the boxes, understanding slowly creeping up her face.

“Vibrators?” Ameila questioned with perplexity, “These are…are these for…”

“Sex toys. Hidden in plain sight! Marketed to look like something else! Isn’t that wild? These were invented in 1928. I got my hands on one in New York and fell in love! Figured I’d start selling them. We gotta have a little fun for ourselves while our men away, right?”

Frankie opened a box, pulling one of them out for a closer look, “Since women ain’t owning up to using vibrators on their vaginas or breasts, it's impossible to know how many purchased this as a beauty aid versus its...other uses. I plan to host toy parties! First of its kind! Here, in my shop!”

Frankie handed the vibrator off to Annie first. It uses electricity, which was fascinating enough. Hurray for no more hand cramps — and boasts a textured knob to provide different pleasurable sensations. It was attractive packaging with a pretty green handle. Annie past it on to Amelia, watching her stroke it with mystified eyes.

“One for the each of you. On the house, mes chéries!”

“We can pay for these, Frankie,” Annie said with a meek smile.

What would Smoke think? Would he be willing to use it on Annie?

“Annie, no! These are gifts!”

“Thank you, Frankie, I’m gonna have a lot of fun with this,” Amelia’s eyes glowed with excitement.

“Je vous en prie! Of course! Any time! Now, before you leave, Annie, I have another gift. I was away in Paris and got my hands on this Josephine Baker record! A French record! Come, come!”

They returned to the front of the store, Amelia noticed lace masks. She picked up one, a pretty lavender color, securing it over her eyes. Amelia found a mirror to see how it looked.

“I’ve been dying to get my hands on this! Thanks, Frankie….”

“I see you’ve found the masks!”

Amelia removed it, placing it back where she’d found it.

“They’re sexy, yes? Take one. You too, Annie. Give Smoke a welcome home treat.” Frankie said with a wink.

Once they were loaded, they left the store, Annie still leaving Frankie some money despite her protests. They headed back to the hotel to freshen up and relax.

Annie sat in an armchair across from the bed, removing her stockings and shoes. Amelia sat in the center of the bed, the vibrator plugged in. She turned it on, gliding the little knobs across her arm. Annie opened a bottle of wine and helped herself to some. Amelia sat up on her knees, lifted the side of her dress, and ran the vibrator along her thigh. She gasped when the sensation increased.

“This is fun…I can just imagine how it feels down there…”

Annie joined Amelia.

“Try it on me,” Annie extended her arm.

Amelia moved in closer, testing it out on Annie. Annie’s breath halted and her body shivered.

“Feels good, right?” Ameila whispered.

“Yes…you wanna?”

Amelia’s eyes trailed from Annie’s lips to the device in her hand.

“Yes…yes!”

They rushed to remove their clothes, the breeze past the open balcony doors perking their nipples. Amelia reached for the vibrator again and explored further, stroking her pert nipples with it in a circular motion. Annie helped herself to Amelia’s other nipple, flicking her tongue and wrapping her lips around it to suck.

“Let me see it,” Annie grabbed the vibrator from Amelia’s hand, “Lay back a little, Lia.”

Amelia propped herself up on her elbows and spread her legs. Annie trailed the vibrations down her stomach until she was stroking her patch of pubic hair with it.

“You open up so beautifully, Lia…I can’t wait for Smoke to finally taste you…you’re so sweet and wet…”

Amelia tugged on her nipples, breaths uneven with anticipation. She tilted her pelvis upward, trying to capture that sensation on her bundle of nerves.

“You have to be patient, Lia…”

“It feels too good I can’t,” Amelia cried.

“Patience…”

“Oh, Annie…please…”

Annie smiled, “I love it when you beg.”

Amelia pleaded and begged, hips circling to get that feeling where she wanted it. Annie outlined the shape of her fat pussy, avoiding her clit. She had the knobs of the vibrator sticky from her arousal. A slippery glide.

“Annie…my button…please!”

“You’re being such a good girl, Lia…”

Annie finally gave her what she deserved.

The minute that vibrator came in contact with her clit, Amelia was climaxing. Annie teased her so much. Teased her to the point of release the second the vibration touched her clit. Amelia threw her head back and moaned so loud it could be heard for blocks.

Annie played with her clit, focusing that vibrator right there, causing Amelia to cum again. When Annie finally gave her a chance to relax, Amelia rolled over and curled into a ball.

“You okay, Lia?” Annie asked, stroking her back.

Amelia turned onto her back, wiping tears from her eyes.

“That was amazing,” She looked up at Annie, “You have to try it.”

Annie settled onto her back. Amelia climbed onto in reverse, her pussy in Annie’s mouth while she spread her legs. Annie split Amelia’s folds open, her clit just hanging there for the taking. Annie took turns sucking and licking and probing her hole with her tongue.

Amelia used one hand to spread open Annie’s hairy pussy lips and right there was her clit.

“Put it on my button, Lia. Crank it up.” Annie begged with wet lips from Amelia’s folds.

Amelia put the vibrator on the highest setting. She did what she was told, placing it over the hood of Annie’s clit. Annie immediately writhed, causing Amelia to bounce with glee.

“SHIT!” Annie shouted.

“Got ya’ creaming already, Annie!”

Annie munched on Amelia’s pussy and kept her legs back, welcoming the intensity of the vibrations. Amelia tracked a single trail of creamy white seeping from Annie’s entrance.

Annie hummed against Amelia’s pussy, clit caught between her lips. She was immediately addicted to the way that vibrator felt. And just before she could reach climax, the door to their hotel room opened.

“The fuck?”

Smoke’s hard eyes dropped to the contraption in Amelia’s hand. He cocked his head to the side before shutting the door and locking it up. He dropped his bags off at the door and as he approached them, he removed his suit jacket, unbuttoned his cufflinks, and did the same for his shirt.

He tossed everything to the floor.

“The fuck is this?”

“SMOKE!”

Annie couldn’t hold it in. Amelia giggled, enjoying the way Annie’s breasts collided with her ass from their position. Amelia shut the vibrator off and placed it on the bed so she could climb off of Annie.

Smoke picked up the vibrator by its handle.

“It’s a vibrator. We got it from Frankie.” Annie revealed.

Smoke turned it on, studying it. Amelia and Annie shared a look before their eyes glued onto Smoke’s erection creating a bulge.

Silence.

You could never tell with Smoke, but the wheels in his head were turning.

He finally looked down at them.

“Use it again.”

He handed it to Annie and they watched him settle in a chair across from them. Smoke wasted no time undoing his pants and bringing big boy out again. He stroked himself while lighting a cigarette.

“Go on,” Smoke sat his cigarette between his lips so he could roll his nut sack, “Get to it.”

Annie turned to face Smoke with her head down and her wide backside up. Amelia helped her get the vibrator into position.

“The highest again, Lia…”

The loud rumble of the vibrator filled the room. Smoke watched beyond the fog the cigarette created, eyes zeroed in on his wife with those big cheeks spread and that pink pussy with that hair he loved all open.

“Shiiiit…”

Smoke pumped his dick into his hand with his hips. He stroked it with a backhand and a front hand, making sure to give every inch of that big dick some pleasure. Last time he played with his stick was in Chicago.

Annie’s moans were deep and guttural. That vibrator must feel real good if she making all that noise.

“I’m cumming…”

Smoke poked his bottom lip out, eyes wide and fixated on the way Annie’s pussy fit over the knobs of the vibrator. He peeked between Amelia’s legs and could see the mess she’d made before he walked in.

“Switch.” He barked out.

Smoke watched Amelia get onto her back. Annie grabbed her by the neck and pulled her in for a kiss while her other hand worked the vibrator over her button. Smoke grunted when Amelia started leaking to the bed, like a running faucet.

“You leaking all over the place…that pussy wet as motherfucka…”

Smoke could feel his pre cum coat his fingers.

They were too caught up in the taste of each other’s mouths. Smoke dragged his eyes over Annie and how her breasts hung over her belly. He took in the sight of Amelia with her legs spread wide for him to see just how gushy she is.

He needed to taste her.

Annie seemed to sense his needs.

“Come, Elijah…”

Smoke put his cigarette out. He stood slowly, making his way over to them. Annie still had a hand around Amelia’s throat.

“Get down there and taste.” Annie commanded, “Regarde comme elle a bon goût…”

Smoke was hit in the face with the smell he remembered when snooping in her room. He felt his balls tighten up like he was about to cum all over himself. Smoke groaned, running his calloused hands all over the back of Amelia’s thighs.

Amelia looked down at him with those doe eyes and a slow blink. That pouty bottom lip was between her teeth. Smoke licked a long, deliberately slow trail up her slit. Annie placed a hand on the back of his head, encouraging him to enjoy. To savor.

“That’s it…that’s it, Elijah…you see it now, don’t ya’?”

“Oui…” Ameila moaned.

Smoke’s tongue curled around Amelia’s clit in a circular motion, at a snails pace, learning the taste and feel of her.

“Wrap your lips around it, Elijah…do it slow…”

Smoke followed the command of his wife and his full lips were secure around Amelia’s clit. He sucked softly, drawing back gently, savoring and taking his time. Amelia made a mess in his beard.

“Gahdamn,” Smoke spoke with a hushed tone as he took a second to admire her pussy, “taste so fuckin’ good…”

“Smoke…yes…I’ve been waiting…I needed you…”

They locked eyes. Annie spoke Creole in Amelia’s ear. Smoke went lower, slurping up her mess. His hands on her thighs tightened. Amelia moaned angelically, watching Smoke delve deeper, becoming hungrier, more ferocious with it.

“Mhm…mmm,” He moaned with his eyes closed and his mouth unable to control the way his tongue and lips worked, “hmmm….”

“She’s gonna cum, Elijah. Keep going.” Annie urged with a faint whisper.

Loud slurping came from between her legs. He did this thing with his mouth where he sucked and licked at the same time and Amelia trapped his head with her thighs.

“Don’t stop, Elijah…”

“SMOKE!”

Amelia fell apart. She pressed her hand against his forehead and Smoke smacked it away. He opened her up far and didn’t stop until he was ready. Annie played with her titties, watching with her seductive eyes.

“Oh, shit, Smoke, pleaseeeee.”

Amelia erupted. She covered her face with her arm, practically weeping.

Smoke didn’t stop.

“Give her a break, Elijah,” Annie grabbed him by his dick, tugging him, “Elijah…”

That’s when Annie realized he was punishing her. Smoke’s intimidating biceps locked Amelia in place. She looked from Annie to Smoke, tears rolling down her cheeks. Smoke sucked on her button and didn’t let off. Amelia groaned, her entire body shaking.

She was squirting in his mouth. Annie’s jaw dropped open.

Smoke released her clit and peppered soft kisses there before popping up from between her legs. Amelia was speechless. Smoke climbed over her and kissed her lips, delving his tongue deep in her mouth.

“Taste some, baby…”

Smoke shared his tongue and Amelia’s juices with his wife.

“She’s tasty.” Annie said.

“She is…can’t wait to have more.”

Amelia sat up and watched Annie and Smoke share a sloppy kiss. Annie reached for Amelia’s hand, bringing her into the session as well. All three of their tongues collided in a lustrous tango.

The bright voiced piano with its higher sound, creating that lively, clear, and pleasant sound occupied one part of the stage, shrill to some ears. The Piano that’s bass-heavy with its dark voice and booming, rich sound was on the other side.

The horns blaring and drums thumping created a ring–a–ding sound that had people grooving. Round tables and a lengthy bar made up the speakeasy. Thugs and gangsters moved back and forth, all of them recognizing Smoke. Annie and Amelia enjoyed glasses of wine while Smoke sipped on a smoked old fashioned. They had a hearty meal and delicious pie beforehand. Amelia shook her hips in her seat while Annie snapped her fingers.

“Meant to ask what you go do earlier?!” Annie asked Smoke.

“Met up with a man about selling some liquor. He wanna buy a couple crates off me. Then I had to pick up Stack’s golds. Made a pit stop to my gun man. He hooked me up with a new pistol!”

Amelia drank the rest of her wine down.

The band kicked up and Amelia stood, popping her backside. Smoke eyed her up and down with a quirk of his brow and a smirk. Annie cheered her on.

“Let me go relieve myself,” Annie leaned over to whisper something in Smoke’s ear before she got up, “Be back!”

When she left, Amelia reached for more wine but Smoke filled her glass himself.

“Thank you, Smoke.”

She gave him a bashful smile. She didn’t understand why she felt so timid with him after he was eating her pussy out multiple times earlier. She even had his dick seated in the back of her throat.

Maybe Annie’s presence gave her more confidence. Amelia could deal with Stack’s playful archetype, but Smoke is the strong, silent type. It left her unable to hold his gaze for longer than five seconds.

“Come here…”

Smoke pat the seat beside him where Annie had occupied. Ameila scooted over. She could smell his cologne. He smelled like vanilla and bourbon.

Smoke’s eyes connected with hers.

“Annie and myself want you to relax. Now, I’m speaking to ya’ because I know how I make ya’ feel. We past all that, understand? We done tasted each other more than once. It’s best you breathe…”

Amelia exhaled. Her shoulders were bunched up and she didn’t even realize it.

“Better?” Smoke asked.

“Yes.” Amelia replied with a slow nod and a smile.

“I ain’t gotta tell ya’ again do I?”

“No, Sir.”

Smoke sat his hand on Amelia’s thigh. She was wearing a shorter dress, an all black one that cinched at the waist and flared at the hips. She wore her hair in an updo with the top swirled and the back tucked under. She took a chance and wore thigh high, black stockings with a lace trim.

His finger tips stroked her inner thigh, tickling her. He inched higher, Amelia planting her hands against the table. Her back stiffened when Smoke thumbed her clit. No underwear.

Annie returned and sat in Amelia’s seat. A waiter came over, a young girl with high energy. Annie ordered another bottle of wine and another old fashioned for her husband. Annie waited until the waiter was gone before peaking beneath the table. She reached under and secured Amelia’s knee, keeping her leg open.

“Thank ya’, wifey.” Smoke said

“Welcome, husband.” Annie replied with a smile.

Smoke sank two fingers deep. He grunted, sharing a look with Annie.

“You always this messy, Amelia?” Smoke asked.

He finger–fucked her and watched the crowd. Annie accepted the wine, helping herself to some more.

“When we get back to the hotel, Lia, Me and Smoke gonna have our way with ya’…”

Amelia’s hips angled so that Smoke could have a deeper descent. She brought a handkerchief to her mouth, stifling her moans. Despite the band’s loud performance, she could hear her pussy talking.

“I know Stack opened this pussy up, but when I get up in it, you gon’ see why they call me Smoke…”

Amelia’s walls gripped Smoke’s thick fingers.

“It’s okay, Lia,” Annie soothed, “Took me a while to get used to how big he is when we first met. Once you get past the ache, it’ll feel like heaven…told ya’ that’s what comes wit’ fucking a Moore man…”

“I can feel myself—”

“Go head and rain, baby girl…”

Amelia squirted in her seat. Her head landed on Annie’s shoulder. Annie rocked her back and forth while Smoke thumbed her clit. He eased his fingers out of her gently before fixing her dress back.

It was time to go.

Smoke waved the waiter down. He paid the bill and all three of them left the table. Smoke holding Ameila and Annie by the waist as they made it out on the street. Onlookers watched with envy, wishing they had two pretty gals on their arm. They entered The Riverside Hotel, Robby perched at the front desk. He stood from his seat when he noticed them.

Bring up some warm towels and rags, plenty of ‘em. You gon’ be here if I need a change of sheets?”

Robby couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

“Y–yeah, Smoke. When ya’ want the towels and rags?”

“You got a cart to leave ‘em on? Just knock.”

They climbed the stairs to the second floor. Smoke opened the door to their room. Annie entered first, grabbing the Josephine Baker record to play. Smoke started to undress.

On dit qu'au-delà des mers

Là-bas sous le ciel clair

Il existe une cité

Au séjour enchanté

Et sous les grands arbres noirs

Chaque soir

Vers elle s'en va tout mon espoir…

Annie gyrated her hips and felt herself up. Cupping her titties, feeling on her rump. Ameila kicked off her black, velvet T-straps and unbuttoned her dress, revealing only a bra and her knee high stockings. Bra off, she helped Annie undress while they danced to the music. Smoke was fully naked.

Dick poked out.

Balls heavy.

Arms flexed.

He was ready.

Annie spun Amelia around and then she let go of her hand, Amelia twirling. They giggled and smiled, tipsy from the wine. Smoke had a little buzz himself from the two old fashioned glasses he had. Amelia went over to a decorative box and opened it, revealing lace masks. She handed Annie one, and helped her secure it. Amelia tied her own on.

Whatever this was, Smoke liked it.

But he was ready to get down to business.

He picked Amelia up, one arm around her waist, her hands on his shoulders. He placed her on her back and Annie joined his side.

“Damn, look at ya’…”

Smoke juggled her tits in his hand. He used her breasts like earmuffs and rubbed his face in between. One of his hands reached between her legs, pushing two fingers up in her. Annie bucked her hips, bringing one foot up to the bed. Smoke was digging in Annie’s walls deep.

Her eyes glistened past the lace of her mask, staring into her husband’s eyes weakly. His dick bounced each time Annie nibbled on his ear. Ameila brought her knees up and stroked herself. One finger sinking in.

Smoke and Annie heard the sounds her pussy made. They pulled apart, climbing up onto the bed. Both of them went on their stomachs and with each of Amelia’s legs out of the way, Smoke and Annie started licking her pussy at the same time.

“Eat this pussy up…mmmm…”

Both of their tongues fought for dominance, gliding against each other, attacking her clit from each side. Smoke gave Annie a chance to enjoy Amelia’s clit while he tongue fucked her.

“Uh-huh, uh-huh, mhm,” was Smoke’s response to Amelia’s pleas of “don’t stop, right there, feels so good, eat me up.”

Annie was on that clit, sucking softly, delivering delicate kisses with her puckered lips. Amelia sat up on her elbows, hair in her face, chewing on her bottom lip. She didn’t know who to focus on, both of them working hard to make her cum.

“She’s close…” Annie says between licks.

Smoke simply groaned and joined Annie with his tongue while his fingers sank inside of her again. To see both of them between her legs like this overwhelmed Amelia in the best way. Smoke’s handsome face and that thick tongue. Annie’s beautiful lips and soft tongue. Amelia had both hands on the back of their heads.

“Give us what we want…”Annie commanded.

“Cum in our mouth…” Smoke said with a husky tone.

Amelia shook beneath their tongues. Smoke could feel her walls clamping down on his fingers.

Husband and wife flicked tongues. Amelia gathered some of her wetness between her legs, sampling it for herself. While she sucked on her fingers, Smoke got on his knees between her legs, aiming his dick at her pussy like a bullseye. Annie spit on his tip before sucking with a greedy mouth.

“You love sucking this dick, ain’t gotta ask you…”

Annie sure did. She hummed in agreement.

Her lips popped off his tip and she grabbed him by the balls while Smoke pointed his dick for entry. Amelia’s lower lip quivered when Smoke only put the tip in.

“Ooo—”

“Didn’t I tell you to relax, gal?”

Smoke popped Amelia on her thigh rough.

“Don’t you move again.”

Smoke started from the top. Annie helped herself to Amelia’s nipples. Smoke pushed in again, feeding her pussy cat more dick than before. Amelia moaned to the ceiling, inner thighs shaking. That curve was a different sensation. Stack’s curved down, Smoke’s curved to the side. He was hitting areas she ain’t never felt with a dick.

“Oh, my goodness,” Amelia inhaled sharply when Smoke plunged deeper, “SIR!”

“Puss, so tight, look at this shit, Annie.”

Annie peered between her legs. She could see her walls tugging on Smoke in a vice grip.

“Open her up, Smoke. She need more dick in her.” Annie said.

Smoke propped himself up and dropped dick off in her wet, tight, slit. Amelia had no where to run. Annie could hear Smoke’s balls slapping Amelia’s ass and he wasn’t even stroking fast. It was a torturous game. He would delve deep, hold, then draw back to the tip, and then deep again in one fluid motion. He wanted her to feel all of him. Amelia couldn’t see past the tears welling up in her orbs.

She was stuttering, mumbling, crying.

“Smoke, my pussy, it’s so open, I feel it–I feel it stretching m–me…”

Smoke didn’t care, he increased the pace of his hips, his groin knocking against her. The bed bounced, whoever stayed beneath them were afraid they’d come through the ceiling for certain.

The sudden sensation of plunging into the wettest vessel crept over Smoke, prickly and twisting his stomach into butterflies. She was creaming on him. And they could all hear it. He had to slow down or else his dick will slip out. Smoke folded Amelia in half and put all his weight on the back of her knees. Annie had to stop sucking on her nipples to see what all that commotion was about.

“Lia…girl…ya’ making a big mess!”

Smoke slammed into her with his toes planted.

“YES!!!!!!”

He buried himself to the hilt to feel her walls convulse with her orgasm. Annie peppered kisses all over Amelia’s face.

Smoke withdrew his hips, dick swinging and dripping, “Aight ass in the air.”

Amelia’s knees wobbled beneath her as she arched her back.

“Let me see…”

Smoke stood behind her, and Annie cleaned her up and did the same for Smoke’s dick. Annie grabbed Smoke at the base and pushed him inside.

“Ahhhhhh, shiiit,” Smoke frowned his face.

He secured Amelia by her hips and pumped her from behind. Her ass ricocheted, cheeks clapping each time Smoke entered her. A wet, slippery sound mixed with skin slapping filled the hotel room. Smoke put a hand between Annie’s legs and stroked her clit, looking her in the eyes. 

Amelia’s hands flailed, and she tried to push Smoke off but he secured her elbows with both of his hands and drilled into her.

“You ain’t goin’ no where, take this dick!”

Annie settled in front of Amelia. Smoke slowed down some so Amelia could eat on Annie’s cat while he fucked her from behind.

“All this ass…”

Smoke slapped her cheeks around.

Amelia tongued Annie’s clit. Annie kept her mouth where it belonged—full of pussy—with a fist full of her hair. Like a good little bitch.

Amelia’s hips shook out of control and she couldn’t utter a sound with her face buried between Annie’s thighs. Smoke didn’t care that she was cumming he fucked that pussy until she was squirting again.

Smoke had Amelia all over that bed. He was gonna get his no matter what.

Annie sat on his mouth, bouncing her pussy on his tongue while he gripped Amelia at the waist to keep her stationary over his dick while he thrusted up into her. Annie leaked down his chin and Smoke whacked her on the rump hard—left cheek, right cheek—until she came for him. All that big beauty glistening with sweat.

Annie climbed off and switched places with Amelia. Amelia sat on Smoke’s face reverse so she could kiss and suck on Annie’s titties while she rode Smoke’s big dick.

Smoke splayed his arms out while Annie did her thing, bouncing on it from base to tip, titties smacking against Amelia’s. They kissed deeply, Amelia smearing her pussy cat all over Smoke’s face.

“Yes, mhm, Daddy this big dick, uhhh, love this dick, Smoke, I love you, I love the way you make love to me, AHHH!”

Amelia could have cried from how beautiful Annie looked. She was right behind Annie, ready to flood Smoke’s mouth. Annie hopped off and Amelia leaned over to suck Smoke’s dick clean. Amelia jerked him while humping Smoke’s face.

“Annie, look how your husband eatin’ this pussy!”

Amelia squeezed Smoke’s dick with both hands and bowed her back, releasing into his mouth. She lifted to give Smoke some fresh air. Smoke was on his knees, Annie and Amelia arched over and sucking his dick in turn. Smoke had both of them by the hair, controlling their movements. He would tug on Annie to let go of his dick with her lips so Amelia could have a turn.

Back and forth. Back and forth.

“I’m a bust…”

He whacked them on the ass and fell back against the bed, his dick jumping and jerking with each swipe of their tongues and suction of their lips. His eyes rolled shut and then came the spasm of his hips. His abs flexed, body pushing to release a load so thick and creamy, Annie and Amelia had a hard time getting it all down. They had to let some of it drip over their breasts and down their chins.

Knock knock knock

“Warm towels and rags, Smoke!”

All three of them laughed, drunk off of sex. Smoke peeled himself from under both women, each of them practically clawing at him to stay in bed.

It was gonna be a long night.

“Ya’ll gotta give me a break…”

Smoke pulled on his pants and opened the door.

Robby tried to peek past him, but Smoke shut the door behind him further.

“Good lookin’ out, Robby…”

“Uh…need some help in there?” Robby asked, rubbing his hands together and licking his lips.

Smoke curled his top lip, mugging Robby down.

“Nah, nigga. I got this.”

Smoke shut the door in Robby’s face.

“Stingy,” Robby whispered spitefully as he walked off.

@blackisy2k @thickeeparker @theereinawrites @angelin-dis-guise @thee-germanpeach @harleycativy @slut4smokemoore09 @readingaddict1290 @blackamericanprincessy @aristasworld @avoidthings @brownsugarcoffy @ziayamikaelson @kindofaintrovert @raysogroovy @overhere94 @joysofmyworld @an-ever-evolving-wanderer @starcrossedxwriter @marley1773 @bombshellbre95 @nybearsworld @brincessbarbie @kholdkill @honggihwa @tianna-blanche @wewantsumheaad @theethighpriestess @nearsightedbaddie @charmedthoughts @beaboutthataction @girlsneedlovingfanfics @cancerianprincess @candelalanegra22 @mrsknowitallll @dashhoney25 @pinkprincessluminary @chefjessypooh @sk1121-blog1 @contentfiend @kaystacks17 @bratzlele @kirayuki22 @bxrbie1 @blackerthings @angryflowerwitch @baddiegiii @syko-jpg @inkdrippeddreams @rolemodelshit

[unholyxthoughts]

The Hoodoo Apprentice

Summary: Amelia packed her things and took a train to Clarksdale Mississippi to reunite with an old friend, Annie. Annie promised she’d teach Amelia the art of Hoodoo. After a month, Smoke and Stack return with a plan to open a Juke Joint.

Warnings: SMUT

Part Two

Elijah ‘Smokes’ truck rolled to a stop. He cut the engine, taking a moment to finish his cigarette before he entered the home he shared with Annie. He could smell her cooking from where he sat, mouth watering. He missed good ‘ol southern cooking, more specifically his wife’s cooking. Smoke tossed his cigarette bud and grabbed a bouquet of flowers that he purchased from Bo Chow before climbing out of his truck. Walking around to the back of the truck, he lifted the tarp and grabbed a wooden crate filled with Irish Beer and Italian Wine.

Smoke made the short walk to the house, ascending the front porch steps before sitting the crate down to open the door. He needed this. No more running away from his problems. He craved his wife in ways he couldn’t put into words. Smoke had a lot of making up to do, and he was a man of action and very few words.

Smoke could hear Ma Rainey playing from a phonograph in the drawing room. He went to let himself in but paused when he’d heard sensual laughter and soft moans. His body moved from the door, down the steps, and around towards the back of the house. He crept stealthily, slowing down when he’d heard his wife’s name in a voice laced with lust…

One hour before:

Amelia held a woven basked against her left hip while she picked a bundle of collards for dinner. Her curly ringlets swept over her face annoyingly. She blew hair from her lips after grabbing the last bit of collards. Amelia makes her way back to the house. She climbed the back steps and through the screen door.

Inside, Amelia looked at Annie who was busy preparing the catfish for frying.

“Got the collards. I’ll go wash ‘em.”

Annie held Amelia’s gaze, “Thank you, Lia.”

Amelia started rinsing the collards off. Annie found herself caught in a trance. Amelia was situated on her knees in front of a bucket of water on the back porch. The motion of Amelia’s hands. The way her curly auburn hair reminded her of cascading stems, twisted leaves, and red, lipstick-shaped flowers.

Annie broke the silence, “Busy day at the shop today.”

“Sure was. Made a good profit too.” Amelia replied.

“…Whatcha think of Smoke?”

Amelia wasn’t expecting that question from Annie. She glanced up through her lashes at her.

“He scares you?” Annie questioned.

Amelia gave Annie a half shrug, “I—He’s a little scary.”

Annie giggled, “A little?”

“He’s a gangster, Annie. Scary comes wit’ the job.” Amelia jokes.

“Smoke is tough, but deep, real deep…he’s a softy.”

Amelia smirked, “Sounds to me you’re his safe space.”

Annie finished prepping the catfish and checked on the frying oil. Amelia brought in the clean collards. Annie situated herself beside Amelia, helping her cut the collards. Amelia stole glances at Annie. Smoke’s coming back did affect Amelia. Ways she never imagined.

“Is this his favorite meal?” Amelia asked.

“Smoke love him some catfish and collards. Throw in some skillet cornbread you got ya’ self a sappy man. Feed him good and put his head between my bosom.”

Amelia laughed lightheartedly. She bumped her hip into Annie’s and Annie reclined her head against Amelia’s shoulder.

“He strikes me as a breast man—”

Amelia stopped herself from talking. She caught Annie smiling at her warmly. Visuals played over and over in her head of the way Smoke sucked on Annie’s bountiful breasts. Like he wanted to fit his entire mouth around all that heaviness.

“He an all up on me man…every inch of me.” Annie spoke with intensity.

Amelia was witnessing in real time the beautiful bond between them. A bond so strong.

“The way he looks at you, it’s just so…so…”

Amelia studied Annie’s face as she tried to convey her feelings.

“…So inspiring.”

Annie’s eyes fell to Amelia’s lips.

“…You saw us havin’ sex…didn’t you?”

Amelia turned away from Annie. She tried to think of a way to respond to her. Too embarrassed to admit it.

“It wasn’t my intention, Annie—I just…”

Annie’s hand pressed against Amelia’s back. Amelia peered into Annie’s eyes. The hand on her back dragged down to her hip and she found herself flesh against Annie. Just like she did Smoke in that Shack, Annie’s lips latched onto Amelia’s ear. Amelia held onto the wash basin to steady herself. Annie’s skillful lips kissing and nibbling on her ear made her legs all wobbly.

“…thing is, I saw ya’ watching, Amelia…I saw ya’ fingering my pussy…”

“Did Smoke—”

“Smoke don’t know nothin’.”

Annie forced Amelia to look at her with a tight hold on her jaw, so tight her lips puckered.

“What happened between us last night…I’ve been fightin’ all damn day to keep from touching ya’. Truth is…I can’t stop…and I won’t stop…”

Amelia melted. Annie stroked her pouty lips with her thumb before sinking it into Amelia’s mouth. Amelia sucked on Annie’s thumb, eyes closed, soft whimpers filling the room. Annie’s thumb slipped away, leaving behind a trail of spit.

“I–I can’t stop daydreaming ‘bout it, Annie. I want ya’ to taste me again…”

Amelia extended a hand and stroked Annie’s cheek with her fingertips. She got up on Annie, breast to breast, and slammed her lips into hers feverishly. The sound of frying oil popping and the insects of the night mingled with smacking lips and soft moans.

Annie groped Amelia’s thick behind through her dress.

“Fuck,” Amelia tongued Annie’s lips, “Let’s go to the room, look how wet I am for you…”

Amelia grabbed Annie’s left hand and snaked it between her legs. Annie stroked Amelia’s pussy through her panties. Soaking wet heat. Annie attacked Amelia’s neck while her fingers pinched her clit through the satin material.

Immediately, Annie could feel her own pussy cat dripping. She wanted so bad to bend Amelia over the wash basin, lift the back of her dress, and ravish her cooze until she cried. Cried for Annie to keep going, cried after each orgasm. Cried like a good little bitch.

Annie needed to stop. If she didn’t, she’d have to eat Amelia on every surface in that house.

“We gotta get this food cooking…”

Annie broke away from Amelia reluctantly. Amelia’s chest heaved up and down. She thumbed away spit from her bottom lip. Annie was right, Smoke could be here any minute. Annie started frying the catfish and Amelia busied herself with the collards. Still, she craved more from Annie.

Sneaky glances, bumping into each other, soft blues with its melancholy instrumental circulating throughout the small home, no matter how hard they tried, neither one of them could resist. Amelia swayed her hips to the rhythm, stirring the pot of collards just the same. Annie had just finished cooking all the catfish and now she was working on the skillet cornbread.

“Shit…”

Amelia glanced over at Annie mixing the cornbread batter. Some of the batter spilled over her hand and fell to the floor. Amelia watched Annie reach for a towel, but before she could use it to wipe her hand clean, Amelia appeared by her side, capturing Annie’s fingers in her mouth.

Annie was paralyzed with lust.

“Amelia…”

Her finger slipped from between Amelia’s pouty lips with a wet pop, “don’t want all that good batter to go to waste.”

Annie’s clit ached.

Amelia trailed Annie’s spit–covered finger down her neck until she circled it around her protruding nipples. Annie’s eyes glossed over with arousal at the sensation of Amelia’s stiff, brown nipples prominently visible through her khaki dress.

“Lia…they so hard…”

Annie regained control of her hands. She cupped Amelia’s breasts and caressed them in a circular motion. Amelia jutted her chest out for more, extending her neck and throwing her head back.

Annie exhales, “You so beautiful, Lia. So soft…so delicious…”

“Not as soft and sweet as you, Annie…”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm,” Amelia stared deeply into her eyes, “A big, beautiful woman.”

She couldn’t take it anymore.

Buttons undone, Annie smoothed the opening of the khaki dress from Amelia’s satiny, chestnut skin. Her cup bra gave her melons extra lift, fleshy mounds like soft pillows. One by one, Annie released a breast, and she caved at the sight of Amelia’s wrinkled areola and hardened nipples.

Annie wasted no time flicking her tongue over each bud with speed. She circled her arms around Amelia’s waist and made love to her nipples with her teeth, lips, and tongue. Amelia chewed on the corner of her bottom lip, watching Annie move back and forth between each breast. She picked it up a notch and spit on her nipples before tweaking them.

“Annie, I’m so sticky between my legs…you’re making me so weak…” Amelia cooed.

Annie tugged on Amelia’s nipples while sucking on her neck.

“I bet that fat pussy is nice and messy…I know it taste good…”

Amelia whimpered when Annie went back to sucking her nipples. Annie forced one hand down the front of Amelia’s dress and wiggled her hand into her panties.

Annie popped a titty from her mouth, “Damn, wasn’t lying about how sticky you are…c’mon, quick…”

Annie quickly helped Amelia out of her dress and panties. She guided her to the back porch and pushed her down onto a chaise. Amelia didn’t have time to spread her legs and bring her feet up because Annie beat her to it.

“You seein’ this?” Annie questioned with a quiver.

Amelia dropped her hooded eyes down between her thighs. She couldn’t believe how soaked her folds are. Like a succulent storing water. Annie didn’t waste another minute. She smacked her lips and suckled Amelia’s pussy with urgency.

“You needed this pussy in ya’ mouth again look how good ya’ eating it, Annie…”

Amelia palmed Annie’s head. Annie strummed her clit with the tip of her tongue.

“Fuuuck…oh, shit,” Amelia moans, “Annie…Annie…Annie…”

Annie’s magical hands shoved Amelia’s thighs back to open her up more. She slurped and lapped at her pussy lips and deeper. Not once did she come up for air. Annie dragged her nails down the back of Amelia’s thighs.

“I’m finna’ cum…”

Amelia stuck two fingers in her mouth to suppress her cries of pleasure. Annie sucked her clit like she was sucking the sweetest juices off. Amelia closed her thighs around Annie’s head.

Smoke remained in the shadows of the Mississippi night and surrounded by evergreen. He had a tight grip on the flowers he’d gotten for Annie. Smoke watched with a twitch of his eyes. Perfectly round and perfectly shaped breasts with brown nipples bounced back and forth. The face of his wife hidden between buttery smooth thighs. The sound of a tongue and the smell of pussy.

His muscles were stiff. Obsidian eyes unblinking. The sharpness of his jaw clenched. Smoke felt all the blood in his veins rush to his dick. Amelia’s face caught the light of the night and it was whimsical. She stroked Annie’s hair affectionately while riding her tongue.

Smoke sensed it. He had a good feeling that Amelia and Annie were fooling around. Now that his suspicions were confirmed, he didn’t know how to handle the way his body felt. A mixture of lust and envy. Lust for the both of them. Lust to taste Amelia off of his wife’s tongue. Lust to join.

Envy because what’s his is on her knees bringing another woman to climax. Envy because whatever they shared, he wanted a piece of. Smoke’s free hand grabbed onto his thick print and squeezed. Tweed material itched his palm. Fuck, he couldn’t believe what he was witnessing. Fuck, he wanted to release his big dick and play with it. The desperation lining his face and the way his tongue smoothed over his teeth, these women sent shockwaves of pleasure through him.

“Annie! I’m cummin’ for you!”

Smoke’s nostrils flared.

“Cum for me, good girl!” Annie praised.

Smoke couldn’t believe the way his dick bulged out.

There was soft laughter followed by Annie surfacing with a wet face and brown eyes drunk with arousal. Amelia cupped her face and flicked her tongue with Annie’s.

“Thank you for that,” Annie kissed Amelia.

“Always,” Amelia spoke against her lips.

They both stood and Annie helped Amelia with her dress. Smoke tip toed away from the yard and pressed his back against the side of the house. He rocked his head back, glancing up at the starry sky. The throb in his dick and balls wouldn’t go away. Kissing his teeth, he drew another cigarette and lit it. His hands shook slightly as he brought it to his full lips.

Amelia.

Her beauty reminded him of a fairy. Something ethereal and magical. Hypnotic. He’d felt it immensely the moment he laid eyes on her. Whatever it is, Annie was under her spell. He’d never known his wife to enjoy some pussy. He had to get himself together before he walked into that house. Shouldn’t be so hard, especially for a gangster with a reputation for violence.

Smoke remained outside for another ten minutes before making his way to the front of the house. He climbed the stairs and twisted the door knob. The door swung open with a creak.

Annie was busy in the kitchen while Amelia plates the table. She wore a different dress, a brightly colored floral dress with a lace–trimmed collar and sleeves. Her long, curly hair was styled in a chic and classic updo with pins. Smoke could tell it was a rush job, because some of the curls framed her face. Amelia’s eyes flicked to Smoke.

Annie looked radiant. She changed into a crushed velvet, dark green dress with chandelier earrings that matched. Her heels click–clacked against the floor boards. Amelia bent over to pick up a cloth that had fallen and the way her backside spread beneath her dress, Smoke’s dick pressed painfully against the seam of his pants. Annie caught his eye and she smiled brightly before making her way over to him. She was wearing her good bra. Those big titties bounced with each step she took.

Smoke gave her a faint smile, holding up the bouquet of flowers. Annie pressed a hand against her bosom and pouted her bottom lip.

“Smoke, these are beautiful!”

Annie accepted the flowers and puckered her lips for a kiss.

“They’re so pretty, Annie,” Amelia said with an elated voice.

Smoke accepted a kiss and then he slipped Annie some tongue. Annie tried to pull away but Smoke placed one strong hand on the back of her neck to keep her tongue in his mouth. The sweet twang of Amelia’s pussy still lingered. Smoke groaned in Annie’s mouth.

Amelia watched them intently while placing silverware on the table. She was absorbed in their intimacy. Smoke caught her eye, staring at her with intensity. Amelia broke her gaze and stroked hair from her face.

He growled.

“Behave,” Annie swatted his bicep, “Dinner is ready. Go clean ya’ hands first.”

Annie turned and Smoke tracked her hips with his eyes.

“Cut all that switchin’ out for I give our guest here a lil’ show.”

That seemed to peak Amelia’s interest. She tried to conceal a smile behind her hand.

“Down, boy,” Annie eyed Smoke up and down.

“Ain’t no boy…”

Smoke tried to stick his fingers in the cornbread. Annie slapped his hand away.

“Go wash ya’ hands, Elijah!”

Smoke pecked Annie’s cheek.

He disappeared to the wash basin.

“Bring anymore wine?” Annie asked.

“Did. It’s on the porch. I’ll go grab some—”

“I got it, Smoke. While you finish washin’ ya’ hands?”

Amelia appeared next to him with an eager smile. Smoke had to collect himself from getting lost in those doe eyes fringed with long lashes.

The very eyes his wife got lost in with a mouth full of pussy.

“Uh, no need, doll. They heavy…”

Smoke wiped his hands on a towel and slipped past Amelia, catching a whiff of her perfume.

Sweet like peaches.

Smoke eyed the table set up, noticing only three plates.

“Shit, forgot to tell ya’ll Stack comin’.”

“No biggie. I’ll put a plate out for ‘em.” Annie replied.

Smoke walked over the threshold and picked up the wooden crate filled with wine and beer. Amelia set up a place for Stack. She walked over to grab an extra chair, but Smoke picked it up before she could. Amelia looked up at him.

“No need, let a man do it.” Smoke said.

“‘Course,” Amelia sauntered back to the table.

Smoke grabbed a bottle of wine.

I’ll put it in the icebox. I know how much you like it chilled.”

Annie brought the food over on serving trays.

Knock knock knock

The door opened.

“Look what the cat dragged in!” Annie said with a laugh.

Amelia’s eyes danced between both men.

Staring at them both, she could tell they were physically identical.

This Stack man just entered the home with a jovial smile filled with deep dimples and golds on his teeth. His eyes sparkled with mischief and foolery.

Amelia gawked at him.

But…their personalities…their auras…vastly different.

Stack removed his red fedora.

“Annie! Sup witcha, woman?!”

“Stack.” Annie said with a smile.

She opened her arms and Stack hugged her tightly.

“Big bro,” Stack dabbed Smoke before pulling him in for a one–armed hug. They did a slick handshake and glided back into a snap, “Woooo, good to see ya’.”

“Just saw ya’ earlier,” Smoke said.

Stack took off his suit jacket and hung it on a coat rack near the front door. His playful, lively eyes fell on Amelia.

Amelia gave Stack a shy wave. Stack strode forward, dapper gait drawing her in.

“Well, well,” Stack nibbled on the toothpick between his teeth and dragged his eyes over Amelia’s frame from head to toe with a tilt of his head, “Who this here, Annie?”

“My friend, Amelia,” Annie’s arm circled Amelia’s waist, “She came all this way from New Orleans to work wit’ me. I’m teachin’ her all I know about hoodoo.”

“She talk?” Stack questions with his brows pinched together and a twitch of his upper lip.

Smoke chuckled low, shaking his head at his brothers antics, “Chill now, Stack.”

“I’m only askin’.”

Stack held his hand out in greeting. Amelia eyed his hand with a slight lift of her brow before extending her hand with the back facing up. Stack wrapped his fingers around her.

“Amelia, huh?

“That’s right.”

Stack pushed the toothpick between his teeth to the side of his mouth. Cute little voice. Sounding like a princess in those fairytales.

“So, you do talk?”

Stack removed his toothpick and leaned in. With her hand still within his grasp, Stack puckered his plump lips and pecked Amelia’s hand like a true gentleman.

“Nice to meet ya’ gorgeous. Hope the Delta treatin’ you right.”

“Is. Thanks to Annie.”

Amelia smiled brightly. Stack stroked the back of her hand with his thumb before finally letting her go. Amelia fiddled with her fingers, darting her eyes away bashfully before swaying over to the table.

Smoke caught his brother’s eye.

Annie cleared her throat.

“Oh, let me clean these hands off.” Stack said.

He walked past the table, rubbing his hands together and licking his lips at the sight of all the food. Smoke pulled out Annie’s chair, and with one hand he pulled out Amelia’s chair. She curtsied before taking her seat. Stack finally joined them, unbuttoning the sleeves to his white shirt and rolling them up his forearms.

“Catfish, collard greens, cornbread, DAMN.”

They each took turns filling their plates.

“Amelia cooked the collards,” Annie shot her friend a look followed by a smile.

“Did she now? Let’s see what we got here…”

Stack and Smoke forked the collards in unison, not even realizing it. Amelia’s eyes danced between them with fascination. Smoke chewed slowly, eyes fixed on Amelia. Stack chewed with his eyes closed, shook his head, followed by a hum of delight.

“Baby girl…you put ya’ foot in this! Gahdamn…”

Annie nudged Amelia with her elbow. Amelia beamed.

Smoke nodded his head before scraping the side of his upper teeth with his tongue.

“They good, Amelia. Real good.”

Amelia twirled the fork in her hand with pride.

“Thank you, Smoke,” She glanced over at his twin, “Stack…”

“Forgot the wine…”

Smoke stood.

“You put a beer in there, Smoke?!”

“I gotcha,” Smoke continued out onto the front porch to grab the drinks.

Stack scarfed down the collards first, fork scraping the plate. Smoke returned and opened the wine, pouring the ladies two glasses full. He unscrewed the cap on the beer for Stack, sliding it across the table where his twin brother caught it with precision.

“Everythang alright, Annie?” Stack asked.

“Better,” Annie locked eyes with her husband, “happy you two made it back in one piece.”

Smoke cut into his catfish with his fork. He added a little hot sauce to it.

“I bet Chicago is nice,” Amelia chimed in, “skyscrapers, broadway…”

“Look nice. Still just the same as the south.” Stack said.

“Did you two stop by to see Sammie?” Annie asked.

Smoke nodded his head, “He good. Still got that guitar we gave ‘em. Daddy doin’ right by ‘em.”

Amelia nibbled on her cornbread drizzled with honey and butter. Stack cleared his plate and sat back to enjoy his beer. He couldn’t help but stare at Amelia. She could feel his eyes on her, looking across the table at him with a piece of cornbread between her fingers and hovering over her pouty lips.

“Amelia. Got a last name?” Stack questions.

“Broussard.”

“Pretty…”

Amelia coaxed the piece of cornbread into her mouth with her tongue. Stack continued to lay on the charm with his deep dimples and attentive eyes. He took a swig of beer as he stared down Amelia like she was the only person who existed.

Smoke glanced between the two of them, fingers digging into his pocket for a cigarette. He grabbed his last one and lit it. Annie sipped her wine and smiled at her husband. Smoke caught her looking and winked at her. Annie placed her hand on his thigh, caressing it.

“We never crossed paths?” Stack questioned Amelia with an expression of betrayal.

“No, Stack,” Amelia giggled genuinely, “Never.”

“You sure,” Stack pointed at her with a finger decorated with a gold ring, “Damn shame. Can’t believe this my first time seeing ya’. Annie, you been keepin’ her to ya’ self?”

Annie gave Stack a coy smile and then locked eyes with Amelia. Both of them looked away quickly, but Smoke was paying attention. He knew everything. She definitely is keeping Amelia to herself. Smoke leaned in to whisper in Annie’s ear.

“You got explaining to do later, baby…”

Annie cocked her head back and dropped her eyes to Smoke’s lips.

“Not as much explaining as you do, Smoke.” She quipped with a roll of her eyes.

Stack filled Amelia’s mason jar with more wine.

“Thank you kindly.”

“Anytime…”

Stack swept his hands down the front of his chest slowly, Amelia shyly pulled her attention to the last bit of food on her plate.

She loved Stack’s energy.

It excites her.

Some time passed and Duke Ellington Orchestra filled the drawing room. While Annie perched her big booty on Smoke’s lap, Stack twirled Amelia around like a merry go round, her dress spinning as she moved. Stack could jive! Amelia grabbed both of his hands and flailed her legs, laughed at Stack’s silly faces, and shook her hips.

Annie tapped her foot to the music. Smoke bobbed his head. Annie’s gyrating in his lap awoke the beast. He looked up at her. Annie felt him poking her rump. She picked up the pace of her hips, teasing him more.

“Annie…”

“What? You sticking me in the ass wit’ that dick.”

“Keep movin’ on me I can’t help it.” Smoke whispered.

“I felt that,” Annie was referring to Smoke making his dick jump, “Elijah…”

There was warning in her voice.

Stack exhaled, wiping sweat from his grow. Amelia fanned herself. Stack held Amelia’s waist as they swayed, hips pressed to each other’s and twin smiles on their faces.

“You the best fuckin’ dancer I ever seen.” Stack said.

“Aren’t you sweet,” Amelia bopped Stack on the nose with her finger, “And you a good time.”

“I try. Gotta make the most outta life with all the other bullshit goin’ on.” Stack replied.

Amelia snaked her arms around Stack’s shoulders.

“You got the sweetest eyes…mind if I call you Princess?”

Amelia chewed on her bottom lip and smoothed her hands down Stack’s chest.

“How much Irish beer you drank?” Amelia asked with a teasing smile, “that liquor got you sweet on me.”

“Not enough,” Stack peeled away from Amelia, “Let me grab some mo’!”

Amelia shook her head at Stack.

Smoke and Annie were dancing now. Amelia took a seat to cool off and removed her shoes. She massaged her left heel and flexed her toes painted red. Stack sought her out and took a seat next to her with a new beer. He slouched in his seat and swung his legs.

Smoke and Annie shared a passionate kiss in the middle of a slow waltz.

Amelia moved her hands up the back of her legs while flexing her ankles. Stack’s eyes were focused on her movements, studying her pretty toes.

“Take a picture. It’ll last longer,” Amelia teased.

“I’d take pictures of you any day. I got a camera back home.”

“So, photography ya’ hobby when you ain’t robbing banks and trains?”

Stack smirked with a single dimple.

“Sum’ like that. Whatchu like to do?”

Amelia pondered, “Reading. I love escaping from reality. Picture myself in a castle in the tallest tower…or going on an adventure…or falling in love…”

Stack studied Amelia. His beer was halfway through.

“We all need a lil’ break from the real, ya’ know?” Stack said.

“Yeah,” Amelia nudged Stack’a shoulder, “If ya’ ever need a good book to read, I’m ya’ girl.”

Stack licked his lips, “I’ll hold you to it, Princess.”

Stack and Smoke shared a cigarette on the front porch while talking closely to each other.

Annie and Amelia had just finished cleaning up. Amelia yawned into her hand. She felt lightweight and relaxed from all the wine.

“Had fun tonight?” Annie asked.

“It was wonderful, Annie. Best time in a long while.”

Amelia wiped her hands off with a towel while staring at the twins in deep concentration.

“Ya’ like Stack?”

Amelia looked at Annie, “He’s a good time. And he’s handsome.”

Annie glanced towards the door. Smoke and Stack had their backs turned. Annie slithered her way over to Amelia, dropping her head to her ear to whisper.

“Careful wit’ ‘em Moore men. They’ll turn your world upside down.”

Annie’s warm breath ghosted across Amelia’s cheek. It made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. She kept her eyes forward.

“And it’s been a while since Nathaniel had ya’ right?”

Amelia clenched her thighs together.

Annie pecked Amelia on the cheek.

“Get you some rest. I’ll see ya’ in the morning.”

“Night, Annie.” Amelia said.

Annie disappeared into her room. Smoke heard the door shut and walked back inside followed by Stack. Stack shut the door behind him. Both men stared at Amelia. Smoke with an unreadable expression and Stack with a flirty smile. She looked away before heading to her room.

“I see ya’ later brother—”

“No, no, no. It’s late stay here.”

“I be aight—”

“Stack. Keep yo’ ass here, understand? Ya’ had too much to drink.”

Stack kissed his teeth, “Then where I’m a sleep, fool? On this hard as floor? In the truck? In your room—”

“Nigga—”

“You can sleep in my room.”

Smoke and Stack looked down at Amelia.

“There’s extra blankets and a pillow.”

“Hm,” Smoke eyed Amelia from head to toe, “See? Now ya’ got an excuse to stay.”

Smoke tapped Stack’s shoulder before backing away to his room. He left his twin brother and Amelia standing there.

Stack was wearing his white button shirt tucked into his pinstriped slacks. The first few buttons on his shirt were undone. A chain hung from his neck with a tiny circular dog tag from WWI. The same one Smoke wore.

“Well,” Stack ushered Amelia towards the room with his hand, “Lead the way, Princess.”

Amelia took slow strides towards the room. Inside, she grabbed extra blankets and one of the pillows from the bed.

“Aye, I got this,” Stack piled the blankets on the floor with the pillow, “I’ll give ya’ a second to change.”

Stack left the room and shut the door. Amelia opened the wardrobe in the room and picked out a lavender chemise with a matching robe. She undressed quickly, slipping on the chemise.

“Stack, you can come in,” Amelia climbed into bed.

The door opened and Stack peeked inside.

“All decent, Princess?”

“Yes,” Amelia slipped beneath the sheets.

Stack walked in, took off his shoes, and his shirt. Amelia chewed on her lip while her eyes swept over Stack’s burly frame. Bulging biceps, a thick yet toned torso, defined pecs. Stack tossed his shirt over a chair in the room and lowered to the floor. He was lying on his back and staring at the ceiling. Amelia turned off the kerosene lamp, bathing the room in mostly darkness.

“Goodnight, Stack.” Amelia said.

“Sweet dreams, Princess.”

On the other side of the house, Annie watched her husband strip down to his underwear, the fabric of his boxer shorts riding up his well–muscled thighs. His mojo bag sat between his pecs along with dog tags that mirrored Stacks. He tied a pressing cap over his hair to make the brush wave style Stack did last longer.

Annie wore a champagne–colored night gown that left little support for her large and heavy breasts, but it was breathable. Her hair was wrapped in a white scarf. Smoke sat on the edge of the bed. Annie got onto her knees behind him, massaging his shoulders.

“What explaining I gotta do, Elijah?” Annie asked.

Smoke shut his eyes and licked his lips with one swipe of his tongue.

“You sure Amelia just your Hoodoo apprentice, baby?”

Annie huffed, “What? Whatchu mean?”

“Ya’ know what I mean, Annie.”

Annie paused.

“…Smoke…”

Smoke looked up at Annie over his shoulder. Annie couldn’t hold his gaze.

“…How you find out?” Annie questioned with a tremble of her voice.

Smoke didn’t respond right away.

“I heard ya’ name, baby. I heard her moaning ya’ name. Then I saw it…I saw you tongue deep in her cooze…”

Annie’s eyes darted to the floor. She slipped her hands away and sat back on her knees. Smoke stood from the bed, facing her.

“How many times?”

Smoke folded his arms over his chest.

Annie shut her eyes slow.

“Three.” She revealed.

Smoke cocked his head.

“You fuck her three times, Annie?”

“Yes…I did,” Annie fiddled with her fingers, “It just—”

“I neva knew you to cheat on me, let alone wit’ a woman?”

Smoke shook his head in disbelief.

What Annie did next surprised him.

She laughed. Smoke furrowed his brows.

“Oh, Elijah,” Annie shook her head between laughs, “You left me for seven years. What did you think I was gon’ do?”

“I came back to you! I love you!” Smoke fired back.

He lowered his voice.

“Stop. Just stop it, Smoke. Ya’ like it.”

“Huh?” Smoke curled his top lip.

“Ya’ heard me. That’s why ya’ kissed me like that before dinner. Ya’ wanted to taste her.”

Smoke shifted his head and shoulders.

“I coulda’ put a root on that dick but I didn’t. Don’t stand there all tough and shit. I know you.”

Annie stood, walking up to Smoke. She got in his face with her hands on her hips.

“Say it. Ya’ like it.” Annie pressed.

“Annie—”

Annie cut him off, “Ya’ wanna play games, I can play wit ya’. Admit to it, ya’ liked seeing me eat her pussy…ya’ liked the way she reacted to it…ya’ like me being wit’ another woman.”

Smoke growled. He wasn’t trying to give in. Annie pressed up on him, never backing down, eyes glued to his.

“Say. It. Nigga.” Annie pressed with sass.

Smoke clenched his jaw. Annie lowered her searing gaze down between her husband’s legs. She almost whimpered. Thick dick twisted to the side in his boxer shorts and poking out the bottom. A big dick.

“…Fine,” Smoke stared her in the eyes, “Yeah. Yeah. I liked it.”

Annie tilted her head, “Wasn’t so hard, now…was it?”

Smoke clenched his shaky hands.

“Shit,” Smoke glared at Annie, “The way you looked…”

Annie placed her hand on Smoke’s chest. She glided it down his body until she was cuffing his dick. It seemed to pulsate in her hand. Annie curled her fingers around his shaft through his boxer shorts. Smoke worried his brows and parted his full lips.

“How did I look, Papa?” Annie whispered seductively.

“So sexy…”

Smoke grabbed Annie’s face and pressed his lips against hers. Their tongues swirled in a sloppy manner. Smoke lowered the straps to her night gown and Annie pulled his boxer shorts down until it fell around his ankles. Smoke stepped out of them, standing before Annie in all his naked glory.

“You actin’ all upset. For what?”

Annie dropped to her knees. Smoke’s big dick was pointed out and curved to the left. Annie looked up at her husband and then wrapped a warm hand around him, stroking him with a twist of her wrist.

“Alls you had to do was be real wit’ me, Elijah.”

Annie tongued the pre cum from his tip. Smoke placed his hands on Annie’s shoulders. He bowed his head to watch her, bottom lip wedged between his teeth.

“You know I’m right,” Annie dragged her tongue along the side of his shaft, “Don’t ya’?”

“Yeah,” Smoke licked his lips, “Stop teasing me, baby…”

Annie wrapped her lips around Smoke’s big dick and fit him all the way down her throat. Annie began sucking, down to the base and back to the tip. She tightened her jaws and rolled her neck to get a good rhythm. Smoke groaned deeply, hand on Annie’s head. Smoke tilted her head back a little so he could fuck her throat with slow, deliberate strokes.

“Fuck, Annie…deep throat on you…”

She was sucking on his pipe and looking him dead in his eyes.

Annie’s sucking made loud, wet sounds and left saliva all over her chin down to her chest.

“Damn,” Smoke could cum from how good it felt, “I wanna eat your pussy.”

Smoke slipped out of Annie’s mouth, dick dripping with spit and throbbing. Deep veins like loving trails for Annie’s tongue. Smoke picked Annie up and put her on her stomach. Annie arched her back and Smoke got down on his knees. He spread Annie’s big cheeks, keeping her open with a firm grip. He caught a whiff of that cooze and almost drooled down his chin.

“So beautiful…so beautiful.”

Smoke rubbed his face in it.

Smoke slobbered all over it.

Smoke sucked to his heart’s desire.

Smoke spanked those cheeks.

Annie was a moaning mess. She couldn’t form words, only sounds.

“Mm…oof…unh…ooo…ahhh…”

Smoke flipped her over. He pushed Annie’s thighs back so far her titties sat beneath her chin. Annie watched Smoke between her fat titties and round belly. He tongue fucked her, got his nose up in it, munched on it all with his eyes on her. Annie’s toes curled at the way his fluffy lips sucked on her clit.

“Smoke!”

She was loud, and she didn’t give a damn.

He ate her pussy up.

Smoke surfaced. He fisted his dick and then pointed it at Annie’s gushy.

“Had my dick so fuckin’ stiff—”

Smoke pushed in and started stroking. Annie watched Smoke’s hips grind, loving his stroke and how it pressed deep to make her cream.

“I’m creaming it, huh?” Smoke slapped her titties.

“Papa!”

“Uh-huh…”

Annie’s titties swayed in a circular motion. Smoke had her thighs out the way. Annie had nowhere to run. He looked up staring into the mirror situated in the corner. A slow smirk painted his lips. Sharp, calculated strokes had Annie gripping him with her walls.

“Cum on Papa’s dick, baby…”

Annie’s eyes crossed. Smoke’s mojo bag dangled in her face.

“Fuck, Annie! This good pussy!”

Smoke’s hips stuttered out of control. The bed creaked from the withering springs. Smoke shot off a thick nut deep inside of Annie’s womb. He propped himself up, staring down at her as sweat dripped onto her. Annie was experiencing an orgasmic high.

“Just what I needed,” Annie opened her eyes to stare at her husband, “I love you, Smoke.”

Smoke grabbed Annie’s hand that was stroking his face and kissed it.

“I love ya’, baby. I’m not mad about Amelia.”

“Ya’ sure?”

“I is,” Smoke leaned forward to kiss Annie, “Just a lil’ jealous. She got ya’ under a spell, baby. Three times?”

Annie giggles, “It’s that good. She tasted good on my tongue?”

Smoke responded with his lips sucking on Annie’s titties.

“I take it that’s a yes?”

Annie lifted Smoke’s face.

“She gon’ be here a while, Smoke…”

Annie thumbed Smoke’s bottom lip.

“…Then we give her a proper welcome.”

Annie’s eyes lit up.

Smoke let Annie up to get dressed. He decided to sleep naked. Annie turned off the kerosene lamp and Smoke settled behind her. He wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her against his front. Annie’s backside snuggled against his dick. The pale moonlight bathed their bodies, the sweat on their dark skin glistening.

@eggnox @blackisy2k @thickeeparker @theereinawrites @angelin-dis-guise @thee-germanpeach @harleycativy @alexbabyyyy @readingaddict1290 @thedondada05 @blackamericanprincessy @aristasworld @avoidthings @brownsugarcoffy @ziayamikaelson @kindofaintrovert @raysogroovy @overhere94 @sug3rco0k1es @joysofmyworld @an-ever-evolving-wanderer @starcrossedxwriter @marley1773 @bombshellbre95 @nybearsworld @blossom3010 @kykylovesblog @desthefanfc @jeurden23janise @brincessbarbie @kholdkill @honggihwa @tianna-blanche @wewantsumheaad @goddessofthundathighs @nearsightedbaddie @charmedthoughts @beaboutthataction @mynameisnikkinik @girlsneedlovingfanfics @candelalanegra22 @mrsknowitallll @pinkprincessluminary @rissa21405 @chefjessypooh @sk1121-blog1 @contentfiend @kaystacks17 @bratzlele @massivewolfslimeturtle @kirayuki22 @bxrbie1 @blackerthings @intellectualassholee @angryflowerwitch @baddiegiii @mysteriouslycertaincherrybl-blog @syko-jpg @inkdrippeddreams @rolemodelshit

[unholyxthoughts]

The Hoodoo Apprentice

Summary: Amelia packed her things and took a train to Clarksdale Mississippi to reunite with an old friend, Annie. Annie promised she’d teach Amelia the art of Hoodoo. After a month, Smoke and Stack return with a plan to open a Juke Joint.

Warnings: SMUT

Part One

Rose of Jericho.

Fixed candles, keeping her altar awake and alive, never wanting the energy to go cold.

Prayer books.

Smudge sticks and herbs.

Mortar pestle.

Tarot decks.

Plants from the garden behind her shack.

Annie stood before her working altar, her sacred space. She began praying over her altar, talking to it, shift the energy over it.

All with intention.

It felt right. Serene. Personal to her.

Across from her, watching her intensely beyond the billowing smoke, was her apprentice named Amelia. Amelia wore an olive green, floral, feed sack dress with a ruffled collar. The dress stopped an inch below her knees. Doe eyes concentrated on Annie as she spoke, teaching Amelia all about hoodoo. Something Annie promised her after Amelia’s grandmother passed away.

The South is haunted. Amelia often referred to her hometown New Orleans as the “Land of the Dead,” for so much blood has been spilled in and over her city that death seems to permeate the air. It can be both suffocating and invigorating. Mistakenly thought of as a place time forgot, New Orleans is a town that accepts the presence of the dead and their influence on quotidian life. The presence of ghosts that bring discomfort to the living; the waves of terror and trauma manifesting as deep melancholia.

Amelia remembers her encounter with a medium back in New Orleans that told her dark spirits lived on her porch, and that her grandmother was protecting her beyond the grave, keeping the spirits out. That gave Amelia a sense of pride. She longed to understand the ways of hoodoo, but for as long as she could remember, when her grandmother passed, the part of her family she lived with until early adulthood refused her to practice rootwork.

She wrote to Annie, remembering her from childhood. Annie was ten years older than Amelia and offered Amelia a chance to visit her in Mississippi sometime if she wanted. Annie was very close with Amelia’s grandmother, so Amelia trusted Annie enough to take a train to Mississippi. She packed two trunks and carried them with her, one heavier than the other and containing all that she could bring that reminded her of her grandmother.

“Ashe…”

“Ashe…”

Annie recapped her Florida water.

“Longer lesson today. You did good, Amelia.”

Annie gave Amelia’s hand an affectionate squeeze. Amelia’s big grin and bright eyes caused Annie to smile.

“A month in and I feel I’ve learned so much,” Amelia studied a rattlesnake root, “I still cling onto the stories my grandmama used to tell me about an old root worker named, Mother.”

Annie nodded her head, “Yeah, she was called Mother as a sign of respect. She was from South Carolina and had great spiritual powers,” Annie says.

“My grandmama would talk about her for hours…her extraordinary ability to control the outcome of situations…”

“That’s why we have to keep the tradition going. This is the tradition of our ancestors…they tried to make us forget…but we ain’t forget our shamanism…” Annie added.

Annie blew out her candles and slipped away from the altar. Amelia followed Annie out of her shack, heading towards the goats. Annie picked up a tin bucket filled with feed and began feeding the goats. Amelia separated towards the back of the shack to tend to the chickens. Dandelion and Pussy Willow circulated around her while she fed the chickens.

Afterwards, Amelia walked down a small dirt path leading to a pond. She stood beneath a willow tree, watching the ripples in the water. One hand slipped into the pocket of her feed sack dress to retrieve a folded letter from her lover back in New Orleans. She reclined against the willow tree, eyes gliding across the wrinkled paper.

To my sweet Amelia,

I’ve waited for you to return to me. I know that our relationship is forbidden, seeing as I’m still married to Odessa. It hurts my heart that you ran away to Mississippi. I want to love you. I want to make you my wife. Fiona won’t divorce. I’m left wondering if we will ever be…

She’d read that letter five times. Still, she refused to continue being with a man that couldn’t give his heart to her completely. That told lies of love in her ear only to go back home to his wife and children. She didn’t feel a calling to be with Nathaniel any longer. He was dead to her.

Amelia is a giving, kind soul. Love and compassion made her who she was. She refused to settle when she could find it elsewhere. Amelia balled up the letter with a tight fist. The sound of footsteps against rocks caught her ear. Amelia perked up, facing the source. Annie was seeing right through Amelia.

“That letter got a hold on you sum’ fierce.”

“What do I do? He was my first…”

Annie tilted her head, “You gots to free yourself from him, Amelia. You let go. Don’t let this weigh down ya’ energy.”

Amelia exhaled, “Am I ever gon’ find love?”

Annie gave Amelia a compassionate smile, “No one is ever gonna love you the way ya’ love yourself. No one is ever gon’ think as much of ya’ as ya’ do yourself. When we think that they are, we build ourselves up to be hurt.”

Annie’s sullen voice as she spoke those words told Amelia that she had to speak that into existence for herself as well. Amelia never pried, but she knew of Smoke.

“Come on, let’s clean up shop and head on back to the house.”

Annie draped an arm over Amelia’s shoulder comfortingly.

“It’s very important to think highly of yourself, to really love yourself. Spirit listens to what we think. It’ll begin to believe that that’s what ya’ want in life. It’s so important to love ourselves, Lia. Ya’ understand me?”

“Yes, Annie,” Amelia leans her head on Annie’s shoulder.

After closing the shack for the rest of the day, they take the twenty minute walk down to the house.

Shaded and hidden, Annie’s home was a comfort zone. You could feel the protective energy the moment you stepped foot on the property. Behind the home, copper stills used to produce moonshine were empty and untouched. Prohibition was still ongoing, so Amelia assumed Annie’s husband, Smoke, was using the stills to make the illegal drink and selling it.

A screened in back porch had an enormous, heavy–duty, galvanized steel tub, a sitting area, and beyond that into the yard was a garden full of produce, greenery, flowers, and herbs. To the left of the garden were clothing lines and several washboards and basins. On the right were the copper stills.

The inside of the home was small and intimate. Annie and Amelia would take turns doing open hearth cooking with cast iron pots and pans, lodge deep fryers, dutch ovens, long utensils, and various mits. Cranes and trammels were used to suspend the kitchenware when it wasn’t being used.

A round, elm wood dining table with four matching chairs sat in the center of the room and towards the entrance of the home were two rocking chairs, a throw rug, and smaller wooden chairs reclined against the brick wall for guests. A small fireplace held photos and sage. While Annie disappeared into her bedroom, Amelia lingered. Beneath the setting sun, Amelia folded her arms against the fireplace mantel and rested her head against her shoulder. She studied a photo of Smoke and Annie.

Amelia ran her pointer finger over the edge of the brass frame. Smoke sat proud next to his wife. Annie stood tall, one hand draped over his shoulder. Somehow, the power of their love seemed to reverberate from the photograph. Amelia could feel the strength of their bond. She craved a bond like that. Needed a taste of what it was like. Even with Smoke gone, Annie knew he would return. She knew he’d be back for her.

to favour you, like you, hire you, love you, marry you, stay with you, return to you, reconcile with you, give you a written recommendation, give testimony in your favour, decide a legal issue in your favour over another…

“Figured we could make a pot of gumbo…add in some fresh okra.”

Amelia turned her attention to Annie. She was tying a half apron around her voluptuous waist. One final look at the photo, she separated herself from the mantle to join Annie.

“Gumbo sounds good, Annie. I can make us some rice to go with that if you like?”

Amelia plucked an extra apron off a wall hook. She brushed past Annie, the flesh of her arm grazing against hers. Annie’s magnetic gaze turned on Amelia.

“Sack of rice is on the back porch. I’m a grab some butter from the ice box.”

Amelia scooped up enough rice for the both of them. Annie returned with butter and other ingredients she needed. A wooden chopping block was covered with vegetables and meat. Annie grabbed a bottle of wine and filled two mason jars with it.

Time passed and the aroma of spices filled the room. Annie kept the back door open for some fresh air since the back porch is screened in. Amelia helped herself to more wine while Annie removed the gumbo from the open flame. The sweat on her skin felt wet and cool as it evaporated. The salty taste of sweat covered her lips. Annie’s rich, dark skin glistened like polished onyx within the low lit room. Her bosom sat up high like a shelf and bounced every time she flounced back and forth.

“You know, you never told me the beginnings of a love story between a Big Six and A Conjur Woman.” Amelia said with an enticing lilt.

Annie flashed Amelia a meek smile, “I didn’t, did I?”

“No. Tell me.”

Annie wiped her hands on her half apron before grabbing her wine. She took a sip before taking a seat at the table.

“When me and my mama came to Clarksdale from Baton Rouge…I was afraid. Afraid to make a new life fa’ myself. I was seventeen. It’s like she knew about Smoke before he even opened his mouth to talk to me, ya’ know? We sort a…found each other. He tracked down the girl lingering outside of her mama’s shack…the shack that became mine when she joined the ancestors…his quiet yet strong presence…”

Annie continued after another sip of wine, “I was…innocent then,” She laughs, “Being with Smoke…I found my voice…with him away…I’ve learned to love myself…I have so much belonging here…my daughter’s grave is here…we share so much history…ain’t no man like ‘em.”

“Wow,” Amelia released a shaky breath, “The hairs on my arms are standing up.”

“Don’t flatter me, gal!” Annie said.

“Serious! It’s beautiful! What’s a girl gotta do to get that typa’ love?! Make a honey jar?!”

“Oh, Lia. Trust me, gal, what me and Smoke have isn’t all glitz and glamour. We have our problems…”

Amelia twirled her empty mason jar. She peered up at Annie with a light–hearted smile.

Annie slapped her hand on the wood table, “Let’s eat us some gumbo.”

Amelia stood from her seat to grab bowls and spoons. Annie stirred the pot of gumbo, and Annie filled the bowls with rice. With two generous servings, they situated themselves at the dining table. Amelia carefully scooted in to avoid scuffing the floor. The first spoonful reminded Amelia of home. She hummed with joy, swaying her legs beneath the table.

the combination of a richly flavored stock, the use of a roux, and the integration of aromatic vegetables, spice, and meat of choice. The dark, deeply browned roux, in particular, contributes a rich, nutty flavor and a creamy texture.

“Like a gris–gris, everything in that pot of gumbo is put in it with intention, all ‘da way down to the roux.” Annie said.

Amelia scraped the side of her bowl with her spoon, “Have ya’…ever…sweetened a situation?”

“‘Course I have! I do it to represent me. So I’m kinder and more loving. I…” Annie ran a finger over the edge of her mason jar, “I wanted to make the love between me and Smoke stronger. Another form of protection.”

“Ah,” Amelia lightly chuckles, “I see.”

Annie grabbed the bottle of wine and shook it gently.

“Empty. I can grab us another bottle, put it in the icebox.”

Annie stood from her seat and stretched her arms. Amelia’s eyes did a quick sweep of Annie’s frame before standing up herself. Amelia thumbed away sweat from her brow before grabbing their empty bowls.

“I’ll clean, you gon’ on a wash up first, Lia.”

“Sure?”

“Yes,” Annie replied with a laugh, “Go on out there.”

“Let me grab my things.”

Amelia walked towards the room she occupied.

She grabbed her wash rag and a linen towel then turned on a kerosene lamp to give the room more light. Amelia began to undress. She stood in front of the wardrobe and reached behind her to unzip the feed sack dress she wore followed by unhooking her cup bra. The cool evening breeze brushed across her tacky skin perking her brown nipples and giving her goosebumps. Amelia shimmied her hips while slipping off her panties with a lace trim.

Amelia wrapped the linen towel around her body before leaving her room. Annie was busy scrubbing the kitchen clean with a brush. She paused as Amelia slipped out into the yard to wash. The minute she stepped out, she dropped the towel from her naked body and proceeded to step into the tub. Amelia used soap that Annie made herself. The scent of lavender and honey filled her nose.

Annie entered the back porch to dry the cookware. Amelia used a bucket to rinse her back, the soap suds glinting against her skin beneath the moonlight. Water dripped from her nipples like the dew on the edge of a leaf. Amelia got the sense that she was being watched. Her doe, brown eyes locked with Annie’s. Quickly, Annie diverted her attention to cleaning.

Neither of them acted on their unspoken desire.

No matter how hard Amelia tried to hide it, Annie always succeeded when it comes to making her heart flutter. It could be the smell of her perfume, a strong botanical character, vibrant and dark, with floral and animalic touches, enlivened with a spicy touch. An olfactory symphony of white, green, brown and red tones, ready to stimulate and connect with internal feelings such as hope, resilience and desire.

The way she walked or her smile. Whatever it is, Amelia gets caught in the rapture every time.

Annie had never been with a woman. Never thought to be with a woman. Amelia has this lustful innocence to her, which is contradictory in nature. A hungry tongue beneath a sheepish grin. She couldn’t explain why Amelia made her feel this way. Whenever she’s near, Annie’s guaranteed to feel warm all over. There is no doubt she’s under Amelia’s spell, effortlessly.

“Annie, could ya’ fetch my towel?”

Amelia stood, the bath water streaming down her body sensually. It continued to cascade as the water within the tub sloshed beneath her feet.

Annie reached for Amelia’s towel and held it open for her to walk into. Ample breast that sat heavy yet firm. Slim but not wasp–like waist. Generous hips. The epitome of an hourglass shape. The breathtaking curve of her plump butt was simply stunning.

“It’s getting a little nippy out here,” Amelia felt the towel encase her body from behind, “Your turn,” She whispered softly.

Annie scanned Amelia’s body before walking away.

Her eyes couldn’t help but to reveal her sexual desire.

Amelia caught it.

“Let me?”

Amelia worked on removing Annie’s blue blouse. A row of buttons down the spine. Amelia undid each one with a methodical touch. Annie shut her eyes and her lips parted with longing. Amelia slithered her fingertips beneath the fabric and guided it over Annie’s broad shoulders. Annie’s hands clenched into fists at her sides.

“You know, Annie…I haven’t thanked ya’ enough for givin’ me a place to stay. For takin’ the time to teach me…”

“You mean a lot to me, Amelia. And I made a promise.”

Amelia began unhooking Annie’s bra. Annie’s pulse quickened. Her body temperature rose as sweat trickled down her spine and between her full, sagging breasts. The air felt heavier. Like the frequency on that porch changed.

Annie turned to face Amelia, her fat titties mouthwatering and inviting. Amelia clutched the front of her linen towel with a searing sigh. Annie undressed from the waist down, belly, hips, and rotund ass revealed. She slithered past Amelia for the tub, leaving her standing there at a loss for words.

“I…I’ll go get dressed,” Amelia held the towel against her tighter, “Enjoy ya’ bath.”

Annie sank into the water, using her hands to drench her breasts. Fiery eyes lingered on Amelia.

“I will, Lookin’ forward to that wine. Nice and chilled.” Annie teases.

Amelia gawked at Annie for a second before gathering herself to enter the house. Back in her room, she cracked her door. Amelia attempted to calm her racing heart. She sat on the edge of her bed and began applying coco butter to her skin from head to toe. A rose pink chemise was folded neatly beside her. Amelia slipped it on.

A soft knock to her door caused her breath to hitch.

“Decent?” Annie called out from the other side.

“Yes,” Amelia opened the door, “How was your bath?”

“Soothing.”

Annie wore an ivory night gown with a scarf on her head. Her skin was also slathered with cocoa butter. She displayed the bottle of wine covered in condensation and dripping water from the icebox.

Amelia gave Annie a radiant smile, “Where to?”

“Drawing room,” Annie turned away, “Come on.”

The phonograph played a Bessie Smith song while Amelia and Annie danced circles around each other with their mason jars full of wine. Tipsy and giggling, Amelia showed Annie how to Lindy Hop. They held hands and twirled and waltzed.

“Oh, come on, Annie! Show me whatcha got! Hips on you I know you gets down!” Amelia exclaimed.

Annie bent over and shook her rump, cheeks bouncing and swallowing the nightgown she wore. Amelia smiled wickedly before shooting Annie a wink.

“Lawd!” Annie fans herself.

“I bet you give Smoke a run for his money,” Amelia’s hands went into her hair to fix it. Curly tendrils fell into her face, “I’m right, ain’t I?”

“He ain’t marry me fa’ nothin’.”

Annie took a seat on one of the chairs against the brick wall. Adding more wine to her mason jar, she watched Amelia dance. She did a solo slow drag with an exaggerated movement of her hips. Annie crossed one leg over the other lip resting on the rim of her mason jar while her eyes were on Amelia. Amelia threw her arms up and twirled, back facing Annie now while she brought her hips low in a forceful manner.

Her rose pink chemise would roll over her ass each time she brought her hips back up and Annie caught a glimpse of Amelia’s pink slit from behind. Hips moving so purposefully, opening her up from behind. Annie exhaled, a knowing look on her face. She could feel her clit pulsating between her generous thighs.

“Lia,” Annie sat her mason Jar down beside her foot, “C’mere.”

Amelia pressed a hand to her stomach, a cunning look in her doe eyes. She stood before Annie. Right between her legs. Annie crooked her head in a way to entice Amelia.

“Turn ‘round.”

Good–natured, Amelia did as she was told. Annie reached out a shaky hand, lifting Amelia’s chemise from behind. Amelia gasped. Two heavy–set ass cheeks.

“Bend over.”

Amelia shifted her feet to widen her legs before bending forward. She grabbed onto her ankles.

Annie sat back in the wooden chair. She toyed with the Santeria beads around her neck with anticipation and slack–jawed. A patch of pubic hair sat above bare pussy lips. Pussy lips that glisten beneath the kerosene lamps. Rosey pink like the satin chemise she wore. Annie spent time studying Amelia in that position. Soon, she found herself sitting on the edge of her seat.

Annie spread Amelia apart. Held her apart with a firm grip. Her sweet pheromones wafted her nose. Annie nibbled on her bottom lip. Amelia huffed when Annie thumbed her pussy lips apart so wide she could feel her clit stretching.

“Oh, Annie…”

The soft lilt of her voice drove Annie to her feet.

“Go to your room. Go.”

It was an order. The conjure woman meant business.

Amelia scurried towards her room. Annie entered soon after. Amelia faced Annie, the thin strap of her chemise dangling from her left shoulder.

“Go ‘head. Take it off. ‘Dats whatcha want, right?” Annie taunted.

“…I do.” Amelia confessed, “And so do you, Annie.”

Amelia wasted no time undressing.

“You ever been wit’ a woman?” Amelia asked.

“No. You?”

Amelia shook her head real slow. She walked to the bed with a purposeful switch of her hips before kneeling on it. Amelia looked back at Annie over her shoulder.

“I’ve heard you…in the nighttime…pleasuring ya’ self, Annie. Smoke’s name on your tongue…”

“Been a long time for me. And then here you come…dragging in your sexy energy. Capturing me wit’ those eyes…and that sweet drawl…”

Annie stood behind Amelia.

“Bend over, Lia. I wanna taste you.”

Soft mewling echoed across the room.

Amelia’s knees experienced discomfort from the thin material of the mattress over the metal frame. Annie was on her knees, nightgown down and around her hips while her greedy lips feasted on Amelia from behind.

Annie sucked.

Annie licked.

Annie nibbled.

Annie kissed.

Amelia had never experienced cunnilingus. Not even with her lover Nathaniel. Annie’s crude slurping and the wet thrashing of her tongue over places that had Amelia clenching up filled the room.

“Annie, yes, feels so good,” Amelia moans, “Please don’t stop priestess…”

Annie with her hooded eyes and lascivious mouth.

She scrunched her face up with arousal whenever some of Amelia’s pussy juice dripped. And boy, was she dripping. Annie cradled her clit between her lips and sucked. Amelia reached around to grab Annie’s wrist.

“I think I’m cummin?”

The sweet and innocent way she spoke those words let Annie know she never experienced such a thing before. Whatever Nathaniel THOUGHT he was doing, wasn’t what Annie was giving her. Pleasure beyond words.

Amelia gripped the sheets and trembled in Annie’s mouth. A trail of her own release dripped like honey to the bed. Annie delivered soft sucks and Amelia exhaled a shaky breath. Annie wasn’t through.

Amelia felt Annie’s lips release her folds. She reached out for her, craving that feeling again. Annie grasped her hand.

“Turn over, I’m not finished. I promise.”

Amelia moved to her back. Annie pushed her thighs open with force. Amelia eyed how Annie’s face was soaked. Her breasts sat on the bed just beneath Amelia’s ass. Annie locked eyes with Amelia and started eating her coos some more. Amelia plucked her nipples.

“Annie, shit…”

Annie worked her tongue, causing Amelia’s hips to arch from the bed.

“Don’t run,” Annie buried her face in it, “Sweet pussy…”

“Unh!”

Amelia snatched Annie’s scarf from her head and grabbed her by the hair. Annie rubbed her hands all over Amelia’s ass lovingly, dragging them down the back of her thighs. Amelia creamed, and Annie twirled her tongue in it to clean it up.

“YES!”

Amelia seized. Annie looked at her, all while slurping on her pussy cat hungrily and with so much vigor.

“ANNIE!”

Amelia sat up on her elbows. Tears rolled down her cheeks. Annie didn’t stop. She couldn’t stop. If she could sleep with her mouth latched onto Amelia’s pussy she would.

Amelia gasped when Annie sank two fingers in her.

“So wet,” Annie smiles, “You nasty girl…I’m a give it to you whenever I want it…this pussy mine, hear me?”

“Yes, yours, all yours, take it, fingers so deep—”

“Look at ya’…all this mess…”

Amelia didn’t have to look. She could feel it. Smell it. Hear it. A gushy, sweet release. Annie pressed her lips against Amelia’s while her fingers pumped.

“Annie, Annie, wait, Annie, I’m a pee!”

“Oh, yeah?”

Annie kissed down Amelia’s chest and started sucking on her nipples. Amelia watched Annie’s fingers and she couldn’t believe how drenched down to her wrist she was. That sensation came back again, and Amelia couldn’t hold back. Liquid gushed onto the floor. Amelia watched with a mixture of awe and disbelief.

“Fuccccckk!”

“Keep cummin’ good girl…”

Annie rubbed her fingers up and down Amelia’s clit while sucking each nipple. The dual sensation had Amelia nibbling on her bottom lip, fighting back tears.

Annie’s fingers rubbed from top to bottom, slick with her wetness. Their lips collided, wet–smacking and tongues thrashing.

“I wanna taste it…”

Annie reluctantly removed her fingers. She watched Amelia clean them off with a smile.

“Can I taste you now, Annie?”

The desperation in Amelia’s voice.

Amelia dropped her eyes to Annie’s breasts. She grabbed one, lifting it to her mouth. Annie helped her by lifting them and pointing them towards her mouth. Annie shifted her body, keeping her legs wide open, and started sucking on Annie’s nipples. Between licks and sucks, Amelia would release a sensual sigh.

“Their so big, Annie…”

Amelia kissed around Annie’s areola. Annie licked her lips. She couldn’t believe how slick her inner thighs were. Amelia’s pouty lips on her nipples sent chills down her spine. Annie stood, propping one leg on the bed. Amelia took one look at Annie’s bushy twat and dropped to her knees.

“Get in there good, Lia…”

Amelia spread Annie open. She was hit in the face with a pleasant musk that made her smile.

“Damn, Annie…”

Amelia buried her face in it. Annie ground her hips down. She palmed a breast with one hand while controlling Amelia’s head with the other. Amelia circled her tongue over Annie’s clit to bring it out before sucking on it.

“Lia…”

Annie couldn’t see past her belly, but she could feel Amelia’s fervent tongue deep inside and all around.

“Eat this pussy!”

Annie sat on the edge of the bed and with her hand in Amelia’s hair, she shoved her face between her legs again. Amelia lapped her up like a good little bitch on all fours. Annie’s titties touched her stomach and her toes curled when Amelia started sucking up and down.

“Workin’ for ‘dat cum, huh?!!”

“Hmmmm,” Amelia hummed.

Annie smacked her breasts together and brought a nipple to her mouth.

“Fuck, Lia, baby, babyyyyy!”

Her orgasm came crashing down on her. Annie’s eyes bugged out and her mouth fell open in a silent scream.

Amelia kissed Annie’s clit before coming up for air. Annie grabbed Amelia by the neck and stuck her tongue in her mouth. Their heads swayed as they battled for dominance. Annie reached around to pop Amelia on the rump. Amelia thumbed Annie’s nipples.

All night.

All night long.

They ate each other’s pussies.

Annie made Amelia ride her face.

Amelia begged Annie to let her eat it from the back.

Sweat, the funk of sex, and pleasant giggles.

Until they fell asleep in each other’s arms.

The chirping of birds woke Annie. The sun peeked through the window, laminating her rich, ebony skin. Amelia was sound asleep next to her, sleeping on her back. Annie sat up, breasts defying gravity. She could still taste Amelia’s pussy on her lips.

Amelia stirred awake. Annie turned in the bed, her breast pressed against Amelia’s back. Amelia glanced over at Annie with sleepy eyes. She looked radiant. Skin a chestnut brown. Annie dragged her fingertips over Amelia’s arm.

“Good mornin’.” Amelia said with a sleepy eyes–laden voice.

“Mornin’ Lia.”

Annie hooked Amelia’s chin, leaning in for a kiss.

“What a night,” Amelia beamed.

“Mhm…”

They rubbed noses before kissing again. Annie palmed Amelia’s full breast that sat up like melons. She twirled her left nipple between her thumb and pointer finger.

“You’re makin’ my pussy wet…”

“That’s what I want,” Annie nibbled on Amelia’s bottom lip, “Let me look at it.”

Annie situated herself on her back. Amelia climbed up reverse cowgirl. Hair in her face, giving her a glamorous look, she looked back at Annie. Amelia rolled her hips, arching her back like a feline. Annie pulled Amelia closer to her face.

“Bounce ‘dat pussy on me…”

Amelia teased Annie’s tongue with her pussy. While Annie slapped her cheeks around, Amelia thrust two fingers in her.

“Annie, you’re so messy,” Amelia moaned, “Such a fat ‘ol pussy…”

Annie ate Amelia to her hearts delight. Tongue all in her pussy, lips all over her clit, slit dripping down her chin.

“Cum for me, Lia, please…”

Annie was desperate for it.

“I’m a drown you, Annie!”

Amelia wiggled her hips and rode Annie’s face hard. It was a sight to see. She looked so beautiful. So majestic. Breathtaking. Annie and all her voluptuous glory with her thighs wide open and toes pointed to the sky. Two sexy, black women delivering pleasure to each other.

“Annie! Oh, Annie!”

Amelia frowned her face as she climaxed.

Annie was close. Amelia climbed off and buried her face in between Annie’s big thighs.

“Uh–huh! Uhhhhhh.”

Annie combed Amelia’s hair from her face so she could watch her lick her button while fingering her wet hole.

“Oooo, Lia!”

The bed dipped from the force of Annie’s release. The metal headboard banged against the wall loudly.

“Damn! That’s good!”

Amelia resurfaces and straddles Annie. She cupped her face and kissed her deeply. Annie wrapped her arms around Amelia’s waist, pulling her in tighter.

“All that cummin’ got me hungry.” Annie said.

“Grits?” Amelia asked.

“You know I don’t pass up on grits now.”

Amelia climbed off of Annie. She found her rose pink chemise and pulled it over her body. Annie watched her with a smile.

“I’ll get the fire goin’!”

Amelia skipped off in orgasmic bliss.

Annie busied herself with getting dressed. She left to the outhouse to relieve herself and then returned to find Amelia mixing grits and adding cheese.

“Smells good,” Annie situated herself next to Amelia, “Grits damn near perfect.”

“Thank you,” Amelia replied with a coy smile.

“Afternoon, Annie! Amelia!”

“Hello, Miss Ruby.” Annie replied.

“How you, Miss Ruby?” Amelia asked.

“I’m well, came to grab me a little devil’s shoestring.”

“Of course,” Annie slipped over to where she kept her herbs.

Annie scanned the shelves twice.

“Shit, Amelia, I forgot to grab the devil’s shoestring from the yard, mind grabbing me some?”

Amelia climbed down from a stool. She smoothed out her khaki dress that fit her like a glove.

“You know I don’t mind, Annie. Anything for you.”

Amelia drank Annie in while discreetly licking her lips. Annie’s breath hitched. Amelia smoothed past her, reaching behind her to palm Annie’s ass out of sight before leaving out the back door of the shack. Amelia made the ten minute walk back to the house. She sang a jazz tune to occupy her time, picking dandelions along the way. In the distance she could see two little girls running towards the shack with pigtails and laughter.

Amelia walked around back, careful not to step on Annie’s plants. She found the devil’s shoestring, grabbing what she needed of it. Amelia placed it over her apron and cuffed the bottom to keep it in place so she could carry it back to the shack. Amelia squinted her eyes against the Mississippi sun, singing the words to a country blues song.

Was in the summer,

One early fall,

Just tryin' to find my

Little all and all

Now she's gone,

An' I don't worry.

Lord, I'm sittin' on top of the world…

“That was fast.”

Amelia handed over the devil’s shoestring. She went over to wait for Miss Ruby to pay.

“Might be back later, Annie. How long are you open today?”

“Depends, might stay til about four.”

“How much?”

“Five cents.” Amelia said.

Miss Ruby paid her bill.

“You ladies have a good one—oh! Lookie!”

Two little girls entered the shack. Amelia waved hello and offered them a lollipop. Annie and Amelia’s eyes met and both of them smiled knowingly at each other. Scenes from last night still vividly remembered.

“You girls behaving?” Annie questioned with a hand on her hip.

“Yes, Miss Annie!”

“That was way too orchestrated,” Amelia teases, “ya’ll sure?”

“We’ve been good!” The eldest of the girls said.

“Mhmmm.”

Amelia finished stocking and placed the wooden stool away.

The sound of a vehicle approaching caught their attention. Annie peered out of the front door, squinting her eyes to see if she recognized whoever it was. Amelia watched the little girls picking out of the candy bowl again. Amelia swept her eyes over Annie, noticing a visible change in her body language. Curious, Amelia walked over to a window to see who was there.

Her eyes fell on the back of a man crouched down before Annie’s baby’s grave. He dusted it off and placed flowers there, and then he raised his head, staring at Annie situated in the doorway. A pause filled with tension followed by strained silence formed between them. As Annie descended the short stairs, she approached the man carefully, her features guarded. The man stood tall, wearing a tailored, charcoal grey tweed suit with padded shoulders and a blue button down. He placed his blue scalley cap on his head as they spoke.

After they exchanged words, Annie turned her back on him and entered the shop. Amelia quickly turned away from the window, the man followed behind her and Amelia froze.

“Just this, Miss Annie…and a pinch of high John…”

Amelia watched the man while she stood behind a counter. She tried to busy herself with rearranging old books, but her eyes couldn’t stray away from him. His presence commanded attention. Stony expression, he grabs a pipe from a hook on the wall. Quiet, imposing, at first glance not too friendly. His eyes snapped to Amelia and she diverted her gaze to the little girls leaving the shop.

“I can’t believe you taken this make believe shit—”

Annie pulled a straight razor on Smoke. Amelia’s eyes widened.

“Smoke you betta gimmie my money for I cut yo black ass—”

“Put that blade away, woman,” Smoke reached in pocket, withdrawing cash, “Take ‘dis—”

“I don’t want yo’ money.”

Amelia felt she was in the middle of something she had no business witnessing. Smoke’s arrival threw Annie off. Amelia remembers Annie mentioning that he’d be back any day now.

“Yo’ money come wit’ blood.”

Amelia stumbled against Annie’s alter on her way towards the back of the shack. Annie focused on her after accepting the money back from Smoke that the little girls gave her. She averted her gaze before clearing her throat to speak.

“Amelia, ‘dis here is my husband, Smoke.”

“…Hello.” Amelia greeted him timidly.

“Nice to meet you,” Smoke surveyed her with a curious expression.

“She’s my apprentice.” Annie revealed.

Amelia shifted her gaze to Annie putting on a smile.

“Apprentice of what?” Smoke questioned with a quirked brow and his lips poked out in annoyance.

“Rootwork. She’s been wit’ me for a month. Came all ‘dis way from New Orleans.”

Smoke eyed Amelia from head to toe. Amelia tried her best not to cower beneath his fierce gaze.

“Welcome to the Delta, Amelia. You in good hands wit’ Annie.”

An awkward silence blanketed them. Smoke looked between Amelia and Annie with a sharp gaze. Amelia felt exposed beneath his onyx eyes. She flinched slightly, spooked by his presence. She didn’t have to know everything about him to know he was ruthless. It was palpable. Radiated from him like the scent of cigarette smoke, elemi, sensual hints of jasmine and lily of the valley.

“I’ll go check on the chickens, Annie.”

Amelia disappeared out the back door, chest rising and falling with rapid breaths.

Did he sense that Annie and her had sex? The way he looked between them…

Amelia stilled her shaky hands enough to feed the chickens. The fresh air seemed to calm her nerves. She could make out their voices, subtle but clear. After she finished, Amelia sat on a stump and released her long, curly hair from its pinned updo. Her eyes fixated on the shack, deciding to wait a moment before returning. She had to get herself together. Amelia didn’t want to put a wedge between Smoke and Annie.

But the way Annie made her body feel…

Amelia shut her eyes, the wind picking up to cool her skin set ablaze by the images playing in her mind. The sweet tang of Annie’s phat pussy lips against her mouth. The firmness of her lips and the slickness of her tongue. Her moans.

Her moans…

Amelia stood. she crept over to the back of the shack. Amelia peeked inside, keeping herself hidden as best as she could.

“Ton corps ne m’ a pas oubliée…”

Amelia knew exactly what she said. And the visual before her eyes caused her to clench her thighs and gnaw on her bottom lip to conceal a whimper of pleasure. She clung on to the edge of the doorway, grip so tight she could feel the splintered wood prick her fingers.

Smoke bent Annie over, lifted her skirt, and ripped her panties off in one motion. He released a dick so big Amelia’s knees buckled. Smoke used one hand to spread Annie’s abundant cheeks and tapped her wet pussy with his tip. Amelia could hear it. She could hear how wet Annie’s pussy is.

Smoke thrust up into her, Annie releasing a strangled cry. Her face frowned up at the invasion. That pussy needed to be broken in. It’s been way too long. Smoke had a hold of her big hips with his feet planted firm. He looked down on Annie as he delivered sharp, powerful thrusts. His thrusts were slow and precise. Annie’s eyes crossed and her mouth hung open like her jawbone lost its anchor.

Smoke’s expression showed just how much he missed her. Missed that pussy. Missed those hips. Missed the way she tugged on his big dick. Amelia felt her cheeks grow warm. She couldn’t look away. The love making was too intense. Too consuming. Too spell bounding. Amelia’s forehead pressed against her hand. Her free hand gathered the bottom of her dress.

“I missed being in my pussy…”

Amelia whimpered.

She slipped her hand inside her panties. Amelia had to bite down on her hand to keep from moaning, but her body was having a visceral reaction to how soaking wet she was. Amelia wasted no time sinking two fingers knuckle deep. She felt herself drooling over her hand. In and out, in and out, she hiked her leg up on the steps and went to town on that pussy. Creamy sound so loud that if it weren’t for Annie’s moans they probably would have heard it.

Smoke flipped Annie around, picked her up, sat her on the table and threw her legs over his arms. Annie lined him up and Smoke thrust forward, filling her up again with all that dick. They locked eyes and didn’t look away from each other.

“Smoke! You beatin’ it up so good!” Annie cried.

“Tight…so tight,” Smoke ripped the front of Annie’s shirt and tugged the cups of her bra down, “Big tits…fuck…fuck I miss this body…big ass tits…gushy pussy…Annie…”

He attacked her breasts with so much gluttony. Amelia bucked her hips against her hand, the palm of her hand stroking her clit.

“E-Elijah…”

The quiver in Annie’s voice when she said his name before cumming all over his dick…

Amelia focused on the way his thick rod speared her pussy to no end. He kept the same stroke, mouth full of titty meat and his bulging biceps curled around her thighs.

Annie had to grip the edge of the table. Smoke was up in that thang HEAVY.

Amelia covered her mouth when the sudden wave of release washed over her.

“FUCK!”

Smoke slammed into Annie twice more before cumming deep inside of her.

He lowered her legs and Annie pulled him into a deep kiss with her hand around his neck. Amelia gently withdrew her fingers from her pussy and she fixed her dress before sneaking away to wash her hands off in the pond. Still having aftershocks from her orgasm, Amelia had to brace herself against the willow tree in front of the pond.

She crouched down and dipped her hands into the warm water. When she finished, she wrung her hands out before wiping them off on her apron. Amelia heard footsteps near the front of the shack. Peeking around the tree, she noticed Smoke puffing on his pipe. He was situated minus his suit jacket. Smoke circled around just as Amelia slipped from behind the tree.

He watched her closely as she avoided his attention, making her way towards the back of the shack.

“Amelia?”

Annie called for her.

Amelia found herself back inside. The air reeked of sex. Annie had changed into a new top. She lit an oil diffuser with a match. Immediately, the scent of lavender perfumed the room.

“Where’d you go?”

Annie smoothed down her hair and walked with a noticeable limp.

“I went down to the pond…wanted to give you two some privacy.”

Smoke returned, hanging his pipe on the hook near the door again. Amelia’s skin prickled with desire the moment Smoke entered. He adjusted his dick in his pants boldly. Amelia’s eye lids fluttered. He was still as hard as cast iron and almost as thick as her wrist.

“Amelia…you stayin’ wit us?”

Startled, Amelia spoke, “I am,” Amelia glanced over to Annie warily, “If that’s alright.”

“It’s more than alright,” Annie reassured her.

Amelia got the sense that Smoke wasn’t too keen on that.

“I’ll be back tonight. Gotta head into town to meet wit’ Stack…”

Who’s Stack?

“Where he stayin’?” Annie asked.

“Our old home. Fixin’ it up.”

Smoke slipped his cap back on. He walked up behind Annie and kissed her neck several times before slapping her on the ass. Amelia clenched up as if Smoke was spanking her.

“See ya’ later, baby. Amelia…”

Smoke tipped his hat at her as a goodbye.

“Bye for now,” Amelia bid Smoke farewell with a wave.

She had to get it together.

@eggnox @blackisy2k @thickeeparker @theereinawrites @angelin-dis-guise @thee-germanpeach @harleycativy @alexbabyyyy @readingaddict1290 @thedondada05 @blackamericanprincessy @aristasworld @avoidthings @brownsugarcoffy @ziayamikaelson @kindofaintrovert @raysogroovy @overhere94 @sug3rco0k1es @joysofmyworld @an-ever-evolving-wanderer @starcrossedxwriter @marley1773 @bombshellbre95 @nybearsworld @blossom3010 @kykylovesblog @desthefanfc @jeurden23janise @brincessbarbie @kholdkill @honggihwa @tianna-blanche @wewantsumheaad @goddessofthundathighs @nearsightedbaddie @charmedthoughts @beaboutthataction @mynameisnikkinik @girlsneedlovingfanfics @candelalanegra22 @mrsknowitallll @pinkprincessluminary @rissa21405 @chefjessypooh @sk1121-blog1 @contentfiend @kaystacks17 @bratzlele @massivewolfslimeturtle @kirayuki22 @bxrbie1 @blackerthings @intellectualassholee @angryflowerwitch @baddiegiii @mysteriouslycertaincherrybl-blog @syko-jpg @inkdrippeddreams @rolemodelshit

[unholyxthoughts]

I KNOW THATS RIGHT😭😭

[unholyxthoughts]

Re watching sinners. The way Smoke say “mmhm” when the lil girl told on terry has me weakkk

[unholyxthoughts]

Lowering the Twins’ age and making Annie your oc’s mom is so corny and foul.

Do not do that.

[unholyxthoughts]

First Time (Smoke x Annie

Summary: Annie smokes for the first time

Warnings: mentions of weed, smut

An: I don't smoke,so some things might not sound right. Didn't proof read ,so excuse the errors , or point them out so I can fix it. Enjoy!

Ib: @nahimjustfeelingit-writes

Smoke sat up in bed, rolling up some blunts ,as Annie laid beside him in thought.”I wanna try”,Annie says, snapping Smoke out of what he was doing . “Try what?”, Smoke says with confusion written on his face. Sitting up Annie points to the previous joints Smoke rolled. “You sure? This shit strong”, Smoke says, finishing rolling the last blunt. Annie looks at Smoke with a soft look in her eyes nodding . “Alright, come here”, Smoke says, moving stuff off his lap, motioning Annie over.

“Wait we gotta set the vibe first”, Annie says getting up ,changing the song in the background to “Didn't Cha Know by Erykah Badu”. Settling down in his lap , Annie starts to hum along to the song-rocking back and forth. Turning her attention back to Smoke ,seeing him bringing the lighter up to the blunt settled in between his lips. Settling the lighter down, closing his eyes, inhaling- opening his eyes , looking straight at Annie's exhaling. “You still wanna try it”,Smoke says, sitting his hand on Annie's thigh. Annie answers him with a nod, “Open yo mouth” taking another breath of his blunt ,he grabs Annie's neck bringing her forward.

Their lips almost touching, smoke blows out his mouth into hers. Catching on she inhales, exhaling the smoke in his face. Framing the smile that's settled on his lips. Letting going of her neck ,he holds the blunt up to her. “Go on, try it”, Smoke says with a nod of his head. Leaning forward Annie takes the blunt in her mouth- Smoke lets go of it letting her take it as she inhales. Smoke leans back watching as Annie grabs the blunt in between her fingers exhaling with her hand titled back.

Slowly bringing her head down- her eyes wandering over Elijah,” I think I like it”, She says with a grin on her face. So they sat there passing the blunt back and forth ,until they got to the third one and the tension got high. “Can't Take My Eyes Off of You by Lauryn Hill” starts to play in the background. High out of her mind Annie just stares at Eligh- admiring him.

Leaning forward she grabs his face in her hand while the other trails her thumb across his brows .

Trailing her hand down to his lips- thumb brushing over the top lip. Moving down, tapping the area near his bottom lip. Smoke, knowing what Annie is trying to tell him, untucks his bottom lip. Parting his lips- allowing her thumb to push forward. Closing his full lips around her thumb. Moving her other hand to the back of his durag covered head, slowly tilting his head back. Smoke taking it all, eyes rolled to the back of his head. Easing her thumb out his mouth ,she reaches over, picking the still lit blunt up,” I wanna try something”, Annie says, before bringing the blunt up to her lips.

Getting off his lap ,she hands the blunt back to Smoke, undressing herself. Lips parted , Elijah stared at Annie with lust in his eyes. Trailing his eyes down her body-doe eyes staring back at him. Bottom lip tucked between her teeth. Full- heavy breast,with a silver shine going through her nipples. Soft, round belly- thick thighs that any man would be willing to lay in between.

“So, you gonna keep staring or-”,Smoke not letting Annie finish- setting the blunt down. Pulling off his white tank top- gold chain laying idle on his chest. Feeling Annie moves towards him, he pauses his movements . Saying nothing - she dragged her hands from his shoulders, down his muscular arms. Trailing down his thick ,but muscular abdomen. Feeling his stomach quivering underneath her touch.” What you doing”, Smoke's voice shakes as Annie gets on her knees.

Without answering him ,she leans her face into the bulge of his gray sweatpants-breathing him in. Settling her hands on the band of his pants. Pulling them down inch by inch until his dick was exposed. Stepping out his pants-knees feeling weak. Moving back, sitting on the bed. Getting harder-tip leaking, as Annie crawls over to him.

Now settled in between his legs,once again. Hands gripping his thighs. Smoke leans back onto his hands. “You gonna keep staring or suck it”, Smoke says ,staring at Annie's doe eyes admiring his dick. The curve of it. The chocolate length with a pink tip. Thick veins trailing all around it. Lifting her hand-she wraps around him. Swiping her thumb across his tip. “Shit”, Smoke whispers under his breath ,as Annie leans her head down, swiping her tongue from the base of his dick to his head. Closing her warm mouth around him.She moans at the taste that sits on her tongue.

Lowering her mouth down until her nose hits his pelvic bone. Holding her mouth there until she couldn't. Not slick with her spit ,she twists her hands around him. Staring up at him, his eyes already looking at her. Low groans leaving his lips. Letting go of his dick ,she grabs her breasts fitting them around his tall dick. Smoke's eyes rolled to the back of his head;the feeling of her soft breasts against his hot leaking dick almost made him cum.

Moving her breasts up and down , she leans down, sticking her tongue in his slit. Humming at the taste of him. Still looking up at him she let's spit dribble from her mouth on to her breast and his dick. Repeating the motion until she hears and sees Smoke moaning loudly, falling back on to the bed. White liquid shooting out his tip-catching some of it in her mouth, the rest getting on her chest.

Leaning up on his arms the site in front of him almost makes him cum aging. With no patience left he reaches down, yanking Annie off the floor. “What are you doing?”Annie says, shocked by the sudden action. “I need to get inside you now”, Smoke says . Looking up at Annie with lust in his eyes. “Alright, but do something for me real quick”, Annie says; Smoke looking at her with confusion on his face. When Annie took her fingers, scooping some of his cum off her breast onto her fingers , putting her fingers up to his mouth-he got what she meant. Without hesitation he leaned forward taking her fingers into his mouth. Annie stepped further in between his legs- taking her fingers, using them to slowly guide him on his back.

Other hand lying on his chest. Easing her fingers out his mouth, she straddles him , and kisses him. Moaning at the taste of him. Grinding on his lap. Smoke's hands found her hips, moving her against him more. As she kissed him down his neck leaving marks he said “come on baby I wanna feel you now”, through moans. Lifting her head from his neck , she leans down planting a kiss on his lips.

Reaching her arm down ,she lifts up a bit, settling down on his dick. Both their moans fill the room as she finally reaches his base. Smoke's hands digging into her thick hips; trying to stop himself from cumming. Without warning Annie starts to rock back and forth. Hands planted on his chest , she starts to lift herself until she gets to his tip. Teasing Smoke and herself. “Please, baby don't tease me”, Smoke says through clenched teeth ,holding it together by a thread.

Slamming herself down onto him , they moan so loud, breaking sound barriers. Choked moans come from Smoke's mouth ,as Annie feels his warm cum filling her up. She continues bouncing up and down , fucking him through his orgasm . “Wait baby slow down”, Elijah says feeling overstimulated from what he just felt . Annie listens, slowly rocking herself on him. Smoke leans up taking one of her nipples into his mouth, while toying with the other one. He continued to do that , feeling Annie getting faster, feeling her clenching down on him. Knowing she was close to cumming he freed her breast; moving his hands down to her ass. Gripping her , taking control, making her go harder.

“Fuck!”, Annie moans loudly as her orgasm crashes over her. With no more energy she falls flat on Smoke's with soft breaths. Bringing his hands up, rubbing her back , trying to calm her down.”You think you got a little bit left in you”,Smoke says, finishing with a kiss to Annie's forehead . Annie raises her head looking at Smoke with a tired look in her eyes,”To do what”, she says.”To taste you-to taste us”,Smoke says, easing himself out of her . Annie now feels some of his cum seeping out of her hole.

Without another word Annie moves , setting herself against the head of the bed leaning back on the pillows. Leaning over grabbing a blunt ,and lighter. Lighting it , she inhales-blowing smoke in the air. Looking at Smoke with now hooded eyes she says ,” What you waiting for”, spreading her legs apart. Eagerly getting up moving in between Annie's thick thighs. Breathing her in , watching his cum mixed with her juices, leaking out of her. Leaning down dipping his tongue in her hole, moaning as the taste of them together hits his tongue.

Getting even close, gripping her thighs enough to leave a mark-he starts to fuck her with his tongue. Bringing his thumb down , circling Annie's clit.Annie looks down at Smoke blunt settled between her full lips, grinding against his face. Replacing his fingers with mouth , he wraps his lips around her clit, sucking her in. Which drags a loud moan out of Annie. Bringing two fingers to her hole, without warning he starts fucking her hard. Annie arches her back off the bed. Using his other hand, he pushes her back down, pushing down on her stomach. Feeling her tremble under his hand.

Feeling her tighten around his fingers, knowing she was close. His eyes looked up, breath caught in his throat at the image. Annie's head tilted back , one hand gripping her full breast, the other hand holding the lit blunt,smoke in the air framing her body in the best way. Skin glistening, Smoke wanted to taste her. Bringing his body forward he sucks a nipple into his mouth. Annie's hand lands on the back of his head. This pushes her over the edge. Smoke feels a wet liquid splashing against his lower half. Prompting a moan to fly out of Elijah's mouth, as he cums again.

They lay against each other in silence, nothing but light music playing in the background.

“I gotta get you high more”.

[unholyxthoughts]

i'm so tender on you - stack m. x fem!reader

summary: the smokestack twins left mississippi for bigger and better things, they were big fishes in a small pond, but that doesn't negate the sting you felt when stack, your boyfriend, left town without a uttering a word about it to you. not even call nor a letter to let you know he was safe in the big city of chicago. rumors on the streets about the twins return bubbled over - they were hosting a cookout and the whole neighborhood was invited - including you.

word count: 8k

warnings: smut, oral sex (f!receiving), unprotected sex, slight mentions of cheating, slight toxic dynamics, slight mentions of drugs, set in the 90s, light mary slander (lmaoo)

author's note: ahahaa i had a lot of fun writing this ya'll omg, this one is pretty long i just couldn't help myself!! thanks for reading ya'll much appreciated <3

──⭒─⭑─⭒────⭒─⭑─⭒──

The faint sounds of Saturday morning cartoons muffled within the background of your room; it was hot today - unbearably so, and it killed you that the AC in your bedroom was busted. Your grandpa said he'd get it fix, urging you not to waste your money on a new one. One thing about your grandad - he was a staunch penny pincher - always claiming he could fix something. Stating that your generation couldn't keep money in their pockets if their life depended on it. Always splurging on unnecessary 'foolishness'. But it seemed like every time he would tinker with your AC the worse it got.

You were gonna go out and buy one today, preparing for a long winded lecture - but you'd rather hear his complaints than sitting in a hot ass house. Your niece, who was only eight years old, sat on the floor at the foot of your bed. Her brown eyes watched the cartoon in front of her intensely, Tom and Jerry was her favorite - and the only cartoon you'd tolerate watching with her. You just got done doing her hair, the twist were held in place with pink Bobos with white and pink butterfly barrettes at end of the twist.

You were glad to be done with her hair - the girl was tender headed and it felt like you were entering a boxing match every time you attempted to comb and brush through her thick tresses. You hunched over on the bed, painting your toe nails with your favorite red nail polish from your local beauty supply and your head rested on the phone that was between your shoulder and ear - listening to your best friend, Pearline, on the other side of the phone.

She wanted you to go to a kickback with her; she was messing with Sammie aka Preacher Boy who lived around the block from you. She would gush about him saying that he was the sweetest man she'd ever been with - not to mention he had the best head - telling you stories about how good he would eat her out. You would spit out a: "Girl!" every time she would share a little too much, but you were happy for her - maybe a tad bit jealous too.

You didn't want Sammie - he was like a little brother to you; it was his older cousin that made your heart race. You and Stack had a thing in the past, the relationship was heavy, intense, and passionate. You genuinely thought that he could be the one, but out of the blue he left Mississippi - with his twin brother in tow - without uttering a word about it to you. And to makes matters worse the week that he up and ghosted you found out he was fucking another girl on the side.

Mary.

You were heart broken, blowing up his pager in hopes to get some sort of answers from him - but he ignored you like the plague. Which meant you two were done.

"Who all gone be there?" You asked Pearline, careful hands slowly painted your big toe with cherry nail polish.

"Everybody, that's why you should come - it'll be fun!" She replied, you could tell she was hiding something from you.

"Who is everybody?"

A pause lingered onto the conversation, which earned an eye roll from you.

Of course...He'd be there.

News spread like wild fire around the neighborhood about the twins coming back home; you couldn't avoid the whispers about them. You were cool with Smoke - even though he kept to himself and was hard to read, but you knew he was a genuine man that held good morals within his heart.

But Stack?

He was a trifling ass man who only looked out for himself - though you did admire his fierce loyalty he had for his brother and little cousin, Sammie. But you wished that his loyalty extended towards you.

"I'm not goin', sorry sis. You have fun, though." You said cutting through the tension between you and Pearline - which made her sigh in annoyance.

"You not even gonna see him, I doubt he'd be there."

"Isn't the party at Smoke's place? You think his twin brother ain't gonna be there? Please, Stack follows Smoke around like his damn shadow." You shot back in a matter of fact tone. She couldn't argue against you about it - you were right.

If you saw one twin, the other was close by.

"Please, please come with me! I know you're still raw about it--"

"You goddamn right I'm still raw. Pearline, he left me without giving me the courtesy of tellin' me and on top of that, after everything I did for his sorry ass, he went and fucked that bitch Mary!" You shouted, cutting your friend off in the middle of her sentence.

"Swear words." Your baby niece chimed in, ear hustling the conversation you had on the phone, she couldn't understand what you were talking about due to her age, but you gave her a light mean mug - not serious enough to hurt her feelings.

"You stay outta grown folks business, watch the show or Imma kick you out my room." You reprimanded which made the girl turn her attention back onto the cartoon. A chuckle hit your ear again, Pearline's light laughter made you playfully roll your eyes.

"Look, sis. I get it - I do. But I know you don't wanna be sittin' in that hot ass house sad all night. Come out with me! Enjoy some good food, music, 'allat stuff. Fuck him, don't let him ruin your mood," she then paused as and you could tell she was smiling from ear to ear. "And some fine ass men will be there - single. It's about time you broke that dry spell."

You thought about the words she said and you thought about the pros and cons of going to the party. The pros: free booze, free bud, good music, great food, seeing friends, and potentially getting flattered by some fine ass dudes.

Cons: Elias "Stack" Moore.

"If I come you better make sure you keep him away from me." You whispered out, closing the nail polish and placing it on your wooden end table, a high pitch static scream of excitement pierced your ear through the phone - a smile clinging to your face.

"Ah! Of course! I'll come over at three - I need you to fix my hair; this girl I went to fucked me up."

"I told you! You should've just waited for me to do it."

──⭒─⭑─⭒────⭒─⭑─⭒──

If it was hot inside - it was scorching outside. Sweat already formed on your body as you and Pearline walked side by side towards Smoke's home - the sound of music blast through the speakers and the smell of barbeque floated within the air made your mouth slightly water. You were ready to dance and eat. Tucking your braids behind your ear, you Pearline towards the backyard were the party resided. Opening the chain linked gate - her eyes lit up as she saw Sammie walking towards her.

"Hey, baby," He said, planting a tender kiss on her lips, holding her close towards his body. His brown irises then landed on you, giving you a warm smile. "Whatssup?" Sammie greeted you and you gave him a quick hello.

"I didn't think you was coming." Sammie chuckled out as his arm wrapped around Pearline's shoulders, lovingly leaning his weight slightly on her smaller frame.

"I wasn't - but your lil' girlfriend forced me." You jested back, which made Pearline dramatically gasp, her hand playfully slapping the warm skin on your arm.

"Sounds like her, c'mon, it's hot out here, I know you ladies could use a cold drink." Sammie tilted his head back towards the crowd that danced in the large backyard, signaling for you to follow him. The thumping of music reverberated through your body as you followed behind the couple, passing the speakers and towards the multiple coolers, 'hellos' rolling off of your lips as you briefly greeted familiar faces you saw around the neighborhood. Pearline was right - everyone was here.

"Water, beer, soda, or juice?" Sammie asked.

"Water, please." Pearline spoke as she rubbed Sammie's back, her giddy smile never fading.

"Ugh, ya'll don't got liquor?" You asked, trying your best to mask your slightly annoyed face - but Sammie could tell you weren't feeling the options he gave. With a chuckle, handing Pearline a water bottle he spoke: "We don't, technically. It's bring your own booze - but since we know you; ask Smoke, he got some stashed away, only for family."

"And I'm guessing that's the same for bud, too?" You asked with crossed arms, and Sammie nodded.

"Yea', but you're a girl, I doubt you have trouble findin' somebody who let you face a blunt or two." Sammie shrugged, which earned a jab to the side from Pearline, he quickly reassured he was only kidding.

But you knew there was some truth to within his joke. You're a pretty girl - and most of these men at the party were thirsty just to be in your presence.

"Well I ain't gonna hover over ya'll all night, I'm gonna find Smoke - I need a shot," you said but before you left you took one last gaze at Pearline, her brown eyes gazing back at you knowingly. "Make sure he don't come nowhere near me - let me know if you see him..."

"Mhm, don't worry about it." She replied.

Pushing through the crowd your eyes scanned multiple faces, trying to find the older twin within all the commotion. Couples grind against each other, oldheads getting drunk off of beers, and multiple friend groups huddled up. Some playing cards while others shared neighborhood gossip. The backyard was packed and you were thankful that there were trees around, creating multiple shady spots to cool off when needed. Noticing a familiar face leaning against a tree you slyly walked over towards him, a soft smile clinging onto your plump lips.

"Ah! If it isn't lil' big brother!" You shouted slightly over the blaring music, making Smoke snap his head towards you. Chewing on a toothpick that rested in his mouth he dipped his head towards you in respect. Smoke looked so different than the last time you saw him, he was taller and he had a stronger built. Smoke was never a scrawny man - but you could tell that he's been in the gym as his thick biceps flex with each movements of his arms.

"Whatssup," Smoke said as a sliver of a smile danced on his lips. He gave you a side hug, squeezing your shoulder slightly before letting go of you. "How you been?"

"Been better, hangin' in there, you know how it is. But whatssup with you? The big city got too small for ya'll?" You asked, you were nosy and you were unsuccessfully dry begging some information on Stack - and it seemed like Smoke could tell your intentions. Yes, you didn't want to be around Stack - and yes, you despise that man. But you also still have some love for him, even if it pained you to admit that. He held you down through some of your darkest hours; during those days were you didn't have the strength to get out of bed. Sticking to guy code and loyalty to his little brother, Smoke wouldn't spill anything to you and he shrugged his shoulders.

"Somethin' like that." He muttered as his brown eyes flicked towards the crowd quickly, making sure that people wouldn't get too rowdy in his backyard.

"Mhm, still tightlipped as ever," you sighed, resting your hands on your hips. "Sammie told me to talk to you about getting some liquor - ya'll got tequila?"

"Light or dark?"

"Dark - you already know I don't drink that light shit." You answered. Smoke tilted his head towards his home, pulling the toothpick out of his mouth as he muttered - he didn't want the party patrons getting the idea of raiding his liquor cabinet. Or worse; pestering him to spare a bottle or two.

"Inside, pass the kitchen, turn on your left. Should see a cabinet with what you lookin for." Smoke quickly replied, his deep southern accent cutting through the loud bass of the music playing.

"Thanks, Smoke."

"Don't let nobody know where you got it from and keep them outta my house. Bad enough these folks trashin' my backyard."

You gave Smoke a wide and toothy smile - some of your teeth were covered in gold caps, they weren't permanents like Smoke's or Stack's - but you would always wear them when 'special' occasions happened. And besides Stack gifted them to you on your birthday; one of the gems that adorned your gold teeth was your birthstone.

Weaving through the dancing crowd your shoulders brushing against distant relatives and strangers you would see around the neighborhood. The sweet barbeque smoke curled into the thick summer air - the smell of cooked meat, spices, and vegetables cutting through the scent of sweat, weed smoke, and spilled beer. Passing through a group that huddled around a small folding table the sound of glass bottles clinking against each other and cheers made you smile.

Today was a good day, you loved being around such good vibrations.

Stepping up onto the cracked slab of the concrete patio, your hands yanked open the sticky glass sliding door that separated the backyard chaos and the calm empty house. The air inside of the home was cooler - quieter, and the shadows from the sun setting crept across the wooden floors. With a grunt you slide the door closed and the muffling bass of the music was still heard through the thick walls. Smoke's home smelled like strong incense, lemon scented cleaner, sage, and fresh linen.

Annie had definitely been here prior.

Moving with purpose now, the sound of your sneakers squeaking against the wooden floor revibrated through you and your eyes scanned for the liquor cabinet - following the directions Smoke gave you. Turning the corner your irises were met with a large brown cabinet that was filled to the brim with all sorts of spirits and drinks. Making a brisk track towards it your hand ghosted over the handle, pulling open the glass door and reaching in to grab the bottle of tequila. Reposado - your favorite.

The bottle was full and the glass was slightly cold under your warm hands, with a sigh of victory you turned on your heel to make your way back outside. But then you paused. Standing in the small hallway of the home your eyes lingered on the golden sunrays that pooled onto the floor, the front door of the home was open, only the thin mesh of the screen door was holding back the bugs and summer air from entering. You knew Smoke wouldn't be the type to just let his front door wide open - even if him and half of the men in this party weren't lacking any 'peacekeepers', you're sure it would bother him if someone he didn't know would stumble into his home causing trouble.

Walking towards the open door in an attempt to close it shut, your legs turned into jelly and your heart raced as if you just got done running a marathon. Across the small stretch of dead grass on the front lawn and cracked pavement on the side walk, your irises lingered onto him.

Stack.

He sat lazily in the diver seat of the light brown lowrider, it's rims obnoxiously gaudy, they were gold and it seemed like wheels could barely fit the body of the car. The engine was off but he sat with the car door wide open, surrounded by some guys you met in passing through the neighborhood - his friends. Laughing too loud their words exchanged between each other were sharp and quick witted, yet long and casual like summer itself.

Stack was shining in gold like always, but now you've noticed he adorned more accessories than the last time you saw him. Multiple golden chains rested around his neck, gold glistening from the sunlight as he adjusted his watch that wrapped around his wrist, and the bright red color gem stones shined within the rings that he wore.

Smoke wore some jewelry too. Three chains - one of them was a Jesus piece - a watch and golden teeth just on the side of his mouth. His jewelry wasn't extravagant but anyone with a good eye could tell it was expensive. But Stack? He looked as if he was a pharaoh - the he himself was made out of gold.

A red tee balled up in Stack's lap, revealing his strong biceps and arms, the white tank top clung onto his skin and the soft cotton only accentuated his muscles even more. You remember those long winter nights of running your hands over his hard chest, feeling each and ever dip and valley of the muscles on his body. How your lips would kiss his abs, trailing down lower and lower...

He looked good.

All you could do was just watch and stare, the tequila bottle hanging loosely in your hands, dangerously close to dropping the glass bottle. Your reservations about seeing him melted away, you wanted to open the door and call out his name - to see if he still felt the same way about you. But then the memories of him ghosting you, ignoring any and all attempts of you reaching out to him; and the fact that he had another girl on the side made the butterflies in your stomach turn sickening.

With a bitter chuckle to yourself, you turned on your heel and made your way back towards the party.

This night will interesting to say the least.

──⭒─⭑─⭒────⭒─⭑─⭒──

A few hours passed and the sky melted into a deep burnt orange color as the sun dipped behind the multiple rooftops, disappearing from the sky in due time. The orange and scorching glow washed over the multiple brown bodies that danced on the makeshift dancefloor, red plastic cups and sweat-slicked skin shined brightly within the summer afternoon.

The party didn't slow though - it only grew louder, brighter, more alive as more people showed up. You were feeling good - no, you were feeling great. The multiple shots of tequila you shared with Pearline pushed away all the negative emotions you felt hours prior, not to mention the sun that nipped at your skin made you a little bit sun-drunk. The burn of the liquor grounded you - and you were laughing again - joking with Pearline as you both swatting away dudes who couldn't get the hint that ya'll weren't interested.

You told Pearline that you saw Stack earlier and she asked if you wanted to leave - she reassured that she'd leave with you without complaints - but you told her it was fine, as long as Stack kept his distance you'd gladly stay.

"He's not gonna mess with you, sis. I got you" Pearline whispered in your ear with a supportive smile dancing on her lips. You nodded your head as you reached for the juice - using it as a chaser to kill the bite from the tequila shots. Both of you sat side by side on cheap plastic chairs, your knees touching against hers. Sammie who was once standing besides Pearline now stood in front of the patio, he was DJing now and your eyes would flick between Pearline and Sammie as she shouted cheers.

They were cute together, like lovesick school kids.

Sammie was in the zone, his head nodding with the thunderous beat and skillful fingers glide across the board, and the bass from the chopped and screwed beat rippled through the joyous crowd. Your smile widen now, showing of the golden grills that adorn your teeth, and your body relaxed into the rhythm and for a moment you almost forgot about Stack.

Almost.

Your eyes noticed the backdoor sliding open and there he was in all of his glory.

Stack.

He was wearing that same balled up red Nike shirt from earlier, shielding the white cotton tank, but you could see the soft fabric peaking through the collar and under the chains around his neck. He moved with purpose as he stepped down the concrete slab; making his way towards the party. That same easy going smile that you use to worship danced across his handsome face, gold teeth catching the light of the ember sunset. He dapped up Sammie, whispering something in the younger cousin's ear, which made him shake his head with a small laughter escaping his lips. And his focus was placed on the DJ board again.

Stack dapped up the people who were brave enough to say hello, he was like a magnet that pulled people's attention towards him without even trying. And even though the sun heat rays beat down on you - an oppressive chill ran cold through your body as he went deeper into the party - towards you.

The tequila and juice twisted within your stomach and your breathing became rapid - you weren't the type of get sick off of liquor - you can handle your drink. But seeing Stack, the heat, and the unfortunate decision of taking a few shots without eating first made you dizzy. Pearline noticed your once mellow mood turning sour and without a word she placed a calming touch on your thigh. Your eyes met with hers briefly and she whispered affirmations in your ear - telling you to take a deep breath and that you both could leave now.

You told her it was okay between long breathes, but your jaw was clenched tight and your hands gripped onto the plastic arm rest of the chair, your leg bouncing with rapid successions. Her hand didn't leave your skin as she handed you a cold bottle of water - and you chugged the bottle as if you've haven't drank anything in days.

Brown familiar irises flicked towards you and your eyes widen like saucers, as if you saw a ghost. Stack noticed you; of course he did. He could pick you out any crowd like it was nothing - like it was second nature to him. His smile curled up in a mischievous grin, but that smile wasn't full of an apology nor regret of hurting you so bad - but instead his golden grin was laced with nothing but cockiness that use to send butterflies to your core, making your heart race with desire and need.

It still did.

With a tilt of his head, Stack signaled you to come over to him, as if nothing problematic happened between the two of you - as if he never left you high and dry. You didn't move, you barely even flinched and you broke eye contact with him, your gaze lingering on the card game that was happening behind you. Slim was chattering away about how folks just don't know how to play the game. The biting warmth of the tequila was now replaced with a cold sting in your heart, you hope that Stack would cut his losses and leave you alone.

But that wasn't him, he never gave up.

Leaning off of the wooden fence he casual shuffled through the dancing crowd, people stepped out of his way without him even uttering a single word while his eyes were still trained on you. He reached you and Pearline within seconds.

She stood up from the chair, her hands resting on her hips as she spoke: "Uh, uh. Not tonight, boy."

But Stack was barely moved by her warning as his smirk only grew. Raising his hands up in a playful display of innocence his dark eyes flicked between you and Pearline who shielded you from his sultry gaze.

"Relax," Stack casually said as he placed his hands to sides, his head lulling back to see your expressions at hearing his voice. "I ain't here to start no drama. This a party, I just wanted to know if ya'll enjoyin' it, that's all."

But he was only met with silence from you and Pearline. You were still sitting in the plastic chair, your arms crossed over your chest as Stack's intense gaze never left your body. You wore a baby blue color tube top with dark acid washed shorts that stopped just above the curve of your ass, and your white Nike cortez with blue accents kicked at the small patch of dirt.

Your eyes refuse to even look at him.

"Damn, baby. You still mad at me?" Stack chuckled out with a knowing glint in his eyes - he was loving the tension between the two of you, even as toxic as it sounded - he liked when you were pissed off, it made him feel wanted and desired. It also didn't hurt that the make up sex would be more tender the angrier he made you.

You replied with a short irritated grunt and leered at him, giving off the vibe of 'don't test me', and your body stayed stock still in the chair. A small laugh escaped Stack's plump lips, he knew he was getting under your skin - and he soaked up each and every annoyed sigh you sent his way.

Stack's intense gaze pulled away from you and landed on Slim who slammed down a playing card on the plastic table. The older man was complaining about the new age music that was popular today.

"Slim, whatssup with you, unc?" Stack called out, which made Slim's face lit up. They both dapped each other up as the older man reclaimed his seat.

"Nothin' much, just tellin' these cats about some real music. None of that 'bitches and hoes' nonsense ya'll be listing to," Slim then took a sip from his flask, his face twisting at the bitter taste of liquor hitting his lips. "What happen to lovin' a woman, cherishin' her - takin' her out and bein' tender on her. Nowadays I wonder if ya'll actually love these queens."

"Look man; I ain't got love for these hoes, the only thing I love is pussy and money - ain't nobody tryna hear all that mushy shit tonight." Stack laughed, which earn a roar of chuckles from the men that were playing cards with Slim - some of them even dapped up Stack at his statement. Slim shook his head and waved his hand towards Stack, as if shooing him away.

But his harsh words stung at your heart and the burning sensations of tears nipped at your eyes, Pearline noticed this but before she could comfort you - you pushed yourself out of the chair, the legs of it scrapped against the concrete, silencing the laughter between the men. You raced towards the crowd as you made your way to Smoke's house. Multiple eyes followed you pushing through the dancefloor. Pearline glared at Stack and something within the man tinged with remorse.

He finally realized that you were hurt and that this wasn't a game anymore.

──⭒─⭑─⭒────⭒─⭑─⭒──

The house was empty and the tequila in your veins burned with heartbreak and rage. Your legs rushed down the hallway and with hasty movements you flung open the bathroom door, slamming it loudly behind you. Cold tile met the burning skin of your back as your hands shielded your face, your breath hitching within your throat until it finally snapped like a rubber band.

Tears spilled freely from your eyes, slipping pass the cracks between your fingers as your body shook with each wail. With trembling lips your mind raced. You thought that you could handle it, that seeing him wouldn't wound you. But hearing Stack talk as if nothing mattered, as if he wasn't even affected by your presence made you feel hollow inside. He didn't just leave - he thrown you away. And that shit cuts deep, it felt like a knife hit your gut from his casual actions towards you.

A knock cut through your cries as your head throb with an ache, inhaling the sharp cold bathroom air your fingers wiped away the smeared makeup on your face due to the tears.

"Yea', you can come in." You whispered out, you assumed that Pearline was on the other side of the door - it made sense because only close friends of the twins were allowed to enter the vacant house. The sound of the door creaking open sent a wave of embarrassment through you.

But it wasn't Pearline your eyes were meet with.

It was Stack.

Stepping inside of the small bathroom he quietly closed the door behind him. His expression was different from the charming smile he wore prior to making you cry, all the jokes and cocky aura melted away like ice under the heat of the Mississippi sun. Guilt tugged Stack's face as he looked over your tear stained cheeks, your mascara running and your cherry red lipgloss slightly smeared from your hands pressing closely to your face.

"I-I didn't know you were cryin'." Stack muttered softly, his body leaning on the door and his brown eyes refusing to leave your shaking form. You didn't reply to him and you bit your lip, the gold teeth in your mouth slightly jabbing against the plump skin on your bottom lip. Glaring at Stack through glossy eyes you shook your head - you were growing tired of his antics.

"Hey, I didn't come in here to hurt you I just--"

"But you did hurt me, Stack! You did!" You shouted, cutting him off from his rambling. Your arms were crossed around yourself in an attempt to self soothe the anxiety that was threatening to spill over. Silence fell over the two of you and his eyes soften at your words.

"You left me like I wasn't shit. No goodbyes, not even a fuckin' breakup call! A-And then I find out you cheated on me with some bitch who lives in the suburbs," you shook your head as a pained smile danced across your lips, and with teary eyes you continued. "And now you show up and act like nothin' happened between us - you're such a joke, Stack."

Stack looked down as his hands rested in the pockets of his pants, guilt crashing into him like waves in a tsunami. He felt like shit hearing those words escape from your mouth - but those words were the truth - the bitter truth. He wasn't a good boyfriend to you; yes he took care of you, he praised you, and he adored you - but good to you? That wasn't the case. He treated you like a random fling even though the feelings he felt about you were so much more intense.

"I'm a coward," Stack mumbled. "I-I just didn't know how to be with you and still become the man I wanted to be."

"Oh, boo-hoo! You ain't even try!" You snapped as your voice cracked with each word you cried out, you hated how hurt you sounded and how raw you felt. Stack didn't flinch at your words and with a roll of his shoulders he spoke again, his southern accent curling around your ears like music.

"I was scared, I thought if I left without tellin', you'd realize that I'm no good - that you'll move on to someone better," he stepped closer towards you and the feeling of his shirt lightly grazing the exposed skin of your crossed arms. "But when I came back in town; I asked about you, and I was happy to know that you were still here - that maybe I could start over and fix this shit."

The air between you two were thicker now, more intense, and you couldn't take your eyes off of Stack.

You didn't want to.

"I never stopped thinkin' about you," he whispered low. "Even when I tried to, you were always on my mind when I left, I damn near felt lost without you."

"Then why you actin' like I never meant anything to you?"

Stack's lips twitched and his expression looked like he was scanning his scattered thoughts, as if trying to find the right words to say. His large and calloused hand reached out slowly, hovering over your arms, unsure if he could touch you without you swatting his hand away.

"Because if I admit to myself just how much you mean to me; then I woulda had to realize that I ruined the best thing that ever happened to me too..."

A tight lump formed in your throat at his words, you wanted to scream in his face, to push him out the bathroom and tell him to leave you alone - forever.

But you didn't.

You just stared at him as your chest heaved with shallow breaths. You hated him, you loved him, you missed him, and you never wanted to see him again. Your hands moved as if they had a mind of their own and you rested them on his broad shoulders, the feeling of the soft fabric under your fingers sent shockwaves and aching desire towards your core. Stack was the man that ruined you - but he was also the same one who built you up when no one would have.

Stack shuttered out a sigh of relief under your touch, as if feeling your hand press against his tense muscles was all he needed. His strong arms wrapped around your waist tightly, pulling your frame towards his, and his forehead rested on your bare shoulder. The party that was just outside of the door was muffled by the heavy breathing that escaped both of your lungs.

Leaving his head from the crook of your neck - both of your eyes clashed with each other - neither one of you breaking the intense gaze. And with a passing second your lips met his, the kiss was soft as if your bodies were trying to get reacquainted with each other, and his strong hands raced over your backside - clinging onto you as if you'd disappear from his touch.

The once soft kiss grew deeper - more hungry. And your fingers interlocked behind his head, the cold feeling of the multiple chains he wore grazed your knuckles. Tears still clung onto your long lashes as Stack cupped your face in his hand, both of your tongues fighting and dancing against each other. The taste of weed and alcohol filled your mouth as his bit your lip, begging you if he could go further pass just kissing.

You knew that you shouldn't do this; he hadn't earn to touch you like this again, he hadn't fix the broken heart that he shattered brutally, and he hadn't changed enough to re-enter your life as if he never left. But your heart, so tender and pure, still remembered those nights were he held you close. Making love to you and touching you places where only he knew that made you shiver in ecstasy.

"This doesn't mean I forgive you, Stack."

"I know, baby. But lemme show you how much I missed you."

──⭒─⭑─⭒────⭒─⭑─⭒──

You and Stack slipped through the dark and quiet home like ghosts, his strong hands held your waist flush against his body as he guided you through the dark hallways of his older brother's house. The wooden floorboards creaked and groan beneath your feet with each step you both took. Stack's lips brushed the soft skin of your shoulder, placing tender kisses up your neck - just stopping below your ear.

You could feel his growing bulge pressing against your ass as his steady and firm hands grasp at your waist, a shiver of delight rushed through your body as memories of him fucking you made the ache between your thighs grow in anticipation. You grinded your self onto Stack which only made him quicken the pace through the house.

Your pulsed quicken under his open mouth and you could feel him smiling against your skin, cutting through the neat living room, you and Stack reached the guest bedroom. With careful hands he slowly turned the knob and his head lulling back to make sure no one saw the two of you sneaking inside of the bedroom. When the coast was clear - you both shuffled into the room. His arm still wrapped around your waist and quiet click was heard, he locked the door making sure no one would interrupt the two of you.

The once burnt orange of the evening sunset had faded away; now the blue shadows of nighttime crept into the dark room, the silver moonlight pooling across the empty bed and you turned on your heel, crashing your lips against his and his hands squeezing your ass. You gasp at the feeling of his ring slightly scraping against the skin of your ass, which made him deepen the kiss again. Your hands tightly gripped his shirt within your fist, pulling him closer until the back of your knees hit the edge of the bed.

Stack adjusted his body weight as he hovered over you, making sure that he wouldn't crush you underneath him, and the sound of his jewelry clinking against each other made your head spin. You bit his lip as he pulled away from the kiss, which earned a low hiss from him. You smiled lazily as his knowing hands traced over the hem of your shorts, his fingers tracing small shapes over the denim pockets until they landed on the button.

You began to kick your shoes off as Stack unbutton your shorts, your lip tugged between your teeth as you watched his movements. The sound of the zipper becoming undone made a wave of arousal clung at your already soaking pussy and your hips slightly bucked forward as Stack slowly pulled your shorts off, leaning on your forearms you raised your hips - helping him slip off the denim on your body.

All you wore now was your tube top, cotton panties with a small bow at the waistband, and white cotton socks. He reached for your shirt but you swatted his hands away from the thin fabric.

"If I take a piece of clothing off it's only fair that you do too." You whispered, showing off the golden grills that Stack gifted you years ago. Seeing your already beautiful smile made his heart flutter - but the sight of you with golden capped teeth made his already stiffening member grow even harder - the man was straining against his pants.

With nimble fingers Stack pulled off his shirt along with the tight beater that clung onto his hard muscles, he was shirtless now and his multiple chains glistened under the moonlight - the diamonds danced against his brown skin and it looked as if he himself was glowing. Laying on his back you straddled him and your hands steered his towards your top, his chestnut colored irises lit up when he felt your breast through your shirt.

"When you get your titties pierced?" He asked as he pinched the sensitive buds on your chest, making you grind your soaking core against his jeans, you could feel his dick twitch within his pants as you continue to rock your hips.

"A couple of weeks after you left; I wanted somethin' different."

"Fuck, baby. Lemme see 'em." Stack requested as both of your hands slipped off the blue top over your head. A small giggle escaped your lips at the sight of his face; his mouth went slack and his eyes were glued to your half nude body. His calloused hands raced across your skin and the sound of him kicking off his sneakers made you look back and with strong arms he pulled himself towards the headboard of the bed with you still sitting on his lap.

Once situated his hands cupped your breast and his thumbs slowly rolled over the pierced buds, slightly pressing down on the silver jewelry that adorn your chest, a shiver ran up your spine as you moaned out his name. You nipples were already sensitive, but after getting them pierced that sensitivity doubled, and you were practically shaking within Stack's arms.

With one hand he pinched your nipple, the sharp yet pleasurable sensation zapped through your body and straight to your aching pussy, his free hand held onto your hip as he lowered his head and latched his mouth onto your breast. His cheeks hollowed as he sucked your nipple, his teeth slightly pulling at the jewelry. Your nails dug into his strong shoulders as you threw your head back, encouraging words fell from your lips as you begged him to keep going and how good you were already feeling.

Stack hummed against your chest and your hand lovely stroked his hair carefully as to not mess up his waves. His tongue swirled your nipple as he helped you grind yourself on his hard dick, he still had his pants on as his hips bucked into you. With a wet pop, he release your breast from his mouth, biting his lip when your eyes connected again.

"You're too damn sexy, baby. I need to taste her. It's been too long and I know she misses me..." Stack whispered against your chest. He would always refer to your pussy as 'she' or 'her' when he got in this mood.

And you loved it.

"Feel how much she missed you, baby." You said into his open mouth as your hand guided his towards your wet sex, you still wore your panties but that didn't stop Stack from rubbing small circles on your clothed clit while his ring finger pressed against your entrance through the thin fabric. You humped against his hand which made a chuckle fall from his hips, his eyes trained on the movements of your hips against hand.

"Take these off, they gettin' in the way." He stated, which you gladly did, listening to his demand without a second thought. Leaning on his back against the soft blanket of the bed your breast pressed firmly onto his hard and well trained muscles on his chest. Your hips rising off of his body as you slide your panties off, kicking the soaked fabric off of your legs.

With a quick peck on the lips, Stack guided you to climb higher, your exposed pussy now in view as your hands rested on the headboard. Stack rested his head on the many pillows within the bed and his warm breath against your thigh made you tremble in anticipation. Lowering your hips with his hands, you were now sitting on his face, and his tongue flatten against your clit. Rolling your hips you began to ride his face, his tongue lazily yet full of expertise swiped across your aching entrance.

The tip of his tongue circled your clit and the rough feeling of his grills rubbing against the sensitive bud as he raced his tongue across your sex made you shiver. Stack's strong hands held onto your hips as he guided them against the movements of his tongue, with a vice grip you held onto the wooden headboard, and your eyes gazed down at the man. His brown eyes looked up at you, soaking up all of the curves on your body and the sweet taste of your pussy that danced on his tongue made him roll his eyes back in pleasure.

"Ugh, fuck!" You groaned out as your hips bucked against his face. Stack's lips wrapped around your clit, sucking on the sensitive bud and the overbearing sensation made you lean forward; resting your cheek on the headboard. You chanted out Stack's name - his actual name - as if it was a holy hymn. Hearing his name roll sweetly off of your tongue made Stack's head spin, and with strong arms he held onto your waist, leaning himself over.

You let out a small yelp in surprise as your once steady grip on the headboard disappeared - now replaced with soft bedsheets. Your body weight rested on your shoulders and your legs were up in the air, Stack's arms were wrapped around your torso, pulling you close to his muscular chest. Working over your core Stack slowly slipped his middle finger inside you and the feeling of his rings grazing your clit earned a giggle of pleasure from you.

With precise movements Stack moved his hand, pressing his finger in and out of your pussy as his lips kissed your inner thigh, and the feeling of his mustache tickled at your skin. Your hands rested on the bedsheets, gripping the fabric within your fist. Stack added another finger in, the wet sounds of your pussy echoed through the room, and the slick sounds only made him speed up his movements.

Stack's fingers were now fully inside of you, his ring and middle finger filling you up as they skillfully worked over your core. High pitched moans fell from your lips as your feet fluttered from the pleasure, and the familiar intense feeling swarmed towards your core. Stack pulled his mouth away from your pussy as his fingers began fucking into you. He whispered promises to you that you know he'd never keep, but in this moment you believed every word he spoke - lapping up those lies as if they were dipped in honey.

Within an instant a wave of euphoria crashed into you and a loud cry of pleasure escaped your lungs. Your body trembled within his vice grip, trying it's best to regulate itself from experiencing coming so hard on his thick fingers.

"Mhm, just like that, baby." Stack praised with a cocky smile plastered on his handsome face, his fingers continued to thrust into your sensitive core, which earned a cry from overstimulation from you. Your hands clung onto his forearms in an attempt to slow the pace of his fingers, taking the hint he slowly pulled them out of you, and with a playful slap against your pussy - he released you from his tight grasp - your body laying limp on the bed as he stood up.

Catching your breath your eyes danced over Stack's toned body, his hands unbuckling his belt, slipping off his jeans and boxers in one swift movement freeing himself. Stack was big, and each time he would fuck you after a fight, you'd walk with a limp the next day. His thick and heavy member twitched with anticipation of fucking you again after all these years. Stack's mind would wonder towards your body when he would touch himself or decided to fuck some random woman he would entertain during those grueling years in Chicago.

But his hands weren't yours and those women weren't you.

Pumping himself with his hand Stack flipped you over onto your stomach, pulling you close to him so your lower half dangled off the edge of the bed. You looked over your shoulder as you watched Stack's face twist with pleasure as he slowly entered you.

"Fuck..." He groaned out as his hands held onto your hips. The feeling of your pussy squeezing around him almost made him come right then and there, he was convinced that you both were made for each other - you were the only woman who could have that kind of effect on his body by just entering. Pushing himself all the way in, he paused his hips, savoring the feeling of you, and also helping you adjust yourself to him. You were so tight and so wet, he could stay in your pussy for hours if you let him.

"C'mon, Elias..." You begged as you began rocking your hips, urging the man to fuck you, which he gladly did. High pitched grunts fell from your lips with each thrust he made and the arch in your back became to much to support by yourself, his strong arms pushed you flush against the bed while holding your waist to keep your back arched against his powerful thrust of his hips. Your legs turned into jelly as they shook underneath you and your feet barely touched the ground - you were practically standing on the tips of your toes.

"Keep fucking me, keep fucking me!" You begged out between moans, Stack was rendered to only grunts and groans, but that didn't stop him from replying to you - in his own way of course. With a swift smack he landed a sharp slap against the plush skin of your ass, making you hiss out in a mixture of pleasure and pain. He continued fucking into you, smacking your ass, and holding your waist in a vice grip.

You sure you'll have bruises later.

Leaning upwards you turned your head with your mouth open, signaling to him that you wanted a kiss. Stack's needy lips crashed into yours as your tongue danced across his, you could taste how sweet you truly were on his lips and mustache. Your golden grills bumped into his in the passionate make-out session and his heavy body was leaning flush against your sweaty back. His chest heaved shallow breaths as his hips sporadically bucked into you - feeling his hard cock inside of you twitch you knew he was close.

And so you were.

Pulling away from the sloppy kiss, the string of saliva that connected between both of your bottom lips snapped, and Stack rested his head onto your shoulder. The same familiar feeling of overbearing pleasure that needed to be alleviated came back within your abdomen, and with a loud cry you came on Stack's dick. Your eyes rolled back as your fist gripped the bedsheets below you.

"Damn, baby. W-Where you want it?"

"Inside me, baby."

And without missing a beat Stack came too, a guttural groan reverberated through his body and crashed into you. The feeling of his hard jewelry pressing into your back grounded you as you catch your breathe, and the warm feeling of his come filling you up made you smile in relief. You both paused your movements and Stack was still inside of you, rolling his shoulders he slowly pulled out of you - which made you groan from the sensation. You rested your sore body onto the bed and your cheek rested on a soft pillow. Stack smiled as he playfully patted your ass.

"Good shit, baby." He smiled which made you roll your eyes, turning your head to look away from him, trying your best to kind the lopsided smile that clung onto your lips.

"You're so annoy--" but before you could finish your statement a sharp knock was heard on the door, the handle violently jiggling between each knock.

"Stack? I know ya'll ain't in there doin' what I think ya'll doin'!" The voice of Smoke shouted behind the lock door. Stack spat out a 'shit' and quickly sat up from the bed, putting on his boxers as he wiped his face with the back of his hand that was covered in your juices. You sat up and your eyes widen in alarm as you reached for your clothes, but Stacked waved at you to stop your movements.

Unlocking the door Stack's body stood in front of the small crack, hiding your naked form. Hushed whispers were shared between the twins and you assumed that Stack was getting cursed out by his older brother and with a sharp: "Clean that fuckin' room before ya'll leave." Smoke slipped away from the door, which made Stack shout back in his usual playful tone.

"I was already gon' do that!" And he closed the door behind him, sucking his teeth as he threw himself onto the bed next to you, making you bounce a bit from his added weight on the mattress. Brown eyes stared into each other as silence now fell over the two of you. Leaning in to close the space between each other Stack ran his fingers through your hair, tucking the braid behind your ear, and the sound of his chains clinking against each other made you ease under his touch.

"I'm so tender on you, girl...I promise I'll do right by you; just give me another chance." Stack whispered, his eyes training on your features as you bit your lip. You were terrified of being hurt by him again, but you were also scared living the rest of your days without feeling his touch too. Reaching for his shoulder you pulled him closer towards you - your lips ghosting over his and you finally gave him your answer.

"Okay, but don't mess this up..."

[unholyxthoughts]

thinking about sloppy kisses with stack ... 18+ ...modern era! au...lowercase intended

luvrs note: this is my first time writing something for sinners... feedback is appreciated <3

long days were often the norm when it came to managing your studies and work. some nights you'd be home later than usual, visibly groggy from studying for hours on end. cherry red nails clutching onto the handle of your tote that held the many books and notepads used throughout the day.

the best part about it though, was seeing him.

elias 'stack' moore.

he was a little older, though not by much. meeting him in your apartment's foyer had been an odd interaction a few months back - perhaps because of his quick replies, the unmistakable charm he oozed had you standing and chatting with him for hours instead of finalizing a paper.

what really drew you in was his eyes. dark, yet luminiscent at the same time. as if they had a slight twinkle in them. since that first meeting, he often stopped by your apartment to 'catch up'.

what initially started as conversations until dawn had soon ensued into stolen glances, heavy breathing while being wrapped up in his arms, and kisses so good, your brain went numb.

tonight ws no different. once you unlock your door and settle in to change, it isn't long before the usual rap of knuckles breaks the silence.

"i know you in there, baby. c'mon and open this door up."

his voice left you warm, and upon fixing the red babydoll you'd opted to wear, you slipped into fuzzy slippers and made a beeline for the door.

there he stood, clad in dark black slacks and a red short sleeved sweater, veins practically bulging out of his bicep. in his ringed hand, a box from the bakery you liked. upon opening the door wide enough, he stepped in, and placed the treats on your counter.

"c'mere..."

and he did, following your quick strides until he beat you to it, pinning your curvy little frame up against the counter. he couldn’t help but be enticed by the way you looked — in all fairness, you always looked good.

it was something about you in a lace red babydoll though, that made him ravenous. his hands squeezed your waist, slipping lower to grip the fat of your ass, bringing you even closer to him. your scent, the sweetest jasmine paired with dark orchid, did a number on him.

“you brought me somethin’? thought i needed a little something after a long day, huh?” the purr from your glossy pout caused him to smirk, the golds you’d grown so accustomed to seeing twinkling in response.

“you texted me sayin you was cravin’ sweets… you think i forgot to get my pretty girl something from the bakery, huh?”

you grinned at that, arms wrapping around his neck as he swayed you, nose fully brushed up against yours.

when he kissed you, it felt like you’d been set alight. a burn so deep, it broke you in half. he always took his time, but he was especially slow tonight. with an insistent tug, he was flush against you, one palm wrapping around your neck — not tight, but enough for you to let him lead.

“you look so pretty tonight, mama. so, so, pretty.” he cooed, punctuating the praises with a sharp suck to your bottom lip, earning a soft whine from your lips. he kissed you deep, fingers threading in your dark tresses, pulling back just enough to take a good look at you.

eyes shiny and dilated, lips wet with smudged gloss and a baited breath; he had you wrapped around his finger.

“gimme that tongue, baby.” he’d practically growl, the cadence of his baritone nearly making you pliant to his request. but he knew you’d play coy — tease him, make him beg.

“take this off first, elias.”

your voice, although airy, was assertive. and he complied, tugging up and over his head, tossing it onto a barstool in your kitchen. when he turned back to meet your eyes, his hand rested beneath your chin, pulling you forward.

“i ain’t gon’ ask again, pretty. gimme that tongue.”

and you did. his lips sucked slow, almost as if to numb you beyond understanding. he landed sloppy, slow, drawn out licks on your tongue, the wet sound echoing in your ears.

“that’s it, baby…” he’d murmur, pulling back slowly, lolling the string of spit connecting the two of you together, before kissing you one more time. his hands travelled beneath the sheer material of the babydoll, cupping the swell of your chest, goading out a symphony he dreamed about.

you cupped his face, peering at him through thick lashes, framed by subtle black liner, as he undid the cape, letting it fall off of your shoulders. he placed it onto the counter, before carrying you over the couch, eager to kiss you over and over again.

each kiss grew wetter, slower, nastier than the previous, and you could feel the pleasure make itself evident between your legs. he knew it too… see, he’d grown accustomed to what made you weak. his thick fingers slipped beneath the lace red panties, gathering your slick, quick to taste it.

he knew every button to push, but this one in particular, he knew how to play.

far too well.

“baby, look at ‘ya — she oozin’. wet like a damn leakin’ faucet.”

one final glance and he was onto his knees, peering up at you with a piercing gaze, your thighs wrapped tightly around his head — knowing the rest of the night meant for studying would be spent with a furrowed brow, pretty little pleas leaving your lips until you couldn’t take it anymore.

and it was all because of him.

________________________

tags: @prettyfilmz @cremeful @zillasvilla @clubsoft @charmed-dreamssss @cyberdejos2 @4milly @trippinsorrows @kenshisluvrgirl @sheaabuttaababyy @mselenalovebug @sayyestoheav3nn @shantinextdoor @minsingular @whowrotethenote @that-90s-girllll @harmshake @empressdede @usoinked @szatears @spiicii @punksyeet @luna-thecreator

i dunno who wanted to be tagged so i did it based on who i've seen reblog sinners content on the dash! if u wanna be added/removed just comment <3

[unholyxthoughts]

Imagine me finding out people are actually mad that Aaron is with Teyana.. Please get help FAST, yall are in a parasocial relationship

[unholyxthoughts]

A Lesson to be Learned Pt 2

Smoke returns to Annie and finds out that he's not the only person who's been having nookie in the 7 years that passed. But of course, for him it doesn't count, but for Annie? It's a PROBLEM.

A/N: This is based on a prompt someone posted of Smoke finding Annie with someone else and losing his mind. If you happen to know who made that prompt, please tag them so I can say thank you. Also ENJOY! Shout out to my co-writer who RP'ed Annie.

Warnings: SMUT, SMUT, SMUT, dual narratives with Annie's side and Smoke's, Object penetration, An@l

--------------------------------------------------------------

Annie inhales and exhales slowly, trying to find her words, tonguing them from behind her teeth. “How many women did you lay with while you were gone?” She didn’t believe for a second that a man as gorgeous and as magnetic as he hadn't taken lovers in the years apart. When he got gone, he was supposed to stay gone, for good. Most men left and never came back. How was she supposed to know he would? Was she supposed to wait for him?

She already knew the answer, as unfair as it was.

“You come here, not even asking, demanding I take you back, in my house, in my bed and in my body. As if everything is ok. How’d you think I’ve been Elijah?”

How many men had inquired, asked, and begged for her time? How long was she supposed to live like a widow? The unfortunate man she slept with had been one of the more useful but persistent ones, but he wasn't a love for her. The help he’d provided her and the community she looked after wasn’t small. But Elijah wouldn’t care about any of that.

All he saw was an infringement on his property.

It's not anger.

It's a seething rage that can't be tempered by her reasonable words or questions. He's hers, as much as she is his, but his dick wasn't the equivalent to her puss, not the same puss that had carried his seed and nurtured their daughter.

She was supposed to be his from the moment he married her; it didn't matter how long he was away, she belonged at his side, with him. Not bent over taking another man's seed.

"Motherfucking Beau-Dallas? That nigga you gave my puss to? Annie? Girl, if you wanted another nigga you coulda fucked Stack."

He found he meant that shit. If she needed reprieve, it should have been Stack. Though he knew it wouldn't have worked logistically, it felt right. Well, more right than this. This shit hurt his heart something fierce.

Annie doesn’t dignify the words coming out of her man’s mouth with a reply. Together, they both face the awkward, painful silence that follows. She eyed the man who had taken her virginity up and down, her hands finding their place at her hips.

“What do you want, Elijah? What are you expecting from me?” She wants him to spell it out. What would satisfy the evil spirit in him, and what would pacify both their woes for the moment?

Before, she’d thought (naive, hopeful) lying down with him would be enough. But no, how could he not notice? Fool her for bothering to hope.

Smoke looks into her eyes and doesn't say a word. He has no words left inside of him, just anger. He places his pipe at her side and squeezes her neck one more time in warning. 'Stay your ass here' he says with his eyes and she nods.

Nothing has changed in her shop, or in their house, so he knows exactly where to pull her wash basin and ambles to the stand pipe. As it shudders to life, he finds himself clenching his fist once, then twice, repeating the motion over and over again. A nervous habit he developed when they couldn't find tobacco in the trenches and rations hadn't come in yet. Something to ground him when there was nothing else.

The water spurts to life, and he fills the basin, his hands getting wet in the process. When he returns to the shop, he closes the back door behind him with a bang and sets the basin on the counter.

“Wash that nigga’s shit out’cha”

Annie stares from the basin, then back at Elijah. With a resigned look, she decides to do as he asks, moving towards the basin. In her mind, she would take it, go somewhere else to rinse and come back. That is not, however, what her man has in mind.

Annie takes the basin in hand and raises her skirt, hitching it on her hip, but he doesn't want that. Her main shop door is wide open and she's in full view of the empty street, but even if she wasn't, Smoke wouldn't, couldn't, find it in him to care. Instead, he presses down on her shoulders, forcing her into a squat. Then he kicks her legs wider and she gasps as her hips creek to life and her pussy comes into full view. He spies the dried seed along her thigh, pittance compared to what he always filled her with, but it also doesn't detract from the holy place between her legs.

Kneeling at her side, Annie watches as he picks up the mug, with the broken handles and calmly fills it with water before pressing it into her hands. With shaking hands, Annie spread her second lips with two fingers, a sight she knows Elijah delights in with his widening eyes and glance down.

She pours the cold water between her spread legs, choking down the cry of the cold touching her skin.

“Inside too,” Elijah’s voice is firm, and she finds herself nodding and tilting her pelvis and trying to clean herself from the seed dried in her hair and crevices.

“At least you kept my bush intact, though you givin’ away my puss like it's field rations.” The commentary, slick as usual, stings. Not for the first time, she realises he wouldn’t be forgetting this anytime soon. And that odd comment on Stack aside, she would just have to press through it.

“It’s all for you. You gon’ keep fussing?”

Her position is awkward, and the focused, heavy attention leaves her feeling self-conscious. The aim here was to clean herself, but her man seemed to be dallying a lot on a sight that obviously pissed him off.

She was too nonchalant for a woman who had been caught cheating, breaking her wedding vows and giving away her hoodoo puss to the unworthy and uninitiated. Did she not understand the gravity of her actions? Did she not care?

"Clearly it ain't when you leaking another man's seed" his words had venom, and he could see the pain register in her face, but he couldn't find it in himself to care.

He glanced around and stifled a grin when his eyes landed on exactly what he needed. Picking up her oil funnel, he threw it into the air and caught it again.

Stooping at her side, he allowed himself to grin as she met his eye with trepidation. “I want my shit clean Annie” he grunted and rammed the end of the funnel deep inside her, pulling a yelp from her lips. He was glad, shit deserved to pain her the same way it pained him something fierce.

On some level, Smoke knew he was being irrational. He’d been gone seven years, and in that time frame he and Stack had fucked plenty of women, some alone, some together.

"Use that and wash my puss out clean,"

Oh. So that’s how it was gonna be.

The next few moments take on an almost ritualistic quality. Annie stares up at Elijah Moore and feels … indifferent. She knew who he was when they’d jumped that broom together, and she knew who he was now as he requested vindictively for her to purge herself.

The pain and discomfort were secondary to the humiliation of the moment. All of which were brought on by her own sloppy actions. She knew she should have rolled some dice and thrown some bones, but she had been needy, and it had been seven days without relief. ‘This is where lust gets you,’ she thinks and then has to let go. Her pussy throbs once more but this time in distress as she works to “clear” the liquid from inside.

Annie's too calm, too collected. So Smoke shoves it deeper, harsher into her and tips water into the funnel. She cries out, "Elijah, my puss. That hurts!" and he can't feel anything but smug satisfaction. He's cruel, but it doesn't matter. The wind blows through the open door, and she shivers as she tries to wash out the seed.

It's probably long gone. Smoke didn't see too much when she bent over, and Beau-Dallas wasn't known as a particularly fertile man. Then again, he couldn't speak. Smoke didn't have any living children either. Although he had a lot more dead ones than Beau-Dallas, some American, many, many international ones, but none that he claimed as his baby girl. But, even then, his promise had always been to seed Annie's pussy only and as such he wouldn't let another woman bear his child. Pity she hadn't kept her side of the bargain and ensured no one had his pussy when he'd made sure that no woman on American land took his seed without taking tea with it too to ensure her soil was fallow.

With his free hand, he pinches her long nipple tightly and wrings it to the side. "You gon' make it up to me? How Mrs. Moore?"

She’d said nary a word about ‘making it up to him.’ Factually, it should be the other way around. He’d left her, not the other way around, but logic has no place here.

Consciously, she knows to bow her head. “Anything you want, Papa.” She's starting to get some ideas. Granted, half of it was things that would make her squirt, but the other half was pure punishment. She’s only been figged once, but if it had to happen again—and it soothed her man’s ire some then she could bear it again.

But that was a last resort. “You know it’s yours.” This part is said through the ever increasing discomfort as she struggles to flush the last of it out. “I’m at your mercy, big man… so whatever you like. Spank it, hurt it, break it. Ain’t that what's on your mind right now?”

Elijah was obviously hurting. And making it her job to fix.

It was the 'Papa' that did it for him. Dropping the funnel in the basin, Smoke sank three thick fingers into Annie and growled when she cried out. He stretched his fingers and smirked, clearly Beau-Dallas didn't pack anything worth shit in his pants because Annie was tight, a lil loose and wet at the entrance, but past that first inch, she was tight, tight, tight. Licking up her neck, he pulled them both to their feet and roughly bent Annie forward over the counter so she could watch the door

She was shaking something fierce but Smoke was more than happy, hoping that someone would pass by them and see her slutted out, see how he kept his wife ready and willing beneath him.

He pulled up her dress, showing miles of beautiful brown skin, stretch marks and rippling ass. He kicked her legs apart and slapped her ass so hard it jiggled and screamed. She'd never like being handled roughly, shied away from a good spanking, but she'd have no choice now.

He rained slaps against her bare ass and pussy, the sounds loud in the air and her cries mixing with the claps. Annie's ass was pulsing with blood and her pussy lips engorged and wetting his fingers each time he slapped the plump lips.

Punishment it was.

Annie doesn’t try to stifle anything, sounds forced out of her, and Elijah spanks her raw. He uses enough force to leave a mark, but not too much more than that. She knows she should feel grateful; her husband always knew his limits, unlike many other men. But she’s also feeling hard done by and antsy about it all.

How many licks till he felt satisfied, how much anguish could he possibly wring out of her?

“Papa—‘m sorry.” She finally breaks down to apologise. Pride was thrown clean off, and a future of scrutiny lay before her. “—‘m sorry. Papa, it’s yours ‘m sorry. I won’t do it again.” She seeks out all the contriteness she can muster, now mired with fear and more upset. Why’d he have to be so rough? He knew she hated it when he was rough.

Lifting his hand from beating her booty to a blooming red, Smoke looked over his handiwork. Her purpling ass cheeks, dripping wet cooze and winking rosebud. It was that sight that made him groan. Quickly and efficiently, he brought down his trousers and underwear, placing his guns on either side of Annie's head on the counter with a thud. With a hand he pulled one of her ass cheeks to the side, groaning at the sound of her wet puss separating. He leaned in close and ran his tongue over her booty hole before spitting on it and with his other hand lining up his dick. Anticipating what he was about to do, his Annie sobbed against the counter, saying, "No, Papa. You too big, an nothin’ been in there since you left."

Smoke helped his tip onto her winking rosebud, he smeared his precum over it, getting it a little wet - that’s all the prep she’d get from him - and started to push.

"Good."

Annie realises much too late where she went wrong. Held tight and too firm, she understands she should have started crying and carrying on immediately. From the moment she saw her man, even. She shouldn’t have played it cool. Shouldn’t have gotten Elijah all worked up to the point that he was now so god damned intent on brutalizing her poor hole.

Through tears and cries and moans she tries and fails to let him in, too tight and not nearly enough preparation for the monster between his legs masquerading as a pecker. But just like her bad decisions from before it was just too late.

With one hand on her ass, slapping her shit, Smoke reached over his hand and pinched her long nipple, as he rode her ass. Annie sobbed into the counter, eyes leaking water and Smoke felt some of his anger abate slightly - only slightly. He eased himself into her hole, all too many inches to count, up in her guts. He planted his feet firmly on the wood floor and thrust into her so hard her head hit the table as he rearranged her guts.

Annie sobs, and the stretch alone almost makes her faint. Somehow, she doesn’t maintain consciousness as he forces his way inside. She can’t feel much more past her pain and discomfort, that which goes up by several notches when he pulls back to thrust back in.

The movement makes her scream, and she fights not to bite her tongue through her moans of complaint and apology. His name, intermingled with endearments and other pleas, fell from her lips like rain. Together, they participate in some twisted, synchronous version of unholy communion. He seeking appeasement, she seeking grace.

It's tight and rough, and a part of Smoke regrets going in dry, so much so that he reaches for the ointment she keeps on the counter and dips two fingers in the jar. When he pulls out so only the tip remains inside, he slathers his length and then flexes his cheeks and sinks back into her, smoother, but no less painful for her. That was better. With his hand on her breast, he pulled her onto his chest as he arched back himself and fucked her deep.

Some of her crying recedes when he adds some lubricant, but she can’t quite pull it all together; it’s just too much. This man was always too much. Through tears, she asks, “This what you’ve been missing?”

She can’t force the words out like ‘you satisfied?’ or ‘when will it be enough?’ but that’s what she means. Being held by him carries its own immense pressure and oppression; it means the entire time since he came in, since he held her down and forced his way inside her, she hadn’t once thought, not seriously, about fighting back. It just didn’t make sense. To fight him would be to drag things on, to act on the anger that coated her love and longing for him. She didn't want to drag this on any further. She wanted him satisfied, pacified. She wanted her gentleman back, and to get him, she had to get through this first.

Each slow thrust—now with less strain and drag on her walls—pulls something in her. Launching her racing heart back from the absolute, painful despair from before and into something more queer. With her face, ass, and hole so hot and under pressure it started to walk the thin cruel line of being almost but not quite … enough. Almost pleasurable but not enough, almost good but not enough.

She knew what would make it enough, though. But had no confidence to ask. It takes her asking him that question to draw him back into himself, to realise who is beneath him, outside of the cloud of anger all around him. Leaning over her, resting his weight on her back, Smoke wraps his arms around Annie's body and his fingers trail across her body, leaving fire in his wake. Reaching between her thick thighs, he found her nub and began rolling his finger over her button, bringing moans up from deep in her chest as he dug out her back passage.

"This what I been missing baby, you up under me. Now slip me some sweetness Ma," he commands and she shifts her head to the side and purses her lips.

Smoke doesn't hesitate, angling his head so that they could lip lock, tongues battling for dominance as his sweat dripped down onto her face. Annie can feel the moment, Smoke comes back to himself and waits anxiously for the relief it would bring. Her man—this man would lose his entire head when he was angry. And there was no going around it. Not till he cooled, not till he was satisfied. When she kisses him, she bites him too. Not taken by his words or his actions. He’d already punished her, broke her, split her open till she screamed. What came after that was compensation.

Still, she grabs a firm hold of the pleasure, soft and hesitant, unfurling within her. He man could be oh so good, when he wanted to be.

-----------------------------------------------------

AN: The rest of this chapter corrupted .... I'm PISSED but we will have a part 3, possibly 4, hope you enjoyed and apologies for it being short KMT.

[unholyxthoughts]

A Lesson to be Learned Pt 1

Smoke returns to Annie and finds out that he's not the only person who's been having nookie in the 7 years that passed. But of course, for him it doesn't count, but for Annie? It's a PROBLEM.

A/N: This is based on a prompt someone posted of Smoke finding Annie with someone else and losing his mind. If you happen to know who made that prompt, please tag them so I can say thank you. Also ENJOY! Shout out to my co-writer who RP'ed Annie.

Warnings: SMUT, SMUT, SMUT, dual narratives with Annie's side and Smoke's

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

Smoke wasn’t pleased.

He sniffed the air, his lip curled into a half snarl as his eyes traced the figure disappearing into the distance. Beau-Dallas had looked somewhat stricken at seeing him pull into the plot of land, and even after laying flowers on baby girls resting spot, something still felt off to him.

Still, he put such thoughts to the back of his mind as he walked to the door. When Annie opened the door, a half-smile crossed her lips, and he felt his expression quickly clear. He turned his head to rest his eyes on her, “how you be?” his voice rough and raw.

Something had told Annie that today was going to be a pivotal day, but she had hoped it was the day he would finally release her, allowing her to enjoy her own flesh without guilt. Instead, she felt her heart pounding as she heard the car rumbling in the distance. She’d rushed Beau-Dallas out the door, but she knew it was too late, that he’d been noticed when she really didn’t want to draw attention to herself. Granted, Beau-Dallas hadn’t needed much rushing, a letdown of a man in all manner of ways.

However, the minute she'd realised who had come knocking at her door, her stomach dropped into her gut and her legs went weak. Of course, he would appear today. The last person she expected to see. The worst person, even at a time like this. "Why you here Smoke?" She asks through a crack in the doorway. She doesn't let him in. She can’t. She tries to hold it together, fronting and pretending a moral high ground she knows he wouldn't allow. He'd left her. Not the other way around, but he wouldn't see it that way. She knew that, like she knew his love for her.

"We through with Chicago. And this home." Smoke didn't have to say it was his home, that was implied, a given actually, because Annie was always his home, had been his home since he married her, given her his last name, and seeded her right. If he wasn't gallivanting across the land with Stack, trying to keep that boy alive and with a head firmly on his shoulders, then he was with Annie. There were no other options, no other tethers for him on this land, but his brother and his woman.

Funny how it was only after so many years away, did he remember where home was.

"Well, welcome home." She offered drily, not budging an inch and refusing to stand down despite a rising panic. "You seen your daughter, you seen me. What more you want?" He didn't deserve any more emotion from her, though her heart ached at her words, at their distance. But, her traitorous heart whispered, he'd been the one to leave. No money, and no half arsed messages sent over the years could replace his missing presence. She hadn’t wanted that; she’d wanted him.

"Woman," Smoke planted his feet on either side of her doorway, unmoving. He'd expected resistance, but this callousness was unlike his wife. He could have budged past her, pushed her to the side and entered the shop HE had built, on the land HE had paid for, for HIS wife, but he'd remembered enough southern manners to speak to her from between a clenched jaw and act polite. "I know you hurt, and I know I ain't shit, but you’se my home, ain't nowhere else I 'spose to be, but with you and baby girl."

"Smoke, I done already moved on. I had how many years? Living without you?" How many nights had she slept alone? How many times had she touched herself in private thinking about a cock she missed and a man she loved. How many times had she cursed, remembering his mouth, his hands. And here, he was again, two arms, two legs, two eyes and a brain that worked. Against her will, and her better judgement, she felt herself start to soften. She missed him bad. She missed his hands, his slick mouth, his dick pressed deep in her pussy, her mouth, even her arse. That’s where he'd taken first, back when they'd been too young - too young to be doing anything really, and especially too young to spring up a child neither could care for.

Smoke closed his eyes and breathed deeply. As a man of few words, he'd married a woman who fought primarily with hers because she balanced him out, she could be his mouth piece and he her strength. But on a day like today, he could feel nothing but rising blood pressure from Annie's antics. "Yeah, and I'm motherfuckin' Jim Crow. Let me in, Annie."

She wondered distantly what habits her man may have picked up, as the frustration Beau-Dallas antics inside of her throbbed again, what sort of women he’d held down and fucked while they were apart. Had he licked them? Touched them tender? Did Smoke give them the good good as he’d always given her?

Her heart ached.

“Why? What are you planning, Smoke?” She asks because she knows what will happen if she lets him in. She wonders what he would do once he spread her legs and found another man’s seed. Would he beat her? Hurt her? Take her other hole instead? What would it be? She shook her head to clear her thoughts and shortened the space, pressing the door closed a little more. There was no need to open the door to old demons.

"We not having this conversation on the street for any ole nigga to hear Annie." The idea that their business would be public fodder and affect her business was the only thing that kept Smoke from pulling the door off the hinges and taking his woman into hand. It was hard enough to be back in Clarksdale after so many years, and though the reputation of the Smokestack twins preceded them, Smoke didn't want to take anymore chances with someone who didn't know the rules that ran the town, not after the incident earlier with Terry and the Maybell Plantation nigga outside the Chow’s. "Open the door, Annie, and let me through. You ain't gon' like what I'll do if you don't, and baby girl don't need to see her mama getting her shit popped."

Against her better judgment, she lets him in. Resolved to what seems inevitable now. When she steps back to let the door swing open, she feels a twinge from down below. A burning heat that only increases when she gets a whiff of Smoke’s scent after so long. She’d been aroused ever since she realised who it was at her door, but God it aches something different to have him so close, passing her space to get inside. Her body, after all these tests, these trials and tribulations, hasn’t forgotten. And no sloppy half-hearted coupling with a man whose cock couldn’t even fill her up right would change it.

When Annie opens the door, Smoke breezes past her, his hand already outstretched for his pipe. Once it's in his mouth, he doesn't hesitate to sit down and reach out for the good ganja he knew she kept hidden underneath the shop counter. She's pottering around, trying to keep busy and trying to avoid his eyes, and he can't help but let his eyes roam over her body in want. She's wearing his colour. A blue dress, light cotton so it stains easily with sweat under her arms, around her neck, and when she bends over a bit, he sees the sweat has formed crescent shapes on the places where the fabric rests under her booty cheeks when she stands. A fire burns inside, further fuelled when he pulls his hand back from under the counter and pulls the ganja, but also a soft scrap of fabric alongside it.

Panties.

Soiled, white panties.

Smirking, Smoke slowly put them in his pocket and patted the fabric. "Why you catching an attitude Baby? Ain't like you to cuss me."

Now that she let him in, Annie started to ponder her options. Enraging him further wasn’t it. It was too late, and she couldn’t hide the evidence of what she’d been doing, not with her dress clinging to her body with sweat and that man’s seed rolling down her leg. So, what was left?

Appeasement.

She breathed deeply, trying to stop the shaking in her hands. The ointment was still out. She’d needed it for that man, her pussy hadn’t been too interested in his ministrations and there was only so much juice she could pull from her own puss in front a man that didn’t stir her loins. She eyed it discreetly on the counter, wondered if Smoke noticed it, remembered it as the same ointment he’d used time and time again to ease into her back passage.

“How long ‘ave you been gone Smoke? Was I supposed to be happy you back? Forgive just like that?” She didn’t want to. She deserved to be upset. Deserved to seek out someone after so long; she wasn’t meant to be a widow indefinitely. Or till he remembered he had pussy at home. She was too loving, too pretty, too powerful to be left so alone for so long. He couldn’t just waltz back in, not after he left, and he couldn’t look at her with those eyes and make her feel guilty.

Smoke's eyes watched her keenly. She purposefully kept just outside the span of his arms, so he wouldn't pull her close. Yet, she turned to him as she cussed him out, hands on hips as she breathed a little deeply. "Seven years, baby, I know. Seven long years." He closed his eyes and shook his head to rid himself of the memories of the long nights, the nights without her, his heart breaking all over again. "But, I'm back, Annie and baby girl, she's at rest." He breathed deeply and took a few puffs on the pipe. "Papa's home for good. Stack an' me, we gon' open up a Juke joint, an' I'm gonna build you that house I promised you, an' we gon' have babies, give baby girl some siblings to look over, and we gon’ be happy, Annie. Together again, I promise yah." He stood up, placing the pipe to his side and though her body was stiff, reluctant, he pulled her close. His nose finding her neck.

She digested the information slowly, leaning away from Smoke, somewhat distrusting, though her body yearned desperately for his touch to quell the heat. “I’ll believe it when I see it.” Settle down, and Smoke didn’t exactly go together, especially when Stack was involved. A voice that sounded a little too similarly to Mary chastised her, told her to keep her suspicion. Still, it’s a fight not to melt right into his arms. Strong hands, a familiar scent, a broad chest. His voice lights something up within her, and she finds some tears collecting in the corner of her eyes. She’d been thinking about trying again, finding someone to give her a child. Probably a son. Someone to keep her company when everyone left, someone who would stay. And here came Smoke. “I missed you.” And that was the truth.

They hadn’t talked about trying again. Too lost in grief, but he was ready now, and he wanted their future back. "I missed you, too.” It's easy to pull her close, her chest heaving and pillow soft, without her brassiere pressed against his own, and capture her lips. She tastes as she always does, as she tasted in their youth, and he can't help but grasp her chin and cheek with his hands, pulling her into his orbit. She's his once more, and it's glorious.

Kissing Smoke never ceased to amaze her. The pure sensuality of it. Lips on lips, teeth, spit, and the single-minded energy that seemed intent on devouring her. She leans in with more and more fervour, her body increasingly primed for something and pussy leaking in new bursts for what she knew what was come next, what she desired to come next, her mind strays away from her trepidation, from her fear of the situation happening between her legs.

Annie is warm beneath his hands and Smoke can't help but slap her ass when his hands travel down her back to clutch at her curves. She moans into his mouth and he grins, drawing her close and digging his hands into her ass as he rhythmically slapped her ass so it continued to shake, one cheek then the next. "Shake that shit for papa," he says pulling back from the kiss to look into her eyes. He reached his hands further down, hiking up her dress onto her hips. Smoke didn't need to look, his hands knew exactly how to find her button and warm centre. So his fingers roughly part her second lips, groaning as he heard the loud wet sound as the lips separated."You miss me, baby?"

Her man doesn’t miss a step, and soon she’s enveloped in warm, familiar pressure. Holding on to her upset and anger is futile in the face of those eyes, fuck his hands know exactly where to go. He obviously hasn’t forgotten her body after all this time. A flick to her clit sends another warm wave all through her and she presses back on his fingers hungrily.

This is what she’s been craving what she missed. His hands on her. His words, filth and all.

She’s moaning now. Soft and plaintive at first, but increasing with strength.

"How can you—“ She can’t even finish the sentence. Rage flooding through her, intercepting her lust and longing. “How are you—gon’ fix your mouth to ask—If I missed ?” She missed him every day. In the beginning, she’d been so damn sad. It faded somewhat with time. As did the pitying glances and words people sent her way. But to ask?

They had a child for christ sake. She'd cradled the babe in her arms and cried for days. How many times had she wished he were with her? How many times had different folk run roughshod over her because they knew he had abandoned her.

She's warm, wet, and the room smells like sweat - like sex, but he can't focus on that because she's unbridled rage and upset in his arms. "Hush," he soothes her, "jus' playin. I know you missed me, I missed you too." That's an understatement. He thought of her constantly. In Germany, in England, in France, in the day, in the night, when he ate, when he slept, even when he was balls deep in some woman he couldn't remember, he had missed his woman.

His Annie.

Not for the first time, Annie thinks, ‘I must be a fool.’ Only a fool would cave like this at the first sign of contriteness, the first sign of apology from a man like Elijah Moore. She was that very fool.

It’s not enough, can’t be. There’s too much time for the two of them to make up for, but the same way she’d know what would be when she let this devil of a man enter her house again. Is the same way she knows she’ll take this paltry offering anyway.

“Elijah…” She says his name out loud for the first time. Not the moniker, not the mask. Her man. Long gone. Now back.

“You realise how much you embarrassed me, yes?” He had more than an apology to make up for. She needed her pride reinforced here. Not just his ego. And she knew he had one.

Even now, with another man’s seed inside her, he still thought he owned her. Still felt entitled to her body—her womb, even. And she’d given in to him still. She doesn’t understand, can’t fathom the pull he’s got on her.

“Tell me you’ll make it right.” That’s all she’s asking. Maybe it’s too much.

Maybe all he can offer her is some good dick and a pleasurable time, some handsome to brighten her day and all the trouble that came with him. Maybe. But something in her still trusts him. She had to. Otherwise, she wouldn’t be letting him talk her out of her metaphorical draws like this.

Smoke was not a man of words, so it was hard to bring forth what was needed, but he looked deep and he scoured his soul. She’s moaning now. Soft and plaintive at first, but increasing with strength, and Smoke can’t help the satisfaction brewing in his body as he toys with her honey pot.

"I'll make it right, baby, Papa will make it right." She was his second baby, their baby girl his third and Stack the first, but Annie had always been his special one. His gorgeous babe, who looked glorious with her sweat-slicked skin.

It wasn't just his sexual attraction, it was the desire, the way her body moved when in euphoria, the love he knew she felt for him in her heart and her power, tingling under her skin and warming his soul.

She groans in upset when he removes his fingers, and he can’t help his smirk as he brings his fingers close to his face. He stopped, glancing between his fingers and her face. “Baby, you creamin'?”

Annie stares up into gorgeous, complex eyes and knows without a doubt that she's in trouble. Her man was a vengeful person. And there’d be hell to pay for the unfortunate man she’d just lain with. As well as herself.

That alone is enough to make her pussy throb in anticipation and increasing fear.

In the past Elijah had shown jealousy before and she’d played it off and been able to reassure him that it wasn’t any other man’s but his.

Now with her caught redhanded, pussy still wet from another mans seed? Not a chance in hell. Lord how long would he hold this over her head?

No subpar sex was worth this. She should have just touched herself and gone to sleep. This is where lust led her.

Punishment.

“I sure wasn’t before.” She acknowledged the event that had occurred previously and held her breath.

His nose catches the scent, and Smoke feels anger like he’s never felt before. His mind runs through the clues, her sweaty skin, clammy hands and reluctance to open the door. Her wet pussy that was loose and open to his touch. “This shit smells like seed” The admission is all over her face and it takes every inch of self control in Smoke to not flip the table and do something drastic to her. “You gave my pussy to some field nigga in the Delta?”

Smoke feels an unbridled rage, that can't be tempered by her wide innocent expression and her mouth set in a pout. A wicked woman is his wife. A wicked, wicked woman.

In a quick motion, he has his hand around her neck, loosely, very loosely. Just enough to scare her, but nothing serious and stares into her eyes.

"Annie?" He asks in warning.

[unholyxthoughts]

Unravelled | Aaron Pierre

pairing: slightly older + switch!aaron pierre x switch!black reader

warnings: smut (18+), orgasm denial, overstimulation, power exchange, d/s dynamic, praise kink, worship kink, bondage, hair pulling, restraint/control, possessive language and aftercare

summary: control was a game they played well but tonight someone would snap. she let him watch. he let her burn. but behind closed doors, they both come undone. power shifts. patience and pleasure becomes the only law they follow. the party ended and their real games began. he held back all night. now he gets to let go and she makes him beg for it

word count: 2.6K

The penthouse thrummed with the low murmur of money and power - the kind of hush that accompanied aged whisky, tailored suits, and men who made decisions with minimal words and maximum consequence.

Aaron stood near the bar, glass in hand, his salt-and-pepper beard trimmed sharp against the deep navy of his open-collared shirt. No tie. Just a glimpse of ink at his collarbone, the glint of gold from his watch, the subtle curve of a ring on his index finger.

He was making the socially acceptable noises that implied he was listening; nods, polite hums - but it was clear he didn’t want to be there.

He hadn’t wanted to come at all. These kinds of parties were always loud in the wrong ways. Full of sycophants and small talk. But a friend had insisted. And she’d said she might come too.

Still, he hadn’t expected her. Not really. Not like this.

He felt her before he saw her - a shift in the air, a ripple in his chest. And then—

Her.

She walked in like she owned the night.

A vision in something slinky and devastating. That colour he could never name because he was always too busy trying not to stare. Her hair was up, exposing her throat. Her lips were painted the same shade that haunted his collarbones after long nights. And her smile? Sweet, small, meant for someone across the room - not him.

His jaw clenched.

All at once, the tension he wore like armour cracked down the middle. His fingers flexed against the glass. His heart, usually slow and steady, stuttered. He hadn’t seen her get ready. Hadn’t zipped up her dress. Hadn’t had the usual privilege of watching her spin for him and ask, “What do you think?”

She hadn’t needed to.

She knew exactly what he’d think.

She moved through the room like she’d been poured into it. Sauntering with that deliberate grace and her waist two sensual beats behind her stride. Her perfume, the one he bought her, cut through the room’s cigar smoke like silk: warm, clean, dizzyingly sweet.

And everyone noticed.

Every head turned.

Everyone watched as the hard reverence in Aaron’s eyes softened into something unmistakably tender. He was unravelling in real-time, stitched loose by the very sight of her.

People greeted him carefully. Men with firm handshakes. Women with polite smiles that never lingered too long. He gave little in return - only nods, clipped replies, a gaze so steady it made most look away.

But when she reached him, she didn’t say anything.

Just stood there - all mischief and control.

Aaron didn’t hesitate. He stepped in close, bowed slightly, and took her hand in his. Pressed a kiss to her knuckles, lingering, reverent. Then he tilted his cheek toward her, beard grazing her skin as he breathed her in.

The shift in him was visible.

His shoulders loosened. His expression softened. And behind his eyes, something unreadable bloomed into something undeniably hers.

Everyone saw it.

The men who’d tried to impress him now watched with thinly veiled curiosity. The women whispered behind their champagne flutes.

Because Aaron - sharp-tongued, unreadable, immovable, had just melted at the sight of one woman.

His woman.

His princess.

His movements were almost imperceptible as he rose from the chair and crossed the room with tunnel vision. He stood by her side, not interrupting her conversation, just grazing her thigh to let her know he was there.

His fingertips paused as they brushed the familiar lace of the garter hidden beneath the slit in her dress.

When she finally acknowledged him, he simply nodded toward a quieter part of the suite. Somewhere more private.

She didn’t speak. Just turned and walked, heels clicking on polished marble, her perfume trailing behind in warm, intoxicating waves.

She wandered into the room like she belonged there.

He followed like he couldn’t help himself.

She dropped her clutch onto the counter, catching her faint reflection in the glass, city lights glowing behind her. She smirked.

“Say it,” she said softly, not turning around.

Aaron rolled his cuffs with slow, precise fingers, his eyes locked on her back. “You look…” he swallowed.

God, she was already playing with him.

“You look like you were made to drive me mad.”

Her smirk curved wider. “There it is.”

In three long strides, he was behind her - hands sliding over her hips, guiding her until she was pressed flush against the floor-to-ceiling window, her back to his chest.

“You’re late,” he murmured, voice thick with gravel.

“I wanted to see if you’d wait for me.”

“You know I would.”

He buried his face in the crook of her neck, beard scraping gently against her skin. His hands roamed freely now, greedy and reverent all at once. He breathed her in like a man starved.

“You’ve got no idea what you do to me,” he growled. “Let me see you. Now.”

She turned slowly, deliberately, locking eyes with him.

“Take it off,” he said, voice dipping into command.

“Still pretending you’re in charge, daddy?” she whispered.

His jaw ticked. “Don’t start.”

“Oh, I think I will.” Her hand slid into his curls, tugging hard enough to make him groan.

“You forget who owns you when you’re in a suit.”

It hurt him to let her take the reins. But he let her. Always.

She kissed him, barely. A brush of her lips, then gone. He chased the second - missed.

She laughed, low and wicked, and reached beneath her dress.

Aaron watched, helpless, as she slipped her panties down her legs with a maddening drag.

She balled them in her hand, stepped in close, and without a word, tucked them neatly into the pocket of his suit jacket, pressing her palm flat to his chest.

“There,” she whispered. “That should keep you distracted.”

He made a sound, somewhere between a growl and a moan. Hunger laced with surrender.

“Fuck,” he breathed, eyes fluttering shut as her scent hit him. Warm. Head-spinning. Unmistakably hers.

“I’m going to ruin you,” she said, fingertips ghosting up his throat, “and you’re going to thank me for it.”

And with that, she turned and walked back into the party like nothing had happened.

She kept him waiting.

Not cruelly but knowingly. A dance of glances, of subtle defiance wrapped in satin and smirks. She continued to mingle, to dance, to laugh - the life of the party without trying, radiant and divine, and every bit aware of the man tracking her every move like a starved animal.

Aaron let her have her moment. Let her shine. Let her bask.

But the leash was fraying.

His hand tightened around his glass. His gaze, calm at first, began to shift. That storm in his chest no longer whispered, it rumbled. The longer she smiled at men who weren’t him, the more his patience eroded in jagged, hungry pieces.

And then it happened.

Across the room - a look.

Sharp. Singular. Final.

Enough.

She met his gaze, and something passed between them like lightning, electric, breathless, absolute. No argument. No teasing reply. She understood. She wanted this too.

With quiet grace, she turned back to the circle she’d been entertaining, exchanged a few soft goodbyes, gathered her things without a single glance back.

She headed toward the door to wait for him.

He didn’t give her time to get comfortable.

The ride was silent.

Thick with tension. His hand on her bare thigh, thumb stroking slow, possessive circles that made her shift in her seat and squeeze her legs together. He didn’t speak. Didn’t even look at her. Just stared out the window with a clenched jaw and the promise of unravelling barely veiled in his profile.

She tried to steady her breath. Tried not to let the heat between her legs spread into visible tremors.

But God, the weight of him, of his silence, of his hand, was a gravity she couldn’t escape.

When they finally arrived, the city lights behind the penthouse shimmered like a stage curtain waiting to fall. She reached for his hand as they entered, not to pull away, not to stop him - but to thread their fingers.

A silent signal.

You can lose control now.

He didn’t say a word. Just lifted her hand to his lips, kissed her wrist like a vow, and walked her inside.

The door clicked shut behind them, locking out the world.

She wandered in like she owned the place. Effortless. Unbothered. Ethereal.

He followed like he couldn’t help himself.

The city lay sprawled below them, glittering like it existed just for them. Floor-to-ceiling windows wrapped around the penthouse in cold elegance, but Aaron had eyes only for her.

His restraint had lasted long enough.

Now, behind locked doors and blackout glass, there were no more eyes. No crowd. No civility to cling to. Just raw permission. Just her - and the only control he recognized: the kind she gave him.

Here, they could truly be themselves.

He finally snapped.

Not loud. Not wild.

Just… decisive.

Aaron was all silence and precision - composed, deadly focused, every move laced with intent. He didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t have to.

She tried to keep teasing. Tried to sway her hips with that same party-girl spark in her eyes, like she was still in control.

But he was done with her games.

She let the leash go. He yanked it.

Hard.

Before she could say another word, he had her bent over the back of the leather armchair overlooking the city - the same one they’d sat in last time, her in his lap, all soft kisses and slow touches.

Not tonight.

“Let them see if they want,” he growled low in her ear, hand splayed firm against her lower back. “I only care if you come when I say.”

She was already shaking, worked up from the party, the silent ride, the look in his eyes that told her you’re mine now. He slid his fingers between her thighs, and she gasped - wet, aching, right on the edge.

And he stopped.

She whimpered, grinding back against his hand, desperate.

“No.”

That was all he said.

Orgasm denial began in earnest - sharp, relentless, precise. He brought her to the brink once. Twice. A third time and still withheld.

She was a mess of breathy pleads and bitten-off cries.

He growled when she resisted.

Whimpered when she praised.

When she reached back to pull at his hair, desperate for something to ground her, he rewarded her with his fingers again, with kisses against her neck, with filth whispered into her skin like prayer.

She had him right where she wanted him.

Maybe she turned the tables for a moment, rode him slow, edging him again and again. Or maybe she pulled away entirely, giving him just her fingers and voice while he begged for more, desperation leaking through every trembling growl.

His reactions were raw. Visceral.

That low, guttural sound he made when she tugged his hair. The way he clenched his fists when she denied him again. The hitch in his breath when her praise hit just right, soft strokes through his beard, murmured "Good boy," at the base of his throat.

The scent of her arousal clung to him and tangled in his beard, glistening on his mouth, pooling in his lap. It made him feral with need.

But he wasn’t allowed to finish.

Not yet.

Not until she said so.

“On your knees, daddy,” she whispered, curling her fingers around his collar, giving it a yank just sharp enough to make his breath stutter.

“You want to touch? You earn it.”

His jaw clenched, not in defiance but need.

She knew that tension. Knew how he flexed his fists when his control started to splinter. Knew the sound he made, low and guttural, when he was on the brink of breaking.

One slow stroke through his curls, one soft please, and he was hers all over again - whimpering when she denied him a second kiss, growling when she ghosted her lips over his and pulled back.

His beard brushed her thighs, and she felt it - the sting, the burn, the ache she’d be wearing for hours.

This was the part she lived for: when all that power in him folded under the weight of her touch. When the man who commanded, rooms would fall to pieces at her feet.

And still she wasn’t done with him yet.

Aaron was on his knees now, not literally. Not yet. But emotionally?

Utterly.

His beard scratched gently against her thighs, lips trailing over the marks he’d left. Not just kissing them - worshipping them. Like they were sacred. Like they meant something.

They did.

“You were so good,” he murmured between each kiss, voice hoarse with sincerity. “You wreck me. I’d do anything you ask.”

And he meant it.

He begged to make her come, not just for permission, but for purpose. To serve. To give her everything.

“Tell me what you want, princess,” he whispered, trembling slightly. “I need to hear it.”

She let him.

But not without conditions.

“Only if you beg like I did at the party.”

That made him stutter. Hands bound behind him, muscles straining, head tipped back in submission. The man who once held every eye in the room now held nothing but the hope that she’d let him touch.

He was unravelling.

Breaking.

She straddled his thigh, leaned in close, bit his neck just hard enough to bruise. Marking him. Branding him.

Hers.

“Look at you,” she breathed, running a finger down the line of his throat. “My perfect man.”

Then she slipped his ring - his -onto her finger with a smile that could ruin worlds.

“It looks better on me, doesn’t it?”

Only yeses filled his mind. No room for anything else. Only yes. Only please. Only the frantic beat of devotion in his chest.

Desperate pleads. Shaky promises. “I’ll be good.” “I’ll serve.” “Whatever you want - just tell me.”

She was his goddess, and he’d do anything. Everything.

And maybe then, just maybe, she would finally let him come.

Or maybe…

She wouldn’t.

They lay tangled - bare, messy, breathless.

Her cheek rested against his chest; their limbs knotted together in a perfect kind of chaos. Skin on skin. Sweat cooling. Hearts still racing from the wreckage they made of each other.

She shifted slightly, reached for his jacket where it had fallen carelessly beside them. Slipped a hand into the inner pocket. And when her fingers closed around familiar paper…

She blinked. Sat up just enough to look at him.

“You kept them.”

He didn’t open his eyes. Just gave a lazy half-smile, one hand finding her waist like it belonged there.

“I never let go.”

It hit her like a soft punch to the sternum. He meant it. Not just the note. Not just tonight. Her.

He laid his head in her lap, beard scratching the inside of her thigh, and she carded her fingers through his short curls - slow, soothing strokes, like worship. Like grounding.

She cleaned him up with the same hands that had just undone him, whispered quiet praises into his hair, reminding him what he was: hers.

Still growly with the world. Still the man with sharp eyes and tighter control. But here, with her?

He was soft. Unmade. Owned.

The city lights glimmered around them, wrapping them in gold and shadow, but Aaron had eyes only for her.

And just as her fingers brushed the hollow of his throat, he murmured - low, wrecked, already hardening again beneath her thighs:

“You know you’re torturing me, right?”

She just smiled.

They were perfectly matched. Freak for freak. Control for control. Pleasure for pain.

And he wouldn’t have it any other way.

taglist: @writingsbytee @venusincleo @nickidub718 @notapradagurl7 @ms-mosley-ifunastyyy @wildcardmelaninfreak

comments and reblogs are appreciated as well as feedback, i hope you liked it 🫶🏾🫶🏾🫶🏾

[unholyxthoughts]

Annie: “They gave me the willies.”

Stack: “Yeah, well, Crackers at night time will do that to you.”

😂😂😂😂

[unholyxthoughts]

Tag Me In ( part one )

Modern!AU Smoke x Annie

- Shea Buttah Bakery Masterlist - sounds // When You Touch Me - Brandy - warnings - smut, explicit language, there's filth in here - -

Annie was in a bad way today.

Her poor vibrator sat atop her blanket worn out, on its final bit of glint from the last try. She had turned to her side and moved on to watching one of her favorite youtube shows. In this episode, the group was discussing which appetizer was the worst, yet her pussy was leaking between her cheeks as if it were something much more salacious. Her legs squirmed beneath the covers, unable to keep still as she laughed at them joke on each other more than they discussed the actual topic. 

She fell back with a heavy, frustrated sigh, wondering why her hormones had to kick in while she was home alone. And, even more, what she was gonna do about it. Especially since she had already made herself cum three whole times with not an ounce of relief in sight. In the midst of near hysteria, she was notified that someone was coming into the garage. She squealed after looking at her phone. A few short seconds later, the remedy walked through their bedroom door. 

“What happened?”

“Stack canceled. His lazy ass wanna do it next week now.” 

“Oh, wow. Your brother’s a trip.”

“Yeah. I heard Sammie in the background, too, so I’m sure that’s what really changed his plans. They’ll be up to no good pretty soon.”

“You know, I always did like Sammie.”

He chuckled, disappearing into the bathroom. A few moments later, he came out in his undershirt and boxer briefs. “You wanted me home, huh?”

“Hell yeah. Come here.” 

The way her tongue ran softly over her lips while her eyes took in every bit of him, he already knew what type of time she was on. It was confirmed when he saw the toy lying behind her. 

“What you been in here doing?” He grinned slyly.

“Nothing.” She was grinning herself as she lied. 

“Don’t look like nothing.”

“Whatever I did, I still need you.”

He was immediately taken by the pretend innocence in those big, brown eyes. “Yeah?” 

She nodded. “Mhm.”

He came closer and picked the vibrator up, turning it on. He switched through every speed before stopping on the highest one. Internally, she was celebrating, as guaranteed satisfaction wasn't too far away. But then he switched it off, put it down in front of her, and, most concerning, backed away. “First, show me what you be doing when I’m not here.” 

Annie’s stomach dropped, taking her smile with it. Though he’d seen, touched, and tasted just about every part of her, this made her nervous for some reason. Maybe because she’d only ever done it by herself? She was on the way into her head when he grabbed her chin and made her look at him, lovingly brushing his fingers down her cheek. 

“Go ‘head, baby, don't be shy. I got you.”

Feeling just slightly reassured, she went over onto her elbow. The lump in her throat went down a lot easier than her hand did under the blanket. Then he pulled it back and took away her last bit of comfort, revealing her panties down beside her. But, before she could react, they were against his face getting a long, deep sniff. 

“Smoke! Oh my god.” She couldn't help but laugh at him groaning with closed eyes. Like her drawers were the most delicious scent he'd ever had the privilege of smelling. “You are so nasty.”

He winked at her and grinned, throwing them back onto the bed. 

Reminded that there was nothing for her to feel unsure about, that this was her man and it wasn’t possible for her to be any safer, she turned her body to face him head on and propped herself up on a pillow. If he wanted a show, she was gonna give him one. 

“Ok. That's what I’m talkin’ ‘bout,” he rejoiced, rubbing his hands together and making her giggle even more. 

She unabashedly slid her fingers between her lips and closed her eyes. That was just her way of doing things. But he had different plans.

“Nah, mama. Eyes on me.”

She took a deep breath and gladly bent to his will, spreading her legs while her hand slipped around in her wetness. She gazed through her thighs at him and bit her lip. His sexy ass smolder always sent her over the edge, but watching him watch her was turning her on in a way she hadn't expected. She’d never considered voyeurism to be her cup of tea, but now that she was in it, she only had one complaint. Her fingers weren't going to be enough. 

She picked up the vibrator and started it on the lowest speed. The corner of his lips went up into a satisfied grin. As anticipated, her helper added a thrill that her hand just couldn't match as she pushed it over her clit. She brought one of her knees up to her chest, her breathing starting to quicken. She was in a groove. A moan spilled from her throat like a sultry melody. His favorite song.

“There you go.”

Smoke came closer, hungrily licking his lips, dimples deep enough to drown in. She liked the hell out of this. Any doubts she might've had before had since turned to titillation. He wouldn't have to tell her again to look at him, because she was locked in. Her hips rolled as she surrendered to the sparks igniting the fire between her thighs, her moans pouring out. He had a fire of his own rising as he witnessed her lose control with her eyes set on him. Overcome, she grabbed her titty and sucked it into her mouth. It was so hard for him not to touch her, but he could do this all day. Taking in the fullness of her body, her deep brown skin thoroughly moisturized, big titties falling from the top of her shirt. Beauty paled in comparison to what she was. And all she wanted was him.

“Feel good?”

“Yeah,” she whispered, squeezing her soaked nipple between two fingers. “Mmmm.”

“Open up, fat cat. Let me see.”

She reached down and spread herself wide. He smiled and leaned in to get a better view, blowing delicately on her pussy before his ascent. She gasped. The breeze flowing against her slippery skin sent a chill through her entire body. She pushed the vibrator against her clit and held it there. She was done. His arms, his chest in that tank top, the thickness. The achingly sensual tone of his voice. The way his dick was running out of space in his underwear. All of it was driving her crazy. She needed to release. 

Her mouth fell open and, for the first time since they’d started, her eyes left him. As they rolled, her head followed, tipping back on the pillow she’d now sunken deeper into. Watching her fight—and fail—to keep enough composure to hold her head up, hearing her beg sweetly for him with almost every breath she took, was doing him in. Like her, he wasn't gonna last too much longer.

“Smoke,” she called, desperately.

“Yeah, baby?”

“Please touch me.”

He didn't need to hear her say it again. He started at her knee and gently led his hand down to her inner thigh. Eye to eye with her once more, he gave the softness a light squeeze, then her hips went completely still. 

He smiled. “Oooh. This my part right here.”

A heavy crease hit her brow and he saw her pussy start to ripple. He swore he could feel it pulsing against his dick. Mesmerized, he leaned in just as a thick bead of her nectar dripped out, hanging on to the edge. 

“Goddamn. Make a mess for me, mama.”

“Fuuuuuck.” Her head slumped back and he grabbed her other thigh, kneading his fingers into them both. 

“Mhm. I wanna see that pretty pussy all over these sheets.”

She shrieked and the waves began to ripple faster. The muscles in her thighs were flexing hard against his hands. He licked his lips, watching her leak onto their bed just as he’d asked. She looked up at him, chest heaving, her cries reaching an octave he didn’t have the strength to ignore. 

He let her go and started to jump up and down, stretching his neck from side to side like a fighter waiting for his chance in the ring. “Shit, that’s enough.” 

Annie drifted out of ecstacy and right into a laugh, where he had his palm out toward her, still jumping. “…You foolish.”

“Tag me in, girl. It's my turn.”

@blackerthings @judymfmoody @lyrarodriguez @fendionmyfeet @fadingbelieverexpert @chaneajoyyy @astoldbychae @hotgrlcece @daddiespamm @lovethecheri @xo-goldengirl @miyuhpapayuh @buttrflybby @jiminie-08 @queengodiva619 @soufcakmistress @shiania @motheroffae @savagemickey03 @infinity2 @uhhh-nunyabidniz-heaux @deepinmydaydream @queenofklonnie22 @irefusetobeacasualty @honestlyurslol @bigjh @katezy2x @brownskincheyenne @shamansha @championshipshade @summrsovrinterlude @freelandgoddess @margepimpson @orchidwonder @lizbehave @spicypiscesssss -taglist-

[unholyxthoughts]

Piece of me

Summary: Smoke’s back in town with a new woman and plans to settle. It’s been seven years since he left you behind, and he doesn’t know what he really walked away from. But you do—every single day.

Pairing: Dad! Protective! Lover! Smoke x Mother of his child! Guarded! Black! reader

WC: 4.1k

Warnings: swearing, secret child, ruined engagement, emotional cheating (if you squint), SMUT. MDNI

@rolemodelshit here’s your request!

Smoke comes into town, ready to settle down. He bought a house in a quaint, rural area of the delta. A three bedroom house fit for him and his old lady, the two of them were as happy as could be. He met her in Chicago and she came with him back down to the delta, arm in arm.

You hadn’t seen smoke in years, seven approximately. The only reason you kept track was because of the daily reminder that he left behind—Layla. You found out you were pregnant shortly after smoke ended things. The last argument between you two still rings in your ears. You yelling, him cussing, the tears falling and your heart breaking a way it never had before.

You two had a complicated relationship, always making your way back to eachother— but not that time. He slammed the door and didn’t look back. You accepted it, no matter how hard it broke you— even after you found out you were pregnant. You made everyone swear to keep it a secret, even Annie and Mary. They knew how things were and understood your reasoning.

Once he left, you fought to keep him out of your mind. He didn’t deserve a space there, you had more important things to worry about and if he ever cared then he would come back to you— at least that’s what you thought.

Layla seldom asks about her daddy and if she did, you were always stumped on what to tell her. She looks just like him, he couldn’t deny her— even if he wanted to.

You and Layla have a simple life, nothing too fancy— just something fit for both of you. Your routine consisted of the same thing— wake up, eat, clean, work on things you had to do, play with Layla, dinner and bedtime. The only time it changed was if you went to the store or to someone’s house. Other than that, it is very mundane and considered boring to most.

Today, was like any ordinary day. You sat outside on the porch, shucking corn and Layla running around the yard.

“Layla, please be careful!” You yell as she gets the edge of the yard.

“Yes, mama” Layla laughs, running around in the yard chasing butterflies.

While shucking you realize that you need a few last minute things from the store, so you grab Layla and make your way to Bo’s store.

Layla stands outside the store playing with some kids, while you go inside. You push the door open and the bell jingles above you, you grab a basket and start your shopping. Bo sees you and waves, he doesn’t speak like he usually does and he has a funny look on his face. You wave back not putting much thought into it.

You bend down near one of the shelves looking for pickled garlic and can’t seem to find it. You read over everything on the shelf multiple times and just as you’re about to give up, you see a hand in your face holding the garlic— a deep voice to go along with it.

“Is this what you looking for?”

You take the jar and turn around smiling.

“Thank yo—“

You stop in your tracks, almost forgetting what you were even saying. Smoke is standing behind you, eyeing you. You’re unsure of what to say, a million things racing through your mind. Your hand shakes while holding the jar, your nerves completely wrecked from seeing him. Before you can say anything, a woman walks over to smoke— wrapping her arm around him.

“Honey, you ready to go?” She asks.

He taps her hand, not looking at her— still keeping his focus on you.

“Just give me, one minute. I’ll meet you at the car.”

She smiles and walks out of the door to car, glancing back to see what was going on.

“How are—“

“Who’s she?” You point, interrupting smoke.

He stands there, almost like he’s debating on how to answer you.

“She’s my fiancé, Robyn”

You feel a piece of your heart die off when he uttered those words.

“Congratulations—“

“I have to go, it was nice seeing you.” You say in a rush.

Smoke grabs your arm.

“Wait, now just hold on.”

But before the conversation can continue Layla runs in wrapping her arms around your waist.

“It’s hot outside mama.”

Smoke lets go of you and just stares.

You don’t even bother buying your items, you just sit the basket on the ground and rush out of the door. You grab Layla’s hand and start walking down the sidewalk, hoping that this wouldn’t turn into something.

Smoke is chasing behind you.

“Woman, stop right now.” He demanded with a southern drawl.

Smoke approaches both of you and you bend down talking to Layla.

“Cover your ears and sing your song for mama, okay?”

She nods and starts loudly singing a blues song she heard.

Smoke points at Layla with a pissed look on his face.

“Is she mine?”

Your lip quivers and you let out a sigh, not responding.

“Is that little girl mine!?”

You shake your head yes.

Smoke steps back from you, covering his mouth. You feel awful when you see the look on his face, you hurt him.

You hold back tears.

“I’m sorry..”

“Sorry? I have a baby girl and you don’t even tell me. All you can say is sorry?”

Robyn starts approaching the two of you.

“Is everything okay?”

He nods, grabbing her hand to walk away.

You grab Layla’s hand and continue to walk home, you feel like you’ve messed up big time.

You get home, feed Layla, clean her up and get her to bed. You could’ve never imagined that your day would go like this, that smoke would be back in your life. Opening up a chapter that you worked so hard to seal and keep closed.

More than anything you were worried for Layla, not that smoke wouldn’t be a good father— but a father and step-mother all in a day? It’s a lot to take in. She also has auntie Mary and her uncle stack. You won’t keep her from his side of the family, but you’d be lying if you said you weren’t worried about splitting time with smoke.

You lit a candle and sit down in a chair, sipping on some of the corn liquor you had stashed. You never knew when you would drink it, but now was the perfect time. You gulp down most of it, just to take the edge off.

You hear footsteps on the porch, you don’t even bother getting up to check— you know it’s Elijah.

You open the door and see him leaning against the wooden railing.

“So, why didn’t you say anything?” He immediately questions you.

You pick at your nails, looking down.

“You left, Elijah. You were done and I couldn’t change that. I didn’t want to ruin things for you.” You stammered.

He lets out a huge sigh.

“My child could never ruin things for me.”

His statement gives you a slither of comfort, knowing that Layla will always be in good hands.

He starts to pace the porch, smoking on a cigarette.

“Who does she think her father is?” He hissed.

You shrug, feeling ashamed.

“She doesn’t ask often, but if she did then we would change topics.” You reply.

“Does she know any of our family?” He questions.

“Yes, of course. She knows her Aunt Annie and her Aunt Mary, she’s met Sammie, Cornbread and Slim gave her a harmonica.”

His brows furrow, he did not like what you said.

“The fuck!— they knew about her?!?” He shouts, exhaling on the cigarette.

You put your hand out, trying to calm him down.

“Before you start getting in everybody’s ass over this, it was my decision. I told them and they respected it, be mad at me.”

He hesitates to ask, worried about your response.

“Did stack know?”

You immediately shake your head, reassuring him.

“No. I never told him, I wouldn’t do that to you and Mary swore to me that she wouldn’t say anything.”

He stomps out his cigarette and looks like he’s on the verge of tears.

“You should’ve told me.” He mumbled as he walks off the porch, getting into his car and driving off.

You wake up bright and early the next morning, getting Layla ready for the day. She hates when she has to get her hair done, so you normally bribe her and say that you’ll make pancakes. She doesn’t know that it’s an excuse, because you also want pancakes.

Today, she has on a yellow dress— with a white ribbon around the waist, two pigtails and white sandals. You can’t help but smile at her, she’s the best part of you. Mary bought the dress for her a while ago, but she had to grow some more before it fit properly.

She squirms in her seat, humming as she eats her pancakes, sausage and eggs. You pour her another glass of orange juice and set it down on the table. She hasn’t even met smoke and she has mannerisms like him, you gave birth to her— but she’s every part of him.

There’s a faint knock at the door, Layla paying no attention to it and devouring her food. You get up and make your way to the door, opening it. Smoke is standing there with a bouquet of daisies in his hand. You wipe your hands on your apron, taking in how good he still looks.

“Goodmornin.” He nods.

“Mornin.”

You stand there in the doorway, fidgeting with your cross necklace.

“Can I meet her?”

You nod yes. You would’ve liked a warning, but you knew smoke would just show up and ask.

“Just give me a minute.”

You walk over to the table and get Laylas attention, wiping the syrup from around her mouth.

“I want you meet someone.”

Layla grabs your hand as you lead her to the door.

Smoke’s face lights up when he sees her, he bends down— handing her the flowers.

“These are for you.”

Layla grabs them and giggles, still holding your hand.

“This is your father” you say to Layla, feeling weird that those words even came out of your mouth.

You’re worried about Layla’s reaction or if she’ll understand.

Layla drops your hand and runs to hug smoke, wrapping her arms around him.

“Papa!”

He picks her up and holds her close, tears in his eyes. You feel so awful for denying him this for years, you should’ve told him. He is meant to be a father.

You watch as smoke walks around the yard with her, already a pro at it. It was like Layla knew he was her dad all along, she doesn’t question it at all. Normally, getting her to talk to someone she doesn’t know is like pulling teeth— but she’s immediately talking his ear off.

Smoke is outside with Layla all day. He’s given her multiple piggy- back rides, she’s had him singing her favorite song, she’s asked him a million different questions and they’ve played hide and seek. You made dinner while they played outside— smothered pork chops, rice, green beans and bread. When smoke finally comes in with Layla, she’s passed out. The girl is exhausted, sleeping in his arms and drooling on his shirt.

“Where’s her room?” He asks.

You point to the bedroom on the left as you set a plate for him on the table.

He takes her into her room and tucks her in, leaving her door cracked open.

“I made you a plate, in case you were hungry.” You suggest.

“Thank you.” He replies, as he sits at the table with you.

“It smells good and looks even better.”

You were too busy eating, not paying attention.

“What?”

Smoke stares at you, looking you up and down. Almost like he wants to say something else.

“The food.”

“Oh, thank you. It’s nothing special, really.” You grin.

“Don’t do that.”

“Do what?” You question him, drinking your lemonade.

“Don’t put yourself down, even if it’s just your cooking.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize that it would ruffle your feathers. It’s just how I talk.” You acknowledge.

Smoke gets up taking his plate to the sink.

“You’re just too good of a woman to be talking like that. I don’t like it.”

A silence lingers after he says that. A silence on both sides. Your heart flutters in your chest like it did the day you met him, he’s the only man you’ve ever truly loved— but that ship has sailed.

Smoke sits back down at the table.

“So, what will you tell Robyn?” You ask, fidgeting with your fork.

He stares at you blankly.

“I’ll tell her that I have a daughter. Nothing else to say.”

“Elijah, how well do you think that’s going to go?—“

“I don’t know her, but I figure that she didn’t accept your proposal thinking that you would have a child pop up.” You remind him.

“Hm.” He replies back, more of a grunt than a reply.

“You seeing anybody?” He pries, changing the subject.

You let out a chuckle.

“No, there wasn’t anyone around here that I wanted.” You respond.

“There still isn’t?”

You grin and walk your plate over to the sink, trying not to let what he’s saying take root in you.

“I want stack to meet her.” He announces, leaning back in the chair.

You clean your plate in the sink, your back turned to smoke.

“That’s fine.”

“Tomorrow? Maybe we can have dinner again.” He suggests.

“Uh, yeah. That’s fine with me.”

You set the plate down in the sink and wipe your hands with a rag.

Smoke approaches you and gives you a hug, which you didn’t expect at all. You hug him back.

“Thank you for letting me meet her.”

“You don’t have to thank me. She’s your daughter too.”

The hug lasts too long, like he doesn’t want to let you go.

You pull away, trying not to make it more obvious what’s going on. You walk smoke to the door and watch him get in his car and back out of the driveway.

You lay in your bed and all you can think about is him, wondering if he felt the same way about you. You’re no longer angry about him leaving, but sad at what things could’ve been— what he missed out on.

All day, Layla has asked about “papa”— she’s only been away from him several hours and misses him tremendously. You tried to keep her busy as you prepare dinner, letting her know that papa was coming back— but she wasn’t having it. Just as you finish cooking, there was a knock at the door.

Layla screams, face soaking wet from tears and following right behind you.

“I want papa.”

You open the door and without paying hesitation, she runs right into stacks arms.

“Papa..” she sobs.

“Oh, my.” Stack laughs

We all laugh, she pays no attention to smoke for the first few minutes. Smoke hands you the flowers he brought and shakes his head.

They get inside and stack is still holding her, she’s calmed down now. She plays with his mustache and you can tell that’s he’s not used to this. She notices smoke standing to the side and looks at stack, then looks at smoke again— she’s completely confused.

Stack grins, fixing her dress.

“I’m your uncle stack.”

She starts pouting and the tears start coming, she holds her hands out for smoke and goes into his arms.

“Papa’s here.” Smoke reassures Layla, rubbing her back.

You shake your head.

They sit down at the table, you fix everyone’s plates then sit down yourself.

Layla hums while eating, completely in her own world.

“So, that’s my niece?” Stack asks, chuckling like he can’t believe it.

“In the flesh.” You respond.

“She’s adorable.”

“That she is.” Smoke responds, leaning over and wiping Layla’s mouth.

You hesitate, but decide to ask anyway.

“Did you tell Robyn?”

Stack and smoke glance at each other, stack sips his lemonade.

“No, I ended things with her.” Smoke answers.

You look up from your plate, shocked.

“You what?” You gasp.

“It wasn’t gonna work.”

You sit there, not sure what to make of that.

Layla finishes some of her food and starts rubbing her eyes.

“Papa, I’m tired.”

Smoke moves her plate and scoots back in his chair.

There’s car headlights beaming through the window and someone laying on the horn, all of you look at each other concerned. Smoke waves you over to grab Layla, they both jump up— hands on their guns and open the door to see what’s going on.

They open the door and it’s Robyn, she’s hysterical. Stack sucks his teeth and glances at smoke.

“I followed you—“

“Wondering what’s got you acting so funny and what do I know, you end up at some whores house.”

Stack chimes in.

“Robyn, sweetheart you need to leave.”

“Shut the fuck up Stack!” She rages.

You hold Layla in your arms hoping that she would be still and fall asleep, but all the commotion keeps her awake. She starts squirming out of your arms, running to smoke.

She wraps her arms around smokes leg, hiding.

Robyn sees her and sees you approach behind him. She clutches her chest.

“You had a bastard child, is that why you left?” She laughs.

“Excuse me?” You respond, pissed off at that comment.

Stack grabs Layla, picking her up and walking back into the house.

Smoke points his finger, running off the porch towards Robyn. He’s angry.

“Don’t you ever speak about a child of mine that way.” He corrects her with an extremely southern drawl.

Smoke grabs Robyn’s arm, bringing her to the drivers side of the car and they have a heated conversation. You couldn’t hear what was said, but she was leaving crying harder than when she came.

Stack walks beside you.

“She fell asleep, I tucked her in.”

You turn and hug him.

“Thank you.”

He nods, with a grin as usual.

“You don’t have to thank me. I’ll do anything for my niece and for you.”

Smoke comes back on the porch, looking at you and looking for Layla. You point inside the house, whispering.

“She’s asleep.”

Y’all walk in the house and you wrap their plates for them to take with them. Stack hugs you again, before heading out to the car.

You hand Elijah his plate as he stares at you.

“Please bring my plate back.” You giggle.

“I will.”

He hugs you, kissing you on the forehead. You pull back and your eyes meet each others, staring for too long. He leans in kissing you, the kiss was something you had craved for so long. He sets his plate on the table and wraps his arm around your waist. The kiss is long, passionate and well overdue.

You pull away, before things get too far. You just aren’t sure that you two are meant to be together.

You stand there not sure what to say and he doesn’t say anything. He grabs his plate, nods and leaves out the door.

Dinner didn’t go the way you planned, but it ended on a better note than you could’ve expected.

You lay in bed, tossing and turning. Mind going millions of miles per hour, memories flooding back, old feelings rising up. Elijah ended his engagement for you, he’d do anything for you. Maybe some part of you is still struggling to accept that things can work.

In the middle of you thinking about that, you hear a tap at your window. You jump up, startled. It’s the middle of the night, who could be showing up? You see Elijah standing there in the rain, you run to the front door—opening it.

“Elijah, what—“

He walks past you into the house, interrupting your question.

“I can’t stop thinking about ya. I love you and I can’t stand here pretending that I don’t. I never did stop loving you. We started a family and I want us to do this together. I don’t want you to move on or find someone else.”

You stare at him, your heart beating fast. This was all you needed to hear.

You kiss him, like you’re scared you would lose him again.

He looks into your eyes, holding your face.

“I can’t go through life without you. I can’t.”

You melt all over again, tears in your eyes.

He kisses your neck, slow and passionate. Your hand on the back of his head, leaning against the kitchen table.

You move from the table and guide him to your bedroom, he slams the door behind him as y’all stumble in.

“Sorry.” He grins.

Y’all fall on the bed, trying not to laugh.

He pulls down the sleeves of your nightgown. Staring at you, completely topless and nipples hard. A sight he always loved.

He sucks on your neck and moves his hand, swirling his finger around your nipple. Moving his head downwards, leaving kisses.

He licks your nipples teasing you, then putting it in his mouth on one as his fingers swirl the other.

You loosen his belt, completely pulling it off. Trying hard to stay focused, but what he’s doing feels so good.

He stops focusing on you and unbuttons his pants, you pull your nightgown off.

His dick hard, harder than you’ve ever seen. You bite your lip, ready for him to take you. He rubs his hands over your body, taking in a sight that he hadn’t seen in years.

“You know what to do.” He groans

You move into the center of the bed, bending over and completely arching your back. He comes behind you, smacks your ass and lines himself up. He runs his tip along your entrance, making you bury your head into your pillow to hide your moans.

He pushes the tip in and slowly pushes the rest in, inch by inch.

“Elijah.” You gasp.

“Shit.” Smoke mutters.

He grabs your hips and starts slowly thrusting in and out of you with long and slow strokes, making you remember every inch of him. You can feel your pussy stretching, trying to get used to him again.

Once you’re used to it after the first few strokes, he starts fucking you the way like.

He slaps your ass, watching it bounce back on his dick.

“Oh, I missed you.” He groans.

“Don’t stop.” You moan.

His fingers rub your shoulder.

“Can I?” He asks.

You nod your head.

He grabs a fistful of your hair and starts fucking the shit out of you. He loves pulling your hair and fucking you like this.

“Smoke, fuck.” You moan, barely able to form a sentence.

You start clenching around him, he’s hitting the right spot.

“That’s it sweetheart, you cum for me.” He demanded, the southern accent coming out during this.

“Fuck yes!”

“Oh.”

You do exactly as he demanded and cum all over his dick, the orgasm feels never ending. His breaths become short and quick.

“Shit, mama.”

“I’m gonna—“

He thrusts one last time into you, ropes of his cum fill you. He lets go of your hair and you both stay in that position, trying to catch your breath.

He slowly pulls out of you and collapses on the bed beside you, pulling you closer to him.

He looks at you, pushing your hair out of your face.

“I want you to know that I’m not going anywhere. I won’t leave you like that again. I already know that you’re going to ask.” He reassures you.

A smile comes across your face, because that is exactly what you were thinking.

You lay your head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat and hearing him breathe. You don’t have to look after a few minutes because you can tell he’s asleep.

You close your eyes to get some sleep as well before Layla wakes up.

6 months later..

Your relationship with Elijah has continued to blossom ever since that night he came to you. He said he wouldn’t leave and he didn’t, he moved you into his house and put your name on the deed.

You two made the jump and got married two months after you rekindled things. You can’t imagine your life without him, now that he’s back in it.

All of your friends and family were there at the wedding. Slim was the officiant for the wedding, stack bribed him with some beer from Chicago. Cornbread and Therise, with their son Jacob. Mary and stack were there— Mary helped you get dressed despite being exhausted due to the pregnancy. Sammie and Unlce Jed, who lectured stack on his scheming ways. Bo and Grace chow, helping with the food. Annie, being your maid of honor. Layla being spoiled by the family and being a flower girl, she had to be convinced by Mary to do it . It was truly one of the best days of your life.

Layla is a full on daddies girl, practically attached to smoke. He is wrapped around her finger and just seeing him with her, makes you want to give him more babies.

This was the life you dreamed of. Your heart is full beyond words and you are happy.

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗