Chapter Text
(1)
He didn’t need an introduction to know something at the Cameron’s estate had changed. It was in the magnetic force that surrounded the family like a black hole where everything stayed stagnant – safe. So, when the subtle winds of Kiara Carrera swayed the eggshell curtains, traces of strawberry haunted the air, and left the seat beside Sarah’s spot at the formal dining table slightly crooked, he knew there was a hurricane on its way.
And that piqued the highest of interest in Rafe Cameron.
When he was finally, and formally, introduced to Kiara, he recognized her as the girl in his AP Bio who always had something to say about the environmental efficiency of the labs being set up. Of course, this would be the girl Sarah would call her new best friend.
Kiara moved through the Camerons’ lives intentionally gauchely, she made it clear that she didn’t care for vapid social niceties that dictated Rafe’s entire life. Having a new partner in crime amused Sarah, knowing that she had a literal right-hand woman who shared the same values as her. No longer was Sarah Cameron the self-proclaimed social pariah at the dinner table. Rafe laughed at her penchant for self-victimization, Sarah was the favorite and never cared to see it.
“I don’t see how that’s going to solve anything sweetie.” Ward lifted the glass of wine to his lips.
“You’re thinking of it as a big picture thing Ward, it’s all about working collectively in a smaller unit before you can see the benefits on the scale that you’re imagining,” Kiara had said back, ignoring that Rafe’s father had been talking to Sarah.
Her blatant disrespect involuntarily caused Rafe’s right hand to clench into a fist, but his pulse soared differently than the typical anger coursing through his body – no, this time he felt an electric need to devour her.
This wasn’t an unfamiliar feeling for Rafe but an unwelcomed one. He knew this feeling all too well and knew what it meant; he had found a new addiction.
So began his self-disciple in taking Kiara Carrera in manageable doses. Much to his father’s chagrin, he dropped AP Bio and switched to Classics. If Sarah was home, Rafe made certain he would be out. That lasted all about a week.
A creak sounded behind Rafe who stood on the back deck, he casually put out his cigarette by tossing it onto the grass, ready to hear whatever his father would criticize him for today.
“There’s an ashtray right next to you.”
He turned his head slightly to see Kiara frowning at his hands, “That’ll probably leech into the Yellowfin tuna you love so much.”
“Your anti-smoking propaganda is lacking its target audience,” Rafe moved his back to rest on the barrister.
“Do we really need to go over the plethora of possible health complications?” Kiara quirked a brow at him.
“Don’t care about that either,” he observed her shamelessly. Taking in the way her brown hair looked almost golden in the sunset, a crease formed between her eyebrows that Rafe had no business thinking about gently smoothing out with his hands.
“You should,” she stated indefinitely.
“Maybe.”
Kiara looked past him, to the ocean which set the tone for the conversation, an incessant roar of the waves crashing to the shore that took up the space in their silence.
“You’re not in Bio anymore,” Kiara stated.
“Didn’t think you’d notice,” Rafe ignored the swell in his chest, “You’d be too busy with your crusade.”
“I can multitask,” she moved no closer to him but Rafe could feel her heat emanating off her, “You’re avoiding me.”
Rafe cocked his head to the side, “Now why would I do that?”
Kiara shrugged and his eyes follow the movement of her décolletage, Rafe swallowed tersely. “You tell me.”
Before he could make a fool of himself Sarah stuck her head through her bedroom window upstairs and let out a little what are you doing down there?! to Kiara, making Rafe’s head spin thinking about how she had been seeking him out.
Kiara leaves, the breeze from her much stronger and the scent of strawberries all that more nauseating, so Rafe lit another cigarette.
(2)
The girl grips his hair with iron strength, keeping Rafe placed between her thighs which he gleefully obliges like an altar to worship. He steals a glance up and sees her face twisted in pleasure, the eyebrows knitted causes his dick to jump and his mind to remember why he’s here.
The party continues in the background but Rafe’s entire concentration is on the girl. Trying to make her look as much like her as possible. While he closes his eyes, he imagines the saccharine scent of strawberries. She looked enough like Kiara after the five shots Topper pushed into his chest with a roar. And with the dimmed light, he could even imagine the mole on Kiara’s left arm as Rafe kissed up her body.
Tonight had been a good night. In his recent endeavors to find someone like Kiara to hit the spot, this lookalike had been the closest he had imagined to her. He believed in that moment that he finally had Kiara Carrera out of his system.
So when he stepped into the apex of the party, his eyes naturally gravitated to the couch where Kiara was on. It was instinctually now, to find her, or pieces of her, wherever he went. He told himself it wasn’t even on purpose but conditioning himself to find lookalikes to fill the void had its consequences.
He didn’t spot Kiara immediately, only when the guy she was with trailed his lips to leave open-mouthed kisses on her neck did Rafe catch her orbit. Her mouth opened in a gasp and her hands moved to the blonde’s shoulders. It took every bit of sanity in Rafe to not rip out the wires to the sound system so he could hear the sounds Kiara was making, it would be the authentic symphonies, not the counterfeit that he drowned himself in. He cursed her infinitely for this torture.
Maybe she could feel his eyes boring into her because her eyes shot open, half-lidded and lazy, staring directly at him. Rafe’s mouth went dry when her eyes stayed on him and her lips lifted into a secret smile, only for him to see.
He didn’t sleep all night, his mind and hands too occupied with the girl who tore through his subconsciousness with chaos.
(3)
This was a fantasy of his that only occurred in the most depraved state of desperation but here it lay, in real life and not in his daydream.
“Shit, sorry,” Kiara moves off his bed and scrambles to stand up, “Sarah said you’d be out tonight.”
Rafe’s voice comes out hoarse, “What are you doing in my bed, Kiara?”
He didn’t even mention the t-shirt she had on was one of his that she must’ve dug out from his wardrobe. It was comically large on her and he wanted it off of her, not to take the shirt back but as an excuse to have her completely.
For once they were surrounded in silence, no roar of the ocean, students in the hall, or music blasting through the walls. He could finally hear her in the dead of midnight.
“Sarah snores,” Kiara rounds the corner of the bed, “Reaaaally badly. I thought I could just—”
“Take over my room? What else do you need to take from my life?” Rafe stares past her at a charred piece of wood on his table from an incident involving candles with Topper getting ridiculously high.
“No! It – it was only for tonight, I didn’t mean to overstep,” Kiara nervously touches the hem of his t-shirt on her.
“There’s a guest room,” his voice comes out soft, only hitting her ears.
“You’re right.”
“That’s not an answer,” Rafe begins stalking towards her, Kiara takes a step back, “You took my room.”
“Like I said, Sarah told me—” Kiara’s eyes meet his with a challenge.
“Bullshit, Sarah didn’t tell you anything,” Rafe looks down at her, “because I didn’t tell her anything about being out tonight.”
Kiara lets out a gasp as her back hits the wall, all out of space.
“So, I’m going to ask you again,” Rafe lifts a hand and runs his calloused thumb over her jaw, “what are you doing in my bed Kiara?”
She stays silent and Rafe doesn’t mind, he takes this as an opportunity to unabashedly explore the softness of her skin. He can feel her body hum under his grip despite her best attempts to turn away from him.
Her lips fall open as he ever so slightly hardens his other grip on her hip. His voice is barely over a breath, “Be a good girl and tell me.”
He can see her jaw clench with apprehension, and he wants to tell her I will if you will. Because it really is that simple for him in that moment, he’ll let his guards down and be addicted if she’ll let him.
Instead, Kiara pushes him back and Rafe stays glued in that spot, allowing Kiara to step aside him and leave his room.
Two days later he sees Kiara hanging up a poster for the Beach Spring-Cleaning event, it’s not the fact she’s on the ladder with her legs stretched that catches his eyes but rather the shirt she’s wearing is his.
(4)
“Oh, come on!” Sarah groans into her phone, bringing it down to her face with a scowl.
As always, Rafe ignores her and moves towards the kitchen island for his can of Coke.
“She’s gotta be kidding me,” she gets up with a huff, “Rafe!”
“Whatever you’re going to ask, no.” Rafe puts up a hand and walks around her, Sarah follows him.
“It’s Kiara.”
(5)
Half an hour later Rafe finds himself in front of the Carrera’s home. He leans his forearm on the wheel glancing down to send a text to Kiara, the number supplied by his sister.
Rafe Cameron
Here.
Kiara Carrera
be out in a min!
At the sounds of the door opening, and the chorus of her parents reminding her to be careful, Rafe steps out of the driver’s seat to stand by the passengers and open the door for Kiara. She looks surprised at the gesture but quickly recovers and tosses her bag into the back seat.
The silence during the drive is broken by Kiara clearing her throat at a red light.
“Thank you for picking me up,” she keeps her eyes trained on the cars passing by. She takes up the entire space of the car with her sheer energy, bright and effervescent.
“Sarah said your car broke down,” Rafe gives in and looks at her, Kiara hitting his eyes fully instead of the shadows he’s been used to giving himself. He takes in her hands folded neatly on her lap, poised and in control.
“I would’ve used my parent’s car, but they need it for loading day at The Wreck,” she explains and taps on her phone.
“How convenient for you,” he draws out slowly, she turns to look at him.
Her eyes roll, “I already said ‘thank you’ Rafe, you don’t have to be a douche about it.”
“Watch your mouth, Kiara,” he clicks his tongue, “almost forgot that you’re a Pogue.”
He wanted his words to hurt, they almost always do. Rafe had an innate talent for saying the wrong thing at the right time and creating unfavorable outcomes but Kiara merely smirks.
“And don’t you forget it Cameron.”
Rafe spins the wheel with one hand to take a right, Kiara reaches to turn the music up.
“I was waiting for you,” Kiara says nonchalantly, “I thought it was obvious.”
“How else were you going to get a ride to this pathetic save-the-world rally?” Rafe places his arm behind Kiara’s headrest to reverse into a spot to let her out. Already the silence they created is tainted by a collection of ‘activists’ screaming their deluded philosophies into a megaphone.
Kiara grabs her bag from the back and gets out of the car, leaning down on the open door to look at Rafe. He stares back with his eyebrows raised in a silent what; she beams at him, all teeth.
“Not today,” Kiara holds her smile, “that night.”
It takes less than a nanosecond for Rafe to realize what she meant, Kiara apparently sees this moment sink in and laughs. She laughs. Like this is a ridiculous punchline that he must see the humor in. Rafe is still in a state of shock as a car honks and the driver rolls down his window to yell at him to get out of the way, Kiara is long gone.
The middle finger Rafe throws up is half-hearted and he heads straight to Topper’s with a bottle of Jack.
(6)
“Kiara’s kinda hot,” Kelce tilts his head back to collect the last few drops in his White Claw. Rafe watches Sarah’s arms open in a dramatic gesture of her storytelling, Kiara’s eyebrows shoot up and her eyes gleam with entertainment.
Every so often the Camerons’ yacht would dip and rise resulting in a spray of water kissing the shoulders of the tanned girl. Kiara’s laughter cuts through Rafe’s shameless staring, luckily his sunglasses hide his direct line of vision.
The ball was in his court and he observes her with a feverous intensity, drinking up every movement to play out the scenarios where he could get what he wanted. She was a puzzle in vibrant greens and reds, unfortunately for Rafe, he could only see it in black and white. He wanted nothing and everything all at once, what he wanted from Kiara confused him, but he would drown in every moment he stole from her to figure it out.
“Don’t even fucking think about it,” Rafe bit back coolly, lacking a possessive tone since he knew that there was no need to exert more energy than needed. Rafe had spoken and Kelce would have to drop it immediately because, with such little words, Rafe had claimed Kiara as his own.
(7)
It had become an asylum for them, the back deck.
He thought it was fitting that it was hidden from everyone else but in plain sight. Neutral grounds where their war was not permitted to wage, a place for them to talk openly.
Rafe noticed her presence (how could he not) but stayed silent. Kiara found her place beside him, leaning her back on the column while Rafe’s arms are folded forward on the railing, her shoulders barely touching his. He kept his eyes on the ocean and she kept hers on him, waiting for him to speak.
“What are you doing after you graduate?” Kiara tosses at him, he moves to wrap his fingers around the wooden railing.
“Planning on being a groupie and following me around?” he says, warranting an eye roll from her.
“I thought we could have a civil conversation.”
“You and I don’t do civil,” Rafe catches her eyes on his hands, still gripping the railing.
“Really? What do we do then?” Kiara taunts.
“I’m not going to waste my time with you.”
“Hm, you say that but,” Kiara brings a finger up to her lips to imitate her thinking, “you sure do spend a lot of energy wasting it on me.”
This is what neutral grounds is for them, this is their peace; and it is war.
“You’re a leech Kiara,” Rafe bares his teeth at her, she doesn’t move back, “you’re here all the time and attached to Sarah like a fucking tumor. Of course, I can’t avoid you, I’m done trying.”
Kiara steps closer to him; her lips turned into a sneer. “You give up easily then, I’m not surprised.”
“What the fuck are you trying to do Kiara?” Rafe spits out in contempt, now they’re almost standing chest to chest.
“Proving you right,” Kiara brings her hand to brush some dust off his shoulders, it sends a chill down Rafe’s spine. He remembers distantly how Ward does that to him when he excuses his son’s behavior in silent contempt, the invisible blemish on Rafe’s shoulder being his entire existence.
He didn’t realize that his eyes were stuck on her hand still on his shoulders until she taps his cheek condescendingly and leaves. The blood pounding in his ears find a rhythm after a while and began sounding like a hundred voices shouting at him.
(8)
There are a million other places Rafe could’ve gone to. Hell, he could’ve gone home, but before he lost his nerve he was at her front door.
The cicadas hummed through the late May heat, there was a slight breeze that Rafe couldn’t be sure wasn’t just the swaying of his drunken body.
Kiara’s body comes into view in a blinding blur as the lights illuminate her silhouette.
“What are you doing here?” She hisses before looking around and grabbing his arm, pulling him into her home.
He is led down the hall to a dining room where she unceremoniously drops him into a seat, “You really have no manners Kie, you’re supposed to invite me in and offer me some cold beverage.”
Kiara mutters under her breath something too sharp for Rafe to pick up, especially with everything sounding like it’s underwater.
“Drink,” she says without any humor, sliding a cool glass of water towards him.
“Such a bitch,” Rafe tsks, “probably because you’ve been raised by those Pogues.”
“Shut up.” Kiara moves behind the island counter, her hands busy with some dishes.
“You probably let them touch you.” Rafe slurs, “Don’t you have any respect for yourself?”
Kiara gives a snort at that, “That’s the best you can do? Come here inebriated and slut-shame me?”
“So, it’s true?” His mind flashes back to the blonde he saw her with constantly outside of school. A lousy redneck piece of shit who couldn’t do anything for her, not like Rafe could.
“Don’t see how that’s any of your concern,” Kiara moves to put the plates away, “Get out Rafe, before my parents get home.”
Rafe reaches her before she could turn from the cabinet, his close proximity causes a glass to slip from her fingers and shatter on the hardwood floor.
“It is my concern when you’re playing this game to make me fucking obsessed with you,” Rafe pushed her back into the counter, the cool brass rings of the drawer digging into her hip.
“Is that what I’m doing?” She cocks her head innocently, “I thought we were just starting to become friends.”
“You and I will never be friends,” Rafe lowers his face to hers, and finally her breath trembles, gotcha. Whatever game of chicken she has been playing, she’s bound to lose. He presses closer, his lips a hair away from hers. “Stop this now or deal with whatever happens.”
“And if I say I can take it?” Kiara barely moves her lips for him to hear.
“You can’t.”
(9)
Ward Cameron wasn’t necessarily a present figure in Rafe’s life, but even in his absences, Rafe could feel the burden of responsibilities he neglected. He had seen less and less of his father over the past months which wasn’t strange, but it left him on edge waiting for the other shoe to drop once Ward would be back for good.
It was Midsummers when Ward found his way back home, a little bleary in his eyes. He breezed past Rafe which allowed the boy to let out a breath of relief for that moment. He could deal with that later but tonight he would celebrate.
“Bro!” Topper’s torso comes into view, he eagerly waves him over to the hall in which Rafe could hear Kelce spluttering while shotgunning a beer.
“Gideon’s been trying to find you all night,” Topper claps Rafe’s back in a greeting, “She wants the same shit you gave her on Friday.”
“It’s double this time, she didn’t pay for Friday,” Rafe reaches into the breast pocket of his black tuxedo and hands Topper a clear plastic ziplock that is coated in obvious bone-white dusting.
Rafe sinks into the couch and grabs a flute of champagne from the abandoned tray on the glass table.
His brief moment of peace is interrupted by his sister nudging his calf with the toe of her heels. “Dude, can you get two gin and tonics for me and Kie?”
“Get it yourself,” Rafe tosses the entire content of the glass back in his mouth in one gulp. He grabs another one.
“If I could I wouldn’t be asking you,” Sarah leans her hip on the couch, “Dad’s back so I don’t want to risk it.”
“I’m not your lapdog Sarah, you want something you go do it yourself.”
“I barely pass for 16, Rafe please.”
“I’m not going to encourage underage drinking.”
She sighs dramatically, “It’s miserable being here sober.”
Rafe reaches over and grabs two champagne flutes and hands them to his sister, Sarah narrows her eyes at him.
“Here, go crazy.”
“It’ll take like, ten glasses of this shit for us to even feel something.”
“Your fault for not pre-gaming,” Rafe takes back the flutes and drinks the contents of them in front of Sarah’s death glare.
“Kie wanted to raw dog this shit and now she’s changed her mind so can you be useful for once in your fucking life and get us some drinks?” Sarah slaps his hands from going to reach for a fifth glass.
“Nope.” Rafe pops the ‘p’ and leans forward to get up.
As he leaves, he hears Sarah go over to Topper with the same request. He takes the side door to go out into the garden, his hands already reaching in his pockets for his pack and a lighter. The cool brick wall behind him soothes his mind, as does the smoke in his lungs.
“Are you stalking me?” Kiara’s voice comes from behind the fountain. Rafe closes his eyes and wills his mind to convince himself that this is just a bad dream. “I would say I’m flattered but I’m really not, it’s just plain weird now.”
So, not a bad dream, just an awful reality.
“Shouldn’t you be bothering people for some alcohol?”
“Sarah’s on drink duty, I’m on contingency planning,” Kiara moves to sit in front of the fountain’s ledge, “So I decided on the next best thing – leaving the party completely.”
Rafe takes a long drag, the cherry glowing red in the dark. Kiara always looks like she doesn’t belong in his world but right now, with the water rushing behind her and the flowers intricately placed in her hair, it’s never been truer in that moment. Her hand dips into the fountain and she brings it up to inspect it in the soft light of the night and Rafe is certain that she accidentally found a place amongst mortals and the damned. Rafe was far from a moral man and Kiara belonged with the Gods. There was nothing more he wanted more than to drag her down to his level.
“My parents are happy I’m friends with Sarah,” she dips her hand back in, grazing the surface of the water, “they think she’s a positive influence. She’ll make me more of a Kook.”
It doesn’t slip past him the way Kook is said with scorn.
“You say that like it’s a death sentence,” Rafe’s eyes closes and he tilts his head back to rest on the bricks.
“Take a look around Rafe, that’s exactly what it is.”
He exhales the smoke in his lungs, “So you’d rather run away and hide?”
“Isn’t that exactly what you’re doing as well?”
Rafe mutters under his breath, “Pot meet kettle.”
Kiara catches that and stands up, dusting her hands off on her emerald green dress. The satin fabric glints – like a knife catching the light – with every sway she takes to stand beside Rafe. He lets out a sigh.
“Those will kill you,” and so Kiara plucks the cigarette delicately balanced between his index and middle finger, much to Rafe’s surprise she takes a drag before putting it out on the wall next to his shoulder. Her other hand comes up to his tie which she delicately fixes, before trailing down his arm to his hand.
For a second it’s tender when she opens his hand and fits her own in it. He takes a moment to appreciate the softness of her action, and how her skin feels against his rough hands – the contrast between softness and hardness. She turns his palm over and closes it, holding onto his fist.
“See you around Rafe.”
He’s back inside when he realizes that his fist had been closed that entire time, holding onto whatever shape Kiara folded him into. When he opens his hands, he sees the discarded cigarette butt.
Rafe has a feeling that Kiara Carrera will kill him faster than any other one of his vices.
(10)
He doesn’t trust himself to be around her alone anymore. Not because of what he might do but what she has done to him.
So Rafe finds himself in Charleston in a dingy club with strobing lights as the band performs. Trevor and Kelce are deep in the crowd with the local girls they found who were none the wiser that they had long-term girlfriends back in Outer Banks.
The coke in his system is already wearing off making him too aware of the thoughts he’s been trying to run away from.
He hates Kiara as much as he hates himself. He had never been this afraid to act on his impulse and wasn’t sure what made him hide away.
Was it that he didn’t want to fuck up something good in Sarah’s life?
No, he couldn’t care less about Sarah having another happy ending.
Was it because he cared about Kiara and didn’t want to hurt her with who he truly is?
No, he wanted to hurt her.
But he couldn’t bring himself to.
Not when she looked at him like a predator. He didn’t know what game she was playing but she was playing a game, that was made abundantly clear.
She locked him into a hollow shell of someone he wasn’t even.
Maybe he was wrong, the inevitable destruction that Kierra Carrera would cause on the Camerons wasn’t meant for the whole family but just for one member, him.
The heat from the people in the club gave a thin sheen of sweat on his forehead, his hair falling in front of his eyes. He takes his free hand, the one not nursing his beer, to run it through his hair and push it back.
“Fancy meeting you here.”
Speak— no scratch that – think of the devil.
Rafe has had enough at this point and he needs her out of his life. Kiara has on a too-short black dress to allude to her being mature enough to be in a place like this, her hair framing her face like a crown. She’s got that signature spark in her eyes that tells him she is up to no good, especially since that spark is ignited by the black eyeshadow that gives it that much more depth.
“Kiara I’m going to say this once and we’re never going to speak about it again,” Rafe brings his face to her level, making sure she can hear him clearly.
“Whatever you’re trying to do, go find someone else because,” if her eyes were fire, his were ice, “I’m never going to fuck you.” His eyebrows are firm and unrelenting, there’s no room for compromise here.
“You would be so lucky,” Kiara doesn’t miss a beat.
She snatches her arm from Rafe’s grip, one he didn’t even realize he had on her. Her doe eyes scan his face for something, and maybe she finds it or doesn’t because she is walking away. The heavy bass makes it impossible for him to think, the myriad of thoughts makes it impossible to think, Kiara’s slight glance back at him makes it impossible to think. So, he stops, he stops thinking altogether. He follows her.
The narrow hall she continues down is past the crowd, he would think that she’s running away except that he knows she isn’t, not anymore. The light flickers and he catches the barest of glimpse of her side profile and sees her biting her cheek from smirking.
Before they can reach the end of the hall, his hand wraps around her arm once more and he pulls her easily into an empty room. Before he can even get a breath, her lips are on his as she pushes him against the door. Her lithe hands sliding up his chest and to his neck where she lightly caresses before moving up to his jaw, Rafe bares his teeth and flips them around so she’s against the door causing a gasp to escape Kiara’s mouth. The silent surrender he takes advantage of almost immediately to run his tongue over her bottom lip.
Kiara pants into his mouth, “I fucking hate you.” Her hands pull him closer to her, her entire weight on him as if she would fall without him anchoring her.
Rafe snarls, “Lay down on the table.” His hand pushes her back and down, her back flat on the wood.
He lets his hands trail up the inside of her legs painstakingly slow with the lightest touch and she actually mewls.
“What was that?” He circles his thumb on the flesh of her inner thigh, “I didn’t quite catch that.”
“Are you going to make me beg?” Kiara’s voice is all air and breathy, he leans down to her face and she grabs his head and brings his lips to hers – running her fingers through his hair.
“I’ve thought about this too much,” he trails open mouth kisses down the middle of her chest, falling to his knees and pulling her to the edge of the table, “to do this wrong.”
Rafe’s senses are heightened more than any drug could do for him and he feels for once what people talk about when they say crimes of passion, the smog of lust is radioactive and killing him with every second he got closer to Kiara’s damp pussy.
Her fingers thread through his hair trying to bring him closer to where she needs him most.
“Tell me what you want baby,” he rests his cheek on her thigh, looking up at her already panting with anticipation. Her chest rising and falling with every second she’s giving into him, “tell me what you need, and I’ll give it to you.” He promises.
“Rafe,” she pleads, her eyes holding his with a fierceness that would make him tremble if he weren’t already on his knees for her. His hands run over the tops of her legs, hiking the dress up higher.
That’s all he needs before he’s pulling her panties to the side and running a wet stripe up her pussy. Her hands leave the grip she has on his hair to slap a palm over her mouth and Rafe won’t have it.
“None of that,” He shakes his head and moves his face back so he can reach over and drag Kiara’s fingers back to his hair. “Want to hear you.”
“Fuck,” Rafe’s mouth latches back onto her and her back lifts off the table into an arch once he finds her clit and draws out a tantalizing pattern, not giving her enough to be truly satisfied but enough to imagine how wonderful the release will feel.
“Tell me,” Rafe looks at her again, stubborn in all her glory. His thumb takes over and continues a pattern of hard circles around her clit. “You’ve always got some shit to say hmm?”
He pulls his hand back from where she needs it most and she groans for a split second before he’s inserting his index finger inside of her. Rafe’s left hand is free to trail up to her jaw as he pumps into her, his palm resting on her throat as his fingers lightly press on her carotid. Somehow, being here with his hand around her neck, fingers splaying easily to cover the area, he still doesn’t feel like he has the upper hand.
“Just—fuck,” Kiara is breathless and Rafe captures her lips, hungry for her words, “Keep going. Please.”
He intentionally curls his fingers up and hits the spot that makes her dig her nails into his back.
“You taste yourself on me?” His fingers move harder and faster in tandem with them pressing up, Kiara’s body following his movement. With his left hand still on her neck, he pulls his right one out of her and brings it to her mouth where she obediently takes his finger around her lips and swirls her tongue around it. “See, I knew you could be a good girl.”
“Fuck,” The hardness in his jeans aches for her but he needs to keep a distance for a little while longer, he can’t be the first to unravel. A groan from the back of his throat comes out as Kiara hums around his finger while looking up from her lashes. “You look so hot right now.”
“Do something about it then,” Kiara doesn’t need to spell it out before he’s back between her legs showing her what she gets for being good. His left hand stays on her hip, running it back and forth while the two fingers on his right hand resume their duty inside her pussy. Rafe devours her like he’s promised himself, taking no pause to breathe, a singular thought running through his mind: Kiara.
He can feel her tightening around his fingers but that does not slow him down. Rafe keeps the steady pace of hard licks and sucks around her throbbing clit before she’s yelling out – her voice drowned out by the crowd and the music, for once Rafe is thankful for the noise. He wouldn’t mind it if the only noise he had to hear from this moment on was her losing control like this.
“Pleasepleaseplease,” she pleads, “feels so fucking good.”
“What feels good,” Rafe barely lifts his mouth off her, “Tell me.”
“Shit,” Kiara’s thighs start to tremble and close around Rafe’s head, her sharp stiletto heel digging into his lower back, “You. I’m—oh my god, Rafe – gonna cum.” All her words string together, unable to separate them and form a proper sentence.
He’s kind enough to let her ride it out on his mouth, he savors the moment and her heat.
Once her soul comes back into her body, she’s scrambling down to the floor to frame his face with her hands. Rafe instinctually cradles his right arm under her ass to pull her closer to him before lifting them both up and sitting her down on the table, his bulge pressed against her bare sex. Even after the orgasm, her hips rise to meet his as she grinds against him. Rafe’s eyes roll to the back of his head as he pants into her chest.
Kiara’s hand reaches down to stroke him through his jeans, the fabric unrelenting but her touch makes it bearable. Her hands slow down and Rafe looks up at her, Kiara’s eyes glazed and far away.
“What’s wrong?” He grasps her hand and threads their fingers together.
Kiara bites her lips and looks to the side and shakes her head.
“Hey,” Rafe moves his body to catch her eyes, “What’s up?”
Kiara pulls her hand from his and runs it over her face, “I can’t – we can’t—.” Her eyes are running wild, looking from his face to the door, as if suddenly realizing where she is and what she’s doing. “I’ve been drinking and—”
Rafe is as gentle as he can possibly be when he runs his thumb over her cheek, brushing a tear away. She is finally able to turn and look at him, his eyes softening at the implication.
“Kiara,” he leans to kiss her cheek, tasting the tears on his lips, “You’re drunk and I won’t take advantage of you.”
“Because when we fuck, I want you to remember it.” Rafe moves his lips to the shell of her ear, “I want you to want it.”
Her eyes are comically wide, and her mouth is parted in a small “o”, she doesn’t try to say anything quippy like in her typical nature so Rafe steps backward.
With a salute and his lips pulled up in a smirk, he’s finally the first one to leave. The noise greets him eagerly as he re-enters the world from their suspended reality, this time he doesn’t mind the clatter in his head because for once he’s won.