Chapter 32 The Filthy Smut （Yes, More）
the filthy smut (yes, more) [trope]
the not-so-guilty pleasure of romance novels; frequently hidden behind innocent-looking covers and read in public with an impressive poker face. often, these scenes should come with a “do not try this at home” disclaimer
I stir awake, my eyelids heavy with sleep, and immediately notice the mattress beneath me isn’t the usual thin, lumpy one; this one is plush.
And the sheets—they’re smooth and cool against my skin, not the cheap, scratchy ones I have at home.
There’s a faint, clean scent lingering in the air, fresh linen with a hint of lavender.
I open my eyes, a sense of warmth spreading through me as I realize I’m in Rafael’s bedroom. But his side of the bed is empty, the sheets rumpled. My heart skips a beat. Did he leave?
Just as I’m about to get up and look for him, the air carries the smell of breakfast to me. Bacon, maybe eggs. “Rafael?” I call out.
His voice comes from downstairs. “I’m making breakfast. Stay where you are!”
“Why? Are you hiding another woman?”
“Yes,” he replies, his tone teasing. “That’s exactly it.”
I sink back into the pillows, grinning up at the ceiling.
The cozy warmth of the blankets wraps around me, and everything feels so perfect I have to stop myself from squealing.
The mattress cradles my body in all the right places—which my sensitive skin needs after last night—and I’m giddy with excitement at the thought of Rafael coming back.
My phone buzzes on the bedside table, and I glance at it, contemplating whether I should answer, then quickly realizing I lost the luxury of ignoring my phone the moment Ethan moved in.
I grab it and scroll through the notifications, but everything can wait, and Paige hasn’t answered my latest texts yet.
Quickly, I open the Whistle’s website. No news.
Rafael walks into the room, a pleasant distraction wearing nothing but a pair of low-waisted shorts, most of his tattoos on full display. His dark hair is wet from the shower and pulled back, and his muscles ripple slightly as he moves.
I bite my lip, memories flooding back—his hands on me, the way his hips felt pressed against mine.
My body aches in the best possible way.
“You Judas,” I say as he sets a tray down in front of me and the smell of breakfast wafts up, making my mouth water.
There’s a plate of perfectly cooked bacon, golden scrambled eggs, and a stack of pancakes drizzled with syrup and topped with fresh berries.
“I can’t believe you showered without me. ”
“Well, I needed to so I could make you breakfast in bed.” He holds a ringed finger up. “And I got you a shirt, too. Not one of mine, ’cause I figured it’d be too big. But—” He walks to the dark wooden dresser and opens up a drawer. “I see your one dead parent’s broccoli shirt and raise you…”
“Oh my God!” I sit up, holding the blanket over my chest. It’s another broccoli shirt, exactly like my dad’s and mom’s shirts. “How’s that even…”
“I thought about it and figured it was one of three possibilities. One: someone at some point gave out these shirts for free. Two: a local up-and-coming broccoli stylist we’ve never heard of. Or three: a vegetable secret society.”
“Ha! Number three is my favorite.”
“Mine, too.” He throws the shirt my way, and after catching it in the air, I pull it on. The mattress dips as he climbs back on.
“So, is it a thank-you breakfast for what I let you do to me last night?”
He chuckles, a low, rich sound. “Oh, absolutely. That’s exactly how I wanted it to come across.” He rests his weight on one elbow. “Thank you for the mind-melting orgasm, Scarlett. Enjoy bacon and eggs.”
“Well,” I say, taking a bite of pancake, the syrup sticky and sweet on my tongue, “you might want to start planning lunch in bed.”
He pauses and gives me a curious look. “Lunch?”
I run my finger down his chest. “Yes. A thank-you lunch for what I’ll let you do to me this morning.”
His eyes darken just a little as he leans closer. “I think I can manage that.”
“Good.” I lift the tray and set it on the bedside table, right over my phone. When I turn back to him, he’s licking his upper lip. I want to feel that tongue everywhere. “Because I’m really hungry.”
The blanket falls off me as I climb over him. His eyes dart to my shirt, my nipples stiffening against the fabric, and once I rub myself over his crotch, I feel him hardening. Pleased, I lean down to kiss his soft, beautiful lips.
It’s a drawn-out, lazy kiss. I do feel the urgency behind it, but it’s subdued by the need to say something we can’t possibly say with words.
When I lean back, my eyes trace over the contours of his face, memorizing every detail.
The golden and brown flecks in his gray eyes, the softness in his gaze that contrasts with the strength of his jawline.
His straight nose, with that flirty ring, and his lips slightly parted, as if waiting for mine to find them.
Every feature, every line and curve, it’s all him—and it’s all perfect.
His presence fills a space I never knew was empty.
“I’m…”
His thumb rubs a small circle on my thigh. “You’re…”
Falling in love with you.
I trace his shoulders with my fingers, then drag them across his chest, over the hair sprinkled on it.
I can’t tell him. The last time I told him I loved him, he vanished for five years. “I’m… going to ride you now.”
He cocks a brow at me. “All right. Thank you for the heads-up.”
“You’re welcome.”
He grips my hair and gently but surely pulls my face to his. He kisses me, this time hazy, rushed, hungry.
I fumble with his sweatpants until his erection springs free between my legs.
“Ride me, Freckles,” he says, pulling my hips up, then helping me back down, taking his cock inch by inch. “I’m not done with you yet.”
I fall back onto the mattress, trying to catch my breath. My skin is damp, and my whole body tingles with the lingering heat of effort and pleasure. Rafael pulls me closer, dragging the blanket over us.
“I guess I owe you dinner in bed now.”
“I guess you do,” I pant back. I glance at the breakfast tray and the lunch tray still perched on the bedside tables. “But then again, we didn’t eat breakfast or lunch. Plus, we need to leave this bed at some point today.”
He chuckles, his lips pressing against the sweaty skin of my chest. “We did shower.”
“Did we? I don’t think you can call it showering when you come out dirtier.”
With a distracted hum, his lips trail along my collarbone.
It’s like he can’t get enough. We’ve been fucking the whole day, in every single way I know how to.
Softly. Punishingly. Like crazed animals that function purely out of instinct.
Everything hurts, but in the right way. The way one’s body should hurt when it’s been used and consumed.
When I let out a soft whine of displeasure, he inches away slightly. “I should start preparing for the hearing on Friday.”
“No, you are prepared for the hearing. What you need is to keep your mind busy so you don’t freak out about the hearing.”
“Let me guess. That’s where you come in.”
“Oh, I come in and out, pretty much wherever you want, so long as I come last.”
I giggle as he keeps teasing me with his lips and teeth, making it harder and harder to keep my legs pressed against him so that he won’t slide all the way down.
I’d imagine one would be basically numb after this much sex, but my skin seems more responsive to him than when we started. The more of this we do, the more of him I crave.
“You know,” I say in between pants. “I don’t think I’ve ever gone this much time without reading.”
“Hmm.” He slides farther down, fingers grazing my legs as he kisses my inner thighs. “That’s unacceptable.” A flick of his tongue over my clit has me gasping, my whole body clenching. God, I’m sensitive. “Open the drawer there.”
I look to the right as his mouth slides lower, his tongue flattening and licking me all over until my eyes roll back. “Hmm.”
“Come on. Drawer.”
I open it and immediately see the book inside. It has a blue cover, but it’s romance, I’m sure. “Are you reading that?”
“Yes. And now you are.” I gasp when Rafael’s mouth wraps around my clit, his chuckle vibrating against my drenched skin. “Go on.”
I’m not sure I get where he’s going with this, but I open the book to the bookmarked page and read the first line. Holy smokes. “This is spicy.”
My body squirms at every slow movement of Rafael’s tongue on my swollen clit, my hold on the book tightening.
“Read it to me, Freckles.”
Reminded of his very similar request at the bookstore, my heart flutters.
I clear my throat, trying to focus as his tongue continues its delicious torment.
“They knew they couldn’t surrender to their passion.
Not with the curse looming over their heads.
But they also couldn’t stay away. ‘We can’t,’ he groaned when she pulled him into her bed. ‘You know we can’t.’ ”
I feel Rafael’s breath hot against my inner thighs as he pauses, listening intently.
“ ‘Then show me,’ she said, cupping his cheek. ‘Let me watch you give yourself the pleasure I wish I could give you. Show me, and I’ll do the same. I’ll show you all I have.’ ”
“Ooh.” Rising above me, he drawls, “Interesting. Keep going.”
I swallow hard, my eyes flicking between the book and Rafael’s intense gaze. His fingers move inside me slowly. I lick my lips and continue reading.
“He hesitated for only a moment before he leaned back and unbuttoned his pants, his hand moving to grasp his hard length. She watched, transfixed, as he began to stroke himself.”