Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It’s just… cliche isn’t it? You’re rather exhausted, really. You are honest to god worn out with your job. Well, there are some perks. You can bring home baked goods, and you like your coworker,
but it’s all you have, college isn’t free.

It should be, you have the grades for it, but academia is bullshit and how are you supposed to juggle this job and a full course load.

“Don’t look so upset, it scares off customers” Your co-worker, Jean-Pierre, chides.

Right.

It’s a bakery. You’re supposed to be happy, almost everyone who comes into a bakery is happy. Right?

Wrong.

You’ve been there since the ass crack of dawn, you opened because it’s a weekend, and you just finished your sophomore year of college so according to your boss you obviously don’t have anything better to do. It’s only worse from here, well, that’s what everyone in your department says.

You try to cheer up looking at the adorable, yet albeit pricey, cookies and macarons behind the counter. Next to them are obnoxiously pink cupcakes. Granted you made them that shade of hot pink on accident.

The ring of the bell gets your attention. Polnareff has been fucking around in the back room on his phone so you press your pink apron down, settling yourself behind the register.

You expected the usual crowd at this time of day, gaggle of polite high schoolers who can all buy only one macaron each, the exasperated husband who’s making amends to his wife for what you imagine is his umpteenth time, the wine mom who demands every cupcake in the case.

Instead your [E/C] eyes landed on a tall, bulky, behemoth of a man. His age was up in the air, but you could see the salt and pepper of his hair, greying especially at his temples. There was an immediate sense of oh wOW, okay. Okay. Wow- racing through your heavily caffeinated, sleep deprived brain.

As the man approached the counter, he stopped, one hand stroked his stubbled chin while the other stuffed in his pocket. He seemed to examine the case of baked goods, then yourself.

“You match.” A gruff, but not off putting, voice came from him.

Your eyebrows raise.

“Pardon?” You sputter.

Were you really blushing?

“The cupcakes- and your apron.” He specifies with a wink.

Okay now you’re blushing.

“Oh! Let’s call it a happy accident.” You say, meeting the man’s eyes. Maybe if you looked at that and not the rest of him you’d calm down.

Nope that’s the wrong answer too because they were a shade of green you weren’t equipped to describe.

“I think those are called coincidences.” He says, a lazy smile creeping up. “But a happy accident sounds better. So, about the matching cupcakes, are they any good?”

You inhale sharply through your nose, almost like a reset. It’s time to do your job.

“Of course!” You say, a little less fake than normal.

Okay, it’s not fake at all. This guy has changed your mood completely. You hate to admit you like the products, but you’re more than happy to sell to this man. “Those ones are strawberry, obviously.”

“Obviously.” The man agrees.

Your cheeks grow redder.

“But those are red velvet, a best seller. Almond caramel, vanilla, chocolate, and Saturday’s special, limoncello.” You list all the flavors in the case.

“Saturday’s special?” He asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Yessir,” you nod, the formality wasn’t required with the job, but it fell out naturally. “We have one for each day of the week. The other five are our staples. Macarons on the other hand are seasonal besides the basic flavors.”

The lazy smile on his face changes to a full grin.

“What other flavors are there?” He asks.

“Uh-“ your brain short circuits.

“Oh- don’t tell me. I’ll just have to come in and see.”

There’s another wink.

Jesus are you about to pick up extra shifts for this guy?

“Sweet tooth?” You ask, trying to figure out if this was just the man’s friendly nature or was he actually flirting.

“Oh for me? Not for a long time. It’s for my daughter and my grandson. The kid’s so serious I thought maybe something sweet will change that little lemon.” He says, crouching down to examine all of the case now.

You really were trying not to lean over and look at him.

“Grandson?” It comes out way too fast, you’re definitely shocked.

But yet, you had a friend whose grandma was 32 when she became a grandparent. Maybe it was like that.

“What? Don’t believe me?” He asked, looking up at you from his position.

He rose with a little grunt, okay maybe you kinda believed it now but it was also kinda hot to hear.

The man immediately pulled out a wallet, holding out a photo of him, a beautiful blonde woman, and an extremely sour looking teenager.

“That’s my daughter, Holly, she’d love this place. Then that’s my grandson, Jotaro. He’d… he wouldn’t make it through the door.” He laughs, heartily, full.

“It’s okay. I wouldn’t blame him. When I was a pre teen I would’ve had a stroke if my mom took me here.”

You can’t explain why you’re talking so much to him, well, you can but you don’t wanna.

Maybe it’s because the shop is empty except for you two? What happened to you Jean-Pierre? Did he fucking leave?

“Hm!” The man chuckled. “How’d you end up here then?”

“Oh, you know, one day you’re a punk kid who hates the color pink and all things ‘girly’ next thing you know you’re a broke 20 year old and maybe the place you get croissants from isn’t a bad place to work.” You say, leaning on the case to give a dramatic retelling.

The man laughs again, his eyes crinkling in the corners, a warmth spreads inside you.

He clutches his side as he laughs but quickly comes down, sobering, suddenly remembering what he's there for.

“Alright, alright. As a former sourpuss, what would you get?” He asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Uh, well, we have charcoal colored macarons. They’re vanilla bean but the black makes it fun.” You shrug.

“Alright. How many for six of those?” He asks, looking to where you point.

“Well they’re 2.50 a piece.” You say.

“2.50? Jesus!” He grumbles.

“Yeah you think they’d pay us better when they’re that expensive.” You say, rubbing your neck a little bit.

His eyebrows furrow, before he could say something he presses his lips into a firm line.

“Well, if it’ll make the kid happy, it’s definitely not gonna kill me. Six of those then… and a strawberry cupcake.” He says, pulling his wallet out again.

You nod, working quickly to put them into the equally pink box. You can feel his eyes on you as you work.

It’s not exactly subtle, and you’re glad it isn’t. He’s honestly the first thing that made you smile today.

“Nothing for the wife?” You ask, putting the box on the counter, not letting yourself get your hopes up.

His lips purse again.

Oh god, did she die?

“Nope. Kinda why I moved out here, didn’t want to be some old bachelor in New York.” He clicks his tongue on his teeth. ”Plus, my daughter just moved back from Japan, who could ask for more?”

He obviously wasn’t one to wallow apparently.

You give a pleasant smile.

“Well, if your daughter likes the cupcakes. You’re welcome back anytime, sir.” You say, giving a small, polite smile.

“Joseph.” He says, handing you his card.

Oh god, this was one of those nice ones. Only rich people had those cards.

“[Y/N].”

“Well, nice to make your acquaintance. I’ll definitely be coming back for the other flavors. Hopefully you’ll be able to walk me through those as well.” He says with a grin that returns the blush to your cheeks.

He quickly draws a 50 dollar bill to push into your tip jar, leaving in a rush before you could tell him not to.

You let out a breath as he leaves.

“Wow, he was hot.” Your coworker says, almost materializing behind you.

“Holy fuck, don’t do that!” You snap, giving a glare.

“Oh he likes you~” he teases.

“Fuck off, Pol.” You say, shooting him a glance.

Polnareff’s family actually owned the bakery, he was the owner's nephew. All the female customers swooned over an actual Frenchman serving them french baked goods.

He wiggles his pale eyebrows at you, a smile creeping up.

“Look alive, we’ve got some Karen’s coming up and my shift is almost over.” You say, scrunching your nose at him.

Honestly, going into your shift the next day, you weren’t going to let yourself get excited.

Your shift wasn’t as long, but you’d be there at the same time. You actually put on more noticeable makeup.

Every time the door chimed, your heart fluttered then sank. Why were you so obsessed over this guy?

Then, about an hour before close, the door chimed again and you didn’t let yourself get excited.

“Ah!” That familiar gruff voice called. “I was worried I missed you!”

Your eyes lit up.

“Hey!” You call, retying your apron as you walk as fast as you casually could to the display case.

He leans on the counter, chin in his hand with that same grin that makes your heart race.

“What’s today’s special?” He asks.

“Carrot cake.” You say, pointing towards the board.

Polnareff wrote it in both English and French with his flowery fancy handwriting.

“Delicious. I’ll have one of those and the same order from yesterday.” He says, not taking his eyes off you.

His gaze feels hot on you as you work, the flirtation much clearer this time, even if it’s unspoken. You don’t work as quickly this time so he can watch.

“Did your grandson like them?” You ask, leaning over the counter to meet his gaze, handing the box over that way so your fingers would brush.

Joseph shrugged.

“Even if he didn’t I’d still be back here.” He says with a wink.

He doesn’t miss how pink you turn.

“But the kid took ‘em, I think he ate them all in his room because this morning the box was empty.” He said.

You smile pleasantly at that. At least it gave him a reason to return.

And return he did.

Every other day for about two weeks, each time more friendly and toeing the line on outright flirtation.

He’d compliment everything, your hair, your smile, your eyes. He was a charmer for sure.

It didn’t help that when he greeted you it wasn’t by your name, it was always a low, sweet. “There’s my girl.”

And today wasn’t any different. You drummed your fingers on the counter top, watching the clock. Joseph should be in by now. Then the man came in with the familiar door chime.

“There’s my girl!” He calls, pushing the door open with his back.

You put the box already prepared onto the counter, sliding it over to him.

“You’re such a doll, y’know that?” He says, holding that black card out.

His eyes scan over you, you’re wearing that lipstick he complimented you on the other day, and the shirt that hugged you just right underneath your apron.

You ran the transaction, but you both know the interaction wasn’t complete. It was just a matter of getting it over with, once Joseph forgot to even buy anything and you two just talked.

“I threw in some new flavors of macarons for everyone to try, an extra for my favorite customer.”

You were allowed to give out a few samples, so you held onto that allowance in order to slip a few in there.

Polnareff started taking his breaks around the time Joseph came in, he’d always do his best to keep himself from groaning and rolling his eyes. You always just told him he was jealous.

“Moi? jealous? you have met, my partner haven’t you?”

You have, Muhammad Avdol was an exceptionally charming and lovely man. You just couldn’t help but bite back at Jean-Pierre, only if they were in jest.

“Do they really have you here every day of the week?” Joseph asks, bringing you back to the present.

You shrug.

“Pretty much. But we close at 4 so, my nights are my own.” You say, leaning on the counter. “But today’s flavor is pistachio. Did Holly like that one?”

Joseph shakes his head.

“Nah, but it’s okay. She’s enjoyed being pampered, but she’s getting a little tired of it. I tend to go overboard on that kind of stuff.” He says, running his hand through his hair.

The man always wore white gloves, that was something you took note of. It didn’t bother you, you just found it interesting. Even as he rolled his sleeves up to show off arms that had no right to be as muscular as they were, fuzzy with silver hair. God, did you have a complex?

“Hmm, haven’t ever felt that before.” You say, resting your cheek in your hand.

His eyebrow raised.

“What do you mean?” He inquires.

“Being pampered so much you get tired of it.” You shrug.

His eyes seem to glint at that.

“You said you have nights off, right?” He says, a mischievous grin quirks his lips.

“Right.” You nod, heart thrumming at where this is going.

“Well, let’s change that. Have dinner with me tonight.” He says, green eyes holding yours.

Your eyebrows raise, pink spreading all over you, your heart pounding in your ears.

“Really?” You ask.

“Is that a ‘you creep’ really or ‘do you mean it’ really?” He returns, you have a sinking suspicion he already knows the answer, but you can see how he enjoys toying with you.

“Do you mean it?” You ask, a bit breathless.

He pulls out a business card, grabbing the pen used for signing receipts and writes down his personal number.

“Really.” He slides the number across the counter to you.

You take the card, a little bewildered and wide eyed.

“I’d love to!” You blurt out, finally taking advantage of the situation before it slipped by you.

Joseph grinned, pulling his wallet out. He pulled out two 100 dollar bills and stuffed them into the tip box.

“Hey!” You protested. “You- you can’t I have to split those with Polnareff, so-“

“The French kid?” He asks, eyebrows raised.

“Yeah-“

“He’s a good kid, I bet he’ll enjoy a nice dinner.” He shrugs it off.

As your eyes still stare at the tip jar, he takes his box of baked goods and makes his leave. No need for proper goodbyes since you’ll be seeing him tonight.

You now look at the business card handed to you.

Joseph Joestar. CEO. Joestar Properties.

Holy fuck.

You had no idea he was that Joseph. Your apartment building was actually one of his properties. The man who owns an empire was taking you out to dinner? Yeah. You need to sit down.

Chapter Text

Once you text Joseph, the date for the night is securely planned. With extra cash in your pocket, and by Joseph’s insistence, you bought yourself a dress for the date.

It was hard to not blush, feel yourself turn inside out at the praise and adoring texts you received from Joseph.

You really didn’t have time to fret over the dinner, after your shift it was straight to the mall to buy a nice dress, then off to do your makeup at your apartment.

Joseph sent you a car. Not an Uber. A car that was fancy, sleek black and the driver didn’t look like he wanted to kill you.

The ride to dinner was quiet. You could hear your heartbeat in your ears. Why were you panicking? It was Joseph! Lovely, charming, warm, Joseph.

Handsome to boot. Filthy fucking rich just had to be the cherry on top, but God, what if led to getting a chainsaw thrown down at you like in American psycho.

No. No. That wasn’t who he was. This was the man who bought macarons for his daughter based on what outfit she was wearing that day.

That was another thing.

He had a daughter who was old enough to be your mother. On top of that? A grandson your own age.

These should’ve been concerns but when you remembered his warm smile and soft, glancing touches, the worries melted away.

Joseph was waiting for you at the restaurant, his green eyes widening in excitement upon your arrival. He opened the door for you like the true gentleman he was.

“Oh my God…” he trailed, admiration clearly spread across his face.

“What, you don’t like it?” You asked, flustered as he took your hand. It was just a simple little black dress.

You only got fancy on what was underneath. That was if, only if the date went as well as you hoped.

He wiped his face with his other hand, shaking his head.

“You’re- you look absolutely ravishing.” His words are intentional, his wide grin so much more dazzling this close. It was a grin that made you want to put a hand upon his cheek and kiss him right there.

As you made your way into the restaurant, he put a sturdy arm around your waist, following your waiter. It felt so right.

As you passed the tables, led by the waiter, the people at their tables stared at you. It’s like they knew. They knew you shouldn’t be there.

“Joseph… I don’t. They’re staring at me.” You whispered.

“You’re gorgeous, sweetheart. If I were them, I would too.” He said.

You blushed lightly, that was almost stupidly sweet. You found yourself pressing closer to him, wanting to feel how warm he was, to smell his expensive cologne.

Joseph pulled his chair out for you when you got to the table. You could get used to this.

The waiter came over almost immediately, asking for your wine selection. You looked at Joseph wide eyed and mouthed ‘red.’

“Your chianti, please.” Joseph said, smiling easily.

You didn’t know what that meant but nodded anyway.

Once the waiter left, you leaned over the table and giggled. You were more than willing to omit the fact that you technically weren’t of drinking age, but America was stupid for those bullshit laws anyway.

“I can’t remember the last time I had wine.” You whisper. “I think it’s been vodka redbull since I was a freshman.”

Joseph laughed heartily at that, clutching his side as he did so. It was one of those mannerisms that made your heart flutter when you first met. Honestly, it still did.

To hide your own smile you opened the menu. It was bare bones. No descriptions, just the names. That immediately made you feel out of place again.

Joseph’s attentiveness didn’t miss how your eyebrows furrowed.

“Is something wrong, doll?” He asked, leaning forward.

The nickname makes heat rise to your cheeks.

“I- I don’t know what to order- or what any of these things are.” You admit, hiding your gaze behind the menu like it’d all make sense now.

Joseph waved his hand.

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll pick something then. What do you like to eat?” He asked, folding his menu so you’d be eye to eye.

You follow suit, not letting embarrassment get the best of you.

“Oh, I’m quite adventurous.” You can be intentional in your vocabulary as well.

That sideways, hungry grin crept up his face, sending your heart pounding in your ears. Maybe the lace under your dress was a good investment after all.

“I’m glad, darling.” He said before picking up his menu once more. “But honestly if you told me you exclusively ate lima beans I wouldn’t bat an eye. It’d take a lot more than that to scare me off.”

Joseph ordered for the both of you when the waiter returned with your wine. It was something in Italian that you figured sounded like pasta.

As you both sipped your wine, easy conversation spilled past your lips. He was every bit as charming as you expected, his quick wit and cheeky manner brought you flushing. The wine made you feel warm in your gut but Joseph made you warm everywhere else.

Proving your point to what a troublemaker he was, you almost squealed when you saw he’d ordered you squid ink pasta.

“It’s quite good, I promise!” He said, after his laughter died down.

He was right, of course. Another glass of wine, more conversation, pasta finished. You were beginning to feel, well, spoiled. Every compliment made you feel like you were pure gold, in addition there was always some pet name attached, something positively old fashioned.

“Dessert? Oh!-“ he caught himself, “no, you must be sick with the idea of desserts.”

You shook your head.

“I’m open to possibilities…” you say, examining the last sip of wine in your glass.

Possibilities indeed.

The car ride back was the perfect kind of tense, the excitement that made you squirm. His hand never left your thigh, gripping tightly.

It felt like it was a long time coming. You had barely enough time to admire the house you arrived at before you rushed inside. You had no complaints in that.

As soon as the door was closed, you kissed him. Finally, fucking kissed him. After weeks of pining, it was everything you wanted and more. The slide of stubble against your soft skin. His lips were skilled, disarming your senses, the sturdy gloved hand at your chin inviting you to open your mouth for him to lick inside.

You could feel his lips twist into a self satisfied smirk as little sounds escaped you.

Gloved hands slid up your clothed torso, gripping your waist with one hand, the other just below your bust, thumb daring to snake up and rub over your breast.

“I- I gotta.” He pulled away, breath shaky. “I gotta tell you something.”

Your eyes widened. You knew it was all too good to be true.

“Uh- well, due to some- complicated circumstances when I was 18, I lost my left hand. So,” his look is one of embarrassment. “But! My family has always had close connections with the Speedwagon foundation so- it’s, almost the same just-“

Your eyebrows furrow, hand tracing down his left forearm, then over the mechanical hand. You could feel the temperature difference but other than that, there wasn’t much of one.

“It’d take a lot more than that to scare me off.” You parrot his line from earlier.

If you thought your kiss before was passionate, it didn’t hold a candle to how Joseph kissed you now. His left hand grabbed at your thighs, hoisting you up against the wall, urging your legs to wrap around him.

He was strong too? God. What didn’t he have? It wasn’t a stretch of the imagination considering how he was still ridiculously muscular, not even considering his age.

He proved his strength again by carrying you all the way to his master bedroom, which was up a flight of stairs by the way, and tossed you like you weighed nothing on the massive bed.

Your heartbeat pounded louder than ever in your ears. All you could think was more, more, more. You bet your ass that Joseph was going to give you exactly that. His green eyes were half lidded, an expression of a man who looked absolutely starved and you were a feast.

As he crawled to you, deft fingers made quick work of your zipper, but lingered before tugging at the hem of your dress.

“Tell me to stop, anytime. I’ll listen.” He whispered, voice low, even more gruff than usual. Fuck, if that didn’t go straight to the heat building in your stomach and the growing wetness between your legs.

“Please, don’t stop.” You said, breathless and needy.

Joseph let out a low growl of approval, his lips attaching to the conjunction of your neck and shoulder. He was only spurred on by the breathy moan you let out as his teeth nipped at your delicate skin, his arousal obvious as his hardening cock brushed against your thigh. Jesus, you could tell he was huge from just that.

You lifted your hips to help him shimmy your dress off as he crawled downward, kissing every inch of newly exposed skin. You felt his breath hitch as he saw the red lingerie lovingly adorning your skin. It was the perfect color.

“God, you look amazing.” He groaned. “This is all for me?”

Wordlessly you nod.

Strong, wide hands, pulled your thighs apart to settle them over his shoulders. Holy fuck. A gloved thumb pressed against the growing dampness, rubbing up and down before settling over your clit, making confident and skilled circles.

“Oh- Joseph-“ you whimpered.

“Come on, baby, tell me. Did you know what you were doing when you put this on?” He asked, thumb slowing down.

“Yes!” You cried out, “I’ve wanted you so bad, I- I always wanted you. I wanted you to want me too.”

He groaned, pressing a kiss to your thigh, the stubble rubbing you just right.

“Oh, darling, I wanted you, wanted this, from the moment I first laid eyes on you.” He purred, fingers pulling your lacy lingerie to the side, not even bothering to take it off.

He bit down on the glove of his right hand to yank it off, clean, pristine fingers revealed underneath. He traced your entrance for a moment, leaving you whining for more. As much as he liked to tease, he could see you were in no position to hold on much longer.

His index finger pressed in slowly, hooking upwards as his lips met your swollen clit. He sucked ever so gently for the perfect amount of pleasure that didn’t quite hurt.

“Oh- please,” the words died out on your tongue. God, it shouldn’t feel that good, it’s more decadent than any dessert in your bakery, sweeter than sugar itself.

The words spurred him on, making him groan against you as he licked over your swollen nub, your cunt dripping already. Joseph only let out a hot, damp breath of amusement, pressing a second finger into you.

You gasp at the intrusion, your walls stretching to accommodate the thick digits. How was he supposed to even fit?

“Good girl,” he praised, voice low, humming along happily against your sopping wet pussy. “Such a good girl for me. You like it, don’t you? Being spoiled like this?”

You nod frantically.

“Tell Daddy exactly how much you like it,” he insisted, curling his fingers. Your eyes roll back, mouth agape. “Tell Daddy how much you get off on this, because I just felt how you clenched around my fingers, honeypie, there’s no denying now.”

There’d be no use in it anyway, so you let the words come out in a stream of needy-barely intelligible moans.

“Just like that.” Joseph encouraged, pressing his face into your thigh before licking a wet stripe across you.

“Daddy, it’s so good- it’s so good and I’m so close.” The words are barely strung together.

Joseph’s sly smile cracked across his features, swiftly pulling his fingers out. You can’t help but whine as he pulls away completely, but you’re more than satisfied to see Joseph undress himself. Your eyes staring hungrily at his thick cock bob out of his dress pants. He’s the biggest you've ever had and by far, you can’t decide whether or not you should tell Joseph that. You could imagine the two reactions, the most likely of him getting nervous and not wanting to hurt you, or the cheeky, dastardly smile and wink he’d give.

“Are you now?” He asked, rubbing his stubble against your thigh, the perfect type of rug burn.

His fingers pulled out next, leaving you aching and empty.

You watched with heavy lidded eyes as he pulled his own shirt off as he made his way to the bedside table.

“I felt like a goddamn teenager, buying condoms from the convenience store.” He laughed, low in his chest.

You giggled a little but your eyes were fixated on his large, thick, cock. He was 195 cm after all, and he definitely lived up to his height. You were correct in your assumption, he was the biggest you’d ever had.

His gloved hand pulled at your ankle, bringing you directly to the edge of the bed. His bare hand stroked himself with a languid pace, spreading a lube you can’t remember him applying, his smile lazy and self satisfied.

The hand on your ankle slid upwards, grabbing the tender and plush flesh of your thigh, spreading you wide for him.

“Tell me if it’s too much,” he purred.

You nodded, not trusting your voice as you looked down. He guided himself down to your aching cunt, pushing just the head inside. You immediately gripped onto the wrist of the hand holding your thigh, fingernails making crescent moons.

His green eyes met your [E/C] ones for a moment, narrowing to gage exactly how you feel. Your parted mouth and baited breath gave him the correct impression to press in further.

Fucking Christ, you’ve never felt so full, it was like every part of you was now making way for Joseph and Joseph alone. It was overwhelming, overstimulating, but in the way that made your mind turn to mush as he slowly pulled back before easing more in.

By the time he bottomed out you felt yourself grow limp under his grip, eyes rolled back and mouth parted.

“Please,” you whimpered, barely able to lift your head, “faster.”

Joseph didn’t listen just yet, instead his warm and talented mouth met the crook of your neck, sucking a possessive mark there as he rolled his hips at a pace you were finding way too fucking slow.

He only laughed when you whined, trying to hook your legs around his waist but he gripped you firm, hands holding your hips down as he took his sweet time.

“I,” you hiccuped. “Daddy- I need it.”

That seemed to spur him on.

“[Y/N]…” he grunted, low in his throat, hips pulling back suddenly, holding himself just at the edge, just barely inside of your aching cunt. “You need it? How badly do you need it?”

It was fucking wrong. All of this was wrong. You knew it in your stomach but when you looked in his eyes and he had his hand on your thigh you couldn’t help but fall apart. You needed it, you fucking needed him like a fish needs to swim. You wanted it too. You wanted all of him and all that he could give.

Your tongue feels heavy in your mouth, sputtering aimlessly for a moment.

“I need to be yours.” You said, stringing the words together.

That apparently was the correct answer. You let out a startled cry as he thrust into you, harsh and precise.

It shouldn’t feel that good, it had no right to. Especially when he set a steady, firm, brutal pace with you, his thick cock dragging across your sweet spot.

“Just like that?” He mocked, almost so sweetly you couldn’t even register it was teasing. “I know, honeypie. I can feel how fuckin’ desperate you are.”

Experience was definitely on his side. He knew exactly how to run his hand down your thigh to hook your heel at the small of his back, the other sliding up your bust to cup your breast through your bra.

He noted every little whine and gasp, adjusting accordingly. Though, to be fair, it was all he had to work with. All words beyond his name and “more.” had fled you, instead all that came out was wordless moans and pathetic little noises. The bed beneath you groaned and shook as you did, taking the force of each of his thrust almost as much. You couldn’t help but bounce almost.

“Mm,” he moaned in your ear, “there’s my good girl. Let daddy take care of you. Let me spoil you rotten.”

His voice was strained, more gruff than usual, it felt like smoke had curled around you, inviting you deeper.

“You like it, don’t you?” He continued. “You like being my girl, taken to a fancy dinner, wearing nice clothes, being fucked stupid. Hh, baby, it’s just the start. I’ll show you the world, give you everything you want, then fuck you so hard you can’t even think about those little things, only me.”

A sob falls past your lips, nodding so fast you might even give yourself whiplash.

“I want it, I want it, I want it.” You cried, clutching onto his well toned back.

His non-gloved hand slid between the two of you, deft and calloused fingers slowly circling your engorged clit. You shivered at the touch.

“Oh? You want it?” He teased, breath just past the shell of your ear.

His fingers moved faster, in time with his still harsh and almost punishing thrusts. The heat that coiled tightly in your stomach almost became too much. It was so intense you felt as if you needed to crawl up the wall to get away from it.

Instead you bared your throat, eyes squeezing shut.

“Joseph!” You cried out, nails raking down his back.

You swore you saw white, an almost inhuman noise ripping from you as you rode your high, thighs shaking as he still. Kept. Going.

It was too much, your brain was almost mush to begin with and now you couldn’t fathom how he was still thrusting as if you hadn’t just cum harder than you ever had in your life.

Jesus Christ what was this man made of?

“Oh, baby. I’m not done with you yet.” Joseph panted, moving you onto his lap in one swift movement, straddling his thighs.

Fuckin old man.