45. Chapter Forty-Three

Chapter Forty-Three

Tatum

I hear the tail end of her phone call, and want to ask how it went, but instead I sit beside her and wait for her to tell me what’s going on. I’ve learned I have to keep balance between going to her and letting her come to me. She doesn’t want to feel like I’m controlling her but wants to know that I care enough. Honestly, she’s pretty easy to figure out.

Or so I think…

Because when she crawls over to me, throwing her leg over my lap to straddle me, I’m shocked. We’re outside, on the patio. And not that I have neighbors close enough to see, but this is an open space.

“How was your day?” she asks in a sultry tone. Her hair falls forward, framing her face. I tug on the ends of it that have fallen between us.

“Dull,” I say, leaning back to get comfortable.

“Is it better now?”

“Seems like it’s about to be.” I slide my hands up her bare thighs, teasing the insides with my thumbs .

She smiles at me, leaning in for a kiss. She stops just before our lips meet.

“I want your cum in my mouth, Tatum.”

Fucking hell…

Grasping her chin, I press my lips to hers.

“Then you better get started.”

With her bottom lip between her teeth, she slowly moves back until she’s on her knees. I scoot further down, and she reaches for my pants to unbutton them. I’m already hard and she awkwardly gets my dick out. She was confident right up until this moment, when she now looks unsure. Scared, even.

“It’s not going to suck itself, Devon.”

She blinks a few times, staring at my dick like she doesn’t know what it is. Hesitantly, she wraps her hand around my dick and leans forward. When her perfect lips wrap around the head of my cock, I see fucking stars. She’s doing more licking than sucking, but just the idea of her having my dick in her mouth is a dream come true.

She’s wanted to suck me off since Myrtle Beach, and as badly as I wanted her to, something about fucking her was so much better.

I’m trying to behave and not shove my cock down her throat because it’s her first time, but I’m tempted to. I don’t have to though, because she takes matters into her own hands and tries to deep throat me herself. She gags immediately, drool pouring from her mouth.

“Fuck, that felt good.”

She looks up at me with watery eyes and wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. “Seriously? ”

“Yes. Keep going.” I find the back of her head, but don’t urge her toward me like I normally would.

Things have always been different with Devon, and I’m not surprised I’m treating her differently than I would someone else.

Someone I don’t give a shit about.

Devon is different…

With another smirk, she takes me back into her mouth, testing her limits. Each time she goes deeper and deeper. Sometimes she gags; sometimes she doesn’t. But she doesn’t stop. Her eagerness is sexy as hell. The fact she wants to learn is hot. The fact she wanted to give me a blow job the moment I got home from work is even hotter.

The more time she spends on my dick, the more comfortable she gets. The more into it she gets. The closer I get to coming.

“You sure you want my cum in your mouth?”

She moans her response, which sounds like a yes to me. The vibrations have my balls tingling. I’m right on the edge, and when she takes me to the far back of her throat, I explode.

“Fuck, I’m coming.” It’s hardly a warning. The words are barely out of my mouth before I’m pulsing. She pulls back, gagging again, but trying like hell to keep going. She swallows what she can, but plenty spills out. Still feels good.

When she pulls back to suck in air, her eyes are red and tears are dripping down her face.

“That was so fucking hot,” I pant. “And you look so beautiful right now.”

She huffs out a laugh, wiping her mouth. “Doesn’t feel like it.”

I shake my head. “Promise you do. ”

She holds my gaze for a moment before ducking her head and smiling shyly. When she looks back at me, her green eyes are gleaming with excitement.

“Can I make you dinner?” she asks hesitantly.

“You want to make me dinner?” I say with a laugh, fixing my pants.

“Yeah, I think I do.”

I make a show of looking around. “Am I on camera?”

She frowns, not understanding my point.

“You give me a blow job when I walk in from work. Now you want to cook me dinner?”

She gets to her feet and shrugs. “I just want to do something nice for you.”

I get up and put my hands around her waist. “Dinner would be amazing. I’m going to shower, and I’ll meet you in the kitchen.” I kiss her head and we part ways.

The shower is quick, and I dress in sweatpants and a t-shirt when I’m done. I see I have a missed call after getting dressed. It’s Dane, so I call him back.

“Hey, sorry,” I say when he answers.

“It’s cool. Just wanted to make sure you were still going to the charity thing on Friday?”

“Planned on it. Why?”

“Can we ride together?”

“Sure.”

“Oh, I should tell you Devon is going. That cool?”

Should I tell him about us? I want to. It would make Devon happy. But I don’t think Dane is ready for that yet. Not after what just happened with Summer .

“Fine with me. I guess that means you talked to her?”

“Yeah, a little while ago. She won’t tell me where she is, but she said she’s fine and she’ll be home in a few days.”

“That’s good. Have you talked to Summer?”

“I’m currently trying to get the balls to do it.”

“Just do it, Dane. Get it over with. The sooner the better.”

“Yeah, you’re right. Okay, I’ll call her now. But if it goes bad, we’re going out drinking.”

Yeah, not happening…

“Whatever you say.”

I end the call and go downstairs, praying Summer does whatever the hell Dane wants so he doesn’t call me back and beg me to go out with him. I’m not leaving this house tonight.

Devon is in the kitchen, pulling things out of the fridge when I reach it.

“Do you need help?” I ask.

“Nope. I want to do this all by myself,” she says proudly.

She drops a bunch of ingredients onto the counter. I grab a beer from the fridge.

“Is it okay if I get some work done, then? I need to let that hotel know I’m not interested in buying.”

“I’ll let you know when it’s done.” She pushes up on her tiptoes to kiss my cheek.

I go to my office to get through some emails and let Marcus know that I’m not interested in the building, and since he put the notion in their heads, he can let them know I don’t want it. After that, I go through some more emails I didn’t get to today because my day was packed with meetings again. An hour later, Devon comes to the door to tell me dinner is ready .

I shut my laptop and follow her into the dining room. The table is set for two, our plates already laid out with a glass of wine.

“What did I do to deserve all this?” I ask, taking my seat.

“I’m just feeling grateful for you,” she says as she takes hers.

My stomach turns, but I push it away.

This is what I wanted.

“Well, I’m grateful for you too.” I grab her hand and kiss the back of it. “This looks delicious.”

“Hopefully it tastes as good.” She sounds unsure, but I bet it’ll be great. I haven’t had anything she’s cooked in years, but she used to make me food all the time when we were teenagers. Nothing was ever bad. I dig in, starving after having skipped lunch. The baked chicken is juicy, the rice perfectly cooked, and the creamed spinach is the perfect amount of sweet and savory.

“Have you thought more about what we’re doing?” she asks when we’re finished eating.

I reach for my wine, needing a moment to decide how I want to answer that. No, it’s not that I don’t know how to answer it, it’s that I don’t know if I should answer her truthfully. Because I have thought about it—a lot. And the answer is: I like where we are. The way things have been going. It’s simple. Easy.

But she can’t be trusted. And… this isn’t going to end the way she wants.

Should I ask her about what happened with us? Should I bring it up? Is it something I will ever be able to get over for us to move on? Or will it forever be there, like a permanent thorn in my side? I have no fucking idea, because I’m only confused about the whole thing. I have no idea how I got here, when it isn’t where I wanted to be. When the hell did it even happen?

Devon weaseled her way under my skin again. I fell for it all too easily, the same way I did last time. So no, I’m not mad that I’m here, but I can’t trust her enough to be in a relationship with her. Not officially. So where does that leave us?

“I think there is a lot going on right now and bringing it up to your brother won’t be a good idea.”

“We don’t need his permission,” she says, reaching for her wine.

“I didn’t say we did. But I already told you my reservations about him finding out. I don’t want to put you in the middle. I don’t want you to have to choose.”

Because she’ll choose him.

“We don’t have to tell him, Tate.”

“I don’t want to hide you, Devon.”

“I’m already doing that!” Her frustration is evident in her tone, but also in the way her eyes water.

“We both knew this wouldn’t be easy. We—”

“It is easy, Tate. You’re the one making it difficult.” She gets up, grabbing her plate and glass. “What do I have to do for you to pick me for once in your life?”

She storms off, and I let those words sit with me. My hand clenches around my fork and I grab my wine, emptying the glass.

She thinks I’ve never chosen her? Is this a joke? Did she so casually forget what she did to me, and who was the one not picking the other? Because she sure as fuck wasn’t picking me when she was fucking someone else. The way that infuriates me is scary. It’s always made me mad, but right now? Fuck, it’s bad.

I take a deep and slow breath, which does nothing to calm me down. So, I do it a few more times before getting up and going to fix this.

I find her on the patio, wineglass in hand and dinner plate on the table beside her. I take the glass from her and put it on the table. With my hands on her shoulders, I make her look at me.

“Don’t you understand that I just want you to be happy?” Truth. “There is nothing in this world that would make me happier than knowing you’re mine. That you’re happy with me.” Way too much truth. “Now isn’t the right time for us to figure this out. It’s still new to us. We could make a mess of this again.” Truth—though, I’m sure we already have.

“We won’t,” she says shakily. Putting her hands on top of mine. “We’re different, Tate. Things will be different this time. Won’t they?”

I’d like to think they will be, but I can’t be sure. Because I still don’t feel like I can trust her the way I need to. I’m not sure I ever will. Meaning all I’ve done is make a disaster out of us. We’re a ticking time bomb.