22. CHAPTER 22

CHAPTER 22

“Do you catch your breath when I look at you? Are you holding back, like the way I do?”

Crush – David Archuleta

Nathalie

I ’m hot on Deon’s heels as he slips into his bedroom. As I race through the threshold, I slam into a wall of muscle, colliding against Deon’s back.

“What happened in here?” he whispers.

I grimace. I meant to clean up the disaster zone before he got home, but then he was home, and I was shocked, and he trapped me between his arms, and now, here we are, surrounded by everything I own, covering Deon’s floor.

“Well…I couldn’t find an earring, so I went searching.”

“Did you find it?” He toes a pair of underwear and quirks a brow.

“Yeah.” He tilts his head. “In the kitchen.” His laugh is deep, and it vibrates to my core. “I’ll clean it up.”

I bend over and begin haphazardly shoving things back into my suitcase. My hands shake slightly as I stuff as much as I can into the empty side.

Can he tell I’m nervous?

I don’t know how to act around him anymore. I’m trying to play it cool and not give away I have feelings for him, but after the last night I spent in his bed and then the way he took care of Declan and me, I’m shaking with anxiety.

He’s sharing more and more of himself, and with every piece he gives me, a piece of my heart becomes his.

It’s bending our rules, but aftercare is part of them, and hopefully, I can fall asleep in his arms. I want that soft moment with him at least once before this ends so I know how it feels to be held by someone I care for and understand the feeling of safety within someone's arms.

Deon crouches beside me, passing a lacy purple balconette bra.

“You forgot this,” he says, eyes sparking.

“Thanks.” Deon slides a neatly folded shirt into the suitcase beside a crinkled one I shoved in with brute strength. “I’m sorry I’m so messy.”

It’s always been a fact of my life, but now I’m self-conscious about it. He’s so tidy and put together that I can’t help but notice how opposite I am.

Does he find it unattractive?

“I don’t mind it,” he admits, throat bobbing. “If it’s your mess, I don’t mind it.”

The words spear my solar plexus, snapping the rusted bars of the cage where I’ve trapped my feelings. They bang wildly around my chest, begging to be heard.

A laugh tumbles from my lips as I take another shirt from his hands. “Well, I find your spice organization and excessive use of a label maker adorable.”

“It’s in alphabetical order.” He bites his lip, and my gaze falls. “You don’t think it’s crazy?”

“Only a little bit,” I respond. “Do you think my perfectly crafted pile of things is wacky?”

He bites his lip. “Only a little.”

I’ve waited patiently, I have, but he’s yet to say the code word, so I do it myself.

“Artichoke?”

“God, yes,” he says, hands on me in an instant and dragging me into bed.

My giggles fill the air as he pulls me onto his lap, and I trail a finger down his arms and torso, playing with the bottom of his shirt.

Deon hums, the vibrations soft against my skin as he begins to pepper gentle kisses on my cheek and down to my collarbone.

In one move, Deon lifts me. Another move, and my top is over my shoulders, discarded with the rest of my things in the corner of the room.

He places a feather-light kiss above my breast, and my eyes flutter shut, reveling in the sensation of him. My skin buzzes as heat tingles down my spine.

A breathy moan falls from my lips, and Deon gasps.

“Declan is here.”

Is he…afraid?

“Okay?”

I laugh, not understanding. Declan sleeps like the dead and sounds like a fire alarm while he does it. I could bang a pan inches away from his face, and he wouldn’t wake.

Lifting the hem of his shirt, I’m blessed with the glorious expanse of Deon’s chest as he heaves air into his lungs. I place a tender kiss above his heart as my hand trails to his waistband, quickly grazing over his growing erection.

“Nathalie,” Deon groans, my name a plea on his lips.

“Can you be quiet, Deon?” I ask, my breath hot against his skin as I slide away from his lap.

Deon’s eyes turn feral, and that spurs me on, knowing he finds me beautiful, that I affect him.

“I—I can try,” he chokes out, and if he wasn’t staring at me with such intensity, I might laugh at the response.

My gaze drags along his skin, and with a shimmy, I drop my shorts, leaving myself bare for him.

“Holy shit,” Deon mutters, palm dragging across his face. “Come here.”

I follow the demand, and once at arm's length, Deon meets me for a searing kiss. It’s hot and fierce like a wildfire as he consumes more and more of the oxygen from my lungs. It’s never been like this with anyone before; this insatiable need to connect with someone on every level.

His tongue trails heat along the seam of my lips, and I melt into him, granting him the entry he demands. The kiss deepens until I’m grinding against him, my skin molten lava, as I chase my pleasure.

“Please,” I moan, desperate for him to touch me.

Deon gently places me on my back, gaze searing as he drags me to the edge of the bed and drops to his knees.

Large hands fall on the inside of my knees, pushing them apart and spreading me open. The cold air hits the slickness of my inner thighs, and I hiss.

“Fuck, I like this view,” he murmurs, and my stomach plummets. “Hands over your head,” he demands. I gasp, shocked at how the words strike my core with liquid heat.

Deon peers up under hooded lids, and a flicker of vulnerability passes over his face. “Too much?” he asks.

I nearly squeal.

“Fuck no. Touch me. Touch me. Right. Now.”

He wastes no time, his tongue dragging up my slit, swirling around my swollen clit. My hips buck at the pure ecstasy, and my hands fly to touch him when he clicks his tongue and pulls away.

“No,” I moan, and tantalizingly slowly, Deon rises to grab my wrists and places them over my head. His smile is cocky and free, and so unlike the Deon I’ve seen, I can’t help but smile. “Is it a crime to want to touch you?” I ask coyly.

“It is when I’m trying to eat.” Well, shit. I don’t have a response except an eager nod. He releases my hands, and I keep them over my head, my breasts heaving as he presses airy kisses along my skin, down my stomach, and to the apex of my thighs.

Not skipping a beat, Deon sucks on my clit, and I jerk, desperately keeping my hands in place.

“Good girl,” he says against my skin, and as he laps and sucks, I inch closer to the edge.

Deon plunges a finger inside me, working in time with his tongue. He adds another, and the subtle stretch is magnificent as his tongue twirls against my clit, the pressure torturously soft.

The pressure begins to build, stacking as Deon devours me, and the pleasure is so…so intense it’s all I can focus on until it begins to slowly fade away. I attempt to grasp onto it with a white-knuckle grip. I want this. I want him, but as quickly as the electric feeling comes, it flutters away.

My muscles tense, and Deon lifts, brows furrowed.

“What’s wrong?”

“I can’t,” I croak out, thoroughly embarrassed.

His fingers trail against my inner thigh as I lift onto my elbows. Butterflies pound in my chest at the tender movement.

“I can’t orgasm.” For the first time, I feel entirely too bare for my liking. This conversation never ends well. Pride is hurt, and then I’m left disappointed. “Not without help .”

Hurt flashes across Deon’s face.

“You’ve faked it?”

“No!” I scramble. “The first time was…well, the first time. The second time was miraculous. It usually doesn’t happen for me.”

Deon rises, and the roles are reversed. I am the uncomfortable one, fidgeting and covering myself as best as I can. As I throw my arm over my breasts, Deon rips it away. “Nathalie, you’re supposed to be the confident one.”

My jaw drops at his teasing smile, and then it drops further when he slips off his pants, his cock jutting against his stomach.

I’ll never get used to the sight of him. Long and thick and made for me.

“This evens the playing field,” he says, and I choke.

“What?”

“It’s easier to be vulnerable if we’re both naked. ”

I stare at him, stunned. Every word on my tongue flutters away as his smile grows before he flops onto the bed next to me. This is so weird.

“Who are you?” I whisper, unsure this is the Deon I know. That flicker of uncertainty returns as he replies.

“I’m your fake boyfriend.” My lip nearly bleeds as I bite back my smile. “But I’m hoping you’ll explain what you mean.”

“I-I get in my head.” I focus on my toes, “I get so, so close, and then it’s just…gone. It doesn’t usually happen without using a toy or a lot of build-up.”

“Okay.” He shrugs, and I blink.

“Okay?”

“Do you have your vibrator in here?” he asks, and I wordlessly point to one of my suitcases. I can’t speak for fear I’ll admit something I’m not ready to admit.

He’s so casual about this, and it’s doing something wicked to my heart. He roots around my bag before he spins with a victorious grin and my vibrator in his grip.

His cock bobs as he returns to the bed, and my toes curl, that fleeting feeling slowly returning. He twirls the vibrator, and it looks small in comparison to him. He meets my gaze, and his smirk tells me he knows it, too.

“Tell me what you like,” he demands as he drops the toy, wraps his hands around my ankle, and tugs. “Tell me what makes you feel good.”

“The third setting.”

Deon clicks it on, and the buzzing sound fills the room. He trails the toy across my inner thigh, and I jerk. I wait for his touch, for the vibrating sensation, but instead, he hands me the vibrator and leans back, palming himself.

“Show me. Show me how you pleasure yourself. ”

“ What? ”

“Make yourself come. I want to watch.”

He slowly pumps himself as I grab the vibrator with shaky fingers. I can’t tear my gaze away as I line the rabbit vibrator to my entrance and push in. I moan as the outer part lands on my clit, sending the vibrations through my body.

“Oh, god,” I breathe, the zap of desire heightened as Deon’s own pace quickens. He tugs at his balls, and my mouth salivates, remembering the taste of him on my tongue.

A groan tumbles from Deon’s lips, and our eyes lock. I gently pull the vibrator out and then plunge it back in, imagining it’s Deon instead.

“Fuck, Nat.” As I curl the vibrator up, it hits the sneaky place inside me, and I yelp, overwhelmed by Deon’s compassion, the vibrations, and the erratic fluttering of my heartbeat. “Faster,” Deon commands, and I increase my pace as it all becomes too much.

My breasts ache as the vibrator pulses against my clit, the pleasure nearly unbearable. I time my movements with Deon, whose breathing grows ragged.

“I’m gonna come,” I say as the orgasm begins to build. I hit the crescendo as Deon groans, his head falling back as he comes with me, my name falling from his lips.

Spurts of cum decorate his stomach as his muscles spasm, and he heaves air into his lungs. My limbs seize as the orgasm takes control over my body, my vision blackening at the edges as the peak barrels through my body.

I jerk the vibrator out, turning it off when it becomes too much, my body too sensitive. As I come down from the euphoric high, I find Deon hovering with a warm washcloth.

“That was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen,” he says, leaning down and placing a gentle kiss on my lips.

With a soft chuckle, I rise from the bed, searching for my pajamas, when Deon yanks me into his chest.

“Sleep now,” he whispers against my neck, his breath sending goosebumps down my spine.

“I’m getting my pajamas,” I huff a laugh, softly smacking his hand that keeps me a prisoner in his arms. He lets go, and I dress myself as he watches with a lustful gaze.

The second my ass lands on the bed, I’m in his arms, wrapped tight. I sigh into the contact. I love being held like this.

“I’ve been waiting all day for this,” he admits, a whisper in my ear as I begin to doze off.

“For you to meet my vibrator?” I joke, sleep pulling me under.

As a deep slumber drags me away, I hear him say, “No. To hold you in my arms.”