Page 100 of Fumbled Into Love

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 wanthim,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 withouthelp.”

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 issoweird.

“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?”

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