ELEVEN #2
We stop when we get to his bedroom, which is as gorgeous as the rest of his apartment, but of course, I barely notice anything when Devon flashes me a smile that is absolutely lethal.
“A crush, huh?”
“Uh… Um, I—” Very eloquent. Go, me.
“Do you have a crush on me, Mr. Hartwell?” He lifts my hand to his lips, pressing a kiss and a playful grin to the back of my palm, and I almost expire on his shiny, marble floors.
“Devon…” His name slips out in a puff of breath against his lips, and he swallows the small sound that escapes me when he licks into me with possessive strokes that make me tremble.
“Because I’m fucking crazy about you,” he finishes hoarsely.
The words wash over me, and my eyes close as he nuzzles my temple and I tuck my nose into the hollow of his throat, breathing him in.
“I’m crazy about you, too,” I mumble against his skin, and I swear I feel him shiver.
I bury my smile in his throat.
“I’m going to get you that T-shirt now,” he says, though he makes no move to release me.
“Will you bring me one that smells like you?”
A sound resembling a cross between a soft growl and a gentle purr makes his throat vibrate under my cheek, and I bask in it.
“Yeah, I’ll bring you one that smells like me.” He still doesn’t move, and this time, my grin slips free. “In a minute,” he adds.
“I don’t mind. Take all the minutes you want.” I could stay like this with you forever.
It’s several minutes later when I’ve stripped down to my underwear, wearing a big, gray T-shirt of Devon’s as I crawl into his huge bed while he does the same.
I would appreciate the feel of his crisp white sheets on my skin much more if I wasn’t actively fighting not to drool over his hard body and the miles of golden skin only interrupted by his black boxer-briefs.
My breathing is nowhere near regular when he lies next to me, wrapping an arm around my waist, and drawing me closer to his aforementioned, drool-worthy hard body, our heads resting on the same pillow.
“Is this how you nap?”
A devilish smirk pulls at the corner of his mouth, and I almost miss his answer.
“No. I usually sleep naked.”
“Oh, that’s—” I nod mechanically, brain rendered completely useless as those sparkling gray-blue depths draw me in. “That’s nice.”
Nice? Okay.
His laugh feels so warm.
“How about you? Do you nap like this?”
“Mhm.” I rub my cheek on his pillow, loving the way his scent is everywhere around me, draping over my skin. “Not just nap. Big T-shirts are pretty much all I wear at home these days.”
“Oh yeah?” His gaze feels suddenly sharper on me, his hand like a brand on the small of my back. “Whose big T-shirts do you wear, Sammy?”
“M-mine.” I stumble on the word at the possessiveness in his voice. “I wore them when I was pregnant when I couldn’t stand anything else on me, and afterwards, wearing them still felt good. They’re really big on me now.”
He smiles, and I want to trace his dimple with my fingertips.
“How big?”
“Really big. My belly was huge.” I chuckle, my eyes flicking down to where I’ve been unconsciously fidgeting with my borrowed T-shirt. “It’s the reason I have so many marks left.”
He’s quiet, and when I look at him again, the intensity in his gaze makes my chest feel funny.
“Why do you say it like that?” he asks.
“Like what?” My breath catches when he runs his knuckles over my belly through the soft material.
“Like every part of you isn’t beautiful, exactly the way it is.”
My pulse races as my hand falls away, making room for his light, burning touch.
“You really think that?” I whisper hoarsely as my body grows heavier, hotter.
His scent thickens, and I know he’s noticed, his touch never letting up, his eyes fixed on mine. They’re molten silver as his fingers slip lower, under the T-shirt, caressing my softness with such care, it borders on reverence.
“I could do nothing but lick, and kiss, and suck on every freckle, every line, every mark on your body.” A rough whimper leaves him when I cover his hand, and slowly guide it to my underwear, hooking his fingers into the band of my briefs.
His eyes are wild as he slides them off me.
“I want my hands full of you all the goddamn time. Full of your perfect tits. Full of your mouthwatering belly.” His hands are shaking as he grips the bottom hem of my T-shirt.
And I’m trembling with anticipation, greedily soaking in his attention, loving the way his eyes consume every inch of me he uncovers.
I arch my back, and raise my arms above my head so he can take it off me completely, until I lie bare on his sheets, stretched out next to him.
I’m hard, and slick as I scoot closer to him and he rises above me like a beast.
“You like me like this, Alpha?” I breathe.
“I’m obsessed with you like this, my sweet omega,” he grates out. Every muscle in his body is so tight, it looks ready to snap. His cock is so hard that the black material of his boxer-briefs is obscenely stretched over his thick length. But his hands are surprisingly gentle when he touches me.
He maneuvers me so I’m on my side, covering my back, wrapping me in his arms, enveloping me entirely in his warmth, in his scent, overwhelming me in the best way possible.
“I bet you were a fucking dream when you were pregnant, weren’t you, Sam?
” He kisses my neck, sucking on my skin until I’m sure he’ll leave a bruise.
Goosebumps break all over me as his hands roam my body, my breaths coming faster, my mind growing hazier.
“Your belly heavy with Eli, your tits swollen and sensitive, your cock hard and pink and aching.”
“God, Devon…” I moan softly, loving every word he’s telling me, burrowing deeper into the cocoon he’s made for me, feeling so warm, so wanted, so safe.
The bed shifts as he moves, and I sigh when, seconds later, I feel nothing but skin on skin, his hot shaft nestling between my thighs.
“I would have made you feel good just like this,” he murmurs soothingly, his palm fisting me, stroking me, his cock mimicking the rhythm, rocking between my legs, sliding under my balls while my slick eases his way. “Held your belly in my hands, and gotten you nice and dripping.”
“And then what?” I crane my neck, twisting enough so I can look at him, so I can drown in his blazing eyes, in a fantasy that has my heart aching, in the slow pleasure wreaking havoc on my body.
His expression cracks and fills with a yearning I don’t understand, a yearning that looks remarkably like mine, his movements faltering when I tilt my hips and press tighter against him.
“Then, I would have slipped inside you.” Twin, ragged gasps fall in the space between us from both of us when he guides himself inside me.
“Filled you slowly.” My eyes flutter when he sheathes into me, bottoming out, his hands holding me flush against him.
“Taken you just like this.” He kisses my forehead as he begins to rock into me, and I let go.
I give myself up to him, only him, hoping with every beat of my heart that he will hold me together.