Chapter 23
Chapter Twenty-Three
A few days later, I woke up alone in bed. André had done as much as he could from home, but he was working on a sale that had been stressing him out, and had meetings with clients that day.
I had yet to find out what my place was in New Orleans.
I couldn’t work; not until Regan was caught.
Not that I would have any idea on what I would want to do anyway.
I hated my bank job, and didn’t want to go back to that, but anything else seemed meaningless compared to my millionaire real-estate boss boyfriend.
So, I did what I knew how to do: I tended to the house.
Clutter had built up over the apartment again, and I hated clutter.
I knew it had to be taking a toll on him as well.
He’d gotten tense, often burying himself in work when he thought I was sleeping.
He never let me see it, but I knew how stressed he was.
I collected all the trash, washed what laundry I could, and gathered his suits together to be cleaned. My energy wavered as I was cleaning the master bathroom, but I at least wanted to have a meal ready for him when he got home.
That was when he walked in the door. The food was nearly done, and I had a drink poured for him and sitting on the side.
André kicked off his shoes, dropped his bag, and went into the bedroom.
He must have expected me to still be in bed, because he doubled back to the kitchen with his brow furrowed. “Someone’s been busy,” he remarked.
I handed him his drink, accepting the kiss he offered me. “Well, it’s the first day I haven’t felt like death, so I figured I’d take care of you tonight.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
“I want to.”
“Well, thank you.”
I tipped my head back, silently requesting another kiss. André was a physical person and with my skin being so sensitive, I hadn’t wanted to be touched. He never made me feel guilty about it, but I knew he missed it.
Pulling off, I dragged my teeth across his bottom lip. André groaned and swayed, lightheaded. My chest swelled. I could do that with just a kiss?
“Sit down,” I told him. “Dinner’s almost ready.”
André seemed to shake himself back to reality, sitting on one of the barstools. “How’s it going with that big sale?”
André spun his glass around on the marble, sighing. “I don’t know if I’ll get this one. The guy is being really indecisive. It could be the biggest deal of my career.”
I filled a bowl with the pasta dish I’d made, setting it in front of him. “You’ve got this. I know you do.”
André watched me tidy up the kitchen. When I’d returned from handling the trash, he was closing up the dishwasher.
“I’ve got that,” I said. “Take your drink and go sit down.”
As I suspected, he didn’t fight me. That dishwasher was the bane of his existence.
I found him lounging on the couch, one arm draped over the cushions. He stared at the TV, but I got the sense that he wasn’t taking any of the show in. Sitting next to him, I sidled close to his side, arresting his attention. His arm carefully dropped, draping across my back. “Is this okay?”
“It’s perfect.”
I rested my head on André’s shoulder, hand on his thigh.
Finishing off his drink, he leaned forward to place the empty glass on the table.
My hand slid up, reminding me how long it had been since we’d had sex.
Though André didn’t comment. He only relaxed, head falling to the back of the couch—but his legs fell apart.
Eyes on the TV, I began to rub his thigh.
My fingers tickled across sensitive skin, creeping higher with each pass.
When I brushed the head of his thickening cock through his sweats, he let out a low groan, squirming.
“You don’t have to,” he panted, as if he were holding onto his last thread of control.
“Oh, trust me, I want to.”
I lunged, grasping the bulge between his thighs. André moaned, louder this time as I squeezed.
“I know it’s been a while.” I shifted to lift myself to my knees on the couch and leaned into his neck. “You’ve been so good to me. Let me be good to you.”
André didn’t protest anymore, drawing his bottom lip between his teeth. I massaged his shaft while he watched through heavy-lidded eyes. His hips rolled against my palm. Pressure built low in my belly, but I ignored it. It was André’s turn right now.
Grinding against his hip, I leaned in to suction my lips to his neck. Heat pooled beneath my tongue. I lapped and sucked at the skin until André writhed against me, begging for more. I happily obliged, knocking his legs apart and kneeling between them.
Muscular thighs twitched beneath my fingertips.
I ran my hands up his legs, hooking my fingers behind his sweats and tugging them down.
His hard cock sprang free, all but leaping into my palm.
Clear liquid leaked from his slit. My thumb brushed it away, massaging it into his skin as I gave him one long stroke.
André lifted his hand, spearing his fingers through my hair and urging me forward.
My tongue darted out to lick across his cockhead. André’s taste flooded me, spurring me onward.
I sucked, lips chasing the path of my hand.
His legs quivered to either side of my head.
André clenched his hand tight in my hair, encouraging each firm suck.
A whimper pressed through his lips, and I smiled around his cock He’d reduced me to a whining, whimpering mess more than once.
It was well past time for a little payback.
André fucked into my mouth, tightening his grip until my scalp stung.
Precome leaked from my slit, slicking up my pants but I didn’t care André thrusted, and the soft moans gave way to rapid pants.
He was close, and with the press of my tongue against his most sensitive spot, he erupted.
His hips bucked, his cock pulsing his release down my throat.
Eagerly, I swallowed it down, palming my own erection to ease the pressure.
“Fuck!” he growled, tugging me off when he became too sensitive.
I sat back on my heels, wiping my mouth off with my thumb. “Was that okay?”
“Perfect,” André huffed, chest heaving. His eyes sank pointedly to the erection tenting the front of my sweats. “You feeling okay?” I nodded. “Good,” he said, lips curling into a sinister grin. “It’s your turn.”
André hauled me to my feet and tugged me into his lap.
My knees landed to either side of his thighs, my eyes rolling back in my head when he tugged my hips down.
In one swift move, he had my pants down and my cock in his hand.
He leaned over and spat into his palm, massaging it into my shaft.
My hips stuttered. I was close, and when André squeezed his hand, my orgasm raced down my spine.
Panting, I fucked into André’s fist. Lips met my neck, and he whispered soft praises against my skin. “That’s it, baby,” he murmured, nipping at the tender flesh. I gasped, shoving my cock through his palm.
“I’m close,” I wheezed. “Please… please let me come.”
With the brush of André’s thumb over my cockhead, my body didn’t wait for anyone’s permission. I came hard, white ropes coating André’s hand. He watched with rapt attention, wetting his lips.
The high faded, and shame colored my cheeks. “I’m sorry.” André brought his hand to his mouth and I whimpered, watching as he licked my release off his fingers.
I rested back and gasped, feeling André’s erection digging into my ass. “Round two?” he questioned.
Smiling, I nodded, and André lifted me into his arms to carry me to bed.
After, I laid on his chest, tracing soft shapes over his stomach. “Baby, I want you to do something for me,” I said, him wiggling beneath my touch. I didn’t use pet names often, but it was something I wanted to work on—and André clearly loved it.
“What’s that?”
I peered up at him. “I want you to get up Monday morning, put on your best suit, and bring the hammer down on that guy who’s jerking you around. Close that fucking deal—just like I know you can do.”
André laughed, lips meeting my forehead. “You got it baby. But if it works, you know we’ll have to do this every time, right?”
I’d be okay with that.
The next morning, I woke up to André setting my meds on the nightstand with a full glass of water. “Morning, sleepyhead.”
“What time is it?”
“Almost noon.”
I flipped onto my back and stretched. “I won’t apologize. You wore me out.”
I took the antibiotic and chased it with some water, but left the painkiller. André’s eyes landed on it when he came out of the bathroom. “Do you not want that?”
“No, I don’t need it today.”
André looked at me, searching my face for any hint of a lie. “Are you sure?”
“I’m sure,” I said. “They make me feel sick, and I’m over it.”
After a brief pause, André smiled. “Go get dressed. I’ll take you out.”
God, I never thought I’d miss the feeling of the sun on my skin. I hadn’t left the apartment in days, and I was starting to feel the effects.
André led me to a small café, where I proceeded to eat everything I could get my hands on. André sipped at his boring black coffee, picking at a grilled sandwich while I inhaled everything in sight. Somewhere around the third sandwich, I slowed. My stomach was so full that my jeans dug into me.
André laughed as I sat back in my seat, stealthily undoing my button. “Don’t you judge me,” I mumbled through a mouthful of food.
He raised his hands in surrender. “I’m not, cross my heart.”
I opened my mouth to respond, but flinched when a hand landed on my shoulder. Startled, I knocked my silverware, sending it clattering to the floor.
André looked over my head and smiled, but I didn’t relax until Amanda came into view, a baby carrier hanging off her arm. André pulled over a fourth chair as Amanda lowered herself into the empty one.
“How are you darlin’?” she asked me, lifting the little pink bundle from the car seat. “I heard you were pretty sick there for a while.”
“I’m fine, you really don’t have to worry about me. I’m just really sorry that you got swept up in—”
“Honey, you don’t owe me an explanation. I have a clean bill of health, and Charlotte was born on my grandmother’s birthday. I think it was a blessing in disguise.”
I looked at the swaddled blanket in her arms. Charlotte was fast asleep. A rosy-cheeked face poked out of the blanket, dark lashes sweeping her cheekbones. Something tugged at my chest.
“You want to hold her?”
I couldn’t respond before Amanda handed the baby over. Noting that I wasn’t her parent, Charlotte’s deep, ocean blue eyes crept open. I bounced her slightly, and she settled once more. Sensing eyes on me, I glanced up to find André watching us with a glimmer in his eye.
I’d never thought about wanting kids. I always thought there would be time to think about it later. Then later came, and I ended up with Regan. There was no way I was going to bring a child into that environment, so I gave up on the idea. But now?
I banished that thought as quickly as it came. André might not want kids.
I still tired easily and my full stomach made me really uncomfortable. I tried to signal to André that I was ready to go home, but he kept finding things to talk about, so I held the baby until she got fussy. Amanda fastened her back into her car seat and finally, André and I began the walk home.