Since we ditched anyway, I take Naomi to my devil’s lair.
Kidding. Just my apartment.
While I love chasing the fuck out of her in the forest, I want to debauch her in all ways possible inside my home.
I watch her inquisitive gaze as she takes in the modern setting of my house. It’s all in gray, black and white. Though, I only saw the world in the two extremes of those colors before her.
Her eyes widen the slightest bit when she watches all her surroundings as if making sure there’s always an exit option. Her distrustful nature is cute, but she needs to get rid of it when around me.
I suppose that would happen with time.
I grab an apple bottle juice from the fridge and toss it to her. She catches it, then we sit together on the sofa across from the TV. I inhale her in, filling my lungs with lily and fucking peaches. It’s become a fix now, a drug I need constant doses of but could still never get enough
“Why did you bring me here?”
“What type of question is that? To fuck the shit out of you, of course.”
A delicate blush covers her cheeks. “Do you have to be crude?”
“Crude is what I do.”
She slurps from her juice and lifts her chin. “I want to watch the newest true crime show first.”
“Are you seriously picking true crime over fucking?”
“Everyone has different priorities,” she teases, struggling to hide her smile, and failing.
“I’m going to have a talk with those serial killers and Netflix for producing them like candy.”
“HBO Max, too. And Hulu.”
“You think this is funny?”
She nods with a huge grin as she reaches to the remote and turns on Netflix. I steal it out of her hand. “We’ll have a bet.”
“You and your bets. What now?”
“Are you a scaredy cat?”
She tips her chin defensively. “No!”
“Then you’ll win this rather easily.”
“Win what?”
“Instead of true crime, we’ll watch a horror movie. If you shriek, close eyes or hide, I win. And that means we’ll go with my ‘fucking the shit out of you’ plan, which includes countless orgasms, by the way. If you do none of those, we’ll watch true crime. One episode, though, then we’ll go back to my plan.”
She laughs, the sound is like fucking music to my ears. I love knowing that she’s a closed off person on the outside but is a mushy girl with me.
Only me.
After she agrees to the bet, I put on The Conjuring. That shit apparently made a few of the cheerleaders cry with horror, as per Owen’s retellings, so I trust it’d work.
I don’t watch it, though. My entire attention stays on her.
She’s still slurping from her juice, but as the time goes by, the straw is there, but she’s gulping her own saliva instead of the juice.
Ominous music from the film fills the room which means there’ll be a spooky scene soon. I slowly reach a hand behind her, keeping it on the sofa. When the jump is about to happen, I touch her shoulder.
Naomi shrieks, jumping up, then hiding her head in my lap as she throws the bottle of juice away. Her chest hits my thigh and I can sense her skyrocketing pulse.
I burst out laughing as I wrap my arm around her back. “You lose, baby.”
“Screw you, okay?” She peeks up at me, making sure to not make eye contact with the screen. “That’s cheating.”
“I call it gaming the system.”
“Asshole.”
“You’re such a scaredy cat for someone who worships at true crime’s shrine.”
“They’re not the same.” She motions at the TV, still hiding. “Can you turn it off?”
“Maybe I want to continue watching it.”
“Sebastian!”
“Yes, baby?”
“Don’t you want to…you know?”
“I don’t know. Why don’t you remind me?”
Naomi runs her hand over my dick and although it’s through the material of my pants, it’s like she stroking my bare skin. My erection jumps to life and she takes it as an encouragement to fasten her pace.
I groan, throwing my head against the sofa.
Her touch is still innocent like the first time, but it’s more explorative now, curious. She’s a fast learner, my Naomi.
“Turn it off,” she coos in a breathy tone.
“Are you going to take me at the back of that pretty throat?”
She licks her lips. “If you want.”
“You’ll make me nice and wet for when I will fuck you?”
“No.”
“No?”
“You’ll make me.” She bites her lower lip. “Please make me.”
Fuck me.
Only she would ask me of these things and make it sound like a fucking erotic dream. Her crazy matches mine, after all, and I’m a lucky bastard to have stumbled upon it.
A low groan spills from me as I fumble for the remote. The moment I turn off the movie, a loud sound echoes in the air.
At first, I think it’s a bomb or something. But it comes again. My fucking doorbell.
I dig my fingers into her hair. “Open your mouth.”
“Shouldn’t you see who is it?”
“Don’t fucking care. They will go away.”
She’s unsure for a second, but I unbuckle my belt and free my cock. Naomi takes me to the back of her throat, just like she promised.
I grab her by the hair. “That’s it. Make it nice and wet.”
Her eyes meet mine as she sucks and licks, her cheeks hollowing. I’m two seconds away from pushing her on all fours and fucking her on the ground, animal style.
The distinctive sound of a ‘Beep’ echoes in the silence and I freeze.
Only one person knows the code to my apartment in case of an emergency.
And sure enough, he appears at the threshold of my living room, carrying his briefcase. His expression remains the same as he takes in the scene in front of him. “Am I interrupting something?”
“Fuck, Nate.” I hide Naomi with my body so he doesn’t see her flushed face or her lips around my dick. The last thing I want is for any man, Nate included, to witness her in this state.
She releases me and scrambles away, her face heated.
I tuck my painfully hard cock in and glare at my uncle aka the fucking cockblocker. “Ever heard of the word privacy?”
“You weren’t answering the door or your phone so I thought there was an emergency.” He runs his critical gaze over Naomi. “It’s a different type of emergency, I see.”
She winces, then stands up. “I’m…I’m going to go.”
I grab her by the wrist and pull her back to my side. “If anyone needs to leave, it’s him.”
“Nonsense.” Nate places his briefcase on the sofa. “Let’s make dinner and talk.”
“Or you can walk out of the door and leave us alone?” I suggest.
He ignores me and offers his hand to Naomi. “Nathaniel Weaver. I’m this rascal’s uncle and guardian of sorts.”
“I’m twenty-one. I don’t need a guardian.”
“Don’t believe what he tells you. He does,” Nate whispers to her with his charming smile.
Naomi smiles back, taking his hand. “Naomi Chester. Sebastian and I…study at the same campus.”
“The girl from TV has a name,” Nate says and she blushes again.
I jump up and break them apart. I don’t like that he’s using his rare kind persona, and I don’t want her to ever think of him as someone charming.
He’s my uncle and I hate him right now. Fucking sue me.
“The rascal doesn’t bring his girlfriends home.”
“We’re not really…”
“We are,” I say firmly, cutting her off.
Nate smirks and I flip him off. The bastard knows I’m acting out of character and he won’t let me live this down.
“Let’s have that dinner,” he says and heads to the kitchen area.
“Sure.” Naomi starts to follow, but I keep her at my side.
“Are you on my side or his?” I hiss in her ear.
“I want to meet your uncle. Besides, you’re being rude,” she murmurs back.
“He’s the one being rude by barging in here,” I say aloud.
“I heard that, Rascal.”
“Good. Leave, then.”
“No.”
“Grandma said she wants to see you.”
“Hearsay.”
“I’ll send her a picture that you’re here as evidence.”
“Circumstantial. Now, come make yourself useful.”
Naomi chuckles softly and I poke her side. “What are you laughing at?”
“You and your uncle have a loveable relationship.”
“I call it ‘he’s a pain in the ass’ relationship.”
“It’s loveable, anyway. I like seeing you this way.”
“What way?”
“Human, I guess. Real.”
“You, however, are always real.”
She leans in and kisses my cheek. “I’m more real with you.”
Before I can grab her and use PDA to kick Nate out, she slips from between my fingers and goes to the kitchen.
I follow after, grumbling, and contemplating how to get rid of my uncle.
We end up having more fun making dinner, as my uncle and I banter and Naomi joins in the teasing. When we sit down to eat, it feels…like home.
The one I lost when I was six years old.
