FIXED ON YOU TRILOGY: Jayoncé ❤️ 18+🥵🔥

CHAPTER 9: LATCH ON

Chapter Nine
  I must have dozed. When I woke, Shawn stood over me, pulling a comforter over my naked body.
  “Sleep, precious,” he said as I struggled to sit up. He’d put on a pair of sweats, but he still smelled like sex. My belly tightened in response to his scent. Would my lust for Shawn never be satisfied?
  He brushed a kiss on my forehead. “I need to order dinner. Chinese okay?”
  I stretched. “Sounds delicious.”
  “I’ll call it in.”
  I watched his gorgeous backside as he left the bedroom, luxuriating in what was left of my post-sex high. God, I felt good. I hadn’t been fucked like that in…well, ever. The care and attention Shawn delivered as a lover left little to be desired. Of course, that made me want him. Again.
  I tugged the comforter tighter around me, an uneasy feeling creeping over me. I tried to dissect its source. The fact was I felt comfortable—too comfortable. My number one rule in avoiding unhealthy attachments was to avoid attachments in general. Getting comfortable was too close to attached. And there was no way I could get attached to Shawn.
  A tenuous ball of anxiety began forming in my belly. I could stay through dinner, I decided, but I needed to be dressed and sitting at a table. And then, after the night was over, Shawn and I had to keep our relationship to business only.
  Throwing off the blanket, I began to gather my clothes. I found my panties and slipped them on then reached for my bra.
  “You’re getting dressed?”
  I jumped. Shawn was standing in the doorway, watching me, carrying his shirt and tie that he’d—um, we’d—discarded earlier in the main room. Suddenly feeling awkward at my near nakedness, I crossed my arms over my chest.
  He tossed his clothes on top of the laundry basket then crossed his own arms. Shawn didn’t appear to be hiding as I was, but looked like he meant to scold me. He raised a brow. “Are you in a hurry to leave?”
  I shivered. His gaze and my lack of clothing made it hard to remember why I’d wanted to go. I looked away. He probably wanted me gone soon anyway, having already gotten what he wanted. We didn’t have to pretend otherwise. “Guys don’t usually want me to hang around after sex.”
  “That statement brings up so many issues for discussion that I don’t know where to begin.” He stepped toward me. “What is wrong with men to not…?” He shook his head. “Beyoncé, please don’t group me with other guys you know. I’d like to think I’m not like most of them. And I don’t want to know or think about you having sex with other men. I don’t share.”
  Not meeting his eye, I picked up my shorts from the floor, ignoring the thrill that ran up my spine from his suggestion of possessiveness. “That sounds awfully relationshippy to me. I thought you didn’t do relationships.”
  “I don’t do romantic relationships. Sexual relationships are another thing entirely. Why are you getting ready to leave?”
  Avoiding his question, I dove for my shirt at the foot of the bed, but Shawn beat me to it. “Stop,” he said, holding my shirt out of my reach. He put his finger under my chin so that I would look him in the eye. His brow creased in confusion and his tone held sincerity. “I want you to stay. And, if you are so inclined, I’d prefer that you not be dressed.”
  I wanted to melt under his invitation, but I refused to be affected. “You’re dressed,” I said, crossing my arms over my chest again, sounding like a pouty child. The knot of anxiety was tightening, and I was grabbing at anything I could to try to stand my ground.
  “As soon as the food’s here, I’ll be happy to lose the clothing. Would that make you feel better?”
  “Yes.” But that was my hormones talking. My hormones wanted him naked. And hard. And slippery with sweat.
  But my brain wasn’t sure it was a good idea. “I don’t know,” I corrected.
  Still holding my chin, he brushed my cheek with his other hand. “What’s going on inside your head, precious? Are you going to run off every time we have sex?”
  He wanted to have sex with me again. My girl parts clenched at the thought. But, as my arousal piqued, so did the terror throbbing in my veins. Usually sex ended any interest I had in a guy. Except for before—when nothing ended my interest in a guy and I obsessed about them endlessly. And now—when every part of my body screamed with the need to have more of the man in front of me. Oh, fucking god, was I falling into old patterns?
  I turned away. “I hadn’t really thought this would be more than a one-time thing, Shawn.”
  He grabbed my arm and pulled me to him. “Beyoncé.” He searched my eyes, looking for an answer I knew he wouldn’t find because I didn’t have the answers myself. “If you don’t want to have sex with me again, you need to tell me.”
  “I do!” His hands on me, and his piercing eyes elicited the truth from my lips. “I do,” I said again softly. I threw my arms around him and pressed my face against his chest, nuzzling his hard pecs. He returned my embrace. So warm. He felt so warm and safe and strong. Like he could shield me from whatever scared me. Like the reality of him—the reality of what he was to me—might be enough to keep me from needing more.
  “What is it?” His voice was light. He stroked my hair, and my panic lowered half a notch. “Tell me.”
  Tears
threatened and I was grateful he couldn’t see my face. Was I doomed to live the rest of my life afraid of becoming close to people? To men? “I’m not good at relationships. Of any sort. I have…issues.” What the fuck was I doing? Casual sex meant no sharing of inner secrets. But it felt good to say it.
  “Like what?” Shawn’s hands tangled in my hair, soothing me. “Does this have anything to do with that restraining order?”
  The floor dropped from underneath me. I couldn’t move. “You know about that?” No one knew about that. At least, very few people. Idris, my support group, Megan had heard bits and pieces. But I would never have told Shawn. I broke free of his arms and fell onto the bed, burying my face in the blankets. “Oh, god, I’m so embarrassed!”
  He laughed and lay on the bed next to me, his head propped on his elbow near mine. He rubbed his hand across my backside, massaging my tense muscles. It felt so good that, had I not been dying of humiliation, I’m sure I would have moaned.
  When he spoke, his voice was low and at my ear. “I know intimate things about you, precious—the way you look and the sounds you make when you’re about to come—and you’re concerned about this?”
  I groaned into the bed, half from misery and half from the pleasure I felt from his fingers on my back. I turned my head so he could hear me talk, but away from him so I wouldn’t have to see his face. “It was a big deal. The biggest deal. Like my biggest secret. I thought my brother had buried it.” I rose up on my elbow and turned to eye him. “And are you saying I should be embarrassed about how I look and sound when…you know?”
  “I needed to know anything that might come up about my pretend girlfriend. It wasn’t necessarily easy to find, but not incredibly hard. It’s been buried now.” He cupped my cheek, his eyes growing dark. “And never, never be ashamed of how you look or sound at any time, especially when you’re about to come.” He circled his nose around mine. “I’m honored to be acquainted with you in that way.”
  “I’m mortified.” I let my head fall back on the bed, but stayed facing him. “About the restraining order, I mean. I don’t know how to react to the other.”
  “Why?”
  He ran his hand across my face and through my hair, each stroke setting off an electric charge that sparked in my core. It relaxed me and comforted me and made me feel like Jello. He could have asked me anything right then and I’d have surrendered. “Because it makes me feel all weird and tingly. And turned on.”
  “Fantastic.” He grinned. “But I meant, why are you mortified?”
  “Oh.” I flushed. What I’d said in error was actually less embarrassing than what he had really asked. But since he was still stroking me with that magic hand of his that had more power than Chinese water torture, I answered him that, too. “Because it’s evidence of my crazy. You know, when I said I love too much? The restraining order is part of that, and I like to pretend it never happened.”
  “Then it never did.” He kissed my nose. “We’ve all done insane things in the past. I’d never hold it against you.” He stopped stroking my hair, and looked somewhere beyond me. “Just another reason romantic love holds no interest for me. People get crazy with it.”
  Then he relaxed and focused back on me. “But going back to the heart of this conversation—why does that have a bearing on a relationship between you and me?”
  I sat up, unnerved by how easily he dismissed my past behavior. “I freaked out, Shawn. About a guy.” He wasn’t taking me seriously and I needed him to understand. “Several guys, actually, but it was the last one that ended not well.”
  He sat up next to me, our shoulders brushing. “And do you think you’re going to ‘freak out’ about me?”
  I focused on my hands in my lap. “I really can’t honestly tell you. I’ve stayed away from any relationships for a while so I wouldn’t have to deal with it. Trying to have something now with you—it’s uncharted territory for me.” Truthfully, as scared as I was of falling into unhealthy patterns, I didn’t want to end things with Shawn. And we would be working together. Even if the best course of action was to not sleep with him again, would I be able to resist?
  I looked him in the eyes, wondering if I’d scared him off yet. Because as much as I knew he should run, I hoped he wouldn’t. “I haven’t freaked out so far. With you. And I don’t want to not have sex with you again. I mean…” I turned away, blushing for the millionth time.
  He wrapped his arms around me and nibbled on my ear. “You’re adorable when you’re flustered. I don’t want to not have sex with you again either. So we won’t do that. We’ll have tons of incredible sex instead.”
  I let myself be held in his embrace. “I’m not saying yes, yet.” But wasn’t I? “I have to take this one day at a time.” And what would I do if I woke up one morning completely obsessed with him? As if I could stop things with him at that point.
  “Beyoncé, you might have to take this one day at a time, but I already know there will be tons of fucking between the two of us.” He pulled me closer, and I melted at his words, at his touch. “In fact, I’m going to have to be inside you again before you leave for work.”
  I felt his erection at my bare belly. Instead of being surprised and ashamed that I still wanted him so very much, I decided to relish in it. “Like right now?”
  He kissed me, deeply, his tongue taking over my mouth. Then, just as quickly, he broke away. “Not right now, precious. Dinner’s almost he—” The intercom buzzed before he’d finished his word. He smiled as he stood. Then he headed to the front room, saying over his shoulder, “But your enthusiasm is super hot.”
  I smiled to myself, enjoying the residual tingle from our kiss. Fuck. Dinner was here and I wasn’t dressed. Putting on my own clothes now would be a statement. Staying naked would be too. I sat up and eyed his shirt on top of the laundry basket. It would have to do as a compromise.
  I pulled off my shorts and had barely finished buttoning his shirt when Shawn returned with a bag of food in one hand and two plates in the other. He scanned me up and down, a pleased glint in his eye. “If you have to be dressed, I completely approve.”
  Suddenly feeling playful, I curtsied. “Well, thank you very much, Mr. Carter. I don’t know what I’d do without your approval.”
  He grinned, crossing to the bed. “Should I undress? I said I would.”
  “Not if you want me to actually eat. I’d be much too distracted. And I already have a hard time with chopsticks.”
  Shawn gestured for me to join him on the bed. “Do you need me to feed you?”
  “Hmm. Maybe.”
  We ate together, eating Mongolian beef and Szechuan chicken spread out over the bed. I struggled with my chopsticks, half of my food not making it to my mouth. Every now and then he fed me, and I let him, enjoying being cared for in a way I hadn’t been in a long time, if ever.
  “What are you doing tomorrow?” Shawn asked after he’d left and returned with two glasses of iced tea. “Before work, I mean.”
  I took a swallow, moved that Shawn chose to drink with me when he probably preferred wine. “I’m off work at three tonight. Or tomorrow morning, however you want to look at it. I’ll probably sleep a good part of the day. I work at nine tomorrow night. Why?”
  He reached over to feed me another bite. “I need to take you shopping. You’ll need an outfit for my mother’s charity event.”
  I practically choked on a water chestnut. “Oh my freaking god, one inappropriate outfit and you assume I can’t dress myself. Seriously, I should burn it.”
  “That’s not it at all. I happen to love that outfit and would be very disappointed to find you’d burned it. I actually hope to see you wearing it again. In private, of course.” His eyes glazed, perhaps picturing me in the tight corset I’d worn that night I officially met him. “And I’ve adored every other outfit of yours.” He tugged at the bottom of my shirt—his shirt—that I was wearing. “You have an excellent sense of fashion. But my mother would expect a girl I dated to be dressed…” He paused. “How should I put it?”
  I kind of liked watching him struggle with his words for once. But he seemed miserable so I helped him out. “I get it. I need designer clothes.” I paused, trying to decide if I was offended. “I guess if you want to take me out and buy me expensive clothes, I’m not going to argue.”
  His lips curled slightly. “That’s a beautiful attitude. I’ll pick you up at two. Plan to spend the day with me. And don’t look at me like that—there will only be sex if you want there to be.”
  Of course I’d want there to be. But whether or not I thought it should happen remained to be seen. I let myself consider it. “How do you intend on this working, exactly? Do you text me when you want a booty call?”
  “Sure. Or you can text me. Or we can arrange ahead of time like we did tonight.” Shawn studied me. “What would you say to no condoms?”
  I’d always thought condoms were a drag, but I hadn’t ever been in a committed relationship where I could consider not using them. It struck me as odd that after one time I was having this conversation with Shawn. “I suppose if you’re clean…I’m on birth control. I get the shot. My last STD test was a month ago and it came back clean.”
  “I am clean. I’m checked monthly. And I hate condoms.”
  “Then no more condoms.”
  He smiled and I caught my mistake.
  “If I agree, I mean.”
  “Mmhmm.” He stroked his hand up my bare thigh. Sexual tension hung in the air between us, but my brain screamed at me to be cautious.
  I hugged my knees, casually pulling away from his touch. “You said you expected fidelity—can I expect the same from you? Or will you be using this loft with other women?”
  Shawn moved our leftover dinner to the floor, clearing the space between us. Then he put a hand on each of my knees, pinning me with his eyes. “I’m not a slut, Beyoncé. This loft has been used for sex, yes, but I have it so I can be close to my office, not for fucking.” He stretched a hand out to brush a strand of hair behind my ear. “I will be as faithful as I expect you to be.”

  His nearness, his touch, his promise of fidelity—it stirred my arousal, begging me to give in. But it also tugged at something much deeper, something both familiar and unknown, something I couldn’t name or identify, and I knew if I tried, it—whatever it was—would come rushing up and consume me.
  I scrambled off the bed. “I can’t think about this anymore right now.” I began gathering my clothing.
  “Why are you panicking?” Shawn stood as well.
  I turned to him, suddenly angry—with him, with myself, with my stupid compulsion to cling and drive people away, with my parents for dying and pushing me into that behavior. “You know, it’s all very good and fine for you to say you want a committed sexual relationship. You’ll have no problem remaining unemotionally involved—that’s your default. It’s not my default. Don’t you see what you’re asking of me might be impossible for me to deliver?” I rubbed at my eyes, hoping to stop any tears before they dared to fall.
  Shawn reached toward me, but I stepped away. “The more we have sex, Shawn, the more I’m likely to latch on, and even if you were into that, you wouldn’t be into the level that I latch. So, trust me when I say this has bad idea written all over it. Let’s call this a wonderful—oh, my god, such a wonderful evening—and now we need to move on.”
  His mouth tightened into a straight line. “If that’s what you need.”
  “I do.” I hugged myself, embarrassed by my outburst. “And I need a shower. Do you mind?”
  “Not at all. In there.” He gestured toward the bathroom. “I’ll bring you some towels.”
  He sounded distant, and I immediately regretted pushing him there. Already I missed the warmth of him.
  In the bathroom, I threw my clothes on the black granite counter and avoided looking in the mirror, not liking who I’d see staring back at me. I turned the shower on extra hot, hoping the heat would relieve the chill that had settled on me, and climbed under the heavy spray.
  In there, alone, water and steam embracing me, the tears came freely. I cried soundlessly, surrendering to the hollow loneliness that I had grown accustomed to before Shawn arrived to show me something new.
  Absorbed in my self-pity, I didn’t hear him enter the bathroom with the towels, and when he opened the shower door and slid in to join me, instead of cursing his obvious lack of respect for my wishes to withdraw from him, I abandoned myself and pressed my lips to his.
  He responded without hesitation, kissing me with gentle aggression. When I pulled away to catch my breath, he reached for the bottle of body wash and poured a small dollop onto his hand. Then he began to wash me. He took his time, running his soapy hands over every inch of my body. At my breasts he lingered longer, squeezing and caressing them both, flicking across my nipples with his thumbs. I sighed into the pleasure.
  When he’d thoroughly cleaned the top half of me, he bent to wash my legs, starting with my feet and moving up my long limbs. He moved so slowly, so sensually, massaging the suds into my skin, that by the time his fingers slid through the folds at the base of my belly, I was ready to beg. His thumbs brushed past my clit and I moaned.
  He swept through my folds over and over, and I jerked at each teasing pass. “Shawn,” I said, my teeth gritted, my pussy clenching with need.
  “Is this what you want?” He thrust two fingers inside me, twisting them.
  “Yes!” I gasped. “I mean, no. I want you.”
  His grin was wicked as he continued to grind into me with his fingers. “You’ll have to wait. I’m enjoying making you wait.”
  I wanted to argue, but he added a third finger to his probe and gently squeezed my clit and speech became impossible. I moaned as I rocked back and forth, digging my nails into Shawn’s broad shoulders.
  Just when I’d reached the brink of orgasm, his fingers left my body. I opened my eyes and found him standing in front of me, holding the bottle of body wash. “I need to be washed too.”
  My body ached with yearning, but I was eager to explore him. I hadn’t even fully taken in his naked body, having been too distracted in the bedroom and now in the shower. Lathering my hands up, I began as he had, at his shoulders, but I was too greedy to move slowly. Soon, I’d cleansed all but his Dick. I stared at his giant erection, fascinated by its length and girth. He’d felt big, but I had no idea he was that big.
  I swallowed. Hard.
  “What’s the matter, precious?” I sensed he was smiling, unable to move my eyes from the sight in front of me.
  “Um, wow,” I managed. “I’m a little intimidated.”
  “But it’s already been inside you. You know it fits.” His voice grew ragged. “Touch it, Beyoncé.”
  His command stirred me to movement. I circled my hands around his shaft and stroked his hot silky skin. He felt so firm, so powerful, so perfect. I moved my fist up and down, once, twice, and the third time, he leapt in my hands.
  At the next stroke, he growled and hoisted me up, encouraging me to wrap my legs around him. He pressed my back against the tile wall, his mouth ravaging mine, and in one fierce thrust, he was inside me. I tangled my hands in his hair as he rammed into me, feeling every inch of his Dick filling me and fucking me.
  I cried as my orgasm shook through me, the tremors of it spreading all the way to my toes. Shawn quickened his pace, clutching tighter to my hips so he could pump through my sex as it spasmed around his steel shaft. Several strokes later he released with his own cry, his Dick jerking inside me as he spurted hotly into my sex.
  In that moment, I let myself believe we could be together like that, how he wanted, without becoming consumed, even though I was afraid that I already was.