The Lakehouse

FOURTEEN | 14

⚠️ Some might find this chapter triggering ⚠️

 Joel wanted me to stay longer but I couldn't.

For three reasons: clothes, food and my work. Three things that were all downstairs...where I should be. Where I need to be.

I'm sure Deon knows by now that I haven't been in my room all night, I'm just hoping that I can slip into my room before he sees me like this: wet, wrapped in a towel and with an elated look on my face that even Stevie Wonder could see.

I couldn't hide my expression even if I tried and as I descended the stairs, every part of me wanted to get dressed, take my food upstairs, bring my work upstairs, just to be back with Joel.

My heart was pounding against my ribcage. I couldn't stop thinking about him, his touch, the way he moans my name. Fuck, what have I gotten myself into? I felt my lips curl into a smile, and I bite the corner of my bottom lip, looking down at my feet.

Then as I walk off the last step, my smile quickly goes away. Deon standing there, just outside his open door, his eyes locked onto mine with a judgmental glint that starts to scrape away at my insides.

I knew that look. I remember that look. He used to look at me like this, years ago. But this look felt heavier. It meant he knew. He knew exactly what Joel and I had been doing upstairs.

I thought I would feel shameful, embarrassed, but for some reason I don't care. I don't care that he knows and I don't care about his judgment. Because I'm not that scared little girl who used to hide in the shadows anymore. I'm a grown ass woman who just came back from an undeniably exhilarating fuck session, and that I'm allowed to make my own choices. So, I met his gaze, practically daring this nigga to say something.

"What?" He didn't respond, just kept staring with those piercing eyes that seemed to strip me of my momentary joy. He looked mad, the kind of mad that could shatter glass or bones without reason. Still I waited for him to say something. No words.

Thought so.

I roll my eyes, turning my heel to walk to my room, and as I try to close the door behind me, it doesn't shut all the way. Deon's hand catches it, and he forces the door back open in my direction.

"Deo—" His action causes my towel to fall and my body stumbles backwards. He closes the door quickly, then inches closer to me.

With every step he takes towards me, I take one back, until I'm on my bed. The anger in his eyes has my heart pounding. I put my hand up to try and force him back when he hovers over me, but I can't even move him away from me at all. I whimper and my breasts shake as the bed dips inward, him climbing over top of me.

Wrapping his thumb and index finger to squeeze around my throat, he forces me to look into his eyes.

"You think this shit you're doing is cute? Hm?"

I don't say anything because how can I? His grip is too tight, even with my clawing away to try and loosen his hold. I can't breathe and I want to look away, but for some reason I keep his gaze.

"You think it's funny? Fucking with me?" He reaches down below, grabbing the area between my thighs and it hurts. "Giving away something that was supposed to be for me, and only me?"

I'm confused, because Deon's never been like this...possessive.

With his thumb, he continues to apply pressure to my throat, not enough to make me pass out, but the force was there, the pain was there.

But his other hand, the hand caught in between my legs is slippery now, from the apparent wetness my body emits for him. He looks down, then back up at me and a smile tugs at the corner of his lips because he knows he's got me just where he wants me.