Distractions (D. SWING)

54

Ghosts

This heart of mine keeps my ethanol laced blood pumping at an unhealthy rate as it climbs new heights of beats bumped per minute. My heart palpitations are drowned out by the voice of little Brandy Norwood as it is being pushed through every speaker connected to the main sound system that is a simple two feet away from the very tip of DeVante's sneakers. "And if I don't let you know then I won't be for real. I could be wrong but I feel like something could be going on. The more I see you, the more that it becomes so true. There ain't no other for me. It's only you." Beams of purple, pink, and blue bounce off of the lightly tinted window of the elevated booth made for special occasions of DJing in Red Riding's Hood, the hottest and newest club in Manhattan that Dalvin's pockets are attached to.

His cold rings pressing deeper into my sides when his grip on my hips tightens, DeVante finds it harder to keep composure as me being in control of this quickie gets the best of him. "Shhhhhiiiiiittt..." His drawn out moan interrupts the creaking of the quaking chair we occupy. My hands wrap around his neck, squeezing the back. How bright his hazel eyes become beneath the pink party lights puts me into a state of hypnosis.

"De, I gotta' stop—" The idea of stopping is easier said than done. Falling from his neck, my hands land on top of his own, the band of my promise ring rubbing against his knuckles. "If I don't stop I'll make a mess."

He ignores me.

DeVante's rude ass ignores me. His lips unfold from being tucked beneath his top row of teeth as they place tender kisses on my neck. I swat away his prying hands that are reaching for the zipper of my dress. After lying to Cas, tonight's DJ, about needing his space for me to privately curse DeVante out and promising to be finished before the record ends, I know that right now is not the time or place to go all the way there with him. He may not care and that is fine. DeVante's got his own reputation in these streets of being 25% of America's favorite Bad Boy R&B quartet. I, on the other hand, am who I am and would love to keep things this way for as long as possible. Not that I am strung up on what people think of me but I truly would prefer if DeVante and I's buckwild crazy sex life was our own business. The best part of it is that nobody truly knows what we do and that always leave space for us to venture out as much as we like without getting caught.

Upon my failure to restrain myself, I feel half of an ounce's worth of happiness seep from between my legs and onto DeVante. "Fuck, De!" I lift myself from his body trying to escape a life lost in the abyss of our rapture.

He yells back, "Why are you yelling me?" I fall to my knees. "Stop trying to save shit for later, Nel. I'll take all you got right now. Why you always do this to yourself? Shit, to us, baby! You..." A vibrato interrupts his attempt to persuade me into having legitimate sex with him in this closed off portion of Red Riding's Hood.

As much as I'd love to argue back with him, his own flesh takes up the space within my mouth that my slick tongue would need to snap back at him. The aggressive bobbing of my head being accompanied by near whimpers escaping the corners of DeVante's tightly pursed lips plays as a background to Brandy's singing. A woman with a true mission can never be stopped, no matter who she is stepping to. Hollow cheeks of mine allow my tongue to flatten out while remaining in my mouth, vocal chords sending shockwaves through his throbbing organ as I hum at the feeling of him palming the back of my head. I pull my mouth away, hands choking his shaft, swilling his tip. His fingers grip a large handful of my hair as his thighs flex. Partially to minimize the mess I need to clean in such a short time, I allow him release an extension of his physical love for me directly onto my tastebuds.

I'd be able to count this two minute and thirteen second session as my a part of my record had I not cheated.

DeVante inhales deeply as I bring myself back to my feet. In the moment that I am pulling my dress back down, he is readjusting himself into his pants. I grab my purse from behind him, reaching into for my miniature packet of disinfectant wipes. DeVante steps to the side and out of the way, per usual, as I wipe down our space. After the day we had sex behind that curtain in the club and he dropped a folded cum filled napkin into someone's drink as we walked back to our section, I took it upon myself to be in charge of clean up when these moments occur. As I stand back up once I am finished tossing the evidence in the trash, I turn around to see him staring at me.