Bounty(152)

I needed him to slam inside, to fuck me hard, but when Deke caught at my entrance, he didn’t thrust deep.

He pressed only the tip in and whispered, “Jussy.”

I was concentrating solely between my legs, my neck straining to hold my head up, eyes to his face but not taking him in.

When he whispered my name, I focused on him.

And I watched his face as slow, so damned slow, so beautifully slow, so goddamned Deke, he slid in…and in…and in, taking his time, until finally, blissfully, he was filling me. A part of me.

Mine.

My fingers spasmed through his.

“Made for me,” I whispered, trailing my fingertips down his spine to the small of his back.

He made a noise. Not a growl, not a rumble, not a groan, a sound that gave me all three before he dropped his head, took my mouth in a slow kiss, and took his time moving in and out of me.

As he did, it felt like he was memorizing my pussy, every centimeter. Not claiming it as his, exalting in what he knew he already possessed.

Adoring it.

Worshipping it.

Worshipping me.

I’d never experienced such beauty. In all I had, in all I’d earned, in all I’d been given, never, not in my life had I received such splendor.

I wrapped both legs around his thighs, trailing my fingertips on the swells at the top of his ass, lazy then faster as his movements came more quickly.

Faster, using my purchase on his thighs to lift my hips to take his thrusts deeper.

Faster, my hand now clutching the hard cheek of his clenching ass.

He broke the kiss. Bending his neck at a sharp angle so his forehead was pressed to my shoulder, my head fell back off the side of the bed. His fingers in mine grasped so hard they brought slight pain as his other hand went between us, his thumb skimming through the hair between my legs until it found my clit.

It pressed and rubbed.

And I was done.

My head shot up and I turned my face into Deke’s neck and cried out when I exploded, my eyes closing, my breath suspending, my vision detonating in bright, my body arching and tightening.

His hand laced in mine jerked both up and I felt him grip my hair as his hips bucked punishingly into mine and my breath came back as I gasped through the final throes of my orgasm, hearing him grunt and feeling him rear through his.

It took a long time before he slowed and settled inside. I felt his hand loosen in my hair so both our hands were just tangled in it, his other hand sliding out from between us to wind around me at the waist. He used that to tug me into the bed so my head wasn’t hanging off.

Through this, he kept his face in my neck and I felt his labored breaths breeze against my skin.

We lay there and another thing that was so Deke, something that made me know he was mine, meant for me: we did it in silence. He didn’t feel the need to rush to speak. Ask me if I was okay. If I came (though he couldn’t miss that, still). If that did it for me. If I needed anything.

He just knew I was okay, he’d made me come, everything he did did it for me and I didn’t need anything but to feel him connected to me, covering me, warming me, reveling in all he’d just given me.

Eventually, he started to work my neck with his mouth, lazy and tender, at the same time he pulled our hands out of my hair and held them to the bed, his thumb idly stroking the side of my palm in casual affection.

Finally, he nipped my earlobe with his teeth before he asked there, “Ready for some breakfast, gypsy?”

This was Deke giving me unconditional beauty and then Deke and me getting on with our day.

“Mm-hmm,” I mumbled my response.

He lifted his head and grinned down at me.

I lifted my head and touched my mouth to his.

I dropped back and saw his face was as it was when Deke woke from sleep. Smooth. Untroubled. Content.

Happy.

I knew the edges would come back. Life was like that. You couldn’t avoid it. You couldn’t erase history.

But I’d take that. I’d take giving him that for even another minute. I’d do anything to give it to him for as long as I could make it last.

And not just because I knew he’d do the same for me (though I loved knowing that).

Simply because he was Deke.

And he was mine.





Chapter Nineteen


Overalls

Justice



Juggling four boxes of pizza, I opened my front door.

I barely got through before Bubba was there, grabbing all four boxes.

“Thanks, Bub,” I muttered.

“You feedin’ me, least I can do is carry the boxes,” he replied.

I gave him a grin and turned to the hubbub that was eight men working in my house.

I did this shouting, “Soup’s on!”

While I shouted, my eyes caught on Deke, who was in my kitchen. A kitchen that was actually beginning to look like a kitchen. I had an enormous island that nearly spanned the space (no countertop), base cupboards (no countertops) and Deke with another dude was setting in my hutch that would sit opposite where the range and the fridge would be.