Bounty(157)

And Deke had me, holding me up, his fingers relentlessly working me, pushing me further, the orgasm burning through me, making me shudder in his hold, and only when the burn started to subside did he gently slide his hand away, cupping my ass with it.

His other hand sifted into my hair to cup the back of my head and that was when he kissed me.

When he was done kissing me, I was done coming, and as he slowly lifted his head, I slowly opened my eyes.

“Think I might like these fuckin’ butt-ugly things now,” he teased.

My eyes narrowed.

He grinned, pressed his hard cock in my belly and put his mouth to mine. “Shower blowjob payback, baby.”

My clit convulsed.

His grin got bigger like he felt that happen himself.

Cocky.

Hot.

Fuck me.

Deke.

He pulled his hand out of my pants and grabbed mine.

He then dragged me to the shower.

I had a big one, room enough for four of us.

Definitely room enough for a shower blowjob.

If that was in question, Deke and I answered that question.

There was room enough.

Definitely.



* * * * *



The next night, I walked out of the bathroom dressed for dinner at The Rooster, my high-heeled western boots dangling from my fingers, but I stopped on a stutter step when I saw Deke.

Apparently, although Deke said he’d never wear a suit, that didn’t mean he wouldn’t spruce up.

And Deke Hightower spruced up was a sight to see.

Dark-wash jeans and a forest-green, button-up shirt that skimmed the lines of his torso, that narrow waist widening to broad shoulders, a powerful upper-body V highlighted by that amazing shirt doing a number on me.

Not to mention, even from across the room, I saw that shirt made the hazel of his eyes a lot less hazel and a lot more green.

He had his man-bun up as usual and his beard was way bushier than it had been when first I saw him again. Actually, as far as I knew (and I definitely knew once we got together), he hadn’t trimmed it once.

It looked awesome.

“Wow,” I said, moving my gaze from his feet in boots that were also better than the normal ones he wore that I’d seen (these being work boots and motorcycle).

Although I’d recovered enough to speak, the look I caught on his face again winded me.

And I knew I’d chosen the right dress.

Now that I was settling in, the house getting done and I’d begun nesting, Joss, who always held on to a lot of my stuff considering I never stayed anywhere long enough to keep it all with me, had promised to send it.

So I didn’t have a lot of clothes Deke had not seen.

The dress I was wearing was, as far as I knew, the only remaining piece.

It was a soft taupe with a muted pattern of rust, orange and turquoise. It had an empire waist, the cleavage cut to it. It was formfitting from midriff down to my waist, flowing out at hips. It had long, three-quarter sleeves that gathered at the ends and the dress fell to my ankles.

It also had a deep slit that was more than a slit. It was a rounded opening that started at mid-thigh.

This was the best part of the dress, I thought, especially when I moved, the skirt flowing out behind me, exposing boots…and legs.

It was sexy boho rad in the extreme.

Deke might not like my baggy overalls.

But he felt differently about that dress.

He didn’t need to say it, his look did.

But he said it anyway.

“Nice dress, gypsy.”

The words came out in a thick rumble that, coupled with his look, completed what he didn’t say. A line used so often it had long since lost its hotness.

A line left unsaid but spoken nonverbally the way Deke was doing it that was hot in the extreme.

That being he liked my dress.

But he was going to like it more when it was on the floor.

I was going to like it more when it was on the floor too.

Tangled with his fucking shirt.

“Are we gonna jump each other and be late for dinner?” I asked.

“Tempting,” Deke answered.

We stood there staring at each other.

“Baby, put your boots on,” he eventually ordered. “I can see with that hair and that dress that those boots are gonna torture me all night. But to do all I’m gonna do to you later, I need steak.”

That sent a tremor through my whole body.

“You like my hair?” I asked.

I’d done a lot of braids falling and twists back from my face, but the back fell free in natural waves and curls to my waist.

“Babe.”

He said no more.

He liked my hair.

I lifted up my boots. “You like my boots?”

“Jussy,” he growled.

I grinned.

“You do know we’re goin’ to dinner with my boss,” he noted.

My grin died along with my fun.

I needed to be cool and we needed not to be late.

“Sorry, honey.”

Deke moved to me, got close and put his hands on my hips.