12. Juniper
I’m embarrassed at how easily I fall apart when he touches me—when he looks at me. It’s like a flurry of electric pulses fire off at once in every nerve ending in my body and I’m going to explode.
“Mmm,” he moans around his fingers as he pulls them from his lips. His eyes are closed like he’s savoring the taste of me in his mouth. “Fuck, you taste so good.” Now his dark eyes fly open as he closes the distance between our lips. I can taste the tartness of my own release on his tongue. “I need your scent in my beard again.” His moves grow frenzied, his hands gripping my thighs as he wraps them around his waist.
I break the kiss, glancing up to our left. He follows, his eyes spotting the camera a second after mine.
“That’s your only saving grace. Otherwise, I’d have you pinned to this wall with my cock.”
He slides me down to my feet, spinning me toward his truck and grabbing a handful of my ass as he leans down and whispers gruffly in my ear, “I want to sink my teeth into you.”
I can say with absolute certainty that no man has or ever will handle me like Decker Slade—the way his words make me want to throw away every rule, every caution, and just leap. But this is just tonight. This is sex; this is physical. We’ve had no talks about what this is or if it even is anything, and I’m not about to overthink it and ruin it.
He peels out of the parking lot in his urgency to get us home, but I have a plan.
“Slow down,” I say, reaching over to place my hand on his thigh as I run my tongue up his neck.
“Oh?” he says, confused for a second until my hands reach for his belt and undo it. “Ohhh,” he says again, a knowing groan escaping his lips as my hands wrap around him.
“Eyes on the road,” I whisper before ducking my head into his lap and taking the tip of his cock into my mouth. The second my lips hit his skin, he has one hand in my hair and the other on the wheel as I begin to work him with my mouth. His breath grows heavy, and a labored fuck yes hits my ears as he pushes my head down to take him further.
I’m taking him deep and slow when the truck starts to decelerate for the one stop sign I know he has to pass to get to his house.
“Shit,” he mutters. “Juney, get up. There’s a cop next to the stop sign. And my window’s down.”
But I don’t stop. Instead, I take him the deepest I can, the sounds of my efforts filling the cab as he slows to a complete stop.
“Everything good?” His voice is strained and he keeps his hand on my head to push me down harder. I can’t hear what the officer says, but a few seconds later, we’re moving again and Decker is telling him good night. Once we’re past the flashing red and blue lights, I slowly pull myself from him and sit back, wiping my mouth.
“What was that about?”
Decker is white-knuckling the wheel, his eyes staring straight ahead. “Jesus fucking Christ, I was a second from blowing, Juney. Fuck, why’d you stop?” He hits the wheel.
“You said to get up,” I say innocently, knowing it’s only going to make him more frustrated.
“Before the cop!” he shouts, and I can’t hold back my laughter.
“I know, I was just having some fun with you. Should I finish?” I reach for him but he pushes my hand away and stuffs himself back into his jeans.
“No, I’ve got other plans for you.”
“What was that about anyway?”
“I think just a speed check or something.”
“Is someone going to pout now?” I run my hand over his arm.
“I’m not pouting. Just thinking of how I want to take it out on you.” We pull into the ranch, taking the winding road to his house. He whips the truck around, backing it into his six-car garage, then puts it in park and stares at me. “Any suggestions?”
We both watch as he traces a single finger up my thigh. He moves with purpose, like the way he can maneuver a massive truck so easily. I want to scream and rip his clothes—then mine—off because of the anticipation. It feels like every time I’m alone with him, the air grows charged and there’s an unspoken whisper of what’s to come.
“Kiss me,” I say softly.
He reaches his other hand around and presses it against my neck to pull me toward him. His lips caress mine gently, his tongue slipping past them only for a second before pulling back just before it turns into something more. I lean forward, wanting more, but he holds me still.
“Greedy.” He leans in and nips my lips again. “I plan to do a lot more of that, but there’s one thing that keeps coming to mind when I think about what I want to do to you.”
“What’s that?” I barely squeak the words out with my suddenly-dry mouth.
“I want you at my mercy.”
“Meaning?”
His hand is still tangled in my hair, resting against my neck. “Meaning I get to use you over,” he kisses me on the corner of my lips, “and over,” he kisses the other corner, “and over again.” Then he kisses me—really kisses me—until I’m left breathless. “And you get to do nothing but take it.”
By the time we’re inside the house and our clothes are off, strewn down the hall piece by piece, I am completely and utterly at his mercy. He has me naked, spread out on a giant ottoman in his living room, as he laps at me after my first orgasm. His tongue dances across my clit, sending an aftershock through me that has me squeezing my thighs against his shoulders.
We don’t bother trying to make it upstairs. His hands are in my hair, my lips on his as we fall to the floor in a tangled mess.
“Everything about you is perfect.” His words come out in a rushed pant as I ride him, his hands now on my back as he licks and bites at my nipples. I slide up and down his length, my head falling back in pure lust.
This is what sex should feel like. This is what it felt like in my fantasies. But the two guys I had sex with before Decker felt nothing like this. This feels like ecstasy, like we’re connecting in every way possible, like it’s not just sex.
“Look at me.”
I pull my eyes back to his. His hand slides up my slick back, grabbing my nape as leverage to pull me down harder.
“Ohh, God, I can’t,” I groan when he goes that deep, stretching me to my absolute limit.
“You’re gonna take it either way, Juniper.” He doesn’t relent, and my body aches with need. “Absolutely no mercy.” He groans. We’re both so close, right on the edge, and then, without another word, we both come undone. I dig my nails into his back as I ride out the last waves of pleasure.
“Trying to mark me?” It sounds genuine rather than sarcastic, and the way he’s looking at me right now has me wondering if it’s more of a request than a question.
“Maybe,” I say softly, my eyes searching his for reassurance.
“Mmm.” He leans into my neck, his cock pulsing inside me as he presses his lips against my warm skin. “You’re gonna make me hard again, baby.”
“And you’re going to make me sore.”
“Good.” He flips me onto my back on the ottoman, coming to his knees. He places one bent knee out at ninety degrees as he grabs my hips and pulls me onto him. “Tomorrow, I want you to remember how good I fucked you.” He picks up the pace, his hips slapping against my ass. “I want you to think of me every single time you move.” He leans over me with one hand above my head on the ottoman, his hips tilting up when he hits the end of each stroke, causing me to gasp every time. “Just like I’m going to think of you every time I look in the mirror and see those scratches on my back.”
I’m done. I can’t fight the fact that I’m still in love with this man, now more than ever. No matter how much I want this to just be a fun summer fling so I can finally move on from the hold he has on me, I know that what we’re doing is only going to make it harder.
I want it all with him: the kids and pets and family vacations. But everyone knows Deck has always been a ladies’ man with no intentions of settling down.
The night falls into waves. We go from passionate and tender to rough and demanding.
Decker bends me over, commanding I keep my ass in the air for him to enjoy, with a slap that echoes around the room and leaves my ass red and stinging.
But then he’s tending to me, holding me, telling me I’m the most beautiful woman he’s ever touched, ever kissed, while sliding into me gently. Finally, he carries me upstairs, tucking me into bed with his arms around me, and pulling me tight against his chest.
“Good night. No running away this time.”
“Coffee?”I extend a mug toward Decker when he walks into the kitchen. The look of surprise on his face probably matches mine as I see him walk toward me in a fitted navy suit with his cowboy boots and hat.
“Thought I was the only one who got up before the sun.” He takes the coffee and leans against the counter next to me.
“Pretty fancy to tend to a ranch?”
“Oh,” he looks down at himself, “heading to Denver today with my pops and Ranger. Gotta go kiss some politician’s ass or some shit.”
“Well, you look nice.”
More like deliciously drop-dead fuckable.
“Thank you. How are you feeling?”
“Meh,” I wince and it makes him chuckle. “Let’s just say I’ll be sore for longer than a day.”
“Hmm,” he lets out one of those low, sexy grumbles as he adjusts himself through his slacks, “can’t say that doesn’t do something for me.”
“I figured I’d get up with you since I need a ride back to the bar so I can grab my car and get ready at home before work. Guess I didn’t expect for my night of low-key dancing to end up . . .” I feel my cheeks flush.
“Regret it?”
“No.”
We stand next to each other in silence, sipping our coffee. I’m waiting—hoping—he asks me what I’m doing tonight or tomorrow night or where I see this going.
“I got roped into helping Bernice with the beer tent this year,” he says.
I look over at him. “I’m sure she’ll love that. Pretty sure she’d dive into your bed headfirst without a second thought.” We both laugh and then I wonder. “Wait, you haven’t slept with her, have you?”
“Bernice?” He sounds offended. “Jesus, I know I’ve got a reputation, but the woman is old enough to be my mother’s older sister. She’s a lovely woman, but no.”
“Just making sure. Although,” I scrunch up my nose, “not sure I really want to pull at that thread—the reputation of Decker Slade and the trail of bodies left in his wake.”
He drags his hand slowly over his beard before placing his coffee mug on the counter. “Is that a talk you want to have?”
“Oh,” I wrap my hands around my mug and shake my head, “I was honestly just teasing, being dramatic.” I thought he’d just laugh away my remark; I didn’t expect for the conversation to turn serious. But the way he’s looking at me, I know what he’s asking . . . if I see what’s happening between us as serious enough to have that kind of conversation.
“Does it bother you that I’ve been with several women?”
I shrug nervously, unsure of what I should say. Truthfully, it does bother me in a stupid, jealous way I know I have no control over. It’s just because I sat on the sidelines for so long wishing it could be me.
“Should it? I mean, it’s not really my business, is it? Does it bother you that I’ve been with other guys?” I watch to see if he flinches or his jaw ticks, but he calmly shakes his head.
“No.”
“Not the jealous type?” I tease, poking at his ribs. I don’t know why I do it. The moment I say it, it sounds desperate.
He chuckles. “I didn’t say that. I can be jealous, yes, but I don’t like being made to feel jealous on purpose. That shit gets old fast.”
“Yeah, been there.”
“Isn’t that what you were doing last night?” he says. “With Trevor?”
I’m taken aback. “No, I had no idea he was going to pull me on the dance floor or anything. We were all just talking and having a good time before you got there. It was Trevor being Trevor. He’s harmless.”
I’ve known Trevor for a few years. He transferred to our small high school my junior year, and he was a sophomore. He was the class clown from what I remember—the kid the teachers constantly had to threaten with detention so he’d settle down.
“Honey,” his voice grows serious and he reaches out to take my now-empty mug, “I know you like having a good time with the boys—dancing and flirting—but if they knew what I did to you last night, they’d kill to be me. Every one of them.”
My body quivers beneath his gaze and the way the word “honey” dripped from his tongue, sweet and thick like the nectar itself. I want to beg him to call out of work, but I know my body couldn’t take another round of his appetite.
“And I’m not saying you can’t make your own choices regarding Trevor or anyone else. I just know, if given the chance to be with you, he’d take it in a heartbeat.” He reaches out and brushes my hair behind my ear. “But we both know he won’t fuck you like I did.”
My heart drops even though he plants a sweet kiss on my lips.
“We should get going. You ready?” he asks.
“Yes.” I smile and follow him out to his truck, continuing to laugh and make small talk. All the while, I keep overthinking the way he worded his comments about Trevor.
Is he saying he doesn’t care if I do sleep with Trevor? Was this his way of saying he’s had his fill and we’re done?
I kick myself thinking back to when he asked if it was a talk I wanted to have. I should have said yes. I should have just told him that it does bother me, all of it, especially if we’re going to continue what we’re doing, because I don’t want to share him with anyone else. I don’t want to be his friend with benefits. It wouldn’t be worth it to lie to him—to pretend I’m okay with it because I’m scared to lose what we have.
I debate all through my morning shower and rush to get ready for work. Around the time I pull into work and walk into the empty office, I finally decide I’m going to send him a text. I open our conversation thread and read over the message twice before hitting SEND.
Me: Hey, I’m sorry if this is awkward to ask now, but regarding your question earlier about if it was a conversation I wanted to have with you . . . I do.