Chapter 22
22
DEER
Bryn grinned at me as she shoved a big pink marshmallow onto a wooden skewer, then wrinkled her nose and stabbed a second pale purple one. I snorted into my margarita and rotated my blue marshmallow over the flame of the biggest burner on one of the stoves in Scott’s massive kitchen.
“Where did you find this bag of bi flag ’mallows?” I smirked at her.
“They aren’t really the right colors for that, are they?” she asked, flipping her long blond hair over her shoulder, out of the flame danger zone. Despite the fact that it was freezing outside, she was wearing a red “sweater” that showed off her toned midriff. Her matching pencil skirt clung to her thighs and stopped just above her knees.
“You’re going to spill.” Bryn nodded at the margarita in my other hand that I’d been allowing to wobble all over the place while we talked.
“Shoot,” I muttered, then sipped the tangy, boozy goodness while trying not to burn my marshmallow, which had her laughing.
She lowered her marshmallow tower toward the flame with a wide grin. “This is either the best or worst idea you’ve ever had.”
I concentrated extra hard on not burning my marshmallow. They were best when they were toasty brown, but Bryn ... . “You’re going to set it on fire if you’re not careful.”
“I won’t!” Her skewer dipped, and the marshmallows touched the flames, then became engulfed in less than a second. She shrieked.
We were both laughing so hard we could barely breathe while we blew on the marshmallows to put out the flames. By the time we were done, most of her margarita had been sprinkled around the floor, and I halfheartedly grabbed a dish towel from a drawer and sort of flung it in the direction of the largest puddle of alcohol on the pristine tiles.
“See, that was a bad idea,” she said with a sigh, but then she took a gooey bite out of the crispy marshmallow anyway, humming in contentment as she crunched the black outer shell. I shuddered in horror.
“You like your mess, there, so it was a good idea. But I’m worried that maybe this was a bad idea overall ,” I said, glancing around the kitchen.
“Which thing?” She raised her blond eyebrows, staring as if she was waiting for some sort of monster to pop out and get her.
“Oh, I don’t know.” I rotated my marshmallow carefully over the flame. “Moving in with Scott after having a fight with him? Planning to give up my apartment? Or maybe the dumbest thing is doing brunch with Fionn tomorrow?” I mumbled. Anxiety twisted up inside me. “Scott is going with me for that, thank God.”
“You sounded terribly alone in your apartment. You moving back in with Scott was a wonderful idea.” She knocked her shoulder against mine and almost wreaked havoc on my marshmallow. “You two will work out all the lingering awkward crap. But brunch? Who does brunch these days except for fifty-year-old women after book club?” She rolled her eyes. “Or maybe church.”
“My brother, I guess.” I smirked. “My mom does do a lot of brunches and she fits that demographic.” I wrinkled my nose. “Breakfast is the best meal of the day, so I’m fine with it.”
“Take me with you.” Bryn slugged down the rest of her margarita and set the empty glass on the counter. “I’ll guzzle a gallon of mimosas and act up. You’ll seem way better by comparison.” She slapped a hand on her thigh. “It’ll be fun for everyone.”
“No, that’s okay.” I snickered. “Although, keep your phone handy. If I get stuck with nothing to say to him, I might need you to text me conversation starters.”
“Ask him if he folds his underwear.” She gestured at me with her sticky skewer. “You can learn a lot about someone that way. If they just toss them unfolded into a drawer they like to have nasty sex.” She beamed at me, so I figured that was a good thing to her. Maybe we should’ve eaten dinner before we started in on the margaritas. I was feeling fine, but she was two up on me.
“I don’t want to know that about my brother. Besides, he probably doesn’t fold his own clothes.” I lowered my chin and stared at her.
“Then, you probably shouldn’t make me the friend to phone.” She giggled and attacked her remaining marshmallow as it was starting to slide off the skewer. “So, did you guys have messy makeup sex?”
I blinked at her. “You mean me and Scott?”
She only widened her eyes at me. “Well, I hope so. The other conversational option would be scandalous.”
“Uh, no.” I pulled my marshmallow away from the stove because it was damned near perfect. Golden brown. Bubbly but not mushy. I let out a content sigh. “Scott brought me back here and we slept last night. I was really fucked up with everything that had been going on. I needed the rest more than I needed his dick, and he knew it. He always gives me what I need.”
“I know.” She nudged me with her elbow as I started to sip my margarita, and I sloshed some cold slush down the front of my brown sweater. I glared at her, and she snickered.
“It’s okayish now,” I mumbled.
“Then, where is Mr. Let’s See if My Whole Foot Will Fit In My Mouth?” She narrowed her eyes at me. “The balls on that man.”
“He had a work thing today. He said he would be back.... Well, soon, actually.” I checked the clock over the stove and the brilliant green 7:00 p.m. gave me a sweet surge of adrenaline. “We’re going to hang out tonight. Talk. Do stuff.”
“Do I detect a hint of nerves?” She flicked the tag on my collar, which I had decided I wanted to wear today, and my cheeks flushed. I loved the collar. The leather was soft and supple and smelled masculine. The jewels glittered just right in any light. I didn’t necessarily mind that she was seeing it, but it was also a new thing for me to be open about this side of myself that I was exploring. I was slightly on edge about having it all exposed.
“Maybe.” The word gushed out of me and my face scorched even hotter. “I hope I didn’t ruin anything between me and Scott.” There were a few things I’d kept quiet, like how I’d put him on his knees and treated him as if I didn’t give a shit. I did, though. Nothing could be further from the truth.
She finished off her marshmallow and margarita, nearly at the same time, and then went to the blender, where we’d left the extra, and refilled her glass. “Can you expand on that?” she asked, sounding just like a doc at the front of a lecture hall.
A smile twisted my mouth, but I was too stuck in that moment when I’d rammed my dick past Scott’s lips to really be amused. “The last time we were together I did something that wasn’t me and, uh, well. I’m not sure how to get back to where we were.” I wanted to hide my face, but my hands were full, so I bit my marshmallow and let the sugary perfection soothe me.
She shrugged, and I envied her total lack of concern. “Scott likes you. Even if you don’t figure out how to fix it, he will.” She winked. “We should do this every Friday.” She waited until I gave her an enthusiastic nod, then leaned over and chomped the rest of my marshmallow.
“Hey!” I chuckled because her cheeks were puffed out like a chipmunk with her stolen goods.
“You out here, Fawn? I smell sugar.” Scott’s amused voice carried into the kitchen from the direction of the living room.
Bryn giggled when he strolled in with his long-sleeved black button-up rolled to his elbows and untucked from his suit pants. Without any hesitation, he pulled me close and kissed me. His cologne lingered from this morning, something that reminded me of the forest. How does he always smell so good?
Anxiety tickled along my spine, like a bitter tasting note in the sweet wine we’d had on our date. Despite the flicker of worry, I couldn’t help enjoying his warm mouth and the way he held me tight. He smiled as he leaned back and ran his fingers along the collar on my neck, eyebrows dancing upward. A thousand questions spun behind his curious blue eyes as he peeked at Bryn.
“Beautiful,” he murmured—his only comment on the collar and the fact that I was wearing it in front of company—and I flushed hot all over again.
“You know what? Y’all, I forgot that I have plans!” Bryn drained her glass and plopped it on the counter with a ting , and like some sort of top-tier super spy, she even managed to turn off the burner on the stove on her way past. She brushed a kiss on my cheek as she danced away before spinning around to look at me, blond hair fluttering. “We’re still going to a movie on Sunday, right? Scott, are you going along with us?”
Scott nodded. “Why not? We’ll both be there. You’re going to let my driver take you home and walk you to your door.” He pointed after her and already had his phone out texting someone.
“Fine, sugar!” Her smile was radiant as she twirled and hustled toward the front of the apartment. I didn’t hear the elevator, but I trusted that she’d actually left because she was way on board that Scott and I needed to kiss and make up. A frisson of excitement skittered through my belly. Nerves tangled up my insides, almost as bad as the first time I was in this apartment alone with Scott.
“What were you two celebrating?” he asked, tugging a marshmallow out of the bag on the counter. A crooked grin twisted his lips and made my dick firm up at a dizzying speed.
I shrugged. “Friday. Seemed like a good enough reason.”
He winked and popped the whole marshmallow between his lips. My mouth went dry as he chewed, then sucked on his fingers with a smirk. Fuck, I wanted to be a marshmallow.
Bryn had asked if we’d had makeup sex more than once tonight—she’d forgotten she’d asked the first time, I think. Did I even want that? When I thought of makeup sex, it was angry people fucking until they felt better, but I needed Scott to be calm. The thought of him pissed off at me wasn’t pretty and didn’t make me feel good. I ditched my skewer and glass on the counter, then gently ran my hands up his chest. My pulse raced as I clutched his shoulders, tilting my lips toward him.
He hummed in approval, swooping down to cover my mouth with his. Sugar and something else that was just Scott swarmed my senses. I leaned all my weight against his solid chest. In a flash, he wrapped his arms around me and held me tight.
“I don’t ever want to do what I did the other night again,” I murmured against his lips. “I’m sorry I did that to you.” I wouldn’t call myself tipsy or even buzzed, but clearly my drink had loosened my tongue a bit.
Scott snorted, and I was relieved to see that there was an amused gleam in his eyes. “Fucking my face? I rather liked that.” He bit the corner of his lip.
“Why?” I croaked out.
“Because you used me to feel good.” He peppered kisses over my cheeks, then lingered sweetly on my lips. “That’s all I ever want. To make you feel amazing.”
“That wasn’t me,” I whispered, then scratched my fingernails along the five-o’clock shadow on his jaw. “I don’t like being upset with you when I do... those things.”
He brushed my hair off my forehead, which never failed to send a needy shiver down my spine. “Don’t hold back on my account. Long as you enjoyed it, I’m fine with it.” He sounded sincere and his gaze on mine was steady. Some of the tension eased out of my body. He nipped along the collar—his claim on me—and sucked on my neck until it ached in the best way. “I’d love to do anything that has you screaming my name.”
“I didn’t like the way I felt afterward.”
He leaned back to stare down into my face.
“Aggressive. Violent. That isn’t me. And when we’re together, normally everything is so blissed out. I can forget about everything except you. That’s what I want.”
Scott moaned and cupped my face as he dove in for another kiss. This time he didn’t stop. He ran his fingers gently along my collar, then slipped my sweater up and over my head. It fell to the floor, where it no doubt started to soak up the margarita mess. The thick fabric was quickly followed by the T-shirt I’d had underneath. He wasted no time and simply unbuckled my belt before shoving it—along with my jeans and boxers—down to the floor. He broke the kiss long enough to help me peel off my damp socks while I hopped on one foot, then the other.
My laughter was still echoing around the kitchen when he put his hand in the center of my back. I immediately understood and sank to the floor on all fours. He paced around, his attention focused fully on me, and my body caught fire, an arc of electricity bouncing all around my insides as if I’d stuck my finger in an outlet. There was a sense of building anticipation hanging over everything. Even the air seemed to tremble. As he strolled past the blender, he picked it up and finished off the bit of margarita left in the bottom, and I couldn’t help but smile up at him.
With a decisive hum, he snagged the bag of marshmallows and tugged one out. He walked in front of me and dangled the marshmallow down toward me.
“Here, little fawn. Want a treat?” His voice ran husky, and my dick got so hard it felt like it wasn’t even a part of my body anymore, just a throbbing, needy mess of pulsing nerve endings that I wanted him to touch.
He held the marshmallow out and bounced it across my closed lips.
I skittered back a bit, but then when he didn’t chase me and was very still and calm, I inched forward and mouthed the marshmallow. I didn’t bite it. Instead, I nibbled his fingers. We spent a long time that way, with him holding the treat while I carefully ate it bit by bit and took breaks to explore his hand, wrist, and as far up his forearm as I could reach. By the time I was done and he pulled another marshmallow from the bag, the front of his suit pants was jutting out. My toes curled. He was probably just as hard as me.
“Come on. Come get it,” he murmured, walking backward in front of me with yet another marshmallow in his hand.
Confused, I followed him. My knees got beat up as we went, but I didn’t really care much. We passed his room, and I slowed a bit, but he teased the marshmallow against my lips again. I bit the sweetness, then kept going. He stopped at the door of one of the guest bedrooms.
Normally, I didn’t have a problem staying quiet when I was his fawn, but I was baffled. I grunted.
He popped the marshmallow into my mouth, then opened the door.
I nearly choked as I crawled forward into the cool, fresh air.
The first thing I spotted was a water feature. It was a small fountain that resembled a pond in the center of a flower-covered mound with a cement fawn standing in the middle. Water shot up all around the stone deer, burbling happily. There were potted trees in the corners of the room and their branches brushed the high ceiling. I suspected they might be some flower or other that would bloom in the spring. Rock shelves had allowed each wall to become a jungle of ferns and other plants that made everything feel very primordial. The floor was the best part. I pawed at it. Somehow, it was made of moss .
How? Is it carpet?
“Fawn. Do you want another treat?” Scott asked, and even though he pulled yet another marshmallow from the bag, I didn’t think he really meant for that to be my treat. He teased it in front of my lips, and I obliged him, easing forward until my knees sank into a fluffy brown sea of fabric that was definitely big enough for Scott to lie on spread eagle. The bed resembled the top of a mushroom in a weird way with its dome shape. I craned my head all around, trying to take in everything. Each time I looked a different direction, I noticed some new wonder, like the butterflies flitting near the ceiling.
“I know you probably have questions.” He sounded very pleased, and I butted his thigh with my head. He chuckled and dug his fingers into my hair. “You don’t have to talk.” He fed me the last bite of marshmallow and tossed the bag aside. “I did this for you, hoping you would come back, trust me again.” He bit his lip, and I’d never seen him looking so worried.
I nuzzled the crease of his groin, right next to his hard dick, and he moaned, sinking to his knees on the soft bed he’d created for us. He groped between two rocks that seemed to be positioned in a good spot to act as a nightstand, and when he sat up on his knees again, warmth spread through me because he was holding my antlers. He carefully situated the band on my head. I swayed from side to side so I could feel them moving with my body.
This was so inspiring. I could almost feel soft fur covering my body. He licked his lips, then dove for me and sealed his mouth over mine. When he backed away, he was gasping, and my arms and legs were shaking.
“I know we haven’t exactly talked as much as perhaps we should, but do you want this with me right now?” he asked, knocking his forehead against mine.
My mind wanted to slip away—be quiet and calm and simple—but I knew it was important to let him know how I was feeling, so I nodded.
Scott groaned and kissed me again. We nestled down into the softness. Between the way he held me like I was the most important thing in the world, and the trickling of water and the sweet green-growth scent in the air, all the tension was pulled from me and buried in the roots of those trees.
Scott began a gentle caress of my body, hands running from my shoulders, down my sides, along my chest, over my abs, and eventually massaging my inner thighs. He was mapping me—teasing me—but as time went by, I realized he was petting me. I settled into the pure joy of being lightly explored everywhere he could reach without moving, including over my ass and between my cheeks. He had me squirming, but I didn’t know which direction I wanted to go—should I chase his hands or rut against his cloth-covered thigh?
I let out a whine that came from deep in my chest.
“That’s it, my sweet fawn,” he murmured in my ear as he circled my hole with his fingertips. “You’re mine, and I have you. No worries, yeah?” He brought his right hand around to my front and lightly brushed his fingers over my dick. He didn’t close his fingers around me or stroke me—no, it was more petting . I trembled violently as I fell into the wonderful, terrible rhythm of his torture. I chased crests of pleasure that never quite sent me over into the abyss.
“Fuck, you’re so bloody perfect.” He rolled me onto my back, and I was deep in the zone. Instead of imagining a meadow, I had one in the apartment, and it was almost an out-of-body experience when he ran his hands along the vee of my groin. Every part of my consciousness was aligned right here in this room, and the result was a nearly painful awareness of each inch of my body. He tugged a small bottle of lube out of some hidden crevice next to the bed, and before I knew it, his fingers were shiny and wet. He didn’t waste any time spreading my legs and sliding two fingers into my ass, but then he did the same thing he’d done all over my outsides.
He owned me.
Carefully.
Intimately.
Horrendously slow.
He petted deep into my ass.
And then, he found my prostate and put all that love and care right there, in that one spot.
I shivered and panted, staring at the ceiling and those butterflies flitting around there. I had no idea how the hell he’d done this. My body was as light and ethereal as their wings. Glowy and perfect and magical. He curled his fingers in just the right way, and my muscles all tensed at once as my dick quivered and precum slithered down my shaft to pool in a hot puddle on my pubic hair. I felt just like the fountain in the middle of the room. Once the thought struck me, I began to giggle and couldn’t stop.
“Oh, fuck, you’re goddamned beautiful, Deer,” he wheezed out, as if I’d punched him in the gut, and then he eased his fingers from me.
I whimpered, but he was struggling with his belt. He didn’t undress, just popped his dick out of his pants and slathered on lube fast. I spread my legs, offering myself without words.
Scott growled, hitching my thighs over his shoulders. Next thing I knew, he slammed into my body, and as slow and psychedelic as the crazy buildup to this moment had been, everything seemed to come crashing down all at once. I yelled out as what I’d needed to get me over the edge—his dick—pounded against my prostate.
“Come for me,” Scott growled into my ear. “Use my cock. I know you’re close, Fawn. Get off on me. Shoot that cream. Come on, beautiful fawn. Pretty fawn. My fawn. My love.” He bit down on my neck just above the collar, and my hands convulsed where I was holding on to his shoulders like I was going to fall off the earth.
He thrust in sharp jolts, slamming his hips against me in a way that was just this side of painful. I cried out as my thighs trembled and my balls drew up close to my body.
“Come for me, Fawn.” He pressed a kiss behind my ear, then bit there—hard enough to make my brain feel like it was short-circuiting. His dick. His sweet words. His worship. It all connected and made me feel as if instead of him creating this room for me, I’d dragged him into my mind. I screamed and clung to him as my balls emptied and my heart lit up with joy.
I couldn’t think.
I couldn’t breathe.
I couldn’t do anything except focus on the orgasm that rolled me and nearly knocked me unconscious.
When I started to float down, he was still pumping inside me, sending aftershocks rioting through my body. I loved the feeling of belonging to him. He buried himself deep in my ass and groaned, a delicious sound that let me know he’d used me, too.
We were equal, just the way we should be.
Sweat dripped into my mouth from his temple, a tiny salty drop, and then his lips clashed with mine. “Love you,” he whispered. “I love my fawn. I love you, my Deer.”
Smiling, I ran my fingers through his damp hair. “I love you, too. More than anything.”
We lay there together for a while. I had no idea how long. Eventually, my stomach began to growl because I hadn’t eaten dinner yet—I’d been waiting for Scott. He chuckled and ran his hand over my chest, stopping to tap on my heart—checking in with it. He seemed to be asking if it beat for him.
Yes.
“I thought you were a deer, but perhaps you’re some other sort of beast,” he whispered before popping a kiss on my nose.
“Mm.” I began to emerge from the pleasant fog that accompanied the most intense experiences with Scott. I was so fucking lucky to have him. I nuzzled my nose against his jaw. “I am hungry, but I have an important question.”
He leaned back and frowned down at me. “What’s that?”
“How much did this room cost?” I glanced around as I sat up, and he only laughed, a long boisterous sound that had my body tingling all over again. I touched the tag on my collar and smiled at him. There wasn’t a chance I would’ve been able to do anything else.
This was makeup sex, right here. It wasn’t fucking out our anger, it was coming back to him and his open arms and finding them just as wonderful as the last time I was in them. I leaned forward and kissed him, letting my eyes slip shut.
“What’s that for?” he asked softly, running his thumb along my cheek.
I opened my eyes and shrugged. “Being you.”
He huffed and stared around, rolled his shoulders to dismiss the heavy emotions—it was distinctly Australian in a way I couldn’t quite explain—but then dragged me into a hug. I never wanted this to stop.