Chapter 19
Deacon hadn’t said another word to her since they’d left the concert hall.
After they’d gone out through a hidden door in the fence on the concrete patio, which she had no clue how Deacon knew about, he’d put his hand on her lower back, ushered her to his SUV, helped her inside, and then they started driving.
They’d been driving around for about ten minutes in silence.
The air between them was thick. Thick with anger, maybe. He had to still be calming down. The look in his eyes when he’d turned around…he was seeing red. You don’t just come down from that.
It was thick with arousal, at least on her part. Her lady parts were still throbbing from the speech he’d given in the hallway.
Thick with a lot of things unsaid. So many things unsaid.
She felt like she owed him an explanation, but where would she start? How would she start? What would she say?
‘I’m sorry I’m so fucked up.’
‘Thanks for the dress, and the shoes, and the jewelry, it was fun for one night they’ll be on your doorstep tomorrow because there’s no way I’m keeping these.’
‘I know that as soon as the chase is over, you’re gonna lose interest, so let’s just cut to the chase and get it over with. Can you just break my heart now please?’
Her mind was so busy trying to figure out how to fill the silence, she didn’t realize Deacon had pulled over until he put the SUV in park.
Oh shit. She looked around and saw they were on a deserted forest road, which was not hard to come by in Hope Falls.
Her heart was pounding so hard she could feel it ready to come out of her chest. She turned to look at him, he was staring straight ahead, half his strong profile illuminated from the moonlight.
It was so unfair that he was that fucking hot.
He turned to look at her, and every thought left her head. When he began to move forward, slowly, her breath caught in her throat. His movements weren’t rushed, but they also weren’t slow. They were perfect, as always, just like the man himself. Controlled, measured, and just the right pace.
When he got within a millimeter from her, his breath fanned her face, his lips hesitated for a second, hovering just in front of hers, giving her a chance to stop if she wanted to, but she didn’t.
The second his lips touched hers it was over, she was gone.
His fingers wrapped around the back of her neck, tilting her head to just the right angle to deepen the kiss.
His tongue slid to meet hers, caressing her with intentional licks, as if he were making love to her with care, with expertise, with mastery.
A half whimper of need and half moan of satisfaction vibrated through her body as she lost herself in what was technically classified as a kiss, but to call it that seemed like not enough.
When he broke their ‘kiss,’ it took Jenna a few moments to return to her senses, to remember where she was, what they were doing, and what was going on. She was dizzy and loopy and felt a little drunk. Her lower half was throbbing so hard if a strong wind blew, she was going to come.
Deacon rested his forehead on hers. “I’ve wanted to do that…” he panted.
“All night?” she ventured.
“No, a little longer than that.” His mouth tilted at the edges as his thumb traced her bottom lip. “I’ve wanted to do that since I woke up alone in bed in that hotel room.”
“Oh.” Jenna smiled.
“Where are we going?”
“What?” she asked.
“We can’t go back to my house, the girls are there.”
Jenna blinked as the logistics of the situation splashed over her like a bucket of cold water.
“I have a guest house but—” he started.
“Of course you do,” she said under her breath, mostly to herself.
He sat back. “The money thing really bothers you, doesn’t it?”
“I mean, it definitely doesn’t help.”
“I didn’t ask for the money my parents had, and I didn’t touch theirs. I earned mine and I try to do good with it, not evil.”
“I never said you used your money for evil.” Jenna felt herself getting defensive and knew she was being ridiculous. Her prejudice was just that, a prejudice. She was self-aware enough to know that. “It’s my issue, not yours, but we can’t go back to my house.”
He stared at her, and she could tell what she said bothered him, maybe even hurt his feelings. “You don’t want me to go to your house?”
“I have neighbors, they’ll see you. You don’t know what this town is like.”
A sad smile tilted on his lips. “I have an idea about what living under a microscope feels like.”
She bit her bottom lip. She could call the whole thing off?
If she did that her vagina would mutiny and kill her.
She wasn’t sure how, but if it could find a way, then it would.
She looked around, this road was deserted, but it was still a road, there were more private places.
“There are places we could go and park.”
His eyes darkened. “I want to fuck you the way you deserve to be fucked, and I’m not going to do that in the back seat.”
Damn. When he put it like that.
“Let’s go to Mountain Ridge.” He reached for the key in the ignition.
“No!” She quickly grabbed his forearm. “Blake’s boyfriend Noah works there. His brother and sister in law own it. No! We can’t go there.”
Deacon’s jaw ticked as he stared straight ahead out the windshield, and then he turned towards her.
His hand moved to her bare thigh, the one exposed by the slit, and began moving up as he stared into her eyes.
Her legs were pressed together, but she knew what he was trying to check, had she followed his instructions or not.
“Open your legs,” he commanded gruffly.
With a shaky breath, her thighs parted and the roughened pads of his fingertips continued. When he reached her bare pussy, he sucked in a sharp breath through gritted teeth.
“Fuck.”
He began to run his fingers up and down her feminine folds.
“Did you follow all my instructions?” he asked.
She nodded.
“You touched yourself in the bath?”
She nodded.
“But you didn’t come?”
His erotic interrogation caused her seam to pulse against the pad of his finger.
“No,” she whimpered as she grabbed his forearm.
“Good girl.”
Oh, fuck, she felt her release building, pleasure coiling.
“What did you think about when you were touching yourself?”
“You,” she panted. “Your mouth on me. You inside me.”
The tip of his finger ran up her opening and circled the swollen nub at the top of her sex. He leaned forward, his hot breath on her neck as he whispered in her ear, “Is that what you want, my mouth on you, my cock inside you?”
She nodded, “Yes.”
The pad of his finger grazed her clit, and her hips jerked, chasing her orgasm.
“Tell me.”
“I want your mouth on me, I want your cock inside me.”
“Do you want me in your bed?”
Fuck, did she?
“Yes.”
“Do you?” he repeated as he circled her clit.
“Yes.”
“Tell me.”
“I want you in my bed.” She could barely speak, her climax was so close. Her hips were searching, seeking, but he was keeping it away from her.
“Ask me to take you home.”
She leaned her head back away from him so she could look in his eyes.
Then she moved her hand from his forearm and slid it between her legs, covering the back of his hand with her own.
She arched her back, spine pressed to the buttery leather, head tilted and eyes locked on his.
Her lips parted in a gasp—more a challenge than a plea—as she seized his touch and ground it harder against herself.
The sensation was electric, a current that ran from the raw, swollen center of her need outward, making her toes curl and her vision swim.
He stared back, unblinking, jaw clenched as if he were physically restraining himself from pouncing on her like an animal. Maybe he was. Maybe she wanted that.
She flexed her wrist, using the leverage to press his fingertip against her clit and squeezing her thighs together, holding him in place.
She moved him exactly where she wanted—angle, rhythm, and pressure.
He allowed her to, letting her use his body as an extension of her own will.
The friction was perfect, maddening, sending her hurtling toward the edge even as she tried to draw out the moment.
It was dizzying, the way she could be so exposed and yet feel power coursing through her veins.
Her release struck with a violence that surprised her.
Every muscle in her body seized, every nerve ending lit up in a white-hot burst. She wanted to cry out, but what came out was a soundless, shuddering gasp.
Her hips bucked against his hand, desperate for more even as she shattered.
He caught her, bracing her, anchoring her as she rode wave after wave.
The crescendo wasn’t a single note but a whole symphony.
She whimpered as the aftershocks rolled through her, wrung-out and trembling.
For a moment she was weightless, the world reduced to the harsh rasp of their breathing, the thump of her racing pulse, and the way his thumb continued to skate gentle circles over skin now exquisitely sensitive.
She’d never come like that before—never lost herself so completely or needed someone so much in the aftermath.
She removed his hand from between her legs, now too sensitive to have anyone touching her, and slowly, deliberately, brought it to her lips.
Without breaking eye contact, she licked the length of his forefinger, swirling her tongue around it.
Then the next, his middle finger. She tasted herself on him and didn’t look away, the act was part erotic spectacle, part declaration of ownership.
His eyes darkened, pupils blown wide, and she could feel his restraint fraying with every flick of her tongue.
She smiled, slow and wicked, and pressed his hand back to the steering wheel, lips brushing the stubble at his jaw as she leaned in close. Her breath ghosted across his ear—her voice low, dangerous, hopefully, irresistible. “Now take me home and fuck me.”