Chapter 14 Sevyn
I woke up drenched in sweat. All I could think about was kissing Deuce last night.
If he hadn’t stopped me, I probably would have rode the poor man into oblivion.
When I initially came out of my coma, I didn’t have all these feelings of sexual tension rolling through me.
It had only happened within the last month.
It was so odd that I was as focused on my therapy as I was, but I could always find time to think about what it would be like for Deuce to take me.
It didn’t matter if it was in the kitchen, in the living room, or hell, even in his garage in the back seat of his GMC.
Yet, last night was the first time we acted on anything sexual.
Although I had made the first move, I felt no hesitation on his part. He kissed me like he had something to prove and gripped and squeezed my ass like it belonged to him. Just thinking about that made me horny all over again.
Most of the time when I was sexually aroused, I found something to occupy my thoughts, time, and hands.
I hadn’t brought any of the toys that Ethan had purchased for me when I left our home.
It somehow didn’t feel right bringing those items from one man’s home into another man’s house, even if we weren’t together.
I slid my hand down the front of my sleep shorts and spread my thighs wide. The minute that I felt my pearl—a tight bundle of nerves waiting to be stroked, paid attention to, and eased into a relaxed state—my eyes slipped closed again, as if I hadn’t just been wide awake.
Only stroking my clitoris hadn’t calmed anything down. If anything, it had elicited more sexual tension throughout my body. My nipples were hard and angry, demanding to be touched the way that I was touching my clitoris.
I moved my other hand underneath my nightshirt and stroked my hard nipple. I pinched it between my thumb and index finger before I rolled it around and around. My body wanted and needed more, but I was content to tease myself for a little while before I got to the heart of the matter.
I recalled the way Deuce’s plump lips felt against mine and imagined how they might feel puckered against my lower lips, sucking my bud, wrapping around my fleshy lower lips and tugging them one at a time.
A glaze of sweat broke out on my temples as my fingers skimmed the surface of my lower lips. I tugged each one, wishing that my fingers were his. The wider I spread my legs, the more I wanted to satiate that aching hunger deep in my core.
My blood tapped a rhythm in my ears as my pulse increased with anticipation.
I bit my bottom lip so hard that I could taste the metallic tang of blood just underneath the surface.
I pinched my nipple even harder and wished my breasts were large enough for me to suck them and bring them relief.
But I was a small girl, and I only had a handful.
They were a nice amount, but not big enough for me to bring to my lips.
I skimmed my hand down my belly and parted my flesh. With an increased heartbeat and my mouth hanging open in angst, I slid my fingers into my pussy. I allowed them to plunge deep inside and quelch the need to be filled and touched.
My hips jerked wildly off the bed, and my breathing hitched in excitement. I hadn’t been touched this way in a long time, and certainly not by myself. It felt so good as the image of Deuce crashed against the back of my eyelids.
I was surprised that Ethan wasn’t the face that I saw, and I quickly brushed that thought aside to be dealt with later. At the moment, I just wanted and needed to feel, to be filled up, and to explore this intense eroticism.
I could feel my pussy throbbing against my fingers as my arousal grew and my genitalia became swollen with blood. I pushed my hips up, eagerly chasing the orgasm that I hadn’t felt in a long time. My chest ached as my heart pounded loudly inside of it, and my body clenched into one tight muscle.
I could not recall how long it had been since I had sex. It hadn’t been that long ago that I recalled my husband and I had been separated the day of the accident, but I couldn’t quite recall all the details of why we were separated.
I was sure that it had something to do with his cheating because that had been a problem in the past. He hadn’t been a serial cheater during marriage, but whenever we broke up, he had cheated.
I had ignored Liam’s warning, initially, about Ethan’s cheating.
But after we were married, the subject came up again, and it was confirmed that he had cheated while we were in college on multiple occasions.
That discovery had created a serious divide in our marriage that resulted in a separation.
Tears squeezed from the corners of my eyes as I pushed Ethan from my mind and welcomed Deuce’s face. I rocked my head sideways and tried to squelch my shriek as I came violently, soaking my fingers the way that I wished I had soaked Deuce’s fingers, or lips, . . . or his dick.
I relaxed into the mattress with my fingers still between my thighs and partially resting inside of my pussy. My chest heaved as I tried to catch my breath and come down from that intense high. I giggled when I thought about what I had done—but it wasn’t long before reality hit me in the face.
He had been the one to stop the kiss last night and release me. I had caught him off guard during an emotional moment. Maybe Deuce wasn’t as into me as I was into him. Sure, he made the argument about our age, but I wondered if it was more to it than that.
I wasn’t sure what he had been going through, but whatever it was had him in a bad place.
I had never seen him so weak, so empty, and so hurt.
I wanted to do something to make him feel better, but I also wanted him so desperately.
Going to him was more to ease his pain, but getting in that shower was all about easing mine.
I climbed out of the bed and headed into the shower and washed my body and hair. When I stepped out of the shower and back into my bedroom, the delicious aroma of cinnamon, vanilla, and something savory scented the air.
I dressed as quickly as possible, determined that since I had no plans to go anywhere today, I would maneuver the house without my cane. When I went into the kitchen, I found Deuce standing at the stove with his back to me.
He was plating his food, and I saw another plate on the counter beside the skillet of eggs. His basketball shorts rode low on his hips, and he wore a black T-shirt. On his feet were black ankle socks and some Nikaj slides.
“Good morning,” I called out hesitantly, unsure how he would respond to me after my aggressive behavior last night.
He glanced over his shoulder and beamed a beautiful smile my way. “Good morning. I was just getting ready to check to see if you were awake. I made us some breakfast.”
“Thank you. I’m starving.” I gripped the edge of the breakfast bar as I rounded it to bring myself into the kitchen.
He glanced back at me again in a double-take and angled his head to the side.
“Where’s your cane? You didn’t have it last night either.” Deuce set the plate aside and grabbed the other one.
“In my bedroom. I decided to challenge myself more, especially when I’m at home. I want to try not relying on it as much. I think it’s handicapped me. Pun intended,” I added with a wink.
He shook his head and chuckled. Turning back to his plate, he replied, “And she has a sense of humor. Who knew? Have a seat. I’ll bring your plate to you.”
“What are we having?”
“Oatmeal, French toast, eggs, and strawberries.”
“Sounds delicious. I’m starving.”
Deuce grabbed both plates and set them on the breakfast bar and then returned to grab the carafe of orange juice and two glasses.
He sat at the breakfast bar with me, and I prayed over our food before we both dug in.
“It’s time for me to make some changes. I’ve been thinking about it for a while.”
He looked up with alert awareness. “Like what?” he asked with a frown as he spooned some oatmeal into his mouth.
“My disability on my job will end soon, and I’ll have to make some decisions about what I’m going to do about income.”
“I don’t think you’re ready to return to work. They haven’t given you a release anyway. Besides, I’ve got your back, especially if you’re not ready to return.”
“It’s not that. I just don’t want to return to doing that particular job. Being a geriatric social worker reminds me too much of Grammy, and I cannot handle that particular pain right now, not at work.”
“What do you want to do?”
“I’ve thought long and hard about writing a blog and creating training resources. Believe it or not, that was one of the first things that I remembered, that I wanted to write a blog before the accident.”
“If that’s what you want to do, then you should definitely do it. I think you’ve learned in your little twenty-five years that this life is short, and tomorrow isn’t promised. Follow your dreams. I’ve got you.”
“I just don’t want to rush a decision.”
“All right, don’t. But I’m here for you.”
“Yeah. I guess I’ll just pray on it.”
“You do that.”
I laughed. “You thought you were slick. I heard that little comment you made about my age. In my little twenty-five years. You’re not that much older than me.”
He glanced at me as he cut into his French toast. “Are we on that again?” His voice was deep and suspicious.
“Yes, we are. I’ve been doing a lot of thinking after we kissed last night. You’re usually at work or at the gym. When you’re not in either of those places, you’re with me. You can’t possibly be dating, and I know that’s because of me. Am I right?”
“Does it matter?”
“Yes, it does. You keep making this all about you being too old for me, and you’re not. I think we want the same things in life—and in a relationship.”
“You want to be married with kids eventually. I’m a bit too old not to be married with kids already.”