Chapter 21
Day Nine
Dinner will be ready at 7.
-Rhett
I’ll eat on my own.
-Devon
I wasn’t asking. See you at 7.
-Trailer Daddy
-Notes on the whiteboard, August 29th
Devon
Whatever he’s barbequing outside smells so good that I consider abandoning the veggie sandwich I threw together and joining him outside.
“What’s that?” he asks, voice sharp.
Waiting until I finish my bite, I answer. “A sandwich.”
“I’m grilling.” He walks toward me. “We’re having dinner outside in ten minutes.”
“I don’t want to eat with you.” I reach for another bite of my sandwich, but he grabs the plate from my lap before I can, fingers grazing my thighs as he pulls it away.
“Hey, I was—” I start to protest, but he cuts me off.
“Too bad.” He shoves the plate in the fridge and starts pulling out condiments. “You can eat outside with me.”
We’ve barely spoken in the past few days. Originally, I was livid that he brought up Trina and couldn’t leave well enough alone, but it has turned out to be a blessing in disguise. Holding that grudge is unnecessary, but it is a good excuse to keep the distance between us that I desperately need. I let my control slip the other night, and I refuse to imagine what would have happened if he hadn’t brought up Trina.
Needing space, I stopped going to the house with him, opting instead to work on my computer in the air-conditioned trailer. I’ve missed him—which is maddening. I still have five days left, and I’m tempted to call it quits, so I can go home and work on things that would actually help my business and hopefully get him off my mind. But I made a commitment, and Bea is doing an amazing job without me.
This morning, I caved and finally read through emails, and she’s handling every single thing that comes at her with efficiency and professionalism. We didn’t get the Azul Lounge, but I can hardly blame her or my absence for that. She even has a presentation on the calendar in a couple weeks for a project that must have come in since I’ve been gone. She’s preparing everything without me, which makes me a little nervous because of who I am, but I’m still excited to watch her pull it off.
“Ten minutes,” he says, closing the door behind him.
Something has gotten into him tonight. There is a harshness in his voice and a set to his jaw I’m unaccustomed to that has me immensely curious about what he has to say.
For now, I have two options. Go to bed hungry at seven or eat delicious barbeque outside with this version of Rhett that speaks in clipped sentences and tells me what to do. From the window, I can see him standing at the grill, same firm set to his jaw in place. He’s not going to let me get away with it either. I can’t avoid him forever, but I can make him wait.
Flipping to a page in my sketchbook where I’d started to draw a sparrow, I lean back on the cushioned dinette bench and focus on shading the wings. Without checking my watch, I know the door swings open at exactly seven.
“You’re coming.” His tone leaves no room for argument. “Let’s go, mama.” The nickname is the softest he’s been with me all day, and the butterflies that are old friends at this point flutter in response. He stands on the steps outside, between his pink flamingos and leans into the open door. When he realizes I’m not moving, he closes the distance between us and comes to a stop just inches from me. “Do I need to carry you out there?”
“Why is dinner together suddenly so important to you?” I ask.
He folds the table up into the wall, so it no longer serves as a barrier between us, and holds out a hand for me to take, voice softening the slightest amount. “When you come outside, I’ll tell you.”
The power in his voice draws me to him, but going outside would be losing ground in what’s likely to be a long battle this evening. I look back down at my drawing. “No one tells me what to do.”
“No one else tells you what to do.” He pulls me to standing, steadying me with a hand on my low back. “But you listen when I talk. If you would let your mind rest for just a minute,” he drops his voice lower, speaks more slowly, “I think you’ll find you enjoy doing what I tell you.”
My face flames, though I can’t tell if it’s from anger or the fact that he may be right. I followed him around that first night, did everything he asked, and it was the freest I’ve felt in years.
“Or are you too afraid of what’ll happen if you allow yourself to spend time with me now that I’ve kissed you again, and you remember how good it can be? Too afraid of what happens if you loosen the reins and let yourself live a little.” He steps back, dropping his hand and leaving me hungry for his touch.
He’s baiting me. And it’s working. Dammit.
Rhett
She puts down the sketchbook and glares at me, narrowing her eyes in a way that would have anyone else backing down. She should know better than that by now. I’m not anyone else, and that’s why she needs me. I hold her stare and my ground.
She stands up, pushing her shoulder into my chest as she walks by. “Letting loose with you won’t make my life any better. Certainly, hasn’t yet.” If her words were supposed to hurt, she missed the mark. I’m too focused on the fact that she sits in the same chair she’s used every night since she got here. It shouldn’t affect me the way it does, seeing her make a claim over something in my home, even if it’s as subtle as sitting in the same chair. But now that chair, that spot around the fire, will forever be hers.
After plating two steak and veggie meals and adding a log to the fire, I take the seat next to hers, still pulled close together from the other night, and set them on the table between us. “You were saying? I’m no good?” I lean back and wave a hand, indicating I’m giving her the floor.
She crosses her legs, the hem of her short cotton dress riding up her thighs. “That’s not what I said. You can be a terrible listener sometimes.” I don’t respond. She’s talking to me, and even though her words are full of venom, after two days of her avoiding me, I’m happy to hear her voice again. “I said letting loose with you doesn’t make my life better. I have responsibilities, and you are the most distracting man I’ve ever met.” There’s a compliment buried in there. Doesn’t she realize her attempt to keep me at arm’s length is transparent? I take a bite of my steak, leaving her to keep talking. “You are the exact opposite of responsibility.”
That cut does land, though she couldn’t know how deep. I didn’t give her details on why Crystal left me, but hearing almost the same words out of Devon’s mouth hurts even worse than the first time I heard them. With Crystal, I didn’t care to fight back. It only took a couple weeks for the breakup to be a like a relief. But right now, with Devon, I’m not letting this shit fly. Losing her before I ever truly had her isn’t an option. I push back. “So, you’re not strong enough to manage your responsibilities with me around distracting you?”
Her jaw clenches as she leans forward. “I’m strong enough for anything.” Her words are indignant, an unwavering belief, and it’s sexy as hell.“There is a reason why dating people you work with is a terrible idea. It’s common sense. You are everywhere, on every jobsite, and I can barely—” She stops herself abruptly, leaving me hungry for the end of her sentence.
“Careful,” I warn. “The longer you go on about this, the more it sounds like you wish you could date me.” She’s brought it up enough that I’m starting to realize that not dating someone from work is more to her than just a surface level excuse. Even Allie hinted that there’s a history there.
“Is this the conversation you dragged me out here for?” she asks, pulling her plate from the table for the first time and readying a bite. “You’re unbelievably arrogant.”
“It’s fear,” I say, and the fire in her eyes tells me if her mouth wasn’t full of food, she would have objected. “You’re afraid that it wouldn’t work out between us, and then you’d have to see me all the time and be reminded of what you lost.”
She tries to hide her flinch behind rolled eyes. So that’s it. “I wouldn’t date you even if we didn’t work together.” She searches my face for a reaction, but I don’t give her one. Her tongue darts out to run along her lip.
I lift my chin, eyeing her plush mouth. “Did that lie taste good?”
Her response is too quick to be anything but defensive. “You’re not my type.”
“Oh?” I huff an amused breath. It’s like she’s grasping at straws, saying every sharp thing she can come up with and hoping one will finally push me away.
She doesn’t try to defend her stance but shifts the focus onto me. “You don’t even like me.”
“What the,” confusion tangles my words. “How could you possibly—”
“If I’d made this easy for you, you would have gotten over it in a week.” She abandons her plate back to the side table.
My calm resolve almost snaps. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Her voice sharpens with challenge. “Like you don’t know what you’re talking about when it comes to me?”
My laugh is low and taunting. “Oh, I know you, Devon. I’ve had you figured out since you took a stranger up on a staring contest two months ago and then ran away hours later. You are competitive to a fault. And you’re scared.” Her shoulders rise and fall on seething breaths as I continue. “You’re scared of letting your guard down to be with me. You’re scared of letting anyone know you’re struggling. You’re terrified of failing.”
“I don’t fail,” her voice is not arrogant, only matter of fact. And I believe her. Devon may be the one person on the planet who’s never failed at something she set her mind to. “There is nothing for me to fear.”
“Bullshit.” I lean forward. “Failure is an unknown for you. You probably fear it more than anything else. What do you think would happen if you lost Friday West?”
She shivers, an involuntary movement that shows just how abhorrent the idea is to her. “I won’t.”
“But what if you did?” Softening my voice does nothing to bring down her defenses.
Her gaze sharpens. “I will not lose my business. I do not miss.”
I lift my chin in question. “What do your friends say?”
She shakes her head, avoiding eye contact.
“You have told them, right? Does Bea know?” Her silence is answer enough. “Sadie?” Nothing. “Surely, Allie knows.”
“Allie doesn’t know,” she says, her voice just above a whisper.
“How is that possible? You two are closer than sisters. I was surprised you didn’t have her name tattooed on your ass.”
Her chest rises and falls on a deep breath as she rolls her lips between her teeth, and not in the sexy tempting way she did the other night. No, this is a nervous tick, and I hate to see it on her.
“How much longer do you have?” I ask, finally getting to the meat of the issue. “Six months?”
She crosses her arms, looking away. “The major projects that were paying the bills are all but wrapped up, but we have gotten a couple of medium sized jobs recently that should float us for,” she pauses, “a little bit. Once the damage from the flood is handled at the Calle Vista project and we can get back to work there, that will help too.”
It’s the most forthcoming she’s been on the subject. “So less than six months? Four?” I ask, hoping she doesn’t retreat into herself again.
She shakes her head the slightest amount, sending a ripple through her blonde hair and a sinking feeling into my stomach.
“Christ, Devon.” I dip my head, trying to force her to meet my gaze again. “Less than four months? Why didn’t you tell anyone? You shouldn’t be fucking around in the desert with me if it’s that dire.”
Her head snaps back to mine. “You think?”
“No one would have pushed this if they knew,” I say, almost to myself. Guilt tightens my chest, and for the first time I realize how selfish this plan was. “What do you need?”
“I’m not taking money from you,” she barks.
“I’m not offering money.” Although if I thought she’d take it, I would. “I’m trying to figure out how to help.”
“You can’t help me. You don’t know anything about running a business.” Her words are vicious, cutting, and I realize that up until now I was getting a softer version of Devon than everyone else. She doesn’t stop there, though. “That’s why there’s an entire collections worth of original furniture pieces stacked under a tarp in your garage. You pride yourself on taking risks, but you won’t even pursue your own passions.”
She meant every word as a blow, and that’s exactly how they land. I’ve toyed with a custom furniture shop for years, and quitting my job was the time to pursue it. But I couldn’t follow through. I went back to construction because it’s steady and reliable. The responsible choice, but somehow, she doesn’t see it that way.
My brows furrow as I consider her. She holds my gaze, stone-faced. Is this truly how she sees me? Or is it just that her attempts at pushing me away are finally starting to work?
“You’re so committed to doing the wrong thing.” Her words drip with disdain. “You’re purposely making irresponsible choices. Is that it?”
I take a steadying breath. “So, which is it? Am I irresponsible, or too much of a coward to take risks? I can’t be both.”
“And yet, somehow, you are,” she snipes, but her eyes won’t meet mine.
“You know how many times I’ve corrected guys on jobsites who called you a bitch?” Her response is a disinterested shrug, still refusing to look at me. “How many times I’ve explained that being strong, self-assured, and confident, those things don’t make you mean? But those words? The ones you just said to me? Those were cruel. You’re better than that.”
She lifts her face back to mine. “I don’t care if people think I’m a bitch.” She says, adding another layer to the carefully constructed walls she surrounds herself with. “Especially not you.”
“You always forget that I told you a secret too that night.” I lean my forearms over my knees. “I could see it in your face, immediately after you told me about the fact that you might lose your business.” Her flinch is almost imperceptible. “There was the briefest flash of relief, at getting it off your chest, and then a wave of regret. So, I gave you something too, something raw from inside me to soften the blow of your own vulnerability. To let you know we could be in it together. But all you can think about is you. Your business. Your not-so-secret rivalry with Trian Boatswain, who isn’t worth the energy you give her, by the way.”
Her face doesn’t give away even a flicker of recognition. Does she even remember?
Her sharp response proves that she does. “You don’t think you’ve ever done anything that matters? Then do something that matters. Figure it out. Do you think being an engineer matters? Then go back and do that again. Do you think building houses matters? Do that instead. Start a custom furniture business. Make a choice.” She’s trying to create more distance between us with her words, but at this point I’m more curious than hurt. She’s said that our first night together wasn’t her. But this version of her, biting and offensive, this doesn’t feel like the real her.
I huff a laugh at how off-base she is. “You think the only thing that matters is work, my career. None of that matters. That’s the point.”
Her brow furrows, the brief flash of confusion cutting through her hard exterior. “Of course, work matters. How could it not? We spend the majority of our lives working, so we should choose work that’s significant to us.”
“You spend the majority of your life working.” I shake my head. “I try to work as little as possible, so I have time—”
“Have time for what?” She jerks her narrow chin toward me. “An elusive thing that matters? Have you actually spent any time trying to figure out what that is?”
I’ve found something that matters, and she’s glaring at me in the light of the still burning campfire. “Do you know why you matter?” I ask.
She blinks, taken aback at the shift in conversation. “So, you’re not going to respond to what I said.”
I could defend myself, give Devon the answer she’s looking for. But that would take the heat off of her, and I am not backing down. “You matter because of your passion—”
“I’m done with this conversation.” She stands up.
I stand up too, blocking her path. “You matter because of your generosity.”
“Get out of my way.” She pushes lightly against my chest, but I don’t budge, keeping her path blocked.
“I’ve never met anyone who’s so willing to give of their time, their energy, their resources. Yeah, you’re committed to your business, but I’ve seen you put your friends above it time and time again. Coming to Allie’s charity thing even though you had work to do, taking heat for Bea on jobsites.” She holds my gaze, revealing nothing of her reaction to my words. “You are the best kind of friend. Fuck, the only reason you’re standing here with me is because of your friends. They believed this was important for you, and even though you knew it might ruin your business to take this time off, you trusted them anyway.”
“Are you done?” she tries again to push past me, but I still her with a hand at her waist, leaving us inches apart.
“You matter because of your creativity, your grace. I think that’s the first time I’ve ever used that word, but dammit you’re graceful.” Am I imagining it, or was that the slightest tick of a smile? “You matter so much more than Friday West ever could.”
If the smile was there, it’s gone now. “Friday West is my life.”
“No, it isn’t.” I squeeze the hand at her waist, pulling her closer to me until her chest is pressed against mine. Her hand flies up to brace herself on my biceps. “You matter. Period. No qualifiers. You matter.”
She blinks up at me. “You think you can just say sweet things to me, and I’ll forget the fact that I didn’t invite you to have an opinion in the first place?”
“The only reason you’re still here is because of me. You’re not staying out of some sense of duty, of what the right thing is, loyalty to your friends.” I flex my hand on her waist. “You’re standing right here, letting me hold you, because you want me.”
There’s a long pause, her chest pressing against mine with every breath she takes. If it weren’t for the heavy beating of her heart, I’d think her unaffected. “I’m not myself with you.”
“Not this again.” I tuck her hair behind her ear, letting my hand linger at the base of her head. She doesn’t shake me off. “You are always yourself. Every version of you matters. You are yourself with me, but a side of yourself you rarely let come out to play. You like who you are with me.”
“No, I don’t,” she lies, stepping back, loosening the hold I had on her.
I step forward, into her space again. “What don’t you like about yourself with me?”
She shakes her head, turns around, and walks the long way around the firepit toward the trailer.
I let her get to the base of the stairs before I say, “You’re running away from me again because you’re still scared.” It stops her in her tracks.
She turns to face me, movements smooth. “I’m not scared of you.”
“No, you’re not.” I smirk. “You’re scared of what it means that you want me so bad. You’re afraid that after one night with me, you’d never be able to stop.”
She pops one hip to the side in time with a cock of her head, accentuating her curves and signaling a shift in her demeanor. “One night?”
I slide my hands into my front pockets. “That’s all it would take, and you’d be mine for good.”
She holds her hands out wide in invitation. “Okay, daddy, show me what you’ve got.” She teases, trying to make this mean something less than it does.
I watch her for a moment, making her wait for my response. “You want it? You come to me.”
She radiates power like heat from the campfire that stands between us, holding my stare in a way that’s as comfortable as breathing at this point. Her mind is racing behind those navy-blue eyes, trying to decide what she’s willing to risk, if she’s willing to allow herself freedom. Eventually, she makes the predictable choice and turns to walk up the wooden steps.
When her hand reaches the door handle, I stop her with my words. “If you hide inside, it only proves you’re afraid.”
She turns, seething. “How dare you.” I don’t move, don’t respond, just wait for her to come to me. And finally, blessedly, she does. “I’m not afraid of anything.” Her long legs take three strides to reach me.
I wrap her up in my arms, one tight around her waist, one bracing her shoulders. “You are far too easy to bait,” I tease, and capture her lips in a kiss before she has a chance to argue against my point. Her passion melts from anger into sensual need in an instant, leaning into my hold and meeting every fervent movement of my lips, my tongue, with one of her own. Slender hands hold tightly at the nape of my neck, as she loses herself in my embrace.
My hands roam the smooth curves of her body, from her slight waist to her rounded hips, her toned ass and lower. I slide one hand down the back of a defined thigh, hitching her leg up higher and higher until it’s hooked on my hip and her heat presses against me.
I let myself revel in the feel of her other leg, rubbing my hand slowly, firmly down her thigh before swinging it up too, so both of her glorious legs are wrapped around my torso. I walk her over to the trailer, carrying her up the wooden steps and pressing her back against the door. I grind against her, and she makes a tiny, surprised gasp in response.
“Just one night,” she breathes.
“That’s what you think,” I say, moving my kisses down her jaw.
“It can’t be more,” she whispers unconvincingly against my temple.
I still and pull back to see Devon in her heated state. Long legs wrapped around me, back pressed against the trailer door, her chest rising and falling on short breaths. “After tonight, I won’t come to you again, but you will come to me. And you will beg me for more,” I tell her.
“Okay, daddy, whatever you say,” she laughs my words off, coming in for another kiss. Her lips are hot and needy against mine. Hungry for everything I’ll give her.
I pull back. “By the end of the night, I’ll have you calling me daddy like you mean it.”
“I guess we’ll have to wait and see, won’t we?” she asks with a coy smile.
Yes we will.I pull her back from the trailer door, holding her tight to my chest as I reach for the handle.
Devon
I still his hand. “Not on the bed.”
“Why not?”
“Because of our bet. I can’t stay here for two extra nights, and you don’t want to have to sleep outside.” I give him half of the truth. I can’t imagine sleeping in that bed for the rest of the week after we’ve had sex there and keeping my hands to myself.
“You realize—” He kisses me, and it’s soft and familiar, a sweet moment between words, “you lost the bet days ago.”
The sincerity in his voice, the sweetness of that last kiss, they scare me more than any of the other things he accused me of. If I let this become easy and casual, then it’s too much like reality. “Did not. Outside or nothing.”
“Outside it is then.” He kisses me again, and it’s back to frenzied and passionate, like before, as if he sensed I couldn’t handle the intimacy of another casual kiss. He thrusts against me, making me curse the barrier of our clothing. Spinning me around, he carries me toward the daybed. I’m a tall girl, though not necessarily big. Still, it’s not common for someone to carry me around like I weigh nothing. It makes me a little giddy.
He pulls us backwards onto the daybed until he’s propped up on his elbows and I’m straddling him. “Take your dress off for me,” he commands, and my hands are pulling at the hem without a thought. This is just one night. There is nothing wrong with giving in for one night.
His voice comes out on a rasp, when I toss my cotton shift onto the cushion beside us, leaving me in nothing but a pair of black lace undies. “Look at you.” The heat of the fire warms my back, and his roaming hands warm everywhere else. He sits up, kissing me again, my bare nipples pressing into the cotton of his shirt. When my fingers go to the hem, he’s quick to help me peel it off.
I let my hands explore his shoulders, his back, his muscular arms, as my hips move in an involuntary roll against the hard length in his pants. He kisses down my neck, across my chest, and pulls one hard nipple between his lips, suckling there as I continue to roll against him. “I was so disappointed I didn’t get to do this last time,” he says, switching to the other side, massaging the nipple now wet from his lips with his fingers. “They’re beautiful.” And then he bites down with his teeth for the briefest moment, releasing it and blowing against the wet point before grabbing onto my waist and flipping me onto my back.
A startled cry escapes my mouth, and then he’s kissing down my chest, my stomach, and across my hips. Sinking his teeth lightly into the soft skin there before looking up at me.
“Take these off for me, too.” His words are a command, nothing like his regular charming tone, and there is a little thrill deep in my stomach at obeying his words. I pull them off, quickly tossing them aside. “Your pants too,” I say, reaching down toward him.
“You don’t tell me what to do.” His amused breath skates over my hip. “They’ll come off when I say.”
“But I—”
He abandons his place hovering above my now bare sex and brings himself up to brace his hands on either side of my head. “Understand this. I’ll make you feel amazing, and in turn, you are going to do as I say. Are we clear?”
“Clear,” I answer.
He kisses me, slow and sweet, then says against my lips, “Tell me your name.”
“What?” I breathe.
“I mean it. Your name.” It’s an order, though I don’t understand why.
“Devon.”
“Devon what?” His voice is still firm.
I’m unsure where he’s going with this. “Devon Blake.”
Still caging me in with his hands on either side of my face, his hips pressed against mine, he says, “That’s right. You’re Devon Blake, and you don’t get to pretend this isn’t you who’s naked beneath me, who’s going to come on my tongue, my fingers, and my cock, who’s going to call me daddy before it’s done. This is you.”
He moves away, the combination of his words lingering in the air along with the loss of his warmth leaving me wildly exposed, blinking up into the starry night sky.
I try to catch my breath. “This is one night. It doesn’t mean anything.”
He kneels at the end of the day bed, pulling me forward by my hips. “We were never going to be just one night.” He places the first of what I hope are many kisses between my legs, at the juncture of my thigh. “And it means everything.”
His declaration rings true. This thing between us is an inevitability that I keep losing an internal war over, but I still try to protest. “We’re never doing this agai—” my words are cut off by a gasp when he brings his mouth down again, licking a long line all the way from my clit to my entrance, circling his tongue there. His hands trace a path from my knees, around my hips and back as he presses more fervently with his tongue. This has to be just one night.
He lifts his face to look at me, his million-dollar smile looking even more tempting than usual with the wetness of my arousal on his lips. “You’re wrong,” he says, wrapping a firm hand around my ankle and propping it up on his shoulder before he does the same with the other on the opposite side. “These legs.” His words are a reverent whisper as he places a tender kiss inside one knee. He huffs a self-satisfied laugh. “You are very, very wrong, Devon Blake.”
He sets his mouth to my clit with an action that lets me know what he was doing before was only teasing. Immediately, I’m gasping his name, sensation spreading from my center in a fiery blaze.
His tongue is magic, testing out different paces and rhythms, each working for me in their own way, until he finds one that makes me cry out and dig my fingers into his hair, pressing his face into me. Yes, that. I need that. Encouragements race through my mind, but all words are lost on my tongue. He’s relentless, and I’m close, so close. But I need more.
“Rhett,” I find my voice, even if it comes out a bit breathless. “I need, I need—” He stops, which shouldn’t be a surprise, but is still a great disappointment.
“Tell me what you need.” He kisses the juncture of my thigh, then nips it with his teeth when I don’t respond quickly enough. “What do you need?”
Since when am I shy? “I need your fingers too.”
“Sit up,” he orders, so I do. His tattooed forearm comes forward, presenting his two middle fingers to me. “Suck.”
I swallow, my eyes focusing on his fingers. He meets me halfway when I lean forward, sliding them roughly between my lips, and I suck, laving my tongue around the edges and up the center seam, the action adding fire to my already wild arousal. Before I can think about what just happened, his lips are around my clit again-sucking, and tasting, finding the exact rhythm from a moment ago. He slides the two wet fingers inside me in a long, drawn-out motion, caressing around until he hits me just right and I gasp. I swear I feel him smile against me as he starts to press against that same spot, over and over.
I want to lift up on my elbows and watch him devour me, but he has me too weak to move, my head thrown back against bed, legs beginning to shake. The combination of his fingers and his tongue are a blissful onslaught, transporting me until the only thought in my mind is how incredible this feels. I pulse around his fingers, the pressure building to a peak, and I’m overcome with the sensation and arching into his mouth. He keeps working me through my climax, and doesn’t let up when it passes, but keeps on, holding my hips down with his free arm and working me ruthlessly to another peak, this one more intense than the last. I’m panting for breath by the time he releases me.
Rhett
This is it.This is the moment I’ve been dying for since I first had the privilege of her intense sapphire gaze focused on me. Devon Blake is unraveled, undone, out of control, and she’s trusting me to carry her through. The long, sensuous lines of her body are lit up by the light of the moon and the nearby crackling fire. Her peaked breasts lift and fall on heavy breaths, arms loosely draped around her blonde crown of hair, one knee bent open on the daybed, the other draped lazily off the edge.
My hands go to my waistband, undoing them while she looks up at the stars, dazed. She doesn’t notice I’ve undressed until she hears my jeans I drop to the pavers, my boxers following soon after.
She props up on her elbows, looking properly fucked, even though we’ve just gotten started. Hardened nipples point toward me, as her eyes trail up and down my body and her tongue darts out to wet her lips. Long, slender legs that haunt my every thought spread slightly in a movement I doubt she realizes she’s making.
Grasping one ankle, I pull her forward, using my other hand to roll her onto her side briefly before I sit down on the edge of the bed. With each touch, each movement, she makes the sexiest little surprised breaths. I pull her into my lap, settling her with her back pressed against my chest, inhaling deeply the scent of her—flowers and peppermint, and run my hands down to the inside of her thighs.
Her contented hums shift into a sharp gasp when I pull her legs wide, lining them up with mine. She said one night, and I can’t believe that. I can’t give this up. Give her up. But I take the time to savor her anyway, my kisses nestling into her smooth, elegant neck as I run one hand through her wet sex, eliciting another sensuous moan, then up her body, watching the wetness glisten in the nearby firelight.
“Rhett,” she whispers my name, bracing herself with her hands pressed onto my thighs behind her and rocking her hips back to grind against my cock where it’s pressed against her ass.
“Yes, Devon?” I ask, returning my fingers to stroke her clit in soft, slow circles.
“Do you want to know what I need now?” she continues her slow grind against me.
With my other hand, I draw her face toward mine, kissing her long and slow. “More than anything.”
Sucking my bottom lip between hers and leaving it with a soft bite, she says, “I need your cock.”
I’ve imagined her on her knees begging for my cock, pulsing around me, saying any number of depraved things. But the reality of hearing that simple phrase spill so easily, confidently from her lips beats every single thing I’d mentally conjured up.
Between hot kisses, we agree we don’t need a condom, but I don’t move to grant her request, instead holding her legs spread wide and increasing the speed and pressure at her clit, until she whimpers into my mouth.
“You can have my cock,” I whisper to her. Immediately, she lifts her hips but I still her with the pressure of my hand. “As soon as you call me daddy.”
“You’re kidding,” she groans.
“You like giving into me.” I rock against her. “Don’t you want to come around my cock?”
“I really, really, do,” she whispers.
“Whenever you’re ready.” I ease up the pressure on her clit.
“No,” she gasps, slamming her hand down over mine to keep me from stopping. “Please.”
“You’re almost there, mama.” I press my lips on top of one narrow shoulder, kissing along to the soft spot at the junction of her neck.
“Don’t stop.” She says, her back pressing against my chest on a long breath.
“I’ve seen the way your eyes light up when you say it.” I encourage her. “Think how good it’ll feel—”
“Please daddy,” there’s relief in her voice as the words pass her lips, followed by a serene smile. “Let me have your cock.”
“Anything you want, mama. It’s yours.” I’m yours. I don’t waste another moment. Lifting her, I run the length of my cock along her wet sex, groaning at the contact. She helps me, bracing her hands on my knees and rocking back until the tip of my cock is lined up at her waiting entrance.
“Now, daddy,” she whispers, giving herself over to me, and I slide inside her in one hard thrust. She gasps encouragement as I start a steady rhythm, using my hold at her waist to bring her down on my cock again and again. Her perfect, round breasts bounce with every thrust as her full ass slams against my lap over and over.
She gives every inch of herself over to pleasure, her gasps turning into moans that turn into cries the longer we go on. I rock my hips, finding an angle that has her squeezing my legs with her slender fingers, nails digging into the skin there. “That,” she moans, “right there.”
This woman, this powerful, venomous beauty, lets herself unravel in my arms, around my cock. She’s a dream. She said this is only one night, and I can’t let myself believe it. There could never be anyone else. There could never be anything more right than Devon and I connected in the most intimate way possible. She belongs here—with me.
Releasing my hold on her waist with one hand, I find her clit again, getting back to the movement that will forever be burned in my memory. The pressure and speed that get my girl off. The sound she makes as she sinks into her pleasure is pure ecstasy, bringing me closer to my own release. She begins to pulse around me, adding to the maddening sensation, driving me closer and closer to coming inside her. Fuck, she’s going to let me come inside her.
“Do you have one more for me?” I punctuate the question with an even deeper thrust.
She nods her head frantically, her fingers squeezing into my knees, almost to the point of pain, her back arching as she tightens around my cock with exquisite pressure. And this time, instead of calling out my name when she comes, she calls me daddy, and I am done for, my hand at her clit stilling, my thrusts slowing into jerkier movements as I find my own release.
My forehead falls to her back, both of us breathing heavily for a long, charged moment before I pull us both backwards onto the daybed, Devon’s beautiful laughter adding to the riot of sensations around us. This cannot be just one night. I won’t allow it.