Chapter 35
Willow
Sex with someone new
Going downtown (him)
A brave ride
Deacon finally acquiesced to me showering first when I admitted it had nothing to do with how I might smell or taste and everything to do with the possibility of the spider.
Now my whole body was on edge, and I looked down at the robe I’d pulled on over my bra and panties.
Would he want to undress me? Was it weird to walk in naked?
I had no idea what the rules were, and I took in a few quick breaths before gripping the door handle.
He looked me up and down, and my nipples puckered at his inspection before he took a step closer, moving into my space.
He circled me, and I felt watched. No, I felt seen, and I grew more and more on edge until he paused behind me.
I squirmed when he dropped a hand to my waist and his breath teased the back of my neck.
“You smell good and look arachnid-free.”
I’d read the phrase “breath mingled” a hundred times, but I’d never really thought of it until that moment when I looked over my shoulder and, somewhere between us, his breath and mine were mixing. Deacon’s face was inches from mine, and he stroked my arm. “Are you nervous, Low?”
“No.” I shook my head and trailed my palms down my stomach to quell the butterflies there.
It was the truth. With anyone else, I’d probably be scared of rejection or maybe worse, something developing and falling into old habits before getting hurt again.
I was eager and impatient, but I wasn’t nervous.
Deacon would make me feel safe, and Deacon would listen to me.
I tried to remind my heart that Deacon was the one I trusted to help me with this list because there was no risk of more developing between us. “I’m not nervous.”
He was behind me, his chest inches from my back, but I felt the heat of him everywhere. “I am.”
“You are? You do this all the time.”
“No.” His palms slid down my biceps, and I sucked in a breath.
“I don’t do this all the time.” Deacon stepped forward, and his firm chest pressed against my back.
“And it’s different when it’s with you, who is someone who really knows me.
” My heart pounded, the sound reverberating through my body.
His breath teased the nape of my neck before he traced the tip of his nose to my hairline.
“Someone I care about. You’re important to me, Low, and I want nothing more than to take care of what you need. So, I’m nervous.”
“Deac,” I said on a shaky exhale and turned to face him. “If you’re having second thoughts because of Cruz…”
He still searched my face, gaze skittering from one eye to the other.
I worried he’d step back, that I’d feel the loss of his warmth again. I worried he’d have second thoughts about this entire plan, but then his gaze fell to my lips and his eyes seemed to darken.
In an instant, he was pulling me to him, his hand at my waist sure and steady, and he cupped my cheek, a possessive and gentle hold. The red walls receded, and a heady anticipation overtook me. My entire body was on alert, the seconds stretching to fill the infinite chasm of my expectations.
“No second thoughts. Right now, tonight, this is about me and you.” His voice was low and filled with gravel, his face so close to mine, I could see the flecks of gold in his eyes.
Deacon’s other hand slid to the back of my neck slowly, the heat of his touch filling me.
His body was stiff against mine, like he was holding himself still, holding himself back.
“And you are…” His gaze was everywhere—my eyes, the skin above my breasts, my hand resting on his chest. “You’re so beautiful I can’t think of anything else. ”
I closed the distance this time, my hand on his shoulder for leverage, and pressed my lips to his.
Deacon didn’t miss a beat, his lips demanding and needy, tongue grazing the seam of my lips, parting them slowly, his tongue gliding against mine in a way that left me pressing into him.
I immediately needed more, and I deepened the kiss, the intensity bruising as his thigh shifted between my legs.
I doggedly chased the friction of that movement, the way his thigh was hard and flexed against me. When I shifted again, intentionally rubbing against him, he groaned against my mouth. It was intoxicating knowing I did that, knowing I could. It had been so long since I was exciting to someone.
Deacon pulled away from my lips, our foreheads touching, breaths coming fast and heavy as we caught up on the oxygen we’d been denying ourselves.
We stood there like that, bodies tangled, heads together, and I waited for him to speak, for the heat building between my legs to dissipate.
Neither happened. He brushed my hair away from my ear and kissed me there.
“Oh, this is going to be fun.” His whisper sent a bolt straight to my clit, and I suppressed the urge to whine as he moved from my head down to my jaw, tipping up my chin and kissing my neck.
I didn’t suppress anything when his kiss and tongue reached the spot at my throat where my pulse thrummed.
My hips shifted again of their own accord, still seeking the friction of his thigh, the heat and solidity of his body.
I was alight, every nerve ending tingling with the pleasure running through my body.
Deacon chuckled against my neck, and my cheeks heated.
“Sorry—”
Without a word, he slid a hand between us, cutting off my apology.
His touch on my thighs was a tease, and my panties grew even wetter, my shameless body so ready.
“Don’t ever apologize for that.” He slid his index finger higher, stroking the edge of my underwear, his fingertip sliding just under the material before he was at my ear again.
“I want you to feel so good tonight. Do you want that? To come until you can’t form full sentences? ”
The noise I made wasn’t a word. It was barely human, but it was the best I could do.
Deacon’s finger continued its trail under the fabric, exploring the tops of my thighs, moving over and around them, never quite reaching where I wanted him most. My pussy throbbed, aching for more, aching for his touch or his mouth.
I tipped my head back, imagining Deacon’s mouth on me, moving over my slick folds the way he was licking and sucking the sensitive flesh below my ear.
“Was that a yes?” He pulled his head back, eyes meeting mine. I expected his smirk, his smug expression, but his gaze was all want and lust. There was no other way to describe it. He wanted me.
“Yes. Please.”
His lips crashed down on mine again, and his leg, which had been still between my thighs, nudged me backward. My knees hit the back of the bed, and he held me to him, pressed to his chest before I could fall.
“I thought you wanted me in bed,” I said on a pant, clinging to him.
“I want you naked.” He reached down with both hands to pull down my panties, the cooler air of the room hitting my heated skin.
He tossed them aside without looking, his eyes moving up and down my body, hands skimming over my hips and up my sides.
Deacon was exploring me, learning me. I held my breath.
He traced a finger over the top of my breast, along the lacy edge of the fabric. “Fuck, Willow.”
The words barely escaped because Deacon’s lips were dancing across my collarbone as he reached behind me to unhook my bra.
I wanted to toss it aside, but he dragged the straps down my arms, slowly unwrapping me like a present.
He stepped back, watching the garment fall.
My nipples had been pebbled since we kissed, and I cupped my breast, pinching one nipple myself to ease the tension.
“You’re stunning,” he added, nudging me back onto the bed and following, his hand replacing mine over my breast, his long fingers squeezing and kneading before rolling my nipple between his finger and thumb.
The sparks once again zapped to my clit, and I raised my hips against him.
I didn’t even worry about how desperate I must have seemed because I was desperate.
“Deacon, please.”
“What do you need, Low?” He kneeled in front of me.
It was surreal. I was watching one of my best friends, ready to explode, and he kept looking at me like I was the only meal he’d ever wanted.
He stroked from my knee up the inside of my thigh, then back down.
His eyes swept over every inch of me, and I saw want in his gaze with every pass.
It was still hard to believe he wanted me, but in that moment I felt like someone who should be wanted.
He shifted to his back. “Are you still feeling brave?”
“Yes,” I said on an exhale as his fingers moved up the outside of my thigh, awakening every nerve ending.
“I want you to climb over here and sit.”
“Sit?” I looked around the bed, trying to make sense of what he was saying. “On the edge of the bed?”
He grinned, beckoning with one finger. “No,” he said, tapping his lips. “Right here.”
“Is that safe? I mean, will you be able to breathe? Will I—”
I stopped mid-sentence when his fingertip inched up the inside of my thigh, so close to where I wanted him that I trembled.
“You will not crush me, you will not suffocate me.” His thumb made an achingly slow circle around my clit, my body on a taut wire from the teasing touches. “You can hold on to the headboard if you want, and then you’ll ride my face.”
He guided my thigh toward him, and I tentatively placed my knees on either side of him. This felt so beyond anything I’d experienced, but when he slid a finger over my swollen flesh again, I melted a little more. “Are you sure you will be able to breathe?”
“It won’t be my last breath, but if it was”—he tipped his head up and ran a flat tongue over my clit, making every inch of me pulse at once—“it would be perfect.” He rested his head back on the pillow. “Stop hovering, beautiful.” His hand was at my waist, and he guided me down. “Sit.”
Holy shit. Holy shit. Holy shit. His lips slid over my swollen flesh, I felt his entire mouth, and my eyes snapped closed.
Any insecurity I had melted away as his tongue worked over me, again and again; the sounds of his lapping filled the room, and I began to rock against him.
“Tell me what you want. Use that dirty mouth I know you have,” he said.
Deacon’s tongue and lips moved over me then, the wet heat of his mouth surrounding me.
He was playful at first, his tongue flicking and swirling, getting close to the spot where I most wanted him, but not exactly.
“Harder,” I moaned.
Deacon immediately pulled my clit between his lips, sucking gently as his tongue swirled.
The combination left me throbbing as his finger slid inside me, slowly, making sure I was ready.
I’d noticed Deacon’s hands a hundred times, the way his fingers looked wrapped around a tool or opening a jar, but I’d never imagined they could feel so good.
A second finger slid in alongside the first, and the sensation of being filled, filled by him, was overwhelming and I rocked against him.
“Yes,” I groaned as he began thrusting his fingers, moving in and out, nudging my G-spot with each pass and taking my cues. He moved faster, his mouth giving me more pressure, insistent, like I liked. The tension in my body rose, and I was about to give way.
“Deac!” I couldn’t even get his full name out, as the waves of pleasure rolled through me, the electricity reaching every point in my body at once, my center pulsing under his mouth and fingers.
I didn’t remember sliding off him, but he met my eyes, licking his lower lip, his mouth wet from me, from my pleasure.
“Willow,” he said, staring down at me as he propped himself on one elbow.
“I…” I’d planned to tell him thank you, to make a joke about his skills, but my body still shook, my muscles somehow languid and loose and ready to tense again. My racing heartbeat stopped my words, stopped the joke, and in its place, I felt like I could break, which made no sense.
He fell to the bed next to me and held me close, our bodies pressing together. “What?” He tipped my chin up, and his gaze met mine.
“I don’t know,” I said, lost in the gold of his eyes, in the heat of his hands, and the feel of his erection thick against my thigh. “How did you know that would make me feel brave?”
He brushed his lips across mine. “I didn’t…but I’m glad you did.”
“Let me take care of you now,” I said, languidly rolling to my side, but his palm slid across my belly, pushing me back on the bed.
His lips brushed mine again, the kiss more insistent this time, our tongues mingling.
A moment before, it seemed my body would be sated forever, but in an instant, I was needy again.
But when I reached for his hand, it was already trailing down my stomach. “Relax,” he said. “It’s still my turn.”