by Lili Valente
“Grilled cheese and French fries are not good to go foods. They’d be cold and soggy long before we got to Mercyville.”
“Something else, then?” She jabs a thumb over her shoulder. “They have all kinds of options. It’s not just diner food. They have salads and pasta and a few Greek dishes. I’m sure we can find something up to your standards.”
I shake my head. “Nope. I made a reservation. Someplace I think you’ll really like.”
She cocks her head. “Yeah? That’s sweet.” Her nose wrinkles as she adds with a smile, “And intriguing. I can’t wait to see what you think I like.”
“I’m good at reading people,” I say. “Almost as good as I am at pissing them off.”
She laughs. “Oh good. Then this place should be right up my alley. Just let me return my mug, and we’ll get going.”
“Perfect,” I say, hoping it will be.
When I found the event online earlier today, I didn’t hesitate to pick up the phone and secure two tickets. But now, as we drive across the highway to the fairgrounds, I start to second guess myself, an occurrence almost as uncommon as the relentless lust that’s been plaguing me since the night I kissed this woman for the first time.
This date feels like a test, and I really don’t want to fail.
By the time I park the truck in the lot beside the fairgrounds, my hands are sweating on the wheel. And when Violet leans forward, reading the banner above the entry gates aloud in an even tone, “Welcome to Vegfest, Rock out with your Kale out,” I mentally cross my fingers.
I was positive a vegan with such a deep love for animals she’s got room in her heart for a colony of salamanders would be way into a food festival, but when I glance her way I can’t get a read on her expression. Her eyes are glued to the banner, her lips are pressed tight together, and for the first time since we got into the truck, she’s absolutely silent.
I’m about to tell her we can go somewhere else, if she’s not into wandering around while she eats, when she turns to me with shining eyes and says, “For almost twenty years, my ex made fun of me for refusing to eat animals, like it was some childish thing I’d gotten into my head and someday I would wake up, grow up and realize it was ridiculous.”
My forehead wrinkles. “I’m sorry. That was shitty of him.”
“It was. And I never tried to shame him into making the same choices I’d made, I just wanted him to respect them.”
I nod. “Absolutely.”
“So, this means a lot,” she says, motioning toward the entrance. “Thank you.”
“I’m not your ex, Violet.” I reach out, cupping her face in my hand. “And I happen to really like kale.”
She grins. “Me, too. I’m crazy about it. Have it for lunch at least three times a week.”
“Sometimes more,” I agree, leaning closer. “I like to sauté it with garlic and olive oil and serve it over rice.”
“Now you’re speaking my language,” she purrs.
“Or I’ll make a massaged raw kale salad, just rub sesame oil into the leaves with my hands and garnish with—“
“Stop,” she says, breath rushing out across my lips. “You’re going to get me all worked up, and I’ll embarrass myself in front of the veggies.”
“Raw kale talk turns you on,” I murmur, sliding my fingers into her hair. “Noted. I’ll keep that in my back pocket for later, in case I need some help getting you in the mood.”
“Never going to happen,” she says, hand molding to my chest. “I’m always in the mood when I’m with you.”
Before I can tell her the feeling is entirely mutual, she kisses me. And then her tongue sweeps through my mouth, and her fingers dig into my back as she pulls me as close as we can get with the console between us, and I know it’s going to be a long night. But a good one.
Something has shifted between us, something subtle but powerful that makes it feel natural to take her hand as we head toward the gates. Natural to rest my hand on her thigh as we perch at bar tables throughout the festival, devouring seaweed salads and mushroom burgers and four different kinds of kale. We even try a kale-infused vodka mixed with cucumber lemon soda that Violet declares, “Weirdly delicious, just like you.”
“Weirdly delicious.” I cross my arms at my chest, pretending to be offended.
“Unexpectedly delicious?” She slides her arms around me and lifts her face to mine.
“That’s better.” I kiss her, doing my best to keep it PG, but within a few seconds her tongue is slipping past my lips and my fingers are digging into her ass.
Finally, I drag my mouth away from hers. “Ready to go?”
“Yes, please,” she says. “I just need to do one thing first. Be right back.”
She dashes away across the sea of tables, toward the booths near the soundstage and the bathrooms beyond. I finish my drink, but the cocktail does nothing to cool the heat gathering inside me. If anything, it makes things worse.
Maybe kale is an aphrodisiac. If so, Violet and I are both in trouble. The last thing we need is any more fuel on this fire.
I’m pulling my phone from my pocket, preparing to investigate the possible erotic properties of kale, when Violet appears at my side and chirps, “For you. A thank you present for a wonderful second date.”
She unfurls a rolled up T-shirt, revealing a cartoon leaf with a big grin above the words, “Oh Kale Yeah!” on the front.
I laugh so hard I can barely breathe. I don’t know why it cracks me up so much, but it does, and the fact that Violet’s giggling along with me, obviously thrilled that her gag gift is a success, only makes things worse. By the time I regain control, my jaw hurts from smiling so hard, I’ve got a knot in my side, and my chest is full of bubbles.
Happy bubbles that fizz and pop as Violet and I head for the exit arm-in-arm, making my blood feel shot through with sunlight even though the sun went down an hour ago.
CHAPTER 15
VIOLET
I can’t remember the last time I laughed this hard, the last time holding hands with someone made me as giddy as a kid on her first date, the last time meeting a man’s eye was enough to make me shiver with excitement.
Deacon is something special and so much more fun than I ever expected. He’s not just a grouchy alpha male with a highly developed bossy side. He’s also sweet and thoughtful and funny and so sexy I’m not sure I’m going to be able to keep my clothes on until we get up to his bedroom.
“My dad’s spending the night at his girlfriend’s house,” he says, nodding toward the empty gravel beside his truck as he shuts off the ignition. “Which means you’re spared a game of Twenty Questions. At least for tonight.”
“I’ve met your dad several times.” I grab my purse, spilling out of the truck into the cool night air as I add, “I like him. And he likes me.”
“But you weren’t dating his son before,” Deacon says, circling around the back of the truck and holding out a hand I take without hesitation. “He’s protective.”
“And you’re clearly in need of protection,” I say, with a pointed look up and down his powerful body. “I mean, how will you ever defend yourself?”
He pauses, grinning as he catches my gaze. “Oh, I don’t plan on defending myself. You do whatever you want to me, baby, I’m not going to put up a fight.”
I bite my lip. “No? Not even a little one? Just to make things more exciting?”
“I’m going to show you exciting, woman,” he says, swooping me into his arms, making me giggle as he jogs up the porch stairs and slams into the house. I barely have time to catch a glimpse of the long wooden table in the dining room and the slightly overwhelming display of antlers above the fireplace mantle before he’s climbing the stairs to the second floor.
And then we’re in his bedroom and I’m back on my feet, and we’re tearing each other’s clothes off between kisses as we stumble toward his bed. And then he’s on top of me, and his mouth is everywhere, and his hands are everywhere, and I’m drowning in him all
over again.
Drowning and burning up with fever at the same time.
I’ve never wanted anyone the way I want him.
“Now,” I beg, crying out as he bites down on my nipple, sending another electric shock of need rippling across my skin. “Please Deacon, inside me now.”
He groans in approval of this suggestion, kissing me hard as he positions his gorgeous cock at my entrance and pushes inside. He just…dives in, hard and deep, which would be amazing, except for the fact that it hurts like nobody’s business.
“Ow,” I squeak, going stiff beneath him as a sharp sting zaps between my legs.
And he stops. Just like that.
Like I’ve flicked a switch. Not a second of hesitation. He goes still at the end of his next thrust, buried inside of me, but not moving a muscle.
And though the pain is still intense, I find myself flooded with a safe, happy, grateful feeling that makes my heart swell in my chest. And maybe it’s a sad statement on my sex life up to this point, but I know for a fact that a lot of men wouldn’t have stopped. Men who would have insisted they couldn’t stop—the needs of their great and powerful penis were just too overwhelming—or have pretended they didn’t hear me.
But not Deacon, this man for whom my pleasure so obviously comes first.
“What’s wrong?” He brushes my hair from my face, worried eyes searching mine. “Did I hurt you?”
I shake my head. “No. Well, yes, but it’s not your fault. I just…I haven’t… It’s been a long time, and I guess…” A tight laugh escapes my chest. “I thought my friend Mina was kidding about the whole Divorce Virginity thing, but I guess she wasn’t. It really does hurt.”
“I’m sorry.” He starts to pull out, but I grab the thick muscles of his beautiful backside and hold on tight.
“No, don’t leave. I just need a second. I think I would even if you weren’t so big.”
“Even if I weren’t so big?” He smiles down at me as his fingers trace the curve of my ear to tease the sensitive skin just behind. “Trying to flatter me?”
Lips pressed together, I lift both brows. “Um, not at the moment. I’d be okay with a little less of a good thing, if you know what I mean.”
“Want me to look into a dick reduction?” he asks, smoothing one hand from my hip to my ribs and back again, a caress that is both relaxing and erotic.
“Would you?” I ask, breath coming faster as he cups my breast in his hand.
“Right now…” He glances down, watching as he rolls my nipple between his fingers, the need in his eyes making the waves of sensation dancing from my breast to pulse between my legs that much more intense. “Yes. I would. Anything to keep doing this. You feel so damned good, Violet. I’m sorry it isn’t the same for you.”
“It will be.” I run my hands up his back to grip his shoulders, relishing the powerful feel of him beneath my fingers. “I still want you so much. I just need to take it slow.”
“We can go as slow as you need, baby. I’m not in any rush,” he says, illustrating his point by pulling out inch by careful inch, before sinking back inside with a gentleness that touches me in places not even his talented fingers could possibly reach.
“Yes,” I whisper, holding his gaze as he stills inside me once more, the intimacy of the moment enough to make my throat tight. “Just like that. That’s perfect.”
“You’re perfect,” he says, kissing me as he glides out and then in and in and in until I’m completely filled with every glorious inch of him. “I could stay here for the rest of my life, inside you, just like this, and die a happy man.”
“Oh God, Deacon.” I shudder, hunger roaring to life inside of me again. “I want you so much. I can’t remember ever wanting anyone this much.”
“Then take me, gypsy. Show me how you like it. Tell me what you want.”
Drunk on the smell of him and the feel of him and the rush of knowing he means every word—he really wants me to show him, to help him make our first time together incredible—I whisper, “Me on top. I want my hands on your chest.”
“And I want my hands on yours,” Deacon says as he wraps one big arm around me, holding me close as he rolls onto his back with his cock still deep inside me. “So that works out just fine.”
“So fine,” I agree, breath catching as he cups my breasts in his hands, rubbing his thumbs across my nipples as I begin to ride him. I try to go slow, to make sure the pain is really gone for good before I go too crazy, but that’s not the way Deacon and I work. He’s lightning, and I’m a field of dry summer grass, and this fire we make together isn’t going out any time soon.
“Yes, oh yes,” I gasp, nails digging into his pecs as my hips work faster, faster, until I slam into a wall of pleasure going ninety miles per hour.
But there’s no pain on impact, only paradise, heaven, stars dripping down my face and spilling from my lips as I kiss him until I can’t see anything but his bright blue eyes as he rolls on top of me and takes me there again.
I come apart, unraveling until there is nothing left of daytime Violet. I’m all core, all heart, all the secret nighttime pieces only one man has ever seen.
I wasn’t sure I’d ever feel this way with someone else ever again—like touching is about more than sex or even pleasure; that it’s a language only the two of us understand. But here I am, with this man I barely know, with this person I was so sure wasn’t my kind of sweet, and it is…so beautiful.
“So beautiful,” I sob against his lips.
“So good,” he murmurs, his voice tight. “So damned good, baby. Violet, I’m going to come. I’m going to come so fucking hard, I want you to come with me. Again. Come for me baby, please, I—”
His words are drowned out by the howl of a wild woman tumbling through an electric universe of bliss and light. He calls my name as he comes, his cock pulsing inside me, drawing out the spin until I’m weightless, breathless, lost and found on this desert island made of damp sheets.
“We got your sheets all sweaty,” I say several long minutes later, still not quite myself, still not able to breathe without my chest hitching and echoes of pleasure shivering across my skin.
“I’m never going to wash them.” Deacon wraps an arm around me, holding me close as we lie facing each other on our sides, my leg still wrapped around his waist and his softening erection lingering inside me.
“You want to sleep in my sweat forever?” I ask, grinning like a fool for some reason I can’t quite put my finger on.
“Yes. If that’s wrong, I don’t want to be right.”
My laugh becomes a hum of pleasure as he kisses me again, long and slow. “We can always get them sweaty again, you know.”
“Yeah? Even though we got off to a rough start?”
“It’s not about the start, it’s about the finish,” I say, brushing his hair from his forehead. “And the finish was silver medal all the way.”
“Not gold?” he asks, cupping my bottom in his hand and giving it a squeeze.
I smile. “Gotta give you a goal to shoot for. Don’t want you to peak too early.”
“I never peak too early, woman,” he says, rolling on top of me with a wicked gleam in his eyes.
“Oh yeah?” I bite my bottom lip.
“Oh yeah,” he confirms, and then he hooks my knees over his elbows and proves he’s a man of his word.
CHAPTER 16
From the texts of Violet Boden and
Mina Smalls
Violet: We need to talk sexy times, woman. You’ve been holding out on me.
* * *
Mina: I have? About what? My therapist told me I’m too forthcoming about my sex life with my friends and should establish better boundaries.
* * *
Violet: Your therapist is a twit. You should have been telling me more, not less! Why didn’t you warn me that losing my Divorce Virginity was going to hurt almost as much as losing my actual virginity?! I was totally unprepared!
* * *
Mina: OMG!
! YOU DID IT! YOU GOT YOUR DV CARD PUNCHED! CONGRATULATIONS, LADY, WAY TO GO!
* * *
Violet: Thank you! It was amazing! After the hurting part, anyway, which he was very understanding about. But it would have been nice to know, going in, that pain was going to be involved.
* * *
Mina: Yeah, sadly, pussies are like goldfish. They have very short memories. If you don’t throw a dick at them every once in a while, they freak out and forget what to do with it.
* * *
Violet: Apparently. Again, would have been nice to know twelve hours ago.
* * *
Mina: I’m so sorry! I was going to tell you! And give you tips to help things along. I just didn’t want to scare you away when you were still in the fragile, afraid-to-jump-out-of-the-single-lady nest stage. You should have called me before the big event the way I told you to!
* * *
Violet: I didn’t realize you were serious. I thought you just wanted in on the gossip.
* * *
Mina: Well, that, too. So give me the goods. Did he deliver in the sack? Does he know what to do with that love pistol in his pocket or is he shooting blanks?
* * *
Violet: Not sure what to do with that metaphor, but he’s definitely shooting blanks. He’s had a vasectomy, and we’ve both been tested, so we didn’t have to worry about condoms. It was so nice! Grant refused to have a vasectomy, so I had to stay on birth control for years, even though it made me have migraines and itchy eyeballs.
* * *
