But I didn’t think this was about some woman training him how to be the man of the house.
This was about him growing up from two-years-old being the man of the family with his mother, even when they didn’t live in their own house.
The man Deke was demonstrating he was going to be for me made me happy. Ecstatically so. It wasn’t that I couldn’t haul my own bags. It was that he got something out of doing it for me that was sweet, taking care of me even in minor ways that were only minor for me. For Deke, they had a deeper meaning.
But this came with the reminder that what I’d lost with my dad passing, Deke had lost with his mom too. Knowing she’d never see the fruits of the upbringing she gave her son, doing this miraculously even as life beat them down. Understanding the kind of man she’d made. Having her look at me and me being able to share with just my manner how much she gave through her son.
“Feelin’ Rosalinda’s then a drink at Bubba’s,” Deke declared as he walked back into the great room. “You in?”
I pulled myself out of my thoughts and nodded, asking, “You wanna shower here or go to the trailer?”
He kept coming at me, answering, “Here.”
He had a big bag packed for here, but it wouldn’t matter. He left his clothes on the floor, and if I was doing laundry, they got laundered and I didn’t put them back in his bag. I put them in the closet and dresser.
Deke did not protest this. Deke didn’t say shit.
Deke just went to the closet to get jeans, and if there weren’t clean ones there, he went to his bag.
I had left a few things at his trailer. Deke did not hang them up. But he did toss my bag onto the floor of his tiny closet.
In other words, for whatever plans we might have, we were both good either way.
Again Deke pulled me out of my thoughts and he did it then by getting deep in my space.
I tipped my head way back.
Then I dragged in a ragged breath when all of a sudden his hand dove right into my overalls, right to my ass.
Lightly, the touch chasing a tickle between my legs strong enough to make my knees start to get weak, he traced the edge of my panties under my ass as he lifted his other hand and cupped the side of my neck.
“Been thinkin’ of doin’ that since I first saw you in these fuckin’ ugly things.”
The part about him thinking about having his hand in my pants was good.
His insult to my overalls was not.
“They’re comfy,” I snapped, though it wasn’t as sharp as it could have been considering Deke was leaning in closer so his fingers could move deeper.
“You got a fantastic body, gypsy, and they do shit for it.”
“Would you prefer I wander around in a bikini?”
“Babe,” he stated simply, his eyes lighting.
“I take it that’s an affirmative.”
“Jussy, I got a dick and that dick likes to be in you. You show skin, it reminds me, and specifically my dick, how good that skin feels, and tastes, by the way, which reminds me how much better you feel inside.”
That “inside” liked how he was pushing deeper, trailing his fingers along the edge of my panties between my legs. Because of this, I lost track of the conversation so I could instead concentrate on spreading those legs for him so he had better access.
His thumb pressed against my jaw, tipping my head farther back, and his face got close to mine.
“You wanna shower with me?” he murmured.
Unlike Deke, who’d been engaged in manual labor all day, I didn’t need a shower.
“Yes,” I breathed.
His fingers went from panties’ edge to panty gusset and started stroking lightly.
Wow. That felt nice.
So nice, a soft wisp of breath escaped my mouth and wafted across his lips.
Those lips came to mine.
“Or you want me to make you come right here?” he whispered.
“Your choice,” I exhaled, though at that point, I wasn’t sure how I’d make it to the shower.
Or if I’d be able to remain standing in it.
Gently, he pushed the gusset of my panties aside, dipped his body deeper into me, and slowly slid one long finger inside.
I fought panting.
“Soaked,” he growled.
He slid his finger out, glided it to my clit and started circling.
He also kept growling.
“Make you come right here, put on a show for me.”
“Okay,” I agreed.
“Want you comin’ hard for me, Jussy.”
I found my hands were curled into the material of his tee on either side of his lower back.
I kept them there so I could continue standing as Deke continued circling.
“Okay, baby,” I blew out.
Deke went in harder with his finger.
I arched into him as he bent farther over me, his hand at my neck sliding to the back.
“Let me hear you,” he rumbled.
A whimper I didn’t know I was holding back slid out of me, my legs trembled and Deke shifted his arm so his hand was still at my neck, but his forearm was running along the middle of my upper back, supporting me.
“Work that,” he ordered roughly.
I ground into his finger and another wilder, hungrier whimper escaped.
“There you go, gypsy,” he murmured approvingly.
He slid his finger back, it was joined by another one, they thrust inside and his thumb hit my clit.
I gasped and kept doing it, my eyes half-closed, my hands dragging his tee up his bowed back to find better purchase.
“Deke.”
“Fuck, nothin’ more beautiful.”
I tried to force my eyes wider so I could watch him watching me as my legs began to tremble beneath me when it started coming, I knew the force of it was going to rock me, and I needed him to keep me safe so I could ride that storm.
“Deke,” I repeated, the only way I could communicate all those things.
But he understood me.
“I got you, Jussy.”
He had me.
He always had me.
With a soft cry, I let go.
And Deke had me, holding me up, his fingers relentlessly working me, pushing me further, the orgasm burning through me, making me shudder in his hold, and only when the burn started to subside did he gently slide his hand away, cupping my ass with it.
His other hand sifted into my hair to cup the back of my head and that was when he kissed me.
When he was done kissing me, I was done coming, and as he slowly lifted his head, I slowly opened my eyes.
“Think I might like these fuckin’ butt-ugly things now,” he teased.
My eyes narrowed.
He grinned, pressed his hard cock in my belly and put his mouth to mine. “Shower blowjob payback, baby.”
My clit convulsed.
His grin got bigger like he felt that happen himself.
Cocky.
Hot.
Fuck me.
Deke.
He pulled his hand out of my pants and grabbed mine.
He then dragged me to the shower.
I had a big one, room enough for four of us.
Definitely room enough for a shower blowjob.
If that was in question, Deke and I answered that question.
There was room enough.
Definitely.
* * * * *
The next night, I walked out of the bathroom dressed for dinner at The Rooster, my high-heeled western boots dangling from my fingers, but I stopped on a stutter step when I saw Deke.
Apparently, although Deke said he’d never wear a suit, that didn’t mean he wouldn’t spruce up.
And Deke Hightower spruced up was a sight to see.
Dark-wash jeans and a forest-green, button-up shirt that skimmed the lines of his torso, that narrow waist widening to broad shoulders, a powerful upper-body V highlighted by that amazing shirt doing a number on me.
<
br /> Not to mention, even from across the room, I saw that shirt made the hazel of his eyes a lot less hazel and a lot more green.
He had his man-bun up as usual and his beard was way bushier than it had been when first I saw him again. Actually, as far as I knew (and I definitely knew once we got together), he hadn’t trimmed it once.
It looked awesome.
“Wow,” I said, moving my gaze from his feet in boots that were also better than the normal ones he wore that I’d seen (these being work boots and motorcycle).
Although I’d recovered enough to speak, the look I caught on his face again winded me.
And I knew I’d chosen the right dress.
Now that I was settling in, the house getting done and I’d begun nesting, Joss, who always held on to a lot of my stuff considering I never stayed anywhere long enough to keep it all with me, had promised to send it.
So I didn’t have a lot of clothes Deke had not seen.
The dress I was wearing was, as far as I knew, the only remaining piece.
It was a soft taupe with a muted pattern of rust, orange and turquoise. It had an empire waist, the cleavage cut to it. It was formfitting from midriff down to my waist, flowing out at hips. It had long, three-quarter sleeves that gathered at the ends and the dress fell to my ankles.
It also had a deep slit that was more than a slit. It was a rounded opening that started at mid-thigh.
This was the best part of the dress, I thought, especially when I moved, the skirt flowing out behind me, exposing boots…and legs.
It was sexy boho rad in the extreme.
Deke might not like my baggy overalls.
But he felt differently about that dress.
He didn’t need to say it, his look did.
But he said it anyway.
“Nice dress, gypsy.”
The words came out in a thick rumble that, coupled with his look, completed what he didn’t say. A line used so often it had long since lost its hotness.
A line left unsaid but spoken nonverbally the way Deke was doing it that was hot in the extreme.
That being he liked my dress.
But he was going to like it more when it was on the floor.
I was going to like it more when it was on the floor too.
Tangled with his fucking shirt.
“Are we gonna jump each other and be late for dinner?” I asked.
“Tempting,” Deke answered.
We stood there staring at each other.
“Baby, put your boots on,” he eventually ordered. “I can see with that hair and that dress that those boots are gonna torture me all night. But to do all I’m gonna do to you later, I need steak.”
That sent a tremor through my whole body.
“You like my hair?” I asked.
I’d done a lot of braids falling and twists back from my face, but the back fell free in natural waves and curls to my waist.
“Babe.”
He said no more.
He liked my hair.
I lifted up my boots. “You like my boots?”
“Jussy,” he growled.
I grinned.
“You do know we’re goin’ to dinner with my boss,” he noted.
My grin died along with my fun.
I needed to be cool and we needed not to be late.
“Sorry, honey.”
Deke moved to me, got close and put his hands on my hips.
“You’re a sweet tease. I like it like that. And that’s to say I like it like that only from you. I still like it. And you know Max is a friend. But just sayin’, the man’s still my boss.”
“Right,” I whispered.
“So put your boots on, gypsy. Yeah?”
I nodded.
He gave my hips a squeeze and let me go.
I walked to my bed, zipped on my boots then went to my dresser and added a turquoise statement necklace, switched out some earrings, threw on some bangles, loaded up with rings, then I was done.
I turned to Deke, who was coming out of the bathroom, shrugging on a nice leather jacket, another item in Deke’s wardrobe I had not seen.
He looked to me, his eyes warmed and his lips muttered, “And she makes sweet sweeter.”
I gave him another grin.
“Jacket?” he asked.
“In the closet, I’ll go get it.”
“Meet you at my truck.”
“You got it.”
Deke didn’t meet me at the truck.
He met me on his way to the door while I was on my way to the walk-in closet.
He caught my wrist, stopped me, bent to me and we touched mouths.
With that, he let me go and moved away.
And I got my jacket and met him at his truck.
* * * * *
“You gonna tell them or am I?”
We were at The Rooster, a somewhat rustic but mostly elegant restaurant nestled into the side of a mountain that was made almost entirely of glass.
Deke and I were in a booth sitting across from hot guy, mountain man Holden “Max” Maxwell, and his pretty blonde wife, Nina, who had a hint of an English accent and a manner that said she was full of attitude.
I liked her on sight.
The question was asked of his woman by Max.
The full attitude hit Nina’s pretty face as she turned it to him. “We’re not going to tell them at all.”
“Duchess, anyone sits opposite us at The Rooster should know,” Max returned.
Duchess. Cute nickname. She was so a “duchess.”
“Not even sure how I got talked into comin’ here,” Max stated and looked to us. “Vowed never to step foot in this place again after the last time. I wanted you to come to our house and make you a meal. My wife can cook. Her fish pie is the best thing I ever tasted. But she wanted to get dressed up. So we’re here.”
That didn’t sound good.
That said, it was sweet Max came out so his wife could get dressed up.
“Tell us what?” Deke’s deep voice sounded.
Nina looked to him and said quickly, “Nothing.”
Max turned his attention to him, and after his wife said that, he said, “Me and Nina hit The Rooster, shit happens.”
“Like what?” I asked.
“Once, a brawl,” Max answered.
Say what?
A brawl? In a fancy steak restaurant?
Yikes!
Nina, across the booth from me, leaned in. “Tables turning over, ketchup and horseradish sauce everywhere. It was insanity.”
“Holy cow,” I whispered. I slid a quick glance Max’s way, Max being a man I could totally see involved in a brawl, before I asked Nina, “Were you involved?”
“Mildly,” she murmured, giving the impression she was fibbing.
A giggle escaped me.
“Though, Max didn’t do the brawling,’ Nina clarified. “Not that night. He’d beaten the absolute crap out of another guy earlier in the week though.”
There you go.
I was right.
Max was a brawler.
Another giggle escaped me.
“Luckily, I don’t see anyone in here who might have somethin’ up their ass they feel the need to share at our table,” Max declared, eyes still on Deke. “And you may be the only man I know who’s got no enemies.”
I looked to Deke, finding this fascinating in a very good way.
Fascinating and believable.
His circle was small and tight. He lived. He worked. He kept himself to himself but did all he could for the people who meant something to him.
That was his life.
That was who he was.
That was part of what was now mine in having him.
Nina broke into these happy thoughts by snapping to her husband, “You’re intimating, darling, that that someone who might have something up their ass would feel that way about me.”
I didn’t think he was intimating that at all.
Max looked down at his wife at his sid
e. “Baby, you’re an attorney and one who kicks ass. Anyone on the other side is gonna have something up their ass about you and a lotta them do. Was at The Mark with you just last week when I had to deal with one of them who felt the need to share that with you.”
Apparently, he was intimating that.
“It’s my job,” she retorted.
Max grinned and did it well. So well, I was surprised Nina, watching him do it, didn’t instantly lose her snit and melt into him before asking if we minded if they vacated the table for half an hour to take care of business in their car.
He then said with obvious pride, “Yeah it is and you kick ass at it.” He looked to Deke and me. “But just sayin’, be prepared in case shit goes down. My duchess isn’t the type to let things go. So if that happens, and she blows, just hold on. It’ll happen, and unless our table is across the room when it’s over, we can just finish our steaks.”
Nina was glaring at her man. Though I noted she was just glaring, she didn’t deny anything he said.
“Consider us prepared,” I replied after swallowing another giggle, actually kind of hoping shit went down. It’d be fun to watch Max deal with it.
More fun to see how Deke would wade in.
Our waitress in black trousers, white button-up shirt, long, thin black tie and longer, crisp white apron dangling down her legs approached, asking, “Have we decided on drinks?”
We had so we ordered drinks. We got our drinks. And we gabbed.
Through this, alas, no one approached our table to cause a scene.
We ordered dinner. We gabbed more, Nina sipping her martini, me doing the same with my Jack and Coke, both men got beers, and I learned the stories about Nina and Max’s altercations at The Rooster (amongst other scenes—Nina seemed like a scene magnet, not (all) her choice).
Our appetizers came, and by then I was glad we decided to go out with Max and Nina. Firstly, because I’d seen Deke spruced up and he probably wouldn’t do that to go to Sunny and Shambles’s. Secondly, Deke got to see me spruced up, he liked it and I liked how he liked it. And lastly, I knew I liked Max, but Nina was sweet at the same time being funny as hell, sharp as a whip, and her banter that was more like loving bickering with her husband was fun to watch.
Bounty (Colorado Mountain #7) Page 43
