When I return to Earth, Deacon is watching me with something like awe. “More?” he asks.
“I need you inside me,” I say. Because that’s what it feels like. If he’s not inside me within the next five seconds, I might just curl up and die. I need to feel him moving inside me. I need to see his face transform with the same pleasure he’s just given me.
“I thought I was calling the shots,” he says. But he gets up and takes off his pants and boxer briefs. His cock is hard and perfect and gorgeous.
“I love the way you look at me,” he says as steps to the edge of the bed and slides a condom over his length. I’m on the pill, but I’m not taking any chances of two unplanned pregnancies in one lifetime, so I don’t suggest we forgo the added protection.
He doesn’t climb onto the bed with me for a missionary position, but he takes my heels to his shoulders and positions himself at my center. “This okay?”
“Uh-huh.” It’s more than okay, but I’ve never tried this position before.
I’m so not expecting how good the angle feels when he slides into me.
I groan and babble something unintelligible even to myself as Deacon moans and pauses, his face suffused with pleasure, his eyes half-shut. “You feel so fucking good,” he says.
I expect him to go fast, to pump into me until he finds his release, but he’s still thinking of me. He slides in and out slowly as his thumb lands on my clit and moves in firm circles. “I need to feel you come around me, Amelia.”
“I’m not sure I can.” But even as I say that, the orgasm starts to build, sensation filling me and rising to a high I never knew was possible.
I scream with my release, which I’ve never done before, and I’m not even a little embarrassed. It feels too good to be embarrassing.
Now finally, Deacon starts a rhythm that’s hard and fast and so, so good. “I want this to last forever,” he says. “But you’re too good.”
The look on his face when he reaches his own release, the feeling of him finding his pleasure inside of me, just knowing that I made him feel that way, causes an aftershock of ecstasy to roll through me.
He winces as he caresses my legs. “So good,” he says.
He pulls out slowly and disposes of the condom before returning to the bed and snuggling me in his arms.
“The first time isn’t supposed to be that good.” He kisses my bare shoulder and wraps his arms around me, spooning me like we were made to fit together.
I am shocked. “This was your first time?”
His laugh is sudden and sharp and full-throated.
I realize my mistake almost at once. “You meant first time for the two of us together.”
He gives me a squeeze. “That’s what I meant. How are you so perfect?”
“How are you so perfect?” I stroke his arm gently. The sex was amazing, but this moment is almost better. I feel so sated and adored and comfortable. I never want to leave.
Fear spikes through me. Because the last time I felt this way was with my ex-husband, and that ended in utter disaster. I cannot go there again. I cannot allow my heart to be broken when I have a little girl who depends on me to have it all together all the time.
“As much as I hate to ruin the moment,” I say, “we should probably get back to building the cat gym.”
“You’re right,” he says, with no sigh of annoyance or complaint. He just kisses my shoulder one more time, lets me go, and hops out of bed.
Instantly, relief and regret fill me simultaneously. It’s good that he can let go so easily. It’s better if this is just sex for us both.
Together, we dress quickly and head back to the sunroom.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Deacon
Iscrew the last board into the wall and step back to admire my work. It looks pretty darn good in my opinion. Unfortunately, Marmalade’s opinion is the only one that counts, and he’s been hiding since I got here. Apparently, he doesn’t like men.
Or he just doesn’t like me. Jury’s out until he’s exposed to more men.
