Deke wound one hand in her hair, the other arm he kept around her waist.
She curled both arms around his shoulders.
She bent her head to him, lips brushing his, pants blending with his rough breaths.
He drove up inside her.
She rode him hard.
“Need help gettin’ there, gypsy?” he grunted, powering up faster.
She didn’t answer.
Her head fell back, her tits pressed into his chest as her spine arced, and he felt her cunt ripple around his dick as she let out a soft breath with her orgasm.
He got her there.
So Deke plunged fast and deep, taking himself there with her, shooting into the condom, into his gypsy, his face buried between her tits.
Spectacular.
When he came down, she had the fingers of both hands laced together through his hair cupping his head.
He tipped it back and she dropped hers down.
He took his time kissing her, wet and deep, and she gave him her mouth for as long as he wanted it.
Eventually, Deke broke the kiss, slid a hand down to her ass and gave it a squeeze.
She got the message and climbed off him.
He angled off the bed, dealt with the condom and went back to her.
She curled in immediately while he pulled the covers over them.
“Back to the trailer tomorrow, babe,” he murmured. “That’s for the foreseeable future. Gonna be breathin’ in paint fumes all day. Don’t wanna do that at night.”
“Good, I miss the trailer,” she mumbled.
He could tell by her voice she was sleepy and he liked that she fucked, she got into it, she did it hard, no inhibitions, and she liked closeness after but didn’t need to spend an hour on a run down blow by blow of their fucking, their day or any other crap that didn’t require useless conversation in an effort to pretend it was sharing leading to closeness.
They’d already been close, that being fucking, and were going to remain close, that being sleeping together after fucking.
Justice got that.
She just, like always, got on with shit.
Now, since it was late, that shit was sleep.
And she “missed the trailer.”
They’d been gone from it for two days.
Deke smiled into her hair.
“’Night, honey,” she muttered.
“’Night, Jussy,” he replied.
She snuggled deeper under him.
Within minutes, she was out.
It didn’t take long for Deke to follow her.
Chapter Fifteen
Crock-Pot
Justice
“Deke.”
It was a plea.
I didn’t know for what because I needed him to stop but I needed him not to stop.
Ever.
I’d never been afraid of an orgasm but the one Deke was building was threatening to tear me apart.
“Let go, Jussy,” he grunted.
“Baby,” I panted.
“Christ,” he growled and I distractedly heard the moist noises his cock made, sinking fast and deep into my pussy. “Your cunt. So goddamned tight. Let go, Jussy.”
I let go, chest dropping to the mattress, cheek to the pillow, arms stretching out in front of me and experienced the heady ecstasy of an orgasm tearing me apart.
Deke’s finger left my clit, his hand wrapped in my hair and he held it firm, driving me back into him as I climaxed and he kept thrusting, faster, harder.
My thighs quivered, my nipples dragged on the sheets, I whimpered and gasped as orgasm one was shoved out of the way so orgasm two could rocket through me as Deke kept powering inside me.
Finally I heard it and felt it, Deke losing control, bucking into me through his climax, doing it grunting, each thrust, each noise blasting up my pussy, exploding against my clit.
Enter orgasm three, not as soul-shattering but it was no slouch either.
I knew it was over when he slid in, stayed buried, his fingers sifting out of my hair, down my back and both hands coming to my hips, trailing, drawing mindless patterns as he started to glide in and out tenderly.
I heard his breaths even, felt the light, gentle beauty of his touch, the intimate caress inside me before he slid out.
He trailed a finger down my right thigh, over and then I felt a tug and the scarf he’d grabbed from my walk-in closet sometime before this morning came loose.
I did a full body shiver as he slid the silk away.
He’d woken me.
We’d had some fun.
Then he’d tied my thighs together and pulled me up to my knees, my legs bound tight together, and he fucked me from behind, his hand around to my front, finger digging into the close heat to manipulate my clit the whole time he did it.
It had been awesome.
He ran his fingers then his lips over one of my ass cheeks before he put pressure on my hip and I fell to my side.
He yanked the covers to my waist.
I felt him pull my hair aside, his lips touch my shoulder and then the bed move as he got out of it.
I watched his fantastic ass as he went into the bathroom.
My alternate and arguably better view was his cock as he walked out.
My head stayed down but my eyes aimed up as he sat on the edge of the bed. He twisted at the waist, bent and got close, one forearm in the bed, fingers of his other hand sliding slow and lazy up and down my spine.
“Can you move?” he asked, hazel eyes twinkling, cocky and hot.
“No,” I gave him the truth.
And I got more cocky.
And hot.
“You gonna pass out?” he went on.
I gave him more truth. “Probably.”
And from that I got more cocky…and hot.
I turned my head slightly so I wasn’t looking into his face through the sides of my eyes but straight on.
“No one has ever tied me up,” I whispered.
“Get used to that, gypsy,” he whispered back.