That came from Deke and it was a muted roar as he continued to pound into me, the feral sound of his release scraping into my skin, driving up my cunt, prolonging my orgasm as I felt him shoot hot and wet and deep into me.
When he collapsed on me, forehead to my temple, forcing my head to the side to cushion him, he didn’t let go of my throat or my knee.
I struggled to modulate my breathing and felt it against my ear, my cheek, as Deke did the same, his cock planted deep, rooted in me.
Rooted in me.
Love you too, gypsy…
Love you too, gypsy…
Love…
You…
Too.
I felt the tears gather in my eyes and I was too spent, physically and emotionally, to fight them back.
With Deke sense, he knew they were there the instant the first one slid over the bridge of my nose.
I knew this when he lifted his head and noted, “Baby, for a woman who says she doesn’t cry, you’re a serious fuckin’ crier.”
I righted my head and looked up at him.
“You just told me you loved me,” I pointed out in a reverent whisper.
Deke wasn’t in the mood for reverence.
“Yeah, and you just told me you loved me. But after the best fuckin’ orgasm I’ve ever had in my goddamned life, this besting the one you gave me last night, which, babe, was off the charts…remind me to tie you face down again and soon…you don’t see me cryin’.”
I watched his eyes turn glazed as my * shivered around his cock at the reminder of last night.
But my lips still hissed, “You’re a mountain man, Deke. It’s a guess, but a good one, that mountain men rarely cry. Even after avowals of love.”
He again focused on me. “You’re now a mountain woman, Jussy, a world-weary, worldly-wise, rock gypsy one, and, drop of a hat, you’re blubbering like a baby.”
Was he giving me shit about crying after he just told me he loved me?
“And I’ll repeat, this is because you just told me you loved me,” I declared. I lifted a hand, finger out, indicating my face. “And just to note, you giving me shit at this juncture, I’m no longer crying,” I pointed out, then complained, “You’ve totally ruined the moment.”
A playful light hit his eyes which caused another * shiver that in turn caused his lips to curl up.
“Totally?” he teased.
“Totally,” I snapped, though it was a little breathy.
Suddenly, his face was closer and his thumb was sweeping my jaw, my chin, and up, catching on my lower lip.
“Totally?” he whispered.
Okay.
Not totally. Nothing could ruin this moment.
Not a thing.
Being Deke thus being awesome, he didn’t push it, make me admit it out loud.
He just asked, “You love me, Jussy?”
Now I could say it. I could say it not in the middle of fantastic sex through which Deke was claiming my *, my body, me.
I could just say it, right out, all for him.
For Deke.
“Yeah, baby, I love you.”
I watched that settle in his face, and doing it, I watched the miracle of this place that gave things like Deke to me and things like me to Deke at work.
This latest miracle being watching the edges life had cut into his face smooth out, not from sleep, not from sex.
All from me.
Shit.
I was going to start crying again.
To control that, I pulled in a ragged breath while Deke ran his thumb from my lip, over my chin, down my throat. “Thinkin’ a’ buyin’ you champagne every night.”
“I like champagne, honey, but you really wanna get in there, you get me bourbon.”
He pressed his hips into mine, my lips parted at the sweet feeling, and he asked, “Can I get in deeper?”
I was utterly serious when I looked right into his eyes and answered, “No.”
He read my serious.
Totally.
“Rooted in you,” he stated, his eyes gleaming, predatory, possessive, making the point he’d made with his cock, his hand around my throat, everything he’d just done to me.
The point he’d made our first time, sinking his teeth into my skin.
I’d been his then.
We were just making it official.
“Rooted in me,” I breathed.
He wrapped the leg he had hold of around his back and used his now free hand to slide up my neck, his fingers going into my hair, his other hand leaving my throat to follow suit on the opposite side.
“Only roots I want, me in you, you in me,” he said quietly.
Fuck.
He was going to make me cry again and I wasn’t going to be able to control it.
He watched my face.
Then he said, “Shit, you’re gonna start up again.”
“Am not,” I snapped, though the words were shaky.
He grinned at me teasingly, but that was a front, giving me what I needed to pull myself together. I knew this because I also felt both his thumbs stroke behind my ears soothingly.
“I need champagne,” I declared.
“Yeah,” he replied.
“Do you drink champagne?” I asked.
“Tonight I do,” he answered.
Tonight he did.
Tonight, a night for a lot of celebrating, for me, Deke drank champagne.
I lifted up and touched my mouth to his before falling back into his hands in my hair. “Then pour, honey. I’ll get cleaned up. We’ll toast my pad being done then pulled pork.”