Deke grinned down at me but the grin slid from his face, his expression turning serious just as his voice dipped. “Jussy, just to say, you got a lot of shit to haul in, you grab a coupla bags, get inside and tell your man you got a lot of shit to haul in. Then I go out and get it. Yeah?”
“Deke, I can carry in—”
I stopped talking when he gave me a look. It wasn’t the kind of look that he gave Scott, but it shut me up all the same.
He knew I got him when the seriousness of his face lightened, he bent in, gave me a lip brush then pulled away and moved away, ambling to the door.
I decided to take only a few bags to the laundry room at a time, though I only got my few bags in there. Deke brought the ones in from the truck while I was doing this and when we both went back to the great room, he grabbed all the handles of the ones I’d dropped to the floor and took them there for me.
In the time we’d been together, we had not gotten into past relationships. This last week, we just…were. I was either working or setting up my music room while Deke worked. We did dinner. We had sex. We slept. We woke up together. And repeat.
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.”