Bounty (Colorado Mountain 7)

“Deke, I—” I began my warning.

“Do it,” he ordered.

I shook my head, held his gaze and whispered, “I want you to come on me.”

I barely got that out or accomplished the blink his next moves caused before his hand was gone, my fingers were no longer around his cock, his shorts were history, I was on my back, my shorts and panties down to my thighs, and he was straddling me, taking over.

As in totally taking over.

God, he was sensory overload, especially vision. Jacking his cock, that chest, those thighs, his stomach, his blond hair hanging down to his shoulders, his hazel eyes burning down at me, his other hand shoved between my legs, working, breathtaking, driving me there.

“Deke,” I gasped.

“Top off,” he growled.

I yanked my top off, my hair flying. When I could give him back my eyes, I saw his on my hair before they cut to my face.

“Get there, Jussy,” he demanded.

I dug my nails into his thighs on either side and rode his fingers that were working me in the tight, drenched, hot space because he’d forced my legs together with him being astride me and my clothes hindering me.

It started coming.

“Oh God.”

“Get there,” he grunted.

“Oh my God,” I breathed, my eyes traveling everywhere, his strong hand around his big dick, his chest, his thick thighs, my nails sinking deep in the hard muscle there. “Oh my God. Oh my God. Deke,” I breathed, arching and coming.

Then doing it harder when I heard his groaned, “Yeah,” and felt the warm splash of him across my belly and on my breast, the powerful jerk of his body through his orgasm, somewhere in the far recesses of my mind wishing I could watch, somewhere in the warm region of my heart knowing I’d have another chance.

I finished only moments before he finished, dropping his forehead to mine, his hands curved around either side of my neck.

I opened my eyes to find his still closed.

Those eyelashes, God, a thing of beauty.

He opened his eyes.

And then there was more.

He said nothing, his breath still coming heavy.

I said nothing, my breath doing the same. But I put my hands to his hips that were distant as he remained kneeling over me, sliding them up to his waist, stroking there lazily with my fingertips.

It took a while but it finally occurred to me we were no longer recovering from our orgasms.

We also weren’t sharing a moment of connection. He was still up on his knees. The only parts of Deke touching me were the sides of those knees, his hands at my neck, his forehead on mine.

We were close.

Yet he was still far.

My fingers stilled on his skin.

Deke just kept staring in my eyes.

“Deke?”

I used his name as a question.

“Just came on you.”

“I…yes,” I answered hesitantly.

Didn’t he like that? Was that too weird for him? It wasn’t weird, but for some it could be.

He seemed pretty freaking into it when I’d asked for it.

“Fucked you hard last night, took it, fuckin’ drove yourself into it, came for me while you did. It was you this morning wanted my cum on you,” he reminded me of things I very well knew.

“Does that…are you…” I fought against clearing my throat to battle a sudden onslaught of anxiety and finished, “Does that turn you off?”

He lifted his head an inch but didn’t take his hands from my neck.

“It seem to turn me off?” he asked.

“Uh…no,” I answered.

One of his hands shifted, so did his eyes, and while he watched, I felt his thumb sweep where he’d sunk his teeth into me last night right before his climax.

His gaze came back to mine.

“Took my mark,” he whispered, all three words were thick.

Thick with meaning.

Maybe even thick with emotion.

My fingers clutched his waist.

He slid his other hand down my chest, between my breasts, down, and my nails curled in when he slid his hand through his cum, smoothing it over my skin.

“Took my mark,” he repeated.

I was thinking I was getting him.

Still, my, “Yes,” was tentative.

His hand slid up and curled around my breast.

I bit my bottom lip.

Deke’s eyes watched.

God, he was turning me on again.

He looked back to me. “You run this hot all the time, gypsy?”

“Uh…not so far, until, well…obviously…um…”

I trailed off.

He got me.

And I knew this because he smiled.

Slow.

So fucking slow.

Cocky.

Totally goddamned cocky.

Hot.

Unbelievably smoking hot.

He ran a thumb hard over my nipple, that rocketing straight to my clit, my fingernails digging into his flesh, all while he erased the inch he’d put between our faces as he whispered, “You like me.”

It was not tentative that time when I whispered back, “Yeah.”

Something passed through his eyes. I wanted to chase it for a variety of reasons, not the least of which it was amazing, but at that moment it made new wet surge between my legs.

“Made for me,” he muttered, like I wasn’t there, like he wasn’t even a breath away from me, giving me those words and all they seemed to mean.

I lay unmoving under all that was Deke and stared in his eyes.

“Shower,” he grunted suddenly. “Condoms,” he went on. His mouth touched mine, “Lots of those fuckers.”

Before I could agree, or what I was leaning more toward, kissing him, he was on his feet at the side of the bed. Then he was dragging me across the bed.