The night has a bite to it, and it’s perfect. My heels clatter on the wood. I’m not dressed to stay out here long, but right now the chilly air and star-studded sky are what I need. I take a deep breath and another.
Then a shadow falls alongside me. Somehow Deke’s followed me without me hearing. His big boots make no sound on the wooden deck. Total Stealth Mode.
I check, but no one back inside noticed he’s slipped out here with me. They’re sitting at the restaurant table, talking and laughing with each other.
“You,” I accuse.
“Me.” He backs me up to the balcony ledge, where he bends me back and kisses me.
Heat rolls through my body, heady and potent, like I’ve drunk a draught of whiskey. The stars are spinning overhead when I pull away to gasp, “Deke. Someone might see.”
“Let ‘em see,” he growls. The rough stubble on his jaw scrapes my cheek. “Isn’t that why I’m here? To put on a show?”
I feel a flash of disappointment. Right. This isn’t a real date.
Only, damn—it was feeling so real. Is this all fake to him?
“You’re right,” I answer, acting as calm as I can. “Better kiss me again.”
“Oh, I’m going to do more than that.”
And he draws me deeper into the shadows. We move along the back deck, down the stairs and to a hidden corner that overlooks a stunning view of the range. On Saturday, the bride will get married with these mountains as a backdrop. But tonight they’re dark and somnolent giants, their rocky shoulders half blanketed with pine trees.
I follow Deke because he has a plan, but I stop a moment to take in the view.
“It’s beautiful out here,” I whisper. And shiver because what little heat I brought outside with me has dissipated, and I’m only wearing a cardigan against the chill.
Deke shrugs out of his button-down and tucks it around me, ignoring my protests that he’ll be cold. His white t-shirt shines in the darkness. He pulls me against his large chest.
“We should go back in,” I say, even though I’m warm and cozy now, swaddled in his shirt and arms. “You’re going to freeze.”
He chuckles, as if the idea of him being cold is a joke. “You’ll keep me warm,” he says and turns me back to face the mountains. His arms slide around me, and I lean back against his front.
“Not that warm. I’m in a dress and no panties,” I remind him. Judging by the giant hard-on poking my butt, he hasn’t forgotten the no panties part.
“Mmmm.” He nuzzles my neck. “You must be ready for your reward.” His lips brush my ear. “Put your hands on the railing.”
I lean forward to obey.
He flips up my skirt. Cold air gusts over my bare butt, and my entire body breaks out into goosebumps. His fingers caress my bottom, gliding over the chilled skin, exploring.
I shift from foot to foot, still holding position, aroused and excited but nervous. “Someone could come find us,” I whisper over my shoulder.
“I won’t let anyone see you,” he promises. His big hands cover my butt cheeks, squeezing and offering a little heat. “Besides, no one cares.”
“I guarantee Scott cares,” I say and immediately curse myself for bringing up Scott.
“Gonna make you forget him,” Deke says, and it sounds like a vow.
He brushes his fingertip between my legs.
“Already forgotten.”
He presses me forward, and now I’m leaning on the railing while he fondles my backside. He reaches under to find and stroke my labia with soft fingers. I rise to tiptoe, but his other hand holds my hips steady, so I can’t get away. I’m bent over with my butt sticking out and on display, exposed and offered up to this bad boy.
“You’re turning me into a bad girl,” I breathe.
His fingers pause. “I don’t think so. I think you’ve always been bad.”
He pulls his hand out from between my legs to give my butt a slap. I gasp. The sound seems to reverberate in the still air. My heart stutters, and I freeze, listening hard as if the sound will echo off the mountains. But it doesn’t, and Deke rewards my bravery with more pussy rubbing.
“You sucked my cock like a porn star. I think you have a real naughty streak.” His fingers continue to thrum between my folds, alternating with a few hard smacks that seem to jolt arousal through me. Then he goes back to stroking me to orgasm.
I go on tiptoe, grinding down onto his fingers, with the hazy light of the Milky Way rippling overhead, flung between the mountains and the opposite horizon like a diamond studded scarf. Cold fingers of wind caress my face, but I’m snuggled deep into Deke’s shirt and his scent where the chill can’t touch me.
“That’s it, grind down,” Deke orders, thumbing my clit as he slips a thick finger inside me. “Take your pleasure, baby, take it.”