by J. J. Massa
“Hmmm,” he considered. “Rayne did that before. Her mamere…” he stopped, an alarming thought bringing him up short. “What’s in that stuff?”
Angel looked at him, head cocked, brow furrowed. She was beautiful, adorable, everything he’d ever wanted in a woman. He had every intention of making her his the first moment he got the chance. For now, though, he needed an answer.
“There are all sorts of things in there…everything from witch-hazel to ground rat’s toenails, why?” she asked, confused.
“Jus’ promise me there’s nobody in there what used to be a person,” he shuddered, remembering old Mr. Verdin.
Angel’s eyes widened in alarm. “Jamais d'la vie! I would never do such a thing! Why would you say that to me?”
“Remind me to tell you about it later…much later,” Deke murmured, pushing his chair back. “There’s other stuff you and me need to cuss and discuss.”
Angel took the two bowls, placing them in the sink and rinsing them. Deke waited until she was finished and then levered himself to his feet, carefully sliding his weapon in the front of his pants this time.
“Come talk with me?” he stood, having situated his crutches properly so that most of his weight rested on his hands and arms. He angled his head toward the room’s doorway and then headed out to the front sitting-room. First things first, he slipped his pistol out of his pants and then behind a table lamp.
With a satisfied sigh, he lowered himself carefully onto the small loveseat, patting the cushion next to him. Nervously, Angel sat down, curling herself into the other corner.
Deke wasn’t worried—it was a loveseat. The other corner wasn’t that far away.
“What did you want to talk about, Deke?” she asked, uncertainty in every syllable.
“That kiss,” he told her, midnight blue eyes boring into her.
“Which kiss?” her voice broke and she cleared her suddenly-dry throat. “Um, which kiss?” she repeated in a more normal tone.
“All of ‘em,” he winked, naughty boy and naughty man, all rolled into one devastating package.
She tapped him lightly, huffing a little chuckle. “Stop,” she laughed. “Okay, what exactly about those kisses?” she asked, feeling a little more relaxed.
“Mais,” he began, “I’ve done my share of kissin’ in my lifetime. Not as much as Remy, I’ll grant you, but plenty all the same.”
“I’m not sure I want to hear this,” she objected. She couldn’t keep the hard note from leaking out and edged away a little. The arm of the loveseat bore into her back.
Deke reached over and pulled her back to him. “Ange, I’ve never had not even one kiss in my whole life as good as the kisses you and I had. And that’s including when I was sweet on Rayne and got shocked.” She shook her head from side to side in confusion. “They called her “Electric Rayne”,” he explained. “Her mamere had a spell on her. She shocked every man who touched her but Remy.”
“Ahh,” Angel breathed. She had heard something about that, years before. She was also familiar with that spell. Her aunt had tried to cast the spell on a cat that kept getting pregnant. The best she was able to do was get shocked herself, every time she touched the cat.
“It seems to me, Bébé, two people who affect one another the way we do, mais, we ought to give that serious consideration.” Angel nodded, hopeful and terrified at the same time. “I’m no spring chicken, I’m sure that hasn’t passed your notice. Thing is, I want us to be together, you and me.” Angel looked at him, startled. “Could be I’m jumpin’ the gun here, but, like I said, I’m not as young as I used to be. Maybe that fears you some, that?”
“No, Deke, no, I…” Angel realized belatedly that, in her surprise, she’d left Deke wondering, uncomfortable, and maybe hurt and embarrassed that he’d made a mistake.
That thought was unbearable to her. She scooted closer to him, putting her arms around his broad shoulders, burying her head in his chest. “I love you, Deke, I know I do. It scares me, because it’s supposed to be different, somehow.”
Deke pulled her into his arms and across his lap, cuddling her close. “How’s it supposed to be, then? We’re doing it wrong, yeah?”
Angel laughed against him, pressing a kiss to his Adam’s apple. “I mean, I thought it was supposed to take longer, go slower. I didn’t realize I’d find the rest of my life in just one kiss.” She sniffed noisily, tasting salt-tears in her throat. “Just when I knew you were the one, you went and got shot, then the infection,” she sniffed again, remembered fear making her unable to stem the tide of tears now. “All I ever wanted. You…and maybe a toy Pomeranian puppy named Sheba.”
Chapter Ten
“Mais, even if I died, you could still get the dog, Béb,” Deke soothed, or tried to, anyway. Here he was, sure they were making such great progress and Angel was heartbroken and sobbing in his arms.
“Dekon Cassion Doucette!” she cried, “Don’t you say such awful things!”
“Shh, Ange, shh,” he murmured, “I’m sorry. It’s goanna all be all right, I promise it is.” He really didn’t know what else to say. “You’re goanna marry me, yeah?” he stroked her long dark hair and kissing the tears away from her face. “It would make me happy, happy, mon Ange. It might have slipped my mind to mention it, but I’m crazy in love with you, Bébé.”
“Of course I will,” she agreed, tears still streaming as she tipped her face up to his.
Her lips were full, pink and inviting, and he tasted first the top, then the full bottom lip, teasing it, stroking with his tongue then nipping, tasting, dipping inside. Her mouth was sweet, warm, everything. His tongue stroked over hers, his hand slid down, finding its way inside her clothes, fingers flicking open buttons as he indulged in succulent, drugging kisses.
“I didn’t have time to get a ring,” he murmured, tasting his way down her throat, pushing away fabric, fumbling with elastic.
“Mmm,” she moaned, acknowledgement if nothing else.
He licked a path down a caramel curved breast, stopping at its crest to lathe and taste each tiny bump surrounding the nipple. Nipping gently, he sucked the hard, chocolate peak into his mouth, teasing it, savoring it until Angel cried out.
“Ahhh, Deke,” she groaned, squirming on his lap.
She’d worn a pair of loose, drawstring pants; they were pretty, but lightweight, and most important to him, easy to get into. He kissed his way across to her other breast, nipping and sucking, supporting her as she leaned back with an arm behind her shoulders.
His other hand slid over her dark satin skin, down her slightly rounded belly and under the elastic of her panties. She yelped in surprise, her legs parting slightly as his fingers slid down, between her soft folds, sliding in her warm juice.
“So beautiful, mon Ange,” he murmured, “so precious.”
He caressed the silky smooth skin, rubbing at her hard nub with his thumb while he pushed one finger forward, breeching her clinging passage.
“Deke,” she moaned, “That feels…that feels…Deke!”
He rubbed harder now, kissing her full lips then dropping further to nip a penny colored nipple, feeling her tighten as his finger plunged in and out. She clutched at him, cream pouring over his hand as her body clenching as pleasure and surprise chased across her face.
He couldn’t help it, the sight of Angel’s gratification—head thrown back, eyes shut tight, her expression frozen in ecstasy, had him imagining a future. One fleeting image of her underneath him with that look on her face and Deke thrust up, coming, and coming, flowing, sticky and warm in his boxers.
Angel collapsed against Deke, too spent to be embarrassed about where his hand was. After an interminable gap of panting and kissing lightly, stroking and cuddling, Deke shifted.
“That was beautiful, mon Ange,” he rumbled, voice deep and hoarse. “But we’re both pretty sticky now, yeah?” His hand had made its way back to her waist after tugging her shirt and bra to rights.
She couldn’t help it,
giggling into his shoulder. “I think you’re a little stickier than I am, but you’re making me that way.”
“See what you do to me?” he murmured, kissing behind her ear. “You wanna let me get a quick shower?” He rubbed his stubbly face against her hair. “I wish I could take one with you, Bébé. Only, for me, to see you is to want you. And I’m just not up to round two.”
Angel scooted off of his lap, tugging at the wet spot on her hip with a teasing smirk. She retrieved his crutches and handed them to him, helping him up. “It’s okay, Dekon, I’m not up to round two either.” She looked away as he reached for the gun, tucking it into the back of his pants again.
The steps were easy enough to navigate, leading up six stairs to a wide landing and then turning ninety degrees to lead up six more. She had put Deke in her own room, which she had had updated and improved as a graduation present to herself, before she’d returned to study and test for her specialty.
The bathroom off her suite was large, with a deep, wide tub, but also with a walkin shower which had a platform bench at the back. She liked to sit and shave her legs.
The controls were easy to reach from the bench and she showed them to him. He could lean forward and lift the nozzle and wash himself completely. It would be a simple matter to sit down, remove his clothing and toss it over the glass wall, and then finish the job.
She left a towel and clean boxers close at hand for him. He could leave his crutches within easy reach to get out. Anyway, his pelvic bone injury had had over five weeks now to heal. A little bit of weight wouldn’t cause any further damage.
Before she could walk away, Deke reached out and took her wrist. “You goanna come back and climb in bed with me, yeah?”
“Deke,” she felt a little uneasy, in spite of the intimacy they’d already shared.
“I’ve been saving that for—for when I get married.” She felt her cheeks burn. “I know a—a twenty-seven year old virgin is hard to believe in this day and age, but…”
Deke pulled her against him, balancing on his crutches. “Mon Ange,” he began, intensity burning in his deep blue eyes. “I been married to you in my heart since the first time I ever touched you. You jus’ firmed it up over the last month or so. We don’t never have to do a thing you don’ want. I just want to hold you in my arms while we go to sleep, and wake up to see your face first thing.”
“Oh, Deke,” she sighed, rubbing her face against his upper chest, arms slipping around his waist. He was so much taller than she was. “You are such a romantic. How’d I ever get so lucky?”
“Mais, I’ll be reminding you of that in about twenty years, when I’m really, really old and you’re still a baby.” He released her wrist to steady himself on his crutches.
“I have no doubt that you’ll be every bit as lively then as you are right now,” she smiled. “Okay, I’ll see you in bed in about half an hour.”
———
A feeling of utter calm filled her. She had never before felt so welcome, such a sense of belonging. She was part of something bigger, and so was Deke. She had nothing to be afraid of…
Angel turned to Deke, for the second time in twenty-four hours, sleeping in his arms. The feeling of well-being persisted, even if her dream had faded away.
Chapter Eleven
Angel did her best not to move. She didn’t intend to wake Deke. The problem was, he was draped over the top of her and something was poking the inside of her left thigh.
She’d worn her comfortable, overlarge sleep shirt to bed the night before, figuring that he might as well know what she was like—especially if he planned to spend the rest of his life with her.
That thought alone gave her a delicious thrill. “What you thinkin’ about, Ange?”
Deke asked, his hot breath caressing her ear and causing a full body shiver.
She wouldn’t deny it, she was as aroused as he was, only not as visibly so. Well… maybe she was visibly aroused. His hand slipped down between her legs and teased through her panties. She could feel how damp she was, much more so now that he was helping.
“You,” she said huskily, knowing she was just about to break her vow of celibacy.
If she didn’t marry Deke Doucette, she wouldn’t be marrying anyone, and that was that.
“Yeah?” he tugged at her panties and she helped pull them off.
Both were lying on their sides, he moved his right leg off of her hip when he helped her undress. It was her turn to touch him, and she pushed him over onto his back, kneeling to tug his boxers off.
Accommodating, he lifted his hips and let her pull the cotton undergarment down and off. Angel sat back on her heels and looked, taking in his tanned complexion, not as dark as hers, but enough to hint at Creole ancestry.
Fine black hairs covered his legs from the top of his feet to the thick tangle of black curls at his genitals. The hair was thin and soft, accenting his attractive coloring and his heavy muscle tone, still evident in spite of weeks of inactivity.
Her fingers trailed the reddish-pink scar that trailed down his left side, denoting his recent injury and reminding her how close she’d come to losing him. She leaned down to kiss it gently, not thinking about the effect of her long, wavy hair, until it draped across his jutting cock, causing him to moan aloud.
“Ange, Ange,” he groaned, head thrashing on the pillow, hands gripping the sheets.
She grinned, thrilled with her feminine power as she kissed her way up his abdomen, letting her hair trail across his sacs, his burning shaft endlessly.
In a bold move, Angel rose to her knees and straddled Deke’s thighs, not caring that it opened her up to his view. She leaned forward, planting both hands on his shoulders, lowering herself for a succulent kiss.
“You goanna kill me, Bébé,” he murmured, his full lips moving under hers, his tongue seeking her warmth, stroking against hers.
“Maybe,” she agreed, pulling back, kissing her way down his chiseled face, stopping to nip at the juncture of throat and neck.
Her journey continued as she trailed her lips across his prominent clavicle, and then kissing and nipping her way down to a flat nipple, lathing it back and forth with her tongue. She leaned back to bite it lightly, delighting in the strangled explanation he just barely managed to contain.
Angel didn’t stop, though, kissing every one of his ribs until her erotic journey brought her to his flexing hips.
Finally, she sat back on her heels, considering the proof of his manhood. It was thick and long. She measured it with her spread hand, from pinkie to thumb and guessed it to be about eight inches, maybe a little more.
“Ohhh, gawd,” Deke groaned. “Ange…”
She cut him off by wrapping her hand around his throbbing cock. An involuntary thrust of his hips told her she was on the right track. One squeeze and a pump and he sat partially up, taking her by the shoulders.
“You goanna finish me like that, Ange,” he warned her. “That’s fine with me if that’s what you want.”
“It’s not,” she informed him decisively.
“No?” he arched a brow, looking both hungry and knowing, but still leaving the choice up to her.
“No,” she sounded breathy now, excited. “I want you inside me. But I don’t want to hurt your injury.” At his look of askance, she smiled a little. “I’m not as tall as you, but I’m a size fourteen at least.”
“Uh,” Deke’s face tinted a little pink. “If that means you’re soft and curvy, like I love, I don’ care if you’re a size eighty-seven.”
Angel grinned. No doubt about it, she’d hit the jackpot. She lay down, full-length on top of him. “What’s the best way to go about this without me sitting on you or you putting lots of weight on your pelvis?”
Deke cleared his throat, apparently trying to think. “How about you come down on top of me, then we both roll to the side?” He nipped at her lip, sinking his tongue deep into her mouth. “You do know it’s goanna hurt some, yeah?” he asked quietly.
&nb
sp; With a quick kiss, she pushed herself back to her knees. “I think I read that somewhere,” she winked. “I am a nurse, Dekon,” she chuckled.
She positioned herself above his hips, pulled the head of his cock to her gushing center, and brought herself down onto him.
Angel yelped involuntarily in pain, tears springing to her eyes.
“Bébé, Bébé,” Deke crooned, wrapping his arms around her.
He rolled her to her back and let his legs fall on either side of hers. Resting mostly on his forearms, just a little on his right knee, Deke began to thrust.
He kissed her face, her chin, her neck, sliding in and out of her, gliding into her slick center and out again. Angel couldn’t help but wrap her legs around his, bucking up in rhythm to his thrusts. The pain hadn’t lasted and now, a feeling was welling up, deep, maybe from her toes, but all centered right where they were joined.
Joined. That’s what they were, joined. The love, the amazing glide, the slick sweat, the feeling of owning, being owned, all of it wrapped Angel up in an amazing cocoon that wrapped her up and set her free, all at the same time.
As if from a distance, she heard her own scream, Deke’s shout, releasing her into a million tiny pieces, all mixed up together with him. They were two, but one, at the same time.
———
Deke sipped his coffee as he looked out over the beautiful garden that Angel loved so much. They’d finished eating breakfast a little while ago and Deke was enjoying the silence as he relived their lovemaking.
Angel had come into his life like the bullet that had taken him down—incapacitating him and changing his life. Now he had one less body part and one more soul in his life.
He chuckled at that silly comparison, stopping abruptly when he heard male voices from within the house. He leaned forward, grabbing for his pistol with one hand and a crutch with the other, brought up short by his brother’s voice.
“Calm down, Dekon, aint’ nobody here but us Doucettes!” Remy crowed, coming out into the little courtyard to join him. “Look what I found out rodee',” running the roads, he accused as he stepped aside to reveal his son, Storm.