Convicted (21 page)

He looked at the bed. "Mom will be out for another two hours."

"It's almost like being a teenager again," Lisa said. And it was. Thoughts of being discovered only heightened the passion already ignited.

"Just let me get...what we need," Deacon said. "Don't want to ruin the moment later."

She shifted enough to let him get up and reclined on the love seat. Lisa felt lazy, like a cat purring. Her nipples tingled from Deacon's touch, and she felt like she was wearing way too much clothing.

How was it possible to want someone so badly? She thought with some regret of the time spent with Terry. He'd never made her feel this way. Lisa pushed the thoughts from her mind. She didn't want to be thinking about Terry when Deacon's hands were on her.

Deacon rummaged around in his bedside drawer. "I know I have some in here."

"I'm not even going to ask why." The thought of Deacon with another woman made her pause, but she kept her word. There was no point in going there anyway. She really didn't want to know.

All that mattered was here and now. Deacon and Lisa. There could be nobody else tonight. Tomorrow would be enough time to figure out where they were going. For now, it was enough to anticipate undressing him. Allowing him to undress her.

She'd waited three years for this. Lisa wasn't going to ruin it by over-thinking now. She got up from the love seat and crossed to the bed. She ran one finger along the plain footboard, smoothing the curves of it and enjoying the feel of the smooth wood beneath her fingertips. In this heightened state, everything had become sensual. Every movement, every touch, every smell...

She smelled something familiar. Something that wasn't cinnamon or vanilla, and it wasn't the musky familiar scent of Deacon's cologne. It was lighter, like flowers.
Like a woman's perfume.

Before she could think much more about it, Deacon found what he'd been searching for. He put the small foil packet on the night stand and turned to her. His sultry smile faltered when he saw her face.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"Nothing," Lisa said, and forced herself to believe it. Whatever had happened before was not happening now. She was here with Deacon, and he with her.

To prove it to herself, she jumped on the bed, making it bounce. His grin returned and he slid down to lay beside her. She fit in the circle of his arms as though they'd been joined at birth. Snuggling against him, feeling his mouth press against her hair, Lisa shoved away the tickle of doubt that threatened to turn the fire of her passion into ice.

"I've waited a long time for this," he whispered, his voice husky. "It was all I thought about when I was away."

"Sure," she teased, wanting to believe him but not sure if she should. "You didn't think about anything else? Not at all?"

"Well," he amended. "Maybe I thought about beating your butt at darts. But mostly about this."

She knew he had to be gallantly lying, but the lie pleased her anyway. "Me, too."

She tilted her face to his, opening her mouth to his kisses and relishing the heat of his arousal against her stomach. There were too many clothes between them, even though she wore only a denim skort and sleeveless blouse. Too much material, when all she wanted, needed, was his flesh against hers.

"Hurry," she said against him, smiling. "Before your mother gets home."

His fingers fumbled at the buttons on her shirt, and Lisa pushed at him impatiently. She lifted the blouse over her head and tossed it to the floor. Refusing to feel self-conscious at the way his eyes gleamed, she touched the front hook of her bra. She didn't have to ask. Deacon reached out and flicked the small hook with his finger, loosening it.

The peach cotton fell away, exposing her to the air and his gaze. Though the breeze from the open window was blessedly cool, it wasn't enough to chill the fever sweeping over Lisa's body. Her nipples strained even further becoming taut pink buds that begged for Deacon's tongue.

He obliged her body's silent request, dipping his head to taste first one breast, then the other. Lisa let her head fall back, helpless against the onslaught of sensation rocking through her. It had been so long. Too long since a man's hands had touched her this way. Too long since she'd felt the slickness of arousal between her thighs and the ache of desire. And never this strong, this powerful. None of her previous lovers had ever made her feel this way.

Deacon pushed her onto her back, letting his mouth run over her breasts and down to the soft paleness of her stomach. His tongue traced tiny circles onto her skin. Lisa sighed with bliss, closing her eyes and running her hands through his dark hair. She was floating.

He paused at the waistband of her skort. "How does this thing come off anyway?"

Lisa opened her eyes, laughing. "I'll do it. And you're wearing too many clothes."

They sat up. Lisa put her hands to the buttons on his denim shirt, running her fingers along the length of them. So many to undo when she wanted to tear just them open. Instead, she kept his gaze skewered with her own as she slowly undid each one. She paused to press her mouth to the exposed flesh of his throat, feeling his pulse beating rapidly under her lips. With every button she moved down more and more, pushing the shirt from his chest.

She stopped to pay attention to his twin brown nipples surrounded by dark, curling hair. Deacon moaned as she flicked them each with her tongue, and Lisa hid a grin. Two could play the same game. She nuzzled her nose in his chest hair letting it tickle her eyes and cheeks before following the line of it down past his navel to where it disappeared into his waistband.

She didn't have to ask how to undo his jeans. She unbuckled his belt and undid the snap, but hesitated before unzipping. She looked at him, saw the same desire clouding his eyes she felt covering her own. She put her hand on the bulge trying to escape the confines of his jeans, and felt him throb at her touch.

Lisa quickly undid the side buttons of her skort and slipped it off. Now she wore only the sheerest of panties that hid nothing. She helped Deacon slip down his jeans, prepared to see boxers or briefs. Instead, she saw more dark hair, pale flesh, and the length of him rising from between his thighs.

"You don't wear underwear?" she cried, shocked into laughter.

Deacon kicked off his pants onto the floor and stretched out fully on the bed. "Nope. Saves on laundry."

Lisa shook her head. "Don't you...chafe?"

Deacon rolled his eyes. "Let me show you."

She was in his arms again kissing his mouth, his neck, the curve of his jaw. Deacon ran his mouth along the line of her shoulder, and all she could do then was lie back and enjoy the sensations rushing through her. He moved back to her breasts, circling her nipples with his tongue and leaving wet patches to cool in the night breeze.

He pressed kisses past the cup of her navel and to the line of her panties. Lisa sucked in a breath of anticipation waiting for him to slip them off. Deacon surprised her, stroking her through the sheer cloth, trailing his finger lightly. The sensation, muffled as it was through her panties, was nonetheless enough to make her bite her lip and rock her hips. He pressed his fingers against her again, trailing along the ridge of her opening, then stopping to press gently on her aroused bud. He was driving her crazy.

She wanted to be open before him, without the barrier of the cloth, but Lisa could not speak. Could not ask. Could do little more than spread her legs at his touch and throw back her head willing him to continue.

He took his hand away and a low sound of protest tore itself from her throat. Seconds later, she felt the heat of his mouth against her, kissing her through the panties. His tongue flicked out and repeated the slow, teasing movement his fingers had made pausing at each stroke to provide the same tormenting pressure. The cloth, sheer as it was, muted the feelings of his movements just enough to make them that much more infuriatingly sensual.

Lisa breathed deeply letting the feelings wash over her. She was on the ocean, rolling with the waves. She was soaring in the sky on eagle's wings.

His hands rested on her hips tugging lightly at the string sides of her bikini panties. Without being asked, Lisa lifted her hips to let him finally pull down the last piece of cloth between them. Then she waited, eyes closed, breathless.

The touch, when it came, was torturous. She longed for him to plunge into her, against her, to stroke her and fill her. Lisa's moan came from low in her throat, but there was no longer any thought of being embarrassed. This was what happened when lovers joined. Noise and smell and tangled movements. It was ecstasy.

She felt his hands drifting along her thighs, stroking. His kisses were fire against her, licking and tasting. Lisa rocked with Deacon's movements.

Her fingers clutched at the bedspread, crumpling it. She was so close, so close. Every touch of his tongue and hands moved her a fraction closer to the edge. Deacon slipped one finger inside her, and Lisa cried out again overcome with sensation.

"I want you," she told him.

He pressed one last kiss to her and slid up her body to meet her mouth with his. She felt him again on her stomach, and this time there was nothing between them. Nothing to keep the sensation of his hot, silky erection from the softness of her belly.

She slipped her knee between his, pressing their bodies even closer. Without the direct pressure of his mouth on her, the proximity of her orgasm had ebbed enough that she didn't feel so dangerously close. It was her turn to do a little torturing. Swiftly, Lisa pushed Deacon onto his back.

"Hey, I like this," he said.

"Shh," she said. "It gets better."

She didn't waste time teasing him too much. She was too eager to hear him moan and feel him squirm beneath her. She did take the time to cup his weight in her palm before sliding her mouth along his length.

Deacon rewarded her instantly with a groan. The sound of it sent a bolt of fire directly between her thighs. Lisa closed her lips around him again drawing forth a muffled curse this time. She laughed silently, shoulders shaking.

It felt good to laugh even while her body sang with desire. It was good to be so comfortable with him. She'd never felt this way with anyone. Nakedness had always brought shyness. Lovemaking had brought uncertainty. What seemed all right in the dark made meeting her lover's eyes in the light of day awkward.

Tomorrow she would not have trouble looking at Deacon. In fact, the only regret she had was that they'd been unable to wait to get to her house, so she would not wake up in his arms.

"We'll just have to go over there and do this again," she said, finishing her thought out loud.

"What?" Deacon's voice was slurred, but he tilted his head to look at her. "What did you say?"

"I want to wake up in your arms tomorrow," Lisa said, crawling up next to him and nestling into his arms. "I want to finish making love to you and fall asleep with you."

He didn't say anything. Lisa didn't look at him, suddenly nervous that she'd gone too far...said too much. She fought the awkwardness threatening to creep in.

Don't think! Don't think too much!

But her fears were groundless. Deacon pulled her tighter against him and kissed her hair. "Me, too. But we can't do that here. Sorry. Mom would probably keel over."

"So, we'll have to go back to my place and do this all over again," Lisa said.

"Lisa," Deacon said sternly. "What do you think I'm made of? Let's just get through this once okay?"

"I'm sure--" Lisa said as she grasped his erection and squeezed gently. "--that you'll be able to rise to the occasion."

His groan was not of pleasure this time. Lisa poked him. He poked her back, but gently, then pulled her on top of him and wrapped his arms around her.

Slowly, softly, they kissed, their passion ebbing and flowing in a rhythm all its own. They turned to their sides, shifting on the bed and sliding arms and legs around each other. It seemed impossible to get close enough.

"Deacon," Lisa sighed, holding him tightly. "I've never felt like this before."

"I have," he said.

His unexpected answer threw her and she pulled out of his embrace. "What?"

He grinned. "With you. Before. I felt like this all the time."

He took her hand and drew it back to his length. "Just like this. It made riding the bike difficult."

She poked him again, then kissed him. "I'm sure it did."

They kissed some more, rolling on the bed without caring which way they went or why. Pillows went flying and the bedspread crumpled. Deacon konked his head on the headboard, and when Lisa laughed, he began to tickle her mercilessly.

She'd never been tickled naked before and she thought she'd hate it. In her aroused state, though, even this normally annoying touch set her nerves tingling as he stroked her back and forth along the belly. When he bent to blow raspberries against her stomach, though, Lisa had to cry out for him to stop.

"Enough," she cried, wiping away tears of laughter. "Isn't your mom going to be home soon?"

Deacon looked at the clock. "I don't want this to be over."

She became serious. "Neither do I."

The mood, which had gone from sultry to silly and back again, deepened once more into sensuality. Gently, softly, Deacon pressed Lisa to the bed and covered her body with his. Their mouths joined, opening and closing in perfect time. His hands drifted through her hair, and she let hers run along his back.

"Let's not wait any more," she said. "I want you, Deacon."

He reached for the foil packet on the nightstand, but pushed it too far with his fingers. It fell off the stand and behind the bed. With a defeated groan, Deacon buried his head against her shoulder.

"I'll get it," she said, kissing his ear. "Butter fingers."

He moved aside to let her roll over. Lisa hung her head over the edge of the bed, searching for the glint of silver in the dim light. Deacon's touch, drifting lightly along her buttocks, was a pleasant distraction.

Lisa wiggled further to the edge, hanging her head down more to see beneath the bed. There it was, the oblong packet glimmering seductively among the dust bunnies. She hooked it with her finger, pulling it into her palm just as something else caught her eye.