“And I want you to know that I feel the same way. I don’t regret anything, except that I hurt you. If I could go back and do it all over again, I wouldn’t leave Harper Springs that day. I know I promised you that I won’t ever leave you again—and I won’t—but I thought you should know.”
“Hmmm.” I finished his feet and moved back to his side. I was ready for him to roll over, but there was something I needed to say first.
“Deacon, how many children did you treat in Slovenia?”
“Oh . . . I don’t know. A couple of hundred? I didn’t keep track. I wasn’t notching saves in my belt buckle. Why do you ask?” He sounded mystified.
“If you hadn’t gone to Slovenia, some of those children might have been okay. There were other doctors. They might have recovered or survived, and it might not have made a difference. But I know you, and I know that at least some of those children are alive today because you went over there.” I rested one hand on his lower back. “And while I was terribly hurt, and I was devasted that you’d left me without warning, I wouldn’t change the fact that you were there to save those lives.”
He was quiet for a moment, and then he coughed. “What if you were there, too? What if I’d taken you with me to Slovenia? We might have saved even more.”
“Then there wouldn’t have been anyone here to run the wing in your absence, Mira would have had a nervous breakdown, and we could have never come back to Harper Springs.” I patted his hip. “Things worked out the way they were meant to, babe. Now turn over so I can finish your massage.”
“I thought you’d never ask.”
Deacon rolled, settling himself on his back, his hands folded behind his head. His cock stood proudly, as if reminding me that it was there and waiting for my attention.
I sighed. “Please put your hands down along your sides.” I moved back to his feet and poured more oil in my hand.
“Hey, where are you going? You already massaged my feet and my legs. The most important parts youhaven’tmassaged yet are up here.” He motioned to his groin.
“Deacon, who’s doing this massage? You or me?” I glared at him.
“Yeah, you are, but I’m just being helpful. In case you forgot.”
“There is no way I’m going to forget to massage that part of you, okay? But if I start there, I’ll never get to the rest of your body. Are we clear on that?”
He blinked, considering. “Basically, you’re saving the best for last?”
I nodded. “Fine. Yes. I’m saving the best for last. Are you happy?”
He shrugged. “I will be. Eventually.”
“Good point. Now close your eyes and your mouth. Let me work.”
I concentrated on his legs and then moved up to his pecs, enjoying the muscles of his chest and abs. I rubbed his hands, holding each one between my boobs, which made him grunt a little in enjoyment.
And then, finally, I added more oil and stood alongside his hip. I wrapped the fingers of one hand around his cock, and with the other, I cradled his balls.
Deacon’s eyes flew open. “Oh, we’re at the best for last part. Finally.”
“Right. Finally.” I gave him a few experimental pumps. “How’s the pressure there? Good?”
“Perfect.” His voice was strained. “Do that, oh, about another thirty or forty times, and it’ll be even more perfect.”
“Duly noted.” I ran my fingers up and down the shaft. “Now, this part of the massage is a little unorthodox. It involves some extracurricular movements.”
“Like what—OH.”
Deacon groaned as I leaned over and took his cock into my mouth, my tongue teasing as I lowered my mouth as far as I could. When the head hit the back of my throat, I swallowed, and he nearly flew off the table.
“Holy fuck, babe. Do that again.”
I smiled around his dick. “Hmmm. Maybe if you’re good.” My words were garbled—hard to talk clearly with a mouth full of cock—but he must have understood.
“Oh, babe, I’m so good. Just you wait and see.”
I took him deep a few more times before I released him and straightened up. One hand was still on his erection, stroking him. I trailed my fingers down his thighs, teasing his balls.
