It’s enough to bring tears to my eyes, because he loved me so completely yesterday—comforting me when I was sad, being present with my family, taking care of my body.
My heart.
I felt his love and adoration in each thrust, each stroke—each kiss—the way he somehow made me whole again.
Wetness covers my cheeks as I try to steady my breathing and dry my face without disturbing Deacon.
“What time is it?” he grunts, his breath on my shoulder sending a zing of electricity to my cock, creating some late-night emotional whiplash as I pray my voice doesn’t betray me.
“Midnight.”
I can feel the change in Deacon’s breathing, the soothing rumble of sleep replaced by an alertness that will be all too knowing.
“What’s wrong?”
Sighing, I turn in his arms and drape my leg over his thigh, noting the soreness of my backside as I do.
I like it.
I like the reminder that I’ve given that part of myself to him.
“I love you.”
“You…”
“I love you.”
“I told you that you didn’t need to say it.”
“And I told you I needed a nap.”
Deacon smiles, his paw of a hand clamping down on my hip as he presses a light kiss to my mouth.
“Fair enough.” Pulling back, his hand moves to my face, his thumb wiping away the last few lingering tears. “What’s this then?”
“It’s realizing that I’m allowed to be happy.” Swallowing hard, I add, “That I’m allowed to be me.”
Deacon clears his throat, and even in the dark, I can see the rapid fluttering of his eyelids like he too is trying to stave off the tears.
It’s a night of revelations, no doubt about that.
“I love who you are. I love that you continue to amaze me every single day.”
“I couldn’t have gotten here without you.”
“I’ll be honest,” Deacon muses. “I don’t know how I would have stomached another man’s hands on you.”
Fingertips skate across my shoulder and down my back before his palm splays across my ass cheek.
“You don’t need to worry.”
“I may need some reassurance.”
“And I may need that shower.”
“Both sound good to me.”
DEACON
