Page 47 of Screwed

“I guess this is your way of apologizing,” I said, throwing my bra on top of my abandoned clothes pile. I took my hair out of its ponytail and shook it free. Deacon’s grip on his own arms turned white-knuckled.

“Me, apologizing?” he scoffed. “For what would I—?” The rest of the sentence died in his throat as I slipped two fingers on either side of my panties and pulled them down, shimmying my hips to work them free. I let it drop to the ground, then kicked it off to the side, now naked.

I didn’t turn around to watch his expression, but I could feel the tension he was radiating. The back of my neck prickled, the feeling you get when you’re being intensely stared at. I picked up the shower gel I had brought with me and squirted some of it onto my washcloth, letting it lather. “Are you going to finish telling me about all the wonderful, miraculous things you did to this shower?”

I heard him step forward, his boots clicking against the wet river stones. He reached past me to adjust the dial, then let his knuckles brush intentionally against my bare shoulder. The steam and heat from the shower did nothing to prevent the chill that ran through me.

“I thought about putting a roof on it today.” His voice was right at my ear, so close that I could hear the slight tremor in it. So much bravado, and yet he was so easy to disarm. That was one thing that drove me crazy about him.

I finally turned around. He inhaled sharply, his eyes dropping down my wet body, but he still didn’t touch me. His hands balled into fists at his side. “I figured…you’d probably prefer having nothing between you and the sky out here. Among other things.”

“Other things?” I questioned, whispering against his mouth.

“What do you think?” he asked again. “Do you approve?”

I paused for a minute. My hand trailed down his wet shirt, stopping just above his hard cock.

“I think the shower is everything I envisioned,” I said, locking my eyes with his. My hand trailed lower, and Deacon let out a low grunt. “More than I envisioned, actually. But there is one thing that’ll make it even better.”

“Yeah?” Deacon panted, his chest hitching.

I curled my fingers under his shirt and lifted it over his head. He helped me get rid of the pants and underwear too until he was finally just as bare as me. I let my eyes rake over his body. It was the first time we both actually saw each other naked. In the truck, everything had been a rushed blur of shedding clothes and cramping limbs. But now we could fully appreciate the view.

I put my hands on his hips and pulled him closer. “Perfect now that you’re naked with me.”

Deacon’s last shred of control and dignity went flying out the window with that statement. He grabbed the sides of my face, his fingers raking through my hair as he crashed his mouth to mine and backed me up against the wall. The cold bite of the panel behind me was a sharp contrast to the heat of his body, and the mix of it only amplified my arousal.

I was still high-strung from my fantasies, my body still desperate for more, so much that I gave an embarrassing whine as his lips found my neck. Both of us let go for a moment until I put my palms against his chest and shoved him back a little.

“This is still supposed to be a shower,” I said, my breath coming in hard and fast.

Deacon’s eyes were wild with lust, but he just nodded, content to play along to make things last. I handed him my shower gel, and he soaped up his hands, discarding my washcloth and instead opting to manually soap me up. His hands were rough and strong, but the glide of the shower gel made things smooth as he explored my body. I turned in his arms, my back now facing him.

I groaned, leaning my head back as his hands slipped over my breasts and his palms grazed my hard nipples. He exhaled raggedly behind me, pressing his mouth to my temple. His hands continued to play with my breasts, then moved lower to my stomach and sides. His body was pressed against mine, and the eroticism of everything was enough to tease an orgasm from me right there. But I didn’t want it to end yet.

I let him have his fun before I turned around and pressed my soaped-up chest against his. He groaned low at the feeling, his hands gripping my back and sliding down to my hips. My hands traveled to his ass, massaging his gorgeous, muscled glutes. He propped a thigh between my legs and tried to leverage our position to get me to straddle it.

I gave a sigh of pleasure, and my head tipped back as he swept forward and claimed my throat with his mouth. I felt his tongue on my skin, tasting one of the few parts of me not covered in soap. His hand tangled in my wet hair and for a while, as we just lazily allowed our bodies to grind against each other, I didn’t care about the argument. I didn’t care about feeling guilty anymore, or trying to decipher the strangeness of my desires for all three of the men working on my house.

“You feel so good,” he panted against my jaw, his mouth delivering a lazy, open-mouthed kiss to my neck. I reached down and gripped a slippery hand around his dick, gasping with him as I stroked him.

“So do you,” I said. In response, he rocked his thigh against my core, and soft, muted pleasure exploded between my thighs. Our hands continued to roam, and grope, and tease until the cedar door slammed open, and both of us froze on the spot.

“D, are you in—?” Ethan stopped mid-sentence, and his eyes finally allowed him to process what he was seeing. Deacon’s grip on my body tightened. Ethan looked shocked, his face turning red before he took a step back. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to walk in on you guys.”

And yet he was still standing there, a tent already forming in his work pants.

The air in the small enclosure turned electric. Ethan didn’t move. He didn’t look away either. His chest rose and fell in a sharp, ragged breath. And Deacon didn’t pull away, either. “We’re a little busy right now, Moore. In case you couldn’t tell.”

But at that moment, my adrenaline spiked. I looked right at Ethan through the rising steam, the water slicking down my face. And instead of cosigning what Deacon just said and chasing him away, I reached out. My wet fingers wrapped firmly around the front of his soft flannel shirt, and I gave it a slow, deliberate tug, pulling him forward across the threshold and into the heat of the shower.

And Ethan, sweet, lovely Ethan, whose kind gestures I’d always thought made him look innocent, closed the door behind him.

28

Deacon

The very last thing I expected was for Ava to yank Ethan in here with us. We were now all cramped in the tiny shower—him, her, me, and my little friend who was not so little and kinda pissed at the intrusion.