Page 5 of Petty AF (At First #1)

five

~ River ~

A s it turned out, the curse had not been temporary.

Every morning for the past week, I had awoken with the hope that this would be the day. That the magic would lift, and I would get my life back.

Or at the very least, my filter.

A couple of times, I even fooled myself into believing it. As I had come to find out, however, the hex only activated around other people. Alone, I didn’t spontaneously narrate my every thought, but as soon as I had an audience, all bets were off.

My mood didn’t seem to matter, either. Angry, excited, horny—it all came spilling out at the most inappropriate times. Which had led me to another uncomfortable truth.

Those two certainties in life? Yeah, there were actually three.

Death, taxes, and the possibility that I would absolutely say something unhinged every time I opened my mouth.

Desperate, I had even turned to MNSTR, hoping to find a witch or a warlock to undo the spell. It seemed the news of my encounter with Joss Weller had spread through the magical grapevine, though, because every request had been denied without explanation.

Not trusting myself to engage with civilized company, I had canceled my appointments for the week and rearranged my schedule to avoid leaving my house too often. I hated it, but honestly, removing myself from society practically counted as community service at this point.

That didn’t mean I’d been completely alone, though.

Through it all, Deaton had been right by my side. He had kept me from losing my mind, and he didn’t take offense when I said something outrageous. I truly didn’t know what I would have done without him.

He had also helped me draft messages to Otto and my parents, explaining why I would be unavailable for a little while. The fact that I couldn’t even text without my inner monologue being on full display was a whole new level of pettiness I hadn’t anticipated.

It didn’t end there either. I couldn’t watch a movie, play a board game, or seemingly exist without it becoming a problem, which made finding ways to spend time with Deaton challenging. Though he repeatedly assured me he didn’t mind my outbursts, it had to be exhausting.

Hell, I stressed myself out, and I lived with me.

Still, we had found ways to occupy our days that didn’t end with me wanting to melt into the floor. Cooking together seemed to be okay since I didn’t really give a damn how he chopped onions or seasoned our steaks.

Basically, I tried to avoid anything I had strong opinions about and opted instead for activities that required minimum commentary on my part. Which had somehow led to us giving my tiny front yard a spring glow up.

It had sounded like a good idea at first, but as it turned out, Deaton and I had very different ideas of what constituted “gardening.” I had been envisioning a quiet afternoon of planting colorful flowers and maybe pulling a few weeds.

Not trimming trees, edging the lawn, shaping bushes, and spreading new mulch.

It was hot. I had dirt under my nails and sweat in my ass crack. Muscles ached that I didn’t even know existed, and the sight of Deaton shirtless and glistening in the midday sun was stupid distracting.

So, of course, I’d had to voice every single one of my complaints. Loudly. Vividly. In mortifying detail.

My yard did look amazing, though.

“I hurt in places that shouldn’t hurt,” I griped as I trudged into the living room after the longest, hottest shower of my life.

“Poor baby,” Deaton teased from his spot on the couch.

While I had offered to scrub the dirt from every inch of his muscled body, he had politely declined, deciding to shower in the guest bathroom instead. Considering how painfully awkward I’d been when I’d said it, I couldn’t say I blamed him.

But now I had a new problem.

I wanted him, and I knew he felt the same way. I just didn’t know how to convince him that, even though I wouldn’t typically be so blunt, I really did mean it.

“Come here, diva.” Swiveling around on the sofa, Deaton patted the cushion between his legs. “Let’s see if I can work out some of those knots.”

Not about to pass up the opportunity to feel his hands on me, I hurried across the room and settled down between his powerful thighs. “Do you want me to take my shirt off?”

“Behave,” he said, laughing as he tugged at a lock of my damp hair.

“Where’s the fun in that?”

His hands settled on my shoulders, his thumbs pressing firmly into the tense muscles at the base of my neck. I groaned before I could stop myself, the sound eliciting another teasing chuckle from my mate.

“Tell me,” Deaton said, his voice light on the surface but edged with something sharper. “Do you always overthink things, or is it part of the spell?”

That didn’t exactly sound like a compliment. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’re doing it again,” he said, leaning in so his warm breath tickled the shell of my ear. “You’ve been driving yourself crazy all day, overanalyzing everything I say and do. I’m really not that complicated, though.”

He continued to knead the muscles in my neck and shoulders, the knots melting beneath his touch despite my growing anxiety. “Stop being cryptic and just telling me what you mean.”

“You think I don’t want you,” he said bluntly. His lips ghosted up the side of my neck, just a soft whisper that sent an involuntary shiver through me. “You’re wrong.”

My heart stopped, flopped over in my chest, then resumed at a frantic rhythm that made it hard to breathe. For some reason, my neck seemed to be connected directly to my groin, and every brush of lips sent a pulse straight to my cock.

“Then why didn’t you want to shower together?” I asked, unable to hold back the question.

“Oh, believe me, I did.” He chuckled again and slid a hand down my chest, his thumb raking over my nipple through my shirt. “It’s all about timing.”

“It’s because I was being a bitch, isn’t it?” My voice was quiet, shaky, and I trembled as I arched into his touch.

“You weren’t being a bitch.” He snorted out another laugh. “You were just a little cranky.”

“Okay, I get that.” I really wanted to shut up, but of course, that didn’t happen. “I’m pretty sure you could have fucked the bad mood out of me, though.” Closing my eyes, I sank against him with a groan. “I hate this stupid curse.”

“Then maybe we need to find a better way to occupy your mouth.”

Gripping my chin, he turned my head, claiming my lips and igniting the embers that had been burning between us all week. His tongue traced the seam of my mouth, seeking entrance, and I opened for him with a quiet moan of invitation.

His grasp on my chin tightened when he plunged inside, pulling a needy whimper from deep within my chest. Rolling toward him, I managed to turn without breaking the kiss, and he repositioned, making room for me in his lap.

He continued to nibble at my lips as he slid his hands beneath the hem of my shirt and pushed it up my chest. I pulled away then, just long enough for him to strip the cotton off over my head before diving in to attack his mouth again.

Every breath became harsher, shallower, and I rocked my hips, rubbing my swollen cock against his stomach.

“I love kissing you,” I blurted. “Fuck, you feel amazing. I need you, Deaton. I need more.” The words tumbled out in a rush, every horny thought going straight from my brain to my mouth. “I’ve been hard all week, and I can’t wait anymore.”

Any concerns I had that I was being too demanding evaporated when Deaton responded with a sexy growl, his fingers tightening around my hips.

Spurred by his reaction, I scrambled off his lap and shed the remainder of my clothing. Then I hurried over to the end table to retrieve the lube from the top drawer. Turning back, I froze, my mouth falling open when I found Deaton standing behind me, completely and gloriously naked.

Damn, he was gorgeous. And big. Each hard brick of muscle flexed with every breath he took, and his thick cock jutted proudly from a nest of dark curls.

The tips of his canines protruded beneath his top lip, and his dark eyes flared, glowing with a faint, silver light that seemed to penetrate to the depths of my soul.

“You keep lube in the living room?” he asked, arching an eyebrow in question.

“It doesn’t hurt to be prepared,” I snapped, pushing at his chest until he sank onto the couch cushions.

I also had a bottle in the kitchen, both bathrooms, and the garage. Just in case.

Climbing back onto his lap, I flipped the cap open and dribbled the gel over his cock, smearing it along the rigid length with my hand. Deaton growled, his glowing eyes tracking my movements as his fingers bit into my waist.

“Slow down, River.”

I shook my head. “I can’t. Not this time. I’m sorry.”

I didn’t need seduction, flowery words, or poetic declarations. I just needed him.

“Don’t be sorry.” His hold on me gentled as he helped guide me over his hard length. “Take what you need, baby.”

The breath exploded from my chest as I sank onto him, taking him inside me with less care than I probably should have. “Christ, you’re big,” I groaned, my head falling forward to rest against his shoulder when I bottomed out. “Oh, god, I can feel your heart beating inside me. Holy fuck.”

The burn was intense, spreading a wave of heat across my skin, and I trembled as I tried to force my muscles to relax. The bite of pain did nothing to lessen my desire, though. If anything, it only fanned the flames, pushing my need to a fever pitch that seared away all my inhibitions.

Sitting up again, I moved gently, rocking my hips in small increments. After a couple of false starts, the discomfort subsided, leaving only a deep, aching pressure that continued to build when I increased the tempo.

Leaning over him, I grabbed his face in both hands, drinking down his groan as I crushed our mouths together.

My tongue moved in tandem with my hips, plunging between his lips to taste and explore.

At the same time, I set a relentless pace, rising and falling, taking him deeper with every descent, driving us both toward the edge of no return.

“You are so fucking tight,” Deaton growled. “You feel too good. I’m not going to last.”

“Me, either,” I agreed, feeling the familiar tingle of impending climax. “So close. Fuck me, Deaton.”

Snarling, he locked one arm around my waist and gripped the back of my neck, pulling me down on his cock as he arched his hips. Hard and fast, he drove into me, his grunts and groans joining my cries, pushing us both toward a goal that felt just out of reach.

I sensed it before I felt it, a shift in the air, a change in the vibrations of his tone. If I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes, I probably wouldn’t have believed it.

His chest swelled, broadening beneath my hands, and the arm around my torso hardened into a steel band. My legs were pushed wider as his thighs expanded, and when I looked up to meet his gaze, I found his eyes level with my own.

“Don’t be scared,” he said, his voice a dark, sexy growl.

Shaking my head, I reached between us and fisted my erection, jerking myself in time to his demanding thrusts. “I’m not scared.”

With an answering nod, he tangled his fingers in my hair and attacked my mouth in a fervent kiss, nipping my bottom lip, then soothing the sting with his tongue. I wrapped my free hand around the back of his neck, clinging to him, trying to anchor myself, but it was no use.

My stomach tightened, waves of electricity raced down my spine, and I jerked my mouth away to gasp for breath. The next thing I knew, I was falling, drowning, dragged beneath a wave of pleasure so intense I feared I’d never surface.

Tossing my head back, I cried out, my voice echoing through the room as ropes of hot cream jetted from my slit. It coated my hand, my wrist, and splashed over Deaton’s stomach to paint his skin.

His arms tightened, holding me immobile as he pistoned his hips, pumping hard and fast through his own release. Then, with a resounding roar, he stilled and buried his face against the side of my neck, his body rigid as he spilled a river of molten lava into my clenching depths.

Sated and exhausted, I fell against his chest with a contented sigh.

“Wow,” I breathed a few minutes later. “That was intense. And what the hell just happened to your body?” Now that the high had passed, he seemed to be shrinking, returning to his normal size in real time. “Is this a werewolf thing?”

“It’s never happened before.” He sounded slightly concerned about that. “Is it okay?”

I burrowed deeper into his arms and grinned. “It doesn’t hurt you, right?”

“No, it doesn’t hurt,” he confirmed as he stroked my hair.

“In that case, it is very okay.” I turned my head to peek up at him, my mind filled with all kinds of deliciously dirty thoughts. “Want to try again? For research purposes, of course.”

Deaton chuckled, but his cock twitched inside me, swelling with renewed interest. “You are trouble.”

“That doesn’t sound like a no.”

“Behave,” he said, smacking me lightly on the butt. “You’re already going to be sore as hell tomorrow.”

“Fine,” I huffed and settled against him again.

I could wait, but I was nothing if not persistent.