“Yeah, I think so.”
I’m sitting on the couch with my legs out to the side. Deacon reaches his arm out and wraps it around my shoulder, pulling me into his side.
Holy crap. My heart is racing a mile a minute. Fuckity f**k f**k. Don’t freak out, Cam! Deep breaths. I can’t hear the sounds of the grunting zombies over the sound emanating from my own, pounding chest. This would be so much easier if Deacon were just some random guy and we were at my house. He could bend me over the couch, f**k me hard and fast until I found my release, and then I could kick him out, never having to speak to him again. So. Much. Easier.
But Deacon is not some random guy. He’s a wonderful guy, and for some unknown reason, he’s investing his time in me. It isn’t like I haven’t warned him. I told him to walk awa
