“Take your shirt off.”
The demanding tone in his voice made me quiver. I lifted my T-shirt over my head but kept my bra on, mainly because it was the only article of clothing I had left.
Deacon lowered his head and gently kissed down the length of my stomach. If I’d thought his hands felt good, that was nothing compared to his mouth. The stubble on his chin was rough against my skin.
Then I felt his fingers at my opening. It was almost embarrassing how wet I was.
“Jesus Christ, Carys.”
“What?” I asked stupidly.
“You’re so wet. It’s beautiful.”
As soon as I felt his fingers pushing inside, my body clenched. It had been so long. My muscles were tight, and it actually burned a little. But within seconds, he was fingering me with ease. Then he added his thumb to the mix, circling and pressing on my clit, and I knew it wouldn’t be long before my body gave in to this.
I could hear the sound of my own wetness as he moved his fingers in and out, landing so deep each time he pushed in. He’d barely done it for a minute, and I could’ve come if I let myself.
Deacon’s eyes were on my face the entire time. He seemed fixated on watching me come undone.
He reached for my chest. I felt a nudge on my bra before his fingers fumbled around the material. “Front or back?”
After a brief thought that maybe he was asking how I wanted to take him, I realized he wanted to know where the opening of my bra was.
My nipples hardening, I unhooked it from the front and tossed it to the floor.
He pulled his fingers out of me suddenly, and my clit throbbed harder than before, longing for his return.
Deacon moved to hover over me, one leg on each side of my body. He was so much bigger than me, and I loved the feeling of being locked in under him. He lowered his mouth to my nipple. The sexiest groan escaped him when he took it into his mouth. His teeth nipped at my tender bud, and I grabbed the back of his head, pushing him into my breast as he sucked my nipple harder. My fingers raked through his silky, thick hair. I writhed beneath him as my body longed for more.
And then he gave it to me. He lowered his hand and pushed his fingers back inside of me, moving them in and out in a rhythm that complemented the way he sucked my breasts.
It nearly did me in when he mumbled over my skin, “Fuck me. You’re even wetter than before. Amazing.” Pausing, he looked up at me. “You’re amazing.”
Even in my lust-induced haze, I warned myself to take those words with a grain of salt, given the circumstances.
And now he was doing that circling thing with his thumb again, rubbing my arousal over my clit, which felt ready to explode. But if I thought that was the pinnacle, I was wrong. Because when he pulled his fingers out and stopped sucking my breasts, Deacon slid his head lower and lower until it was right between my legs. I hadn’t been sure he was going to go there. I’d REALLY hoped he would. And it seemed he was.
Oh God.
He spread my knees apart, and at the first touch of his tongue to my clit, I let out an unidentifiable sound—certainly not one I remembered making before. He groaned in response against my tender flesh.
“You taste so good, Carys. I’ve always wanted to fucking taste you.” His words vibrated through my core. Then he lapped at me faster, pressing his tongue harder against my clit.
It felt like my body was here, but my mind had been transported to some other realm. There was no more concern about how I looked, how wet I might have been. I was too far gone now, gripping Deacon’s head and guiding his movements as his tongue pushed all the way inside of me and he massaged my clit with the top of his jaw.
“That’s it. Grab my head. Show me what you like. Use me,” he muttered.
Use me.
I nearly came. Instead, I clenched hard and pulled his hair in an effort to prolong this, because I never wanted it to end.
His breathing and the sounds emanating from him continued to prove this wasn’t merely an act of kindness. He was losing it right along with me, and I wanted nothing more than to give him the same satisfaction he was giving me.
I gasped. Holy shit.
After a few minutes of hanging on for dear life, I panted, “I want to feel you inside of me, Deacon.”
I could hardly believe those words had escaped me. But I guess when you need something badly enough, you have no choice but to ask for it.