Expecting the Billionaire's Baby (Texas Cattleman's Club: Blackmail 4)

of thing that should be done in the semidarkness of her bedroom.

Deacon didn’t seem to care where they were. His tongue flicked across her flesh again before he began stroking her sensitive center with abandon. There was nothing Cecelia could do to stop the roller coaster she found herself on. She gripped the blanket tightly in her fists, hoping it was strong enough to hold her to the earth.

Deacon was relentless. His fingers and his tongue stroked, probed, teased and tortured her until her breath was passing through her lips in strangled sobs. Her whole body was tense from the buildup inside her. She tried to hold back, to prolong the feeling as long as she could, but she couldn’t. He stroked hard and slipped a finger inside her at the perfect moment, and she came undone. Deacon held her hips, tightly gripping them to continue his pleasurable assault even as she writhed and trembled beneath him.

“Please,” she gasped at last when she couldn’t take any more. “I can’t.”

Only then did he pull away, allowing her to finally relax into the blanket. She closed her eyes and reveled in the way her body felt fluid, almost boneless, as she lay there. Her climax had seemingly stripped her of the capacity to move. The sun was warm on her bare skin, heating the outside of her even as her insides were near the boiling point.

She was barely cognizant of Deacon hovering near her, and she pried open her eyes. He was propped on his elbow, looking down at her with mild concern.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“I’ll be better when you’re inside me,” she replied, her voice a hoarse whisper after her earlier shouts.

“I thought you might need a minute.” Deacon grinned.

“All I need is you,” Cecelia said, and she’d never meant words more in her life. He was all she wanted. In her bed, in her life, in her heart.

“If you say so.”

Cecelia shifted her hips and pulled her dress out of the way so he could position himself between her thighs. He fumbled with his pants for a moment, and then she got what she wanted. He filled her hard and fast, freezing in place once he was as deep as he could go.

She watched as he closed his eyes and gritted his teeth, savoring the feeling of being inside her.

“Do you know,” Deacon began without moving an inch, “you feel exactly the same way you did when you were seventeen? It takes damn near everything I have not to spill into you right now, you’re so tight.”

Instead of responding, she drew her knees up to cradle his hips and tightened her muscles around him.

“Damn,” he groaned and made an almost pained expression as he fought to keep control.

She didn’t care. He’d certainly shown no mercy when she was resisting her release, and she wasn’t about to, either. She lifted her hips, allowing him in a fraction of an inch farther.

He blew air hard through his nose and shook his head in defiance. “Not yet, Cecelia. Not yet. When I go, you’re coming with me.” Deacon bent down and pressed his lips against hers. She wrapped her arms around his neck and held him tight enough that her breasts flattened against the starched cotton of his green button-down shirt.

His tongue slipped over her bottom lip and into her mouth. Slowly, he stroked her tongue with his own. Cecelia expected him to mirror the rhythm with his hips, but he was frustratingly still from the waist down.

Unable to take any more of his slow torture, she pulled away from his kiss, leaving only the tiniest fraction of an inch between his lips and hers. “If you want me, Deacon, take me. I’m yours. I always have been.”

That was as close to “I love you” as she was willing to go. At least for now. It was early to confess her feelings, and if he took the news poorly, she’d be stranded in a foreign country. No, that was a revelation best left to her hometown. He’d be more likely to believe her there as opposed to it being some kind of vacation-fling confession. Hell, she’d be more likely to believe herself there, too.

Her words had the intended reaction. Deacon buried his face in the small of her neck, planted a kiss just below her ear, then began to move inside her. It was slow and sweet at first, but before long, he was thrusting hard. The small break they’d taken allowed him to continue on, but she could tell by the tense muscles of his neck and the pinched expression on his face that it wouldn’t be long.

She wouldn’t be long, either. Despite just recovering from her orgasm only minutes earlier, she could feel another release building. She clutched Deacon’s broad back and lifted her hips for the greatest impact. That was enough to make both of them groan with renewed pleasure.

“Yes, please, Deacon,” she whispered into the summer breeze.

He didn’t need the encouragement to act. Deacon reached between them and stroked her center as he continued to thrust into her. His fingers quickly brought her to the edge, making her scream.

Cecelia quickly buried her face in his shoulder to smother the cries before they drew someone’s attention. Yet there was no way to smother the sensations running through her body. An intense wave of pleasure pulsated through every inch of her, curling her toes and making her fingertips tingle. Her heart tightened in her chest, reminding her just how different it was to make love instead of just having sex. It had been so long that she forgot there was a difference.

Her flutter of release sent Deacon over the edge. With a roar, he spilled himself into her and collapsed, pressing her into the blanket.

Cecelia held him against her bare bosom as their breathing returned to normal and their heart rates slowed together. As she held him, she looked up at the brilliant blue sky and wished this moment could last forever.

Unfortunately, the time together in France was coming to an end. It was time to fly back to Royal, debut The Bellamy and face the music.

Ten