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“I want to be back inside your hot, tight ass more than anything, but you’re the one insisting on being a good employee.”
His frustrated huff was adorable, and I bit the inside of my cheek so I would not smile even as he pouted.
“We’ll go home right after this, and I’ll fuck you on your bed until you’re hoarse from screaming my name.”
He trembled hard. “Promise?”
“Cross my heart.”
He let me go and held his hands up so I could turn the shirt the right way out. I eased it down over his head, thinking maybe undoing all the buttons would have been better, but I adjusted it, tugging and pulling, until it was right, the collar on the outside again.
“God help you if I don’t get attacked when we get home,” he said belligerently, gruffly, wheeling around with only one side of his shirt in, not caring in the least.
“Wait, wait,” I said, chuckling, hand on the door, not letting him out. I leaned over him and fixed his shirt, doing the tucking he didn’t seem capable of finishing, and kissing the side of his neck at the same time.
“Just one more bite,” he begged me, wiggling in my arms. “Please, Deacon. Pretty please?”
He had no idea what kind of temptation he was. “We’ll never get out of this room if I keep kissing and biting you.”
“Yes, but if you hold me right there, beside the door, where no one can see me, I’ll put my legs around you and you could—Deacon. It wouldn’t take long.”
Having my mate addicted to me was in no way a bad thing. “I had one packet of lubricant in my pants. I don’t have any––”
“It’s okay, use spit, I’m ready for—Deacon!”
I dropped to my knees, got his pants and briefs down, and sucked him off rough, quick, and filthy, all tongue and teeth. I wasn’t as careful as I had been the first time, and his fingers tangled in my hair and then fisted tight as he thrust, not worried about my throat, only how hard he was being sucked off.
When I pressed inside him, enough of my cum and the lube still there to allow the shallow breach, he came down the back of my throat, screaming my name.
I drank him dry, and when I let his flaccid dick slip from between my lips, he surprised me and fell to his knees, hands around my neck to hold me still so he could kiss me. He didn’t stop until I pulled back for air.
“Honey, you’re––”
“I feel so good, and you’re amazing and giving and… Oh, Deacon, I love you so much.”
I grinned at him, and he traced over my bottom lip with his thumb.
“Let’s drive home and go to bed and I’ll ride you over and over and over,” he whispered, and the tears were not a surprise.
“All this is the sex talking,” I assured him.
“No, it’s me telling you I love you. It happened the first time I saw you and––”
“That’s lust, honey, not––”
“It’s love, you stupid, stupid man,” he yelled at me, tears falling steadily now. “I love you, Deacon. Always.”
Fuck.
He’d saved my life. Twice. He’d forgiven me for thinking for him, for not consulting him, for putting him through the emotional wringer for a year, and he was smart and funny and he wanted to be in bed with me and live with me and protect me from my demons.
“Fuck.” I said it out loud that time.
He laughed into the side of my neck. “You’re the worst.”
“Yes, but you love me.”
“I do.” He sighed. “Madly. Absolutely crazy in love with you.”
