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The slight burst of clarity the burn of his entry brought me is fading as my brain is once again scrambled by pleasure from the way Deacon’s cock keeps bumping my prostate. It’s probably a good thing I don’t have sex all that often or I wouldn’t have any brain cells left.
Deacon lets out a soft laugh and I see his eyes are on me, glimmering with amusement. “You’re too smart as it is. You could do with some brain cells dying off.”
Fuck—I actually said that out loud? “That’s embarrassing,” I groan. “Didn’t mean to say that.”
“You don’t ever have to be embarrassed with me,” he says with a reassuring smile.
Jesus, how is he capable of switching into nice guy mode even when he has me folded over like a birthday card, with his cock buried deep inside me?
I move my hands from his hips to slide over his torso, feeling the muscles strain and pull underneath my fingers. I want to touch every inch of his skin, get to know his body, feel the way it moves as fucks me…but I have enough brain power left to know that’s not fair. Not after the deal I’ve made him agree to. So I reluctantly slide my hands down his back and settle on his ass, gripping firmly and urging him forward. Deeper.
“Fucking hell, you’re relentless,” he grunts. “Such a needy bottom.”
“For your cock,” I rasp out. “Definitely.”
“And my tongue apparently. In your ass, at least.” He says the words wryly, but I see a flicker of disappointment cross his features and I’m confused for a moment. And then my sex-addled brain supplies me with the answer and I’m left with a tide of guilt. The truth is, Iamneedy for Deacon’s kisses. Desperate for them, even. But I’m still too confused about that whole situation, I’m not about to open that door now. I doubt correcting him would be any comfort anyway. The result is the same.
I toss my head back with a loud groan as he hits my prostate again. “Fuck, Deacon…keep it up and I’m going to come.”
“No you’re not,” he growls, his bossy pants clearly back on. “You’re coming down my throat, we already decided.”
“Youdecided,” I correct him.
“You gave me the authority,” he quips back.
I let out another wild moan as he once again hits my prostate. Desperation is coursing through me now; there’s no way I can hold off this orgasm for much longer. “If you don’t want me to blow then stop fucking hitting my prostate,” I groan.
“Stop moaning like a whore when I do it and I’ll give you a break,” he says with a smirk.
The moan leaves my lips before I can help it, causing Deacon to laugh with obvious delight. The nice, sweet guy has officially retreated and the alpha is back. I’m getting whiplash.
“Deacon, please…” I gasp out. “Please, I need to come.”
“No.”
“I’m going to blow,” I groan, tossing my head back.
“No you won’t.”
I wish I had his confidence…
Deacon leans forward and starts speeding up his thrusts, pounding in hard, over and over. Fortunately, he’s not deliberately aiming for my prostate anymore, but I’m still fighting what I’m sure will be a losing battle to hold back my climax. It’s just too good; the feel of his thick cock filling me, hitting me deep in those hard, powerful strokes is just too fucking incredible. And I’m going to blow any second.
Then Deacon stops, his whole body tensing as he lets out a deep groan. His expression looks pained for a moment, and then it clears to reveal eyes clouded with lust and a lazy, satisfied smile.
His breathing still rapid, he wastes no time in dropping my legs back to the bed and then bending over me, taking my raging cock between his lips.
It takes barely ten seconds of his hot mouth on me before I’m arching off the bed and coming hard down his throat.
He straightens up, licking his lips and offering me a bright grin. “There we go. All of the above.”
“I don’t remember collapsing in a puddle of my cum,” I point out dryly.
He shrugs. “There were some necessary adjustments.”
CHAPTER19
DEACON
