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“Yes.”
“But you’re nervous?” His eyes zero in on my mouth as I lick my lips.
“And excited.”
“I can work with that. New rule.” He grabs my legs and gives them a firm tug, dragging me forward so I’m practically reclined on the couch, my head propped against the armrest. “Touching is required, and I won’t stop unless you tell me to.”
A stunned nod is all I’m capable of, and as soon as he has my permission Deacon starts undoing my pants. “Has anyone ever touched you here?” He tugs them off my hips and traces his finger over my panties, right above the spot that aches the most.
“Once,” I whisper.
His blue eyes seem to narrow a fraction before they return to their heated intensity, and he pulls my jeans off all the way. “Has anyone ever tasted you before?” The finger moves back and forth between my legs, barely touching me, yet using enough friction to deepen the ache.
“No.” I try to shake my head, though it suddenly feels too heavy to move.
His finger stills, right on top of the spot that craves his touch the most. “May I?”
“Please.” Though my voice is barely audible, even I can hear the desire in it.
Deacon brings both his hands to my hips, hooking my panties under his fingers. With exaggerated slowness he slides them over my hips, down my thighs, and off my ankles. Then he props my right leg over the back of the couch, and guides my left leg to the floor.
He takes a moment to look at me, spread open for him, before stretching his hand to my pussy. Using just his index finger, he finds my seam. Dragging the digit through my folds, he spreads my arousal to my clit, circling it gently before dipping it back in my slit.
Over and over, he repeats the motion, sometimes soft, sometimes firm, seeming to study me as he explores. Then, without warning, he spreads me apart with both hands and dips his face between my legs.
The first flick of his tongue is swift. Gentle. And it has my hips lurching up of their own accord. “Liked that?” His eyes find mine, staring up the length of my body.
“I think so,” I pant.
“Let’s see what else you like.” He does it again, firmer. Slower. Using the flat of his tongue instead of just the tip. This time my hips seem to sink into the couch, and a contented moan rumbles up my throat.
I catch a satisfied smile on his face before he leans forward again, this time swirling his tongue around my sensitive bud. “Oh my God,” I cry as his hands clamp down on my hips, holding me in place. Then he sucks it into his mouth, and my body turns to jelly.
“Seems it doesn’t matter how I use my tongue, as long as it’s working your pretty little clit you like it.”
“Yes.” My voice is breathless as my lungs strain for air.
“Then you just relax and let me taste my fill. Try not to buck me off, but when you can’t take it anymore let those hips loose and fuck my face.” He shoots me a sexy little wink and dives back between my legs, and my eyes roll back into my head.
Fast. Slow. Hard. Soft. Deacon uses his mouth to worship my pussy, teasing and licking and sucking my needy clit. At one point I swear he even kisses it chastely before pulling it back in his mouth and slurping like he’s trying to reach the last of the soda with a straw. Then he wraps my legs over his back so his head is trapped between my thighs, and starts all over.
My body feels like it’s soaring, then falling, then floating, a torrent of sensations that morphs from one to the other each time he changes the rhythm of his tongue. And I do my best to hold still, I really do, until he dips a finger inside me and pulls almost ruthlessly on my clit with his lips.Now I understand the whole not being able to take any more thing.
The hips he’d been holding in place suddenly start thrashing beneath him, chasing his mouth like it’s the key to their survival. I’m helpless to control them, helpless to do anything but surrender to the primal desire my body can tell is within reach.
And then it’s there, the precipice, and I’m falling over it, sultry cries bursting from my throat as I drive my pussy into Deacon’s mouth, wave after wave of euphoria pulsing through me like a freight train. My senses seem to falter, sight and sound fading to a muted blur as the bliss between my legs consumes me before my body seems to shut down altogether.
I can do little more than lie still and breathe as the pleasure starts to fade, replaced with a hazy satisfaction. A sense of contentment like no other. Then the face that stars in all my fantasies is suddenly hovering over me, and in my lust-drugged state, I’d almost say he looks astonished.
Deacon considers me briefly before leaning forward to press his mouth to mine, and I catch a hint ofmelingering on his lips. Then he pulls back and studies me again.
“What?” I croak under his intense gaze.
“That was the single hottest thing I’ve ever seen in my life.” He fingers a strand of my hair, still looking somewhat bewildered.
My brain is too muddled to form words, but I manage to snort in response.
“I’m serious, Tiff.” He shifts his gaze from me to the hair he’s holding between his fingers “You didn’t hold back, and nothing is as sexy as a woman who opens up completely.” He pushes off me to sit up. “And you just might ruin me.”
