Page 23 of The Sweet Spot

She drags her tongue along my earlobe, then bites down before softening the sting with her tongue.

“Make me come,” she commands me, like a queen commanding a servant.

My fucking queen.

BRYNLEE

The stars light up the dark summer sky and reflect off the even darker water, bathing us both in a silvery, ethereal glow. I trail my fingers along Deacon’s strong shoulders as he drags the thick head of his cock through my core. Goosebumps break out over my heated skin as the cool water laps at us.

It’s all too much, and yet not nearly enough.

“Deacon . . .” I whisper with bated breath, desperate . . . needy.

For this . . . For him.

The gentle crashing of the waterfalls behind us works in unison with the shadow of the dock to keep us in darkness, hidden in our own world.

Deacon’s hand wraps around the back of my head, his thumb caressing my jaw as he stares at me. “You are so fucking pretty, Brynn.”

His words are growled against my skin as he slides himself through my sex.

Watching my every breath. Pushing in the tiniest bit before pulling out again.

Teasing me until I tug his hair, ready to scream.

But before I can find words, callused fingers grip my jaw, holding me still. His thumb presses against my lower lip before he covers my mouth with his. Firm lips own me as I surrender to him. Each wicked stroke of his tongue takes me higher until I’m teetering on the edge of lucidity, unsure how much more I can take. My body is strung tight like a bow ready to snap until he finally pushes his cock inside me—filling me to the point of pain, overwhelming my senses until I can’t focus on anything but this moment and this man—and I gasp. Agony and ecstasy fight for control while I feel like I’m being ripped in half in the most sinfully decadent way I’ve ever imagined.

“Deacon, oh God,” I cry out against his lips.

“Fuck... Brynn. Your pretty cunt is taking my cock like such a good girl.” He worships me with his mouth, whispering filthy words that stoke the already-building inferno within me.

With each achingly slow stroke of his cock, my muscles contract around him.

Stretching to take him deeper. Clawing to get closer.

And when he finally fills me completely, my body explodes. Every nerve catches fire. Lighting up like the sky on the Fourth of July.

I’m utterly consumed by him.

“Deacon? . . .”

His tongue slips down the length of my throat, sucking on my thrumming pulse. “Tell me how it feels, baby.”

His head dips back down to take my aching nipple in his mouth, and I gasp, “So fucking good.”

“Fuck, Brynlee.” He pulls out slowly, then sets a punishing rhythm with every hard snap of his hips. His big body dominates mine, all hard planes pressing decadently against soft curves in the most delicious ways.

I tighten my legs around his hips as the water sloshes between us, and I take everything he gives me.

Deacon’s foot slips, and he wraps both arms around me, moving us away from the dock.

Fucking me harder and harder.

Fanning the flames higher and higher until I’m completely overwhelmed.

Destroying me.

“So close,” I whisper as I drop my head to his neck and suck his salty, sweet skin.

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