Page 81 of The Sweet Spot

“Ohmygod,” I scream, already overstimulated from my first orgasm.

He tongues me over and over, adding one thick finger, then another until I’m a quivering, needy mess, and thank God, I don’t know whose rooms are on either side of this one because there’s no way the walls can hide my screams.

I grind shamelessly against his face, my heels digging into his back, and my husband growls his approval against my pussy until I’m quivering and shattering again. Only this time, he doesn’t wait for my orgasm to stop before he puts a knee on the bed and notches his cock against my core. My mouth waters and opens, but no sound comes out as he fills me in one fast, deliciously hard thrust, stealing my breath from my body.

“That’s my greedy girl. You gonna show me how bad you want my cock?” He drops his body down over mine, giving me his weight the way I love, and presses his lips to mine, pushing his tongue into my mouth and forcing me to taste myself on him. It’s so damn hot.

His strong hands grip my hips and rolls us over so I’m on top. But in no way am I in control. Deacon sits up, bringing us chest to chest and wraps an arm around me, holding my head in his hand. He pulls my hair back and pushes his hips up, nice and slow. “Is this what you want, wife?” he taunts me, and fuck, it’s so hot.

He moves me like a rag doll. Dragging every inch of his decadent cock inside me.

Filling me until I feel like I can’t possibly take anymore.

I circle my arms around his neck and lift my hips, then slam them back down on him. Taking him even deeper. Pushing us both higher.” Deacon...” I gasp in warning. “I’m so close.”

“I’ve got you, baby,” he growls against my mouth, and my God, the way my body knows this man. His words are just as hot as his body.

He shifts and changes the angle just enough that I see stars.

“Deacon—” I call out as I shake.

He keeps up his slow pace. Brutally slow.

Dragging out every single second.

Wringing every ounce of pleasure from my body before he empties himself inside me in one final thrust. “My fucking wife.”

When I swing my legs off the bed a few hours later, Deacon’s arm wraps around my waist like a vice and drags me back to him, spooning me. “Where are you going?” he rasps in a sexy, sleepy voice.

“I have to get back to my room before anyone comes looking for me,” I whimper as his hand moves to my breast. “No more, Deacon. I can’t. You have to wait until tonight or I won’t be able to walk down the aisle.” I’m only half kidding. He made me come two more times in as many hours, and five is a new record for us.

He pulls the blanket up over us and buries his face in my hair. “I married you so I could wake up with you every day.”

“You married me because you needed a wife,” I tease and roll over in his arms and press my lips to his chin. “Now you have to marry me again in front of both our families in a few hours, and it takes this girl a lot of time to get ready, so you’re going to have to let go.”

He drags his eyes over my face. “Marrying you was the best thing I ever did, Brynn.”

“Well, if you want to do it again in a few hours, you’ve got to let me go.” This man is everything I never knew I needed. “Don’t forget this whole thing was your idea.”

“Yeah well, your parents like me now, and don’t think for one minute your dad getting to walk you down the aisle didn’t help get us out of the doghouse.” He takes my mouth in the most sinful kiss, and for one single hot second, I consider staying right here in this bed.

“I’ll see you in a few hours, Mr. Kane. I’ll be the one in white.” I pull away and commit this moment to my memory.

“Wait.” He sits up and pulls something out of the drawer in the nightstand. “Here. It’s just a little wedding present.”

It’s wrapped in white paper with a golden ribbon tied around it, and I’m pretty sure he wrapped it himself, judging by the looks of it.

“I didn’t get you anything.” I turn it over in my hands, guilt building that it didn’t even cross my mind.

“You already gave me my gift, Brynn. You’re here, standing in front of me.” He shrugs almost shyly. “Open it.”

“Okay,” I agree, kind of enjoying this less confident version of Deacon. I carefully untie the ribbon, making sure I don’t rip the paper yet. I want to take my time. This is the first gift Deacon’s ever given me. I slide my finger under the tape and pull away the paper, then look at the plain brown leather notebook in my hand and flip it over.

On the front is a monogram.

DKB.

Our monogram.

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