Page 70 of Biker's Conquest: Property of Rage

We’ll most likely end up in the tub again tonight, but I have to do what I can to take the impatient edge off of waiting for my husband to get home.Mr. Hollingsworth.

I kneel ten minutes before Deacon commanded me to be ready for him. I have too much time to think on my knees like this. My heart races. What if he changes his mind? What if we can't have the excitement anymore? What if we lost our spark with each other?

Ten minutes is way too early for just kneeling on thefloor... But I don't want to leave my position and accidentally fall asleep. My desire for connection with Deacon is too strong and my obedience gives both of us exactly what we need. I can let my mind go and let this strong, gentle giant take complete control over me.

I hear his Toyota 4Runner in the driveway, purring gently when he finally arrives home. Goosebumps break out over every inch of my skin. Daddy's home. Deacon has always had an insane amount of patience and the amount of time we've spent away from his playroom doesn't change his behavior in the slightest. The front door to the house opens. Keys jingle together and then he rests them on the counter. (The hook is right there but he never remembers it). I imagine him taking his long-sleeved leather cut off and exposing the white-button down he wears underneath when he works late.

He looks so fucking hot when he rolls the sleeve up halfway up his forearm, exposing his tattoos. My heart beats more intensely as I listen to Deacon's footsteps moving with slow precision towards our bedroom. He opens the door and exhales slowly. I keep my gaze averted, even if it's pure torture. I can't see anything yet, but he turns on a small lamp with a warm yellow light. I can see his shadow across the floor.

It gets harder to breathe. A wet patch grows between my legs. Deacon stands in front of me. Black jeans and plain white socks. It's a small detail, but the absence of his shoes signals his impatience to me. Continuing to breathe slowly, he unbuckles his belt and exposes his cock. Deacon's dick nearly hits me in the face because that man is fully hard already. I haven't touched him or said a word to him but the thought of what we're about to do tonight already has the tip of his cock oozing with excitement.

His fingers sink into my hair ashe grabs the top of my head and establishes the firm grasp of my hair necessary for him to control my pace. He moves my head and his cock so the tip of his dick pushes past my lips. I only have an instant to adjust and Deacon doesn't have the patience of desire to take things slow with me anymore. He slides his cock as deep as he can with one stroke and my body jerks forward as the tip scrapes the back of my throat. I gag and let spit build up around his shaft so I can take him more easily while he fucks my mouth.

Tears prickle at the corners of my eyes as oxygen struggles to get through my nose. Just when I can't stand the lack of airflow, Deacon pulls his dick out of my mouth to allow a moment of reprieve before sliding all the way back in.

I lovehow Deacon’s cock feels sliding down my throat. I spread my lips wider and tilt my head back so more air can seep in through my nose and I can take him deeper, demonstrating my willingness to submit to his cock in hopes that he punishes me thoroughly in the playroom and we can keep our kinky connection alive.

“Fuck, your lips feel good,” Deacon whispers. He pulls his dick almost entirely out of my mouth, allowing the tip to continue oozing with desire for me as I stick my tongue out and feel the heat coming off the tip of his dick. I look up at him from my knees, watching Deacon’s desire for me bring all of his strong, masculine facial features into sharp control.

Our eye contact is too much for either of us to really resist. Deacon releases his grip on my hair and I have to silence my brief moment of internal disappointment. I have to trust his plan for me, trust the months of preparation that went into the new playroom he designed specifically for me.

“I love you,” Deacon whispers, withdrawing his dickcompletely, but giving me the verbal reassurance that we’re nowhere near done for the night.

“Stand,” he commands, leaving nothing for me to imagine or think about tonight. I get to experience either pain or pleasure at this man’s hands. We both share the desire to mix pain and pleasure together. I stand up, feeling petite next to Deacon, which is a rare feeling considering I’m a few inches taller than the average woman. Still, tiny compared to him.

His eyes never leave mine, even if his hardness tells me he must be tempted to take the rest of me in, if not fuck me right here on the bed. Or on the floor.

“Playroom,” he instructs, his hand wandering to my ass. I shiver as he gropes my ass cheek, half expecting him to hit me. Not yet. He’s not ready to unleash his kinky desires on my butt yet, but teasing is another part of his game. We walk towards the hidden door, behind a bookshelf again. This time, the entrance switch hides behind a hollowed out copy of “Dracula”. Deacon let me pick the book and he said it couldn’t be Heather Gay’s “Bad Mormon”, so I picked something more classic.

The scent of fresh paint lingers, but the perfume-saturated velvet overpowers the paint. Deacon pushes against my ass to get me into the playroom, but he doesn’t turn the light on until he shuts the door behind us and cuts us off from hearing anything outside the playroom.

“Don’t worry,” he whispers. “I’ve set an alarm to go off if John Henry wakes up.”

“Will we hear it?”

He pushes hair away from my neck and kisses the exposed spot softly. “Not your concern. I’m going to turn on the light and show you the exact spot I’m going to spank yourass every time you disobey me, turn me on, or just… whenever the mood strikes me.”

Deacon squeezes my ass cheek and my pussy dribbles involuntarily. I almost slam my hand behind me to reach for the light switch, but I force myself to show the slightest bit of patience, allowing Deacon to unveil his hard work to me at his own pace, even if it frustrates the hell out of me to wait so long after already waiting for what continues to feel like an eternity.

Deacon exercises his preference for dimly lit rooms and the black velvet only makes it harder to see. But my eyes are hungry for light and even hungrier for the detailed attention Deacon placed on construction here. He maintains his preference for bending me over a velvet platform to take me from behind and conduct various spanking-related experiments, but I can observe from my first glance that this platform is shaped specifically to my body, made perfectly for my height.

The floor is also soft, with a padded, velvet carpet that smells brand new. Deacon reaches around to grab my ass again and makes no effort to restrain his desire to touch me. His fingers slide between my lower lips, which are slippery enough that the pads of his fingertips brush against both my pussy and asshole.

Deacon leans forward to kiss my neck, his lips practically burning with heat. I can taste the emotion on his lips and feel just how much he’s restraining himself here.

“I want to spank your ass so hard,” he whispers. “But is it all different now? Am I screwed up for that?”

His hand lingers on my butt cheeks. Then he separates my cheeks and runs his thumb from my soaked pussy lips all the way to my asshole. I shiver, but don’t dare make a sound that risks dragging Deacon out of this moment. He can’tseriously expect me to think right now, especially not after this much time away from his rougher urges.

“If it’s too much, you need to use a safe word,” he says. “Something you would never say in bed…”

“Patrick Mahomes…”

“Just hearing his name gets me mad…”

Deacon hates the Chiefs and I hope teasing him with that name pushes him not to go easy on me.

“Platform,” Deacon commands. He’s urgent. Firm. Everything I need him to be right now. I leave the warmth of standing next to him and try not to race to the platform. I should savor this — my first time in our new playroom. The closer I get to the platform, the more my pussy drips with excitement. I want him to spank me hard. I want him to be relentless and brutal — prove his love by doing something that he could only do to me…

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