Page 35 of Deacon

He’s undoing his belt, and it clinks at his hips. I catch my breath, biting my lip. The hiss of his zipper cuts the darkness. He lets out a harsh breath, like it’s a relief to let the monster in his pants out of its cage.

My pussy throbs. Do I ache for pain, to be punished for what I’m about to do?

My hands come up and grip his shoulders. His skin burns hot through his shirt. Our eyes meet, and he leans in, brushing his mouth against mine, nuzzling me with his crooked nose.

My head falls to the side. Through my hazy vision, I see the waves of pink and green around us like a dream.

I think, even if we never do this again, I’ll remember this forever.

His arm shifts. Rough, hard fingers graze my bare pussy. A whimper slips free as my hips lift from the bed. I can’t control it, this lust. It burns and burns.

“You’re soaked,” he groans.

That’s the final piece of permission I need to give in completely. He pushes, and I feel him, enormous, as the head of his cock forces itself into my pussy.

At least, it tries to, but he meets resistance right away. We both gasp. He’s notched just inside, stretching me until it burns. My thighs twitch. My nails rake at his shirt. I’m not sure if I want to cry or come.

Slowly, I become aware of something I didn’t expect. Something hard, warm, smooth.

“What is that?” I gasp.

He glances down. “It’s pierced.”

Confused, I stare. The corner of his mouth twitches.

“Lost a bet, pierced my dick,” he says. “You don’t like it?”

I’m so turned on, I don’t care about anything but getting him inside me. Frantically, I shake my head. Then nod. “Just put it in.”

His hand goes down to where the final button of my shirt is fastened and releases it. A bare palm drags across my stomach and grips my hip, stroking me like he’s trying to get me to ease up.

“Relax and I will,” he says. “Open up for me, sweetheart.”

His voice, deep and hoarse, sends another surge of lust through me. The muscles in my lower body loosen a little—enough that he slips in another inch.

Hard, thick—God, oh God.

It’s stretching me where I’m so sensitive. The clawing desire deep inside me purrs as he fills me. I’m shattering into a thousand pieces,and yet, he’s at the center, holding me together. Our eyes connect. Sweat drags down his jaw in the dark.

I love this forcefulness. It’s violent, but somehow, it’s not violent at all. I can just taste what he’s capable of on the edge of my tongue.

And I want more.

“Please,” I burst out.

His mouth meets mine. It’s as good as it was the first time. Warm, real, rough. Visceral in the way I’ve always thought sex should be. My hips rise, he pushes back.

“Sweetheart, you’re fucking tight. We’re going slow,” he says.

“I don’t care,” I gasp.

I’m not sure of that, but I’m so desperate, I can deal with the consequences as they come. He laughs softly and shifts his body, bracing his weight on his knees. Then, in one, even stroke, he pushes himself all the way in.

Stars pop behind my eyes. I arch up into him and my claws come out. They tear down his arms. There’s a split second of pain. Then, it ebbs to a throb, replaced by pleasure that makes me want to writhe.

Instead, I keep perfectly still. He twitches—God, that feels good.

He’s heavy—I didn’t expect that. He shifts his hips and his cock moves. Soft tingles of warmth spread through my belly. My eyes flutter shut, and I release all the air in my lungs.

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