Page 37 of Deacon

CHAPTER EIGHT

DEACON

When I brought her home, I knew we would end up in my bed, deep down. I just thought I’d try to make it sweet. Soft, like a girl like Freya deserves. I didn’t expect her to want it rough.

She looks so good on her hands and knees. Her spine is arched. She’s naked, her skin glowing in the firelight. Her waist narrows down and her hips blossom out, her ass full and round. She’s the prettiest woman I’ve ever seen, much less touched.

My hand looks wrong on her waist. She’s better than I deserve, but I’m just fucked up enough to go through with this, from beginning to end.

She has me, hook, line, and sinker.

“Put your hand on the headboard,” I order.

She obeys. Her knuckles are white with tension. The angle arches her spine and spreads her ass, giving me the first view of her pussy in this position.

Goddamn, it’s perfect.

Soft, full, a dusky pink. I spit on my fingers and flip my hand facing down, pushing my middle finger inside to watch her stretch around it. The sound that comes out of her is…well, it’s been a long time in my imagination, and it’s even better in reality.

“Hold still,” I order.

She obeys, but her thighs tremble. Inside, she’s better than I imagined. And I imagined it a lot, all soft, tight, slick with arousal. I felt it on my dick, but it’s different exploring it with my finger.

This feels like pussy I won’t be able to give up.

Not that I mean to. No, I already got a room in my house waiting for her. This is just the first step in making her stay.

I move my fingers until I find that little swollen place inside and stroke it. She gasps, back arching hard. A glitter of wetness slips between my knuckles. I have to resist the urge to bend down and lick it.

I want to taste her so badly.

“Look at you,” I murmur, transfixed. “Look at that fucking pussy.”

She clenches down on me. My head goes blank, and I slip my fingers free and move up behind her ass. One hand goes into her hair, the other sliding between us to guide my cock to her soaked cunt. The head slips inside, piercings and all.

We both gasp, her louder than me. My eyes fall to where my cock meets her pussy. She’s fluttering, gripping me. Then, in one, even stroke, I force her to take every inch, all the way until I feel the resistance of her cervix, smooth against the tip of my cock.

“I can feel the…piercings,” she breathes.

I work my hips. “You like it?”

She nods hard, moaning. I slide my hand up, gripping her throat, and pull her back against my abdomen. In the fracture-inlaid mirrors across my headboard, her dusky pink nipples and full breasts are reflected a dozen times.

Slowly, I drag out and slam back in.

She cries out and her tits shake. My hips work, my cock stroking into her hot, velvety cunt.

She’d make a perfect submissive.

My mind flashes with that image. Freya, bound on her knees with her arms tucked behind her back, hair falling down her back, full mouth open, eyes big and fixed up at me. Dark ropes snaked around her curves, binding her until she’s fully helpless.

My brain buzzes.

Maybe it goes too blank.

She’s so beautiful in the darkness of my bedroom. Curvy, soft, too pretty for a man like me. I need her to stay this way forever. It’s been weeks of waiting. Now, I finally have her in my bed.

I’m falling hard. The ground is inviting.

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