Page 41 of Deacon

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs.

I believe him—I’ve never seen anybody say so much with just his eyes. He releases my wrists and wraps his hands around my waist, thumbs brushing the undersides of my breasts. I feel so small in Deacon’s lap. He’s a behemoth of a man, his hands almost touching at my spine.

“Ride me,” he rasps.

I shift my hips, and the final inch pushes in. My body fights him. I’ve never felt this full. The veins, the ridges, the heat—it takes over my senses, until all I feel is where our bodies join.

My hips move, guided by his hands. I take him even though it aches because I’m starving. I’m so starved for something I’ve only fantasized about—a man who touches without harming.

He looks at me like I’m the most beautiful thing he’s ever laid eyes on. I’ve never been worshiped like this, with this perfect mix of hunger and gentleness.

I didn’t expect this from him. Shy, my hips stutter, and I close my eyes.

“No, no, sweetheart, you look at me,” he says.

Face hot, I obey. He keeps moving my hips, back and forth with little strokes. My pussy is soaked—I can hear it between us. He’s so deep inside me, I know when he pulls out, I’ll feel him for days. Slowly, I pick up the rhythm. He lets one hip go and puts his fingers between our bodies. His touch finds my clit and circles it.

Oh God, I’m going to come.

It hits me so fast, I can’t do anything but gasp. He presses his thumb against my clit, triumphant. I’m flushed, pleasure pumping through me in slow strokes. There’s something so good about coming with him inside my pussy. It scratches an itch deep inside and it goes for so much longer.

I glance away, overwhelmed.

“You look me in the eyes when you’re on my cock,” he says.

He’s demanding, but his voice is so low and rough, it doesn’t intimidate me. Burning up, I shake, defeated, on top of him. It moves through me in waves, far more intense than what I felt last night. Finally, it ebbs, and I’m limp, barely able to sit up.

“Fuck,” he murmurs. “That’s my girl.”

I’m not his anything, but there’s no time to protest, because he pulls me off him and flips me back into the position he fucked me in last night: on my knees, ass up, with my cheek against the bed. With one inked hand, he grips the headboard. With the other, he holds my hips and pushes back inside.

“God, that’s a tight little pussy,” he groans.

He’s so filthy. It’s a good thing I can bury my burning face in the bed. Bracing me in his grip, he ruts hard, like he did last night. His pierced cock hits up against my cervix, making my toes curl. It turns out, I like a little pain.

I’m dripping down my thigh.

He speeds up, panting, and I feel like I’m going to shatter for a second. Then, he pushes in and shudders. It goes on longer than last night, like it’s better. His body goes still as he thrusts one last time and pulls out.

I stay where I am. I can feel his eyes on my sex.

He clears his throat. “Do you need a morning after pill?”

Taken aback, I slip onto my belly and roll to my side to face him. He’s got sweat etching down his neck. There’s creamy arousal and cum smeared on his cock. I can’t tell if it disgusts or turns me on. All I know is I did that, I met this man yesterday, and now he’s covered with what we did together.

Now, there could be consequences.

Mentally, I start calculating my cycle with my heart pounding in my ears like a drum. I’m four days out from my period. I ovulated two weeks ago, so there shouldn’t be much of a chance of me getting pregnant.

I glance up, suddenly aware that I’m naked and I barely know this man. His eyes are alert, watching me. I tug the flannel sheet up over my breasts, holding it there.

“I’m due for my period in a few days,” I whisper.

He shakes his head, like he doesn’t understand.

“I track my cycle. I’m not fertile,” I say. “But I’ll take it if you want me to.”

It’s not foolproof, but I’ve been tracking my cycle carefully for the last couple of years. I’ve never had the money or access to the pill, so it was my only option.

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