Page 55 of Deacon

In one quick movement, I undo the button and tug down his zipper. The tension releases as the front of his boxer-briefs stretch to accommodate what’s underneath. My fingers falter.

“Don’t stop,” he says.

I glance up at him, and a rush moves up my spine. I’m soaked between my legs, my heart thumping at the base of my throat. He’s on the verge of panting, and I haven’t even touched him where he’s most sensitive.

My fingers curl on his waistband. He inhales sharply. I tug it down and he snaps free, hitting against his hard, lower abdominals.

I let the band go and cover my mouth with both hands.

He’s big and fully hard. The hair over his tattooed groin is cut short, neatly kept. That’s something I’m realizing about Deacon. He might look rough, but he’s meticulous, his house in order. Even when he sweats, it smells good, like clean salt.

The house is completely silent. I know his blood is going hard; I see it in the thick vein running up his heavy length. I have to touch him. Lips parted, I trace the underside, and he twitches.

His head goes back. “Fuck,” he breathes.

He’s strong, like a bull. But when I wrap my hand around his cock, I swear, his knees buckle just a bit. Before I can let my nerves get the best of me, I slip from the counter, drop to my knees, and take the head of his cock into my mouth.

I don’t know how to do this, but I have a pretty good idea I can figure it out.

He groans, his thighs stiffening. My eyes flutter shut as his hard, hot length slides between my lips. Salt and clean skin fills my senses. He’s leaking into my mouth, and it’s good—so good, I suck to get more.

His palm slides against the back of my head. Not holding me in, just cradling me. Like I mean something to him.

His gentleness brings down my walls faster than anything else. My jaw aches a little as I push down. I’m halfway, and there’s nowhere else for him to go.

Wriggling my tongue beneath him, I work it against the vein and the little lip beneath the head. A harsh moan sounds from up above. More salt spills out, slipping down my throat.

My head is empty for the first time in my life. There’s no danger. My body isn’t tensed to react. He strokes my nape, gripping it. I moan around him.

“Goddamn it, girl,” he rasps.

Out of nowhere, he’s pulling me off his dick by the scruff of the neck. He picks me up, and the living room falls away below us as he carries me upstairs.

His dark room is lit by the fireplace. Through the window, black and gray clouds writhe in the sky, stretching for miles around Ryder Ranch.

Then, he’s got me in his bed. His fingers undo my clothes, leaving me naked on my back.

He sits up on his knees and pulls his shirt free. My heart beats in my mouth that still tastes like him. His pants come down, revealing more tattooed skin. Then, he’s naked, his body like a solid wall of warm muscle and ink.

In my desperation, aided by the little buzz in my head, I sit up and push him until he falls onto his back, stretched out, taking up so much of his bed.

Hungry, I clamber up his body and straddle him. His cock is pressed beneath us. His heartbeat pulses through it. His rough chest burns beneath my palms.

We pause, gasping. I don't know where I got the courage to get on top.

He makes me wild. Fearless.

His hand grips the back of my neck, pulling me down. I lean in, and he kisses me the way he did under the northern lights.

I come alive. Everything prickles with magic.

Deep inside, my body tells me to be careful. He’s like a wild animal, hiding in his beautiful house with nobody to fill it. Winter is coming fast, and he’ll spend it alone, his nights surrounded by starlight in his shadowy room.

Unless he intends to spend it with me.

Deacon breaks away, bringing me back down to Earth with a thump. His dark eyes, up close, aren’t frightening. They’re beautiful, warm pools I want to dive into. I touch his face, relishing the rasp of his beard, and kiss his mouth. Slowly, I let the tip of my tongue touch his lips.

He follows my mouth with his as I pull back.

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