Page 18 of Sweet Beloved

I laugh, shaking my head. His mouth moves up my arm, then he rises, and he’s behind me. All thoughts of anything but us, here in this room, melt away as he kisses my shoulder.

“You want to be a good girl for me tonight?” he murmurs, breath hot on my skin.

“Yes, daddy.” The words are a little breath, barely audible.

We’ve said those words thousands of times to each other before, and they never lose their meaning. My bare toes curl against the floor. My lids flicker as his mouth brushes the nape of my neck. He’s playing with my curls, rough fingers touching them absently. Heat stirs, like he flicked a lighter deep inside.

He strokes down the top of my spine, down to the strap of my slip under my dressing gown. I can’t help the way my spine unfurls as he flicks the silk aside. My head lolls to the side, exposing the bend of my neck. His lips brush it, his fingers sliding the shoulder of my dress down.

My breath hitches. He shifts the chair away from the mirror and circles to kneel in front of me.

Our eyes meet. God, I love those soft, dark eyes.

My heart thumps in my mouth. The rough palm of his hand cradles my calf as he lifts it and presses a kiss to the inside of my ankle. Oh my God, I’m about to melt. My toes curl, my fingers grip the edges of the chair. He looks up at me, kissing the curve of my foot where I’m most sensitive.

“Deacon,” I gasp.

“You don’t need to say anything, sweetheart,” he murmurs. “Just take your panties down and put those legs on my shoulders.”

My hands obediently go up my skirt and work my panties down around my ankles. He’s got me so well trained, it never occurs to me to disobey. He watches through heavy lidded eyes as I hitch up my skirt to reveal the thin chains of my chastity belt on my hips.

He grips my thighs and tugs me forward, making me prop myself up in the chair. My knees rest on his shoulders. His head dips between my thighs, and my eyes roll back as his hot tongue slides over my pussy, licking over the seam, dipping in to touch my clit.

“You’ve got such a pretty cunt, sweetheart,” he says. “I love how you tighten up when I lick it.”

I stroke the shadow of his hair. “Don’t be too loud,” I breathe.

He pauses to nip the inside of my thigh. Then, he goes right back to licking my clit, back and forth over the highest point. He’s still in his dusty gray t-shirt, collar eaten with sweat. I trace down the side of his jaw, over his tattoos. I love how firm and rough he is, how the muscles move under his warm skin.

He delves his tongue in deeper, breeching my pussy. My spine rises, and I shift so I can lean back against my vanity and spread my thighs wider. He says something I can’t hear into my pussy, but it sounds dirty as he pushes his tongue halfway inside me.

“Oh my God,” I gasp, spine arching.

His hand comes up, wrapping around my throat and pinning me against the vanity. A muscle flexes in his forearm under the ink. It’s that little detail that sends me over the edge. My stomach tightens. My legs lock around his head. My pussy clamps down on his tongue as I come hard, hot pleasure moving through my hips in a whirlwind.

It goes and goes, spilling out for him.

He drags his tongue from me when my legs finally ease up. His eyes are burning coal, heat simmering beneath the blackness. He picks me up, shredding the rest of my clothes onto the floor, and drops me onto the bed. The air whooshes from my lungs. He flips me onto my belly and pushes a pillow beneath my hips.

I’m loose, delirious. I don’t move until I hear the bedside drawer open, and something cold and wet hits my skin.

“Deacon, I didn’t—”

“Hush. I don’t care,” he says, voice thick. “I need you like this. Say yes.”

My lips tremble. “Yes, daddy.”

His zipper hisses, and he lets out a groan. His fingertips brush over my asshole, working lube into it. In the fractured mirrorinlaid in my headboard, I see a dozen different angles of him bent over me, knee braced on the bed. I called him a gentle, brutal beast once, and I hold to that. Big, gentle, and so, so hungry when it’s just us.

“Take it for me,” he whispers.

I feel the press of the head of his cock and wince at the slight burn. My hips are relaxed. We’ve done this so many times before that I know I can fit him, though there’s still a little bit of pain when his four piercings slip inside me.

We both take a beat to let me adjust. His fingertips trace down my spine. Then he pushes, just a little. The pleasure, so different than when I take him in my pussy, blossoms. It’s a sensation of fullness but more intense, almost more satisfying because my pussy is aching and dripping onto the sheets as he works himself in.

“More, please,” I gasp, my cheek against the bed.

He groans as he obliges, pressing in until his groin is against my ass. His fingers skim over the chastity belt briefly before sliding up my waist, ending in my hair. Grip tight, he pushes me deeper into the bed.

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