Page 4 of Sweet Beloved

“What were you and Slate talking about?” I ask.

He sighs, standing and heading to the bathroom doorway. He’s unbuttoning his shirt as he goes, and it’s a bit distracting.

“Girl stuff,” he says.

“What?”

“Like dating and so on,” he says, tossing the shirt in the basket.

I sit up straighter. “Does he have a girlfriend?”

He gives me a look. “Not that I know of.”

I narrow my eyes. He’s deliberately not telling me, which I understand but don’t like. Deep down, I still worry about my boys. They’re good young men, but they can be wild cards. And the unrestrained blood in their veins, direct from their father, keeps me second guessing.

“Did…he do something?” I ask.

He shakes his head. “No, he was just asking about it—what I was like when I was his age in that specific area.”

“Oh no.”

He gives me a look. “Hey now, I was a virgin when I was seventeen. It wasn’t till later that all…the stuff happened. Anyway, I’m honest with him about this shit. Doesn’t do kids any good to lie to them, won’t prepare them for the world.”

I nod. Deacon is straightforward with everybody. Sometimes, that means I need to intervene and reassure my sons after he drops a hard truth on them. But he’s right. They do need to be tough, and his way of toughening them up is so much better than the cruelty I was raised on.

He strips off his belt. I drop my eyes.

We both pause as tension crackles. His head cocks.

“You want the whole deal tonight, sweetheart, or you want it nice and simple?” he says.

I really can’t go wrong here. With Deacon, nice and simple still makes me come so hard, I see stars popping on the ceiling. He’s all in or not at all.

“I don’t care,” I say, snuggling down under the covers. “I just want it.”

He unzips his pants. “You stay put while I get all the dirt off me.”

Sleepily, I listen to him shower. Then, he’s sliding under the covers with me, his big body easing over mine. My palms skim over the familiar patterns of his tattoos, slightly raised. He’s still hard-packed with muscle. Every inch of it is so familiar, so beloved.

He melds into me, kissing up my neck. My calves curl around his lower back. Our breaths catch as he slides in.

I’m anchored.

“Fuck, this pussy is good,” he murmurs, face still in my neck.

I smile, hand sliding up to the back of his head. He draws back, propping himself on his elbow. The bicep beside my head is mesmerizing, swirled with ink, tense with lean muscle. Euphoric, I turn and nip at it, eliciting that crooked smirk from him.

His hips pick up. My head tilts back, his warm skin against my cheek. His lashes flicker, and his hand comes up to pull the strap of my slip down, exposing my breast.

His head lowers, eyes looking up at me as he takes my nipple in his mouth. Deep inside me, his cock twitches. Pleasure tingles through my body like a shot of moonshine.

“Oh God,” I breathe.

He grazes my nipple with his teeth. “Beg for it, sweetheart.”

He’s got that look in his eyes, the distracted one, and I know all he can think about is drawing his hips out and railing themback in. Despite what he said earlier, I know he wants it hard and dirty. Heat flooding my hips, I push up against him and rock.

“Fuck me, daddy,” I gasp. “Make it rough.”

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