Page 44 of Deceive Me
His teasing tone didn’t match the serious set of his face. When she didn’t move, he reached past her and started the water. “You didn’t think you’d get away from me that easy, did you?”
She opened her mouth to argue, though she wasn’t sure how. A knock at the door cut her response off before it escaped.
“Otter?” King. “You got breakfast duty. Get a move on.”
Deacon stared down at her, a lazy grin on his face, but at least his mouth stayed shut. That was all she needed, her team knowing what a colossal mistake she’d made. Although that wasn’t what she’d been calling it last night after she’d climaxed…
“Be there in a minute,” she called, not moving from her position next to the shower. Deacon’s grin became a smirk.
She slapped his bare chest.
“You okay?” King yelled through the door. The handle started to turn.
Panic shot to a full boil in her belly. “I’m fine! Just fine.” Any other time she could’ve come up with a million explanations on the fly for the sound, but between the panic and Deacon’s silent laughter, she couldn’t think of a single thing.
Damn you, she mouthed at him.
Before she could turn, his mouth was on hers, stealing any angry words along with any actual thoughts she might’ve had in her brain. She dimly registered the silence from the bedroom, the doorknob no longer turning, before Deacon’s tongue slid between her lips and curled around hers.
What had she been arguing with him about?
Deacon lifted his head, and she stared up at him, her lips parted as if inviting him back inside. Would he take the invitation?
No. His hands on her waist turned her around to face the shower. “In, spitfire.” He crowded behind her, his big body forcing her into the shower stall. And Elliot let him, her brain too empty to argue, even when a firm swat landed on her ass. Normally she’d have made him eat his fist, but now…
God, she was such a girl.
The warm water hit her breasts, her belly, but it was nowhere near as warm as the heat of Deacon’s body behind her. That heat had seared her from the inside out last night. She’d never felt anything like it, doubted she ever would again. At least, not with anyone else. From the feel of Deacon’s erection nudging her spine, she might very well feel that heat this morning if she didn’t do something to avoid it.
Like the otter her team had named her, she closed her eyes to Deacon’s crowding body and ducked her head completely under the water.
A moan escaped as the hard spray beat against the top of her head. Or maybe that was from Deacon’s grip on her hips.
The water hid her, kept her emotions safe, if not her body. She tilted back until it rained down on her forehead, eyes closed to the force, the reality of Deacon surrounding her, his hands sliding around to cup her breasts. She turned her head away from his as he tucked it onto her shoulder. “Deacon…”
His warm breath hit her neck. “Tell me you don’t want it, Ell.” Rough fingertips gripped her nipples, hardened from the cool air and his touch. Her back arched instinctively. She let it speak for her—words were impossible when he touched her like this.
Deacon pinched and rolled and tugged, reducing her from a tough warrior to a quivering mass of jelly. Who knew breasts could have so much power over her? Men, yes, but women? She groaned as he rasped his palms across the hard nubs. When his touch disappeared, she cursed his absence.
Until he stepped in front of her, ducked his head beneath the spray, and sucked one tight tip into his hot mouth.
It felt so, so good, but it wasn’t the pleasure that gripped her as she looked down at him. No, it was the welling tenderness in her heart that froze her in place, her hands cupping his dark head to her body. Something in her melted at the sight of his firm lips working her breast, his closed eyes with the long, dark lashes lying against his cheeks. Beautiful. Strong. Some might say the two didn’t go together, but she knew they did. She might be a woman, but she had more strength than most men; men could have strength and still be beautiful, and Deacon was. She could see his daughter in his face, the traits he’d passed on to Sydney. She could see the subtle vulnerability, the passion that was sweeping over him. She could see emotion, where most people like them hid any trace of feelings. All of it was beautiful.
And mesmerizing. She didn’t want to let it go any more than she wanted him to let her go.
When she stepped back, the pull of Deacon’s mouth on her nipple sent a tingle of pain and pleasure through her core. She ignored it and urged him to his feet. Deacon growled at the loss, but he didn’t protest when she went to her knees.
The heavy cock between Deacon’s legs was already hard and throbbing. Elliot focused there, feeling her mouth water at the sight. She closed her mind to emotion and need and focused on the hunger to have him in her mouth. She’d never done this before. She wanted to. She needed to, if for no other reason than to protect herself.
A broad palm rested on her head. “Ell?”
She wished he wouldn’t call her that. Without responding she leaned in, mouth open, and capped his cock in wet warmth. Deacon grunted.
The angle was wrong. Taking him in hand, she tugged down, leading him back into her mouth. Deacon bent at the waist, and she heard the slap of his hand against the wall before the adjustment registered and she realized his cock was aimed directly into her mouth. When she tightened her lips and slid down his length, they both groaned.
“God, Ell. That’s it. Take me again.”
She slid back, then forward. His length was a hard presence between her lips, on her tongue. Even this part of him was strong, steel, and Deacon wielded it like a weapon when he was inside her. He proved he could do the same now as he began a slow rhythm of advance and retreat that would’ve made her weak in the knees if she wasn’t already on them. Careful not to push too far, he pleasured half his length with her mouth. His breathing quickened above her, cool blasts atop her head, telling her he was staring down at what she was doing. He watched, and it only made her want to please him more.
