Caged

by Lorelei James

  He pushed the thick digit into her pussy. “You’re wet.”

  “Because I’m ready for you to fuck me,” she panted.

  “Not yet.” Deacon pumped one finger in and out and added another. “Tell me where you want my first mark.”

  Molly let her head fall to the side, exposing her neck. “Wherever you want.”

  His approval reverberated across her skin as he latched on to the spot that made her mindless.

  “Deacon.”

  “Come around my fingers.”

  “Harder.”

  “Where?”

  She swallowed, wetting her dry mouth. “On my neck. Suck harder.”

  As the suction increased and he plunged his fingers deeper into her pussy, her brain started chanting, almost, almost, almost. Then Deacon pinched her nipple and she was done.

  She didn’t utter a peep as the orgasm crashed through her. Her pussy throbbed; her nipple stung. Her brain tried to slow time so she could feel every single pulse in her body. She’d reached number fourteen when everything went hazy.

  “Babe. Gotta remember to breathe.”

  Molly sucked in a lungful of air.

  “Better?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  He gently pulled his fingers out of her. “Don’t. Move.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “To get a condom.” He took a box out of his suitcase and tossed it on the nightstand.

  Molly squinted at the box. Had it been opened? Was that a jumbo-sized pack? When she looked back at him, she wondered why he was pulling a condom out of his wallet.

  Deacon maintained eye contact when he said, “One time ain’t gonna be enough. I don’t want to have to go far before I have you again.”

  She’d never felt more wanted. Need pulsed through her body.

  He ripped the packet open with his teeth and rolled the condom down his length. Then his mouth was on hers, his kiss electrifying her until her lungs were saturated with his scent and her mouth was steeped in the potent taste of him. He continued nuzzling her after he broke the kiss. “Get on the bed.”

  Molly scooted to the middle, and Deacon was immediately on her, his hips against hers as he positioned himself above her.

  He balanced on one hand and reached between their bodies to align his cock. He didn’t kiss her as he pushed inside. His focus remained on her face.

  Once he was fully seated, he stopped.

  Feeling ornery, she drawled, “Darlin’, you lookin’ for permission to keep goin’?”

  A devilish glint entered his eyes as he withdrew completely.

  He waited, poised in a push-up position, his breath close enough to tease her lips but his mouth not close enough to kiss.

  The blunt head of his cock rested at her entrance. “Deacon.”

  “Tell me what you want.”

  “Fuck me.”

  He tormented her, giving her his cock a little at a time. Leisurely pulling out. Holding back the hard, deep thrusts.

  Molly squeezed his ass. “You proved your point.”

  “Which was what?”

  “You’re a sadist.”

  Deacon lightly bit her earlobe. “Babe. A sadist would stop right now.”

  “No. Please, don’t.” The slow and steady pace was making her squirmy. Making her pant. Making her beg.

  “Then it’s a good thing I’m not a true sadist.” He slammed into her with enough force she slid up the mattress.

  “Yes.”

  On the next dozen strokes she arched up and bore down with her pussy muscles.

  Then she shifted her hips side to side to get some connection on her clit.

  “Stop trying to get off.”

  “Stop trying to keep me from getting off,” she retorted.

  Deacon reverted to a slow and steady rhythm. But this time he gave her toe-curling kisses as he tortured her.

  Molly’s hands skated across his shoulders. His powerful muscles bunched and flexed as he moved. Seeing the sheen of sweat on his forehead, she realized she’d never touched the shiny, hard skin on his head. And she wanted to. Bad.

  He stopped moving. “What?”

  “Can I put my hands on your head?”

  “Yeah. But you don’t have to ask.”

  “Well, I wasn’t sure if you liked it.”

  Deacon put his mouth next to her ear. “I fucking love it. And you’ll love how it feels between your thighs when I fuck you with my mouth.”

  Imagining his mouth licking, and sucking, and, god, biting the tender flesh there sent a delicious shiver through her, and she moaned.

  “Molly.”

  She refocused on him—sort of hard not to with him being right in her face and all. “What?”

  “Are you trying to make me stop fucking you?”

  “No! Why would you ask that?”

  “Because of that sexy noise you made when you thought about me goin’ down on you. Jesus. I’m tempted to stop fucking you and start eating your pussy.”

  Her face heated. Dammit. The man was naked on top of her, his dick stuffed inside her, and she still blushed when he said something dirty. Annoyed with herself, and him, she slapped his ass. “No pussy eating yet. Get moving.”

  “Christ. This is not how I imagined the first time we fucked.”

  “Disappointed?”

  “Just that we waited this long. You feel so damn good.”

  “So do you.” Molly slid her hands up the back of his neck, letting her fingers follow the contours of his skull before she stroked her palms over the smooth skin.

  Deacon groaned and turned in to her touch, wanting more.

  Speaking of sexy noises, she could get used to hearing Deacon’s grunts and moans as she learned what he liked.

  Time seemed to stand still as they moved together. Kissing. Tasting. Touching. Until their bodies were slick with sweat.

  “Deacon,” she murmured against his throat. “I need—”

  “I gotcha, babe.” He lifted up to push her legs farther apart with the heels of his hands and moved back over her without missing a single stroke.

  Every upstroke put direct friction on her clit.

  She clung to him, holding herself rigid as she waited for the hot tingle that unleashed her pleasure.

  “Relax,” he panted in her ear. “Don’t force it.”

  “But I’ve always been responsible for my own orgasms.”

  “Not anymore. Now they’re mine.”

  Deacon’s soft, teasing kisses were in opposition to the hard-driving snaps of his hips.

  When he changed the rhythm, she arched up, hanging on to him as her orgasm blasted through her. Her brain fragmented. She floated on a cloud of bliss until she realized the low rumble in her ear was his voice and he was trying to rouse her.

  “Fuck, woman. You are the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.”

  She peeked at him from beneath slumberous lashes. “How long was I out after you fucked me into a coma?”

  “No more than a minute.” The pride in his voice was unmistakable.

  She shifted her body and realized his cock was still hard inside her. “Tell me what will get you there.”

  “This.” He braced his hands beside her head and drove into her with short strokes, his eyes dark with primal lust as he watched her tits bounce. His head fell back and he came in silence, except for the shallow exhalations as if he’d gone a few rounds in the training room.

  Molly stroked his scalp, loving the way he twisted his neck and angled his head so she touched him everywhere.

  After Deacon caught his breath, he rested his forehead to hers. “You’re beautiful and you just rocked my fucking world. I never want to move from right here. But I’ve gotta be squishing you.” He watched her face as he pulled out. “You okay?”

  “Mmm-hmm.” She stretched her arms above her head.

  The bed jiggled as he scooted to the end.

  She rolled onto her side, her eyes glued to the round globes of his ass as he went to ditch the con
dom. For the shitty way the day started, it sure ended with a bang.

  It’s a slap in the face to your grandmother that a few hours after you bury her, you’re lost in lust. It’s disgusting how quickly you’ve forgotten your grief and sorrow as you pursue your own pleasure.

  Molly curled onto her other side, squeezing her eyes shut at the ugly reminder of what this day had been.

  The bed dipped. Deacon slipped his hand around her waist and pulled her body against his. “Don’t.”

  “Don’t what?” she snapped.

  “Don’t do this guilt trip.” His warm breath tickled the fine hair on the back of her neck. “Now, if you’d skipped your grandma’s funeral to bang me all afternoon, that’d be entirely different.”

  When had Deacon become so intuitive?

  He’s not. He’s trying to justify getting his rocks off.

  “So this wasn’t a ‘take her mind off her troubles’ mercy fuck?”

  Deacon had flipped her onto her back and straddled her hips, pinning her arms above her head before she could blink. “Don’t try to piss me off so I’ll leave you alone to wallow in guilt. Not happening, babe.”

  “Don’t use jujitsu on me, Yondan.”

  They stared at each other. Winning a stare down with him was impossible.

  Molly caved. “Fine. But I doubt I’ll be good company.”

  “I’m not looking to be entertained.” He touched the side of her face. “I’m taking care of you. That includes me bein’ a dick and calling you out on your misplaced guilt.”

  “Get off me.”

  He backed off.

  But as soon as her feet hit the floor, he said, “Where are you goin’?”

  “To make something to eat.” Without a robe nearby, she snatched Deacon’s dress shirt and put it on.

  His eyes flared with heat. “If that’s supposed to keep my hands off you, you oughta know it ain’t gonna work.”

  “I’m not trying to be provocative. I’m just borrowing it.”

  “Don’t matter. I still have the right to demand it back at any time.”

  • • •

  DEACON didn’t let her cook. He didn’t ask her what she wanted to eat. He settled her at the table with a glass of scotch and a lingering kiss.

  He’d slipped on a pair of athletic shorts, but his upper torso remained bare. She shamelessly studied the ripple of the muscles in his arms as he chopped cabbage, carrots, green onions, celery, broccoli, and peppers. It struck her in a fresh wave of lust that this man was simply breathtaking. A head as perfectly shaped as his shouldn’t have hair. His face was a beautifully masculine study in angles. High cheekbones, a square jaw, a broad forehead. The full lips beneath his narrow—and slightly bent—nose provided the only hint of softness in his face. His dark brown eyebrows were furrowed in concentration. His jaw was set. The tendons in his neck were rigid.

  Molly’s gaze moved down. The front side of his body wasn’t as heavily tattooed as his back. The tats were swirls of color instead of black and shades of gray, but the scrolls and images melded together to look seamless.

  She gulped a mouthful of scotch, hoping the alcohol would dampen her sudden need to trace every curve and line of his ink with her fingers and her mouth. She imagined being behind him, using her teeth across the slope of his shoulder while running her hands over the smooth pate of his shaved head. Then she’d nibble on the backs of his ears, sucking on his earlobe before she followed the outer rim with her tongue. She’d whisper dirty, raunchy things as she touched and teased him.

  “Stop making that noise,” he half growled, not looking up from the chicken he sautéed in sesame oil, soy sauce, and garlic.

  “What noise?”

  “The noise you make when I’m sucking on your neck right before you come.”

  “I can’t stop it. I can’t help it. You’re just so . . .”

  Deacon’s gaze snapped to hers. “So . . . what?”

  “Hot.”

  “Fuck.” A pause. “Gimme two minutes.”

  Ask him what happens in two minutes.

  But she knew.

  It might be the longest two minutes of her life.

  She closed her eyes and let her anticipation build. What would Deacon do to her first? She wanted burn marks on her neck from his razor stubble. She wanted purple love bites on her breasts, on her belly, on her ass. She wanted her lips swollen and chapped from kissing him. She wanted her pussy sore and all the muscles in her body aching from his total possession.

  “Molly, look at me.”

  She opened her eyes.

  Deacon stood by the sink, drying his hands with a tiny tea towel. “Get up on the table, hands behind you.”

  But the time he crossed the small space, his cock was tenting his shorts.

  She licked her lips.

  He reached down to the seat next to hers and came back up with the entire box of condoms.

  Did he take that box with him everywhere? “Been planning this?” she asked breathlessly.

  “Only since before I had you the first time.” After he’d suited up, he undid the buttons on his shirt she was wearing. “You ready for me?”

  “You mean wet?” She pushed up far enough to nip his stubbled jaw. “Yes. Seeing you half naked does things to me.”

  Deacon moved his hands up the center of her torso, stopping to palm and squeeze her breasts before he tugged the shirt off her shoulders and down her arms.

  When Molly tried to take it completely off, he said, “Leave it like that.”

  “But I can’t move my arms.”

  He smiled against her throat. “I know.” Then his hands were on her hips, pulling her forward. “Hard and fast, babe.”

  Like she’d say no to that.

  He guided his cock to her opening, his gaze engrossed on watching his length disappear into her.

  Molly felt every inch of him since her tissues were still swollen. It didn’t hurt, but she knew she’d understand the phrase “well fucked” before the night was over.

  As soon as Deacon anchored his hands to her hips, she braced herself.

  Two smooth glides in and out and then he hammered into her.

  The powerful thrusts shook her entire body, making her thighs and her breasts bounce. For a brief moment she was thankful Deacon’s eyes were on her bouncing boobs and not her jiggling thighs. But being on the receiving end of Deacon’s passion sent all