by Sable Hunter
She didn’t rush, but she started her return path. He held his breath when she took his cock in hand, planting kisses from the base to the tip. His hips lifted involuntarily as she blazed the same trail with her tongue, delicate little licks from his balls to the wide crested head. “You’re so big,” she whispered, positioning her hand along his shaft, measuring his length from root to tip. “I love the way you feel.” Deacon groaned as she attempted to encircle him with one small hand. Gripping his girth with intermittent squeezes, she made him crazy, his breath hissing from his mouth. The honesty of her need caused desire to rip through him like a bolt of lightning. His cock jumped in her hand and she giggled. “You like that?”
“You. I like you.” He didn’t really understand why, but it mattered to him that she knew she was different–unique. His hips bucked as she fondled him. He groaned out her name. “Natasha, my Taz.” Damn, even her touch was different from anyone else. She caressed him like he was cherished, touched him as if he were breakable, milked him as if there were nothing she wanted more. With Taz everything was different–new. When he whispered her name, she lifted her eyes to his. She licked her lips and he knew he wanted to feel them wrapped around his cock more than he wanted the sun to come up the next morning. “Don’t play with me.”
“Oh, I think that’s exactly what you want me to do.” Giving him a shy smile, she settled between his legs and kissed the tip, opening her lips and letting them slide over the head, all with a blissful suction. Her eyes locked with his as she rubbed the sensitive end of his cock with the flat of her tongue.
“Son-of-a-bitch,” he growled, lifting his hips again, not bucking them as before. This time he held them aloft as if in supplication. She didn’t disappoint, tightly wrapping her lips around his thick stalk as he slid his considerable length up and down her hot little tongue. Unable to refrain, he twisted her hair around his hand, controlling how deep and how fast he fucked her mouth. And nothing he did seemed to be too much. He was mesmerized at the way she sucked on him, as if there was nothing in the world she enjoyed more. Ecstasy–he had no trouble recognizing it as he pumped in and out between her sweet lips.
Soon the pleasure stole his control. “I’m about to cum, let me…” He tried to pull out, but Taz tightened the velvet grip of her mouth and fist, convincing him to stay. There was nothing in the world like the feel of her hot little mouth burning a trail down his cock. She showed him no mercy. One hand pumped his cock from just below her lips all the way to the root and the other massaged his heavy aching balls. “You’re beautiful,” he muttered as he lifted a lock of that gorgeous red hair and held it against the side of her face as it bobbed up and down in his hands.
The compliment he gave made her smile and this made him laugh. Joy he hadn’t known in years cascaded over him like life-giving rain. To tease him, she winked and scraped him with her teeth and that was when he lost it. Going to a sitting position, he held her head as he moved in and out of her mouth–faster–deeper, always watching her face to make sure he didn’t give her more than she wanted. But there was no protest, she accepted all of him until he came hard, bathing the back of her throat with his hot cum. “What you do to me,” he admitted breathlessly.
Taz didn’t let him go, she urged him to stay in her mouth while she soothed him with gentle sucks and light swipes of her tongue, bringing him down a little at a time. He closed his eyes and just moved his hips softly, until the bliss became more than he could bear. When he finally drew back, she sent him away with one last kiss to his spent shaft. Deacon was in awe, he’d never been with anyone who displayed her sheer enjoyment of being with him so openly and honestly. “You go to my head, woman.”
“Ah, I hope you go to other places on me.”
Deacon chuckled, “Oh, I intend to.” Almost reverently, he pulled her even with him and began to caress her breasts, his fingers skimming their softness like butterfly wings. He’d seen larger, but none quite as perfect. Round and plump, they swelled at his touch, inviting him to stroke and squeeze. Taz whimpered and moaned, arching her back and pushing the firm flesh into his palm. To his delight, the more he played with her the harder her little nipples became. Giving one a flick, he swallowed her gasp, kissing her deeply.
“Do that again,” she whispered, when he moved his lips, taking her gasp as his own, So, he did–again and again. She writhed against him, demanding more and more. And he wanted nothing more than to give it to her. Taking her nipple between forefinger and thumb, he gave it a little pinch, then a harder one, milking it until she moaned and lifted her hips to nudge against his cock. God, he’d missed this. He had more fun playing in bed with Taz, than he ever had with anyone.
One more hard kiss and then he moved lower in the bed, replacing his hands on her breasts with his lips–sucking, licking, nibbling–loving them until she cried out, “please Deacon, I’m aching.”
Deacon smiled, now it would be her turn to feel the lightning. Pushing himself even lower in the bed, he pushed her legs apart. “Wide, please.” She obeyed, her skin growing warm. His beautiful woman was blushing all over. “You’re perfect.” Her pussy was as delicate as the rest of her beautiful body. Using both hands he framed the pad of her vagina and found the soft pink folds blossoming beneath his gaze. With a worshipful attitude, he placed a kiss on the small pulsing bud of her clit. She was such a paradox–so capable and brave, yet so undeniably feminine. He could go to the ends of the earth and find no woman more perfect for him than this…
“Deacon, I’m going apples…oranges…something,” she groaned.
“Bananas,” he supplied, before rewarding her with a lick that caused her to jump. By the second and third, she opening her legs wide like butterfly wings, whimpering with every touch and kiss.
“Deacon!” she cried when he covered her clit with his mouth and sucked. “Now, please, now!”
Soon. Soon. But not until he’d given her as much as she’d given him. Using lips, tongue and fingers, he stroked and rubbed with ever increasing intensity until she stiffened and gasped. The tension snapped and ecstasy surged through her in pulsing waves. “That’s my baby, that’s my baby.” Deacon slid up her body and held her close, cradling her through the aftershocks and tremors.
“Thank you,” she murmured. Taz didn’t know what was better–the orgasm or that he was holding her like she mattered. She prided herself on never feeling weak or needy, yet this man gave her both of those feelings in a way that made her desperately glad she was a woman. “Now, can we get to the good stuff?”
Her feisty little remark floored him, Deacon threw back his head and laughed uproariously. Damn, she was fun. “You didn’t enjoy that?”
“Oh, yes, very much,” she assured him. Framing his face, she kissed him right on the mouth. “But there’s part of me that feels empty and achy. You can make it better.”
“I think I’m up for that…”
“Come here.” She pulled him close, draping her left leg over his right thigh, lifting up to rub against him–pussy against cock, breasts nestled against his chest. She felt her nipples peak as they tangled in his chest hair. “Now, do me. Did I get that right?”
Deacon was kissing her neck and she could feel his smile against her skin. “Oh yea, the most accurately constructed phrase I’ve ever heard.” He slid his hand between them and guided his cock right where it belonged, snuggled into the warm well of her vagina. “Look at me,” he whispered when he noticed her eyes were closed.
Coming out of a cloud of euphoria, Taz followed his direction. “It feels so good,” she murmured, relishing how it felt to be so intimately connected to the man she desired above all things. Needing for him to feel the same way, she tightened herself around him. “Oh, God,” that felt even better.
“Fuck, Taz!” he moaned, his eyes crossing with the pleasure.
“Yes, I agree, fuck Taz!” She gave him a second helping, clenching her vagina on his cock.” Lifting herself up against him, she took him as deep as she could.
“Yes, ma’am.” Placing a hand on her hip, he steadied her. “Easy baby, I don’t have the best balance in the world.”
“Hold on to me. I’ll be your anchor.”
He held on–one hand on her hip, the other resting near her head, fingers tangled in her hair, his lips covering hers. His tongue thrust into her mouth to the same rhythm his cock pistoned into her pussy. She accepted everything he needed to give, her fingers massaging his neck, the nails of her other hand skating along the skin of his back. Over and over again, he buried himself deep, knowing her passion was winding tighter and tighter. When she went stiff–frozen–Deacon raised up just to see the wonder on her face.
“Deacon!”
Some moments are worthy to be pressed between the pages of your mind. He stilled–not wanting to miss a thing as she came around him. He absorbed every ripple, every quiver, every sweet contraction. If things were different…if the future could be salvaged from the ashes of the past–he’d never let her go. The elation of her orgasm sparked his and he felt the inevitable begin. His balls pulled up tight, an irresistible tingling erupted at the base of his spine. Blindly, feverishly, he pumped inside of her until, with a hoarse cry, he exploded. Breath heaving, cock jerking, his essence jetted deep within her–making them one.
* * *
Deacon drew the covers up over them. She was sound asleep, cuddling up to him like a kitten. He ran his hand down her side, reassessing his life. What she’d proven to him tonight blew everything he’d believed to be true right out of the water. This amazing woman had barged into his life and showed him that he wasn’t broken–he wasn’t half a man–he was as whole and worthy as anyone else. Deacon didn’t know what to do with this information. He’d built walls around himself as high as the cliffs that formed the foundation of his home.
Unable to stop himself, he rubbed his lips on the top of her head. As he did, a jagged raw pain stabbed him in the heart. She was small, she was soft. She was so damn smart and courageous. And she wanted to risk herself in a job where the average life expectancy of a person was literally cut in half. If she joined the Omega Team, she’d be called upon to go to dangerous places and do risky things that would threaten her life–over and over again. He knew he’d never be able to look himself in the mirror if he was the one responsible for placing her life on the line–no fuckin’ way.
Tomorrow he would have the opportunity to ask questions, delve into the reasons why she was so intent on jeopardizing herself for causes and a country not even hers by birth. And what nearly killed him was how bad she wanted it. And he didn’t really know why. Could she ever be satisfied living a normal life? He tried to stop the thought from formulating–because once he envisioned the possibility, the image would haunt him for the rest of his life. But he couldn’t stop it, he couldn’t prevent the absolute rightness of picturing her ten years in the future–laying right where she was now–with him.
Sleep was a long time coming, but when it did–he dreamed impossible dreams, dreams of a man, a woman, and a little girl with auburn hair and freckles on her cheeks.
CHAPTER FIVE
Taz burrowed down into the pillow trying to ignore the rays of the winter sun shining across her face from between the slits of the Venetian blinds. Opening one eye, she squinted, her mind sluggishly processing that she was in a bed other than her own.
Deacon!
She sat straight up in the bed. Everything they’d done came rushing back at her like a flooded river overflowing its banks. They’d had sex–wonderful, wild, amazing sex. And she’d slept in his arms, his pillow still bore the imprint of his head. Giving in to her impulse, she placed her face in the indention and inhaled. The man smelled like heaven.
Last night she’d been shocked to find out he’d been injured in the service, but even more devastated to find out he thought it could make one whit of difference in the way she saw him–or desired him. Sitting back up, Taz played with the top hem of the sheet. Deacon Jones was a wonderful man–strong, honorable, intelligent and hot as hell. If she were ever lucky to enough to have someone to love…
Chort vozmi! Did she love him? She fell backwards on the pillow with a thud. Her heart was pounding, her palms were sweating and the feelings in her chest felt too big for her body to hold. Could he allow her into his world?
This she did not know, but today was the day she’d find out.
Downstairs... Deacon paced in his office. He knew exactly what he was doing–he was hiding. He’d cooked breakfast for both of them, eggs and bacon, then left hers on a plate in the oven and squirreled his away in here to eat alone–where it was safe. Truthfully, waking up beside her felt so good he’d never wanted to leave the bed. And with that knowledge, he’d sprang up and ran out of the room faster than greased lightning.
Periodically, he walked to the door and listened, trying to determine if Taz had come down ready to start their day. Hell! He ran his hand through his hair in frustration. He’d faced the enemy–jumped on a goddamn grenade to save a friend–yet here he was cowering away in some room because a woman made him feel things he thought he never would.
But wasn’t that what he’d been doing for the last few years? Hiding? Sylvia had made him feel things he’d hadn’t ever expected. Shame. Doubt. Insecurity. And now a different woman, different in every wonderful way, was making him feel different things. Desire. Wanted. Hope.
“Deacon?”
He heard her voice. Last night when she’d first come into his room, he’d thought her voice was all in his head. But she’d been real and warm and so sexy that the thought of her had him hard as a rock. Again.
“Deacon?”
Time to face the music.
“I’m coming.” Hell yeah, he’d cum–and he made her cum too–several times.
When he found her, she was swallowing the last bite of bacon. “I hope that was for me, I ate it all.” She walked a few steps closer, hoping he’d pull her into his arms and give her a morning kiss.
“It was, I already ate. Are you ready?”
“Yes.” She rinsed her dish, put it in the dishwasher and followed him back to his office.
“Have a seat.” He motioned to a chair near the window. “As you know, there are some questions I have to ask you to properly ascertain whether or not working the Omega Team would be a good fit for you…and for us.” Her big doe eyes stared straight at him, a little bloom coming to her cheeks as their eyes met and locked. Yea, they both knew the truth. They fit together like a glove. She’d been so tight, a perfect fit for him.
“I understand.”
“So, tell me if you consider yourself to be Russian or American?”
His voice was cold, it made her shiver. Taz placed her hands under her thighs to warm them. “I’m an American, I passed my citizenship test. I’m also a Russian by birth and by blood. I think every American identifies himself with the birthplace of his ancestors. Since I’ve been in the states, I have met Italian Americans, Irish Americans, African Americans, French Americans–”
He held up his hand. “I got it.” Deacon was about to go on, but she began to speak again.
“What is your background?”
Deacon appeared surprised. “Some English, mostly German.”
“Did your father or grandfather experience suspicion because of Hitler?”
His eyes narrowed. “Maybe. But you have to admit your connection is more immediate and irregular. Your father was a KGB agent, an agency responsible for crimes against humanity.”
Taz raised her head higher. “My father served his country. I do not know everything he did as KGB and FSB, but he did protest what he thought was wrong and defected to expose the crimes he’d witnessed. He was murdered for the bravery he showed, poisoned with polonium.”
“Radiation poisoning. Yes, I remember.”
Swallowing, Taz looked to the floor. “He suffered horribly for almost a month before he died.”
“Did he leave his secrets in your care?”
�
�Some of them. He also worked with the CIA and wrote a couple of books detailing the atrocities committed by a regime he didn’t support.”
Deacon frowned. “If he didn’t support the regimes, why would he serve in those state security agencies?”
She studied his face. This was a completely different person from the one she’d been with the night before. He acted like nothing had happened between them. “To know your enemy well, sometimes you have to be close.”
He let out a harsh laugh. “Is that why you want to be part of the Omega Team?”
Taz blanched, not from guilt but that he would even entertain the thought after what they’d shared. “I think our actions and what we lost speak for themselves.”
Deacon paused, as if considering what she’d just said, before continuing. “Why do you want to be part of the Omega Team?”
She didn’t speak immediately, knowing whatever she said could mean the difference between success and failure. “I have the skills to be a good member of the team.” She looked up to him for affirmation.
“I cannot deny the truth of that statement.”
The joy she felt upon hearing his words was short-lived. For the unspoken ‘but’ that would clarify his assertion rang out loud and clear. He wasn’t convinced her becoming a part of the Omega Team was wise. “I would do a good job. I would give it my all. The contribution I could make would be invaluable.” Her voice trailed off, and she shifted in her seat. What did she have to lose? “I also need some place to belong, to be with people who might understand me.”
Deacon tapped the end of his pen on a pad. Ah–now they were getting somewhere. “Why did your father train you? Wouldn’t it have been better to get you as far away from the type of life he’d led as possible?”
She searched for just the right way to convey their struggle. “Of course my father wanted the best life for me as possible. His desire to protect me and give me endless opportunities was why he made the decision to defect in the first place. He just underestimated how hard the Russians would lash back and how little help the place of his asylum would offer us.”
