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Elliot was good at hiding her emotions. There was no fear in her eyes as he advanced, his body and the hand still holding her breast forcing her backward. No uncertainty. The woman’s secrets even extended into the bedroom, it seemed.
The knowledge only made him want to push her harder, strip her bare—and not just her body. He wanted everything.
Her spine met the wall. Deacon didn’t stop until he was pressed flat against her, until there was nowhere else to go, not another inch to put between them. The sweetly supple mounds of her breasts yielded to the rigid plain of his rib cage. Diamond-hard nipples resisted the pressure, just like his cock did, pressed ruthlessly into the softness of her belly. When his fingers closed on her nape, she moaned, her head tipping back in surrender as his mouth came down on hers.
Nothing had ever tasted this good.
Sweet fire and melting need—that was the only way to describe her. Deacon pushed deep, his tongue sliding along hers, wrestling, circling, stroking. He tugged her tongue into his mouth and suckled it like he wanted to suck her nipples, her clit. Showing her how it would be. Elliot’s nails dug into his biceps.
Hold on, baby. Hold on.
Her rounded ass filled his big hands perfectly. He lifted until her core met his hard abdomen, her knees coming up to grip his hips just tight enough that she could drag herself up his swollen erection. When she slid back down, he grunted at the hard surge of semen begging to be released. “Elliot, God.”
“I...I need...”
She lifted again, dropped down. Again and again. Opening his eyes, he caught the desperation on her face, a tinge of something like fear. He didn’t want fear; he wanted her so lost in him, in them, that all she could feel was hunger.
With a single step back, he allowed enough space between Elliot and the wall that he could tip her against it, splaying her in his arms like a goddess waiting to be devoured. He intended to do just that. “Pull your top down for me, Elliot. Let me see you.”
Her hands shook as she reached for the neck of the tank she wore. Slowly, inch by inch, she eased the material over her firm mounds, over hard pink nipples, finally tucking it underneath. The shirt acted almost like a bra, lifting her to his needy mouth. Still holding her stretched out, ass in his hands, shoulders against the wall, he bent and took a tight tip between his lips.
Heaven.
At the first lick of his tongue straight over the top, Elliot bowed herself upward. Her earthy cry climbed a couple of notches when he sucked, lightly at first and then harder, pulling with all the hunger and desperation that had been roiling in his gut since the first moment he saw her. A palm between her shoulder blades held her writhing body steady as he feasted—there was no other way to describe it. He was ravenous, and she was the only thing that could satisfy his hunger.
Something pushing between their bodies finally distracted him, but only long enough for him to realize it was Elliot undoing the zipper of his fatigues. His cockhead pushed up as if begging for her touch, begging her to grip him and give him some relief. Maybe if he hadn’t chosen that moment to bite down on the nipple in his mouth, giving her the slightest edge of pain, she might’ve. As it was, the slide of her rough shorts over him caused a preliminary surge that came very close to ending this all too soon.
He needed control, and the only way to get it was to slow down. He didn’t think Elliot had the same goal in mind.
Time to take matters into his own hands.
He grinned against the valley between her breasts before turning his head to deliver light, sucking kisses around the inner curve of each. At the same time he wrestled his big hand down between them, into the loose waistband of Elliot’s shorts.
No panties, just heat, wet heat. He couldn’t hold back a groan. A frantic suck on her kiss-swollen nipple had Elliot rising into his touch, into the pleasure he showered her in.
His fingers found her lower lips and tucked between them. A slight shift of his hold on her ass and one slid inside.
Barely. She was so tight he wondered for a moment if she was, in fact, a virgin. But surely... Elliot was sexy as hell, a fighter. It had just been a long time for her, maybe as long as it had been for him—she was too tight for anything else to be true. But he had to be sure.
Releasing her breast, he demanded, “Tell me you’ve done this before.” Because God, he didn’t know how slow he could go.
Elliot opened drowsy eyes to stare up at him. “I’ve done this before.”
Relief filtered through him even as he shook with the need to line himself up and drive inside until she gloved him from tip to root, but he clamped down ruthlessly on the instinct to take. Elliot needed him to give first. He could do that. No matter what, he would take care of her. She wouldn’t break, but he might if he didn’t give her the tenderness she deserved.
Her arousal slicked the way as he withdrew, then tunneled back inside. He set up a rhythm, reaching deeper each time, brushing the swollen pad of her G-spot on every pass. Elliot strained to open her legs, open herself to his invasion, and he adjusted his hold so she could do just that. She surrendered her weight completely, allowing it to force her down on his fingers, to grind herself on his hand until she was mindless to everything but the pleasure he was giving her—exactly as he wanted her to be. When his rough palm abraded her sensitive clit at just the right angle, she detonated with a loud cry.
Motherfucker, she was beautiful when she came. And when she melted against him after? He couldn’t think of a single word worthy enough to describe the perfection of the moment.
When the clenching of her channel finally eased, he pulled out and gathered her body tight against him to walk across the room to the bed. Only laying her out on the cushioned surface brought a response, a protest.
“Shh. I’m coming, love.” He stripped them both, then lay down alongside her, one arm pulling her close.
Her eyes opened. “Deacon?”
“Yeah?” Could his voice get any gruffer? But it didn’t seem to bother Elliot. Her hand came up to trace along his stubbled cheek, the tightness in his jaw as he fought for control. When her fingers reached his mouth, he sucked them in, laving them over and over as he watched arousal blossom in her eyes once again.
“Are—” Elliot’s lips tightened, then relaxed. “Are you sure?”
“I’ve never been more fucking sure of anything in my whole life than I am about having you.”
A smile replaced the worry in her gaze. “You say the sweetest things.”
“Like ‘fucking’?”
“Yes.”
“Good.” Leaning down, he nuzzled her neck right behind her ear. “Fucking, fucking, fucking, fucking.” A lick, a deep, deep breath until the only thing in his awareness was the scent of her, the feel of her breasts rubbing his arm as she chuckled. “Fuckin’ A, Ell.” He settled his body completely over hers, enjoying the feel of her tiny form overwhelmed by his much larger one. “Let me please you again. All the way. Let me have you. Now.”
“Yes.”
His heart stuttered at that single whispered word. Propped on his forearms, he dragged his chest over hers, the rough hair abrading her nipples until they stood up for him once more. Until her breath was a quick, rhythmic gust against his skin. Until she squirmed restlessly beneath him, trying to get closer, trying to escape, but his arms pinning her shoulders and his legs between hers kept her caged.
“Deacon, please. Kiss me. Touch me.”
He did. Her lips were swollen, a soft cushion beneath his, but they moved against him, at once tender and hungry. Her mouth opened, and he breathed into her his own need. The thrusting of his tongue, the wet slide of her around it, echoed like an electric shock throughout his body. A ricochet of pleasure and the pain of waiting chased it.
Settling his pelvis against Elliot’s core felt more right than anything in his memory...except the wet slide of her open labia along his erection. The way her knees lifted and tilted outward to make room for him. The heat of her hands as she began to stroke his stomach, his sides, his back. It was all exactly right. And when he shifted back, centered his cock at her vagina, and pushed slowly inside—that was the ultimate perfection.
His groan mingled with Elliot’s. The tight clasp of her strangled him, shot pleasure through every cell in his body, even as the fit of him inside made him sweat. Elliot—she lifted to meet his entry, but there was also a grimace of pain twisting her full mouth. Deacon kept going, keep pushing, but lowered his lips to nuzzle at the sensitive skin of her neck. At his kiss, Elliot contracted around him.
“Fuck.”
“My thoughts exactly.” Elliot’s voice was nearly as strangled as his dick.
He tried a little side-to-side shifting. “Open up for me, Elliot. Let me in.”
Her back arched, the curve of her neck so beautiful in the faint light from the nearby monitor. “I’m trying.”
Deacon retreated, advanced. It took three thrusts to push in to the hilt. When Elliot squeaked at the brush of his cock against her cervix, he held still. Not Elliot—she writhed on him like a worm stuck on a hook.
It had definitely been a long damn time for her.
“Shh. Shh.” He nipped her throat, the join of neck and shoulder. Down to one full breast. “It’s all right. Take your time.” He traced the plump mound with his tongue, his breath. “It’s all right.”
“Why did you have to be so goddamn big?”
He chuckled. “Thanks for the compliment.”
“It wasn’t a compliment,” she complained. Wiggled some more. “I’m lodging a protest.”
“Really?” Planting his knees, he pulled back until only the tip remained inside her. On the return he angled to glide along her G-spot.
Elliot choked.
“Still protesting?”
Her knees canted higher, along his ribs; her pelvis tilted, allowing him deeper. “I don’t think so.”
He didn’t like the touch of doubt in her words, so he tried again. And again. A slow and easy rhythm set to drive her mad before he pushed her to orgasm. From the way she clenched around him and the gush of wet heat on his erection, he figured he must be doing something right.
And then he sucked a turgid nipple into his mouth.
Elliot exploded like he’d lit a bomb in her core. Maybe he had.
“Again, spitfire,” he growled. Switching sides, he locked the second nipple to the roof of his mouth and nursed hard.
“Ahhh!”
Elliot bucked, seeming unsure whether she wanted his sucking or his thrusts more. Deacon gave her both, harder and harder and harder until he was pounding against her clit and Elliot was clawing at his back. A tingle started at the base of his spine, shooting down to his balls, and he knew he was out of time. Releasing her breast, he licked his thumb and sought out her most sensitive spot. The hard nub strained from beneath its hood, seeming to eagerly await his touch. He gave it with a rough circling of the pad of his thumb.
“Deacon!”
“Come for me again, Elliot,” he demanded. “Come on.” A few more circles, a few more thrusts, neither on rhythm as pleasure broke him down, and the tension burst in Elliot’s body. Deacon let himself go, a quick flurry of thrusts drawing out Elliot’s climax until he joined her in free fall.
When sanity finally returned and he opened his eyes, he realized he’d gone limp over Elliot’s body. Too heavy. Shoving his hands under her hips, he quickly rolled them over until she was splayed atop him.
Elliot moaned but didn’t seem inclined to move, not until he softened enough that his retreat released a gush of fluid between them. Then she startled. “What... Oh God.”
He rubbed his palm down her spine. “Hmm?”
“We didn’t use a condom.”
The words were like a brick upside the head. Shit, of course they hadn’t. He hadn’t. He glanced around frantically as if he could find a way to fix his mistake, but it was far too late and he forced himself to relax.
“God, Elliot, I’m sorry.” He rubbed his chin along the top of her head, his thumb against the hollow at the base of her spine, needing to soothe her as much as himself. “My only excuse is that it’s not something I’ve had to worry about for a long time. Years. I— Really—”
Elliot raised a hand to cover his mouth. “You know, sometimes you chatter like a girl.”
He bit her fingers lightly. When she jerked them back, he tried again. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay, Deacon. I’m on birth control. No little soldiers running around down there will find a permanent home.”
That was one way of seeing it. And though she didn’t ask, he knew he was clean—Julia had been his only lover. “It doesn’t matter. I should’ve taken care of you.”
“I’m a big girl. I take care of myself.”
You shouldn’t have to. He didn’t say the words aloud, though. Elliot was liable to kick him in parts he had no way of protecting right now.
“So...” How to phrase this delicately? “Do you usually forgo a condom?” He knew from the reports in her file that she saw a doctor regularly, and though the detailed results weren’t included, the summaries had indicated no known diseases.
Two fingers sifted through the hair on his chest, circled his nipple, tugged gently.
Did that mean yes?
He’d opened his mouth to ask again when Elliot finally spoke. “The only time I was with someone, no, we didn’t use a condom. I was a teenager, and the thought never even occurred to me.”
But Elliot was twenty-four now. “Only one?” Did he want to know? He shook his head. “No, don’t answer that. It’s not my business.”
“Only one,” she said, ignoring his command. “When the people in charge found out, I was punished. I never saw him again.”
Jesus. He remembered from her file that she was an orphan, which meant she’d likely been in the foster care system. He could understand removing someone, but it didn’t sound as if Elliot had had a lot of affection in her life.
“Why no one since?”
She shrugged, the action rubbing her breasts against his skin. He fought back a groan. “I learned my lesson a little too well, I guess.”
She had, though maybe not the lesson she thought she’d learned. She’d been punished for having sex, but what she’d learned was that giving herself to anyone led to pain. The thought gutted him. When Elliot shifted again, he realized he’d clenched his fingers into her hip. It took conscious effort to relax his hold.
But hold her he did, long into the night, wishing his arms around her could teach her a far different lesson than the one her teenage self had learned.