Her breathing had increased, warm puffs bursting past her kiss-swollen lips. “This is what I’ve been fantasizing about.” He reached down and pressed his palm against the aching ridge of his erection. “This is the image that has kept me hard since I saw you looking at these boots.”
She squeezed her thighs together and whimpered.
“Are you aching, Alex?”
“Yes.”
“Show me what you did to yourself while I was away, and I’ll give you a reward.” He was torturing himself, but fuck it. Just knowing that she’d gotten herself off thinking of him was making him crazy. Her eyes flared, and she bit her lip. “Do it. Touch yourself. Show me.”
She kept those amazing eyes on him as she slid a hand down over her belly and between her spread thighs. He swallowed hard as she spread herself with delicate fingers and started slicking her arousal up and back.
“Jesus Christ,” he hissed, closer to losing it than he had been in his entire life. “That’s it, sweetheart. Make yourself come. Get yourself off while I watch.”
She made a needy little whimper and pushed a finger inside her tight opening, gasping, undulating her hips. He knew her eyes were locked on him, he could feel it, but he couldn’t tear his gaze away from what she was doing between her thighs. Her fingers pumped in and out, rapidly, glistening with her wetness. Then she pulled out, slid them to her clit, and started circling. Her whimpers got louder, more desperate, then she was coming, crying out, body shaking.
“Fucking stunning.” He’d never been closer to disgracing himself in his entire life. She’d collapsed back, breathing heavily. He took her hand lying limp on her thigh and lifted it to his mouth, sucking her fingers clean, and his cock pulsed harder. “You need more?”
“Yes,” she whispered.
“Do you want me to make it all better?”
“Please. Please make it better.”
She was killing him. Alex never begged for anything, never showed vulnerability—she’d always seen it as a weakness, an opportunity for others to take advantage. But right now she wasn’t holding anything back from him. It was all there in her expressive dark eyes. Things she would never say out loud, things that had his heart pounding in his chest.
“Spread your legs wider, sweetheart. Show me how hot and wet you are.” She let her parted knees fall open, giving him what he asked for. He groaned, so desperate to slam inside her he was fucking shaking. He slid his fingers around her left ankle and hooked the heel of one boot behind the car’s big chrome grill, then the other. “I want to slide my tongue inside that tight little snatch so bad I can barely think straight, but you need my cock, don’t you, baby?”
She made a hot, hungry sound in the back of her throat. “Yes.”
She was completely exposed, open to him, at his mercy. “Do you have any idea how exquisite you look right now?” He ran his hands up her inner thighs, opening her farther. “This is another fantasy of mine, actually. Though this one’s been around a lot longer.” He massaged her inner thighs, not giving her what she wanted, what they both wanted, just yet.
Her breath hitched. “Tell me.”
Jesus. He’d spent more nights than he could remember before and after the first time he’d slept with Alex thinking of this. Nights when he was forced to rub off hard and fast, biting his pillow so no one would hear him groaning out her name.
“I spent a lot of time imagining you just like this, naked, at my mercy.” He moved his hand higher, cupping her. Shit, so hot. And gently massaged her slick flesh. She bucked her hips, gasping. “Fucking you hard on the hood of one of these old cars. But in my fantasy, we’re out in the country. The sun’s beating down, warming all that smooth skin. You’re calling my name, begging me to take you harder, and I do, I take you so hard you scream and come around my cock. Do you want that, Alex? You want me to fuck you hard?”
Chapter Seventeen
Alex was mindless at this point. Nothing but need and desperation.
“You want me to fuck you hard?” Deacon repeated, hand still between her thighs, teasing her, making her quiver and shake. She was sensitive from making herself come and on the verge of coming again just from his gentle touch, the sound of his voice. His rough commands and descriptions of what he wanted to do to her.
“Yes. I want it.” She ignored the begging note to her voice, or how much letting him take control over her in this way turned her on. How much she needed it from him. With Deacon, she could just let go.
He started undoing the buttons on his shirt, and she realized he must have come to her straight from the airport. He’d taken off the jacket but was still wearing trousers instead of jeans. For some reason the thought of him rushing straight to her, coming to her first, made her belly flutter. He balled up his shirt and threw it on the car with her tank top, then dropped his hands to the front of his pants.
Yes, please. Her inner muscles fluttered in anticipation as he undid his belt and shoved down his pants and boxers, freeing that beautiful, long cock. He didn’t take his eyes off her as he moved between her trembling thighs. One of his hands landed on her waist, the other moving up to cup the side of her throat, his fingers lingering over her hammering pulse.
He sucked in an unsteady breath. “You are so beautiful, Alex.” His hand moved down between her breasts, over her belly. “You don’t have any idea, do you?”
His voice was deep, rough, had a note of something she was afraid to believe in, afraid to hope for. Just afraid, full stop. The intensity in his gaze made it hard to hold his stare. What the hell is he doing?
It was too much, not enough. She needed him to stop looking at her like that. She needed to bring this back to the reason she was lying naked on the hood of his father’s Pontiac. Bringing her hands to her breasts, she teased her nipples. “Don’t make me beg for it, Deke. Come on. Give it to me.” The muscles in her thighs shook, her body way past want to flat-out need at this point.
His nostrils flared. “Oh, I’m going to give it to you,” he rasped.
But instead of slamming inside her, taking her hard like he’d promised, he positioned himself and slid deep inside her, nice and slow. When he was fully seated, he leaned over her and kissed her. The kiss was deep, tender, and had the ability to break her into a thousand pieces.
No. No. No. Not this, anything but this. She reached down and gripped his ass, grinding against his hips. He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, sucking in deep steadying breaths. Dammit, she wanted him to lose control. To take her like he had in the bar, over her kitchen table. Taking her hands, he gripped them in one of his and lifted them over her head, holding her completely immobile.
He stared down at her. “Not this time, sweetheart. This time we’re going to take it slow.”
She started to shake her head in denial, panic knotting her lower belly, but then he withdrew, and she moaned at the feel of all that hard, hot flesh moving inside her. He was relentless, his big body shaking with the effort, but the stubborn bastard took his time, kissing her in a way that made her heart hurt, made her wish for things that could never be. Didn’t he realize what he was doing to her? What this was doing to her?
“Fuck, I missed this,” he rasped against her lips.
Jesus. She couldn’t take much more.
He grunted, soft and deep, and kept on making the unconscious, unrestrained sound every time he pushed inside her. It was the sexiest thing she’d ever heard; it lifted the hair on the back of her neck, made her toes curl.
“I missed the feel of you, so tight around my cock, the way you grasp me tighter when I pull out like you can’t bear me to leave. You need this as badly as me, don’t you, sweetheart?”