His touch was gentle as the endless tide. A hot trail of breath followed by unhurried lips. She rocked back against him, his solid strength made her feel safe and loved, and his growing hardness at her lower back brought out the urgency from earlier to the forefront.
How he always managed to bring both out at the same time shouldn’t surprise her anymore, but each kiss dragged her into the storm that was Deacon. Sometimes a shelter in her own stormy mind, and sometimes he was the cause of her turbulent emotions. Love, lust, and comfort tumbled around her chest in a never-ending cycle.
At the nip of his teeth along her jaw, she drew in a shuddering breath. Her nails dug into his forearm holding her tight as his other hand slid under her shirt to trace circles over her belly. Each slow touch seemed to have the opposite effect inside her. Her blood felt like it was racing through her veins. Everything felt too slow, too claustrophobic. She needed more.
Soft kisses and gentle touches were Deacon’s stock in trade and she loved him for it. Loved that he cherished her. But the other side of him was what she needed right now. The pounding surf reverberated in her chest like a double time beat. Heady, thrumming, and mind bending.
She laced her fingers over his and pushed his hand higher to cup her breast. The whisper of familiar callouses over her nipple tightened them to aching points. To have him here like this, no interruptions and no ticking clock should have eased her. Instead, a moan crashed out of her too full chest. She flipped up the cups of her bra and shirt. Struggling to get out of the restriction.
Deacon’s breath hitched and his touch went from quiet to firm. He cupped and plucked, his mouth busy along her neck where she loved him to suck and tease.
Still not enough.
She still needed more.
The air slipped over her too warm flesh and collided with Deacon’s hot hands.
“Yes.” She covered his hands again, holding him to her tighter. It felt like there were a million firing points under her skin and all of them were centered on her nipples. Her head slammed back on his chest as she arched.
The echoing groan rumbled through him and into her. She turned in his arms, grasping at his shoulders. The man was nothing if not in tune with her. He hoisted her up so she could wrap her legs around his hips.
Encouraged by the heavy erection tucked between them, she ground her hips against him. It was the best she could do with all these stupid clothes on. She locked her arms around his neck, her nails scraping up the back of his skull. Silky hair feathered through her fingers. Instead of the cool enjoyment she usually got, it felt like fire licking the backs of her hands.
Spurred on by the unquenchable thirst for him, she covered his mouth with hers. His fingers bit into her hips as the kiss went deep and penetrating. Exactly the way she wanted him.
Deep.
Inside her.
Filling her.
Deacon at his most primal. He seemed to understand that. There had been so little time for them lately. So little connection during the little bits of in between. Between jobs, between lyrics, between sessions, between fights with the band.
Between breathing.
Deacon was her air. When life bombarded and suffocated, just the touch of his warm skin brought balance. Sometimes it was the soft she needed and sometimes it was the desperate.
Right now, she was past desperation. She felt like every atom was vibrating apart.
The sheer curtains slid over her bare shoulder as he headed through the doors. Moonlight gilded his hair, his shoulders, leaving the rest of him in silhouette. Her knees dug into his ribs as he lifted her, his mouth finding her breast, his teeth scoring over her nipple before sucking it deep into the heat of his mouth.
They toppled to the bed and he raced down her chest to her belly, scoring his calloused fingertips over her skin to the stretchy pants she wore. He dragged them down, his open mouth finding the center of her unerringly.
She bowed up off the bed, crying out his name, every swear word she could think of, every oath as his tongue delved between her lips. As he hollowed her out with each drawing suck, followed by long thorough thrusts of his tongue. Pleasure drowned her, his passion fueled her. All of the screaming atoms vibrated and coiled throughout her body.
The fluid softness of the sheets at her back pulled her under as he splayed her open. She tried to crawl up the bed.
Too much.
She was going to fly apart.
Half on the bed, half off, he curled his arms under her thighs and laced his fingers over her belly. With his thumbs, he opened her too-swollen lips. Long fingers owned her body, strummed her, plucked her, soothed her even as he watched her with wild green eyes.
She tried to buck him off.
Too much.
The growl of the dark, dominant part of Deacon lived there at the edge of the bed, staring up at her. Thrilling, dangerous, life-affirming.
Always too much.
And never enough.
Her name was a guttural groan before he fused his mouth over her clit and sucked.
The air seemed to still and the room drifted away. There was only his eyes, his mouth, and the precipice that they both balanced on.
Mine.
Always mine.
Deacon.
Always Deacon.
Three
Greed