the side of my panties, gripping my ass. My center heats, and I move against him.
His fingers trace a line to the middle of my thighs, and I exhale a moan as he drags them up and down my clit, circling and massaging as I ride his hand.
My voice breaks with desire. “I need you now.”
Our hands fumble together, unfastening his pants, lowering them so his cock springs free, so I can line it up and drop, closing my eyes as he fills me, moaning so loud, his large hand fumbles to cover my mouth, thick fingers slipping between my teeth.
My pelvis rocks, and I’m grinding. His face is in my hair, close to my ear, so I can hear his rough breathing, his groans of desire.
“Angel…” It’s a hiss of need as his hips lift, driving his cock deeper into me.
His brow furrows, and he lies back on my bed. I lean forward on him, riding fast and hard, feeling the sensations as they whip me higher, tighter, twisting my insides. My breasts bounce, nipples tight, and I can’t get enough.
My thighs tighten, my insides tighten, the friction is more than I can bear. My brain is on fire, and I can’t slow the movements of my body. It’s primal, instinctive. I’m chasing the orgasm that’s so close… right there…
“Oh, God…” I gasp as it breaks. My legs shudder, and my back arches as the pleasure shoots through me like a shock. “Oh…” I can’t stop the release.
Deacon’s hands tighten on my ass, gripping me and moving me up and down on his cock as he breaks.
I feel him pulsing. His lips are at my ear as he comes. “Angel…” It’s half-prayer, half-groan, causing my core to squeeze.
We hold each other, not caring about the world around us, not worried about the hate or who might find us. We’re like we’ve always been, in our own place of love and desire and need and satisfaction.
Deacon holds me, rolling us to the side so I’m facing him on the bed. He kisses my nose, my cheek, my lips. “I love you so much.”
My heart warms, and I rise up to kiss him back. “I love you.”
“Little seductress.” He exhales a laugh, shaking his head. “What will I do with you?”
“Stay with me forever.”
“If only.” He starts to rise, but I hold him.
“Deacon…”
“Angel…” He leans down again, resting his head against my breast. “You make it so hard for me.”
“Why should I make it easy?” I grin, holding him, loving how hard it is for him to leave me.
He starts to laugh. “Your brother threatened to shoot me if he caught me with you again.”
Everything inside me freezes, and my grip relaxes. “What did you say?”
I remember Beto’s gun, his anger, his hatred of everything Dring.
The teasing grin on Deacon’s face falters, and he seems to catch himself. “I shouldn’t have told you that.”
“Yes, you should have.” I rise up beside him, straightening my clothes.
“We were all amped up. Everyone was pissed. He was talking out of his ass.”
“You should go.” I’m off the bed, straightening my panties and going to the window. “We can meet at your apartment next time.”
“This is a switch.” He’s teasing, but I’m freaking out. “Please…”
He’s at the window, throwing a leg over the balustrade and sitting. “Come here.”
Stepping closer, I put my arms around his neck, my old friend Fear buzzing in my veins.
Dropping his chin, he kisses my lips. “I’m not afraid of your brother. I’ll see you tomorrow, and in the meantime, I’m working on this. You trust me?”
He’s so beautiful. He’s everything to me. If anything happens to him…
“Of course, I trust you.” My voice is a broken whisper, and I put my palm against his scruffy cheek.
He leans forward, kissing me longer, pulling my lips with his. I want to hold him, but I need him to go. I can’t take a chance on what he just told me.
“I’ll call you.” One last kiss, and he drops to the pavement, dashing across the back patio and off my brother’s property.
I’m breathing fast, terrified. I had no idea when he came here what my brother had threatened, how dangerous our love had become.
My brother is angry and unpredictable. Regardless of what Deacon thinks, I don’t know what Beto might do. Would he really shoot Deacon? He’s so obsessed with avenging the past…
Either way, I’m not taking a chance.
17
Deacon
The life-sized portrait of my aunt is unfinished, but I’m drawn by her eyes and