I didn’t hesitate even a second.
I opened my lips.
He thrust his tongue inside on a feral growl that shot right through me, straight through, down deep, detonating between my legs.
And I was up, plastered to him but moving swiftly.
Then I was down, back to the kitchen table, Priest (or whoever he was) bent over me, his tongue taking, his big hands moving over me just like I knew they’d be.
Far from gentle.
Rough.
Greedy.
Demanding.
Amazing.
I was ready. His tongue in my mouth, his scent in my nostrils, his big body bent over me, those hands on me, I was ready.
And it had nothing to do with not having a lover for months.
It had everything to do with the man who called himself John Priest.
So I curled my fingers into his thermal and pulled up.
He broke his mouth from mine instantly, arching back. His hands going behind his neck, he tore it off and tossed it aside. Then he moved his arms back around me but his fingers yanked at my thermal. I instantly shot my arms in the air, he ripped it off, and threw it away.
Within a breath, I felt my bra unclasped at the back and his finger scratching between my breasts, jerking it off, the straps scraping my arms that were forced in front of me to accommodate its release.
Then he was bent over me and I was forced back to the table, his mouth tracing a path from my neck down. It latched on to my nipple and he drew it in, hard and sharp.
I cried out, my fingers diving into his hair.
“Name,” I breathed.
He sucked harder.
I squirmed beneath him.
“Name!” I demanded.
He released my nipple and his mouth came to mine.
“Deacon,” he rumbled against my lips.
“Deacon,” I whispered and then he was again kissing me.
My fingers still in his hair, I held him to me and kissed him back, giving him everything, taking all I could get.
I felt his hands at my jeans and I knew what that meant. I wanted what that meant. So my hands went there. Our fingers colliding, I got the button, he tore down my zipper.
Suddenly, I lost his mouth but I didn’t mind (much) because my jeans and panties were being dragged down my legs. I felt them catch at my feet and gone was one boot and sock. Then the other. Finally I was naked on the table, my legs spread with big hands gripping tight at the sides of my knees, and he was down.
As in down.
On his knees on the floor, his mouth between my legs.