Feeding.
God.
Oh God.
Not feeding.
Feeding.
My back left the table. My legs spasming against his grip, he tossed them over his shoulders, cupped my ass in his hands, and pulled me deeper into his mouth.
I dug my heels in his back, my own back arching higher, as a cry escaped my lips and my climax tore through me, shredding me, destroying me.
The good way.
The way it was meant to be.
Before I was even close to coming down, Deacon was over me. I felt the tip of his cock sliding through my wet, he caught where he needed to be and thrust inside, filling me.
“Baby,” I breathed, wrapping my arms tight around him, lifting my knees high, pressing my thighs to his sides as he drove into me.
“Fuck. Years,” he grunted against my neck, powering deep.
Oh God.
God.
He’d waited, holding back, wanting, maybe hoping.
Just like me.
“Years,” I whispered.
“Too long,” he growled.
“Way too long,” I agreed, gliding from the down of my climax into the up of another one as I took his cock and felt his teeth nip my earlobe.
“Beauty,” he ground out.
“You fit me. Perfect.”
“Tight. So wet. Fuck,” he groaned, slamming inside me.
“It’s building again,” I told him, my voice breathy and sharp, the pleasure amping.
“Ride it, Cassie.”
Cassie.
Oh man.
He was right.
This was right.
We were right.
Beauty.