“Gonna take me hard, Cassie,” he warned.
I’d take him hard.
I’d take anything he wanted to give to me.
“Okay,” I breathed.
“Okay,” he whispered, then he buried his face in the back of my hair and did what he said he was going to do.
Fingering my clit, his other hand curled light at my throat, he fucked me hard, pounding deep, holding me steady to take him as I pushed my hips into his to get more, panted, whimpered, and finally tensed. My hands flying to his wrists to wrap around, I moaned long and brokenly as the heady release burned through me.
It was only then he lifted his head and buried his face in my neck, his hand between my legs becoming an arm wrapped tight around my belly. His hand at my throat shifting to become an arm across my chest, fingers curled into my shoulder. And he held me snug as I took him even harder. Coming down but still glorying in the velvet brutality, thrilling at every grunt that exploded against my skin
And I did this until he sunk his teeth in my neck before he drove his cock deep inside me and groaned his climax into my flesh.
He couldn’t have come down, not even begun to recover before his voice came at me, rough and thick.
“Here,” he said, pulling his face out of my neck.
I didn’t know what that meant since I was already seriously here.
I turned my head to ask and unintentionally gave him what he wanted.
He took my mouth, the kiss long, languid, wet, and sweet.
He ended it by letting go of my mouth at the same time he pushed his hips into mine one last time, reminding me of our connection, which meant it ended on a whimper from me.
As my eyes opened slowly, I noticed he didn’t move very far away.
And the instant he got my gaze, he said quietly, “Mornin’, Cassie.”
Mornin’, indeed.
“Good morning, Deacon.”
He grinned at me.
And yes.
It was a good morning.
Indeed.
* * * * *
“The Mexican Jumping Bean?”
I turned my head to the left at Deacon’s question.
We were up, showered, had toast, and got dressed and out to load up in his truck and hit the road to put money down on a puppy.
It took me a while to process being in Deacon’s mud-caked Suburban, a vehicle I’d seen for six years (well, not this particular one, but still) and there I was…in it.
With Deacon.
This awesomeness took its time to move through me and only subsided when we were nearly through town and the sign for my favorite coffee shop caught my eye. Therefore, I asked Deacon to swing in (okay, I didn’t ask, I bounced in my seat excitedly, and considering I figured he was not a man who did fancy coffee, I begged).
I didn’t have to beg. He didn’t hesitate to swing in. He parked in front and was now looking through the windshield, reading the sign while I undid my seatbelt.