“What?” he growled, the sound coming from deep, like it was torn from him.
I licked the tip again and said, “I don’t know why.”
“What?” he repeated.
I licked him from base to tip, my eyes glued to his, then I swirled the head with my tongue, watching his face get darker and darker, his jaw harder and harder, his legs more tense as he watched me. I did all this fighting the urge to squirm or climb on and ride him until I gave it to him. And me.
I wrapped my fist around him, pulling his cock away from where it was lying on his stomach, and said, “I don’t know why it’s you.”
“Jesus, woman, you wanna share this with me now?”
I stroked him with my hand and whispered, “I just know it’s you.”
His face got darker and I knew it wasn’t just because of what I was doing with my hand.
I kept whispering when I shared, “Because you make me happy.”
I lost purchase on his shaft when he did an ab curl and grasped me under my arms. With a yank, I was up and moving swiftly, landing on my belly on the bed. I felt Deacon’s knees pushing my legs apart as he positioned, his hands on my hips hauling me up.
He barely got my knees under me before he thrust in, yanking my hips back, drilling me.
And I was even more happy.
“Baby,” I whimpered.
Then, no other way to put it, even though he’d already pretty much mounted me, he finished that by curving his body over mine, putting a forearm into the bed beside me, thus mounting me.
He pulled my hair away from my face and put his lips close to my ear.
“Future,” he grunted, still driving deep. “That game you just played, you play it again, you’re gonna win, but I’m gonna choose how you get the prize.”
“Okay,” I breathed, deciding to play that game a lot as in, a lot.
And again I was up because he wrapped both arms around me and hauled me up so I was back to his front, impaled on his cock.
God.
Heavenly.
He held me to him and took me that way for a while before he bent again and had me ass in the air and took me that way for a while.
Finally, he pulled out, turned me to my back, shoved my legs up with his hands behind my knees, and mounted me again. He took me that way until I exploded beneath him, tensing against his grip, jerking against his thrusts, and calling his name.
He kept thrusting but he gave me time before he ordered, “Woman, look at me.”
I focused on him over me, still gripping my knees high and wide, still pounding inside me.
“Watch what you do to me,” he grunted.
I could do that. I so could do that.
“Whatever you want, baby.”
Then I gave him what he wanted and watched what I did to him, doing it gleefully. I did this all the way through to when he started bucking between my legs, every beautiful, bunched muscle in his body standing out in gorgeous relief, and his head shot back as he poured himself inside me.
Seconds later, he released my legs and dropped over me, taking only a minimum of his substantial weight into a forearm beside me.
I didn’t mind taking his weight. I liked it.