The Man Who Has No Sight - Victoria Quinn Page 0,67

his neck as I sealed a kiss on his lips.

He was ready for it, like he was just as anxious to touch me as I was to touch him. His arms locked around me, and he squeezed me against him, kissing me like he’d been gone months instead of a single week. His hand slid into my hair and his kiss deepened, like our separation made him fall more in love with me.

I closed my eyes and treasured this moment, treasured this joy. I was so happy, and I wasn’t sure if I would always be this happy, if we would always have this…because it could all change in an instant.

He ended the kiss and rested his forehead against mine. “Baby, I missed you.”

“I missed you too.”

He kissed my forehead before he released me. He spotted Derek on the couch and walked over, sitting beside him and placing his hand on his head, his fingers gliding through his son’s thick hair.

I sat on the coffee table and watched Deacon stare at his son. “He tried to stay up, but…”

As if I wasn’t there at all, he ran his fingers through Derek’s hair, lost in quiet contentment, like he was happy just to look at his son after the long week. He moved his hand to his back, right over his heartbeat, like he wanted to feel life at his fingertips.

He scooped him into his arms and carried him to bed.

I waited in the living room in case Derek woke up, so they could have a moment together.

But Deacon returned right away.

“Are you hungry? Because I have leftovers—”

“No. I just want to go to bed.” He grabbed his luggage and pulled it into the bedroom.

I followed him, knowing he wasn’t in the mood to talk. There was one thing on his mind, and it was really obvious based on the way he looked at me, the way he turned demanding. He stripped off his clothes and left them on the floor before he pulled my shirt over my head then palmed my bare tits with his big hands. His lips moved to my neck, and he kissed me hard, sucking at my delicate skin, his teeth even grazing across it.

I pushed down my sweatpants and underwear as I leaned my head back, letting him kiss me, letting him eat me. I listened to his deep breaths against my ear, felt my body grow wet even though I’d been pleasing myself all week.

Once the clothes were off, he dragged my hips to the edge and then slid inside me, sinking into me in one single thrust, gliding through my channel like I’d been ready for him all week.

He had the sexiest moan, like his slick hand had been no comparison. He pushed himself inside completely, his balls against my ass, and gripped my thighs as he tugged me into place, his feet flat on the rug, his muscular body straight and tight. Then he thrust into me at an even pace, quick but not hard, deep but not slow. His eyes locked on mine, and he gripped me in place as his hips worked to fuck me, to coat the cream along his base, to hit my cervix just enough to remind me how big he was.

Like I could ever forget.

It wasn’t fucking, but it wasn’t lovemaking either. It was somewhere in between, and that’s what made it perfect. He was a man who needed to fuck after being alone for a week, but he also loved me, also wanted to reconnect our souls as well as our bodies.

I lay there and enjoyed it, watching this drop-dead gorgeous man struggle not to come with every thrust, like my wet pussy was too much for him to resist, like this was what he’d been thinking about all week…and nothing else.

When I woke up the next morning, Deacon was already showered and ready to go.

I sat up in bed, disappointed he was already heading to work. When I looked at the time, I realized I needed to hustle if I was going to get Derek to school on time. “Why did I sleep in so late?” I squinted at the time on the nightstand.

He came out of the closet, dressed and ready to go. “I’ll take Derek to school.”

“Oh…okay.” Now, I was so used to it that it felt odd letting someone else take over.

He sat at the edge of the bed and looked down at me, his hand sliding into my hair and