Deacon (Unfinished Hero #4)(35)

Unfortunately, at the same time I remembered that he’d said the night before that he was wiped.

I was an early riser and didn’t even have to look at the clock, just note that dawn was barely touching the sky, and even though we went to bed way early, it was also now way early.

So, as much as I wanted to put my hands on him, wake him up, coax him into making love to me, I needed to let him sleep.

Therefore, carefully, I rolled away from him, cautiously moving the covers so I wouldn’t disturb him too much or give him a shot of cold as I got out of bed.

I didn’t make it.

Deacon rolled too, and his arm came out, hooking me around my belly and hauling me back into his frame.

“Where you goin’?” he growled sleepily into the back of my hair.

“Letting you sleep, old man,” I replied, hoping he’d get that with the last part, I was teasing.

He got it.

I knew with his unoffended response of, “Don’t need sleep.”

He also communicated what he did need, doing it by pressing his hips into my ass and I felt that at least one part of him was very awake.

“You got shit to do?” he asked, shoving his other hand under me as the arm already around me shifted, his hand trailing up my belly.

I always had shit to do, but truthfully, once I got the cabins the way I wanted them, outside of check out cleaning, since I didn’t provide daily maid service, managing eleven rental cabins wasn’t that taxing.

“Not really,” I answered.

“Good,” he muttered as his hands made it to their destinations, one curling around my breast, the other one cupping me between my legs.

I liked that. I liked the smell of him. I liked his heat. I liked that he was there with me. I liked all that so much, I pressed my hips back into his.

His hand between my legs pushed deeper, his fingers slipping through the wet folds, and my lips parted on a soft breath as my hips jerked slightly.

“Fuck. Ready,” he growled and kept doing it. “You good with ungloved?”

I was good with anything he wanted to do to me.

I didn’t say that.

I said, “Yes, baby.”

His finger and thumb at my breast rolled my nipple as I felt his body shift, position. I knew what he was doing, I liked what he was doing, all of it, so I tilted my hips to give him what he needed.

His cock slid through my wet, the tip caught, and he thrust in, fast, hard, deep, filling me.

My head went back and I moaned.

He pulled hard at my nipple then his hand slid up to my throat.

“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 f*cked 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.