Caged (Mastered, #4)(50)

Colin kissed me with the finesse of a man who understood kissing was an art, a journey of itself, not just a prelude to full-body contact and sliding part A into slot B.

That kiss destroyed me piece by piece even as it built me up brick by brick. I became stronger the longer his mouth remained on mine. I knew this was right between us. Damn the age difference. Damn the supposed impropriety between teacher and student. Damn everything but this passion that was the only truth between us.

Colin’s lips—soft and warm and damp—glided across my cheek to my ear. He tried to hide his labored breathing from me, and for that reason it burrowed into the very heart of me.

“Do you know how bloody hard it was to push you away, Caitlin?” He nuzzled the hollow beneath my ear. “When I really wanted to push you onto the bed and do every dirty thing I’ve been fantasizing about for weeks?”

“I’m not busy right now,” I breathed.

A small chuckle broke free and vibrated against my skin. “So why do I feel dirtier that you caught me rubbing one out than I did when thinking about your hand on my cock?”

“You think too much,” I murmured back. “You can have the reality instead of a fantasy.” I arched as he placed sucking kisses from beneath my earlobe down the column of my neck. “You know you want to push me to my knees. So do it.”

I waited, expecting he’d say no and act as if he knew what I needed rather than what I wanted. So I braced myself for his rejection.

I should’ve braced myself for his strong grip on my shoulders as he forced me to kneel.

Molly’s cheeks were warm. Her eyes burned hot. Her voice had turned scratchy, and she paused to take a drink. Then she felt Deacon’s eyes on her. “What?”

“Keep goin’. That’s f*cking hot.”

She swigged her water again before she read on.

A sense of power rolled through me as my lips met the wet tip of his cock. I barely had time to ready myself before his big hands cradled my head and he guided his cock into my mouth, which was already wet with anticipation.

The musky taste of him was as potent as the man himself. I flattened my palms on his upper thighs and squeezed the muscles as I pulled him deeper into my mouth. I’d make this blow job the best he’d ever had or choke trying. His girth stretched my lips, and the weight of his thick shaft rested heavily on my tongue. My throat felt overly stuffed and my gag reflex kicked in, but I pushed past that and began to work him.


Colin spewed a bunch of curses and Gaelic words, but I had drifted into that state where seeing to his pleasure increased mine.

I slid my hands around to grip his ass. To encourage him to plunge into my mouth without holding back. Needing him to see me differently—not as his graduate assistant, but as his sexual equal. Wanting him to understand that as his lover, I’d deny him nothing. Silently promising him that fulfilling his kinkiest, dirtiest desires, anytime, anyplace was my ultimate fantasy.

And I sensed when that shift occurred. His hands were rougher, as were the sounds working out from deep inside him. I knew he wouldn’t hold back. There’d be no warning when he started to come in my mouth. He’d take his pleasure in the manner I’d offered—with no restrictions.

That’s when I drifted into the sexual high I’d experienced only once before.

Colin rammed into my mouth and stopped.

I started to swallow immediately after that first spurt slid down the back of my throat. The muscles contracted around the head of his cock, and he groaned and twitched until I’d milked every drop.

He threw his hand against the wall to keep himself upright, his lungs heaving and his body damp with sweat.

There was the dirty, sexy man I wanted—not the staid professor.

That was as good a place to end as any.

Deacon didn’t say a word. With his sunglasses on, she couldn’t read his eyes.

She refused to look at his crotch to see if the scene had affected him.

Without taking his eyes off the road, Deacon asked, “Did that scene get you hot?”

“A little. Did it do anything for you?”

“I’m hard as a f*cking barbell.”

Then Molly did sneak a peek at his groin. She clearly saw the outline of his cock off to the left side of his camo shorts.

“When you read stuff like that, do you put yourself in the story?”

“Like I was Caitlin, on my knees, gobbling up Colin’s cock?”

Deacon groaned. “Gobbling? Jesus, babe.”

She laughed—a trifle nervously. “Do you think it was easy for me to read that to you?”

“Answer the question.”

Molly tried to find the right phrasing. “It wasn’t me in the story. It’s more like I’m a voyeur—which is a kink you’re very familiar with.”

He snorted.

“Your turn. While you were listening, did you—”

“Imagine it was your hands touching me, your lips on mine, my cock plunging into your mouth? You’re goddamn right it was you and me.”

“Why?”

“Because it was like that for us in the beginning. I wanted you like f*cking crazy but had convinced myself I couldn’t have you and I had to stay away from you.”

Molly set her hand on his forearm and followed the dips and grooves of his muscles with the tips of her fingers. She feathered her thumb over the crease in his elbow and continued her exploration of his upper arm, stopping to map the deep cuts of his biceps and trace the ripped edges of his triceps. “You have me now, Deacon. So what are you gonna do with me?”