Caged (Mastered, #4)(67)

“I asked for ground floor when they were building this. But something got f*cked-up. The real estate developer cut me a deal, and it was too good to pass up.”

“Where’s your bedroom?”

“Patience, woman. Let’s head back to the kitchen.”

Molly was out of patience. She needed to see where he rested his shaved head at night—why was he denying her? To distract him so she could make a break for it, she said the first thing that popped into her head. “Look! There’s Batman!”

When he turned to look—gullible much?—Molly ducked under his arm and booked it down the short hallway.

She flung open the door and frantically patted the wall until she found the light switch. Then she stopped in the middle of the room, taking it all in.

This was where Deacon slept. This was where he dreamed. Where he hurt. But this wasn’t a place he chose to f*ck or make love.

Until now. With her.

Large hands landed on her hips. “Batman. Seriously, babe?”

“Hey, you looked.” She paused. “I have to ask you something. Am I really the first woman you’ve had here?”

“I wouldn’t lie about that.”

“I wasn’t accusing you,” she said softly. “I don’t know whether to be nervous or flattered.”

“Neither.”

“Then what? Why me, Deacon?”

“Jesus. You’re here. That’s what matters. Why do you have to dissect it?”

“I don’t.” Molly crossed over to the bed and braced her hands on it. “Wow. This is firm.”

“This is firm too.” Deacon scooted in behind her, rocking his groin into her ass, performing a sexy bump and grind that seemed almost . . . playful for him.

Probably moves he picked up after spending years at strip clubs.

She willed the cynical voice to pipe down.

“Something wrong?” he asked as he brushed his lips against the hollow behind her ear.

“Yeah, there is.”

Deacon froze.

Molly spun in his arms and fisted her hands into his T-shirt. “Let’s christen this room.”

“I plan to. After we eat.”

“You know what they say about the best-laid plans,” she murmured. Her greedy hands followed the hard muscles of his chest, past his chiseled abs to that sexy flexor muscle beneath his hips.

She dropped to her knees. He wore athletic shorts. No belt, no zipper—one tug and his clothing hit the floor—no underwear either.

“What the f*ck, Molly.”

Feeling ornery, she dragged her tongue up his shaft, keeping her eyes on his as she licked the hard, meaty goodness. In the two weeks they’d been together, Deacon had kept his dick away from her mouth . . . and that was stopping right now.

He exhaled loudly. “We—you—can pick this up later. The food will be here shortly.”


“Don’t care.” She teased the head of his cock, flicking her tongue over the sweet spot. Then she parted her lips and slipped the length into her mouth, over her teeth and across her tongue. She sucked experimentally and glanced up to see Deacon’s reaction.

He hissed in a breath and his hand cupped the back of her head. He didn’t use his grip to drive his cock deeper into her mouth; he gripped her hair tightly, as if he needed to hold on.

The taste of him was . . . so perfectly him, so utterly male. Hot and dark. A little salty. A little musky. Smooth. Hard. Molly closed her eyes and savored him, even as she drove him mad with long, slow sucks. She even attempted to work past her gag reflex, wanting to get the whole of him inside her mouth.

“Fuck.” His legs started to tremble.

Imagine that. She could make him weak-kneed. But she wanted more than that. She wanted to hear her name exploding from his mouth as his seed exploded on her tongue.

“Babe,” he panted, “stop.”

Molly ignored him and just kept on taking what she wanted.

When he realized she wasn’t stopping until he came, he became more aggressive. Pulling her hair. Rocking his hips into her face. Muttering dirty things.

She loved it.

“Sweet Christ. Fuck yeah. Feel that. Feel what you’re doin’ to me.”

She felt it; his cock had suddenly gotten harder.

“Gonna come.”

The first splash of heat surprised her, as did Deacon’s hoarse, “Suck hard.”

She swallowed. Again and again, until the jerking pulses stopped. Only after his semihard cock slipped out of her mouth did she feel shy. She rubbed her cheek on the tops of his thighs, loving the rasp of his hair on her skin.

Deacon’s hand fell away.

When Molly finally glanced up at him and saw the fire burning in his eyes, her heart slammed into her throat.

His rough-skinned fingers stroked her face—her cheekbone, her jawline. “You have any idea how f*cking hot it was watching my dick disappearing between these pretty lips?”

“No, I don’t. Tell me.”

“Fuck, woman.” He laughed. A bit shakily. “I don’t know whether to turn you over my knee or get on my knees.”

A chime sounded.

Deacon allowed one last caress before he stepped back and yanked up his shorts. “That’s the food. Don’t move until I get back.”

Screw that. She was not eating chicken salad on her knees.