Caged (Mastered, #4)(75)
The post-workout musk of Deacon’s body filled her lungs with a giddy sense of possession. Now she knew his scent intimately. His taste was addictive, the hint of salt from his sweat, the underlying sweetness of the protein bars he ate all day, and the dark flavor of the man himself that no mints or gum could mask.
He kissed her harder, pulling her closer. His happiness had shifted into hunger.
Molly found her back against the cement wall and one hundred and eighty-five pounds of turned-on fighter grinding against her. And like always, when faced with his passion, she melted into him.
Deacon shifted until he could fit the upper section of his thigh between hers. He slowed the kiss and moved his mouth to her ear. “I’ve had a shit day. And I was thinking . . . I can’t wait to see my woman.” His breath left his mouth in ragged bursts of air. “Can’t wait to touch her. Can’t wait to slide inside her deep. Can’t wait to lose myself in her. Gotta be fate or karma or something. I was thinking of you, babe, and here you are.”
She released a little squeak when he nipped her neck.
“Fuck, I love that noise.” Then he heaved himself away from her and grabbed her hand. “Come on.”
“Where are we going?”
“Someplace more private,” he said as he started up the stairs. When they reached the fourth floor, Deacon swiped the ID/keycard he wore on a lanyard around his neck down the lock. The green light flashed and he pushed the door open.
The training area was eerily quiet. Every time she’d been up here, the sounds of striking echoed from corner to corner.
Deacon towed her around a curtain used to divide the spaces and into a small area that resembled a study room in a library. Blue light spilled across the lone table from the emergency light in the corner.
As soon as he shut the door, he was on her. Devouring her mouth, one hand clamped on her ass, the other freeing the buttons on her blouse. His frantic kisses made it impossible for her to catch her breath.
Molly put her hands on either side of his face and pulled him back to break the seal of their mouths. “Deacon,” she whispered against his lips.
He buried his face in her neck. “I need you like this.”
His desperation inflamed her. Later she’d worry about what in his day had gotten him to this point. “How naked are we getting?”
He tugged his muscle shirt over his head. He kissed her wildly as he unbuttoned her blouse and freed her breasts. Then, after he slid his hands under her skirt to remove her panties, he growled, “This is all I’ve got patience for.” He pushed her backward until her butt connected with the table.
Deacon didn’t have to direct her; she knew what he wanted. She shifted one buttock onto the table and then the other. Her skirt rode up and Deacon’s hands were shoving the material out of the way, baring her * to him.
His fingers teased the insides of her thighs, making her tremble, making her ache for a more complete touch. He used the little things he’d learned about her shamelessly and constantly found new ways to drive her crazy.
After a lip-tingling kiss, he dragged his mouth down the side of her throat. Once his wandering hands reached the juncture of her thighs, he drew his knuckle through her wetness. His low-pitched hum reverberated against the upper swell of her breast as he lowered her down.
When Molly’s head fell back, her hair spilled over the edges of the table. The hot fire of his mouth engulfed her nipple as his cock breached her body.
She arched into him. Yes. So good. Every time.
Deacon held on to her hips as he started to power up. The long, slow glide gave way to harder thrusts. He moved his mouth back and forth across her nipples, nipping with his teeth and sucking hard, then switching to achingly soft kisses and rubbing the scruff on his cheeks over the mounds of flesh as he pounded into her.
Sometimes he talked when he f*cked her, whispering dirty words, sweet words, nonsensical words. She loved that. But his mouth worshipping her breasts needed no words. Although they were alone in the vast space, remaining quiet as they surrendered to the driving need heightened the fervor.
The legs on the table creaked as Deacon’s damp, muscled body ground down on hers with every dedicated thrust.
With one hand curled around the nape of his neck, she flung her other arm above her head, her fingers clamping to the edge of the table to keep from sliding off. Her body was a live wire, electrified by the sucking pressure of his mouth. His firm grip on her hips kept her from thrashing, reminding her that he was in control.
More. Please. I need . . .
As if he’d read her mind, his rough-skinned hand moved across her belly and down her slit to where they were joined. Then his thumb, wet with her juices, circled her clit in the same pattern as his tongue on her nipple.
So close. She whimpered and canted her hips.
Deacon didn’t miss a stroke as he spread her legs wider, giving her the friction she needed. “You’re there. Give it to me.”
The orgasm ricocheted through her—a hot detonation that throbbed with such force she swore her eyeballs pulsed. Her body was so revved up she couldn’t slump back and bask.
Then Deacon buried his face in her neck, pumping his hips fast. She felt the heat of his release, her spasming walls milking him as he came in a drawn-out groan.
Sometimes Deacon immediately pulled out and brought her tissues to clean herself up. But today she silently begged him to stay put, needing this connection with him as long as possible.