Caged (Mastered, #4)(97)

After a while, when he sensed her restlessness, he said, “What?”

“You told me the bad stuff. Tell me something good. About your brother.”

His usual why would you care response didn’t come. He had to accept that now that Molly knew about Dante, she’d want to know more about him.

“Dante and I had exact opposite tempers. I’d get enraged and come out swinging. His anger was a slow burn. The longer it simmered, the hotter he got. So when he finally hit the boiling point, he blew like a volcano.”

“Did you two ever get into knock-down, drag-out fights?”


“As kids? Nah. We had our moments, but they were rare. When we got older, we had different interests but we had the same opinion on most things.” He paused, and the memory came rushing back. “Except this one time, when we were thirteen . . .”

When he finished the story about Dante, the armadillo trap, and the gross of bottle rockets, he had Molly laughing.

It’d been a long time since he’d thought of that. Of the good times and not just the loss of them.

? ? ?

DEACON shouldn’t have been surprised by the nightmare.

One of the main reasons he didn’t talk about the accident was his subconscious came back to bite him in the ass and made him relive it in his sleep too.

It started differently, but it always ended the same way. This go-around, his f*cked-up psyche put Molly in the front seat between him and his brother.

An animated Molly flirted with Dante—who for the first time looked exactly like Deacon at his present age. Deacon had no feelings of jealousy, just relief that his brother approved of his girlfriend. Because god knew Dante hadn’t liked Cassidy.

But when he reached the part of the dream where the tree loomed ahead, the knothole mouth that screamed was Molly’s mouth. When he turned to look at Cassidy passed out in the middle, it was Molly sailing through the windshield.

He screamed and bolted upright in bed.

Then Molly was in his face. “Deacon.”

“You’re alive.” As soon as he said that, he had to look away out of embarrassment.

Of course she’s alive, you dumb f*ck.

“Look at me.”

He shook his head.

“This is why you don’t talk about the accident.” She set her hand on the back of his sweaty neck.

Her cool fingers stroking his fevered skin settled him a little.

“You had a nightmare like this in Nebraska. That afternoon you made me sleep. When I woke up, you were gone. I thought I’d heard a scream, but I figured I’d imagined it.”

“No, you didn’t. That one was particularly bad. And I needed . . .” To get away. Like I do now. When Deacon scooted toward the edge of the bed, intending to escape, Molly threw her leg over his hips and forcefully pushed him flat on the mattress.

“Lie still.”

“Molly—”

“It’s my right as your lover to touch you in passion and in pain.” Her hands journeyed down his chest. “You’re in pain, Deacon. Let me give you something else to think about.”

Her silky hair trailed down the center of his torso, following in the wake of her kisses. She took his soft cock in her mouth, sucking and tonguing the flesh until it began to harden.

It didn’t take long for his cock to become fully erect with the expert way she worked him over.

Her hair was a curtain masking his view. He snagged a handful of the dark tresses and yanked to get her attention. The wet warmth surrounding his dick disappeared. Her gaze met his.

Deacon said, “I want to watch you.”

She circled the rim of his cockhead with her tongue and lightly suckled. Then she brought his shaft into her mouth slowly until the entire length was buried deep enough the head touched the back of her throat. She swallowed once.

He groaned. “Jesus. That feels so f*cking good.”

Then Molly released him in that same leisurely manner until his dick was wet, throbbing, and entirely out of her mouth. “I know you like to watch me blowing you. But this time I want you to close your eyes and let me have my way with you. Do nothing but feel how much I love touching you like this.”

Like he’d ever say no to that. Deacon traced the edge of her jaw down to her chin, moving his fingers to outline her lips, which were so close to his cock he felt her fast breath teasing the wet tip. “Okay.”

A secretive smile curled those full lips. She placed one hand in the center of his chest and pushed until he was flat on the mattress. Her hair fell, covering her face.

But then the heat and suction returned, and Deacon gave himself over to it.

Molly’s hand jacked his shaft, rising up with hard pulls to meet her tight, wet mouth sliding down. Every few strokes, her fingers would drop between his legs to fondle his balls. Or to rub the section of skin between his sac and his *.

It should’ve embarrassed him, how much he liked that touch. But it made him even hotter that no part of his body was off-limits to her, the same as every inch of her was his to taste and touch.

Coherent thought morphed into silent pleas for her not to stop. His body jerked. His hips shot up. Goose bumps erupted when she paused to plant wet kisses on the insides of his thighs as she raked the outsides with her fingernails.

He f*cking loved it. She understood he didn’t need a sweet and reverent blow job. He needed urgency, a tiny spark of pain, and being reminded that she’d taken control.