Deacon
Page 59
And my bed had a slatted head and footboard.
Staring at it, I bit my lower lip.
Then I did what I decided I’d do during the movie.
I went to the nightstands and turned on both lights. After that, I went to the closet, got the ropes, took them to the bed, and dropped them in the middle. That done, I went to my drawer and pulled out one of only three sexy nighties that I owned. A skintight red number made entirely of lace. I also snatched out the matching satin panties.
I took them to the bathroom, changed, washed my face, brushed my teeth, put the toilet seat down, and sat on it, trying not to hyperventilate.
And there I sat.
Waiting.
And just like me, I did it hoping.
But (maybe for the first time in my life), I didn’t have to hope.
Because I had a strong feeling that what I wanted so badly was about to be given to me.
Chapter ThirteenGive the Gratitude
I heard the bedroom door open and my body strung tight.
I waited.
I waited some more.
Then I sucked in a huge breath, got up, and walked to the door.
I opened it, walked out, and stopped, my eyes glued to Deacon.
He was standing by the bed, his eyes to me, and it was a wonder they didn’t incinerate me on the spot.
“Nightie’s sweet,” he said quietly. “I’ll enjoy it another time. Now, take it off, baby.”
He’d seen the ropes.
My heart skipped in my chest and I held his gaze as I took two steps to the bed, stopped, and put my hands to the hem of the nightie. Continuing to hold his eyes, I lifted my arms, pulling it off.
“Panties,” he ordered, his voice getting rough. Just that sound doing good things to my body, I hooked my thumbs in the sides of the panties and pushed them down until they fell to the floor.
I stepped out of them.
“Here,” he demanded, voice now gruff.
I didn’t hesitate and I didn’t backtalk.
I went to him.
He also didn’t hesitate. He put both hands to my hips and slid them back to my ass, leaning in to me to do it.
“You sure you’re ready?” he asked, tone still gruff, but now also sweet.
“Yes,” I answered, and I was. I also wasn’t. There was fear. But there was mostly excited anticipation.
“I play with you, you talk to me. Do not allow shit you don’t want because you think I want it. We go somewhere you don’t like, you say, it ends. Immediately.”
That was what I needed—just what I needed—to beat back the fear.
I leaned in to him, putting my hands on his chest. “Okay, baby.”
“Climb in bed, Cassie. I tie you down first then I play.”
Oh God.
I immediately got wet.
Yeah, no more fear.
I climbed into bed.
Surprising me, Deacon didn’t delay in tying me down. By that I meant he didn’t take his clothes off before he did it.
That said, he did it slow. There were caresses, like when he lifted my arm high and wide, he ran his fingertips up the inside, a ticklish, soft touch that was nevertheless effective.
And then he tied my wrist to the headboard.
To the other side, where he ran his lips up the inside of my arm. No tickle but the touch was definitely effective.
And then he tied that wrist to the headboard.
I had my legs closed, bent, my hips turned slightly to the side, and he ran a hand down my chest, my belly, and up to my hip where he put mild pressure but didn’t force me to move.
He looked from my hip to my face. “Trust me.”
“I do.”
“Then spread for me, Cassie.”
I held his gaze, dropped my hip, uncurled my legs, and spread for him.
He looked down at my body and the word, “Fuck,” came, sounding torn from him.
That was effective too.
His hand slid from my hip, down and in, his fingertips drifting through the wet between my legs, and his eyes sliced back to mine.
“Wet,” he growled.
“Yes,” I agreed.
He slid a finger in and I closed my eyes, my back slightly arching.
“My Cassie,” he whispered, gliding the finger out.
I felt his hand trail down the inside of my thigh, further down, and the bed moved so I looked to see him at the end. He lifted my leg and kissed the inside of my ankle. A shiver ran through me and it became a quiver when he put my leg back to the bed then wound the rope around my ankle.
He tied it to the footboard.
I was trembling, feeling weird, turned on, vulnerable, exposed, certain yet uncertain, trusting and scared, excited, wanting, and anxious when Deacon finished with my other ankle.
He got off the bed and I watched him take off his clothes, his eyes not on my body. They were staring into mine. My eyes moved but only to take in his big man cock that was as beautiful as the rest of him, thick, long, and right then, very hard.
I got wetter.
“You know what this means to me?” he asked, and I looked back to his face.
“I think so,” I mumbled shakily.
“You trustin’ me like this, think about it. I was tied to that bed for you, how would that make you feel?”
My insides melted a different way, tenderness toward him and titillation at the very idea of Deacon doing that for me.
He read me. I knew it when he said, “Yeah. That’s what I’m feelin’ right now, except more,” he put a knee to the bed, his hand splayed at my belly, his face in mine, “because you’re right there, givin’ it all up for me.”
“Honey.”
His lips dropped to mine as his hand slid down.
“Now, I give back.”
I trembled.
His hand slid in, fingers grazing tight over my clit so my hips jerked. Two thrust in.
My limbs tensed against the restraints, my eyes closed, and I dug my head into the pillows as that sang through me.
He left his fingers buried deep and put pressure on my clit with his thumb, but neither moved. “You good?”
I opened my eyes and dipped my chin to look at him.
“Yes,” I breathed.
“You ready?” he asked.
“Totally.”
I saw his eyes smile.
Then he disappeared because he put his lips to my throat.
And Deacon commenced in giving back, way, way more than what I was giving to him.
Absolutely.
He kissed. He licked. He sucked. He nipped. He finger fucked me. He worked my clit.
All through this I squirmed. I strained. My body tightened, and if his fingers were inside, my sex clutched them deeper. Every time that happened I’d get his growl of approval, each one scoring right through me.
Each pull of the ropes sent heat shafting everywhere when my automatic response was thwarted, reminding me I was his to do with as he pleased and I had nothing to give but it all, he had everything to take, and everything to give to me.
Staring at it, I bit my lower lip.
Then I did what I decided I’d do during the movie.
I went to the nightstands and turned on both lights. After that, I went to the closet, got the ropes, took them to the bed, and dropped them in the middle. That done, I went to my drawer and pulled out one of only three sexy nighties that I owned. A skintight red number made entirely of lace. I also snatched out the matching satin panties.
I took them to the bathroom, changed, washed my face, brushed my teeth, put the toilet seat down, and sat on it, trying not to hyperventilate.
And there I sat.
Waiting.
And just like me, I did it hoping.
But (maybe for the first time in my life), I didn’t have to hope.
Because I had a strong feeling that what I wanted so badly was about to be given to me.
Chapter ThirteenGive the Gratitude
I heard the bedroom door open and my body strung tight.
I waited.
I waited some more.
Then I sucked in a huge breath, got up, and walked to the door.
I opened it, walked out, and stopped, my eyes glued to Deacon.
He was standing by the bed, his eyes to me, and it was a wonder they didn’t incinerate me on the spot.
“Nightie’s sweet,” he said quietly. “I’ll enjoy it another time. Now, take it off, baby.”
He’d seen the ropes.
My heart skipped in my chest and I held his gaze as I took two steps to the bed, stopped, and put my hands to the hem of the nightie. Continuing to hold his eyes, I lifted my arms, pulling it off.
“Panties,” he ordered, his voice getting rough. Just that sound doing good things to my body, I hooked my thumbs in the sides of the panties and pushed them down until they fell to the floor.
I stepped out of them.
“Here,” he demanded, voice now gruff.
I didn’t hesitate and I didn’t backtalk.
I went to him.
He also didn’t hesitate. He put both hands to my hips and slid them back to my ass, leaning in to me to do it.
“You sure you’re ready?” he asked, tone still gruff, but now also sweet.
“Yes,” I answered, and I was. I also wasn’t. There was fear. But there was mostly excited anticipation.
“I play with you, you talk to me. Do not allow shit you don’t want because you think I want it. We go somewhere you don’t like, you say, it ends. Immediately.”
That was what I needed—just what I needed—to beat back the fear.
I leaned in to him, putting my hands on his chest. “Okay, baby.”
“Climb in bed, Cassie. I tie you down first then I play.”
Oh God.
I immediately got wet.
Yeah, no more fear.
I climbed into bed.
Surprising me, Deacon didn’t delay in tying me down. By that I meant he didn’t take his clothes off before he did it.
That said, he did it slow. There were caresses, like when he lifted my arm high and wide, he ran his fingertips up the inside, a ticklish, soft touch that was nevertheless effective.
And then he tied my wrist to the headboard.
To the other side, where he ran his lips up the inside of my arm. No tickle but the touch was definitely effective.
And then he tied that wrist to the headboard.
I had my legs closed, bent, my hips turned slightly to the side, and he ran a hand down my chest, my belly, and up to my hip where he put mild pressure but didn’t force me to move.
He looked from my hip to my face. “Trust me.”
“I do.”
“Then spread for me, Cassie.”
I held his gaze, dropped my hip, uncurled my legs, and spread for him.
He looked down at my body and the word, “Fuck,” came, sounding torn from him.
That was effective too.
His hand slid from my hip, down and in, his fingertips drifting through the wet between my legs, and his eyes sliced back to mine.
“Wet,” he growled.
“Yes,” I agreed.
He slid a finger in and I closed my eyes, my back slightly arching.
“My Cassie,” he whispered, gliding the finger out.
I felt his hand trail down the inside of my thigh, further down, and the bed moved so I looked to see him at the end. He lifted my leg and kissed the inside of my ankle. A shiver ran through me and it became a quiver when he put my leg back to the bed then wound the rope around my ankle.
He tied it to the footboard.
I was trembling, feeling weird, turned on, vulnerable, exposed, certain yet uncertain, trusting and scared, excited, wanting, and anxious when Deacon finished with my other ankle.
He got off the bed and I watched him take off his clothes, his eyes not on my body. They were staring into mine. My eyes moved but only to take in his big man cock that was as beautiful as the rest of him, thick, long, and right then, very hard.
I got wetter.
“You know what this means to me?” he asked, and I looked back to his face.
“I think so,” I mumbled shakily.
“You trustin’ me like this, think about it. I was tied to that bed for you, how would that make you feel?”
My insides melted a different way, tenderness toward him and titillation at the very idea of Deacon doing that for me.
He read me. I knew it when he said, “Yeah. That’s what I’m feelin’ right now, except more,” he put a knee to the bed, his hand splayed at my belly, his face in mine, “because you’re right there, givin’ it all up for me.”
“Honey.”
His lips dropped to mine as his hand slid down.
“Now, I give back.”
I trembled.
His hand slid in, fingers grazing tight over my clit so my hips jerked. Two thrust in.
My limbs tensed against the restraints, my eyes closed, and I dug my head into the pillows as that sang through me.
He left his fingers buried deep and put pressure on my clit with his thumb, but neither moved. “You good?”
I opened my eyes and dipped my chin to look at him.
“Yes,” I breathed.
“You ready?” he asked.
“Totally.”
I saw his eyes smile.
Then he disappeared because he put his lips to my throat.
And Deacon commenced in giving back, way, way more than what I was giving to him.
Absolutely.
He kissed. He licked. He sucked. He nipped. He finger fucked me. He worked my clit.
All through this I squirmed. I strained. My body tightened, and if his fingers were inside, my sex clutched them deeper. Every time that happened I’d get his growl of approval, each one scoring right through me.
Each pull of the ropes sent heat shafting everywhere when my automatic response was thwarted, reminding me I was his to do with as he pleased and I had nothing to give but it all, he had everything to take, and everything to give to me.
