Show Me How
Page 48
I lifted my hips from the bed when he pulled at my shorts, and exhaled shakily when he moved in a line down my stomach and spread my thighs.
“Deacon.” I swallowed thickly, and tried to ignore the way my heart was racing and chest was heaving with each ragged breath.
Because I wanted this. My body was screaming for me to let him to continue. But this . . .
I didn’t know how to let him do this.
Brown eyes met mine, his face just above my hips. “Say the word.” But even though his tone held so much promise, as he spoke he pushed my legs until my knees were bent and feet were planted on the bed. “Say the word, and I’ll hold you for the rest of the night.”
My head shook quickly as I fought with what I wanted and what I was too ashamed to allow to happen. “No, that’s not—I can’t—I don’t—I’ve never,” I said quickly, stumbling over the words. “He never . . .” I trailed off when Deacon’s brows arched up, and then a determined and possessive look slowly covered that handsome, handsome face.
A wicked grin tugged at his mouth as he pushed himself farther back, and then lowered himself until I could feel his breath against me when he said, “Wrong word.”
My back arched away from the bed and my hands fisted in the comforter when his tongue moved from my entrance to my clit. My skin covered with goose bumps as his tongue continued to torture me in a way I’d never imagined possible, and the warmth in my belly suddenly felt white-hot.
One of my hands shot to his head, my fingers wove into his hair and gripped when he pressed two fingers inside me. “Oh God!” I said breathlessly. “Deacon!”
I felt him smile against me before he resumed the sweet suffering.
It was too much. The soft and the hard and the feel of his smiles and silent laughters when I would gasp out a plea or curse from it all.
Something low in my stomach tightened, and that warmth burned hotter and hotter until that too felt like it was too much. My breathing hitched and my toes curled, trying to find some purchase in the comforter. My chest moved raggedly with my uneven breaths until it halted as my breathing stopped altogether . . .
And then came out with a rush when Deacon’s mouth and hand disappeared.
I felt his loss on more than a physical level. It felt like my body was screaming at him to come back and continue, when I couldn’t speak at all.
I threw one of my hands over my face when his wicked grin came into view as he moved over me. I needed to block that heated stare from seeing exactly how much I’d enjoyed that, when I was still completely mortified by it and embarrassed by the way my body craved more. I didn’t want to know that my inexperience was amusing to him when I knew all too well about his experience.
The sound of clothes being removed and hitting the floor was the only thing that joined my uneven breathing for a while before I felt his hands gently moving my shirt that he’d left rolled up on my chest earlier.
“Beautiful. You’re so damn beautiful, Charlie.” Deacon sounded like a blind man seeing the sun for the first time. My name left his lips like a prayer.
None of the teasing I’d expected. No condescending tone.
None of the old Deacon I kept worrying would show up again.
Relief flooded me at his words, and my lips twitched into a smile. I kept my eyes shut when he slid the shirt over my arms and head, and let it fall to the floor as well.
He settled himself between my legs, a soft whimper moved up my throat when he pressed his length against me. “You walking?” he murmured as his mouth brushed across mine in the softest, sweetest kiss.
I curled my hands around his face when he rested his forehead on mine, and shook my head. “No.”
No, I was seeing everything Deacon couldn’t admit because he didn’t know how. I was enjoying living in this moment and being loved by a man like Deacon Carver while loving him the best way I knew how . . . with my eyes shut.
A low growl built in his chest when I curled my legs around his waist and lifted my hips so the tip of him slid against my entrance. “Christ, Charlie.”
He pushed in the slightest bit, and reached between our bodies to brush his fingers against where I was aching and craving him, but stopped when I attempted to bite back a moan.
“Tell me if you’re not ready,” he pled gently. “Tell me, or I’m making you mine, and you’re done walking away from me.”
“Are you waiting for me to change my mind or trying to give me time to remember my promise to myself?” I whispered, and slowly opened my eyes and found his directly above me. I continued to cradle his face for a brief moment, then let my hands slide to his neck and across his shoulders. “If you have no intention of giving me your heart, then don’t do this to mine. But my heart was yours even when you weren’t ready for it, so take it or let me—”
Deacon’s mouth crashed down onto mine, swallowing my shocked cry when he forced his thick length inside me.
Like no time had passed at all, that tight feeling in my stomach was back, and the heat felt like it might consume me as my body adjusted to his.
But, oh God, when he moved . . .
I never knew it could be like that. I never knew it could feel like it was not enough and too much, and like he was holding back—leaving me seconds from begging for more—while high-pitched moans kept escaping me from the intensity of it all, all at once.
Sex with Ben had been fast and to the point, and I’d thought at the time that it had been everything I could ever want. But he had never touched me. He’d never left my body feeling like it might burst if he didn’t continue touching me, and like it might fall apart if he didn’t stop.
This was perfection.
Deacon’s movements slowed, the unhurried roll of his hips brought him deeper and deeper inside.
That heat swirled and built until my body felt like it was strung so tightly I was sure I was going to shatter.
My breathing grew ragged and uneven, and one by one I pressed my fingers firmly against his shoulders and back, somehow knowing that I was going to need to hold on.
A short, broken huff was forced from my chest when he pushed in harder, and my grip tightened, eyes fluttered shut, and head fell back onto the bed. “Deacon,” I breathed, my voice barely making a sound. “Deac—” My arms and legs locked up and my fingers dug into his skin just as my body began vibrating.
“That’s it,” he breathed against my neck, and slid himself into me again and again. “That’s it, Charlie, let go.”
“Deacon.” I swallowed thickly, and tried to ignore the way my heart was racing and chest was heaving with each ragged breath.
Because I wanted this. My body was screaming for me to let him to continue. But this . . .
I didn’t know how to let him do this.
Brown eyes met mine, his face just above my hips. “Say the word.” But even though his tone held so much promise, as he spoke he pushed my legs until my knees were bent and feet were planted on the bed. “Say the word, and I’ll hold you for the rest of the night.”
My head shook quickly as I fought with what I wanted and what I was too ashamed to allow to happen. “No, that’s not—I can’t—I don’t—I’ve never,” I said quickly, stumbling over the words. “He never . . .” I trailed off when Deacon’s brows arched up, and then a determined and possessive look slowly covered that handsome, handsome face.
A wicked grin tugged at his mouth as he pushed himself farther back, and then lowered himself until I could feel his breath against me when he said, “Wrong word.”
My back arched away from the bed and my hands fisted in the comforter when his tongue moved from my entrance to my clit. My skin covered with goose bumps as his tongue continued to torture me in a way I’d never imagined possible, and the warmth in my belly suddenly felt white-hot.
One of my hands shot to his head, my fingers wove into his hair and gripped when he pressed two fingers inside me. “Oh God!” I said breathlessly. “Deacon!”
I felt him smile against me before he resumed the sweet suffering.
It was too much. The soft and the hard and the feel of his smiles and silent laughters when I would gasp out a plea or curse from it all.
Something low in my stomach tightened, and that warmth burned hotter and hotter until that too felt like it was too much. My breathing hitched and my toes curled, trying to find some purchase in the comforter. My chest moved raggedly with my uneven breaths until it halted as my breathing stopped altogether . . .
And then came out with a rush when Deacon’s mouth and hand disappeared.
I felt his loss on more than a physical level. It felt like my body was screaming at him to come back and continue, when I couldn’t speak at all.
I threw one of my hands over my face when his wicked grin came into view as he moved over me. I needed to block that heated stare from seeing exactly how much I’d enjoyed that, when I was still completely mortified by it and embarrassed by the way my body craved more. I didn’t want to know that my inexperience was amusing to him when I knew all too well about his experience.
The sound of clothes being removed and hitting the floor was the only thing that joined my uneven breathing for a while before I felt his hands gently moving my shirt that he’d left rolled up on my chest earlier.
“Beautiful. You’re so damn beautiful, Charlie.” Deacon sounded like a blind man seeing the sun for the first time. My name left his lips like a prayer.
None of the teasing I’d expected. No condescending tone.
None of the old Deacon I kept worrying would show up again.
Relief flooded me at his words, and my lips twitched into a smile. I kept my eyes shut when he slid the shirt over my arms and head, and let it fall to the floor as well.
He settled himself between my legs, a soft whimper moved up my throat when he pressed his length against me. “You walking?” he murmured as his mouth brushed across mine in the softest, sweetest kiss.
I curled my hands around his face when he rested his forehead on mine, and shook my head. “No.”
No, I was seeing everything Deacon couldn’t admit because he didn’t know how. I was enjoying living in this moment and being loved by a man like Deacon Carver while loving him the best way I knew how . . . with my eyes shut.
A low growl built in his chest when I curled my legs around his waist and lifted my hips so the tip of him slid against my entrance. “Christ, Charlie.”
He pushed in the slightest bit, and reached between our bodies to brush his fingers against where I was aching and craving him, but stopped when I attempted to bite back a moan.
“Tell me if you’re not ready,” he pled gently. “Tell me, or I’m making you mine, and you’re done walking away from me.”
“Are you waiting for me to change my mind or trying to give me time to remember my promise to myself?” I whispered, and slowly opened my eyes and found his directly above me. I continued to cradle his face for a brief moment, then let my hands slide to his neck and across his shoulders. “If you have no intention of giving me your heart, then don’t do this to mine. But my heart was yours even when you weren’t ready for it, so take it or let me—”
Deacon’s mouth crashed down onto mine, swallowing my shocked cry when he forced his thick length inside me.
Like no time had passed at all, that tight feeling in my stomach was back, and the heat felt like it might consume me as my body adjusted to his.
But, oh God, when he moved . . .
I never knew it could be like that. I never knew it could feel like it was not enough and too much, and like he was holding back—leaving me seconds from begging for more—while high-pitched moans kept escaping me from the intensity of it all, all at once.
Sex with Ben had been fast and to the point, and I’d thought at the time that it had been everything I could ever want. But he had never touched me. He’d never left my body feeling like it might burst if he didn’t continue touching me, and like it might fall apart if he didn’t stop.
This was perfection.
Deacon’s movements slowed, the unhurried roll of his hips brought him deeper and deeper inside.
That heat swirled and built until my body felt like it was strung so tightly I was sure I was going to shatter.
My breathing grew ragged and uneven, and one by one I pressed my fingers firmly against his shoulders and back, somehow knowing that I was going to need to hold on.
A short, broken huff was forced from my chest when he pushed in harder, and my grip tightened, eyes fluttered shut, and head fell back onto the bed. “Deacon,” I breathed, my voice barely making a sound. “Deac—” My arms and legs locked up and my fingers dug into his skin just as my body began vibrating.
“That’s it,” he breathed against my neck, and slid himself into me again and again. “That’s it, Charlie, let go.”
