17. Brynlee
Iwasn’t nervous when I basically proposed to my now husband.
I was no blushing bride when I called in my favor and said my vows in a ceremony that lasted less than five minutes. Even my friend explaining how she was going to handle our marriage license Monday and me thanking her again for pulling all sorts of strings didn’t make me hesitate. But now, standing at the edge of the lake and staring into the light show the fireflies are putting on for me while Deacon escorts Judge Guiliano out, I’m left with a rapidly racing mind I can’t silence.
I just promised myself to a man who barely knows me and certainly doesn’t know the complicated future I could be looking at. And that thought alone gives me my first small niggling of doubt.
Soft footsteps fall in the damp grass behind me, but I don’t turn.
I don’t need to.
I can already tell it’s Deacon from the cadence of his steps. He walks with purpose. Always. And after spending just a few short nights with him, I already know this man doesn’t believe in wasting time in any aspect of his life.
I guess that worked in his favor tonight.
Strong arms wrap around me from behind, and he rests his chin on my head. “How are you feeling, red?”
His words are soft and serious, and my heart pangs in response.
“Like a woman who just got married without any of the fuss or stress of a wedding.” I wrap my arms around his and lean back into the safety of his chest. “I feel strangely... free. Which makes absolutely no sense.”
“You are free. You run this show. You make the rules,” he soothes my slowly fraying nerves.
I turn in his arms and press my palms against his chest, enjoying the weight of his hands on me. “What if I don’t want this to be a show?”
“I’m not following you.” He runs a hand over my hair, tucking a lock behind my ear, and I’m struck by just how hard I’m already falling for this man.
“I guess what I mean is... I know this marriage is for show. At least it will be once we can tell people. But you and me... I want us to be real with each other. I want us to be honest. I think what I’m trying to say is I don’t want it all to be a lie.”
“It’s not all a lie, Brynn. We’re not a lie,” he attempts to reassure me.
“But how can you be so sure?” I ask, unable to settle the thoughts in my head.
“Because a lie wouldn’t feel like this.” Deacon’s eyes flare. “I think it’s time I take you upstairs and reassure you just how much I want my wife.” Before I can argue with him, he throws me over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry and slaps my ass as his long legs quickly eat up the distance to the house.
“You cannot carry me up those stairs...” I argue, staring up at the huge wooden staircase, but this man isn’t listening.
“Like fuck I can’t.” He takes the steps two at a time, then kicks his bedroom door open and tosses me to the bed like a rag doll.
I bounce with a laugh and try to catch my bearings. “You’re crazy...”
“No, baby. You’re the crazy one. But I fucking love it. Now strip.” He pulls his shirt over his head and drops it to the floor before I can move.
I’m lost in the perfection that is my new husband’s chest. Like a golden god, each tanned beautiful muscle is carved to perfection from his pecs to his abs down to the mouthwatering V of his obliques. “Now let me see what’s under that dress, red.” His pupils blow wide with want, and my fears start to subside. “Did you wear pretty panties for me?”
“Maybe,” I taunt without moving. This man has no clue how vast my lingerie collection is, and I think I’m going to have fun teasing him with it. This could be fun.
“Show me,” he demands, and it’s so fucking hot.
Who knew I’d like a bossy man?
He stalks toward the bed, eyes locked on mine, and runs his tongue over his lip, hungry, and my God, his hunger is such a turn-on. Long, rough fingers skim over the bare skin on my shoulder and under the strap of my sundress when he says, “Were you thinking about me...”— his gaze rakes over me, lingering on my mouth for a beat too long before he swallows—“when you got dressed? Did you think about how it would feel when I peeled your clothes off you?”
Both straps are slid down my arms, and I nod, breathless.
Utterly incapable of forming a coherent thought.
“Words, wife. I want to hear you.”
Deacon
Brynlee sits on her knees on the bed, her gorgeous green eyes glazed with need as her delicate fingers play with her top button, and without thinking, I reach for her. Desperate to taste her skin, but my girl slaps my hands away instead.
She pops open the top button on her black linen sundress, then the next one and the next until a scrap of green lace—so dark it rivals the color of her eyes—peeks past the hem. My mouth waters. “I thought of you,” she finally whispers, and her words go right to my already-hard cock.
“Tell me...” I move closer but don’t touch this time. Not yet.
“About whether you’d like lace or silk,” she adds as her hands slide down to the belt tied at her waist. “If you’d like French cut or thong.”
Fucking hell, she’s killing me.
Her hands slide inside the dress, pushing it down until it pools at her feet, and she’s left standing in front of me like a goddess. Dark green lace shimmers against her pale skin, giving teasing glimpses of the forbidden. The hint of a pale pink nipple. The outline of a bare pussy. The damp spot between her legs. “I wondered whether you’d like what you see.”
I step forward without words and watch, a man balancing on a tightrope as Brynlee presses her hot lips to the base of my throat. Fuck. It’s like she’s struck a match, and we’re both watching it burn down, waiting to see who gives in first.
“Brynnlee...” I growl in warning, unsure how much more I can take.
She presses another kiss against my skin before ghosting her lips over mine.
“Our marriage might not be real, Deacon, but I need us to be. Please ...” she pleads, and any control I thought I had disappears along with all the oxygen in the room.
Swallowed whole by the fire.
Slowly... I move so goddamn slowly... slow enough that I can commit every inch of this woman’s body to my memory—so years from now when I’m old, and no doubt alone, I’ll still remember this woman and this night. I slide my hands over her ribs and under her breasts before dragging her closer, needing to feel her against me. Wanting to take my time. To savor her.
She moves closer with each slide of skin on skin.
Each touch, until I bend my knees and cup her face in my hands, bringing us eye to eye. “We are real, red. Nothing has ever been this real. Fuck everyone else.”
She ghosts her lips over mine with a smile. “I’d rather fuck you, Deacon.”
“Crazy girl,” I growl against her mouth. “Tonight, we take our time,” I promise her before my tongue slides against hers. Teasing her. I want to learn every way there is that makes this woman melt. All the ways to coax that sexy sigh out of her again... and again. Every place to kiss. To suck. To bite. I want to earn all her pleasure, so I can own all her orgasms.
The air around us is charged like an electrical storm.
You know the destruction it brings will be massive, but the beauty that comes first is worth the pain.
Our mouths crash together, like a heavy clap of thunder, and I wrap a hand around her head and fist her long hair, deepening our kiss. Controlling it. Running my teeth over her soft lips, swallowing her sighs, and sliding my tongue against hers.
Desperate for this woman who just gave me a piece of herself I didn’t deserve.
This woman who can’t possibly understand what she just gave me.
Brynn pulls her mouth away, panting as her nails score my skin, branding me, and fuck that’s a turn-on. I want her brand. She drags her tongue down the column of my neck and over my pulse as she reaches down and unbuckles my belt and pants.
“Brynn...” I warn as my last fraying strand of restraint threatens to finally snap.
She presses her lips to my chest, just over my heart, then pushes me back and slips off the bed to her knees, dragging my zipper down.
Damn... the wicked smile kissing her lips is fucking gorgeous.
“You gonna be a good girl and take my dick out, wife?”
Her eyes widen, and she cocks her head to the side, regarding me. “Is that a question or a command, husband?” Her long lashes flutter, and swear to God, a man could forget his own name looking at Brynlee St. James on her knees. “Because I kinda like it when you get controlling, but I think I want to see you lose control even more.”
“You haven’t seen controlling yet, Brynlee.”
She smiles so fucking sweetly, I almost miss the pink that floods her cheeks.
With shaking hands, she shoves my boxer briefs down and tries to wrap her fist around my dick.
And when she finally drags her tongue from the base of my cock up to the tip, I give in to the urge I’ve had since that very first night on the beach and wrap her soft, strawberry-blonde hair around my fist and tug.
Brynn moans, and something cracks in my chest. I fucking love that sound.
My spine snaps tight when those pretty pink lips wrap around my cock. Her eyes water, and she hums deep in her chest, then swallows me down her throat, and I’m fucking done for.
This gorgeous woman on her knees is going to be my undoing.
“Brynn...” I growl when my dick hits the back of her throat. “Fuck, baby.”
I lift her up and swallow her protest as I lie her on the bed and climb between her legs, fucking desperate for her. “Condom?” I ask with one shaky word, every inch of me strung tight.
“I wasn’t done,” she pouts.
“Brynlee—” I warn, any semblance of control gone. Shredded at her feet.
“No.” She wraps her legs around my waist and drags her nails down my back. “No condom.” A hum builds deep in her throat as she arches her back and rubs her chest against mine.
This woman was made for me. Every soft curve fits perfectly against the hard planes of my body.
Fucking perfect.
Fucking mine.
“Please... Deacon.” She wraps her arms around my neck, and her tongue meets mine, stroke for stroke. Begging for more with each shaky breath.
I roll us so Brynn straddles me. Her red hair spills softly around pale shoulders tinged pink from a hint of sun. She trembles above me when I drag my tongue along one of her flawless fucking tits—perfect handfuls with pretty pink nipples begging to be sucked.
Her green eyes sparkle as she lifts up on her knees and fists one hand around my cock. She fits me against her hot, wet pussy, then lowers herself down. Slowly. Teasing us both. Taking me inch by slower inch into her tight cunt until I’m filling her completely.
She moans and presses one palm against my chest for leverage as she watches us.
Watches me as I slide inside her.
So fucking tight.
So fucking hot.
I slide my hands over her thighs, my fingertips biting into her soft skin. “You take my cock like such a good girl. Now show me how much you like it, baby.”
Those emerald-green eyes close, and her mouth opens on a silent sob. “You’ve got to give me a second, Deacon...” She inhales a shaky, stuttered breath as her body relaxes, stretching to accommodate me. “It’s too much.”
I wrap an arm around her waist and jackknife up, holding her even closer. Breathing her in each time she breathes out. Wide eyes hold mine as I slowly fuck her.
“You’re fucking perfect, wife.” My tongue traces her bottom lip before I tug it between my teeth. “My fucking wife.”
Her shoulders shake, and she wraps her arms around my neck, clinging to me as the electricity humming around us threatens to destroy us both.
“None of this makes sense, Deacon.” She traces her lips around my ear, then bites down. “But I am yours. For as long as we do this, I’m yours. Only yours.”
An overwhelming, possessive need roars through me, and the final string snaps.
My composure is completely eviscerated.
“I can’t be gentle, Brynn,” I tell her, knowing this woman already owns me.
“Then don’t be and don’t stop,” she whispers against my lips.
“Fuck, red...” I drive up into her over and over, swallowing her moans and holding her impossibly close. We move together against each other. Finding a punishing rhythm.
Pushing us higher and higher until she’s a trembling, sobbing, beautiful mess.
Begging and pleading.
Moaning into my mouth.
Nothing has ever sounded better. Tasted better. Nothing.
“Gonna need you to come for me, baby,” I growl against her mouth and circle her clit with my fingers just before a beautiful sound rips from her throat.
“Deacon. Oh my God. Yes... please. God,” she cries out as shudders rack her beautiful body.
I slow my thrusts, fucking her through her endless orgasm, dragging it out until I’m kissing away her tears as she lies limp, draped in my arms.
But I’m not done.
Not yet. Not ever.
I pull out, and her eyes glaze over as her cum drips down my dick.
“Give me one more, baby,” I tell her before pushing back into her drenched, swollen pussy.
“Jesus, Deacon...” she whimpers as her eyes try to focus.
If someone had told me ten years ago that this would be the woman who would destroy me, I wouldn’t have believed them.
Now I wonder how I fucking missed it all those years ago.
I thrust into her slowly. Achingly slow.
Fucking my wife until she’s left without any doubt of just how real she and I are.
Until it’s just us.
Until Brynlee is right here with me.
Moaning with every snap of my hips.
I want my wife to feel me between her legs for fucking days.
Red-hot heat tugs at the base of my spine as my heart thunders in my chest, and I come on a roar as she splinters and shatters beneath me.
One word whispered over and over in my mind.
Mine.