Chapter 29
~Daley~
Very little compares to the sense of power that comes from holding a man’s cock in your hands.
The trust implicit in it along with the ability to bring him pleasure or pain in an instant intoxicates me, an aphrodisiac on its own.
With the cock attached to a man like Deacon Belin, my satisfaction intensifies dramatically.
So, when he rises from the kitchen chair and offers me his hand, I take it without hesitation. He takes my weight easily as I pull myself up, as solid and immovable as a brick wall.
“Bedroom,” he grunts, his grey eyes still hazy with the remnants of his orgasm.
“The food…” I try to protest, knowing that if we leave the kitchen again, we aren’t coming back any time soon.
“I’ll take care of it. Go to your room, take off that robe and lie face-down on the bed. Make yourself comfortable.”
I’m not sure exactly what he has in mind, but every word sends another tingle of anticipation through my body, and I don’t make any other complaint, turning and heading back down the hall as instructed.
He gave me full control while I brought him to climax but has now taken it back, fully and completely, in just a few sentences.
It’s new to me, this give and take, a natural ebb and flow between us based not on age or experience or physical strength but a mutual respect and understanding I haven’t truly felt with anyone before.
Definitely not so quickly, and not so deeply either.
Something inside me responds to him on a molecular level, like a resonant neuron reacting to its most important frequency.
It’s biology.
It’s chemistry.
It’s something bigger than both of those and I’m eager for more.
Creases still line the bedspread from our earlier exertions, and I take a moment to tug on the edges and straighten everything out before realizing there’s no point.
Whatever Deacon has in mind will undoubtedly mess them up again, so I abandon my efforts and slip out of my robe before lying down on my stomach in the centre of the bed with a pillow beneath my head.
Every creak of the floorboards sends my pulse racing as I wait for Deacon to arrive. Need throbs between my legs and I can barely remember why I ever thought this wasn’t a good idea in the first place. I want him so badly.
At last, his soft footsteps approach, flipping off the lights as he goes until only the one in my bedroom remains on. I can tell the exact moment he reaches the doorway from the deep intake of breath across the room.
“Now there’s a sight for sore eyes if I ever saw one.”
My cheeks warm against the cool pillow. His energy has clearly returned; he sounds strong and in control.
“Are your eyes sore?” I try to tease, but the wobble in my voice sounds almost desperate instead.
“Not as sore as my back,” he answers, stepping over to the bed and running his warm hand lightly across my lower back, just above my ass. “How’s yours? You stood for a long time today.”
We both did, standing at the table and bending over to conduct the experiments. “It’s a little stiff.”
His hand immediately presses down harder, thumb kneading into the muscle, and I groan in pleasure before I can stifle it.
Deacon chuckles. “Fuck, I love that sound.”
“You’re not playing fair when you… ohhhh.”
My words trail off into another deep, guttural groan as he digs into the muscle with both hands.
As good as his touch feels between my legs, this is almost better.
I don’t remember the last time anyone massaged me; maybe about ten years ago when Jane got me a coupon to use during one of my trips to Bismarck?
But that had been a young woman, a little brusque and very workmanlike, and I never fully relaxed, not like I do beneath Deacon’s skilled fingers.
“I guess that means I should keep going.” Deacon sounds thoroughly amused, but a hint of desire lingers in his tone. There’s no doubt where he wants this to end, and I’m happy to go along for the ride. “Do you have any oil?”
I do, sitting in a drawer along with other personal items that I’ve always been careful to hide out of sight of my son, particularly when he was younger and liked to go snooping around.
Deacon’s not my son, though; he’s a man who’s already intimately familiar with my body, so what does it matter if he sees some of the things I like to use on it?
“There’s a drawer inside the cupboard in my dresser, on the left-hand side. The key is in the jewellery tray on top of the dresser.”
If he finds the instructions odd, he doesn’t say so. I turn my head so I can watch him, and when he unlocks the door and pulls out the drawer, his lips pull into a full smile. “Excellent.”
I don’t have to ask what he means when he pulls out not only a bottle of scented oil but my silicone rabbit vibrating dildo as well. Without a hint of embarrassment or insecurity, he hands me the toy.
“Show me what settings you like.”
Trying to act as if this is something I discuss with other people all the time, I press the button to turn it on and set it to the lowest vibrating and rotating setting. Chances are I’m not going to need all that much help with Deacon involved.
With the device now vibrating, I hand it back to him and he gently parts my legs, taking a moment to rub the dildo’s soft tip back and forth up my slit a few times before pressing it gently inside me.
It slides in easily, my body already eager simply from Deacon’s nearness.
Slowly, he twists it back and forth until the rabbit ears are hitting my clit perfectly, a fact I confirm with another soft moan.
“Try to keep it there,” he instructs, turning his attention to the massage oil bottle. The cap pops open and he pours a large drop into his big hands. “If you need to move it, tell me. I’ll do it.”
“Okay,” I agree, nearly breathless with pleasure already and he hasn’t even started yet.
The bed dips beside as Deacon kneels on the mattress, swinging one leg across my hips so that he’s straddling my ass. His cock presses against me, his weight pushing me down into the soft mattress and increasing the pressure of the vibrator against my clit.
“Can you breathe?” he asks. “Am I too heavy?”
“No, you’re g-good,” I stutter out, not sounding very convincing at all. My shortness of breath doesn’t stem from his weight, though. It’s everything else he’s doing that has me panting.
Just when I think it can’t get any better, Deacon leans forward and wraps his oily hands around my shoulders, applying the most exquisite pressure onto the tense muscles beneath his fingertips, and I almost melt into a puddle right there.
“That feels so good,” I moan, no longer caring what I sound like. I just need him to keep touching me.
And he does. Minute after minute, he rubs my body, easing tension I didn’t even know was there, all while the vibrator keeps up a steady rhythm between my legs.
When he reaches my ass, shuffling himself further down the bed, he kneads at the cheeks, shifting the position of the dildo slightly with each movement he makes.
My need begins to build higher and I squirm beneath him, a fact that doesn’t go unnoticed.
“Where do you need it?” he asks roughly, taking hold of the dildo and pressing it more firmly against my clit, twisting it again so it mimics the way his fingers touched me earlier. “Here?”
“Yes. Thrust it too,” I beg, spreading my legs wider for him.
He obeys, working the dildo like it’s his cock, moving in and out with a twisting motion at the end to ensure my clit feels it too.
I’m close, the edge in sight, but I can’t seem to reach it until one of his oiled fingers presses against my asshole.
It slips inside, just the tip, at the same time the dildo presses fully into me again, and my pleasure crests.
My thighs clench around him as my body contracts, and he gently pulls the dildo back so he doesn’t overstimulate me.
“Well, if I needed any encouragement to get hard again, that just fucking did it,” he tells me, his voice husky with his own need as he switches the dildo off. “You’re breathtaking when you let go, you know that?”
No one has ever used that word before, but I don’t argue with him as he shifts his weight above me again.
The dildo slips out entirely and his cock takes its place, sliding easily into my wetness.
It might not vibrate like the dildo does, but the length and width and warmth of him is a hundred times better.
“This isn’t going to take long,” he warns me. “You’ve got me so fucking hard, Daley.”
“Don’t worry about me,” I mumble, still utterly satisfied. I’ve already come twice tonight and my limbs feel liquid. “Take what you need.”
His grunt sounds almost feral as his hands grip my hips and he begins to fuck me hard and fast. Pleasure fills every inch of me knowing that I’m giving him the same satisfaction he just bestowed on me, and when he comes, a deep contentment envelops me.
It can’t be much past nine o’clock but the weight of the day bears down on me so hard, I can barely keep my eyes open.
Vaguely, I’m aware of Deacon helping me to the bathroom, washing my back free of the massage oil and cleaning gently between my legs, before he takes me back to bed.
It feels cold there without him, but before long, the light goes off and he joins me, wrapping me in his arm against him just like he did in Las Vegas.
This time, however, I won’t be leaving before he wakes.
This time, we’ll face the new day together.