26. Char
CHAR
The instant he crashed his lips to mine, I allowed him to drag me under.
His tongue infiltrated my mouth, sliding along the roof of it as my thighs parted effortlessly for him.
His large, rough hands gripped my robe, snapping stitches with every tug as he removed it from my body.
He spread my legs, his calluses splayed against my knees as the feeling of his jeans slicked their way against my skin.
He sucked on my tongue before he drew back, and the way his eyes devoured me ignited a fire in my gut.
“Fucking hell, woman,” he growled as he began shedding his clothes, “what a lovely distraction you’ll be.”
I watched as his entire body came into view for me.
His twitching muscles. The tattoos etched all across his chest. His cock, standing at attention, already dripping from its tip.
I wanted to taste him. I licked my lips as I imagined what his dick might feel like filling my throat.
And as he reached his hand into the shower, his eyes didn’t once pull away from me.
Even as he turned on the hot water.
“Now,” he said as he stalked back toward me, “get over here.”
“Oh!” I squeaked as he yanked me off the countertop.
I clung to him, wrapping myself around his naked body as he held me against him with only one arm.
He led us into the shower, sliding the door closed behind us before steam enveloped our forms. It felt good to be blanketed away from the world.
Lost in our own little reality as his lips explored my body.
Hot water battered my back as his lips sank down my neck.
My toes curled as my heels pressed into the small of his back, making his muscles flutter all the way up his spine.
He sank to the floor, sucking patches of my skin between his teeth as he propped my back against the shower wall.
“Deacon,” I said breathlessly, “oh fuck.”
He growled against the crook of my neck. “Keep your hungry eyes on me, little one.”
I did as he asked, even though they were half-hooded and ready to close. “Yes, Mr. Deacon.”
He growled as he stood. I felt the shower water pivoting in multiple directions before a ticking sound pulled my gaze up to him. I watched him changing up the waterspouts coming out of the showerhead. A fine mist turned into an overall spray, and little by little, the stream of water sharpened.
His darkened stare fell back down to me.
“Spread those legs, little one. I wanna see that hungry cunt.”
His gravelly voice stirred my gut and I parted them, just as he asked.
I wanted to be his good girl. I wanted to be used by him.
I wanted to lose myself in him and, just for a few moments, act like the world outside didn’t exist. He sat on the ground, bringing the showerhead with him before he inched forward.
With my legs lazily wrapped around him and his eyes locked with my pussy, his hand splayed across my stomach.
It inched down to explore my lower lips.
“Deacon,” I whispered.
He parted my pussy with his fingers. “Mm, mm, mm. Wouldja look at her.”
“Oh.”
He traced his finger along my entrance. “She’s already pulsing for me.”
I bucked my hips. “Please.”
“Ah, ah, ah,” he said as he withdrew his hand, “eagerness gets you nowhere right now.”
I kicked my legs as a soft whimper fell from my lips. “Deac, please.”
He spanked the inside of my thigh and it made me yelp.
“Ah!”
“Mr. Deacon, to you,” he glowered.
My gaze connected with his. “Please, Mr. Deacon. Let me feel you.”
“And you will,” he said as he turned the showerhead toward the inside of my legs, “after I’m done with you, of course.”
“Mr. Deacon, what are y—yooooou—oooooh—oh, oh, oh my God.”
My legs shook uncontrollably as the waterspout battered my clit. My head fell back, causing Deac to growl before he wrapped his hand around my throat.
“Eyes on me, you little cumslut.”
My legs jerked as my body raced toward my first orgasm. “Mr. Deacon. Mr. Deacon. It’s too—too much. I can’t—it’s—already—Deac. Deac. Deacon! Fuck!”
“Eyes. On. Me,” he growled as his fingertips clamped harder against my pulse points.
I forced my stare to stay on him as my orgasm crashed against me.
My jaw unhinged and my eyes probably looked wild as I sat there, forcing them to stay open with sheer willpower.
He moved the stream away from my clit, allowing my body to settle while I caught my breath.
He slid his hand away from my neck and down my breasts, teasing them and stroking my nipples until they were harder than his dick.
Then his hand dropped to my pussy, and I felt one of his fingers teasing my entrance.
“Please, Mr. Deacon,” I whimpered.
“One knuckle for one orgasm.”
“No, I need more. I-I-I—I need?—”
“Then be a good whore and give me another one, yeah?”
My back arched as the stream found its way back to my clit.
Feeling just part of his finger inside of me was torturous.
It drove me mad as he kept chanting for me to keep my eyes on him.
The sensations overwhelmed me. My toes curled and my body bucked, wanton for more of him.
I scratched my fingers against the wet shower floor.
I pressed my heels into his back, trying to draw him closer.
Yet all he did was lean away from me while pushing that stream of water closer to my aching mound.
“Deacon! Right there!”
“There it is,” he growled, “such a good girl for me. Come on, you can do it. Earn that second knuckle.”
“Oh fuck,” I choked out.
“Eyes on me, little one,” he growled.
My body spun out of control, and it took every ounce of energy left inside of me to keep my eyes on him.
His finger slid in deeper, crooking and sending me spiraling into the endless abyss as the water continued to assault my clit.
My eyes rolled back. I couldn’t even help it, and I didn’t care.
My eyes rolled back and my body locked out, and all I knew was his finger stroking me as my body unraveled.
“Ooooooh my Goooooood,” I droned.
His lips crashed to mine as the showerhead clattered to the floor.
My entire body quaked against him as water sprayed against the walls, showering us from the side.
Our tongues melded together. My body molded to his as he sank against me.
He scooped me up, pulling me upright and propping me against the shower wall.
My body quivered with ecstasy.
“All right,” he murmured as he stood, “let’s see if we can’t get you cleaned up a bit. I think someone’s ready for a nap, don’t you?”
Even with my half-hooded eyes and my tired body, I watched his heavy dick swing.
Not too hard, not too soft. Just right in my opinion.
It was like watching a pendulum, back and forth, with every movement he took.
And as he placed the showerhead back in its rightful holder with the water stream back on its regular setting, I took a chance.
“Not so fast,” I murmured as I got onto my knees.
“Here, let me help. You’re gonna be a bit?—”
“This time,” I said as I wrapped my arms around his waist, “I get to repay the favor.”
And before he had a chance to protest, I sucked his dick in between my lips as if I were devouring my only meal of the day.
Only to feel his hand bury itself into the wet tendrils of my hair.