Once she’d become engrossed in the words, she forced herself to go slow and tease him. Touching herself like she wanted Deacon to touch her. Trailing her fingers between her hip bones. Pinching her nipples. Biting her lip as she arched into her own caresses.
Almost too soon her sex became hot and slick. The need for friction had her rubbing her thighs together. But that wasn’t enough. She spread her legs and glided her middle finger up and down her slit, separating her flesh, priming herself.
When she reached the part in the book where the hero went down on the heroine for the first time, Molly quickly moved her finger over her clit. It made her so hot that after the heroine’s first explosive orgasm, the hero kept sucking on her pussy, driving her to orgasm again and again, showing her how an alpha male took care of his woman. Somehow she knew Deacon would be just like that. And that made her hotter yet.
That tightening sensation began behind her pubic bone. As the heroine thrashed on the bed, begging her lover to enter her, Molly had the same sense of frustration. Then the hero finally plowed inside, fucking the heroine with the force of a battering ram.
Molly pushed a finger into her pussy and slid the base of her thumb back and forth over her clit, grinding down until she came, gasping. But it ended too soon. If the hero could give his woman two back-to-back orgasms, she’d use her hand and BOB to get that for herself.
Tossing her digital reader aside, she reached into her nightstand and pulled out her personal massager. She cranked it to high, outlining her pussy lips with the pointed tip.
Images flashed behind her closed eyelids. Deacon ordering her to spread her legs wider, his fingertips digging into the tops of her thighs with enough force to leave tiny bruises. Deacon belly crawling up the mattress, shoving his tongue into her pussy. Then those compelling blue eyes of his locked to hers as he feasted on her and fucked her with his mouth.
Molly clutched the vibrator and began to move the head around, delaying that first moment of pleasure even as she craved the instantaneous explosion of it. Whimpers stuck in her throat as she tried to keep them from becoming needy moans.
So close, so close, so close.
Her body couldn’t hold off any longer. She arched when the first pulse hit with enough power to make her cry out. She found herself holding her breath until that last hard throb. Then she gasped, air filling her lungs, her head buzzing as loudly as her vibrator.
Once her heart stopped racing and her breathing leveled out, she blindly reached out to set her vibrator aside. Her hand connected with something solid and warm on the side of the bed.
Deacon.
Soft lips brushed her forehead, her temples, the corners of her lips. “Fucking hot, babe.”
Still floating in the fuzzy aftermath of her orgasm, she reached for his hand and peered at him from beneath her lashes. “Show me how you touch yourself.”
Deacon’s eyes were molten as he lowered the zipper, and his camo shorts whooshed to the floor. “Lick it,” he said gruffly, holding his palm closer to her mouth.
Licking and nibbling on his rough and warm skin, she relished his taste: salt and musk.
He dragged the rough fingertips of his other hand across her breasts. When she sucked his pinkie into her mouth, he said, “Enough.”
Then Deacon wrapped the damp palm around his cock, showing her how he primed himself, with long, slow pulls, from root to tip. Then he started to stroke without pause.
The sound of his hand slapping his own flesh was one of the sexiest things she’d ever heard. Watching him was one of the hottest things she’d ever seen. The way his eyes glittered. The sheen of sweat on his shaved head. The dichotomy of the hard set of his jaw and the soft set of his lips. All a visual feast.
A groaned, “Fuck yeah,” accompanied the first warm splat on her breast. He jerked his shaft faster, aiming at her nipples. He made a satisfied grunt when a milky rivulet of his come disappeared into her cleavage. The last spurts landed on her belly.
A satisfied gleam settled on his face as he looked at the marks he’d left on her body.
He said, “Close your eyes.”
Before Molly’s eyes drifted shut, she saw him yank his shirt over his head. Then she felt gentle swipes of cotton as he cleaned her.
Deacon placed a featherlight kiss on her lips. “I’ll lock up and call you later.”
Molly’s last conscious thought was, How sweet.
• • •
HER phone buzzed on the nightstand.
She blindly reached for it and rolled to her back. Never good news at midnight. Never good news when Uncle Bob’s name showed on the caller ID. “Hello?”
“Molly. It’s Bob. Your uncle.”