Bittersweet (6 page)

“Let’s see what a good girl you are,” Deacon said, and Rayka’s head shot up and she sucked in a breath when his big fingers slid into her cunt. He flexed and probed and examined her as if she were a mare for sale, and she curled around his finger. She sought more blindly as the sting and pain in her ass mingled with the sweet pleasure deep in her pussy.

“Oh, Deacon,” she said. And then she bucked against his legs as he pushed harder inside her, stroking her G-spot with an expert touch. She was warm. Warm face, warm neck, warm belly, warm inside where he touched her. And her ass was on fire.

“There it is. I wanted that. To hear you say it that way. But we’re not done, Ray. Don’t think I’ve forgotten your insubordination. I love your sweet pussy and the way you say my name, but we have six to go, baby.”

God help her, she felt her body tighten around his fingers when he said it. It excited her. He was about to inflict more pain, and she responded with excitement? Deacon let out a low chuckle that reminded her of dark smoky places. “Naughty, naughty girl,” he said. Without removing his fingers from her—in fact, starting a rhythm with his fingers, fucking her with his hand—he delivered the tenth blow.

Pain shot through her tender skin as pleasure speared through her up to her womb. “Ten, oh!” she laughed and cried.

Eleven through fifteen were torturous as he kept her right there. Right on the verge of orgasm. It was such beautiful torture. To be that close and not to get to come. To be right there and want it that bad and yet not want it to end. Rayka let loose and sobbed uncontrollably as he shifted patterns and speeds, keeping her always off kilter.

Deacon shoved her gently off his lap and his fingers slipped free of her. She swayed on her hands and knees on the floor in front of him, and he watched. “What do you want?” he asked. His dark eyes studied her as she wiped her eyes, her mascara smeared across her face. She could see the dark smudged on her hands as she wiped them across her face. Her hair stood out in a tangle and she was sniffling. Not the prettiest picture, and yet she felt gorgeous kneeling there in front of him, his eyes taking her in but giving nothing away.

“I want to come,” she whispered. The embarrassment she expected never came. It was honest, her answer. “I want you to make me come.”

“Next time, it will be way more than fifteen. And it may not be my hand.” It wasn’t so much of a threat, she could tell, as a blunt statement. This is how I play. Take me or leave me.

“I know. I mean, okay.”

“Come here, Rayka.”

She scrambled up off the floor and he helped her. He took her hand to help steady her like she was rising from an elegant dinner table than rising from the floor that was damp with her tears. He turned her without a word and placed a hot, gentle kiss at the base of her neck. He kissed slowly over her shoulder and gathered her wrists in his hand. He held her arms captive behind her back and kissed further down her spine as her body thumped with a pulse of its own. Her inner thighs were slick with her want of him, her need of him inside of her.

“Please, please,” she begged. Not caring one lick that she was begging a man to fuck her. Not caring that it was all so foreign. The submission, the begging, and worst of all, the blind, blind trust in him.

“Hold on, baby. We’re getting there.” He laughed softly and cupped her breast with his hand, pulling her back against his chest. Her arms bent back a bit too harshly, but she breathed through the discomfort and focused on the pleasure. “Spread your legs for me. Come on, let’s play nice, okay?”

She nodded at the soft caress of his voice on her shoulder and she parted her legs. Felt more of her moisture slip free of her body. Her pussy clenched, wanting to be filled, missing his fingers and his touch.

His hand tightened on her wrists and she winced, but then groaned aloud as the velvety head of his cock probed at her. He pushed just the head in and her body flexed around him, twitched as if to draw him in. He waited. Waited until Rayka let out a strangled little cry. She thought she might go insane if he didn’t slide into her. No more. No more! But she bit her tongue to avoid further punishment. Punishment she was sure would involve denying her sex. No matter how much he wanted her or how crimson his dick grew.

She started to count in her head. If he didn’t move by ten, she would push back against him. She would. Punishment be damned.

Eight...Nine...

Deacon thrust up into her and when her body buckled, when she started to come undone, he caught her. He gathered her close, her back pressed to his chest, his hands wrapped around her waist as he thrust higher and faster up into her.

That quickly, she felt her pussy coil, felt that tell-tale tightness and the flickering of pleasure that she adored. “Fuck, oh fuck, not so fast,” she whispered. Admitting defeat, she gave into that warm wave of euphoria. Felt is spread like a blissful heat under her skin. “Oh, Christ, Deacon. Yes...”

Chapter 10

She clenched around him like a wet, hot fist, and it was all he could do to hang on. To stifle the urge to come inside of her and mark her as his. He’d always liked to bite a bit during sex. There was something hot about fucking a woman and taking a nip of her skin. Not with Rayka. With Rayka he wanted to do more than nip. He wanted to mark her. She made him nuts. Protective and crazy and confused. Very, very confused.

Pulling her in harder, he steadied her hip with one hand. Yanking her back even as he thrust into her. He couldn’t get close enough or deep enough with Rayka. The same lunatic who lied about color schemes and bribed clients had swayed on the ground, looking lost from his spanking, looking submissive and humble and beyond beautiful. He had wanted to protect her, even from himself. That alone made him want to run. It made no sense.

He kept his mouth on her neck, open against her throat, and her pulse beat hard and fast against his lower lip. He could smell the rich ginger scent of her hair and the distinct smell of her skin. She flung her head back against his shoulder, relaxing into him as he took her.
Took her
. His cock flexed at the thought. Not yet. One more. He wanted to hear her say it one more time. Wanted to hear his name fly mindlessly off her lips as she came.

He pulled her hard against him, his hips moving on their own. His body couldn’t get enough of her, it moved into her of its own accord. He ran his tongue along her neck. She was warm and sweet and salty there. Rayka grabbed his thighs, her small thin hands so hot they almost burned.

Her cunt was clutching around him. He could feel each pulse of orgasm as it worked through her. Her breathing fast and harsh. His world narrowed down to the smells and sounds and feel of her.

“One more, Rayka. Give me one more.” Arching up into her, clenching his jaw to keep from coming, he strummed her clit with one hand and cupped her breast with the other. Rolled her hard nipple between his finger and thumb, felt the hardened nub bead more for him.

She started to shake in his arms. Her voice high and ethereal as she spoke, but he couldn’t tell what she was saying. He heard his name, though. That he could recognize. And there it was. She came again. Her body seeming to wrap around him and draw him deeper, closer.

Deacon let himself go, bit into the soft, tender flesh where her neck met her shoulder and growled deep in his chest. He sounded like an animal. Fuck. He felt like an animal as he came, and he seemed to keep coming. His mind went white with the feel of her.

The taste of her on his tongue as she cried out again. “Deacon!” only served to make his orgasm last that much longer.

When he kissed the bite mark gently, the teeth imprints already a brooding purple, he wondered, What
now?
Now that he had marked her? To him she was his. Rayka was his now. And up until he met her, he wasn’t aware that he even wanted someone. And he still wasn’t. He didn’t know if he wanted to want her. More so, he didn’t know what to make of any of this.

Deacon kissed over the bite mark again. He ran his tongue over the blues and purples and spots of pink. Rayka moaned and gently ran her hands through is hair. “That feels good,” she said.

“You were very good, Rayka.”

She didn’t speak but seemed to hum low in her throat, like a cat purring.

“Come here.” He sat back on the sofa and gathered her against him. Ran his hands gently over the red, flushed skin of her ass. It was hot to the touch, welts standing up in places. He hadn’t gone gentle on her the first time. He needed to know where he stood. How much she could handle, how much she
would
handle without breaking or walking away?

“That feels good,” she repeated and buried her face against his chest. Her eyelashes made gentle sweeping sensations across his skin. She felt so small and yet she wasn’t really. Rather tall and curvy, she didn’t appear fragile, but on all fours on the floor, makeup running, she had seemed so tiny. When he’d bitten into her skin, he feared it would break beneath is teeth. But he hadn’t stifled the instinct. It somehow seemed important.

“About tomorrow,” she whispered. She brushed her hand against his stomach, and the muscles galloped at her gentle touch. He wanted her all over again. A sensation made clear by his twitching cock.

Rayka nodded and then surprised him by gently licking his nipple. The sensation shot right to his cock, and he was instantly hard again. Ready.

“Careful, girl. I could flip you over and fuck you senseless again.”

She nipped the hard nub with her teeth, that fall of hair swooshing across his skin. It was a sinful sensation, made that much more sinful when she stroked his eager erection with her hand. Her thin fingers played over the tip until he had to squeeze his eyes shut to steady his heart and his body.

“I was sort of hoping for that.”

This time it was slower. This time Deacon pulled her onto her lap so she straddled him. Her hair a mess of blonde and brown. Her eyes shining with a smiling kind of happiness. He lowered her onto his cock and watched her take him in. Watched each inch disappear as her tight warmth set off each nerve ending in his body. She felt so good. She looked good. Her laugh, her smile. All totaled, she made him want. Want her. Want more.

There was something else, too. He wanted something else and he couldn’t quite name it. Or if he could, he was afraid to.

“Right there,” she sighed and leaned in, letting her forehead rest against his shoulder. “Oh, you make me nuts. You make me weak. But strong too.” Her words came out in little puffs and she let him move her. She didn’t work her hips herself, but allowed him to raise and lower her at his will. Slow. He wanted it to go slow this time around.

“Your weakness makes you stronger. Your trust in me builds you up,” he said.
And me. It makes me stronger too. You make me stronger.

“That makes no sense.” Now she was gasping. Little gasps and her hips were moving on their own. A slow grind against his lap. Her head fell back and he saw her cheeks flush with heat.

“It makes all the sense in the world. Look at how you took your punishment. A weak person couldn’t have taken that.”

“But a strong person wouldn’t have allowed it at all,” she countered. Her eyes were closed as if in prayer, her lips barely moving. She clung to his neck and stroked his skin with just her thumbs. For whatever reason, it was a sexy but comforting gesture to him. Or was it simply that no touch from her could be anything but?

“Ah, but you were strong enough to take a punishment. And strong enough to trust me. Trust is the hardest thing of all,” Deacon said and felt the words resonate. Felt that tightening of loss and fear in his solar plexus shift just a bit. Not as bad as it normally was. The ache a little less than normal.

“I trust you,” she said. Then she laughed and the sound vibrated through her body, making her clench around him tighter. The slight vibration forced a moan out of him that made her laugh again. She liked having him a little weak, he could tell. “I don’t know why I trust you, but I do. And I can’t believe I’m going to say this...”

She stopped and he watched her bite her bottom lip. That sight alone was enough to set him off. His biceps burned from moving her over him, but it was a gorgeous pain. He thrust up with his hips, his body taking over with the need of her. “What?” he managed. “You have to say what you can’t believe you’re going to say.” And then he laughed.

“I’m going to come again.”

“Open your eyes, Rayka. Look at me,” he ordered. A little harshly, maybe, but she complied.

Her big blue eyes were honest. She stared him in the eye with no embarrassment or fear. Quite a feat after being spanked for the first time. She was different, this one was. She scared him. But the thought of her walking away scared him more.

“Oh,” she said and those eyes grew wide. Deacon tightened his grip on her waist, his fingers biting into the pale skin. He moved her faster, and when her eyes went wider still and her cunt tightened almost painfully around him, he prayed. He prayed for her to do it again. It meant the world to him and he didn’t know why.

“Oh, Deacon, I’m coming, baby. Deacon.”

Deacon let himself tip over the edge with her. She had said it again. He didn’t think he would ever get tired of hearing her say it. Not in that way. That way that made his heart speed up and tighten in his chest all at once.

Chapter 11

She thought he might be the kind to leave. Even with the way that he seemed to hold her close toward the end. But he didn’t. Deacon pulled her back against him and covered them with the quilt that rested on the back of her sofa. He molded his big warm body to hers and stroked her hair. She didn’t say a word, just absorbed it. Rayka wanted to see how it would play out. But then she found herself comforted by his ministrations. She felt safe with his arms around her and his lips on the back of her neck. He didn’t have to speak if he didn’t want to.