“Different situation.” But Deacon and Ronin were even more similar than she’d thought, and it spooked her, to be honest. But right now Deacon didn’t need to hear her fears.

“True. But all the money in the world won’t give me back my brother.”

Molly kissed his cheek, her heart heavy for this man who’d lost so much. “So I hope you keep Dante alive in your memories, Deacon. Anytime you want to talk about him, feel free.”

“You might regret that you offered that.”

“Never. But I am slacking on the massage I offered you.” She returned to her position on her knees above his butt, rubbing, pushing, and working his muscles until her hands were sore. Then she bent forward, using her tongue to trace the feathers and swirls inked on his skin.

Deacon reared up. “Dammit, Molly. Warn a guy.”

“I’m gonna lick your tattoos, Deacon.” She loved the taste of his skin. Salty, with the musk of sex. She loved the way he smelled. Warm, manly, with the underlying scent of clean cotton sheets. She scraped her teeth down the side of his neck and across his shoulder, absorbing his shudder like a full-body kiss. “And when I’m done with the back, I’ll flip you over and work on the front.”

He turned his head. “What goes around comes around. You lick me? I’m gonna lick you.”

The hot, sexual warning blazing in his eyes sent goose bumps cascading down her spine.

“You play with my chest? I’m gonna play with yours.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“During the five days we were apart, I promised myself when I got you back in my bed, I was gonna kick up the kink.”

Molly’s pulse spiked, and she knew he’d felt it when he chuckled. Wanting him to show her that kink, she rubbed her breasts against his bare back and licked the shell of his ear. “Roll over. Unless you want me to rub my wet pussy over this hot, hard ass of yours and get myself off.” She canted her hips and ground down on his left buttock.

“Fuck, yeah. Use my ass to get yourself off, because you know what that means.”

What goes around comes around. I’ll use your ass to get myself off.

Molly spread her pussy lips open so her clit had direct contact with his rough skin. Then she rolled up and back.

“Jesus, woman. You’re wet.”

“Touching you does that to me,” she panted in his ear.

He groaned. “Keep doin’ that. Talking dirty as you rub one out.”

“Did you jack off this week when I wasn’t there to keep your poor cock from suffering from semen buildup?”

“I tried to whack off. But it didn’t work. I only wanted you.”

“I only wanted you too.” How could she already be close to coming? She began to move faster.

“That’s it, babe. Take what you need.”

She wrapped her hands around his biceps to anchor herself because their skin had grown slick. Her vision went a little wonky and she pressed her cheek into the curve of his neck. When the tiny pulses radiated from her clit, she rubbed harder, clutched him harder, breathed harder.

He tightened his ass cheek and she released a low moan.

When her pussy stopped throbbing, she relaxed against him and kissed the nape of his neck.

“So goddamn hot how easily you let go with me.” Deacon turned his head to get at her mouth. “Your body on mine, your wet pussy rubbing on me, your breath hot and fast in my ear. You drive me fucking crazy, woman.”

“Now you need to turn over so I can lick your tats on the front side.” For once she scooted off him faster than he could grab her, and she laughed.

Deacon’s heavy-lidded gaze and hard cock spurred her to drive him to the edge, just to see how far he’d let her go before he took over.

In her most commanding voice, she said, “Hands above your head.”

He complied, his big hands gripping the slats of the headboard. But Deacon, being Deacon, didn’t allow her full control. “As much as I love your mouth around my cock, that part of me is off-limits during this frontal massage.”

His clipped tone indicated it wouldn’t be long before the beast came out. And she couldn’t wait.

So Molly ignored his edict. Keeping her gaze fastened to his, she bent her head, licking up his shaft, stopping to suck the precome from the head. He hissed a warning, so she moved up, outlining the pillows of his abs with the tip of her tongue.

When she reached the tats on his chest, she focused on mapping the lines and swirls with her mouth. Her breasts dragged along his skin, her nipples hard as diamonds. The way her heavy breasts swayed with her movements drove him crazy. At one point she swore she heard the wooden headboard slats cracking under his iron grip as he fought his natural instinct to touch her.