“I wouldn’t lie about that.”

“I wasn’t accusing you,” she said softly. “I don’t know whether to be nervous or flattered.”

“Neither.”

“Then what? Why me, Deacon?”

“Jesus. You’re here. That’s what matters. Why do you have to dissect it?”

“I don’t.” Molly crossed over to the bed and braced her hands on it. “Wow. This is firm.”

“This is firm too.” Deacon scooted in behind her, rocking his groin into her ass, performing a sexy bump and grind that seemed almost . . . playful for him.

Probably moves he picked up after spending years at strip clubs.

She willed the cynical voice to pipe down.

“Something wrong?” he asked as he brushed his lips against the hollow behind her ear.

“Yeah, there is.”

Deacon froze.

Molly spun in his arms and fisted her hands into his T-shirt. “Let’s christen this room.”

“I plan to. After we eat.”

“You know what they say about the best-laid plans,” she murmured. Her greedy hands followed the hard muscles of his chest, past his chiseled abs to that sexy flexor muscle beneath his hips.

She dropped to her knees. He wore athletic shorts. No belt, no zipper—one tug and his clothing hit the floor—no underwear either.

“What the fuck, Molly.”

Feeling ornery, she dragged her tongue up his shaft, keeping her eyes on his as she licked the hard, meaty goodness. In the two weeks they’d been together, Deacon had kept his dick away from her mouth . . . and that was stopping right now.

He exhaled loudly. “We—you—can pick this up later. The food will be here shortly.”

“Don’t care.” She teased the head of his cock, flicking her tongue over the sweet spot. Then she parted her lips and slipped the length into her mouth, over her teeth and across her tongue. She sucked experimentally and glanced up to see Deacon’s reaction.

He hissed in a breath and his hand cupped the back of her head. He didn’t use his grip to drive his cock deeper into her mouth; he gripped her hair tightly, as if he needed to hold on.

The taste of him was . . . so perfectly him, so utterly male. Hot and dark. A little salty. A little musky. Smooth. Hard. Molly closed her eyes and savored him, even as she drove him mad with long, slow sucks. She even attempted to work past her gag reflex, wanting to get the whole of him inside her mouth.

“Fuck.” His legs started to tremble.

Imagine that. She could make him weak-kneed. But she wanted more than that. She wanted to hear her name exploding from his mouth as his seed exploded on her tongue.

“Babe,” he panted, “stop.”

Molly ignored him and just kept on taking what she wanted.

When he realized she wasn’t stopping until he came, he became more aggressive. Pulling her hair. Rocking his hips into her face. Muttering dirty things.

She loved it.

“Sweet Christ. Fuck yeah. Feel that. Feel what you’re doin’ to me.”

She felt it; his cock had suddenly gotten harder.

“Gonna come.”

The first splash of heat surprised her, as did Deacon’s hoarse, “Suck hard.”

She swallowed. Again and again, until the jerking pulses stopped. Only after his semihard cock slipped out of her mouth did she feel shy. She rubbed her cheek on the tops of his thighs, loving the rasp of his hair on her skin.

Deacon’s hand fell away.

When Molly finally glanced up at him and saw the fire burning in his eyes, her heart slammed into her throat.

His rough-skinned fingers stroked her face—her cheekbone, her jawline. “You have any idea how fucking hot it was watching my dick disappearing between these pretty lips?”

“No, I don’t. Tell me.”

“Fuck, woman.” He laughed. A bit shakily. “I don’t know whether to turn you over my knee or get on my knees.”

A chime sounded.

Deacon allowed one last caress before he stepped back and yanked up his shorts. “That’s the food. Don’t move until I get back.”

Screw that. She was not eating chicken salad on her knees.

Molly stood and walked into the master bathroom. It wasn’t overly done, just basic cream tiles with navy blue accents. A white counter with two inset glass sinks topped the oak vanity. She peeked in the shower. Yeah. It rocked. The space had to be big to fit Deacon’s large body. She could see multiple showerheads on three walls, and along the back was a bench seat.

The mirror above the vanity stretched almost wall-to-wall. The mirror in her bathroom was pocket-sized compared to this one.

A tremor rolled through her, remembering when Deacon had bent her over the counter in her bathroom. He’d fucked her slowly, making her watch them fuck, forcing her eyes to stay on his as she came. It’d been hotter than she’d ever imagined.