Branded (19 page)

Still kissing her with utter devotion and deep hunger, Deacon eased his fingers from her and his hand from under her skirt. Mac felt utterly boneless. Her eyes closed, all she heard were the sounds of cars rushing past outside in the dark night and Deacon's restless breathing. She wanted him. Like she'd never wanted anything. She wanted him to feel how desperate she was for him, how her heart ached for him.

She turned in his arms slightly and moved her hand down his chest, tunneling between their bodies. She got to the waist of his pants before he growled at her and ripped his mouth away.

Stunned, breathless, her eyes blinking to focus, she looked up through her lashes. “What's wrong?”

“Not here.”

His command was gruff and sexy, and it was all he said before he opened the car door, lifted her up as he slipped out, then placed her back on the seat and closed her door.

Nestled into the driver's seat, Mackenzie watched openmouthed as he rounded the front of the car, then got in the passenger side.

When the door was closed and he'd belted up, she turned to him, confused. “What are you doing?”

“It's what you're going to do. Drive.” He sounded close to biting someone. Her inner thighs trembled at the thought. “I'll direct you,” he added.

“You're serious?” she said, still staring incredulously at him. “You want me to drive this hot piece of metal back to the house?”

He rolled his head to face her. In his vivid green eyes was an untamed, dangerous hunger. “Honey, I'm on the edge here. Take us home so I can take you to bed. My cock is screaming for you.”

Air stalled inside her lungs and her sex clenched in response. But she didn't waste time. She wanted him, too, and getting to drive the Aston Martin was just a happy bonus. She quickly changed the seat's position, righted her seat belt, and with an excited grin, shifted into first and peeled away from the curb.

Watching her drive his car, watching her work the pedals with those heels and work the stick with her small, yet highly capable, hand had made Deacon so insane with lust that the very moment she killed the engine in his garage, he whisked her off to the private elevator. He growled as the doors closed, shoved his key in the lock and slammed his fist against the button that displayed a
P
, completely unconcerned that his headlights might very well still be on. Mackenzie was grinning wickedly at him, and his skin was burning from all the heat her body, her kiss, and that climax were giving off. All he wanted was to get them both naked.

With a groan of hunger, he pressed her up against the elevator wall, kissing his way from her collarbone to her neck, taking in the sound of her interminable passion.

Her hands went to his hair, fisting and
massaging. “Can anyone see us in here?” she whispered almost frantically.

His hands raked up her back, stopping when he hit zipper. “No. No camera, no nothing.”

“Good.” She grinned, grabbed the back of his shoulders and whirled them both around.

Surprised at her speed and strength, Deacon raised one black eyebrow, then cursed as she pressed him back against the wall. “What do you have planned in that beautiful mind of yours, darlin'?”

“How do I stop the elevator?” she asked, her eyes dilated, her breathing rapid.

“Behind you,” Deacon said, his cock so thick, so hard. His groin was throbbing. “The silver button with the
H
on it.”

She turned, reached over, and hit the button. The car jerked to a stop. Her eyes returned to his, and slowly and unbearably sexy, she sank to her knees.

Deacon felt as though his insides were going to erupt. His hands fisted at his sides and his cock strained inside his zipper.

Her head tilted back and she looked up at him with liquid-blue eyes. “You sure they won't come looking for us? Thinking we're in trouble?”

“They wouldn't dare,” he said. “That's why there's a phone.”

Her mouth curved up into the most beautiful, sexually wicked smile he'd ever seen. And Deacon
thought he could lose it just from that. But then she ran her hands up his thighs, over his groin, over his prick, and to the waistband of his pants. She made quick work of his belt and zipper, and when his cock sprang free, hard as marble and so filled with blood, it looked the darkest he'd ever seen it.

Her nostrils flared at she stared at him. She licked her lips. “You're very . . .” She glanced up and smiled.

“Honey, it's been hard for you since that night you drunk-kissed me.”

She laughed softly. “Then I'd say it needs some special attention, wouldn't you?”

Deacon never answered. Mackenzie's hands were on him, and she was running her fingers up and down his shaft, so light, so soft, he groaned and pushed into her. Again, she did it, light and gentle, up and over the tip, then all the way down until she reached his sac. As she cupped him and rolled his testicles in her palm, Deacon's insides contracted and he swore brutally as droplets of precome shimmered at the head of his cock.

“Look what you do to me, Mac,” he said, his voice taut. “One touch and my prick's crying.”

She stared at it, the evidence of his desire for her. Then, with a quick swipe of her tongue to her bottom lip, she lowered her head and kissed him.

Deacon could've come from just that alone.

But she didn't stop with the kiss. Her tongue
ventured out to flick across the wet tip, moaning when she tasted him. Deacon's entire body went rigid. He wanted to grab her head and thrust himself in her mouth, but he held himself back, watched as she flicked her hot little tongue down his shaft, then lapped at his balls.

“Christ,” he rasped, slamming his fist against the metal wall of the elevator. What torture. What perfect, cock-teasing torture.

And then her hungry mouth closed around him and she sucked him deep, taking everything he had and more, all the way to the root. Deacon stilled, feeling his body tightening, his balls drawing up, his seed desperate to find its wondrous target at the back of her throat. Shit, he wanted this to last, and yet he wanted to come more.

His fingers threaded in her hair, and as he thrust easily into her mouth, she moaned and played with his sac. She was so lively, so eager, her body moving with his. Glancing down, Deacon saw that the top of her dress was starting to inch down. He could just make out the top half of each of her nipples, and the sight caused another wash of precome to escape his hungry prick.

Mackenzie groaned and sucked him down, causing him to thrust harder and deeper, causing her to move an inch closer. Causing her breasts to pop out of their confines and grant him the sight that would be his downfall.

Full, pink tits.

“Fuck,” he roared, pumping furiously inside of her. “If I come in your mouth . . . It might be too much—”

He lost his words. Shit, he lost all thought as she stroked him harder and sucked him deeper and encouraged him to work her mouth like he wanted to work her pussy.

With a deep groan, he came, flooding her eager mouth with hot jets of his come. And God help him, as she drank him down, taking everything he had to give her, her nipples went rock hard.

Even as the wash of climax moved around and through him, Deacon felt barely satiated. He wanted to ease her off of him, tell her to wrap her legs around his waist, and thrust himself deep inside her pussy. But after the car and the elevator, he wanted to get her back to his mattress and her legs spread wide.

As she drew back with a moan, Deacon knew that this was just the beginning for them. And when she looked up at him and smiled, he thought his heart would break from want. He gently lifted her to feet and pulled her so close to his side she gasped. Then he hit the button to resume the elevator's ascent and they surged upward.

•   •   •

As they walked through the dark house together, stumbled down the hallways, kissing each other
madly, Mac felt a rush of power and lust snake through her once again. After taking him on her knees, drinking him down, all she could think of was him, having him, again and again. He was the most perfect taste she'd ever had on her tongue, and just recalling his expression when he'd come, when she'd swallowed every last drop of him, sent shards of electric heat straight to her sex.

Deacon's hands moved up her back, his fingers working to find the zipper of her dress, growling as he clasped it and drew it down all the way to her hips. Exposed, free, hungry, Mac could barely contain her excitement. Having him inside her, pushing deep into her sex as he kissed her, whispered to her, possessed her.

Deacon broke their kiss with a groan of frustration, and Mac realized breathlessly that they were in a bedroom—his bedroom, no doubt. How had they gotten there so fast? And how hadn't she noticed a doorway and a complete change of scenery? With eyes that refused to fully focus and wanted only to be trained on Deacon, she glanced around the room. Lit by the moon and the hall light, his bedroom was huge and modern and masculine and boasted an entire wall of windows that displayed the incredible lights of downtown Dallas. The furniture was mostly black and brown leather, and the hardwood floors seemed a lighter
cherrywood than everywhere else in the house. Black-and-white photographs decorated the light gray walls, and when Mac's gaze caught sight of the bed, all her perusal of the residence was over and unimportant.

The king-sized platform cherrywood frame was ultramasculine, as was the white comforter and black pillows, but it looked comfortable as hell, and Mac couldn't wait to pull back the sheets and climb in.

She felt Deacon's hands on her waist and sighed as he stripped her from her dress and wet panties. She felt no embarrassment being naked in front of him. They were so past that now. So addicted to each other, naked seemed like the perfect way to exist.

Still standing there in his sexy suit and tie, Deacon moved his eyes covetously over her from top to bottom, taking in her tanned skin, curvy body, which was clad in only those three-inch silver Louboutin strappy sandals.

“You make me dizzy,” he said, his eyes so dark green they seemed to be all iris.

“You make me wet,” she returned boldly.

His jaw went hard and his nostrils flared. “I can scent it. You. Now I want to feel . . . feel your cream rush over my cock.”

Heat surged into her, and she felt wetness leak from her sex and trail down her inner thigh.

Grinning in a hungry, savage way, Deacon started to take off his clothes.

Licking her lips, savoring the taste of him that was still on her tongue, Mac drew back and sat on the edge of the bed, preparing herself to witness a truly mouthwatering sight. His eyes locked to hers, he shrugged out of his jacket and tossed it over one of the leather club chairs. Then he gripped his tie.

As he loosened it, eased it down his chest, anticipation flickered through her like overactive lightning bugs. After all they'd done, all they'd both tasted and touched, she'd never seen him naked, never seen his waves of muscle and broad shoulders, hard, tight ass and taut hipbones.

Just thinking about it made her nipples harden into tight, sensitive buds.

Deacon continued the mouthwatering striptease by unbuttoning his shirt. As every inch of smooth muscle was revealed to her, Mac bit her lip and tried not to groan. But when he shouldered out of the thing and threw it aside with the rest, a small keening sound escaped her throat.

Her eyes wide and hungry, she considered placing her hands under her ass to keep from rushing at him. She wanted to help him undress, maybe even rip the fabric off of him, but she wanted to watch him even more. Once the shirt was gone, his pants dropped from his lean, muscular hips, easy and quick.

“You are so hot, Mr. Cavanaugh,” she said in a husky voice. “I want to touch every inch of you, kiss every inch of you.” She smiled to herself at her brazen words. “Lick every inch of you.”

His eyes lifted and locked on her, and the heat she saw in his green gaze made her heart trip up.

“Not if I lick you first,” he said.

He rushed her, his face tight and hungry, his cock so hard it looked like a column of marble, and pressed her back on the bed. She gasped as he splayed her legs and shouldered himself between them. He gave her no time to prepare or think. His head dropped and his tongue pushed up into her pussy, spearing her.

Mac cried out. She hadn't expected such a delicious invasion, yet she opened her legs even wider to give him better access. Groaning, he fucked her slow and deep with his tongue as his fingers stretched her pussy lips. Loving his madness, his need for her, loving every second of it, every thrust, she threaded her fingers in his thick hair.

He groaned as he drank from her, his breath fanning over her sensitive flesh. Mac lifted her hips and circled them, letting him know how crazy he was making her, how desperate she was for him. The cool sheets at her back mixed with the heat raking up her torso and pebbled her nipples. She was going to come again. She could feel the buildup, feel her mind starting to go.

God, she wanted him inside her when she came.

Wanted to see his face, lock eyes with him as she cried out and melted.

As if he felt it, too, Deacon gave her clit one last luscious feathering, then started moving up her body, kissing his way, lapping at the tiny well of her navel, running his teeth lightly over her ribs, nuzzling her nipple with his nose.

Mac's insides were flaring with heat, shaking with want. “Please, Deacon,” she begged. “Come inside me. Fuck me. Please.”

“There's nowhere in the world I'd rather be,” he whispered against her wet nipple. “God, Mackenzie, I think you own me, darlin'.”

His words wrapped around her heart and squeezed. Could that really be true? she wondered hazily, as he licked and suckled and coaxed her nipple into a hard, aching bud, his hand tunneling between them.
Could he feel that much for me?
That deeply?

Could he be falling for me? Like I've fallen for him?

Suddenly frantic for him, to connect with him, she moaned and squeezed her ass, pumping her hips, trying like hell to find him, get him inside her. But Deacon was in control, licking her nipple in quick, hard flicks as she rubbed the steel head of his prick against her entrance. He was so hard, so thick, her sex creamed in anticipation.

By the time his head came up and his eyes
locked with hers, she was near to madness. Every inch of her skin was on fire, tingling, loving the feel of his much bigger body over hers. And then he pushed her knees apart and whispered one perfect word.

“
Mine
.”

His hands now bracketing her head, he drove into her.

A strangled gasp claimed Mac's throat, and she held still for a moment, adjusting to the size of him. His long, thick cock filled her so deeply, pressed against every nerve ending, setting her muscles contracting and rippling. Blood rushed in her ears, and when he started to move, slow and easy and languid, she wrapped her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist.

“Oh, darlin',” he rasped, his eyes locked with hers. “You're so tight. If it wasn't for all that honey your pussy is coating me with . . .” He groaned, drew back, then sank into her again.

Mac felt sweat break on her forehead and tears prick behind her eyes. They came from everything inside her, everything she'd ever wanted or dreamed about having someday. This man, his large, heavy, deliciously muscled body, was poised over her, working himself in and out of her, pistoning her into a frenzy as his hungry eyes clung to her like an emotional life raft. Was it real? And was it for only one night?

Did she care?

As his thrusts quickened, hitting the soft pillow of her womb, she moaned and tightened her legs around him. She knew the answer was
Yes
. She cared. So much. She wanted him for longer than a night. She wanted him forever. But this was here and now, and she could feel it and touch it and taste it.