Deacon (Iron Tzars MC #12) Read Online Marteeka Karland

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Biker, MC Tags Authors: Series: Iron Tzars MC Series by Marteeka Karland
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Total pages in book: 36
Estimated words: 33157 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 166(@200wpm)___ 133(@250wpm)___ 111(@300wpm)
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“Are you gonna fuck me or not? Because you’re really killing the mood now.”

I thrust my hips at her, letting the ridge of my cock ride over her clit. I knew I’d hit the right spot because her breath hitched and her eyes widened just a fraction. She shifted beneath me before stilling as if realizing what she’d just done. “Killin’ the mood? I don’t think so. I think you want me just as much as I want you.”

“Don’t mean anything.” She stuck up her chin, a stubborn gesture if ever I saw one. “I’ve wanted you to fuck me for a long time. Just this time, I’ll know not to let my heart get involved.”

Yeah. Challenge accepted.

Chapter Eight

Apple

I was in trouble. The look in Deacon’s eyes said he was a man on a mission. I was terribly afraid that mission was to get me to give him something I didn’t want to. My heart.

But I couldn’t worry about that right now. The second Deacon lowered his lips to mine again, I knew he was out for blood. He swept inside my mouth like a conquering hero -- or villain -- and made me forget about anything other than hanging on and accepting his dominance. Because only he held the key to the pleasure I knew lay just beyond my reach.

Just when I knew I’d never be able to breathe without his lips on mine, Deacon pushed off me to sit back on his heels, my legs draped over his thighs. He watched me intently as he whipped off his shirt to reveal his ripped, tattooed body. No matter how many times I’d watched him working out shirtless, or gone swimming with him, looking at his rugged body always brought a rush of pleasure.

“Take it off, baby. I want your top and bra off.”

It took his words a moment to kick in from my brain to my body, but the second I processed his gruff demand, I scrambled to comply. Which meant I was proving him right to not like our age difference. There was no way I could ever be the woman he expected me to be. I mean, I’d learn, but that was the problem. Deacon had to be willing to teach me. If he wasn’t, this was already doomed. Which I would not think about! I’d decided I was taking what he offered and living in the moment, so that’s what I was going to do.

I refused to look at his face, to see any kind of displeasure and reached for him once I’d tossed the offending garments over the side of the bed. Instead, I kept my gaze firmly on his chest. Hopefully, he’d think I was mesmerized by his body -- which wouldn’t exactly be off the mark -- and not question me.

“Christ,” he bit out. “Get your fuckin’ shorts off too.”

I wiggled my shorts over my hips and off my ass, lifting my legs for Deacon to tug them down -- panties and all. He tossed them to the floor, then gripped my thighs and pulled my lower body up with a sharp tug. All I could do was gasp in a breath before letting it out on a scream as his mouth went straight to my pussy and sucked.

My body arched as Deacon’s rough tongue found my clit, licking and swirling around the bundle of nerves with purpose. I reveled in every single sensation, from his unshaven jaw rasping against my vulnerable skin to the feather-light touches of his breath on my folds. Every so often, he licked up along the length of my slit, teasing my clit as it throbbed for him, plumping it with his actions. A guttural groan rumbled in his chest as he suckled on me, a low growling noise that came from deep within him, full of need and desire. His fingers on my legs squeezed tighter, pulling them farther apart until I was fully exposed to his clever mouth, teeth, and tongue. How long had I dreamt about being in this exact position? Too long. Too fucking long.

I tried to push myself farther into his mouth, to rub my clit over his beard but it wasn’t enough. I needed more friction! My hips bucked up and down, begging for penetration as he lapped at my sex. My nails dug into the sheets, the textured cotton soft against my palms. I threw my head back, keeping myself from pleading with him to fuck me as he had promised. To take what he was denying himself so far.

“God! Sweet God!”

“God has very little to do with this, baby.” Deacon looked down at me from between my legs. My weight rested on my shoulders while my knees hooked over his shoulders. If there was a twinge from my injury, I didn’t mind. Just meant I was alive and in the arms of the man I loved with all my heart. I thrust my hips up and down, needing more. Needing what he was denying us both.



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