The Bargaining by Christine Warren Read Free Book Online

She tasted too good for that; her nipple felt too good against his tongue. He teased the tight bead, tracing the crinkled surface of the areola and feeling her shiver. Her pussy mirrored the reaction, clenching and releasing around his fingers as he continued to stroke and stretch her tight passage.

    “Ah! Please. I cannot take ... cannot ...” She broke off as his fingers twisted and flexed and Deacon growled in pleasure.

    “Deacon.” He said it firmly, insistently, and punctuated the reminder with a sharp nip of the bead between his teeth. Kili cried out and her nails dug briefly into his skin.

    “Yes, I --” She broke off on a gasp as the hand between her thighs shifted, his broad thumb flicking with amazing delicacy over the surface of her pulsing clit. “Powers! Deacon!”

    The scream echoed in his head and had him purring in satisfaction. “Good girl. Now was that so difficult?”

    She didn’t answer, just squirmed beneath him, blinded and deafened by her arousal, doing everything in her power to tug him closer, urge him deeper. He smiled, suckled briefly at her nipple, and let it slip from his mouth with a soft pop.

    “Now, let’s see if we can’t come up with a prize for you for that accomplishment.”

    He doubted she heard him, but it didn’t matter. She could feel him and smell him and the slightest touch of his hands or mouth on her skin made her shake like an antique warp drive. He knew she was with him, whether she could summon words or not.

    Smiling, he slid his mouth over her skin to her other breast, lavishing the nipple there with the same attention he’d given its twin. He suckled and licked and scraped and teased, occasionally nipping sharply enough to make her cry out, but always soothing the sting with generous strokes of his tongue.

    When he left it dusky and gleaming, he traced a snaking path over her torso, dancing across her ribs and down over her stomach, which flexed and contracted against him, making her pussy contract in response around his deliberately stroking fingers. He chuckled in satisfaction and let his tongue circle her navel before dipping inside to awaken the ultra-sensitive skin. She gasped then, a breathless, shuddering sound, and to Deacon it sounded like music.

    His mouth slid lower and his fingers withdrew, making her chest rise off the bed and her hands clutch at him in protest.

    “Deacon, no! Please! You can’t leave me. You can’t stop. I’ll die if you stop. Please --”

    He cut her off with another chuckle as his mouth slid down over the pale, bare skin on her mound. She froze and offered no protest when he shifted position, bringing his hand up to her chest to press her back down to the cot. He settled his chest between her parted legs, using the breadth of his shoulders to spread her even wider. Still not content, he placed his other hand high up on her inner thigh and pressed it open just as he lowered his mouth to her cunt and began to feast.

    She tasted like spun sugar and warm spice, with a heady, alcoholic tang. He growled in satisfaction and drank deeply. After the tension of the failed mission, the boredom of captivity, and the struggle against temptation and his conscience, the taste of her was like water after a very long drought. He intended to enjoy every minute of it.

    And Kili certainly wasn’t objecting. At the first touch of his tongue, she had drawn into a rigid bow, muscles trembling, frantic, panting cries breaking over her lips. Incoherent and breathless, she made no sense with her half-voiced pleas and mewls of pleasure, so he ignored them and listened to what her body told him. Her moisture ran thick and sweet. He could feel the contractions of her internal muscles when he pressed the flat of his tongue against her entrance. He felt the trembling of her thighs beside his head and the bite of her fingernails into his shoulders as she clutched him closer. He could sense her excitement and a tinge of surprise that made him