Cocky Suits Chicago: Books 1-3

by Alex Wolf

“So. Close. Too.” His eyes stay locked on mine the entire time, watching me come undone on top of him.

  He finally places both hands on my hips and presses me down, so I take every bit of him as deep as possible. At the same time he grunts. His cock twitches inside me.

  “Fuck, Quinn.”

  My eyes flutter open at the sight of him emptying himself, and for a brief second I wish he wasn’t wearing the condom. I want to feel him bare inside me, filling me.

  I shouldn’t think that. It would be incredibly reckless and stupid, but I can’t help myself. I want to know what it’d feel like, what it’d be like. It should scare the hell out of me, but it doesn’t. I can’t form rational thoughts right now. My brain is a jumbled mess of exposed wires.

  When he finishes, I collapse on top of him, and he holds me to his chest for what seems like an eternity, but probably isn’t more than a few seconds. Then, I remember he’s still inside me with a full condom and I roll off to his side.

  We both lie there, panting, staring up at the ceiling. At the same time, we both turn over to face each other.

  Through several labored breaths I say, “That was…”

  “Incredible.” He finishes the sentence for me.

  I never want to get up. Never want to leave his bed again.

  Eventually, my brain resumes its regular function, and I excuse myself to the bathroom.

  Staring in the mirror, I splash cold water on my face.

  Glancing around, I still can’t believe I’m here with Deacon in his apartment. It’s surreal after months of hooking up at work. Three months ago, if someone had told me I’d be dating one of the Collins brothers, I’d have died laughing. I’d have written them off as a crazy person.

  But, here I am.

  When I return to the room, Deacon’s in front of his dresser pulling some clothes out. He tosses me an oversized t-shirt as he walks toward me. He stops and plants a kiss on my forehead, then shoulders past into the bathroom.

  I have to stop and ogle him as he walks away. He’s so—perfect, and male, and manly as all hell. His broad shoulders and thigh muscles expand and contract with each step. The way he walks almost looks like he’s strutting, but it’s not because he’s some douche trying to look tough. It’s because his chest is so damn wide it forces his arms out at an angle. I can’t help myself and glance down from his back to between his legs. His thick cock hangs down, bouncing from side to side.

  I can’t help but give him a little catcall whistle.

  “Enjoying the view?” he calls over his shoulder.

  I bite my lower lip between my front teeth. “I am actually.”

  “Gonna end up in HR for sexual harassment.” He closes the door to the bathroom, laughing on his way in.

  “Worth it,” I whisper to myself.

  My body already starts to thrum with desire once more, just picturing him walking away from me. I pull his shirt over my head loving how it smells exactly like him.

  He exits the bathroom still fully naked.

  My cheeks pink at the sight of him from the front.

  We just had sex in his bed.

  “I love it when you blush.” He walks up and traces my jaw with his finger. “Hungry?”

  “Starving.”

  “Well then, how do you like your eggs?”

  I smack at his chest, then grab it a little because it’s hard as granite and I can’t help myself. “Shut up. You cook?”

  “I can do lots of things.” He slips on his boxer briefs.

  I follow him to the kitchen. “What can I do to help?”

  He points at a bar stool along the kitchen island. “Just sit your hot little ass there and look pretty. I got this.” He kisses my nose.

  “Okay then, hotshot. Let’s see what ya got.” I cringe at my awkward, accidental rhyme, and take a seat on the stool.

  “Okay, Funkmaster Flex.” He laughs. “I see you’re sitting in the front row. Big shocker. Might wanna grab your notebook and pencil.”

  “So I can write a Yelp review trashing your eggs?”

  “You’re gonna regret that in a few minutes. Just wait.” He pulls down a spatula from a hanging pot rack and points it at me. “You’ll see.”

  I laugh and watch him go to work. God what a view. There’s something inherently sexy about a man cooking in nothing but boxer briefs. His muscles expand and constrict at the slightest movements as he strolls around the kitchen. I swear he looks like a breathing Michelangelo sculpture.

  He grins at me as he pulls bacon and eggs from the refrigerator. “Like omelets?”

  “Yeah.” Anything with Deacon sounds good. Why does it feel like all the air leaves the room when he’s around? He makes me insane.

  I can’t believe he’s cooking in his kitchen for me. It feels like a dream. This whole day has been amazing so far. I never want it to end, but I know as the sun inches down on the horizon, reality awaits. At some point, I’ll need to go home and take care of Dad. I don’t mind that. I just wish there was some way I could have everything I want all at once. My life seems like a zero-sum game. If I want time with Deacon, it has to come out of time with Dad. And if I want time with Dad, it has to come out of time with Deacon.

  I allow myself to briefly think about what it’d be like if we all lived together. It’s insane, I know. But I wouldn’t have to feel so torn between the two of them. Trying to be two places at once is exhausting. I’m allowed to think about what it’d be like, even if it would never happen.

  “What’s going on in that brain of yours?” He must notice the far-off look in my eyes.

  “Wondering how terrible this omelet will be.” I laugh and breathe a sigh of relief when he chuckles at my terrible joke.

  There’s no way in hell I’ll tell him I was fantasizing about him living with Dad and me. It’s so hilarious I almost laugh out loud but catch myself. I have this vivid picture of his reaction in my mind. It consists of his silhouette sprinting over the horizon, growing tiny in the sunset. He’s in nothing but his boxer briefs, and he doesn’t look back. Nope. Not once. There’s nothing but a trail of dust kicked up in his wake.

  I don’t want to scare him off, but my feelings for Deacon are so intense. He makes me so happy. Happier than I’ve ever been.

  “My lady.” He does some medieval curtsy and slides a plate in front of me, then retrieves a glass of orange juice.

  It looks so damn good I almost want to take a picture of it with my phone. I take a bite of the fluffy eggs, cheese, and crunchy bacon, and I damn near have another orgasm. Okay, not really, but it’s incredible. Incredible enough I let out a slight moan. Did he really just cook this? I’m so caught up in the moment of enjoying the omelet, I don’t realize he sidles up next to me with a plate for him.

  His warm breath exhales straight into my ear. “I love when you make that sound but it’s usually because I’m inside you.”

  Heat blooms across my cheeks; they must be ten different shades of pink. How does he still find ways to make me blush? I should see these things coming, but secretly I hope he never stops. I also can’t help but notice how he almost sounded jealous of the eggs. He’s so damn—I don’t know. He’s just Deacon. I’ve never met anyone like him.

  “Don’t be shy.” He digs into his plate, eating faster than I’ve ever seen anyone eat in my life.

  He must catch me staring at him, because he pauses from inhaling his food and asks, “What?” with a mouthful of eggs.

  I grin and shake my head. There are no words.

  “You’ve never been in a cafeteria with eighty college football players. You eat when you fucking can or the linemen take all the damn food.”

  Well, that makes more sense. It also explains a lot of the practical jokes and his sense of humor. Dad always called it locker-room talk.

  Deacon resumes annihilating his food, and I can’t help but stare at his body. It must take a lot of protein to stay in that type of shape. I’m starting to think his suits don’t actually do him justice. All the Coll
ins men are tall, but Deacon is definitely thicker and more muscular than all of them. Football makes sense.

  His eyes roll over to meet mine. “What’s up?”

  “All I can think about is getting you back in bed and getting these off you.” I tug on the waistband of his boxers.

  He takes a gigantic drink of juice and starts shoveling eggs into his mouth.

  I stare at him with wide eyes. His damn fork looks like the Roadrunner’s legs.

  His hand shoots out with the fork in it and he taps it on my plate. “Eat up.” It sounds like a drill instructor barking orders.

  I continue to just gape at him.

  He stops for a second, turns, and says, “You’re gonna need the calories, Quinn.”

  I shake my head and laugh. “You’re crazy.”

  “Crazy about you.”

  Deacon

  Groaning and stretching, I move to roll out of bed and realize Quinn’s head is on my chest. We took a nap after we finished eating. I look around the room, taking in the scene, and run my fingers through her hair. It’s perfect.

  Life is perfect.

  I lie there, thinking about her living with me. A few months ago, I’d have dry-heaved at the thought of a woman moving in, but now, I think I could get used to waking up next to Quinn every morning.

  I pull the sheet back and stare at the curve of her hip pressed up against me. There’s a dusting of freckles on her right shoulder. It’s impossible to see and not want to kiss them.

  My eyes roam to the teeth marks on her left breast. Something primal stirs in me, in the unevolved part of my brain, back when cavemen would mark their territory. It doesn’t bother me, though. There’s nothing I want more than to protect her—take care of her, even though I know she can fend for herself.

  To say I’m turned on right now is the understatement of the century. I’m like a damn addict. Just watching her is like a narcotic flooding my veins.

  My cock hardens at the sight of her pale skin and smooth legs. I look at the clock and know her dad probably expects her home soon. I slip out of bed, thinking what I’m about to do might be a mistake, but I can’t stop myself. I snatch her phone off the coffee table and press the call button.

  “Hello.” His voice is gruff.

  “Mr. Richards, it’s Deacon Collins.”

  “Is Quinn okay?”

  “She’s fine. I just wanted to let you know she fell asleep. I know she’s normally home by now. I didn’t want you to worry, but if there’s anything you need, I’ll do whatever I can.”

  “I’m good for a few more hours.”

  “Great. Thank you, sir.” I end the call and grab a glass of water then slide back into bed.

  Quinn rolls to her side, hugging my pillow. The urge to reach out and touch her is unbearable and I give in. I trace her curves with the tip of my index finger, down her hip toward her thigh, inching my way between her legs. She’s about to get the wake-up call of her life; a Deacon Collins alarm clock special.

  I can’t imagine what it’d be like to sink my cock into her every morning.

  It’d be perfect. We’d get up and fuck. Go to work, come home, have dinner, and fuck again.

  I take one of her nipples between my fingers and slide my head down her stomach. She needs to know what it’s like to wake up to my tongue every morning.

  I don’t make it down in time.

  Quinn lets out a soft yawn and her eyes flutter open. They dart down and land on my head between her thighs, staring back up at her.

  “Hi,” she whispers.

  “Hi.” I slide back up and brush some hair from her cheek. “Sleep good?”

  “Like a baby. I think I’m in love with your bed.” She stretches her arms up behind her head.

  I take the opportunity to grab her wrists and pin them there. We sit there a moment, faces inches apart. I want to ask her if that’s all she loves, my bed, but I choke the words down. It’s way too soon for that kind of talk.

  “What time is it?” Her eyes widen with panic etched across her face.

  “Five-thirty.”

  “Shit!” She breaks free and shoves past me. Her feet drop to the floor. “I need to get going. My dad.”

  I watch her from the bed. “Don’t worry.” I hook my arms around her waist and pull her back into the covers with me. “He’s fine. I called him.”

  Quinn’s eyes turn into two huge orbs. “You called him?” Then, a smile spreads across her face. “And how’d that go?”

  I shrug like it was no biggie. “He said he’s good for an hour or two.”

  Quinn falls into my arms and breathes a sigh of relief.

  I rest my chin on her shoulder where it meets her neck.

  “You two besties now? Should I worry you’ll be texting and trading football stories?” She laughs at herself and I love hearing that sound. The sound of her happiness.

  “Come here,” I growl. “We only have two hours and I don’t know if we’ll have enough time.”

  Her eyebrows rise as her head falls back on my chest. “Time for what?”

  “Time to fuck each other with our mouths.”

  She squeals my name as I flip her over. “Deacon!”

  “Got something against a proper sixty-nine?” I lean down and capture her nipple between my teeth.

  She lets out a soft moan, more like a purr, and my cock hardens at the sound. I go back and forth between her tits trying to decide which one I like best. It’s an impossible chore. I tease her repeatedly until she spreads her legs and says, “Fine. Do what you must, sir. I’ll endure it.”

  “I like when you call me sir. Makes me feel powerful and shit.”

  “Does it now?”

  “Goddamn right it does.” I roll next to her, abandoning the idea of taking my time. I can’t keep my hands off her. “I need you here.”

  She squeals when I grip her hips and yank her to my mouth. She’s facing away from me and straddling my face. I exhale warm breath across her clit, knowing it’ll drive her crazy. Like I expected, her thighs quiver against my cheeks.

  Her pussy lowers to my mouth, and I dig my fingers into her thighs so she can’t scurry away if things get too intense. I bury my tongue in her, licking, sucking, and teasing.

  Soft coos of approval fall from her lips, and then I feel her mouth on me.

  “Fuck.”

  She stops to say something, and I fight the urge to grab her head and shove her back down. “Sounds like I’m doing a good job on my end.”

  I laugh. “Oh, you want this to be a competition?”

  “First one to come loses.”

  “Deal.” I smack her on the ass playfully to seal the agreement.

  Her lips meet my cock once more, and I already know I’m at risk of losing this bet. Her hot mouth sucks around my shaft taking me as far as she can.

  I flatten my tongue on her pussy and tease her clit with the tip of my tongue. She squirms immediately and her cheeks suck tighter around me.

  This is heaven. Pure fucking heaven right here.

  I always operated under the assumption I could eat pussy better than I could play football, but Quinn is a worthy opponent.

  I sink a finger inside her while I tongue her clit. The angle damn near makes my hand cramp up, but I’m not about to lose. Her wetness streams down her thighs and lands on my tongue and she tastes like…mine.

  All fucking mine.

  It does nothing but fuel me, and I speed up the tempo. Her legs tremble, more and more, amping up in intensity, and I know she’s fucking close. I slide a finger down to collect some lube from her hot cunt, then tease the rim of her ass with it.

  Her hips start to buck, and I know I have this thing won now. In fact, I’m so confident, I take my mouth from her for a moment to do a little mid-game shit talking. “It’s all over for you, Quinn.” I watch my finger press tighter against her and smile when she shakes even harder at the sensation. “Who knew the innocent girl at the office was such a filthy little slut in the bedroom.”
/>
  She always comes fast when I talk dirty to her.

  I hum against her clit and tease both of her holes.

  Her pussy clenches tight around my finger and I can tell she’s fighting it back with everything she has. Her hips buck against my mouth until she’s full on fucking my face and fingers. I love every second of it. I add a second finger to her pussy and tease her ass with my thumb.

  One day I’ll fuck her there.

  Suddenly, I notice I’ve been so concentrated on pleasing her, I didn’t realize my own hips were thrusting up and down, fucking her mouth.

  “Dea-con.” She pulls her mouth away from my dick, and her entire body quakes. “Oh God.”

  I yank her into me, and the orgasm pulses through her, from her hips down to her curled toes. She’s like a live wire, short-circuiting all over the place.

  While she rides my face, my balls lift high and tight.

  Uh oh! What the hell?

  Then, I feel it. Her fingers, stroking my cock up and down. Everything goes blurry for a split second, almost like an out-of-body experience, then I blow all over her hand.

  I can’t stop panting. Two-a-day practices in hundred-degree weather my whole life, and I’ve never been as spent as I am right now. Just as I’m catching my breath, Quinn’s mouth is on my cock.

  I lean out around her ass and she’s cleaning me up with her tongue. I already have the urge to fuck her again. I’m not going soft anytime soon, not with her licking around my shaft.

  “I’d call it a draw.”

  She doesn’t see me watching her, and she smiles against my dick. “I was still going after you tapped out.”

  “Oh bullshit. Remind me to have cameras installed. In case we need an official review in the future to keep you from cheating.”

  “I’m sure that’s exactly why you’d want a camera in here.”

  I grin. Fuck, she’s perfect.

  I’m nowhere near done with her, so I flip her around and lift her on top of me.

  She doesn’t miss a beat. Her hot pussy slides down on my cock, and I nearly lose it. God, she’s so hot and wet. I’m not wearing a condom and I never imagined her feeling this goddamn amazing.

  She starts to move up and down, but I grip her by the hips and stop her. I stare up into her eyes. “You sure?”