by Amy Brent
The look on his face was one of pure bliss as he spread me open. We both let out groans of pleasure as our bodies got used to being together like this again. Though it hadn't been all that long, it still felt like the first time – something I hope never, ever changed about our lovemaking.
Deacon started slowly, rocking back and forth on top of me, kissing me as he fucked me.
I ran my hands up and down his back, scratching gently as he moved in and out of me. My legs wrapped tighter around his waist so that every time he pulled out, mybody lifted up with his. I moved with him, our bodies in perfect rhythm, perfect harmony, making each thrust go deeper and deeper.
“Yes, baby, yes,” I said, feeling that familiar warmth spread throughout my entire body.
Everything Deacon was doing felt amazing and I let him have complete control of my body, encouraging him to do whatever he pleased. But just as I felt myself reaching the peak, Deacon surprised me, flipping us over so I was on top – all while his cock remained buried deep inside of me.
Now on top, I sat up and looked down at him as Deacon cupped my breasts, staring at me like I was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen. Just the way he looked at me made me grow even wetter, the fire between my thighs burning out of control.
With a look of absolute hunger in his eyes, he played with my nipples, making me gasp as he pinched them, while I ground against him, my clit rubbing against his pelvic bone, making me shudder and moan with absolute pleasure.
Being on top gave me complete control and within minutes, I climaxed – my entire body bucking wildly as the spasms of my orgasm tore through my body. Deacon held onto me, moving my wildly shuddering body up and down on his cock as I called out his name over and over again.
“Deacon, yes, Deacon – Oh God...”
Thankfully, the music was loud – as I hoped the crowd downstairs was as well – so it was hopefully drowning out all my cries of pleasure as I came hard, my pussy tightening around Deacon's dick like a clenched fist. Deacon's eyes were rolling into the back of his head as I kept fucking him. His body was tense and he seemed to be close to losing it too – but he was fighting to prolong our lovemaking. Oh God, he was fighting so hard, and as much as I wanted us to keep going all night, I also wanted him to orgasm with me. I wanted him to feel every bit as amazing as I did.
Squeezing my muscles down tight around him, I stared deep into his eyes and begged him, “Come for me baby. Please – fill me with your hot cum. I want it. I need it.”
And just like that, with my dirty talk ringing in his ears, he grabbed onto my hips, his fingers digging into my flesh, and thrust himself upward. He was buried deeper inside of me than he had ever been and he cried out as his body shuddered.
“Emelia, fuck baby, I'm coming... ”
And as his body throbbed and pulsed beneath me, he filled me with his cock and with an animalistic grunt, he shot his seed deep inside my pussy. I gasped wildly and came again as I watched the look of pleasure fill his eyes. We rocked back and forth together, savoring the feeling of our bodies coming together, until the very last wave of intense sensation washed over us.
I collapsed on top of him, and he held me close. I could hear his heart beating fast, and we both struggled to regain our breathing.
“God, I love you, Emelia,” he said, pushing my sweat-drenched hair from my face so he could look at me. “I love you so fucking much.”
“I love you too, Deacon,” I said, smiling wide.
I pulled myself off his cock, his juices running down my thighs, as I laid down beside him. Curled up next to him, I could almost let myself forget where we were. I could almost pretend we were somewhere else. Somewhere beautiful. I could almost pretend that we were in our own little world – just me and Deacon. But one look at the walls around me reminded me where we were and shattered that little fantasy.
As I stared into the eyes of the man I loved, I couldn't wait until I was free from my father. My family name. Free from the prison I was being confined in to live my life out with the man I loved – the father of my growing child.
ooo000ooo
We dozed, on and off, in my bed until the party downstairs started to grow quiet. My father tried one more time to get me to come down to greet his guests, but I just continued to ignore him. He left, after screaming at me through the door that I was a disgrace, that I was dishonoring my family name, and shouted that whether I liked it or not, I was going to marry Tony.
It was easy to ignore him and laugh it off, because in the end though, he joke was going ot be on him.
I looked at Deacon and stifled my laughter as my dad threatened me a million different ways. Deacon looked upset, like he wanted to murder someone – like my father – but I held him close and told him that soon, we'd be out of there. I soothed him by saying that soon enough, we'd be free.
Eventually, everything downstairs grew silent. The party was over and it was time to go. And as we prepared to leave, Deacon handed me a gun. I stared down at it then back at him.
“Just in case,” he said with a wink.
I nodded. I knew we might run into a guard or some drunk asshole looking for a fight. Maybe even both. I took the gun, figuring that it was better to be safe than sorry.
Deacon stepped into the hallway first, looking both ways to make sure it was clear, even though I told him it would be better if I did. Just in case. But he refused to let me go out first, fearing that there was danger lurking in the corridor outside my room. He looked carefully, listened even more carefully, and made sure it was clear. When he was satisfied that it was, he motioned for me to follow him out.
We just needed to get to the bottom of the stairs and if all was clear there, then we could slip out the back. Deacon said he had driven a truck to my father's house – and that was what we were planning on escaping in. We just had to hope that the restaurant didn't have someone else drive it back or else we'd be hoofing it on foot. And if that was the case, it meant a long walk from my dad's property to the main road, and eventually back into town.
But no matter how far we had to walk or how long it took, it didn't matter to me. Every single step away from my father's house – and my father's life – was a step closer to living my own life. With Deacon. And our child. A step closer to a life filled with happiness and love.
We made it down the stairs and got to the end of the hallway just fine. We paused, listening and waiting before we continued down the stairs. For a moment, I thought this was going to be easy and I felt my heart filling with hope. Freedom was close at hand.
But no, I couldn't have been more wrong about that.
Coming up the stairs, at the same time we were coming down, was one of my dad's guards. A man named Gerardo. He stopped, a puzzled expression on his face. He looked at me first, then over to Deacon. It took a moment, but I saw the alarm begin to spread across his face as he comprehended what was happening. But before he could raise his gun, Deacon was on him. Gunshots could potentially wake up my father – and anybody else in the house – so we needed to keep it as quiet as possible. Not that the sound of an all out brawl was quiet, but it was better than gunfire.
I watched Deacon struggling with the man and wasn't sure what we were going to do. He seemed to be getting the upper hand, maneuvering himself around behind Gerardo and putting him in a headlock. The guard grunted and looked pained, but he kept struggling, kept fighting, uselessly batting at Deacon's arms with his fists.
“Look away, Emelia,” Deacon whispered, his voice strained with the effort.
I quickly did as I was told – not that it helped much. The cracking sounds I heard as Deacon broke the man's neck would forever be ingrained into my skull. Slightly winded, Deacon dropped the man's lifeless body onto the stairs, Gerardo's head was bent at an impossible angle and his eyes were glassy and fixed on a point far beyond the house. Deacon took my hand, trying to snap me out of it. I pulled my gaze away from the body and looked at him, feeling my stomach churning.
“I'
m sorry – ” he said.
I shook my head. This was no time to get squeamish. I knew that getting out of the house and away from my father wasn't going to be easy – and figured it wasn't going to be pretty either. I knew the possibility existed that people were going to die. But it was easier to grasp when it was an abstract concept – seeing an actual body was a whole different ballgame.
But I had to be a big girl. I had to suck it up. If I wanted out of this life and away from my father, if I wanted to go away somewhere and build my life with Deacon, I had to simply get over it and push forward.
“It had to be done,” I said, trying not to look at the guard.
I couldn't think of him as Gerardo, not anymore. He was dead. He was gone. He was but a faceless stranger to me now. An enemy that stood in the way of my freedom. We'd done what had to be done.
Deacon and I continued down the stairs, and he looked ahead of us, searching for the threats that lay between us and the back door. When it was clear, he motioned for me to follow him down the hallway again. We walked quickly but quietly toward the ballroom and all remained silent. The further we got from the stairs – and the closer we got to the back door – had me feeling good about our chances of slipping out of this prison once more.
The big, heavy doors that led out the back were closed, which meant we couldn't see outside. And I knew from experience that they made a thunderous sound when someone pulled them open. Getting out meant we were going to make some noise. But we had no choice. If we wanted to earn our freedom, we were going to have to roll the dice.
Deacon looked at me, and I nodded, taking a deep breath. I was ready – gun in my hand and at the ready if needed. And judging by the set to his jaw and the look in his eye, he was as ready as I was.
Taking a deep breath, he pulled open the big, heavy doors. They squealed as mightily as I knew they would, making me wince.
But as soon as he had the doors open, and the cool night air was flowing past us, we found ourselves face-to-face with Tony and three other men. All of them Irish. All of them, his former brothers.
EMELIA
“Deacon, old pal, lovely to see you, lad,” one of the Irishmen said. “What do you think you're doin' here? And where are ya goin' with the lassie?”
Deacon didn't answer. He stared hard at the gathered men and I could see that he was formulating his plan in his head. He looked at me, trying to tell me something with his eyes – something I wasn't getting. I'd never been in a situation like this before and had no idea what I was doing.
But I knew that if we were going to go down, I was going to go down fighting. I wouldn't be dragged back into that life again. Not when I had all I wanted in the world standing beside me.
When Deacon moved, it was smoothly and it was quickly. Before anybody had even registered what he was doing – let alone react to it – he'd raised his arm and squeezed off a shot. The bullet tore through the man who'd just spoken, a fount of blood spraying from the wound in his shoulder. The Irishman squealed in pain and dropped to the ground, clutching his wounded arm. It was a non-lethal hit – I had to give him credit for that.
But with three others in front of us – and raising their weapons – playtime was over. It was time to shoot to kill.
Tony took several steps toward me just as the other two Irishmen moved on Deacon. I raised my arm and held my gun steady on Tony. He glared at me, shaking with rage, his face dark and his eyes filled with the promise of a painful retribution.
“Don't make me do this,” I said, my hands shaking.
More gunshots and men screaming rang out, shattering the stillness of the night air, but I couldn't look away from Tony. I was afraid that if I allowed my attention to be diverted, he'd move on me and I wouldn't be able to stop him. I had little doubt that Tony would kill me for what I was doing – so there was no way I was going to give him the chance.
No, my gaze remained on Tony, and only Tony, as he walked toward me, his face growing ever darker with each step.
“You wouldn't shoot me, princess,” he said. “You're a lot of things – like an ungrateful little bitch for starters – but you're not a killer. You don't have it in you. I can see the fear in your eyes.”
“Don't call her princess,” Deacon said as he stepped up beside me. “And you should apologize for calling her a bitch, while you're at it.”
I cracked a smile. He remembered how I felt about terms of endearment like that. It was patronizing and condescending, and when someone like Tony used them, it filled me with a deep, abiding anger. I could deal with a lot of things, but being patronized or condescended to were things I couldn't deal with. Wouldn't deal with. From anybody.
I considered taking a play from Deacon's book and aiming for the shoulder as I squeezed off a shot – mostly just to prove to the old son of a bitch that I could indeed pull the trigger. But Tony lunged toward me suddenly and I shot on reflex. The noise the gun made as it went off sounded like a cannon and the shockwave from the recoil reverberated all the way up my arm and into my shoulder. It had a kick stronger than I'd anticipated.
Because it had all happened so fast, Deacon hadn't even reacted in time and I'd been unable to focus on where I was shooting. I didn't have the time to aim as Tony lunged for me. His body collided with mine, knocking me to the ground, and driving the air from my lungs. I screamed as his body pinned mine to the ground. It took me a moment to realize Tony wasn't moving. And until Deacon reached down and pulled the old man off of me, I hadn't even realized where the bullet I'd fired had hit.
Right smack dab in the middle of his chest. His blood was pouring all over me and when he looked into my eyes, I saw pain blended with hate radiating within them. If he'd had the strength, he would have strangled me right then and there.
Tony, while not dead, was going to be soon. If he didn't get help, anyway. But I got the feeling that nobody at my father's house was going to go out of their way for him. I didn't think that anybody would be calling an ambulance – at least, not for a little while.
Deacon hauled me to my feet and I looked down at myself – grimacing at the sight of Tony's blood covering me. I looked up and saw that of the three who'd been standing with Tony, only one of the Irishmen remained. I didn't know why he was still alive, but he was just standing there, looking back at us. He wasn't holding a weapon and he didn't look threatening.
I didn't understand what was happening, but Deacon kept his gun trained on him. The other man though, held his hands up and didn't make any overtly threatening gestures. Simply judging by his body language, I didn't think he was going to be a problem for us – the look on his face told me that he respected Deacon. Liked him.
“Neil, let us past,” Deacon said. “Please. I don't want to hurt you. That's the last thing I want, brother.”
“Your truck is gone, man,” the man named Neil replied. “How are you going to get out of here?”
“We'll find a way,” Deacon replied. “Don't make me shoot you too. You know I don't want to do it, but I will if I have to.”
“You wouldn't – ” But Neil must have seen the look in Deacon's eyes because he stopped talking and looked down at the ground. “I'm sorry it's come to this, brother. I never wanted this. I really didn't.”
“I didn't want it to come to this either, man,” Deacon said. “Trust me on that, Neil. I didn't want this either. I just wanted something – different.”
“Here!” Neil said, tossing something over to him.
Deacon stared down at what was in his hand for a moment before looking back at his friend, a questioning look upon his face. He held up the keyring to me and dropped it into my hand.
“It's one of your cars anyway,” Neil said and smiled. “Figured you might like it back. Should help you get where you're going.”
Deacon thanked Neil and we rushed from the back of the house and toward a car parked out front. Climbing inside quickly, we drove off as fast as humanly possible, leaving my father and my former life behind. For good.
Reaching out, I took Deacon's hand in mine. Things might not be easy from here on out. We were alone and we would struggle. But we had each other, and soon enough, we'd have a child. Maybe several more. Life was already beginning to look up.
“Buenos Aires, here we come, baby,” Deacon said, winking at me.
I smiled as I looked back at him. I was free. For the first time in my life, I was free.
THE END
Older Man Younger Woman Romance
OBSESSED
Chapter One
SABRINA
“Oh Julian,” I muttered to myself, gripping my pillow in one hand, careful to keep my voice low.
My parents weren't home – at least, not that I was aware of – but I knew that Rosa, our housekeeper was there and was busy making her rounds of the house. Despite the risk of Rosa walking in on me, I couldn't help myself. I needed release. I needed to get off.
Though honestly, I couldn't even begin to imagine how awkward it would be to explain to her what I was doing – although I had a feeling she'd have a very good idea of what I was doing. What would be difficult and awkward to explain was why I was calling out my father's friend's name while I was doing it.
With my vibrator clutched in a near death grip as I bit down on the inside of my cheek to keep from crying out, I massaged my clit as I imagined Julian's tongue upon me. I pictured his face, the feel of his stubble on the insides of my thighs. Imagined the feel of his hands as he spread my legs apart and buried his tongue deep inside of me. I imagined feeling him slide two fingers deep into my tight little pussy as he sucked on my clit – it was enough that I almost lost control and came right there. But I wanted to make it last a little longer – prolong the pleasure a bit.
It was true that I'd never experienced any of that with Julian before – but I had a very good imagination and could pretend I had. I could imagine what it would be like for him to taste me, to savor me, to feel me – to make me cum harder than I ever had before in my life.