Unfinished Hero 04 Deacon (16 page)

I liked that look so I kept teasing.

“And they melt when confronted with a
pregnant German Shepherd.”

He’d done just that. Badass one-name Deacon
melted right before my eyes. I watched and did it almost having an
orgasm, at the same time wondering if you could fall in love in an
instant.

He took a sip of his bourbon before he
replied, “Man’s no man at all, he doesn’t like dogs.”

I started giggling.

He looked to me. “Disagree?”

I stopped giggling and replied, “I think
people can like what they wanna like. Though, I don’t really
understand not being a dog person. Or a cat person. Actually, an
animal person.”

Deacon looked back at the trees, asking, “So
why am I buyin’ you a dog six years down the road?”

He’d done that too. Bought the dog for
me.

Pure breed dogs were not inexpensive. Pure
breed dogs with an incentive to jump the list and get first pick
cost fifteen one-hundred-dollar bills.

Fifteen.

When I saw the cash, I’d wrapped a hand
around Deacon’s forearm and opened my mouth to protest. But the
second I touched him, he tipped his chin down at me and gave me a
look that needed no words whatsoever. So I didn’t say anything.

At the time.

I brought it up in the Suburban.

His response was, “Done, woman. No use
talkin’ about it.”

This was true.

And false.

I went with the false bit, continued my
protest, and got a different response.

“Right. What I meant by no use talkin’ about
it is we’re not talkin’ about it.”

And then he didn’t talk about it.

At all.

Even though I did.

Which meant I had no choice but to quit.

He wanted to buy me a dog, I’d let him do it,
partly because it was sweet, but mostly because I had no
choice.

“I didn’t have the time for a dog,” I told
him.

“Cabins take a lotta upkeep?”

“Not really. I have them the way I want them.
It’s mostly puttering around, making the space nice, welcoming. A
place people drive up to that makes them think immediately they
made the right choice. And Milagros helps a lot. It’s just that,
once I got the cabins the way I wanted them, I started working on
the house.”

“House looks sweet, Cassie,” he said
softly.

I was glad he felt that way. Actually, I was
glad he noticed at all.

“Thanks, honey,” I replied softly. Then I
sighed and said, “I guess what I’m saying is, I didn’t think I had
the time. But now that I have pick of the litter, the time is
right.”

He didn’t reply. He just took another sip of
bourbon.

I did too.

We lapsed into silence.

I broke it.

“Since I was thirteen, this was all I
wanted.”

I felt his eyes on me but I kept mine on the
trees and continued speaking.

“My own business in Colorado. My parents
brought us here when I was thirteen and because I begged, they kept
bringing us. I fell in love and knew this was where I’d live my
life, doing something I enjoyed doing, close to the slopes so I
could snowboard. But mostly this, the day being done, taking a load
off, surrounded by beauty.”

“Thirteen?” he asked and I looked to him.

“Thirteen.”

“Not the usual little girl dream,” he
noted.

“I wasn’t the usual little girl,” I
shared.

He looked back to the trees, murmuring,
“You’re not a usual woman.”

I turned my attention to the trees, murmuring
back, “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“Meant as one.”

I grinned into my glass and took a sip.

Then I kept talking.

“A lot of people would think I’m crazy, but
this is all I want. I want to be sitting right here when I’m
eighty, listening to the river, gazing at the trees.”

“Nothin’ crazy about that.”

Oh man.

I liked that he thought that.

I took in a deep breath and let it out,
asking, “Where do you wanna be when you’re eighty?”

“Don’t fuck up and blow my shot, sittin’ on
my ass on a chair that I’m glad now has a pad, next to a decent
woman with beautiful eyes, lips made to be kissed, and phenomenal
hair, listenin’ to a river and starin’ at some trees.”

Yes.

I was crazy.

Absolutely.

Because I was filled with glee that he wanted
that.

Not to mention the sweet things he said to
me.

“Though,” he continued, “only if she doesn’t
turn out to be a crazy bitch who loses her mind if I don’t put my
towel on the rail the exact way she wants it to be.”

I looked to him, grinning.

“Towel placement is super-important,
Deacon.”

He said nothing but in the dim light coming
from my lit kitchen, I saw his eyes crinkle.

“Coaster usage is too,” I went on.

The eye crinkles stayed where they were even
as he took a sip of bourbon.

“Not to mention, appropriate care and
cleaning of your vehicle.”

He had something to say to that.

“A truck that’s not dirty is not a truck.
It’s a pussy wagon.”

I burst out laughing.

“I’m not joking,” he said through my
laughter, which made me laugh harder.

It also made me get up, put my glass on the
railing, and move to him.

I saw his head tipped back, watching me, but
he didn’t move an inch as I maneuvered over him, tucking a knee
into the seat at his hip and swinging a leg wide to straddle
him.

When I settled my ass to his thighs, I put
both hands to his chest and leaned in. He put his hand without the
glass to my ass, rested his head back on the seat, and let me.

“I decorated eleven for you,” I whispered
after I got into position.

His hand clenched my ass and the eye crinkles
vanished.

“I wanted you to have a place that you were
comfortable being,” I told him.

“Cement countertops were a good touch, baby,”
he told me.

It was so cool he noticed the countertops so
I got closer and smiled.

His hand slid up my spine.

I held his eyes and felt my smile leave when
I told him, “You hurt my feelings when you paid for Christmas.”

“Needed to give that message, Cassie.”

“I know, but it still hurt.”

His hand rounded my shoulder and cupped the
side of my neck when he whispered, “Sorry, baby.”

“Make it up to me. Let me pay you back for
the dog.”

He slid his hand into my hair and pulled me
closer to his face.

“Future reference, this game you’re playin’
to get your way, it’s gonna work a lot of the time. When it’s about
me givin’ you somethin’ that’s doin’ somethin’ for me, like givin’
me peace of mind I did what I could to keep you safe when I’m not
here, it’s a game you’re gonna lose.”

There it was. More happy. And he even managed
it while denying me something I wanted.

I totally had to step up my game.

“No fair,” I said quietly. “You can’t give me
a reason that makes me feel all warm and squishy when you’re not
giving me my way.”

I heard that thread of humor in his voice and
it wasn’t near as slender when he asked, “Warm and squishy?”

I dipped closer, sliding my lips along his
cheek to his ear as I rolled my hips in his lap, and whispered,
“
Squishy.
”

His head moved and I turned mine in time to
see him belting back his bourbon.

A beat later, the glass landed on the arm of
his chair with a thud, and a beat after that, we were out of that
chair, one of his arms under my ass holding me wrapped around him,
the other one at the back of my neck, holding me tight to him.

“I take it it’s time for bed,” I noted as he
walked us to the door to the kitchen.

“Yup.”

I dipped in again and said against his neck,
“Yippee.”

His arms gave me a squeeze as he walked us
into my house.

Then he carried me to bed.

* * * * *

I slid Deacon’s cock out of my mouth, licked
the tip, and called, “Deacon?”

I didn’t have to call him. I was curled
between his legs, his knees cocked, shoulders to the headboard, and
he was watching me.

“What?” he growled, the sound coming from
deep, like it was torn from him.

I licked the tip again and said, “I don’t
know why.”

“What?” he repeated.

I licked him from base to tip, my eyes glued
to his, then I swirled the head with my tongue, watching his face
get darker and darker, his jaw harder and harder, his legs more
tense as he watched me. I did all this fighting the urge to squirm
or climb on and ride him until I gave it to him. And me.

I wrapped my fist around him, pulling his
cock away from where it was lying on his stomach, and said, “I
don’t know why it’s you.”

“Jesus, woman, you wanna share this with me
now?”

I stroked him with my hand and whispered, “I
just know it’s you.”

His face got darker and I knew it wasn’t just
because of what I was doing with my hand.

I kept whispering when I shared, “Because you
make me happy.”

I lost purchase on his shaft when he did an
ab curl and grasped me under my arms. With a yank, I was up and
moving swiftly, landing on my belly on the bed. I felt Deacon’s
knees pushing my legs apart as he positioned, his hands on my hips
hauling me up.

He barely got my knees under me before he
thrust in, yanking my hips back, drilling me.

And I was even
more
happy.

“Baby,” I whimpered.

Then, no other way to put it, even though
he’d already pretty much mounted me, he finished that by curving
his body over mine, putting a forearm into the bed beside me, thus
mounting me
.

He pulled my hair away from my face and put
his lips close to my ear.

“Future,” he grunted, still driving deep.
“That game you just played, you play it again, you’re gonna win,
but I’m gonna choose how you get the prize.”

“Okay,” I breathed, deciding to play that
game a lot as in,
a lot
.

And again I was up because he wrapped both
arms around me and hauled me up so I was back to his front, impaled
on his cock.

God.

Heavenly.

He held me to him and took me that way for a
while before he bent again and had me ass in the air and took me
that way for a while.

Finally, he pulled out, turned me to my back,
shoved my legs up with his hands behind my knees, and mounted me
again. He took me that way until I exploded beneath him, tensing
against his grip, jerking against his thrusts, and calling his
name.

He kept thrusting but he gave me time before
he ordered, “Woman, look at me.”

I focused on him over me, still gripping my
knees high and wide, still pounding inside me.

“Watch what you do to me,” he grunted.

I could do that. I
so
could do
that.

“Whatever you want, baby.”

Then I gave him what he wanted and watched
what I did to him, doing it gleefully. I did this all the way
through to when he started bucking between my legs, every
beautiful, bunched muscle in his body standing out in gorgeous
relief, and his head shot back as he poured himself inside me.

Seconds later, he released my legs and
dropped over me, taking only a minimum of his substantial weight
into a forearm beside me.

I didn’t mind taking his weight. I liked
it.

But, still.

I was peeved.

“No fair,” I said to the ceiling, sounding as
annoyed as I was.

I felt his body tense and he lifted his head
to look down at me.

He, too, looked peeved.

“Are you shittin’ me?” he asked.

“No,” I snapped, somewhat breathily since he
was heavy, but mostly because I was still riding the high of great
sex and being with Deacon.

His brows shot together and a few days ago,
that would have been more than a little daunting.

Right then, it was not.

“You got my dick in your mouth, the first
head I’ve had in seven years, you’re workin’ fuckin’ magic, you
stop to have a heartfelt chat, I retaliate, and you think that’s
not fair?” he asked.

“That’s not what I’m talking about. I’m
talking about how you keep one-upping me in the happiness
stakes.”

His brows shot up at that. “The happiness
stakes?”

“I’m supposed to be making you happy, not the
other way around.”

The scowl he was delivering faded as he
stared at me.

Then he gave me all of his weight, crushing
me to the bed when he burst out laughing.

The sound filled the room, filled my senses.
The feel shook me and not just physically. Emotionally in ways I
knew I’d never forget that feel for my whole life. All of it, the
wealth of beauty soaked into my skin, and when it did I knew the
man on top of me laughing was it. The one. The world. The man made
for me. The man I was going to fall in love with. The only man I’d
ever really love.

That was why I’d made my choice.

That was why I would long for him if he’d
decided to leave me.

That was what I knew would haunt me. Not
wondering how it could have been, knowing I’d lost everything if he
didn’t give me the chance to make him laugh just like he was
doing.

And there it was again.

Just by laughing, he one-upped me.

“Ugh, you’re one-upping me again,” I
announced irately.

He shifted slightly to my side by getting up
on a forearm but staying connected to me.

“How’s that?” he asked, still chuckling.

“You have a great laugh,” I answered
exasperatedly.

He stopped laughing but kept grinning (more
freaking happy!) as he cupped my jaw and dipped his face close.
“Cassie, you made me laugh.”

“I couldn’t miss that, Deacon.”

His thumb swept my cheek and he stopped
grinning.

“Baby, you made me
laugh
.”