Unfinished Hero 04 Deacon (30 page)

He dipped his head, brushed his lips against
mine, and said there, “Then I’ll give it to you.”

“Yippee,” I whispered and watched his eyes
smile. “Am I gonna be able to tie you down?” I asked.

“Absolutely.”

I felt my eyes widen, thinking he’d decline.
Gently, of course, but he’d do it.

“Seriously?”

He lifted his head half an inch. “Oh yeah,
Cassie. Figure I give it to you enough, you’ll get good ideas. Rock
my world.”

Oh my God.

Awesome.

“No ass play,” he went on to state. “I like
ass, I’ll take yours. Plug it. Fuck it. But that’s somethin’ you
don’t do in return, but I reckon that’s the only thing.”

The only thing?

Oh. My. God.

Awesome.

“Have you, uh…tried that before? I mean, with
your ass.”

“Had a woman give me her finger while I was
bangin’ her. No problem with that. She got off on it and I didn’t
mind. You wanna give it, figure if I get that from you, I’ll
probably like it. More than that, I’m just not interested.”

I made a mental note of that.

“See she’s planning,” he muttered, his eyes
dancing.

“Maybe.”

He dipped his head again to give me another
lip brush and said against my mouth, “Look forward to that.”

I grinned at him but watched his face get
serious and his voice was low when he asked, “Anything I did you
didn’t like?”

“Nothing,” I replied immediately.

“Do not hide that shit, Cassie. It’s
important I know.”

I pressed my body up into his as best as I
could when I said, “I know. I trusted you, you trust me. Honestly,
do you think I wouldn’t tell you?”

“Noticed you don’t have a problem speakin’
your mind.”

I grinned again. “Nope.”

“Also noticed you’re still bound, baby, and
you haven’t asked me to untie you.”

The way he said that sounded like it was
important.

“I—”

“You’re good there,” he stated.

“Well, I wouldn’t mind touching you, but
you’re lying on me, so I guess I’m good.”

He started chuckling, giving his humor to me
in a variety of sensory ways, all of which I freaking
adored
.

He dipped closer again but didn’t brush my
lips. “Clean you tied, Cassie. I want you to give me that, exposed
and bound for me as I take care of your pussy. Then I’ll untie you
and we can sleep.”

“I’ll give you that, honey.”

He looked into my eyes and I had a feeling
that was even more important, I just didn’t know how because all he
said was, “Yeah.”

Then he touched his mouth to mine, slid his
cock out, and moved down my body, touching his lips to my
breastbone, my midriff, my navel, the hair between my legs, and
inside each thigh.

That done, leaving me with the warmth that
tenderness gave me, he rolled off the bed, came back with a warm
washcloth, and looked into my eyes as he cleaned gently between my
legs.

I squirmed a bit, my lips parted, his eyes
darkened, but after he “took care of my pussy,” he went back to the
bathroom. Only then did he return to the bed and untie me.

Commence Deacon repositioning me under the
covers, rolling us this way and that to turn out both the lights.
This was something I let him do without lip, seeing as I could turn
out my own light. I was relishing being able to wrap my arms around
him. Then he settled us in our customary going to sleep
position.

I listened to his breath even and I was
relaxed, totally. Happy, completely. Fulfilled, undeniably.

But I still could talk.

“I loved that.”

“Got that when you came hard and loud, nearly
bowing the headboard.”

I grinned against his chest.

My grin died and I pressed close, turning my
head and kissing his skin.

“Thank you for giving it to me,” I whispered
there.

His arm around me tightened in that way it
did when he felt deep and wanted to communicate it to me. So tight,
I almost felt pain.

But this time, he added words.

“The day you got me tied to this bed, Cassie,
will be the day you understand that it’s me who should give the
gratitude.”

I liked that so much, to communicate it I
pressed my face into his chest.

He slid his hand up to wrap it around the
back of my neck.

“Sleep,” he ordered quietly.

I turned my head to rest my cheek against his
chest.

“’Night, Deacon.”

“’Night, my Cassie.”

My Cassie.

That was me. Deacon’s Cassie.

I closed my eyes.

Deacon moved his hand from my neck to wrap
his arm around my back.

Only then did I sleep.

* * * * *

The next day, I quit falling.

The next day, I fell, landed, and knew deep
in my heart with a landing so soft and sweet it felt like I’d been
enveloped by a cloud, I’d landed right where I needed to be.

In other words, the next day was the day when
I realized I was in love with Deacon.

It could have happened the night before with
the way he made love to me. And make no mistake, he might have
fucked me hard and rough while I was tied to my bed, but it was
making love.

However, I was too overwhelmed by the
experience to process it at the time.

I was far more alert the next day when we
walked into the house of the dog breeder, the man opened a door,
and five baby German Shepherds bounded out.

They raced right to Deacon and me but they
switched paths quickly because it was Deacon who crouched
first.

I watched, standing still, attention fixed
completely as it appeared my man was trying to pet all five at once
with his big hands.

Then it happened.

A little girl puppy got peeved, started
nosing her brothers and sisters, yapping at them, doing her puppy
best to push them where she wanted them, miraculously got her
opening, and jumped up, clawing Deacon’s jeans at his knee.

“Boss lady,” I heard Deacon murmur as I
belatedly crouched too. The rest of the puppies galloped my way
when Deacon’s hands wrapped around the girl puppy and he lifted her
to his chest.

I did my best to stroke and scratch the
gaggle of pups that were climbing about my legs, but I did this
with my eyes to Deacon, watching the dog lick his jaw and not
stop.

He looked to me.

“This one,” he decreed.

Absolutely.

That one.

“Boss Lady,” he stated.

Absolutely.

That was her name.

There was intensity in his eyes that
tightened my stomach just like you feel right before going over the
crest of a very tall climb on a roller coaster, loving where you
are, excited about it, but you can’t wait to see what happens
next.

“Boss Lady for my Cassie Boss,” he
finished.

“Okay, honey,” I whispered, unable to make my
voice louder.

The pup stopped licking him and started
yapping.

Deacon straightened.

She stopped yapping. This was because she got
what she wanted. I knew this when she started licking him
again.

Deacon didn’t stop her.

And that soft, sweet cloud wrapped closer
around me.

* * * * *

Two weeks later, I stood at the top of the
steps of my porch, Bossy in my arms squirming, Deacon a step down,
arms around both of us, making out with me.

I didn’t want it to end. Ever.

He ended it.

“Be back, soon’s I can,” he said gently.

“Okay, honey.”

“Okay.”

He touched his forehead to mine and moved one
hand to my neck, fingertips back and in my hair, then he gave me a
squeeze.

I drew in breath.

He let me go, scratched Bossy’s head, and she
yapped.

He grinned.

I let my breath go.

His eyes came to mine and I smiled.

I kept smiling as he walked down the steps
and got into his Suburban.

Bossy and I stood there as he started it up
and drove down the lane, me waving, Bossy yapping.

Deacon turned right at the top of the
lane.

Only then did my smile fade. I walked Bossy
into the house, closing the door behind us.

I put my pup on the floor and Bossy
yapped.

“He’ll be back, darlin’.”

She yapped again, unhappy.

She was not alone.

But he would be back.

And one day, one day I hoped was soon, he’d
be back in a way he’d never leave.

Miracle

“He’s here,” I whispered, eyes to the window,
watching the headlights gleam through the dark on my lane.

Bossy yapped.

I ran to the front door, stopped, and toed my
baby back. “I get my reunion first.”

She protested by trying to attack the strap
of my flip-flop.

I gently fended her off and quickly slipped
through the door.

I walked to the top of the steps and stopped,
my heart beating hard as I watched Deacon unfold from the driver’s
seat. Then I watched him walk to me.

When he was at the bottom of the steps, I
asked, “Did you eat?”

His eyes were on mine. Then again, they had
been since he got out of his truck.

“Welcome to check the cab after you fuck me
hard and I crash, woman. Chip bags and shit all over.
Evidence.”

He stopped one step down from me.

“I take it, you needing to crash, you didn’t
sleep,” I noted.

He grinned at me.

He didn’t sleep.

Whatever.

I leaped into his arms.

His hands at my ass, my arms and legs around
him, we kissed as he walked us into the house.

A week and a half, nothing but phone calls
(these Deacon returned, if he didn’t answer right away). Then the
call, the good call that said he was on his way home.

He used his boot to close the door and
Bossy’s excited puppy demands came fast and furious.

Deacon broke our clinch to look down at our
dog.

“Yo, Boss Lady.”

Bossy yapped.

His fingers pressed into my ass and I took
that as a sign to let him go. When he put me to my feet, he bent,
scooped up Bossy, and gave her a cuddle.

I smiled gleefully. Bossy licked his jaw
gleefully.

That gave me more glee.

His eyes came to me.

“I put her in her crate; you go upstairs and
get naked.”

I stopped smiling when my thighs started
quivering.

“Now, Cassie,” he ordered gently.

I nodded, turned, and dashed up the
stairs.

I was naked by the time Deacon joined me.

Boss Lady didn’t have a great night, cooped
up in her kennel with Daddy just home.

But Deacon was back.

So mine was
awesome
.

* * * * *

“I’m unavailable,” Deacon said into his phone
the next morning while standing at the stove, shuffling bacon in a
skillet, Bossy attacking the hem of his jeans. “At least three
weeks.”

At least three weeks.

Yippee.

I was pouring cereal and listening, mostly
because Deacon wasn’t hiding this call, like he didn’t hide the
call that took him away from me a week and a half ago.

I liked this. This was open, not covert,
hiding, keeping things from me. No, this was Deacon giving himself
to me.

Yes, I liked this.

I put the cereal box back and went for the
milk.

“You need someone, call Raid and his team,”
he continued.

Raid?

I poured milk.

“Told you before, they’re solid. You need
this done, you call them. Got nothin’ more for you. I got somethin’
on that’s priority.”

Priority.

That made me feel warm and squishy.

“You got his number,” Deacon finished,
disconnecting, and tossing his phone on the counter. “Gotta bury
that in a drawer,” he muttered like he was talking to himself.

“I have you for three weeks?” I asked,
putting the milk back.

“At least,” he answered.

I turned from the fridge and smiled big at
him.

The grooves hit the sides of his mouth and he
looked down at the skillet.

Bossy started growling. I looked to her and
saw she’d found purchase on Deacon’s jeans and was tugging back
with puppy viciousness.

Deacon ignored her.

More warm and squishy.

I grabbed a spoon, picked up my bowl, put a
hip to the counter, and started eating.

After bite three, when Deacon was
transferring bacon to a plate covered in paper towels, I asked,
“Who’s Raid?”

I got warmer and squishier when Deacon’s
response was immediate.

“Colleague. Friend.” His eyes came to mine.
“One of the three decent people I’ve spent time with in the last
decade. One of the handful I’d trust knowin’ you.”

That surprised me.

“Knowing me?”

“When I leave that life, Raid is one of three
I won’t leave behind.”

Oh my God. I might meet his friends!

I tamped down my excitement at this and
remarked casually, “A close bud.”

“A good man, and yeah, a close bud.”

I drew in a breath to give myself courage to
take a risk. Then I took it.

“Who are the other two?”

Again, Deacon answered immediately. “Knight
Sebring. Marcus Sloan.” He moved his attention to the skillet where
his eggs were waiting and muttered, “And maybe Tucker and Sylvie
Creed.”

“Tucker and Sylvie?” I prompted.

He slid his eggs on a waiting plate and
looked to me. “Don’t know them well, know Sylvie better, seein’ as
she worked with Knight before she got herself hitched to Creed, but
did a job with them a while back, and what I know, they seem
solid.”

I nodded and cautiously offered, “They’re all
welcome at Glacier Lily.”

He tossed his bacon on the plate, nabbed the
waiting fork, and turned to me, hip to the counter, grinning at
me.

“Anyone who isn’t?”

“Rapists. Murderers. Racists. Bigots. Hitler.
Pol Pot—”