Unfinished Hero 04 Deacon (43 page)

“Fuck no,” he answered.

“So, your woman isn’t done with you playing
with her.”

“That woman’s gonna be the death of me.”

“It’s you who makes it so hot I want more,” I
accused.

“It’s you grindin’ your cunt in my face as
you moan then tippin’ your ass and takin’ it hard while you
whimper. And it’s you pressin’ your tits in my back while you pant
in my neck and jack my ass and dick, Cassie. So it’s arguable who
makes it hot. But I’m not gonna argue about it. If you wanna look
at it that way, not gonna stop you.”

I grinned at him.

He moved us and fell forward, settling me on
my back in the bed with him on me.

He nuzzled and stroked me for a while. I let
him for that while and returned the favor.

Finally, his lips went to my ear.

“You want vanilla, you want me to go down on
you again, or does my Cassie want her ass spanked?”

My limbs around him convulsed when he said
the word “spanked.”

I felt his smile against my neck before he
murmured, “Red ass,” while his hand shoved under me and cupped it.
“You want that plugged?”

“Yes, baby,” I whispered.

“Okay, Cassie. His for hers. You take out
mine, I’ll go get yours.”

I held fast. “I changed my mind.”

“No spanking?”

I lifted my head, shifted it, and said in his
ear, “Will you work me full?”

“She’s not done with my ass,” he
muttered.

I dropped my head to the pillow and caught
his eyes. “You don’t have to—”

“Baby, you want it?”

“Yes,” I whispered.

“Then you get it.”

“But—”

“Did I give you any indication I didn’t like
what you just gave me?”

He absolutely didn’t.

“No.”

“We make a deal. I work you full, spank your
plugged ass, after I give it to you, you suck me while you fuck me
and I eat you, givin’ it to you again while you give it to me. That
work for you?”

I writhed underneath him.

His lips twitched. “It works for you.”

“Yeah, honey.”

He rolled, kissed my hip, and exited the bed
to get my toy.

Some time later, I got a red ass and two more
orgasms.

Deacon didn’t get the former, but he got one
of the latter.

Only then was I done.

And Deacon, who, if he had it in him, gave me
what I wanted (and he
so
had it in him), only then left the
bed to let Bossy in (Priest had to sleep in his kennel, poor baby)
and rejoin me there.

We nestled together and went to sleep while
Bossy snored, lying on the floor on Deacon’s side of the bed.

* * * * *

I sat in the Suburban watching Deacon saunter
back from the building.

He got in and we both looked to the
building.

We waited.

The receptionist came back. Through the
windows, we saw her read the note. We heard her shout from where we
were all the way across the street. Then we watched her run, arms
in the air waving excitedly, back down the hallway.

That was when Deacon started the Suburban and
sent her on her way.

“We should wait around and watch the
celebration,” I noted.

“Don’t need to.”

“It’d be cool to see.”

“Sure it would, woman, still don’t need to
see it.”

I turned my head to look back at the building
getting smaller in the distance.

It was the fourth one we’d been to and the
last one we were going to. Each one, if they had security, Deacon
disabled it with his secret Deacon ways before we sat and watched
it, waited until the front area was vacant, then he walked in with
his bag and dropped it on the reception desk.

This building had a sign over it that said
Sacred Heart Healing Center
.

It was a non-profit drug rehabilitation
center.

And moments ago, the receptionist hit her
desk and found a bag filled with half a million dollars in cash and
a note that said it was an anonymous gift given in the name of one
who had surrendered.

He’d given away two million dollars to four
charitable drug rehab clinics.

He was keeping the rest for a rainy day.

Did I say I loved my man?

I loved my man
.

* * * * *

I heard it so I grinned, bent, grabbed the
tray with my oven-gloved hand, pulled it out of the oven, and
walked out of the kitchen, both Bossy and Priest at my heels.

I kept hold of the tray while I reached out
and opened the door.

Bossy raced out in front of me. Priest
followed, floppy ears bouncing, mostly galloping.

I strolled out, stopping at the top of the
steps, looking down them to Deacon dismounting a shiny, black,
totally kickass, vintage Harley-Davidson motorcycle.

He gave Bossy a rubdown, snatched up Priest,
then came up the steps to me.

He nabbed a cookie from the tray even if it
was still hot. And apparently, badasses didn’t get their mouths
burned on hot snickerdoodles since he popped it into his mouth and
immediately started chewing.

“Looks nice,” I noted about the bike after he
swallowed hot cookie.

“Gettin’ you an apron,” he replied
strangely.

“Sorry?”

“You in an apron, makin’ me cookies.”

I rolled my eyes.

When I rolled them back, he was grinning.

“Take off your jeans, top, bra, panties, keep
the apron on, fuck you against the kitchen counter.”

My legs started trembling.

That
I could do.

“Though,” he said reflectively, “might keep
on the panties but pulled down around your thighs.”

I glared. “Do you want me to drop these
cookies I slaved over while I experience a spontaneous orgasm on
the front porch?”

He grinned again. “Maybe.”

I rolled my eyes again.

When I rolled them back, Deacon was leaned in
to me.

“Want a ride?”

I didn’t hesitate.

“Absolutely.”

He leaned back. “Go get rid of the tray,
woman.”

I went and got rid of the tray.

Deacon went to put Priest in his kennel.

We left Bossy behind as I went back out with
my man.

I swung up behind him on the back of his new
bike, he revved it, and I felt quivers assault my nether
regions.

We took off.

And life was sweet.

* * * * *

I sat on the steps of the gazebo facing the
river, its riverbanks edged with a plethora of wildflowers.

So was the area round the gazebo.

The steps were also lined with pots of
thriving flowering plants and trailing greenery, more boxes were
hooked to all the railings containing the same.

It was gorgeous. I loved it. The plants made
it awesome.

But the fact that Deacon built it for me made
it magnificent.

I also had a laundry building and I’d been
right, those machines cost a whack, we were making a mint.

I’d let Deacon pay for all of it.

His buy-in.

A statement needed to be made.

We were partners.

In everything.

Though, that didn’t mean I didn’t bust his
chops. I did.

But he liked it (mostly because I gave
in).

I thought that was good but beautiful war was
waged over the fact that Deacon didn’t. In the end, he won that too
by paying back my dad, with interest. He also paid the mortgage
every other month.

I didn’t grouse. There was no need.

We were in this together.

He’d found work in construction, working for
a man who had a business in Gnaw Bone named Holden “Max” Maxwell.
Weirdly, this was the man who married the woman who got attacked at
my cabins years ago.

Strange how life connected like that.

He was a good guy. His wife Nina was an
awesome lady, a bit crazy and more outspoken than me, so I dug her.
They had two kids. They’d been over for dinner. We’d been over to
their place. And when Max lost one of his foremen, he’d promoted
Deacon.

Deacon had been working for him for a
month.

Seemed Holden Maxwell wasn’t only smart
enough to get himself tied to a tough broad, he was smart enough to
see he had talent on his team.

So far, Uncle Sam had not cottoned on to
Deacon rejoining the citizenry.

That might happen but I wasn’t worried.
Deacon and I could weather any storm.

We’d proved that.

Life with Deacon was a beautiful war no way
we could lose.

I heard his boots on the steps that led up on
the other side, but I didn’t move.

I also heard Bossy’s claws.

She hadn’t defected from me. She still loved
her momma. But she preferred Deacon.

I didn’t mind.

I did too.

Then again, it was becoming clear Priest
preferred me.

Payback.

My eyes searched for my puppy but he didn’t
come out with his daddy. This boded good things, since if he did,
we’d need to pay attention so he didn’t get in trouble.

And thus this said Deacon was intent to give
his attention to me.

I knew this to be true when Deacon didn’t sit
beside me. He sat behind me and surrounded me with his long legs,
feet to the step where mine were, his arms wrapping around my
middle.

I felt his chin rest on my shoulder and
closed my eyes.

Happy.

Completely and utterly.

I opened my eyes.

“Thanks for my gazebo,” I said softly.

I heard the grin in his voice when he
replied, “Not a problem.”

He was happy too.

So I was happier.

“Thanks for my laundry building.”

There was a thread of humor in his voice when
he said, “Not a problem.”

And even happier.

“Thanks for being you.”

His arms tightened and the humor was gone
when he repeated, “Not a problem, Cassie.”

“Thanks for letting me be me.”

More tightening, then, “
Definitely
not
a problem.”

“Thank you for loving me,” I whispered.

No reply. Just his arms got so tight I could
barely breathe.

When he released the pressure, I went on.

“And thanks for letting me love you.”

“Makin’ this easy,” he said weirdly.

“Sorry?”

He let me go but didn’t move away. One of his
hands caught my left one, the other one disappeared.

It came back.

And when it did, I stopped breathing.

This was because he was sliding a princess
cut diamond set in a thick platinum band on my ring finger.

“Marry me,” he whispered into my ear.

Sheesh. Deacon was
so totally
rejoining the citizenry.

My eyes started stinging.

His hand curled around mine tight.

“Right here, in this gazebo, soon as you
want, late as you want, big, small, grand, quiet, I don’t give a
fuck. Whatever you want, just so when it’s over, you’re tied to me
legally and got my name.”

My head fell back so it wouldn’t fall
forward. I turned it and pressed my forehead into his neck.

“We get hitched,” he went on, “we find our
time, then we make a baby. But you go off your pills, the first
time it could be a go, we start that work in my bed in cabin
eleven.”

Cabin eleven.

God, I so loved Deacon.

To share that, I replied, “I’ll take your
name, Deacon. I’ll take anything you want to give me. And I’ll make
a baby with you in cabin eleven, in our bed at the house, on the
moon.”

“Then give me your mouth, woman, no argument,
right now.”

Like I’d argue.

I tipped my head back but didn’t give it. He
took it. He did this a long time. He did this until Bossy joined us
and started licking our faces, wanting in on the act.

We broke it off but Deacon’s arms were back
around me so it was me who drove my fingers into her ruff and
asked, “You gonna wear a big pink bow when Momma marries Daddy in
this gazebo?”

She panted and licked my face.

Deacon started laughing.

I took that as a yes.

* * * * *

Deep in the night, I was tucked tight to
Deacon’s back, arm around him, when I felt his body jerk before I
felt the covers thrown off me.

“Baby, what on—?” I started.

He was off the bed and I could tell by the
noises he was pulling on his jeans.

“Do not move,” he growled. “And do not fight
me, Cassie. You stay up here with Bossy and don’t move.”

My heart clutched.

He bent, nabbed his tee, and stalked to the
door through the dark.

“Stay with Cassie,” he ordered Bossy.

I watched through the shadows as Bossy did as
she was told, sitting on her behind, but she barked at the door
when Deacon closed us in.

I jumped from the bed and dashed around the
room, tugging on the clothes Deacon had taken off when he’d made
love to me hours before.

Then I approached the window at the side,
carefully peeking through the edge of the sheers and down to the
lane.

The motion sensor lights were on. By their
light, I saw Raid’s jeep, a sleek, expensive looking car, a
Mercedes, and an SUV that was not Deacon’s or mine.

He’d heard that cavalcade coming.

God, was his old life knocking at the
door?

Bossy gave me a sharp but quiet bark and I
looked down to see her at attention three feet from me.

She wanted me away from the window.

Daddy’s girl.

Still, I moved away. That settled her and she
sat on her heiny until suddenly her head jerked toward the
door.

She trotted to it just as it opened.

I wasn’t surprised. I, too, heard Deacon
coming up the stairs.

“Cassidy, got a situation. Come down, yeah?
Raid’s here. So are Knight, Marcus, Creed, and Sylvie.”

What was going on?

Before I could ask, he continued,” As well as
Hanna, Knight’s woman, and Marcus’s.”

I stared.

“Woman, here,” he ordered.

His tone brooked no argument, so for once, I
didn’t argue.