by Katie Ashley
I shrugged. “It’s just rumor. None of them has done time for anything.” I knew that was a partial lie, considering Deacon’s father had been in prison before he started the Raiders.
Charlie’s teasing expression turned serious. “Promise me you’ll be careful.”
“Is that actual concern for me, little brother?” I teased, trying to lighten the mood.
“Yeah, it is.”
Patting his leg, I replied, “You don’t need to worry. I’m fine. I promise.”
Although he nodded his head, I could tell he wasn’t convinced. But before he had the chance to press me for more details about the Raiders, Aunt Joy appeared in the doorway and beckoned us to come and eat.
Thankfully, neither Charlie nor Uncle Jimmy brought up the subject of the Raiders, and I was able to have a fun, carefree lunch with those I loved most in the world.
Two weeks had passed since my drunken confessional with Deacon. I continued coming to the compound every day as though nothing momentous had happened that night. I usually stayed for dinner at least two nights a week. I found myself in a peculiar dance with Rev. He continued not to make a formal move on me, but whenever I was around, he gave me all his undivided attention. Whenever I would find myself talking at length to Rev at the dinner table or around the compound, I would always feel Deacon’s hot gaze on me. His behavior was so confusing. Deacon still seemed to want something romantic to happen between Rev and me, but his pointed looks told a different story. Of course, I knew better than to question him. He was the master of being evasive and turning the tables on me. Besides, I wasn’t sure I could handle a relationship with sweet, respectful Rev, never mind volatile and brooding Deacon.
Today, after Willow and I had finished with our lesson, I was surprised to find Deacon waiting on us outside the door. “You got a minute?”
“Sure.”
“I wanted to show you something.”
Willow stomped her foot beside us. “Deacon, that’s not fair!” Then she flounced past us to go to Archer’s side.
My brows creased in confusion. “What’s she upset about?”
Deacon chuckled. “She’s pissed because she knows I’m going to show you the work I’ve done on the ballet studio.”
“But why would she care about that?”
“Because I’m making her wait to see it until it’s finished. You know, to be a surprise.”
I couldn’t help smiling at him for not only building the studio for Willow, but for wanting the finished product to be a surprise. Our shoes crunched down the gravel path. “Any idea when Willow might be able to return to school?”
Deacon shook his head. When he didn’t say anything else, I sighed. “You want to get rid of this job already?” he asked.
“You know that I love working with Willow. I just worry about her.”
With true concern etched on his face, Deacon questioned, “You think I’m hurting her by keeping her here?”
“No. She’s perfectly safe and happy here. I just hate that she doesn’t have involvement with other children.”
He scratched the stubble on his jaw. “Maybe I can get Kim to bring her kids over more. She and Case have some close to Willow’s age. Mac’s got a granddaughter close to her age, too.”
“I think that would be a great idea.”
Deacon motioned for me to go on ahead of him up the porch steps. When we got inside, Willow sat at the kitchen table with her arms crossed and a scowl on her face.
“Hey, thundercloud face, you’re going to make it rain in here,” I said with a smile.
“I wanna see the studio.”
“And you will when it’s totally finished,” Deacon replied as he opened the basement door for me.
“I’ll come down with you two and see the progress,” Beth said.
Knowing that now Mama Beth was also getting to see the studio made Willow fume even harder, so I gave her an understanding smile and said we’d be back up soon. I stepped carefully on the worn boards of the stairs. From my vantage point, I could see why Willow had found it frightening. But when I reached the bottom of the staircase, I gasped in surprise.
While the basement was one large room that ran the length of the house, Deacon had worked to clear out the far end. Mirrors ran the length of the far wall, and a new tile floor had been placed down. I don’t know how he had known to get the kind like I’d had at the dance studio. New lights had been put up so that it didn’t appear so dark and foreboding, and the walls closest to the studio space were painted pink. Willow’s wish had been granted with a barre.
“So what do you think?” Deacon asked.
Gazing around the room, I couldn’t keep the smile off my face. “This is … amazing. You thought of everything.” Turning to him, I asked, “You really did all this yourself?”
With a wink, he replied, “I’ve told you before I’m a man of many talents.”
Beth chuckled. “What he means to say is that we have a few electricians and contractors in the club who helped him.”
“Thanks for giving away my secrets, Mom,” Deacon said good-naturedly.
“Pride goeth before a fall,” she replied.
Deacon merely rolled his eyes at her response. At the far end of the room, I noticed a pile of boxes along with some odds and ends.
“What’s all this?” I asked, motioning to an old stereo system with a turntable and a box of old records.
“That’s my old man’s vinyl collection. I didn’t know if you could use the stereo or not.”
“I don’t think so. Most of the music I’ll use with Willow is on my iPod.” I thumbed through some of the records. “Wow. There’re some great classics in here.”
“I didn’t peg you as an oldies fan,” Deacon mused.
“Oh, I grew up on the oldies. My parents used to clean house every Saturday with Motown blaring—the Temptations, the Four Tops, Martha Reeves and the Vandellas.” I smiled. “These bring back so many memories.”
Deacon took the album out of my hand and put it on the turntable. The familiar crack and pop of a record filled my ears before the unmistakable opening of “My Girl” came out of the speakers.
“You should teach Deacon to dance,” Beth suggested.
My brows rose in surprise. “You don’t know how to dance?”
He scowled at both his mother and me. “I’ve never had a reason to learn.”
Giving Deacon a pat on the back, Beth said, “Give it a try. They have daddy-daughter dinner dances at Willow’s school. Don’t they, Alexandra?”
“Yes, they do.”
“Just another reason not to put her back there,” Deacon replied.
Beth laughed. “I’m going to start dinner. Maybe by the time it’s done, you’ll have learned a few steps?”
While he didn’t say no, the glare on his face certainly wasn’t saying yes. As Beth started upstairs, I took a tentative step forward, holding out my arms. “Wanna try?”
“If I don’t, you’ll think I’m a fucking pussy, right?”
I laughed. “Maybe.”
With a grunt, he closed the distance between us. His arms started to slip around my waist. “We’re not slow dancing like a school dance. This is different.”
“How the fuck is it different?”
“Put one of your hands on my waist. Then put the other in my hand.” Once he did that, I smiled up at him. “Good job. Now you can either sway like this or do a box step.”
“I think I’d rather sway,” he replied, his hand tightening on my waist. Even beneath the fabric of my skirt, my skin felt inflamed by his simple touch. It was the first time we had been this close, touched this intimately, since the night we’d let our personal skeletons dance precariously around the room.
It wasn’t the first time a man had had his hands on me, but something about Deacon’s touch felt different. Nervousness, coupled with anticipation, tingled through my body. Although I had tried to ignore his magnetism before, there was no denying it now. While he was so incre
dibly good-looking, it was his strong, all-male presence that overwhelmed me. Good sense told me that a woman like me should never want to be in a room alone with a man like him, but I chose to ignore the voices of doubt in my head. Instead, I decided to just let myself feel.
As he stared down at me, the expression on his face changed. I swallowed hard at the intensity of the look burning in his eyes. I didn’t know how something so innocent had changed over to something so illicit. Since the night we’d shared a bed, everything had changed between us.
The crackling pop of the vinyl changed over to another song. As the sultry beat came out of the speakers, I immediately recognized it. Dusty Springfield’s “Son of a Preacher Man.” At that moment, there couldn’t have been a song better suited to us. I stood before a Preacher Man’s son, desperately wanting him to do some of the things in the song. Just the thought sent an ache spreading between my legs.
The only one who could ever reach me was the son of a preacher man.
Deacon’s eyes met mine, and I couldn’t help noticing the lustful gleam flickering bright in them. “Don’t look at me like that,” he growled.
“How am I looking at you?” I panted.
“Like you want to fuck me.”
The electricity in the air around us crackled and popped the same as the vinyl coming out of the stereo speakers. I knew I should turn and run away. I had a job to do with Willow, which didn’t include fucking her father. While I knew that being with Deacon would be an unforgettable experience, it was an emotional land mine that I didn’t think I could escape from unscathed. Everything within me screamed to pry myself from his tight embrace and run upstairs to the safe sanctuary of Beth’s kitchen.
Being good isn’t always easy. No matter how hard I try.
But as Deacon continued to stare at me like a predator would with its prey, I wanted nothing more than to be consumed. Without a word, Deacon’s thumb inched slowly over my bottom lip. Acting on its own volition, my tongue snaked out to flick against his skin. Deacon’s dark eyes flared before he ducked his head and crushed his lips to mine. The force took me off guard, and I staggered back. His strong arms caught me and dragged me closer to him. Just as I had imagined, he knew what he was doing when it came to kissing.
Deacon’s tongue plunged into my mouth as his fingers came to tangle through the strands of my hair. When he tugged them, I moaned into his mouth, enjoying the sting of pain. My hands slid up his back to grip the tops of his shoulders for dear life. His lips, along with the strength of his body and feel of his fingers, had the ability to liquefy my bones and muscles. At any moment, I expected to melt down his body and collapse into a puddle on the floor.
When he finally tore his mouth from mine, both of our chests heaved. He gazed down at me with hooded eyes. “What do you want from me, Alexandra?”
“I want you to fuck me.” Instantly, warmth flooded my cheeks. I’d never been this brazen or direct with a man before. Deacon’s domineering presence had the ability to bring out a part of me I didn’t know existed. Even if it ruined everything between us, everything for Willow, I still wanted him to consume me.
With a groan, he slid his hands down my back to cup my buttocks. Pressing me forward, he ground the hardened bulge in his jeans against me. I gasped at the friction the contact caused. “Please, Deacon.”
Bending me back, he kissed down my neck, his tongue swirling on my skin. I shivered.
Crashing back against the mirrored wall, I gasped in both pleasure and pain. Deacon didn’t apologize. Instead, his hands came to roughly palm my breasts beneath my shirt. Within seconds, he had the buttons undone and was jerking down the cups of my bra. At the feel of his scorching-hot mouth on my nipple, I moaned and closed my eyes. As he pinched the other between his fingers, I began to rub my pelvis against him, desperate for friction to ease the ache. “What do you need, babe?” Deacon questioned in a gravelly voice.
“You. I need you,” I whimpered.
“Tell me what you want, and I’ll give it to you.”
I gave a shake of my head, warmth filling my cheeks. Dirty talk usually embarrassed me, so I couldn’t imagine saying what Deacon wanted me to.
With his eyes on mine, Deacon snaked a hand underneath my skirt. When one of his fingers skimmed the outside of my panties, I bucked my hips against him only to have him pull away. Frustration filled me. His breath scorched against my earlobe as he repeated, “Tell me what you want, and I’ll give it to you.”
“Please, Deacon.”
“Please, Deacon, what?” He pulled his head up to pin me with his gaze. “Please kiss me? Please suck my nipples? Please finger fuck my pussy so I can come?”
Wanting to resist saying such horrible things, I clamped my teeth down on my lip. But then, as the seconds ticked agonizingly by, the desire grew too great. “Please finger me,” I whispered.
A triumphant grin stretched across his face. “What did you say?”
“I said to finger me,” I repeated a little louder.
“Finger you where?”
“You know where!” I snapped.
“Say it, Alex.”
Grabbing both sides of his face, I shouted, “Finger my pussy, Deacon! Finger me until I’m so wet, it’s dripping down my thighs! Finger me until I come, my walls clamping around you!”
His eyes widened as the amusement from teasing me faded from them. “Fucking hell,” he muttered, shaking his head at me. “You’re going to be the death of me, woman.” And then he pushed inside my panties and, thankfully, thrust two fingers inside me. We both groaned at the contact. I rocked my hips against his fingers. Just as I started building toward the edge, he pulled his hand away.
“Please don’t stop,” I begged.
“Don’t worry, babe. I want you to finish around my tongue.”
Deacon knelt in front of me, his hands disappearing underneath my skirt. His rough fingers came to grip the elastic band of my thong before he jerked and tugged it down my thighs. After lifting my left foot, he widened my legs and placed my calf on his shoulder. With a wicked gleam in his eye, he ducked his head, burying his face in my pussy. “Deacon!” I hissed.
At the first drag of his tongue across my clit, I cried out, clawing at the strands of his dark hair. My hips rocked forward as his assault with his tongue continued down the lips of my labia. One hand came to grip my skirt, pushing it up to my hips. Glancing down, I now had a fabulous view of him as he licked and sucked. When my gaze met his, I couldn’t bring myself to look away.
But as I grew closer and closer to coming, my eyelids fluttered shut, and I threw my head back against the mirrored wall. I gripped Deacon’s hair tighter, working my hips faster against his tongue.
“Deacon? Miss Alex?” Willow’s voice called from the top of the stairs.
At the sound of his daughter’s voice, Deacon froze, his face still buried between my legs. My chest heaved as I tried to catch my breath. I desperately needed for him to keep going—I needed to explode around his tongue.
“Y-yes?” I finally stammered.
“It’s time for dinner.”
“Okay. We’ll be right up.”
With the lust-filled moment of frenzy broken, Deacon rocked back on his knees. He eased my shaky leg down. Glancing up at me, Deacon slid my panties slowly up my legs and thighs. “I better go,” I whispered.
“You don’t want to stay for dinner?”
I shook my head. “I can’t sit across from you right now and make simple conversation.”
He cocked his brows at me, a grin stretching across his lips. “I got you that worked up, babe?”
Jerking my chin at the bulge in his pants, I replied, “I could argue the same for you.”
He chuckled. “You got me with that one.”
Turning around, I glanced in the mirror to quickly smooth down my skirt and button up my top. Once I was finished, I tried to calm my out-of-control hair from where Deacon’s fingers had mussed it up. When I thought I looked presentable enough, I st
arted for the stairs. Deacon reached out and grabbed me, jerking me to him.
“Deacon, we have to—”
He crushed his lips to mine. When he pulled away, I was once again a dizzy mess. “I didn’t want you leaving here feeling used. I meant to say good night.”
“Thank you and good night,” I murmured.
When he let me go, I raced up the stairs. At the sight of Rev and Bishop’s expectant look, warmth flooded my face. “I have to go.”
“But why?” Beth asked.
“I—I have to be at my aunt and uncle’s tonight,” I lied.
“What a pity,” she replied.
“I know. I appreciate the offer, though.” I grabbed my bag and purse and started for the door. Once I got out on the porch, I exhaled the breath I’d been holding. As my shoes crunched along the loose gravel to my car, my legs still shook from my heated moment with Deacon. The breeze that swirled around me helped to cool off my inflamed skin. It seemed to take forever to get my trembling hands to work the key fob to unlock my car.
After I slid across the seat and started the car, I glanced up. A shudder went through me at the sight of Deacon leaning against the porch railing. He was lighting a cigarette, and his still-lust-filled gaze pierced through the windshield to send desire pulsing through me again. It took everything within me not to turn the car off, race back to him on the porch, and demand he take me somewhere we wouldn’t be interrupted so we could finish what we had started. I could still taste myself from his kiss. Instead, I forced myself to throw the car into reverse and tear my gaze away from Deacon.
As I made my way through the familiar streets back home, my mind and body stayed connected to Deacon. Images of our passionate moments flashed through my mind, and the ache between my legs continued to burn. Before I could stop myself, I slipped a hand between my legs and started to stroke myself over my panties, just as Deacon had before. When I reached a red light, I threw my head back against the headrest. My fingers flew harder and faster as I desperately sought the orgasm I’d been denied earlier. It was only the loud honk of the car behind me that brought me back to reality. Mortified, I jerked my hand away, a warm flush filling my cheeks. What in the hell had I been thinking, masturbating while in traffic? Deacon continued to bring out parts of me I never knew existed. And God help me, I liked it.
