Caged

by Lorelei James

  Reaching into his pocket, Deacon pulled out his VIP pass. “Happy fuckin’ birthday, motherfucker.”

  “Hey. You were gonna give that to me,” Fisher complained.

  Deacon flashed his teeth. “And now I’m not.”

  “Asswipe.”

  The food didn’t last long. Sergei, Ivan, Blaze, and Fisher took off to play games. Deacon opted for a second beer—which he wouldn’t have had if Maddox sat across from him.

  Maddox. The man was up to something.

  “D? You doing okay?” Beck asked.

  “I guess. Weird situation with Maddox bringing Courey in. Don’t know what to make of it. Maddox ain’t saying shit, which puts me back to square one. Speculating just makes my damn head hurt.”

  “I’m sure you heard me’n Maddox had words last week.”

  “Yeah, I heard. Words about what?”

  “You.”

  Deacon glanced at Blue. “You disappeared awful damn fast today. You get into it with Maddox too?”

  Blue shook his head. “With Ronin.”

  “No shit?”

  “I’m aware Sensei pays Maddox’s salary. But when he brings in outsiders when he has a perfectly viable solution to the sparring and training partner problems, it pisses me off.”

  “I’m lost.”

  Beck and Blue exchanged a look. Then Beck folded his arms on the table. “As Shihan, I deal with problems before I bring them to Sensei. That’s my job. We’ve rebuilt the staff since Knox and Shiori are both part-time. You were always part-time. Ito was always part-time. I took over all but three of the black belt classes. That’s a lot. So we hired Jaz, moved some of the black belts into teaching the lower-belt classes. More-advanced students teaching less-advanced students. But I didn’t have a fuckin’ clue that Maddox would pull both you and Ito from the teaching rotation entirely. I had to scramble to fill those instructors spots.”

  “You ended up taking over kickboxing.”

  “Which I don’t mind. I’m just not as good at it as you are. We’ve lost some students because of it. And when I bring it up with Ronin, he reminds me that your hard-assed stance chased off more students than my unimaginative teaching efforts.”

  Deacon allowed a small grin.

  “Black Arts still needs more teachers. At least one full-time higher-level black belt that I don’t have to worry is gonna get pulled from the jujitsu roster and moved to the MMA roster. A paid employee.” Beck exhaled slowly. “I compiled a list of instructors who’d love to relocate for the chance to work with Sensei Black. I gave it to Ronin with the understanding he’d have to run all the potential instructors through House of Kenji first. It’s been three weeks. I worked for Kenji for four years, so I know they put a priority on these types of requests. I called my contact there, and she said they hadn’t received any paperwork from Black Arts.”

  “Fuck. Seriously?”

  He nodded. “I asked Sensei about it. He said he’d gotten behind since he’d been helping Maddox scout training partners for the MMA club.”

  “Which is where I got into it with Ronin,” Blue interjected. “I have three guys who are ideal training partners. It’d solve a couple of problems. One, the pay would help them out. Two, they’re already trained. Three, they’re fighters or teachers and it’d up their skill sets.”

  It made sense to Deacon, so he didn’t understand why Ronin was dragging ass. “Who’re the guys?”

  “Terrel. He’s in your weight class and he no longer has aspirations for an MMA career. But Ito told Maddox if Terrel became your training partner, he’d quit. And evidently Ito is untouchable—since he’s allowed to beat the fuck out of my instructor and he isn’t disciplined at all.”

  “Ronin condemned Ito’s actions,” Beck said, “but he sided with Maddox that Terrel wasn’t a good fit for you.”

  “Bullshit.”

  “That’s what I said. Then I offered to be your partner—”

  “Jesus, Blue. You’re far too fucking good for me.”

  “Doesn’t matter. Maddox dismissed me out of hand. Which proved my point.”

  Deacon looked at Beck. “What am I missing?”

  “We’re not sure. This all came to a head Monday.”

  “The day I left.”

  “Yeah. I’ll throw out there that I was half joking with Ronin about you returning to teach the Tuesday-night kickboxing class, since you’ll be at the dojo glaring at any man who looks at Molly anyway. Maddox blew a fucking fuse and said you were done teaching. And I blew one right back. I said, according to the House of Kenji rules, you were listed as a jujitsu instructor and you were required to teach at least one class a week. Then I got really pissed the next day when I found out that Maddox had nixed both Blue and Gil as your training partners, but he just let that thug Micah Courey wander in off the goddamn street?”

  “Dammit. I never wanted any of this to happen.”

  “Not laying blame,” Beck cautioned. “Just filling you in on why Maddox wasn’t invited to my birthday party.”

  Deacon laughed. “Since I choose how to spend my off hours, I’ll take over the kickboxing class. Maddox can suck it. We’ll have it be a surprise when I show up. As far as sparring partners, I’d love to rotate Blue, Gil, and Terrel in. I’ll bring it up with Ronin. He didn’t seem too happy that Courey was there today.”

  “You’re right. But Ronin is the type to weigh everything from all angles. I’d guess he’ll keep Courey around another week or so to see how you react.” Blue drained his beer. “Enough. Let’s whip the birthday boy’s ass at a racing game. I know he sucks at Grand Theft Auto.”

  For the next two hours, Deacon challenged each one of his friends to a game. Sergei kicked his butt in pool. That little fucker Blaze whipped up on him at the hoop shoot. Blue destroyed him twice in the virtual NASCAR race. Beck bested him at Guitar Hero. Ivan won the strongman contest. Even Fisher beat him at the shooting game.

  He had fun, but the place was too loud, too many people running around, and what the hell was he supposed to do with all the damn tickets the machines spit out? He’d tried to leave them, but a sweet little girl pointed out he’d forgotten them. And he felt like she’d started following him to make sure he didn’t forget.

  Stalked by a ten-year-old.

  Deacon had briefly spoken to Molly as he’d been en route to the arcade. She’d worked a full day to try to catch up. And he hadn’t pressed her on her plans for the night.

  After being together nearly twenty-four/seven for the last five days, he missed her.

  When he returned to the party area to retrieve his jacket, he just happened to look at the monitor. He froze when he saw a woman who looked a helluva lot like Molly from the back.

  Wishful thinking, man.

  He watched, willing the woman to turn around. When she did and he saw it was Molly, he nearly whooped with joy.

  What did it mean that she’d shown up at the exact moment he been thinking about her?

  That you are one lucky bastard. And she can’t stay away from you any more than you can stay away from her.

  Fuck yeah, it was on.

  Even on the crappy monitor she looked like a million bucks in a summery floral number. She’d worn fuck-me heels the same deep orange as the flowers on her dress. She’d swept her glossy brown hair into a ponytail showcasing the curve of her neck. The cut of the dress did amazing things for her body, specifically her tits.

  He curled his fingers into a fist. He needed to get his hands on her. Right now. Before some other guy touched her—guaranteed his hot woman would get hit on in here—and he ended up in jail for protecting what was his.

  Deacon tracked her to the gigantic four-player Ms. Pac-Man game. He leaned against the wall and watched her as she watched others. She smiled softly at a pigtailed, redheaded girl. Something about that smile tightened his groin.

  When she turned and meandered toward the six-player trivia game in the corner, his cock went harder yet, seeing her ass sway in those do-me stilettos.<
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  He expected she’d continue to wander. But she hung back, observing the trivia game. When a spot opened up, she slid into the seat against the wall—a grandmotherly type sat on her right—and took out a plastic power card.

  Well, well. The girl knew how to play.

  Deacon didn’t bother reading the trivia question on the screen; he was too busy watching Miss Competitive be the first player to buzz in. Molly answered all six questions right and buzzed in fastest for bonus points. The ticket machine by her feet started spitting out tickets. She swiped her card and waited for the next round.

  Molly won, same as before, and she looked mighty pleased with herself.

  The next round she ended up second, and it appeared she planned to take her tickets and bail.

  So Deacon moved in behind her, setting his hands on the back of her chair. “I’m a lucky man that my woman is whip smart, into games, and sexy as hell.” He rubbed his cheek along hers. “I’m happy to see you, babe.”

  “You’re not mad I showed up?”

  “Never.”

  “What if your dojo buddies see me and accuse you of being pussy-whipped?”

  “Don’t care.” He scraped his cheek over hers, and that sweet floral scent tickled his nose. He whispered, “I saw you.”

  “Where?”

  “On the monitors.” He dragged his lips across her jaw. “The second I saw you, I got hard.”

  “Hold that thought. The next game is about to start.”

  “Yes, it is, because you’n me are playing a game too. First question.” He let his breath drift across her ear, holding on to her biceps to absorb her shiver. “How many more times can I make you come today?”

  Molly sucked in a soft breath and missed being the first player to buzz in—probably because she was thinking about the last orgasm he’d given her this morning.

  “No fair.”

  The timer went off on the screen, and Molly hadn’t even made a guess.

  Deacon kissed her temple. “Finish up the trivia game. Then we’re outta here.”

  “Maybe you don’t get to decide that. Maybe I had plans for you.”

  “What kind of plans?”

  Her sultry laugh burrowed into his ear, traveling down the center of his body to tighten his balls.

  Fuck.

  She didn’t say another word until the game ended. Then she leaned down and grabbed her tickets from the machine. She noticed the cup of tickets clutched in his hand. “Quite a lot of winnings.” She accordioned her tickets and tucked them in his cup. “Now you can think of me when you’re spending your load.”

  He groaned. “Killing me, babe.”

  “I saw another game I wanted to play.” She took his hand, and they wended through the crowd.

  He had to give the eyes off her or I will fuck you up look to several douche bags with a fucking death wish.

  She half turned and said, “Stop growling.”

  “Better than throwing punches,” he muttered.

  They ended up in the farthest corner, where the lame games were collecting dust. An old Kiss pinball machine had been shoved against the wall.

  Molly swiped her card and “Rock and Roll All Nite” blasted out as the balls loaded.

  “You like pinball?” he asked as he moved in behind her.

  “Not really. I like that there’s no one back here.”

  Deacon rested his hands on her hips, pulling her ass against his dick. As he pressed his lips to the back of her head, her soft hair caught on the rough stubble on his cheeks. The scent of her was another punch of lust.

  “Deacon.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Were you serious?”

  Ping, ping, ping sounded. “About what?”

  Molly turned around and gripped his shirt to keep him from taking a step back. “About fulfilling my fantasies.”

  He brushed his lips over hers. “Damn straight.”

  “I have one.” She released his shirt and smoothed out the wrinkles. “It’s a game called ‘get off, get gone.’”

  “Sounds dirty. I’m in.”

  She laughed. “See, we take turns surprising each other. So I’ll start tonight.” Locking her gaze to his, she rubbed her lips over the stubble on his chin. “If there weren’t so many people around, I’d shove you in the corner and blow you.”

  “Jesus.” His cock jerked against his zipper, and she felt it.

  “I’ve had to improvise. So instead of getting head, you’re getting a hand job while you’re playing pinball. No one will think anything of the way you move your hips and ass as I’m standing in front of you, jerking you off.”

  “And then what?”

  “I go home. Next round is yours. The only rule is payback can’t be immediate. There is a minimum twelve-hour wait between rounds.”

  “That’s not fucking fair. I want to surprise you tonight.”

  She shook her head. “That’s the second part of the fantasy for me, Deacon. I’ve never done anything like this. You need to let me be the woman who shows up unexpectedly, jacks you off, and leaves.”

  “Leaves me wanting more,” he murmured.

  Those beautiful brown eyes lit up. “Exactly.”

  Deacon kissed her nose. “Hope you brought a paper towel.”

  She stepped aside and walked backward until she was in the shadows beside a Dukes of Hazzard pinball machine. Smirking, she slid her left hand beneath her skirt and . . .

  Holy fuckballs, the woman took her panties off. Right there. In the arcade.

  He just about shot his load right then.

  With her panties bunched in her fist, she sauntered back over and situated herself between him and the pinball machine—her ass against his groin. She looked over her shoulder. “Unzip your jeans and pull your cock out.”

  In that moment, he saw no sign of timid Molly and he knew he’d do everything under the sun to fulfill her every fantasy. Also in that moment, Deacon fell a little bit in love with her. This good girl who wanted to be bad—and wanted to take him along for the ride.

  She set the power card on the glass.

  Deacon whipped his cock out and had a brief flash of paranoia. What if someone saw them? What if security busted them for fucking around? What if the dudes manning the security feed knew what they were doing and whacked off while watching them?

  Made him a pervert, but the idea of someone else watching them got him harder yet.

  Molly stretched her left arm up and dug her nails into the back of his neck. “Come on, pinball wizard. Time to put the balls in play.”

  He loaded three games. Then he rested his palms on the glass above the flipper controls and tightened the cage he’d created around her with his arms.

  Silky material wound around his cock, followed by the firm grip of her hand. She started to stroke him.

  “Jesus, Molly. Feels so damn good I wanna close my eyes.”

  “Watch your balls,” she whispered against his neck.

  Deacon could barely see the damn pinball machine his blood was pulsing so hard in his neck and head, making his vision waver.

  “Thrust your hips into my hand.”

  Just that small movement kicked the sensation from pleasure in his cock to pleasure coursing throughout his entire body.

  “Deacon. You are so sexy. So fierce. Every time I look at you I get butterflies in my stomach. When you kiss me? My heart races. I lose myself in how perfectly your mouth fits to mine. And when you put your hands on me, it feels right and yet it’s never enough.”

  The words, so sweet, hot and earnest, arrowed straight to the heart of him. He couldn’t even speak.

  She stroked him harder. “Come for me. I want you to blow in