Caged

by Lorelei James

  “You’ll survive without my cock for another twelve hours,” he rasped against her ear. “Think of how fast and hard we’ll go at it the first time. Your skin will have friction burns.”

  “Deacon.”

  “Game starts now, babe.” He kissed her quickly and clasped her hand. He’d noticed a door tucked between the empty banquet rooms. If they were lucky, it’d be unlocked.

  Molly’s heels made little sound as he hustled them down the hallway.

  No one stopped them. He doubted anyone noticed them. Still, he forced himself to slow down. Once they reached the door, he shot a quick look up and down the hallway before he tried the knob.

  Unlocked. Halleluiah.

  His cock was already half hard and he willed it to stand down. But his body always reacted to the nearness of hers. Everything jumped into overdrive; his blood pumped faster, his breathing turned ragged, sweat dotted his head, neck, chest, spine, and groin.

  Light from the street shone into the small space. No chair or table in here, so he’d have to improvise.

  Deacon pushed her up against the door.

  “What is it with you and doors?” she murmured.

  “You’re right. I’ve got something much better in mind.”

  “Me and my big mouth.”

  “Gimme that big mouth.” Deacon curled his hand beneath her jaw, holding her in place as he kissed her with the passion he’d had locked inside all damn day.

  Molly opened for him fully, making the sweetest groan in the back of her throat when his tongue slid against hers.

  He tasted, teased, explored. Her passion was such an innate part of her. He basked in her immediate and unwavering response to him. Anytime. Anyplace.

  She pressed her hands against his chest and emitted a whimper when he tugged her hair, changing the angle of her head to take the kiss deeper yet, straight into the heart and soul of her.

  When she began bumping her hips into his, he broke free from the consuming kiss. “Feel like I haven’t done that in days,” he panted.

  “You haven’t.”

  “Been neglectful of my woman’s needs.” Deacon brushed his lips over the shell of her ear. “Turn around.”

  “You can’t fuck me,” she warned.

  “Not even with my mouth?”

  “Oh.” She turned around so fast she smacked her forehead into the door. “Ouch.”

  Deacon slowly inched her dress up her thighs, rucking the silky fabric around her hips. “Nice ass. I wanna see it. Take off your panties.”

  Resting her cheek against the door, she hooked her fingers into the scrap of satin and rolled them over the curves of her thighs.

  When they were at her knees, Deacon twisted the material around his palm and ripped them off.

  “Deacon!”

  “What? You hate wearing wet panties.” He rubbed his mouth over the back of her head and his groin into her ass. “By the time I’m done feasting on your cunt, babe, your sweet juices will be running down the insides of your thighs.”

  “I think I just came.”

  He chuckled. “Spread ’em wide. Hands on the door. Nope. Lower. Lower.” Then he took her hands and put them where he wanted, so they were just below the level of her hips. “Perfect.” He adjusted his dick before he lowered to his knees. “Fuck yeah. That’s what I’m talkin’ about.” Her sweet pink pussy was at mouth level.

  “Omigod, Deacon. No. I can’t. This is too—”

  “Exposed?” He licked her slit, then wiggled his tongue inside her opening and pulled back out. “You worried I’ll be up close and personal with this sweet little asshole?” He swirled his tongue around that tight rosette and Molly made a noise he’d never heard from her. “I’m gonna lick, bite, and suck on this tiny pucker, and then one day soon I’m gonna fuck it. Hard.”

  “I love your dirty talk.”

  “You love my dirty actions even more.”

  He abandoned his plan to build her up slowly. He opened her up and set his mouth on her, eating at the hot flesh until he felt her blood pumping faster. Until his face was glazed with her essence. He loved this. He could do this all fucking day.

  “You’re too good at this. I’m already close.”

  Deacon changed the angle of his head, sliding his tongue down to her clit. Teasing it with soft lashes, pausing only to suck directly on the nub.

  Her moans escalated. Her legs began to tremble.

  “Fuck, babe. You needed this. Bad. Give it to me.” He lapped at her, still holding her wide-open so he could engulf all of her pussy with his hungry mouth.

  Molly released a muffled scream against her biceps as her orgasm blasted her with long, hard pulses. He drew the pulsating flesh into his mouth, his lips sucking in cadence with the throbbing of her clit.

  In the aftermath, Deacon placed soft kisses around the swollen tissues and backed away, his own breaths sharp and shallow.

  As he rolled to his feet, he trailed his fingertips over the backs of her legs, from just inside her ankle bones, up the muscles in her calves, the creases behind her knees, the inner skin of her thighs. He unrolled her dress, watching the fabric swish as it fell into place.

  She still hadn’t said anything.

  So he kept touching her. Gliding his hand up her side to palm her tit. Squeezing the soft weight, then pinching the tip of her nipple. Reveling in the fact this woman was his. “Molly.”

  She walked her hands up the door and slumped her spine against his chest. “Have I ever come that fast before?”

  “That I’ve seen? With your vibrator. I like to take my time.” He kissed the side of her throat. “Until I don’t.”

  “You rocked my world, Deacon.”

  Tell me you love me.

  Made him feel needy and pathetic, but he was; he needed to hear those words from her.

  Deacon’s stomach growled.

  “The real world intrudes. Should we grab some food before we head up to the room? I imagine you have to be at training early tomorrow.”

  “Way too early. But Maddox will be focused on Fee.”

  She turned around. “Did Fee meet with any fight organizations tonight?”

  “No. The only one doin’ anything with female fighters is UFC, and they’re sending a rep tomorrow night.”

  “I won’t get to sit with you at the event, will I?”

  “’Fraid not. The whole thing will last maybe four hours. Then I’m free to lock us in our hotel suite and do raunchy things to you.”

  “What kind of raunchy things?”

  Deacon nuzzled her neck. “The four-poster bed will be great for bondage.” His mouth meandered to the spot below her ear. “The bench looks good for spanking.” He blew in her ear. “I’m still thinking on whether the couch or the rug on the floor will be softer on your back as I’m fucking your tits.”

  Molly tipped her head back and looked at him. “Too bad about that pesky twelve-hour rule I offered to let you break. Because, babe, I would’ve let you do every single one of those things to me tonight.” She smiled and leaned forward to bite his lower lip. “Twice.”

  “Evil woman. Let’s go.”

  He snatched up her underwear and balled them in his pocket.

  “So are we going to eat?” she asked.

  “Nah. Not hungry.”

  “Deacon. I heard your stomach growling. What have you had to eat today?”

  “Two protein shakes. A chicken and rice bowl. Two protein bars. And pussy.” He smirked. “The last one was very satisfying, so I’m good.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  MOLLY survived the whirlwind weekend in LA.

  Deacon had been gone Saturday morning when she’d woken up. She knew Maddox wasn’t working with him because Maddox was right there, every damn time she turned around. Groping Presley, who didn’t seem to mind because she was groping him back with equal enthusiasm. According to Katie, the hand-holding, ass-grabbing couple had run into Maddox’s ex-wife half a dozen times and the woman was beside herself with rage and je
alousy, so Operation Jealous Hag had been a resounding success. But Molly had been so busy she hadn’t gotten the particulars from her friend—which was odd, given Presley was notorious for oversharing.

  Maddox had cornered her after lunch. “I need you to do me a favor tonight.”

  “What kind of favor?”

  “I need you to steer clear of Deacon for at least an hour after the fight. He’s not officially meeting with Smackdown or Bellator, but he has to appear interested. And we both know he’ll blow off these guys . . .” If there’s a chance you’ll be blowing him went unsaid.

  “I don’t know where you’ve received the mistaken impression that I have any control over Deacon, Maddox,” she retorted.

  “Christ. Don’t kid yourself. Would you please just help me out here? You want what’s best for Deacon and his career, right?”

  “No. I want him to fail spectacularly because he’s so much fun after he loses.” Tone it down, Mol. She counted to ten. “Of course I want what’s best for him.”

  “One hour. That’s all I’m asking.”

  “Fine. He’ll assume I’m working anyway.”

  “Good.” Maddox’s eyes turned hard. “Where the fuck is Presley?”

  “Amery has her doing something. Why?” Wasn’t Maddox supposed to be with Fee all day before the big fight?

  “I’m buying a chain for that girl to keep her by my side.” He leaned closer. “You cannot leave. My ex is across the room and I’ve managed to avoid being alone with her.”

  Molly saw the chance and took it. “I’ll stay with you. In return, I want to know everything about these fight organizations that are looking at signing Deacon.”

  Thirty minutes later Molly knew Maddox had spilled more than he’d intended. But she also realized Maddox had assumed Deacon had told her way more than he had.

  So Deacon’s claim that he’ll tell you everything lasted what . . . ? Two weeks?

  She couldn’t ask Deacon specifics since prior to the fight she’d seen Deacon for ten minutes—five of which he’d spent fucking her brains out up against the glass shower door. Then he’d bailed after blowing her circuits with a soul kiss.

  She’d sat with the Black Arts crew during the exhibition. The fighters were seated in a different area of the arena, so Molly wondered if Deacon was making the “connections” Maddox had been harping on.

  After the exhibition ended—Fee easily won her fight—Molly returned to the hotel with Beck, some guy named Gunnar who used to be an instructor at Black Arts, and Riggins. She skipped the after-party, and Riggins insisted on escorting her to her hotel room.

  She poured herself a rum and Diet Coke and stared out the window at the glittering lights of Los Angeles. Molly didn’t know how much time had passed before she heard the door open. Her heart immediately beat faster. She saw Deacon in the reflection of the glass before he wrapped himself around her.

  “Hey.”

  “Hey.”

  “You left right after the last fight,” he murmured against her neck.

  “Since Beck was leaving, I caught a ride. I knew you’d be along when you finished.”

  “Babe, what’s goin’ on? You seem sad.”

  “I’m not. I was just thinking about how cool it would’ve been to see the ocean.” And Molly felt stupid for her hope that Deacon might’ve planned to surprise her with a romantic, late-night trip to the beach. But he didn’t do romance. Not for some macho reason, but simply because romance didn’t cross his mind. Sex did. So he wooed her and wowed her with sex.

  And that night Deacon had introduced Molly to the joy of bondage. He’d tied her spread-eagle to the four-poster bed and fucked her for an hour. Then he’d bent her over the couch and spanked her—more tease than pain—and fucked her for another hour. Then he’d ordered fruit and ice cream from room service, spread her out on the bar, and used her body to create a sundae.

  Just thinking about the contrasting sensations of his hot mouth and the cold ice cream on her body made her tremble. She could admit that Deacon licking and sucking on her everywhere—from her earlobes to her pinkie toe—had been romantic. In a Deacon-like way.

  A shout startled her out of the memory, and she looked around the arena, wide-eyed, remembering where she was.

  Right. Fight night had finally arrived.

  The week following their LA trip, Deacon had been scarce. When they were together, he was sleeping or obsessively watching fight tapes.

  Molly let him be.

  Then he’d shown up at her apartment at two a.m. last night, looking exhausted and worried. “I couldn’t sleep,” he said. “I don’t like to sleep without you. I hadn’t realized until tonight how much I fucking hated that this week.”

  She’d stripped off her pajamas and crawled into bed with him naked. Almost as soon as he’d wrapped her in his arms and whispered, “Love you, babe,” he’d fallen into a deep sleep.

  Her sweet, snuggly man had been gone this morning when she’d awoken. But he had texted her:

  THNX 4 last night. I U

  Might’ve been silly, but she’d looked at it several times during the day.

  Now here she was, waiting to watch her sweet, fierce lover prove his prowess or get pummeled.

  Black Arts had a reserved-seating section in the front three rows behind the judges’ table. Molly would’ve preferred to sit someplace else, but Deacon insisted she sit close enough that he could see her when he entered the ring.

  So while the Black Arts section was full, none of her cohorts was in the area—most were at the back of the house with the fight crew. She wondered how different the night would’ve been if Deacon’s dad were sitting beside her.

  The blond ring girl—who resembled Katie—sashayed around the outside of the ring. Katie had hung up her teeny black boy shorts and cleavage-baring sports bra after the success of the event in LA. Katie was a smart woman; most people underestimated the size of her brain when faced with the size of her chest.

  Presley slid into the empty chair next to Molly. “Hey, ho – bag.”

  “Hey, Pres. I wasn’t sure if you’d make it.”

  “Wouldn’t miss it!” She leaned in to whisper, “But who are the smarmy suits in the front row? They eyed me like a tasty burrito. It was creepy.”

  Presley had cultivated a retro edgy look that fit in with the fight crowd. She’d tied a thin animal-print scarf around her neck. Her square-necked blouse was the same fiery red as her lipstick. To complete the outfit, she wore dark denim vintage pedal pushers and a pair of black and red checked patent leather platform pumps. The only aspect that didn’t fit with the pinup-queen image were the tattoos running down her arms and the lip, nose, and eyebrow piercings.

  “You done staring at me?”

  Molly rolled her eyes. “Yes. Now I see why the guys were drooling over you. Sometimes it’s hard to be the friend of such a bombshell.”

  “Ha. Answer the question. Who are those guys?”

  “Scouts for Smackdown. They’re the up-and-coming MMA fight company.”

  “What’re they doing here?”

  “Checking out Maddox’s roster. Rumor is they’re looking to sign new fighters.”

  “What does that mean for the guys who get signed by them?”

  “Their fight career is dependent on the company who owns their contract. The organization sets up the fights and closely monitors the fighter’s life—inside and outside the ring. Everything from training, to public appearances, to televised fights, to