Caged

  She’d been so pissed off that he’d shown up to give her a freakin’ makeup lesson, she’d snapped, “What?”

  “Looks like a lace factory blew up in here and someone threw flowers and shit everywhere to cover up the evidence.”

  Molly loved the romantic, cozy cottage look she’d created. “Leave if it offends you.”

  “It’s too cute and girly to ever be offensive.” He’d smirked at her. “Kinda like you.”

  Shaking off the memory, she fled to the kitchen in the guise of being a good hostess and offering him a nightcap.

  But Deacon caught her and kissed her for a good long while—long enough she wondered if the light-headedness was from him or from the last drink she’d had.

  Definitely him. Booze had never made her feel this way.

  “You hum,” he said after releasing her mouth.

  “What?”

  “Sometimes you make a humming noise when I kiss you.”

  “Sorry.”

  “Don’t apologize. I like it.”

  “Oh.” Something about the darkness urged her to say what was on her mind. “I like being with you. Am I breaking second-date relationship rules by admitting that?”

  “Babe. Do I seem like a guy who’d know that shit?”

  “No, you seem like a guy who’d glory in breaking the rules.”

  “I’d rather glory in you,” he murmured against her throat. “Take me to your bedroom.”

  Molly’s belly flipped. Gooseflesh broke out. Her heart beat madly when she took his hand and led him down the short hallway.

  Moonlight shone across the carpet in her dark bedroom. Before she could turn on the lamp on the nightstand, Deacon spun her around.

  The man was gorgeous in any light, but he was a deity with silvery moonbeams highlighting his face. She knew the muscled body beneath the clothing was unparalleled.

  “Relax.” He tipped her head back to gaze into her eyes. “I’m not gonna throw you on your bed and fuck you. But I do want to play with you.”

  “Play with me,” she repeated.

  Deacon stroked her bottom lip with his thumb. “We start this, I’ll ask you to do things for me. Things I need. If you can’t give me those things, let me know now.”

  “Can you be specific about these ‘needs’ of yours?” Her gaze searched his. “Or will you surprise me with ropes like Ronin did to Amery?”

  His lips curled up in a half smile. “Did Amery tell you about Ronin’s rope mastery?”

  No, but you just did. “Or maybe you’ll take me to Twisted?”

  “Where’d you hear about Twisted?”

  “From you and Knox.” She paused, waiting for a reaction from him. Getting none, she continued. “What is it?”

  “A private club that caters to like-minded individuals.”

  “Are you a member?”

  “Not my scene.” He smirked. “Literally.”

  “What is your scene?”

  Warm lips brushed her ear. “My scene is you, babe.” The hand on her lower back glided down to her ass. “Ask me what I want tonight.”

  His deep, rough voice sent an electric zap straight to her core. “What do you want from me tonight, Deacon?”

  “To watch you.”

  “Watch me what?” she managed.

  “Watch you get yourself off.”

  Molly’s entire body flushed with heat.

  “If you don’t wanna do this, tell me no.”

  But she knew if she told him no . . . he’d leave and never come back. This would be over with him before it even started.

  That thought caused her more distress than the idea of masturbating for him. She blurted out, “I’ve never done that particular act of self-love in mixed company.”

  A rumble of approval vibrated against her neck. “Good. Then it’ll belong only to me.”

  “Tell me what you want—exactly how you want it.”

  “What I want,” he whispered, “is to watch you come.”

  “Where will you be?”

  “In the chair, waiting for the show to start.” Deacon disappeared into the shadows.

  Ask if he plans on joining you in your bed after you get off. Ask if he’ll be jerking off while he watches you. Ask why this turns him on.

  Duh. It turns him on because he’s a voyeur. The guy has a VIP pass to the hottest strip club in town.

  When she didn’t move, he said, “Go out and come back in.”

  In the kitchen, Molly poured three fingers of Rumple Minze into a juice glass and downed it.

  Immediately the liquor warmed her. Not that she needed it; her body was already hot. But she welcomed the buzz.

  You can do this and make it the sexiest thing he’s ever seen.

  After grabbing her e-reader and her phone, she wandered to her bedroom, putting an extra sway in her hips.

  She clicked on the fringed lamp on the nightstand. Torn between rummaging through her drawer for a nightgown, or bucking up and baring all . . . she chose the latter. It’d be easier if Deacon saw how she looked naked when she couldn’t read his expression. Even though she’d transformed her body, she still had a hard time not hiding it.

  Molly unbuttoned her blouse, facing the chair in the corner, although she didn’t look that direction. No reason for a peekaboo tease when she removed her bra. When she cupped her breasts, her fingers caressing the swells and then the hardened tips of her nipples, she swore she heard a sharp intake of breath.

  She ditched her capris and her underwear. Now what?

  Deacon wants you. He said he’s wanted you for a long time. Make him want you more. Be the siren, vixen, temptress you’ve always dreamed of being.

  Naked, she lifted her arms above her head, swaying from side to side in a delicious stretch. She tilted her neck so her hair spilled down her back and brushed her skin, letting herself enjoy the sensation.

  Then, buoyed by the laser-hot stare she felt coming from the corner, she perched on the edge of the mattress, resting her heels on the bed frame. That allowed her to spread her knees wide, giving Deacon a peek at her pussy.

  A low rumble drifted to her from the corner.

  Molly grabbed the bottle of lotion from the nightstand and squirted a thick dollop into her hand. She thoroughly coated her arms in long, sensuous sweeps. Finished with that, she rubbed lotion on her breasts, making sure she got some on the sides and the under swell, by squeezing the mounds together, and releasing, squeezing and releasing. Again she let her head fall back. She loved breast play. She couldn’t wait until Deacon put those big mitts of his on these. With the way he constantly stared at her tits, she knew he liked what he saw.

  Pretending it was just another Saturday night alone with BOB—her battery-operated boyfriend—Molly stretched out on the side of the bed that gave Deacon the best view. She powered on her e-reader and scrolled to her favorite erotic book, which always got her hot and wet enough to get off.

  Once she’d become engrossed in the words, she forced herself to go slow and tease him. Touching herself like she wanted Deacon to touch her. Trailing her fingers between her hip bones. Pinching her nipples. Biting her lip as she arched into her own caresses.

  Almost too soon her sex became hot and slick. The need for friction had her rubbing her thighs together. But that wasn’t enough. She spread her legs and glided her middle finger up and down her slit, separating her flesh, priming herself.

  When she reached the part in the book where the hero went down on the heroine for the first time, Molly quickly moved her finger over her clit. It made her so hot that after the heroine’s first explosive orgasm, the hero kept sucking on her pussy, driving her to orgasm again and again, showing her how an alpha male took care of his woman. Somehow she knew Deacon would be just like that. And that made her hotter yet.

  That tightening sensation began behind her pubic bone. As the heroine thrashed on the bed, begging her lover to enter her, Molly had the same sense of frustration. Then the hero finally plowed inside, fucking the heroi
ne with the force of a battering ram.

  Molly pushed a finger into her pussy and slid the base of her thumb back and forth over her clit, grinding down until she came, gasping. But it ended too soon. If the hero could give his woman two back-to-back orgasms, she’d use her hand and BOB to get that for herself.

  Tossing her digital reader aside, she reached into her nightstand and pulled out her personal massager. She cranked it to high, outlining her pussy lips with the pointed tip.

  Images flashed behind her closed eyelids. Deacon ordering her to spread her legs wider, his fingertips digging into the tops of her thighs with enough force to leave tiny bruises. Deacon belly crawling up the mattress, shoving his tongue into her pussy. Then those compelling blue eyes of his locked to hers as he feasted on her and fucked her with his mouth.

  Molly clutched the vibrator and began to move the head around, delaying that first moment of pleasure even as she craved the instantaneous explosion of it. Whimpers stuck in her throat as she tried to keep them from becoming needy moans.

  So close, so close, so close.

  Her body couldn’t hold off any longer. She arched when the first pulse hit with enough power to make her cry out. She found herself holding her breath until that last hard throb. Then she gasped, air filling her lungs, her head buzzing as loudly as her vibrator.

  Once her heart stopped racing and her breathing leveled out, she blindly reached out to set her vibrator aside. Her hand connected with something solid and warm on the side of the bed.

  Deacon.

  Soft lips brushed her forehead, her temples, the corners of her lips. “Fucking hot, babe.”

  Still floating in the fuzzy aftermath of her orgasm, she reached for his hand and peered at him from beneath her lashes. “Show me how you touch yourself.”

  Deacon’s eyes were molten as he lowered the zipper, and his camo shorts whooshed to the floor. “Lick it,” he said gruffly, holding his palm closer to her mouth.

  Licking and nibbling on his rough and warm skin, she relished his taste: salt and musk.

  He dragged the rough fingertips of his other hand across her breasts. When she sucked his pinkie into her mouth, he said, “Enough.”

  Then Deacon wrapped the damp palm around his cock, showing her how he primed himself, with long, slow pulls, from root to tip. Then he started to stroke without pause.

  The sound of his hand slapping his own flesh was one of the sexiest things she’d ever heard. Watching him was one of the hottest things she’d ever seen. The way his eyes glittered. The sheen of sweat on his shaved head. The dichotomy of the hard set of his jaw and the soft set of his lips. All a visual feast.

  A groaned, “Fuck yeah,” accompanied the first warm splat on her breast. He jerked his shaft faster, aiming at her nipples. He made a satisfied grunt when a milky rivulet of his come disappeared into her cleavage. The last spurts landed on her belly.

  A satisfied gleam settled on his face as he looked at the marks he’d left on her body.

  He said, “Close your eyes.”

  Before Molly’s eyes drifted shut, she saw him yank his shirt over his head. Then she felt gentle swipes of cotton as he cleaned her.

  Deacon placed a featherlight kiss on her lips. “I’ll lock up and call you later.”

  Molly’s last conscious thought was, How sweet.

  • • •

  HER phone buzzed on the nightstand.

  She blindly reached for it and rolled to her back. Never good news at midnight. Never good news when Uncle Bob’s name showed on the caller ID. “Hello?”

  “Molly. It’s Bob. Your uncle.”

  She didn’t snicker at her usual Bob’s your uncle joke. “What happened to Grams?”

  “She was having some problems, so I took her to the hospital. They were keeping her overnight for observation.” He paused. “It’s a good thing because she had a heart attack.”

  All the air left her lungs.

  “Her heart is in bad shape. That’s all the doctor will say.”

  “Which hospital is she in?”

  “The one in Norfolk.”

  “They didn’t transfer her to the cardiac unit in Omaha or Lincoln?” Molly said sharply.

  “She refused to go. Said she’d have Doc Danvers treat her and not some stranger.”

  That sounded like her stubborn grandma.

  “Molly, you need to come home,” he said gently. “As soon as possible if you wanna say goodbye.”

  She closed her eyes. But it didn’t stop the tears. “Is she conscious?”

  “In and out. Jennifer and Brandi were here talking with her earlier . . . Now she’s not responding.”

  Molly had to hold her tongue. Why hadn’t they called her?

  Beside the point now.

  “I’ll leave Denver within the hour.” Driving straight through would be faster than waiting for a flight to Omaha from DIA and then renting a car to get to her small hometown outside of Norfolk.

  “I’ll tell her you’re coming. I know she’ll hold on until then.”

  She swallowed the lump in her throat. “See you soon.”

  After she hung up, she sent out a silent plea. Please, Grams, hang on until I can see you one last time.

  One last time.

  Sobs racked her whole body. Tears streamed down her face. She rocked, trying to calm herself, holding her pillow to her chest to try to keep her heart from hurting.

  Get a handle on your sorrow, girl, and get a move on. There’ll be plenty of time for crying later.

  Hearing Grams’s voice gave her the push she needed. She dragged herself into the bathroom. Splashing cold water on her face helped the blotchiness but did little to reduce the swelling in her eyes. She swept her toiletries into a travel bag. As she stared at her closet, she couldn’t decide what to bring. Annoyed with her indecision, she pulled random clothes off hangers and dropped them into the suitcase at her feet.

  Packed, she rolled her suitcase into the living room. She snagged the cords for her various electronics and shoved them into the outside pocket of the suitcase.

  Now what?

  Let people know she’d be gone. She’d text Amery and Presley in the morning. No reason to freak them out now. Her finger hovered over Deacon’s name. Should she call him? He hadn’t left here long ago. He’d probably still be up.

  And what will you say to him? When you don’t even know what’s going on?

  Good point. Besides, he’d warned her that he didn’t do family shit. And her family shit was about to get real shitty, real fast.

  Car loaded, gas tank full, a six-pack of Red Bull on the passenger’s seat, Molly pulled onto I-80 going east. She’d be in her Nebraska hometown in roughly eight hours.

  During the long-ass hours in the car, she wondered if this was the last time she’d ever make this drive. With her grams gone, she’d have no reason to go back.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  THE last thirty hours seemed like a bad dream.

  The only bright spot was her grandma had come to for a few minutes.

  “You’re here, sweet girl.”

  “Don’t I always turn up when you least expect it?”