She didn’t want him to respect her, and she sure as hell didn’t want him to worry about her feelings. “Don’t be nice to me. That’s not what this is about.”
He stilled and was quiet for so long, she thought that maybe he hadn’t heard her, that he’d drifted off. But then he said, “You think I should treat you like a whore? We have a history. I care about you, whether you like it or not, whether you welcome it or not.”
She bit her lip against the unwanted emotion bombarding her, had no idea how to reply.
He didn’t say anything else after that, just lay there holding her. Like she mattered. Like he cared. Her stomach flipped, and not necessarily in a good way. The urge to get up and run was almost overwhelming, but she knew he’d do what he’d threatened and come after her this time. She couldn’t risk it. Couldn’t risk his sisters seeing them together.
Dammit. How would she get to sleep now?
Her mind turned to the garage, to the job she loved. The reason she was lying here with Deke in the first place. A couple weeks ago, Piper had put together a quote for a potential customer. A customer they wanted, badly. He still hadn’t made a decision, and all three of them were on tenterhooks while they waited. The guy usually took his cars to R.I.P. Classic, the biggest car restoration business in Miami. If they managed to take that job from R.I.P.—well, it could mean big things for them. Had the potential to get West Restoration’s name out there.
Which meant more work coming their way. It also meant proving Deacon wrong.
“You’re still thinking,” he mumbled into her hair, arm tightening around her waist. “Sleep, woman.”
Dammit. Closing her eyes, she pretended to do just that. At least that way there was no chance of further conversation…
…
She woke curled in a tight ball, screaming.
Strong arms were wrapped around her, warm lips pressed against her temple. “Shh, I’m here.”
“Get the fuck off me!” The angry words burst from her throat, remnants from the nightmare still swimming in her head.
“Alex, calm down.” Deacon’s voice broke through the terror, the sadness, the pounding blood rushing though her ears. His strong arms restrained her as she fought the invisible hands trying to take her from the people she loved, his deep voice low as he whispered in an attempt to soothe and comfort.
She fought the tight feeling in the back of her throat, the sob desperate to escape, and tried to pull herself together. She didn’t want his sympathy, didn’t want to need him, to need anyone.
“You still have them.” His voice was gentle, guarded. “I wondered.”
There had been no secrets from the West family. It wasn’t like she could hide it. Deacon had been living there when she started having sleepovers with Piper and Rusty. He’d woken in the night, like the rest of the house, to her screaming bloody murder.
“I hadn’t been, not often anyway.” Not until you forced your way back into my life.
“Have you tried—”
“Don’t. Just leave it, okay?”
He slid his hand across her shoulder to the back of her neck. “Come here.”
It felt good to be touched, better than good, and she went to him without thought, letting him comfort her despite knowing what a bad idea it was.
Going back to sleep wasn’t going to happen, so she just lay beside him and listened to his slow, steady breaths, the faint thump of his heart against her back as he curled around her.
The next thing she knew, the sun was filtering in through the window and Deacon’s warm hand was coasting down her belly to her hip.
“Morning.” His voice was sleep rough and sexy as hell.
She couldn’t believe it; she’d actually fallen back to sleep. “Hey.”
His fingers moved between her thighs, and he lifted her leg over his, opening her for him. Fingers dipping low, he started toying with her. Heating her up like no one else could.
“You’re already wet for me.”
Yeah. He only had to touch her, look at her, and her body ached for him. He circled her entrance, teased and tormented her until her breathing was choppy and she thrust her hips into his touch. Finally, he pushed two fingers inside her. His other arm came around, underneath her, and he massaged her breast, playing with her nipple, tugging gently. She could feel his cock digging into her ass; he rubbed up against her, hard and restless, urgent. She pushed back against him, telling him without words that she wanted him to put that impressive erection to good use, like now.
He didn’t. He kept up his beautiful torture. Playing her like the weak-willed instrument she was.
It took only minutes for her to become a trembling, screaming mess, coming hard around his thick, thrusting fingers.
That magnificent cock was still pressed into her back, but he didn’t roll her over and screw her into the mattress like she desperately wanted him to. He gave her a quick kiss on the neck and climbed out of bed, heading to the bathroom, where he shut himself in.
“Oh, no you don’t.” Alex climbed out of bed, legs still shaky from what he’d just done to her, and walked to the bathroom door. She gathered her courage and pushed it open.
Her breath stuck in her throat when she saw him. Legs braced apart, boxers shoved down just enough to free his massive erection. He worked himself. Fingers wrapped around his thick shaft, sliding up and down the hard length. Every muscle was bunched tight, abs rigid, thighs rock solid.
He hadn’t seen or heard her, too focused on getting off fast. Head thrown back, eyes closed, biting his bottom lip as he thrust into his fist. She didn’t have to think about it; she moved in behind him and wrapped her arms around his, covering his hand with her own. “Let me.”
He stilled, then shuddered. “Alex.”
Hand never leaving his cock, she moved around to face him. He looked almost panicked. God, she wanted him to lose control; she didn’t want this, whatever the hell this was. Leaning in, she circled one of his flat nipples with her tongue, then nipped gently. He sucked in a rough breath.
“So far this deal has been one-sided. I’ve gotten the new clothes, the orgasms, and instead of letting me get you off, you’ve hidden in the bathroom and taken care of yourself. I want to take care of you, Deacon. Let me.” She pointed at herself. “Sex slave, remember.” Squeezing his cock to stop whatever he was going to say, she took over stroking him fully. “Is this better than your own hand?”
He groaned. “Yes.”
“Thought so, but I think I can go one better.” She dropped to her knees in front of him. The desperate need in his eyes when he looked down at her made her heart skip a beat. It’s just sex. She kept their stares locked when she leaned in and licked the tip. Deacon bucked and reached for the wall for support.
“Yum, tasty,” she purred.
“Jesus.”
Then she took him into her mouth and sucked his beautiful cock as hard and deep as she could. She cupped his heavy balls, massaging, and he groaned, widening his stance to give her better access. He threaded his fingers through her hair, holding it back. His expression changed, eyes hot, control gone. He flexed his hips, pushing deeper into her mouth.
Yes!
“That’s it. Let me fuck that sexy mouth. Take it. Take all of me.”
This was the Deacon she wanted. This Deacon was all about getting off, about taking what he wanted. The businessman who’d blackmailed her into this whole thing in the first place. This was what it was all about. She felt the scale tip, and for the first time it was in her favor.
He wasn’t gentle, but she didn’t want him to be. She loved every minute of it, of watching him lose all that rigid control. She’d had enough of his noble bullshit. Whatever his reasons for treating her with kid gloves—being his sisters’ best friend, or because he’d known her as a sad, screwed-up little brat—it didn’t matter anymore. This was what it came down to. This was what he really wanted from her.