Frankie’s been at my place almost a week now, and although she sleeps in my bed every night, in my arms, all we’ve done is sleep. Something isn’t quite right with my girl at the moment and I can’t figure out what the fuck it is. I’ve been in the gym no less than ten hours a day, but tonight, I’m taking the night off to have dinner with Frankie. No brothers, no security, just us. I’ll cook for her; maybe that will help me get her out of her panties. Lying next to her every night, waking up tangled in each other, and I’m a walking fucking hard on. Who the fuck am I kidding? I was hard a lot even when I could take her whenever I wanted. All she has to do is walk into a room and I go solid. I’m like a damn thirteen-year-old punk again. It’s worse now though because I have no place to put that raging hard on except my own hand, and that’s only fun while you’re doing it.
Reaching her studio, I look through the glass partition and see that she’s in the middle of a class. My heart stutters then stops before it takes off at a punishing pace when I see her. The first thing I notice is that she isn’t dancing with Flashdance. No, he’s hovering in the corner by the music system eyeing Frankie and the guy she is dancing with. I’ve not seen him before and he’s definitely a pro and not one of her students. She brings in different dancers all the time to help with choreography and shit, but I bet that Cristiano is pissed as hell that she’s brought someone in to help with what looks like the Tango—their specialty. They’ve won more awards in Latin dancing for their Tango than any other form of dance when they were partners. Turning my attention back to the Princess, I lean against the glass, my arms raised, gripping the ledge above my head. Watching her dance with another man is like the sweetest fucking form of torture. She’s incredible, sensual, so goddamn sexy. Frankie dances like I fight. All heart, with everything that she is, because it matters. It’s who she is.
She has on a black dress that is slit high in the thigh, and with every kick, I catch a glimpse of black lace panties. Jesus fuck. Whoever this guy is, he’s good. I want to fucking kill him right now for having his hands all over—and I mean all the fuck over—my girl, but he’s got talent. I watch as she flicks her feet in between his legs, her movements clean and precise. He pushes her away and spins her back into him, lifting her so that his face is pressed against her chest before sliding her down his front all the way into a split on the floor. Grabbing her by the wrists, he pulls her back into his hold and then spins and dips her around the floor in a wide circle as the class watches. I’m worried about her head when I watch the Tango King twirl her away and then back into his arms, her leg wrapped high around his waist as he bends to the floor.
I can’t take any more and am about to walk away when I realize that Frankie is looking right at me. My gaze locks on to hers, and I watch, more turned on than I should be, as her back is pressed to his front, his hands curved around her ribs, brushing the underside of her tits as he buries his face in her neck swaying them back and forth, and all the while she’s watching me. Her eyes blue flames pinning me to the spot and lighting my ass up. It’s like she’s beckoning to me. Telling me that she sees me and that her every movement is done with me in mind. One of his hands travels right up the center of her, palm flat, and then encircles her throat gently, eliciting a growl from me.
Shaking my head no, she tosses his hand away forcefully as she turns into his hold, breaking our eye contact. I can’t watch anymore. I’m so hard I could probably fuck her through the wall. Looking to where Flashdance is still standing, I smile when I catch him glaring at me. He’s not dumb. He’s aware of what just went on between Frankie and I. What he doesn’t know is that little eye fucking she gave me is gonna get her fucked. Tonight. Smirk firmly in place, I poke my head in the studio just as they take their bows.
“Frankie!” I call out, stopping her. Slowly she turns to face me just as Cristiano makes it to her side, placing a proprietary hand on the small of her back. She glances at him and smiles but steps away, breaking contact, his hand falling away in the process.
“Yes?” she asks a little breathlessly.
“As soon as this class is over I’m taking you home.” And fucking you until you can’t walk is implied in my tone. Although I don’t say the words, she knows. She can feel it and when she nods her head in acceptance, I grin wickedly at her and then turn it up a notch when I look into the furious face of Cristiano. Motherfucker looks about one word away from a stroke. Let me see what I can do to help that along. “Oh, and Princess, love the black lace. It’s my favorite on you.”
Back at my place, it takes me nearly an hour to get rid of Reggie, Trent, and my pain in the dick brothers. When I finally do, I head for the kitchen and start pulling stuff out for dinner. Everything prepped for our meal, I wait on the Princess to finish with her shower. I can’t stop myself from thinking about her, naked, wet, flushed from the heat of the water. Groaning, I slide my hand into the front of my low slung sweatpants and squeeze my cock roughly, willing myself into control. I’m startled from my nasty thoughts when I hear what sounds like a woman moaning throughout the kitchen. The fuck? Turning, I see Frankie walking in with the iPad, controlling the sound system.
“This is straight up porn music, you know that, right?” I ask, causing her steps to falter. “You trying to seduce me with dirty music, Princess?” The flush starts at her chest and inches up her neck to her cheeks. Following its path, my gaze lingers on her mouth and her lip caught in between her teeth. “What song is this? It’s about to get you fucked.” There will be no bullshit between us tonight. I’m just telling her how it is. My mouth and my cock are on the same page, and they both want Frankie.
“‘Wa-waiting Game,’” she stammers making her way slowly to where I’m leaning against the counter, my hand still tucked into the front of my sweats and boxer briefs, holding on to my cock. Placing the iPad down, she looks at me through lust glazed eyes. “Are you cooking?” She’s trying to change the subject. It won’t work. I’m too fucking worked up.
“Later. Who were you dancing with today?”
“Oh.” She’s thrown off by my abrupt change in topic. Little does she know. “That was Roman. He and I bounce ideas for choreography off of each other all the time and he needed me to help him out.” She glances down at the hand in my waistband and quickly back up. Snaking my arm out, I hook her around the waist and pull her to me, swinging Frankie onto the counter and stepping in between her legs in one quick, fluid motion. Soft, tiny hands find my bare shoulders to steady herself and I use it to my advantage and push in a little closer. Close enough to see the navy flecks in her crystalline eyes and the rapid pulse in her throat. Pressing my lips to that spot, I smile against her coconut-scented skin when she gasps. I love that no matter how many times we’ve done this, my lips on her elicit that same reaction. Every. Time. Dragging my lips up until I end at her ear, “Does dancing with him make you hot?” I breathe against her.
“No.” Her answer is nothing more than an exhale.
“Mmmm, no? Watching you with him made me hot. Not as hot as you eye fucking me while he touched you though.” Pressing in even tighter, I can feel the heat of her pussy against my bare skin. Taking my hands, I place them on her knees. She glances down, watching as they make a path inward to her thighs. Pressing and kneading, my fingertips nearly touching her pussy through the thin cotton of her shorts. Never stopping, I drag my callused touch back to her knees where I begin the journey all over again, this time grazing against her clit in the softest touch. A touch that sets her legs to tremble and me to rock my hips forward, digging my now solid cock into the cabinet. The bite of wood not affecting me in the least. Frankie’s breath catches when I use a fingernail to trace over her, pressing the material into her wetness. I groan when I realize that she isn’t wearing anything under the tiny bottoms. Eyes clashing, “I never thought I would enjoy watching another man with his hands on you. I think it was knowing that the whole time he touched you, you wanted it to be me. You were thinking about me fucking you. Weren’t you?” My hands are still roaming over her and into those barely-there shorts. With every pass of my fingers over the damp lips of her pussy, of her clit, she arches into my touch a little more. “Weren’t you, Frankie? You were imagining that those hands all over you were mine. That it was my cock pressed into your back.” I lean back so that I can see her face clearly. “Tell me you wanted me, Frankie. I want to hear you say it,” I demand softly while my fingers continue their sweetly torturous path.
“Deacon, we can’t keep doing thi—ahhhh,” she moans as I dip my thumb into her, running it back up her slit then out to drag the wetness along her thigh to her knee.
“Yes. We can,” I inform her as I bend and lick the trail I left, sucking at her soft skin along the way. Reveling in the way her legs quiver under my lips and her nails dig into my shoulders. Once I reach her center, she tenses in anticipation, her breath held waiting for my next move. Instead of putting my mouth where we both want it, I place a kiss on the inside of each thigh, nipping and then soothing. “Tell me that you wanted me, Frankie. And that you want me now, and I’ll give you what you want. What we both want.” Placing another kiss to her sex-scented skin, I wait her out, hovering over her pussy, breathing the scent of her arousal. Jesus fuck, if she doesn’t say yes . . . running my nose over her clit, she clutches my head, pulling the hair from its tie. She’ll say yes.
“I wanted you. All I could think about was you inside of me, your hands on me. You understand my body, what I want, everything I need. I need you now.” I can’t see her face, but I can hear the heat in her words, the carnality in her rasp. “Fuck me, please. Dirty like you used to, Deac. Like if you didn’t claim me you would die, I would die. Please?” she begs as she writhes, trying to put her sweet cunt closer to my face. Growling, I yank her shorts down her legs and over her feet, tossing them somewhere behind me. Frankie starts to lie back when I still her with my hands against her spine. The granite is too hard and cold for what I have in mind. Placing her legs over my shoulders, my palms flat against the center of her back, I stand, bringing her with me, perfectly aligning her pussy and my mouth. Placing a kiss right to her center, I turn to the wall closest to us and make my way over.
“Deacon,” she moans, tightening her hold on me. “I’m going to fall,” she says halfheartedly.
Glancing up from in between her legs, “Do you trust me?” I ask. When she hesitates and I see that little flicker of doubt shadow her eyes, I die a little inside. “Do you trust me to keep you safe, Princess?” I clarify. She nods that she does and that’s all the encouragement I need. I press her back against the wall, holding her there as I delve into her pussy. Her soft moan echoes the ones coming from the speakers, fueling me. With my hands under her ass, I hoist her a bit higher and nuzzle right into her heat, her wetness on my face, clinging to the stubble of my beard. Groaning, I pull her clit into my mouth and release it with an audible pop before I press my tongue deep into her, spearing in and out, mimicking what my cock is aching to do. I hum low in my throat while my mouth covers her, the vibrations making her call out my name and clutch the long strands of my hair as she grinds into my face.
I smile against her glistening lips and pull back just far enough to blow a soft breath over her and watch as her pussy quivers, her body begging me for release just as her words are. “Don’t tease me, Deacon. I want to come, please let me come,” she pleads.
“You want to come all over my face, baby? Do it. Come all over my face and then I’m going to make you come all over my cock. Over.” I lick right through her center and flick my tongue around her clit. “And over.” My tongue flattens on her again as I use my beard to rasp against her and almost come all over myself at the low throaty sound she makes. “And over. Until you can’t stand. Until you can’t take it anymore and you beg me to stop just so I can start again. I’ll fuck you dirty, Princess. I’ll fuck you dirty until we’re both clean.” I never remove my mouth, every word uttered against her pussy while she grinds against me, my words bringing her closer. I won’t be able to take much more of this. I need to be buried inside my girl—now. I stop teasing her and fuck her with my tongue, my lips, my beard, and when she comes, it’s long and loud and fucking hot as hell. Flicking over her one last time, I don’t give her a chance to come down from the high she’s on, sliding her down so that her legs are wrapped around my waist instead of my head. As quickly as I can, I turn us toward the media room, the closest to us and therefore perfect. Reaching down, I hit the recline button on the overstuffed chair and untangle her legs from around me and place her in the center of it. My hands braced on the arms, I lean over her and place a kiss on her open mouth, the taste of her pussy dancing over both of our tongues as they meet. Lifting her arms over her head, I reach for the hem of her shirt and pull it off, using it to wipe the wetness covering my face. Smirking, I let my eyes take in the flush covering her body and the beard burn on her thighs. “You look so fucking beautiful like this, Frankie. Spread open for me, fucked, wet, and ready.” I can’t take my eyes off of all she’s offering. She reaches out and tugs on the elastic waistband of my sweats.
“I want these off. Now,” she insists.
“Yes, ma’am,” I salute her and do as I’m told, making her smile. I need those lips wrapped around my cock.
Climbing onto the chair, I place my knees on either of her hips and stretch, sliding my dick in between her tits. Frankie doesn’t hesitate, pushing them together, and takes the tip of me into her mouth when I push through the tunnel she’s created for me. I do it one more time before straightening my legs, gripping the back of the chair as I thrust into Frankie’s mouth. We moan in unison, her hands clasping my ass and pulling me further in. My head falls back on my shoulders as I fuck her mouth, pushing her head farther and farther into the chair back with every thrust. “I’ve missed this mouth. God, I’ve fucking missed it. You suck me so fucking good, Princess. This mouth is mine,” I tell her as I jerk my hips forward, triggering her gag reflex a little but not pulling back. “That pussy that I’m about to tear the fuck up is mine. And that tight little ass is mine too.”
I go to pull out and Frankie pulls me back in, hollowing out her cheeks and swallowing my whole length to my balls. Jesus fuck, when did she learn to do that? Growling, I do my best not to come. I feel a trickle of sweat making its way down my spine as I fight it. Pushing me back so that she can take a breath, I hop off the chair and bring her with me, spinning us so that her back is to me and I’m now the one sitting in the chair.
My hands on her waist, I guide her backwards into my lap and onto my waiting cock. “That’s it, baby. Slow and easy. You’re so fucking tight.” Frankie whimpers as I stretch her. She lowers herself further. With my hands under her ass, I spread her wider in order to take more of me then lift her back up, groaning at the way she grips me before easing down again. The need to claim her is too much. My hand travels up her body over her tits to her throat, encircling it gently, possessively. “I’m the only one that’s allowed to hold you here,” I remind her of Roman doing the same while they were dancing. “You’re mine, and no one will ever know that kind of possession but me.” I punctuate my words by thrusting hard and deep, consumed completely by her pussy. Her breath catches as I rock into her while I pull her back to meet my demanding thrusts without actually pulling out. I’m afforded a full body view when I lean back into the chair. The flush on her skin, her perfect tits with nipples pulled tight, her ink, and that beautiful pussy swallowing my cock over and over.
She wants it dirty, but I’m so far gone I’m fighting coming with every move I make. Grabbing her hand, I bring it up and put her middle finger into my mouth, wetting it. “Help me make you come, Frankie. I want to watch you play with your pussy while I fuck you,” I command while I guide her hand to her clit. “Show me how you made yourself come when I wasn’t there to do it for you.” Frankie leans into me, turning her face into my neck, mouth open against my skin.
“It was never the same,” she pants. “I rubbed and fingered myself, always thinking about you and pretending it was you and it never felt the same.” Her words are like a fist around my balls, my orgasm hovering just at the precipice. Snarling, I roll my hips, angling hers so that I’m hitting her sweet spot and I watch her finger slide over and around her clit, wet and languid before both of our movements turn frantic.
“Jesus fuck, Princess,” I moan as I pound into her with rapid fire thrusts, our skin slapping out a tempo that fills the room, our breathing and low moans joining. “You own me, Princess. Fuck, do you own me, this pussy was made for my cock, made for me to fuck.” I feel her orgasm pulling me under, squeezing almost to the point of pain before rippling around my shaft. “That’s it, baby, come for me. Come all over me.” I let go of her hips just long enough to spread her legs wider over my thighs allowing me to get even deeper, and that pushes us both over the edge.
Frankie cries out, my name like a prayer on her lips over and over as I come so hard my vision goes hazy. My movements slow, and grunting, I thrust one final time before I still. Pulling her hand away from where we’re still joined, I bring it up to my mouth, placing a kiss to her wrist, the scent of us on her fingers is the sexiest thing I’ve ever smelled. I drop her hand and wrap my arms around her as she snuggles into me, placing small pecks on my neck and shoulder. We sit like that, quietly stroking, coming down from an incredible high, allowing our breathing and rapid heartbeats to slow to normal. After a few minutes, I gather Frankie up in my arms, tucking her under my chin as I lower the chair and stand.
“Where are we going?” she asks, her voice heavy with sleep.
“To bed, baby. You wore my ass out.” I chuckle as I make my way to our room, leaving our clothes. I’ll get them later. Once upstairs I lay her down in the bed, crawling in after her, pulling the blanket around us. This is where I’m happiest, not in the Cage, or the gym. Right here, wrapped around my girl. My arm around her waist, I tug her closer and place a kiss to her head, inhaling the smell of us in her hair, on her skin. Frankie sighs, deeply, content, and then again with a resigned air. “What are you thinking so hard about, Frankie?” Voice quiet, I run my fingers up and down her arm soothingly.
“We can’t keep doing this, Deac. We’re not resolving any of our issues. I can’t think. The minute you put your hands on me, I’m done. I can’t remember what I need to protect myself from or why I’m angry, hurt, whatever. All I can think about is your touch and what it does to me. What it means to me,” she says softly. “I love you so much it hurts. It physically hurts me because I am terrified of the power you have over me.” I do my best to not interrupt her. I feel like she needs to get this out, for her. I just continue stroking over her, letting her talk, listening. “You have the power to shatter me, Deacon. I ran to protect you from the danger following me, but also to protect me, from you.” She laces our fingers together. “I can’t be without you, I don’t want to be, but I want to go slow. I need to go slow. You’re too much . . . of everything. It’s a lot for me.” Frankie brings our joined hands up to her mouth and brushes a kiss across my knuckles. “I don’t want you to ever feel trapped or obligated to love me. I wouldn’t survive that either. It would hurt me worse than walking away.” I open my mouth to say that it’s not even a possibility when she turns in my arms so that we’re looking at each other. “Can you do that for me? I know slow isn’t your style—you’re all in, all the way—but I need this. I’m still uncertain of so much, I—I just . . . please?” she begs.
Tangling my hands in her hair, I tip her head back so that I can see her better. My lips touch first her forehead, her eyes flutter closed, and I kiss each eyelid then her nose, finally making my way to her mouth. Softly, reverently, I kiss her, swiping my tongue along her pouty lower lip before pulling away. “I’ll take this as slow as you want me to as long as I don’t have to share you, Frankie. Hell, we can even go on dates if you want, all proper and shit. I’m done sharing you with Flashdance though. That shit is done.” There’s an edge in my voice that I can’t help. That I won’t hide.
“Deacon, you have never had to share me with him. He’s a friend, nothing more. I don’t have room for anyone else in my heart,” she reassures me with her words and a soft kiss to my chin.
My hair falls in a curtain around us when I look down at her. “Whether you have room or not, I’ve had to share you with him. He’s been able to talk to you, laugh with you, put his fucking hands on you, all while I watched. Wishing things were different and that you could let go of your anger long enough to see that it was bullshit. It is bullshit, Princess. So don’t tell me that I didn’t have to share you,” I say harshly.
I don’t mean to lose my temper, but it’s like she’s blind to him and what their friendship does to me. I know she doesn’t see it and isn’t trying to hurt me but she needs to understand that she is. Frankie is the only one capable of hurting me. The only fucking one. So while I’m willing to go slow for her because I understand her fear when it comes to the power our feelings give us over one another, I won’t be going slow so that Cristiano has a chance to talk her into something safer. Fuck what she says, I have a dick, same as him, and I know where the fuck he wants to put it, and that shit ain’t never gonna happen again. Trying to lighten the mood—I hate bringing this shit to our bed, always have—I ask, “Does going slow mean no more fucking and separate bedrooms?” My hands full of her ass, I squeeze and give her a suggestive look.
Frankie laughs and slaps my chest. “You’re a beast. Yes, taking it slow means no sex and separate rooms. We need to be sure about what we want,” she tells me resolutely.
“Oh, I’m sure I want you to put out on the first date,” I tease, slapping her ass. I’m not sure why, but she seems to be pushing this slow thing like I’m going to change my mind about her and I don’t like it. I’ll have to do my best to prove to her that I’m in this. “Because, I’m a sure thing.” Winking I wrap her arms around me, returning mine to where they were, and pull her in tight. “No more talking, it’s making me hard. I have an early gym time, and you’re keeping me awake with your glorious pussy and awesome fucking rack. I think they got bigger,” I tease, kind of, as I rub my chest on hers, brushing against taut nipples and eliciting her gasp. Groaning, I tighten my hold on her ass. “Sleep, you fucking minx, unless you want to put it on me again.” I’m only half kidding. Maybe not even half. Or not one fucking bit.
“Goodnight, Deacon.”
“Goodnight Princess.”