That night as we’re walking into our usual stomping grounds, Hawkey Time, I feel the weight of my plan kicking my ass. I haven’t fucked around with anyone since the night I got that phone call and not because I haven’t had it offered, because I have, repeatedly and often. I’ve been on a dry spell because the only one I want is Frankie, and for once I don’t feel the need to get lost in some meaningless ass. I talk a big game most of the time, but I know what I want and what I want is her, and there isn’t a chick in here that is going to compare. Project “Get Some” just turned into a boys’ night out with my brothers and Trent. Most likely ending with me stroking my own cock when I get home. When did I become this fucking guy?
We’ve been here for two hours just drinking, dicking around, and turning down advances from women left and right when shit gets real.
“Ohhhhh fuuuuuuck,” Sonny says under his breath.
I’m more drunk than I’ve been in a long time, so I’m a little slow on the uptake when I see the Princess headed our way with Flashdance right behind her, a hand on her back to guide her. Reggie follows them, shrugging his shoulders apologetically. You have got to be fucking kidding me, right? I mean, who the fuck keeps testing me like this, and how much can I take before I go off?
I glance briefly at Sonny and Mav and they both look a little worried. At least those two haven’t had more than a beer each…someone’s going to need to have a clear head for this.
“My Loves! What are you guys doing here?” she asks in that voice that hits me straight in the dick every time.
“Just blowing off some steam. Deac’s been training hard…we’ve got some big fights coming up,” Mav tells her as he gives her a hug and a small wave in Cristiano’s direction.
She pecks Sonny on the cheek and waves to Trent and then turns to me.
“I’m surprised that you’re drinking. You normally don’t allow yourself when you’re training.” She tilts her head a little baffled.
I know that if I open my mouth, something hateful is going to come out because of Cristiano standing with his hand on her like he has every right to, so I just shrug and ignore the hurt look that crosses her face. I don’t even greet her; I can’t bring myself to touch her in the slightest way right now. I am too drunk, too on edge, and I don’t trust myself.
“You guys want to join us? There’s plenty of room,” Sonny, ever the nice guy, asks them.
As Frankie is answering yes, Cristiano is saying no, and I don’t know whether to be pissed off or happy about that. She glances over at him.
“Oh, did you want to sit somewhere else?”
“No, no, mi amor. This is fine, I just wasn’t sure that there would be room for all of us once Indie shows up.”
“My love?” Really? Fuck him.
She laughs. “There’s always room for Indie…don’t you worry about her!”
That gets a laugh out of everybody at the table—well, everyone but my moody ass.
There is one chair open next to me and one on the other side of Mav. It’s clear that I’m not moving, so while Cristiano is helping Frankie off with her coat, Sonny moves around the table to the empty seat next to Mav so that Cristiano and Frankie can sit together. Why the fuck they need to sit together is beyond me. Just as she’s sitting in the chair to my right, she leans in and brushes a kiss across my cheek. It feels like white hot heat shoots throughout my body, and all I can do is lean into her kiss and inhale her scent. A scent that I know so well, a scent that I could pick out of a room full of heavily perfumed women. I’m instantly hard and have to adjust myself as she settles into her chair. She sits and crosses her legs, the skirt of her cream-colored sweater dress rising up revealing her garter belt tattoo. My eyes are riveted to the spot, and all I can think about is how I want to lick it, bite at her inner thigh where the ink wraps around, kiss and suck the lace that I know is so close to the crease of her ass. I’m so focused on my own lust-filled thoughts that I flinch when I see a tan finger begin tracing the delicate edges of the garter. The tick in my jaw is instantaneous, the grip on my beer nearly enough to shatter the amber bottle.
“This is new, no? I would have remembered seeing this,” Cristiano says to her in a voice full of heat that makes me see red.
Frankie turns to me, effectively shifting out from under his wandering fingers that I want nothing more than to break.
“Not really. I think about a year and a half, right, Deac?”
I nod and murmur, “Sounds about right,” before downing the rest of my beer and signaling the waitress for another round.
Mav leans in close so that I am the only one that can hear him, “You sure you want another round, brother? We can go if you’re ready.”
He sounds so hopeful that I almost agree until I hear the next words out of Flashdance’s mouth.
“I can’t wait to see the new tattoo you got. All the mystery has me so intrigued.”
My blood goes cold at the words “new tattoo.” I’m not sure what emotion to tap into first—the anger or the hurt. Before I can decide, Indie plops into the seat opposite me and gives me what can only be described as the stink eye.
“What’s with the face, Deac? You look like someone just pissed on you.”
She says it with a nasty little smirk. She knows that I’ll remember her telling me not to piss on Frankie when we spoke earlier, right before she hung up on me.
“Nothing at all, Jones, nothing at all.” I turn to my girl and I’m sure that she is afraid to see the hurt in my eyes and that’s why she won’t quite meet them.
“You got new ink, Princess…without me?” I try to sound as nonchalant as possible, though I’m not sure if I succeed.
“It wasn’t like that, Deacon,” she all but whispers.
“Oh, for the love—calm down, you beast. You can shake the sand out of your vagina right now. I took her to a girl that has done some work for me because it’s in a…‘sensitive’ area,” Indie says, laughing at my reaction.
I still haven’t looked away from Frankie and notice her wince at Indie’s words.
“Oh, now I am very intrigued to see this ‘sensitive area,’ mi amor. Very intrigued,” Cristiano says in that stupid accent of his.
She laughs him off but still hasn’t met my eyes. What is it, and more importantly, where is it?
“You guys are all ridiculous,” she huffs. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I am going to the washroom. Indie, grab me a drink when she comes back around please?” she throws over her shoulder as she walks away from the table.
I look down at my hands holding on to a fresh beer that I don’t even remember the girl bringing. My mind is on Frankie and her new ink and the things I want to do to her old ink. Tipping back in my chair, I peer through the crowd in the direction that she went.
“Fuck it,” leaves my mouth, too low for anyone to hear, about two seconds before I stand up and walk in the direction that Frankie disappeared to. I don’t give a shit if everyone knows where I’m going.
By the time I make it to the back of the bar where the ladies’ room is situated, I’ve been groped by more hands than I can count and I’m pretty sure I was slipped at least two phone numbers and what felt like a key card for a hotel room. MMA is becoming more and more popular with the ladies, and it seems like I’m being recognized way more often.
Frankie is just walking out of the bathroom when I grab her by the wrist and pull her into an alcove that has an ancient looking payphone and nothing else except really dim lighting.
“Deacon!” she yelps when I push her gently against the wall.
“Show me,” I whisper against her ear, pressing into her, molding her softness into the hard lines of my body. I don’t pull away; I just keep my lips to the shell of her ear, waiting for her response.
“Show you what?” she breathes against my neck.
“Don’t play with me, Princess, I’m all out of control for the night. I used every last bit of it when I watched Rico Suave put his hands on you. Show. Me,” I growl.
“Rico Suave?” she asks with an almost exasperated giggle. “Deac, there is no way in hell that I am showing you, especially in a bar, you ass!” Her voice says that she’s angry with me, but her hands at my back clutching my shirt, pressing me closer to her, say something different.
“Where is it? On that perfect ass of yours?” I ask as I bring my hand from the wall and slide it over her waist, over the swell of her hip, then behind her to cup one rounded cheek.
She shakes her head that I’m wrong, eyes wide at the path my hand just took, no doubt.
“Tell me that you didn’t put it right above your pretty, little pussy, Frankie.” I nip her ear and groan into her hair when she gasps and presses tighter into my chest. The hand that isn’t on her ass cradles the back of her head, my fingers tangling into her hair, tilting her head a bit to give me better access to her neck and the pulse that I can see there. I lower my head and place a kiss on that rapidly beating spot and then swipe my tongue across it, eliciting yet another sound out of her that is part moan, part plea.
“Deacon, we cannot do this here. What the hell is with you and walls anyway?” she asks in a somewhat amused voice.
“I don’t know what it is. I just need to feel you—all of you—and this seems to be what happens when I reach a point where I can’t deny myself anymore. Stop making me deny myself, Frankie. I don’t like it.”
The last part leaves my mouth without me even realizing what I’m saying. Not that I don’t mean it, I’m just not sure that I want her to know how much power she actually has over me. I shake the thought off—I’ve had too much to drink to analyze those kinds of things right now. I go back to trailing kisses across her jaw, ending at her ear, where I again nip the lobe.
“Are you gonna show me, baby, or should I keep guessing?” I ask her softly.
She manages to get her hands in between us and gives a little shove to my chest. “No, Deac, I am most definitely not going to show you,” Frankie tells me, her tone firm.
“Okay, you don't have to show me, but I'll tell you right now, I find out that you showed your ‘sensitive areas’ to Cristiano or anyone else, I'm gonna knock heads, Princess.”
She snorts at me, and it does nothing but make me harder.
“I'll show my sensitive areas to whomever I want, Deac. I don't belong to you!” she huffs out in that raspy voice of hers. I can hear the lie in her words though. I hope that she can too.
“That's where you're wrong, Frankie,” I tell her, and mean it.
“Oh yeah? Why don't you tell that to Veronica then!” she accuses, lip curled in a face that makes her look like she tastes something foul.
I laugh. “Veronica? I haven't been with Veronica in a while. Jealousy looks really, really good on you though. Hot as hell,” smirking at her frown.
It’s true I haven’t been with Veronica or anyone else. Blow jobs don’t count, right? I'm going with no, no, they don't.
“Why don’t you help me forget all about her? It won’t be hard. Well, something will be hard, but not the forgetting,” I say trying not to let the threatening laugh escape.
“Just what I want—to be used to fuck some other girl out of your system,” she says, her frown turning into a scowl.
I nudge her with my hips and my rock hard cock, which gets her attention if the shiver that races up her spine is any indication.
“Let’s get a couple things straight. One: I'd never use you for anything. Anything.” I bend to make eye contact. “And two: the only one in my system is you, and trust me when I say, nobody is going to be able to fuck you out,” I utter with complete and total sincerity.
“Lovely, Deacon. I can see now why they call you the Hitman, you ass,” she says, a little exasperated and a whole lot turned on. I can see it in her fiery blue eyes, in her rapidly beating pulse.
The Princess wants me.
She pushes against my chest making me take a step back and slides past me. I let her go, for now. Watching her ass sway in that fuzzy dress that hugs every one of her perfect curves. Lace socks peeking over the top of her calf high boots, making me want to fuck her wearing nothing but them.
Jesus fuck, I want her. I have to figure out a way to get her to stop walking the hell away from me! Shaking my head and giving myself a second to get my raging hard on under control, I hit the men’s room before I go back out to our table. Soon as I get there, I’m pissed all over again when I see her and Cristiano sitting next to each other, his arm draped on the back of her chair and her laughing at something he’s saying. At least he isn’t feeling her up this time. I'm not sure I'd stop myself from hurting him right now.
The scowl on my face firmly in place, I sit in my chair, leaning back on two legs trying not to pay any attention to them. I bullshit with my brothers who seem to be working overtime to keep me engaged, poke fun at Indie some, but when he starts whispering in Frankie's ear and kissing her jaw, her allowing him to, it all stops. I don’t think, I just act. I look over at the bar, see some chick that’s been throwing “fuck me” eyes all night and say screw it. Guess my original mission is back on. My chair slams down hard, I reach for my wallet in my back pocket and throw down two hundred dollar bills.
“It's been fun, guys, but I've had about all I can take for one night. I'm out of here,” I say pointedly.
Trent stands up to follow me but I stop him.
“You stay with her, big man. Go with Reggie, make sure the Princess gets home safely. I won't need you tonight,” I tell him inclining my head toward the woman at the bar.
I can feel my brother’s eyes boring into me, willing me not to be a dumbass, but I’m determined. I make the mistake of glancing at Indie who is shooting daggers at me, shaking her head in disgust.
“Deacon, you sure you don't want us to head out with you? We have an early gym time tomorrow anyways, brother,” Sonny tries.
“Nope, you guys stay and have fun. I'll make sure I make it home in time for the gym.” I clap him on the back and turn to leave when I catch the look on Frankie's face. She is trying to hide it, but I know my girl—she’s hurt. Her eyes are glassy, like she’s trying not to cry, but I can see her bottom lip trembling, sure that she wants to. She refuses to look at me, and that kills me. I don’t want to take anyone home but her, so why the fuck can’t I? Why is this so goddamned difficult? Why is she so difficult?
I lean down and put my lips to her ear, pushing Cristiano's arm off of her chair, not caring that he isn't happy about it.
“Come with me, come home with me and…come. Over and over.” I'm not sure if anyone else at the table hears me, and I don't really give a fuck. All I know is that I want this, want her so bad I can't think straight, and if she doesn't come with me, I know I won't be leaving with anyone else. This woman has got me so twisted.
She hasn't moved or said anything, and if it weren't for her erratic little puffs of breath, I wouldn't have thought she heard me. She finally pulls away enough to look at me. She's searching my face, my eyes, for what, I don't know.
“Why?” she breathes, her voice cracking a bit on that one word.
I lean in again trying to control the impulse to just yank her out of her seat and drag her out of there.
“You know why. Do you really want me to get into it here with all of them listening, because you know they are, right?”
I see her eyes dart around the table and chuckle a little while I do the same. They're all pretending not to listen well, except for Cristiano. He's openly trying to hear what we're saying. I smirk at him and go back to whispering in her ear.
“I'll tell you what—I’ll leave, by myself, and give you some time to follow and say goodbye. Have Reggie bring you to my place. I’ll be waiting for you, but Frankie, don't make me wait long, yeah? I'm through with all that shit. I need to be inside of you. It's time that I show you how good we can be together.”
I don't give her a chance to answer, I just scoop up her hand and lay a kiss to my spot, whistling as I amble out, straight past the bar and the hot, little Spanish chick who thought she was coming home with me.