The music is up so loud I don’t hear the door open, but I sense him there watching me slip a loose flowing skirt that hits mid-thigh over my hot pants, wiggling out of them once my skirt is in place. The fluttering in my stomach and the smile I can’t fight are all the proof I need that I’m not alone—Deacon always has that effect on me. Grabbing the remote control, I turn the volume down, quieting the system.
“You don’t have to stop on my account. You know how I love to watch you dance. If you want, you can even show me your new pole routine to go with whatever the hell it was you were just doing,” Deacon says, smiling at me suggestively as he walks over to where I’m standing.
“Yeah right, Deac, we have plans tonight. If I go putting my dirty girl moves on you, we’ll never get out of here,” I joke as I slip my arms around his neck and rub all of my soft spots against him.
His arms instantly wrap around my waist pulling me in tight. “That so, Frankie?”
Shivering at the flinty edge to his voice, I change my mind.
“Maybe we can be late,” I say, sighing as his hands travel over the little bumps of my spine.
Palming my ass, he leans down and runs his nose down my cheek. “I love it when you’re all sweaty like this. You smell like sex. It makes me so fucking hard, Princess.” Inhaling my scent and humming low in his throat, he rumbles, “I’m going to make you do that routine for me when I get you home. My own little private show.”
He slips his hands underneath my short skirt, skimming both big hands over the globes of my ass until he’s cupping them and his long fingers meet at my center.
I turn my face and reach up to nip his jaw. Tangling my hands in his hair, I pull his head down further so that I can reach his mouth. I swipe my tongue over his bottom lip, eliciting a low growl from him. He opens for me, allowing entrance before he takes complete control, running his hands down to the back of my thighs and lifting me. I immediately wrap my legs around his waist as he starts striding across the studio toward my office, our kisses growing frantic. I can feel his hard cock brushing over the seam of my panties and nudging my oversensitive clit with every step he takes.
“Son of a bitch, I’ll be lucky to get these tiny fucking panties ripped off you before I have you bent over your desk,” he says into my mouth, his words turning my pussy molten.
“After watching you dance, this is gonna be fast and dirty. I need to fuck you hard, baby. We can do soft later.”
I shudder in anticipation and feel him smile against my lips.
“Mmmm, tell me how dirty, Deac,” I say in between dipping my tongue against his.
“Fuck,” he growls finally making it into my office, slamming and locking the door behind us, pulling the blinds down.
“You want me to tell you how dirty it’s gonna be, Princess?” he asks as he sets me down on my feet in front of my desk, kicking the chair out of his way.
I nod yes and watch him through hooded eyes as he reaches forward, grabbing the collar of my shirt in both hands. He rips it swiftly, making me gasp in surprise and thrust my chest toward him, hoping that my bra will meet the same fate as my shirt, because I need his mouth on me.
“You like when I get rough with you, Frankie?” Running his open hand across my chest and then into my bandeau, he cups my breast, testing its weight before rolling my pebbled nipple in between his thumb and index finger. We both watch his hand through the thin material. He smiles wickedly at me and pulls the bra up over my tits but leaves it on.
“Look at you, baby. Your skin is getting all pink for me, Frankie.”
Bending, he drags his nose around my nipple and down to the underside of my left breast where he bites and then soothes the sharp sting with a swipe of his tongue. My head falls back on my shoulders, my body ready for him, pussy throbbing in anticipation. Standing up straight again, he gently slaps each of my tits, pulling my gaze to meet his.
“Turn around, Frankie, and put your hands on the desk,” Deacon orders gruffly.
My bones feel on the verge of melting. Turning slowly, I do as he says, glancing at him over my shoulder.
“Ahhhhh, fuck. You’re so fucking beautiful, Frankie,” he says, stepping forward and pressing his hardness against my ass.
My teeth sink into my bottom lip before I release it to smile seductively at him in blatant invitation.
“You keep looking at me like that and you’re gonna get fucked,” he snarls.
“That’s what I’m hoping for, Deacon,” I tell him, pushing into his hard on, giving a little wiggle, wanting to make him as crazy as he’s making me.
He lets out a low groan before he pulls my hips back, flipping my skirt up over my ass. Placing his hand on my back, he presses, forcing me down on my forearms. Slowly, he slips his fingers into the sides of my panties, drags them down my legs, following their trail with his tongue, dipping into the crevice and licking at the wetness there. Letting them fall and pool around my ankles, he straightens and tangles one hand in my hair, tugging and arching my back while he pushes his mesh shorts down with the other hand.
His mouth to my ear, his stubble scraping against the delicate skin, the scent of my arousal lingering on his lips, he tells me, “You’re so wet for me, baby, every time, so fucking wet. I want my cock covered in it, Frankie. I want it dripping with how wet I make your pussy.”
As he’s talking, he’s rubbing the head of his dick against me, swirling it into my wetness and dragging it up in between my ass cheeks and then gliding it back down to tease me. Over and over, until I’m ready to beg him.
“You want my cock?”
“Please, Deacon, I want it,” I tell him, my hips rocking against his, completely out of my control.
Tightening his hold on my hair, he whispers, “I’m going to spread you wide open so that I can look at my pussy, Frankie, and it is mine, glistening with how much you want it,” ghosting over my clit with his satiny head, making me tremble with need. “Once I see how pretty it is, I’ll slam into you, watch as you swallow me up. All of me, baby.” Dipping into me slightly to demonstrate, my hips follow his retreat as he says gruffly, “Then I’ll pull out so that I can see all of that sweetness covering my cock.” He smacks my ass, hard. It throbs and shoots a rush of heat straight through my blood.
My back arched even more, I raise my ass in invitation, praying that he fucking takes it because I am about to come right here, right now, and I’d much rather do it with him buried inside of me. Knowing me and knowing my body so well, he’s already aware of what I need.
Laughing softly, he says, “You done with the talking, baby?”
I writhe beneath him in agreement. Which causes his hand to come down on my ass again.
“Hold still, Frankie, or this will be over before we even start,” he hisses through clenched teeth. His control obviously slipping.
Pressing back, not caring that I’m begging him with my body instead of my words, he mutters a low string of curses. He untangles his fingers from my hair and spreads my ass cheeks he leans back to look at my pulsing center, just like he said he was going to do. I should be embarrassed, I know I should, but I honestly don’t care and I don’t have another second to think about it because he slams home, sending me sprawling across the desk and lifting me nearly off of my feet.
“I told you it was gonna be fast and dirty,” Deacon says through clenched teeth as he pulls out and slides back in hard and deep.
Pulling completely out, he runs his thumb down to my opening, gathering my wetness and dragging it up to settle there before sliding his cock home again, causing me to clench around him. His one hand gripping my ass while he circles my other entrance with his thumb, slowly dipping it in and out to match his thrusts.
As I tense at the invasion, he tells me gently, “Just breathe, baby, I promise I won’t do anything that you don’t want me to do. I’ll always make you feel good.”
Relaxing against the hard desk beneath me, I let out the breath I was holding and spread my feet wider, giving him all the access he needs to make my body sing the way that only he can.
“There’s my girl, I know what you need, Princess,” he says as he resumes the simultaneous thrusting of his thumb and his cock.
Deacon squeezes my ass in his palm and slams into me hard, hitting that spot deep inside of me, the one I thought was a myth, at the same time as he applies more pressure at my puckered entrance and I’m lost. I try to muffle my cries, but it’s nearly impossible, the moan being torn from me in one long breath.
“That’s it, Frankie. Fuck, your pussy is so fucking tight, baby. Yessss, milk my cock, Princess, make me come. I want to feel it all over my dick.” He grunts as he slides nearly all the way out again and angles in even deeper, triggering yet another orgasm. This one pulls him right over the edge with me.
A few minutes after, I’m still blissed out and would love to just crawl onto his lap for the next few hours but we have to go and get ready for tonight. A contented sigh slips past my lips as I adjust my skirt and my borrowed Frankie’s Place shirt. I reach up on my tippy toes to place a kiss along Deacon’s jaw as he holds open the door of my office letting us into the studio. Just as I pass by him he slaps my ass—hard. Laughing and rubbing my stinging cheeks, I try to look at him sternly, but it’s impossible to do while I’m smiling.
“Just when I thought you were being a gentleman,” I admonish, shaking my head at him.
“Baby, you should know better than that!” Deacon tells me as he winks and takes my hand.
We are so wrapped up in each other, we don’t notice that we’re not alone.
“Well, isn’t this just fucking adorable? Do you hold hands with all of your friends, Deacon, or just the ones that you’re fucking?” an obviously bitter Veronica asks loudly from the other side of my studio.
You have got to be kidding me with this shit. I know that he’s fantastic in bed, and out of it, but what the fuck is wrong with these chicks all still trying to get a piece of him? Taking a deep breath, I glance over at him to see how he’s going to handle this one. His body is tense, jaw muscle ticking in that way that I shouldn’t find sexy right now but do.
“Veronica, what I do with my cock is none of your fucking business,” he says, acid and boredom lacing his words.
“You weren't saying that when I was sucking your dick, Deacon!” she hisses.
I can see how angry Veronica is, her body trembling with it, fists clenched in fury.
Holding back my gasp at her words proves impossible. I immediately turn to leave when Deac stops me by putting his hand to the door of my office not allowing me to open it. I don’t want to hear what she’s saying, her words like a million knives to my suddenly bruised heart.
I can feel his breath on my face, hear him whisper my name on a soft breath like he’s talking to himself, as if it weren’t meant for me to hear at all.
“Goodbye, Veronica.” He tosses the words over my shoulder.
“Just like that, this whole time, we meant nothing to you?!” She stomps her foot, literally stomps it, the heel of her shoe thumping loudly on the hard, wood floor, echoing throughout the gym.
“Apparently not.” He shrugs nonchalantly as if he couldn’t give a fuck less. Like they’re discussing something as mundane as the weather, not what she considers to be their relationship.
It’s such a Deacon move. He’s telling her that he doesn’t care, that he never did, in as few words as possible, and I almost feel sorry for her. Almost.
I can feel his eyes on me, never even glancing her way, just staring down at me, which I'm sure is making her even more irate…not that I care. I refuse to look at him, instead keeping my eyes straight ahead, focused on the glass window of my office door. I do not want him to see how hearing Veronica go on and on about them is hurting me. If I give him the opportunity to make eye contact, I’ll be done for and either slap him or kiss him. I’m afraid of both, so I keep my eyes trained forward, my back to him to be safe.
“All for her—your little BFF, the one you spend all of your goddamn time with, put on a fucking pedestal like she’s so perfect? You make me sick, Deacon!” she says in a voice that is rising higher and higher, making me cringe at her obvious loss of control.
“Absofuckinglutely.” I can hear the smirk in his tone, the cheeky fucker.
I still haven’t looked his way, I can’t yet. I’m doing my best not to flee past them both, instead zoning in on the pictures that I can see hanging on the far wall of my office. Trying to tune them out and failing miserably.
“You really are an asshole, Deacon, you know that?” she spits.
“I never claimed to be anything else, just like I never claimed that we were together, Veronica. You came to that assumption all on your own, even when I told you repeatedly that wasn't even close to what was really going on. I’m not sure what gave you that impression, but... “He shrugs and shakes his head at her.
“Fuck you!” she shrieks, stomping her foot yet again, making me wonder if she threw temper tantrums as a child. Inappropriate, I know, but it’s the first thing that comes to mind.
“Nah, I'm good, thanks,” Deacon says to the slamming door and a cloud of overly perfumed air.
I don’t see her leave, but I sure feel it in the way the whole dance studio vibrates from the force of her abrupt and rather loud departure.
He waits about three beats before he speaks. The tension surrounding us is palpable and charged, but so very different from the energy that roiled around us when Veronica was here. The atmosphere then had been volatile; this is something I can’t quite explain…almost like the universe is holding its breath in anticipation.
“You gonna look at me, Princess?” he asks in a soft, soothing voice, shifting so that he is at my side, leaning his shoulder against the door.
“Have you been sleeping with her?” I curse myself for the breathy quality of my voice, the obvious hurt and disappointment. I don’t even know what made me ask. I'm not sure I want to know the answer anyway. Wasn’t it me who wouldn’t let him put a label on us because I was afraid? Did I give him free rein by doing that?
“I haven't had sex with her since before that night,” he says, which is what he's taken to calling when I was attacked. I can hear the truth resonating in his words, but how much does that really matter if what Veronica said is true?
“But you let her give you a blow job?” the dismay clearly evident in my words. He had to know that I would ask, that I wouldn’t let it go, and I sure as hell wouldn’t just take her word for it.
“I did, but Frankie…” He stops talking and takes a deep breath, exhaling forcefully.
“Will you please look at me?” he practically begs. When I don’t comply, he drops his head so that his forehead is resting on my temple. I move away, breaking contact. I’m not ready to forgive him yet. I’m not even sure that I will.
“You and I weren't together and it wasn't even like that. It was just one of those things. I was pissed, she was there, and it happened. She wanted to take it further, I didn’t, and I made her leave. That’s it.”
I scoff. He’s so ballsy…I don't know why I expected him to sugarcoat it for my benefit. “Just one of those things, huh? We’re technically not together now, so is it okay if I go down on Cristiano or let him go down on m—”
Before I can even finish, he’s on me, spinning me, my arms pinned above my head, wrists held in one of his hands, the other tracing my lips with a rough fingertip.
“Shhhh, hear me on this, Princess. We are together, and the only cock these lips are going to be wrapped around is mine.” He taps the center of my bottom lip for emphasis, then leans in to whisper in my ear. “And the only one that's going to be tasting that hot, sweet, little pussy is me.”
I'm pretty sure I came in my panties with that last bit. I know I whimpered, and that was before he really started talking dirty. “Now, say some shit like that to me again and I'll wash your mouth out with something other than soap, you feel me?” he grouses.
My mind is reeling, thinking hateful shit about the two of them together, but my body? My body remembers what he feels like inside of me. How he knows it better than I do. Knows what I crave and how to give it to me even when I have no idea. No, my body is betraying me right now and I hate it. I want to hold on to the hurt and anger her visit caused, but instead I can feel the wetness between my legs again. His heat surrounds me, his breath fans across my face, words falling from his mouth so filthy, so fucking hot, so Deacon. Bending so that he can peer into my eyes instead of talking to the top of my head allows him to wedge his hard thigh in between mine. I have to fight myself, beg my body not to betray me even more by rocking against it.
I pull out of his grasp, and he lets my arms fall, making room for me to push back slightly so that I can take a breath and clear my head a little. I grasp at my fleeting anger that is slowly being overcome by lust, even though I can still feel the lingering effects of just having him buried inside of me.
Looking down, I focus on his chest, on the tattoo that spans across it.
“When am I the only one, Deacon? When does it stop?” I ask him softly, my anger and lust being replaced with sadness, leaving me feeling defeated.
Making eye contact, I can see his hurt, and even regret, but it doesn’t even come close to mine. This, this right here is what I had been afraid of. This all-consuming need to be with him but never really being enough because no woman ever has been. Where does that leave us when all is said and done? How could we ever go back to what we were after we’ve had a taste of what we could be?
Shaking away the sadness that has seeped in and taken over, I let the anger rise to the surface, because that is the only way I’ll come out of this alive. Broken and incomplete in a way I wasn’t aware was possible, but alive.
“You let Veronica suck you off because you were pissed. Do you hear yourself right now, Deac?” I ask. “How long ago was it? So help me God, if you fucking say last week, I will kick your ass, Deacon,” I tell him deadly serious, my fight returning full force at the thought.
He looks away from me, the ticking muscle in his jaw making me nervous. I don’t even want to know anymore, I just want out.
“I would never cheat on you, Frankie. Whether you want to admit it or not, we are together. It’s just you and me, Princess,” he says softly, reaching to brush hair off of my forehead and tuck it behind my ear.
I try my best not to react to his words, to his gentle touch and his habit with my hair.
Staring at his muscled chest I ask flatly, “When, Deacon?”
“The night you were supposed to come to my place from the bar. She showed up and told me that she saw you leave with Cristiano. Said that you guys were practically fucking in the back of a cab.” He says the last through gritted teeth, his body hard. I laugh incredulously at him. “You mean to tell me that Veronica fed you a line of shit that you believed and it pissed you off so badly that your dick found its way into her mouth? You know what, Deacon? Fuck you.”
I manage to get out from between him and the door but don’t make it far before he grabs my arm and jerks me back to him.
“I’m not fucking proud of it, Frankie. I get pissed and I do stupid shit, but I don’t want to be that guy with you. I just—I fucked up. I want to deserve you. I’m trying, Princess,” he says earnestly.
I have nothing to say to that, so I stay quiet, concentrating on getting my breathing under control.
He clears his throat, startling me a bit.
“I didn’t ask before because I didn’t want to know the answer or give you a reason to question me about what went on that night when you didn’t show up. I had no right to ask you, but now, now that we’re together I have the right to ask.”
He steps in front of me, making it so that he can see my answer as well as hear it, his hold on my arm never relenting.
“Did you go home with him that night?”
“Pfft. I hate to tell you, Deacon but your rights went to shit the moment that she walked through the door. Not because you let her blow you, but because of why you let her do it.” I spit the words out, glaring at him.
“Did. You. Take. Him. Home?” he demands in a danger-laced voice.
I just stare unblinkingly at him in answer.
“Did you let him inside what is mine, Frankie?” His tone deathly serious, the volume rising yet the tone lowering menacingly at the same time.
I yank my arm out of his grip. “I’m not yours, Deacon. You won’t let me be because of things like this. You, letting your temper lead you around by your dick.” I wasn’t going to tell him that what he thought was Cristiano and I practically fucking was actually a friend bringing me down from a panic attack. Cristiano was the only one there for me, and I won’t apologize for that. But then Deacon pushed me too far and my temper now matched his own.
“Why can’t you just tell me the truth?” he accuses.
“The truth? You want to know the truth? I was having a panic attack and he helped me through it,” I shout. “I needed you. Again. And again you weren’t there for me. Do you see a pattern here, Deacon?” I ask, my eyes narrowed and glaring. “I need you, you need a blow job. I suffer twice.”
He flinches as if I’d hit him. The hurt that washes over him is like a blanket, covering him completely. “You blaming me, Princess?” His voice is strained when he asks. “You blaming me for his sins? For a panic attack I didn’t know you were having? Why didn’t you tell me?” Shaking his head, he pins me with his beautiful, sorrowful eyes, which right now are murky with pain and guilt.
I don’t really blame him. I’m angry. I just want him to hurt like I’m hurting and to understand that this fight isn’t just about Veronica. It’s bigger than her.
His voice, which a moment ago had been pitched low, is now raised in anger and accusation. “You want to put that all on me? Go ahead if it will make you feel better. I already blame myself for not being able to save you from him that night. Remember this though, both times I wasn’t there when you needed me is because you wouldn’t let me be,” he bites out frustrated. I’ve thrown him.
“None of that shit matters now though, does it? Just answer the question, Frankie.” I’m not sure why he’s putting so much importance on this. To ease his own guilt maybe? I won’t allow it and refuse to answer him, crossing my arms over my chest. It does nothing but infuriate him even more.
“Did you fuck him?” he yells loud enough to echo around the dance studio and bounce back at us from every corner.
“No!” I scream just as loudly, stretching on my tiptoes to get in his face. I poke him in the chest. “No, you asshole. I was still thinking about how much I wanted you. You better believe I’ll fuck him now though,” I hiss as I spin on my heels and stalk away.
I don’t even flinch when I hear him roar “Fuuuuuuuuck,” followed by the tinkling of glass as he puts his fist through what I’m guessing is my mirrored wall.