Caged

by Lorelei James

  Maddox caught Deacon in the hallway. “That throwdown is gonna come back and bite you in the ass.”

  “Good.”

  “You going to the after-party?”

  “Not on your fucking life. Had enough of fighters, promoters, trainers, and fans for one night.”

  • • •

  WHEN Deacon walked into the locker room, he headed straight for Molly. He pulled her body against his and took her mouth in a kiss that left no question how he felt about her.

  True fucking love. Body, heart, soul.

  And he didn’t give a good goddamn who knew it.

  As he continued to kiss her, falling deeper into the place where urgency met peace, she forcibly ripped her mouth free from his.

  “Dammit, Deacon. Quit mauling me. We are not alone,” she whispered.

  He looked over his shoulder. Beck and Fisher both smirked at him. “Beat it,” he said, and turned back to Molly, stalking her until her spine hit the locker bay.

  “You’re welcome for us keeping an eye on your girlfriend,” Fisher said, making kissing noises as he passed by.

  Beck clapped him on the back. “See you next week.”

  “Lock the door behind you.”

  “Deacon!”

  Beck laughed and said, “Will do.”

  “If you keep everyone from coming in here for the next fifteen minutes, I’ll sign over my Jiggles VIP pass to you for the rest of the year.”

  “Done.” The door slammed.

  Molly was gaping at him.

  “Like you didn’t know I was gonna fuck you as soon as possible.” He dropped his mouth to her neck and sucked. “Fighting makes me horny, babe. Winning a fight? So much adrenaline pumps through me for hours afterward that I can probably go all damn night.”

  “Probably?”

  “Let’s get the first time outta the way now.”

  “And once again he fucks me against a door,” she deadpanned.

  “Is that a challenge?” he said, after he slipped the last button free on her blouse.

  “So what if it is?” she whispered in his ear.

  “I’d say I’ll take it. And it’s time you fulfill one of my fantasies.”

  She went still. “I’m not up for a surprise ass-fucking in a boy’s locker room. That’s a little too, ‘Hey, bend over for the soap and squeal like a pig’ clichéd for my liking.”

  “Christ, woman. The shit you say sometimes.” Deacon groaned. “I’m not gonna fuck you in the ass tonight, especially not after that visual. And that ain’t even close to one of my fantasies.”

  “Oh.” She slid her hands under his hoodie. “What’s your fantasy?”

  “Turn around and strip.”

  She hesitated.

  He curled his hand beneath her jaw. “I’m on edge. I need to fuck you. It’s like a . . . compulsion. I can’t move beyond that, and I don’t even wanna try. I need that release. I need you.” He closed his eyes. “Please. Give me this.”

  “I’m yours, Deacon. I’ll give you whatever you want.” She paused, and her lips met his. “Because I love you.”

  His eyes flew open.

  “I know you’ll want me to say it again, so I will. I love you. With my heart and soul. With my entire being down to my bones. I’ve been trying to find the perfect time to say it to you. So it’s not very romantic, saying it in a stinky locker room—”

  “It’s fucking perfect.” With the storm rising inside him, his answering kiss was surprisingly gentle. Then he said, “I need you to strip really fucking fast now.”

  He ripped off his clothes and set his supplies on the bench.

  When he saw Molly had completely bared herself to him, he moved in behind her, pressing his chest to her back. “My beautiful Molly.”

  She grabbed his wandering hands and placed them on her tits.

  “Come here. Let’s have some kinky fun.” After kissing the back of her neck until gooseflesh broke out and she started to squirm, he pulled her over to the portable heavy bag. He draped the towel around his neck and picked up the cloth jump rope from the bench. “Wrists together.”

  “You weren’t kidding about kinky fun.”

  “I never kid about that.” Deacon looped the rope around her wrists in a hojojutsu quick tie. “Hands above your head.”

  Molly watched him with lust-filled eyes as he tied the rope around the chain holding the heavy bag so the chain bore her body weight and not her wrists. Her pulse beat erratically in her throat. Her chest rose and fell with her rapid breathing. And she kept licking her lips—a sure sign this fantasy of his turned her on as much as it did him.

  With her back against the canvas, he lifted her left leg and wrapped it around his hip. His hands were shaking so fucking hard, it took an extra moment for him to get his cock lined up.

  So when his fingers connected with the creamy wetness between her thighs, he groaned and rested his damp forehead on her breast. “Fuck, woman. I can’t . . .” Breathe. Calm down. Find control.

  “It’s okay. Release the beast. He won tonight. He should get to celebrate.”

  “However he wants to take you?” he asked with some skepticism.

  “Yes.”

  The beast roared.

  Deacon clamped his hands on the backs of her thighs and lifted her. Then he spun her around so she faced the heavy bag.

  She immediately squeezed her legs around it and wiggled frantically. “I can’t hold on—”

  “Babe, stop fighting. Let the chain hold you on the top. I’ve got your bottom.” He slipped the towel between her pussy and the canvas. Then he bent his knees and impaled her in one vicious thrust.

  Molly gasped.

  Deacon attacked the nape of her neck and the slope of her shoulders while he fucked her without pause. He bit, sucked, and kissed every inch of her skin from her hairline to the center of her spine.

  Sweat poured from him, and he fought for breath—he exerted more energy fucking her than he had during the fight. He rocked his hips up hard on every thrust, pushing her clit into the towel. Faster and faster until she started to thrash and whimper.

  “Please, Deacon.”

  He found the spot that sent her into orbit and scraped his teeth over it. When he felt her cunt muscles tightening, he sank his teeth in.

  Molly bucked wildly, forcing him to dig his fingertips into her legs to keep her from dislodging his cock as she came violently.

  He eased up when her climax abated, but he knew he’d left bruises.

  Good. They’ll match the bite and suck marks on her back, the beast snarled.

  A few more brutal thrusts and Deacon reached the end of the climb. Despite the frenzied need of the beast and the insatiable way they’d fucked, Deacon came in utter stillness. His cock jerked against those hot pussy walls, while her contractions milked his orgasm, his mouth open, his breath stalled as he heard her whispering, “I love you, I love you, I love you,” until he was completely spent.

  It was the single most perfect moment of his life.

  But when the harsh pants of pleasure faded, he pulled back in his mind, as guilt of his animalistic treatment of her began to assert itself. He pulled back in body, keeping his eyes closed against the evidence of his mindless passion and thoughtless treatment of the woman who meant everything to him.

  “Don’t,” she said softy, bringing his attention back to her. “Don’t apologize. Don’t feel guilty. I love you. All of you. I wanted this, Deacon. I wanted you. Please don’t take anything away from this.”

  He lowered her legs to the floor.

  Molly spun around on her own as he unhooked her hands.

  “Look at me.”

  Their eyes met. What he saw there . . . love shining in her eyes . . . that was the perfect moment.

  Molly stood on tiptoe to fasten her mouth to his. With every sweeping stroke of her tongue, every teasing glide of her lips, she gave him—and the beast—peace, approval, and acceptance.

  That was worth more than any fight he’d ever
win.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  DEACON’S dad had called an hour after the intense locker-room rendezvous. Deacon had still been high on that, lazily sated, as they drove to his apartment. So he’d answered his cell phone without conscious thought. Then, after Deacon told his dad he’d won the fight—his father must’ve sensed his son’s distraction—he’d issued an invite to Texas to both of them to celebrate and Deacon had agreed to fly down. But Molly knew Deacon would’ve said anything to get his dad off the phone.

  Once they were inside the apartment, they’d lost themselves in each other for the next twelve hours. The world outside Deacon’s bedroom ceased to exist.

  So Deacon hadn’t realized the implications of what he’d agreed to until the next morning. His father had called again to confirm a family dinner on Thursday night. Then Tag had called an hour later. They’d had a cryptic conversation about contracts, buyouts, investment portfolios and mergers that she’d tried not to listen in on. Deacon ended the call, swearing he wasn’t backing out this time and he’d be there.

  He’d booked the tickets, she’d overpacked, and now here they were.

  In Texas.

  After checking into the hotel, Molly started to get ready to meet Deacon’s family. She smoothed her hands over her hair and checked her appearance. The fawn-brown dress might be too fallish for the middle of summer, but she always felt confident in it. The fabric hung perfectly, not too clingy, not too loose. The wide tweed belt cinched at the waist created an hourglass shape.

  As she applied the last coat of mascara, she saw Deacon leaning in the doorjamb, his face unreadable.

  “You ready yet?”

  “I’m sorry I’m taking so long. I’m nervous.”

  “Darlin’, you got no reason for nerves.”

  “But this is a big step for me to meet your family.” She reached for a tube of peach lipstick.

  He sauntered forward. “You’re wearing your hair like that?”

  Molly’s eyes met his in the bathroom mirror. Then she gave his usual—and far too casual for a formal family dinner—sleeveless T-shirt and jeans a pointed look. “Since when do you care about my clothing or how I wear my hair?”

  Deacon grabbed the section of loose curls hanging to the top of her right breast and swept it back over her shoulder. “When it’s up, I can do this whenever I want.” He placed an openmouthed kiss behind her ear. “And you know how much I love pulling your hair, because, babe, it gets you so freakin’ hot.”

  Gooseflesh had erupted at the first touch of his warm mouth to her skin. “Deacon, stop molesting me or we’ll be late.”

  “Don’t care.” His soft exhale made the fine hair on the back of her neck stand up. “You smell so fucking sweet, my Molly.”

  She went gooey-kneed when he called her my Molly. It took a ton of willpower to shift away from him, but she did. “I need a few more minutes. Alone,” she stressed. “Then we can go.”

  Deacon gifted her with one last love bite before he exited the bathroom.

  She pressed her hands flat against the counter and leaned forward to level her breathing. The man could rile her up in no time. She didn’t need to look like she’d been well fucked—or worse, horny as fuck—when meeting his parents for the first time.

  Breathe. You can do this.

  She swiped deodorant under her arms, hoping to hide her nervous sweat.

  When she walked into the hallway between the living area and the bedroom of the hotel suite, she saw Deacon staring out the window with his back to her. He was on the phone. “Not what I needed to hear, Maddox. No. Fuck that. We did this song-and-dance bullshit last weekend. They know what my fucking terms are.” He paused and braced his hand against the window. “Fighting for a living ain’t my only option. Make sure that’s understood.” He went silent as Maddox spoke. Then he said, “That’s why I’m here. I’ll listen to what they have to say. I’m not making any decisions without discussing it with—”

  Evidently Maddox had cut him off. Molly wasn’t sure any of this conversation was for her ears—but what had Deacon meant when he’d said fighting for a living ain’t my only option? Had his family offered him another job? Who would he discuss the decision with?

  Highly unlikely it’s you.

  Annoyed by that thought, she slammed the door to announce her arrival before she returned to the living room suite.

  Deacon had turned around to face her. “Look, I gotta go. Yeah.” He scowled. “Whoa. I didn’t ask to hear about your stupid love life, Mad.” He waited as Maddox explained. Then, “Dude, seriously? Hasn’t your monthly pass to bang town with Grandma Moses expired yet? Uh-huh. Well, you stick your nose into my personal business all the damn time, so here’s my advice, asswipe. Cut her loose. ASAP. Later.”

  Molly raised an eyebrow after Deacon hung up. “Bang town? Do I even want to know?”

  “Babe, I didn’t want to know, but that didn’t matter, because he blathered on about it anyway. What is it with people sharing shit like that with me? Like I’m suddenly Dr. Love or something.”

  Molly bit back a smile. “What’s going on?”

  “Maddox is fucking this woman named Alicia, who is fifteen years older than him. She’s got hard-core insecurity issues, and she’s as psycho as his ex-wife. Dude has the worst taste in women. Anyway, the last thing he needed was her showing up in LA.”

  “I didn’t see him with anyone besides Presley. Was she at any of the events?”

  “No. She didn’t get a pass and she was pissed off about it. Big, ugly fucking scene.” His eyes narrowed. “Presley didn’t tell you about it?”

  “Presley and I don’t tell each other everything.”

  “Thank fuck for that. Anyway, I saw Maddox and Presley sucking face. So did Alicia. I figured it was part of that PR thing you guys came up with to stick it to his ex.”

  Come to think of it, both Presley and Maddox had acted weird on the way back to Denver. But asking Deacon to further speculate what might’ve happened . . . He hated gossip.

  Deacon stalked forward and grabbed her hand. “Let’s go. The faster we get this over with, the quicker we can come back here and make up for lost time.”

  “What lost time?” she said as he towed her out of the hotel room.

  He poked the down button at the elevator before he crowded her against the wall. “The alone time we’re losing in our hotel room with all furniture I wanna spread you out on and bend you over.”

  Liquid heat flowed from the burning brand of his lips on her neck in a straight line between her legs.

  The elevator dinged and the doors slid open.

  She set her hands on his pecs and pushed him. “We’ll pick this up later.”

  He kept a hand on her in the elevator. And in the rental car. The tension she expected from him was strangely absent. Rather than ask why he wasn’t wound tight, she tried to mimic his “it’s cool” attitude. She’d started to congratulate herself on handling her nerves so well when they pulled up to what looked like a security checkpoint outside a residential area.

  Deacon rolled down the window.

  “ID please,” the guard said.

  He pulled out his wallet and passed over his driver’s license. “We’re guests of the Westermans.”

  The guard scrutinized his ID. “You’ve been here before?”

  “Only twice.”

  That surprised her.

  “You know where you’re going, then. Have a good evening, Mr. McConnell.”