Blood & Bones: Deacon (Blood Fury MC Book 4)

by Jeanne St. James

  When she had joined him a half hour ago, she came outside wearing a loose, wide-necked sweatshirt that hung off one slender bare shoulder. Which confirmed the fact she had gotten rid of her bra at the same time as the rest of her dress clothes. She had pulled on some sort of loose cotton pants, maybe pajama bottoms, but he couldn’t tell with the lack of light. She had folded her long legs and tucked her bare feet beneath her when she curled up on the lounge chair next to his.

  She hadn’t said a word. Not a damn one. She simply came out and settled in with her big-assed wine glass.

  He assumed she hadn’t had a good day, so he had said nothing for a while to let her unwind, but he wanted to give her an update before she went inside and shut him out.

  “What is it?” She sounded drained. Like she didn’t have much energy left to deal with anything besides closing her eyes and going to sleep.

  He glanced at his phone. It was only eight. “Your sister voiced her opinion about just hidin’ away in my place and havin’ nothin’ to do.”

  “Sounds like her.”

  “’Cause of that, we found her somethin’ to do.” Or at least Judge had and reported back to Deacon with the details.

  She didn’t say anything for a few seconds. Maybe she was just waiting for him to explain. So, he did.

  “My cousin, Judge, is our club’s Sergeant at Arms—”

  “What’s that?”

  “He enforces the club rules and by-laws. Also is in charge of makin’ sure we all don’t get our throats sliced in the middle of the night.”

  “What?”

  “Kiddin’.” But not really. He couldn’t tell her that and have her worry about her sister more than she already was. “Anyway, he wants one or two of my brothers—”

  “You have brothers?”

  “Yeah. A bunch. Not blood, but family just the same.”

  “They belong to your club.”

  “Yeah. Anyway, he wants one or two of our brothers with Reilly twenty-four seven.”

  “I’m willing to pay them for their time, if necessary.”

  “That ain’t what this is about, Reese. Let me get this shit out and then you can say whatever you gotta say.”

  She stared at him. He stared back and tilted his head.

  She blew out a loud breath and gave him a nod. He continued, “Got a brother who owns a garage. Got four other brothers, besides him, who work there, too. Judge gave Reilly the option to spend her days there helpin’ out. Believe me, the office needs a woman’s touch bad and hasn’t been organized since Dutch’s ol’ lady left him a couple decades ago. It’s a win-win situation. Reilly makes a little scratch helpin’ out and will have five of my brothers watchin’ her durin’ the day. One or two others will watch her at night at my place.”

  “Are you sure she’ll be safe working there?”

  “Nobody knows her in—” he caught himself before he mentioned Manning Grove, “the town we live in. Judge asked her to make sure she had no connections there. Not only that, she’s gonna use a fake name when she’s dealin’ with any customers. Ain’t gonna be a lot of money, but it’ll put somethin’ in her pocket. And somethin’s better than nothin’,” he quoted Trip’s favorite saying. “Somebody will be with her at all times, which is the most important part.”

  He shut up and waited for her reaction.

  She lifted and drained her wine glass. When she was done, she put it down on the table to her left and turned her head to where he sat at her right.

  His eyebrows shot up when she pointed at the makeshift ashtray he’d formed out of a piece of used aluminum foil he found in the trash.

  “Are you going to light that?”

  He lifted his gaze from the fatty that balanced on the edge of the foil to her. “I can wait ‘til you go inside, if it’s gonna bother you.”

  She shook her head. “Light it.”

  He normally didn’t take orders from a woman. But that was one he’d willingly follow.

  She must’ve had a really fucked up day.

  He slipped his Zippo from the front pocket of his jeans, snagged the joint, tucked it between his lips and lit it.

  Before he was even done taking his first full inhale, she leaned over, yanked it from his lips and did several little delicate puffs on the end of it.

  He grinned. “You ever smoke before?”

  “A long time ago,” she got out between a few coughs. Before she was even done choking, she was sucking on the end so hard, his dick began to pay attention. She fought the cough this time while holding it deep within her lungs before blowing it out so fast it was like she was trying to blow out birthday candles. She dropped her head and hacked a couple more times.

  He did his best not to chuckle.

  She pressed a hand to her chest, emphasizing the fact she wore no bra. “That stuff burns.”

  “That shit’s smooth. High grade Kush. You’re just not used to smokin’. Smoke a bowl of stems and seeds, then tell me what fuckin’ burns.”

  She took one more hit, managed not to cough at all, and handed it back to him before stretching out on the lounger. Looking a little more relaxed.

  “Feel better?” he asked, releasing the smoke from his own lungs.

  “Not yet.” She held out her hand.

  “How long’s it been?”

  “I don’t know. Since I was fifteen or sixteen, maybe? So, almost twenty years?” She was almost thirty-five, which was about three years older than him. If he hadn’t looked it up himself, he never would’ve guessed it.

  “Before you hit the bud again, why don’t you wait to see how hard the bud hits you first.”

  “Then save some for me.”

  “Got plenty,” he said, amused, but pinched the end out and placed the joint back on his homemade ashtray.

  She smacked her lips. “Now I need something to drink.”

  “Maybe you shouldn’t have downed that wine so fast.”

  She cocked an eyebrow at him. “Are you judging me?”

  He lifted up a palm in surrender and shook his head. “Nope. You wanna get plastered, get plastered. I’ll make sure you get inside and to bed if you do.”

  “That’s nice of you,” she mumbled.

  He snorted. “Yeah, I’m a complete fuckin’ gentleman.”

  “I should’ve brought the bottle out with me,” she muttered, picking up her empty wine glass, sticking out her tongue and turning it upside down to catch the last couple of drips.

  Jesus fuck.

  She smacked her lips again and he groaned, imagining her making those sounds as she sucked his dick.

  He surged from his seat, making Justice jump up in surprise and look around for a threat. “Gonna grab it for you.” He rushed toward the door, ordering Justice to stay outside with Reese, and went inside.

  He located the half empty bottle on the counter, snagged it and before he went back out on the deck, he adjusted himself. He stepped outside and, as she held out her glass, he dumped the remaining wine into it, causing a little to splash on her hand.

  She licked it off and he smothered his groan.

  If a bottle of wine and a couple of hits off a joint didn’t disintegrate the stick up her ass, nothing would.

  “Good?” he asked, because he was not good with wanting a woman who didn’t want him.

  “Perfect,” she murmured, taking a sip, then leaning back in her chair and releasing a long, loud sigh.

  He went back to his, settled in it and Justice came over for ear scratches. He obliged because he never denied his dog. His fingers rubbed his soft ears and Jussie let out a groan and his eyes became narrow slits.

  “I never had a dog.”

  “Yeah? Best thing I ever did. Had a Doberman who died of old age. My life felt empty without one, so spotted an ad about a litter of American Bulldogs. Did a bit of research on the breed, decided they were for me. I didn’t pick Jussie, he picked me. And Jury wouldn’t leave Judge alone, so he got suckered into takin’ her home, too.”

  “Y
ou said Judge is your cousin.”

  “Yeah, but more like a brother. Not only ‘cause we belong to the same brotherhood and are partners in business, but ‘cause he and his sister moved in with my family when they were younger.”

  He could feel her eyes on him, even though he was staring straight out into the dark woods in front of the deck.

  “Did their parents die?”

  “Their pop did, yeah. In prison. Long story short, they both got busted. Ox was killed in the joint while doin’ life.”

  “Life?”

  “Yeah. For murder.”

  “Damn,” she whispered. “What about their mother?”

  “She got out a while ago. They want nothin’ to do with her.”

  “Really?”

  “Trixie encouraged Ox to use Jemma as a shield when the pigs stormed the house. She was only five at the time.”

  Reese sucked in a sharp breath.

  “Judge never forgave her. He heard she went back to prison, but he didn’t care enough to find out why or where.”

  “Sounds like great parents.”

  “Yeah, well...” He avoided mentioning the part where Ox had been the Sergeant at Arms for the Blood Fury MC at the time and was violent as fuck. She already wasn’t thrilled about Reilly being with his brothers. He didn’t want her thinking his club was the same as it was back in the day before the Fury imploded.

  She took another sip of wine. “Judge runs the business with you. What does Jemma do?”

  “She’s an RN.”

  “Good for her. Just because we start out from shitty beginnings doesn’t mean we need to stay there. I tried to instill that into Reilly.”

  Wait. What?

  He guessed the wine and pot was loosening up more than the stick up her ass.

  She had said she put her sister through college. She put herself through school, too. She drove a newer BMW and had a house worth a nice chunk of change. He’d been nosy and found what it was worth online. She also had her own law firm, even if it was only her and two employees. Something else he had looked up online.

  In fact, he’d scoured the internet for everything he could find on Reese Porter Ackerson.

  It hadn’t been much. Almost as if the internet had been scrubbed of any info on her besides her firm’s public website and some info on her being a graduate and alumni of Villanova University’s Charles Widger School of Law.

  The woman was doing well in life. Usually it was easier to do when coming from a background where opportunities were plentiful and within reach. It was much fucking harder when starting with nothing and having to scratch and crawl up the ladder to success.

  For fuck’s sake, while she had judged him by the way he looked, he was guilty of doing the same shit. Because of her current status, he had assumed she had come from a well-off family. But her little admission proved she hadn’t.

  Even though he didn’t know the details yet, he understood her need for control and even her need to control Reilly’s life. She most likely had protected and taken care of her younger sister, just like Judge had done with Jemma.

  He now got it.

  But he wanted to know more about the woman who came from “shitty beginnings” and what drove her to scrape that shit off.

  He waited to see if she’d spill any details but she didn’t. Instead, she nursed the wine she had a tight grip on.

  By now, between the Kush and the fermented grapes, she should be mellow as fuck. Most likely ready to crash in that big bed of hers.

  She sat up and moved to the edge of the lounger, facing him. Just studying him. Her mouth opened and he waited...

  “I want...” She released a breath and her mouth slowly closed again.

  What? What the fuck did she want? More wine? Another hit on the joint? His beard between her thighs?

  He had this strange need to give her whatever she wanted, whatever she asked for. He glanced down at the blunt. Had it been tainted or something?

  Since when did he want to cater to a woman?

  Since never. That was when.

  Maybe this woman was more intoxicating than any premium Kush.

  Fuck. She was staring at his lips. Like she had the munchies and she wanted to snack on them.

  Was she drunk? Did she even realize what she was doing? Because his dick sure did.

  “You have really nice lips.”

  He grinned, though he was unsure where she was going with this.

  “A nice smile, too.”

  His grin widened.

  “It’s sort of sexy.”

  Sort of? He’d have to disagree with that.

  “Bet women just fall into bed with you when you direct it their way.”

  It was one of a few weapons in his arsenal, but... “You didn’t.”

  “You swear you didn’t know who I was that first night?” Her words weren’t slurred, so that was a good sign she wasn’t trashed. Yet.

  “Had no idea. Just spotted a beautiful, confident woman struttin’ across the bar. Now that’s fuckin’ sexy.” His way with words was another weapon to charm the ladies.

  “And you were confident enough to approach.”

  “Can’t get a yes, if you ain’t willin’ to risk a no.”

  “Did you really think I’d say yes to a one-night-stand with you?”

  He never said anything about a one-night-stand. Though, he had to start somewhere. And, usually, one night was enough.

  When she stood, disappointment pulled at him. He wasn’t ready to end the night. He’d liked the easy conversation they’d been having. He had taken it as a good sign when she had willingly joined him without a stun gun in her hand.

  His eyes went wide when she didn’t head toward the door but toward him instead. She didn’t pause next to his chair.

  Fuck. No. She. Didn’t.

  She fucking climbed onto it instead and straddled his lap.

  Straddled his fucking lap.

  Even through his jeans, he could feel her heat against his dick, which twitched in response. Deacon was pretty sure that response was a resounding, “Fuck yeah!”

  As she wrapped one arm around his neck, he began to ask what the fuck she was doing, but she sealed her mouth over his, muffling his question and capturing his moan. Her fingers dug into the top of his braid, not only pulling his scalp but keeping him right where she wanted him.

  Not that he was resisting.

  Hell no, his momma didn’t raise no fool.

  She tasted like white wine and quality weed as he snaked one arm around her waist, pulling her into him. Her tits brushed against his chest as her tongue swept through his mouth and then disappeared. He chased it, exploring hers instead.

  The grip on his hair got tighter and more painful, but she wasn’t pulling him away. The fingernails from her other hand scored the back of his neck, making his balls tighten and his dick even harder.

  She ground against his lap, riding his erection, her hips rocking faster and faster.

  Fuck, if she didn’t stop, he was going to blow his load right in his jeans. He cupped her tit over the soft material of her sweatshirt, thumbing one hard tip.

  He deepened the kiss and their tongues clashed.

  He was glad he was wearing his boxer briefs, otherwise with the intensity she was moving, he’d have brush burn on his dick from the denim being driven against it.

  He wanted her naked, but while he knew what she was doing, he wasn’t sure why she was doing it.

  Her arm tightened around his neck and she arched her back as she ground against him even harder, a whimper climbing up her throat and then sliding down his.

  Or that might have been him whimpering. He wasn’t sure.

  Nor did he care.

  What he cared about was he was on that very edge of exploding after she clearly just worked herself into an orgasm by using him as a tool. A very stiff one.

  When her muscles finally loosened, she pulled away and her warm breath swept over his lips in a contented sigh.

&nbs
p; At least somebody was fucking satisfied.

  However, his current dilemma was, one wrong move and he’d need to borrow her washer and dryer.

  She loosened her fingers from his braid and leaned back slightly. “Just as I thought. You know how to kiss.”

  Uh. That wasn’t just a kiss. His dick was crying for relief right now as she wore a lazy fucking smile from using him to get off.

  Like a piece of meat.

  Huh.

  She rubbed at her cheek. “Your lips are soft, but your beard is really scratchy.”

  “You don’t fuckin’ say,” he forced between gritted teeth as he willed the pressure in his groin to lessen.

  She planted a bare foot onto the deck like she was about to dismount.

  Oh fuck no. “That’s it? You’re just gonna use me like that?”

  She paused. “It was just a kiss.”

  Tell that to his dick. “That was it, huh? Just a kiss?”

  She shrugged, the sweatshirt sliding down even lower on her shoulder, exposing the upper curve of one tit. She continued to climb off of him.

  He had two options.

  Fuck. He had one option. Let her go. He wasn’t going to force himself on someone who didn’t want him. Who only wanted to dry hump his damn dick.

  That was all he was good for.

  Surging from his seat, he lunged for her, snagging her arm and stopping her.

  Okay, he was back to two options. He was liking the second one better than the first. Even though he wasn’t so sure she’d like it. But if she didn’t, she wasn’t the kind of woman who wouldn’t be vocal about it.

  But the fuck if he was just going to be used, then tossed aside.

  “No,” he growled. “That ain’t fuckin’ it.”

  With a jerk to her arm, he pulled her into him, their bodies slamming together. He released her arm, but before he gave her a chance to escape, he captured her face within his hands and took her mouth.

  Her hand found his chest and he expected her to shove him away, but she didn’t. She fisted his T-shirt instead, firmly enough he thought she might tear it.

  But it would be worth it, because she had every opportunity to shove him away, to bite his lip or tongue, instead of returning the kiss. Or voice her objection.

  She didn’t.

  Chapter Nine