by Anthology
She’d become his air when he wasn’t looking.
“C’mon, Romeo.”
Deacon broke the kiss with a smile into her lips. “For luck.”
Harper smiled back at him before opening those summer sky blue eyes. “I love you, big guy.”
“Get moving.” Simon shoved him onto the stage.
“Wait, what?” Deacon’s breath stalled in his chest. “What did you say?”
Harper stood on the sidelines grinning like an idiot.
Deacon laughed, and they all piled out into the shining light of the Palladium, and then nothing else mattered. Riding the high of being there, and Harper finally saying the words he never thought he’d hear, he smiled and screamed a “Wooohoo!” into the mic.
Five thousand screaming fans packed the floor and the rafters. Flashbulbs popped, glittering off the art deco chandeliers that hovered over the ballroom. And with Jazz’s steady beat they launched into their first song of the night.
And it was perfection.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
September 15, 10:58 PM – Need
Deacon teased the edges of her panties. Lace and cotton hugged the warm sweetness of her. He leaned forward, tracing his mouth along her jaw before switching hands. He wrapped his left arm around the bucket seat and skimmed his other hand into the shadowed crease under her cargo shorts. “Again.”
She bit her lip. “Again? Didn’t you just kill me in your dressing room?”
“Say it again,” he growled.
Harper leaned over the console between them and framed his face, her summer sky eyes sweet and soft. “I love pancakes?”
He gripped her ponytail. “Lawless.”
Delighted she arched up and pressed her lips to his ear. “I love you, Big Guy.”
“Fuck. I’m never going to get tired of that.”
He tucked his fingertips under the elastic, groaning at the smoothness he found there. “God, how am I going to let go long enough to get you upstairs?”
“The parking guy will be—” Her voice broke as he slipped between the softness of her lips.
He slid a little further and groaned into her ear at the wetness he found. So she hadn’t been indifferent to his hand on her thigh for half the ride.
Her thigh muscles loosened as she eased off the gas and her other foot jammed in the clutch. She pulled the parking brake, turned off the car, and flung off her seatbelt in the space of a breath.
“Deacon.”
His name was barely a whisper under the growl. He peered out the window, happy to see the coast was still clear. His chest as tight as the slick core of her surrounding his fingers. “So, we’ve got the penthouse to ourselves.”
She jerked as he circled her clit. “Completely?”
“Mmm-hmm. Just you and me.”
Her blue eyes went soft in the low light of the parking garage. “God, yes.”
He slid a second finger inside of her until he was hilt-deep into her. And he wanted it to be his cock. This wasn’t enough. This cramped car and twisted fingers. He wanted her wide open to him. He wanted her screaming.
He just wanted her.
Deacon scraped his teeth over her sun-kissed shoulder as her pussy tightened around his pulsing fingers. Part of him wanted to keep going, to watch her go over here and drive her crazy enough to say those three little words again.
But a louder part of him wanted her alone and unencumbered. Wanted her where no one else could hear.
She cupped his face, her eyes searching his. “Where’d you go?”
“To my happy place.”
“Oh yeah?” She scraped his cheek lightly. “I hope it included me, since your fingers are still inside of me, buddy.”
“There’s nothing on this earth that can compare to that happy place.” He moved in until their lips touched. “And I’ve decided that I don’t want any interruptions. I think we should go inside.”
“There’s always tomorrow. We can take the car up to one of the vistas, and I can show you just what the hood of the car is good for.”
He groaned into her mouth. “I do like how you think, Miss Pruitt.” He opened his door then leaned back. “Wait there.” He shut his door on her laughter and rounded the car. He waved to the parking attendant hotfooting his way over to them. He opened her door for her and helped her out.
Harper tossed the keys to the kid and dragged him toward the front of the building. They kissed their way through the wide, glass doors and impatiently groped each other through the insufferably long elevator ride.
He pushed her out of the elevator once they got to the penthouse. He looped his arms around her waist and dragged her back against him to kiss her temple. “You always smell like sunflowers. When you’ve been cooking all day, it’s more like lemons, but mostly sunflowers.”
“Look at you, knowing my scents.” She scraped her nails over his forearms, laughter alive in her voice. “Does that mean you have to turn in your guy card?”
“No, that means I’m observant.” He crowded in on her. “And that your scent follows me around.” He buried his nose into her ponytail, then in the nape of her neck. “When I roll over in the morning and bury my face in my pillow, I get another whiff of you.”
She tipped her chin down as he trailed his lips over the column of her neck. Her low moan revved up the part of him that was always ready for her. He coasted his hands under her shirt and cupped her full breasts, tugging at the tips lightly.
The hiss of her breath made him bolder. He ground his hips into the curve of her ass and continued to pluck her nipples lightly through the lace of her bra.
“Does that feel good?”
Her head fell back against his chest restlessly. “You’re such a tease. I’ve been on edge the whole car ride.”
He flicked a thumbnail under her nipple and she gasped. With each shuddering breath he tightened the pinch.
“Harder,” she panted.
His heart slammed against his ribs. He was so close to the threshold today. These were the days he was almost afraid to touch her. That his big hands would be too clumsy or too rough. That maybe today would be the one time he forgot himself.
She was so impossibly small compared to him.
“Deacon,” she said on an insistent groan. “Harder.”
He twisted the tips. The rasp of lace over the satin softness of her nipple made his fingertips tingle. God, they’d taste amazing. But when she ground herself back on his cock, he focused on her hitching breath and the way her back arched to get more of herself into his hands.
Flipping her shirt up so he could see the pale pink lace only made things worse. Her nipples were already the blush pink that only happened when he sucked on them strongly.
Was she as wound up as he was?
Would her nipples darken even more?
He dragged the lace down until it was tucked under each nipple so they stood taut and tight. He blew gently on them and watched blood darken them another shade.
She dug her nails into his outer thighs. “Fuck.”
He grinned against her temple at the hard k of the word on her lips. She didn’t swear all that often, so when it came out, he paid attention. He lifted her hand to his mouth and sucked on her thumb until her nails went for blood on his thigh. Only then did he bring her thumb back to the strained tip. He blew on her wet nipple and he felt her shudder in his arms.
“Show me how you hard you want it,” he said in her ear as he helped her cup the heaviest part of her.
Instead of doing it herself, she twisted his fingers to cover her again. “Pinch.” Her voice was raw. “Until it throbs. Until I say.”
He slid one arm around her waist, slipping his fingers into the waistband of her shorts. He didn’t go any lower, just let her know he was there. When her stomach quivered under his touch, he bit back an oath.
Keep it together.
He rolled her nipple between his thumb and forefinger then tugged until it was stretched away from the fullness of her br
east. When he let go, she rolled her hips against him. “Harder.”
He pinched until he felt the throb of his own heartbeat in time with the blood rushing in his head.
“More.”
He grasped the firm flesh harder and slid his other hand lower into her shorts until he breached her panties and the tiny patch of curls above her slit.
“Are you wet, Harper?”
“Reach a little farther and find out.” She tipped her hips so that his first two fingers slid forward into silky bliss.
“God,” he groaned.
Her hand came up over his on her nipple. He looked down to see a raspberry red nipple between both their splayed fingers now. He captured it between his forefinger and middle finger in a relentless rhythm until her moans filled the room. Until he couldn’t take the sound anymore without touching more of her.
Turning her toward the couch, he hustled her away from the hallway. He glanced at the stairs, but walking up those stairs seemed like it would take too much time.
Right now, there was nothing but the endgame. Nothing but getting inside of her.
He dipped his fingers between her lips again and swore. She was so ready for him. “You’re soaked.”
“Quit talking about it and show me what you’re going to do about it.” She reached for the back of the couch, pushing pillows out of her way. He looked down at the huge sectional couch. Stretch her out or fuck her from behind?
She made the decision for him by kneeling on the wide cushion. “Deacon.” She trapped his hand inside her shorts as she looked over her shoulder.
“Are you sure?”
“Hard,” she said with a nod.
He pulled his hand out of her cargos and flicked the button open, dragging them over her ass and down her legs. He crouched behind her. The scent of her arousal knocked him back on his heels.
“Fuck. Baby, your thighs are soaked.”
She swayed at his words. He cupped her hips, using his thumbs to spread her wide open.
Her pussy contracted and his cock throbbed against his zipper. He wanted to take his time and taste her from behind. To let all those juices coat his chin and throat, but the black abyss was way too close.
He couldn’t trust that he’d take care of her. Not when the only thing he could think of was getting inside of her. Of slamming inside of her until he could breathe again.
He stood and pressed his cheek to her back. “I just need a minute.”
“No.” She reached back, cupping his cock. “I want you like this. I want this, Deacon. I need you like this. Don’t hold back.”
“I—” He growled when she palmed his shaft, curling her fingers around his balls through his jeans. The denim rubbed against him, a lick of pain permeating the pleasure until he couldn’t find his way around either one.
He ripped at his zipper and lifted her until her back arched and her ass was angled up to take him. He gripped the back of her neck, pushing her into the back of the couch. He moved her hands until she wrapped them around the ledge that remained now that the pillows were gone. “Do not let go.”
She growled his name and fuzzed his brain. He guided the head of his cock along her swollen lips. She coated his head, luring him deeper. And the part of him that held the reins of control was swallowed by the inky blackness.
He surged inside of her, kicking her legs further apart as he held her still. He drove into her until the adrenaline from the show and the riot of emotions she brought out in him was satisfied with her more than willing body.
Separate from his body, he heard her cries and prayed they were of pleasure because nothing made sense except the clasp of her drenched pussy. He held onto her hips, watching his cock disappear into her perfect body.
Sweat coated her, slicked off of him in waves and still he couldn’t stop. He angled her ass so he could power into her. His thighs screamed at the effort, his ass muscles cramping with each thrust.
He reached around her and slid his fingers through her dripping curls until he found her engorged clit and circled it ruthlessly. He felt her flex and heard her answering cries as she came hard around him. And still it wasn’t enough.
He needed more.
He switched hands and brought his coated fingers to the puckered flesh just above where his cock hammered inside of her. He rimmed the tip of his thumb around the tight opening.
She arched and hissed.
“Harper,” he said on a bass tone that didn’t sound like his voice. Knowing he was even closer to the edge than ever before, he gentled his touch but she wiggled back into the pressure of his thumb then her thighs shook.
Her head went up and she cried out his name. He looked up and saw where her head was pointed. A huge mirror framed them from across the living room. Harper’s breasts bounced with each thrust, her eyes were dilated and wide, her teeth sawing through her full lower lip.
And that’s all it took to break the trance. Finally, his body and his mind seemed to reconnect, and it felt like acid raced down his spine and pooled at the base. Burning, straining, needing her so fucking bad that the entire room faded until it was only Harper.
Just Harper.
His Harper.
His.
He drove into her welcoming body. Until he couldn’t bear the thought of leaving. Lust and unspeakable satisfaction rolled over him, tucking him under into the peace he only found with her.
And as she clamped around him, he held her as close to him as possible, finally coming inside of her. His fingers shook at her hips as he surrounded her. His cock wrung dry, his brain utterly empty. He gathered her into him, unwilling to pull out of her.
She collapsed in on herself, hugging her knees as she pressed her forehead into the couch cushion.
Words seemed irrelevant at that moment. With effort, he pulled out of her warm body. Already, his mind screamed to get back inside of her warmth and to regain that solace, but the practical side of him saw how crumpled she was.
He’d fucked her blind on the couch in the middle of the living area.
Christ.
He scooped her up in his arms, stepping over their clothes to the stairs. She looped an arm around his neck and turned her face into his neck. When he got to the top of the stairs he stopped. “Harper?”
“Hmm?” She sighed into his throat.
“I didn’t hurt you, right?”
She palmed the back of his head and dragged him down to her face. “I love when you’re like that. I love all the different sides of you, Deacon.”
He smiled into her mouth. She’d said it again without prompting. Fuck, he loved this woman.
She pressed her forehead to his. “I don’t know how I managed to fall in love with such a maddening man, but I did.”
He crushed his mouth to hers. “Best fucking day ever.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
September 20, 10:16 PM - Truce
Deacon opened the door for Harper. “I can get used to you playing chauffeur.”
She took his hand. “You just like to critique my driving.”
“This is true.” He leaned down and kissed her softly. “You are going to make me fend off many a male tonight.” Her hair was a sleek curtain of gold down her back. She wore a purple button down top in some sort of slinky material that drew the eye to her curves. Black jeans and little flats kept her from looking like she was going out to a club. But the effect was no less gut punching.
She laughed and curled her arm around his back. “I think that’s my problem, pal. Everywhere we go some woman is trying to climb over me to get to you.”
Deacon snorted. “We’ve only been out of the house once in the last week.” Okay, so their outing to the grocery store earlier in the week had been a little hairy. Thank God for the valet service at the penthouse.
“I’m never going to get that chunk of hair back.”
“She wasn’t that—” He shut up at her look. Okay, so the fan had been a little zealous. Ever since they’d played two of the major venues i
n L.A., things had been a bit crazier for them. Simon came home with scratches and numbers stuffed in every available pocket every time he went out. Nick had started wearing disguises.
Jazz had even taken to leaving the house without her usual colorful hair and clothes, just to get a reprieve. And Gray had disappeared altogether. Deacon had no idea where he was most of the time.
He hustled them both across the street to “The Den.” A line of people curled around the edge of the building. On the small marquis, Johnny Cage’s name was in bold, black letters. He flashed the red tickets to the guy at the door and the bouncer opened the door.
“What the hell, man?”
Deacon glanced over at the belligerent fan and watched the guy’s mouth drop open. “Dude, you’re Deacon McCoy. I thought you and Johnny hated each other.”
“Don’t believe the tabloids,” Deacon said.
Five hours ago, he would have thought the same thing. But when the courier service had shown up with tickets for Johnny’s gig he’d been too curious not to check out the show.
“I didn’t know Johnny did solo shows.”
Deacon looked down at Harper. “I knew he did acoustic shows sometimes, but never alone as far as I knew.”
He’d been a fan long before Oblivion had opened for Rebel Rage. And he was a big fan of their acoustic music. In fact, he couldn’t figure out why they didn’t play a longer acoustic set for their show. There was no end to the magic that happened between the men in Johnny’s band when they stripped out the bombastic sound and simply played.
“I still can’t believe he sent you tickets.”
“Me neither, Lawless.”
A woman in unrelieved black met them at the large entry way. “May I see your tickets?”
Deacon handed her the red tickets.
“You can take your pick of seats along the balcony. There’s a stairwell just over there.” She pointed to the side of the stage.
“Thanks.” They climbed the stairs to the small balcony with a row of tables. “Here okay?”
Harper nodded and they sat down. A waitress met them and took their drink order. He looked down at the small stage with three different Gibson acoustics set beside a leather stool. No other adornments, not even a banner behind where he would sit. It was as stripped down as he’d ever seen outside of open mic nights.