Deacon's Defender

by Pandora Pine

  Deacon’s eyes widened. “Honestly, it’s the best meal I’ve ever had in my life.”

  “It’s from the Naked Fish. I’d never heard of it before, but Hennessey raved about the food.”

  “I remember Kent talking about that restaurant after he’d done a review of it. I’d been so excited over the prospect of going there, but I didn’t have anyone to go with. Finley hates fish, and I couldn’t think of anyone else special enough to go there with me.” Deacon took a sip from his champagne flute.

  That was a name I’d never heard before. Who was Finley? And why was he special enough to go out to dinner with? I followed Deacon’s lead and took a sip from my own champagne glass. It wouldn’t do to seem upset or jealous over the mention of another man’s name. “Is Finley another reporter at the paper?” I managed to ask the question and not sound like a jealous fool. I think.

  Deacon shook his head. “Finley is my best friend from Andover. We’ve known each other since high school. Never could understand how someone born and raised in New England hated fish.” Deacon shrugged.

  Thank Christ I hadn’t made a big deal about Finley. I had to keep reminding myself Deacon was an only child and didn’t have the benefit of having four brothers at his back like I did. “What does he do for a living?”

  Deacon downed the rest of his champagne. He got up from his seat and walked to the table to set the glass down. When he turned back to me, he wore that devious look on his face I was coming to love. “He works for some big ad firm in downtown Boston. I think his biggest client sells cat food or something.” Deacon slid onto my lap, setting his hands against my chest. “Do you want to spend the rest of the night hearing about mine and Finley’s boring movie nights, or do you want to do something a bit more interesting with our lips?”

  Not giving me a chance to answer, Deacon’s lips pressed against mine. In that moment, I didn’t give a fuck who Finley was. All I could concentrate on was the way Deacon was grinding his erection against mine. His hands were slowly sliding down my shoulders, stopping every so often to give my muscles a squeeze. He made the sexiest damn noises in the back of his throat when I flexed under his hands.

  “This was one hell of a date, Ozzy. I don’t know how I would ever top it.” Deacon ran his lips from the corner of my mouth up my twisted scar and back down again. I still wasn’t completely comfortable with someone else touching me like that, but I had a feeling I would get used to it in time. Deacon never saw me as being deformed or ugly because of the mark I carried from childhood. Aside from my brothers and parents, he was the only person I’d ever known who didn’t see the scar when he looked at me. That right there made him worth his weight in gold but add in the fact that he genuinely seemed to like me, and it was a God-damned miracle.

  I knew I should be talking about the arsonist. I knew I should be probing him about accelerants and three-inch carpenter nails and glue strong enough to keep a door from opening in a burning house, but I couldn’t. I’d never had this much fun in my entire life. I’d never felt this close to another man. I didn’t want to do anything to spoil this moment.

  “Here I am, kissing your lips off, and you look like you’re trying to do algebra in your head. What’s up with you?” Deacon sat back. His arms were crossed over his chest and his eyes were locked on mine, as if he thought they’d hold the answer to what was going on inside my head.

  “I’m worried about the arsonist.” My voice was barely above a whisper. What I was saying was the absolute truth, but my reason for worrying went far deeper than Deacon could ever imagine.

  “I think everyone should be worried about him. It’s obvious the only person who knows where and when he’ll strike next, is the arsonist himself.”

  I couldn’t help but notice two things. The first was that Deacon said the arsonist was a man, and the second was that he never made any mention of being afraid of the arsonist himself. Motherfucker, was I seeing trouble where it didn’t exist? Or actually picking up on real clues Deacon was dropping? “What about you? Are you scared?”

  Deacon’s chin hit his chest. When he looked back up at me, there was a distant look in his eyes. “No. Not really.”

  “I thought you just said everyone should be worried about the arsonist.” I tried to keep my suspicion from spilling into my voice, but I don’t think I succeeded.

  Deacon bristled, pulling even further back from me. I had to reach out and grab him so he wouldn’t tumble off my lap and onto the floor of the boat. “I’m not worried about the arsonist, because I have you.” His eyes turned glassy.

  As hard as I was looking for it, I didn’t see any deception in Deacon’s eyes. I pulled him close and held on for as long as he needed me to. I’d had a lot of moments in the last couple of weeks where I’d never felt like a bigger asshole, but this one took the cake.

  “I meant what I said earlier when I called you my hero. I know you’ll keep me safe, no matter what.” He sniffled against the side of my neck.

  I’d never heard that kind of blind faith from anyone before. Unfortunately, the devil sitting on my shoulder asked me if Deacon really meant it, or if it were just part of his plan to seem innocent of the crimes. I gave his shoulder a slight push so I could look into Deacon’s eyes. “I’m such an idiot. I feel like this arsonist could be anyone, like the guy next to me in the grocery checkout line, or one of the guys you work with.”

  Deacon snorted. “A couple of the reporters in the office said you had this funny, suspicious vibe about you when you walked through the rows of cubicles to get to my desk.”

  “They’re not wrong. I’m suspicious of everyone right now, with the exception of myself. I know I’m not the one setting these fires.” I was pretty sure the arsonist wasn’t my parents or my brothers, but I had no proof of that. Just like I had no proof Deacon was the one setting the fires.

  “I get it. If I were in your position, I would be suspicious of everyone too.” Deacon seemed to be back to his old self.

  “How about we get this date back on track?” I’d done my due diligence for the night. Now it was time for me to get a bit closer to my date.

  “What did you have in mind?” Deacon’s eyes darkened, while his arms tightened around my neck.

  “Hmm, I’m not sure.” I looked around and saw there was no one else on any of the boats close to us. “The sun’s gone down and we’re the only two people here. I wonder what we could do together?” I had so many ideas, but I wasn’t making a move until I knew it was what Deacon wanted.

  “I suppose we could play Go Fish, since we’re on a boat.” A mischievous grin brightened Deacon’s face.

  “I was thinking of something a little more risqué than Go Fish. How about Truth or Dare?” I had a whole lot of dirty dares playing in my head.

  “I’d be down for that.” Deacon’s blue eyes glowed in the electric candlelight. “How about you go first?”

  I could definitely do that. But where to start? “Truth or dare?” I asked, praying Deacon wanted the dare.

  “I’m not quite sure.” He shot me a devious smile. “Okay, dare!”

  Now I had Deacon right where I wanted him. “I dare you to fish my cock out of my pants.”

  “I thought you said you wanted to play something a little more risqué than Go Fish?” Without waiting for an answer, Deacon reached for the button on my jeans.

  Before I had a chance to catch my breath, my zipper was down, and he was rubbing my erection over my red briefs. It was on the tip of my tongue to tell him the dare didn’t involve giving me a hand job through my underwear, but I kept my mouth shut. A moment later, Deacon pulled my dick out. The cool sea breeze felt good, but not as heavenly as Deacon’s hand.

  “I guess it’s my turn now.” Deacon waggled his eyebrows at me. His eyes flicked down to my dick. He licked his lips seductively as if he were hoping my cock would be his dessert. “Truth or Dare?”

  “Dare!” I answered without hesitation. My dick twitched in anticipation.

  “We
ll, since you got to play Show and Tell with your dick, I dare you to invite mine to the party.” A pretty blush bloomed over Deacon’s cheeks.

  Shy men were my favorite. They blushed and stammered while their clothes were on, but once they were naked and lube was involved, they turned into tigers. I had a feeling Deacon would follow suit. “Okay, so you’re daring me to free your cock?” My hand rubbed over the bulge in his pants.

  Biting his lower lip, Deacon moaned. He nodded, his eyes glued to my hand working him over.

  I think I was just as excited to see Deacon as he was to show himself off to me. I undid his button and zipper with one hand, while my other hand continued to squeeze his bulge. His skin was red-hot when I reached into his boxer briefs to free him. Deacon jumped when I wrapped my hand around his girth and set his heated flesh free. His eyes rolled back while his hips hitched forward, forcing his dick deeper into my fist.

  Without warning, I dropped his cock. “My turn.”

  Deacon’s head snapped back. His unfocused eyes blinked several times before focusing again. “Your turn?” he asked, sounding as if he were dreaming.

  Christ, when was the last time someone touched his dick? A feeling of possession stole over me, heating my entire body. Nibbling my bottom lip, I nodded.

  “Truth or Dare?” Deacon asked, still looking a bit unsure.

  “Dare!” I declared with a predatory smile.

  Deacon swallowed hard. His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down as if it were trying to stay afloat. “I-I dare you to make me come.”

  Electricity zinged through my entire body. I felt his dare from the top of my head to the tips of my toes. “I dare you right back.” As much as I wanted my hand on his dick, I wanted his on mine just as badly.

  Wrapping my hand around his cock, I set my free hand against the side of his face. Deacon was mine and I wanted him to know I was claiming him.

  I nearly came on the spot when Deacon reciprocated. His hand was completely still against me, but the fingers felt like they were vibrating with sexual energy. He gave my dick first one then a second tentative stroke. There was no doubt he knew what he was doing. “That’s it.” It was my turn to moan and toss my head backward.

  Deacon’s hand kept pace with my own. As my hand went up, his hand came down. It was as if we were a finely tuned machine, working in perfect sync with each other. As we both came closer and closer to our end, my eyes were locked with his. I wanted to be present with him the very second his cock started spurting.

  “Fuck, Ozzy,” Deacon moaned. His free hand dug into my meaty shoulder. It was as if he were anchoring himself to me, his port in the storm. “I never knew…” Deacon shivered, whatever he’d been about to say was lost as his dick twitched in my hand.

  My own release was rapidly approaching, but I tried to stave it off just long enough to watch Deacon come undone in my arms. He didn’t disappoint. His hand tightened on my shoulder as his dick pulsed. The first burst of come landed on my shirt. My eyes never left his dick as he exploded like a volcano. Hot release coated my hand.

  Deacon moaning my name was what finally pushed me over the edge. “I’m coming!” I roared, not caring who might be around to hear me. Wave after wave of cream soaked Deacon’s shirt and his hand. I held his face tight, keeping his eyes on mine while my dick continued to empty.

  When we were both spent, Deacon shocked the hell out of me by licking my release from his hand. His little pink tongue eating my come was almost enough to get my weary dick to rise for a second time.

  In all my years of dating and fucking other men, nothing compared to this moment with Deacon. I was in trouble. Deep trouble. In more ways than one.

  20

  Deacon

  Never in my life had I come close to passing out during sex. I thought people were exaggerating when they said they’d come so hard their vision began to grey out at the sides. It was true. There had been a second or two where I’d been afraid I was going to end up a boneless heap at Ozzy’s feet. It would have been a hell of a way to go, but I had to admit I preferred being cuddled against his broad chest.

  “We should get going. It’s getting late and we both have to work tomorrow.” Ozzy set me on the seat next to him and went about putting his dick back in his pants. His shirt was stained with my drying release, but thankfully it just looked like he’d spilled something wet on himself.

  I knew I was in similar shape. Ozzy and I shared a bottle of water to wash off the rest of the come from our hands.

  Sweet baby cheeses. I’d never experienced anything as explosive as what happened between Ozzy and me. Poets talked about being able to touch the stars while they’d been in their bliss. I thought it had all been romantical nonsense, written to make women swoon and men jealous. Having sex with Ozzy changed my mind. In that critical moment, right before I lost all conscious thought, I would have sworn I could have touched the sun itself.

  “Are you ready to go?” Ozzy still looked a bit unkempt, but I actually thought he was sexier with his messy hair and his unevenly tucked shirt. When people saw him, they would know exactly what he’d been up to tonight. They would know he’d been up to those things with me. I shivered at the thought of what I’d been able to do to Ozzy.

  “I’m ready.” I wasn’t ready. Not by a long shot. I would have given anything to have stayed here, on the boat with Ozzy in this little world we had created for ourselves. I took one last look at the dinner table, the empty bottle of champagne, and the bench seat where we’d given ourselves to each other freely. I would never forget this moment, even if I live to be two hundred.

  Reaching for my hand, Ozzy helped me off the boat and back onto the dock. We walked silently back to the parking lot. He opened my door for me, like he usually did, but this time he held me back for a second to kiss me. I could taste myself on his tongue and was positive he was getting the same in return. Ozzy growled, twisting his hand in my shirt, and pulled me impossibly closer to him. Everything about his gestures shouted the word, “Mine!” In this moment, I was his, mind, body, and soul. I would take that secret to my grave, unless Ozzy confessed feeling the exact same way.

  Suddenly, he released me and helped me into the car. He shut the door softly and headed back around to his side. His slow walk gave me a few extra seconds to pull myself back together. This was only our second date. We’d engaged in a little hand to gland combat. It didn’t mean we were destined by the stars.

  “Why do you always touch my scar?” Ozzy started the car and began driving toward the main road.

  Of all the questions Ozzy could have asked me in this moment, wanting to know why I touched his scar was the least likely choice. I really didn’t know how to answer the question. Which I supposed was the answer. “To be honest with you, I don’t see your scar. It’s a part of you, just like your nose or your hands.”

  “The fucking thing stretches from my ear to my chin. How the hell can you say you don’t see it?” Ozzy sounded angry, rather than appeased.

  Not knowing if it was the right thing to do, I reached my left hand out and set it on his thigh. I knew I was going to have to come at this subject from a different angle rather than being whimsical about it. “Yes, I see the scar when I look at you. I also see those incredible dark eyes, your nose, and your dark hair. What I don’t see, is a man with a deformity.” I felt Ozzy stiffen under my hand. I knew he wasn’t going to give me much more leeway before losing his temper entirely. “I like you Ozzy. All of you. It’s not possible to have feelings for someone except for their left leg. I mean, how ridiculous would that be? I’m totally crazy about this handsome man, but that left leg, no way!”

  “Do you think you’re being cute?” Ozzy’s hands were white knuckling the steering wheel.

  “No, you ridiculous man. I’m trying to tell you that I like every single part of you. Granted, there’s one particular part of you that I like just a little bit more than the rest.” I let my commentary end there. I had so much more I wanted to say, but I had a
feeling, in this moment, less was more.

  “My father was a raging alcoholic. He promised he was done drinking one New Year’s Eve. He’d said that a hundred times before and I never believed him, but there was something about this time that I actually believed he would do it.”

  We’d talked before about his father causing the scar. I’d assumed it had been the result of him standing up for someone weaker than himself. I could never have imagined the damage was inflicted by his own father. I felt my own anger start to rise.

  “He dumped an entire bottle of expensive whiskey down the drain as proof of his intent to keep his New Year’s resolution. It only lasted for about forty-five minutes. He’d gotten so drunk in that time, he’d forgotten he was the one who dumped out the booze. We got into a physical confrontation that ended with him breaking the empty bottle and cutting my face with a jagged end.”

  In my mind’s eye, I could see it all unfold before me. I wanted to shut the vision off, but I forced myself to watch every second. With his mother dead, Ozzy had been betrayed by the only parent he had left. I was devastated for that little boy. Thank God he had landed with Mandy and David McCoy. I wanted to ask him what happened next. How he’d gotten from that moment to ending up in a family who loved him, but I couldn’t push the words past my mouth.

  “I don’t know why I’m telling you this.” Ozzy sounded almost lost.

  “I do. You’re sharing a little bit about yourself because you think the story about your scar is going to somehow push me away, since the scar itself didn’t do that. I think you’re perfect, Ozzy Graves, just as you are. If you’re looking for a way to get out of whatever this thing is that’s growing between us, then just say the word. If you’re telling me the story about what happened to your face because you feel like sharing with me, then thank you. I’m honored you chose to open up to me.”

  Ozzy was quiet. He seemed to be mulling over what I just said. “Maybe that’s it. Maybe I am trying to push you away, but it’s only because all I want to do is pull you closer.”